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Chapter 6 Foggy Ewe

Gouentine

"Where are we going?" Asked Angel as we carried down the path instead of taking the diverging way toward my manor.

"We are marching to my Clan's Patriarch, My Uncle Magnus, and to impress upon him your skill so we have a crew to build ships once more."

"Patriarch? Like that goat who was bothering me at the tavern?"

Time to be a teacher, Gouentine. "A patriarch is the head of the clan, usually the oldest Male. My Father was patriarch of clan Broyne. The other members of our clan, My uncles and cousins by blood and marriage, agreed to be his crew in exchange for housing. When my Father died with no son, my old Uncle Magnus became patriarch. With no ship architect for him to work for, being patriarch is how he pays for all their rent. "

"So what stops your uncle Magnus from marrying you off?"

I struggle to refrain from showing a slight annoyance in my voice. "The lairdship belongs to me by being the only child of my Father, the previous laird. So whomever I marry, He will become the laird. And Magnus will have to renegotiate rent with them."

"Well, why don't you just charge Magnus rent?"

"Because they already pay rent to the Mayor living in his province, and anything left over they need to feed their families."

"So if they don't pay you, how did you guys pay the Mayor?"

And at this, my verbal floodgates are opened.

"BY BUILDING AND MAINTAINING the Mayor's fleet. HENCE my Father being A COMMODORE. Our primary export is Cow Oils and bones. Cows must be hunted for oils and bones, which must be traded to far-off ports. Both acts require ships that age and bend with the tides. The Mayor collected the profits for the king while taking a big cut, so he didn't need to tax us. Then my dad was knighted by the king and took the largest ship. This ship was originally going to the Mayor, then my Father went-a-cowing and gave the profits directly to the king…."

With such a lengthy explanation, I find myself panting and needing to lean against the wooden fence by the path. Angel offers to help, but I stave him off. I am still going.

"And then my Father died. And now we had to pay the Mayor because we can't provide service to either him or the king. Until you came along."

I take his hands in my hooves and look him in the eye.

"With your help, this lairdship will remain in my family's name."

He smiled, though his lips twitched slightly as if he was going to say something. But he didn't, instead nodding and looking down the path. Letting go of my hooves, instead, he offered his elbow. "So, shall we get on with saving the worl- I mean your lay-errd-ship?"

I wrapped my arm around his elbow. "Let's."

Part of me wonders why he doesn't know about our clans and kingdoms. Then a thought came to mind. That in the perfect society of the twins above, they would not need a clan. All are twins, after all. So they needn't be such things as Clans or kings when it's self-evident the twins are supreme.

That and also, it seems my Angel is a stubborn brat who most likely got the cane a lot had he ever attended my parish. Gosh, I can already feel my wrists burn from the lashing.

As we walk down the path, Angel swings the tweed-tied leather package of his work clothes I bought for him as if I was carrying a basket of flowers through the meadow as a lamb. The package included wide trousers, an extra shirt, a black jacket, and some matching pomp shoes. Play clothes for a boy like him. Clothes I know will get dirty. But I would prefer they be filthy with tar and sawdust, all in a day's hard work. Not doused in the mud of my backyard from carelessness.

I am going to have to introduce this five-kubit tall man-child to my mother.

Twins, have mercy.

"Angel, will you stop swinging that bag around? One clumsy move of your fingers, and you'll get them covered in mud! You're making me nervous, for twin's sake! It's not like clothes grow on trees!"

"Well, cotton is grown on plantations. Do you guys have those? With the slaves?"

Twins, he is an oddly curious angel. How can I assume he spent all that time up there, building the most significant ships in the legend, when he seems to always have wanderlust? Indeed he would be preoccupied with their great telescopes up there that we know the twins have to watch over us.

"Yes," I answer. "Slaves exist on the mainland and Petterie. They say they're debt slaves..."

I take a moment to gingerly open the gate entrance to the forest fence for him. A moment to collect my thoughts. No need to arrive at my relative's doorstep, annoyed.

As we walk a few meters down the road, my annoyance is replaced with patriotism. "But, truth be told, I believe they were Ronalsh of yore who, unable to leave their land but unwilling to forego their culture, stayed, and were thus made slaves."

I know it's not the most polite thing. Discussing politics with friends, especially someone of the twins. But gosh darn it! He's my responsibility, and he needs to be informed. After all, If he were placed in a Merno's control, he would get their opinions.

I smiled to myself. A clever justification! And perhaps a future of interesting insights could come about from this! You're an intelligent ewe, Gouentine. Maybe even the twins are aware of that.

