Chapter 18

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Gravstein greeted us with the usual gloomy skies and light rain. Elepar said goodbye without going into the courtyard, so I walked down the street to the gate with mixed feelings - it was nice to be back in my own home, and it had been a fun trip, but there would be problems, demands, strange people, and all the other things that go with ancient castles. I can't worry about them. I'll just solve it somehow! Or I'll leave it for the morning. Am I a baron or not? I'll have a feast with my faithful retinue.

Egilbert was waiting for me at the gate, as frowning as everyone else around me.

"Got dag, Mr. Baron."

"Could be a little less formal, mate. Or have we got a problem? Of course, something happened. I hope the castle hasn't been captured yet."

"No, this morning's siege went well. We won again."

"Nice! So what's so bad then?"

"Baron Elig von Custhiv visited the town. Unfortunately, there was an incident..."

We were approaching the main tower, and it was strangely quiet. I wanted to get away from the drizzle from the sky, too. The rain was a mental mockery. I could call upon myself the kitchen duty to be closer to the hot ovens!"

"What kind of incident?'

"Miller, the one who owns the shop at the corner of the castle, took slight offense at the demand made of him, after which he caused the baron to be disrespected by his words and actions... the Baron's indignation. The shopkeeper was detained in accordance with the nobleman's demand. He is now in a cell in the castle prison, as von Custhiv has sentenced the commoner to the proper punishment and placed him in your hands to administer justice."

"Couldn't he do it himself?"

"He took the opportunity to hand over the accused to you." Von Schnitze's voice was strange. "First, the defendant is a Gravsteinian, and second, you, as the eldest of the country's barons, can and must protect the interests of other barons by exercising the right of 'counsel at his word'."

"OK, let's put him on trial, and get an acquittal."

"The trial has already been held by Baron von Kusthiv."

"Then send him for a further hearing so he can be pardoned. Or no, I'll put him on community service for a week. That's the third complaint!"

I threw my bag on the bed with relief and turned to the door. The steward stood with his head still lowered and nervously twitching his cuffs.

"A convicted person can only be pardoned at dawn the next day."

"What? Oh, yes, I seem to recall you saying something like that. Then put the old troublemaker in a cell and let him sit up till morning to think about his anti-social behavior. Don't forget to bring him a pillow and a proper blanket."

"Alexander... Mr. Baron... The sentence under the Truth of Esks shall be carried out before sunset of the same day."

Before sundown... the trial has already taken place. Baron. Commoner. Several pieces of the puzzle clicked together, and the next moment I raked the old man by the collar and hissed in his face:

"Are you suggesting that I execute a man?!"

"That's what the law says... Alexander, I don't know what to do!"

"To hell with those laws!"

"It was adopted by our ancestors."

"To hell with the ancestors too! Let's make an exception!"

"And how long before someone decides it is okay to make an exception for themselves? The law is an internal need, validated by experience and accepted as a rule. The law is what we believe in."

He averted his eyes, but the phrase was too familiar to object. Letting the manager go, I walked over to the window. It was still an hour and a half before sunset. Oh, dear!

"How is that even possible?"

"You see, Alexander, our laws were passed in brief moments of freedom, which were, alas, very rare. And in such moments..."

"You've been pulling away for all the past."

"You could say that." His voice was wistful. "The Righteous Court Act was passed by the Volksraat for a very specific reason when one of the barons was using the support of another invader to overtly abuse his rights."

"And how many people remember him?"

"Perhaps only historians. That period of liberation lasted less than six months, and the only person affected was the person against whom the law was enacted."

"And who's so memorable one?"

"I don't know, Alexander. Will you think of something?"

I was silent. So, one of my townsfolk has been sentenced to death for misunderstanding the political moment. The baron-jerk exercised his right to pass the sentence on to me. Technically he was even right - but the fact that the peaceful, though acrimonious old man would have to be executed was another matter. According to the law, everything is right.

Do I believe that von Kusthiv didn't know what he was doing?

"Where is that bastard?!"

"He left as soon as Sir Ulfric's guards arrived, but he had time to conduct the trial and the procedure of transferring the defendant to the senior baron of the land of Esk in front of witnesses. To you."

"Misbehaved and got away with it, the bastard. Any options for postponing the execution?"

