The Marquis (8 page)

Conn wondered what the mother thought about it. Beomon introduced her later in the evening and she seemed delighted. She had not been on the ride from Sumy with her bedda as she had been visiting her mother. Prior to meeting her, lots of food and drink was brought in and everyone found a spot on the long benches to feast. Every time Conn turned around, another mug of beer was put his way to celebrate his role in the demise of the Ancuman. The mead and cider were robust – to say the least.  Not up to Meshech standards and both he and Derryth knew they were going to regret it in the morning. They could feel the handover already.

It seemed that drinking to excess was expected of both sexes; the women also tended to loosen their bodices as the night progressed, until more was out than in. The ruckus behaviour involved lots of singing and dancing and more drinking. Most were semi naked at the end of the night, but not a lot of fornicating as most were too drunk.

Conn could control his drinks, and for him at least, celebrations took a more intimate path soon after he met the new Aebeling’s mother, Ysha, as he discovered to be her name. She was so happy with her change of status, and “divorce” from the Thane, that she asked Conn if she may have a private conversation away from the noise of the hall, with the music, singing and dancing making it difficult to talk.

She led him into a small antechamber some distance away from the hall. It was a solar with windows and the bright moonlight streamed into the room. Inside she drew the curtain behind her and Conn watched curiously as she then removed her clothing.

She smiled at him as she went to remove his trousers. ‘I have decided that I should celebrate my freedom and thank you personally for everything you have done for my son, in a way that I’m sure you will appreciate.’

Conn tried to reason with her. ‘It wasn’t actually my idea…’

‘Let’s keep that our little secret…’

It seemed futile arguing with her, so he didn’t.

~oo0oo~

The room had a few more assignations that night as several other more mature women in the room – those without care for reputation – had a desire to speak privately with him. Some had requests as well as carnal desires and he later helped as much as he could. Over the next weeks, the little antechamber was a favoured meeting place for him and Ysha; he found it hard to leave the donjon without Ysha waylaying him. Her room had her child, and she was disinclined to visit Conn in the barracks. So antechambers it was.

Those that did have a care for reputation, sat very close, leaned over a lot and asked if he was looking for bedda. He wasn’t, so they went away miffed. Some even cried. Conn felt terrible momentarily.

Frithlyn joined him later in the evening. She looked radiant in her Meshechian silk choli. She had used her influence within Conn’s household to be the second, after the Wealdend, to be wearing the new fashion from Meshech, and she wrapped a silk saree around the plunging neckline. The Wealdend’s support assured that his shops would sell out very quickly. She smiled mischievously. ‘You are certainly very popular, Marquis. I can see why you have over forty children. Perhaps you will have more after tonight...’

‘I hope not. Have you been accepted back – has your reputation been restored?’

She nodded. ‘Pretty much. It helps that the Healdend has also made me head of her household – my position is called
Bucho
or something – and with Wystan as Colonel of the fyrd…’

‘But…’ Conn noticed the hesitation.

‘This is Samria. As the daughter of a Marquis I am expected to be the bedda of a Thane at worst. Daughters of Thanes are bedda to wiga.’

‘Didn’t the Wealdend become bedda to a wiga?’

‘She did – but her mother had been cast out at that time – and being a girl, her daughter went with her. She also refused to become bedda to her father’s choice.’

‘You can refuse?’

She nodded. ‘Once – but only once. She then had no choice about who she could become bedda to. He father was disappointed at her rejection that he gave her to an old friend – the Folctoga of the Town Guard, a man three times her age. Twice is fine, three times is insulting.’ She stood to go. ‘I will leave you – there are other desirous of your attention in completely different ways than I…’

It was consequently very late when Conn returned to the barracks to sleep off the bad alcohol. In the morning he found Derryth in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee. He poured one for Conn as he arrived. He seemed to begrudge sharing.

