The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2)

by Olan Thorensen

  He had smelled flowers, though there were none in the room. He dipped two fingers into the bowl and applied the oil.

  Yozef would later question himself about the next few minutes, not that Maera ever did. He might criticize himself, while also recognizing that given the customs of where he was, his actions were appropriate. It sometimes helped.

  He climbed onto the bed and moved between her legs. When his hand first touched her leg, she twitched at first, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “Tell me when you are about to . . . do it. I need good lungs full of air for those outside to hear me.”

  This is about the strangest wedding night I could imagine, thought Yozef, fighting to maintain minimal restraint. He knew she was nervous and apprehensive. About what? For herself at what he was about to do? Or that she might not put on the appropriate show for the outside audience? This wasn’t how he imagined a first experience with any woman and definitely not a wife. Yet somehow it fit Maera. No matter how she felt inside, she would think things out and plan how to fulfill her role.

  Despite his unease, nature was nature, and the evidence of his readiness to fulfill his role was evident before both of them. There was no foreplay. He guided himself to her. Her eyes widened at the first touch and probe. Her breathing quickened and she tensed, as he eased into position against her. By now, his breaths were heavy with anticipation, and his blood throbbed.

  “Ready, Maera,” he stated, full-throated. “Here we go.”

  She closed her eyes for the first time and took a deep breath. As she finished inhaling, he thrust. Her eyes flared open and her scream almost knocked him off her. Even though he expected a yell, it was still a jolt.

  “Sorry, Maera!”

  She swallowed and took several deep breaths. “It’s all right, husband. I’m all right,” she said in a strangled voice. “Are you all the way in?”

  “No.”

  “Then do so.”

  He thrust a second time and then a third before he was fully inside her. The second and third screams were progressively less, but he found himself idling wondering how far the sounds reached. Now that he was fully inserted, his concern returned. They touched the full length of their bodies, with most of his weight supported by arms and knees.

  “Maera, are you all right?”

  She managed a small smile. “Only the first one hurt that much. I think my yell was sufficient for custom. The other two were for you.”

  “For me?” he repeated, astounded.

  “I know my reputation as a cold bitch. Now they will think more highly of you, since you dominated me.”

  It was one of the weirdest conversations Yozef had ever had. “Somehow I don’t see anyone dominating you.”

  “As long as you realize that, husband, then I can live with whatever the others think.”

  Yozef felt Maera’s hands on his back, as she embraced him and clasped her legs onto the backs of his thighs. “Let us complete the consummation. It’ll enhance your reputation more if they can hear you at the end.”

  With those instructions, Yozef slowly withdrew partway, then pushed back. She winced a little the first time, less with each successive thrust as the pace quickened. It didn’t take long for him to come with a final firm thrust and an exclamation he didn’t have to fake.

  Yozef relaxed, breathing heavily, his face buried for the moment in the nape of her neck. She stroked his back and whispered, “Now we’re husband and wife. May our marriage bring both of us satisfaction and children.”

  He rose slightly to look her in the face. “I think it will.”

  “I know,” she said. “You’re a good man. Not like Caedelli men, but I think our marriage will be good for both of us.”

  It wasn’t an expression of love. Maera didn’t express feelings easily, and neither of them had said the word yet to the other. It would have to do for now. The marriage was based on respect and advantages. While neither spoke of love, both hoped to themselves that love would come.

  He withdrew and could see blood on the cloth and a little on them both. Maera rose from the bed and went to a washbasin and cloth towels on a table nearby. She wet two towels and used one to clean herself. Yozef was, once again, startled when she came to the bed where he still lay and, instead of handing him the other towel, she proceeded to matter-of-factly also clean him. When finished, she donned one of the two robes hanging on the wall and handed him the other.

  “Now we need to display the wedding bed cloth for the final confirmation of my virginity and consummation of our marriage.”

  Yozef pulled on his robe, and Maera handed him one end of the wedding cloth she had pulled from the bed. “We’re to go outside and hang it over the railing for all to see.”

  Yozef simply went along, as he had since the proposal. They opened the twin doors to the second-floor balcony and stepped into the evening air. Though the sun had set over two hours ago, there was more than enough light from a bonfire blazing thirty feet from the house and a dozen kerosene lanterns lit and hanging from trees. A cheer went up when the balcony doors opened. As they draped the cloth over the railing, more appreciative calls rang out, along with a few Yozef would have considered in extraordinarily bad taste back on Earth. But here, as before, Maera took it all in stride, clasped his hand, and raised both of their hands high in a sign of triumph. Another, even louder, cheer rang out, and they went back inside.

  Once the doors were closed, the voices outside vanished for the first time since they had arrived at the cottage. She noticed him listening, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, she explained, “Custom is that once the consummation is confirmed, the guests and the family leave the married couple alone for the rest of the evening. They will now go back to the festivities and let the men finish getting drunk.”

  She smiled. “Speaking of drink, I wouldn’t mind one right now. Could you pour me one?” She pointed to another table across the room at a glass decanter of reddish liquid and two ornate glasses. “The glasses are ours to keep as a remembrance of this night.” She spoke as if reading from a text, and Yozef recognized a ritual.

