Lady Garia, Baroness of Blackstone, along with Prince Keren, heir to the throne of Palarand, tosses a large stone into a small pond.
Julina provides reports of life in Blackstone. This is her introduction to herself.
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
Blackstone is a small, decaying, high mountain community at the very end of one of the many mostly straight Chivan roads that abound in our country of Palarand. Our nearest ‘real’ town is called Tranidor, some 2 or so days’ journey southwards. The Blackstone River, more of a stream really, dribbles its way westwards out of Blackstone Vale and joins the freshly-born river (also a stream) named the Bray. The waters, joined here and there by other streams from the not-so-frequent canyons that populate the valley walls, then scurry and gurgle their way southwards through the Bray Valley to join the larger Palar River at Tranidor. This river then rushes ever down the Palar Valley, eventually to join a river called, I am told, the Sirrel at a town called Dekarran, which is the capital of our province, North Palarand.
My knowledge of such distant parts is simply by hearsay, having been only twice to Tranidor in my life, both times for a single overnight, both times as a babe in arms. I know of course, from conversations, of the towns down the valley as far as Dekarran; and that there is a wondrous city at the centre of Palarand where everyone is rich and have carefree lives, richer even than any of our Town Councillors!
My name is Julina.
I am a resident of Blackstone, one of a group that can be numbered on two or three hands who are still referred to as ‘children’ despite the counting of our years. I am the eldest of our family, apart from, of course, my Papa. My Mama left us not long after she explained the soon-to-be-expected changes in my body to me. I wonder if she knew somehow that her end was near, she having been trampled by a panicked frayen in the high pasture. A group of dranakh had seen off the threat from a cruising grakh, but not before Mama had been struck by a fleeing frayen, blind in its panic, which then trod on her. I now run the household for us all — Papa, me and my 5 younger siblings - yes I have a full hand of brothers and sisters; as a family, we were blessed with a much lower than normal rate of young children deaths. Mama had taught me some letters (we practiced with chalk sticks on one of the walls of our hut) and had taught me also some of the ‘delights’ ahead for me as a woman in a high mountain township community.
Men have it all so much easier, that’s for certain. A neighbour, who I had many talks with, also had (still has, actually) strong views that we women could be so much different if we could only get a chance.
Chances, however, were things that seemed very few and far between to us as we grew.
Even fewer and with bigger distances between them, when those animals led by Trogan turned up.
A close community like ours has many currents in it, but we all accept that life is hard and we do what we can. Some are open about what they do, whilst some (the Cobbler for example) are slimy and underhand — how they ever had such a nice person as Jasinet, I shall never know.
But Trogan and his thugs made life so much harder and more depressing. Papa’s normal routines were completely disarranged and I had to stay out of sight as much as possible and keep the kids out of trouble. We were trying to hide in plain sight, as it were, and every day that went by, it was more and more difficult.
Papa was then the designated man of the town for inspecting the roadside borders and ditches, and also for reporting which roadmarks need some maintenance. Sometimes, he did the work himself, but normally he would return and arrange a working party. His responsibility was supposed to be as far down the road as the junction with the Chaarn road, a full day’s journey, but Trogan refused to let him leave town on some excuse or another. An excuse that changed every week, it seemed. And the tax demands were crippling everyone, a burden particularly on those whose business was so restricted.
And then came the Lady Garia, our new Baroness, along with Prince Keren, son of our King, no less!
That was quite the entrance!
Mercy me! Now we females KNOW that we can do so much more.
And she brought with her her own scribe! And the scribe herself was a Lady! Lady Merizel. She had had delivered to herself a fantastical new thing they call paper, which is like parchment but so much lighter and easier to use. We discovered that it takes charcoal markers very well. I say we, you have noted. Yes, the Lady Merizel helped me so much; she was (and I fervently hope, still is!) so very, very kind. She even left behind some of her precious paper for those who wish to improve their skills. Master Jepp, the town’s Scribe is going to set up some school here for everyone, not just silly boys.
I have already told Mylady Merizel and Master Jepp that I wish to record my impressions of life around here. They are so supportive — even to the extent of already giving me some of the precious paper. So I am about to embark on a series of word-sketches to help others understand our life here a little better. Something I hope that my children will be able to pass onto their children, and they onto theirs and so on. This will reduce the otherwise inevitable exaggerations and distortions, ensuring a more accurate story is conveyed to future generations.
... ... ...
So that was what I wrote back then. Now I am many years older and have rediscovered my naive scribblings from back then. But I am pleased, as they have indeed fulfilled the ideals with which I started.
This was my dearest wish as I started out on what was to become an astounding and long journey, a life of which I was then totally unaware.
Blackstone has changed out of all recognition nowadays, and when I revisit, I am constantly amazed at not only the developments but also the astounding foresight shown by our Baroness, and the Palarandi royal family. And the ingenious ways in which problems were resolved.
So I have become determined to share those early scribblings with a wider audience.
And I will start with that close neighbour and friend mentioned above; even though she was then more than double my age when I first set this to paper, I was proud to call her ‘friend’.
I trust you will deal with me kindly - I was young and largely untutored when I started ...
Yours in hope,
Julina (of Blackstone)
A long-term Blackstone resident relates her tale
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
The advice I received from a neighbour about growing up, and getting married, was somewhat startling as you will soon read. I have spent bells talking with her, as she seems so different. I often wondered that maybe that’s because she came to us from somewhere near Teldor.
The following is her story in, as far as is possible for a young and untrained girl like myself, her own words - some of which, I should warn you, are rarely used or are local dialect words; like, for instance, kiffen which has the plural form kiffenis. This is a funny little biting thing, smaller than a fikt, and very difficult to see, which leaps prodigious distances considering its size. Where I feel that some word may not be obvious, I have provided a more widely used alternative in the hope of being able to clarify.
So, with no further ado, here is her story … … ...
Some men are like kiffenis. They leap all over you, jab you enthusiastically a few times, then crawl off, leaving you irritable, itchy and swelling in all directions.
I’ve swelled regularly since my marriage to Willen and have four youngsters to show for it. There should have been a hand of them, but something went wrong with the middle pregnancy, quite early on. I didn’t suffer much but it could not have happened at a worse moment. Willen had arranged for his cronies, all of whom think they are the best crossbowmen in all of Anmar entirely, to come and eat their dinner at our house. Being so considerate, he only informed me the evening before and got all snotty when I reminded him that he was the food provider here. When he eventually remembered his responsibilities, the vikhan, which needs a good few bells to prepare and cook, arrived allowing me less than a bell spare. I asked him why the animal smelled so strongly of the ale-house and he got all huffy and stormed off. What with honey cakes, and pastries to make, and the vikhan to get ready for the table, I was very busy indeed, and still controlling a seven year-old daughter and a three year-old son. The food was finally ready, pel prepared and the children sent to the bedroom when the gang of four and their doughty leader began to arrive. He came last and ushered his merry men in before he himself deigned to enter. He eventually came in (strangely, he too was smelling of ale) and I picked up the heavy and hot platter of meat and juices. What I didn’t know was that the moron-in-chief had decided to drop his crossbow on the floor rather than use the small furniture we had for that purpose. He then compounded his folly by discarding his cloak over the top of it.
It really doesn’t take much to make men queasy, at least as far as the female side of things is concerned, and the facts of life. The farmers around here will spend bells mucking around in dung or peering knowingly up the backsides of constipated animals, but as soon as a baby spits up a mouthful of milk, they clear off, looking offended. Willen had this down to a fine art, and usually managed to slope off somewhere just as soon as the young ones were too much in evidence. This time, after I tripped over the wretched obstacle, dropped the platter and screamed just a little (well a lot, actually), my body decided to rid itself of an encumbrance. And my second son’s evacuation of my body was only marginally faster than the evacuation of the four grown men from our hut, closely followed by their intrepid leader.
Yes, it was left to me to tidy everything – or at least to arrange everything, and only do some of the tidying up. I screamed for Briselda to come to me, and then I explained to the terrified seven year-old to run next door to get Grizanthet. I say next door, but our hut was nearly a mark from the town then, on the other side of the Bray and old Griz was a little nearer to town than she was to us, just below the house of the scribe, whose wife was off visiting relatives living a bit downstream of Haligo. So I knew that Brizzy would take a while to do her bit, particularly as it involved crossing the stream; meaning that I had to crawl through the ruins of our dinner to get some cloths. Looking back on that evening, I’m glad that Termerik didn’t realise that he was totally unsupervised at the age of three. Now THAT would have been a disaster, the scrapes that one used to get into.
It was two or so evenings later that I finally fully realised time spent with me was at a minimum, and Willen doled out so little affection that it was indistinguishable. He had become so uppish, distant and calculating that I realised he even screwed according to some private timetable, the calculation of which was impossible for me, a ‘mere’ female. And as regards the event itself, everything was so brief and to the point that not even the smallest sanddropper could take a measurement of the time that passed.
A year later, I did still manage to give birth to a second son, and three years later to a second daughter, but after that I lived in fear of getting pregnant again. I certainly could not have managed. But I knew I did still like the act, or whatever I could remember of it.
The last time, I said to him: “I hadn’t realised that it was a race”. He didn’t reply, just rolled over, taking most of the coverings with him and started snoring about 30 breaths later. Willen did not have much of a sense of humour.
Gramobona, however, does have a sense of humour. She lived very near Griz at that time, but she was of such a weight, that I doubt a ptuvil could have carried her aloft. Quite how she got her nickname, I have never discovered – maybe a joke from way back, but she was referred to by all as Gramma Bone. Certainly there is, with the exception of her nose, not a bone visible in her form. And she has never had children, so I couldn’t work out why she might be a grandmother. But her wry observations and often unbridled comments were a breath of fresh air. She was just about the only one to openly mock when Trogan imposed his restrictive regime, but she has always had a most acerbic wit. It took some getting used to when I was beset by everyone upon my arrival in the village as Willen’s wife, but I think really it was a major factor in my survival as a person.
For the circumstances, under which I now found myself, all combined to dehumanise a person.
I had been born in a house on the outskirts of Teldor, my father working for a wagon company. He had brought back my mother from a trip down south, all the way to Forguland. She was an orphaned niece of the assistant to the Master of the Ducal Household there, and as a result had learnt her letters and numbers. She and her Uncle were pleased when her hand was sought after by a dynamic Wagon Master, since she was a bit of a drain upon the resources of her family and relationships were occasionally strained. He bought her back to Teldor, settled her in, and even arranged for her to meet new people to make her life more pleasant, having been uprooted so rudely. He then set out to win her heart thoroughly and succeeded before the six month time limit given by her family was reached, and either the chaperone and she must return, or the chaperone could be dismissed. I was born some seven months after the official wedding in Teldor.
Mama set up a small home and spent a great deal of effort making it somewhere that Father would be pleased to return to whether after a long trip or just a day in the warehouse. Our family was one of affection and our home one of mostly laughter. We would play games together, either using dice or cards, which was a good way to absorb information about counting and numbers. I had started to learn my letters from Mama and to help with the women’s work, when my young brother was born. This led a few months later to Mama giving me ‘The Talk’, most of which I found quite distasteful. I was a late developer, just about the last of my age group, so it was a full two years later that the entire messy business started and I discovered in fact rather than theory that Kalikan had a far deeper meaning than just a bright light in the sky.
I was taking a walk one day, with two, or maybe three, girlfriends; just a few light commissions I remember, when a group of young men came in the opposite direction. The taller one, the one with those most noticeable eyes, caused very strange roilings in my tummy. Now I am so much older and have observed such situations from a bystander’s point of view, I am aware that the sudden giggling fit that descended upon us girls did not actually divert the boys’ attention, it served merely to make them focus upon us. We thought we were being so cool and aloof as we pretended to ignore them. After we had passed, none of us, neither boys nor girls, could resist a backward glance.
It will come, of course, as a complete surprise to you that we were examining wares at the market when we accidentally bumped into the same group of boys.
At the end of that afternoon, as we rushed, giggling inanely, to get home before we got into trouble, we were all marvelling at how wonderful these boys were. We had seemed to pair off so naturally and we soon knew their names, as they learnt ours. Jigan was the most wonderful-sounding name ever invented. They came from up-valley and had promised to return for the Harvest Festival.
Oh my dear, it would make you blush to know how my dreams developed over those intervening months. HE was the most handsome and brave noble who was going to arrive in a carriage and whisk me off to his castle. His broad, manly chest would be a protection for me as much as his strong, long arms. His feet were quite large too, and that brought a blush to my cheeks as I recalled what elder girls had told us about the correlation of that part of a boy’s anatomy to another part situated somewhat higher!
Harvest Festival rolled around, and none of us girls would admit to being excited about it, and yet none of us had ever taken so much time and care about our appearance. Naturally, we could not appear at all eager, you understand, and yet we were there at the rendezvous a good twenty moments earlier than arranged and spotted the boys doing the same thing, but on another street corner. Well, MOST of the boys were there. Jigan was conspicuous by his absence. The girls, naturally, insisted that my ugliness had driven him away and I was quivering over breaking down and crying publicly.
At that moment, the boys caught sight of us and came over hurriedly in a grinny, sheepish, and yet swaggery way. For some reason, they found it necessary to punch each other’s arms and gabble to each other as they approached; and then they reached us and became immediately tongue-tied. It was Seetha who broke the ice by asking Kayern where Jigan was.
“Oh, he’s gone to Dekarran. His father’s brother’s wife’s cousin got him a job working in the castle there. He won’t be home for a long while yet.”
At that, the boys all turned and waved another boy over, who had been standing scowling back on ‘their’ street corner. I was too distracted to take much notice but – to cut a VERY long story short – Willen became my husband some three years later.
Although girls come a distant second to boys in the ‘Monumentally Stupid’ races, they do still take part. And yes, it WAS monumentally stupid of me to marry Willen. I can find all sorts of excuses as to why it was right at the time, but – deep down and fundamentally – it was wrong.
In the intervening years, we had moved upstream to Haligo, due to a minor promotion for Father. His greater responsibilities meant that he was more at home rather than travelling, and thus spent more time with his wife and children. We all found Haligo strange at first, it being a town which had some nicer parts but was overall, to me, anxiety-inducing, living always in such a cramped space between what seemed to be towering cliff walls. One advantage of this (or so my thinking went at that time) was that it was nearer to Willen’s part of the world, which was Tranidor, or so he said. Father also felt hemmed-in and found another, more pleasant, house some two or three marks north of Haligo. Even nearer Tranidor!
Mama was certainly put out by two major moves in a year, and retrospectively I now recognise the increasing fatigue that had set in. We all put it down to the stress of the arrangements she made and the things she needed to control to make Father’s transfer a smooth operation. And then to have to do it all again when we moved further away from those brooding cliffs! But that new house was definitely so much better despite being an awkward distance from the amenities. Mama’s mood lightened noticeably and we all realised how few smiles we had enjoyed recently.
She and I, known well of course by the wagoneers, would travel to Tranidor on the frequent wagons passing up and down that route. We went every eight weeks or so out of the rains, our favourite roadhouse being the one at Toomer’s Gulley, although the four or more marks it took to pass Holville and all its effects were always a grave trial. A colleague of Father’s had been promoted which involved a transfer to Tranidor, and the two wives were great friends, so Mama and I had somewhere to stay for our week-long sojourns there. It was a pleasant break for us to escape the humdrum of everyday and to see other parts of this bustling valley. I had sent notes to Willen using the messenger service to let him know when we were going to take a trip, and, with only one exception, he managed to meet us. Mama was not certain about him, but now I look back on it, was pleased that I had a reason not to hang about with the youngsters in Haligo.
It was on one of these trips that Mama suddenly announced she had to sit down.
She started coughing. This was a different cough than any I had heard before, even those awful ones brought on by passing Holville.
And suddenly there was blood on her lips.
She faded fast after that. I sent a message with one of the wagons and Father and Subrish, my brother, appeared three days later; just in time to see her, speak with her and hold her as she slipped away from us.
And that’s when I made a very, very silly decision.
Father explained that there had been an opportunity for betterment that he had turned down as it involved yet another move and he didn’t want to wear out Mama with all that again. Going all the way to Brikant would have been too much for her, he felt, even if it meant she would be that much nearer her relatives. But now, it might make sense to change, to help get over the shock. He was sure that he could find Subrish work but it was I that might make things awkward.
“No problem, Father. It is near time I left for my own life now anyways, I shall simply marry Willen.”
… … …
And so it transpired two months later. We went back down after the pyre, I having sent Willen a note, and we packed up our sad little house. Father and Subrish sent all the belongings to a warehouse in Haligo and then we returned to Tranidor. If Willen had rejected me, then maybe there would have been a whole different outcome as I was sure that I could not stand just being a domestic drudge for the men of my family. I was at that precise moment in my existence when I wanted and needed a life for myself.
He didn’t reject me, and we were married from Mama’s friend’s house.
Father had arranged a small house for us near the Bray bridge, and we spent the first week or so of our married life there. Much fumbling and many false starts later, we had discovered what worked for us, and our love-making sessions made me certain I was deeply in love with my man. We didn’t eat too much during those days I know – but Mama’s friend visited every afternoon, Willen left to do whatever it was that Willen did, and I was taught the rudiments of cooking and housekeeping. Father and Subrish came round to eat the first dinner I had ever prepared on my own and then we had a tearful (on my part) farewell. None of us knew that we would never meet all three together again.
Willem had been almost smiley for a few days, but as it grew near time to vacate our little nest, he became more and more remote. I had heard that the common folk say that a marriage is like a full passing of Kalikan, from new moon to the next. It starts out early, growing sweet like honey (or that knobbly orange root we dig up called vayter) then reaches its peak and wanes. Like many jokes that have their base in reality, that first happy period is therefore called the vayterkan, ‘the sweet month’ - supposedly, that cycle is then repeated.
It seemed to me that my vayterkan should have been named after Annis rather than Kalikan; vayternis. Scarcely a week had passed and it was already waning.
And it never reappeared.
I knew of course that Willen was a skilled huntsman and that that was how he earned a living, but I knew very little about his family or his home. I assumed that he lived a mark or two above Tranidor, just as we had lived a mark or two above Haligo. This was merely one of the first assumptions that I had made that was to be shattered early on.
Our day of departure wasn’t too bad and nearly went as I had planned. I packed my meagre belongings in some cheap boxes, I handed over the remnants of our foodstuffs to Mama’s friend, took a tearful farewell from her, and waited for Willen to return, which he eventually did, riding a young but nevertheless worn-looking frayen and accompanied by a nearly fully laden dranakh-drawn wagon, which my experienced eye told me was one of the slightly smaller types, usually used for carrying goods from the wharves at Haligo to the warehouses for redistribution from there. The wagoneer’s chair was a single seat perched almost as an afterthought on the front of the load-carrying ‘belly’, as wagoneers call the deepish well where the goods are stacked. Even though they were so few, my boxes nearly filled the remaining space. Willen made me repack it whilst the unsmiling and, as it proved, mostly uncommunicative wagoneer just looked on.
“Why does there have to be this empty space here, Willen? And why is it so comparatively large?”
“You have to get that big arse of yours in there. Unless you fancy walking?”
“How far is it? I can walk two or three marks,” I managed to respond through my shock.
“It’s a good few paces more than that!” was the reply which produced something between a snort and a harrumph from Jafferkin, not that I knew his name at that stage of the proceedings. It took me a long while to eventually find out his name, and then it was only because I overheard Willen using it. I think it was only because I knew to let his dranakh take my arm in her mouth, that I received a very begrudged form of respect. In fact, I knew the dranakh’s name (Jeen) quite a while before I knew her driver’s.
Willen clambered aboard Nelke and Jafferkin urged Jeen into motion. A few moments of tangled streets and alleys and we were suddenly at the Bray bridge. Jafferkin grunted at the guards who waved us by, we crossed and then turned left, heading north. From my position at the trailing edge of the wagon, my view was of the road we had already travelled along. Any view ahead was most awkward in the extreme. But at least I could jump down and walk occasionally, just to relieve the numbness in my bum.
Poor Jeen was no longer in the first flush of youth, but she was not exactly old yet; she seemed to me to preserve her strength and stamina whenever she could. Some of the not-so-many other wagons cursed us for slowing them down. I didn’t see the problem, the road wasn’t that busy and it only took some little time to pass us, I doubt ever more than a hand of moments. On only one occasion did a wagon descending towards us have to stop and pull over until we two side-to-side wagons had passed.
I called for a break as we approached one roadhouse and caught the look each man gave the other. Willen then increased pace and disappeared into the forest whilst Jeen hauled us the couple of hundred strides to the comparatively small roadhouse. I was glad to use the facilities and came out to see Jafferkin talking to one of the staff. It was quite surprising to actually see him converse. I was offered, and accepted, some pel before Jafferkin came and hoiked his thumb in my direction, to indicate it was time to continue. I offered to pay, but the girl told me it was covered.
And so we journeyed on, Willen occasionally dropping back to converse desultorily, but then slipping away into the forest as we approached a resthouse. I tried to ask him what was happening, but was given an early version of what I would later dub ‘The Glare’.
My buoyant mood of earlier was slipping away with every pace we took.
I soon learnt not to ask how much further we would be going. For the first time in my life, we carried on after the sun had left the world, sinking not so slowly behind the mountain ridge off to the west. The evening stayed bright though but even that had darkened into night, it must have been nigh on another full bell, by the time we eventually pulled into a roadhouse. Willen had not slipped away this time, but stayed with us.
We entered, had an adequate meal and then I was surprised to be ushered up to the women’s quarters by one of the serving girls, leaving Willen and Jafferkin with tankards of ale in front of them. The girl helped me prepare for bed, explaining that we had arrived much later than we had been expected, and that she would come and fetch me in the morning, but she was far too busy to chat right now. I couldn’t go back down to the common room in my nightdress, so I was stuck.
And that was it.
No night spent with my husband, for the first time since we married. No goodnight kiss, no cuddle, no feeling of strong arms surrounding and protecting me. No knowledge of where I was, nor of where I was going, nor of what secret my husband had that he must avoid busy places on the road.
I was far too busy crying to sleep much that night.
And so it continued for the rest of the journey. Another overnight, and another more than half day’s journey through the seemingly interminable forest, breaking out of that into a dull and dreary overcast day. We continued for some marks (which felt like about a hundred) until the tiniest town I had ever imagined surrounded me. I stood up and looked around me, my gaze sweeping through a complete circle.
How to describe it?
I suppose that the best way is to base it on the rushing river we had been following at varying distances since we left Tranidor. This river, called the Bray, had grown steadily more stream-like and less rushing the further north we travelled, and it was here that was the birthplace of it, where its valley head was a bit like a bowl. The general direction of travel of the stream was from north to south, so obviously there was a slope, not too steep, from north to south, although the valley walls were much steeper, cut here and there by canyons, mostly very narrow.
The town/village we had reached was to the east of the watercourse, and above it. The northern end of the town/village was almost, but not quite, butting up against the steeper slope there. That northern end was the highest point of the town itself with a strange-looking squat windowless building.
But there was another slope too, this one dropping from east to west. To the right as we had approached, in other words to the east, a wider than usual canyon entrance appeared, from which another stream emerged to join the Bray near a stone bridge, situated at the foot of the town. There was some higher ground than the buildings off to the east where the canyon mouth was, but that was well off to the left of the bridge, as I now looked at it, which had carried the straight road across the side stream. The road had entered between the strangely clustered buildings, had carried on towards the strange building at the top … and simply stopped there, at a flattish widish roundish area upon which there were two wagons parked; which we joined.
Jafferkin had set the brakes on the wagon and had unhitched Jeen, who turned her head to look at me, bleated and then wandered slowly off across the slope to the south-east towards the canyon from which that other stream emerged.
“Are you going to stand there and gawp all day, woman? Start unloading all that stuff of yours.”
Such was my welcome to Blackstone from my husband.
I won’t bore you with all the trivia but basically for the next ten years at least, everything was my fault. The weather, the late growth of the crops, the early growth of the crops, the demand for the animals he hunted, whether high or low, the lack or plenitude of the dust in our hut, the speed with which things were cleaned, the sudden disappearance of his favourite shirt (which I had put away in the shirt drawer) and so it went on. On several occasions I was to blame for the late start of the rains, or the early start of them, take your pick. As for the mornings after a ‘session’ in the Bell Inn, his headache and queasiness were my fault too.
And then there was my mother-in-law.
I fully understood the dread Willen must have felt at having to return to be near her. No person has actually survived a close encounter with a ptuvil, but folks say that it can breathe fire. Hah, that’s nothing compared to her. Jeberset was a one-woman army with a look that could freeze you and a tongue that could flay you. And I was a foreigner! I had not been introduced before her son had dared to do something by himself. A crime so heinous that I could and would never ever receive her forgiveness.
My housekeeping skills were below the standard that she expected, as was made plain on the many unannounced inspection visits she made to our hut. She made no motion to help with things that were strange to me, like using rocks to make fires, but was very quick and very loud to criticise when I got it ‘wrong’.
I will never forget her and her cronies gathered round like feltris, all dressed in black, and looking as though they were going to devour me with their disfavour. Pursed mouths, beady little eyes and pronounced noses like beaks are the abiding memories I have of them. They were so much like those avians that descend in groups and tear apart freshly-dead animals that I could not fail to liken each of them to a feltren.
The single women of my age hated me because I had snared one of the few available men, and the younger ones were all warned off the foreigner by their mothers’ heaving bosoms above crossed arms and below heavy frowns. That didn’t stop the bolder ones of course, but even meeting with them was a strain because they were always checking over their shoulders to see if any mother or aunt or a friend of either of those was around. However, when some knew that I had my letters, then they pleaded with me to help them learn and we would pass a few snatched bells in my role as part-time teacher.
The older women disapproved of my education and apparently my ‘upper class’ accent annoyed them. And when I started to keep and train eppris, why then I was beyond the pale – doing a man’s job – how absolutely dreadful! It didn’t stop them buying the honey of course, but that’s neither here nor there.
From none of these groups did I ever receive one word of welcome, nor one of encouragement.
The town itself managed a living from an adequate influx of visitors due to the trade based upon the wool products we derived from the abundant pakh herds that lived here. There were other industries that were around, but the town’s fortunes rested squarely on the established esteem of our pakh-wool products, reputed to be the best in all Palarand. Of course, my husband and his family owned no pakh, a fact I recognised early on that meant we were in effect hangers-on, so where they derived their airs and graces from, not even the Maker could know.
Strangely, in retrospect, it was getting pregnant that was my saving. I had contemplated leaving on many occasions, but had never mustered the courage and then it was too late. It was impossible to countenance a single, pregnant woman finding her way back down the valley to a larger town and being able to fend for herself. This was nearly two years after I reached Blackstone. I was all cried out by then, and a dull resignation had set in, when I bumped, literally, into Griz.
It was late at night, a dark cloud-covered night. Willen was off into the remote valleys with a group of his cronies – later to become ‘The Group’. They had a contract for providing meat for the two Inns here in town and for the roadhouse down the valley, in the forest. I had discovered that that was what he was doing on our journey here – hunting some poor game animal to give to the roadhouse to earn some coin or to pay in exchange for our meals and board. Jafferkin and I had become closer over the intervening period and Jeen always seemed to speak to me when they came into town. In fact, there was one remarkable occasion that I shall tell you about later, but I will follow this thread for now.
I was making my way to our privy, dug like anyone else’s just next to the dungheap, when I collided with a soft warm body and we both tumbled down, not accompanied by silence. Once our mutual shrieks had died down, we discovered who each was and then I was shocked to hear her laugh. No-one here had ever laughed in my presence except the children when I was teaching them.
“I’m sorry!” she said through her laughs. “I had our pakh grenn on a line, but it slipped from my fingers. I just wanted to catch that wretched grenn now he is finally trained to help us round up our pakh, and has become worth something to us other than to bark when visitors appear at our door. We wanted an early start so I wanted him nearby. I was chasing after him when I bumped into you. And I can feel that you are in the same state as I. Here we are, two pregnant women, entangled in the middle of the night, and sitting on the outer edge of a dungpile.”
I was intelligent enough to burst into tears. Which event was interesting as one part of my brain seemed to act as an observer and muttered to itself: ‘I thought you were all cried out?’
We repaired into my hut, after I had done my business, with her arm around me and to which I clung like a drowning sailor. I discovered her name was Grizanthet, that she was married to Boxklee, that they had many pakh, that she had recently moved into a smallholding just down from the Scribe’s house on the other side of the stream to me, and that she had been warned about me. Apparently, I was the wicked wife of the Huntsmen’s leader who made him miserable, had disrupted the whole town, turned nosy children into amphibians and had the effrontery to pretend I was an Eppriman – as a result of which, I was apparently referred to as ‘The Epp’. I was far too big for my footwear and considered myself so far above the rest of the town that I refused to speak with any of them.
I burst into tears – again.
As the night progressed, I related my story to her and she hers to me. We both had a few good, healing cries. My dark cloud lifted and I felt strength course through me as we bonded. She found it easier to address me as ‘Epp’ and that’s how I came to like that misnomer. She became ‘Griz’.
Maker! I had a friend.
… … …
Yes, we had our differences – after one row we didn’t speak for nearly four whole days – but from that day onward I started healing. I plucked up enough courage to visit some nearer neighbours and met Gramobona.
She hastened the healing process. Some of her expressions were not repeatable in polite society, but had me roaring my head off. Her enormous girth and stature meant that she did little exercise but the cloth she wove from her pakh wool was of such demand that people fetched her daily requisites to her! In later days, she spent many a bell teaching me to weave, particularly in those days whilst I was nursing little Briselda. I dare say that my cloth was very acceptable indeed.
Gramobona (called by us GB) for weaving and sewing, Griz for cooking and part-time motherhood (she looked after younger ones for mothers that had to work in the fields), myself for letters and honey-making and later egg production eventually made a quite formidably competent circle.
And we were collecting some coin!
Every little soo and fenik I got for the sweet nectar produced by my increasing colony of eppris was carefully stored away in a jar. Which became two jars, once Willen had stumbled over the first one and had taken the contents as his. So I would leave one jar out with about a third of my takings, and I buried the other outside, near the dung heap. Nowadays there are several jars there.
(Note from Julina - in case that it has changed in the intervening years, or is too complicated for outlanders to comprehend, our money system is as follows:
The smallest coin we have is a Soo which is about enough for an ale or a snack, or a jar of her honey or a hand of her eggs
Then comes the Fenik, equal to 4 Soos. A standard meal is about 1 Fenik
20 of these make a Solly, or Sollie
A Crown is 10 Sollies
I should point out that not every transaction involved coin changing hands, a simple exchange of goods for services or other goods being almost the norm! My latest bedcover cost me four letters and two notices that I wrote. But enough from me, back to her and to her first pregnancy ...)
I could feel inside me that the young growing thing came more alive as well, became somehow happier too, if that is at all possible. GB and Griz were both there to help me when Brizzy was born, the husbands making sure that they had business as far away as possible. I was there for Griz, but hers was stillborn, there was a lot of blood and she never managed a pregnancy after that. I nursed her for some weeks and on more than one occasion I was convinced that she was about to leave us. Griz alone was with me when Termerik was born, but GB was there in spirit, a heavy chill confining her to bed at the time.
I had not explained this much detail in my infrequent letters to my father, I was ashamed to tell him of the huge mistake I had made and wanted him to continue in the belief that my life was fine. He had his own life to regenerate and I wouldn’t have him start worrying about me, so my notes were always positive without divulging too many facts. From his replies, I learnt that Subrish had travelled on and found work with relatives in Forguland. Father had been a little ill after an accident when a wagon wheel broke and the wagon hit his leg, but as his work was mostly in the offices in Brikant, he was coping fine; his housekeeper being a ‘jewel’ apparently.
Willen spent a little more time with Termerik now that I had (“at last”) provided him with a son and heir. But I objected to many of his frequent mishandlings. As an example, I objected to him trying to teach a five year-old how to use a crossbow to kill things.
