Free HealingPassion by Katherine Kingston

demands of rank and courtesy that would obligate him to acknowledge
Sir Thomas at the very least.
    When Thomas said, “Master Randolph, if I might have a word
with you,” the man gave him a concentrated glare that warned the interview
would likely be less than pleasant.
    “You want to ask me about Lord Groswick, my lord? I’ve heard
you’ve been questioning others in the household.” Randolph’s tone told Thomas
exactly how he felt about the activity.
    Hoping to keep the unpleasantness to a minimum, Thomas
reminded him, “I’ve been commissioned by the king himself to make inquiries. I
regret that it causes disruption and perhaps some grief to the household here,
but the king would know—if it’s possible to learn—what became of Lord
Groswick.” He kept his irritation under control and his tone even.
    Randolph gave him a jerky nod and said, “This way, my lord.”
He led the way to a small, quiet room a couple of doors down from the
storeroom. “We can be private in here.”
    There were no chairs in the room, just one rough table, a
few shelves bearing what looked like kitchen utensils, and rolls of fabric
leaning against the wall. The window looked out onto the side of the bailey,
toward the smith’s shop he’d visited earlier. It also had a narrow ledge
beneath it, which Thomas perched on.
    “How long have you been bailiff here?” he asked Randolph.
    The man looked surprised. Clearly that wasn’t the question
he’d expected. “Some ten years now. Since Milton Ashwood died.”
    “So you worked with Lord Groswick extensively.”
    “Aye.”
    Thomas waited a moment, but Randolph wasn’t volunteering
anything. “And you were here when he left.”
    “Aye.”
    “How long ago was that? Do you remember the exact day?”
    The man drew a deep breath and shrugged. “Not the day
itself. ‘Twas in November, though early in the month. He wanted to set out
before the weather turned.”
    “He was leaving it rather late at that, was he not?”
    “He would wait until the harvest was done.”
    “Ah. He needed to be well-provisioned for the trip. How many
men accompanied him? And were they keep men?”
    “My memory is not entirely reliable, my lord, but as best I
can remember, he went off with about three dozen men. Most were mercenaries,
old friends, or those who owed debts he called on to support him. Only a very
few belonged to the keep.”
    “Have you a list of their names?”
    The man’s hands clenched tight. “So far as I know, there is
no list, my lord.”
    “Can you remember who they might be?”
    “I can give you a few names.” He rattled off a list that was
just as unspecific as the one the cook had given him.
    Thomas did note a few whose families he recognized and
committed those to memory to inquire about later.
    “Tell me about Lord Groswick,” Thomas asked. “What manner of
man was he? Was he an easy man to work with?”
    Randolph’s eyes narrowed and his lips pinched together for a
moment. “He was no easy man, Lord Groswick.”
    Again Thomas waited, but Randolph declined to elaborate. “In
what way?” he prompted.
    Randolph looked around as though searching for a way to
escape the room. “His temper was uncertain at the best of times. His manner…he
was the lord. That was all. He felt no need to be kind or merciful, or even
just. He regarded not the feelings or rights of others, including his household
and those closest to him. When things were not to his liking, he would often
react…quite violently.”
    “Violently? How so?”
    The man’s breathing had quickened. “He… He could be quite
loud in his reproaches. And he injured a few people who did not please him.”
    “Injured. He struck them?”
    “Aye, my lord.”
    “Then people here feared him?”
    “Aye, my lord. That they did. Many would duck and hide when
they saw him approach.”
    “Then I should suppose many were relieved when he left.”
    The man hesitated. “Aye, that they were.”
    “And all are happier