Jorn wailed.
'You must take them, too,' she pleaded.
'Not my problem.' The guard gripped her by the arm and dragged her like a sack of salt across the floor towards the ladder.
'I'm not leavin' without them!' Rabel thrust out her free hand, wedging herself inside the trapdoor.
The man yanked hard, jolting her arm from the socket.
'No!' she groaned through gritted her teeth. She pressed a foot against the floor but the guard was stronger, inching her down the ladder headfirst.
'You're comin' with me.'
A second bearded guard stood at the base of the ladder.
'My children,' Rabel screamed to him. 'I'll come. Willingly. But you must bring them.'
'She's a feisty one,' laughed the bearded guard. 'Watch her. She'll sting you.'
Rabel stopped short. What did the guard mean? Distracted, she didn't notice she'd loosened her grip.
'Got you.' The red-nosed guard chuckled as he tugged and she slipped down the ladder, missing half the rungs. She crashed into him before hitting the ground hard.
'My babes,' she wailed.
'You make me sick.' The bearded one wrenched her to her feet and marched her through the courtyard. 'Play acting like you're worried about your children. What about your boy? The one you killed?'
'My children,' she howled. 'Teo'. All strength drained from her body.
'Shut up.' The bearded guard spat on the cobbles and jumped into the cart beside her. 'Murderess.'
Rabel curled up and sobbed as the cart rumbling down the street.
The Father's revenge is swift and absolute.
***
The Duke stood by his Cabinet window overlooking the lit up Square below. The roast chestnut seller was at his kettle fire, serving a gang of peckish carpenters while other traders set up their stalls in preparation for an early start in the morning.
Two Cousins were scrubbing the already spotless Temple facade and beside them in the Allotment pen, the women clustered together in the chilly evening air. A nimble girl had scaled the high walls of the pen and one of the young guards was stabbing his pike at her from the outside. The Duke watched as the girl surrendered. She let go of her grip and jumped back down to the ground, her shoulders rounding as she rejoined the others.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
'Enter.'
Kalin strode into the room.
'I'm looking forward to the Festival,' the Duke said, rubbing his hands. 'The Duchess has done well. Everything seems in place.'
The Master of the Shield paused in the centre of the room, his lips pursed.
The Duke frowned. Ordinarily, his friend's face was a blank page but Kalin's eyes darted about the room as he scratched at his beard.
'What's wrong, my friend?' the Duke hobbled over to his desk and tumbled into his seat, grimacing at his own lack of grace.
Kalin cleared his throat and adjusted his tunic. The Duke's stomach flipped. The blackmailer.
'I have a very delicate matter to discuss with you, my Lord.'
The word must be out, thought the Duke. All of Ambrovna would be whispering about his cowardice.
'Do we need wine?'
'Most definitely, my Lord.'
Kalin poured two goblets and both men took a hearty gulp.
'What is troubling you?' the Duke asked.
Kalin sat with a sigh. 'It concerns the Duchess.'
'Is she hurt?' he gasped.
'Your wife has been accused of a serious crime, my Lord.'
'Ridiculous,' the Duke snorted with relief. 'Who is the accuser?'
'The Plesec woman. The one who poisoned your blackmailer. She claims the Duchess gave her the poison.'
The Duke chuckled and shook his head.
'She named the Duchess, her maid and the maid's sister and said all three were involved in the poisoning of her husband.'
'A conspiracy?' The Duke leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine. 'A fine tale for the ale houses. I admit my wife was a little upset earlier today. Women can be like that. But a murderess?'
'People are already calling them Wasp Women.'
The Duke frowned. This was a term he had not heard in years. 'People?'
'Mistress Plesec made her accusation in front of the Initial Council, which included a number of guards. I warned them to keep their mouths closed but--'
'Add treason to the list of the merchant's wife's accusations. I will not allow anyone to spread such lies about my wife.'
Kalin chewed on his lip. 'Perhaps there is some truth to it, my Lord. I have always wondered about Sira with that witch-mark. And they say Wasp Women are like weeds in Tramissa.'
