by JF Smith
The Archbishop relaxed and said, “Thank you, King Thayliss. I appreciate your willingness to respect some very old principles of our religion.”
Gully watched as a few of the archers took their practice shots. A couple of the targets were on wheels and pulled by horses by a safe length of rope. It gave the archers an opportunity to practice with moving targets.
“Forgive my candor, but I have a suspicion that you do not hold to our religion very closely,” said Nellist. He watched to see the king’s reaction to such a comment.
“Aye, I have nothing against it, and I know Thaybrill and Lord Marshal Delescer are very faithful,” said Gully. “Your suspicion is correct, though. My father, Ollon, did not follow it at all. He may have known very little of it, even. As a result, I did not grow up with it the way Roald and Thaybrill did, and never had it instilled into me.”
Nellist said genially, “Well, that gives me the opportunity to bring you into it, personally. I look forward to doing so!”
Gully sighed internally, but nodded appreciatively to the Archbishop. First the old man wanted to make sure Gully knew the limits of his power, and now he wanted to bring him under his religious influence. The man may have had good intentions, but Gully refused to be curbed this way.
He took his leave of the Archbishop and wandered to the other side of the bailey where Abella Jule and a few other Balmoreans were also watching the archers. He was considering asking Abella Jule if she would like to spend some time playing a few games of swords and shields. He wasn’t sure if she liked the game or even knew how to play it, but hoped it would be a pleasant way to spend some time with her.
She smiled broadly as he approached, her dark eyes sparkling in the midday sun. The only thing that shadowed them was her father’s scowl. It was not properly a scowl, but Encender seemed not entirely pleased to see Gully.
Encender said, “You were generously lenient on the worthless louts that have caused so much pain and damage to so many.”
At least Gully knew where he stood with Encender, even if it never seemed to be a very good standing.
“You believe so, ’Cender?” asked Gully. He tried not to, but his eyes stole an additional brief glance at Abella Jule. Her eyes told him that she did not necessarily share her father’s opinion of the decreed punishment.
Encender practically snarled at Gully, “Those monsters should be dead by first light! Every one of them! They should be forced to hang each other!”
Gully wondered if anyone would ever be happy with him.
He said, “I will grant that there is no punishment that I, or anyone else, could levy that would balance the scales of justice for all that they have done. But a day in the gaol, followed by a few moments of hanging by a noose? That, to me, seems the lenient punishment. It seems almost a kindness given what they have done. Instead, I have convicted them to a lifetime of the same misery they have caused. They will live their days experiencing what they did to so many. And then at their death, their souls will sink to the bottom of the ocean and they will drown in the black depths for the rest of time.”
“You practically reward them! Life... any life... is too good for them!” insisted Encender.
Gully looked at the patriarch’s son thoughtfully. “Not for them. Not for ones as spoiled and as arrogant as they are. They will spend each day thinking about the life they lost, the privilege they no longer hold. They will spend each day being bitterly reminded of what they did to every one of their victims.”
He turned to Abella Jule before Encender could complain further and asked, “Abella Jule, I came to ask the honor of your company for a game of swords and shields, if it would make you happy.”
A broad smile lit up Abella’s face, but she looked hesitantly at her father.
Encender shrugged and said, “You might as well enjoy this while you can.”
Gully’s brow furrowed as he tried to understand Encender’s insinuation. “I beg your pardon, Encender. I do not get your meaning.”
“I said she might as well enjoy this while she can, before you turn your back on us,” said Encender with a cold eye.
“Turn my back... how can you possibly say that?” asked Gully, the incredulous shock written on his expression. “Turn my back on you? Are you not welcome anywhere in the kingdom you wish to go? Have I not forbid the killing of any animals inside the city to ensure the safety of all balmors? How is any of that ‘turning my back on you?’”
“Not yet, but I expect you will. We are but guests, and the welcome for us is not a bottomless well. You have your Iisen throne now and have ignored your place with us,” said Encender. Abella Jule shrank down at her father’s comments, but Encender paid no attention to her reaction.
“If you believed, really believed, that I would turn my back on you, then why would you and your fighters participate in capturing the Maqarans at the pass? Why join the fight?” asked Gully.
“I look out for the safety of the Mercher clan. That was the best way to do so. And while I think you have good intentions — not as good as my father thinks — it is inevitable you will fall into the easy path and the comfortable seat of the king of Iisen, among your people. That means that you will relegate us back to what we were before. You have gotten what you wanted from us and now you do not need us any longer!”
“That simply is not true!” said Gully, very stung by the words. “I highly respect the Mercher clan! I highly value your sacrifices and willingness to join and help in our crisis. The member of your clan that lost his life in the battle with the Maqarans pains me every bit as much as the eight Iisen guardsmen killed that day!”
Encender watched him for a moment and then said sadly, “I find it telling that it’s always ‘you Merchers’ and ‘your clan’ with you. We are always something separate from you. I stand by my opinion.”
Encender turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Gully behind, shaken and dumbfounded.
Chapter 36 — The Thief In Irons
“Your Highness?”
