Month: August 2025

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Martha’s Tale

Caerel was sitting at a long table chatting with Myrthe, which Ala had noticed was the case more often than not. The serving girl, Alissa, Ala’s friend whom she knew from previous visits to the Inn, had just finished refilling their goblets with wine. She nodded to Ala with a smile when she saw her. Alissa always acted distant when she was in sight of the Innkeeper, Helmut. Myrthe and Caerel seemed to be getting on very well, as they had every evening of the trip. They genuinely seemed to enjoy one another’s company. Myrthe had been missing from the quarters she was supposed to share with Ala every night. Matt was in the back playing songs for some of the other patrons. He was a fair hand with a flute he had played them a few bawdy ballads on the trip back to Thetwick.

Ala headed for Caerel’s table. She was still a little wary of her interactions with Caerel since the incident on the practice field. She gestured to Martha to wait a moment.

“Lord Caerel, I found someone I know, a friend, from Thetwick among the travellers – they are in fact refugees – that are out in the common yard. Will you listen to what befell her, I beg of you? Her husband and sons were murdered by Oakharrowers. I have known her for twenty years, I think her story is important to hear.”

“Refugees you say? What is happening?”

“My friend, Martha Callumsdaughter has been on the receiving end of the Constables latest schemes. She can explain,” encouraged Ala, gesturing for Martha to come closer.

Caerel looked over at Myrthe, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Ala took note of the interaction. He apparently valued her opinion. For some reason it pleased Ala that their affair was something more than purely physical.

“Let’s invite her to sit with us, Lady Alagariel.”

“Martha, come and join us. This is Caerel de Duilhac, Lord of Taladaria and heir to the Duke. Next to him is Myrthe Lambertye, Priestess of Guanshiyin, over there is Matt of Duilhac as well as Lieutenant Hieronymus and Sergeant-Major Brugor of the Duke’s Regiment.”

Martha looked very uncomfortable, her eyes darting frantically over the people whose array of names and titles Ala had listed.

“Please sit down. Mistress Martha,” said Caerel, as gently as he could, “Lady Alagariel tells me you have suffered a great injustice in Thetwick, please, tell me your tale so that we might learn more of our adversaries and see justice done.”

Martha curtsied as best she could and looked at Ala uncertainly. After a moment Ala suddenly realised the poor woman was awed by the importance of the people assembled to listen to her. On top of all that, it occurred to Ala that Martha was just as mortified that she had been so familiar with her, as she had just been addressed as a noblewoman by Caerel, who was obviously expected to know about such things.

“Please sit Martha, Lord Caerel needs to know what happened. If we are to seek justice for all of your kin we must know as much as we can about the men from Oakharrow,” said Ala.

“Yes milady…. Milord, I’m sorry I must apologise I was so familiar with… Lady Alagariel earlier. I didn’t know…. no one did in Thetwick, I think.”

Caerel looked over at Ala, a little puzzled. Myrthe, ever socially astute, understood and saved the moment.

“Dear Martha, no one knew, not even Lady Alagariel herself. As you probably know better than I, she knew little of her family. We have since discovered a little more and one of those discoveries is indeed that she is of noble descent. There is no harm done. I am certain you know Lady Alagariel is not the sort to hold petty grudges. Please tell us your tale.”

Ala smiled at Martha, trying to coax her to start telling the tale and inviting her to sit once more. Martha repeated what she had told Ala, with more detail. A few days after Ala had punched her way out of the council hall, the Constable had ordered that the militia men should no longer keep their equipment at home, but that it should be stored centrally at the council hall. Most had complied.

“Foreigners started coming into town, the day after you left… err Lady Alagariel. By their accents I though they might be Oakharrowers, or perhaps some hailed from deeper in Selinus. Many of them were rough types and they were all armed. I heard Willard meant to form up the militia, but the Constable forbade it. He claimed that the foreigners were a ‘civil’ matter and that they had been hired to work some of his new fields…”

“New fields?” asked Ala.

“I think he may have meant Bernard’s fields, milady.”

“I see, please continue.”

“Almost immediately the ‘taxation’ started. Those men started loading carts with the spoils and they disappeared in the direction of Oakharrow. The Constables men rapidly became very brutal whenever anyone spoke against them.”

