She shook her head. “Never.”
“He told me a disturbing story about how this Britain had conquered India, a realm many times larger, by tricking the people of India to fight one another or be bribed by Britain. Yozef suggested the Narthani may already be doing something similar here on Caedellium.”
“He never told me any such stories,” snipped Maera. Breda patted her daughter’s leg under the table.
Calmly, my dear, calmly.
“I doubt he deliberately hid anything from you, Maera. Possibly you didn’t ask the right questions, and I did without realizing it. That would go along with my impression there’s more underneath than he lets us see. The answers may be there, but you may have to ask the right questions at the right time.”
Her father’s words mollified Maera only somewhat. Her father knew her well enough to see what was going on under that long brown hair.
“Don’t beat yourself up for not getting more out of him.” Culich paused and looked at his eldest daughter. “In fact, Ser Kolsko believes you are one of the smarter persons he’s ever met, possibly the smartest. He also told me you’re smarter than he is.”
Maera was thunderstruck. Yozef said what?!
Breda sat smugly, eyeing her daughter.
Culich eyes were also on Maera, but as if seeing something in a different light for the first time. “Kolsko also said I was fortunate to have such an intelligent daughter helping me rule the clan.”
Oh, no. Breda cringed within. As good a hetman as Culich is, and as much as I know he listens to Maera and me, he’s still a Caedellium hetman, and telling him he needs help from a daughter isn’t the wisest comment to make.
“He’s right,” continued Culich. “I may not have said it before or not as clearly as I should. Maera, I do appreciate not only your help but also your advice. While I may not acknowledge it as much as I should, the way our customs are, I want you to know it.”
Both women teared up, Breda because she was happy for a daughter who rarely felt she fit into customary roles, and Maera because it was the strongest expression of respect her father had ever given her.
My, my, Yozef, thought Breda. You do seem to bring changes wherever you go, don’t you?
Culich was not unaware of the response to his words and cleared his throat, returning to Kolsko.
“I originally planned to meet this Kolsko fellow once or twice to get a good evaluation. Now I think it’ll take longer—both to get a better reading on him personally and to continue discussions on the Narthani. I called him here for a sixday, but, since I expected to be finished with him in no more than two days, I committed traveling to meet with the Hewell and Adris hetmen. The meeting in Hewell is more a formality. Hewell is ready to join the Tri-Clan Alliance, or whatever we rename it once the number of members increases past three. Lordum Hewell is still young enough and new enough at being hetman that he wisely is being careful to get the support of his boyermen for this alliance. Adris is another matter. Hetman Adris wants the alliance, though he has several boyerman who are strongly opposed, evidently believing all of the Narthani problems are remote from Adris, and why should they get involved and invite trouble? Stupid, I know, though we still have to try to convince them.
“Another issue they bring up is that Adris doesn’t have an adjoining border to any of the alliance members, including Hewell. In reality, Orosz is functionally, if not officially, also a member. They can’t join because of the custom that Orosz stays neutral in clan disputes. While the Narthani are an external threat, Hetman Orosz and I agree that for now Orosz should remain outside the alliance.
“All of this means I’ll need to be gone a full sixday or more and won’t be able to speak enough with Kolsko until I return. I’ll tell him to stay longer, two or three more sixdays.”
“Father, he’s busy with all of his shops and projects,” cautioned Maera.
“They’ll have to wait until I’ve finished speaking with him,” responded Culich, automatically assuming the man would suborn other activities, if the hetman had different plans.
“Remember, Father, he’s not from Keelan or anywhere else on Caedellium. He’s not a member of the Keelan Clan, so he owes no specific allegiance to either you or the clan.”
Maera was right. By custom or law, even a Keelander was free to acquiesce or not to a Keelan hetman’s request, although, in practice, few resisted. Kolsko was not even a Keelander. Culich considered his daughter’s words. As early as it was in his evaluation of Kolsko, Culich’s intuition nagged that Kolsko would be important in Keelan’s future. If Kolsko had no formal ties to Keelan, they needed to think about ways to remedy that lack.
