Maran stepped forward, and from the voluminous pockets of his robe took a narrow silver circlet. “Alissa…even though you are not yet queen, here of all places your identity and future rank must be clearly known. This was made for you; please wear it here, just as Aran wears his.”
Aran took the circlet, “Let me Archmage.” Turning he faced Alissa and gently yet firmly placed the circlet upon her golden head, “Alissa, my queen to be…”
Wonderingly Alissa reached up to touch the circlet and Aran caught the flash of the enamelled signet ring of the Andurian line upon her finger. For a moment he stood there just lost in the quiet contemplation of her pale beauty. For a moment he wished that he and she were anywhere else but in this place. Just the two of them to resume what had begun earlier on that afternoon. Soon Alissa would be Queen in both name and deed, Aran mused to himself, the only pity being that day was not now.
“Hhhmmmpph,” there was the sudden sound of embarrassed throat clearing.
Aran looked up and saw the others grinning at him.
“My lord King,” Maran said looking at him with an odd expression on his face, “We all know how beautiful Alissa is and how much you love her, but really this is neither the time nor the place. Besides we have work to do,” Maran added, gathering his robes about him like a shepherd herding his flock. “The Council sits within, and even though many of us here outrank them, it would be indeed ill-done if we kept them waiting.”
Aran nodded, and watched as the Archmage went to the doors and opened the doors inwards. Standing at the front of the knot of men from the Keep, Aran gazed into the Council chambers and immediately saw a large ring-like table at which were seated over a score of men and women. Behind the table were small groupings of chairs and bench seats, most of these additional chairs were occupied. The large middle ring table had two entrances into the empty centre. This open section contained at least two or three busy servants and clerks whose duties seemed to be centered on the activities of the Councillors. Looking directly across, Aran saw three empty chairs at the main table nearest to the doors, and behind them an empty grouping of bench seats and stools. Almost immediately the group was noticed and the Councillors moved to their feet with a clatter and scrape of chairs on the tiled mosaic floor.
Directly opposite the door a capped and gowned man put up a hand in greeting.
“My lord King Arantur, welcome to our hall and deliberations,” Tuuvam’s greeting was both immediate and genuine. “There are seats made ready for you all…my lord King, Archmage, and Captain of the Guard, will you now join us at the Table of Deliberation.”
Aran nodded, and with the others only a step or two behind him, took their seats with the Council.
Once they were settled Tuuvam indicated that everyone else should resume their seats. It took only a moment or two for the room to regain their seats and for the quiet hum of low conversation to die away.
“My lord Arantur,” Tuuvam began, “First of all we of the High Council would like to welcome you and your party to Haulgard Port. It has been many generations since an heir of the Andurian line of kings sat at this table, and we are honoured by your presence here. We hope that it will be the first of many joint deliberations between Andurs’ King and Council.”
Aran nodded, his gaze locked with the spokesman of the Council.
“Although you may have already met some of our Council,” he continued, “Most of the men and women here did not go to the Keep but are representatives of Haulgards’ foremost families and merchant houses.” He paused as if to scan the faces in the hall. “Tidings of the great happenings at Andur’s Keep have already been circulated within Haulgard, and couriers have been sent with dispatches to the southern cities and towns.”
Aran smiled wryly at the Councillor, “I am indebted to your efficiency Councillor Tuuvam. As you know our energies have concentrated only upon preparing for the defence of the Province against the Thakur. If the Council can continue to coordinate Government whilst we of the Keep and the Legions do battle, then you would have our gratitude.”
Tuuvan nodded and sat down, “That goes without saying, liege. The Council will continue to oversee the day to day running of the province…in truth it is only what we have been doing since the loss of High King Alexi and his family.”
“Even though I am new to my throne,” Aran stated clearly, “I understand well the duties and responsibilities that go with that office. I may be young in years but I stand here before you bearing the ancient blood heritage of Warleader Andur and his descendants. Even though I am now your King and Liege lord, yet I do not forget my childhood years in Leigh when I was brought up by kind peasant folk, and of my early apprenticeship with an intelligent and honourable mastercraftsman. These are the years and experiences that have crafted my character, so if you find me perhaps a little blunt or lacking in diplomacy, then please excuse me, for I have had little experience in dealing with the nobility.”
An elderly Councillor with elaborately curled hair stood and bowed, “My lord King, time and experience will smooth any of your rough or unfinished edges. We of the Council have had many generations to craft words to a precision edge. Do not be dismayed if you cannot yet match us in phrase, these skills will be attained in the fullness of time.”
Aran frowned, not yet certain if he had been mocked or not.
“Councillor,” Aran addressed his reply to the man with the curled hair, “I am no wordsmith, and can only speak as a soldier to you all. Yet I would have you know that we now face the greatest threat since the coming of the Serat. The Thakur are the descendants of those who once held hostage our people and land. Any other issues or considerations must fade away against that. Nothing else matters than the destruction of their massing armies and the death of their Warleader.”
Tuuvam stood, “Of course liege. We of the Council fully support the military preparations taking place across the Province. We would be mean-spirited indeed if we cast obstacles before this undertaking.”
