Darkness Descending

“Don’t you, Uncle Hengist?” Ealstan spoke before Hestan could.

Now Hengist shrugged. “If we couldn’t beat the redheads, what difference does it make? Things won’t be too bad, I don’t expect. It’s not like we were Kauni-ans, or anything like that.”

“Remember what the Algarvians are letting your son learn,” Hestan answered. “Remember what they aren’t. You’re right, they save the worst for the Kaunians--but they do not wish us well.”

“They ruled here when we were boys--have you forgotten?” Hengist said. “If they hadn’t lost the Six Years’ War, if the Unkerlanters hadn’t fought among themselves, we wouldn’t have gotten a king of our own back. The redheads treated Forthwegians better than the Unkerlanters did farther west, that’s certain.”

“But we shouldbt free,” Ealstan exclaimed. “Forthweg is a great kingdom. We were a great kingdom when the Algarvians and the Unkerlanters were nothing to speak of. They had no business carving us up like a roast goose, either a hundred years ago or now.”

“Boy has spirit,” Hengist remarked to Hestan. He turned back to Ealstan. “If you want to get right down to it, we aren’t carved up any more. King Mezentio’s men hold all of Forthweg these days.”

Ealstan didn’t want to get right down to it, not like that. Without waiting to hear when he should use simple interest and when compound, he left the parlor. Behind him, Hestan said, “In the old days, a Forthwegian or even a blond Kaun-ian could get ahead in Algarve--not as easily as a redhead, but an able man could make do. I don’t see that happening now.”

“Well, I don’t want a Kaunian getting ahead of me--unless she’s a pretty girl in tight trousers.” Uncle Hengist laughed.

That’s where Sidroc comes by it, all right, Ealstan thought. Instead of going back to his room, he went into the kitchen, intending to hook a plum. He hesitated when he discovered his older sister Conberge in there kneading dough. Since hard times and the Algarvians came to Gromheort, his sister and even his mother had grown stern about making food disappear like that.

But Conberge looked up from her work and smiled at him. Thus encouraged, he sidled up. Her smile didn’t disappear when he reached toward the bowl of fruit. She didn’t swat him with a floury hand. He took a plum and bit into it. It was very sweet. Juice dribbled down his chin, through the sparse hairs of his sprouting beard.

“What have you got there?” his sister asked, pointing not to the plum but to the paper in his other hand.

“Bookkeeping problems Father set me,” Ealstan answered. With a little effort, he managed a smile. “I’m not wild about doing them, but at least he doesn’t switch me when I make mistakes, the way a master would at school.”

“Let me see,” Conberge said, and Ealstan handed her the sheet. She looked it over, nodded, and gave it back. “You used simple interest once when you should have compounded.

“Aye, so Father told--” Ealstan stopped and stared. “I didn’t know you could cast accounts.” He couldn’t tell whether he sounded indignant or astonished--both at once, probably. “They don’t teach you that in the girls’ academy.”

Conberge’s smile turned sour. “No, they don’t. Maybe they should, but they don’t. Father did, though. He said you never could tell, and I might have to be able to earn my own way one day. This was before the war started, mind you.”

“Oh.” Ealstan glanced back toward the parlor. His father and Uncle Hengist were still going back and forth, back and forth, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Father sees a long way ahead.”

His sister nodded. “It was a lot harder than writing bad poetry, which is what my schoolmistresses set me to doing, though they didn’t know it was bad. But I think better because of ii, do you know what I mean? Maybe you don’t, because they will teach boys some worthwhile things.”

“They would--till the Algarvians got their hands on the school,” Ealstan said bitterly. But he shook his head. He didn’t want to distract himself. “I didn’t know Father had taught you anything like that, though.”

“And up until not very long ago, I wouldn’t have told you, either.” Conberge’s grimace made Ealstan see the world in a way he hadn’t before. She said, “Men don’t usually want women to know too much or be too bright--or to show they know a lot or they’re bright, anyhow. If you ask me, it’s because most men don’t know that much and aren’t that bright themselves.”

“Don’t look at me like that when you say such things,” Ealstan said, which made his sister laugh. He grabbed another plum.