The Horsemasters

by Joan Wolf

  She sniffled. “Of course I can.” A spark of indignation colored her voice. “In fact, I already have.”

  “Once?” Now he was the one to sound indignant. He raised himself on his elbow and stared down into her face. “You came all this way, for once?”

  She smiled up at him. “I thought you were tired.”

  He spent a good part of the night demonstrating that he was not.

  * * * *

  Siguna’s night was different from the other women’s, but in its own way, it was exciting. Arika was in an unusually garrulous mood, and she and Siguna sat up by the light of the stone lamp and talked for hours. The Mistress was particularly interested in the details of Siguna’s life with the Horsemasters.

  “He is a terrible man, your father,” Arika commented when Siguna had finished an anecdote. “Hard and merciless. Yet you care for him.”

  “I suppose he is those things,” Siguna said unwillingly. She rested her chin upon her updrawn knees. “But he can be more tender than any woman. He was so to me, often. Perhaps it was because my mother died, and in his own way he tried to make that up to me, but he let me do things that none of the other girls were allowed to do. And he wouldn’t let Teala pick on me.” She smiled. “Once, when I fell and cut my leg badly and had a fever”—she ran her forefinger up and down the place on her calf where the old scar was—”he even let me sleep next to him, and he told me funny stories to cheer me up.”

  Arika said, “Perhaps he favored you because he saw that you were like him.”

  “Na,” Siguna said, misunderstanding. “I am said to look just like my mother.” She ran her finger once more over the place on her leg where the scar was. “Do you know,” she said thoughtfully, “I have sometimes thought that if my father had been reared in the ways of the Red Deer, he would have been like Ronan?”

  Arika reached out and carefully repositioned the single stone lamp. She said, “And I have sometimes thought that Ronan could be like your father.”

  The eyes of the two women, old and young, met and held.

  “But he is not,” Siguna said.

  “He is not,” Arika agreed. “That he is not, I attribute principally to Nel.”

  Siguna smiled a little sadly. “I have never seen a man so entwined with one woman as Ronan is with Nel.”

  Arika’s eyebrows lifted in a gesture that was purely ironic. “I think I can safely say that at one time or another Ronan was ‘entwined’ with every unmarried girl in his age group. He was not always so exclusively attached to Nel.”

  For some reason, Siguna suddenly remembered the sounds that would come from her father’s sleeping space when he lay with one of his women, Then she remembered the way Ronan had once looked at her, and her stomach fluttered.

  Arika was going on, “Although I will admit that Nel influenced him even when she was yet a child. In taking care of her, he learned tenderness.”

  Siguna bent her head, afraid of what Arika might read on her face. When the Mistress changed the subject, Siguna was at once both relieved and sorry.

  “Why did you ride into the forest on the day that you were captured?” Arika asked.

  Siguna gathered her thoughts. “I don’t know. I just felt that I had to get away from the other women.” She frowned in an effort of memory. “I felt…suffocated.”

  “What led your steps along that particular path?”

  “I don’t remember. I think I just let my mare wander.”

  Arika smiled, as if satisfied by the response.

  Silence fell in the Mistress’s hut. Arika made no movement toward her sleeping place, however, so Siguna said tentatively, “May I ask you a question, Mistress?”

  “Sa.”

  “How does the Tribe of the Red Deer differ from the other tribes that follow the Mother?”

  Arika settled herself more comfortably on her buffalo rug. “Mother-right reigns in all the lands of the Goddess,” she explained, “but only the Tribe of the Red Deer has a woman chief.”

  “I do not think I understand what you mean by mother-right,” Siguna said. “I know that Berta comes from a tribe that is ruled by a male chief, but I do not understand how a tribe that is ruled by a man can be said to follow mother-right. “

  “Mother-right means that the blood of a Family, as well as its goods, is passed on from mother to daughter, not, as in your tribe and in the tribes that follow Sky God, from father to son,” Arika said, thus neatly explaining the system of living that would one day be called matrilineal.

  “You mean a family’s belongings…the household goods…the tools…the horses even…belong to the women?” Siguna asked incredulously.