"Alas, I couldn't find it. I called you, perhaps we could have done something in a day, but I couldn't get through."

"I turned my phone off while I was talking to de Nui, and then I just forgot about it. But why did you... at least make a run for him?!"

"We have been waiting for you, Mr. Baron."

"They waited! Fucking waiters..." I ran through the possibilities one more time and asked again without hope: "Is the case registered?"

In the Town Hall and in the Police Station papers.

The only thing left to do was to swear. It was an idiotic situation when the Esks, considered by the people around them to be shallow and, to put it bluntly, a little turned on by customs and laws, trapped themselves in a trap concocted by someone else and justified this opinion. Everything is right. Everything is according to the law. Albeit against common sense. Like the whole thing about secession and bringing back old customs... customs? Customs!

"Right, stop!" I rushed frantically to the cupboard, where I had thrown all the old books and scrolls von Schnitze had applied... there was something here, wasn't there? There must be something! Not in a book, but in these scrolls, which the steward had slipped to me for a better understanding of the spirit of the nation. Did I see something that... this? No... Yes!

"There! It is said that according to custom, the condemned person can recite a prayer while the executioner is preparing, and only when he has finished can the execution be carried out!"

"It's only an indication, not..."

"Silence! I command you - put him under the gallows and let him recite until morning! Don't you dare interrupt his communion with God!"

"Mr. Baron, isn't that too cruel? Miller is too old. He won't last the night. Waiting for death is scarier than death itself..."

I raked him by the collar again:

"Von Schnitzel, if this old scandal, having lived to his grey hairs, has had no loving children, no respectful pupils, no reliable neighbors who can care him through to his proper term, then what the hell do I need a subject like that for!"

"Do you mean they can?"

"You know what my favorite anecdote is? When a man asked the genie for a few trifles and when asked why he didn't choose money, might, or wisdom, he replied: So, could I?"

"I got it, Mr. Baron!"

"Then run! By the time they put the noose around his neck, everyone should know what's going on! And don't let the tourists get too close. It's only our business!"

"Yes, Mr. Baron!"

I read the protocol of the trial one more time, with the Baron's beautiful, curly signature and his name speaking for himself. I knew Miller, a scandalous old man. He had even complained to me about something when I met him. But calling names and throwing stones? How could he have been driven to it?

I was torn apart by conflicting desires. I wanted to go, to find the scum that had set me up. I wanted to punch all the locals in the face so that they would wake up and stop living with idiotic ideas about the world, I wanted to sit in a corner and ask God why he had done this to me, but that was all for later. First.... what first? The armory!

I left the faithful mace unattended, going straight to the rack of swords and searching for the right one. Wrong, wrong again... this, maybe? Turning the katzbalger around, I shoved it back in, blunt as hell. Finally, some luck with one of the sabers. Apparently, it was a real weapon because of its unsightliness it had remained in the rack rather than being sold by the former barons. It was long, curved, with a simple hilt without any ornamentation, but even now, it was sharp. Could it cut through the rope in case of trouble? All right, we'll sharpen it.

He sent the servant at the door to the castle workshop and quickly changed into the boyar's dress uniform. If you are going to break a few laws, you should prepare accordingly!

When I opened the door to the courtyard, I almost dove back in - dozens of people, townspeople, castle dwellers, police officers in uniform, town hall staff in national costumes - hundreds of people filled the entire castle courtyard. And they were all looking at me.

In a month, they had all become accustomed to living by the rules of the Middle Ages, but this was a turn they had not expected. The baron-foreigner, the accused and condemned countryman, the gloomy sky, the drizzle of the occasional lulling rain; welcome to the Dark Ages, where human life was worthless!

As if anything has changed since then, though?

I went through the crowd to the steps of the scaffold without looking at the waiting faces. The condemned man, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders, was staring blankly away from me. In the corner, an unfamiliar-looking brat was looking about mockingly, wearing a national dress but with variations; he had high, narrow boots instead of wooden boots. A representative of the prosecution, apparently.

Coughing, which in the silence of the hundreds of silent waiting figures sounded particularly loud, I turned to the old man:

"Mr. Miller, you have been accused by Baron von Kusthiv of insulting his dignity and violating his birthright, and by the laws now in force, you have been sentenced to death. Calling on the right of the elder Baron Elig von Kusthiv has placed you in my hands to see that justice is done. Is there anything you can do to justify your behavior?"

