As much as Brison might regret how the stream of circumstances would sweep Yozef toward an unknown destination and turmoil, he knew only God could say which was the long-term greater good.
They continued talking for another hour, alternating between the mundane and the elevated. The final half hour they chanced into aspects of comedy, and Brison learned that Yozef was also a treasure chest of jokes and humor he had never heard before. Brison’s mood grew lighter on seeing Yozef laugh so heartily at funny stories of his own telling and a few classic Caedellium ones.
Only late in the afternoon did the talk move to the Narthani.
“And this terrible struggle with the Narthani, where do you see it ending, Yozef?”
Yozef’s voice was firm. “There are only two possible endings: either the Narthani will be driven from Caedellium or the clans will be enslaved, whether literally or figuratively. There are no other possible outcomes. Anyone who thinks there is a third option is stupid, delusional, or whistling in the wind.”
Brison smiled. “Whistling in the wind? Sistian told me how you come up with such interesting expressions. I think our closest expression to match that one is ‘chopping with the flat part of the ax.’
“Let’s get back to the Narthani. Can your first option be done? Can the clans drive the Narthani away, or is it hopeless? The task seems overwhelming.”
“Hopeless? No. Easy? Also no. No one should fool himself that terrible times aren’t coming and great sacrifices may be needed. There’s hope if the clans, and by that I mean every single person, do their utmost. Every small thing that may seem minor can add to innumerable other small things to have great effects. As a wise man from my people’s past has said, ‘The longest journey begins with a single step,’ and ‘A man who moves a mountain begins by moving a small stone.’” Yozef thought it was Confucius for both quotes.
“What of yourself, Yozef? You’ve obviously become important in the clans’ efforts to resist the Narthani. What if a hetman says to you that he doesn’t see a way forward and you can’t articulate such a way? Then what do you say?”
Yozef’s smile stopped at his mouth. His eyes never blinked. “Then I will say that if no way forward is clear, then we will make a way.”
It was an hour from sundown when Sistian reappeared and said they needed to return. Brison and Yozef rose from their chairs, and to Yozef’s surprise, Brison gave him a surprisingly strong hug. Caedelli were generally not that demonstrative.
“What a great pleasure to meet with you, Yozef. I enjoyed our talk immensely, and I can predict we will have other opportunities. If you’re not too busy, I’d like to exchange letters with you.”
“I would be honored.” And Yozef was both honored and pleased. Despite having to carefully craft answers so as not to reveal anything that seemed contradictory about his history, in many ways it had been a relaxing meeting. Although I hope I wasn’t simply worked by this crafty old guy.
“Yozef, please go and ask young Vellen to get the horses ready for us,” said Sistian. “I’ll say my goodbyes to Rhaedri. Vellen is still down by the stream. Something about fishing being best this time of day.”
“Sure, Abbot,” said Yozef, and off he went to find the boy.
Sistian watched Yozef until he was out of hearing. Without turning his head, Sistian asked, “Well, Rhaedri, what do you think?”
Also watching the strange man, Rhaedri said, “One of the more interesting afternoons of my life, Sistian. He is certainly everything you said . . . ” The elderly theophist hesitated, as if gathering words. “When I started to say ‘and more,’ the words didn’t quite convey my thought . . . perhaps, much, much more is closer to my feeling.”
“That’s the best description the great Rhaedri Brison can come up with?”
The old man laughed. “Oh, thank you, Sistian. I wish you were around more. I don’t see many people here, and when I do, I get so tired of everyone tip-toeing around the great holy man—the Septarsh-in-waiting. One reason I stay here with only a single boy is to avoid all that. By the time each boy is old enough to know how deferential he is supposed to be with me, it’s time for him to move on and another take his place. I could not think, pray, or write among too many such people.”
“And how did Yozef behave with you?”
“Like I was any equal he happened to meet by chance in a tavern. Someone to share a pleasant meal and a stein or two with and then never see again. You are sure he never heard of me before?”
