The Margrave of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

Nesmith grinned. “Oh, yes Sir! We’ve had two dinners already.”

  “You’re in big trouble, Alex.”

  “I think not.”

  Franklin waved him out of the room. “Just remember, I can’t protect you.”

  The door closing was followed by the rumble of Prary’s laughter.

  “Okay, Eden. What do you think?”

  “I think Alex is in trouble.”

  “About funding the destroyer.”

  “Oh, I try not to offer opinions. I know I’m not the sharpest stylus in the box.”

  “And you consistently underrate yourself. You see more of what goes on around here than anybody else. Do you think we need to... I don't know, ignore the wealth that is lying under the ground here?”

  “I don’t think you’re ignoring it, Margrave. You just have not come up with a solution you think will work.” Prary’s deep voice was almost lulling. “I believe we will eventually find a solution. I also think we must.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning we are not likely to receive sufficient help from anywhere else. Duke Roma is trying to force us off the dole. Sooner or later we are going to be on our own. Best we learn sooner. Later may be too late.”

  “The voice of wisdom, Prary.”

  The subterranean laughter rumbled in the room again. “I am the most foolish of men, Margrave.”

  Franklin’s sharp bark of laughter was a counterpoint to Prary’s. “You really love to have people underestimate you, don’t you?”

  Prary managed a sly grin. “It has served me well so far.”

  “Okay, I’ll accept that. But Eden,” he said, “I need your insight. Don’t be shy about pulling me aside if you see me getting ready to drive us off a cliff. I’m a child compared to Foxworth and Wilson. And don’t even talk about Carlo Roma and Admiral Krause.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Margrave…”

  “I mean it, Eden,” Franklin interrupted. “The reason Dad kept you and Gerry here was to keep me out of trouble. Now, I may be the idiot child, but at least I know I need help and I expect it from you. Do you understand.”

  “Then we’re in big trouble, Margrave.”

  “We’re already in big trouble. And it’s only going to get worse. The storm clouds are building. Everybody knows the Centaurans are going to grab Earth. When they do, hell will let out for lunch out here. We need to look so strong… so scary that nobody will dare mess with us.”

  “I will do what I can, Margrave. You know that.”

  “I know that. And honestly? I don’t mind having people underestimating you. But don’t you dare withhold things that I need to hear from you from a misplaced sense of modesty. We cannot afford that.”

  Eden Prary looked at Franklin in something like shock.

  “I’m not trying to be mean and nasty, Eden. But I am as serious as I can be. I need every bit of intelligence and cunning and luck I can put my hands on to get this place through the next several years. I just wonder what in God’s name Willard Krause was thinking to pull Dad out of here. He could’ve figured this out in a heartbeat.”

  Prary slowly levered himself out of his chair and walked over to the Margrave. He put his hand on Franklin’s shoulder.

  “You have my unquestioned support, Margrave, and I understand your orders and will follow them. And I agree with you. You are not the man your father is.”

  Franklin looked up at Prary in surprise. “Well thank you very much, Eden!”

  “No, you are the man we need here. I disagree with you – your father could not have done what is necessary here. Your father is a great man, but your mother forced him to make the tough decisions. You are not hobbled in that fashion. I believe you will do whatever is necessary. You are fundamentally ruthless.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  Prary turned to leave the room. “I need to go check the power station. The staff has been getting sloppy and I need to put a scare into them. If I can be so modest, I would say I am rather good at that.”

  “All you need to do is walk in a room and you do that.”

  Prary was followed by his characteristic subterranean rumble of laughter as he walked out of the room.

  “He's even scary when he laughs,” Franklin said to himself.

  chapter six

  “A moment of your time, Margrave?”

  Franklin Nyman was walking across the central square of Montora Village and turned as The Reverend Edmund Tracy Riggs hurried up to him.

  “Yes, Father. What can I do for you this morning?”

  “Going for a walk?”

  “Up to the shuttle port. We have a visitor coming in.”

  “May I walk with you?”

  “Of course. Certain sedentary priests can use the exercise.”

  “Thanks. I think. Antonia tells me the same thing.”

  “It's a nice day for it, though.”

  The two men started towards the paved road leaving the village. The stone pavers were tightly set and the roadbed was smooth.

  “I think Harmon is about halfway to the shuttleport with the paving,” Riggs said.

  “Sounds about right. The man really knows what he is about.”

  “We are glad to have him here. Helped me with some repairs to the church. Couldn’t have handled it myself.”

  “And well you shouldn’t. You don’t need to be doing that kind of work, Father.”

  “I am sure it is similar to your position, Margrave. If you’re willing to jump in on any project, the people are more inclined to participate.”

  “Okay, I concede the point. I need to schedule a day or two to help on the road myself. Although I have to admit, stoneworking is bit out of the range of my capabilities.”

  “Your dad helped start the project, you know.”

  “Harmon Eckert told me,” Franklin said as they began to move beyond the village and into the woods. “Road looks good.”

  “Yes, Sir, it does. And I had another suggestion.”

  They were walking at a good pace and the priest was beginning to pant a bit.

  “What’s the matter, Father, you’re puffing.”

