Empress & Soldier Ch 10 part 1
In which Eudekia meets her grandmother.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 part I
Chapter 6 part 2
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 part 1
Chapter 8 part 2
Chapter 9 part 1
Chapter 9 part 2
THE JOURNEY, ALMOST three days overland, with stays at inns of the highest quality, was both familiar and tedious. Beyond the city, the flat riverside lands were divided into neat fields: vegetables and fruit while we were still close to Casil; grains and grazing as the distance grew. How much, I wondered, did Philitos need to learn about agriculture—and who taught him that? There was a series of long poems about farming; they were very old. I had read only part of one, about beekeeping. Would they be enough?
The grain fields shone golden in the sun, and men and women swung scythes and bundled sheaves. On the streams that ran down off the hills to join the river, watermills were already turning to grind grain to flour. Vineyards appeared on the southern slopes of the hills. All this fed Casil, but it was far from enough. All around the Nivéan Sea, crops were being harvested, to be loaded onto carts and ships and brought to the city. I’d known this, but I’d never really understood the immensity of the undertaking. Being patrona had changed my outlook.
On the third day we left the river and turned south, reaching the sea in mid-afternoon. My grandmother’s villa stood on one of hundreds of islands that lay along this coast, an hour’s voyage by the rowed galley that awaited us. A messenger had been sent ahead, of course, to alert the inns and my grandmother.
I stretched, easing the aches from my muscles. The carriage was not exactly comfortable, even with cushions to pad the seats and support our backs. Standing on the quay as our chests and bags were loaded was a relief. Nishan had paid the two horse archers who had guarded us, and was overseeing the transfer of the baggage and giving the carriage driver instructions at the same time. “Back here, same time tomorrow.”
Unlike other years, when Nishan and Mahir came as well, only Matea and I were staying. I was here as an adult, not a girl whose lessons need continue. Perhaps my grandmother truly was growing old, and my visit was necessary. Another disconcerting realization.
But the woman who greeted us after a smooth crossing didn’t seem older. Perhaps her hair held more silver; perhaps there were more lines on her face, but she was as elegant as I remembered. “My dear!” she murmured, offering her cheek to be kissed. “How lovely to see you.”
“And I you, Avia,” I said. She smelled of some spicy perfume, not the lavender I used. We walked up the steps from the quay to where her carriage waited. Nishan and Matea and the baggage would follow in a cart, my grandmother said with a wave of her hand, before she tucked the letter Nishan had given her into the purse on her belt. It was from my father, I knew. Why had he entrusted it to Nishan, and not to me?
Long habit, I decided, and put it out of my mind. Renatus, her steward, handed her up into the carriage, and then me. Perfectly correctly, and the smile my grandmother gave him was nothing more than polite. If she’d been accused of improper behaviour, there was no trace of it today.
My room at the villa held fresh flowers, their fragrance filling the space. While Matea unpacked, I tidied my hair and washed the salt spray off my hands and arms and face. Then I changed into a new tunic, chose a shawl, and went to join my grandmother on the west-facing terrace. She liked this spot, for its warmth in the afternoons, and as a place to watch the sun sink over the sea in the evenings. A vine grew overhead, supported on a wide arch, shading the flagstones without blocking the view. Sometimes, when it was just family, we ate out here too.
She put aside my father’s letter as I came out onto the terrace. “How lovely you look, Eudekia. So much like your mother.”
“Do I?” My father had never told me that. He rarely spoke of my mother, dead in childbirth when I was not yet two, the baby with her. My sister.
“You have her hair, and her height. Sit down, child. Although—” She tilted her head, looking up at me. “I suppose I should not call you that any longer.”
I accepted a cup of sweet wine and sat in the chair she indicated. “How is Varos?” she asked. “Do I trust his assurance that he is well again?”
“He is,” I said. “He swears he will eat only fish and vegetables at the palace from now on. I doubt Philitos will care.”
“Philitos?”
“The prince.”
“I know who he is. Are you and he so familiar you call him by name?”
“No!” I protested. “But my father does, sometimes, and so I think of him that way.” I had never addressed the prince by anything but his title. Except in my mind.
She smiled a little at that. “I will of course be entertaining while you are here. You will use the correct forms of address, I trust?”
“Of course,” I said, blushing, and feeling like the child she’d called me. We drank wine, and she spoke of her neighbours, and the dinners and entertainments those who lived her year-round amused themselves with. When the sun began to dazzle us in its descent, she stood.
“Dinner in two hours. The baths are heating; use them if you wish, or swim. We’ll eat here, as it is just us.”
I hadn’t swum since the last time we had visited. The public baths had pools for swimming, but as none of my friends knew how, we stayed in the hot pool when I went with them. I’d learned here, my father insisting. “Boats can sink,” he’d said. “It is only prudent you learn.”
He’d taught me himself, one of the rare memories that didn’t involve books or writing. I’d learned to ride here too, but not from him. Perhaps tomorrow, I thought, as I changed, I can take one of the horses out. There’d be a stable boy to accompany me.
