The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (18 page)

She
hadn’t responded to Yozef’s last comment, lost in her thoughts, twirling a
strand of hair with her left hand. Then her eyes went from the paper back to
him, looking at her expectantly.

Maera
started to say . . . something, but her tongue caught.
Am I flustered?

Yozef
rescued her with a question. “What else is on the list?”

Maera
cleared her throat. “There are many more tradesmen in Caernford than in either
Abersford or Clengoth, and I thought you might like to visit with them and see
if there are any crafts or methods of interest. Also, you mentioned the concept
of ‘franchising,’ I think you called it, where you agree to let others use your
methods for a percentage of the profits. I know you have agreements with some
tradesmen in Clengoth to produce some of your products and wondered if the
shops you’ve established in Abersford and the Clengoth franchises are
sufficient or if you might want to consider similar arrangements here in
Caernford?”

Yozef
scrunched his mouth sideways, as he ran his tongue over his teeth—a habit she’d
noticed when he was contemplating an idea. “Now that you mention it, Cadwulf
and Filtin told me the orders for lanterns and paper products were increasing
so steadily, they predict we wouldn’t be able to fill all orders within a few
more months. We’re already adding soap and kerosene production to other
provinces. So, yes, I like your suggestion. Let’s plan on my talking with some
of the local tradesmen while I’m here.”

Maera
looked pleased, again. “Oh, and besides visiting the abbey library, did you
want to meet with any of the scholastics at St. Tomo’s? You’ll find many of them
not as open-minded as those at St. Sidryn’s but there are exceptions, and Abbot
Beynom has written Abbot Walkot at St. Tomo’s about you. I’m sure Abbot Beynom
also asked you to pass on his greetings.”

Yozef
grimaced. “The abbot did make such a request, and I’d forgotten until you
mentioned it. Thank you, Maera. I need a pocket planner or a secretary.”

Maera
ignored the new words. If they were important, she’d hear them again from Yozef
and ask about them then. She pushed the page in front of her to one side but
kept looking at it with a turned head. “Those are the major items I thought to
discuss with you. Is there anything else you can think of?”

“Since
I’ve never been to Caernford, I’d like to see the city and some of the
surrounding countryside. Are there any favorite places of
yours
?”

She
wondered whether the question was deliberate. Yozef had taken her to one of his
favorite places near Abersford, with the jacaranda trees and the day’s outing
that ended abruptly when he kissed her. She kept looking at the paper and said noncommittally,
“There are a few such places nearby. I’ll be happy to show them to you.”

Yozef
wrote to Cadwulf that he’d be staying longer in Caernford and to pass on the
information to Filtin and the other lead workers. The next sixday passed
quicker than Yozef expected. The single planned meetings with Luwis and
Kennrick extended into two additional sessions, this time with both men. Luwis,
a naturally dour man, had been borderline hostile at first, then had listened
and become more interested in Yozef’s comments once he’d thought them over.
Kennrick was reserved but pleasant from the beginning. Only by the last meeting
did Yozef fully appreciate Kennrick’s acumen and Luwis’s forthrightness.

During
one meeting, Luwis commented on increased patrols and preparation for feared
Narthani moves on other clans. At Yozef’s request, Luwis took him to a field
where fifty men on horseback were training. Yozef’s first impression was that the
men were engaged in demonstrating chaos.

“What
exactly are the men doing, Ser Luwis?” Yozef was afraid of the answer but had
to ask.

“Being
sure the men can ride, fire their muskets and pistols, then go to lance and
sword. Some men are accomplished riders but can’t handle the horse and weapons
at the same time. Others are skilled with firearms or blades but aren’t good
horsemen. This group is mainly shop workers who need work on controlling their
horses.”

“Maybe
they would do better fighting on foot.”
The Caedelli don’t know about
infantry?

“Then
how would they either escape from the enemy’s horsemen,” said Luwis, “or chase
the enemy if they retreated?”

“So
all the fighting is done from horseback?”
Please tell me no.

“Of
course, unless an enemy is hiding in buildings or heavy vegetation, or in cases
like the raid on St. Sidryn’s, where the citizens defended the abbey.”

Yozef
was discouraged. “Ser Luwis, I’m wondering what’s the biggest battle or fight Keelan
men have engaged in the last tens of years?”