And then, with a bleat, I slipped backward on some mud.

"TWINS!"

Splattered on my dress, undergarments, even sticking to my wool! Cold, gelatinous mud mixed with pebbles and insects. Oh, twins, the insects. Multi-legged crawling creatures, disturbed by my clumsiness if not outright killed and adding to the splattered debris on my sheepson!

I feel disgusting.

For twin's sake! How can I represent my mother like this? How am I supposed to meet Uncle Magnus like this?

I feel a cold breeze as two firm hands grab under my arms and lift me up. Angel brings me to a tiny dry opening by the trail, where grass and moss have created a firm ground.

"You good?" He asks a look of worry upon his furless face.

I nod and take a deep breath. Good times are ahead, Gouentine. But, first, I will just have to leave this forest, return to my manor, change into a new dress, and visit Uncle Magnus. It will be annoying but necessary if I am to make an excellent first impression.

Coughing, I get ready to give Angel the command for us to disengage from this pursuit and return homeward to better prepare for the future. And then, opening my eyes, I am greeted by Angel, offering the leather wrap of his work clothes.

"Angel! That's for your clothes."

"What? Christ, you're more pedantic than my mother. Use it to clean yourself off."

Oh, he's right. I unbind my wool and take the leather. The mud is already drying on my dress and barely comes off with the wrappings, while my wool is beginning to clump.

"It is no good," I say, watching Angel hang his work clothes off branches on the trees around us. "I'll need to bathe in the loch. But how will I get there without being seen?"

"How about…" Angel took the leather from me. Then, he created a leather bag of sorts using the tweed string. "I just run to where those gulls are and fill this with water to clean your hair?"

I'm embarrassed at the thought that Angel would come up with such a better plan. But I see a flaw. "You'll be running back and forth all day for water to clean my dress."

"That's why I hung up my extra clothes. For you to change into them."

Twins? Me wearing men's clothes twice my arm and leg width? I'll look ridiculous. It'll be preposterous. Changing out here in the woods by one of the many paths that intersect it?

Oh, but it was such a long walk from the tailors to reach this point, to head back to my house and change, only to reach Uncle Magnus? By the time I have to return, It will be dark, which will require torches and twins! The wolviffs would be out by then…

"Alright, fine." I point a finger hoof towards the loch. "Go fetch me water for my hair. I require some privacy."

There was that damned smug grin on his stupid flat face as he turned to leave. Twins, I'll assume, like any other boy, he is up to no good when he does that. I watch him disappear into the bush and remove my dress and undergarments. The mud had seeped past the fabric but came off my body fur while brushing my hooves. Thank the twins…

And so I started putting on Angel's clothes. The wide trousers I roll up, producing puffy pantaloons that exaggerated the calves above my hooves but left ample room for my rump. The linen shirt, too, needed its cuffs rolled and to be stuffed into the pants. The leather vest isn't too large, at least, coming down to my hips.

I wish I had a mirror! I feel like a miscreant!

I hang my dress on the tree's largest branch and then hide my undergarments in a bush. I will return for these after our visit. By then, the mud will have dried.

Angel appears, a dripping leather sack in his arms. He takes a moment to stare at me, the sight of me in his clothes no doubt an interesting picture. I snap at him to grab his attention. "Angel! Please hurry! My wool is beginning to clump."

With a jolly gait, he came over and offered the sack. I held my hooves out and coated them in water. I ran them through my wool several times, less and less mud coming off. Until finally, I looked him in the eye.

"Just pour a little on my hair," I asked.

Angel then splashed the water on my face.

"Gaw!" I scream. "Angel! Why?"

"What?" He steps back, holding the bladder to his chest as if to guard it against me! Me! "All of the mud's off your face! And only your collar is soaked."

How many times will I have to breathe today to calm down, twins? I shake my head and begin to wring my hair. As childish as it was, the splashing saved me some time. Twins, what am I going to do with you, Angel?

"Next time, could you PLEASE tell me your solution before you involve me in it?"

"Sure, I'll tell you." The impromptu leather bladder now empty, Angel wrapped it around his pair of pomps. "Unless I know you're going to say no."

"Well, of course, I would say no to being splashed!" I say, having finished fixing my hair. "It's not like I have another pair of clothes to change into!"

"You're almost dry, don't worry. Besides, You needed to cool off. Can't be mad when you visit your family, right?"

Twins! I applaud thee for sending me an angel this difficult! For I know overcoming his challenges is all a part of your plan to make me better!

