LV
The king stayed at Pearmol for only two nights. Karvalo agreed to provide an escort, but of course, he named his price. His demands were threefold. Firstly, his sister, Erlawga, who had ever been his representative in the king’s council, was to be granted the chancellery. Secondly, his Steward of Oyfnawl, Rodholo, was to be granted a standing writ, and the king was to support his admission to the rede. Thirdly, the treaty by which the king’s mother had been granted her earldom was to be repealed, the earldom thusly abolished, and Yordhoa herself exiled.
‘The alternative,’ said Karvalo, ‘is for your mother to learn that her dearest daughter was slain in the north, just like her father.’
Though the king was reluctant to agree to this, she was all the more reluctant to die. She said, ‘My mother will not yield her earldom willingly, but I will see what I can do.’
She and Karvalo fastened their agreement with an oath, and then he sent her on her way.
Upon the king’s return to Syorbak, she told her mother all about her ordeal. She spoke of the attack at Bealnew, of her flight and Thalo’s valour, and then of the help Karvalo had granted her.
‘And although I am most grateful for what he has done for me,’ she said, ‘it was not done freely.’
Then she recounted Karvalo’s demands, but with every word she spoke, Yordhoa’s face grew ever grimmer, until she could bear not a word more, until she seized her daughter, her eyes alight, and said, ‘Tell me you refused him! Tell me that much!’
‘I did not,’ said the king. ‘Indeed, I swore by oath to uphold this agreement.’
Yordhoa’s grip tightened as she said, ‘You owe me everything, your lot, your life, and this is how you would repay me? What sort of daughter would swear such an oath? I am your mother!’
‘And I am your daughter.’ The king took Yordhoa in her arms. ‘It pleases me none, but I cannot let my oath be broken. For the sake of my kingdom—the kingdom you gave me—I bid you do as I ask and leave of your own accord, that I need not force you.’
But Yordhoa shook her away. ‘Force me.’
Then she left the room.
Yordhoa went home to Glannas, leaving the king in quite the quandary. She gave the matter much thought, and after a little while, she visited a seer who lived in a shrine near Ewgsyog, in the western reaches of her kingdom. She asked the seer about the fastness of her oath.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘how might I void it?’
‘Do not ask me,’ said the seer, ‘but the man himself. You made this oath by mutual consent, and only by mutual consent can it be unmade. That, or you can die.’
‘What if he died?’
‘Your oath would then be broken, but not undone. He has done for you, so you must do for him, lest you be spurned by fate.’
That would be no good at all. The king resolved to summon Karvalo and Yordhoa and arbitrate a meeting between them, each alike in stubbornness.
‘But also shrewdness,’ said the king, ‘or so I hope.’
They met at Syorbak near the end of the summer. The discussion was long and fruitless, Yordhoa refusing Karvalo’s demands, and Karvalo refusing to alter them. Then, as the evening approached, Karvalo sat back in his chair, a terrible grin upon his face.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘let me make a new proposal. You can keep your earldom, Yordhoa, but you must forsake your daughter instead and sever all bonds of kinship between you.’
The king arose in protest, but Yordhoa shushed her before she could speak. With her eyes locked unmoving upon her daughter’s, she said, ‘It is done.’
‘O Mother,’ said the king.
‘I am your mother no more.’
The king sat down without a word, holding back her tears.
Karvalo chuckled, saying, ‘The matter of the chancellery still remains.’
‘That is no longer my concern,’ said Yordhoa. ‘I suggest you take it up with the chancellor herself.’
Then she left the room, and the king’s restraint went with her. Her sorrows all flooded forth at once, and she fell weeping onto the table.
‘Grow up,’ said Karvalo. ‘We will reconvene tomorrow, when you will be of nobler bearing.’
And that they did. The next day, the king met with Karvalo once more, his sister, Erlawga, and Foldea the Chancellor, whom Erlawga hoped to replace. That discussion was no less tiresome than that of the previous day, and it ended with Foldea refusing to relinquish the chancellery. Even so, Karvalo considered his trip to Syorbak to have been a great success, for the king had also agreed to grant him a second seat in her council, and to waive Rodholo’s presentation fee when the time for that came.
‘And yet,’ he said to himself, ‘her oath is not fulfilled. No matter. Things can be done.’