  The Mistress smiled faintly at the look on Siguna’s face. “Surely, this is only sensible if you want to keep an inheritance within the family,” she said reasonably. “Motherhood is certain; fatherhood is not.”

  Siguna blinked.

  “In the tribes of the Goddess,” Arika continued, “it is the woman who is head of the family. A mother will share her home with her daughters, her daughters’ husbands, and her daughters’ children. And it is the mother, the matriarch, who will have the final word in all family affairs.”

  Siguna thought of the men of her tribe and could not imagine them consenting to live in such a way. She said, “But what of the sons?”

  “When a son marries, he goes to live in his wife’s home with his wife’s family.”

  “And the men of the Goddess consent to do this?”

  “Why should they not? The authority of the mother is as natural to them as the authority of the father is to your people.”

  A little silence fell as Siguna digested this idea. Then she asked, “But even under the law of mother-right, you said most tribes are ruled by a chief?”

  “Sa.”

  “Why is that, I wonder?” Siguna asked.

  “I have often wondered that myself,” Arika confessed. “I had a long discussion recently with Berta, and she said that it was because so much of a woman’s life is spent in the bearing and nursing of children. When the cares of the immediate family are so physically demanding, it is difficult for a woman to take upon her shoulders the rule of the entire tribe as well.”

  “It is certainly true that men spend less time and effort on children than women do,” Siguna said, half-humorously, half-ruefully. She clasped her hands around her knees and looked at Arika’s lamplit face. “But the Tribe of the Red Deer is different.”

  “Sa. For as long as people remember, the Tribe of the Red Deer has been ruled by a woman.”

  “Why is that, Mistress?

  “I do not know, Perhaps somewhere in the past a matriarch decided she would not marry, that she would take the rule into her own hands, and it has remained that way ever since.”

  “Is it a law that the Mistress may not marry?”

  Arika gave Siguna a sharp look. “Why do you ask that?”

  Siguna looked with grave attention at the tips of her moccasins. “I had heard somewhere that Nel was to be the next Mistress, but that she gave up her chance when she married Ronan.”

  Silence.

  “I think it is true that Nel is beloved of the Mother,” Arika said at last. “But she does not have it in her to be the Mistress.”

  “Why?” Siguna asked.

  “It is as you said earlier. She is too entwined with Ronan. The tribe would never come first with her.”

  “I see,” Siguna said slowly.

  “The Tribe of the Red Deer is very close to the Mother,” Arika said. “I feel that deeply. And the Mistress of the tribe is the closest of all. The Mistress can have no husband to divide her loyalties or to divert her power into his own hands,” Arika’s hand lifted instinctively to touch the pendant she wore always around her neck. “This is why it is so important to me to preserve our matriarchy. Something unique and sacred will be lost if ever the Red Deer comes to be ruled by a man.”

  “Even if that man himself worships the Goddess?” Siguna asked.

 
; Arika’s reddish brown eyes glowed in the light of the stone lamp. “Even if that man were the son of the Mistress herself.” A beat of silence. “Even if that man were Ronan.”

  Arika’s finger continued to caress the ivory pendant upon which was drawn the great-bellied shape of a woman about to give birth. “I am not young any longer,” she said, “and I have lost both my daughter and Nel. At night I lie awake and wonder who is to succeed me.”

  “You have a son,” Siguna said softly. “It is in my heart that Nel would come back if Ronan could come with her.”

  Arika shook her head. “Ronan is a man whose nature demands that he take the lead.” She smiled a little bitterly and admitted, “He is too much like me. If Nel became the Mistress, Ronan would rule the tribe. And I do not want that.”

  Siguna was watching the ivory pendant that lay against Arika’s breast, “is there no other woman of your blood you can call upon, Mistress?”

  Arika laced her fingers together and regarded them thoughtfully. “I have been thinking of late that the next Mistress does not necessarily have to be of my blood,” she said. “Years ago, when Alin, the Chosen One, was seduced away from us by the chief of the Horse, the Mistress chose a girl of different blood to rule after her. That girl was Elen, who was my mother.”

  Arika paused, and Siguna nodded to show that she was following.

