Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  I listened, puzzled.

  “We have changed our traditions. We have learned to fight. We have lived beside men, abandoning the role of Festival in our personal relationships with them. After the invasion, we will resume our normal lives, but we will not be as we were before this summer. But in this time before the invasion, we must maintain the structures of authority in the village. Much of our autumn work awaits completion. In the fields and on the boats, authority still belongs to the masters of those trades, regardless of their position in our defensive cohorts. When this is finished, when the invasion is quashed, and the Empire is safe again, we will need to think about the future, and what it will look like. But not until then. Are there questions?”

  No one stood. Tice met my eyes, cocking an eyebrow in her usual unspoken question. I shook my head slightly. Had Gille meant to raise speculation?

  Sara stepped forward. She spoke of the tasks still needing to be done, the familiar autumn work: root vegetables to be dug, boats to be cleaned and repaired, cider apples to be pressed. The bulk of the harvest was done, thanks to the work of Skua’s crew. We would accomplish these remaining tasks in the afternoons and continue to drill in the mornings.

  Gille spoke again. “Casyn and I, with Dessa’s help,” she nodded toward the cohort-leader and master fisher, seated to her left, “have studied the tides, and the moon. We believe that the most likely time for the attack is between six and eight days from now, at dawn. The tide will be high and the moon set.” She paused. “We will use against them what they believe they are using against us: darkness and surprise. We will be waiting, armed and hidden. With luck and skill, they will never get past the beach.”

  I considered what Dern had told me about the catboats of Leste—keeled longboats, driven by oars and a single sail, that floated in less than three feet of water. At high tide, they could gain our harbour, which meant they would attack at full force. They would have no reason to send an advance party. Lestian catboats had come occasionally to trade with Tirvan, so they would know the harbour and expect no defence. Forty men against eighty women, skilled with bow and knife and with the advantage of surprise. I felt suddenly confident.

  Gille continued. “Cohort-leaders and seconds, please remain. The rest are needed in the fields and at the boats, but before you go, I would say one last thing. Women of Tirvan, we have a job to do. We have much at stake. We cannot slacken. The patrols and exercises must continue. We fight for our lives.” She paused, then continued in a voice softened by fatigue and sorrow. “You have done well, my friends. We will come through this, but not unscathed. Some of us will die. We will win our lives, but we will pay yet another, grievous price. Be brave, my friends, and strong.” She stepped back, her face drawn. I thought of what these weeks must have cost her. She had found brief solace with Casyn, both sharing the strains of leadership, and now he was gone.

  The hall emptied of everyone but the leaders and their seconds. I moved forward, to the inner ring of seats, with Tice beside me. When only the cohort-leaders remained, Gille began.

  “We have gone through the records for the last twenty years. Leste has sent boats thrice in that time, the last six years ago.” Heads nodded among the women. I remembered the boat, the graceful curved sides of the longboat and the carved leopard’s head on the prow. At eleven, I had found that of far more interest than the men who had sailed on her. “Casyn believes that it will be that boat’s captain who will steer his ship into our harbour, both for his knowledge of our waters and his memories of the village. They were here five days, and we took him and some of his men around the village to see fleeces and cloth and grain stores. Xani did some small repairs for them, so they’ll know where the forge is. The men traded freely for small items, pottery and jewellery and the like.”

  I saw the logic. The Lestians would leave a few men to defend the boat, moving the rest, under cover of darkness, up to the top of the village. They would then drive us down through the village to the harbour at first light, catch us between the invading force and the sea, giving us no choice but to surrender.

  “We’ll let them get themselves into position above the village,” Gille went on. “At that moment, the mounted cohort, who will be hidden and waiting by the shellfish ponds, will attack the men who stayed with the boat. Archers lying in wait in the net sheds will defend the riders. The men above the village will, we believe, rush back toward their boat through the centre of the village. The main path from the baths will be visible and clearly the fastest way to the harbour. We hope they will run that way, to be trapped on the path, with archers and mounted swordswomen below them, and the rest of us above, on foot and in the second floor of houses with bows and knives.”

