Of Pride and Power - 9. Chapter 9: “Use selective honesty and generosity to disarm a victim.”

There are Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes in a year, according to the old song, Seasons of Love. The passage of events passed faster than the montage from Rent, in either the movie or the play.

I could have fallen apart after the revelation that Jack had left me with so much to do, so much to live up to. I didn’t fall apart or turn inward like some characters from the stories that Jack read to me. Jack and I were not people who allowed despair to break us; even if we had to suffer alone. Jack did that by spending a lifetime in a medieval world doing what he could to help me. He left instructions for the fair folk to maintain this place, to continue their research as much as they could with limited numbers and resources, and to provide hope for something better. That is the essence of a partner. I can do no less for him than he did for me.

After getting over the shock, I began considering the current situation. John Dudley had taken power a year earlier and Edward Seymore was executed three years earlier than history recorded. While Jane Grey and Edward Seymore’s adult son, John Seymore, had taken refuge in a stronghold further south around Devon at Berry Pomeroy Castle. That left a major opening at the old stronghold of Somerset that belonged to the Duke of Somerset, the manor of Hatch Beauchamp. While not a fortified castle, the area was an administrative center for the territory of Somerset. As John Dudley was hotly pursuing the remaining Seymore troops and Lady Jane in Devon, seizing Somerset would be ideal. Without a Lord to run the territory, nor a royal decree to appoint a replacement, I used the time to establish myself.

Francis, Puck, and the triplets were joining my journey to Hatch Beauchamp. I wanted to shield the knowledge of the fair folk from common knowledge, and they had worked with me before with success. I had set the fair folk to tasks with ideas over the months I spent with them, the creation of nitric acid containment units, the creation of nitrocellulose as a component to double base gunpowder or “smokeless powder”, and ultimately, the first great creation of the fair folk, an iron five-shot .36 caliber revolver pistol. Due to the limitations of machine tools and smokeless powder, Francis was the first one armed with it as a prototype, followed later by the triplets as my primary bodyguards. Pippen, Prudence, and Peter would one day be called the “Three Pistoleers” due to this invention. Francis was used to hunting with modern flintlock guns of the 16^th century, including the handling of one-shot pistols, so he was ideal as the first user of a revolving pistol. With increased industrial output and additional supplies of raw materials from the Somerset region, I hoped we could equip a small army with these weapons and their upgraded rifle version for long-distance combat. The kick of the early revolver was stronger than the traditional front-loaded guns, but Francis became proficient with its use. Everyone else had bladed weapons as was customary during this era.

It took me a day to take over the entire Hatch Beauchamp manor and the surrounding village since the Seymore troops had left the region to reinforce the more fortified castle. In the following days, local village heads, mayors of towns, and several knights arrived at the manor to discuss the administration of Somerset with me. Under royal authority, despite my physical and gender attributes, I could call upon the power of “purveyance” and seizure of unoccupied lands, meaning I could take over areas of land either through payment or in the case of vacancy, such as execution for treason, redistribute land. While Edward VI or his regency council would nominally need to make those choices, neither John Dudley nor the council had enough time to assume office after the death of Edward Seymore along with the fact that his son had a small force in the southwest. I could in the meantime act as caretaker of the lands, building inroads and appointing local nobles, who would be loyal to me as their appointee. I was in luck as very few of Seymore’s former noble retainers in Somerset remained loyal to him, while many town and village leaders were receptive to my plans on building new bridges and waterway transit points for them to move their farmed goods.

By the end of my fifth month at Hatch Beauchamp, I had secured the lands of Somerset and some outlying areas in neighboring regions including the port of Bristol. Sixty-two nobles swore their allegiance to me, nominally granting me a fighting force of around two thousand three hundred forty-seven men and thirty settlements. I had expanded my influence through the trade of excess agricultural goods to neighboring regions, focusing northward to Chepstow, a town located on the border of Wales and England where a vast iron and coal mining operation had continued from the Roman era. The trade of minerals went through Gloucestershire’s main port of Bristol, which I knew from history would become the third largest city in the United Kingdom during the Industrial Revolution. Many factories would be built there due to its central location of wood from the forest of Dean, along with both coal and iron mines from South Wales. As a seaport for international trade, it would one day be worth more than the current treasury of gold. Getting control of Gloucestershire through trade and access to the resources of South Wales without being noticed was possible due to the instability. I didn’t industrialize the entire area to prevent suspicion, but by expanding transit systems and increasing linkages of urban centers, it would begin that process organically. When news reached London of the new trade center in western England and Wales, there was no way to stop what I had set in motion without expending major military resources.

