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January 9, 1172
"God, I just can't understand it." Florian finished what was left of the bottle's contents and placed it side-down on the counter, earning a disapproving glare from that insufferable Seoth. "After all these years, you finally get a chance to be your own man, and only nine days later, you're getting married again. I don't get it."
Shrugging, Falidor took a last sip of the goblet in front of him, then handed it back to the innkeeper. "You don't have to get it--although it's not that hard to get, really. I love her."
"Yes, but... nine days?" These nine days had been the only glimpse of bachelorhood poor Falidor had been granted since he was a boy of sixteen, and there was no way a man gave that up so easily--no matter how in love he was. Florian had to get to the bottom of this. "Look, you can tell me: is Raia's father making you marry her before the baby comes?"
On the groom-to-be's other side, Aldhein bowed his head and groaned; Falidor nearly choked. "Uh... what?"
Florian rested his elbow to the counter surface and leaned toward his friend, perhaps a little perversely triumphant--after all, he must have been right. "He is, isn't he?"
Falidor sighed. "No, he's really not."
"Err... Falidor?"
It was the baker, whom none of them liked, but who seemed unaware of the fact. Florian pulled himself back upright; he normally enjoyed tormenting Roveln, but on the eve of his friend's poorly-timed wedding, he was a little preoccupied, so he tried to ignore him. Falidor, on the other hand, decided to be polite. "Yes?"
"Uh, well, now that you're divorced and getting remarried again," the baker began, his hands fidgeting as his eyes fell to the floor, "I just figured I should tell you that I'm sorry for sleeping with your first wife."
Quiet--then, as if startled by his own daring, he took a few hasty strides toward the door and vanished from the range of the window.
Florian snickered. "He actually said it to your face? What a--"
"You know what?" Cutting Florian off, Aldhein pushed back his pint and turned to face Falidor, a resigned, tired sort of look in his eye. "Maybe that was stupid, but it was also rather noble. Falidor, I'm sorry for sleeping with your wife too."
Well... that was news to Florian. If Falidor's cocked eyebrow was any indication, this was the first he'd heard of this too. "You slept with Ailede?"
Grim, Aldhein nodded. "In my defense, though, this was before I met Alsina and it only happened the one time."
"All right..."
"Falidor?"
Seoth crossed to the other side of the counter and took the empty barstool to Florian's left, then looked past him and locked eyes with Falidor. "I'm also sorry for sleeping with your--"
"Oh for the love of God!" Florian slammed his fist against the counter with a force that rendered the entire inn mute. This would probably be the only bachelor party Falidor was ever going to get and he'd be damned if it was going to be ruined by someone other than him! "Am I the only person in this room who hasn't had sexual intercourse with Ailede Wythleit?"
Never before had he been forced to endure such an awkward silence. "Well then..."
Aldhein sniffed. "'Well then' indeed."
Florian cast a glare around the room, making sure that every soul in the room was aware of his annoyance before finally turning to Falidor--poor, embarrassed, laughingstock Falidor. "So... are you going to pound the stuffing out of all these sluts, or what?"
Falidor glanced toward Seoth, then Aldhein, then back to Florian. His head shook; his lips formed an odd shape, almost like an ironic sort of smile. "No--why bother? I'm happy now."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 31, 1169
"All right, Sextus, out with it!" Father Septimus demanded, pounding the counter-top with such force that Seoth made a mental note to inspect it for cracks later. He knew he was being somewhat paranoid, but it wasn't as if he hadn't had to pay for enough property damage after Florian had gotten it into his head to breed rabbits in the broom cupboard. That had been months ago, and Seoth had chased most of them out by this point, but every now and then a suspicious set of teeth marks on a table leg or banister that indicated the lingering presence of one or two of the little bastards. "Let's hear this so-called amusing anecdote of yours, and make it quick--there's a young lady back in my chapel who's just been begging to confess, if you catch my drift."
Seoth placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. The priests came to his inn every month or so, normally to get roaring drunk and shout some of the people's more intimate confessions for all to hear. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was morally wrong to refuse service to clergymen; he supposed that at the very least, they'd never been around at the same time as Florian.
"Yes, Sextus." Father Quartus took a swig from his pint, then drove it back down with a thud! Seoth cringed--why couldn't all the troublemakers bother some other innkeeper once in a while? "And hurry it up, because I have a funny story myself--you'll never guess what duke's secretary has been up to lately."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Father Sextus muttered back. "Both of his mistresses live in my parish, you know."
Quartus sniffed. "Not what I was talking about, but all right. Now, just tell your damn story."
"Fine, fine--keep your robes on!" Sextus reclined as best he could on the barstool and took a sip of wine. "Now, picture this: piss-drunk wedding."
