Fields of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  “That’s just stupid.”

  “Stupid, certainly. But it’s what we demanded of the Renshai. And it resulted in the unnecessary death of a good woman.”

  “You mean the Renshai’s champion?”

  “I do.” Kedrin saw no need to remind the king that the woman they discussed had been his in-law daughter, Kevral.

  The king pointed out the obvious. “But it was a fight to the death. Someone was going to die: if not the Renshai champion, then the Northmen’s.”

  “Agreed.” Kedrin dropped that particular argument; it was not, ultimately, germaine. “We went along with the Northmen’s argument that a fight between their best man and the Renshai’s was not a fair one because the Renshai man was more competent.”

  “True,” King Humfreet said carefully, clearly anticipating a trap.

  “Yet, isn’t that the whole point of training? Of experience? Of battle? The side with the most competent warriors, with the shrewdest generals, sometimes only with the largest numbers wins?”

  King Humfreet was the one who delivered a coup de grace first. “But wars aren’t fair. They can’t be.”

  Unwittingly, delivering that line also proved Kedrin’s point. “Because fairness is not the end all and be all. It does not, in and of itself, define morality.” It was a profound and complicated lesson Kedrin had not considered until that moment, and the realization frightened him. Knights were supposed to be the ultimate authority on world ethics. How horrible, how dangerous that it had taken him this long to learn what suddenly seemed like a difficult, but basic, lesson. “In war, when the side of right wins, it’s not because they are righteous. It is solely because they have the best-trained army or the most experience or the wisest strategy.”

  The king clearly also realized the significance of the revelation. “What are you saying, Kedrin? It’s all right to treat people unfairly, so long as the end result is . . . righteous?”

  Kedrin did not like the king’s summation. “Your Majesty, I believe I’m saying that we need to be more careful how we define and apply the concept of fairness lest we risk punishing practice, work, success, and achievement.” Once started, he would not stop until his thoughts solidified for both of them. “I’m saying the race should more often be won by the swiftest, the contest by the wisest, the debate by the most educated. When consenting humans are pitted against one another, our job is to assure the rules apply to both sides, that the terrain or equipment is reasonably equal but not to handicap the individual contestants, whether their skills arise from natural wits or athleticism, repetition, preparedness, or strength of will. The gods, in their infinite wisdom chose to bless each of us with brawn or cleverness, looks or speed, artistic skills or lightning reflexes. What we do with these god-given gifts is up to each of us, but no one should be punished for being competent, whether it stems from natural talents, hard work, or a combination of both.”

  King Humfreet blew air through his lips. “Kedrin, I . . . understand what you’re saying. I just don’t see how it applies to Renshai. Or . . .” He spat out the name as if it burned his tongue. “Weile Kahn.”

  Kedrin knew he no longer had time for deep consideration. By now, he suspected, the men in the courtroom were growing restless. “Until the challenge against the Renshai by the united Northlands, we had never considered it necessary to weigh the relative skill levels of opponents prior to a duel. And, until the Renshai versus Paradisians conflict, we never treated a group of people without a country as if they were a sovereign entity.”

  King Humfreet interrupted, “Now, wait a moment. The only reason the Paradisians don’t have a country is because the Renshai took it from them.”

  Kedrin was no longer wholly certain that was true. Until Weile Kahn stated otherwise, he had accepted the Northlands insistence, and their documentation, because it came from royal sources. Kedrin still had not personally uncovered any independent evidence that the Fields of Wrath had ever borne the name Paradisian Plains, and Weile’s confident assertion that such validation did not exist was making him suspicious. The Northlands had a longstanding and avowed hatred for Renshai. “Assuming that’s true, Your Majesty . . .”

  “Assuming?” King Humfreet slammed his hands to his hips. “Assuming it’s true. It’s common knowledge.”

