The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

Jacinta was screaming something too. The black daimôn grabbed her from behind.

"Look out!" he cried.

It was too late.

A blast of heat knocked him to the ground.

When he could look up, there was nothing left, only smoke and blackened, scorched, earth with waves of heat rising up in the air. The two people he loved more than life itself were gone.

He staggered over to look where Elena had been. He couldn't even identify her body. He dropped to his knees, heedless of the smouldering grass and threw his head back and howled in agony and rage.

 

Chapter 3: The Aftermath

In the distance there was a horse, eyes white with terror, nostrils flared and sides heaving.

Hakeem stumbled over the grassy meadow and called to it. It trotted a little way towards him looking for comfort and then paused, uncertain. He came closer and whispered to it and stroked it until it let him mount.

His heart was dead but duty kept him moving. He heard a horn sounding the signal to regroup and he turned the horse to follow the sound. By the time he arrived back at the manor house it was close to sunset.

The fires were spreading now unchecked and the wind was blowing strongly to the west. Soon the manor would be cut off from the other side of the river. He sent Pericles with all the wounded and as many Greeks as they had back to the citadel.

It would have to do.

Belamus arrived with his elves to report that the remains of Mòdú Chányú's army were in retreat back through the Dariel Pass, their leader dead. It gave Hakeem a thousand elves and three hundred Shantawi under his command.

"The fires are moving too quickly," Hakeem said, addressing the men. "We will have to head south if we are to have a chance to deal with any stragglers from Jizhu’s army ."

"We should let them go," Belamus said.

"None that we find can be allowed to live," Hakeem corrected him.

"So you wish to shoot men in the back as they run," Belamus said bitterly. "You wish to murder any that throw up their hands to surrender and you wish to kill the wounded."

"I do, Belamus. I wish to do all those things," Hakeem admitted. "Where is your King, Belamus? Where is your Queen? Where is your Lord Héctor?" He paused and continued softer. "Where is your city and where are your people? Where is my wife and where is my daughter?"

"So, in the end, after all your fine talk, it's down to this, is it? You wish to seek vengeance."

"No, Belamus, I don't." Hakeem looked infinitely tired. "The Hun who came by the Dariel know not to trouble you again, but what of these others? They almost won. They were defeated by an illusion, Belamus. They know you are almost destroyed. If we let them leave easily they will come again" He took a deep breath. "Is that what you want, Belamus? Do you want them to return with more men and more daimôns?

"What is wrong with you, Belamus? These men have brought daimôns into the world! I don't care who is innocent amongst them. If I could I would follow each and every one of them till the very end of the earth and destroy them, so no one would dare do that again

"But we don't have the strength. What we can do is chase down and kill any in your borders. We will give them no quarter. We must leave them in no doubt that they have suffered a great defeat and they must never come again"

Belamus looked away and then he glanced at the remaining elves. Some refused to meet his gaze. Some looked back, anguished. He nodded, very slowly, and then bowed his head in defeat.

"You are right, I hate to think it. This land must never see such an evil again. Our very souls cry out that it is already too much, but there is one more horror we elves must face. It will be the worst yet, because it will be the evil we ourselves must do."

* * *

The fortress of Elgard

The fire was moving rapidly through the east bank of the city and would soon reach the river. The air was heavy with ash and burning cinders. The elvish love of their trees and their colourful wooden houses had betrayed them.

Pericles and Neros were the most senior commanders left alive in the fortress. It fell to them to take charge of the western part of the city. Pericles was shocked when he found his older brother deferring to him. Then he realised. Elena and Cyron were dead. He was the Queen's Consort and Regent for his firstborn son. Till Seléne returned, he was in charge.

It was he who must, for a short time, rule the elves.

"It will take a while getting used to this," he said with a wry smile. "For the moment, please stay in charge of the fortress and what remains of Elgard."

Many of the elves at the citadel were badly wounded or burnt. Others were in shock, numb, appalled at the totality of the destruction.

Neros and his Greeks had seen it before, amongst the Athēnai after the destruction of their fleet at Greek Troia and they knew what to do. Treat them very gently but keep them distracted so they didn't immerse themselves in thoughts of horror. It gave them the best chance of recovery. Get them to contribute in some small way if they were able, rather than feel totally helpless in the face of such an overwhelming cataclysm. Watch them so they don't slip back into sitting around in a daze. Don't trust them to think clearly, not yet.

Restoring order amongst survivors, organising temporary accommodation, tending to the wounded, organising food and supplies, and getting scribes to start to draw up lists of those who had survived, those who were wounded and those known to be dead ... the tasks were endless and they were desperately short of ambulatory helpers.

The lower fortress was badly damaged but that could wait.

Burning cinders were being blown across the river by the strong winds. Pericles sent Leonidas and his surviving engineers with as many Greeks he could spare to organise the elves and humans into bucket brigades and they set up mobile water cannons to defend the bridge.

