“A Seneschal’s best is not good enough,” retorted Lord Ridak. “Just making sure that Fardale has a Lord is not adequate. The contracts for grain must be filled or the Situ will face ruin. Lord Lashendo had enough problems fulfilling the contracts before this affair with the Chula. Now the workers will be looking over their shoulders while they plant the grain. Nothing will be accomplished by putting a stooge in control of Fardale. I need a solution which will accomplish a miracle.”
“Well,” sighed Grefon, “whatever the solution is, Cortain Marak must lead his men out there in the morning. I will not have Fardale under the control of a Squad Leader because that is no control at all. Regardless of the Vows of Service, you will have men leaving their posts if there is not a speedy response from Lituk Valley.”
“Of course,” agreed Lord Ridak. “Send them in the morning. When I find my candidate for Lord of Fardale we will send another Corte to escort the Lord and reinforce them.”
“They are not lacking for men,” reminded Grefon, “only leaders. Sending another Corte is a waste of men and I do not wish to deplete our own strength that much. Cortain Marak should leave in the morning, but he should also be escorting the new Lord of Fardale.”
“I cannot just conjure a Lord out of thin air!” Lord Ridak yelled. “I must have time to find the right candidate, if there is such a person. I will give the new Lord absolute powers concerning Fardale, but I must find someone who can salvage those contracts. Wernik and Caruko are the only men I can think of, but they already know too much about the Chula to be immune to the fear and Wernik is probably too old, anyway.”
“Meeting the contracts will require that the Chula be conquered,” reminded the Lord Marshal. “Lord Lashendo was quite clear that they needed the additional land if they had any chance of fulfilling the contracts.”
“I thought your new Cortain, here, was going to take care of the Chula,” barked Lord Ridak. “We just need someone who can motivate the workers and Army to perform better than they ever have.”
“Cortain Marak was going to be the bait sent into Sitari Valley,” clarified Grefon. “His Corte is not going to invade the Chula and defeat them alone and the Fardale contingent will be reticent to return to Sitari Valley and leave the estate unprotected.”
Marak watched the verbal sparring between his two superiors and tried to detach himself from it. He understood the problems Lord Ridak faced, but he could not believe that the Situ did not have at least a score of eligible candidates for the position. If all that was required was motivating the workers . . .
“I have a suggestion,” interrupted Cortain Marak.
Lord Ridak and Lord Marshal Grefon halted their conversation and turned to the young Cortain.
“Send my Corte out to Fardale in the morning,” Marak began. “I will go as your acting Lord and motivate the Army and workers to do whatever is necessary to bring in the crop on time.”
“You insolent little clova,” berated Lord Ridak. “You are barely untied from your mother and you think you can be a Lord? Do you think you will just walk in and wave your sword and all of the work will get done? I don’t think you are even ready to wear your new yellow plume, never mind solving the world’s problems.”
“Leave us,” ordered the Lord Marshal. “Go wait for me in my study.”
Marak saluted and marched out of the Meeting Chamber. Lord Ridak turned his fury on Grefon. “You pushed me to promote that young insolent child,” scolded Lord Ridak. “I think the best use of him is in the fields with his lying mother.”
“Perhaps,” smiled Grefon, “the young insolent Cortain is exactly what we need.”
Lord Ridak looked at his Lord Marshal with puzzlement in his eyes. “I have seen that look of yours before, Grefon. I have the feeling you are about to solve our problems by sacrificing a young clova to the slaughter pens.”
“A possibility,” admitted the smiling Lord Marshal. “Marak does have a certain ability to motivate people and we are sending him to Fardale anyway. Let him go as the new Lord of Fardale. His Corte will bring stability to the Army and the people will feel that we are deeply concerned. He will attempt to bring in the crops and fail miserably, but . . . we will appeal to the contract holders and blame the problem on his youth. If they are not satisfied, we will offer to have the Lord of Fardale executed for his miserable performance. This will show the contract holders the sincerity of the Situ and our desire to see them properly served.”
