“Very childish, oh yes,” she remarked, sitting up as well. “So Eiren is an independent woman?”
“Very much, more than most Mordanian women. She attended teacher’s college in Erdahn as a girl and then came back to The Shadows, even though she’d had offers to teach at exclusive schools in Erdahn. She had a dream since she was small of having a school at The Shadows and improving the situation for the farm children. Now it’s a well known school.”
“How wonderful! She is powerful.”
“Very much so. I consider her my second mother. She’s reserved but very brave.”
“So you appreciate women who are strong?” Luntigré’s deep black eyes met his.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Hemmett answered frankly, gathering her close. “I love my mother, but she won’t do anything without asking my father if she can. That isn’t the way he wants it, but it’s how she was raised and how her first husband wanted things. I don’t think she could change now. I saw how that stressed their marriage, how it burdened my father.
“I like to think any woman I choose to be with can make her own decisions and manage her own life. Of course we would help one another, but I don’t want to be asked permission if she wants to buy a yard of ribbon.”
“Have no fear,” Luntigré laughed. He smiled down into those lustrous eyes.
“Are you saying you’ll have me?” he asked.
“Let us go on and enjoy being together and then consider it again before you have to leave,” she replied.
Hemmett kissed her.
***
“What is behind your back?” Flori tried to see behind Hemmett, but as she was very small and he was the opposite, she couldn’t see what he held.
“It’s a secret. I got it for a little girl I know,” he teased.
“Let me see!” Flori cried, trying to run around him. He spun on his heel quickly, keeping himself between her and the child’s cromar he was hiding.
Luntigré laughed from the kitchen, where she was cutting a sunfruit for the evening meal.
“Please let me see,” Flori said, giving up.
“Now, that is better – far more respectful,” Luntigré said approvingly. Hemmett knew when to take a cue.
“Here you are,” he said, producing the brilliantly painted and decorated little musical instrument and holding it out to her.
“Oh, you got it for me!” she gasped. “Will it play like yours?”
“It will make the same sort of sound, but you’ll need to learn to play before it sounds like mine does when I’m playing,” Hemmett explained, taking a seat on a low stool so she didn’t have to crane her head back to look up at him.
She was a pretty little girl, much lighter complected than her mother, with with the same black, curling hair. Her father was a Fambrian fisherman. He and Luntigré were deeply in love when she was a young girl. They’d had five years together – then he’d been lost at sea when his boat was destroyed by a massive tidal wave when Flori was only two years old. Luntigré told Hemmett that only the child had kept her from complete despair.
Flori was delighted when Hemmett played his cromar for them and begged him to show her how. Her hands were far too small for his outsized instrument, frustrating her, so he sought out a child-sized version. He showed her how to hold it and then how to finger some simple chords. He already knew she was musical – she seemed to have perfect pitch and loved to sing.
“Let me work at it,” she said intently. He took that as a signal to leave her alone and went to join her mother in the kitchen.
“You are a good teacher,” Luntigré smiled, handing him a bowl of fruit salad to put on the table.
“She’s a good student,” Hemmett answered, listening as Flori worked a basic chord change diligently. She was picking it up quickly.
After dinner, Flori asked him to show her more chords. He did, but cautioned her that going too fast would prevent her from learning well. He gave her a command performance of a hornpipe he’d recently perfected and then reminded her that it was bedtime.
“School tomorrow, little one,” he smiled. He inspected her chording hand and showed her how red the tips of her fingers were. “It takes time to build up calluses like mine. You don’t want to overdo or your fingers will blister.”
She stretched up to kiss his cheek.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked.
“I’ll be here tomorrow and for another week. Then I’m going to Mordania to see my mother and father, remember?” She ritually asked him if he would be there tomorrow and his answer always contained the information that he would not be here forever. Though she’d been tiny when her father died, the loss had scarred her.
“And will you come back?”
“For a short time before I go to work in Artreya.”
“Come now, Flori,” Luntigré said, holding out her hand. “Your bed is waiting.”
“I love you, Hemmett,” Flori said, taking her mother’s hand.
“And I love you,” he smiled. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He put the little cromar beside his, then rose and went to the window.
From this part of the world the constellation called The Weaver seemed to lie on its side. The three brightest stars shone dazzlingly. The stars seemed closer here in this mountainous part of Samorsa.
It had been a wonderful four weeks. He and Luntigré spent much of that time together, attending the Samorsan Games, enjoying restaurants, taking her daughter to parks, visiting her mother and sister. He’d even taken charge of the counter of the stall for short times so that she could have a break or walk her daughter home after school. It was a peaceful and happy life. He had yet to begin missing work – which he knew he would. For now, he was content.
“And she is asleep already,” Luntigré said, carefully closing Flori’s bedroom door behind her. “Stargazing?”