“Well, he may have heard your name mentioned, but when I described wanting to visit you, he didn’t seem to recognize your name.”
“Is he like this with everyone? What about Hetman Keelan?”
“The same. I don’t think he sees a natural difference between people. Oh, naturally he sees the outward differences, and he is invariably polite around those of high station. On the other hand, deferential is something you don’t see with Yozef.”
“Although we didn’t delve into it too deeply,” said Brison, “his basic beliefs in God don’t seem completely in conflict with our own. There are obviously differences in emphasis and probably in ritual, but I get the sense of simply a different approach to the same goals. In fact, I’m having thoughts that some of our theophist brothers would consider bordering on heretical. I wonder if wherever he is from has come to an understanding of God completely independent of our own and yet at the roots very similar. I have simultaneous feelings of excitement about coming to more insight into God, while at the same time fearing that some of what we think and do is a product of ourselves and not God’s will.”
Sistian smiled knowingly. “A conundrum for us all. To be satisfied with possibly limited understanding or strike out into unknown territory that may lead us closer to God.”
“If he wasn’t so . . . innocent, I suppose is the word I am groping for, I might be afraid of him. We know the Evil One can tempt us by appealing to our better natures and wishes, and in that regard Yozef would be a perfect agent for such deception, but I don’t think Yozef is anything except what he appears—a well-meaning stranger with the basic good of all people at heart. Not to say he’s a saint, although I haven’t had the time with him that you have.”
“And if not a saint?”
“By your question, Sistian, am I to infer that you are not averse to considering him to be what the rumors say?”
“One image of a Septarsh is a holy man totally wrapped up in serving and studying the Word and devoting himself to helping others. While Yozef certainly wouldn’t fall into that category, a Septarsh can fulfill other options for serving.”
“Ah, then there is where that leads us.”
“Yes. The question,” said a serious Sistian.
“Is he a Septarsh?” queried Brison with a multilayered tone and expression.
“The concept of a Septarsh has always been more part of the Caedellium legends than the accepted liturgy of God. Until now, I would have kept them separate in my mind.”
“Until now?” emphasized Brison.
“Until now,” agreed Sistian. “Consider what he has wrought. New medicines and treatments. The medicants are euphoric from all they can do for people with pieces of knowledge he has shared. New trades—he calls them industries. It has been most evident in Keelan and the other provinces where it’s spreading. If we can regain access to trade with other lands, Caedellium will become an exceedingly rich land. And then there’s his role in fighting the Narthani. He doesn’t give the impression of being a great warrior, although one of our people who trained him told someone who confided in me that while his strength is deceiving, his reflexes and speed are amazing. Then there are the reports from when the Narthani attacked his home, attempting to kill Hetman Keelan.
I’ve also seen how fast he learns. He only has to be shown or told something once and it’s learned. Yet unlike too many of the clansmen, he hates fighting and will admit to being afraid. It’s his insights into what he calls tactics and strategy that may be decisive. In th
e Battle of Moreland City, without his advice and insights, the Narthani would have crushed us, and the island’s fate to be enslaved by the Narthani would already have been decided. Before that, his role during the raid on St. Sidryn’s was critical.”
“I don’t get the impression he would be suited or would want to be a leader on the battlefield,” said Brison.
“I agree,” said Sistian. “For many reasons. For too many clansmen, he’s a stranger and not like other men. Therefore, they might resist being ordered by him. Although that was my earlier impression, things may be changing. In addition, although he has learned a great deal about our people and is finding a place here among us, including a family, he still doesn’t have the instinctual understanding that comes with a lifetime of experience. Therefore, he would make little mistakes in dealing with men that could accumulate into larger problems.”
“And the news of the Narthani? Hetman Orosz sends me summaries of events. Is it as serious as it sounds?”