Aran smiled slowly, thankful that he had at least the Council spokesman on his side.
“We thank the members of the Council for their continuing support,” Aran replied, and then he looked across at the Council members. “It is no secret that in the past there have been problems between Haulgard’s Council and Andur’s Keep. Power plays and petty differences have plagued this communication…”
Imperceptibly his face tightened, “I have also become aware of a certain lack of respect by the hierarchy of Haulgard to the other cities and towns of the Province. Lately Haulgard seems to have adopted an attitude of condescension towards anyone who is not of Haulgard. This must of course stop at once.”
Aran let the low conversation sweep across the table then held up his hand for silence. Immediately the muttering died away.
“I ask this not out of any sort of ill-spirit towards you all. The truth of it is that this is a time when the Province must stand as one. Only in unity shall we find the strength to overcome our enemies.”
Tuuvam looked across at his king. Aran indicated that he should speak.
“My lord King…you have called the Council to task on these matters.” He sighed audibly, “Although the Council has had a long and illustrious history, I am afraid that lately certain members have allowed their personal ambitions to tangle the very fabric of the Council—undermining the efficient and just governance of the Province.”
The Council chamber grew deathly quiet at the Spokesman’s censorious words. “With the Andurian line reinstated we must now answer to a higher authority, and I promise you that we will effect immediate and sweeping changes to bring the Council to order.”
Aran nodded, “Do as you must Councillor Tuuvam. However I would remind you that the Council exists to help the Province and not to hinder it in any way. I also believe that a non-Haulgard biased observer should be admitted to your ranks in order to assist your deliberations and speed the process towards fruition.”
Aran turned to the Ar
chmage, “Archmage Maran, I would ask you to select from the mages who ride with us a suitable man or women who will be able to act as an honorary Councillor during this time of change. This mage should possess qualities of intelligence and diplomacy,” he added, his voice heavy with irony, “For he or she will have the full power of your name behind them.”
Maran inclined his head, “Of course my lord. I will consider this matter and make my choice before we ride out tomorrow morning.”
“My lord King,” Tuuvam spoke again, “Time grows short before the banquet. Let us now quickly discuss the changes you want effected, and the Council’s roles and responsibilities during the months ahead…”
*
“Well what did you think?” Aran asked his friends later that evening as he walked with them to the feast hall.
Darven shook his head in amazement, “Aran you astound me! Never have I known a man who could blatantly infuriate the Council in one breath, then have them eating out of the palm of his hand in the next.” He stared at his king in disbelief, “At one moment I was ready to draw my sword to defend you, and then I was amazed to hear the Council actually apologising for its behaviour. Does such talent come naturally to you Aran, or did you learn it at Master Cody’s forge in Leigh?”
Aran drew his cloak about him and smiled tightly, “I am just sick of mealy-mouthed dealings with Haulgard and their Council. It is past time that someone stood up to their absurdities, and I just happened to be the only one in the Province, bar Maran, who outranks their combined numbers.”
“True enough,” Alissa interjected, “And I still think some of them are still coming to terms with that…they are unused to being chastised I think.”
“Ah well it’s been said now,” Aran replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders as he put all thoughts of the Council out of his mind. “Now let us hurry onto this feast hall. I have not eaten since I broke my fast this morning, and I am starved.”
*
Early next morning, as Aran swung into the saddle of his horse, he happened to catch the considering glances of the few Councillors who had roused themselves to see the column off.
“They will not be displeased to see us go,” Darven muttered to Aran as he swung his horse around and intercepted the looks of the Councillors, “Although I believe we will be granted a warmer reception in Leigh.”
Aran grinned across at his friend, “I agree, but it may only be because I am a returning son of the town than anything else.” He glanced back at the clustering Councillors. “Tuuvam is the best of them. I only hope that he will be able to effect the changes we put in place last night.”
“Well at least he will have Mage Cela to back him up,” replied Darven, “When I went to fetch my horse this morning, there were a couple of mages at the stables and from what I heard them say it seems that Cela’s words can lash and caress almost at the same time. For an Earthmage she has remarkable flair for diplomacy. I believe the Archmage has chosen well,” he added with a smile.
*
Within minutes the column was quickly mounted and clattering through the still sleeping city of Haulgard. Occasionally Aran would see the distant figure of a baker or a tradesman hurrying to his work, but more often than not the cobbled city streets were utterly deserted.
“At least they keep it clean,” Darven remarked riding up to join Aran at the head of the column. “Some of the smaller towns are less fastidious, and everything and I mean everything, gets thrown out onto the streets.”
Aran gazed about him at the sprawling city, “If they want to keep their city free of pestilence and disease they have no other course of action. We had plague in Leigh a number of years ago and the healers finally determined that the rats were bringing the contagion in. If the rodents have nothing to feed upon, then there will be few if any of them about.”
“Too true,” agreed Trevan who, riding a few feet behind had overheard the conversation. “Generally our towns and cities are clean, the healers and mages have seen to educating the people about that. If plague comes, it is only because people have become lazy and neglected their town’s hygiene.”
