But all would depend on this victory, and the Acoma soldiers were showing an alarming reluctance to die. Perhaps, thought Jidu, he had ordered too many to attack the force on the border. Already both sides had been reduced, but now the odds were little better than two to one in favour of the Tuscalora. Again the green plume of the Acoma officer fell back, and the First Strike Leader of the Tuscalora shouted to his men to close. Now only a handful of soldiers remained, crowded against Mara’s litter with their swords swinging in tired hands. Their end was certain now.
Then a breathless messenger raced up to the estate house. The man prostrated himself at his master’s feet. ‘Lord, Acoma troops have penetrated the orchards and fired the chocha-la bushes.’
Jidu bellowed in fury for his hadonra; but worse news followed. The messenger took a gasping breath and finished his report. ‘Two Acoma Strike Leaders with a force of three hundred warriors have taken position between the burning crops and the river. None of our workers can get through to battle the blaze.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora leaped to his feet. Now the situation was critical; chocha-la bushes matured with extreme slowness, and a new field would not mature to yield sufficient harvest to recover his loss within his lifetime. If the bushes burned, the proceeds from this year’s crop could not pay off the creditors. Ruin would be visited upon Jidu’s house, and Tuscalora wealth would be as ashes.
Gesturing for the exhausted messenger to move clear of his path, the Lord of the Tuscalora shouted to his runner. ‘Call up the auxiliary squads from the barracks! Send them to clear a way for the workers!’
The boy ran; and suddenly the fact that Mara’s escort was nearly defeated lost its savour. Smoke turned the morning sky black and evil with soot. Plainly, the fires had been expertly set. Lord Jidu almost struck the second messenger, who arrived panting to report that shortly the crops would be ablaze beyond hope of salvage – unless the Acoma force could be neutralized to allow water brigades access to the river.
Jidu hesitated, then signalled a horn bearer. ‘Call withdraw!’ he ordered bitterly. Mara had set him to select between hard choices: either surrender honour and admit his default as a dishonour, or destroy her at the price of his own house’s destruction.
The herald blew a series of notes and the Tuscalora Strike Leader turned in open astonishment. Final victory was only moments away, but his master was signalling him to order withdraw. Tsurani obedience told, and instantly he had his men backing away from the surrounded Acoma guards.
Of the fifty soldiers who had arrived upon the Tuscalora estates, fewer than twenty stood before their Lady’s blood-splattered litter.
Jidu shouted, ‘I seek truce.’
‘Offer the Lady of the Acoma your formal apology,’ shouted the green-plumed officer, who stood with sword at the ready should combat resume. ‘Satisfy her honour, Lord Jidu, and Acoma warriors will lay down their weapons and aid your men to save the crops.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora jiggled from foot to foot, furious to realize he had been duped. The girl in the litter had planned this strategy from the start; what a vicious twist it set upon the situation. If Jidu deliberated, if he even took time to dispatch runners to survey the extent of the damage to determine whether his force had a hope of breaking through, he might forfeit all. No choice remained but to capitulate.
‘I concede the honour of the Acoma,’ shouted Lord Jidu, though the shame gripped him as though he had eaten unripe grapes. His First Strike Leader called orders for the warriors to lay down their arms, with reluctance.
The Acoma soldiers left living unlocked their shield wall, weary but proud. Papewaio’s eyes flashed victory, but as he turned towards the litter to share victory with his Lady, his sweat-streaked features went rigid. He bent hastily, the bloody sword forgotten in his hand; and for a last, vicious instant, the Lord of the Tuscalora prayed that fortune favoured him. For if the Lady Mara lay dead, the Tuscalora were ruined.
Mara roused, her head aching, her arm aflame. An Acoma soldier was binding it with a torn shred of litter curtain. ‘What …’ she began weakly.
Papewaio’s face suddenly loomed over her. ‘My Lady?’
‘What has passed?’ she asked, her voice sounding small.
‘As you hoped, Jidu ordered a withdrawal when his fields were threatened.’ He glanced over his shoulder, where his battered and weary squad stood ready, and said, ‘We are still in danger, but I think you hold the stronger position for the moment. But you need to speak with Jidu, now, before matters turn for the worse.’