“Even without knowing exactly what you know, I can say it is at least as bad and probably worse. The Narthani were defeated in Moreland, by the criterion that they were forced to withdraw. However, they will be landing an army of between sixty and seventy thousand men at Preddi within a few months. Exactly when, we don’t know, and I pray to God it’s delayed to give us more time to prepare. The Fuomi leader assures us these new Narthani include veteran leaders with years of fighting other armies on the mainlands. In addition, the number of Narthani meant to be permanent residents on Caedellium is already around a hundred thousand. Undoubtedly, this number will greatly increase, and the Narthani intend to conquer and enslave us.”
“They were defeated once.”
“We must be honest. They were defeated because the Eywellese made a fatal blunder on the battlefield, and we had Yozef to advise on a tactic. If either of those had not occurred, it would have been a slaughter. Even now, a few of the hetmen believe we would have won anyway. Most do not, especially after seeing the Narthani troops’ discipline and the tactics. Yozef warned us that making a direct assault on their positions would have been catastrophic. You only have to know what happened to the Morelanders when their hetman didn’t follow the agreed-on plan and attacked the Narthani infantry by horse assault. We were fortunate that Stent and Hewell didn’t follow the stupid action of Hetman Moreland. We were also fortunate in the collapse of the Narthani left wing, using advice from Yozef and implemented by Hetman Keelan and our other men.”
“Now, if a new Narthani army is larger and, as you say, experienced in their kind of warfare, what hope is there?” asked Brison.
“I find it difficult to be optimistic. This ‘warfare’ is something new to Caedellium. Certainly, we’ve had far too much fighting over the centuries, with inter-clan fights, vendettas, and raids, but we’ve worked to change that part of our society. This now with the Narthani is completely different. Yozef calls it total warfare. The Narthani intend to kill or enslave every single human being on Caedellium—every man, woman, and child. And in doing so, erase from memory our histories, beliefs, customs, and eventually any record of our existence. Our only hope is to mobilize every possible tool to resist them. I agree with the Fuomi leader’s advice that the only way this can be done is with a central authority. There has to come a time when a clan is told what to do and does it without argument. Anything less and we will disappear.”
Sistian paused to breathe deeply several times. “This is the message that the Fuomi leaders have given us several times—that all the clans must unite. Yozef says the same thing.” Sistian smiled. “He worded it in one of those phrases that he seems to pull out of the air. “If the clans do not hang together, they will hang separately.”
Brison smiled a smile of ice. “Both appropriate and foretelling at the same time.” He took his turn sighing. “To summarize, the clans need to unite under a central authority, and they need to heed Yozef’s advice. The question is how to do that.”
“Culich and I have discussed this at some length. Yozef needs to be at the center of what is decided. Although he agrees he can’t lead men into battle, how the battles are fought must have his ideas and advice. There is one more factor—the Fuomi. Rintala has told me, along with Culich and Hetmen Orosz, privately, that Fuomon might be willing to help only if they believe we have a reasonable chance to defeat the Narthani, and they insist that centralized planning is an absolute prerequisite. How this is implemented needs discussion and thought. One proposal that will be made at the conclave is to appoint a small number of men as the battle leaders, with Yozef as an adviser.”
“How many is small?”
“Either three or five. The idea is that if there is disagreement, the majority position will be followed. There is also the problem of who these three or five would be.”
Brison rose from his chair and walked slowly down the porch. He leaned on a supporting post, stroking his beard while thinking. Finally, he turned back to Sistian. “What about a slightly different proposal? A command council of four with Yozef as adviser. Actions and plans to be determined by the majority of the council. Decisions would then need a 4–0 or 3–1 vote. In the case of a 2–2 vote, then and only then would Yozef have a vote to break the tie.”
Sistian stroked his beard. “Hmmm . . . something like that might work. It would put Yozef in the center of planning, but he wouldn’t have an initial vote. That might placate a few of the hetmen who hesitate to give a non-hetman such a role, even if he is supposed to be a Septarsh. Of course, it still has to be agreed on.” He switched hands with the stroking, raised an eyebrow, and looked at Brison. “And you know what I am going to suggest next.”
