Miriam shuddered, she should have been happy; the terrace lay ahead of her, lit by the early morning sun. She walked out onto it. To the South stood a high parapet that blocked the view of the surrounding countryside. To the East and West the terrace stretched to the limestone cliffs that marked the entrance to the pit. To the North was the pit itself, surrounded by towering limestone cliffs. No matter which way she turned all Miriam could see was limestone or sky.
She would have liked to savour her first sight of daylight since she had arrived at the citadel, but she was recovering from another’s terrible end. Again, she had experienced the panic and terror, which was followed by the horrible pain. She hated herself as she remembered welcoming the victim’s death and the unconsciousness that followed. She was not sure, but her senses told her that the Dragon was gone. She stood up, behind her was the locked door that had prevented her from retreating into the safety of the citadel, and leant out from the entranceway where she had cowered during the Dragon’s feast.
Stepping out onto the roof top terrace, she felt the warmth of the sun upon her cheek, and she brought her fingers up to caress the skin of her face. She knelt down and for the first time since leaving Lahbland, she prayed.
‘Oh Mother of the Universe, help me. I may have wished to die and end this torment, please forgive such wrongful thoughts, look after me. Father I know someone who will put an end to this evil, my mother saw it, please send them now.’
Her prayer was interrupted by the sound of the door against which she had sheltered, being opened.
‘The gods will not save you here, they have abandoned this place, and all who live here,’ Galien tormented her. The large woman walked across and looked down at her scornfully. There were two other leather-clad women with her.
‘Did you sense the Dragon?’ she demanded.
‘Yes,’ Miriam replied.
‘Good, that will be your new job,’ Galien said then turned her head towards the Corps-women who had accompanied her. ‘We will limit the amount of time that the terrace is open to members of the corps, a session in the morning and one in the afternoon. Miriam must be present at both times. She will be able to sense the Dragon’s approach and warn those present.’
Miriam looked up at Galien as the older woman walked in a circle around her. Galien’s attention was not upon her though, and Miriam followed her gaze. Galien was looking at the limestone that surrounded them. Miriam hesitantly felt out to Galien’s thoughts and gasped at what she found.
Galien did not see the citadel limestone as holding her in, but as keeping the world of men out. She recalled the images she had seen in Sela's mind when Galien had tested her abilities. The pretty young girl considered herself a whore, but there were no men, only Galien in her thoughts. Miriam had thought Galien was jealous of the power men had, but she realised that the corps-leader didn't want anything to do with the world of men. Galien wanted a world where women were free to do what they wanted, to own and control their own destinies. Inside the citadel, Galien had the life she desired, and the dead girl's last thoughts finally made sense. Sela had made love to Galien in order to survive.
‘We all felt one of the sacrifices being killed,’ Galien said, ‘we will still have to keep you well away from the pit until the Dragon has finished with the sacrifices. What happened to the second girl?’
‘I don’t know. I felt her fear, but it faded.’
‘Is she still alive?’
‘I can’t feel her, but I did not sense her death.’
Galien continued to circle Miriam, deep in thought. Miriam looked at the other two guards who watched their commander closely.
‘We had better join the cleanup party and see what happened,’ Galien said, then addressing Miriam added, ‘It is time you should be wearing armour,’ and when the others had left she added, ‘leave my thoughts alone, they belong to me.’
Galien's threatening comment confirmed Miriam's impression that the corps-leader came from a very highborn family, possibly even royalty. Only someone from such a background would have been trained to detect the intrusion of another into her mind. Miriam decided to heed Galien's warning, but she would have to forgo finding out how and why a woman would make love to another.
***
‘Can we stop here for a short while?’ Ulrich asked.
Dafied sighed impatiently and said, ‘We have been on the road less than an hour.’
Ulrich looked up at the wine merchant’s impressive house, and thought that his uncle was right; they had only travelled to the village of Twofords and faced three more days to Ricksham if they made haste. However, the temptation Ulrich felt was too great.
‘I would like to say goodbye to Idela; I won’t take long,’ he said plaintively.
‘Very well, be quick about it,’ Dafied replied, but he did not look at him but around the village green.