Martha explained what had happened to Tom, her sons and June. The leader of the ‘tax collectors’ was a man named Ancus, with a scar over his left eye. His accent was different to that of the men from Oakharrow. The taxation continued to increase in its intensity and the sanctions for not complying had swiftly become more severe. Merchant caravans who came to town were “taxed” in the same way. Some merchants were killed in the irregularities. Other merchants made for the Ford Inn. Soon, the word of the ‘taxation’ spread and the regular merchants had stopped travelling to Thetwick. Some of the militia men had been talking of sending a message to the Duke, but nothing had come of it, at least until Martha had seen the Duke’s men camped at the inn. Finally, Martha finished her story saying, “I’m not sure how it all suddenly started. It’s like they were waiting for Captain Bernard to die and Ala… sorry… Lady Alagariel, to leave.”

Caerel looked very angry, “Mistress Martha, these men who terrorise my grandfather’s loyal subjects will be punished. Thank you for telling me your tale. I can see that it was hard to speak of these injustices and I regret they befell you. I will do everything in the power of House de Duilhac to achieve justice and attempt to extract compensation from the culprits.”

Martha nodded. It wouldn’t change enough for her even if justice was served reflected Ala, but she seemed a little more at ease that something was at least being done.

The atmosphere among the Company changed after that. Martha was excused and what had looked to be another relaxed evening became more tense with the men clearly more wary and alert. Brugor headed outside to increase the guard and double check that the lookouts were posted in spots where they could see the surrounding approaches clearly. After the meal Myrthe asked Ala to join her and Caerel.

“It seems this Constable of yours has his eyes set on more than Bernard’s will,” said Caerel.

“I’m a bit shocked to be honest,” said Ala. “I hadn’t really dreamt that he could be actually be dealing with the Count of Oakharrow. Not like this, certainly. This is treason, is it not?”

“It means he has more support than just what he can press gang in Thetwick,” observed Myrthe.

Caerel nodded in agreement. “This is indeed more than just an abuse of power. I agree, it’s outright treason. I hope our strength will be sufficient to deal with this.”

“Even if it isn’t,” said Ala, “we should at least find out a little more about what’s going on. Bernard would have called it reconnaissance in force. Gordon Marchmain’s reappearance with these Oakharrow soldiers also reeks of cooperation that may stretch back for twenty years.”

She’d said it just as Brugor had returned from his rounds.

“Your teacher seems to have been a sound strategist, Lady Alagariel. I’d have liked to make his acquaintance,” said the Sergeant-Major.

“I’m sure you and him would have gotten along well. You seem… cut from the same cloth.”

“Heh, who knows. The elf-maid is right though, milord, a little aggressive reconnaissance would be my preference also.”

“I suppose that’s what we will do then. I’m still hoping we can set things right of course,” said Caerel, as if he felt the need to reiterate that the mission was still to restore the Duke’s Peace.

“Aye milord, we’ll do that if we can. Goin’ to need to be a wee bit more careful goin’ about it, nothin’ more. Just got to keep in mind that they might be with many more than we though.”

“Yes, Sergeant-Major. That is indeed prudent. I’m pleased we’re all in agreement.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

The Duke’s Peace

They made it to the Ford Inn without any incidents, if you didn’t consider torrential rain and the resulting stuck wagons an incident. Approaching from the Taladarian side of the Iceflow river, Ford Inn held a commanding position that overlooked the ford and offered a view some miles into Taladaria as well. Viewed from this side, Ala was certain it must have been built on the foundation of a castle or some other fortification in the time when Taladaria and the Westmarch weren’t united under the same Lord. The men of the Duke’s Regiment were accustomed to travelling from chartered Inn to chartered Inn in this manner. One had to be a Master with the Innkeeper’s guild to be allowed to run one of the chartered establishments along the official routes of the Caravanners Guild. The innkeepers along the route were all obligated to provide members of the Duke’s Regiment and anyone else who could show a document from the Duke proving permission with anything they lacked. The Duke’s factor would reimburse the innkeeper in question for whatever it had cost, at fixed rates. This was all assuming that Innkeeper could get a representative to go to Peyrepertuse to fetch the money. The alternative was to wait for the factor’s yearly rounds along the Duchy’s Caravan routes for the bills to be settled.

All this knowledge of the inner workings of Taladaria’s ducal system came from Myrthe, who had encyclopedic knowledge of seemingly everything in Taldyr. Her wisdom including detailed information on the mechanisms by which the Duchy was ruled and she was also able to explain that such systems worked more or less the same way throughout Selinus and Iurrak. The Guilds played an important role in making governing large domains manageable. Only Dukes, Princes and Kings were permitted and also obligated to maintain standing military units in Iurrak. Those regiments, mandated by the King had to be supplied by the chartered Inns throughout Iurruk, even if the Regiment was not in the fief it belonged. If one of the Dirua Regiments needed to be somewhere outside Dirua, then the Inns still had to supply them.

