The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (29 page)

Yozef
tempered Maera’s enthusiasm to expand rapidly, cautioning they needed to
recruit carefully. At the same time, he contracted for new structures to house
the university. This time the workers came from Caernford, Dyfeld Filtin being
too busy for a project this size. It would take many months to finish the
buildings, and recruitment would take even longer, but establishing the first
university on Caedellium had begun.

Children

Yozef
wasn’t completely comfortable that Maera’s diligence in the bedroom often
seemed too much a duty. When he had such reservations, he usually chided
himself. The marriage was new, Maera had been inexperienced, and he knew she
took “duties” seriously. While he didn’t know if she felt pleased by their
couplings, he perceived that she was relaxing more, and there were worse things
than a wife willing to have sex every night. Given Maera’s dedication to duty
and the lack of birth control, the consequences were inevitable.

Yozef
got the news one evening.

“I
saw the Mertons today,” Yozef said, after Elian had served the evening meal and
left. “They stopped at the shops so I could see the baby and hold him for a
while. I must confess, it feels a little strange for me to have a son and not
see him regularly. I suppose that will change if we have a child.”

“It’s
no longer an ‘if,’ husband,” said Maera.

Her
tone was composed, but he’d swear her eyes and mouth attempted to hide elation.
He stared, his mind recognizing that she was telling him something.

“Uh
. . . does that mean . . . ?”

“I
believe so. I’ve missed my monthly bleeding and noticed my breasts are more tender.
While it’s too early to be positive, I’m confident I’m with child.”

She
took another bite of beef roast and, while chewing, broke off a piece of dark
bread and lathered it with butter, only then sneaking a look at him.

Well,
I gave him the news. Is he going to be pleased? What will he say? Maybe he
doesn’t want children right now. Maybe I’m a total ninny!

Other
thoughts were going through Yozef’s head.

Well,
I knew it was going to happen. She’s certainly been dutiful enough to increase
the odds of it. One child here and now another on the way. Good lord! How do I
feel? Ambivalent. for sure. Thinking about the possibility of children and the
reality aren’t the same.

Maera’s
expression had become tense. He wasn’t saying anything.

Yozef
noticed.
Hell, no matter if I’m ambivalent, it’s a fact, and Maera
Kolsko-Keelan, Scourge of the Unwary or not, needs to be reassured
.

He
pushed his chair back, went around the table to her, took her hand, and pulled
her to her feet to envelop her in a tight embrace.

“What
wonderful news, Maera. It was just so sudden to find not only that Bronwyn’s
child was here, but now the news you’re pregnant.” He kissed her deeply and
held her against him.

She
sighed and hugged back. Husband or not, more thoughtful than most Caedelli men
or not, gently respectful and affectionate to her or not, there was always the
tinge of uncertainty about what he would do or say next.

They
resumed the meal, Maera talking about how they needed to further expand the
house now that children were really on the way, getting word to her family, how
the good news would be welcome throughout the province, how she would need some
new clothes once she began to swell, and on and on. 

Yozef
responded when it seemed appropriate, although his thoughts were elsewhere: How
could they bring children into this world with all of the uncertainties about
what the future might hold for Caedellium? How would his life change now that
he would be a father twice over? How would Maera adjust her life when there was
an infant to care for? Did high-caste Keelan women have daycare or wet nurses? Did
Caedelli custom not expect sexual relations during pregnancy? Of those five, the
first was unknowable, the next two would only be answered with time, the fourth
Maera would handle, and the fifth a pregnant wife would answer later that
evening.

Top
Secrets

One
troublesome issue hovered over the first months of their marriage: Maera’s inveterate
inquisitiveness. Keeping his background story straight for causal encounters or
even friends not overly curious, such as Carnigan and Cadwulf, or those who
chose not to pry was one thing. Keeping everything secret from a wife,
especially one like Maera, proved something else. Inconsistencies that others
might have passed off, she remembered and probed further.

