Tales of Anyar

by Olan Thorensen

  “Better than the shocked look you had,” Yozef countered.

  Carnigan grunted. “I’ll give you that one.”

  Yozef gave up trying to read reports and surrendered to alternately watching the children play, answering questions that may or may not have already been answered, and running Seabiscuit against Man O’ War once more for each of the children (Carnigan remained steadfast that today he was a mountain, not a horse). Yozef held his breath with trepidation every time one of the charges came up, wondering whether it was another potty trip.

  He didn’t have a watch; otherwise, he’d be checking it every few minutes to gauge how long until the women returned. Instead, he followed shadows across the courtyard and estimated time. However, that method faltered when sun and shadow both vanished. He looked up at the sky to see that a cloudbank had moved in. Ten minutes later, a raindrop hit his nose.

  “Looks like it might start raining,” said Carnigan, as more raindrops splattered the stone courtyard flooring.

  “And who says you’re big, dumb, and ugly?” said Yozef.

  “As I recall, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up,” said Carnigan.

  “Well, if that’s so, maybe it’s because everyone else is afraid of you.”

  “Not so much anymore, are they?” said Carnigan in an aggrieved tone.

  “You’re right, Carnigan. Sorry I make jokes about it. You’re right. The last year or so, I think you’ve let people see more of who you really are. That was mainly what made people wary of you. You always used to scowl too much.”

  “You really think that was it?”

  “Well, yeah, besides being big, dumb, and ugly.”

  Carnigan roared with laughter and slapped Yozef on the back. Despite being accustomed to caution when around his friend, Yozef was unprepared after his spontaneous quip. Fortunately, He slammed into a pillar supporting the second floor external walkway instead of falling onto the courtyard’s slate.

  “Umpf,” Yozef grunted, as the air exited his lungs.

  “Serves you right,” said Carnigan.

  “Did Papa Yozef do something bad?” asked a small voice.

  The two turned to face four confused, fearful faces staring at them. The voice had been Morwena’s.

  “No, no,” said Carnigan, who reached out to grab Yozef and embrace him, which didn’t help his lungs refill. “We were just playing.”

  “Mama Ana says it’s not nice to hit anyone,” said Dwyna, her voice tinged with reproach.

  “She’s right,” said Yozef. “You need to be nice with everyone. We didn’t mean to frighten you. Papa Yozef and Papa Carnigan play like this sometimes.”

  “Okay,” said Dwyna, turning back to her doll just as the scattered raindrops fell harder and the clouds darkened.

  “All right, everyone inside, out of the rain,” Yozef called out. “Bring your toys into the house if you want to keep playing with them. Hurry now.”

  Squealing children ran to gather armfuls of toys, as did Yozef and Carnigan. By the time they were under the protection of the second-floor walkway, both men and the four children were damp but not soaked.

  “Are we supposed to change them into dry clothes?” asked Carnigan.

  “No, I think not. The temperature’s not that cold, and kids don’t mind such things, especially if they’re playing and active.”

  “Gwyned would probably put dry clothes on all of them,” said Carnigan.

  “Since the men are in charge, we’ll let the clothes air-dry unless they complain and look cold,” said Yozef.

  “Let’s at least get them inside,” said Carnigan, and they herded their charges into a bottom floor room holding most of the toys. No sooner were they all inside than a downpour ensued, the rain drumming onto the stone courtyard and against windows.

  Yozef refereed between Morwena and Dwyna, each of whom insisted a specific doll was hers and hers alone. He tried proposing a sharing arrangement, to no avail. He suggested they each get to play with it for a time and then switch. No go. He fruitlessly pointed out there were several other dolls available. The final solution was that he would play with the doll, and the two girls would have to play with other ones. Satisfied the other girl didn’t get the doll, both Morwena and Dwyna picked out another doll each. To avoid another flare-up, Yozef carried the controversial doll for the next half hour.

  Carnigan pulled Isla and Aeneas around the room in a wagon, stopping and starting again to create jerking motions for the wagon’s passengers, to their delight.