‘When are supplies coming from Meshech? We are running out. I could only carry so much – and the Marquis of Sumy has taken a liking to coffee as well. I had to give him some.’

The Twacuman had no vices. None. Until Conn introduced coffee that is. Derryth could only be described as addicted, and his trade with Halani from Lykia was larger than any other market. Halani had actually invited miners into their demesne so that they had gold to buy coffee. Derryth had serious withdrawals whenever he ran out.

‘Njil should be here soon. He was due in Subari ten days ago. As soon as he reloads he should turn up here. He has the special cargo as well. I’ve asked Wystan for assistance organizing space on the docks but I’m unsure that the port is large enough as there are a lot of Ancuman vessels waiting to leave. Wystan has almost completed the inspections of all of the ships to ensure that nothing of value is taken, and they should start leaving tomorrow but it might take some time for Njil to unload… ’

‘That’s alright. I’ll go to him.’

With Conn’s arrival, the Ancuman ships were able to depart, on his approval. After an extensive meeting with Wystan, he gave his approval and it wasn’t long before the first vessel started to make its way out of the port. On the conclusion of the meeting, Conn went to the donjon to meet some of the more senior Ancuman on their last day in Samria. He arrived as the bedda and children of the ‘deceased’ Dagrun were meeting with the Wealdend. Dagrun had three bedda – with two small children, including a boy. It seemed that they were most upset that Dagrun’s sister was now Wealdend, and they were demanding to know how they could be treated the way they had – not only to be confined to their rooms, but also to be summarily thrown out of Samria.

‘For your own protection.’ Efilda responded, ‘The Border Guard saved your lives. Some people blame you for what happened to their family members just three years ago. If you wish, you are free to go to the port without guards…’

They declined but still protested. ‘What happened was not our doing – the assassins were only defeated because of us – without us you would all be dead!’

‘That is what you would like us to believe. But my child who died at their hands do not share your views.’

‘And you would expel your heir – this boy’ one pointed to her son that she held in her arms ‘is the rightful heir no matter what you say. You are too old to bear children – there will be no fruit from your loins.’

Efilda smiled. ‘I hate to disappoint you yet again – by the Gyden that has long abandoned us has blessed me. I am with child. I have also adopted the grandson of the Marquis of Sumy. If your child wants to stake his claim, tell him to come back with lots of wiga. I will ensure that there is no welcome this time.’

Wailing, the bedda were led to the side of the room as three more Ancuman, males, were brought into the room. Conn recognized Geirnarr and Agkell, but not the third.

He was an elderly man – and clearly one of nobility. This was confirmed with the voice that Conn felt as he came closer, and he could see the black stone hanging from the man’s neck. He still couldn’t hear the one around the Folgere.

Conn sensed that Efilda knew the older man well – it was soon obvious that their relationship had not been an easy one. It transpired that he was one of the first arrivals here – he had become a trusted advisor to Efilda’s father; and the architect of his downfall.

He bowed to Efilda as he arrived. ‘You are looking well.’

‘No thanks to you, Baldri, I would look dead if all things worked out as you had planned.’

‘Not if you had done as I asked so many years ago… you had to share your body with an old wiga instead of me. You would have had many children by now.’

She shook her head. ‘That alone I do not regret.’ She pointed to Conn, who was sitting to the side. ‘You know Conn il Taransay?’

As soon as his eyes hit Conn, Conn felt the hate emanate from the presence that occupied the necklace. Not prepared, Baldri almost stumbled. As he regained his composure, he answered feebly.

‘Yes, the Feorrancund is known to me by reputation. We are unsure why he interferes in matters not of his concern.’ He steadied himself with his hand on the Folgere. The Folgere visibly flinched. There was no love lost there as well.

‘It is just as well he did – for the people of Samria at least.’ Efilda responded angrily. ‘He is more a friend to us than you ever were.’