Leonidas talked of the possible need for 'back burning', burning homes and forest in the path of the fire, so when the main fire reached them, it had no fuel to burn.

Fighting fire with fire he called it.

It seemed the height of folly to light more fires but perhaps it made some sort of sense. It was all too much for Pericles and he had too many other things to do so he gave Leonidas full authority.

The road to Mtskheta was still open, as was the road west through the Likhi Mountains to the Kolkhis plains, but the river through the city had become choked with debris and smoke. To communicate with the east, he had to send couriers south to the town of Kalaki where there was still a ferry working across the river.

Sunset that evening was as beautiful as it was terrible. The setting sun hung like a yellow-crimson ball. The sky itself seemed on fire, the red clouds raked as if by a woman's fingers. And at dusk the whole of the east glowed with fire, from one end to the next.

* * *

Nothing could be done about the fire in the east of the city. It was only by a constant desperate battle day and night that they kept the fire from leaping the river. On the third day the wind shifted, blowing the fire back on itself and a light rain began to fall.

The east bank of the city had been completely destroyed. Many of the elf women, children and old men who had been ordered out of the city would return to find their homes in ashes. Some survivors of the battle on the east side had made it to the bridge; a few managed the perilous swim across the river clogged with debris. Most simply perished in the fire.

Between the fire and the recent war, the toll was incalculable.

At Darband a hundred and sixty thousand souls had perished, most of the populace. Those who had fled there and the troops that had rushed to that city's defence. Much of that city’s fishing and naval fleet were gone .

Of the three thousand Shantawi that answered the call to defend Elgard, barely half would be returning to their desert home. The three hundred Makedóne volunteers, the four thousand Greeks and Troians who sailed to Elgard had suffered a similar fate.

But of all the defenders of Elgard, the elves suffered the worst. They had flung themselves unstinting against both daimôns and impossible odds as if to shield their land and homes with their own bodies. And they had died in their masses.

Two thirds of the elf army and militia stationed around Elgard were missing or dead, half of their total army throughout the whole kingdom. It was as if the defenders and their allies had suffered a terrible and crippling defeat, not a victory.

Of the enemy, it was uncertain. Some two thirds of the army of the east survived, but out of the army of the west the greater number were dead, lying along the Dariel Pass or incinerated at the elf gate.

Hanging over it all was the constant fear of another attack. Hakeem was out there somewhere, mercilessly hunting down enemy survivors and re-establishing security.

He set elves to dismantle the traps and re-open the Dariel Pass and the border with Azar Pāyegān to refugees. There was a constant trickle of Skythians from parts of Kohestan and the destroyed trading towns far to the north and some from Azar Pāyegān who did not want to stay and suffer under a Hun occupation.

Hakeem explained in a letter to Pericles. Starving refugees lurking near the borders were too much of a danger. Most shared a burning hatred for the Huns. He said any that would swear allegiance to the Elvish Queen should be allowed to pass. This would strengthen the elves who had lost too many men in the battle and they had a lot of open land, housing and stores of food and supplies set aside for the war.

Vishtaspa wrote a letter proclaiming himself Duke of North Kohestan and offering his allegiance to the new Elf Queen. It was rumoured he was engaged to be married to a certain lady-elf ...

* * *

It was the sixth evening after the siege of Elgard that Pericles heard Hakeem had returned and he sought him out. He found him in a field hospital not far from the bridge, in the shadow of the fortress.

"The burns are the hardest," Hakeem said wearily, wiping his forehead and leaving a streak of soot. "I need enough healthy skin. If there is too little they will die no matter what I do. I don't know how some of them have lived till now." He noticed the burn on Pericles' cheek and face. "Do you want me to fix that?"

"No." Pericles grimaced. "I will keep it as a reminder. I think the elves are in awe of me and my Greeks. It is just as well, because I will have to help rule them for now. I am in charge of this mess until Seléne returns."

"The Huns have gone back to the Sakā lands," Hakeem said. "They believe we had our own daimôns that defeated theirs. Jizhu has had to go back to his homeland to be declared Chányú. If he has the same problems as Aléxandros did, and he will, we won't be seeing him for a while, if at all."

"Sophie says the cities of the Krimean and the northern coast of the Black Sea in the west are rebelling, and there are no Hun left in Makedonía," Pericles added. "There is only Gansükh in control of Azar Pāyegān (Azerbaijan). He has been given a single tumen of Hun by Jizhu, the local army, and his daimôn to guard him."

"Leave him," Hakeem advised. "Every time he uses that daimôn it weakens him. I doubt he will move against you. I will leave one of the last two javelins my daughter used in the catacombs, just in case."

"We won," Pericles said. "It seems impossible, but at what cost? Hakeem, I am sorry."

"There are many who grieve, Pericles."

"It was the daimôn lord, the big black one that saved us in the end. He made the enemy think they were being overwhelmed by a daimôn army."