Quartus groaned. Beside him, Father Quintus shook his head in an exasperated fashion. "Sextus, you live in Veldorashire--you get a piss-drunk wedding every week."
Seoth caught sight of a smirk on Sextus's face. "Aye... but this time, it isn't so much what happened as who it was, if you follow. So anyway, it was about three hours ago, and this pair stumbles into my chapel, and they're both--"
"--drunk out of their minds, their hair all disheveled, bits of clothing about to fall off and slobbering all over each other," Septimus finished for him. "Sextus, you tell this story every time I see you. Now, out with it--who got impulsively and half-wittingly shackled together until death do them part this time?"
His brother laughed. "Easy, I was just getting to that. Anyway, they barge right up to me and demand for--"
"We know, we know!" Quartus clapped his hand to his forehead and moaned. "Just tell us who it was!"
"Fine, I get it--you don't like my set-up." Annoyed, Sextus grabbed the goblet in front of him and drained it. "Anyway, it was his lordship and his maid."
Seoth frowned. He'd been an innkeeper long enough to have heard more than his fair share of crazy things, but this was beyond belief. Nora, that curvy, deliciously blunt little scamp who could drink any man under the table and had once broken a jar over the baker's head--Lady Veldora. The very idea was so absurd that his impulses were stumped for a proper reaction. Nora, Lady Veldora; there had to have been some mistake.
Septimus let it out an appreciative guffaw. "Ha! The king's not going to be very happy about that!"
"Indeed--why else do you think I let them get married when they were that drunk?"
"Why do you ever let people get married when they're that drunk?" Seoth inquired, raising an eyebrow.
Sextus shot him an annoyed glare. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have a private conversation here!"
Now would have been an excellent time for someone else--anyone else--to walk in, but knowing his luck, no one did. Seoth pushed his hair out of his face and shook his head. "A little loud to be all that private, but what do I know? I'm only the man who owns this place and sells you spirits."
"Damn right!" Sextus snapped before turning back to his brothers. "Anyway, I doubt they'll even remember this in the morning. They were absolutely soused stupid; I wouldn't be surprised if one of them dies in the night."
"Well, that would work out just fine for you--you'd get a fare for both a wedding and a funeral!" noted Quintus.
Satisfied, Sextus grinned smugly. "And to think, all the people believe that those fares go straight to the orphanage, when really they're just funding our underground cockfights!" Well, that was an interesting tidbit--if there was one good thing about these priests, it was that they often provided plenty of blackmail material. "But really, I don't know how I'm going to keep myself from laughing the next time I see either of them--they won't even be aware of their own marital status."
"But that happens with every drunk that gets married in your chapel in the dead of the night," Septimus pointed out. "There's a man in this shire unknowingly married to his cat, for God's sake! The fletcher's betrothed is already wed to that traveling salesman who sells the funny mushrooms, and even old Seoth is an unwitting bigamist!"
Seoth cringed in horror. "What?"
"Seriously--private conversation!" snarled Sextus. "What the hell's wrong with you, you great stupid eavesdropping lummox? Anyway, it's different this time--I mean, imagine being a lady and never even knowing it! And the king wanted Lord Severin to marry some other girl, so what if he marries her two? There'll be two Lady Veldoras!"
"Oy!" piped up Quartus suddenly from the end of the counter. "You know what would be absolutely hilarious?"
Quintus turned to face him, and odd sort of smile on his mouth. "What?"
"What if we told the king about this?"
NEXT CHAPTER:
October 5, 1156
Father Quintus had finished his piece, and now Florian was nearing the end of his. Thetis had tried to pay attention to the both of them, she honestly had, but she had found herself much too preoccupied with her own thoughts to listen carefully to what they had to say.
Thetis had never liked funerals--really, who did? As if anyone needed just one more reminder of a death.
For a woman who hadn't often left her house in life, Electra seemed to have quite a few friends; at least, a good handful of people had shown up for her funeral. Thetis stood with Halford and Arydath, near Lord Severin and his steward. Sister Elwyna, the nun who would be running the orphanage, was standing with Father Quintus. She didn't appear to be particularly stern, Thetis was relieved to see--chances are, her little daughter would end up being raised by that nun.
She was surprised to see that Falidor had decided to tag along with Lord Severin. Thetis had never met any of the young steward's family, but from what she had heard, his father had died back in Dovia and his mother was very ill, and would likely not last another year. Were she in Falidor's boots, she would have avoided anything even remotely related to death at all costs, so she could at least enjoy the time that remained.
Or perhaps he was trying to surround himself with death. Perhaps he figured that he would become numb to it, and then, when his mother finally died, he would face a lesser pain than he would have otherwise. That would make sense too, she supposed.