  “The ministry of the Word does not lend itself to a lot of physical activity, I admit.”

  “So what’s on your mind?”

  “The pedestal in the village square. We’ve been talking among ourselves and would like to put a statue on it.”

  “Not a bad idea. The area looks kind of empty. Of course, the big question is who would be the model for the statue?”

  “We’ve talked about that too, Margrave.”

  “So why are you talking to me about this rather than the mayor?”

  “Yasmin Gris thought I might be the better one to approach you about this.”

  Franklin stopped walking and turned to face the priest. “Okay, spit it out, Father. What have you folks cooked up that makes you afraid to talk to me about it?”

  Riggs looked around at the road and the woods, then turned back to Franklin. “Margrave, we would like to place a sculpture of your mother in the village square.”

  He stared at Riggs for a few moments and then resumed walking. The minister had to trot to catch up. They walked along a slight curve in the road to come upon a dozen men from the village, working on the road. Harmon Eckert looked up from where he was helping to lever a stone into place. He tossed the crowbar aside and walked towards Franklin and Riggs.

  “Good morning, Margrave.”

  “Hard at it, I see, Eckert.”

  “Yes, Sir. We’re making good progress. I think we might have the road complete to the shuttle port by the end of the summer.”

  “That is fantastic work, Harmon. I am really thrilled about that.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I thought I might come and help for a few days next week, if that’s okay with you.”

  Harmon Eckert slid his tongue around inside of his cheek while he considered. “Do you know anything about stonework, Margrave?”

  “Not a thing. B
ut I know how to use a shovel.”

  “Well, you’re welcome anytime, Margrave.”

  “Thanks. We’ll be on our way then.”

  Franklin continued along the now dirt path with the priest with him. The way was no longer smooth. It was rocky and rutted, requiring care to avoid falls.

  “Do you have a sculptor lined up?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Riggs said. “Have you seen the sculpture in the church garden?”

  “Gethsemane, I believe the title board says,” Franklin said. “An impressive piece of work.”

  “The sculptor lives in Cambridge. I’ve talked to him informally and he is interested.”

  “What will this cost, Father?”

  “Oh, nothing for the Margraviate. The people are collecting money to pay for it. They want to do this.”

  “In that case, I’m honored. I would like to keep this as a surprise for Dad, however.”

  “Of course. We could arrange some kind of dedication when he comes to visit.”

  “I’d like that. Will the sculptor make some kind of a prototype or something like that?”

  “Yes, he does a small scale version so we can sign off on the work.”

  “I’d like to look at it before you commit to something.”

  “We can do that.”

  “In that case, Father Riggs, the project has my blessing. Although, now that I think of it, the blessings come from you, right?”

  “No, the blessings come from God.”

  “Okay. Whatever.”

  “You're pretty good at evading the topic.”

  “And you're pretty pestiferous at times, Father.”

  “It's my job.”

  “Yeah, well, I've got my job to do today as well.”

  “If I may ask, who is coming in today?”

  “Glenn Foxworth’s daughter wants a tour of the village. She’s coming in on the morning shuttle. I guess Glenn didn’t want to turn her loose in an aircar.”

  “Is that the tall woman who looks like the actress?”

  “Word gets around. Yes. Surprised the daylights out of me when she walked into the party last week. I guess she’s used to that sort of thing.”

  “It’s probably not a blessing,” Riggs said.

  “We’re back to blessings again, are we? No, it wouldn’t be in her case. Anyway, it looks like my day is booked.”

  “Not such a bad way to spend the time, eh what?”

  Franklin raised an eyebrow as he looked over at the priest. “Time will tell. I spoke to her briefly at the party, but not long enough to get any sense of her personality.”

  “Things could be worse.”

  “Yeah, like squiring a Woogie around,” Franklin said.

  “I thought you liked them.”

  “Oh, I do. But trying to communicate consistently takes a lot of effort.”

  “Not to mention the smell.”

  “Not to mention the smell,” Franklin agreed. “Incidentally, we’ll probably have another Woogie coming through soon. One of Louie’s friends is popping in.”

  “Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to it. Their theological perspectives are interesting.”

  “Don’t you get enough of the human variety of religion?”

  “It’s more like a hobby of mine, Margrave. It always amazes me how well Woogie belief systems dovetail with the Bible. I think it’s pretty clear God communicated to them about redemption.”

  “Yes… well, here we are, Father. Are you going to walk back, or do you want to wait around and go down in the Jitney?”

  “Oh, since I’m supposed to be exercising, I’ll walk back. The weather is too pleasant to ignore.”

  Franklin walked into the terminal and over to a water fountain. He was just bending over to take a drink when he heard a voice.

  “Here you go, Margrave.”

  One of the girls manning the desk trotted over with an opened bottle of Bronwen’s.

  Bronwen's was a cola drink imported from Caledon. It had a much sharper taste than the local soft-drinks, and Franklin was partial to it.

  “Thank-you, Leesa.” He took a healthy slug of the soft drink. “This is really good.”

  The young woman almost curtsied in response. “It’s nothing, Margrave. We know you always want refreshment after walking up here from the village.”

