Olan Thorensen - Cast Under an Alien Sun

“Oh, thank you, Maera!” exclaimed Anarynd, wrapping her arms around Maera tightly and squeezing. “I’ll work really, really hard. You’ll see.”

Anarynd released Maera and pulled back to look her in the eye. “We mustn’t let anyone know. I’m sure my family wouldn’t approve. We’ll have to find ways to be alone.”

Maera was already planning ahead. “Neither of us has any particular duties or activities, so no one should notice if we spend time together and away from others. Going for walks, for example. Once we’re out of sight, we can work on reading.” Maera was in full conspirator mode. If she had to endure this visit, she might as well play at deceiving adults.

“We’ll need quills, ink, and paper . . . and take care not to get the ink on ourselves or, if we do, wash it off before someone else sees it. We can also ‘play’ in our rooms during the day and work on reading after the others go to bed.”

Maera paused. She was about to tell Anarynd something she had never told another person.

“Anarynd, you say you wish you were more like me in being sure of myself and making people listen to me. Today, I wished I was more like you in some ways.”

“More like me? Why?”

“I don’t have many friends, and boys don’t seem interested in me. I don’t say I want them to ogle me all the time, but I’m not attractive and don’t know how to talk with them. Maybe you can help me.”

“Of course! It’ll be fun teaching you. And don’t tell me you’re not pretty enough. You just have to use what you have.”

And thus was born a conspiracy between two pubescent girls. Maera would teach Anarynd to read and be more assertive and, in return, get lessons in dress, rudimentary makeup, flirting, and playing on male egos. To Anarynd’s discouragement, Maera learned the first two well enough, but the flirting and talking herself down to a male’s level never took hold. For Anarynd, it was two years before her father realized she had learned to read. Although she was never going to be a scholar at Maera’s level, the ability to read not only expanded her horizons, it slowly imbued her with enough confidence to assert her own wishes on occasion and when it was important enough. Even this level of independence didn’t sit well with her father, but their eventual semi-truce involved Anarynd following his wishes on small matters, in exchange for more freedom to follow her interests. The big things, by mutual consent, they tried to avoid.

Over the years, the two girls each spent several sixdays a year visiting the other. The visits of Anarynd to Maera were longer, because the Morelands eventually figured out the source of the changed behavior of their once-docile daughter.and only reluctantly allowed Maera’s visits.

In addition to the visits, they wrote to each other once a sixday. The letters conveyed all of the things girls, and then young women, talk about to their best friends: what they were feeling, Anarynd’s lessons, Maera’s studies. Then, as they got older, they wrote about looking ahead to when they would marry—more eagerly in Anarynd’s case than Maera’s. Their paths, which had casually come together, would stay intertwined during the rest of their lives, albeit with episodes of both joy and despair.

Cadwulf’s news of a robbery in Abersford made Yozef realize he was ignorant about the Keelan justice system, which could be dangerous. He could violate a law and not know it, and what would happen if he did? Since he was already pumping Cadwulf for tidbits about Caedellium and Keelan society, history, and customs, why not add the functioning of their legal system?

He broached the idea with his young friend and employee the next day.

“Yozef, the current external adjudicator just arrived in Abersford for a justice session. Court will begin tomorrow, if you’d like to watch. This is the perfect way for you to see how the law functions here. I could come with you and explain what’s happening.”

“Tomorrow? I told Filtin I’d work with him on the new distillery setups. I guess that can wait a few days. Where are proceedings held?”

“In the cathedral. Anyone who wishes can observe, and the cathedral is the only gathering space near Abersford of sufficient size.”

“Will there really be that many attending?” Yozef asked in surprise.

“Not usually. It depends on the individual cases. The list is posted to all nearby villages, so the size of the crowd will vary, depending on the case, who is involved, how entertaining it might be, how many witnesses, or whether it involves people who are relatives or someone you either like or dislike. Of course, some people come just because it’s one of the more exciting things to happen in the Abersford area.”

By arrangement, they met at the abbey complex main gate the next day. People were walking from the village, and there were horses and wagons tied to stakes outside the abbey walls. Once inside the cathedral, they found two spots at the end of the eighth row of pews. Perhaps three hundred people sat in the eight-hundred-capacity space, when a man in black and white livery walked down the center aisle, turned to face the audience, and pounded a heavy staff on the floor three times.

“All present heed the justice of Keelan. All present heed their roles in this proceeding. All present acknowledge the justice that protects the people.” The man pounded his staff three times more. From a side door appeared three men dressed in black-and-white checkered robes, who filed to a table set on the first level above the audience. In front of them, with backs to the audience, were a set of chairs filled with men and a few women.

“What is the significance of the black-and-white robes?” Yozef whispered to Cadwulf.

“It’s supposed to symbolize even-handedness. The judges should not come to any predetermined conclusions until they hear the charges and evidence.”

From where they sat, Yozef at first couldn’t discern the faces of the three judges, but once they turned and took their seats, he could see that the one on his right was the abbot.

“You recognize Father. On the left is Longnor Vorwich, boyerman of our district, containing Abersford and St. Sidryn’s. Vorwich lives fifteen miles away near the town of Clengoth, which serves as the district center.”

“Are abbots always judges?”

“Not always. One judge is a citizen of high regard from the area. For this year, Father was proposed by Vorwich and approved by village chiefs and mayors. I think it’s the third or fourth time he’s had this year-long duty.”

Yozef didn’t recognize the white-haired, vigorous-looking man. “Who’s the man in the middle?”

“That’s Scholastic Andris Carys. He’s the adjudicator and is a scholastic from St. Tomo’s Abbey in Caernford. He’s an expert in the law and previous cases. While normally he would be addressed as Brother Carys, for these proceedings he is Adjudicator Carys. He will preside and advise Father and Boyerman Vorwich on law and precedence, and all three vote on each case. He oversees all cases in Keelan. Most of the time, the three men will agree on the verdict. When one judge disagrees with the other two, those cases are referred three times a year to Caernford, where the case will be presented again with Hetman Keelan becoming a fourth judge. In that case, if the disagreement is 2 to 2, the case is dismissed. If 3 to 1, then the decision of the three is determinative.”

“Are the three judges always men?”

Cadwulf turned to Yozef. “Well . . . yes, of course.”

Of course? Women’s rights had quite a ways to go here.

Yozef filed this information away and sat back to take in the first case. Carys called two men to stand before the judges. A dispute originated over a cow claimed to have been stolen by one of the men. The other man claimed it had been a sale. The case sped to a conclusion after the judges asked to see the bill of sale for the cow. The accused said he had forgotten to get a written bill and had no witnesses to the sale. The cow in question was characteristic enough that several witnesses agreed the cow in possession of the accused had been the same cow owned by the accuser. There were no other witnesses.