He
hadn’t appreciated how hard it would be. The first few times, he tried covering
his lapses as momentary slips of the tongue or the mind. A critical mistake was
when he blamed her faulty memory. The set of her mouth and the toss of her head
expressed her rejection of that possibility. For two sixdays, they danced
around the issue. She quit hinting one day, as they walked home from Abersford.
It was an hour before sunset. The onshore wind tugged at their clothing with a
chill preceding dark clouds on the southern horizon.

The
words came without preamble. “You’re hiding too much, Yozef,” she asserted.

He
didn’t know what to say. This moment had been anticipated, with no escape plan
formulated. They walked several hundred more yards without speaking. At a loss about
what to do, he opted to delay.

“Maera,
there are things I need to say to you, but right now I need time to think. Can
we talk about this later?”

“Of
course, husband.”

The
last word was laced with insinuations of obligations.

No
further word on the matter was mentioned again for several days. Their routine
continued as before, until ...

Yozef’s
gasps of pleasure accompanied several final thrusts, and he let his head sag
next to Maera’s on the bed, his weight supported by arms and knees, their
bodies pressed together. His breathing and heart rate slowed, as he stroked the
opposite side of her head, her arms under his and her hands firm on his
shoulders. He started to withdraw, but her arms slipped around his back, and
her legs clutched at the backs of his, pinning him to her. He raised his head
to look into her impassive face.

“What?”

“I
haven’t pressed you these last few days, Yozef, but with a child coming, I
think you’ve had time to think.”

“Think?”
he said in a futile attempt to feign ignorance.

“About
what you’re hiding from me.”

Christ!
Talk about being ambushed. And not to mention the attempt to lay a guilt trip
on me. Right after sex and knowing she’s pregnant.

She
said nothing more but held him tight. He could have moved away, but, still
connected as they were, his intuition told him this might be the best time,
even if the position was unorthodox.

He
kept stroking the side of her head and hair. “You’re right. There are things
that I’ve kept secret. Not because I wanted to, but because I thought it best.”

“So
you don’t trust me enough.”

He
stared firmly into her eyes, their faces inches apart. “I trust you more than
anyone I know, Maera. However, there are things I can’t tell
anyone
right now, no matter how much I want to. Maybe someday, and if that day comes
and there’s only one person I can tell, it will be you. I know that’s not the
answers you wanted, and I wish more than you can know that it was different,
but it’s not. All I can ask is that you trust me.”

She
was silent for a minute, still clutching him, her eyes searching his face in
the candlelight. Finally, she sighed, and her face softened. “You’re right,
it’s not the answers I wanted, but God tells us in the
Word
not to
expect answers to all our questions. While I won’t pretend it doesn’t bother
me, it’s something I believe I can live with.” Her grip eased, her hands rubbed
his back, and her heels ran along the backs of his thighs. “I don’t pretend to
understand you. Still, as different as you sometimes seem, I know you’re honest
and caring.

“You’re
still the mysterious Yozef Kolsko, even if people in Abersford and St. Sidryn’s
are accustomed to you. I suppose I have to accept there will always be things I
don’t understand. The
Word
also says a person is judged by his deeds,
and you’ve given me no reason to judge you harshly.”

Yozef
sighed with relief.
I’m going to get away with it.

“My
people say, ‘You know the tree by its fruit.’”

Maera
laughed and gave him a playful tap on the cheek. “There you go again. Just when
I’m being noble and understanding, you go and pull a phrase or a piece of
knowledge out of the air.”

“I’m
sorry, I—”

She
laughed again. “No! Don’t apologize. It makes me feel like I’ve done something
wrong and makes me wonder if I should have reacted differently.”

“You
react as comes naturally to you, Maera. All you have to do is be yourself.
Maera Kolsko-Keelan is the only person I want you to be.”

“Now
you’re trying to flatter me. It’s working, but I’m afraid we’ll have to
uncouple. My legs are starting to cramp.”

Yozef
rolled to one side, keeping one arm under Maera. She stretched her legs, then
turned to him, and they embraced, legs intertwined.

“I’ll
try to be patient, but this doesn’t mean I’m not going to stay curious.” She
poked him in the abdomen with a finger. “There isn’t
anything
you can
tell me?”

