The Aebeling

by O'Neill, Michael

  Oisin agreed. ‘I hope so.’

  Daray was curious. He had spent a lot of time with the Elfina filly – she only tolerated him looking after her – much to his annoyance. Stable hand to a horse was well below his pay grade. ‘I don’t understand why they are so different…’

  ‘Ahh, Priecuman, have you never heard the legend of the Elfina? I thought everyone knew…’

  He shook his head.

  Derryth sighed. ‘The Priecuman live so few years they never have time to learn anything. Anyway, it was during the time of the first Casere, and the forces of the Ancuman were equally matched with the forces of the Casere, and it seemed likely that the Casere would lose. On the morning of what was destined to be someone’s last day, a rumour spread that a Gyden was seen walking amidst the horses; she was seen to do nothing but pat the horses; and those that she patted were the pintos.’

  Daray protested. ‘Is it not true that Gyden are unable to interfere in human affairs?’

  Derryth laughed again. ‘So much you know, so little you understand. Gyden have always influenced events – we are but leaves in a wind. Of course you Priecuman believe in so many Gyden, it is hard to know if the breeze is blowing for you or against you and for someone else. Anyway, they say her touch created the Elfina; and those that rode the pintos into battle were victorious – the Ancuman were routed where they might have been victorious. The Casere granted all surviving Elfina to the Twacuman as a boon.’

  Conn was confused; ‘This doesn’t match up with the history of Meshech … which Casere is this?’

  ‘Not any that lived here – that story came with Osstan.’

  ‘So there was a Casere in Osstan’s homeland – as well as Twacuman and Elfina.’

  ‘That is our understanding.’

  Daray was still unsure. ‘But what is so special about them – I know that she is probably the most intelligent horse I’ve ever seen – and I swear she actually understand what I say sometimes…’

  ‘There are many things said about an Elfina – that there is no safer horse to ride and that it will die – and kill – to protect its rider. It is impossible to steal an Elfina because it will not do anything it doesn’t want to do. It would rather die. Which is why they died out over two hundred years ago – they refused to breed – and why we ride normal horses.’

  That knowledge also confirmed to Conn that there was something that Oisin wasn’t telling me – her getting captured was just too easy, and for a ten year old girl to attempt the three week journey all by herself seemed extraordinary. There were so many questions and so few answers.

  Conn asked why they were at the border waiting for them, as he looked at the two girls riding side by side.

  Derryth shrugged. ‘We got your pigeon and when Caewyn found out she said she wanted to come and meet you.

  ‘Any reason why?’

  ‘No – and of course I didn’t ask…’

  By the time they arrived in the main village, they had dozens of riders with them; news was spreading fast, and when they arrived in front of the keep; the streets were lined with Twacuman; with even more interest than when he had arrived. But Oisin didn’t flinch. She rode with Caewyn and they behaved like sisters.

  Brina, Elva and Jowan were waiting for them. Brina walked to the horses and Caewyn introduced Oisin to her grandmother. Brina had tears running down her face. After greeting her warmly, Brina addressed Conn, whipping away the tears off her cheeks.

  ‘Again Feorhhyrde, we have much to thank you for; you have succeeded in joining our two halves, and the Twacuman are whole once again. Thank you.’

  The Aebeling stopped to look at Daray. ‘Caewyn told me that you brought a young Lykian with you. Welcome. What is your name, young man?’

  Daray again surprised Conn with his togetherness. He bowed and answered. ‘Aebeling, I thank you for allowing me into your forest, I feel greatly honored. My name is Daray ap Calbhach il Erbil.’

  The Aebeling was thoughtful. ‘I knew your grandfather, Conlaoch il Erbil. I called him a friend. But that was a long time ago, when we roamed the lands. Welcome to Halani, young man, too few Priecuman come to Halani for the right reasons.’ She turned to lead them inside.

  Beside Brina stood Elva and shying standing behind her was the soon to be three year old Jowan; he was holding her leg and peering at the new arrivals, his blue eyes flickering from person to person. Conn was making faces at him and he was giggling behind her leg.