“In that case, let’s keep him occupied here until I return. He might like to take advantage of St. Tomo’s library to learn more about the Narthani and Caedellium. Maybe he can find clues to where his homeland is or at least narrow down the possibilities. Maera, he thought you had been a good source of such knowledge while you were at St. Sidryn’s. You could show him the library and see if he can find anything of interest to him and useful for us. You can also introduce him to the scholastics at St. Tomo’s. From Sistian’s letters, I’d imagine there are some mutual interests. He can look into expanding his enterprises to Caernford, as long as he’s here. Plus, there must be local sights of interest to show him. I also think Vortig and Petr need to spend some time with him. I’ll speak with them both and leave the rest to you to find ways to keep him interested until I return.”
Maera nodded respectfully, careful not to smile.
Yes. I’ll find ways to spend time with Yozef. And we shall see what happens.
“All right. I think we have a plan for the next sixdays. I’ll speak with the man who drove Kolsko’s carriage here, Puvey something, and see if he has anything useful to add.”
Carnigan and the Hetman
A Keelan retainer tracked down Carnigan Puvey in Caernford, in time for the big man to get to the hetman’s manor before Culich left for Hewell. Culich had glimpsed the man and knew from that momentary distant view that Puvey was big. But this big? Culich thought of himself as a good-sized man, though he was aware of starting the shrinkage that came with age. Still, there were few men much bigger than the Keelan hetman, and this was his first experience of being in the presence of a man who made him feel truly small. Puvey might only have an inch or two in height advantage, but his width and solidness were intimidating.
“Hetman,” Puvey stated in a voice Culich suspected meant, “Okay, here I am. What is it you want?”
“Ser Puvey, I understand you’ve been at St. Sidryn’s for three years and that you came originally from Swavebroke Province. You’re not a brother at St. Sidryn’s, are you?”
“You’ll have to ask Abbot Beynom about that.”
Culich almost grumbled at the man to answer but restrained himself. He would ask Sistian, and the purpose of this meeting was Yozef Kolsko.
“All right. Ser Kolsko has made quite a name for himself in so short a time. You’ve interacted with him since he arrived in Caedellium. I’ve spoken with him and will want to speak with him again when I return from travel. However, I want to hear any impressions or information you might have about Ser Kolsko.”
“What kind of information?”
“I’m not sure myself. Perhaps we can discuss a few of your experiences with him, and I’ll see if anything useful occurs during the discussion. For example, did you see him during the courtyard fight at St. Sidryn’s?”
“He fought beside me.”
“Would you say he’s an experienced fighter?”
Carnigan laughed. “Hah! It might have been the first time in his life he ever held a weapon.”
“You mean a musket or a sword?”
“I mean anything. Even a real knife. I gave him a spear and told him not to stick me with it.”
“Did he actually use the spear?”
“He may have saved my life. I was fighting two Buldorians when another got to my side. I couldn’t tur
n to face him, and Yozef stuck him before he did me.”
Culich probed for another hour, learning little except the protective nature of Puvey’s regard for Kolsko. Later that evening Culich related his meeting with Puvey to Breda.
“Once again, this Kolsko gives conflicting impressions. Puvey says Kolsko was totally inexperienced with any kind of weapon, yet he stood with the others when the time came. I think Puvey admires him because he was scared and didn’t let that prevent him from doing what he could. I also think Puvey considers Kolsko a friend and perhaps something more. I’m not sure what. I guess I would call it a . . . commitment to Kolsko, although I don’t know exactly what that entails.”
They continued their meal, Culich missing the coy smile that played along the corners of his wife’s mouth and eyes.
Chapter 14: Lingering in Caernford
Yozef’s third morning at Keelan Manor started like the first: being awakened by knocking at the cottage door. Once again, Norlin waited with a basket. The difference this morning was that Yozef’s head didn’t throb from too much wine. He’d eaten the last two nights’ meals with Carnigan at the Galloping Horse Inn, whose beer left no aftereffects.
“Good morning, Ser Kolsko,” chirped Norlin, who never seemed to be in a bad mood.