Willen had set up a row of malmris on a low wall some strides behind our property and was letting the young one try to shoot them. The bolts of course were flying everywhere, unless Willen was doing the releasing, and one hit poor Nelke on the flank, but with most of its force spent. I almost laughed at the baleful glance he cast Willen’s way.
However, this was no laughing matter as I had earmarked those malmris for us to have after our supper, so I shouted at Willen which made him glare at me, but I was immune by now. He grumbled a bit, muttering into his beard and then just stomped off.
I was very keen on getting the children to eat some fresh stuff, having been brought up on the saying: ‘A malm a day keeps the Healer away’. About half the malmris were still edible, so I took them, peeled them, decored them and then boiled the slices I ended with in a mixture of some water and grated vayter.
This was the children’s favourite way of eating them. The sweet taste of the vayter balanced the acidity of the malm but that wasn’t the attraction for the kids. The vibrant blue of the malm and the bright orange of the vayter was what attracted their eyes.
Mind you, I silently cursed Willen for the next few weeks as every time Term saw a malm, he whipped out an invisible crossbow and slaughtered it – with sound effects.
I prevailed upon Willen to do some of the work around the house on the odd occasion, and once I managed to catch him at just the right time, and got him to build a small hutlet over the hole we used as our privy. He got a wagonload of grief over that from Jeberset and her cackling flock of feltris based on the unnecessary expense (which actually cost nothing other than a few jars of honey and a handful of eggs to the carpenter for the shaped wood) that he didn’t speak to me for nearly two weeks. Which he (and they) would never understand was a wonderful two week vacation for me, not having to suffer his marital demands, nor his unhelp around the domicile.
I noticed a few weeks later though, that nearly every hut and smallholder now had a wooden box in which to go and spend their most private (and smelly) moments. I grinned inwardly to think that I had been responsible for civilisation at last reaching this bywater of a town.
Once it took two full weeks of the rains to get him to fix the hole in the roof (in the corner nearest the door). In the end, I parked his second-best bow there and covered it with his mantle so that both got soaked. The hole was fixed three bells later.
On the whole, I would say that he was so lazy that, if there was a reward for laziness, he would have sent me to pick it up for him.
I did manage to get him to construct a small footstep in front of the door (to relieve me of some of the cleaning required when people enter with muddy boots) and also a second and third room so he and I could have a bedroom with some privacy and we could have one for the boys and one for the girls. But he then got all uppity about how much wood we were having from the carpenter, and he decided that I must be having an affair with him.
In fact, the carpenter was very pleased that my privy idea had so inflated his income that he said I could have any wood in the future for free, and his wife became quite friendly too. A single glance at how well the carpenter and his wife got on would suffice to know that the idea of him having an affair was plainly ridiculous, but Willen, his mother and the feltris-flock latched onto that idea in the same way their avian counterparts latch onto a fresh cadaver. This actually had an unexpected knock-on effect, in that the trouble they caused the carpenter and his wife was objected to by many in the community, and J and the FFs started to lose a lot of credibility and therefore their ability to affect events.
This too was blamed on me, and it was an occasion when I accepted the blame with both alacrity and glee.
Mother-in-law started to become more and more bitter from then on (a fact I would have believed to be impossible) and it wasn’t long before all that acrid poison inside her ate away at her innards. She had three days of severe pain, pain that even I was sorry to see her undergo, before she gave up the struggle.
This was, of course, also my fault.
Over the next few months, Griz and Boxklee helped me with another of my ‘mad ideas’. They did not understand what I was trying to achieve in building a wooden walkway from my footstep by the door until one day Griz was visiting and needed the privy. It was during the rains and she suddenly learnt that not only was it nice to have a roof over your head whilst dealing with your waste, it was nice not to have to wade through sticky mud to get there and back. Yes, more work and coin for the carpenter and a lot of unspoken credit for me in his establishment, which came in very useful a few years later, as we shall see.
Almost two years after Jeberset left this world - a passing that was totally unmourned by any of her four grandchildren, with whom she had never once shared any affection - I was startled to see Nelke return alone. Nelke you will recall was Willen’s frayen. The Group were off on their annual two week ‘game’ avian drive, a project that I must admit was of use to the community. The idea was to make sure that there were stocks of avians for the rest of the year to be hunted so that the community could eat a good variety of food.
I had (and still have) never visited the upper end of Blackstone Vale, but the descriptions I have had of it are quite interesting. The Blackstone ‘River’ flows basically from east to west, out of the Vale and into the Bray, so of course there is a slope up there that tips the water our way. Apparently there is a ridge into a neighbouring vale in which the waters run the other way, to the east! And over the far side of that is another vale and so on. It was in this area that 'The Group' was operating.
It took nearly two weeks to find him.
When they explained to me what must have happened, I remembered the angry looks that he sent my way whenever (and it was frequently) that I predicted dire results from his lack of thinking things through. Apparently, he had decided to investigate a hole in a tree trunk that was too high to reach from the ground. So he parked Nelke below the hole, climbed onto the beast's back and reached into the hole to such an extent that his elbow was inside the tree trunk. Nelke chose that moment to wander away leaving poor Willen suspended from his arm, with no way to retrieve that limb from the hole.
Yes, I did say ‘poor Willen’. I had loved him once, and to starve to death that way, unable to move, trapped fast, with no-one nearby must be a horrible way to go.
At that time, my children were, in descending order, 15, 11, 7 and 4. Briselda’s sister, Surekha, had been born at just the right time for me to explain the facts of life to her, Brizzy that is, so I was nursing the baby as I gave Brizzy ‘The Talk’. Country girls have seen much more of the cycle of life than I had when I was her age, and I am fairly sure she didn’t find what I had to say as distasteful as I had when I was on the receiving end.
Daily life continued and I was now reckoned to be someone of worth in the town, providing as I did nearly all the honey and half of the eggs consumed on a daily basis. Brizzy was turning a few boys’ heads by now and I made myself a promise that she would see more than just Blackstone before she settled down to her own life. Term was about to have his voice drop, and Mohini was starting to get serious and to build some muscles from the deliveries he made around town. He was at that lovable age of eight, still a child but wanting to be ‘old’ like his brother. Surekha was five by now and getting into everything, still needing half an eye on her to whisk her away from scrapes.
You can imagine the scenes when I told the four of them that I had organised a two week break for us all to go to Tranidor; the children were all beside themselves with excitement. Certain elders of the female persuasion were shocked and declared that we were flaunting my widowhood too soon after my husband’s death, but hardly anyone bothered to listen to them anymore.
I had arrived in Blackstone just before my 18th birthday. This trip was the first time I left the place, some 18 ½ years after I arrived.
… … …
There was one fairly strong reason to leave as early afterwards as we did. I needed, of course, to hire a wagon, to take the five of us and all our boxes. So who did I think deserved the coin most?
Yes, Jafferkin.
I mentioned earlier that we had become closer in the intervening years. He was one of the handful of regulars that came all this way, bringing ordered supplies and taking finished pakh wool articles. Although he said very little, he always had a little trinket for me and I had a jar of fresh honey for him.
As had become our custom, I trudged across to the wagon place at the top of town to see him arrive and again to see him off, various different babies on my hip as the years passed. Also as usual, Jeen appeared about half a bell before departure and backed into the traces and harness. It became something of a ritual, both of us appearing at the same time, and it delighted Jafferkin as his head would swivel to and fro to see which would reach him first. Somehow Jeen always contrived to make it an exact match.
And then something really unusual occurred on one of his trips. He arrived, I greeted him, he released Jeen and she wandered away, perfectly normal behaviour. Two days later, it was time for him to depart again.
Jeen appeared at the same time as I, but this time she was not alone. Trailing in her wake was a younger dranakh. Now, I am not able to speak dranakh and I do not understand animals generally, but Jeen somehow made it clear that both Jafferkin and I should allow the new dranakh to accept our arms in his (yes, it was a young male) mouth. We looked at each other with wonder and then performed the ritual. But still Jeen wanted something and we were at a loss to understand what, until a thought seemed to flash across my mind.
“Jaffy, she wants us to name him!”
“You, Mistress,” grunted Jafferkin as his eyes widened in surprised comprehension.
I knew it had to be a ‘J’ to go with the two of them, so I thought swiftly.
“Jonile?” but Jeen indicated a negative.
“Jordile?” This was again met with a no but one that verged on a maybe but only if there was nothing better.
I tried again and again.
And then something else just sprang into my mind.
“Josten!”
No question about it this time and Jeen somehow indicated that she was satisfied. She bleated with the youngster who watched intently as she backed into the harness, then they squeaked a bit and Josten wandered off towards where I knew the dam was.
Jafferkin and I looked at each other in amazement and awe. It was exactly the right moment to have a little hug, of which Jeen indicated her approval. This was the first and last ever physical contact I had with Jafferkin. And then J and J departed.
Maybe it will come as no surprise when I relate that next time Jafferkin was in town and it was time to go, both Josten and Jeen appeared. This time however, it was Josten who backed in and Jeen who remained to one side; she bleated a bit before looking at me meaningfully – and then wandered off damwards. Whatever the meaning she was trying to convey was, I felt I had no idea. Then.
I suspect I worked it out over time because, for the next few years, whenever I needed to move something large and/or heavy, then Jeen appeared to assist. She also never failed to come to see J and J whenever it was time for them to go.
Until one day she didn’t.
It was a strangely moving moment that even Josten seemed to join in. But of course, that’s the final part of the cycle of life, and we had all known that someday it would happen. I dried my tears as I watched the pair head off downhill, Jafferkin apparently had a small insect in his eye which needed clearing out.
But I have wandered away from my thread somehow - so back to our down-valley expedition.
I had hired Jafferkin and Josten to take us down there and bring us back, but that meant, of course, we had to depart when he was in town, having brought up a load on one of his regular trips; he would not make a special trip up empty just to collect us. It was either go this time or wait for maybe three or even four weeks. It didn’t require much brainwork to decide.
Of course, the old feltris didn’t let facts get in the way of their opinions, even when I got so frustrated that I dressed one down publicly and the people round about applauded me and laughed at her.
When that occurred, I found that I was amazed at myself. What on Anmar had got into me?
… … …
I have a theory born of experience, and that is that if you want to understand a subject, then teach it and answer the questions that you get.
On that journey, we kept ourselves occupied by my supervising Brizzy teaching the rest their letters and numbers. She found a good way to help with the numbers, by using the markstones we passed. We did this for three bells on each day, and we played name the plant/bush/tree, and who was the first to spot an avian/animal/insect, even a falling leaf. I let Term run alongside us for a while so he could stretch his legs without delaying us, and being a male, he ran faster than us and would wait two hundred strides ahead for us to catch up, complaining about how slow we were.
We spent the first night at the roadhouse in the forest which was a real adventure for the young ones, as they looked round in awe at sights they had never seen before. Although a large proportion of the workers there were from our town, most of the ten or so others were complete strangers. The young ones couldn’t stop staring, but fortunately the staff and travellers took it well. We could have gone on a little further that first day, but that would have meant camping and just being among ourselves. I judged it better to break them in gently when it came to dealing with strangers.
Term was full of energy in the morning and impatient to get back on the road. We loaded up and headed out, Term running ahead calling to us to chase him. I had to shout to keep him close. We went on for a mark or two like that whilst the younger ones did their numbers and letters and looked at the by-now boring expanse of trees.
Jafferkin then contributed a very valuable lesson indeed, one that took a fair while to conclude.
“Young goodman. You keep walking the whole day when Josten does, and I will buy you a frayen for yourself.” I think even he surprised himself with his verbosity.
“But you stay near us, Term. I don’t want you attacked by any wild animals, or getting lost in the forest.”
The 12 year-old screwed his face up in determination and I could see that he thought he was so going to do this. But both Jafferkin and I knew the effort it took to walk for bell after bell with little rest and he would have to drink when Josten did and rest then too. He ran ahead and pretended to yawn as we drew near him again which worked for a while but then we could see him tire as the bells passed and eventually he was struggling to keep up.
My heart went out to him, but sense knew that this was an important learning moment.
I whispered to Brizzy that she would have to be supportive later as he was going to be so upset and probably in tears, which was to be a valuable lesson for her too.
By this time we had joined the trade route from Chaarn and the traffic was a little heavier, not that it could be called busy, though. The children were still amazed at the different views and landscape. Roadhouses were a little more frequent as were spots to make rest stops. It was also less forested and views across the valley revealed high pasture and the odd mining outlet. An occasional canyon contributed its stream to the river which was now roaring , now quieter and twisty. Farms small and large had appeared and I swear Surekha’s head swivelled round three complete turns as she tried to take it all in.
We had a rest or two, we females needed to stop more often than the menfolk. And my heart again went out to my tough little man, my breast swelling with pride. Jaffy showed his respect too, but we both knew this painful lesson was important.
And then we continued.
Soon, all too soon, brave Term started dropping behind. He gritted his teeth and struggled on, but we all knew he would not make it – including Term. The poor little man eventually held out his arms for me to take him up into the cart belly and snuggled into my arms sobbing. I comforted him for a good while before he suddenly decided to be annoyed with me and flounced over to near his older sister.
At this point, incredibly, Jafferkin started speaking: “Young goodman, I have known you all your life. You are tough, stubborn and strong. Listen hard now. This has been a lesson for you. At the start you were so much quicker than us, but at the end we had to pick you up. Your mother has been an example to you all your life. Slow and steady gets there reliably and leaves you strength to use at the end. Fast and furious uses up your energy and buys you only temporary advantage. Growing up, you will remember this day. Slow and steady. Learn.”
I think we were all shocked. Those were more words in that one speech than I had heard from him in all of our times together. The children certainly had never heard him speak so long and so much, and so they were amazed as well.
Term realised the heaviness of the moment and I was proud to see him actually think about it and not react petulantly.
He nodded and dropped down into a corner, soon falling asleep. Brizzy whispered to me that she was impressed at how very hard he had tried, and I told her to tell him that personally at some point.
Surekha was getting fractious as the sun began to set behind us and even Brizzy and Mohini were starting to get fidgety.
I saw the distant rooves before any of them and I estimated another bell and a bit before we got to settle in for the night. I made Brizzy wake Termerik so he would see the approach. The children grew quieter and quieter as the size of the town became apparent. Even I was awe-struck, my mountain sojourn having affected me far more than I realised.
We turned into the bridge approach, Jafferkin paid the toll to the guards and we were through, crossing above the river into the town.
The children were absolutely silent now, indeed were looking a bit scared. We weaved through a few streets, passed strange places, were assailed by strange and exotic smells, caught glimpses of strange sights, and heard voices from everywhere about us. Not just voices talking. Some shouting, some singing, some encouraging others to buy their wares. Some laughter, some curses, some oaths, some losses of temper, some screams and tears and shouted rows. Some children laughing, shouting and playing. Some whining and crying. Rattles of wagon wheels passing over stone roadbeds. Screeches of badly worn axle-bearings, slams of doors. Barks and whines of domestic grennis. Distant ringing of hammers, the dull roar of the river, squawks of the water avians. Crackling of domestic fires and chops from the axes breaking down the wood to be consumed. Animal farts, bellows and bleats. Sweeps swishing the droppings clear. Was that a faint sense of music from over there?
And everywhere we looked, more people than in the whole of Blackstone.
But the noise was the most upsetting thing to us. How could anyone live all day in this tumult? We felt physically assaulted. We all held our hands over our ears as a forlorn form of protection.
Jafferkin twisted and turned his way around streets with which he was obviously familiar. I found myself wishing that there was somewhere I could go to order food for us all to be delivered to wherever we were going, to save me some time setting up our temporary home. After crossing the now mostly empty market square, we turned a few more corners and I saw through the alleys running besides the buildings that we must be close to where the Bray joins the Palar. There was one house there, lights lit and looking far more expensive than anything I could have budgeted for.
We drew up in front of it and two burly-seeming men came out the door, acknowledged Jafferkin and then started unloading our boxes. Another, older this time, man ushered me and the kids into a lower floor room.
All four children were trying to hold a hand of mine but that was never going to be possible; we all got temporarily stuck in the doorway. I ushered Brizzy through first and tried to disentangle the rest of the tribe when a voice spoke up.
“Ah, you must be Briselda. Come and give your grandfather a kiss.”
… … …
I squealed.
I know I squealed.
And of course cried.
We managed to disentangle ourselves and enter the room, and I saw my father for the first time in ages.
It would be difficult to know just which of us was more shocked.
I can only imagine what he saw – certainly not a blushing young recently-deflowered wife with smooth skin and eyes full of life and expectancy, which was the me he had last seen. A tatty dress, unkempt hair, work-worn hands and a care- and weather-beaten face is what he got.
As for me, I saw an old man in place of the still lively younger version I had been carrying in my mind’s eye. It will take me far, far longer to describe what I saw than it took for my brain to process all the information.
I saw that this man was a liar most of all.
He had no right leg anymore. His letters had told me it was a minor injury, but this was far more than that. His face was creased with pain and sorrow lines, he must have weighed a half now of what he weighed when we last parted, and he had to squint slightly to see.
But his eyes still held that special look for his daughter that had always made me feel so melty. I wanted to run to him and let him fold me once more in his arms, but my children could not be abandoned so easily. So I had to be the mother first before I could be the daughter.
“Gather round me children,” I said, holding my arms out to let them shelter under my wings. “This is my father. I haven’t seen him for nearly 19 years. I would guess he has tried to surprise us, and he has succeeded. Go to him now and introduce yourselves. I will wait until you are done. But then,” I said glaring at the grinning old man, “I will need an explanation. And it is already bedtime for Surekha, and soon will be for Mohini, and we have to unpack, I have to cook you something, we all need a bath …”
“The bath is waiting, food is waiting, the beds are made, and the bags are being unpacked as we speak,” interrupted Father. “I learnt from Jafferkin of when you would be arriving, and I arranged all this as a surprise for you all. Now children, your mother and I have a lot to talk about, but we can do that later. I doubt not that we shall be up a long time this night. So why don’t you females all go upstairs to your rooms, then go down to the bathhouse while I speak with your brothers? After you’re all done down there, then the boys can bathe, and we can eat. I must tell you that I am already starving as you are a whole bell later than we expected and have waited for you. So perchance you might hurry just a little bit, just this once?
“Oh … There are some staff here to help you. The housekeeper is called Shemekia, she has been with me now for over ten years, and the two maids are named Jogantha and Karmanya. Kermel is Shemekia’s husband and he is my manservant. There are two other servants, a man and a woman, who have been hired for the time you are here, so you can all live a life of ease. These are in addition to the small team who look after this place when there is no-one here. Now let me kiss my daughter welcome, and then greet you all before you rush about getting yourselves ready for our much-delayed dinner.”
I was crying as I let my father hug me from where he sat, and I hugged him back just as ferociously. Then we girls let Karmanya show us upstairs where we met Shemekia.
Upstairs! How very strange that was to us.
“Welcome, Mistress, to your Tranidor residence,” Shemekia said as she greeted me warmly. She turned and spoke softly to Karmanya who curtseyed briefly and then skipped back downstairs again. Shemekia turned back to us again and continued. “I have allocated each of you a room since we have six rooms on this level. My husband and I sleep in a room in the attic, and the girls share another up there. The Master has his suite downstairs, since he finds it more than a little awkward coping with stairs. The manservant for these days also sleeps in a room downstairs. Mistress, you are in charge of this house now, so should you find the allocations not to your liking, then we will move you round. We have put the boys to the slightly noisier side, and the girls have some views of the river. Now you are the eldest, so you must be Briselda. This is your room …”
Brizzy’s eyes opened in wonder at the size of the bed she was offered; it was the size of the room the girls shared at home. She turned to me as if for confirmation. I just nodded at her and ushered her into the room. Even I was taken aback.
“… And this room next door is for you young lady – I understand your name is Surekha …” she said as she opened a neighbouring door and stood back. The room was slightly smaller than the first, but still seemed huge to Surekha, who was reluctant to go in for some reason.
“… And this door here is a toilet for use by the females only. The door opposite is that for the menfolk. And the other side of this toilet is your room, Mistress …”
I gasped as the door swung open under the gentle pressure from her hand.
There on a shelf, were two of my childhood toys. The bed was enormous, the sheets glistening and the room was spotless. I could see a balcony overlooking the river through a set of double doors, and I saw also the open door to a private toilet that backed up against the wall of the toilet outside.
In each of the rooms were our boxes, appropriately delivered and positioned. And unpacked. I was suddenly ashamed at the comparative shoddiness of our clothing and knew that I would have to tell Father of my sweetening of the truth. A small cloud tried to form in my mind, but I refused to give it house room.
“Right children, into your rooms and I shall come and help you get ready for our bath. Just let me get my own dress off first and I shall come to you - Surekha first. Then …”
“Mistress, if I might?” interrupted Shemekia. “That is our job. Karmanya and Jogantha can help the girls, and I shall help you.”
“Oh!” said Brizzy and I at the same time. Surekha looked even more worried, somehow.
“Er, Mistress Shemekia?” said Brizzy.
“Yes, Mistress Briselda?” (Her eyes widened at being called ‘Mistress’ for the first time in her life.)
“I believe that my sister may not be comfortable with this arrangement. You see she has never had a bed of her own before, let alone a room of her own. I fear she may be frightened of being alone.”
I mentally chastised myself for being so seduced by material things that I had not figured out what was wrong with my youngest, but at the same time I was proud of Brizzy for acting so maturely. In fact, the way she had supported Term and encouraged him, and consoled him and let him know how proud of him she was in his self-appointed task on the journey down, just made me realise how she seemed to have matured just in the days since we left Blackstone. This was truly a wise move to make this trip.
I sat with Surekha as Jogantha put some of her fears to rest, and then I left Surekha and Jogantha with Briselda and Karmanya, whilst Shemekia and I went to make me ready for the bath for which I had been yearning for some bells now. When we went back to Briselda’s room, the four of them were giggling away together, and my two were bath-ready.
We all trooped down the stairs and turned sharp right at the bottom, followed a narrow passage to a door and went into the bathhouse.
Oh what bliss!
Scents that I had forgotten about, and that the children had never smelled; I could have spent bells and bells in there, and I sensed Brizzy at least felt the same. But we were also hungry, so I made us cut the experience short and we were back upstairs scarcely more than a quarter of a bell later. The boys had been informed that the bathhouse was no longer occupied, so they clattered in there. We girls got dressed as quickly as we could, but were still later to table than the boys.
We had a nice meal, Mohini and especially Surekha though were suspicious of various new things sitting there on their plates. Surekha ate enough to satisfy my maternal concerns, and within five moments was nodding off at the table. Jogantha offered to carry her upstairs, but I knew that I should do this, to make her more secure in this very strange and new world. I quietly explained this to Father who nodded, and so I left the table with my meal only half eaten, and carried my little one up to her bed. She woke, of course, at the touch of the cool clean sheets and so I lay down to hold her as she drifted back off.
… … …
I awoke in the morning to the sounds of a household stirring itself, a sound that I had not heard for some years. I almost leapt up to get on with my chores, but suddenly remembered our circumstances. I was embarrassed that I had not properly greeted Father. I worried whether the rest of my family were alright. I felt dreadfully guilty not to have done a thing to prepare for the new day. Little Surekha was cuddling my leg and was still ‘connected to the moon’, as I could tell by her tiny twitches and a gentle smile. I wondered for the umpteenth time about the dream a child of mine was having.
I lay there for while wondering how to get up to see to my needs without waking my little sleeping beauty.
Eventually, not so very long afterwards, the door creaked open a notch, and the gap quietly widened. Jogantha poked her head round the door and I smiled and nodded at her to come in, my finger to my lips as I glanced repeatedly at the little one. She nodded back understandingly and then surprised me as she gently and yet insistently worked a finger then two, then her whole hand between the clutching hands on my leg. She waited then a full two moments before mouthing at me to gently move my leg away. I understood the plan and managed to disentangle myself without waking my youngest.
Once I was standing and twitched my creased dress into place, Jogantha mouthed that I should go to my room. I smiled my gratitude at her and made my way to my untouched bed, in my unused room, where Shemekia was already waiting.
“Mistress, good morning! Your father insisted we leave you. Would you like a bath first and then we shall go and see him? He is most eager to talk with you, and all the children are sleeping sound, so now might be a good time?”
“Good morn, Mistress Shemekia, I think …”
“Just Shemekia to you, Mistress, if it pleases you.”
“Very well, then, Shemekia. Let me think ...”
I rapidly scanned through my head all relevancies of which I could perceive.
“I think I will bathe with Briselda and Surekha again this time, to help them settle in, so I will take off this rumpled dress and get prepared for the bath, then visit my Father in my housecoat. When the girls awaken, then we three can dive into the bathhouse without too much delay.”
“Very sensible, Mistress.”
And so it was that Father and I had our long-overdue chat.
There were tears on both sides, and self-appointed blame, and shock and horror at some passages, and wonder as well. There was also laughter and more than a few happy memories. He called me the name that I had had in the family, Gro, and it warmed my soul. Soon everyone in the household addressed me thus, and it once again promoted a loving and fond family feeling for all.
I learned Father’s tale and found that, when he had become the Senior Supervisor for his company, he was much relied upon for bargaining in contract work. The owner of his company had eventually got to the age when he wished to retire, having spent every moment of every day building up the business. This man had never married and had no children, so had continued working far longer than was normal. He had asked Father to act for him, and Father had subsequently helped negotiate a deal with another company run by someone called Tanon. The company was efficiently absorbed into Master Tanon’s.
Less than a year later, the company founder was dead and to Father’s surprise had left his house in Tranidor to him, along with sufficient coin to retain the staff for at least three years. Father had therefore travelled to inspect his bequest and had found the house to be superb. Father explained that travelling was nowadays extremely disagreeable for him, as his injuries meant that he could not sit or ride with any degree of comfort at all. Nevertheless, he had been determined to come up to Blackstone to visit his family - but just as he was about to leave, a messenger arrived with an urgent need for his presence in Brikant. He had kept the Tranidor staff on in deference to his benefactor’s wishes and had returned with Shemekia and Kermel to Brikant, intending to send for me to sort out the Tranidor house for him in his absence.
One thing led to another, and that message requesting assistance was never sent.
In the meantime, he had discovered that Jafferkin was an unaffiliated haulier contracted on an individual basis to his company, and now, of course, to Tanon’s company. His investigations revealed that Jafferkin lived in Tranidor, and rarely did any run other than that to and from Blackstone, so he had arranged a few errands for Jafferkin which took him south. Father revealed that he had gleaned something from Jafferkin about our circumstances, but not very much – enough to suspect that all was not as well as I had been painting it. So when I made the initial plans with Jafferkin about our two-week break, Jafferkin sent a message to Father letting him know what was afoot. Father had arrived the day before us, and was still suffering from the journey, but his appearance steadily improved during the days we were there.
And what days we had when we were there!
They included Briselda’s sixteenth birthday, and its amazing celebration. It was a shock to me that she was now considered an adult and I kept wanting to treat her as the child she was so recently. Father had spent far too much on dresses and clothing for us all, but for we girls especially, and we had our hair cared for by someone else for the first time. We grew accustomed to the continual din that had so assailed us upon our arrival, and we saw many sights that were new to the children.
It was not all carefree fun though.
Some major decisions had to be made. Father would have to return to Brikant, but with the feeling that he would probably retire in three or four years’ time and return permanently then. I myself found that I was not prepared to just walk out on those friends and projects I had in Blackstone.
But this house had already become my rock – my refuge – my fundament. My safeground I could escape to if things got bad. And that just made my attitude different. Knowing I had a bolt-hole if required.
But the most fundamental decision was something for which I just was not prepared. I think I had a blind-spot. My mind was refusing to let me see reality for once.
Briselda.
What to do with her? I made sure she understood that there was always a place for her under my roof, but that I could no longer be responsible for her decisions. She had that burden now. So we had many late evenings, Father, Brizzy and myself – sometimes Kermel and Shemekia also contributed, for they too had some sound ideas and suggestions.
I’m sorry, I got that wrong. I was no longer entitled to call her Brizzy. Briselda, I must remember, was now an adult.
In the end, we had a family sit down on the eve of our departure, all six of us together. Surekha was upset, Mohini was indifferent and Term was over-accepting to mask his disappointment when we all agreed that Briselda would travel with Father to Brikant in order to expand her horizons.
I emphasised to her that she had a job now. And that was to examine as many options as possible for her future, and not to just accept whatever came along. I didn’t want her to waste this opportunity. The agreement was made, Shemekia promised to look after her and we family members all had bright smiles – all of them brittle for many varying reasons, except perhaps for those of my father. I made her promise to write regularly and then had to use the facilities where I had a private crying session.
After the younger ones were abed, I took Father, Briselda, Shemekia and Kermel to one side to discuss another idea I had had.
My idea as we entered Tranidor nearly two weeks ago just wouldn’t go away, and I discussed it with the others. They also saw possibilities and we expanded the idea. Briselda was tickled pink to be included in these so grown-up discussions. We all threw ideas about, ripped some to shreds, embellished others.
Which is how we created the first ‘carry away’ cooked food service in Tranidor, where we would keep a constant stock of food cooking and customers could come and fetch food ready at a moment’s notice. This was particularly attractive to the relatively late arrivals who, like myself, had no desire to fire up a kitchen, prepare a meal and do the clean up before being able to think about sleeping. We charged a reasonable amount, and extra if the customer wanted to take the food vessel with them. Eventually the business expanded into accepting orders for meals to be pre-made for a specific collection time.
But at first it was slow going, helped a little when we paid for some urchins to stand on the Bray bridge and tell incoming wagons of our services, and then word spread, then the business took off to such an extent that we had no less than four imitators two years later.
But back once again to my earlier thread.
And so we returned to Blackstone with Jafferkin and Josten, one family member less, but two frayen extra, with saddles. Father had purchased one for Term’s use and the other for the family, so that we could get around a little easier. Term didn’t ride his frayen on that trip. (Which would actually have been sensible to get some practice away from prying eyes, but I missed that point somehow!)
Term surprised me on that journey, as he stepped into the vacated ‘oldest’ shoes, and he took over the numbers and letters lessons, doing a very creditable job.
He still did some running/walking beside the wagon and was delighted when Jafferkin told him to drive the wagon after one rest stop. Josten looked round to see what was happening and somehow exuded approval. I think the fact that Jafferkin promptly lay flat out in the belly and started snoring was an extra honour for Term.
I knew I had to bite my tongue from telling him what to do and just kept a wary eye on what was happening, hoping to be able to react quickly enough if anything untoward should occur. I was a nervous wreck inside but just couldn’t afford to let it show. But this distracted me from the unease I felt at having to explain why Briselda had departed without a farewell to her friends and peers, and having to deal with the feltris again.
I also enjoyed wearing the better clothes that I now had, but I also knew that many would think that I thought myself superior in some way. I had not transported all my new clothes, there being nowhere to wear them up the mountain, so a few were left in ‘my’ room in the Tranidor house, which was named the 'South Point Mansion'.
… … …
These village undercurrents did not last long however. A disaster, there is no other word, descended upon us.
It started with a general feeling of unease as a few pakh demonstrated some strange symptoms.
Apparently the animals showed an increased body temperature and a feverish demeanour, which went away after a few days. A further few days and the poor animals had blisters, sometimes in their mouths but more often in their feet.
Much, much later we discovered the reasons for all this. One pakh farmer had apparently accepted an animal from his brother’s farm up the Sufen valley in the belief that breeding from this animal would improve the stock of the herds round Blackstone. It seems that this animal was put out to pasture on the west bank of the Bray, and a few weeks later, it and animals with which it came into contact started these strange symptoms. Within months, nearly all the animals in the Bray Valley head had become ill, with by far the greater proportion of them dying but some surviving.
This meant we had no pakh wool, and therefore the need for buyers to come to Blackstone was removed. So we had no income; so the town went into a rapid decline.
