Feudal Obligations

If there was anything that Kata had learned in her fifty-odd years of living, it was that it was never good when one’s lord requested a special meeting.

If there was anything else that Kata could add to that, it was that if one’s lord requested a special meeting, it was best not to keep him waiting. So even though she was almost dead on her feet, she’d waited only long enough to clean herself up before setting out on the trek to Sir Lancelot’s keep.

At least she had something good to show for her exhaustion. Barely six hours ago, Ailís Porter had been safely delivered of a healthy, bouncing baby boy. Both mother and father were joyful, the grandparents were ecstatic, and little Jake’s sisters … would get used to the new arrival eventually.

Everyone was so happy, in fact, that Kata had taken advantage of the obligatory coo-at-the-baby time to park herself down at the end of Ailís’s bed and have a bit of a chat. “Ye’re lucky, ye know,” she’d said. “It’s three beautiful, healthy children ye’ve got. An’ right close in age, too, so they’ll be good playmates fer each other.”

“That’s always nice, ain’t it?” Ailís, normally so sharp, was still coasting off the high that came from having a brand-new baby. It’d be a few hours yet before her body’s startled reaction to having just forcibly ejected a baby kicked in. For now, she was leaning back on her pillows, her feet moving in time with some tune she could only hear in her head.

“Aye, ’tis. Except when it isn’t.” That made Ailís blink and focus her dreaming attention on Kata. “Josie ain’t much more than a year old, ye know. Ye’re lucky ye were able to carry this one so easily. But now that ye’ve got a son, ye should … strongly consider takin’ a bit of a rest. Or that is, ye should tell yer husband that ye need a rest — I’ll do it if ye don’t feel comfortable.”

In the course of Kata’s profession, one quickly learned how to diagnose the health of a marriage. There were some women, she knew, who were trapped with husbands who would not even consider giving their wives a much-needed rest. They’d want a spare on the way as soon as their wives were up and walking around again. Kata had thought Neil wasn’t that type, but now, with the time (or lack thereof) between Josie and Jake’s births … well, she’d been wrong before, and Wright willing, she’d live to be wrong again.

“Oh, we were plannin’ on takin’ a break anyway — well — as much as ye can plan,” Ailís waved her hand as one who was hearing old news would.

“So long as the baby was a boy, ye mean?”

“No, no, either way.”

Kata let her raised eyebrow do much of the talking. “Really? I mean, with Josie an’ Jake bein’ so close …”

Ailís’s pretty freckled skin flushed. “Oh! Oh, well, Jake weren’t really … er … well, he weren’t tried for, if ye know what I mean. It’s jest … Josie was an awful good sleeper right from the get-go …”

That told Kata all she needed to know about that.

She was still smiling a bit as she crossed the bridge and then reached the stairs leading up to the keep’s main entrance. Wright, but I’m getting too old for this.

With a sigh, though, Kata trudged on. And a small smile poked at the corner of her lips. As hard as these stairs were on her aching knees and hips, she could rest assured that they’d been just as hard on old Lord Ban’s knees, and would someday be just as hard on Sir Lancelot’s, and Sir William’s, and whatever heir of Sir William’s that she (Wright willing) brought wailing into the world. This was a hard world, often a cruel one, and almost always unfair, but some things, at least, were constant between peasant and peer.

However, it did make Kata wonder what it was that Lord Ban and Sir Lancelot had been thinking when they designed these steps, knowing full well they’d be sentencing themselves and their progeny to walk up and down their punishing length. Perhaps it was some nonsense about defense. Kata personally didn’t understand why it was that all these nobles were so concerned about walls and towers and siege engines and what-not. She’d travelled all over the length and breadth of Albion, delivering little ones, and she had yet to see something in it that would make a foreign power want to conquer it. Oh, Albion was a pleasant enough place, there was no doubt about it, but Glasonland must have already had about six Albions nestled within its borders. What need did it have for a seventh?

As for Reme — well, Reme had conquered far less pleasant places for the sheer hell of it. But Reme was on its way out and everyone knew it. They’d abandoned another couple of forts by the border. The chances of their coming back were remote. So what was all the fuss about?

Kata was still wondering this as she knocked on the great wooden doorway, and her mind was distracted enough that she was startled when she heard Sir Lancelot call, “Widow Thatcher! My goodness, I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Please, have a seat.”

