The Lion of Ackbarr

by Erme Lander

  The mountains were huge, holding up the sky in the gaps between the trees. Wild and rugged, taller than anything she’d ever seen. They formed a barrier around most of her country, there were only a couple of routes through, the sea blocked the rest. Spread out below them were the forests of Cassai, kept warm by the ocean currents, watered by the winds that were swept off the sea and cradled by the mountains. A swath of massive trees with lone sentinels bursting through to spread their branches in the sunlight.

  The trail climbed, the trees became thinner, giving way to high pastureland. Dizzy from the wide views and height, she gazed down at her entire country, the sea pale in the distance. The mountain range that had guarded Cassai for hundreds of years from the rest of the world was treacherous, a maze of canyons and blind alleys. Cassai had never needed to patrol its backyard, until Ackbarr had discovered the way through. Even now, few knew the complete way. A guide joined them at the last inn, to take them through the passes. He was a small stringy man with seamed skin and a tough little pony that trotted gamely upwards. Rylan’s mutter about the price he charged was quickly hushed by his father.

  Homesickness beckoned as she lost sight of the last green tree. She swallowed back the tears, refusing to be seen as a weak woman. Her brother – she tried to stop herself, then stubbornly refused. Her brother would have been enjoying the adventure, talking eagerly with the guards, sharing everything. Mika had quickly realised her husband didn’t even like her looking in the guards direction. She snorted to herself, maybe he thought she might compare him to them. She was stuck on the cart, jolting in the stiff backed position of being a lady. She wondered what they would think if she stole a guard’s horse and raced up the rocky trail, trusting in her horse’s sure-footedness. Her blood pulsed in anticipation and she unconsciously sat straighter, unaware of the spark in her eyes and her husband’s uneasy glance.

  Rylan mistook her straightening, “We shan’t reach the high pass for several days, you can’t see it from here.”

  “How high do we go?” Desperate for any conversation, she leant towards him. Mika hoped she would have a chance to change her husband, make him listen. He was still young, only a few years older than her. She held on tight to her promise, determined she’d become a good wife and rise to any occasion set in front of her.

  “High enough for snow. You have seen snow?” The look on his face was patronizing.

  She nodded and twitched away as he reached back into the cart to pull another cloak out for her. If she were riding astride, she’d have the horse’s heat to warm her. Her eyes glazed, gazing upwards at the grey rocks.

  The high pass took three days to get through. The pass was a rocky wasteland, a maze of valleys that all looked the same to her inexperienced eyes. Mekhi’s complaining reached new heights as he was forced to sleep in a tent piled with blankets and braziers. Mika noticed how the guards pulled faces out of his sight. Her checks flushed with cold under her tan, making her eyes sparkle. Snow was still on the mountain tops and she was grateful in some respects that she had an extra body in her blankets to keep her warm, even if it also meant she had someone else’s hands on her.

  The air felt stingingly alive, she puffed out fog with delight in the mornings. Mirroring his father, Rylan rose with reluctance and she had to stay in the tent until he got up. She lay with impatience, trying not to wriggle while he snored and listened to the men grumbling quietly outside. During the day, her eyes were everywhere, watching the rocks carefully from her cart, looking for signs of green, seeing tiny flowers tucked into the rocks and eagles riding in the currents high above.

  The way down was steep, with a switchback trail. The guide had advised that she would be better off riding the pony. Despite disliking the side saddle, Mika agreed. The risks of the cart overturning on the narrow track were too high. She petted the pony absently, mind lost in the clear air, peeping at the mist coated valley spread out below them.

  The trail widened and views were amazing. Wrapped in her cloak, she kept her delight to herself and drank it in. The province of Fenin was the breadbasket of Ackbarr, large barns housed both grain and animals. The landscape was different here, not the tall forests she was used to, but rolling hills, patchworked with hedged fields and spotted with tiny specks of grazing cattle. It was dry and the large fields were golden in the late autumn, the mountains holding the rain on the Cassai side. It felt to her a soft country, tamed like her pony into giving what was needed. The houses she saw were larger, more open and richly decorated inside.