"Jacinta must have done some deal with him." Hakeem's gaze became distant. "Some of the men heard her call him 'Ba'al'. It simply means 'Lord' in my tongue. It helped her destroy Æloðulf. Then something else appeared and killed my wife. We were all half blind and deaf by then. It must have been Gansükh's daimôn. After that, the black daimôn turned on Jacinta."

"You mean Jacinta had summoned it?"

"Not summoned, but she had some sort of deal with it. She had just killed the other daimôns and Æloðulf, maybe that's why it stopped obeying, or maybe that was the deal she had struck."

"What she did was very dangerous," Pericles said softly.

"I think she knew that, Pericles."

"It was her that saved us, then. Without her we would all be dead and it would all be over," Pericles said.

"Yes, but it cost her her life." Hakeem paused. "She was only fifteen. And I ..."

There was a long pause.

"The Illvættir war is over, after all this time," Pericles said.

"Yes, but it has taken my family with it.... Pericles, I have work to do."

"I hear you opened our borders to refugees."

"You are in charge now, but if you take my advice you will welcome as many good refugees as you can possibly get. The elves can no longer protect this place. If you take in enough refugees and ally with Vishtaspa you might just hold on. Consider it my last act as your Warlord."

"Hakeem." Pericles was distressed. "You can't just stop, after all you have done."

"As a matter of fact, I can, Pericles, and I will. I will still be the Shantawi Warlord but they won't call on me again. The war is over. You are far better off without a Warlord, believe me."

"At least you will come and speak to us before you go, won't you?" Pericles asked.

"No, I won't."

For a minute Hakeem's anger flared. "Can't you see it, Pericles? I have nothing left." His voice softened; his face was haggard. "What more can you people want of me?"

The words hit Pericles like a blow.

"Are you angry because we didn't save her?"

"Elena?" Hakeem shook his head. "If anything, I'm angry at myself, but, no, I know that's wrong. Elena knew she would die in the war. I think we both did, though we were never able to talk about it. I hear Jacinta knew she was going to die too.

"I'm just glad we ..."

His voice broke and he wiped at his eyes.

Then he drew himself up.

"I am angry with you because you won't let me be! I have some land in the Troad. Let no one think to follow me. I'm finished with all you people."

"Hakeem! Please, you can't just leave!" Pericles looked at him in anguish. "Seléne will be here in a few days. She needs you; we all need you. Elena was her sister too and Jacinta was her best friend."

"Ah, Seléne." He bowed his head, his shoulders slumped.

"Tell her I'm sorry, Pericles, I really am. Now leave me!"

He gripped the hilt of his sword and took a threatening step towards Pericles.

"Just leave me," he said softly, as Pericles turned to walk away.

* * *

It was the eighth day after the great battle.

The sky was pencil grey. but an earlier drizzle had cleared by the time the royal carriage and its escort arrived in a clatter of hoofs and the creak of leather and wood.

Seléne stumbled out, having to be assisted by a courtier.

She looked exhausted. The twins in Melissa's arms were crying. As Pericles lifted one twin in each arm and hugged and kissed them by some miracle of elvish babies they quietened, at the touch of their father.

"Oh, Pericles, for all the love of the Mother, what am I to do?" Seléne asked tiredly. "Our beautiful city, so many dead."

He bent over, encumbered by their babies and kissed her.

"Darling, you have been hurt."

"Burnt," Pericles admitted. "I wish I could have done more, Seléne. Your father, your sister, Héctor and Jacinta: they are all gone."

"Hakeem?"

"He left a day ago. It has completely destroyed him."

Seléne looked like she had been struck. Her lip quivered and tears came to her eyes.

"It is hard to believe the sun can still rise in the morning," she whispered.

"Great Queen," one of their courtiers said. "The people are waiting to see you: you and your family."

"Then," Seléne said turning to Pericles, "let us give them their show. The sacrifice of so many cannot be in vain. I will keep this corner of the world safe for my people if it kills me."

* * *

The entourage of nobles and officials waited on the balcony.

The crowd below, human and elf, many with injuries, had been waiting patiently in the rain.

When Pericles and the twin boys appeared, they let out a great cheer. The desperate hide and seek of Greek defenders fighting against the daimôns would pass forever into legend.

There were many legends made in that last desperate defence of the city.

Then Seléne joined them, wearing a dark blue gown. Up close the new Queen looked drawn and her face was even paler than normal against her dark hair. The bump of her second pregnancy was obvious. The crowd didn't care, she was now the Elf Queen and the senior royal.

The new Queen took a deep breath and all her fears and tiredness fell away.

"My dear, dear, people, humans and elves, we have won."

A great cheer rang out.

"I have here an offer of peace from Gansükh."

There was a stunned silence.

Then there were growing murmurs of disquiet as she held the document for all to see. She nodded to Pericles who came forward and cut it in half with his knife and threw the pieces to the crowd below.

"The horror of what the enemy has unleashed upon us can never be forgotten and can never be forgiven. If any of our enemies or the sons of those enemies step on any land that calls me Queen whilst ever I live, their lives will be forfeit. This I vow on the blood of those they have murdered.

