Isle of Woman (Geodyssey)

by Piers Anthony

  “On the ice!” Tree exclaimed, amazed.

  “Go get your sleep before you collapse,” the commander told him.

  Tree was glad to do so. He untied his skates, which were clumsy on land, and sought his unit. It was actually in a group of houses which had been taken from the natives. The army had come here for plunder as well as to damage Christian power in the Baltic region. Houses represented temporary plunder; if their occupants didn't flee, the men were killed, and the children and younger women taken as slaves. That wasn't merely Lithuanian policy; it was universal with armies. The Christians did the same when they raided Lithuania, though they pretended that they were merely seeking converts to their noxious religion. There was his grandfather Blaze, still hale at sixty-four, with his smithy tools mounted on sleds. Tree ate some smoked boar meat and disappeared under a heavy blanket in a room of the house. He hardly even dreamed.

  Late in the day he woke to find Blaze busy hammering out strips of iron and cutting them into bits. “The commander was impressed with your travel on the ice,” he explained. “You made better time than he thought possible. Now I'm making cleats for some of our shoes. There's not time to do the job properly, but perhaps it will help.”

  Meanwhile there were constant councils of war, as the leaders made plans for the engagement. They knew they would be outnumbered and that the Teutonic Knights would have superior cavalry. There were those who claimed that these Crusaders were the finest fighting forces known. Tree wasn't inclined to argue; stupidity was a great asset for a professional fighting man. But they had never fought on ice before, and that just might change things. After all, hadn't the Lithuanians routed the Christians thirty-five years before by fighting them in a swamp which incapacitated the enemy's horses?

  It was actually two more days before Master Otto's army closed on Oesel. That gave the Lithuanian army plenty of time to rest and prepare, as well as to continue with the business of burning and pillaging the rich native settlements. Most of the soldiers did not care to mess with the cleats, but some did, because the cleats enabled them to move with greater confidence on the ice. A number were practicing their swordcraft, to see how it worked on the ice. Others were scrounging for cord and thong, which they attached to the baggage sleds. What were they up to?

  “To tie the sleds together,” Blaze explained briefly. That didn't make much sense, so Tree let it go, not wanting to appear stupid.

  Tree skated out across the ice again, searching for evidence of the enemy. When he found none, the first day after his sleep, he returned with relief to make his report. Privately he hoped that the Christians would not come at all, though that would invalidate his prior report. He just did not relish the notion of battle.

  In the evening they ascended a hill, where they made a fire from the eternal flame, beneath the highest oak tree. They prayed in a group to their god Perkunas. There was only one white-robed virgin priestess there to sanctify the ceremony, because women were a nuisance on any military expedition, but she tended the altar and gave them courage. They also addressed the unseen sacred serpent who was in the groves below the hill. All was snow and ice, but they knew the spirit of the serpent was there.

  Tree's confidence was enhanced by the ceremony. He knew little about the weird rituals of the Christians, and didn't care to. No priestesses? No sacred flame? He had heard they even regarded the serpent as evil. Obviously they were crazy.

  After the ceremony there was a surprise. Blaze brought the priestess to their house. “Keep her out of mischief,” he told Tree.

  “But she's the virgin!” Tree protested, astonished.

  “Precisely. The commander is trusting me to protect her from molestation, and I am delegating you. You should understand her well enough; she's your age.” He went off to his smith works.

  Tree stared at the lovely girl. It was almost as if he had known her before. “I—I don't know what to do,” he said.

  She lifted a hand in a graceful acknowledgment. “I am called Candleflame. All I need is a place to sleep where I won't be seen.” She spoke in the dialect of the Estonians, but he was able to make it out.

  “You can have my bed,” he said quickly. “In our house—I mean the one we are using here.”

  “I must not take your bed,” she said gently.

  Tree found himself blushing. “I didn't mean—”

  She smiled. “I know what you didn't mean. I mean I would not care to deprive you of your bed. Take me to your house and I will make up one of my own.”

