Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter Kenson

  “Then it seems quite clear. We have to cross the Staden as quickly as possible and certainly before the Duke’s troops arrive.”

  Ash sucked his cheeks in. “Not as easy as that, milord. There are several places where a horse and rider could swim across, or even wade across in the dry season. But wagons… there’s only two places they could cross the Staden and one of those is Stadenbridge.”

  “And we’d run straight into Duke Henry’s troops on the way there. So what’s the other place where we can cross?”

  “The free city of Highport, milord.”

  “Free city? Tell me about it.”

  “Highport is a major commercial trading centre. It lies on the direct route from Kell to Paelis and is the highest navigable point on the River Staden. Because of that, it attracts trade from all three dukedoms. It also lies exactly on the boundary where all three dukedoms intersect and it has been the cause of many disputes and even wars in the past. Nowadays, its strategic importance as a trading centre is so great that it has been designated a free city, independent of any of the dukes and that independence is enshrined in a charter granted by the High King himself.

  “Having said that, the lord high thingummy in Highport, Maxten I think he’s called, is excessively careful not to offend any of the dukes. There’s no certainty that, by the time we get there, we’ll find the city open to us.”

  “But what alternative do we have?” David asked. “There’s no point in turning back deeper into Paelis. That’s only postponing the inevitable. Whichever way we go, we’ll leave a trail so wide a blind man could follow it. If we go east towards Stadenbridge, we have to dodge round or fight however many troops are coming to find us and when and if we get there, the town is guaranteed to be hostile and closed to us. Highport is the only viable route.”

  By this time the councillors were starting to drift back in. David waited impatiently until they were all present and then repeated his analysis of the options. They huddled together anxiously for a few seconds before Falaise spoke. “That would appear to be the only logical choice, my lord.”

  “But what happens if Duke Henry gets word to Highport and they close the gates on us?” Litestone queried.

  “Then we will have to persuade them to open the gates for us,” David replied. “I assume there is some sort of local defence force in Highport but there really is no other way to go.”

  “And assuming that we get through Highport, where do we go then?” Wynter asked.

  “I suggest we go west towards Waymeet,” Foxley put in. “Duke Charles of Westron hates Duke Henry. He would protect us there.”

  There were murmurs of agreement from the other councillors when Jeren, who had been silent throughout the discussions until then, suddenly got to his feet. “No, my lords. We will not turn west towards Waymeet.”

  There was complete silence in the tent for a second as everybody looked at him in astonishment. It was Bardsley who recovered quickest and spoke first. “You have no say in this Lord Jeren. Against my better judgement, I have accepted your mother as Regent and as a member of this council, but you have no vote on this.”

  “On the contrary, Lord Bardsley, it is you who has no vote on this matter. You, together with the other members of this council were appointed to advise my father, Lord Brantyen. Since his untimely death, your role is to advise me or until I come of age, my lady mother as Regent. You do not actually have a vote on anything. You only have advice to offer and in this instance it is advice which I am rejecting.”

  Bardsley was slowly turning purple with rage and the other councillors were looking decidedly shaken at this pronouncement. Even Falaise was standing with a mixture of awe and admiration on her face for the young man who was now dominating a council of his elders.

  “You won’t get away with this, you little upstart,” Bardsley spluttered and then subsided as David signalled Feynor and Jorgen to go and stand behind him.

  “Please sit down Lord Bardsley and listen to what I have to say. I value the opinions of every member of this council, including yourself. In fact especially yourself because you are a contrary voice to most of the others and for that reason, I do not wish to lose you as a member of this council. But I have a vision, my lords.

  “Since we were forced from our homeland in the Great Treachery, we have been attacked and bullied so many times. We have paid our taxes to every lord whose land we cross and still we have had to pay ‘tribute’ or ‘protection money’ to groups of bandits and robbers within those lands. The noble lords accept our taxes but they do not protect us because they do not care about us. And we have not defended ourselves because we are weak.

  “Why, my lords, why are we weak? I will tell you. We are weak because we believe we are weak. We had the heart ripped out of us when we lost our homeland through an act of despicable treachery and we have never fought since because we don’t believe we can; because we have nothing worth fighting for. Well we are weak no longer. We now have the nucleus of a mercenary army that will fight for us. Lord Held has already won a great victory for us by defeating Duke Henry’s men and rescuing our boys. If we start to believe in ourselves again, we can fight alongside Lord Held and his men; we can defend our families, we can protect our rights and we can reclaim our birth right. And that, my lords, is precisely what we are going to do. That is my vision. We are going home. To Marmoros.”

  Chapter 10

  The three wagons were drawn up in a rough circle around the camp fire which was blazing away against the early evening chill. They had stopped early for the day and there had been plenty of time to gather firewood from the nearby woods. Josep, the leader of their little group, tossed another branch onto the fire and sat down contentedly, spreading his hands out in front of him to warm them.

  His wife Agnes and the girl Rachel were preparing vegetables by the light of the fire and adding them to the stew pot that was already bubbling merrily. Their cheeks glowed a ruddy colour in the heat of the blaze and they chatted happily as they worked. On the far side of the fire, Zak and his new wife Beth were seated with arms round each other’s waists and heads close together. “The joys of young love,” he thought as he caught Agnes’ eye and nodded in the direction of their son. She looked across and smiled back at him.

