The Bloody Rebellion of Farris Grimholt

The Baron

Farris Grimholt looked down at the two headstones. The blazing anger he had felt at the death of his sons had cooled and now was hardened to vengeful resolve. He had raged against the spirit of the Mage, against the church, against the king and against all the world that this misfortune should have been laid at his door. Every morning and night he had prayed that they should recover, be delivered from this evil plague, but his prayers went unanswered. Now he would ride to Carafell and put his question, at the point of a sword, to the magisters and reese of the city.

He felt a hand at his arm and turned to find Namira beside him. She looked at the graves, where the bodies of those children born of her womb were buried, but her thoughts were her own.

'Come, they are waiting for you,' she said.

Together they left the small grove that grew in the north-westerly quadrangle of the castle, coming through the narrow doorway to the central courtyard and across to the great hall.

Every bench of the hall was full of knights in all their finery, with surcoats emblazoned with lions, boars, deer, woodcocks, foxes, flowers, trees, swords and axes in every colour. Farris Grimholt came to the head of the hall, taking a seat at the high table, his wife beside him, beneath the great symbol of Torburgh, the golden boar on a field of green. He looked down to the assembled knights.

He had sent word to every hall and castle in the south and all had answered the call. There were now a hundred and twenty knights sworn to his banner, each commanded a hundred men-at-arms, archers, riders, swordsmen and spears. Their army would outnumber that of the king. By the time they had crossed the river it would be too late for Aeron to muster his forces or send to William Blacksow for help. Each of them knew the risks of this endeavour. But the reward... If they managed to take the city they would be in charge of the whole kingdom. No longer ruled by the whims of reese and magisters, lords of their own thoughts and actions, free to give their allegiance to the noblest, the greatest, the strongest among them.

'Men of the south,' he said, rising to his feet. 'Many of you will have seen what end we have made of the reese who attempt to usurp our power.' As he said this a cheer went up from the men around and they hammered at the tables. The bodies of the reese, punctured with arrow wounds and blackened with fire had been left on the high hill outside Torburgh. Across the south the reese and magisters had suffered a similar fate. Some had been killed; others stripped naked and set on the long road to Carafell; some had simply been imprisoned and left to rot in castle dungeons.

'The coffers of the White Cathedral are overflowing with gold. Our gold. Our taxes go straight to King Aeron. And what do we receive in return for our generous gift?'

'Nothing!' came the rapturous reply from the men at the tables.

'The lands of the south were the first to fall to Illian when he crossed the great sea. Let us be the first to take them back!' he roared. 'You who are assembled here shall be well rewarded for your loyalty. When we have taken the city, we will have Hallam and Ravenswood stripped of their titles. The money they have stolen from us will be returned. If they believe we are devils, let them see that we are devils. They shall hate us, they shall fear us, but they shall never forget us. Now let us feast, for tomorrow we ride for Carafell!'

He gestured to the servants to bring food and wine for their guests as he took his seat. The hall was alive with chatter and many toasts were raised and libations poured to Lord Farris Grimholt, who had freed them from the shackles of the church.

'No word from Lord Elda,' Farris said to his wife as their food arrived, roast boar and apple. He had written to Lord Bark and Lord Elda expressing his wishes that they would join him. A messenger had arrived from Lord Bark informing him that this was an act of treason. If he took arms against Carafell he could not defend him. Bark's daughter was wed to the youngest prince of the city, Aelwyn, so Farris had expected no less. Now all their hopes lay with Lord Elda, who he knew had no love of the city.