First lessons (Medieval Tale Book 1)

by Lina J. Potter

  “Did he write down your marriage anywhere?”

  “No. Lons asked him not to.”

  “He probably paid him not to. Fine. He tried to win you, but you’ll be the winner in the end. Let me do some investigating. If there are no records of the marriage, then just hold your tongue. Even if they threaten to cut you in pieces, just hold your tongue. You’re a young girl, as innocent as a daughter of Aldonai.”

  Anna nodded. “Gardwig will show me no mercy if he finds out.”

  “You just remember that.” The Jester patted her cheek. “Now, go to bed. You’ll be wiser in the morning.”

  Anna nodded. She reached around to unlace her bodice and never even noticed when the terrible man left her bedroom. He just disappeared.

  Lons was gone, too. From now on, she would have to be extremely cautious. If only this Richard person would marry me!

  The strong wine did its job, and Anna fell asleep. She dreamed of balls, jewels, and a host of suitors crowding around her. Each of them had one of two faces: Lons or the King’s Jester.

  ***

  Lily looked around the drawing room with a sense of accomplishment. She thought of herself as Lilian more often these days, and she felt no alienation from the name. What a difference a week could make! Everything pink in the whole castle was gone, except for Lilian’s dresses. All of the pink fabric had been carefully taken down from the walls. Lily would have given it all away—she was starting to feel like a Spanish bull at the sight of pink—but Emma tactfully reminded her, “Countess, this fabric cost an enormous sum of money!”

  Lily had no idea how much the fabric wall coverings cost, but she decided to find out where in her new homeland they made fabric. She carefully dropped a few hints, and Emma immediately picked up on what she wanted. The Widow Mattie was by no means simple. It turned out that silk (Lily was shocked to find that her walls had been covered with it) was only made in Elvana, on the border with the Vari Khanganat. She deduced that her father must have bought the pink fabric for her. It was a costly present. As the owner of several boatyards, he was a wealthy man and could afford such luxuries.

  With a firm hand, Lily gave three square yards of the silk to the three women who had worked the hardest. The others received copper coins. She could tell that none of them had expected such generosity from her. Emma did not approve—she knew the servants would have been happy to receive their pay in groceries—but the job was done.

  Once the silk came down, it revealed handsome oak panels. They darkened the room, but Lilian told the servants to dust and wax them. Once they were polished, they looked much better. Under the thick layer of straw on the floor, she found ancient stone tiles that looked like they could be marble. They would look better after a cleaning, as well. The room was dark, but anything was better than the awful pink and gold.

  Everything Lilian laid eyes on needed to be washed or dusted, and she ran around the castle giving orders. In the ballroom, she had them open the windows, dust, and toss out any dead mice they found. She ordered the guest bedrooms dusted and then kept closed for the time being. She wasn’t expecting guests, anyway.

  In the formal hall, the game room, and the ladies sitting room, Lilian ordered the servants to take down all the pink fabric. Then she had them wash everything in the house, even the ‘privy’. That done, she had them build an outhouse behind the castle. It was a standard army-style outhouse, with two doors marked M and W and three seats behind each. She informed the staff that anyone found answering the call of nature in the castle instead of the outhouse would be whipped as an example to the others.

  She had to make good on her word the very same day when she caught Peter urinating on an oak wall with carved panels. Instead of raising the roof right then, she just slipped around the corner as quietly as she could manage at her current size and went off to see her guards. They had been pleased to return to work at the castle, so when Lilian nodded at Peter and ordered ten lashes, no one argued with her. When no one was looking, she whispered to one of the guards that they shouldn’t break his skin. She wasn’t being merciful; she just didn’t want to have to treat him. Lily didn’t want to go down to the stable yard to watch the whipping, but she knew she had to. Everyone needed to know that this particular woman always did what she said she would. Otherwise, she’d never make any progress.

