Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4)

by Olan Thorensen

Anarynd blushed as Maera gently nudged her in Yozef’s direction. He had never touched Anarynd even casually. He put out his hands to her upper arms and held them there. She flinched when he first touched her arms. He then drew her to him and lightly kissed her. She flinched again but closed her eyes and returned the kiss, lightly.

  Not exacting overriding passion on either side here, he thought, but this needs to go slow.

  Yozef then reached over with his left arm and drew Maera to them both. He kissed Maera, more firmly than he had Anarynd, then Anarynd lightly again, and the three of them folded into a joint hug.

  Abbot Beynom Interviews

  The next day, Maera reported that she had spoken with Abbot Beynom to grant permission for the marriage. Sistian and Diera Beynom were both in Caernford “temporarily”: Diera organizing MASH units and contributing to planning medicant needs for the Dillagon redoubt, and Sistian advising Culich Keelan. Sistian’s first task when Culich asked him to come to Caernford was to consider the issue of multiple wives, something that was not forbidden by the Word, but neither explicitly approved. The custom was more common in a few of the northern clans but was rare elsewhere on Caedellium and only in unusual circumstances and when approved by local theophists and authorities. The disaster for the Moreland clan at the Battle of Moreland City had created nearly a thousand widows, and that clan’s theophists had declared multiple marriages allowable to provide for widows and children.

  Everyone expected that future fighting would create more widows. Culich wanted a clear position for Clan Keelan and had asked Sistian to talk with other Keelan abbots and theophists and recommend a policy. Sistian met with Maera only three days after giving a written report to Culich.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, Maera,” said Sistian. “I gave permission at Abersford for Bronwyn Linton to marry into her sister’s family, and there were two requests for such permissions after Moreland City.”

  “I remember Diera telling me about one case,” said Maera. “A smithy killed in the fighting, and his widow marrying a couple whose husband worked at the smithy shop.”

  “Yes. Bellton Nolswyn was his name. He and his wife, Elwela, were close friends with the worker and wife, and they all thought it would best work if they joined. I wasn’t enthused but saw no reason not to approve. The Word takes no position on multiple marriages, as long as children are cared for and all the adults genuinely approve.

  “But each case is different,” said Sistian. “I wonder how this one came about, since Anarynd is not a widow, and there are no children of hers to consider how they will be cared for after her husband died.”

  “It was my idea,” said Maera. “With all the reasons why both Yozef and I are frequently called away from home, I felt we needed a permanent caretaker for Aeneas more than people we’d employed or nearby families. Who knows where we will be? We’ve already moved from Abersford to Caernford, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we move again, possibly to Orosz City, since that’s where the main resistance to the Narthani will inevitably form.”

  “Move to Orosz City?” said the abbot, surprised. “I haven’t heard anything like this from Yozef or Culich.”

  “No one has spoken about it, but Orosz City is more in the center of Caedellium. At some point, Yozef and our best fighting men will have to be there to respond to Narthani moves. The city is in the center of the island, and here in Caernford we’re too far from the northern clans. Knowing how Yozef resisted our move to Caernford, I haven’t mentioned this to him, but I believe he’ll come to the decision on his own or be convinced when the time comes.”

  “That may well be, but is it a strong enough argument for the marriage?” said Sistian, who continued without waiting for a response. “Nevertheless, these are not normal times. I can sense you believe this is a rational decision, but not everything can be decided by logic alone, especially relations among people. Do you understand that this would change the relations among the three of you?”

  “I love Yozef, and I love Ana. Not in the same way, of course. I love Yozef as my husband and the father of Aeneas. I love Ana as a sister, possibly even more than a sister—more like a soul mate. I know things will change, but I have faith that we will deal with any changes.”

  Beynom Quarters, St. Tomo’s Abbey

  “How did the three interviews go, Sistian?” asked Diera Beynom, sitting across from the desk where her husband wrote.