"Too many have fallen, too many are maimed and too many are scarred. There are not enough elves left. The Elvish Kingdom is no more."

There were gasps of horror and growing noise from the crowd.

She held up her hand.

"Together, we will build a new Kingdom, something to be proud of. The duke of Msndr has sworn allegiance to me, so Msndr and Tarkis are joining us. Amongst us elves stand many dear human friends and refugees. Through our suffering and through a common enemy we are one.

"From this day forward, any human who has fought for us or suffered from the Hun in any way may join my Kingdom and be welcome, as long as they swear allegiance to me and respect our laws and customs. It will be with one condition."

She motioned for Pericles and her children to come forward. Her voice rang out.

"When they marry, they must marry an elf. And any of my full blood elves who are left single must marry a human. This shall be for the duration of my reign."

There were gasps and troubled murmurs but Seléne raised her voice again

"It is the only way left to us elves," she called out to the people. "Every time a Greek man comes amongst us, one of my lady elves falls pregnant."

There were smiles at this and a little laughter. Melissa, standing behind her, blushed.

"I suspect human women will find the same with elf men. I think this is the final meaning of the Prophecy. I think this was the way we were always meant to end the curse of the elves.

"With love.

"The Kingdom of Elves may be finished but I propose we will build something greater. It shall be the Kingdom of the Half Elven: the very best of what the elves and humans together can make."

With that, elvish voices were lifted in a hymn of victory and hope above the frenzied cheering of their human brethren. As Seléne looked out across her subjects the sun shone out between the clouds.

A great rainbow had sprung out across the heavens shining down on the survivors and their ravaged city.

 

The Assassin's Quest

Book 4

The Paladin Chronicles

2nd Ed

Neil Port

Copyright Ed 1© April 2015

Copyright Ed 2 Dec 2022

all rights reserved.

Is the Elvish Prophecy fulfilled?

Æloðulf is dead, Elgard is saved and the curse of the elves seemingly reversed, surely the Prophecy is now complete but it speaks of events that have not yet come to pass:

"Enter the locked room that is in 'No Place' and take its key ...

God's warrior must journey into the Deepest, that terrible place, to find the weapons and armour that are made for the man who never was, nor ever will be, and awaken that which lies within.

Only death will end the one of ancient evil, but he can never be killed. He is the one that no one daimôn, no one living, no one dead, no one made or not made and no one of the races of men can possibly defeat."

Is the Prophecy wrong or, with Jacinta dead, will her task pass to another?

 

Chapter 1: Two Journeys

She separated from her tribe at Abydos.

They were heading north to Bithynia. The Huns were gone now and the truce between the occupying Makedónes of Bithynia and the allies seemed to be holding.

Aléxandros seems more open, less treacherous than his father. Besides, Aléxandros had plenty to occupy himself with in the West, so everyone in Anatolē is praying for continued peace but not certain how long it would last.

Bithynia in the space of just years has had Lydoi, Makedonían and Hun armies riding, marching or fighting across it, backwards and forwards.

As it settled into a period of peace and recovery, there was plenty of work to be had, and for good pay and yet her grandfather had asked her to make a journey, and she loved her grandfather.

For three silver oboloí she got to share a wagon with a driver, two other passengers and a load of cloth travelling to the Troad. Her father and older brother had gone with her to help negotiate the ride.

They warned her once again to keep her knife close and handy.

They needn't have worried. The route was well travelled and it was patrolled. It was safe enough, even for a single woman.

The driver was a dour old Thessalonian. Her other travelling companions were Lydoi: Magnes, a quiet young tailor, and his wife, Tudo. They were coming back after their required visit to her family one year after the marriage.

Tudo was delightful company and chatting with her made the journey pass quickly.

They had reached the Skamandros River the afternoon before, and they camped by one of the small villages of the Troad. It was still early in the morning when she finally grabbed her small bundle, hugged and kissed Tudo before hopping down and waving to Magnes and the driver.

"I already told you, he won't see visitors," the driver reminded her mulishly. "You can save yourself the walk."

She smiled back. "He will see me."

The old man shook his head and watched the dark-haired Gypsy girl start down the uneven road to the village. In the distance they could all see the large wooden and mud-brick fortress on the hill. People had tried to visit the man who lived there before, important people, but he wouldn't open the gate and just screamed at them. It was a terrible thing, the ruin of what had been a great man. The old driver shook his head, muttering to himself as he thought about it, and called to his team to start.

It promised to be a warm summer's day.

The girl found it pleasant to be walking after riding for so long, but travelling didn't bother her. She was still young and she was born travelling the length and breadth of this land.

The village and the countryside looked prosperous. Their lord didn't neglect all his duties, then.

Men, women and children watched her from doorways, windows and nearby fields, but no one tried to speak to her. There was no point. She wouldn't be staying.

"He will see no one, get on your way, girl," the sentry called down to her.