  She needed people to follow her orders. For now, she could lean on her title, her husband’s shadow on the horizon, and a small band of young men with strong arms and axes. Lily had only been able to locate two members of the castle’s old guard. The others had left the area looking for wars where they could hire on as mercenaries to feed their families. These two old-timers drilled the new guards whenever they had time, but they knew as well as Lily that it was just a drop in the ocean. And she needed every drop of help she could get.

  “Countess…”

  “Yes, Emma?”

  Lily turned and smiled. She couldn’t have made it without the woman before her. Emma was an expert at issuing commands, dressing down servants and throwing fits when necessary. Lily could do all those things, but she decided it would be better to have someone do it for her.

  Emma enjoyed the work, and Lily had time to write. She kept an eye on progress in the castle and swore at the servants when absolutely necessary, but she spent most of her time in the library writing out notes with a quill pen that splattered ink everywhere. She wrote out everything she remembered about medicine because she knew that if she didn’t use her knowledge, she was in danger of forgetting it.

  ***

  After two days spent writing, she took a day off to go see the blacksmith. The handsome young man was built like a large bookshelf. After about five minutes of drawing on the ground with a stick, he said he could make her several of the new metal quills she wanted, but he warned her that he wasn’t used to doing such fine work and begged her not to have him executed if something wasn’t quite right. Aliya thought for a moment and nodded. She would give him a chance. If he couldn’t do it, she would find someone else who could.

  A metal quill would be an improvement over a goose feather, and there would be demand for it. She also wanted to develop a non-spill inkwell, still primitive, but useful for merchants, sailors, and other travelers. The blacksmith understood and promised to make a prototype once he finished the quills. He could make plenty of inkwells; it wouldn’t be difficult. Lillian smiled. She needed money to improve the estate, and while goose-feather pens looked pretty, they were awful to write with. She hoped if she patented her metal quills, she could really make some money.

  ***

  “Countess, Father Vopler is here to see you.”

  Shoot! The priest must have heard of Etor’s departure and come to see what was going on. If I know anything about the church, he isn’t just here to look. He’ll expect to go away with something.

  Priests were no fools. In order to serve the church, a man had to be well educated for his time, with solid theological underpinnings and the ability to use psychological pressure, even bordering on hypnosis, to imperceptibly get information out of his flock.

  It’s game over.

  She would have to keep the interview brief, or he would see through her. To the peasants, she was just a countess with a gigantic attitude. Emma may have guessed at more, but a priest was a different matter. What do I do? She needed to scare him, but not too bad, and without making him mad; he could come in useful later.

  “Fine. Have him wait and give him something to eat.”

  “We have boiled vegetables, Countess. We also have buckwheat with meat and black bread, as you ordered…”

  “Then give him that,” Lily snorted. There was a gleeful twinkle in Emma’s eyes. Everyone in the castle was on the same diet. Lily had even given the keys to the food storeroom to Martha. Her stomach thought it was a bottomless barrel, so she wanted to keep temptation at bay.

  “Will you be changing clothes, My Lady?”

  Lily sighed. She suspected that Emma
was much more intelligent than she let on, and she probably had some ideas about her Lady’s strange behavior. But advantage was stronger than curiosity. As long as people felt that they were better off with the new Lily, they would support her.

  She couldn’t afford to alienate this priest, however, or cause him to suspect that there was something strange about her. Medieval religion was a powerful force.

  I have to humor him, but I won’t give him any money. Not a chance! Lily believed that priests were like gypsies—once given a handout they would never leave.

  “Call Martha or one of the girls to help me get ready.” She sighed and headed for her closet to choose her most ridiculous dress.

  It took about half an hour to put on everything she was supposed to wear. Lily was so nervous that she argued with the servant girl and stomped her foot. It shouldn’t take this long to change clothes and leave my room!

  What’s my plan? I have to get rid of him and make him never want to come back here. What do men hate most of all? Tears and argument. It doesn’t matter what year it is—a loud, highly strung woman is a force to be reckoned with.

  Looking like a gilded wedding cake, Lilian sailed into the drawing room and locked eyes with Father Vopler.

