“The boy was guilty, there’s no doubt of that,” said Bishop Belasco, “but I don’t think there’s any malice. He didn’t fight, didn’t try to run, didn’t lie, admitted everything freely. Were the matter to come before my court, I would give a light sentence. Maybe a term of forced labor for the owner of the animals. But hanging? No. The boy wanted to feed his sick aunt. He’s no bloody-handed brigand.” He scowled. “The problem is that Abbot Caldorman thinks that he is too high and mighty. His monastery ought to be subject to the bishop of Castarium.”
“But Castarium had no bishop when St. Bartholomew was founded,” said Ridmark, “and so the monastery is subject to the archbishop of Tarlion.”
“Aye, you see the difficulty,” said Belasco.
“And in my opinion,” said Sir Longinus, “the abbot is giving himself lordly airs. He thinks that just because the heir to the throne is one of his novices, he can do whatever he likes.”
Silence answered him.
“We had best not discuss that yet,” said Ridmark. “It is a sensitive matter.”
There was an understatement.
“Sir Valmark,” said Calliande, changing the topic, “of late, we have heard rumors of bands of red orcs attacking the coast near Cintarra. Are there any truth to those rumors?”
“If there are, my lady, I have not seen them,” said Valmark. He gestured with a piece of bread, its crust glistening with a faint coat of fish oil. Ridmark reminded himself to clean his teeth thoroughly before he went to bed, or else everything would taste like fish tomorrow. “I’ve heard those rumors, too. I don’t know if there is any truth to them at all. Matters are so unsettled in Cintarra that these red orcs might be a fear of the commoners, an enemy conjured out of their imaginations. Or perhaps they were attacked by Mhorites or deep orcs, and the retelling of the story turned the orcs the color of blood.”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark, frowning. Most orcs had green skin, though he had encountered other nations of orcs that had gray or yellowish-green skin.
“Maybe the ghost orcs of Shaluusk have decided to raid the High King’s realm,” said Flavius.
“That’s possible,” said Ridmark. “It would be…uncharacteristic, though. The ghost orcs keep to themselves.”
“Not always,” said Valmark. “A few years ago, you had to rescue Tormark’s daughter from that ghost orc warband in the mountains.”
“That’s not quite what happened,” said Ridmark, “though it’s close enough. And the ghost orcs are gray. No one would think they had red skin.”
“I still think it is a rumor,” said Valmark. “A tale that has regrown and become incorrect in the telling. Why, if a man were to believe the stories about you, brother, you would be twelve feet tall and breathe fire from your jaws at every step.”
“Since I kiss him every day, I am pleased that is not the case,” said Calliande. The others laughed.
“If this fish had any more spice on it, I might breathe fire,” said Ridmark. He looked at Flavius and Belasco. “The sheep thief. Do you think the men of Ebor will react badly if he is punished tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” said Belasco. “But they are on the edge of desperation, and desperate men have little left to lose.”
“If they try to make trouble, they won’t be able to get far,” said Longinus. “There are more women and children among the villagers of Ebor than men of fighting age. We have men-at-arms in the town, and if we summon the militia to duty, we could overwhelm them. For that matter, if we close the town’s gates, they wouldn’t be able to get inside.”
Ridmark frowned. “I don’t want this to end in bloodshed. Especially when the villagers of Ebor have been driven from their homes.”
“A lord has the right to do as he wishes with his lands,” said Longinus. He hesitated, perhaps fearing Ridmark would take offense. “My lord.”
“A man has the right to do many things,” said Caius, “but that does not decide whether or not those things are wise. I fear the lords of Cintarra are acting with greed and short-sightedness, and that will bring ruin upon their heads if they do not change course.”
“It will end in bloodshed,” said Kharlacht. “These things always do.”
