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THE BAG OF COINS MET the table with a thud, and King Barin looked up. Rupert, the tax collector from the north stood before him. A gusty man of incredible height with white hair, a red beard, and eyes that could do more damage than a sharpened blade. He spat on the floor when the young king rose.
“Kerchev’s pittance,” Rupert said, adding a slight bow. “No disrespect to you, Vasil.”
“And?” Barin asked, puzzled by Rupert’s manner.
“You paid me more for riding to that god-forsaken place than what I collected.”
Barin picked up the bag and assessed its weight much lighter than what it should be.
“What seems to be the trouble? Is the village plagued by some disease?” Barin asked.
“You’d be better off if it were.”
“What then?” The king opened the bag and set it on the table. A few copper coins dropped out.
“Tea,” Rupert said.
“I beg your pardon?” Barin frowned.
“It seems your loyal subjects no longer do commerce with our fine vineyards in Tellwater. They’ve taken up trade with Northerners. Bloody rascals gave up wine for lettuce juice.”
“That’s illegal. Trade across our borders is not permissible without the Crown’s consent.”
“You and I both know that. Try telling them.” Rupert helped himself to a seat at the king’s table and eyed an empty flask. The man was crude and disrespectful, but he had been a trustworthy servant to his father, the legendary King Tobias, and so Barin chose to put up with Rupert’s conduct. Barin had been on the throne for seven years now and still he had not completely exercised his authority in the northern territories, nor near the sea. There had been too many problems at home to travel the distance and so he sent envoys and delegates to those villages.
“Surely you informed them of the consequences?” Barin asked.
“Vasil, there’s not a merchant one who thinks you’ll lay down the law. They’ve so much as laughed at me and my men.”
Barin poured wine into two goblets and set one before Rupert. He took the other and let the cool liquid burn off the ire in his gut. It was one thing to have a nobleman disrespect his authority, but an entire village.
“Who are these people bringing tea?”
“No one would tell me. What the nobles did affirm is that they’ve had no shipments from Tellwater. That’s where most of your duties come from. Some of these folks tried to lie about what’s been happening, but I got the truth from the innkeeper. The whole town’s dry. Not a decent mug of mead or mulled wine anywhere. This must have been the hardest collection I’ve ever been on.” He took a long swallow from his chalice and set it down on the table, empty.
Barin refilled it. Rupert wasn’t accustomed to traveling without refreshment. None of his tax collectors were. Taking money from people wasn’t easy and even Barin’s father had difficulty finding men willing to do it. Bribing his messengers with good pay, good food, and plenty of spirits was the only way King Tobias had kept them happy. Barin wouldn’t change that, but it seemed he might have to make a visit to the ports of West Kershiv himself.
“Remind me. Who is the lord of that land?”
“Name’s Bauer,” Rupert said, wiping his lips with his sleeve. “Bauer the Third.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I’m no soldier, Vasil. You have soldiers that do the confronting. I hold out the purse and let the coins fill it. When the money is in, I leave with your guards. I don’t pick up a sword unless it’s to save my life.”
Barin considered Rupert’s words`, sat at the table across from him and fingered the etching on his goblet.
His father Tobias had been a good ruler—kind and just. Yet as he got older and his health began to fail, not only had his records of lords and barons become non-existent, but King Tobias had lost his confident hand that kept order. There were many things Barin still needed to repair.
“Perhaps it’s time I take an account of the kingdom’s cities. Make a visit to them.” A visit by the king to all the lords of Potamia and their villages was long overdue.
“Whatever you see fit, Vasil. My work is finished.”