  “I’m not sure how I feel,” said Sistian. “Oh, I didn’t hear anything that would make me not approve of the wedding, given the times we’re in. You know I have grave reservations about multiple marriages, but given that I’ve advised Culich that Keelan theophists should be more lenient in evaluating such cases, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to hesitate with these three. Even so, I have concerns. Maera was very logical and methodical in her reasons why the marriage would benefit all three of them. However, I worry she has too much faith in their individual relationships, and I wonder if she’s fully conscious of how her own feelings might change once the marriage takes place. Sharing a husband with another woman is bound to evoke complicated emotions, even if the woman is as close to her as Anarynd and the husband is Yozef Kolsko.

  “Of the three, she seemed the most assured. I believe Anarynd wants the marriage. It’s tragic her family acted as they did, and the uncertainty she must have about her future probably contributes to her seeing Maera and Yozef as a refuge from the past and a solution to an uncertain future.”

  “And Yozef?” asked Diera. “There are men who might think having more than one wife desirable until they have to live with it.”

  “Interestingly, I believe Yozef is the least convinced. He said his original people do not approve of multiple wives, and he stated his own concerns about the dynamics of such arrangements. However, and it may seem like a contradiction, but I believe his worry about his own role is encouraging. He talked about how he would have to work not to favor Maera over Anarynd. He clearly loves Maera, while—at the moment, anyway—he admits to only respect and concern for Anarynd. He worries she’ll feel left out by his stronger feelings for Maera. I didn’t tell him, but Anarynd told me she doesn’t expect Yozef to love her like he does Maera, only that he comes to have affection for her.”

  “Well,” said Diera, “it’s not as if many marriages of one man and one woman are even based on that much thought and mutual concern. Many happen without either man or woman understanding what’s in store with a marriage and children—as happens when either love or lust is thought the only requirement. Then there are marriages also undertaken for practical reasons, such as a woman needing to be supported, a man needing a wife, or a father or family pushing a marriage for whatever reason. So you’ve given consent?”

  “Yes, and I pray it works for all three of them.”

  Wedding

  Yozef had been surprised at the timing of his and Maera’s wedding. From the time Culich gave permission until the wedding was only a few sixdays. Caedelli custom saw no reason for excessive delay once a decision was made. Thus, the wedding of Anarynd Moreland to Yozef and Maera Kolsko took place only a sixday later. A minor obstacle was that Culich Keelan was not pleased. However, a full-frontal campaign by Maera, along with the support of her mother, albeit not enthusiastic, brought Culich around in less than a day. Not that he had veto power; he had already approved the Keelan theophist edict allowing such marriages, and, hetman or not, he had no veto power over clan members’ personal lives, even if it involved a daughter.

  The ceremony itself was the antithesis of Maera and Yozef’s. Instead of scores of family members, hundreds of other guests, and elaborate settings as befit the eldest daughter of the Keelan hetman, this ceremony took place in back of their home. They stood under an arbor with only fifteen witnesses, in addition to Abbot Sistian Beynom, who performed the formal words and benedictions: Maera’s mother, father, and two living sisters; Carnigan; Gwyned; Filtin and his wife, Nerlin; Wyfor and Teena Kales; Diera and Cadwulf Beynom; Balwis;
and Braithe and Gowlin Reese.

  They held the ceremony at mid-afternoon. Anarynd wore a light green gown, a nod to Yozef’s preference for green and a match to Anarynd’s coloring. Maera also wore green but a darker shade—one that complemented her skin tone and that she knew to be Yozef’s favorite color on her.

  Anarynd stood facing Yozef and Maera. Is this the right thing to do? she wondered. When Maera first suggested it, it seemed an answer to my prayers, but is it? Oh, I realize I don’t know Yozef that well, but I knew the man I was betrothed to even less. I’d only met him twice, while I’ve lived around Yozef for months. And what about me? Do I want a man—any man—to touch me that way again after Erdelin? I remember looking forward to sharing myself with a husband, but that was a naïve girl’s thinking, not knowing what it meant.

