Chapter 8: Henry’s new job

Theresa kept watching Henry and their esteemed guest. Like the evening before, Lady Stephanie was sitting in Henry’s lap and he kept running his hands over her large belly.

“Am I only imagining it or are you sitting much more relaxed that way? Don’t take it wrong, but when you sit on your own, you sometimes look like you’re in pain,” Theresa noted.

“It’s not where I’m sitting, but with whom. As soon as Henry puts his hands on my belly, the child stops kicking. It’s as if it knows whose hands it are. It is a real relief and I’m so thankful that you allow it.”

“Well, Master Bailiff,” Theresa addressed Henry. “Since you put that belly on her, I think you should also see it as your duty to help Stephanie out.”

“I can think of worse jobs,” he said with a chuckle. “But I won’t get much done around here if I stroke Stephanie’s belly all day.

“And neither would I,” Stephanie agreed with amusement. “Especially since those hands keep wandering upwards occasionally and I’m way too sensitive already. But an hour or two would be a godsent.”

Theresa giggled about Henry’s blush, having been busted for coping a feel of their guests boobs once in a while.

“You’re riding past Talmberg nearly every day anyway,” Theresa said to him. “It can’t be too hard to visit Stephanie for an hour or two. Just watch your hands. Overly sensitive breasts aren’t fun. I know that from own experience.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Stephanie defended him. with a smile. “I would tell him in time if he gets too distracted. Although I have to tell you, he’s become quite good at handling a woman’s body.”

“No credit to me,” Theresa answered. “That was all Agnes’ work.”

“Who is Agnes?”

“A local bath house maid,” Theresa explained. “She taught both of us a trick or two.”

“Now I understand what you meant, saying ‘we had help’,” Stephanie said and laughed. “It seems every village has one of those.”

“Your time when you went swimming at the bath house?” Henry stabbed in the dark.

Suddenly Stephanie’s laughter disappeared. “One of the maids was a veritable fountain of ideas, and Divish and I used to have some very good times. But that hat was before...”

Silence fell over the table, and Henry intensified his gentle ministrations when he noticed her sadness.

“I have an idea,” he suddenly proclaimed. “Whatever ails Sir Divish is obviously physical. Over the last months I’ve collected recipes for all kinds of potions - stamina, strength, agility. If a potion can make me outrun a boar, surely it could help him in the bedroom?”

Stephanie turned around in his lap and faced him. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” Henry said. “I’m surprised you never talked to the local herb woman. She lives just ten minutes from the castle.”

“That is a sore topic,” Stephanie admitted. “You are too young to know it, but twenty years ago herb women still had a bad reputation. The predecessor of Godwin badgered Divish about her and he finally banished her from the village to live in the woods. The only thing she would ever make for him would be poison. He tried to make amends several times over the years, but she is still not speaking to him. Whenever we need some medicine we have to go to Uzhitz or Neuhof.”

“Or you come here,” Theresa said with a chuckle. “We have an alchemist, bailiff, master huntsman, master soldier and by the look of it, master belly rubber - all rolled into one person.”

“I like the idea,” her guest agreed, and resumed her original position in Henry’s lap. “It won’t really become acute until I have given birth, but I will definitely speak to Divish about it.”

“I think we should get dressed,” Theresa announced. “Jolanda and the scribe will soon arrive for work.”

Henry walked across the inner bailey of Talmberg and he was not in a good mood. It certainly wasn’t Lady Stephanie’s fault. Delivering her back to Talmberg the day before had gone without any problems or encounters with Cumans. Arriving two hours before it had been planned originally, he used those two hours to do his duty as a professional belly rubber. There were worse things than lying next to Stephanie and dutifully calming the child inside her.

Of course, being found in the same bed as a very naked Lady of Talmberg could have made for a rather tricky to explain picture, so despite her assurances that nobody dared to come into her bedchamber unannounced, they had still opted to lock the door.

Thankfully, Sir Divish was aware of what the, from now on daily, visits of Henry were about. Stephanie had even tested if Sir Divish could achieve the same calming effect on the child, but it had sadly not worked, and even the young girl who would serve as her midwife when the time came did not have any luck. Apparently that new life growing inside her was not only to be quite sizable by the look of it, but also stubborn and insisted on connecting with its real father.

No, Lady Stephanie was certainly not to blame for his dissatisfaction. It was Hans Capon, who else. He should have been here by now so Henry could escort him to Pribyslavitz. He didn’t like tardiness from a nobleman any more than he would tolerate it from one of his men in the garrison.

“You are still here, Sir Henry?” one of the guards asked him.

“It’s just Henry, thanks,” he answered gruffly. “Of course I’m still here, but Sir Hans isn’t.”

“Uh, Sir, he left nearly an hour ago. He was early and when we told him that you had business to attend to in the castle, he left on his own.”

“That bloody idiot,” Henry swore under his breath and hurriedly took his armour pieces from the saddle bags. Of course he hadn’t met Lady Stephanie decked out in 40 pounds of metal. He quickly took off his civilian clothes and hurriedly stuffed them into the saddle bags. Two more guards came running and helped him don his armour. With a quick check he took stock of his weapons arsenal and chose one of the large recurve bows he had ‘appropriated’ from a Cuman as well as twenty brand-new arrows fresh out of Zach’s workshop.

“Do you need a guard detail?” Sir Divish asked, having been drawn out of his chamber by the commotion in the courtyard.

“No, thank you,” Henry declined. “If you could send a few men to check the usual battle spots, that would help.”

“Of course, Henry. Godspeed, lad.” the old Lord said.

Well, any hopes that he would find Hans already in Pribyslavitz were dashed when he saw a torn, red cloak hanging in a roadside bush. The bloody dolt had gotten himself ambushed again. There was only one bandit camp left in the entire wider area, and although not very frequently inhabited anymore, Henry knew it was, if at all, frequented by local bandits, rather than Cumans, which meant he had most likely been kidnapped for a ransom and his captors had therefore an interest in keeping him mostly unharmed. With Hans one had to hope for small mercies.

He took off into the direction of Uzhitz. Not very far from the village’s woodcutters camp was the only camp he and his men hadn’t yet destroyed completely. As carefully as he could, he removed the loudest bits of metal from his armour and hid them below twigs and leaves. Knowing the routine all too well, his horse Podagros lay down on the ground as well patiently letting Henry cover him with bits of undergrowth.

He downed a vial of Bowman’s brew and - crouched close to the ground - he homed in on where he suspected Hans to be, probably tied to a tree again. His suspicion was soon proven warranted. He could hear Hans before he could see him. Never missing a beat the enraged nobleman loudly accused the mothers of his captors of unholy intimate practices involving all kinds of farm animals or offered an unsolicited opinion on the size of their manhoods.

At least he sounded like he wasn’t as half-dead as after their ill-fated hunting trip the year before. Taking stock of the situation, Henry saw four bandits and judging by their expensive armour, Hans seemed not to be the first person for whom they had collected a ransom. Thankfully all of them had taken their helmets off. This wouldn’t take long.