The Miser’s Gift

HEAVY WITH THE FEAST the trader had ordered spread before them, Steven had difficulty focusing on what was being said. There had been considerably more ale served than Steven was used to. Ibin once again convinced Steven that in order to establish their position in the inn, they should arrive as a gentleman and his page. Since Ibin knew more about the conduct of civil affairs than Steven, he would be the gentleman, and Steven would be his page and confidante. As the gentleman’s page, it was up to Steven to pay the innkeeper for the feast and lodging while the trader continually invited others to join at their table. Steven calculated the cost of the meal and lodging in his head and resolved to withhold two gold pieces worth of information from the man he now considered little more than a thief.

As Steven cut his food, the thief noticed the knife with the dragon pattern engraved on its blade.

“Steven George,” said the thief at last. “The company is in need of a story. As you owe me a story debt, I call upon you to tell us the story of that knife you use at table.” At once, all eyes fell upon the knife that Steven held in his hand and there were exclamations over the beauty of the knife. Steven had prepared a story about his hat for the company and was surprised at the request.

“Wouldn’t you rather hear about my hat?” he asked. Those gathered at the table laughed.

“My poor page is recently from the country where stories are often told about the fantastic adventures of articles of clothing,” laughed the thief. “No, fair page. No peasant hat stories for this company. Tell us instead of this beautiful knife, and how a simple page comes to have it.”

Steven looked around the company and in his state of disorientation brought on by too much food and ale they reminded him of nothing less than gathered predators descending on their prey. Forgetting the advice of the Tinker, he took another sip of his ale and rose uncertainly to stand by the table.

ONCE UPON A TIME, when grandfathers were young and paths had not yet wound away from the Castle of Minor Ordam, there lived a miserly despot named Grouse who ruled over all the land with a tight fist and a sharp tongue. Grouse was hated by all his subjects and by his overlords as well. It was said he had many treasures in his castle and guarded them with fervor. The miser’s treasure room, it was rumored, would be a sight to behold if only one could get to it. But the room was located in the center of the castle dungeons. It was locked by a huge padlock and chains held the bar in place. This room, in turn, was reached by a staircase that had a locked door at both the bottom and the top. The staircase was in a private locked chamber that could only be reached through a door hidden in the master’s bedchamber. No one had ever been in the mysterious vault except the master, but tales of its glory were told throughout the land.

The miser’s touch was hard on the people of his land. He taxed what little they had and let nothing issue from his palace that would help them. The peasants of Minor Ordam were so pressed, that, after their pleas to the miser had failed to win succor, they sent a delegation to the miser’s overlord, who in turn summoned a council of the lords around. They listened to the peasants’ complaint—how they were unable to feed their families because of the heavy taxes the miser imposed and how their children were unclothed in the winter because the miser took their wool.

First the lords thought they would tax the miser for his injustice, but the miser just threatened more stringent duties on his people. Then the lords thought they would make war on the miser, but the cost of war is high and if the miser closed his gates, they would have to besiege the castle for months, or possibly years, before they could breach the walls. Finally, the lords came up with the idea to infiltrate the castle with their own man who would gain access to the miser’s treasury and distribute it back to the people with, of course, a fair share going back to the overlords. They searched far and wide for the right person when they thought of a thief named Bárcenas.

Now Bárcenas had been known to the lords for many years, but had gone unpunished for his deeds because he could never be caught with the stolen property. He continued to prosper amidst them as he continued steal from them. So, they reasoned together that they could rid themselves of miser and thief together by getting the thief to break into the miser’s treasury, then convicting the thief at last for his crimes.

Bárcenas had not survived for so long through idiocy. He was clever and saw through the lords’ plan immediately. But how could he avoid their clever trap? If he failed to breach the miser’s treasury, the Lords would surely banish him. Yet if he did breach the treasury, they would convict him of theft and he would lose both his hands.

Bárcenas approached the Castle of Minor Ordam with caution late one night. He silently scaled the walls of the castle and peeked over the parapet. All was dark and silent. He raced across the rooftops looking for guards and trying to find the master’s bedchamber. But looking from the outside was in vain, and as dawn began to clear the eastern skies, Bárcenas slipped out of the castle and away. This happened for two more nights with the same results. The thief was discouraged as he had found no way into the inner fortification. This would require a different approach.

The next day the thief went to the market in the city. He looked long and hard for something special. At last, in the back chamber of a metalsmith, the thief saw his salvation. It was a golden goblet. Runes were engraved around the lip of the beautiful goblet and the stem was fashioned in the shape of a dragon with unfurled wings. The golden flames that shot from the dragon’s mouth were so cunningly crafted that they looked as though they would burn the unwary. This was the pride of the smith’s workshop and he was cautious showing it to Bárcenas.

