Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven (23 page)

Something of the thrill of being courted had rapidly worn off for Mari.

She had, now and then, heard girls—Braith in particular—complaining about how “tiresome” it was to have several young men at their heels, and had thought they were engaging in a sort of showing off. Now she was not so sure. Compliments were lovely… but after you heard them several times, you began to wonder how sincere they were. The young Selch seemed to be a great deal like most other young men, who wanted to get the courting part over with as quickly as possible, and on to the bedding part.

These young men were thorough-going young pagans, too, which meant they had even less patience with courting than the boys up in Clogwyn.

Although she did her very best not to show her partiality, because she was using the “courting” to put off making a decision for as long as she could, Mari had rejected Mabon within days of the Selch turning up. He was a nice enough lad, but it was hard to have a conversation with the top of a head. “Shy” didn’t even begin to describe him. He was the only one of the lot who seemed to have no idea why he had been selected to woo and win her.

Well, she had no idea either, unless it was someone’s idea that if she didn’t respond to the beauteous and ever-so-pleased with himself Rhodri, she might respond to someone who was the opposite. And although it was
tempting
to decide on someone she probably could treat like a pet or a rug, she would be living with whatever man she chose for months, and she really didn’t want a lapdog.

They were all nice enough lads, for a lot of heathen magic creatures with no notion of what the world was like nowadays and quaint ideas that were probably considered old-fashioned when Owen Tudor walked the hills, but while all this was amusing in its way, it was not something she wanted to live with and cope with for however
long it would take to produce a couple of babies.
She
was the one who was going to have to deal with a curious village, an even more curious and hostile constable (who was certainly going to want to know just where the new husband had materialized from) and the repercussions when husband and one of the babies vanished.

And none of them seemed to grasp the difficulties, or be willing to accept that things on land were not as they always had been.

None of them, that is, except Idwal.

She had discovered this when she was trying to convince Rhodri that no one truly believed in the Selch anymore except children and a few old people.

“That’s nonsense,” he said, waving his hand as if that would make it all go away. “Completely daft. It isn’t a matter of
believing
, as if we were gods no one can see. We’re quite real and solid when we choose to be. How can anyone not believe in us?”

Idwal came up behind him where he was sitting on the sand, making net-weights out of stones and cord, and cuffed him on the back of the head. “Ow!” he exclaimed indignantly. “What’s that for?”

“For being a great goose,” Idwal said in disgust. “Idiot. The gods walked the hills once, real and solid, too. Tis an easy thing to learn to not believe, particularly when your liege and your neighbors and your priest are all telling you to believe in something else entirely, and making it worth your while to do as they say.” He made himself comfortable next to Mari. “Look at you! You’re doing it this moment! You’re
not believing
Mari as hard as you can, because believing her will mean you’ll be put to some trouble.”

“Are you saying I’m lazy or a fool?” demanded Rhodri.

“Both.”

Rhodri stared at him, blue eyes burning a hole in the older man, plainly seething. “Your status as Master, Druid, and teacher has gone to your head.”

“My experience as Master, Druid, and teacher has taught me how to recognize a fool when I see one, and my experience with
you
tells me that you’ll avoid being forced to think about consequences at every possible occasion.” Idwal raised an eyebrow.

Rhodri made a great show of tying off the last net-weight, and got to his feet. “I think I can tell when my company is a burden,” he declared. “Enjoy your puttering about with magic, Mari. And mind, I’m going to walk with you in the moonlight on the shingle tonight.”

“So I promised,” she agreed, and the handsome Selch—well, he didn’t exactly
flounce
off, but there was pent irritation in every step.

Idwal sighed. “It seems,” he said, carefully, “At least from what I overheard, that mortal life is more complex and fraught these days. I do not know that I can help with any solutions, but would you begin at the beginning and just explain what this
constable
person is all about, and why he should be troubling you?”

Mari began by explaining what a constable was, then why she and her da surmised that he was here in the first place, then what would likely happen when he got wind of not one, but five strange men turning up daily here at the cottage.

The Selch’s brow furrowed. “I believe I see. The others look at you, and see someone who lives away from the town, and think this distance protects you, as if you were a hermit. Perhaps in the old days, it did. But now it does not protect you, and the overlord may send his sheriff at any time to enforce whatever decree he has made.” He shook his head. “Perhaps this is one reason why we returned to the sea in the long ago, because men were creating overlords who answered to no will but their own and professed to be master and owner of not only the land but the people thereon.”

She sighed with relief at having finally gotten through to one of the Selch, at least. “It wasn’t like this in grandfather’s time. Being out here in our cottage did keep people from nosing about. I don’t really think that anyone actually knew, in the town, that Grandfather even
had
a wife until he turned up with Da, and told everyone that the gypsy he’d spent a season with had come by and left the baby with him saying it was his.”

Idwal nodded. “And… if I understand correctly… the tale that your grandfather had pleasured himself with a gypsy without the bonds of marriage was seen as something admirable?”

She had to shrug. “Maybe not that. Well, the women would have said things. But the men would have pretended to be shocked, but secretly thought he was quite the sly, clever fellow.”

“But for you… having congress without a marriage is a deep disgrace.” Idwal frowned deeper. “We do not think in this way. We do not think congress is a bad thing, with or without marriage. And we welcome every birth. Inheritance among us comes through the mother—as does lineage. After all, no man can be absolutely sure of who his father is, but there is no doubt who is his mother.”