  The meal at the inn fascinated her, the food reminding her that they’d left Cassai as sharply as the landscape outside. So much rich food, no wonder Mekhi was over-weight. She managed to embarrass Rylan by asking the innkeeper’s wife about the pudding, a sweet pastry she’d never seen before. She couldn’t believe the pastry could be rolled so thin, become so crispy, she’d thought it was vegetable based to begin with.

  Mekhi waved her curiosity away with a disdainful laugh and for once, her enthusiasm overcame her resolve to behave. It was matched by the innkeeper’s wife, who insisted on showing “the foreign girl” her kitchen. They spent half the evening together, with the wife delightedly showing Mika how the pastry was made, getting in her own cook’s way as she did. Rylan told her off afterwards in their room, for showing her ignorance in front of her inferiors. She didn’t care, anything new fascinated her. She tried to remember everything, knowing Alma would be desperate to know and resolved to write as soon as she’d got to her new home.

  Chapter 4

  The outskirts of the city stank. Mika stared, appalled at the shacks leaning against each other, some barely standing. Children ran up to beg before being driven off by the guardsmen. She was handed some coins to give out. Mekhi and Rylan threw their offerings with disdain and she watched as the children scrabbled to catch them, barely dodging the horses. Mika clutched hers with indecision, who could she help? She caught first one child’s eye, then another. Sores decorated their faces, stick thin limbs pleaded.

  The tiny coins bit into her hand as the small faces stared at her. In a panic she scattered them, unused to beggars in her ordered world. The guardsmen pushed through, bellowing at the fingers touching the precious mules. She shrank away from the noisy implied violence, the imploring voices and the eyes staring at her. She pulled her stole over her head, trying to hide from them, vulnerable on the high seat of the cart.

  A set of smartly dressed guards barred their way at the main gates, the beggars had dispersed to harry another traveller. Mika gazed at the huge walls, the stones neatly mortared, and then twisted to look over her shoulder at the mess behind. Those walls wouldn’t protect the people living in the shacks. Mekhi was talking smoothly to the man in charge. No pomposity this time, they looked like old friends. Something changed hands while the regular guards stared ahead. A docket was issued, she presumed for taxes and they were let in.

  Rylan rode next to her. “Is this Ackbarr?” she asked, thinking it was the capital city.

  Her husband laughed, “No. Ackbarr is eight days travel from here. This is Fenin. It’s a minor city in comparison, although still important for trade. We live in the north side, with the rest of the merchants.” The first time her husband had offered information.

  Mika tried again, “Shall we go to Ackbarr?” That had been where her brother had shamed himself. She wondered if she could find out why if she went there.

  Her husband replied pompously, “I shall. You will stay here and make my babies.”

  She swallowed her hurt and disappointment. Through blurring eyes she looked at the city. The roads were narrow, stalls set out made them tighter. Windows had flaps that came down to make booths. People shouting and yelling. Dogs and children running about, getting under their feet, barely dodging the horses. So many smells, both savoury and not. Latrines competed with bakeries. Bright colours of washing hanging from balconies, heaps of rubbish piled in alleyways. Open spaces, squares where fountains tinkled, people sitting, eati
ng, talking. The cart thumped on the cobbles, jolting her tired back.

  Mika pulled the edge of her stole further around her face to stop the stares. She was blonde compared to them. Those surrounding her had dark hair, blue eyes and tanned skin. She’d always thought her hair had been dark. Alma had often commented on the difference between them, twinning their hair together to look in fascination at her own white blonde tresses and Mika’s sandy strands. Here, Mika was the odd one out again.

