FIVE: Tussles in the Hay
Since every Man thinks of himself before all Others, no earthly Order can act wholly for its own Benefit.
—Caraazor 1:6 The Alchemy of War
Broad shafts of light penetrated the gloom of Grelig’s Throne Room, slanting down from small open windows high above. Scalcus Long, the gray-haired exchequer, knelt before Grelig. Faint cries from the marketplace wafted into the hall in intermittent spurts, breaking the studied silence.
Ponderously, Grelig lifted one battered hand to his beard and said, “Tell me about the marketplace.”
The Exchequer’s shoulders slumped. His eyes darted to the vaulted ceiling above, roving over the graceful pillars holding back massive stones. The fragile-looking ceiling made Scalcus Long feel as if a mountain pressed down upon him.
His eyes came to rest on the face of his master. “Can you not hear...m’lord?”
Grelig’s burly shoulders hunched beneath his rich cloak and he grunted once.
The Exchequer continued, “Our fair is collapsing! Rumors are flying that the treasury has been robbed. The merchants are withdrawing their silver and leaving! We can still stop it...if we show that the Treasury has plenty of...”
“Must we close the fair?”
“Not yet, it’s not that bad,” assured the harried Exchequer. “We must...”
The Baron hissed, “Do nothing! Tell me when everyone knows that the market has to be closed.” The Exchequer said nothing, but made no move to leave.
“Your audience is over, Lord Exchequer.”
The frantic Exchequer rose. His narrow arms and pipe-stem legs trembled like an archer who had held his bowstring nocked far too long a time. He walked toward the entrance on unsteady legs, while glancing back at the Baron multiple times. He clearly hoped his Lord would call him back. Grelig gave him no such summons.
The unhappy Exchequer left the hall.
Baron Grelig turned to his page and said, “Bring me Sir Aldon.”
* * *
Aldon arrived in the council chamber a few minutes after receiving Grelig’s summons. The Baron sat at the far end of the long conference table, his bearded face echoed by its distorted reflection in the polished surface. Lapian and Kapur stood behind him.
The loyal Knight-commander took a seat at Grelig’s right hand, stiffening his spine to conform to the tall, strait-backed wooden seat. Aldon’s facial muscles twitched as he strove to blank all expression from his face.
His brother’s facial gymnastics disturbed Grelig. He is not comfortable with Kapur’s plan.
The Baron asked his brother, “How are your guardsmen holding up?”
“Adequate, but there have been few problems so far.”
“Can they handle real trouble if you are not here?”
Aldon’s lips seemed ready to shape the word “yes”, but then closed into a grim line. He looked Grelig in the eye and minutely shook his head. “It’s a big risk.”
“It’s a risk that we have to...”
“Nonsense!” objected Steward Lapian. His long white hair shook from the agitated bobbling of his head as he spat the words. “We have no..real...proof....that.....”
Lapian’s voice trailed off when he noticed the other three men staring at him. Deathly quiet settled over the council chamber. The normally decorous Lapian had interrupted the Baron. The Steward looked as if he were fighting a sudden bout of nausea.
Baron Grelig could not tolerate such a breach in protocol from even a friend as loyal as Steward Lapian.
Kapur smiled.
* * *
Grelig sat in the Exchequer’s tent with Lapian, Kapur, Exchequer Scalcus Long and Sir Aldon gathered in a small knot to his right. The Mayor of Dannik town and three men from the Guild Council clustered to Grelig’s left. Henrick stood in the middle of the rough semicircle.
Henrick reported, “Everyone is screaming about a shortfall in the Treasury. At this point, I don’t think we can stop the rumor.”
Henrick appeared oblivious to the consequences of his report. The tradesmen in the tent stirred. Money counters and other minor functionaries scurried in the background, trying to keep pace with the sudden rush of merchants demanding to close their accounts.
Baron Grelig had already made his decision. This ‘council’ was a show whose only purpose was to convince the Mayor and Guildsmen that he had considered their views. Grelig itched to end this sham.
The Baron stood and began to pace around the tent. He addressed the group in a brisk voice, “We’re here to decide if the market should be closed. I will hear from Mayor Elbert, the Council of Guilds, and Scalcus Long. Keep it short, we have to move fast.”
