“Thank you, Ser Fuller.”
Maera hadn’t missed Fuller’s surprise when she suggested she eat with Yozef and the workers at the foundry. Her forthrightness came to the fore.
If you want to know something, silly—ask!
“Ser Fuller, you looked surprised when I suggested I accompany Ser Kolsko to the foundry to eat there. Please tell me why?”
Fuller was obviously ill at ease with the question. She looked straight at him and waited, with the “I’m the hetman’s daughter and you need to answer” look she had cultivated.
“Well, you’re the hetman’s daughter. One doesn’t expect someone like you to eat mid-day meal with workers, particularly sharing their food.”
“But Ser Kolsko does it?”
“Yes, but Yozef is . . . different.”
Maera could tell she was on to something. What she didn’t know, but her instincts told her she needed this man to open up.
“I’m very curious, Filtin . . . may I call you Filtin?” she said, in as friendly a voice as she could manage.
Filtin blinked several times in surprise that the hetman’s daughter wanted to call him by his first name, something usually reserved for after persons were better acquainted.
“Why . . . that’s fine, Sen Keelan.” It never occurred to either of them that he would use her first name.
Confident that she had established personal rapport with Filtin, she continued. “So, Filtin, obviously Yozef is an important person, not only here in Abersford but for all of Keelan, due to the many innovations he has introduced. Yet all the workers seem more familiar with him than one might expect. Why is that?”
“Well, he’s just . . . Yozef,” drawled out Filtin. “I don’t know, exactly. I know he gets annoyed if we are too formal with him.”
“So, he prefers the familiarity, that’s it?”
Filtin’s defensive posture and tone changed to ones more assertive, though still respectful. “Pardon me if I seem presumptuous, Sen Keelan, but Yozef doesn’t see himself as of a higher stature than anyone else. He’s just Yozef. He’s respected for what he does and who he is but doesn’t expect different treatment. Pardon again, Sen Keelan, but many people expect to be treated differently, if only because of their station.”
Maera was momentarily taken aback. This was the bluntest statement she had heard of the distance among the different peoples of Keelan by status. She didn’t like what Filtin said but recognized that he might be taking a risk in being so blunt with her.
Is Fuller’s forthrightness the influence of Kolsko?
“I appreciate your honesty, Filtin. I also recognize such honesty may not always be welcomed by the receiver, but I assure you that’s not the case with me. I’m curious, though, and I’d like similar honesty: is my family treated with respect only because my father is the hetman?”
Filtin shook his head. “Certainly, that’s part of it, but there are few people of Keelan who don’t recognize how fortunate we are to have Culich Keelan as hetman. We hear too many stories from other clans not to appreciate him and know his dedication isn’t common everywhere.”
Filtin hesitated, then continued, “You’re given respect and deference because you’re of the hetman’s family, and respect for him transfers to you. Of course, there’s always awkwardness for some people when they interact with people of status well above their own. What you don’t see in Keelan is deference given out of fear of angering someone of higher status. And then there are those who will act cautiously around you, because they’re uncertain about saying something or acting inappropriately.”
Hmmm . . . this needs some careful thinking.
“Thank you, Filtin. Again, I truly appreciate your honesty.”
As Fuller had indicated, the mid-day meal started awkwardly. Kolsko escorted Maera to the cannon foundry, where his five workers were joined by the soap-making staff, and the men paused in their work to eat. Maera’s reservation about eating food donated by the workmen was ameliorated when, on the way, Kolsko stopped at a bakery and bought several loaves of fresh bread and fruit at a street market. Their arrival at the foundry was greeted with a similar welcome as in the distillery shops, with casual and friendly greetings to Kolsko, followed by a more distant manner when he introduced her.
They sat on boxes around a temporary table made out of sawhorses and boards. Kolsko broke out the bread and the fruit, and friendly banter ensued, while he “bartered” for cheese and dry sausage. They ate, while he gave Maera a briefing on what they were attempting at the foundry and their progress. As he did, different workers added updates and comments, and before long, Maera felt they had forgotten her presence and engaged in their usual working discussion.
Interesting. He laughs when he recounts what he sees are mistakes he made, and he readily listens to his workers. It’s like they work together and not for him.
As for the cannon project, Maera could see the arguments Kolsko summarized on why cannon could be important, but she hadn’t the experience or the basis to evaluate the ideas.
Father needs to hear more about this. Father and Vortig Luwis.
After the foundry, Kolsko walked Maera to the bank and left her with Cadwulf, who explained the rationale for a “bank.” Cadwulf also strongly expressed the need to have formal procedures for handling the coin coming in from Kolsko’s trades. It was the first time she had any clue about his finances.
Merciful God! This Kolsko might already be the wealthiest man in Keelan, and getting more so all the time! He might even have as much coin as our family’s direct possessions. The extent of his workshops here is only a shadow of all his enterprises now that he “franchises,” as he calls it, to shops elsewhere in Keelan and other provinces. I doubt Father has any clue to any of this and needs to be more aware of what is happening here in Abersford.
Maera had also recognized the prosperous look of the entire area. Not just Abersford, but the farms and the abbey complex.
