The Travels of Anadrasata Nearabhigan: Day 15
Anadrasata is now fifteen days away from home in several senses of the phrase. The problem with being on board a ship is that you are in close quarters with a group of people you've never met before.
This piece runs to 1,580 words and I hope that you all enjoy it.
Index Page
Rhoinday, 25 Ochd, 1893 C.E.
Dear Journal,
No storm last night, but I was woken twice by banging on a cabin door (not mine) or possibly the corridor wall. Both times it didn't continue quite long enough for me to steal myself to roll out of bed and find out what was going on.
At breakfast Miss Ghaighain, then Lady Saidhelait also commented on the banging sounds in the night. Lord Teneseri volunteered that he too had been woken by the commotion, and Colonel Dhaiharai said that even in first class other passengers were sometimes inconsiderate. I believe I heard Miss Eghainaida tell her sister something along the lines of "I told you so."
Major Vhenghahair and the Lieutenants joined us for breakfast as a group. I gathered from their comments that the Major had decided that they needed to perform early morning group calisthenics on the promenade deck. I do not know why, but I note that Colonel Dhaiharai (retired) was amused.
Mr Gritteye joined us without his mother, and immediately set about fortifying himself with coffee, grilled meats, and sauteed tubers/roots.
When Mrs Gritteye joined us a quarter of an hour later she went straight up to him and demanded, "And where were you last night?"
He replied calmly, "I slept well, thank you, Mother. And you?"
"I needed you to adjust my window, but you weren't in your cabin! I knocked twice!" Mrs Gritteye did not speak quietly and the rest of us were torn between embarrassment on Mr Gritteye's behalf, wondering what the next revelation might be, and realising who had woken us in the night.
"I was asleep, obviously," replied Mr Gritteye.
"But with whom?" demanded his mother, as she turned to glare at the three unmarried women in the room. We were jointly and individually offended.
"I believe I woke cuddled up with the Count dh'Khaighain," replied Mr Gritteye. "As I recall I was adjudicating a bet on who could recite the greatest number of sonnets from Thoughts for a Summer's Afternoon." He looked over at the Lieutenants. "I'm sorry, I don't recall if we came to a decision."
It was Lord Retneseri who gave a snort of laughter and said, "So you all fell asleep in the library in the middle of finding out which of you is best at remembering poetry? My people do not approve of gambling, but I am moved to ask what the stakes were in this matter?"
"A box of sweets one of my aunts gifted me," said Lieutenant Lord Maith. "It was kind of her, but the mixture contains liquorices and they bring me out in hives."
Lord Retneseri went blanked faced for a moment, then said mildly, "Kind, to give you a gift that will make you sick? You are a generous soul, Lieutenant Lord Maith." Then he stood and bowed in the Lieutenant's direction.
Mr Gritteye turned back to his mother and said, "Mother, I believe you owe these ladies an apology." He waited a few moments. "Now. If you can insult them in public, you can apologise in public."
Mrs Gritteye stayed silent, and her body quivered with indignant refusal - although I don't know whether she was refusing to apologise or to do as her son instructed. (She seems the sort of woman who insists on being in charge of her children [I think I live with one.])
Mr Gritteye said calmly, "I see. We will speak about this later, in private, Mother." Then he stood, bowed in our direction, and said, " Please accept my apologies, ladies, for my mother's distempered vitriol and the violence her futile attempt to impeach your reputations must have done to your feelings." He bowed again, sat back down, and readdressed his breakfast.
No-one spoke to Mrs Gritteye in the time until I left the dining room. She went to sit next to Colonel Dhararai and he just looked at her - and she moved to a seat on her own.
I went for my morning walk around the promenade deck and stopped to say good morning to Lady Rhainail and her children who were also taking the air. Her little girl, Maihiar, was finding things beginning with particular sounds, and her little brother, Silaisai, was enthusiastically trying to look at the mountains beyond the ship. After I left them, I passed Lady Saidhelait and Major Vhenghahair walking in the opposite direction again - I got the impression that he was being sympathetic.
