Read The Patrimony for Free Online

our customs, are not your people’s. I have allowed you to cleave to your preferred religion since you wed me, for all that it’s proscribed the length and breadth of our great Confederation, but don’t try to force Kindred into that narrow mold, dear.
    “We are free men, we Kindred. We reverence Sun and Wind as did our Sacred Ancestors back to our very beginnings on the Sea of Grass. We never have been priest-bound and saddled with those silly, childish rituals and taboos which your religion has foisted upon you Ehleenee.
    “Now, please let me get back to these arrows, love. There’s not much light left and I’d like to finish them today.”
    Mehleena left him. Pale and shuddering with frustrated rage and soul-sick of her—to her, justified—horror at the mortal sin her husband was countenancing under his very roof. But, heeding Cousin Neeka’s advice, she did nothing more, said nothing further… until the chiefs next headache.
    By the time that Hwahlruh recovered his will, nearly a month later, Tim was beyond the borders of the Confederation : . . and Giliahna was on her way to be wed to the Prince of Kuhmbuhluhn, a man but ten years her father’s junior and recently widower of his seventh wife.
    The aging chief sent a letter north with the next Confederation rider to pass through his duchy. In it, he humbly asked his son to forgive his temporary weakness to Mehleena’s importunings, begged him to return at once to his home, his father, and his family, but that letter was never answered. Nor were any others of the scores the repentant old man sent north. At length, his hurt pride surfacing, Hwahltuh stopped writing directly. Instead he entrusted weights of gold to Chief Bili,
Ahrkeethoheeks
Morguhn, that Tim might at least clothe himself well, own the protection of good weapons, decent armor and a well-trained destrier. Nor did the saddened
Thoheeks
of Vawn ever again hear directly from his heir. Only through Archduke Bili—who had been reared and war-trained in the Middle Kingdoms and who had kin and old comrades now in high places—did bits and pieces of Tim’s career trickle south, of Tim’s appointment as an ensign of dragoons in the Freefighter regiment of a well-known and renowned noble officer; of Tim’s knighting into the Order of the Blue Bear of Harzburk by King Gy, himself, on the blood-soaked field of Krahkitburk; of his defeat and capture of a famous champion in another battle; and, later, of the lieutenancy Tim purchased with said champion’s ransom.
    It was on Hwahltuh’s last visit to the
ahrkeethoheeks’
hall that he heard of the purchased promotion. In the few years of life he then had remaining, his infirmities precluded travel, and the yearly taxes were, perforce, delivered to the overlord by his brother, the
tahneestos
, and Tim’s brother, Behrl.
    “You know these strange northern ways, Chief Bili. What does it mean, this title my boy’s bought himself? How many bows will draw for him? Is he still an underling to this Colonel What’s-his-name?”
    Bili nodded. “Yes, Colonel Sir Hehnri, Earl of Pahkuhzburk, is still his commander, but the title means that Tim now commands a contingent of fifty horse archers—they call them ‘dragoons,’ up there—with an ensign or two and a senior sergeant to assist him. Tim’s now responsible for the training of his troop, for their welfare and provisioning in garrison or on the march and for recruiting replacements after battles. Their weapons and armor and their horses, however, are provided by Sir Hehnri, except for those men lucky enough to own their own.”
    Hwahltuh sighed his relief. He still meant to provide for his loved son, but he had suddenly realized as the archduke spoke that he could beggar his duchy if he had to buy trained warhorses and weapons and armor for fifty-odd men.
    Bili went on, grinning, obviously inordinately proud of this younger half brother who had succeeded so well in the land of their mother’s birth and