Worst hit probably were the people who ran the larger inn of the two in town, the Ptuvil’s Claw. They had expanded the premises, added extra windows and facilities and even bought a herd of pakh. Their outlay had been enormous by town standards, but they were just starting to make a profit after two years of paying off their bills. Business dried up and their pakh herd had been decimated. They debated staying on in the hopes that matters would improve, but decided to cut their losses and try again elsewhere in a less fragile environment. So they announced they would abandon the building, boarded up its doors and windows and simply departed down the valley without a backward glance. No-one knows where they ended up.
I think that about half the residents left Blackstone sooner or later during that period, including such previous luminaries as the Guildmaster of the Weavers'. I can estimate fairly accurately since the demand for my products dropped off dramatically. Griz managed to keep going on the back of her side activities, their pakh being now a negligible contribution. The only pakh herders who came out relatively unscathed were those who lived up Blackstone Vale, whom we saw but rarely, and those very few who kept their flocks up as high as the Stone Sea. And GB was the heroine who kept weaving the vastly reduced wool amounts to the best quality, thus making some woven products available to get some income flowing. It was obvious to everyone that her products were required and so she kept busy. But times were hard for most.
It was only afterwards that I realised that the problem had disappeared with the rains, which were particularly heavy that year. After them, we didn’t see the illness again, but we had less than one twentieth or even one thirtieth of the number of animals we used to have, and the wool quality was noticeably inferior – it has gently improved over the years since, getting only now somewhere near the quality it once was.
I had initiated a scheme whereby I would go down to Tranidor every fourth or fifth week, being away for a total of nine days each time, two days to get there and two days to get back left five days there. I took with me usually six people, but sometimes as many as ten, particularly the boys and girls who were just either side of puberty. I took some adults as well, those who wished to see something other than just the Blackstone area. All of them reacted the same as we had when the noise and hubbub hit their ears and all soon adjusted to it. Some few decided to stay down there rather than return, which once or twice caused me problems with their families up in Blackstone.
Father had used his contacts to arrange some training for Term once he reached 14, and Mohini was by then 10, so I would occasionally let Mohini stay down in Tranidor for a month or two. He showed an aptitude for learning and developed a very active and enquiring mind. So much so, that I was negotiating for an apprenticeship for him to start in a couple of years. Certainly by now, he was bored with Blackstone and much preferred Tranidor. The catering business down there was making a small profit, the costs having been covered quite some time ago. Mohini was soon to be very helpful in this enterprise and thought up some new ways of spreading the word about the services.
Tranidor was the point through which most of Northern Palarand’s mined products passed, or so it seemed to us, and there was a constant demand for services in the bustling town, although many were disgruntled with Lord Trosanar. I did not know the details but I can only report what the word was ‘on the street’, so as to say. Lord T seemed determined to antagonise the miners particularly. Any wagon that crossed into Tranidor had to pay for the privilege, and the roads down the Sufen and Palar Valleys led only into the town. The only exit for all these wagons was across the Bray bridge.
My Lord Trosanar was happy to extract coin, but the word I heard was that not many saw what he spent it on.
And so life in Blackstone stuttered on in its decimated way. Yes, I stayed up in Blackstone mostly, as I felt that that environment was better for Surekha at the moment. Then one day a peculiar group of men arrived. One was obviously in charge, but the others with him were … odd. They looked like thugs, certainly not staff members.
We discovered that the leader was a newly-appointed Tax Assessor called Trogan. Not having much coin around in a practically derelict town, I thought it strange, but then nobles and their ways are very strange.
I was more concerned in making a life for my children and developing my options over on the west side of the Bray and paid little heed, if any at all, to the comings and goings in town. Griz and Boxklee were nearer the town, of course, and she reported to me that they were quite aggressive in their demands, having upset quite a few already. I just shrugged it off, and thought little more about it.
Four or five weeks later, it seemed they had visited everyone on the east side of the river, including up into Blackstone Vale, and were starting now on my side, beginning at the head of the valley. Griz and Boxklee lived on the east side of the river and had explained to me what they had experienced. They actually had very little of value to point to and were still charged a whole Crown. They didn’t understand how that was assessed, and tried to protest, but said they were literally scared off from doing so.
Once the Tax Assessor came round, surveyed what I had and demanded also a Crown from me, I understood why others were annoyed. I had seen him coming and made sure that I was in my oldest dress, my hair was unkempt and the children in stained clothes. I smeared a little dirt on my face and strew this and that around making the place untidy.
I also knew enough to not let on about my savings and my business interests downvalley, and came up with what seemed to be a good plan.
I explained that I would have to travel to Tranidor to get so much coin from relatives there and would be back as soon as I had managed to borrow it. The Tax Assessor looked again, saw that I had things that needed maintenance and would probably be back, so he demanded a Solly now and a Crown when I returned. I could tell he was only interested in extracting as much as he could and that was as far as he could see.
I never knew what it was that decided him to allow us to go, for he was mostly confining people to town. Maybe because I was a widow, I was apparently poor, I had some eppris that needed tending – who knows? The fact remained that I was given permission when others hadn't been. Looking back, I should have just not returned, but, living as I did away from the main centre of Town, I was unaware of the full extent of his depredations. I think he too was learning how to handle the situation he had caused. And maybe, by then, he had not so much blood on his hands as later, when he imposed an iron discipline.
It only took a week altogether to get it all arranged, to get the necessary eppriman stuff done and to close up the home. A wagon pulled into town and the wagoner was a little happier about the exorbitant ‘Bridge Toll’ when I offered to pay it for him in exchange for transport to Tranidor, his overnight expenses on the way also to be picked up by myself. Even then, 'twas a difficult departure, some of his men arguing that we should not be allowed to go. I believe that the final permission was granted simply because he was annoyed with one of his men and just decided to do the opposite of what that individual wanted.
And so we all went down to Tranidor: ‘we all’ being myself, Mohini, Surekha, Griz and Boxklee.
We had a slightly longer stay than normal, a month away being the most I dared to leave the epphomes (or epprihouses to give them their proper Palarandi name) unattended. We were preparing to depart upon the return journey when Surekha came down with one of those childhood illnesses that lay them so low. We were in a quandary as I needed to tend my epphomes and no-one else had the skills. In the end, Griz and Boxklee volunteered to stay with the little one while Mohini and I travelled back north. But Mohini wasn’t having any of that, so in the end I had to travel alone. That was actually better for me as I could rush about doing my and Griz’s chores without having to worry about a child. I was concerned that I might not make it before the rains started.
I found a wagoneer that had a half-load ready for delivery to Blackstone, and I paid him to go without waiting for a full load, fully intending to do my business and then return with him after maybe just a day’s turnround time. He was reluctant to be alone with an unescorted woman but I managed to persuade him it would be fine. I shall regret that sequence of events for all the rest of my life.
His name was Grout. His dranakh studied me and I saw that she was a she. I let her take my arm in her mouth and was told that her name was Taneesa. It seemed she was willing and also seemed to enjoy having a lighter load. She waggled her ears in what I interpreted as delight and I found the gesture charming, particularly as she had a black tip on one ear and a brown one on the other.
We had just passed the Chaarn junction, when Jafferkin came down with Josten. For the first time ever, his wagon’s belly was empty. Josten and Taneesa sniffled, snorted and bleated to each other as we humans were talking.
“Mistress! Strange folk in town up yonder. Man says he’s tax assessor. Them with him bain’t be no officials or I’m a dranakh. Ordered out and to not come back, I was. Me!” he was so outraged that he had nearly lapsed into whole sentences. This really raised my hackles. Both dranakh turned their heads to look at me.
I thought quickly. “Right, Jaffy. You go to the house and tell everyone I might be delayed a bit. I’ll try to find out what’s going on. This sounds very weird. Why did they send a Tax Assessor to Blackstone? We are nowhere near as rich as we were, and even then we were poor. And why send you away? I have a strange feeling about this!”
The dranakhs snickered at each other and we went our separate ways.
We progressed fairly rapidly through the forest and camped in the old roadhouse that had somehow burned. The smell still lingered, so an uncomfortable night passed. We were glad to make an early start and reached the town eventually, parking in the ‘camping place’ at the top of the street. What was strange was that no-one was around and about on the street as we passed through.
There were five men around us as we climbed down; all but the better dressed one carrying a cocked crossbow. The better dressed one was of course Trogan, the recently appointed Tax Assessor. It was immediately obvious that he didn’t recognise me, nor did any of his men. My clothes were so much different to the near-rags I had worn as we departed – and I was alone too, unencumbered by children. Grout of course had never been here before, so to them there was nothing to connect with the honey-maker who had departed a month ago.
Trogan demanded a Solly from Grout for the ‘Bridge Toll’. We were both shocked and he started to protest when the crossbows came up and pointed at him. He protested once again but Trogan stepped forward and cuffed his ear.
“For your insolence, I shall confiscate the contents of your wagon. We shall unload it now, then you get out. No-one will be leaving the town until the back taxes have been collected, so there is nothing here for you and I don’t want to have to feed another two useless mouths.” He turned to his henchmen and rapped out some orders. “Brakkis, shoot him if he moves a muscle. The rest of you, I want everything off that wagon and on the ground within a quarter of a bell. Everything!”
I stood and watched amazed as the goods were simply tumbled to the ground. I snatched my small box and nearly got shot for it. So I started to use a woman’s weapons – and burst into tears, thinking quickly all the time. No-one who lived near this end of the town was my size and my dress was still a Tranidor one which made me instantly recognisable. I would have to plead to use a toilet and then get some information from whoever lived round about. One of the boxes was quite heavy and gouged the hanging tailboard of the wagon quite severely before tumbling awkwardly to the ground where it burst open and containers of paint were sent over a wide area.
“I know women, and you probably need to use a toilet. There,” he pointed, “use that hut there. And then you and your husband can leave again. I want you out of here before the next bell rings.”
“This is unsupportable! How dare you behave this way? My husband and I have lived in this town for twenty years! We shall not be ordered about in this uncouth manner.”
The wagoneer looked shocked, but had the sense to go along with whatever it was I was planning.
“Now get your men to reload the wagon, and we shall move it to where it belongs.”
“Listen lady, I have already told you that the belongings are forfeit. Failure to pay a legitimate charge will result in a punishment. Count yourself lucky that you are unharmed. You!” he said, swinging round to Grout. “Where do you usually keep this wagon?”
“Er … er … er … it’s not actually our wagon, Your Honour. We have borrowed it from a friend who lives down by the forest.”
“Right then, you had better return it then, hadn’t you? I don’t want it cluttering up this space any longer. You, woman! Get away off home.”
“But I need my things. I can’t carry them all the way over there, the other side of the river. My husband must help me. Look, it’s way over there close to that hut where the epprihouses are!”
I saw Grout relax in relief. He now knew where he would have to pretend to live.
“How stupid can women get, lads? She has no ‘things’. She’s been told twice already, but she still doesn’t get it. Just get out of my sight woman! And you, leave your wife to fend for herself for once and return this wagon to your friend. You two still owe me the Solly, so you had better start working hard to earn it. The sooner you can get on with it, the better.”
He used sign language and head gestures to indicate to his men that some of them should follow my ‘husband’. I turned, clutching my box to my chest, and set out on the remaining mark of my journey home. I used the time doing that to think hard and deeply.
Something here was fundamentally wrong. Surely no legitimate Tax Assessor would act so. He must have gone rogue, I decided. I would discuss it with the Council first thing in the morning. I had no way to find out just how bad things had got in my absence.
… … …
I walked across to the town at around midday, having checked everything I needed to of mine, but hastily. I would have to sort out some chores that Griz needed to be done in the afternoon, but really the Tax Assessor business had to be the priority.
I went first to the Messenger Office though, to send a letter down to Griz at the house in Tranidor. I was surprised to find no-one there. When I turned round outside the Office, I was shocked to see one of the unkempt men casually stroll out of the Steward’s House.
I caught sight of Master Brydas further up the road, so I decided to go straight to him.
And from him discovered what I thought of as the full extent of the horror that had descended upon us. As we were talking, the man called Brakkis drove by on a freshly-painted wagon. Something caught my eye, and I froze in mid-sentence. I actually felt myself turn pale as the blood dropped from my face. I quickly turned my head to hide that reaction from Brakkis.
“Mistress? What is it?” said Brydas with some urgency.
I invented a coughing fit and leaned quite heavily on Master Brydas’ arm, my fingers threatening to squeeze the flesh from him. He caught my warning glance and indicated his understanding as I apparently calmed down slightly. I was watching out the corner of my eye as Brakkis carried on without apparent suspicion.
As soon as he was out of earshot, I whispered urgently that we had to go indoors for some privacy. He led me to his parlour.
“Master Brydas! Did you see that wagon?”
“Aye, Mistress?”
“The tailboard was hanging down.”
“Yes mistress, but that is not unusual. Why such a reaction?”
“It was heavily scratched. And the dranakh was what attracted my attention. She has two different colours on the tips of her ears. And so I looked closely at the rig, and I’m sure there is a smear of blood on the chair, poorly cleaned up.”
I continued to explain our arrival yesterday, and we both realised that the poor wagoner Grout had probably been killed. This added an extra level to the horror as we realised just how ruthless these thugs might well be.
And how careful we would have to be.
We had maybe an advantage in that they thought the wagoneer was my husband and so would have to be careful around me, but we had to play that card very cagily. The thugs had parked the wagon and attempted to move Taneesa by force. She set up a heart-stopping thrumming that I could see scared the men badly – it certainly did me. I was hoping that Taneesa would escape the men and find refuge out there above the dam. I was so relieved when she ambled off in that direction.
… … …
Two days later, Brakkis come to my home.
He just swaggered in, without an invitation and sat down in my chair, from where he inspected my meagre belongings with a predatory glint.
“Fetch me some pel, woman.”
“Get out of our house!” I remembered just in time to change the word ‘my’ to ‘our’.
He laughed, but there was no humour in his voice. “I was waiting for the pel. I know you understood my order. Get on with it.”
“My husband will be back soon, and I’ll get him to throw you out.”
“No he won’t. We found a chore for him, and we sent him down to Dekarran. He won’t be back for at least two weeks.”
It wasn’t difficult to let my shock show and I felt a definite chill settle into the room. My heart started hammering in my chest.
“I have no intention whatsoever of giving you any house room at all. I will report you to your boss, and you will lose your job. This is an unwarranted intrusion and I will make sure you regret this.”
He laughed again. “I do like a woman with some fire. I’ll soon bring you round and you’ll learn to appreciate a real man for a change. Now get busy. It’s thirsty work this tax collecting.”
“Just get out. You are not welcome here. And don’t bother coming back.”
He stood slowly, and neared me. I drew back my hand to slap him and let fly.
He was incredibly quick.
As my hand came forward, he grabbed it and twisted my arm so it went behind my back. He pulled me to him so my breasts were crushed painfully against his shirt, a shirt that my nose told me had been worn for a week or more already. His other hand grabbed my second wrist and dragged that arm behind my back too. His stinking breath was in my nostrils as he lowered his lips to mine and pressed them hard together. I can’t describe it as a kiss. My lips were crushed against my teeth, and I felt the upper one split and blood started to run.
Holding both my wrists in one hand, still behind my back, he used the other to grope my breasts. I suspect he would have made a good baker, the way he kneaded my poor flesh. I was struggling all the time of course and screaming at him in shock, fear and anger.
He wriggled sideways slightly and resumed the attack on my chest from above, burrowing down inside my bodice. This actually was to my advantage as, by arching my back more, the bodice half-trapped his hand in place. I managed at the same time to dig a nail into the soft flesh at the base of his thumb of his other hand and that let me get a hand free as he yelled in pain. With that hand, I grabbed the front of his trousers and squeezed hard. His hands both whipped down towards his crutch so I did the best I could to use my now-free other hand to gouge out an eye. I missed, much to my dismay, but one of his hands came up in self-defence.
I could have sworn that the room got darker at that moment.
I was by now desperate as he was so much heavier than I, and I swung round, still maintaining my iron grip on his bits which made him stumble somewhat. Both his hands shot outwards as he instinctively tried to keep his balance. This gave me a few more breaths to torture his testicles and I struggled to make my longer nails do some damage.
Suddenly a fist shape appeared in the corner of my eye and a terrific blow rocked my head and blurred my vision. I felt myself falling as a foot crashed into my thigh. I feared the worst when I landed awkwardly on my back, leaving me struggling for breath.
His snarling face was inches from my own as I felt his knee force its way between my legs, my skirts having been flipped waistwards. My hands were scrabbling for something, anything to use as a weapon.
“You little ptuvil! I’m going to teach you a lesson for that! After I’ve done you, I’m going to …”
There was a dullish metallic sound and suddenly his entire weight was crushing me. A hand rolled him half sideways and I struggled out, breathing so fast I thought I would faint.
“This is an awkward situation,” said my saviour. “Will it be less trouble if we kill him, or if we let him survive? I vote for the first as he might otherwise go off and prey upon easier victims. Either way, I’m afraid you will need a new grease pan to cook with.”
“Oh GB, thank you. I feared I was lost, then. We should complain to Master Trogan. Let him deal with it.”
“Come my dear, you’re not that naïve. Trogan is no more a Master nor a Tax Assessor than you are a zinakh. These are opportunistic bandits, nothing more.”
“But I hear he has papers proving what he is.”
“Oh pssh. No official appointed by Lord Gilbanar would act like this, arriving with that many thugs in tow is a clear secretbreaker.”
“But the Council ...”
“ … Are a bunch of sawdust! Trogan was plausible for a short while, and now he has control over them all by a variety of means. His men have been importuning poor women since three days after they arrived. The people of this town just want to turn a blind eye.”
“Sometimes I get so annoyed that we are ‘mere women’. There must be something we can do.”
“Well, be careful. He knows you were involved. He didn’t see me at all, although I did block most of the light when I came in,” she giggled which made for wondrous ripples over her entire body. “And I do know men well enough that he’ll never admit to being beaten by a woman. So he mustn’t know anyone else was involved.”
“I have to discourage him somehow from returning. We can’t just kill him, it’s broad daylight and someone would be bound to see, even if I could bring myself to do it. Oh … wait a heartbeat, I have an idea …”
I thought it through rapidly and an evil giggle emerged. “I think, dear GB, that it is time to engage the assistance of my dear eppris. You know how they have fiery bites that swell and itch? Well if I was to go and fetch a hand or two, and we were to introduce them into his trousers …”
Gramobona wobbled all over again as she laughed.
But all of a sudden, she went quiet and a strange expression crossed her features.
“GB, what’s the matter?”
“Well,” she said more diffidently than I had ever seen or heard her speak before. “I … er… the thing is … Oh Maker!”
“C’mon GB. This is me. We have no secrets. What on Anmar is the matter?”
She hesitated a bit longer, the gushed out: “I have never seen a man’s you-know-what. Can I be the one to do it? Please?”
I knew immediately that I dared not laugh and managed to quell a noisy outbreak, but I could barely concentrate as I went and collected 8 or 10 of my loyal little workers.
“Where would be best? … Oooh, it’s all very ugly isn’t it? … This shrivelled little thing can do … er … you-know? Really?… Hmmm – quite soft skin mind you … Poo, what a stink! … Right, that should do it, let’s pull those breeches up quickly … Well, if you ask, me – here help with this button - I don’t know what the fuss is all about. Doesn’t look like I’ve missed out on anything … Thank you for letting me.”
We dragged him out of the house and onto my little wheeled dray I use for small loads. The walkway to the ‘outhouse’ as we had dubbed it made it easy to get the supine form to the dungheap where we left him spread-eagled on top of the most recent additions. Being the considerate people that we were, we rested his head on the damaged cooking utensil, totally ‘forgetting’ that the metal might get ever so hot in the sun …
GB waddled off back to her home before Brakkis came round again, and I sat there in the shade, keeping half an eye on the approach from town, feverishly trying to plan some way that I could help to relieve the town’s agony. A bell passed, and then two of the thugs came directly from town towards me, which told me that they knew where Brakkis had gone.
I had plenty of time to get myself into a state.
“Oh thank you for coming!” I practically sobbed. “Your fellow has been taken ill. I did my best to get him to safety, but I’m only a feeble woman. I didn’t dare leave him in case he was bitten again. Some people become ill when they’re bitten by an epp and some have even died from it, after swelling enormously. You had better fetch a healer. Oh Maker! The poor man. I don’t know what to do! Oh I’m so grateful for your help ... ” I gushed on practically tripping over my own tongue as the words vomited forth.
And I got away with it.
I suppose it helped that the rains came then, although I was worried about my children not being with me.
I pushed my luck over the next few occasions by commenting on the quality of the honey whenever Brakkis was near, and his heavy scowl was a secret reward for myself. They did however, manage to find out that Grout hadn’t been my husband – and, without confessing anything, made me understand that they had killed him. They tried to make me feel bad about that, saying it was my fault they had had to do it. However, you will remember, I had played the blame game for a lot longer than they could ever imagine.
I was worried about my family, and Griz and Boxklee down in Tranidor. I was worried about all the things we epprikeepers had to worry about. I was worried about the town and Trogan’s harsh regime. I was worried what might happen if another of them tried to force themselves upon me. (But either Brakkis warned them off, or, more likely, they were getting too busy most of the time.)
It wasn’t until the trial that we finally understood the depths they had gone to - but it was a worrying time for us all.
Almost as soon as the rains had ended their severity, a wagon appeared. Yes, there had been several other wagons arrive and all were sent away empty. I was expecting daily some response from the letters and notes I had sent but, so far, nothing happened.
This wagon was different however.
It was carrying Griz, Boxklee and my Surekha, whom I had missed dreadfully. I was again with Master Brydas trying to find some way out of our predicament, when I saw my little one’s face. I could not help myself, I ran up to the wagon park and met them there. I’m not at all sure which of us was the more emotional, but it WAS a lovely feeling to see my little one again and her tight grip assured me that she was pleased to see me as well.
By this time, the Trogan mob had established a routine for dealing with incoming wagons having learnt from some earlier mistakes. At first, the driver objected to Trogan’s exorbitant demand for the ‘Bridge Toll’, but I managed to get Boxklee’s eyes and persuaded him to pay it.
Trogan had not seen my eye-message and therefore was surprised; but there was now no reason to confiscate the contents of the wagon. The driver was ordered to help carry the personal boxes to our respective homes and I learnt that his name was Shemel.
I managed a short and quiet conversation with him to give him a warning, but he just didn’t believe that what we said was happening was in fact the truth. I tried really hard to convince him and mentioned the events of the wagoneer who had brought me up here those long weeks ago. It was mentioning the dranakh’s ears that tipped the balance my way.
“Maker! We didn’t know what happened to him. Old Grout just disappeared as far as we were concerned. But Taneesa has that colouring well enough. I’ll be very careful and get some help.”
Everything went along as expected and I breathed a sigh of relief that soon someone would know of our predicament.
I was on my way to the Smith’s when I saw some consternation amongst Trogan’s men. The thug named Pexen came running up to Trogan. By this time, Shemel was across the bridge and oblivious to events behind him. I heard Pexen explain to Trogan that Shemel had recognised him.
“Oh Maker! Right then, you guys know what has to be done.” He savagely issued some more orders but they were still said too quietly for me to hear. He swivelled back to us. “Get home you lot, go on. Get! Now!” he snarled.
We got.
It took me all evening to convince Griz and Boxklee of the facts and they were immediately worried. I discovered that they had never received any of my written messages. We debated moving all together for some safety, but I decided against that. I already had a high profile, I didn’t want to drag them into notice. It took a long while to bring them up to date, but I was buoyant knowing that we had a chance of getting a message out to bring help. And then I remembered the final scenes and my hopes plummeted again.
… … …
Griz and I held each other’s arms tightly when we saw Bildo driving a wagon up the street to the ‘camping place’. Griz nodded confirmation as to it being the one in which they had arrived.
This was the third morning after.
Poor Shemel.
I felt so sad, angry and determined all at the same time. I was also amazed; amazed to see Taneesa wander up to the wagon park where she started bleating. As soon as Shemel’s dranakh was unharnessed, he shouldered Bildo out of the way and the two went off, moving smartly towards the dam. I was pleased for the small victory, but was amazed that Taneesa had turned up just when she was wanted.
The next days passed and I could tell there was something happening. There was something in the air.
As women, we were always ignored and so we gathered together and discussed what could be done. But the advantage we had of being below consideration was our greatest drawback as well. Because we were totally ineffective. But there was a feeling of togetherness that I had never felt before.
Five nights after the ill-fated departure, my life changed.
I was woken by Surekha tugging on my arm. I was very dozy as I struggled awake. “Mama”, she hissed urgently, “there’s a dranakh trying to get in my window.”
Oh it’s been a long while since she had strange and worrying dreams. I was about to hug her to soothe her when I heard a definite dranakh bleat from outside. I threw on a housecoat, told Surekha to stay in my bed, and I crept outside. Not one but two dranakh were there, one carrying some bundle. Somehow I knew the one unencumbered was Taneesa. She tugged me gently to the other one who immediately fell to his knees and then lowered the other legs in turn until the spine was just above and next to the raised wooden walkway. I realised I was supposed to take the burden from his back.
I got my wheeled dray as the load looked quite large and moved the dray as close as possible. In the light of the stars I then started to tackle the lump.
I squealed and jumped back.
It was a human.
It flashed across my brain that the other dranakh was the one that had just arrived with ... Shemel! This must be Shemel! I tried to lift him, but couldn’t but then the dranakh sort of shrugged and he rolled off neatly onto my dray, overflowing it at each end. I rushed indoors and told Surekha to run to Griz to get help. This scenario was suddenly familiar but sufficiently different to make it seem surreal.
And then something amazing happened. When I came outside with Surekha, Taneesa offered her a ride!
I hesitated for fear that Surekha might be injured but a wave of reassurance seemed to emanate from the animal, and Surekha scrambled up, thinking this was a super adventure.
I returned to the dray, and, keeping his ends out of the way, I wheeled him gently towards the hut.
Far sooner than I could ever have hoped, I heard the dranakh returning. How Surekha had persuaded Griz to mount I have no idea, not even to this day. But she was here, and the three of us got Shemel into my bed, and with sufficient light from the oil lamps for us to see what was happening.
As soon as I saw the crossbow bolt protruding from his calf, I sent Surekha to boil some water, an old pakh farmers trick for treating bleeding injuries that seems to have better results on the animals recoveries. While she was away, Griz and I cut off the bolt at the fletched end and then pulled on the sharpened end to try to get it free. In this fashion, we tugged the bolt out of the hole. We were amazed at how much strength it required. Shemel groaned and yelped, which was a good sign, but did not regain consciousness, which wasn’t.
We washed the area with cloths as hot as we could hold and again he groaned. We did what we could and made him as comfortable as possible, knowing we would need a Healer to help. There was one in our little new-born opposition group, so we could just hope that she would keep this a secret.
Just before dawn, Griz left to go home and I tucked Surekha into her bed. I pottered around for a bit, and then felt sleepy. I stretched out on top of the sheets on my bed and promptly fell asleep.
Griz made enough noise approaching that I knew someone was with her. Someone who we shouldn’t have snooping around. I, groggily at first but improving rapidly, woke up. I knew there was some urgency required, but it seemed to me that I had been cuddling Shemel, or he me, or something. I just didn’t have time to think about it right then. I bundled up the bedclothes and thus made sure that Shemel was not easily seen.
I slipped on a dress and went outside.
There were two of them with her. I summoned up my courage and plastered on a smile.
“Mistress! We have a problem. There was a bit of a fuss last night, and we need to come to see you. You are apparently responsible.” How my smile didn’t waver, I have no idea.
“We have no honey where we live. So we need four jars of honey, immediately. And four every week. Master Trogan says this will reduce your tax debt by one Solly.” I almost laughed out loud, but handed over eight jars there and then, and ushered them away. Once they were out of earshot, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I asked Griz to go and fetch the healer, saying to anyone that Surekha needed some help. I prepared Shemel for the investigation as far as I dared.
The news was a mixture of good and bad.
His wound was infected, but not as much as other similar wounds she had treated. The upper leg was broken, but was what she called a simple fracture and would heal itself as long as it was kept still. Griz suggested tying two short planks either side of the leg and we all thought this was a good idea. It did make the leg very thick though. There was a blow to the head about which the healer was most concerned. And a lack of food and water for the past three days would not provide healing strength. However, if he woke today or tomorrow, then there was hope, otherwise it would be difficult. She said she would come every day to check.
I could go into details of each day, but that wouldn’t be interesting to your readers, so I will simply say that he awoke on the second day, I fed him some gruel and he started to improve. The healer was insistent that he walk as soon as the bone had mended and we discussed various ways we could achieve this when the time came.
There was also another factor.
Shemel explained what had happened to him and we understood the extent of our difficulties.
He had been unaware of the consternation behind him, but had already been on his guard as soon as he saw and recognised Pexen. He urged Deel, the dranakh, to a faster pace without being obvious and he made it to the forest before any pursuit was too near. Once there, he got Deel into a gallop, went about two marks and then jumped off the careering wagon onto a soft grass verge. He ran into the trees and hid as the chasing frayen went past, then he picked his way down to the water, hoping to be able to scramble along the banks. The river was still in spate this soon after the rains.
With the river to guide him, he knew he would eventually get out of the Blackstone area. He estimated he had covered about ten marks from town, had only 20 or 25 more to go. He made he reckons a further five or six before night fell. He was then close to both road and river, so he clambered up to the road and strode out, safe under the cover of darkness. He managed a further six marks before the need for sleep overtook him.
He slept in the woods, hidden from the road, hoping that he wouldn’t snore. He awoke four bells later, by his estimate. Making his way once more to the river, he caught a fish and ate it raw, slaking his thirst with the river water. Then he followed the roaring stream during the day. Again he reckoned on five or six marks of progress.
Once the sun was setting, he made his way back towards the road intending to repeat the previous night’s method. It was pure chance that he saw and heard his pursuers before they saw him. He retreated into the forest very slowly, eyes skinned on the road. He literally tripped over Fret who was using a hollow in the roots of a tree as a privy. Fret gave voice to alert the others, and Shemel took off rapidly downhill using the slope to give him some initial speed. He was nearly clear of them when he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He weaved in and out of some more trees, his leg on fire. Eventually it was too much to bear and he stumbled with a loud yell, careering off a large boulder on the river bank. The uneven ground caused him to topple into a hidden hollow behind a bush as the boulder teetered before ending in the river with a loud splash.
His pursuers gathered on the river bank and just made out, in the fading light, the bright red splash of blood on the partly-submerged boulder. Thirty strides further on, the river disappeared into a melee of tangled water and rapids. The pursuers decided that he had gone into the water and perished there. They had not seen the boulder topple in, so assumed the blood was from the body toppling onto the rock.
They left.
Falling into the hollow, Shemel had hit his head and he said the next bells were like a dream as he swam in and out of consciousness. He was aware of the sun coming up and setting again and in the meantime he had struggled up to near the road and then collapsed. Two dranakh appeared in the twilight and he remembered scrabbling up onto the back of the one he was sure was Deel, whilst the other occasionally nudged him on the bottom to help.
And that was it. He remembered no more until he woke in my bed.
Our hopes of alerting people outside the valley here had evaporated, and we were harbouring a man earmarked for death if he was discovered. That man had to exercise soon as well, so there was only one solution as far as we could see.
I donated maybe a third of a stride of hair from my tresses; they now reached the small of my back rather than my wide posterior. Griz and GB sewed the slashed off pieces into a headcloth. GB altered one of her dresses, and Shemel became a woman for the next few weeks, my crippled cousin from Tranidor who had arrived in the night on a borrowed frayen that had been released to find its way home. Her husband had died and she had underestimated the time it would take to reach me, so she made the final three bells of travel in the dark, scared witless of all the forest noises at night.
But actually no-one ever asked and that story was never required.
Shemel and I talked every evening – sometimes I would give pointers in feminine gestures and so on, but mostly about our lives and back stories.
… … …
And then our Baroness arrived, and our town was shaken out of its daze.
I attended the trial full of a fierce determination to see those thugs receive justice, but when those other girls described what they had suffered, I could bear no more, and rushed home in tears. Shemel held me as I sobbed.
“Oh, if only I hadn’t done that to Brakkis, then maybe those other girls would not have suffered so much cruelty.”
