Respectant

by Florian Armaselu

  Chapter 6 – Saliné

  “Sebastos,” Dolgan murmured, and pressed two fingers of his right hand over two on his left – the forefinger and middle. They formed a cross, the sailor’s sign of gratitude to Fate at the end of a dangerous voyage. The harbor was not yet in sight but, white with snow, the hazy hints of mountain peaks behind it melted in the distance into the light blue sky. He had seen them a hundred times and more, and he knew that before noon, he would be able to drink his favorite wine in the White Ship Inn. He deserved it. And he had a story to write in the Jurnos. His elder son and the many sons who came after him would read his story, and they would remember him, as much as Nicos, the Io Capitan who saw the Misty Island and survived, was remembered. I have justified my title of Io Capitan. A new island which was not shown even on the oldest maps, and he had discovered it. Erie, as its inhabitants named it, was a paradise of lush green. Now that the danger was only a memory, he could afford to be proud and enjoy his adventure. Such a Mother Storm, and I lost only three men.

  He was already fretting when the ship moored in the harbor, but he had to wait patiently until everything was unloaded, including the two passengers who he, several times, considered throwing into the water, as an offering to calm the storm. Nastos, the sailors called such horrible specimens. When all was done, he bowed to the lady, which he liked, saluted the soldiers and turned his back to the nastos, ignoring them; he knew well that Aron wanted to speak with him.

  Recognizing the snub, Aron cursed coarsely, but Dolgan walked away, his mind already set on the good wine at the inn. In a burst of rage, Aron stepped forward, ready to hit the captain from behind. He stopped at the last moment. It was not just that he had fewer men, though they were trained soldiers; it was also that his head was still bandaged to cover the wounds from when he rolled unconscious on the floor of the cabin. That, and the bandage on his left hand, where three fingers were missing, eaten by rats.

  “Stay away from the captain, rat-shit,” one of the sailors whispered under his breath. While Dolgan used the derogatory term nastos term for Aron, the sailors called him rat-shit, a reminder of where his fingers had vanished; when an animal eats, it also discharges.

  Aron boiled inside, but wisely chose to pretend he hadn’t heard the sailor.

  It did not take long for Guiscard, the warden of Castis, to find Aron and his people. The wind was strong on the shore, and they stood huddled together, almost hidden by the remaining four horses. Three of the animals had died during the first storm, and the others had been left on Erie Island. The islanders had taken them in payment for food and repairs. They did not use money on Erie. The last four, belonging to Aron, Bucur, Saliné and the Spatar, were the best. While Aron was thinking about money, Saliné had a different attachment; her mare had been a gift from Codrin. The horses were thin and weak now, and not ready to ride, but at least they had survived. It was a less than three days sail from Rochil, and Dolgan had expected to land in Sebastos well before the autumn equinox. Instead, the ship arrived two weeks after it. Aron and his people looked miserable, the memories of the nightmare on the sea still reflected in their eyes. The emptiness of their stomachs was clear too. Just when things seemed to be turning out well again, a new storm had hit them, three days ago. It was smaller, a mermaid’s breath as the crew called it, but that did not save them from seasickness. They also looked different from the locals, obviously from the north, tall and blond.

  “Sir Bernier, I assume,” Guiscard, the warden said and bowed briefly to Aron. He was not a tall man, but that was common enough in the south: people here were shorter, their skin had an olive tan and their hair was black. He was not tall, perhaps, but there was a not so hidden warning in his appearance; the warden was a man few dared to cross. “I am Guiscard, your warden in Castis. My lady,” he bowed to Saliné. “Castis will shine because of your presence.”

  “Thank you, Lord Guiscard.” Saliné curtsied. “You are most kind.”

  “I am no lord, my lady, just a simple warden. Please follow me.” With an ample gesture of his right arm, he included everyone in the invitation.