If this were a strategy game, all of that would be an impressive accomplishment, but this situation was not a game. The nobles in the territories I now controlled turned on Edward Seymore when his power waned, they would have turned against me if the worst occurred. These were fair-weather allies, who only accepted my authority under the impression of royal authority rather than personal attachment. If I took the forces of the Somerset region into a true battle against any noble with means or charisma, my head would be offered on a silver platter.

That is why when an order from Edward VI by the hands of Duke of Northumberland, John Dudley, came in August, I was not surprised by the content. By order of the king, I was ordered as Royal caretaker of the Somerset lands to remove John Seymore and retrieve Lady Jane in the name of the Crown. Essentially, John Dudley along with my other foes in London wanted me to either die at the hands of John Seymore or expend all my forces to achieve a goal without costing them. I also suspect that Bishop Andrews, the Papal envoy, was likely keeping a close watch on how I conducted this campaign, trying to ascertain if I was using advanced future knowledge.

From the knowledge gathered by Francis and the tradesman of western England, John Seymore was a successful lord. He had built up what his father had given him around Devon, which was at this point also known as Devonshire, earning himself the title of Earl of Devonshire, which I knew would not have been created until fifty-four years later in my world. John owed his success to the rapid growth of his domain through an abundant supply of food. Devonshire had historically been a poor land with many hills and rough soil that did not provide high yields of food for its local inhabitants. Its saving grace was the abundance of copper and tin within their hill, which were mined and traded to meet their local needs. Without the advent of steam engine pumps and hydraulic mining, the production of these mines was also meager. Before John Seymore, many villages would suffer food shortages and starvation became common. If we were not nominally foes due to my history with the Seymore family, then I would have wanted to trade with his domain. John Dudley had probably seen all of this and knew John Seymore as a popular noble would be difficult to take down, despite his desires for Lady Jane Grey as a future puppet.

By this point through a new trade and transportation network, I was able to increase the production of various goods, including a stockpile of smokeless gunpowder weapons that could easily take down a medieval stronghold like Berry Pomeroy Castle, but it would reveal far too much of my military strength, along with the assistance of the fair folk. The fair folk were devoted to me, and I felt a kinship with them as well through Jack’s connection.

I summoned Francis for consultation, explaining what we were ordered to do and what we could not do or share.

Francis offered me an alternative, “My lord, we can minimize the loss of life through an informant we have serving as the leading landed farmer for John Seymore.”

I shook my head in disagreement, “I do not want to risk any fair folks in this undertaking. If your informant is discovered, it would mean certain death for them.”

“My lord, one person’s chance of death could protect what we have accomplished so far. Is it not worthwhile to take a small risk?”

I pondered the gains and rewards of one life, then asked, “Does he have any family or loved ones?”

Francis shook his head, “His father died a year ago and his mother died in childbirth. He has not had a lover for two years.”

I sighed accepting the potential sacrifice, “What is his name?”

“Caliban, my lord.”

Another Shakespearean reference came to mind, but this one was of a monster, born of a witch with carnal and physical desires. The words from Puck’s story about his former boyfriend began to connect with Francis's description.

I stared at him in amazement, “Was he Puck’s lover? The big and aggressive freckled boy. The name in my world references a character, who was the son of a witch and a human. He had some lesser magic connected with his mother concerning the weather. He was also a sort of a sexual deviant, who used sexual assault to fill his lonely existence.”

Francis raised his brows, “I am surprised that your world had chronicles on so many fair folk’s backgrounds and demeanors. You are correct that he was born to a gentry farmer and a fair folk woman, who held the knowledge of weather. Caliban has a lesser skill of knowing when certain seasons may bring more or less rain. He has also assaulted several people, including Puck, whom he had wooed. The human authorities have not passed judgment against him as few young females or males would make such an accusation. Puck’s actions against him have softened him and made him less inclined to be aggressive. He is still one of the fair folks and he has served our cause well despite not knowing all our secrets.”

