by Peter Grant
Owain looked around at the rest of the patrol. “Since your commander has not given you any orders, I suggest you gather on the far side of the ford and wait for him there.” Several of the troopers muttered assent as they turned and trudged back across the stream. One or two even wore broad grins, as if enjoying their officer’s discomfiture.
The advancing force deployed into line a few hundred yards before reaching the ford, then advanced slowly, to halt about fifty yards before the stream. Ahead of them, the Earl rode a large, imposing horse. Its size might have been intimidating, except that its strength was clearly needed to carry its rider’s excessive weight. The Earl was middle-aged, portly, his ample flesh straining against armor that had clearly been made to fit a much thinner man. Gaps showed between its plates, held together by extended leather straps. A six-man escort accompanied him, carrying spears with pennons flying, and a dozen of his officers. They reined in their horses on the far side of the ford.
“What is this nonsense?” the Earl demanded brusquely. “You have no authority to stop me or my men, King’s Champion!”
“On the contrary, my lord,” Owain responded, as politely as he could. “The District Judge of Atheldorn, whom I remind you holds his office under Royal Warrant, has already made findings of fact concerning the situation in the Barony of Brackley. His findings explicitly acknowledge my competence to deal with that situation, due to its threat to the security of the Kingdom. What’s more, when I visited Kingsholme last month, the King’s Council agreed that my intervention in Brackley was both legal and legitimate.”
“Then why did the Council not inform me of that decision?”
“There was no need for that, my lord. You were no longer in violation of the laws of the Kingdom by illegally occupying another noble’s patrimony. Furthermore, you had never approached the Council to legitimize your invasion of Brackley and expulsion of its rightful suzerain. There was therefore nothing to discuss with you, and no need for rulings that you had never requested.”
“You mean I have to take your word alone that the Council acted as you said it did?”
“No, my lord,” the Abbott said calmly. “The Abbott of our Mother House is a member of the Council, as you know. He attended its meeting concerning this matter, and reported its proceedings to the assembled priest-mages of the Mother House. They included myself and my contingent, who were staying there at the time. I can therefore bear witness that the Champion’s account is correct.”
“Bah! Hearsay! You were not there!”
“Are you challenging the word of the senior Abbott of our Order, my lord?” The Abbott’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Are you saying that a man of his stature cannot be trusted – not to mention the King’s Champion himself?”
The Earl spat contemptuously into the dirt beside his horse. “I will accept an official communication from the Council concerning this matter, but nothing less! In the absence of any letter or messenger from them, I am going to reoccupy Brackley. I shall retain possession of it unless and until the Council orders otherwise.”
“And I say to you that you will not do so, my Lord.” Owain’s voice was flat, emphatic. “If you try, I shall enforce the edicts of the District Judge of Atheldorn, and proclaim you outlaw, along with anyone who continues to obey you.”
The Abbott nodded. “And we shall obey the same edicts, my lord, and use our powers to prevent your force crossing into Brackley.”
The nobleman exploded, “You are all scoundrels, lickspittle toadies of that oaf Brackley! You will not thwart me! King’s Champion, get out of my way, or face my sword!”
A stunned silence fell over his officers, and the troops behind them. They all understood what the Earl had just implied. Owain could hardly believe the Earl’s foolishness, but made one last attempt to resolve the situation. “Was that a personal challenge to me, my lord? Do you dispute my authority?”
“Yes, and yes!”
Owain sighed. The die was cast now. He ran his eyes over the officers grouped behind the Earl, and recognized a face. “Seneschal Kayter, is that you?”
“It is, King’s Champion.” The man’s voice was bitter, resentful, but also guarded and wary. He clearly understood the legal peril in which he and the others now stood.
“Very well. Have you conveyed to the Earl, and to his officers, the findings of fact made by the District Judge of Atheldorn when you were expelled from Brackley Castle?”
“I have, King’s Champion.”
