by Marc Secchia
“Yesterday afternoon,” he grunted. “Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Shiftas?”
“Who else but bandits would be out here, riding?” Shioni asked. “Villagers would have one horse for the shemagele, at most two or three.”
The scout caught up with his horse and swung up into the saddle. “We’ll head back, pick up the other scout. I want warriors to watch my back. My neck’s itching.”
Shioni shaded her eyes, looking south toward the ford, even though she could not see it because of the folds of the hills. “My neck’s itching too, but it’s coming from down there.” She pointed with her chin.
“Really?” he waved a large black wasp away from his face, staring at her. Then his expression cleared. “Fine. I don’t see any spirit of witchery in you. Let’s go see what the river’s washed up.”
Shioni kicked her heels into her horse’s flanks, spurring him into a gallop as she followed the scout downhill into a narrow gully. A spirit of witchery? That was exactly what she feared, and probably what many people suspected. She’d rather die than become a witch. She needed to speak to Abba Petros.
Shortly, they caught up with the main body of warriors and made their report to Captain Yirgu.
“Good,” he said. “Spears at the ready, warriors of Sheba. Sub-Captain Sabu, take your warriors around from the north-west. Three screeches of the long-eared owl for the all-clear. Two for danger.”
After Sabu and his warriors had headed out, Captain Yirgu pointed at two other warriors. “We’ll proceed on foot. You’re on horse detail.”
“Sir!”
“Scouts? Take us in. Eyes open, men.”
Here, Shioni noticed that the river flattened out, passing over a gravelly pan before pouring over a low rocky ridge and foaming away downstream, toward Takazze. Although it was early, the heat already shimmered over the rocks and bushes. Of the hearty bird chorus which had greeted the dawn, only the low croaking of wattled ibis and the faraway keee! of a hunting fish eagle remained. Here, without need for the Captain’s command, the experienced warriors fanned out and began to scuttle from bush to bush and shelter to shelter, listening hard, scanning the ground, and sniffing the air.
All appeared quiet. But in the soft riverside sand, Shioni found tracks–many tracks. She beckoned to Captain Yirgu. “Look,” she whispered. “Someone crossed from the far side, with donkeys. Here, a fight. We’ve horse tracks coming from the north, from our direction. Someone knows we’re coming.”
“A merchant,” said the scout. “The tracks are deep. Maybe the shiftas attacked the merchant here.”
“Then, where did they go?” Captain Yirgu asked. “Find out. You. Get six warriors over the far side of the river. Take a scout.”
Three screeches of the owl sounded nearby. The ford was clear. The scouts worked out that the bandits had tried to cover their tracks when they left–they had headed westward along the far bank, the same direction the Shebans intended to travel.
Shioni rubbed her temples. Strange. She had been so certain … yet something still felt wrong. She prowled along through the waist-high bushes and grasses, listening intently.
Suddenly, Captain Yirgu stood at her side. “What is it, girl?”
“Look, Captain. Bent grass. Blood here.”
Warriors moved around them, men searching the bushes. Several pushed past her when she paused.
“What?”
“I feel someone nearby,” she said. Captain Yirgu’s sword flashed into his hand. Shioni had an arrow nocked to her recurve bow. “Hold on. Tell your men to hold.”
“Hold!”
Searching, searching … finding traces of blood on a few leaves, grass blades bent here and there, a snapped twig which had been set straight again. Aware of time passing, Shioni shifted forward, then stopped again. Crouched down. She sensed impatience in the three warriors ahead of her.
Captain Yirgu breathed, “What do you see, Shioni?”
“I don’t know, Captain … there’s danger. But I can’t figure out what it is–hold, men,” she called. The warriors paused again. One of them muttered beneath his breath, shifting forward slowly. “Is that a foot? Back there, next to the tall boulder? Hold!” she repeated, her voice rising. “Wait!”
“Oh, for heavens’ sake!” snarled the unhappy warrior. “Must I listen to some know-nothing slave-girl?”
The Captain hissed, “Shut it!”
He whirled on his heel. “Captain, there’s nothing here but bush–”
Swish! A bush snapped forward. The warrior’s spear had brushed something, now he wore a thorn-branch across his muscled stomach. One of the others cursed.
