“Are you saying I mistreat her?” he countered.
“You don’t speak to her unless it’s absolutely necessary. It has gone on for two months.”
The sharpness of her tone startled him. It was easy to forget that although Eiren was reserved, soft spoken and gentle, she was born a farm girl and had spent her first thirteen years contending with all the difficulty, hard work and privation that could bring. He had never known her to shrink from a fight if she believed she was backing a worthy cause.
“Are you forgetting what led to that?” he asked.
“Of course not. I remonstrated with her myself after she insulted you and Borsen. I was terrified the night she ran away with that man. All I could think of was that the baby I helped raise, that the child I loved had been taken by someone who would do terrible things, who might even kill her. But I didn’t withdraw my love from her.”
Hemmett was silent as the waiter delivered their orders and then withdrew.
“Eiren, I love Katrin. But I’m afraid of my anger. I was the person who was betrayed in this. In all honesty, I don’t know if I can trust her again.”
Eiren pushed her plate aside, as if the idea of eating was suddenly nauseating.
“Hemmett, you’ve been having love affairs since you were sixteen,” she said abruptly. “Some of them very trivial, some that were volatile, none of them truly serious until you met Luntigré. Yes, we knew about it – as your sponsor to the Military Academy, Menders was kept apprised of what you were doing.
“There’s nothing wrong with you having that experience. The point I make is that Katrin never had that sort of opportunity to learn about matters between men and women. Her station makes it impossible.”
“I know that.”
“But you don’t consider what it means,” Eiren continued. “If she goes to a social occasion, she’s escorted by Kaymar. If she dances, she usually confines herself to men in the family, just to avoid the men who are interested only in her station and money. She was never kissed by a man until this Godson turned up. She never even experienced puppy love, had a disappointment and learned how to judge romantic situations.”
Hemmett looked away from her. He wrapped his hand around his coffee cup as if seeking warmth.
“She thought she was in love with him and that he loved her,” Eiren said, lowering her voice. “He gave her every reason to think so. He manipulated that situation with nothing more than the intent of getting her into his bed.
“She was a fool, but not malicious. She didn’t act to hurt you, Hemmett – but your behavior to her leading up to that night certainly pushed her toward what she did.”
Hemmett thought of all the times Katrin tried to apologize for her insulting words on the day Ermand Godson called him a servant. He’d refused to listen, though she persisted, absorbing one rejection after another from him, then apologizing again.
“She also saw the letters you wrote inquiring about possible alternate postings.” Eiren sugared her coffee and stirred it with more vigor than necessary.
A horrible shiver ran down Hemmett’s spine.
“How?” he asked.
“You left them for Menders to countersign the morning you left for Samorsa. They were on his desk, not even folded. She’s in and out of his study all the time, as you well know. She went in to get something and saw them. She didn’t touch them, but you know how she takes in an entire page in a glance. She came out of that room dead white, Hemmett.”
“I didn’t leave them there to – oh gods!” He closed his eyes.
“We know you didn’t. But the damage was done. She’s been very quiet and she’s been crying at night. She’s defeated and withdrawn. Katrin is my child, as she’s Menders’ child – we’ve raised her from the day she was born as if she was our own. I can’t let this continue.
“If you’re going to leave, you might as well do it now. Save all of us the discomfort of living in a house where you’re refusing to speak to your sister, where every meal is uncomfortable. We’ve had two months of that. If the damage is so great that you can never forgive her, it’s time to end it with no further torment for both of you.”
“Did Menders send you to tell me this?” Hemmett’s head went up and he looked directly at her.
“If we weren’t in public, I’d slap your face,” Eiren responded heatedly. “When does anyone, even Menders, act through me? I am speaking for myself.”
Hemmett looked away from her again, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drew a deep breath, attempting to calm himself.
Eiren gathered her things rapidly.
“I remember a day when that monster, Madame Holz, was sent to The Shadows to be Katrin’s nurse, so she could start toughening her,” she said in a low tone. “Katrin was only six months old. Menders was keeping her away from that woman and went out into the vegetable garden where your father was hoeing beans and you were trying to make a pile of worms. You saw Menders and ran to him, demanding to see Katrin. When he knelt so you could, you patted her blanket and said ‘My baby!’ You loved her so much and you were always gentle with her, as Menders taught you to be.
“Well even though you not laying a hand on her, you’re harming her now.” Eiren rose from her chair. “Maybe you should remember all the years where you and Katrin have been so close and try to forget the last couple of months where she was being a foolish, lovestruck young woman who was tragically taken advantage of.”
She started to walk out of the restaurant but was startled when Hemmett reached out and caught a handful of her skirt, as he used to when he was a little boy, to get her attention.
“I need to think for a while, Mother,” he said in a low tone. “But I should walk you to the house.”
“I’m able to walk back by myself,” she said, modulating her voice toward kindness. “I hope to see you later.”
He nodded and released her.
***
Katrin stopped trying to read her book.
It was hard to concentrate. It was a glorious spring day. The school term was over and it was a few days before the beginning of the big Lunar Festival, marked with a great deal of celebration in the form of street processions, people wearing costumes and much consumption of food and drink.
