 |
| "What are your intentions here, sir?" she asked. |
The next morning, the sun rose to reveal a second clan—in
the middle of the midnight revelry so common among the uncouth merchants—dead
around their tables, some even with food and drink still clutched in their
stiff, cold hands.
Once again, Melanie stood at her bedroom window, asked,
"Aslan, do you walk tonight?" and heard him reply, "I
walk."
That night, a third clan was driven out of town by unseen
visions. Village gossip reported hearing strange wailings coming from the clan
about vengeful farmers plowing them like weeds, and weavers unraveling the
tents, to destroy them.
Melanie received these reports from various servants. She
smiled each time. Three gone, four to go, she thought. At this rate, we could
reopen the marketplace by next week!
True to pattern, over the next two days, as Melanie sought
Aslan in the night, two clans departed, badly frightened. The second night, a
terrible cry went up among the tribe, something nearly unintelligible about a
"great animal" that terrified them all. Melanie stuck the bell next
to her throne. A servant appeared.
"Tell Pareshin we may be able to reopen the market by
the weekend."
The servant grinned. He anticipated a celebratory free day
in the marketplace to satisfy his desires. But ... he worried that there would
be no merchants left once the marketplace reopened.
The messenger forgot his worries as he entered the tent where Captain Pareshin and his guards slept between rotations. The captain looked exhausted. The servant was glad to give him good news. "Her Ladyship says that we may be able to reopen the marketplace by the weekend."
Captain Pareshin nodded. Somehow, this young foreigner had
managed to accomplish in her first week what the Lords of Nast had spent
generations attempting.
"It is good," he replied heavily. "My men are
wasted, even with the rotations. There are too many alleys and not enough men.
But something seems to happen every night. We will wait for the end of the
week, in two days."
The servant left the tent, glancing over his shoulder just
in time to see one solder relieve another. Neither appeared very alert. Poor
souls! The way the rotation had to be set, each soldier only had a few hours to
sleep before he needed to relieve a compatriot, if he had slept at all. The
servant was glad their suffering would end soon.
That night . . . nothing happened. Two merchant clans still
remained.
Melanie wondered at this, but did not fret over it. She
considered herself too busy with plans of reforming Nast. […] Such was her
concentration on these plans and memories that, for the first time in a week,
Melanie forgot to ask Aslan if he would walk. Still, she waited with growing
expectation for him to act.
But no dramatic rousting occurred. The next day came and
went but the two groups remained, laughing and carousing as if they had
outwitted the curses and spirits that had driven away the others.
>>>>>>>
[To read the full chapter click -->HERE<--]
[To read the full chapter click -->HERE<--]
[Excerpt from Chapter 7]
Melanie, watching from her window, heard all and leaned
back, satisfied. Someone behind her cleared his throat. She turned to behold a
pageboy. "Yes, what is it?" she asked.
"Please, Milady, there is a guild just come, and their
leader seeks an audience with Your Ladyship."
Intrigued, Melanie replied, "Take me to them." She
followed the young boy down to the courtyard, where stood the sorriest-looking
guild she had yet seen.
Their hair was unkempt, the people and animals painfully
thin, and one of the many-times-broken-and-ill-repaired wagons smelt awfully of
rotten foods. One of the men, a gaunt, spectral figure whose clothes—once
undoubtedly fine silks and material as would befit a merchant—hung in dirty
tatters from his haggard frame, stood away from the rest and knelt before
Melanie.
"Hail thou, Lady of Nast!" he said in a weary
voice, as one physically spent, "May your province flourish under your
rule!"
Melanie blushed at the praise, yet looked squarely into the
man's sunken, glassy eyes. "What are your intentions here, sir?" she
asked.
The man stood, but kept a humble, respectful posture.
"If it please your Ladyship, I am but a merchant, Galor by name, who
desires for the present nothing more than to rest after the long journey we
have made, perhaps restock our supply in the market over a few days, after
which we—with your Ladyship's permission—would do what we could to contribute
to the economy, and conduct business out of only a small corner."
An alarm went off in Melanie's mind at the words conduct
business. "I have just issued a formal proclamation and closed the
marketplace. I intend to make an end to all you merchants coming in, buying at
a pittance, and selling at exorbitant rates, effectually robbing from
already-poor citizens. I am afraid you have come too late."
Galor's face fell so low, Melanie wondered if he would
collapse in the dirt at her feet. "Oh, your Ladyship! Please do not send
us away! We come from afar, in Ettinsmoor, and we have traveled through
dangerous lands in Narnia and Archenland to reach this land, with only the
intentions of enriching the commerce. As you can see, we have allowed our
health, our food, and our clothes to spoil, but we have taken great pains to
preserve our wares for the use of your people! If you send us away, oh merciful
Lady, I fear we will not survive the return expedition." His tone was
pleading, pathetic, and sincere. Melanie even thought she saw tears in his
eyes. She did not doubt his word, yet she knew she must remain firm, in case
Aslan should return and find her disobeying orders!
She replied to Galor, "Very well, then; I will see to
it that my servants give you fresh food and clothing, and you may sojourn a few
days in one of the apartments recently vacated by the previous merchants.
During this time I will consider your request. Once you and your clan are
rested and satisfied, you may come before me, and we will discuss the matter
further."
Galor smiled gratefully. "Oh thank you, Milady! How
generous you are!" he gestured back to the company with him,
"Hail!" he cried, bowing low. "Hail!" they echoed,
following his lead. The girl hid the blush of her embarrassment by merely
nodding and retiring into the castle.
"Milady," Pareshin called. She faced him.
"You handled that very well, in my opinion, ma'am." He nodded
respectfully before heading to the infirmary to have his wounds tended.
Melanie sighed. It wasn't handled! All she'd done was stall
for more time, with no idea what on earth she would do when Galor and his clan
were restored, and not even the slightest hint of Aslan's return. Melanie never
bothered asking if he'd walk any more. She wondered if he intended to return at
all.
>>>>>>>
No comments:
Post a Comment