Ulrich quietly closed the cottage door, but was startled by the sound of hooves galloping towards him. The road to the smithy was downhill and muddy; Ulrich was concerned that the rider might cause his horse to slip when he attempted to stop. The horse did slither to a halt in front of Ulrich and the rider jumped from his mount. The morning drizzle shrouded the little valley in a haze, giving the rider an eerie appearance as he approached.
‘Is Mistress Bruna at home, boy?’ the rider demanded.
Ulrich was surprised that it was a woman’s voice. ‘Yes, but my mother has not yet risen,’ he replied.
‘Ulrich,’ the woman asked, ‘is that you?’
‘Yes,’ Ulrich replied, puzzled as to the woman’s identity.
The woman moved closer and Ulrich looked into her face. At a quick glance, she could easily be mistaken for a callow youth, but beyond the pale complexion, Ulrich saw the high cheekbones and softer skin. She seemed familiar, someone from the distant past.
‘It’s me, Peta,’ she said. ‘I used to look after you.’
He was little when Peta had come to live with his family. She may have been a girl at the time, but to a six-year-old boy she had been a woman. He recalled sitting on her lap and pulling her long hair. It was cut short now.
Other memories started to come back. His mother leaving him. His father becoming grumpy and cross with him. Peta trying to calm his father; cooking special dishes, singing to his father, and keeping him out of his father’s way. Then the joy of his mother’s return, but that was short-lived. There were raised voices, Peta crying. His mother hitting his father. Then Peta was gone.
He had cried for days afterwards, until his mother came to him. She had a letter written by Peta to him, his mother had not yet taught him to read, so she read aloud. Looking back, Ulrich suspected that it was really intended for his mother. It was an apology in which Peta said that she had only wanted to protect him as his mother had asked. She said that she had only tried to be a friend to his father, but his mother had become jealous and got cross with her. Peta asked him to say sorry to his mother on her behalf, she only had feelings of friendship towards his father. Her only love had been for his mother, and that it was best that she left, now that his mother hated her. His mother would understand the sort of love she meant, as he would one day. She asked him to persuade his mother to forgive his father. He remembered his mother crying.
His mother had agreed to forgive his father, and ever since Ulrich could only remember the passion between them. However, Peta was gone and Ulrich wanted her back, but they did not know where to find her. His mother suggested that when he was bigger he could try to find her.
Peta had returned, but he had never gone to look for her.
‘It’s been so long,’ Ulrich said.
‘I know,’ Peta replied and put her arms around him. He gently put his hands on her waist, uncertain about being so familiar. Peta pulled back and looked him over. ‘You are growing into a man.’
Ulrich smiled proudly, but was puzzled by delivery of the compliment; Peta seemed surprised to see him grown up. She squeezed his upper arms in with her hands, as if checking the quality of a bullock for slaughter. Stepping back, she looked him over.
‘You’ve got the same eyes, your hair’s not quite as dark as it was, and you’re getting tall.’
‘No I’m not,’ Ulrich grumbled back, ‘I’m quite short when compared to the other men.’
‘Well, you are at least two inches taller than me.’
This did not comfort Ulrich, coming from a woman.
‘Listen, I have good news, take me to your mother.’
Ulrich turned to the door of the little cottage and led Peta in. Inside a kitchen fire roared in the hearth and a kettle of water hung in the flames. There was a freshly cut loaf on the table and a wooden cup of milk. All prepared by Ulrich, ready for his mother when she awoke.
Ulrich did not know what to do. Peta was sodden; should he offer to dry her clothes; would she be staying long enough? ‘Would you like to sit beside the fire?’ he asked, pointing to a high backed wooden chair.
Peta stood and looked down at the water pooling around her feet on the stone floor.
‘Who is that?’ Bruna, Ulrich’s mother, shouted from her room.
‘Come out and see,’ Ulrich shouted back, and smiled at Peta.
The door opened and Bruna poked her head out. She peered at Peta, but it took a few seconds before she recognised her.
‘Peta,’ she said, her voice a mixture of welcome and apprehension. She came out of her room. She was still wearing her heavy nightdress, and had draped a blanket around her shoulders to keep warm.
Peta smiled at Bruna. Ulrich noted that it was a warm smile; a smile kept for someone special. The two women hugged, but Bruna jumped back, away from the dampness of Peta’s clothes.
‘You’ll have to get out of those wet things. Ulrich, you get to work, I’ll call you when Peta’s changed and we have had a chance to talk.’
‘No,’ Peta said, ‘let him hear this first.’
‘All right,’ Bruna replied hesitantly.
