Copyright 2011
Martin V. Parece II
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No part of this book may be printed, scanned, reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
To my children, for who I do everything.
To my wife, without whom I could accomplish nothing.
Prologue
In the southwest of Aquis, there lived a commoner by the name of Pel. Approaching the middle age of thirty, he was a farmer and lived on the land his parents before him had owned and farmed. He was a good man, relatively unremarkable for his race, and he worked his land tirelessly. The land in Aquis was bountiful, and his farm provided him an ample living, despite its small size. Though a commoner, he was not a peasant; he owned the farm wholly, and during harvest he always hired help to reap and carry his goods to market.
He kept all that he needed to make through to the next harvest and gave a quarter of what was left to the nearby village to distribute to those who needed it most. The remainder of the harvest he took to Martherus, the second largest city in Aquis, to sell at market for a fair price. He used his cash to purchase whatever dry goods he needed and tithed most of what was left to Garod, the ruler of the western gods, and Hele the goddess of fertility and the harvest. Pel did this without fail every year, as he knew it would always pay him a dividend.
In his twenty eighth year, he happened upon a young lady while returning from the Martherus market. She was beautiful to his eye, though many others would consider her plain, and he chose to stop and speak with the man that accompanied her, her senior by twenty or more years. The man was her father, and after much friendly discussion, invited Pel to overnight at their home rather than on the road.
Their home was rather quaint, only two rooms, a main room for everyone to spend their time and a separate bedroom for the adults. The girl’s name was Erella, in honor of Aquis’ great queen, and she slept on the floor in the main room. Her father apologized greatly for their meager home, explaining they were mere servants to one of the local lords, and they worked his land and helped in the affairs of farming in exchange for a home, protection and whatever food they needed. Pel waved off such deprecations; it was a home after all, and if it kept you dry and warm, it served its purpose.
Over a fair dinner of stew, to which Pel added some of his own meat as payment for the hospitality, he spoke with Erella’s father at great length of all matters of agriculture. The man was quite affable, and after a short while, they felt like fast friends. As the women cleaned the table, Pel took a smoke with the man outdoors sharing from the same pipe. At this point, Pel admitted, somewhat forwardly, that he stopped to become friends only because he had immediately felt taken with Erella upon seeing her. He felt sheepish about this fact, but he had recently come to realize his mortality would come one day, and he was without wife or sons. Pel explained that he would like to make Erella his wife, and he would treat her well.
Unfortunately, it was not quite so simple; as Erella was actually a servant of a lord, Pel would need to pay a dowry to the lord. It was a rather typical business arrangement, and the lord would need payment for being deprived of an employee. Beyond that, Erella’s father gave his blessing, realizing that his daughter would then become the wife of a landowner, not the daughter of a peasant,
That evening, Erella’s father offered his bed to Pel, saying that he and his wife would sleep on the floor with Erella. Pel refused to have the man sleep on the floor of his own house, and assuring him that he had no dishonorable intentions, Pel said he would sleep on the floor of the main room. Perhaps, if she were inclined to conversation, he could learn more about the woman he hoped to make his wife. Erella was quiet at first, clearly shy towards a man whom she saw as her elder. Pel kept his word regarding his intentions, but he did explain to her what he hoped he could bring to pass. She somewhat shied away from this subject; though she did not express her fears, she knew there were other duties women were expected to fulfill to their husbands beyond cooking and cleaning. Several of the girls she had known as a small girl were already married, their bellies swelling with child.
In the morning, Pel took his leave of the family, embracing Erella’s father as a brother, and clasping Erella’s hand in what he hoped seemed a sincere fashion. He returned to stock his home with his purchases from the market, and while repairing his plow mulled over what he had learned of Erella. In the morning, he sent a message to Erella’s master asking what dowry would be deemed appropriate. Pel continued his farm work while he awaited an answer; winter was not far off, and he still had much to do to his home to prepare. Nearly three full weeks passed before he received an answer with a noble’s seal upon it. He placed the message on his table as he continued the work for the day, and it wasn’t until after he ate a small supper of bread, ham and cheese that he opened the scroll with no small amount of trepidation.
The noble’s writing, if in fact it was his own, was a flowing script, extremely superfluous against his own pragmatic writing. The letter rambled on about the need for a noble to have servants to work his land, and they received much in return. Also, being a woman of childbearing years, this was a great expense, as he could well be giving up future generations of workers. The letter finally named a price, and Pel sat quietly sipping mead for several hours simply thinking it over. The letter laid out a formula based on pounds of meat, grain or money, or some combination thereof, and Pel calculated realizing that the noble was expecting roughly two fifths of his annual harvest. It was a high price, but he simply did not see another option; the noble had no need to negotiate. Besides, negotiation, especially in this matter, was repugnant to Pel.
He spent the next year working harder than he had before, and he had much for which to plan. Besides losing almost half of his harvest to the dowry, he also needed to keep more harvest and money for himself and his new wife. He quickly came to the realization he could only possibly increase his harvest by a tenth, which would not leave him able to provide as much charity as usual.
