Meanwhile Daray and Allowena were inside looking to find some Lykian food to eat. The blandness of Moetian food was getting to them – they were used to herbs and spices. The Innkeeper was delighted to see them again – Harkin was the younger brother of Brictdred who managed his Inn in Lykiak – and his bedda was Oskilda – Sherlinda’s eldest daughter and sister of Conn’s youngest daughter Alwynne. Against the odds, Sherlinda had fallen pregnant to Conn – Alwynne was born a year ago. Luckily for her mother, she was not a twin.
It was when the three of them were sitting eating that Conn decided that it was time to tell Daray what he had planned for him.
CHAPTER 17
‘You want me to do what?’ Daray was flabbergasted. ‘Couldn’t you have told me this before today? And how am I supposed to convince ‘her’ to choose me?’
Allowena had burst into laughter and Daray looked and scowled at her.
‘And you are not helping...’
Conn waited until Daray regained his composure. It was unusual to see him so flustered, but then this was no normal situation.
Taking a deep breath, Daray looked up at him curiously, ‘So how long have you have been planning this?’
‘Since I met you – but not so much planning it – I was just making sure that there was a backup plan – in case the Witan couldn't decide.’
‘You really could have told me.’
‘It wouldn’t have worked if I had told you. No one would have let you or me come to Moetia.’
He nodded in comprehension. ‘That is true, but still...’
‘Daray, we have worked too hard to let some Moetian flop come up and become Aebeling of Lykia. How is it going to feel to have some outsider coming in and telling us what to do?’
When both Daray and Allowena looked at him strangely, Conn added, ‘Excluding me of course.’
He continued. ‘The fact that the Eaorls can't make a decision is ridiculous but ultimately understandable. I was going to bribe the Witan to make you heir but I realized that even I didn’t have enough money to do that – they are immovable. So we play our cards and take our chances like everyone else; we are dependent on the daughter.’
Daray complained. ‘But why would she want me? I'm the fifth son of an Eaorl, and a common soldier.’
‘You undersell yourself, Daray, you are a descendant of the last Aebeling, the grandson of three Eaorls and the best trained wiga in Lykia – possibly Meshech.’
‘Excluding you…’
Conn smiled. ‘Excluding me. You know more about Lykia than any man alive, and your fyrd will follow you into certain death without hesitation. You are perfect for the job.’
Allowena came over and hugged him, ‘Well, I think you will be great – you are the nicest boy in all of Lykia – every girl I know wants to be your bedda.’
Conn agreed. ‘Which, of course, is the reason why I advised against you taking bedda last spring…’
‘Yes, it is all a bit clearer now.’
Conn returned to the task; ‘Anyway, the Healdend’s daughter has five suitors, excluding you, and each has a strong support base here in Moetia. As far as I can tell, however, there are only two real candidates. It also seems that not only does she have the greatest dowry ever given to a girl in Meshech, she is considered to be very pretty.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Allowena asked.
‘I've had people studying the situation for some time. Good information is invaluable; you must never go into battle without a plan for victory, and a plan for defeat.’
‘This isn't a battle.’ Daray started to say.
‘That is your first mistake, Daray, and hopefully your only one. This is definitely a battle – and as I said, one that we are not expected to win. We do have some advantages, however.’
‘And they are?’
‘I’m hoping that they are your good looks and charming personality.’ He paused. ‘You do have a charming personality, don’t you?’
He sent them to get ready; new outfits were waiting for them in their rooms – specially prepared to make a memorable first impression. By the time they had reassembled downstairs, Finghin was waiting, and if his reaction was anything to go by, Conn had succeeded. He was stunned into silence.
It was already well accepted that the best clothing was made in Lykia – in just two years, products produced from the fabrics manufactured in Hama dominated the high end market. Finghin himself wore a tunic made in Hama; he had purchased it from the new Emporium opened near the dock by one of Allowena’s cousin, who had only recently moved to Moetiak. However, nothing sold there matched the quality of what was paraded in front of him today.