  “Yes, of course.” He showed her the way, his embarrassment giving way to fascination. He had never before been this close to a virgin priestess, and was amazed to find that she was much like an ordinary girl. Also that she was Estonian, rather than Lithuanian. The Estonians had always been enemies.

  “I think I should explain my situation,” she said as they walked. “I have lived here on the isle of Oesel, but I must not remain here longer. Our people were converted to Christianity against our will by the Danes and Swordbrothers. Oesel is now considered to be a bishopric allied to the Teutonic Knights. But in our hearts many of us remain true to the flame and serpent. So we are not as much your enemies as we once were. We have a mutual hatred of the Christians.”

  That explained a good deal. But not quite enough. “We came to plunder,” Tree said. “Your town is burning. Why should you help us in our worship, after that?”

  “It is true that we do not like to be ravaged. But we have already been ravaged by the Christians, not only when they conquered us, but when they forced their awful religion on us. You Lithuanians merely ravage us physically, and you will not remain here long. And you spared my family, when we explained that I had religious training and was willing to sanctify the ceremony of the eternal flame.”

  “But then won't the Christians punish you, when they return? For collaborating with us?”

  “Yes. So I can not return to my family. They will say I was taken as a slave by the raiders. But I will instead be taken to a temple and cared for there, and allowed to become a priestess in Samogitia. This is better for me, and for my family.”

  Tree realized that there had been an element of duress in this deal. But it had saved her family from the horrors of being burned out, and perhaps worse. “My grandfather Blaze is an honorable man. He will see that the deal is honored. I will help all I can.”

  “Thank you, Tree.” She smiled, and it was as if a ray of warmth speared into his heart.

  They reached the house, which was now empty. Candleflame searched out straw and a blanket and made herself a private bed, while Tree shored up the hearth fire. Then he retired to his own bed, but sleep was slow to come. The girl was a virgin priestess, never to be intimately touched by a man lest she lose her special spiritual power, yet she was also a pretty girl and inherently fascinating. His guilty imagination brought her to his bed. If only she weren't what she was!

  Blaze tramped in later, flopping on the other bed in the room. Tree was glad for the presence of his grandfather, to whom he almost felt closer than to his father. Blaze was gruff in public, but always listened in private, and never belittled Tree's concerns. Others said that Tree took after his grandfather almost more than his father; that pleased Tree, but his mother never spoke of it.

  In the morning Candleflame was up early, seeing to the hearth and making wheat porridge for them all. “But you shouldn't be doing that!” Tree protested, scrambling up. “You're a priestess!”

  “Who is an ordinary girl by day,” she responded. “Our religious rites have always had to be secret; yesterday was the first time I was able to perform them openly. If the Christians had ever suspected—”

  “Still, in Lithuania—”

  “This isn't Lithuania. But you will take me there. Until then, I will manage as I always have.”

  Blaze woke. “And we shall treat you with the courtesy we accord any Lithuanian woman, and defend you from the dread Christians,” he said. “We shall have to be going out, but you mu
st remain here at the house, hidden.”

  “I thank you for this sanctuary,” Candleflame said, and served out the porridge.

  After breakfast Blaze headed out to do his smithy work, and Tree donned his skates. “What is that?” Candleflame asked, staring at them.

  “Metal-rimmed skates,” he replied proudly. “Blaze made them for me.”

  “Oh, now I see. Bone skates, with metal. Those must be very special.”

  “They are. With them I can skate faster than others can.” He paused, realizing that she seemed knowledgeable on the subject. “Do you skate?”

  “Yes. It is useful, here on the island, in winter.”

  “Maybe Blaze will make you skates like these. Then—” But he balked at the continuation, fearing that he was overstepping his bounds.

  “Then we could skate together,” she finished for him. “That would be nice.”

  Wonderfully nice! Because he was good at skating, instead of awkward as he was in the rest of life. Even though there was no future in it, on skates he could interact on an even basis with a girl. He realized that his grandfather had had something like this in mind when he agreed to board the priestess. He had found a way to give Tree experience with a young woman without embarrassment.

