Sir Richard burst into the armory.

“Thomas, William, I’ve orders for you.”

“Yes, Sir Richard.”

“Those foreign ‘catin’ who sell themselves to the Duke are nothing but trouble. Hand pick some hard-cases from the castle and ride herd on those animals around Dives.”

“What exactly would you have us do to them, Sir Richard?”

Richard threw his hands in the air. “Crack their ‘sanglant’ heads! The Duke nor I will have them interfering with our habitants. We want them in line.”

“C’est bien, Sir Richard. When?”

“Now! Do it now!”

William and Thomas were already contemplating the military ‘police’ they would select. They knew the garrison. Neither of them considered bully-boys, but they needed imposing figures. For Will, it was another adventure; for Thomas it was drawing him away from his pregnant wife. There was some disquiet in the little cottage. Thomas was Mary’s son and genetically he had inherited some of her clairvoyance. He sensed his wife’s discomfort; he felt the problems with the unborn. His mother, much more attuned and more familiar with the mental pictures could not hide her concern for her daughter-in-law and future grandchild.

Thomas had no choice. As a dedicated sworn Duke’s man his obligation had to be fulfilled.

“Will, I’ve got to see Jo-Anne and Mother. God knows how long we’ll be stuck in Dives. I’m afraid for both of them.” Thomas expected a smart retort from Will, but he was a Trivett too.

“C’est bien, Brother. I’ll have all prepared, weapons, food and horses. Do you have any preferences for the men?”

“Run over your list.”

Will recited and Thomas nodded approval at each name. “I would have selected them too, Will. I’ll be back in less than three hours.”

Will waved and the brothers set off in opposite directions. Thomas mounted Easy and in twenty minutes rode up to the cottage and secured Easy Walker to the fence. Mary was waiting in the yard. Her sixth sense had announced Thomas long before he came into view. They met at the gate and Thomas hugged and kissed his mother.

“Ca va, Mother?”

“Thomas,” she said quietly, “I am fine, but Jo-Anne is suffering.”

“I sensed that, Mother.”

“I just wanted to warn you, Son. Try not to show your concern for here she comes now.”

Thomas wiped his face of lines of care and bowed his mouth into an excited grin. He hugged his wife like fine pottery and kissed her with passion.

“Oh, Thomas, go easy now!”

He took his two favorite women about the waist and led them up to the cottage door. Once inside he enveloped Jo-Anne and kissed her again.

“All right, Thomas. What’s this all about?” Jo-Anne may not have had clairvoyance, but she was attuned to her husband. “You might as well tell me now. I know when you are troubled.”

“Jo-Anne, ma chou, Mother. I have to go to Dives to police some of Duke William’s mercenaries. They are getting out of hand while we await an invasion wind. They take advantage of the serfs and have little regard for the church. Will and I were assigned a small mobile force to prevent theft, rape or murder. Your father, Jo, curses them.” and Thomas steered Jo-Anne to a chair.

“And I, Thomas. Damned mercenaries will take you away.”

“I’ll beg of Duke William. He’d allow me leave.”
“Thomas, think what he’d say, ‘Because your wife is pregnant! What kind of army am I running? You are necessary at conception. The birth is up to Jo-Anne!”

“But you may need me.”

“Thomas, I’ll need your mother and the midwife. You would only be moral support and I know I have that. Now, when do you go?”

“At this very moment Will is selecting personnel, arms, horses and food.”

Jo-Anne’s moment of fear did not go unnoticed by Thomas or Mary, but she smiled and tried to shoo him away. Thomas signalled to Mary to leave them alone. The young couple, still newly-weds, took the moment to show their love and strangely, expressing their fears relaxed them as if the expression of terror gave them some release. Thomas hadn’t much time and he promised Jo-Anne his immediate return at the hint of any trouble. Jo-Anne promised not to have any trouble and present him with a son, Thomas III. They embraced each other loathe to release their mate. Finally, Jo-Anne pushed him away with a reassuring smile.

“Go, Thomas, or I’ll have to take you to bed, Mother or no.”

Thomas laughed and kissed and fondled her again. However, he had no choice but to leave. “I love you, My Dear!”

“And I you, Thomas!” and their fingers trailed off together as Thomas rose to leave. Mary burst back into the room shooing Thomas out. He kissed his mother’s forehead and squeezed her hands.

He was less than an hour away and Will had already made inroads into the preparation. The selected were scurrying about gathering personal effects, favorite weapons, selecting food stores and saddling a horse of choice. Another hour and the force of police were mounted. Will addressed them.

“Sergeant!”

“Attention!” and the troop paid it.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Men we are going to Dives. The mercenaries encamped there for the embarkation of the invasionary army are getting restless. They are treating our local Normans badly. The serfs suggest theft, murder and rape. We have to put some order in their camp. We will be the law. For the most part we will likely only have to break a few heads to get their attention. Once they recognize that they are doing a ‘bad thing’ they’ll behave themselves.”

A few smiled at the suggestion of childish fellows.

“Allez, Sergeant!”

“Allez, mes enfants!” and the troop moved in unison and clattered over the cobbles of the castle yard with the sergeant at the fore. Will and Thomas brought up the rear for the moment.

“How’s Jo-Anne?”

“I’m worried, Will!”

“All prospective fathers are, Thomas.”

“Mais oui.” And Thomas withdrew into a shell that Will did not try to penetrate. Instead, he began to hum and eventually burst into song—a bawdy garrison song naturally—and before long the whole troop joined in—except Thomas.

