‘Excellent. Wynard you will assume control of Harnax’s cavalry units and station them just outside the gates. I want this wolf caged before he does any more harm to his country or king. My personal guard and the General Staff will join me up on the ramparts,’ Macin ordered as he swept from the room, then added. ‘And somebody attend to Ellow!’
The king and his staff road to the gates of the city and pushed past the throngs of people moving through the streets. The news of the units return traveled like wildfire and the excitement was palpable. Children danced and sang as women braided flowers in one another's hair. Guard members stationed in the city brushed and straightened their uniforms. Garland and flowers were strung across the mouth of the gates and strewn before the entryway. Young men and boys laughed and wrestled calling ‘The Orphans!’ back and forth to one another.
Everyone Macin passed on his way to the gate, grew subdued and stopped their revelry. However, once the king was out of sight, their passion returned twofold. Macin leapt from his horse and climbed the rampart steps two at a time, followed by his entourage.
The city’s wall was crowded with Guardians both on and off duty. They immediately snapped to attention at the presence of their king. Macin moved across an arching causeway that spanned the gate opening. There he found the sergeant of the guard, Sergeant Deling, and demanded a report.
‘There’s little to report, sire.’ stated the sergeant. ‘A half an hour ago several scouts alerted us to the return of one of our units.’
‘And they haven’t reached the city yet? This Brelg holds back to build the anticipation of his followers!’ growled Macin.
The king looked down the outer edge of the city’s walls. Wynard’s cavalry units were stationed on either side of the gate.
‘Wynard!’ called the king. ‘Move your units along either side of the road. These men will be treated as prisoners not given an honor guard!’
Wynard barked some orders to his men and immediately the cavalry swung out in front of the gates, lining both sides of the road. Macin paced the archway muttering to himself. The General Staff stood by silently as their eyes scanned the horizon. Ellow returned with a bloody towel clutched to his head. He scowled at the other staff members as he stepped in front of the king.
‘A minor flesh wound your highness. I was caught unaware,’ offered Ellow.
Macin strode past the general distractedly.
‘Yes, yes Ellow. See to it,’ said Macin with a flip of his hand.
A cry went up from the taller buildings just inside the gate.
‘The Orphans! The Orphans return!’
The crowd roared in approval and pushed on the throng crowded just inside the gates. Macin spun and surveyed the horizon. Several leagues from the gate, the road rose to meet a small ridgeline. Swirling over that rise, a dust cloud grew. The crowd attempted to push through the gate and out onto the road. Others climbed the city wall and joined the soldiers on the ramparts. Macin turned on the sergeant of the guard.
‘You will keep this mob under control or be relieved of duty, Sergeant Deling!’ barked Macin.
The sergeant saluted and ran down to the gates ordering the soldiers to move the throng back into the city. The people climbed to the ramparts cheering. In some cases, soldiers reached down to help women and children reach the top of the wall. The windows of the buildings were jammed with wellwishers. A chant of ‘The Orphans! The Orphans!’ was picked up in the streets and carried to the parapets. The dust cloud grew thicker and larger but approached slowly. Ellow slid up behind the king’s ear.
‘He intends to bear down on the city in full glory, your highness. This loafer means to capture the imagination of the people and steal their loyalty. Supplanting you in their hearts,’ whispered Ellow.
The roar of the crowd was nearly deafening as the dust cloud came within three hundred yards and shapes emerged from the haze. They moved slowly. Some on horseback and others walking. Loaded wagons creaked along amidst the riders and marchers. As the dust cleared, a hush fell over the roaring crowd.
Brelg led the unit, sitting atop a staggering warhorse, gaunt from undernourishment. Periodically, the sergeant turned the beast and ambled back amongst his troops shouting words of encouragement. The injured filled the wagons. In some cases, eight men shared the tiny carts with one another. Those marching were the most fit. Cefiz led his warhorse, which carried a severely injured comrade upon it. Fully two-thirds of the unit were injured or incapacitated in some way.
The city lay silent as the troops passed between Wynard’s cavalry unit. A cavalryman sprang from his horse and threw the arm of a staggering soldier over his shoulder.
