“‘Oh, really, hmm, didn't know that,’ the Keelander says. Puzzled, the first Morelander walks back to his friends. ‘I told him Hetman Keelan was a drunken lout, and he didn't seem to care.’ The second Morelander says, ‘You just don't know how to make him mad. Watch and . . .”
Yozef worked through the story, but at the punch line Carnigan wasn’t impressed. His craggy brow scrunched as he went over the joke. “The first one . . . then the second . . . then . . . ah! I get it! A good one, Yozef. Though not one of your better ones. I had to think about it for a moment before I got it.”
The rest of the evening, Yozef worked at diverting his thoughts from whatever was happening at Keelan Manor. Later, he walked the two miles back to his visitor’s quarters on the manor grounds to find a note from Maera slipped under the door. He was to meet with her father the next morning.
A restless night later, the meeting in the hetman’s study started off much as Yozef predicted. The hetman sat behind his expansive desk, not bothering to invite Yozef to sit.
“So you think you’re a suitable person to marry the daughter of a hetman, are you?” were the first words out of Culich’s mouth.
So that how it’s going to be.
Yozef didn’t know whether Maera’s father was mad or playing a role. Either way, he gauged that backing down wouldn’t impress the hetman.
“Frankly, Hetman, not only do I not care if she’s your daughter, that’s a good reason not to marry her and avoid the complications of a hetman’s family. I want to marry Maera despite the fact that she’s your daughter.” As Yozef said the words, for the first time he recognized that they were true. He was surprised when the events had percolated for a day, and the idea of marrying Maera made him smile. He liked her and assumed she liked him enough to propose marriage. She was smart and attractive, and he remembered the curves pressed against his body as they kissed. The advantages to marrying into the hetman’s family faded to secondary considerations.
Culich’s tone softened. “You realize she has obligations to the clan?”
“I know she feels responsibilities, and I’d do nothing to discourage those feelings. My main concern would be for her wellbeing, as well as that of any children we have. I understand there is an expectation that one or more of her sons might be a candidate to be the next hetman. I believe we can agree that having a broad education and being raised to be responsible would both satisfy my hopes for the children and be an appropriate basis for whatever other training you might deem necessary.”
“I want you to realize that by marrying Maera, you would be accepting some responsibilities to the clan.”
“I don’t see that as a major problem. Keelan is my home, and here I’ll do my work, live the rest of my life, and have a family. I could hardly want anything but the best possible for the clan. I’d strive to be aware of formal obligations, as long as it doesn’t interfere too much with projects I believe are important to Keelan and all of Caedellium.”
“Then maybe we have a basis for further discussion,” said Culich, motioning for Yozef to sit in a chair facing the desk.
For the next half hour, Culich grilled Yozef on his background, covering the same questions as in previous meetings but pressing harder for details. Only once did Yozef take refuge in claiming his memory wasn’t perfect after his ordeal of arriving on Caedellium.
Interrupted
Culich Keelan’s return home from the hetmen meetings had gone differently than anticipated. The announcement of his daughter’s desire to marry a man her father had never met until a sixday ago, a man not even from Caedellium, and a man with no political connection to advantage the clan, all conspired to surprise Culich enough to need time to consider the implications for both the clan and his daughter. Not that he believed he would refuse permission. Maera’s assertion that she wanted to marry Kolsko, Breda’s support of the idea, Culich’s worry for Maera’s happiness, and the need for Keelan heirs all weighed toward his blessing.
What he didn’t convey even to Breda was, aside from all other considerations, his relief that Maera would still be part of the clan. He had dreaded that she would marry the son of another hetman and move permanently away from Keelan, potentially to a clan far enough distant they would see her only yearly, if that often.
He had planned on meeting and assessing Kolsko because of the man’s role in the defense of St. Sidryn’s and all of the innovations he was introducing. He hadn’t imagined evaluating him as a prospective husband for Maera. Now that he had, the man had made a favorable impression. Culich accepted all of the logical arguments presented by Maera and Breda, and either Kolsko was a skilled dissimulator or he honestly cared for Maera. Plus, he had a spine, something not apparent from earlier meetings.