'How dare you!' the Duke said, slamming his fist on the table. 'You may be my friend but remember your place! I will not have my wife's name besmirched.'
'There is a connection between all four women.' Kalin held his hands up. 'And there is evidence.'
The Duke folded his arms tightly. 'Go on.'
'Sira's sister is the woman we suspected of spreading the red death – the matter I brought to you this morning. But it appears the deaths were due to poison, not the red death at all.'
'Is there any proof of the Duchess's involvement? Beside this vile woman's words?'
'No. But there were witnesses to Sira conspiring with her sister. The sister is in the dungeons and my men are looking for Sira as we speak.'
'Three murderesses,' the Duke said with a sigh.
'Three victims. Two dead husbands, both war veterans, and a boy. Her own son. The Scion will call for the strictest of punishments, that is certain.'
The Duke nodded. 'And I agree. We cannot allow this type of behaviour to go unpunished. Wasp Women cannot be allowed to flourish again.'
'Including the Duchess?'
The Duke waved his hand. 'Can you imagine my Lady poisoning anyone?' He laughed but Kalin did not join him. 'These are the venomous words of a guilty woman backed into a corner, trying to save herself. Bring my Lady here. I am sure she will find this matter quite amusing.'
'I looked in her bower and the solar but I could not find her, my Lord.'
'She's probably busy with final preparations for the Spawning,' the Duke said with a shrug. 'When will the merchant woman be put to trial? The rest of the town must witness justice in action, and it must be swift. There will be no leniency.'
'The day after tomorrow, my Lord,' Kalin said. 'It will be bigger than the Spawning Festival itself. Ambrovna has not had a good trial in many years. Women murdering their husbands! Imagine the crowd.'
The Duke grimaced. 'Why do we revel in others’ misfortunes?'
There was a gentle knock sounded and the pock-faced guard cracked open the door.
'Not now,' the Duke snapped.
The Scion and three Cousins swept into the room, like a hen and her chicks.
'Scion Zavis, what an unexpected pleasure,' the Duke said, straightening his posture as his stomach churned.
'We need to discuss an urgent matter,' the Scion barked.
The Duke suppressed a gulp and waved for the Fatherhood group to sit. Even now as a fully-grown man and ruler of the Duchy, Zavis made him feel like a half-witted child.
'I prefer to stand,' the Scion said.
The Duke's heart thundered. 'What did you want to discuss?'
'Your wife and her involvement with the Wasp Women,' the Scion said.
'False accusations,' the Duke replied with a half-shrug.
'Three brutal murders.' The Scion stood straight as an arrow, his three subordinates in a line behind him. 'The perpetrators must be smoked out.'
The Duke leaned against the table to hide his trembling hands. 'There is no evidence. Only the words of a bitter woman. We have interred one of the sisters and the mohair merchant's wife.'
'The Father will judge the Duchess if you do not have the strength to judge her yourself,' the Scion boomed, his voice filling the Cabinet in the same way it filled the Temple during a service.
&n
bsp; The Duke flinched.
'Your wife is of no concern. Her judgement has been set and she will pay for her sins.'
The Scion then lowered his voice and spoke with unusual softness. 'I am disappointed in you.'
The Duke's belly plummeted. The Scion's words were stronger than any blow. He faked a smile. 'I am thankful for your concern, Scion. But until there is real proof--'
'Has she used her Wasp Woman magic on you, too? Curdled your mind?'
'My mind is very clear, Scion Zavis,' the Duke lied.
'You know my view on the subject of your betrothal from the very beginning. Taking a Neven wife was a poor decision. Fatherless sinners!' he spat. 'I said that bringing one of their women here would wreck the morals of the whole Duchy and I was right. While you were at war, she and her band of so-called women blatantly ignored the Teachings of the Father. I had to put a stop to their schemes on a number of occasions. For the good of the town. You invited a Queen Wasp to Ambrovna and left her in charge. You are lucky I was here to keep order.'
