The western sun began to fade, and night slowly fell.
The knights on patrol were only just returning. Their duties, beyond maintaining order in the villages, included regularly checking on the population and their living conditions. They provided some aid to villagers in dire straits, and the Church would usually subsidize a portion of it.
In normal times, free from plague and war, such aid was quite effective. In Mann at present, however, there were simply too many people who needed relief.
It was a thankless task. The Knights were reluctant to enter villages hit hard by the plague; leaving a few sacks of wheat at the entrance was considered the mark of a dedicated and kind-hearted man.
Of course, the biggest headache wasn’t distributing relief, but collecting taxes.
For the past two years, at best, only a third of the villages under the jurisdiction of Fougeres Castle had been able to pay their taxes.
This tax revenue was nowhere near enough to provide relief for so many villagers. Fortunately, in his younger years, Baron Alan had earned great renown—and a handsome reward of gold and silver—for helping Duke William conquer Mann. Furthermore, Lady Eleanor’s domain of Loire Castle had not been severely affected by the plague, allowing some of its grain to be transferred over. This was how Fougeres Castle had managed to barely maintain the status quo.
On top of that, the household knights’ salaries had been cut by about a tenth over the past few months, even as their workload increased.
The household knights returning from patrol soon discovered that the castle was unusually lively tonight.
The castle courtyard was filled with unfamiliar knights, and the smoke wafting from the kitchen carried a rich aroma, much stronger than usual.
It was venison, seasoned with spices.
The Knights were seated in a separate hall, while the guards and other military retainers dined in the castle courtyard.
In the main hall, where Eric sat.
In the main hall, where Eric sat, a large fireplace stood at either end. The chimneys were so crudely built that at least as much smoke billowed into the room as escaped outside. As a result, the beams and rafters of the low-ceilinged hall were coated in a layer of inky soot.
Implements of war and the hunt hung on the walls. In each corner of the room, a pair of doors led to other parts of the sprawling residence.
Including Eric, only eight people were present.
They were the Old Baron, Eleanor, Eric, and Jeanne, along with Eleanor’s maid, Ejiva. Ejiva, five years older than Jeanne, was the only maid in the castle and was responsible for serving the food.
There were also two second-rate amateur minstrels who, by their own account, were cooks by day and minstrels by night.
One of them was playing a lute, an instrument from Andalusia that had recently grown popular, and was beginning to surpass the Greek lyre among minstrels.
"The Lord of Heaven is with us... we cannot retreat.
Charge, General, do not delay!
King Charles is on the side of justice!
God has sent us to see His truth be done!
..."
However, the two of them were truly not very good.
It was Jeanne’s first time in the castle. The grandeur of Fougeres Castle was enough to make her feel stiff and uncomfortable, and she kept glancing from the food on the table back to Eric.
In fact, she had tried to avoid coming by climbing a large tree outside the castle, only to be forcibly carried down by Eric.
That was why she was still pouting, a feeling only intensified by her hunger.
But someone felt even more uncomfortable than she did: Eleanor. She was troubled by another matter entirely—the Old Baron had ordered her to sleep with Eric tonight.
Her mind raced, endlessly imagining what would happen later in the room.
Then, an idea seemed to strike her, and she began to relentlessly pour wine for Eric.
The Old Baron was the most cheerful person in the hall. He loved a lively atmosphere, and Fougeres Castle hadn’t been this festive in a long time.
But after just two cups of wine, his head slumped to one side, and he fell asleep.
It was as if his consciousness for the day had exceeded its limit and simply shut down.
Eric had someone escort the Old Baron back to his room.
With the master of the hall gone, the only people of consequence left were Eleanor and Eric.
Eleanor immediately turned her head, avoiding Eric’s gaze.
Eric was far calmer. He continued to gnaw on a rabbit leg, handed another to Jeanne, and then deliberately smeared some of the grease from it onto her face.
At that moment, the minstrel sang:
"Go quickly, sing softly,
Into the deep woods,
To deliver this thrilling news.
Her beautiful hair, her lovely form,
I love her with such sincerity,
Yet still dare not speak her name..."
Eleanor suddenly felt the urge to punch both minstrels.
She couldn’t take it anymore and stood up.
"I... I-I’m full. I’ll return to my room now."
With that, Eleanor gathered her skirts and walked toward the doors of the main hall.
"Of course, my dear wife, Eleanor." Eric waved at her. "I’m nearly finished myself."
Eleanor was struck speechless. "You..."
At that moment, the minstrel sang again:
"A purity of heart and memory
Makes me sing this song of love:
Let me sing freely, for God has given me this power,
With such words and feeling,
To wash away the mire of my emotions.
Come, my love,
I have pledged my loyalty to you
Since we first met, even in my very thoughts..."
This was the last straw for Eleanor. She whipped her head around to face the minstrel. "Weren’t you just singing the Song of Roland?!"
The minstrel jumped, startled. It was likely the first time he had ever heard Lady Eleanor lose her temper. He coughed twice, puffed out his chest, and declared, "A good minstrel must adapt to the moment, my lady."