Not that Culich was completely satisfied—although, as he considered the man sitting resolute, staring straight at the leader of the Keelan Clan and trying not to appear nervous, Culich was reassured. He would ask further questions, probe deeper into the man’s background and opinions, and gather more impressions of his reliability.
Culich was pondering what he should ask Kolsko next, when a staccato knock on his study door interrupted them.
“Come in,” he called out, irritated. He had given instructions not to be disturbed.
It was Breda. “Sorry, dear, for interrupting. A rider just came with what he says is an urgent message.”
The hetman’s irritation was replaced by foreboding. “Send him in.”
Quickly ushered in by Breda was a man in his late twenties, half-soaked from the intermittent showers still passing through from the system that caused Yozef and Maera’s abbreviated picnic. He wore riding gloves he removed as he strode into the study. With a short bow to the hetman, he opened a satchel at his side, withdrew a leather cylinder, and undid a flap at one end. He pulled out a rolled paper and handed it to Culich.
“A message from Boyerman Sarnin.”
Culich took the paper, scanned it quickly, then read more carefully. His face tightened. “Did you come direct from Dornfeld?”
“Yes, Hetman. I left Dornfeld with the message from Boyerman Sarnin. I changed horses six times to get here as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll have an answer ready within an hour,” said Culich. Looking at the man, he said, “You’re in no shape to take it. I’ll send another man.” He turned to his wife, who was watching anxiously, wondering about the message’s contents. “Breda, please send Norlin to summon Vortig and Pedr here immediately. Also, arrange quarters and food for this man.”
As curious as she was, she didn’t hesitate and hurried from the room.
“Do you know what’s in the message?” Culich asked the messenger. “Herwold’s your family, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Hetman. I’m Jaekel Herwold. And yes. He read it to me as he wrote.”
The man’s tired frame straightened on being recognized by the hetman whom he had only met once briefly ten years earlier. Such a remembrance of people and places was one of Culich’s skills.
“I’m sure there were more details than what is in the message. What can you tell me?”
“We see more and more Eywellese riders near the border; even a few times they crossed over in places near farms or roads. Boyerman Sarnin’s worried they’re testing the terrain in preparation for a major incursion such as happened in Moreland and Stent, as you warned about last month at the boyermen council.”
Most of the clanspeople in the sparsely populated Dornfeld district were concentrated on the narrow coastal plan north of the town of Dornfeld on the Gwillamer border. Duwid Sarnin served both as Dornfeld’s mayor and as Boyerman Dornfeld.
Herwold went to the Keelan map on the wall and placed a finger on the westernmost part of Keelan that poked through a mountain range to the Bay of Witlow. When Culich moved to the map, Yozef followed, standing behind the two men. Keelan land included no more than twenty miles of coast, and Dornfeld was the only settlement indicated on the map. The province and the clan of Eywell lay to the north.
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br /> “These sightings were along most of the coastal border to Eywell. Boyerman Sarnin sent men into the mountains north of the Dillagon Pass and found signs of encampments on Keelan land where men could observe the pass. At least once, they saw a group of four or five men moving north toward Eywell territory. Boyerman Sarnin also sent a group of men several times under darkness short distances into Eywell territory at places along the border where there had been several of these incursions. They found signs of many horsemen and went farther and found a major encampment, estimated at about five hundred Eywellese and the same number of Narthani not three miles from the border. The boyerman’s worried, Hetman.”
“As well he should be, Herwold,” said Culich. “A thousand men? That close to the border? And who knows if there might be other encampments nearby?”
Culich was pleased with Sarnin. It had taken initiative to send men across the border and risk incitements, if it turned out nothing serious was underway.
Good man, he thought.
“If I remember correctly, Sarnin should be able to muster about three hundred men.”
“More like three hundred and twenty, Hetman.”
Culich looked at the map for several minutes, his finger tracing roads and features and at other moments stroking his beard. Breda and Maera returned, interrupting his thinking.