“Very well. That means all of you are aware of the authority under which I now act. Earl Elspeth, you have openly challenged my authority as King’s Champion, and the rulings of the District Judge. I therefore proclaim that you are in rebellion against the laws of this Kingdom, and in consequence, I declare you outlawed. Seneschal Kayter, I appoint you as temporary, interim administrator for the Earldom of Elspeth until the King’s Council can rule on the matter. You will answer to the Council for your stewardship.”
The Earl tried to protest, but Owain continued, raising his voice, his tone implacable. “I accept the challenge of the Earl to face his sword. I shall now cross the ford, and give him the opportunity to make good on that. The rest of you officers are to return to your force, taking the Earl’s escort with you. Hold your force in its present position unless and until I order you to do otherwise. Any disobedience will result in your being outlawed immediately.”
“That presumes you will be able to order them to do anything, after facing me!” the Earl blustered.
“Yes, it does, my lord.” Owain started his horse forward. It stepped into the stream as he reached over his shoulder to retrieve his battle-axe.
The officers and the Earl’s escort began to turn their horses back towards the main body; but the Earl screamed in inarticulate fury as he seized a spear from the nearest of his escorts, and dug his heels into his horse’s ribs. The animal jumped in surprise and broke into a gallop as it charged towards the ford. The others reined in their mounts in confusion, turning to stare at their suzerain in shock and disbelief at his abandonment of the ritual of the formal challenge he had issued.
Owain was taken by surprise as much as any of them, but his years of combat had prepared him. At the Earl’s first movement, he spurred his horse forward, hurrying to get out of the water before the other could reach him. He knew the nobleman’s much larger, heavier horse would knock his own off its feet if it hit him at a full charge. He wanted firm footing underneath, so that he could steer his mount and help it to evade the other.
His lip curled in disgust as he saw the Earl fumble with the spear, trying to couch it under his right arm like a lance. I can’t kill him like this, he thought to himself. He’s so inept, it wouldn’t be a fair fight; more like an execution – and his officers and soldiers would know it. I have to gain their respect, so that they want to obey me. I can’t do that if I cut down the Earl like so much cordwood.
As the Earl charged towards him, Owain feinted to his left. He saw the nobleman’s charger begin to turn to the right, following his movements, and instantly tugged at his reins, throwing his weight to the other side. His well-trained horse responded instantly. The Earl tried to correct the alignment of his spear, but its movement was blocked by his horse’s neck and head. Its point thrust harmlessly past Owain’s left arm.
In reply, Owain lifted his battle-axe and swung it left-handed at the Earl’s head, turning it so that the flat of the blade struck full on his opponent’s helmet, driving the nose guard back into his face. Blood spurted as his nose was smashed by the impact. The Earl reeled in his saddle, dropping the lance with a cry of pain. Before he could recover, Owain reined his horse around, rode up to him, and threw him bodily out of his saddle. The nobleman landed on the ground with a crash and clatter of armor, gasping as the wind was driven from his body. He lay there, sobbing for breath.
Owain dismounted, slung his axe over his back once more, and took the sword and dagger from the Earl’s belt. Holding them in his hands, he turned to the waiting
troops and called loudly, “Seneschal Kayter, come forward! Bring the Earl’s officers with you.” They rode forward slowly, wide-eyed, murmuring among themselves as they gazed at their fallen erstwhile leader.
“You heard the Earl’s challenge, and saw what occurred. Will you bear witness to it before the King’s Council?”
“I – I will, Sir Champion,” Kayter said miserably, and the others nodded and murmured their agreement.
“Very well. I charge each of you to prepare individual accounts of all that you saw and heard this morning. Seneschal, gather them up, and send them to the Council in Kingsholme by the fastest available means. The Abbott and his priest-mages will do the same, so I suggest your testimony be as accurate as possible.” Another murmur of understanding as they glanced at the clerics. Any disagreement with multiple reports from the Order would likely go badly for the witness concerned.
“I shall take the Earl with me, under arrest,” Owain continued. “I shall hale him before the Council as soon as possible. Seneschal Kayter, see to the administration of the Earldom in his absence, until the Council makes other arrangements.”
