Lost Son
Chapter 130
“Beg yer pardon!” an unfamiliar voice called out. Tanner looked toward it and found a blond-haired young man standing near the trees. One wearing a sword, but it was thankfully sheathed. He wiped the blood from the blade he’d been bleeding a goose with and put it aside. The bloody apron came off next and he rinsed his hand for good measure. The young man didn’t look noble, but he had to be someone carrying an expensive weapon like that.
Everyone else had halted in what they were doing but didn’t move. They were waiting on Tanner to decide how to approach things. Something he was grateful for, as he didn’t need a panic on his hands. The young man in turn waited placidly at the edge of the yard, which suggested someone had raised him with manners.
“Ello, I’m Tanner. Who might you be, young man?” Tanner asked. Up close he found the young man well dressed in that the clothes were well made and new looking, but otherwise unremarkable.
“Tanner Leeds, the steward?” the young man asked, sticking out a hand to shake. Tanner accepted on instinct and found his hand in a firm, but not painful grip and his arm being pumped enthusiastically.
“Been a long time since I was called that,” Tanner said, unable to help a laugh. The old Baronet was six years dead and with him had gone any titles more definitive than boss or chief. They even called the old headmaid Bossy as a nickname now, amused rather than fearful of the stern old thing.
“My mother told me about you,” the young man said cheerfully. “I’m Elim Grey, Erica’s son by Castor.”
Tanner didn’t have time to so much as think before his mouth was falling open in shock.
“Lady Erica?” Tanner asked, feeling like he was floating. That was a name he hadn’t even thought of in years.
Tanner barely registered it as everyone around him rushed forward to swarm Elim with questions. Tanner though couldn’t think of any and just kept looking the young man over. At least until his eyes found the engraving on the crossguard of the young man's sword. A yellow rose with red arrows behind it. It looked much nicer, he’d clearly had the enamel refreshed, but that was Castor’s blade and none but his son would have it. Before Elim could say much of anything Tanner grabbed the young man in a bear hug.
“Elim Grey, son of Erica Silvertree!” Tanner roared then he and the others lifted Elim up.
“Hey now!” Elim complained, even as he laughed. By some unknown agreement, the mob brought him to the outdoor table they took their meals at in warm weather. They sat him in the place of honor and offered the best of everything they had.
“Is Lady Erica well?” Bossy asked, looking on the edge of tears.
“Perfectly, ma’am. She was a bit sick when she was younger I heard, but I guess the air in Selton agreed with her because she got better,” Elim offered. Bossy really did start crying at that. Erica hadn’t been frail but she’d take sick easily and they’d all worried after her. Most of them had actually thought she might not live long past bearing her first child. Even healthy women might not survive that.
“Is she still in Selton?” Oisean, the former coachman asked. Like most of the servants who’d chosen to remain, his original profession was long discarded. They hadn’t been able to afford to keep the coach with no one to ride in it, it had been sold to pay for upkeep and get a more useful cart.
“That she is, sir. I came with a few hired hands who are in the village waiting on me. I wanted to see how things were, fix the house up, before having her follow,” Elim explained.
“No need for that, young master,” Tanner said, laughing.
“Young master? Mister, I’m just Elim, my grandad took the title with him. I do appreciate everything you’ve all been doing though,” Elim explained.
“You’ll be moving back then, you and Lady Erica?” Oisean asked. He’d said it in a neutral tone but Tanner didn’t really like it. Elim wasn’t insisting on formalities but Oisean hadn’t been looking at him with any kind of respect.
“Eventually. Our house in Selton’s rather comfortable, so I’ll need to make sure everything's ready before sending for her,” Elim replied.
“True, we’ve kept everything clean, but plenty of it’s mended a few times over by now,” Tanner acknowledged. Getting new linens wouldn’t be that hard, at least not if Elim let them sell some timber or the like first. The property wasn’t big, but it had its decent resources.
“What about your father, the knight? When’s he come’in?” Oisean asked. Tanner glared at the man, finding that flat-out rude. Dropping a title after being asked to was one thing, referring to Ser Grey in such a fashion was entirely another.
“Oisean, go do something useful if you can't remember how to speak politely,” Tanner cut in. Oisean scoffed, but then held his hands up placatingly. He slinked off and more polite questions resumed from those actually interested in the family's welfare.
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“Enough, enough! Let the lad have some room to breathe,” Tanner declared as lunch approached. People dispersed briefly, but soon returned with food. The spread was simple but filling once it was served and brought a respite from questions.
After the meal, Elim gave a more coherent run down of exactly what had happened. Tanner wasn’t surprised to find out Erica wasn’t actually pregnant when she was thrown out. That the lad was definitely Castor’s was a relief nonetheless. Being a knight's son was preferable to being Linden Savex’s bastard for a number of reasons.
Castor having passed was sad news, but the world was a hard place. It was good that Elim had looked after his family once his father was gone and best that they’d all returned to the estate now that they could. Tanner didn’t know the finer points of the law, but he suspected it wouldn’t be hard for the young man to claim the property and then things could be kept in better order.