  Oisin saw him there and held out a hand. Surprisingly, Jowan disengaged himself from his mother and grasped it. Oisin smiled.

  ‘Is he your son?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And his father is the Feorhhyrde… how amazing. I think we will be good friends.’

  ‘Thank you’, Elva said, ‘I’m sure he can have none greater.’

  They turned and followed Brina into the longhouse, which was now full of people. Brina was soon in her usual position sitting at the front. She directed them to sit with her.

  When she raised her hand, the hall went quiet.

  ‘Kinsmen, today is the day that we have hoped for many years – the day that our parents and their parents hoped would happen in their lifetimes but it didn’t – but it has happened in ours; and for that we rejoice. But we are also filled with sadness. It is fitting that the Wordloga remind us of the story of our people.

  The Wordloga stood and spoke in his slow monotone. ‘Over five hundred years ago, Torhallur, the second son of the Wordloga of Halani, my ancestor, took Ingeulfur, the daughter of Sherric, Casere of Meshech, as bedda and together they created the nation of Piada as their home and home to many of our kin. For the next three hundred years, there was regular contact between the two domains, but after the fall of the last Casere, contact has been more difficult – until it stopped completely. The last visit was our Aebeling Freyotta, who went to Piada around 660 and returned with Ulfkarl as her bedda. That was the last that we have heard from our cousins. We have waited for the contact for two hundred years. Today is a great day; our clans are reunited once more. However, we have sadness in our heart as we have learnt that Oisin is last of her line, and our Aebeling has no son to offer Oisin as bedda.’

  He signalled to the drummers and they commenced a deep slow beat that resulted in the crowd bursting into one of the saddest songs or laments that Conn had heard. It continued for about 10 minutes, and spoke of the suffering and illness that plagued the people since the separation. There were tears everywhere, and he thought they really needed some bagpipe music to add real suffering. After the song, Oisin rose to speak; her little frame rocked by emotion, tears rolling down her face.

  She was still a child but she composed herself, and spoke heart-fully, ‘We have a song that is similar; it also speaks of the time that our people stopped being one and became two; when those that left for the great forest failed to return. I too am filled with sadness as I am the last of my line, and Caewyn the last of hers, and my house has no son to give to Halani.’ She turned and looks Conn. ‘In Piada, we have so few people we have little to offer anyone, and we are in decline. Of course, if they knew that the Feorhhyrde had returned...’

  Conn was glad she left the statement open because he wasn’t sure what he could do.

  The Wordloga continued. ‘Indeed, both our houses have failed. When there has been a need, an extra son was always available to be bedda to the other. We have had so sons since Freyotta. We have waited for the line of Sherric to provide this house with a son. If that house has no son, then the wind has misguided us.’

  The Wordloga, Hanavan, sat down with a worried look on his face; he had seemed much happier earlier.

  Conn had a question. ‘If Ingeulfur became bedda to your distant uncle Torhallur il Halani – surely then your family is destined to be the provider of the son for Oisin.’

  He shook his head. ‘We are all too old – my son has a different destiny – one that is no longer clear to me. Fate would never generate such a mismatch such as D
erryth and Oisin. No, the son is to be found somewhere else – and we now need two. I think we have misunderstood the words of our ancestors. We need to reflect on the consequences.’

  Conn still had questions, but the festivities began soon after, and it was late when Conn retired with Elva to her longhouse. She commented on his mood.

  ‘Feorhhyrde, you seem concerned.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m beginning to feel like a chess piece’, and he described the game to her, ‘But I’m not sure if I’m playing or being played. It would be good to know – and if I’m being played, by whom?’

  Elva laughed, ‘One of the problems with Priecuman is that they think they can control their destiny; but a leaf does not control where the wind blows it. Twacuman know that all you can do is try to find a soft place to land. Come; let us retire to intercourse; that will ease our thoughts for this night at least. Just for you, I’m going to take off all my clothes.’

  Conn had heard a lot worse ideas in his life.

  The next morning Conn ate breakfast with Derryth and his father the Wothbora.

