Chapter 7
Every village has a gossip, and Nast was no exception. If anything occurred out of the normal, dull lives of Nastians, you could be sure Gretal knew about it. What was more, she dispensed the news as readily as she acquired it. The day the market was supposed to open, the City of Nast discovered that, for the first time since the beginning of commercial business, the market remained closed. Gretal overheard a spice-merchant grumbling about all his wares spoiling, and a seller of cloth yelled to his wife, "Ever since that foreign Lady's come to power, we merchants have suffered! It isn't enough that others have died, and fallen ill, and their goods have spoiled or some ghost or spirit has haunted them. Now her own soldiers destroy our merchandise on the very eve of the supposed market-day!"
Away went Miss Gretal, to her friend Saralee, a milliner. "Did you know?" she asked busily, after the obligatory salutations, "I just heard: the Lady is behind all the troubles! She's been using her soldiers to drive out the merchants."
Saralee prided herself in being a judicious individual, not given to believe just anybody, but you see, Gretal couldn't be placed in the category of "just anybody."
"Oh, Gretal!" Saralee gasped, "Are you quite sure?"
Gretal nodded firmly. "As sure as I'm standing here, Saralee! You know I wouldn't lie to you." Her errand accomplished, Gretal bustled back out the door to lend her eyes and ears to other matters.
If Gretal was the town telegraph, Saralee was her relay station. Thus bestowed with such a choice morsel of gossip, Saralee found herself irresistibly compelled to distribute it fully among the patrons of her shop, who no longer came for her wares, but only to trade and perhaps receive more coins from the merchants in the square for her work than Saralee herself did. Ergo, it was not long after breakfast when a servant came before Lady Melanie.
"What is that commotion outside?" she asked.
"Many villagers have spread the rumor that you had a hand in last night's events, Milady," the servant replied. "The merchants have been affirming it as well. The noise you hear is the cry of a crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs."
"Summon Captain Pareshin." While she waited for the servant's return, Melanie crossed to a window overlooking the main courtyard of the castle, from which she could see the gate, and hear the crowd behind it. Though they could do naught against the stone walls and the ironbound door, they pounded upon these with their fists, chanting, "Bring down the Lady! Down with the foreigner! Foreign curse! She is a curse upon us! Cursed Lady! Cursed foreigner! Bring her down!"
The sound of a step behind her alerted Melanie to Pareshin's arrival. She whirled around, intending to give him a thorough tongue-lashing, (she was not at all pleased at being called a curse in both the New Telmar and the old), but the sight of his bandaged knee and the sling on his arm gave her a pause. Instead of berating him, she tersely demanded, "Now that all of Nast has connected me with last night's events, suppose you enlighten me as to the details of what I am being accused!" She looked at him severely.
The old captain bowed his head. "Believe me, Your Ladyship, I took every precaution not to be seen, and not to threaten the merchants' persons at all. We had our swords to ruin the merchandise, and that was all I intended they be used for, but . . ." he sighed heavily as a gust of wind brought the shouts clearer through the window. He crossed to the other side of the room, where another window overlooked the marketplace. Melanie joined him as he pointed to the far corner, where a small troupe already opened a brightly colored tent with a large, colorful sign that Melanie couldn't read.
"In addition to the merchants, the guild we attacked housed a small carnival troupe. Among their number they had a seer, one who supposedly tells fortunes. Well, he certainly thought he told ours last night! We were not twenty paces from the camp, preparing to fall upon the crates of merchandise, when the seer cried out, 'The destroyer is in our midst! They go after our goods, and our lives will be next!' Of course the merchants pour out, armed and ready, and see our swords, which served to verify the seer's words. We were forced to defend ourselves." Pareshin gestured to his knee and arm. "I am not the worst wounded. It is by some strange chance that none of us died, but many of the small company are now imperiled by their wounds."
Melanie watched the moneychangers setting up their tables, the merchants already conducting business, and the enraged crowd. She slumped against the wall, covering her face with her hands. "It wasn't supposed to be this way!" she wailed. What would Aslan say? What would she do? "Captain, how many men do you still have unwounded and unwearied?"
"Well over two hundred men still remain at your service, Milady."
"One hundred will do; lead them into the square. You must close the market once more. Do not under any circumstances harm any person, or I shall have his head who does. Turn over the tables, spoil the merchandise, and the merchants out of Nast, and for heaven's sake, drive away the mob yelling at my door! We must correct the mistakes we've made."
Captain Pareshin bowed. "It shall be done, Milady."
