Cheilin Saga ~ 19 History Teaches 2
(to be continued)
Copyright
Len Morgan
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By Len Morgan
He took a second breath, gazed at his opponent,
and smiled. “It’s a glorious day to
die,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Yvdrx
“If I were planning to die I also would choose
such a day as this,” said Daidan. He drew the sword from its scabbard swinging it effortlessly with speed,
power, and panache. Switching hands he
continued to perform with ease executing a complicated set of intricate
maneuvers tracing patterns in the air the blade close to invisible. A low murmur went up from the small crowd of
invited witnesses. “Mayhap I should
fight with my left, and give you a sporting chance,” he said in an easy
friendly manner.
Suddenly, Yvdrx looked less confident.
“Of course I have nothing to gain from this
contest, If I kill you I will inevitably alienate your Clan and offend your
widows and denying your children the love and support of their father. You are I know a good father, yet you are
prepared to give up everything in the mistaken belief that the new Clan chiefs
will happily retire after just a month?”
If you force it upon them your son will not even survive the first cut,
and you will cease to be Oybun of the 5th Clan, what profit is there
in that?” A few more easy passes with
the left hand, then the blade was transferred to his right, weaving pathways so
swiftly no eye could follow. Then it
was sheathed so fast it seemed to disappear in mid-air.
Yvdrx made a few more passes with his sword,
attempting to speed up his movements to match Daidan display. His forced cuts and parries lacked their
earlier fluidity, now looking clumsy in comparison.
“I will speak plain,” said Daidan, “I have no
wish to kill you, it is never a pleasant thing to do, and regardless of
promises there will always be resentment, both political and personal following
your demise. I desire only to unite the
Empire, in the way I know best, which is to foster good relationships between
the Clans. I would make a poor start,
towards that dream, by killing my closest rival. It would be acceptable if the Emperor
actually wielded the power implied by his office but, I know this not to be so.
Instead, I find that I am simply used as a figurehead, a dragon without fire,
every action directed by strangers. Do
this, don’t do that, I am in reality a prisoner in a house of shadows. Not only am I denied the company of friends and
family because it breaches the ‘no fraternisation’ rule, I am also forbidden
to ride abroad or even to take to the fields and hunt like other normal men; as do you. The worst thing of all is that
I am not even here by choice, my name was submitted for selection without my
knowledge. In truth had you been
elected I would have been the happier man.”
I only went through with the charade because I was convinced that you would
win and honour would prevail. I have no objection to becoming Oybun of the 7th
Clan; that is true power. He smiled
wryly and looked at Yvdrx in an appealing manner, “I need friends, can we not
dispense with this ‘to the death’ business and put on a fine exhibition of
swordsmanship that will strike fear into the hearts of enemies of the Empire?”
Yvdrx thought a while, “I never really wanted
the job either,” he confided. “It was
foisted on me by others who decided it was in the best interest of the 5th
Clan.”
“Since being chosen, I have researched the
antecedence of the post, and it is fascinating. Did you know that the 5th Clan
has produced the matriarch of more Emperors than any other Clan; on no less
than nine occasions? The next most
frequent was the 12th Clan with only four. From this research I also discovered that
the 7th Clan has never yet produced the mother of an Emperor who
inherited the post,” said Daidan.
“Enough talk man,” yelled Yvdrx, “let the
action begin.”
“So we fight the exhibition?”
“If that is your wish, in truth I no longer
have stomach for this venture, now I can see how I have been manipulated by
those I had thought were my friends.”
“When we are done you will be able to wreak
vengeance on them all eh?”
“Indeed!” said Yvdrx with a smile as he came
to the engarde stance, mirrored by his opponent.
“Good man!”
They fought a brave and clinical contest. The witnesses were enthralled, for thirty minutes they witnessed toe to toe nonstop action. At the end of which, Yvdrx was obviously flagging, but did not give way to panic or desperation; quite the contrary he modified his style to minimise his energy expenditure. Of course, he knew that it was not ‘to the death’ but the crowd didn’t, and Daidan would never tell. Not after running his opponent through three times in quick succession to ensure he would not survive to tell of their pact. He wiped his blade on Yvdrx’s shirt turned and walked to the changing area without a backward glance. There would be no further leadership disputes during the reign of Emperor Daidan I. That same evening the sword mysteriously disappeared…
.-…-.
