Jack Frost: King of Thieves

CHAPTER XXXVII: Putting The Rabble In Their Place

The sheriff leant back in his chair outside the town building in the centre of Dorfeld, watching the rabble go about their business. They complained about taxes, about the Crown and the Church taking too much, but he saw these people every day. He knew how little they worked, how much time they spent in idle pursuits. The farmers among them could easily have worked their fields more and with greater efficiency; the smiths and wheelwrights and woodcrafters could have produced more and chattered less. With a bit more industry, these people would have had more to eat, and he would have had more to send to Abit, to the benefit of all. But they groused endlessly, and so they suffered.

From the north edge of town, one of his roundsmen approached leading a second man who kept his head covered with a hood. The sheriff sat forward and cast a questioning look at his rider, as the two stopped before him.

"Won't give his name," the roundsman said. "Demands audience with the sheriff."

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. "Demands." He turned to the hooded stranger, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Long live the king," the stranger said smoothly. From within his cloak, the man produced a sealed letter. The sheriff stood and took it from him. He broke the seal and read. Before he was halfway through it, he looked up at his man and nodded, dismissing him.

The roundsman glanced once more at the hooded rider and then left. The sheriff finished reading the letter, and as he did, the stranger pushed back his hood, revealing a shaved head, small, widely spaced eyes, and a trim beard.

"Long live the king," the sheriff said when he finished reading. He looked the man in the eye. "You ride with Sir Pitch?"

The stranger nodded. "Tax collection proceeds apace. Dorfeld turn is coming."

"Good," the sheriff said. At last, he would have some help in putting the rabble in their place. "Tell Sir Pitch the Sheriff of Dorfeld is his man, may he put his stamp on my authority. I see trouble coming from Overland of Burlington Manor."

The stranger laughed. "Sir Sandy? A blind old man gives you trouble?"

The sheriff scowled at the man. "Aye. And his son will give more. The crusader, Jackson Overland, is returned. A week ago."

At these tidings, the man's entire bearing changed. Clearly, he knew Sir Jackson, or at least of him. But more than that, he appeared deeply surprised to hear of the knight's return. When the sheriff asked him what he knew of Overland, however, the man demurred, apologised for needing to leave so soon, and rode away. Watching him go, the sheriff had the distinct impression that the stranger believed Sir Pitch would be just as interested to hear of Sir Jackson's return as he had been.