Page 20 of Wolf's Keep

“Mon Seigneur Gaharet,” Brenton said, nodding his head in deference. “It appears the fault is all mine. You see—”

“Damn right it is,” said Tumas.

“My pigs got out of their yard, Mon Seigneur Gaharet,” said Brenton, ignoring Tumas. “Broke straight through. That old sow is a crafty thing, and I swear she has worked on that fence for weeks now, testing for weak spots.”

“Got into my cabbages. The stinking lot of them. Filthy animals.”

“Now, hold on. My pigs are clean animals. The cleanest animals there are, and they provide good meat for the estate. They are smart, too.” He shrugged. “Maybe a little too smart.”

“They ate half my damn cabbages and dug up a freshly seeded field.”

Gaharet raised an eyebrow at Brenton.

Brenton nodded. “That they did. So I rounded my pigs up and then went to see old Tumas here about compensation and the damn fool chased me around the field with a hoe. Tried to kill me.”

“Your pigs destroyed half my crop.”

“Which I offered to pay for.”

“In small sums over the year.”

The two men faced each other, nose to nose.

“I cannot afford the entire sum in one payment,” said Brenton. “And half the pigs will not be ready for sale for at least two more months.”

“And I cannot afford to lose half my cabbages.”

“Enough!” Gaharet brought a halt to the argument before Tumas took a swing at Brenton. Both men lapsed into silence, though Tumas looked like he had more to say. “This is what is going to happen. Brenton.” Gaharet pointed a finger at him. “You will repair your yards at your own expense.”

“Yes, Mon Seigneur Gaharet.”

“Make them stronger this time. We do not want them getting into what is left of Tumas’ crop.”

“What about my lost cabbages?”

Gaharet glared at the old man and Tumas flinched, taking a step back.

“Iwill reimburse you for your cabbages.”

Brenton’s eyes went wide. “Mon Seigneur Gaharet?”

Tumas snorted.

“I need both my farmers. Neither of you can bear the loss,” said Gaharet, by way of explanation.

“Thank you, Mon Seigneur Gaharet.” Brenton bowed his head. “My family is in your debt.”

“That will be all,” he said, dismissing them both.

Old Tumas turned on his heel. “Keep your damn pigs in your yard from now on,” he muttered to Brenton, clomping from the hall.

“Truly, thank you, Mon Seigneur Gaharet.”

He waved away the gratitude. “Make sure those pigs do not get out again, Brenton.”

“Of course, Mon Seigneur.” He bowed again and followed Tumas from the hall.

Gascon appeared at his side.

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