Quite what Jeremias had expected when he was ushered out from the mayor’s hovel, was difficult to say. When he had arrived the previous day, it was to find the dilapidated village of Rojaldea a small, dumpy run-down place with homes built of thatch and wood. It was in all honesty, a stinking mess that he had entered with some reluctance if only because of his disdain for the stench. It was also why he had little love for the city of Taletium as it currently stood.
Preferring instead, the cleanliness of the forest, the lack of stench that belonged entirely to the magnificent Baron Jaime, his father’s closest friend who was always keen to throw his gates open to him. It was for this reason that Jeremias had struggled so with adapting to the village and had been stunned to find it so much filthier than even the city he called home.
The eruption of the people into open revolt stunned him, hardly able to understand why, he was to hurry from the home of his host to directly outside near where the stables were. Keen to escape from the village, he was to do as bidden even as he narrowly evaded a variety of weapons thrown, including improvised ones. Among the improvised weapons were stones with some of them hitting, bludgeoning and tearing at the flesh of those around Jeremias.
Worried for his household, even as he was thrust upon his horse, by one of his supporters, the captain Brayan threw him onto his horse before slapping the steed’s rear. This just before a spear was thrust forward and cam near to tearing through more than simply the air, and into his flesh. Missing the good captain by a few mere inches, this spear was soon seized from where it had landed and perched itself into the ground. It was with a great roar of defiance that Brayan was to seize it, wrenching it from the ground and throw it back the way it had come.
His aggressive act was one that won him much acclaim in later days, though it was not certain that his spear found its mark. What was more, was that his bold rescue of the King and staunch refusal to follow after him and to hold his ground until the entirety of the royal family had been sent away, won for him their eternal gratitude. Such was the amazement they felt when at last he piled Elisabet and the youngest of her sons’ onto a horse together with Sir Alejandro, a fellow knight ere he slapped the horse’s rear also. “Go, hurry away whither from this place milady!”
“Y-yes of course,” She acquiesced at once, fearful for her children more than for herself at that moment.
Grasping the youngest in her arms as the knight held her tight against his bosom, his other hand upon the reins of the large war-horse that carried them through the night. While her son whimpered fearfully, and Jaime who was treated much the same as Jeremias had been before him, Elisabet murmured Emiliano’s name as though in prayer. She wished he was present therewith her, even as she knew that it was impossible.
Soon, in her fear she urged the knight who held her to spur the horse on faster than before, without a care for anything other than putting as much distance between them and the maddened mob. Her terror at the thought of what they might do to her, and her children driving her to such madness that she and her protector soon overtook her eldest son.
In the midst of reclaiming control of the steed beneath him, Jeremias looked up in alarm a cry torn from his throat as his mother as she overtook and raced along north towards the castle. A keep which was to prove the only place of solace that they might find in that place.
More than a little wearied from lack of sleep, as by the realization that he had just been the victim of a sudden revolt, the first of its kind in decades he slumped a little in his saddle. He prayed that the rebellion might wither away, yet as he could still hear the cries of those men who had decided to try their chance at slaying him and his brothers he did not hold out much hope.
*****
Once more on the road to the principal city of the barony, it happened that Jeremias was sent on ahead of his household. Sent on ahead of them, because he was King a position that signified he and his brothers who were sent on ahead not long after him, ere they could protest. This was done much to his chagrin, as he would have preferred to fight on at the side of his protectors. How could he call himself King if he could not protect his people? And where was he sent on ahead to? None other than Castle-Rojalfort where one of his father’s least favourite barons had lived, the lord Santiago who had once been a rival for the affections of Teresa’s mother the Countess of these very lands.
Infuriated by the failure on his part to foresee a potential revolt and to protect his people, he could not help but protest and curse every second of the race away into darkness away from the village. The monarch of Castillion was to regain some measure of control of his stallion at this time, and though he directed it after his mother even as Jaime caught up to him, he glanced behind him continuously. Not fearfully, but rather as one who is lost in thought does. Brooding, he would never forget the revolt or how desperate his people had looked before it happened.