"I... Baron, the bastard started molesting my granddaughter! I couldn't stand it!"

"It wasn't like that! Ellie just complimented the girl a couple of times. Nobody touched her! And the old man jumped on us, even though we could have stayed at his house. It's the law!" The big man in the corner spoke with a pleased grin, and it was clear that he was not clever, which was why he had been left behind. However, that was not the only reason. "Everything was fair: the trial, the verdict, and the transfer. Yours, you hang him. You are too spoilt. You do not observe the right laws!"

"Von Schnitze?"

"Unfortunately, Baron von Kusthiv was in the right." The steward climbed up onto the platform and stood beside him. "In the laws of the Esks there is a reference to the right of lodging, according to which barons, while on the road, may stay in any house, if necessary, but for no more than one night and one day."

"I see. Well, I can only pardon, according to Truth, tomorrow. Mr. Müller, are you a believer?"

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Baptised, Mr. Baron."

"All right, you can pray before the execution." I looked back at the smiling big man, and he was suddenly wary. "Put him in the cell. I don't like him. We'll judge him in the morning."

"What?!" But he was already being dragged to the door to the dungeons, with kicks on the way. I caught a glimpse of him and watched Fisk placing a sturdy stool under the hinge and helping the prisoner up. The scaffold was wide enough, about five meters across so that even with a few people standing on it the surrounding people could see everything clearly. It was a tourist attraction - a gallows! Anyone could try the role of the condemned man...

The silence in the gathering dusk was interspersed with the sounds of everyday life. A cow was mooing in the barn. Something was clanking in the tower, and a car drove past the gate. Someone coughed, and a wave of coughs went through the yard.

We stood in silence, waiting for the signal, and finally, Eggie peeked out of the window, showing the clock:

"Sunset!"

The guard put a noose around the neck of the man standing on the stool, and the execution formally began. I nodded reassuringly to Miller and ordered:

"Begin!"

The pale but upright old man sighed and began:

"Pater noster qui est in purpose..."

A man of the same stout, red-faced build, with only less grey in his mustache, walked past me and stood beside the old man. The husband of his eldest daughter, who had arrived from the capital of the federation an hour before, was slightly taken aback by what was happening but stood and carefully held his father-in-law under his elbow. So far his help was not required, but... the octogenarian would not stay in one place all night without help. Or would he?

I turned away, walked through the still-parting crowd to a chair in the courtyard, and, sinking heavily into the chair, placed my sword in my lap. There was silence in the court, and dozens of people standing around silently stared now at the scaffold, now at me. Look, look. You could have stopped the trial, you could have hidden the criminal from the 'evil me' by turning him in the morning, you could have imagined anything - but you waited! Look now.

I touched the sharpening stone to the edge and held it out. Now the sound of the blade being sharpened was woven into the words of the prayer.

There were ten paces of empty space between me and the nearest townsfolk, and for some reason, no one risked entering the exclusion zone. There was me and there was them. Authority and subjects. Perhaps it is right, authority is always perceived as something alien. It is always easier for people to tolerate an alien ruler. It does not matter whether a stranger is by blood or spirit - the main thing is not to be one's own, then it is somehow easier. I'm just a perfect match.

And they demonstrate this to me so clearly.

I don't know if the steward had to muster up the courage to enter this circle of emptiness, but he soon came up to me and after a minute stood there and began to console me:

"Alexander, you must not blame yourself. According to the Truth of Esks, a nobleman must root out evil where he sees it. Miller is not your vassal, which means the visiting baron had the right to pass a sentence on him. And to pass the right of execution to you, the oldest baron in the land. By insulting one baron, Miller has thus insulted all and every nob..."

"Fuck such nobility."

"This is the reality of the past, the way our ancestors lived. By the way, it's pretty much the same now."

"Egilbert, stop looking for excuses. Tell me better - if I had overturned the sentence, how would it have affected my status as an "elder"?"

"It would cast doubt at the very least." The old man answered without hesitation and nodded to himself: "But von Kusthiv cannot claim the title anyway. Next up is Ewald von Welleschwarm. Do you think they are in cahoots?"