"He will see me. I am family." She stood outside the gate and waited, hands on her hips, staring up through the shade of her broad straw hat.

It took some time before the sentry realised she wasn't going away.

"He'll see no one," the man started to repeat as he opened the gate a crack.

Then he looked at her in shock and swung the gate wide.

"It cannot be! Nikandros! Petros, come quickly! Look! She is alive and has returned!"

The men gathered around her excitedly. It took a minute for her to realise what was happening.

I really must look like her.

Well and good.

She told them not to wake him until she was ready. They looked confused and disappointed, but nonetheless scurried to do her bidding.

There were only four of them in the fort. They seemed to accept that a major clean-up was long overdue. One took her bundle to one of the tents but had to clean it out of empty wineskins and general refuse.

The owner of the hill fort was inside his tent and woke to a sound of smashing and glugging liquid and men's voices. His mouth was sour and his head pounding. He thought he heard a woman's voice and the men calling out "Lady!"

Was there a woman in the camp?

He struggled to remember when he last changed his clothes or bathed in the sticky heat.

He had been sleeping on a mat on the floor and it was hot under the blanket. He threw it off but the sudden movement made his head swim. He sat up with difficulty, trying to comb his dirty, tangled hair and beard with fingers.

Then he remembered he had been dreaming of Elena and Jacinta. They were travelling disguised as Gypsies. For a moment he remembered and tears came to his eyes.

"They are gone!" he cried out in agony.

Jacinta was standing by the door, scowling at him with her arms crossed.

"They are gone, and it's been all for nothing as far as you are concerned! Just look at you!"

Hakeem realised he was starting to see things.

"Wine!" he roared to his men.

The figure at the door viewed him with contempt.

"There's none left," she said with a smug expression.

Hakeem shook his head and blinked. She was still there,

"Jacinta!" His heart leapt with joy and breath came quickly, his headache forgotten. He looked away and back again and Jacinta was still there, staring at him with a look of revulsion.

"I am not Jacinta, my name is Asha," she spat. "It is only glad I am that my cousin didn't live to see her father lying like a dog in the gutter."

The ragged man in front of her started to cry. "Not Jacinta!"

Then something permeated through the fog. No wine left? He had twenty amphorae from Lesbos delivered, when? It was Wednesday last. It should last for moons.

His eyes darted to the wineskin hanging from the tent post, but Asha was quicker.

"Let me pour it for you, Uncle," she said with a vicious smile.

She picked up the wineskin and his cup. He could see now she was shorter, more slender than Jacinta. She deliberately poured the wine inches away from the mouth of the cup, splashing it onto the dirt and straw of the floor. Then she turned the cup upside down with a satisfied look on her face.

"Whoops!"

She took a deep breath, hands on hips, scowling at him. "You disgust me. I lost both my parents and so did Jacinta. She was so proud of you and look at what you let happen to yourself."

Hakeem hunched forward, wiping his eyes. "How long will you stay?" His voice sounded rough.

"I might stay a year, but only if you prove yourself worthy of me, Uncle."

Then the big man started to cry, his great shoulders heaving.

Asha waited patiently. After the fit had passed, she spoke more gently.

"Come on, Hakeem, they have breakfast for you. Then you will bathe and change, and then you will start exercising." She caught his look of interest. "No, I won't be joining you. I'm not my cousin. But if I'm to stay, no more wine." She surveyed his tent, her nose wrinkling with distaste.

"Beer? I can drink beer?"

She looked back at him sharply. She was surprised to see he was looking at her sideways with a glint in his eyes. She laughed. "No beer! If I'm to stay, I will have your oath on it."

Hakeem gasped. An oath!

"You're so hard. Are you sure you're not Jacinta? Why an oath? Can't I give you a convincing promise to do my very, very, best?"

Asha laughed again; she must really look and sound like her cousin!

"You can have breakfast and a bath. Then I'll have your oath in front of me and your men. I may not be Jacinta, but that doesn't mean I'm daft. Come on, Uncle, you may not be running great alliances any more, but there is work for you to do and you have neglected it for far too long."

"Asha," he whispered, his eyes moist. "Thank you for coming."

* * *

 

Fifteen months after the terrible events at Elgard

The summer sun baked down in a merciless assault. The very ground was burning, even through the thickest of boots. The wind brought no relief. It was like the breath of a furnace.

The summers had been unbearable since this drought started, but this was the hottest summer in memory. Many young adults had not in their lifetime seen rain. Even the toughest desert shrubs and salt-grass were dead or waiting in hibernation for rain that never came.

 

This was the bad-lands, the Kara-Kum (Black Sands) Desert.

To walk in the full sun meant certain death for man or animal.

A young man sat in the shade by the small well. His name was Usadhan.

He was a Sakā (Indo-Aryan), the youngest son of a prosperous trader. While very few travelled in the height of summer, he was an experienced traveller and his business was most urgent.

