Chapter10

The Princes of Ithilien and Dol Amroth stood together and waited for the page to announce them. Announcement made, the page stepped aside and signalled for them to enter. The Royal couple both rose from the table to greet their guests. The Princes stood to attention and saluted. Faramir took one pace back to allow the King to greet his friend and ally.   

Faramir had not seen either King or Queen since his little display yesterday and was slightly apprehensive of his reception. He had spent the night on Prince Imrahil’s ship, discussing his financial holdings in Dol Amroth.

 Faramir took the opportunity to glance over to Arwen; she winked reassuringly. His jest of the day before had been her idea, convincing him that humour was an ideal way to bridge the gulf between the King and himself. In the past he had only ever been on the receiving end of jests and pranks. But he trusted the Queen to know how best to approach the King.

When Imrahil moved away to speak to the Queen, Faramir remained, aware of the King’s scrutiny but not quite confident to meet his eye. The King walked slowly round behind him and Faramir was conscious of his imposing presence, could feel his breath on his hair.

“Do I take it you still wish to address today’s Council, Steward of Gondor?”  Faramir was aware both of the menace in the King’s tone and of the merry laughter coming from the other side of the room. He deduced that Arwen was apprising his uncle of his behaviour yesterday.

“Yes, Sire.” He tried to sound confident, but that confidence was shaken when a strong forearm snaked around his neck and held him firmly pinioned.

“And can I take it that if I allow this privilege no harm will come to my person or to the dignity of my office.” The arm tightened and he could only nod his confirmation.

“Put him down, Aragorn. You don’t know where he’s been”. Gimli cuffed the King on the shoulder and the arm around his neck loosened. The King turned Faramir round to face him. He cupped his hands around the sides of his head and tilted his head up until grey sparkling eyes met their match in the Steward’s hesitant gaze.

“Welcome home, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, you have been away from us too long.”

Faramir had to swallow down the tears that this heart-felt salutation induced, for he saw for the first time the friendship and the approbation that accompanied it. The King tilted his head forward until their foreheads touched.

Faramir felt a band of sorrow and fear around his heart.

 This was too soon, too unexpected, too fragile a moment. He longed to sink into the comfort that the gesture promised. But he was about to betray the honour and the trust so freely given; if the King countermanded his actions this day, all would be for naught. He withdrew with a tight smile and a look of sorrow that chilled Aragorn to the bone.

*******

The moment of truth had arrived.

Faramir stood in the empty Council chamber and looked around to ensure that all of the preparations had been completed to his satisfaction. The meeting today was not just of the Civic Council but also included some of the King’s special advisors; Legolas to represent the Elven Kingdoms, Gimli for the Dwarves, Prince Imrahil, the Commanders of the Tower Guard and of the main Garrison, the Warden of the Houses of Healing and finally Lord Corrin.

However this day played out it would change things for ever; it would make or break Faramir and he would end the day with everything or nothing.

He had confided in no one; only those party to his investigations knew the extent of the corruption he had uncovered and even Tamir was not a party to his intentions, though he was canny enough to make a good guess. Tamir had returned last evening from an errand that had taken him away from the city for the best part of a week; Faramir had missed his company and his council. Tamir could read him so well that he always seemed to know when he needed cheering or silence or distraction.

A bell sounded in the distance and gradually the chamber filled; the Councillors standing respectfully when the King arrived and declared the meeting open. The meeting progressed as usual. The slow boring tedium of overworked procrastination and evasion dragged on through the morning, relieved only by some heated discussions on the repayment of loans to Dol Amroth. Faramir watched and listened, rehearsing again in his head what was to come later.

It was with general relief that they all adjourned at noon for refreshment. Faramir took the opportunity to confer with Tamir and to ensure that all was ready. He forced himself to eat a little, though his stomach rebelled at the thought. A few minutes before the meeting recommenced Aragorn sent Imrahil to find him. He was out on the balcony trying to relax and clear his head.

“Faramir are you alright,” Faramir tried to smile but the gesture never quite reached his eyes. He stepped forward and embraced his uncle tightly, with a hint of desperation and sadness

“Uncle, promise me you will stay with the King, whatever happens! I have made what arrangements I can but I can’t see all ends….look out for him!” he begged.

“Faramir what is going on? Why will the King need protection…what have you done?”

“It is what I am about to do….all or nothing. If it goes badly…tell him I’m sorry…tell him I did my best.” he whispered, his words caught up and blown away on the breeze.

“Faramir!....” A bell sounded in the distance calling the meeting back to order and cutting off any further discussion. Imrahil had a whispered discussion with the King as they took their places.

If any of those at the table noticed the armed Tower Guards standing silently to attention in the dark recesses of the Hall they were too complaisant or too wise to comment on it.

With only two relatively minor items still on the agenda matters were soon concluded.