The words didn’t even register with Gully, who was distracted in thought. His mind was biting worriedly at the deadline he had issued to the Maqarans. It was three days hence, and there were many things about it over which to worry. The common thread in all of his anxiety, though, was that for his father.
“Highness?”
He worried about the Maqaran reaction to his ultimatum. There had been no official response from King Azi to the demands from Iisen before their captured soldiers would be returned, and that was the first of Gully’s worries. What if the Maqarans didn’t care about getting their soldiers back? What if they refused to return the slaves? What if they killed the Iisen and Balmorean slaves just to spite the Iisendom and its demands? What if they tried to attack again, with the full and considerable force of all of Maqara this time? What if his father had died in slavery long ago? Or what if things had been so bad for him for so long that he no longer recognized his own son?
It all made his head throb sharply like the beating of a drum.
At his hand, he felt a cold, wet nose nudge him and a “grumph” come from the wolf there. He looked down at Gellen, who eyed him sharply and then jerked his head over towards the Chancellor standing nearby.
Chancellor Barolloy repeated, “Your Majesty?”
These court sessions had been going on for a few days now and had become a draining routine for Gully.
Gully said, in genuine apology, “Forgive me, Barolloy, I did not catch what you said. Would you mind repeating it?”
Chancellor Barolloy had grown much more comfortable around the young king over the last few days, but he seemed unsure and nervous this time.
Barolloy asked, “I asked, Sire, what punishment should be assigned?”
Gully scratched at his palm and looked at the scrawny man forced to his knees in front of him, the chains around his ankles. The man looked terrified.
“Again, forgive my wandering attention. What crime has he committed?”
&nbs
p; Before Barolloy could answer, a voice from the side of the Throne Hall interrupted sharply, “The man is a... thief, Your Highness!”
Gully’s heart clenched at the words and he looked to see Strafe veWarrnest stepping out from the shadows of the side of the hall, an icy smile on his face.
veWarrnest continued, “He is a thief that stole a vest and the money in it. He was caught red-handed trying to sell it hardly moments later. He still had the money on him!”
“A thief,” repeated Gully as his eyes narrowed. Every time he had imagined this situation, he was the one in irons, kneeling and awaiting his sentence to be uttered. But this way, with him sitting in judgment of someone else who had stolen, was a travesty. It was exactly what veWarrnest wanted.
“Yes,” said veWarrnest as he placed a foot on the lowest step of the dais where Gully sat. “I thought that since Your Highness has such a keen interest in equitable punishments, for both nobles and these... lower ilk, you would certainly prefer to preside over this one yourself.”
Gully was irritated now, but refused to let it show. Strafe had no interest in this thief, other than to make the new king squirm over punishing someone for the very crimes he himself had committed. veWarrnest wanted to force Gully into a situation that was impossible to win. If he punished the man in front of him, he became an unjust and capricious king. If he let the man go, then he was giving tacit approval to criminal behavior.
“That’s all you stole?” asked Gully of the thief kneeling before him. The thief in him wanted to laugh and tell the man that he had known how to steal a vest and the money in it, and get away freely with it, when he was fourteen years old.
“That we know of, Highness,” insisted veWarrnest. “And what makes the crime infinitely worse, as I’m sure Your Highness would agree, is that he stole it from a nobleman.”
Gully’s lip twitched in anger. There was no way veWarrnest could know that Gully had stolen from Basstrolle; only Thaybrill and Roald knew about that. This was no more than a way to try to drive a wedge between Gully and the other nobles if he did not pronounce severe enough punishment.
“You stole this from a nobleman?” Gully asked the thief again.
“He did,” answered veWarrnest, who Gully knew was enjoying this a little too much, despite the sincere and serious face he presented to the court.
“I directed the question to the accused, Strafe,” said Gully flatly.
The thief looked up nervously. “Yeh Majesty, my sister... she be not well. Don’t have enough t’ feed us and t’ pay the healers, too. I earn whats much as I can by yeh honest labors, but after the taxes be taken, there is not enough left.” Tears formed in the poor thief’s eyes and he mumbled, “But yes, I did, Yeh Highness.”
Gully watched the man closely, looking for any tells on the man’s face that would indicate he was lying. He did not see any, but it was possible the man was a very accomplished liar as well as a thief. Given that he was caught still in possession of the vest so easily, a mistake Gully would never have made, he was inclined to think the man was telling the truth. This man was not a professional thief — he was merely desperate.
“To whom did the vest belong?” asked Gully.
“Why, me, Your Highness,” said veWarrnest smugly.
“Ah, of course it did. But the vest and the stolen money in it were recovered.”
“Well, yes.” veWarrnest was less smug now. The nobleman began to say something else, but Gully held his hand up to silence him.
“But the crime was committed nonetheless. Yes, I know, Strafe,” said Gully. He addressed the thief directly, “You... you are to work for Strafe veWarrnest until you have worked off twice the value of the vest and coins you attempted to steal.”
veWarrnest began to protest, “Sire! That is hardly a punishment that befits the severity of a crime against a noble—”
“Fine, then... three times the value of the vest and coins,” said Gully, interrupting veWarrnest.
