A New Plan

December 29

My concerns over Odrar are well founded. Today Jehan and I met with Ardythe over the rising crisis, but to no avail. The king cannot, or will not see beyond his own loss. I do not know what it will take to shake him out of this depression.
As planned, Jehan arrived two evenings ago and settled in to a guest room. Much sooner than I expected, he found me and we visited the king. Ardythe continues to reside in his son's room, though the healers have convinced him to let them remove the body—for which I am eternally thankful. We found Ardythe in his seat beside the sick bed, as though he were still watching over his son. He looked up at us, blinking a sleep and alcohol haze from his gaze.
“Jehan? What're you doin' here?” he slurred.
“First and foremost, I came to pay my respects to you and your son, my lord. May the gods smile upon him and he find safe haven in Orun. I am sure Adalah has welcomed your son in all his great wisdom.”
My gaze, which had been focused on the king, jerked towards Jehan's face. It was an odd statement to add to the traditional blessing, especially during a time of peace and for a young man who had died in a sick bed rather than on the battle field. Adalah was the god of war and bloodshed.
I steeled myself for Ardythe's response and therefore was greatly surprised to see his parched lips turn up into a smile.
Jehan always knew how to handle the king; he was as much a politician as he was a warrior.
Ardythe seemed to think slowly, as if the gears in his head needed oiling. Finally he stared up at the general. “What's the other reason you're here.”
The general smiled back. “You're perceptiveness never fails you, my lord. I understand from Marcys that Odrar is becoming something of a bother.”
“Yes,” growled the king as he turned back to the empty bed. “And I told Marcys to deal with it.”
“He has, my lord, within the scope of his abilities. He came to me, but now you and I must work together to solve this problem. We cannot allow Odrar to take us to war. I think we both know that in our current state we don't have the man power to defend our nation, and after three lean years, we don't have the wealth to hire an army from the foreign lands.”
“What does it matter? I also have no son to pass this once great nation on to. Therefore, why worry. Odrar can have it all back. What do I care?”
I wanted to speak up, to yell at him—anything, if only to see life in his once energetic eyes again. Instead, I bit my tongue and let the general respond.
“My lord, why did your great-grandfather fight for the Island's freedom, all those years ago.”
“You don't need a history lesson from me.”
“No, I do not. But you clearly need to be reminded of the great suffering endured by our people at the hand of Odrar. We were their slaves, their convicts, their whores. Now we are people with dignity and respect, because you're family never gave in to despair, never lost hope.”
“Don't patronize me, Jehan.”
“I wasn't, my lord.”
Ardythe looked up at us with fire in his eyes. Though it made me quake in my boots, I was happy to see something other than apathy in him.
“Get out!”
“But my lord.”
“GET OUT!!! It's over! Can't you see that! We have lost. The gods have abandoned us to the hands of our former masters. NOW GO!”
I quickly bowed and scurried from the room, but Jehan followed at a more sedate, dignified pace. Ardythe didn't frighten him the way he frightened me. Perhaps it was because Jehan was not employed quite so directly by Ardythe, as I was. Or maybe because Ardythe knew better than to strike a soldier like Jehan. Either way, Jehan was safe from his fists, I was not.
In the corridor we both slowed down as we thought through the king's response.
“I have an idea, but it may be rather foolish.”
Jehan nodded for me to continue.
“What we need most right now is time. Time for Ardythe to grieve in peace and time for us to come up with a plan of action, if I'm not mistaken.”
Again, Jehan nodded.
“Perhaps we could give them Aempleforth... as a sort of peace offering.”
“The whole island?”
“Well, it is difficult to give away half an island, especially one as small as Aempleforth.”
“I'm worried such action will advertise our weakness.”
“Our weakness hardly needs advertising. I am sure Odrar is perfectly aware of our abilities. Besides, if we plant a few dissidents in the island we can make it look as though we are doing it to please our people, while mostly pleasing Odrar.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I do recall hearing rumors of the residents on Aempleforth wishing to return to Odrar,” smirked the other man as he swiped his nose with a finger in a knowing manner.
“Then I can leave this project in your capable hands?” I asked.
Jehan nodded, his face severe and formal while his eyes danced with mischief.
Of course we will not arrange the gift without the king's permission, but we can still get things in motion. It will take some weeks, I believe, before the island will be ready and willing to return to Odrar. Rumors must be started. Discordance must grow. The men and women must become disheartened by Ardythe's rule and seek the boon of Odrar—this will give Ardythe plenty of time to battle the grief that presently consumes him.
I suddenly felt as though this task were impossible. How could we manipulate an entire island into thinking they wanted to return to their former masters—the very nation that brutalized and enslaved us less than a hundred years ago. Our memories are not that short.
Marcys