Ashes Ashes: Chapter One

Entitlement: 1

The Viscount Bouchier regarded his birthday gift with certain unease. Cornflower blue eyes fell sideways at the companion to his left, a well groomed brow lifting in question. 2

"Land, father?" He bit the inside of his cheek in order to control the disappointment weighing heavy on his tongue. "You give me a piece of land in honor of my coming of age." 3

Henry Bourchier, most recently entitled Earl of Essex, an epithet granted by the King himself in light of Henry's continuous fealty to the Crown, turned to his son, a knowing gleam in his eye. 4

"Not just land, William. You must look beyond what your eyes perceive, and gaze upon this soil as it should be." The Earl smiled at his sons poorly stifled guffaw, tightening his grip on the reigns of the thoroughbred that shuffled its hooves upon rocky hillside beneath him. 5

"And what, precisely, is it that I am suppose to see without using my eyes?" William bantered, squinting his eyes while tilting his head to and fro. The Earl barked out a short laugh before turning his face heavenward. 6

"Opportunity." Henry closed his eyes and inhaled the sultry air of the English summer; a swirling collaboration of rain, wild lisianthus and salt marshes. He lowered his gaze to his son, a wistful smile crinkling the crows feet of his eyes. "This land is yours to do with as you wish. Sell it, burn it, farm it, whatever your hearts desire, William."7

The Viscount brushed an errant lock of unruly ebony from his brow, a furrow marring his handsome features. 8

"No stipulations? Just this," He motioned to the grassy, rock speckled countryside before him with a nonchalant wave. 9

"My scouts have informed me of a small village just over the ridge near the river." Henry nodded to the North. "A humble collection of farmers and traders left over from the infection. They have been informed of the change in ownership by letter," He continued with a pointed glance at his son, "And until further notice, are expected to pay taxes to you."10

"Taxes?" William scoffed. "What manner of value can a meager borough of simple farmers and freed slaves bring me? A bale of hay?" The Viscount rolled his eyes, the contempt he held for the lower class tainting every word with a sting of malice. "Or perhaps a chicken?" He sneered, ignoring his father's frown. 11

"The method of payment is for you to decide, William. As I've said, this is all yours now. Do with it as you will, but" Henry rebuked, "Do not mock their standing, such ill conduct is beneath you." 12

William shifted in the saddle, uncomfortably aware of his father's respect for the commonality that swarmed the land like a plague of locusts. Such sentiment, in his eyes, was wasted. 13

What good were the peasants for other than tilling the land and herding the cattle? They knew nothing of propriety, nothing of nobility and true responsibility. Their days were filled with unwashed bodies and godless musings. 14

A warm drop of water splattering against his cheek tore him from his thoughts. William chanced a look up at the churning, grey overcast heavily pregnant with rain. Next to him, Henry followed suit and tsked at the threatening weather. 15

"God bless your mother, William, but her temper is one to dissuade the devil himself. Anne will never forgive me if I allow you to catch a chill. Best we return to the estate." The Earl grinned at his son before tugging the reigns and turning the horse back to the East. Henry kicked the steed into a brisk canter, a trail of disturbed mud and grass settling in his wake. 16

William squinted once more, the countryside before him blurring into an indistinguishable mess of cringe-worthy uselessness. He blinked his vision back into focus with a heavy sigh, heeling his horse after his father. 17

"Some opportunity." The Viscount sneered with one last glance over his shoulder catching sight of a faint column of chimney smoke curling lazily skyward from somewhere beyond the ridge.18