  Trying to hide his tracks from the Circle, Aron had used his second name in his correspondence with the warden. While he was the Knight of Seged, the main part of his wife’s dowry, which was adjacent to Seged, was called Silon. In Castis, he was now known as Bernier, Knight of Silon. It was good choice, as the people of Castis were under the protection of Silon, and they did not ask many questions. Bucur would also use his second name, Claudin, and for Saliné, Bucur had played a game, and called her Vio. The servants and soldiers already in Castis were already aware of the new names, as were the soldiers who accompanied them. Aron knew that his cover would not survive for long; money could buy his men, and betray his secret, but just a year would give him enough time for more preparation, and Saliné would be pregnant by then.

  “Yes, I am he,” Aron said, his voice weaker than he would have liked to acknowledge. He coughed, but that did brought no improvement. “We are ready... We will be ready to travel tomorrow. Find us a good inn. And we need more horses. How far is Castis from here?”

  “Four days, more or less. In half a day, we arrive at the mountains and, from there, the road will not be easy. You can see them from here.” He half turned and pointed at the white peaks lined up to the south. “The White Ship Inn will take you in. The innkeeper is a friend of mine.”

  “If it’s hard going we will need ten horses.”

  Sebastos was a small town, sandwiched between sea and mountains. For all his efforts, in three days, Guiscard could find only five horses, and the price made Aron pull at his hair. At least both men and horses were in good shape by then. Still, some men had to go on foot, and that delayed them even more. The road to Castis took more than a week, and it was a mid-autumn when their new fortified house came into sight, high in the mountains.

  The mountain road turned again on the steep curve, but when they rounded it, a valley lay before them, and a village built alongside a narrow stream.

  “That’s Lower Valis, Sir,” the warden said. “The village belongs to you.”

  “It doesn’t look much.” Aron cupped his hand over his brows to avoid the glare of the strong southern sun.

  “There are twenty-seven houses. That’s a good number for a mountain village. The next village, Upper Valis, is larger, it has thirty-five houses.”

  “You know my lands well.”

  “Well, sir, it’s not so hard to count up to thirty-five,” the warden smiled thinly. And with only two villages... He kept that thought to himself.

  “Do they have a church?”

  “There is one in Upper. Usually we call the villages Upper and Lower. It’s easier.”

  “Is it consecrated to Fate?”

  “We all worship Fate north of the mountains, Sir. Only the savages in the south are pagans.”

  “What do they worship there?”

  “Who really knows, Sir? Goats, maybe,” the warden said and Aron laughed, pushing his horse on faster.

  There was a crossroads between the villages, and as they reached it Saliné urged her horse on until she caught up with Guiscard, some twenty paces away from all the others in the group. On their long trip, he had been friendly, and even brought her berries, making Bucur frown. “Where does this road lead?” she asked, pointing at the one in front of them – they were turning right for Castis.

  “Laurden, my lady. On the maps it looks close, but it takes almost three days to get there, the road is sinuous and not easy. Two days more and you are in Tolosa. The road to the Duchy is longer, but also easier. If you are willing to learn more, I will tell you later.” He kept his word, and by the time she retired to her room, Saliné knew a good deal more about the area. She did not just ask about the road between Castis and Laurden. With his rich warm voice, Guiscard was a good storyteller, and the mountains carried many interesting stories.

  They found the church in the middle of the second village, and the few ext
ra houses did not make Aron feel better. Unconsciously, he touched the purse at his waist. Guiscard went to the small house next to the church, and came out with the priest: an old man, in his early seventies, his white hair an unruly mane.

  “Sir Bernier.” The priest bowed briefly. “We are pleased and honored to again have a Knight on the land. My lady.” His voice was warmer when he addressed Saliné.

  “We will have a wedding tomorrow.” Aron gestured at Bucur and Saliné. “My son and Lady Vio. Come at noon. Are there any women to make some food and serve it to my people?”