*****
Though they stayed in the home of the baron Santiago of Rojalfort, for almost half a week they were soon to decide to cut their pilgrimage short at his insistence. The large pudgy baron was to command the crowds to disperse, but starving and desperate they were to refuse.
“Never! Not until the King comes down, and answers for his crimes!” Shouted one particularly hot-tempered peasant.
“What crimes?” Jeremias yelled back from atop the wall, shaken by the accusation.
“Over-taxation! We shan’t eat, we shan’t afford anything and still we are expected to pay after two bad harvests!”
“Pardon?” Jeremias replied at once, stunned and unsure of how to answer. Confused he looked to the baron who though plump, looked no less confused. “Do you know of what they speak?”
“I do believe they speak of the royal tax-collectors, since some time ago they have been coming hither in greater and ever increasing frequency.” He answered visibly troubled, whereupon he shrugged his shoulders helplessly, “I attempted to advise against taxing the peasants and local merchants to this extent but my warnings were turned away. Some even accused me of treason for the mere suggestion of mercy.”
This took Jeremias by surprise, for he had never perceived that this might be happening. Certainly, he now eyed the baron’s fat belly with a certain suspicion now, yet could not imagine the man to be wholly as cruel as the rumoured tax-collectors. Faced with the evidence of the crime committed in his name, he was to turn the matter over again and again in his mind.
Turning now to the peasants far below him, he was to shout at them, “Select three representatives, and I shall meet them within the walls, and discuss with them what is to be done.”
“Have you run mad man? You cannot do that!” Elisabet shouted up at him, having overheard his proposal.
“It is what father did many years ago with merchants who refused to pay their tithes; he spoke with them and in this situation would speak with them as I shall.” Jeremias informed her sharply; keen to assert himself in this situation. “Surely, once they have seen me they shall see reason.”
“Do not be so naïve, your father was and it cost him his life!” Elisabet hissed furiously, so genuinely stricken and furious so that Jeremias did not know how to answer her.
It happened that just as he prepared to meet with the peasants they were to refuse to meet with him, shouting their refusal on the basis that they could not trust him. Shaken by this show of mistrust and of suspicion towards him, the King stood stock still atop the castle-walls. He did not know what to make of those words, did not know how he could set things right he knew only that the rebellion had grown out of anger against his kingship.
But he had left all of the duties of running the kingdom to his mother and her consort had he not? Therefore why did they blame him? Why were the peasants full of hatred against him? When he tried to explain they accused him of lying, so that he could not explain to them what had happened.
In the days that followed the castle was encircled, and yet the peasant army was to encircle the castle and begin attempting to break through the main gates with a large battering ram. They also attempted to climb the walls and to otherwise break their way into the castle. Seizing a hold of what little produce and food there was, they ate their fill and saved the rest.
It was a week before there was even a glimmer of hope, in the form of one of the lesser captains. One who had already proven his worth once before, and was keen to do so again.
It was at this time that Brayan one of the lesser captains of the royal guard, broke through with a sudden charge out of the eastern gates. Leading two dozen men he was to circle about from the hole he made in the enemy lines and throw himself manfully against every man and woman who would oppose him.
It seemed as though he might well run down every person he came across regardless of whether they were of the race of men or beast-folk, or their station. All were equal in the face of his mighty blade, and all were to be equally hewed down. The screams of those who raced away from him, daunted by his show of maddened courage impressed a great many atop the walls. It was however as he turned about that it was decided by the likes of Jeremias that now was the time to escape.
“We must away, if we do not fly now from this place, we shall never survive and shall only be besieged and starved to death or worse.” Jeremias concluded keen to escape if only that he might ensure the survival of his family.