“About
fifteen years ago, there was a dispute with the Eywellese stealing cattle. We
took two hundred men to catch the Eywellese, who numbered about eighty.”

“Two
hundred? Eighty? Nothing larger? Numbers in the thousands?”

“Thousands,
no. Not in my lifetime, though there are records from past generations where
fighting involved two or three thousand men.”

“What
if the Narthani attack in great numbers, and the clans need many thousands of
men to stop them? How will you or the hetmen control the fighting? I see here
that only fifty men have difficulty working together. What will happen if
instead of fifty men, it’s thousands?”

“That’s
a problem,” deadpanned Luwis.

Yozef
flinched.
No shit! That’s it? “It’s a problem?”

Yozef
remembered watching Carnigan ride off with men for a routine patrol and thought
at the time they looked like a posse—a mass of riders with no organization. Now
he cringed at the thought of that posse numbering in the thousands and facing a
disciplined army. It wasn’t an image to engender confidence.

The
other planned meetings around Caernford were scheduled during visits to St.
Tomo’s abbey. While Yozef was accustomed to divisions in attitude toward
himself by the brothers and the sisters at St. Sidryn’s, at St. Tomo’s the gap more
resembled a chasm. Maera served as guide and clued him in on the abbey’s
internal workings. Several of the scholastics were eager to meet with him, though
not all.

“Sorry,
Yozef,” said Maera. “Several of the St. Tomo’s scholastics have stubbornly refused
to meet with you. Two say they want to meet, though I suspect it will be to
refute anything out of your mouth. I’m afraid there are feelings you’re a threat
to long-held beliefs and resentment that their expertise is belittled, if
elsewhere on Anyar there’re scholastics far in advance of themselves.”

“Not
to worry. Things aren’t that much different in America. God knows, I’ve met and
seen many a person who was threatened by novel ideas or any suggestion that their
understanding wasn’t the ultimate word.”

Maera’s
caution came true, that Yozef should be prepared for difficult sessions with
some scholastics from St. Tomo’s. She witnessed one such meeting, this with a sister
specializing in astronomy who had left the meeting in a huff.

“Gravity?
Some unseen force holding people on the round planet? Obviously, it’s simply
God’s will. Stars being how far away? Nonsense. My calculations proved them to
be only a few hundreds or thousands of miles distant.” Phht!! Huff, huff.
Stomp, stomp.

As
the irate sister left, Yozef smiled, to Maera’s curiosity.

“Why
are you smiling, Yozef? The sister essentially called you both a charlatan and
the Evil One’s agent.”

“Oh,
Maera, there’re so many people with closed minds. If we let ourselves become
upset every time someone won’t listen to new ideas, we wouldn’t have time to do
anything else. I have sympathy for them. I’m seen as a threat to who they are
and their professions. People also resist changes that threaten long-held
beliefs. I expect many of the more honest ones will go away and think about
what I’ve said, then come back later to learn more, if not from me, then from
other scholastics or from their own thinking. Even if not, there will still be some
here at St. Tomo’s who
do
listen.

“Arguing
with the others once you see they how entrenched are their positions is
unlikely to convince them at the time and may have the opposite effect of
having them reject
anything
you say. All you can do is encourage them to
reconsider their ideas in the future.”

Maera
listened and felt chagrined. She could recollect many of her past discussions, in
which she was scathing when other people disagreed with her. She remembered few
times when a person had later come around to her position. Being honest with
herself, she wondered how many times Yozef was right, and all that she’d
achieved was exactly the opposite effect, by pushing them into shutting out her
ideas entirely. Part of her still liked telling people what fools they were; the
other part admitted that Yozef’s attitude likely achieved better results.

“I’m
afraid I’m not as patient as you, Yozef. I find myself wanting to be
right
in any argument. It’s not that way with you, is it? You want to get the right
answer
,
not
be
right. Yet you seem to know so much more in certain areas. Doesn’t
it give you pleasure to be smarter than most others?”

“God,
no! I may have more facts than others here, but having facts is not the same as
having intelligence. I hope I haven’t given the impression that what I’ve been
introducing here on Caedellium are my ideas.”

They
had exited the scholastic hall at St. Tomo’s while speaking and stood under a
vine-covered arbor.