  “I have been thinking,” said Arika, “that to make up for Alin’s loss, the Mother has sent us you.”

  Siguna’s eyes stretched wide. “Me?”

  “It was the Mother’s call you heard the day that you rode into the forest,” Arika said with sublime certainty. “Have you not felt that?”

  “Sa,” Siguna whispered. “I have felt that.”

  “You have your father’s strength in you, Siguna; and you have some of his ruthlessness, too. That is good. The Mistress must sometimes be pitiless when she carries out what is her duty. You understand this. You understand the sacredness of duty. I saw that when you undertook to search the bodies in the gorge.”

  “But I am not a member of your tribe!”

  “You could be,” Arika said, “if you wished to be.” A beat of silence. “Do you, Siguna?”

  “Sa.” Once again the answer was but a whisper. “I want to very much.”

  Arika smiled as if she were not surprised.

  * * * *

  Siguna thought she would never fall asleep, so many thoughts were teeming in her brain. She finally drifted off, only to be awakened shortly after dawn by the sound of raised voices.

  Arika had awakened even before she had; Siguna saw her figure at the hut’s door. “Come,” she said over her shoulder to Siguna, “it looks as if Tyr has brought in one of your father’s men.”

  Fully awake by now, Siguna scrambled to her feet, found her moccasins, and followed Arika out the door.

  There was a small group of men standing in front of the tent Siguna knew belonged to Ronan. Siguna recognized Tyr and two other men of the Red Deer, but the one her eyes flew to was the defiant young man who was standing in the midst of the other three, with his hands bound behind his back. It was her brother, Vili. With a startled cry, Siguna ran forward, calling his name.

  “Siguna!” Vili was more surprised to see her than she was to see him. “We thought you were dead!”

  “No,” she answered him in their own tongue. “I was captured while I was out in the forest. What happened to you? Why are you here?”

  “Father sent me to scout along this river. Like you, I was captured.” Vili cursed and sent a furious look toward Tyr. “They were watching for us.”

  “You weren’t alone?”

  Vili shook the blond head that was so like their father’s. “No. Luckily, Bragi got away.”

  The three men of the Red Deer had been listening in uncomprehending silence to this conversation, and now Tyr looked toward the tent in front of which they were standing and said, with obvious relief, “Ronan! Look what we found in the forest.”

  Siguna’s head snapped around in time to see Ronan straightening up from the tent opening. He was not wearing his headband, and his black hair streamed around his face. He was shoeless and shirtless, wearing only buckskin trousers that had obviously been pulled on in a hurry. He pushed his fingers through the loose hair on his forehead and surveyed Vili from head to toe. He spoke to Siguna without looking at her. “You know him?”

  “Sa. He is my brother.”

  “It’s obvious he was sent here to spy on us.” Ronan’s eyes had never left Vili. “Was he alone?”

  When Siguna didn’t answer, Tyr did. “We didn’t see any others, but I doubt it.”

  At last Ronan turned his head to look at Siguna. She stared back, her face suddenly stricken, and said nothing. After a moment he said, “Never mind, I know the answer already. Your father would never have sent him alone.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, thrusting it back off his face, and turned to say something else to Tyr.

  Siguna stared at Ronan, at the tangled black hair that was clinging to the strong, tanned neck, at the smoothly muscled shoulders and upper arms, at the wide chest, the flat stomach and narrow hips. Deep inside her, something rippled.

  “Who is he?” Vili asked her urgently, inclining his head toward Ronan.

  “Their kain,” Siguna replied. Then, when Ronan looked at her inquiringly, she said, “He wanted to know who you were. I said you were the chief.”

  There was the soft rustling sound of door skins being pushed back again, and then Nel was with them. She had taken more time to dress than her husband; only her unbraided hair betrayed her hurry. Ronan said to her, “It’s Siguna’s brother. Tyr caught him scouting us.”

  The beautiful flush of rose in Nel’s cheeks disappeared. Ronan slipped his hand under the silken fall of her hair and rested it reassuringly on her nape. The two large wolfdogs came padding out of the hut to stand by her side.

