A Country Life

CHAPTER 3 - THOMAS

Thomas Hewitt was not a man suited to writing, but duty occasionally demanded that he record the actions of the Yeomanry, so that the Protectorate could demonstrate to the King's satisfaction that it's people had been employed usefully, effectively, and in a manner that justified the expense of calling upon the farm labourers, builders, tailors, cooks, butchers, blacksmiths and innumerable other men who would otherwise be earning a living in their trade, but who were now being paid by the crown to protect its people and lands.

Normally, this would only encompass employing a few people each month in active duty, in addition to training all the Yeomanry's members once a month in arms. The Protectorate had fifty men on its books who could be called upon to defend it, in addition to the twenty full-time Castle Guards, which were paid for out of his Lordship's own money.

The occasional patrol to scare off robbers on the Wessex Road; bolstering the Castle Guards during festivities where drunkenness and fighting were the most that might have to be dealt with, putting out fires and searching for lost and missing people – these were the bread and butter of the Yeomanry these days. It had been over a hundred years since anything had happened which had justified a full mobilisation. He'd looked it up.

Now, he would have to account for it. That meant putting down on record his reasons, taking it to the Sheriff at Cirencester, explaining it in person to the Crown's Master of Purse, and he didn't want to. He knew that if he put down his reasons for mobilising each and every one of the Protectorate's Yeoman, he would be publically humiliated by the Sheriff, and in all likelihood denounced by Patrice, the odious Purse holder who had direct communication with the King's court.

After considering for a moment, Thom dipped his quill in the inkpot, and bent to his task as if he were attacking the mannequin in the practice yard. When he finished, he sat back for a moment considering the words, trying to find an error that would leave him open to scrutiny. In essence, he had reported an attack on a citizen of the Protectorate by a member of a suspected roving gang, whose attack had been repulsed (resulting in the death of the attacker) by the victim, who unfortunately had been fatally injured himself in the attack. Due to the violent nature of the incident, the full Yeomanry had been mobilised to either detain or drive away the suspected gang.

He had by necessity left out much of the detail; no mention of the murder weapon was given, and he had glossed over the description of the attacker, other than describing him as heavily built, and of no distinctive features. He'd had to provide details of the victim however, and that was bound to raise questions. And then there was the worrying aspect of the assassin's injuries...

He put down the quill and looked up at the crossbow sitting an arm's length away on the desk. It was this and the strange injuries more than anything else that bothered him, and was the real reason he had sent the whole guard out to find anyone who might have accompanied the assassin.

Reaching over, he picked up the weapon. Once again, he marvelled at it. It was exceptionally light, and exquisitely constructed. The stock was wood, made for practicality rather than display, and showing signs of hard use. Everything else appeared to be made of metal, yet he strongly suspected none of it had ever seen a blacksmith's forge. The string was unlike anything he knew – certainly not a natural fibre, translucent and only a single strand. It was also permanently strung, which suggested the bow would never lose its strength, or the string would not deteriorate and break under the tension. On the top, above the trigger, was a sight, which magnified everything when looked through with astonishing clarity and presented a cross-hair for aiming. Thom had only ever seen anything like it once before. The implications were ... disturbing.

Putting the crossbow aside, he strode over to the window. His rooms faced the castle courtyard, so had the luxury of large windows with leaded panes. The castle had, once, been blessed with large windows to the external walls too, but when times had changed, requiring the castle to assume a defensive posture once more, those windows were walled up, as they had been when the castle had first been built. There was talk of bringing those windows back now the land was peaceful and relatively free of threat, but the effort and expense was too great, and the risk of knocking large parts of the walls out of the ancient structure was also high.