Dan smiled; his grandfather had once asked him
if he considered his actions to have been wrong.
“No” he answered out of loyalty. But, he'd not really been convinced of
that.
Just two years earlier he had repeated the
story to Aldor, the only time it was ever retold, and asked Aldor's honest opinion of his forebear’s action.
“Yes & No” was Aldor’s considered reply. “He
may have been guilty of overstepping his bounds by cheating. Even though Yvdrx had been ridiculously
gullible, suggesting he was not fit to be leader of the Cheilin Empire
anyway. As Emperor, he acted correctly, in the best interests of his subjects. He could not afford to act like a man for that
would demean the office. If an Emperor
permitted open descent in a subject it would rarely end there; the offender
must be put down in a manner that would serve as a lesson to all. To do otherwise would court anarchy. If one death would ensure the stability of a
nation and assure the continuance of a dynasty, the cost was justified. Your grandfather gave up his right to act
like a man when he accepted the honorific ‘Light of the World’.”
“Ah, quite so! A man of perception,” Dan smiled. He knew Aldor to be his staunchest ally; one who would also prove a fearsome adversary in other circumstances. He held no reservations about Aldor’s loyalty or his commitment to his office. If Aldor asked him to walk on fire, he would do so in the full knowledge, it was in his own best interest.
(to be continued)
Copyright
Len Morgan
By Len Morgan
Dan was
aware that, whenever he appeared in public, there was a possibility that
somebody would attempt to take his life.
At sixty, death held no fear for him; he knew it to be coming closer
with each passing day. But, was that
not the case for everyone? He’d
witnessed the heroic deaths of young men, with a whole life ahead of them,
dieing eagerly fighting for one futile ideal or another. He had witnessed old men, barely able to
breathe, shamelessly wasting their breath, begging for a few moments more. But, death did not waver or hesitate. When it is your time, you go; there is no
choice.
His grandfather was of the 7th Clan, but that ceased to be relevant when he was elected to Emperor ‘Light of the World’. Dan recalled a story he’d been told a hundred times seated on the old man's knee…
.-…-.
‘The Knodd,’ he explained, were the twelve
Oybun - Clan chiefs, traditionally called to elect a new leader when there was
no legal heir of succession. They were
called to gather, following the demise of Ossamon IX, who died childless, aged
18, from ingesting a virulent poison for which there was no antidote. His father died a year earlier, from the
effects of a similar brew. All members
of the kitchen staff were under suspicion so when the judiciary failed to
identify the guilty party they were all summarily executed. This
did not prevent the son from sharing his father’s fate.
Initially, there were twelve candidates, ‘the chosen', one from each
Clan, each a potential Emperor. The
Oybun would rank them from 1 to 12, in the order they would most like to see
them become Emperor. After four rounds
of voting, there were just two candidates, Yvdrx of the 5th Clan and
Daidan of the 7th. The Knodd
vote was tied at 6 to 6. Several hours
passed as they discussed how they could proceed. Finally, the decision was to do a countback
over the previous two rounds and discover who consistently received the highest
votes. Consequently, Daidan was named
‘Emperor Designate’ the decision to be ratified one month from that day. At that ceremony, he would be formally named
Emperor Daidan I, ‘Light of the World’.
From that day on, all his Clan affiliations would be severed. His forces and staff would be recruited
equally from all the Clans. The other
eleven candidates would be installed as the new Oybun - Clan leaders. The final official act of the ‘Knodd’, the
old council of leaders, was to elect the new Emperor. Unlike the other Clans, the 7th
Clan would install Daidan’s deputy as their new Oybun.
Daidan I, would then create a dynasty to rule the Cheilin Empire for so
long as there were legitimate heir’s.
As
far back as historic records go, there has never been an Emperor from the 5th
Clan. Each of the others had produced
at least one dynasty. The 4th
9th & 11th had all produced two, whilst the 7th
had produced three including Daidan I.
The 5th were very dissatisfied with the outcome of the final
vote. They believed to a man that Yvdrx
was the rightful ‘Emperor Designate’ they believed that a Knodd at stalemate
should have sought other means to break the deadlock. The other candidates should have been given
a vote; Yvdrx had always been the favourite with his fellow candidates even in
the beginning when there were still twelve prospects. The system provided a number of
alternatives, in the event of a deadlock, to ensure a decision would be
reached. Hand-to-hand combat was the
popular choice of the 5th Clan, their man was a blades man without
equal. But the Knodd had chosen to
employ a count-back, by 7 to 5, thus effectively robbing Yvdrx and his seed of
their considered birthright.
