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passage, when he heard Sir William speak quietly, his tone thoughtful.
    “He’s very worried, as we all are. Out here in the moors, it’s hard enough to keep the peasants working without losing the young ones who hope to gain their freedom and make a good quantity of money in the process.”

    “Yes, I understand the problem, but what can I do? As bailiff, I must uphold the law.”
    “And you think this is the way to do it? In God’s name!” He turned to Simon in despair. “I stopped my son from saying anything villainous about him, but—Christ Jesus!—the King cannot control the people. Look at affairs in Bristol—only two years ago, the city had to be assaulted with artillery because they refused to pay taxes due to the Crown. In the countryside, trailbaston is a growing problem, and outlaws are springing up everywhere. Villeins dare open rebellion. Nowhere do people want to obey the law; they all hold the King in contempt since Bannockburn. What’ll happen to us if this man is allowed to get away? We could have an uprising here, in my Manor. The villeins could decide to revolt—and what would you do then, bailiff? Would you come and apologize to my corpse? And to the bodies of my wife and sons?”
    There was nothing Simon could say, and after a moment the old knight’s gaze dropped to his hands. He had hoped for some help, something constructive, but it was obvious that he would get nothing from the warden or his bailiff. As the miners well knew, they had power and the strength of the law behind them. There was nothing more he could do—all was now in God’s own hands. Slowly he stood and walked from the room, suddenly feeling his age. He must at the least stop his eldest son from behaving foolishly and provoking the miners.
    When the curtain had fallen behind Sir William, Baldwin heard a heavy sigh. Glancing at the bailiff, the knight gave him a wry smile. “I think I begin to comprehend your trepidation about our visit here.”
    Simon grunted. Then, looking quickly at the curtained doorway, he stood. “Let’s go and have a look round the Manor. This room makes me nervous. I feel like a prisoner waiting for the jailer to return.”

    Once more in the courtyard, Simon took a deep breath of the warm, peat-tainted fresh air. He had expected the Beauscyrs to be angry, but that did not make it any easier. After all, he was in agreement with them, and he had no wish to be responsible for any harm to them should they be attacked by their villeins in an uprising. His friend’s sympathetic voice broke into his thoughts.
    “Come now, Simon. There is nothing else you can do for them. As you said, Peter Bruther is legally entitled to stay there if he wants.”
    “I know, I know, but that hardly helps. After all, like Sir William said, a Manor is only as good as its workforce, and if the villeins here find they can ignore their lord’s will, they’ll lose respect for him—and that can only lead to rebellion.”
    Baldwin waved a hand at the buildings ringing the yard. “You need not fear for Beauscyr overmuch,” he said dryly. “Look at this place! It would take the posse of the county to break in here.”
    Simon could see what his friend meant. From inside, the defenses could be better appreciated, and appeared even more impressive. Apart from the tall walls, the storehouses beneath the main hall looked full. Judging from the number of men bustling around, there was a fair complement of guards as well as the servants. Simon pointed with his chin at a couple standing idly near the gates. “Looks like the Beauscyrs can afford their own army.”
    Following his gaze, Baldwin nodded slowly. “Yes, well, it’s no surprise. Sir William was a soldier with the King for a number of years. He was known to have captured several of Edward’s enemies, so he must have made a lot of money from ransoming them. And no doubt he won plenty of loot.”
    There was a cynical note to his voice. “What is it?” Simon asked.