The Kinstrife
Part
23
In
which we escape from Tarannon’s Villa by boat;
carouse in Tarannon’s Launch; sail through the Ethir with Ranmes; discuss
politics over dinner and sail to Umbar.
Session 23: afternoon
We discuss
Beruthiel’s diary and what to do: we seem to have three options, a) overnight
in the fort and start back to Tarannon’s Launch in
the morning; b) return now, spending at least one night in the marsh and
possibly two; leave now by boat and head for the river.
The fort gives
an illusion of security but we couldn’t defend it from any night assault and
the sacrificial stone and knife may indicate supernatural intervention, beyond
the marshlight cats of the marsh. If we set out now
we would have to deal with the marshlights once again
and the Cult of Benish Armon
undoubtedly know the marsh well. The timing might mean we spend two nights
exposed to marshlights and mundane assaults by
superior numbers.
However,
since Ilvren seems confident of finding the main
river channel and is competent in small boats, we take the smallest boat
capable of taking our numbers and set out immediately, Ilvren
rowing. Brand, after a little debate, takes Beruthiel’s
diary. We make the Anduin by dusk but I urge her to
cross the river; if we camp on the far side we will have the river between us
and any antagonists.
The Anduin is wide this close to its estuary and it’s well dark
by the time we make ‘landfall’ (if that term is appropriate to the semi-solid
sludge nudged by our keel), too dark to find a suitable campsite. So instead we
moor our boat and sleep aboard, taking turns on watch.
It is
during my own watch, not long after
The
day dawns bright and warm and we breakfast on bread and cheese again before
setting out for Tarranon’s Launch. We cannot expect Ilvren to row all the way so we take turns and I find,
after a period of trial and error, that I have an unexpected talent. (It’s reassuring
to know that, should my career take a downturn, I can always retire to the Ethir and become a ferryman.) However, we would have made
better time with four rowers of Ilvren’s calibre and
only make Tarranon’s Launch by late evening, though
still well before dark, thanks to the season.
Our return
by boat draws attention from the villagers as we make our way to the inn, where
Al-Han waits with the balance of our luggage. I enjoy a warm bath and Al-Han
lays out a change of clothers; there’s nothing like
marsh travel for making you feel dirty. Newly kempt, I thank Al-Han and descend
to the bar, why I find my companions, also newly abluted.
Though
no one likes to ask openly, the villagers are clearly curious as to our
experiences. I think the truth will not quite do so I ask if anyone has
suggestions for a palatable untruth and Ilvren
suggests that we simply lost the trail and then waded to a boat we had
previously concealed, just for the purpose of an escape. Our boat looks in good
enough shape that no one is likely to guess she’s several centuries old and it
has the virtue of simplicity so this is the agreed untruth.
That
evening, it seems most villagers are intimidated by my station, only the
village headman feels able to make an approach but I do my best to set him at
his ease and stick to our established story. Personally it feels a little weak
but he seems to accept it in the spirit in which it is offered.
Over the
next two days, I act the part of a young noble intent on carousing while
keeping a wary eye open for strangers asking awkward questions. Of course, many
people are asking questions and all of them are strangers to me. So I ask Aerin
if she recognises any from her previous week in the village. Unfortunately,
this draws unwanted attention, but luckily I’m able to divert with a merry
jape.
Unwanted
attentions do not materialise in to anything resembling hostility and
mid-morning Ranmes vessel, a riverboat, puts in to Tarannon’s Launch. Pimm greets us
from the quarterdeck, having spent the last few days organising Ranmes expedition. Within an hour or two all our luggage
and persons are aboard and we’re sailing for the Ethir
Garrison.
Three days
later we arrive at the Garrison after an entirely uneventful trip. It seems the
plan is to transfer to a seagoing vessel, which Neithan proposes to pilot to
Umbar.
That
evening, Neithan holds a dinner to celebrate our reunion. He invites Ranmes (who brings Pimm), Ilvren (who represents someone called Rastorin
who is evidently her superior) and me and my ‘entourage’ of Aerin and Brand.
