A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 16

The large courtyard was indeed completely packed, so that there was hardly a place for another single person to stand. In the front ranks to the left of the long scaffold, were the families of the condemned, bewailing the fate of their men. To the center were the new city selectmen, the guild masters, and other burghers of the city. To the right, were all of the senior officers of the city guard and the officers and commanders of the formerly private baronial armies. Then the rest of the courtyard filled with a great mass of the loyal men and women of the city, eager to see justice done.

After a brief consultation with the still dour Oddtus, who was certainly not wearing his motley Foole's costume for this large audience, the Lady Ayleth stuck quite to her prepared script. Reading forth her prepared signed and sealed proclamation, attested to by the authority of two separate Dukedoms, she first stripped each of the baronial families of their nobility, all of their lands and titles being now forfeit to their respective Duke. Stripped even of their own family estate, the sixteen families would be escorted under guard to their homes and each only allowed to take with them such personal possessions as could fit unto one wagon, and their own backs, (which certainly did not include sacks of gold or silver plate) and given instructions to either abjure both Duchies forever, or else accept resettlement to some small minor wilderness lands.

This was harsh, but fair. Even the Lady, ever sensitive to the better qualities of noblemen, agreed that these stern measures were necessary. Even with the rebellious barons executed for their treason, even a brief examination of their elder sons suggested that their pride and willfulness had not been tamed, or even much curbed. The eldest sons would assume the titles and would once again bear homage only reluctantly and under duress, and would undoubtedly begin to act independently once more, the moment any supervising army left their sight. Instead of a few very powerful barons ruling this vast valley, it was decided that having a great many smaller strong-holders would be better, at least for now.

Her proclamation of justice finished, Rowan then spoke to the condemned, but his words were really more intended for the living.

"Citizens of Tellismere and Broadmore, and of the city of Kenniford. See now the justice of your Dukes and of your selectmen. These scoundrels did more than wage rebellion against their own lawful masters, they betrayed the common people of the Lloan Valley at the very time they needed wisdom and guidance the most. Instead of marshalling their forces when the army of the Boar-Men came, the Barons, and the most wealthy of this region, sought instead to protect themselves and their treasures, and they left their charges, the men and women of this land to their own helplessness. In our travels here we saw many dozens of villages and small towns sacked, their inhabitants slaughtered or worse, but your barons never raised an army for its defense. Instead their mercenaries were paid to protect them first and foremost of all from you, their own people, so that their vast wealth, and their stored wagons of food and grain would not have to be shared with the common people outside of their keep walls, who already had little or no provisions to withstand further siege. This is true treason, good people! Treason to the land and its people, not just rebellion to faceless Dukes who live far away enough to be nearly forgotten or safely ignored. It is for this treason alone that makes these miscreants worthy of execution alone, as an example and reminder to others, so that in future dark times your lords provide a better moral example and leadership. Let the execution of these miserable examples of human beings begin!"

As one, the floor of the gibbet was knocked loose, but the hanging men did not drop far, only a few inches, so that their necks did not snap and so they could slowly swing and choke to death. Upon The Lady's instructions, their hands and feet were free as well so that the condemned could kick, squirm and wiggle and die slowly, dancing for the crowd's amusement. It was to be a slow death, rather than a quick and merciful one, as would be inflicted upon the lowest of murderers or bandits.

After several minutes, as the kicking of their feet began to cease and several barons had gone quite unconscious, Rowan suddenly at once let his sword burst into flames and with a single arc of magical flame, sliced down each of the sixteen ropes holding the hanging men, freeing them to fall to the ground. Then their families were permitted to assist their fallen menfolk, and very slowly all of them were somewhat revived into consciousness. Now Rowan shouted and burst another bolt of flame into the air over the courtyard so that everyone would stop their talking and pay him heed once more.

