Fixing Forcalquier

by Eamonn Murphy

  They had just passed the church and were about to turn to the right for Mij's home when Orcas said: “Is it far to the Citadel?" Unnecessarily he pointed up the hill.

  "It's not far, but it is steep."

  "Let's go see it," said Orph. Without further ado, he continued in that direction.

  Orcas shrugged. "Let's go see it," he echoed, and with his long strides soon caught up with his friend. Mij trotted a little and drew abreast also.

  "It is impressive," he assured them; "and the view from up by the castle walls is great. You can see the countryside for miles around. The view from the topmost battlements must be incredible."

  Orph was puffing a little from the exertion of the climb, and the heat, and the beer perhaps. "It would certainly...not be...an easy place to storm." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Why, the very horses would roll downhill if you tried to charge up here."

  The road turned and twisted, else the ascent would have been impossible, and the houses and trees en route contrived to conceal any view of the top, so it was not until they came out right next to it that they saw the castle itself.

  It was not particularly large, or particularly high as castles go -Forcalquier was only a small State after all - but, occupying as it did the entire flat top of its rocky knoll, it was particularly daunting to any attacking force. There was no way to see it except that it towered over you, so you felt like a fly on a cliff wall. Orph had to lean backwards and tilt his head to see the topmost battlements and doing so made him dizzy. The road they had mounted brought them out right in front of the main gate, the only conceivable entrance as there were no windows at ground floor level. Even supposing that a besieging force could bring a battering ram up the knoll, and supposing, too, that from its steep sides they could achieve any momentum to charge that sturdy gate, the battlements above were well stocked with heavy rocks and hot oil to deter them further. It was an effective first line of defence.

  Mij told his friends there was a tiny door at the rear of the castle, just big enough to admit one person at a time; no use at all to an invading horde. Proudly he pointed to the turrets: there were four in all, one at each corner of the building, but only two were visible from the front. His satisfaction was self-evident as he watched the visitors surveying it with a soldier's eyes.

  When they seemed to have done with their observations he asked, "So. What do you think?"

  "It's impregnable," said Orcas.

  "Until they invent cannons anyway," said Orph.

  "What are cannons?" Mij noticed that Orcas gave his partner a reproving look before turning to answer.

  "Nothing; forget it. Be more careful, Orph."

  "How is it inside?" Orph asked Mij quickly. "For defences, I mean. Is it just these walls?"

  "No. On three sides, including this one, there's a narrow courtyard behind this wall and then another wall just as steep. If you find yourself in there you can be attacked from both sides with stones, arrows and boiling oil. The fourth side, the back, is so steep that this extra defence isn't needed."

  "Without getting in we can't see much more," said Orcas.

  "You said there is a back door. Is there a road to it from the other side of the hill?"

  "A narrow path," Mij replied; "and it's very very, steep. But this path we're on goes right around the castle; you can be seen all the way from the battlements, of course, and attacked if you're an enemy."

  "Hmmm," said the tall man meditatively. Then he clapped Mij on the shoulder: "I think, on the whole, your Count is quite safe. Shall we descend? My belly is rumbling a little. Let's go see what your Uncle has prepared for us."

  #

  Uncle Wade had prepared a feast. Platters filled with all manner of meat and vegetables filled the centre of the table, giving off rich, tempting odours. The four sat down cosily a little later, Orph and Orcas opposite the two relatives, and slowly, carefully, with the relaxed reverence that it deserved, began to make the good food disappear. Good wine accompanied it; not so good to overrefined palates perhaps, but fruity, robust and red. It certainly suited Orph who downed it with gusto.

  Wade asked about the parade and Mij told him a few details, including the dragon story, but it was a disjointed conversation. In general, the silence was filled with contented chewing. Mij and his Uncle had been on beggars rations for too long - any time at all is too long for that diet - while Orph and Orcas had the vigorous appetites of travellers. They did not dispose of all that was set before them, that would have been simple gluttony, but there were four well-filled bellies in that room by the time the summer sun sank close to the western rooftops of Forcalquier. Replete they leaned back in their chairs. Wade picked up the jug and held it out.