  Yozef finally decided the two older girls were distracted enough, so he hid the prized doll on a shelf behind some books. Neither girl seemed to notice, and he turned to see how Carnigan was faring. The wagon now contained only Isla. He quickly scanned the room.

  “Where’s Aeneas?”

  “He’s over there playing with—” said Carnigan. “Well, he was there a moment ago.”

  Yozef started out of the room and caught movement in the corner of his eye. Through a window, he saw Aeneas standing in the courtyard, head tilted back, laughing as rain washed over him.

  “Christ! Can’t take an eye off him for a second,” muttered Yozef and hustled out to stand under the overhang from the second-floor walkway.

  “Come here, Aeneas!” Yozef ordered.

  The two-year-old laughed and shook his head.

  “Come here right now,” said Yozef in his best “Septarsh-and-member-of-the-War-Council voice.”

  Aeneas wasn’t impressed.

  Yozef cursed and ran into the rain, scooped up his son, and retreated back under cover. He stripped off Aeneas’s soaked clothes, leaving only the diaper.

  “Okay, now let’s get you inside to change your diaper and into some dry clo—”

  Aeneas, once out of his father’s grasp while clothes were being gathered, raced off again into the rain.

  This time Yozef had to chase down his son, who was convinced a new game had been invented. Now both Aeneas’s diaper and Yozef’s clothes were drenched. Only one of them was laughing.

  A deep voice emanated from the open door to inside the house. “Well, you’ve got to admit he’s pretty fast for someone only recently running.”

  Aeneas cooperated with removing his diaper, which Yozef set aside. Then, with an impressively vigorous squirm, he dashed away into the rain.

  “The little shit’s too fast,” said Yozef, who couldn’t hide a smile.

  “Aw . . . it’s only water, and it’s not that cold. Let him play,” said Carnigan.

  The two watched as Aeneas ran around the courtyard, buck naked and laughing. Joining the audience to his performance were the three girls clustered around the men’s legs. Yozef glanced down.

  “I suppose you want to go out and act crazy, too?”

  Isla’s expression appeared blank at the question, but both Morwena and Dwyna looked as if he’d just asked whether they wanted to eat slugs.

  As quickly as the downpour had begun, it tapered off and quit. Aeneas stopped running and began splashing in the shallow puddles not yet drained from the slate. Now the girls were interested.

  “Go ahead,” said Yozef, “but barefoot. I don’t want your mamas to see lots of wet shoes.”

  Dwyna and Isla sat, took off their shoes, and joined Aeneas.

  “I don’t want wet feet,” said Morwena. “I want to wear my boots.”

  Carnigan looked around and spied sets of small boots and sandals on a wooden rack under the overhang. “Go get your boots, Morwena, and put them on.”

  “I can’t do it myself,” she said, patiently. “You have to do it.”

  Sighing, Carnigan pulled a pair of boots off the rack, and Morwena sat on the ground. He knelt in front of her, an incongruous sight. It flashed through Yozef’s mind that it looked like an ogre kneeling before a princess.

  The small feet and boots were a mismatch for Carnigan’s large hands. He muttered under his breath until he finally got the right foot settled.

  “Mama says I have to wear sock
s,” said Morwena.

  “Socks? Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Carnigan.

  “Everybody knows that.”

  “All right,” said Carnigan, “I’ll get some socks. He returned moments later, pulled off the boot he’d labored to get on her, put on the socks, and repeated the boot struggle. Finished, he sat back.

  “They’re on the wrong feet, Papa Carnigan,” Morwena complained.

  He looked. She was right.

  “Why didn’t you tell me with the first one?” His voice raised in volume with each word.

  She just looked at him.

  He sighed again, muttered, took off the boots for the second time, switched feet, and she was ready. Or so he thought.

  “These aren’t my boots. They’re Dwyna’s.”

  Yozef could hear teeth grinding from twenty feet away.

