Lyssandra & The Return of Lyssandra

by Richard Johnson

  The bandits ran, then before they reached the trees, the two women were there, bows drawn. “Alive!” I yelled so they sent a couple arrows to the ground before the bandits who paused, then formed a square with spears and shields outward. I had no intention of losing horses and men breaking that square so I led my men around them until we had the bandits boxed in. With our numbers about even, it was a stalemate. They knew that they were trapped but also knew we didn’t dare charge that wall of spears.

  “I am Lord Obrien, Guardian of Arabel! Surrender and lay down arms.”

  They wavered then one yelled something, “Captain, they called for us to take them,” one of my Hungarians translated. I’d eventually learn the languages but we’d only been there a week. I called to the Amazons and spoke to them, then they charged the square at a gallop then broke to the right and left, releasing arrows as they did. Their shafts passed over the men in the front of the square to kill two men facing away on the far side. They circled the bandits, just within our line and fired again, killing two more facing away. Shooting the men facing us would do little good for their large shields protected them, but in any square, the men on the far side exposed their backs which generally had little armour.

  By the time the third volley had killed the fifth and sixth men, the rest dropped spears and cried out their surrender. “Sergeant! Search them for weapons and let’s take them back to Arabel.” As this was done, the women cut their arrows from the bodies and I approached the Moslems. “Marhaba,” I called in Arabic. “We will escort you as far as you wish until we must turn aside for Arabel.” Then I called my men, “We are here to protect and escort civilians. So I expect you all to be polite to these people or face me!”

  Then with two upfront, two on each flank and the rest of my men guarding the surviving bandits, we returned to the city. By the time we arrived, the men and women had accepted each other as equals and were joking around, such is the bond of battle.

  After turning the prisoners over to the goal, I ordered a keg of beer to celebrate and watched the men and women bond as they drank, making certain that one keg wouldn’t get anyone drunk enough to do something stupid. I had one mug and watched carefully but couldn’t tell if the women were lovers or not so bade all a good-night and returned to my room. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to relax so strapping on my sword and dagger, went for a walk to further explore my new home.

  ***

  I was beginning to be able to tell the Serbs from the Slavs and so was able to greet each in their own tongue with few mistakes. That’s what I liked about this city. The streets were narrow and winding, the second floor often overlooked the streets and if you were observant, you could avoid the contents of the chamber-pots being tossed out the windows. But mostly the people were friendly and I stopped often to watch someone go about their business, asking an occasional question for all men love to talk about their work and enjoyed a stranger taking an interest in them. It made the peasants feel important. And for a Noble such as myself to speak to a peasant made them feel especially important.

  It was while passing one of the cheaper rooms when I heard the scream. I ran into the alley to find a man beating a woman, an action I quickly stopped. The woman was huddled on the ground, trying to protect herself as the man took a swing at me. I blocked, struck his bare throat and as he tried to breathe, demanded, “I am Captain Lord Obrien. Who are you and what is going on?”

  The man finally recognized me as one of the mercs and when he could talk, managed to croak, “My Lord, this whore robbed me. She deserves whatever I do to her.” He tried to continue but I stopped him. Then, bending down, saw she was bleeding and in no condition to speak so I asked the man, “How much did she take and be honest for I hate thieves no matter who steals from whom.”

  He started to say something, then saw me tapping the hilt of my sword and changed his mind, “Two silver dinar, my Lord.”

  I felt around, she crying in pain as I touched her, until I found the money. I looked it over then tossed him one dinar, “The beating you gave forfeits a dinar.” Then as he glared, “Be happy with what you have lest I remove that which caused this problem.” He grumbled more but walked away.

  Now what to do? If I leave her here, she’ll simply get robbed and raped and maybe sold if she is worth anything. Finally I picked her up and carried her to the local hospital, or what passes for a hospital in this place. It was essentially a convent where people went to die for the Church taught that bleeding and prayer was the solution to all ailments.