  "More wine, Orph? Orcas?"

  Orcas shook his head; Orph said, "Just a wee dram. A little bit, I mean."

  Mij looked at him curiously. "You use strange words sometimes, Orph."

  "Expressions picked up here and there, lad. I'm a well-travelled man."

  "And why, if I may be so bold sirs," asked Wade, "have you come here, to Forcalquier?"

  Orph looked at his friend and there was obviously some doubt about what to say in response.

  "You are not just travelling idly, I think. You have an air of purpose about you as if you came here for a reason."

  There was a rather uncomfortable silence. Wade, ill at ease with the change in atmosphere his question had brought about waved a hand to dismiss the matter, attempting to restore a more convivial air to the meal.

  "Forget it, and forgive me," he said. "It's absolutely none of my business. We are indebted to you for this good repast and I repay you by prying like an old woman. I sincerely apologise."

  "Perhaps you can help us," said Orcas; "for you are correct in assuming that we have a mission. However, concerning certain details, we will have to be circumspect. There are some things," - he hesitated - "things it is not good for you, or anyone here, to know."

  "About cannons, for instance." Mij was bold, perhaps because of the small portion of wine he had been allowed. At this remark Orcas once again gave his friend a baleful look.

  "For instance, yes," he growled.

  Wade was baffled by this exchange so he took the conversation back on its original course. "Are you looking for something? Or someone?"

  Orcas spoke slowly in reply, choosing his words with care.

  "We are looking for a man from .....another place, who does not belong here; because he doesn't belong he is..." He hesitated for a moment then said decisively, "He has to leave."

  "Where did he come from?" Mij asked.

  "Another place. That's all I can say."

  "What sort of place?" It was Wade who put this question.

  "Ah, well. Orph has been there and is a lot more familiar with it than I. What sort of place is it, Orph?"

  "It's a very different society to this one in many ways," said Orph, "yet in many ways, it's the same. Men are men, after all, wherever they find themselves, and their basic concerns are the same: to feed themselves and their families; to clothe themselves and their families; to enjoy themselves now and again." He raised his wine cup in a sort of salute as if to demonstrate the pleasures of life. "However, in this...other place, they're a bit obsessed with money. Money is the measure of all things. The rich are society's heroes, the people to emulate. If you have money, no matter how you got it, you're respected and envied."

  "Well money is useful stuff," growled Wade pragmatically. It was a lesson he had well learned in the past few weeks. "If a man's worked hard and acquired a bit of gold, good luck to him, I say!" He nodded his head vigorously, agreeing with himself, then drank a gulp of wine.

  "We all know money is necessary," agreed Orph, "but it shouldn't become an obsession. And some people have fortunes because they get others to work for them; fortunes no man could acquire by his own labours. Hundreds work for sustenance alone and the man at th
e top gets all the gravy; a good system if you happen to be at the top, not so good if you're on the bottom."

  "It sounds like Baron Phiord's method," said Mij glumly

  "Phiord?" said Orcas. "You mentioned him before."

  "Aye, Phiord." Wade's face twisted with displeasure at the name. Restlessly he rose and strode over to the fireplace, stood looking into its dark hole.

  "A sore subject evidently," Orcas remarked.

  Wade turned to face the room, his hands clasped behind his back and a grim look on his rugged features. "It's the Phiord Shoe Fac-tory" - he pronounced the unfamiliar word with care - "that's been the ruin of us cobblers."

  Orcas looked at Orph, who said: "He could be the man we're looking for. Is he new to the city?"

  "Good Lord No!" Wade shook his head with the same energy he used for nodding it, causing Orph to wonder if he ever hurt his neck. "Been here all his life. Not in the town exactly, because his lands are outside it, but in the state of Forcalquier. He's the son of the previous Baron Phiord, and his family's been here for generations."

