“It is the first time in centuries that the torching has been so comprehensive,” suggested Roper.
“Even less could we afford to help,” said the Treasurer. “Your father was a strong ruler, lord, but strong rulers are often as much a problem for their own nation as they are for other nations.”
“A great ruler,” agreed the Councillor for Trade. “But he would not be counselled. He rejected a trade agreement with the Hanoverians over a perceived slight, cancelled existing agreements with the Yawlish and the Svear and refused to accept emissaries from Iberia whilst they supplied ships to the Sutherners. He also stopped raiding south, to avoid antagonising the Sutherners, so that source of revenue dried up.”
“As a consequence, lord, our coffers are almost empty. It was only the timely intervention of the Vidarr that enabled us to mount your campaign without forgoing the legionaries’ Out-of-Fortress Pay,” finished the Treasurer.
Roper glanced at Tekoa, for this was the first he had heard of Vidarr fiscal intervention, but Tekoa was fiddling with a pair of gloves and did not appear to be taking any notice of the conversation.
“So what would it cost us to relieve the suffering of the eastern subjects?”
Both officers let out a breath, the plump Treasurer shifting uncomfortably in his saddle.
“In depth, my lord? Surely you don’t need to concern yourself with such numbers …”
“Itemise it,” insisted Roper.
“Well … Out-of-Fortress Pay for the legions. To meaningfully impact the crisis in the east, lord, we’d need all nine auxiliary legions. Then building materials; it would take weeks of work and therefore more Out-of-Fortress Pay for the auxiliaries to source the wood, the stone, the withies … The water-reed will not be ready yet, so we’d need heather from the north, which is more money. Then, of course, the grain. We don’t have anything like the reserves to supply to the eastern subjects; in fact, we’re looking at a shortfall for the Hindrunn itself. So we’d need to buy grain from the continent …”
“Iberia might trade with us, though relations are frosty,” put in the Councillor for Trade. “Bavaria and Alemannia are not out of the question, but neither has a coastline, so getting the grain here will be expensive. In short, lord, we have no hope of affording anything meaningful. The country is broke. If you want to do anything for the eastern subjects, you will need to rely on charity. And if you want your reign to amount to anything meaningful, we will need to find an additional source of income.”
“Such as invading Suthdal,” said Roper.
The Treasurer and Councillor for Trade exchanged a glance. “Exactly, my lord.”
“But it isn’t just the finances,” said Tekoa, who appeared to have been listening after all. “Vengeance, Lord Roper. As you said in your speech, the Sutherners must be taught to fear us once more. They cannot invade us with impunity and expect to return to safe, intact homes. Vengeance.”
16One by One
Tekoa sent the giant elk’s head, boiled and scraped to spotless white bone, to Roper complete with its immense antlers. Roper had it mounted on a beech board as a memento of the day and displayed it above the hearth in his quarters. In the following days, Keturah twice awoke screaming at the alien form of the giant moonlit skull now hovering opposite their bed.
Roper had taken his father’s skull, stripped equally bare of flesh, into the Trawden forests during the hunt and, riding off quietly for a moment, buried it between the roots of a vast oak, carefully pointing the empty eye-sockets east before filling in the hole. Above it, he whittled a rough outline of his own hand. That would be good enough for Kynortas, he thought.
The snow had proved as relentless as the rain that preceded it. Some of the subjects, those who cared less about the light and feeling the moving air, attempted to raise the temperature inside their houses by putting up in their window-frames translucent shutters of greased paper with a wooden lattice behind. Most preferred open exposure to the elements, and left their houses with the feel of a hand-made cave. The ground around the Hindrunn grew smooth and white, the branches of the forests began to bow and crack under their fresh burden and the legions sweated to keep the streets clear. That was where most of the refugees were now to be found. Roper had decided to open the gates and admit them to the Hindrunn’s granite embrace. In hours, the cobbled streets were thronged with the homeless, who gratefully sheltered from the winds that swirled beyond the Outer Wall. But their life was still far from comfortable, with most sheltering beneath crude tents made from old cloaks and begging food from passers-by.
Roper thought about the Treasurer’s words and the only solution he could think of to help the refugees further was to appeal to the generosity of the people. To that end, he appeared on the steps of the Central Keep to make a plea to the subjects of the fortress to receive the refugees into their homes. They responded in magnificent fashion. Just three days after his speech, Roper had made the ride from Central Keep to Great Gate and seen not a single tent. The homeless had been taken into the citadel’s sturdy stone houses, hosted by a generous populace.
To attempt to refill their coffers, Roper sent the Councillor for Trade, whose name was Thorri, to Hanover to attempt to barter a fresh agreement. He was not expected back for another three weeks, during which time Uvoren was a constant thorn in Roper’s side. He was seeking to rebuild his influence and began with constant displays of altruism towards the subjects.
When the snows had fallen, the great warrior had received a cheer for stopping his horse by a mother and her freezing child and, dragging the two into the saddle behind him, had taken them into the Honour Hall with him for