By this time, worn and tired from the struggle and from the near continuous quarrelling with her son, Elisabet was to slowly nod her head. She had had enough, had endured more than she could tolerate now, and wished only to be brought before her husband and to return home. Any plans to extend their pilgrimage
*****
It was only after the return to the city of Taletium, when he and all those with him had trotted past the large gates built by King Brayan, more than a hundred and forty-years past that he was to feel a flash of relief. The harsh measures that Emiliano had wished to turn to, in order to punish the people of Rojaldea a distant memory behind him the moment he returned to his bedchambers.
It was not that he had craved the safety of his chambers, the quiet contemplation that was to be found only there or in the local temple, but rather that it was only once here that he could decide upon a course of action.
Certainly it was true that Emiliano and Elisabet were still regents. They controlled the ship of state and had captaincy of the realm in his stead. However, it was only therein the city of Taletium that he might devise a new policy, call upon Emiliano and Elisabet (who rarely left the city) and have them repeal taxes and tithes properly to end the revolts and rebellions that had rocked the realm.
Once the people see the love I bear for them, Jeremias told himself, they will melt away and end the rebellion at once, realizing that mine is a gentle hand not a rough one.
Convinced of this fact he was to the day after his return to Taletium call upon his stepfather, saying to him when the man presented himself in his chambers shortly after he had dressed for the day and begun preparing his tools for the sculpting of more of his ‘play’ city. “Emiliano, I have need of thy help.”
“Of that we both know,” Emiliano said at once with a hint of a smirk, one that annoyed Jeremias for reasons that presently escaped him.
“I must discuss with you the rebellion taking place in the county of North-Asturia,” Jeremias replied shortly.
“We will do all that we can to put an end to it, you need not concern yourself, your Highness.” Emiliano assured him at once, his voice as oily and honeyed as that of a serpent one that might otherwise have enticed the youth.
It did not however, due to how he was not listening, as he picked up a single sharp implement for the shaving of slivers of stone from the marble stone he held. Holding it up to observe the rock he studied it carefully, along with a small block of wood he had ordered before his return. “I had thought rather than suppress it, to instead kneel to it.”
“Kneel?” The incredulousness in his stepfather’s voice was unmistakeable.
“Indeed, we will announce the repealing of ALL taxes in the past seven years,” Jeremias proposed thoughtfully. “This will rid them of all their ‘righteousness’ and should they continue to revolt we will after the taxes have been repealed suppress it then.”
Emiliano studied the King, doing his utmost to hide his disdain for this idea. The King he decided was naïve was swept up by fear and by inexperience. Thinking it his duty to counsel him, he approached the younger man, speaking all the slower to him thinking him stupider than originally thought. “My liege, you must understand… these are dangerous times, I understand the strain you have been under is terrible-”
“Strain, what strain? I think only to rid myself of a rebellion, one that I have no wish for,” Jeremias snapped at once, disliking the condescension he detected in the older man’s tone.
“You must be guided by your senior statesmen and councillors’ wisdom; we have long served and have considerably more experience in such matters than yourself.” Emiliano told him with exaggerated patience, as though the monarch were particularly slow.
Jeremias turned his head to study his councillor. There was something in the older man’s voice, something just beneath the man’s condescension that he detected now. It was the first time he had heard it, but he disliked it at once yet suspected it had been there for some time. What that thing was, was contempt.
Staring at his elder, he said to him, “Though you may have experience, Emiliano it is nonetheless my Kingdom and my realm to do with as I please. I would have it run well, and not over-taxed. The udder has it seems to me run dry. I would not have it milked anew when there is no milk to be had.”
“Your Grace, if you will this-”
“I have spoken Emiliano! I will not have any further discussions regarding my affairs; we must cut down taxes until such time as the realm has healed.” Jeremias snapped at him, eyes flashing with fury.
The regent studied his charge. He had for years watched as the youth had retreated inwards, at first he had celebrated alongside his wife, yet in more recent times he had begun to dread. He knew well enough that his charge had a growing desire to break free from his and Elisabet’s influence. He had learnt to mistrust the youth, and to treat him with caution.
He wishes to find his own feet, Emiliano had concluded some time ago, thinking it best to at present at least pay lip service to the desires of the King.
