‘I’m telling you – no one followed me.’
‘That is what you say. I wanted that feorrancund dead. You will have to try again tomorrow. Already I will be the laughing stock – he will not be dead and people will start to think that I am scared of him. Me – scared of some half-wit feorrancund that that imbecile Octa found somewhere...’
Conn saw his chance. He opened the door and walked in. The Sheriff of Lykiak sat at the table and the thin assassin stood in front of him. ‘You won’t have to worry about what people think because you will be dead tomorrow.’ Conn added dryly.
Beornwahl looked at the assassin. ‘You fool! – he did follow you!’ and he screamed for the guards. Three raced into the room; the first meeting Conn’s fist and fell to the ground. The other two fell victim to the knife that Conn carried – the assassin’s blade. The assassin and his master stayed trapped in the corner of the room, from which there was no escape, watching events unfold.
Conn turned and faced them. ‘Well, that was entertaining. So let me tell you what is going to happen now. I don’t like people who try to have me murdered in my sleep. But I can’t go around and just kill people, can I – that would make me just like you. No – I think that this chap’ he pointed to the assassin, ‘should murder you.’
The assassin laughed uneasily. ‘I’m not going to kill him...’
‘Really?’ With that Conn threw the blade so that it landed in the Sheriff’s chest, in his heart. He looked at the blade in pure astonishment, and then coughing blood, sagged to his knees and then to the floor. ‘See, you just did. In fact you just killed three men in this room. You are very skilful.’
Conn picked up one of the guard’s blades and tossed it to the assassin. He picked up another. ‘You are now fighting for your life.’
There being no alternative, the assassin tried his best but fighting like this was not his style. It didn’t take long before he too was dead; impaled on the guard’s sword.
Conn went to the only guard alive, and roused him by slapping him a couple of times. He showed him the room.
‘Let me tell you a story. You are your two mates came in to see your master being killed by an assassin – who managed to kill your two colleagues before you were able to kill him. If I hear anything else, you will find me in your room in the middle of the night. You will not enjoy the experience. You are a hero today – but I think that you should leave town.’ Conn took twenty gold Ryals – two years pay – from his purse and handed them to the man. ‘You might not want to run into me in a dark street around here anytime soon...’
Conn left the room, exited the estate, and ran back to the Inn in the shadows. A rope had been left hanging from his window and he climbed up the outside, changed, and climbed into bed. Tired, he was soon fast asleep.
CHAPTER 09
The news of the death by assassination of the Sheriff was everywhere in the morning – the guard did what he was told, and after telling what had happened, he promptly boarded a riverboat and left town – saying he was in fear of his life. He was sure that there was a second assassin somewhere.
That the Sheriff had been murdered by an assassin was beyond comprehension. As the most important, powerful – and feared – people in the Cotlif, there seemed no rational explanation so rumours of more outlandish conspiracies abounded – certainly his confrontation with the Thane of Hama the previous day caused Conn’s name to be mentioned. When asked, the Innkeeper refuted the possibility – saying that the Thane had been in his bed all night. He’d heard him. He was so drunk that he could hardly stand up when he went to bed.
An emergency meeting of the Witan was called as the victim was so closely connected to the Metgiend, and despite what the guard has said, the Burhgerefa were tasked to investigate – given that there was now no Sheriff.
Later, Octa came to see Conn.
‘Whenever strange things happen, anywhere, I immediately think of you. I don’t know why, but you have a knack of being involved. Is there anything I should know?’
Conn told him the truth.
Octa was not overly surprised. ‘I never liked the man. We are better off without him, except of course, that there is now a power vacuum in town.’
‘I don’t think we need to worry about that.’
Octa smiled a wry smile. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure. Vacuums are always filled.’
‘I was afraid you were going to say that.’
‘Anyway – who will be the new sheriff?’
Octa shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps someone on his staff?’
‘Someone new would be good. I suggest that you nominate Oswald.’
