“You mean he gets away with cheating me!” Yozef ranted after the meeting with Penwick.
“I’m sorry, Yozef, but it’s not considered cheating, since you didn’t follow the requirement to register such agreements. Everyone will see Penwick as untrustworthy, but they’d see you as stupid for not protecting yourself.”
“And how about yourself?” Carnigan dug at Cadwulf, who blushed.
“Carnigan’s right. It’s also my fault. You were handling the soap making, and I was so involved with the bank, I assumed you remembered the lessons about registering all transactions. I’m sorry, Yozef, blame also has to rest on me.”
Yozef took several deep breaths. “All right. I screwed up, and you didn’t help, Cadwulf, but the result is that Penwick gets away with stealing, or whatever else you call it?”
“Sorry again, Yozef,” Cadwulf said. “But yes, that’s the way it is.”
Yozef’s fiery anger abated into cold fury. “So be it. I have enough money to live well, but I hate being screwed over by a dickhead. If I couldn’t get Penwick to give me my agreed-on share, I’ll take all of his business.”
Yozef spent the next three hours querying Cadwulf, then Filtin Fuller and brewer Galfor on Keelan business customs. Caedellium had no history with excessive monopolies. The deliberate undercutting of competition to drive them out of business was not yet so serious an issue on Caedellium as to need intervention by a district boyerman or the clan hetman. By the same time the next day, Yozef had hired away half of the workers in the soap factory, bought a building, and arranged for construction of all of the needed facilities for making soaps. Within two sixdays, they were operational and selling soap at half the price it cost to make, with Yozef easily absorbing the losses from his ether and ethanol income. Within another two sixdays, Penwick failed to secure intervention by the abbot, the district boyerman, and a final appeal to the Keelan Hetman. Two sixdays later, the soap maker attempted to meet to apologize and repay the debt. Yozef ignored the overture. A month later, the soap maker closed his shop, sold all of his holdings in Abersford, and moved to Adris Province to start a new soap business. Before he left, Yozef sent him a letter explaining that he would consider their original arrangement still active in Adris. Yozef would get his originally agreed-on share, and as long as that happened, he wouldn’t repeat driving Penwick out of business no matter where he moved on Caedellium.
As for the soap workers, all ended up working for Yozef’s soap factory at higher pay than before. The senior worker, one of the first to jump to Yozef, was given a share to manage the business, and even then, Yozef’s share of the profits was more than with Penwick.
Cadwulf and Carnigan saw to it that details of the soap maker’s fate widely circulated. The lesson learned by the Abersford soap maker was hard, and the episode became incorporated into descriptions of the strange man who had washed up on a Caedellium beach. A mild-mannered man of average appearance, except for unusual light-bluish-gray eyes. An honest man, generous to workers, teller of jokes—and ruthless if crossed.
Harvest Festival
Days grew shorter, temperatures lowered, and foliage peaked in a kaleidoscope of color. Yozef stood mesmerized, facing the forested hills north of Abersford. He’d thought New England in the fall was spectacular the one time he’d visited at the right time. But THIS!
The End-of-Harvest Festival fell on a perfect day. Wispy clouds set off a bright midday sun and a blue sky. Only the occasional tinge of coolness in the breeze foretold of the coming winter and shortening days. The two-day event bustled and sprawled across a large field between Abersford and the abbey. All work stopped for those two days, and half of Yozef’s workers had failed to show up for work the day before to prepare for various events and competitions. Now, Yozef stood among the throng attending the opening ceremony speeches, most mercifully short.
He estimated well over a thousand people stood listening, and even more busied themselves elsewhere on the grounds—several times more people than the entire population of Abersford and the abbey. He wondered how many miles away some of them had come from?
With the festival officially open, Yozef dispersed with the others to sample the offerings of the tents and the stands set up across acres in all directions. Much of the festival resembled a rural fair in the United States or a 4H gathering, showing off prize animals, holding competitions for sizes of vegetables and animals, and displaying pumpkin-like gourds, leather, metal, and wood crafts. The festival featured tradesman stands, gambling, foot races, and other activities Yozef never identified.