Caliban was a can of worms that even modern literary scholars and psychologists could not easily define. Puck’s action with this boy in context made a lot of sense, but I wonder if the punishment was too lenient on someone with his pattern. I don’t like the idea that he got away with other crimes among human youths before Puck. The lack of victim allegations, since they would be as young as Puck, was too close to the many headlines of the modern world. I understood he was around my age as well, so being a horny teen might have played into his hyper-aggressive sexual tendencies However, there was an innate sense of danger and disgust that I could not eliminate in connection with him.

The acid in my stomach made me consider a worse scenario about Caliban’s character, I wondered if Puck’s action had merely sent him into hiding. His silence and apparent softer demeanor, despite being a hormonal teenager, demonstrated emotional control. Was he able to hide even the worst crimes now? I’ve watched the Dahmer Netflix series and, despite being LGBTQIA+, people like that are too dangerous to be allies. If Caliban had devolved, we needed to know. I explained my concerns to Francis and suggested he prepare countermeasures accordingly. Francis’ ability had to be directed to a dead individual to gather knowledge from them, but we had no subjects to research. As far as we know, my impression of Caliban may just be a supposition based on his emotional control and prior actions.

In terms of dealing with the Seymore forces, we decided on a plan that incorporated the help of Caliban. Caliban had met Puck and Francis, he knew nothing about the fair folk or the coven, so even if he captured or betrayed us, he would only be able to point to two people. Puck and Francis were known associates of mine. Francis being my ally, among other things, was a matter of fact for John Dudley and those with knowledge of the original history. Puck was an unknown quantity, but a single ripple was not enough to stir up actions. The triplets joined the expedition as my guards, armed with both traditional swords and hidden revolvers. In terms of fighting men, I asked for only one person representing each of the sixty-two nobles, who swore loyalty to me to join us.

We were within sight of Berry Pomeroy Castle within a day of travel from Hatch Beauchamp, our small force had not met any resistance on the way. Compared to what was likely a thousand men under John Seymore’s command, my small force must have seemed farcical.

Francis reached out to Caliban for help smuggling in and dousing one of Puck’s toxins into the drinking water supply to cause diarrhea to incapacitate the fighting force at Berry Pomeroy Castle. It was a simple plan that had worked before at Benington against Thomas Denny. Caliban knew Puck’s proficiency with toxins, so there was no question about the viability. One caveat that occurred was that Caliban wanted an audience with me to confirm that I was indeed the one leading Francis and Puck. I agreed to meet with Francis, Puck, and the triplets as escorts at his farm.

A medieval farm for a successful farmer should have included several large storage sheds, an animal stable, and a decent one-story home. However, what we saw was equivalent to the estate of a country noble with many acres of land and herds of animals. The house was two stories tall with a full bed of lilies hugging its entrance. Adjacent to the farmhouse, the fields of wheat and barley were beautiful with their golden hues in the sunlight. I noticed several farmhands busy harvesting and thrashing the stalks they gathered. Several of them greeted us and welcomed us to the farm.

In returning greetings, we exchanged some small talk and learned that they were newly hired farmhands selected from various villages to work here for extra income. In the fields near Caliban’s farmhouse, they ranged from twelve to sixteen in age, ten boys and five girls in composition. According to them, there were many fields around Devonshire managed by Caliban and they were just one group of village youths, who were selected by Caliban personally. I asked them how they got to do this work, and they claimed that the job of working in these fields was a lottery in their villages. In the past, their villages were starving and had few jobs, but John Seymore and Caliban have changed all that. Their villages would receive wagons of cured meat from Caliban every winter as appreciation for their good work. Some elders in the villages said the payments for work were so good that all former workers were able to buy land and leave their villages. With the wagons of meat and the prospect of jobs beyond the meager output of the mines, these youths thought they had an opportunity to improve their lives.

I looked around the farm and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but the claim that successful farming could generate so much wealth was too good to be true. I knew from the intelligence that John Seymore had made Devonshire thrive with food abundance, but there was a law of diminishing returns and overhead costs. Caliban as the independent farm administrator appeared to be living quite well based on the size of his home, so the numbers didn’t add up.

As my thoughts raced to find the secret of this land’s success, Caliban left a shed and greeted us. He was tall with a lot of freckles and long wild hair. He reminded me a little of Ambrose Dudley in terms of his gait, but Ambrose was exuberant and joyous despite his homely appearance, making everyone around him relax or accept his presence. Caliban’s tall and wild dashing appearance insisted everyone’s attention. His smirk upon seeing us made me wince with hesitation. There was a coldness in the man’s smile that he attempted to hide with a false warmth, which few could see pass without context from my world.

