”Perhaps I should have been informed earlier.”
Parthadan waited for the Steward’s rebuke to disappear into the silence of the vast basilica. Neither man spoke in a while.
Pale moonlight filtered through the blue stained glass windows high above their heads. Only the stars and the moon could be seen through the blue-tinted glass. It was still early in the evening, but most of Minas Tirith had already buttoned up for the night. Only guards patrolled the Citadel at this hour.
Denethor switched the white rod with a golden knob from his left hand to his right. The white rod of the Stewards of Gondor was among Denethor’s usual paraphernalia, as was the white mantel. Denethor II, who had inherited these items from his father Ecthelion over two and a half decades ago, had long since understood the importance of appearances in the high halls of the White Tower. Appearance was power, and the Lord of the White Tower had to appear dignified, aloof and majestic at all times.
It had been another bad day for Parthadan, who now found himself in a difficult predicament. He had been protecting Delioron from the moment he had heard about the agent of Sauron in Imloth Melui. He had lied to both Denethor and Torthadir, the Captain of Gondor.
Somebody had let Torthadir know that one of Parthadan’s spies had not left Imloth Melui after a direct order from the Steward to pull all his agents out of there. In addition he had heard that the spy in question – Delioron – was now wanted as the main suspect for murder in Imloth Melui. And Parthadan had told both Torthadir and later Denethor that he had ordered Delioron out of Imloth Melui as requested, and that to his knowledge Delioron had traveled to his home in Belfalas, so he could not possibly be involved in any murder or other crimes committed in Imloth Melui.
And now Parthadan had to remember all his lies and keep them straight. For the first time he could relate to Delioron and feel what he must feel, being forced to lie and withhold information in order to survive. He had not told Torthadir about Demrîng, the letters he had given to Sauron’s emissaries about Demrîng’s made-up treason or Delioron’s meeting with Saruman.
After the meeting Delioron had returned to Minas Tirith to report to Parthadan, maintaining a low profile, always keeping in the shadows. A few days ago Delioron had left Minas Tirith to travel to Linhir, where he now suspected he would find Radawen and Romenstar’s diary. But this evening Parthadan had finally decided to tell the truth to Denethor. He knew that if he failed to convince the Steward of the necessity of his actions, both himself and Delioron would be doomed.
By now it was too late for Denethor to cancel anything Parthadan had done.
Denethor listened quietly as Parthadan spoke, toying with the white staff of Gondor, apparently unfazed by anything Parthadan said, his face aloof and unmoving like a cold marble statue. The truth was that in the past few years the Steward of Gondor had grown more and more distant to the various spymasters who provided him with reports about this and that. In his mind Denethor had accepted that Gondor was doomed, that the only thing to be done now was to delay Sauron’s inevitable victory for as long as possible, to have a few more good years for Gondor before darkness devoured them all. And all the spies and spymasters like Parthadan were a waste of resources and worse – they tarnished the honor and name of Gondor for no real gain.
”Right”, Denethor finally said, his face reflecting grim disapproval. ”So you have lied to me. You have defied my direct order to pull your spies out of Imloth Melui. What have you to say to your defense?”
”My Lord, I…”
”And that man of yours, this… Delioron”, Denethor interrupted. ”Long have I been concerned with the rogues and cutthroats you employ under the name of Gondor to commit whatever shady business and villainous deeds they can get away with. The name Delioron rings a bell. Wasn’t he also involved with that business in Bree last year? That case with pigeons and pigeon-handlers and my treasonous nephew Túrher conspiring with a band of northern ruffians?”
”Delioron is my best man”, Parthadan said. ”And speaking of Túrher, I don’t think the man who replaced him, Captain Torthadir, has been completely open with his…”
”You and your suspicious mind!” Denethor snapped. ”Torthadir explained everything to me well enough. He had – prior to his appointment as the Captain of Gondor – visited Lord Falaben in Ethir Anduin and uncovered an ongoing trade pact with Falaben and the Haradrim. A treasonous trade pact, of course, one that should have cost Falaben his head. But Ethir Anduin had benefited greatly from the pact, and Torthadir explained me how such an arrangement could benefit all of Gondor, and not just economically. Torthadir felt that should the Haradrim become dependent on Gondorian exports, it might in time make them back away from their alliance with Mordor and ally themselves with us instead. Granted, it does sound like a pipe dream, but I’ll take any opportunity to slow down Sauron’s plans at this stage – on the condition that both men accepted all responsibility of the arrangement and my name would never come up if something went wrong. If exposed, they would both be executed as traitors and there would be nothing I could do for them. They agreed, so I gave their arrangement my quiet blessing. I know how you like to stick your nose into everyone else’s business, Parthadan, but this was none of your business, and I had wished it to stay that way.”
”But why Falaben had sent his agents to Imloth Melui? Why did they attack Delioron?”
”We only have Delioron’s word of that. Curse your eyes, Parthadan! Don’t you understand that both the security of the realm and your own head are at stake here?”
”I don’t think it matters much, my Lord”, Parthadan said calmly. ”I think my days as the Warden of the Green are numbered.”
”Let’s not jump to hasty conclusions, Parthadan”, Denethor said in a milder tone of voice. ”I know that deep down you are a good man, a capable man, and I respect your efforts to help Gondor through these dark times. I understand that you have acted out of a misplaced sense of duty and loyalty to the realm. Because the arrangement between Torthadir, Falaben and the Haradrim doesn’t officially exist, I can’t really punish you for uncovering it either. But let’s make one thing clear. Your network of spies is to be abolished from this moment on. Do you understand me? I don’t ever want to hear about them again. It was never the official duty of the Warden of the Green to maintain a spy network. I already have Arodor’s outfit for that, and even that is one too many. I understand that you inherited your operation from your predecessor, but now it is time to finally put it to rest and return to your proper duties as the protector of Pelennor Fields. You still have years of service ahead of you, Parthadan. I can see you making it to the Warden of the Keys if you keep serving Gondor wisely. Wisely, Parthadan! That means no more lies or disobedience.”
”My Lord”, Parthadan said faintly. ”Thank you for your kindly words and your trust in my sense of duty and loyalty to the realm, but I will do no such thing. I will retire from my office once this case has been concluded. May my successor have enough wisdom to serve Gondor to your satisfaction!”
Denethor stifled a smile. The bitterness he heard in Parthadan’s voice amused him. Just who did this dry little man with long gray hair and sad eyes think he was? That spiderweb of spies and informants he had controlled for so long had fed Parthadan’s fantasies of importance – the fantasy of being somebody who could make a difference in the bigger scheme of things. But the reality was that even Denethor, the Lord of Gondor, could not do much to delay the inevitable end that was coming.
The end was coming soon for all of them. High officials who played childish games to make themselves feel important made no difference at all.
”All right, Parthadan, let me tell you what will happen next”, Denethor said. ”Falaben’s men will find the woman. Both her and your man Delioron are wanted for questioning for murder, so Falaben’s retainers can have every guard and soldier in every town and city in Gondor to their beck and call. They can’t hide forever, no matter where they are. And when your man is caught, he will have to face the full responsibility of his actions in the name of the law!”
”In the name of the law”, Parthadan repeated ambiguously.
”Where is he now?”
”I don’t know, my Lord.”
”Is that the truth?”
”Yes”, Parthadan said, looking straight at the Steward of Gondor.
They both knew he was lying.
