Chapter 87

The last time I had spoken with Lord Turchon of Bearcliffe we had parted in anger, and I did not expect a warm welcome from him as I climbed the long stair in the tower where he kept his chambers, a stair which put me a little in mind of the one that climbed to such a prodigious height at Amon Sul. However to my great surprise I found him a much changed man, and my welcome was anything but hostile. He was no longer by any measure fat, and was now gaunt and loose skinned. His previous arrogance and hostility was replaced by something approaching relief and pleasure when he beheld me. "Captain Esteldir, I welcome you and your men to Bearcliffe, for too many marched south this spring and have not returned and the courage and strength of the men of Northford is a thing of renown here. I will not pretend to you that things go well or that you and your men are likely to have an easy time of it, for we are far too few and our troubles grow like storm clouds. I fear that storm will break soon and that it may come down to us down the vale to the east from from High Burgh. Things are afoot there and the Hillmen are thirsty for revenge, and with so many of their folk here the town already simmers with discontent. Our King does not have long to live by all accounts and now his heir is slain the matter of the succession is at best unclear and is likely to be disputed. The march on Amon Sul was an act of great folly that has left us greatly weakened". I found myself warming to him, for his son had been a fine man and I could now at last see some of the same qualities in the father. I replied frankly, telling him of what had seen and heard in Lastbridge and at Amon Sul but I knew it would bring him little comfort.

So it was that I was installed as Senior Captain in command at the garrison and I soon found that Turchon's warnings of the difficulties we were likely to face were fully realised. Many of the men left under my command were either hopelessly young and inexperienced or old veterans and the bustling streets of the town and the hovels beyond the walls seethed with discontent and mischief. The dungeons in the Keep were overflowing and I regrettably soon found myself presiding over more executions, though this time I knew that most of those receiving summary punishment were likely to have been guilty of the acts that had cost them their necks. I still found the whole thing distasteful, and it apparently did nothing to quell the unrest on the streets or dissuade those who stole, robbed and murdered to reconsider their behaviour. I could understand how a man such as Norchon could have been driven to despair by the unrelenting task before him, but I had already seen too much and had little hope for the future so I held doggedly to the task that had been set before me, for the sake of my Lord, my men and the many decent folk who remained in the town. Long however were the hours I spent keeping a restless watch upon the highest tower of the Keep, just as I had in Northford, and they brought me no solace, for my heart was filled with bitterness and longing, but little hope.

Another fine summer had waned into autumn and one cold and blustery day I was in the ward room at the Keep when I received word that some trader's wains from Lastbridge had been attacked by a mob near the South Gate and stripped of the goods they had been carrying. The furious owner was down in the courtyard demanding to see the captain and claiming recompense. Such events were not unusual, and I was disappointed that one of my patrols had not spotted the trouble brewing and called for reinforcements to try and prevent it, for these events often followed a predicable pattern. I reluctantly left my place beside the warm fire and made my way down through the Keep to the courtyard with a curious feeling of anticipation, for the way that the request for my presence had been framed had aroused my suspicions. Those suspicions turned out to be well founded, for there, flanked by two hulking Hillmen and dressed in finery was none other than Fodric himself. He looked old and unwell, for it seemed the years had not been kind to him, and he ceased his shouting and his face froze for a moment in shock and surprise when he realised who it was that stood before him. The years, too much ale and too many cares had diminished him, whilst I now stood before him in my prime, a battle hardened leader of men in good gear. "So Fodric, we meet again" I began, with scarcely concealed hatred in my voice. "What is your plaint?" To my inward delight he appeared to quail for a moment before recovering and he then began listing his injuries and losses with far less stridency than before. "The incident was regrettable, but not unusual in the troubled times we now find ourselves in" I began icily "I will make sure that my men will do their best to apprehend the perpetrators and I will step up our patrols on the streets. However in turn make sure that any future complaint is made at the gatehouse and do not bring armed men into my Keep again, for if you do I will consider it a hostile act and have you thrown into my dungeons," With that he, looking dismayed, turned and left with his guards as quickly as what remained of their dignity would allow.

The thirst for vengeance and the hatred of my oldest enemy that had been reawakened by our unexpected meeting gave me new purpose. In the next few days I was able, partly by the use of my rank and position to determine where he lodged when in Bearcliffe and what his habits were. He still frequented the tavern where I had seen him so many years before and just as he had in Northford kept a house under the walls of the keep amongst the wealthy and those of rank in the town. It transpired that despite a downturn in his fortunes he was still a man of considerable wealth and influence, but one who now could also count many enemies. Turchon for one hated him, for he was a constant source of trouble and took every opportunity to undermine him amongst those of influence whose ear he still had in Lastbridge.

So it was that I found myself lurking once again in the night shadows watching and waiting for a chance to claim my vengeance. Night after night I hoped an opportunity would present itself, but Fodric was no fool and went always in company and with at least three or four guards. One or two I might have had a hope of besting with the advantage of surprise and so have my way clear with their master, but more than that and not only would my quarry have the opportunity to escape but skilled and strong as I might be in arms there would still be a good possibility that I too might not emerge unscathed. In the end, filled with anger and frustration at my quarry being so close I knew that I would need to find other means of obtaining my revenge. I briefly considered setting his house ablaze whilst he was within, and it did seem a meet course of action, but he kept a full household of servants with whom I had no quarrel and whose deaths I did not want my conscience. Not only that, but I realised that when I did succeed that I would want him to know what was happening, and I wanted to force him to remember those whose lives he had cut short so many years before.

It was during one of my lonely night watches on the tower that the realisation suddenly came to me that I had been a fool, and that the means of bringing Fodric to justice had been lying within my grasp all the while. For I had been thinking like the young soldier of low rank that I had once been rather than the seasoned captain I now was, for I too now had power and influence that I could wield to my own ends. Early the following morning I made the short journey from the Keep to the nearby street where I knew Fodric to be at home, accompanied by a squad of my best and most loyal men. As we approached the gate large dogs began barking inside and there were shouts and the sound of men rousing themselves. "Open, in the name of the King" I shouted, and drew my sword, my men doing likewise. "I have a warrant from the Lord Of Bearcliffe to search this house". This was untrue, but I was counting on Turchon's enmity for Fodric to carry me through. I waited for a moment and called out again "open in the name of the King, or we will break the door and your punishment for resisting us will be swift and sure". Perhaps some of those hiding within had seen me presiding at too many executions and my reputation for severity made them quail, for the bolts drew back with a scraping sound and we were admitted to the courtyard. There a group of armed men and curious servants had gathered. I kept the initiative, striding forward and sheathing my sword as I went, my men streaming out around me and disarming the outnumbered guards with little resistance. I rounded on one of the servants, seizing her my the arm and demanding that she take me to her master's chamber. We climbed some stairs and passed down a long corridor very similar to the one where he had dwelt in Northford. As we did so he burst out of the room at the far end, a cloak thrown hastily over his night shirt and a look of alarm on his face. "What is the meaning of this? You will pay for this!" he blustered shrilly, but I nodded to my sergeant to remain with him while I pushed past him and entered his stuffy and dimly lit bed chamber. Some of my men followed me in, threw open the shutters and began to search the place none too gently. Fodric had evidently not become any more imaginative in terms of his choice of hiding places in the intervening years and it was not long before the ornate carved strongbox that had held my grandmother's titles and deeds came to light among a substantial collection of valuables. There was no mistaking it and to my delight all the original papers still lay within, creased and yellow with age. "I have what I need" I told my men. "Take him back to the Keep".