For the next three days, he ate with the Keelan women twice a day. He noticed the younger daughters acting conspiratorially at the first morning meal, and Mared later told him her parents normally ate that meal alone, as their personal time together.
Ceinwyn, the next oldest daughter, remained initially aloof, then suddenly thawed the second morning and thereafter. The two younger daughters, Anid and Mared, took it upon themselves to further educate Yozef in Caedelli customs and idioms. They provided many a laugh, as they explained local idioms, and he in turn explained a few of those from America. While neither “happy as a clam” or “blast from the past” translated, “foot in the door,” “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen,” and “smoke and mirrors” were favorably received. In contrast, he didn’t understand why “putting the horse on the roof” was so funny and had to wait for Carnigan to explain why “cold soup and sausage,” mentioned by Anid, brought on a reprimand from Breda and a blush from Maera.
Yozef’s last three days before Culich’s return were filled with more scholastics meetings, a final trip to the St. Tomo’s library to prioritize readings to be translated, and excursions to Caernford and the surroundings. A common thread those days was the ever-present Maera. On the second to last day before the hetman returned, they walked from St. Tomo’s library across the cobblestone courtyard to their waiting carriage, when Maera offered to show him a panoramic view of Caernford from a ridgeline to the east.
“It’s one of my favorite places, and I haven’t been there for many months.”
“Sounds nice,” Yozef said. “When would be the best time of day for the view?”
“Mid-day is best, or early afternoon is when the sun gives the best light.” Maera looked away, and he caught a change in the tone of her voice. “We might also take a basket and have one of your ‘picnics’ while we’re there.”
Yozef stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of a cobblestone, as his attention diverted to her words. It was the first time she’d mentioned that day. He’d intended to bring up the subject several times, yet always hesitated.
“Why . . . yes. That would be nice,” was all he managed to say.
They met the next mid-morning in front of the manor, and she drove a small dray pulled by a gentle gray gelding up a winding road to the hilltop about three switchbacking miles from the manor. As promised, the view was panoramic. Although only fifteen hundred feet above the valley floor, there were no obscuring hills or trees. They could see ten miles north and south and four miles straight across to the western hills. They stopped several times for views and Maera’s verbal travelogue but didn’t linger, since she cautioned the weather was changeable at the top, which proved prescient. When they arrived at an open overlook near mid-day, a wind came over a higher ridgeline to the east, picking up the still air. They pulled up behind a screen of trees, shielded from the rising wind, yet still having a clear view down the valley.
Maera was tense. She had chewed over all thoughts, feelings, advantages, and disadvantages for several sixdays before Yozef came to Caernford and even more so after his arrival, and she’d talked with her mother. She argued endlessly with herself and finally had to console herself that she wasn’t certain, though what in life was? She could spend eternity debating with herself all of the reasons marrying Yozef was a good idea and all of the reasons it wasn’t.
She finally decided this was the day, if she was to go forward. They had received a semaphore message that her father would be home the next day, and Yozef was certain to leave a day or two later.
“As I told you, Yozef, the weather up here can change quickly. I know it’s not quite time for mid-day meal, but perhaps we should eat, in case the weather forces an early return to the manor.”
“Sounds fine. We can set everything out and then eat at leisure. If the weather worsens, we can pack up and still haven eaten.”
He started to get the basket from the wagon. Maera beat him to it, moved quickly to a flat area, and pulled out a cloth to eat on. There was still time to change her mind and say nothing. Focusing on the basket contents gave her more moments to dither.
“Here, let me help you.”
Maera found herself irritated at him for offering to help, since she was into delaying.
You ninny, she chastised herself. Here he is making an offer to help and you’re annoyed.
She ignored how cold her hands were as they set out the meal. Yozef noticed when their hands casually touched while exchanging a woven basket holding bread.
“Are you cold, Maera? Do you need something warmer from the dray?”
Oh, God. I’m nervous. No, more than nervous. Afraid. That he might say no. Afraid he might say yes. Am I going to back out now and say nothing?
He waited, concerned when she didn’t answer immediately. It was the expression on his face that brought back to mind all of the reasons to go forward.
“Yozef, do you still think of your home and family?”
“Of course. I always will.”
“If you had the opportunity, would you leave Caedellium and go back?”
“That’s a difficult question. Although America was my home, I’ve been making a different life here for two years. I suppose it’s a sign of how much I feel the ties I have here that it would be a difficult decision. However, I don’t believe there will ever be a choice, since I see no possibility I’ll return to America. I’m here on Caedellium, and this is where any future I have will be lived.”
She heard a trace of regret in his voice and resignation.
“What do you see as your future life here? You have all of your enterprises, but what else? Are those enough? Will you stay in Keelan or someday move to a different province? Have a family at some point?”
Yozef sat back and regarded her. Her manner and questions made it clear there was a serious conversation underway; he just didn’t know what the topic was yet.
“As for keeping busy, yes, there’s enough here to keep me busy for the rest of my life.” There was a wryness to the statement, as if there was more to the answer than explicit in the words.