  Orph sighed: "Well, it sounded promising for a moment. Back to square one."

  "Wait a moment," said Orcas. He turned to Wade: "Phiord hasn't always had the shoe factory obviously."

  "Oh no." That great, bull neck worked in the negative once again. "He built that just a few months ago. Previously he was content to farm his lands like all the other Lords, and he was a decent enough master by all accounts too."

  "Ah!" Orph was interested again. "Do you know why the good Baron suddenly decided to go into shoe-making? And, for that matter, how he did it? Who makes the shoes for him if it isn't you cobblers?"

  The boy answered: "He built the factory on the advice of his new clerk; an odd man, they say, who was found trespassing on Phiord's hunting grounds in the forest. That was just before the stories of dragons started, or maybe about the same time."

  "That makes sense," Orcas said. He thumped the palm of his left hand with the fist of his right. "It all makes sense!"

  "Who makes the shoes?" asked Orph. "And how?"

  "How we don't know exactly," Wade answered; "though we do know that a treacherous cobbler taught them the techniques, and we know which cobbler too." His eyes darkened and he looked angry as he spoke of one who had sold the trade secrets of the Cobblers Guild. "As to who does the work, it's Phiord's own serfs and young farmers from the surrounding area; Freemen lured to Phiord's by the promise of cash wages. When he built the factory he spread the word around that he needed workers. I suppose young men are always ready for a change so they came."

  "That's right," said Orcas thoughtfully. "The farmer who told us about the dragon mentioned that his youngest son was making shoes. He didn't like the idea."

  "No," said Wade, "because in a few weeks it's harvest time and they'll need every man to get the crops in. Some of the families are short-handed even for the usual work because of the manufactory, and with the harvest as well..." He shrugged.

  Orph slapped the table viciously. "This man has created an urban proletariat in the Middle Ages, five centuries too soon!"

  He stopped, abashed, as silence followed this angry statement, reproachful from Orcas and mystified from the two natives.

  "What's he done?" asked Mij.

  "He's caused a lot of problems," Orcas interposed smoothly, “and we must try to sort it all out; to get the farmers back to their fields and the cobblers back to their... cobbling." He wasn't sure of the verb but it would suffice.

  "Who's he?" Wade wanted to know.

  "I think he's Baron Phiord's clerk, the man found in the forest. But we'll find that out in due course."

  "At least," Orph said, "we've solved the mystery of the beggars with the beautiful shoes."

  Wade laughed. "It does look odd, doesn't it? Thin, ragged men with lovely shiny shoes and boots; but we have them to spare, you see, for we cannot sell them at a price which is worthwhile. Phiord produces shoes more cheaply with his fac-tory and we simply can't compete. Who will pay six denarii for a pair of boots when he can buy them for three? I have a cupboard full of shoes but, until today, no food. Madness!"

  Mij said: "Phiord's scribe is slowly buying all the shoes in Forcalquier."

  "How's that?" said Orph. "What do you mean?"

  All eyes turned to the youth and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I saw him yesterday at cobbler Leon's workshop, and overheard the conversation."

  A cough and a stern look from the direction of the fireplace made him turn apologetically to his guardian.

  "I wasn't spying, Uncle," he protested. "I was sat across the road from Leon's workshop, begging. I saw the clerk go in the front door and..." He stopped; blushed. "I cocked an ear. But I was there by chance, not to spy."

  "Curiosity is one of my own vices," said Orph, "and information is always useful. Go on, lad."

  Mij looked at his Uncle who waved for him to continue. "I won't blame you for watching that devilish clerk, Mij; not in our present situation."

  Given this blessing, the boy resumed: "The clerk wanted to buy all Leon's stock, quite a bit, I can tell you. Times are bad for us, God knows, but poor old Leon has a wife and four children to feed. He must have money. The clerk offered" - here the boy's face went grim - "one denarius per pair." He thumped the table angrily and turned to look at his Uncle. "It wasn't fair. It was..."

  "It was the merciless workings of the free market," said Orph. "That's the system the clerk is used to."

