Thrand (Part Five)

 

The morning had well begun before Thrand finally left his apartments over the High Courts. He was now fully dressed in his ceremonial robes, as grey as dust and padded at the shoulders with leather spaulders engraved with Morgish runes, to signify the burden of the Law. A cloud of clerks and lesser judges began to carefully and casually buzz around him, so as to be near if he had any orders to give or indeed questions that they might answer. The notice of the Chief Justice at this crucial time might be just the little push one’s career needed to move things along a bit.

Thrand studiously ignored them. He knew that by now the news of his attack would have spread throughout the gossipy Courts. Will there be a new Chief Justice as well as a new King, was the question. He determined that he would give no sign of weakness, simply to confound them, though he was leaning more heavily on his polished black staff of office than usual. Not too obviously, he hoped. He liked to play things enigmatically. He grunted in quiet amusement as he went out the Great Doors and heard the whispers of speculation starting up behind him like a soft but rising wind.

Once outside two armored guards joined him promptly, grim and serious senior officers of the City Watch. The fat Morg ignored them, taking them as a matter of course. No one was to impede him on his way to the White Tower; no doubt even now there would be candidates for the throne or their agents waiting to waylay him to try to gain his attention or begin influencing him.

He kept his eyes fixed on the street ahead of him and stubbornly closed his ears to any cries from the crowd that was already gathering to either side, though it parted respectfully in front of him. Oh, why hadn’t he ordered a palanquin to carry him to the castle? He was already sweating in the warm morning air, beads of perspiration trickling down his graying beard. He just had to prove how well he was!  

Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the Courts to the Tower, and once there Thrand was swallowed up by cold stone corridors which hadn’t even started warming up at this hour. Halfway to the throne room he was allowed to sit a while with other courtiers, both human and Morg, awaiting their own visitation. A minor herald went forward to announce his arrival. The bench, as it received his grateful weight, creaked warningly, and heads were automatically turned. Thrand ignored them stoically. He didn’t give a mudhen’s fart.

All too soon (for him) the two official King’s Heralds arrived and indicated that he should follow them. One was an elderly man of about seventy, who walked stiffly but proudly erect. The other was a Morg, just coming into his prime, who glanced over at the man now and then in concern. It was looking to be, after all, a long day. They delivered Thrand into the throne room, announced him formally, then withdrew behind the doors and stood again at attention.

“You doing all right there, Wes?” the Morg murmured to his companion.

”Yes.” The other caught a raspy breath. “But the old order changes, doesn’t it, Teq? Even for kings. You’ll be training up a new boy any time now, I reckon.”

“Mog forbid, Wes. Mog forbid.”

Notes

A spauldor is a piece of armor covering the shoulder, similar to but simpler than a pauldron. It was worn on both Roman and medieval armor. Gladiators wore them, and I suppose you could say a court of law is in many ways an arena. I must confess that this detail of dress was more or less inspired by Planet of the Apes.

I was surprised but pleased to find out that Teq and Wesmer (Wes) were making an appearance in this story as well. They were not in my notes when I began writing. They began way back in Thron, the first new ‘Tale of the Morgs’ I wrote when I took up that old Ortha mythos again, and have appeared now and then when the stories are set at Court.

As a human, Wesmer has of course aged much faster than the Morg, Teq; this has been one of the melancholy facts of the relationships of the races whenever they intermingle. It’s probably been a factor in keeping them largely separate over the years.  An analogy, I suppose, though not of course complete, would be our friendships with pets.

A sort of theme seems to be emerging that I hadn’t completely considered: youth and age, health (life) and death, and change in general. This will particularly be emphasized by a new character I have yet to introduce.

I began writing at 1 AM and more or less finished at 4 AM.