The sounds of the festival beat on his eardrums: people talking, animals vocalizing, and everywhere music from all quarters and a myriad combination of instruments and voices, individuals and groups, all lively. Yozef wandered among the crowd, stopping at a craft table here, a food judging there, and lingering near music that caught his ear. Some performances seemed planned and others spontaneous, with performers claiming an open space to sing or play. It was Yozef’s first exposure to the full range of Caedellium instruments: drums and stringed instruments of all sizes and sounds, wind and brass horns, and instruments of whose categorization he was uncertain. The bagpipe-like performances he moved past quickly, then stopped in wonderment before what resembled a kazoo quintet. The five small, bulbous instruments were each of slightly different shape, with sounds reminiscent of oboes and flutes.
Yozef turned away from the kazoo performance and spied Cadwulf waving to him through the human stream.
“Yozef, I wondered if I’d find you here somewhere. How are you enjoying all this?”
“Quite an impressive assortment of displays. Is the festival always this large?”
“This is normal. It’s tame right now and best for families. After sundown, it gets rowdier when the women and the children go home, and the men drink more. It used to be worse, but when I was about six years old, Hetman Keelan ordered that no alcohol be served at festivals until sundown. Since then, more people attend and stay longer. At the time it wasn’t the most popular ruling from the hetman, though now most see it worked for the best.”
“Is there any recommended order to what I should try to see?”
“No. I’ll walk with you awhile and answer any questions.”
The two of them started down a row of leather-goods displays, when they became three after finding Filtin Fuller examining a leather vest and haggling with the maker. When Cadwulf called out, Filtin dropped the vest back on the table, said something to the disappointed tradesman, and wove his way to where they waited.
“Where’s the family, Filtin?” asked Cadwulf.
“Nerlin and the children are off looking at coneys, colts, and the food preserve exhibits and contests. I have leave to do anything else and meet back with them in two bells.”
Cadwulf gave Filtin a sardonic grin. “So your wife decides what you can do?”
“My wife is a wise woman. She knows how bored I am with those parts of festivals she finds most interesting, so she doesn’t drag me to them. She also knows I’ll be in a better mood for later when the children get tired.”
“A wise woman indeed,” laughed Yozef. By now, Filtin was close to being an indispensable worker and was also a friend. Besides being Yozef’s chief equipment designer and craftsman, Filtin was a sometimes drinking companion and someone around whom Yozef’s mood always seemed to lift, possibly because Filtin’s bright complexion, short red beard, and round face, when combined with a habitually optimistic disposition, reminded Yozef of a Christmas ornament.
“Filtin, Cadwulf is educating me on Caedellium harvest festivals. How about joining us to add to my enlightenment?”
“Glad to . . . until I’m summoned back by the wife.”
In the next hour, Yozef learned to distinguish the three breeds of milk cows, how to estimate the weight of an ox, how a roasted merkon (mussel-like) tasted (bad), and that the muddleton berry jam prepared by Filtin’s wife was the best in the district (Yozef couldn’t tell the dif
ference, so he lied). Cadwulf seemed to have little interest in the fair itself, but his two compatriots noticed his roving eye whenever they passed young women.
Yozef elbowed Filtin. “I don’t know why Cadwulf even pretends to do anything else besides fishing for girls.”
“Fishing for girls? Hah! I’ll remember that one.” Then, addressing the younger man, he asked, “Any bites today?”
Cadwulf smiled good-naturedly, “A few nibbles. A good fisherman knows how to be patient.”
“What about you, Yozef?” queried Filtin. “You’re of marriageable age, becoming a wealthy man, and person of note in Abersford. Any women catching your eye? Or should I ask if you’ve already been fishing, and there are catches you haven’t told us about?”
The question hovered around Yozef’s consciousness for several steps, then coalesced, and he froze. The other two men continued several steps, oblivious to their diminished number before missing him, then stopped and looked back.
