Battleaxe

by Sara Douglass

  “Sir.” Belial appeared at his side, a tall, well-built man with deeply set hazel eyes and a thick line of fine sandy hair over his tanned and beardless face. He wore a plain, grey woollen tunic coat over a white shirt and grey leather trousers, the normal uniform of the Axe-Wielders. Belial was some seven or eight years older than Axis, but despite his service, experience and undoubted expertise he had never harboured any ambition to lead the Axe-Wielders. He preferred that someone else have the ultimate responsibility and care, and he served happily under Axis.

  “Why isn’t everyone in formation!” Axis snapped. “It’s late!”

  Belial took no offence at his BattleAxe’s short temper. He was always tense and irritable before they moved out. “This is the last cohort to form up. The other cohorts are waiting outside in the streets. In line. Packhorses loaded. Supplies accounted for. Geared up, fed, watered, weaponed, and ready to go.”

  Axis glared at Belial but there was so little light the effort was wasted. “Then where are these cursed women!” he growled.

  “These cursed women are geared up, fed, watered, ah…packed, and ready to go,” a feminine voice said from behind him.

  Axis wheeled around. He could just make out Embeth in the dim light, but it was the huddle of female shapes behind her that caught his eye. Artor’s arse! he thought, only avoiding swearing out loud through a supreme effort.

  “I had not expected you to bring every single one of your seamstresses, laundresses and chambermaids with you, Lady Tare,” he said curtly. “Do you think to teach my Axemen needlework about the fires at night?”

  “The Lady of Skarabost, her daughter Faraday and I have brought our maids, BattleAxe. We do not travel without our attendants,” Embeth replied firmly.

  “Well I hope they can ride, because you’ll have to travel without them if they fall off their cursed horses crossing the first overflowing gutter they come to!” Axis snarled, ignoring Embeth’s gasp at his rough tone. Turning on his heel, Axis disappeared into the throng of men as they mounted and formed up.

  Belial shrugged in sympathy at the women, then hurried off to fetch their horses. Embeth turned to the ladies Merlion and Faraday and smiled wryly. “I have heard that his temper improves as the sun rises, my friends. Let us hope that is truly the case!”

  “No wonder Priam doesn’t receive him!” Lady Merlion muttered. She wished Isend had found them a more gracious escort—and one with a less unsavoury parentage.

  Faraday wriggled in embarrassment at her mother’s words, then abruptly giggled at the image of their maids floundering in a flooded gutter while Axis rode resolutely on.

  Her mother was horrified. “Faraday!”

  Embeth struggled for a moment, then she too started to laugh, wheezing with the effort of trying to keep it low. Finally she gave up and burst into a merry peal as Belial and several servants came back with their horses. “Onwards and forwards, ladies,” she chuckled, “onwards and forwards!” and scrambled onto her horse.

  Faraday was just settling her skirts after mounting her horse sidesaddle when a rough hand touched her knee. “Borneheld,” she gasped. The sun had just risen and a shaft of light shone directly into Borneheld’s face as he squinted up at Faraday. “My dear. I had to see you safely off.” Faraday was too high to lean down so that he could kiss her mouth, but Borneheld made up for it by patting her leg awkwardly through the skirts of her riding habit.

  “I will count the days until I see you again, Borneheld,” Faraday muttered, embarrassed by his attention in case Axis reappeared. She wriggled her leg slightly, hoping that Borneheld would drop his hand.

  Although he ceased his patting, Borneheld kept his hand firmly in place as he peered about the courtyard. “Where is…? Ah!”

  The final cohort had formed up, and Axis appeared at one corner of the courtyard, mounted on his dappled-grey stallion, Belaguez. The horse was skittish in the early-morning cold, and his steel-clad hooves slipped and skidded over the slick cobbles of the courtyard as Axis rode across to Borneheld.

  Faraday was now so mortified she wished that somehow Artor could find enough pity in his heart to reach down and snatch her from this life. She averted her eyes, her colour rising, unable to look at the BattleAxe. Axis shot her a quick glance, recognising her from the banquet. He knew who she was now, since Earl Isend had spent the best part of an hour persuading him to accompany her and her mother to Arcness.

