The work wasn’t too arduous either. Jordan was expected to help about the hall, assisting the steward with whatever he thought needed doing, tidying the buttery, restocking the storerooms, fetching and carrying trays and jugs and pots.
He brought the wine to his master and set it on the table silently.
Simon watched him with a curious smile twisting the edge of his mouth. ‘How do you find your new home, Jordan?’
‘It’s fine, sir. I’m very happy here.’
‘You wouldn’t want to go home to your father?’
‘To him, sir?’ Jordan asked, his face blank.
‘Your mother has left him, lad. I thought if you were to go home again, you might be able to help him keep his land going.’
Jordan sniffed and wiped his eye. ‘I don’t think so, sir. I don’t think I could help him. He never listens to anyone – not Mum, not me, not anyone. If I went back, he’d beat me for no reason, just like he always used to.’
Simon smiled understandingly, and Sir Reginald waved the boy away.
When he had left the hall, the knight glanced at the bailiff. ‘Well? He gave you a good enough answer, didn’t he?’
‘Oh yes, Sir Reginald. I never doubted he would. He’s filling out nicely, too. You’re feeding him too much.’
‘Not me, bailiff, it’s the damned women of the place. They all insist on giving him candy and extra portions of ale. Daft buggers! When I was a boy, servants were lucky if they were allowed maslin. Rye and wheat was good enough for the animals, my old father used to say, so it was damned well good enough for the slaves as well!’
Simon smiled thinly. ‘Yes, I have no doubt. The main thing is, he appears happy enough, and I am sure he will flourish under your benevolent eye. What of the other one?’
‘Alan? He appears to have an excellent aim with a sling and bullet, so I’ve sent him off to help watch the flocks north of here. I’m sure he’ll “flourish” too! Hah!’ The knight began to laugh rustily, like an old man who was dry of throat.
Jordan heard the men moving on to talk about the knight’s lands nearer the moors, and this held no interest for him, so he silently walked out to the buttery, putting the tray down and setting a jug to fill under the wine butt.
The place was easy enough; certainly the work here was less arduous than it had been at home. There he’d always been up before dawn to do his chores in the house before setting off for the fields. Now he need rise only when he heard others already about their duties, and when he did go to the hall, there was food for him. He messed with the second shift of workers in this busy manor. There were so many staff that there wasn’t space for all to eat at the same time, and even if there had been, someone must fetch the food and drink and serve the servants. So they ate in shifts, the knight with the first, and Jordan helped wait upon him before eating with the second.
No, Jordan was pleased with his new position. It was quite a stroke of luck. He hadn’t expected to be able to live as well as this, not after he had confessed to killing Master Herbert.
But he was no fool, and knew that if he were to put a foot wrong, he might find life much more difficult. That was why he was so cautious. He kept his mouth shut, just as he always had. He was taking no risks. A word out of place could lead to severe punishment, and he had no wish for that.
Mind, Jordan had a feeling that he could control his life. There were not many men of his age who had killed, who knew the surge of power at ending another human’s life. He turned off the wine tap, setting the jug on the tray once more.
No, not many people of his age had killed. Herbert had been a genuine, panicky mistake, but for all that, his death had been necessary, purely to prevent his telling Stephen and then his mother about Jordan and Alan hurting him. He’d been going to tell the priest immediately, and Jordan couldn’t allow him to do that. As Herbert turned to run towards the stream, Jordan had already fitted the pebble to his sling, and a moment later his prey was down, whimpering.
After that they had no choice. They couldn’t let Herbert go then, not after what they’d done. And when they were finished, they’d dragged his body to the road, to drop in front of the next wagon.
It was all very logical.
He wasn’t sure why he was so determined never to go home again. Perhaps it was because of the treats he kept being given here. He’d never known so much food. After all, he’d been prepared to risk everything for his father, hadn’t he? And only very recently, too, when Squire Roger had come to visit.
Jordan grinned to himself. He could feel the sling in the waistband of his hose, a comforting, protective little weight. It was odd, he thought, walking back to the hall; everyone had always thought that Alan was a good shot with a sling, and yet even Alan wouldn’t have been able to hit the old squire on the head from that range…
He idly wondered to himself, while pouring wine for the knight and the bailiff, whether any boys as young as himself had committed two murders before the age often.
It was quite a thought.