  “Information is common,” Kedrin reminded, “only because it’s oft repeated. That does not, by definition, make it truth.” Seeing no need to argue this particular point, Kedrin hurried on, “But even if it’s true, Your Majesty, it’s a bad precedent to set. Because if we decree that conquered lands are equally owned by conquered and conquerer, that having once lived on a piece of land gives descendants full right to return to it even decades or centuries later, fairness dictates that you must share Erythane Castle with Weile Kahn and his . . .” Kedrin tried to recall the name Weile Kahn had taken, “. . . Harkonians.”

  “What?” Same word, less emphatically.

  Kedrin continued, “In addition, as we have limited the Renshai to proportionate responses, fairness dictates we respond to attacks in kind. So, if these Harkonians hit us with sticks and fists, we cannot bring arms to bear.”

  King Humfreet’s entire body seemed to vibrate, and Kedrin thought he might explode. The captain of the Knights of Erythane took an involuntary backward step. But when the king finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost perplexed. “Knight-Captain Kedrin, I’ve trusted your judgment for decades. I know you to be a moral man, highly intelligent and principled almost to a fault. Surely, you’re not advising us to welcome a band of criminals permanently into Castle Erythane.”

  Kedrin managed a smile despite the burdens crushing down on him. In addition to his king’s wrath, he was facing a crisis of conscience simultaneous with the real life drama still unfolding in the courtroom. “No, Your Majesty. I’m advising just the opposite. I’m advising we vacate all arrests pertaining to the ongoing dispute between the Renshai and the Paradisians. Only then, we can try to negotiate a peaceful solution to the ongoing problem of two peoples claiming the same piece of land.”

  King Humfreet stroked his beard, sighed deeply, then lowered his head in apparent defeat. “It’s just as well. King Griff is still convinced we’re about to face another massive war, and he’s reminded me we might well have lost the previous one without . . . certain Renshai. Griff would never interfere with Erythanian politics, but I know he’s sure we’ll need them in the upcoming conflict.” He sighed again. “But it’s not that easy, Kedrin. There are other things to consider. We also need the Northmen, both as soldiers and for their ore; and they support the Paradisians. The Renshai may be better soldiers, but the sheer number of Northmen makes them far more necessary.”

  Kedrin nodded. Morality, not politics, was his priority and his area of expertise. Unfortunately, clear-cut lines did not exist in reality, and he had to work each one within the constraints of the other.

  “And is setting the stage for negotiations going to appease . . .” King Humfreet jerked a thumb toward the passageway into the court.

  Kedrin had no idea how far Weile Kahn would push, but just the fact that the Easterner had confronted many kings and survived suggested he knew where to draw lines. He might fan a spark into a campfire, but he was wise enough to stop before it became a conflagration. Conversely, the Paradisians did not seem to know when to prod and when to retreat. They relied upon the law, the knighthood, and the Northerners to protect them. Left wholly to their own devices, the Paradisians would provoke the Renshai until every Paradisian lost his or her life. Long before that happened, however, Kedrin felt certain every Renshai enemy would find a way to support the Paradisians, directly or indirectly, against the Renshai, dragging more countries, more rulers, and more civilians into the fray. “We need to negotiate with the understanding that, in this circumstance, peace is not a possibility.”

  “It’s not?”

  Kedrin shook his head but di
d not explain further.

  “What if we designated half the land to each of them? And built a sturdy fence between them?”

  Kedrin’s head shake grew faster as several realizations came to light at once. He could scarcely believe he had not seen the plot earlier, had not previously realized the devious complexity of what had once seemed so simple. “It won’t work, Your Majesty. This is not a dispute over land.”

  “Not a . . .” The king trailed off, his head cocked, eyes narrowed. He seemed to be trying to read Kedrin’s mind. When that failed, he asked, “What do you mean it’s not a dispute over land? Never has any conflict been more obviously a dispute over land.” He added cautiously, “Has it?”

  Kedrin knew they had to return to the courtroom now. He had stayed away too long already and did not want Weile Kahn concerned that they were plotting a way to entrap him. That might force his hand against Erythane’s guards and soldiers. “Your Majesty, it would take too long to explain. Do you trust me?”

  To Kedrin’s relief, Humfreet never wavered. “More than anyone else in the world.”