“You
don’t find a contradiction in telling me you’ll try to be patient and then in
the next breath asking a question?”

“Just
this once?”

“All
right, but I’m serious, Maera. This will be the last time until the day comes when
I believe I can tell you more.”

She
nodded eagerly.

“The
secrets have to do with where my home was and how I got here. They have nothing
to do with any intentions for anything except the best for Caedellium and its
people. I know that doesn’t tell you anything you didn’t already suspect, but
that’s the best I do.”

She
hugged him tighter. “One thing to remember, Yozef, you
have
a home. It’s
here with me, wherever we are, be it here in Abersford, in this house, in bed
with me, or wherever we’re together.”

Memas
Erdelin

He
pushed his horse up the inclined road, then reined in only momentarily before
spurring again down into a wide valley. The twenty-man escort strove to keep up
with their commander, who was a superb horseman and relished long, punishing
rides. They would change exhausted horses in another six miles and continue to
Hanslow, the Eywell Province capital. His men would have preferred making the
sixty-mile trip from Preddi City in two days, but Erdelin wanted to get back to
his headquarters as soon as possible. The Eywellese leaders had orders to meet
with him in Hanslow at sundown.

As military commander of the Eywell Province, Colonel Memas
Erdelin’s main responsibility was maintaining Narthani control over the
Eywellese Clan, the instrument of which were the three thousand troops under
his command. In addition, he had the duty of training the Eywellese to serve as
auxiliaries for the coming campaign against the other clans. The Eywellese
would carry out large-scale, fast-moving raids and later act as light-cavalry
screens and scouts for the main Narthani forces.  Keeping control of the
Eywellese was frustrating, because they had minimal concepts of coordinated
actions in the field and chaffed at following an operation plan’s details. He
thought perhaps half of their leaders, particularly the hetman, had some level
of understanding; the other half were hopeless, including the hetman’s eldest
son.

The staff meeting in Preddi City had started before sunup and was
the final session before the Eywellese carried out the first large-scale
destructive raid into Moreland. He and Nuthrat Metan, his counterpart in the
Selfcell Province, had been the main presenters at today’s meeting. Metan’s
assignment was to feint at the Stentese north of Selfcell and carry out raids
into the northern border with Moreland. Erdelin’s assignment was to direct
similar actions to the central and southern parts of their border with
Moreland, plus feints toward Keelan and Gwillamer provinces in the south. The
main action was also his responsibility, an aggressive 450-man raid on Moreland
towns near the Eywell border.

After Erdelin and Metan gave their reports, the other Narthani
leaders needed less time to summarize their parts in the operation: Colonel
Erkan Ketin as the headquarters commander in charge of Preddi Province, plus
supply and training issues concerning all of the 12,000 Narthani troops on Caedellium;
Admiral Morefred Kalcan, who would keep the coastal clans’ attention with
sporadic coastal raids and repeated Narthani ship sightings all along the
island’s coasts; Assessor Sadek Hizer, on the latest intelligence on Moreland;
and High Prelate Mamduk Balcan,  reminding all of the others about the
importance of converting the Caedelli to the worship of Narth. Although Erdelin
thought the idea of any god was for deluded minds, Balcan had authority over
religious matters, and even high-ranking military leaders had to be careful.

While General Akuyun commanded the mission on Caedellium,
Brigadier Zulfa was the field commander and Erdelin’s direct superior.
Privately, Erdelin detested Zulfa and his perceived overweening pride at his descent
from a higher caste tribe than Erdelin’s. Even worse, Erdelin acknowledged that
Zulfa was sufficiently competent to have Akuyun’s approval. Thus, Erdelin
tolerated Zulfa and strove to carry out his assignments in an exemplary manner.
There was always the chance Zulfa would befall some misfortune and Erdelin
could compete with Ketin and Metan for Zulfa’s position. Such misfortunes were
not uncommonly arranged by subordinates in the Narthani army, but the
perpetrator had better be successful and clever. Erdelin wouldn’t risk such a
venture with Akuyun in overall command; the general wasn’t a commander to be
taken lightly.