“I will, Sir Champion.” The seneschal’s voice was quiet and subdued. Clearly, he’d been shaken to the core by this outburst of violence. “What… what shall I do with all the men-at-arms the Earl hired recently? We cannot afford to pay them if there is no work for them.”
“I suggest you discharge them, taking care to recover any equipment and weapons issued to them. Be sure that you pay them all they are owed, to prevent any unfortunate incidents. Have trusted men escort them to the boundary of the Earldom, for the same reason. If any are worried about their future, I know the Baron of Brackley is still hiring good men. You can advise those you discharge to approach him, if they wish; but warn them that he chooses his men-at-arms carefully, and has very high standards, so only the best should apply.”
“I – I will tell them, Sir Champion.”
“Very well. Two of you officers, assist the Earl to take off his armor. Take it back to his castle. He will not need it as my prisoner.”
XVI
“The fact of it is, my lord, the Earl’s arrest puts us in a very difficult position.” Owain paced up and down the Earl’s office, brow furrowed in thought. A fire crackled in the grate, and his audience sipped on mugs of mulled wine against the cool of an early autumn evening as they listened.
“How so?” the Baron asked from his seat behind the desk.
“I’ve promised to hale him before the Council as quickly as I can. That means sending him to Kingsholme – but who’s to escort him? I can’t. I have business across the border. You can’t. You must see to the restoration of order in your Barony. Not only that, the Earldom of Elspeth is now disrupted, without a strong leader. It probably won’t be able to offer much resistance if the Graben come across the border in force. If that happens, Brackley will need to be a strong bulwark, to defend this part of the Kingdom and slow down the invaders until reinforcements can reach you.”
“I can’t do that with less than a hundred and fifty men-at-arms!” the Baron objected.
“I know you can’t. I hope many of those to be released from the Earldom’s service will come here, seeking employment. I’ll give you the remainder of my Graben loot before I leave. There’s still a few hundred gold cruzados left. Set aside what I’ve promised to the members of the patrol, and use the balance to hire and equip more men-at-arms, and buy horses. I said earlier you might need as many as two hundred troops in your Baronial Guard. Right now, if you can double that, so much the better.”
“But how can I possibly recruit, train and command them all?” the nobleman demanded. “I’ve got the entire Barony to administer, and you’re taking my guard commander with you!” He indicated Major Achel, who was seated across the room.
“That’s the next problem,” Owain admitted. “You’re going to need Major Achel more than ever. Furthermore, if I leave as planned, who’s going to escort the Earl to Kingsholme? It can’t be just anyone. He’s a senior nobleman, so his escort should be commanded by an officer of noble birth himself. The only person we have available right now who fits that bill is Garath; but if he takes on that duty, he can’t come with me. If Major Achel stays here as well, to help you, then if anything happens to me, the patrol won’t have any officers to lead it.”
There was a long, worried silence as his audience considered their options. The Abbott broke it at last. “There is another thing that you probably did not know,” he said thoughtfully. “There were scrying spells watching us at the ford this morning.”
Owain’s head rose, his eyes suddenly gleaming. “Scrying spells? Whose?”
“The likeliest suspects are those sorcerers across the border. I’m certain they’ve been trying to trace you with their spells, but they didn’t work, of course, because of your amulet. However, they would have seen your fight with the Earl. If he suddenly charged at a blank space in their scrying spell, and that blank space knocked him off his horse… what do you suppose they concluded?”
“They would have realized that the blank space must be Owain,” Major Achel said softly.
“Precisely. What’s more, they would have seen the Earl’s arms bound behind his back, then watched him loaded onto his horse, which was led away towards Brackley by that same blank space in their spells. They will therefore know that the Earl is under arrest. They will doubtless surmise that he is to be sent to Kingsholme for trial. Who do you suppose they will expect to escort him there?”
“Of course!” Garath erupted. “They’ll believe Owain is going to escort him! As King’s Champion, he’s the logical choice!”
