Tales of the Queendom of Maadre

by Barbara G. Tarn

  "I only want to go to the arena every day and pour out the anger," Jessamine grumbled with a lump in her throat.

  "Keldar is dead, and you can't kill him again," Ileana said patiently. "You can only hurt yourself. You're precious, Jess, too precious to die now. We already had four years without you. Joelia is too young to become queen, so please, calm your anger and your sorrow, and try to enjoy the life you still have in front of you."

  Jessamine pondered, staring into emptiness.

  "All right," she said. "Find me the most handsome man in the country, and I'll see what I can do."

  ***

  The edict traveled throughout the country: women were invited to elect the most handsome man. Local beauty contests would lead the winners to Maadre for a final vote.

  Jessamine left the contest into Ileana's hands. She kept an eye on the children and one on her queenly duties without bothering with the first beauty contest of the country. She had abolished the Modesty Cloth, thus men would show off in public squares, trying to gather votes through shiny muscles and minimal clothing.

  A couple of months later the finalists reached the capital, but she didn't go to see them, leaving to her subjects the honor of picking up the winner.

  Finally Ileana brought her the beauty king. He was a blond twenty-year-old with blue eyes, his forehead furrowed by worry: he was intimidated by his new charge.

  Jessamine smiled at him, softened. He looked like an overgrown child and reminded her of Carino. Her brother had been killed during the assault on Keldar's castle and never made it back to the Amazons country.

  Ileana must have noticed the resemblance too, as she looked upset when she introduced Massimo to Jessamine. Maybe all the women of the capital were unconsciously in love with the queen's late brother, so they had picked somebody who looked like him in his memory.

  "This is the most handsome man of the Queendom," Ileana said formally.

  "Thank you, Ileana." Jessamine let her go and signaled the young man to join her on her garden bench. He obeyed, looking both hopeful and adoring. Just like Aster.

  "Where were you born?" she asked.

  "Up north, near the coast where the Kelvans landed a few years ago," he answered. "My mother was one of the first to fall under their swords. I wished I could fight back and avenge her, but I'm only a Public Man and weaponry isn't one of my skills. I know that bastard of their king humiliated you for a long time, my queen, but you took his life in return."

  "True," she grinned. "Would you like to learn to fight?"

  "I know I was chosen for my good looks, but I wouldn't be afraid to ruin them in the Arena."

  She averted her eyes, thoughtful. The Arena. Notturno and his scars. Carino killed because he wasn't a skilled fighter. Should she abdicate and let her sister rule, retiring to mourn her dead? Poor Joelia would never allow her, though. She was already looking forward to being queen.

  "There won't be any more invasions," she said. "But I like to exercise, you can be my sparring partner if you want."

  "I'd love to!" He beamed. Then was serious again. "Will that be all?"

  She smiled against her will.

  "No. I promised Ileana to have another baby," she said.

  He nodded. He seemed to understand.

  "I'll be honored to be by your side," he said,

  "Thank you. You have the rest of the day to check the Apartment. I'll see you tonight."

  He got to his feet, bowed and left. She followed him with her eyes and sighed. Her sister had been regent during her captivity, and not everybody had been happy with her government. Jessamine should forget her personal losses for the good of her country. Massimo's youth (and the resemblance with Carino, maybe she could give him to Ileana afterward) could help her, but mostly she should find the strength within herself.

  THE END

  ***

  Aknowledgments

  The author would like to thank the readers of Serial Central, the Rome Regulars and the four members of Enigma 23 at David Farland's Writers Forum for their comments and critiques.

  The Tiger

  Miria was thirteen when she found a tiger cub on her aunt's southern estate. She was taking a break from city life and enjoying the luxuriant garden that naturally merged with the nearby jungle, when the pitiful meows attracted her attention. Mother tiger and a pair of cubs lay dead next to the feeble little animal, and Miria took it home, nursing it back to health, to the horror of her elder sister Doriana who didn't think an Amazon princess should take on a wild animal as a pet.

