The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse)

by Andrew Ashling

  There followed many other questions, mostly about minor details of the proposal, which were answered by Tomar. The more questions were asked, the more it became clear that the representatives of the people weren't questioning the tribute itself anymore, but the finer points of its implementation. The principle of it seemed to have been accepted.

  After the last intervention, Uppam Fraleck stood up again and looked at his colleagues. Then he turned to Anaxantis.

  “I think your highness has made an exhaustively argued and impressive case, so without further ado, I will put the proposal to the vote.”

  With that he turned around to face his colleague representatives.

  “All those in favor, please raise your hand.”

  The lord mayor of Dermolhea had done his work of preparing the representatives very thoroughly, and almost to a man they raised their arms.

  “I'm happy to report, your highness, that the ayes have it as far as your loyal free communities are concerned.”

  Before he had good and well sat down, one of the nobles at the other side of the aisle had stood up.

  “That is all very well for the commoners, your highness, but I fail to see what we, the nobility, have to gain from this proposal.”

  Anaxantis turned slowly towards the speaker and raised his eyebrows.

  “Does your grace mean to say that in some miraculous way the duchy of Yondar is spared from crime and poverty?”

  “No, of course not, your highness, but we have our ways to—”

  “Well then,” Anaxantis interrupted him, “there you have your answer. But, more importantly, your grace seems to forget that it is the obligation of the nobility to assist in the defense of the realm. In fact, the law of the land clearly states that it is your sacred duty to answer the call for help of the king in person with as many men as your demesne can muster. What goes for the king, goes for his representative. Which happens to be me.”

  He stood up and looked down the rows of nobles, before fixating the duke of Yondar again.

  “I will exempt every noble House from that duty, on condition that my proposal is accepted. Furthermore, those of you who have more adult sons than they know what to do with, should consider sending them to the Militia. I assure you that, upon proven ability, they will be given a commission as officer.”

  He let his words sink in for a few moments.

  “Of course, my lords, the decision is completely yours. However, should you choose to vote down my entirely reasonable, fair and even moderate proposal, you leave me no other choice than to enforce the law. Don't believe for one second that because my predecessors never have done so, that I will not either. On the contrary, I will see it as my duty to visit each and every demesne in person, accompanied by my personal guard.”

  He took a step forward.

  “I assure you”, he resumed, “that I will see to it that you all, to the last man, will fulfill your duty as nobles to the full extend. To be honest, there is much to be said for that alternative.”

  He looked the duke of Yondar in the eyes.

  “I will count it an honor, and indeed I look forward to, fighting the Mukthars in the first ranks beside your grace,” he bit at the surprised duke.

  He took another step forward, which brought him side by side with Arranulf. Then he crossed his arms.

  A deafening silence descended upon the banks of the nobility as they stared as a man at the lord governor and Arranulf, duke of Landemere, in his uniform of page of the prince. The young duke turned red as a beet under their stares, while he realized just why Anaxantis had placed him there. The nobles saw in their mind's eyes the lord governor, and lots and lots of those soldiers that stood behind them, arriving at their castles. After the first shock they began to throw each other shifty looks.

  Sir Eckfred of Ramaldah stood up.

  “Your mightiness, If you permit me to say so, I think your proposal is entirely reasonable. Frankly, I can't spare the men. In a few weeks time the ground has to be prepared for sowing and then there's celery to be planted. So I need all my men on the fields and not sitting in some tent at the border. I myself wouldn't mind to fight the barbarians, in fact, I would be proud to do so, certainly side by side with your highly self, were it not that meanwhile the whole of Ramaldah would go to pot. Can't leave things to the peasants, you know. They're good people and they mean well, generally speaking, but they're not too bright. Mind you, one twentieth of the Royal Taxes isn't exactly cat's pee, as we say in Ramaldah, but if I have to leave my demesne when I should be overseeing the planting, that would be a disaster and would cost far, far more. So, for me it's aye.”