History records that the 5th Clan laid siege to the
Yvdrx
issued a public challenge to Daidan, reasoning that the ‘’Heir Designate’ was
not Emperor.
Daidan’s first counselor pointed out that he was not honour bound to
meet the challenge. He had an official
champion who should answer it on his behalf.
It was even suggested that he would not be permitted, by law, to fight a
duel to the death.
“He was
still seventeen days from ratification, therefore fair game,” reasoned Yvdrx.
“If you kill me you will automatically be
debarred from the election,” Daidan pointed out.
“That may be so, but my son will stand in my
stead,” the new Oybun replied stony faced.
“And if I kill you?” asked Daidan.
“Then all 5th opposition will
vanish. My family will become your most
loyal supporters, and your dynasty will be assured, unto the end of your line,”
said Yvdrx, “but that is not going to happen is it? No doubt, you will hide behind the office
and claim immunity.”
“The honorific ‘Light of the World’ stands for
unity,” said Daidan. “If the 5th
are aggrieved, that unity is in question and with it the future stability of
Empire.”
“My
lord do not think that way, you have nothing to prove, he is noted as the
finest swordsman in the 5th Clan.
You are unlikely to best him,” the first counselor pleaded.
“The interests of this Empire, and its unity,
are paramount and must at all times be preserved,” said Daidan quietly. “Yvdrx!
You have your showcase, we meet at first light tomorrow, I hope you are
man enough to live with the consequences.”
“My son shall be the next Emperor,” he yelled
with delight. “Say your farewells to
the world Daidan.”
Daidan only smiled politely.
“I want him and his son incapacitated if he
fails to take the field he will lose by default and no blood will be
spilled. If he does take the field it
will be in a weakened state and I ought to be able to best him.”
“It shall be so ‘Light of the World’,” said
his first counselor.
.-...-.
As Daidan lay awake contemplating the approach
of daybreak, a figure slipped through his window.
“Who is that!” He demanded.
“Your counsellor will play you false this night,”
the shadow figure warned. “You will be
fighting a man in his prime, full of vigour, and confident in his ability to
prevail. However, you must believe that
you are the better man and convince Yvdrx that you are, in order to justify
the confidence of the twelve. I have
here a blade, which will give you an advantage. A man who is not of this world crafted it,
for just such this situation. Try it
for balance,” he said offering the blade...”
“Your name first if you please,” said Daidan I.
“I am from Chinake far to the north, I am
known as Wizomi the storyteller, but my talents are not limited to
stories.
“Chinake, are you of the wierding way?” Daidan
asked with suspicion.
Wizomi smiled, “You have heard of my tiny village,” he said with pride. “My mission is to see you through the morrow. Now take the weapon, it is unique, be assured there is not another like it in existence. Feel how light and responsive it is? We call it a living blade it amplifies your confidence and ability but it is a double-edged blade; pardon the pun,” He snickered briefly. “It will deflect heavy blows, with the minimum of effort on your part, and will absorb the impact of any heavy weapon as though it were willow twig. Your opponent is fast and confident, but he will be defeated, and I will demonstrate how you will accomplish it.”
(To be continued)
Copyright
Len Morgan
By Rosemary Clarke
Copyright
Rosemary Clarke
by Richard Banks
The morning was not going well. Steve was at the wheel, key in the ignition, anxious to be off. For a third time, he sounded the horn and was briefly rewarded by the sight of
Steve peered into the windscreen mirror at the sullen faces
of his two children and wondered why this should be. They were going on a
family outing, a picnic. What could be better than that on a summer's day?
Okay, it wasn't the best of days, a bit overcast perhaps, but the sun was up
there somewhere and once it burned through the clouds there was no telling how
nice the afternoon might be.
He waited until
“Is everybody belted up?”
Jack responded with another anguished howl.
“Zoe did you hear what I said?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Of course I am. So is Jack, so is Mum. Now can we get going
before everyone in the street sees us?”
Steve resisted the impulse to administer a sharp rebuke.