  ‘I think the Rakian are responsible for the loss of contact between Halani and Piada’, Conn suggested, ‘I’ve been told that the practise of enslaving Twacuman is only a couple of hundred years old – before that it was not considered acceptable.

  Hanavan agreed. ‘It is true that the Casere would never have allowed such a thing to happen – but after the last Casere died, there was no one to stop such things.’

  ‘And the Ancuman – could they be involved?’

  They both looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Ancuman – there are no Ancuman in Meshech.’

  “I don’t think that is true anymore. I think there are Ancuman in Rakia.’ Conn told them him what he heard said by the slaver in Tegeste. Those Priecuman knew who the Ancuman were. It was strange that Oisin hadn’t mentioned it either.

  The Wothbora nodded. ‘That would explain much – the Ancuman have always kept us as theow – and they especially like female Twacuman.’

  Conn continued with his questioning. ‘And your ancestors have given you nothing to guide you through this problem?’

  The Wordloga smiled; ‘Not really – but I do recall something my father said his grandfather told him.’

  He paused and Conn waited with anticipation but the Wordloga looked at Derryth who answered.

  ‘He said ‘When the time comes when things are not as they should be, look to what was old as it will be new again.’

  After a few moments Conn shook his head. ‘Doesn’t really mean a lot does it?’

  The Wordloga concurred. ‘I guess such things are not supposed to be too clear. It is said that Gyden cannot determine the future, but they can guide it – and we are told that it was said by a Gyden to my ancestor – but they like to have their fun. But you’, and he pointed to Conn’s medallion, ‘wear something that is old – as is your ability to understand the language of the Twacuman. It is possible to see the words in those things. And if the Ancuman are back, that is as it was before as well – perhaps our destiny is to be theow again.’

  ‘Not when I’m around.’ Conn added defiantly.

  The Wordloga smiled ruefully. ‘Even you have your limits, Feorhhyrde, one against so many. It took the Casere three generations to expel the Ancuman the last time – and at the loss of thousands of lives. Our people can ill afford to have so many die again.’

  Later, Conn and Oisin sat in counsel with Brina and the Elders; they considered in full the ramifications of Oisin’s arrival, and whether they would send riders south. Conn advised against it, the only safe way was by boat and that was not possible at this time. Oisin agreed.

  ‘There is something else,’ Brina added as Conn was about to leave. ‘The wordloga tells me that Daray had the blood of the Twacuman in his veins.’

  Oisin nodded. ‘Yes I agree; I suspect that he in a descendant of my house. One of the granddaughters of Ingeulfur became bedda to the Eaorl of Gelah in Silekia. That line obviously has descendants around the Priecuman nations.’

  ‘So all of you descend from Sherric and Alffasta?’

  They nodded.

  ‘Elva doesn’t have Priecuman blood, does she? That could be reason why she was able to have Jowan…’

  Brina shook her head. ‘No, she doesn’t – there must be another reason. The line of those with Priecuman blood is almost finished – Caewyn is the last on my line and Oisin the last of her line. Obviously there are also some that have Twacuman blood who are descendant of Sherric and Alffasta. It is interesting that one such descendant is in your care. I don’t know if it has meaning or not.’

  Days later when he readied to leave, he stood before Brina and Oisin. Conn smiled at the Aebeling.

  ‘Brina, is there nothing else you haven’t told me?’

  She laughed. ‘No, I think all our secrets are out in the open now. Not that they were secrets. Just answers to questions you didn’t ask.’

  ‘That doesn’t fill me with confidence.’

  As he turned to go, Oisin came forward and hugged him. ‘Thank you’ was all she said, but her smile said everything else.

  Elva and Derryth left them at the border of Halani, and they travelled first to Tabae where Conn joined the Eaorl on his annual pilgrimage to Lykiak. He travelled alone this time – Allowena was still in Atrak with Sileas, and Daray was sent direct to Abela to re-join the cavalry.

  In the Cotlif, Conn and Octa whet their separate ways, until a page came and found him with Osdred in the modernized and revitalized river docks. Conn followed with the boy back to the keep, and as he walked, he had the feeling that he was being watched, but was unable to see his pursuer. Thinking it must have been his imagination, he continued his journey. Inside Octa looked up as he arrived.

