Men In Chains

by Virginia Reede

  Delinda sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that Bloduewedd would not notice there were fewer workers visible than there should have been. Beteria had assured her it had been weeks since she and Grenda had discussed actual numbers, and although Bloduewedd may have made some guesses based on her purchases at the slave market, she hoped the Rahntadrine would assume the rest of the employees were either inside the house or in the farther-flung fields and orchards.

  Standing at her designated spot and trying to keep an inquisitive expression on her face, Delinda held her breath as she waited to see how far the group would advance and how many of them would crowd into the space between the buildings. She kept her eyes on Bloduewedd, resisting the impulse to count the force’s numbers, knowing unseen eyes were performing this task even now.

  The group paused when they arrived at the opening between the two buildings but, seeing nothing amiss, continued forward to face Delinda, who let out her breath in relief. When they were about twenty feet away, they all halted except for Bloduewedd, who rode a few feet forward to look down at Delinda from her horse.

  “To what do I owe the great honor of this unexpected pleasure?” said Delinda, not a trace of mockery in her tone. “And with so many of my neighbors too. I have been meaning to extend my hospitality, but have been occupied lately.”

  “Do not pretend you do not know why I am here, Delinda,” replied Bloduewedd, dripping arrogance. “Disingenuousness does not become you.”

  “I apologize if I seem to be insincere, Bloduewedd,” said Delinda. “But I truly do not know what you intend.” Although her gaze never wavered from Bloduewedd’s face, Delinda sensed the mounted women were moving forward, filling the space between the buildings. She had given strict orders that no move be made until Bloduewedd’s intentions were clear. It was possible that the Rahntadrine had come to talk or to negotiate, and intended to arrest Delinda only if other remedies failed.

  She did not have long to wait. “Very well, if you insist on continuing this charade, I will make my intentions impossible to misconstrue. Grenda!”

  Grenda rode forward and cleared her throat. “It is my duty to inform ye and all who may be present,” she proclaimed in a formal tone made especially incongruous by her common accent, “that ye, Delinda, are charged with the following crimes.” Grenda looked straight ahead, obviously struggling to remember the exact words of a carefully rehearsed speech. Delinda held her head high and kept her eyes on Bloduewedd, hoping the trembling in her knees could not be discerned.

  Grenda went on. “First, treason against the Rahntadrine of Glamurhaven, punishable by death. Second, conspiracy to destroy the Eye of the Goddess,” at this, a grumbling broke out among the Reliants, accompanied by dark looks, “also punishable by death. Other conspirators will be, er…named later.”

  Grenda appeared to be unsure how to continue and Bloduewedd gave her an impatient look. Grenda recovered, continuing, “And third, inciting slaves to revolt, punishable by banishment and seizure of all goods and property. Although,” added Grenda, obviously deviating from the rehearsed speech, “ye will not be worryin’ about the third punishment, seein’ as ye will already be dead!” This brought hoots and laughter from most of the soldiers and some of the Reliants.

  Bloduewedd let the laughter go on for a few moments before raising her voice. “Continue, Grenda. You have not finished.”

  “Sorry, me Ra-drine,” said Grenda, obviously enjoying herself and not the least bit sorry. She returned to her formal tone. “Therefore, by the authority granted to me as captain of the Rahntadrine’s guard, I must now place ye under arrest and require that ye accompany me to the slave sheds, where ye will be held until yer execution.” Grenda nodded to Bloduewedd, pleased with herself at having remembered all the words and having finished the arduous task of repeating them. The Rahntadrine nodded back then turned to Delinda.

  “You can choose to come with us willingly or not, Delinda, but you will come with us,” she said, seeming to grow as she swelled with the satisfaction of this moment.

  “And if I do?” asked Delinda. “Would I have your word none of my people will be harmed?”

  “My word?” asked Bloduewedd, surprised. “For my own part, I would be happy to give it. But I fear my followers here,” she gestured expansively at the mounted group behind her, “may wish to question a few of your people to see which of them are involved in your little conspiracy. I cannot promise they will be as gentle with them as I intend to be with you.” Bloduewedd’s unpleasant smile left little doubt as to how gentle she intended to be.