  The other member of their small group, a youth who said his name was Seb, sat apart from the others, staring at the fire, apparently deep in thought. “He’s a strange one,” Josep said to himself for the umpteenth time. He had never told them much about himself; in fact he never said very much at all. He never volunteered for any of the chores but, when asked to do something, he always did it willingly. They had met him three days previously, walking his horse by the side of the road. The horse had thrown a shoe and gone lame. Josep had dug the offending stone from the hoof and asked him where he was heading.

  “Where does this road lead to?” had been the reply.

  “Well the next town in this direction is Santos.”

  “Then that’s where I’m heading,” was all he said.

  Josep offered him a ride on the wagon until they could find a blacksmith to shoe his horse and that had been it. They never even got his name out of him until they stopped for the evening meal that day.

  Rachel, on the other hand, was a completely different proposition. She was bright and cheerful and would happily chatter away for hours with Agnes and Beth about all sorts of inconsequential things. She had been travelling with them for nearly a month now. They had met her at a crossroads, sat on an old wagon pulled by an even older horse and obviously trying to decide which direction to take.

  She had asked Josep where he had come from and when he replied, she asked, “Was it a nice town? Were the people friendly?”

  Josep thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “No, not really. The town was nothing special and the people are what you make of them.”

  “Then I shall follow you,” she said firmly and that was settled.

>   He smiled to himself as he thought about it now. She had slowed them down a bit because her horse was very old and they had to keep stopping to allow her to catch up. But she more than made up for that with her lively company in the evenings. Today they had made particularly slow progress and Josep had asked if he could examine her horse.

  “He’s not going to take you much further, girl,” he said sadly. “He may be willing but his heart is failing. You’re going to have to get yourself a new horse very soon.”

  “Oh,” she said and her face fell. It was the first time Josep had seen her looking sad. “Will… will he have to be put down?”

  “I don’t know,” Josep admitted. “We might find someone who needs a horse for some light work but he can’t pull a big wagon like yours any longer. Do you have money to pay for a new horse?”

  “I have money,” she said. “But I have never bought a horse before. I think I could use some help.”

  “It’s yours girl,” Josep exclaimed. “You have only to ask. We will be in Santos tomorrow. It’s quite a bit bigger than that last place we went through. There will be a blacksmith there for Seb and we should be able to find you a horse.”

  “Thank you Josep,” she said, flinging her arms round his neck and giving him a kiss.

  They had stopped short of Santos for the night. Josep had decided that there was no point in pushing hard to get in before they closed the gates as they wouldn’t be allowed to do any trading until the following morning. Anyway, the next day was market day, one of the farmers they passed had told them and the town would be much more lively.

  “We seem to be acquiring quite a collection of waifs and strays,” he remarked to Agnes that evening.

  “Be quiet you old fool,” she replied. “It’s nice to have the company of young people around. It makes me feel younger and if you go on collecting kisses like that, I think I shall have to keep a closer eye on you.”

  “Go on with you, woman,” he said putting his arm round her and they sat contentedly for a while longer, watching the fire slowly dying down.

  The next day they were up early. They could see the road from where they were camped and there was already quite a bit of traffic as the local farmers headed towards the market. By the time they reached the town gates, there was a small queue of wagons and carts ahead of them and they had to wait their turn. In the end they paid their toll and were waved through with no more than a cursory glance from the guard who was clearly bored with being on duty that morning.

  The market was indeed a lively affair. The square was already half full when they arrived and they hastily set up their stalls in one corner to catch the early trade. Once the initial flurry of interest had died down, Rachel asked Beth to keep an eye on her stall and she and Seb led their horses after Josep in search of a blacksmith.

  There were two blacksmiths in the town and Josep enquired carefully of the other stall holders which one they recommended. They found the favoured one in the street behind the main tavern with a hostelry alongside which obviously served both the tavern and the smithy. He looked at Seb’s horse first. “Picked up a stone then did ‘e?”

  “Uh huh,” Seb grunted.

  “Well I can shoe ‘im for ‘e. But that ‘eel’s still tender. ‘e won’t be able to ride ‘im for two maybe three days yet.”

  Seb shrugged. “Got to be done,” he said.

  “Right then. Leave ‘im ‘ere an’ come back in an ‘our. Now then, miss. Let’s ‘ave a look at your old nag.”

  “We were hoping,” Josep said, “that you might know someone who’s looking for a horse to do some light work. He’s still a willing worker but he can’t pull a heavy wagon all day anymore.”

  The blacksmith looked him over carefully. “’e’s very old,” he said cautiously, “an’ ‘is ‘eart’s going. ‘e’s still willing, you say?”

  “He’s pulled a heavy wagon for a long time,” Josep said. “He brought us here today but he is slowing down. He can’t do as much as he used to but he still tries.”

  “Hm, I might know someone who could use ‘im. Only ‘as to pull one load a day from one side of town to t’other. Can’t give ‘e much for ‘im though.”