  Carnigan walked to the rack and pointed at pairs little boots until she nodded.

  “Those are mine,” Morwena said happily.

  Off came Dwyna’s boots.

  “You’re sure these are your boots?” said Carnigan very slowly and not quite in a growl.

  Morwena nodded, and he struggled again to put boots on small feet.

  “Owie!” exclaimed Morwena after a push to get a foot inside a boot.

  “Sorry,” said Carnigan in a softer tone. “Give me patience, oh God.”

  “All right, there you are, Morwena. Your boots. On the right feet. Wearing socks. Although I think your boots are too tight.”

  “Maybe it’s because I left my socks in the boots yesterday.”

  Carnigan stood and walked into the house.

  “How did it go?” asked Maera, as the three cheerful women returned at mid-day.

  “No problem,” said Carnigan. He cast a baleful eye at a snickering Yozef. “Now that you’re back, I think I’m going out for some air.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Yozef. “I seem to recall there’s something I need to do at the headquarters.”

  They were at the main door when Dwyna asked Anarynd, “Mama Ana, why is Aeneas a ‘little shit’?”

  Before Anarynd, perplexed, could respond, Morwena answered, “It’s because he wouldn’t let Papa Yozef read his goddamned paperwork.”

  The two men closed the door before the women responded.

  TRADITIONS AND AUTHORITY

  The first day of the inaugural Senate session had been the trickiest. In the future, either hetmen or their representatives (senators) would represent each clan, but for this first session all the hetmen were in attendance. Despite some issues being previously settled informally, the details required hetmen to vote. One such issue formalized how a paramount could be removed. The final compromise established removal by a vote of at least two-thirds of the clans, meaning at least fifteen of the twenty-one clans. Given Yozef’s standing and the rock-solid support of the original Five-Clan Alliance, the clans of the War Council, plus Moreland, Preddi, Selfcell, and Brill, such a removal would be all but impossible during Yozef’s tenure. In future generations, the heir nominated by the paramount could be replaced by another Kolsko or, as a last resort, be any Caedelli man.

  The result from the acrimonious debate on Senate votes binding all clans satisfied Yozef; fourteen votes mandated compliance with Senate decisions. He wanted it eventually reduced to twelve or thirteen votes but didn’t want to push the hetmen too far too soon. He’d work on adjusting the vote in the future and didn’t anticipate failing to get fourteen votes for many years, perhaps even during his lifetime. Neither he nor any of the hetmen favored a simple majority vote. He wasn’t sure he ever would, after seeing how evenly divided decisions on Earth often created too much resentment.

  Regarding the establishment of a central adjudicator, a passing vote after only an hour of vigorous discussion surprised Yozef. He believed part of the reason for people’s acceptance was that many of the details were left for further discussion and future votes. The hetmen also accepted that an adjudicator committee would propose standardization of coinage, trade relations among clans, and punishment of serious offenses. Yozef foresaw the central adjudicator office developing into the island version of a supreme court combined with a justice department.

  The Senate also accepted that the duty of the paramount hetman was to deal with foreign realms in matters that affected all of Caedellium. Such dealings were to be known to all hetmen and senators, except when secrecy was necessary. In those cases, a committee of three hetmen would hear details they would not share, unless all three of the committee members deemed it necessary.

  The second day of the first-ever Caedellium Senate meeting proved less tiring than the first day. Still, despite only three items being considered and settled, the twenty-one clan hetmen and Yozef Kolsko, Paramount Hetman of Caedellium, took the entire day to discuss, argue, and finally vote their approval. As the leaders prepared to disperse for the evening, Yozef walked among them, saying something positive to each man for his contributions that day. Some things he said were easier to swallow than others.

  Welman Stent shook Yozef’s hand. “A good day’s work, Paramount. Better than I expected.”

  A minor issue they had settled was how to address the new leader of all the clans. Owill Brell, hetman of the newly created Clan Brell, pushed for the full title, “Paramount Hetman of Caedellium,” an option acceptable to half the clans and the cause of snorts and scowls from the other half. Yozef settled the issue when he said it wasted time better spent on productive words and endorsed simply “Paramount.”