  ‘Have you heard?’

  ‘Heard what exactly?’ Conn liked to have the news before everyone else, so it immediately annoyed him that he didn’t know.

  ‘About Silekia – the Healdend of Silekia has been assassinated. We just received a message from Sabatah. It happened six weeks ago.’

  ‘Do we know where and how?’ Conn didn’t have a functioning pigeon post with Silekiak yet.

  ‘In Silekia – apparently he was patrolling behind the wall near Gelah. His fyrd were all killed.’

  ‘Did they name the killers?’ Conn asked; though he had some ideas already.

  ‘No – they don’t know.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  Octa shook his head. ‘No, the Rakians would never be so foolish….and why would they send assassins to murder a neighboring Healdend? It could result in war.’

  ‘The assassins weren’t Rakians.’

  ‘Who then?’ Octa was confused.

  ‘Who could they send that wouldn’t end in war?’ Conn asked rhetorically, ‘who gives them plausible deniability...’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean…’

  Conn made his suggestion.

  ‘Ancuman! Ancuman assassinated the Silekian Healdend? I didn’t even know that there were any Ancuman in Meshech. They were expelled hundreds of years ago. Why would you even think that?’

  The Twacuman weren’t the only ones surprised with the news. ‘When I was in Tegeste…’

  Octa interrupted. ‘You were in Tegeste? I don’t believe that you mentioned that when you told me about the rescue of Bettia and the Twacuman girl.’

  ‘I may have overlooked it.’ Conn gave him to full version of events. He had left a fair bit out before.

  Octa was dumbfounded. ‘You in fact left quite a lot out. So, let me get this right – after you had entered Tegeste like a thief in the night to rob a Rakian slaver of his prize – and Ryals – you happened to overhear that the Ancuman in Rakia were always in the market for Twacuman girls. You also didn’t mention that you killed over fifty Rakian wiga.’

  ‘That was their silly own fault; they attacked me first. Anyway, that is the only plausible explanation. Ancuman went by boat into Silekia and waited
until they assassinated the Healdend. Rakian hands would have been clean – if it hadn’t worked. But it did, so no one is to know.’

  Octa said that he would discuss it with the Witan in the morning. Conn suggested sending military aid – but, without an Aebeling, there was little Lykia would do. He was already sending supplies to keep them fed and resourced by they were prisoners behind their walls. It was not satisfactory. As for leadership, Conn knew that the last one standing was the daughter of the last Healdend; he wondered what would happen if they killed her as well.

  Still uneasy about the earlier incident, Conn decided to go for a walk. He was curious to see if there was still someone watching him. Conn wandering through the market place; now fully paved and drained, looking at the many products for sale that had been produced by his “factories”. It didn’t take long before he knew that he was correct. The person was remarkably good as it took Conn a long time to drop the tail and then discover the follower.

  When finally the roles were reversed, Conn finally identified his opponent; and was surprisingly to learn that it was a young woman; small framed and well hidden in a long black cloak, her hair and face hidden in the shadows of the cowl.

  It took a while for her to realize that he was gone, and she decided to leave her hiding place; this time he followed her, and to his further surprise she headed for the Cirice. The exterior walls had wooden doors and locks – personally built by him. It didn’t stop her though – after making sure that no one saw her, she walked up to the door, pushed it open and walked in. When Conn did the same, it wouldn’t open, so he had to retrieve the key from his pouch and open the door. He closed and locked it silently behind him.

  No one had been in the enclosure since it had been restored the previous year. Conn didn’t know where the girl had gone but decided to try the Cirice first. As he got closer, he could hear a voice; there must be more than one.

  He walked into the building and looked around the corner into the Cella – she was definitely a young woman – she had taken off her cloak and was dressed in a light blue Chiton styled gown; sheer and form fitting, and it the blue light it was almost transparent. Even from a distance he could see that this was no girl. She was facing the naked statue of Babh; the light blue haze filling the room from the gem in her hand. It flared suddenly and the woman spun around, looking in Conn’s direction.