Mara shook her head and allowed Papewaio and another soldier to lift her from her litter. Her feet seemed to betray her. She was forced to cling to her Strike Leader’s arm as slowly she made her way over blood-spattered gravel to where her line of remaining soldiers stood. Mara’s vision was blurred. She blinked several times to clear it, and noticed an acrid smell in the air. Smoke from the fired fields drifted like a pall over the estate house.
‘Mara!’ Jidu’s shout was frantic. ‘I propose a truce. Order your men to stand away from my fields and I’ll admit I was wrong in not acknowledging my obligation.’
Mara regarded the fat, anxious man and coldly moved to turn the situation to Acoma advantage. ‘You attacked me without provocation. Did you think, after admitting you were wrong, I would forgive the slaughter of good men for payment of a debt you owe me anyway?’
‘We can settle our differences later,’ cried Jidu, his colour turning florid. ‘My fields burn.’
Mara nodded. Papewaio motioned with his sword point and a soldier sent another signal arrow overhead. Mara tried to speak, but weakness overcame her. She whispered to Papewaio, who shouted, ‘My mistress says our workers will put out the fires. But our men will maintain position with lit torches. Should anything here go amiss, the chocha-la field will be reduced to ashes.’
Jidu’s eyes went feral as he struggled to think of a way an advantage might still be gained. A ragged, smoke-stained runner raced into the dooryard. ‘Master, Acoma soldiers repulse our men. The auxiliaries failed to open a way to the river.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora lost his resolve. Painfully resigned, he sank to his cushions and rubbed his hands on chubby knees. ‘Very well, Mara. I accept the inevitable. We shall abide by your wishes.’ He said to his First Strike Leader, ‘Put up your arms.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora looked on uneasily while Mara shifted her weight to ease her wounded arm. The Lady of the Acoma had refused Jidu’s offer to let his healer tend her; instead she had settled for a field bandage contrived by Papewaio. Acoma soldiers still held position amid the chocha-la and the Tuscalora Force Commander confirmed the worst. The Acoma could fire the field again before they could be forced back.
Jidu sweated and strove desperately to pass the matter off as a misunderstanding. ‘It was an agreement between men, my Lady. I had many wagers with your late husband. Sometimes he won, sometimes I won. We let the sums accumulate, and when I won a bet, the amount was deducted. If later I chanced to gain the advantage, I let the debt ride in turn. It’s … a gentleman’s agreement.’
‘Well, I do not gamble, Lord Jidu.’ Mara turned dark, angry eyes upon her unwilling host. ‘I think we shall simply settle for payment … and indemnity for the damage done my honour. Acoma soldiers died this day.’
‘You ask the impossible!’ The Lord of the Tuscalora flung pudgy hands in the air in an un-Tsurani-like display of distress.
Mara raised her eyebrows. ‘You still choose not to honour this debt?’ She glanced pointedly towards the Acoma soldiers who clustered close at hand, an archer in their midst ready to launch another signal arrow. Jidu stared at the shell sequins ornamenting his sandals. ‘Ah, my Lady … I’m sorry to cause you inconvenience. But threats cannot change the fact that I am unable to honour the debt at this time. Of course, I will meet my obligation in full the instant my circumstances permit. On this you have my uncompromised word.’
Mara sat very still. Her voice held a hard
and bitter edge. ‘I am not presently inclined towards patience, Lord Jidu. How soon may I expect payment?’
Jidu looked abashed as he admitted, ‘I have recently suffered personal reversals, Lady Mara. But I can safely promise compensation when this year’s crop goes to market.’
If it goes to market, Mara thought pointedly. She sat back. ‘The chocha-la harvest is not due for another three months, Lord Jidu. You expect me to wait until then for two thousand centuries of metal – and my indemnity?’