Brison scowled. “Come to Orosz City.”
“If this is going to be accepted, we need all the weight we can to get the clans to agree. If you could attest that Yozef is a Septarsh, should such a declaration be necessary to come to an agreement—would you be able to do that?”
“Then we are back to the question of whether or not he is a Septarsh,” said Brison. “What if I don’t think he is or I’m unsure?”
“At least, you can show support for the concept of a central organization with Yozef in some role. I know you don’t like to leave your valley, but there are times when one’s own wishes are not important. This is one of those times. You’ve hidden yourself here for too long as it is.”
Brison surprised Sistian by giving him a warm smile. “As it happens, my scolding friend, I’ve already been thinking similar thoughts. It’s time for me to spend at least a few months a year back among people. And, never being one to put off action when a decision has been made, I’ll be coming to Orosz City tomorrow. I’ll stay at the St. Wyan’s. Should the need arise for my input into any general matters, I’ll be available by tomorrow evening.”
“You old schemer!” exclaimed Sistian. “If you knew you were coming to Orosz City, why didn’t you save us the trip here?”
“I hadn’t completely decided on when to go, and I wanted to have an opportunity for my first impression of Yozef to be here, away from all that’s going on outside this tranquil valley and before he had the chance to plan how to talk with me.”
They stopped talking as Yozef and Vellen led the horses up to the house. They offered final parting words, and the two horsemen trotted out of the valley, rejoined by the three escorts. It was dark when they arrived back in Orosz City—the last half hour almost complete blackness, with lights from gradually more numerous dwellings showing the way. Seeing the city lights, they slowly descended the last slope from the mountains.
CHAPTER 12: CONCLAVE
Core Hetmen
A small meeting of hetmen took place that same evening. Culich made sure the meeting site had a good supply of the new kerosene lanterns and a stock of one of the finer liquors to come out of Yozef’s distillery complex. Both were a reminder of the changes wrought by Yozef’s years on Caedellium. Five men sat at a square table, a small glass in front of each man. They had had one shot alr
eady and would refrain from another until they settled business. Culich and Sistian sat side by side on one side of the table; Feren Bakalacs, the Farkesh hetman on a second; Welman Stent, a third; and Tomis Orosz, the fourth. Of the five, four had already discussed the topics. Stent was the exception. Everyone considered his participation crucial, with him being hetman of a major clan and by rationale of his province’s population and wealth, as well as Stent’s border with both Selfcell and Moreland. His newcomer status was not lost on him, as evidenced by his wary expression.
Culich cut right to the main topic of their meeting, as well as Stent’s unease. “Welman, you, of course, know that the rest of us here have discussed ideas on how Caedellium should meet this new Narthani invasion. And I am sure you already know much of what we will propose—both from previous conversations with some of us and from your own assessments. So let’s get that out of the way and come right to the point. We believe the only hope of our surviving as a people is if the clans can agree to a unified command in fighting off the next Narthani invasion.”
Stent started to say something, until Culich held up a hand to forestall him. “And your question is exactly what form this command would take.”
Stent just nodded, waiting to hear Culich continue.
“It cannot be that each clan or even a group of clans carries out actions independent of the others. We all saw what happened at Moreland when one clan broke from the agreed-on plan and attacked the Narthani center. If we continue with such independent action, we are almost surely doomed. The raids we carried out after the attack of Swavebroke were a start, but only a start. Much more is needed. Abbot Beynom here visited with Rhaedri Brison today. The topic of how to centralize came up, and Brison thinks it’s important to consider a possible structure that has been discussed among the Five-Clan hetmen.”
Stent’s eyebrow rose slightly on hearing that Brison had been consulted. The theophist’s reclusion was known throughout Caedellium, and while he had not made public appearances for many years, he was revered throughout the island. Brison’s support would give any proposal more weight.
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