‘You there! Get back in your ranks......’ Macin’s voice trailed off.
Wynard leapt from his horse and grabbed the other arm of a soldier being supported by a comrade. Macin said nothing. Brelg stopped the unit within tens yards of the gate. He sat swaying from exhaustion on his horse. Macin surveyed the group. Brelg looked older. His matted hair was streaked in gray. A grizzled, wiry beard covered his face. New scars marred his features. The heavy breastplate he wore showed signs of abuse. Dotted with dents, it also sported two large gashes near the right shoulder. Cefiz moved up to stand beside his commander. The defiant young man glared at the king and his General Staff. A wound caked in dried blood ran across his brow. Macin searched the group and found his son standing toward the back. Manfir held the tether of a draft horse in one hand. The other arm hung uselessly in a sling. Brelg stood in his stirrups and gazed up to the crowded archway. He saluted sharply.
‘Sergeant Brelg and the 75th Lancers reporting as ordered your highness,’ stated Brelg, using the official name of his unit.
Macin stood on the archway with his arms folded, chewing his lower lip. The crowd remained hushed during the long pause. Finally, Brelg found the sergeant of the guard standing amongst the throng at the gate.
‘Sergeant Deling, I request permission to enter the city,’ said Brelg.
Deling stepped out and stared up to the king. Again, Macin stood gazing distractedly at the scene below him. Ellow edged forward toward the king, but several strong hands from the General Staff locked onto his arms and drew him backward. Deling spun back toward his soldiers and barked orders.
‘Asmir! Get to the infirmary and inform them we receive casualties. Lomin! To the Hold quickly and clear barracks three and four of its occupants! I want bunks and billets prepared for these men immediately,’ said Deling as he spun back toward Brelg. ‘75th Lancers! Welcome home!’
The crowd roared in approval. Cavalrymen jumped from their steeds and relieved their weary comrades of their burdens. The throng pushed through the gate and lifted Brelg’s troops onto their shoulders and carried them into the city. Brelg rigidly stood in his saddle, staring at Macin above. The crowd gathered up his soldiers and pushed past him back into the city. The king’s eyes drifted toward Brelg and their gazes locked. Macin blinked, shook his head and spun on his heals toward the steps down to the streets below.
‘I will see Sergeant Brelg within the hour in my chambers!’ shouted Macin over his shoulder and he swept down the stairway.
Manfir refused to be carried away by the revelers as they swept out of the city. The troops in his cart were some of the more gravely injured soldiers in Brelg’s unit and he was bound and determined to see they received proper care. As the rickety cart creaked through the city streets, women and children approached to lay bouquets of flowers in the injured men’s hands and offer words of praise and encouragement. Often they turned to Manfir saying,’The Creator bless you, young man.’
The prince left the city the handsome young heir to the throne, and returned a hardened, weathered, unrecognized veteran of the border wars. Manfir finished helping the last of his injured mates into the infirmary and turned into the rapidly clearing streets. He stood trying to decide his next course of action. Should he return to the palace and report to his father, or return to the Hold with his comrades? He stagger
ed down the near empty streets with no particular destination in mind. Now and again a man or woman passed him and smiled warmly, recognizing his tattered and bloody uniform. However, none greeted him as a prince of the realm. Weariness crept over him and he stopped and chuckled. A stranger and unknown in the capital city of the great nation he would one day rule. That was true irony.
A strange satisfaction came over him. A sense of freedom grabbed hold. Never before had he been able to walk these streets alone. Crowds had formed whenever he visited the market. His movements between the palace and the Hold always caused a stir in the streets. Young women rose to their feet when he passed and brushed their dresses flat with their hands. The people had greeted him warmly and he always returned the greeting with the same, but he liked this recent transformation. A soldier in the Guard. A warrior. A friend and comrade in arms.