“Hush now, my love. Er … I mean cousin …” His voice trailed off and he looked guilty.
Then I realised that the growing warmth of my feelings for him was reciprocated.
I knew it was up to me, so the next night, I arranged for Griz to have some need for Surekha to stay the night there.
… … …
Oh I never knew that it could be like that!
And I knew that Shemel felt the same.
In the afterglow, he asked me a question: “What, my love, is your name? I have only ever heard you referred to as ‘Mistress’, ‘Epp’, ‘Gro’ , ‘cousin’ or, most often, as simply ‘woman’.”
I whispered it to him and for the first time ever he called me by my name.
The first time it was ever uttered aloud in Blackstone.
And it was said with such warmth that even today I get a thrill when he calls me, in that special way of his, by my full name – Megrozen.
One resident of Blackstone is observed as he goes to work in the morning, nearly every morning. But is rarely seen coming home in the evening, before publicly eating. How is this possible? A mystery to most in Blackstone, at least until Julina solves it.
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
One character used to fascinate me as I grew up. I would watch him trudge every working day from his hut, which was also to the east of town, up the slope and disappear into the Vale mouth, followed faithfully by his grenn and with his sack slung over his shoulder. Slightly stooped, his gait was distinctive — he seemed to spread his legs wider than other people do, and he swung his arms and hands strangely. Try as hard as I could, I hardly ever saw him and his grenn return of an evening.
But there they were the next day, trudging upslope again.
Papa told me that he was to be found most evenings in the Bell Inn, but not because he was a drunkard. And he was often seen late in the day walking down the main street to the Bell. I was so intrigued by this, that I became determined to discover what I could about him.
I was about 13 when I first summoned the courage to approach him and talk with him. A goodly few months later, maybe as much as a year, we had become friends enough for him to visit our home rather than the Bell on some evenings.
His name is Deegrum.
Here is his story, mostly in his words — except for the plentiful naughty ones, which I refuse to write, sometimes changing them to something like ‘blasted’.
The first few sentences will give you a flavour of our chats and also a flavour of his speech, but after that, I tidied it up a little - to save me some trouble writing it, and to save my readers some trouble reading it.
Sometimes it was extremely difficult to extract information, his answers frequently raising other questions that went unanswered; so I did get some of these answers from other people like Mostar, a journeyman with Master Blandel the mason, and Skanik, similarly a journeyman with the joiner/carpenter, Master Haldik. It was my first time actually hunting down information, and it gave me a taste ‘for the chase’ as I came to think of it.
I then decided to weave all the information I got from both him and the others into one telling.
Here then is Deegrum’s story …
… … …
“Oi don’t rightly know as to what Oi should be saying, Mistress Julina. Oi be me. B’ain’t be nobody other.”
“Maybe you could start with telling me a little about your parents, or maybe even their parents.”
“Oi never did know me grandfolk. Gone by time I c’d talk.”
“Well, what about your parents, then?”
“They were me Da and Ma.”
“Yes, I know that, but my readers might like to know more about them.”
“Like as what, Mistress?”
“Well, for example ….. what did your Da do, Deegrum, to put food on your plates?”
“Ma did most of it. Da cut blasted stuff up and then we ate.”
... ... ...
Deegrum was an only child, his mother having born two others who did not survive long. There was doubt if he would survive any longer than they, but of course he did. His slightly stary eyes were slightly scary to other children of his age but their teasing withered into nothing when he simply took no notice.
His father was the only boy in his family, with three sisters whilst his mother was one of three, with a brother and a sister. That brother had farmed pakh for years in the Bray Valley bowl but had died from a severe chill contracted in winter for which he sought no help. The sister had gone as far as Tranidor and met someone there, preferring to stay in Tranidor rather than return to the boring drudgery of Blackstone — and this was in the relatively richer years.
The father’s sisters also all went down to Tranidor, where it was considered there were more opportunities. Being the only boy, Deegrum’s father followed in his father’s footsteps, just as his father had followed his father. And so on back for untold generations. Which was indeed the path trod by Deegrum.
He started helping his father at the ripe old age of 10, and did more and more as his strength increased. His father taught him everything there was to know about how to do the job.
(Note from Julina: There was, it seemed to me, a big bit missing but that only occurred to me much later. It will be revealed in the narrative.)
In his private life, Deegrum met, wooed and married a local girl, Badelet, who, like most around here, came from a pakh herder’s family. She was known to be not the most intelligent girl around, but she had a gift for animals, and she had such a simple-minded clarity of purity that none could find it in them to scold her. She brought with her some pakh and displayed a good ability to train grennis for herding purposes, so she contributed some coin to the family coffers. Both of them were fairly adept with numbers, but neither could actually write. Deegrum also picked up a fair amount of Badelet’s art in animal handling and training, which was his main job for a year or so, his father still being quite vigorous.
Slowly, he took over from his father until he was the one doing the main job, and his father the minor parts. This was quite important to the town, as you will see. But his father was quite happy to half retire, loving, so it seemed, the sun and the open spaces around. (Eventually, when Deegrum’s mother died, the father went down to Tranidor where he helped one his sisters for a while, finally getting part-time employment as a tallyman in one of the warehouses. He died down there but Deegrum could not go to the pyre, being required in Blackstone at that time with a minor emergency in his job.)
When Badelet confirmed her pregnancy, they were both delighted and Deegrum added a small extension to their hut. This was standard practice in those days; just stamp down hard to flatten the ground, borrow a dranakh or a pair of frayen to walk to and fro towing a heavy flat-bottomed rock; if the area is affected heavily by the rains then knock in some foundation pilings; add a floor area usually of flat stones and/or wooden planks; add on three or four walls, and knock a hole in one or more of them for a door. Add on a roof, taking note of the way the existing roof slopes, and there you have it. A quick accommodation increase.
Deegrum’s world fell apart when Badelet died in childbirth, and their young daughter followed soon afterwards, Lendra and her helper healers being unable to keep the tiny thing alive.
He retreated inside of himself to a place where few could reach him and he relied upon his work to keep himself from brooding. He developed a habit of rocking forwards and backwards when sitting and sometimes smacking himself on the head. The Town Council, or Assembly as they like to be called nowadays, worried for a while, but he remained conscientious, but mostly uncommunicative. Just occasionally he would erupt and shout naughty words, but everyone soon ignored that, just thinking: “Oh, Deegrum’s off again. Should be quite quiet for a fair while now he has rid himself of that.”
You see, it was the Town Assembly who effectively paid for him to do his job. When both he and his father were doing the job, there were many disagreements in Council as to how much each should be paid. Once Deegrum was the only one, then all the coin went to him. But now his wife was gone, they reduced the coin a little.
Now that sounds harsh, but there was a reason — a fairly good reason.
With no woman at home to take care of him, the Town Assembly agreed to fund an evening meal for him, with a reasonable drink allowance, in either of the inns. Of course, once the Claw shut after the disease disaster, that meant in the Bell every evening.
For Deegrum is important to the town. He was now the last in the long, long line of dam men. Their job is to ensure the flow of water both from the dam into the stream, and also from the dam to the Cistern via the water chambers. Making sure no rocks or bushes or stone collapses or whatever block the flow.
As he walks up to the dam, he inspects the dry side of it for obvious damage or leaks, but has never seen one in all his years. Sometimes larger vegetation needs to be removed because that’s what his father told him, muttering something about stubborn roots, but Deegrum knows the stone of the dam would squeeze those roots too much for them to grow.
He starts by inspecting the two pairs of gates that let water out of the dam, one pair into the stream and the other into the first water chamber. He makes sure that the gates are still adjustable and are weed-free. There are two of these gates in each pair so that the water flow can be controlled still if one gate has to be repaired or replaced. He also regularly inspects the inside wall of the dam; on hot days he even enjoys diving in the waters, being careful of course not to be sucked into the openings. If anything needs clearing or cleaning, then he shuts the relevant gate and does the job in safety. The gates are controlled by ropes and pulleys which also need to be inspected and replaced if necessary. The gate slides need to be greased regularly.
Once he has dealt with the watery side of the dam, then he enters the collection chamber through a hidden doorway that is only visible to those who know where it is. Despite many requests, some more impassioned than others, Deegrum never takes anyone down there, claiming it is extremely dangerous. He did, however, describe this chamber very vividly.
There is a rectangular stone-lined basin into which the water flows from the dam, through a square brick tunnel. The flow ensures that this water in the basin is not still so does not grow stinkweed or the like. The outlet of the basin is where the water overlaps a sort of little wall whose top is lower than the other three sides of the basin so that larger heavy objects drop to the bottom of the basin rather than get carried further. From here, the water flows down a series of smaller but similar basins which step down a total of maybe two strides in height. All these basins need to be cleared out regularly. They collect a fair number of heavier rocks and branches (and other things that Deegrum refuses to describe) that are swept in through the dam wall. The solid windowless walls of the chamber provide a cool setting, even on the hottest of days. There are small openings right up by the roof to provide some fresh air, but they are kept small to minimise heating up.
The water leaves this chamber through a relatively narrow tunnel with an arched roof; the whole thing slopes very gently, enough just to keep the water flowing. This tunnel is less than three strides high, maybe around two and a bit. It is nearly a stride wide, with two narrow ledges running down each side, making the foot of the tunnel narrower than the upper level. These ledges are less than halfway up the total height of the tunnel. The water level is adjusted by the gate from the dam so that the depth of water is below the ledges, except in the rains when Deegrum opens the gates a little wider to relieve some of the flow down the outside stream. This means that he does not do a daily inspection in the rainy season, but never less than a weekly one, when he adjusts the gate for a lesser flow on one day and returns the next day to re-open it wider. If the rains are too heavy, then it has been known for the water to overflow the dam and for the Blackstone River to threaten its banks. In dire circumstances, Deegrum opens the door as wide as he dare, bearing always in mind that the rush is so great down the tunnel that damage can be done. Submerging the ledges can also cause problems with slippery stonework and some unevenness as material gets deposited on the normally flat surfaces.
Stooping, Deegrum walks along these ledges, one foot either side of the tunnel; whichever hand is not holding the lamp is stretched out to the roof, to provide some extra stability. He would travel thus all the way to the Cistern at the top of town. There are intermediate chambers about every half a mark along its total length of almost exactly three marks, and also some chimney-like stone towers that go up, sometimes inside the hillside itself. He said that he checks the outside of these towers every two months or so. His father had told him to make sure that there were no bushes choking the tops of them. He uses his grenn down there in the tunnel as an early warning, saying he leaves the animal at one chamber while he works his way down to the next one. Then he calls the grenn to him before setting out towards the next. If the grenn barks a warning, he reckons they have enough time to get to the next chamber and get above water level before any flood could catch them.
In all those years, he said that his lamp failed only once, but he knew his way round the chambers so well that he wasn’t in any trouble. His day consists of removing anything growing in there, the damp atmosphere being good for various things to flourish, although the darkness makes them pale, and checking for any stone decay or whatever.
Working thus, in the dark, dank and lonely tunnel is why he is rarely seen returning from the Vale of an evening.
Sometimes there might be more than usual work to be done at one or more spots and he doesn’t make it as far as the Cistern. He then exits from the depths through one of the individual chambers. Sometimes the problem may be such that he could not manage it alone, so he would then have to call in the help of either the mason or the joiner, or both. It was one of those occasions that kept him in Blackstone rather than go down to Tranidor to take leave of his father. He knew his father would approve.
Deeper questioning revealed that he did not actually understand WHY he was doing what he did, just HOW to do what he did.
( Note from Julina: Which was the bit I felt was missing)
His greatest fear is that there will be no-one to continue his work, and that the town would then starve of water. He feels himself a huge failure for not providing a son to continue. And he can never forgive himself for not being with Badelet when she needed him.
Few speak with him in the evening as most prefer light conversations to unwind from their hard days, and so he retreats further and further into himself, usually rocking on his seat in the corner. Always courteous, he talks to those who want to, but he never tells a joke, nor laughs when another does. He is always grateful for his meal and his usual two ales and is never a messy eater. But it is very difficult to get close to him. And most of his words are thickly interlaced with words less polite. Apparently he frequently bellows out every bad word he can think of when he is down below - there in his private world, where there is no-one dear to him who can be taken away - and this habit sometimes erupts when he is among company.
… … …
I think that Deegrum was the least affected of all of us in Blackstone when Trogan came, although at first there was some stupid teasing and taunting from Trogan’s men. They soon learnt that everyone around would not stand for that, whatever the consequences. Deegrum of course missed the Baroness’ entrance as he was effectively underground at the time. When I told him of the changes one morning, he just shrugged, shouldered his heavy sack, whistled for his grenn, and trudged back up to the dam.
We have noticed a slight lightening in his general mood since he started to join our family for the occasional meal. He now has a lot of time for the children of the town, even if I think I detect a brightening of moisture in his eyes as he makes more time to play with them, and he rarely uses bad words in their hearing. The children all seem to love him when they are toddlers but somehow drift away from him as they get older. He is fiercely protective of the littler ones, so maybe that is what they sense, or maybe they feel at one with his very child-like nature, adult words aside.
I know I shall miss him when he eventually goes, but for now he continues in what is really his own very private world. I think he likes the hugs he gets from each of us when he leaves our home. I secretly hope that the improvements will continue, and feel rewarded when someone notices.
Poor Deegrum, I just wish I could do more.
Just how did Master Michen become so knowledgeable about Blackstone and its surroundings? And what does he actually do?
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
When the Baroness and the Prince came down from the Vale with the shocking news of the attack, I don’t think my family realised the changes that were in store for us all. Yes, we, like many others, had heard the pronouncements and seen the demonstrations and we girls had looked into that amazing looking-glass - but we hadn’t really grasped the facts. There was an urgency about how Mylady conducted herself and it took me (and most of the others) a good few days to realise something that she herself had immediately appreciated — her days in Blackstone were numbered from that moment on. Somehow her intensity and her urgency conveyed themselves to others, and it spread.
One afternoon I was at home doing the chores and training my younger sister Kordulet, the next in age to me, to do various of them. Kords (as we called her) was named after my father, whereas I was named for my mother, Julissa. Being two years younger than I, and not having had to care for the seven of us for the past years, Kords needed to learn a lot, particularly as I was soon to be an adult and may not be there for them all should I find a sweetheart or something else happened — although neither event seemed likely to me at that time. Anyway, that afternoon we had no less than 3 events that ended up of significance to the Town. All three were so innocuous, it still amazes me to this day that there was no more fuss, no fanfare.
The first was the visit of a pair of sisters called Venna and Kalisel, who lived up in the Vale itself. Recently their parents had been making more contact with townsfolk and they were staying for a few overnights to learn the town, its people and to pick up what knowledge they could, as well as to visit their sick grandfather Hamenar who had a room in the Bell so he could be handled by the healers.
Someone (I suspect strongly that it was probably Senidet) had told them that I could help them learn their numbers and letters. I replied to them that I would be glad to, but had (then) limited time to do it in as I had a family to run. I suggested they also asked my first guide, Epp as we all called her, and suggested that both she and I could help until Master Jepp and Mylady Merizel set up the school that was being talked about. I gave them directions to Epp’s home and made sure that they understood those directions. I couldn’t forget that they were effectively strangers in our midst. They mentioned a further cousin of theirs called Renys who would also be interested. There were some boys in their family apparently, but they were younger.
It was only later that I discovered they had an elder brother too.
I discovered this when I met the Vale farmer families as a complete group. They were camping up at the campingplace, next to the Cistern, using the wagon left there by Trogan’s men as a shelter in the event of rain. As you will see, the campingplace was also where the younger adults, and soon-to-be adults, would meet to chatter, flirt and inspect each other.
We made general conversation as you do when you meet strangers, but I seemed to be engaged in a longer conversation than might be normal with Denesar, the older brother. He was counted an adult, but was still at that awkward-around-girls stage. I tried to put him at ease by asking him to describe life up there, not being able to imagine living so relatively alone; but the only things he saw from day to day were pakh, dranakh, dungheaps and chores. They rarely saw any strangers, with the possible exception of a woman who rode a frayen and seemed to be interested in insects that flew. She came fairly often, not regularly, but, without coming too near, had made it plain that she would rather be alone; and so they simply waved when they saw her, and they received a wave back. They were sort of looking out for her now they were in town, as she had not been seen since before Trogan came. I wondered who it might be as frayen-riding females were extremely rare, but Denesar could offer no description that could help me.
At that moment, my friends joined me and other subjects took over. It was obvious even to Denesar that all the girls around my age were sizing him up, wondering where this fit and muscular 16 year-old had been hiding. I was aware that I suddenly felt as if I was in a competition to win his favours. This came as quite a shock to me, I can tell you.
These friends had been the second of the three visits I mentioned earlier. I say friends, but there were only three, making, of course, a group of four of us, that I counted as actual friends and just one of those four was a reliable repository of my innermost feelings. So I suppose I should say friends and acquaintances. We had arranged to meet again two bells later, to give us a bell or so together before the evening meal. I had decided there and then that Kords would do that meal for the family for the first time on her own. I would supervise her until it was time to leave to meet the others. Papa would not be there that night, as he had resumed his duties until told otherwise by the Assembly. He told me he would stay one night at the new roadhouse, then ride quickly down to the Chaarn junction and work his way back to the roadhouse, where he would stop a further night. He would return to us on the third day after reporting his findings to the Assembly.
So the third visitor was to be disappointed.
A man I immediately recognised appeared at our door, holding the harness of a frayen. He was drawn, his face lined and he was observably weary. His arm was held across his chest by a complicated arrangement of bandages. I doubted that he could sleep peacefully with such an elaborate weave of fabric which created what were effectively bonds.
“Mistress Julina, good afternoon. Would Master Kordulen be at home?”
“Master Michen, welcome! I regret that Father is away until at least tomorrow. Perchance I may help?”
He hesitated for a moment, sufficiently long for me to realise that he really wanted a ‘man’ chat with Papa. My mind went rapidly and I realised, or at least thought I realised, what the problem might be.
“Master, why don’t you and your father eat with us this evening — we would be pleased of some company and I suspect your poor arm might be troublesome enough to make cooking awkward?”
“Well …,” he started, unable to hide the flash of relief that scampered across his face, “that wasn’t what I …”
“Oh do be so kind as to do so! We would love to hear the stories of your travels,” I gushed. “And without Father here to protect us, we would be a little less scared!” I tried to look worried and put my hands behind my back as I did a girlish sort of wiggle and peered up at him with widened eyes. I could see him draw himself up a little straighter.
“In that case, we would be delighted to be of assistance. May I leave my beast here whilst I go to inform Father?”
“Of course, you may. Put Dralla in the paddock with our other two — or would you like me to do it?”
“No, no, young mistress. I shall do it. Then I’ll go home and help Father get ready for visiting. Thank you so much.”
He led Dralla round the back as I went in to give Kords the bad news that we had two more mouths to feed in a few bells time. She was already unhappy that I had made her responsible for the entire meal for us six and she was getting grumpier by the minute. When I told her that she could start bossing around her sister Kordulissa, she brightened up a bit. I went and fetched the 11 year-old and then told Kords that we two were there to do what she commanded. Kissa pulled a face, but they knew better than to defy me and so we worked together as a team, with me just gently suggesting slight changes. This afternoon actually proved to be a huge bonus for me, because I made sure that Kords got praise (she actually swelled with pride) and Kissa herself was not only praised, but learnt quite a lot about how to plan a cooking schedule and how to cook some vegetables. And I got to sit down a lot, for which my feet were really grateful. Kords actually started volunteering for things after that day, and the two of them somehow became closer than they had been.
Before I go much further with this tale, I should perhaps point out that choosing one’s parents is not a very common option — and it is parents who choose the name by which the world will know you. Kords and I were fairly happy with the names that our parents had chosen for us, but the others cringed a little at the strange notions Papa and Mama had had.
To make it clear to you, this is the list of our family:
Papa is Kordulen and Mama was Julissa. They had a child every other year for a ten-year period.
I was first and am Julina, obviously named for Mama. At the time of writing, I am 15.
Next was Kordulet, obviously named for Papa, but with the female name ending. 13.
Next was Kordulissa, a combination of our parents’ names. 11.
Then came Jululet, another obvious combination. 9.
At last they had a son, who of course had to be named after Papa — Kordulkin. He is 7 at this moment. We girls get quite exasperated with him sometimes, as he is so totally aware that he is the eldest son, and therefore would one day be the head of the family and would then boss us around to his heart’s content. He seems to keep a mental note of when we tell him off, or order him about. Generally his demeanour is serious, but when he lets his guard down and becomes a carefree brother, he is a joy to be with.
And finally another son, our little brat, Korden. 5 years old and as cheeky as anyone. He is a funny little chap, always getting into scrapes and a real handful to look after, but such a laughter-bringer. The world is there to entertain him and with me being ten years older than him, and in charge of the daily chores around the home, I was more his mother than his sister and therefore to be involved in all his little adventures.
Anyway, to get back to the tale, I made sure we had everything needed and that everything was properly underway. I involved the other three children and got them to set the table ready for eight of us. I reminded them that Master Michen’s father was one of the oldest people in the Town and would need the most comfortable chair and be near the ‘facilities’ and so on.
Then I dropped my surprise on Kords when I told her I was going out for a bell or so. She immediately began to panic (as I knew she would) and I just calmed her by reminding her of what still had to be done was actually all underway already. She was somewhat relieved but still worried as I waved good-bye but I knew that the experience would be good for her. I was actually delighted that I could at last have just a bell to myself and as I wandered towards the campingplace, which was the meeting point for the youth of the town, I contemplated letting Kords give Julu ‘The Talk’ next year, I having already done that for both Kords and Kissa.
The time I had with the girls of my age that late afternoon, chatting and giggling while making sure no-one escaped our gaze and gently flirting with some of the boys and younger men, was like a healing cure to me - albeit far too short. What transpired at that meeting will have to wait for another tale; it will be worth waiting for, I’m certain. But I made my way back up the slope to the east to our home with a much lighter heart. So much so that a tiny part of my brain tried to say that something MUST have gone wrong in my absence.
It hadn’t, thankfully, and I reached home from one direction as our guests reached it from the other, the father leaning quite heavily upon the son’s good arm. I ushered them in first and as I followed, my eyebrows shot up. The kids had actually made it tidier (a little) than it had been, and Kissa was smiling as she ushered the men to the table where steaming mugs of pel were waiting. I was so proud of them that they had thought ahead, my approval shone from my smile and my nods; and their body language reflected my approval. This was without doubt a pivotal moment in our family, one which allowed me the extra time to start these reports. From then on, I delegated at least one main meal a week to Kords and made sure I heaped enough praise upon her that Kissa was encouraged to try to get in on the act. It was not long at all before I had three evenings a week ‘free’, half the cleaning was being done by someone else and the easier items were being washed by someone else.
I knew that all my lot knew who Master Michen was, but the frail old man with him was a stranger to the younger ones. As a result, I started the round of introductions:
“May I present my youngest brother, Korden. He is 5 years old. Next to him is my other brother, Kordulkin who is 7. My youngest sister is Jululet who is 9. Proudly waiting to serve you your pel is 11 year-old Kordulissa, and finally I present Mistress Kordulet, our cook this evening. She has done everything for the meal tonight, except the bits she delegated to Kordulissa. So don’t be thanking me, thank Kords and Kissa when you depart.”
I turned away from our guests and looked at the young ones, ignoring the red faces and glares from the two cooks. I knew that Kords was actually very proud to be addressed as ‘Mistress’ for the first time, even if it was just here in our home, but she was also embarrassed to be the centre of attention.
“Family, please welcome Master Michen, whom you well know and this is his father, Master Morden.”
The boys bowed quite properly and the girls curtsied. They all giggled in semi-embarrassment as the men politely returned the bows.
“Now Mistress Kordulissa, I believe you are in charge of the table this e’en, so where would you like us all to be seated?” (Kissa was delighted to be a ‘Mistress’ as well!)
Blushing again, but also with a nervous pride, Kissa indicated our places to us. Korden started to moan that he wasn’t in his favourite place, but a frown and a deep “Grr” from me soon shut him up. Master Michen grinned at me as we shared a smile at that. It was a strange moment because some trick of the flickering light as I looked at him made me suddenly get a fleeting but nevertheless strong glimpse of what his mother must have looked like. I blinked and the image was gone. It all happened so swiftly, I began to doubt my senses just for a heartbeat.
Both men were quick enough on the uptake to praise Kords mostly, but also Kissa; the slightly awkward start to the evening soon passed away into a more relaxed manner. We exchanged stories of our earlier years and the basic family information, but it was Master Michen who talked the most, keeping us enthralled with his tales. We slightly older ones recognised some exaggerations but the younger ones were at sometimes round-eyed in wonder, like in his fanciful tale of the hunt for a blue and green ptuvil in the ‘jungles of central Alaesia’. In the end, the younger ones were vying for the honour of cutting up his food for him, his bandaged arm making it impossible for him to do it himself.
I have attempted to remove such exaggerations and obvious tales-for-effect, and have also attempted to place most of what he said into order of years; any failings must be considered to be my failure of comprehension. The following is a compilation of what happened that evening and from other conversations I had with him over time, both before and since.
Master Morden originated in a village up-river from Tranidor in the Palar valley. This village (whose name I confess I forget) was mostly famous for the roadhouse which was one of the most popular on the entire thousand-mark Tranidor to Tel Botro trade route. It was close, apparently, to where the Palar cut through something called the ‘Stone Sea’, but that seemed impossible to me, how can a sea be made of stone? Everyone knows they are made of water. (I have, however, heard that name on more than just the one occasion, so I keep an open mind about it.) For those villagers, just like for us, the main town is Tranidor. Unlike for us, however, their main road goes straight through Tranidor, with no possibility to avoid the town — not that I could then imagine anyone wanting to avoid it.
Master Morden himself travelled widely with the wagons, having started out as a guard/labourer but had progressed to Wagontrain Master. His wife, Maldenet, came originally from Blackstone, a niece of the Bellringers, but, like many, she preferred the bustle of Tranidor to the simplicity of her home village. And it was there that she and Master Morden settled down, and where Master Michen was born. After the very difficult birth, which had some follow-up complications, she subsequently never became pregnant again. She had been convinced during her pregnancy that she was carrying a girlchild, but she was shocked when the midwife peered through squinting eyes and announced a boy. Much like our parents, they chose a name for their son that (apparently) reflected both of the parents, in that it started with an ‘M’.
Once he had retired, Master Morden and Maldenet decided to settle away from all that bustle, preferring at that stage of their lives to head for the very peace and tranquillity that she had avoided when so much younger. So they came to Blackstone, found an abandoned home that needed renovating, got permission to take the property over and settled down for their waning years, contributing to the township by helping out others when they were ill, or looking after crops when the ones responsible needed to travel to Tranidor or beyond, and so on. Master Morden had amassed a not inconsiderable fortune whilst working so hard, and yet they dressed simply and lived frugally.
Master Morden explained one bitter-sweet moment to us all that affected me personally very deeply. I paid him a lot more attention in the weeks and (few) years following, after I found out that I had been born at the exact moment Maldenet’s pyre had been lit. Apparently, he could never look at me without remembering that moment, so I made certain that I fulfilled the countryfolk’s lore that a baby is born to replace someone whose body had worn out. I had discovered that evening that Master Morden felt that maybe I was a young Meldenet come back to this world, albeit accepting it all as highly improbable if not impossible. Thus we became very close as he settled into acceptance of his fast declining months. Not that I would ever really forgive him for a major mistake he made. More of this will appear later.
Once the platters had been cleared away to leave room for elbows on the table, Master Morden claimed to be “very decently filled. Best meal for weeks!” We all knew this might actually be true, because he was by now so old that I for one was sure he would forget something important, like all old people do. I actually had quite frequently wondered if his memory was so frail, he might burn his house down by forgetting something in the oven or on the range. He had eaten maybe one quarter of a normal portion, probably less than Korden. But his cheeks had a little more colour than I had seen for weeks and he started to nod off in his chair, gently burping.
I made us all some pel and offered the men the rest of a bottle of our home-made wine. Master Morden replied to my enquiry with a gentle snore and our second guest politely declined.
Master Michen started the after-meal tale-telling with a question for me.
“Please my dear, may I call you Julina? And you call me Michen?”
I nodded my assent and he began with a quick early history of his life. He had learned his letters and numbers at his parents’ insistence. He specially emphasised that his parents had been right, and he aimed his somewhat pointed remarks at the two boys to encourage them to learn. He then continued by saying that he started out much as his father had — hired himself out as a wagon guardsman/labourer. They certainly valued him as a guard, as he was quickly observant and intelligent enough to act on his observations. And his sword wielding was quite impressive. But it was another story when it came to the labouring since it was almost too much for his lack of muscle power; his muscles had never developed as other boys’ had, for some strange reason. But his service was valuable enough as a guard for him to be retained.
On one such trip, he arrived for the first time here - the village of his mother’s birth. While here, he met one of the local girls and they seemed to ‘click’, but something made him hold back. In reflection, he said, it seemed she was too desperate to have a man that would not only be exotic to show off to her friends, but who would whisk her away from what she saw as a dead-end town. She seemed almost manic in her desperation that he felt a withdrawal growing in himself. There was also something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but although they ‘clicked’ mentally, that was as far as it went. He was comfortable in her company and that of her friends and acquaintances, in fact almost enjoyed it more than the camaraderie of the barracks, but, but, but … the definition of his discomfort eluded him. Something wasn’t quite right. (That is how he then described it anyway; more information will come to light in later chapters, though.)
Later, when I settled into documenting our town, I questioned him again about this encounter and at first he wouldn’t even mention the girl’s name. I giggled when he came scurrying over one evening after the meal and just said simply: “Jeberset”. We both knew that he had finally decided to break his silence about the name, but had waited for the woman and her son to leave this world.
His duties with the wagontrains had brought him into contact with not a few trained armsmen and he felt a need to be more manly somehow and to learn more of weapons and the like; thus he then decided to offer himself out as a recruit.
On the principle that if you want something, you go straight to the top, he travelled all the way down to Dekarran and enrolled at the castle there. Slightly older than the other recruits, and yet more slender in build, he threw himself headlong into manly pursuits and was considered one of the better in his intake. With the exception of a longbow, which he simply could not pull, he was in the top five in use with the sword, the lance and the crossbow; although he explained that the lance was really too rapidly tiring for his arms to hold for long.
( A note from ‘older Julina’ is required at this stage! --- Some of the following passages and references were totally unclear to me at that time, but I leave them unaltered as it does well to indicate my then naivety! I now understand so much better just what was being referred to, having seen much in my wide travels!)
He and a fellow recruit became very close friends; so inseparable were they that many jokes were made, and much teasing. Apparently they created a familiar name for him, to tease him with — Michet. It seemed very strange to me that this name had an ending that usually applied to girls and Michen said that he was annoyed at first. But he said he soon realised that a byname only sticks if a fuss is made about it, so he just grinned and carried on. One Harvest Festival, he played the joke back on his colleagues and dressed as a woman for the evening’s party. This was so popular apparently that he had to do it every barracks party. His father had woken some few minutes earlier and now cast him a strange glance when he explained this at our evening meal ‘party’. Kords tilted her head slightly to one side and narrowed her eyes as if trying to see what he looked like as a girl, and I had another of those tricks of the light things and again saw his mother in him. But his seemingly endless fund of tales soon distracted our thoughts away from dwelling on it.
In the course of their duties, the armsmen were dispatched to various outflung parts of Palarand, not just North Palarand. Places like the border posts with Brugan and Vardenale. And various duties up all the valleys (this is where I first learned of the Telar River and the Telar Minor which apparently join the Palar at Teldor), to Palarand City itself where he met the King and to the farthest outpost along the Chaarn road. There was also apparently a rotation in place which selected guards from various Palarandi centres to provide escort duties to ambassadors in foreign countries. He once travelled as far as Joth as a result of this policy.
