XXXIX
Now Karvalo turned his attention to remedying the ills of Samnew. Odwala had taken the lordship for herself, and though Karvalo was happy enough to support her for the time being, he had no intention of leaving her there. Thus, in the days after Trewgeo’s death, he and Rogyoro, the Steward of Syarglad, went to seek a private audience with her. Odwala received them warmly and bade them state their reason for coming.
‘You are to sit alone with us,’ said Karvalo, ‘to hear what I have to say, and to do as I bid.’
‘I will entertain this,’ said Odwala. ‘That is the least I can do for you, after all you have done for me.’
But Karvalo had done nothing for her. When the three of them sat together later that day, he stated his intentions plainly.
‘You have taken up the lordship of this place, but we must all understand that this is not where the matter will end. Samnew is mine by right, and its succession mine alone to determine. I have determined that it is not for you.’
Odwala said, ‘Was it not agreed that I would take control of the town?’
‘So it was, and so you have. I am willing to let you hold the lordship, but only until a more suitable successor is found. When that time comes, I expect you to vacate your seat willingly and without contention. Agree quickly, and we will all be merrier for it.’
Quite disheartened, Odwala turned to Rogyoro and said, ‘You spoke on my behalf, Rogyoro. Will you do so now?’
Rogyoro said, ‘Your succession to the lordship has been swift and able, and I am proud to have supported it, but I did so knowing it would be brief. My foremost loyalty is to Karvalo, my friend and peer, and if this is his wish, so too is it mine. I urge you to agree to this arrangement, Odwala, that you may yet live long in high esteem.’
‘Indeed,’ said Karvalo. ‘Do as I wish, and there will always be a place for you at Samnew, just not in its lordly seat.’
Odwala did not want to do this, but sitting before a pair of large, sworded men, and recalling all that had happened in the years prior, she understood this was about the best outcome for which she could hope.
‘Very well,’ she said, and the three of them fastened their agreement with oaths each sworn in kind.
Karvalo stayed at Samnew for a few weeks, during which he and Odwala sought to ensure they both held the thanes’ continued loyalty. The retinue was at that time of two halves: those who had come with Awldano and stayed at Samnew, whose honour Karvalo dared not doubt, and those who had formerly served Trewgeo, of whom he was rather more suspicious. Thus, he summoned them all to the hall, told them how things would be run, and invited them to speak their doubts aloud.
‘Only if I know your true thoughts,’ he said, ‘can I duly address them.’
‘I find it most disagreeable,’ said one daring thane, ‘that I will have no say in choosing the lord I serve.’
‘I second that,’ said a second. ‘That my lord should be ruled by another is yucky to say the least. That is not how things are supposed to happen.’
So Karvalo arose, drew glittering Gantewre from its glittering sheath, and lay it flat on the floor before him.
‘If you find it so disagreeable,’ he said, ‘I bid you take up my sword and do something about it. Come forth, thanes, and prove your conviction!’
None came forth.
Karvalo picked Gantewre back up and sheathed it. ‘As I thought.’
Then he left the room. The retinue felt no surer about the new management, but they trusted Odwala at least, and that would have to be enough.
Karvalo went home the next day. He had spent much of his time at Samnew considering the succession of the lordship, after which he determined that there was only one man to whom he would offer it.
‘Awldano,’ he said, cornering his son late one night, ‘I have a proposition for you. I expect you will accept it with the honour befitting a man of your fine upbringing.’
‘First,’ said Awldano, ‘tell me what this proposition is, and we can measure my honour thereafter.’
Karvalo told Awldano about his business at Samnew and the agreement to which he and Odwala had come.
‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘she will move aside once I have found someone more fitting for the lordship, or else I will move her myself.’
‘And therefore,’ said Awldano, ‘you come to me with a proposition, though I expect my honour will be found lacking.’
‘Oh? Wherever has gone my Awldano, my most filial of sons? Who is this man before me, who would deny such a gift even before it is given?’
‘Know, it is not for any grudge against you, nor for any want of shame, that I would deny such a gift. I simply do not want it.’
Upon hearing these frightful words, Karvalo said, ‘Get over yourself. What place does wanting have in any of this? I need someone I can trust at Samnew, and I trust you—or so I thought. If you truly mean to refuse me, Awldano, do it not so swiftly. I will afford you the time you need to reconsider, to bring to mind the great love you bear for your father, for it is matched only by that he bears for you, that which you find yourself very close to squandering. Let us both hope you get no closer.’
Then Karvalo went away.
Awldano only sighed. He spoke to Thalo about this proposition later on. He told him that Karvalo had taken control of Samnew, that he had offered him the lordship, and that he had refused it.
Thalo said, ‘Why?’
