Yozef was about to say, “Done deal,” when Cadwulf jumped in.
“Half price for how long, Sen Linton? Surely not indefinitely. Shall we say for five years?”
Her eyes glinted, and the corners of her mouth suggested good humor. “Five years hardly makes it worth my time. I couldn’t possibly agree for less than twenty years.”
Ten minutes later and with protestations of being robbed from both sides and how much they were conceding, Linton and Cadwulf agreed on eight years of reduced price once trade off Caedellium resumed, if the guano worked.
The basic deal settled, they proceeded to details. Yozef explained they’d need multiple plots to vary the amount and number of guano applications. Since he had no idea of the proper amounts, they settled on the initial test with four different amounts of guano, one and two applications, two different sites, and a control plot of no application at each site for a total of thirty-four plots. Yozef was encouraged that he didn’t have to explain the need for the control plots.
What crops to use was the next question? Yozef had thought of wheat, but Bronwyn suggested that barley and turnips were better cool weather crops. Though she had already finished the current plantings, there were several fields being left fallow she could use for the tests. Bronwyn suggested the plots be of a sixteenth of an acre, about fifty-five square feet each.
The business concluded, Bronwyn invited them to stay for evening meal, but both Cadwulf and Yozef were due to eat with Cadwulf’s parents that evening and gave their thanks for the invitation. Based on Linton’s estimate of the time needed to set up the test plots, Yozef said he would return in one sixday with sacks of fertilizer.
Chapter 27: A Close Encounter
A sixday later Yozef returned to the Linton farm with a wagon holding enough bags of powdered guano for the trials, plus extra. One of his workers drove the wagon, with Yozef as passenger and Seabiscuit tied behind. Linton saw them coming up the road to the farm and met them at the house.
“The wagon will return to Abersford once we’ve unloaded the sacks,” he explained. “I’ll ride back after checking the plots you’ve prepared and see the first applications.”
Linton nodded. “Then we’d better get to it.” She climbed onto the wagon bed and began handing sacks to the two men to transfer them to a farm cart with a pony hitched to it. She wore similar working clothes as on his previous visit, although her shirt was untied several inches lower than before. Yozef caught a brief glimpse of considerable breast the first time she bent to hand down a sack. He averted his eyes, but they betrayed him on the next two sacks. The views were impressive.
Yozef and his worker had gotten a later start from Abersford than planned and had arrived in early afternoon. As a consequence, by the time he and Linton finished with checking the first set of plots, observing the applications, and checking her record keeping, the sun was setting behind the eastern hills.
It had been an awkward day for Yozef. He couldn’t resist positioning himself to catch further glimpses down Linton’s shirt whenever she leaned over. Yet at the hint of a nipple, which elicited unmistakable stirrings, he steeled himself to avert his eyes during the last hour of work.
His face had a sheen of sweat, and his heart thumped as they finished the final plot, only partly due to exertion.
“That’s the last one, Sen Linton. I’ll be riding back to Abersford now. I’ll come and check back here next sixday.”
“Ser Kolsko, you’d be returning in the dark, and since you’re not familiar with these roads and by your own admission are not the most experienced rider, perhaps it would be best if you spent the night here and returned in the morning. I’d be pleased to offer you hospitality for evening meal and the use of the extra bedroom.”
Yozef wasn’t sure but suspected a hint of anticipation in her offer. He wondered whether there was the same in his acceptance.
They washed up after the day’s work. He expected a washbowl and maybe some soap, but she directed him behind the house to a small enclosure containing a tub of water, soap, and a drying cloth. The water was ambient temperature, meaning on the chilly side, but by now he was accustomed, or resigned, to only occasional hot water. He’d brought a change of clothing, not knowing what and how much work he would do at the farm, and when he entered the house, he was greeted by a similarly scrubbed and reclothed Bronwyn Linton.
Where’s the other tub? In the house?
