Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter Kenson

  He looked disconsolately at his feet. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Well what can you do?” Josep continued. “Where do your talents lie?”

  “I can fight,” he said. “I learnt that from my uncle.”

  “With what? You have no sword. You have no bow. You have nothing but a belt knife. And where is your uncle? Why did he leave you?”

  “He died,” Seb said with obvious reluctance. “He died. I managed to escape on the horse but they took his weapons and armour.”

  “So you are a fighter without weapons and armour,” Josep went on relentlessly. “What else can you do?”

  “I can work,” he replied. “I’m strong. There must be many jobs I can do.”

  “Seb, look around you. Look at the crowd in the market square today. There are farmers, farmers’ sons, labourers by the dozen. Let me tell you a truth boy. For every farmer’s son here today, there is a labourer who is not working. Because blood will always hire blood. Do you want that sort of life? Working for somebody with no certainty that the job will still be there tomorrow. Or do you want to take control of your life? Be your own boss and decide what you want to do and not what somebody else tells you to do?”

  “I guess.”

  “Look, Seb, I’m not pushing you to join us. It’s your decision. But I’m offering you an opportunity. I don’t know how much you have in your purse but I’m telling you, when we get to Puerto Reis, you will have double what you have now.”

  “Okay,” he hesitated. “But all I have left is four groats.” He tipped the coins onto the table.

  Josep looked in horror at the four coins spilled across the table. “This… this is the sum total of your wealth, Seb?”

  The boy looked down at his feet again and his colour heightened slowly. “They took everything when they killed my uncle. It is only thanks to my horse that I escaped with my life. And then he threw a shoe and went lame. That was when I met you. I haven’t had much opportunity to plan my life since.”

  Josep looked at the boy for a long time before Agnes nudged him in the ribs. He turned his head to look at her and she nodded at him with a look that said ‘get on with it’.

  “Seb, are you happy to continue travelling with us, at least as far as Puerto Reis?”

  “I don’t have any other plans or anywhere better to go,” was the quiet reply.

  “Okay look, if I lend you three silver talons ow… ”, he stopped to rub his ankle. “Five silver talons, to join in with us, you can repay me when we reach Puerto Reis and sell the goods. Do we have a deal?”

  Seb looked up curiously and stared at Josep for a moment. “Yes okay. We have a deal.” He spat on the palm of his hand and held it out for Josep to shake.

  So leaving the others to man the stalls, Josep spent the rest of the afternoon haggling with the farmers for any food that would survive the twelve day journey to Puerto Reis; sacks of grain, meat that had been salted and preserved, jars of honey and mead, and he even managed to find two jars of spiced fruits.

  The market square was crowded until sunset and when the farmers packed up to return home, they lit braziers in the square and musicians started playing. They paid their dues to the market reeve and stayed to enjoy the music and dancing. They had collected Seb’s horse and the blaze during the afternoon, and the blacksmith was true to his word. The horses were shod and ready to go but no-one felt any urgency to leave. They stayed to enjoy the night.

  Zak and Beth spent the entire evening dancing together and Rachel was invited to dance by several of the local lads, refusing them all before Agnes elbowed her in the ribs and told her to get to her feet. Even Seb was dragged into the fray and being a handsome lad, was not allowed to sit down again for the rest of the evening. It was, Josep concluded, a very successful day and he and Agnes joined the others in the dance at the end of the evening.

  The following day there were more than a few sore heads in the town of Santos but Josep and his party were on the road early. The town was just beginning to stir behind them as they headed out through the gates. A bleary eyed guard waved them through before hastily disappearing back into the warmth of the guardhouse. As Seb’s horse was not fit to ride yet, Rachel suggested that he ride with her for the morning and so they tethered the horse to the back of her wagon. Her own new horse was referred to by everybody as ‘the blaze’ and that, she decided, was as good a name for her as anything else. Blaze proved to be a good and willing worker and as Rachel’s wagon was smaller than the other two, they had no trouble keeping up with the pace.

  There was no other traffic on the road that early and they rode in silence for a while as the early morning mist began to boil off the surrounding fields. Silence, however, was not very much in Rachel’s character.

  “It’s going to be a warm one today,” she began. “Once this mist has burnt off.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “We’re probably going to have to stop and water the horses around mid-morning.”

  “I guess.”

  “You don’t say very much, do you?”

  “My uncle taught me that, unless you have something worth saying, it’s better not to say anything.”

  “Hm, I read something like that in a book once. ‘A wise man talks because he has something to say. A fool talks because he has to say something.’ Does that make me a fool?”

  He looked at her in horror. “No… no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  “That’s all right,” she laughed. “No offence taken. But sometimes it’s nice to just pass the time with some conversation.”

  “But it’s easy for you. You seem to be able to talk to anybody about anything. I can’t do that. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well then, let’s start with something that you know a lot about. Tell me about your uncle. How did he die?”

