Broad continues: the Castles
Dear Grandmamma,
Lovely rider of the thermals! Sagacious discerner of currents in the affairs of all beings!
I wasn’t able to get to Broad’s story-telling the next two evenings, so I asked Polly to take notes. This is what she gave me:
Even though the immediate threats posed by the castles were countered, and most of the remnant of courtiers were dispersed, the great strongholds remained a magnet for trouble. New aspirants to royalty infiltrated with some frequency, and had to be dislodged. Outlaws and bandits coveted them, and sometimes succeeded in moving in. Troops of knights errant, knights arrant, or knights erroneous rode up at inconvenient times and demanded admittance. It was clear that something had to be done.
Should they be torn down? How long would it take? How many workers would be needed, armed with what tools? Deconstruction would be a long, arduous and dangerous task The result, heaps of stones and rubble on the most scenic hilltops, would be distressing and probably still dangerous. Even if the dismantling were to be painstakingly slow, so that materials could be carted off and re-used, the process would be likely to cause uncivil dissent. Just discussng the possibility started arguments between those who thought their villages perfect as they were and those who felt certain perfection could be improved upon with the wholesale addition of erstwhile royal gilt and scrimshaw.
No, the people of the countryside agreed, demolition was not the answer. And while asking Nellie to cast bramble moats around all the castles did have its appeal, she was no more available to them than she had been to Rose’s parents. So the people decided the castles must be occupied, put use in some fashion that would not threaten their neighbours, and ideally in ways that would contribute to – rather than draining – the local economies. But how?
A solution for Brandyburg presented itself almost immediately. With the opening of borders and minds to accept differently abled and talented newcomers, a number of firms were making inquiries about setting up businesses in Über Celestia. One such inquiry, specifically regarding Brandyburg, was received from a communal group calling itself Silenus, Friends & Relations. The group had good reason to believe that the old Burg had been usurped by the now departed ducal upstarts, historically it had been home a distillery of such excellence that its products were legend. The group would undertake to clean up and restore the property, bring the vineyards back to health, and restart production of the wines and brandies that had once made the district famous. Furthermore, they would undertake to defend the property. All this would be at no cost to the countryside around Brandyburg. They merely required title to the castle and vineyards, to protect the substantial investment they would be making.
After some tedious negotiations regarding the duration of their tax-free status, a ninety-nine year lease was signed, and Silenus, Friends & Relations moved into Brandyburg.
The Silenus was a learned and dignified old gentleman whom everyone like on sight. However, the same could not be said about the Friends and Relations. The inhabitants of the erstwhile duchy had imagined monks and cultured brew masters – not maenads and satyrs. After the first few months – and the establishment of an Alcoholics Anonymous sect in town – the townsfolk began to consider even the Friends & Relations good neighbors. At any rate, the defence of Brandyburg was no longer an issue. Straying lambs, or little children, were returned to the village unharmed. Other trespassers were torn to pieces and used to fertilize the vineyards. One of the relations, a young lad who sometimes claimed to be related, on his mother’s side, to Hephaestus, developed a sideline in ploughshares made from fine Damascus steel, and amusing garden figures and urns made from twisted bits of armour.
The first vintages impressed the neighbours most favourably. When the first brandies were offered for sale any remaining doubts were laid to rest. Brandyburg was in good hands. Their castle problem had been solved, and solved brilliantly.
* * *
Thunderhall had none of the assets that had favoured Brandyburg’s conversion. It was a drafty old pile on a barren crag; there’d always been trouble with the water supply and the drains. No one wanted it; no one wanted to take responsibility for it. Even marauding bands of brigands didn’t stay long. They camped for a week or two, spied out their targets, mounted their raids, and retreated to cozier lairs.
It seemed that Thunderhall would have to be torn down.
When the people of the erstwhile kingdom of Thunderhallia met to discuss whether and how to proceed with demolition, an old man asked permission to address them. He was Silenus, he told them. He had a proposal for them. No, he told them sadly, not a proposal like the rescue of Brandyburg; unfortunately the Friends & Relations could manage only one such property. But if they agreed, it would solve a growing problem in Über Celestia, and it would offer an alternative to demolition.
Recently the Friends & Relations had put up its new signpost at Brandyburg, inviting customers to visit Silenus, Friends & Relations Wines and Spirits. Perhaps some of those present had seen the sign? Perhaps they would like to see the sign, and indeed stop and sample the already superior product?
However, that invitation was not why he was there that evening. He was there because the sign had inspired another kind of inquiry, one that the Friends & Relations could not satisfy. A number of spirits, ghosts and haunts of various kinds, roused by the recent unsettling events, were looking for a place to meet and gather with their own kind.
The Friends & Relations had to disappoint them; they only dealt in Spirits of the lively and full-bodied kind. They could not help the disembodied ones.
However, those present should consider, if no living being could be persuaded to take responsibility for Thunderhall, would it not make an excellent refuge for the living challenged?
It was certainly an interesting proposition.
The people of the erstwhile kingdom of Thunderhallia were nervous that they might be inviting chaos. It took some time, but finally a local medium was able to make contact with a discorporate entity among the departed. Ghosties, Ghoulies and Long-legged Beasties, Discorporated, agreed to take title to the castle. They claimed there was sufficient demand, especially among the recently exorcised, for an unpleasant place to unrest and recharge energies. The castle would make a perfect retirement home and drop-in centre for the uncanny.
GG&LLB, Disc., were willing to undertake to do their best not to bother the neighbours, except, perhaps, around All Hallows’ Eve when mild bothering could be considered part of the local ambience. Indeed, if any infestations of things that went bump, beep, clank or shuffle in the night disturbed the lives of the townsfolk, GG&LLB, Disc., could be called to relocate the disturbances. They did not make promises or offer guarantees; riding herd on spirits could be even more difficult than herding cats. But they would try.
As for roving bands of outlaws and adventurers, GG&LLB, Disc., could guarantee that none but the occasional plucky lad or lass on a quest for the meaning of fear would last a night in the castle environs.
When GG&LLB, Disc., pointed out that their relocation service could also be provided to neighbouring towns at a price sufficient to contribute nicely to the tax base, they had a deal. Thunderhall became the Haunted Castle. The countryside around it was the least haunted of any other real estate in Über Celestia – the erstwhile royal palace had become the residence of choice for the unquiet unreincarnated or afterlife-resistant.
* * *
