Captain Márden's Tale: Part 2 - A House of Cards

Márden paced back and forth in his Lord's chamber, his mind racing. What had happened? Why was the constable, Sir Hâraden, concerned? And what did it all have to do with him?

Tárenis had tried to keep his friend calm, but given up. He sat, moodily, at the great table. He was just as perplexed as his companion.

Márden stopped pacing.

"What in all of Keléstia is all this about?" he fumed. "And why, of all things, has the constable locked you, my Lord's son, and I in these chambers?"

Tárenis shrugged. "I have no more idea than you, Márden. Come; sit down and wait. My father said he would be with us soon - then we will know what this is all about."

Tárenis shrugged. "I have no more idea than you, Márden. Come; sit down and wait. My father said he would be with us soon - then we will know what this is all about".

"I don't want to..." he cut himself sort as he heard the lock turn, and the baron, Constable Hâraden, and another man, who he recognised as Sir Gánis al Môragen, a vassal of the baron's.

Márden tried to compose himself, and nodded to his lord.

"Sit down, Márden". Lord Marátel indicated a chair next to his son.

Márden nodded once more, and complied.

Lord Marátel drew back a chair on the other side of the table, and sat down himself. The other two men did not sit. Sir Hâraden seemed as tense and grim as before.

"Father..." Tárenis began, but Lord Marátel looked at him sharply, and he was silent.

"Márden. You know Sir Gánis, I believe?"

Márden, again, simply nodded.

"Gánis. Sit down". Lord Marátel turned back to Márden, as his vassal sat down at the table. The manor lord looked very nervous.

"Márden. Sir Gánis has some terrible news. News almost beyond imagining; which I myself have not yet fully found means to comprehend".

Márden blanched. What could his lord possibly be speaking of?

"There is no easy way to say this, so I will say it plainly, for which I am sorry".

Lord Marátel paused, then leaned forward, looking Márden straight in the eye.

"Márden. House Telégah is no more. Your father, mother and most of your family are dead. I am truly sorry..."

All the colour of the world drained away. Márden felt numb beyond the deepest frost he had ever felt. He could see the pain in his Lord's face, heard the stifled cry of horror at his side from his friend, even saw Sir Gánis' head hang down. But felt... nothing. Nothing except a rushing roaring noise like the crash of the waves that threatened to down out everything, drag everything down and drown it deep beneath the everlasting waves...

"There is more, young Márden, though I can scarcely bring myself to say it".

More? Márden felt the ground lurch beneath him. If his friend's hand had not steadied him, he was sure he would have fallen, even though he was sitting.

"Not only are they dead, but they died convicted of foul crimes - witchcraft, consorting with demons, and the murder of innocents. The duchess and the Holy Laránian Bishop of Kolârè both certified their death warrants. A Writ of Attainder has been issued for all of your clan, and all the lands of your house are forfeit".

Gone? Attainder? Márden could scarcely hear his lord's last words, as waves of nausea began to engulf him.

His family, his home?... Destroyed utterly and without hope of redemption?

All certainties were ripped asunder. He swayed, feeling the overwhelming rising nausea, and unable to help himself, pushed back his chair and stumbled to a corner of the room, and retched. He wished he could vomit, but nothing came. He felt several hands on his shoulders, holding him, but then, mercifully, the blackness took him, and he knew no more.

❧

Márden woke in his bed. He felt groggy, and had a throbbing headache, and felt a deep, numbing sense of... unease. Something was seriously wrong.

He sat up, and struggled to remember how he had ended up in bed...

Then it all came crashing back. All gone? Everyone? The pit of his stomach dropped away, and he retched. Luckily nothing came.

He realised a servant had been sitting nearby, but had hurriedly left as he awoke. He heard footsteps outside his room, and presently his friend Tárenis, Baron Marátel and the constable of Òdelýn, Sir Hâraden.

"You must leave immediately", said Baron Marátel. "I have word that the duchess has troops looking for you... you and my son must travel to Eilýria and then to Quârelin, to seek assistance from your clan's allies at the royal court".

Lord Marátel watched as his constable and son, Tárenis, packed Márden's belongings. Márden remained impassive, his face ashen and blank, looking vacantly into space.

"Márden", said Lord Marátel, "did you hear me?".

Márden seemed not to hear his lord's words. He continued to stare blankly. His mind, however, raced. He could hear his lord's warning, but was having trouble taking it in.

Lord Marátel shook his head, and turned his attention to his son.

