by John Ringo
"And Father Ferani," Genadi concluded, pointing to the septuagenarian at the end of the table.
"Pleased to meet you all," Mike said. "First things first: Within my duties, which means responsibility to equipment and the homes as I understand it, is there anything that you need?"
The men looked at each other for a moment, then at Father Ferani.
"One of our houses needs the roof repaired," Ferani said in Russian, eyeing him warily.
"What do you need to do that?" Mike asked. "And do I pay you to do it or farm it out or what?"
"We need nails and roofing materials from the store," Ferani said, frowning. "And our men should be paid. We will do the work."
"Any other roofs that need repair?" Mike asked.
"Two of our houses leak," Father Kulcyanov said, wheezing slightly.
"Genadi, get a list, take a look at full replacement for all the roofs," Mike said. "Next."
"We have two plows that need to be much repaired or replaced," Father Devlich said, frowning at the apparent largesse.
"Pass," Mike replied. "I won't promise new equipment for the spring, but it's likely. I'll be looking at that with Genadi. Next."
"Our well has to be redug," Father Mahona said. "We will do the work, but it's the responsibility of the Kildar to provide for the wells. The Kildar owns the water. We should be paid."
"Can you do that in winter?" Mike asked, frowning.
"With difficulty," Genadi replied. "The ground is hard."
"What are you doing for water now?" Mike asked.
"Melting snow," Mahona said, shrugging. "What else?"
"Genadi, put that at the top of your list," Mike replied. "Figure something out. If it has to be redug by hand, it has to be redug by hand. But if we can get equipment in to do it, get the equipment."
"I'll look into it," Genadi said.
"Next."
The meeting went on for about an hour and it was apparent that the bank had been neglecting its duties, at least from the point of view of the Keldara.
"I'm not going to guarantee to get all of this fixed this week," Mike said as the list grew. "Or even this month. But it will all get worked on. If there is anything that you can do by yourselves, do it and bill me. If there is something that needs fixing that falls in my duties, get it fixed. Work out the payment and arrangements with Genadi. There is a large operating account with the bank for just this sort of thing. We should be able to cover everything that needs doing. Now, a few things that I need. I'm going to be moving into the caravanserai but the place is so huge I'll need servants. Notably, I'll need a cook, a housekeeper and some yard help. The housekeeper may need some help as well and there are repairs to do on the grounds and on the interior. I'd also like to get some of the junk moved out of the cellars, especially since I have materials I'm going to be moving in. I would prefer the housekeeper be capable of reading, writing and basic bookkeeping. I'll also need some foodstuffs. All of this, obviously, will be paid for."
"We can do all of this," Father Ferani said, nodding. "What is the planting schedule for the spring?"
"That will be up to Genadi," Mike said, firmly. "I think you'll find that we will be buying more, and more expensive, seed than you are used to. If any of you find this excessive, I'll be glad to take up the slack. Again, I'm not promising anything, except to promise that there will be changes. On that note, I'm bothered by the security situation. I intend to fund a militia with both arms and training. Is this going to be a problem?"
"No," Father Kulcyanov wheezed. "Give us the guns and we'll show you what we can do."
"There is more to it than giving you the guns," Mike said. "Some of you might have been soldiers or talked to soldiers. I'm a professional. And there are going to be changes I know you won't like. Among other things, I'll be bringing in female soldiers to train the women."
"What?" Father Mahona snapped. "You're mad!"
"No, I'm a professional," Mike snapped right back. "Women, by and large, aren't good field soldiers. But they can hold fixed positions just fine if you give them training. And that is how this militia is going to work. The men won't just be sitting on their butts but patrolling and finding the enemy before we're struck by them. Then they'll maneuver in the field and strike them from the flanks and behind while the women hold the farms. That's the way to win, not just survive. I intend to make this region a no-go zone for the Chechens because that means they never get to the farms. But if they do, they'll find them bristling with guns, guns served by women."