“I
need to thank you again, Maera, for arranging these meetings. The ones with
Brother Nywin and Sister Yesifa about the history of your people coming to
Caedellium gives me more background into Caedellium clan interactions and
history. Also, I’m glad I met the two brothers interested in the mixing of
specific substances to generate new compounds, similar to what I studied—chemistry.
Although we didn’t have time to talk in detail, I believe they and I will have
interesting correspondence. I may even invite them to come to Abersford to personally
see our shops. I believe I know more of the basic science, but these two have
practical experience I lack, and both seem open to new ideas.”

“Science,”
echoed Maera. “You explained it to me in Abersford, but I’m still not clear
what it means beyond studying the world. Is that not what scholastics do?”

“Science
is a type of thinking. Considering all possibilities and being willing to
change your ideas if there are shown to be better ones. In practical terms, in
my shops, Filtin tries to make more efficient distillation apparatuses. He may
want stronger glass, but how does he get that stronger glass if he doesn’t know
how to make it? The answer is that he ‘experiments.’ He keeps trying different
additions to the glass until he comes up with a solution. He then remembers the
procedure and tells others. They, in turn, use his procedure until they or
someone else comes up with a better one. They then tell Filtin, and he adopts
their new procedure in an endless cycle. Once the question or the problem is identified,
science would say there are no final answers, only temporary ones.”

“What
about the theophists? Their answers aren’t temporary.”

Yozef
was slow to answer, as if carefully choosing his words. They hadn’t spoken in
depth about theological matters, so she wasn’t sure exactly what he believed.

“That’s
one difference between your people and mine. We distinguish between science and
theology. Theology deals with faith, while science says nothing can be taken on
faith. That’s a gross simplification and a difference that many great
scholastics have argued doesn’t necessarily exist. I tend to agree with the
distinction.”

Maera’s
looked thoughtful. “I need to think about this. However, I advise you to be
careful in telling this to the brothers and the sisters. I’m not sure how many
of them would react to the difference between what
must
be questioned
and what
cannot
.”

“I
agree, and I try to be careful.”

Surprise

Yozef’s
Caernford routine changed on the fourth night after the hetman left. The second
and third nights, Yozef had eaten with Carnigan at the Galloping Horse Inn. He
had continued the morning meals in his guest quarters, along with working on
getting Norlin to be less formal. On the morning following the fourth night,
Maera passed on from her mother an invitation to eat again at the manor house
the evening before Godsday. It was a small soiree, with a dozen other people in
attendance, including Luwis and Kennrick, along with wives, a couple of the
scholastics more receptive to Yozef, and several others whose names he managed
to keep straight but whose roles in Keelan society he was unsure of.

Yozef
sat opposite Maera and next to her mother, who was at the head of the table in
the hetman’s spot. They retired to the parlor after dinner to be entertained by
the four Keelan daughters, singing and playing a variety of stringed
instruments. Maera’s looked and sounded something like a skinny cello, and he
could pick out her voice from her sisters’. The quartet wasn’t always on key,
but the melodies were distinct, and guest sing-along was obviously part of the
custom. Various guests contributed songs before Mared grabbed Yozef’s hand and
pulled him from his seat.

“Ser
Kolsko, you must know songs from your homeland. Sing one for us. Please,
please.”

He
became everyone’s focus of attention, including Mared’s pleading voice and
Maera’s eyes. Yozef reluctantly stood by his chair. His first frivolous thought
was the English version “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places,” but Maera’s frown
warned she was worried about the same. She’d heard the Caedelli version at the
Snarling Graeko. He settled on something safe, where he knew several verses.

“This
song is about the love of my people for their country,” and he proceeded with a
credible version of “American the Beautiful.” The audience listened, not
understanding the English words but sensing the essence of the song. Finished,
he sat to respectful tapping of feet and verbal appreciations.

The
entertainment session was followed by serving one of Yozef’s new distilled
whiskeys and biscotti-like sweets. The drink was not to his taste, and the other
guests’ opinions differed. Still, he received multiple congratulations and
thanks for the new libation. Although everyone was polite, he was conscious of
curious stares during the evening.

As
the gathering ended, Yozef was taking his leave from the hostess when she
changed his routine.

“Ser
Kolsko, may I call you Yozef, if it’s not impolite among your people?”

“Not
at all. Our customs are that first names are reciprocated. Would it be allowed
to call the hetman’s wife by her first name?”