Still his group were cautious. They were up before first light, they rested in the mid-day heat and then they travelled well into evening until the light completely failed. They carried spare supplies and water and never strayed far from a source of extra water. There were many bandits and desperate men now but his was a large and well-armed group.

The man had stopped here, a little ahead of his main party, and would re-join them when they passed. This oasis was only a small stop: one large shop, a small cluster of houses, a spring and a large trough for camels and horses. But he liked it here and he came every chance he got.

The prices were cheaper. He liked the owner, Parvez, but most of all he liked Vira, the owner's youngest daughter. She had hair the colour of jet, smooth brown skin, fine Aryan features, a lovely smile and a sweet, loving nature.

Parvez was modestly rich and was honest with friends, though not of course with strangers. He encouraged Usadhan's friendship with his daughter. Even Usadhan's father seemed to be favourably disposed.

It would be a good match.

Just at the moment Usadhan was sitting drinking tea and thinking with pleasure about Vira, who had gone to prepare food before she would sit with him and serve him. Vira, like her mother, was a good cook.

The wind had been building all morning, restricting visibility and making it dangerous to travel. If it didn't die down, he might have to weather the storm here. That would not be bad, as long as it was only for a short time.

He thought he could hear the faintest tinkle of bells, from far down the road. It must have been the wind. No one would be out there now.

The wind was gusting now. It was hard to see.

Then he leapt up with astonishment.

He heard it again It was clearer, closer, and exactly like camel bells.

How could that be? Who would travel in this?

As he strained to see between gusts, he thought he could see shapes on the road. He screwed up his eyes to try to peer through the dust.

There!

A figure was walking camels in the middle of the heat and blowing dust!

Even the camels, creatures born of the desert, could not tolerate this blistering heat indefinitely. For a man it was rapidly fatal. The wind would suck you dry. Become dehydrated and you stop sweating. After that, there is not much time left as your body temperature rises. You become confused ... and then you die.

He yelled for Vira to summon her father and his men. No one ran in the summer heat, but soon there were over a dozen adults and many children crowded into the shaded areas to watch the arrival of this mad stranger.

"Get out of the sun!" they called out in Sogdiane.

The stranger stopped in the sun and shook his head. Then he raised a hand to wave to them before taking his camels over to water them. It was three of the local two-humped Bactrian camels. They were stocky and very tough, but slower than the one-humped Arabian camels.

They drank greedily; the trough level sank visibly.

They could drink up to a hundred litres each.

The stranger was tall, medium build, dressed in pants and shirt like Usadhan wore, not the loose-flowing robes of those who made the desert their home. His face was covered by a silk scarf with only the eyes showing.

The eyes looked like those of a woman! When she pulled her scarf off, he saw it was a woman smiling back at him.

She was maybe nineteen or twenty. Her skin was so black it glistened. It had a faint bluish sheen in the heat, unlike anything he had ever seen. She must be from Africa but her features were as fine as any Aryan.

And she wasn't sweating!

She stood in the heat without obvious discomfort. She was large for a woman and moved with the grace of a warrior. At her waist was an akīnaka (Scythian short-sword); she had a quiver on her back and held a compact bow in her left hand, already strung.

She said something incomprehensible, smiling uncertainly. Then she spoke words in a strange Aryan dialect a bit like Hindustani. It shared some words with Sogdiane.

"Welcome!" Parvez called in Sogdiane.

Three camels, she would be wealthy. She was alone. There might be an opportunity here.

She looked back at him strangely.

"Does anyone here speak Aramaic?" she tried, in one of the Semitic dialects.

"Welcome, stranger," Usadhan managed in heavily accented Aramaic.

He bowed. "Let me introduce myself; I am Usadhan and a traveller like yourself. Do you care to get out of the sun?" he finished somewhat pointedly.

"My name is Jess." The woman smiled. "And I thank you, Usadhan."

She moved into the shade but made no move to sit, glancing back to see how her camels were doing.

They looked poorly. Their humps (where camels stored their fat) drooped sadly.

"You do not look after your animals." Usadhan couldn't help the unfriendly tone that crept into his voice. Camels, after all, were greatly revered in these desert lands.

"The previous owners." Jess shook her head dismissively. "I need to buy feed for them. Grain if I can get it, though camels will eat almost anything ... and some flour and tea for myself. Will your friend sell it to me?"

Usadhan nodded and started to translate, but Parvez was shouting excitedly.

"I know these camels! Three weeks ago a dozen men rode through on camels; they were nasty types — bandits, I suspect. She has stolen everything. She is a thief.

" Even her clothes were being worn by one of the men. Tell her I know who she got the camels off and they are my camels!"

Usadhan smiled. This would be fun. Parvez would claim these camels were his. Parvez's two men stood expectantly on either side of him.

This meant a lot of money. Even if this thief did not believe him, she was one woman against many men. And a thief could hardly go and complain to anyone, assuming there was anyone left to complain to since the Sakā kingdoms had lost the war with the Hun.

But Jess had an alert look on her face. She moved out of the shade, fitting an arrow to her bow. She didn't understand what was being said but could read the body language and she was no fool.