  Delinda nodded. She kept her voice calm, despite her racing heart. “I was afraid of that,” she said. “Therefore, I regret to say I cannot do as you ask.”

  Surprise filled Bloduewedd’s face. “Do you actually think you can prevent us from doing as we please?” she asked, still smiling but looking a little less certain.

  “Probably not,” said Delinda, smiling in return. “But I—we—can make it as difficult as possible.” At that, she flung her arm up in the air, a signal many tense and wary eyes had been waiting for. There were two simultaneous “thunk” sounds as the ropes that held the heavy logs stacked on the sloping annex and stable roofs were cut with hatchets.

  Before Bloduewedd’s followers could react, the enormous timbers tumbled down upon the mounted riders, knocking horses’ legs out from under them and killing several women outright. The voices of horses and women raised and blended in bloodcurdling screams. Soldiers struggled to extricate broken and crushed legs and torsos from under the pile of debris.

  Bloduewedd and Grenda, beyond the greatest part of the timber, spurred their horses to escape being crushed, but Grenda’s great horse reared and threw her onto the dusty courtyard. Looking back at the mêlée, Bloduewedd did not see Delinda turn and sprint through the narrow opening between the house and the annex.

  Cursing, Bloduewedd looked about to determine which direction her quarry was most likely to have taken. Deciding correctly on a route that led to the side of the house, she abandoned her fallen troops and spurred her horse.

  At the opposite end of the two buildings, confusion reigned. Many of the women had been too far back to be directly endangered by the falling timbers, but the panic of the frightened horses closest to the fall had infected many of the others, and horses reared and bucked, competing for space in the narrow passage. Horses fell, more riders were thrown and some were trampled.

  Those women who managed to keep their seats found their escape blocked by others who had closed the space behind them. By the time a modicum of order was restored and the riders in the rear managed to turn their horses with the intention of rounding the buildings, a force of about twenty men and women on foot, all wielding sharp scythes, pitchforks, hoes and rakes, had formed a semicircle in their path.

  Had the women facing this grim-faced assemblage been soldiers, they would have drawn their swords and made short work of the group. However, the majority of the well-armed and trained fighters had been in the front ranks with Grenda, and those still mounted and uninjured were trying to help their fallen comrades and calm panicked horses.

  The women at the rear of the party were Reliants, and their seething anger, fanned into flames by Bloduewedd’s skillful manipulation, had now been replaced by apprehension. They had been expecting a few frightened slaves and unsuspecting farm workers, not this determined-looking group holding pointy implements, all gleaming from recent sharpening. Several of them actually dropped their weapons and raised their hands in the air.

  Finally, a couple of soldiers who had regained their horses pushed their way through the crowd, until they were forced to stop behind the stalled front line. “Why do you hesitate!” shouted one of them. “They cannot kill all of us! A fighter on horseback always has the advantage over one on foot.”

  “Yes, but they will kill some of us!” shouted a women with raised hands, clearly panicked. “I did not come here to risk my life. Fighting these traitors is your job, not
mine. I’m going home!” Several of the other Reliants grumbled in agreement, and one of the twins spoke up from the line of defenders.

  “Anyone who wants to leave now can go!” she shouted. “Anyone who has not left in the next few moments will feel our blades, I promise you!”

  Without delay, the woman who had spoken and several others moved toward the line, which parted to let them pass. Once through, they kicked their horses into a gallop and departed swiftly in the direction of the trees. The line closed quickly, and the soldier who had spoken before howled in frustration.

  “Come on, you cowards! Crush these fools!” So saying, she sprang forward toward the line of her opponents. Immediately more riders followed, some merely swept up as their frightened horses followed the direction of the general movement, and others fully intent on attack.

