The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (24 page)

“I’m
sorry,” said Vortig, “but the Keelan half will have to be abandoned. If we’re
going to cede the land from the border to here, it has to include the Keelan
half of Dornfeld. All defenses will have to be on the Gwillamer side.”

“Abandon
half of Dornfeld to the Narthani?” said the distressed boyerman.

“If
they do come, I’m afraid so, and we’ll have to burn the Keelan half to prevent
the Narthani from hiding in it and blocking our fields of fire.”

Culich
put a hand on Sarnin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Duwid, you have my word that
when all this is over, we’ll rebuild Dornfeld better than before.”

Although
not happy, Sarnin was reassured.

A
cough from behind caught Culich’s attention, and he turned to see Yozef looking
at him. “You have another thought, Yozef?”

“Well
. . . why not take the town apart and move it to this side of the border? Same
with the other villages. If you start immediately, there should be time to move
every building and animal, every piece of furnishing, and other possessions
into Gwillamer. Take anything of any value and burn the rest. Leave nothing
behind for the Narthani to use.”

“If
we cede land up to Dornfeld, then we’ll have to evacuate all of our people,
either through the pass into Keelan proper or into Gwillamer,” Luwis said, “and
we should start immediately.”

“We’ll
take them,” stated Cadoc. “It’s the least we can do if you’re willing to give
up your land.”

“Actually,”
said Culich grimly, “we’re not
giving up
our land, we’re just
renting
it to the Narthani.”

“Renting?”
questioned Cirwyn.

Luwis’s
mouth curved into a grin, but his tone was anything but amused. “I think Hetman
Keelan means that the Narthani may occupy Keelan land for a time, but will find
the coin they have to pay made it a bad contract.”

Cadoc’s
expression matched Luwis’s. “We’ll start making arrangements for your people
immediately. I don’t think my people will have any hesitation in taking them in,
considering yours are giving up their homes for a time and will stand with us
if the Narthani come. We’ll start what Yozef suggests and take down every
building on the Keelan side and put it back together on Gwillamer land.

 “We’ll
also need to improve the defenses from here to the mountains. At this point,
it’s only two miles before you reach so many cataracts and falls that only a
few dozen men could prevent hundreds from crossing. If we’re planning on
stopping them at the Gwillamer-Keelan border, then we need to make those two
miles even more defendable.”

One
Gwillamese looked confused. “Hetman, I agree that we can improve the defenses
here, but if we’re going to hold against a major invasion, do we have enough
men for that purpose and to still defend against seaborne raids, in addition to
helping Moreland?”

“We
must do what we must,” answered Cadoc, the Gwillamer hetman, looking at Culich.
“If your man’s reasoning is correct, at some point the Narthani are going to
move on Moreland, who can’t hold their province by themselves. I assume that
the Tri-Clan Alliance intends on supporting Moreland. I think I agree that if
Moreland falls, all of Caedellium may eventually fall. Perhaps it might take
years, but it will happen. They have to be stopped at Moreland. Gwillamer will
commit as many forces as we can to help, consistent with holding this position
at Dornfeld and protecting our coastal cities against raids.”

“And
Keelan will hold the Dillagon Pass,” affirmed Culich, “and send another two
hundred men here to Dornfeld. That’s all Keelan dare send at this time. If we
hurry with the defenses, the Narthani and the Eywell will run up against a wall
not easily breached, and that gives us time to send more help before the situation
here becomes dire.”

The
details of the defense and evacuation of the Dornfeld district were left to
Boyerman Sarnin and Hetman Gwillamer. Culich and Cadoc clasped forearms, and
the Keelan party was on the road back toward the Dillagon Pass within the hour.

Culich
Gives Approval

The
return trip to Caernford was uneventful. Culich spoke little to Yozef, who
wondered whether the hetman’s opinion of him had changed. Was Culich pissed at him?
Had he said too much at the hetman meeting? For that matter, what exactly
did
he say?