  ***

  He was an average male. Not bad, but not much to look at, either. His face had simple, serious features; he was well-built, and his hands looked downright aristocratic. Is he the son of a nobleman who graduated from university and was sent to serve the church in the sticks?

  Lilian Earton’s memory refused to be called up. She had never cared for trifling things like the village priest. After all, he wasn’t edible.

  Thankfully, Lily’s body did its part automatically, lowering itself onto one knee and making the sign of Aldonai with the right hand.

  “Give me your blessing, Father.”

  The priest slowly rose from his chair and put a hand on her head. “I bless you, child of light.”

  Lilian shuddered. Does he ever wash his hands?

  Their greeting complete, both landed in the nearest chair, Lily heavily and the priest with more elegance. They looked at the table. There wasn’t much to be happy about. The silver dishes held buckwheat with meat, slices of black bread, and a pile of sheep’s milk cheese. The soup tureen was full of steamed vegetables.

  Aliya considered it a perfectly acceptable lunch, but the priest was obviously dismayed.

  “My child, I have heard strange rumors…”

  Lily sighed. Her large eyes filled with tears. “Father, it was such a tragedy. Such a loss!” As soon as she remembered her parents, it was like a dam had opened, and tears ran down her face.

  Lily told him about the awful estate Comptroller who had abandoned her, about the loss of her baby, about her husband who had left her without money, and about anything else she could think of short of a failed turnip crop. After ten minutes of this, the priest was bored. After twenty minutes, he looked depressed. Lily had no intention of letting him go that easily.

  No, sir. You’re going to sit here with me until you make yourself forget the road to my house. Even if I invite you back, you won’t come. Lilian Earton might not have excelled at many things, but she knew how to throw a fit. Aliya used that talent in her own interests. All she had to do was start whining about her lonely life as an abandoned wife, and the rest of it came naturally. Lily didn’t let the priest stand up, much less eat anything. She made a good show of sobbing. He tried to help her up, but she just slid to the floor and lay there holding onto the hem of his cassock (she considered using it to wipe her nose). Finally, the priest could take no more of her howling and crying, so he called for the servants.

  Emma came in so quickly that she must have been listening at the door. She bustled around Lily, saying something along the lines of “Good Lord, look at how you’ve upset My Lady.” Martha and Mary added to the confusion in the room, and the priest hurriedly made his exit.

  As soon as his green cassock disappeared, Lilian stood up, dusted herself off and sent Mary out of the room to get some water for her to wash her face.

  “Martha, stop jumping around me. Go see to things in the kitchen. Emma, dear, send someone to the village to see how the blacksmith is doing. We have so much to do, and we aren’t making enough progress.”

  Emma looked her in the eye. “My Lady, you wanted to be finished by the autumn fair.”

  “I hope to do so.” To herself, she thought, That priest had better stay away. I’m not ready for him yet.

  ***

  “The fair, My Lady!”

  “The autumn fair!”

  Grain, animals, food of all kinds… In years past, Etor had been in charge of preparing for the autumn festival, but alas, he was no more. In fact, Lily learned that the peasants had found the bodies of Etor and his wife just after they left. Apparently, the wolves had gotten them. No money was recovered, of course.

  After consulting with Emma, Lily decided to go to the fair in person. It would be held in Altver, a ten-day ride from the castle. Boats would carry goods from all over to the river port, and merchants would drive wagons overland to get there, as well.

  The market at the fair was the place to buy anything and everything—from farm animals, grain and firewood to clothing, dishes, and jewelry. In addition to a traveling theater with minstrels and jesters, a wide variety of pickpockets and other thieves would also be in attendance.

  After much consideration, Lily called together the elders of all the villages. She had a task for them.

  ***

  They met in her office. It’s actually my husband’s office, but I’m assuming we have community property, right? Lily sat in the only chair. Five more stools were brought in for the elders. She had wanted to organize a roundtable, but Emma had tactfully vetoed the idea, saying she shouldn’t put herself on the same level as the peasants. It was no use arguing.