It must all be interrelated. From what Cadwulf says, most of the coin that comes in goes right back out for Kolsko’s different shops and projects. Certainly, the foundry is not bringing in any coin, but he supports it, because he thinks it may be important in the future. That’s something Father might do, but few other hetmen.
After her introduction to Kolsko’s finances, the rationale and operation of the bank, loan procedures, and double-entry bookkeeping, Maera returned to the abbey, escorted by Cadwulf. There she spent the rest of the day in the abbey library. Her intention to read faltered, as she stared out a window for several hours and went over in her mind what she had seen that day.
Her impression of Sen Kolsko had definitely changed. At mid-day meal yesterday, when the Beynoms introduced them, she’d thought him quite unimpressive. That was wrong. Maera still didn’t have a strong feeling for him as a person, but what he’d accomplished here in Abersford in a relatively short time was nothing short of extraordinary.
Father ABSOLUTELY needs to pay attention to what’s happening here and meet this Kolsko.
Genes
Maera discussed Kolsko often with Diera Beynom. The abbess was simultaneously enthused and frustrated by the new knowledge that dripped from him.
“Yes,” said Diera, “the ether putting patients to sleep and ethanol for antiseptic have been God’s blessings to us, not to mention what he’s told us of his people’s understanding of the human body.”
“I hear a big but in your voice, Diera.”
“Yes, but it’s also maddeningly frustrating dealing with him. Sistian and I both believe him honest and honorable, yet half the time I think he’s hiding pieces of knowledge from us. Why, I don’t know. The other half . . .”
“The other half, what?”
Diera shook head. “I don’t know. He acts like single pieces of information suddenly come to him. I’ve heard it said that it seems he’s hearing something no one else does, although I think it may be he’s searching his memory. At times, he says he simply can’t remember the an
swer to one of our questions, and he’s always apologetic when that happens.
“Sistian told me that Yozef once came to him for advice about revealing beliefs and knowledge of his own people and how not to arouse trouble here on Caedellium if he did. He worried for both his safety and disturbing our society. Sistian and, more recently, I have advised him. I think you’d find it interesting to come to a meeting tomorrow with me, Yozef, and one of our scholastics, Brother Willwin Wallington, who studies Anyar’s animals and plants. Yozef has had Willwin growing peas to study their flower colors. They’ve both been secretive, although Willwin is floating on air recently. They’ve asked to show me the results of whatever they’re doing.”
The four met in a small greenhouse, another of Yozef’s introductions. Pots covered one table, each one growing a single pea plant with white or purple flowers.
Brother Wallington spoke, with Yozef standing to one side, his face impassive.
“Yozef came to me one day and asked how we thought characteristics are passed from generation to generation. There are practical examples of how we assume this to be. A herder breeds with a specific bull because the offspring are better than those of other bulls. A wheat farmer saves the seed of better-yielding plants, in hopes future generations will also have higher yields.
“He posed the question of how to explain the basis of these expectations. It was hardly a novel question, and one neither I nor, as far as I know, anyone else has a good answer. This led to a related question dealing only with humans. How can a husband be certain his wife’s children are his? Ignoring simply her word she’s been faithful.”
Wallington shuffled his feet and stole a glance at Maera. “I hope I don’t offend you, Sen Keelan, but this gets into facts about the relations between men and women.”
Maera smiled. “Please don’t worry, Brother Wallington. I’ve studied medicant texts, plus I’ve been around animals at Keelan Manor enough to know the basics are the same for humans and animals.”
Wallington blushed. “Yes, well, anyway . . . a common belief, first proposed by the great Landolin scholastic Churnwicmon, is that the essence of the fetus is in the male’s semen and transferred to the female’s womb to be nourished and grow. In this proposition, everything that the new life is to be is contributed by the male. However, there are obvious fallacies.”
“I know of Churnwicmon’s proposition and the counterarguments,” said Maera. “I can see them in my own family. I and my two younger sisters look more like our mother than our father, while my sister Ceinwyn clearly has our father’s nose and ears. And when our stable master breeds horses, he doesn’t just consider the sire, but also the mare.”
“Right,” enthused Wallington, “and that brings us to the fundamental problem of explaining how both the father and the mother contribute to offspring. That’s when Yozef came to me and suggested breeding this wild pea you see on the table.” He waved his left arm over the plants. “In fields, we see these two colors in different ratios, depending on location, but only these two. Yozef showed me how to breed pea plants and urged me to keep detailed records of the offspring. Peas grow fast, and it’s only taken four generations of data to see three clear relationships. When I showed my results to Yozef, he confirmed them the same as found by one of his people, a man named Mendel.”
“Gregor Mendel was his full name,” said Yozef. “Diera, you and Sistian will be interested that Mendel was a monk, a position among my people that’s similar to a theophist. He also did scholastic studies.”
“Yes,” Wallington gushed, “and this Mendel declared three laws of inheritance. Naturally, since he discovered them first, we’ll keep his names.”
Wallington and Yozef went on to describe Mendel’s laws of segregation, dominance, and independent assortment. Diera listened carefully, but Maera was intense.
“That’s all very interesting,” said Maera, “but it’s descriptive. It doesn’t tell us how the essence of the color trait is transmitted. What is it that confers color?”