Oswald was sitting beside his Eaorl and was as surprised as Octa. ‘Me? I know nothing about being Sheriff…’
‘Tasks can be learnt. Character cannot.’
Octa had taken a fall over the winter from his horse. His right shoulder had been damaged and his sword arm was not as strong anymore. He had spent some time with Conn rehabilitating the shoulder but he would be a danger to himself in battle. The role of Sheriff would suit him fine. His bedda was even from Lykiak.
Octa had said nothing during the exchange. He sighed. ‘Well, I guess I could put some of the Ryals you gave me to good use. I’m beginning to think that you are a very bad influence on me, Taransay.’
Octa left to speak to the Eaorls, while Conn took Oswald with him to the main gate, a twenty minute walk away. As they got closer Conn gave Oswald some suggestions, and when the guards saw him coming, they milled together in confusion. Essentially headless, they weren’t sure what to do.
As they got closer, the biggest pushed his way forward. ‘You don’t really think you can tell us what…’ His sentence was truncated by Oswald’s punch to his solar plexus. Two further punches saw the man unconscious on the ground. Oswald still had a mean left hook.
Conn introduced his friend. ‘This is Oswald, a Folctoga from Tabae. I have selected him to train you. You are a rabble and you should be a competent and professional town guard.’
They tried to complain. ‘You have no authority…’
Conn smiled; ‘Indeed I don’t – and this is not an order. Let’s say that I’m offering my services to help out where I see that some assistance is required. You can choose to accept my help or not. You have that liberty – of course, if you don’t, you and I will not be friends.’ He took a step forward and they involuntarily took a step backwards. ‘I will feel very slighted – offended even – and most people who are not my friends tend to have to leave town. I’m sure you can understand your conundrum?’
They all nodded.
‘Good. Now pick up your friend and get ready to start work. I expect that you will be choosing to train from sunrise to sunset until you feel that you are better equipped to do your job well. Of course, if you want to find alternative employment, or place of residence, this is your time to leave.’ He handed Oswald a bag of coins. ‘Some mead for the men at the end of the day perhaps…’
Oswald nodded.
‘Anyone with concerns?’ Conn asked. They all shook their heads. Conn nodded to Oswald and then turned and headed to the ‘Boar’s Head’ Inn where Wilga and Wuffa should be waiting with the documentation Conn requested.
People looked at him curiously as he walked; not being able to join the dots around the death of the sheriff, they simply did not expect the Thane to be alive. The Innkeeper was in shock for another reason.
Conn fronted to the bar. ‘You didn’t expect to see me today, did you? Well I’m here – and here is the document.’ Conn pointed. ‘You are to sign here.’
‘I don’t write or read.’
‘You are just going to trust me then.’ Conn took an ink pad and had the Innkeeper press his thumb on the pad and then on the document.
He handed him a pouch of coins. ‘Are you ready to leave?’
Wilga had borrowed a couple of guards from other Inn and they were instructed to keep watch on the Innkeeper until he had co
llected all his family and goods and left the building. Also waiting was Brictdred, the second son of the “Black Sheep” Innkeeper. He was delighted to accept the job of running the Inn, and within an hour, the renovation of the Inn commenced.
Everything inside was carted away was recycling while the remaining staff were set to work cleaning. Most of the Craeftiga in town had yet to acquire the necessary skills that Conn required, so Wuffa sent for the Craeftiga in Hama, and after they had arrived, they led the reconstruction of the Inn. Within a week, the bricklayers had a brand new kitchen with huge fireplaces under construction, inside and outside was being paved, the roof was being replaced with tiles, and walls were being built inside for new furniture and equipment. The ‘Boar’s Head’ would soon looked like nothing in Lykiak, with the best paid and prettiest maids in the sexiest uniforms, musicians playing daily, and with cooks trained to prepare the best food in town; it would have a menu containing “new” dishes such as pizza, noodles, pasta, and curry – all made with the produce, grains, herbs and spices that arrived from Haran. Several building next door were purchased to build a livery, a bathhouse, and additional accommodation.