  "But look, he's like the cats we have in Maadre!" Miria said, trying to convince both her sister and her aunt.

  "Wait until it grows," Doriana retorted. "I doubt Mother will let you take it to the royal palace!"

  Miria stuck her tongue out at Doriana. She knew her mother wouldn't deny her.

  Four years later the tiger cub had become a big cat with fangs that obeyed only her. Since at the royal palace of Maadre they were sick of feeding a tiger in the menagerie, the Queen decided to assign her daughter to a province – which would keep the domesticated wild beast away from the capital.

  Miria was seventeen. The southern town was close to the jungle where she'd found her pet, so for both it was like going back home. The palace was inside walls and had only a small inner garden, but Miria could just walk out of the walled city and enter the jungle where she could hunt with her friend.

  Those who hoped to manipulate her on behalf of her youth soon realized that Miria was strong-minded and true to Amazonia's blood. She was probably more fit to be Queen than Doriana, the heiress. Used to doing what she pleased, she didn't really listen to elders' advice. But since she was young, she was more interested in hunting with her friend than the power games of a palace. As long as the women paid their taxes and respected each other, she left them alone. When they tried to force something on her, she denied them.

  In a few months she was nicknamed The Tiger, and not only for her pet. Miria exercised constantly, was more a Soldier than an Aristocrat and could beat veterans twice her age. Before leaving Maadre, her favorite sport had been fighting in the Arena and she wasn't going to let province life soften her.

  One day she went hunting with her pet. Her prey was still animals, for her table and her four-legged friend, since she didn't consider men much. She'd had a Rite at fourteen, since she'd been too busy being a tomboy instead of exploring sex, and had even given birth to a boy who hadn't survived, but she hadn't been dazzled by any male beauty yet.

  Chatter and laughter caught her attention along with gurgling water, and Miria moved through the luxuriant vegetation towards the sounds. The tiger, that she'd named Fang, followed her quietly. Staying hidden in the undergrowth, she observed with curiosity four young men bathing in the pond at the foot of a waterfall.

  The four were slaves or servants since they all wore the same bracelet, but their happiness had exploded under the sun as they swam and dove and showered each other with bursts of laughter. Obviously their weekly bath in the pond was something they enjoyed more than going to the public bath in town. They didn't seem worried by the thought of wild beasts hunting – probably knowing that tigers usually hunted at night and it was plain daylight.

  The town must be very close, though, if they'd come that way. Miria didn't know her way very well yet, but Fang always found the way back to the palace for her. The tiger grumbled while she stared at the young men, as if to tell her to get moving, that the prey wasn't interesting enough to eat. Except of course, she didn't want to eat them.

  One of the young men came out of the water and walked towards her, oblivious. Their clothes were on her side of the clearing and he picked up a towel, shaking his head from the water before drying his face and neck.

  Miria stared at his naked wet body, his clean-shaven face, his shoulder-length brown hair, his blue eyes, his sweet smile – and decided she must have him.

  She whispered an order in Fang's ear and the big feline moved quietly while the
young man put on his breeches, ignoring his friends' call.

  Miria moved to catch his attention – still hidden in the undergrowth – and he turned her way, startled, but curious. He cautiously stepped into the jungle, trying to see what was hiding among the trees, and Fang leaped in front of him, roaring.

  The young man gasped and backed away, bumping into Miria who had come out of the bushes behind him.

  "Don't worry," she said, showing him her dagger. "I'll take care of that wild beast."

  He didn't have any weapon, so he let her move in front of him. Miria used her most threatening body position – arms wide and ready, blade forward, legs solidly stuck to the ground – and moved the dagger towards the tiger, winking at Fang who roared again.

  Miria stomped her foot impatiently and Fang left with a bored look on its striped furry face, hiding in the jungle again.

  Miria turned to face the young man with a bold grin.

