Women of Wasps and War

by Madeleine D'Este

  Agata fidgeted with the silver tassels at her belt, his words resting uncomfortably on her shoulders. Suddenly she was eight summers old again, the first time she felt the weight of her high-born position, the crack of the birch switch still loud in her ears.

  'I have made my decision,' he sighed.

  'What if I do something wrong, my Lord?' she said, her voice cracking. 'I could wreck it all.'

  'Nothing should go wrong,' the Duke smiled weakly, patting her knee. 'The fighting is far away on the borders of Tramissa and Nithese.'

  Agata pressed her lips tightly. Sun-soaked Tramissa was her homeland but with the upheaval of Civil War and the jostle for the throne between the Four Clans, Agata must keep her fears for her family to herself. This was not the time to remind her husband she was born into the Neven Clan.

  'The battles should not cross the Jahan Ranges. The town will be safe. All able-bodied men are obliged to come with me. Except for the Fatherhood, of course. The Scion will continue his role as spiritual adviser to the Duchy. He will be here to support you.'

  She shivered at the thought of a personal audience with him. In peacetime, Scion Zavis would not lower himself to meet with a woman alone, even the Duchess.

  'Do not worry about Zavis. I have known him all my life and he has always been a crop of prickles but he is also very wise. Actually...' the Duke rubbed his fingers through his goatee. 'Yes. This has been done before. A hundred or more years ago. If you are so unwilling...there is another option. The Scion could preside over the Duchy while I am gone?'

  'No,' The words catapulted out of her mouth before Agata even finished the thought. Her heart thundered as she realised she had no other choice. She must make her mother proud. She lowered her head. 'I will take on the task, my Lord.'

  The Duke nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder. 'With the assistance of the Scion and Lord Sylwin, you will manage Ambrovna well.'

  Agata pictured herself sitting on the carved throne in the cavernous Great Hall of the Eel with an old man on either side telling her what to do and say. If only she had a wise sister or aunt or mother-in-law in the castle, but she walked the corridors alone. 'Could I ask some of the other women to assist? Maybe Lady Reyna. And other capable women. A committee? We could work together.'

  The Duke frowned. 'A group of women presiding in the Great Hall? It would be irregular.'

  'This is war.' She held her body still, her eyes wide. 'We must make do.'

  The Duke rubbed the back of his neck. 'I suppose there could be no harm in it. Although the Scion will likely have a different view.'

  'I would be wise with their counsel.' Agata nodded heartily.

  'Remember the final decision lies with you,' the Duke said. 'These women cannot influence you. You have a position to uphold. You are the House of Nyvard in Ambrovna. You are me.'

  'Hurry back,' she had said breathily, clasping his hand.

  ***

  The procession marched towards the town Square past the finer homes and stores with their curlicued eaves and red geraniums swinging in baskets. Women and children in fine silks and threadbare hessian streamed into the streets, crying and singing, cheering and grinning.

  A gust brought the first taste of sea air and the sounds of jaunty fiddles and pipes to the Duke. His heart swelled as he watched the town embrace their returned men, thrusting mugs of cider into their hands, slapping their backs. Tears of relief and joy flowed freely. Until this moment, few knew the true fate of their fathers and sons.

  One side of the Square led to the blue sea where the wooden jetty was lined with moored fishing boats. A gnarled tree, which was older than anyone remembered, dominated the centre with its trunk as thick as the Temple columns. Shiny ravens, their keen eyes watching over the proceedings, cawed from the twisted branches, which were looped with terracotta eel sigil pennants.

  Further ahead, the steep avenue led up to the Duke's castle, which was carved into the red rocky cliffs. The tower, like a sentinel, proudly thrust into the sky overseeing his lands below. This was the longest time the Duke had spent away from the familiar sheer red-brick walls wrapped in verdant ivy, his home since birth.

  'Pull back,' shouted Lord Kalin and the men shuffled into rows. The Duke guided his horse to the head of the procession for the final steps into the town Square, a smile on his lips but a tightness in his chest.

  ***

  Rabel loitered by the cotton merchant's store away from the crowd while Teo squeezed to the front.