“That just might work,” smiled Lord Ridak, “ especially if everyone thinks that he is like a son to me. I won’t have to actually state that, but everyone will get the idea.”
“At the very least,” added Grefon, “his short term as Lord will bring stability to Fardale and provide you with the time you need to find the right replacement.”
“This demonstrates one of the reasons I like you,” chuckled Lord Ridak. “You do have a knack for turning problems into opportunities. Have the papers drawn up immediately. We will have a ceremony at dawn and send our new Lord off to Fardale.”
“I will draw the papers up myself,” grinned Grefon. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll personally bring the papers to your suite when they are ready.”
Lord Ridak smiled and nodded as he pranced off to bed, warm with the feeling of a successful answer to a puzzling riddle. Lord Marshal Grefon strode to his study and found Marak reading a book. Marak jumped to attention as Grefon entered.
“I am sorry if I overstepped my position, Lord Marshal,” Marak said quickly.
“Nonsense, Cortain,” smiled Grefon. “Your suggestion was a good one. Lord Ridak sometimes has trouble seeing the potential of our young officers. I discussed your idea with the Lord after you left and he agrees with me. In the morning you shall be the new Lord of Fardale. I am to draw up the papers right now.”
“Are you serious?” gasped Marak. “Lord Ridak is really going to make me the acting Lord?”
“Not acting,” laughed Grefon. “You will be the new young Lord of Fardale with all of the rights and privileges due a Lord. As soon as I finish this document I will present it to Lord Ridak and you will be the Lord. The ceremony will be rushed, of course, because you must get to Fardale as soon as possible.”
Marak’s head spun with giddiness. He had felt such a fool the moment those words had left his lips and Lord Ridak’s tirade shortly after didn’t help. He thought he was going to be reprimanded and stripped of his yellow plume, but now he was going to be a Lord with unlimited powers.
“Of course,” smiled Marak, “don’t forget to put in the clause about absolute powers.”
Lord Marshal Grefon stopped writing and stared at the young Cortain. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“Lord Ridak declared that the new Lord of Fardale would have absolute powers,” stated Marak. “I think they will be necessary to ensure that the crops come in.”
“I don’t think that is necessary,” declared the Lord Marshal. “The normal powers of a Lord should be sufficient.”
“To neglect the absolute powers clause would be to damage Lord Ridak's word,” reminded Marak. “He has made the statement and it is for him to refute it.”
The Lord Marshal clenched his fist and broke his writing instrument. He knew he had to either put the clause in or scrap his plan for Marak to be Lord. He was amazed that Marak would insist on the wording of his proclamation. The young man should be thrilled to even be considered for such a position and, yet, he was gambling on getting everything he wanted.
“If you push too far,” snapped Grefon, “you may end up with nothing.”
“Would it be too far to ask that my mother accompany me to Fardale?” asked Marak.
“Yes!” shouted Grefon. “It would. I will insert your clause of absolute rule because it really means little and the Lord will be sleepy when he signs it, but I will add nothing else. All absolute rule gives you is the opportunity to make Fardale issue Vows of Service to you as their Lord, instead of to Lord Ridak. You
must still maintain your Vows of Service to Lord Ridak, so its only purpose is to infuriate Lord Ridak, but I will add it. Now leave me. Go get some sleep and I will send someone to awaken you for the ceremony.”
Lord Marshal Grefon watched in anger as Marak left his study. His plan would work equally well with any young officer, but Lord Ridak was already sold on the idea of sending Marak and he did not want to chance a change of the Lord’s mind. He quickly finished the pronouncement and walked to the Lord’s suite. Lord Ridak was already asleep as he thought he would be, but he did not mind being awakened to sign the document. Lord Ridak did not even glance at the pronouncement and Grefon was happy he did not have to argue about the added clause.
Grefon smiled as he walked back to his suite. All things considered, everything had worked out rather well. Grefon desired to retire to Fardale and retirement as a Lord would be grand. He would have jumped at the chance brought on by Lord Lashendo’s death, except for his knowledge that the contracts for this year could not be filled. He had planned to propose himself as a replacement for the Lord of Fardale, but only after Lashendo failed on the contracts. Lord Lashendo’s death nearly destroyed those dreams. If Lord Ridak had an able replacement ready, Grefon’s hopes would have been dashed. Pleased with the events of the evening, Lord Marshal Grefon reclined on the couch in his study to catch a few winks before the quickly approaching dawn.