Once more, I began to march down the trail towards my Uncle Magnus, Angel taking a second to realize he should follow. He trails next to me, and I admit, based on the slapping of mud, that he's no longer wearing his shoes.

"Angel! I paid good money for those shoes!" I say, worried.

As if out of thin air, the Angel pulls out his pomps. "Couldn't get your water if I wore them. Keep in mind, I work barefoot."

Foot? Oh, twins. Gouentine, you have yet to see what he has at the ends of those tree trunk legs. In their image, the twins must have strange legs for their disciples to not have hooves and their knees to be backward. I should return to the parish one day and have Angel confirm or deny what the parish teaches. I'm surprised only a few have done such a thing.

As appropriately dressed as I'll ever be and with no time to lose, we carried on the path toward Uncle Magnus. Reaching the short 3 to six-cubit cliffs before the loch shore, familiar shacks and cottages came into view, besides their curracks, dinghies, fishing gear, and cowing tools. All in the foreground of the reflective majesty of the loch, behind which, after a smaller white sand beach, came the black and green of the mountains that framed our island's coast.

Seeing a familiar figure or two exiting the closest cottage, I cough and practice my family accent. "A pleasure to be in your presence, yah wee old man," I repeat this twice, doing my best to sound as natural as possible.

In the corner of my eye, I see Angel staring. "What?" I ask accent still on.

"What's with the uh...accent?"

"In the presence of the patriarch, you can't be speaking like a Merno."

"Do I need to change my accent?"

I hesitate to answer. He is my guest. He should abide by my rules. But then again, his speaking as he does may make him seem less threatening to the patriarch. If he spoke like our accent, knowing him, it'd come off exaggerated. Offensive, and that's the last thing we need.

Wait, if his default accent is like that of a Merno, what does that imply about the twins?

I don't like that at all.

"Just speak when spoken to, and don't embarrass me," I say, swiping away any heretical thoughts. Thoughts of the possibility that the twins were, by nature of how their representatives speak, in favor of the Merno? Twins, that's scary.

We walked along the cliff until we reached the ramp leading to the cottages, where there were four figures outside. Three of whom were my young, able-bodied buffoons of cousins, standing with their arms crossed like they were my Uncle's guard, who sat in a chair before a table, cane in hand and bonnet atop his head. All four were dressed in kilts of black and yellow and blouses, black or red.

"It's been a wee while since I last saw ya, lass." Croaked my elder relative.

"Aye, I'm afraid I've been neglecting ye and would've come to find you dried up and hanging with the fish waiting to be salted."

This got the old man laughing until he coughed, smacking his wooden peg leg like a thigh of ages. I don't think there was ever a time in my life when it wasn't a wooden leg, but my memory of yesterday is foggy. My memories of a lamb seem far off now, except whatever was taught to us by those wretched nuns. And that's only because they promised the wrath of the twins should we forget.

"What are ye doing dressed like a sailor? And where did ye get an angel?" He leaned back into his chair, hand behind his head as if he were pleased. The bell on his collar jingled as he did so.

"I'm afraid I got my clothes a wee bit doused in mud." I curtsied my pantaloons as if they were the dress I had left behind. "I mean nae disrespect."

Uncle Magnus waved his hand. "It suits you. Nae, never mind. What about the Angel. Are yee a good one? Yee nae brought trouble with ye?"

With that question, my cousins surrounded Angel, who raised his arms as if to surrender. Even with caps on their heads, my cousins were only up to their waist in height. Did he mean to tease them? Or did find them a genuine threat?

"No trouble." Said, Angel. "I'm here to help your niece and therefore help you."

My cousins held fast, ceding no ground nor impeding on Angel's personal space. My Uncle continued his leisurely reclining, his tongue licking his chops as he seemed to ponder in his head the character of my guest. I wonder if maybe I had made a mistake. Twins, gouentine, perhaps I should give Uncle Magnus my Angel and let him have all the struggle.

Is he going to request I cede Angel to him?

I bide my breath as Uncle bends forward to plant his cane, get off the chair and saunter over to Angel. His hoof-tipped fingers outstretched, he offered to shake Angel's hands. "Pleasure ta have ya."

They shook, and again my heart was eased.

"Olaf. Go fetch me some tea. Angel, if ya wouldn't mind keeping my boys busy. They're awfully bored hanging around an old billy like me."

Olaf, his black and brown fur spackled as if the twins wanted it to be difficult as to whether one could guess how clean he was, nodded and went into the cottage. Meanwhile, my other two cousins, Grant and Darnold, stared at Angel.