  'Pa? Pa?' he cried, his voice drowned out by the singing and cheering. His was only one of many calling out the same words.

  Rabel held her breath, the knot in her stomach pulling tighter with each wiry man with shaggy honey-coloured hair that passed. But Rabel didn't scour the crowd with longing or anticipation.

  'A sin in thought is as real as words or deeds. A true follower's mind is as clear as a sunny day, with only the light from the Father, the Sun.'

  Closing her eyes, she circled her forehead, but the all-knowing Father already heard the wickedness in her heart. He knew what she wished for.

  Rabel would be happier if she never set eyes on her husband again.

  Chapter Four

  A breath caught in Agata's chest and her cinnamon-coloured eyes lit up. Perfectly positioned on the dais in front of the Avenue, she saw him the moment he entered the Square. He was so handsome and tall as he led his charge of men. The townspeople burst into song, the song of Ambrovna.

  'Ambrovna, the town the Father has blessed,

  Our Duke in the castle, the eel on his chest.

  The red rocky cliffs, the bountiful sea,

  The Temple, the hills and the Old Man Tree.

  Our men stand strong, our women obey

  And with every breath to the Father we pray.

  Ambrovna, the town the Father has blessed,

  Our Duke in the castle, the eel on his chest.'

  The townspeople's proud words bounced off the cobbles and brick buildings. Everyone sang along, even the small boys and girls. Everyone except for Agata. She could only mouth the words, her time in Ambrovna had been too short to commit the song to heart. This was yet another reminder she was an outsider.

  As her husband passed the Old Man Tree, he looked up to the dais and their eyes met. He smiled, he was not yet thirty summers old but his face was gaunt and etched with new wrinkles. What horrors had he seen in the past year? Deaths, maimings and worse still, the politics of the new court of King Absalom in Sulun? Sulun, the capital of the Four Rivers Kingdom, sat at the conflux of the five rivers. This was neutral territory where the five rivers met, including the border with the independent and wild territory of the Akull, the fifth clan.

  Unlike his men who were more like a troupe of vagabonds with their scruffy tunics and torn hose, the Duke's beard was trimmed and his tunic was clean. Agata averted her eyes as wives rushed into their husbands’ arms and kissed them passionately. No matter how much she missed him, no matter how much she yearned, a Duchess must remain on the dais and smile. Their own reunion would be behind closed doors. She wet her lips. Only a few more hours.

  ***

  Begrudgingly satisfied with the cleanliness of the store front, Froma joined the rest of Ambrovna in the town Square, her nose high in the air. She pursed her mouth as all around, the lower classes humped and groped like animals. She curtseyed long and low as the Duke passed but his eyes were firmly trained on the dais. And on Duchess Agata.

  Froma, whose stature was advantageous, searched the battalion of returning men, her heart battering under her chemise. Her belly pinched at the sight of a rusty-headed burly man on a chestnut mare at the rear. Danis. His cheeks were even rosier and his fish lips thicker than she remembered. Froma gulped as their eyes met and she forced a smile. He waved in her direction but continued on, following the procession towards the stage. She twisted her gold betrothal band around and around her finger as the townspeople rejoiced.

  ***

  'Mama. Mama,' Te
o cried, forcing his way back through the townspeople. The broad grin on his little face made his big eyes appear even bigger.

  Her heart dropped like a stone as a honey-headed man appeared behind him.

  Iwan.

  'Look at you.' Iwan pinched the twins' cheeks. His chin was covered in bristles, his nose as red as an apple. 'Not babes anymore.'

  The twins scurried away from his reach and hid behind Rabel's patched skirts.

  'Forgotten your old Pa?' he teased, pulling them out by the hands. Aula immediately burst into tears and Jorn looked up with a trembling lip.

  'Pa's a hero,' Teo told his brother and sister, puffing out his skinny ribs. 'Tell us. How many Hende Clansmen did you slay?'

  'Only done my duty, son. One day you'll get to do the same.' Iwan turned and leered. 'Lost your tongue, wife? Aren't you glad to see me?'