"Men and women of this land, mark my words well for I shall utter them just this once. Heed now the wisdom and mercy of your Dukes! This is no time for any division amongst us, for the Boar-Men still consume this land and its people, and all must now fight to free our land, even those that have tried to steal it for their very own. Men and women, families of the condemned that stand now before me, if you would have your men but live yet awhile longer, get to your knees and give to me this oath!"

Grateful, nearly every single member of the former baronial families dropped at once to their knees, but some still rebellious sons did not. His patience exhausted, these truculent lads were swiftly gathered up taken off to a dark dungeon so that their pride and tempers might cool... for years if necessary. As Rowan recited the oath, as one all of the rebellious families, and indeed many of the courtyard of witnesses as well, repeated his words, the formula of the old archaic Blood-Oath, which not only bound a mans loyalty, but his very soul to upholding the very spirit of the oath. It was a dreadful oath that commanded utter obedience until death, and the most dire of consequences for any who should disavow its terms.

"By my heart, my blood, my will and my soul, I shall obey the commands of the Lady Ayleth, her Champion Rowan, and the Dukes of Broadmore and Tellismere, submitting in thought and deed to their will, summons and command, and I shall obey them with rightful obedience until the very last of the Eorfleode have been driven from all of the lands of men, then shall my past deeds be called in for full and careful measuring and accounting."

The Blood-Oath was indeed a terrible one, little used even by the most ruthless of Lords upon their minions, but to the Lore-Master's thinking, this was the only oath powerful enough to bind the obedience of the rebels. As Rowan had also set a limitation for the length of their service, this gave them an eventual out... and plenty of time enough for both duchies to get their affairs into order once the Boar-Men had been defeated and completely expelled. Securing a long term peace could be someone else's problem, not Rowan's.

What surprised Rowan and his friends the most about the additional city folk who accepted this oath as well, was that the sixteen mercenary commanders, the leaders of each of the baron's private armies, formally made their own submission, solely to personage of Rowan as well. They beat their fists upon their chests and shouted their oaths of loyalty and submission on their knees before the bemused lad, who accepted their service. Indeed he dared not to!

This solution, to 'half-hang' the traitors, had been the best compromise solution that the Counsel had been able to come up with. Ayleth was utterly dead set against the common indignity of hanging noblemen, and even Rowan, Boyle and Gwenda weren't sure they had the stomach for the task either. A really good scare, they thought, then shoving an unbreakable oath upon them while their guard was down, proved the easiest way to settle the matter. And indeed the plan had worked to perfection.

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Over the next day, the baronial families were brought before a special meeting of the Regimental Counsel, where each member was made to bow in supplication and given their instructions under oath-sign. For now, most of their large (and probably excessive) landholdings were confiscated to the Dukedoms, but some minor estates were allotted for the women and children of the baron's families. Their titles and noble privileges revoked, at least for the duration of the war, each of the barons, was directed to return to their homelands, and gather any and all of their former surviving subjects, see them back to the city in safety, and conscript every lad and man capable of bearing arms for the defense of the city, to be under the sworn command of the city counsel. They happily and even eagerly obliged. Each of them would wear the rope burn scars around their neck forever, a permanent reminder of how their lives, and their families as well, hung by just a thread, and they all swore a great many personal oaths to be good and very, very obedient.

The noble sons and nephews, and other kinsmen, were all directly expected to volunteer their service to the Duchy and given the choice of either joining the regiment (which now with the addition of the mercenaries appeared to be more the size of a brigade) or the city guard, and in lowly positions not to exceed the rank of a sergeant. Most chose the city guard, but about two dozen of the braver younger sons, and a few daughters, that wanted to make a name for themselves, as well as help clear their tarnished family name, saluted before Rowan and Gwenda and offered their loyalty and service without reservation. They were each very skilled horsemen and Boyle accepted them at once into his growing cavalry squadron.