Florian just seemed intent on avoiding all eyes as he muttered the rest of the eulogy, more to himself than to all those assembled. It was clear that he was not at his most comfortable in front of so many people, even if he had been asked to speak about something he actually enjoyed discussing. Also, the cold breeze couldn't have been good for him; it was really rather selfless of him, making sure that his wife was given a proper funeral at the risk of his own health.
"So, I guess there's really nothing left to say," sighed Florian at last. "I just want to thank you all for coming. I'm sure Electra would be honored to see that you all came. You're welcome to leave as you please; I'm sure the people watching your babies will be anxious to see you back."
That was true. Thetis had left Byrn at the baron's keep, where Evera, Setran, and Lyraina were also being taken care of--much to the horror of the rather cruel baroness, at that. Fortunately, she had a nurse for her own babies anyway, and would not have to bother with them herself, which was perfectly fine with Thetis, who really would have rather not had her children anywhere near that awful woman in the first place.
But at least she'd found somewhere to leave Byrn--it would have been a terrible waste of a day when Norwan was sleeping off a hangover in some village inn with a local prostitute if she'd had to stay home with her son. Funerals really were no place for babies.
She kept waiting for Florian to meet her eye, but he just kept staring off into space, as if trying to trace Electra's path to heaven. No... that didn't sound like the sort of thing Florian would do. Perhaps he was just trying to empty his mind, to forget exactly why he was here.
Thetis could relate. Electra had been the mother to Evera that Thetis sorely wished she could have been, and now, the little girl would never know that mother. All she would ever know now was the cold orphanage floor, and a scratchy blanket she shared with four other children. And what sort of future was there for a girl raised in an orphanage? She might become some sort of spinster servant, or perhaps a nun, or maybe even--no. Thetis could not allow herself to think such thoughts.
"It'll be all right, Thetis," she distinctly heard Falidor whisper. "Don't worry."
She wasn't sure she could reply; she didn't think she could believe him.
So instead, she just closed her eyes and began to count. Being a poor, uneducated peasant girl, Thetis only knew the numbers up to a hundred, so when she reached that, she would start over at one. Exactly how many times she did this, she didn't know; the way she saw it, it barely even mattered.
"Go home, Thetis."
It appeared that only herself and Florian remained.
"Maybe you should go too," she suggested; she had to admit, she was a little worried about his condition in this cold weather.
Florian sighed. "She should too, but we both know she's not going to."
Shaking her head, she slowly made her way toward him. "She's in a better place, now, Florian."
"She would have been in a better place anyway," he argued bitterly, "now that Setran's here. He's such a good baby--this one actually sleeps through the night."
He took a moment to erupt into a coughing fit, then regained his composure and continued to stare at the tombstone. "He's so patient, and the woman who's nursing him says he's a much more cooperative eater than her own baby. Not that I blame that other boy--I wouldn't suck those tits for all the money in Naroni. If anything, my son's got absolutely bizarre taste."
"Florian... please," Thetis urged him softly. "You're not feeling well; Electra wouldn't have wanted you sitting out in the cold like this, talking about breasts. She'd want you to be at home, with Setran and Evera."
Florian nodded, then pulled himself to his feet. "You're right. Thank you."
There was so much that she wished she could say to him, and yet, she found she did not know the words she needed. Perhaps words were not always reliable, she supposed; maybe sometimes, the only way to express oneself was with a hug.
NEXT CHAPTER:
"Well, your majesty, my lords," Father Quintus addressed them, "what do you think? Did the men do an acceptable job of restoring this old church in the Dovian style?"
It wasn't the most spectacular church Roderick had ever seen, he had to admit, but it would have to suffice; there were several babies in Naroni who were well overdue for a christening, his own daughter included. Besides, it certainly did have seating for a decent amount of people, as well as the white candles and wooden alters that were staples in all Dovian churches. The men had, at the very least, made an effort to restore the old church in a fashion very much reminiscent of home.
"I suppose it will do for now," he sighed; he couldn't afford to give the impression that he was actually satisfied with the work of mere peasants.
Beside him, Dalston smiled. "I like it. It's rather homey, is it not?"
"If you like that sort of thing," Roderick yawned, just before turning around to face his other companions. "Well, have either of you anything to say?"
"Well, it's not a masterpiece or anything," Octavius admitted, "but the men put their best efforts into it, I'm sure, and they did exceptionally well with the little they had to work with. What do you think, Severin?"
Severin nodded. "I like that it's not particularly fine. I always found a lot of the big churches back home rather imposing, and maybe somewhat pretentious in appearance. They were so beautiful that I always felt as though it was a sin to sit down too fast or breathe too loudly whenever I was in one. This church is much more comfortable."
