Free Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court by Chuck Black

or we die!”
    “Better to die a free man than to live a slave,” Bentley said angrily.
    “And what of my wife and daughters, Bentley?” Creighton pointed back to the cottage where Anwen and the girls had been working in the vegetable garden. They were standing still, having just seen the exchange. “Do I make a brave stand just to die and leave them to starve?”
    Bentley looked at Creighton and felt his anger turn to sadness. He put his hand on his friend's shoulder.
    “No, Creighton, you do not. You must live and care for them.” He managed a smile. “You are a wise and compassionate man. It's not your calling to change such things.”
    But it
is
mine!
Bentley thought. He put his hands back to his sickle and the job of harvesting, but his mind was beginning to settle on an entirely different task. He wasn't quite sure just what it was or how he was supposed to do it, but he knew without a doubt he was called to it.

THE PAINTED
ICE PRINCESS
    Bentley had been to the village of Holbrook before. But this time, as he traveled there with Creighton, Anwen, Meg, and Nia, he saw it with new eyes.
    For one thing, Lord Kingsley's beautiful castle seemed to loom more prominently than ever, its magnificent beauty heralding to all the land its master's wealth and power.
    For another thing, the village seemed to be larger and more congested than it had been on his last visit. Bentley's companions confirmed that impression, saying that each year more people came to Kingsley for protection from the marauders of surrounding lands, especially from the Lucrums of the Boundary Mountains. Rumors of the mysterious and crude rituals practiced by this tribe of barbarians abounded, and such rumors struck fear in the people's hearts, keeping them pliant under the heavy hand of Lord Kingsley.
    For Bentley, the stories brought greater understanding of the plight of the people and ignited a passion to discover what his purpose was in this place. On this particular afternoon, though, his purpose was simply to enjoy his friends and to learn as much as possible.
    Creighton bartered with various shop owners and other farmers for his produce and seemed satisfied with the exchange. But the family and most of the villagers were tense and uptight, for this was the day of Lord Kingsley's estate tour. Castle guards came into the village to prod people into lining the main thoroughfare leading from the castle and on through the center of the community.
    At the third hour of the afternoon, trumpets began to blast at the castle gates as thousands of people lining the main thoroughfare waited for the parade of Lord Kingsley his family, and his entourage of nobility and knights.
    A herald stood atop the castle barbican, above the gates, and yelled, “Hear ye, people of the land! It is with great honor that I proclaim the mighty and benevolent Lord Kingsley, his noble family, and the court of Holbrook. Give homage to your protector and his heirs.”
    Bentley stood beside Creighton and his family. Little Nia was jumping up and down trying to see beyond the people who lined the road.
    “Here you go, little miss.” Bentley lifted her up onto his shoulder.
    “Tanks, Bentley,” she said with glee. Like most of the village children, she loved the interlude from the drudgery of her daily life. She was not yet old enough to realize what an empty facade these parades presented.
    “Here they come!” Meg shouted as a squire on horseback thundered through the gates, proudly carrying the flag of Holbrook Castle. He was followed by a pompous figure in a bright silk tunic—Sir Avarick, the first knight of Holbrook Castle. Behind him trailed twenty-five knights in similar array. Castle guards dispersed throughout the crowded streets “encouraged” the people to cheer as the procession passed by.
    There was a small gap between the phalanx of knights and the elaborate open carriage that carried the noble family of Holbrook. Four prancing white carriage horses pulled