Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

“What?” he gasped.

  “If you’d apologized.” Menders greatly enjoyed the stricken look on Trentov’s face. “If you’d only apologized.”

  With that, he left the house and had determinedly put everything that the tutor had ever done to him out of his mind until it emerged during his fever and delirium. It seemed that some things, even when dealt with, are never really over.

  Now, on a clear summer morning under a sky of blazing azure lightly sketched with thin brushstrokes of cloud, he could confront all his memories and know that they were of the past and could never hurt him again. If nothing else, being sick had freed him from the exhausting effort of consciously keeping the nightmare recollections at bay.

  Menders reined Demon around toward The Shadows.

  “We’ve got to head back now,” he said. “The sun’s getting high and I’m starving. I’m sure you could use something after that run.”

  In answer, Demon tried to bite his foot.

  “Little bastard,” Menders said affectionately, swinging his leg around and settling himself astride. One advantage of an Old Mordanian saddle was the ability to sit either way, which prevented fatigue. His muscles were soft from lack of use and he was starting to feel the ride.

  “We’ll have to do some work on you, until you’re safe enough for Katrin to ride with me,” he told the farlin, who swiveled his ears back and forth, listening. “Otherwise I’ll have to go and get a big chubby Artreyan nag like Fatboy back there at home.”

  Thinking of Franz’s horse brought thoughts of Franz himself to mind.

  When Menders first recovered his vision, he’d been shocked to see that Franz’s face was full of old contusions, including what must have been a horrendous black eye. He’d asked the doctor if he’d fallen and got a typically sarcastic but affectionate reply.

  “No, Head of Household, I ran into a threshing machine named Menders.”

  It was then that Menders understood just what Franz had done for him. Coping with an ex-assassin with muscles like steel who was lashing out in delirium had been a dangerous and damaging ordeal. He’d tried to apologize, but Franz brushed it off. Later, Menders saw similar marks on Lucen’s face. Lucen was embarrassed and wouldn’t talk about it, so Menders queried Cook as she sat by his bed, punching away at dough in her bread bowl.

  “When you were at your worst they both looked like they’d been thrashed by a prizefighter,” she said frankly. “You were that far off your head. They wouldn’t let me, nor Ermina, nor Zelia near you for fear you’d hit one of us and kill us outright. Because you were delirious nothing held you back and you swung and kicked as if you were fighting off a wild animal.”

  Both men had nursed him devotedly and they had literally saved his life. They’d also managed to do something for him that he’d never thought would happen. They’d helped him to overcome the intense reserve he’d felt around other men since he was a child, something that had come courtesy of Hartzen Trentov and other cruel tutors, to say nothing of his father.

  He’d been friendly enough with other boys at school, but always at a remove. He’d always gone into a cold sweat when one of the ones who was attracted to other males would make advances toward him, though he never thrashed them as some of the other boys were wont to do. But after the weeks Franz and Lucen had to do everything for him, dressing, undressing, bathing, bed changes, he’d lost the compulsion to pull away from them. They were his friends and they were helping him – and that was all.

  It made a free and easy relationship between Menders and Franz possible. Their friendship had always been warm, but at times Menders had found himself wondering if Franz’s closeness had an ulterior motive. Franz was a physical man. At first Menders had been wary, and it had shown. Franz had never let that sway him in the least. He was simply one of those big, bluff men who thought nothing of throwing his arm around another man’s shoulders, mock wrestling with him or calling him by ridiculous and affectionately abusive nicknames. Now Menders could reciprocate without feeling compromised in any way. He was glad of it.

  He was also grateful for another thing that showed Franz’s mettle. While delirious, Menders had begged Franz to take Katrin out of Mordania if he died and he’d thought Franz had agreed simply to humor a sick man off his head. But later Franz had come to him and reminded him of the promise. Menders’ illness had brought Katrin’s vulnerability home to both of them.