  Scythes and swords flashed and metal rang. Several horses fell, screaming, and the leading soldier’s sword arm flew through the air, severed by the swinging edge of a sharpened spade, but the line gradually broke as more soldiers and Reliants joined the attackers. Several defenders fell, dead or wounded. At a preplanned command, the rest scattered into the nearest field where they all but vanished amid the vines that grew on supports, now full with leaves and blossoms.

  Deprived of opponents and separated from their leaders, the soldiers cursed and hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. Some took off into the fields in pursuit of their fleeing quarry. Others headed around the side of the stables to seek Grenda or anyone else who could instruct them. Several more of the Reliants took the opportunity to disappear into the woods to await the outcome of the battle, agreeing with their comrades it was not their role to fight an armed enemy.

  * * * * *

  Knowing she only had a few seconds to elude pursuit, Delinda rounded a corner of the house and leaped through a window, where waiting men pulled the shutters back into a closed position using temporary lines put in place for this purpose. From the outside, it would appear the shutters were bolted in place like those on all the other downstairs windows. Almost the second the shutters closed, Delinda and the two men listened tensely as the sound of pounding hooves passed just outside.

  Satisfied she had gained a few minutes before Bloduewedd organized her women to knock down a door or two, Delinda ran to the balcony of her bedroom. Here the bottom of one shutter had been detached so watchers could crawl out to lie on the balcony, concealed by ornamental plants, to spy on the field below. She ducked through the opening to find Ostyn crouched with his face pressed to a small opening between the thorny branches of a flowering vine.

  “How many still stand against us?” she asked without preamble. She had already told Ostyn where she believed Letta had gone and he, much relieved in the belief his beloved was safe for now, had risen to the occasion, leading the preparations for siege with more courage than Delinda could have expected.

  “About fifty, I think,” he said. “Too bad both Grenda and Bloduewedd escaped the logs. Grenda was unhorsed, but is back up again. I do not think the fall hurt her, although it made her pretty mad.” Ostyn actually grinned. “Listen to her.”

  Delinda realized she could hear the woman’s deep voice bellowing curses, threats and exhortations for her soldiers to get back on their horses and stop screaming. Grenda seemed to have little sympathy for those who were wounded and were unwilling or unable to remount their horses.

  “I saw a few riding off, probably some of the Reliants as we had hoped,” Ostyn said. “Although I could not really tell from this distance.”

  “Beteria was right when she said a lot of them would lose heart when they realized they might actually get hurt,” said Delinda. “I would imagine they have not gone far, and might come back if the tides turn their way. Have any of our people been lost?”

  “I think so,” said Ostyn. “It’s hard to say which side they are on, but some people are lying on the ground near the field, dead or wounded, and I do not think they can all be Bloduewedd’s.”

  “No, probably not,” said Delinda. “Keep watching, Ostyn, and be ready to signal the men on the roof if any flaming arrows appear. I’m going to go see how Duwall’s group is faring.” Leaving Ostyn in place, she crawled back through the hole in the shutter and ran through the darkened house to another window with deceptively rigged shutters. After listening for voices or hooves outside, the man and woman holding the lines let her out and closed it behind her. Crouching low to remain hidden below a stone wall, she ran for the partially finished foundations of the new bathhouse, where Duwall had laid his plans.

  * * * * *

  Letta could never have imagined that anything as enormous as the Sheeling could move so swiftly over the surface of the water, powered only by wind. In other circumstances, it would have been thrilling to feel the spray against her face and to see the shoreline, so unfamiliar from this aspect, move by as they sped southward toward the bay nearest the estate. Almost immediately, she ascertained the movements and shouts of the crew were carefully orchestrated as the ship was subtly steered and the angle of the sails changed to avoid hazards and take best advantage of the wind.

  Jeryl did not again relinquish the wheel, but between shouting instructions and questions to his men and considering their responses, he spoke to Letta in short, agitated sentences, only slightly quieter than his commands.

  “What was she thinking, not telling me about the baby?” he demanded. “Did she think I would abandon my own child?”

  “I think it had something to do with the customs of your land,” said Letta. “She did not really explain it to me, but I got the impression she did not believe you would be happy about the news.”

