Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [144]
The man nodded sharply. “None of you mageborn treat women with real respect,” he said. Kieri heard a stir behind him and put up his hand; no one said anything. He nodded to the man, who after a look around shrugged and went on. “Your king,” he said, squirming a little as if to settle into a more comfortable position for a long tale. “He held land in northern Tsaia; that you surely know.” Kieri nodded. “He had a mercenary company before—perhaps you know that.” Kieri nodded again. “Well, then. I know that in other lands, women train in weapons skills. So also a few of ours; it is not good, but it need not be an offense to the gods. Your king—your king—sent men out to find girls, young girls who knew nothing of weapons or war, and brought them to his stronghold. Far from their families, far from any protection of their kin, and there—there his soldiers took what pleasure they wanted.”
Kieri fought down the urge to defend himself, explain. If this was what the Pargunese believed, then perhaps their enmity made sense of a sort.
“They became soldiers—they had to, to survive; they could not go home after such disgrace. Living among men not their families, alone—what else could they do but whore and fight?”
Kieri made an indeterminate sound, and as he hoped, the man went on.
“Never to marry, never to bear children for their family’s honor, forever ruined—and yet, and yet, you gave him the crown. How you could endure such—”
“So how did he get your daughter?” Kieri asked.
The man grimaced. “He seduced her long ago, I fear. She was always rebellious; I blame her mother, who was from Kostandan, where women are allowed too much freedom. Her mother learned obedience before her death, but there is something in the blood. At any rate, my daughter would learn weapons lore from her brothers, and was happier on a horse than afoot.”
“Pargun breeds good horses,” Kieri said.
“Horses are well enough,” the man said, “but ships are a man’s wealth. It is by ships we know the most of your king’s behavior. In far Aarenis, which no one else in the north regards, our captains visit every port, and there they have seen your king’s soldiers, men and women alike, walking bare-legged in the marketplace. They bear themselves like harlots, those women—shameless and proud.”
“Still …” Kieri said, letting his voice trail off.
“Your king is unmarried,” the man said. “It is said he was married before, to one of his own soldiers, who bore his children. But he left her alone in the north, and she was killed because he did not protect her. Even so, as a king, I thought he must be surrounded by those who would keep him from such vileness. So, with due care, I sent my rebellious daughter to his court. If he married her, and proved honorable, it might bring peace to the north. She alone of my daughters might, I thought, be less apt for his abuse. If he insisted she ride and hunt … well, she would not mind so much.”
Kieri stood up. “You must come to Chaya,” he said, “and see the king.”
“As a prisoner?” the man said. “To be killed like any common criminal? If that is your notion of honor, kill me here. Boast to your king of it, then. My brothers and sons wait across the river; they will avenge me and my daughter.”
Kieri had not imagined this as his first meeting with the king of Pargun. “The king may not kill you,” he said. “But you must make your accusations formally, in front of witnesses, and you will want to see your daughter—”
“I do not want to see her as she is now,” the man said. “If I see her I must kill her, for her honor and mine.” His eyes blurred with tears suddenly, the first emotion he’d shown other than anger. “You—if you do not have daughters, you cannot imagine what it is—those little soft faces, little flowers, we call them. Hers was as bright as any—she was willful as the early spring flowers that push through snow and will not droop or fold for frost or wind. We quarreled much as