PUTER (III)
Puter dragged his nails across the surface of his desk as he waited for his guest to arrive. He scanned the City Guard report that lay in front of him and pursed his lips and blew. Arch-Cognatus Han Turbert – otherwise known as Turbert the Pervert – had been caught a number of times in weird and very compromising situations. He really was the antithesis of what the Familists were meant to represent. He was in no way pure of heart, his loyalty to his oaths and the Family was questionable, and he most certainly was not one for acts of piety and charity. Turbert was a pig who enjoyed rolling about in his own filth. And strangely, this pig seemed to like getting caught in whatever debauched activity he was committing. The other Committee members and the Court tolerated his behaviours, so long as he kept up with his general duties. However, the FAX from the Court had made it clear that change was in the air. And for Puter, change meant opportunity…
Puter’s trail of thought was interrupted by the opening of his office doors. Joob popped his head in. “Ready, Sir?”
Puter nodded, pulled his hands off the desk, and got up.
A bespectacled grey-haired short man with thin eyes, wearing the purple robes of the Arch-Cognati, entered the room.
“Your Magnificence,” Puter said, and he rushed over before dropping to his knees. Turbert reached out his hand and Puter grabbed it and kissed the ring on his finger.
“May the Sacred Family’s splendour fill the void of your existence with love and purpose,” Turbert said.
“And yours, your Magnificence,” Puter said with his eyes closed.
Puter straightened and looked over at Joob. “Some refreshments for his Magnificence?”
“Tea?” Joob said.
“Perhaps you have something with a little more bite?” Turbert said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, tea is fine,” Puter said. “Thank you Joob.”
Turbert’s face dropped.
“Please, be seated, your Magnificence.” Puter gestured to the chair opposite his and the Arch-Cognatus sat down. He touched the fingertips of both hands together and frowned in that sanctimonious way only the Cognati could. The sense of superiority emanating from across the desk was astounding; Puter could feel it like heat from a fireplace.
It was Turbert who spoke first. “Before we start, I must thank you for your swift management of the inconvenience caused by the City Guards.”
“Inconvenience?” Puter repeated.
“Yes, in regard to their excessive force and false imprisonment the other night.”
“False imprisonment?” Puter said, trying to maintain a professional demeanour. “They found you drunk and naked, riding a pig.”
Turbert cleared his throat. “That’s a complete exaggeration. You know as well as I that such behaviour is not accepted among the Familists. I was a little unwell and running a fever, so while out for a walk, I removed some of my robes. I had also taken some halbut root for a sore throat, which may have affected my balance and when the City Guards found me, I had toppled over a nearby pig.”
“A nearby pig? Right. An exaggeration, was it?” Puter’s eyes moved to the report that lay in front of him. “But this isn’t the first time, is it, your Magnificence? Last Quintilus, you were found dressed like a baby on the roof of a brothel. The arresting City Guard said your face was smeared in a white substance, which he hoped was milk. In Saptumber, you were discovered in the docks, half conscious and mumbling something about being the Raven Lord – all while covered from head to toe in black feathers – apart from your posterior which was fully exposed. Then there was the Festival of the Hungry Cousin, when they found you chained to a known lady of disrepute in the market, and you had your member stuck in a block of cheese.”
Puter turned the paper over and examined the other side. “This list goes on and on. You’re not telling me each one of these incidents was an exaggeration, are you?”
Turbert crossed his arms and shrugged. “Honestly, what can a man do? My faith takes a lot of dedication and there are many pressures. I must blow off a little steam occasionally. Surely you can understand, Meyor?”
“Blow off a little steam?” Puter said, eyebrows raised. “There are cooking pots filled with boiling water that let off less steam than you.”
“What harm does it cause? The Committee understand that my extracurricular activities help me keep my focus. And the Court certainly never bats an eyelid.”
