XLIII
After slaying the king, Thrandeo took possession of his corpse and brought it to Bealnew, where he and his followers set up a campsite, donned their armour, and entered the town. Standing before Solvega’s gate, firmly shut, Thrandeo bade her let them in, that they might discuss important matters. Solvega came to meet him atop the gate, but she would not let him take another step.
‘I have rather more sense,’ she said, ‘than to welcome into my home a pack of wolves, each laden with swords and axes.’
‘Such is your right,’ said Thrandeo, ‘but when this is done with, Solvega, remember that I have tried to do this peacefully, and you have refused it.’
‘I need not barter for peace. The king is coming, and with very many more spears than you have. You would do well not to trap yourself between us.’
Thrandeo whispered briefly with his followers, whereafter they produced the king’s corpse, and Thrandeo threw down the severed head, still clad in its kingly helmet. To see it glittering in the evening light, Solvega let out a little whimper, but she said nothing.
‘This king?’ said Thrandeo. ‘There is no milk left for you in his wretched teat. Surrender to me. Let us fight as one against our common foe.’
Solvega took one last look at the king’s helmet, then turned away. Without a word, she came down from the gate and went into her house.
‘So it is,’ said Thrandeo, and he took the king’s body back to his campsite.
Meola happened to be near the gate as this unfolded. As Thrandeo left, she went after him, eager to know what had happened, and came to his booth. He received her cordially, and he told her about the battle at Thwenawl, about his masterful ambush of the king’s army, and about the king’s death.
‘But what is to come of it?’ asked Meola.
‘Solvega’s surrender,’ said Thrandeo, ‘and nothing less.’
‘That will not be forthcoming.’
‘It is fortunate, then, that I am a patient man. I will wait.’
Meola and Thrandeo spent the rest of the night discussing their progress and their plans, and the evening proved to be a fruitful one. Meola stayed with him overnight, and they both stayed warm.
The next day, they received a messenger from Bealnew. He said he had come on Solvega’s behalf to treat with Thrandeo.
‘Has she not the courage to meet me herself?’ said Thrandeo. ‘Of course not. There never was a slug with a spine. Tell me what you mean to say, man.’
‘Solvega yet stands with the kingship,’ said the messenger. ‘She will not be swayed. She humbly requests your prompt departure from her domain, and that the king’s body be relinquished, that he may be taken home and committed to the pyre with dignity.’
Thrandeo had only brought a small troop of warriors up to Bealnew, and he did not intend to spend his time sitting idly before Solvega’s gate, so he agreed to leave.
‘But this,’ he said, ‘should not be misconstrued as my surrender. I would greatly value Solvega’s allegiance, and I will do whatever I must to have it. It merely happens that waiting here is not the path thereto. As for the king, he is mine. I will not yield my prize for any price at all.’
‘That is no justice,’ said Meola. ‘You have killed the king and had your vengeance. There is no need to inflict it likewise upon his kin. The pain of those who live is no less than that of those who die.’
‘Tell me, were my brothers and sisters granted a pyre each when this king’s father had them butchered? Who performed the rites for my father, left to rot in the mud? My cause is not the king’s honour, nor consideration for his kin. My cause is the dignity of my people, the dignity he and his lot have ever denied us. So I deny them. You, Meola, should understand that better than most.’
‘And I understand just as well what little comes of it. You have had your vengeance. It is time to lay it aside, to grant the king his right to a fitting burial, and to turn your attention to the war you wage not for vengeance’s sake, but for your people’s.’
Thrandeo would hear no more of this. Standing up, he drew his sword and said, ‘By my hand was the king slain. I will hang his head above my door, to stand testament to my glory. Leave at once, unless you mean to join him there.’ The messenger left without a second thought, whereupon Thrandeo turned to Meola. ‘Both of you.’
Meola refused. ‘Would you so readily cast me aside, have your fill and flee? You stand here because of me and my striving, your glory won because I dared to demand justice, so what of it? Where is my justice in this?’
Thrandeo put his sword away. ‘Your justice is beyond you now. The chance for that escaped you long ago, but if you still want vengeance, this is it.’ From a nearby box, he withdrew the king’s severed head. ‘This is the war we wage. Look at it! There is no place for honour here, nor dignity, nor justice. Only vengeance, whatever the cost.’
