Roger Taylor - Whistler

In reality there was little or no such pressure. Those who read of the affair responded in many ways, ranging from indifference to genuine concern and sympathy, but few pestered their Heinders to take any kind of action. And, it could not be denied, such sympathy as was felt was tempered by the fact that the two men, ‘had been drinking, after all…’ with all that that implied. Retribution for one’s sins was a strong element in Ishrythan. However, folly begets folly, and in responding to something that was not in reality there, the Heindral succeeded in creating a genuine crisis for itself.

The term of the government was well into its second half and thoughts were already beginning to turn toward the next Acclamation when the Tirfelden incident occurred. Thus, as in the Tirfelden Congress, the matter became an opportunity to jockey for position in the eyes of the voting public. The party in power, the Castellans, unexpectedly mooted the idea of expelling any Felden currently resident in Canol Madreth and seizing Felden assets. This was a bold gesture, delivered with great panache, and would undoubtedly resound well when the voters were being wooed in due course. It was put forward however, only in the fairly certain knowledge that the other two parties would, for once, unite and vote against it. And indeed the main opposition party, the Ploughers, played their part admirably, speaking in powerful but calmly measured tones, and dwelling on the outrage that ‘they too’ felt about the fate of ‘this highly respected merchant’. However, scared senseless at what they thought the Castellans wanted to do, they suggested that a ‘more effective and even-handed measure’ would be to refrain from trading with Tirfelden, on the grounds that the Felden needed timber more than the Madren needed iron. For a while there was some robust debating, the Castellans being pilloried as dictatorial and even war-mongering, while the Ploughers were labelled as naive appeasers and cowards and quite indifferent to the fate of the people who worked in the forestry trade. Then the leader of the third and smallest party began to speak.

The Witness Party had been the smallest for many decades now, and such power as it had wielded from time to time had been dependent on how nearly equal the other two parties were. Unlikely ever to hold real power in the near future, it had the privilege of advocating outrageous ideas, but it knew its place and would not resort to anything foolish when matters of importance were being discussed. What was special about the Witness Party was its religious element. Unique amongst the parties it actually had Preaching Brothers in its ranks, and it would unrepentantly point out the moral and religious aspects of any subject being debated. Its speakers were often greeted with heartfelt sighs of dismay as they rose.

Now there was an affectedly respectful silence as Toom Drommel stood up to outline his party’s view. Expectation filled the chamber – expectation that Drommel would castigate the Castellans for their belligerent proposal, with its appalling disregard for basic justice in seeking to punish Felden citizens who, quite patently, had had nothing to do with the murder of the merchant and were entitled to look to the Madren authorities for protection not persecution. He would then turn on the Ploughers to reproach them for their economic naivety in imagining that loss of trade with Canol Madreth would make any material impression on Tirfelden. Finally, he would conclude that his party would vote against both suggestions, thereby releasing both parties from the need to do anything without seriously undermining his own party’s standing. The matter would then drift out of the public limelight and be sorted out by officials from the respective governments.

Quite unexpectedly however, Toom simply said, ‘We shall support the Castellans in their proposal,’ and then sat down.

For a moment it seemed that the Castellans were about to lose their leader as he turned first red then purple, but somehow he survived the blow and was on his feet in seconds.

So was everyone else.

Privv, high in the spectators’ gallery, rubbed his hands gleefully. He knew quite a few Felden and he could see stories developing that would last him for weeks – and make him quite a lot of money in the process. He saw what the Ploughers and the Castellans had failed to see, namely that while Toom Drommel and his party had no great desire to be associated with either the economic ineptitude of the Ploughers, or the strutting posturing of the Castellans, they also had no desire to be seen as a party that could not make up its mind, or take a stern stand where the safety of Madren citizens was at stake. They had therefore decided to call the Castellans’ bluff. For in supporting them, the Witness Party would appear to be strong and resolute in the defence of their country’s citizens abroad – a very useful attribute to be displaying during the approach to an Acclamation, while at the same time showing the Castellans to be weak and uncertain. For there was no way in which the Castellans could implement their proposals without causing a major rift with Tirfelden… a much larger and wealthier nation.

Privv waited for the inevitable outcome. When the uproar subsided, the leader of the Castellans would end the debate without a vote and scurry off to a panic-stricken meeting with his party officers to try to find some way of extricating himself from this problem without the retreat being too public or too humiliating.

Toom Drommel sat with his arms folded, quietly smiling to himself, and Privv observed him intently. He had misjudged this man. He had always regarded him as another bigoted pain in the neck, but there was obviously much more to him than met the eye. He had judged the Castellans’ complacency and political carelessness to a nicety and had done them no small amount of harm with his brief statement. He had also done his own party a great deal of good. As he watched the man, sitting motionless amid the hubbub, it dawned on Privv that Toom Drommel was a force to be reckoned with. And he really was going to push his party forward at the next Acclamation. Interesting times were coming, Privv thought to himself. Interesting times.

The church’s only declared interest in the affair of the slaughtered merchant was one of simple compassion for the man’s family. It had, of course, a permanent and considerable interest in all political developments, but it was discreet, not to say meticulous, in ensuring that it was seen to be above any petty power chasing, and in this case it confined itself to watching and weighing events.

Apart from taking due note of happenings in the Heindral and dealing with routine church business, two other topics were occupying the attention of Mueran and his staff at the Witness House. One was the change that had come over Cassraw, and the other was the change that had come over Vredech. Where before, the mention of Cassraw’s name had brought a weary frown to Mueran’s brow as he braced himself for yet more complaints from the Haven flock, or another diatribe on the Santyth from the man himself, it now brought a pleasant smile. Complaints had changed to compliments. Since his strange ‘attack’, Cassraw seemed to have become a different and much more amenable person, and he was proving himself to be a worthy incumbent for the Haven Parish. He had seemingly set aside his growing obsession with the minutiae of the Santyth and was throwing himself wholeheartedly into his pastoral work, moving around tirelessly, helping and advising members of his flock, talking to them, listening to them, whatever the circumstances required. And his preaching was becoming almost legendary. Attendances at his Meeting House were higher than they had ever been, as backsliding church members returned to the fold and people travelled from other parishes to listen to him. He had even established a special organization to look after the needs of a group of troublesome youths who had been the bane of the area for some time. Mueran had some reservations about the name that had been chosen for this organization – the Knights of Ishryth – but Cassraw had laughingly reassured him. ‘You know what young men are like. They have to look manly – if only in their own eyes. I doubt I’d have been able to catch their attention with a name like the Haven Parish Group for Santyth Appreciation.’ Then, a hand on Mueran’s shoulder – firm and full of good-natured resolution – ‘You needn’t fret. They’re a little wild, but they’re all good lads at heart, and better we keep them occupied than leave them to their own devices.’