  I kicked the door open and called out, “A woman needs care!”

  One of the nuns, an older woman, bitter for giving her youth to Christ, a man who never visited, looked at the woman as I lay her on a table then spat through rotten teeth, “She is a whore and a Slav. She profanes God’s house. Take her back to the alley where she belongs.”

  “She is injured and needs care!” I insisted.

  “If you care for her so much, then you take her. We’ll have none of her kind here.”

  Christians! They talk a good talk but gladly kill any who refuse their masses. Having little choice, I had to take her to my room where I ordered the Keep to bring clean water and clean bandages. As I waited those, I stripped her and saw the ravages of her profession in the bruises and scars of her customers. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t overly old either, her hair showing some gray. Somehow in the ballads you hear, the woman is a misguided girl who only needs a good man to save her. In reality, that rarely happens.

  A careful examination showed no broken bones and surprise, her teeth were decent even. So I washed her down as best I could and sent her dress to be washed and mended. Then, making certain she wasn’t bleeding internally, I covered her and fell asleep in my chair.

  The next morning she was still asleep and looked like she would be so for some time so I had the Keep put a meal in my room for her with her dress and leaving instructions for his wife to check on her often and to not let her leave with any of my belongings, left for my Company.

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  CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

  I was singing as I returned home that night. The sun was shining, the birds singing and the merchant we had saved a couple days before had sent us a gift in gratitude. Even the men were accepting the women into their midst and I had a half dozen volunteers for my cavalry. All was well with the world.

  Until I entered my room.

  The woman was there and turned quickly around. Too quickly. She held both hands behind her and was obviously stealing from me and as I advanced, she pulled my spare eating knife from the table and threatened me. The fool. I easily took it from her then said, “If you are planning to knife a man, do it right.” And I placed the knife in her hand, curling her fingers around the handle properly.

  She lunged for me and I stepped aside, blocked and disarmed her, “No! You are off-balance. Don’t thrust with your body or you’ll fall over.” I showed her a few moves then said, “You seem to be healing nicely so you can go home now. AFTER you return my belongings.” As I said, I was in a good mood.

  She placed a small box on the dresser and ran from my room, never facing away from me. So I did a quick search to ensure that nothing else had been taken and locked up and went to dinner. Yes, this was a good day. Of course, in my profession any day you live is a good day.

  ***

  The next couple days were normal, I accompanied my men on Merchant patrol to get to know our charges for Arabel was a trading city and the merchants were the life of the city. In Arabel, there were a number of levels of merchants. The poorest lay their wares on an old blanket in an alley or street hoping for pennies. The richest owned their own warehouses and stores. Most either lived in the floor above their store or rented a space in the markets and set up a table and sun-shade. Some who were visiting lived in a tent behind and a part of their awning. It was here you could buy anything. It mattered not i
f you rented a whore to drop to her knees behind a curtain or hash from Syria or a chicken waiting the axe, or an amber and gold necklace from Poland, or a girl slave from Cathay, if you wanted it, someone would sell it to you. I loved the place.

  I also searched for herbalists and sorcerers, seeking information on those Witches I had rescued. I was surrounded by christians and it would be nice to share talk with my own kind.

  ***

  I was settling in for the night, a book and a glass of wine next to the lamp by the open window when I heard a tap at my door. Well, I had read Caesar before though the conjugations gave me trouble at times so standing, I answered the door to find myself facing the thief-whore. She started then curtseyed, poorly and said, “Excuse me My Lord, for interrupting you like this. But,” she paused, embarrassed, then, “May I enter?”

  I stepped aside and she entered, glanced around then stood there staring at her feet. I waited for a minute then asked, “And you wish what of me?”

  She stammered then when I bade her sit, she opened up, “My Lord, you were kind to me, and I betrayed your kindness. I’m sorry and wish I had never tried to rob you but I am poor and often a penny stolen here or there makes the difference between hunger and starvation.” She was speaking Serbian to me even though she was obviously a Slav.