Meola bowed her head and said, ‘Then the cost is all too steep.’
Then she turned away and left the booth. They would never meet again.
Utterly deprived of all her former verve, Meola returned to Bealnew, where she met once more with Godleda.
She said, ‘This is my fight no longer. I sought vengeance for my husband and called it justice, but there is no justice to be found on the edge of a sword. Only spite, and I have spat my share of that. No more. I can bear it no more. It has taken everything from me, I have given it everything, everything but my Kolbeo. Perhaps he can yet be spared.’
‘Go to him,’ said Godleda. ‘Go home. You have done enough.’
‘No. I have done too much, given too much of myself, my time, too many of my kinsfolk, and all for nothing. My heart’s sun has set at last.’
‘But it was not for nothing. The king is dead, the tide is turning. Norlonn will be its own again, and that will be your doing.’
‘Fate alone will determine that.’
Then she went away and returned to Klagenn. Kneeling before Gaylodho’s burial stone, she took her son in her arms, looked to the setting sun, and wept.
‘Kolbeo,’ she said, ‘do not let your fire die.’
As for Thrandeo, he did as he said he would. He left Bealnew and returned to Kyalannes, where he hung the king’s head above his door. The body was dumped in a bog on the way home, never to be recovered, and his helmet was destroyed and reforged for Thrandeo to wear with pride.
A few weeks later, Seybeo, the Earl of Syenavol, chaired a meeting of the earls at Srander in Fawnavol. Everyone but Solvega was in attendance, and she sent no one to represent her. They assessed the situation following the king’s defeat, and while they were determining the way forward, Ollavo, the Earl of Rogavol, noted that the king’s successor had yet to be decided.
‘The nature of his successor,’ he said, ‘must be considered. If they are more reasonable than the late king, our first priority must be to negotiate.’
‘The time for negotiating is behind us,’ said Thrandeo. ‘We must not let up the fight, and least of all while we stand the stronger. We must bring Eylavol to heel. Only then can a settlement be considered.’
‘I am not afraid to fight,’ said Balkena, the Earl of Fawnavol, ‘but we will all fare better if a peaceful resolution can prevent the need to do so.’
‘And would you so readily cast aside the victory I won at Thwenawl?’
‘No,’ said Ollavo. ‘As we stand atop this victory, we have our best chance to force the kingship out of our lands for good. That may yet be done by spear and shield, but it may likewise be accomplished by artful diplomacy.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Frewdha, the Earl of Syagavol, ‘but I very much doubt the kingship will back down after such a blow. Solvega still stands with them. They will not yield now, but will only fight harder. We must do the same.’
So it went on, and when they had at last reached a consensus, the solution was clear—there would be no peace in Norlonn yet. To this end, Frewdha and Aslawga, the Earl of Latavol, came together and proposed the election of one of their number to take up overlordship of Norlonn and control their joint effort in opposing the kingship.
‘Only when we move as one,’ said Aslawga, ‘can we move with purpose and properly contend with the kingship.’
Thrandeo was pleased to hear this proposition—it was in truth his, though he had made them bring it up on his behalf. At once, he stood up and put himself forward. Ollavo did not like that prospect and stood in opposition, whereupon Gretteo, the Earl of Syamlavol, did the same.
‘I am the most warlike among us,’ said Gretteo, ‘and would therefore be the most fitting choice.’
‘Sit down, men,’ said Seybeo. ‘I am in control of things today. We shall first vote upon whether we shall vote.’
They did this, and four voted in favour of establishing an overlordship (they were Thrandeo, Frewdha, Aslawga, and Gretteo), and three against it (they were Seybeo, Ollavo, and Balkena).
‘So be it,’ said Seybeo. ‘Stand up, men, and speak.’
Ollavo spoke first, and he spoke in support of himself. Gretteo spoke next, and he spoke against his opponents. Then Thrandeo spoke, and he spoke neither in support of himself, nor against opponents, but against the kingship.
‘For that is the task ahead,’ he said. ‘To oppose the king. None have done more for this cause than I have.’
Then they voted. Gretteo received no backing besides his own. Ollavo had the backing of Balkena, but Thrandeo had support from Frewdha and Aslawga. Seybeo was the last to vote, and he could bring the matter to a stalemate. He thought much about who he would support, then said, ‘The coming fight, I fear, will be long and hard. One man alone is fit to shoulder this burden. I will vote for Thrandeo.’
