A soft, throaty voice intruded upon his thoughts. “Mah lord husband, Ah feared that Ah would sleep before you came to me.” Her Ehleeneekos was slow, stilted and most ungrammatical.
Tomos, smiling, strode over to the bedside and deposited the basket on one of the carven tables, then said in Mehreekan, “My dear, given time, I’ll see that you learn our language properly, but for now, let us speak in yours, for I do own a dialect or two of it. My mother was, you see, a daughter of King Rahdnee III of Briztuhl.”
She wrinkled her brows. “But . . . but mah daddy said that you were . . . that mah husband would be an Ehleenee duke . . . ?”
Tomos laughed. “I’m that, too, my dear. I’m a hereditary thoheeks of the Kingdom of Karaleenos, a land up to the northeast of here, but I’m only half Ehleen, nonetheless. I’m down here to command troops that my king’s new overlord has loaned to these Ehleenohee until their own army is strong enough to defend their lands without aid.”
Although he conversed gaily, Tomos was become painfully aware of just how Sitheeros had felt when first he had seen this child-woman. She lay propped against one of the bolsters, her flaxen hair now loose and framing her small head and lightly freckled face. Her body was sheathed from throat to below her small feet in a nightgown so sheer that he could easily discern through the fabric the bright red-pink nipples of her proud, pointed breasts and the red-blond tangle of curling hair between her upper thighs. Once more, he wondered fleetingly if Sitheeros’ back-poundings earlier in the evening had damaged his back, for his chest felt suddenly tight and his breathing was become difficult.
Licking dry lips, he poured measures of the watered wine into each of the goblets, added a dollop of the thick honey wine, then proffered one to his bride, before taking a long swallow of his own. Seating himself stiffly on the edge of the luxuriously soft bed, he stretched forth a hesitant and, he noted with a still rational part of his mind, slightly tremulous hand and gently clasped it on one of those enticing breasts. All at once, he was become feverishly hot, he could feel the salt sweat oozing out his pores and trickling down his face and his body under the quilted robe, and he knew that the robe must come off and quickly.
When he stood up to remove it, the girl untied something behind her neck and sat up long enough to pull her wispy nightgown over her head, at which point Tomos’ breathing seemed to become even more constrained, so that he found himself to be panting shallowly like a spent coursing hound at the end of a brisk hunt.
Kicking off the felt shoes, he pulled his own tunic over his head, not even hearing the gasp that issued from between the red, red lips of the nude girl. But when he lay beside her, first placed his arms around her, he felt her stiff, tensed muscles, felt her slender form all a tremble, heard the ghost of a whimper, a sound of hopeless terror.
Restraining the insistent demands of his body, he released her and drew a little away from her, though leaving one hand in contact with her flesh. “Brandee,” he said in a voice that quavered only slightly, “you should have no fear of me. I am your husband, child; I mean you no harm, now or ever. If you so wish it, for tonight I’ll just seek out the bed that was previously here and sleep in that, that you may rest and sleep and compose yourself for the morrow. I have no kin here, nor either have you, so what we two do or do not do in this chamber and this bed tonight is no one’s business but ours. Come now, speak your thoughts to me, Brandee, tell me your wishes.”
A shudder rippled the length of her body, she sobbed one time, then she began to speak. “Ah . . . Ah’m truly sorry, mah lord husband . . . but . . . but when Ah . . . Ah saw it, Ah . . . It’s just so ... so huge, so much bigger than Ah’d thought it would be. Ah don’t think Ah can . . . that you can ... Ah know I should be, must be brave, that’s what my mothuh and aunts told me, but . . . but ...” Then she began to cry.
Tomos took her, enfolded her slender body in his arms and held her against his hairy chest, patting her back gently as she cried out her fears and her terrors. At some length, when the sobs had first muted, then ceased, he released her, and, propping himself upon an elbow so that he could the easier look into her swimming, blue-green eyes, he said, “Brandee, bravery is only necessary in the face of danger or of pain. I pose no danger to you and I will not willfully hurt you, so save your bravery for some time when it is needed. Because you still have your flower, there will no doubt be some pain, but no more than you can bear, and soon there will be none at all.
“My first wife, who died years ago of a summer fever, was smaller even than are you—only fourteen hands from soles to pate, and slender—yet we two experienced scant difficulty in doing the things that men and women do together, not after the first few days. Indeed, when she died, she was carrying our child in her womb.
“But look you, my ladywife, you have had a full measure of excitement this day just past, as too have I.
Let us sleep now. We two have the rest of our lives in which to learn to enjoy each other and breed me an heir or three. You must be the one to choose the time for a beginning of lovemaking. For now, sleep you well; 1 know that I shall.”
Brandee thought, as she felt the scarred, muscular, hairybody lying beside her slowly relax, heard his breathing become deep and regular, “This stranger to whom they have married me, he is so very kind, so thoughtful of me, of my feelings, he is so wise and so caring. Could Daddy have been aware of this? He never met my lord husband ... I don’t think; perhaps the Lord Duke Sitheeros told him. But I am so very glad that they married me to this man and not to that old, fat, toothlessly leering Chief Rahbin of the Nahkszfil Tribe, who is always undressing girls with his eyes and dribbling porridge down his chins and the fronts of his shirts. My lord husband keeps himself so very clean and smells so pretty, while I don’t think old Chief Rahbin has had a wash since he left his cradle.
“Yes, I think I could be very, very happy with this man to whom they have married me, this Duke Tomos Gonsalos.”
Epilogue
Despite his ever constant press of affairs, Thoheeks Mahvros was quick to grant an appointment—over the strident, almost carping arguments of his staff—to the signatory of a properly drafted letter. However, when the man actually stood before him, smiling, he was much amazed. Save only for certain racial differences—lack of height, a flat-muscled, wiry build, hair and skin barbarian-light—had he not known the rp-n, he would have taken him for an Ehleen gentleman from his dress, his manners, his cultured dialect.
“My, you have changed, my old friend,” he commented, shaking his head slowly. “Please be seated, there. You will have wine?” He signaled the hovering servant to pour, then waved him from out the chamber.
Once the forms, the polite, meaningless words, had been exchanged, the healths to each other and to Council and to the High Lord had been announced and dutifully sipped from the gilded silver goblets of much-watered wine, Mahvros said, “Now, all of that time-consuming foolishness completed, what can I do for you, Captain of Elephants Gil Djohnz?”
“My lord, I want to leave the army,” said Gil flatly.
“Well, surely, Gil, this would be a military matter, it would fall under the jurisdiction of Tomos Gonsalos or Thoheeks Pahvlos, not under mine,” Mahvros replied.
Gil sighed. “I spoke with Tomos; he agreed, though with regret. But when he sent me on to Pahvlos, the old bastard flatly refused. It would seem that he considers me to be some variety of military slave, thinks that I and my elephants are owned entirely by him and his army. Tomos went over and tried to reason with the hard-headed old fucker, but even he could get no more of a concession than that as the army is actually the property of Council and the thoheekseeahnee, then Council must make any decision that would serve to override his.”