How Commander Akuyun put up with coordinating the various demands
on his role never ceased to amaze Erdelin. Somehow the meetings always ended
with all parties thinking their input had been heard and acted on, even if it
hadn’t happened. Akuyun was a master at this, and Erdelin, if he had believed
in Narth, would have given offerings in thanks for having Akuyun as the mission
commander, especially after having served under far worse.

Still, listening to Zulfa, Balcan, and the others for too much of
the three-hour meeting had put him on edge. He was grateful for the hard ride
to get his mind ready for the meeting later with the Eywellese.

Just
Follow the Plan

Six
hours later, Erdelin went over the Moreland raid plan with Brander Eywell, the
Eywell hetman, his two sons, and several of his boyermen. They had reviewed the
plan enough times to annoy the Eywellese, who assumed the Narthani didn’t think
them smart enough to remember the details, which was close to the truth.
Erdelin was thankful the hetman himself would lead the raid, instead of the
older son, an arrogant and stupid argument against oldest sons as automatic
heirs to titles and responsibilities.

“Once
again, Hetman,” asserted Erdelin, “the raid needs to move fast and burn as much
as possible. We want to test the Morelanders’ speed of response to the raid
without getting into any significant fights with them. Move through the
countryside, burn as you move, and keep moving. The exceptions are the three
towns of . . . ,” Erdelin checked the map on the table they stood around,
“Allenford, Lanwith, and Anglin. Don’t spend more time at each town than
necessary to burn it to the ground. Kill whomever you find, and be sure to keep
scouts out to alert for any large Moreland forces.

“Those
three towns are yours to loot. Take some of the younger women and smaller
valuables, but only what time and speed of movement allow. Given the pace
you’ve assured me you and your men can move, the entire raid should end by the
evening of the second day. Are there any final questions?”

“No,
Colonel Erdelin, I think we’ve gone over the plan enough times,” said the
Eywell hetman, with more than a little sarcasm in his heavily accented voice.
Many of the Eywellese and the Selfcellese spoke passable Narthani after years
of association, although most, including the hetman, had trouble forcing their
native open and soft Caedelli into the guttural sounds of Narthani. The accent
reminded Erdelin of Narthani children just learning to speak properly and
reinforced the impression of the islanders’ limited mental abilities.

“We
don’t believe the Morelanders will risk coming after you into your own
territory, but just in case, I’m keeping a thousand of my men in Hanslow on
alert to move toward the border, along with the five hundred men you have on
standby.”

After
the Eywellese left to return to their staging encampment for the raid, Erdelin spoke
with Captain Tunak, the Narthani officer assigned to accompany the Eywellese.

“Captain,
your assignment on this raid doesn’t include taking direct part in the action—
unless absolutely necessary. You’re to observe both the Eywellese and the Morelanders
as my eyes for a detailed account of the progress and results. You’ll have
fifty men with you, more for your protection than to be used against the
Morelanders. The four hundred Eywellese should be more than enough for the raid,
assuming they follow directions. Your other assignment is to remind the hetman
what the objectives are and what they are not to do. You won’t have overall
command, as much as I wish you did, but try to keep the islanders from totally
screwing up the plan.”

Captain
Tunak didn’t look happy, nor did Erdelin blame him. The sooner they pacified
the entire island, the sooner they could quit pretending any islander was an
ally instead of the vassal they should be.

The
raid was staged from Parthmal, a garrison town near the Moreland border, and
left an hour before dawn the next morning. Captain Tunak and his fifty men
followed the Eywellese party.

Crossing
into Moreland

The
raiding party crossed the border into Moreland Province as the sun first peeked
from behind the western hills. The three targeted towns all lay within twelve
to twenty miles of the border, and the raid would parallel that border and then
duck back into Eywell territory after the third town.