“Stop!” Shioni shouted. “Don’t touch it! Don’t move!”
The warrior pulled the thorny branch away from his stomach. He had been pierced in a dozen places. “It’s just a few … thorns,” he gasped. His hand flew to his heart and his face contorted in pain. “Oh … God! What?”
Shioni started forward to help the warrior, but Captain Yirgu’s powerful grasp stopped her. “Poison of the desert rose,” he said. “I’ve seen this before.”
The warrior went rigid and toppled over.
“But we have to help him …”
“Nobody can help him now.” Captain Yirgu gestured to the two warriors already inside the patch of bushes. “Don’t move, or Abba Petros will be praying over your graves too.”
One of them was sweating in great drops. Shioni called, “You hurt?”
“My foot. Just a scratch.”
Clearly in great pain, the warrior did not budge as his fellows moved carefully around him, poking and prodding the bushes to spring any further traps, of which there were several. Shioni took the leather tie out of her hair and knelt next to the warrior. As Mama Nomuula had instructed her for snakebite, she looped the leather thong around his leg several times below the knee and drew it tight. Hopefully that would prevent the poison from reaching his heart. She tied it as firmly as she could.
Next, they came to the man lying behind the rock. By his dress they knew him for a merchant. The stump of an arrow protruded from his shoulder and his left leg was obviously broken in two places.
“That explains the spoor,” said Captain Yirgu. “Poor fellow ran into those bandits and they sat him in these bushes as a trap for us. You two! Get across the river and brief the patrol. Tell them to secure the area. Wasihun. Take three warriors and get a report to General Getu at the double. Sabu, split up your men and check this side of the river again. I don’t want any surprises.”
“What will we do with the merchant, Captain?”
“We’ll decide when Getu gets here. Take him to Takazze, most likely, or he’ll die.”
“And the warrior?” Shioni worried. “Maybe Tensi can help him.”
Yirgu nodded. “Good thinking, Shioni. Give him some water. Get him in the shade.” The Captain wiped his brow. “I’ll be darned if the General wasn’t right about your abilities. Shame this warrior could not listen. I wonder if we’re looking at the work of Jibu.”
“Jibu? ‘The Hyena’, Captain?” Shioni looked up from the merchant.
“Likes his poison,” said another of the warriors. “We’ve been chasing him up and down the river for years. Wily as a fox. Doesn’t have many men, but what they lack in numbers, they make up for in cruelty. Even among shiftas he has a reputation.”
“How’s the merchant?” asked Captain Yirgu.
“There isn’t much bleeding here.”
The tall Captain grimaced. “First casualty of the journey, and it happened on my watch. Now you’ll hear General Getu shout.”
Shioni was on the far side, helping the scout examine the brushed-over tracks of the departing bandits, when the main column arrived. General Getu could be heard right across the river. She shaded her eyes. Good, there was Annakiya climbing down the rope ladder from the howdah. She half-expected to be summoned any moment, but once Getu had finished chewing out Captain Yirgu, he fell instead to bark
ing orders with the snappishness of an angry hound. Shortly, she saw two teams of four warriors each depart, carrying the merchant and the wounded warrior on hastily-assembled litters. Several others dug a grave for the unfortunate warrior. The Sheban warriors and merchants waded through the thigh-deep river toward her.
Shioni dashed over to help Shifta–not that her help was needed, but because she did not want to fall foul of General Getu in his wrathful mood.
She didn’t escape. “Next time, give clearer orders!” the General bellowed as soon as he caught sight of her.
“I heard you did well,” Shifta rumbled. “He’s one tough commander.”
“The best,” said Shioni. “He and Chief are similar in some ways.”
“Quite so,” agreed the elephant, with a wistful tone that made Shioni wonder exactly what Chief had said to him, and how. “Have you ever pleased him?”
“I think so.”
“Are you humans any good at telling stories?”
“Not as good as elephants. But I can try, if you like.”