Grefon felt like he had just closed his eyes when a servant woke him. He rubbed his eyes and looked out of the window to the gray sky of morning. He also saw Marak talking with his mother. No doubt he wanted his mother to witness the ceremony this morning. He quickly scribbled a note to the Seneschal, pleased that this was the last time he would have to interfere in her work schedule. Unlike that old fool, Koors, Grefon had learned long ago that small things, which cost you nothing, often gained the undying gratitude of the masses. Marak would have his mother watching him be raised to the status of Lord of Fardale. The ceremony would be short and she would be back in the fields before Marak was on his horse.
Grefon grabbed the pronouncement and the note to the Seneschal and left his study. He hailed a servant and sent his note on its way. Another servant ran to inform the guards to awaken the camp for the ceremony. The Lord Marshal moved to the small dining room in which he shared breakfast with Lord Ridak every morning. Lord Ridak was in a happy mood although he had little sleep. Grefon was even happier. By fall, Lord Marshal Grefon would be Lord Grefon of Fardale and heir to the Situ Clan.
Breakfast was a hurried affair of goose eggs and fried bread. Lord Ridak always had two glasses of lituk juice with breakfast, his and Grefon’s. Grefon absolutely hated the bitter juice and would be happy if he never saw another glass of it as long as he lived. Grefon rose to hurry to the porch, knowing his leaving the table would hurry Lord Ridak along.
The soldiers of the Situ Army stood in formation to hear whatever pronouncement the Lord intended to make this morning. Grefon smiled when he saw the horses for Marak’s Corte already waiting for the ceremony to be over. The Lord Marshal read the first paragraph of the pronouncement, which contained the appointment. The whole document was never read at these pronouncement ceremonies and they were always drafted with the first paragraph containing the address that was to be given.
Grefon smiled at the mass of amazed faces before him. Evidently, Marak had been a good little boy and had not even told his old friend, Tagoro. Marak walked up to Lord Ridak and the Lord embraced him like a favorite son. There were audible gasps from the ranks and the Lord Marshal could not help chuckling. Lord Ridak handed one copy of the pronouncement to the new Lord of Fardale and kissed him on both cheeks. The soldiers sang out the traditional recital appropriate for a new Lord of the Situ Clan and the ceremony was over.
The Lord Marshal made sure that he was the first to congratulate the new Lord of Fardale and then released him to the waiting throng. Marak was amazed at the enthusiastic response from his fellow soldiers, but his footsteps led to his mother. He wanted to say goodbye to her just before he left. On his way to his mother, Marak caught a glimpse of the Lord Marshal talking to Squad Leader Rybak and knew what they were discussing. Rybak was to be Grefon’s spy at Fardale and would gleefully report Marak’s failures back to the Lord Marshal.
Marak made it to his mother as Tagoro instructed the Corte soldiers to mount up. Marak hugged his mother and promised to get her out of the fields somehow. He wasn’t sure whether his mother’s tears were tears of joy or sorrow as he kissed her goodbye. Her hand reached into his shirt and felt for the necklace and a smile broke out on her lips as she touched it.
“Do well, my son, the Lord,” Glenda cried. “Treat your people well and they will do anything for you. Remember that.”
“I will remember those words on your lips until you join me in Fardale,” Marak promised. “And I will heed them forever. Goodbye, Mother.”
Marak tore himself away and joined his Corte. He gazed back at her as he rode along the path to the main gate. Once outside the main gate, Marak called for Squad Leader Zorkil to join him. Zorkil was not sure how to react to Marak. The man was Zorkil’s military superior and his new Lord.
“Lord Marak,” Squad Leader Zorkil asked, “how do I address you? Do I salute because you are my Cortain or do I bow because you are My Lord?”