He then made fantastical claims about a guardpost suspended in the sky, high above Dekarran and its castle, and that from there a sharp-eyed man on a clear day could make out Joth. This was enough to tip my balance into distrust of this part of his story, which decision was confirmed by his next assertion that the guards on this hut-in-the-sky always had to keep a lookout down below while being themselves guarded by a special guard squad keeping a lookout up above as well; he said with a straight face that often guards had been attacked there by grakh, since they were so high. The two boys listened wide-eyed and Julu was dragged along as well, but we three older ones knew he was exaggerating just to make a thrilling story of it. I was quite amazed at the imagination of the man, to come up with such a fantastical notion. And I was also amazed at the ease with which he connected to the children. So much so that I decided to allow them to stay up a little later than usual, even though I knew that tomorrow would be hard with the kids being grumpy through less sleep than normal. I doubted actually that I could have got them to go to bed without a major pitched battle, and I chose to avoid that this once.
One day, Michen then related, not so long before I was born, the detail to which he was attached was guarding both a wagon with a valuable load and also the son of the then Duke. The value of the load was sufficient to tempt some brigands to make a try for it and in the battle that followed, Michen was struck in the upper arm by a sword thrust that would otherwise have ended in the Duke’s son. He smiled when he said that, ruefully amused at the fact that it was the same as his currently injured arm. He was acclaimed a hero, and honoured by the Duke himself and by his fellows. What was the most unpleasant part of the encounter, however, was the fact that two of his colleagues died from wounds sustained in this skirmish. One of them was his best friend. This loss affected him deeply and he became withdrawn, angrily brushing away tears when they would threaten for no apparent reason.
He was still under the care of the healers when he heard about the passing of his mother, and he decided then and there to take up the offer from the Duke of an honourable retirement, with two crowns a year pension for as long as he lived, a sum which would probably allow him to buy a basic meal on each of the 391 days in a year. As a further part of his compensation, he was given the choice of a frayen to have. He chose a doe named Dralla, intending to supplement his income by breeding pack animals.
And so he came to Blackstone, pale, thin and wounded both physically and mentally — a Blackstone where his father now lived alone and a Blackstone where of course, Jeberset found another target to belittle, mistaking his withdrawnness for weakness and not actually connecting this injured, slight man with the young wagon man she had met those several years ago. Michen decided, wisely in my view, not to remind her of their earlier encounter. He laughed when I told him about what Epp had to say about her. (Much later still, he told me his ‘professional opinion’ of the crossbow skills possessed by Willen’s band of boozers. It was not flattering, to say the least.)
He assisted his father round the house but spent a lot of time alone up in the high mountain pastures and canyons. He wanted little to do with most people, although he was always polite to them, but preferred being alone, studying those things that had captured his interest. For he had marvelled whilst in his sickbed down in Dekarran at the habits and erratic flights of a tiny flying insect, brilliantly coloured, called a riddin. He knew not why (and still knows not why) it became important to him to study these riddris, but it became his abiding passion.
He now knows that they grow from an enormously tiny egg and turn into little leaf-eating tubes, mostly yellow in colour, some blue, with dozens of little legs. They start out maybe the size of a woman’s little fingernail, but when they have eaten enough to grow to the size of the top joint of a woman’s little finger, then they dig themselves tiny burrows, usually under a rocky overhang, and seem to sleep as the little legs disappear back into the body and the body turns a reddy-brown as it hardens until it looks like a sort of nut. When some time has passed, the nutty case cracks, and the most beautiful flying insect emerges, with glistening sparkly wings. Each has a different colour-scheme, some greens, some reds, some oranges, some yellows, some blues, some whites — none ever exactly the same. He made me want to see one his clouds of fluttering freshly-born flyers, flitting freely here and there, settling now on this plant or flower, now on that one. After maybe a week or so, then these go and lay a fresh tiny egg before their colours, and their lives fade away.
With enough coin to buy a meal just about when he wanted to, and with access to his father’s funds, he did not have to work for a living. He imagined he would take a year or two studying riddris and then do something more ‘normal’, but the more he learned about the subject, the more fascinated he became. And the longer he spent entirely alone, travelling the higher parts of these mountains and valleys. He would never stay away for more than a week at a time, normally just two or three nights, as he wanted to be there for his father.
He had on several occasions observed the so-called huntsmen without being seen himself, and he had no wish to strike up any acquaintance with any of them. With Willen’s passing (it was Michen who had found him, actually), the Willen band had degenerated into chaos. Two of them left after a bitter row, claiming that each had been promised the leadership. One drowned in the river in the rains, having been slightly the worse for wear after a session in the Bell and had slipped on the muddy bank on his way home. The other two lost interest when Trogan confiscated their weapons. (Later, it was Michen who picked up the contract for supplying fresh game meat to the Bell and the roadhouse, and he organised a far more efficient group to do the hunting, and the seasonal game drives.)
But during the Trogan-era, he found himself getting more and more tense for a host of reasons.
Trogan and his mob had burst in one day unannounced and looked everywhere for riches. Fortunately, the two men had hidden the greater part elsewhere, but Trogan still found just over two Crowns-worth of coin, which was confiscated ‘pending a proper assessment’. Everyone at that time, of course, still believed Trogan to be legitimate but it wasn’t long until Michen had his suspicions. Once he had voiced these suspicions, then Trogan was all for locking him up, but realised that that wouldn’t be necessary. All Trogan had to do was threaten Master Morden, and any danger that might stem from Michen was instantly neutralised.
Michen made it seem that his disability that gave him his discharge was far worse than it was, but Trogan took no chances. He forced Michen to accompany him on each house call, to name the people before they went in, and Trogan took pains to make it seem that Michen was directing him. This caused Michen some great difficulties with the townsfolk at first, until the town’s ‘unofficial’ communications told the actual story. Michen also knew that the package containing his two Crowns always arrived just before the rains, but he never saw this year’s delivery.
Once the Baroness arrived, then Michen had the opportunity of showing other, more charitable personages around the town and surrounds. Privately, he had told me never to tell anyone about the missing two Crowns, as he didn’t actually need them, and the ‘poor fund’ would be better off with them still counted as ‘unknown contributions’. Assuming Trogan hadn’t already shipped the coins out of town.
But back to our evening with our guests.
To fill a slight lull in the conversation, I mentioned that I had met the farmer families from up in the Vale that afternoon. For a few minutes, I became the centre of the conversation as I related my impressions. I caught a glance from Michen when I mentioned Denesar and Kords seemed to sharpen her attention a little, but I could not understand why either should react so. To try to divert attention back to Michen, I mentioned that the older son (see, I carefully didn’t mention his name this time — but I still got those glances) had told me of a frayen-riding woman who was interested in insects, apparently. I asked if Michen had ever seen her up in the hills when he was there, but he denied ever doing so with a strange hint of tautness in his voice. When I queried it, he pointed with his other hand to his bandages and claimed that he had had a twinge.
Shortly thereafter, the two men praised the cooks enormously, thanked them first of all, then thanked the others for making the evening so enjoyable and finally thanked me for the invitation. They claimed tiredness, old age and injuries as their reason to have to depart. But we were all told that their home was open to us at any time while they still lived there.
It was a very valuable evening for a whole number of reasons. Not just because the family I had been mothering for a number of years now had begun to stand on their own feet, not just because we had become more familiar with another family who required help, but also because the seeds were planted enabling me to have a little more time to myself.
Which led ultimately to these chronicles.
We six ‘children’ spent bells the next day going over what had been talked about and I was gratified when Papa got home and he approved of my actions. We had the two men over for a meal at least once a week after that.
But for me one of the highlights of the aftermath of that first evening was little Korden.
When Papa got home, then little Kord jumped into his arms and insisted on being the first to tell Papa all about it. Kords, Kissa, Julu and I all grinned widely as Korden explained that “Master Machet had been carried from a nest above the castle at Derrakan to the jungle by a ptuvil so they could hunt a blue and red grakh …”
When ’Kin then tried to correct Kord’s story, the result got so convoluted that we four girls all had to burst out laughing. I indicated with my eyes to Papa that I would straighten it all out for him, once the younger ones were asleep and dreaming, or, as we call it in our family, ‘connected to the moon’.
As mentioned earlier, once life after Trogan had settled down again, and before any large influx of miners could take place, it was Michen who got the contract for game meat from the Bell and the new roadhouse. From that moment on, we found a pair of brifil hanging on our back door-step’s eaves once a week, sometimes even a ganifil. But with his father failing more and more rapidly, and with the extra demands on his time with the hunting, his ‘riddris rides’ as he called them became more and more seldom.
Our freedom of the men’s house was extremely brief, however. They decided, after experiencing our hospitality, that running a house like theirs was too complex for them with their physical problems, and they needed to be nearer others who could help them rather than be stuck out in the comparative lonely parts of town. My invitation had made them see that they needed both help and more company and so an opportunity arose for them to move to a house on the Main Street, which they took some three weeks later. Shortly afterwards, their old house plot was selected for the new ‘Community Hall’ as it was the easiest place to build, the ground already being level and occupied only by a deserted house that no-one wanted any more. That house was knocked down entirely to make way for the ‘Community Hall’.
As was our house — to make way for the access roads to the new hall.
This was actually good for us, as we ended slightly nearer the town, with a larger house, and with specially designed rooms rather than rooms that had been added haphazardly as the family grew. We had a new layout, a new set of beds, and a new table and chairs. We also had a new kitchen, laundry and bath-house block, and a separate stable block. This was wonderful for me, housework becoming so much easier.
So of the three great events that affected the town that afternoon, you could argue that it was my invitation to Master Michen that gave rise to the positioning of the new hall.
Julina tells us more about some Blackstone traditions, introduces another family to us and clears up something that concerns all Palarand and maybe even all Alaesia! (A little warning — this gets quite technical!)
004 - Zytan
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
Zytan belongs to another of our long-serving families here in Blackstone. Like Deegrum, he is doing the job that his father did and his grandfather, and going back many generations. He is currently teaching his son Payner to do it; giving him all the information required as the leader, for their job requires a team. It is quite an efficient method of teaching, as Payner gets to physically do the necessary things that demonstrate what he has just been told about.
Payner is just a little younger than I, and, now that I have a little more time available thanks to my siblings doing some of the chores I used to have to do, I decided to go and ask him about what he and his family actually do. This was a quite inspired decision for both of us as it transpired, but neither of us appreciated it at first. Payner was finding it awkward to actually talk to a girl (what a shock that was to him!) and his family (more particularly, his father) were still deep in the mindset that education and technicalities were beyond womenfolk. I, on the other hand, had no experience of 12 or 13 year-old boys and found it difficult at first to establish some mutual starting point.
My advantage though was my friendship with his elder sister, a girl I had grown up with all my life, she having been born a mere three and a half weeks after me. Kellonika was one of my closer friends and had often come over to help me when I was feeling inundated with responsibilities at so young an age. When we were younger, we four specially close friends had a sort of code system to enable us to communicate. Each home had a big pole sticking up with a cross pole at the top. To either side of the cross pole, we attached a string that ran through a hook. On one string we had a big white circle of wood while on the other we had a big white triangle of wood. We hoisted each wooden shape into one of three possible positions — up, middle or down. In this way we could send up to nine different messages. If the shapes were both at the top position, then that person needed help as soon as possible. If none of the shapes were raised then that person was fine, which was the tenth message of course.
Many of the elders of the village thought it all very childish, but I can tell you we got away with a lot of mischief using those signals! And when Mama died, I was able to summon my friends when I was feeling overwhelmed. And the others could also call for help, of course. It was only later that I realised we could have doubled our number of messages by simply swapping round the shapes — one set of nine messages if the circle was on the left, and another set of nine if the triangle was on the left. And of course we could have had extra shapes to increase the number of messages, and other colours but then the system would not have been so easy to use.
We had been through much together in our short lives but Kellonika and my other two closest friends were extremely tightly bound. Young children fall sick very easily and sometimes their illnesses are fatal. There are some illnesses that make the child in question break out in strange spots all over their body and for them to sweat a lot and feel as if they were on fire. There seem to be quite a few of these ‘spotty’ types, I can think of at least three varieties just like that. Another is when the child’s face swells beneath the ears, making their neck or jaw look enormous. It has become obvious that once the child recovers from these horrors, then they never get the same thing again — it’s as if their bodies take in the illness and store it in some remote corner. Then, when it comes along again, the body says: “Wait a minute! Let me check my store cupboard. Ahah! Thought so, I have that one already so you can just move on, thank you!”
We have had a ‘make or break’ policy in Blackstone for many years. As soon as one child gets ill with one of these, then mothers with children of the same age would bring their child along and all the children would be shut up together, tended by those known to have already had that particular illness. Over the years, certain herbal concoctions have proved to be effective in battling on behalf of the poor child and it is now rare for death to come. But we four all survived a strong bout and watched in horror as the poor other two got weaker and weaker. Their pitiful cries will remain with us all our lives, as well as the grief of their parents. I have heard tales from the older women that not so long ago only one child in three survived from birth to adulthood, but nowadays, with the valuable knowledge gained by the healers, that ratio has been reversed. I suppose we survivors should also be thanked as our experiences have added to the fund of knowledge.
So I had explained to Kelly what I wanted to do and we set up something that would help me get the information I wanted, and would help Payner overcome his amazing shyness. I was also to use the stuff I had written in the gentle lessons I was giving Kelly in reading and writing. Her task was to be to read what I had written, which would be about a subject she was familiar with, and then she could improve her reading and at the same time correct some things I may have misunderstood. All these ends were achieved, although I did have a few unforeseen complications.
To get it all started, I tackled Payner and Kelly and from them I got the basics. However, it soon became apparent that I would need to get more information from the ‘boss man’, Zytan. And that was going to be difficult, I knew. He was one of those convinced that education was wasted on females, and that they were best kept out of the way.
To start to explain all of this, I need first to give you their family background.
Kronkin was the first head of their family that I remember. He left our world when I was around eight, leaving behind Dowa to look after their ‘children’, Zytan and Nuortan — one of the few families with no daughters, and both sons were by then in their twenties. Zytan had imported a daughter by bringing Malet up to the head of the Bray Valley and they all settled down in the rambling home. Nuortan, being the younger, was moved into the annexe so Kronkin and Dowa could move into his room, leaving the main family rooms for Zytan and Malet. They lost little time in adding to the heads under the roof, with Kellonika popping out under two years later. A year later, a stillbirth brought a few clouds to their existence but they took great care the following pregnancy and Payner popped out with a very healthy pair of lungs.
The period just after Kronkin went was very awkward for them with just the two men and their wives to do all their duties and the occasional week-long trips Zytan took down to Tranidor strained their abilities to the limits. They got help from several of the townsfolk, including my father and mother, which was the root of my fascination with discovering what it is the bellringers do. My final comment on their family background is that Malet was the daughter of a bellringer family in a village just out of earshot of the Tranidor bells - up the Sufen valley. She is one of six children; with living grandparents and parents, that family had more than enough members and she suspected they were relieved when she went north.
We all hear the bells, we all know what they mean, but what fascinated me was just how they knew when to ring what message. And how they got the timing right. And what was involved in being awake in the night just to ring bells. And what pressures did that create for the family. And all the other things that such activities must affect in their lives which must be so different to a more ‘normal’ existence.
The very first thing I learnt was that, to the Bellringers, it was important to differentiate between the actual metal object called a bell and the period of time we residents referred to as a bell. To the bellringers, the objects were the tools of their trade and they used them to indicate to the rest of us the passage of time. The bellringers called this length of time a ‘Bell Period’, reserving the simple word ‘bell’ wherever possible for that instrument they had to both use and maintain.
The second thing I learnt was that the Bellringers use some terms that may not be immediately apparent to others — they talk of making a sound with a bell as being a ‘strike’, they talk of an occasion when they have to make a bell strike, or a series of bell strikes, as being an ‘announcement’ and so on. I hope to remember to explain each other one as it comes up!
The third thing I gathered from Kelly, confirmed early on by Payner, was that the all-important time was dawn. Each day has a dawn and the entire cycle of bellringing starts at the dawn and goes on until the following dawn.
Such a simple statement, that!
But when we got together to discuss all this, I immediately ran into difficulty. My whole information gathering exercise was nearly brought to an end at that moment, when I asked my next question:
“Who decides then when the dawn is?”
Oh Maker! This caused great consternation.
At first, Payner’s attitude was that dawn is dawn is dawn. Everyone knows when dawn is!
But as I actually asked for the details (what defines dawn? — is it at the same time of a cycle here in Blackstone as it is in Tranidor? In Holville? In Haligo? — are mountain communities different from those downvalley? — etc. etc. etc. etc.) then an entirely new vista opened up for all three of us.
It’s not as simple as just waiting for a sliver of sunshine to appear. We are a high-mountain community. The sky can be bright and blue before we get an actual ray appearing, as some peak or other blocks the direct sunshine. And in the rains, then we may not get a ray for days and weeks. Or maybe we just get some sun in, say, the afternoon. It was while arguing over this point that Payner lost his shyness and started to state his knowledge and his viewpoint forcefully. Kelly and I noticed immediately but we didn’t say anything just then. It was also apparent that he was actually thinking about this for the first time. His education in his job had so far been limited to doing what had to be done when it had to be done. Now I was asking him to think about it all at a deeper and more fundamental level - more why rather than what.
(‘Older’ Julina says: But I also learnt a great lesson then. I learnt that some things sometimes need to be put aside for the moment; make a mental note to find out the details later on, and get on with the main theme. So I did just that then, leaving the big question about dawn until later. This lesson learnt from that moment was also to stand me in great stead later on in life.)
Payner suddenly stopped in mid-stream and started blushing when he realised that he had been quite forceful. He was immediately all gawky youth again and embarrassed, so Kelly and I both kissed him on the cheek. I hadn’t imagined that he could turn redder, but he did. It took me a good few minutes, and some hard-talking (which I was used to doing, being as how I was effectively a mother at home) but I did manage to make him understand that it was a Good Thing to state his opinions and that girls would respect him far more for it. But from that moment on, he was much easier to talk to and with. And he also realised that girls (yes, even his sister!) had perfectly functioning minds and could grasp concepts in ways that his father could never imagine them being able to do. I like to think that Payner started growing up that day, and was far more ready to adapt to the changes that our Baroness eventually brought to all Palarand.
(‘Older’ Julina says: One problem that came out of that was that Payner developed a crush on me then, which took maybe three years to go away. It was sometimes awkward to see the hurt look in his eyes when I had to deny him something or other.)
But to get back to the bells - there are two of them, each with a different tone.
You will remember that the dawn is so important. Well actually, the dawn and the following dawn — that all-important bellringer’s ‘cycle’. Well, in each cycle, there are four double bell strikes performed on the deeper-toned bell. These double deeper bell strikes are done at dawn, noon, dusk and midnight — they are sometimes referred to as the Major Moments of the cycle. They need no further adornment as everyone will know whether it is a dawn bell or a noon bell, for example. It is certainly difficult to confuse the noon Moment with the midnight Moment! If a striking sequence begins with a deep bell strike, then the listener knows immediately that this is a Bell Period announcement. Strike sequences that do not start with the deep bell indicate the quarters — struck once for one quarter, twice for two quarters and thrice for three quarters.
The whole cycle starts at the dawn announcement, which is the only one of the four that is always and definitely at the same time as the start of a Bell Period. The other three are most likely to occur between Bell Period announcements. However, the dusk announcement resets the starting of the counting of a bell.
The length of a cycle doesn’t actually change much from day to day, but, at the extremes of the year, the dawn could be as much as 2 Bell Periods nearer or farther away from the noon bell. But every cycle is split into 20 nearly equal Bell Periods, each individual Bell Period being identified by a series of rings to tell everyone where they are in the cycle. The final bell period before either dawn or dusk is usually shorter than a full one!
Which actually causes a problem, what with the dawn being the base for this system.
Dawn itself, you will remember, is announced by striking the deeper bell twice.
Each subsequent Bell Period’s announcement is started by a single strike on this deeper bell. This is a fundamentally important point to understand; whenever you hear a single strike on the deeper bell, it is signifying the start of a Bell Period. This starting strike on the deeper bell is then usually followed by one or more strikes on the higher-toned bell to complete the announcement, the higher-toned strikes telling the listener exactly where this Bell Period fits in the current cycle — the only exceptions being for the first announcement after counting begins; no further identification is required since listeners will have detected that it was not a double strike.
The original idea was then to simply use the higher-toned bell to number the Bell Periods throughout the cycle. The second Bell Period after dawn would then be started of course by a single deeper bell strike followed by a single strike on the higher bell. The Bell Period following that was to be started by the deeper bell, followed by the higher bell being struck twice, and so on. This would be therefore a very simple system, on the face of it.
However! What a dreadful din there would be for the last bell before dawn! Imagine!
A deep bell followed by eighteen high bells! How dreadful! That’s 19 bell strikes. And all at the moment when the sky always seems darkest of all, and everyone wants to snuggle closer in their bedclothes before starting their day.
To help relieve this problem, it was decided to make it so the counting of the Bell Periods is reset after the dusk announcement, thus making it theoretically two half cycles, each counting 10 Bell Periods. Of course it is not going to be exactly ten in each ‘half’ as the seasons mean the summer days are longer and the winter ones shorter.
The Dusk Announcement is sounded wherever it falls between two Bell Period announcements. Let us say that the Dusk Moment occurs between the ninth and the tenth Bell Periods after dawn — in that case the ninth would be announced as normal, followed maybe by a quarter bell or bells, then would come the Dusk Announcement. At that heartbeat, the counting of bells is reset, and the next strike shall always be the first quarter bell, and so on through the quarters until the first Bell announcement is made just like the announcement of the first Bell Period after the Dawn Announcement. It should be reinforced that this means the final Bell Period before the Dusk Announcement is almost always shorter than an actual Bell! If the Dusk Announcement, however, is to fall within a moment either way of a Bell Announcement, then that Bell Period is adjusted to finish at the Dusk Announcement.
But this proved still to be not quite enough.
Payner at this point added freewillingly some of his own knowledge to make it slightly more specific: that on the shortest day of the year, when the Town is more often than not covered in snow, he knows there are 12 Bell Periods between dusk and dawn and there are 8 between dawn and dusk.
(Of course, this is reversed on the longest day of the year.)
So, since the shortest day of the year has 12 Bell Periods between dusk and dawn, that last hour would be signalled with a deep bell strike followed by 11 high bell strikes, which would be 12 bell strikes in all!
As I pondered, both aloud and within my head, what this all meant, I could see that Payner was working hard at it too, encouraged to use his intellect by my example.
Time passed as my brain hunted feverishly through the information I had until, suddenly, it just all seemed to pop into my head. I had actually worked out for myself why we use the system we do and I smiled in delight. At this point, I could see a sudden awareness in Payner’s eyes and a beaming smile on his mouth - and for the very first time in my life, I experienced that glorious moment of satisfaction that comes from managing to encourage another person to fully realise and understand something.
Because he too now understood the reason why there was a further complication in our bell ringing. Up to that moment, he just knew that that was what they did, but had not understood why.
And just then, a little after us, Kelly ‘got’ it too.
We were all delighted at that moment, one of those rare instant bonding moments that would stay with us forever.
So what is this further complication?
What we do is we break the Bell Periods up into groups of four. The entire cycle is 20 Bell Periods long, which is five lots of four and also the longest counting period occurs at either the longest or the shortest day, with 12 Bell Periods to be accounted for — this is three lots of four. So the final method used for announcing the time uses three things in all: the deep bell, the high bell and also a pause.
And they all work together to make the Bell Period announcements follow a pattern best described as:
- A deep bell first to start a Bell Period announcement,
- followed by a number of high bells to announce which group of ‘four Bell Periods’ was relevant (this number may be zero!),
- followed by a pause,
- followed finally by the counting of the Bell Period within that group of four (this number may also be zero).
In the event (very rare) that a Bell Period starts exactly at the same moment as a Major Moment, then the Major Moment alone is sounded.
So the sequence of bell strikes for that final Bell Period before dawn on the shortest day goes as follows: Deep, high, high, pause, high, high, high — which I write as: Dhhphhh.
Thus the bell strikes are reduced to a total of six, which is a vast improvement over the 19 originally suggested.
At last we had discovered for ourselves the reasons for the bell strike system that everyone uses!
Then Payner mentioned two more refinements:
a) In the night, the bells are slightly muffled so as to be less disturbing to local residents.
b) All the quarter bells are not rung during the two Bell Periods starting two Bell Periods after the midnight bell, just the middle ones signifying the half, that is two quarters.
I had not even realised this last slight change to the normal practice. On the very few occasions I had been up at those dismal hours, I assumed that I had just skipped the quarter bells in my head.
(If you are still a little confused, dear reader, then I will tell you some examples of a complete dawn to dawn sequence of bells can be found in the 'Times and Bells' section of the Anmarian Appendices).
Payner explained, with interjected confirmations from time to time from Kelly, that the ringing duties were split between the adults in the main, there being four of them — Dowa, Zytan, Nuortan and Malet. But the women did a lot less than the men, having also housekeeping duties to perform. Zytan was the leader and it was he who prepared everything for the others. Nuortan was his assistant, ready to take over if Zytan got ill or something. Sometimes Kelly would be asked to do it, but as she was a woman, she was given only very simple tasks, whereas Payner was involved more and more as he grew and learnt.
The bells were hung in a tower which formed a triangular corner of their home. They had in fact been the inspiration for our coded message devices, as they were operated by pulling on a rope which dragged the hammer in such a way as to crash onto the bell’s rim. The hammers were balanced so that releasing the striking rope meant the hammers returned immediately to their ready positions. A further rope allowed the muffling devices to be set on the bell or to be removed as required.
All these ropes were in a chamber at the foot of the bell tower, which was also called the operating room. The bellringers responsibilities were taken very seriously and most, if not all, the timepieces that were around the room were duplicated. There were two tables of sanddroppers, one on each side of the room. This was to ensure that the bells could still be rung on time if one of the sanddroppers developed a crack, or some other disaster occurred. Payner explained that the largest part of the job was actually to constantly compare the duplicated sanddroppers with each other, and with the clock.
This clock had to be reset with its weights every seventh day. They had devised a clever system whereby they stopped the clock at a specific moment immediately after a Bell Period announcement. At that exact same time, they started a sanddropper that measured exactly one Bell Period. They then had an entire Bell Period to reset the clock weights to the top limit of their travel, to do any maintenance to the clock itself and then to reset the clock to one Bell Period later. They restarted the clock as soon as the sanddropper indicated a full bell had passed. Sometimes, clock repairs might take a little longer than just one Bell Period, so they just used the sanddroppers to measure the time while the clock was not functioning. In this way, it had become a matter of pride, the main clock was rarely more than a few moments ‘out’ when it came to one of the two times a year that it could be reliably recalibrated.
A further ‘safety’ measure that Zytan’s ancestors had built into the system was to have two sets of bells. They switched to using the other set on the first day of each month, thus ensuring that one set was not too worn too soon.
This was all I could gather from Payner and Kelly, but I still had many questions that nagged at me.
I set about engineering some way I could persuade Zytan to explain the host of other questions I had. I also wanted to ask Dowa and Malet about household arrangements in this complicated existence. I spent a long while alone trying to come up with a scheme, and then ran several possibilities past Kelly who rejected them all, sometimes laughing at their complexities. But she herself could not come up with anything that might work.
I was getting increasingly desperate when, one day, the whole thing was solved so simply I just had to laugh.
Papa said to me and the rest of the our family that he was going to insist that I had two whole days and nights to myself; that I was tired, pale and stressed and that they should all give me a period in which I could do nothing. This was to occur a minimum of every other month, and he would be displeased if my siblings did not respect my private time.
(‘Older ‘ Julina says: It was only many years later that he admitted that he had hoped I would be able to use those times to meet a young man without having to worry about the rest of my family. His hope being that then the young man would start to woo me and I would be able to begin a life for myself. We neither of us could then have imagined just how my life was to develop!)
With no chores for a day or two, it was easy to get Kellonika to ask her mother to invite me to join them for an evening meal. Malet obliged with surprising ease and I sat down with them that very afternoon. I think Malet, and maybe Dowa, were pleased to have a different face and different experiences to compare with their own. We had an animated conversation as we compared recipes, housewife tips, sewing techniques and cleaning tools and concoctions. I found out what difficulties having to be constantly prepared for the next bellringing caused in running a household and I found that the women were keen to have as many people as possible to be trained in the basics of bellringing, ‘for emergencies’.
Zytan, however, apparently guarded his work environment as something only really suitable for men (intelligent men at that) and resisted training anyone else, saying that he was not going to need anyone else. I have noticed before with other families that the women try to prepare for the worst, whilst the men tend to assume that nothing untoward will ever happen. All in all, it was wonderful for me to be able to call on my experience of running a household and to be able to discuss things knowledgeably and to contribute validly to many of our conversational topics. Maybe I asked too many questions as I tried to build a mental picture of a bellringer’s life, but Malet, I am fairly sure, knew my curiosity was burning me up, so at one moment she suddenly announced:
“Julina, it is but a hand of moments before the next Bell Period starts, which will be the last before dusk. Come with me to the operating room so you can see what we do.”
I needed no further encouragement and leapt to my feet. I failed to notice the triumphant smirk that crossed Malet’s and Dowa’s faces, but Kelly had seen it and was suddenly on her guard — all this unbeknownst to me.
(‘Older’ Julina says: It was only a long while afterwards that I realised they were hoping that their second son might become interested in me! They didn’t know that that was never going to be an option.)
We entered the chamber at the foot of the bell tower and received a scowl from Zytan. Nuortan just glanced up before going back to watch a sanddropper closely. I was about to speak when Malet indicated that I should not just yet. Both men watched carefully, not saying a word and then suddenly Nuortan moved over to the little empty table close to the where the ropes dangled. He was carefully carrying a sanddropper that I could see was close to emptying. He placed the sanddropper on the table and then went and fetched another from the table on Zytan’s side. This was just as close to emptying as the other. Nuortan carried this carefully and placed it next to the other one on the little table.
“Two one,” said Zytan.
“Confirm two one,” replied Nuortan.
“Cross-checked with the clock. Confirmed. … Four, three, two, one …”
BONG. Bing. Bing.
The sound of the deep bell was so much louder contained as it was in this chamber and the sounds of the two following strikes on the higher bell were partially lost in the reverberations of that first strike. I was aware that Nuortan this time was counting down from three, and then a single higher bell strike echoed down the tower.
As Nuorton pulled the rope to ring the final bell, Zytan turned over the two sanddroppers on the little table. Then he carried one carefully over to the table at the side of the room, by which time Nuortan had picked up the other one and carried it back to the side table it came from. Both men crossed to a cupboard on the north wall, next to where the steps that were used to access the top of the tower were attached. They both consulted a parchment containing a list which was pinned to the cupboard door. Each in turn ran his finger across a particular line, and another finger down a particular column. Then they turned to face each other. Zytan started by saying: “Dusk — two and one fifth” and this was repeated by Nuortan.
Nuortan opened the cupboard and took out two sanddroppers, handing one to Zytan saying “One fifth.”
“Confirm one fifth.”
Both men then laid these sanddroppers on their sides, one on each table.
I was determined to keep quiet until given permission to speak and the subsequent silence began to stretch somewhat awkwardly.
“So Julina,” started Malet, “the first you heard was one man saying ‘two one’ and the other man confirming it. That was the number of rings to be used to mark the Bell Period. Obviously there was a deep bell to start with, then this was followed by two strikes on the high bell, a pause and then one strike on the high bell. Hence the ‘two one’. The men confirm what is to happen before it happens just as a safety measure. It helps the accuracy. It was of course the signal for the 10th Bell.
“Then both men confirmed that the next deep bell ringing would be the dusk announcement. And that the interval before the dusk announcement would be two quarters and one fifth, as given by the list pinned to the cupboard door. Nuortan retrieved the sanddroppers that run for one fifth of a Bell Period. Both men confirmed that they had the correct sanddropper and they will be set to start after the second quarter bell is sounded. They are on their sides at the moment to indicate they will be required shortly — they will be turned empty end upwards after the first quarter bell so everything is ready for immediate use after the second quarter bell.