"He says the camels are his," Usadhan called to her.

"And I say he is a liar!" she said clearly and drew her bow, pointing it at full stretch straight at Parvez. It was a heavy man's war bow but her hands were rock solid. One of Parvez's men moved to go forward but she merely shifted her aim and smiled at him enquiringly.

He subsided.

"I say your friend is a liar, which makes him a thief. Before I kill him, though, I want to make sure. If he can say what is written under the saddle of the middle camel I won't kill him; I will even give him these camels … or perhaps he is mistaken, they are not his."

After a brief exchange, Usadhan smiled. "It seems my friend Parvez is mistaken. It was a different three camels that were his. Will you join me again so we can talk and take tea in the shade?"

Jess shook her head but relaxed her bow and returned the arrow to the quiver.

She stayed watching Parvez's men cautiously. One of them saw her relax her bow and came at her in a rush. She grimaced as he ran towards her. At the last moment she deftly moved to the side, tripping him and pushing his shoulder down. He fell painfully, face-first into the dust.

"Tell him not to get up," she commanded, but he ignored her.

She found herself being circled by the two men with knives.

She sighed and walked to place her bow and quiver against a post. Then she stepped back into the centre of the men and waited. She didn't even draw her sword.

Parvez, Usadhan and the rest watched, fascinated.

At a nod from one of the men, they both rushed her from opposite sides. Jess again moved at the very last minute.

She was so fast!

She dodged away and as the men collided she brought her linked hands down on the back of one of the men's neck. As the other tried to stagger up she grabbed his head and kneed him hard in the temple and stepped back.

They lay, not moving.

It had lasted seconds.

She kicked their knives away from their hands and bent over, cautiously watching the men and the crowd, and tucked them into her belt. Then she went almost tiredly over and picked up her gear. When she had lifted her bow and quiver, she smiled sweetly to Usadhan.

"I didn't kill them. Tell your friend if he sells me what I need and doesn't cheat me, I will tell him where I let the other nine camels go free. Give me any further trouble and I will kill him and all of you here." She gazed over the people and their houses.

As she paid for her supplies and packed her camels, the rest were impatient for her to leave. Even a share of nine camels was a great amount of money. It seemed that it was only Usadhan who wondered. Who was this black woman? Her fighting ability was frightening.

If her supplies came from the bandits how could she be wandering the desert with little or no supplies? And what happened to the bandits? A single woman on foot could not possibly kill a dozen bandits.

 

 

Chapter 2: A New Slave, Twelve Sacks of Barley

The civilisation that had grown up in the oases of Kyzyl Kum (Red Sands) Desert and its southern sister-desert the Kara-Kum (Black Sands in modern day Turkmenistan) was a wonder to behold.

For millennia, the Sakā (Indo-Aryans) and those that had lived here before them, had built their well-planned towns, cities and strong fortresses.

To water their orchards, gardens and fields, to nurture their cities and towns, they maintained an intricate and far-reaching network of canals, some running hundreds of miles. Their canals stretched like a network from the great rivers that were birthed in ice and snow in the mighty mountains far to the east. The oasis lands of the Sakā were caravan stops on the great routes that carried trade across the known world.

The Sakā were a clever and industrious people, famous for their handiwork: intricate jewellery made of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, and carnelian, tin alloys and delicate combinations of gold and silver. Their libraries, like those of their even more civilised cousins the Persis, were amongst the greatest throughout the human world.

And so, they prospered.

They had become fabulously wealthy. Each of their great cities had fountains, gardens, well laid streets. And they had underground sewers made from running canals diverted underground. Their temples, homes and public buildings were richly decorated by the finest marble and brightly coloured ceramic tiles in patterns, scenes and calligraphy.

Even after two thousand years, the words of the great Khordad (prophet) Zarathustra (Zoroaster) still echoed loudly across this blessed land. He had called this place paradise on earth.

But what happens to such a place when the heat and drought goes on and on and some of the rivers and canals run dry?

What happens when barbarians swarm over the mountains in numbers beyond counting?

And what happens when bandits and starving people roam the countryside, killing traders and farmers? What happens when the organisation that maintains this vast civilisation, its canals and its secure trade routes, collapses?

The land of milk and honey in the middle of desert, which had given its bounty for countless millennia, proved itself to be fragile. Many fertile and green valleys had already disappeared, the desert had moved to reclaim them.

Even some land that could have been saved was no longer watered or tilled and the crops were never sown.

It was now eighteen months after the catastrophic events of the defence of Elgard and the same tall stranger walked out of the bad lands, this time of the Kyzyl Kum (Red Sands) Desert.

She paused for a long time, studying the tent-city surrounding a great oasis city. It was not too long after dawn and a smoke haze from cooking fires still hung in the air despite a light breeze.