Unaware of the other man’s thoughts, Jeremias returned his attention to the sculptures that so preoccupied him in recent days.
The rebellion that had come near to ending his life had marked him. Putting down the sculpture, with a sigh he was to call for Gaston and his brother Jaime. He wished to discuss what had happened with his younger brother.
As he waited, he could not help but wonder what the future might hold. He hoped only that he might become every inch the sort of man that Éluan was. It was his view that as King he had a duty to improve upon what had come before. And by the gods, he told himself with the assistance of Jaime, he would succeed. Especially if it was Jaime who might succeed him as King, he thought to himself, resolved to be more involved in the life of his heir. This brush with mortality had taught him that he had left too much in the hands of Emiliano and Elisabet.
*****
The warrior-prince had since their return from the revolt spent much of his time in the courtyard. Resolved to never flee from anyone ever again and to prove himself a proper warrior he was to refuse to join his brother in his chambers sculpting and shaping a false city. Hardly able to say no to his brother, he was to join him in the courtyard so that the two of them spent a great deal of time jousting and practicing the use of arms.
Proud of his martial accomplishments small as they were, Jaime was to prove himself his equal in many of these manly arts. Proud, boisterous he was immensely popular with the knights who had initially taken him as a mascot and in more recent times had become one of them. The pride that his brother had developed was not something the elder brother envied, to the contrary it was his hope that he might rely upon his brother’s counsel should he continue to develop in this manner, in matters pertaining to war and violence.
“Care for a short practice round?” Jaime asked of the elder brother.
Captain Antonio studying the two with careful eyes was to remark to them, “I recommend unsharpened steel.”
It was a suggestion both agreed to at once. Both knew that live steel would never be permitted, due in no small part to their roles as King and heir. Neither man questioned it, both being well accustomed to this rule on the part of their household. Just as all must obey the King and the royal family in most matters, in matters of their health and safety their commands rarely if ever carried weight if it should endanger them.
Antonio was an older member of the household guards, one who had served since shortly before the death of Jeremias II. He was among those who had sought to rescue Jeremias the night of his death. Antonio had since been promoted to the position of instructor for the princes’ swordsmanship in place of handing them over to another for fosterage, as Elisabet feared for their lives.
The first to strike was quite naturally Jeremias, who was never one to let another strike first if he could help it. His blade hewing through the air, and striking that of Jaime who parried and riposted with equal speed, with Jeremias hurrying backwards to avoid his brother’s sword-thrust. They were to thence exchange a number of blows that were parried as the pair of brothers searched for weaknesses. Each blow left their arms quaking so that they both redoubled their attempts to knock the blade from the other’s hands.
Espying how his brother’s left foot was slightly bent and shook the last time they had exchanged blows Jeremias, considered it if as subtly as possible. It was unusual for Jaime to make such a blunder, as he was too skilled to let himself make one. Suspicious though he was that it was simply bait for him, he still knew it to be too good an opportunity to waste.
“An opportunity wasted is a victory dashed, seize what fate presents to you lest she present it to your foe,” as Antonio was always prone to saying to them. It was counsel that Jeremias treasured as he well knew it to be of direct practical use.
The battle could well have gone on for considerably longer. It happened that the pair prepared themselves for the last blows one might find to their playful duel.
The two were interrupted in the midst of their duel by the sudden arrival of a messenger. The man who caused the two brothers to broke apart and lower their blades was a stout fellow, with blond hair and a thick beard as he
“Sire, I bring news! Castle-Surroca is on the cusp of disaster, the Mardukians are on the verge of winning the siege!” the messenger yelled out as he arrived, throwing himself through the courtyard that he soon brought news that took the breath out of a number of the men present therein the courtyard.
A number of them were to also descend into tears, such was the horror and grief at the news. Never before since the days of the end of the reign of King Amalros VI had they received such terrible news. Once a number of the tears had dried, a great many o f those looked away from the messenger to their monarch, with expectant eyes.
