The Aebeling (5 page)

‘Stand still’, she instructed, and then put her hand print on Conn chest. She giggled. The red hand was very distinct – at least it matched his underwear. ‘This shows that I am grateful to you for saving my life. Everyone will want to put their hands on you during the dance. You need to acknowledge their gratitude by putting your hand on them – but not in red. There are other colors that you can choose.’

Conn went and joined everyone as they danced around the fire. As he joined into the choreography, he found himself being hand printed by the dancers. The first was Elva, and she placed her hand over his heart. She did another for Derryth; this one on his back. When Conn reciprocated, she insisted that he place his print on her breast. To Conn’s consternation, most of the women asked him to imprint their breasts with the yellow ochre that he had chosen to use.

The dance continued for at least thirty minutes, and at the end Conn was covered in hand prints; and his hands had touched a not inconsiderable number of people, and an awful number of breasts. At its conclusion, the feast was finished – it was a simple and definitive end to the night.

Elva then took Conn to the bathhouse to remove the paint – it was also another group activity as the paint was everywhere. Clean, he finally reached his bed, and quickly fell into a fitful sleep; interrupted by images of naked women. Elva, her excellent figure, and his hand on her breast, seemed to feature prominently.

Conn woke from his sleep a few hours later than usual, and despite the vivid dreams, he felt refreshed; albeit surprised to find Elva waiting for him, sitting on a pillow at the entrance to his longhouse. He hated surprises. His senses must have been dulled by the mead – he had certainly drunk a lot of it.

Even in the dull light, and no longer dressed in leather armor, and in more clothes than the night before, Elva was even more beautiful; the linen choli with the laced bodice did everything it could to emphasise her figure. Her long black hair unbound, it flowed down each side of her light brown elongated face. She had full lips that begged to be kissed, but her eyes were warrior eyes that warned against trespass.

Only dressed in his linen trews, Conn was concerned she would see things that she probably shouldn’t at this early stage in their relationship, so somewhat rushed, Conn dressed; pulling on his woolen pants and a silk undershirt. He was about to pull over his tunic when she stood and came closer – putting her hand out to touch the shirt; her hand now on his chest. She moved it over the fabric.

Conn was now very grateful he had put on his trousers first.

‘What is this – it feels magnificent.’

Conn replied on the basis that she was talking about the material. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s, umm, a material called silk – it is made from the cocoon of an insect.’

‘An insect – really? And this medallion – it is finely crafted.’

Sighing, she removed her hand, and he continued to dress. ‘It feels so soft – just beautiful. So, what would you like to do today? I am at your disposal.’

Assuming again that she meant something outside of the room, Conn replied ‘I am happy to watch and learn.’

‘Very well.’ She turned and headed to the doorway. She looked back. ‘I assume that you are hungry?’

‘Starving.’

Grabbing additional supplies from his pack, he followed Elva to what was effectively the village kitchen. He presumed that there must be more than one as the village had several thousand people living in the vicinity. The cooks fussed around him, serving hot unleavened wheat bread and fish stew. He declined the mead, but accepted the tea. It had surprised Conn to find that the camellia sinensis plant grew wild in the forest; and that the consumption of green tea was part of their culture.

After a tour of the village and the lake foreshore where fishermen were heading out to collect food for the day, they arrived at the school of the weapons master. Whilst the bow was the main weapon of the Twacuman, they actually preferred a bamboo staff – a Bo – over a sword. The master was an elder of indistinguishable age, and he was guiding children through routines with the Bo.

Elva explained that children practiced in the morning and adults in the afternoon. The master asked Conn if he would like to join in.

He readily agreed, quickly picked up their routines, and added those techniques to his forty years of martial arts study. The master finally dismissed the class, and they sat down and watched.

He addressed Conn. ‘You have great skill, Conn il Taransay. I noticed that you carried a Bo when you arrived, and I fear we have not seen the extent of your abilities yet. I have decided that Elva should challenge you to a bout.’

Elva was surprised. ‘Me – why me? Are you not the master?’

He smiled knowingly. ‘But you are the student – it is time for you to learn.’

Elva collected a Bo and bowed. ‘Very well Master; and what skill will I try to learn today?’

