A Friar's Bloodfeud: (Knights Templar 20) Read Online Free PDF

the
     itching.
    They must have been fleas. That grotty little tavern was probably alive with the damned things. In all Adam’s years, he’d
     never stayed in a hovel that was more likely to breed them.
    He scratched at his neck and shuddered with the cold. Adam, always known as Adcock by his friends, was a man of two and twenty
     years, slimly built, with a face that would have been pleasing enough if it weren’t for the marks of the pox which scarred
     it. He had regular features, large, wide-set eyes under a broad forehead, a slender nose and rather full lips. His hair was
     dark, and already receding at the temples, so he knew well enough that before too long he’dlook like his old man, Jack, who’d lost almost all his hair by the time he was thirty. Adcock could vaguely remember seeing
     him with hair when Adcock had been very young, but all his other memories had his father looking more like the vill’s priest
     than a servant in Sir Edward Bouville’s household.
    Servant he had been, and proud, too. Adcock’s father had been with the Bouville family all his life, and the old devil had
     been justifiably satisfied with his position. He had new clothes each summer and winter, a gallon of ale a day, food, and
     money when he needed it. When he married Adcock’s mother, he was given a small plot not too far from the manor, and he was
     regularly granted time to go and visit it and see his wife, when his duties allowed. Adcock had only good memories of the
     old man.
    Feeling another itch on his back, he grimaced and swore quietly. He’d not sleep in a cheap place like that ever again. Hopefully
     he wouldn’t have to. Not once he’d taken up his new position.
    It was his own fault. If he’d set off when he’d meant to, leaving Oakhampton early in the morning, he’d have reached his new
     home by evening. As it was, there was the rush to say his farewells, going to see his mother at the last minute and accepting
     her offer of bread and cheese washed down with some of her best ale – well, he didn’t know when he’d see her again; she was
     getting quite old now, and wouldn’t live for ever: God willing, she’d still be alive when he next came this way – and after
     that he had to go and visit Hilda at the dairy, sneaking up behind her to grab her bubbies as she stood working the butter
     churn, making her squeak with alarm, silencing her scolding with kisses. It was hard to leave her behind – but they’d agreed
     she’dbest remain until he had saved some money and they could wed.
    That was a daunting prospect. Many of his friends had married, but somehow Adcock had never thought of himself as a husband.
     Yet here he was, ambling along on his pony and already considering how Hilda would look in a small cottage somewhere near
     the manor. He could install her there and go to visit her regularly, with luck. Perhaps, if the steward was an amiable, understanding
     sort of man, Adcock could find a place very close. With proximity he could see her more often, perhaps even stay with her
     each night?
    But first, he told himself, he must take charge of his manor. Under the steward, he would be the most powerful man on the
     demesne.
    The steward was Sir Geoffrey Servington, a man whose name inspired respect. He’d been a warrior for many years, and he and
     Sir Edward had been in all the important battles of the last thirty years. Now he was all but retired, of course, as was Sir
     Edward himself, although that did not dim his reputation. By all accounts he was a demanding, ruthless taskmaster, determined
     to squeeze the very last drop from his serfs, but that was what was sometimes needed. When they lived so far from their real
     lord, some peasants would grow lax and idle. It needed a man with a vigorous manner to keep them under control.
    It was daunting to someone like Adcock, though. He only prayed that he might find in Sir Geoffrey a man who was accommodating
     and reasonable.
    He was almost there.