A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  Mark smiled as he envisioned any unfortunate man with nefarious intent who unsuspectingly encountered a woman with bedraggled clothing and who carried gold coin.

  “All right, have a good time, and don’t hesitate to say you need to return here for whatever reason,” said Mark before starting to walk away.

  “And don’t forget to thank the hetman, Mark.”

  He returned to where he’d left Balwis standing inside the main entrance.

  Shit, Mark thought. I suppose I should have asked him to sit somewhere, instead of leaving a hetman standing like some salesman. But hell, I don’t know what the rules are here.

  “Maghen and Heather will go with your wife, Hetman, and thank you.”

  Balwis eyed Mark as if making some sort of evaluation, then he shrugged. “As I said last evening, I think we can forget the titles. Usually on Caedellium, people refer to each other by their last names until they have a longer acquaintance. However, I’ve no doubt we’re going to see a lot of you in the future, so let’s dispense with the formality. I’m Balwis, and you’re Mark.”

  The hetman put out a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Mark accepted the gesture, and the two men performed a firm handshake, neither man trying to make a point with the strength of his grip.

  “I assumed what the decisions would be,” said Balwis. “There are horses outside. I’ll have the extras taken back, and we can be off. Oh . . . a couple of guards will accompany the women. Nothing’s going to happen with Ceinwyn. She’s famous. But I thought you might feel better if they have some escorts.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Mark didn’t see a reason to describe Maghen’s arsenal.

  Halfway down the path from the villa door to the road, Ceinwyn appeared, followed by two men ten yards behind.

  “I take it my prediction was accurate,” she said, smiling.

  “Not that I doubted you,” said Balwis. “Mark and I will tour the countryside while you guide Maghen and Heather to the main shopping district. If Mark is as much of a ranch worker as I suspect, he’ll be glad to be on a horse again, and we may not be back until late this afternoon.”

  Mark didn’t disabuse Balwis. As much as he was comfortable on a horse, he had ridden enough in the last year not to feel an urgent need to do more than necessary.

  Ceinwyn tugged on Balwis’s beard. He leaned toward her slightly so she could deliver a peck on his cheek. “You men go do your thing, and we women will do ours.”

  She left them, and Balwis gestured to where several men held saddled horses.

  Once in the villa, Ceinwyn heard Alys’s laughter and followed the sound to the kitchen. The child sat on a counter, bare feet dangling, and tapped her heels against the wood in time with a tune Heather hummed. Maghen was drying a plate when she saw Ceinwyn. She hurriedly put the plate and cloth down, took a few steps toward Ceinwyn, and made a low and awkward curtsey.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, blushing. “I don’t know how to address a hetman’s wife.”

  Heather stopped humming and stared back and forth between the other two women.

  “Well,” said Ceinwyn, “it certainly doesn’t involve bowing. There’s no formal title to being the hetman’s wife, except being the ‘hetman’s wife.’ Or, in my case, just Ceinwyn if I know the person at all. So . . . that’s settled. No bowing, and I’m Ceinwyn. Now, are you three ladies ready to go walking into the city?”

  “Is Senwina coming with us?” asked Maghen. “She didn’t bring much with her. I’m sure her children also need clothes.”

  “She and her children have moved to stay with a cousin living in Preddi City. I understand he got word of her return and came immediately to the clan headquarters. They moved late last night. The cousin’s family is taking care of them until transportation to Seaborn is available.”

  “That’s good,” said Maghen. “Being with family is always best, especially because it’s been years since she’s seen any of them.”

  Heather cleared her throat to catch Maghen’s attention.

  “Yes . . . uh . . . I need to ask something,” Maghen said. She picked up a leather pouch from the counter. The obvious weight and clinking suggested the contents before she pulled out a gold coin.

  “The only coins we have are from Frangel and a few gold and silver ones from Sulako. Can I change these somewhere for Caedelli coins? It will make buying easier. I’ll also be paying for Heather’s things.”