The last stop before the river had been in Hightower. Ala hadn’t stopped there on her journey to Peyrepertuse. She had passed it by to catch up to the caravan where she had met Myrthe weeks earlier. Even Matt managed the trip with nothing more than saddle sores and regular complaints. Ala had sort of hoped that the two Royal Customs Officers she had run into during her dash across the river might still be there, but there was no sign of them. The little building on the east bank of the Iceflow was empty. Ala would have liked to talk to them and found out what had happened after she passed them by. News along the route hadn’t been heartening. Rumours and accounts gathered by Myrthe and Matt from travellers out of Thetwick, told of brutality and other incidents with increasing frequency as they approached the Westmarch.

Strangely, the Innkeepers along their route through Sheffield had all reported bandit activity along the King’s Road seemed to have decreased in recent weeks, which was hard to comprehend. Ala thought that sponsored banditry out of Oakharrow should have been something that the Count would have been more than happy to be involved in. She and Bernard had always suspected that Sheffield’s unsafe roads were the Count of Oakharrow’s doing. It wasn’t their direct problem, but she knew Bernard had reported the suspicion to the Duke several times. Why then, had banditry seemed to decline since Bernard’s death? Where had the bandits gone? She was worried it had something to do with what was going on in the Westmarch. The closer they came to the Westmarch the more people seemed relieved to see their band flying the Duke’s colours arrive, as if they were long overdue.

They forded the Iceflow, which was presumably as cold as its name suggested in this time of year. The tracks at the Ford were less than Ala was used to. The Inn looked quiet too. Trade was less than had been customary a just few weeks earlier. That too was out of the ordinary, it was the time of the year for increasing trade. The only thing that ought to slow it down was if the Iceflow grew too deep because of melt water. It wasn’t at its shallowest, but it wasn’t anything that would stop a caravan. It was another indication that not all was as it should be.

“It’s more quiet than it usually is this time of year,” said Ala.

“Surely the death of a militia Captain doesn’t normally affect trade?” Myrthe wondered.

“Shouldn’t should it? Unless that made the roads a lot less safe or something,” suggested Matt.

“Whatever the Constable has been doing since I left, might though,” Ala said.

When they rode into the Inn’s courtyard it was doubly clear that there were far fewer merchants at the Inn than there should be. The King’s Road that they had travelled from Peyrepertuse to High Tower had had its normal share of activity. Merchants must be bypassing the Westmarch, Ala decided. They were turning north at Hightower instead of continuing West to trade mounts in Thetwick as they might have only a month earlier. The stream of people and goods to and from Thetwick had obviously decreased. Aside from the lack of merchants, there were more travellers than usual, people who had belongings with them. People sometimes moved or travelled to live with family, but it was a rarity. There were quite a lot of such people at the Ford Inn, which was unusual.

“This is not normal for the Ford Inn in spring,” said Ala as she dismounted. The Inn didn’t have the vibrant look she was accustomed to seeing after the winter. It looked empty, even sad and the numerous travellers she could see weren’t engaging in any of the usual commerce.

Ala walked around the inside of the walled caravan enclosure and in a corner, under a roof that was meant for storing farm equipment, found a group of several families that were travelling with what belongings they had managed to load onto a small donkey cart. What they looked like, Ala decided, was refugees. She was about to ask a question when she realised she recognised one of them. The woman was Martha Callumsdaughter whom she’d known since the tragic day when Martha’s half sister and father had been murdered. Martha had witnessed Gordon Marchmain doing it when she was only twelve years old.

Ala had remained friendly with the woman ever since and she was now the wife of a farmer. Martha was an attractive woman in her mid thirties with auburn hair. She was wearing a rough brown dress and a green headscarf that only allowed a few wisps of her hair to escape. Ala was certain she had still lived at Piersson Steading, close to Thetwick’s southern edge, with her husband just a few weeks earlier. Ala had stopped at their farm many times to water the horses when she was riding patrols with the militia.

“Martha? Martha Callumsdaughter?”

Martha’s features changed to surprised recognition when Ala approached. “Alagariel? Truly? Whatever brings you here? It’s not safe for you, you know! You should go back to where ever you disappeared to! Not that it’s not good to see you, mind, but it really is dangerous in the Westmarch now.”

“I know it is.”

“Wait… did you just arrive with the Duke’s soldiers?”