Conn and Daray both wore silk Sherwani styled jackets, heavily embroided around the lapel and collar, long-sleeved, buttoned in front and close fitting; falling down to mid-calf. They were embroided with rich purples, reds and blue threads. Daray wore black while Conn wore saffron brown, over a steel grey wool blend trousers. Allowena modelled a skin tight and subtly embroided choli and lehenga outfit made up of pure white silk, with a spectacularly colored silk sari.
It was of the local fashion but not the same materials, colors, or cut – silk was yet to be found in large quantities in Meshech as most of the silk production from Hama had been used for Conn’s personal or military purposes. There was going to be increased availability – from tomorrow – exclusively at the Emporium.
Allowena was nothing less than spectacular in her outfit, and although Conn still saw her as a child, dressed as she was, there was no argument that she was definitely all grown up. Daray commented to Conn that the bigger battle may be keeping boys away from her.
Conn agreed. ‘It will certainly be a challenge. I hope we are up for it.’
When Finghin regained his speech, all he could say was “extraordinary”. He was further astonished when he followed them outside to find two Hansom Cabs waiting for them, the first ever to be seen in Moetiak, having been imported and assembled in secret just for this day.
Finghin had expected to walk and was delighted to find himself ushered into a seat; ‘I have heard about these – a merchant friend of mine described something similar that he saw when he visited your domain of Atrak. He was very impressed.’
With its extensive network of newly cobbled roads, Atrak was the first Lykiak cotlif able to have the Cabs in great number, though others were quickly following. The Eaorl of Sabatah was spending a great deal of money to keep pace with Atrak. In dry weather in Moetiak, the Cabs would have no difficulty getting around, but that would not be the case after any rain. All oxen drawn carts in Moetiak had two large wooden wheels and were slow and cut deep trenches into the soil. The Hansom cab had two wheels and carefully designed leather and steel springs so were not so suited to operating in mud.
Finghin was like a small child on a circus ride; excited and scared at the same time, and when it stopped at the outside of the keep gates, it took five minutes for the smile to wear off his face. He was the first Silekian in Moetiak – before the Healdend – to ride in a Cab, and he wanted to ensure that everyone knew.
Leaving the cabs behind, Finghin led them through the gates and into the bailey; and although dusty, it was paved well enough for them to arrive at the large stone steps outside the stone hall without getting their clothes dirty. The bailey contained a multitude of newer, rambling and disjointed, buildings that crowded and defaced what would surely have been a grand enclosure.
They climbed the steps up to the hall, and followed Finghin inside. The doors were at least ten foot high, and led to the largest room that Conn had seen so far. The ceiling was at least fifty feet above them; giant beams and purlins were held up by huge six foot wide posts that sat inside an eight foot high stone outer wall that supported the huge rafters. As he looked the roof he could see a mixture of large timber shingles and thatch.
‘Does the roof leak?’ Conn asked Finghin, who stood at his shoulder.
‘Only when it rains – no one knows how to fix it
properly.’
‘I do.’
Finghin sighed. ‘Why am I not surprised?’
A large crowd was already gathered in the room. When Finghin had requested the audience, news passed quickly that a decision by the Lykian witan was to be formally made to the Healdend – and although it was no secret that there was no designated heir, they all wanted to be there for the momentous occasion – someone in Moetiak was going to be the next Aebeling of Lykia.
Five yards into the room, the noise fizzled to a stop. Conn, tall and blonde in his saffron jacket would have been surprise enough, or even Daray – but Conn could tell that all eyes were on Allowena in her stunning outfit of white silk with subtle cleavage. The seventeen year old attracted every eye in the place – the women were green with envy, while the males were consumed with desire.
The women were dressed in a similar style to Allowena but in linens and wool; and they made up for the lack of bold colors with extravagant décolletage, while the men wore a range of linen or wool tunics over woolen pants – but again in baggy cuts.