  Together they had come up with a plan. Should Menders die or be incapacitated, Franz would take Katrin to Erdstrom and sail for Surelia. If the weather was unfavorable, for Erdstrom was sometimes ice-locked in winter, they could wait in a safe house that Menders had acquired there and sail by the first available boat. Menders owned untraceable property in Surelia, a legacy of his final mission as an assassin. There, Franz would raise Katrin as his daughter. She would effectively disappear from the face of Eirdon.

  “The painful thing will be that you couldn’t have contact with anyone at The Shadows or in Erdahn, not even to let them know that you and Katrin are alive,” Menders warned. “Letters could be intercepted and traced.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Franz replied. “It would be a complete break, as effective as if she and I had both suddenly died.” They both went silent.

  “If you were incapacitated, but alive, I would take you too,” Franz finally said. “That has to be part of the agreement.”

  “What, if I went blind or the like? Tie yourself down with that? No. Absolutely no.” Menders clenched his teeth.

  “Shut up and don’t be so noble all the time, it’s a damn bore. If you’re living, you’ll go with Katrin and me if I have to drag you strapped to a pallet. You can be the blind uncle or half-mad cousin. If you were living, you couldn’t be separated from her and I would refuse to go without you. It would be a cruelty to deprive Katrin of you. So we’d best settle it now. If alive, you will go with us. Take it or leave it, Menders.”

  Unwilling to show the surge of emotion that went through him, Menders stared at Franz through his darkened glasses.

  “And don’t try glaring at me through those goggles, because it doesn’t work,” Franz added fiercely. “Save us a lot of time and just nod.”

  After a moment, Menders nodded.

  “Good. Now, enough of a grim subject. See to it that you don’t end up incapacitated or dead, because I forbid you to ever get sick again. Damned if I’ll put up with you beating my brains out another time.”

  Demon caught sight of The Shadows and decided he was going to gallop home. Menders was glad to let him go, releasing his memories of Franz and their conversation. His stomach was clamoring for food. The faster they got home, the better.

  Of course they were caught red-handed by Franz, who was standing by the stable, looking thunderous.

  “You damned idiot!” he raged as Menders and Demon slid to a stop in the yard and Menders dismounted. “I told you to ride my horse, not that circus animal! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “Franz, I think I should ask you to marry me. You nag less than Ermina,” Menders said, grinning at the big man. Demon took a nip at Franz and got a whack for it from Menders.

  “Gods, I give up. I spend weeks putting you back together and the first thing you do is go out on that demented animal!”

  “Yes Mama,” Menders purred. Franz stormed off into the house while Menders unsaddled Demon and turned him out to pasture. The little farlin, far from being weary from their long ride, bucked, whirled and tore away across the grass as if his feet were on fire.

  (15)

  Deception

  One look around the breakfast table let Menders know that the Shadows residents were not happy. Eiren was red-eyed and had obviously been crying. Cook was tight lipped and silent. Lucen and Zelia were intent on their plates and Hemmett, for once, was cowed by the atmosphere. Menders said nothing, sat down and kissed a delighted Katrin, who was in her high chair at his side.

  Once Menders was no longer bedridden, Ermina had ceased to treat him l
ike a child, but now there was a struggle for power between the two of them that wasn’t pretty. It caused a disruption of household harmony. Menders was unwilling to sacrifice the peace and unity he’d worked so hard to create.

  Menders found Cook to be in a perpetual bad mood when he was released from bed rest. Through careful questioning he’d found that Ermina had been meddling by trying to alter the way Cook organized meals.

  Cook had always served a sit-down breakfast and dinner, with the midday meal self-served from the kitchen sideboard. There was always a pot of soup or stew simmering on the back of one of the ranges, so that food was immediately available at any time for members of the household, estate farmers who were doing work on or around The Shadows or families in need. A plentiful supply of bread, cake, cookies, cheese, sweets and cold meat was always at hand. Cook worked incessantly from before sunup until dinner was done. The pick-up lunch was a good system, because at midday people could be anywhere. Trying to have a sit-down meal with everyone together would have been a logistical nightmare.