"I don't think anything anymore, Egilbert. I'm waiting for the morning."

Von Schnitze sulked as he began to fumble with his cuffs again, then resolved and coughed:

"I'm afraid, Alexander... Mr. Baron, I haven't been entirely honest with you. You see, you can't sell the castle."

"Tell me something I don't know, Egilbert."

"Oh, is that so? I thought..."

The old man fell silent.

"What you thought is your business, and I checked that possibility on the first night. The Majorat is not transferable. It's strange that the castle is for sale."

"The castle was bequeathed to me as a mediator so that I could find a new, worthy owner for it. I wanted to put it in the hands of some rich man first, but everyone who wanted a title, and didn't want to spend money on renovating the castle. And I love Gravstein too much to give it to such a person."

"I knew there was something fishy going on."

"I would have given you your money back, just like the others. But I had to find a new baron as quickly as possible, and you, Alexander... made quite an impression on the solicitor. He's a local, and he also cared about the castle, so he thought you'd be a good fit."

"A young fool who doesn't know a damn thing about local realities, who genuinely thinks he's only buying a piece of paper, and who wouldn't think of going to check?"

"And who immediately wrote the paper allowing me to do exactly what I wanted to do."

"What about the reports?"

"I know foreign languages so bad that I might have written the address wrong when I sent them."

"It's all a lie."

"Excuse me, Alexander. The fate of the castle... is too important to me."

"I'm not offended, Egilbert. What about you? You could become a baron and do all the same things."

"How could I, Alexander? The von Schnitze family are hereditary stewards, not owners!" He even straightened slightly in indignation. However, the impulse immediately faded. "The children didn't want to stay here. Only the youngest had been brought up in the spirit of the Oldtimers, the others..." He sighed. "A barony needs a master, and I couldn't do that. You were better at it."

My grim look of twenty-three years of 'failing' esk didn't notice.

With another apologetic shrug, the old man stood up, adjusted his waistcoat like a uniform, and walked off with his hands behind his back. He did not look back at the scaffold.

Coughing, attracting attention, Sato stooped to his right, kneeling and bowing in a completely Oriental fashion without straightening up:

"I have a confession to make, Mr. Baron."

"In what?"

"I tricked my way into the castle!" The boy was clearly worried but very oriental: tense, straightened, only his fists on his knees clenched.

"Is that so?"

"I am not a descendant of samurai, my family is tradesmen."

"Yeah? So what?"

"I took someone else's place, the place of someone who could have helped you!"

"Yeah, right. Although... I've heard that in Japan they teach swordsmanship in schools. How do you think you can cut a rope on the first try?"

The boy looked at the saber outstretched to him with a strange expression, as if dreaming of grabbing it, then twitched, looked back at the gallows, and shook his head:

"Forgive me, sir. I..." he fell silent and then continued, carefully concealing his feelings, "I am not a real samurai, I only pretend to be one, and therefore I am not worthy to take up arms. I've been training since Junior High, but... maybe I should have joined a volleyball club, as my friends said. Seven years of lessons, and I'm not sure I can do it. I'm afraid of letting you down. Forgive me!" And he bent over in half again.

So what can I say?

"You know, Sato, I'm not sure I can cut the rope on the first try, either. And I'm not sure I'm a good baron. And that I'm good at teaching you. But even though I'm doubtful, I'm still sharpening my sword. Someone of your countrymen said: "If you only need a sword once..."

"You have to carry it all your life."

"Otherwise, this could be the last time. Okay, for me, but when other people's lives depend on you, there is no time for doubts. If you have to do it, do it."

He turned his head and looked at the condemned man for a long time. Miller was beginning to tire, pausing in prayer, leaning on the shoulder of the next man who approached in earnest.

"If I cut the rope, your honor will be hurt."

"Well, roughly speaking, all that would be questioned is my status as the eldest of the barons of the land of Esk and the right to judge their disputes. But like hell, I'd trade a dubious right for the life of one of those who depend on me. Fuck this "honorary title", Sato. I can live without it."

"I'm not ready. I don't dare... I'm sorry!"

"Ready or not, it's up to you to decide. You've been handling weapons more than any of the squires, and I'm sure your sword is sharp enough. And since you say you know a bit about swordsmanship, I'd feel safer if you stood there, at the edge of the platform, ready to back me up a bit."

