Chapter 280: To Become The Heir
Sweat rolled down between Loman’s shoulder blades and his body trembled as his father’s powerful presence rolled over him like a landslide. For as long as he’d held fast to his decision to dedicate his life to his church, there had never been a reason for the two to come into conflict with each other.
Certainly, there had been some spirited conversations at the family dinner table when a younger Loman had uncritically repeated things he’d learned at the temple but there had never been any heat in his father’s words when they traded ideas between the salad and main courses.
Now, however, for the first time, he felt himself on the receiving end of his father’s full force of will and his decades of accumulated wisdom and he realized that he’d badly misunderstood his father’s gentle and accepting nature. His father accepted because nothing Loman said or did ever threatened him. Now that Loman had chosen to launch an offensive, his father’s counterattack left him with little room to maneuver.
"Of course," Loman said, trying to regain his composure in the face of his father’s intensity. "I will always listen to Father’s wisdom."
"Smart lad," his father said, stretching out his hand to top off his son’s cup of wine. "Let me get the nastiness out of the way first. Five years ago, if you’d approached me with a desire to become my successor, I would have been delighted. You showed a great deal of promise, more than your brother and I thought you would have made a better ruler than he would."
"Unfortunately, that time has passed," Bors said, ruthlessly stomping on the light of pride that had begun to shine in his son’s eyes. "You wasted five years, and you can’t get them back. I let you enter the Temple because you said you wanted to and because your mother..." The Marquis abruptly stopped, forcing back the memories that threatened to spill forth when he thought of his departed wife.
"Your mother always supported you in following your faith," he said. "If she had still been with us, I might have argued but, I suppose I failed you just as you failed me when I let you do what you wanted."
"Father, I," Loman started, only for his father to cut him off once again. Clearly, the wine was starting to affect his father’s mood but his mind was still as sharp as ever.
"I said you listen and you will listen," Bors said, tapping firmly on the desk. "During the past five years, what have you done to show the people you can rule and what has your brother done with those years?"
"Your brother might be riding a lame horse, Loman," Bors said. "But yours is still in the stable. He’s way out in front with battle honors, a public wedding to a beautiful noblewoman who captivated the people with stories of years spent in romantic courtship, and he’s forming alliances with everyone from the merchant guilds of Blackwell County to the Dunn family of all people," Bors said, shaking his head in amazement at how his least talented son had managed to court the thorniest of baronies in Lothian March.
"I’ve done much to help the people, Father," Loman insisted. "We feed more of the poor, heal more of the sick, clothe more of the needy. The temple’s doors are open wider than they’ve ever been and the pews are filled at every service. I have been there before the people, and beside them, every day for all these years."