The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [91]
“Oh ye gods.” Nevyn felt as if he’d been slapped awake. “I should have realized! After all these years of war—”
“Precisely, and it was the territory around Dun Deverry that bore the worst of the fighting. I mean, by the Lord of Hell’s balls, look at the city! Well, the royal farmlands are in much the same condition.”
“But we’ve passed prosperous—looking—”
“Those all belong to the priesthood of Bel.” Oggyn paused, scowling within his black beard. “No one was going to risk the wrath of the gods by overrunning them, were they? Over the years the Boars wangled plenty of favors from the priests, and their rewards always came out of the king’s lands, not theirs.”
Nevyn swore like a silver dagger about the personal habits of the Boar clan. Oggyn nodded in vigorous approval.
“We’ve been wondering, you and I,” Oggyn went on, “just how the Boars got such an upper hand over the kings. Well, now we know. The kings needed them, Nevyn, needed them desperately. By the end, the royal house couldn’t have been able to raise and feed more than a hundred men from their own holdings.”
Nevyn found he couldn’t even swear. Oggyn mopped his head one last time and stuffed the rag back into his pocket.
“Have you spoken to our liege about this?” Nevyn said at last.
“I’ve not. I wanted to consult with you first. You’re the man who knows the priests. I was wondering, is there any chance they’d turn some of that land back over to the royal line?”
“On the same day that horses sprout wings and fly.”
“I feared that, truly. Ah ye gods, I don’t know what we’re going to do! Our prince is going to be at the mercy of his vassals now, just like Olaen was. Whoever holds the Cerrmor rhan is going to hold a knife at Maryn’s throat.”
For some while they sat without speaking, watching the candle-thrown shadows dance over the walls. Nevyn could see all his schemes, his hopes, his long campaign to end the wars crumble like a lump of sand on the Cerrmor beach, washed out on a tide of ambition and arrogance. The ocean, indeed, and all those merchant taxes and dues that had made Cerrmor and its gwerbret both rich—
“Oh ye gods!” Nevyn said. “I’ve got an idea.”
“I don’t,” Oggyn said gloomily. “I know my place, my lord. I can see the little things, how they lie close at hand, but the long view escapes me.”
Only then did Nevyn realize how frightened Oggyn truly was, that he’d be so honest to a man he saw as a rival.
“Well, this may not work,” Nevyn said. “But what if Cerrmor and its attendant lands remained in the prince’s control?”
“It would save the entire situation. He’d have eight hundred riders of his own and the contingent of spearmen as well, though truly, I think me the town will balk at such a large levy once the wars are done.”
“What if the levy made them a free city for a hundred years and a day?”
Oggyn’s smile shone like the sun through storm clouds.
“I thought so,” Nevyn went on. “Now listen, I don’t know if we can bring this off, but if we can, it will catch a pair of rabbits in one snare. Maryn will be free of the burden of apportioning the rhan to someone, thereby disappointing everyone else, and he’ll have troops sworn to him alone. The taxes due him from the merchant trade will support those riders, while the town can easily outfit the spearmen from what they save in gwerbretal dues and have a good bit left over.”
Oggyn nodded and went on smiling.
“First things first,” Nevyn said. “You’re an important man in Cerrmor. Can you get the town council to agree to such a scheme?”
“My dear Nevyn, an idiot child could get the council to agree to this! They’ll be free of one entire set of taxes and so will their children and grandchildren. There’s going to be grumbling from the noble-born, though.”
“Grumbling is a mild word for it. Especially the circle around Gauryc. I don’t want them pulling out of the alliance.”
“I was worrying about them, truly. Gauryc