So Thrandeo took the victory. At once, he proclaimed himself the Overlord of Norlonn, and at once, Gretteo disputed it.
‘This is no fair!’ he said. ‘The overlordship should be mine!’
‘If you want it,’ said Thrandeo, drawing his beltknife, ‘come and claim it!’
Gretteo drew his own knife, and they each stepped forth ready to strike, and to kill. That did not come to pass. Ollavo stepped between them.
‘Gretteo,’ he said. ‘Lose with honour, man! We have each stated our cases, and Thrandeo has been fairly chosen. We must lay our quarrels aside and stand as one. There can be no divisions between us.’
‘Hmph!’ said Gretteo, and he put his knife away and returned to his seat.
‘As I thought,’ said Thrandeo. ‘I will see this through.’
His first goal was to force Solvega into submission. Thus, he mustered an army and brought it to Eylavol early in the following year, where they began pillaging the magnates’ homes. His intent was not to lay waste to Eylavol, but to diminish Solvega’s support among her allies, and to thereby see a more agreeable earl replace her. Yet waste came nonetheless, for Gretteo, eager not to be outdone, brought his own small army and went rampaging through the countryside, besetting whatever petty settlements he stumbled upon.
When Thrandeo learnt about this, he immediately halted his raids and made his way to a village called Bloazam, upon the wreck of which Gretteo had made his base. He arrived well before dawn and was brought straight to the house in which Gretteo was sleeping. Thrandeo went inside and kicked Gretteo awake.
‘Who is it?’ said Gretteo, slumber-stunned. ‘What is it?’
‘It is Thrandeo,’ said Thrandeo, ‘your lord, with his sword drawn. Tell me, what are you doing here?’
After taking a moment to become fully aware of the situation, Gretteo’s voice shrank, saying, ‘We are forcing Solvega’s hand.’
‘No. We are not forcing Solvega’s hand. I am doing that. You, Gretteo, are only hindering me.’ Thrandeo brought his sword closer to Gretteo’s chest, until he could feel its bite upon his skin. ‘You are nothing but trouble. Why should I not do you in here and now? Speak! Your next words may be your last.’
‘We must stand as one. I came here to support you, my peer and ally, but I see now that I was misguided. Let me return to my land, and we will both be glad to know this will not happen again.’
Thrandeo shook his head. ‘Allies we may be, but we are no longer peers. I am your overlord, for whose mercy you must grovel.’ He withdrew his sword. ‘Now grovel!’
Gretteo was a prideful man, but he feared death no less than anyone. He slunk off his bench, onto his knees, and at Thrandeo’s feet, he wept.
‘O Thrandeo!’ he cried. ‘It will not happen again! I beg of you! Spare me!’
‘What a pitiful sight. It would not be fitting to kill such a mewling baby.’
Thrandeo put his sword away and left the house.
Gretteo led his warriors home the same day, and that was just as well, for they had largely lost their respect for him. When they finally came home, word of Gretteo’s submission spread quickly, and a group of his magnates came forth to challenge his earldom. Everyone expected him to lose, but his challengers all died in a very unfortunate and untimely accident. He managed to hold on for a while after that.
Thrandeo now resumed his raids in Eylavol and kept them up all summer and through the autumn, until he settled in for the winter. Solvega hoped that was the end of it, but once another new year was afoot, Thrandeo came forth with all the more vigour. Thus did her magnates demand action, and urgently. They had done all they could to fend off his fighters, to scrape through a meagre winter, but they could only bear so much of it. Solvega agreed to meet with Thrandeo to come to a resolution.
‘Your quarrel is not with me,’ she said, ‘but with the kingship. There is no need for this.’
‘My quarrel is indeed with the kingship,’ said Thrandeo, ‘the very same kingship that yet suckles you. So long as that continues, you stand in opposition to your countrymen, and my quarrel is with you likewise.’
Their meeting would, of course, come to nothing, and they parted ways with the matter unresolved. Thrandeo returned to his pillaging, and Solvega returned to her magnates. She told them about their meeting and Thrandeo’s refusal to yield, whereupon they let up their voices in outrage.
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘That will not be the end of this. I will meet him again, but this time with spears and axes behind me.’