"What do angels do for fun?" Asked Grant, his head turned. He was the youngest, his voice almost making me instinctively want to go bawww in cuteness.

"Well, we…" What's this? A moment of embarrassment coming from my Angel of all people? Has he finally found a match?

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for an answer. Then, finally, he stood up straight, reached slowly toward Grant, and with the slightest touch, poked his nose.

"We play tag. You're it."

And like that, Angel took off, my cousins bursting into laughter and chasing after him. Down the beach, they ran, and once Olaf had put tea and biscuits on the table beside our Uncle, he too was following after them.

Uncle Magnus laughed, his bell jingling as he did so. It was such a wholesome sight I almost found myself crying at the thought. A moment passed, and we were both seated, sipping tea and talking.

"Where does the time go, gooney?" My nickname brings back memories of my younger days. "I remember when ya father and I were just starting to build boats on this very beach."

"Did you ever think such a venture would prove as profitable as it was?"

"Nae. I never even thought I would get off this island." He bit into the biscuit, wiped the fur on his chin, and talked despite the crumbs and spit muffling half of his words. "Yae father and I were the poorest family, and yer grandfather was a tanner. Boat building was a hobby. And we never thought we could build one boat."

"But my father was a miracle worker, and he built ten dinghies for the richest families in town, and then he built the railway and the Boatworks, and then he built the prettiest boats and fishing ships the land had ever seen."

"And then he was knighted and bought me my commission." Magnus had finally finished the food in his mouth, and his smile came out. "Six years of service. Did I ever tell yee about it?"

"Only every time I visit." I smiled, pouring him another glass of tea.

"Because it was the best time of my life. Culminating in the participation of the greatest battle on this planet, that only the legends of the ancient ones may yet meet in scale and importance."

"Sh-SHH-SHam-ways? Was that the name of the village where it happened?"

"Yes. A shitty place. No hills or rivers. A flat plain." He took a long sip and sighed. His gaze was now towards the beach, and I followed it to see Angel with all three of my cousins on top of him like a walking tree being climbed by Squeewaws. "Perfect place for the battle ta decide the fate of the world."

"But was it really worth yae leg?"

"I would've given ma whole body, young lass." Uncle Magnus seemed to jump out of his chair, and I was up and holding him from almost flopping on his belly. "That is the oath we swore. And that was what we performed."

"Once he was properly seated, he spoke again. "We held that center for hours upon hours. Shell, Shot, bayonet, and sabre. MY thigh was sliced open, and my leadership were all dead. But I paid no mind! I paid no mind because-"

"Yee, I know why." I said quickly. Of course, it feels like it's been forever since we last spoke, but I am all too familiar with this story.

"Young lass, don't interrupt me." His yellowed eyes stared at me with the intensity only an angered old man could achieve.

"As to why ye paid no mind? I do remember-"

"Yes, and one day I won't! So will ya relish the goodness that is my memory, or will ya continue to put down this old goat?"

There was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Oh, Gouentine! Just for once, I shall tolerate this unhappy remembrance.

In silence, I sat down and waved my hand a non-verbal "As you were" to my Uncle.

"As I was saying. I was the last officer in charge, and my thigh was ripped open. And yet I stood fast and held strong because a wee fifer was beside me playing. A fourteen-year-old, a recent conscript who came with his Father. Who was lying on the ground, dead, and nearly every man the fifer knew. Yet the fifer continued ta play. He was a good kid, and his name was-"

The wool on my stomach and chest began to spike as I interrupted my Uncle to say the name before he could.

"Charlie Boyse." It was like knives coming off my tongue. "I remember, Uncle."

And like a sword through my chest, my Uncle gets the last word. "I still say if you had gone through marrying him, you could have picked worse."

That was it, Gouentine. The worst part of your visit was over. Now everything in relation was to be easy. Good times are ahead, Gouentine.

"Speaking of that battle, why don't you ever wear that metal? Every time Father and I visited, he'd always ask ya ta bring it out."

"I have eight years under my belt. Six years before Chamois. What difference does one battle make when war is my duty. In the deed-"

"The glory." I Interrupted once more. Twins, Gouentine. If you were worried about manners, you sure aren't showing it. "You said that every time."

"It would be our motto if it weren't 'legacy unyielding.'"

"Speaking of legacy, how is little Olaf?"

"He's good. But he's not yet proved himself worthy of being Tanis. He says he's going to sign up for the army, but I tell him he's got no reason to. There ain't going to be another war for thirty years. Scruntillion fought the continent for long enough."

"Well, how do you think he should prove himself worthy of being a worthy heir?"