Suddenly, he sensed he was not alone. Was someone there, listening to these reflections within him? His head shot up and scanned the streets ahead and behind. They were empty. Manfir laughed again and headed toward the Hold. After three steps, he noted movement in an alleyway to his left. An old man stood in the shadows leaning heavily upon a wooden staff. The colorful garb of tinkers covered the peculiar vagabond. A wizened, rough face with a weeks worth of snow-white stubble smiled at him from across the street. Manfir returned the smile and bowed his head. The tinker bowed in return and beckoned Manfir toward him. The young man felt oddly at ease as he accepted the invitation.
Brelg was given no time to wash the dust of the trail from his body or his throat. He arrived at the Hold and immediately set to making his troops comfortable and provided for. Officers were eager to greet him, and several members of the General Staff arrived to gather intelligence on the enemy. With minimal time left to fulfill the order of the king, he stepped from the Hold and grabbed a fresh mount from the stables. Within minutes he arrived at the palace and presented himself to Macin’s aides.
Brelg was required to wait several minutes before he was brought before Macin. The sergeant rose as a page called him forward. The boy opened the doors of the king’s chamber and announced Brelg’s presence to the assembly. Macin sat on his throne at the opposite end of the hall. Brelg marched forward down a carpeted runway flanked by members of the General Staff and the leading nobles in King Macin’s court. He halted three yards from the throne and addressed the king.
‘Your highness, I present myself as ordered.’
‘Very well, sergeant. I called you here to discuss what it is I’m to do with you,’ said Macin shifting awkwardly in his seat. ‘Serious accusations of misconduct were leveled against you. Are you prepared to face them?’
‘Yes, Sire.’ answered Brelg.
Macin glanced about the room, looking for support, then slowly stood and wrung his hands. Ellow kept himself invisible, hiding behind several larger generals.
‘There are those who say you needlessly waste the supplies and manpower of this great land. The lifeblood of our people,’ stated Macin.
‘Yes,’ stated Brelg as a murmur spread through the audience. ‘The lifeblood of this great nation is being wasted.’
‘You admit your treachery?’ shouted Macin.
‘Punish the traitor, your highness!’ bellowed Ellow as he pushed through the generals. ‘He’s a coward and a traitor!’
A weary Brelg turned and smiled at Ellow.
‘Sir, we haven’t met, yet you feel familiar enough with me to hurl insult and slander in front of my country and king. I don’t know you by sight, but information I possess allows me to make an educated guess. I’ll wager you’re General Ellow. Correct?’
‘That’s correct, Brelg,’ snarled Ellow. ‘And one bit of information I’m certain you possess is my rank in the Guard and my position as a trusted advisor to his Majesty King Macin III. You’ll mind your tongue and address me with due respect.’
‘Trusted advisor or not, if you’re the same General Ellow whose mercenaries sell stores and weapons to Keltar soldiers, I’ll gut you here and now,’ said Brelg squaring off in front of the general.
Ellow immediately backed behind the generals, but they stepped aside to expose him.
‘The lifeblood of this great nation has been wasted,’ began Brelg. ‘I’m a king’s man, and will defend my homeland with my life, but I don’t need to like the way in which we do it. A greater and greater tax is put upon the people to pay for their defense against Ulrog Hackle and Keltaran soldier alike. The burden on farmer, herdsman and tradesman is so great they barely feed their families. The people become slaves to the army, and the army becomes slaves to the battle with our enemy. The Ulrog enslave us simply by fighting us.’
‘You admit defeat before we lose?’ shouted Macin as a murmur filled the room.
‘Absolutely not,’ shouted Brelg. ‘The fault doesn’t lie with the farmer or the soldier but with others. I’ll tell you the life of a soldier in the field. I’m allotted eight wagonloads of supplies, only to see three arrive at the rendezvous. New armor arrives that has obviously been scavenged from graves and old battlefields. My men are cut down by blades I swear were forged in Zodrian furnaces. I enter border towns to find draftsmen of questionable character spending freely at local taverns and boasting of their good fortune. Those cases where I prove materials went to the enemy result in immediate execution, but proof comes seldom and always too late.’
‘You try to shift the blame,’ snapped Macin. ‘I’m informed on the best authority that you, Brelg, divert these wagons and hoard these supplies. You try to undermine this nation and its king, and poison the minds of those that love him .... it.’
