Lord of Misrule (Below the Salt #8)

Chapter 1

ENGLAND, 1376

K it Baker’s head snapped up as the bells over the bakery entrance jangled and the door slammed open so hard that the pans hanging on the wall crashed to the floor.

“Does this thief belong to you?” came the gruff voice of the man who had entered.

Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw the guard from Blake Castle gripping her eight-year-old son, Parker, by the back of his tunic. Parker’s shoulder-length blond hair hung over his eyes, his feet nearly off the ground as the burly guard held him so tightly.

“Parker! What did you do now?” she scolded, running from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a towel and throwing the cloth to the side.

“Mother,” said the boy, flashing her a smile that wasn’t going to help him get out of the mess he was in this time.

“What did he do?” she demanded to know, her attention shooting up to the angry guard.

“This runt tried to steal my sword,” the man answered. “Now I’m going to have to take him to the castle for sentencing.”

“I’m not a runt!” shouted Parker, struggling to get free, but the guard wasn’t about to let him go.

“Parker?” Kit’s focus was back on the boy now. “Did you really try stealing a sword from one of the castle guards? What is the matter with you?” Of all the stupid things her troublesome son had ever done over the years, this was definitely the worst. Kit felt fed up with his tomfoolery of constantly getting into mischief over and over again. She, being a widow and trying to run a business on her own, didn’t have the time to give the boy the proper upbringing he needed. Actually, what Parker really needed was a father.

“I didn’t do no such thing,” said Parker, still struggling against the guard’s hold.

“Any,” she corrected him under her breath.

“He laid the sword down and I just wanted to hold it. To feel how heavy it was, that’s all.” Parker looked up at her sheepishly.

Kit released a long sigh. “All right. I believe you,” she told her son, knowing that Parker usually admitted to his actions even when he knew he was in trouble.

“Well, I don’t believe him,” snapped the guard. “And now he can tell his lie to Lord Blake. You, boy, are going to the castle for judgment. Your punishment for stealing will be decided on by Lord Blake himself.”

“Did I hear that Parker was stealing?” Kit’s brother by marriage, Oliver, hurried out of the back room with Kit’s very pregnant sister, Brenna, waddling along right behind him. “Parker, please tell me this isn’t so. You don’t want to have to pay for a crime like that. You need to learn that lesson while you are young.” He raised his hand, minus the two fingers that had been cut off when he’d stolen food, trying to support himself and Brenna after Kit and Brenna’s parents kicked them out.

“Ah, I see that stealing is a common trait in this family,” sneered the guard.

“Nay. That was an entirely different situation altogether and happened in Ireland, not anywhere near here,” Brenna spoke up. “Kit, what are you going to do? You need to help Parker.”

“I know that.” Kit’s attention went back to the guard. “Please,” she begged the man. “I’d appreciate you letting my son go with only a warning this time. I promise to watch him more closely.” Tears formed in her eyes. “He’s just a boy. I beg you not to hurt him.”

“You’d appreciate me letting him go, would you?” the guard asked in a mocking voice. Kit already regretted not wording her request more carefully. After all, he was a royal guard and she was naught but a commoner, the town baker.

“I mean, will you? Can you? Just warn him this time?” She tried once more to convince the guard.

“Hmph,” sniffed the man. “Bad boys turn into evil men who end up being ruffians and bandits and cutthroats. It won’t be tolerated.” The guard frowned and shook his head. “Nay, I cannot let this go. I am taking him to the castle to let my lord decide his punishment. Since the boy is so young and you are his mother, I suggest you ride along with us and plead your case to Lord Tolin yourself. Although, I can tell you it will make no difference in his decision.”

“Lord Tolin?” Kit repeated, surprised. “Don’t you mean Lord Corbett?” She felt confused, knowing well that Corbett was lord of the castle.

“Nay, not Lord Corbett. I mean his son, Lord Tolin,” snapped the guard, giving her a look that could kill. She supposed she shouldn’t have questioned him in such a manner. She had a habit of blurting out what she thought before considering the consequences.

“Pardon me,” she said, clearing her throat, trying her hardest not to anger the guard more. “But is Lord Tolin standing in for Lord Corbett then?”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Lord Corbett and Lady Devon have traveled to Scotland for the holiday, and they’ve left Lord Tolin in charge of Blake Castle until their return.”