  That day Tree went out on the ice, as before, and this time he spied the enemy. He skated quickly back, readily outdistancing them, and made his report. The Lithuanian army mobilized for action. The time had come.

  “But what about me?” Candleflame asked as he and Blaze prepared to vacate the house. “I can't stay here. Suppose you got killed?”

  “A battle is no place for a girl,” Blaze said gruffly.

  “Maybe she could dress like a boy,” Tree suggested.

  “Yes! That is my best protection,” Candleflame agreed. “Then I can go out with you, and no one will know.”

  “And I'll have two grandsons to run errands,” Blaze said. “Very well. Get changed and join me at my sled.” He moved out.

  They ransacked the house, finding suitable clothing. Candleflame had to do some quick cutting and sewing to make a sheepskin cap. When she bound her flowing fair hair up and back, and covered it with the cap, she did look much like a boy. “But add some dirt,” Tree said. “Boys are slovenly.”

  “Not all of them.” She gave him a fleeting smile, another dart to his heart. “But the point is well taken. Put some dirt on my face, to make it right.”

  “But I mustn't touch you!”

  She laughed. “You may touch my face, Tree. That will not cost me my virginity.”

  Oh. Tree rubbed his hand on the floor, then carefully grimed her face, making her look suitably disreputable. The crude male clothing entirely concealed the contours of her body. But she still looked beautiful to him.

  Then they went out to join Blaze. “Stay close by the sled,” Blaze said gruffly. “This is not going to be fun. You have knives?”

  Tree did, of course, but Candleflame didn't. Blaze dug one out of his collection of iron. “If anyone comes at you, lad, use it this way,” he said. He held the knife at waist height, then made a sharp thrust forward. Candleflame winced, but when he gave her the knife, she made a similar jab at the gut of the imagined man. “But your best strategy is simply to stay clear,” Blaze concluded. “Hunker down on or behind the sled, and don't move. Dead men don't get attacked.”

  Tree put on his skates, so he would be able to move well on the ice. But others had little trouble, for the surface was rough and pitted, with scattered humps, making it seem like a mountainous terrain.

  When the Crusaders came into view, the Lithuanian cavalry rode out on the ice, hauling the sleds. Tree and Candleflame rode the sled with the tools. It would be their job to defend that sled as well as they could, though neither was a trained soldier. Tree was far from sanguine about it, because it was apparent that Master Otto had a force approaching twice the size of their own. Yet ten years ago the Lithuanians had defeated the Knights, when the enemy's allies had had a difference about the division of plunder and had deserted on the battlefield. Of course that was unlikely to happen again. Disaster was threatening.

  Yet Candleflame's presence soon distracted Tree from his own concerns. He was worried about her. She was so much more vulnerable, and so much less experienced in the brute business of war. He had to try to protect her, however he could.

  Then, before engaging the enemy, the Lithuanians dismounted. They led their horses back behind the sleds. Blaze came to stand with his horse a short distance away. “Lash our sled to the ones on either side,” he snapped. And, as an afterthought to Candleflame: “Remember, men don't scream.”

  Good point. If Candleflame got frightened, and made a piercing feminine scream, everyone would know.

  The two of them used the cords to lash the sleds together, as others were doing all across the ice. Now the sleds were making a barrier across the ice. Suddenly that aspect made sense. That would be a real impediment to the enemy cavalry, and to the enemy archers too.

  Meanwhile the Lithuanian archers were lining up behind the barricade, ready to fire from this cover. Tree and Candleflame finished their job and got down behind the sled.

  Her pale face approached his. “I'm terrified!” she confided.

  “So am I,” Tree answered honestly, and was rewarded by a wan smile.

  They saw Christians hold council, then move into attack position. Their cavalry charged across the ice directly at the barricade. Chips of ice flew out from under their horses’ hooves. The force seemed irresistible. Candleflame put both hands to her face, as if to stifle a scream.

