It was the duty of those at the very top to see to those unfortunates who might not possess the wherewithal to defend themselves...or to fight for their share of the bounty that was created, in large part, because of their contributions. And that duty lay with him—a duty seen much more clearly through the lingering acrid haze left from yet another morning of burnt eggs.
"Pray tell," Heslington began, lifting his arse only halfway off his seat and raising his voice to be heard above the murmuring crowd. "To what end have we been summoned, Laird Leesborn?" As he lowered again, he held his brows aloft, demonstrating his self-importance, as if Flanders had better have a good reason for disrupting his day.
Flanders ignored him and gave a nod of thanks to his audience for settling quickly. "Thank ye for answering the call. I have brought ye all together so that I might apologize." He waited a moment for the surprise to settle. "I have failed ye. Ye see, it has become clear that, with all my travels, I have neglected our community, and I mean to rectify that. If any of ye have a complaint that has gone unanswered, I invite ye to step forward and lay it at my feet."
Heslington rose immediately and moved to the edge of the dais as if he believed the invitation was for him alone. "I'm grateful, yer lairdship. I believe everyone has a right to hear the true state of our community, so I have no qualms airing my concerns before all and sundry."
The man had changed a great deal since the day he'd first stood before James and proved he could read, write, and add sums. He'd been a humble man then, content to record the details of an expanding community and please Robert the Bruce's favorite warlord.
It was difficult to reconcile that man with this strutting, well-dressed peacock. Clearly, he wore finer garments than anyone else in the keep, including Flanders. Any other man would be embarrassed to stand so near those women who cooked and cleaned for the household, whose gowns were little better than oft-mended ribbons of cloth that weren't up to Highland weather.
"As ye must know, Laird, the provisions consumed during yesterday's impulsive celebration have left supplies in a precarious state. Why, the number of animals alone has disrupted a delicate balance." He looked at the grizzled and well-fed Dunstan, Master of Beasts, who gave a nod. Then he smiled slyly back at Flanders. "I tried to warn ye, of course."
At Heslington's back, an unhappy murmur shuffled through the crowd, though the man was either oblivious or unconcerned by it. A hundred flashing eyes bored holes in his fine cote, while half the people looked like they would flee out the door if given permission to do so. After a moment, however, the steward proved he wasn't oblivious after all, for he stiffened, turned, and sent a haughty glare the breadth of the room, putting an immediate end to all those dissenters.
Clearly, no one else would be stepping forward to complain.
In the back of the room, three figures entered late and found places against the wall. Flanders recognized the faces beneath the hoods, but he didn't have time to deal with them at the moment. Nothing was more important than making sure this gathering evolved the way he'd planned.
Heslington returned to the conversation. "We must make adjustments. Allotments must be reduced accordingly. And if all will accept those adjustments, we should be back in fair shape in time for winter." He cast a pointed look at Ailis, the chatelaine, whose thin lips held tight to whatever she might be tempted to say. But eventually, she nodded.
This time, the murmurs were only whispers, more worry than anger. Clearly, the people of Todlaw believed these three villains held their futures in their hands. And the sooner they were disabused of that notion, the faster the damage could be undone.
Satisfied that his pronouncement was accepted by all, and not bothering to wait for Flanders' agreement, the steward returned to his seat and waited, with a smile, for Flanders to send everyone back to work.
Flanders let the silence stretch, affording ample time for someone to speak up.
No one dared.
His gaze settled on the new cook, Marjory, who stood with her back against the wall, waiting for him to call upon her, as he'd promised to do.
"Marjory," he said. "Come forward, if ye please."
Without hesitation, she moved around the perimeter and came to stand before him.
"Ye've been responsible for preparing my meals of late. Tell me, why have ye continued to burn my eggs in the mornin', while ye have no trouble cookin' other food?"
The young woman nodded and spoke boldly. "Aye, well, that would be because Mistress Ailis instructed me to do so."
A collective gasp nearly sucked the air from the hall. Flanders feigned surprise and turned his attention to the now pale chatelaine. "Is this true?"
Ailis cleared her throat, then lifted her chin in defiance. "Aye, laird, it is true. I... I told Marjory to ruin the eggs, lest ye continue to crave them and consume more than yer fair share. James Duncan was determined that all are equal?—"
"How dare ye invoke his name in yer lies!"
She clutched at her throat and took a step back. "Lies?"
Flanders regretted he'd allowed his calm mask to slip, but it was back in place now.
"A funny thing happens when people find their bellies full, and the wine and ale flow freely. They are much more likely to speak the truth when they don't know someone is listening. So no, Heslington, yesterday's celebration was not the waste ye believe it was." He got to his feet, stepped around Marjory, and moved closer to Dunstan.
"Tell me, sir. When did ye first change yer loyalty from Todlaw to Heslington? Or should I say Gallabrae?"
The man's mouth dropped open and his shoulders shrugged over and over as he sought the words that would excuse him. A denial mustn't have occurred to him, or else he knew one would be useless. Finally, he bowed his head. "Forgive me, Laird."
Flanders shook his head. "It is not my forgiveness ye need today, man."
Heslington was back on his feet, leaning forward over the table, his face flushed with indignation. "Ye dare to accuse us of transgression? We've been acting in the best interests of these people!"