‘Sire,’ said Brelg calmly. ‘This information is false. Where it came from I can only surmise, but with all due respect, I don’t possess so devious a mind as to perpetrate such a plan. To return to you bedraggled and filthy in order to cover a privileged lifestyle is possible. However, if you tour the infirmary of the Hold, you’ll see troops with much greater problems than ragged clothing. Nine members of my unit alone have lost a limb in battle. Three are so malnourished they may not recover. A full two thirds of my force would be deemed battle insufficient in any other unit. To question the role that these men played in the defense of their country is an affront to their courage and honor!’
‘Here! Here!’ shouted many in attendance.
Macin’s eyes scanned the chamber.
‘Enough! Everyone save Brelg out!’ he shouted.
The chamber quickly cleared. Macin dropped heavily into his throne. He clasped his hands and buried his face within them. Without looking up he mumbled.
‘Brelg, what am I to do with you?’
‘I’m yours to command, sire,’ said Brelg.
‘Ha! Were it that easy,’ laughed Macin looking up. ‘I force a situation in which I cannot win.’
‘No situation is winless, sire. No outcome is predestined.’
The king’s face fell into his hands once more then he pulled his fingers through his hair. He mumbled to himself and cursed. Brelg stood rigidly at attention. The king shot out of his chair.
‘I refuse to let you marry my daughter!’ shouted Macin.
‘As my king commands,’ returned Brelg bowing low.
‘You’re beneath her. She was meant for a man of position and alliance. I’ll not allow her to marry a foot soldier!’ screamed Macin.
‘Yes, your highness,’ answered Brelg.
‘What do you mean “Yes, your highness”?’ snarled Macin. ‘Don’t pretend that you’re not ... involved with my daughter. Don’t pretend that you’re not keeping a clandestine relationship going against my will!’
‘I pretend nothing, your highness. I’ll not marry your daughter. You’re my king, but you’re first and foremost a father. If my heart were enraptured by the daughter of the baker and he forbade me her hand, I would honor his wishes. The blacksmith, the night watchman or a general in the Guards, the man’s station in life matters not over his position as father. A father will always act
in the best interests of his child and we must respect and honor that. We are nothing as a nation if we lose our honor, sire.’
Macin stared into Brelg’s eyes. His face grew troubled. The king turned and looked through an open window at his kingdom.
‘I see in your eyes that you truly believe what you say,’ Macin’s voice wavered. ‘I ..... I betrayed you.’
Macin turned and fell forward onto his knees covering his face in shame.
‘I ... I wanted you dead at the hands of the enemy,’ confessed Macin. ‘I hoped the Ulrog would remove you from my daughter’s world. I sacrificed the lives of men to make mine easier.
‘You talk of honor and respect. I own none of the former and deserve none of the latter. My actions trouble me and my thoughts betray me.’
Tears streamed down Macin’s cheeks as he knelt before Brelg sobbing.
‘When I ascended the throne I held a vision, Brelg. I dreamed of leading this nation into an era of peace and prosperity. My vision goes cloudy. I can’t even foster that peace within my own household let alone within this realm. I harden my heart to the people, my soldiers and my family in order to do what is best for Zodra. I try to bend the will of those I love in my direction and instead drive all I care for away from me.’
Macin paused.
‘I tried to murder you, Brelg,’ mumbled the king grimly. ‘I tried to murder you yet you stand here praising country and king. It’s you who earned the right to wear this trinket, not I.’
Macin pulled his gold crown from his head and let it fall to the ground.
‘I’m lost,’ groaned Macin sobbing into his hands. ‘Utterly lost.’
The doors to the chamber flew open and an old man dressed in colorful garb stepped before the king’s throne relying heavily upon a huge staff. He stood squinting at the scene before him, taking stock of it. He waved a hand in the direction of the king’s guard arrayed behind him and they immediately left the chamber. He stroked his white stubble with his free hand and nodded his head with a grunt of approval. Macin’s eyes rose and he glared at the tinker.
The Merchant and the Menace Page 19