Women. Sex. He’d been here nine months, a full Anyar year, and he hardly remembered thinking about sex. How could that be? Had the Watchers done something to him during the “repair job”? A chill trickled down his arms and back, not only at the thought of a life without sex, but of what else they might have done to him.
“Yozef?” asked Cadwulf. “Are you all right?”
He stared at the others. “I just realized I haven’t thought about women that way the whole time I’ve been on Caedellium,” he said in a tone both wondering and worrying. “That doesn’t seem natural.”
“It’s not!” said a concerned Filtin, as he and Cadwulf stepped back to where Yozef still stood. “A grown man has his normal needs. Uh . . . you say you haven’t thought about women that way, but . . . uh . . . surely, you must have noticed being ‘aroused.’ Maybe when asleep or daydreaming?”
“Aroused? What—? Oh, you mean an erection. Not that I remember.”
“Not at all?” blurted Cadwulf. “I guess the shock of being washed up here and knowing you’d never see your homeland again might have something to do with it. Maybe you should see the medicants about it?”
“Somehow I don’t see myself discussing my sex life with Brother Dyllis or Sister Diera.”
“Doesn’t have to be those two. Brother Alber would be understanding, and no one thinks he’d tell of your confidence,” offered Cadwulf.
“Why go to the medicants when you’ve two perfectly good advisors right next to you?” chortled Filtin.
“Practical advice we might give,” said Cadwulf dryly, “but if there are medical problems, he needs to see the medicants.”
“He can always do that later, after seeing if our advice helps. Right here and now is the perfect opportunity to survey the women of Abersford and see if any gives Yozef a ‘rise’ in interest.”
Both Filtin and Cadwulf laughed. Yozef was less amused.
“Now, now, Filtin,” said Cadwulf, “it’s important to let Yozef know which women might be available. We don’t want our mysterious friend and employer to get into trouble with the magistrates or irate husbands and family members.”
For the next half hour, they alternated between experiencing exhibits and a running commentary on the names, attributes, and availability of Abersford women. At first, Yozef cringed at the degree of detail, although it was all done with good humor, and the ribald nature of the comments paired with an unmistakable undertone tone of respect.
“Cania Narberth. Now there’s a good-looking woman,” whispered Filtin, as they passed a black-haired woman in her late twenties. “To bad she had to get married. She and I had some times.”
“Before he was married,” added Cadwulf.
Filtin continued his running travelogue, as they passed a teenage girl with long auburn hair. “Ah, one of Gerrael Horsham’s daughters. Elwin is her name or something close to it. A little young yet, but in another year or two our young Cadwulf will sniff around her.”
Cadwulf laughed. “No, in this case. It’s best to avoid complications with more than one woman in the same family.”
“You dog,” laughed Filtin, “I assume that refers to the oldest daughter, Rhawna?”
Cadwulf sniffed. “An honorable man does not discuss such details among common louts such as yourself.”
“I’ll have you know I am not a common lout,” declared Filtin. “It takes effort to stay an uncommon one!”
Although Yozef told them he had not had thoughts of women, meaning sex, since he arrived, what he realized was that he had not consciously had such thoughts. He had been noticing females more lately, though he hadn’t realized how much until minutes ago. As it always seemed here, realization of one issue raised more questions and problems.
Trying to sound nonchalant, he asked, “Exactly what are the customs here on Caedellium, as far as men and women are concerned?”
“I assume you don’t mean how they dress different,” replied Cadwulf with a mischievous grin.
“He means how do they undress,” ribbed Filtin. “Or more to the point, how does a man get a woman to lie back and spread her legs.”
Yozef’s face heated. “I mean, if they’re attracted to each other, what are the customs here? What’s considered appropriate behavior?”
“Appropriate behavior?” said Filtin. “That all depends on who you ask.”
