‘You will need a cloak, sir; there is a vicious wind.’
‘I’ll take the black one, with the sheepskin lining and the hood.’
‘It needs to be oiled, sir. I will have it ready after the meeting.’
After breaking his fast with bread and a little cheese, Errin walked across the courtyard to the main hall. Some membeis of the Council were already inside, waiting to be summoned through to the inner chambers.
‘Good morning, Lord Errin,’ said a portly man dressed in riding clothes of green velvet. Sweat shone on his brow.
‘It is pleasant to see you, Lord Porteron. I missed you at the feast.’
‘Yes, yes. I had work to attend to. I am told it was a fine affair.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Errin, turning to greet a newcomer. ‘Lord Delaan, good morning. You look wonderfully refreshed considering your exertions on the dance floor.’
The slim young man in the brown tunic grinned. ‘Youth, my dear Errin. My, my, you do look a little frail.’
‘I guarantee that I look better than I feel. You know Lord Porteron?’
‘Of course. How are you, sir?’
‘I am well. Very well. Couldn’t be better.’
During the next few minutes the other lords and knights made their entrance. Last to arrive was the Lord Seer, dressed in robes of white. Errin greeted them all and sent a message to the Duke that the Council was assembled. As always the Duke kept them waiting the obligatory ten minutes, then they filed into the inner chamber where a long table was set with six chairs on either side and two at the head. The Duke was sitting talking to Cairbre.
As the nobles entered the Duke waved them to their seats and Errin strode the length of the table to sit alongside Cairbre. The man seemed greatly refreshed; his eyes were clear and there was colour in his pale cheeks.
‘I see that you slept well, Sir Cairbre,’ said Errin.
‘I am well rested. Thank you for your concern.’
The business of the day proceeded much as always. Tax gathering was discussed, and the greater incidences of robbery close to the forest. There was talk from Porteron of a problem with runaway slaves in the west and a shortage of skilled workers for the fields. It was agreed to ship forty slaves to his estate.
‘What is causing the shortage?’ asked Errin. Porteron blinked and rubbed at his sweating face with a handkerchief.
‘It is not a great problem, Lord Errin.’
‘I take your word for that, of course. But is it disease?’
‘No, no. Naturally we have followed to the letter the decree of our dear — and revered — monarch, but we have… had a large number of resident Nomads. They have been sent to Gar-aden, and… temporarily you understand… we are short of workers.’
‘I see. Thank you.’
‘We expected short-term problems of this nature,’ said Okessa smoothly. ‘But the land, and its nobles, can only benefit from the removal of these tainted souls.’
All around the table heads nodded in agreement. ‘You have a further point to make?’ Okessa asked.
Errin shook his head. ‘No, my Lord Seer. I understand that in Mactha there is now a shortage of bread, since the local baker was dispossessed.’
‘The shortage arose, Lord Errin, because the filthy Nomad burned down his own premises. He should have been hung.’
‘May I say a word, gentlemen?’ said Cairbre, rising. ‘I know — as does the King — that the removal of the Nomad vermin is bound to cause immediate hardship in many areas. But the ultimate goal is a worthy one… a crusade, if you will. Less than thirty years ago, the Lords of this kingdom ruled the entire continent. For two hundred years we brought laws, education, civilization to nations of barbarians. But we allowed ourselves to become weak, tainted with the blood of lesser peoples, and now we rule only the land of the Nine Duchies. Our strength, both physical and spiritual, has been polluted. A great cleansing is needed. Until this year the economy of the realm has been largely in the hands of the merchant class, who are predominantly Nomad. The King was becoming powerless in his own land. Now the treasury is ruled by the King and his wisdom is beyond question. The future, gentlemen, stands and beckons. When the realm is rid of all impurity, we shall rise again and become pre-eminent among nations!’
Cairbre sat down to stunned silence, which was immediately broken as the Duke applauded, followed by the entire Council. Errin clapped hands with the rest, but less enthusiastically. Words and phrases flashed in his mind: Lesser peoples. Vermin. Impurity. Taint.
‘Thank you, Sir Cairbre,’ said Okessa. ‘Your stirring words have brought us to the most delicate of matters. As you will know, the King has decreed that all of Nomad blood are to be sent to Gar-aden. I have, on the Duke’s insistence, begun examinations of all families with known Nomad connections. It seems we have two noble families in Mactha with tainted blood.’
Errin’s eyes flickered around the table. Lord Porteron’s face was chalk-white.
‘Sadly, our duty to the King necessitates that these also be sent to Gar-aden,’ Okessa continued.
‘I have always been loyal,’ said Porteron, rising. ‘My family has fought in three wars for the King and the crown.’
‘Your loyalty is not in question, sir,’ said Okessa with a thin smile. ‘And I am sure the King will arrange your speedy return to us.’
‘This is outrageous! Insane!’
‘Be so kind, Porteron,’ said the Duke, ‘as to wait outside. There are men waiting there who will take you to your quarters.’
‘Sir Cairbre!’ shouted Porteron. ‘Surely the King cannot mean to destroy the noble families? The Nomad line in my House goes back to my great-grandfather.’
The Red Knight rose, his eyes cold. ‘Already you have shown the worth of your Nomad blood. A direct order from your Duke to leave has been disobeyed moreover, you have willingly sent to Gar-aden people from your district who have even more tenuous blood links than your own. Had your true blood been in the ascendancy, you would have come to the Duke and confessed. Now get out of my sight.’
Porteron staggered back as if struck and stumbled from the room. Errin had guessed that Porteron was out of favour when he had been instructed not to invite him to the Feast. But this?
‘You mentioned two noble families, Lord Okessa?’ said the young Lord Delaan.
‘It is no one present, sir,’ said Okessa. ‘I refer to the Lady Dianu, whose mother was of Nomad extraction.’
Errin felt his heart hammer in his chest and his hands began to tremble.
‘The Lady Dianu’s mother died in childbirth,’ said Errin. ‘She was from Cithaeron, and there is no record of any Nomad involvement in her blood line.’
‘Sadly that is not the case,’ said Okessa, unable to keep a triumphant grin from his thin lips. ‘She was the daughter of a man named Kial Orday, who was born on the eastern steppes into a Nomad tribe called the Wolves. There is no doubting her tainted line; she has been summoned to Mactha and will be sent to Gar-aden.’
Errin bit back any further argument. ‘My congratulations, Lord Seer. As ever, you have been meticulous in your endeavours.’
‘Meticulous enough, Lord Errin, to have discovered that you planned to marry this woman. Thankfully you are now spared the prospect of coupling with a Nomad whore.’
The words were sent like arrows, but Errin had been expecting something of the like. ‘Indeed, my Lord. I can hardly think of the words to thank you.’ Okessa’s disappointment was obvious and it brought a taunting grin from Errin, who leaned forward holding to the Seer’s gaze. ‘Happily, sir,’ said Errin, ‘there is no doubt as to your bloodline. Your mother was a fine Gabalan of good stock, who plied a trade among the sailors near the docks at Furbolg. I am confident they were all good rabalan sailors, and there was not a Nomad among them.’