  During Menders’ illness, Ermina had decided to order a sit-down meal in the middle of the day. Cook resisted successfully but apparently there had been quite an altercation. It was still on Cook’s mind when Menders was released from bed rest, because Ermina kept nagging at her about it. Ermina could worry an issue like a dog worried an old bone.

  “The middle of the day has to be free because that’s when I do the baking,” Cook told him when he’d gone to see why she was banging pots around. “It’s no easy feat feeding eight people, to say nothing of the estate folk in need.”

  “I’m well aware it isn’t, Cook,” he’d agreed. “I’ll deal with Ermina. You know exactly what you’re doing and don’t need to be ordered around by anyone.”

  She’d given him a huge slice of nut cake to take back to his office, as well as a big smile and a kiss on the cheek.

  The argument with Ermina over that issue had raged for an hour and gotten him nowhere. She was convinced that her official position as housekeeper gave her the right to order the rest of them around. She’d gotten a taste of power while he was ill and nothing was going to shift her now.

  He’d come to realize that Ermina was limited in her mindset, had little empathy for people and was very conventional in her views. To Ermina, servants could be commanded by anyone who was their social superior, children stayed in nurseries and had schedules and men who slept with women proposed marriage and made babies.

  Things were progressing just as Franz had predicted. Ermina was pressing Menders to marry her. In a moment where he was feeling extremely dejected, fearful that he’d always be an invalid and that he would never regain enough vision to function, Ermina had climbed into bed with him. He’d been glad of the contact and distraction at the time but since then she’d begun to insist that he go to the altar with her.

  No matter what he said, she argued with him. Arguing with Ermina was like punching a sponge. No matter how hard you hit, it made no impression.

  Menders had known as soon as he’d begun to love the baby given to him that he could never marry, because he could never put anyone before Katrin. It would be cruel to enter into marriage with a woman and then continually expect her to put another woman’s child before herself or her own children. Katrin would always be first in his heart, as long as he lived. He’d tried to explain this to Ermina, with no success.

  “That’s nonsense! She’s someone else’s baby. You couldn’t possibly put her before a wife.” Ermina scowled at him.

  “I could and I would. She’s my baby.”

  “She is not! She’s the Queen’s baby. I think you’ve lost your mind!”

  “I felt the same way before I was sick. I told you the same thing then and you had no difficulty accepting it.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said smugly.

  “Well I haven’t.”

  “Menders, if you would just marry me, we could have children of our own, and then you would be able to put Katrin in her place. She’s someone else’s child and one day she’ll either grow up or be summoned to Court and then where will you be?”

  “With her. I’ll serve her and protect her, always. I’m sorry, but that is the way things are. You can sit there and think up arguments all day. I will not change, ever!” He’d made the mistake of letting his voice rise in irritation. She jumped all over that weakness, knowing she was wearing him down.

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it. You don’t have to stay with her. All you have to do is make sure that her upbringing is being carried out properly. You could live somewhere else. You could have your own house on the estate, a wife, children that are yours, not someone else’s! You don’t have to be a nursemaid to her!”

  “I’ve made my choice and it isn’t going to change,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “What would you do if Katrin and I were both drowning?” she shrieked. “Which one would you save?”

  “You would drown!” he shouted back. Ermina slammed out of the room dramatically.

  Now Menders waited until his plate was filled, because he was ready to chew through the tabletop. He ate half his breakfast and then looked up.

  “I’d like to talk to all of you about something,” he said. “Since I fell ill there seems to be some confusion regarding who gives orders in the household and who is in charge. I thought we had an understanding about how things work, but that seems no longer to be the case.

  “I want all of you to know that I am the head of this household. This is set out in the charter given to me by Her Majesty, the Queen. If anyone is going to give orders, it will be me. I have never given orders to any of you and don’t intend to begin, because we live here as a family, not as servants and master. Should I be away or should something happen to me, Franz is the person to go to with questions. Ermina, you are to stop ordering people around. That is my order.”

