Armathain Stronghold is a two or three part (I haven’t decided yet) story about two noblemen who are enemies as were there relations. This is a fued with a long history and with war always simmering over the fire. And it’s over a fire that war may once again confront House Armathain and House Portmas.
Siege of Armathain Stronghold, Part I
“Why does Lord Gerard send two cumber-worlds and not come himself to discuss this matter?” Lord Hughoc indignantly asked.
“Lord Gerard is very busy with the harvest,” said one of his Bannermen, Lord Guymar. “But he sends his greetings.”
“Don’t placate me with insincere pleasantries,” shot back Hughoc. “I’m not in the mood for it.”
“Begging your forgiveness, Lord Hughoc. I meant no offense by it.”
Hughoc let out a grunt and eyed Guymar with suspicion. Hughoc and Gerard had been enemies from the start, as had their relations before them. The only talks they’ve had were at the ends of pikes and swords. Sending two Bannermen was an insult by anyone’s standard.
The far end of the Great Hall at Armathain Stronghold was noisy. The day’s chores and duties were underway, and people were shuffling in and out of the extensive building. Wonderful smells hung in the air as the bakers prepared their secrets for the day and night. Roasted meats were being cooked, including wild hog this day.
“Does your friend speak?” said Hughoc.
“This is Lord Triston,” said Guymar.
“Yes, I know who it is and what his reputation is. Does he talk?”
The two Bannermen laughed nervously before Triston spoke. “Lord Hughoc, I didn’t know I had a reputation.”
Hughoc rolled his eyes before taking his guest to task. “Your word means nothing amongst the other lords in service to our king. I’m wondering if there is anyone you haven’t cheated yet.”
“Lord Hughoc, I must protest your harsh words.”
“Where there is much smoke, somewhere a fire doth exist.”
After the bruising insult, the conversation lulled for a moment. Both bannermen looked at themselves and undoubtedly wondered how to proceed with the news they were sent to share. Hughoc looked at both with a sense of amusement and disdain.
“Do you truly have a message for me, or did you come here seeking to waste my day?”
“We have a message from Lord Gerard,” said Guymar, reaching into his coat. He produced a parchment wrapped by a red ribbon and sealed with Gerard’s signet. “Here.”
Hughoc reached for the letter and examined it before smirking and opening the parchment.
To the most noble, Lord Hughoc at Armathain Stronghold,
I pray the gods keep you and watch over you.
There has been a fire in the vineyards at Warcton Castle. The fire devastated this year’s harvest.
But the bad news does not end there. Witnesses say they’ve seen your men in the village near the vineyard prior to the fire. One of your men was overheard saying he wished to “burn it all down in the name of Armathain.” And, as you know, there have been threats made against House Portmas by you and those loyal to you.
I expect to be compensated for the substantial loss of revenue this harvest would’ve produced. I hope we can resolve this matter in a timely fashion. It would be a travesty of justice for you, Lord Hughoc, not to entertain my claim seriously and with due haste.
I beseech you to respond with a letter that my bannermen may return with.
With utmost respect,
Lord Gerard of Warcton
Gosa, the Month of Triumphs, in the Spider’s year, 1029
Hughoc held the parchment in his hand and stared at his visitors. “Do you two know what’s in this letter?”
Triston, still stinging from his rebuke, allowed Guymar to respond. “No, my Lord, we don’t.”
“It appears there was a fire that burned the vineyards at Warcton.”
“Yes, there was.”
The two bannermen braced for what was next. “Your lord blames me for setting that fire. Did you know that?”
Triston got caught in the crosshairs of Hughoc’s building anger. “We heard rumors of such a thing.”
“Did you want to see another fire?”
“Lord Hughoc, by what do you mean—”
Lord Hughoc grabbed the candle holder next to him and let the flame light the corner of the parchment on fire. Holding the letter, he carefully maneuvered it until dropping the last corner onto the table.
“Lord Guymar,” said Hughoc. “Scoop up those ashes and carefully return them to your master. I will even provide a box for you to carry them in.”
Attempting to hold his head high, but failing to keep his dignity, Guymar cleared his throat. “It won’t be necessary to take those back to Warcton. Your message will be relayed.”
“This is no request. You’ll do it or go back missing body parts.”
“Please Lord Hughoc, enough with the threats. We’ll be on our way now.”
“It’s too late for that now. One cannot come into my castle, hand me a letter in which your lord accuses me of committing a high crime of vengeance. He concludes by attempting to extort coinage from me. Your lord is searching for a reason to fight me. He doesn’t need one. He can march his troops down here at any time and find a fight he is unprepared for.”
Beads of sweat formed on the forehead of Triston while Guymar rubbed his hands together. The fierce and unpredictable reputation of Hughoc was bearing down fully on the two men. He didn’t suffer fools kindly, especially not the type from Warcton.
There was danger in the air when there wasn’t only moments ago. The two exchanged quick glances before Triston, fear mounting in his voice, pleaded with Hughoc. “My lord, we ask in the name of the gods that you allow us to return to our homes. Please understand, we were forced into this fool’s errand.”
“We’re both from small houses, insignificant really,” Guymar quickly added, “and we must do what our liege lord commands.”
Hughoc laughed before slamming his fist on the table. “Damn you both, your tales of woe don’t move me.” The Lord of Armathain paused for several moments allowing the tension to tighten like a noose on a condemned man. “One of you gets to go while the other stays as my prisoner.”
Sir Terricus the Fierce had been standing at the right shoulder of Hughoc the entire time, showing restraint with the two messengers from Warcton. Had his lord given his approval, he would’ve gladly put both men to the sword.
“Sir Terricus,” said Hughoc. “Take Lord Triston downstairs. He needs stretching.”
“No Lord Hughoc, please, I beg you in the name of the gods. Please don’t do this evil.”
“Shut up,” said Terricus. “I’ve listened to you for the last hour—now you’ll listen to me. Get up.”
“Percy,” Hughoc shouted at a servant nearby, “go find something to hold the ashes on the table in so Lord Guymar can return with a message for his liege lord.”
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