  'Course I am,' Rabel said with a slight purse of her lips. She leaned in and kissed his rough cheek, her stomach turning at the familiar sickly scent of his cider breath. 'Thank the Father for your return.'

  She willed back her tears as his hand clutched her bottom.

  'Not much there,' he grunted. 'But enough.'

  Rabel's whole body drooped. Life was returning to normal. The Father never listened to a sinner like her.

  ***

  The Duke's bay mare approached the pennant-trimmed dais and Agata's pulse thundered in her ears. Giddy as a child, she clenched her fists to force herself to remain still. Today was like her betrothal day all over again.

  The Master of the Shield rode closely behind her husband. Lord Kalin, the keeper of law and order, with his stern face and jet-black hair. His colouring was unusual for an Ambrovnan man, much like her own.

  Kalin slipped from his horse first and stopped in front of the Duke. Agata raised an eyebrow. Had a year at war given Kalin a new set of manners? The Duke held his friend's forearm and Agata gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the real reason for Kalin's kindness. The Duke's left stocking was empty.

  Stinging tears sprang to her eyes but she bit down on her lower lip and crushed her fingers together on her lap. The eyes of the town were upon her.

  The Duke hobbled off his horse, resting on Kalin's shoulder. Kalin gestured angrily and a squire scurried over with an iron paddle. The jovial crowd fell silent and bowed their heads. Men nodded to wives and children as the Duke struggled up the three steps to the dais. Agata gripped the arms of her carved chair, holding herself back from rushing to his aid. She was worldly enough to know bringing attention to a man's weakness was never appreciated. Why were his letters silent about his injury? Why did he keep the secret until now?

  The Duke limped towards her and his throne. She jumped to her feet, curtseying deeply and he smiled down at her, his slate-grey eyes shining with a strange mix of pain and happiness. Beaming back, she blinked away her tears and gestured to his empty throne. He waved her away and turned outwards, facing his subjects.

  'People of Ambrovna. We have returned triumphant.'

  The people cheered and hollered. Horns tooted.

  'We lost many Ambrovnan men and many fellow Vorosy Clansmen in our campaign. They fought bravely for the Clan and the Father welcomed them into the Land Beyond the Sunset with all our past ancestors and warriors.'

  Some people stared blankly, others dropped their heads to mask their sniffles and muffled sobs.

  'I am thankful to be back in my town of Ambrovna with the sea, the red cliffs and my beautiful wife.' He turned to Agata. 'As you can all see, I have had my own minor loss. A leg severed in a battle with the Hende Clan. Although I may not be quite the dancer I once was, let me assure you, this changes nothing.'

  He smiled and his men chuckled. Agata fixed a smile on her face while her heart squashed like a wine press.

  'I am alive and well and will continue to serve as your Lord as we enter into a new era under a new King. One of our own, the head of our Vorosy Clan. I was lucky enough to meet with King Absalom on a number of occasions in Sulun and he thanked me for your bravery, assuring me he was a friend of Ambrovna. Tonight, we celebrate but tomorrow we return to our old way of life. The life we love.' The Duke turned on his crutch towards the red brick Temple and Cloisters on the Western side of the Square. The bald, eyebrow-less Scion and fifteen similarly hairless Cousins stood in a row, their arms tucked inside their bronze-coloured tunics. 'Scion Zavis, will you say a prayer for our fallen men?'

  The Scion, as gnarled as the Old Man Tree, moved to the stage with the swiftness of a much younger man. The people kneeled and the Duke sat in his throne next to Agata. She grasped his hand until her knuckles were white.

  'Be gentle, dear wife,' he whispered and she instantly dropped her grip.

  The gnome-like Scion cleared his throat, his circular pendant swinging at his neck. 'The Father watches over us all. The Father blesses our land with his radiant benevolence which we call the Sun.'

  Scion Zavis scoured the crowd with murky green eyes hidden under drooping eyelids. The lack of eyebrows made his stare seem razor-sharp and Agata knew the weight of his glare well.

  'He is a good Father when we are good children. All-knowing and wise, he rewards us when we respect his wishes and punishes us when we betray him. He protects our men in battle but in the end, he rewards the faithful by inviting them to join him in the Land Beyond the Sunset.'