Katrin had not been sleeping well since she’d found Hemmett was inquiring about other postings.The finality of seeing those letters, the knowledge that lasting damage had been done to their friendship had stolen her energy and enthusiasm.
She tried to hide this. She feigned interest in the upcoming Festival. She had continued at the University after her dreadful night with Ermand Godson and during the time Hemmett refused to speak to her. That didn’t mean she was happy about it.
Strangely, though she was unhappy, she felt peaceful. She knew she had done all she could from her side to make things right with Hemmett. She was thankful for all Menders and Eiren had done over the last two months, to say nothing of dear Doctor Franz, Kaymar and Ifor. They had all been kind and understanding once tempers cooled. Borsen had forgiven her right away and they were close again.
At first she wanted to drop her University classes to avoid encountering Ermand. Menders kindly but steadfastly refused.
“My dear, if you should encounter him, behave as exactly what you are – a lady. Acknowledge him as any other acquaintance, and go about your business,” Menders told her. “Don’t let him know he’s hurt you. His sort thrive on drama. You’ll be all right, Katrin.”
She’d looked dubious and he’d kissed her cheek.
“My girl who has faced so many things needn’t be afraid of a walking puffer fish,” he smiled. The image was so absurd that she had to laugh.
But at her next philosophy class, Ermand Godson was nowhere to be found. The philosophy professor announced that Mister Godson was called home on family matters and would not rejoin the class. Considerable snickering around the room puzzled Katrin. She was relieved that she didn’t have to face him, though in a way she was almost disappointed in
not having a chance to consider him a walking puffer fish to his face.
Now she felt very sure Hemmett was going to go away, that she would never see him again, that he would never speak to her or be her friend again – all because of her obsession with Godson. Trying to accept that and move past it was very, very hard.
She got off her bed and wandered out into the living room, pausing to kiss the top of Menders’ head as she passed his chair, where he was intent on a book. He smiled, reaching up to touch her cheek. Then she let herself onto the balcony overlooking the street.
She couldn’t help smiling as she heard Ifor snoring resoundingly in the room he shared with Kaymar. He was housed on the opposite end of the floor from all the other bedrooms for this very reason. Ifor had refined snoring to an art and he did it with vigor. Sometimes you could hear him two houses down as you walked up the street. The only person it didn’t disturb was Kaymar, who was probably lying right next to him, napping or reading, while what sounded like a walrus crossed with a large fog horn roared, blatted and honked in his ear.
Katrin drifted from one end of the balcony to the other, idly watching the activity in the street below. Maybe not so idly – she knew Hemmett would be arriving today. The morning train from Wenslas should have come already, with plenty of time for Hemmett to walk to the house.
She tried to assure herself that he might have decided on a later train, but there was a sinking feeling around her heart.
The letter she had inadvertently seen on Menders’ desk gave Luntigré’s address as the most immediate way to reach Hemmett. If one of the people he had corresponded with about alternate postings replied immediately, he would have received the answer there.
If that was the case, it was likely he would go directly from Samorsa to his new posting. Katrin had tried to accustom herself to that possibility since she had seen the letter.
She leaned against one of the elaborate grillwork pillars supporting the balcony roof. Preparations were being made for the street processions that would begin three days from now. Colorful decorations were going up, elaborate lanterns were being hung from hooks along balcony railings and from posts along the streets. A street peddler pushed his cart of fruit along, calling out a singsong description of his wares. Katrin briefly considered lowering the basket on a rope attached to the railing to buy something from him, but decided against it. She didn’t have much appetite lately.
After looking up and down the street several times, squinting against the morning sun, she sighed and sank down on one of the elegant wicker chairs ranged along the balcony. She crossed her arms on the railing, staring unseeingly at the house across the street, swallowing against a lump in her throat.
She had to get used to this. She had to.
Someone whistled piercingly down the block. With all the Lunar Festival decorating going on, there were a lot of men calling and whistling signals to each other. Katrin leaned her head on her arms and closed her eyes.
Another whistle, closer – long, almost painfully high-pitched and impossible to ignore.
“Willow! What are you doing hanging all over the street like a heartbroken grundar!” Roared at the top of a pair of huge lungs in a bold baritone. That voice.
Katrin bolted upright, staring down the street. The sun was growing brighter as the morning mist burned off. The pavement was still wet and glistened with reflected light. When that happened, she understood why people said Artreya had golden streets.
He was there. Bigger than life, looking up at her with that wicked, slightly crooked grin, standing on cobblestones the sun was turning into gold.
He threw his arms wide, holding them out to her.
Katrin flew through the living room, past Menders, who jumped from his chair, past Kaymar, who opened the door of his room, down the stairs, through the door and out into the street.
People dodged as she made a beeline toward him, never stopping or swerving until she was in his arms.
Hemmett spun her around and then held her close. She was crying but so was he.
“You came back! You came back!” Katrin sobbed.
“I did,” Hemmett whispered. “I always will.”
***
Katrin sat between Borsen and Hemmett in the Three Elks Tavern on an early autumn night. They were celebrating the end of exams with what had become their set, the merchants’ and artisans’ sons and daughters Menders had told her should be her friends at the University, not the spoiled wealthy brats who had clustered around Ermand Godson.