It had to exist, since her hair was still damp and she didn’t seem to exude the natural odors most working Caedelli carried with them after a full day. Her work clothes had been replaced by slippers and a red dress with a more than suggestive plunging neck. Bras were unknown on Caedellium, and the sleeveless, form-fitting dress left little to the imagination.
Dinner combined the efforts of Linton and an older woman who excused herself and exited when the meal was ready. While waiting, Linton served Yozef a pre-dining aperitif. The first swallow burned on the way down.
Christ! This stuff’ll take paint off a wall. Probably a home brew of some kind.
After his throat recovered or perhaps was anesthetized, he rather enjoyed the glow and the mellow feeling. He also saw through a door into another room, where glimpses of cloth hanging off a table, wicker baskets, and a cot suggested the spare room where he would spend the night.
Dinner was a typical Caedellium repast of roast beef, turnips, whole-grain heavy bread, and a yellow-tinged sweet wine whose origin he couldn’t identify. Conversation was scintillating—prospects for this year’s crops, expectations on the fertilizer tests, the weather, how nasty were the Narthani, and a gossip about Abersford society. Yozef learned that Linton had inherited the farm from her parents, was married for two years before her husband died in accident, had had one child stillborn, and had a sister living nearby.
For his part, Yozef recited his rote summary of his own family and the mystery of arriving on Caedellium. As far as he knew, he held up his end of the conversation, although between the alcohol and views of cleavage he wasn’t sure. The meal and wine finished, the conversation lagging, he sat back and pushed his chair away from the table.
“Thank you, Sen Linton. I enjoyed the meal and your company. If your other bedroom is ready, I’m tired from the trip and our work and will retire for the evening.”
“Ser Kolsko, the extra bedroom is used as my sewing room and is so crowded with my work I’m afraid it might not be comfortable for you.” She rose from her chair, stepped out of her slippers, and slipped the top of her dress from her shoulders. Her breasts sagged from their fullness, the nipples pointing outward and erect. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable in my room.” She turned and walked toward the rear of the house.
Yozef’s eyes fixed on her breasts swinging when she turned and then the view of her hips swaying as she walked away barefoot. He stood frozen. While the moment wasn’t a total surprise, neither was it anticipated. Filtin had clued him in that unmarried Caedellium adults were free within cultural restrictions in matters of sex, but this was more upfront than he expected. If he followed her, did this mean a commitment? Was he really interested in her this way?
The questions were ignored by his feet and his groin. She lay naked on a bed. Flickering candles gave a warm, subdued glow to the room, and his pants tightened at the contrast of light and shadows across her skin. The parts of his brain still functioning noted the sturdy, definitely feminine body, the armpit hair, the thatch covering her mons, and her breasts settling downward as she supported herself on her left elbow and held out the other arm.
The only sound, if he had noticed, was both of their heavy breathing. His clothing cascaded around his feet, his erection pointing skyward. As he moved to the bed, she rolled back and spread and raised her knees. There was no foreplay. He mounted her, and she grasped him with her legs. There was an immediate rhythm to his thrusts and her hips. When he came quickly, she kept her clasp of him for several minutes. It was an urgent coupling, not lovemaking. They didn’t speak
. When he lay next to her, he could hear the slowing of their breathing, the sounds of the house, and the occasional animal sound from outside.
Now what do I do? Say something? Go to sleep? Thank her for the quick roll and retire back to the supposedly crowded guest room?
The answer came half an hour later when she explored his groin. Though her hands were rough, other parts of her were soft. This time, it took longer. His basic urge slaked, Yozef held himself back until she came with a series of gasping cries and a four-limbed attempt to compress his torso. The aftermath of this second round came quickly. When he was released and rolled off her, she grunted, he thought in satisfaction, turned on her side, and was asleep within moments. He reciprocated.