Kata blinked. “Right — right here, m’lord?” She glanced sidelong at the benches. They were made of finer wood than had ever supported her rear. Sit-down times after she’d cared for noble mothers excepted, of course.

“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Sir Lancelot said with his puppy grin plastered over his face. “I can have some cushions brought in, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, m’lord, this is fine.” Kata thought of the sheets she had sat on, the dirt floors, the straw pallets. Whatever she might have picked up on her skirt, she didn’t want it ending up on Sir Lancelot’s (or Lady Guinevere’s, rather) cushions.

So Kata sat, brushing off her knees and waiting for Sir Lancelot to take the other bench, or even her own.

He did neither. Instead, he stood directly before her, still smiling.

Kata blinked. In her fifty-odd years of experience, this was not how the world worked. In the world in which she had grown up, peasants stood and nobles sat. Maybe, every now and again, they both sat together. But for Sir Lancelot to stand before her … like an inferior

It was practically unheard of.

“I’m very glad that you were able to get here so quick …” He trailed off, his head turning a little to one side.

“My — m’lord?”

“I’m sorry — this is probably impertinent — but, Widow Thatcher, you look very tired. Are you all right?”

“Er, well … I’m fine, m’lord.”

He narrowed his eyes a little.

“Well, I am tired, I’ll admit it. Jest got back from a delivery, m’lord.”

Sir Lancelot’s eyes went wide. “Just — just got back? As in …”

“As in …?”

“You went home and came straight here?”

“My Ella did say ye wanted ter see me at me earliest con-veen-yence, m’lord … did she speak out of turn?”

“Well, no, but — but I meant at your earliest convenience!” the lord sputtered. “I didn’t — well — I didn’t want you to put yourself out like this!”

“Ye … ye didn’t?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh,” Kata murmured.

“What is it?”

“Well,” she admitted, “I thought — that is, I was always told — that ‘at yer earliest con-veen-yence’ were polite, sir, fer ‘pretty da–pretty quick.'”

Sir Lancelot stared at her, then burst out laughing. “I suppose it usually does mean that! However, I truly did wish you to come as soon as — er — as soon as you had the time and energy to do so.” He grinned, his face crinkling up like a boy’s. “Tell you what, madam — we shall make a deal, you and I. When I need you to come right away, I shall say so — or better yet, I shall come to you. When, however, I would like to see you soon, but without putting you out unduly, I shall ask you to come ‘at your earliest convenience.’ Does that suit you better?”

“Yes, m’lord.” Not for the first time, Kata wished she hadn’t just let Jeremiah take charge of all matters that had to do with lords. She would have been so much better prepared.

“Anyway, now, are you not curious about what I called you here to discuss?” Sir Lancelot asked — but his smile quickly fell away. “I … er, I fear that the news may not be … entirely welcome to you.”

“Oh?” Kata’s voice quavered.

“Er, well, to begin at the beginning,” Sir Lancelot began, pulling at his collar with one finger, “you are aware that my eldest, Will — Sir William — is to be married to Princess Jessica soon after their mutual graduation?”

There wasn’t a soul in the kingdom who didn’t know that. Well, maybe little Jake Porter hadn’t heard the news yet. Other than that, though …

Kata, however, only smiled and said, “Yes, m’lord, I knew that.” She’d seen Sir William and Princess Jessica out and about, too, before the two of them had left for Camford. Unless things had changed drastically in the past four years, she was expecting a fair bit of business from those two. Not as much as from the Crown Prince and his lovely bride, but a fair bit all the same.

“Ah. Good, good. Well, part of the marriage settlement includes a sizeable tract of land along the northern coast. You’ve heard of the building project I have going on it, have you not?”

“Aye …”

“Originally, I was going to have Sir William and Princess Jessica live there — to, er, accustom Sir William to being a lord, and to … well, to let them have their privacy in the early days of their marriage.” Poor Sir Lancelot’s ears were turning bright red. Did it truly embarrass him to think of his son doing what boys do? “But, er, political … matters have made it necessary for the King and me to decide that I should cede my lands here, be granted a somewhat — larger — tract of land to the north, and to, er, move.”

Kata felt her stomach sink as the implications set in.

“An’ — an’ us, m’lord? Me an’ me family?”

“It would — er — that is — I was hoping you would move too.”

That was a polite way of putting it. Kata heard herself murmur, “Of course, sir,” as she slumped against the seat.