Octa came to visit him amongst the building work, to bring him up to date on the investigation into the Sheriff’s death. Not surprisingly, the Burhgerefa had found significant evidence to prove that he was actually the man behind the violence and robbery in the Cotlif with a house full of stolen items. He had also concluded that the story spread by the surviving guard must have been correct –the Sheriff had been assassinated – and the assassin was a Rakian. He had been a regular at the “Boar’s Head”.
‘What about the rumour that I was involved?’
He laughed. ‘No-one believes it – even though some of them want to – but they don’t think it would be possible for you to organize such a thing on your first day here. Quite to your advantage really.’
‘Quite.’
‘Still, even I’m surprised that it only took you a single day...’
‘Some things take time. And the position of Sheriff?’ Octa had been “negotiating” with the members of the Witan.
‘It seems that Oswald will be elected unopposed.’
‘Did it cost much?’
‘Not near as much as I expected. Some people can be bought for far too little. Very disappointing.’
Oswald appointment was to be confirmed at the next session of the Witan. It was to be followed by the annual welcome feast; to which Conn was invited. Everyone wanted to meet him – especially as his reputation was larger than life already.
After a day working in the Inn rebuilding the roof, Conn returned to the “Black Sheep” to get ready for the feast. Thanes were rarely invited – there are so many of them – so Conn wanted to make in impression. He’d brought some new clothes from his workshops – the first of his silk production had been fashioned into garments; some of which were for him. His jacket an embroided silk calf length Sherwani in purple and gold, which he wore over deep black woolen blend trousers.
When he arrived to collect him, Octa was not impressed. ‘Now I look like something the cat dragged in – don’t you have anything I can wear? I can’t walk in dressed like this with you dressed like that! I expect you to be protecting my reputation rather than … than … I can’t even describe the damage you will do me. There are no words.’ He had on the traditional wear of Lykian Eaorls – which was a plain blown linen tunic and heavy linen pants; in much the same color. Very drab – but most clothes in Lykia were in the vegetable dyes made from of woad, madder and weld – Conn had fabrics with colors from indigo, saffron, cutch and blackberry. There was no comparison.
‘Melodramatic is the word I’d use – but I’ll see what I can do.’
Conn quickly arranged for another pair of woolen pants, in grey, a light blue linen shirt and a sleeveless dark blue suede doublet for the Eaorl; he was much happier.
It was a twenty minute walk to the keep, and Conn had the ringing in his head as they got closer. He told Octa everything he knew about the Cirice and Octa promised to ask the Metgiend about it. Himself, he knew nothing.
At the entrance of the keep they were met by the watchmen; standing at attention. Their uniforms were clean, and they were now armed with long bamboo Bo – Oswald had trained them well. Oswald stood with them; he wore a Folctoga’s uniform that Conn had modified for him, and he smiled gratefully as Conn passed. He was now officially the Sheriff of Lykia.
Inside the room almost fifty people milled around the great hall. The building was clearly very old, and it had stone walls supporting towering timber frames that joined in the center. The lack of fireplaces meant that the central fire filled the room with flickering light and not a little amount of smoke. The walls were much older than the timber frame – obviously a rebuild some hundred years after the original walls. It was a great feat of architecture.
‘This building is amazing. How old is it?’ Conn asked Octa as they entered.
‘Remember I told you that Sherric was able to invade Lykiak with a Fyrd of ten thousand?’
Conn nodded.
‘Well, this is where the final battle was; on the plains around Lykiak. This cotlif was one of several major Ancuman center before the Silekians arrived, but most of it burnt to the ground during the battle. Parts of this hall survived and it was rebuilt by the Moetians. This building is several hundred years old…’
The elderly Metgiend came over and greeted them politely. He didn’t look a happy man; but then he’s had a bad week with the death of the sheriff and the exposure of his complicity in extortion and murder. And then there was the involvement of his bedda as a further embarrassment.