The next morning, he awoke to an empty bed and the day’s light just coming in the bedroom window. He lay wondering, again, about his next move. No answer appearing to him, he rose, dressed, and went to the kitchen from which emanated bakery aromas. Linton held an iron pan full of biscuits above the wood stove, holding the handle with a heavy cloth. She saw him . . . and smiled.
“Sit down, Ser Kolsko. A day’s work is waiting for me and travel for you.”
He took a seat at the sturdy table, on which sat a jar of butter, plates, knives, and a bowl of pilla fruit, tangerines, and apples.
He wondered where the tangerines came from, Shouldn’t they be ripening at a different time of year? And why tangerines here, but not oranges?
Linton plopped the plate of hot biscuits onto the table, along with two large mugs of kava, and his overnight tryst partner sat opposite him and dug in. He followed suit in short order.
“Are you sure you need to return to Abersford today, Ser Kolsko, or might you stay another day and night so we can plan more . . . fertilizer tests?”
“I think . . . Bronwyn . . . that after last night we can use our first names.”
“Thank you . . . Yozef. I didn’t want to appear too forward.”
Christ! Too forward! After last night? If that wasn’t being forward, I’m in dire danger if she ever does.
“I think my shops and workers can get along without me for another day,” he assured her.
His curiosity about what he’d be doing this additional day was answered as soon as they finished the biscuits and most of the fruit. This was a work day, and for Bronwyn that meant work. They spent time on more planning of the test plots, and, together with one of her workmen, they laid out the final plots with stakes. By noon, everything was ready for the fertilizer. He continued taking copious notes and diagrams and impressed on her the absolute requirement to follow every step of the planting, the fertilizer regime, and the records for all plots, if the results were to be valid. She listened carefully and didn’t comment on his redundant entreaties, but he ended confident she would adhere to the instructions.
They ate a lunch of dry sausage, cheese, and bread, a standard Caedellium midday meal, with the other workers. The rest of the day Yozef learned more than he needed to know about repairing barn stalls, plowing, and catching, killing, and plucking a goose. She didn’t direct him to do these tasks; it was what she was doing, and he followed along, helping as he could. This was a working farm without a husband. He suspected it flourished both because of the good location and soil, and because of her work habits. It was near dusk when the workday ended, and they returned to the house. Yozef’s back ached, and he had several new blisters. He was in better shape than ever in his life, but this day he’d used different muscles and in different motions than usual, and they let him know their disapproval. He wouldn’t have minded eating and going straight to sleep, though he rightly suspected Bronwyn had other plans.
Once gutted and plucked, the goose had been put in a version of a deep-pit, brick-lined roaster set-up near the house. When Bronwyn had done this, he had no idea, because the woman from the night before hadn’t appeared this day.
The grease-laden bird was delicious, and the two of them finished it, along with a fresh loaf of bread, a bowl of dark olives, and another flagon of the sweetish wine. The post-meal proceedings followed, similar to the previous night, with the difference that they engaged in only one round before sleep, compensated for when they both awoke the next morning.
Morning meal was her version of the Caedellium porridge—this one a combination of wheat and something like amaranth, laced with nut bits and what looked and tasted like raisins.
“Yozef, Godsday is two days from now. I can plan on being in Abersford to attend the abbey services . . . if you have no other plans.” Bronwyn looked at him expectantly.
“No, Bronwyn. No other plans. I look forward to your company at the service and hospitality at my house.” And the bedroom later.
She appeared at the abbey complex just before the Godsday service began. Yozef had attended many services, but he wasn’t a regular. It had been left open whether he would accompany her to the service or meet later. By default, he met her in front of the cathedral when she rode up on a bay mare. He had seen side-saddles here for women, but Bronwyn rode astride with a pantaloons-style skirt encasing her legs. Once she dismounted, a curtain of cloth held behind her while riding was wrapped around her legs to appear as a skirt, the pantaloons hidden beneath.