Serfs busy in the fields with haying leaned on their forks and watched the band canter by. The singing had made their day a little brighter, their fork, as a little smoother, and their load a little lighter. Even grazing cattle looked up at the boisterous rollicking singers en route to Dives.

At this rate they would eat up the fifty-five miles in short order. The two young knights and their sergeant were not pressing them for they wished the troops to make a majestic entry into the camps. The uniform, the size and the demeanor would have more effect than broken heads. A cudgel was a last

resort for the thicker skulls.

They crossed the Risle River at Pont-Audemer and drew up at Pont-l’Eveque on the Touques River. That was close enough. Tomorrow they would put on their game face. Today they could enjoy a lovely summer day. Thomas, Will and the sergeant talked over their entry to the camps. Rigid attention, visage frozen, knitted eyebrows, weapons at the ready, attire imposing—there would be no singing tomorrow. Cook broke out some gear and the troop made hasty camp. With so few men it was a short business and food selected by Will was better than the garrison mess. Bellies full, exhausted by the hours in the saddle, the men soon rolled into their robes and slept. Thomas took the first watch and the night passed uneventfully.

At dawn the sergeant roared his wake-up call and not a man turned a deaf ear. Cook was ready for them. They ate, rolled their gear and made themselves presentable. They looked to their mounts who had been hobbled over night in a fair pasture. The horses were watered at the Touques and then curried and saddled. The men donned the shift emblazoned with the Duke’s emblem, and Will and Thomas were clad partially in armor. They all looked prepared. They mounted on order, saluted their knights and fell in behind Thomas and Will in ranks of two.

The first camp they encountered was French. The mercenaries were impressed. All twelve Normans were huge; all twelve were battle-hardened; all twelve stared straight ahead out of unblinking eyes; all twelve sat the saddle like posts—an imposing threatening sight. Will on the other hand was light hearted and sought out the knight in charge.

“Bon jour, my fine fellow. We are so glad to see you.”

Thomas thought, ‘He sounds like a fop!’

“Bon jour,” the Frenchman returned grudgingly.

“My good man, I am Sir William Trivett,” and with a hand wave, “ my brother Sir Thomas Trivett and”—he waited for effect—“ the nastiest bunch of bastards in William of Normandy’s army,” he added with a growl. “ It seems Duke William has heard , with disapproval, of his seasoned army perpetrating devious acts on the peasantry. So, he said to us, “Will, Thomas, stop it.” Then in a lighter tone he added, “So, We brought along these goliaths to be certain all would understand. Do you understand, Sir?” The Frenchman stared the behemoths up and down.

“Sir Will, I understand perfectly.”

“It is a pleasure to deal with someone of intelligence. Didn’t I just tell you, Thomas, the French are intelligent civilized people?” Thomas nodded. “We’ll be on our way as we have many camps to visit.” With a feminine flick of the wrist he bade the sergeant ride on with his statuesque policemen. Will leaned over to the French knight and in a basso growl said, “Don’t make me come back or I’ll remove your testicles!”

The man jumped back.

Well outside the French camp and out of earshot Thomas asked, “What were you whispering to that Frenchman?”

“I told him I would remove his manhood if I had to return.”

The brothers started to laugh and the now relaxed force couldn’t help but smile or laugh contagiously with them.

Not all camps were so easily convinced. They rode into a Breton camp. Will went into his act. “I would see your captain, my good man.”

“Who the hell are you?” A cudgel rose and fell almost quicker than the eye. Blood appeared on the Breton crown as he slid to the turf.

“Oh My! He has hurt himself!” Will effused. “Now, where is your Captain?” The next Breton pointed out the captain’s shelter. “ Thank you, Soldier.” The troop rode into the central compound—twelve against two hundred. The Breton knight emerged and was awed by the brazen platoon of automatons. Will explained the visit.

“Piss off, Norman!” a Breton snarled. One of the statues became animate. The cudgel descended and the miscreant who spoke assumed the fetal position on the ground sacrificing some of his blood to Mother Earth. There were some growls and the threat of violence began to close in on the police force. Will interceded in his jovial manner.

“Tsk! Tsk! Mustn’t take offense, Alfred. After all, these Bretons are our allies. And now, my good Captain, you understand our position. We must keep law and order in the area. If you have any need for supplies, food, water or weapons please see the Bishop of Caen as he is a brother to the Duke. He will be much more understanding than our peasants. Do not bother the peasants! Sergeant!”

The giants touched their mounts in unison and the troop moved off. Thomas leaned from the saddle and whispered threateningly, “Keep your dogs on a short leash, Breton. If they touch one Norman you’ll see how my crusader bites!” and he patted the hilt of his Toledo sword.

It was not fun being the bully and the situations were dangerous. Most often Will explained in a hearty manner and the commanders of the troops understood and swore to maintain control of their men. Occasionally, there had to be a repeat performance by the whole Rouen force, but usually all that was necessary was a two man patrol to visit the vicinity. They always remained aloof, but made certain the encampment was aware of their presence. Intelligently, someone decided that keeping these troops active was easier than policing them and the patrols carried challenges from post to post—archery, riding, javelin and even wrestling kept the army active, trained and busy in competition directing their energies to something worthwhile. This was much to the liking of the knights of police, Thomas and Will. They fielded not a few challenges themselves and their men had yet to be bested in hand-to-hand combat.

“Will , do you think the peasants know what we have done for them?”

“Not likely, Thomas. Poor devils are too intent trying to eke out a living from the land.”