Ulrich dismounted and made sure that the king’s colours were clearly visible on his arm before dashing into the house.
‘Good morning, Ulrich,’ Mistress Joanna greeted him, ‘this is an unexpected surprise, what is the hurry?’
‘I’m on the king’s business,’ he proudly announced, ‘I have to accompany my uncle, Sir Dafied, to Lahbland. I’d like to see Idela before I go.’
Mistress Joanna smiled at him, and tried to stifle a laugh by pretending to cough.
‘Idela has gone into the warehouse why don’t you dash in and surprise her.’
Ulrich knew the way through the house to the connecting door leading to the warehouse where he found Idela taking small samples from the barrels of wine. She looked surprised and a little upset at his arrival. It could have been because she was dressed in an old shirt and skirt, which were torn and had stains in them. There were also smears of dirt on her face.
‘Hello,’ Ulrich said and before she could reply he gabbled, ‘I’m going to Lahbland with Uncle Dafied, and I wanted to say goodbye before I go.’
He stood there nervously, not sure if she had understood him. To his relief she smiled and walked up to him.
‘Why are you going there?’ she asked.
‘On the king’s business,’ Ulrich proudly replied, making sure that the colours on his arm were to the fore.
‘Take care won’t you,’ Idela said.
Ulrich could not resist any more, pulled her to him, and flattened his lips against hers. She struggled, tried to speak, and push him away. Finally, she was able to stop the kiss.
‘Slow down,’ she said, ‘like this,’ and she gently pulled his face to hers and kissed him. He decided it would be best to follow her lead, and soon she was tightening her arms and breathing rapidly.
There was a loud crash and four men wearing red uniforms appeared through the connecting doorway. Ulrich pushed Idela behind him.
‘Stand aside, boy,’ one of the men ordered. Two were carrying drawn swords; another carried a set of manacles, the forth, who appeared to be in charge, rested his hand on the hilt of his own sheathed sword.
‘Idela of Twofords,’ he announced, ‘you are to surrender yourself to my men. You will be taken to the Citadel at Denholme, where you will be presented to the Dragon.’
‘No!’ Idela screamed and ran further into the warehouse. The four men went to follow her, but Ulrich stood in their way. The leader punched Ulrich heavily in the stomach, and he went down winded. Each of the other men gave him a kick as they passed. He was unable to move for several minutes, during which time the men had caught Idela and dragged her screaming from the warehouse. Ulrich staggered out to see her struggling as she was bound then hoisted onto the back of a wagon. Ulrich ran to his horse and pulled at his pack trying to get at his sword, but Dafied put a restraining hand on his arm.
‘You can’t do anything,’ He said.
Ulrich shoved him away.
‘There are too many,’ Dafied continued to say, and Ulrich looked round to see a troop of mounted men, all wearing the Selector’s red uniform.
‘I can’t just let them kill her,’ Ulrich declared, staring his uncle in the eyes.
‘You have to, it would be treason to stop them, doubly so as you are on an errand for the king anyway.’
Ulrich hid is head amongst the packs and listened to Idela’s angry shouts.
‘You can’t do this,’ she shouted, ‘I have to be examined first.’
Ulrich looked up and saw the leader lift up the struggling girl’s skirts. Ulrich could see clearly the brand upon her ankle, but he was sure the Selector’s man only gave it a cursory glance.
‘Yes, you’re the one.’ Ulrich was not convinced the man cared whether he had the right victim or not.
‘By a midwife, you idiot,’ Idela screamed at him, ‘I have to be examined by a midwife. Send for Mistress Bruna.’
Ulrich could see that Idela’s plea was not directed at him, but towards anyone within earshot, but no one appeared to be listening. Suddenly, the village became unusually deserted.
‘We don’t have time for this,’ The leader said, ‘besides if you are not a virgin the Dragon will leave you alone.’ The rest of the Selector’s men laughed at this. ‘You’ll just have to explain to your family why you were not eaten.’