‘Not a skill – an emotion; humility. I fear that we will all learn that today.’ He turned to Conn. ‘The rules are simple – no stopping until one has touched the soil with something other than their feet. Please do not kill her.’

Elva was affronted. ‘Kill me? Why would he kill me?’

He answered evenly. ‘Because I think he is better than you.’

Elva looked to her Master in surprise and after he smiled, she shrugged and turned back to Conn; they bowed and the bout commenced. Conn was cautious at first – Elva was a skilled warrior. A few minutes into the bout, Elva had tried every skill she had to pass Conn’s defenses – without success, and Conn turned defense into offense and very quickly Elva felt the dust, her feet were swept from under her and she landed on her butt. Conn helped her up, and they bowed.

Derryth had arrived, feeling much better, and laughed from the sidelines where he sat with the Master.

Elva looked at him as irritated as she could muster. ‘Easy for you to laugh – with your arm in a sling. Did I not win the last time that we fought?’

‘That was your lucky day; today was not your lucky day.’

Word spread that Elva had been defeated by the visitor, and other challengers soon arrived – proud wiga who considered themselves the best warriors in all the known lands. They all lost – Conn was simply quicker and stronger than them all; the Bo moved at such a speed that eventually they all missed its flight and its intent.

At lunch the losers boasted on the length of times that they lasted rather than the fact that they didn’t win, and after lunch, they challenged him to a contest with the bow. Here too Conn was their equal; everything they could do, he could do just as well – not least helped by the fact that his bow was at least twenty yards stronger than theirs.

With his position as wiga confirmed, Conn quickly became an established member of the community, and took his place in their daily routines; whether patrolling the mountains with the wiga, helping the craeftiga prepare for winter, or sitting talking with Brina and Abrekan at night when they ate. Most days, he patrolled with Elva and a dozen wiga; later Derryth joined them. Conn had spent a lot of time working on the recovery of his shoulder, and it had improved to the extent that he could ride and use his bow. He was very grateful; a wiga without a bow was no use to anyone.

As the winter closed around them, Conn also had the time to learn about Meshech and all its inhabitants; extracting what he could from Abrekan about the Priecuman nations, and everyone else about the Twacuman.

He was very surprised to learn that the Twacuman were not overly concerned with sex. They saw it as a means of procreation, a necessity of life, and something to enjoy, but it didn’t rule their lives.

‘Fornication,’ Elva advised him, ‘is something that only the Ancuman and the Priecuman are obsessed about. We are masters and not servants to our werhad; we fornicate occasionally – when we feel like it.’ That being said, women soon competed to be his ‘first’. It was not unusual for someone to be waiting at his longhouse when he returned at night; mostly women, sometimes even young men. Conn politely refused, though his resistance was sorely tested – he had already seen most of them naked.

It was late one evening and Conn sat writing in his journal, when Elva appeared at his doorway. It was unusual for her to visit him in his room.

‘Is something the matter?’ he looked up curiously.

‘I’m not sure’, she came in and settled herself on a cushion on the ground near the door. ‘I was just talking to some of the girls who have come to see you here at night – everyone is curious why you have rejected their offers. It is common knowledge that a Priecuman will rarely refuse the offers of any female to fornicate – let alone a Twacuman. Abrekan and his sons are not refusing – are you not the same as them – is there something wrong with your werhad?’

The Twacuman were nothing if not direct. Conn was unsure why he had been refusing – possibly because there was absolutely no challenge – the young women would pop their heads in his doorway and ask if he would like to ‘fornicate’, as if it was nothing significant. Almost like the tea lady wandering past and asking if you’d like a cup of coffee. Even he felt it was more than that, and Conn’s long history with women proved he was more Casanova than monk.

Conn objected however to the slight to his masculinity, and he offered the best excuse he could muster.

‘I have only been here a few weeks – I was unsure of what is appropriate...’

‘So your werhad is not sated?’

Conn shook his head.

She stood silently for a minute. ‘So would you like me to help you keep your werhad dowsed? It would not be good for a Priecuman that it goes unquenched – and after all, your wellbeing is my responsibility...’

