Page 3 of The Amber Owl (Heartwood #1)

3

Rihard

A town meeting. Or rather, a village meeting: this place was a straggling hamlet at best, remote, insignificant. These were simple folk, grubbing a living from the dirt, ignorant of the world outside their own little patch of ground. How hard should it be to gather their leaders and get the message through, with his men to keep order? But these people did not know their place. They were unruly, wild, deaf to authority. When Lady Elisabeta had laid out the mission for him, he had known there would be challenges. He had planned for that. What he had not expected was a pig-headed lack of cooperation on the very first day.

His men already had five or six of these wretched folk in custody, shackled to the back of a cart for want of better options. This had to be sorted out right now. He could not afford to fail.

‘Let me make it clearer for you,’ he said, speaking slowly. How many times would he need to explain the situation before the message got into their thick skulls? ‘Perhaps you have not heard that Lady Elisabeta is Ruler now, taking the position after the death of her uncle, our beloved Lord Kasimir, may he rest in peace.’ Had he been speaking in private, beloved was the last word he would have chosen. Never mind that. Kasimir was gone; a brighter future beckoned. ‘It is your Ruler’s command that a path be cut through Heartwood Forest. For too long, the treasure known to be hidden at the Hermit has lain untouched. A treasure that might change all our lives. Untold wealth. The key to a power and influence such as this land has never known.’

The folk who had entered the hall – the so-called elders of Heartwood, an unimpressive lot – were silent now. Their expressions were somewhat blank; their eyes lacked the fire he had hoped his words might kindle. Make it personal. He imagined one of the Ruler’s advisers suggesting that. It was the sort of thing Aleksis would say. Nonsense, of course, but perhaps it might help him get through to these dull-witted folk. He cleared his throat; drew himself up tall. ‘Success in this mission could transform your settlement completely.’ He made himself look around the room, trying to meet every eye. God, the place was shabby; how could people live like this? Village hall? Rickety old shed, more like. ‘It could bring untold wealth and prosperity to this district. Opportunities for trade. Work for everyone. The wherewithal to mend your houses, to increase your herds, to extend your pastures, to … to live a life of honour, of respect.’

Silence. He’d done it; he’d captured their attention at last. Then a voice rang out. ‘At what cost?’ The fellow was tallish, with a head of greying curls. His tone was defiant. Before Rihard could respond, other voices chimed in, each of them as angry as the first. Had none of them heard a word he’d said?

‘You can’t cut a path through Heartwood! It’s dense forest; the trees are hundreds of years old. We have one of the most ancient oaks in the Northlands right here in the village.’

‘What do you mean, to live a life of respect? We’re fine just as we are.’

‘How much respect did your men show when they struck out with their staves?’ It was a woman speaking, her sleeves rolled up and an apron covering her gown, as if she had been midway through some task when the meeting was called. ‘When they manhandled our folk and frightened our children? Where’s the honour in that?’

Rihard drew a deep breath. ‘You will address me as Sir,’ he said, loudly enough to silence the preposterous questions. ‘Or Commander. I am here on orders from the Ruler. As for the forest, trees can be felled. Undergrowth can be scythed. I saw plenty of fit men out there, well able to help with the work.’

A babble of voices now; a dozen of them were trying to speak at once. He gestured to his men, who were stationed around the margins of the hall. As one, they took a step forward.

‘Be silent!’ he called. ‘You’re not here to raise objections, but to hear our plan and ensure your people are prepared for the work ahead.’ He set it out for them: that all able-bodied men aged fifteen or over should immediately put aside their usual work so they could assist in the great enterprise, under the direction of himself or his deputies. That a camp would be set up to accommodate his men; that an enclosed building such as a barn should be provided as part of that camp. That appropriate stabling and fodder should be provided for the horses. That meals should be supplied for his men as required. It was only reasonable.

‘What do you mean, set aside our usual work? Who’s going to look after the stock, do the spring planting? What about lambing? And how are we supposed to feed so many folk? Where are the supplies?’ It was the same troublesome fellow again, the one with the shock of curls.

‘Your women can shoulder the work of the farms. The old folk and the youngsters can lend a hand. You may need to slaughter a few extra beasts to provide for us. A minor setback in view of the opportunities ahead.’

An old woman spoke, vinegar-sour. ‘That talk of treasure hidden up at the Hermit, Sir. It’s all old tales, you know . Same as the stories about spirits and fairy folk and the like. Nobody’s ever been up there. You can’t reach the place unless you’re a fox or a bird. Yet you talk as if there’s gold lying about on the mountain, just waiting. Easy pickings.’

‘Where’s your proof?’ someone else called out.

By all the powers, would this go on forever? Time to make the message plain. ‘Enough of this! You will obey orders. You will provide the support I require. Any refusal to cooperate will be met with severe punishment, and that applies to elders ,’ he gave the word a particular emphasis, ‘as much as to the more lowly folk of your settlement, such as those we already have in custody. Do I make myself clear?’

The voices had died down. He was getting through to them at last.

‘And unless you’re content to have the disobedient shackled to a cart day and night, you’ll set about finding that empty barn I mentioned. And some workers to shape it into something more suitable. Understand?’

Again, no response. That fellow with the curls was looking anything but compliant. He’d need watching. ‘You!’ Rihard pointed. ‘What is your name?’

‘What does a name matter, if you plan to treat us as less than human?’

That was it. Enough. Talk was useless; the situation required action. A glance at his deputies and a jerk of the head were enough. ‘Take that nameless man into custody.’ Another jerk, in the direction of the apron-wearing woman. ‘And her.’ As his men moved to apprehend the two troublemakers, he addressed the remaining folk, who were restless, muttering objections, likely to get themselves hurt as they attempted to stop the arrests. Not that he’d care much; but there were some strong-looking individuals among them, useful for the job ahead. Better to keep them capable of work. ‘This meeting is over,’ he announced as the two were removed from the hall. ‘Get out there, tell your people what’s expected of them and what the consequences will be if they refuse to comply. And make it quick.’

‘Sir?’ A voice from the back of the hall, as the others made their exit.

‘I said it’s over! Are you deaf or half-witted, man?’

‘Sir – Irina, the woman your men just took out – she’s the village baker. All of us rely on her …’

Rihard gestured toward the door, and the fellow left without another word. What was wrong with these people? Couldn’t their wives or mothers bake bread?

‘Commander.’ Leonas, one of his deputies, had come to stand by him.

‘A pox take these people! They’re deaf to reason!’ He drew a deep breath; forced himself calm. ‘Yes, what is it, Leonas?’

‘The woman. Irina. I’m told she bakes for the whole settlement. Many loaves daily. She’s all set up for it and she knows what she’s doing. Would you consider releasing her? There’s nowhere else in the village to bake on such a large scale. I can warn her of consequences if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut.’

Leonas was not quite meeting his eye. But both his deputies were reliable; they wouldn’t have gained promotion if there’d been any doubt of that.

‘Very well. Tell them to release her, but make sure she knows the risk to her bakery – and to her family – if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut. These folk must understand from the very first that we will not tolerate insubordination.’

‘Yes, Commander.’

‘We’ll want double the usual number of loaves today. And tell her that’s likely to increase.’

‘Yes, Commander.’

One thing was plain, he thought as he followed his deputy out. Talk was a waste of time. Give these folk a chance to answer back and they’d keep it up until their last breath. What was needed was a display. Something bold and spectacular. Thanks to that farce of a meeting, he knew just what it would be.