The Marquis by Michael O'Neill

would be a thorn in her side and a counter voice as Aebeling. This way, the mother of the child and the child itself would be under her roof and raised like her son.
    Conn wondered what the mother thought about it. Beomon introduced her later in the evening and she seemed delighted. She had not been on the ride from Sumy with her bedda as she had been visiting her mother. Prior to meeting her, lots of food and drink was brought in and everyone found a spot on the long benches to feast. Every time Conn turned around, another mug of beer was put his way to celebrate his role in the demise of the Ancuman. The mead and cider were robust – to say the least.  Not up to Meshech standards and both he and Derryth knew they were going to regret it in the morning. They could feel the handover already.
    It seemed that drinking to excess was expected of both sexes; the women also tended to loosen their bodices as the night progressed, until more was out than in. The ruckus behaviour involved lots of singing and dancing and more drinking. Most were semi naked at the end of the night, but not a lot of fornicating as most were too drunk.
    Conn could control his drinks, and for him at least, celebrations took a more intimate path soon after he met the new Aebeling’s mother, Ysha, as he discovered to be her name. She was so happy with her change of status, and “divorce” from the Thane, that she asked Conn if she may have a private conversation away from the noise of the hall, with the music, singing and dancing making it difficult to talk.
    She led him into a small antechamber some distance away from the hall. It was a solar with windows and the bright moonlight streamed into the room. Inside she drew the curtain behind her and Conn watched curiously as she then removed her clothing.
    She smiled at him as she went to remove his trousers. ‘I have decided that I should celebrate my freedom and thank you personally for everything you have done for my son, in a way that I’m sure you will appreciate.’
    Conn tried to reason with her. ‘It wasn’t actually my idea…’
    ‘Let’s keep that our little secret…’
    It seemed futile arguing with her, so he didn’t.
    ~oo0oo~
    The room had a few more assignations that night as several other more mature women in the room – those without care for reputation – had a desire to speak privately with him. Some had requests as well as carnal desires and he later helped as much as he could. Over the next weeks, the little antechamber was a favoured meeting place for him and Ysha; he found it hard to leave the donjon without Ysha waylaying him. Her room had her child, and she was disinclined to visit Conn in the barracks. So antechambers it was.
    Those that did have a care for reputation, sat very close, leaned over a lot and asked if he was looking for bedda. He wasn’t, so they went away miffed. Some even cried. Conn felt terrible momentarily.
    Frithlyn joined him later in the evening. She looked radiant in her Meshechian silk choli. She had used her influence within Conn’s household to be the second, after the Wealdend, to be wearing the new fashion from Meshech, and she wrapped a silk saree around the plunging neckline. The Wealdend’s support assured that his shops would sell out very quickly. She smiled mischievously. ‘You are certainly very popular, Marquis. I can see why you have over forty children. Perhaps you will have more after tonight...’
    ‘I hope not. Have you been accepted back – has your reputation been restored?’
    She nodded. ‘Pretty much. It helps that the Healdend has also made me head of her household – my position is called Bucho or something – and with Wystan as Colonel of the fyrd…’
    ‘But…’ Conn noticed the hesitation.
    ‘This is Samria. As the daughter of a Marquis I am expected to be the bedda of a Thane at worst. Daughters of Thanes are bedda to wiga.’
    ‘Didn’t the Wealdend become bedda to a wiga?’
    ‘She did – but her