“Moving from Keelan? I doubt it. I’m established in Abersford. I know the people, have friends, and expect to be spending the rest of my life there.”
“And someday having a wife and children?”
He didn’t answer right away, busying himself with laying out the basket contents.
Did that question bother him? I wonder if he’s aware everyone knows he’s the father of Bronwyn’s child?
It was information she’d learned by the end of her first sixday at St. Sidryn’s.
“I suppose so,” Yozef said. “When I think of all of these questions, I wonder about the Narthani and what will happen. Bringing children into an uncertain future is always something to carefully consider.”
“Isn’t that always the case? Children are a commitment to create a future,” Maera said, looking serene and assured for the first time that day.
“Yes,” said Yozef, “although for a thoughtful person, one who recognizes the uncertainties I’m afraid Caedellium faces, it takes a brave person to commit to that future.”
She agreed with his answer, but she knew she was only delaying. More preliminary questions arrayed themselves in her mind, though none that needed to be asked or answered.
This is it. Time to quit asking questions, or, as Filtin says is one of Yozef’s favorite expressions, “Shit or get off the pot.”
She took a deep breath, her pulse racing. Her hands were cold, her throat dry. She swallowed. Twice.
“Yozef, I like you, and I believe you like me. I know I’m more comfortable around you than anyone else in my life, except for Mother and Anarynd. Being the hetman’s eldest daughter, and of a hetman with no sons, brings expectations and responsibilities. One of the most important is to produce heirs for the family and clan. Yozef . . . I would be interested in marrying you and having those heirs.”
Oh, Merciful God, she thought, cringing, i
f that wasn’t the most pathetic offer of marriage in the history of Caedellium, I hate to think what the worst was! Like I was explaining a logical reason for choosing wine or beer to go with evening meal!
Yozef stared at her, his face blank. Seconds passed.
He’s not interested. He’s thinking of a way to tell me politely!
“Well,” he said finally. “That was unexpected.”
More seconds passed.
Well, what’s your answer?! part of her wanted to yell. Once having blurted out the proposal, she wanted it settled—yes or no.
Yozef was truthful when he said her offer of marriage was unexpected. Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to him in passing, but the uncertainties, given her status, his status, and how either of them felt about the other had all weighed against his giving it serious consideration. Everything now changed, and his mind raced through implications and complications and delved quickly into how he felt about her.
Did he want to be married to her? She was attractive enough, though not a beauty. Smart as a whip, maybe more so than himself, even with whatever the Watchers did to him. She’d said she was comfortable around him. While that was not a dying declaration of love, maybe it was at least as important.
Did he love her? He couldn’t say he could utter the words and honestly know he meant them. But he liked her and was as comfortable with her as she evidently was with him—or as comfortable as he was liable to be when he couldn’t tell all of the truth about who he really was and how he’d gotten to Anyar.
There were the practical advantages. Being married to the hetman’s daughter would solidify his status here even more than all of his innovations. He would be accepted as a Caedelli, even if a naturalized one. He wanted to introduce as much knowledge as he could and as the civilization here could absorb, and to be part of a hetman’s family would provide blowback protection from people or institutions that might not like what he was doing.
And she’s right. If I don’t live in the here and now, then I give up the future.
His attention focused back on Maera, sitting on the cloth, legs folded under her, hands clenched in her lap, a pale face and wide eyes staring at him.
Once again, to be honest and objective, am I likely to get a better option for a wife? was his last chiding thought.
Her patience, never one of her sterling qualities, capitulated. “If you don’t want to marry me, I’ll understand,” she squeezed out. “Forgive me for surprising you with such an unseemly proposal.” Her mind had already begun processing that he was going to refuse, wondering how she would tell her mother, and dreading how she might feel after having committed herself.
“Sorry for being quiet, Maera, but you must admit your proposal was both a surprise and something that doesn’t warrant or deserve a quick response.”
So, what’s the answer?! she wanted to scream.
He paused, ran a hand down his pant leg, and tugged at his beard. His eyes roamed from her face down her body, then stared off toward the valley below. Yozef’s first reaction had been surprise, the second was that he should take time to consider before making any commitment. How did he feel about her? How did he feel about marriage? And in this world, that meant children, plural.
Why do I need more time? To say no? What about her father? She hasn’t indicated that he knows anything about this. Maybe he’ll shitcan the whole idea. In this culture, if the father says no, then that’d be it. How would I feel then? Look at her. She looks nervous, afraid to be disappointed, and angry I haven’t already answered.
Poor Maera. Someone that smart trying to fit into the pre-made molds of this society. In many ways, I may well be the best match she would ever find on the island.
The same could be said for me. I’m never going to share everything with anyone here, not even a wife. Maera may the closest I could come. She’s smart and inquisitive. She would be a help in anything I try to introduce. And I’m attracted to her. The kiss on the picnic was spontaneous, and the time we’ve spent the last sixday has only reinforced that attraction. Didn’t she just solve for me my indecision on how to follow up?
Hell, sometimes you just gotta go with a gut feeling.