We exchanged greetings and Francis offered him the details of our plan as my mind wandered to where he came from.

I knew my ability allowed me to gain knowledge of subjects and objects after prolonged exposure, including the compositional makeup within. Sadly, this ability did not work on people within this world as my knowledge of individuals appeared linked to the history of my world, so I couldn’t get a reading of Caliban. Instead, I directed my ability to the various buildings around the farm. This technique was used during my tour of the Cadbury Hill bunker to estimate how many people could fit inside the bunker. I wanted to make sure my unease and impressions about Caliban were incorrect.

After several inconclusive attempts at the stable and several sheds, I focused on the shed that he came out of. There was a hole in the roof with smoke coming out, which would make it some kind of smokehouse. The foul smell from the chimney was foul, but most smokehouses for either curing meat or tanning leather would have such foul stench. Even without my ability, I knew from my own experiences living in a rural community that smoking meat would increase longevity and enhance flavor. My ability could detect a variety of meat cuts like X-ray or microwave imaging, but what I wanted to know was what animal they came from. When I got my answer, a cold sweat broke out on my back, but I held my words back. We entered his large two-story farmhouse, and he offered us tea, jerky, and bread. I made eye contact with Francis and the others, then shook my head at the food. I prayed that none of them would touch anything offered to them.

Connections began to occur in my mind, the fact that Caliban had a successful independent farm with such a macabre collection was not a coincidence. John Seymore was his patron and received a stable source of food that allowed him to expand Devonshire and amass great wealth from selling excess crops. In medieval times, peasants could work on a noble’s land, but they would be entitled to a portion of the crop yield or equivalent payment in money or goods. John Seymore had built a pyramid scheme, where he offered the false promise of food and jobs while killing the youths. To further add insult to injury, they offered the meat of the dead youths back to the villages they came from as signs of gratitude for their labor. It was Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett's scheme in a rural setting. With an excess of food and a cheap labor supply, the myth of Devonshire’s remarkable boom would entice others to come to these lands, perpetuating the evil plan. Some local villages should have known that something had gone awry with their youths after so many of them had never returned. However, a major noble’s assurances and protection could keep suspicion away from Caliban. Along with Caliban’s ability to detect rain patterns and sociopathic tendencies, he was the perfect co-conspirator. Even without knowing their final moments, based on Caliban’s prior interests, I can imagine what he did to the victims before they died.

After we returned to the encampment, I delivered the information I discovered about Caliban’s smokehouse and my analysis of the situation. Puck was especially shaken, I wrapped him in my arms and patted his back trying to reassure him that he could not have known and was safe with us. We couldn’t trust Caliban, so we had to assume that a Plan B would have to be made.

After a week passed, there was some news from the castle that many of the men had fallen ill with a disease. They offered to parlay with us at a neutral location, so we chose Caliban’s farm. We agreed that a farmhouse was neutral grounds for negotiations, where neither side had an advantage in theory.

The six of us met with John Seymore and five of his representatives outside the farmhouse, while Caliban greeted both groups with a bow. We both sent people inside the farmhouse to make sure there was no one else inside, which there wasn’t. I glanced over at various buildings around the farm, which I had used my ability on before during my first visit, so my reading of the interior composition could be done in a moment. My ability detected the hidden ambushers within the stable. Twelve armed men with daggers were hidden as I suspected.

Once we entered the farmhouse and sat at opposite ends of a table, Caliban spent about twenty minutes offering everyone a cup of tea. After the tea was served, I offered the proposal that John Seymore believed that I would make.

“Lord John Seymore, I ask you to lay down your arms and have your forces disband in the name of the Crown. Additionally, I demand that you release Lady Jane into my custody. If you agree to those terms, then you may retain Berry Pomeroy Castle with your noble title intact. If you should refuse or act against me in any way, I will show you no mercy.”

John Seymore laughed at the proposal, “Oh, the little lady thinks that she’s a man now after stealing my father’s holdings. I wonder how all your new knights and lords will think when I tell them about how you screamed in pleasure as my uncle seeded you. Perhaps, I should show them and make it a public spectacle for all of Somerset, Devon, and the rest of England to see.”

