“I’ll point her out to you, if we see her sometime. She owns a medium-sized farm about ten miles north. She’s in her late twenties or early thirties and a widow. Her husband died several years ago after an accident on their farm. In her case, she’s successful in running the farm, because it’s big and productive enough to have several workers and since there were no children. She’s something of an exception, both because of her circumstances and since she’s known to be both strong minded and bodied.”
They sat on the steps, facing the ocean. The moon Aedan was just rising from the ocean horizon. The other moon, Haedan, would appear much later that night, if Yozef remembered the pattern of their cycles.
“I assume she has the same problem finding a new husband?”
Cadwulf laughed. “Yes, the same problem of too few men she would want to marry, and I doubt she’s interested in giving up ownership of the farm. She’s quite used to running the farm by herself.”
They rose and entered the house. Elian had somehow known there was a guest and had set an extra place at his table. Yozef often ate with the older couple, at first to their discomfort, but tonight they had already eaten. Brak was nowhere to be seen, and Elian served them, set an open bottle of phila wine on the table, and excused herself for the evening. Conversation lagged, as they focused on roast coney, potatoes, a chard-like vegetable Yozef had come to like, the wine, and a version of sourdough bread Yozef and Elian had been experimenting with. As they finished the last of the coney, Yozef brought up the topic they had been discussing on the way from the abbey.
“Cadwulf, doesn’t the excess of women over men cause problems? Not just for the women themselves, but for the entire clan and society? What happens to an unmarried woman?”
“If she has no property and can’t work to support herself, then her family is responsible for her. Otherwise, the local abbey or village tries to find her a place, especially if there are children. Obviously, being married is best. In some clans, though, the shortage of men has been worse, due to conflict within or between clans. When that happens, some clans, particularly the northern ones, have customs that help the problem by allowing husbands two wives. More in rare cases, but usually just two.”
Yozef was surprised. “Does that also occur in Keelan?”
“While it’s not disallowed by either The Word of God or Keelan customs, our clan has traditionally frowned on the practice, although there are a few exceptions. I can think of only three examples I know of, and none in Abersford. In some of the provinces, the man must get approval from his local abbey or boyerman to take a second wife, depending on the customs and laws of the province, and the first wife has to approve sincerely. It’s usually not allowed for the husband to pressure the wife into agreeing, although I understand this occurs more in the northern clans.”
“Well,” said Yozef, “I can see the logic as a solution to excess women, but it’s a brave or foolish man to have even two wives, much less more than two.”
Cadwulf smiled. “Yes, the obvious problems of two women in the same house.” His face took on a more serious demeanor. “Not to mention the ability to commit to the marriage equally and as deeply as the Word instructs. Then there’s the obligation to care for all children resulting from the marriage. More wives mean more children. That’s the primary responsibility of marriage—the children.”
“In the last case today, what if the man accused of rape hadn’t been killed?”
“If there was confirming evidence or a confession to the rape, then he’d be held responsible for the rape and care of the child.”
“What if the judges didn’t decide there was proof of rape, and the child was his? He could claim the girl consented?”
“It’s the same. If there was proof or admission that the child was his, then he’d be responsible for helping support the child. If no such proof, then the judges would rule he had no obligation.”
The classic “he said, she said” problem. There are no DNA tests here.
“And if the girl was considered too young to give consent?”
“Too young?” questioned Cadwulf. “What does that matter?”
Oh, boy.
“Could she not be considered a child herself and not of age and maturity for such a decision?”
“All persons, of whatever age, can make decisions. The younger they are, the more their age is taken into consideration in handling the consequences of such decisions. She and her family shouldn’t have put her in a situation where rape could occur.”
Zounds! We’re not in Kansas anymore.
Chapter 22: The Buldorians
Okan Akuyun was two hours into the current stack of paperwork when interrupted by a knock at his office door. From the rhythm and strength of the four raps, he recognized it was the tall, solid, and dangerous-looking Major Perem Saljurk, long-time aide and unofficial bodyguard.
“Come, Perem,” he said and laid down his quill. The door opened, and the officer strode across the floor and handed Akuyun a dispatch with the seal broken. Akuyun had no secrets from Saljurk, and the aide read most dispatches before deciding whether they needed to be delivered immediately or could wait.
“From Admiral Kalcan, General. A picket sloop came on a group of Buldorian ships and is escorting them to Rocklyn.”
Right on time, thought Akuyun. Captain Adalan was as efficient as he’d judged. They’d arrived as agreed, five months to the day. He opened the dispatch and read, while the major waited. Seven Buldorian ships, their usual design, each with sixteen 15-pounder cannons. No one of the Buldorian ships was a danger to a Narthon frigate, but a pack like this could be dangerous to a larger warship caught alone.
Kalcan estimated the Buldorian ships would reach the abandoned Preddi fishing village by early evening and assumed they’d anchor well offshore before any of them docked the next morning.
“Thank you, Perem. Please send the admiral an acknowledgment and request he accompany me to Rocklyn first light tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll arrange a carriage and escort.”
“Make that two carriages. I’ll be returning the next day, but the admiral or some of the staff going with us may stay longer.”
Akuyun watched his aide leave. There was definitely an advantage to having someone like Perem, who’d been with him so long he could anticipate.
They would ride in relative comfort, instead of on horseback, himself preferring the carriage option, since his riding skills had atrophied once he rose in the Narthani hierarchy. Also, he knew the admiral detested horses.
One more step on the path. Akuyun mentally checked off a milestone. Once they got the Buldorians settled, they could move along. Within a year, with good fortune, they could finish their objectives here. When this assignment was completed, Grand Marshal Turket hinted a successful conclusion would impress the High Command enough to pull him back to Narthon. There, he anticipated a rise in rank and assignment to either a field position or a regional command over a conquered territory. Akuyun wasn’t in love with war, but after years of administrative work dealing with political and civilian issues on Caedellium, a field position would be a welcomed change. His current rank was equivalent to a division commander, so a promotion to the field would likely be as second-in-command in a corps at a major front. Command of a reserve corps or facing a lesser enemy was also possible. Any would suit him.
He turned in his swivel chair and pulled one of several cords hanging from the ceiling. Elsewhere in the headquarters, the other end of the cord rang a small bell. Within seconds, a runner appeared in front of his desk, as he finished a short note.