“Sire, something must be done!” One man exclaimed at once, angry and prepared it seemed to leap onto a horse and charge forward from the castle.
“This is intolerable!”
“Do something sire!”
Jeremias though still in shock was to however call them to order, “You messenger go stable your horse and have something to eat. Captain Antonio have someone inform my mother and step-father and uncles. I will think on this.”
What he did not say, and hoped that they could not see was how shaken he himself felt, and how glumly he had received the news that Surroca was on the cusp of falling. It had been captured at great pains nigh on two centuries prior. If it were to fall during his reign, it would be him who people would blame, and he who would have to bear the mark of shame for the rest of eternity.
Seating himself upon the ground with his back against the castle dungeon wall, hardly paying his brother much attention as the other youth seated himself down beside him.
“There is a solution to that brother,” Jaime told him quite eagerly, after some thought, “The Three-Estates.”
“The Three-Estates you say?” Jeremias murmured thoughtfully, as he wiped at his brow with a cloth offered by one of the knights.
He liked the notion though was not entirely certain that it might go quite so smoothly, as Jaime suggested it might. But the confidence on the part of the younger man, combined with youthful enthusiasm soon won the day. “Come now think on it Jeremias! What is the worst that might happen? You could raise taxes for the first time after a year, of silence and thus raise troops to march south to re-conquer the March-lands!”
“I suppose you may be right,” Jeremias said with considerably greater scepticism.
“It is also crucial if you wish to marry,” Jaime added knowing this would win him the support of his brother, who thought over his words. The younger man had made a good argument, he had to wed and had to war. Therefore, as he thought the matter over, he reached the conclusion there could be no other choice.
The more he also thought it over, the more excited and carried along by his brother’s enthusiasm he was, with this proposal one that surprised Emiliano and Elisabet. The two of them were to prove no less enthused, and so it was to be that they would call for the Three Estates to assemble. If only they all knew the nightmare that was about to unfold for them, had they known the ruling couple might have forbidden it.
*****
The day of the meeting of the Three Estates dawned, and though some were filled with trepidation (such as Amalros and Juan), others such as Emiliano remained cheerful. No less cheerful than he, Jaime was almost bouncing in place and could hardly be convinced to swallow his breakfast. Not that his elder brother much blamed him, this was their first time presiding over an assembly of the people in so formal a manner, and it was also their chance to at last exert themselves, go to war and prove themselves men. No less excited, Jeremias enjoyed the dressing up for the assembly, for once wearing robes and clothes worthy of his station as Elisabet who was ordinarily so frugal with his clothing and dress sent for some of Emiliano’s silk clothing. Certainly some of it came up short (Jeremias was already taller than the middle-aged Duke), however it would have to do.
Pleased at the chance to wear his crown, with his brother by his side and mother on the other, with the family of Emiliano already seated within amongst the two more important assemblies. It would be entirely with their assistance he mused that he would after a full year of no taxes he might pass a bill to tax his people, if lightly so and go to war against the infidels in the south.
As he advanced into the hall, past the third estate he eyed them out of the corner of his eyes. They were not nearly so poorly or shabbily dressed as he might once have imagined. These were the wealthiest of merchants, the mightiest of those who might command people and some were even from the lower castes of society. They were men of considerable influence also, who had climbed their way up from the lowest places in society where some were concerned, to wield influence over the upper classes.
In this way they represented a powerful source of wealth and influence in society, with Emiliano speaking with many in quite the familiar manner. Some merchants were pleased by this, others seemed to look on him with a strange kind of bemused haughtiness, while most looked on him with greed.
Suspicious of a great many of them, as he recalled his father’s words about merchants, ‘some good but most lickspittles that would trade their children and dogs for bent coin. They cannot create, cannot build, do not trust them for they have no code like knights and ladies and clergymen do.’
He was to however address them and all the rest only when he had seated himself, paying no mind to the fact that they were better dressed than he was ordinarily. Seated upon his throne, he was to address them in firm tones, “I sit here before you all, pauper and King in dire need of a great deal of assistance. As all know all tithes and taxes have been remitted for a full year now, yet now the monarchy has need of assistance just as it was in the days of my ancestors. The Crown is impoverished and is in need of aid if it is to help rescue the realm.”