The conversation turned to lighter topics, such as the catches from the fishermen and the prospects of the harvest. There, at least, Ridmark heard good news. The fishermen had been hauling in large catches over the last several weeks, and the people of the town had been busy pickling and salting the fish. Both the cities of Tarlion and Cintarra bought salted and pickled fish in large numbers, and even with the troubles in Cintarra, demand for fish had not wavered. Whatever was happening in Cintarra, Castarium was prospering.
For now, at least. If the rumors were true and the situation in Cintarra devolved into a rebellion or even a civil war, then that would reach Castarium and the rest of the realm of Andomhaim. Still, that was beyond Ridmark’s responsibility. Right now, he would have to attend to his own duties.
“Let’s go over the petitions for tomorrow,” said Ridmark to Flavius. “I would prefer not to have any surprises.”
“Very well, my lord,” said Flavius.
***
Chapter 3: Judgments
The next morning, Ridmark prepared to hold court in the castra’s great hall.
It was also one of the market days in the town when the local villagers came to Castarium to buy and sell. This time of year, while the crops were sown but not yet harvested, the farmers would not have much to sell, though they would have winter vegetables, eggs, cheese, and cattle and wine. The villagers would, however, purchase supplies they needed for the coming season, and the merchants among the townsmen would try to turn a profit. And while the villagers were in the town, they might as well drink and enjoy themselves, and so bards and musicians and actors converged on Castarium to earn a few coins. Ridmark also had no doubt there would be a fair number of pickpockets and petty thieves among the crowds. Sir Longinus and his men-at-arms might have a busy day. The entire affair took on a festival air, and if there were any executions, the crowds would gather to watch the new entertainments.
Ridmark hoped there would not be any executions.
He had put people to death for crimes since he had become the Comes of Castarium, and he always hated it. Which he supposed was strange. He had killed more men in battle than he could easily remember, and the men he had executed had been unquestionably guilty of murder and brigandage. Turning brigand was bad enough but killing a group of traveling merchants was much worse. Ridmark didn’t pity the men he had executed, who had certainly deserved their fate, but he still hadn’t liked it.
Still, none of the day’s petitions involved unresolved capital crimes, mostly land disputes and the like.
But the business of the monastery’s stolen sheep and pig, aye, that might cause a problem, depending on how hard the abbot intended to push the matter.
The day started at sunrise, with a mass in Bishop Belasco’s cathedral. Before going to the church, Ridmark dressed in a tunic, trousers, boots, his dark elven armor, and his gray cloak that the high elven archmage Ardrhythain had given him nearly twenty-five years ago. His soulblade Oathshield hung in its scabbard at his belt. His staff Aegisikon remained in his room at the castra, since while it was a powerful magical weapon, it did not look all that impressive, and the townsmen thought it odd to see their lord holding a common quarterstaff while administering justice.
At the church, Ridmark said a quiet prayer for wisdom and then went to prepare. Sir Longinus opened the town’s gates for the market, and a long line of farmers and peddlers entered the forum. Calliande took Antenora and went to visit the encampment of the men of Ebor, to see if they had any wounds that her magic could heal. Ridmark insisted that they take Vegetius and four men-at-arms with them. Calliande and Antenora were in very little danger from the men of Ebor – if pressed, Calliande could probably kill them all. But men on the edge of desperation sometimes did foolish things, and the presence of vigilant s
oldiers might keep any trouble from starting.
Joachim, Rhoanna, and Carlon remained with the nurses and Brother Octavius in the castra.
While the others were occupied, Ridmark retreated to the praefectus’s study in the castra and went over the day’s petitions one last time. Flavius knew everyone in Castarium, and he also knew all the details, both public and secret, of the disputes. Ridmark thought he could settle them without much difficulty, at least until he came to the monastery’s case.
They had just finished when the door open, and Calliande and Antenora stepped inside the study. Ridmark looked up from the document on Flavius’s desk and smiled. Calliande wore another green gown with golden trim and the bronze diadem and carried the staff of the Keeper. She did look quite lovely, and he had the brief urge to order everyone else out of the room and pull her out of that dress, but duty had to come first.