“What I can’t work out is where they put their slops and rubbish.” Darven was curiously staring about him at the freshly swept streets. “I mean there’s not even an apple core about. A city this size must generate a huge amount of rubbish.”
Darven urged his mare forward, “I have spent some time in Haulgard and am quite familiar with it.” He bent down to lightly touch the white neck of his horse, “There is an arrangement that people keep their slops in barrels, and their wastes in covered buckets. During the night wagons go out to collect these containers and the slops are then thrown into large decomposing beds…the resulting material is used around Haulgard to enrich the local fields.”
“What about the human wastes?” Aran asked, despite himself.
Trevan looked up and smiled, “Most is collected in the covered buckets. There is also line upon line of communal latrines situated in the thickness of the city walls. All of these latrines empty out into huge below-ground pits which the buckets are then emptied into.”
“So what happens then?” Darven asked, fascinated.
“The Earth and Healermages at Glaive have discovered that the blending of several herbs and rock powders together will, if cast into this mess of waste, break it down to a matter which can be spread across the fields enriching them.”
Darven pulled a face at that, and Aran frowned, “Then there is no risk of disease?”
Trevan shook his head, “The matter which is broken down has no smell, and is highly beneficial to the crops. Haulgard and the other big coastal cities have been using this process for years, and I’ve not known of any sickness resulting from it.”
“And Glaive taught them this?” Aran asked finally.
“The need for the removal of human wastes to avoid illness has been known for countless generations, but the uses of composted waste to enrich the field? Why yes that is a Glaive idea.” Trevan said proudly.
“Then we are indebted to Glaive,” Aran said simply. “Else it would be certain that the fields on which Haulgard depend would soon be barren and overworked.”
*
Before long the column had gained the gate, and the night watch of legio swiftly jumped to attention, saluting smartly their king and his Guard. Being so deep within the settled security of Central Andur, Captain Taran had arranged for the still sickly Alem, accompanied by a small group of the Guard to ride escort on the supply wagons, enabling the larger contingent comprising the remainder of the Guard, and the fyrd from Dawnfast and Eastling to spur their horses into a canter to ride swiftly towards Leigh.
Aran knew that the Legion and garrison from Haulgard were still ahead of them on the road, and he wanted to meet them and if time permitted, perhaps ride ahead to greet the Legions as they arrived at Leigh.
Not wanting to be delayed further in the city of Helmsgard, Captain Taran had decided in consultation with Aran, and the Archmage that their cause would be better served if they took the route to Leigh through Haul East. Captain Taran deduced correctly that if they took the southern road they would be obliged to spend yet another day and night being entertained by the city elders and leaders. Any other day they would have gladly fulfilled these obligations, but time was pressing, and with every day that passed, it drew them ever deeper into autumn and the unfortunate likelihood of a winter campaign. Aran thought on these matters, as the column cantered along the hard packed dirt road west out of Haulgard. If the horses could endure a swift pace, then with the Goddess’s grace they might gain Haul East by evening and then Leigh the following afternoon.
*
‘Brother…how fare you?’
Aran looked up from his musings and the half-stupor he had habitually fallen into whilst riding.
“Sarana? It is good to hear your voice…I had feared you would not be joining us,” Aran murmured quietly.
There was the suggestion of a laugh in his
ear, ‘How could I not abandon you. We were born twins, and whilst you have living breath I am joined to you like a newborn is to its mother. Could you rip out the roots of a plant and still ask it to live and thrive in the soil brother?’
Aran shook his head, “So how have you spent your days, sister?”
‘Whilst I was able, I stayed near the sea,’ Sarana’s voice breathed, ‘…now that you and those who ride with you have struck inland, I must too stay closer to you.’
Aran smiled, “I am sorry Sarana, we debated about taking the southern coastal road, but we feared our trip would be overly delayed by Helmsgard. If we had done so you would have been able to stay near the water.”
There was the suggestion of the smile in her voice, ‘It is no matter, for I am looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with the creatures around Leigh. It has been almost two months now since you left there.’
“Aye,” Aran agreed “Although I look forward to seeing my foster family again, I am apprehensive about meeting Sed. Master Cody said that he has changed, and I fear that it is not a change for the better.”
‘Sed seemed always jealous of you,’ Sarana told him gently. ‘I did not want to disturb your life Arantur, so I watched over you from a distance. Even I could tell that he wanted to be first and foremost. He is a user, brother, and I have observed many times as he gloatingly displayed his hunting skill over you.’
Aran nodded sadly, “There is truth in that. I could never understand why Sed took so much pleasure in inviting me hunting when he knew all too well that I had no love or talent for it.”
‘He is a small man both in stature and character, brother,’ Sarana replied. ‘Be wary around him when you go to Leigh…if since your elevation, he bears you great ill-favour.’
“I could give him great wealth and position, Sarana.” Aran said puzzled. “Does he not realise that? Any other man would think that it was his great good fortune that a member of his family was made king. Any other man would be already at my door asking for money or a position within my court. Yet he shuns me and bears me ill-will.”
The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 17