‘The war’s over,’ Peta declared with a smile. ‘The Lahbland queen is dead. We won.’
‘When?’ asked Ulrich, hope clutching his heart, but why was it Peta that brought the news not his father.
‘About five days ago. I was travelling with some of the Selector’s soldiers when they got word.’
Bruna’s eyes sparkled and she clapped her hands together. Ulrich felt so happy, his father would be home soon.
‘We will kill the Dragon, and then we will be free,’ Bruna shouted.
‘There’s something else,’ Peta said, glancing at Ulrich.
‘What?’ Bruna asked.
‘I need to speak with you alone.’
‘Alright, now you can get to work, Ulrich.’
Disappointed at being excluded, Ulrich slunk out of the house, but instead of heading towards the workshop, he ducked down and crept along to the shuttered window. The family hoped that they would be able to get the windows glazed this summer; they could certainly afford it now. However, this was of no help to him. His mother and Peta must still have been beside the hearth on the other side of the room. Unable to make out what they were saying, Ulrich decided that he would be better off working in the dry of the workshop.
Bruna and Peta obviously had a lot to talk about privately, because instead of calling him in for lunch, Bruna brought it out to him. It was after a full day in the workshop that he returned to the cottage and found Peta washed and changed. She wore some of his mother’s old clothes. She looked more like a woman, but the clothes were too big and made her look gaunt. She smiled at him as he walked across to the large dresser. He pulled off his leather gilet and shirt, and then proceeded to wash himself down with a rag soaked in water from a bucket placed on the dresser.
Feeling cleaner and refreshed he reached for a clean cloth and started to dry himself. As he did so, he turned to Peta. She was watching him closely, so he straightened up, making sure that his chest was thrust out. He was proud of his developing pectoral muscles; they were beginning to bulge out nicely.
He tossed the cloth back onto the dresser and stood with his hands on his hips. He was sure Peta liked what she saw. She stepped towards him and he was pleased to see her gaze did not move from his torso. When she looked up at his face he was not sure what her expression meant, she looked confused. He thought she was going to say something when he heard the door to his mother’s room open. Peta quickly took a couple of steps back, and turned away from him when Bruna entered the room.
‘Ulrich,’ Bruna exclaimed, ‘Cover yourself up!’
Ulrich felt himself blushing and dashed into his room for a clean shirt. Whilst he pulled one from his chest, he could hear Peta and his mother talking. He could not make out what they were saying, but he could tell from the tone of their voices that Peta was questioning his mother and she was replying very defensively. The conversation stopped abruptly when he re-entered the room.
‘Come, let us eat,’ Bruna said.
They sat at the wooden table, Peta and Ulrich on one form facing Bruna on the other. Bruna ladled out the hot stew then they thanked the gods before eating.
‘What news of the Dragon?’ Ulrich asked after a few minutes.
‘It’s still going strong the last I heard,’ Peta replied. ‘It may be a little while before it’s killed. The enchanted weapons the Lahblanders seized will have to be found. They may be useless now; the enchantments might have worn off after six years. The king should have arranged passage with the queen before buying them.’
‘But the queen does not approve of the use of magic,’ Bruna pointed out.
‘Did not approve, Mother,’ Ulrich corrected her.
‘A lot of lives were lost fighting the war,’ Peta said, ‘and more may be lost fighting the Dragon.’
‘And in the meantime someone’s daughter is fed to it each day,’ Bruna complained.
‘That is the choice the king faced,’ Peta explained. ‘With the queen refusing passage for the enchanted weapons, he had to try and smuggle them through, but the Lahblanders found them. The king has to continue to allow a maiden to be sacrificed every day.’ Bruna grimaced at this. ‘The king took a chance to try and recover the weapons. Unfortunately, things got out of hand and ended up in a full scale war.’
‘Why where you travelling with soldiers?’ Ulrich asked. ‘What have you been doing since you left us?’
Peta smiled before replying. ‘I have been moving around, practising midwifery. I would move to a village where there was no midwife, and help whilst training a local woman at the same time. I was with the soldiers because,’ Peta paused and looked at Bruna before continuing, ‘I needed some transport and they were heading towards Denholme. Just north of the Yevearin Hills we parted and they lent me the horse.’
‘I doubt that was a pleasant experience,’ Bruna said just before taking another mouthful of stew.
‘No, I rode in the wagon with girls selected for sacrifice. The poor things, they’ll probably be dead now or soon will be. It could so nearly have been me.’
‘You’re not married?’ Ulrich said before he could stop himself. He noticed Peta blush before adding, ‘But you came back south to let us know of the victory. Aren’t you still at risk until the Dragon is slain? And you were with the Selectors men.’