“True,” Cadwulf conceded. “The Word sanctions the union of husband and wife but is not clear on non-husband and non-wife. You can get the theophists to argue endlessly over the issue without coming to a consensus. What the Word emphasizes is the responsibility to care for any children that result.”
Filtin’s jovial expression became more serious, as he listened to Cadwulf’s words. “And it must be that the woman is both of a reasonable age and willing.”
Cadwulf nodded. “Definitions and customs vary. What is defined as ‘appropriate age’? Parents will believe it’s several years older than the girl does. There’s also some sense that a person is less respectable if he or she is too frequent or public in relationships with the other sex. On the other hand, it’s a fairly common custom for two such persons to acknowledge the relationship in front of others, in case a child results. That way, there is evidence of fatherhood, if necessary.”
“That sounds better than what really goes on,” Filtin qualified. “Too often, there’s some reason not to want to be public, such as embarrassment or the perceived objections of family or friends. Not to mention that opportunity and urges might not fit with planning or rational thought.”
“True,” said Cadwulf, “which is why, whether fair or not, the burden falls more on the woman to be sure of circumstances and intentions. Especially since she needs to know her monthly bleeding cycle. Unless she’s too much a simpleton, she knows that the chances of getting with child are greatest the sixdays around her time.”
“That gives her at about four sixdays each month when it’s safe, if she wants to avoid getting pregnant,” said Filtin.
Hmmm . . . considered Yozef. That’s interesting. The larger of the two moons here had a thirty-six-day orbit pattern. The month divisions were matched on the same cycle, and women here must have their ovulation cycles synchronized with the moons, as on Earth, except here it was thirty-six days, instead of twenty-eight. So, for maybe two-thirds of each month, a woman here could have intercourse with a lower risk of pregnancy, assuming she was regular and kept accurate track.
I wonder what this means for customs on extramarital sex?
Before he could ask, Filtin answered.
“Mothers teach daughters to be aware once they start their monthly bleedings, but when she reaches her full size, she’s considered an adult and responsible in this matter.”
“That coincides with reaching what’s considered the usual marriageable age of seventeen,” added Cadwulf.
Seventeen? Yozef did a quick conversion. That was about fifteen years on Earth.
“So, if I understand, when she’s of marriageable age she might start to engage in
sex. Are there any restrictions for age or position of the man?”
Cadwulf shrugged. “While it’s not considered good behavior for a man too much older to have relations with a much younger woman, that’s her responsibility.”
The two Caedelli continued with Yozef’s sex education class for several more minutes. Yozef listen carefully. It was evident relations were condoned outside of marriage.
“Ah . . . is there any problem with . . . ah . . . illnesses passed between a man and a woman when they have sex?”
“Diseases?” queried Filtin. “Why would there be? Sex between men and women is natural. Why would God design diseases to prevent it?”
“Oh, just wondering,” said Yozef. So, no STDs came along with the transplantation from Earth. I wonder whether that was planned or a side effect of sampling from small, isolated populations? Of course, with those nanomachines or whatever, that wouldn’t supposedly be a problem for me, anyway.
“What about relations between two people who are already married to others?”
Filtin grunted. “That’s different.”
Cadwulf agreed solemnly. “There might be room for different interpretations of women and men outside of marriage, but the Word is very specific once you’re married. To violate the marriage bed is a major sin.”
Filtin nodded agreement. “And for even the less observing people of the Word, there’re the practical implications. Inheritance goes through children of the couple. Children from infidelity can be excluded from inheritance. Husbands can divorce their wives if the women have been unfaithful.”
“In theory,” said Cadwulf. “Though if most of the property was originally the wife’s, it reverts to her, so husbands might be hesitant to divorce in those cases and just take it out on the wife by beating her. Another option is to accuse the other man of infringing on the marriage and ask for a monetary penalty. That requires making it all public, shaming everyone involved, and having proof a magistrate will accept.”
“Can a wife divorce a husband for his being unfaithful?”
Cast Under an Alien Sun (Destiny's Crucible) Page 25