‘But you must,’ the Lord of the Tuscalora exclaimed miserably. He motioned in distress to the short, thin man who sat at his master’s side. Sijana, the Tuscalora hadonra, shuffled scrolls in a hasty review of the estate’s finances. He whispered furiously in his master’s ear and paused, expectant. Lord Jidu patted his stomach with renewed confidence. ‘Actually, Lady, two thousand centuries can be paid now – plus another five hundred to repair the damage you’ve suffered. But a single payment of that size would prevent me from expanding the planting for next year. Lord Buntokapi understood this and promised to allow a favourable repayment schedule, five hundred centuries a year for the next four years – five years to cover the restitution.’ The hadonra’s nod of satisfaction turned to dismay; a deep flush rose from Jidu’s collar as he realized his words had contradicted his earlier insistence that his debt was to be left to wait upon the outcome of future wagers. Since Mara was certain to seize upon this small but shameful lie, he quickly added, ‘I’ll pay interest, of course.’
Heavy silence fell, punctuated by Jidu’s heavy breathing and a near-imperceptible creak of armour as Papewaio shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Mara used her good hand to open her fan, her manner poisonously sweet. ‘You argue like a moneylender, while Acoma soldiers lie dead outside your door? If my late Lord chose to offer terms on the debt, so be it. Produce the document and we shall abide by the terms.’
Jidu blinked. ‘But our agreement was spoken, Lady Mara, a promise between noblemen.’
The fan vibrated in the air as Mara reined back rage. ‘You have no proof? And yet you haggle?’
With his field held hostage, Jidu shied from bringing up matters of honour again. ‘You have my word, my Lady.’
Mara winced. The Lord of the Tuscalora had created a situation where she could only call him forsworn, an insult no ruler could ignore. Etiquette demanded that the Lady of the Acoma accept the agreement, thereby gaining nothing for the next three months, and then only a fifth of what was due, or resume the useless slaughter.
The fan poised motionless in her hand. ‘But this debt is overdue already, Lord Jidu,’ she said. ‘Your hadonra’s failure to acknowledge inquiries in timely fashion brought about this impasse. I will brook no more delays, or your fields will be put to the torch.’
‘What do you propose?’ he asked weakly.
Mara rested her pretty fan on her knee. Though her wound obviously taxed her, she judged her moment perfectly, offering a counterbargin before Jidu’s wits could recover. ‘My Lord, you own a small strip of land between my northern and southern needra fields, cut down the middle by the dry stream bed.’
Jidu nodded. ‘I know the land.’ He had once offered to sell that same acreage to Mara’s father; Sezu had declined, because the land was useless. The banks of the dried stream were rocky and eroded and much too steep to cultivate. A crafty expression crossed the features of the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘Have you a need for that land, my Lady?’
Mara tapped her fan, thoughtful. ‘We recently gave the use of our upper meadow to the cho-ja. Now, Jican might find it useful for those lower fields to be connected, perhaps with a plank bridge so the needra calves can cross without injuring their legs.’ Recalling the stray note Sezu had left penned in one corner of a very tattered map, Mara stifled a smile. As if conceding a favour, she added, ‘Lord Jidu, I am willing to cancel your debt in exchange for the land and all privileges granted along with it. Also, you will vow not to oppose the Acoma for the remainder of your life.’
The wizened hadonra stiffened in poorly hidden alarm; he whispered in his master’s ear. The Lord of the Tuscalora heard him, then smiled unctuously at Mara. ‘As long as the Tuscalora are allowed access to the Imperial Highway for our wagons, I’ll agree.’
The Lady of the Acoma returned a gracious wave of her fan. ‘But of course. Your workers may drive your wagons down the gully to the highway anytime they wish, Lord Jidu.’
‘Done!’ Lord Jidu’s cheeks bulged into a smile. ‘My word upon it! And gladly.’ Then in an attempt to reduce tensions, he bowed low. ‘I also salute your courage and wisdom, Lady, that this unfortunate confrontation has brought a closer bond between our two families.’
Mara gestured to Papewaio, who helped her rise. ‘I’ll have your vow, Jidu. Bring out your family sword.’
For a moment there was tension in the air again, for Mara was publicly demanding the most sacred oath in place of a simple assurance. Still, until the Tuscalora fields were clear of Acoma warriors, Lord Jidu dared not protest. He sent a servant to fetch the ancient sword of his forefathers, one as old as any in the Empire, precious steel wrapped in a simple sheath of cane wood. While Mara and her officer looked on, the Lord of the Tuscalora gripped the hilt and pronounced his oath to abide by his promise in the name of his ancestors.