When the King stood, most thought it was to declare the meeting over, however he merely announced that Lord Faramir wished to address the Council. Faramir took a sip of water and closed his eyes before getting to his feet.

“Sire, Gentlemen of the Council, I thank you for your indulgence.”

“I have observed these last few Council meetings and I have learned much; it has been an interesting and enlightening process. I feel it is now time for me to accept the mantle that His Majesty saw fit to bestow upon me.” The White Rod, symbol of the Steward’s authority lay on a stand in the centre of the Council table; Faramir placed a hand on its smooth surface. “The King has asked me to take responsibility for Civic administration and to preside over this Council and I now feel ready to formally accept that role.”

Faramir stepped away from the table. As he walked towards the King, Tamir emerged from the shadows bearing a small velvet cushion on which lay a finely wrought ring. This was not the ring that had been Denethor’s symbol of office; that token had been lost in the conflagration that had consumed the Steward. This new ring had been forged with metals melted down from jewellery retrieved from Denethor’s vaults. It bore the crest of the Steward quartered with the symbol of Faramir’s Princedom of Ithilien.

“Sire !”  Faramir gestured for the King to rise. Puzzled, Aragorn pushed back his chair and got to his feet.  Faramir went down onto one knee before the King, taking the King’s right hand within his grasp.

“Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to Elessar, High King of this realm, to speak and to be silent, in peace and in war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my Lord release me, or death take me. So say I, Faramir, son of Denethor.” Faramir leaned forward and pressed his lips to the King’s ring.

“And this do I hear and honour, Elessar, High King of Gondor, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance.” Tamir stepped forward and offered the cushion towards the King. Taking the ring, he allowed himself a smile as he examined the cipher and he slipped it onto the Steward’s finger.

Faramir bowed to the King and returned to his place at the table.

“Sire, Gentlemen,” he began, addressing the assembly.  “When I returned from Edoras, it was with hope and conviction that I was returning to face the proud beginnings of a new and positive future for the country and the people who hold my heart; a new King and a new beginning. I travelled joyfully for I was coming home.”

“A chance meeting on the road changed that hope to anger and despair.” Legolas and Gimli exchanged puzzled and concerned glances.

Faramir signalled to the page at the door who stepped outside. A moment later Tamir entered escorting in a young woman. Gimli and Legolas knew the woman at once though she bore little resemblance to the haggard, half-starved refugee they had last seen at the farm. Lireal, nervous but with her head held proud, stopped in front of the King and curtsied.

“Sire, may I present Mistress Lireal, widow of Beran, a Lieutenant in Lord Boromir’s Company.”

“Welcome, Mistress Lireal, it is an honour to meet you,” said the King. Tamir brought forward a chair and set it between the King and Legolas and both stood as she took her place.

“Sire, Mistress Lireal has travelled a great distance so that she can recount to you her story. Will you hear her?” 

“Of course. Please proceed Mistress Lireal, take your time and we will hear you.”

Lireal told her story, much as she had recounted it to Faramir; her tears came when she got as far as the account of her daughter’s death and both King and Elf clasped her hands in support. When she finally finished speaking an uneasy, uncomfortable silence fell over those present. The King got up and raised her to her feet.

“Lireal, I thank you for your courage in coming here today. Your story is one of sadness and tragedy and yet I believe there is much of import that we haven’t yet heard. I trust that Lord Faramir will enlighten us. Tamir, would you please escort Mistress Lireal to the Royal apartments and ask the Queen to keep her company until we are finished here.” All those present got to their feet as they left.

“Lord Faramir, are you ready to continue,” asked the King. Faramir nodded.

“As you can imagine I was greatly angered and distressed to hear that the poor and needy of the city were suffering in the aftermath of the war. But what angered me most was that those hardships seem to have been exacerbated by actions and decisions taken by those very people who had the responsibility for the welfare of the people and for the administration of the city; by the King’s Council.” All eyes turned to the King, who sat in stony faced silence, the implications of the Steward’s accusations only too clear.

“Just what are you accusing the King’s Council of, My Lord,” sneered Lord Haralil. “It sounds perilously close to treason!”

“Sit Down.” The King’s voice dripped ice and venom. “Lord Faramir, continue.”

“I promised Lireal; I made a vow that I would get to the root of this iniquity, whatever the cost. And so I came back and I watched and I listened. I learned all that I could about the Council and the Councillors. I read every contract, examined every edict, and researched every undertaking sanctioned by the Council since before the death of my father. I watched you in action, saw how you did business, observed how our system of administration could be massaged and manipulated.” Faramir felt his own anger rising as he spoke. He forced him self to stop and to let go of the anger, he couldn’t afford to let emotions get the better of him. He started to pace; as he got close to the King he caught his eye and hoped that he would recognise his sorrow and his regret.