The pool was just warm enough. I swam its length several times, then pulled myself up to sit on its edge. I looked out over the sea, at the boats and the other islands. Below me, grape terraces patterned the hillside. Workers moved between the rows, baskets suspended at their sides, harvesting.
I lay back on the warm stone. The sky was cloudless, a deep blue. Would Philitos like it here? The prince, I reminded myself. Thinking of him made me smile. I had time to write to him before dinner, if I didn’t linger.
~~~
I didn’t finish the letter; I wanted to describe watching the sun sink behind the hills, the dusk calls of birds and the first bats against the darkening sky. All the things that were so different from the city, and made me love it here. Now I’d arrived, I was glad I’d come, although it was clear my grandmother was perfectly well. At dinner Renatus served us and then withdrew, leaving us to the meal. We ate freshly-caught fish, and a salad, and tiny tarts tasting of lemon and mint. And, of course, grapes. I entertained my grandmother with stories about Ennaia and Kaeso’s wedding, making her laugh when I described just how drunk Kaeso had been by the end of the evening.
“He’d not have done much in their bed but sleep,” she commented.
“No,” I agreed. Regardless of the fact they’d been lovers for months, Ennaia had still been upset. It was a bad omen for the marriage, supposedly.
My grandmother glanced my way. “Are you a virgin, child?”
“I’m not interested in marriage,” I said.
“I said nothing about marriage. No lovers, men or women?”
I shook my head, not looking at her. “No.”
She made a humming sound. “Just like your father. He was far more interested in his dead philosophers. Do not waste your youth, Eudekia.” Leaning forward, she rang the small bell that sat on the table before us. Renatus appeared immediately.
“A warmer shawl,” she instructed him. “The breeze is cooler than I expected.”
He returned quickly, to tuck the heavier shawl around her shoulders. She touched his hand in thanks, smiling. I waited until he withdrew.
“Are lovers only for the young, Avia?” I asked. Would she take offense?
Her laugh was loud, and genuine. “Oh, child,” she said. “Certainly not.”
~~~
I finished the letter to Philitos before bed. In the morning, at breakfast—served on the east-facing terrace after the sun had risen over the hilltops—I gave it to Renatus to send. He glanced at the address, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face. My grandmother saw it too.
“To whom do you write?” she asked.
“The prince.” Her lips pursed, just a little, but she made no comment.
“Did you still want to ride today?” she asked a moment later. Only wisps of clouds marred the blue of the sky, and the air had the clarity it always had on the island. A perfect day to be on horseback. I told her yes.
“This morning, then,” she said. “I have friends coming later, and I would like you to be here.”
~~~
An hour later I reined the mare to a stop at the summit of a hill. Below me, islands spread out like pieces on a game board—or like gamepieces spilled from a bag: there was no pattern to their placement. Gulls followed the little fishing boats, and the arc of dolphins alongside made me smile. They brought the fisherman luck, it was said.
“Look,” the stableboy who escorted me said, pointing. South beyond the islands, a line of larger vessels sailed east. “Warships.”
A start of fear ran through me. “Is there war?”
My escort shook his head. “No, my lady. Just troops going to a posting. To Qipërta, perhaps.”
Of course. I watched the ships for a minute, their sails taut with the strong offshore wind. There’d be new recruits on board, younger than I. What would it be like, going far away from home and family? If Philitos was not who he was, he might have been among them, a junior officer.
It was time to go back, to prepare for my grandmother’s guests. Smelling of horse and sweat would not be acceptable, even here where life was a little more relaxed.
~~~
Matea was dressing my hair when my grandmother entered my room. In her hands was a glass bird, elongated and fragile. “It is time you wore an adult perfume,” she said. She put the bird down on the table. I reached for it; I’d seen perfume flasks like this in her room, when, as a child, I’d watched her dress for dinner.
“Careful,” she warned, as I tipped the bird to snap off the very end of the tail, indented to make this easy. Matea took the piece from me. I touched a finger to the opening, tipped the bird again. Raising my hand, I sniffed. Floral, but not sweet.
“Thank you, Avia.” I touched my finger to my neck. Handing Matea the flask, I stood, ready for company. A small gathering, my grandmother had said, a few people for food and talk. It was a rare day she did not meet her friends, either as host or guest. But other years, my father had always been present.
It is time we began to think of your future, he had said, not long ago. And as I was motherless, suitable introductions would fall to my grandmother. Is that why I was here?
I couldn’t ask now, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I’d already said I wasn’t interested in marriage. But had my daring question of my grandmother last night made her think I was ready for a lover? Which of course I should be, at my age. A disturbing thought, one that tightened my throat and gut.
“Don’t be nervous, child. Two of my guests today are new to the island, but one you have met before.”
That didn’t reassure me. But the years of being the patrona had given me confidence. I smiled at her, and walked, a step behind as befitted a granddaughter, into her sitting room.
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I'm enjoying the domestic details in this section of the story.
I'm glad you are. I enjoyed writing this; it's rare I have such a settled setting, although domesticity does play a larger role in the later books.