Which could eventually get annoying, thought Yozef. There are some times when not being in a good mood is normal. Then he smiled at himself. My, aren’t you in a good mood? No need to take it out on poor Norlin just because you think it’s time to head back to Abersford.
Yozef and Maera had hardly spoken, except at the first evening’s dinner, and then only a few perfunctory words. She toured him around the Keelan Manor grounds after his first meeting with her father, and her youngest sister persisted in accompanying them, oblivious to Maera’s attempts to shed her sibling. Then her father had called on her to aid in correspondence. That was the last time he’d seen her that day.
Only by his disappointment at how the visit had so far gone did he realize how much he’d looked forward to seeing her again. The day of the picnic, away from Abersford, kept rising in his consciousness. He’d enjoyed being with her that day, and the kiss had been spontaneous. He thought she responded, then . . . what? She’d cut him cold on the way back to the abbey, although her later letters from Caernford hinted of overtures that things were okay between them, though maybe only in the formalities, not the personal. If true, did that bother him? He shrugged mentally. It was worth the trip to meet the hetman and to settle whatever existed between him and Maera.
And what did I suppose there might be? For Christ’s sake, she’s a hetman’s daughter, their version of royalty. Did I imagine an affair or a fairytale ending was plausible?
Then there was the hetman. They’d met twice the second day, when Culich announced he’d be away a sixday and informed Yozef he’d being staying longer than initially planned to meet with other clan leaders, and then the hetman would meet with Yozef again when he returned. Yozef was not pleased.
He was ready to return to Abersford. He appreciated the opportunity to meet the hetman, and his evaluation of the clan’s leader was positive. Culich Keelan fit Yozef’s image of a beloved but stern Scottish laird. What he didn’t discern was a sense of the hetman’s personality, except for the inattentive assumption that Yozef would remain at the hetman’s convenience. Satisfied when Yozef reluctantly agreed to linger, Culich ended their meeting, and Yozef had returned to his room and continued working on his thermodynamics notes.
“And good morning to you, Norlin. And how are you this day?”
“Just fine, Ser Kolsko. Just fine.”
“What about our agreement when we’re alone?”
Norlin grinned. “Well, I wasn’t sure you were serious . . . Yozef.”
“That’s more like it. And your scholasticum work? How’s that going?” Yozef had learned from Norlin that the fourteen-year-old was attending the St. Tomo’s scholasticum, with an eye to become a medicant. To meet the “inventor” of ether had, by the boy’s own statement, been one of the most exciting things in his life.
Poor kid.
“All fine there, too,” Norlin said cheerfully. “I have examinations in herbs and surgery this afternoon.”
Jesus! He’s even in a good mood with tests coming up.
Norlin set a basket on the table and started laying out the morning meal. First the jug of kava and bowl of fruit, then something novel. Norlin set a folded cloth on the table.
For a moment, Yozef didn’t register what the cloth must be for. A napkin? Caedelli were not quite stereotypic medieval diners, eating with fingers and throwing bones to the dogs, but hands were the norm for wiping food from lips. When necessary, the ubiquitous “handkerchiefs” that all men and women kept with them were used, the same cloths used for wiping sweat and blowing noses.
Further surprises came when Norlin removed the covers from two ceramic plates.
As I live and breathe!
Sitting in front of Yozef were what appeared to be an omelet and a stack of butter-lathered toast. A momentary feeling of disorientation washed over him, as his mind flashed back to Earth and his previous life. Omelets, napkins, toast, cars, television, Julie, Berkeley, 49ers, Giants, squabbling Democrats and Republicans, and a hundred other images kaleidoscoped as they were recalled and faded. His chest ached with a pang such as he had not felt in many months. He swallowed hard.
“Are you all right, Yozef?”
He looked up at a worried Norlin.
“Is there something wrong? The cook was unsure whether everything was done properly, since she had never prepared such food. Sen Maera told her what to do and said it was foods common to your people.”
