Heirs at War (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 2)

by Peter Kenson

  “I hope I am not disturbing you, Lord David.”

  “It’s just David, my dear. Nobody else can hear us when we talk like this. And no, you are not disturbing me. I was just on my way to the market but I’m quite happy to sit here and talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “Oh can you show me where you are? Please,” Rachel pleaded.

  Once the fountains had been restarted, on the day of Jeren’s coronation, the irrigation system for the gardens had also come back into operation. The families living in the mansions that bordered the avenues had set to work and planted beds of flowers and ornamental shrubs. David slowly turned his head from left to right and allowed his mind to fill with the colours of the flowers, the sound of the fountains and the fragrant smell of the shrubs.

  “I am so jealous,” Rachel exclaimed. “I wish I could be there with you.”

  “I’m sure Jeren wishes you could be here too. But you didn’t contact me just to look at flowers and fountains. How can I help?”

  “I want to ask you a favour. Well, two favours actually. I want to get a load of supplies to the Resistance on Ystradis: weapons, spare parts, laser crystals, powercells, that sort of thing. But the Belsian navy has the planet blockaded and we cannot find a smuggler willing to take the risk. Not at any price.”

  “Not one?” David said in surprise. “I take it you’ve put the word out quite extensively.”

  “We’ve tried everyone that we know, David. I was hoping that you might have a wider circle of contacts in that area.”

  “Well I can certainly ask around but this feels wrong, totally wrong. There is no blockade that cannot be evaded. The Belsi proved that here on Marmoros. If there are no smugglers prepared to take the risk, it’s not due to the Belsian navy. There’s something else going on in the background that we don’t know about. Anyway, you said there were two favours.”

  “I want you to help us buy a warship.”

  “What, just like that? Those are expensive toys, Rachel. How deep is your purse?”

  “We are a spacefaring race, David, but we have no navy, neither commercial nor military. What little we did have was destroyed by the Belsi during the invasion and has never been replaced. I’m not looking for the latest hi-tech battleship but I want a symbol for my people. Something that gives them hope for the future; that tells them that we haven’t just given up and accepted the status quo. You find me a ship, David, and I will find a way of paying for it.”

  “Whoa, that was quite a speech, your Majesty,” David said, deliberately emphasising the formal title. “Okay, we can rule out the major shipyards. Having a ship built from scratch would not only cost too much, it would take too long. But we may be able to find something in the second-hand market that might suit your purpose. How do you want to do this?”

  “I want to see what I’m buying and I want to take Lord Dhamina, my War Minister, with me. Now I’ve been studying the specifications of your ship, the Salamander, and I calculate that you can get here to Rebus in just under three days to pick us up. Would that be all right with you, David?”

  David sat in stunned silence for several seconds and then burst into a fit of laughter that caused several passers-by to look at him in astonishment.

  “My dear Rachel,” he said when he had recovered himself sufficiently to frame a coherent thought. "I’m not going to ask how you obtained a copy of those specifications but I am certainly going to have a few words with the shipyard security officer. Make it four days. I shall have to make some arrangements to cover my tracks and I would like to initiate some enquiries about that other matter.”

  “Thank you, David. I know I’m imposing on you but I do appreciate it. And I will look forward very much, to seeing you in four days’ time.”

  David was still chuckling as he crossed the bridge over the canal and headed across the market towards the Golder’s shop. Outside the shop, a young boy of maybe eight or nine summers was anxiously scanning the crowd. As David approached, he made a formal bow that he had obviously been practising for some time.

  “Good afternoon, my lord. My name is Kaleb. My father is expecting you.”

  “Good afternoon, Kaleb,” David replied as he ducked under the lintel into the surprisingly well-lit shop.

  Aron Golder was sitting at a workbench but quickly got to his feet as David came in. “Lord Held, I am honoured by your visit. I know you are a busy man but before we start, there is someone here who would very much like to meet you again.”

  He pulled aside a curtain concealing the passage to the back of the house and called out. “My dear, Lord Held is here.”

  Miriam came through almost immediately with a small boy clinging to each hand, and bobbed a curtsey.

  “I just wanted to say thank you, my lord, for saving us that time, from Duke Henry’s soldiers. That’s all.”

  “Miriam, I am very pleased that my men got there in time to stop that dreadful attack. How are you feeling now?”

  She glanced nervously at Aron who gave her a nod of encouragement, before she replied.

  “I still don’t like to think about it, my lord, but every day that goes by, puts it further in the past. I’m not sure I will ever totally get over it but I have Aron and the boys to keep me busy and I thank you for their lives as much as my own.”

  With that she bobbed another curtsey and led the two small boys back behind the curtain.

  “She wanted to thank you in person, my lord,” Aron said when she had gone. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

  “Not at all, my friend. I was sorry that my men didn’t get there even sooner but glad that they arrived when they did.”

  “As am I, my lord. Now to business.”

  David pulled out the small purse that he had found in Manny’s chest when he first took over the company, and tipped the contents out onto the workbench. Aron seated himself behind the bench and invited David to sit the other side.