“Yes. That being the case, they won’t expect him to cross their border and scout for information. They’ll believe he’ll be preoccupied with the Earl.”
“Another thing,” Owain said broodingly. “If – as I expect – Elspeth is stripped of his Earldom for his conduct, who will replace him? He has no children. I think I’ll write to the Duke of Gehlen, asking him to have the Council consider whether you, Baron, might not be a worthy candidate to be elevated to Earl and take over Elspeth in his place.” There was a concerted gasp from his listeners. “That would mean you’d have to give up Brackley, but your oldest son could assume the Barony. That would put two strong, worthy, honest noblemen in positions that are of great importance to the Kingdom’s security at present.”
“I think the Council will be very interested to hear your suggestion, King’s Champion,” the Abbott agreed. “After I speak with the Abbott of our Mother House, I think he will support it. If you let me have your proposal in writing, I’ll use spellcraft to convey it to our Mother House tomorrow, and ask the Abbott there to take it to the Duke.”
“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” the Baron confessed. “This is the last thing I would have expected! I don’t want it… but as you say, it may be the best solution for the Kingdom, not just the Barony of Brackley.”
He thought for a moment, then turned to Achel. “Major, I need you even more than I did before. I must enlarge my Baronial Guard to protect against further raids, or even a full-scale invasion, as Owain has said. I can’t spare you to go on patrol with him, and even less can I spare you to join the Border Guard or the Royal Guard. I can offer you this, though. I’ll pay you a bonus of ten – no, twenty gold cruzados at once, if you’ll agree to stay with me. What’s more, if Owain’s suggestion is approved by the King’s Council, an Earl’s guard is headed by a Colonel, not a Major. I’m certainly not going to retain the Earl’s present commander. I’ll need someone I can trust in that position – namely, you. If you’re willing to take a chance on my being raised to the Earldom, I think your future will be bright.”
Achel smiled broadly. “How can I refuse an offer like that? If the King’s Champion agrees, I’ll stay with you, my lord.”
Owain nodded, also smiling. “I agree, the Baron will need you more than I do, so I’ll release you from my patrol. That brings up anoth
er point. Remember, we need an officer of suitable stature to escort the Earl to Kingsholme. Garath, you’re already a Lieutenant in the Baronial Guard. Major Achel, do you think he’s ready for a Captaincy yet?”
“Based on what I’ve learned of him while you were gone, watching him train our troops and exercise with them, he’s well on the way to that. He’s not there yet, but he’s not far from that level, either.”
“Then how about this, my lord? I have commissions from the Duke of Gehlen for a Captaincy and a Lieutenancy in the Border Guard. I’m prepared to commission Garath as a Captain, with the proviso that when he reports to the Duke, he tells him honestly that he still needs seasoning in that rank. The Duke will understand, I’m sure. That means Garath will have the noble birth, and the rank, required to command the Earl’s escort to Kingsholme. He’ll need a troop of a dozen cavalrymen for the purpose, and a coach for the Earl.”
The Baron grinned. “The coach is easy. Elspeth kept a very ornate one here for his use. His men were kind enough to leave it behind when they departed. I’ve already improved it by painting my baronial coat of arms on the doors.” Everyone laughed. “You’re taking most of my best horses with you, but I think we can find enough usable mounts for the escort. However, what about you? If Major Achel stays with me, and Garath goes to Kingsholme, you’ll have no officers of your own.”
“Not necessarily. Troop Sergeant Maran has impressed me. Does he have the makings of an officer?”
There was silence for a moment as the others considered carefully. Achel said slowly, “I think he does, King’s Champion. He’s of common birth, and hasn’t had the advantage of a good education, but his tactical sense is sound, and he understands soldiers very well. I think he could start as a Cornet right away, possibly even a Lieutenant. Given help with his education, and the right seasoning, I think he can develop into a good officer over time – in a local unit, that is. He might not fare so well in an Army regiment, where social status matters more.”