  "Done! As you can see, you only need to show who's stronger. If you show fear, you're dead meat."

  "Thank you, my lady," he said, serious. "I'm sure having a dagger helps."

  "Oh, aren't we smart, boy? Did you see me use my dagger?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. They were the same height and up close he was even more appealing.

  "No," he said, lowering his eyes.

  "So, how are you going to thank me for saving you?" she continued, crossing her arms on her chest. "Show me some gratitude."

  "I can't, my lady. I'm a Public Man, and can do it only at my mistress's bidding. But if you visit me at the Public House, I promise you won't regret it."

  "What do they call you?" she asked, a little disappointed. She knew better than force herself on a Public Man.

  "Sole," he answered.

  "Very well, Sole, see you soon," she said, letting him go.

  She lost interest in the hunt and went back to her palace to inquire on how many Public Houses were in the city. In Maadre there were plenty, but this city was much smaller and there was just one. Miria ignored the puzzled looks of her attendants' faces and sent out her request.

  ***

  "Sole to the palace," the owner of the Public House announced.

  "Me?" Sole asked, incredulous.

  Nobody had been honored that much so far. None of the men had seen the new woman in charge yet. They said she was a tiger of a woman, and they thought she'd brought her own bed slaves from the capital. After all, she was also the Queen's daughter. She probably had an Apartment full of men.

  Sole prepared for the meeting, a little disappointed. What if the blonde girl he'd met in the jungle showed up and asked for him while he wasn't there? Would she wait or come back or simply vanish? Hopefully she won't come today, he told himself.

  The blonde Huntress had caught his attention with her short hair, round breasts and muscled arms – but mostly her dazzling grin – and he was happily surprised to discover she was actually the new woman who had requested him. She was much younger than expected and so beautiful she took his breath away.

  "Forgive me, my lady, if I had known who you were, I would have given you what you asked for immediately," he said, knowing a Princess should never be denied anything. But in his twenty years, he'd never met a Princess who was also a Huntress – and a solo Huntress in spite of her youth. Younger Huntresses usually followed their mothers or hunted in groups of three or four.

  "Really?" she teased. "With that tiger nearby you'd have been able to perform?"

  "I'd forgotten about the tiger," he replied, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "And I'm sure we'll be much more comfortable here."

  She giggled. She wore a sleeveless short tunic that showed her long legs. In spite of the short hair, she looked very feminine, reclined on a canopied bed.

  "I've bought you," she said. "You're mine now. You better show me you're worth it."

  "Of course, my lady." He smiled. "What should I call you, Mistress...?"

  "Miria."

  "Mistress Miria, I'm at your service." He couldn't believe his luck. His new mistress was young and gorgeous. He felt already madly in love with her.

  "I've been told you're an expert," she said, serious now. "I hope it's true. I didn't enjoy the Rite, so you better convince me you're a good addition to my bed."

  Sole bowed and she motioned him to join her on the silken bedcover and pillows.

  Sole took her in his arms and kissed her gently, going as slowly as he could to make sure she was very aroused when he gave her what she wanted.

  She moaned and panted and held him tight and eventually fell asleep against him with a satisfied smile. As he dozed off, he felt like the luckiest man in the country.

  ***

  Miria wasn't in love with Sole, but she enjoyed his company. When Fang died of a mysterious sickness, Miria cried on Sole's shoulder. His devotion to her was very similar to the big feline's.

  Those were the last tears of the Queen's daughter. She was nineteen. Sole was her shadow, adoring her in silence. After him, Miria tried other men, but her Apartment remained empty – except for Sole.

  Her mother called her back to the capital and she brought Sole with her. Queen Lionora was happy to see Fang had been substituted by a young man who had even given Mira a daughter, therefore she told Miria she could do as she pleased.