  Yozef is a good man, but can I be a good wife? And what about Maera? As much as we love each other, is this going to change that love? There’s still time to back out, to say I’ve changed my mind or need more time. But then what?

  Anarynd said nothing.

  Yozef faced Anarynd with Maera at his side. Is this the right thing to do? he thought. I’ve never been enthused about this, but I let Maera convince me it was rational. That was all well and good in theory, but now? If I’m so doubtful, I should have done something before or, better yet, quashed the idea, no matter how much Maera pushed it. I suppose I could back out, but can I? Does Anarynd really want this, and if she does, what would it do to her, if I now changed my mind? What have I let myself in for?

  The abbot is talking, saying . . . something . . . it must be the ceremony words. If I’m going to stop this, I need to say something right now.

  Yozef said nothing.

  Maera stood to Yozef’s side, facing Anarynd. There was no Caedelli custom of how a first wife would fit into a second wedding ceremony, but Maera had stated that she needed to be standing with them to show her support of adding another wife to their family.

  Is this the right thing to do? Maera asked herself for the umpteenth time. It seemed like such a brilliant idea when it first occurred to me, but what about now? As much as Ana means to me, how am I really going to feel about sharing my home and my husband with her? All of the arguments, pro and con, raced through her mind again—and with no more clear resolution than they had during the last two days.

  Is this really the best thing for Ana? How about Yozef? He has acquiesced, but I’ve gotten no sense he’s enthusiastic—so is this fair for either him or Ana? And what about me?

  Is there still time to stop this? Could I just speak out now before the abbot says the final words? How would that look? Maybe I could pretend to faint, and then when the three of us are alone, I could try to convince them to call off the wedding. The abbot—he’s about to say the words! I need to say something now.

  Maera said nothing.

  The ceremony had lasted only a few minutes. Once the abbot’s words sealed the marriage, the group retired to the dining room of the house for an unhurried meal. There was none of the boisterousness of Yozef’s first marriage on Anyar, but, if anything, the mood had more of a quiet warmth. All of the guests had strong connections to Maera and Yozef, and many had been present at the attack at Maera’s birthday dinner—an evening that had forged bonds as strong as decades-long associations. The Reeses were not as close to the Kolskos, but because they lived on the grounds, Yozef and Maera agreed it was proper to invite the family guard and Aeneas’s wet nurse.

  During the last Anyar months, Yozef had come to take Anarynd’s presence for granted but had noted her personal appearance as an attractive young woman only once the shadows in her face subsided. That had changed in the last few days. Despite his last-minute reservations, which he hadn’t acted on, he couldn’t help but notice her attributes when she appeared for the ceremony: long blonde hair cascading down her back; bright blue eyes under full lashes; complexion lighter than the average Caedelli, close to Yozef’s own; a waist that flared to hips; and below her dress’s neckline, two generous swells that swayed, unsupported, as she walked. During the two-hour meal, he sat between Anarynd and Maera and found himself self-consciously drawn to look at Anarynd. He noted the smooth skin of her hands and forearms as she passed food and gestured while talking, her hair swirling if she turned her head quickly. A chance glance down her dress led to surreptitious attempts to repeat the view—to his embarrassment. Each time, he turned in a hasty swivel to the guests or Maera.

  At sundown, the guests politely bid their leave, along with congratulations, and the three members of the household marriage were left alone on the veranda. Aeneas would spend the night with Braithe.

  Yozef wasn’t sure how to proceed. Once again, Maera assisted.

  “I will straighten up the dining area for tomorrow. The two of you can retire to Anarynd’s rooms.”

  Anarynd had slept in a guest bedroom, but when the marriage was agreed to, the two women had managed to bring in workers to convert an adjoining bedroom into a sitting room—all within four days. The suite had been festooned with flowers for the wedding day, and the scents from the flowers permeated the house.

  Maera gave them both a hug, turned, and went into the house. Yozef took Anarynd’s hand, and they walked into her suite. Her hand was damp and cold. It had only been a sixday since Yozef and Anarynd had first touched, and now it was their wedding night.