This troubled Pel; he had always made sure the local village received food from him for those in need, and he certainly could not do this and tithe. He chose to take a day of rest and went into the village to meet with Garod’s priest there; Jonn was a long time friend of Pel and his parents. The priest soothed Pel on this matter, explaining that he had always been a good man, respected by the community. Also, the gods knew Pel’s piety and would understand one lapse, especially since the joys of wife and husband were rights to all, denied neither by men or gods. This lent Pel strength, knowing that all would understand if he did not give his usual, and he worked hard that year during the growing season. Rewarded with a bumper harvest, he gave half of his usual charity and tithe, which was substantially more than he had originally expected.
Pel left the market that year, heading directly for Erella’s home. He told her family that come tomorrow, she would be free and married to him, if she so desired it. He promised to be a good husband and that he would honor her; he knew she did not love him, but hoped that one day she may learn to. Pel slept the night there as he did the year before, and in the morning, Erella agreed to be his wife. She would respect him as husband, whether love came or not.
She left her home with him, and together they traveled to the noble’s estate inside the city, and as per the agreement, Pel brought a great burlap sack of money that totaled exactly to the noble’s requested dowry. The man tried several times to not honor the payment, first saying that he made no such agreement. Pel produced the noble’s own scroll, leading the man to claim the price had g
one up since last year. In one of the few times of his life, Pel’s temper flared, and he slammed his fist on the noble’s heavy desk, saying that he was no peasant and could not be dealt with in such a way. He would show the letter to a magistrate and ask him if the agreement was binding and equitable. The noble called for his exchequer, who after three countings agreed the payment was complete. The noble then handed one tenth of the silver back, asking that Pel forget the earlier unpleasantness.
Pel thanked him and left with his new fiancée, promising Erella that no man would ever pay anything for her again while she lived. They traveled back to Pel’s home, and on the morrow, reached the village near his homestead. He paid the savings on the dowry to his friend Jonn in exchange for a marriage service. The marriage took place in the center of town, just outside Garod’s temple, and the entire town witnessed Pel and Erella’s wedding.
Over the ensuing days, Erella came to know her husband simply by watching him go about his duties. Again, the harvest was over, and Pel set about preparing the home for winter, and on several occasions, she asked him what she could do to help him. He simply shrugged; having never had help before, he didn’t know what to do with it. She took on the duties she would normally do with her family, allowing Pel more time to do other things, or sometimes nothing at all. He had never imposed his will on her, nor tried to force her into other things.
Winter came as winter does, and the home became colder, despite a constantly burning fire. There were less daylight hours, of course, and with a frozen ground there was less to be done about the farm. Erella had come to sleep with Pel, as she knew wives did, but only for warmth at first. A month into the winter, she realized her thoughts of him had changed; he made her feel safe, and she realized that working with him about the house and land, she was working for their life, not the life of a noble in a city. Before the winter broke, Erella was with child.
Erella had heard awful stories about pregnancy and childbirth, and it frightened her. She finally told Pel just as spring arrived and more work was being needed daily. At this, Pel refused to allow her to do any of the chores; he had never needed help in the past, and he could handle the load now, especially since she could scarcely eat without vomiting. While the inevitable sickness passed, her ability to help did not increase, nor would Pel have accepted help even if she were able. He knew he could provide for them both, and he also knew exertion could cause problems with pregnant women. There was no need to risk anything, and he had Jonn come from the village to bless them. A lifelong friend to Pel’s family, the priest embraced him and cried with happiness.
It seemed to Pel that harvest approached more quickly than usual, and he hired hands when the summer broke. Erella was well swelled at this point, and he would not allow her to do any work at all outside of cooking. In fact, he preferred that she stay indoors as much as possible, especially once he hired help. He didn’t like the way the young men looked at this wife; it was perhaps the first time jealousy had ever touched him, and he wondered at this feeling.
It was about a month before harvest, and over the last several weeks, Erella had felt occasional pains. The midwives had already explained to her that this would sometimes happen, and she shouldn’t worry unless they became regular and fast for a period of time or if her water broke. On one particular brisk morning, the pains came again, but refused to be soothed. She waited several hours, resting as the midwives told her, before telling Pel when he took his midday meal. Pel immediately sent one of his hired hands to the village to fetch the midwives and Jonn. The midwives arrived some time later, but the priest was conducting a funeral ceremony and would come as soon as it was concluded. Pel would not leave his wife’s side despite her urgings that there was nothing he could do to help.
As first births tend to be, it was a long labor, lasting until shortly after midnight. Erella showed herself to be a fine, strong woman, and she finally birthed a howling baby boy. He was well made and healthy; Pel and Erella fawned over him as the midwives worked to set Erella to heal.
“He will be a fine son,” proclaimed Jonn, blessing him. “If you have decided on his name, I will perform the Naming now.”
“His name is Cor,” decided Erella, naming the baby after her father, as it was common practice in the Shining West for wives to name the sons and fathers the daughters.
The priest proceeded with the ritual, declaring the baby’s name Cor Pelson before Garod and the other gods of light. After, Jonn took his leave with one of the midwives, and the remaining midwife and Erella stayed in the bedroom, the midwife allowing her to sleep as much as possible. Pel sat heavily in a chair and slept with his head on his hands at the table.