The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (25 page)

“And so, you simply gave up,” Marak junior spat contemptuously.

“No. No, we didn't,” his father protested indignantly. “Uppam, myself an a few others stayed and we tried to prepare the city for a siege. We reckoned that if we could hold out for a week, or even a few days, that would be enough for the army to come to our rescue. But it was no use. Everything around us broke down and crumbled. Messengers we sent to the city gates never returned. Appeals to the population to man the walls had no effect. We couldn't even close the gates. Too many people wanted to get out and they threatened to kill the guards if they didn't let them through. And still we didn't give up. Uppam and myself didn't sleep during the sixth nor the seventh. With the few men, and there were pitiful few of them left, that didn't want to surrender the city to the enemy without a blow, we did what we could. Weapons were distributed. The wall was divided into sectors and captains were appointed to take command of each of them. Further appeals were made to those who stayed to report to the captains. It all amounted to so little...”

“So, in the end it all came to nothing?”

“In the early evening of the seventh Uppam received a visitor who showed him some parchments. Credentials, I suppose. They retired in the mayor's private office. I could hear Uppam shouting from time to time, but I couldn't make out what he was going on about. Half an hour later the visitor left. When I entered his office, Uppam sat behind his desk, a broken man. The army wasn't coming. Not now. Not in a week. The army wasn't coming at all. They were just going to prevent the Mukthars from penetrating further inland.”

“Who was that visitor? Who had sent him?”

“I don't know. Uppam never told me. After a few cups of wine, he simply said that it was no use anymore. We could have hoped to hold out for a few days. A week at the most. Maybe. We certainly couldn't stand a prolonged siege without help from outside. He said he was going home, and leaving the city himself the next day and urged me to do the same. It would be all right, he added. The city might burn, but the Forty wouldn't lose one copper sarth in the process. He guaranteed it. What was I to do? I was twenty two years old and I had a young family. You were six and your oldest sister was four. Was I to send you here, to our estate, in safety and stay behind myself? Why? To die a useless death when we were abandoned by those who should have protected us? When my peers had already fled?”

Marak junior looked at his father and suddenly realized that he still agonized over the decision he had eventually taken, all those years ago.

“No,” he said softly, “it seems you have done all you possibly could. There is no shame in running when the situation is desperate and to hope to fight another day.”

“Still, it was not an easy decision to make. I waited until I was sure Uppam had passed the city gates, before we took the road to safety. I can truly say that I was the last of the Forty to leave. There should be some comfort in that, but, really, there isn't. Not much, anyway.”

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he had a splitting headache. The second that his mouth was dry and that his tongue felt as old leather. Birnac Maelar had been a doctor long enough to guess that the first symptom was caused by a blow on the head and probably drugs, later administered. The second symptom was caused by severe dehydration. Then he noticed the distinct smell of manure.

He opened his eyes and startled in an upright position, or that was what he tried, because he bumped his head against a low ceiling of metal latticework. He looked around him and found himself locked in a metal cage, completely naked, together with three pigs, slightly larger than himself. The height of the cage permitted him to move around, but only on hands and knees. Two troughs, one with water and one with leaves of some kind of vegetable. He crawled to the one with water and although it looked none too fresh he dipped his lips into it and drank. His thirst alleviated, he began to study his surroundings. The cage was fastened to the stone floor of some kind of barn. In what little light that came through a few small windows he could see that there was another cage with enormous, black swine. Against a wall stood some typical farming instruments.

Once he had gotten used to his surroundings, panic struck. Where was he? Who had brought him here and why? And who dared to treat the great doctor Maelar, practically a noble, like this? But the fact that he was locked up, naked, in a cage with swine meant that whoever was responsible was very likely not impressed with his social standing. He shouted to try to get the attention of someone, anyone. After several attempts, he gave up and decided to wait. Sooner or later someone had to come in to take care of the pigs. And him.

Suddenly he felt sharp pangs of hunger. He must have been out of it for days. The leaves in the second trough appeared to be cabbage. Birnac didn't digest cabbage too well, even cooked. Still, since there was nothing else to be had, he selected a few leaves that seemed reasonably clean and began gingerly munching on one. It tasted bitter, but it was better than nothing and, as a doctor, he knew he had to eat something. As he had expected the raw cabbage leaves gave him stomach cramps.

After an hour or so he noticed that his meal had another unfortunate effect. It made him uncontrollably flatulent. Every few minutes he had to release a thunderous, foul smelling wind. The first times his cohabitants looked up, but they soon got used to the noise.

Looking through gaps in a wooden wall, Emelasuntha watched her prisoner with some fascination.

“It's sobering really,”
she thought,
“how easy it is to reduce a human being to the state of an animal. You just take away some paraphernalia like clothing and put him in another environment. I bet that if I were to keep him there for a few months he would simply adapt to the swine lifestyle. A pity, but I haven't got the time to experiment. But a few days, well, they are necessary to take his hope away and mollify his spirit.”