  Seb fell silent for such a long time that Rachel began to think that she should have chosen a different subject. Then he gave a big sigh. “We were ambushed. We were riding down this forest path when two men jumped out and grabbed the bridle of my uncle’s horse. He drew his sword and started slashing at the men when another man swung across the track on a rope that had been tied to one of the high branches and knocked my uncle clear out of his saddle. Then other men appeared with swords and pikes. They were a very well-armed gang.

  “Uncle Symon shouted at me to get clear and the leader of the gang obviously heard him, because he sent two men to catch my horse. But he reared up and they couldn’t catch the bridle so I spun him round and galloped off. That was the last time I saw my uncle alive. I should have stayed to help him but I was too afraid.”

  “Then how do you know he’s dead?” Rachel asked. “He might have escaped or been wounded.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I crept back hours later, very cautiously in case they were still there but they’d all gone. Or at least most of them had. There were three bodies at the spot where we’d been attacked. One of them was uncle Symon. They’d stripped the bodies of everything; weapons, armour, even their boots. I couldn’t leave him there with the other two but he was too heavy for me to lift onto the back of the horse. So in the end I had to tie his feet together with a length of rope and drag him away from that place behind my horse.”

  He broke off with a half-choked sob and fell silent again. Rachel watched him out of the corner of her eye, waiting to see if there was more to come.

  “I must have dragged his body for a quarter mile,” he eventually continued. “Then I came across a little clearing just off the trail and I buried him there. I had to use my belt knife to dig the grave; I had nothing else. By the time I’d finished it was full dark so I stayed there all night beside the grave. Come morning, I said goodbye to him, wished him a safe journey wherever he was going and then I rode on.”

  “So that’s how come you’re a fighter without weapons and armour and only a belt knife to defend yourself.”

  “Yes,” he admi
tted, “and it’s not even much of a belt knife. I broke the point and took the edge right off it, digging the grave. I couldn’t even cut a slab of butter with it at the moment.”

  “Oh well that’s easily fixed,” Rachel said cheerfully. “We’ll have a word with Zak when we stop tonight. I’m think he’s got a small grinding wheel in the back of his wagon. If we ask him nicely, I’m sure he’ll put an edge back on that knife for you.”

  “Uh Rachel…”

  “What?”

  “Well it’s just that, I’ve never told anyone about all of this before. Do the others need to know?”

  “That’s up to you, Seb. I won’t say anything; it’s not my story to tell. I do think that, perhaps, after everything they’ve done for you, they might like to know a little more about you. But that’s your decision.”

  There was a long silence then that kept on extending as the little caravan made its way down the road. Finally, it was Seb who broke the silence. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them when we stop tonight.” And then was hugely embarrassed as Rachel leaned across and kissed him on the cheek.

  Chapter 11

  As Jeren finished speaking, there was absolute silence in the tent. The members of the council sat there, staring at him with expressions that ran the whole gamut of emotions from admiration to horror. Falaise felt as though her heart was going to burst with pride for the son who had changed so much in the last few days that she almost did not recognise him. The officers of David’s company, most of whom had never heard of Marmoros, were nevertheless swept along by the enthusiasm of the speech and looked towards David, unsure of what their reaction should be. Subtly he signalled them to stand down while he waited for the reaction from the council.

  Wynter was the first to move. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet and started to clap, slowly at first but gradually with more and more enthusiasm as first Foxley stood and joined in and then Perborn and Litestone got to their feet. “Long live Lord Jeren,” Foxley shouted and the others joined in, shouting their agreement. Even Bardsley reluctantly stood up and half-heartedly joined in the applause.

  Outside in the village, people stopped to listen in astonishment. David’s guards kept everybody at a distance so nobody had heard what had been said but the applause and the cheers could be heard for some distance.

  Inside the tent, Jeren raised his hands to stop the applause and turned to David. “Lord Held, I did not consult you before saying what I did and for that I apologise. But you have a contract to defend me, my mother and our village for the duration of the winter. Will you honour that contract?”

  “As I recall, my lord, the contract was to defend you against the troops of Duke Henry, not to take on the assault of a fortified city occupied by a warlord with an unknown number of troops at his disposal.”

  “The terms of the agreement may need to be renegotiated,” Jeren admitted. “But in principle, do you agree to this new proposal?”

  “I do not have enough men to take on this warlord on my own. You offered the men of your village to fight alongside my men. For this to work, I need to train them to fight; I need to train them to prevent them from being killed and I need them tomorrow morning. If you can deliver that, then I will consider this new contract.”

  Jeren looked at the councillors. “What do you say, my lords?”

  “Our people are not fighters, Jeren, you know that,” Perborn said. “They have no military training or skill at arms. But give them a big enough cause and they will fight. For the chance to return to Marmoros, many men will step forward but many of them will not live to see the city. There will be a heavy price to pay for this.”

  “I have one or two veterans who have seen military service elsewhere,” Foxley added. “But they are not youngsters anymore. All the young men with military ambitions are away in various armies or working as caravan guards on the more dangerous routes.”