  “Yes, better,” Stent repeated. “I was also wondering how many clans would object to a permanent military. I believe most hetmen accepted your proposal, despite their misgivings, because memory of the fight against the Narthani is still so raw. It also helped that people perceived the plan wouldn’t seriously disrupt work and families.”

  A cadre of permanent senior officers would command two active dragoon regiments and artillery. Each clan would provide a battalion’s complement of companies serving six months on a rotating basis. Thus, every man of fighting age and physical ability would serve six months every five years, with the clan providing for the families while the men served their duty. Similar provisions would be arranged to maintain farms, ranches, and trades of absent men.

  “You know, Welman, there’ll have to be some adjustments. Men from the smaller clans would otherwise be absent from home more often than those from clans such as yours. I think in a year or so, Hetmen Vandinke and Nyvaks will agitate once they realize this. When that happens, clans like yours will have to pick up more duty.”

  “I know, but it shouldn’t be too disruptive if it’s held to only a few additional platoons,” said Stent. “I also think your proposal for large-scale maneuvers every few years will work out even if some of the clans are hesitant. We can decide details in a couple of years.”

  While the Senate left those details for future consideration, Yozef planned on it being a certainty, something he hadn’t told any of the hetmen, including Stent or his father-in-law, Culich Keelan. Yozef figured that the increased trade, now that the island was out from under Narthon, would allow the economy to spare three or four sixdays every two to three years.

  “In the meantime, all clans need to maintain a minimal level of militia training,” said Yozef. “When companies report for active duty, they can’t be spending time in basic training.”

  “That’ll be tricky,” said Stent. “You know some clans are bound to let training slide for whatever reason.”

  Yozef lowered his voice. “I think the issue will resolve itself the first few times I rule that companies are rated too ill-trained and are publicly sent back to their clans.”

  “Hah! That’ll rile a few hetmen I could name, and that’s something you managed not to bring up the last two days.”

  “Oh, you know . . . ,” said Yozef, waving a flourish in the air as he imagined Louis XIV using royal prerogative, “a Paramount has so much on his mind, such details get lost. How
ever, Welman, I think I need to move on and talk to some other hetmen. For example, I need to thank Ingor Nyvaks for his input these last two days and assure him his views are always taken into consideration.”

  “Don’t choke while you’re doing it,” said Stent. “Especially when you’re secretly wishing the cretin would drop dead as soon as possible.”

  “Shame on you, Hetman Stent, for even thinking such thoughts about a fellow hetman. I’ll ask God to forgive you, which should grant me mercy for any similar thoughts that might come into my mind.”

  Yozef made the rounds through Nyvaks, Bevans, Seaborne, and Vandinke before finding himself alone with Culich Keelan.

  “Paramount,” greeted Culich.

  “Still doesn’t seem right for me to be a higher rank than you,” Yozef said quietly. “You’re a better hetman than I ever would be and have so much more experience.”

  “But you don’t have to be a hetman,” replied Culich just as quietly. “You have to be the paramount, something I wouldn’t be as good at as you and which wouldn’t be acceptable to most of the other clans. We all have our roles, and all we can do is ask God’s grace in doing the best we can. How do you feel today went?”

  “A hell of a lot smoother than yesterday. I was just talking with Welman about the standing military. I was more worried about the other two items. However, even though it took hours of talk, there wasn’t significant opposition to accepting that the paramount can order a full military mobilization to begin, as long as the Senate approves major actions. Taxes were another matter and the only time I had to step in with a firm opinion.”

  The two men thought quietly about the acrimony that had arisen when the hetmen discussed taxation. The vote had been close, but the Senate could approve island-level taxes followed by the paramount’s approval. However, once collected, those taxes would be used for purposes benefiting all clans and were at the discretion of the paramount. Yozef hinted at but didn’t commit to considering each clan’s conditions when spending the money.