by B. Muze
“Well, if I’m the woman,” said Jovai.
“And the man?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, blushing.
“How old is he?” amended Milapo, in deference to her daughter’s modesty.
“Four, maybe at most five years older than me.”
“And he kisses you and tells you he doesn’t feel anything?”
Jovai nodded, unhappily.
“Does he then kiss you again?”
“Yes.”
“Then he probably feels something.”
“What if he were kissing me only because he thought he ought to?”
“He would only have that duty if he were already your husband. Since he’s not, if he doesn’t enjoy kissing you then he wouldn’t.”
Jovai thought about it for a while, unsatisfied by Milapo’s assurances.
“What if he were crazy?” she asked suddenly.
“Who?” asked Milapo, startled.
“The man who doesn’t feel anything when he kisses me.”
“If he’s crazy then get rid of him.”
She strained her imagination to find any young man who might by any stretch be considered crazy by Latohva.
“What if it’s just a little craziness — just enough to make him think he has to kiss me even though he doesn’t really want to?”
“If he keeps kissing you, but keeps saying he doesn’t like kissing you…”
“He says he doesn’t feel anything when he kisses me,” corrected Jovai.
Milapo shrugged.
“Then he’s either crazy, a fool or a liar. Anyway, go find a better man.”
“But what if I like him — a lot.”
“Has he said he wants to marry you?” asked Milapo, watching Jovai closely.
She shook her head, unhappily.
“Then go find another man. If he likes you as much as you like him, then he’ll stop playing and ask you to marry him. If he doesn’t, then you’re better off without him.”
That day, Jovai waited for Koban impatiently. When it seemed to her it must be late, although in truth he had never met with her so early, she left her work and sought him out.
She found him chopping wood, his muscles flexing as he worked, his well-formed chest and arms naked but for the gleam of his sweat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her, leaving his work.
“Nothing,” she answered through her sudden embarrassment. “I just needed…wanted to talk with you.”
He grabbed his tunic and led her toward the river where he could wash, but he left it for her to start the conversation.
“I…I was wondering…how do you think I’m doing in my lessons?”
“Very well!” he assured her with a smile.
Her heart leapt, but she tried very hard to keep any expression out of her face.
“So, when do you think I will be ready to be a wife?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “It may take as many years to get you comfortable with the idea as it took to get you uncomfortable with it. Maybe even longer.”
“I have a month,” she told him.
“A month?” he laughed in astonishment. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Less than a month, actually. Difsat says I must make a decision by next full moon or he will make it for me.”
“That’s crazy!” argued Koban, suddenly upset. “You can’t make a decision like that yet. He can’t do that to you!”
“Can’t he? He’s my Family Head.”
“I thought that they were all happy now that you were not staying home in the evenings.”
“They were for a while, but now Difsat says I should make up my mind.”
“Ask him for more time.”
“I’ve begged him. Milapo has even talked to him for me. He is stubborn and says that this is no time to play. He says he has been patient, but I should be pregnant by now.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Koban told her.
She looked up at him hopefully.
“Do you think you can change his mind?”
He thought about it a moment then slowly, sadly shook his head.
“So then, I must make a choice as soon as possible.”
“Who will you choose?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t been thinking of any of them. You know these men better than I. Whom do you think I should marry?”
“I’m not the one who takes meals with different families every day!”
“But then they all try so hard to be so attractive that I don’t know what they are really like. Besides, there aren’t as many choices as I thought at first. Most of the men who played at the dance were Hawks, and you say they can’t marry.”
“Zocan could. He is the oldest, and our clan master would release him. He was the one who played for you first.”
“He is old!” said Jovai, remembering.
“He likes you, though. He has asked me about you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you were stubborn and arrogant and impossible to tame. That you didn’t know how to cook or sew or make good tools or anything and that you didn’t like men.”
Jovai turned on him in horror.
“I thought you didn’t want a husband yet!” he defended himself. “Zocan has to marry right away before he’s too old to make children or be any kind of a husband. He can’t wait for you.”
“Well, now I have to marry right away.”
“So, marry Zocan,” Koban told her, trying to sound indifferent.
“You really think he’s the best?” asked Jovai, confused.
“He’s of the Hawk Clan. We’re all the best. He’s proved his strength and courage many times over, and he’s survived three wars and a very dangerous escape. Besides, it’s a great honor for a woman to marry into the Hawk Clan.”
“Would I have to live with the clan?”
Koban shrugged. “That would be a decision between the clan leader and your family head.”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
“Why should I care?” he answered.
“All right then.”
“All right, what?”
“I’ll marry Zocan.”
“Just like that?” he yelled at her with furious astonishment. Jovai blushed as two women carrying clothes and bedrolls to wash in the river turned to stare at them.
“You said I should,” she reminded him softly.
