Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3)

by Malcolm Archibald

  She was the ruler of Cahokia, a city so large she could not see the end, with great triangular mounds rising all around, surmounted with tall buildings. Other buildings were smaller, beautifully thatched and neat as anything she had ever seen. Bare-chested people walked all around, bowing when they came to her. There were Lakota warriors with elaborate costumes they had captured from the Guards. Some carried spears, others clubs with heavy stone heads, elaborately carved.

  She was her city. She was wanted here. She was important here.

  Melcorka smiled at the memory. That was the vision she had experienced so many months ago, and now it had come true. This was her home. She belonged here as she had belonged nowhere else since she left her native island years before. Stepping to the parapet that overlooked her city of Cahokia, she took a deep breath and savoured the wonder and the loveliness of it all.

  'I am Eyota,' she said. 'I am Eyota of Cahokia. This is my city, this is my country and these are my people.'

  She looked down on them. All these thousands of people respected and even worshipped her. She was their queen and perhaps they even considered her divine. It was a strange, heady, intoxicating sensation to be admired, to have her every whim catered for, her every desire answered immediately, without question. This was power; this was what it felt like to be a ruler.

  'I want a bath this morning,' she said quietly to one of the many people who acted as her servants. The woman bowed and within a short space of time, a bath of hot water appeared. Melcorka did not have to ask how the water was heated, or what labour had been needed to carry the bath or the water up five flights of stairs. It did not matter. She was Eyota and her word of command was enough.

  She had no need to speak when the bath arrived; she stepped toward it and servants came to her, removing her clothes in seconds and easing her into the gentle water. When she asked for music, musicians appeared as if by magic; when she wanted fruit it would appear. Life was easy, life was luxurious and life was safe.

  She appointed Chaytan as the captain of her guard and he organised a personal fighting force for the citadel. She had the gates opened so that access was free for all. When a member of her Council of Elders requested that she allow them to build an observatory to watch the stars and the moon she snapped her fingers and the work started.

  A few days later she watched the line of men and women toiling with baskets of soil to make the new mound that would house the observatory. 'Where are these labourers from?' she asked.

  The elder smiled. 'These are the law-breakers' he replied.

  'I see,' Melcorka said and dismissed them from her mind. If they had broken her laws then they deserved to be punished. She was Eyota of Cahokia and her word should not be challenged. Melcorka did not realise how much she was changing; she was not yet twenty- four years old.

  After six weeks Melcorka wished to tour the outlying districts of her empire. She asked for horses and a chariot, only to hear that such novelties were unknown in this land. She realised that she had not seen a single horse since she arrived in Greenland and nobody understood the concept of a wheel. Her laughter came from deep within and ended. For the next few days, she tried to explain what a wheel was for, and then stopped. What was the point of a wheeled carriage when there were no horses to pull it?

  Melcorka shook her head and had her servants create a litter and carry her on a week-long tour of the nearest parts of her lands. They did not object; indeed they seemed excited at the prospect of being so close to the ruler of their world. Her Empire was extensive, with villages scattered over a wide radius from Cahokia, and tribes who seemed happy to have a new regime. Wherever she travelled, Eyota was lauded and feted and treated with adulation.

  All the same, Melcorka was pleased when they returned to her palace. She missed the luxury of her rooms and her daily hot bath, the bustle, and refinements of her home. Life outside the city was cold and airy, while the people undoubtedly lacked the sophistication f urban life.

  'Have you not finished repairing all the war damage yet?' Melcorka asked the men working on the wall.

  'Not yet, Eyota,' they said.

  'Well get a move on,' Melcorka said.

  It was during the clearing operations that one of the Oglala noticed the staff. He lifted it without comment and threw it in a pile intended for burning. It was there that Melcorka found it.