  "Merciless it certainly is," said Wade. "One penny doesn't pay for the leather in a pair of shoes, never mind the workmanship. Continue with your story, lad."

  Mij turned his attention back to the travellers. "Leon refused at first, and got very angry, pointing out, as Uncle said, that one coin doesn't even pay for the leather. But the clerk was very calm. He said that wasn't his problem. He said business was business and one denarius was all he would pay, and if Leon didn't want that, too bad. Then he turned and made as if to walk out the door." Mij paused, looking angry again.

  "And then?" Orph coaxed him.

  "Leon's wife was there with her youngest child in her arms. She dropped to her knees before the clerk and begged him to stay. Told him they would take one coin per pair if that was all he would pay."

  "And the Baron's agent?" Orcas inquired. "What did he do when this happened?"

  "He looked very uncomfortable, to be fair," said Mij grudgingly, reluctant to acknowledge any hint of virtue in the man. "He quietly asked the woman to stand up, lifted her up actually. She was crying and babbling all the time about the hungry children. And then, this was very odd, he paid Leon at the rate of one and a half denarii per pair. He swore him to secrecy on this and said it was because of the children, and if Phiord found out he would be finished."

  "Is that true?" Orph asked.

  "No. I don't think the Baron takes any notice at all of the factory except to welcome the money it brings. As far as I know, the clerk runs it."

  "I see. Then what happened?"

  "He paid Leon and told him to..to diversify." Mij looked puzzled. Orph smiled. "I think that was the word. He said that since there was no future in shoemaking Leon should find another trade; open an Inn or a shop. Leon just looked at him as if he was mad.

  "I am a cobbler, sir," he said. "I have always been a cobbler." At this, the clerk got quite annoyed and said you had to move with the times, especially when you had children to feed. He was still looking irritated when he left, and a bit disturbed too, I must say, when he saw all the beggars outside, including me, of course."

  "I think he's not completely heartless," said Orph; "but he won't change his philosophy merely because of the poverty it has caused. I'm sure he believes in it as a Natural Law."

  Orcas stood up, yawning. "Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, we will investigate this situation further."

  "What are you going to do?" Mij d
emanded keenly. He had stood up also and begun to collect the dirty plates and bowls.

  "We're going to visit the factory, first thing in the morning. You can show us the way, Mij."

  "Gladly! But you won't be allowed in, sir. The factory is shut up nearly as tight as the Citadel and no-one gets in except they have business there."

  "I'll get in," said Orcas with serene confidence. "This is our bedroom, through here?" Wade nodded. "Well, goodnight Mij; goodnight Wade."

  "Goodnight both," said Orph, following his friend. Mij and Wade set about cleaning the dinner dishes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As he lay in bed later that night, listening to the rhythms of Orph's sleepy breathing, Orcas remembered his recruitment. He had died, or so he thought, in battle, tumbled with Vanoir from a high precipice when a lance pierced the horse's side. Man and beast had toppled, falling with undignified cries to the gushing waters of the river far below. A dramatic end to the life of Orcas, Philosopher King of Byzantium on one of the more sorcerous Earths.

  But they had never struck the water. Instead, Orcas had awakened beside a pond in a quiet green wood, refreshed as after a deep sleep. The pond was in a clearing, surrounded but not crowded with a variety of trees; oak, elm, spruce, pine and many others, evenly spaced about so that the sun shone between them and there was room to walk in comfort. Bright flowers grew in abundant patches about the lush, soft grass and small fish swam lazily back and forth in the clean waters of the pond. Orcas turned his head to the left and saw Vanoir, his great chestnut stallion, munching noisily on the plentiful greenery. He turned his head to the right and saw a man sat in a cane chair on the other side of the pool, watching him. The man waved and smiled.

  Orcas had not moved apart from turning his head, nor did he now. "Where am I?" he asked from his prone position.

  "Paradise," came the prompt reply. "But you can't stay here because you're not really dead, and there's work for you to do."