"Tárenis, you are going to have to take charge. Clearly my squire is going to need guidance and direction, for some time at least".

Tárenis nodded. Usually it was Márden who led, but now... now Tárenis felt a sense of immense responsibility, tinged with quite some level of fear. He wondered how his friend could bear the news they had learned upon their return to Òdelýn, news of the death and downfall of his entire house...

Their collective reverie was broken by a hammering on the door. Lord Marátel looked up, annoyed.

"I left instruction we were not to be disturbed!"

The door opened and a nervous Sir Gánis, manor lord and vassal of Lord Marátel entered.

"My Lord... my apologies... but... this news cannot wait..."

Lord Marátel's shoulder's slumped. More bad news? Was there to be no end of it?

"Go on..."

Sir Gánis glanced at Márden, but then refocused on his liege lord.

"My Lord... news has come from Kesíno. It is not good..."

Lord Marátel shrugged. "What news is good news in these days, Gánis? Go on..."

"My Lord, clan Kátyn have fallen".

"Kátyn? Fallen? How so?"

"The duchess' forces, m'lord. Lord Kátyn refused to hand over Khôrys, Master Márden's cousin. As you know, he was wed to Lord Kátyn's daughter".

Lord Marátel nodded.

Sir Gánis continued. "We have heard that the duchess' forces stormed the Kátyn halls, and arrested the Lord for breach of the Writ of Attainder. He has been taken to Kolârè for trial on a charge of treason".

Lord Marátel's mouth dropped open, but he quickly caught himself. He glanced at Márden, but the young man seemed oblivious to this further news.

"And Sir Khôrys? What of him?"

Sir Gánis hesitated, but continued. "He was captured after a fight. We hear that he was burned alive, in accordance with the terms of Writ".

At this Márden looked up. "Burned?" He looked at his liege. "As an Àgríkan? What madness is this?"

Lord Marátel was equally stunned. His allies were falling like ninepins, consumed in an orgy of violent flame and madness that threatened to engulf the whole of the duchy.

Constable Hâraden gently interrupted his lord. "My Lord, this news leaves us no time to act. We can delay no more. It is more imperative than ever that Master Márden leave the duchy - and equally vital that you son is safely beyond its border as well. It seems that the duchess and her allies have determined to crush all opposition. We cannot risk your line, and that of clan Telégah by further delay".

Hâraden's words struck Lord Marátel like a hammer, and brought him out of his shock.

"Exactly, Hâraden, exactly. All who are allied to the lord of Teléged are clearly in danger. We must do as you suggest. My son and my squire must leave. Immediately. Hâraden, arrange horses for them".

Constable Hâraden hurried from the room, taking the packed goods with him.

Lord Marátel turned to his silent squire, and then his son. "Tárenis - now is the hour for you to prove your mettle my heir. You must flee this hour. Take Márden. Travel to Eilýria, via the marshes if necessary, and from there make your way to Quârelin. You remember the townhouse of Lord Târin, Lord Privy Seal, from our last visit?"

Tárenis nodded.

"Lord Târin is a good friend of this clan's, and of House Telégah. He will be dismayed at the actions of the Duchess of Kolârè, and will give you shelter. But more importantly, he will guide you in the machinations of the Royal Court. For our fate may lie in your hands, my son. These matters must be brought to the attention of the king, if only to make the duchess more cautious. You understand?"

Tárenis was only half sure he did, but he nodded in any case.

"You must seek Lord Târin's assistance in encouraging an investigation into the Writ of Attainder by the Lord Advocate. Attainder is a royal prerogative, and the duchess has usurped this power. You also need to discover what interest the Laránian church has in these matters. The duchess and the bishop have not previously been close, so their combined action is of concern to me".

"Is that clear to you, my son?" Tárenis nodded yet again. "Good. Then that is all the advice I can give you. Recall well your studies of court etiquette, and ... trust no one. Quârelin is a greater pit of vipers than even Kolârè".

"We must get you on your way... no more delays!"

Lord Marátel and Sir Gánis hurried the two young men down the tower stairs, across the courtyard and to two waiting horses held by Constable Hâraden.

"Now... go! Ride like the wind. The future of our house may depend upon your actions, my son!"

Tárenis and Márden mounted their horses, and wheeling round, and with only a glance back as they rode out of the keep, headed off across the ford, and north, towards the Démath marshes.

❧

Read Part 1 of Captain Márden's Tale.
Read Part 3 of Captain Márden's Tale.