Women of Wasps and War

by Madeleine D'Este

  Froma fell in a heap. Danis stepped back and sat at his desk, scraping his chair along the floorboards. Froma spluttered and coughed as she rubbed at her bruised throat, her cheek resting against the cool wood.

  'Get out of my sight.' He grumbled and poured himself more wine.

  Froma dragged herself to her feet without a word. She corked her tears, lifted her chin and stumbled out of the room. She fled up the stairs and closed her chamber door firmly behind her. With a whimper, she collapsed onto her bed and curled into a ball, gingerly tracing the tender marks on her neck.

  A few days back from war and once again, she must mask her bruises. There was no new leaf.

  She could not live this way. She would not. Her fists tightened around her eiderdown as her tears dried on her cheeks.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Kalin drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and stared into the crackling fire. He clenched his jaw. Night had fallen and Seliv had not returned with news from the Alleys.

  Eleven years ago, Kalin had taken his oath as Master of the Shield, Protector of the Duchy and, most importantly, Protector of the Duke himself. Eleven long, quiet years he'd served his friend. And the one day when the Duke truly needed him, he had not been by his side. His failure to prevent the soldier's blow haunted him day and night.

  'M'Lord.' Seliv took up most of the doorway. 'Sorry to disturb you.'

  'Where have you been?' Kalin glanced up from the fire. 'I presume you found the churl?'

  'No, my Lord. No sign of him.'

  Kalin grunted. 'What is it then?'

  'Another incident this evening in another tavern in the Alleys. A man is dead. They are saying he was bleeding from the mouth.'

  Kalin's eyebrows soared. 'The red death?'

  'It could be, m'Lord.'

  'Was a physician called?'

  Seliv shrugged. 'Alley people, m'Lord.'

  Kalin tugged at his beard. Ambrovna had been lucky until now. Other towns across the Four Rivers Kingdom had lost thousands of otherwise healthy people from the illness. On his long journey to the battlefields, Kalin had passed through wastelands of weed-filled villages with empty huts and untended fields, regions so stricken there were no men left to pledge for the war effort.

  'Who was this man?' Kalin groaned as he stood. He'd returned from war an old man.

  'Some sluggard back from the war like the rest of us.'

  'He probably brought it back with him.' Kalin grimaced. 'We should have scrubbed every man clean before they came over the hills.' He shuddered to think what other illnesses the men had brought back with them. He scratched his own groin, pondering the cleanliness of Sulun's pleasure houses.

  'Shall I call Tveldt?'

  He shook his head. 'Dispose of the body. If it is the red death, burning will get rid of the illness. Hopefully he's the only one.' Kalin rubbed his chin. 'And tell no one. Quash any rumours. We do not want panic.'

  'In the eyes of the Father. Will you inform the Duke?'

  'Not this evening. With the Allotment and the Spawning Festival, the Duke has plenty on his mind.'

  Seliv bowed his big head.

  'But if you hear even a whisper about any other infections, come to me immediately. A second case is a completely different matter.'

  ***

  Rabel's shack was suddenly filled with a blur of unfamiliar faces covered in kerchiefs. Aula and Jorn wailed as men in terracotta uniforms shouted into Rabel's face, waving flaming torches. Cowering, she covered her eyes. She would put up no resistance, she decided. She deserved this.

  But no one touched her.

  Rabel wrenched open her eyes to find the men wrapping Iwan and Teo in hessian.

  'Red death,' someone said. 'Two?'

  Rabel clutched at her belly. The red death? 'Where are you taking them?' she croaked but no one replied.

  The men picked up the shrouds and carried them out of the door. Rabel scuttled to block their path and screeched, her fingers extended like claws. 'Where are you taking them?'

  A guard shoved her aside with an elbow, sending her stumbling back against the wall. She scurried after them through the open door and into the night.

  'Help me,' she yelled into the dark alleys. Her neighbour's homes were too quiet, everyone peered from the shadows but no one came to help.