“Would you like a tour of the house an’ property?” Karl, a former forester, asked once the table was clear.
“I’d be much obliged,” Elim said cheerfully.
“I’ll take you through the house, then Karl can show you the property,” Tanner offered. The house had several rooms on the main floor, while the second story was a single room. Rather fancy really, but Elim commented more on it being clean rather than marveling at the woodworking. He seemed practical, which Tanner liked.
“This the baronet’s office then?” Elim asked, as they came to the only door with a lock on it.
“Yes, we’ve kept it up, but haven’t looked through things since he passed,” Tanner explained. The tour of the office took a little longer than the other rooms as Elim took a moment to familiarize himself with where the various documents and ledgers were stored.
“I’ll do a proper look-through of everything tomorrow,” Elim said as they left.
“Then we'll survey the property itself. These are yours now,” Tanner said as he offered Elim a ring of keys. There were only six on the ring. The office, stables, root cellar, and storehouses were the only ones that had locks.
“I don’t think I’ll have much need for them. You’ve been doing a fine job with the place, I’ll ask you if I need something,” Elim said as he declined with a smile. Tanner was touched and accepted the refusal for the moment.
The property wasn't particularly large, but sizable enough that the tour took most of the rest of the day. Dinner preparations were well underway by the time Elim, Tanner, and Karl were back. Dinner passed pleasantly and afterward Elim joined Tanner and some of the others for drinks on the back porch of the manor. It was the only part of it they ever used casually, but that had been permitted even when the baronet was alive.
“Not what you were expecting, I take it,” Karl asked with a chuckle.
“No sir,” Elim replied lazily. They’d all been drinking for a while and the atmosphere was pleasant.
“I’d like to say we were keeping it ready for you, but really I think we didn’t know what else to do. There aren't any other estates in this area and the new Baronet wasn’t appointed until last year,” Karl explained. Tanner wanted to refute it but, as unflattering as it was, it was true. They’d all have been adrift and homeless had they left when the baronet died. Staying on to manage the property had been a default action rather than a conscious choice.
“There were more of us at first, the original servants. People drifted off as they found other work, then the numbers grew again as those who stayed had families,” Tanner added. If they were going to be honest, they might as well not do it by half measures.
“Makes sense, and I can't imagine it was easy. So thank you for that,” Elim said simply. People started heading back to their rooms in the servants' quarters until it was just Tanner, Oisean, and Elim.
“I’ll get your room ready,” Tanner offered.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Elim said with a smile. Tanner left and quiet descended over the porch for a few minutes.
“I’ve got some harder stuff, if you’d like,” Oisean offered, holding out his flask.
“I would, thank you,” Elim replied, taking a swig before offering it back. Oisean waved him off.
“You're not really what I thought a young nobleman would be like. Figured you’d come back in full of contempt and demands, probably ordering people about,” Oisean admitted.
“My da’ taught me how to use a sword and my mother manners, but I was just another peasant kid. Did a stint in the Earl's army since I wasn’t much of a farmer,” Elim said without apparent offense taken. He’d told the story already but didn’t mind repeating it.
“What do you plan to do with all of us? Most of us were free servants but there are some serfs and such,” Oisean asked. A serf and their child were both serfs, hereditary servants bound to the land and its ruler. Just another word for slave really.
“Shit, well that ends in the morning. My grandad disowned my mother, but if he didn’t do the paperwork she’s not legally disinherited and I’ll dissolve the contracts. Even if he did, since the title is inactive I can probably do something,” Elim said after a moment. Oisen was taken aback. One of the quickest ways to make money would have been to sell the serfs and he’d thought the young man would do just that.
“Aw, shit. I’m honestly sorry,” Oisean said, as he watched Elim take another drink. It was too late, it had been from the first drink, but he still reached over and took it back.
“Bout what?” Elim asked, blinking slowly.
“I… My wife’s a serf. It didn’t matter before, but then the new baronet was appointed. He wants the house and said he’d free her if I could find the title and things for it. If I didn’t he’d still get it eventually only he’d hurt her… fuck, the flask was poisoned,” Oisean admitted.
“Why poison me?” Elim asked.
“I was told to, if any of the Silverleafs ever turned up. The baronet will kill us if I don’t,” Oisean admitted. He was genuinely surprised by the fact Elim was able to keep talking, but he wasn’t a poison expert. He’d been told the poison was quick and the victim would fall unconscious first, then just die eventually. He clearly should have asked how long it would take.
“Well, shit,” Elim said with a sigh. He stood up and Oisean took a fearful step back. He hadn’t been happy about doing it, but he’d made sure he brought the right flask. Elim should have been fighting to keep his eyes open, not advancing on him.
Oisean thought about calling for help, but didn’t bother. He wasn’t going to get out of this, he hadn’t brought a weapon. He was spared having to wonder exactly what would happen by a fist connecting with his jaw.