Maera? She would have given the instructions to the cook. She, along with the Faughns, among others, had recoiled at eating eggs any way except boiled or scrambled—and forget poached and fried with runny yolks. He had explained and demonstrated French toast and omelets more than a year ago. The former had taken off, but not omelets.
“No, no, Norlin,” he reassured quickly, “just surprised to see the omelet and toast.”
“Oh. Is that what they’re called? Which one is the omelet and which one toast?”
Norlin, once apprised of the correct nomenclatures, excused himself with the message that Sen Maera expected him at the manor house after eating, to discuss his schedule for the next sixday.
Schedule?
Now that sounded like Maera. Always wanting to organize.
He took a bite of toast. Not bad. Just about the degree of toasting he liked. As for the omelet, he assumed the eggs were from ducks the Caedelli raised. He had never eaten a duck egg before coming to Anyar and had gotten used to the difference in taste. The cheese inside the omelet was too pungent, and inside were flecks of a chopped green and pieces of smoked meat he suspected was coney, the rabbit-sized indigenous mammals grown for meat. An omelet from Earth it wasn’t. Somehow he didn’t mind. While he tried not to read too much into the actions of others, he wondered whether this was a gesture from Maera. He found his mood markedly improved.
An hour later, Norlin returned and informed him that Maera was expecting him at the manor house. She met him in the large parlor, where chairs and tables provided several sitting areas. She sat in one of three armchairs surrounding what on Earth would have been a coffee table. Breda Keelan sat thirty feet away at the other end of the room in another furniture cluster, knitting. The mother smiled and greeted Yozef, as Norlin dropped him off and indicated the waiting Maera.
Is the mother chaperoning?
When he walked over to where the hetman’s daughter sat, she put down a book and rose to greet him. She wore a long form-fitting dark green dress that hung to the floor. Slipper-like shoes peeked out from folds of the fabric. The neckline was deep enough to more than suggest the swell of her chest and exposed a goodly stretch of skin. She wore no jewelry, and her hair was held out of her face by a silver clip on the side opposite the part. Her arms were bare to nea
r her shoulders.
You know, she is quite fetching, rose by its own volition in Yozef’s mind.
Maera’s attire and presentation were carefully designed. Her mother had long ago advised that different shades of green were her best colors, matching her skin tone and greenish eyes. The two women picked the dress as both appropriate for a hetman’s daughter and to remind any male of her feminine form. From his glances, Maera assumed the dress had succeeded, and she, in turn, noted his appearance.
He was dressing better since he’d arrived here, more so than she’d seen in Abersford. She again saw an average-sized man of his middle twenties. His brown hair and beard were neatly trimmed. There were no standard styles for either with Caedellium men, and she was pleased that Yozef favored shorter cuts. She remembered the tingling of his beard surrounding his lips.
She rose to greet him. “Thank you for coming, Ser Kolsko.”
Yozef smiled. “Do you think you and I could once again use our first names?”
She smiled back, almost shyly. “Yes, let’s do that . . . Yozef.”
“Great . . . Maera. So, what has the hetman planned for me to do while he’s away?”
She didn’t miss the sarcastic tone. “Oh, Yozef, he’s really quite a warm person and not . . . what was the word you and Carnigan called me that day at the beach? Stuffy?”
“Are you saying that your father is never stuffy?”
Maera laughed, loudly enough that her mother looked up from the other end of the large room.
“Yes, yes, I’ll concede that he can seem that way. When you know him better, you’ll find you won’t notice it as much.”
“I won’t notice it, or he won’t be stuffy?”
“Perhaps both.” Maera smiled again, then picked up a piece of paper. Even upside-down, Yozef could see the neat script and bullet points running down the paper.
“Father’s requested you to meet with Vortig Luwis and Pedr Kennrick. They’re both advisors, Pedr more on internal clan affairs and Vortig on what you call military matters. Father would like them to meet with you and discuss some of the same issues you and he have already discussed and questions they might have. He also requested that they meet with you separately, so he can get independent reports from them. Pedr will be here in about an hour, and we’ll see Vortig at the Caernford armory after midday meal.”
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 16