"In the Great Patriotic War many women fought alongside men," Father Kulcyanov wheezed. "And the women of the Keldara have always been the last line of defense of the homes. This is nothing new."
"There will be new things," Mike promised. "But the training, weapons and equipment that they get will be top of the line. There's no reason for it not to be. If you're in agreement, and Captain Tyurin already is, I'll begin rounding up trainers, weapons and equipment immediately. For the time being, we'll store it in the caravanserai."
"As you wish, Kildar," Father Mahona said. "But if you think women can be taught to fight, I think you are mad."
"What about Mother Lenka?" Father Devlich said, grinning.
"I was thinking that she would make the Kildar an excellent housekeeper," Father Mahona said.
"Woe is the Kildar!" Father Shaynav moaned.
"I think there are better choices than Mother Lenka for a housekeeper," Genadi said, firmly. "Almost any other choice."
"Who is Mother Lenka?" Mike asked, smiling at the interplay.
"Mother Lenka is . . . Mother Lenka," Genadi said, sighing. "She is a force of nature. I think you will like her, but not as a housekeeper."
"You will be staying here," Father Ferani said. "Not returning to America?"
"I am not unwanted in America," Mike said, frowning. "Okay, honesty time. I have enemies. It is one of the reasons I want to train you as militia. Not to defend me, but to defend yourselves if my enemies come for me. But, for now, this is a good place for me to be. It is out of the way and defensible. And with Captain Tyurin's tacit approval, I can purchase weapons for my defense. I can do this in America as well, but this place, I think, is better." He paused and grinned. "Even with the friends I have in America, and they are powerful friends, if I kill a bunch of ragheads there will be questions and problems—"
"And here we have shovels," Father Kulcyanov said, then choked and laughed.
"And here we have shovels," Mike said with a nod. "And it is a reason for me to get a backhoe. Be joyous."
"It is good there is a Kildar again," Father Ferani said, considering him carefully but smiling. "And you are a good Kildar for us. Better than you can know."
"We should bring you to each of the houses if you will, Kildar," Father Shaynav said. "I understand you have a taste for beer. You should try each Family's brew and decide which is best."
"I don't think my first day on the job I should get hammered," Mike pointed out. "But I'll try a bit."
"We shall start here," Father Kulcyanov said, raising his voice in Georgian.
The meeting had been held in the main room of the house with everyone chivvied out except the elders. Now the rest of the Kulcyanov family began pouring in from the back rooms where they must have been packed in like sardines.
"Bring food and drink for the Kildar," Father Kulcyanov said in Russian. His tones were formal and for once he managed to not wheeze, sitting straight in his chair, his face firm. It gave him a trace of what he must have once been and Mike was sorry he'd never met that man. "We greet our new Kildar. Let him be proud of the peoples he now leads. And let us give thanks to the Father of All that a true Kildar has returned."
The women began to prepare food as the younger men of the household lined up to be introduced. Mike had a hard time keeping up with all the names but he figured he'd learn them in time. There were four married men in the household, some of them old enough that their sons were of marriageable age. One of the you
nger ones, Oleg Kulcyanov, hadn't fallen far from the tree. He was a monster, at least six foot six and broad in proportion, heavily muscled and blond with clear blue eyes. A couple of others had the same general build and look.
The meal was simple and light, bread, cheese and a little sava, which seemed to be the local equivalent of a hamburger, probably because everyone knew he was going to be visiting the other families. And he was given a small tankard of beer to sample. He thought it would be much the same as the beer in the village, but when he tried it he was amazed. He'd thought the beer in the tavern was good until he tried this stuff.
"That's great," Mike said, setting down the tankard carefully. The beer was a trifle more bitter than that in the village, but excellent. And, again, with a hint of something he couldn't quite place. "Do you all brew your own beer?"
"The women of the Families brew the beer," Father Kulcyanov answered. "Each family has its own recipe. Every spring they have a contest to see who has the best."