  I nodded. Dern and I had spoken of this plan. The wattle fences around the path would not hold them for long, but in the confusion and surprise of those first few minutes, under an unanticipated attack, we would have the advantage. I shivered. I saw my cohort slipping through tunnel and loft, solitary and swift, to kill those who had escaped the battle. Assassins. I looked at Tice. All the laughter had gone from her. She sat still and hard and cold.

  “I’m not going to live in a cave!” Minna shouted. “I want my own bed and my chair.”

  “You must, Mother.” Her daughter tried to soothe her. “It’s for your safety, and it’s only for a few days.”

  “You must,” Gille echoed, her voice firm.

  “I won’t,” Minna said.

  Casse stood. “Let me try,” she said, looking to Gille for permission. Gille nodded, and Casse moved to stand in front of Minna. “Look at me, Minna,” she said. Minna obeyed. “Who am I?” Casse asked.

  “Casse,” Minna mumbled. “Council Leader.”

  “When we give the word, Minna, you will go to the caves,” Casse repeated calmly. “You are needed there, to help care for the babes and the new mothers. Do you understand?”

  Minna dropped her eyes. “Yes, Council Leader.”

  “You will not argue?”

  “I won’t,” Minna said. “I will go where I’m needed.”

  “Thank you, Minna.”

  “Thank you, Casse,” Gille murmured as Casse returned to her seat. “As I was saying, there is food aplenty in the caves, and straw and blankets and water. We cannot risk a fire, so you must huddle together for warmth and wrap the little ones well.”

  “I worry we can’t keep the children quiet,” Nessa said, jiggling her grizzling baby.

  “There is poppy, dissolved in wine. It can be given in sips, or rubbed on the gums for the littlest ones, just enough to keep them sleepy,” my mother said. “And Casyn warned the boys that any reports of disobedience would become part of their cadet records. I think they believed him.”

  “Pel certainly did,” Tali said. “Is there any fencing left to do or work on the tunnels?”

  “Nothing,” I said. The wattle panels already fenced the common and the path. We had dismantled the hunt enclosures, and some of the sheep pens, to do this, so that fresh wattle did not warn of recent change.

  “All the boats not fishing daily are anchored in the hidden cove,” Dessa reported. “There will only be a few left at the jetty, just enough not to look odd.”

  The meeting over, I had stood to leave when my mother called my name. Tice was waiting for me on the porch, so I signalled to her to wait before turning to my mother. She looked very tired, and spoke quietly. “Lena, there may be no other time to say this. Much has been asked of you this summer, losing Maya, being called to command so young and in such a role. I am proud of you. But I think you will soon have to make some terrible choices, with no one to advise you. You must always consider what course of action benefits the most. The village comes before the individual.”

  I found my voice. “Do you think I do not know my job, Mother? When have you had to make such a decision?” I heard my own words with an odd sense of detachment.

  “Many times, and your sister is learning, too.” Her voice was soft, but I saw a flash of
anger in her eyes. “When we had to choose, this summer, between saving both of Nessa’s twins and losing Nessa, or letting the second child die to keep Nessa and the first one safe, were we not making the same decision? For the village, a mother who will live to raise her child, and to work and to contribute and to bear more children if she wishes, is worth more than two babies. If the decision had been Nessa’s, she would have died to let both twins live.”

  I flushed. “Forgive me, Mother. I should not have said what I did.”

  “Kira cried for two days after that birthing, but you won't have that luxury. Nor do I think you have properly grieved for Maya. You will do what you need to do, but when this is over—and it will be over, soon—you need to grieve. For Maya, for our changed life, for the lives you will have taken and lost. If you do not grieve, Lena, you will break.”

  I could feel the tears threatening. I looked away. “Do your job,” my mother said.

  “I will,” I said softly, turning away.