“Even that—” began Strafe.
“Perhaps it would be more satisfactory, Strafe,” snapped Gully hotly, “if I made this man your personal valet, bound to your side, every moment, waking or not, until the day he died. Would that be punishment enough for him? Would that perchance be more to your liking?”
Strafe’s mouth twisted almost into a snarl at the veiled insult, but he bowed his head. “No, Your Highness.”
“Then we are all agreed,” said Gully. He resolved to find out exactly when Strafe would be returning to his home city of Lonness and then he would have a great feast the day after that.
As the thief was led out, relieved that he would not be hanging in the Bonedown after all, Gully motioned to the Archbishop to approach him.
He whispered to him, “Nellist, find out whom that man’s sister is. If she truly is sick, and I expect that she probably is, I will give an extra contribution to the church. I ask that you make sure that, as a charitable work, the church helps take care of her and sees to her illness, please.”
Nellist nodded with a smile and said, “Certainly, Your Highness.”
“And Nellist,” said Gully as the Archbishop had turned to step back down off the dais, “these two things are completely unrelated to one another, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Nellist chuckled and said, “Quite, Your Majesty!”
~~~~~
The royal orchards occupied a walled section of the city to the immediate north of the Folly. They had started out as one of the original farms when the entire village of Lohrdanwuld resided up on the promontory itself. When the city spread and moved out below, this one section of original farmland was kept, walled in, and became a garden for the use of the royal family. It held vegetable gardens of carrots and radishes and greens, and apple and pear and plum trees, and flower-lined walkways.
Gully had, of course, been in it before. He had even stolen fruit from it on occasion. Unlike those times, this was his first visit to it where all of it legitimately belonged to him.
Gully had wondered if Thaybrill would be willing to accompany him and the patriarch as they strolled through the meandering pathways when he had asked. He had thought that, perhaps, Thaybrill’s abduction would have left a scar that would make him want to avoid the gardens. When he had asked Thaybrill if he would come, Thaybrill had agreed without a second thought. Gully had asked if he had any misgivings about the orchard after what had happened there, and Thaybrill’s response had been that, as long as Gully had his throwing knife with him, what fear of the orchard should he continue to harbor?
It amused Gully that Thaybrill seemed more comforted by the presence of a knife in his boot than in the two wolves that insisted on following along with them, almost overcoming the shadow over his mood for a few seconds.
The three of them had sat on a few benches beneath the plum trees. Wyael had run off through the trees exploring and pretending to be a panther like Aalehvan. He chased after Gallun and Gellen, snarling and gnashing his teeth, while the wolves pretended to be terrified, their tails between their legs.
Throughout their walk to and amongst the gardens, Gully had been more silent than usual. His reticence was enough that Thaybrill finally asked, “My brother, what is it that must be on your mind? You’ve barely spoken while we’ve walked.”
Gully nodded weakly and offered no explanation. As glad as he was to have Thaybrill, the patriarch, Gallun and Gellen, and Wyael with him, he wished Roald had come along as well. The men with him were comforting, but not quite like Roald had always been for him.
Thaybrill watched, hoping for something of more substance than a shrug from his brother, but received nothing else.
“Prince Thaybrill, your brother is bothered by what happened in court today, if I guess correctly,” explained the patriarch, after a moment of the king’s continued silence. He added, “Even though he should not be.”
Thaybrill seemed confused. “I do not understand. By what happened in court today? It seemed to me that everything went smoothly
. Gully, you’re handling it like you’ve been doing it for years now. You should be pleased!”
Gully shrugged and said nothing.
The patriarch said to him, “Strafe is playing his hand very openly, Highness, as you’re well aware. He shows no subtlety of art. You should not concern yourself with him.” He added for Thaybrill’s benefit, “He is worried by the maneuverings of veWarrnest.”
“Yes, he is,” said Gully, finally joining the conversation since the patriarch had gotten to the heart of it. “But, as a result of today, I gave him the knife with which now to stab me in the back. I showed weakness with the thief, especially one that acted against a nobleman. In front of all, I’ve shown with whom I stand, and now is when veWarrnest will begin the subtle, hushed campaign against me. I side more with thieves and peasants, and the noble families be damned. At least, that will be the gist of his venom.”
Gully had grown more animated as he explained it. “And on top of that, I sit on a throne and proclaim guilt and decree punishments on someone who is guilty of crimes less than I, myself, have openly admitted to. Who am I to sit in judgment of a man who acted poorly when fate left him few other options? veWarrnest, maybe others, will be less kind in their assessment. He will ask the other nobles, who else will suffer because of the king’s arbitrary application of justice? What other crimes against the nobility will this king overlook because he sides with the peasantry and refuses to face his own crimes?”
“The worst of it is that I feel that, when Strafe begins his murmured accusations, he will have a valid point,” said Gully with a sigh.
“This is preposterous!” exclaimed Thaybrill. “You are not subject to his standard of right and wrong. You are king, not him!”