There was another visitor in the room, an unseen one. As soon as Conn arrived in the cotlif earlier that day, he had immediately felt the presence of Badb in his head – and he had shut her out – much to her annoyance. But this visitor wasn’t Badb – it was someone completely different – and here in the keep – but the “signal” was weak. Conn could tell that it didn’t know that Conn could feel it; it had no expectation of anyone feeling it. It was also not the Gyden that he’d encountered with the Ancuman, or with Elddis. It was yet another voice in his head, yet another Gyden he presumed.
Conn felt the sense of curiosity that lingered after the voice passed over his mind; though it didn’t attempt to interact with him.
Aerlene was the first to greet them. She was dressed well and despite being mature, she was still an extremely beautiful woman. She had probably been shopping that very day from the Emporium as she wore all Lykian clothes; she was dressed in a thin choli, ample bosom on display, with lehenga and sari. The three bowed to her as she greeted them.
‘Thane, somehow I knew you would be making a grand entrance, and I was not disappointed. You should however have given me some of your clothes – I bought the best that I could find but …. I too am green with envy’. She laughed. ‘Come let me introduce you to my brother.’
At the end of the great hall on a Dias sat a middle aged, and rather rotund Healdend; he sat with his five bedda. To his right was a young girl, tallish, elegant and beautiful. This must be the daughter. Conn knew that he only had two children – the daughter and her elder much brother, Bran, the Aebeling. Conn heard Daray draw in breath as he got closer. She certainly was a delight to the eyes.
Aerlene made the introductions to Driscol, as Conn, Daray and Allowena bowed respectfully, and sat on chairs that were brought for them. They sat facing the Healdend.
Driscol was quick in summing up the situation, ‘Conn, Thane of Atrak, and several other places, and today special envoy to the Witan of Lykia, welcome. Your status of Envoy surprises me in that you are not even Lykian. My cousins, the Eaorls, must be getting malleable in their old age. In fact, no one has been able to explain me where you are from as no one knows where Taransay is. I understand that you are a fine soldier and everywhere I look I see the name Hama or Atrak next to some kind of goods being sold in all these new stores opening up on the docklands. You are a Thane but you have ships’, he waved his hands about ‘carting merchandise everywhere. It is rumored that you are the richest man in all Meshech, and yet you ride for six weeks to Moetiak. Then you turn up in some kind of cart specially made to carry people,’ he gave a death stare to Finghin, ‘wearing clothes never seen before. And if that is not the worst of it; you have now given my beloved sister, a perpetual thorn in my side, a ridiculous amount of money to provide stables for your fyrd – which I am reliably told are the finest wiga that anyone has ever seen. Do you realize that all this has made for a very disconcerting day?’
‘It would seem that you are well informed, Healdend. I assure you that my intentions are not malicious.’
Driscol sighed. ‘That remains to be seen, Thane, that remains to be seen, but already I have my doubts. But to business, pray tell me the decision of the Witan of Lykia. Have they nominated a successor for the vacant position of Aebeling of Lykia?’
The room went quiet, as Conn addressed the Healdend. ‘Healdend, I have been instructed by the Witan of Lykia that they have been unable to nominate a successor, so acknowledges the right of the Healdend of Moetia to determine the next Aebeling of Lykia, as per the ancient agreement drawn up on the establishment of Lykia, and they have instructed me to escort the new Aebeling back to Lykia.’ He handed over an official document that had been sealed by the Witan. He bowed again, and sat down.
‘So,’ the Healdend paused and surveyed his court, ‘the Aebeling will finally return to Moetia’.
The room was about to burst into clapping when Conn stood and spoke again. ‘Well not necessarily, Healdend; there will be a nomination from Lykia.’
The court went suddenly silent; and the Healdend looked to Conn. ‘Just a moment ago you suggested that I was unwarranted to be suspicious, Thane. So who is going to nominate themselves against the wishes of the Witan?’
‘It is my understanding that anyone can nominate; even without the approval of the Witan. They just need to be approved by you.’ Conn had been reading the agreement in fine detail.