  He winked at Obyann, who feigned to not know him, and sat down again.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Anaxantis said. “I'm very pleased to hear that one of the oldest Houses of Amiratha, with an impeccable record of service to the crown, sees it my way.”

  He turned once again to the duke of Yondar, who had been pensively looking at his son who stood a few places to the left of Arranulf.

  “Well, Your Grace, do you begin to see the advantages of my modest proposal, or shall I accompany you back to Yondar.”

  “The further you stay away from my lands, the better,” the duke fumed inside. “The last thing I need is an arrogant royal busybody prying into my affairs.”

  “I think I can see the soundness of your proposal, your highness. The duchy of Yondar has always been a firm buttress to the throne; and certainly in times like these we should each of us bear our share of the burden. If your highness deems it preferable that we should assist him with our treasury, instead of personally with our swords on the field of honor, which I hasten to say our House has done many times in the past, it is not my place to doubt the wisdom of that decision. You can count on my vote.”

  “And the peasants and the villages will have a nasty surprise when, in my turn, I raise their taxes. By the three tails of Zardok, I'm not going to lose a copper sarth over this. It will be no skin of my nose. And as for you, Tanahkos brood, have your money, raise your Militia and ride to a glorious and painful death at the hand of the Mukthars, for all I care.”

  The nobles looked around and saw in each other's eyes what they were thinking already themselves. If great and mighty duchies like Landemere and Yondar had to bow for the will of the young lord governor, young as he was, what chance did they stand? Better not to antagonize the prince and give him his money. So, first hesitatingly, but gradually faster and louder the ayes began to sound from the benches of the Amirathan nobility.

  Anaxantis turned around to hide his satisfied, triumphant smile and, when his face was back to the disinterested, haughty expression he had adopted for the Council, he sat down.

  “I declare the proposal of his highness, the prince and lord governor, duly adopted by the Council of Amiratha,” Tomar intoned.

  A that moment the lord mayor of Dermolhea again took the floor.

  “My lords, my colleagues,” he said, addressing both the nobles and the representatives of the people, “the Amirathan Militia is a fact. A new era in our proud history has dawned, and no longer do we need to rely exclusively on the might of the kingdom for our own defense. It goes without saying that the august person who has had the foresight and the vision to make this come true shall personally take upon himself the command of these, our newly to be formed, troops. In light of this, I put forward the motion that we revive the ancient title by which the commanders in chief of Amiratha used to be known.”

  He turned to Anaxantis.

  “Your highness, permit me to be the first to address you, in name of this Council, by that title.”

  He raised his right arm and made a fist.

  “Hail to the warlord,” he cried.

  Carefully chosen friends of Fraleck who he had judiciously distributed among the representatives, took over the cry.

  “Hail to the warlord,” sounded out of a dozen mouths and soon ever more and more representatives added their voices to the jubilant c
horus. At first only a few of the nobles joined in, but nobody dared risk being the last to remain silent, for fear of being noticed by Tomar, who was studying both sides of the aisle and whose underlings were writing diligently, the Gods may know what.

  Anaxantis stood up once again and let the ever more enthusiastic cries undulate over him with a contented smile. The noise was deafening.

  “Hail to the warlord, hail to the warlord, hail to the warlord.”

  From the back of the room Hemarchidas looked upon the scene.

  “He's happy, thank the Gods, he's happy. Good for you, my friend. Look at the aplomb with which he accepts their adulation. As if it were nothing more than his rightful due. Another day, another title. And this one isn't even remotely ceremonial. This one carries with it the might and main of seven thousand swords. Yes, indeed. Hail to the warlord.”

  Anaxantis and his train left the hall first. Once in the side chamber of the entrance hall, he turned around, unclasped his mantle and gave it to one of his guards for safekeeping. Then he turned to the pages.

  “OK, guys,” he said, “you can all go and spend some time with your fathers. Report back at your lodging by this evening.”