‘We can help there,’ Bruna said, ‘If you were to marry Peta she would no longer be eligible.’
Ulrich saw Peta make to say something, but she was cut short by a shake of the head and a stern stare from Bruna.
Ulrich did not know what to say; he did not want to offend Peta. He looked at her again and even though he had thought her more feminine wearing a skirt and blouse, now he was more critical. She was thin, her collarbones clearly visible, her elbows pointy and sharp. He knew it must be due to the life that she had been living and she would fill out once she had settled down. However, she was not the soft cuddly girl he remembered with the long silky hair, and she was a lot older than he was.
‘We should wait for Father’s approval,’ he said, hoping that his disappointment was not too obvious.
‘Of course I would not arrange such a thing without him,’ Bruna said, ‘but he will be home soon and I am sure he will agree with me.’
‘Of course he will,’ Ulrich heard Peta mutter under her breath. Fortunately, Bruna was getting up from the table and the noise of the form being pushed back prevented her from catching Peta’s remark.
‘I shall retire,’ Bruna said, ‘and let you two discuss it whilst you clean the pots.’ She came round the table and kissed each of them on the forehead then went into her bedroom.
Ulrich stood up and began collecting the pots. He took them over to a large metal basin set in a wooden frame below the window that looked out on the yard. It was dark now, so Ulrich closed the shutters and began to rinse the pots and utensils. Peta came across to join him.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, ‘the way she portrayed the idea to me made it seem so possible, and the idea of settling down here in Twofords sounded just too good to resist.’
Ulrich looked at her, the disappointment of a lost dream showing clearly on her face. ‘Hey, it was a complete surprise to me; mother’s never mentioned anything about betrothal before.’ He paused before adding, ‘Was it that obvious?’
‘You should have seen your face,’ Peta said, laughing.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ulrich said, trying not to laugh himself.
‘Don’t be. Gods I’m twelve years older than you, almost old enough to be your mother.’
‘If we could spend a little time together, who knows what might happen.’
‘I think that is what your mother is hoping for.’
Together they dried the pots and utensils, and then Ulrich put them away whilst Peta wiped down the table.
‘Mother hasn’t arranged a bed for you,’ Ulrich said. They did not often have guests to stay, and when they did Ulrich usually slept on a spare mattress in front of the cooking hearth, whilst the guests used his bed. However, the mattress was in Bruna’s room and needed to be filled with straw from the barn.
‘I hope she wasn't thinking you would take me to yours,’ Peta said, her cheeks flushing slightly.
A tight feeling encircled Ulrich’s chest, and he doubted his mother would think of letting him lay down with a woman. She had never liked him being on his own with the girls in the village, even more so since the war began. He felt the temptation grow, his mother in her own room and Peta needing a space for the night.
‘I used to bathe you as a child,’ Peta said, her expression becoming more serious. ‘You are still a child, Ulrich. You may have the muscles of a man but you have not matured properly yet. It’s obvious there are things that have not been explained to you. You have led a very sheltered life. If you are ever given the chance to spend some time away from here, take it. I’ll sleep in the barn; I have done it enough over the last few months.’
‘No, you take the bed, I’ll sleep in the barn,’ Ulrich insisted.
Peta smiled sweetly at him. ‘Thank you. Look, before your mother had this marriage idea, she said she knew someone in Ricksham who might be able to help me out. Eloise, I think she said.’
‘Uncle Dafied’s lady friend,’ Ulrich said, smiling, ‘You’ll like her. She’s very pretty.’
‘I have to return the horse to the garrison there,’ Peta continued with a stern stare. ‘I’ll find her and when your father returns, the three of you can discuss it, and if necessary send for me. I’m sure your mother will see sense.’
Ulrich smiled back at her then quickly ran to his room and pulled a blanket from his bed. He returned to the main room and said to Peta, ‘I’m afraid I’ll need this, I’ll light a lamp and be on my way.’ Peta reached up and gently kissed him on the cheek. ‘Bar the door after me,’ he added, as he felt his face burning.
He found that the drizzle had stopped when he went out into the yard, but the silence was broken by the low rumble of a distant storm.
***
The sudden flash of light, accompanied by the deafening crash of thunder, briefly illuminated the citadel walls brighter than sunlight. Miriam saw for the first time the huge size of the fortress. Many myths had grown around the sacrifice of a virgin each day, and she did not know what to expect. Her glimpse during the lightening flash left an impression of towering limestone walls, glistening with streaming rainwater. Then she realised that she had not seen any windows, not even arrow slits.
