“What about Mother Lenka?” Father Devlich said, grinning.
“I was thinking that she would make the Kildar an excellent housekeeper,” Father Mahona said.
“Woe is the Kildar!” Father Shaynav moaned.
“I think there are better choices than Mother Lenka for a housekeeper,” Genadi said, firmly. “Almost any other choice.”
“Who is Mother Lenka?” Mike asked, smiling at the interplay.
“Mother Lenka is… Mother Lenka,” Genadi said, sighing. “She is a force of nature. I think you will like her, but not as a housekeeper.”
“You will be staying here,” Father Ferani said. “Not returning to America?”
“I am not unwanted in America,” Mike said, frowning. “Okay, honesty time. I have enemies. It is one of the reasons I want to train you as militia. Not to defend me, but to defend yourselves if my enemies come for me. But, for now, this is a good place for me to be. It is out of the way and defensible. And with Captain Tyurin’s tacit approval, I can purchase weapons for my defense. I can do this in America as well, but this place, I think, is better.” He paused and grinned. “Even with the friends I have in America, and they are powerful friends, if I kill a bunch of ragheads there will be questions and problems—”
“And here we have shovels,” Father Kulcyanov said, then choked and laughed.
“And here we have shovels,” Mike said with a nod. “And it is a reason for me to get a backhoe. Be joyous.”
“It is good there is a Kildar again,” Father Ferani said, considering him carefully but smiling. “And you are a good Kildar for us. Better than you can know.”
“We should bring you to each of the houses if you will, Kildar,” Father Shaynav said. “I understand you have a taste for beer. You should try each Family’s brew and decide which is best.”
“I don’t think my first day on the job I should get hammered,” Mike pointed out. “But I’ll try a bit.”
“We shall start here,” Father Kulcyanov said, raising his voice in Georgian.
The meeting had been held in the main room of the house with everyone chivvied out except the elders. Now the rest of the Kulcyanov family began pouring in from the back rooms where they must have been packed in like sardines.
“Bring food and drink for the Kildar,” Father Kulcyanov said in Russian. His tones were formal and for once he managed to not wheeze, sitting straight in his chair, his face firm. It gave him a trace of what he must have once been and Mike was sorry he’d never met that man. “We greet our new Kildar. Let him be proud of the peoples he now leads. And let us give thanks to the Father of All that a true Kildar has returned.”
The women began to prepare food as the younger men of the household lined up to be introduced. Mike had a hard time keeping up with all the names but he figured he’d learn them in time. There were four married men in the household, some of them old enough that their sons were of marriageable age. One of the younger ones, Oleg Kulcyanov, hadn’t fallen far from the tree. He was a monster, at least six foot six and broad in proportion, heavily muscled and blond with clear blue eyes. A couple of others had the same general build and look.
The meal was simple and light, bread, cheese and a little sava, which seemed to be the local equivalent of a hamburger, probably because everyone knew he was going to be visiting the other families. And he was given a small tankard of beer to sample. He thought it would be much the same as the beer in the village, but when he tried it he was amazed. He’d thought the beer in the tavern was good until he tried this stuff.
“That’s great,” Mike said, setting down the tankard carefully. The beer was a trifle more bitter than that in the village, but excellent. And, again, with a hint of something he couldn’t quite place. “Do you all brew your own beer?”
“The women of the Families brew the beer,” Father Kulcyanov answered. “Each family has its own recipe. Every spring they have a contest to see who has the best.”
“I can’t imagine any of them being better than that,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Who is the brewer?”
“I am,” one of the older women said, curtseying. “I am Mother Kulcyanov.”
“You have an excellent house, Mother Kulcyanov,” Mike said. “And a fine brew.”
“Thank you, Kildar,” the woman replied, curtseying again. “But I know that I do not make the best beer in the valley,” she added, sighing. “That would be Mother Lenka. The witch.”
“If Mother Lenka’s beer is better than this, she must be a witch,” Mike said, shaking his head.
Through the rest of the day Mike was taken from house to house. In each he had a small meal and tested the beer. After the first two he realized he was never going to be able to tell which was better. He just praised them all to the heavens. He met dozens of men and a few of the women. In the latter case, he was introduced to married women only, generally the family “Mother.” It was apparent that the Families were more like small clans. He wasn’t sure what the total population of the valley was, but there were enough young men to make up at least a company of infantry.
The last house they visited was the Devlich household, the one that he’d come to in the blizzard. Father Devlich seemed the most unsure about him but Mike could handle that.
He was seated at the end of the table while the women served and was handed the usual glass of beer. He was a bit tipsy by that point, but he tried it cautiously. And then he shook his head.
“This must be the house of Mother Lenka,” he said, grinning. “I’d been warned that Mother Lenka’s brew could make an alcoholic of any man.” The beer was flat out fantastic. Strong, full and rich — it was truly “liquid bread.”
“Hah, you’ve heard of me already!” one of the older women said with a cackle. She still had a trace of great beauty buried in a mass of wrinkles, and her hair was still black with only a trace of gray.
“Of your amazing beer and great beauty,” Mike said. “Also that you’re a meek and kind individual.”
“Who has been lying about me?” the woman said. Her Russian was excellent; he knew enough to detect a trace of a Leningrad accent, and Mike suspected she was not from the Families originally.
When he was finished with the meal and beer at the Devlich house, Mike and Genadi stumbled out to the Mercedes and made their way up to the caravanserai. While he’d been being introduced, a group of the Keldara had already headed for the castle and when Mike arrived, wanting nothing more than to have a brief nap, the house and grounds were full of bustle with the courtyard filled with colorfully painted wagons.
“Kildar,” a woman said as he entered, “I am Mother Savina. If you accept my services, I will be your housekeeper.” Mother Savina was a short woman with black hair gone mostly gray and a strong face. “Mother Griffina would be your cook. She is in the kitchen, cleaning. Would you like to meet her as well?”
“Not at the moment,” Mike admitted. “Right now, I’d just like to lie down and sleep off the food and beer. And what beer!”
“I will ensure that there is beer in the house,” Mother Savina said with a smile. “Will you be wanting dinner?”
“The way I’m feeling now the answer is no,” Mike said. “Maybe something light. Are there any beds available?”
“The master suite has already been cleaned and the linens changed,” Mother Savina said, nodding. “Please rest. We will try to keep the noise down.”
Chapter Six
When Mike woke up he just lay in bed for a moment, thinking and working his joints. He’d taken some ibuprofen and drunk a bottle of water before lying down and that helped with the hangover. But it didn’t help, much, with the joints and they were frozen as usual. Between his time in the SEALs and some of the stuff afterwards, he had massive damage to his body; he couldn’t just roll out of bed anymore.