  The boys forgot all ceremony and decorum instantly and scooted away, looking for their sires. Except Arranulf, who stood hesitatingly, not knowing what to do or how to carry himself. His lower lip quivered slightly. When, through the door, he saw Obyann almost disappear in sir Eckfred's bear hug, his eyes became moist.

  “Oh, Arranulf,” Anaxantis, who had seen his distress, said, “I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'm so, so sorry. And after I used you to intimidate the nobles, too.”

  He took the boy in his arms.

  “It's nothing, my lord,” Arranulf said, “I understand. You had to. I know that. I just wished... Should you do this? It seems... it seems not fitting for a warlord.”

  Anaxantis looked at him and laughed.

  “I don't give a damn. Come, you'll stay with me this afternoon. You'll sit beside me at the banquet the lord mayor is giving.”

  He looked in the entrance hall until he saw Tomar and motioned him to come.

  “Don't fear, warlord,” Tomar said smilingly, “the records will show that you were chosen unanimously, by acclamation.”

  “Never mind that,” Anaxantis said. “I want you to prepare an order to the effect that the duchess Athildis and sir Threnn are given leave to write to and receive letters from his grace, the duke. See to it that your scribes have it ready for me to sign and put my seal upon by the end of the banquet. I want it dispatched by special courier, together with the first letter of his grace, as soon as he has written it.”

  He turned to Arranulf.

  “I know it's not the same, but it's the best I can do.”

  “It's plenty, my lord, and more than I dared hope for. You're very magnanimous and I thank you,” Arranulf whispered.

  “Well then, give us a smile and let's go see what the good citizens of Dermolhea are serving us. I for one could eat a horse. Shall we, your grace?”

  Arranulf looked at him through still slightly teary eyes.

  “Didn't you say that pages weren't addressed by their titles?”

  “Ah, yes, but this afternoon your grace is my guest.”

  “In that case, why certainly, your highness, by all means, let's go see what they have prepared for us,” Arranulf smiled.

  “See, that's better. Oh yes, since you're sitting next to me, that means Hemarchidas will have to move over and you will be between us. I hope that will suit you?”

  “That will suit me fine.”

  “And I wouldn't take it amiss if you preferred his conversation to mine.”

  “Yes, thank you... hey, what does your highness mean by that?”

  “I may be many things, your grace, but being blind is not one of them,” Anaxantis said with a barely suppressed grin. “Come, I'll race you to the banquet hall,” he said, laughing, and darted away to the broad marble stairs.

  “Not fair,” Arranulf shouted, running after him.

  Not a few of the representatives and nobles reacted testily when they were jostled by two laughing boys running up the stairs. When some of them saw that one of the rascals bore an uncanny resemblance to the warlord, they shook their head in wonder.

  “Should I intervene now or give him some more rope to hang himself with?” the high king pondered.

  He squinted his eyes, cursing them for getting weaker, and read the two small pieces of parchment again.

  “Poor Dem, he was left to rot in Lorseth while my youngest ignored him completely and went to mold the whole of Amiratha to his hand. All he can report is hearsay. Now, the other one has a lot more interesting facts to report. So, he threatened to call the nobility under arms, unless they voted him his money. That was dangerous, my son. Your grandfather and I have done everything possible to dismantle the military might and traditions of the old nobility, and you almost reinstated them. Our policies seem to have worked though, as they apparently preferred to fork over the money instead of taking the field. Still... it was a dangerous gamble. I wonder if you knew all this and whether it was part of your calculations. Equally surprising is that you seem to have made a covenant with the commoners, or at least with some of them, and used them against the nobility. Now that is a clever ploy, though a complex balancing exercise. And again, only a few people knew what you were planning beforehand, and I doubt you told even them everything. More likely you told each of them just enough to execute your orders and gave none of them the complete picture.”

  He rubbed his eyes, wondering if it wasn't time to take his youngest son into his confidence and treat him on par with his brothers, Tenaxos the younger and Portonas.