"I... - the boy lowered his head again. "You are too kind, sir! I am not worthy of your trust!"

Ah, such youth and its antics. He must have slipped Katzman the money, blushing and sweating, and now he waits every night to be exposed. And then there's that damn execution.

"Really? Well, if you're looking at it that way, of course." Squire lowered his head even further. "But let's not forget that there are other ways to look at it. Sir Ulfric has remarked that you are the most dutiful and obliging of the squires. Sir Erraine has gladly accepted your considerations for some sort of festival." I held up my hand, stopping the boy's retching. "Yes, I know you all came up with it together somehow. But if the other squires only laughed, you decided to actually suggest it and insisted. Eggie keeps begging me to send you to him, saying you can make any technique work."

"My father owns a repair and tuning company... I've been handling appliances since I was a kid."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. And the tourists are happy with you, and the old steward, even Isabel was complimentary. So basically, you have what it takes to... to be, if not a knight, then a worthy squire. Knowledge, diligence, reliability. You happen to have a sword. You just need to take that last step."

"Which one?" He looked at me as if preparing to make that very move. It was a shame to cut such an impulse short.

"How should I know? I can show you the ways. You have to choose for yourself."

We were silent. The Japanese were drawing something with his finger on his knee, and I was still using the sharpener on the steel.

"I am guilty, Sir."

"So what else?"

"The castle was under siege, and I was alone in using provisions without sharing them with others."

"So you're the one who ate the sägdimirl?"

He bowed and took the time to straighten up. What a fool, how he likes to be guilty of something! He wants to commit hara-kiri here, to make up for it!

"All right, I admit your guilt. And I sentence you to eat all the leftovers!"

"A-Ah..."

"It seems that only you are capable of eating this crap anyway. Even the locals have started complaining that tourists are throwing this "exotic delicacy" all over town, stinking up the place. Do you really like it?"

"Very similar to what we do at home."

"Yes - the sea too, lots of seaweed and shells and no decent food. Stop worrying. We've got work to do. Get over to Eggie's, and check on the cars. We'll have to make a trip in the morning. We should be all set. Then stand with your sword on the platform."

"Hai!" He broke into another bow and snapped sharply. What a kid, and he's nineteen, isn't he? He is a boy. The cockroaches in his head are big and loose, so he gets carried away from time to time.

"Sir Baron?"

"Norman? Decided to confess something too?"

"What? Oh, no, I just wanted to ask..."

He didn't have time to finish. In the silence of the castle courtyard, filled with dozens of people waiting patiently, the sound made everyone freeze, though there was nothing so scary about it. It was just the cracking and creaking of wood breaking away. And immediately an involuntary sigh from the multitude of witnesses who turned to the scaffold: Miller stood swaying, and beside him froze in horror an elderly woman, either daughter or daughter-in-law, completely unprepared for such a turn - the old man, clutched in the noose with both hands, fumbled with one foot in the air, under the other a stool crumbled, from which pieces were chipping with an eerie slowness.

There was a passageway to the scaffold in front of me, and suddenly there was a mass of townsfolk jerking and obstructing my way. I could only shake them off with my sword above my head and watch as the leg of the stool split in half and fell off. Mayor was the cleverest of them all; while I was trying to find a way to jump on the scaffold and cut the rope without hurting anyone, Sir Erraine stepped to the wheezing convict and put his arms around him, and lifted him. The old man was no lightweight, having gained weight over the years, so something had to be thought of quickly. Set up a new stool? Damn, cursed laws and thrice cursed conventions, the execution could not be interrupted, not like this...

"Smartass, take a knee next to him!"

The cleverest of my squires nodded as he jumped, dropping down beside the patiently held knight and pulling his twitching leg toward him. Miller found his footing and pressed the weight of his body against the knee. Elil gritted his teeth but endured.

"Standing! Here we go!"

"Dan, help him!"

"Yes, my lord!" The Texan collapsed at the feet of the executed man, forcibly grabbing the other leg and placing it on his knee. Miller, still held by Sir Erryn, cautiously crouched down and even found the strength to remove one hand from the noose, clutching at some townsman's shoulder. The woman standing beside him sobbed helplessly, her mouth covered with the palm of her hand.