  The Lithuanian crossbows let fly. Tree heard the swish of their massed release, like a sudden wind overhead. He peered past the sled, hoping to see a devastating effect. How nice it would be if every Christian were struck through the heart and fell immediately dead, ending the battle! The armor of the mounted knights was strong enough to withstand ordinary arrows, but crossbows, though slow to draw, had more power and accuracy. A number of knights were cut down before they got close enough to engage. But not enough. The great majority continued their charge directly toward Tree and Candleflame. The horses loomed horrifyingly large, like irresistible beasts about to trample everything under their awful hooves. Even the vapor snorting from their big nostrils looked ominous.

  Candleflame's face turned toward him. It was drawn, and tears were brightening her eyes. She was terrified.

  He put his arm around her, and she huddled against him. Again he knew that his own fear was muted by the need to allay hers. “They can't reach us,” he said, hoping it was true.

  The knights came right up to the sleds. Unable to hurdle them, they tried to halt—and their horses’ hooves skidded on the ice, causing a number of them to spook. The ice groaned with the weight, and Tree felt it give way somewhat, but it was too thick to break. That was a relief—or was it? Who would suffer more, if they all got dunked in ice water?

  There was a noise from behind. Tree looked back. “Our men are coming,” he told Candleflame.

  Indeed, the Lithuanian foot soldiers charged up to the sleds, clambered across them, and surrounded the floundering cavalry. They drew their swords and cut down the horses before the Crusader foot soldiers at the flanks could get there. Blood flowed out across the ice, and the agonized squealing of the horses was dreadful. Tree hoped the blood wouldn't reach their sled; he didn't want Candleflame to see it.

  But she did. She winced. “Those poor horses!”

  Then the soldiers cut down the stranded knights. “That's Master Otto!” Blaze exclaimed, recognizing the dread standard of the enemy leader. Tree saw the man being hacked at from three sides, and in a moment he went down. His knights tried to rally to his defense, but they too were cut down. The Lithuanians’ practice on the ice, and perhaps the cleats of some of them, gave them the advantage. The ice was littered with Christian bodies: ten, twenty—there must be fifty or more of them, killed before they could be rescued by their own troops. What a victory!r />
  Then the enemy flanks arrived. Their strength was too much, and they scattered the Lithuanians. The battle was turning the other way despite the decimation of the knights. Tree saw the Lithuanian soldiers being mobbed, their blood joining that of the hated Christians, and their formation was broken up. Soon the Christians were pursuing the fugitives across the ice, and cutting them down without mercy. Blood was congealing on the frozen surface. Tree cowered down on his sled, hoping no enemy would realize that he and Candleflame were there and slay them. Only Blaze remained upright, at his age not expected to be a combatant, but determined to defend his sled regardless.

  But the Christians had made another tactical mistake. Their forces were now being scattered, because of their pursuit of the fleeing Lithuanian flanks. Their formation had dissolved. The Lithuanian center forged across the sled barrier and attacked those out-of-position Teutonic flanks from inside. Suddenly a second massacre was in the making.

  Candleflame recovered some of her poise. She lifted her head and saw the carnage before the sleds. “Oh, I don't like battle!” she said fervently.

  “Neither do I,” Tree agreed with similar emotion. “I wish this were over. And maybe it will be, soon.”

  But it wasn't over. The Crusader cavalry was tough and competent. It managed to regroup despite the harassment. Then it launched a series of attacks which took the attention of the Lithuanian center. Now the advantage of the horsemen counted solidly, and they inflicted heavy losses. The Lithuanian army was pushed back over the sleds in one place. Then it was pushed over in another section, as the knights gradually achieved control of the center. Then it happened by the smithy sled. “Get away from here!” Blaze cried. “We can't hold the line.”

  But it was already too late. A knight charged near the sled. His sword swept down, severing the cord, and the sled lost its connection to its neighbor and began to slide out of place. Candleflame emitted a stifled scream.