  “What do you do, keep a stash of Bronwen’s up here?”

  “Oh, Mr. Marple sends it up for us.”

  Franklin shook his head. “You should not go to so much trouble for me.”

  “But, Margrave, we enjoy doing so.”

  “Well, I appreciate the job you people do here. The terminal is always very clean. And I hear compliments from travelers all the time on how helpful you are.”

  Leesa blushed. “We are just doing our job, Sir.”

  “Well, please keep it up. It’s your hard work, and people like you who will make Montora and Hepplewhite great.”

  Franklin walked over to the counter. “Keeping the passenger manifests in order, David?”

  “Yes, Sir. The morning shuttle is about a minute out.”

  “Great! Thanks.” Franklin stepped back outside.

  The shuttle glinted in the morning light as it swooped over the western mountains. The weather was clear and the shuttle came straight in to the port and sat down smoothly.

  Franklin walked through the gate and watched the passengers disembarking. The tall brunette had to bend low to get through the hatch. She then straightened up to come down the stairs.

  Nice looking woman there, Franklin thought to himself. I kind of like them tall.

  She stepped out of the way of the other passengers when she got to the bottom of the steps and scanned the area. She spotted the Margrave and marched over to where he stood.

  “Margrave Montora,” she said as she stuck out her hand.

  “Ms. Foxworth,” he replied as he shook her hand. “Welcome to Montora. And please, call me Franklin. We’re informal out here.”

  “And I am Signe. Whenever someone says Ms. Foxworth I start looking around for Mother.”

  “She’s hard to miss,” Franklin said.

  Signe giggled in her deep contralto. “Mother does like her grand appearances. Louie did a great job of upstaging her last week, though.”

  “That was probably my fault. Louie saw my Strawberry Sling and demanded one for himself.”

  “The results were spectacular. I've never seen a Woogie get sick before.”

  “I don't think anybody here has. It was... memorable.”

  She laughed quietly, the sounds gurgling up from deep in her throat. Franklin was momentarily distracted.

  “And began your dad’s cleanup efforts.”

  She giggled again.

  Her laugh is melodious, he thought. And that low voice is enchanting.

  “I asked the staff to leave one of the electric trucks here at the port. I can show you anything you want to see in whatever order. I have reserved the private dining room at the Village Inn. Several of my staff will be joining us for lunch.”

  “Are you that willing to share information with me?” she asked.

  “At some level I assume you represent the Prime Minister. Plus the planet as a whole is facing some intractable financial problems. I hope you might find a fresh approach, which will get things moving.”

  “Okay. Let’s start with the shuttle port then.”

  “Very well. My parents put this in late last fall in a bid to stimulate tourism. It has been successful…”

  # # #

  “Modest Marple sets a nice table,” Signe said. “In some ways better than the Cambridge Arms.”

  Signe, Franklin and Modest were in the Seneschal’s Dining Room along with Daphne Locke, and Gerry Blakely. Marple blushed in response to the praise.

  “I am simply doing no more than I should here at the restaurant.”

  “Louie told me you are the most competent hotelier on the planet, except for him, of course.”

  Frank
lin snorted and set his glass down with a bang. “They are the only two hoteliers on the planet. And don't let Louie hear you praising Modest so highly. He'll renovate his restaurant or something.”

  Marple turned an even brighter shade of red.

  “Well, maybe I didn’t understand the Woogie correctly,” Signe persisted. “They tend to badly fracture a lot of what they say. I think Louie truly believes you are a great hotelier, Mr. Marple.”

  “Really, it’s nothing,” he said.

  “He’s just being modest,” Franklin said.

  Gerry groaned and Daphne rolled her eyes. Signe laughed delightedly. “I know it’s not nice to make fun of people, and I’m sure you hear comments about your name all the time, but that was really funny.”

  Franklin looked pleased. Daphne was continuing to roll her eyes. She suddenly jumped, as if someone kicked her under the table. She quickly glanced around to see Blakely glaring at her.

  “Nonetheless, Modest has put together a nice operation for us,” Franklin said. “And profitable too.”

  “So you are cash flow positive on the inn?” she asked.

  Marple looked questioningly at Franklin. He nodded slightly.

  “We are cash flow positive at the moment. Things have slowed down since the last promotion. We are developing a new initiative which should be ready for the fall season. Since we have decided to go ahead and begin work on another wing of the inn, I expect some negative cash flow until we begin housing guests.”

  “Is this a good time to be adding on?”

  “The slow season is really the best time. That way we don’t have tourists tripping over the workers and what-not.”

  Signe looked thoughtful. “I had more in mind the situation regarding the Hepplewhite Navy.”

  Franklin looked around the room, then got up and closed the double door leading to the main dining area. “That is still fairly closely held knowledge, Signe. Everyone in this room is aware of it, but we haven’t been spreading it around much.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. Daddy told me to be careful with that, and I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Airhead,” Daphne muttered under her breath.

  Now Franklin was glaring at her. He made an effort to smooth out his face and looked back at Signe. “No harm done, I think. We might as well talk about it now, since it’s on everybody’s mind.”