Cast Under an Alien Sun (Destiny's Crucible)

by Olan Thorensen

  “The 30,000 krun is judged to be what the dead man would have earned for his family in ten years,” said Cadwulf. “Mellwyin won’t have the krun himself, so his family will pay the judgment.”

  “What if they can’t pay?”

  “Then Magistrate Vegga and the registrar decide on what the family can afford. That could include family members working for the victim’s family for no pay for a length of time.”

  “What does probation mean?” asked Yozef.

  “If he commits another serious act of violence within those ten years, he might be banished from Caedellium. If it’s a premeditated act, or the act is serious enough, he could be sold to Frangel slavers and the coin given to victims or their families. Normally, those with such sentences are held in confinement in Preddi, awaiting the slavers who come about every five or six months and collect all those condemned to either banishment or slavery. Since the Narthani stopped all ships except their own from coming to Caedellium, such people are being held in Orosz City until a solution is found. Some have been there for several years.”

  “So this is not normal … to keep them imprisoned here in Caedellium?”

  Cadwulf frowned. “Why would we keep them imprisoned? They’d be a burden on the community. They are punished by fines, whippings, or probation or sent away from Caedellium, either as exiles or slaves, depending the severity of their crimes.”

  “So there’s no death penalty on Caedellium?”

  “Only for the most heinous crimes, where the person is judged so dangerous that even sentencing him to slavery or banishment off Caedellium would place others in future danger. It happens rarely, but I know of two such cases in Keelan Provence during my lifetime.”

  “What about an appeal? Can the accused, if found liable or guilty, try to have the decision changed?”

  “The adjudicator’s assistant,” Cadwulf indicated a man sitting to one side of the judges table, “will write a report of the facts of the case and the judges’ decision. The report goes to the Keelan hetman, Culich Keelan, in Caernford. The accused and his family can write to the hetman at the same time to give reasons the sentence should be changed. Most of the time the hetman won’t change the verdict. He might reduce the penalties, but he never increases them.”

  During Cadwulf’s explanation, the day’s session ended, the three judges filed out, and the spectators began to leave. Yozef had numerous questions.

  “Cadwulf, if you have no other plans for evening meal, I’d like to talk about what we saw here today. Could you join me at my house? Elian always cooks more than enough.”

  “A pleasure. I had no plans, other than eating with my family. Give me a moment to tell Father not to expect me this evening.”

  Cadwulf left Yozef standing alone and returned a few minutes later.

  As they walked the mile to the house, Yozef recounted the day’s cases to check whether he understood the proceedings and details of Keelan law and whether there were differences with those of other districts. That is, what was general to Caedellium and specific to Keelan?

  “Cadwulf, when you said this Camrin fellow will likely find another farm woman to marry him, you said you’d explain later.”

  Cadwulf grunted. “Oh, yeah. Well, it’s that there are often more women wanting husbands than there are available men.”

  More women? Yozef thought. On Earth, there were about 105 male babies for every 100 females. He remembered something about the speculation that male babies were more susceptible to diseases and male adults died more from hunting or fighting—some kind of evolutionary compensation to even out the sexes during the reproductive ages. However, somewhere around thirty to forty years, it evened out and from then on, there were more women than men. Why would the sex ratio of births be different here than on Earth?

  “There are more female babies?”

  “Yes, something like ninety-six boys to every hundred girls. I forget the exact numbers. It’s thought the different ratio is God’s plan to assure there should be equal numbers of men and women later in life, since women can die in childbirth. I was never convinced of this reasoning, because men die in accidents more often than women. There also used to be many more men who die in clan fighting than happens now, but I don’t see how God planned for that.”

  Well, if it’s God’s doing, he has different plans for Earth and Anyar. One thing’s for sure—at least one of the theories to explain the sex ratio differences is wrong.

  “So, with a shortage of available men, I assume that since Ser Camrin is gone now, the odds aren’t good for the woman to find another husband, if she wants one?”

  “Yes,” said Cadwulf. “One might think an unmarried adult woman owning a small farm would have many suitors. The problem is many-fold for her. She’s already been married and has two children, which are negative factors for some men and families. Also, farms aren’t as valuable as before, since the Narthani won’t allow shipping of our grains to the mainlands. And finally, most men are already married. As you might expect, the unmarried men tend not to be of the most desirable types.”

  “Such as Yuslir Camrin?”

  “Such as him, or simply not a man whom a woman might risk tying herself to, because when they marry, he becomes the owner of all of her property. Some women prefer to remain unmarried, rather than take the risk. On the other hand, when an appropriate man is available, the competition among women can be fierce.”

  “Available? Like widowed or a newcomer?”

  Cadwulf nodded. “Or from a dissolved marriage, if the woman couldn’t be lived with or if there’s reason to believe she’s infertile, and the husband wants children. The husband can petition and be granted a cancellation of the marriage; then all of her original property reverts to her, so the man must be very serious about wanting children, or he has property of his own.”

  Yozef shook his head. “I think the woman today, Hulda Camrin, will have a hard time. She’ll have three-quarters of her original farm, no husband, and two children to care for. From the details we heard, I assume the husband did all, or most, of the farm work.”

