An Ally

January 4

Despite the need to handle many of the basic tenants of my position, I spent the day in the market place and along the docks. Why you ask? Well I will tell you.
Ardythe wants beautiful children to attract the attention of foreign royalty. Until a lucky thought crossed my mind, I was at a loss as to how to find such people.
I am not well traveled. It is not the job of a steward to journey with the king. The castle is my domain. I live, breath, eat the doings of those residing in and working for this great home. My knowledge of the Island's lords is based on how much they tithe to the king.
Thankfully, I did happen to have a passing thought that the traders might know which lords had sons and daughters worth looking at. After all, traders are seldom saints. They admire and ogle like other men, maybe even more than other men.
I took the old nag of a horse down to the central market and began strolling through the stalls. I found many appetizing items for sale, but very little information. One trader suggested Dartford, a city on a nearby island, due to their wealth and influence, though he could not remember any substantial facts about the family's children, other than their having a few.
From there I took the nag down to the docs where the traders were unloading their hauls into large wagons.
“Marcys, is that you, ol' fellow?” asked a familiar voice from amongst the barely controlled chaos.
I turned, searching for the face I hadn't seen in years, maybe even decades. And there he was. Haddock.
My brother-in-law.
It had been years, too many years, since we had last seen each other.
“Brother,” I said, too softly for him to hear in the throng, and waved my hand so that he knew I had spotted him. The last time we'd seen each other had been at the burial of his wife, my elder sister. She had died in childbirth, leaving behind a broken husband and an infant son, and I had been to preoccupied with Ardythe's needs as the acting leader of this nation while his father succumbed to a wasting disease.
Haddock limped up to me and slapped me on the shoulder. His leg had been badly damaged in his youth but that didn't stop him from working harder and faster than any in his crew. A man, who I assume to be Aleksandru, his son, followed at a short distance. Alek looked just as Haddock had at that age.

“It is good to see you,” he said in his usual verbose manner as he thumped my back again, for good measure.

“And you brother. You look well. Alek,” I added by way of greeting to my nephew.

“What are you doing in the slums of Bathum?”

“I would hardly call the docks the slums. But I am here on a rather odd and delicate mission for the king, and you may be just the man I need. Is there somewhere where we can talk?”

“Come aboard my ship. My cabin is quiet enough. Alek, lead the way.”

Haddock linked his arm with mine and I slowed my pace to match his while Alek weaved in and out of the crowd, subtly making room. A few minutes later we arrived at the appropriate dock, swayed our way along the dock to the plank, and bounced across it. The ship was a small thing, mostly covered in crates tied down and sailors working to undo the sturdy knots that held them. Haddock led us to a door leading under the poop deck and down a narrow hallway to his own cramped quarters. Alek leaned against the door, leaving space for Haddock to sit on his narrow mattress and the only swinging stool for me to perch on. Despite the claustrophobic feeling, I knew his room was spacious compared to what his men endured.

“Now, mind tell'n me what all the hush hush is about?”

“Well...” And I laid it all out before him, Fendrel death, Ardythe's depression, Odrar's threatening posturing, and our current plan to forestall war. Haddock listened quietly while he ran his rough fingers through his white beard. Alek, on the other hand, looked concerned. Early on in my retelling I noticed his eyebrows pull down in a frown. By the end, the muscles in his jaw were standing out as he ground his teeth together. Unlike his father, he did not have the years of experience to calm his reaction to upsetting news, or maybe he saw something in our future endeavors that we older men had not realized. I hope it is the first.

“So I am needing to track down a list of likely noble young men and women to be... um... adopted by the king.”

“Adopted?” scoffed the younger man. Haddock silenced him with one quick look.

“I thought you, who travel a great deal more than I do, might know of prodigious families. Their involvement may save this nation from a war that we cannot win,” I added, more to Alek than to his father.

Haddock nodded, as if he genuinely understood and agreed with me.

I just hoped I agreed with myself.

Alek shook his head and left the cabin.

“I know of a number of families with beautiful daughters and handsome sons. All intelligent and well educated. I will give you a list,” he added as he turned to a little writing desk that hung from the ceiling between my seat and the bed. On it was attached a small box with rolls of paper and a black writing stick. He began to scrawl a quick list in a short, blockish hand.

With the list safely tucked under my warm, fur-lined vest, I ventured forth and returned to the castle.

The list he provided me had the names and locations of nine families scattered around the Island nation. I did not know how many children the king thought he needed to adopt but I hoped this would be sufficient. I recognized a name or two from the list due to the fact they owed back taxes. Should I inform the king of this? It would be a helpful fact to have at hand if the nobles became difficult. Perhaps a trade?

What was I thinking? What father would trade their son or daughter for a few years of back taxes?

Had I had any children left, I would never trade them.

Marcys