Shifta chuckled. “Few people have the memory of an elephant. Tell me of this battle on the Mesheha River that everyone seems to be talking about. And no false modesty, please. I observe you are of lowly status amongst your kind. You even wear a collar to mark this, yet Chief told me you serve Sheba bravely and with honour. How is this possible? I want to understand.”
“I’ll get Azurelle to help me,” said Shioni, smiling as he laid his trunk, elephant-style, on her shoulder, making her one of his herd. It was incredibly heavy! She laid her hand on his trunk, accepting the gesture gratefully. “Zi was there. And you’ll have no modesty from her.”
“Perfect.”
Chief was no small boaster, Shioni knew. Would Shifta expect the same? Again, she wondered what instructions Chief might have given the young bull. She had never known her earthly family, but the elephants had been quick to accept a stray slave-girl into their herd. The eldest elephant, Dusky, had even saved her life once. Now, Shifta? A suspicious pattern.
“Give me a ride up so I can fetch Azurelle,” she said.
The trunk curled, and up she went.
Chapter 6: Horseback Archery for Princesses
“For the love of–oh!” Annakiya scowled over the howdah’s railing. “Where have you been, Shioni? I’m so bored. B-o-r-e-d!”
“Riding patrol. General Getu’s orders.”
“Save me from the endlessly chattering Fiuri, please.”
“My eyes might be closed, but my ears are open,” piped a tiny voice. “I’ve never been so insulted. Barbarian.”
“She’s worse than a flock of lovebirds.”
“Gibbering baboon.”
“Much prettier, though. Oh yes, much prettier.”
“That’s more like it. Now, leave me to meditate upon this problem.”
“Snore upon, more like.” Princess Annakiya rolled her eyes. “Suggest something, Shioni. My backside hurts from sitting in this howdah. How’s dat? Howdaht … ha ha.”
Shioni craned her neck. Her best friend did look bored. She would have to be as bored as a slave-girl chopping red onions for the whole of Castle Hiwot–Shioni’s most-disliked job–to be cracking such bad jokes. They were barely a day past the Mesheha River, which roared into the Takazze in a frothing, spitting torrent, from a gorge which could only have been scaled with ropes. Another fifteen days of sitting upon the royal backside? Even Annakiya’s patience would be tested. She had already read through all of the scrolls she’d packed for the journey. Typical. Perhaps she needed three more elephants to lug her library, Shioni thought, deciding she was being rather uncharitable about it all.
“Horseback archery,” she suggested.
Annakiya’s face brightened at once. “Archery!”
“I’ll go make the arrangements.”
“Horseback archery?” Getu snorted. “I trust you’re joking, Shioni.”
“The Princess is a decent rider, my Lord.”
“And who’s going to teach her? You?” His scarred eyebrow crawled up toward his hairline. “Show me. Hit … something.”
Unable to decide if he was teasing or simply being obstinate, Shioni scanned the river bank. Egrets, herons, a flock of hadada ibis, a darting malachite kingfisher … no, none of those. Ah! “Duck for dinner, gashe?”
He smiled his sly smile, the one that Shioni had dubbed ‘the two-edged sword smile’ in the privacy of her thoughts. He added, “At a gallop.”
“A gallop?” She slapped her horse with the reins. “Yah!”
“Yah, yah!”
Shioni startled when the General spurred his horse along right behind her. Her horse could run, but not like Thunder, the King’s beautiful Arabian, who had not been allowed to make this trip. She missed the irritable but good-hearted stallion. Never mind. She let her senses merge with the horse’s gallop, revelling in the power of his gait as he accelerated away past Shifta and the warriors near him, past Captain Yirgu and his cohorts. This horse’s heart was strong and noble, and she sensed his pleasure in the speed he generated; horses loved to run. She detected a slight discomfort in his right fore-hoof–check that later. She reached back to slip the recurve bow off her shoulder. She drew two arrows at once from her quiver. Might as well try out what she’d been practising.
Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to follow the General and the slave-girl as they raced toward the river’s shallows. Skirting a reed-bed, the thunder of their hoofbeats scared a raft of red-billed ducks into flight. Shioni rose out of her saddle. She drew the bowstring back to her right ear, sighting the shot as her knees and thighs flexed unconsciously, guiding the horse, holding her upright yet fluid with the horse’s charge, in a harmony deeper than conscious thought. She focussed narrowly on the target, drew a deep breath, held it; let her mind clear as she followed the rising birds instinctively with the arrow-points. Honk, honk, honk! Their panicked cries split the overheated early afternoon. Her left arm steadied; the fingers of her right hand stayed the bowstring with a delicate touch as she waited for the right moment.
Now.
The twin arrows shot from the full flex of her powerful bow, parting ways slightly as they darted low over the reeds. To Shioni their flight appeared slow, but in reality it was over before she remembered to breathe again. One bird dropped instantly, pierced through the heart. The other fell, but then fluttered weakly on the river’s surface.
Packing the bow away with a practised movement, Shioni slowed as she clucked to the horse. “Let’s go pick them up, boy.”
The horse waded out willingly, belly-deep in the strong flow. Her arrow had struck the second duck’s neck a glancing blow. She drew her long knife and reached for the struggling bird. She could never leave an animal wounded like that.
Shioni rode back to the General. Bowing from the saddle, she offered him the brace of ducks. “Your dinner, my Lord.”
His lined, weathered face cracked into a rare smile. “Luck favours the skilful, I see–a neck shot? Consider yourself and your mistress invited for dinner in my tent tonight. I will cook. I’ll need help eating two ducks.”
She felt so tall riding back past the warriors! Of course the second strike had been lucky, high on the duck’s neck, but it resulted from long and painful practice, too. She had shown the sceptical General. And how! Her elation lasted as long as it took her to reach Shifta, and the Princess of Sheba.
“You rotten little show-off!” Annakiya glared at her. “It’s never enough for you, is it? Shioni has to be the great big hero. ‘Oh look, General, not just one duck but two, with one shot. Aren’t I clever? Just look at me.’ Me, me, me. That’s all it is with you.”
“He challenged me,” she said, weakly.
“You’re still a slave!” the Princess shouted. “My slave! The disobedient one! And I’ll decide what to do with you.”
A lifetime of habit made Shioni drop her gaze. Her eyes pricked with tears, but she was too furious to let a single drop fall. “My Lady.”
“Better. And don’t you forget it. Now, teach me.”
Why in all Abyssinia had Princess Annakiya picked this time to grow a backbone? And an attitude to match? Smarting, and madder than the nest of hornets she had pinned with an arrow during warrior training last week, Shioni fetched the Princess’ bow and arrows and handed them to her without looking higher than her feet. She helped Annakiya mount up and followed suit. What could she say? Maybe Annakiya was right–Shioni had been strutting. But her friend was also wrong to mistreat her out of jealousy. She hated to admit it, but she relied wholly on the Princess’ favour to win her freedom. What if Annakiya changed her mind? She could–easily. And in her world, the Princess’ word was law. She had Shioni’s scroll of ownership to prove it.
“We need to tie back your hair, my Lady,” she said, reaching out. The day might be sunny, but her heart rained rivers.
They practised until Annakiya declared her arms and shoulders were too sore to continue. She had two warriors running to fetch her arrows, only two of which came close to striking their target, while another dozen Sheban Elites rode in escort nearby. Shioni did her best to appear patient and gracious, but Annakiya seemed unusually moody. The Princess quickly became frustrated with trying to master what was in reality a difficult task.
“I’ve decided I’ll ride tomorrow,” the Princess announced. “I think the howdah’s giving me a sore back. You can teach me some more.”
“I think Shifta would welcome the break,” said Shioni, seeing a full load of warriors in the howdah, practising casting spears at targets below. That raw patch on his back did not look good. “But would you manage a full day, Anni?”
“You think I’m weak because I enjoy reading scrolls?”
Bristling again? Shioni sighed. “No, my Lady, I–”
“If my slave-girl can do it, so can I.”
“I couldn’t walk properly for days after the last time I rode into the mountains.”
“That’s what you get for disobeying my orders.” She meant to tease–at least, Shioni hoped so, but it came across as spiteful. “Anyways, I heard Dabir had you tied up after the battle. That bit I’d care to avoid, myself.”