  Emma chose the food and drink, setting out five tankards of ale and a plate of bread and ham. Simple fare was good enough, and the men were glad to see it. Lily studied them discreetly. All five were enormous. Who said people used to be smaller? She was no down feather herself, but these men were huge. The largest two had broad shoulders and stomachs that rivaled Lilian’s. The other three were smaller overall, but she could see they were all muscle and bone, without an ounce of fat on them.

  Ian Leig, Art Virdas, Erk Grismo, Sherl Ferney, and Fred Darcy. She had to find common ground with these five men or die trying. She could have ordered them to do what she wanted, but she wanted them to feel that it was to their own advantage to help her. If they know they’ll benefit from my plan, they’ll forgive me my strange habits. She was a stranger in this world, and she needed the help of people who were born here. Her role would be to manage, provide financing and learn.

  The men were in no hurry to eat the food set out for them. No one spoke, so Lily jumped right in. “Good afternoon. I wanted to see you because our affairs are in a bad state.”

  Their five faces became thoughtful. They obviously expected nothing good of her. She smiled as kindly as she could, like a friendly snake. A new commander always starts with a good dressing-down, just to get his men hopping. Then he shows them how useless they are without him.

  “I understand that there are approximately twelve hundred people living in all of our villages. For convenience, let’s say fifteen hundred, including all the women, children and old people.”

  The elders said nothing. Lily continued. “You have around three hundred people in High Wold, Ian. Art has two hundred in Appleton. Erk has three hundred in Riverton. Sherl has a hundred and fifty in Fiur, and Fred has about three hundred in Runstaf. Of the women, children and elderly, how many will survive the winter?”

  The question cut like a knife. The men looked away from the Countess’ bright green eyes.

  “I see. How many died last winter?”

  “I’d say about a hundred people,” Ian rumbled. “This year, it will be no less than that. The little ones w
ill die of hunger. They go first when the women’s milk dries up. The men don’t know where to get feed for the animals. If they feed them grain, they won’t have anything to plant come spring. But if they slaughter the animals, they’ll lose everything they have.”

  Lily’s ears turned red, but she couldn’t turn back now. None of this was her fault, and she was going to put a stop to it.

  “So what have you elders been doing about it? You are supposed to protect your villages. Why didn’t you come to the Earl or to me? I see you’d rather keep your heads down and say nothing and watch your children die of starvation, is that it?” Lily’s voice rose to a scream. She remembered Perestroika like it was yesterday, watching her mother measure out the buckwheat from her father’s rations to make sure it would last until the next distribution. She always ate less to make sure that Aliya got a little extra.

  Countess Lilian Earton leaned over the table and glared at her guests. “You said nothing and waited. So, you’ll just have to wait a while longer. Now, listen to me. We’ll start with the soil. We can’t afford to lose the soil, can we?”

  It took Lilian ten minutes to explain the three-field rotation system. The elders began to glance around at each other. They realized that they weren’t about to be executed, but Lilian’s anger had gotten their attention. They could tell that she was restraining herself by force of will as she talked to them. Her restraint scared them. Anyone can yell, but it takes a true master to show restraint.

  Finally, Sherl spoke up. “We don’t have enough grain for that.”

  “True. We’ll buy grain at the fair. If we’re choosing between wheat and rye, I suggest wheat. We’ll divide the land into two parts: one for wheat and the other for oats and barley. Next year, we’ll clear more fields and plant them with wheat. This year’s wheat fields will grow oats and barley, and the fields where we had oats and barley this year will be left to rest. We’ll plant grass, and pasture the animals on them. The fields need to rotate like that every year. If we’re able to buy extra seed, we’ll find a place to plant it.”

  “We are low on oats,” Art sighed. “And we sold all our fruit to merchants for next to nothing just so that blood-sucker wouldn’t take our daughters. I have three of my own, and two sons.”