Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  One night, after walking around the garden and spending some time sitting beneath the Assassin’s Tree, she’d been startled to find Menders waiting quietly on the terrace in his dressing gown when she went back to the house.

  “Good evening, Little Princess,” he said with a smile.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked.

  “No, I was awake. I came out to be sure you were all right.”

  Katrin looked at him in amazement. “I was careful to be quiet. How did you know I was out here?”

  Menders sat back in his wicker chair, smiled and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, this old house and me… you know, we’ve been here for quite a while now. It’s in my bones. I just sense when things are different - like the big clock in the entryway. I can tell you it’s running about four minutes slow, just from the sound of it. I’ll need to reset it.”

  Katrin strained her ears to hear the deep steady rhythm of the clock through the open windows. It was such a common background sound that she was usually unaware of it.

  “I just wanted to walk around,” she explained.

  “And to be alone. I truly understand,” Menders replied, his eyes kind as he drew her down to sit beside him. “But Katrin…”

  “I know. It’s not safe,” she sighed.

  “I’m sorry, but no, it isn’t.”

  “But then if it’s not safe here, then where is it safe? And when will it ever be?” Katrin blurted, the words tumbling from her, more confused than angry. “We have fences, trip alarms, foot patrols, mounted patrols, night watches, tower guards, body guards, dozens of heavily armed men! We’re miles and miles out in the middle of nowhere!”

  “I know. I know,” Menders soothed. “I tell myself that it’s all too much and I’m being over protective, while at the same time I agonize that it’s not enough. But if there was even one small slip, if anything happened to you, Katrin, I don’t know that I could bear it. So please, humor an old man.”

  Katrin looked at him and smiled. He was not old and she could never think of him as such. She also knew, beneath her frustration, that he was right.

  “I won’t do it again,” she sighed. “I just liked being out here, in the quiet, smelling all the trees blooming.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Menders said after a moment. “I happen to like midnight prowls too and I’m usually up late. I know it wouldn’t be the same as being completely alone, but if you let me know when you want to dander around the garden in the middle of the night, I’ll just sit here and you can wander.”

  “If you were up, I’d want you to come with me,” Katrin smiled and Menders laughed a little.

  “Well, you were my shadow when you were a little thing, so now I’ll be yours,” he teased. “Now, are you ready to go in or do I have time to smoke a cigar?”

  “I’m not sleepy, but a cigar, Menders?”

  “I have one a couple of times a year, and the occasional puff on one of the Men’s cigars. It won’t kill me to indulge myself,” he answered. “Vices in extreme moderation, my dear, will do very little harm.” He took the cigar from the pocket of his dressing gown and lit it.

  “What is that like?” Katrin asked, watching as he puffed the cigar.

  “You won’t like it, but here,” he said, handing it to her. “Don’t draw it down into your lungs, just in your mouth so you taste the smoke.”

  She put it to her lips and knew instantly that he was right, even without drawing on it – she didn’t like it. She handed it back to him, shaking her head. He laughed a little and put it in his mouth again. She sat with him until he finished it, happy to be with him and to be out on a beautiful night. It wasn’t being alone, but it was the next best thing.

  (45)

  Leptham

  “Now here’s some news,” Ifor said as he decoded a message from Bartan. “It seems that Princess Aidelia has been a bit more stable, lately.”

  “And the Queen?” Menders asked, leaning against the doorjamb of Ifor’s office.

  “Still drunk as a sailor on shore leave most of the time. Barty says at this point she’s not a player at Court. Keeps to herself. Aidelia has a satellite Court around her, a strange assortment of oddbodys, but no-one who seems to be a real threat. As far as the Court is concerned, Katrin has disappeared. Many of them don’t seem to know of her existence.”

  “That’s the way I want it,” Menders said with satisfaction. “The less people know of her, the better. Tell Bartan I still want a written report on the crowd around Aidelia. They may be harmless but a mob like that… anyone could slip in there.”

  “Right you are,” Ifor replied, writing rapidly. “I don’t think you’ll ever make Katrin disappear entirely, but with things as quiet down there as they have been of late, we might manage some peace and quiet for ourselves.”

  Ifor handed the incoming message to his assistant, Olan, who filed it immediately, before it became lost in the welter of paper that was Ifor’s desk.

  “I’ll get this reply off to Bartan tonight,” Ifor continued, scribbling away.

  “Excellent. Can I interest either of you in a journey to the Eastern Ocean?” Menders asked. He’d been thinking that Katrin needed to get out more. With the pleasant weather and the quiet political scene, he’d decided a small vacation might be in order.

  Olan shook his head. “I’ll stay here if I may, help Papa with some of the summer work,” he said.

  “Fair enough. Ifor?”

  “I’m game. I’m sure Kip will be too.”

  “Get the Men together and we’ll draw up our travel plans,” Menders replied, trying not to smirk over Ifor’s casual use of his nickname for Kaymar. Menders was leaving nothing to chance. Groups of the Men would travel with and ahead of Katrin’s party, for her safety.

