If you're enjoying these stories, visit my Pat** on at: CaveLeather
only for 9$
In the reception hall, Arthur met with the envoys from Paxter Redwyne, who had been waiting for quite some time. There were two of them: a knight and his squire.
The knight was stout and sturdy, with a round face, small beady eyes, and an upturned nose that sat flat on his face.
The squire was about the same age as Penrose, a scrawny boy with a face full of freckles, clutching a white peace banner in his arms.
"Ser Arthur." As soon as Arthur entered, the round-faced knight placed a hand on his chest and bowed. "I am Ser Norbert, a landed knight from the Isle of Pigs. This boy is my squire, Pagg."
The young squire hugged the white flag nervously, stuttering through his greeting.
Arthur noticed the boy's fingers unconsciously picking at the hem of the flag. He signaled Penrose to take the boy outside to rest.
When the heavy wooden doors closed again, Arthur sat down on the high-backed lord's chair.
"The Isle of Pigs. That's a new name to me. Is it an island near the Arbor?"
"Just as you guess, Ser." A touch of pride appeared on Norbert's round face. "The Isle of Pigs is a vassal isle of the Arbor. I am here on the orders of my liege lord, Earl Paxter."
"And for what purpose has Paxter sent you?"
Norbert put away his pride and tried to look stern and imposing. Unfortunately, the effort only made his double chin more prominent, giving him a somewhat comical appearance.
"My Lord hopes that you will retract your earlier accusations against the Arbor and offer a public apology."
He puffed out his chest, trying to make his voice sound more forceful.
"As long as you comply with my lord's request, the Redwyne Fleet will immediately cease inspections of merchant ships bound for Starfall!"
Arthur tapped his fingertips lightly on the armrest, a playful glint flashing in his violet eyes. He truly wondered where Paxter had dug up this garlic clove of a knight, Ser Norbert of the Isle of Pigs.
Though, to give credit where it was due, Ser Norbert played the fool quite convincingly.
Seeing Arthur remain silent, Norbert assumed the Sword of the Morning was moved by his words. He pressed on while the iron was hot. "Ser, you can clarify that you were deceived by your subordinates. That way, neither side loses too much face."
"Ser Norbert." Arthur chuckled softly, looking at the man's face. "Did you offend Paxter Redwyne in some way?"
"Why would you ask that, My Lord?" A flicker of confusion crossed Norbert's eyes. "I swore an oath to my lord and have always been loyal to him."
"Ser, let us consider a hypothetical situation," Arthur said.
"If a band of men stormed your Isle of Pigs, burned your house and fields, and killed your brothers and your smallfolk... And after you accused the leader of that band of atrocities, he sent someone to demand you apologize to him..."
Arthur's tone grew colder with every word, the smile vanishing from his face. By the end, his voice seemed to grate through clenched teeth.
"Tell me, Ser. If it were you, how would you treat the representative of the enemy who burned your home and murdered your kin?"
Norbert wiped cold sweat from his forehead. "My... My Lord, I... I am an envoy."
He flashed the white flag he had brought, as if the cloth were a talisman that could save his life.
"Your lord didn't care about status when he killed my brothers and my people," Arthur said. "Men, women, children, septons, orphans—he killed them all."
"I don't know anything about that! I never took part in the things you wrote in your letter!" Survival instinct kicking in, Norbert stammered, "You are the Sword of the Morning! A paragon of knighthood! You are different from those pirates; you swore not to harm the innocent!"
"No one who comes from the Arbor is innocent. But I won't kill you. At least, not now," Arthur said coldly.
"Because that is exactly what Paxter Redwyne hopes to see.
"Do you realize that in his eyes, your life and the life of your boy squire are nothing but pawns to be sacrificed to stain my reputation?"
"Sacrificed?" Norbert's face went pale as sheet. He immediately grasped the implication of Arthur's words.
"When the liege lord treats his vassal like grass to be cut, the vassal sees the liege lord as an enemy. If he treats you so, are you still willing to die for him?"
Emotions warred on Norbert's round face. After a moment of struggle, he dropped to one knee.
"My Lord, I am willing to serve you. I swear it by the Seven and my honor as a knight."
Arthur personally helped Norbert up. "Very good, Ser. I will certainly not treat you as Paxter did."
"I will release you and send you back," Arthur continued. "To help me deliver false intelligence."
Norbert's eyes narrowed into slits.
Before coming here, Paxter had summoned him for a private audience on the Arbor.
His lord had informed him fully of the danger of this mission, taken his son as a ward, and promised to grant him lordship over the entire Isle of Pigs.
He hadn't expected to gain the trust of the Sword of the Morning so easily. To be sent back unharmed to deliver false information?
If I can go back, why would I deliver false information?
Norbert could almost see the massive rewards and wealth waving at him.
Thinking of this, Norbert put on a sycophantic smile and nodded repeatedly. "As you command, My Lord."
Arthur patted Norbert on the shoulder with satisfaction. "To ensure Paxter doesn't suspect you, I'll have my men give you a sound beating. Fourteen strokes of the rod should do."
"Huh?" Norbert, still immersed in his fantasies of glory, froze. "That's really not neces—"
Arthur raised his voice and shouted toward the door.
"Guards! Drag this knight from the Arbor outside and give him fourteen lashes to quell my anger!"
Two burly guards rushed in like wolves and dragged Norbert's stout frame out without a word.
The knight's feet kicked futilely in the air, his cloak with the Redwyne sigil dragging in the dust.
Soon, the sound of wood striking flesh and Ser Norbert's pig-like squeals echoed from the lower courtyard.
Norbert was pressed onto the punishment bench. It only took a few strokes for the skin on his fleshy buttocks to break.
The guards shouted with every strike:
"This is for the children who died in your attack!"
Thwack!
"This is for the Seven!"
Thwack!
Steward Nick, straddling the railing, yelled down, "You animals from the Arbor! If not for Lord Arthur's mercy, I'd drown you in the privy myself!"
A cook poked her head out of the kitchens, waving a ladle. "Mero! Carol! Did you not eat today? Hit him harder! I'll save you an extra slice of pork pie tonight!"
When the fourteen lashes were finally done, Ser Norbert was carried into a guest room like a puddle of mud.
Lying on his stomach in bed, feeling the fiery pain across his backside, Norbert gritted his teeth. This is just suffering before happiness!
As long as I report the critical intelligence about Starfall to Lord Paxter, all this suffering will be worth it!
Thinking of this, the pain in his body didn't seem so bad anymore.