On the way back, Mara did not ask for a rematch, and we rode at leisure, talking all the way to the hunting house.
“How did you get the land?” Mara imitated the bald man accurately, after we left the horses in the barn. “Some services to Sir Mehadin, in the past,” she imitated me this time, but I could not say how well; you know all the voices in the world bar yours, but she remembered my words well. “You made my day, Codrin,” I heard the bald man’s voice again through her mouth, and we entered the house still laughing.
“It looks like you had a good day,” Calin interrupted us, well-disposed too. “You should share the joke with me, if I wasn’t its target.”
“It will not be easy,” Mara said, trying to keep her laughter in check. “But we are good people, and making you feel like the butt of a joke would sadden us greatly. The Vistier was curious why Mehadin gifted Codrin with the house and land.”
“And the answer was...?” Calin asked, blandly, his good mood fading.
“For some services to Sir Mehadin, in the past,” Mara imitated a male voice that again, I assumed was mine, and Calin struggled to keep his composure, with all his hidden worries.
“Not a bad answer,” he said, thoughtfully, a trace of a smile on his lips.
“I think that I have met the bald man in the past,” Mara added. “I am not really sure.” There was the sudden implication that he could be aware of her real identity – she had used Calin’s family name, not Mehadin. “He did not know that Mehadin is dead, and we did not enlighten him.”
“Four years ago, we received an embassy from Histria, led by him, when he still had most of his hair. The man you met is Dobre, the governor of Orhei, not just the Vistier. It’s a small city and region, in the mountains, not very rich,” he shrugged, “and there are not many functionaries. Don’t be fooled by him, he is a cunning man despite his placid appearance. Orhei is a strategic location at the intersection of two main commercial routes. No Seigneur would place a weak man in such a position. I am sure he recognized you, you still look the same,” Calin smiled at Mara.
“Tomorrow I will have to confront him about my name,” Mara shrugged. “We did not have enough money to pay the fee,” she answered the mute question in Calin’s eyes. “Telling him about Mehadin and my … husband’s fate should smooth things. Why did you not tell me?” she asked Calin.
“Let Dobre take the first step,” Calin said lightly, probably because of my presence; it seemed that he had deliberately chosen not to inform Mara about the governor. “I sent Petre with a letter to Histria, to my contacts there. It should arrive in two days.”
“Your letter should arrive before someone else informs Histrian,” I said, guessing at his real intentions.
“Information is an important tool,” Calin again avoided a straight answer. “Don’t you think?”
“So is trust,” I shrugged.
“Would you mind if we have this talk tomorrow?” Calin looked at us as if my status had the same level as his daughter’s. “Not necessarily because of your new encounter with Dobre. Now, let’s have dinner.”
After dinner, the children went to sleep, Vlad left too, and we indulged in more gossip, and with all my hunger for political knowledge, I could not complain – the evening was pleasant, reminding me of the good old times in Jara’s house. After a while, Calin complained that he was tired and left us alone.
“Tell me about your girl,” Mara surprised me; we were sitting beside each other on the sofa.
“What makes you think there is a girl in my life?” I asked, trying to hide my irritation; my girl and the many issues I had with her was not for Mara to comment on. As I spoke, I turned toward her, and our shoulders touched, so I could move no further.
She did not answer, but gently took my face between her fingers, turning my head until we were face to face; confused, I asked myself what was in her mind and how I should react to such familiarity, which was not unpleasant. “You don’t look so bad, so you must have a girl,” she smiled, and I chose to do nothing, not necessarily because of some sudden logical considerations in my mind. “With emerald green eyes. Why is it so difficult to talk about her?”
“It’s complicated,” I shrugged.
“I see,” she said, moving her fingers over my face, much like Jara used to in the past, and I decided to consider that resemblance the reason for my lack of reaction. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” I shrugged again, somehow subdued by her subtle fingers still moving over my face. “Almost nineteen.”
“So young,” she whispered, and I thought I could hear regret in her words. “Don’t be annoyed, we are partners in the great game, are we not?” She smiled, moving her fingers away from my skin, though their ghostly presence lingered for a while. “I just want us to get to know each other better. Let’s talk about me, then. It may be easier for you after that. I was as young as you are when I married Mehadin, and it was not quite yesterday. What looked like a good step at the time turned into a nightmare. He was the first born of the secondary Mehadin family, and a Knight. What better option could I have? My father was a fugitive and had lost all his lands in Severin. My nightmare started on the wedding night, with the first beating. I learned later what many others knew, but we had failed to learn: his body could not be physically ready for a woman without beating her first. A twisted, sad man; I am sure that deep in his mind he despised himself. The second time I lost my unborn child, I had to stay in bed for two months. Yet, I considered myself lucky that two children had been born healthy, as I never became pregnant again.” She sighed, and I tried to say something to soothe her, but nothing came to my mind, so I just touched her hand. “That’s when Seigneur Mehadin intervened, not out of suddenly acquired kindness, but because he was afraid of losing his valuable second Secretary. In time, you learn that a tool is used, and discarded when it’s no longer useful; so you must pretend to be a tool and remain useful. I was useful, therefore my husband was kindly advised to be more ... gentle with me – meaning violence was acceptable if it didn’t leave me bed-ridden – and use some common women for his more extreme pleasures, and that is what he did, occasionally kidnapping innocent young girls for a few nights. They were paid well at the end, but...” She could not finish, and I took her hand in mine.