‘We shall see – Efilda – we shall see. Don’t get too used to your new title – it is temporary.’ He looked at Derryth and Conn. ‘Just as the abomination that is the title of Feorhhyrde that he also claims to use. We do not acknowledge it – and it will be vanquished along with all those that support him.’

Conn stood up and Baldri took a step back, as did the Folgere. Geirnarr didn’t move, he looked on in amusement.

‘Time will bear witness, Baldri – but I don’t need any title to do what I need to do to protect those that need protection.’

Something occurred to Conn as he looked at the Folgere.  He seriously wanted to punish him in some way – make him suffer. ‘Wealdend – did you not say that there is a Cirice in Samriak?’

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘I think we should show your guests the Cirice – before they leave…’

Efilda looked bewildered but she complied and they headed for the thirty minute walk through the castle and out and up to a hill top. It stood even higher than the castle and overlooked the entire port. The Cirice surprised Conn – it was not like the others; it was a large single room; open on three sides to the outside wall – with twelve large timber pillars supporting the timber and thatch roof.

Like the others, however, the stone idol was naked – but there was only one of them. It made up with being twice as large as normal.

‘It is said to be modelled on the Folgere who landed here.’ Efilda added as they stood. All the Samrians guards had stooped to one knee on entering, before standing guard around the perimeter.

‘She must have been one heck of a woman.’ Conn said as he walked around the naked statue that sat in the lotus position in the centre of the room. Like the others, she had a hand open – under her left breast while the right one covered her genitalia in modesty. Least that was something.

Agkell was getting uncomfortable.  ‘What are we doing here? There is no Gyden here – nor will there ever be. That is why the Samrians should bow to Ashtoreth.’

‘I gather she has some practices that the Samrians find ... well unpleasant … especially the girls but also the boys.’ Conn offered as he reached into his pouch.

The Folgere was undeterred. ‘Everyone must make some sacrifice for the guidance and protection of a Gyden. It is only just and righteous.’ He was starting to watch Conn closely as he fumbled around in his pouch. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I thought I’d give the old Cirice a kick start. Every Cirice I know needs a haligdom. You wear yours around your neck, do you not?’

‘How do you know that?’ His protective instinct was to reach for the necklace – and he dragged his hand away consciously.

‘You would be surprised what I know, Folgere. I know that if I place a haligdom where there was never one, it might just give the Samrians a little more protection – from people like you.’

The Folgere ignored the jibe but laughed. ‘Who do you think you are? No normal man can touch a haligdom.’

Conn smiled. ‘I try not to think of myself as a normal man.’

He then held a bright brown gemstone in his hands.

‘This is what I was looking for. I only have the one. Let’s hope I don’t break it.’ Shutting his mind, he reached over and placed it on the palm of the left hand and nothing happened. It sat rocking from side to side on the marble.

‘See, told you so – nothing.’ The Folgere’s voice strained with false bravado.

He was of course wrong. Ever so slowly, something did happen – Conn watched the gemstone stop rocking and slowly be drawn into the marble. Then an arch of brown-orange light steamed out of the stone and then pulsed, forcefully. It was like being hit with a very strong gust of wind. Conn had never experienced it before, but he had prepared himself for anything. Those, however, that were not standing prepared for such a thing were cast back and now lay sprawling on the ground. Derryth had been prepared – he had also braced himself and had clutched at Efilda as she almost flew past him. She wasn’t perfectly upright but she didn’t land on the ground either.

Derryth straightened her up. ‘That is not something you see every day.’

As the rest struggled to their feet, the Folgere was speechless, tears running down his face and anguish tearing at his very soul. Everyone looked at the stone statue now cast in a brown-orange glow, and as they observed, they saw the statue shrink until it was human size and then stand. Although previously naked, it was now covered in the finest of sheer garments as it paraded its voluptuous body down towards them. The Folgere immediately cast himself on the ground, face touching the earth. She looked strangely at the prone Folgere and then walked to Efilda, her aura flickering over the crying woman.