"I can't imagine any of them being better than that," Mike said, shaking his head. "Who is the brewer?"
"I am," one of the older women said, curtseying. "I am Mother Kulcyanov."
"You have an excellent house, Mother Kulcyanov," Mike said. "And a fine brew."
"Thank you, Kildar," the woman replied, curtseying again. "But I know that I do not make the best beer in the valley," she added, sighing. "That would be Mother Lenka. The witch."
"If Mother Lenka's beer is better than this, she must be a witch," Mike said, shaking his head.
Through the rest of the day Mike was taken from house to house. In each he had a small meal and tested the beer. After the first two he realized he was never going to be able to tell which was better. He just praised them all to the heavens. He met dozens of men and a few of the women. In the latter case, he was introduced to married women only, generally the family "Mother." It was apparent that the Families were more like small clans. He wasn't sure what the total population of the valley was, but there were enough young men to make up at least a company of infantry.
The last house they visited was the Devlich household, the one that he'd come to in the blizzard. Father Devlich seemed the most unsure about him but Mike could handle that.
He was seated at the end of the table while the women served and was handed the usual glass of beer. He was a bit tipsy by that point, but he tried it cautiously. And then he shook his head.
"This must be the house of Mother Lenka," he said, grinning. "I'd been warned that Mother Lenka's brew could make an alcoholic of any man." The beer was flat out fantastic. Strong, full and rich—it was truly "liquid bread."
"Hah, you've heard of me already!" one of the older women said with a cackle. She still had a trace of great beauty buried in a mass of wrinkles, and her hair was still black with only a trace of gray.
"Of your amazing beer and great beauty," Mike said. "Also that you're a meek and kind individual."
"Who has been lying about me?" the woman said. Her Russian was excellent; he knew enough to detect a trace of a Leningrad accent, and Mike suspected she was not from the Families originally.
When he was finished with the meal and beer at the Devlich house, Mike and Genadi stumbled out to the Mercedes and made their way up to the caravanserai. While he'd been being introduced, a group of the Keldara had already headed for the castle and when Mike arrived, wanting nothing more than to have a brief nap, the house and grounds were full of bustle with the courtyard filled with colorfully painted wagons.
"Kildar," a woman said as he entered, "I am Mother Savina. If you accept my services, I will be your housekeeper." Mother Savina was a short woman with black hair gone mostly gray and a strong face. "Mother Griffina would be your cook. She is in the kitchen, cleaning. Would you like to meet her as well?"
"Not at the moment," Mike admitted. "Right now, I'd just like to lie down and sleep off the food and beer. And what beer!"
"I will ensure that there is beer in the house," Mother Savina said with a smile. "Will you be wanting dinner?"
"The way I'm feeling now the answer is no," Mike said. "Maybe something light. Are there any beds available?"
"The master suite has already been cleaned and the linens changed," Mother Savina said, nodding. "Please rest. We will try to keep the noise down."
* * *
CHAPTER SIX
When Mike woke up he just lay in bed for a moment, thinking and working his joints. He'd taken some ibuprofen and drunk a bottle of water before lying down and that helped with the hangover. But it didn't help, much, with the joints and they were frozen as usual. Between his time in the SEALs and some of the stuff afterwards, he had massive damage to his body; he couldn't just roll out of bed anymore.
But what kept him in bed at the moment was the situation. There were a billion things to do, both from the point of view of making the caravanserai livable and to getting the farms prepared for the spring planting. He wasn't sure what you did for that, but he knew that if you were going to do it right, it would require equipment. Tractors, trucks, a harvester. He wasn't sure how much any of it cost, but he'd run across something about a harvester being a quarter of a million dollars. He had no idea what a tractor would cost. For that matter, he was vaguely aware that they came in different sizes and he wasn't sure what size was the best for the farms.
At the least, each of the "Families" would need a tractor of their own. Maybe one harvester for the valley. A couple of trucks for each family. No, a truck and an SUV. Both could double for use of the militia.
