Konar leaned forward. "If you can help us get the Duke's approval, we
can raise an army which ten Bel Menstals would fail to withstand."
"The Duke's approval?"
"Certainly." Konar waved his hand. "Look over your walls, Excellency.
You have burghers. There are armorers, merchants, with their caravan
guards, artisans, even peasants. Here, today, are gathered more
able-bodied men than Bel Menstal could raise, were he to search out and
impress all the hill tribes."
"But, to arm these Commoners? And would they fight?"
"To be sure. Given reason, they will fight like madmen."
Meinora leaned forward, speaking rapidly. "For long years, they have
suffered from the road and river taxes of Bel Menstal, as well as from
the insults and blows of his officers. Many of them have been
imprisoned, and held for ruinous ransom. Others have been tortured and
killed. Under the serf, they would suffer additional taxes, until they
were driven from the land, or themselves reduced to serfdom and even
slavery." He waved at the town.
"Caravans would be halted and stripped of both goods and coin. All this,
he has done before, but on no such scale as he would were restraining
hands removed." Meinora spread his hands.
"The Duke has only to promise, under his solemn oath, to rid the land of
robbers, to allow the merchants and artisans to police the land, and to
form those guilds and associations which they have long petitioned for
their own protection. For these things, they will fight."
The Baron leaned back in his chair. He had heard some of these arguments
before, but had ignored them, thinking that they were mere special
pleading from interested merchants. Now, they were being presented by
men of his own station.
And the situation was urgent. Drastic measures were necessary. Under the
gaze of the two, he felt a change of thought. The whole thing was
possible, of course, and it might be that trade, uninterrupted by robber
depredation, would provide greater taxes than before.
Finally, he rose to his feet. "Come," he said, "we will seek audience
with the Duke and put this matter before him."
* * * * *
"Well, that's part of the job." Klion Meinora twisted in his seat and
craned his neck to look at the green fields spread out beneath the
flier.
"It worked out almost exactly as you explained it, Chief." Konar looked
curiously at his instructor. "But I missed a couple of steps somewhere."
"It followed from the culture pattern." Meinora raised an eyebrow. "You
saw the reaction of the Duke when he realized that Flor was actually a
serf?"
"Sure. He was so horrified, he was sick."
"But did you think of the reaction of the townsmen and peasants?"
"You mean they'd feel the same way?"
"Sure. Most of them did. These people have been ingrained with a firm
belief in their mode of living. They regard it as right and proper. And
the murder and robbery of a noble by a serf is just as serious in the
eyes of serfs and freemen as it is to the nobles. No serf in his right
mind would even think of raising a hand against a noble, not even in
self-defense. Catch?"
Konar leaned back. "Oh, brother," he murmured. "I can just see what
happened when Flor's real status finally penetrated the minds of his own
men."
"You're probably right, too. And with no body shield to supplement his
rather awkward swordsmanship, Flor was fresh meat for the first real
fighting man that stood up to him." Meinora shook his head.
"His was a hopelessly twisted mentality, and there was no possibility of
salvage."
"I know. They have a few of his type in the wards at Aldebaran." Konar
shrugged hopelessly. "Therapists just fold their hands when they see
'em."
"They do that. People like Flor are just pure ferocity. Oh, sometimes,
they're cunning, even talented. But there's no higher mentality to
develop--not a trace of empathy. And you can't work with something
that's completely missing. Good thing they are quite rare."
"I should say so," agreed Konar. "A very good thing." He looked out over
the fields. "His influence lasted for a while, too."
"It did. He'd conditioned his people to a certain extent. Just as I
expected, it took some time to persuade that gang to stop their
depredations, and it had to be done the hard way. But the merchants were
willing, and that's what it took." Meinora brushed a hand over his hair.
He knew how the rest of this story went----
"It'll take 'em some time to get used to their new charters, but the
roots of the guilds are formed. And they did some fighting and learned
their powers. It'll take a lot to make 'em go back to the old routine.
The Duke'll never try it, and his successors won't be able to. Anyone
who tries to conquer that bunch of wild-cats'll have a tough job, and
he'll get really hurt. It'll spread, too. Merchants and artisans in the
next duchy'll get the idea. And then the next, and the next. Freedom's a
contagious thing."
Klion Meinora studied the terrain, then turned back.
"It's going to be a tough planet for a long time," he said thoughtfully.
"A tough, brawling planet. They'll fight for everything they get, and
sometimes for just the love of fighting. The people who come from here
will be something to deal with. But they'll knock their own rough edges
off. No, they won't be savages."