Solvega mustered her own army and began a more purposeful defence of her domain, fighting alongside her warriors as they repelled Thrandeo’s raids. This culminated when the two armies met near Oadha, in the western portion of Eylavol. Each side came against the other with its full weight, and though Solvega fought valiantly, Thrandeo, that war-forged man, fought all the fiercer, and he took the victory. Solvega fled the field and escaped back to Bealnew, and Thrandeo followed her. Once again, he set up a campsite outside the town and awaited her submission.
It was around this time that Godleda came back into things, more eager than ever to see the earldom change hands. She went with her cousin, a man named Ayrmodho, to a town called Ordenn, the ancestral home of Solvega’s kin. At that time, it was controlled by a woman named Rendea, who was Solvega’s elder sister.
Godleda and Ayrmodho requested Rendea’s hospitality, saying they were on their way to bolster the western side of the earldom on Solvega’s behalf. Believing them to therefore be her allies, Rendea welcomed them into the town, as well as every one of the warriors behind them. Only a few days later, she became painfully aware of this mistake. Godleda and Ayrmodho slew Rendea in her bed, as well as many of her thanes and relatives, and seized control of the town, where they began gathering support for themselves.
Word of Ordenn’s capture came first to Thrandeo, still awaiting Solvega’s surrender outside Bealnew. He relayed the news to her himself, but this only strengthened her resolve.
‘If you think this will dishearten me,’ she said, standing tall atop the gate, ‘think again. Now I have all the more reason to fight, to reclaim my ancestral home and avenge my fallen kinsfolk.’
Then she went inside, and Thrandeo returned to his campsite.
This went on for a few weeks more, until Thrandeo received an unexpected messenger. That was Balkena, the Earl of Fawnavol. She told Thrandeo that she and the other earls had come to an agreement.
‘Seybeo and Wove,’ she said, ‘are travelling southwards now. They will meet with the king and seek a settlement on behalf of us all.’
Wove was the Earl of Rogavol. They had taken up the earldom following Ollavo’s death late in the previous year and had swiftly proven themself to be an artful diplomat.
‘Ollavo would surely be proud of his successor,’ said Balkena.
But Thrandeo said, ‘What treachery is this? I am your overlord, and yet you act without my knowledge, and against my will?’
‘Yes, for the good of us all.’
‘Tell me, what did Frewdha have to say about it? And Aslawga?’
‘They supported us, although it may comfort you to know that they did so reluctantly.’
‘Do not speak to me of comfort—there is none to be found in such betrayal. Begone, Balkena, lest I dispense my justice here and now.’
Balkena left, and Thrandeo left soon after. He abandoned Bealnew once more and went home to reconsider his approach.
Shortly thereafter, Solvega sent a troop to reclaim Ordenn, but they were attacked by a flock of manic sheep on the way and were forced to turn back. She then sent a messenger to the king to request his support, but he refused to help, and her own allies were all much too weary to start a new fight just as Thrandeo had left. She ruled Ordenn lost for now, but only for now. A day would come, she was sure, when the town would be reclaimed.
* * *
This was an important time for the king. Since taking up his kingdom, a great many pirates had begun prowling the coast, raiding in his lands, and those of his allies. That had always been the case, but their numbers had recently grown as never before—the bulk of the dead at Thwenawl were levied from the king’s domains, and many of their kin now found their farms shorthanded. Unable to fulfil the king’s tribute, they were all too often forced out of their homes, and though many found places for themselves elsewhere, others gripped destitution in one hand, retribution in the other, and turned to piracy.
Indeed, the problem became so widespread that the king stood atop his gate one day and swore to kill every last one of them, speaking this verse:
‘Ye raiders and reavers and robbers, ye boors!
Ye killers and cowards who harry our shores,
who pillage and plunder and make wives your whores,
then hoist up your sails and put out your oars!
Now hear this and fear this, our united cause,
that rich folk and fair folk, and likewise the poors,
will scorn you and warn you to heed well our laws,
or curse you and catch you and take up your wars!
Now hear this and fear this, this fair fate is yours:
to hang from your foul feet above our fine floors!’
The king entrusted the pirates’ eradication to the joint efforts of Syoma, Lord of Gwonvek, and Rena, Lord of Yolbrog. They conducted this campaign commendably, but that was not to be the end of it. While the king was touring, a pair of ships fought their way past Yolbrog and sailed on to Syorbak, where they set upon the town.