  “Rough emeralds, my lord, all except for this one. Worth something in their current state but worth a lot more if they were properly cut. What did you have in mind to do with them?”

  “To be honest, I’m not in urgent need of funds at the moment, so I would like to maximise the potential of these stones.”

  “Excellent. Let’s take a closer look then.”

  Aron produced a lens from under the bench and examined each stone in turn, separating them carefully into two piles as he worked. When he finished, he had a pile of four small stones on one side and a pile of seven somewhat larger stones on the other. He pointed first at the smaller pile.

  “These stones are flawed. I’m not saying they can’t be cut but it takes more skill, there’d be more waste and, at the end of the day, you’d be lucky to double your money. These, on the other hand,” he pointed to the other pile, “have only minor flaws. In the hands of a skilled cutter, their value could increase ten-fold.”

  “Okay, so let’s talk money. The flawed stones first.”

  “The best I could do would be forty talons, my lord. That’s ten talons per stone and I wouldn’t be doing myself any favours.”

  David nodded. “And the others?”

  “Ah, now these uncut, I would offer you two hundred talons. However, I do know a very skilled cutter who could prepare these stones beautifully. His fee would probably be between a hundred and a hundred and fifty talons. I could then sell the cut gems at a magnificent price for a modest commission of, say, forty percent.”

  “Twenty percent.”

  “My lord!”

  “Twenty five percent and you can have the flawed stones.”

  “Agreed. I shall have a contract drawn up and delivered to the palace tomorrow.”

  “Have the contract delivered to Marta Sharpstone, Commander Feynor’s wife, with instructions to safeguard it until I return. I may be away for several days.”

  “As you request, my lord.”

  “Good. Now tell me, where do these emeralds come from? Not from
round here?”

  “Oh no, my lord. There are no emerald mines around here. These are from the far south. By their colour, I’d say that most of these came from Gernia.”

  “All right. You set one stone aside. It is clearly not an emerald. Does it have any value?”

  “It has a certain rarity value, my lord. But it is not particularly attractive as a gemstone. I believe they were more common when we lived in Marmoros before. The local lads used to find them up in the hills, in the volcanic streams. I remember my father saying that more than one boy scalded himself badly, trying to fish them out.”

  “So this is a local stone, you say.”

  “Yes, my lord. From the volcanic streams.”

  “Your gem cutter. Could he cut this stone for me, if I gave him a specific pattern to follow?”

  “I’m sure he could, my lord. Do you have the pattern with you?”

  David fished in his pouch for a folded piece of paper and handed it over. Aron smoothed it out on the workbench and studied it. He then picked up the stone and examined it closely under the glass.

  “It’s an unusual design, my lord, but it fits the stone. However, I’m afraid you’ll lose money on the deal. The value of the cut stone will be less than the fee the cutter will charge.”

  “Let me worry about that. It can be done?”

  “Oh yes, my lord.”

  “And can it be done in secret?”

  “If you wish, my lord. There may be some additional expenses.”

  “There always are,” David smiled. “You are holding a substantial amount of value in those emeralds, which should cover any additional expenses. But I want this stone cut first, before any of the others and, when I return, I do not want to learn about it from anybody except you. I’m very serious about this, Aron. Don’t let me down.”

  “You can rely on my absolute discretion, my lord. It will be as you request.”

  ***

  Jeren offered Falaise his hand as they ascended the dais to take their seats. The audience chamber was large but it was filled to capacity, such was the interest in the case. All the noble lords had taken their seats along the sides, beneath their family crests. The body of the hall was filled with ordinary citizens, pressing forward to get the best view but held back by a double row of Jorgen’s redcloaks.

  In the empty space between the dais and the line of redcloaks, Lords Bardsley and Horn made an obeisance to the throne. Slightly behind and to their right, a very nervous looking merchant who Jeren rightly assumed to be Master Sargesson, made a clumsy attempt at a bow. Jeren signalled to Lord Grekan who called for order by slamming the heel of his staff onto the floor. When he could make himself heard, the chancellor ordered the guards to bring in Lady Marilyn and the adulterer Abel Sargesson.

  “Adulterer,” Jeren thought. “Convicted before he even comes to trial.”

  The murmurings among the crowd grew again as the guards escorted them in through a side door and Lord Grekan had to call for silence a second time before Jeren could begin.

  “I shall start with the issue of the marriage itself and then deal with the detail of the marriage contract. Lord Horn, do you wish this marriage to continue?”

  Horn looked across at Bardsley and then Marilyn before replying. “No, your Majesty.”

  “And are you prepared to swear on oath, that this marriage was never consummated?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “Lady Marilyn, do you wish this marriage to continue?”

  Marilyn raised her chin and looked directly at Jeren as she replied. “No, your Majesty.”

  “And are you prepared to swear on oath, that this marriage was never consummated?”

  “Most definitely, your Majesty.”

  There was some laughter from the crowd at this and Grekan slammed his staff against the floor again.

