“I never asked at the time about the trip you and the other men took, and all armed. Was there some danger? Some enemy or wild animals to hunt? Maybe just training?”
“Training?” said Carnigan. “No, it was my turn to do patrolling against the Narthani and the damned Eywellese.”
“Narthani? Who or what are the Narthani?”
Carnigan’s face flushed and he hissed, “Narthani. The Evil One’s offspring. We have to be always on alert for Eywellese raids. The cursed Eywellese Clan is in league with the Narthani and does their bidding. We had a sighting of Eywellese riders to the northwest part of Keelan Province and needed to search for them.”
Yozef didn’t like the sound of this! He knew Eywell was the clan north of Keelan, but Carnigan tied them to the Narthani. What was going on?
“Did you find the Eywellese?”
“No,” Carnigan said, shaking his head. “There were signs of a small party, but they either had gone home or hid too well. This makes us worry all the more. Why would they send groups to spy on us, unless planning to some day send large raiding parties?”
“Raids! Have there been raids into Keelan Province?”
“No. So far only Moreland Province has suffered serious Eywellese raids. They burn farms, steal crops and animals if the party is big enough, and kill all of the people they don’t take away as slaves.”
Yozef sat back, shocked. This didn’t match the view he was developing of Caedellium as a version of an idyllic eighteenth-century New England.
“How often do these raids occur?”
“More often recently. The first one in Moreland was only two months ago. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Oh, there were the usual small raids and vendettas among clans and even families within Keelan. These reports are of scores or more Eywellese. Several small villages and hamlets were destroyed. In some, the people had warning enough so they could run or hide, but word is over fifty Morelanders were taken away and as many as a hundred killed.”
“And you say these Narthani are behind the Eywellese?”
“Everyone assumes so. The Eywellese weren’t so bold before allying themselves with the Narthani.”
“Who exactly are these Narthani? Are they from Caedellium?”
“No. From somewhere else on Anyar. I don’t know the details. You’d have to ask someone like the abbot.”
“So you and the other men . . . you’re part of the protective force against the Eywellese. Part of an . . . ?” Yozef struggled for the Caedellium word for “army,” and nothing surfaced. “I don’t know the Caedellium word. In my language, it would be army. A regular organization for large numbers of men that fight wars.”
Carnigan laid his spoon down and wrinkled his brow. “I don’t understand. What kind of organization?”
“Well, to fight efficiently, the men are organized into groups, starting with the smallest group, which are led by a leader, then several of these groups together with a higher leader over them all, and so on with larger groups. It’s necessary to control and coordinate the fighting.”
Yozef winced. Words of wisdom from an armchair strategist and movie watcher.
“I still don’t understand. If we have to fight, we gather, find the enemy, and drive them away or kill them if we can.”
It sounded more like a mob or a posse, similar to what he saw Carnigan riding off with.
Yozef thought for a moment. “Sorry, I’m probably not explaining myself clearly. My use of your language still needs work.”
Carnigan grunted and finished his last bite. “I’m off to the stable this morning. Grooming horses and cleaning stalls. Then later helping the abbey blacksmith. It’s a chance for you to learn something new.”
“Not today, Carnigan. I have to do some thinking. I may take your advice and try to speak with the abbot about the Narthani.”
Carnigan slapped Yozef’s shoulder and left for his day’s assignment.
Yozef emptied his own bowl, as he searched the dining hall for Brother Fitham. He spied the elderly man rising to leave, and he hurried over to him.
“Hello, Yozef! And how are you this fine God’s day?”
“Fine, fine,” Yozef responded absentmindedly and then rushed on. “There’s something I’d like to talk with Abbot Sistian about. I was wondering if you could find out whether I could see him this morning?”
“I’ll check, but the abbot might ask why you want to see him.”
“Please just say it’s something I need to speak with him about.”
“Whatever you wish. I’ll stop at his office and ask.”
“Thank you, Brother Fitham. I’ll be at my Caedelli language studies in the library.”
The language session proved difficult. The tutoring by Selmar, the abbot’s and abbess’s younger son, had ended a month earlier, and Yozef studied on his own in the abbey library, in his room, or seeking out staff to practice Caedelli. Most days, the necessity of mastering Caedelli provided enough incentive to steel himself to study. But not this day. His mind wandered, fighting concentration while awaiting word from Fitham.
At mid-morning, Fitham appeared at Yozef’s side. “The abbot can see you as soon as you’re ready.”
“Now is a good time.” Yozef gathered up his papers and followed Fitham to the abbot’s office.
Sistian Beynom sat at a desk full of stacks of paper, folder, and ledgers. He smiled when Yozef entered, laid down a quill, and sighed. “You would think a shepherd would spend time with his flock instead of reading and writing reports, planning sermons, and worrying about enough money to run everything. That’s the life of an abbot, one aspect I’m suspicious my predecessor did not fully explain before I took this position.”
Yozef smiled with sympathy, strangely reassured that some aspects of human civilization were the same, no matter what planet.
“Thank you for seeing me, Abbot. There’s something you mentioned when we talked a few days ago. The Narthani. I wanted to find out more about them.”
The abbot’s genial mood vanished. His eyes narrowed, as did his lips. There was a noticeable tightening of the jaw. Something told Yozef the good abbot was not as charitable toward these Narthani as might be expected for someone in his position. However, maybe understanding and forgiveness were not the same here.
“The Narthani,” the abbot spat. “A scourge straight from the Evil One, if there ever was.”
It was the same response as Carnigan. Yozef was definitely getting a bad feeling about these people.
“Who are they?” asked Yozef. “And what do they mean for Caedellium?”
The abbot composed himself for a moment, leaning back in his chair and taking a few deep breaths. Yozef wondered whether he was praying for a more peaceful frame of mind or imagining shoving these Narthani at sword point into the pits of whatever hell the Caedelli believed in.
“They came to Caedellium six years ago. Their own land is on the large continent of Melosia. Though I don’t know their complete history, about four hundred years ago they were one of the minor semi-nomadic peoples living in the cold, dry plains and mountains of north-central Melosia. After consolidating control over a number of other similar peoples, they invaded and took over more fertile lands to the south in a series of bloody wars lasting nearly fifty years. By the time the other peoples of Melosia awoke fully to the Narthani threat, they controlled almost a tenth of the whole continent. In the next hundred and fifty years, they expanded their control to a third of the continent.”
Yozef remembered from the world map Sistian had shown him during their previous meeting that Melosia covered three-quarters of the planet’s hemisphere containing the major land masses. A quick estimate by Yozef put the area controlled by the Narthani at something larger than the entire North American continent. Yozef whistled to himself. Sounds like the Mongols.