Ulrich looked back at Idela and found he was looking straight into her grey-green eyes, he felt ashamed and hid his head amongst the packs again whilst the Selector’s men mounted their horses and left. He straightened up and looked around the empty street, then saw Mistress Joanna in a heap on the stairs to her home. He went across to her and put his arm around her.
‘If only your mother would have agreed,’ Mistress Joanna sobbed into her arms.
‘Agreed to what?’ Ulrich asked.
‘To a betrothal between you and Idela.’
‘She’s never mentioned it,’ Ulrich said.
‘I only made the proposal yesterday. That is why we visited.’ Mistress Joanna sat up and started to wipe the tears from her face.
‘Oh why didn’t she mention it, I’d have agreed to it.’
‘It wouldn’t have been registered in time,’ Dafied pointed out. ‘Come on Ulrich we have to be moving.’
‘Has the war totally removed your kindness,’ Ulrich yelled at him, ‘can’t you see this woman needs help.’ Ulrich helped Mistress Joanna to her feet and up the steps into the house.
‘You’re a good boy, Ulrich,’ Mistress Joanna said, ‘I would have liked you as a son-in-law; your mother said she might agree to a match with Vanda.’
Ulrich’s shoulders sagged; Mistress Joanna had already given up on her elder daughter. She gave him a hug.
‘I think you had better go,’ she said, ‘my husband will be home soon and the loss of her dowry will break him. Besides, you don’t want to get into trouble with the king.’ She kissed him on the cheek and bundled him out of the house.
***
The heavy oak door swung outwards, and Miriam followed Galien into bright sunlight beyond. Miriam looked up at the limestone cliffs that she had seen from the citadel roof, but from the pit floor, they seemed even higher. She turned back and saw the citadel walls rising up. They were not as high as the cliffs but she estimated that they must have a couple of hundred of feet high. There were no windows making them seem taller, more foreboding. The dressed limestone blocks were the same colour as the cliffs and seemed to merge with the natural stone where the wall and cliff met.
Miriam tried to make herself comfortable in her armour, but the leather was rough against her skin and the poor fit meant the edges rubbed under her arms. She ran her fingers over the offending areas and tried to think how best to alleviate the discomfort.
‘Can you sense anything?’ Galien asked her voice echoing of the limestone.
Miriam shook her head; all she could feel was the cleanup party’s fear. The party consisted of five corps-women, who wore rough aprons to over their armour. They moved slowly across the pit floor. Miriam surmised that at one time it had been a quarry. The citadel was obviously built from stone extracted from it. The cliffs had been worked smooth, and looked almost as artificial as the citadel wall. There were no handholds for anyone to use in an attempt to climb out of the pit. The floor was flat and almost completely level.
Longer than it was wide, Miriam had difficulty judging how big the pit was; there were no features for her to judge its scale against. In the distance, she saw a group of three posts sticking out of the ground, which she thought would be at least the height of a person. Their apparent size meant that the far end had to be three or four hundred yards away. After a several minutes cautious walking, the party had travelled halfway across the pit floor where they stopped.
At their feet lay a grisly sight. Arranged neatly in three piles was what Miriam assumed were the remains of the sacrificial victims. A pile of bloody material lay close to a stinking mass of entrails, and beyond were the bones, picked clean.
‘There is only one here,’ Galien said, ‘find the other.’
One of the corps-women jogged off towards the three posts, her head swivelling from side to side, as she sought out her quarry.
The four remaining members of the cleanup party set about their gruesome task. They shovelled the material and entrails into a bucket whilst the bones were placed into a sack. It took less than a minute to clear the mess. The other corps-woman had not returned so the party waited nervously. Miriam looked round for the fifth member but could not see her. Then she reappeared from behind a pyramid of limestone blocks near to the three poles. She sprinted back.
‘There’s no sign of her,’ she declared.
Galien surveyed the pit, a grim look on her face, and then she turned to Miriam and asked, ‘Can you sense her?’
‘No,’ Miriam replied.
‘Maybe the Dragon lifted her out of the pit,’ one of the corps-women suggested hopefully, ‘like Serilda.’
‘I do not like this,’ Galien murmured, ‘we will sacrifice two more again tomorrow.’
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