“I didn’t,” Arman said, rising from his seat and going to stand near his father. “You set me aside. I thought you blamed me in some way, felt that I wasn’t sufficient comfort for losing her.”
“You look like her,” his father said in a low, harsh voice. “Gods, Arman, you have her eyes exactly, and her hair. After she died, you kept looking at me with those eyes...and all I could see was her. I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to see them when I missed her...still miss her, every day.... Every morning for years, when I woke, I was sorry I hadn’t died in my sleep, because I wanted to be with her.”
“I didn’t know,” Arman whispered. He’d had no idea...he’d thought his parents had an arranged marriage, as most of their class had. He hadn’t realised it was a love match, or that his father had been suffering a grief as deep as any Arman had ever felt. “I didn’t understand at all. I’m sorry.”
“Now you’re sorry,” his father said gruffly, “but for years you were buried in your books, ignoring us, offering nothing to us, to me. All you had to give me were her eyes, when I wanted her, I wanted her joy and her laughter, and her love. All I got in return was a disagreeable little boy who would rather read than talk to any one.”
“But....” Had all these years of animosity been caused by two different ways of dealing with pain? “Father, I’m truly sorry. For my offence, I apologise. I didn’t know you wanted more of me. I thought no one wanted anything of me at all.”
“Of course I did, you stupid fool. Any parent wants their son to love them. When I realised I couldn’t have that, I at least wanted you to make me proud of you. And now you’ve turned traitor.”
“I wanted the war to end, father. It was sapping Kuprij, and would have destroyed her. Surely you can see we would never have won it? If you’d been there yesterday, you’d have seen it, had it all explained. Why were you not?”
His father looked at him. “I’ve had enough of it. I was about to announce my retirement, hand my seat over to Tijus. I was only waiting until you were returned safe...or we got news. We’ve been waiting for weeks for news of whether you were dead or alive, heard nothing at all. I didn’t realise—” He coughed. “I’ve had enough of Kita, and the war, and the whole damn stupid business. Tired of dealing with fools like Vilkus and Mekus. I was looking forward to my grandchildren. Now I suppose I’ll never have those either.”
“But Temir...she and Tijus will have children, surely.”
His father snorted. “The woman’s barren—they’ve been married eight years, and she’s never even been pregnant. Oh, he loves her, of course, and won’t set her aside, but there won’t be a child there. I thought Mayl was barren too, but she caught—only it turns out it was from the wrong stud. What will you do with the boy? Send him away too?”
“I don’t know. Its wrong that he should suffer for her sins, but I can’t find it in me to want him for myself. Father, I’m sorry for your disappointment in me. Had the war not happened, I wouldn’t be leaving. I....” Arman didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t stay for his father, and he couldn’t offer him children where none existed. “At least you have Mari. I honestly never intended her to leave your home. I’ve been too overwhelmed by the news about Karus. I suppose I didn’t think it through carefully....”
His father dismissed the words with an impatient wave of his hand, but his eyes were rather red again. “Never mind, never mind. You’d best be leaving and take the trickster with you. I daresay you and I will not see each other again. I’m not going to this damn banquet. I can plead the cold that got me out of the ceremony.”
“Perhaps you should come and meet the Darshianese, father. They’re entirely different from how they’re portrayed.”
“I’m too old, Arman. Too old and tired, and I have lost my taste for politics. Go and find your new life. My dreams are dust—yours don’t have to be.”
Arman couldn’t just leave it at that. “Father, you’ve a good twenty years or more left of life. Karus told me to find some joy in mine before I died. I pass that advice on to you, for what it’s worth.”
His father seemed not to hear him, and there was nothing more Arman could think of to say to him. “Farewell then, father.” He went to the garden door, intending to find Jera and leave.
“Arman.” He turned and looked at his father. “What I said before...about your mother. That was wrong of me. Elda would never think you a disappointment. She loved you dearly.”
