*****
News came to Ernscar, among other things, about two of Justin’s relatives, both on reasonably good terms with Robert but for years at odds with each other over a disputed claim to inheritance. A tavern brawl between some of their retainers had developed into something more serious, resulting in several fairly severe injuries, including broken limbs and stab wounds that would take weeks to heal. Each side naturally blamed the other for starting the affray, each lord demanded compensation from the other, each refused to pay, and the incident looked like escalating into armed conflict. “Honestly!” exploded Justin. “Some people should never be let out of the nursery. I could cheerfully bang their heads together. As if we didn’t have quite enough trouble from a threat of war without our friends and relations fighting each other!”
“What set them off?” asked Robert. “Not in this particular squabble, I mean, but in the first place? I only heard that they were always at each other’s throats.”
“It’s really quite trivial - a small manor house that I inherited. Nothing compared with the estates that they have already. It’s entailed, and one or other of these two would get it according to the legal provisions for the possessor’s dying without lawful male issue, but they aren’t sure which. The legitimacy of the senior line is disputed, just plausibly enough for no one to predict how a judgement between them would go if it went to court. So neither of them will risk litigation. Between ourselves, I’ve been trying to find ways of disqualifying both of them. But for the insistence on ‘lawful’ issue I might have been tempted to sire a bastard myself just to avoid the whole wretched problem.”
“Well, I’ve never heard that excuse before. Full marks for novelty if not for virtue, my old friend! Let’s see; the first might have been a girl, and so might the second, so perhaps you should take half a dozen mistresses to be on the safe side.”
“All right, all right, have your little joke. It would be quite amusing in other circumstances. Have you any more serious suggestions?”
“Well, for a start, your ingenious little scheme wouldn’t have worked anyway, because if illegitimacy were no bar the question wouldn’t have arisen. But the crucial point seems to be ‘lawful issue.’ I’m no expert on the law, but doesn’t formal adoption confer all the legal privileges of an actual son?”
“I’m not sure how it would bear on the entail. But even if it didn’t eventually stand in law, it would at least get those two idiots on the same side to fight it, and for the time being that might be good enough. Hm. Worth thinking about.”
“Good, because I’ve no other ideas. And it’s got to be quick, and it’s got be made known, at least to the said idiots. One way might be to install your new-found heir and his family in the manor itself. Is there a sitting tenant, by the way?”
“A steward. That’s no problem.”
“Good. So all we need is to choose your son.”
“There’s no option. In the time we have, it can only be Nicholas.”
“A bit young for the part, isn’t he? And no family, not even a wife.”
“There’s nothing we can do about his age. A wife is another matter.”
“Oh, come off it, Justin. I may be fairly ruthless at times, and I know these things are essentially matters of convenience, but even I wouldn’t force a man besotted with one woman into marriage to another. Altogether too cruel all round.”
“Actually, Robert, I think you’re quite a romantic on the quiet.”
“Justin, I don’t like that crafty look in your eye. I’ve seen it before, and it usually bodes trouble.”
“Does it, indeed? Well, how about this? You’ve just wished a son on me. Allow me to return the compliment with a daughter.”
“What!!?”
“Simple. I adopt Nicholas; you adopt Alison. That gets over the question of rank, and I gather that Mistress Alison is more than a match for some of our high-born ladies in sense and decorum. You’ll have to square it with Master Thomas, of course, but explain that it’s purely a legal fiction, except that you’ll be providing the dowry for her wedding - I gather the lady is willing enough …”
“Ah yes, the dowry. I knew there’d be a snag somewhere.”
“Don’t worry, I shan’t be unduly demanding in that respect.”
“Too kind!”
“Anyway, to resume. I’m sure from what I hear of Tom that on those conditions he won’t object, so announce the wedding, invite the two idiots at the root of all the trouble - you never know, on such an occasion they might actually be induced to talk to each other like civilised gentlemen instead of quarrelsome schoolboys - and hey presto! The problem’s solved, for the time being. And sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”