  In her bare feet, Rabel followed the guards with eels on their chest down the narrow alleys, onto the main street.

  'Stop! What are you doin' with them?' she screamed, tugging at their tunics but the masked guards ignored her. Old Orvald ushering them inside the Brickworks where smoke plumed from the kiln.

  'No!' she screeched.

  A guard, smaller than the others with hair like a hedgehog, turned and pushed her back with the butt of his pike, careful not to lay a finger on her. 'It has to be done,' he said, his voice muffled under his kerchief.

  She watched, arms hanging heavy, as the guards tipped the two bodies into the roaring flames and clamped the door shut.

  Rabel's face contorted in anguish, but her eyes remained dry. An innocent like Teo deserved better than this. Even Iwan. Where would they go without the proper words from a Cousin to guide them to the Father?

  The guards farewelled Orvald, wiped their hands and turned back towards the town. With shoulders hunched, Rabel waited for them to grab her by the arm and take her to the dungeons.

  'Go home, woman,' one of the guards growled.

  Rabel paused, anticipating the heavy hand on her shoulder.

  'Are you deaf? Go on. Get out of here.'

  The guards marched ahead of her into the dark, chuckling as they took off their kerchiefs.

  Rabel wandered home alone, slow and numb.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The next day, to our surprise, the lock on our room was unlatched and we were free to wander about Meeraq. My fellow Cousin was nursing a powerful headache from the poison water and he grumbled at my heels.

  As we stepped out of our room, a sour-faced woman with cropped white hair appeared.

  'I shall be your guide today,' she said in our language and the Cousin grumbled quietly by my side. I too would have preferred to explore the town without an escort but I nodded.

  'This way,' she said curtly.

  Meeraq was unlike any town I'd visited before. Women were everywhere we went. They were stony-eyed guards with swords by their sides, silver-tongued traders and soot-covered blacksmiths hammering shields while the men happily carried babies and fussed over children. And not one person seemed richer than another. I saw no lords or ladies, peasants or barefoot urchins. Even Queen Magnilla dressed modestly compared to the gold and jewels of Queen Hendriet of Sulun.

  I remarked on my observations to the Cousin as we partook in a pot of the local milky tea, but he only grunted. The woman running the tea-stall assured us with gestures that the strong sour drink was a cure for my Cousin's pounding head. While we enjoyed our tea, our gruff translator sat separately, smoking a pipe with two other Akull guards in leather jerkins. Every now and then they looked up, eying us suspiciously.

  Throughout the day as we wandered, I poured over the Teachings in my head, searching for the perfect passages to convince Queen Magnilla of the wisdom of the Father. I think best when I walk, so when we finished our tea, we continued to roam until we found ourselves outside the pine-cone-shaped dome again, the Umbaz as the Meeraq people called it. A queue of people streamed out down the steps, men and women, young and old.

  'What is happening?' I asked our translator.

  She pursed her lips and answered. 'Today is Court Day. The Queen is presiding.'

  'Over what?'

  'Disputes. Administrative matters.'

  I blinked and lifted my eyebrows. 'She is a good ruler?' I said, trying to hide the doubt in my voice. I had presumed Magnilla was a figurehead and that other men did the true work of the nobility.

  'Of course,' the woman said, rolling her eyes.

  'I know little of your history. Is Magnilla you
r first Queen? Did the King die and leave no heirs?'

  The woman tutted. 'The first child is always ruler. Woman or man.'

  I rubbed my chin. 'And she is not irrational or weak?'

  'She is the wisest of us all.' The woman folded her arms.

  'Does she preside over crimes? Murders? Not subjects suitable for ladies.'

  'You have some strange ideas, Southerner,' said our female translator shaking her head. 'Come and see for yourself.'

  I was keen to witness the Queen's deliberations. We climbed the steps and peered through the open doorway. A long queue snaked inside. Magnilla sat on her throne, dressed in bone-coloured tunic and trousers, her white hair coiled around her head. A silver icicle-shaped pendant swung from her neck.

  'Go in,' said our stony-faced escort. 'But no talking.'