  By then Miria had made up her mind. She'd become a Huntress and start going after Uncatchables. So she left her child at the palace and started wandering in search of those rebellious men who refused to submit to female rule, with Sole as her only companion. Much like she'd done with Fang, her hunts were mostly solitary – Sole was useless outside of the bedroom, but going back to his arms felt good. And he was very good at doing massages on sore muscles.

  One day she heard of a man hiding in the forest north of Maadre, but tried in vain to capture him. She saw him, tried to trap him, but the dark-haired young man ran away as soon as he saw her and knew the forest better than her.

  Since she didn't have Fang to help her follow tracks and find the way back, she decided to try something different – again using her only companion.

  "Sole, you will be the bait. Go to him and keep him busy until I manage to restrain and capture him."

  Sole didn't look convinced, but he obeyed, as usual.

  ***

  When the Uncatchable saw Sole walking warily towards him, he didn't run away. He gave Sole the once-over and grinned before stepping forward to meet him.

  He was taller than Sole who stopped, wondering what the rebel had seen in him. He hoped his beloved mistress could get what she wanted before he found himself in an unpleasant situation with another man.

  "Hello gorgeous, are you lost?" the Uncatchable asked, stepping so close that Sole backed away, ending up trapped against a tree.

  "Um... yes," he answered, a little worried by the lust in the other young man's eyes. He wasn't lost, since he was playing the bait, but his concern was real. He prayed the Goddess that Mistress Miria would save him again from the wild beast on two legs in front of him.

  "Have you run away from the wicked women?" the other inquired, caressing his clean-shaven cheek and hair.

  "I don't know," he answered, trying to get away from the other's reach.

  "I promise you'll love it," the other said, blocking him against the tree. He leaned to kiss Sole, but Miria's rope squeezed his neck, pulling him away from Sole.

  Sole watched wide-eyed as the Uncatchable struggled in vain against Miria. Soon the dark-haired young man's arms were tied up and he sent a string of curses to Mistress Miria that made Sole shiver.

  "Thank you, Sole," she said, pulling her prey to his feet with a satisfied smile.

  Sole smiled back, glad she'd saved him from embarrassment.

  "You traitor!" the prisoner said through clenched teeth, glaring at Sole.

  "Move." Miria pushed him forward. "I saw him first, so don't even think you can touch him."

  The Uncatchable thinned his lips and allowed her to lead hi
m back to the closed wagon she was traveling in.

  "Sole, take us back to Maadre," she ordered, entering the wagon with her prey.

  Sole went to sit at the front, feeling relieved. They were going home, and her latest toy wouldn't last, like the others. He was sure of that.

  ***

  The Uncatchable was named Selvatico and Miria enjoyed taming him. The young man still preferred Sole to her, so it took time, but eventually she broke him. She was twenty and became addicted to hunting men.

  Soon Sole was forgotten as she traveled the country looking for the wildest and most untamable men – alone. She usually brought them back to Maadre to resell them either tamed or broken, and never stayed long enough to visit her still empty – except for Sole – Apartment.

  Until she got tired of the new sport and remembered her meek lover. She went to see him, and found him bedridden, sick and heartbroken. He died in her arms, feeling blessed she'd remembered him. Miria never found another man who loved her so faithfully and completely like Sole, the father of her firstborn.

  The Painter

  Briella held her breath as the river barge slowly approached Maadre. It was the biggest town she'd ever seen, built at the crossing of two great rivers, with the mountains in the background wrapping around it like a horseshoe. The capital of the Queendom looked majestic, bathed in sunlight as if blessed by the Goddess herself.

  Briella exhaled. Her long journey was almost done. From her northern town, Fianna, she'd taken a wagon to the coast, then a ship along the coast to the estuary of the river where the city of Danae stood, and now the river barge that had slowly gone up against the current through a luxuriant green jungle that had filled her with awe.

  She'd been happy whatever noises came from the jungle stayed in the jungle, and that crocodiles couldn't climb on board. Even the plants sent strange smells over the water as green as the trees reflected upon it.