  They stopped outside a house in a small square with gated archways leading off. Large buildings surrounded the square, grey walls several stories high. Shutters on the lower floors, glass in the top stories only. Glass. A luxury. Everything looked well maintained, no beggars or urchins to disturb the peace. They waited, the riders milling around, while the mules were taken inside and offloaded quickly. Mekhi paid the leader, shaking his hand firmly, with loud promises to contact him when they were needed again. The mules headed away in a different direction, she presumed to the stables.

  The cart was driven through the archway which opened into a yard. Mika was helped from the cart and stood, staring at her new home, wondering if she would be happy here. She took a deep breath, trying to stretch surreptitiously and was confronted by a plump woman only a few years older than herself. Rylan introduced her.

  “Stepmother. This is Mika, my new bride.” No introduction was coming from the other direction. Mika nodded and smiled in as friendly a fashion as she could. It wasn’t returned. She was taller than the other woman and slimmer. Mika felt her anger returning as she was eyed up and dismissed. She hadn’t asked to be here. She squashed the feeling, reminding herself of her good intentions, she was going to have to try harder.

  The trader came over and enveloped his wife in ample arms. She must be his second wife, she wasn’t old enough to be her husband’s mother. Mika suppressed a wince at the way she cooed and fussed over Mekhi. She wondered how her new mother in law coped with the trader being in bed with her. Did he have to lift his paunch to find his prick? She stifled a giggle at the thought and stopped when she noticed the wife’s hostile eyes on her.

  They went through another gate, into a small garden. A tinkling fountain, the plants carefully tended and seats sheltered under arbours. All the plants were clipped and weeded, very different from her mother’s wildly twining vines. There was complete privacy from the noisy city under the high walls, life was muted here.

  Mika was led up steps to the door onto the second floor. This led into the public area of the trader’s house. The servants came to greet them, murmuring their delight at the trader being back. Everything was a riot of colour in the house, designed to show how important Mekhi was. The servants in comparison were quiet and discreet. Mika noticed none of them looked her in the eye, even when she tried. Disturbed, she allowed herself to be taken up to the next floor.

  Their suite of rooms looked out over the street on one side. She ran over to touch the expensive glass gently and to look below at the people leaving the tiny square. Her husband smiled indulgently and showed her the rest of their rooms. To her delight there was a room to bathe in, with water coming out of a tap in the wall. Even in her father’s house, the water had to be hauled in and heated. Here, the servants only had to bring the hot, the cold could be pumped up. Heavy carved furniture pushed to the sides of the room. She started to unpack a bag that had been brought in and was stopped by Rylan.

  “That’s a servant’s job. Your job is to please me.”

  She’d done nothing else since she’d married him. Sighing a little, she went to put her arms around him, as he expected.

  Afterwards, Mika lay in bed and tried not to see the servants unpacking her things. Rylan slept. She drummed her fingers under the covers and shifted him off her. He sighed and rolled over. The servants went about their business not looking in their direction, they’d come in halfway through Rylan’s advances. He’d ignored them and carried on, not appearing to notice her embarrassment. The servants in her house had always knocked and waited, they were more like family. She tried to imagine this happening to her parents and failed.

  Mika waited until they’d disappeared and slid out, wrapping something around herself in case they returned. To her delight, she found the bathtub full. She slid in, washing off the dust and sweat of travelling. Several slender glass vials were close by and she sniffed them, unsure whether to use them. She washed and dressed swiftly, not wanting to be found naked. Rubbing her hair dry as she walked into the next room, she gazed out of the window at the street, watching the square below with delight. A grunt from Rylan in the bed, “You found the bath.”

  “Yes.”

  “Come here.” She pulled the drapes against the possibility of servants coming in and let him pull her close. He nuzzled into her, enjoying the scent of clean skin, exciting himself.

  That evening she struggled through a meal of rich food and listened to the trader boasting of his deals. Mika felt her mother in law’s eyes watching her, she wasn’t happy to have a rival in the house. Mika tried to be pleasant, remembering how her own mother behaved and felt the anger rising. It wasn’t her fault, she was just another trade deal. Only she was one that couldn’t be sold on.