“If you observe each of the side tables there are four sanddroppers on each. The sandroppers at the back, the ones just replaced, are the ones that count the Bell Periods from each beginning. There are three in a row at the front of the table — reading from left to right they measure the quarter bells, one to three. All four run for exactly one Bell Period which is why their upper contents look so regular as you scan across.”
“Must you always have two people here at a time to ring the changes?”
“No — it is workable with just one. That is in fact why we have the little table in the middle that is kept mostly clear. A single operator can bring the two relevant sanddroppers to the table so they can be dealt with as soon as the message has been sent on the bells. Here in Blackstone, Zytan’s family are extremely conscientious. Some remote bellringers do not bother with the constant checking and double checking. They may even rely on just one set of timepieces. But here it is done properly and that is to be commended.”
I could see Zytan and Nuortan draw themselves up with pride as Malet had brought forth that explanation.
“It must have been so very difficult for you to manage in the days after Kronkin’s death even with Malet’s arrival — she must have been busy with the children?” I said as I turned to include Zytan and his brother.
“We developed a system that worked although at times we did wonder if we would ever find a way out of the difficulties,” said Zytan as he cast a fond glance towards Malet, who returned it with equal fondness. It was a little human moment that endeared them further to me. “Your father particularly was of immense help.”
“May I ask a question or two?” I started, looking deliberately at Zytan, who nodded but began to look a little wary.
I paused before beginning, as though I was collecting my thoughts. “If I have understood this system correctly, then the only purpose of having a signal at dusk is to indicate that the Bell Period countings will now restart? And this announcement is nearly always at a time less than a full bell period after the last? ”
I was inwardly worried about getting my opening question wrong. I didn’t want to appear as a pushy female with a level of knowledge that would worry him, but at the same time I wanted to let him know that I wasn’t just an empty-headed piece of ignorant and ignorable womanhood. There was a quick flash of surprise in his eyes but he answered me after considering his response. Albeit in a slightly condescending tone.
“I am pleased that you know enough to use the term ‘Bell Period’ correctly. I congratulate you. As for your question then I must say that the same system is employed in every community in all Palarand, and indeed in many if not all neighbouring lands of the Great Valley.” He paused, searching my face for some signal that maybe this was all beyond my capabilities. “Not all such communities are blessed with the clear air and skies that we have so frequently here. Nearly everyone here works outside or close to a window or door, so they are aware of the light fading, but in some of the towns, some of the populace work indoors, or maybe have further to go to get home after their work. They need to know when darkness is about to fall.”
I debated about asking some of the questions this explanation opened up, or whether to pose my big question, but decided to leave that for later. I would work my way up to that.
“I see. Thank you. You make that fairly clear now. I do have another question or two, if it pleases you?”
“I have to ring the quarter soon, but that is a simple procedure, so please carry on.”
Again I paused, trying to convey seriousness rather than stupidity. “I have noticed that you confirm the timings against the clock. How do you know that the clock is accurate?” I knew this information would be required whenever I did get round to my big question.
“That is something that we can be relatively sure about. You will have observed that we have this system of sanddroppers and that we check each against each other, so we are very confident that they are accurate; and every time one of the sanddroppers comes to its end, we know exactly when it started compared to the clock so we can check the clock when it finishes. We are never more than a few moments apart. Then there is a special day that occurs twice a year when we can check the settings of the clock, but that is complicated and I fear you would not understand.”
“Now then, Zytan. I wouldn’t be so sure. Julina is a knowledgable woman who has successfully run a family for some years now. She is aware of the seasons and sun phases as much as you and I,” interrupted Malet. “And don’t try to bamboozle her with long words and sentences as you sometimes try with me!”
Zytan looked both annoyed and important at the same time as he took a breath to begin his reply. But before he could answer, Nuortan said “Quarter.”
Malet grabbed my arm and took me across to the bell rope for the higher-toned bell, announcing to the room that “Julina shall ring it.”
I was suddenly nervous of pulling the rope too hard or too softly, or missing the moment but Malet and Kelly and Payner all smiled encouragingly. The men carefully brought the left-hand sanddroppers from the front rows on the side tables to the little table just by me, and we all watched them closely. My tummy muscles tensed as the countdown started and I managed to pull the rope as they got to one, meaning the bell rang on the unspoken zero. The two men flipped over the sanddroppers to start them again, and carefully carried them over to where they usually sat. When they got there, they stood the side-lying sanddroppers with empty ends up, thus ensuring that they would be ready when required.
“That was very good, dear,” said Malet. “Perhaps a heartbeat too soon, but no-one outside will have noticed.”
I couldn’t hide my delight and everyone in the room grinned back. Nuortan signalled to Zytan that he had checked the sanddropper/clock correlation successfully, and I suddenly understood that the system of checks took place every quarter. And there were three instruments involved at each check.
But the accuracy of the clock still fascinated me.
“So you fascinated me earlier, Master Zytan, with your explanation involving two special days a year and something to do with the sun. If it helps you, I can say that I understand the sun travels through the sky throughout the year, sometimes it is nearer us here in the south, sometimes it goes further away from us to the north. But I cannot work out what that has to do with your clock.”
The men finished double-checking that everything was ready for the next bell ringing and then Nuortan stood back to let Zytan have the centre.
“As you so rightly said, Mistress Julina, the sun goes north for the winter, presumably to hide from the cold. While it is away, we experience our shortest day of the year, a day when I can tell you we have just under eight Bell Periods of light and just over 12 Bell Periods of darkness. It is on this day that we Palarandis say the year starts. When the sun returns for our warmer months then we experience our longest day of the year, and the strange thing is that the times of light and dark are reversed almost exactly. Just over 12 Bell Periods of light and just under eight of dark.”
I tried hard not to show any annoyance, but what he had just said was known by even the rudest pakh farmer and had not advanced my knowledge one jot.
“As we go along the year, then the days get slowly longer and the nights slowly shorter. Half way between the shortest and the longest day, around when some early plants are sprouting and the last heavy snow is thinning, then the day and the night are of equal length. This occurs once as the days increase in length, and then again between the longest day and the shortest day as the days decrease. It is on these two days in the entire year that we can measure the moment the sun achieves its highest point in the sky, and that moment is the definition of noon in the whole of Palarand. It is a matter of pride to our family that our clock has never been more than a hand of moments off at that exact measure.”
I realised that I had been unfairly critical of Zytan earlier, because he would have no way to know what I knew and his explanation was necessary in the build-up to providing me with a fact that I had not known before. I nearly apologised to him, but realised in time that that would involve more explanations than it was worth making.
It also gave me a natural opening to get in my big question so I decided to do that right there and then.
“Well I must say that’s very interesting. But it makes me confused about something. I understand now that the clock is checked twice a year, assuming that there is no cloud about …” I saw him open his mouth to respond to that, so I hurried on. “But that only sets the noon, and I suppose therefore the midnight point is also set as it must be by definition ten Bell Periods later. But the day starts with the dawn, which is at varying times away from these fixed points as the year progresses. How is the dawn set? Who decides that? Is it the same throughout all the land?”
I stood back, waiting for some information to help us continue our earlier debate. I could see in my mind’s eye Zytan being reluctantly impressed as I queried the facts, and I saw everyone in the room being impressed as I drove the discussion onwards.
And then I was shocked.
Zytan just laughed.
“Oh that’s easy! You saw us look up the dusk moment on that chart pinned to the cupboard door. We read from that that the dusk mark tonight is one fifth of a Bell Period after the second quarter bell is rung in this current Bell Period. Well the same sheet has the dawn moments listed as well, when they need to be changed. Dawn moments, if listed at all, are always listed as a certain time after the start of the last Bell Period, and dusk moments are always listed as a certain time after the start of a specified Bell Period. It’s very simple.
Also, you should know that one dawn is almost the same as the dawn of the next day, mostly just a few heartbeats difference — for this reason, the twentieth Bell Period of any full cycle might not be exactly the same length, to the heartbeat, as most of the other full Bell Periods; we cannot count the pre-dusk bell period here, of course, for that is almost always shorter. The biggest differences in that last Bell Period before dawn come in the cycles close to those times when the days are the same length as the nights. The largest difference in a whole year of a dawn from one cycle to the next is under two moments. Some weeks, we don’t change the dawn announcement at all.”
I felt so silly, building great events in my mind that were just no more than pakh wind. But this was yet another valuable lesson to me, one that I was sure would be used often in the future.
“But where does that sheet come from? And does every community have the same sheet?”
“Oh yes. It is sent out in the name of the Royal Astronomer, who is part of the Society of Questors of Palarand. Apparently astronomers all over Alaesia gather their information and they all decide when we will have the extra days in the calendar, when adjustments are required and when are the dawn and dusk times to be used. The information is usually sent out every five or so years, with any necessary amendments being sent as and when required. In this way, all Alaesia can be kept on the same time.”
With that explanation, the whole process settled easily into my mind and I knew I had now gleaned all the information I had wanted from him. And far more easily done than I had anticipated. I almost laughed at the thought of all my unfounded fears and schemes to try to prise out the information.
They allowed me to ring the next quarter bell (two strikes of the higher-toned bell) and to watch as they rang in the Dusk announcement, about two hands of moments later.
I went over to the list pinned on the cupboard doors and studied it as we waited for the next ringing, which would be the first quarter of the Bell Period — the first one after the Dusk announcement, of course.
Finally, I left the chamber after ringing in that first quarter bell. It had been a very interesting day indeed and I left their home with a promise to come and help in the early hours of one night. I was interested to see how they managed to keep a regular ringing service throughout the night. As it happened, I never did manage to make that promise come true.
All in all, I felt I had gained a lot from this exercise. I had met a nice family as a family and I had more respect for what goes on behind the scenes of us all being kept informed of the time. I had made a good impression on Dowa and Malet, Zytan seemed to accept more and more that women can actually think and argue logically, Kelly and I were just as close as ever, and I had learned some valuable lessons. Yes Payner was going to prove to be a bit of a problem, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
I also found that with this knowledge, I could construct some fresh and interesting lessons for the little ones that were at the same time informative and a basis for further development. As a result I drew up some sample bellringing cycles, and I have had to copy these out quite often as they seem to fascinate those who want to learn numbers and letters.
Julina gets more closely involved with the town in a surprising fashion.
by Julia Phillips
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
One very memorable day, there had been a great excitement throughout the place as a huge wagon train laboured its way into town.
This was the largest wagon train ever seen in Blackstone. And yet, when I look back on that day, it was really only to be expected. Our Baroness had introduced many wonders to the town (more of these later!) and had then been attacked as she was out riding on her own lands; from that moment on, everyone was just waiting for some reaction from downvalley, without really realising it. Our first thoughts, all of us who saw it as it approached, was that it seemed highly probable that this might be at least a part of that reaction.
But this wagon train was far larger than anyone could ever remember seeing, over and above any seen back in the good pakh-wool years. It was far too big to be overlooked, even without the billowing clouds of dust. I felt quite sorry for those in the rear, and when it neared us I could see they nearly all had mouths and noses covered with scarves.
In the great throng, there were some three hands or so of soldiers dressed in colours I had never seen before, and there were also near to three hands of wagons, with associated drivers, guards and labourers. There were also some mounted men not in uniform. Of course, these numbers only became obvious after that large caravan had reached us — as yet it was too far away to be certain of who and what this was all about. It did make a very impressive sight as it ground relatively slowly towards the bridge, but the warning bugle of the town guards had, a while before, made us all bustle to get out of sight — the precautions formulated after the Trogan disaster and the later attack up in the Blackstone Vale. It afforded us more than a quarter of a bell, probably nearer half a bell, as the huge wagon train lumbered up the slope towards town. Strangers nowadays were treated with extreme caution, especially strangers in such large numbers.
By and by, the head of the procession came up the Main Street. The Baroness and the Prince, amongst others, appeared from the Claw’s courtyard and stood waiting in the middle of the street, as the huge mass of men, dranakh, frayen and wagons made their way up the slope, before coming mostly to a halt in front of the small party. Then it could be seen that some of the wagons were empty, obviously destined to join the ever-increasing flow of those taking our mined coal southwards as soon as they could, but two or maybe three of the empty ones pulled into the courtyard of the Claw. It was difficult to be sure, as the warning bugle calls had made most of those of us not necessary for defence scurry into relatively safer places wherefrom direct observation was not easy.
It soon became apparent that the soldiers were part of the wagon train for a specific reason; it was not long before the news ran around town that this train brought with it a command from the King no less for the Baroness and the Prince to return to the Palace. The troops had been sent by Lord Trosanar to escort the nobles down to Trosanar’s keep in Tranidor. Though why it was felt that the nineteen men already in town were insufficient, I could not work out for sure — probably the news of the attack had been garbled somehow and those downvalley were over-reacting.
What it meant though was that the Baroness and the Prince now had only one or two days, three at the very most, to settle everything they wanted to. This meant that many organised and hoped-for events such as my planned quick meeting with Mylady Merizel were understandably cancelled. I did manage to inform Master Jepp that I now had two hands of students that were keen to learn, and all of them were girls. He was taken considerably aback by THAT news, and paled slightly more when I added that I hadn’t even started to sound out the opinions of the boys yet.
We had heard that a new Steward had been appointed at an informal ceremony in the common room of the Ptuvil’s Claw. It was that nice man who had been here a while now, the one who also had a military bearing, and had arrived in a very unusual conveyance, part carriage and part wagon. It had come to light that he was not only the father of the Baroness' guard commander, but also a good friend of the old Steward, Mesulkin, who sadly was now too ill to continue. Our new Steward had been something important in the Royal Palace guard apparently, and quite famous as a result, although I had until then never heard of a Bleskin.
As a result of all this, we all felt somewhat reassured, particularly as there was an obvious affection between himself and the Baroness. (For a little while, the rumour was that she was his daughter — but as that directly contradicted with much that had elsewise been said about her, it was discounted fairly easily.) But to know that the Baroness held him in such regard, AND that he was a friend of the past Steward, AND that he was distantly related to Master Brydas was a great relief to us all, as it was far less likely he would be an arrogant, overbearing, greedy, grasping, inconsiderate, scheming, murderous, money-grabbing yoke about all our necks as had been the recent experience with Trogan and his pack.
The all-clear had been sounded, so folk resumed their normal activities. I was close enough to hear some of what was said between those who were obviously the principals, and saw the guard captain (referred to as a Quadrant for some reason) make a fool of himself as he addressed the wrong person as the Baroness. Surely anyone with half a brain would recognise the distinctive haircut Mylady bore?
I was just walking up Main Street past the Watch Office having been joined by Kords who had completed her commissions. We were discussing what I would be cooking for the family that evening, and how much of it we could use for the rest of the week, and that depended in a way on Father’s schedule, and …
“Well met, Mistresses Julina and Kordulet!” said Mistress Patilla as she swung her head from me to Kords in turn. She was in the company of two others, so we had been accosted by the trio of Mistresses Epp, Patilla and Hasinet.
“Well met Mistresses! What can we do for you?” I replied on our behalf
“We understand that you, Kordulet, are becoming a cook of some note nowadays?”
Kords blushed and shyly nodded her head, looking at me for approval.
“And Master Kordulen is down at the roadhouse with a work party clearing some of the road ditches, so will not be home this night?”
I started to get a little upset since I wasn’t sure I wanted our business bandied about in the middle of the High Street. But Epp, whom I trusted, gave me a little nod of encouragement and I decided to let this continue for a little while, to see where it was leading.
Kords looked at me and I nodded that she could answer. She stuttered out her reply: “That is correct, Mistress!”
“Do you think that you could do us a favour, if it pleases you?”
“Probably, Mistress,” she answered both warily and hesitantly, but without checking with me this time.
I was proud of that reply she had given, and had to grin. No outright acceptance without more information. The other women all acknowledged the wise caution.
“Well we have a little emergency that has suddenly arisen for which we require the help of Mistress Julina. Do you think that you could let her come to us in say a bell’s time? We don’t suppose we will keep her for more than a bell, at the most two. Could you manage to get the household things started while we take her away just for a short while?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. I know how to do everything now!” she positively beamed with both pride at her achievements and relief at the request seeming to be fairly simple. I suppressed a snort as I bit back a retort. I was fully aware that she had barely scratched the surface of the fund of knowledge required for running a home.
“Shemel is travelling, so we could all meet at the Epphomes, say a quarter after the next full bell?”
“As you say, Mistresses!”
We parted and I watched them scurry off to another house. There was an urgency emanating from them, which was, of course, highly intriguing. I walked home with Kords, fully occupied in my head. Half of my mind was occupied with what I had to do to get Kords up to a sufficient state to be able to do the meal, half my mind was occupied with speculating about whatever those women might want with me.
And, as everyone knows, a housewife needs more than just a whole mind, so another half of my mind was running swiftly over the list of chores to be done and which of them could be set back a while and a further half of my mind was panicking about what to wear. The rest of my mind was occupied in chatting to Kords, and making sure the other children would be controlled while I was off, and calculating how long it would take me to get from home over to Epp’s home now that the campingplace was nearly always occupied with a number of wagons and miners’ sleeping arrangements — which reminded me that we younger ones would have to find another place to gather, the campingplace being so busy nowadays, and some of the glances we girls were getting from some of the rougher miners were very uncomfortable and disturbing.
As you can readily appreciate, that walk home was something of a blur for me as I look back at it from a distance.
--- --- ---
I tried very hard not to keep smoothing my skirts as I joined the women over at Epp’s. I didn’t want to seem nervous, but I confess I was — very nervous. My poor kerchief was practically twisted to bits.
I was, of course, one of the earlier arrivals and was welcomed most sweetly by Epp, a long-time friend despite being twice my age and more. I’m sure my jaw dropped further and further open as woman after woman arrived until we were three hands or so in total. All were the most respected of women, and I asked myself for the umpteenth time just what I was doing there. Eventually, the door was shut after another arrival and this signalled a stilling of the tongues — a feat I had never seen before, so many women and none talking! All faces turned towards Epp once she had raised her hands briefly to indicate that she was ready to start whatever this was.
“Well met, all. There are apologies from Lendra and Gramobona, but otherwise we are all here. As is also Mistress Julina, I’m sure you will all have noted. She is now just a month or so shy of being an adult and we thought to bring her into our ‘circle’ just a little earlier than her adulthood as the circumstances seem to demand a certain hurriedness. As is indicated by the short notice and unseemly haste in arranging this afternoon’s get-together.
“So first let me quickly encapsulate what we know about Julina, to remind ourselves of her attributes. She has bravely, with dignity and uncomplainingly taken over the duties so sadly left behind by Julissa and has brought up her family in an exemplary fashion. She also has her basic letters and numbers and has a wise head on those young shoulders. I was proud to suggest that she would make a valuable member of our little group, and I was gratified to have received a unanimous endorsement, for which I thank you ladies.
“And, Julina, you must know that you are both a very welcome and a very valuable addition to our gatherings. We all of us understand that of course you have no idea what this is all about. I would normally take the time to explain some things and give some forewarnings. But today we are in haste. I know you as both a friend and also as a student, so I strongly suggest you do as you normally do — sit back, keep your ears and mind open, and contribute something when you feel you can. Do not be afraid of making suggestions, no-one here will laugh at you and any natural embarrassment of thinking you have made a mistake if your suggestion is not adopted will soon be a thing of the past. We search for all suggestions, and NONE is stupid. There may be reasons that the suggestion cannot be adopted that are beyond the suggester’s experience, and we will, whenever possible, explain fully.
“We are gathered here today to formulate a policy for the advancement of Blackstone itself. The haste comes because we have learnt that the Baroness and her entourage will be required to depart very soon, so we must determine if there is anything that we must have from her before then.
“So let’s start with the new Steward. What think we of him? …”
And so were my eyes opened to some real politics here in our town. These women were convinced (and with a certain amount of justification) that just leaving things to the men would mean that certain needs would be overlooked. I learnt rapidly that afternoon to expand my vision from the narrowness of home life and to apply it to a far wider sphere than I had ever imagined. Things became obvious to me that were previously just taken for granted. I was shocked to have a confirmation that there could be as many as a hand of thousands of new bodies soon to come.
And what would need to be here for them when they came?
There was a list a mark long.
Requirements ranged from bathing through housekeeping and down to laundry, passing through cooking and cleaning.
Clothing repairs as well as clothes freshly made for sale.
Bedding.
And so it went on.
Discussions were held about the best way to gain coin from these activities and how to minimise the influence of outsiders coming to steal our market from us, the original town dwellers.
And all these were the things supplied normally by women.
Other things were mentioned that were also normally supplied by women.
The group discussed very practically when (note ‘when’, not ‘whether’) a whorehouse would be required. It made sense that having such an establishment would probably reduce the number of rapes and drunken sexual advances for the townswomen and girls. I thought again of the disquiet we younger women were feeling nowadays up by our gathering place. These women even came to a conclusion about where they felt the whorehouse would be best positioned, bearing in mind always that the final decision on where to have the major workings had yet to be made.
Then there were other things not necessarily restricted to those normally associated just with women.
Candles, which also meant candlesticks.
Mining tools.
Cutlery and crockery.
Cooking utensils.
Food production and storage.
Furniture.
House building.
Animal grazing and stabling.
And a whole host more.
Were the current resources of the Town sufficient for foreseen needs? If not, had the men sent off for extra Guildsmen? Talking of which, was there any news of a new shoemaker?
There was one particular suggestion that made me prick up my ears and which ended up giving me much food for thought.
Apparently, at the height of the wool trade, there had been the two inns operating, but the common rooms got noisy and crowded, so an enterprising neighbour had opened a drinking salon in his home, where only the best behaviour was tolerated and no drunkenness allowed. Entrance was by invitation only, and if you were too disorderly, such an invitation was withheld. Food could be ordered but only a full day or more in advance. The couple that had run it were now too old to resurrect it, and were considering leaving town anyway.
These women decided that it would be the perfect thing for Master Michen to do as his father would not last much longer and Master Michen would need a job of work to avoid dwelling on his loss. His injured arm made it awkward for him to go off into the mountains alone. (When this was said, I caught a couple of the women present give each other significant glances, but had no time to enquire further on that score.) Michen and his father would also benefit from a move away from the outskirts to a town house, probably the one that had previously been the more exclusive drinking salon. Then their dilapidated house out near my family could be used as the site for this new Community Hall about which we had heard recently, which would ease the building as most of the land had already been flattened. (My eyes widened as this was all planned with absolutely no reference to all the people involved, although it was all perfectly logical and sensible. I confess I was further shocked when it all came to pass within a matter of days.)
I was however able to contribute to this conversation after my knowledge of Michen’s background, gained from that evening meal and subsequent chats. I had had the feeling that there was something else he wanted to tell me, but for some reason would only hold back on imparting this news. When I mentioned his past activities (again I caught a meaningful glance between those two women) then they all agreed that he should be the organiser of the huntsmen, even if he himself was not currently able to wield a weapon, and was unlikely to regain that ability. The conversation then passed on to who were the most reliable that could be the nucleus of Michen’s new team and a list was drawn up to be passed to him from one of the husbands. And this too came to pass within a week, even though I was absolutely convinced that Michen hadn’t even thought about it before. Somehow he was persuaded to do all this and the huntsmen were too. I felt a little guilty at first that my remarks had thrust these responsibilities upon him, but later on I could see that he actually thrived upon it, and there was a spring in his step as he walked amongst us, smiling despite the pain from his wounds.
Then the discussions changed, in a seemingly natural flow, to alternative establishments. Certainly not a subject I had ever considered up to that moment.
Where would a visiting dignitary be able to go for a quiet, well-cooked meal? As matters currently stood, there would only be the Bell, and that is anything but quiet, particularly with more and more miners and wagoneers appearing, daily it sometimes seemed. It was assumed naturally that the Ptuvil’s Claw would no longer be available in its old capacity, but maybe plans could be changed once we knew what was envisaged for it. So it was decided that another establishment would be required and a number of existing properties were suggested. The whole attitude was vaguely disquieting to me as it was as if the current occupiers had no choice in the matter. But it was still and again all perfectly logical, perfectly sensible and would bring benefits to existing citizens, so I could not really voice my vague apprehensions.
The things these people then went on and thought about, and even listed, covered every aspect of a modern life. And all of it achieved in a period of less than two bells — I had never seen such a thing, so many women, and barely an argument, barely a raised voice, barely a sharp remark.
Some of these topics they knew were on the list being used by the Baroness, and therefore also being used by the Steward and that Bezan fellow who was responsible for the town planning so that the increase in residents could be handled efficiently. We had some knowledge of these matters, having gained information from the serving girls as to some of the conversations round tables. Almost as an aside, we all agreed that this Bezan would make a good addition to the Town Council — sorry, I mean ‘Assembly’ (I keep calling it by its old name!). (‘Older’ Julina observes: See how it all started out as ‘they’ but is now ‘we’. How quickly my younger self adapted and was absorbed!)
I made several contributions from the younger ones’ points of view and was gratified that some of them were accepted, particularly the need for a safer place for us all to gather. They all nodded thoughtfully as I described the feelings we girls were now getting. I was actually quite surprised at just how much they all knew about us all, which was both a worry and yet at the same time a relief. It was agreed that the new Community Hall would be the best place in the future, but that maybe, in the meantime, we should gather down by the bridge — at the level area there where we normally had the pyres, and where Trogan and company had met their ends. I acknowledged the sense of this, but it would seem so very strange to us, because in the past we could all, mostly, just skip downhill to get home — now we would have an uphill journey which would make it seem more like work than fun.
A list of topics to be clarified if possible was drawn up, and the married ones amongst us were allocated various of those topics to be brought up by their husbands with the Baronial staff, if at all possible — otherwise later with the Steward and the Town Assembly.
The meeting drew to a close when Epp, as hostess and therefore being in charge this time, asked if anyone had any recommendations for additional members to their group. Everyone thought that Mistress Yanda’s suggestion of Mistress Sukhana at the Claw would very probably be a good addition, but as the future of the Claw was uncertain, as Mistress Sukhana was a very fresh newcomer and as it was likely that she and Master Brydas might have other more intimate things on their minds for a while, it was decided to wait until approaching her. It was also a possibility that she would depart with the Baroness, having come up to the town with her, but all there gathered felt this to be a theoretical possibility rather than a probability.
I was turning over a lot of things in my mind as I trudged homewards; homewards to a home that suddenly seemed so narrow and tiny compared with some of the topics recently discussed.
I definitely grew up that afternoon by leaps and bounds. I was sure that there would be little left for me to learn in the rest of my life. (‘Older’ Julia says: Oh the innocence of youth!)
Of course, as it transpired, not everything went as we women had planned, but a large proportion DID pan out the way the discussions had gone. It was recognised that a lot of this had to do with the fact that a woman was the one who had the ultimate control, and she, our Baroness, had indeed laid some good foundations. We later learnt that in fact Mylady had strongly suggested to the Coun… — er, Assembly - that they bring some feminine presence into their little club. I’m sure this came as a large shock to those with established views, but I have to be fair and report that at least they actually considered it, rather than just blustered and blathered prior to rejecting it out of hand.
Trogan’s period of degradations had wreaked havoc in our town and in many lives — some unfortunates having even passed away as a direct result and also some indirectly. There is a commonfolk saying that “Each cloud, however dark underneath, is in the sun above” and it seemed to me to be an appropriate saying at this time, since some good did indeed come from that awful period.
That sad episode, accompanied as it was by the arrival of the Baroness and the Prince, made us examine closely the workings of our town; how it was run, and how it should be run. We all consequently could now have confidence in the future, all the while considering all that the Baroness had suggested; the suggestions about mine location planning, the suggestions about workings disposal and the suggested ways of dealing with the predicted unprecedented expansion, all meant that we were surely to become one of the foremost organised towns in the entirety of our land. (‘Older’ Julina says: Yes we were, as it transpired. Obviously, we didn’t manage it without some mistakes, and other communities benefitted from our experiences, but, even today, we still lead the way and have become accustomed to regular visits from other communities’ town planning committees.)
Before Trogan, we had an Assembly of ten men, of whom six were able to continue, although poor Blandel was still severely weakened. Even poorer Mesulkin, our hitherto Steward, was driven beyond his endurance by his incarceration at Trogan’s hands and could no longer contribute his acknowledged skills — he is a charming man who has always carried the interests of the Town in his foremost thoughts. He indeed had garnered much respect from all the residents. The other three who had served upon the Assembly were no longer with us — Polbinar and the Watch Master had died due to Trogan’s actions, and the Shoemaker had treasoned himself with the attack on the Prince and Mylady in which he himself died. The other six who were able to continue were: Blandel, Brydas, Fedren, Jepp, Sinidar and Torin.
After that first women’s ‘circle’ meeting I had attended, then, the very next morning, Mylady had a meeting with what had now become the new Assembly:
- Bezan, a mason but with Town Planning responsibilities;
- Blandel, mason;
- Bleskin, Steward;
- Brydas, smith;
- Fedren, keeper of the Bell Inn and also this new Watch Officer, now called a ‘Sheriff’;
- Jepp, scribe;
- Selden, agent for the Messenger Service;
- Sinidar, tanner;
- Torin, carpenter;
- Yarling, miners' chief, with planning responsibilities.
This was a very clever mix of experience of Town matters, and the visionaries required for the expected expansion; long-term residents being mixed with the newcomers charged with developing the town in an orderly fashion.
At the end of this meeting, Mylady distributed the amazing things that had been delivered to her.
Brydas received the steam engine, whilst Jepp received the strange writing machine and nearly all the paper. Fedren had been elected to be the ‘Sheriff’ so he got the large telesskopp. But what was of most interest to us all of the female persuasion was the destination of that marvellous flat glass mirror. There had been many arguments and quite some barging when it was hung in the common room of the Ptuvil’s Claw, and we were all agog to know where it was going to go to, if it was to be moved at all.
Mylady had solved the problem of what to do with the Claw and with Mistress Sukhana in quite a clever way. Mistress Sukhana was granted a contract to lease the building from Mylady so she could remain in charge of it, and then Mylady had negotiated a deal with Master Tenson (or some name like that) who ran the wagon company so that the wagon company paid Mistress Sukhana to use the Claw as offices, storage and accommodation for the men, and, presumably, the occasional woman. But that meant that the Claw would no longer be a public Inn and the Common Room would not just be open as it was now — meaning the marvellous mirror would be shut away. But Mylady had even thought of that and had donated it to Yanda, via Fedren, to hang in her Common Room over at the Bell Inn. We all breathed a sigh of relief, although some were displeased to have to enter an uncouth drinking room. I grinned inwardly at that, as their long-held firm convictions that Inns were no less than dens of iniquity faded rapidly given a chance to see themselves as they presented to others. I was able to show some of my knowledge, when I reported that the secret of making flat glass had been given to the ancient town glassmaker who was overdue for retirement (and who had no apprentice to continue his craft). He would require a little assistance from the smith — but we all felt relieved to know that, sooner or later, there would be the possibility of locally produced flat glass mirrors.
So, concerning the new Assembly, all four newcomers were unmarried, whereas when we consider the members that had served on the past Assembly as well, then indeed all of these had been married; but nowadays only half of them still were, death having visited in various ways. Two of the remaining three wives were, however, in our women’s group; Yanda was married to Fedren, and Shantoona to Jepp. (‘Older’ Julina says: In the weeks and months to come, much of what was discussed in the Assembly was known to the women’s ‘circle’ (as Epp had called it) almost before the sun rose the next day.)
But there were some more formal things to be done before all that happened; principally the seamstresses had worked hard and went that afternoon to give some presents to the departing women. Myladies Garia and Merizel, of course, along with the three maids, Jenet, Jasinet and Lanilla. And finally, my friend Senidet. I was told that the Baroness was near overcome with emotion at the surprise she received, and the others were all genuinely grateful for the gifts, and, perhaps, the thoughts behind them.
We didn’t see much of the Baronial party after that, obviously they required time to pack their considerable quantity of belongings, and then be sure that everything that could be done before departure was performed. I had family duties of course, as had many others, so the afternoon faded into the evening, and from there into the night.