  'Don't burn that.' The very touch as she lifted the staff brought a host of memories. She remembered Fitheach the witch giving this length of wood to Bradan on the islands of the River Ness; she remembered the sound it made, tapping on the ground; she remembered Bradan sitting thinking with the top of the staff tucked under his chin. Melcorka smiled, running her hand up the length, feeling the smoothness of the rowan wood. She fingered the tip, with its roughly-carved Christian cross. St Columba had carried this staff, and with it, Bradan had battled the evil power of the Morrigan. She tapped it on the ground, much as Bradan had done, and smiled at the sound.

  God how she missed that laconic, slow-striding man with his quiet eyes!

  She sighed. That was gone now. Bradan and his staff belonged to a different world, a world of toil and trouble, of travel and worry. That life was in the past; she had come home and this was her world. She was Eyota of Cahokia now and forever. There was a strange comfort in that, on top of the terrible feeling of loss.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  'Eyota,' Chumani approached as she stood in the pleasure garden the servants were making for her. 'There is talk that you are alone too much.'

  'Oh?' Melcorka raised her eyebrows. 'Who is talking about me?'

  'The people are,' Chumani said. She stood at a respectful distance, with her head deferentially bowed.

  It was some days since Melcorka had last spoken to her. 'What do you think I should do to these people who talk disrespectfully?'

  'That is not what I meant, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  'So what did you mean, Chumani?' Melcorka asked. 'Be careful now.'

  'I think you need a man,' Chumani said. 'You must be lonely.'

  'I am not lonely,' Melcorka said. 'I am surrounded by people and if I ever required a man I can order one of the servants to share my bed. They would not turn me down.' Melcorka had already sought male comfort. It was not something she had done before but this new presence within her head and body had demanded solace during the long hours of night.

  'I am sure they would not,' Chumani said. 'You need more than a man to bounce in bed with. You need a man to share your life.'

  Melcorka's face darkened. How dare this woman tell her what she needed and what to do! Lifting her hand to slap the insolent Lakota, Melcorka stopped herself; despite her rise to absolute power, she knew that she was wrong.

  'Perhaps you are right, Chumani,' Melcorka dropped her hand. 'I shall see what man is best suitable for me.'

  'Do you wish me to assemble the most eligible?' Chumani asked.

  'Do that.' Melcorka ordered.

  'It shall be as you say, Eyota,' Chumani bowed and withdrew.

  When the news spread that Eyota was seeking a husband, men clustered to the citadel from all across the Empire. They came from Cahokia and from the forest tribes, from the great grass prairies and from the bounds of the northern seas; they came with hope and filled with curiosity. Secure in her own rooms, Melcorka stood at her window looking out as they filled the civil area between the citadel and the priest's temple.

  There were young men and old men, men in their prime and men in the full vigour of youth. There were men with broad shoulders and slender hips and men with scrawny shoulders and wide hips. There were boastful men who spoke of the women they had already known and quiet men who started when a woman touched them; there were wild men from the great prairies whose eyes were more used to the far horizons than the confines of a city and there were aesthetic sophisticates who hoped for a serene life in the cloistered palace.

  'How many are there?' Melcorka asked.

  Chumani shook her head. 'There
are many,' she said, 'and many more after that.' Chumani was not good with numbers. She could not count beyond the number of her own fingers and toes.

  A sense of mischief that she had not felt for many months swept over Melcorka. 'Would you care to help me inspect them, Chumani?'

  'I would be honoured, Eyota,' Chumani said.

  Melcorka smiled wickedly. 'How shall we do it? Should we have them perform tests of strength and agility to ensure they are fit enough to be a husband? Shall we ask about their treasure and wealth? Or shall we have them all strip naked and examine other parts of them?'

  Chumani giggled at the last thought, covering her mouth politely with her hand. 'Oh, Eyota: I did not think you would say such a thing!'

  Melcorka stepped closer and whispered so only Chumani could hear. 'Maybe we could test them out one at a time, Chumani. I could have another bed brought into my chambers and we could…' She laughed at the expression on Chumani's face.

  'Oh, Eyota!' Chumani was scandalised, yet undoubtedly pleased. 'Oh, I could not do that with you! You are Eyota!'

  'And you are my friend,' Melcorka said, laughing. She did not expect Chumani to drop to her knees.

