Ten Arrows

Chapter 3

Some of my tenants hate me with a zeal that borders on fanaticism. Really, that's just the way it is.

I mean, it isn't because of anything specific I've done. If pressed, these particular tenants might not be able to explain their hatred, or pin down the precise reason for it. I'm no worse than some other Lords they might be paying tribute to after all, and Hades knows I'm better than some others I could mention. I protect their possessions, track down and replace things that are stolen from them, maintain the peace, and countless other thankless tasks, all of which tend to get overlooked whenever one of them decides to start a conversation about how greedy Lords are, or how we all profit on the backs of the poor, the hard working, and the downtrodden.

It used to bother me, but I've learned to deal with it. Really, none of it makes any difference in the end. I'm the one they hand their money over to, and so they hate me, and that's that.

However, regardless of how pragmatic you are about their feelings, filling an entire greeting hall with people who may or may not hate you can be a wee bit unsettling.

I'd decided to hold my meeting at the great hall at Tucat Court, the large, stylish building formerly known as Greybridge Keep. It was where Cyrus and most of my other staff lived, and where most of the business concerning my territory was handled.

The reason for holding the meeting there was obvious - if I'd have tried to do everything at Tucat Keep, it would have taken at least a half-dozen of these meetings just to get to everyone. My keep is more suited for small formal dinners than it was for large-scale meetings. Here at Tucat Court, I could address my several hundred tenants all at the same time, in the same room, and still only end up using about half of the massive great hall.

Of course, there was a down side to this plan, as I may have mentioned. Hundreds of shopkeepers and other tenants were now here, waiting for this meeting, and there was an animosity radiating from the greeting hall that was almost palpable. Even as I lay low in the kitchen, waiting for my guests to assemble, I could sense the collective mood clearly. Everyone who was at this meeting knew what day it was.

It was Pitch Day, the shopkeeper's holiday that occurred the day after Tenarreau's ceremony, when all of Harael got carved up into blocks of territory and assigned to Lords to govern for the year. It's kind of funny - nobody's ever come up with a single agreed-upon name for the Prince's yearly ceremony in all the years it's been going on, but the day following it has always been known as 'Pitch Day'.

My father had once told me a story about why they called it that, back when I was twelve. It was a short and unpleasant tale involving a Lord, an unhappy candlemaker, a burning lamp, and a bucket of pitch. Of course, when I recited that same story to my mother she'd practically exploded with laughter, and had promptly told me to march back into father's study and tell him not to fill my head with such foolishness, so I'm pretty sure he made the whole thing up. I doubt if anyone knows the real reason behind the name, but I've got my own theory.

You see, Pitch Day is the one day of the year that Lords can lawfully order any or all of their tenants to attend them. If a Lord is given more territory by the Prince, then naturally they acquire more tenants as a result. Pitch Day is supposed to be the day when Lords introduce themselves to their new tenants, tell them what sort of tribute they were expected to pay to their new Lord, announce tribute increases, and go over what sort of rights and protection they were being offered in return. In essence, it's a Lord's chance to 'pitch' themselves to their newest subjects.

I'm pretty sure that my version is about as accurate as the version my father told me, but whatever. It's called Pitch Day.

Most Lords, myself included, wait until a few days after Pitch Day before meeting new tenants one-on-one, mostly because large gatherings tend to be stressful for Lords and tenants alike. Generally speaking, on the rare occasion that these big, every-tenant-at-once meetings do take place, they don't end up going too well.