“It
is if
she
says it is. There. It’s settled. You’re Yozef, and I’m Breda.
That’s better. Now that we’re friendlier, I see no reason you should eat your
meals either alone in the cottage or at the inn in Caernford, unless you prefer
it. Please consider this an invitation to eat morning and evening meals with us
here in the manor house.”

For
the next three days, he ate with the Keelan women twice a day. He noticed the younger
daughters acting conspiratorially at the first morning meal, and Mared later
told him her parents normally ate that meal alone, as their personal time
together.

Ceinwyn,
the next oldest daughter, remained initially aloof, then suddenly thawed the
second morning and thereafter. The two younger daughters, Anid and Mared, took
it upon themselves to further educate Yozef in Caedelli customs and idioms. They
provided many a laugh, as they explained local idioms, and he in turn explained
a few of those from America.  While neither “happy as a clam” or “blast from
the past” translated, “foot in the door,” “if you can’t stand the heat, get out
of the kitchen,” and “smoke and mirrors” were favorably received. In contrast,
he didn’t understand why “putting the horse on the roof” was so funny and had
to wait for Carnigan to explain why “cold soup and sausage,” mentioned by Anid,
brought on a reprimand from Breda and a blush from Maera.

Yozef’s
last three days before Culich’s return were filled with more scholastics
meetings, a final trip to the St. Tomo’s library to prioritize readings to be
translated, and excursions to Caernford and the surroundings. A common thread those
days was the ever-present Maera. On the second to last day before the hetman
returned, they walked from St. Tomo’s library across the cobblestone courtyard to
their waiting carriage, when Maera offered to show him a panoramic view of Caernford
from a ridgeline to the east.

“It’s
one of my favorite places, and I haven’t been there for many months.”

“Sounds
nice,” Yozef said. “When would be the best time of day for the view?”

“Mid-day
is best, or early afternoon is when the sun gives the best light.” Maera looked
away, and he caught a change in the tone of her voice. “We might also take a
basket and have one of your ‘picnics’ while we’re there.”

Yozef
stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of a cobblestone, as his attention
diverted to her words. It was the first time she’d mentioned that day. He’d intended
to bring up the subject several times, yet always hesitated.

“Why
. . . yes. That would be nice,” was all he managed to say.

They
met the next mid-morning in front of the manor, and she drove a small dray
pulled by a gentle gray gelding up a winding road to the hilltop about three
switchbacking miles from the manor. As promised, the view was panoramic.
Although only fifteen hundred feet above the valley floor, there were no
obscuring hills or trees. They could see ten miles north and south and four
miles straight across to the western hills.  They stopped several times for
views and Maera’s verbal travelogue but didn’t linger, since she cautioned the
weather was changeable at the top, which proved prescient. When they arrived at
an open overlook near mid-day, a wind came over a higher ridgeline to the east,
picking up the still air. They pulled up behind a screen of trees, shielded from
the rising wind, yet still having a clear view down the valley.

Maera
was tense. She had chewed over all thoughts, feelings, advantages, and
disadvantages for several sixdays before Yozef came to Caernford and even more
so after his arrival, and she’d talked with her mother. She argued endlessly
with herself and finally had to console herself that she wasn’t certain, though
what in life was? She could spend eternity debating with herself all of the
reasons marrying Yozef was a good idea and all of the reasons it wasn’t.

She
finally decided this was the day, if she was to go forward. They had received a
semaphore message that her father would be home the next day, and Yozef was
certain to leave a day or two later.

“As
I told you, Yozef, the weather up here can change quickly. I know it’s not
quite time for mid-day meal, but perhaps we should eat, in case the weather forces
an early return to the manor.”

“Sounds
fine. We can set everything out and then eat at leisure. If the weather worsens,
we can pack up and still haven eaten.”

He
started to get the basket from the wagon. Maera beat him to it, moved quickly
to a flat area, and pulled out a cloth to eat on. There was still time to
change her mind and say nothing. Focusing on the basket contents gave her more
moments to dither.

“Here,
let me help you.”

Maera
found herself irritated at him for offering to help, since she was into delaying.

You
ninny
,
she chastised herself.
Here he is making an offer to help and you’re annoyed
.

She
ignored how cold her hands were as they set out the meal. Yozef noticed when their
hands casually touched while exchanging a woven basket holding bread.