“What do I know?” he hissed back. “I don’t have to lie with him. I don’t have to kiss his wrinkles and hug his fat and let him slobber and dribble all over me. Besides, he’s ugly. You’d have ugly daughters.”
“Then why did you suggest him?” asked Jovai, close to tears.
“I just meant you could meet him. Lofar, our clan leader, has invited you, a couple times I think. He is anxious to get Zocan married.”
“Then I’ll come and meet him,” she decided.
Milapo frowned when Jovai asked her to accept the Hawk Clan’s invitation for her.
“Why do you want to meet them?” she asked. “Only the old ones can marry you know.”
“Koban says it’s an honor to marry into the Hawk Clan.”
“It’s an honor you don’t need. As soon as Difsat thinks you’re ready he’ll bring you into the Bat Clan. That’s more honor, more privileges. You don’t have to marry an old man. Find someone young and strong who can give you many healthy children and be around to help you raise them. Those old Hawk men, they die before a woman’s breeding time is half over.”
“Even so,” said Jovai thoughtfully, “Since my teacher went so far to suggest Zocan to me, I should pay him the courtesy of at least visiting the man. It would be only polite.”
Milapo sighed sadly.
“You’re going to make your own mistakes, aren’t you?”
Jovai hugged her mother.
“I’ll listen to you before I ignore you,” she promised.
Koban spent several days drilling Jovai on the proper etiquette
for dining with his clan. He went over and over the proper addresses, the things she might talk about and the things to avoid, the way to sit and the way to eat and even, as far as he could know, the way to cook.
“So all these other meals I’ve been taking with families, I’ve been making a fool of myself?” she asked, distressed.
“Does it matter?” he asked, “You didn’t like any of those men anyway.”
“I don’t like to be a fool.”
He even found her skirts, prettier than those her family had yet made her. It was in the typical Kolvas style, to be worn topless except when cold demanded a shawl.
“I won’t wear it without a tunic,” she insisted.
“Why not?”
“I’m used to being more covered. I’ll be too uncomfortable if I’m not.”
“You won’t do anyone a favor by hiding your breasts,” Koban told her, staring at the bulges that pressed forward through her top. “It just makes them…mysterious. Men want to touch what they can’t see.” His hand reached forward to demonstrate, but he caught it, glancing guiltily at the people around, and pulled it away.
“I don’t care,” Jovai insisted. “I see some women wearing tunics over skirts.”
“Only when it’s cold.”
“Then we’ll pretend it’s cold.”
When the day came, she was ready. The clan was larger than a family and had many tents, so when they ate together, they gathered outside.
Zocan was sent to escort Latohva. He was greeted with politeness, but little more by her family. Jovai smiled graciously, especially when she realized that Zocan was much more nervous than she. He was many years older than Difsat but younger than Yaku Shaman, and he was still adequately strong and healthy. The lines on his face accentuated his thin lips, long, straight nose, and strong jaw. They betrayed his face as one more used to frowning than laughing, but her master had been like that and she could see no harm in it. He barely spoke to her, and when he did, he mumbled and fumbled for words. He would only look at her out of the corner of his eye if at all and seemed unsure about whether he should take her arm to lead her or not. At first, she made the decision for him by moving away, practically leading as they walked toward the Hawk Clan area. As they drew nearer, however, she changed her mind and offered Zocan her hand. He took it awkwardly, holding it as something so fragile the slightest pressure might break it. It was small in his palm. She tried to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, but that seemed only to make things worse.
Many eyes turned toward them curiously as they entered the clan area. Jovai looked for Koban and saw him glaring at her and Zocan. His humor seemed exceptionally bad. She decided she would have to ignore him.
It was a strange thing cooking with the women of the Hawk Clan. There were only a few, mostly the widows of the Hawks, only one or two were still wives. All of them were older, near Milapo’s age. They still had some children, but there were no young people her age except some Hawk men who all kept their distance. The women spoke very little and kept their eyes submissively downcast when around the men. They treated Jovai with stiff politeness, reminding her with every gesture of the superiority of their positions, and making no effort beyond that to aid her comfort. There was none of the pleasant chatter she had enjoyed with the Kolvas families. These women made no conversation, and Jovai was too unsure to try to initiate any herself.
The dinner was almost equally as uncomfortable. The men stood as the women brought forward the food, but then the women all left to eat by themselves, and only Jovai was allowed to stay. She was seated between Lofar, the scarred clan leader, and Zocan, who still would not even look at her. The only other men near her were the older ones. The young men, including Koban, sat far away on the other side of the fire.
The food was passed around only once and whatever was left was taken by the children to where they and their mothers ate. No one talked during dinner. Instead, old and young all stared at her, watching her curiously while she ate. The silent attention was discomforting, and she felt sure she was embarrassing her teacher many times over. Milapo had been right. She should not have come.