She giggled at that, a little embarrassed by his frankness, then sobered. “But we don’t think that way, and I could even be in trouble from the—the sheriff. I’m not sure, but it is possible. There might be laws about it, town laws, not just church or chapel laws. Without a marriage and banns and all that, we could be in real difficulty. People might refuse to buy or trade for da’s fish, or to sell us things.”

“Well then, there must be a marriage,” Idwal said firmly. “Would it be possible to take a journey in the coracle to the greater town, and find there someone who would make a marriage? Then you would have your paper, and all would be well.”

She blinked at that; it was something she hadn’t even thought of for herself. And certainly there were enough Nonconformist sects in Criccieth that
one
of them would surely be willing to marry a couple that just turned up out of nowhere. Oh… but then there were the banns to be posted and those had to be posted in the chapel where you lived. Or you had to get a special license, and how did you do that?

“Also,” he continued thoughtfully, “I have heard it said that the captain of a ship may conduct a marriage. Ship captains are always in need of money. We could bring up some gold and pay one to do this, and we would not be concerned with propriety
or
silence, for who would ask him?”

Her mouth fell open. Now that was a
very
good idea! Not only that, but this idea gave birth to another. “And if we said my husband was a sailor—sailors are
always
dying at sea! So when he goes
back—I can say he’s joined his ship. Then maybe da goes into Criccieth, and sends a telegraph about him dying to me here, and I go into mourning and—but how do I explain a missing baby?”

“You will have twins, as our chieftain said,” Idwal replied, as if it was as certain as the sun rising. “And you will merely hide one. This should be of no matter and no great difficulty.”

“If you say so…” But she could not help but admire how Idwal, instead of arguing about how she was certainly wrong, or mistaken, or just being foolish, had asked for explanations, bent his mind to help her, and done so.

And that was when it struck her.

She wasn’t attracted to any of the “boys.” In fact, that was how she thought of them. But Idwal…

Saints. I could be happy with Idwal… I think. And he wouldn’t need to leave when I’d chosen; he could keep teaching me about magic. He’d be good company. Da never grumbles about him.

In fact, the notion of being with Idwal gave her a little thrill in her stomach. Whereas the notion of being with the boys gave her a feeling of resignation.

This was worth exploring. But in the meantime—

“You were going to show me how to summon Water creatures,” she said, deliberately choosing the word “summon,” although that was not what he had said.

“No, my student,” he corrected with a smile. “And I know that you are testing me. I did not say that word. I am going to show you how to
invite
them. While it is true that a Water Master can always compel an Elemental to come with his will, I shall not teach you that. To summon is to exert the will of the master over the slave. To invite is to ask, politely, for the assistance of an ally. Which would
you
prefer, if you were the one being called for?”

She chuckled. “The latter, of course. If you please?”

“I knew you would say that.” He smiled broadly. “Let us go to the spring.”

G
OWER
Manor had a cottage, a newish building, not a traditional “cottage,” built and kept especially to lend to friends of the squire who chose to holiday here rather than in some more fashionable watering spot. This much Nan had learned with careful inquiry around Criccieth. Then, her letters of introduction in hand, she paid a visit to the squire.

That the cottage was vacant, she already knew. That much was common knowledge in the town. What wasn’t known was whether or not someone was likely to take up tenancy there in the next two or three weeks. The squire, despite the fact that his family had lived here for four generations, still considered himself English, not Welsh; the residents of Criccieth felt exactly the same. By this point there wasn’t much (if any) animosity, but there also wasn’t much communication, either.

So Nan and Sarah took the hired pony-cart off for an investigative visit, which had turned up the satisfying information that there were no friends who wished to avail themselves of the cottage this year. And a little more conversation about how Sarah preferred more privacy than they got at the Lion Hotel, and a bit of name-dropping,
induced the information that the squire would be perfectly happy to let it to two such delightful—and well-connected—young ladies.

Nan had a pretty good notion of what he was thinking. He might be able to find a tenant in the form of some “sporting fellows,” who would make a great deal of work for the maid, who would drink when they were not fishing, and might well make more than work for the maid. Whereas, clearly the daughters of a clergyman would be up to no mischief in such a spot, remote from the temptations of a city.

Even if he briefly entertained the idea that they might want privacy so that some illicit liaison could take place, the only way to reach the cottage required that anyone who cared to visit them would have to first drive or ride up to the Manor itself.

And Nan looked like quite the stern fire-breathing old spinster; hardly the sort to allow her prettier sibling to do anything other than what she was
supposed
to do: recover her strength.

And they were so
very
well-connected!

It was quite clear to Nan that the squire had weighed all this quickly in his mind before agreeing to lease the cottage to two unchaperoned women, which was why she had covertly studied the dress and behavior of some of the more puritanical ladies of Criccieth in order to imitate them. She hadn’t gone too far—she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to keep a straight face—but she’d managed to make herself look years older and sufficiently unattractive to satisfy the conscience of both the squire and his even-more-suspicious spouse.

Gower Cottage was
not
a cottage of the sort that one of the local people would live in; it was the gentry’s idea of a cottage. This meant it had been built to modern lines, copying local architecture. It had thick stone walls, three hearths, with nice iron stoves instead of fireplaces, stone floors with carpets instead of pounded earth, and a girl coming over from the Manor twice a week to do for them and bring them whatever they needed in the way of foodstuffs. It was actually more comfortable than the hotel for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was you could throw open the windows and
have a cool sea breeze flowing right through the place. One of the first letters Nan wrote to Lord Alderscroft recommended the place to any of the White Lodge who felt the need to escape for a rest.