  “Will he be looked after?” Rachel asked with a touch of anxiety creeping into her voice. “I couldn’t bear the thought of him being mistreated or put down.”

  “Don’t ‘e fret, miss. ‘e’ll be right. But I’m guessing ‘e’ll be needing a new ‘orse then,” he said, raising an enquiring eyebrow. “Otherwise ‘e won’t be going very far tonight.”

  “Only if you have something suitable,” Josep intervened. “We don’t want to replace a nag with a nag. And I have two horses on my wagon. I can quite easily spare one of them until we reach the next town.”

  “Oh no, sir. That won’t be necessary, I’m sure. I’ve got something next door that’ll suit the young miss a treat. Shall us go take a look?”

  In the hostelry, the grooms brought out two carthorses for them to look at and Josep took his time to check them over. When he had finished he drew Rachel out of earshot of the smith. “Which one do you favour?”

  “I like the one with the white blaze but that doesn’t mean she’s the best.”

  “I like her too. Let’s see what the old rogue wants for her.”

  Josep turned to the blacksmith who was standing there watching them. “Are these the best you have to offer? They’re both smaller than the one we’re selling.”

  “Ah but ‘e’s old, sir. These are both young ‘orses an’ strong. They’ll do the young miss proud, they will.”

  “Well what will you take for the blaze?”

  “’That one. ‘er’s worth five silver talons of anyone’s money, sir.”

  “Five talons,” Josep spluttered. “I wouldn’t give you more than three for her.”

  “Oh sir. ‘er cost me more than that to buy. An’ then there’s ‘er board an’ keep. I couldn’t take less than four for ‘er.”

  “And if we agree four talons for the blaze, what will you give us for the old horse?”

  The blacksmith appeared to think for a minute. “Five groats, sir.”

  “Fifteen. If we pay four talons for the blaze, you give us back fifteen groats for the other.”

  “’ave an ‘eart, sir. I’ve got a wife and family to feed. Ten groats.”

  “I’m sure your wife and family will do very well from you, master smith. Ten groats it is then. Do we have a deal?”

  “You drive an ‘ard bargain, sir but I accept.”

  “Very well. And I expect to see four new shoes on the blaze when we collect her.”

  As they walked back to the market square, Rachel gave Josep a hug. “Thank you, Josep. I couldn’t have done that on my own.”

  “You’re very welcome, my dear. But be careful. Agnes is getting jealous.”

  She broke away and slapped him on the arm. “There. Is that better?”

  “I preferred the hug,” he admitted. “But seriously, four talons is an expensive horse. Can you afford so much?”

  “Yes I can. I don’t know how business has been today but I had that much in reserve. I would have paid the five if I had to.”

  “Well then, you’re a talon in credit. Let’s explore the delights of the market for a few minutes before we re-join the others.”

  There were tumblers in the market and they watched them build a human pyramid before crashing to the ground and somersaulting upright again to the rapturous applause of the crowd. Rachel spent a couple of groats on sweetmeats to take back to the others but as they were crossing the square she stopped for a moment.

  “Josep, you asked if I could afford the four talons to buy that horse. If I had said no, would you have lent me the money?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  “But why? You don’t know me, Josep. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “That’s only partly true, my dear. I may not strictly owe you anything but I do know you.
In the short time we have known you, Agnes and I have come to love you very much. If you had needed the money, it would have been there for you.”

  “Oh Josep,” she said, blinking back the tears that were forming in her eyes. “I’d give you another hug except that Agnes might see us.”

  It was a good market that day. Agnes sold two bolts of a fine brocade to the local dressmaker and Zak and Beth had done a brisk trade in their pots and pans. Even Rachel sold many of the trinkets that she had acquired on her travels and there was a very satisfactory feel to all their purses by the end of the day.

  As their sales had been so good in the market, Josep decided that they needed to replenish their stock of goods and for that they would have to visit one of the bigger cities where such things were made or imported. The nearest city was Puerto Reis, the capital city of the region of Annaba and the principal port on this whole stretch of coast.

  He knew that a city the size of Puerto Reis was always in need of food and the one thing there was in abundance in Santos on market day was food. And so he called everybody together and told them the plan. As independent traders, Zak and Rachel were entitled to negotiate their own deals but there were potentially significant discounts to be obtained by buying in bulk. Josep put a purse of money on the table and offered to negotiate on their behalf if they wanted to add their money to the purse. Both Zak and Rachel accepted the offer and, between them, added sufficient coin to nearly double the purse.

  “What about you Seb?” Josep asked. “I know you are not really a trader but you are welcome to buy a share in this deal if you want.”

  The boy was quiet for several long moments. Eventually, colouring slightly, he said, “I cannot. I don’t know how I’m going to stretch the little money I have left. I paid the blacksmith for shoeing my horse but I have not paid you for the food I have eaten around your campfire every night. I cannot spare any coin.”

  “You don’t pay for hospitality that is freely given, Seb,” Josep said. “You owe me nothing. But let’s look at this another way. Let’s look towards the future. Your purse is lighter now than it was this morning. How are you going to refill that purse? How are you going to earn your crust?”