“Summons are off to Vortig and Pedr,” said Breda. “They should be here within half an hour.”
“We also summoned the Caernford semaphore station manager and Vortig’s son Mulron, as commander of the Caernford garrison,” Maera added.
Good girl, Culich thought. He’d need to send messages to the other clans about his worries and let them know he’d be going personally to assess what was happening near Dornfeld. Getting Mulron Luwis to the manor would save time from Vortig having to send for his son himself.
Culich noticed Maera rocking on both feet, rubbing her hands together, and casting furtive glances at Kolsko.
She’s likely wondering how my meeting with her potential husband went.
Thinking of Kolsko drew his attention to the man standing to one side, listening. Culich still wanted to talk to Kolsko some more, although he doubted that he wouldn’t give permission for the marriage.
Culich glanced at Kolsko again. Abbot Sistian wrote that the man had interesting comments about the Narthani intentions. I wonder—
“I suppose you’ll be going to Dornfeld,” Breda said, her voice breaking into his train of thought.
“Yes, yes, yes. I need to talk directly with Sarnin and see for myself what’s happening.”
“You’ll be needing a carriage again. It’s three hundred miles there and back by road, and you just got home from an even longer ride. I hate to think what this is going to do to your joints. I could hear them complaining at morning meal. I’ll see to extra cushioning on the carriage benches.”
His wife was right. His trip north had also been by carriage to meet the Adris and Hewell hetmen and later to the Pawell/Bevens meeting. His back, legs, and butt still complained vociferously and now would have to endure another trip.
For the next few minutes, Culich questioned Herwold further and studied the map until those summoned arrived. When all four were present, and Culich had input from his main advisors, he was decisive.
“Vortig, you’ll accompany me to Dornfeld. Bring thirty men from the Caernford garrison as escort. Mulron will be in charge here while we’re gone. We’ll call on the Shamir and Nylamir districts to gather a hundred men each and get them moving to Dornfeld. They should be there by the time we arrive. We’ll also alert the same districts, along with all the others, to be prepared to send more men, if necessary. I assume Sarnin will have all capable Dornfeld district men mustered.”
Culich turned to the red-haired Kennrick. “Pedr, I leave you in charge here in Caernford for clan affairs. Hopefully, it won’t be necessary, but if this is something major happening, you’ll be responsible for mobilizing whatever’s needed from here.”
Kennrick nodded.
Culich looked around. Maera and the semaphore manager leaned over a table, composing semaphore messages to the other clans and Keelan boyermen close to semaphore lines. They wrote messages to boyermen out of semaphore range and drafted a response to Boyerman Sarnin in Dornfeld. Things were in motion. Culich’s eyes lit again on Kolsko, who had edged up to the map on the wall, as the others drifted away.
“Yozef,” Culich spoke up.
Only Maera and Breda noticed it was the first time Culich used his first name.
“I want you to come, too. You’ll ride with me, and we can continue our discussions while you get to see more of Keelan. Plus, I’d like to hear your views on what we find at Dornfeld.”
Maera started to say something, but her mother stopped her with a hand to her daughter’s shoulder and a slight shake of the head.
For Yozef, it was a matter of “Now what?” He’d come to Caernford for a short visit at the veiled order of the hetman, got “engaged” to his daughter, and now the old fart wanted to drag him off to who knew what?!
He was tempted to beg off, but a look from the women stopped him. He sighed. He was stuck. Oh, well. It would give him a chance to let the hetman become more comfortable with him marrying Maera, assuming he didn’t screw up by saying something wrong. Culich was right that Yozef would see more of Keelan, plus he should learn more about the inner workings of the clan just by observing the hetman. However, why Culich wanted Yozef’s input on whatever was happening at Dornfeld was beyond him.
The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, with Yozef on the outskirts. His only responsibility was to get himself ready, which wasn’t hard, since he hadn’t brought much from Abersford.