Uncle Magnus raised a jittery old finger and pointed toward the beach, "Well, I have my own ways, but he seems to have one right now."

Twins! Angel was a few kubits away, his belly and face in the soil whilst his limbs were in the air, tied together like a freshly caught cow. Grant and Donald were atop him while Olaf had his arms crossed once more.

"Olaf!" I was furious once more. "What have ye done?"

"Caught me an angel, Great cousin Gwen. Can I be ta tanis now?"

I was out of my chair and walking to the little miscreant like I was about to unleash the lousy twin's fury. "Untie him! His clothes are brand new!"

"Awwww, but-"

"No buts!" I say, kneeling beside the Angel to start removing his binds. "Besides, he's already mine."

"HAHA, TOLD YOU!" Angle professed. Once he was up and about, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him to my eye level.

"Don't speak to my cousins like that." I could see my own fury reflect off the Angel's skin as he turned a pale gypsum white.

"Roger." Was his reply. I assume that means yes. But, twins, could their language be any easier to understand? I'm going to have to ask Angel if we could come up with a book of all the terms only the twins use.

My thoughts were interrupted, however, by the high-pitched voice of Olaf's complaints. "How am I supposed ta be a chief when every feat of mine is downplayed?"

At this, I spun to meet Olaf with a smile and clasped my hooves around his. "Well, you could be a captain like a yer uncle Flannigan. In fact, we are building a ship like the evening star and need a crew."

"Ah, so that's why ya came to visit. Not ta share the wonders of ya hairless pet." Magnus croaked.

"Oh, Dontcha worry, he's nothing worth sharing," I replied.

It was Angel's turn to speak. "Should I be offended by that?"

Looking Angel in the eye, I recreated the same smug grin I had seen on his face too many times.

"Well, I guess I might as well host a feast." Uncle Magnus said, rising from his chair and grabbing his cane.

I met Uncle Magnus' face with joy. "Do ya really mean it?"

"Of course. Now, don't think I'm doing ya any favors. It'll be up to you to impress them. I'll just gather them."

Twins! I begin to bounce and shake in place, newfound energy filling up my body. I grab Angel's hands and hop up and down and spin, a smile like no other finding itself on my face. I can already see it! The food, the music! I haven't seen the family members, at least not since my Father's funeral! Twins! It's going to be different from that. No more sadness, no more feelings of despair. We will impress the cousins and find a crew for the Mayor and then produce ships and live on the lairdship in peace! Twins, thank you!

My dance of joy was interrupted, however, by Uncle's cough.

"Before ya go, could we talk? In Private?"

I coughed and brushed my pantaloons. "Of course."

As my Uncle and I started walking somewhere private, I could hear my cousin's footsteps as they surrounded Angel once more. Glancing over my shoulder once more, I witnessed Angel antagonizing them with flicks to the nose before running, only to be stopped by a tackle. For twin's sake, I'm going to be up all night cleaning that suit for tomorrow!

We walked a little past the cottages, out of sight of the boys, before uncle Magnus finally turned towards me. Then, taking my hooves on his own, he spoke in a low voice, the same he had used when he told me about my Father.

"I need ya ta talk to Charlie for me."

"What?"

"Every night, I see his men walking on their side of the loch's beach, moving along barges to their end. He's productive, ta say the least. Imagine what he would bring ta us."

I can't believe what I am hearing.

"Just… talk to him." Uncle Magnus repeats.

At the back of my mind, I am filled with fear. Pain. Regret. I never wanted anything to do with that Billy ever again! And yet, the only sheepson as close to me as my own mother insists I interact with the very cause of my pain. For what purpose?

For the lairdship. For the land my Father and Uncle Magnus had worked so hard to secure.

For my family.

I pull my hooves away from my Uncle's. "Will you withhold the feast if I don't?"

He's silent, finally speaking with a stutter. "N-nae, but I think the feast would be more legitimate with a marriage announcement. Then, ya fellow clansmen would be so happy ta drink, and then your hairless friend could entrap them."

I hold my hand to my chest and bow to my Uncle. "This is Getting late, Uncle. I must bid you farewell. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Gouentine."

As I walk away, my Uncle speaks one last time. "I would never force yae ta do anything bad, Gooney."

"I know, uncle." I give him a smile, insincere but only to reassure him. "Thank you for hosting us."

Once more I free Angel and begin our trek back home in silence. We passed the clearing where I had hung my clothes up to dry, only to find my favorite dress was missing.

Good times are ahead, Gouentine. Good times are ahead.