  “I’ll set a meeting for tonight, while everyone is on site.” Ifor started making a list.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Menders said. He went up the stairs two at a time to tell Eiren.

  From Menders’ Journal

  It’s trite to marvel about how quickly time passes, but I do marvel when I think of the children and how they have grown and matured.

  Hemmett is the most seasoned and worldly of the three, thanks to his years away at the Military Academy. Despite his buffoonery and jovial nature, he is actually quite serious and levelheaded. He already shows the qualities that will make him a fine and decent man and a first class officer.

  In the future, should Hemmett no longer wish to serve as the Commander of Katrin’s Guard, his path through the higher ranks of the military establishment is assured. His success is certain, no matter what path he chooses. He makes me proud, always.

  I can confide here that Borsen is the dearest to my heart. He is my son, my Little Man, the child I was supposed to have who has found me despite myself. He has blossomed and grown, not only in physical stature, but in confidence and self assurance. What he lacks in physical size he makes up in spirit and determination.

  He approaches new ideas with enthusiasm and careful forethought. I see in him a reflection of myself, as if somehow I can erase some of the stains of my own past and give the world a child raised with the love, guidance and care that was denied me.

  Borsen continues to speak of going into business, not in a small enterprise, but with grand plans. I feel he will have the competence and confidence to accomplish all he desires.

  And then Katrin, the golden-haired Princess, the first child I chose to love as my own and who will always be a part of me. Her future concerns me most. She is bright and outgoing and she is no longer the baby and child who was easily distracted with childish things. She is a young lady about to reach full maturity. What direction her life will take is a quandary that looms large these days – for both of us.

  A cloistered upbringing at the Shadows seemed the best way to keep Katrin safe from enemies of the royal line and the terrible political machinations that are commonplace in Mordania. This has served us well up to the present, but I know she i
s becoming restless with her confinement, as is appropriate at her age. The planned holiday to Leptham will help ease such restiveness, at least for a while.

  Unlike her foster brothers, Katrin sees no clear purpose or direction for herself and although she has taken on the duties of The Shadows’ housekeeper with admirable skill, has learned a great deal about the management of the estate and also shows her own enterprise in such projects as soap, candle and perfume making, I fear these interests will not entirely occupy her active mind for much longer.

  She has shown no interest in becoming Queen and I have every intention of encouraging this attitude. Considering the disastrous effect being Queen has had on her mother and Katrin’s own personality, I believe it would be the worst thing that could happen to her. As restricted as her freedom is now, becoming Queen would make her a virtual prisoner, if the traditional ways were followed. She would suffer terribly in such a situation. It must be avoided at all costs.

  There is time to formulate whatever plans we may require in the future, but for now, in the quiet dark hours of the morning I think of Katrin, my most loved and precious daughter. Whatever am I to do with you?

  ***

  Strolling along the beach, hands in pockets, feeling the sea spray and the crunch of fine sand beneath his shoes, Menders reflected that he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this relaxed.

  Leptham was a town on the Eastern Ocean. It was small, unspoiled and slow paced, unlike the more fashionable resort towns, or the larger industrial towns further south where ocean freighters and liners left for Hetzophia and Surytam.

  The three youngsters loved the place. There was much for them to do. Hemmett lived in his swimming costume when he wasn’t rostered for guard duty. Borsen followed his lead and was growing strong and hearty from hours of swimming and playing in the water. Katrin was more careful of her complexion, as she burned easily. She still spent plenty of time in the warm water of the ocean, when she wasn’t gathering piles of shells or refereeing whatever contest Hemmett dreamed up, be it a swimming race or water fight. She loved to throw sticks into the water for Dara and the other boarhounds to fetch and wondered why other hotel guests gave the enormous wet dogs a wide berth.

  Looking up the beach, Menders saw Borsen seated by Kaymar on the sand, with Ifor fishing not far away.

  A few months before, Kaymar had spoken to Menders about Borsen, concerned that the boy could become a target for pederasts, given his loving nature and craving for affection.

  “He’s going to be beautiful soon, Menders, and then he’ll be in real danger if he isn’t given some direction and information,” Kaymar explained intensely.

  Menders had cocked an eyebrow. Borsen was winsome and a far cry from the skeletal child he’d been, but he’d yet to grow into his teeth, his ears stuck out, and he looked years younger than his age. “Beautiful?” he said doubtfully.

  “Let’s agree that I notice things that wouldn’t occur to you,” Kaymar responded sarcastically. “He’s going to need to know the facts of life from the point of view of a nancyboy - that includes protecting himself from pederasts. You aren’t going to be able to provide that. You don’t want him coming to harm. Neither do I. Let me have a talk with him.”

  Menders had agreed readily, relieved. He’d considered the subject at times and had been at a loss as to how to open such a conversation with his nephew. His own miserable experience made such things distasteful to him, no matter how he tried to overcome it. He didn’t want Borsen to sense his distaste. The boy was sensitive to the point of being psychic and would be heartbroken if he suspected his uncle’s discomfort.