  'I am only a woman,' Chumani said.

  Stooping, Melcorka raised her to her feet. 'So am I, Chumani. What on earth do you think I am?'

  'You are Eyota,' Chumani said. 'You are Eyota.' Backing away, she bowed, turned and fled. Melcorka wondered at the sudden fear in her eyes and then shrugged. It was a pity, but she could not account for the feelings of all her people.

  The men lined up in the great rectangular space between the citadel and the temple, row after row of hopefuls. Melcorka counted them as four hundred strong and walked up and down their ranks, looking at each one individually. They watched her, some smiling, some solemn, some pulling themselves upright, some stepping forward in the hope of instant acceptance.

  'I do not know,' she told Chumani. 'I do not know how to choose.'

  'What is it you are searching for?' Chumani asked.

  'Bradan,' Melcorka answered without thinking although she knew that Eyota did not approve.

  Chumani frowned. 'What is a Bradan?'

  Cursing her wayward tongue, Melcorka shook her head. 'I want a search throughout the kingdom and beyond,' she said. 'I am looking for a foreign man, a northerner who journeyed to this land with the Northmen, yet he is different. He is a tall man, with brown hair and hazel-coloured eyes, a man who does not carry a weapon and who talks slowly and carefully; a man with great wisdom.' She frowned. 'I have already given orders for this man to be found.'

  Chumani bowed. 'I shall ensure the search is intensified.'

  'Do so!' Melcorka commanded.

  'It shall be as you say,' Chumani bowed. 'What shall we do with all these other men, Eyota?'

  'Thank them and dismiss them,' Melcorka said. 'My husband is not among them.'

  She returned to her quarters, alone, and stared out of the window at the teeming city. Things were not as they should be.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  'Are you Eyota or Melcorka today?' The voice was friendly yet not as deferential as Melcorka was used to.

  'Hello Erik,' she faced the Northman. 'What are you doing here?'

  'I have come to ask if you have found Bradan yet; or if you have found a suitable husband.'

  'I have found neither,' Melcorka said.

  Erik sat on a chair, crossed his legs and made himself comfortable. 'These Skraelings think of you as nearly divine,' he said. 'It will be hard to find a man who wishes to treat you as a full-blooded woman rather than as a goddess.'

  'I am no goddess,' Melcorka said.

  'I know that.' Erik smiled at her. 'We have been through some adventures, you and I. We fought the Ice Giant together, and crossed icy seas and up great rivers.'

  'I remember,' Melcorka said.

  'Do you remember these long toothed monsters in the sea?'

  'I remember the walruses.' Melcorka said.

  'And those dragons in the inland sea?'

  'I remember them well,' Melcorka said.

  'And that fight with Wamblee's men?'

  'I remember,' Melcorka said. 'Do you have a point to make or are we just swapping memories?'

  'You need a man,' Erik said. 'We are connected by experience and we are both from the same world. We would make a good pairing.'

  'Your father killed my mother,' Melcorka reminded him.

  'I know,' Erik said. 'And you killed both my parents.'

  'That is also true. It is not the best beginning to any friendship.'

  Erik shrugged. 'I hardly knew my father; I never met your mother and I hated my own mother. I am grateful to you for killing her.'

  'That is still not the best basis for a marriage,' Melcorka did not say that she found this man interesting. He was handsome and young and had proved himself in battle. She looked him up and down, wondering what he would be like. No; she killed that thought. She could not trust him; he may be planning revenge for the death of his parents. Chumani was correct of course; she had the natural urge for a man. Yet she also had that old loyalty to Bradan. If she could find him, she would be happier. She had felt some strange attraction to Erik from the first; he was politer than most Norseman and was certainly not a natural killer. She took a deep breath.

  He reminded her of Alva, Egil's little daughter that she had rescued and cared for before she left Scotland. He had something of her allure, allied with a definite masculinity.

  'Thank you for your offer, Erik,' Melcorka said. 'I will not disregard it.'