“Are
you cold, Maera? Do you need something warmer from the dray?”

Oh,
God. I’m nervous. No, more than nervous. Afraid. That he might say no. Afraid
he might say yes. Am I going to back out now and say nothing?

He
waited, concerned when she didn’t answer immediately. It was the expression on
his face that brought back to mind all of the reasons to go forward.

“Yozef,
do you still think of your home and family?”

“Of
course. I always will.”

“If
you had the opportunity, would you leave Caedellium and go back?”

“That’s
a difficult question. Although America
was
my home, I’ve been making a different
life here for two years. I suppose it’s a sign of how much I feel the ties I
have here that it would be a difficult decision. However, I don’t believe there
will ever be a choice, since I see no possibility I’ll return to America. I’m
here on Caedellium, and this is where any future I have will be lived.”

She
heard a trace of regret in his voice and resignation.

“What
do you see as your future life here? You have all of your enterprises, but what
else? Are those enough? Will you stay in Keelan or someday move to a different
province? Have a family at some point?”

Yozef
sat back and regarded her. Her manner and questions made it clear there was a
serious conversation underway; he just didn’t know what the topic was yet.

“As
for keeping busy, yes, there’s enough here to keep me busy for the rest of my
life.” There was a wryness to the statement, as if there was more to the answer
than explicit in the words.

“Moving
from Keelan? I doubt it. I’m established in Abersford. I know the people, have
friends, and expect to be spending the rest of my life there.”

“And
someday having a wife and children?”

He
didn’t answer right away, busying himself with laying out the basket contents.

Did
that question bother him? I wonder if he’s aware everyone knows he’s the father
of Bronwyn’s child?

It
was information she’d learned by the end of her first sixday at St. Sidryn’s.

“I
suppose so,” Yozef said. “When I think of all of these questions, I wonder
about the Narthani and what will happen. Bringing children into an uncertain
future is always something to carefully consider.”

“Isn’t
that
always
the case? Children are a commitment to
create
a
future,” Maera said, looking serene and assured for the first time that day.

“Yes,”
said Yozef, “although for a thoughtful person, one who recognizes the
uncertainties I’m afraid Caedellium faces, it takes a brave person to commit to
that future.”

She
agreed with his answer, but she knew she was only delaying. More preliminary
questions arrayed themselves in her mind, though none that needed to be asked
or answered.

This
is it. Time to quit asking questions, or, as Filtin says is one of Yozef’s
favorite expressions, “Shit or get off the pot.”

She
took a deep breath, her pulse racing. Her hands were cold, her throat dry. She
swallowed. Twice.

“Yozef,
I like you, and I believe you like me. I know I’m more comfortable around you
than anyone else in my life, except for Mother and Anarynd. Being the hetman’s
eldest daughter, and of a hetman with no sons, brings expectations and
responsibilities. One of the most important is to produce heirs for the family
and clan. Yozef . . . I would be interested in marrying you and having those
heirs.”

Oh,
Merciful God,
she
thought, cringing,
if that wasn’t the most pathetic offer of marriage in the
history of Caedellium, I hate to think what the worst was! Like I was
explaining a logical reason for choosing wine or beer to go with evening meal!

Yozef
stared at her, his face blank. Seconds passed.

He’s
not interested. He’s thinking of a way to tell me politely!

“Well,”
he said finally. “
That
was unexpected.”

More
seconds passed.

Well,
what’s your answer?!
part of her wanted to yell. Once having blurted out the proposal, she wanted it
settled—yes or no.

Yozef
was truthful when he said her offer of marriage was unexpected. Not that the
thought hadn’t occurred to him in passing, but the uncertainties, given her
status, his status, and how either of them felt about the other had all weighed
against his giving it serious consideration. Everything now changed, and his
mind raced through implications and complications and delved quickly into how
he felt about her.

Did
he want to be married to her? She was attractive enough, though not a beauty.
Smart as a whip, maybe more so than himself, even with whatever the Watchers
did to him. She’d said she was comfortable around him. While that was not a
dying declaration of love, maybe it was at least as important.

 Did
he love her? He couldn’t say he could utter the words and honestly know he meant
them. But he liked her and was as comfortable with her as she evidently was with
him—or as comfortable as he was liable to be when he couldn’t tell all of the
truth about who he really was and how he’d gotten to Anyar.