At last satisfied, Mara gestured to her soldiers. They helped her back into her bloodstained litter. Her face seemed pale as she lay back in her cushions. Gently her retinue lifted her onto their shoulders. As they prepared to carry their wounded mistress home, Mara nodded at the Lord of the Tuscalora. ‘The debt is met fairly, Jidu. I will gladly tell anyone who asks that the Lord of the Tuscalora is a man of honour who meets his obligations without flinching.’ Then she added, pointedly, ‘And abides by his promises. All will know your word is your bond.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora stood unflinching under the sting of her sarcasm. He had underrated her and had lost a great deal of prestige through the mistake. But at least the breach of honour would not become public knowledge, and for that small grace he thanked the heavens.
When the Acoma retinue was safely away from the Tuscalora house, Mara closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands. Alarmed, Papewaio stepped closer to the litter. ‘You took a very great risk, my Lady. Yet you triumphed.’
Mara’s reply came muffled through her hands. ‘Many brave men were killed.’
Papewaio nodded. ‘But they died like warriors, mistress. Those who gained honour at your command will sing your praises before the gods.’ He fell silent then, for the litter seemed to be shaking. ‘My Lady?’
Papewaio looked to see what ailed his mistress. Behind the shield of her palms, Mara was weeping with anger. Papewaio left her to her own release for a time, then said, ‘If the gully is flooded, the Lord of the Tuscalora will have no easy way to take his crops to market.’
Mara’s hands came down. Despite red eyes and a white face, her expression showed crafty triumph. ‘If Jidu is forced to use the long pass around the gorge to reach the Imperial Highway, his chocha-la will spoil with mould by the time it reaches Sulan-Qu. That will cause hardship for my Lord of the Tuscalora, for I doubt he’ll be able to pay the toll I will impose upon use of my needra bridge.’ When Papewaio turned curious eyes upon his mistress, she added, ‘You heard Jidu vow never to oppose the Acoma? Well, that is a start. That fat dog will be my first vassal. Within the season, Pape, within the season.’
The Acoma Strike Leader marched along, considering what this young woman had accomplished since he had accompanied Keyoke to the temple to bring her home. He nodded once to himself. Yes, Jidu of the Tuscalora would bend his knee before Mara or else forfeit his harvest. Such were the ways of the game, and Mara had gained the victory. There could be no doubt.
The brightly painted litter sitting in the dooryard of the Acoma estate house confirmed that Bruli of the Kehotara awaited the Lady of the Acoma. Mara reined in her irritation. Returned from the hive of the cho-ja, whose growi
ng Queen had offered wonderful balms for healing Mara’s shoulder, the young woman dismissed her bearers and escort. She must at least offer her personal greeting before giving Bruli an excuse to quit her presence, or else risk insult to the Kehotara. Which, Mara considered, might just be one of the reasons the Lord of the Minwanabi had dispatched his vassal’s handsome son to the Acoma estate.
Misa, the prettier of her personal maids, waited just inside the door. She held a comb and brush, and one arm was draped with a richly embroidered overrobe whose colours would set off her mistress’s dark eyes. Recognizing the hand of Nacoya in the appointing of the welcoming committee, Mara submitted without comment. With the slightest of frowns marring her brow, she stood while Misa’s hands expertly arranged her hair into a knot fastened with jewelled pins. The overrobe fastened in front with a row of flimsy ribbons, yet hid the white bandage that dressed the wound on her upper arm. Questioning Nacoya’s taste, Mara nodded briskly for Misa to retire, then made her way to the great hall where Nacoya was entertaining her guest in her absence.
The young son of the Kehotara rose and bowed formally on her entrance. He wore a costly robe buttoned with sapphires, the high cut of the hem and sleeves showing his legs and arms to good advantage.
‘Bruli, how pleasant to see you again.’ Mara sat on the cushions opposite the young man, bemused by his changed appearance. He was a good-looking man. Inwardly, she considered that most young ladies would have been flattered, even anxious, to be the focus of this suitor’s attention. His smile almost glowed and his charm was undeniable. In some ways it was a pity he was born to a noble house, for he could easily have been a master of the Reed Life and retired wealthy from the rewards of sharing his charms with powerful clients.
The Complete Empire Trilogy Page 36