Without Godson functioning as a lodestone for the privileged students, Katrin and Borsen had found themselves to be very popular. Hemmett was included by their friends without a second thought.
Hemmett was singing an extremely bawdy sea chanty, accompanying himself with his cromar. Borsen joined in on the choruses, chiming in with a tenor descant to complement Hemmett’s deep bass baritone. As always, young women clustered around Hemmett, hopefully eyeing his face and body and then dejectedly noticing Luntigré’s ring on his wedding finger. They had not officially married, but were entirely exclusive.
Katrin caught the eye of Willem Robbins, eliciting a smile from that pleasant young man. They had been involved off and on since he had been rotated back to guard the family in Artreya some months back. The affair was not a particularly passionate one but it was warm and comfortable. Willem was a kind, considerate man.
Katrin had been incredibly relieved to find she was capable of sexual fulfillment, but she couldn’t passionately love Willem. As Luntigré would say, it wasn’t the ‘great love’.
Willem knew it too. It had hurt him at one point and caused a rift between them that they made up. It was nice to have a confidential friend and it was nice to have someone to sleep with. The problem was, Katrin wanted more. She wanted not only a friend and companion, but a lover and passion as well.
She’d mentioned it to Menders and he’d smiled a little ruefully.
“Just like me,” he said. “Did I influence you so much, little one? I tried not to.”
“You’ve never talked to me about it to any large degree,” she’d responded, surprised.
“No, that’s true, because I didn’t want to influence you. Well, I can say this now – enjoy what you have and treat him gently. As a Kaymar’s Man, he will be returning to The Shadows with us and I’ll do all I can to keep him there, but eventually he will have to be rotated elsewhere.”
Willem lifted his wineglass and raised an eyebrow, his way of asking if she’d like another glass. She shook her head, shuddering a bit.
She was very careful of her wine consumption after the night of the Lunar Festival. She, Hemmett and Borsen had gotten completely sozzled while they watched the processions from the balcony, with Menders and Eiren away with friends. Relief at being forgiven by Hemmett had led her to be incautious and she drank far more than she ever had.
The next day was terrible. She could only sit and stare fixedly at the wall. Hemmett insisted on drinking a bottle of cologne as an antidote for his hangover and sat around with his head wrapped in a wet towel, looking like something that had died. Only Borsen verged on normal, eating about half of his usual enormous breakfast and cleaning up the wreck they had made of the lounge and balcony during their debauch. He’d been holding that over their heads ever since. Menders was convinced Borsen had been weaned on kirz, because the amount he’d drunk that night should have killed him.
Willem laughed a little and went to get his own glass refilled.
The vacant seat at the table afforded Katrin a view of the room. It was full of students from the University as well as young soldiers and sailors from the Artreyan Military and Naval Academies. The night was young and no-one was getting reckless or obstreperous yet.
Thank the gods it was cool, verging on cold tonight. Katrin had felt quite badly during the worst of the summer and spent a lot of time at the house, out of the sun. She’d also managed to pick up a mild eye infection that lingered. She’d resorted to continu
ally wearing a pair of dark glasses, which she normally used only for bright sunlight. She was recovering, Doctor Franz said, but needed to be careful until she did. The light in the tavern was not particularly bright, but it hurt her eyes and she was grateful for the dark lenses.
With the late Artreyan autumn really setting in she felt much more energetic. Her lungs appreciated the crisp air and she was able to wear her beautiful blue jacket. She always felt happy when she had it on.
Suddenly Katrin was aware that someone was looking at her. A quick survey of the place revealed a young man on the far side of the tavern. He was staring at her fixedly. Seated next to a man in naval uniform, he was dark haired with a moustache, dark eyed and wearing a jacket that would make Borsen scream and run in horror. It was made of green velvet, looped extravagantly with black braid. The buttons were shaped like silver skulls.
She drew Borsen’s attention to the man, who obviously wasn’t sure if he’d made eye contact with her because of her glasses.
“Do you know who that is?” she asked Borsen after prodding him in the side three times, distracting him from alternately singing the descant to Hemmett’s chanty and conversing with a girl who pursued him determinedly despite being told that Borsen was nancy.
“No I’ve never seen… oh gods, that jacket! Must be one of the Artreyan assassins-in-training with those tasteful silver skull buttons. Pah!” Borsen turned away in disgust and returned to his conversation and singing
. Katrin tried to ask Hemmett, but he was too interested in his singing. No-one else was close enough or alert enough to see Katrin trying to catch their eye.
She looked back at the young man and saw he was similarly engaged, nudging the man in the uniform next to him and pointing toward her, obviously asking who she was. He looked back at her.
This time their eyes clicked and held, despite her dark glasses. Suddenly, Katrin knew what passion was. Her breath caught in her throat.
He was rising from his chair slowly, his eyes still on hers, a smile growing on his face. Katrin glanced over at Willem, who was talking to a girl near the bar – good. She didn’t expect any trouble. At this point they were mainly friends but better to avoid misery, if it could be done.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 31