Dealing with the wealthy merchants was a relatively simpler problem. As the barons and the treasonous merchants had brought into the keep a great amount of treasure for safekeeping, it was a simple matter for the regimental counsel to appropriate this ill-gotten loot in the name of both of the Duchies. This money, regardless of anything else, was forfeit, and if the terrified merchants wanted to keep their existing businesses, as well as their heads, then they would have to be very good and obedient, and exceptionally helpful as well. The new city counsel would be keeping a close eye on them and would keep their toes in the fire to provide anything that the city might need until the end of the crisis. The Lady Ayleth certainly had no qualms at all about hanging wicked merchants, and she made sure that they knew that their lives were still hanging by a slender thread as well.

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The way their regiment had grown, with the recent addition of the mercenaries, and a good many city guardsmen and new volunteers from the city, they couldn't just take everything that they needed from the city. They decided this confiscated treasure gave them a means of paying for the supplies that they would need to get back into the campaign against the Eorfleode, and perhaps even offer their soldiers a bit of pay. Although the former mercenaries had agreed to serve without pay, having some cash on hand in the supply train would be definitely useful. Here while in the city, the formerly rebellious merchants were eager to offer every provision free without cost that the regiment needed, and they did need quite a lot, but this sort of treatment might not happen at the next town or city they went to. With coins, they could pay for the supplies that they needed.

Even more of a concern was the idea of bonuses, especially for the crippled and wounded that could no longer now fight. The regiment had lost nearly half of its remaining soldiers in the battle outside of the city walls to either mortal wounds or crippling injuries. With Gwenda's leadership, an amount was agreed up to provide to all of the wounded here and back at Ruromel. Enough for each of the crippled to buy or start a business or a decent sized farm, with even some coin left over for future hard times. A smaller but still substantial bonus was paid to some of the widows among the camp-followers who had lost husbands, sons or fathers in the recent battles. Lastly, Rowan, Gwenda and Boyle passed out some bags of silver to their squadron and company commanders, so that the officers of each surviving unit could most properly award their soldiers who had fought the hardest or bravest. With coin in hand, their weary and wounded soldiers had more than enough with just their base bonus to thoroughly enjoy the delights of the city pretty much indefinitely. Much of the coin would end up in the pockets of tavern keepers and sisters of joy, but at least the men and women of the regiment would be able to make some bit of merriment in reward for their endeavors.

Even leaving 90% of the treasure alone secured in the keep for safekeeping, until the Dukes could sort and collect it, the new brigade needed four extra-sturdy wagons to take the remaining bit of money, largely all in bags of small silver coins. Money was certainly one of the very least of their problems, and not for the last time wished that the clever old ship's captain had lived to see this day. Their temporary acting quartermaster was more than a bit overwhelmed by his duties handling even a few small companies, and this new much larger force was far beyond his abilities. After passing the word around for a few days, a local trade-factor named Denis volunteered for the job, and as no one else wanted that thankless duty, this offer was gratefully accepted. It took him about a week to get everything organized, but Denis indeed had the situation now well in hand, and never let anything get disorganized again. He was also provisionally invited to join the Brigade Counsel, as were two of the most senior mercenary commanders, both veterans of fighting in many lands, near and far.

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The first problem that the counsel had to deal with, was how to sort and apportion all of the new men. Nearly overnight the former regiment of about two hundred human survivors was flooded with many times that number of mercenaries and with even more new recruits from the city. In total, now they commanded a true brigade of nearly four thousand soldiers, and the slight majority of these men and women were trained soldiers, many of them veterans. Simply for the sake of organization, the brigade also had now to divide itself up into two field battalions, each also with two very large regiments, except for the final 5th Regiment that included the numerous walking wounded from the old regiment, and the youngest and rawest of the new untrained recruits from Kenniford. They spent a day in conference and used up quite a lot of parchment, but in the end they had a soundly structured table of organization that everyone could live with and hopefully handle their greatly enhanced responsibilities.