Instead, he decided to win hearts and minds. “Come on cheer up everyone. It's
Grandma's birthday. We're going on a picnic. We always do that on Grandma's
birthday. Just think of the fun we had last year.”
Zoe's reflections on last year's excursion and her father's
strange idea of fun were cut short by
“We had all this out yesterday. Nothing's changed, we're in
the car, we're going. Now not another word, and that goes for your brother as
well. Here feed him one of these, that should keep him quiet for a while.”
Zoe opened the bag of toffees tossed onto her lap and
pressed one into Jack's mouth. The tear stained face above the mouth became
thoughtful. Perceiving that a world with sweets was infinitely better than the
world that preceded it, his protestations of grief subsided and the face
responded to the improving mood of its owner.
Steve watched the transformation with unrestrained
enthusiasm. “Did you see that? Look, look he's going to smile. There he goes.
What a cheeky grin; any broader and it be touching both ears.
Sensing a lack of movement alongside him, Steve turned
towards
“
Only her lips moved. “Drive the car, Steve, just drive.”
**********
At the end of a journey of
thirty minutes and seven toffees, the car and its occupants turned off a country
road into a car park where they stopped alongside several other vehicles. As if
to welcome their arrival the clouds parted to reveal a corridor of blue sky
into which the sun made a belated appearance. The atmosphere within the car had
also improved but was not yet summer.
The unpacking of the car was achieved quietly and with a
minimum of fuss. This they had done before and a familiar routine established
which required neither direction or thought. They set off along the path that
took them through a rose garden, Steve and
As usual, his father was the chief cheerleader. “That's
right, Jack, you go and find Grandma. Tell her we're on our way. Look at that,
“Get a move on, Steve, he's nearly out of sight.”
They hurried along with all the finesse of unpractised
contestants in a three legged race while their son, unencumbered by hamper and
the demands of teamwork, reached the top of the path and kept going into the
Woodland Area. They found him where
Steve set down his end of the hamper and smiled broadly. “Hello
Mum. Sorry we're late. Ran into a bit of traffic on the A12. We're all here.
Zoe's coming, bringing up the rear as usual. And how are you? A bit green round
the gills I see. Not to worry, it's just a few lichens. I'll soon have you
looking as good as new. He opened the hamper and on retrieving a tin of Brasso
and several jiffy cloths immediately began work on the brass plaque that marked
plot 792.
“Zoe.”
Zoe advanced into full view anxiously scanning the
surrounding terrain for other woodland visitors. On finding there were none she
helped her mother lay out a ground sheet over which they spread a paper
tablecloth displaying the words 'Happy Birthday Dad'. Her face contorted with
disbelief; she struggled to find words sufficient to express her disbelief.
“Don't say a word,” muttered
Zoe giggled and helped with the rest of the unpacking until
the tablecloth was overflowing with sandwiches, cakes and Mum's kiwi fruit
trifle. They were trying to find room for the crisps and Cola when Steve, who
had been totally absorbed in his polishing, reconnected with the woodland world
behind his back.
“My goodness, look at that, what a treat!
Zoe confirmed the rightness of Mum's efforts while pointing
out that it was herself who had buttered the scones.
“She also kept Jack out of my hair when I was baking,” added
Steve scrutinised his watch and finding the time ten minutes
short of mid-day suggested that they hold off until the afternoon. “Anyway,” he
said, “we haven't brought Grandma up to date with our news. Let's do that
first. Who wants to start? Zoe?”
Zoe was about to articulate her opinion that talking to dead
people was really weird and that she would rather throw herself off a cliff when Lena intervened with what she described as a 'new idea'. “Steve, why don't
you speak on our behalf.”
Steve looked surprised then disappointed.
“After all you're so much better at this kind of thing than
we are. I'm no good at monologues, prefer conversations where the person you're
talking to talks back at you. But you're really brilliant at them. Even better
than that chap on TV who does them for a living. What's his name? Alan
something.”
“Alan Bennett,” prompted Zoe.
“That's right, Alan Bennett. And you're so much more
cheerful than he is.”
Steve looked thoughtful. The comparison with Alan Bennett
was an unexpected compliment; he wondered why this hadn't been mentioned
before.
“Okay,” he said. “Where shall I start? What about last
year's holiday in
“And Steve, not too
loud. You're not addressing a public meeting.”
