The Price of Happiness: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 5)

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The Price of Happiness: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 5) Page 40

by Lina J. Potter


  She remembered how they started making paper and introduced book printing, how they labored over letters and ink, not to mention their pain with opening schools and hospitals. The lion share of her profits went there. The aldon supported her projects. Pastor Vopler was a grateful man. He saw that her ideas didn’t bring evil. He had become an aldon seven years earlier, after the death of Aldon Roman. He lectured the priests about their mission as Aldonai’s servants to help ordinary people. He actively supported the opening of schools and hospitals. He wished to abolish all nunneries and send the women to help in schools and hospitals for the poor. The women could gain their freedom and live as they pleased after ten years of paid social work. There were, of course, exceptions to that rule. Some women were not fit to function for social benefit. Nevertheless, the idea found support among the clergy.

  The aldon and his son were also invited to the birthday celebration. Mark had grown into a real man. He often helped August junior at the shipyards. The Virmans were also among the guests. Lily didn’t want to guess what they would give her. Leif and Ingrid, who not only had eight children but also fifteen grandchildren, decided not to go back to Virma. Leif changed his occupation, from captain to testing shipbuilder. Their work paid benefits, and soon they built a real caravel. The most desperate Virman daredevils (including Erik, who had not lost his agility with age) set sail to search for new lands.

  That was eight years ago. Back then, something terrible had happened. America was discovered—that is, the continent Alilen, as the locals called it. Dark-skinned, black-haired, they looked very similar to the Indians and had nearly repeated their fate.

  They were rich and did not believe in Aldonai.

  ***

  It happened eight years prior.

  “Lilian, this is a new land! Immense wealth!” Richard, who looked a little aged, was still handsome at the age of forty. He paced the room with measured steps. The countess stood by the fireplace. Her hands fiddled with the end of a fan.

  Over the years, they had found the time to talk and now maintained a friendly relationship. Richard knew that Lilian would never intervene in an affair that wasn’t related to her production. Lilian knew that Richard would never tell her husband about her role in uncovering the Ivelens. Thus, the matter was settled. Step by step, they tried to find a common language. Although Richard never considered Lilian his friend, he would sometimes ask advice not only from Jess but also from his wife.

  Back then, the king had called a meeting. Lilian and Jess were the only ones invited.

  “Your Majesty, don’t do it. It is wrong! How do you not understand? Your ideas are close to genocide. We cannot exterminate the whole population of people. Although they don’t believe in Aldonai, they are still human beings! The result of your decision will make the murder of a piglet equal to the murder of a human baby. There would be fire and destruction. Stop it before it’s too late!”

  Time had been merciful to Lilian Earton. Her white hair was almost invisible between the blonde locks, her face was smooth, and her teeth were still white. One would never tell that the woman had given birth to four children. Jerisson looked at his wife with awe and contemplated her words.

  Richard was also happy with his wife. His second wife Diana was charming, and Richard strongly suspected that it was Lilian Earton who had inspired her to become so devoted and independent.

  “We cannot kill them. Let’s join their lands to Ativerna and begin teaching them.”

  “They don’t need our education! We will only make their lives worse. How do you not understand?”

  “Explain,” offered Jerisson. Lily sighed and started explaining. She tried to choose her words carefully. The men listened and exchanged meaningful glances. Her story painted a gloomy picture in their minds. If one state got used to living at the expense of the other, the inevitable result would be their fall. One of them would meet its end from the lack and the other one from the excess. Neither Jess nor Richard wanted to start a war. After all, the lands were already discovered.

  “Your Majesty, Aldon Roman wishes to see you.”

  “Let him come in.”

  Aldon Roman was a very old man. The times were hectic. Pastor Vopler accompanied the elderly aldon. Over the years, Vopler had become more earnest, his eyes were endowed with sadness and clarity, and his face was cut through by many little wrinkles. Every person who saw him sensed his radiant inner peacefulness. He didn’t desire more than he already had. He was the aldon’s right hand and would become the next aldon. With the support of two kings, he would surely rise up the ranks. The days when he was counting copper coins and thinking about how to feed his son were long gone. His son Mark made the priest proud. He spent all day at the shipyards, helping the old shipbuilder and learning the old secrets of his craft. August’s health had significantly deteriorated since his beloved wife Alicia, the “loving viperess,” had passed away. Finally, he could only move around in a wheelchair. There were things over which men had no power.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Speak freely, Roman. There are no false witnesses here.” Richard’s court resembled the “close circle” of Ivan the Terrible.

  “Richard, this is a great discovery. Erik sent me a message. We have to decide what to do with those savage men. My people are ready to sail there and spread the light of Aldonai.”

  “No!”

  Lilian Earton’s scream was extremely desperate. The woman grabbed onto her throat. She had visions of the Indians driven onto reservations. Cut down forests, a wasteland soaked with the blood of its people. The imperative “no belief, no soul, no human” was the root of Nazism and fascism.

  The men turned to face her. They didn’t care about her emotional response. They wanted to see what she had to say. It was she who had said that there was land beyond the oceans. She had given the mariners maps and compasses.