  This stopped Jeryl. He tried to remember what he had said about the subject. Something about women being responsible for making sure they did not get pregnant, he realized, groaning with chagrin.

  “Nevertheless, she should have told me,” he said stubbornly. “I had the right to have all the facts before deciding what to do.”

  “Yes, I agree,” said Letta. “I told her if you had known, you might have decided to stay.”

  “Precisely!” said Jeryl. “That is why she should not have kept the child from me.”

  “That is exactly why she did not tell you,” said Letta in defense of her friend and employer.

  “What do you mean?” said Jeryl, annoyed. “You are making no sense.” They were interrupted by a report of shallow water ahead by a crewman perched in the rigging. After making some adjustments, Jeryl returned to the conversation. “If she wanted me to stay, and knew telling me might help me decide to do so, then why did she not tell me?”

  “Because she loves you,” said Letta. “Just as you love her, although you are both too pigheaded to admit it.” Ignoring Jeryl’s astonishment, she went on. “She knows you come from an important family and will have a life of privilege and respect when you return. She does not feel she has the right to keep you from that. But even though she tells herself she is letting you go for your sake, it is not her true reason.”

  “What is her true reason?” asked Jeryl, mystified. “Does she not want me to stay?”

  “Of course she does!” said Letta, exasperated at the blindness of stubborn people. “But not from a sense of obligation. She wants you to stay for her sake, because you love her and do not wish to be parted from her.”

  Looking at Jeryl’s thunderstruck expression, Letta felt emboldened to continue. “Which is, of course, exactly how you feel about her, only you are either too stubborn to admit it or believe you have a duty to your crewmen or both.”

  As Jeryl struggled to formulate a reply to this staggering idea, they were interrupted by Cristof.

  “Captain, I think we are coming to the harbor. Shall we prepare to make anchor? How close to the shore is it safe to come?”

  Jeryl had to concentrate on the complicated matter of bringing a large ship to rest in a shallow harbor, close enough to shore to get his men on solid ground quickly, but far enough to prevent runnin
g aground.

  * * * * *

  Duwall made a final inspection of the straw-covered netting that had been placed across the recently dug basement hole for the new building. It was supported by narrow timbers stretching the length of the hole that should break under the weight of a woman on horseback, causing her to be trapped between the still-unbraced walls. He hoped it was deep enough to break a leg or two, in addition to making it difficult to climb out, now that the ladders used during construction had been removed.

  Piled stones sat nearby, ready to throw down on the heads of those who landed below. Delinda had insisted on using herself as bait to lure attackers toward the trap, but Duwall was leery of this plan. Beteria had said few of Grenda’s women were accomplished archers, preferring to fight in close quarters, but he did not like seeing Delinda put herself in harm’s way.

  “The moment you know they have followed you through the gap, promise me you will make for the house,” he had said, and Delinda had agreed. He hoped she intended to keep that promise, as the sound of hooves approached from the side of the house. Delinda sprinted across the grass, followed by a group of six sword-wielding women. Duwall was delighted to see Grenda was the last of these. With any luck, he could trap his old nemesis like the rat that she was.

  Empty wagons and other debris had been casually strewn across the lawn, so the only clear path ran through the center of the construction site. Like a deer being chased by wolves, Delinda flew across the straw-covered net, remembering to place her feet exactly where Duwall had shown her. Without pausing to see if the ruse had worked, she ran toward the front of the house.

  The first three horses were fully onto the trap before the floor collapsed, and the fourth rider could not stop in time to prevent her horse from sliding in after them. The fifth rider was thrown, but Duwall cursed as he saw Grenda neatly turn her horse and avoid the abyss by inches.

  Four men leaped out of concealment and began throwing rocks down upon the trapped women, but Grenda made a quick turn and galloped toward the man nearest her, sword swinging. Duwall screamed the man’s name, but not before Grenda struck him a mighty blow, sending him into the pit with blood spurting from a wound that nearly bisected his torso from shoulder to ribcage. Her sword, lodged in the man’s body, was jerked from her hand, nearly pulling her from her horse.