An Arrangement
R obert Hollingdale tapped on the door, and at the muffled instruction to enter, he peered inside.
The office was immense with large windows allowing daylight to flood in and accentuate its fine architectural details and all the art treasures and books displayed on the walls, shelves, and pediments.
It was meant to impress, and it did so admi rably.
In the center of the room, the sub-chief of his clan sat with her elbows propped on the oversized desk and rubbed her temples. Charts and ledgers, invoices and inventories, lay spread out before her.
“Madam,” he said, “there are some people here to see you.”
Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon looked at him with her one keen eye.
The other was covered by a patch, an unfortunate defect of the otherwise comely young woman, and the result of her ill-advised venture of joining His Majesty’s Messenger Service.
He would never forget the scene that day over three years ago as they stood before King Zachary and she gave up everything, the luxuries, the secure future provided by her father, and her active role as sub-chief, all to be a lowly messenger.
Robert had gaped in disbelief as she removed her clan rings from her fingers one at a time and handed them over to the cargo master, along with the medallion that marked her position as sub-chief of Clan G’ladheon.
And for what? Danger, war, and injuries, just to deliver the king’s letters?
Of course, she had comported herself heroically and had been knighted, but that seemed little consolation in exchange for all she had given up.
She was here now, though, when the clan needed her, and her status as sub-chief reinstated, at least temporarily. It mattered.
“Who is it this time?” she asked in a weary voice. “Another debt collector?”
“No. The people claim personal business with Chief G’ladheon and will not be turned away even though I informed them he was not here. They insist upon seeing whoever is in charge. They say they’ve come all the way from Black Island.”
There was a glint of interest in her eye as he’d thought there would be. Black Island was the ancestral home of the G’ladheons.
“I know it has been a long day for you,” he continued, “and I can send them away if you like.” They were a bit, well, rough. Not the usual well-heeled visitor that ordinarily came to this office.
“Did they give a name?” she asked.
“Turval. Do you know it?”
She shook her head. “Send them in. I could use a break from staring at these figures.”
Their affiliation with Black Island must have piqued her interest enough to see them despite her weariness.
He brought in the trio, a man and woman of middle age, and a younger man in his mid- to late twenties.
Their son, he thought. They gazed about the airy office in awe.
Attired in woolens and oilskins, and heavy boots that clomped on the floor, they looked more ready to haul nets out on some offshore fishing bank than to present themselves to the daughter of the premier merchant of Sacoridia.
Sir Karigan folded her hands atop the desk and appraised the visitors coolly. The office was beset with an uneasy silence.
“Is there something I may help you with?” she asked at last.
Robert decided to stay and stood just inside the doorway to observe the exchange, in case she required his assistance.
“Well,” the older man began, a little nervously, Robert thought. “I—”
“Kariny Grey, is that you?” the woman blurted.
A stunned silence followed, and a glance to Sir Karigan showed a slight paling of her cheeks.
“Clare,” the man said, “what are you saying?”
The woman passed a trembling hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s like...It’s like seeing a ghost. For a moment...” She stared directly at Sir Karigan. “You look very much like her.”
“Sake of the gods, woman,” the man said, “what are you on about?”
Clare turned to her husband. “This is her, Edwin Turval. The one we came for—Kariny and Stevic’s girl.”
Edwin looked at Sir Karigan in startlement, but the younger man’s expression was, to Robert’s mind, more interesting, a mixture of disgust and eagerness.
“Is she right?” Edwin asked. “You’re Stevic’s girl?”
She stood, wariness in her gaze now, and she placed her hand over her heart and gave a slight bow. “I am Karigan G’ladheon, sub-chief of Clan G’ladheon, at your service.”
“I was expecting someone more...” Edwin swallowed the words he’d been about to say.
Robert guessed that he had been expecting someone more demure, less commanding and confident, maybe younger.
Someone more . . . girlish. A young lady who was not missing an eye.
The man doffed his cap. “My apologies. We didn’t expect, that is to say, we hadn’t known you’d be here, as sub-chief.
Last we heard, you gave all that up. My name’s Edwin Turval.
My wife, Clare, and my son, Vernas. We come to see your pa, but this fellow—” He jabbed his finger in Robert’s direction. “—said he’s gone.”
“If you’ve business with my father,” she replied, “I am afraid you must address it with me at this time. I am overseeing the business of Clan G’ladheon in his absence.”
Good, Robert thought. She was being discreet. Not that it was a secret Stevic G’ladheon was off on a trading mission in the far western seas, but she wasn’t trusting these people with details.
“Heard something about that in Corsa,” Edwin said. “Wasn’t sure if it was true, so we came up here to his other office. Real sorry your aunt has been sick.”
She drew her eyebrows together. “Master Turval, I am very busy. If you could please state your business?”
“I guess you got no time for your own people, eh?”
Wisely, she did not respond.
“Well, then. Here it is. I am a good friend of your grandsire, Sutton G’ladheon. Very good, and about twenty years ago, we made an arrangement that benefitted us both greatly.”
Curiosity crossed her face, but was quickly shielded with a neutral expression as if to deny any interest in the Black Island G’ladheons.
“Any arrangement you’ve made with the man who was my grandsire has nothing to do with Clan G’ladheon.