  “That’s a problem for her. If the farm had been larger and more productive, they might have had several workers. But since it’s a smaller farm and no other workers, it’s difficult to see how she’ll keep it.”

  “You said the farms are not as valuable as in the past, so she might not get much coin if she’s forced to sell.”

  “A bad situation for her,” agreed Cadwulf. “In that case, she’ll need to find family members to take in her and the children. The option should work for her, since the family is obligated toward the children, and she’ll come with some coin from selling the farm.

  “However, not all farm women are in such a difficult situation. Did you notice the woman sitting on the other end of our bench?”

  “No. There were a lot of people, and I was paying attention to the cases.”

  “I’ll point her out to you, if we see her sometime. She owns a medium-sized farm about ten miles north. She’s in her late twenties or early thirties and a widow. Her husband died several years ago after an accident on their farm. In her case, she’s successful in running the farm, because it’s big and productive enough to have several workers and since there were no children. She’s something of an exception, both because of her circumstances and since she’s known to be both strong minded and bodied.”

  They sat on the steps, facing the ocean. The moon Aedan was just rising from the ocean horizon. The other moon, Haedan, would appear much later that night, if Yozef remembered the pattern of their cycles.

  “I assume she has the same problem finding a new husband?”

  Cadwulf laughed. “Yes, the same problem of too few men she would want to marry, and I doubt she’s interested in giving up ownership of the farm. She’s quite used to running the farm by herself.”

  They rose and entered the house. Elian had somehow known there was a guest and had set an extra place at his table. Yozef often ate with the old
er couple, at first to their discomfort, but tonight they had already eaten. Brak was nowhere to be seen, and Elian served them, set an open bottle of phila wine on the table, and excused herself for the evening. Conversation lagged, as they focused on roast coney, potatoes, a chard-like vegetable Yozef had come to like, the wine, and a version of sourdough bread Yozef and Elian had been experimenting with. As they finished the last of the coney, Yozef brought up the topic they had been discussing on the way from the abbey.

  “Cadwulf, doesn’t the excess of women over men cause problems? Not just for the women themselves, but for the entire clan and society? What happens to an unmarried woman?”

  “If she has no property and can’t work to support herself, then her family is responsible for her. Otherwise, the local abbey or village tries to find her a place, especially if there are children. Obviously, being married is best. In some clans, though, the shortage of men has been worse, due to conflict within or between clans. When that happens, some clans, particularly the northern ones, have customs that help the problem by allowing husbands two wives. More in rare cases, but usually just two.”

  Yozef was surprised. “Does that also occur in Keelan?”

  “While it’s not disallowed by either The Word of God or Keelan customs, our clan has traditionally frowned on the practice, although there are a few exceptions. I can think of only three examples I know of, and none in Abersford. In some of the provinces, the man must get approval from his local abbey or boyerman to take a second wife, depending on the customs and laws of the province, and the first wife has to approve sincerely. It’s usually not allowed for the husband to pressure the wife into agreeing, although I understand this occurs more in the northern clans.”

  “Well,” said Yozef, “I can see the logic as a solution to excess women, but it’s a brave or foolish man to have even two wives, much less more than two.”

  Cadwulf smiled. “Yes, the obvious problems of two women in the same house.” His face took on a more serious demeanor. “Not to mention the ability to commit to the marriage equally and as deeply as the Word instructs. Then there’s the obligation to care for all children resulting from the marriage. More wives mean more children. That’s the primary responsibility of marriage—the children.”

  “In the last case today, what if the man accused of rape hadn’t been killed?”

  “If there was confirming evidence or a confession to the rape, then he’d be held responsible for the rape and care of the child.”

  “What if the judges didn’t decide there was proof of rape, and the child was his? He could claim the girl consented?”

  “It’s the same. If there was proof or admission that the child was his, then he’d be responsible for helping support the child. If no such proof, then the judges would rule he had no obligation.”

  The classic “he said, she said” problem. There are no DNA tests here.

  “And if the girl was considered too young to give consent?”

  “Too young?” questioned Cadwulf. “What does that matter?”

  Oh, boy.

  “Could she not be considered a child herself and not of age and maturity for such a decision?”

  “All persons, of whatever age, can make decisions. The younger they are, the more their age is taken into consideration in handling the consequences of such decisions. She and her family shouldn’t have put her in a situation where rape could occur.”

  Zounds! We’re not in Kansas anymore.

  Chapter 22: The Buldorians

  Preddi City

  Okan Akuyun was two hours into the current stack of paperwork when interrupted by a knock at his office door. From the rhythm and strength of the four raps, he recognized it was the tall, solid, and dangerous-looking Major Perem Saljurk, long-time aide and unofficial bodyguard.

  “Come, Perem,” he said and laid down his quill. The door opened, and the officer strode across the floor and handed Akuyun a dispatch with the seal broken. Akuyun had no secrets from Saljurk, and the aide read most dispatches before deciding whether they needed to be delivered immediately or could wait.