But the thief had no intention of stealing such a fine piece, for surely this would be known anywhere that he might try to sell it, and in his line of work collecting lovely pieces of art was impractical. Instead, Bárcenas paid for the goblet. The price nearly beggared the thief, but he knew where he could get more coins. There was only one dragon goblet.

The next day, Bárcenas arrived at the Castle of Minor Ordam when the first peasants were entering with their goods for sale in the market and paying their taxes to the guards on duty. He took with him a simple young man who knew no better than to act as his page. As they approached the guards, the page stepped boldly forth and declared, “Make way for my master, the honorable Duke of Skulhelitan, heir to the Kingdom of the Underlands and ambassador to the fabled Castle of Minor Ordam. We seek audience with His Glorious Lordship Grouse to pay him honor and bring him gifts.”

The guards nearly fell over one another in attempting to usher the thief and his page into the presence of Lord Grouse. They were offered wine and food, given a fine room and were encouraged to bathe before they met with the master. The thief briefly considered slaying the lord and claiming the castle for himself, but the power of the overlords made him cautious. They would not willingly suffer a man of his reputation as an underlord. At last, they were summoned to the hastily cleaned throne room of Lord Grouse.

The master was seated on an elevated chair that the thief saw was not so much a throne as it was thrown together. A chair sat on wooden boxes to give it more height. It had been covered by what appeared to be nothing less than a feather blanket retrieved from a bedchamber.

The thief politely knelt before the throne as the page announced his presence. Then he rose to address the master.

“Oh, most elevated master of this most glorious house, your humble servant is honored by your gracious hospitality. I bring greetings from Glendal, King of all Skulhelitan and your faithful servant. The King has long sought to have audience with the honored Lord Grouse, but has been ill for many years and cannot travel. Therefore, he bade me as, his heir apparent, to seek the wisdom and counsel of the famed Lord Grouse in his stead.” The thief was most eloquent in his address, quite overwhelming Lord Grouse who had not in his memory received an ambassador from any other lord, duke, or king of any land. The flattery worked well.

“My Lord Duke,” said Grouse, “I am pleased to welcome your visit and ask that you bring what matter you will to my judgment and I will advise you with the experience of my years.”

Then Grouse stood from the throne, which nearly toppled with him as his foot caught in the blanket and it slipped between the crates. His dignity was barely rescued by the guards who caught him and set him on his feet. He joined the thief and asked him, “What counsel would you seek from me, good sir Duke? Let us walk in the garden and talk as friends.”

And so, they left the banquet hall and walked in what Grouse called his garden. It was so overgrown with weeds and briars from lack of attention that the two soon gave up trying to fight their way through the brambles and sat together on a rickety bench, out of earshot of the guards who were still picking stick-tights out of the joints of their armor.

“Soon—indeed, I am afraid all too soon—I shall ascend to the throne of my esteemed ancestor, King Glendal,” said the thief. “He is old and ill and the time will come that he will pass over the river as a free soul. But my ascension to the throne is not uncontested, for there is a widespread belief that we have not the ability to establish alliances with kingdoms of the Overland. We fear that we will come to blows with nations who suspect, unwisely, that we are weak. Therefore, I have journeyed to you to find some means of establishing an alliance that will dissuade them from aggression for we are a peaceful, though fearsome, people. In turn, the forces of my realm will be at your command should your overlords continue their meddling in your affairs.” Bárcenas nodded wisely and Grouse remembered the overlords’ demands that he share his wealth with the populace.

“And you seek that alliance from me?” asked Grouse, incredulously. “I am not powerful. I do not have an army that can assist you. How can I be of use?”

“Ah,” said the thief. “We have force of arms to withstand attack, but would rather not be challenged. What you have and are so modest about is fabled wealth. We do not seek an alliance of strength, but of treasure. In this we believe we can make a grand alliance.”

Now the miserly Grouse was cautious at the mention of his wealth, but the flattery of the thief was such that he let his caution slip.

“How would my wealth be of help to you?” he asked.

“Well,” said Bárcenas, “our vaults in Skulhelitan are the strongest in the world. Our army is strong and able to withstand assault because they are wraiths and spirits that are not easily slain in battle. We need to show our enemies that our army is trusted by our allies so they will be discouraged from attacking us. I would propose that we store your wealth in our vaults. Thus, our enemies can see that you have created a strong alliance with us and will know that they cannot possibly breach our defenses. Your enemies will know that you have compacted with the Underlands and will not dare attack you. And we will pay interest.”