Sutton G’ladheon, and his kin residing on Black Island, are not members of the clan, nor are they considered family. ”
And so it had been, Robert thought, since the day a young Stevic had sailed from the island to find his fortune elsewhere and never to return.
“Well, sore that is,” Edwin muttered. “They’re good people, and your grandsire is a great man, but I know the feud between your sire and grandsire is long-standing. You should know, however, this arrangement has everything to do with you.”
“I’m sorry, Master Turval, but this interview is over and I wish you a good day. Robert, will you please show them out?”
“Of course, madam,” Robert replied, stepping forward. “Master—”
“Now, you wait just a minute,” Edwin shouted. “I’m not finished.” He pulled a document from his pocket. The ribbons of several seals dangled from it. “I have here a sworn document, all legal and everything, and no chit of a girl is gonna tell me what to do.”
Robert bristled, but Sir Karigan merely lifted an eyebrow. “Robert, perhaps you should inform Constable Niles that we require his assistance in escorting the Turvals out?”
“Immediately, mad—”
“I’m sorry!” Edwin cried. “I’m sorry I snapped. My wife tells me I can get a mite sharp at times, and I forgot myself. Please don’t get the constable. We’ve had a long journey to get here, and after everything, to be told to leave, it is hard to bear. Please, just hear me out.”
With more patience than Robert himself could have summoned, she replied, “All right. Speak, and then you leave.”
“Good, good. Fine. It’s like this. Sutton and I being good friends, and the top men on the island, formed an alliance.
It’s been profitable. We got a fleet of fishing boats together and sell our catch up and down the coast, even in the Under Kingdoms. We don’t got wealth like this—” He waved vaguely at the office’s interior. “—but we’ve done well.”
“I don’t see—”
“I’m still having my say,” Edwin said, “and you need to hear it because of the law.”
“I am losing my patience, Master Turval. Get to the point.”
The man nodded. “This is my legal arrangement with Sutton.” He waved the document about again.
“The lynchpin of this arrangement is you. The document says that when the granddaughter of Sutton G’ladheon was of age, she would marry my son, Vernas, here.
Unfortunately, due to one thing or another, we couldn’t get here sooner, and I would say, girl, you are well past marrying age.
Unfortunate. You’ve got airs, but I reckon Vernas will make you into a proper wife. ”
Robert was aghast. The man was claiming a marriage alliance? Sir Karigan did not argue or question the islander. She simply sat behind the desk and sighed, looking more annoyed than surprised.
“Vernas,” Edwin continued, “will be a good, strong husband for you, which clearly you need, and you’ll make many children together who will be healthy and well-provided for, and carry on the Turval name.”
“Robert,” Sir Karigan said calmly, “would you please look over the document and advise me as to its legitimacy?”
“Yes, madam.”
“It’s legitimate,” Edwin countered, holding the paper to his chest.
“Robert,” she said, “is educated in the reading of legal documents. I heard you out, so courtesy dictates you allow my secretary to read it, and counsel me on what apparently affects my life so dramatically.”
Edwin reluctantly handed the document over. The room grew silent while Robert examined the language of the arrangement, the seals, and the signatures. Edwin’s was a thumbprint.
“Well, Robert?” she asked.
He licked his lips. “It is a little cruder than what I am accustomed to seeing, but the language is correct, and it appears to be properly witnessed and signed, including the signature of Sutton G’ladheon. It appears to follow all the conventions of a lawful agreement, but...” He hesitated.
“Yes?” she said.
“I am no law speaker,” he replied, “and would recommend further examination by one.”
Edwin snatched the paper out of his hand. “Oh, it’s lawful, all right. Any law speaker would tell you so. And what it means, girl, is that you’re family. We plan to take you back to the island with us.”
She leaned forward. “In that you are mistaken. My grandsire holds no rights to determine my future in this manner. Only my father could approve such a thing.”
“He’s not here, is he?” Edwin growled. “And the father of your father is the head of the family, and it is law.”
“I disagree,” she said, “but there is one who supersedes any head of my family, rendering your document irrelevant.”
“What?” Edwin blinked stupidly. “Who?”
“Our king.”
Robert silently cheered. Her position as a Green Rider was coming in useful after all.
“I am the king’s own messenger,” she continued, “a Green Rider. My service to the realm prevents me from moving to Black Island and marrying.”
“You will quit.”
She smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. “It does not work like that. I am beholden to the king’s service for the foreseeable future. If you have a problem with that, you may go before him at his next public audience.”
Robert wanted to laugh at the expression on Edwin’s face as he glanced at his son and wife, then to the document in his hand, before returning his gaze to Sir Karigan.
“I will—I will get a law speaker and we’ll see about this!” he sputtered.
Imagining the scene of this fisherman standing before King Zachary and demanding the hand of his royal messenger in marriage to the sullen-looking Vernas only deepened Robert’s amusement.
“You do that,” she said. “Robert, show them out, and if they won’t go, Constable Niles can help.”
Robert was glad that this time the man did not resist, though he seethed all the way out. Robert locked the door to ensure they did not return uninvited.
When once more he entered the office, he found Sir Karigan resting her head on the desk.
“Madam?” he inquired.
“Why?” she asked plaintively. “Why are people always trying to marry me off?”