There
were none of the probing questions about Yozef’s past or his opinions about
anything. Yozef spent most of the trip riding on top with Carnigan and the
driver. The pace was as fast as on the way to Dornfeld, stopping only to luxuriate
in a meal and six hours of sleep at the border of the Nylamir and Wycoff districts.

The
next day they rolled into Caernford with Yozef praying never again to ride in a
carriage as long as he lived. Three hundred miles over dirt and rock roads were
punishment enough for whatever transgression he had committed. The weather had
deepened the last few hours, and a steady rain turned roads to slush and seeped
into their clothing. They were tired, damp, and exhausted, yet their triumphal
arrival was met by . . . no one. No word of their imminent return had reached
the manor. All of the hetman’s family members were elsewhere.

Culich
and Luwis went into the manor. Yozef, not being invited to join them, retired
to the guest cottage, kicked off his boots, pulled a blanket up to his chin,
and promptly fell asleep. Four hours later, he awoke to the ubiquitous knocking
of Norlin, who informed him that evening meal at the manor would be in one hour,
and did Yozef want to bathe before the meal? Yozef decided on the bath,
compared to the alternative of sharing the accumulated aromas of the trip with
the Keelan females. He suspected his acquiescence was merely a formality, since
a tub of hot water waited in the cottage’s attached bathing room.

Yozef’s
first sight of Maera was when Mared ushered him into the dining room. The last
of the Keelans was sitting down, including Maera, wearing a form-fitting green
gown again, this time a lighter shade of green and with a green ribbon of the
same material tying back her hair. In addition, she wore a questioning look,
and Yozef interpreted a slight twitch of her shoulders as,
“Well, what
happened on the trip and is the marriage on?”

Yozef
twitched back with shoulder and hands, trying to reply,
“I have no fucking
clue.”

The
meal started with the traditional thanks and then on to courses, this evening a
hearty meat and barley soup, a beef roast with red carrot-like sections, beets,
and the ubiquitous heavy, dark bread and butter. Cold steins of beer also
appeared.

How
do
they do that
?

Yozef
had often asked himself that question since the first time with Carnigan at the
abbey and still had no answer.

Culich
was in a cheerful mood. He deflected talk of the trip to Dornfeld and queried
the three younger daughters on their activities, then engaged in more talk
about what had transpired in Caernford the last few days: the weather, Mared
getting into a fight at the scholasticum, Ceinwyn hinting about a new dress for
a coming festival, and a major topic—a litter from one of the Keelan dogs. Half
of the meal passed before Breda stopped Culich from torturing Maera and Yozef.

“Now
that we’ve gotten all the important items out of the way, Hetman Keelan has
some other news,” Breda said dryly.

All
other conversation stopped, and everyone rotated toward the head of the table. 

Culich
smiled amusedly. “Oh yes, that other matter. Maera, Yozef, after carefully
considering the possibility of your marriage, I’ve decided it’s both acceptable
and appropriate for the two of you. Therefore, I give my permission and blessing.”

“Yes!”
Mared shouted, closely followed by an exclamation from Anid and even positive
sounds from Ceinwyn, possibly because she saw her chances of marriage improved
with the older sister out of the way.

“Congratulations,
my dears,” said a smiling Breda. “I predict it’ll be a good marriage.”

“Thank
you, Father,” said Maera, her voice catching slightly on the words.

My
God! I’m committed now
, roared through her mind in panic.

The
moment faded quickly, as her natural inclination to plan and be orderly set in.
When to schedule the wedding? How big? Who to invite or, moreover, who
not
to invite?

Yozef
had a similar moment of panic.

My
God! I’m committed now!

That
thought also faded when he saw Maera giving him sideways glances with a smile
at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes,
thank you, Hetman Keelan. I promise to try my best to be a good husband to a
wonderful woman.”