  We rehearsed the attack, pulling two women from each cohort—different women, each day—to be the invaders. We practiced being still and keeping the ponies quiet. We practiced with sword and bow in the half-light of dawn and at dusk. We timed how long it took the mounted cohort to reach the harbour. We perfected signals—night bird calls, the bark of a fox. My cohort hid in lofts and tunnels and crawled and leapt and perfected landing on the balls of our feet, knives out, ready.

  On the third morning, just as the sun crested the ridge above the sheep pastures, a shout came from high in the hills. Horses, silhouetted against the sky: two with riders, the rest riderless but saddled and carrying packs. Gille, with her eyesight honed by years of herding and hunting, spoke. “The riders are women.”

  They clattered into the village, pulling up outside the hall where we had, by habit, gathered. The riders were not much older than I. They wore their long hair tied back, carrying swords in scabbards on the saddles, shields on their backs, and spears in their hands. The horses they sat on were muscled, conditioned, and disciplined. Warriors. I tried not to stare.

  Gille stepped forward. “Welcome to Tirvan.”

  The riders dismounted. The shorter of the two women spoke. “I am Dian, and this is Rasa. We come from Han village, in the grasslands. Four weeks ago, the three grasslands villages met in joint council to determine our role in fighting Leste. We decided that half of us would go to the coastal villages to add to the defence. The others would stay to act as a rearguard against any Lestians who might slip through the coastal defences. We brought what horses we could.”

  The grasslands villages bred and trained the majority of the horses for the army. The villages raised cattle, too, making, from the tanned hides, the saddles and bridles for the Empire. Horses, beef, and harness. For everything else, they traded.

  “Thank you,” Gille said. “We welcome your assistance. I am Gille, council leader; Sara and Gwen make the three. And this is Grainne. She leads the mounted cohort. We expect attack within three days.”

  Dian nodded. “We had hoped to be on time.”

  “Grainne, your cohort is excused from field duty,” Gille said. “For the rest of us, to work!”

  As we dug root vegetables that afternoon, the women of the mounted cohort learned to control the warhorses in the lower pasture. Han had sent six horses, plus the two Dian and Rasa rode. That meant we now had ten horses trained to war, as Casyn and Dern had left their horses with us when they sailed. The hunt ponies would now, I surmised, be ridden only by the smallest women.

  In the late afternoon, we called a halt to the harvest, ate a quick snack, and, as the evening deepened, took our places once again to rehearse the defence of Tirvan. I slipped into the loft above the forge, sliding open the ventilation window. From here, I had an almost unobstructed view of the village. I settled down on my heels to wait.

  The night call of a thrush, repeated twice, sang through the dusk. From the harbour, I could see the group who represented the Lestians moving up to the top of the village. I waited. When they gathered above the houses, I barked twice, and then twice again, the sharp sound of a fox on its evening hunt. The horses erupted from the scrub that hid the shellfish ponds, their riders shouting, spears held high. The group of women above the village drew their weapons as they ran toward the harbour.

  All but one. She turned away from the group, beginning to run toward the forge and the waterfall. I dropped silently through the trap door onto the bedroom floor below, creeping out the door to the small porch. As she passed the corner of the cottage, I leapt, knife in hand, and brought her down. I felt the resistance and strength in her muscled body, but when my knife found her throat, she capitulated. Dian.

  I squatted beside her as she caught her breath. “Well done,” she said, sitting up and pushing her black hair back. “I thought I would test your defences. I wouldn’t be sure that all the men will immediately return to the boat. One or two may realize it’s a trap and do what I did. You’re well prepared,” she said ruefully, brushing the dust from her hands. “Now what do you do?”

  “Move down through the village, to help where I’m needed.”

  “Then do it,” she said. “I’m dead. Take my knife and go.”

  I hesitated, then took the knife from her belt, slipping it into mine. I moved away, using bushes and boulders as cover, heading for the stream and the willows.