“And I loved her. I loved you too, until I believed you no longer wanted me. I regret my temper, father. I regret the wasted years. At least I can wish you a long life and a peaceful one.”
His father wiped his face wearily. “Don’t waste your talents on a damn farm, Arman. Use your mind. It’s a gift you have from your mother. At least be productive up there—you have the ability.”
Arman bowed. “Thank you. Find some joy again, father. I did, in the last place I would ever have imagined.”
His father grimaced a little. “Then you’re a fortunate man. Farewell, Arman.”
Arman wanted to say more, something to ease the pain he saw in his father’s eyes, but it was years too late for both of them. He had a different path to follow now. He bowed again, and used the door to the garden to make his exit.
He would never see his father again, but rather than the relief he’d been anticipating, it caused him more sorrow than he could have ever expected. He even wondered if he should delay his departure, but he couldn’t do that to Kei. No, both he and his father would have to live with their mistakes and their misunderstanding, and find peace in their own separate ways. He hoped Mari would offer his father the comfort her son had brought him. If she did, then perhaps his father would find that joy after all.
~~~~~~~~
At his next destination, Arman brought the soldiers inside with him, and experienced a childish delight at the consternation this caused. “Peri, call all the servants to the kitchen. I’m going to speak to your mistress, and then to you all.”
“Y-yes, Sei,” the boy stuttered at them. Arman swept past him, glad this was the last time he would need to interact with these people. He took Jera and the soldiers to the library and instructed him to wait for him. “This won’t take long.”
“Are you sure you don’t want moral support?” Jera asked, his kind face showing his concern.
“Morals and my wife are complete strangers. It would be a waste of time.”
He found Mayl out on the southern verandah—she wasn’t alone. “Come to admire my father’s grandchild, Mekus?” he said. “Or are you visiting your son?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Senator Mekus blustered, backing away from the chair where he’d been sitting in a rather intimate position with Arman’s wife. Mayl straightened her gown hastily and glared at him.
“Really? Then you’re even more stupid than I thought you were. However, you can stay to hear this. Mayl, I am sending you back to your father. We have the requisite witness, I see,” he added, nodding at the woman sitting in terrified silence off to one side, suckling a small infant. “Sei Mayl, I repudiate you, I return your dowry and I return you to your family, unwanted. Leave this house within the hour.” He drew out the banker’s note and laid it on the long chair. “Take it and get out.”
“You can’t send me away, I’m divorcing
you
,” she said with smug malice. “And I want more than my dowry, Sei Arman. Much more. Treason is a very good ground on which to get rid of you and strip you of your fortune.”
“My fortune is gone, you stupid bitch. I signed it away this morning, all but this. But if you want to go to court over it, please, by all means. Let’s expose your tawdry affair with a man old enough to be your father—or is it grandfather? I can never keep track of such matters,” he said, looking Mekus up and down with disgust.
“You have no
proof
! No servant here will ever speak against me. It’s your word against mine. The word of a traitor against a member of the aristocracy, a virtuous woman with a new-born child.”
Arman snorted at the idea of Mayl calling herself virtuous, with her dress still disordered from Mekus’s hand up her skirt. “A child I see you can’t be bothered even to feed yourself—what’s the matter, doesn’t Mekus like the taste of milk?”
The senator made a disgusted noise. “She’s right. You’ve not a shred of evidence, and once she’s done with you, I’ll prosecute you for libel.”
“And get what, Mekus? My money’s gone, the house isn’t mine—and besides, how will it look when people learn you’ve used your own daughter to pimp for you?”
Mayl gasped, then looked at her lover in dismay. “How...you have no proof. You’re guessing.”
Arman shook his head. “Not a bit of it—as for proof, did you think it amusing to send my wife disgustingly detailed propositions through your daughter, with me to deliver it? When I found that letter in my files I could hardly believe even you could sink that low. Unfortunate for you I became distracted that evening and forgot about it—I bet it caused you some anxious moments when you realised it hadn’t arrived.”