The Mayor launched himself from his seat like an arrow loosed by an ambushed archer. He spoke in a rush. “I see no cause to close the fair. We should allow our good tradesmen this opportunity to buy at low prices. When prices are high, we do not force these foreigners to bring them down. Why should we stop them from selling when prices have fallen low?”
The Mayor paused, and looked into his Baron’s eyes. “Why should we stop our merchants from getting rich?”
Kapur mocked the Mayor’s tone. “Especially since the town is making a killing loaning money to desperate foreign merchants. If they stop getting wiped out, they’ll stop borrowing from you at thirty percent.”
The Mayor’s jaw dropped. No one was supposed to know what he was doing. Kapur smiled and continued, “The word on the street is that the Town Council is the only place to get a loan. Where are you getting the money—tapping the city payroll?”
Grelig forced himself to hide his satisfaction. We didn’t exactly plan it this way. Sometimes, the Gods grant favors.
Mayor Elbert squirmed in his chair. His eyes darted around the deep shadows of the cavernous tent. The Mayor sputtered, “I don’t believe it matters where...”
One of the Guildsmen shot the Mayor a contemptuous glance. Elbert fell silent.
If the town’s guardsmen found out the Council had loaned their reserve to foreign merchants, there could be a riot. They might even hang the Mayor. Obviously, Elbert counted on borrowing from the banks to meet the payroll. He knew they would appeal to their Houses in Selinger to back local paper.
Given those risks, I wonder how much of the profit will end up in the Town Council’s pocket.
If the banks discovered the Town Council’s scheme, the whole plan would come crashing down. They could demand premium interest rates on any loans given to the town, destroying Elbert’s profit margin. The Mayor’s future in office, and perhaps his health, depended upon Grelig’s dubious mercy.
The Baron soothed the abruptly solicitous Elbert. “You have always been cooperative toward us in the past. We are sure you will be so in the future.”
The fawning Mayor answered, “Of course, M’lord. Dannik-town has always been happy to serve.”
Elbert slumped into his chair while the three Guildsmen gazed at the Mayor with predatory eyes. Within himself, Grelig laughed. I wonder what kind of arrangement Elbert will make with them.
The precise terms, however, did not matter. Unlike the banks, the Town Council had many ways to pressure the Guilds.
After watching Grelig humble the Mayor, the Guildsmen fell over themselves to cooperate with the Baron. Grelig had intentionally cut them in on the Town Council’s scheme. Their most prudent course was to take what Grelig had given them, rather than risk having their secrets exposed.
When Exchequer Long recommended closing the market, the town officers did not utter even a perfunctory objection.
After the Mayor and the three Guildsmen had skulked from his tent, Grelig looked out over the marketplace. Softly, the Baron murmured to Aldon, “Can your son keep peace in the town?”
Aldon took an almost imperceptible step back from his older brother. He was tired of Grelig’s constant skepticism about Cyneld’s competence just because his oldest son had been born with a clubfoot. He coldly answered, “You cannot expect to close a fair without resistance. Cyneld will quiet the fairground by nightfall. However, his troops are green. I cannot guarantee they will stand up to a riot.”
In the background, Henrick smirked as his cousin’s name entered the conversation.
The Baron’s face hardened at his brother’s defensive response. “They will have to do. You leave tomorrow morning.”
Aldon looked at Grelig for an intense moment. The Baron’s quivering jaw line betrayed suppressed concern. Taking mercy on his frazzled brother, Aldon answered Grelig’s unspoken question. “Brother, even though I am no longer able to enter the lists, I am still fit enough to command.”
Aldon paused for a moment, and then added, “I am less worried about my back than I am about Calidon. He’s beginning to waver. I can control him better than you.”
Grelig proclaimed, “I am his father. He will do my bidding.”
Aldon nodded, but his face bore a dubious expression.
The Baron, meanwhile, turned toward his eldest son with dark eyes.
“Do what you must with the girl.”
A slow, feral grin spread across Henrick’s features before he could suppress his reaction. Grelig’s heir restrained his response to one terse nod.
Maht-Hildis help me. What have I done?
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