The Ardoon King Read online

  Chapter 80: A Solemn Oath

  “Hi Wily,” said Ben, stepping into the attorney’s office.

  “Anax,” greeted the man. The two shook hands.

  “What’s up?”

  The plumpish Nisirtu motioned for the king to take a chair. He did the same, behind his desk, and said, “I won’t take but a moment of your time, Ben.” It was the king’s standing order that the man refrain from calling him “anax” after a handshake.

  Barnum pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and handed it to him. It was a white and smallish, with a ragged edge on one side. In his thick Scottish accident, the attorney said, “I need to confirm this is your signature.”

  Ben looked at the paper, concerned, but seeing what it was, he managed. “Yes, that’s mine.”

  “Annasa Fiela’s signature is authentic?”

  “That’s right. How did you get this?”

  “Samuel Richards gave it to me. He said he pretended to marry you aboard the Anzu, and that he had you sign this. Is that correct?”

  Ben nodded. “Well, we signed it later. About two hours after our ‘Viking’ marriage ceremony. Which I’m still not overly pleased with. My buddies back in Wisconsin are still spinning in their graves.”

  “Ah, yes.” Barnum replied. He was being polite. He clearly had no idea what the king was talking about.

  “You know he’s not an ordained anything, right?” asked Ben.

  Barnum nodded. “Yes, he was very forthright about that. He’s neither a religious nor judicial official. I’m afraid he hasn’t much value when it comes to officiating marriage ceremonies. He came to my office the night before he left Steepleguard, on his way to Nebraska, and said he needed a blank Colorado marriage certificate. He didn’t say why, and I didn’t care. He is Ardoon, after all. But he is a friend of yours, so I obliged him.”

  “He’s something of a character.”

  Barnum frowned. “Yes, he was in quite a state. He was quite rushed, almost panicked, so I gave him this. I tore it straight from one of my law books. Only copy in existence, at least here at Steepleguard. I’ll need to replace that book. I believe it has a county code of some kind on the back of it. Perhaps useless, but I like to have a complete law library.”

  Ben flipped the sheet of paper over. It did have a county code on the back of it. He handed the book excerpt back to Barnum. “Look, Wily, it’s important that you not tell Fiela the truth. I mean, she knows the marriage was a hoax. She set it up. But she doesn’t know that I know. Or maybe she does, but she likes to pretend I don’t know.” He splayed his hands. “In any event, it makes her happy.”

  The attorney retrieved the excerpt. “Tell me, Ben. If you could find an official to preside over a ‘real’ marriage, would you do it again? Actually marry Fiela, in an Ardoon way? Do you think that still matters, now that the world has collapsed? Technically, would you consider such a marriage valid? What would be the point?”

  Ben considered that. “So far as I’m concerned, Colorado is still a state. A dead state, yeah. Like all the rest. But the United States wasn’t defeated in a war. It didn’t surrender. Its people just…vaporized.”

  The other man gave him a hard look. “Are the laws of the state still valid, though?” He waved a hand dismissively, as if the question were both silly and rhetorical. “Surely not.”

  Ben reclined in his chair and crossed his legs. “I’ve thought about that a lot, actually. I once talked to Sam about what I’d do if we encountered an Ardoon with legitimate title to a piece of land. Would we ignore the title and take the person’s land to make room for a settlement?” He shook his head. “I know I’m going to be opposed on this, but my answer is ‘no.’ I won’t allow it. We’ll just have to find another hunk of land for the affected noble. There’s plenty available, after all.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point is that if I’m willing to view an old state title to a piece of land as valid, I’m effectively saying that all the old laws are valid, to some degree. We’ll have to play it by ear, of course. Some laws will make more sense than others. But I don’t see any point in starting over from scratch.”

  Barnum nodded. “I see. Back to my original question: what if we would locate a person who could marry you? An individual who could have legally done so before the collapse?”

  Ben arched a brow. “Have you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Ben pinched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “Your attorneys never give a man a straight answer.” He paused only a second before opening his eyes and nodding. “If your question is whether I’d marry Fiela – yes.”

  “I see,” said Barnum. He blew out a loud breath and shook his head. He seemed very unhappy. “Then congratulations are in order. You’re married.”

  Ben’s face froze, with the exception of his eyelids, which blinked rapidly. “What?”

  Barnum said, “Colorado is – or was – one of the few states that allow ‘self-solemnization.’ You don’t need a priest or official present. All you have to do,” he said, pointing at the sheet of paper, “is sign on the dotted line.”

  Ben’s shock was enduring. “But…wait, what? Self-solemnization? Are you kidding me?”

  “No, lad. I’d not kid about something like that. You are the king. You have said the Colorado marriage laws remain in effect. You signed the certificate, as did Annasa Fiela. You have both self-solemnized. You’re married.”

  Before Ben could recover, Barnum leaned across his desk, his expression pained. “I would have counseled you against this. I will hide this certificate away. You must tell Sam never to speak of it and you must convince both he and Fiela that the document is invalid should they ever mention it. I am most worried about Sam.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it unlikely that the Nisirtu here have any concept of what Colorado law is with regard to marriage. Yet the Ardoon residing here might. In fact, I think it likely that at least a few know about self-solemnization. Some may have been married in that fashion. If Sam were to tell one of them what he did, we’d be in a very tight spot. Word would spread. The consequences would be dire.”

  “What consequences?”

  “You are now, by Ardoon standards, married only to Fiela. You were born Ardoon and most Nisirtu here know that you retain Ardoon values. Thus, it will be perceived that you value your Ardoon marriage more highly than your Nisirtu marriages. It could be perceived that your view your Nisirtu marriages as invalid altogether. You don’t think Lilian will be happy about that, do you? Or her Lilies?”

  Ben did understand. “No, she wouldn’t.” He pondered this before saying, “Well, if worst came to worst, I could self-solemnize with her, right? Actually, it would be best if we just did that in advance, to cover our bases. We’ll have to find another copy of-”

  Barnum was shaking his head.

  Ben squinted at the man. “Why not?”

  The attorney poked at the document. “You say you are married according to Colorado law.”

  “Right. So?”

  “I’m hardly an expert, but I doubt if the state of Colorado recognizes polygamous marriage.”

  “Oh,” said Ben. “Good point.” Then reality hit him square in the face. “Oh, shit.”

  “Yes, lad. Shit. You have just disowned Lilian, and there will be hell to pay if anyone learns what you’ve done.”