  The priest turned and counted all the soldiers behind Aron, then observed the two soon to be married. “A fine wedding it should be, with such a handsome couple.” The priest smiled warmly at Saliné, who responded mechanically. She is not thrilled by the wedding, and she seems to be a fine lady. Delicate and strong at the same time. The priest was an old man and through his long life had dealt with all sorts of people, troubled ones included. His keen eyes scrutinized Bucur next. An arrogant young man, even more so than his father. And cold, the kind of killer who takes lives between two mouthfuls of wine. Guiscard may be right that she has been kidnapped, but I don’t know how we can help her. On the road, it had not escaped the warden’s notice that Saliné was closely watched during the night, by two guards. I may learn more tomorrow, during her confession. “I think that we can arrange something, but mountain people are not rich, Sir. I am afraid that the meal will be less than you are accustomed to.”

  “We will make do.” Aron opened his purse and gave three galbeni to the priest, who looked suddenly uncomfortable.

  “I apologize, Sir, but there is not much need for gold here. These are poor people. Do you have the equivalent in silver?”

  I wonder how poor they really are, and how much revenue they will bring me in one year, Aron mused, and searched his pockets for silver. “We will see you tomorrow, then.”

  The night was closing upon them when they finally arrived in Castis. Before she rode through the gate of her new prison, Saliné had a last look at the snowy peaks, still glittering like amber in the sunshine. Down here, it was almost dark, but up there, she could see the shining remains of the sunny day, and a sad smile settled on her face. That did not escape Guiscard, either.

  After a dinner in which the venison felt like ashes in her mouth, Saliné found a reason to leave early. Entering her room, she found Gria arranging Bucur’s clothes in the wardrobe of the second, smaller room. These are not my rooms; these are our rooms. Bucur lied to me again. Does he feel pleasure in small things like this? Small man, small pleasures. He will not wait for the wedding; she shook her head, so I must be ready today. A bit earlier than I had planned.

  “Where are my things?” Saliné asked.

  “I serve Bucur and Aron,” Gria said, a malicious smile on her lips.

  “You serve the house, and from now on, I am the lady of this house. Men have their own world. You belong to the women’s world. Mine. If you think that Bucur or Aron will take your part, think again. After a happy night, men are easy to lead, and I will lead Bucur as I please. A child will come too. A week or a month will be enough time to make my husband listen to me. I will not throw you out of Castis straightaway. I will throw you out in midwinter. You are not a stupid woman; think on it. I want my things here, and I want a plate with venison for two people and a loaf of bread. I doubt that I will sleep much this night, and after midnight I get hungry. The last thing I will want to do is walk to the kitchen. After that, you will prepare my bath. I am sure you know why I need it.”

  After her bath, for a while, Saliné looked at the half moon through the window, thoughts and memories tumbling in her mind. Some of them were pleasant. Some were not. The unpleasant ones were stronger, and her mood was sour. Bucur entered without knocking, but she sensed him sneaking in, and turned to face him. His visit did not come as a surprise; Saliné already knew that he would not wait for the wedding to claim her body. He drugged and raped me once. This time... She let nothing show on her face when their eyes met. Her feelings were the only things that still belonged to her.

  Bucur’s eyes wandered around the room, and he saw the food on the table. “Are you expecting guests?” His face twisting into a wicked smile.

  “I thought that we might need to eat.” That food is for me, Bucur. I doubt that you will be able to eat after...

  “We ate just three hours ago, and I am not hungry for food. I am hungry for you, now. Later, you may be right. My dear Saliné, tomorrow the priest will finally perform our marriage ceremony, but I already consider you my wife. In fact, I have considered you so for a long time now. You know that.” His face formed a smile; his blue eyes did not. She smiled coldly too. Keeping his eyes on her, he came closer and fumbled with the ties of her bathrobe. Still smiling, he pulled it away, exposing her soft skin, and leaned down, kissing the top of her shoulder. Saliné closed her eyes as Bucur slid the bathrobe off her body. It landed at her feet, leaving her clad only in her shift, as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

  Feeling nothing for the man in front of her and unable to reject him, Saliné decided to close her mind, and let nature follow its course. She kept her eyes closed too, her head back against the wall, as his mouth touched the tender skin of her neck. It wasn’t long before his hands moved to her lower back, feeling its roundness through the silk, until they slid further down and raised her shift, gripping her naked bottom. Bucur leaned back, keeping his eyes on hers, and after several moments of pause pulled her shift farther up, revealing her belly, then her breasts, then her shoulders.