  The Scion's words were full of the love and forgiveness of the Father but Scion Zavis was as uncompromising as the surrounding brick walls. Agata's first introduction to the Fatherhood of Ambrovna on her betrothal day had left her speechless, yet no one else seemed alarmed when he sermonised about a man cleansing the diseased soil of a woman. How often was she reminded? A woman's body is sinful and there is a place in the Land of Eternal Darkness for the unclean who do not abide by His rules.

  'The Father is pleased by the valour and bravery of the men from Ambrovna and we are forever grateful to him for our victory and the return of so many. We shall repay him with our hard work, our obedience and respect. In the eyes of the Father.'

  'In the eyes of the Father,' the townspeople echoed. Agata and the Duke drew the eye symbol of the Father with a swirl of their fingers on their forehead as did all the townspeople.

  'Bring him forth,' the Scion said.

  The crowd hushed and parted as four men carried a shrouded body on their shoulders towards the jetty. The men unfurled the wrappings and lay the death-blackened blood-smeared corpse on a raft.

  'We send our departed Lord Eimel to the Land Beyond the Sunset to join the Father and all other soldiers who gave their lives selflessly. He fought bravely for Ambrovna and we ask the Father to welcome him.'

  The men lowered the raft into the water and pushed the naked Lord Eimel out to sea.

  'In the name of the Father,' the Scion said and Ambrovna repeated his words.

  Agata's heart clenched. Her husband could have easily been the one floating out to sea. She said her own private heartfelt thanks to the Father as the waves carried Lord Eimel away.

  'Now we celebrate!' shouted the Duke.

  The crowd roared. A squire scampered onto the stage with a silver tray and the Duke and Agata charged their goblets as joyous tunes on fiddles and pipes filled the air.

  Agata reached over to her husband and whispered. 'Why did you not tell me?'

  'I did not want you to worry.' He patted her hand.

  'Welcome home.' The Scion interrupted without bowing. Two Cousins stood behind him. 'The Father is pleased with your offering and he has rewarded you with life.'

  The Duke lifted a red-gold eyebrow. 'I thank the Father for saving my life, but my leg is long gone.'

  'Maybe it is in the Land Beyond the Sunset,' Kalin said with dark eyes twinkling.

  Scion Zavis narrowed his eyes. 'The battlefield has not taught you any humility, it appears.'

  Kalin shrugged, holding out his empty goblet to the squire.

  'Now you are home safely, I must insist the old order is replace
d as soon as possible. The Advisory Council must meet tomorrow. It is imperative.'

  'Within the next day or so.' The Duke waved his hand.

  'The war is over and normal life must resume. Everything must be returned to its rightful place.'

  'I have some--' Agata started but the Scion silenced her with a glare.

  The Duke sighed. 'We have been travelling for ten days, Scion, and I can only think of my own bed.'

  'Another day of ungodliness may be the undoing of this town.'

  'I disa--' Agata tried again.

  'Tomorrow. I urge you. Do you wish to give the Father a reason to show his displeasure? Look around at the state of the town.'

  Kalin snorted. 'The ivy is rather thick on the castle walls.'

  'Tomorrow, then.' The Duke's shoulders slumped. 'But in the afternoon. Leave me now and we shall meet in my Cabinet after luncheon.'

  Agata breathed out slowly through her nostrils, her cheeks burning.

  'Excellent.' The Scion stepped away with a flicker of a smirk in her direction. 'The Father will be pleased that all is returned to its proper place.'

  'You are absolved of your duties immediately it appears,' the Duke said to Agata, tapping her forearm. 'This should be a relief. You were not keen on the responsibility when I left.'

  Agata paused. She had so much to share.

  'Yes, my Lord.' She smiled weakly, clasping her hands in her lap. 'I am glad you have returned.'

  The Duke lifted his goblet in the air, laughing and pointing to a rubbery acrobat tying himself in knots. Agata collapsed into her chair and into the background, where the Scion thought she belonged.

  Chapter Five

  From her place in the far corner of the dais, Sira watched the Duchess crumble. Last night her mistress' eyes had gleamed with hope.