And so it came to pass that we all returned the next day to witness the grand departure. I suppose that we added to the chaos, since the street was barely large enough for the huge knot of people and things about to depart without having to try to accommodate a large group of onlookers.
There was one incident that made me smile as the mass of humans, frayen, dranakh and wagons blocked the town. Someone yelled out “Torin!” and two men next to each other swung round and answered. One was the town carpenter, Master Torin, and the other was one of the guards. They both laughed at that, and the guardsmen went off to do whatever his command had been. I knew that it is possible for people of the same name to come together (in fact another of Mylady’s arriving party had had the same name as one of Trogan’s thugs, if memory serves) but I had never seen two with the same name actually standing next to each other and not know what they had in common. The expressions on their faces are a treasured memory of what was actually quite a sad time.
Yes, there were quite a few tears as we townsfolk waved off the caravan of wagons that fateful morning. It seemed to me that everyone who lived within a pair of marks had found some excuse to be in town, and the sight of twelve wagons, with thirty or so mounted soldiers and some mounted tradesmen, wending its way down to and across the bridge was one that would remain long ingrained in all our minds.
The wagon train however, left behind it an almost tangible air of hope, expectation and even excitement. There were many opportunities about to appear to make most, if not all, of us considerably better off than we had been. It was up to us, each family and each individual to work together to ensure that it would happen. Some we knew wouldn’t, but we mostly already knew who they would be. All were aware that it would not be easy.
The future seemed so bright to those of us prepared to put that work in.
Julina makes more discoveries - some shocking in the extreme - as the town learns to live again without their Baroness, but prepare for some of her improvements.
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
When I started these tales, I envisaged just writing one after the other, giving glimpses in various dusty corners of my early life, and yet not getting complicated. But alas, it has not so transpired. It seems that in order to make sense of certain passages, I have to explain more and more. Earlier, I had mentioned an afternoon in which three events occurred which were of significance to the town in various ways. I had intended to just write about each of the three in turn, having started with the story of the evening we got to know Master Michen so much better. But when I started the other two stories I realised that I would have to keep breaking into the tale to explain background events and people. And so I went off to mention some of that very background before returning to those three tales. But already I see more divergences in the near future, so I have as a result had to decide that these tales will need to be intertwined with others.
For now, we have first to return in time to that momentous afternoon. I had had a visit from two sisters who lived up in the Vale and who wanted to learn some number and letter basics which started me investigating others who might like some schooling. Then I had had a visit from some friends who had persuaded me to take some time off, just a bell or so, to go with all of them to the afternoon ‘parade’ up at the campingplace where all the pre-adults and just-turned-adults of the town walk round in large circles pretending not to be sizing up all the others. There were always laughs and giggles and even some flirting, which we all enjoyed — or mostly all.
I had realised with a shock that it had been well over half a year since I had joined in the fun, so I decided there and then to go, since my next younger sister was now capable of providing an evening meal for our family. So it came to pass that I went to the camping place that afternoon, an afternoon in the period that started just after the attack on the Baroness up the Vale, and before the enormous wagon train pulled in with orders from the King for the Baroness and the Prince to return to the Palace. I had checked that Kords, my sister, had everything in hand and then told her I was leaving for a bell or so but would return for the supper. I knew she would be panicked by that announcement, but I was able to reassure her fairly easily. So for the very first time in months, I could have a bell or two to myself, with no worries about caring for my family (a housewife never actually ceases to worry, but I just pushed that to the back of my mind). And so I went just before the appointed time …
I reached the campingplace and was immediately further shocked. Normally we would have nearly all of it to ourselves, but this day there was over a half of it occupied; with many of the miners using it for their tent homes, and with more wagons than I had seen before, there were people and things dotted about all over the place.
There was of course the abandoned wagon left behind by Trogan’s mob — they had stolen it from someone they likely murdered, a poor innocent wagoneer named Grout. But they had no dranakh to haul it, after she had wandered off and never returned to them. I made a mental note to tell Epp, as she and Shemel, now very much an ‘item’, had one wagon and effectively two dranakh — maybe they could do something with it.
And there was an entire family camped around it; I suddenly recognised the two young girls who had come to visit earlier - Venna and Kalisel - and they recognised me at the same time. I think they were relieved to see someone who was not a total and complete stranger, as they came bounding over to me. I confess my heart sank, as I wanted to be able to have a carefree flirt or two and a giggle with chums, but I plastered a smile onto my face and allowed them to drag me to meet their family. They were quite charming, especially the mother, Rathina. She chatted with me for a while, introducing her husband and his somehow brother but I confess I was a little confused with the family links. There was a grandmother and a grandfather, but they weren’t married to each other, and some cousins and so on. I was trying to work out how to escape politely when Rathina tugged me aside, shooing the others away. Looking back, I was amazed just how quickly I found myself telling her of my life. I think she had that knack that only a few people have - she was a good listener. She was surprised that someone as young as I was in effect a mother, and I could feel the reappraisal happening as I added a few facts and stories.
A light seemed to dawn in her head and she suddenly grinned and said: “You have a break now from your chores, right?”
I nodded in agreement.
“And this is the first one for some time I suspect?”
Again a nod from me.
“Alright, I shall keep the younger and older family members away from you.” A wistful look crossed her face as she continued: “I did so love the passage, as we termed it, when I was your age!”
I was surprised at her insight and very grateful. I was about to throw my arms around her in appreciation when her elder son came up to ask her something. She saw my gratitude though in my eyes and smiled widely as she eased herself away from us.
And so I started chatting with Denesar. He was counted an adult, but was still at that awkward-around-girls stage. I tried to put him at ease by asking him to describe life up there, not being able to imagine living so relatively alone; but the only things he saw from day to day were pakh, dranakh, frayen, dungheaps and chores. They rarely saw any strangers, with the possible exception of a woman who rode a frayen and seemed to be interested in insects that flew, as I reported in an earlier tale.
(‘Older’ Julina says: I have taken the liberty of numbering the tales. She is referring to number 03.)
I found myself talking far longer than is usual with a stranger and didn’t really notice the time slipping by. My eyes were of course also busy, darting round here and there. At one moment, I caught sight of Rathina watching us, just as a sort of appraising questioning critical look flitted across her face. I didn’t really know what that meant – then.
I next caught sight of my friends and acquaintances; they were arriving in two or three small bunches, so I excused myself from Denesar, and went over to join them.
Only to be teased by them all as they kept eyeing Denesar, who seemed to be eyeing us. I blushed of course and vehemently denied anything was happening with him. But he was a lovely man to look at, and I secretly enjoyed all the innuendo. My own personality would wither and die though if I was to be taken up into the Vale to live out my life far away from other people, so I knew that nothing would ever come of it, but it wa … oh Maker!
It was at that moment that I recognised Rathina’s look and blushed again as I realised she was eyeing me up as a potential partner for her son! Of course, my blushes were only fodder to the teasing, but we enjoyed the giggles. I soon turned the tables though and diverted attention from myself to one of the others in my close group of four — myself, Molleena, Kellonika and Gythy (to give them all their proper names) all bound forever together by our experiences when we were much younger.
I watched as Molleena shook her wrists for the umpteenth time to get her bracelet to slither down to her wrist. She had only half a moment before raised her forearm and shaken the thing so it went nearer her elbow. She tossed her hair far more frequently than the rest of us did, and she arched her back more than we. Her eyes were the most expressive of us all, and she was attracting the attention of the boys — and she knew it. We could all see her step it up to a new level — a level that was almost shocking. Furthermore, we knew that she knew exactly what she was doing. The boys had their tongues hanging out and started to crowd us — it was like eppris to a honeypot.
“Hey sweetheart. Whatcha bovvering wiv these lads for? Two pumps and a squirt and it’s all over. Come wiv me, an’ I’ll show you what a real man can do. You’ll be singin’ in ecstasy right enuff.”
A rough, very large stranger had barged his way through the youngsters and stood addressing Molleena, ignoring all the rest of us completely. My eyes darted round as I could hear and feel the implicit violence in the air. I caught Rathina’s eyes, who seemed to take in what was happening at a mere glance. She quickly said something to her husband, Brethen. He and Brandar started towards us with intent in their eyes and some haste in their steps.
I thought quickly.
“If it pleases you, sir, we children are just having fun.” I hoped that the implied message that we were too young would get through.
His gaze switched to me: “There ain’t no way a CHILD could do those moves, so you jus’ shut your gob little one and let us adults sort this out ’twixt us.”
His creepy eyes turned back to Molleena. My heart lurched. I could see she knew exactly what she was doing and it, seemed, what she was hoping for. She wet her lips with her tongue, thrust her bosom out even further, and started twirling some of her hair around a finger. She bit her lower lip which seemed to make it swell slightly and go a shade redder. My anxiety levels shot skywards.
“Well,” she started. “A REAL man would at the very least introduce himself to start with,” she replied, an enigmatic smile on her lips. The rest of us were shocked at all sorts of levels — not least because there had been no immediate outright rejection.
“Er ... excuse me?” I said desperately, trying to use up some time for the approaching men to get near to us.
“I already told you, noisy little girl. Shut up.”
“But I really think there is something you need to know.”
“Her body told me everyfink wot I wanted to hear.”
“Yes, sir, but …” I put some desperation into my voice, which seemed to work as he switched his attention back to me.
“But wot?”
“Well, er, the thing is …”
“Last chance. Wot?”
“Her father is about thirty strides away with his brother and approaching rapidly.” I gambled on him not knowing that the men nearing us were nothing to do with Molleena, and it paid off. The man looked startled and glanced quickly at the oncoming men before taking off in the other direction, trying to look innocently nonchalant. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Which turned to anger fairly quickly after the adults turned round and went back.
“Molleena, what on Anmar were you doing? Don’t you know how dangerous that was? Not just for you, but for us as well. What if there had been more of them. We are supposed to be your friends, and yet you endangered us as well.”
She had the grace to look abashed, as she said: “Oh — I didn’t think. I didn’t want to involve you. I just couldn’t help it.” Her voice was on the point of breaking, so I grabbed her and the other two and we four went off to be a bit more private. The others knew we were a tight-knit group and left us alone, knowing that they would eventually find out what we talked about.
Except it didn’t quite work out that way.
Molleena gave a little sob, burst into tears and rushed off homewards. I started after her, but she suddenly stopped, whirled round and said: “Not now, ’Lina, not now. Soon, I promise.”
She is the one person in Blackstone to whom I can confide all my innermost feelings and my bond to her is somehow a degree stronger than it is to Gyth and Kelly. This was therefore a relief, as I knew she would never break any promise made to me. She was an only child and her parents were so proud of her, their faces shone whenever they talked about her.
We three returned to the others and just shrugged it all off, saying she wasn’t feeling well. It took maybe a quarter of a bell before the carefree attitude returned, and then my time was all laughs and giggles — even some flirting, but at a considerably lesser level.
As I made my way back across the slope to our home, I was practically skipping. In fact, I deliberately chose to go downhill for a bit, down the track parallel to the Main Street that leads to the back of the Claw, just so I could let gravity enhance my mood. I hadn’t realised just how much I had been deprived of some simple fun — it was like a healing cure to me, albeit far too short.
It was two days before Molly and I managed to have some private time and it proved to be awkward for us both at first. But it then developed in a most surprising, and at least for me, educative way.
Molly had for some time now been doing certain activities about which I knew absolutely nothing. I had thought we were closer than that and I felt quite hurt at first, but she replied that I had been so tied up with my family and some domestic emergencies, that she hadn’t wanted to add to my burden. And there had been the inbuilt awkwardnesses that Trogan’s arrival had brought in accompaniment. Which was a valid point actually. I did point out, however, that there had been plenty of opportunities later. We agreed that circumstances had cropped up, but we were glad to be back to our tight harmony again. But I could detect a change in her. There was a certain distance — no, not distance, more a vagueness — as if part of her mind was disconnected, or maybe hidden away, locked from the rest of us.
We were in her huts, her parents out tending the plants and the few pakh they had. She was sobbing as she described her battle with herself, a battle that I had no idea until then existed. She described it as a compulsion over which she had no control. I told her that I could not understand what the attraction could be.
She tried to explain it to me, but what she was describing was so far away from anything in my experience that it was obvious another method would be required just to get me to come close to understanding.
She then decided to attempt to show me and I reluctantly agreed to let her try.
This was not a scenario I had ever envisaged and it took a strong effort of will to participate. Eventually, however, the lesson started.
I allowed her to match her actions to her words as she loosened my bodice and started gently to massage my breast, gently pinching the nipple as it swelled. She then switched attention to the other one.
I had of course investigated my own body, I am not ashamed to admit — but this was the first time anyone else had laid fingers on my flesh, and I was forced to concede that it was somehow a whole lot better.
As I sank back and closed my eyes, I started by telling myself that I needed to understand Molly’s reactions, needed to understand her explanations. I forced myself not to be tense, which of course only made me tense. So I then forced myself to try my hardest to relax.
By and by, I relaxed, knowing that she would never damage me, and that I had a bell or so before I had to be anywhere.
And, I have to confess, I was really rather curious.
I treated her hands as gift-bringing friends, and I became an active participant as I learnt to be passive, if that makes sense. It was a strange release for me, to give myself over just to pleasure and it was something that from that moment on I rapidly came to enjoy; her whispered words in my ears, her nibbles on my nipples, and on my ears and on my neck. All were stirring feelings in me only previously hinted at in my lonely, necessary quiet, fumblings with myself.
Soon I was imagining however that it was someone else entirely.
The sensations were incredible and I rapidly starting enjoying it myself. When she laid her lips on mine, the timing was perfect and a shiver of shock shot through me. My lips parted of their own accord, and the blood started to pound in my body. It wasn’t long before I felt damp down there and my legs attempted to open all by themselves. My breathing was just a series of short gasps and I felt my back arch. I felt her other hand gather up my skirts and I raised myself to allow them to be bunched around my waist.
It seemed like ages later, as her assault on my lips and my breasts continued, that her finger swooped onto exactly the right spot and my body jerked. I was no longer just merely damp as my legs tried to open even wider and I felt my intimate parts thrust forward to get more, more — I must have more. Her finger knew exactly what to do, and I felt like a huge wave was building in me. I know I moaned aloud as my hands reached for her breasts to return the favour. She hissed in delight as I found a stiff nipple and I rolled it between my fingers. She clasped my thigh between her legs and started rubbing her mound against my flexing muscles.
Molly suddenly stood up, away from me. I moaned in what I discovered was extreme frustration.
“Now you know, ’Lina. That is how I feel just being near a man. Any man.”
My scattered wits tried hard to reassemble themselves. It took some time as I zig-zagged between frustration, shock, anger, amazement and wonder. And compassion.
It would be remiss of me to simply write down everything that she then told me, but I have had her permission to post the following overview — much will have to be left to your imagination!
Based upon promises made, Molly allowed herself to be seduced by Perril, the son of the then shoemaker, Jasinet’s brother. She believed his promises and actually freely gave away her virginity to him. She discovered that she adored the physical act. Coming from a very strict family, in which her father and uncles are all convinced that womenfolk are beneath them, she discovered that with sex, she had, for the first time in her life, a ‘voice’. Men actually listened to her. She was paid attention to. It was a heady discovery.
She was no longer a sub-species.
And she found she loved her body’s responses to the stimulation.
Somehow, Perril wormed his way into her mind, and she just could not say no.
She remembers listening to his voice one day after they had made love, as they were just talking about this and that. The subject got onto grakh somehow and he stood up and got something from a shelf to use to illustrate what he was saying. He stood over her as he showed her the way a grakh flew. He used a shiny metal cylinder in his hands as she looked upwards to him standing over her. He waved the shiny cylinder back and forth and she concentrated on it. His words somehow became soothing and at the same time compulsive.
That’s all she remembers of that particular encounter, she says she must have fallen asleep just after that. She thought that Perril would be angry with her, but when she woke, he had a wide smile on his face — wider than she had ever seen before. She interpreted that as a declaration of his love for her, and she said that at that very moment she fell deeply in love with him. She would do anything for him.
By this time, I had mastered my body’s reactions and was once more back in control. I understood her a lot more now, but still failed to comprehend why she was unable to control herself as I had been able to do.
But from that day on, she has been literally addicted to having sexual intimacy. And that somehow Perril became more like the men of her family, treating her as a mere chattel. She gave herself to him more frequently to try to rekindle that delicious smile she had seen, but that seemed to merely make him despise her somehow. She became desperate to please him. It was difficult of course, knowing that very little that went on was missed by someone in the village.
One day, he brought round another girl and told Molly and the other girl to make out together. They both found themselves obeying.
Another day, however, the relationship with Perril finally and drastically changed. Perril threatened to tell her parents about her unless she did what he told her to.
Which meant that soon it involved her making love with other men and watching afterwards as they paid coin to Perril. He showed his contempt for her more and more every time. This wasn’t frequent as the town gossips would have seized upon it, but Perril was surprisingly inventive when it came to explaining things away.
Occasionally, Perril would turn up with the other girl and watch as the two of them performed for him. These times were passed off as just friends visiting. Molly learnt that this other girl had fallen for the same promises and was also strangely compelled. Molly’s home was the preferred place, as she was the only one frequently alone during the afternoons, and there was only one more hut in direct view, the occupant being away every day.
She was sure that the other girl had not simply drowned in the river as everyone thought, but had taken her own life. Molly said she felt that way quite often, and yet could not bring herself to do it.
I was horrified. This was my best of best friends and I had not been there for her. She assured me that she did not blame me, she knew how hard I was working for my family, but she admitted to feeling cut off from anyone who cared. By this time, Trogan had arrived and there was very little light-hearted visiting going on anywhere anyhow.
She revealed with a very teary voice that Perril had even tried negotiating with Trogan’s men; in exchange for easy times for his family, then they could have sex with Molly whenever her parents were out. They, however, found themselves more attracted to game they had to chase and hunt, or beat into submission or take by force — not someone who was just compliant. Perril of course did all this behind his parents back, they being convinced that it was their reasonableness and sense that made their dealings with Trogan relatively peaceful compared to some. Molly could never understand why Trogan didn’t tell his parents about Perril but for some reason he didn’t, for which she was grateful — it would have been round the village in a flash.
Molly found something prevented her telling her family what was going on, and the more often she did things, the deeper her addiction and the more of a hurdle it was to confess. She broke down again at that point, saying that she wished she had come to me in the first instance, as she could tell me with no qualms.
Molly sees this time she was describing as the lowest of low points, because she just became a thing once again, an implement to be used. And Perril knew this, keeping her dangling like some puppet on strings — an entertainment he had seen on one of his Tranidor visits.
But she was still addicted to the act itself, and Perril seemed to be in her mind urging her on.
Trogan’s reign came to its violent end, and suddenly there were more people out and about. Perril’s opportunities became scarcer and this made him angry — blaming the Baroness somehow for turning his little world upside down.
Even now, she knows that Perril is dead, she knows that he can affect her no more, but still he is in her head, telling her she needs to experience those feelings again and again and again.
She knows she shouldn’t be like this, but she accepts that she is. She needs to have sex. As simple as that. Now Perril was gone, there had been no demands upon her, but she still sometimes heard Perril’s voice in her head demanding that she service some man. Sometimes, like the other night, she just had to have someone, preferably a man, but a woman would do to “take the edge off”, as she put it.
I felt really, really sorry for her, not simply because of what she had been through in the past year but also because she was being torn; her addiction was simply forcing her to do it. I did manage to extract a promise from her that she would hold back on her seduction routines when we others were around. I also got a promise that she would come to me if she encountered any difficulties. It was simply the best I could hope for.
I knew that I mustn’t hurry off, that would imply that I wanted to distance myself from her in her times of trouble. But in actuality, I wanted to distance myself from her. I had another burning question in my mind that I needed to examine in private. I managed to calm her down and she told me she felt so much better knowing that someone else knew her depths of despair. Her face lost some of the haunted look she had been bearing recently.
As I wandered away, my mind reeling from all that had happened and that I had learnt, that burning question remained in my head, nudging, nudging, nudging at my conscience. I tried to lock it away, but it refused to be shoved aside.
Why had I wished that it was Kellonika doing those things to my body?
My confusion only grew through the next few days, but I managed to control myself. Was I wanting it to have been Kelly because it was Kelly, or was it because, if it had to be a woman, then I wanted it to be Kelly rather than Molly? I knew I was still interested in men, though. I often found myself eyeing up someone. So why was I even contemplating a woman in any pairing? Was I some sort of freak?
I had plenty of distractions to aid the process of regaining normalcy, mind you. Outside of the daily distraction of running a family, we had the arrival of the giant caravan of wagons, the subsequent meeting with the women’s group, my sounding out other girls about some form of schooling, the departure of the Prince and Baroness and all their retinue and associates, and then the move of Master Michen and his father into the centre of town — a move my family all assisted.
There was the formal announcement of the appointment of Fedren to be the Sheriff, as the Watch Officer was now to be called and the formal presentation of Bleskin as the Steward. I was also involved when Bezan started to make plans for the positioning of this new Community Hall. Master Bezan had come round to discuss things with Father, as it was indeed as the women had envisaged; the Hall was most likely to be built on the site of Master Michen’s old house, now abandoned. In order to accommodate that, we and two other families would need to be moved as well. I was consulted on the layout of a new house that would be built for us, another new job that was of immense interest to me. And allowed me to do something other than that wretched self-analysis.
We had another women’s meeting and several things were agreed there, which will become apparent in some future tales.
But there was an event of major impact on my life that happened shortly thereafter. I met the woman named Swayga for the first time. I had no foreknowledge though that this would be significant, as you will see.
Father had been released from the constraints imposed by Trogan and had immediately done a quick study of his domain. You may remember that he was responsible for the roadside ditches and markers and so on, all the way from Blackstone down to the Chaarn junction. Having first examined the damages that had occurred all along the full length, he explained to me once that the most efficient way of effecting the required maintenance was to get the far end done first as the work nearer home was easier to perform and the workers could simply go out from Blackstone and return. This made sense to me, and apparently to the others involved.
This was one of the reasons that Father had spent so much time recently down at the roadhouse. When he came back home, he told us all about the amazing new design that had been suggested by the Baroness, and the good work done by Master Bezan to get it through in such a swift time and so efficiently. Most of the staff that work there had been recruited from Blackstone — this was really helpful for not a few families — but there were others that had come up from Tranidor as well. These included a brother and sister pair. His name is Steef and she is Swayga.
Master Bezan told the Staff Captain (I forget the word he used, never having heard it before, but my query elicited that there was a man in charge of the staff that worked at the roadhouse, so I call him the Staff Captain) that the Baroness had strongly suggested that all the staff there do something called ‘rotation’. This means that they are not permanently in their one little room, which might be shared with others, but that every so often, they go and work for one of the suppliers of food, or coal or animal fodder or something. Just to have a change of scenery occasionally. Say maybe every fourth week, go and spend a week doing something other than what they normally did.
So Father brought Steef and Swayga up with him, so they could learn more from Master Michen about the hunting, and from some of the farmers. We had by this time our hands full as Master Bezan was getting our new home planned, the old one obstructing a needed access route to the chosen site for the Community Hall. I was, as mentioned elsewhere, involved with the design of the layout of the new house and had spent some time with father and Master Bezan.
Our last major meeting together of that period was when Master Bezan came to share our food one evening. This ended up dropping quite a large surprise to me. The younger ones had been bundled off to bed and there was just the three of us sitting round the table.
“So Master Kordulen, I believe that we have an agreement with regard to the home for your family? Mistress Julina here has some very sensible suggestions and I am satisfied that she understands all that is involved. I must congratulate you both on an exceptionally well-brought-up family. And I have no remaining qualms about asking you to contribute your knowledge to another project that is of urgency.” He turned to me before continuing. “Mistress Julina, I would like to ask your father to spend some days, maybe as long as a week exploring for me down around the Chaarn Junction. This will mean quite a few more nights away from you. Do I have your permission to ask it of him?”
I swallowed hard before replying but realised that actually it wouldn’t be that bad, and this sounded like some sort of promotion or change of direction for Father, whose eyes were telling me he wanted to do it.
“Thank you Master Bezan for the consideration, and I’m sure I can cope. But it would be nice to know when and maybe some more details.”
“It is all actually quite simple to explain, perchance not so simple to action. As you are both aware, we foresee greatly increased traffic as more and more coal is transported down the valley. There is however a problem on the road. The uphill climb to join the Chaarn trade route, means that we cannot fully load the wagons, thus requiring more wagons and animals and also more time. Before this incline, the route is all downhill. After the road joins the Chaarn road, it is also all downhill.”
I inadvertently interrupted his speech with a deep sigh. I was immediately embarrassed.
“Why the sigh, Mistress?”
“Oh I do apologise. It’s just that I have never travelled down that road as anything other than a babe in arms, and yet I feel I know every stride from Father’s reports and from tales from others.”
“I am amazed! Surely, Master Kordulen, you have taken your family at least to Tranidor?”
“Regretfully no, Master Bezan. I have always wanted to, but when Julissa left us and poor Julina took over so well, I have not had the courage to ask her to do something that would add so to her burden.”
“And I have had no wish to disrupt Father, who works so hard for us.”
“Oh Maker! I really feel that you should see more of the valley than just this little town! I will see what I can do to arrange for somewhere for you to stay.”
“Oh Master, there’s no need for that. Mistress Epp — oh sorry, I should say Mistress Megrozen — has a house in Tranidor and she does a regular run with townsfolk. She also has a business down there that apparently produces enough for the upkeep of the house. I shall simply ask her — she is a friend and I’m sure she could fit us in sometime in the future. I wanted to wait until little Korden was a bit older — it would be easier for me then.”
“Really? That IS interesting. I have met Mistress Epp briefly. I was unaware she had a residence down there, let alone a business — why on Anmar does she stay here? I must discuss …
“Oh … forget that for now! I’ll finish first with my project description. The problem is that uphill stretch on the route. I would like to find an alternative route along which to build a new road which would cut out that incline. I have a team looking for possibilities on the other side of the river, but I thought to ask you, being the most knowledgeable in the Town, to check out the possibilities on this side of the river. The far side would involve at least one bridge across the Bray, which would add to the expense.
“The route must eventually be wide enough for say three wagons, but in the first instance we could make it so traffic going down valley only can use the new road, the old road can service the up valley traffic for the time being. Therefore, we could start with a way large enough for just one wagon and sideriders. What is very important is that there must be no sharp bends, but, having said that, it does not have to be straight. Any bends would have to be sweeping ones, that if they described a circle would be not less than an eighth, or maybe a tenth of a mark across, gentler curves being preferred.”
Father hissed a little as he acknowledged the description.
“It would be a good idea not to cut out access to existing roadhouses after the junction, but if the route chosen means that that happens, then so be it. This new route must be consistently downhill, preferably with a constant angle of descent — if that is just not possible, and I strongly suspect that it will not prove to be possible, then at the very most it can be flat in parts. No uphill stretch though, that is also of the utmost importance. If necessary we can cut out pieces of ground, and maybe use that waste to support any stretches that might need building up for whatever reason. I imagine that the total length of the piece would be about a hand of marks from where it diverges from the existing road to where it rejoins it. Maybe six or as much as seven.
“It would be nice to have some idea of possibilities before the winter sets in, as we could then start construction early in the spring of next year. I will add that eventually we expect to construct a new, wide, gently sloped, gently winding roadbed all the way from here down valley, probably as far as Haligo.”
“Maker!” breathed Father in astonishment, “there is more to this than just a road, I’ll wager.”
“You may well be right, Master. But I need not explain that just yet. Not because it’s a secret, but simply because it is very complicated and not even certain that that would be the chosen solution. But the immediate problem we have is that incline upwards on the route between here and Tranidor. Do you feel capable of doing some investigation?”
“Aye, Master Bezan. Actually I happen to know there is a network of foresters’ tracks down there. I have always wanted to explore them. Julina dear, when may I start? Let’s say I will be gone a week.”
“If you could do some of the repairs tomorrow and the day after, then I think we’ll be good after that.”
“If the repairs are not major, then why bother? We will not be here for very much longer?”
“Oh, I was forgetting for a moment. Then you just need to check the things we’ll need to have working properly for the winter. We would like to have a family dinner, just all of us, before you go off again.”
“Alright. Tomorrow evening we have Steef and Swayga coming for a meal, so then we will have a family meal the following evening. I will leave in the morning after that, with your permission, Master?”
“Certainly. That’s faster than I expected. Come and find me at the roadhouse and I will arrange for your accommodation and victuals there. And now, Mistress Julina I must thank you for a most pleasant evening, and thank you Master Kordulen for introducing me to such a wonderful family. And your home-made wine is very palatable. My thanks, and my wishes for a good night.”
So started Father’s newest project and we met Swayga and her brother Steef as a family the following evening, as will be described in the next instalment.
Wow, more amazing changes starting with so little fanfare.
Julina’s day does not start well, but then she learns a lot more about the developments in town, and she makes a new friend.
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
The next day started badly.
A strategic button had come off the dress I wanted to wear and I had to re-use the dress I had had on the previous day. I would have mended the offending button, but knew that today of all days, I had a lot to get through and didn’t want to hunt out the sewing kit, and clear the table to spread out the garment and so on - particularly as we needed the table now for breakfast. I only had four dresses, one was being washed, and one I kept for ‘best’. So I laid out yesterday’s garments, slipping a coat over my nightgown.
Then I went to get the others up, Kords was grumpily already up (in her nightclothes) rekindling the fires and boiling some water. Kissa grumped as well as she tried (vainly!) to steal another moment of sleep and Julu needed a good shake.
As for the boys! I think they could sleep through a thunderstorm raging inside their room. I spent my usual hand of moments in the usual struggle to get any sense out of just one of them. Once I reached that stage, I could leave that one to stir the other.
So I went to the bathing room and splashed my face and body. I knew winter was coming on rapidly as that water was so cold! Shivering, I ran back to my room to get dressed. The first thing that was good was that dearest Kords had hung my underthings on a rail in front of the now brightly crackling fire in the grate - it is lovely to slip into warmed undergarments on a chilly morning. I intended to have a proper bath and to wash my cascading tresses later.
And so I was finally dressed as the house stirred. They all knew to let me go and use the facilities first, as I had the most to do to prepare for them to break their fasts.
I started getting the stuff ready, when I heard a commotion out in the pasture, and rushed out to see what was going on. The neighbour’s grenn had once again got into the pakh pen and I had to chase it out - for the hundredth time this month it seemed.
I went back in and picked up the kitchen knife, ready to chop up …
“’Lina?”
“Yes, Papa?” I replied as I put down my knife and went to his door.
“Would you have time to press a tunic for me, I seem to have used up all the pressed ones already?”
“Have you checked in the second drawer? I put a pile in there only the day before yesterday,” I called through the woodwork.
“Ah. Didn’t think of looking there. Ah yes, thank you.”
I went back to the kitchen and picked up my knife again, shaking my head as I always put his pressed tunics in the second drawer.
“Juleeeeeeeeeeena?” I heard Julu’s less than dulcet tones call me.
I slammed the knife down again and went this time to her room.
“What?”
“I can’t get Kissa to wake up. I need her to help me dress.”
“Have you washed yet?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t need to get dressed yet. Kords has just left the bathroom, so hurry in there now before Papa or the boys steal in.”
“Ok, ’Lina.”
“And Kissa, I know you’re awake. I want you up and out of bed before Julu gets back. If you’re sensible, you will jump in there as she comes out, otherwise the place will be a right mess once the boys and Papa have trashed it as usual.”
I returned to the kitchen and sighed. At last I could get on with the chopping. I picked up the knife.
Then I heard: “’Lina! ’Leeeeeeeeeena! I can’t find my other shoe.”
I had been asleep in a different room for the entire night, so why little Korden should imagine I would have the faintest of clues as to the whereabouts of his footwear was totally baffling to me. And I knew he had yet to wash himself. Anyway, why couldn’t he ask his brother to help search? With a muttered “Grrrr!” I stopped what I had yet to start doing, stuck the knife point downwards into the chopping board with enough force to leave it quivering and went to the boy’s room, as I knew I would get no peace until Kord at least saw me.