“Squad Leader Zorkil,” laughed Marak, “I do not know, either. I would presume that when we are in military formation, you should treat me as your Cortain and when we are not, you will treat me as your Lord. Things are going to be difficult for all of us, Zorkil. How you address me will seem unimportant when we start to tackle the problems of Fardale. We have a long journey ahead of us and I want you to tell me as much as you can about Fardale. Do not try to color the people or events, but give me the barest truth, particularly where the news is bad. I mean to make Fardale a shining example for the whole nation of Khadora and I am going to need all of the help I can get.”
“As you wish, My Lord,” replied Zorkil. “If I may ask, are you Lord Ridak’s son? He seems to display a great deal of affection for you.”
“No,” answered Marak, “I barely know the man. I suspect our good Lord expects us to fail in Fardale. I do not know how he expects to profit from our failure, but I do know that he is going to be sorely disappointed because I do not intend to fail.”
“I do not know where to begin,” sighed Zorkil. “Fardale was not in good shape before the Chula started to cause trouble. Our yield from the fields gets less every season. That is why Lord Lashendo was trying to clear the Sitari Valley. People are unhappy about many things. The Seneschal and Bursar are both very old. Seneschal Pito doesn’t leave his room on most days, so there is no one to watch the mansion help. Bursar Tachora was known as a brilliant man, but even Lord Ridak knows that he is long past time for pasture. Most of the Army is old and cast off from other estates. I often think that Fardale is like a retirement estate for the other Lords. They send someone who is no longer efficient to Fardale and it counts as a contribution to the Situ Clan, the same as if they sent young men to serve in Lord Ridak’s Army.”
“You are not that old,” Marak observed. “How did you come to Fardale?”
“I married a woman whose father is a smith at Fardale,” answered Zorkil. “She did not want to leave her father and I had no family ties at River’s Bend, so I requested a move to Fardale and got it. I think the older men of the Army may have trouble accepting you as our Cortain or Lord. That may very well be your first obstacle. The men may feel that their first allegiance is to Lord Ridak and then to the Lord of Fardale. If Lord Ridak is expecting you to fail, they may help him. The Chula will be another major problem. The Army will use your young age as a reason to refuse to follow you back to Sitari Valley. Your age will not really have anything to do with it. They are afraid to go back there and I do not blame them. If an enemy can sneak into a well-guarded camp and kill all of the officers, you do not want to face them in their own forest. Every group who has tried is
dead.”
“I admire you for exposing your fears to me,” stated Marak. “Why do you trust me when you do not know me?”
“I don’t know, My Lord,” answered Zorkil. “Perhaps a lot of small things. I saw the way you handled yourself last night and compare it to the way Lord Ridak handled himself. I saw the way your men felt truly happy for you this morning and the way your slave mother was loved by her son. Also, the way you are talking to me now indicates that you really want to help the people of Fardale. You could have accepted what Lord Ridak told you to do, but, instead, you want to understand what the problems are. Everything about you indicates that you are going to make life better in Fardale if you can accomplish it. That does not mean you will succeed, but you have my willful help just for the asking.”
“Thank you,” accepted Marak. “A miracle starts with believing and you are my first. I am going to need your help to influence the others to actively work to solve our problems. Now, start with the very basics. I want to know each of the crops grown in Fardale, how they are doing this year, why they are performing the way they are. Then I want to know about the organization of the Army. Every name that you can think of and that person's characteristics. I will not remember them all, but I will absorb as much as I can.”
Squad Leader Zorkil spent the entire journey chattering in Marak’s ear. At certain times, Marak took notes and scribbled suggestions for actions to be taken later. Towards the end of the journey Marak began to sense the immense proportions of the task ahead of him. Lord Lashendo was an experienced ruler and he had failed to overcome Fardale’s problems, but Marak did not lose hope. He was committed to making Fardale work better than anyone had ever envisioned.
Chapter 7
Young Lord
As Marak’s Corte got close to Fardale, he called the column to a halt.
“Squad Leaders,” Marak shouted, “assemble your men before me.”
Young Lord of Khadora Page 8