Steve took a deep breath. Was she being deliberately
annoying? he wondered. She was definitely up to something. He decided this was
not the moment to find out. He cleared his throat and began speaking. He had
reached the point where they were in the Departures Lounge and their flight had
been cancelled when
“Was that okay?” he asked.
“And what about the 'ologies'.
“What about them dear?”
“The 'ologies' that Zoe will be studying next year.
Sociology was one; I know that, but wasn't too sure about the Psychicology.
That's why I asked you, Zoe, if I had got it right. You might have said
something.”
“But she did,” said
“But,” said Steve.
Indeed there were several buts. The but thoughts struggled to assert themselves
but proved no match for the seductive tang of a mayonnaise sandwich. Steve
helped himself to another sandwich and the buts seemed a distant irrelevance.
He happily observed his family at picnic. The squabbles of that morning he did
not understand. He was not going to spoil his afternoon by trying to
understand. For the moment his family was at ease and he with them.
Jack picked up a scone and presented it to his father who
politely acknowledged the gift and dropped it onto his plate. The look of
outrage on Jack's face was followed by an indignant shriek, “no Grandma eat.”
Having attended four birthday parties in the last year he was fully conversant
with the convention that the person whose birthday it was should be fully
involved in the birthday tea and whatever games that followed. To be eating
Grandma's birthday tea, while she was elsewhere, was an injustice requiring his
father's immediate attention. For once Steve was the first to understand.
“You want Grandma to have this scone?”
Jack vigorously nodded his head.
“Then she shall, and I bet she would also like that ham
roll.”
Jack's head nodded even more vigorously.
“In that case, we will make a little hole in the ground and
send them down to her.” He reached into the hamper against which he had been
leaning and retrieved a trowel and a bag of daffodil bulbs. Having made an
excavation of some six inches he inserted both scone and roll.
“Anything else you want Grandma to have?”
Jack selected an iced cake with a cherry on top and at his
father's bidding dropped it into the hole and helped cover it with earth.
“That's it son, well done. Grandma will be pleased. I can
see her now, eating them in heaven with the angels.”
Jack's face registered surprise bordering on incredulity. “No!
Grandma down there in a bad place.” In his imagination he saw an underground
cavern in which his grandmother was sitting on her wickerwork chair.
Zoe saw her father frown and tried not to laugh. “Well, he's
got a point Dad. If Gran is down there she can't be up in heaven.”
“And I never heard of heaven being underground,” said
Steve tried to recall what he had been told at Church before
the lure of Sunday league football took him along a more secular path. The
answer came to him as if by divine intervention. He addressed his explanation
to Jack who was pounding the bad place with his father's trowel.
“No son, it's only Grandma's ashes that are underground.
It's her soul that's in heaven.”
“Soul,” repeated Jack. This was his first theological
instruction and he felt it important that all unfamiliar words be explained.
“It's your inner light, son. The things that make you a good
person, it's every kind thought you ever had, it's about caring for others,
playing fair, doing what's right, always seeing the best in people. So when
Grandma died her soul rose up into heaven and that's where she is now with
Granddad, Great Aunty Kay and all the other good people she knew.
“Well, she was Grandma's first cousin.”
“I know that, dear, but after all she did spend rather a
long time in Holloway. I don't think she was shining much of a light.”
“Maybe she was innocent.”
“What of all twelve offences?”
“Well, it was hard times. Perhaps she repented.”
“Or maybe she went to purgatory,” said Zoe.
Correctly surmising that neither of her parents were
conversant with the concept of purgatory she proceeded to enlighten them. “It's
an in between place where dead people go who aren't good enough to go straight
to heaven. How long they stay there depends on how bad they've been. Like if
they've only stolen a few sweets from Tesco they're probably be let out after a
month and allowed into heaven. But if they've been really bad they could be
there for centuries.”
“Well that explains it then,” said Steve. “Great Aunt Kay
has done her time and been allowed up.”
Her daughter, however, was for continuing the religious
debate.“What I don't understand is where heaven is. It's not in the sky, at
least I don't think it is. There's nothing about it in that book of astronomy
that Uncle Trevor gave me. According to that, space is full of planets, stars
and big clouds of gas.”
There was a thoughtful silence.
“What do they say at school?” asked
“Well Jenny thinks it might be some kind of parallel
universe.”