Ala nodded, “I did. It’s good to see you though I am most alarmed to run into you here. What happened that you are here with your family and belongings? Where is Tom?”

She saw Martha’s eyes water and her lips tense up, giving Ala an unspoken answer.

Ala spoke softly, “tell me what happened?”

It was difficult for her to speak, “Tom… he died….”

“Please tell me what happened… this.. this was no accident I take it? You wouldn’t be here fleeing with your family, otherwise, I think.”

“No… he was murdered… and John and Henry too.”

Ala was shocked. Martha’s husband and two sons were both dead.

“Gods…. Martha… I’m here with the Duke’s men, we are on our way to Thetwick.”

“There is great trouble there, Ala.”

“The Duke sent us to arrest the Constable and make certain ducal authority in the Westmarch is safeguarded in future. Please tell me what happened? It’s important to know.”

“They killed Tom and my boys. They stood up to them and they killed all of them! Laughed as they did it…”

“OK, now. Take a breath… start at the beginning. Who did it? Was it the Constable?”

“They have something to do with the Constable, he calls them his ‘enforcement squad’ or summin’. From their accents, I think they’re from Oakharrow or further… and Ala…”

“What?”

“I think one of them may have been Gordon Marchmain.”

Just hearing the name made Ala’s blood boil again. Martha had seen Gordon Marchmain murder her father and sister two decades before.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“Not sure… and I’m certain he didn’t recognise me. But I think so. I remember him. When they left June and I took what we could and fled, that night, we gave Thetwick as wide a berth as we could and came here.”

“You don’t think Marchmain was back for revenge?”

“It seems not… what I’ve heard from the other… refugees… what the Oakharrowers were doing… it was the same at all the farms. When I saw him, I was frightened… but now I think he wasn’t really after me. Oakharrowers were doing the same everywhere….”

“But then… it is the new constable who has Oakharrow men in his employ? Gordon would be… his uncle would he not?”

“I think so, yes.”

“It certainly offers a clue about the connection.”

“Marchmain wasn’t their leader… when they came, they were led by a Knight, though he bore no colours. He gave the orders, though he left while they were being carried out… the man I think was Marchmain… was, a sergeant or the like.”

Things were worse than Ala had imagined possible. Ala’s mind raced. Was that why the raiders had been so good at eluding the militia? How long had the Constable been colluding with the Oakharrowers, she wondered? Could this be where all the bandits had gone?

“The Constable has brought in these soldiers from Oakharrow?”

“Yes. They have a camp around three hundred yards up the creek from Thetwick. About a week after you left, they came round the first time, Gordon and the Knight and more men. They said there had been a tax increase. Took all our best provisions, everything we had been meaning to take to market. I heard some men, militia men stood up to them, like Willard. I heard Gordon and his men killed him and those with him.”

“Gordon Marchmain killed Willard?” said Ala, shocked. Willard had been her second in the militia for years.

“I don’t know that he did, personally. I only heard talk that it was him.”

Ala took a deep breath, recovering, “Best tell me the rest.”

“Two weeks later they came again, Gordon and his men. Said it was tax time again. Tom told them no. They killed him… and my boys and… and… they took my eldest daughter, June… took turns…”

Ala felt her blood run cold. She took a deep breath to steady herself and then attempted to speak as normally as possible.

“I cannot bring your husband and sons back or reverse what happened to your daughter, Martha. I am so sorry Martha, that such tragedy has found you again. I can promise you these men will pay for what they have done and I will find Gordon Marchmain too. I know it is a poor consolation.”

Martha’s face became very intent, “I feel it will offer a little satisfaction, at least.”

Ala nodded before continuing, “Lord Caerel, the Duke’s grandson is here. Will you relate to him what you told me?”

“Lord Caerel…? He’s the Duke’s actual grandson? Truly? Yes, yes. of course I will come. But I look a state…”

“He will understand, Martha. Please come with me to the inn, we’ll find him.”

If you wish to receive the weekly installment to this story in your inbox, please subscribe to the newsletter below.

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Chapter 5: Homecoming

It has long been challenging for a Lord to exert his authority over unruly underlings. Many a relationship between a vassal and his lord has grown sour for lack of a lord effectively managing his relationship with his vassals. Even if there is no vassal who may be prone to delusions of grandeur, this is still no guarantee that a lord’s authority will remain uncontested. Many a lord is forced to defend his title within his own borders, even in times of relative peace. It is to be encouraged for a Lord to forge bonds of alliance and marriage with his vassals. Shared economic interest is another strategy that can contribute to a stable bond between a Lord and his vassals. This is not enough however and a Lord should diligently and regularly visit every corner of his realm, doing so is absolutely vital to its integrity. Failing to maintain such bonds can lead to a collapse of the relationship and even become dangerous for everyone involved as such problems can easily result in charges of treason or violent revolt by a vassal.