“It took only a few days to confirm Lireal’s story and to discover the number of people left destitute by the new statutes; widows, orphans, veterans who had given everything in our cause. I was sickened and disgusted; disgusted to know everything we had fought for could be wiped out with the stroke of a pen!”

“But as I looked more closely I knew that that wasn’t the worst of it. The properties used to re-house the families had been requisitioned in the name of the Council but the revenue from the extortionate rents charged never appeared in the treasury but went to a private land-lord. The contract for re-building the damaged homes and properties in the first and second levels was for more properties than even exist and not all of the properties were even in need of rebuilding, some only required repair. The treasury paid for quality materials but shoddy and second rate goods were supplied.  Everywhere I went I heard complaints about poor goods and high prices. Even prices for essential goods like bread were rising because of a shortage of grain, and yet I knew from before the coronation that the grain stores, though depleted, should be sufficient, especially as several shipments of grain had been sent from Dol Amroth. So I checked the granaries and the invoices of supply; there was no shortage of supply but distribution was being held back to over-inflate the price.”

He was pacing now; restlessly moving from one end of the table to the other, all the while unconsciously grinding his left thumb into the palm of his numb right hand.  As he passed close to Legolas the Elf reached out and briefly squeezed his arm in a gesture of support and encouragement.

“As a Commander, what I find unforgivable is that Ranger’s have died because of this corruption. That the equipment supplied to the men who are still defending our borders is inferior is bad enough but how can anyone justify the supply of spoiled rations and the absence of basic medicines. I have seen the requisitions and the letters from the Commanders begging for proper supply; I have also seen the invoices billing the treasury for services provided and the two just do not tally.”

“Everywhere I looked I found more evidence of deception and profiteering. The only one I couldn’t explain was who benefited from the new rules about access to the Healing houses. The Warden didn’t benefit except for a smaller workload; although he assures me that delaying access had caused more than just the death of Lireal’s daughter. The apothecaries gained financially but didn’t have the power to influence policy decisions; them I came across the name of the head of the Apothecaries Guild and it occurred to me that many of the Guilds had powerful and influential Masters.” His gaze raked around those seated at the table and several squirmed in their seats, unable to hide their discomfort.

“And so Gentlemen, I sat here through all of those tedious meetings; sat here and allowed you to sneer and treat me with contempt and now is the time of reckoning!”

To those watching, Faramir suddenly seemed to grow in stature and presence; as though the spirit of his esteemed ancestors had emerged amongst them. There was no doubting that the son of Denethor had emerged from his father’s shadow.

Faramir stepped back to his place at the table and pushed a pile of parchments towards his scribe. “These are copies of the contracts and statutes enacted by this Council that pertain to Civic administration and rebuilding. As of this moment all such contracts are declared null and void!” Faramir couldn’t do the deed himself with only one hand, so at his signal the scribe took the papers and tore them from top to bottom. A buzz of outrage hummed through the chamber but no one dared to protest out loud.

“As we speak officers are going to every business and merchant’s premises who supply goods or services to the city, they will be seizing all documents and records. We will be convening a board of enquiry that will investigate every contract, every detail, and all of those found guilty of maladministration, corruption or malpractice will be held to account.”

 Faramir was now functioning on pure adrenaline, his heart racing and his knees locked to keep himself upright. He needed to get this finished, not sure that he could sustain his composure in the face of this unrelenting pressure. He caught the King’s eye and Aragorn could see that he was struggling.

“As Steward I have no confidence in this council to represent the best interest of the people, or the nation. Between you, you have countless years of experience, you should be able to command the respect and approbation of the citizens but you have betrayed that trust and you have betrayed your King, giving him poor council and embroiling him in your treachery!” Faramir stalked around the table and placed a parchment in front of each of the eight Councillors.

“These are your letters of resignation; you will sign them and hand in your badges of office before you leave this room. If there is anyone here who feels that they have been ill-used this day you are free to reapply for your position.” Faramir was shaking now and black stars swirled at the fringes of his vision.

“You will remain in the city, under house arrest. Any attempt to leave the city or to obstruct or interfere with the investigation of these matters and I will personally see to it that you spend time as a guest of the King’s jailors!”

That was it.

The deed done for good or ill; now would come the reckoning.  If the King supported his proposals they could work together to rebuild the future; if he did not, Faramir faced exile or worse; there was only one penalty for treason.

 Faramir had to concentrate to keep his composure; with only the briefest glance around the table he pushed himself upright with the last of his strength.

“Sire, Gentlemen, this Council is hereby dissolved!”

Faramir used his left hand to raise his right hand to his heart in salute and turned and left the chamber. Only sharp Elven eyes noticed the smear of blood, a palm print on his tunic over his breast.

He managed to walk steadily until the door closed behind him.

TBC

A/N.  Did the boy prove himself? And what of the consequences!

Thank you to everyone for your support and encouragement.