  “Can they be recalled?” David asked. “Do you have any way of contacting them?”

  “As I said this morning, my lord,” Falaise replied, “we have contacts in every major city. Either Lyenar who have settled there or merchants with whom we have regular dealings. We can get word to these people fairly easily. Caravans that are on their way somewhere will be more difficult. For those, we will probably have to wait until they reach one of the cities where we have a contact.”

  “Are there any other sources of fighters we can call on?”

  “We have hunters,” Wynter put in. “Maybe a dozen or so who are skilled with the bow but they will mostly have no skill with either sword or spear.”

  “That’s all right,” David said. “Archers are probably the most useful body of men you can give me at the moment.”

  He looked around at the assembled councillors, all of them still on their feet, including Bardsley. Finally he settled his gaze on Jeren and Falaise standing behind him.

  “Lord Jeren, I’m not going to give you an answer on the big contract at this time.”

  He raised a hand to still the protests that were about to burst forth.

  “Let me explain. I’m not saying no but, realistically, I have to take this one step at a time. I have contracted to defend you and your people against Duke Henry’s men. There are an unknown number of soldiers searching for us, some of whom may only be three days ride away. We either have to evade or, in all probability, fight these men and there will be casualties. There may also be other troops in the region and on the move that we know nothing about at present. We then have to get through or round the town of Highport in order to get off Duke Henry’s land.

  “Once we have done that, the threat from Duke Henry will be greatly reduced, we will know the scale of the casualties and we will talk again of Marmoros. Is that acceptable?”

  “No!”

  The word dropped into the silence like a stone in the middle of a pond and the echoes rippled around the tent. “No, Lord Held,” Falaise repeated, “that is not acceptable and we do not have a deal on those terms.

  “You heard what Lord Perborn said. Our people will only fight if the cause is big enough. My son has a vision,” she said, putting a hand on Jeren’s shoulder. “If he speaks to the people as he spoke to us this afternoon, they will be inspired as we were and they will fight for that vision. But they will not fight simply to get off Duke Henry’s land. They will run. I do not condemn them for that but they will run. And if the troops catch them they will scatter and run some more. Some will be caught and some may die but others will get away and will survive. That is the way of the people, my people.

  “The only way to hold them together in the face of the threat from Duke Henry, is to give them a goal. But it has to be a goal that they believe is achievable. No matter how much Lord Jeren inspires them with his vision, they will not believe they can retake Marmoros without an army. We need your men to fight for us, Lord Held and we need your commitment to Marmoros.”

  David looked at her for a long moment and then signalled his officers together in one corner of the tent. They spoke in hushed tones for several minutes with much shaking of heads and David doing his best to argue down the objections that were being raised. Eventually he got a reluctant nod from each of his men and turned back to the council.

  “You ask much of us my lady, my lords. I have two conditions and these are non-negotiable. If you cannot meet these conditions, we do not have a deal. Firstly, I want every fighting man that you have, every veteran, every hunter under my direct command from tomorrow morning. My officers will train them. They can return to their families at the end of the day but they will carry their weapons with them at all times and they will respond to the call to arms at any hour of the day or night.”

  Falaise nodded. “That will be arranged, my lord. And your second condition?”

  “Whatever young fighting men you have out on military service, I want recalled. Also I understand there are two other Lyenar villages similar to this one. We need to join forces and, w
hen we do, I want their fighting strength, their hunters under my direct command on the same terms as the others.”

  This time Falaise did not reply directly but looked at the other councillors for support. One by one they nodded their agreement, all except Bardsley.

  “We cannot directly command members of other family groups,” he said. “We can try to influence them. Lord Jeren can talk to them and try to inspire them as he has us but we cannot guarantee that they will react in the same way.”

  “Then you will have to be very persuasive, Lord Bardsley because without those men, this deal falls apart.”

  David looked at Falaise. “What do you say, my lady?”

  “Lord Bardsley is technically correct. We cannot directly command these people. However, I believe that the Lyenar people as a whole, will be swayed by the prospect of a return to Marmoros. I believe that we have enough influence here in this council to carry the other families with us and deliver you your fighting men.”

  “Then I accept the contract on those conditions. Now, the first thing we have to do is plan tomorrow.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jeren interrupted. “There is a formality to conclude before we proceed.” He looked at Falaise. “With your permission, my lady.”

  Falaise waved a hand in assent. “With the departure of the traitor, Gaelan, there is a free seat on the council. I propose to appoint Lord Held to take that seat as my military advisor.”

  Immediately there was an objection from Bardsley. “You can’t do that, Jeren… I mean Lord Jeren. He’s not even Lyenar.”

  “Lord Bardsley, I do not recall anything in the law which says that my advisors, or in this case my lady mother’s advisors, have to be of Lyenar stock. We need the best advice that we can get regardless of its origin. In this case, if we are to retake Marmoros, we most certainly need specialist military advice. Who, among the Lyenar, would you suggest that I appoint as military advisor in place of Lord Held?”