“Thinking. Let’s have some wine out on the verandah,” Hemmett replied.
They settled on a comfortable sofa Luntigré had covered with a brilliant orange and yellow fabric. It was the location of many an afternoon nap or evening conversation.
“So where are we, Luntigré?” Hemmett asked bluntly.
“It is time to decide, I think,” she answered. “You must go to Mordania. It would be shameful to neglect your parents if you are on leave. I understand this.”
“Do you love me?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Yes, I do. Very much. But it isn’t a love like I had for Flori’s father. I think that is a love that comes only once in a life, where you live and die for that person. But I do love you.”
“Is there anyone else?” Hemmett asked. Luntigré shook her head. “You?” she asked.
“No-one,” he answered. “It’s been a while. I’ve been occupied with guarding Katrin since we left and there’s been no opportunity for romance. There never has been anyone I’ve been serious about.”
“So you haven’t found your great love,” she prompted gently.
“I do love you – very much,” he replied.
“I must ask you a question before we arrive at an answer,” Luntigré said quietly.
“So ask me,” he smiled. “I’m an easy man to talk to.”
“I know that well. What are your feelings for Katrin? Is she the great love? Could she be?”
Hemmett stood and went to the verandah railing again. He looked at the stars for a moment, then turned to her.
“The truth? I don’t know. In the past I’ve been so romantically in love with her that I could hardly bear it. Other times she’s like my very dear sister. We’ve been together since I was three. I remember Menders showing her to me the day after she was born. I was sure he had a puppydog in that blanket and you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw this little baby. I loved her at that moment.
“Sometimes she’s like a very dear and close friend. Sometimes it’s all three loves all mixed up.”
Hemmett came back to the
sofa, sat down and looked into Luntigré’s eyes.
“I am not pining over Katrin. Even if she loved me romantically, which she doesn’t, we could never marry. Even if she was removed from the Royal Succession, I still couldn’t marry her. It would never be permitted because I’m common born.
“I’m a realist, Luntigré. No matter what, Katrin is as out of reach as those stars. If she is my great love, I’ve already lost it – just as you lost yours.”
Luntigré nodded. Hemmett waited while she considered what she was going to say.
“If we decided to be together, I would not be with anyone else,” she finally said.
“Neither would I. I’ve never been unfaithful when I’ve been with someone,” he answered.
“The long separations? You would not be free to be here except for leaves. I could not leave my business for long, though I would love to see The Shadows, if I would be welcome there.”
“Of course you would,” Hemmett smiled. “I think we shouldn’t fear the separations. I write a good letter.”
“Then I think that we should be together,” Luntigré smiled. “We’ll have our own lives, but we also have each other. For as long as it gives us joy – and if the fire goes out, we’ll still be true friends.”
“For as long as it gives us joy,” Hemmett smiled.
Simeridon, Artreya
22
Enemy Territory
A
bbot Fahrin finally managed a few moments to sit down at his desk at the temple. He’d seen a letter arrive from Emila de Cosini, but had not been able to do anything more than anticipate reading it.
Now he settled in his chair and smiled as he saw that Emila had embedded a pressed flower in the wax seal holding the folded letter closed. He carefully slid his pocketknife blade beneath the seal and unfolded the letter.
She was growing up so very quickly, he thought as he scanned the lines of feminine but unusual handwriting. Her perceptions of the world were expanding all the time. Of course, he wasn’t surprised after the determination and leadership she’d shown the night of the Failed Revolt. Amazing for such a young lady!
He read through descriptions of plants and places, a paragraph about how she missed her brother, who was taking a few more weeks in Samorsa before joining the family in Artreya. She included a funny story about the other brother bringing home a donkey from Barambos on the train. Excitement about arriving in Artreya and registering at the University, impressions of places and sights. All fresh and laced with her enthusiasm and vibrant sense of humor and sympathy.
He was smiling as he came to the end of the narrative.
Then he blinked.
Please let me know how Martine and her baby and everyone else are – and how you are, my dear friend.
Affectionately,
Katrin, Princess
Fahrin felt his heart lurch with disappointment and anger.
***
“Menders – I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Katrin said quietly, standing in the doorway of Menders’ and Eiren’s room. She was holding a letter, her forehead tight with concern.
“What is it, Princess?” It was so seldom she was this distraught. Menders rose instantly and went to her.
She handed him the letter.
“Abbot Fahrin. I must have signed the last letter I sent with my real name and title. I was finishing it in a hurry so Kaymar could carry it with him last time he went to Fambré for you. I must have written ‘Katrin, Princess’ instead of ‘Emila’.”
Menders scanned the first lines of the letter.
Dear Emila or Princess Katrin,
I must tell you I was unpleasantly surprised to find you are not Emila de Cosini, whom I thought a very honest and forthright young lady. I was under the impression that our regard for one another was such that a deception as base as giving me a false name would not be possible…
Menders sighed and looked at her.
