Page 31 of The Second Marriage
The morning sun was hot on his face as he left the fortress and walked along the path that cut across the hillside toward the gardens. The tall grass that grew to either side was wet with dew and the hem of his robe grew damp as he went. A row of fruit trees bordered the eastern margin of the gardens, and Abiral and Ujesh stood there examining a persimmon tree. The branches bore small yellow flowers, and as Sejun drew near he heard Ujesh saying, “—good yield this year.”
“One God willing. That late frost last spring did much harm.”
“We’re well past the time for that now.” Ujesh caught sight of Sejun over Abiral’s shoulder and bowed to him. “Did you dream well, my lord?”
Abiral turned and smiled at him. “Sejun! A beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
“Good dreams bless you both.” Sejun took the baby’s fat foot in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The baby peered at him over Abiral’s shoulder and smiled at him around the fist he had shoved into his mouth. “I have a question for Abiral, but it’s nothing urgent. Don’t let me interrupt you.”
“I’m doing nothing here but getting in Ujesh’s way,” Abiral said with a smile at the steward. “Let’s walk down the slope and see how the chilies are doing.”
Sejun wiped at his face with the sleeve of his robe as he followed Abiral. Physical exertion was tedious and so unnecessary. He should have stayed indoors.
The chilies were growing well, in Sejun’s estimation. He prodded at one where it hung from the plant. The waxy outer skin was smooth to the touch. He eyed Abiral, who had knelt to inspect one of the plants. The baby had drooled a large damp patch against the shoulder of Abiral’s robe.
“Well,” Abiral said without looking at him, “what’s on your mind, then?”
Sejun sat down in the dirt, the earth dark and damp with dew. The chili plants rose around him, shading him. “Taral told me he was married before.”
“Ah.” Abiral sat back on his heels and regarded Sejun. “So the secret is out.”
“Did you know him? I suppose it was before you came to Tadasho.”
Abiral nodded. “Yes, it all happened a few years before I married Iniya. I know the story in broad strokes, but not the particulars. Taral has never spoken of it to me, so everything I know comes from Iniya, and from their mother before her death.”
Sejun watched a black beetle trundling across the uneven ground, its carapace hard and shiny as polished onyx. “I wish I had known,” he said, knowing as he said it that he sounded like a petulant child.
“But then you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him, and all would have been lost.” Abiral’s tone was dry. “Which of them do you blame more?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to blame anyone. I don’t want to live with anger held inside my heart.” The beetle came to a twig lying in its path and struggled to climb over it, its front legs waving in the air as it reared backward to gain purchase. “I’m not displeased to be married to him.”
“Taral has gone to great lengths over the years to keep the household running, and I know it’s caused him grief at times. He sold his horse, for instance, just this past autumn, and he loved that animal dearly.” Abiral squinted at the chili plant. “I can’t claim they didn’t do you ill. But I also can’t claim I stopped them once I knew what they were planning.”
“I’ll be angry with all of you, then,” Sejun said crossly, “and with the children as well, I suppose, as I’m sure they overheard your scheming.”
Abiral laughed. “The children, I would argue, are innocent. But the rest of us, no. We deserve your wrath.”
This open admission didn’t make Sejun feel any better. He scowled at the beetle as it fell from the twig and began a second attempt.
“I like Taral and care for him,” Abiral said. “I think you’re good for him. He’s held sorrow close to him for all the years I’ve known him.”
And holds it still, Sejun thought but didn’t say. “I’ll let you make your amends to me, then. Dancing every other night until the end of the summer.”
“Oh! You extract a rich price. Very well, I accept this as my penance.” Abiral rose to his feet. “I should take this fat one back to Iniya. He’ll be hungry again before long. Enjoy your morning.”
Sejun sat where he was after Abiral had gone off. The shade of the chili plants was quite pleasant, and he had nowhere he needed to be.
He wasn’t sure what he thought about Abiral, whose manner was so good-humored and equable that Sejun thought surely it concealed something darker, although he couldn’t say what he suspected. But he liked the thought that he was good for Taral, and that was how he knew the worst of his anger had passed. He couldn’t undo his marriage, and he supposed he didn’t want to. Here he was, a man of Tadasho now, sitting in the dirt with insects.
He picked up a fallen leaf and used that to help guide the beetle onto the top of the twig. It clambered over the other side and trundled away.
PARTII
CHAPTER14
The Sarnai merchant caravan arrived, as it always did, with little advance notice. Taral emerged from his room one morning and found that a messenger had come from Merek with news that the Sarnai were on their way to Tadasho fortress. They traveled a circuitous route to Tadasho from the Khentii Steppe to the south, over the pass through the barrier mountains to Ripuk before doubling back through Samtse then north into Tadasho. Taral had asked once why they didn’t take a more direct way, and the Sarnai man he spoke to told him, with no apparent hesitation, that Ripuk had the most money and paid the best prices. So it went.
The caravan appeared on the road that afternoon. Taral couldn’t help remembering the day Sejun’s dowry was delivered, and how he had ridden to Barun afterward, mired in sorrow. But that was finished now. He was determined to be a devoted husband and to never think of Jaysha at all.