  “Then please, Your Majesty, either come with me now and talk to Weile Kahn or grant me the authority to bargain for you.” Kedrin looked up, worried he had crossed another line himself.

  Humfreet hesitated while Kedrin held his breath. That the king did not immediately dismiss the matter brought hope. “You’re sure it’s safe.”

  Kedrin would not lie. “I don’t believe Weile Kahn is foolish enough to harm you.” He added with the utmost caution, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not remind the king of his previous error. “So long as no one threatens him.”

  Humfreet took another long breath, releasing it in what seemed like his hundredth sigh since Weile Kahn had entered the courtroom. “You’re sure we can handle this man?”

  Kedrin was not, but one thing seemed certain. “Your Majesty, I’m not sure anyone can. But I truly believe we’re more likely than anyone outside of Asgard to succeed.”

  “Very well,” King Humfreet said. “And let us hope the gods are with us.”

  My people have obligations to the kingdom, but I have at least as many obligations to them. Not the least of those is protecting them from injustice, not just as a group, but as individuals. I cannot abandon that obligation, even facing the threat of war.

  —King Griff of Béarn

  THE MAP-COVERED, windowless walls of Béarn’s Strategy Room, and its single long table still impressed Saviar Ra-khirsson, who had come here only once before, to discuss the Northmen’s initial proposition. At that time, they had agreed to aid Béarn in the war, and to supply the necessary iron ore, but only if Griff agreed to dismiss the Renshai from battle.

  As always, the head seat was occupied by the high king of the Westlands, Griff, the one to his right by his adviser, Darris, and the one to his left by Prime Minister Davian. King Humfreet of Erythane took a place at the farthest end, currently referred to as the second head in deference to his title.

  Knight-Captain Kedrin sat at King Humfreet’s right hand, always pristine in his uniform. His hat, politely removed after a magnificent bow, perched jauntily on the back of his chair. Saviar sat along the far side of the table, his back near the wall. The Renshai’s official representative, Thialnir Thrudazisson, had passed the mantle of leadership to Saviar for this particular negotiation and had chosen not to attend.

  Béarn’s minister of local affairs, tiny Chaveeshia, sat to Humfreet’s left. It was her job to shepherd and represent visiting neighboring allies, usually Kedrin and Thialnir but, this day more importantly, the king of Erythane. Both Thialnir and Weile had requested Saviar, the former as his replacement-in-training and the latter for reasons all his own. The Easterner sat beside Saviar, his two bodyguards so quiet and unobtrusive behind him that Saviar kept forgetting they were present. Guard Captain Seiryn stood attentively behind King Griff. As always, a page crouched on the floor in the corner, recording every word for posterity.

  The door opened to admit the remaining representatives invited to the gathering. Minister of Foreign Affairs, Richar, guided two Northmen and a ragged Erythanian into the room. Saviar knew one of the Northmen, Erik, an avowed hater of Renshai. Saviar had befriended Erik’s son, Verdondi, a relationship that had lasted only as long as his ignorance of Saviar’s heritage. The other Northman, and the Erythanian, were strangers.

  Richar bowed to his king, then introduced his guests. “Erik Leifsson, Captain of the Sea Dragon and highest ranking Northman currently in Béarn.” The man Saviar knew bowed to each king in turn, glared at Saviar, then took one of the three seats on the opposite side of the table from Saviar and as far from the Renshai as possible. He resembled Thialnir in many respects, though at least a decade younger: large-boned and -framed, broad-faced and wearing multiple braids in his golden hair.

  Richar continued, “Geirrodr of the Gelshni tribe, Captain of the Silver Serpent, second highest ranking Northman in Béarn.” Also a large man, Geirrodr repeated the same motions as his companion before taking his seat. Richar waited until both Northmen settled into chairs before making the last introduction: “And Perry Arner’s son of the Paradisians.” The Erythanian bowed low and awkwardly, clearly unaccustomed to royalty. He had a long, narrow face, smeared with dirt, a haphazardly shaven chin, and wore homespun with several obvious holes. His sandy hair was brushed to a sheen, and he kept flicking at it and missing, as if accustomed to it being longer and dangling in his face.