'From what I have seen, Ambrovna was well governed in my absence.' The Duke set his jaw, his cheek muscles taut as ship ropes. 'I am blessed with a wife who is more than a pretty bird in a cage. She may be spirited, but I am proud of her.'
Zavis lifted a hairless eyebrow. 'She undermines you. And she will be your downfall. Underneath, all women are the same.'
'This could be your opportunity to be rid of her, my Lord,' Kalin offered. 'With the rumours of her brother and Absalom on the throne, you no longer need her. You have no children. You could annul the betrothal and pack her off back to Tramissa. Your problem will disappear.'
'No,' said the Duke and the Scion in unison.
The Scion continued. 'You made a choice. A commitment to the Father when you took her as a wife. This cannot be broken. You are joined until death. You must deal with the consequences of your poor decisions.'
'I am aware of my situation and I appreciate your concern but there is no proof to support these accusations,' the Duke insisted.
'It is my role to provide counsel on your spiritual welfare, my Lord. Your people will yield to you but it is my duty to tell you the truth. However hurtful.'
The Duke's tunic itched against his skin. He rubbed his neckline as his throat burned red hot.
'Your troubles reached my ears through official channels. How many others will hear the story in less salubrious ways? Tomorrow at the Spawning Festival, will your people snigger behind their hands at you? The Duke on the throne, a man without the strength to bring his wife to justice? They will question everything about you. And quite rightly.'
'I am sure you are busy preparing for the Allotment, Scion Zavis,' the Duke spoke carefully, trying to temper the shudder in his voice. 'I thank you for your time and counsel. But until there is actual proof--'
'The proof may be closer than you think.'
The Duke blinked rapidly and frowned. 'I will consider your advice.'
'We will pray for you. That the Father will guide you to the right path.'
Scion Zavis and his Cousins left the room and the Duke dropped his head into his hands with a sigh. 'What foolishness.'
'Your love is blinding you,' Kalin said. 'Perhaps there is some truth in the accusations. And perhaps you were to be their next victim.'
'That is absurd,' the Duke chuckled half-heartedly. 'My wife, a murderess? A Wasp Woman? Mixing spells and cavorting with the Great Mother? No.'
The room slid into silence. The Duke wiped his forehead as the brick walls and bookshelves whirled before his eyes. It couldn't possibly be true. Could it?
Every child in Ambrovna was fed on tales of the Wasp Women with their riddles and poisons. As a noble child the Duke had been no different. His nursemaid and his grandfather had told him of the days, hundreds of years ago, when Wasp Women were strong. One day the Fatherhood arrived to teach ignorant people about the love and wisdom of the Father and the true place of a woman in the world. As the word of the Father spread, the Wasp Women struck back, revealing their true evil nature as they turned against their own townspeople. They sent sickness to the new believers, blackened their crops, and threatened to poison the seas. Despite the Wasp Women's efforts, the whole town became enlightened and the Fatherhood prevailed.
The first Scion of Ambrovna had driven the Wasp Women and their wickedness into hiding. But that was not the end of it. The women continued their campaign of violence in secret. No one knew whether beneath their cloaks, a mother or sister or daughter worshipped the barbaric Great Mother. The men had worked tirelessly to uncover their nests until every last Wasp Woman was driven into the hills or executed in the Square. The last remaining Wasp Woman, Ysopa, was hanged from the Old Man Tree. Her body was left to rot there as a reminder to all. Now, every child learned the story of Ysopa and shuddered in their beds at the thought of the Wasp Women's return. Unlike a bee with its single sacrificial sting, a wasp could sting over and over, again and again.
The Duke raked his fingers along his scalp.
'I agree with the Scion,' Kalin chewed his lip.
The Duke sighed again. 'What do you suggest I do?'
'If you are unwilling to cast her aside, make her answer these accusations. Let her prove her innocence.'
The Duke nodded reluctantly. 'Zavis said there was more proof. Make enquiries. But be subtle. And find my wife.'
Chapter Forty-nine
Agata paced the narrow alley behind Gala's shopfront. 'Where is Froma?'
Sira shrugged.