  Erik stood up. 'Will you consider it seriously?' His smile made him look even more handsome, a blond, tall, broad-shouldered man who had travelled half the way around the world with her.

  'I will,' Melcorka said. Part of her wanted to invite him to stay. Was that Melcorka or Eyota? She did not know. Melcorka watched him leave the room and next day came news that put Erik out of her mind, at least for the present.

  'Eyota,' Chumani gasped, bowing deeply as Melcorka sat on her favourite chair staring out the window at her city. 'We have news of your foreigner. He is deep in the woods with the Iroquois. Shall we send a party to bring him in?'

  'Yes,' Melcorka said at once, and then changed her mind. 'No. No; I shall go to him. I want fifty men as escort, and you as well.'

  Chumani bowed again. 'It shall be as you wish, Eyota.'

  Melcorka tried to still the hammering of her heart. Here she was, ruler of a vast city and of an empire so huge she still did not know its full extent, and yet she was nervous at the thought of seeing a wandering man with neither power nor influence. That was absurd; she could have any man she wished, at any time. What was so special about this one?

  'We will leave in two days,' Melcorka said, knowing that the next forty-eight hours would be a torment of doubt and anxiety. She waved her hand to the door. 'Please leave me alone.' She needed to think. She needed to control these two personalities that struggled for control within her head.

  Daylight and night were the same; worry and torture and power. Sometime in the next day, Melcorka used a man. It was a physical thing that dulled one urge without assuaging her need. It was not enough; he was not enough. Melcorka dismissed him, watched his naked body without interest and waited for time to pass.

  'Are you ready, Eyota?' Chumani asked.

  'I am ready,' Melcorka said.

  Her people had made a litter in which to carry her if she did not feel like walking, and there were another three litters full of supplies for the journey. Melcorka looked around her apartments in the palace and smiled. Once this journey was over she would have a more luxurious divan made, and some polished copper mirrors so she could regale herself in them. That was something to look forward to.

  'Come, Chumani.' She walked down the stairs and out of the door into the courtyard outside. There must be an easier way to leave her palace, she thought, casually acknowledging the waves and bows of her people.

  They moved to the rive
r and boarded a fleet of canoes. Melcorka had considered using Sea Serpent but decided that her people were better suited to paddling canoes than pulling on oars and she was still not certain if she trusted the Norsemen. So she sat in the stern of the largest canoe and watched her kingdom slide past as the paddlers put their muscles to work.

  The responsibilities of being queen of Cahokia rested lightly on Eyota's shoulders, while there was great pleasure in enjoying the fruits of her position. She leaned back and enjoyed the journey. Allowing her people to carry the burden of travel, Eyota barely noticed her surroundings while Melcorka fretted at the thought of seeing Bradan again.

  The village was quiet, with the collection of lodges protected by a single slender palisade and with a central fire smoking gently in the light wind.

  'Halloa there,' the leader of the guard shouted. 'We have Eyota of Cahokia with us.'

  There was a slight pause before a voice sounded. 'You are welcome if you come in peace.'

  'We come in peace,' the leader said. 'We are seeking the foreign man known as Bradan.'

  They filed through a gate and into the village, where the entire population of the village, less than forty adults and half that number of children and dogs, poured out to stare at them.

  'We have nobody of that name,' the Iroquois said.

  Melcorka stepped forward. 'I am Eyota,' she said. Rather than instant obedience, the Iroquois merely nodded.

  'We heard your name mentioned,' they said. 'You are welcome.'

  The village grouped around the central fire, with all the men, women and children staring at these visitors.

  'We have brought gifts,' Melcorka ordered the extra food to be distributed to the Iroquois. She looked around the faces, searching for Bradan.

  He sat in the middle of the crowd, dressed as any other of the Iroquois and with Ehawee, the young woman who had tended him by his side. Even after all these weeks, the side of his head was swollen, although the bruise had died away. The club had left an ugly scar that was visible underneath the line of his hair. Melcorka felt her heart racing again. Ignoring all the protocol, she walked to him.