  An hour later, we met in the council hall to discuss the evening over tea. I found Dian and returned her knife. “Would you eat with me?”

  “Surely,” she said, “after I have seen to the horses and bathed. Rasa has much to talk about with Grainne, so I’ll be glad of the company.”

  I told her how to find Tali’s house and left for the baths myself. Twenty minutes later, I walked down to Tali’s. I had slept at the forge cottage for the past few nights but didn’t bother to cook for myself. Tali had stew simmering, and there was bread on the table.

  “I asked Dian to eat with me.”

  “There’s plenty,” Tali said. “I’ve eaten, and I’m going to help Rette string herbs for drying. There’s cider if you want it.”

  I found the cider, poured a small amount, taking it out on the porch to wait for Dian. She came about forty minutes later, her hair newly braided and clean.

  “Your baths are wonderful,” she said, accepting a mug of cider. “We have nothing like them in Han.”

  I ladled bowls of stew and cut bread. We sat at the kitchen table to eat. The stew was venison, the last of the fresh meat from the hunt, redolent of herbs, with a rich, thick gravy.

  “Dian,” I said, “I really could have killed you this afternoon.”

  She nodded, her mouth full of stew. A moment later, she spoke. “I know. I could see it in your eyes. For a moment, I was actually frightened.”

  “I didn’t realize…the training takes over. It’s all reflex, and no thought, except to stay alive. It’s so—cold.”

  “If it wasn’t, I doubt we could do it. If one of our horses breaks a leg, we cut its throat immediately, or we will have second thoughts. We would try to save it and just extend its suffering. And that too feels cold. All killing must.”

  I nodded. “Are your horses all right?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Fine. The barn is clean and airy, and we brought extra grain with us. Tell me, what did you think of Casyn?”

  I looked up from my stew, surprised. “How did you know he was here?”

  “His horse. We bred him at Han. The mare I ride is from the same dam. Casyn visits Han every few years to buy horses, and he has two daughters there. He wanted to buy my mare last time—she was still a foal then—but she had been promised to me as my coming-of-age gift.”

  “Casyn was born here,” I said. “He was the right man to send to Tirvan.” A thought struck me. “Is that what was done, all over?”

  “I think so,” Dian said. “The man who came to work with us is my uncle, my mother’s brother.” She looked at me steadily for a minute. “
It was easier for us, I think. We are half-trained in warfare already, to prepare the horses.”

  “You look like warriors. We only hunt,” I added, “but we have learned.”

  “You have,” she said. “I am impressed. And your mounted cohort ride well. They have good balance, which isn’t surprising, being used to hunting in these hills.” She sipped her cider.

  “How long did it take you to reach us?”

  “Three weeks. But we didn’t come directly here. When we left the grasslands, there were eighteen of us and seventy-two horses. We stayed together on the road, with smaller groups breaking off on the byways to the villages. We left the last two, heading north to Delle, four days ago.”

  “Did you stop at the inns?”

  “Sometimes,” Dian said. “Although we made camp more often, and picketed the horses. The inns can’t cope with large numbers. But we stopped for water or to buy cheese or bread.” She looked at me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  I hesitated. “My partner, Maya, chose exile, rather than learn to fight. She is out there, somewhere, alone. I was hoping you had seen her. She’s about your height, with long dark hair and hazel eyes.”

  Dian remained silent for a minute. “Not I,” she said finally, “but Rasa is the best bargainer amongst us, so she went most often to the inns. I’ll ask her. Maya is unlikely to be alone, Lena. In almost every village, one or two women made that choice. No one did from Han, but from Rigg, the village just to our north, three went. They will find each other on the road.” She put down her cup. “Thank you for the food. I sleep at Grainne’s cottage.”

  I said goodnight, watching her walk up the path. They will find each other on the road. A certainty settled inside me about what I would do after the invasion. I stayed outside in the warm night for a long time, looking west, up to the hills, and the road that ran beneath the glittering stars.