  “Was he alone?” Nel asked her husband.

  “He won’t say, but of course he wasn’t alone.”

  “We searched the forest for any others,” Tyr said, “but if they were on horseback like this one…” He shrugged.

  “Where is his horse?” Nel asked.

  Tyr said, “Unfortunately, we had to spear the horse in order to capture the man.”

  A little silence fell. Then Ronan said bleakly, “So, now he will know where to find us.”

  Siguna understood immediately that the “he” referred to her father.

  “Do you want to send some of your own men to ride after the others?” Tyr asked.

  “When did you capture this one? This morning?”

  “Last night. We searched for any others until it was dark.”

  “It is too late, then,” Ronan said. “They have too much of a start.”

  All this while, Vili had been standing perfectly still, straight-backed, with defiance on his face, his hands tied behind his back.

  Nel said, “The poor boy looks exhausted.”

  Vili turned his eyes in her direction, seeming to guess that she was speaking of him. He looked at the two dogs who guarded her side, and Siguna said immediately, “The dogs are as tame as Father’s old mare, Vili.”

  “Vili?” Nel said. “Is that your brother’s name, Siguna?”

  “Sa.”

  “Please remember, he is not our guest, Nel,” Ronan said sternly. “He is our prisoner. I do not want him let loose to return to his father with further descriptions of our camp and our numbers.”

  “I understand that, Ronan,” Nel said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t feed the boy. After all, he is Siguna’s brother.”

  Siguna smiled a little at Nel’s typical kindness. However, when she looked at Ronan he was wearing what Mait and Thorn had called his “black look.” He was obviously unhappy with this new development.

  Arika spoke for the first time. “If they have scouted the river, that means they will know the terrain.”

  Ronan’s scowl got even blacker.

&nb
sp; “We had better call the other chiefs,” said the Mistress, “and discuss the situation.” Then, as Ronan did not move, she added tartly, “Tyr and Siguna are perfectly capable of seeing to the boy, Ronan. Get yourself dressed!”

  Everyone stared at Arika in astonishment. She had sounded exactly like a mother.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Within the hour, the Federation chiefs had gathered in what, in more ordinary times, would be the Red Deer tribe’s men’s cave. They sat on deerskin rugs, in a circle around the unlit hearth, and their faces were somber.

  “The situation is thus,” Ronan said. “By tomorrow, Fenris will know the location of our camp and the numbers of our men. We must expect him to attack in a very short time.”

  “We can retreat to the Red Deer summer camp,” Arika said.

  “That is a good idea,” Unwar agreed. “That will give us the delay we need until the men of the Squirrel come. Without them, we are outnumbered two-to-one.”

  “Not to mention that the enemy are all horsed,” said Haras.

  Matti, the young man who had been chosen to represent the remnants of the tribes of the Fox and the Bear, listened with bright eyes and a grave face and said nothing.

  “I particularly did not want him to know our numbers,” Ronan said bitterly. “That is why I posted men to intercept his scouts.”

  “Perhaps the boy was alone after all,” Unwar said.

  “He is the chief’s son,” Haras said. “Would you send your son alone on such a mission?”

  Unwar grunted, then shrugged in acknowledgment of Haras’s point.

  Ronan repeated, “I think Fenris will move quickly. He will not want to give us a chance to change our ground.”

  “The Mistress is right,” said Unwar. “We should retreat to the Red Deer summer camp.”

  “If we do that, we will be leaving the women and children in the Great Cave unprotected,” Haras protested.

  “Move the women and children too,” Arika suggested.

  Ronan said slowly, “I have been thinking…”

  All the faces turned to him.

  Ronan laced his hands upon his knee and frowned thoughtfully at his intersecting fingers. “All this time my plan has been to fool the Horsemasters into thinking that we are larger in number than we actually are,” he said. “This Fenris is too clever a chief to risk his men in what he perceives to be a losing fight. There is no reason for him to do so, not when he can find easier prey elsewhere.” His frown deepened. “However, now we must assume that Fenris knows our numbers. He will not be turned back as easily as I had hoped, and so our strategy must be changed.”