* * *
Let us return once more to the earls of the north. Broadly, they did not much appreciate Thrandeo’s massacre at Bealnew.
‘The king will surely be aggrieved by this,’ said Seybeo, chairing a meeting of his peers at his home at Mornawl, ‘and our settlement is thusly jeopardised, our long-sought peace delayed. The only consolation I can find is that the man himself has paid dearly for his treachery.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ said Godlawga, the Earl of Rogavol. She was always the last to know.
Seybeo invited Ayrmodho to speak, and he said, ‘Thrandeo is dead. A pair of his fellows came to me at Bealnew, and with them they brought his body, and that of his eldest son.’
‘Osfero,’ said Seybeo. ‘I have met him.’
‘I sent them home for burial. They should be ashes in the earth by now.’
‘Then that must be why you are here,’ said Godlawga, and she pointed to the only person in the room she did not recognise. She was a woman called Asredha, and she had been elected to the Earldom of Noynavol in the weeks since Thrandeo’s burial.
‘That is why I am here,’ said Asredha.
‘And that is why I have summoned you here today,’ said Seybeo. ‘We must assume the king will seek to strike back, and we must therefore be as one and elect from among ourselves a new overlord to see these dire days through.’
The earls all agreed to that, and two candidates came forth—Seybeo and Ayrmodho. They each stood before their peers and made their pleas, and when the voting was done, Ayrmodho was backed by Balkena, the Earl of Fawnavol, and Frewdha, the Earl of Syagavol. Everyone else supported Seybeo, and he was thusly elected.
‘Oy-oy!’ he said. ‘You have chosen well.’
‘As well as a mole flies,’ said Ayrmodho, ‘or a swift burrows.’
Seybeo took the earls’ oaths later that day. They each came up in turn, until only Ayrmodho remained. He did not arise. Seybeo went to him, put his hand on his back, and kissed his cheek.
‘Make me an oath,’ he said, ‘or make me a foe.’
‘Then we are foes,’ said Ayrmodho, and he left the room and returned to Bealnew.
That proved to be very ill-judged. Seybeo arranged to meet the king once more to renegotiate, and to his surprise, she agreed to this. They met at Openn, and after several days of discussion, they came to a new agreement. The king was to relinquish her claim to kingship over Norlonn, and the claims of all her descendants. In exchange for this, the skulls of her predecessors, Arkelo and Arneo, her father and her uncle, would be returned from Kyalannes, where they yet hung above the earl’s door. Thrandeo would be posthumously outlawed, and his daughter, Throda, would be betrothed to the king’s younger brother, Olvero. Lastly, the king would retain the right to claim kingship over Eylavol.
‘If Ayrmodho will not bow to me,’ said Seybeo, ‘he is welcome to bow to you, if you can make him.’
He and the king made an oath to this effect, and they fastened it with treaties signed in red. Then they parted ways.
The king brought her treaty to Syorbak to be ratified by her council, but before she could present it, she was intercepted by Erlawga, Karvalo’s sister, and Thorreda, whom he had chosen to be his second councillor.
‘King,’ said Erlawga, ‘I have heard about this treaty you signed with the earl. Hold on to it for now.’
‘Why?’ said the king. ‘It would be all the better to get it sorted sooner.’
‘So you would think,’ said Thorreda, ‘but that is not the case. From what I hear, you have struck a rather poor deal. You would be wise to let it sit for a while, lest you make a fool of yourself and imperil your kingship.’
‘I think you have misheard. I have secured better terms than I had before, though it cost a great many of my thanes, and others besides.’
‘That may be so,’ said Erlawga, ‘but it would nonetheless be more fruitful to let us fully deliberate before the treaty is presented.’
The king remained sceptical, suspecting they were conniving on Karvalo’s behalf, but she was yet indebted to him. She dared not risk incurring the wrath of fate.
‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘We can wait a while.’
Then Erlawga and Thorreda bowed in unison, and they moved along.
In the following days, Karvalo sent a woman named Owfdea to Sralof, one of his steward towns. Owfdea was his niece, being the daughter of Erlawga and her late husband, Knaffeno. Knaffeno’s cousin was a woman named Tholmana, and she was the Steward of Sralof. She was also Karvalo’s sister-in-law, being the half-sister of Seyglena, his wife, but most importantly, Tholmana’s wife was none other than Foldea the Chancellor.