A
forward party of 300 horsemen pushed ahead over flat to rolling terrain to the
outskirts of Allenford, twelve miles from the border. No scouts screened ahead
to avoid alerting locals before the main body fell upon the town. Captain Tunak
and 25 Narthani accompanied the main party. The remaining 100 Eywellese, 25
Narthani, 50 pack horses, and 5 wagons followed. Although this split the party,
the roads and the terrain were clear enough that by the time the trailing group
caught up, the sack of the town should be complete or nearly so. They would
appropriate other wagons as needed and then move on to the next town. It was
during the initial assault on Allenford when the plan started to unravel. A
chance musket ball hit Brandor Eywell, a glancing strike along his side. While
not immediately critical, it broke a rib, which threatened to puncture a lung.
Brandor’s two sons and Captain Tunak stood by when the medicants told the
hetman he couldn’t continue.

Brandor
gasped from pain when two men helped him rise to a sitting position. “Biltin,
the medicants say I can’t continue, and I’m afraid I have to agree. Plus,
there’s the chance I might slow the rest of you down if I can’t keep up. You’ll
have to continue without me.”

Biltin
Eywell smiled.
A chance to lead for most of the raid!
“Yes, Father. I
can do it. Let the medicants take care of you.”

“Remember
the plan and stick to it. No changing anything. Listen to the senior men with
you. They have experience and are along on the raid because of that. You must
command but listen to them!”

Captain
Tunak was anxious. This wasn’t a contingency covered with him by Colonel
Erdelin. He knew the colonel thought the father marginally reliable and didn’t
trust the sons. If this had happened before they reached Allensford, Tunak
might have insisted they abort the raid. Now, they were committed . . . or were
they? The Morelanders didn’t know the original plan, so the Eywelleses could
finish sacking Allenford and return, having partly completed the objectives.
After weighing the factors and remembering Erdelin’s reservations about the
son, he made a decision and hoped his superior would later approve.

“Hetman
Eywell, it would be best to finish here in Allensford and return to Eywell
territory. The raid will have successfully shocked the Morelanders, so hitting
the other two towns is not an absolute necessity.”

Biltin
Eywell flushed at the implied insult—that with the hetman incapacitated, he
wasn’t trusted to complete the raid. “Hetman Eywell’s already decided,” he bit
off, scowling at the Narthani officer.

The
hetman also scowled, at his son. He read into the Narthani’s suggestion a lack
of confidence in the son, one the hetman himself shared at times. What if
Biltin showed himself incompetent? He didn’t want the Narthani to lose
confidence in the entire clan, due to actions of any one member, even if that
person was his presumed heir. Yet this was their first major opportunity to
strike at the hated Morelanders. For years, Brandor had pressed for stronger
action against both Moreland and Keelan, but the Narthani had constrained them.
He knew the Narthani didn’t keep him fully informed of their plans, so who knew
when another such opportunity would arise to pay back past indignities?

“No,”
he said finally, giving his son a stern look. “The raid will continue as
planned.”

Tunak
had no further options. He didn’t command the raid, and his fifty men couldn’t
force four hundred Eywellese to retire once their hetman decided to continue.

“As
you wish, Hetman,” Tunak said. “As long as the operation is carried out as
ordered by Colonel Erdelin.” The last words were accompanied by a look straight
at the son.

The
sack of Allensford was completed, while the decision was made to continue under
Biltin Eywell’s command. Hetman Eywell returned to Hanslow in a wagon with a 25-man
escort. In two hours, the Eywellese burned the entire town, killed more than 300
of its citizens, took 31 women prisoners, and filled 3 wagons with valuables. By
mid-morning they were on the move again, this time toward Lanwith, the next
target and twenty miles distant.

Lanwith

It
was a typical day for the 420 citizens of Lanwith, along with another 70
Morelanders living nearby or in town on various types of business. The earlier
showers had passed, and clear skies to the southeast promised a sunny day.

Shopkeepers
talked to customers, the abbey’s only medicant tended a series of citizens with
various complaints, and the abbey’s school had been in session for more than
three hours. A stern seventy-year-old Brother Skanston ruled the fifteen boys
attending. Brother Skanston had tried in vain for decades to convince more of
the boys’ families to send their sons for education and attempted equally in
vain to get permission for a few of the girls. Girls were a rarity in Moreland
schools. He knew other clans, such as Keelan and Stent, paid more attention to
education, but the Moreland Clan didn’t value time spent away from farm, shop,
and home.