“Mara, this is hurting you. There is no need...”
“It’s helping me,” she said, her voice suddenly edgy, and I just nodded. “After a while, the kidnapped women started to die, and people started to whisper; some of them were relatives of our merchants and soldiers. Mehadin sequestered him for one year in one of his castles, and released him when the war started. The best period of my adult life until now; as you have noticed, I have never pronounced his name, and I will never do. Never. Mehadin’s fall left us insecure and vulnerable, but I feel alive again. That is no small thing, and I have to thank you for it. So, that was my story, but it’s too late to hear yours today.” Mara ended the talk abruptly, for no evident reason, or at least not obvious to me. She took her hand from mine, stood up, and we left the room in silence.
Before I fell asleep, I thought again about Saliné, maybe because of that annoying question about ‘my girl’; or maybe because she never really left my mind, even though I sometimes pretended to myself. The scene with Bucur’s hand around her shoulders came back to me – it was not as if I asked for it, the vivid images just came, silent and frustrating, as usual. ‘Some things are not what they seem. What happened in that hall was a self-preservation façade Saliné thought being necessary for both of you, nothing else.’ I remembered Jara’s words. Was she right? Did she tell the truth? Unsure what question should I ask myself, I tried to imagine why Jara might lie to me, and found no adequate reason – by that time, I had already agreed to lead their army, even with Big Mouth trailing me, and there was no more need to appease me. Irritated, and unable to sleep, I left my bed and went to the window. A full moon, the size of a chariot wheel, shined over the land with a warmth that I could n
ot feel. Like that evening... The evening of our first walk hand in hand. Saliné was just a bystander. I went back to her walk with Bucur, the mind’s predilection for choosing bad memories over good, and it came to me that Saliné was a dead woman walking, a bystander in her own life – there was no reaction on her body or face from being so close to Bucur. I could not see her reactions when she walked with me, but I remembered her promenades with Jara: their body language revealed many feelings – Saliné was thriving.
Why did I not observe it that day? Or is just my imagination?
The next day, Mara was better prepared for registering the land’s sale, and in silence, she placed the required twenty-five galbeni on Dobre’s table. Her movements were deliberately slow – to offer him a longer view of the coins, as she told me in the morning, but with some amusement I realized that the perfect display of her body might influence him even more; there was certain elegance to her.
“Lady Mara, do you or your husband want to buy more land in Orhei?” he asked, introducing a new game. As with the Seigniorial cities, Orhei was also the name of the region.
“My husband is dead, Sir Dobre,” Mara said, in a stern voice, trying to put him on the wrong foot.
“I apologize for my ignorant rudeness and wish all the best to you and your two children,” Dobre answered, unimpressed, seeming to ignore the fact she had named him while making it known, by speaking about her children, that he was well informed. “From your presence here, should I understand the war is not going well in Mehadia? There were some setbacks, as I remember.”
“The war ended two weeks ago.” Mara had chosen to feed him the news in small chunks.
“Two weeks ago,” Dobre repeated thoughtfully. “Then I apologize again, but as governor, I must ask if you want to settle here.”
“Yes,” Mara answered, curtly.
“May I ask why?”
“Sir Mehadin and his sons died in battle and S’Severin is now the master of Mehadia.”
“Interesting news,” Dobre massaged his chin. “In the way that it was… both important and unknown to me until this moment,” he added. “Then I understand your need to use your father’s name,” he pushed forward the papers validating the sale to be signed – there were three copies, one for each of us.
“Thank you for your consideration,” Mara answered, signing the papers before handing them to me. “May I ask you to keep my real identity quiet? Of course, I understand that you have to warn Sir Histrian about Mehadins settling in his land.”
In silence, Dobre nodded to her. “And you, young man,” he asked, turning to me. “Do you plan to sell more land, and the house too?”
“I apologize for being unable to enrich Sir Histrian even more, but I plan to keep them. Some repairs are needed after years of neglect, but it’s a fine house.” I thought that his real question was if Mara would stay in my house too, but he decided not to press further for the moment, and we left the office. He had probably guessed that it was a fictitious sale.
“A walk in the city?” Mara asked as we left the building, taking my arm, signaling that her question was rhetorical, the man had to be polite and accept, and I was interested to check the walls and the inns – my travels had never taken me to Orhei, though I often passed by. In a half-turn, we had seen everything, and we returned home.
After dinner, the three of us talked, over a bottle of wine, and everything that happened in Dobre’s office was dissected; yet I was sure that Calin still kept some things hidden from me.
“Knowing what I know now, I would have liked to present a fictitious name on those papers.” I made Calin aware that he should be more open and also more careful. “Histrian may do some unwelcome research into me.”