“If you do not wish to move until after your daughter — Roma? — is married and settled, I understand. Believe me, I understand. You’re more than welcome to stay until then.” Sir Lancelot smiled, then frowned. “Er — I did offer you my congratulations on Roma’s marriage, didn’t I?”

“Aye, m’lord, ye did.” He had when Kata and Roma had first come to seek his permission for it. Sir Lancelot had treated them both to a cup of heady, bubbly wine in celebration, and he had called to Lady Guinevere, who surprised them both with a hearty embrace.

“Well, congratulations again! One can’t hear enough of them, I’ve found.”

It was impossible not to smile in reply to a grin as infectious as that. Kata felt her lips turn upward before dropping down just as quickly.

“And — and I intend to make the move as easy on you as possible,” Sir Lancelot babbled on. “I understand it’s just you, your girls and your young son, so I shall be sending some strong young men to help you out with the packing and so forth. And loading, and unloading, and unpacking. And you shan’t have to pay for a thing, either. As far as moving is concerned, that is. I take the expense upon myself.”

“Oh, m’lord, ye don’t have to …”

“Yes, yes, I do,” Sir Lancelot nodded. “It is because of me that you are moving, therefore, you should not have to shoulder the costs of it. I will insist upon this, Widow Thatcher.”

“That’s very kind o’ ye, m’lord,” Kata heard herself murmur.

Sir Lancelot bit his lower lip. “I — I know it is very hard, leaving your home, the place where you raised your children — and — and I am aware this is the second time that I, or rather my family, is asking you to do this.”

Kata shook her head. “We volunteered, Jeremiah an’ I did.”

“Er — well, true, you did. However! I still know how hard it is.” He glanced around the hall, and for a moment Kata almost thought she heard the boistrous laughter of noble children, the pounding of well-soled boots or fine slippers along the stonework. “Believe me, I do understand that.

“But! This place I am fixing up for you, I will see to it personally that it is very nice! Far nicer than your current home! … Not that your current home isn’t very nice too, it just, er …”

“M’lord,” Kata murmured, “I don’t doubt that ye’ll do right by us. Ye always have.” One corner of Kata’s mouth poked up. “It’s one thing ye an’ yer family have always been good with.”

“Then, Widow Thatcher, why do you still look so sad?”

Kata blinked up at him.

“Widow Thatcher?”

“M’lord, d’ye — d’ye mind if I’m honest?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m an old woman,” Kata replied. “An old woman, an’ a widow. An’ I don’t know how much time I’ve got left in this world.”

“I pray a very great deal!”

“Thank’ee, m’lord, fer sayin’ that, but … prayin’ an’ hopin’ ain’t being certain. Ye know?”

“Indeed.”

“An’ I’ve got three young kids. Now, mind, Roma’s almost grown. An’ as soon as she’s grown, she’ll be married.” Kata frowned. “There’s a reason, sir, why I wanted her married so soon.”

Sir Lancelot tilted his head a little to one side, nodding.

“I want ter make sure that, if somethin’ happens ter me, there’s someone ter take care o’ me kids.”

Sir Lancelot blinked.

“An’, see, Simon Chevaux — the man she’ll be marryin’, one o’ Sir Bors’s men — kindly said that he’d be willin’ ter step in an’ take care o’ me kids, if it … if it comes ter that. Me stepson, Ash, an’ his wife, they said they’d help, too.”

“I see.”

“But if we’re up north … well, it won’t be easy ter to do that.”

“It’s barely an hours’ ride, though!”

“But, y’see, m’lord, that’s jest it. Ride.”

“… Oh.”

“An’ then there’s the matter o’ me business.”

“Midwifery,” Sir Lancelot. “Oh — oh, I see.” He frowned. “If — if I were to set aside one of the faster horses in my stables for you to use, would that help?”

Kata blinked. She was a good horsewoman, she was, but she hadn’t been expecting that kind of generosity. “Well, m’lord, if ye’d — if ye’d be willin’ ter do that …”

“I would indeed! The work you do is far too important for me to impede it!”

Kata thought about that. Labor generally took a long time. And most older women, who naturally were around to help out at a birth, could keep a handle on things for two hours. If someone was having a difficult pregnancy, Kata could stay with her as her time drew nearer. Ella was old enough to watch Billy for a few days or even a week. And Marigold and her girls were up north — they (or rather Marigold) could certainly check in from time to time, make sure that Billy hadn’t burned the house down and Ella wasn’t serving up sweets for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The neighbors might complain, but rather that than leave her kids without any supervision for days and days.

