Chapter 13 [Royal Throne Chamber]

At Citadel's other end, a grand chamber loomed over all else. Ionic pillars of Classical Age far gone held up railed limestone overhang. Sol's light poured through a large circular window into the chamber. Rodor's monthly court stirred Citadel and Kingdom alike. Subjects came to present their issues and be heard. Nobles watched from assembled numbers atop the aforementioned overhang and toward the chamber's rear wall. Knights led subjects across polished oaken floor toward the dual thrones at the chamber's front end.

Rodor sat on the highest set throne. Consideration and Observation guided his attention toward the current case. His ears listened to the litigants and barristers. His eyes watched their body language and reactions. An occasional glance shot toward the elder emerald-robed man to his right. Mostly however, Rodor preferred to listen. Clarification did demand a question or two from said case's litigants. In this case, a boundary question reared its generational head (yet again). Finesse would coax a solution. Still, without Mithian, closer attention would be required….

Mithian….

Silence hung over the accompanying throne. Preferences—hers and his—would have her right there. Still, Purpose and Necessity guided him to send her forth. Her eyes could discern Bernard's real actions under the grand courtly display. Besides, hunts did her good. Meditation provided a mental reset and introspection. Fortuna provided game for the royal kitchens and the people as well. Rodor picked up on Relief's vibe throughout the gallery. Insight and Instinct guided Mithian in cases and the Royal Council. Oftentimes, a minor point got her attention. Her question would overturn Façade and reveal Truth. He valued her advice….

…alas that many nobles did not. Worse still, they shared Bernard's attitudes….

Pity them. There are many such intelligent women in Nemeth not to mention Britannia! His fingertips tapped the armrest. Impatience stewed in his craw. Maybe if their wives were overseeing matters instead of them, we wouldn't have to deal with such things. His mind turned to his beloved late wife. Taene would've lectured them soundly. He stirred himself from Reverie's grasp. "Lord Appleby, Lord Rothgar, is there a reason why the Foxborough River is no longer a suitable boundary?"

A portly man bowed with effort. His long beard threatened to catch on his belt buckle. His stomach touched his knees. "Sire, we should have territory. One should make our ends meet."

Throats cleared. Chuckles and coughs, despite efforts to stifle them, echoed throughout the chamber.

Rodor's eyebrow rose. Imagination created Mithian's potential retort to the man's observation. "Aye, Lord Rothgar, we should. But I would remind you of greater things. Both of you need such things to maintain balance. Survival for self, aye. However, are we not part of the common good? Should we not look out for each other? You both have an obligation to Nemeth and me as well?"

"Of course, my King." Rothgar kept a straight face. "My father and I have sent knights. I have paid my scutage. I take care of the serfs on my lands. What else is there? Lord Appleby neglects the land there."

"Does he now?" Rodor leaned back. Appleby's smoldering eyes and stiffening form spoke volumes. His fingers rubbed his chin. "I find that difficult to believe, Lord Rothgar. Lord Appleby fought beside my father and me on the battlefield. He is very detail oriented. Lord Blumenwald, you have met with his reeve. What say you?"

Blumenwald set the parchment and quill down. He bowed to Rodor. "Mortimer's records are precise if not impeccable, my King. His records match the landed receipts and yields to a single grain. If I may, I have ridden along the river with Lord Appleby. He has built a mill on his family's traditional lands. He encourages the people to grow different crops in addition to the standard wheat and barley. Blueberry plants grow by the river on his side of the traditional boundary. It is an ambitious plan. He has also paid his fair share for such endeavors to the treasury. Forgive my overclarification." He bowed again.

"Nay. You have answered the question. Thank you, Lord Blumenwald." Rodor took a draught from his goblet. "I simply wished to dispel Lord Rothgar's assumptions. I would not consider such attitudes to be those of a neglectful man. Lord Appleby, such industriousness benefits his manor and Nemeth. Thus, it is to be commended."

A slender flaxen-haired man bowed next. "Thank you, Sire. What is our right to hold land and be in charge if we do not seek to improve what we have for the benefit of all? I admit that my other talents come into play. Why not use them for the greater good?"

Rodor nodded. "Why not indeed, Lord Appleby? Such displays might heal the schisms in the outlook toward magic. I welcome them and encourage you in your noble purpose. I would caution you to be careful. Continue on your noble purpose. Be mindful of those around you. I would not want Lady Reyna's fate to be yours."

Jealousy and Malice burned in Rothgar's eye. He, Bernard and several others detested Appleby. Sabotage's head often reared in multiple fashions. Schemes pushed at boundaries, burned crops and harassed locals. Let Aredian deal with him after Bernard's brat! Perhaps Uther Pendragon will support us in a coup! Then, we will have real rulers who will understand how deviant Appleby and his ilk really are!

"Thank you." Appreciation's smile spread across Appleby's face. "I appreciate the concern. There is a matter I wished to be heard on with your grace and indulgence, Sire. It is related to your point."

"Of course." Rodor noted Concern unsettling Appleby's face and posture. "And what of your fruit bushes and trees? Are they bearing or not?"

"They were, Sire. Then, it was most curious. The fruit started to disappear. A day later, Lord Rothgar's banquet table bore pies with that produce! It was the only place he could have acquired the fruit!"

"You can just conjure up more, Appleby! Why do you care?" Rothgar's face darkened. Impertinence sharpened his tongue and tone.

"LORD ROTHGAR! BE STILL!" Rodor slapped his armrest. Indignation blazed in his eyes. Majesty boomed in his voice. He shook his head. "Lord Appleby, please continue."

"Aye, Sire. I appreciated Lord Rothgar's hospitality. I do not appreciate, however, seeing my food presented in such ways. Mortimer, thank the goddess, is still alive. He suffered a frightful beating from brigands who crossed the river. He would have come but he's confined to his bed. Master Wyngate and your maid, Britomart, saved his life. Thank you."

"Master Wyngate would say it was his pleasure and duty. Still, I will relay your gratitude to him." Rodor turned back to Rothgar. "Well, Lord Rothgar, theft, assault, and trespass, is it? That seems to open more issues for you. Perhaps your manor would be better served with a new lord? I remember your father and you standing with Camelot against me. On Lady Reyna's insistence, I forgave you and your faction. Still, the attacks continue. I would have my representatives hear Mortimer's words. We'd best hope those with ill intentions are not offered harbor within Nemeth's borders. There is no payment for treason."

"Such evidence exists, Sire!"

The matter added layers still….