  “From Admiral Kalcan, General. A picket sloop came on a group of Buldorian ships and is escorting them to Rocklyn.”

  Right on time, thought Akuyun. Captain Adalan was as efficient as he’d judged. They’d arrived as agreed, five months to the day. He opened the dispatch and read, while the major waited. Seven Buldorian ships, their usual design, each with sixteen 15-pounder cannons. No one of the Buldorian ships was a danger to a Narthon frigate, but a pack like this could be dangerous to a larger warship caught alone.

  Kalcan estimated the Buldorian ships would reach the abandoned Preddi fishing village by early evening and assumed they’d anchor well offshore before any of them docked the next morning.

  “Thank you, Perem. Please send the admiral an acknowledgment and request he accompany me to Rocklyn first light tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir, and I’ll arrange a carriage and escort.”

  “Make that two carriages. I’ll be returning the next day, but the admiral or some of the staff going with us may stay longer.”

  Akuyun watched his aide leave. There was definitely an advantage to having someone like Perem, who’d been with him so long he could anticipate.

  They would ride in relative comfort, instead of on horseback, himself preferring the carriage option, since his riding skills had atrophied once he rose in the Narthani hierarchy. Also, he knew the admiral detested horses.

  One more step on the path. Akuyun mentally checked off a milestone. Once they got the Buldorians settled, they could move along. Within a year, with good fortune, they could finish their objectives here. When this assignment was completed, Grand Marshal Turket hinted a successful conclusion would impress the High Command enough to pull him back to Narthon. There, he anticipated a rise in rank and assignment to either a field position or a regional command over a conquered territory. Akuyun wasn’t in love with war, but after years of administrative work dealing with political and civilian issues on Caedellium, a field position would be a welcomed change. His current rank was equivalent to a division commander, so a promotion to the field would likely be as second-in-command in a corps at a major front. Command of a reserve corps or facing a lesser enemy was also possible. Any would suit him.

  He turned in his swivel chair and pulled one of several cords hanging from the ceiling. Elsewhere in the headquarters, the other end of the cord rang a small bell. Within seconds, a runner appeared in front of his desk, as he finished a short note.

  “Take this to my wife.”

  The soldier took the paper, saluted, and ran off. Rabia would pack an overnight valise for him, since he would spend the night in Rocklyn. He didn’t fancy riding even in a comfortable carriage the sixty-mile round trip in one day.

  Next, he wrote a memo to his senior commanders to alert them that the Buldorians had arrived. There was nothing for them to do at the moment, but he assiduously kept his immediate subordinates apprised of everything relevant. He turned and pulled a different cord. This time, a clerk came in.

  “Copy this memo and send copies, except the last paragraph, to Commanders Zulfa, Metin, Erdelin, and Ketin. Send the complete copy to Assessor Hizer.” The added words “invited” Hizer to accompany himself and Kalcan to Rocklyn. The assessor wasn’t formally a subordinate, so Akuyun couldn’t order him to accompany them. The Buldorians would coordinate with the Narthani navy, and Hizer would provide intelligence on targets for the Buldorian raids.

  Rocklyn, Abandoned Fishing Village, Preddi Province

  The three Narthani leaders left Preddi City at first light. The morning sun vanished behind a weather front that blew in, and light rain began falling halfway to Rocklyn. Heavier rain didn’t come until they were within a few miles of the village; otherwise, the dirt roads would have turned to mud. As it was, they made the thirty-mile trip in four hours. Akuyun used the time to go over every detail of the mission plans and the Buldorians’ role. Not tha
t either Kalcan or Hizer didn’t already know everything, but Akuyun never missed an opportunity to reinforce every man’s position and duties. Even so, they talked it out within two hours, followed by an hour of conversation about home and families. The final hour was quiet, as they crested a low hill and saw the fishing village.

  “There they are,” noted Hizer, pointing to three Buldorian vessels docked at the village harbor, while the other four anchored two to three hundred yards offshore.

  “And there we are,” responded Kalcan.

  Two Narthani sloops and three frigates were anchored seaward of the Buldorian ships, ostensibly to provide protection when the Buldorian crews were ashore, but also reminding the Buldorians in whose waters they sailed.

  The village itself consisted of two dozen structures assumed to be meeting houses, warehouses, shops, and homes of more prominent Preddi. Surrounding this cluster were forty to fifty smaller houses and huts, enough for an original population of four hundred. Though the village citizens had avoided most of the harsher consequences of the Narthani conquest, the last three hundred had been forcibly moved to allow the village to serve as the isolated base of operations for the Buldorians.

  The two carriages and fifty Narthani cavalry escort covered the last mile to the village and stopped at one of the larger structures, where a Narthon banner flew from the roof and where several soldiers waited for the new arrivals. Major Saljurk dismounted from his horse, spoke with an awaiting junior officer, and came back to Akuyun’s carriage.

  “The Buldorian commander is at the dock. Shall I send for him right away?”

  “No,” said Akuyun, “tell him we’ll meet him here in an hour. That’ll give us a chance to stretch our bones after the trip and get something to eat.”