“And when we were like them, somebody that we looked up to kicked our ass into line. We are born in imperfection, Edmund.”
“We are that,” Edmund grimaced. “And no matter how hard I have tried, I think we’re going for the simplicity of imperfection.”
“Clarify?” Gunny said. “You’re not talking about the training program, are you?”
“No,” Edmund sighed. “The Constitution of the United Free States has been drafted. It’s got provisions for both aristocracy and de facto feudalism included. No matter what I did.”
“Does it directly affect us?” Gunny said.
“Only in the aristocracy provisions,” Talbot snarled. “I managed to include a provision that local governments could declare themselves ‘serfdom free’ within their local charters. We’re chartered in Overjay, a geographical area with Washan, Warnan and a few others, including Rowana, which is not a member.”
“What about military forces?” Gunny asked, cutting to the part that was important to him.
“Well, I got an amendment that full voters have to show capability to use arms, but the feudal states got a provision that ‘secondary citizens’ are to be unarmed and they count towards their voters even if they can’t vote. Local citizenry raises its own weaponry and provides for its own defense. Professional military forces swear oath to the United Free States. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the Academy listed as a part of the professional military force.”
“What about the legions?” Gunny asked. “Is that going to be the main force? Or are we going to have to take whatever comes to a muster?”
“Well, the question is, who is going to be in charge?” Edmund replied with a chuckle. “The secret here is to have the best plan at the beginning and get the forces formed around yours. We’ll have more than legions in the long term, but hopefully that will be the core force. On the other hand, the Kents have gone almost entirely towards cavalry. If we can get them to join the UFS, and they’re balking badly, it would be stupid to put them on foot. On the other hand, most of the city states are concentrating on infantry. And who’s got the best infantry?”
“We do,” Rutherford said, assuredly.
“That’s right.”
“So,” Gunny said, changing the subject. “How’s Daneh?”
“Getting weird on me.”
When Edmund got home, his curtains had been replaced.
Indeed, on walking into his front room, he wasn’t sure he was in the right house. The furniture had been rearranged, two of his favorite tapestries were gone and the big table that he was wont to pile stuff on until he figured out what to do with it had disappeared.
Daneh was in the middle of the room, on her hands and knees, measuring the floor with a piece of string.
“What are you doing?” he asked, carefully.
“Measuring for carpets,” Daneh replied, making a note.
“I like tile,” Edmund said.
“I know you do,” Daneh replied, getting up off her knees with some effort. She had started to show lately and it was affecting her balance. “But, do you have any idea how uncomfortable tile is when your ankles are swelling and your feet feel like your arches are falling?”
“You’re not that far along, yet,” he temporized.
“No,” she smiled. “That’s why I’m measuring for carpets now.”
“Is this a pregnant thing?” he asked, carefully. She had had a tendency to snap his head off lately if he asked searching questions about her “delicate condition.”
“I don’t know,” she replied cheerfully. “But whether it is or not, you’re getting carpet.”
“And where is it coming from?”
“I met this nice girl named Shilan who is one of the apprentice weavers. And since the sheep dropped and we’ve got a bit of an excess of wool at the moment, and since the new powered mill is experimenting with different weaves, she thought she could get me some piled wool carpet. That’s where the curtains came from, too.”
“And my tapestries?” he asked cautiously.
“They’re out in your workshop,” she answered. “What do you want for supper?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After a hearty dinner the recruits spent the night in bunkhouses that had been cleared out for them and were woken before dawn by one of the sergeants walking through, banging on a metal shield.
“Up and at ’em, rise and shine, it’s another beautiful day in the legions,” the sergeant said. “Ten minutes for the jakes then fall out in front of the barracks.”
Herzer lined up for the latrines — there were only two seats available for the whole group — then washed sketchily in a rain barrel. Finally he joined the mob in front of the bunkhouse.
“We’re not going to try to move you around in formations, yet,” the sergeant said after doing a headcount, “because you’d just be falling over your own feet. So if you’d just follow me in your customary cluster fisk and try not to fall too far behind, we’ll go get you in-processed.
The gaggle followed him to a series of buildings near the base of the western hills. These were more substantial than most of the “temporary” buildings that had been thrown up to handle the refugee influx and Herzer suspected they had supported the annual Faire. They gathered outside the first and then went in one by one.
The room inside had been separated into two by a series of rough tables. On one side were a few civilians and on the other were piles of rough cloth and more than twenty women hastily sewing uniforms from it.
“My, you’re a big one,” the man who seemed to be in charge said. “Katie, I’m going to need an XXL for this one,” the man called, pulling a string from around his neck. “What’s your inseam, big-boy?”
“I have no idea,” Herzer replied. “What’s an inseam?”
“The length of the inside of your thigh,” the man replied, squatting down and measuring it. He chuckled at Herzer’s discomfort. “That’s exactly why I told the silly gunnery sergeant you weren’t to strip until after this bit! I need a forty-four inseam, Katie!”
“He’ll have to do with a forty-six or so,” the woman behind the counter said, handing over some gray clothing, a cloth bag and some sundry cloth strips.
“Take this and change behind that curtain,” the man said, turning to the next recruit in line. “Put your civilian clothes in the bag. Keep your shoes on.”
“What about the rest?” Herzer asked.
“Just hold onto it and go to the next room.”
Herzer changed into the baggy clothes, noting as he did that there were two more sets just as badly made, and hitched the pants up as far as he could with his belt. After that, carrying his “civilian” clothes, money pouch and the other uniforms, he went into the next room.
“Put your old clothes and anything else you were carrying except money or valuables into the bag,” a man said abruptly. “Didn’t you listen?”
Herzer quickly complied and held the bag up. “What now?” The room had a large number of similar bags piled on one side, the table the officious man was at, a burning candle and a stack of badly constructed wooden chests. And that was it.
The man took out leather ties and a candle. “Tie this around it, seal the ties with the wax, put your fingerprint in the wax. When you’re done with training it will be returned. Put your uniforms in the footlocker and carry it with you.”
Herzer did as he was told. Then the man took the bag and handed him one of the chests. “Next room.”
“Ah, very nice boots,” the man in the next room said, kneeling to examine Herzer’s footwear. “You probably would be better off keeping them but orders are orders. Take them off and let me measure your feet.”