“I apologize for not taking this into consideration in Mehadia; the circumstances gave me no time to consider everything, and Histrian’s interest might open some new doors for you. You should not rely on S’Severin, after losing your position as commander. I agree that everything appears to be on a knife-edge, like many other things in our lives.”
“I would prefer to decide for myself what doors to open.”
“A valid request,” he agreed. “We had some agreements in Mehadia,” Calin moved away from my complaint, and I had to let it pass too, even though the other me, Tudor, was becoming more dangerous in the game I played. A knife-edge, as Calin had said without realizing how right he was. “Then I have to play the Secretary for you,” he smiled. “What is your first question?”
“The Circle.”
“What do you know about the Circle?” he asked, in a bland voice, but clearly, he had not expected my question.
“It exists,” I said curtly – he was the one with the information.
“A secret society founded five hundred years ago, after the Empire’s self-destruction. The Circle aims to create a new one. Their first step went well; after one hundred years, four kingdoms were created on the ruins of the Empire, and they expected to have a new empire two hundred years later. Do you know of any empire that exists out there,” he gestured toward the window, “and I missed?”
“What went wrong?”
“The person who knows the answer to that question will become emperor, if time is on his side. I don’t see it happening in a man’s lifetime, though,” Calin shrugged. “It may be that the game is too complex. There are four competing Circles, one in each kingdom. Which of them will reap most of the benefits? Sometimes things go wrong, despite the efforts of the Circles. Look at the chaos we have now in the former Frankis Kingdom.”
“Livonia could expand here, and take a step forward.”
“Maybe, but it didn’t. Don’t ask me why. We always have a new king in the making here. Now it is Orban’s time, but his real chance died some time ago. The Circle is made of Secretaries and Mesters, and they elect a leader every ten years. Sages, they name themselves: Sages of the Realm. Some of them are wise; others are wicked, greedy and plain stupid. Orban’s first term started badly, Cernat refused to let him marry his daughter. I don’t know why Cernat snubbed the Circle, but the Sages will never forgive him or the actual lady S’Severin.”
I couldn’t help but notice that, while all other Seigneurs were accorded their Seigniorial names, Cernat and Orban were not. In very different ways, they were unique, and did not need a particular title to reflect their importance.
“Cernat and his family were allowed to leave when their city was taken,” I countered.
“The Circle wanted her daughters. The eldest one is already marked, and the youngest will be tested next year. After that, lady S’Severin and Cernat are no longer needed. Do you know about marking?” he asked, and I shook my head in silence, just to oppose him to Balan, still trying to grasp that ‘no longer needed’. “There are certain lineages that the Circle keeps an eye on. One reason for the fall of the Empire was degeneration from too much interbreeding. Promising men and women of strong lineages are marked, and they are not many. Orban’s second term was more for his son, Bernd, who was marked too, and whose death remains a mystery.” He stared at me, questioning if I knew about Bernd, and I just nodded. “Bernd was Cantemir’s nominate to take the second term. Next year, a new face will enter the game.”
“Are you a member?”
“I wish. Only the Secretaries working for Dukes and Grand Seigneurs are accepted. A very select club, don’t you think? But I undertook some services for them in the past, and it was a good time to learn.”
“You still provide some services.”
“If they ask me, yes, but my value has decreased. You probably know why.”
“What we lost in value we gained in other ways,” Mara interjected quickly, afraid that I might be irritated by Calin’s veiled complaint, and she smiled at me.
“Yes, you recovered your liberty,” Calin agreed. “It’s late. The old man needs to sleep.” He was not that old, just fifty-nine years, two years more than Cernat, so it was mostly a self-deprecating joke and part of a strategy still hidden to m
e. He stood up, and left the room.
Amber, I thought, a realization unrelated to our conversation. It came to me as Calin passed and I held my wine glass at eye level, my hand resting on the backrest of my chair, and his body, seen through the glass, took on a strange color. Until that moment, I had not noticed the wine’s perfect color. It often happens that we see things repeatedly without really noticing them.
“It’s more comfortable here,” Mara patted the sofa, a small one, able to sit just two people, Calin’s place now vacant; I moved close to her, a pleasant intimacy that transported me again to Jara’s house. “Are you able to talk? I will not ask again about green-eyed girls,” she smiled.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, but this time I smiled back.
Gently, her hand touched the small scar at the base of my jaw. “It gives you a mysterious look, without affecting the rest,” she moved her fingers over my face to underline her words, and after a brief slide toward her, I forced myself to stay still; like any other man, my first impulse was to take her in my arms and kiss her. It would have been improper – I loved another woman, and I would have offended Mara again; she was just being friendly. My body was already inclined toward her, and slowly I moved back, as if unable to find a comfortable position. “Women appreciate mysterious men,” she laughed, leaving me unsure if her laughter was for my lost control or just a joke. “Is that not curious? A small scar like this,” she passed her fingers over it again, “enhances a man but diminishes a woman. It’s not fair, and I will no longer ask about it. Tell me about Arenia.”
Errant Page 34