Owfdea was only at Sralof for a few days before Tholmana suddenly died. Her death was very unexpected, and no one could determine any cause beyond simple misfortune. Keen to swiftly appoint her successor, Karvalo arrived the next day and granted it to Owfdea. He sat her before the household and said, ‘If anyone would dare oppose my appointment, stand up and say so.’
One woman alone stood up. She said, ‘Would it not be more fitting for the stewardship to pass to her wife?’
‘Her widow,’ said Karvalo, ‘cannot assume the stewardship on account of her chancellorship. Read the law, if you doubt me.’
That settled that. Tholmana was burned and buried the same day, whereafter Owfdea took control of Sralof and Karvalo went home, but not before he sent a rider racing off to Syorbak with word of the death of the chancellor’s wife.
Upon receiving this news, Foldea turned at once to tears and hastened away to Sralof. There she found her wife dead and buried, her inheritance stolen.
‘Thief!’ she said to Owfdea in the hall. ‘Have you no shame, sitting there upon your stolen seat?’
‘Nothing in this house has been stolen,’ said Owfdea, ‘but the peace and quiet, and that was stolen by you. Get out of here, before I get you out.’
Foldea spat on the floor and made her way to Pearmol. She came before Karvalo, and she told him what had happened at Sralof.
‘Your wretched niece,’ she said, ‘has swiped my inheritance from me. Lord of Pearmol, I bid you make this right!’
‘There is no such need,’ said Karvalo. ‘The stewardship is mine to grant, and I granted it to her. I will say no more about it.’
Foldea took a moment to consider her words, but she ended up saying none as she fell weeping to her knees.
‘Enough of this,’ said Karvalo. ‘Get out of here, before I get you out.’
Then he had her bustled out of the hall and tossed down the steps.
Finally, Foldea returned to Syorbak, but when she came to the hall, she was stopped by the king, Erlawga beside her. After being reminded of her oath, the king said, ‘Foldea, you have been away awhile. During your absence, I had immediate need of my council, but my chancellor was nowhere to be found. I had to choose a new one. I hope you understand.’
‘No,’ said Foldea. ‘Tell me what happened.’
At Erlawga’s urging, the king had summoned the royal council to present her treaty, but she did so before she knew Foldea was away. The treaty could not be ratified without the chancellor present, and so she was forced to make a new appointment to ensure its ratification. Of course, Erlawga would not let Foldea know about that.
‘There is no need,’ she said. ‘After all, you are no longer the chancellor.’
Foldea sighed. ‘My wife is dead.’
Erlawga sighed in kind. ‘We are all widows here. Get over yourself.’
‘They buried her without me. Do you understand? They took her from me! You will not take this!’
Then Foldea attacked Erlawga, but they exchanged only a few blows before the king separated them.
‘My friends,’ she said, ‘let us be civil.’
‘What civility,’ said Foldea, ‘is there in you reavers, you looters who would plunder my heart, my life, for all you can take. Take it all! Take my life!’
Erlawga said, ‘There is nothing left worth taking. Get out of here, before I get you out.’
So Foldea left Syorbak utterly destitute. The king then affirmed Erlawga’s appointment to the chancellery, and her oath was nearly fulfilled.
With nowhere else to go, Foldea made her way to Fessos to visit her father and fell weeping upon his shoulder. ‘Father! All is lost!’
‘What is it this time?’ said Rago.
‘They have taken everything from me—everything!’
‘And yet you still draw breath. All is not lost. If they have wronged you, do something about it. Or you can put it behind you and go on. There is no shame in that.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘But whatever you do, my girl, do not give up. You are my daughter, Foldea. You lot are stronger than that.’
Foldea wiped her tears away and said, ‘And what of Rolkwea, yet suckling at the king’s teat?’
Rolkwea was Foldea’s sister. Being the Reeve of Eylavol (albeit in name alone), she remained a stalwart ally of the king, despite Foldea’s mistreatment.
Rago said, ‘We each do what we must to make our way in the world. There are sourer teats to suckle than the king’s.’
‘And there are many far sweeter,’ said Foldea. ‘I will make this right.’
Rago loosed a tear. ‘Foldea, 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 he bowed his head, and Foldea departed.