“The exact question I asked,” said Wallington, and all three turned to Yozef.
“Color and all traits are conferred by what are called ‘genes.’ They’re tiny particles within the pollen or the semen, which is how they’re transferred to the female.”
“If both male and female contribute, the female must also contain these particles in her womb,” said Maera. “Does that mean that only one of the male or the female has the particle for the trait, like pea color?”
Yozef started his next words with the phrase he used to describe what he couldn’t yet explain to the Caedelli. “As far as I remember, every person has two genes for every trait. One gene comes from the mother and the other from the father. It’s the combination that confers the final characteristic.”
“Of course!” shouted Wallington. “That explains how Mendel’s three laws work and how both parents contribute.”
Maera’s scrunched her forehead, gnawing on a knuckle. “No, there’s still something missing. The two pea colors might be explained by your Mendel’s laws, but not all traits are so specific . . . countable. I don’t know an exact description of what I’m thinking.”
Yozef was impressed. He’d seen that Maera was clever and curious, but she had cut to the heart of more advanced genetics.
“I believe you’re getting to an important point. With pea color, we see only a single gene pair, one gene each from both parents, which controls a trait, but many traits involve multiple genes—two, five, or even more.”
“My God,” said Wallington. “The complexity!”
They continued for three hours, going over the pea experiments once more, then back to discussing genes, Mendel’s laws, future pea experiments with more traits, and equal contributions by both parents. Yozef didn’t introduce DNA, that some traits involved thousands of genes, or that it was the female egg and not the womb that provided genes from the mother. However, he came away with further evidence that Maera Keelan was an intellect not to be underestimated.
Maera Investigates the Raid
It was several days before Maera saw Kolsko again. She busied herself with intended library readings and studiously interviewed participants in the abbey’s defense from the Buldorians.
Sistian was of little help. As good an abbot as he was and as important an occasional advisor to her father as he had been, the raid was his first direct experience with life-and-death fighting on that scale. More informative was Denes Vegga, the local magistrate and titular area military commander. He had organized the defense, and for the first time, Maera got a clearer picture of Kolsko’s role. Vegga had despaired at their chances of defending the abbey complex walls against so many raiders. Two-thirds of the area’s fighting men had been away on routine patrol or responding to a feint by the raiders on the neighboring Gwillamer Clan, which Keelan was obligated to assist. He hadn’t thought there’d be any chance of repelling the raiders until Kolsko’s suggestion to trick the Buldorians into the abbey courtyard saved them all. There, the defenders stood behind hastily thrown up barricades and fired from three sides into the knot of raiders pouring through the main gate. Those raiders not felled in the initial volley had to race to and fight over the barricade, while the defenders shot, stabbed, and hacked at them. It had been short but vicious. Eleven defenders died behind the barricades, but more than one hundred Buldorian bodies carpeted the courtyard.
The rest of the raiders withdrew to the beach, possibly assuming the abbey’s defenders more numerous than anticipated. Whatever their thinking, the Buldorians reboarded their ships anchored offshore and sailed away.
Vegga shook his head, still disbelieving they had survived.
Maera made careful notes and drawings of Vegga’s description of the action; her father would want as much detail as she could gather. He already had numerous written and verbal reports, but he’d tasked her to prepare her own evaluations.
The details of the battle itself were as different as the people she spoke with, as
all of them focused on what was right in front of them[O1] She’d wondered whether Yozef had martial experience elsewhere on Anyar. How else would he have recognized how to defend the abbey? There, information was sparse. Few had any recollection of Kolsko’s role in the fighting, except impressions that he’d been at the barricade and wielded a spear. The only direct comments she got were from an enormous man named Carnigan Puvey, who implied that Kolsko had no familiarity with weapons and had said sardonically that Yozef had helped defend Puvey at one point and hadn’t killed anyone on their side.
After searching for other witnesses to Kolsko’s role, she stumbled on a menacing-looking man named Wyfor, who had not been present for the raid but had trained Kolsko to blade fight months later.
“Oh, I don’t doubt Yozef was essentially useless during the defense,” said Wyfor, “but Carnigan says Yozef stood right there by his side, even though scared shitless. Pardon my language. That tells you something. Shows you Yozef has guts or is stupid, depending on how you view someone with no idea what he’s doing, standing in front of charging Buldorians.
“It was later when he came to me to learn how to defend himself. I don’t think he’d ever touched a blade before, to do anything except use a knife at meals. I thought him hopeless at first, but there was never any doubt about his determination. I beat him something fierce for several months, but he kept coming back.”
“So he did learn to fight? He’s not as helpless now as you say he was?”
Wyfor stared at her face for moments. She could almost see his mind evaluating what to say next.
“I didn’t say this to him, and you shouldn’t either. He learned faster than I thought possible. There’s no substitute for real fighting, but he’s as dangerous a person as possible for someone with no experience. Besides being smart and determined, he’s fast and strong for his size. By the time we finished, I would’ve had no hesitation fighting along with him. I didn’t praise him too much to keep him worried, in case he ever gets into another situation where even the littlest confidence could get him killed.”
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 7