“I mean your teachers, dear. The ones that are supposed to
tell you about these things.”
“Oh they're no help. Mr Stubbs is an atheist while Mrs Jones
says that heaven is when she's on holiday in
“I like Jenny's idea,” said Steve. Reminds me of what old
Bill Felds once told me about some of the folk who lived about here a hundred
or so years ago. They thought that the spirits of their ancestors lived on in
the sounds and motions of the countryside: in the currents that made the rivers
flow, in the wind that moved the trees and made patterns in the wheat. The
Church called them heathens, were against them and everything they believed in,
but I'm not so sure. I fancy they knew a thing or two.”
“So, if that's right, heaven isn't up there, wherever 'up
there' is, it's all around us,” said
“Why not,” agreed Steve. “It's a better theory than others
I've heard. Whose to say it's wrong? After all, how can you see a spirit? Stands
to reason it must be invisible. Nobody, no voice to speak with. They could be
all around us, we wouldn't know. It can't be proved, of course, but neither can
it be disproved. In the end, you just have to go with what you feel. Guess
that's why I keep coming back here. It's where Mum wanted to be, part of the
forest she used to play in as a kid, near to where Granddad and Great Aunt Kay
are now. If she does have a soul or spirit this is where it be.”
Steve stopped speaking and wished he had done so sooner. He
looked anxiously at
“That's really nice, Dad. Perhaps Gran is here, and Great
Aunt Kay. She giggled. “Did you notice how that breeze started up when we were
talking about her being in prison. Perhaps we should bring a wind chime next
time we come.”
“Now, before we eat this, is there something you want to
say, Steve? I mean what you always say at this time.”
Steve grinned. “Yeah, why not. Let's say it together. Are
you ready? On the count of three. One, two, three.”
“Happy birthday Gran! twenty-one again.”
Copyright
Richard Banks
By Rosemary Clarke
Falling down, determined to work
To sort out things I must not shirk.
Jane started it with a strimmer and tools
Now others help; that is solo cool!
Nat has lent me books galore
On clutter, cleaning and so much more.
Everything must find a place
For this domain to show some grace.
So, newspapers under the stool
Clutter cleaning is the rule.
Spices in the cupboard so
With mop and brush away I go!
Merrily tidying away
So that the past no more can stay.
It's having an effect on me
A future I can almost see.
If you're depressed and want to die
Give clutter clearing a darn good try.
It's helping with the mess I'm in.
Throwing the bad into the bin.
All the rows and all the pain.
So that I'll find my life again.
Copyright
Rosemary Clarke
By Peter Woodgate
SO,
here I am, waking
On
a sad, sad Sunday morning.
I
hear the rain drumming
On
the windows they’re calling.
Grey
skies await as I slowly climb
From
my bed and lazily shower,
If
I am to combat this “God Awful Day”
I
will need every ounce of my power.
God
gave us this day to rest, I am told
So
that we could worship his might,
But
Sundays, to me, when everything stops
Merely
heightens the sadness I fight.
I
look at the slab sunk in the earth
And
imagine Beth’s once smiling face,
I
hope, that perhaps, she is smiling still
Away
from this cold dreadful place.
I
then think of cats and the way that they play
With
birds and with mice, they have caught,
It
appears that God has similar traits
Which
oppose the things we are taught.
Although
I am sad, I carry a guilt
And
of this am certainly sure,
My
pain is nothing compared to those
Sufferings
that Beth bravely bore.
It
's Sunday evening and I’m down the pub
Supping
a tipple or two,
Maybe
it’s three, or four, even five
And
then I hear voices on cue.
“Oh,
that is Bob, he’s an “alky” you know,
A
complete waste of space should you ask,
I
hear what they say but don’t want to play
And
hide behind carrying a mask.
I
know that I drink and know I get drunk
Repeatedly,
seems I’m insane,
But
it helps me to dream and then it would seem
I
am walking with Beth once again.
Copyright Peter Woodgate
By Len Morgan
Six months on from that clandestine meeting a dozen high-ranking officials and army officers were forced, by overwhelming evidence of corruption or incompetence to resign. More than three times that number of minor and middle ranking officials were retired, resigned, or committed suicide because of revelations that came to light.
During that period the general state of the Empire improved steadily. The replacements were not chosen from their subordinates. Nobody stepped up into their master’s shoes. This, more than anything, served to break the chain of corruption.