I swung open the door and marched in, only to be greeted by a naked ’Kin who chose to shout at me for entering without knocking rather than hide the nakedness about which he was complaining. I ignored him until he made it clear he wasn’t going to stop.
“Enough, ’Kin! I have washed your arse and your ‘wiggly-waggly’ often enough in your life and you didn’t complain then. You heard Kord call for me, so anyone with a bit of sense would know I would have to come along. So just stop showing off and get dressed. And then, YOU help your brother find his shoe. Because I am not going to do it, now you have been so rude to me. As for you Korden,” he winced as I used his full name, “I have told you at least a hundred times not to just kick off your clothes, but to hang them up properly before going to bed. If you had indeed done as I bid, then you would know exactly where to find your stuff. I am no longer prepared to just pick up after you messy boys. If you have lost something, then YOU will have to find it - this is last time I am ever going to come running - do I make myself clear? You have no need for your shoe until you have washed and dressed and I am in the middle of preparing your breakfast. Have some more consideration, both of you!”
The door made such a satisfying din as I slammed it behind me on my way out. I think the stomps I made as I went back to the kitchen area could probably have been heard down in Tranidor. I heard little Kord start to yell at ’Kin: “You great idiot! Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made ’Lina mad and now she won’t help us in the future. You’re such a … ow! Lemmego. ’Lina! ’Leeeeeena - help, he’s hurting me. Ow! You bully. Gerroff!”
I nearly went back and have a REAL go at them, but I took a deep breath. I looked at Kords who had by now come to the kitchen to help. She saw the mood I was in. I just shook my head, and stomped out of the home and up the slope towards the entrance to Blackstone Vale. After maybe two hundred strides, well they were more stomps than strides really, I sat down on a boulder and looked out over our town and the Bray Valley, the sun just beginning to shine onto the far side. I burst into tears.
I have no idea of exactly how long I sat there, but the peace and tranquillity worked their healing magic and I started to contemplate many things, beginning with the fact that I now understood why Mama had sometimes needed time to herself. I remembered how I had felt when she just went off and felt a certain savage satisfaction that the others might get to feel the same for a little while. I was shaken out of my reverie by Deegrum and his grenn. He came up to me, laid a gentle hand on my shoulder and then passed on to his work, with not a word spoken - and yet so much communicated. The grenn sniffed my hand, allowed himself to be patted and then trotted off after his master.
I stood up, shook my dress into place and went back home - there was a dinner for nine of us to arrange for that evening, the house needed a quick clean, and the lessons for the children needed to be arranged. Papa would need to be shown what I required before he went off exploring for Master Bezan, as had been agreed last evening, and Kords needed to learn about …
When I got back home, they were all as ‘good as jewels’ as we say up here in Blackstone. The little glances they made to their father before doing anything told me that he had had some strong words. I just pretended that nothing had happened, and started bustling about, bossing them when it needed to be done.
I took Kords aside once the others had been organised and we went through the list of requirements for the dinner that night. We were a little behind schedule by then, so I got Kords to check the meat and vegetable supplies and I rushed round the store cupboards confirming what we had in them. Between us, we came up with a menu and made the suggestion to Papa, who approved of it. He gave me a strange, sad little smile and stroked my arm. I could have sworn he was about to pull me into a hug, but I squirmed away, telling him we were running a little behind time. He had twice, at least, said he wanted this dinner to be as perfect as possible; which I thought was a strange thing to say - after all, what was so special about this one as opposed, say, to last evening’s meal with Master Bezan? But my head was full of shopping lists and timetables and so on that I didn’t dwell on it, and thus I didn’t take up that thread.
We had a ganifil to be cooked, and I sent Papa to get a rack of pakh ribs - I was also planning some of the meals for the evenings that Papa was to be away, seeing if I could do some preparation for them at the same time as today’s meal. I asked Kords if she wanted to do the shopping, but she chose to let me go - probably to be sure that I got some extra time to myself. I smiled gently at her and gave her a peck on her cheek. I made a mental note to give her more time to herself in the future.
So I went into town to get the needed supplies, going there via the campingplace as it involved less slopes. I just happened to get there at the time of a relatively large kerfuffle with Denesar and his family. Master Brydas, the smith, was requisitioning the wagon that had been abandoned there by the Trogan mob and under which Denesar and his family had been camping. I felt a pang of annoyance as I had made a mental note to myself to mention it to Mistress Epp and Shemel, but had not yet done so. He needed it apparently for some experiments and had promised the men and boys of the family some small coin for their assistance. I therefore only had a few heartbeats of time to talk with Denesar, but managed a good conversation with Rathina once the menfolk had trooped off with Brydas and the wagon.
She decided to accompany me as I did my shopping and we swapped recipes and cooking methods as we sauntered around town. We nearly got run down by wagons a few times and thus we progressed by using the covered walkways, stepping into the street to allow others to pass when it was possible.
As we went, we literally bumped into Fedren, our ‘Sheriff’ - that was still a strange word to us in those days. He was just coming out of Blandel’s house and we learnt that the Master Mason was still very depressed after his treatment in Trogan’s jail. Master Fedren told us that he was starting to investigate the backgrounds of the Trogan mob and also of those that had attacked Mylady up in the Vale.
“But I don’t want to discuss that right now, I want to discuss the little incident with Molleena and the wagoneer.”
My heart sank. But I immediately realised that it was sensible, as both Rathina and I had been there.
“I must strongly recommend, Mistress Julina, that you younger ones repair down to the bridge for your gatherings, rather than use your traditional place. I know this will be a big change for you all, but I need to preserve the peace in this town, and there are ever increasing numbers of strangers coming in. Molleena’s attitude is going to inflame some passions sooner or later - sooner I feel. May I ask you as a responsible member of the group to get you all to relocate?”
I breathed a sigh of relief as it was far better than I had expected - I still had time to do something about it all. Not that I got much spare time nowadays with my housewifely duties. I had expected that I would have to lock up Molly or something, or become responsible for giving her a good talking to. It was obvious that the … Sheriff, didn’t want to involve her parents - yet!
“I can’t do that tonight, Mast ... er Sheriff. Hmmmm - what a strange title that seems! I have a dinner to cook for the family and some guests, but I should have some time after that. Master Bezan has asked Father to do a little task for him down to the Chaarn junction, so I should be able to get out tomorrow or the day after.”
“I can’t ask more than that, and thank you. Mistress Rathina, how fares it with your family?”
“Oh, thank you er … ‘Sheriff’. You’re right Julina, a very strange word to say! Most are returning up the Vale in the morning, at least that was the plan. Master Brydas has however offered the menfolk a little coin in return for assistance with some experiments which somehow involve a wagon, which has to be loaded and unloaded and have its position changed and all sorts. It all sounded most strange to me, not to say complicated.”
The Sheriff laughed. “Oh he’s just rushing through some work that Master Bezan and I particularly would like to implement as soon as possible. The Town Assembly has approved it all. Mylady suggested some construction methods using something she called ‘tresses’ - no they’re hair aren’t they? - er ... ‘trasses’ - no! ‘Trusses’ that was it. ‘Trusses’.
“It’s a way of building bridges and rooves would you believe. The campingplace is getting far too crowded as we all know and the wagon traffic in town is also reaching uncomfortable levels. What we would like to do is expand and extend the road out the other side of the campingplace, and then have it descend in a great curve round the head of the Bray Vale, eventually joining back up with the existing Chivan road some two or three marks south of town. This will naturally require a bridge to be built across the Bray farther down, so Master Brydas has built up two low stone walls across which he can balance these new ‘tress’ constructions of metal. He then places boards above to form a roadway, and he pushes a wagon onto the temporary structure to see what happens. If it supports the wagon, then he rolls it off again, loads it as heavily as he can, and then has to push the wagon back onto the structure.
“Once he has satisfied himself that it works on a bridge with end supports a mere handswidth high, then they will take it all down valley and run a proper set of tests there, on a proper bridge with proper supports that is, with dranakh and laden wagons. Make sure that the construction can cope with all the stresses required. There is a bit more to it than that, but you’ll have to get the other details from him. Once we know that we have a stable and strong bridge then the roadbed can be constructed. Also, it appears that this structure, if successful, can be used for the roofing at the new Community Hall, which is our priority construction - and possibly elsewhere, like any new public bathhouse and so on. It combines lightness of construction with strength and could make vast changes to how we build things in the future. But I'm not an engineer. You'll have to ask them.
“Master Bezan reckons there might be as much as a hand, or even more, of marks of extra road to be built. We want the tests done as soon as we can, because the construction will probably be delayed by the winter. If it becomes necessary to amend the design, then the tests can be done on the pretend bridge at the smith’s to minimise the delays in starting in the Spring. The approach roads to the selected site for the new bridge are already being made, so the new bridge roadway can be relatively simply dropped onto the supports.
“That will relieve the traffic load in the town itself; and they are clearing the area up by the second coal quarry to create a living place for the miners, which will help with the congestion at the campingplace. Both of these will make my peacekeeping efforts a lot easier! Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I must go and do my chores. Well met Mistress Rathina, Mistress Julina.”
“Well met, Sherif,f” we trilled in unison, the title becoming easier now to say. We watched him stroll down to the Bell Inn and turn into the door.
“Well I must say that the ideas of Mylady are very practical. Who else would have had such simple yet effective thoughts and designs?”
“I agree, Mistress Rathina. Everything that Mylady has introduced is of such benefit to us all. And I am pleasantly surprised that this Assembly is thinking ahead and planning so well. Very strange for a body devoid of any female influence!”
“Come now, Julina. Please. Drop the mistress bit. Please just call me Rathina. And I fully agree with you about both Mylady and the Assembly - particularly the now lack of a woman in charge. Mind you, this new Steward impresses me more and more every time I encounter something he has done.”
“Very well. And thank you for the honour. And Master Bleskin - excuse me - Captain Bleskin has also impressed me, and most of the ladies of the town - that I can state with certainty.”
And so I gained a new friend, although I was still aware that she wanted me as a partner for her son!
I finished my supply shopping and was startled to hear the bells announce the time, so I scurried back by the Claw and up the slope to home to find Kords had really done well with the preparations and Papa was helping the boys with their lessons. Kissa and Julu had been given permission to play about while feeding the animals in our small pasture and suddenly home was a pleasant place to be. I went round and gave each one a kiss, as I wondered in my mind how long the rural tranquillity we had here in town would last.
At home, the tranquillity lasted a short while only.
Papa started querying what we had done, what was to be done, and even why we were doing certain things. It was delaying us as we tried at first to be civil in our replies but it was getting on both my and Kords’ nerves.
As you will find out in the next tale.
Julina certainly did not expect THIS!
The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.
It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.
“Disposing of the body secretly would be the major problem.”
Kords signified her agreement by adding: “And it’s not as if either one of us could do it alone.”
“The more people involved, the less likely we would be unobserved.”
“True. I think that we would have to involve the other four as well. That way, anyone seeing us would assume it was a family affair — which would actually be the right assumption to make, but not that they would know that, hopefully!”
“What on Anmar are you two waffling about?”
“We are discussing the best way of disposing of your body, Father. There are so many ways of killing you, that that will not prove to be a problem. It’s getting away with it that creates certain difficulties for us.
“You are driving the two of us mad. You keep asking the same questions over and over and you are faffing around, getting in the way and disturbing our routines. We have done this all often enough, as you well know. We don’t require any hindrances from you — however thinly disguised as ‘help’. Anyone would think you had invited the Queen herself to dinner, the way you’re hopping around and panicking. You have trusted us with this on numerous previous occasions, why are you hovering about and getting in the way this time? Now go outside and feed the animals or do something else useful. Better still, go to the Bell and have a calming ale or two. Just GET OUT OF OUR WAY! You have delayed us enough! Go on, get out!”
The succession of expressions that followed each other rapidly as they shot across his face would, at any other time, have made me laugh out loud, but I was too angry to let myself be amused. Kords smothered a snorted giggle, and bent her head down over the chopping board, her long locks hiding any further expressions. I just hoped they weren’t hiding the sharp knife and the vegetables as well, and that we wouldn’t have some chopped fingers added to the ingredients. A few twitches of her shoulders told me that she was laughing quietly under her protective layer.
With an angry look finally settling upon his features, Papa took a breath to say something which was obviously going to be fatuous, so I beat him to it.
“Go, I said. Now.” I managed the whole thing: fists on hips, a foot stamp and my best glare which should have set the wooden wall on fire.
“But …”
I dropped my voice down to ‘have-to-listen-carefully-just-to-hear’ levels, and simply said, with, of course, as sneering a tone as I could muster: “One, two …”
Papa had not the faintest idea of the number at which my counting would reach the critical point, so he glared back for a short while, and then swung round on his heels, and went to shout at the younger ones.
“And don’t upset the younger ones, if you want to have a pleasant meal!” I yelled at his retreating back, before he could open his mouth again. I saw his shoulders slump as he did an abrupt right turn and went out of the door, shaking his head as he went.
“At last! Maybe we can now do the job properly,” I grumped, grabbing up my own chopping knife.
Kords and I looked at each other in total agreement and returned to the chores we had been doing, before, a good full moment later, we both burst out in laughter; it was as if we were connected to the identical thought.
“I’ve never ever seen him like that. What on Anmar do you imagine has got into him? We have prepared evening meals for many guests, more often in recent weeks as it happens, but today it seems he has to double and triple check everything. I just don’t understand men. Why today is he being particularly so awkward? Hummph. And that reminds me …” I turned towards the open door and yelled across to the other building: “Hey boys! Don’t forget you’re setting that table and cleaning the dining area!”
I heard a faint disgruntled grunting which I took to mean that Papa had probably already told them twenty times and they didn’t need me to repeat it, but I just wanted to be sure that they knew that I knew and so on. They were now in no position to deny that they had been told.
And so we six children (the other two girls had their assigned tasks as well) got into what were by now our normal routines and prepared the meal for our two unknown guests to enjoy with us. It was by now a well-established method which was actually only running about a quarter of a bell late - all due to Papa’s interference.
Then a small problem arose. We were shorter of a certain something in the cupboard than I had assumed. I had to find the time to slip out to get some supplies - the easiest solution I could come up with was to skip across to Kelly’s house to get that certain something. The bag, when I had looked at it earlier, had seemed to be full sitting there on its shelf, but when Kissa went to it, it was nearly empty. My heart sank, but I knew I had to be honest with the others and accept the blame where it truly belonged - on my shoulders, thus letting them know that it is fine to admit mistakes. I immediately explained to the kids that I should have checked properly - as I hadn’t, it was my fault, and, furthermore, as my legs were longer, then I would hasten to go out and get some more, that being the quickest solution I could think of.
“She probably wants to go and see that Denesar again,” said Kissa slyly, in an aside pitched just loud enough for me to hear. I caught sight of Kords’ answering grin. I, of course, blushed and bit back an angry denial, but neither of them could deny that the ‘emergency’ was genuine enough, and I dashed off on my rescue mission after telling Kissa what she should do to progress my chores that would otherwise be set back, and thus minimise the disturbances.
Where we lived then was at about the same height as the campingplace. I could get there in one of two or three ways - I could go down the slope, to the rear of the Ptuvil’s Claw, and either go up the back lane to the camping place from there, or go past the side of the Claw to join the Main Street and then go up to the top of the street that way, or, as I chose to do this time, I could use a bare, faint track that followed the contour round the slopes.
When I got to the campingplace, it seemed to me there were even more people milling about than there had been a scant two days previously. As I was crossing towards the Bellringer’s house, I glanced to my right and tried to inspect some works further along the ‘coal track’, past where we townsfolk got our coal - I had been told a little about them earlier that morning, by the new Sheriff no less. I was squinting as I hurried along, trying to see what was happening up there, when I nearly bumped into a laden wagon heading down to the Main Street.
It had a curious load on it - there was a hand of strange metal things, a pair and a set of three. The difference between the groupings was the overall length of the things, the three being shorter than the pair. There was also a huge pile of stone and rock in the belly of the wagon.
The metal things, when looked at from one end or the other, were all the same - around a half or two-thirds of a stride square, I would estimate, but with a lot of emptiness in that square. The Sheriff had told me the name, but all I could remember now was that it was something to do with hair - or was it something that wasn’t something to do with hair - whatever he had said. I would need to ask him again, or maybe ask Master Brydas, who, after all, was making the things.
The squares were made of metal rods joining up the corners, with 2 diagonals as well. More rods of the same size joined these end squares along the full length of the thing to the squares that formed the other end of the piece. In between the two extremes were also other squares regularly spaced along the length. I suppose it would be best to describe each piece as a sort of squared-off cylinder, but without solid ‘walls’, since all along the length of each of these pieces, the rods were joined to other rods in the same piece by diagonals. These diagonals were running at strange-to-me angles, making a series of triangles. But they leant one way in one half, and the other way in the other half. I could see a regular pattern, but it was unlike anything else I had ever seen.
Each piece of the threesome was maybe a total of three strides long, possibly four, whilst the other pair were each more than twice that. They overhung the end of the wagon (by a considerable margin - the longer two were more than twice the length of the wagon) as it lumbered down the hill, squeezing past a string of wagons coming up, which had pulled slightly to the other side of the road to allow space for four people on foot. The Main Street nowadays was getting so busy, it was almost verging on dangerous.
I was really intrigued by all this and nearly forgot my urgent mission. I got to Kelly’s house and rapped on the door. Malet was not too long in answering it and smiled at me, obviously genuinely pleased to see me. I explained my predicament, apologised for not being able to stay too long and was grateful when she said that of course she would help; so I followed her to the kitchen and took what I needed, thanking her profusely. She invited me to return at some time when I was not quite so pressed, and I promised to do so. I don’t suppose I was in the house for as much as a hand of moments before I took off once more for home.
My route home this time was a little nearer the Cistern side of the campingplace just so I could attempt to get a better look up towards the head of Bray Vale and the coal quarries. It looked to me that they were clearing a level area, or a stepped series of level areas, up near where they were extracting the coal from the seam used for sending downvalley. The Baroness had guaranteed that OUR seam would not be touched, so that the townsfolk would always have a supply for all the foreseeable future. Judging from what the Sheriff had said earlier, this was to be the main living area for the miners, which made a lot of sense as they might as well live close to their work. Although the camping place was surrounded by a ring - spaced well apart, of course - of latrines, so would be the preferred option for the moment.
I further noticed that there seemed to be the startings of another new building, opposite the Cistern, across the track that went northwards to the coal quarries. I wondered at first what that could be, and replayed the Sheriff’s words in my head. Hmmm - maybe this would be the public bathhouse? It made a sort of sense, keeping it near the water supply and near to the accommodation areas.
I had to thread my way across the ground towards that faint track that followed the contours round to our home, and I really didn’t intend to see Denesar - it just sort of happened. I limited myself to just a few moments chatting, really not much more than a hand of moments, well, maybe two hands, and then scurried home. I don’t suppose I had been away for as much as three quarters of a bell.
I arrived flushed from my exertions, and was immediately teased by Kissa. When Kords started to join in too, I got all bossy and gave them tasks to do just to shut them up. Cheeky little brats.
We were soon back on schedule though, in fact we gained a couple of moments, so I had to praise them, for which they were grateful. Kissa had done my chores and then helped Kords with hers, thus gaining a little time overall. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was quite awkward having so many of us at the same time in what was really a rather restricted space; but as it transpired, with the three of us doing it, we got along famously. Kissa enjoyed being a more important member for a change, and her originally unplanned involvement made me think that we three could work together in the future, particularly when we got into that new house. I even got little Julu to go and double-check everything else, and made sure that the two boys were doing the lettering exercises I had set them. I had made it a bit nicer for them by letting them use some of my precious paper. They were good boys and they knew that the sooner they got it done, the more time they would have to play, before being on their best behaviour for the guests to come later on. They knew, however, that they would be deeply in trouble if their playing messed up any of the arrangements for the evening.
Papa returned from wherever he had been skulking (the ale on his breath was a significant clue) about half a bell before the guests were due and he came into the kitchen with little Julu trailing nervously behind him. Father immediately began to worry that the dinner would be late and what a bad impression that would create and why hadn’t he stayed to make sure that …
“Father! Enough! If you had stayed we would be at least a further half a bell late, so instead of delaying us again, why don’t you just ask if there is anything YOU can do to help us catch up a bit? Hmmm?”
He had the grace to look sheepish, and suddenly thoughtful.
“I’m sorry, ’Lina. I just want this to be perfect. I’ll try to help. What can I do?”
“Prepare the wine and other drinks for the table. Check the settings. Make sure the girls have indeed tidied the rooms sufficiently. And if you find anything, either fix it yourself or come and tell ME. Do NOT shout at the children. Kords - watch that sauce doesn’t burn! Papa, make sure that your guests have somewhere comfortable to come into. Are there sufficient nibbles? A good selection of welcoming drinks? And everything you can think of that YOU would like to see if you had been invited to some other home. If you do all that, I won’t have to, which will save me at least five moments. Kords - the ganifil needs a final baste and then move the pakh ribs into the cooler oven. Papa, why are you still here? Kissa, please check the steaming vegetables - don’t forget the puff of steam when you open the lid. Julu, we are nine at table tonight, so please lay out the plates on the sideboard, ready - and tell the boys to light the candles as soon as the guests arrive at the door.”
… … ...
Being not quite finished in the kitchen, it was impossible for us to present ourselves as a complete family when our guests arrived. I asked Papa to excuse Kords and I, and quickly checked the children were presentable. I sent them all to the door as Kords and I rushed to get it all finished. We quickly performed the last operations and set out the nine plates - two heaped portions for the men, and then descending sizes for the women and children, although I had noticed that ’Kin was eating a bit more nowadays, I suspected a growth spurt was just round the corner!
I removed my apron, hurriedly scraped back some errant hairs (after checking my hands were clean enough) and went through to tell everyone to sit at table. Meanwhile Kords herself had removed her apron, tidied herself and picked up the first three plates.
And so it was that we all sat down to eat only a few moments later than the scheduled time. Master Steef was a little stiff at first, as though he was holding himself back in some way. Mistress Swayga was very pleasant once she lost a strange initial nervousness. I did feel for a while that she was trying a bit too hard, particularly with the younger ones, but she was really quite knowledgeable about running a household and I found myself able to give her a hint or two and a tip or two, and soon we were having a good chat and giggling together. All in all, it was quite a good evening meal, and I was pleased the younger ones seemed to take to Mistress Swayga quite well. I could relax a little, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn’t have to keep more than half my attention over there.
When the meal was over, I assigned various littler heads to various tidying up tasks, and was shocked when Mistress Swayga got up to help as well.
“No, no, Mistress. You are our guest. You don’t have to work.”
“Oh I couldn’t sit there and not do something - besides which, the men probably need a few moments alone so they can do whatever it is men do after such a fine meal. We should give them time to clear the air as it were. I am impressed that you managed to do this all, and so well, Julina! When I was your age, I could never …”
She chatted on as we carried stuff from table to kitchen and she allowed herself to be one of those I bossed about. Before we knew it, the table had been cleared and the dishes cleaned. Papa asked for another bottle of our home made wine and then surprised me by asking for a glass for each of us, adults and children alike - Kord’s was of course heavily watered, ’Kin’s and Julu’s less so. Papa then shocked me as he insisted we all of us returned to table, the little ones didn’t have to get ready for bed as they usually did. They were, of course, delighted to be able to stay up a little longer.
When we all got back to gather round - the regathering took a little longer due to all the natural breaks required - Father asked us to be sure we had something in our glasses.
“I welcome both Master Steef and Mistress Swayga this evening and thank them for their most pleasant company. I also thank you younger ones for all you have done to make this a pleasant experience. There are two heroines also to be thanked. Dear Kords of course who has been growing up so fast and has been a great help to her older sister. You have no idea how much I appreciate the way you have lightened your sister’s load, particularly recently. So I ask you all to drink a salutation to Kordulet. She has been immense in recent weeks and it has been wonderful to see. Kordulet my dear, here’s to you with deep, deep, deep appreciation. Everyone - I give you our lovely Kords.”
We all raised our glasses and sipped as Kords sat there blushing heavily. I leant across and kissed her, whispering a heartfelt “thank you” into her ear. This was the cue for the other kids to mob her and kiss her too. I could tell from Father’s attitude that he was building up to something, and I had a darkening suspicion that there would be a lot more coming, with me as the subject. A thought flashed across my mind that he could have waited for all this sentimental rubbish until the dinner the following night, and not have put me through this all in front of strangers.
And then began the most embarrassing few moments of my life.
Concluding with the biggest surprise of my life.
Sure enough, Papa then switched his attention my way, and I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I was however slightly shocked to see a hint of a tear in his eye as he started. I soon averted my eyes though and had to concentrate on the patterns in the grain of the wood which formed the table top. It was a necessary prop to have to concentrate so fiercely.
He went on far too long about how I had taken over at a young age, how I had effectively been forced to be a housewife at that very early age, how I had given up this, that and the next thing. How our family was considered one of the best in the community, how this was down to me and my sense and … blah blah blah blah blah. How I had given up my childhood for the benefit of our family, how I had never complained … blah blah blah blah blah.
When he was winding up his remarks, I was being mobbed by the others, and I confess I was crying. Even Papa was emotionally-choked and I saw Swayga dabbing at her eyes, which distracted me briefly, why would SHE be so affected?
“… And so we rapidly approach the final birthday of her so-called childhood. I’m sure that you will all be happy to know that I have arranged as a present for her to travel down to Tranidor with Mistress Epp, and to stay there to see the sights and to learn about others outside this mountain community. You should also consider it as I’m sending her out to make it easier for YOU all when you get to go downvalley. Dearest, dearest Julina - you have been the glue that has kept this family together just at the time you should have been enjoying the only carefree days of your youth. So I have come to some decisions.”
He paused somehow significantly.
“Please, all of you hear me out before you comment. As of this very moment, I absolve Julina from any duties around the house and family. Shh. Please. There is a lot more to come. Do not be so worried. Julina has three weeks before she becomes an adult and I want her to have that time AS A CHILD, with as few adult decisions to make as possible - the only three teenage childhood weeks she will ever have.
“I know her well and I know it will not be easy to just stop, so I am sure she will be happy to help, but I want her to know that SHE DOES NOT HAVE TO. And it does not mean that the rest of you will have to work more. I have a solution for that which I shall present shortly. But for now, I want you all to be aware that I recognise the HUGE debt that we all as a family owe her. Dearest ’Lina, we are all so grateful for what you have done these past years. All of you, let us raise our glasses in salutation. To the most amazing and influential person in all our lives - I give you Julina.”
There was a complete hubbub then and even little Korden seemed to grasp the significance of the occasion. There were so many tears shed that I was worried we would start our own tributary to the Blackstone River.
I saw Papa and Mistress Swyaga talking together very earnestly, but frankly my emotions overcame me and I was totally lost in the moment.
Eventually some semblance of order was regained as Papa broke off from the crushing hug with which by then he had enveloped me. He went back to his position at the head of the table and rapped on the wood for attention. It took a while for all the over-emotion to die down, but later rather than immediately, we all paid him the attention he required.
“I promised you all a solution to the fact that our main provider, and surrogate mother to you all, would not have to work so much. Well the solution is Mistress Swayga. She will be moving in with us and will take over the running of the household.”
Suddenly there was a total silence round the table.
He continued: “I have discussed it with her fully and she has agreed. This is why we had the dinner as we did tonight, for she wanted to be sure she found you all acceptable and that you all found her acceptable. I personally had no doubts, and I’m glad to say that you all didn’t disappoint me. So before we go any further let me tell you some of her background …”
Papa then told us all a potted history of her life up to then, which naturally involved parts of her brother’s life as well. I will not go into full details here and now, I’m sure that many will come out in other tales. Essentially they are orphans (they are adults, yes, but without any parents) their parents having been killed at sea in a sudden storm. All the family items of real value went down with the deep-sea fishing boat that had provided them their livelihood.
They were born in Vardenale, in a suburb of Viridor, the great port city. I was able to relate to the awfulness of the fact that their parents died when they were twelve or thirteen, but it must have been even more awful to lose both at the same time - at least we had always had one. They were sent to stay with an Uncle and Aunt in Dekarran and chose to join the river traffic way of life, plying mostly between Dekarran and Teldor, with some trips as far as Haligo, where the falls and narrow gorge limited the upstream use of shipping.
Steef met and married a Teldor girl and set up home there. They tried for children but she just would not ‘take’. One day, he came back from a week’s trip to find a home from which anything that vaguely belonged to her had disappeared, along with much that he felt he could claim was his. He still does not know, to this day, what became of her nor why that happened.
But his sister wanted at that time to get away from a too clingy suitor and so she moved upriver to Teldor too, and the two of them made Steef’s house their home. She gained work with the wagon company and she herself was frequently away for long trips, accompanying wagoneers and tending to the sewing, cooking and other womanly pursuits often required by the travellers. She swiftly learnt how to deal with a large group of men in all their various moods.
She discovered from her duties and contacts with others in their world that there was a limited amount of river traffic upstream from Haligo, between Tranidor and Haligo, and that there would be a suitable opening for Steef in a freshly-founded river barge company. Steef’s talents meant he was quickly snapped up by this venture and soon he was a driving force behind its expansion. They moved again to Tranidor and had just settled in when unexpected financial problems beset the bargers, and the company had to close just as they were planning a new upstream warehouse on the east bank of the Palar, almost at the confluence with the Bray. Steef felt that there were some heavy politics behind the problems, and had an unconfirmed opinion that someone on high had determined that this would not be a good thing. They survived where they were for half a year, but they were now in danger of using up all their savings with Steef out of employment for the first time ever in his life.
They heard of a catering company in Tranidor that was doing well by providing ready-cooked food on demand, so they went to find out if they had any suitable work for Steef. They did not, as it happened, but he learnt from a Mistress Megrozen (who was apparently quite important in that enterprise - I smiled when they said that) that a new roadhouse had opened up on the Blackstone route and that there might be an opportunity there. Steef travelled up with Mistress Megrozen, who was travelling on to the town called Blackstone, and yes indeed he found a position for himself and his organisational talents (not to miss mentioning his fishing talents as well). Once he had started, it became apparent to Steef that his sister would also be a valuable asset to this tiny community buried deep in the forest, so she soon resigned from the wagon company and took up employment there as well.
Papa, you might recall, had, swiftly after Trogan’s unlamented departure, resumed his roadcare duties, concentrating originally on the farthest end of his area - the Chaarn fork. He consequently spent a lot of time at that roadhouse.
“And so children, that is where I met Mistress Swayga, and I determined that she would be very suitable to give poor ’Lina a much needed break. I knew that it would be difficult to prise her away - after all she had only been there a matter of weeks. But I relied on the strengths of my family to finally tip the balance.
“We, Mistress Swayga and I, have chatted muchly, and I am certain that Mistress Swayga is an honourable and reliable person. I have observed her whilst working and I have also had good reports from Mistress Epp, or Mistress Megrozen I should say, and also from Mistress Sukhana over to the Claw. Master Jaxen has also heard of her professionalism and told me that she was greatly missed by the wagon company.
“She has a heart for others, is knowledgeable in many, many subjects, and is not too proud to take instruction. She is capable, more than capable as a cook, and yet has told me that she wants to learn more - in particular how ‘Lina and Kords …”
Papa was looking at me at that moment, so I frowned and nodded towards Kissa.
“ … and not to forget the very valuable contribution from Kissa, did the recipes for tonight. She has promised me that she is fully prepared to listen and learn from Julina in particular, in order to make the best job of running this household. There is no way, she assures me, that she would just walk in here and dictate to you all. She is fully prepared to learn about you all and the household, and asks only that you all should give her a chance to learn what she needs. And that frank and open discussions will be held to resolve any of the inevitable awkwardnesses that will occur.
“Taking all this into account, plus many other factors which include the fact that I have come to love her, I have the honour to announce that Mistress Swayga has agreed to become my wife.”