  “Maybe not just yet. Neither will I intervene. The spectacle is too fascinating and I want to see what your next move will be. However, I know already that you've got talent. But you are still very young and your old father might still be able to teach you a trick or two. Which I will do after all this is over. Tenaxos and Portonas will have to lump it.”

  “Meanwhile, carry on. Refine your plans. Cast your nets wider. Build up your military strength. The more power you accumulate, the greater your devastation will be when I take it all away, warlord.”

  “I know, Mandigaill, who they call the Hunter, this was not the story you expected, was it? This was not how it was supposed to go...”

  ...

  “What about Anaxantis the Merciful, you ask? Anaxantis the Wise? Anaxantis, Shield of Amiratha? Anaxantis the Conqueror? Anaxantis the Lion and Anaxantis the Great? We'll come to those too. But you can't have them without this one and a few others, Friend of Wolves.”

  ...

  “And who are you to say? Have you ever been raped? It certainly was not among the secrets with which you paid me. No? So, how do you know? How do you know that the damage stops with the vile act itself? How do you know that it isn't a contamination, a festering disease that eats at your mind and soul? Do you revile the cripple for not being able to walk and pity the brute who broke his legs? Do you reproach him to cruelly flaunt his deformity in the face of the one who caused his condition, thus tormenting him? You know not of what you speak so inconsiderately, yet with such unfounded assurance.”

  ...

  “Don't forget I could see you, Hunter. You may wish to deny it, but some part of you was enticed by the power for power's sake. By the thrill of having absolute control over another human being. I could see the effect it had on you. You felt the allurement. So spare me your overbearing, but pointless protestations.”

  ...

  “Complete? Yes, I can see how you would think that. Yes, it would seem that his victory was complete. Hadn't he arrived in the north, a scrawny, friendless, powerless boy, adorned with an empty title, at the mercy of his older brother? At best a pawn in the cruel game that was the struggle for the Devil's Crown?”

  ...

  “Yes, yes he did. In fact, he turned the tables on all of them,
but indeed, first and foremost on his brother, his aggressor and his lover.”

  ...

  “No, because he knew all too well how temporary his triumph was, how limited its scope. And after all, what had he gained? The privilege of standing in the first ranks against a wild horde of savages. The attention of his older brothers, who now saw a clear and present danger in his continued existence. The weary distrust of the old lion, his father, the high king. The wrath of the conniving crones of the Order of the Great Goddess.”

  ...

  “Sure, he had friends he could count on, but he realized all the same how narrow his power base was. How scant his resources, compared to that of the kingdom of Ximerion. How precarious his authority, resting as it did on the goodwill and trust of relatively few people, the wavering loyalty of an army not completely under his control, and the fickle support of the people.”

  ...

  “That, the future would reveal. As for how and why? Not by force alone, that's for sure, but by cunning, by his wits. By calculation. By thinking three, four, five and more steps ahead. By considering all possible permutations. And also by knowing when to use force, and precisely how much of it, ruthlessly and decisively. But mainly by being Anaxantis.”

  ...

  “You ask what can not be answered, Mandigaill. Not easily, anyway. There is that undefinable quality in leaders. It reveals itself when the hour calls upon them. For some that may be late in life, when everybody thinks their life has already been lived. Others have to cheat nature and grow up faster than she intended. Tenaxos was right in that respect, though he didn't foresee just how right.”

  ...

  “Oh yes, his triumph was resounding. It made waves in the whole kingdom and far beyond its borders. It had drawn attention to him. Where before he had been just another princeling, now not a few began to see him as dangerous. And they all started moving against him at the same time. To complicate matters, he knew that even his immediate circle was not impermeable. Also, he was aware of his own weaknesses. It made him doubt. Sometimes it made him waver. Even despair was no stranger to him, as we shall see. Finally, there was his love, who was also his hate. It made him confused and afraid. Afraid he would lose his sanity. Afraid that eventually he would fall prey to what he called his monsters. But all that, Wolves' Friend, is for another day, another evening.”