“I
certainly hope you appreciate how lucky you’ll be with a smart and beautiful
wife,” Culich said sternly. “She takes after her mother.”

“Yes,
Hetman,” said Yozef, for the moment forgetting to be respectful, “she
is
lucky that’s who she takes after.”

Whoops
, thought Yozef.

Uh-oh
, thought Breda
and three daughters.

Damn
it, Yozef—things were going so well!
thought Maera.

Culich
looked at Yozef with one raised eyebrow, then roared with laughter. “By
Merciful God, Yozef, I know you’re from another land, but I somehow think
things will be more refreshing with you around.”

More
laughter followed exhalations of relief from the five Keelan females.

“And
as for calling me ‘Hetman Keelan,’ if you’re going to be a family member, you
may start calling me Culich and Maera’s mother Breda, with her permission.”

“Granted
easily,” answered Breda, not bothering to mention she and Yozef were already on
a first-name basis.

Yozef
was oblivious to the rest of the meal and the conversation, looking forward to
getting Maera alone and practicing kissing and feeling her body against him. He
was to be disappointed. As the family rose from the table, Culich escorted
Yozef out the front door, wishing him a restful sleep and warning him that the
women would be into planning mode the next morning.

Maera
and Bronwyn

On
the return trip from Dornfeld, Yozef had struggled with how to tell Maera about
Bronwyn. The next morning, Maera allayed his concern.

“Uh,
Maera, there’s something I need to tell you. Before I met you, there was a
woman from a farm north of Abersford. We . . . uh . . . we, that is . . .”

“You
mean Bronwyn Merton? I met her when she was visiting the medicants at St.
Sidryn’s. She and the baby were developing well, and she was hoping for a boy,
which I understand it was. That was good news.”

“Er
. . . yes, that
was
good news.”

Now
what do I say?

“It’ll
be appropriate for us to pay respects when the baby is named. If we’re in
Abersford at the time, I’ll suggest to Bronwyn that she and her entire family
come to a Godsday service Naming Day as soon as the child is three months.”

“Naming
Day?”

“Well,
yes. You don’t know that a child isn’t given a name until it’s three months
old? So many die before then, but Bronwyn’s new baby is reported healthy, so on
Naming Day it’ll be given its name and can be blessed. That’s the best time for
you to publicly recognize you’re the father.”

“Maera,
I, uh, hadn’t said anything about Bronwyn before, which I should have, but I
wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

She
looked at him quizzically. “How did you think I’d react?”

“I
didn’t know. Angry for me having a child with another woman. Angry at me for
not telling you about it. Hell, I don’t know. Just angry, I guess, for whatever
reason.”

Maera
took Yozef’s words sedately, accustomed by now to his still not understanding
the ways of his adopted home.

“There’s
nothing to be angry about. You bedded with her before we met. It has nothing to
do with us. I’d mind if it had happened
after
we agreed to wed. Bronwyn
told me you said you’d recognize the child and provide for it as necessary, which
I naturally expected from you.”

“Bronwyn
. . . told you . . .?” Yozef managed in a strangled voice.

“Yes,
while I was at St. Sidryn’s. I had a pleasant talk with her after a Godsday
service. They seem like a solid family, and the child will flourish with them.”

“And
it doesn’t matter that I had a child with Bronwyn before you and I do?”

“Why
should it? Bronwyn’s child has no claim on the Keelan family. I’m sure you’ll
be interested in her child, since you fathered him, and that’s appropriate. But
one of
our
sons will be the next Keelan hetman.”

Her
words were spoken as if from a Delphic Oracle: a fact not to be questioned.

Planning

Culich
was correct. With approval for the wedding secured, planning by the women came
to the fore, and the men faded into the background. Long engagements were not
expected on Caedellium. After careful consideration and once a marriage was decided,
the Caedelli saw no reason for unnecessary delay. Yozef had assumed it would be
some months off, an assumption that evaporated when he was told three sixdays
were all that was necessary to make preparations and give those guests not in Caernford
time to make travel plans.