  “My Lord, I am tired of being beaten and wish you to teach me how to defend myself. I can’t pay much but I can reward you in other ways.” She was playing with the drawstrings to her vest at that.

  “I’m not interested in that, preferring my women to be willing and actually interested in me over my purse.” I commented, becoming bored already.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord. It’s just that…. Well, the only thing men have ever wanted from me was when I lay on my back. But I’m serious. Please, someday some man will kill me and I’m afraid. I can clean for you! I hear you wash often and insist on being clean. I can do that for you. I can clean your bedding and clothing, clean your room for you, be your maid if you wish. Or, I hear that you walk the city, asking questions and seeking answers. I know Arabel and can be your guide. Please, My Lord, teach me to defend myself and I will do anything I can to pay you.”

  I lifted her face, the bruises fading and covered with too much cosmetics but still swollen. She had wrinkles at her eyes and gray in her hair so she wasn’t some child. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty, My Lord,” she answered.

  Thirty! Most people here are dead by then. “How long have you been in this business?”

  “Since I was fifteen, My Lord. Serbian soldiers raped me and when I went to the Watch, they laughed and kicked me into the street. Kosovo is ruled by Turk or Macedonain or Serb or sometimes Slav and only the Slavs consider me worthy of kindness. To the Serb, I am nothing but a plaything and can find no other employment or I starve.”

  “And family?”

  “None, My Lord. I never knew my father. My mother was … like me though she tried to make my life better. But she was killed when the Turks took the city and I was taken to suffer in the Caliph’s harem until the Slavs drove them out. My life is survival, little else.”

  Hmmm, you never knew if a whore was telling the truth or not. They think that if they give a sad story, they’ll get a tip. However, I was in a good mood, everything was going well lately so I figured, why not?

  “Ok, the first thing you need to learn is balance. Everything flows from balance. A man who thrusts with his body has power but is so unbalanced that simply stepping aside causes him to fall over and become helpless.” And I had her learn to stand and move while balanced, keeping her center of gravity low. Then after she could move decently, I had her breathe from her belly. “Our lungs are like a teardrop. When we expand out chest, we fill only the top third. But when we breathe from our belly as a baby does, we fill the lower 2/3s and so have twice the air we need to move. Best is a combination of both, belly then chest. Like this.”

  After an hour of this, she asked, “But when do I learn to defend myself?”

  “When you can remain on your feet.” And I slid her feet from under her. “Were you balanced, you wouldn’t have fallen, “ I commented as I helped her to her feet. “Meet me at my Company grounds tomorrow and we’ll cover more.”

  She left then and honestly I didn’t think she’d return.

  ***

  The next afternoon, she was there waiting for me. The men were commenting on her as they did to all the whores but she ignored them and waited for me to call her over. “I’m surprised you are here.”

  She curtseyed and replied, “My Lord, I am serious about this. That man wouldn’t have beaten me if I knew how to fight. Tell me what to do next.”

  “Join the others in line.”

  Erik and I spent the morning running the men through various drills from standing in a crouch, moving without falling over and how to hold the knife. “No! Thrust with your thumb. Brace along the guard. If you hold a kitchen knife like that and strike bone, your hand will slide along the blade and you’ll loose fingers.”

  We then broke for lunch and I noticed that the woman was sitting alone. Even the Amazons ignored her, giving her looks as if to say, “You betrayed your sex.” I called her over, “You never did tell me your name.”

  “Lyssandra Kosovonova, my Lord.”

  “And why are you not eating? You need your strength.”

  “I … I have no money. I’m too bruised to work.”

  I laughed, “Come with me.”

  The men gave a few calls as we walked away and when we entered my office, she looked to the floor and waited, doubtless waiting for me to take my pleasure with her. “Here,” I handed her cheese, bread and some jerky with a beer. She immediately fell to with a passion that implied that she hadn’t been eating well recently. Well, in her profession, men prefer youth. I ate my own share and noticed that she snuck portions into her skirt so I lay out all that I had and watched her eat until she was full.