Whatever help he needed was provided by Maera. A pair of fur-lined gloves and a parka appeared. “You’ll be going through the Dillagon Pass, and it gets cold at that altitude.” A pouch of dry sausage, hard cheese, and crackers. “You’ll be fed on the way, but you might get hungry.”
She sounds like my mother.
The final items Maera pressed on Yozef were a brace of flintlock pistols and a wicked-looking knife. “You didn’t bring any weapons with you. The other men will likely take care of any danger, but you can never be sure.”
The biggest item of all, and one that wouldn’t fit into the carriage, was Carnigan. Yozef first saw him talking to Maera. The big man shrugged, nodded to her, and came over to Yozef.
“I’ve been asked to come along as a second driver to the hetman’s carriage.” The big man laughed. “And to look after you, so you don’t fall off the carriage or drown in a foot-deep creek on the way.”
The party gathered, ate a mid-day meal on the veranda, and was ready. Yozef was about to climb into the carriage when Maera called his name, came up to him, and gave him a quick kiss, then turned and went back inside the manor. Stunned silence from the gathering was followed by whispers, as word passed to those not looking in the right direction. Something big was going on with this man, who was a stranger to most of the Caernford men. Not only had Maera, of all people, kissed the man but right in front of the hetman, who hadn’t reacted.
Into the carriage climbed Culich, the elder Luwis, and Yozef, with the driver and Carnigan on top, and they were off: carriage, thirty-one horsemen, eight pack horses, and eight spare horses. Breda’s estimate of the road distance to Dornfeld meant that even pushing the pace, it would take the rest of that day and every daylight hour during the next to reach their destination.
The roads were mainly dirt, with occasional gravel sections. Even with their well-maintained condition, the jouncing of the carriage was continuous. They changed horses five times, stopping once to sleep four hours. Yozef found the trip to Dornfeld interesting. He talked more with Culich and Luwis, mainly rehashing previous conversations with Luwis and Kennrick. Yozef thought he hadn’t contradicted himself any more than in any normally repeated interchange and managed to cover any inconsistencies. Not that they spent the entire
time talking. Most of the time they looked at the land they were passing through.
Yozef also spent hours on top with Carnigan, who, on the second day, told him that Maera had volunteered him for the trip to take care of the prospective bridegroom.
“You devil.” Carnigan chortled. “I leave you alone for a couple of days, and you cozy up to the hetman’s daughter. And to Maera! People will start to wonder if you’re an archangel come to Anyar or a complete idiot. Not that I don’t like Maera Keelan,” Carnigan hastened to add, seeing Yozef’s face start to darken, “but you must admit she’d be a handful for anyone.”
Yozef relaxed. “If she has a problem with people, it’s only because of them and not her.”
“That may be true, Yozef,” he said seriously, “but then it’s only more to your credit, and people will come to see that. Since you kissed her in the hetman’s presence, does this mean there might be a wedding coming?”
“It’s not settled. Hetman Keelan still has to give consent.”
“Do you think you’d even still be within Keelan or that he’d ask you to come on this trip, if he wasn’t going to approve? I also wouldn’t want to be the one arguing with Sen Maera once she makes up her mind.”
The image of Carnigan being intimidated by Maera brought forth the image of a Chihuahua confronting a mastiff, until he substituted Maera and Carnigan in place of the dogs. Then it didn’t seem so preposterous.
“There’s something else. I never told Maera about Bronwyn or the child. I guess I didn’t know exactly what to say or how she’d react.”
“All that was before you married, so I don’t see a problem. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Maera already knows all about it. Remember who you’re marrying.”
Carnigan had a point.
Early the second day, they came within sight of the Dillagon Mountain foothills. The road’s grade gradually increased, as the air cooled and valley vegetation gave way to a succession of forests.
An hour had passed without Yozef and Carnigan talking, when Yozef lay a hand on the big shoulder in front of him. “Carnigan, it’s the custom with my people for what we call a ‘best man’ to present the man at a marriage. It’s usually a brother, a cousin, or a close friend. If a marriage happens between Maera and me, would you be my best man?”
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 21