The Healdend looked to his advisors who nodded their heads in agreement. Annoyed, he looked back at Conn. ‘And who is it that wishes to nominate himself as suitor? Is it you, Thane?’
Conn looked to Daray and the boy stood, and stepped forward confidently.
‘Healdend, it is I that wishes to nominate myself as a suitor.’ He bowed to the Healdend and to his daughter; and her surprise was obvious, as she he had barely looked his way all evening. All eyes had been on Conn or Allowena.
‘And who are you?’ the Healdend asked, somewhat exasperatedly.
Daray bowed. ‘My name is Daray il Erbil, younger brother of Eanfrid, Eaorl of Erbil. I am currently Kaptain of the Lykian Fyrd.’
The Healdend smiled curiously. ‘What is a Kaptain?’
Conn stood again and explained how the Lykian Fyrd had been reorganized.’
‘I presume this is your doing Thane?’
Conn nodded and the Healdend took a deep sigh. ‘This is going to be a long day. Proceed.’
Daray collected a parcel from the bench behind his chair and returned to face the Healdend. The parcel was a long thin object wrapped in a silk scarf. He carried the object to a servant, who took it to the Healdend.
‘This is a gift to show my genuine and honorable intent.’
The Healdend carefully unwrapped the parcel; the disposal of the scarf caused a tug of war between the two hands that grabbed it first; his daughter and the youngest of one of his bedda. The bedda won. The Healdend now had in his hand a finely crafted Katana in a scabbard; the handle of which was inlaid with gemstones. He slowly withdrew the sword from the scabbard; the highly polished blade glittering in the fire and candle light.
He shook his head in awe as he balanced the sword in his hand.
‘I do not know if I have ever seen a finer blade. It pains me to think that an object of such beauty is so very lethal. ‘
Returning the sword to his scabbard, the Healdend returned to his seat, placing the sword on his lap.
‘Who is the master craeftiga that created this blade? I will have his name to honor the sword.’
Conn stepped forward again. ‘That would be me, Healdend.’
Driscol laughed, ‘Surely you jest, Thane. Are you already not thane, wiga and merchant? Are you also craeftiga?’
Conn explained, ‘I have yet to find a blade-smith in Meshech sufficiently capable of making a sword of this quality – yet – so I made this one myself.’
The Healdend went silent and nodded. ‘That being the case, Th
ane, then you are indeed a master craeftiga.’ He looked back again at Daray, ‘Young man, before I give my blessing for you to court my daughter, I think you need to tell us more about your family. I remember meeting your father many years ago, but...’
Daray recited his genealogy, the names of the three Eaorls in Lykia that were his grandparents, his connection to the Aebeling of Lykiak, and surprising Conn, the name of his great grandfather who was an Eaorl in Moetia. Daray went on to describe his training and education with Conn over the last three years, including his winter with the Twacuman. The Healdend interrupted.
‘You would have me believe that you have spent an entire winter in Halani? That is not possible; they have not allowed visitors for over three hundred years.’ And as he laughed the court laughed as well, some in ridicule and others following the lead of the Healdend.
Daray didn’t flinch. He placed his hands around his neck and took off the medallion that he had been given by Brina. He took it to one of the servants to be passed to the Healdend. The servant did as directed, and as Driscol picked it up, his smile disappeared, and the laughter in the room also stopped.
He placed the necklace back on the tray and directed it to be returned to Daray. The court was shocked at his next words.
‘I apologize for not believing you, Daray, but you are indeed a friend to the Twacuman. I have a medallion much the same – given to my great-great-grandfather.’
The Healdend never apologized.
‘May I ask how it is that you came to be invited to winter with the Twacuman?’
Conn stepped forward yet again. ‘That would be me again, Healdend. I asked the Aebeling Brina and she agreed. I felt that there was much he could learn from the Twacuman.’
Driscol shook his head in frustration; and asked, almost with reluctance. ‘I’m suddenly afraid to ask – but I presume that you have a medallion as well, Thane?’
‘I do,’ Conn released the medallion from his neck, handed it to a servant.
The Aebeling Page 28