‘Not the best view with which to remember the world,’ the tall girl beside her said.
The girl’s accent was highborn and full of anger. Miriam was surprised at this; most of the girls around her were on the verge of panic. She was desperately trying to shut their emotions out of her mind and had not picked up the girl’s anger.
Miriam did not recognise the girl; she must have been on one of the wagons that had joined the caravan south of the border.
‘I’m Miriam,’ she said.
‘I am Iseld,’ the girl replied.
‘I wish I could say it was nice to meet you.’
The girl looked down at her then smiled. Miriam noticed how the girl held her long silky black hair back, preventing it from sliding from under the cowl of her cape.
‘I understand what you mean,’ Iseld said more warmly.
Miriam felt her gaze trapped by Iseld’s vivid blue eyes, but managed to break her stare when she noticed the girl fiddling with a sealed parchment.
‘What’s that?’ Miriam asked.
‘It is for the guards inside, apparently the guards outside are not allowed to enter; they gave it me to carry into the citadel. I think it contains orders or instructions.’
Miriam wondered what reason could exclude the men from going inside. Suddenly the huge double doors ahead of them swung open. Looking back, Miriam glimpsed the semicircle of armed guards behind them. A distant flash of lightning reflecting off the wet metal of their armour showed there was only one way to go. Across the drawbridge, the dark gateway beckoned. Miriam stepped towards it, Iseld at her side and they led the crowd of girls inside. Used to suppressing her own fear because of the harm she dreaded her mind would inflict on others, she was surprised at Iseld’s act of courage. Then she sensed something else motivating the tall girl, defiance.
Over the days that it had taken to travel to the citadel at Denholme, the number of prisoners in the caravan had swollen from the ten taken from Lahbland to nearly thirty. When the last cowering girl had entered the entrance chamber, the double doors slammed shut, and a low wailing echoed around the walls. The room was dimly lit, the light coming from lamps held by the shadowy figures awaiting them.
A tight feeling around, Miriam’s chest made it hard for her to breath. It was as if some unseen person had wrapped a rope around her and was slowly pulling it in. She tried to remember a prayer, any prayer that would make her end swift. Others around her must have had the same idea as some of the girls murmured, rhythmic but unintelligible phrases. Then a few complained as they were shoved aside by a large guard moving towards Miriam and Iseld.
‘Give me the orders,’ the woman demanded when she reached them.
‘How do you know I have them?’ Iseld replied, a cold edge to her voice disguising any fear she may have felt.
‘Because messages are always given to the tallest to bring in, or strapped to an ox sent in for slaughter. I wonder which describes you best,’ the woman snapped back.
Miriam felt the woman’s leather armour scratch her as she pushed passed her, and grabbed Iseld by the throat. The woman pulled the tall girl down and spat in her face. ‘You had better learn to curb your tongue. I can postpone your death, if you behave.’ She snatched the parchment from Iseld’s hand and then pushed her back.
Unnerved by the realisation that the guard was a woman, Miriam searched in vain for Tilla’s mind. She could only identify Iseld’s thoughts because she was standing right beside her as they watched the sturdily built guard read the parchment.
‘Will the girl called Miriam come to me,’ the woman shouted.
Miriam looked at her then back at Iseld. She could feel Iseld’s worry for her rising above the anger at the attack. Abruptly Iseld’s mind went blank. Miriam was distressed to see a look of horror on Iseld’s face.
‘That witch is Miriam,’ Iseld said, pointing accusingly at her.
The guard grabbed Miriam by the shoulder of her dress. Miriam tensed as the woman pulled her close. Miriam could not make out the woman’s face as it was silhouetted against the meagre light behind. However, what light there was, bounced off the guard’s closely cropped blonde curls, giving the effect of a halo.
The guard grunted and Miriam winced, but found herself suddenly surprised by the woman’s odour. It was sweet and feminine as if she had just come from bathing in exotic oils. The smell was at odds with the woman’s gruff behaviour and build. The theories as to why disappeared from Miriam’s thoughts as she found herself pulled through her fellow prisoners towards the back of the chamber and thrust towards two more women wearing leather armour.
The gruff guard then turned to address the other gathered girls, ‘You will now be taken to your accommodation for the time that you will spend here before you are sacrificed. We will all die one day; some will meet their fate sooner than others. We do our best to keep you as comfortable and happy as possible, within the confines of the citadel. Make the most of it.’
A door in the side of the chamber opened and the new inmates were lined up ready to go through it.
‘I’m afraid my dear,’ the guard said to Miriam, ‘that you will not get to enjoy the delights of the Harem.’
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