  “Now for your payment. This is my office, keep it clean and organized but throw nothing away save garbage. You can do the same for my room tonight.” And I ignored her as I did that paperwork that is the bane of all officers. She didn’t have much to do as I keep things neat but I rarely dust. I snuck glances to her and saw that she was detailed and careful and when done, she looked for more to do so I suggested, “Time to return to the training field.”

  Another hour proved that the Amazons may be superb horsewomen and archers but their knife-fight skills lacked finesse. Approaching them, I directed, “Kill me!” Of course that was impossible but she laughed and tried. Her confidence a few days past making her clumsy and a second later she was on the ground with me on her back, her own knife at her throat. “Skill, people! If you cannot be bigger, be faster and if you cannot be faster, cheat!” I helped her to rise and called out, “Again!”

  Then, “Lyssandra! Are you having trouble?”

  “My dress is in the way. Maybe if I wore pants?”

  “Will you be wearing pants when attacked? We will but what of you? If you will be defending yourself in a dress, train in a dress!” Then, “Halt! No! You hold that knife like it was a meat cleaver. Do you stroke a man that way? Like this! Forefinger and thumb holds the handle, the rest control. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin and three inches to kill a man. Slash gently. A knife fight is vicious but done properly, can be poetry. Balance! Breathe! Relax! And slash! Better!”

  ***

  For the next week it went that way. She would arrive, practice with whomever was knife-training, clean my office, eat lunch, walk with me home, clean my room and clothes and leave. I also found that I enjoyed talking to her. Maybe it was because a whore who listens makes more money from a lonely john but she did listen and I found myself enjoying our meals for aside from Felix, there was no one with whom I could talk readily.

  We would walk the streets and she would say: “That house
was built by a rich merchant who lost all in a fire and now sells second-hand silk to recover his wealth.”

  “That woman pretends to be a lady but I remember when she sold herself to soldiers for pennies.”

  “This whole neighborhood was poor and burned in the last war so was rebuilt by the Boyer. They found a cellar filled with Greek wine in the construction and drank half before the Boyer found out and took the rest.”

  “See that man, the friar? He likes young boys but only if they squeal like a pig.”

  “There was once a Mosque here but they tore it down and used the stone to build the north wall.” The woman did know the city and I loved hearing her trivia and gossip as we walked.

  ***

  One night Felix had again, beaten me at chess and left when Lyssandra commented, “So many books. I’ve never seen so many. I cannot read myself and don’t know anyone who can. And that game, chess? You stare at the pieces for so long before you move. It is as if the entire world relied on that game.”

  “Chess is war, strategy. It forces me to think a dozen moves ahead and plan my attack with minimal loss of life. And reading is a joy. It’s getting late and you should leave.”

  She hesitated, taking her time then finally, “My Lord, it’s late and dark and I’m afraid. Can I sleep on your floor tonight? I promise I’ll be quiet and be not underfoot.”

  With no good reason to deny her, I handed her some extra blankets and she made herself a bed in a corner. “Good night. Thank you for this. No one has ever been so kind to me.”

  The next night the same thing happened, she killed time until it was too late to leave so finally I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She broke down crying, “My Lord, I have no place to live. I wanted your respect so I quit whoring and sought other work. But men want young girls as maids and cooks and women fear my profession will steal their men from their beds. So some days ago I was evicted for failure to pay rent. My landlord kept everything and I slept in an alley until… I was afraid. Please don’t make me sleep outside.”

  “Wait here.” And I left to the Common Room where I called the Inn-Keep over. “Send a man to find my Sergeant at my company outside the city’s East Gate. Tell him to be here in the morning with a couple of the lads, armed and armored. Oh, and until further notice, double my meals.”