Besides, he could always do that later once they were alone.
“Any trouble?” said Ridmark.
“None,” said Calliande.
Vegetius snorted. “The Keeper healed three injured legs and two broken hands. If the men of Ebor were inclined to make trouble, they weren’t after that.”
“I hope you let Antenora share some of the work,” said Ridmark.
Calliande’s smile was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Yes, between you and Antenora, I am quite protected from wearing myself out through overwork.”
“Someone has to defend you from that,” said Ridmark. “What did you think?”
“Their grievances seem legitimate,” said Antenora, her voice quiet. “They have lost their homes for no good reason other than the greed of their lords. Their restraint from turning to banditry has been remarkable.”
“I think Bishop Belasco deserves the credit for that,” said Calliande. “He has arranged for much of the cathedral’s alms to ensure the men of Ebor have food.” Her expression darkened. “The monastery’s almoner has refused to give any food to the men of Ebor.”
“None at all?” said Ridmark, taken aback. Part of the monastery’s charter was to provide charity to the poor of Castarium and the surrounding villages.
“None at all,” repeated Calliande, voice grim. “Apparently the almoner argued that the monastery was only obliged to provide charity for the men of Castarium, not landless vagabonds from Cintarra.”
“Bishop Belasco should have mentioned that,” said Ridmark.
“Likely the bishop did not want to speak ill of another high churchman in front of a secular lord,” said Antenora.
“Damned politics,” said Ridmark. “The town could be burning to the ground, and men would still stop to argue over whose fault it was and whose claims should take precedence.”
Calliande smiled a little. “You’re starting to sound like the High King.” The smile faded. “I did learn some details about the business with the sheep and the pig.”
“What did you find?” said Ridmark.
“It matches what Flavius already told you,” said Calliande, nodding at the praefectus. “The thief’s name is Niall. His aunt was Rhiain, and she was well-respected in Ebor as something of a physician. Niall’s father died fighting in the Frostborn war,” the skin near her eyes tightened, just a bit, “and his mother and uncle soon after. His aunt raised him. After their lord drove them from their village, Rhiain grew sick.”
“Were you able to help her?” said Ridmark, knowing that if there had been a way to help the woman, Calliande would have found it.
“Somewhat,” said Calliande. “I was able to heal some minor injuries she had sustained. Mostly her illness was brought on by a combination of fatigue and stress. From what I gather, Niall decided that his aunt needed to eat better to recover. He stole two sheep and a pig from the monastery’s pastures, slaughtered them, and gave some of the meat to his aunt. The rest he shared among the people of Ebor.”
“That matches what the boy told me, my lord,” said Flavius. “Myself, I would be inclined to let him off with a flogging or to send him on his way and tell him never to return to Castarium. But the abbot…I thought it better to leave the business to your judgment.”
Ridmark said nothing. Another truth of humanity – men would delegate problems to higher authority whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Well, he was the higher authority here, so he couldn’t complain.
“It seems that both Niall and Rhiain are well-respected among the men of Ebor,” said Antenora. “I will presume to offer counsel. You should punish Niall lightly or let him go entirely, and then you should direct the people of Ebor to travel to either Trojas in Owyllain or to the Northerland. In fact, I will speak to my husband and suggest that he allow them to settle on his benefice in the Northerland. The Northerland is more dangerous than the valley of the River Cintarra, but they will not be driven from their homes.”
“No, if anyone drives them from their homes,” said Ridmark, “it will be the medvarth or the ice dwarves, not their own lords.”
“I would speak with my husband alone,” said Calliande.
Flavius straightened up from the desk and gathered an armful of documents, arranging them into a neat stack. “I’ll open the great hall, my lord, and have Sir Longinus keep order.”
“Thank you,” said Ridmark. “Antenora, if you would, have the nurses bring Joachim to the hall. If he becomes a Magistrius one day, he’ll need to advise lords on matters such as this. It will be good for him to start witnessing them now.”
