“It is a matter of custom, Kildar,” Father Mahona said, tightly.
“Yes, it is,” Mike replied. “It is a matter of control of reproduction. I can lecture on it for hours. I probably understand it better than you do. There are pills and things to do it in more advanced cultures. But in your culture, for thousands of years, the only way to control reproduction was to control the body of the woman. The only way that worked, at least. But Lydia is still in the same condition as when she left. So is Irina, for that matter. In the future, I will be much more careful. You’ll have to chalk this up to the Kildar not knowing your customs as well as I should. I have been here for a very short time. But, I will not have Oleg pissed at me because I tainted his marriage, much less ended it! That is final. Is this clear?”
“Yes, Kildar,” Father Mahona said, angrily.
Snow still covered the ground thickly, but the roads were plowed so Mike used those for his morning run. He’d gotten severely out of shape but between the weight machines and running in the morning some of the old form was coming back. Every other day he’d started laying off the run and taking a heavily weighted ruck up the paths in the mountains. The first week he’d barely been able to make it a few hundred meters, but at the end of three weeks he was climbing all the way to the summit of the western mountains. The first day he made it to the top he’d had to just sit up there in the blowing cold and breathe for a good half hour. The air was noticeably thinner and the ruck march had worn him to the point he wasn’t sure he could get back down. It was late afternoon before he made it to the caravanserai and he’d been in no shape to work out the next day.
This morning he was coming back from a light ten-mile jog that had taken him up and down the hills to the north. He turned into the road up to the caravanserai, speeding up and really pushing the muscles up the switchbacks until he reached the gate, then slowing down and trotting around the gardens to the south. He was breaking snow at that point so he slowed to a walk and continued around the caravanserai until he got back to the front door.
It felt good. The run had been long and not particularly slow and some of the hills to the north had been steep, not even mentioning the damned road up to the caravanserai. But he still felt good. Back in form. Yakov had even gotten the girls in town cleaned up, if not the house, and Mike was back to getting his ashes hauled on a regular basis. Life was good.
He dropped the sweats on a table in the foyer — it was nice having servants — and headed up to his room in sweat-soaked shorts and a T-shirt. After a shower and shave he got into jeans and flannels and headed back downstairs.
He’d taken to eating in the kitchen, much to Mother Griffina’s initial shock and horror. But at this point she’d gotten over it. By the time he made it back downstairs the sweats had been whisked away, coffee was brewed and Mother Griffina was ready to serve up his “barbarian” breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns and biscuits with gravy. It helped that he’d gotten various German appliances shipped in, at exorbitant cost. The kitchen had all new stoves and an industrial refrigerator and freezer. In the attached cellars there was a zero degree freezer he intended to fill up during the year as meat and vegetables became available. He’d also gotten a couple of sets of washing machines and dryers so Mother Savina and her helpers wouldn’t have to do all the laundry by hand.
“There was a call from a shipping company,” Mother Savina said as he entered the room. “There are two containers on the way, both full. They should be here a little after noon.”
“The militia’s equipment arrives,” Mike said, sitting down at the kitchen table and nodding to Mother Griffina in thanks as she poured coffee. “We’re going to need a bunch of strong backs.”
“And Genadi called from Tbilisi and asks that you call him back,” Mother Savina added.
“I’ll call him after breakfast,” Mike said, as Mother Griffina set the heaping plate in front of him. Between the cold and the run he was famished.
After breakfast he took a cup of coffee to the office and dialed Genadi.
“Kildar,” the farm manager said when he answered the phone. “It is good to hear from you.”
“What’s the situation?” Mike asked. When they’d last spoken the local Ford dealer only had two models that they needed. They’d placed an order for the rest.
“All of the trucks are in,” Genadi said. “And the SUVs are supposed to be on the next ship. When do you want to start delivery?”
“What about the tractors and sundry equipment?” Mike asked.
“I’ve gotten the entire list rounded up,” Genadi said, happily. “They can be delivered at any time.”
“Monday,” Mike said. “The militia equipment is coming in today. I’m going to store it in the cellars for the time being. Bring it in on Monday and we’ll make an event of it. There’s not much going on at the moment.”
“The weather report expects a thaw to start next week,” Genadi said. “There will be the floods starting maybe. We can use the time to train people on the equipment.”
“The trainers are going to be arriving week after next,” Mike said, thoughtfully. “We’re not going to start serious training until we have some idea how the new equipment works with the planting.”
“We will work it out,” Genadi said. “Can do.”
“Can do,” Mike replied. “Schedule delivery of all of it for Monday. And don’t forget my SUV. The Mercedes is awfully comfortable but I’m tired of not being able to drive anywhere but paved roads.”
“I won’t,” Genadi said with a chuckle.
“Later,” Mike said, cutting the connection. “Come,” he added at a knock on the door.
“The Keldara will be here a little before noon,” Mother Savina said.
“Ask Mother Griffina to prepare to feed them, if we have the food in the house,” Mike said. “I’d like to take every opportunity to feed them when I can. That cuts down on the stores they have to draw on.”
“I’ll pass that on to Griffina,” Mother Savina said, nodding.
“There are about twenty people arriving next week,” Mike said. “We’re going to have to lay in stores for them as well. Make sure there’s plenty of beer; most of them are going to be beer drinkers. Get some wine as well. And get the upstairs rooms cleaned up, most of them will be housed in there. They will be staying for some time. I’ll get some helpers for you while they’re here; I’m not sure I want to mix Keldara women in with these guys until I get a better read. I need to go talk to Yakov.”
Mike found the pimp in his usual spot, hanging out by the door hoping for customers.
“Mr. Jenkins,” Yakov said, happily, as he opened the door for the former SEAL. “It is good to see you in the house again.”
“Glad to be back,” Mike said as they walked into the main room. It was early so the girls were probably still in bed; the room wasn’t occupied anyway.
“I can wake up Inessa,” Yakov offered. The redhead was Mike’s “regular” although he switched around to keep all the girls in spending money. Even the cold-eyed blonde who was good in bed, but a maven for tips. The problem with screwing her, though, was every time Mike got it stuck in he was half afraid there’d be a razor waiting for him. The girl was just trouble. He’d seen it in how she treated the other girls and even Yakov, who apparently had no control over her.