And that was another question. He was going to need equipment, weapons and trainers. He knew where to get the equipment but he was going to have to shop for the weapons. Not a bad thing, in and of itself, but he wasn't sure how to do it in this remote area. If you were forming a militia, did arms manufacturers send you reps? He smiled at that and then rolled painfully to his feet.
The house was still cold; he added a delivery of fuel oil for the furnace that ran the radiators to his list of things to do, then thought about a more modern heating system. Could you run forced air through stone like this?
The stones of the floor were bare and he made a note that he needed some carpets. Gads, this was going to get expensive, quick. He needed an internet connection. He needed to know if DHL delivered out here. He was almost out of bedding spray, he needed lice shampoo. Medicines in case something went wrong out here in the back of beyond. Trainers . . .
By the time he'd gotten out of the shower he had a general list of things he needed to do and get and his joints were working again. He did some stretching exercises to work out the last kinks, added workout equipment to the list, again, realized he needed something to write on and added general office supplies. A computer. Gads.
He made his way downstairs and passed one of the Keldara, a girl in her teens, who was dusting the rungs of a chair. She was half bent over and the outline of a very shapely ass was visible under her skirt. That reminded him that he was back in a serious lackanookie situation, while being surrounded by beautiful women. Not good.
The girl didn't hear his soft foot treads until he was almost past and then turned around and straightened up with a frightened squeak, bowing to the new boss. He winked at her and was given a blush in return.
Despite being the local baron or whatever, he was painfully aware that the Keldara women were off-limits. Which was too bad; they were real lookers.
He found Mother Savina supervising the girls working on the lower floors and she led him into a small parlor near the harem quarters where a fire was cheerfully warming the room. She served him tea and bread, the bread still fresh from the oven, and he nibbled on that as he listened to her recite what had been done and what needed to be done from her point of view.
"I would like to replace the tile in the foyer," Mother Savina said, diffidently. "But we do not mine marble so we'll have to either replace it all or get some that matches. And it will be expensive."
"I'll add it to
the list and figure out a budget," Mike said. "I've barely gotten a look at the cellars. Do you have any idea what is down there?"
"Oleg checked it out for me," Mother Savina said, shaking her head. "There is broken furniture. Some of it can be repaired and used. Maybe in the servants' quarters. Most of it is good for no more than firewood. There are also many boxes and crates. He opened one and it had papers in Russian, I think documents from when the commissar was here. That is as far as I know."
"We need to sort out what is worth keeping and get rid of the rest," Mike said. "I suppose there is some scholar somewhere who could make something of documents from a minor commissar. If he finds anything that appears to predate the Soviets, I want to see it. Anything broken, throw away or burn. Any military equipment, set aside for me to inspect. Anything the Keldara think they can use, take it. As long as it doesn't pre-date the Soviets."
"Very well, Kildar."
"On the subject of general cleaning," Mike said, clearing his throat. "I hate vermin. Fleas, lice, bedbugs, especially. Buy whatever cleaners you need to get rid of them. I sprayed down the bed upstairs when I knew I was going to be sleeping in it. But wash all the linens and keep them separate to ensure they don't get reinfested. And anyone working in the house on a regular basis needs to take a bath or shower, and use lice shampoo, to get rid of lice and bedbugs. Clean clothes, to get rid of fleas. Okay?"
"Of course, Kildar," Mother Savina said, nodding.
"Um, about the people who work in the house," Mike said, carefully. "I'm a heterosexual male and I haven't been getting a lot lately. You'll probably need some help, but . . ."
"Older women?" Mother Savina said, smiling faintly.
"Unfortunately," Mike said with a sigh. "Happy as everyone seems to be to have a 'real Kildar' whatever that means, I don't think they'd be nearly as happy with pregnant daughters."
"You should have a woman in the house, though," Mother Savina pointed out. "That would make the problem . . . less."