I stared at him with a cold fury, “No, I will reveal your crimes to the world Lord Seymore. From theft to murder to the act of forcing parents to eat their children, all of this will be known shortly. It is a pity that your death must be so quick and merciful.”

As I revealed these dark secrets, he screamed, “Come to me!”

After his words, the twelve-armed men charged into the farmhouse.

I gave one command as they began to enter the meeting room, “Fire!”

With those words, 4 revolvers were pulled out of their hidden holsters. The noise of the gunfire was deafening, but Francis and the triplets had gotten used to it through extensive training over the last six months. In a few minutes, nineteen men were bleeding or dead on the floor. John Seymore was the first to die with a headshot wound, to cause as much confusion as possible among his troops. With his abrupt death, his soldiers surrounding us panicked as the bullets pierced them before they could swing or throw their daggers. As the old saying went “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

In the ensuing gunfight, Caliban was shot in the chest by Francis. He was coughing up blood on the floor, pleading.

“Mer…Mer…Mercy,” he gasped between the gurgles of blood.

As Francis and the others reloaded to deliver the killing blows, I walked over to Caliban.

I told him, “I know about what you have in the smoke shed. I know about the boys and girls that you offered false hope and murdered. I know what you did to them. While I do not believe in divine judgment, I will punish you in this world. You are dying slowly of blood loss. Your lungs are collapsing from the bullet Francis delivered. I want your last thought in this life to be the faces of all your victims, all the young lives you snuffed out for your sick pleasures. Let them keep you company in the void that is death.”

I stood there with Puck close to my side watching as Caliban breathed his last breath, seeing the agony and pain in his expression. He pleaded for his life, cried tears, and wailed with blood flooding his mouth. However, neither of us saw remorse in Caliban at the end. Some men deserved to die, not because they are your enemies or they held ideals opposed to yours, but the simple fact that they cannot show remorse. Beings without conscience cease to be life, they are a virus that must be eliminated with the strongest vaccine.

After the altercation, Francis and the triplets cleaned the scene of bullet casings and removed the shells from the body. We made it appear that these men died of normal stab wounds. If history had followed normal course, it would be a century before the science of forensics became a major area of study in Europe after receiving various materials from Chinese and Islamic sources such as Song Ci, “Cases of Injustice Rectified”. Concepts of blood spatter analysis, fingerprinting, and postmortem versus premortem punctures were beyond even the most educated members of English society. Thus, all we needed to do was create a simple staged scene.

I called the noble representatives that I brought with me from Somerset to come over to the farm. I revealed to them and the farmhands who were still working the fields the horrors hidden within the farm and the bodies of John Seymore along with those who ambushed us. A few of them fainted upon the sight of the dried slabs of human flesh in the smokehouse.

I sent the farmhands back to their villages to spread the word of what had occurred and seek out the families of former farmhands from prior summers to identify any victims. I sent the nobles in my entourage to return to their lands and reveal what John Seymore had done. They were all shaken by fear at the grisly discoveries, but none of them refused my command. No military was needed to complete the task of removing the Seymore family’s power when propaganda could do the work.

Word spread of what was found at Caliban’s farm, John Seymore’s involvement, and how heroically Lord Eli had ended this foul enterprise. Some guards and servants at Berry Pomeroy Castle were outraged at the claims, but when they saw what was hidden within a farm that supplied their food stores, they shook with fear and vomited violently to purge themselves. Soon, the Seymore loyalists began to surrender to me, along with various villages, towns, and cities throughout southwestern England and Wales. In their eyes, I had ceased being the misshapen human creature with royal blood. Instead, I was a truly noble lord who had their best interests and could be their ruler. The survivors of John Seymore and Caliban’s scheme became my second group of followers. Numbering around five thousand five hundred four youths in total from across the region of Devonshire, they vowed their lives to me.

Ironic that in my history, the changes to the Book of Common Prayer in 1549 would have caused a failed rebellion to stir throughout the regions of Devon and Cornwall, where the total death toll was around five thousand five hundred people. Whether they would have died due to opposition to cost-cutting religious reforms or at the hands of a monster like Caliban, these people were destined to die. Yet by the beginning of 1550, they remained alive and in my service. Instead of being ripped apart by sectarian violence, the region was consolidated under my rule.

That was how I gained my first foothold.