The pirates were led by an old warrior named Tholbrano, and he was called Tholbrano the Devourer, so insatiably did he tear through his every foe. He had in his youth been a thane of Bodleo, the first Lord of Gwonvek, and had married one of his daughters, Gova, but she divorced him only a few years after their wedding. He soon left Gwonvek, but he did not go alone. As he went, he stole a toddler, a lad named Rokkaro, to be his protégé, and kept him ever at his side. Tholbrano made himself one of the most infamous men in the kingdom, earning a full outlawry and much disrepute as a seasoned pirate lord.
Tholbrano was able to force his way through the outer gate and spew his comrades into Syorbak, whereupon the king’s thanes came forth to meet them. Just about every one of the pirates was slain, but not before they had wrought such terror and destruction that the king was forced to come home. When he arrived, he was mobbed by an angry crowd and fled into his hall, from which he oversaw once more the restoration of his home.
Tholbrano was captured alive, and true to his word, the king had him strung up by his feet and killed in his hall. Rokkaro too was captured, but he was only barely a man at that time, so he was spared this punishment. Instead, he was sent in bonds back to Gwonvek, where he came into Syoma’s service and was made to atone for his wrongdoing.
The earls Seybeo and Wove arrived when Syorbak’s splendour remained much diminished. They went before the king together and bade him meet with the earls to agree a peaceful settlement to their dispute, and much as his brother had before him, the king told his guests to return to their booths and await his response.
The king summoned his council to discuss their request that evening. As he sat in his kingly chair, he said he was conflicted on the matter.
‘I have suffered many woes,’ he said, ‘and would like to prevent any more where I can, but these folk will not be satisfied unless I surrender my kingship over Norlonn completely. That I cannot do, for therein lies my father’s legacy, and my own. To surrender that would be to surrender all that I hold dear.’
His councillors were of similarly mixed opinions.
‘You must not yield,’ said Owvo. He was the Reeve of Rogavol, and he had been appointed to the high-reeveship following Enlovo’s death at Thwenawl, though he had not returned to Norlonn since he fled three years prior. ‘If you have any love for your old kinsman, or for yourself, you will fight for your kingship to your dying day.’
‘That would be most foolish,’ said Rago the Chancellor. He had been in a bitter mood recently, ever since the king had refused to help Solvega reclaim Ordenn, his home. ‘Twice has your home been ravaged by your own people, and mine just the same. You have thus far held this house—and this kingdom—with all the skill and tact of a butchered pig. I believe it is rather too big for one such small stature.’
‘What dishonour!’ said the king.
‘Pay no heed to him,’ said Erlawga. She was one of Karvalo’s sisters, and his representative in the king’s council. ‘He speaks as one of them, surely out to benefit from your misjudgement.’
‘Pay no heed to me,’ said Rago, ‘and nothing much will change, or else things will only worsen for you.’
‘Say a word more,’ said the king, ‘and things will only worsen for you!’
So the topic of discussion moved away from the earls’ plea and towards the personal grudge between the king and his chancellor. Some of the councillors backed the king, as they ever would, and some backed Rago, and neither side was lacking in passion. Their voices grew louder, punches were thrown, swords were drawn, and the council was adjourned with nothing resolved.
Yet the earls would not be forgotten. The king went to them at once, and with Rago’s words sounding in his mind, he said, ‘I am your king! There is nothing for us to discuss, no need to negotiate. There will be no settlement between us but the settlement of the earth above your graves. You will submit to me, or you will die. Take this message back to your peers, and let them fear their king, as all men should!’
Seybeo and Wove left Syorbak the same day.
Upon their return, the king’s message was spread far and quickly. Thrandeo resumed his raiding in Eylavol, and Solvega her defence, while the other earls all sat dispirited in their chairs, waiting to see what would happen.
Soon enough, something happened—Gretteo grew impatient. He set about conspiring with Aslawga, the Earl of Latavol, and they led an army southwards into Rewgrawd and harried its people. The king’s reeve there, a woman named Rena, brought forth her thanes to repel them, and they came together in battle near a village called Sleam. Despite their verve, Gretteo and Aslawga were defeated, but both survived the rout and fled back northwards into Latavol.