  Ceinwyn waved a hand. “I know a tradesman who changes coins. There’s usually not much call for that on Caedellium. Mainly just in Preddi City since this was the main trade port. Of course, there was even less need when the Narthani cut the other clans off from Preddi. I’ll see that we take care of this sometime today.

  “However, don’t worry about paying for anything. Yozef has left clear instructions that he will pay for everything. In fact, we could probably get everything free just by letting the tradespeople know you’re friends of Yozef’s. Most shops will be happy to give you anything without payment.”

  Ceinwyn smiled. “We don’t do that, though. I’ve brought plenty of coin, and if I run out, the shops will know they’ll be paid. Yozef is particular about what he calls, ‘Taking advantage of his position.’ It annoys Balwis. He tells Yozef it’s a gesture of honor, but Yozef is insistent.”

  “Well . . . I feel uneasy about not paying,” said Maghen, “but as long as it’s part of your local customs, I guess it’s all right.”

  “It’s also okay with me,” said Heather, “but I’ll trust you to tell me if I’m spending too much . . . uh . . . coin.”

  “I doubt that will be a problem,” said Ceinwyn, “so let’s be on our way. We have the whole day, so we can walk around as much as you like. Just tell me when you’re tired. Oh . . . we’ll take the carriage outside from here to the city center. Then we’ll walk until we’re finished. Depending on how much we buy, the two guards will help carry your purchases.”

  Scattered clouds drifted across the mid-morning sky when they left the carriage at the city’s main plaza. It would remain there until they wanted to return to the villa. The main shop areas were a block or more surrounding three sides of the plaza and were busy with patrons looking or buying.

  As they walked, Ceinwyn caught Heather’s failed attempt to look at the scar without Ceinwyn noticing.

  “I’m sorry,” said Heather, haltingly. “I . . . ”

  “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. In the past, I tried to hide the scar with my hair. I thought I was so ugly no one would want to look at me. Balwis got mad and insisted I don’t hide. He said it was a mark of honor gotten when fighting the Narthani, and if anyone didn’t like it, they could go . . . well . . . you can imagine the rest. I admit I was slow to accept it and not worry. It’s funny how things happen, but now, when I walk around, people either ignore the scar or, if they see it, they smile! I guess it’s an easy way for people to recognize me, whether they know me or not. I’ve a degree of fame for being the hetman’s daughter who fought off Narthani attackers. You know . . . courageous Ceinwyn. Actually, when the Narthani attacked Keelan Manor, the fighting was desperate. A Narthani came at Balwis from behind. I grabbed the only thing handy—a small chair. I hit the Narthani’s back, which hardly affected him. He whirled and gave me this.”

  She held a hand to her cheek. “I guess I’m lucky he didn’t split my head open.”

  Heather wrung her hands. “I’m SO sorry, Ceinwyn, I—”

  “No, that’s all right. I’ve come to believe the scar is God’s gift to me. I was a petty person, jealous of Maera’s intelligence and that all three of my sisters were more attractive than me. In retrospect, I’m ashamed how much of my time I spent feeding simmering resentments over trivial or imaginary injustices. I ignored the wonders of life. The scar made me realize I was a person I wouldn’t like if I’d met someone like me. Then there was my sister, Anid. She died during the attack. She was such a lovely person, and here it was me surviving . . . and I wasn’t
a lovely person. At first, I felt guilty, but then I determined to live the best I could. That, plus the love of my family, helped me through the first months.”

  If it’s all the same, thought Heather, I’d prefer God just send me an email. She suppressed a shiver at imagining what Ceinwyn’s wound must have looked like and the recovery.

  Ceinwyn laughed. “Then I had Balwis. He’s blunt and brooks no nonsense. When he chided or sometimes scolded me for hiding myself and the scar, I had to admit he and others I cared about didn’t see the scar as diminishing me in any way. Well . . . not in ways that truly matter. Again, you haven’t been around Balwis, but he means whatever he says. It finally sank in with me that he truly didn’t care about the scar but actually liked me.”