“I shall bring Carlon as well,” said Antenora, “for much the same reason.”
“Thank you,” said Ridmark.
“I’ll join you in a moment,” said Calliande, and Antenora and Flavius left the study.
“What do you want to discuss?” said Ridmark.
Calliande tapped the end of her staff against the floor, frowning. “I think you should let Niall go if possible. His aunt was quite sick. He did steal from the monastery, yes, and that should be punished. A lord has to administer justice, but the punishment must suit the crime.” Her frown deepened. “And it sits ill with me that an abbot of a monastery would push for an execution over the theft of three animals. Especially when that same monastery refuses to extend alms to desperate men sitting outside their walls.”
“You don’t like Abbot Caldorman, either,” said Ridmark.
“I don’t,” said Calliande. “I think he is greedy and grasping. Poor traits in a man sworn to poverty, even if he rationalizes his greed for the collective property of the monastery and not his own gain.” Her eyes narrowed. “And, to be blunt, I think he is exploiting Prince Accolon’s grief. I think Abbot Caldorman has grand plans to shape Accolon into his pupil, and then to rule from behind the scenes once Accolon becomes the High King one day.”
“Accolon has a stronger mind than that,” said Ridmark.
“Normally I would agree,” said Calliande. “But grief can derange a man. We both know that too well. And I do not like how the abbot has taken Accolon’s grief and self-reproach and used it to worm his way into his trust.”
Ridmark sighed. “Once I’ve finished hearing petitions for the day, I’m going to visit Accolon in the monastery. Maybe I can make him see reason. I promised the High King that I would.” He shook his head. “But grief can be its own kind of madness, one that words cannot reach.”
“I know,” said Calliande. “We both know. But the matters of Accolon and Niall are related. The abbot has the heir to the realm under his thumb, so he thinks he can execute men for stealing his cattle. Giving Niall a light punishment would be a rebuke to Caldorman’s pride.”
“It never goes well when justice and politics mix,” said Ridmark.
“I know,” said Calliande, “but in this case, I think a light punishment would be justice. Niall and Rhiain had already suggested that the people of Ebor travel to Tarlion, to see if they could make their way to the Northerland. They only stopped here because Rhiain grew too sick to continue.”
“All right,” said Ridm
ark. “I’ll hear what Niall has to say for himself, and then I’ll make a decision.” He stepped forward and kissed her. “You’ll be with Joachim and Antenora?”
“Aye, I’ll have Rhoanna stay with Lucilla,” said Calliande. “She’s too young for this sort of thing. We’ll be with Kharlacht and Caius and Valmark.”
“God and the saints,” said Ridmark. “Bad enough that I have to play the lord. Now I have to do it in front of an audience?”
“No doubt Valmark will be full of advice after you’ve done all the work,” said Calliande. She smiled and kissed him again. “But I always think you look lordly.”
“Thank you. I think,” said Ridmark, and they walked from Flavius’s study and into the great hall of the castra.
There was a good-sized crowd. Two of Sir Longinus’s men-at-arms stood near the doors to the forum, and four more near the small dais. Ridmark spotted the men of the town curia, its governing council, and the chief merchants, freeholders, and fishermen. Bishop Belasco stood near the dais, flanked by some of his priests and canons, and Calliande walked to join Antenora, Kharlacht, Caius, and Sir Valmark. Joachim stood next to Antenora, watching Ridmark with wide eyes.
A group of monks in brown robes waited halfway between the dais and the doors to the courtyard. The townsmen stood a little away from the brothers of the Monastery of St. Bartholomew. The monks’ faces were set in expressions no doubt meant to convey pious serenity, but instead managed to display a hint of arrogant contempt, as if this entire affair was beneath them. Ridmark was suddenly reminded of the Dominus Christus’s account of the tax collector and the Pharisee, how the Pharisee had offered up a prayer of thanks to God that he was not like other men.
Dragontiarna: Knights Page 4