Twenty minutes later, a company of one hundred soldiers poured out from the gate, fifty mounted and fifty on foot. The crowd soon fled screaming, and the soldiers turned upon the outraged merchants without heeding their outraged exclamations. They obeyed the word of their Lady, turning over the tables, scattering the merchandise, and trampling it under foot and hoof, yet not harming any of the people. The mounted soldiers surrounded the merchants and herded them out of the city. Some had the presence of mind to escape on the wagons in which they had come, and these soon attracted the running merchants, who threw themselves over the sides, often requiring their friends to help them into the wagon-bed. The soldiers did not slack their pace, but drove the merchants and wagons on, all the way to the border between Nast and the neighboring colony, Venna. Captain Pareshin halted the men at the border and called after the retreating merchants, "By the order of Lady Melanie, no man among you may ever return into Nast, on pain of imprisonment or death. Heed ye!"
Some merchants replied with nasty remarks about Lady Melanie which I shall not print, but the rest were so worn out they could not speak, but wearily trudged into Venna.
Meanwhile, in the town, the foot soldiers had cleared out the square and stood guard at each alleyway leading to the square as the town crier stood on a high platform in the middle of the square where everyone could hear his announcement.
"Hear ye! The Lady Melanie, Regent of the Province of Nast, has ordered that the marketplace be hereby closed until an official proclamation is made. Any persons attempting to buy, sell, trade, or traffic goods in any manner before any such declaration will be brought before Her Ladyship on charges of insubordination. Heed ye!"
"We heed!" the villagers replied.
Melanie, watching from her window, heard all and leaned back, satisfied. Someone behind her cleared his throat. She turned to behold a pageboy. "Yes, what is it?" she asked.
"Please, Milady, there is a guild just come, and their leader seeks an audience with Your Ladyship."
Intrigued, Melanie replied, "Take me to them." She followed the young boy down to the courtyard, where stood the sorriest-looking guild she had yet seen.
Their hair was unkempt, the people and animals painfully thin, and one of the many-times-broken-and-ill-repaired wagons smelt awfully of rotten foods. One of the men, a gaunt, spectral figure whose clothes—once undoubtedly fine silks and material as would befit a merchant—hung in dirty tatters from his haggard frame, stood away from the rest and knelt before Melanie.
"Hail thou, Lady of Nast!" he said in a weary voice, as one physically spent, "May your province flourish under your rule!"
Melanie blushed at the praise, yet looked squarely into the man's sunken, glassy eyes. "What are your intentions here, sir?" she asked.
The man stood, but kept a humble, respectful posture. "If it please your Ladyship, I am but a merchant, Galor by name, who desires for the present nothing more than to rest after the long journey we have made, perhaps restock our supply in the market over a few days, after which we—with your Ladyship's permission—would do what we could to contribute to the economy, and conduct business out of only a small corner."
An alarm went off in Melanie's mind at the words conduct business. "I have just issued a formal proclamation and closed the marketplace. I intend to make an end to all you merchants coming in, buying at a pittance, and selling at exorbitant rates, effectually robbing from already-poor citizens. I am afraid you have come too late."
Galor's face fell so low, Melanie wondered if he would collapse in the dirt at her feet. "Oh, your Ladyship! Please do not send us away! We come from afar, in Ettinsmoor, and we have traveled through dangerous lands in Narnia and Archenland to reach this land, with only the intentions of enriching the commerce. As you can see, we have allowed our health, our food, and our clothes to spoil, but we have taken great pains to preserve our wares for the use of your people! If you send us away, oh merciful Lady, I fear we will not survive the return expedition." His tone was pleading, pathetic, and sincere. Melanie even thought she saw tears in his eyes. She did not doubt his word, yet she knew she must remain firm, in case Aslan should return and find her disobeying orders!
She replied to Galor, "Very well, then; I will see to it that my servants give you fresh food and clothing, and you may sojourn a few days in one of the apartments recently vacated by the previous merchants. During this time I will consider your request. Once you and your clan are rested and satisfied, you may come before me, and we will discuss the matter further."
Galor smiled gratefully. "Oh thank you, Milady! How generous you are!" he gestured back to the company with him, "Hail!" he cried, bowing low. "Hail!" they echoed, following his lead. The girl hid the blush of her embarrassment by merely nodding and retiring into the castle.
"Milady," Pareshin called. She faced him. "You handled that very well, in my opinion, ma'am." He nodded respectfully before heading to the infirmary to have his wounds tended.
Melanie sighed. It wasn't handled! All she'd done was stall for more time, with no idea what on earth she would do when Galor and his clan were restored, and not even the slightest hint of Aslan's return. Melanie never bothered asking if he'd walk any more. She wondered if he intended to return at all.