  I nodded and slipped off my boots while my Cousin chose to remain outside. I approached the throne and stood to the side. The Queen glanced at me briefly. I smiled but she looked away, her face unchanged. Two men stood before her, one fat with straggly thin hair, the other elderly with a walleye. Both were grimacing, caps in hand.

  The translator sidled up to me. As Magnilla spoke in her native tongue, she interpreted quietly into my ear.

  'Knag. You bring shame on your family with your spite. You will pay fourteen coins to Lempi. I will hear no more of your bickering about the wall. You must learn to live as neighbours.'

  Knag, the balding fat man, lowered his head. 'I only--'

  'Enough excuses. This is my final judgement. Pay the fine and work with Lempi. The Clan cannot allow such quarrelling. We must work together and resolve our differences.'

  He nodded but pursed his lips.

  'Thank you, my Queen,' said the white-haired man as he bowed his head. The two turned without another word and the next man in line approached the throne.

  'What is your complaint?'

  The young man straightened his spine and lifted his chin high. 'I am Borild, apprentice sled-maker. I wish to complain about Alu Biar.'

  The Queen raised an eyebrow. 'And what is the nature of your complaint?'

  'She broke our contract.' The young man's neck flushed as he spoke. 'I want you to enforce our agreement.'

  'What contract?'

  'She agreed to be my bride...' he said, thrusting out his chest. 'But she has thrown me aside for Balbin Canu.'

  Two grey-headed women, next in line, sniggered. I raised my eyebrows. A woman refusing a betrothal? Unheard of. Her father must have intervened to prevent the union.

  'What do you want me to do about it?' the Queen scoffed.

  'Enforce it, my Queen.'

  'You want to force her when she does not want to be your wife?' the Queen asked, her face straight.

  'But she agreed...'

  I shook my head. A woman reneging on her betrothal? This was a serious matter. A girl should be happy to be chosen by any man for his wife. To be a wife and mother is the true path of a woman's life. Perhaps the Akull women were not so different; they still lacked the logic to make decisions. This is why they needed men.

  'I will not enforce your contract,' the Queen said. 'She is free to choose who she loves. You cannot force another to love you, no matter how you try.'

  As the guide translated, I gasped and covered my mouth. Borild's face was scarlet. His eyes flashed as he dropped his head and turned away from the throne. A stocky male guard blocked Borild's path with his sword. 'Remember your place, apprentice. Give thanks to your Queen.'

  He stopped, screwing up his face. 'Thank you, my Queen,' he said through gritted teeth.

  The Queen narrowed her eyes. 'If I hear of you making trouble between Alu and Balbin, there will be consequences. Understand?'

  Borild bowed his head. 'Yes, my Queen.'

  The Queen shook her head as Borild stomped away. She whispered into the ear of her stocky guard who saluted and followed the jilted man out of the Umbaz. I decided to follow them and our translator trailed behind me.

  I found the guard speaking intensely but quietly to Borild, who was staring at his boots, shifting his weight like a boy receiving a scolding from his father. Borild's lips were tight, his shoulders high. The heavyset guard jabbed his finger into Borild's chest and walked away. Borild spat on the ground, but only once the guard was gone.

  I turned to my guide. 'Help me speak to him,' I said. She squinted but agreed. We approached Borild, who glared at me, arms folded. The guide interpreted as I spoke. 'I understand your anger, young man. You have been slighted,' I said.

  'You are from the South?' His eyes lit up.

  'The Neven Clan.' I nodded. 'I have come to teach your people about my Father. Our Protector in the sky.' I smiled as I recognised a welcome ear. 'This would never be allowed to happen in my land.'

  'She lied,' Borild said. 'Made a fool of me.'

  'Where I am from, women know their place. They support the men. They do not choose.'

  The guide frowned and cleared her throat before she spoke, I had to trust she passed on my words truthfully. Borild's face was keen with interest.

  A tall man shoved his way between us. 'Don't listen to this fool,' he said to Borild.