While I was in my cabin later, doing my work on the Coatl primer, I was a little disturbed by the sound of a raised voice. I could not hear the words, but I think it was Mrs Gritteye. Whoever she was speaking to/with was not loud enough for me to hear them.
I left my cabin earlier than usual for lunch, today's chapter of the primer had been shorter than usual, and I was in ti9me to say goodbye to the departing officers - Major Rhainghabh, the unaccompanied Half Colonel, two other Majors, and a Captain. I am on a journey and the people I meet are on their own, quite different journeys - there is no point in becoming attached.
Mrs Gritteye did not join us for lunch. The Dowager Countess looked primed for war at the beginning of the meal and she gradually subsided over the main course. There are three new first class passengers today - Baron dh'Bhaiettree, Mr dh'Bhaiettree (his brother), and Mr Rhaimghairn (the Baron's secretary). They sat with Mr Gritteye, who they already know, at lunch. All three gentlemen are at the stage of distinguished middle age.
I walked around the promenade after lunch, then made my way back to my cabin to collect my embroidery. As I walked down the corridor, the three very young lady passengers were in front of me, probably on a similar task. Lord Retneseri's man servant - a tall, well set up fellow in the dress of his country - emerged from the servant's/crew's door, heading for his master's room with fresh linens of some sort in his hands. When he and the girls met, the curtsied the way they would to Colonel Dhararai or one of the senior officers. I was suddenly not sure how I should acknowledge him, but Lord Retneseri's cabin was closer to him than mine, so the matter did not come up. I wondered if there was some practice in the Kerajaa that meant that the manservant was treated at the same level as his master or if the man himself was a gentleman in noble service?
The matter was still exercising my mind when I reached the balcony parlor, so as the girls were already there with their mothers. I asked them why them why they'd curtsied. It was Miss Aidelaist dh'Zhngain who answered for them. She told me that he was obviously an officer. If Lord Retneseri was an important nobleman travelling incognito, then an officer acting as his bodyguard would not be unexpected. Her mother went to say something, stopped for a moment, then slowly agreed - then told the girls not to gossip about it. If Lord Retneseri was incognito, there was probably good reason for it. [I suspect that Half Colonel dh'Zhangain and Major Mhainghair will be hearing about this before dinner.]
Both dh'Ironaith ladies and Miss Ghaighain joined us shortly after that. I believe that the Dowager Countess was planning to speak to Mrs Gritteye, but that lady did not join us. When the tea tray came in Miss Aidelaist dh'Zhangain and Miss Annasena Mhainghair poured for us. The young ladies did well, and I agreed with the Dowager Countess' kind words on their performance - it is a useful social skill, it's not easy to do such things for the first few times in a public, out of your own home, setting, and they did do well. I am sure that the Dowager Countess' approval holds much more weight than mine.
At dinner I was on the Captain's Table(!) between Mr Aistaim dh'Bhaiettree and Lieutenant Lord Maith. Mr dh'Bhaiettree and I discussed the countryside of our respective home locations - his family has holdings along the northern side of this stretch of the Circle Mountains. Lieutenant Lord Maith and I discussed poetry and unfortunate, if well intentioned, family gifts.
This evening the Baron, Half Colonel dh'Zhangain and Lady Rhainail played maistoto with the Dowager Countess, who very briefly lamented missing a planned maistoto tournament on the Empress Mhaihild. Mrs Gritteye was at dinner but did not join us in the balcony parlor afterwards. Lady Saidhelait poured tea for us with Miss Ghaighain, then she played shab-hab against Major Vhenghahair - possibly to see who would win best of three matches. I was introduced to a six-sided strategy game, with a hexagonal board and coloured stones as counters, called koh. The other players were Miss Ghaaighain, Lord Retneseri, Colonel Dhaiharai, Mr Rhaimghairn, and Captain Rhorsail, and I was the only one who hadn't played before. I believe I added some...randomness to a strategy game because I made moves that I knew I could do and made no mind about what would come after that. I did get eliminated before the end of the game, which means I definitely lost, but apparently I ruined two other people's carefully planned strategies which would have been great playing if I had known what I was doing and meant to do it.
Anadrasata Nearabhigan