  “You have to understand,” the woman’s voice grew calmer. “If we begin to impose our own religion there, they will fight against it. We need to make them come to us. They will welcome us and implore us themselves. We don’t want to be taken for aggressors. We want to be perceived as the bearers of light.”

  The aldon raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Any child complains of bitter medicine.”

  “We aren’t talking about a silly child here. We are talking about people. You won’t be able to convince a child to do something by taking away his toy. You would show him a brighter, more interesting one, and he would happily take it from your hands. One cannot impose good by vile means.”

  “What do you suggest instead?”

  “I read Erik’s letter. He will be home soon, in Laveri. He is coming with his wife, who is a princess of that foreign land. Her name is Tial. Why don’t we show her all the beauty of our country? We can send the pastors and priests with her, on her way back. We need to choose the priests carefully and send the ones who will be clever and careful, who will manage to tell about our faith in an attractive way. This will become our first step. Later, we will be able to teach them other things—glassmaking, porcelain, silk, horseback riding. We can give them as much as we want to take from them. It will be better to become their allies, to remain their friends. Gentlemen! Please hear me out,” Lily started nervously pacing the room. “We can take that land by force, but this prey is too big for Ativerna, even in coalition with Wellster. If we decide to create a bigger alliance, it would inevitably lead to more dispute. We already have to deal with Avesterra and Elvana. You know I am right.”

  The men considered her words. All she said made sense. There were currently seven states on the continent. Ativerna, Wellster, Ivernea and the Khanganat formed a coalition. That left Elvana, Avesterra, and Darcom. The relationship between Wellster and Ivernea was somehow strained. They still hadn’t forgiven them the secret marriage of Lydia, that time she had escaped with one of the courtiers.

  Lydia though was immensely happy. She shared her happiness with Lilian in her letters and
during their meetings. She had given birth to six children and was content with her life. The relationship between Ativerna and Ivernea was also not very smooth. Lydia’s secret marriage hurt her brothers’ pride. Had Richard married their sister, it wouldn't have happened.

  Since the death of Edward and Gardwig, the relationship between Wellster and Ativerna had worsened. Although there were no apparent disputes, some topics were extremely hot.

  “Any contract can be sealed with a marriage,” innocently suggested Earl Earton. Lilian gratefully touched her husband's hand. At least someone supported her.

  The aldon pondered, but Vopler said that they shouldn't be too extreme. They needed to remain gentle. Richard waved his hand in agreement. They would try the plan with the marriage. Lily gasped in relief, grabbing her husband’s hand. She was grateful for having his support. Lily was sure that the subject was not closed yet, but she hoped that her words would make them settle for a softer approach, which wouldn't do harm to either Ativerna or Alilen. Considering the delicate political situation, the king was inclined to prevent any possible feud. Although it was a little too presumptuous, Lily still wondered whether she had been sent to that world to help its people choose the right way on their diverging path. One of the roads led to bloodshed and misery. Had they turned the wrong way, fortune’s well would have turned into a well of misery. So easy to destroy, so hard to get back.

  ***

  “Darling, let’s go ride!”

  It was Jerisson. He looked stunning for his age. He was almost sixty but had remained as charming as before, only his hair had turned gray. His blue eyes shone, and his body hadn’t lost its strength or sensibility, his smile still retained its shine.

  Lily stood up from the desk and gave her husband an affectionate kiss. Fifty years was not old.

  “I have a lot of things to do. Guest list, bookings…”

  “Leave it to the secretaries.”

  “I have, and now I have to double-check their work.”

  “You can finish later.”

  “Jess.”

  “It is beautiful outside. The sun is shining bright, and the breeze is just wonderful.”

  Lily sighed. Maybe it was a good idea to leave everything and go for a ride with her husband. It wouldn’t hurt to disappear for a few hours.

  “Leif invited us for a gathering. They’re having everyone to their house tonight.”

  That was the last straw. Lily put down the paper.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  Sometimes, she prioritized her work far too much. She decided to seize the moment and enjoy the sun, the wind, and the company of her dear husband. She considered herself lucky. Jess was a loving husband. She loved her trade, which would live on even after she died. She had wonderful children and incredible grandchildren. She and Jerisson were happy. As for her descendants, it didn’t matter what they thought of her. She wanted happiness, and she got it. It was a peculiar kind of happiness, different from everyone else’s, but it was hers. She was unique, a traveler through time and space. One day, she would finish writing her story and tell her descendants the whole truth. One day, but not today. She was done with overthinking. She and her husband were going on a voyage.

  Lily kissed her husband on the cheek and went to get dressed. Thanks to the Mariella Fashion House, she could do it with no effort and without any help from the maids. She would take Lidarh.

  Lily followed her husband up the hill and glanced down at the fires beneath and the sunset above. She smiled at the evening sky.

  I love you, my dear world! Madly, deeply, forever!

  A light breeze, like a blessing from above, ruffled her hair.

  I also love you, my dear child. Be happy.

  Post-epilogue.

  Two hundred years later.

