by Paul Green
Bors slammed his fist down on the table. "THAT IS ENOUGH OUT OF BOTH OF YOU!"
Accolon and Sagremor instantly straightened up with a look of alarm on their faces; albeit still with a very slight look of amusement.
Then Bors glared at Arthur. " I am NOT going on a ... date. 'Dates' are only for nobles. I am NOT interviewing a woman. If I want a woman, then I shall have a woman. If I want a wife, then I shall take a wife. But NOT ... because some child tells me to!"
"That is just it, Bors." Arthur smiled, innocently. "You want a woman, but you will not take one."
"I have more than my hands full taking care of you, young pup. Not to mention your father's duties and the troops and the new Knighthood. I do not have time for a woman."
Arthur crossed his arms. "So I am making you take the time."
"I do not think so."
"You ate my cake."
"I shall get you a new cake!"
"You want a woman."
"I do NOT want a woman!"
"Now you speak lies, Bors." Arthur grinned. "I can always see the intents of your heart. And you have such intents. Often."
Bors sneered at him.
"Are you serious!?" Accolon exclaimed. "You can really tell ... when we have such ... uh ... intents!?"
Arthur nodded. "You have both had such intents ever since we began speaking of such intents."
"What!? How can ... how can you..."
"Your hearts get all warm and ... glowy and ... it is difficult to explain. Of course there is Frederick, when he sometimes speaks about that girl Katelyn he has met from Cameliard; although I think his heart is becoming more intently serious about that girl in particular. But as for you two? Every time one of you sees a pretty girl you become all warm and glowy. Except you, Bors; any time you see ANY girl..."
Bors dropped his head to the table. "Surely this gift is a curse."
*** *** ***
"Perhaps ... we should change subjects." Accolon chuckled, after the laughter settled down. Of course, Accolon and Sagremor were nearly as red as Bors.
Arthur shrugged. "May we speak of the reasons why other kings and nobles dislike my father?"
The other three looked at Arthur in surprise. "That ... is a sharp change of subject." noted Sagremor.
"It has been troubling me for a long time. I do not wish people did not think ill of my father. Why do people hate my father?"
Bors sighed. "Young pup, people do not ... 'hate' ... your father."
Arthur looked at Bors, as if Bors was challenging what Arthur could obviously see in the hearts of other people.
"...exactly." Bors sighed, again. "For it not because of injustices done by your father."
"I know. These things were done by Vortigern before my father reclaimed the throne."
"Actually..." Bors said, "...Vortigern did many terrible things, that is true. But High King Constans ... and his father before him, Constantine III, they had also done things which caused much dislike for the throne. Your father has inherited such problems. Unfortunately, your father has done nothing to alleviate those problems. Therefore, the people now blame him."
"I know that, Bors. Not doing anything about the problems is as bad as having caused them in the first place. That is not what I was asking."
Bors looked at Arthur in surprise. "You already knew all of this?"
"Of course. I knew that a long time ago. I have known for a long time how everyone now blames my father."
"That is the problem, young pup. Uther ... has not done anything. And only the High King can undo what has been done."
"Is that really true?" Arthur asked. "Only the High King?"
"I am afraid so, young pup. And someday you shall inherit these very same problems, because nothing is likely to be done about them. Although by that time, I am sure they shall have likely grown much worse. People are like that, you know."
"People like blaming people, don't they?"
"Of course, young pup. Especially those at the top. You shall be inheriting all the blame of Vortigern and your forefathers. And there is little we can do until you wear the crown."
"Perhaps there are some things we can do."
"Such as?"
"The taxes. The people and the kings and the nobles hate the taxes. They get very angry with my father about heavy taxes."
"Those heavy taxes were put into place by a royal decree from Vortigern. They can only be removed by decree from the High King."
"We can give the money back."
"I understand what you are saying, young pup. But it does not work that way. It is a little more complicated than that. We cannot simply ... open up the royal treasury to the public. The royal treasury has been protected by laws since the earliest of days. As I said, the problem of taxes is complicated. Perhaps when you are older..."
"I was not suggesting opening up the royal treasury to the public. I understand how the flow of exchange works."
Bors raised his eyebrow. "Do you, now?"
"I have been tutored since I was two years of age, Bors. I understand how these things work."
Bors looked at the other two Knights with a slight smile on his face. "Is that a fact? Very well. Let us hear how a ten year old child would solve the problem of taxes."
"I propose we open a marketplace."
"A ... marketplace?"
"My grandsire once purchased all of the land surrounding the castle fortress, did he not?"
"He did."
"Therefore, that land now belongs to me. I propose we open one quarter of the land to establish a public marketplace. We invite anyone and everyone to come to this public place and market their wares. Be it artisans or craftsmen, farmers or clothiers ... even eateries, Bors." Arthur winked.
Bors looked at him in surprise.
"We allow them use of the land for free." Arthur added.
"Near the castle fortress!?" exclaimed Sagremor. "Surely you jest!"
"We allow them to use the land for free..." Arthur continued, and we allow them to set up their shops for free. We shall even build all of their shops for them, and pay for all the materials, and build public roads which shall lead to this marketplace."
"With what money!?" exclaimed Bors.
"With the taxes we have collected. It is in this way, we can give the money back to them. We need not issue any decree, because we are using the taxes for building and construction and conducting valid business upon royal land; which I own. Not because we give money to the people. To make it a true business venture, we must receive capitol. Therefore, all we ask in return, is a very small percentage of each and every sale. According to my figures, and I have gone over them with Alfred, the Master Scribe, we would need 250 shops and businesses and merchants and the marketplace would pay for itself. The merchants would do well because of the location and close proximity to the castle, and they would have no initial overhead of expense, other than providing their own wares and supplies and inventory. To promote healthy competition to keep prices fair, the merchants who retain the highest sales shall be located in the center; whereas the less successful merchants shall be remain at the outer edges. If they are unable to turn in any profit at all, they shall forfeit their position entirely and it shall be given to someone else. And if the marketplace is successful enough and is well-enough promoted, then perhaps by the time I ascend to the throne, I can remove the burden of taxes entirely."
*** *** ***
It was a very, very, very long time of stunned silence, before the three Knights finally managed to pick up their mouths which had been lying upon the kitchen floor.
"How old did you say you were, again?" Accolon asked in awe.
Arthur turned and looked at Bors. "I do not know. Someone ate my cake."
Bors rolled his eyes.
"When you say ... 'small percentage of the sales'..." Sagremor began to ask.
"Three percent." Arthur replied.
"I ... could afford ... three percent..." Sagremor said, thoughtfully.
"Actually, every
one should be able to afford three percent." said Arthur. "Even peasant farmers. Even ... widows, who all they can do is sew. I got to thinking about Cook. She was fortunate that I happened to stumble upon her in the forest. But what of all the other widows in the kingdom? Surely even Bors could not eat that much cooking." Arthur teased.
Bors snorted.
"The point is, this whole idea started out as ... 'what could we do to offer help to all the others? Cook would never have been able to open up her own shop or eatery. Nor could thousands upon thousands of others. This way ... well, at least it is a start. And least it would give more people a greater chance. And it would not involve changing laws or royal decrees or negating wrongful things done by my forefathers. That is how this whole idea started."
Arthur wasn't surprised to see a tear forming in Accolon's eye, for he well knew from private conversions, how that Accolon had planned on giving away a portion of this salary to help widows and orphans. "I knew at least you might support this idea."
Accolon found he could only nod.
"What about the rest of you?" Arthur asked. "What do you think?"
Sagremor grinned. "I think, I might open up a sword sharpening shop!"
Bors raised an eyebrow.
Sagremor cleared his throat. "Uh ... that is ... only on week's end ... as I am now officially a Knight, as of today ... I do still have week's end to do as I please, do I not, Battlemaster?"
"This? From the man who spake that I look like a lumbering ox?"
Cough. "Uh..."
"How much would you charge to sharpen my sword?"
"Uh ... for you, Battlemaster?" Ahem. "No charge."
"No, no." Arthur chuckled. "There shall be no free offers within the marketplace; else we shall not receive our three percent which is necessary to remain legitimate and above suspicion. I also do not think it would be fair business practice to your fellow merchants. I have already begun drawing up a list of fairness rules with the Master Scribe."
Bors threw his hands up in the air. "Is there ANY thing you have not thought of? You leave nothing for the rest of us!"
Arthur grinned. "I am sure there are a thousand things I have not thought of; this shall be no small undertaking. So does this mean you approve of the idea!?"
"I have only one question for you, my Prince." Bors asked.
"What is that?"
"What shall we be naming this new venture? If we shall be promoting this ... marketplace of yours around the kingdom, it should have a name."
"Oh, that part was easy. I was thinking of calling it ... The Marketplace."
Bors smiled at Arthur.
Arthur grinned back, sheepishly. "I got the idea for the name from Cook. I still cannot remember her name sometimes."
Everyone laughed as they toasted the new Marketplace. And Cook.
Chapter 35
Eleven year Birth Celebration
"Camelot."
"Excuse me, young pup?"
"What do you think of the name ... Camelot?"
CLASH!!! CLASH!!!
Arthur was speaking to Bors, while Bors was watching Arthur and another Knight trainee named Frederick fighting with swords over a small marked territory. The winner of the monthly tournament would be awarded an all-you-can eat dinner to be prepared personally by Cook.
"I have no idea what you are speaking about, young pup. Pull your head out of the clouds and focus on your footing; you are favoring your right."
"We need a name, Bors."
CLASH!!! CLASH!!!
Bros crossed his arms. "Your stance is not low enough. Who needs a name? A name for what?"
"The castle. The courtyards. The Knights barracks. The stables. The grounds all around. The area where the Marketplace is being constructed. All of the lands surrounding us which belong to us. This whole entire area and region needs a name."
"The area has a name. In case you have forgotten, it is called House Pendragon."
"No. That is not a name. That is a title. 'House Pendragon' sounds like it is all about me."
"That is because it is about you. Well ... your father and you."
CLASH!!! CLASH!!!
"Now you are favoring your left." Bors scolded. "Focus on what you are doing!"
"I am focusing, Bors! And no, it is NOT about me! OR my father! The throne exists, because of the people. Without the people, there is no throne. It has never been about me, or my father, or even my forebears. It has always been about the people."
"STOP!!!"
Arthur and Frederick instantly stopped and froze; just as they had been always taught.
"Where you have you heard this before, young pup?"
"Uh ... I do not know if I have heard this before; at least that I can recall. It just seems ... right."
"Take a break." Bors ordered Frederick.
"Yes, Battlemaster!" And Frederick began running away.
After Frederick was gone, Bors sighed.
"Did I say something wrong, Bors?"
"No, young pup. It is just ... what you had just said ... I am unsure if you understand the profound importance or significance of what you have just said."
"Do you not agree with my position?"
"Your father once thought as you, young pup. But it was long ago; before he became High King."
"It seems right to me, Bors."
Bors sighed. "I am ... not surprised."
"You have never told me about those days, Bors. Before he became High King and began his decline into illness. You knew him before, yet you have never wished to speak of that time. Why today?"
Bors shrugged. "Tonight is your eleven year Birth Celebration. Perhaps it is time. What you just said, young pup ... reminded me of him. For a moment, I had even thought I had heard Uther speaking. You are ... not unlike how he once was."
"You admired him."
"There was a time, yes."
"But you do not think he is the same man, anymore."
Bors sighed, again. "Young pup, I once admired your father. There was even a time; though I dared not confess it to any other, where I once thought Uther might have made for a better king than his brother, Ambrosius. And I had thought very highly of Ambrosius. But your father ... there was something ... different about Uther."
"You did tell me once, long ago when I was small and you were putting me down to sleep, that my father risked his life in a very dangerous effort to clear a waterway in order to save many thousands of lives."
Bors smiled. "I had thought you were asleep when I spoke those words."
"I was awake enough to hear them. There were in fact, many such times when you had said good things about my father while you thought I was sleeping. I think ... it was your way of letting me know that you had once thought highly of my father and that you once thought he was a good man."
"I am sorry, young pup. But I do not believe that man exists, anymore. That man died with your mother."
*** *** ***
Later that night, it was Arthur's Birth Celebration dinner; after which Cook had already gone to bed after a long day of cooking and baking. Besides Arthur and Bors, also present were Arthur's three closest friends, Frederick, Accolon and Sagremor.
Cook had made an extra cake.
As Bors refilled their tankards for the third time, Arthur was still working on his first.
"Are you going to finish it this time?" Accolon teased.
"I am working on it." Arthur grinned. "See? I am nearly halfway done. I may even be ready for a refill, later. Maybe."
"Nay, young pup." Bors chuckled. "Perhaps next year for your twelve Birth Celebration. But this night you shall be limited to one."
"Awww..."
"We cannot have you under the influence, my Prince."
"Will you stop calling me that? My name is Arthur."
Bors winked and took another long draught from his own tankard.
"Speaking of being under the influence..." Sagremor grinned at Frederick.
"It is true." Frederick replied with a
sheepish smile.
"Do you really intend to take a wife?"
"I do. I have already paid her Brideprice and accepted arrangements for dowry. Tomorrow I ride to Cameliard and shall complete her purchase and bring Katelyn back as wife."
"You have stolen the handmaiden of a Princess." Accolon teased. "I trust her price was not too rich for your purse?"
"Fortunately Katelyn comes from a peasant family. The Brideprice was within my means."
"I cannot believe the Princess of Cameliard has let her go so cheaply." Arthur teased.
Bors smiled and shook his head. "The price is dictated by the girl's father, young pup; not by the Princess."
"The fact that she had been the handmaiden to the Princess did add a premium to her price, however." said Frederick. "For a peasant farmer, her father received a handsome price for his daughter."
"A handmaiden to a Princess." Sagremor grinned. "Well done, Frederick. One can almost overlook that you have chosen a wife from a lower caste. Nay, what am I saying? We shall NEVER overlook that you have married beneath your station. Nor shall we ever let you forget it." Sagremor teased.
Frederick smiled at Arthur. "Have you ever met the Princess? Katelyn introduced me to her. She is only nine years of age, but already I can see she shall be worth a King's ransom in gold."
"I have ... almost met Guinevere once; when her father and mother once visited us many years ago. She was less than three years of age at the time. She was timid and remained hidden behind her father."
"You should see her now." Frederick winked. "In three or four years, I suspect there shall be a long line of suitors."
Arthur shrugged. "I recall her mother was pretty."
Bors chuckled. "I recall our young prince had a crush on Queen Anice."
"I DID NOT!"
"Eh. You were only five years of age. There is no shame in that."
"You may wish to get in line for Guinevere, early." Frederick teased. "Before some other suitor purchases her out from under you."
"I am eleven years of age. What possible use could I have for a woman or a wife? I care nothing for such things."
"You DO understand what women are for, do you not?" teased Sagremor.
"Yes! I know all about ... that! Mostly."
"Oh, this sounds interesting. Please, do tell us about ... that."