The new officials were carefully selected, from men of principal, recommended through trusted sources who called him Dan. Their presence was felt immediately, a further stream of underlings were dismissed or demoted and, things really started to improve.
However a lot of bitterness and resentment had built up following the change of emphasis. Surely the Emperor understood, it was argued, that to persuade men of talent to forsake their clan, and forgo considerable power, position, and wealth, there had to be some means of compensation open to them.
Daidan II had understood and accepted that the greasing of palms was a cheap and effective, way of accomplishing this; it helped to smooth away opposition.
Daidan III would have none of it and made a
point of listing the names, of men who were sympathetic to this view, for
future investigation.
.-...-.
The State of readiness:
Aldor saw the look of concern on Dan’s face,
as he entered the private apartments. All was not well.
“What news from the front Aldor?” he asked forgoing the usual small talk.
“They have amassed a hundred thousand to our opposition
of twenty-five but we can call upon a further fifty thousand at short notice.”
“It must be costing me a fortune to maintain
such a standing army,” said Dan.
“The majority are in training, to defend the empire, and therefore supported by their home provinces. But, it will start to cost when or if an invasion begins. I imagine that their logistics must already be hurting them, they are stripping the countryside of Bluttland just to feed that many troops. They can’t keep them there inactive for long. They are relying on crossing and foraging food on our side of the Stalbech River.”
“So, when do you estimate they will attempt to land on the Cheilin side?”
“They will have to make a move within the month; the Conjunction is of particular significance to their plans. Otherwise, we will be safe for at least another seven months, and they would have to stand down their force or face a famine.”
.-…-.
It was
just a week before the new race season and Dan was awaiting the official Games
opening ceremony, on ‘C20’, like an eager child. He would not allow the self-interests of a
petty minded minority group to spoil his big day. He would be starting the early races and
did not intend to miss any part of the proceedings.
A steward arrived with a message addressed to Dan that had been delivered to a side door, by a grubby street urchin. He opened it a feather fluttered to the floor. The smile left his face to be replaced by a look of concern. He scrawled a quick reply on the reverse and instructed the steward to pay the child to deliver it back to its originator. His anticipation of the lead in days had been totally ruined. He was angry with Aldor for sending the message. His timing was completely off. There was a banquet arranged in honour of the Games Contestants today, and he would still have to meet them and wish them well as though nothing had happened.
.-…-.
Earlier that morning Kalle, a member of Aldor's
intelligence-gathering team, had noticed Bordek in the company of a man he knew
very well, it was Hestor, one who was close to the Emperor. He was a trusted advisor, and should not
have any legitimate business with a low life of Bordek’s ilk. What could they be discussing so intimately
sitting in a screened corner booth of the infamous Black Gryphon Tavern? They left separately, Bordek first with
Hestor following, fifteen yards behind.
Kalle took up station a further fifteen yards back. They negotiated the bustling morning traffic
which traditionally accompanied the lead in to race days. They made their way down ‘N1’ towards ‘C16’
continuing on towards ‘N2’, where the bustle began to lessen, and the crowd
thinned appreciably. Kalle followed
maintaining the same gap appearing to be, part of a small family party, in a festive mood. Bodek took an unexpected
detour into a side alley, between two houses, and turned to wait for Hestor to
catch up. As Kalle and the family party
passed the alley, the two men had already covered half the distance between her
position and the fence separating the houses on ‘C16’ from those on ‘C15’. To follow would forewarn them they had been
observed, and indicate a pursuit was in progress. Kalle could not afford that, and so elected
to walk by, detaching from the group after carefully establishing there were no
observers, across the street, watching for signs of pursuit. By the time Kalle returned, the two men had
vanished. An intensive search of the
alley eventually revealed a touch-sensitive fence panel that led through into a
twin alley, on the opposite side of the fence, leading into ‘C15’. However, when Kalle eventually came out on
to ‘C15’, it was obvious her targets were long gone. Kalle waited in the shadows for an hour,
hoping they would return by the same route, then accepting it would not happen,
she returned to Base to report what she saw as her failure and warn other
street operatives of the back doorway between ‘C15’ & ‘C16’. There would be a watch placed on it to
observe how frequently it was used and by whom.
Copyright
Len Morgan