  “Well, I admit your husband and the other men are somewhat intimidating,” said Maghen, “but I think I like him. He sounds like my father and brothers. Mark is somewhat like that, but I frequently sense he doesn’t quite say what’s going on in his mind.”

  “Now, that’s enough about my scar,” said Ceinwyn. “Here we’ve come to a shoe shop. I favor this one over the others in Preddi City. Let’s find out if they can fit feet as small as Heather’s and Alys’s, plus your bigger ones.”

  After looking at footwear for a few minutes, Maghen whispered to Ceinwyn. “I think I understand when the man tells me what things cost, but what’s the value of Caedelli coins? I don’t want to overspend.”

  “As I said, don’t worry. I’ll tell you if any of the tradespeople ask too much, though that’s unlikely when the hetman’s wife is present. More likely, we’ll probably get the best prices possible.”

  An hour later, they left after purchasing sandals and walking shoes for all three new residents of Preddi, a pair of play shoes for Alys, and a pair of comfortable everyday shoes for Heather, all to be picked up later that day before returning to the villa. In addition, the shoemaker promised the pairs of everyday and work shoes would be ready for Maghen late the next day. The latter required taking her measurements. Ceinwyn didn’t comment on Maghen’s insistence that she would need the work shoes for when she found employment. Two pairs of shoes for Mark would also be ready the next day. Maghen had used paper she found in the villa to trace his feet and his one pair of boots.

  Maghen and Heather left that first shop wearing their new sandals. Both were happy to leave the old footwear for whatever purpose the shop owner had for them.

  “I felt like I was trying to walk in ‘snowshoes’ all the time,” said Heather, using the English word.

  “In what?” asked Ceinwyn.

  “Uh . . . they’re something you wear on your feet to stop them from sinking into deep snow. They spread your weight, so you stay on top of the snow.”

  “Oh . . . I can see how that could be useful,” said Maghen. “There were a few times in Frangel when I could have used them. Fortunately, on our way here we didn’t experience much snow. However, our guide in Rustal warned us we needed to be farther north before that happened.

  “How about here, Ceinwyn?” asked Maghen. “I’d think you’d have more snow here because you’re farther north than Frangel.”

  “Actually, here on Caedellium we don’t get much snow because we’re so far south. We’re north of the equator, the point where the weather patterns are mirror images as you go north and south. Frangel is south of the equator. At least, that’s how it was explained in school.

  “But no, I’ve only seen snow falling a few times and never more than a finger’s width deep on the ground. Of course, the mountains are different. The highest passes might be blocked at times, especially in the northern provinces. Maybe they have something like ‘snowshoes’ there and almost certainly in northern Melosia, such as in the Iraquinik Confederation’s kahsaks—that’s what they call their member states.

  “So . . . will we need heavy coats here?” asked Heather.

  “Probably not, unless you’re sensitive to the cold. One of my aunts is like that. She’ll wear heavier clothing even when everyone else is comfortable.” Ceinwyn laughed. “She’s my mother’s sister. I used to hate visiting her because she kept her home so warm. I’d find some excuse to go outside every chance I got.

  “But we’ll buy cloaks to wear for night chills. You can decide later if you need something more. For now, let’s look for dresses. You two will feel a lot better with some new ones.”

  “Oh, God, yes,” said Heather, gesturing to the pants she wore. “I appreciated the Buldorian sailors for coming up with these, but they hang on me like someone just threw pieces of canvas at me. I swear I still smell the sea, even after so many washings. Besides, they scratch something terrible.”

  Ceinwyn led them to a street with several shops displaying wide selections of women’s clothing, including dresses, skirts, and smocks. An hour and a half later, they left with enough to elicit a comment from Ceinwyn that another couple of hours of shopping and they might have to send for the carriage.

  A moment of awkwardness occurred when a woman shopkeeper directed them to a small room where they could try on clothing. It was Heather’s first experience with the Caedelli’s lax attitude about modesty. Ceinwyn sat at a bench while Maghen proceeded to shed clothing. Heather stood frozen, uncertain about committing to nudity in front of the other two women.