‘I wouldn’t want you to feel compelled…’ It was curious to Conn that they saw desire – werhad – as a beast that needed to be tamed – some kind of burden that unless shared would weigh down the carrier. Nonetheless, Conn’s memory of Elva naked was still vivid. Tall, sleek, and voluptuous, his time spent with her every day kept the memory explicit. ‘And I thought you didn’t take men to bed.’

She agreed, ‘As a cempestre, it is preferable that I restrict myself to women, just in case I fall pregnant, but I am prepared to make an exception for you – Twacuman do not get pregnant to Priecuman.’ She nodded, to herself, as if things were now sorted. ‘So have you any werhad today – or should I come back tomorrow? I don’t know how large your needs are?’

‘Usually quite large...’ Conn stood and walked to his bed that he had also built for himself, sat down and patted to area next to him. ‘If you would like to take off all your clothes, and come over here, you will soon see just how large they are.’

‘All of my clothes? That seems a trifle unnecessary.’

CHAPTER 03

Halani was picture postcard perfect. In all directions there were snow covered mountains; below them was a huge lake that stretched as far as you could see, with forest consuming the area in between. Only towards the peaks were there open areas of meadows and grasslands, and it was here that the Twacuman took their flocks of goats in the summer. Travelling with the patrols also brought him into contact with the hundreds of villages perched on the banks of the lake; each with a population less than a thousand residents.

Once there were ten times that number, but over the last five hundred years the population of Halani had steadily declined. Brina told him that she feared for the long term survival of her people – it seemed that the Gyden had deserted them and that they were destined to disappear as a people – leaving only the Ancuman and Priecuman behind. If that was the Gyden’s will, she was not concerned, but she didn’t know.’

That being said, of the people living in Halani, over sixty percent were female, and Derryth explained that was also was the Gyden’s will; perhaps if she wanted more Twacuman, it would not be too hard to increase the population quickly. The Twacuman also lived very long lives. Derryth was nearly seventy but looked about forty, while no sane man would say that Elva was fifty. They lived as long as a hundred and fifty winters. Comparatively, the Ancuman lived for over a hundred years while the Priecuman lived between forty and sixty winters. Derryth said that explained why the largest population were the Priecuman – they bred like rabbits because they did everything in a hurry!

Conn wanted to think of the Twacuman as polygamous – but that wasn’t really accurate as there was no marriage ceremony of any kind. Everything was just casual. On the other hand, Abrekan said that the Priecuman societies were definitely polygamous; as a merchant he could have two, with up to five bedda for a Healdend. Priecuman society had lots of strict rules about dowries, and although he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to get another bedda, as he couldn’t afford to refund the dowry of one of the two he had!

It also became evident to Conn that the Twacuman lacked some of the vices that plagued other “humans”; if anything they were too agreeable, but their temperament allowed everyone to live their communal lifestyle without conflict. There was no private ownership – they shared everything and worked for the betterment of all, and all done without jealousy. Within that, people were neatly divided into roles determined by divine guidance. All Twacuman were born without purpose, but as they grew, the Wothbora would ‘know’ if they should become wiga or which type of craeftiga they should become. They accepted that with the grace that they accepted everything else. The only exception to this rule was for the role of Aebeling. The next leader of the Twacuman was always a descendant of a previous Aebeling, though not necessarily the son or daughter. It could be a cousin; a system of Tanistry not dissimilar to the Celts but one that didn’t exclude female descendants.

Neither Derryth nor Elva had children yet; Derryth said that he once dreamed that the mother of his child didn’t live in Meshech. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to meet her given he never left Halani, but the Gyden knew. He had faith. Elva would not have a child until she had stopped being a cempestre – in another thirty years.

The Gyden ruled all Priecuman lives as well; they spoke to their people through a kind of priestess called a Folgere, who lived in Cirices built within the cotlifs. Abrekan told him that each Priecuman tribe followed a different Gyden; but was unable to enlighten him of much else about them. Wrong person to ask, he said. It was one of his favorite answers, Conn decided. There was no evidence of a Cirice anywhere in Halani. Here the forest was their Cirice, and the Wordloga was the interpreter of the wishes of the Gyden. Such knowledge arrived in the whispering of the leaves. The trees had been very quiet – silent in fact – about Conn, Derryth informed him.