While a canny lord may be tempted to administer a fief himself, simply dispensing with giving it in vassalage to anyone, this tends to lead to even greater problems. A realm of any significant size requires day to day supervision and a Lord simply cannot be everywhere at once. Hence, a fief directly administered without its lords very regular presence is very likely to lead to unpleasant surprises brewing up in the unsupervised fief. This is one of the many reasons why the practice of giving more than one regnant title to a single person, should absolutely be avoided.

From the book “On Kingship” by Selinus IV, “The Scholar”, King of Selinus, circa 260

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Return to the Westmarch

Eventually, the warband had taken shape. The whole company ended up numbering almost fourty. Caerel was in overall command, fulfilling the role of Captain. There was a troop of ten experienced cavalrymen with mail, shields, swords and long spears, mounted on Frisian destriers that had all been bred in the Westmarch. Next were ten of the Duke’s elite mounted pikemen with five-yard-pikes, shields, light crossbows, and swords. They were mounted on lighter steeds. Last were ten mounted archers. They were equipped with short swords and longbows, which they had to dismount to employ. There was also a small supply train with wagons and crossbow armed teamsters to transport feed, tents and everything else that was needed when a warband travelled.

The gruff Sergeant-Major, Brugor, was assigned to the expedition as well. Ala assumed he would be granted early retirement and made Captain of the Westmarch Militia if things went according to plan. Myrthe had explained it was a customary posting for competent senior enlisted men who were nearing retirement age. Ala wondered who they had in mind to take the post of Constable. Perhaps the Duke would send someone on after them for the job or maybe they would select another Thetwick local to do it. She wondered who she might recommend, if she was consulted. Probably Harald, she decided. Not that it was a pressing problem, a Captain could certainly look after a Constable’s duties for a while if needed.

Myrthe had asked Ala to try to teach her to meditate, but the priestess was absent from her bedchamber every time Ala went to look for her. She could guess where she was and what she was doing of course. She judged it unlikely that practising meditation had the highest priority and gave up on it, deciding to let Myrthe take the initiative.

It had taken a week to gather the supplies, people and horses. They left Peyrepertuse a little after dawn on First, a full week after the eventful session of the Duke’s Court. The weather was clear and only marred by the occasional spring shower. Caerel was mounted on an enormous white Percheron at the head of the column, with a guard Lieutenant named Hieronymus assigned as second in command by his side. Hieronymus was a tall, gaunt man, his brown hair greying, who had been in the guard forever. Gladiuth had told her he never really seemed likely to hold more than the Lieutenant’s rank he now held. It was clear that the Duke intended for Caerel to do the leading and Brugor was there to keep an eye on him. Why Hieronymus had been selected to come along wasn’t really clear to Ala? Perhaps the Duke didn’t want a powerful personality influencing Caerel’s leadership? Ala didn’t really see why the man had been sent along.

The baggage train consisted of five wagons filled with supplies. Each was drawn by two quick draft horses so they could keep up a good pace. They were intending to travel at twice the speed of an ox drawn caravan, meaning they should be able to make it to Thetwick in around eight days. A week’s practice had taught Matt how to sit on a horse without falling off. They had found him a gentle but energetic brown mare that wasn’t likely to scare easily and throw him. He wouldn’t be doing any lance charges, but neither was he going to fall off at the first sign of trouble. Ala was riding Fulgor and the Duke had let Myrthe pick one of the guard horses, an energetic grey gelding named Peter. Alagariel had dared to ride through Duilhac without her hood up. People stopped to stare and point at Myrthe who was riding beside Ala as they rode by.

“Myr, why are they pointing and staring at you?”

“Oh Ala, you dolt, you’re so naive. It’s not me. Do you have any idea what these people see when you ride by?”

“I don’t understand what you mean?”

“What do you think you look like in mail with those pointy ears and that red-golden hair and a cape trailing behind you, seated on an eighteen hand black stallion, surrounded by the Duke’s soldiers and colours?”

“Well you certainly make it sound like it should be something cool…”

“It’s like something out of a faerytale. You touch the imagination, which, as I understand it, is precisely what your people have done for elvenkind for millennia! Truly, how can you not understand that they’re looking at you? Gods, you’re so oblivious sometimes!”

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