  Borild deflated and turned away, but I did not give up so easily. My Scion said persistence was my most admirable trait.

  'If you need someone to talk to, I am a good listener. Or if you wish to hear more of the Father's Teachings, come and find me. Day or night. I know you will find solace in His wisdom as I have.' My last sentences were shouted, calling out after Borild as he disappeared out of view and into the crowd. The guide dutifully repeated my words and the other townspeople waiting in the queue at the Umbaz glared at me. Some folded their arms. 'The offer is open to everyone,' I said loudly, looking into every single face. 'I am here if you wish to learn about the Father and his glorious love.'

  Someone laughed.

  'Southern scum,' a man said in my tongue, barely intelligible.

  A drop of rain hit me on the cheek and I glanced up into the sky, flicking the raindrop away with my fingers but the sky was clear. More drops hit my face and then I realised the women were spitting on me.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  The next morning, Agata swept into the Great Hall, beaming at her husband at the head of the table. The sun shone through the lead-lined windows illuminating the long table with criss-cross patterns. A sapphire sky outside.

  'My love,' the Duke said, and she went to him, despite the guards and the servants lining the walls. He threaded his arm around her waist and pulled her to his lips. 'My flower.'

  Giggling and blushing, she untangled herself from his embrace and with a longing look under her eyelashes, she took her seat. Her stomach grumbled and she waved to the serving girl to pile her plate with bread.

  'There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, dear husband,' Agata said, slathering her bread with soft white cheese. For some unknown reason, figs were banned in Ambrovna. She dearly missed her homeland breakfasts of the luscious fruit. Tomorrow she would ask the Duke why and try to convince him to change the ban but today there were more important matters to discuss.

  'The war widows--'

  'The Scion has already--'

  The doors opened and Kalin entered like a cold wind, his sword clanging by his side, his jaw set. The Seneschal followed closely behind, thin and stooping like a river reed.

  'Good morning, my Lord,' Kalin said as he bowed.

  'And to you, Lord Kalin. Sit. Eat.'

  Agata suppressed a frown, their time alone was over for another day.

  Kalin scraped his chair across the brick floor and a homely serving girl instantly offered a plate as she stifled a little giggle.

  Agata squinted. What did other women see in the pompous Master of the Shield?

  'How do you look so refreshed, Kalin?' The Duke enquired. 'I feel as though Death spat me back into this world.'

  'Practice, my Lord. You must be ageing.'

  'Pfft. How dare you insult your Duke
in this way?' the Duke grinned.

  'I only speak the truth, my Lord. This is why you appreciate my service.'

  The Duke laughed riotously and Agata forced a smile but as always Kalin paid her no attention.

  Even before the war, Kalin barely acknowledged Agata's existence and on the rare and fleeting occasions he met her eyes, he glared with animosity. Since the defeat of her Clansmen and the rumours about her brother, her political value had turned to dust and she was certain he spoke ill of her to the Duke. Kalin had ample opportunity to whisper poison in his ears or make hateful jokes during their long nights of drinking.

  Agata took another piece of bread and chewed silently. She would not allow him to drive a rift between them.

  'Is everything prepared for this morning?' her husband said.

  'My men are already on their way, but first my Lord, I bring troubling news from the Alleys. Two deaths overnight, a man and a young boy. There are rumours of the red death.'

  'No,' the Duke gasped.

  Agata's mouth dropped open. They said the red death hits suddenly, turning into a torrent of bleeding from every orifice until the body ran dry. Towns and villages in other parts of the Kingdom had built high walls to contain the spread.

  'We burned the bodies last night. To stop the blight.'

  'Who were the dead?'

  'Some good-for-nothing and his son. Of no importance. No leasehold or stable employment.'

  'It could easily spread through the Alleys. Are there others? What of his family?'

  'A wife and two babes. My men said they showed no signs of sickness but I have a guard outside their hut, waiting for your instructions.'

  The Duke sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Agata's belly churned. She was glad she no longer sat in the Duke's place this morning.