The moment Thrandeo caught wind of this, he loosed an almighty howl.
‘Gretteo!’ he said. ‘That rotten, sodden, fool. He will regret this!’
Thrandeo summoned a meeting of the earls at Kyalannes, and when they all gathered in his hall—all but Solvega— he called Gretteo up to the front of the room. Gretteo came forth, and Thrandeo said he was going to kill him.
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Gretteo. ‘You may call yourself our overlord, but you nonetheless lack the authority to pass such a judgement.’
The other earls agreed, and they resolved to outlaw him instead.
‘So be it,’ said Thrandeo. ‘By the consensus of your peers, Gretteo, you are hereby outlawed.’
Then he drew his sword and killed him on the spot.
Everyone in the room stood aghast, but Thrandeo did not put his sword away. No, he whistled a grim tune, and in came a troop of his thanes, all armed and armoured. They put their weapons up at the earls, then looked to Thrandeo, Gretteo dead beneath him.
‘This cannot go on,’ he said. ‘I am your overlord, elected by yourselves, and you will respect that. Now hark! Gretteo’s earldom will be contested as his magnates wish, but I will be the final arbiter of his succession. Thereafter, I will have sixty fighters from each of you, given willingly and until I deem their work to be done. If you refuse, you will be killed, and your successors will agree in your stead. I will make up the rest of the number myself, and I alone will command this army, leaving each of you to hold your own domains. The king is coming, and I will meet him.’
And so it was. The earls each swore to uphold this agreement, little choice though they had, and went their separate ways. In Syamlavol, the earldom was taken by a woman named Begfala, and Thrandeo deemed her election suitable. She offered him his sixty fighters, as did each of the other earls, and after nearly a year’s preparation, Thrandeo gathered his army at Ordenn, where Godleda yet held the town. There he would await the king.
‘He will come,’ he said. ‘He must.’
* * *
Following the battle at Sleam, the king summoned his council once more, but he sought no advice.
‘The earls have overstepped once too often,’ he said. ‘I must assert myself at the earliest opportunity. Thus, I shall gather an army, march northwards, and bring them to heel once and for all.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Rago. ‘You should strive to find a more peaceful solution. There is nothing to be won from further fighting.’
But the king was not in a patient mood. As Rago spoke, he went to him, clenched his fist, and struck him hard on the jaw, knocking him out of his chair.
‘Get up,’ he said, ‘and get out. You are my chancellor no longer.’
As Rago arose, he said, ‘It would seem all sense has abandoned you,’ and he left the room.
Rago left Syorbak the next day and went northwards to Bealnew. When he came there, he told Solvega, his daughter, about the king’s plans.
‘He will come to you,’ he said. ‘You must make him see reason.’
‘What reason?’ said Solvega. ‘I will stand beside him, come what may.’
‘Why? You are inviting war into your domain, and for what?’
‘Father, war is already here. We have been fighting for years. Thrandeo has made himself a king in all but name, and he wants my loyalty no less than Arneo. Whomever I support, war is unavoidable.’ Solvega loosed a tear. ‘I can only choose a side, and hope I choose well. For my own sake, and for that of my people.’
Rago shed a tear in turn and took his daughter in his arms. ‘Solvega, you have ever been stout of heart. I will trust in your judgement. If this is the path you will walk, walk it proudly.’
Then Rago kissed Solvega’s forehead and left Bealnew. He did not intend to get caught up in a fight, so he went in search of somewhere to spend the latter days of his life in peace. The place he found was Fessos, where Saffero the High Priest welcomed him as a learned man of high esteem. He spent his time there writing about the kingship, and not entirely spitefully.
In Rago’s absence, the king passed the chancellery to a woman named Fena Awdbegannan. She had become the Lord of Flatteyr following the death of her wife, Kona, at Thwenawl, but she was ousted by Kona’s brother, Addeo, whose name is important to remember. Fena was the king’s second cousin, both being great-grandchildren of Endelo, the first King of Mawon, and her brother, a man called Yargeo, was by marriage the uncle of the King of Baklalonn in the south. It was for these connections that the king appointed her to the chancellery.
With that sorted, the king set out once more on a tour of his kingdom to gather support and muster an army to bring against the earls. In time, this would bring him to Samnew.