  “Borneheld,” he said flatly, his eyes flickering over his half-brother’s hand resting on the young woman’s knee. He felt a moment’s sympathy for her.

  Borneheld was unable to resist a sneer. “Don’t lose too many of my Axe-Wielders before you arrive in Gorkenfort, BattleAxe.”

  Axis’ mouth compressed and his hands tightened on Belaguez’s reins, causing the stallion to half rear. “If you can’t manage to drag your mind away from your forthcoming marriage, Borneheld, then I doubt that you’ll survive long enough to lead even your horse to water.”

  Borneheld finally lifted his hand from Faraday’s knee to pat her patronisingly on the arm. Seizing on the equine metaphor, he spoke without thinking, wanting only to irritate Axis. “Isend has handed me the reins of the finest mare in the stable, BattleAxe. You could never hope to own anything this well-bred.” He laughed at his own wit and, dropping his hand, fondled Faraday’s leg again.

  Underneath her choking blanket of embarrassment, Faraday’s temper flared into white-hot anger. She was no mare to be passed between men for the highest price! She dug her booted heel into her horse and viciously swiped it with the long whip that hung down the far side from Borneheld. The horse snorted and leaped sideways in surprise and indignation, and Borneheld lost his footing. He waved his arms and stumbled alarmingly, almost falling to his knees on the slippery cobbles.

  “Borneheld!” Faraday cried, hoping her voice held a suitable degree of surprised anxiety. Her green eyes flickered momentarily to Axis before she hooded their triumphant gleam. Her mother gasped out in concern behind her, but Borneheld regained his balance and glanced at Faraday, assuming she had momentarily lost control when the horse had shied at some imagined shadow.

  Faraday splayed her hands in a display of helplessness and Borneheld smiled to reassure her. “My dear, it doesn’t matter. When we are married I’ll teach you to ride properly.”

  Axis had noticed Faraday’s actions and glance and restrained a wry grin. The girl had spirit, it seemed. “And in return perhaps the Lady Faraday can teach you your dance steps, Borneheld. Your exhibition just now was hardly impressive.”

  Borneheld stiffened, wishing a biting retort would spring to his lips. “Do not tarry on your way to Gorkenfort, BattleAxe,” he snapped finally, his colour rising. He gave Faraday a final pat on the arm, then turned and strode back into the palace.

  Although cheered by the BattleAxe’s remark, Faraday nevertheless shook her head imperceptibly. Why had she acted so foolishly? She squared her shoulders, wondering at the antagonism between the two brothers.

  “Axis.” Jayme walked out from the shadows where he had been standing. Axis bowed from the saddle and gave his Brother-Leader the clenched fist salute of the Axe-Wielders. “Axis. Ride well and fast, my son. Find the answers that we so desperately need. And remember your promise.”

  Axis nodded, his eyes cold. The tension between the two had not dissipated completely over the past five days since their furious argument in the Brother-Leader’s apartment. Axis edged his horse away from the Brother-Leader. “Furrow wide, furrow deep, Father.”

  “Wide and deep,” Jayme replied. “May Artor hold you in His care now and for always, my son.”

  For a long moment their eyes caught above Belaguez’s tossing head, then, as Jayme raised his hand in blessing, Axis wheeled his stallion around in a tight circle, sparks rising as the horse’s hooves struck the cobbles.

  “Axe-Wielders, are you ready?” he cried in a clear and penetrating voice.

  From the courtyard and the streets beyond rose a sin
gle shout. “We follow your voice and are ready, BattleAxe!”

  “Then let us ride!” Axis cried, and a shout rose from his men as the thunder of twenty thousand hooves filled Carlon, sending the eagles and hawks roosting on the city walls fluttering into the sky in feathered confusion.

  10

  ACROSS THE PLAINS OF TARE

  Embeth had heard stories all her life about the almost legendary ability of the Axe-Wielders to move fast and far, no matter the size of their column. She had never really believed them, thinking them soldiers’ stories from the bottom of a jug of ale. But after riding five days from sun-up to sundown she realised the stories were all true.