Awldano shook his head. ‘It would not be fitting.’
‘Say no more of that. There is no lordlier man to be found anywhere in the world. There is no man more courageous, more stalwart, more judicious than Awldano, and no man more fit to take up this task.’
Awldano stepped back, and he looked away. ‘What nonsense you babble, but even were it so, I would want it no more. I can think only of the blood—the blood I spilt at Samnew, the blood that has long caked the hand of shame, clutched tight about my heart, the blood of friends and foes alike.’
‘Say no more of that. What better way to be rid of the blood than to scrub it away yourself? Do not let it rule over you, but rule over it. Rule as the Lord of Samnew!’
Awldano sighed, and he said, ‘It is a strange thing to hear my Thalo, the dark and dreary vagabond, speaking in favour of a lordly life in hall.’
‘And say no more of that. Such a life may not be the sort I would choose for myself, but I am not choosing it for myself.’ A great passion was now rising in Thalo’s breast, and his words came more freely than they had in many years. ‘I am telling you, Awldano, to choose it for yourself. This is the life you were born to live, the life you deserve. This is your inheritance, your honour, your glory! Do not let it pass you by!’
Awldano said, ‘Very well. I will accept my father’s offer. But know, Thalo, that I do so only because I know my hall will likewise be yours.’
‘As it should be.’
Not the next day, but the day thereafter, Karvalo came to Awldano and asked him whether had come to a decision.
‘I have,’ said Awldano.
‘Then say it,’ said Karvalo.
‘I will accept your gift. I will hold Samnew.’
Karvalo clapped his hands and said, ‘That you will! I will be pleased indeed to count my standout son among my peers and allies.’
Then they got to business. Karvalo summoned an assembly at Samnew to present Awldano to the lordship. The whole household was in attendance, as were all of Samnew’s sheriffs, and Rogyoro, the Steward of Syarglad. Thalo went too, as was his right as Awldano’s husband, but Karvalo had forbidden him from speaking.
‘You boys are here to claim the thanes’ loyalty,’ he had said. ‘We will not risk it all by calling twigs trees.’
At the assembly, Awldano stood on the platform before the retinue, Karvalo to his right, Odwala to his left, and Thalo behind him, and he spoke at length about how excellent he was. When he was done, he cheered a hearty ‘Oy-oy!’ and received one in reply. If anyone objected to his lordship, none dared to make it known. That is, none but one alone.
Here a young woman named Mora enters the story. She was the daughter of Gefyona, Trewgeo’s sister, and her husband Arneo, the late king’s brother. Mora had received a priestly upbringing at Fessos, a monastery near Arbak in the south, but she was nonetheless a forceful and rowdy woman. In the weeks after the battle at Samnew, she had heard about Trewgeo’s death and Odwala’s succession to the lordship, and she deemed the whole affair quite unacceptable.
‘Samnew is rightfully mine!’ she said, and she made for the town posthaste.
Mora came into the hall as Awldano was speaking. She waited until he had cheered, and the retinue had cheered back to him, and then she said, ‘I am here to protest. I see three lordly sorts sitting before me, and a fourth fellow behind them, but none are fit to sit so, and least of all the man in the middle.’
‘Who are you to say this of me?’ said Awldano, for he was the householder now.
‘Mora is my name, daughter of Gefyona and Arneo, and the only rightful heir to Samnew.’
Awldano turned to Karvalo, and quite earnestly, he asked, ‘Is that so?’
‘No,’ said Karvalo. ‘Her right to Samnew is no stronger than Odwala’s, and Odwala claimed it first.’
‘Then why is it,’ said Mora, ‘that this man sits in Odwala’s place?’
‘This man is Awldano,’ said Awldano. ‘He is the son of Karvalo, and the Lord of Samnew.’
‘And it is so,’ said Odwala, ‘for I claimed Samnew first, as was my right as the kin of Ekkeo. It was thenceforth mine to yield to whomever I wished.’
‘Then yield it to me!’ said Mora.
‘There is no chance of that!’ said Karvalo.
‘Let us see.’ Mora turned her back to the platform and spoke to the retinue. ‘Who among you will defend the honour of Samnew and accept me as your lord and protector?’
‘Yes,’ said Karvalo, rising from his chair, ‘who among you will back her? And speak up! I wish to hear you clearly.’
Whether it was out of fear or genuine loyalty, no one spoke up.
‘There you have it,’ said Karvalo, and then he turned to Awldano. ‘Lord of Samnew, bid this woman leave your hall at once, for she has nothing good to offer you.’
Awldano nodded. ‘Mora, you heard him.’
‘This is quite preposterous!’ said Mora, and she left the room.
Thus did Awldano succeed to the Lordship of Samnew.