The
next few days Yozef saw little of Maera. She recognized his initial
consternation, but planning with Breda took all of her time. Their few minutes
a day together focused on the “who, what, when, where” of the wedding day.
After two days, Yozef told Maera he saw no obvious reason for him to be in
Caernford for at least a sixday. He proposed he return to Abersford to check on
his various enterprises and make arrangements for an enlargement of his house,
since now there would be two of them living there.

The
statement caught Maera by surprise. Not at the idea of his disappearing for a
sixday, but the reality she would be leaving her family in Caernford for a
different life in Abersford. In her focus on the marriage possibility, she had
ignored what came afterward. She had lived her whole life at Keelan Manor, in
the same set of rooms since she’d moved out of the nursery; had helped raise
her three younger sisters; knew every inch of the manor grounds and most of the
surrounding town and countryside; and knew by name hundreds of citizens in the
area. Though she was not a stranger to Abersford, her experiences there were
fleeting, with the expectations she would return home. Now,
home
would
be with Yozef in Abersford. It took until the next day for her to fully process
her thinking. She still wasn’t comfortable with the move but accepted it as
part of becoming her own woman, wife, and eventual mother, away from the
security of her Caernford family.

Word
Gets Out

When
Yozef and Carnigan arrived back in Abersford, although only four days had
passed since Culich gave permission for the marriage, the news had reached
Abersford and St. Sidryn’s three days previously and was the only topic of
conversation.

The
Keelans gave Yozef letters for the Beynoms—Culich to Sistian, Breda to Diera,
Maera to them both. Since the carriage passed the abbey on the way to Yozef’s
house, they stopped to deliver the correspondence and found themselves caught
in a Caedelli version of a surprise party. Word of their coming had reached the
abbey the previous day, and somehow the organizers of the festivities estimated
to within fifteen minutes when they would arrive. Instead of the quick mail
drop and going on home, Yozef found himself the center of an ongoing
celebration, apparently attended by all of the abbey complex’s staff.

The
first warning sign came as they rolled into the abbey courtyard. A hundred
people or more waited, headed by Sistian and Diera. Yozef groaned. He saw his
bed receding into the near future.

“Yozef!”
exclaimed Diera, as he stepped off the carriage. “We’ve heard the news! Congratulations,
and may you and Maera be happy together.” She hugged him and kissed him on his
cheek.

“Yes,
congratulations indeed,” added a benevolently smiling Abbot Sistian, with a
clap on the shoulder and a shake of his head. “Who but Merciful God would have
thought the wretched creature washed up on our beach two years ago would marry
the hetman’s daughter? Just shows us God has plans for us all, even if we don’t
know it.”

Diera
locked arms with Yozef and pulled him toward the dining hall. “You must be tired
from the all-day trip back, but we’ve arranged a little celebration.”

He
was tired and dusty, his joints ached from the carriage ride, and he was stuck
for the next three hours being congratulated and having food and steins
constantly forced on him.

He
only vaguely remembered Carnigan pouring him into bed later that night and knew
nothing more until he awoke at noon the next day. His first impulse was to
anticipate a headache from the bottomless steins of the previous night. His
first clear thought was,
Where’s the hangover?
Nestled under the covers,
he futilely felt around for that expected consequence. He lay there reviewing
memories since his Anyar arrival. While he wasn’t a particularly heavy drinker,
there had been a few occasions, particularly with Carnigan, when he had over-imbibed.
He also remembered the morning after the first meal at Keelan Manor and the
wine. The headaches then or on other mornings weren’t severe enough to rate as
serious hangovers. He had enough examples from his previous life to know that,
for him, too much alcohol had regretful repercussions. But not here on Anyar?
Was this one of the side effects of whatever the Watchers did to him? If it was,
bless their little green hearts, if they had hearts.