Her kids …

“M’lord,” Kata said, rising, for she was tired of Sir Lancelot towering over her so, “that still don’t answer the question o’ what me kids will do, if somethin’ were to happen ter me.”

“Would Simon or your stepson not still be willing to take them?”

Kata blinked. “Ye’d — ye’d allow that? Bein’ so far from yer lands an’ all?”

Sir Lancelot opened his mouth and shut it again. “Oh. That … would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“I think it would, m’lord.”

His tongue made an awkward swipe across his lower lips. “Widow Thatcher, as long as your son returned to me when he reached adulthood, I would — that is, if it was what you desired — I would be willing to to allow him to go wherever you wished him to, if — Wright forbid — the worst should happen to you.”

“Ye — ye would, sir?”

“You are his mother,” Sir Lancelot shrugged. “I imagine you would know where your son — and daughter, of course — would be best cared for, far better than I would.”

There wasn’t a lord in Glasonland who would have said that, Kata thought — at least, not if it involved children being removed from their lands. She had to swallow to push the lump in her throat back where it belonged. “Thank’ee, m’lord!”

“Oh, Widow Thatcher, it’s no trouble!” he smiled and patted her shoulder. “It’s only my duty!”

Kata tried to smile back while blinking the water out of her eyes.

“Although …”

The water dried of its own accord.

“If — if you would desire — I could act as your children’s guardian. I mean, I hope it would not come to that, of course, but –”

“What?” she gasped.

“I could be the children’s guardian,” Sir Lancelot repeated. “That way, they could stay in their home, and I could care for their property and such, and I could either have someone — someone you would interview and choose, of course — stay with them and care for them, or stop in from time to time if you think they are old enough to live mostly on their own. How does that sound?”

“Ye’d — ye’d do that, m’lord?”

“Of course!”

Kata took a deep breath, and to hide it, she stuck her hand out. “I think — I think, m’lord, if ye’ d be willin’ ter do all that, movin’ won’t be nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be at first.”

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Feudal Obligations

  1. Lance is such a sweetheart! It’s probably a good thing that he’s in Albion and not in Glasonland. He’d get eaten alive there! And I’d certainly trust Lance before I’d trust Simon. I mean let’s face it, Simon’s a thief and a cheat and a sneak and well all sorts of other “and”s. And Lance is not.

    It is hard to believe that Bors and Lance have shared blood. I mean Bors would have gotten on Kata’s case for how long it took her and not even cared that she was being uprooted from her home. And if he “volunteered” to look out for her kids it’d just be so he could squeeze every penny he could from them. 😛

    I liked the fact that Lance listened to Kata too. Even, to some degree, Pellinore doesn’t quite listen to his peasants.

    Over all, it sounds good. Even though Lance is not the brightest lucifer in the box, he at least makes up for his lack of wits with being goodhearted and sweet, rather than Bors who makes up for his lack of brains by taking out his ire on anyone who is smarter than he is. 😛

    • Aww, thanks Andavri. 🙂 I’m almost a little surprised at how nice Lancelot has turned out to be. Then again, this is a guy who climbed a tree (when he’s not a good climber) to get a lady’s falcon, just ’cause she asked nicely, and almost got killed by her husband for his pains, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

      Lance must have gotten all the genes from the du Lac-de Ganis gene pool. *shrugs* And besides, Bors is … an idiot. He has, as has been mentioned numerous times, very specific ideas of how the world is supposed to work. Very few of those ideas take into account the people in said world.

      I’m glad you picked up on the differences between Pellinore and Lance. They’re both good lords, I think, but in very different ways. Pellinore has a much firmer grasp of the proprieties/social realities of the situation. He’s much more detached from his serfs as people. He wishes them health and happiness and all that (because there’s no reason why not, and besides, the better they do, the better he does) but they are the Serfs and he is the Lord. (Well, not the Lord, but you know what I mean.) Whereas Lance kind of sees them all as just being people, and since they’re going to have to deal with each other there’s no reason why they can’t be friends. He is a Popularity Sim, after all.

      And another difference between Lance & Bors: Lance knows that he’s not the brightest lucifer in the box, and he knows when he’s in over his head and when he has to ask for help. Bors … doesn’t. And that just gets him into trouble.