  “A remembrance of this night. The two glasses represent that now we are a pair. The clearness of the glass represents that everything we are and do should be open between us, with no lies or deceptions. The red wine represents the wedding bed blood and my virginity on this night. The sturdy flagon represents your strength for your wife and children. The intricate design on the glasses represents my providing care for our children and my husband.”

  She took the glass he offered her. When she started to raise it to her mouth, his hand without a glass stopped her. “Here are some of the customs of my land.” He positioned her hand and glass at her eye level, gently clicked the two glasses together, and then crossed their arms, so each could drink from his or her own glass with arms crossed.

  “To life!” he exclaimed and brought his glass to his mouth for a swallow.

  Maera did the same and then laughed. “So, do we do this every time we drink?”

  Yozef chuckled. “No. The glass touching could be for any occasion; the arms crossed is only for special times.”

  There was no other furniture in the cottage, except the bed and two tables. The newly married couple sat on the bed and talked of inconsequential things for the next hour, accompanied by several more glasses of wine. As usual, it was too sweet for Yozef’s taste, although the flavor itself was rich and aromatic. When Maera finally started dozing off or passing out—he wasn’t sure he could tell the difference at the time himself—he took her glass from her. She simply slumped down on the bed and was asleep. He covered her with another of the cloths folded on the table and followed her within seconds.

  Maera awoke first the next morning. The sun was up and coming through the lace curtains that were another remembrance they would hang somewhere in their house. She turned in the bed to face her . . . husband. It was an odd feeling, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about her new state. Traditionally, t
he Caedelli man was the master of the family, with the wife obeying, though in real life it depended on each couple. Sometimes the woman was lucky, and the man was considerate. In other marriages she knew of, the husband controlled everything about their lives. She even knew a few cases where the couple had equal authority in the family, and it was rarer still when the wife ruled.

  Maera couldn’t conceive of being totally controlled by anyone. Even her father, the hetman of the entire Keelan clan, recognized limitations. Although the family head, he always listened to her mother, who knew that even when Culich made a decision his wife didn’t approve of, he took Breda’s wishes and opinions into consideration. All within limits, of course.

  Maera had made it a plan by the time she was twelve that she wouldn’t marry anyone she didn’t agree to. She might agree out of duty if necessary, being whose daughter she was and cognizant of the political realities of her station and family, but it would ultimately be her decision.

  Her father had unwittingly fostered her independence. If she had had brothers, maybe things would have been different, and she would have slid into more traditional women’s roles. However, Hetman Keelan had no sons to train to take his place when the day came to move on from Anyar and meet God. When it became apparent that she was unusually bright, her father provided an education far beyond what even sons would have had, and Maera quickly exhausted the initial tutor her family provided. Her further education was by her own efforts and interactions with scholastics, with whom she could carry on complicated discussions by her eighth year.

  She had joked last night that many thought her a bitch. She spoke her mind and didn’t acquiesce to others if she didn’t agree, especially to pompous men or men who thought women should be seen and not heard. It also didn’t help that she was far smarter than most men and more educated than all but the senior scholastics. Even in those cases, while she might not know as much in their specific fields, her breadth of knowledge was wide-ranging, especially about the history of the Caedellium clans. By the time she had passed puberty, her father found her keen observations of people, general knowledge, and analytic ability invaluable assets to him.

  Now, lying in bed next to her new husband, she wondered, how would her life change as a wife and when she became a mother? To be tied down with children for the next few decades of her life was not something she eagerly anticipated. She knew she would love her children, and she knew that there would be help from staff hired by her family or Yozef. But she would never again have the level of freedom to study or to be part of running the Keelan Clan the way she had been. How would the pluses and minuses balance out? She didn’t know.

  She looked again at Yozef as he slept. The sleep of the dead, she thought. Her mother always complained that men seemed able to sleep anywhere, as if the world didn’t exist. Yozef looked that way now, his face relaxed, his breathing deep and regular, his chest and abdomen rising and falling. Last night had been . . . different. She knew that wasn’t the word she wanted but didn’t know of a better one. He had been considerate, as she knew he’d be. Still, the first time had been more painful than she’d expected, and she hadn’t had to pretend what came out of her mouth. Regardless of what she’d told Yozef, the second and third screams weren’t totally faked. She was sore now. Everyone said it faded quickly and that only the first time was like this.

  She’d known what to expect. Women talked freely among themselves, and her mother had spared no details. Neither had Anarynd. She and Ana whispered speculations about what men and women did together when they were younger, and then Ana went into great detail on the few occasions she experimented with this thing called sex. Ana’s experience was limited, and she was circumspect on those occasions, but she relayed every detail to Maera, including that while the first time might not be pleasant, Ana’s few later experiences encouraged anticipating marriage.

  Yozef turned. He’d be waking up soon. It was time for the last part of the ritual, the new couple’s morning meal with the family. Maera sighed and stretched. Only God knew the future, so she needed to remember to focus on today. She remembered the Word saying, “If you concern yourself with today, the future will take care of itself.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, holding the cloth to her chest, and bounced a little to see if Yozef would waken. Nothing. Stronger bounces elicited stirrings, and a third time led to an eye opening.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” she said slyly.