There was silence. There was not a soul who looked astonished, yet there was a nervousness that permeated the air. The lack of response and open staring drove Jeremias after several minutes to near madness.
“Well? What have you to say? Thou are compelled to speak by thy King!” He burst out, unable to understand their silence, or apprehension.
If he was confused, his brother bewildered and those around him frozen in place the Estates-General as they were also called were not. They were to now divide along lines of rank, to his stunned horror as one of those in the clergy stepped forward. It was Alejandro, his Absolver, who had hitherto now remained silent from where he sat.
The influential clergyman addressed his ruler in soft if pained tones, “My King, if I may, increased taxation is not possible.”
The news stunned Jeremias.
He did not know what to say, so that he could not speak with Jaime speaking up for the first time since the ceremony began. Dressed in royal robes no less regal than those of his elder brother, the younger man though rose to his feet to demand of the delegates of the kingdom. “Taxation? Impossible, do not impugn the honour of my brother- not if you wish to live douvard!”
The douvard in question looked suitably unnerved, even as several of his colleagues began to mutter between themselves. The clergy were naturally upset by the threat, while the first estate seemed almost possessed at the menace directed towards their clerical brothers. “You have no right to speak so to him!”
“We have been bled of all that we have, because of your unjust, and overwhelming taxes!”
“We have done no such thing!”
“Liars and oath-breakers! Your father turns in his grave!” Shouted one man.
“Tyrant!”
There were many more similar cries, ere the King at last lost control of himself.
“Bring forth the tax-rolls if you will continue to insist that you have been over-taxed, since last I convened the Three-Estates!” Jeremias bellowed beside himself with outrage and indignation at the accusations that had been thrown in the direction of his administration. He had certainly struggled to exert himself, being trapped under an extended minority due to his failure, to draw Colada from its pedestal however, the accusation of tyranny stung. He had never tyrannized over anyone, and had only requested what was natural.
The reality that his people were convinced once more after nigh on a year of his cutting away at tithes and taxation that he was still oppressing them was more than he could endure. Flashing his eyes at them, with the same fury that his younger brother Jaime did, he however restrained himself better than the younger prince could.
It was only with the most extreme of gestures that he managed to signal to his beloved heir that there was to be no arguments with the Estates. When the tax-rolls were at last brought in, Jeremias noticed just how glum Juan and Amalros appeared, yet he paid them no further mind than he did those stricken nobles to the right of the hall.
More interested in reading the rolls as they were laid out before him, he read attentively only to pale. “This is not what I ordered at all! Where- but how did it get all mixed up with one another? And where are the lands of South-Asturia, Ysonne, the island of Aprositus and the lands of Castallonia? Those were the richest of my father’s holdings when he was King!”
Flabbergasted and horrified, he could only command when none answered him at once, for a general search of all land deeds to be conducted at once. Convinced that something had gone horribly wrong, he could not help but read on.
By the end of it he was shaking and trembling with rage, such that he could barely restrain himself, “These taxes and tithes… I have never heard of a ‘door-tax’ let alone a ‘wool-tax’, or a ‘grazing tithes’ or a ‘horse-tax’! What in Hispania’s name is all this? And why are they inflicted upon the likes of barons such as Jaime, even Diego of Léan and also Emilia of Santa-Camila? And if so where are those inflicted upon the highest of Counts of the realm?”
“Sire, seat yourself and remain calm,” Emiliano told him intervening then in the same tone one might use with a madman who was on the cusp of a fit.
Paying him no mind, it happened that the King was to ask for the next roll, “I have never heard of such nonsense! Father- bring me the list of land deeds and tax rolls from his last year as King. I would read it.”
“Belay that command!” Elisabet shouted at once, to the surprise of all as she threw herself off her own throne, regaining her feet in a great fit. “My son is unwell.”