  Maghen had donned a dark green dress and was straining to view herself in a small, wall-mounted mirror before Heather’s reluctance was noticed.

  “Something wrong, Heather?” asked Ceinwyn.

  “Uh . . . no. I’m fine. It’s just that where I come from, each person would have a separate small room for trying on clothing.”

  Prompted from her inaction, Heather undressed, though she turned her back to the other two women, who passed looks back and forth.

  “The shop next door has different clothing types,” said Ceinwyn.

  “I’ll be glad for new underpants,” said Maghen. “I started in Frangel with two, but the last one finally became useless during the voyage on the Buldorian ship. They make dealing with monthly bleedings so much easier.”

  “True,” said Ceinwyn, “but even more important is the kotex that Yozef introduced.”

  Heather choked and coughed enough that the other women became concerned.

  “No, I’m all right. I just swallowed the wrong way. You say Yozef introduced . . . kotex?”

  “Yes. During his first year on Caedellium. I don’t remember exactly when, but Maera, my older sister and Yozef’s future wife, brought some back to Caernford where we lived. She had been visiting Abersford, where Yozef lived at the time. He had introduced kotex, and Maera told us every woman in that district who was still bleeding was using kotex within a few sixdays. It spread over the rest of Caedellium within a month. There even got to be trouble with people stealing shipments—the price had gone up due to shortages. If you hear men, they’ll talk about kerosene or maybe ether as his main innovations, but there’s no doubt about women’s opinions.”

  “What are you two talking about?” asked Maghen, confused.

  Ceinwyn gave the Frangel woman a detailed description—to Heather’s embarrassment and Maghen’s enthusiasm.

  “Where can I get some of this kotex? Sounds too good to be true and better than cloth pads like I’m used to. I won’t tell you what I had to use sometimes while we were on the way here from Frangel. I’m due in another two sixdays and will definitely try this kotex.”

  When they’d finished with the current shop, they moved only a few yards to the next, where they purchased underpants. After they’d made their selections, Heather quickly wandered through the shop’s aisles before returning to the other two women.

  “Uh . . . I don’t see any . . . uh . . . top underclothes. You know. Brassieres. Bras. To support breasts.”

  The two women looked at each other before Maghen spoke.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well . . . to wear around the breasts to support their weight.”

  “You mean slings for
women with breasts so large they’re painful at times?”

  Heather’s description of brassieres drew interest but not conviction.

  “And some women wear this . . . bra . . . you shortened the name to?”

  “All women. Well . . . almost all women.”

  “Did you wear these bras?” asked Ceinwyn.

  “Yes, all the time, except when I slept at night.”

  “But why would you need to wear one, Heather? Your breasts are small. You’re young, and we saw you don’t have stretch marks, so you haven’t had children. Even then, I doubt your breasts will grow enough to wear one of those . . . bras you said.”

  “It was the custom,” stuttered Heather, blushing.

  “How odd,” said Ceinwyn, turning to Maghen. “What about in Frangel?”

  Maghen shrugged. “Something like the sling you mention. Usually made of heavier cloth. You could buy them in shops, but most women made their own. They were called strofens. I had one I made one summer when I was caring for my family’s krykors. Our only two dogs had died, and I was constantly running around chasing the damn animals. The strofen helped, but if I wore it too much, my breasts ached.”

  Maghen took on a thoughtful look. “Hmmmm . . . now that I think, I didn’t notice women’s nipples in Rustal or Sulako like you do here or in Frangel. In Rustal, it was often cold, so they likely wore multiple layers of clothing. In Sulako it was warm, especially in Iskadon, the city where you were, Heather. Did you notice anything?”

  “No, but then it wasn’t something I looked for. I didn’t have anyone I felt I could ask about it, so I wore an extra smaller undergarment. I guess I assumed the other women wore something like a bra for support and to not make the breasts too noticeable. You know . . . the nipples showing or the breasts bouncing. That last part was considered immodest. At home, I would never have considered wearing only a thin upper garment, though some women were more relaxed . . . or maybe less self-conscious.”