Mike frowned for a second as he tried to remember where he’d heard the phrase and then blanched.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he snapped.
“They’re not,” Genadi said in rapid English. “It’s an old custom. A really old custom, one that hasn’t been used since the days of the Tsars. But it’s custom and they can live with it.”
“Kildar, the Kardane is fully acceptable to all involved,” Father Kulcyanov said. “The prospective bride spends one night with the Kildar and the Kildar then gifts her with her bride price. This is a trade for a trade, the opening of the prospective bride for sufficient funds to set up her household. It must be consensual on both sides.”
Mike opened his mouth to reply angrily and then shut it. He was the Kildar. He owned the land they lived on and even the houses they lived in. he could simply order them to ignore this stupidity and they might. Or he might find himself in a bitter multiyear war with disaffected troops he had to trust like his own brothers. So… don’t assault the position, find a way around.
“Okay, Lydia comes up to the caravanserai…”
“Don’t go there,” Genadi said, in rapid English again. “It has to be as it was stated. Don’t try to twist it or you’ll run into real crap.”
Mike sighed. “Explain.”
“It has to be value for value,” Father Mahona said, seriously. “Full value must be given in both directions or it would be a violation of honor. In both directions.”
“Translation,” Genadi said, in Georgian. “If you don’t open Lydia, she’ll be looked upon as too useless to be a woman of the Keldara. She’ll be looked upon as unfit since you rejected her in that way. Her honor will be violated by being alone with you and twice violated for being found wanting.”
“And she and Oleg don’t get married,” Mike said, looking over at Oleg. “You’re going along with this?”
“I am most worried that you will refuse, Kildar,” Oleg said.
“Not that I’m going to… be with Lydia?” Mike asked incredulously.
“I would consider it an honor,” Oleg said, seriously. “As would Lydia. We have discussed this.”
“Crap,” Mike muttered. “What is it with women wanting to jump in the bed of the Kildar? Why couldn’t this have happened when I was seventeen?”
Both questions were rhetorical since he’d already discussed it to death with everyone from Genadi to Nielson. The Kildar was very high status, not only among the Keldara but among the other groups in the region in contact with them. The girls he’d rescued from the Chechen slavers had practically fought one another for the right to be first in his bed. And plenty of the Keldara girls had made it clear they wouldn’t object to even a casual roll in the hay, which was normally verboten among the Keldara. The touch of the king was magic and in the region the Kildar was regarded as more of a king than anyone since Louis the XIV.
“How do you stand with this, Kildar?” Father Kulcyanov asked, again formally. “The arrangement is that Lydia will spend one night with you, upon which night you will open her. For this boon you will grant her the boon of her bride price, which is at a mimnimum five hundred rubles.”
“Lydia’s worth a lot more than that,” Mike muttered. She was, arguably, one of the three prettiest of the Keldara women, which put her in the top one percent internationally. Most of the Keldara girls could easily be supermodels.
“Very well, but I have conditions upon this ceremony. For one thing, we will make it a ceremony. If this is to be done, it should be done well.”
“What do you mean?” Genadi asked curiously.
Mike hadn’t been sure but when the question was asked the broad outlines dropped in as if he had seen them somewhere. Maybe in a dream, maybe in a book, he wasn’t sure. But it was right.
“Genadi, obtain two horses,” he said. “A gelding for me, black by preference but most important is that it’s rideable and good looking. Obtain a… I think they call it a palfrey as well, white by preference. In the meantime, if Lydia doesn’t know how to ride sidesaddle, get her instruction, I don’t care from where or how much it costs. I will get with Mother Savina on the preparations for Lydia, over and above riding lessons. For one thing, there are… call them other riding lessons. She’s not going to come to my bed entirely ignorant and terrified. Anastasia will handle part of that, but I’ll put Mother Savina in charge. There will be special clothing involved for both of us. And when I come to her house to pick her up, there will be a small ceremony. I’ll work on that. This won’t take place for at least a couple of weeks. We need to get the horses and riding lessons, first.”
“Is this an American custom?” Father Kulcyanov asked, confused.
“No,” Mike said. “This is a me custom and you will abide by it.”
“More hot, young, virgin pussy?” Adams asked as Mike entered the kitchen the next morning.
“Oh, bite me,” Mike muttered, pouring a cup of coffee.
“And I thought that not having to fight over time with Bambi and Flopsy was the good life,” Adams continued.
“We’re talking about Oleg, here, damnit,” Mike replied. “If I don’t handle this just right I’m going to lose the support of my top team leader.”
“He’s fully on board,” Adams said. “I was talking about it with Mother Savina. She thinks it’s a great idea.”
“Jesus, this culture is sick,” Mike muttered quietly, so that Mother Savina, who was pottering around in the kitchen, wouldn’t hear him.
“Not really,” Adams said, shrugging. “Odd. Quaint. But hardly sick. If it was sick, they would have found a less pleasant way to manage this. What gets me is how well we get along.”
“Huh?” Mike said, frowning. “Not that I’m not good for a distraction right now.”
“You’ve spent some time in the sandbox,” the chief said, shrugging again. “What do you think about your average towel-head versus the Keldara?”
“No comparison,” Mike said, puzzled. “The Keldara are can-do. They don’t try to stab you in the back. If there’s a problem, they fix it or if they can’t they get your assistance with it and pitch in as much as possible.”
“There’s other stuff, yeah,” Adams said. “But do they remind you of anyone over there?”
“Not really,” Mike said, making a moue of distaste. “If I was comparing them to the towel-heads, it’d be insulting.”
“Ever do much with the Kurds?”
“No,” Mike admitted, thinking about it. “I was training a group that had a couple in it. But not for long.”
“The Kurds are the same way,” Adams mused, leaning back. “With the regular Arabs and what have you in Iraq, you’re always negotiating. You need something done, you have to scratch a back first, or grease a palm. With the Kurds it’s like… BAM! You need something that’s in their interest, they’re right there in support, be it a firefight or power-plant construction. We just… get along better with the Kurds than we do with the Arabs. Gurkhas the same way. You don’t get it with most tribal groups, but you do with, oh, say the Massai. And the Kurds. And the Gurkhas. And now with the Keldara. It’s like some sort of secret handshake. That’s why I agreed with you about the whole commando thing and why I don’t let it sweat me when they come up with something like this. The one thing that I never particularly liked about the Kurds is the way they treat their women; the Keldara are at least better at that.”
“Well, I’m glad you think it’s such a great idea, since you’re going to have a part of the whole thing.”
“Whoa!” the former chief snapped. “I’m not going to touch Lydia.”
“Much as I like her, it’s not Lydia that I’m worried about,” Mike said. “Mother Savina, come over here. We’ve got a ceremony to figure out.”