Once a day a man came into the barn and without speaking threw a few buckets of water over the cage. The floor was slightly tilted, which made the excrements, his and that of the swine, flow into a gutter at the front of the cage. Then the man replenished the water in one trough and the cabbage leaves in the other. Cabbage leaves, always cabbage leaves. Birnac tried to speak to the man. He shouted, he cried, he promised him anything, everything, just for telling him where he was, but the man could as well have been deaf for all the reaction he got.

All the while he had to compete with the swine for the cabbage.

Anaxantis had preferred to go himself to the offices of the clerks. The head had received him, astonished and a bit uneasy that one of the lord governors had deigned to come to their stuffy rooms. It was still called the offices of the clerks, but in fact all administration of the Northern Marches was to be found here. When Anaxantis asked for someone with a legal background, the head had hesitatingly advised him to speak with a young man, called Tomar Parmingh.

“Undisciplined and often defiant of authority, my lord, but without a doubt a brilliant legal mind. In fact, that we were lucky enough to get him was because his unruly tongue had brought him in difficulties several times. Otherwise, who knows, he would probably be something higher up in the Royal Administration. He is an officially accredited notary, after all,” he explained while he led the way to Tomar's office.

Once the head had introduced Tomar to Anaxantis he had left the office and discreetly closed the door behind him, after giving his underling a last stern look. The notary was a young man in his late twenties, with a sharp face and short blond hair. He seemed to wear a permanent expression of mild surprise, mingled with just a smidgen of disdain, on his face. His brown eyes looked curiously into a world they seemed to find a bit distasteful.

He bade the Lord Governor to sit down.

Since there was no way to broach the subject delicately, Anaxantis told him right out that he wanted documents drafted for an official renunciation of lineage under the laws promulgated by Portonas III. Tomar had looked blankly at him, but Anaxantis could almost see his mind working at top speed.

“And I want them by late afternoon. I want this done and over with quickly. The official renunciation is to take place this evening.”

“Before he has the chance to change his mind.”

“Very well, my lord, that should be no problem, though it was a long, long time ago since the last renunciation of lineage took place.” He looked Anaxantis directly in the eyes. “However, the laws are still on the books. Who is renouncing his lineage?”

He took a quill and a scrap of parchment to take notes and sat down behind his desk.

“My brother.”

Tomar startled and looked up in surprise, but a second later his expression was all neutral and professional again.

“He gives himself in the hands of the king, I suppose?”

“No, in mine.”

Now, it was with downright, clearly visible admiration that Tomar looked up to the young lord governor. He permitted a thin, dry smile to flicker for an instant on his face. An instant was all Anaxantis needed to notice it.

“There should at least be a minimal reason for the renunciation.”

“My brother feels he is not up to the responsibilities and the tasks his rank requires of him,” Anaxantis almost whispered.

“Yes, I see. Have you given it any thought what is to become of the assets of, eh, your brother? You are aware that they revert to the crown, unless you have taken appropriate measures?”

Anaxantis blushed.

“Damn. I forgot all about that. That his estates would be lost couldn't be prevented, but his liquid assets. Damn. Damn. I should have thought about that. Too late. I cannot postpone the renunciation.”

As it seemed that Anaxantis was debating whether he would ask further questions, Tomar decided to volunteer some advice.

“If the person in question has easily movable assets... oh, well, money, we could still arrange something by being, eh, creative with the date. If certain transactions were agreed upon and concluded yesterday, that would be perfectly legal. Even if they reached the bank at Ormidon much later. Ormidon is far away, after all. It wouldn't even require the express consent of the concerned party. His seal would be sufficient. I could draft such a document. But, of course, you are the only one of us to know the true intent of your brother.”

“I see. I'll ask him. But to cover all eventualities it is probably sensible to prepare this document.”

“Very good, the drafts will be ready by noon. You can look them over before the actual documents are written out.”

Anaxantis thought for a few moments.

“Bring the drafts to me at the training grounds in the woods. I will send one of my guards to fetch you.”

When Tomar, carrying a leather shoulder bag, arrived at the clearing in the woods he was immediately spotted by the lord governor, who motioned him to approach. He and some friends had clearly been exercising, judging by his flushed face.

“Everything is ready?” Anaxantis asked while he dipped his hands in a bucket with ice cold water and wiped his face.

“Yes, I have the drafts here, for your inspection.”

Tomar tapped his shoulder bag.

Anaxantis dried his face with a towel.

“Follow me,” he said.

They went to sit under a tree where they had a an overview of the clearing, but could not be heard by the others. Tomar handed the lord governor the drafts. Anaxantis studied them carefully.

“That seems to be in order, master Parmingh,” he said at last with some sadness creeping in his voice.

Tomar, who had noticed, looked up in surprise.

“Second thoughts, My Lord? Sorry... it is not my place—”

“No, it's all right. And no, not exactly second thoughts, but it seems all so... so final.”

Tomar thought for a while.

“Every law that was ever made can be undone. The renunciation can be revoked, I suppose, but only by the high king himself.”

Anaxantis sighed. He handed the drafts back to Tomar.

“Take note, please. I want some people summoned for this evening at the great hall in the tower of Lorseth Castle.”