  Ativerna, Laveri. The Grand Royal Museum. Exhibition of Wax Statues.

  A young female teacher leads her serious and extremely curious students to the central museum. They obediently line up in two rows. Before entering the museum, the teacher looks at her pupils.

  “Tom, take off the cap! Lily, rearrange your braid! Your bow is falling off. Does everyone remember how to behave?”

  The children answer with haphazard nodding.

  “Do not touch anything with your hands, do not wander around the museum, do not yell, listen to the guide. Let’s go.”

  A girl with messy golden hair quickly fixes her braid. Done! My hair is always getting in the way.

  The young faces shine with anticipation of the new and the unknown. Their class came first in the competition, and this little voyage to the museum is their reward. The exhibition presents the figures of the Prenaissance epoch. The guide lovingly looks at her young listeners.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” answer the higgledy-piggledy voices. The children aren’t so young anymore, around seven years of age and already very independent. Each one of them is unique in their own way.

  “Today we have an exhibition of the most prominent characters of the Prenaissance epoch. Does anyone know when it started?”

  The guide tries to get the kids interested. She is a young student, and this is her graduation practice. Her main aim is to spark the children’s curiosity. What could be more important than the history of one’s native country? The young girl realizes the responsibility of her task and is visibly worried.

  “Two hundred years ago,” the children respond.

  “Correct! At that time, His Majesty Edward the Eighth ruled in Ativerna. His reign marked the beginning of what we now call ‘development.’ Back in those days, schools did not exist. Instead, there were guilds. The master of the guild employed many apprentices, who were children like you. Those children were forced to work for them in return for shelter and food. They were often denied even those basic needs, got sick, and died of hunger.”

  The baby faces are getting sad.

  “In order to become a member of the guild, one was required to pay a fee and pass the exam. But the masters didn’t want to have too much competition, and it often happened that a child could remain an apprentice for the rest of his life. There were cases when the masters forcibly enslaved their apprentices, lent them money, and charged high interest. In a word, it was very difficult to break free from the vicious cycle. There were no hospitals either. Medicine was very, very undeveloped.”

  One of the boys raises his hand.

  “In the lesson, we read the play called “Sick deceiver.” The doctors in the play treated their patients with either laxatives, sleeping pills, or bloodletting. Is that true?”

  The girl smiles and her pupils’ eyes light up in response.

  “Not exactly. There were also herbalists, but knowledge of medicine was scarce. They considered the herbalists to be shildas and daughters of Maldonaya. The medicus’ guild didn’t tolerate competition.”

  The children comprehensively nod. All of them study in a special school for future doctors. From the age of six, they are taught to dress wounds, care for the sick, help doctors, and perform medicine. All of them know that there is no other such honorable profession like the profession of a doctor. Every one of them wants to become a good doctor.

  “Edward the Eighth was the first king to fight against this system. Of course, many of his servants did not like that. They conspired against him; they wanted to make him abdicate.”

  The children look at the figure of an elderly man with a serious face. The man is dressed in luxurious clothes. A simple Ativernian crown gleams on his head. The artist managed to convey the expression of this face. It is tired and calm, and the king’s eyes express sadness.

  “It was under his command that the new doctors’ guild was organized. The most interesting fact is that a foreigner was appointed its head. It was the great scholar from the Khanganat, Tahir Djiaman din Dashar. He was forced to flee from his native country and found refuge in Ativerna, where they appreciated him for his knowledge. His Majesty affectionately received the scholar at
court, which was not little in those days. Tahir Djiaman din Dashar cured the king of several diseases. He wrote works on anatomy and pathology. Din Dashar was the first person who bequeathed his body to his disciples for experiments. He believed that it was impossible to identify an illness without knowing what was inside the person. It later became a tradition in the guild of doctors to dedicate their bodies to science. Can you tell me the name of the second head of the guild?”

  “Baron James Donter,” answer the children.

  “Correct. Come, I will show you their wax figures.”

  The children obediently follow the guide. The young girl continues telling them on the go.

  “Tahir was a celebrity in those days. It is widely known that His Majesty Gardwig the Twelfth, the ruler of Wellster, corresponded with the wise doctor and followed all his advice and recommendations.”

  “He’s a doctor!” says one of the children. “It is silly to not follow his advice.”

  “Back then, many doctors could prescribe bloodletting or aconite!” replies a second child.

  The guide and the teacher exchange meaningful glances. It was the teacher who asked the young guide to organize the tour around medicine. These children don’t care about palace intrigues. They are eager to know about the origins of their profession. In a few years, they would start learning politics and the art of diplomacy. They would learn about the plots and conspiracies that grew like mushrooms during the reign of Edward. They would be told about the secret agreement between Edward and Gardwig, according to which the kingdoms strengthened the friendly union by marriage at least once in two generations, strictly following genetic timeframes to avoid the passing of hereditary diseases.

  The wax figure of Tahir Djiaman Din Dashar looks quite alive. He is dressed in the traditional white clothes of the Khangans, with a clean-shaven chin and a smile on his lips. He is seated at the table holding a pen and is about to write down some important thoughts.

 

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