  Borsen was listening intently and nodding appreciatively while the two of them worked on a sand castle. As Menders watched, Kaymar laughed suddenly and ruffled the boy’s hair. All was going well.

  Katrin and Hemmett were on the hotel lawn, playing a game of wicketball with two small children who were in residence with their widowed mother. Such games involving Hemmett were always anarchic, with various declarations of “new” rules and wild interpretations of established ones. With these two children he was careful and gentle, frequently declaring that people who didn’t reach his waist got extra turns. Katrin laughed at his antics and helped the little ones with their mallets.

  Katrin had attracted considerable male attention during their stay, particularly during the dinner dances at the hotel. Where many young girls her age would have flirted and been incredibly flattered, she remained cool and reserved. She danced only with the men in their party. When one young man continued to ask her to dance after she had declined politely, she had whispered to Menders that she needed him to snarl at her would-be suitor.

  “You may dance with him if you wish,” he’d told her.

  “I don’t wish. I don’t feel comfortable. I’d rather dance with people I know,” she answered.

  “Then I shall remind the young gentleman that it is considered impolite to continue pressing his suit once a lady has courteously refused.” Menders spoke quietly to the young man and sent him on his way.

  After all, she’s only just fifteen, although she looks older, he thought. Plenty of time for her to be interested in young men later. At least she knew what she wanted and didn’t feel pressured to endure unwanted attention. When Hemmett was her escort there was no difficulty with would-be suitors. Surprisingly, Borsen had proven to be an even more effective deterrent, because when he was escorting Katrin, he suddenly exuded a sinister quality that otherwise did not exist in his makeup. He was not about to brook any nonsense from unwanted, over-attentive young men.

  Eiren walked out onto the long verandah that ran the length of the hotel and Menders waved from the beach to attract her attention. She saw him, laughed, opened her sunshade and came to meet him.

  “I woke up and you were gone,” she chuckled as he kissed her and then laced his arm around her waist.

  “I was restless and didn’t want to wake you, but I did leave you a present,” Menders smiled. She nodded and touched the new brooch on her dress, fashioned in the shape of a little bird.

  “And so you’ve been beachcombing?” she asked as they turned back to the sea and stood there together.

  “A bit. Watching the young people.”

  “Menders’ brood,” Eiren said teasingly.

  “Yours too. I’m not too humble to say that they’re a credit to us.”

  “Hemmett in particular. Gods, when I remember how he was when you came here, how wild and unkempt. Imagine what he could have grown into!”

  “He was a terror only because he needed more discipline than he was being given. As soon as he was given some guidelines, he was fine. A handful, but fine.”

  “He’s a handsome young man,” Eiren said. “He’s excited more than a little attention from the young ladies and his response to them makes me wonder if he’s losing his attraction to Katrin.”

  “That’s an odd thing, because I happen to know that he had a couple of love affairs in Erdahn during the school year - nothing very serious, but definitely of a mature bent,” Menders said. “The devotion to Katrin is continual, but it’s friendly in nature. He only falls in love with her when he’s around her, which makes me fairly confident that he’s mistaking friendship and brotherly devotion for romance.”

  “Well, he has one more year left at the Academy. Maybe he’ll find a young lady to bring home to The Shadows,” Eiren said.

  “I doubt it. Hemmett strikes me as the sort of man who marries late, like his father did. There’s still a wildness and rawness in him. If the situation with Katrin becomes a problem, I will speak to him, because there is no romantic interest on her part and never will be. For now, I’m not going to fret.”

  “Good,” Eiren said with feeling.

  “As usual, we are of the same mind”, Menders smiled, stealing a kiss. “No more chatter about children and raising children for now, love, except this. What do you think of making an extended journey abroad with this lot in a couple of years
? Do you think that you’d like to see Surelia and Samorsa and… my goodness, Madame, you seem to be accosting me! Such impropriety, Madame! Shall I take such attentions to mean you agree with this proposition?”

  ***

  “That’s terrible!” Katrin said from the sofa, where she’d been playing a game of DeGratz with Borsen. “The children are so thin. Mistress Firenz tries hard, but little Masha told me that they have fish head soup a lot of the time. To think that their father died in the service and all Mistress Firenz gets is enough money to live in one room and eat fish heads.”

  “It’s even worse for widows of enlisted men,” Borsen told her heatedly. “There’s no pension for them at all, Cuz. I met a lot of them when I was moving around with my family.”

  Menders waited, curious to see where this conversation led. The little family befriended by Katrin, Borsen and Hemmett had turned out to be in desperate straits. The mother, Mistress Firenz, had collapsed from poor nutrition and exhaustion two months previous. She and her children were at the hotel through the kindness of her sister, who had been appalled when she learned of the little family’s situation. Katrin had overheard a conversation between the sister and Eiren and had immediately told Hemmett and Borsen about the plight of their new friends.

  “What?” Katrin’s voice rose in outrage.

  “That’s right,” Borsen said. “Poor women whose husbands were enlisted soldiers don’t get a thing if their man gets killed in a war. The women end up marrying the first man they can, or trying to make a living as charwomen or doing plain sewing or being prostitutes.”