“I am quite well, thank you mother, bring me the rolls.” Jeremias countered hardly convinced, whereupon he turned to the servant who had brought the rolls previously to her outburst. “Bring them!”
“I will not allow any such thing! And would remind all present herewith us to-day, I and my beloved Emiliano are still regent!” Elisabet snapped furiously to the astonishment of her son and those present who had expected a great deal, but not a familial argument between mother and son.
Jeremias stared in confusion, bewildered by the refusal on the part of his mother, to acquiesce to his refusal to abide by his demand for the land deeds and tax-rolls.
Infuriated, by the refusal of his mother and regent to do their duty, he turned upon the other clerks and was more than a little pleased when they scurried away to do his bidding, rather than that of the couple’s. It was not long before the rolls were carried into the large hall, with the young King to have them brought before him and his brother.
Both of them ignoring the stern glances and disapproving words that continued to flow from their mother and stepfather read the rolls for some time. The ordinary rate was slashed with it having been previously set at the price of eight silver carnations with Jeremias having ordered it cut entirely. He had before the rebellion suggested two coins, which was the rate at which his father Jeremias II had taxed and tithed the people.
What he saw then, was that the rate had been raised to eleven coins.
How anyone could afford such a thing, was a mystery to him. Hardly unfamiliar with the amount that peasants made in a year, he was stunned that eleven silver coins should be the set amount. Looking up slowly, he stared for several seconds unable to see anyone for several long minutes.
When his gaze refocused itself, his ears continued to buzz, while he looked first to his Chancellor Juan, who paling made to hurry from the hall, his multiple chins sweating even as Emiliano attempted to call the meeting of the Estates-General to an end.
The difficulty was that the Regent did not have the appointed authority to do so, only the King had that right. It was thus for this reason that none cared to move one single hair from where they stood or sat. Hardly noticing any of this, Jeremias had eyes only for his mother.
“Mother,” He said quietly, “What is this?”
“It is the standard rate,” She whispered no less loud cornered, her eyes looking about for some means of escape.
“This cannot be! This is an outrage!” Jaime bellowed where his brother had not, “Father never would have accepted such a thing, nor ordered it!”
“This meeting is at an end!” She shrieked as she threw herself down the steps and escorted by her husband and his kinsmen, she left the hall even as her sons’ shouted after her. No matter their entreaties, their pleas, their threats not one of them would stay nor would any of the guards heed their words.
It was with some difficulty that Jeremias was made to recognize that he had not the authority to command, and instead turned upon his subjects. “This meeting is NOT concluded.”
“But you will not tax us further sire,” One man hissed, the fat merchant glaring in spite of the visible evidence of gold and silk on his neck and body.
One noble, the Count of Azabachia spoke up, “The peasants cannot afford to be taxed further Sire.”
Shaking with helpless rage, Jaime yelled, “Are we to be left with nothing to defend our father’s kingdom with? We must have something!”
“No, Jaime,” Jeremias intervened hoarsely, on his feet. Thinking rapidly for some means to salvage the remains of his reputation and Kingdom he resolved himself to face down what his mother had done. “Best beloved of this realm, merchants of the four corners, nobles of the earth and clergymen who guide us to heaven, let us have a vote! Restore to me sole rule, and I swear to thou that the tithes and the weight that weighs upon thee shall be laid at last to rest. I ask- no I supplicate for one last change, this time we shall bury what we can of taxes and tithes, and shall add one more; all temples will keep their profits from the pilgrims who journey across the realm.”
This last offer was one that won him a tentative exclamation of approval from those around him. Grateful to them for their support, he made to leave dismissing the Estates-General of a view to bring things to an end that he might soon leave for the south.
Whispering to Jaime, as he left he was to gather a number of those who had participated in the meeting, “We must leave for the south at once.”
“What can you hope to accomplish sire, without the money to raise an army?” Alejandro asked of the King.
“Remove the capital south, and do my duty,” Jeremias snapped furiously as he stormed out of the royal halls of Taletium.