She made her way northwards to Bealnew, where she met with Ayrmodho and bade him take her in as his friend and ally.
‘Why should I do that?’ said Ayrmodho. ‘You and your lot are the king’s lackeys, no? I ought to do you in here and now.’
‘Stay your sword,’ said Foldea. ‘I have no cause to serve them. Not now.’
‘Say more.’
Foldea told Ayrmodho about her recent ordeal, and about her newfound hatred of the kingship, and he heard every word with an eager ear. That is, until her tale turned to the matter of Seybeo’s treaty.
‘He has ceded my earldom?’ said Ayrmodho. ‘It was never his to cede!’
‘Quite right,’ said Foldea. ‘He has thrown you to the wolves, and the wolves are hungry. The king is coming—she will not forgive your treachery—but I can help you. I know her well, and the order of her kingdom. Together, we can overcome this. There is just one thing I ask of you.’
‘What is that?’
‘Ordenn. Return my home to me.’
Ayrmodho bowed his head. ‘I think we will do good work together.’
Then Foldea made her way to Ordenn. Since taking the earldom, Ayrmodho had granted the town’s stewardship to Gaydeno to keep it in a pair of trusted hands. Gaydeno received Foldea with poise, and though he did so reluctantly, he surrendered the stewardship to her.
‘My first loyalty,’ he said, ‘is to my lord. If this is his will, it will be done.’
Gaydeno left Ordenn and returned to Bealnew. Ayrmodho soon received a messenger from the king, inviting him to Syorbak to determine exactly how his domain would be brought into her kingdom.
‘What say you?’ said the messenger.
Ayrmodho said nothing. He had the messenger seized and his fingers cut off one by one, and only when he had lost them all was he killed. The fingers were boxed up, and Ayrmodho sent the messenger’s companions home with a warning.
‘Tell the king,’ he said, ‘that if she is to stick her fingers in my business, she had best be prepared to lose them.’
When they brought these words back to Syorbak, the king knew at once that her war was not yet done. She spent that winter considering her options, until she came into the company of her uncle, Tholreo, at Openn.
‘Or rather,’ said Tholreo, chortling, ‘I suppose I am your former uncle now, what with the rift between mother and daughter.’
‘Say no more of that,’ said the king. ‘The price of peace is steep, but it is a price I must pay. I will end this war and bring my kingdom to heel.’
To that end, Tholreo was to lead a new expedition into Eylavol. The king did not go herself, for that had not proven wise in recent years, but Tholreo did not begrudge her for it.
‘Pay it no mind,’ he said. ‘I will do you proud, my little willow wand.’
So he mustered an army from his shire and set forth, but he did not get far. Ayrmodho met him at Fegenlog, and there they fought. The battle was long and hard, each side pressed tight upon the bridge, but in the end, Tholreo’s line fell first, and Ayrmodho took the victory.
He did not get the chance to enjoy it, however, for so hot was the fire in his blood that he led the pursuit with nary a thought in his head. As he rushed howling behind his foes, he was beset by a throng of Tholreo’s stouter thanes, and they slew him. His body fell into the river, never to be recovered. Foldea came to support Ayrmodho, just as she had promised, but she too was slain in the fighting, and the battle was rendered indecisive.
In the days thereafter, the magnates of Eylavol convened to elect a new earl, and the man they chose was Eslayvo. Eager to avoid further violence, he agreed to meet the king at Ordenn, and with his magnates’ support, he negotiated one final settlement. Bealnew and its surrounding lands would become a lordship full and proper, and he its first lord, with the rest of Eylavol becoming a shire beholden to the king’s law. Both parties agreed to these terms, oaths were made, treaties were signed, and that was that.
It happened later that year that Rago died at Fessos, and he was granted the honour of a royal funeral. In attendance were Rolkwea and Alkeo, the only two of his sixfold children to survive him, the king and her mother, though they stayed well away from one another, and Erlawga the Chancellor. Eslayvo also came, and in his company was Throda, Thrandeo’s daughter, who was to be brought into the royal household and betrothed to the king’s brother, Olvero.
At the lawmoot in the following year, Eslayvo was admitted to the rede as the Lord of Bealnew, as was Rodholo as the Lord of Oyfnawl, finally fulfilling the king’s oath to Karvalo. Her treaties were then fully ratified by the rede, and thus was peace, at last, restored.