September 1069

I left the dining room with Eadric, leaving Hilda and Eva to get her out of… that and hopefully get it reverted. While that was going on, I turned and looked down at Eadric, who looked confused more than eadriced.

"Is that always going to happen to her?" he finally asked, after about half a minute of silence.

I clicked my tongue. "Well, probably not as extreme, there were a few factors to… that, but in general, yes. It looks like transformation of her surroundings is going to be a constant around her. But outside of moments of surprise and panic when she's wielding magic, it's probably going to be more subtle, creeping. The real test is going to be if it affects everything else around her, and not just her clothes." I sighed. "It's definitely going to be harder to hide her gift though. I think… ugh. If she had a talent for glamours or the better part of a year's training, I might have revisited the disguise-her-as-my-niece idea. As it stands…" I ran a hand through my hair. "I think she'll need a large, cycling wardrobe to stave off the effects. Which means money."

Eadric was silent for a few moments, then sighed. "I'll speak with my wife, and see what we can manage. For her and Cuthbert." He pursed his lips, and shot me glance. "We don't particularly have a sizable treasury."

I could almost hear the silent 'anymore.' Though, if Hilda had felt comfortable enough paying me the sum that she did, and had managed to convince Eadric of it, then they clearly weren't that badly off.

I didn't point that out though. Instead, I just nodded. "The letter did say I was expected to respond within the week. Which, assuming the three days have bit into that, and the travel time, means I've got about half that."

Eadric nodded. "Two days. We'll be ready in two days."

Two days turned out to be a timely estimate, though for different reasons than expected. Chiefly because at that time another messenger appeared, this time without a letter, and told Eadric to muster his fyrd and join Robert in driving off some raiding Danes.

So that changed things.

In the end, after another day of organizing, scrambling, and deciding-not-to-travel-at-night-ing, two dozen footmen and four riders – Eadric, Cuthbert, me, and Eva, the latter on a simple riding horse – set out from Eadric's manor towards Berkhamsted. My knowledge of feudal obligations and laws was fuzzy, but I was pretty sure Eadric was bringing more men than he strictly had to. I guess he disliked the Danes more than he disliked obeying a Norman.

Also, I felt a lot safer traveling alongside a large group than I did a small one. On my own, I could put up rather more dangerous and destructive wards to keep myself safe. As part of a large group, there was enough concentration of force to scare off most supernatural predators. Small groups though, those had an unfortunate tendency of disappearing. Like what may have happened with the redcaps if the things had been just a little bit quicker to mob me.

I'll skip over the trip there. It really wasn't interesting.

When we arrived at Berkhamsted I saw that the field out to the west, past the moat that surrounded the town, a small town of tents had cropped up. As Eadric peeled our convoy off in their direction, I counted heads and tents and came up with a rough figure of two to three hundred. Small numbers, but if this was just the locally sourced host that was going to join a larger force then that made sense.

Fortunately, it looked like the man Robert had put in charge of the camp – a five-ten man with a moustache so puffy it almost looked like a tail – knew enough English to get by. There was some posturing and grumbling and staring and a little eadricing, but in the end things were sorted out and all but two of Eadric's men were sent off to the mustering field. Then the rest of us turned and proceeded into town. We made our way over the moat, through the town gates, through the streets, through the castle gates, and finally dismounted in the courtyard.

Robert wasn't holding court at the time, so rather than going through the rigamarole of introducing himself and his kids and whatnot, Eadric was instead directed to a set of guest rooms by the steward and told him that Robert would get to him either by tonight or the war council, whichever came first. Eadric eadriced in response, probably weighing the potential snub of not being acknowledged with the desire to not interact with Robert more than he had to.

I didn't get that benefit. No, I was packed off to meet the earl right away and with haste.

The first sign I had that this was going to be a FUN conversation was that John wasn't present in the small side room I'd been bundled into. Robert was, however.

"Earl Robert," I said carefully, nodding my head to him. See? I could do diplomacy. Sometimes. A little.

"Jedi," less funny when it comes from a high-ranking nobleman speaking to you in private in a small room, "take a seat."

The room was fairly small, with a single round table, two chairs, an open window, and a platter topped with a goblet and some wine. A leisure room of some kind, at my guess. One chair was occupied by the aforementioned Robert, so I slid the other one a little away and sat down.

"Where's John?" I asked.

"In his chapel," Robert said distractedly, swirling around a mostly empty goblet of wine.

I nodded, though I wasn't exactly happy to hear that. Talking to Robert with John around seemed a good way of staving off any flareups of stupid pride.

"The Kingswood arrangement?" I probed.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, that. I brought it before Odo." He paused then, to see if I recognized the name. I didn't. "Do you know who he is?"

"No."

"He's my brother. The regent of England, when the king is back home. At least, when Odo isn't there as well. He likely would have agreed, but then King William came back the next day, and I put the proposal before him. He seemed… pleased at the offering," he said.