  “You are such a wonderful woman, Saliné.” He studied her beauty, up and down, with a deliberate slow rudeness, in the low glow of the candles, light and shadow playing on her skin. She was naked and, snapped out of her trance for a few moments, she felt naked. As if guessing what was in her mind, Bucur undressed. His smile, Saliné thought, was an altogether evil smirk. It passed out through his eyes, drinking in her body. Her curves pleased him. His lecherous stare made her nauseous.

  Keeping his eyes on her, Bucur touched her face with a finger, played with her lips, parting them and went down, trailing along her neck, to find her breast. His mouth went to her other breast, and she closed her palms into fists, nails pressing into her skin. Feelings were not involved in their interactions, and they both knew it.

  Eye closed, Saliné leaned against the wall, and let her mind fly faraway to Severin, imagining that she was in the arms of the man she loved, and she abandoned herself to the pleasant tension in her body. When he thought her fully subdued, Bucur lifted her and walked toward the bed. You did not want me. I saw it in your eyes, but now...Your breasts are swollen and hard and you are wet as a cheap whore, from my touch. Yes, my dear, I will make you feel like you never did before, until you will want me day and night in your bed. Then my punishment will strike you.

  Before she realized, Saliné was on her back in bed, staring up at him. Laying beside her, he continued to play every trick he knew on her body. And he knew many. When he could no longer restrain himself, Bucur abandoned his play and moved to part her knees.

  “Give me a moment,” Saliné said and moved away from him, until she could reach the wall with her right hand.

  Bucur frowned, as his fingers already sensed her ready, but he said nothing and restarted his game. You want to play me, he thought. I know this game better than you.

  “Come,” Saliné whispered after a while. “I am ready now.” It will end soon...

  He rolled over her, his hands tense against the bed, and finding his position, he thrust forward. Both of them moaned in a twin voice.

  Chapter 7 – Saliné

  After a night of bad dreams involving money slipping between his fingers and Maud’s hard stare, Aron woke up early and went to the kitchen. He disliked eating there, among the servants cooking and eating too, but there was no other choice. Built on a side of the house, with a separate entry from the large square terra
ce, the kitchen was at least spacious enough for three tables. There was a second terrace, on the first floor, above the lower one. The double terrace was the only feature that relieved the architecture of the house, which looked like an ugly cube. There were three doors on the lower terrace, going into the main part of the house, down into the cellar and into the kitchen. Maybe I should enclose the lower terrace, Aron thought. In the kitchen, he found Gria and one more servant of the four he had sent to Castis just two weeks before Codrin started the siege of Severin. Their faces revived memories he wanted to forget. Everything was going as planned, then everything crashed, and he hated Codrin in a way he had never hated anyone before. And Aron was accustomed to hate. It was a way of living for him, a way to escape the thought that he should have been the Duke of Peyris, not that weakling Albert. One day, I will make Codrin pay. The day he will no longer expect it. I am a patient man. He shook his head and sat at the main table. The hard wood of the table was scratched from years of clattering plates and looked older than the house itself. It had been stained by drink and oil. The surface had also been carved into in several places, by some bored soldiers who defended Castis over the years. One was phallic in nature. Some things were just universal. The other two tables were in even worse shape. The view did nothing to improve Aron’s mood.

  Gria knew well that morose look in his eyes, put the food of the table and tried to vanish.

  “What’s this?” Aron asked. “Yesterday evening we ate the same thing.”

  “There is also milk.” She proffered a jug made of brown clay. “We have some stored food, Sir, but the variety is not great. The warden said that food is scarce in the mountains.”

  “Send him here.” Absently, Aron started to eat the venison, which was warm, but still had the taste of re-cooked food.

  “Yes, sir,” Guiscard said and sat at the table before Aron could give him permission.