Puter sat back in his chair. “The Rix – my cousin – tolerates certain behaviours so long as it doesn’t affect the status quo. But, your Magnificence, the times are changing. War is looming in the North, and tension is mounting across the realm. In Trintan, the role of the Cognati is more important than ever. We need you and the other leaders to help the people maintain their spiritual obligations. Keep them ever-mindful of the Sacred Father’s judgement and afraid of the Wicked Uncle’s damnation. They must live their lives with a clear conscience. A religious, Sacred Family-fearing people are a peaceful people; a people less likely to rise against the government. But that means leading by example. You, your Magnificence, must be the moral compass by which the common folk map their spiritual journeys. Not only must you avoid further incidents, but your behaviour must also be exemplary. Beyond reproach.”
“Beyond reproach? How dare you, Sir. I am a leader of the Faith. I represent Domonostra and the Rix in this silly little place. You cannot dictate to me how I behave and what I do. You may be the Rix’s cousin, but my connections to your family go way back, as well you know. Your uncle – the late Rix – and I, were childhood friends. His son would surely not be happy to hear you speak to me like this.”
“Your Magnificence, the Rix’s focus is on the wars in the East, which are quickly emptying the treasury’s coffers. There’s no way the government can sustain conflict on multiple fronts. If an uprising does start in the North, it will almost certainly spread to this region unless we do something. You know as well as I, the resentment and disdain that many here have towards the Rix. And if they do rise up, how long do you think the Committee would last? They see the Cognati and the Rix’s Court as twines of the same rope. There are plenty here who still pine for the old ways and the old gods. If they took over, they would send all the Cognati and inhabitants of the Prime Domol to Moros. And you, your Magnificence, with your reputation, would be on the first boat to the Island of Death.”
Turbert dropped his head and breathed loudly through his nostrils. Puter had him, he thought, and he rubbed his hands together.
“So… What is it? What exactly do you want from me?” Turbert spoke slowly, grudgingly. “To keep a low profile and cut down on my hobbies?”
“Your Magnificence, you need to stop your hobbies altogether.” Puter tapped the paper document on his desk.
“Stop?” Turbert looked alarmed.
“Also, we have a more specific request. We want you to get out among the people and spread the word of the Familists. Perhaps some time away from the stresses of the city might be good for you as well.”
“Among the people?” He repeated with a curled lip. “Where to exactly?”
“Cagwynt.” Puter got up and turned to look out the window. “A small town on the edge of the Gardelas. Home to paupers and bush farmers. We need you to go there and make them more fearful of the Familists. Charge a few with sinsanguity. Send them to Moros or carry out some public executions. Up to you. Remind them that devotion to the Sacred Family is the only way to guarantee peace in this life and the next.”
“And this will help us to keep conflict at bay?” He sat up and crossed his arms.
“A scared population is a devoted population,” Puter said, and he turned around and put his hands on his hips. “Yes, I believe it will. No matter what happens in the North, so long as we are stringent here, then I’m confident we can maintain control. The Rix is also sending us more troops. That’ll help, but it’s preferable to avoid the fighting altogether if we can. Fear will do that for us. So our plan is better.”
Turbert sighed. “If you say so… And when do you propose I go to this Cagwynt place?”
“Immediately. By this evening, at the very least. I shall have a carriage ready for you…”
“But the rest of the Committee are unavailable to consult with before my departure…” Turbert’s worried expression was a feast for Puter’s eyes.
“That’s fine. Let me brief them tomorrow.” Puter turned his head. “Joob!”
Joob’s head appeared at the door. “Yes, Sir?”
“Have a carriage with four of the swiftest horses in Trintan ready to leave immediately.” Puter tried to mask the enthusiasm in his voice as he instructed his assistant.
“Very well, Sir. Do you still want the tea?”
“Bring the pot and a single cup. His Magnificence won’t be staying – he wishes to be at the Domol in Cagwynt before nightfall.”
“Right you are, Sir.”
The sense of superiority from the old man had dissipated, while Puter’s spirits were greatly raised, and for once he felt hopeful.