"So everything's fine? The agreement's good?"

"Yes, yes. We'll go tell the centaurs of that today, time allowing." He lapsed into silence, and I figured there was no point in prodding him further on this subject. It wasn't like I had much personal investment in it.

"I take it you read my letter?" he asked.

I bit down a response along the lines of 'did you actually write it' and just nodded. "You want me to be your advisor and troublesh..tabber for weird shit."

Robert gave me a look, then, after a few seconds, asked, "Troublestabber?"

"If there's trouble, I stab it. Metaphorically, anyway. I don't use my sword all that often."

Robert continued giving me a look, then shook his head. "Yes, that, in… in short."

"Alright. But I've got some conditions," I said.

The look Robert gave me this time was less confused 'what the fuck' and more imperious 'what the fuck.'

"Let's make this clear right off the bat: you don't have any legal authority over me," I said. "I'm not a part of your feudal structure, I'm not a citizen or a serf, I'm not English, I'm not Norman, nothing. I'm subject to the laws of the land I'm in, obviously, but that's different. If we have a serious enough disagreement, I can and will leave."

Robert eadriced for a bit, and so I shrugged and moved to get up. While starting over after blowing off Robert would be a problem, it wasn't the end of the world, and I wasn't willing to subordinate myself like that to anyone. The last time I had gone that far, I'd also arranged my own murder. My own suicide? Murder-suicide? Something like that.

"Fine," Robert finally grumbled, and I sat back down. "Is that all?"

"That's the most important point. The rest are details, some large, some small," I said. "Allow me to guess your next request: you want me to accompany you against the Danes."

Robert nodded.

"That's not happening," I said. "Explaining why would be easier if John was around, but he isn't, so I'll explain, and you can check with him after." I stretched out my arms. "The Bible goes to… some lengths to describe magic, in various contexts, punishments, so on. The relevant part here is in the second book of the… Septuagint, Exodus. Specifically, Exodus twenty-two-eighteen."

I'd never actually read the Bible in full, or even in large part, and I'd definitely never read a Latin version, so my quoting of the Bible was accompanied by a twinge of pain and a headache. That said, Exodus 22:18 was something I was keenly familiar with, considering how it got bandied about in the future.

"Maleficos non patieris vivere," I quoted. "Roughly, it means 'thou shalt not suffer the maleficos to live.' There are different ways to translate maleficos, you can check with your chaplain later, but they're all variations on 'someone who uses magic for evil.'" I looked at Robert. "And murder is definitely a sin, doubly so with magic.

"Now, that line is fuzzier when it comes to faeries and other supernatural beings, but when it comes to humans there is no debate. Using magic to kill is flatly wrong. Even in the context of self-defense it's a stretch." Something which I wasn't sure how to feel about, personally. Seeing as how I'd be quite headless otherwise, I was very attached to it being a valid defense. On the other hand, self-defense was too easy to stretch, really, and using it as an excuse to kill was a habit I very much did not want to develop. Generally, avoiding situations where I might be faced with that quandary seemed the better course of action.

"And if the Danes have magic of their own?" Robert asked.

I snorted. I couldn't help myself. "Yes, because it's so likely battle magic will be deployed here and now, by a group of opportunistic raiders, rather than a few years earlier in the succession crisis where it would have had a bigger impact." I gave Robert a flat look. "Did you and your king use any wizards, witches, or practitioners when conquering England? Did Harold Godwinson when defending it?"

Robert scowled.

"Didn't think so," I said. "Now, if I had reason to believe magic was going to be used against you, then I'd help. But I don't, and I'm not interested in getting anywhere near a battlefield again."

Robert arched an eyebrow. "Again," he noted.

I nodded, and offered no further comment.

"Hmph. And what else will you not do?" he asked.

"I won't manipulate people with magic, affecting minds and whatnot – something I think you'll have no problem with."

Robert scowled and grunted.

"No raising the dead, not that I'm capable of that anyway," I said.

Though I technically could, if I really, really, really needed to. I did have the Dummy's Guide to Grand Necromancy stuck in my head, after all.

"No love potions," I added. "And no alchemy or counterfeiting or forgery or anything else like that."

Robert grunted again, though it was less displeased and more perfunctory. "Is that all?" he asked, his tone of voice slightly dry.

"No. I also want a house," I said.

That drew a blink from Robert. "A what?"

"A house. In town. That's all my own. I'm not going to live or work in the castle," I said.

Robert blinked, then shook his head. "You can work that out with my steward. Anything else?"

There were a lot of little things I wanted, admittedly, including payment and/or a stipend. But I didn't feel like pushing too hard right then.

Also, if I pushed the topic of renumeration when John was around, I figured I could get his support.

Author's Note: I was tempted to make a 'and a partridge in a pear tree' quip, but I don't think the joke would've landed very well.