“A forgery,” Mekus said, even as he backed away from Mayl. “Still no proof.”
“Really? You know, Meke doesn’t strike me as a particularly strong-minded or intelligent person. How long do you think she will last under examination? Especially when I remind her of the penalty for perjury—she’s nothing much to look at now, but losing her nose, ears and tongue might ruin her marriage prospects, don’t you think?”
“You wouldn’t,” Mayl shouted at him. “You’d never go through with it, the scandal—”
“A traitor avoiding scandal? Just try me, Mayl. I’m in a mood to wipe the floor with both your pathetic hides. Now, get out. Take your money and leave. Your servants are about to be turned away, their notices paid and the house locked up. If you don’t leave, I’m sure the senator can tell you about the gentleman who played so prettily with him yesterday. He’s in the library right now, waiting for me.”
Mayl went white, and Mekus gulped. “Come, my dear. I can protect you.”
“Oh, leave me alone, you fool,” she snapped, picking up the banker’s letter. “Kesa, bring the child.”
“No.”
“What?” Mayl said, turning to Arman. “You surely don’t want him.”
“I don’t want you to have him either, and certainly not to be raised by a pair of wanton thugs like you two. The child is mine officially and I claim him by right. Even if you divorce me, there’s nothing you can do. Take yourself off, and don’t plead the sorrowful mother with me. You’ve not even looked in the boy’s direction since I came in, so little does he concern you—and no one decent would cavort with their lover in front of a child this way. Just get out. Your belongings will be sent to you, and if you linger, I’ll have you thrown into the harbour along with this worthless creature. I have some very angry Darshianese with me, Mekus—any one of whom would love to see you die very painfully.”
The senator was almost purple with anger. “Her Serenity will hear of this, Arman. Your father too.”
“My father knows, and, please, do tell Kita. It’ll save me the effort. Get out of my house now. Both of you, before I lose what little control I have!”
His roar frightened them into action and they scurried out, much to Arman’s relief. He turned to the wet nurse, who, he now realised, was only a slip of a girl, no more than seventeen or eighteen. “My apologies, madam,” he said in a gentler tone. “Wait—I know you, do I not?”
He came over to her and crouched down. He had to admire the way she protected the baby and continuing to feed it, even though she was obviously nearly out of her wits with fear. “I won’t hurt you or the child. You’re not to blame for this business. Your face is familiar though—I do know you, yes?”
“Yes, Sei,” she whispered. “I’m Lieutenant Vikis’s wife. We were at your captain’s wedding last year.”
“So you were. But what are you doing here? Why are you working for Mayl?”
The child finished feeding at that point, and he waited for her to wipe his mouth and arrange her dress again. “My little girl died three weeks ago,” she said in a quiet voice, “and at the funeral, an agent looking for a wet nurse came and asked if I would work for your wife. I needed the money, Sei Arman. My husband... Sei, is he lost? I’ve been waiting for news for so long...and he doesn’t know about our baby.”
Her face was a mask of misery, and under the terror, he saw the distinct marks of very recent grief. What a disgusting practice wet-nursing was, preying on the bereaved, and mostly just so aristocratic wives could regain their figures sooner. “No, he’s not lost. He was injured in the same battle where I hurt my leg, but the last report I had of him two weeks ago said he was fit and well and waiting to return home.”
She gave a little cry of astonishment. “He’s alive? Really?”
“Yes, he is.” The position was killing his leg and he had to stand. “It’s Kesa, yes?” She nodded. “Kesa, I need to get the boy away from here and he needs a nurse. Would you be willing to look after him until I can find another? It’ll mean some travelling, but I’ll make sure you and Vikis are reunited. I’ll pay you well for your trouble. Do you have dependents here?”
“No, Sei. My father died some time ago, and left my mother a widow. But late last year she fell ill with a lung disease, and she died a week after you left. It’s just my brother and me now. There were so many bills to pay because of my mother’s illness, and they’re only giving me half of Vikis’s salary. That’s why I needed the work.”