  “By the laws of our people, I have the power to annul a marriage if both parties consent and the marriage was never consummated. In light of the testimony before me, I hereby declare the marriage between Lord Egrerson Horn and Lady Marilyn Bardsley to be annulled.

  “Now to the matter of the marriage contract. The contract was entered into in good faith by both parties. While the terms of the contract have not been fulfilled, it is clear that Lord Horn is the injured party.”

  The guffaws of laughter were louder this time and it was several minutes before the chancellor could restore order, even with the help of the redcloaks.

  “Lady Falaise has offered to arbitrate in the matter of compensation for the failed contract, providing both parties agree. You do both agree, don’t you, my lords?”

  Bardsley and Horn looked at each other helplessly before nodding in agreement.

  “Good. Then that brings us on to matter of the adultery of Abel Sargesson.”

  “Your Majesty. If I may speak…”

  Jeren looked a trifle surprised as Marilyn stepped forward but signalled her to continue.

  “It is my understanding, your Majesty, that if a marriage is annulled, it is as if it has never happened. Is that correct?”

  Jeren looked at Grekan who nodded in agreement. “Yes, that is so.”

  “In that case, your Majesty, as I have never been married to Lord Horn, the question of adultery does not arise. I would ask that the charge against Abel Sargesson be withdrawn.”

  The court erupted in a riot of sound with both Bardsley and Horn trying to make themselves heard against a background of laughter and catcalls from the crowd. Grekan was furiously stamping his staff on the floor but nobody paid the slightest attention. Eventually, he signalled to Jorgen to clear the court.

  “Wait a minute, Captain,” Jeren said, getting up from the throne and raising both hands in the air. The crowd began to quieten as a few noticed Jeren standing there and nudged their neighbours. When the hall was once again silent, he lowered his hands and placed them on his hips.

  “Thank you. People of Marmoros, this is an open court which I hope you will always be welcome to attend. However, I must ask you to respect the fact that it is a court and not a public theatre. When we are finished, you will all be free to discuss the merits of the case in one of the local taverns but you will not do so here in my court, while the case is still being heard. Is that understood?”

  There were a few shamefaced looks and some shuffling of feet among the audience but nobody spoke as Jeren resumed the throne.

  “Oh, and if somebody tells me which tavern you’re going to, I may well join you.”

  That provoked another bout of laughter and some cheers, hastily suppressed as Grekan called for order once more.

  “Now then,” Jeren addressed the two lords, “do either of you wish to challenge the legal point that Lady Marilyn has made?”

  “Yes well, she didn’t know she wasn’t married at the time the liaison took place,” Horn muttered. “Their behaviour was certainly immodest, if not adulterous, and it has tarnished the good name of my family.”

  “All valid points, my lord. But they don’t affect the fact that Lady Marilyn was not legally married. However, if you feel that the behaviour of the Sargesson boy has offended you, then I suggest you take it up directly with his family. So, if there is nothing else…” Jeren looked at Grekan who shook his head.

  “Then the charge of adultery against Abel Sargesson is dismissed. Guards, release the prisoner.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty,” Marilyn said as one of the guards removed the manacles from Abel’s hands.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You have caused a great deal of trouble and inconvenience. I will speak to the two of you privately once the court has been cleared.”

  The hall was emptying rapidly now that the excitement was over but, through the open doors, Jeren could see little knots of people happily discussing the events of the afternoon, as they hurried away. He helped Falaise down from the dais as Grekan approached with another sheaf of papers in his hand.

  “Nothing fu
rther today, my lord,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

  Grekan frowned but bowed and turned away. Jeren looked at where Marilyn and Abel were standing, hand in hand.

  “Right you two. You come with us and we’ll find somewhere a little more private. We’re going to discuss your future.”

  Chapter 16 – Puerto Reis

  The party making its way back from Count Leonid’s palace, was very subdued. Angelo strode on ahead, his face grim as he thought about the possible consequences of the challenge he had accepted. Seb and Teresa walked quietly together, their arms around each other’s waist. Only Sergio Ramirez and Isabella made any attempt at polite conversation. Seb had tried to apologise to Angelo for his role in the afternoon’s events but had been silenced by a wave of the hand.

  “Save it until we get home, my boy. And when we get there, do not even attempt to apologise for defending my daughter’s honour. It is no more than I would expect from a future son-in-law.”

  Maria was waiting for them as they walked through the gates, the worry evident on her face. She came running over to wrap both Seb and Teresa in a tearful embrace. Angelo put his arm round her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  “There, there, my dear. It’s all over and we’re all quite safe. For now,” he added, looking over at Ramirez.

  Isabella excused herself and hurried over to where Semi was standing with the baby in her arms leaving Sergio standing on his own.

  “I’ll leave you to your family, old friend,” he said with a bow.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Angelo retorted. “You’ll stay for dinner and help us celebrate our daughter’s engagement. And then you’re going to explain exactly how you’re going to prevent my future son-in-law from being spitted on the end of Don Rodriguez’ sword. I may not be a believer in long engagements but I would like it to last more than two weeks.”