“Oh, I see,” Kit answered, secretly having hoped to be able to plead with Lady Devon, since she was kind and fair. Being a woman and a mother, Lady Devon surely would have taken pity on Parker. Now, she could see that plan wouldn’t work. Kit knew of the sons of Lord Corbett, but had only met the eldest son in person. Lord Rook along with his twin sister, Lady Raven, sometimes came into her bakery, but not Lord Corbett’s other sons. She’d only seen Lords Daegel and Tolin in passing from afar. “Yes, I’ll go to the castle with you. Just let me get my bag.” Kit hurried back behind the counter.

“You ask me, not tell me,” snapped the guard. Once again, Kit had managed to upset the man. She decided not to say anything more to him than need be.

“Kit, your ovens are loaded with bread,” her sister pointed out. “Plus, there are an abundance of orders to fill since it is so close to Christmas. You can’t leave here now.” Brenna shook her head and rubbed her large belly. While Kit was tall and slender, her younger sister was short and round. The baby was due in about a week and it was no secret that Brenna would be of no help to her now or any time in the near future. This was a bad time for Kit to leave her shop, but she had no other choice. She needed to help her son and would do whatever it took. Parker’s safety depended on her now, and she would do the best she could to fill the role of both mother and father to the boy.

“I’m sorry, Brenna, but I have to go. I can’t leave Parker,” Kit told her sister. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Please, don’t leave, sister.” Brenna’s brow furrowed in fear, and with good reason. Birthing a baby was difficult. Oftentimes the baby or the mother, or both, didn’t even live. And to put the responsibility of the bakery on her shoulders now, too, was only going to cause the girl unneeded stress.

“It’s all right, we’ll be fine. Just go,” said Oliver with a wave of his half-fingerless hand. “We’d do the same for our own son and understand. It’s important that you’re there with him. We’ll take care of things here at the shop for you. When do we take the bread out of the oven?”

Kit hesitated, feeling doomed. It wasn’t a smart idea to leave these two to handle her business. They’d only been here for a fortnight now, coming to live with Kit, having nowhere else to go in their time of great need. Neither of them really knew enough about the business or baking to be of much help in this situation. Plus, if Brenna went into labor now, all hell would break loose. Kit would probably lose her business, that is, if the shop didn’t burn down first. She needed these sales to help support all of them. Burnt bread wasn’t going to do them any good.

“Oliver, fetch Vivian, my sister-by-marriage. She knows about baking and has helped me many times since Gerold’s passing. She will help until I return.”

“Vivian?” asked Oliver, squinting his eyes, seeming to try to remember the woman.

“You met her when you first arrived,” Kit told him. “She is my late husband’s sister and is married to the cordwainer at the edge of town. Now go. Brenna cannot be alone for long.”

“Yes. Right. I’ll be right back, my love,” Oliver told his wife, kissing her and then hurrying out the door.

“We’re going to the wagon,” snarled the guard, pulling Parker out the door. “And if you’re not there when I’m ready to leave, I’m not waiting.” The bells over the door jangled again. The guard left with her son, the door swinging closed behind them.

“Brenna, promise me you won’t go into labor before I return.” Kit picked up a few things and threw them into her bag. Then she eyed up the fresh tarts cooling on a shelf behind her. She grabbed a cherry-almond tart and quickly wrapped it in brown paper and placed it gently into her bag, careful not to break the crust.

“You’re taking food with you?” asked Brenna in shock. “Why? Are you planning on being gone that long?”

“Nay, of course not. I’ll be back soon, I promise. This is not for me. Lady Othren will be here for tarts soon, so be sure to wrap them gently. She doesn’t like when they break.” Kit hurried across the room and pulled open the door. “I am hoping to be able to win over Lord Tolin so Parker doesn’t end up whipped, without a hand, or in the dungeon.”

“You’re going to bribe a nobleman?” Brenna sounded horrified.

Kit turned and faced her sister. “If I have to, then yes,” she answered calmly. “I will do whatever it takes to protect my son. Now I can only pray that this man is easily persuaded.”