  They entered her bedroom, and he released her hand and closed the door. When he turned back to her, she was already undoing the bowed ties on the front of her dress. That answered his confusion about how they would start, along with anticipatory stirrings in his groin.

  Maera busied herself cleaning up after the meal—putting food away into the cool cellar, which had an “ice box.” Yozef had introduced it as a luxury for themselves, but now it had caught on with other houses in Caernford. The small ice-house business he had started brought blocks of ice from the eastern Keelan mountains and stored them in a triple-walled building insulated with straw between the walls. This was the first year of operation, and from the degree of melting, there should be ice all year round, if people were willing and able to pay for it.

  Maera finished cleaning the dishes and putting the linens into the laundry room—all tasks the staff would normally have done. It gave her hands and body something to do and helped divert her mind from images of elsewhere in the house. When she couldn’t pretend that anything else needed doing, she went to their? . . . her? . . . room, dressed for bed, and lay under the covers for more than an hour before sleep claimed her.

  Yozef lay next to a sleeping Anarynd, both of them unclothed. The experience felt odd, as had all of his first such encounters with Anyar women. She had been stiff at first, trembling the first time he stroked her, then lying unmoving as he started. Only when he was about to stop did she tell him not to, and she put her arms around him. After that, it went quickly. She sighed and said, “There, we are husband and wife.” When he moved off her, she turned to her side, facing away, and said, “Goodnight, Yozef.” He lay looking at her back for several minutes, wondering what she was thinking and not knowing what he should feel. Lingering guilt that he had been unfaithful to Maera, even if it was her idea? Had Anarynd truly wanted this, or did she feel coerced, even if not deliberately, by Maera? Was this a good idea, and would it work? As had happened too many times since he’d come to Anyar, Yozef fell asleep pondering too many questions he wondered whether he would ever have answers to.

  Maera woke at first light. As she roused from sleep, she turned in the bed toward Yozef . . . who wasn’t there. The realization jolted her fully awake.

  He’s in Ana’s bed!

  A surge of jealousy and anger washed over her, then receded as she sighed. She knew this was the way it would be, but knowing and knowing were not always the same. She rose to check on Aeneas in his cradle. Braithe must have brought him in during the night after feeding and changing him, without waking Maera. The wet nurse was supposed to keep the baby all night, but eith
er she brought him to Maera by mistake, or she understood that Maera might need to hold the baby the morning after the marriage. Either way, Maera felt grateful. This morning, Aeneas was already awake and amusing himself with mobiles of animals and shapes. He cooed as she picked him up. She checked whether he needed to be changed—he did.

  Then she donned a robe and slippers, carried the baby into the kitchen, and sat him in the “high chair” Yozef had had made. She lit the stove, then retrieved a portion of wheat porridge cooked the previous day from the ice box in the cellar. After she warmed the food and fed Aeneas, his eyes drooped, and she put him in the kitchen cradle. Several cradles were distributed around the house. Yozef had said he saw no reason to bother moving one or two cradles; just put one in each room the baby was likely to be in.

  The staff had been given the day off to lessen awkward moments on the first full day of the newly altered married life. As Maera washed and cut up fruit, a pot of kava staying warm on the stove, Anarynd padded into the kitchen, wearing her own robe and slippers.

  The two women looked at each other, each wondering what to say. Then, as they so often did when reading each other’s mind and mood, both of them spontaneously broke into rueful laughter, walked together, and hugged briefly.

  “Oh, Maera . . . this feels . . . odd, or I don’t know what.”

  “Ana, Ana . . . I’ve been wondering what to say this morning and still don’t know, but at least we laughed.”

  They hugged again, and then Maera went back to the fruit, with Anarynd helping. It kept them busy, but the pile of fruit slices had well exceeded any needed for their morning meal when Maera spoke again.

  “I suppose I should ask how it went for you last night.”

  “It was . . . all right. I was nervous about everything. Certainly, it was nothing like my images of my wedding night. At least, there was none of the nervous virgin about it.” She said the last words with deep bitterness and sadness.