At a signal from Lofar, the dinner finally ended and the men dispersed. The women came to clear the eating bowls. Jovai automatically rose to help them.
“No,” said Lofar, rising beside her, “The other women can do that. You come walk with me.”
Zocan looked up at his clan head questioningly. Lofar shook his head and signaled him to stay.
Lofar and Jovai walked a long way in silence. It was the clan leader’s privilege to initiate conversation, but he didn’t choose to until they had left the ears of the camp behind.
“What do you think of Zocan?” asked Lofar.
“He is a Hawk and therefore honorable,” Jovai answered politely.
“Will you marry him?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Then tell me honestly what makes you uncertain.”
“He is old,” she answered.
“Is that all?” asked Lofar, as though it were nothing.
“It is the worst, until I know him better. My family wants me to have as many children as I can. I should therefore take a husband who will live at least as long as I can breed.”
“Humph,” said Lofar. “It is a good thing to want many children, but the quality of child is also important. There are no better men anywhere than the Hawks, so there can be no better children than their children.”
“True enough clan leader,” she acquiesced. “You are right. We need both quantity and quality of children.”
She slipped easily and naturally into the spirit tongue and suggested, “You should let your young men marry.”
“Eh?” asked Lofar, not understanding her words. She continued in Kolvas as though she had never spoken any other.
“The best husband for me would naturally be one of the younger Hawks who could give me the best children for as long as I could bear them. But since they may not marry, I should look to the other young men, perhaps to the Dog Clan.”
“The Dogs!” exclaimed Lofar disdainfully, “They are only the ones we wouldn’t take.”
“My teacher would make me the best husband,” said Jovai in the spirit’s tongue again.
Lofar shook his head, as if suspecting that something in his ears might be making him misunderstand her words.
“Even if the excellent reputation of your clan did not speak for you so loudly,” continued Jovai in Kolvas, “the acquaintance I have with my teacher, Koban would have convinced me that you are certainly the bravest, strongest and most honorable of men. But one way or another it seems I must compromise. I will either not have enough children for my people, or I will not have the bravest and strongest to grow into proud warriors like their father.”
“There are many reasons why our younger men don’t marry,” Lofar told her. “You must remember how they serve our people. When they go into war, they must think only of fighting and not be distracted by concerns of wives and children. Also, very many get killed. There is no way to be sure that a young Hawk who still serves and fights will live any longer than an old Hawk whose fighting is, except in emergency, finished.”
“If we were still at war…”
“We are still at war,” Lofar interrupted. “It can surprise us any time. We need all our Hawk men who can serve to continue to serve.”
“The more reason for healthy children to grow into brave warriors.”
“Exactly!” Lofar smiled, pleased.
“But we also need as many as we can get. I am told the strength of the Akarians is not in the quality of their men but in the quantity. They never stop coming.”
“I know, from more years of fighting than you have even lived, that two good men are of more value in a war than twenty weak ones.”
“When the Akarians come, if they come, they will not be twenty, but more likely thousands, or so I’m told.”
“If that is so then we will take every man, weak or strong.”
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“Then my husband, if he is a young, strong warrior, has a better chance of surviving than if he were only an untrained farmer or a dying old man.”
“He has almost no chance at all if he’s thinking of you instead of his enemy.”
“You know your people best, of course,” answered Jovai with a submissive nod.
“I know men,” he answered. “I know how they work.”
“Kolvas men certainly,” she answered. “The people from whom I come have found that the men who are husbands and fathers make the most valiant warriors since they fight not only to kill the enemy but also to protect the families they love.”
“To the Hawk men, all their people are their family. And their immortality comes from the stories that will be told of their courage at facing death.”
“I defer to your wisdom,” she answered politely, then quickly added in the spirits tongue, “which would give me Koban as a husband.”
“Eh?” he said. “You said something about Koban?”
“Only that he had told me of the greatness of your wisdom. He and others. Many speak glowingly of the way you freed the women Hawks to marry.”
“I was never comfortable with women Hawks,” Lofar admitted.
“They praise your wisdom in properly judging situations and bravely doing what needs to be done in them, even when it calls for defying custom. Since our people now need as many healthy, strong children as possible, it is only correct to free the young people to produce them. It is this wisdom, they say, that has made you so famous and admired as a leader in war.”
Lofar smiled proudly at her words. Jovai watched, pleased, as the expression on his face grew distant. She guessed he was looking back over his life at all the accomplishments of which, indeed, his people did speak well. He was a proud man, she had been warned, but one who had every reason to be proud.
“Then you will trust my wisdom enough to marry Zocan?” he asked, after a while.
“I will marry a young man,” she answered, as politely as possible, “one whom the spirits may be pleased to let grow old with me.”