'He can only take twelve at the most. He's going to Blek,' Jadzia said.
'Blek?' Gala shuddered. 'We better give them blades before they go.'
'And he can't wait all night.'
'Twelve is better than nothing,' Agata said, her eyes still watching the entry to the alley. Where was Froma? Was this Froma's revenge after Agata refused to hand the poison over to her? 'What did you tell him?'
'Not much. I said they were kidnapped during the war. To be honest, I could have said anything. Once he saw the glimmer of the silver--'
'We cannot wait any longer for Mistress Plesec,' Agata said, pressing her lips together. 'Ready?'
'Yes, m'Lady,' said Sira. Jadzia and Gala nodded.
'I am proud of you all,' she said, her voice then lowered to a mutter. 'We are doing a good thing. No matter what happens.'
Jadzia gulped.
'They'll sing ballads about us one day,' Gala said, her smile a little forced.
'One day, perhaps,' Agata sighed.
Agata tugged at her hose, she was swimming inside the pilfered terracotta guard's uniform. The others were similarly disguised. Sira hid her blemished face under a hood, the plump Gala filled out her surcoat better than the others and Jadzia was the height of a small man. But it was lucky the sun had set. In full daylight they'd have fooled no one.
'Remember we are supposed to be guards.'
The four women left the alley and marched into the town Square, Agata's heart thundering, and her chest was tight. Fear and excitement wrestled in her belly.
Wind whipped in from the sea, making the handful of torches in the Square flicker and the pennants in the Old Man Tree flap. Unlike the capital Sulun or her home region of Tramissa where people made merry in the warm evenings until the moon sank, the Square was deserted. The clear dark sky was peppered with stars.
On the far side by the Temple, the Allotment women huddled together for warmth in their makeshift pen. They ranged in age from barely marriageable to the edges of middle life. All were quiet, dour, even the babies.
'We wait here until we see the sign,' Agata whispered and the four women stopped in the shadows by the dais.
'What's the sign?' Jadzia asked. Agata shushed her with a finger to her lips.
Three guards leaned on their pikes at the narrow pen gate, gossiping and laughing. One was blond and pale, one had protruding ears and the third was cursed with a rash of pimples across his face.
Agata steeled herself but he
r belly fluttered. She still had time to back out and sneak into the castle, pretend nothing happened. No one would know. Except for the other women. And they would understand. Wouldn't they?
But if she didn't act now, would this moment play on her mind forever? Weigh her down? Would her mother be shaking her head from the Land Beyond the Sunset?
The pale blond guard coughed.
'It's happening,' Agata whispered and Sira replied with a pained smile.
His cough echoed around the empty Square. Then he doubled over.
Then the pimple-cheeked guard wheezed and spluttered and leaned over his pike as he struggled for breath.
'You alright?' asked the boyish big-eared guard, his eyes bulging with concern.
The pale-faced man groaned. His vomit splattered to the ground. The boyish guard jumped out of range, while on his left the pimply guard spewed.
Agata's hand flew to her mouth and glanced across at Sira, who nodded. 'Rabel said it was awful.'
'There wasn't enough to kill them? Was there?' Agata stuttered.
Sira shrugged.
'What's happening?' Jadzia asked, her eyebrows lowered.
'It's time,' Agata said, her heart walloping. She grimaced as the guards convulsed. Their suffering was all her doing. Someone in the pen screamed.
'It's the red death!'
The pale-faced guard keeled over.
Shrieks echoed across the Square.
'It's the sickness. Get away from them,' screeched a freckle-faced woman with a baby clutched to her bosom.
'We're going to die!' shouted a red-head.
The penned women scrambled to their feet and yanked their children by the wrists, scurrying away from the gate.
'Let us go,' they cried.
Frightened babies and children caterwauled.
'Quiet,' yelled the big-eared guard. His voice reedy and shrill.
'Have mercy! Think of the children.'
The women rushed to the back corner of the pen, pushing and trampling one another as they cried out in fear and pain.
'You'll infect us all,' the red-head woman screeched.
Women of Wasps and War Page 23
