Vol. 3: The Roman Orgy
Three months into my term as Duke of Averic, things were finally starting to recover from the tumult of the plague. With almost one-third of the population perished, I reorganized the serfs so that the nearest, most productive fields were adequately tended. Some of the crop in fields nearest the border ended up rotting on the vine for lack of manpower at harvest time. With fewer goods and services produced, there was less income to Castle Averic. It would cost money to rebuild the guard to a sufficient size to protect the province—but now was not the time to demand more money of the few, bereaved peasants that remained. I dipped into the family's own treasury to help keeps things afloat and cut back on unnecessary expenses, like fancy balls.
Even the Church was suffering. The Archbishop and I had a personal enmity dating to my childhood, but I respected the important role that Church played in the lives of the people and knew that the Church and state served to counterbalance each others' power. Clergy had been especially hard-hit by plague, perhaps because they had been exposed to so many of the ill when administering last rights. And the peasants, in dire straits, were unable to give to the extent that they used to. Just how hard the plague had been for the Church became clear to me when I received a call from Sister Dominia, Abbess of the Convent of Our Lady of Perpetual Suffering. They Abbey lay in the east of Averic, near the border to the King's own lands. When I was a schoolboy, Sister Dominia taught catechism, and we thought she was so old that she would fall over dead in the midst of the lesson. Ten years and one plague later, half of her convent had perished, but Sister Dominia continued on.
"Sister Dominia!" I exclaimed in half-disbelief as she came to see me for an audience.
"Your Grace," she replied as she strode forward.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked.
"The Abbey," she said, getting straight the point as she always had, "is in dire need. So many sisters were taken by plague that one of the two halls of the Abbey stands empty. The roofs of our buildings leak so badly the sisters get drenched if they are saying vespers during a storm. There aren't enough of us to tend the grapes, so we will produce little wine this year, and that is our only source of income. We need help."
"I am sorry to hear that, Sister," I said honestly, "but surely the Archbishop is the one who can help you?"
"The Archbishop has turned his back on us," she answered bitterly. "In the past, the Archdiocese could help when needed, but there is barely enough coming in to the coffers to keep the churches open. He has told us flatly that he cannot help us out."
"Unfortunately, the plague has hit us all hard," I answered. "The fields likewise have not enough peasants to farm them, and tax revenue is way down. I have had to use my own personal funds to pay the guard. We are all in the same boat."
"And that boat shall sink if we do not patch it soon," she replied. She wasn't surprised that the government couldn't help, but she owed it to her Abbey to ask. "We would take any assistance we can get—if not financial, manpower, materials, anything."
"If we can spare anything, I shall think of you," I promised. Sister Dominia bowed and took her leave. We both knew those words likely meant nothing.
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While it seemed everything was suffering from the results of the plague, one industry thrived: witch hunting. The superstitious masses blamed almost everything bad on witches, and a group of them somewhere decided that witches must have been behind the plague, and set about trying to uncover their coven. Mysterious flyers titled "Identifying Wytches and Wytchcraft" were circulating, not just in Averic but throughout the kingdom. Across the realm women of all sorts, and even a few men, were being charged with witchcraft. In almost all of the other fiefdoms, witches were turned over to the Church for prosecution. What happened to them depended on the diocese, but the vast majority ended up being tortured to death.
Not so in Averic.
I personally tried those suspected of witchcraft, and had exonerated the accused in every case. At first, I had even offered positions in my household staff to the fairest of the accused, and as a result I had two lovely two paramours living in my castle. Eve had been the first; raven-haired, ample of bosom and in her mid-twenties, she was an experienced and sophisticated lover. Arianna was in many ways her opposite; flame-red haired, slight, and younger even than I at 20, she was naïve and inexperienced but made up for it with a strong willingness to please. I was fortunate indeed, but had also had resolved to take on no more, even if my finances would have permitted it. I wished both of my concubines to be equals, and vowed to share myself with them equally—but I also thought that I would be the one to initiate relations with them. Instead, there developed a friendly competition for my attention as each sought to reassure herself that she remained in my favor. Thus each became increasingly proactive in offering me her charms, and in order to avoid jealousies forming and keep peace in the house I felt I should not turn down any reasonable advances. Thus I found myself passing nearly every idle moment engaged in the pleasures of the flesh. A wonderful problem to have, but one I had to maintain limits on, or surely I would expend so much energy on me personal entertainments as to neglect my responsibilities as Duke. That is why the arrival of Maris caused me such concern.
