Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court by Chuck Black Page B

held her mother's hand, and with the other she clutched the cloth doll Eirwyn had given her. The doctor looked at Bentley and Eirwyn from the opposite side of the bed and shook his head.
    Eirwyn pursed her lips and sat next to Anya, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The doctor came and talked quietly to Bentley.
    “She'll not make it through the day. There's nothing more I can do. I'll arrange for the burial, but I don't know what's going to become of the little girl.”
    “Surely there must be some family here who will take her in,” Bentley whispered.
    The doctor shrugged. He finished gathering his items, placed them in a bag, and then looked at Bentley.
    “No one here can afford to feed another child,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “especially one who will never be able to produce.”
    “I'm sorry,” the doctor said, seeing the anger on Bentley's face, “but that is simply the truth.”
    Bentley went to the bed and knelt down opposite of Eirwyn and Anya. Hatty was struggling to find the strength to speak her last words.
    “Anya, you have been the joy of my life.” Hatty reached up and touched Anya's cheek. “You have given me courage to go on. Be strong, my precious, and do not let this place steal away the brightness of your heart.” Her hand slowly fell to the bed, and she struggled for one last breath.
    She spoke her last words as the air escaped her lungs. “I love you, Anya.”
    “I love you, Mommy…I love you!” Anya said over and over through a flood of tears.
    Bentley's vision blurred, and his heart broke in two as he watched the cruel sickle of death separate mother from daughter. Eirwyn tried to comfort Anya as she leaned upon her mother's chest. Anya finally turned to Eirwyn and collapsed into her embrace, and their tears mixed together in a pool of deep sorrow.
    Bentley put a gentle hand on Anya's shoulder. She looked up and wiped her eyes. “What will happen to me now?”
    Bentley looked at Eirwyn, and he could tell by her expression that she had no answer to give the girl. Neither did he.
    Just then the door creaked open and Walsch entered. He motioned for Bentley to come to the door. “I spotted Kingsley's guards coming up the way,” he said quietly.
    Bentley looked at Eirwyn as she tried to comfort Anya.
    “I'll see to it. Stay with them for a moment, will you, Walsch?” He motioned toward the bed with his eyes.
    Walsch nodded.
    As Bentley exited the cottage, he grabbed Hatty's staff, which was leaning against the door frame. Outside, he spotted two guards taking food from Eirwyn's cart. Parson stood off to the side, glaring at the men but not restricting their raid.
    The guards’ laughter ignited a flame of wrath within Bentley, and he walked briskly toward them. “Leave that food alone!” he shouted.
    The two men ignored him. Parson looked at Bentley and shook his head as each guard threw a half-eaten piece of fruit on the ground and grabbed another.
    Just as Bentley reached them, Eirwyn called to him from behind, “Leave 'em be, Bentley.”
    Bentley glared at the men, whose pompous laughter had turned to scorn. “Back away, peasant!” one of them said, moving his hand to his sword.
    Eirwyn reached Bentley's side.
    “You again!” one of the guards said angrily. “Go tell Sir Avarick,” the guard said to his companion, who rode off in a hurry toward the castle. “You cannot sell your wares without paying the tax.”
    “She doesn't sell these goods,” Bentley said, “so there is no tax.”
    The man scowled. “Everything produced in Holbrook is taxed.”
    “These were not produced in Holbrook,” Bentley retorted, “so there is no tax.”
    “Quiet, knave!” The guard drew his sword.
    “Come, Bentley,” Eirwyn pleaded and pulled on his arm. “Leave the cart. Let's go.”
    “You're not going anywhere!” The guard moved toward Eirwyn. “Sir Avarick will want reparations for your past infractions.”
    Bentley shook his arm loose from Eirwyn and stepped