I caught my breath, wiped my sweaty forehead, and looked up at the sky. It was a long way to dawn, but the executioner was standing more or less firmly. Someone had angrily shoved the wreckage of the stool to the ground, and big Fisk shrank back miserably, though no one had said anything to him. I'd have to reprimand him and calm him down before he started blaming himself.

"Erdar, you bastard! Why didn't you check your inventory?"

"My Lord, I..."

"Silence! Two weeks with no wine ration!"

"Yes, Sir Baron. I..."

"Never mind, don't do that again in the future. Smartass, Dan, how are you?"

"He's standing fine. Add someone else under his arm."

"Alex."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Sir Erraine, line up a shift, ten minutes per man. Selection by height and weight."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Miller, a prayer, for fuck's sake!"

"Pater noster... qui es... in celis..."

Sir Ulfric was angrily tearing a twig. He had nothing to do, there was no mess, and with his sparrow build, he could not stand up near executed man. So, what to occupy him with?

"Guards to clear the aisles to the platform. You stack up like sheep!"

"Yes!" The policeman was immediately relieved, ordering the diverging Gravsteins away in an orderly fashion.

Once again, I looked around the courtyard, returned to my chair, took my saber, and sharpened it. Look, good townsfolk, your superiors are calm and busy, which means everything is going as it should. Even if I want to kick you for your idiocy! Ah, you good and kind people, who lawfully, at the word of a scoundrel, sent one of your neighbors to his death, what are you doing? Though, what do I know about you? What does anyone ever know about another human being?

My squires - who are they? Well, they're young, sensible guys. They've had an easy qualification in the competition, live together, make fun of the only girl on the team

Why have I noticed Sato standing and looking at the kitchen door several times? He's only drawn there when I send Marty out to practice throwing. So there's something between them?

Smartass, chubby, and always deliberately setting himself up for stupid situations - why does he do that?

Norman, the older of them, is already a practicing doctor. Why would he need "squire training"? Dan and Robert had become friends lately, going everywhere together, but they hadn't exchanged a word all night - why? Marty - why is she like that? Teenage dope or something serious in the past? Egilbert, seemingly the personification of common sense - how did he allow this idiotic situation to happen?

Eggie, Fisk, Magda - constantly around, constantly in sight, and all as, if you think about it, unfamiliar as they were a month ago.

I once had an acquaintance, who found herself working as a cashier in a supermarket, and she found it fun to "forget" to punch in a purchase and "gift" it to a customer. The point of the game was to guess who would return the excess and who would keep it, and she succeeded once in a hundred or so. Neither appearance, age, nor the value of the purchase gave a clear result. Two years later, she became the director of the shop, so the game was different - guess which cashier was playing such a game. Well, there are fewer surprises, of course. Although, surprises do happen.

Humans, they're interesting animals. Weird.

The grinder smoothed the steel, whispering something unpleasant, the cold of night crept under his cloak, torches crackled, a generator buzzed, sounds came from the outbuildings, and every ten minutes mayor gave a low command, changing the men standing by the gallows.

The townspeople were silent.

At one moment, I checked the blade and realized there was no point in sharpening further, but I kept the stone moving anyway to keep my hands busy. In the darkness of the castle courtyard, surrounded by high walls, it was impossible to see the horizon, so I jerked nervously when, at the same time, an alert rang out on the phones of dozens of people crowding around, and a shout came from the top of the donjon:

"Sunrise!"

"Great. Get the decree over here! Take him down!"

While the finally exhausted "criminal" was being removed from the scaffold, Egilbert quickly slipped me a paper, and with five strokes of my pen, I signed the pardon, as well as abolishing all laws within the barony, implying the death penalty. You should have done it sooner, you fool!

"Sato! Are the cars ready?"

"Yes, my lord!"

"Where are you going, Alexander?"

"To visit someone! You've got too many barons here, we've got to reduce the number of such animals!"

I gripped my saber and rushed to the gate.

* * *

I witnessed a very beautiful ritual in Gravstein. Impressive, it reeked of antiquity! I didn't quite understand what was going on, everyone was too busy to explain, and I couldn't get close enough, but I hope the ritual will be repeated soon - very enthralling, very much so!

from the blog, #travel, #beautiful