  After dinner, sleepy from the travelling and heavy food, Mika watched Rylan struggling through the accounts set by his father. She listening to him complaining about the difficulty of the sums. She came to sit next to him and peered over his shoulder. He let her look through them, confident she’d be impressed by the columns and figures filling the page.

  Mika worked her way through with growing delight. She could do this. Her brother had hated figures as well. She’d helped him too, maybe this was a way to help her new husband. She could do them for him. She imagined them being able to work together, talking about their business when he was older, sitting by the fireside working through the day. In her enthusiasm, she pointed out several mistakes, meaning to show him the how and why.

  Rylan stared at her. “How do you know this?”

  “I used to help my brother. Look, it’s easy, you just missed the...”

  He gathered the papers together, eyebrows lowered. “I will do it. It is not a fit occupation for a woman.”

  Exasperated, she snapped back, “Nothing is a fit occupation for a woman. I’ve done nothing since I’ve been with you. I can help you. If you don’t want your father to know, that’s fine.”

  His face showed confusion and then firmed into stubbornness, “Your job is to have my babies. It’s important. Nothing should distract you from that. Are you growing one yet?”

  “I don’t know. A few figures won’t make any difference, I’m bored. Let me help you.”

  “Babies. That is your job. Concentrate on it.”

  He sniffed and walked out. Mika slumped on the bench. Babies. She was barely fifteen. Was she pregnant yet? She didn’t know. Would he let her help him after she’d had a baby? She imagined herself pregnant. Fat and waddling as she’d seen other women. The walls started to close in around her.

  Unable to breathe, she went and stared out of the window. A rhythmic thumping started from the suite of rooms next door. A voice crying out. Her new mother in law and the trader. She could hear the falseness in the cries and wondered if he was taken in by it or maybe he didn’t care.

  Rylan went with his father to a nearby town, to learn about processing techniques in the weeks after their arrival. They went out during the evening, sometimes taking Mika and her mother in law with them. She learnt after a few occasions that Mekhi preferred her to keep her hair covered. People knew Rylan had married a foreign girl, they just didn’t want to be reminded.

  Her mother in law, Ardi, had her own group of friends. Conversations spluttered to a halt after the first few pleasantries. Feeling uncomfortable with them, Mika sampled the food provided and that gave her a way in on the conversations with the other guests, asking questions they were pleased to answer. She silently thanked the innkeeper’s wife for the evening they’d s
pent talking about food. Mika listened more than she spoke. She had to admit that behind the boasting, Mekhi did know a lot about his trade. There was a shrewd knowledge behind his pomposity and he had an eye to what would sell.

  During the day she was stuck in the house with her mother in law. No chance of going out, Ardi had expressed horror at the thought of Mika wandering the streets. She was told a lady only visited friends. Mika heard the implied meaning that she didn’t know anyone and she wasn’t worth visiting. Mika resolved to try and at least make some acquaintances the next time she was taken out by Rylan.

  Ardi went out almost every day, gossiping with her friends. On the occasions they came to her house, they made no pretence of welcome when Mekhi or Rylan weren’t around. They stopped talking and stared at her when she came into the room. Eventually she stopped trying to be friendly and simply kept a pretence of civility up.

  Bored, Mika tried making friends with the servants. Back home, the servants and guards had been part of the family. She was frustrated to find she had to corner the servants to get them to talk about anything that wasn’t an order. Mumbled replies and worried looks were most of what she got. Eventually the steward gently took her aside and explained she was distracting them from their duties.

  She snuck into the library several times, thinking she could learn about her new culture by reading. At least, Mekhi called it his library, it was a shelf of books in a room of tapestries. The books were mostly about fabrics. She read, uninspired, thinking that at least she could talk to her husband with some knowledge, until the day a servant found her looking. He was so upset that she left and didn’t return.