  He didn’t watch as she jumped up and fled from the room.

  “You’ve got balls,” Lucen muttered.

  “You’ll certainly hear about it,” Franz added.

  “That isn’t anything for anyone else to worry about. Kata, Eiren, you continue with the regular nursery routine, just as you always have. Cook, the same for the kitchen. Lucen, I don’t have to tell you what to do. As far as I’m concerned, none of you are servants. You’re my family. Now, if you would be so kind as to fill my plate again, Cook, I would be most grateful.”

  “I’d say things are back to normal, with you eating enough for three,” Cook grinned, filling his plate generously and passing it back down. Menders tucked in, gratified. He’d have another scene with Ermina, that was to be sure, but the rest of his people were happy again.

  One thing was now resolute and clear in his mind. Ermina would have to go.

  ***

  “I’m going to have a baby”

  Ermina stood before Menders in his office, smiling broadly in the wake of her announcement. She tried to snake her arms around his neck, but gasped in dismay as he pushed away and sat down behind his desk.

  Menders had called her into his office tell her he was going to seek another position for her. Well, she seemed to have upset that idea. He had to admit, grudgingly, that her timing was brilliant.

  “What’s the matter, lover?” she wailed in dismay.

  “You even have to ask?” Menders snorted in disgust. “I’ve been very careful and used preventives any time we’ve been together. You agreed to do the same. I’ve told you why I cannot and do not want to have children and you agreed to those conditions.”

  “I changed my mind,” she interrupted.

  “I see. You didn’t inform me, of course,” Menders replied coldly.

  “You’ll be happy about it, you’ll see,” she cooed, going all fluttery. “You like children, darling! Once you have a child of your own, you won’t have to dote on Katrin so. All that is just love wasted, because she can’t ever be your child.”

  “Get out of my office. I don’t w
ant to talk to you right now or listen to your nonsense.”

  Ermina waxed furious.

  “Turning me out won’t change the fact that I’m carrying your child!” she sniped.

  “Whether you are or not will remain to be seen,” Menders said quietly. “But I’ll tell you this – I absolutely will not sleep with you again. It was a mistake to go back to it when I was sick. Believe me, once I learn a lesson, I learn it for good.”

  “Well, you learned this one too late,” she railed. “You have to do the right thing by me now!”

  “And that is?” Menders asked, deliberately crossing his legs, looking up at her over his glasses.

  “You have to marry me unless you want your child to be a bastard,” she hissed.

  “Even if you are pregnant, which I sincerely doubt, I will not marry you,” Menders replied, his voice like ice.

  “You’d have to!” She stood there glaring at him, sharp faced and scowling.

  “Do not begin, for even one moment, to think you will ever be in a position to tell me what I have to do! You would have to prove that the child was mine and even then I would only be obligated to support it, not to marry you.”

  “Are you saying that I’m unfaithful?” Ermina shouted in righteous indignation.

  “I think you would do anything to get what you want,” Menders replied. “You haven’t proven to me that you’re pregnant and I wouldn’t put lying about it past you. Now, get out of here.”

  “I am pregnant! I’m two months along!” Ermina shrilled.

  “You’re fabricating this entire thing,” Menders responded calmly. “You underestimate me.”

  Ermina gasped and glared and then dashed to the door.

  “We’ll just wait then! Likely it’ll have freak’s eyes like you and then you won’t be able to deny it!”

  She believed that making remarks about his eyes hurt him and almost never failed to do it during their increasingly frequent and violent arguments. Ermina had no qualms about people hearing them quarreling. She had the ability to drive Menders to the roaring point as well as a talent for identifying his vulnerabilities and hammering at them until he was ready to kill her. Nonetheless, twitting him about his eyes did not work. After twenty-one years he was immune to anything anyone could say about them. In truth, he was proud of them.