  The column of Axe-Wielders contained over three and a half thousand mounted men, at least three hundred packhorses, several hundred riderless horses who were rotated among the riders each day, and, Embeth grimaced as they slowed down to make camp on the fifth night, seven very sore women (none of whom had fallen off at the first overflowing gutter). There was also one equally sore Brother Gilbert and, unbelievably, a fat white cat which must have stowed away on one of the packhorses. Every evening it strolled out of the dark and wound around the BattleAxe’s legs, purring loudly and contentedly despite his curses. Every morning it strolled off into the dawn and no-one saw it again until the evening.

  Embeth twisted around in her saddle. Gilbert was riding morosely along about twenty paces behind them. Still sulking at being sent to the Silent Woman Keep with the Axe-Wielders, Gilbert preferred not to spend his days in conversation if he could help it. Lady Merlion clutched grimly to the pommel of her saddle, no doubt cursing (well, perhaps not that) her husband for sending them along with the Axe-Wielders to Arcness. Faraday, younger and more flexible both in mind and body, was coping rather better. After the first day’s ride she had abandoned the long trailing skirts of her riding habit and dressed herself in a more sensible divided skirt to ride astride. Her hair hung in a girlish fashion down her back in a thick plait. Lady Merlion had remonstrated with Faraday over both skirt and hair, but Faraday had managed to hold her ground. Embeth shifted in the saddle a little.

  “We appear to be slowing down,” she called, reining in her horse slightly so that Merlion and Faraday could draw level. “There’s a hollow about five hundred paces ahead; perhaps the BattleAxe will be kind to us and decide to make camp there.” She had seen several Axe-Wielders ride out ahead of the main body of the column, inspect the site, and report back to Axis, plainly visible on his grey stallion at the head of the leading unit.

  “One can only hope so,” Merlion grumbled, her wispy pale hair starting to drift loose from underneath her headdress. She looked tired and dishevelled and fifteen years older than when she had set out. “The man obviously has no idea that women should not be made to travel so fast. My maids are so exhausted at night they can hardly attend to my needs.”

  Faraday exchanged a brief smile with Embeth. “This is no pleasure jaunt, mother. The BattleAxe rides at a soldier’s pace.”

  Axis had studiously ignored the lot of them thus far. Although the soldiers pitched the women’s tents close to Axis’ personal campsite at night, he spent most of the time moving from campfire to campfire in the evening, talking to his men and conferring with his officers. He only returned to his bedroll late at night, and then only to collapse into an exhausted sleep. The women sat at their own campfire talking amongst themselves, a small pocket of femininity among the thousands of men surrounding them. While Merlion trusted her daughter to retain her virtue, she kept a careful eye on the maids who travelled with them. They had shown a disconcerting willingness to disappear from their bedrolls at night.

  A horseman rode back from the head of the column and drew level with the women. “Timozel!” Embeth cried delightedly, for she had hardly seen her son on this march.

  Timozel grinned at his mother and sketched a bow to the other two women. “My ladies, I trust you have enjoyed your excursion thus far.”

  Faraday smiled at Timozel, taking an instant liking to him. He was a year or two older than her, and still with the slightly thin and big-boned frame of a youth yet to fill out into maturity. He had the look of his mother with a shock of rich brown curls and dark blue eyes, but must have inherited the wide mobile mouth and hooked nose from his father. Despite his youth he handled his rangy bay gelding with the skill of an experienced horseman, and the axe and sword that hung to each side of his body gave him the look of a man rather than a boy.

  Timozel looked at Faraday and his grin widened for a moment. Faraday reddened slightly, although her own smile widened to match his own and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. Embeth watched the exchange with some amusement. What a shame that Faraday had been betrothed before she could experience the simple enjoyments of flirting at court. Now she would never have the chance. Not with Borneheld to watch over her.

  “Ladies, mother, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that we’ll be stopping a little earlier today. There’s a good campsite just ahead, with excellent shelter and water. The BattleAxe is pleased with the progress we’ve made thus far and wants to take advantage of this campsite to rest both ourselves and our horses a little longer this evening.”

  “The man has mercy!” Merlion muttered, trying in vain to tuck her hair back into order beneath her headdress.

  “The BattleAxe has requested that I extend an invitation on his behalf for the Ladies Merlion, Embeth and Faraday to join him at his campfire this evening to share the evening meal.”