This had been exactly what Roderick had loved about those Dovian churches, but he figured it was only natural that he would have better tastes than these men. Had he not been a prince back in Dovia? Dalston had only been the second son of a lord, and Octavius, the eighth. Severin's father was a duke, but his mother was a pagan whore, so really, he couldn't be any finer than a gentleman farmer. However, Roderick was feeling generous; he would allow them to think that their opinions were actually worth something.
In a manner quite fitting of a lord's second son, Dalston promptly seated himself in the front pew. "Well, now that that's over with, I'm going to tell anyone who will listen that my son has already thrown his first punch."
"Really?" asked Octavius. "Who was the recipient?"
"Well, me. But fortunately, he's small enough that I barely felt it. Regardless, I'm sure he will someday be an unrivaled brawler."
Severin laughed, setting himself down next to Dalston. "Perhaps he will. However, I know for a fact that your son has also received his first punch; I'm surprised Celina didn't tell you."
The duke frowned. "When was this?"
"Last week, I believe," Severin replied. "Celina brought Lorn over, and he stole a toy rabbit my stepmother sent for my daughter, and Raia hit him. She also punched my steward, come to think of it. It was her way of telling him she didn't approve of his new hairstyle; naturally, he's back to wearing it the same way he did before."
"Well, at least you know she'll be able to deal with any unwanted suitors when she's older," teased Dalston.
"And stewards with ugly hairstyles," added Severin with a grin.
Octavius, who had occupied the pew directly behind them, sent a glance Roderick's way. "Any interesting stories about Ietrin or Leara, Roderick?"
"No," he answered bluntly. His own children, like Dalston's son and Severin's daughter, were nowhere near the age at which they began to become even somewhat interesting. "Anyway, there is a matter I must speak with Father Quintus about. Feel free to continue discussing babies like a roomful of women."
"Will do," Severin promised. "So, Octavius, how's Medea finding pregnancy?"
Octavius shook his head. "She's hating every minute of it. You see..."
"Anyway, while they're distracted," Roderick began as he approached the priest. "I have confession to make--I have sinned. I know that sounds impossible, since I am a king, but I assure you, Father, that we kings do sin too."
"Oh, I know that, your majesty," Father Quintus assured him. "I have read the Bible, after all... well, not Numbers. Numbers is a very dull read. Oh, and I skipped Leviticus too... and maybe Deuteronomy... but nevertheless, I still have read enough to know that kings do sin. Anyway, your majesty, what is this sin of which you speak?"
Roderick sighed. "Well, you see, my wife seems to enjoy our lovemaking, so..."
"Her majesty takes pleasure in sexual intercourse?" inquired Father Quintus. "I believe that is a sin, but I think I should read Deuteronomy before I say so for certain. But that is her sin, not yours, so please, continue."
"Yes, Father," Roderick obliged him. "Anyway, I wanted to know what it was like to make love to a woman who had a reason for submitting other than her own amusement, so last Tuesday, I spent my afternoon in the company of a prostitute."
The priest drummed his fingers across his bearded chin in a thoughtful manner. "I see. Was she good?"
"Not particularly. She did this strange maneuver with her legs and very nearly threw my back out. I would definitely not say she was worth what I paid her."
"Oh. Well, that certainly is disappointing."
"Is it not? I see now that I should have paid her after, based on her performance, just like you would tip the landlord at a tavern."
"Yes, that would be a smart way to ensure that you get your money's worth. Well, I would normally give some form of penance for the sin of adultery, but you are a king, so... my son, your sins are forgiven."
"Thank you, Father!" exclaimed Roderick. "You would not believe how good it feels to finally get that off my chest. I know, I know, I'm a king and I can do whatever I want, but I did feel rather guilty; after all, I do have a wife and children."
Father Quintus nodded. "Thank you for your display of humility, your majesty. It is a charming thing, for the king to be the first confessor in his kingdom."
"The first?" the king repeated. "But you've been here in Naroni for over half a year!"
"Well, what can I say, your majesty? It would seem that the more godly of peasants chose to remain in Dovia," surmised Father Quintus.
"True. Oh well, I trust you to shepherd these lost lambs, Father."
"I hope I do not fail you, your majesty."
Father Quintus tilted his head slightly. "Your majesty, I must thank you for confessing your sins to me. It was very responsible and humble of you, and the Lord is surely smiling down upon you as we speak."
"Well, what can I say?" piped up Roderick, hoping that his sudden pride was not an absolutely horrible sort of sin. "I am king; I must set a good example for my subjects."
NEXT CHAPTER:
