by Pam Uphoff
"Primus. Little gods. Well, that'll settle my father a bit. He thinks I should have just forgotten you." His arms tightened around her. "As soon as your Tras shows up, we'll go home."
"I love you."
"And I love you. I always knew they could call you into service. This brutal . . . I don't care. You are an indispensable part of my life."
They snuggled for a bit, Drew obviously aware she was in no shape for anything else, and broke off only at the approaching wail of a baby. The Prince Primus was hungry.
Drew hovered while she clumsily tried to nurse him.
"What did you name him?"
She blinked at him in surprise. "I didn't even think of a name. I didn't expect . . . well, I suppose I just wasn't looking past delivery."
"He's a cute little guy. Lot's of hair. How about something from your side of the family?"
"Warric, like my mother's father?"
"Yes, very good." Drew turned as the door thumped open.
"Did you see this!" Her father-in-law waved papers at Drew. "A Prince Primus! Primus, boy! This will be your doorway into the government and erase that disgraceful episode up north."
Juabe inhaled sharply. How bad had it been? Lord Menchuro walked out, still talking. Drew came back a few minutes later.
"I think I persuaded him that little Warric couldn't push my career until he was at least twelve and presented at court."
"That mess up North – how bad was it?"
"The Emperor sacked all the officers who survived. Little gods, I don't know what happened. At least it was soldiers, not gods who rampaged through Tarrington. So half the town's maidens didn't get sent to the temple." He cupped a gentle hand around her chin. "So the good news is, you are spared being dragged along on those long campaigns."
She winced. "But you did so love the life. I'm sorry, love."
"Oh, bah. We'll go back to Breesdon, and I can go off and chase border bandits when I feel the martial ardor rising. Your Magda is going to stay here. I've bought her a horrible old hotel, and she's helping all the women who leave the Temple. I don't know if your Tras will want to help her, or stay with you. If she wants to stay here, we'll hire one of the others to be your maid and Warric's nanny, eh?"
She swallowed another lump and nodded.
He pulled her close and breathed into her hair. "Don't look so woebegone. You are alive, and I want to run through the streets shouting the good news to the rooftops."
Magda brought Tras the next day. Weak and nearly naked, an equally naked baby boy in her arms.
"I was the last of our group to deliver." She shivered as Juabe hustled around with clothing and diapers. "I could hear the physicians talking. Less than ten percent of us were touched, and we actually had fewer miscarriages and stillbirths than usual. They were calling us all 'the normal group.' Like it was an insult. This priest waved his hand over Trace while he was yawning and kicked us out." She wound down with a quivery sob, and let herself be put to bed.
She was delighted to be hired, actually paid, to be Juabe's maid and Warric's nanny. Drew wrote to her owner, who sent back a release. Lord Gressum wanted nothing to do with her now.
They waited for six weeks before leaving, Drew fussing over her, and cuddling her close at night. She panicked the first time he tried more, then had to woo him back as she regained her nerve. She lay awake a long time just listening to him breathe. Why had she ever doubted him?
He caught her crying, the day before they left, and held her gently. "Can you talk to me about it? I can see you're unhappy, and . . . I can see that you don't love the baby."
"I never wanted a baby. I wanted your baby. Someone else's won't do. Even without the rape and church and, and . . . that baby looks like him."
"Oh love, it's not your fault. You are obviously not barren. I've failed you, that way. My relationship with my own father was marvelous, as a child. I've disappointed him several times as an adult. Not producing a grandson for him being only one of a series of disappointments. I always wanted a son. I wanted to be that shining figure my father was. I wanted a son to be proud of, as my father was so proud of me. But apparently I can't. So my wife, a Princess Segundus, producing a Prince Primus is as close to pleasing him that I can come, these days." He held her and rocked her. "It's as close to pleasing myself as I can come. Warric is not the god that abused you, he's just a little baby. Try, please, for me, to remember that. I want to be his father, and I want all of us to love each other. I can't close you out of that circle."
"I love you, Drew. I'll try."
"All that really matters is that you survived. Be as good a mother as you can, and if you want we can hire any number of nannies and send the boy away to boarding school when he's seven. For now come to dinner and shine."
She dressed with care, applied her makeup carefully, and walked down to shine.
They made good time driving to Breesdon. Drew's dignified old valet managed all the arrangements. Their big coach was comfortable and they stopped at an Inn every night. Tras was delighted to take most of the work of tending the babies. A boy had been sent ahead, a week before they left, with Drew's six horses, taking his time to the halfway point in Bern, so they would have a change of horses. They took an extra day off in Bern, before sending the boy home with Lord Menchuro's tired team.
However comfortable the trip, they were still confined to the coach for the better part of every day. Juabe, perforce, spent a lot of time with her son, and was surprised to find it not as difficult as the early days. The two little boys looked opposite of each other, Warric pale and long and Trace chubby and dark, but Tras was adamant that they were both very well behaved babies.
"They even sleep through the night." She braided Juabe's hair and coiled it for the day. "When you grow up in a household like my father's you see a lot of babies. You are so lucky." Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Juabe rather thought that Drew could hear her anyway, and sent a smile his direction. He blew her a kiss. "Yes, they're a nice pair of little boys. I'll go see if the horses are harnessed."
Tras giggled. "I meant that you didn't have to share your Drew with a bunch of other women. My father didn't love his wife—nor any of the concubines. They were just beautiful women, interchangeable, as far as he could see. Lord Gressum fell in love with my sister, my half sister, The Lady, but my parents didn't approve of him. They convinced his parents to buy me, because they thought that would break the infatuation. I looked like her, you see?"
"Oh. Dear."
"Yes. He didn't much like being fobbed off with a bastard slave girl. He was always rough, and beat me whenever he had an excuse. I'm glad he released me." She caught Juabe's gaze in the mirror. "I won't ever flirt with your Lord. I promise. Now Hurald on the other hand . . . "
"Hurald is, well, probably not quite old enough to be your grandfather." Juabe smiled at the thought of Hurald the taciturn driver. She'd known him for her fifteen years of marriage, and probably never gotten anything but an opinion about horse, road or weather from him. And briefly stated opinions at that.
"But he's not my grandfather." Five minutes later Tras winked at him as Drew handed them up into the coach.
The fresh team made good speed over one of the longer stretches of their journey, and they pulled into the misnamed White Buffalo Inn before sunset. The dark buildings were as poorly lit as she remembered from all their other trips. Drew sent Bathford in to handle the arrangements and strolled with them up and down the street.
There weren't enough houses to even count as a village, let alone a town.
"They make their money off travelers." Drew said. "And there are some sheep farmers about. The ground is too rocky for most crops, but halfway between Bern and Marsalis, they can earn a tidy living."
Juabe noted the raised gardens behind the three houses. "It looks like they manage to grow their own vegetables. I suppose they buy flour in Marsalis."
"Yes. People who travel through all the time, like Hurald and Bathford, ge
nerally pick up things there or in Bern and barter for lodgings. Unless I miss my guess, Bathford is just now swapping chocolate for beds and hot baths. Hurald will probably spend the night at cards, using horseshoe nails as his stake."
Juabe chuckled. "I remember him winning a few times, and some of the odd things he's carried off. A cow bell, and a whole sheepskin, and knitted things. He must have a dozen knitted caps by now."
"Not to mention scarves." Drew chuckled. "And I seem to remember some puppies once. I think that was the year before I married you. Bathford had to point out to him that puppies weren't actually assets."
"Is that where that odd hound pack of yours came from?"
"Well, it certainly added character to it. The pack started out as purebred fox hounds, but I was glad for those big mixed breeds when they tackled that bear. Remember that?"
"All too well." They turned and strolled back to the Inn, where the proprietor was all smiles and laid out a good dinner for them.
Another week found them driving up to the gates of the Principality's ruling family. Drew was one of the Principal's direct liege lords, and they were welcomed warmly.
Juabe and Tras and the babies were escorted off to the women's quarters. Hot baths, and gossip over dinner, admiration of the babies. Just like always.
"The men always want to sit around and talk about killing things." Princess Segundus Listle cooed at Warric. "A prince primus. I am so jealous. All I had to show for my Service to the Gods was stretch marks. A still-borne daughter. You know, I always thought you were so lucky, barren and not called to Serve."
"Well, I don't recommend my method. " Juabe smiled ruefully. She'd be expected to pay for dinner and lodging with the whole lurid tale. "Your children are getting so big. Karl must be . . . goodness twelve?" She caught the boy's eye and winked at him. "He'll be shaving in no time. I'll bet he's growing so fast your seamstresses can't keep up."
Listle nodded. "Those trousers were too long for him a month ago. Now you must tell all about what happened up north. Really, the stories we get don't make any sense at all."
So it was all hashed out again, the whole confusing mess. "They never found out what caused it. Drew thinks perhaps one of the gods had a breakthrough and was suddenly able to reduce inhibitions and discipline or increase lust or perhaps both, over a much larger than expected range. But of course it was all blamed on the officers and soldiers, and the Priests never had to explain why their Gods, major and minor, were running loose through the camp and woods."
"Of course not, dear. My service was not nearly so colorful. I had already produced two sons for my husband, so he felt honor bound to take me back. And it's worked out well, finally. Two more children and he lost interest in the concubines years ago. They couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation with him." She smiled over at the two women who were chatting with Tras. "I kept them on, for appearances, and to help with all the children – they have one each. Is your Drew interested in the girl?"
"He doesn't appear to be. Now that he's out of the army, he may increase his household. No doubt I'll find out."
"Hmm, well, dear, I shall hope for the best for you."
A week later they reached the Menchuro's country estate. The old stone building was a welcome refuge, and Juabe settled Tras and the babies far enough away for quiet nights, but close enough to not seem to be rejecting Warric.
Bathford took firm control of his master's wing of the house. All the rooms were cleaned and opened, aired out, whether needed or not.
Lord Menchuro had a suite, mostly unused, in the center section of the house, that also contained a grand entry, three parlors, a ballroom, three sizes of dining rooms and a covered passage to the kitchen, kept separate as a fire hazard.
Drew's sister Gorgette and her husband Lord Fredarik managed the estate and occupied the long south wing of the manor house with their four children, their governesses, school masters, valets, maids, boot boys and concubine.
That last was a surprise.
"Little Fredarik is seventeen now, and we don't want him to marry early. He's applied to attend the University in Lundun and the girl will do to keep his rooms in good order, see that he eats and so forth." Gorgette bustled over to peek at Warric. "A prince primus, after all these years. Quite the surprise."
Juabe eyed her askance. "What is Little Freddie going to study? Business like his father?"
"We thought politics might be better." She frowned at Warric. "Since it appeared that he'd be inheriting from his uncle. What are Drew's intensions? I see you have the child here close to you, instead of up in the attic with the servants' children."
"It's too early to be making plans. Drew's barely forty, with plenty of time to be having a son of his own if that is his desire. You know he's always thought with Freddie and Phippe there was no reason for him to scramble frantically about for an heir of his body."
"But is he not going to deal with you as he wishes? "
Juabe raised her eyebrows. "He already is." So, Gorgette thinks Drew should abandon me? Thinks my child should be up in the attic?
"Oh, is the whore's child his? I thought her a bit old and a bit plain for Drew, but perhaps she's clever in bed. I always thought that you must be quite acrobatic." Gorgette raised her eyebrows and nose.
"My dear! Are you afraid that Drew will cast you out? Heavens, he's never mentioned a thing of that nature. He speaks of joining the local militia in chasing bandits, not taking over management, here. There is no need for this ferocious attack." Juabe reached for amused and superior tone of voice, however little she felt it.
Gorgette straightened. "I never thought any such thing. And I certainly wouldn't attack anyone, dear."
"I'm so very happy to hear that, dear." When 'dear' had descended to such an insult, there was little hope for reconciliation.
They ate in the medium sized dining room, with space for double their numbers, Drew at the head of the table, with Fredarik to his left and Gorgette to his right. Juabe sat between the two Fredariks, across from four-year-old Phippe, with the two girls, Angliea and Sofiea, at the foot of the table.
Tras and Fredarik the Younger's concubine were not invited.
Juabe kept up a cheerful chatter with the girls, catching up on the news in the little village that was a part of the estates, as well as the five neighboring noble families. Lesser lords with smaller properties, they lived on various military and family pensions and investment of their wives' dowries. Juabe laughed with the girls at their penny pinching, hiding her understanding of their pride in overcoming their financial problems. Although how Lord Enderby expected to marry off his five daughters with the small dowries he could afford was anyone's guess.
"He should have stopped having children after two." Gorgette said. "The man was insane to want a son so badly. Wiser to chose a son-in-law of proven ability."
Both Fredariks agreed and Drew raised his eyebrows. "Thinking you don't need a dowry, Fredie? I confess I haven't looked at Enerby's girls, been away too much."
Gorgette looked panicked at that hint having fallen so far afield. "Oh, no, not for us. But really, Enderby'd be so much better off with, say, young Lord Marcus for his eldest and leaving the estate to them, rather than having yet another child himself."
Drew raised his brows. "Well, children do tend to happen in marriages. Or not, without regard to the wishes of the people involved. I should hardly think Enderby would give up the marital bed at his young age."
Juabe winced and leaned in to divert the conversation. "What of the Galloways? I haven't heard a thing about them in ages."
The two boys squirmed. Gorgette shook her head sadly. "Lady Bernsday was Called several months ago."
"Oh, well, hopefully she'll be back, after." That was as much as Juabe could manage. She hoped Magda could stay in business. She'd have to ask Drew about that.
"Hard to say. Galloway has gotten in a girl to raise their pair of children, and I've heard she's looking pretty smug." Young Freddie smirked
.
Gorgette nodded. "Lady Bernsday probably won't have a place when she returns."
"I don't know how Galloway managed a Princess Segundus anyway." The elder Freddie reached for more beef.
Drew met her eyes warmly. "Just lucky, I expect. Or the long military career. I'll have to step around and cheer him up."
The verbal fencing continued through every meal, until Drew took both Fredariks off for a tour of their wide-flung properties. Thereafter their dinners were as often game as domestic fowl or beast. Juabe made sure that fresh produce was bought locally and only rarely supplemented with expensive preserves brought from town.
Gorgette complained that she was being parsimonious and pouted to no effect. Juabe, in the village, laughed at her growing reputation as a skinflint. "Although I expect Mr. Bereson is feeling a pinch, all the wild game Drew brings home. But I should hope the local farmers are doing well off us."
Mrs. Bereson laughed at that. "Now don't you believe that, there are plenty others that buy our meat, and they've saying lately how nice it is that we've the better cuts available more often. And anyway, you're still buying often enough, and with a larger household, so really our business has been good."
Gorgette's family had twelve staff dedicated to them, making Juabe feel positively parsimonious with their mere three, especially with Hurald living over the stables with the other four grooms and stable boys, the two gardeners and the kennel boy. The 'household staff' consisted of a butler, a housekeeper with three maids, and a cook with two assistants. Thirty people to keep six nobles in style seemed positively luxurious to her after the last year, and all the years in Army camps. Seven nobles. She really did need to start acting like Prince Primus Warric was to be counted as one of the Lords, not an up and coming bootboy like Trace.
She walked into the nursery and Warric rolled and squirmed toward her. He recognizes me. His mother. She looked at Tras and Trace, mother and son, and the boy becoming as dear to her as the mother.
The boys ought to be raised together. If Warric takes after Drew's military career, he'll need a loyal man with him. Drew still speaks occasionally of his man, killed before I ever met him, and replaced only with short-term privates, frequently replaced. But Trace should have lessons with Warric. Book and sword.