  2. I hope this doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen to Kata any time soon 😯

    It’s good that the preparations are in order, though, just in case. How well does Kata actually know Simon? Not well enough to mistrust him, apparently, but at least that’s kind of a moot point now in regards to Ella and Billy?

    • I might as well say that Kata is not going anywhere until she has an apprentice to take over some of her midwifery duties! Or until I get another midwife into Albion, which might be sooner rather than later, depending on how things in Glasonland go down.

      Kata knows that Simon is personable and charming and her daughter is over the moon about him. She knows that he seems to have a pretty good income, being a miller’s apprentice and all. She also knows that Cerise is a regular old battleaxe and will doubtless be checking in on Simon often, especially if Ella and Billy come to live with Roma and Simon.

      However, like you said, it is a bit of a moot point now for Ella and Billy. 🙂 They’ll be well taken care of now, no matter what happens.

  3. Good on Lance, for… Well, for some combination of taking care of his own serfs, being decent to widows and children, comprehending just how important the only midwife in town is (Dear Kata, Hire an apprentice. Love, any Albionese girl who might expect to be expecting once you’ve shuffled off your mortal coil), and trying not to stack unwarranted hardship on his own vassals just because the king wants his best knight a little closer to the border.

    He also looks way better in that getup than any of the models on MTS did. For the record.

    • I have an apprentice planned, I promise! She just has to grow up a bit first. She’ll be moving into Kata’s house and learning all the tricks of the trade the minute she turns twelve, I promise.

      Plus, like I mentioned to Van, there might be a midwife coming in from Glasonland. Might.

      But Lance is a good lord and a decent guy. 🙂 I’m glad you liked his outfit! I was so glad to find something for Lance that wasn’t armor, even if I had to … tweak it a bit myself. 😉

  4. At first I didn’t even really recognize Lancelot. 😛 I just love that man! He is very different from what you’d expect a nobleman from that timeperiod would be like (you know, kinda like Bors perhaps). I like the fact, that he actually cares about people, not matter what their status is (but maybe especially the people that are indentured to him). But it would make sense to keep the kids on his lands, should the worst happen to Kata. I mean, if they’re old enough, they can still work etc. But I hope, she’ll be around long enough to not having to worry about that. I’m excited to see their new place, since Lancelot said it would be a bit nicer. 😀

    • LOL! I needed to get Lance out of that chain-mail getup (because really, who in their right mind wears chain mail when they’re just lounging around the house?), and if one of the side effects was unrecognizability, oh well!

      Lance is in a category unto himself. 🙂 I doubt there were very many actual medieval noblemen like him, but then again, I don’t think there were actual vampires or plant-people or fae in the Middle Ages either, so, on the scale of unrealness … yeah, Lance isn’t doing so bad. 😉

      It certainly does make sense to keep them on his lands, both from a medieval-lord and Sim-player perspective. I tax my Sims based on their property, not income, and if Ella and Billy weren’t on Lancelot’s lands … then there’s no property and thus, no taxes for Lance. Of course, from a game-playing perspective, they can still stay in their house, since Ella is a teen. But it would be tough, so I hope Kata sticks around for a while!

      I’m eager to see that new place too, especially since I haven’t built it yet! 😉

      • Whether or not there were many noblemen like Lance, thematically he’s a perfect counterpoint to Bors in-story– two visions of the same thing. While Lance is the romanticized ideal of a Medieval noble knight, Bors is what we unhappily suspect such a knight would have been. Between them, you have piety, romantic love, marriage as a business transaction, the heir-anna-spare mindset, giving one’s children the option of heading for religious life, forcing one’s children into religious life like it or not, two very different attitudes on the relative worth of a woman… Not to mention entirely honorable devotion to one’s king.

        Give a genuinely good man power and you get Lancelot. Give a decent-enough nincompoop power, and you get Bors.

        • And I TOTALLY meant for that parallel to happen. *nods*

          But what’s interesting about the two cousins, however, is that they are both a bit short on brain. I fear that that says more about me, though, than any collective vision of what medieval knights ought to have/probably actually were like.

          I think, though, that Lance’s reaction to power is different because he was prepared for it from the time he was an infant. He was born the heir. He learned how to manage land (and, more imporantly, the people on it) as soon as he could walk and talk. I guess it’s different if you’re prepared for it than if you’re genuinely good and just handed the power out of the blue.

          Not an excuse for Bors, by the way — he’s still a nincompoop no matter how you cut it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s