He turned his focus back to her. Her jaw was clamped, her breath deep and halting, fingers rhythmically clenching and relaxing.
“Yes, Maera. I would very much like to marry you.”
She went limp where she sat. Unbidden tears came to her eyes, whether from joy at the answer or relief at having any answer, she didn’t know. She swallowed, started to respond and felt a croak coming, stopped, and swallowed again.
“That’s . . . good . . . I’m pleased.” Well, God! What else am I supposed to say!?
Yozef, bless him, once more came to her rescue. “What’s your father going to say?”
Given a concrete problem to focus on, Maera regained her composure.
“I’ll take care of Father. If necessary, Mother will help.”
“There are, of course, many things to talk about,” said Yozef. “When would the marriage take place? That is, how long before the formalities are taken care of, once we have your father’s approval?”
Maera was in her element, planning details. “I think three to four sixdays from now, assuming Father gives permission when he returns.”
“That soon?” Yozef chuckled. “And not even a shotgun wedding or the bride in trouble.”
“Shotgun? And why would I have trouble?”
“Never mind, just some expressions from English. They don’t translate well into Caedelli.”
A sudden gust of wind took the lid off one of the food baskets. It sailed off downslope and disappeared into a clump of brush, as they took first notice of the changing weather—their having been engaged in becoming engaged. Cloud cover obscured the sun, and the wind whipped the tree branches.
“Perhaps we should eat and start back to the manor.”
And they did eat . . . quietly. Maera passed morsels they had laid out to Yozef, who took them from her hand. Several times he held her hand momentarily. The first time she flinched, then held back in return. No words were said. They ate faster, as the air chilled and the sky darkened with thickening clouds rising over the ridgeline. Finished, they had repacked the remnants of the meal, folded up the cloth, and put everything back in the dray when she was about to climb up into the seat. He put a hand on her arm and turned her toward him.
“The day I kissed you at Abersford, I was afraid I’d done something terribly inappropriate, and you were mad at me. Especially when you wouldn’t talk to me afterward.”
“I was confused,” said Maera, “and unsure of what I both should say or wanted to say.”
He looked down to her from his six-inch advantage. At the moment, she seemed smaller than he remembered.
Or maybe it’s just her personality that makes her seem bigger.
“Now that we’ve agreed to marry, I think another kiss is appropriate.”
Her irises widened, and she leaned closer. “Yes, a reasonable suggestion.”
This second kiss was longer than the first. This time, she didn’t break off suddenly, but it ended on its own, as she lowered her head against his chest. He kept both arms around her and held her body to his, gently but firmly. Even with their heavy clothing, he could feel the mounds of her breasts. He ended the embrace with his hands stroking her back and arms. She was flushed and breathing heavily.
“There,” he said. “Let’s consider that the first sign of our coming marriage.”
She nodded without words, and they returned quickly to the manor, arriving just as the threatening weather turned into reality and a driving rain covered the valley. A man sped over to hold the horse, as Yozef gave Maera a hand from the dray, and they ran to the veranda’s shelter. There, he held and drew her to him. She put a hand on his chest.
“It’s best if we don’t give ourselves away until we talk to Mother and Father. It’s only proper for a hetman’s daughter.”
He smiled. “
No problem, Maera. I can wait for tomorrow before the next kiss.”
She blushed and squeezed his hand. “I’ll take the basket in and see you at evening meal.”
Neither of them talked to anyone else the rest of the afternoon, each within a private world of thoughts, wondering whether they’d made the right decision, each not knowing but still anticipatory.
Evening meal was interesting. When the family members gathered in their usual places at the table, only the two middle sisters were oblivious that something had changed. Breda knew, because she and Maera had already talked about broaching Yozef that day, and Maera’s awkward flush and sideways looks to Yozef told her all that she needed. Mared, the youngest daughter, was probably as sharp as Maera and had several days ago discerned what was going on between her sister and the strange but nice man from Abersford. Ceinwyn and Anid were clueless about events, yet couldn’t help but notice Maera’s mood. Ceinwyn actually became concerned that Maera was ill when one of her catty remarks was sloughed off with a wan smile.
After the meal, the three younger daughters were excused by Breda, to their protestations, because even Ceinwyn finally realized something was up. When the protesters had exited, and their mother checked the door for dallying ears, Maera broke the news.
“Mother, Yozef and I have decided to be married.”
“That’s nice, dear.”
Red flags hoisted in Yozef’s mind at the equanimity of Breda’s response.
That’s nice? Your daughter, the eldest child of the clan’s hetman, announces she’s marrying someone not even from the island, and that’s all you say? Something tells me this isn’t news to her.
“Now we’ll have to see what your father says,” Breda added, smiling.
That confirms it. It’s a conspiracy. I was the first target, and now it’s the father’s turn. He may be hetman of all of the Keelanders, but I suspect he’s overmatched.
Despite this thought, Yozef still wondered exactly what Culich Keelan’s response would be and whether he should alert Carnigan to have himself and the carriage ready for a quick departure.
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 18