They would have to reply a lot upon the new untested mercenary commanders, who had been mostly all promoted into company commander slots for each new fourteen companies. The remaining two had been posted into the M Company, as trainers for the nearly two hundred especially younger and more innocent volunteers placed into the reserve training company, but these veteran leaders would undoubtedly get their own chances for command sometime soon, especially the way trouble tended to follow Rowan and his friends.

The two most senior guard-captains from Kenniford, Harald and Guilliam, that had volunteered to serve in any position in the Brigade, were appointed much to their distress to be the two battalion executive commanders. Since they were both mid-aged grey haired veterans and hadn't actually wheedled to get the jobs, unlike several of the mercenary commanders, Rowan decided that they were just the men for the job and ones that he could trust... especially since neither of them really wanted these top day-to-day command positions and they both had to be gently encouraged to take them anyway.

Rowan and Gwenda, the joint nominal commanders of 1st and 2nd Battalion, had far too much to do already than to be able to care full time for about 1600 men and women, each, on a daily basis. Like it or not, their XO's would need to tend to the minor, but already growing bureaucracy and paperwork, and attend to the thousand or more needs of their junior officers, sergeants and even spare a thought or two for the poor arms-men and women. Rowan was sure that he had forgotten to think of at least a hundred different important and necessary things each day that needed to be done, yesterday, and if they could help him to remember even a few of these things, then ever so much the better.

More than anything else, their XO's, Harald and Guilliam, were needed to keep the camp disciplined and focused upon their next battle with the Boar-Men, and not accidently burning or looting the city that they had just liberated. After a day or two of pretty much uninhibited madness, the counsel resolved to get the entire brigade out of Kenniford, and only allow small groups at a time inside the city walls for liberty. The former all-too briefly occupied stockade for the mercenaries now became a proper military camp, and military disciple began to be restored.

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Their provisions restocked and with the last of their badly wounded now able to be safely moved with the baggage train, which was constantly ever-growing, Rowan, Boyle and Gwenda were frankly itching at their need to get their large bulky army onto its feet and moving -- somewhere, anywhere! On the other hand, the Foole was oddly taking the Lady's position that more organization was still necessary, and that their scouts had not done a proper long range reconnaissance yet of the valley. That large Boar-Man army, or at least half of a full one, had been misdirected off somewhere, and could be back soon, before the barons and their escort squads had returned from their missions to gather every fighting man and supply available in the valley. They weren't due back yet for some time still, but since even the goblins weren't quite sure where they had misdirected that large and very dangerous Eorfleode force off to, no one was quite happy about leaving the most important (and only) city in the Lloan Valley largely undefended.

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For most of another week, Rowan spent his days in a vague haze of constant war meetings, to decide this or that immediate problem, and his feet positively itched to get back onto the road, or rather into the saddle with Red once more. He had long since sent messengers to both the Dukes of Broadmore and Tellismere, and hoped that even a handful of troops, or even a reliable governor, could be spared to be sent to take over Kenniford. The new city counsel of selectmen was doing quite well already in everyone's opinion, but only Rowan or Lady Ayleth could really speak on behalf of either of the Dukes, and no one was quite sure what would really happen once Rowan's brigade of nearly four thousand men, not to mention the goblins, left out of sight... and probably out of mind.

Word via Boyle's ever expanding cavalry scouting missions was also getting out the word to the valley refugees and survivors that Kenniford was safe and sound (for the moment) and that everyone, and as much of the fall harvest that could be safely gathered, should be brought into the city. Most heeded that advice, and fresh conscripts and sacks of produce and grain were being brought in daily. Many of the new arrivals wanted to join up with the brigade, but Rowan feared that every man taken now would only weaken the city's defenses, and he only accepted the service of about half of those that wished to join. The ruined front gate that Rowan's sword had carved apart was now mostly back in good protective working order again, but every spare townsman was sent to widen and deepen the small existing moat in front of it, just for added security.