“My dear, this is a man who is hurt and angry lashing out. Look at the word he uses most.”
She looked at the letter but then shook her head in confusion.
Menders pointed at multiple places in the letter.
“Look here – I. And again – I. And here – another I. It’s all about him. This is written out of hurt, Katrin. That means there is hope to sort things out. It’s when a man writes an angry letter full of yous to a woman that there isn’t much hope left.”
“How could I have told him my real name?” she asked, her voice shaking. “It could endanger everyone.”
“Here, sit down. It’s an understandable mistake. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He settled her on the sofa and then sat opposite her in an armchair.
“Now, let’s talk about this and see where you are,” he said firmly. “Do you love this man?”
Katrin shook her head.
“I hadn’t known him very long. I like him very much. Maybe if things were different – but they’re not,” she replied.
“Consider the situation as if you were not a princess,” Menders suggested.
Katrin looked grave.
“That’s almost impossible for me,” she finally said, looking at him with eyes that nearly broke his heart. “It’s always been the great restriction, hasn’t it? It’s been there as long as I can remember. I like him. I enjoyed working with him and talking to him. But I can’t imagine a situation where I would be free to love him or marry him.”
They were silent for a moment. Menders was trying to tamp down the anger that always rose when he thought about how Katrin’s life was constrained. Katrin was feeling hopeless and very unhappy about losing a friend.
“All right,” Menders finally said, having managed to shove his fury back down below the surface. “I think you should recover from this letter for a bit. Don’t keep reading it. Leave it here on my desk – and then, when the sting has eased, you should write to him. I will also write to him, to explain your situation and that you didn’t mislead him out of any ill intent.”
“Have you ever had anything like this happen?” she asked, her hands twisting around each other.
“Yes.” Menders rose and went to the drinks cupboard, unlocked it and took out two small wineglasses and a particular fortified wine that was ethereally sweet and flavorful. “I have. I’ve never told you, but I was very much in love with Cahrin – yes, Cahrin who visits The Shadows with her husband, my friend Olner, and their children. When we were in our teens, we planned to marry. Then I was sent to Surelia.
“I wasn’t able to communicate with her. Now, Cahrin is the daughter of an assassin and she knew, logically, that my not contacting her was part of my mission, but she became insecure and then angry as time went by. I realize now that my youthful brawling ways frightened her as well. With distance and not seeing one another, she began to be angry and chafed at how long it would be before I could be in contact again.
“I ended up with quite a letter full of yous. ‘You do this, you do that, you don’t do this.’ In other words, Cahrin was falling out of love, felt hurt and was shocked at herself for both. So she decided it was because of me.”
“How horrible!” Katrin said as he handed her the little glass of wine.
“It happens all the time when people move away from the first flush of love,” Menders smiled, reclaiming his seat. “There’s a readjustment, where you lose your initial rosy view of the other person. If there’s a desire to let the affair go – that’s when the warts and failings of the loved one loom large.”
Katrin sipped the wine and Menders was relieved to see she was becoming distracted from her own problem.
“Youthful brawling?” She looked up at him.
“I was a scuffler when I was at the Academy,” he smiled. “People would jibe at me about my eyes, or because I was so small then. I was also angry about a lot of things. In no way was I ready to be married, so it’s as well Cahrin had her tantrum. She’s happy, so am I. It was all apologized for and forgiven long ago.”
“Do you think this situation can be fixed?” she asked.
“I do. At this point, Abbot Fahrin is probably cringing that he sent that letter. Not only would it have hurt you, but he also showed his arse, as Kaymar would say. Give him a little time, give me a chance to write a letter to explain and then if you want to write back as well, we’ll send them together.”
She said nothing.
“Katrin – if the man didn’t care about you, he would not have written that letter. He would have dropped you completely and you would never have heard from him again. He cares about your friendship. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been hurt.”
“You think so?” she asked.
“I know so.”
“How?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a man. I know how he thinks. As Cook would say, he’s had his rumpus and now he’s probably sorry. Don’t be tragic, little princess.”
“No.” She sat up and made herself smile. “I got so many good ideas to use at The Shadows from him. I think they would work very well to help the older tenants and when we have emergencies.”
“Tell me about them,” Menders urged.
She began to forget her grief as she outlined a number of strategies to give The Shadows’ older retired tenants assistance. Katrin always warmed to the subject of helping others.
This is what she should do, Menders thought as he listened. She was born to help others.
He deliberately turned his mind from thoughts of prophecies.
***
Hemmett, as was his habit, was out on the train carriage steps before it came to a stop at the platform. He didn’t expect to be met – he wasn’t one for scenes at railway stations – so his eyebrows went up when he saw Borsen impatiently strutting up and down, gold watch chain and walking stick much in evidence.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 24