  Richar waited until Perry sat between the Northmen before performing his own well-rehearsed gestures of respect. No chairs remained, so he stood behind his charges as the bodyguards did, though he frowned at what he probably saw as an outrage. Custom dictated that he have a seat at the table, but those higher ranking than him had no reason to move and those lower, including Saviar, chose not to.

  At a gesture from King Griff, Knight-Captain Kedrin recited the age-old formalities that preceded such a meeting, long-winded details that seemed to bore every other person in the room. Saviar had never attended a session that did not include a knight, but he suspected the simple king would prefer to forgo this procedure and probably did so whenever he could. At last, Kedrin finished and King Griff took over. “Friends and colleagues, as you know, we have gathered here to barter peace between two groups of people, the Renshai and the Paradisians, as well as to decide the disposition of a disputed piece of land known by most recent decree as the Fields of Wrath.”

  Most of the faces in the room remained neutral throughout the recitation, aside from the Northmen who frowned deeply at the names “Renshai” and “Fields of Wrath.”

  No one interrupted the king’s description of purpose; however, the moment he finished speaking, Erik impatiently gestured for the floor. The king yielded it to him. “So long as there are Renshai involved, there can never be peace.”

  The insult grated on Saviar, but he schooled his features. His time with Ra-khir and Kedrin had made him patient, and he knew Weile Kahn had a reason for convincing Saviar to come in his leader’s place. Thialnir would have pounded the table and spat out an angry retort to the Northman’s challenge. He was strong and dangerous, always speaking his mind with direct and forceful honesty; but, for once, the Renshai would win this negotiation with guile or not at all.

  King Griff encouraged Saviar. “Do the Renshai have a response to that?”

  Saviar looked at the king of Béarn as if he were the only man in the room. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid Erik’s right. So long as there are Renshai involved, there can never be peace.” Saviar could feel every eye on him, and it made him want to squirm. He resisted the urge, however, and looked serenely back at every curious face.

  Griff encouraged, as Saviar knew he would. “Would you like to further explain yourself, Saviar Ra-khirsson?” Though phrased as a question, everyone in the room, with the possible exception of Perry, knew it was a gentle command.

 
; Saviar obliged, “The enemies of the Renshai are many and powerful, in some cases united only by their hatred. Despising Renshai has become the focus of their lives, their children’s only education, their very religion. It’s not enough for them to torment us; they will never rest until we are all killed. It is because of these enemies that anything involving Renshai will always be violent. They will always attack us, and we will always defend ourselves from their attacks.”

  It was Erik who pounded the table in Thialnir’s absence. “Lies and nonsense! It is the Renshai whose lives revolve around hatred and violence; they dedicate every moment to their swords and love nothing else. The enemies of the Renshai come by their enmity honestly, through having been slaughtered, their lands occupied, their children threatened.”

  Perry said nothing but bobbed his head vigorously.

  Weile pointed out calmly, “It is the Paradisians who are hurling rocks.”

  Erik turned on Weile Kahn. “Of course they’re hurling rocks! What would you do if vermin flooded into your homeland and demanded you tolerate their presences? Live by their rules?”

  Saviar tried not to smile. He had experienced enough of Weile’s tactics to know he would have an answer.

  The Easterner did not disappoint. “I would do what any sensible person would do. I would exterminate those vermin with tools created to perform the task. I would do exactly what the Renshai haven’t done . . . but should have.”

  “Exactly my point!” Erik crowed. “You exterminate . . .” Only then, he realized Weile Kahn had reflected the argument backward. “. . . the vermin.”

  Geirrodr stepped in to help. “The Renshai being the vermin in question. Not the Paradisians.”

  King Griff grabbed back his authority. “Except here we’re dealing with human beings on both sides, not rats and mice. In order to broker a peace, it’s inherent that both sides acknowledge the other’s humanity, their right to exist as people.”