  Timozel kept his tone light and charming, although he had his own reservations about the message he delivered. Though his mother did not realise it, Timozel had been aware for some time of her relationship with Axis. The knowledge had soured Timozel’s previous admiration for his BattleAxe. But Timozel hid his doubts well, and neither Axis nor Embeth had any idea of the simmering resentment beneath his good-natured and courteous exterior.

  Embeth’s mouth twitched in amusement at Timozel’s message. She doubted Axis had managed to put the invitation so politely. She turned to Merlion, who, as the senior lady present, would have to accept or refuse on their behalf.

  Faraday’s eyes pleaded with her mother. “Please, mother! The evenings have been so dull. Perhaps Timozel can join us.”

  “It would be my pleasure, my lady,” Timozel smiled, inclining his head towards Faraday and then turning to bow politely at her mother.

  Timozel’s display of courtly manners impressed Merlion. If this youth would join them, well, perhaps they would have some polite conversation after all. Even Merlion had missed masculine company in the evenings. Brother Gilbert, if and when he joined them, hardly counted.

  “We will accept the BattleAxe’s gracious offer. Kindly tell him that we will be pleased to share the evening meal with him.”

  For a while after they finished eating the group watched the campfire spit and hiss in the chill evening air. Gilbert, Timozel and Belial had joined Axis and the three noblewomen so that, in the best courtly tradition, the number of men exceeded the number of women. There had been enough time, after making camp, for the women to wash with water brought from the nearby stream and to brush their hair out. While Merlion and Embeth had both dressed their hair on top of their heads, Faraday had left hers in the long braid, wispy tendrils brushing her cheeks.

  The meal had been simple but good. Axis was in a fine mood, feeling more relaxed than he had since Jayme’s urgent message reached him in Coroleas. This was the first time he had taken virtually the entire Axe-Wielders on such a hard and fast march, and he had fretted about their speed and myriad other small details. But things were going well and they were moving even faster than he had hoped. Years of planning and training were paying off. His men were doing him proud.

  The large hollow, several hundred paces across, sheltered them from the cold wind. Axis stretched his legs out before the fire so that his booted feet could take maximum advantage of the flames, leaned back against a waist-high rock, and contemplated Faraday.

&
nbsp; “My Lady Faraday,” he said smoothly, “it has been bothering me that I should find your face so familiar when, to my knowledge, we have never met before this march.” He wondered if she would admit to her ill-mannered stare the night of the banquet.

  Faraday smiled uncertainly, her hands clutching her knees where they were drawn up to her chest. “Really?…ah…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to address him. “BattleAxe” was so inappropriate in the relaxed mood about the fire, yet “Axis” seemed too familiar. She could hardly call him “my Lord”, because to all intents and purposes his illegitimate birth placed him beyond that respectable and noble title.

  “You undoubtedly saw me at Priam’s nameday banquet in the Chamber of the Moons. I’m afraid that I was staring. The Axe-Wielders have such a legendary reputation in Skarabost, indeed, around all Achar itself, that I have long desired to see one. I was fortunate that my first sight of an Axe-Wielder was of their BattleAxe himself. I apologise from my heart for my bad manners that night, Axis Rivkahson.”

  Embeth’s mouth dropped open in shock—and hers was not the only one. Never had she known anyone to address Axis so. He was extraordinarily sensitive about the circumstances surrounding his birth, so that no-one, no-one, ever referred to his mother or to his illegitimate status to his face. Yet…yet…Embeth had to admit that she was stunned, not only by Faraday’s explicit mention of Rivkah, but by the girl’s exquisite handling of what was undoubtedly an embarrassing moment for her. In the end, Faraday had done the impossible; she had referred to Axis’ illegitimate status in such a graceful manner as to make Axis’ connection to his mother a virtue rather than an embarrassment.

  Axis looked as stunned as Embeth felt, but Embeth could see that emotions battled inside him. His instant reaction had been a surge of anger and humiliation that Faraday had referred so openly to his illegitimacy, but now he was confused by the fact that neither her eyes nor her tone held any trace of mockery. He groped for something to say, but such a complex mix of emotions surged through him that he could find no words.