Over the
meal, which is perfectly edible but obviously limited by the Garrison’s
position as a fort in a marsh wilderness, conversation drifts from current
affairs in Pelargir, via Pelargir politics, to the politics of Umbar. Having
been thoroughly briefed by Ranmes some weeks ago, I’m
able to hold my own.
Umbar
politics is essentially polarised around the sea faction and the land faction. The former under Lord-Captain Menelmir,
who commands the Southern Division of the Gondorian
fleet and the latter under Governor Telemnar, the
Queen’s father. Everyone around the table assumes everyone else here is
pro-land faction, as we are all adherents to the Queen, to one degree or
another.
Something I
didn’t know is that Menelmir is not well thought of
in the fleet. He owes his position entirely to his long-standing relationship
with Castamir and his family’s stature as one of the foremost in the Lebennin. But Menelmir himself is
petty and paranoid, given to purging his ships of suspected ‘loyalists’ at
every turn. Despite this, he is reckoned an experienced admiral.
Menelmir
and Telemnar perpetually lock horns over the
allocation of funds for the consolidation of Gondorian
power. Telemnar sees the Cult of the Dark Lady, which
is gaining ground in the Haradwaith, as the principal threat to Gondorian policy. Menelmir wants Bozisha Dar strengthened to serve as a staging point in
extending Gondorian Sea Power south against the Storm
King.
Brand
brings up Celebrindor’s sojourn in the Haradwaith and
Ranmes comments that his activities only confirm Telemnar’s fears that the Cult of the Dark Lady is the
greatest threat. Unfortunately, it’s a subtle threat and dealing with it would
not be a simple matter, involving alliances and considerable investment in land
forces, while Gondor is principally a naval power.
The
governance of Umbar is a complex thing. Civil affairs are managed by the Grand
Council of seventy-two members elected by the guilds: the leading guilds of
goldsmiths, shipwrights, captains and merchant venturers
each appoint four councillors while the eight minor and fourteen artisan guilds
each elect three and two councillors, respectively.
Beyond this
Grand Council is an ‘electorate’ council of twenty-one, also elected by the
guilds, who in turn appoint the city officials. Chairmanship of the councils
falls to the Squire, who is appointed by the King annually. The current
incumbent, Gordacar, is a shipwright of great note
and has served as Squire for three consecutive terms since 1438. By all
accounts he is one of Castamir’s more gifted
officials, a very able administrator. His family has risen to prominence in
Umbar society and he has many investments in trading ventures.
It’s not
stated out loud but I suspect one of Gordacar’s
trading investments is in Kunbeshu’s expedition down
the coast. It’s the return of Kunbeshu that has
brought forward the autumn budget to midsummer.
Most of
those around the table mainly aim to gain information from attending this
budget: Ranmes will report back to Pelargir; I will,
of course, report to Queen Mûrabeth. Neithan, I
understand, has his own agenda; he hopes to secure an ‘auxiliary force’ for
policing the Ethir. He doubtless intends to neutralise
the pirates, who are maintained by Castamir’s uncle.
It seems we all intend to stay at the Drunken Southron,
so it will be cosy; privacy may be at a premium.
We set sail
in the Arinya Alkar
(Morning Glory in Westron) and find fair weather all
the way. I practise my swordsmanship. Brand studies Beruthiel’s
diary (but uncovers nothing new) and Aerin elects to just relax (which might
yet prove the wisest course).
We put in
to Umbar, which is surrounded by a magnificent wall, 45 feet high and 25 feet
thick – a superb piece of Gondorian architectural
genius, as beautiful as it is powerful.
In
contrast, Vinyamar, the naval port, has two walls,
neither of which is as aesthetic or effective as Umbar. The two walls are
separated by a ditch that in places is filled with refuse (which in my opinion
is no way to maintain an effective defence).
The two
towns form two halves of a circle split by the natural, snaking harbour formed
by the river as it threads its way through the headland on which the two towns
are built. Umbar has an official population of 24,000, Vinyamar
only 6,000. The joint conurbation is about two miles across at its widest
point.
As we enter harbour, we pass an enormous merchantman,
larger than any I’ve ever seen; Kunbeshu is here, as
expected.