The guards had heard reports of a stranger being seen in a border town. They located and questioned her, then brought her to me to decide her disposition. As she was brought forward, Jauffrey announced "The Duke shall now hear the case of Maris, vassal of the Count of Merseinne."
An attractive young woman with long fair hair, dressed in peasant attire, was brought forward. She wore chains on her neck, wrists and ankles; a single length of chain ran from her collar connected to the chains between her wrists and ankles. Before I could even ask the first question, she fell to the ground, pleading "My lord, Prince Bonir, I beg of you, I am need of protection."
"Rise!" I commanded. She remained on her knees, however, although she kneeled upright to better converse. "Protection from what?"
"My lord, there are those who would have me tried as a witch in Merseinne. If I am returned to them, I shall surely perish. I..." her voice faltered slightly. She swallowed hard and continued "When I was a girl, I watched them burn my poor, innocent Aunt alive. One of the townsfolk was grievously injured by a wild boar, and she attempted to help heal the wounds by mixing herbal remedies. When he perished in spite of her efforts, they accused her of killing him. Many came forward in her defense, but in the end she was burned anyway." She paused as bitter memories filled her head. She concluded "To this day the sound of her screams wakes me up at night." Tears already streamed down her cheeks.
"See, you have nothing to fear," I said, walking down the steps from the throne and scooping a tear from her cheek, tasting it to verify its saltiness. "You tears already exonerate you."
"My lord," she replied, "such reason holds sway in Averic because you make it so. It is not so in all of the provinces."
"What say you?" I asked, astonished. "Performing acts that witches are known to be incapable of is not sufficient proof for exoneration?"
She shook her head from side to side. "No, my lord. They are dismissed as trickery and deceit, perverted so as to be taken as further proof of witchcraft." I stood there, stunned. "My mother heard that charges were being brought against me, I know not on what grounds. It matters not, as the outcome is assured in Merseinne. She gave me all the money we had saved up and told me to flee at once to Averic. She told me that she heard rumors that a witch can get a fair trial there from His Grace the Duke. I had not even time to pack anything, all I possess is the clothes I wear and the few coins that remain from my journey." After a pause, she said, "I do not know if my mother even yet lives, or if perhaps she was executed for aiding me in my flight." She cast her eyes down at the ground, unable to stem the flood of tears, but trying to hold back the sobbing.
Stunned, I sauntered back to my throne and sat upon it. "My heart goes out to you, dear lady," I said thinking out loud, "but I am a loss as to how to help. In the past I have sometimes accepted cases such as yours into my own household, but I cannot do that now, for my household is full. Worse, if you have heard in far-off Merseinne that a witch can get a fair trial in Averic, and it is not so elsewhere, then we can expect a flood of accused witches may be sneaking under the cover of night towards our borders even as we speak."
"I cannot simply return you to Merseinne to face certain death. But nor can I simply permit you to reside in Averic. The Manor system is grounded on vassals bound to serve one lord. The system only works so long as the lords agree to honor each others' indentures. Without it, one province could raid its neighbors, offering incentives for peasants to relocate and farm its undermanned fields. Others would follow suit, and soon the kingdom would fall into chaos. Peasants would be moving from manor to manor constantly, leaving no time for working. Peasant wars would erupt between provinces, and in the end the kingdom would surely fall." The entire court was silent as a grave; even Maris had ceased her tears as she listened to me explaining the predicament she posed.
