If Not For The Knight - Debbie Boek (reading eggs books .txt) 📗

with indecision as to whether or not she should take Radolf to the Manor when the boys went before Calder. On the one hand, she wanted him to see that they would be punished for their actions. On the other, she worried about the harshness of the punishment and was not sure if he would find it more upsetting than the incident itself.

She was saved from laboring further over her decision when there was a sharp rap on her door.

“Hello, Kenny,” she said, giving him a puzzled look when she found him in her doorway.

“Milady,” he said with a respectful nod, “Lord Calder wishes the presence of you and your son at the Manor. I am to escort you, if you please.”

“Certainly, just give me a moment,” she answered. He nodded his assent and stepped back outside of the cottage. Regan quickly bundled Radolf up and led him outside and they walked side by side, with Kenny guiding the way. Radolf was almost skipping in his excitement, exhilarated that the bullies were finally going to be punished for hurting him.

The Hall was packed with villagers. Calder’s men had positioned themselves along the outside of the group. The two boys stood before the Lord’s table, their parents at their sides. The latter looked almost as scared as the boys themselves.

Calder looked around the room and, when he saw that Regan and Radolf had arrived, began the proceedings, he had tormented the boys long enough by making them wait.

“What is your name?” he asked the older boy, using his sternest tone of voice.

“Aart.” He tried to act sullen, but sounded instead as if he might cry.

“And you?” Calder nodded to the other.

“Drew,” the second boy answered in a trembling voice.

“What happened today?” Calder asked, making sure that he continued to make eye contact with one or the other at all times.

Neither of them responded.

“Answer me.” His voice boomed through the hall and the boys flinched as if they had been struck.

“I did it,” the younger boy cried out.

“Did what?” Calder asked in a much softer voice.

“I throwed the rock and hit Radolf,” he answered, his voice wavering.

“Why?”

“Cause we always do.”

“Why?” Calder repeated insistently.

“Cause we don’t like him.”

“Why?”

The boy shrugged.

“You don’t know why you don’t like Radolf?”

“My father says he’s a bastard and isn’t good enough to live in our village.”

Calder’s eyes narrowed as he looked balefully at the boy’s father. In turn, that man’s gaze nervously found the floor. Turning back to the boy, he asked coldly, “Do you know what a bastard is?”

The boy shook his head. “No, just that it’s bad to be one.”

“Do you know that King William is a bastard? He is the most revered man in this country. He leads the world’s greatest army. He owns this land and all who live on it. Would you go to him and tell him that he is not good enough to live in your village?”

“No,” Drew answered, his voice shaking nervously.

“But, Radolf is no bastard. He was born to parents who love him very much and for you to call him such a name is cruel and cowardly. Has Radolf ever done you harm?”

The boy shook his head, staring shamefully at the floor.

Calder knew his words were not completely the truth, even though both of Radolf’s parents did love him. Calder had never thought of Radolf as his bastard child and it cut him to the bone to think of all the wrong he had caused. He searched his soul for the answers that would help him to right this situation, but realized that they would be long in coming, and for now he must deal with these two boys.

“Do you like people to throw rocks at you?”

“No.”

“Why would you do it to a boy only half your size, who cannot defend himself, one who you admit has never caused you harm?”

Again, Drew just shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor, feeling foolish.

“Were I your parent, either of your parents,” Calder said with a pointed look at the older boy, “I would be ashamed to call you my son.”

“The measure of a man,” he continued, “is how he comports himself on a daily basis. You are so close to manhood now that you need to choose the right paths in your lives. Should you choose to remain bullies, only picking on those younger and smaller than yourselves, you will never earn the respect of another person.

The measure of a man is in the battles that he chooses to fight and the honor with which he fights them.”

Calder continued to stare at the two boys and they returned his gaze, unable to tear their eyes away as he spoke. Calder was quiet for a moment, considering their punishment.

“The both of you will shovel dung from the stables for the next two weeks. At the end of that time, you will meet with me again, alone,” he added, the last directed at their parents. “We will then discuss what you have learned about yourselves and the kind of men that you want to be. Are we understood?”

Both boys nodded quickly, breathing a sigh of relief at the leniency of their punishment.

Regan was also relieved at how the proceeding had gone and turned to leave with Radolf, but stopped short when she found her way blocked by Kenny.

“M’lord wishes to speak privately with you, after the others have left,” he whispered into her ear.

“Of course, Kenny,” she said, her heart pounding hard in her chest at the thought of spending time alone with Calder.

She waited patiently for the villagers to file out of the Hall, ignoring the caustic stares they threw in her direction, and then Kenny escorted them to Calder’s table.

Calder moved to lift Radolf into the air, then hugged him tightly. Most of the knights were already aware of Radolf’s parentage, but still found their leader’s carefree, affectionate manner completely out of character for the man they thought they knew.

“Please, sit,” Calder said, beckoning Regan to the chair next to his and sitting down with Radolf comfortably situated in his lap.

“So, Radolf,” he asked, “are you satisfied with the boys’ punishment?”

“Yes, Lord Cawer,” the boy answered, his lopsided grin firmly in place. He felt very special tonight. Not only had Lord Calder called the boys to task for what they had done to him, but now he was being asked his opinion as to their punishment. His chest swelled with pride and self-importance.

“Why?” Calder asked curiously.

“They have to clean poop. So now, when they see me and want to throw rocks, maybe they’ll think about having to clean more poop and then, maybe they won’t throw the rock at me.”

“Yes, Radolf, that’s what I hope will happen, as well. If it doesn’t and people still throw rocks at you, will you tell me?”

“I can,” he replied, “or maybe I could just throw rocks back at them.”

“Well,” Calder replied in all seriousness, “if I find out that you have hit someone with a rock, I will have to make you clean poop from the stable, just like these two boys. Throwing rocks is not a nice thing to do and those who do so, must be punished. Do you want to clean poop?”

“No,” he answered with a frown.

“Radolf, you cannot let these boys turn you into a mean-spirited person. You must look deep inside yourself,” Calder said, poking a finger gently into Radolf’s chest, “and realize that you are a better person than that. Only a coward would throw rocks from behind a tree. You aren’t a coward, are you?”

“No,” he replied indignantly.

“Then you must show these other boys that you will not let them beat you down and turn you into a person like them. You are Radolf, the red wolf. You must first think about what is right, and that is the only thing that you should allow yourself to do. Do you understand?”

Radolf’s face scrunched up as he concentrated on Calder’s words before answering. “I shouldn’t throw rocks?”

Calder laughed out loud and hugged him. “Yes, Radolf, that’s right. Now run and find Draco, see if he has any sweets he will share with you.”

Regan fought back tears as she witnessed the exchange between father and son. This was what she had always envisioned for Radolf, a proud, strong father, one who could lovingly teach him how to survive in this brutal world and still remain an honorable man.

“What am I to do?” she wondered, filled with despair. “Do I tell Calder that he has a son, or do I run from here and never let Radolf know his father? If I stay, what will happen when Calder wishes to marry? How will I survive if I am forced to watch him make a life with another woman? And what of Radolf then? Will he take my son and raise him as his own, with another woman as his mother? Or will he reject Radolf in favor of his legitimate heir?

“Please, God,” she prayed, “help me to know what to do.”

“Regan,” Calder said gently, turning to her just in time to see her eyes squeeze shut and her face fill with such sadness that he could not help but reach over and engulf her hands in his own. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, but knew he could not be more familiar than