They entered the cathedral together and sat together in the middle of the pew rows. Yozef felt every eye following them, even if they weren’t. However, some were, and among the raised eyebrows included those of Cadwulf and Filtin, followed by a friendly smile from the former and a leer from the latter, which drew a sharp elbow from Filtin’s wife.
Yozef often worked part of every Godsday, but he and Bronwyn spent the day in his cottage, mainly in the bedroom. He told the Faughns he wouldn’t need Elian to prepare meals that day, a task Bronwyn took on.
The low afternoon sun shone through a window onto Bronwyn sleeping from their last coupling. It was the first time he’d seen her unclothed in full light. When he first arrived on Caedellium, women’s armpit and leg hair was disconcerting, but by now it seemed normal, and it was the idea of shaving that seemed odd. Bronwyn’s hair was only a shade darker than her parts tanned by the sun, the hairs on her calves becoming sparse above the knees. Not that the hair mattered. Yozef found other of her parts to keep his attention.
Chapter 28: Not to Be
Advice
They followed the same pattern the next four sixdays—Yozef arriving at Bronwyn’s farm in time for evening meal, staying two nights, and returning to Abersford the second morning— Bronwyn coming to his house the evening before Godsday and returning the morning after Godsday.
Neither spoke of commitment. He liked Bronwyn. She was honest, hard-working, and level-headed, all traits he would expect of a single woman running a large farm. He wasn’t sure of her view of him, but she clearly respected him as a prominent Abersford figure. They satisfied a mutual need, his part being hard to fake and her enthusiasm unquestioned. However, they had little else in common, except for one possible complication.
What if she gets pregnant? Contraception certainly wasn’t on my mind that first night, but as far as I know, there’s no such thing here. It might even be forbidden to try to prevent pregnancy, what with the way they emphasize caring for children. Well, shit. What should I do?
The time spent with Bronwyn impacted Yozef’s various enterprises. Several projects languished by his diversion a good part of each sixday, and workers were becoming impatient for decisions and directions.
As sixdays passed, the advantages and doubts about their relationship weighed more and more on Yozef. Did Bronwyn think this was leading to a long-term commitment, even marriage? What would be her response when she realized it wouldn’t happen? At times, he felt he was taking advantage of her, but he knew that was a holdover from how he might have viewed things back on Earth. Customs were different on Caedellium, and she’d started the affair, with his acquiescence. These uncertainties led him to seek out someone who had previously offered advice, Filtin.
The opportunity to get Filtin
alone came after being shown his crew’s latest distillation column, a multi-jointed one some eight feet tall with a maze of connecting piping. After the inspection and progress report, the other workers left for a mid-morning kava break, leaving Yozef and Filtin alone.
“Somehow, Yozef, I don’t believe the distillation equipment is what you needed to talk with me about.”
“No. It’s not about business. I need the advice of a friend.”
Filtin’s cheerful manner took on a more serious tone. “What is it, Yozef? How can I help?”
“It’s Bronwyn.”
“Ah. I’ve wondered how that’s going. You two aren’t starting to argue, are you?”
“No, no. Not that. I’m just worrying about what she expects of this and if I’m in trouble with Caedellium customs and laws in such matters. I’m wondering whether what we’ve been doing is taken to mean the intention for something long term.”
“Has she spoken of this?”
“No, not a word.”
“How long have you two been bedding? And how often?”
“Over a month, and four nights a sixday.”
Filtin grunted. “Four nights? I thought you seemed a little more tired some days than before, and everyone has talked about how you’re seldom around the shops.” Filtin thought for a moment, then asked bluntly, “What are your intentions? It sounds like you’re thinking about when it’ll end.”
“There’s nothing long term, as far as I’m concerned. I respect Bronwyn. She’s doing an admirable job running her farm, and she’s honest as could be. But our paths are just too different. It has to end sometime, although I don’t have any idea when. I’m also concerned about what if a child comes from this? If that happens, what commitment would that put on me?”
Cast Under an Alien Sun (Destiny's Crucible) Page 29