  “Did I have a choice?” he groaned. “Isn’t it too early? We didn’t get to sleep until late.”

  “My, my. Don’t tell me I exhausted you already?”

  He opened one eye and saw her smiling. He opened both eyes, blinked several times, then rubbed at the corners. “As I remember, we’re due to a Keelan family breakfast this morning. Am I to take it this is my alert to get ready?”

  Maera frowned. “This is important. Last night was the wedding, and today you formally become a member of the Keelan family and myself as Maera Kolsko-Keelan for the first time.”

  “Kolsko-Keelan? You’ll have a compound last name?”

  “It’s the custom for hetmen and boyermen’s daughters, though not always other clan members. The compound name reminds everyone of the important linkages, particularly in interclan marriages.”

  He still had not moved from under the cloth, so she pulled it off him and wrapped it around herself.

  “Okay, I’m getting up.” Yozef sat up, then swung off the bed and onto his feet in a single motion.

  How do men do that? Maera thought. Go so quickly from deep sleep to activity. Maybe it’s just because they’re men and need to be ready to act quickly in case of danger? Then why not women? Oh, well, another of those mysteries.

  Maera went to the cottage door, opened it, and poked her head out. A young boy of about nine was sitting on the front step and sprang to his feet when he heard the door. “We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Maera said, and he dashed up the path to the main house. She closed the door again.

  “Come. They’ll be ready for us, so we need to dress.”

  She went to a wall from which a series of racks held two piles of clothing and shoes. For Yozef, she put his attire on the bed: a pair of brown trousers, a plain white shirt, and shoes. Next to her sat a pile with a white shift, a long green plain dress, and slipper shoes.

  There was an awkward moment—one she hadn’t anticipated. Where would she dress?

  Yozef read her mind. Softly, he said, “Wife, there’s nothing I didn’t see last night.” He rose and dressed.

  After hesitating, Maera shed her robe and pulled the shift and the dress over her head and shoulders. Yozef made no pretense of not watching, and although she overtly ignored him, the rise in color made it plain she was aware of his scrutiny.

  When dressed, she looked at him almost defiantly. “Are we ready?”

  “One custom of my people is that married couples sometimes hold hands while they walk together.”

  Maera was unsure until Yozef added, “It’s a sign of affection and indicates the two are side by side and not one ahead of the other.”

  With that explanation, Maera took his hand, and they walked to the manor house. The main parlor had been turned into a dining hall. Waiting for them were two long tables along the length of the room and a small cross table at the head with four places set—two already occupied by Maera’s parents.

  Yozef chuckled. I guess it doesn’t take rocket science to figure out where we’re supposed to sit.

  They sat looking at forty to fifty faces staring back at them, Maera’s family and prominent clan members attending the wedding. Yozef had been resigned to hearing more crude comments, but everyone was a model of decorum. Culich Keelan rose and raised a glass.

  “Today we welcome into our family and clan a new member and the husband of my daughter, Maera Keelan, who is now Maera Kolsko-Keelan.” With that, he downed the contents, followed by a unison “Welcome,” and thud, as the roomful of glass bottoms hit the tables.

  M
aera had cued Yozef on what was coming, so he joined her in rising and raising their glasses and, with a “To Clan Keelan, may it prosper in God’s grace,” downed the contents. Applause and offerings of congratulations concluded the formal custom.

  For the next two hours, courses were brought in, and Yozef ate until he thought he would explode. He was thankful that the toast was the only alcohol. Kava, the coffee substitute, cleared his head, and he kept eating at a steady pace, as seemingly everyone in the room came to personally congratulate them and converse for a few minutes. By the end, he lost track of who was who or what they were saying. What he did grasp was his acceptance into the family and clan, perhaps a semi-honorary member, since he married in, although in nevertheless.

  At mid-morning, the wedding breakfast finally came to an end. Culich rose, this time to thank the guests and send them on their way. Some would be heading home immediately and others spending the night before a longer homeward trip the next day. A few of the family’s closest relatives would stay various lengths of time at the main house, in cottages on the grounds, or elsewhere. The final part of the wedding was sending off the married couple to the bride’s new home. Since there was no Caedellium custom similar to a “honeymoon,” Yozef had had to explain it to Maera and her mother. She had run interference for them with Culich, who still had not quite accepted that they wouldn’t be living in Caernford. Culich’s initial proposal had been that he would provide a house for them near the manor. Yozef had politely but firmly declined, saying that his working shops were in Abersford, and it would be more efficient to live there. There had been a mildly heated discussion following this, resulting in a compromise that they would live at Abersford until Maera became great enough with their first child, and then they would revisit moving to the capital. Yozef had no intention of moving. Maera thought she could eventually convince Yozef but sided with her father that the first child be born at the clan’s center.

  It took another two hours for Yozef and Maera to extricate themselves from well-wishes and tearful goodbyes from her mother and sisters. Even Culich had damp eyes by the time Carnigan drove the carriage from the manor, accompanied by two wagons of Maera’s possessions and wedding gifts, eight outriders, and two matched riding horses gifted by an uncle.