Conn bowed respectfully. The Metgiend reciprocated.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Conn il Taransay. I have been hearing your name daily connected to some amazing activity or another; some I simply have yet to believe.’
Conn smiled. ‘That is wise, Metgiend, some of it I don’t believe myself.’
They were interrupted by a procession of Eaorls and their children who came to be introduced. The crowd was unusual – Eaorls, their sons and their daughters – there seemed to be no bedda present. The sons were there because they were looking for bedda and the daughters were there because they had just seen sixteen winters and were looking for bedda also. This was their chance to be seen – summer in Lykiak was not just about Witan business.
They looked at Conn with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, and not just a few of the sixteen year olds made sure they were as voluptuous as possible when they were introduced. They had heard that he had already two bedda and could be looking for a third.
Conn and Octa’s clothes made up for any shortage of conversation; Conn’s silk Sherwani had more than one hand running down his arm or chest. Conn did happen to mention in his discussions that a limited range of clothing would be for sale in in the coming weeks in one of the newly renovated stores on the riverfront.
Within an hour, they were sat at the long tables that run up the center of the room. Banners hung down from the wall; each carried a heraldic symbol showing the Eaorls that were present. There was one gap, and Octa pointed it out to him.
‘The Aebeling’s – it has been missing for almost fifty years.’
‘No progress today?’
‘None. But we were preoccupied with the fallout of the sheriff’s death. The Metgiend has cast out his bedda – luckily they had no children. The sheriff does have a family – a son that is a Thane. He is being banished. He has to sell his domain tomorrow and leave soon after. It seems his father has made a lot of enemies, and now it is their turn for revenge.’
Before Conn could get more information from him, Octa was whisked away to speak with another Eaorl. Conn continued to eat and drink alone; watching the scantily clad bodies of the servants carried meals and drinks from the kitchen, amongst the playing of the musicians. Conn was watching one particularly attractive and well-proportioned servant girl whose eyes unseeingly
lingered on him at regular moments, when a voice spoke at his side.
‘They are tempting, are they not, Thane? Do you intend to take one home with you tonight?’
Conn turned and looked at the speaker. He was surprised at the question as it came from the only bedda in the room – the bedda of the Eaorl of Asaak, Oran. Interestingly she was not wearing much more herself. She was now sitting where Octa had been minutes before. He had been introduced to the Eaorl as he arrived, and Oran was the least welcoming of all the Eaorl.
Octa explained that they all considered Oran to be an agent for the Moetian Healdend – two of his Bedda and even his mother were Moetians, and because he didn’t have a son to nominate as Aebeling, his veto was always the stumbling block. He had also been closest to the sheriff – he was a cousin of some sort.
‘I had not considered that far ahead.’ Conn answered diplomatically.
‘I don’t believe you. What about the daughters? Have you found one you like? Taking an Eaorl’s daughter as bedda could be a wise move for someone new to Lykia.’
‘They are a bit young for me.’
‘Unusual but encouraging. Most men seem to like their meat fresh and undercooked.’
The Eaorl’s bedda’s name was Ranait il Dahae from Moetia. She explained that she was in Lykiak because her bedda was taking Theogarda il Neh, just sixteen, and one of the many daughters of the Eaorl Swidhelm, as a bedda.
‘The Eoarl had been unable to have a son with any of his current bedda. He has eight daughters and as I am the eldest of his bedda, so it was my duty to agree to this new joining, and make way for a replacement. So he has taken something young and fertile – Theogarda’s mother had eight children – so we believe that she will soon provide him with an heir.’
‘So Theogarda will be his fourth bedda?’
‘No – he already has four – but I am no longer bedda – I am now Scylcen. I agreed to relinquish my position to one of lesser standing and authority. But you need the Metgiend’s approval to do so.’
Conn suspected that he would have been disappointed if he needed the Witan’s approval.
The Aebeling Page 15