There were always tents outside these great cities. It was where nomads and poorer transients camped and a few poor citizens of the city lived, free of the city tax. But this camp had a more permanent and desperate air. It was filled to capacity and beyond with families that had fled war and drought. They came searching for the tenuous safety of the city and empty hopes of work for hire.

Even from this distance the woman could see not only tents woven from goat's hair but other dwellings thrown together from anything that was to hand: palm leaves, mud and brush.

There were usually many animals and herds spread out over nearby hills owned by travelling nomads, but now there were few.

These refugees were starving here in what had become a place of living agony. They lay in listless hopelessness, their bodies gaunt and faces as withered as the crops in the field.

The dark woman checked that she had easy access to her weapons. She had good reason to be wary around humans. Then she shrugged. She needed supplies. Maybe a city with city guards would be safer than the small encampment that she had tried earlier.

She led her three camels back to the road and then began her journey down to the start of the refugee camp. Regular patrols kept the refugees back from the road. Only the elderly and sick were allowed to beg, and they had to keep their begging outside the city.

The woman wrinkled her nose at the smell of faeces, garbage, urine and sickness. She took her time to put a few coppers or a small silver coin in each of the bowls of those permitted to beg. She did not understand what they said, but their surprised and grateful looks were obvious.

Finally, she led her camels on and through the gate.

The walls of the city may have been of mud brick but they were huge, ten times her height. The gate, for decoration, had been built a third as high again It was covered with decorative marble and tiles that glittered in the sun. Over the top of the gate was a balustrade and gallery.

She wondered what it was for but it wasn't defensive; the Sakā and the Persis built many things for beauty, not always for practical reasons.

Beyond the gates, there was a crowd of visitors. Most were Sakā, like Gypsies but not so dark, the women with simple scarves over their heads and the men with Persian style square hats and square cut beards.

They seemed to be rich but a closer glance showed their fine robes were tatty and faded. Adding to these Sakā, there was a confusion of Chin, Scyths, Hun, Persis and even one well-dressed Greek hurrying on business of his own.

Jess gasped to see such a large pond so close to the entrance. So much water and only used for decoration and for the cooling breeze it gave! It was surrounded by a beautiful garden; there were even some roses growing.

The garden entrance was framed with a graceful high arch decorated with figures of storks to celebrate their yearly visits. She hitched her camels and entered to spend time watching the fish swimming in the pool and to admire the roses, always keeping one eye on her camels.

Nearby was a monument to one of the heroes of the city. He was sitting astride his horse, his sword at his side and his right hand grasping what must have been a spear that was long ago removed. His head was nowhere to be seen, presumably lopped off when the Hun had conquered the city.

Just across from the pond was a teeming market place, and Jess went back to collect her camels and make for that. No one there had ever seen the like of her before and several stopped what they were doing to stare as she passed.

She was tall, almost six feet, and muscular for a woman, dressed in a blouse and loose-fitting trousers. She had fine black features with dark brown eyes which sometimes looked tinged with yellow in the shade.

Her frizzy black hair was pulled back in two pig tails, which sat against her chest. The gorytos for her bow was hanging from her camel's saddle in easy reach. She had a large knife at her right hip and akīnaka (short sword) at her left hip.

"Does anyone speak Greek? Does anyone speak Aramaic?" she called out repeatedly and hopefully to the crowd of curious faces staring at her.

Eventually an old man came forward and gestured for her to follow. He led her for almost ten minutes till they reached near the entrance to a caravanserai. He spoke rapidly to a lady at a taverna just across the road from it and then with a cheerful wave and a wide grin he refused payment and disappeared into the crowd.

The lady ducked inside and a dirty girl, maybe eighteen, appeared. Her clothes were faded and patched. She wiped her hands on a towel, and looked Jess up and down, taking in her black skin and hair parted in the centre platted into twin braids.

"You don't look Greek," she said.

At last! Someone to talk to! Jess felt like kissing her!

"My name is Jess. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"My name is Pandora, I am from Astakos. It should be obvious what I am doing here, I am a slave."

Jess nodded her understanding; armies had moved back and forward across Bithynia and they had taken plenty of slaves.

"You'll get me into trouble with the owner Uvaxshtra, unless you buy something."

"Well, I'll buy something!" Jess laughed with delight, gesturing to the shop.

But Pandora's eyes narrowed when she saw Jess was wearing a single glove on her left hand.

"Take it off! Take it off now!"

Pandora looked wildly around in case someone had seen it. She moved forward to drape her kitchen cloth over the glove. "Are you crazy? They will kill you!"

"Pandora," Jess took a slow deep breath. "I'm not from around here. I hurt my hand a long time ago in a fight. Are you saying people will try to kill me because I wear a glove on one hand?"

"You're not one of them?"

"Pandora, I don't even know what you are talking about."

"All right." Pandora took a shaky breath. "Back where I come from there is a women's chapter of the Shayvist religious sect. They train as warriors. The locals call them Amazónes, after the Skythian name for fighting women. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them."

Jess looked at her blankly and pulled at one of her braids.

"Well," Pandora continued. "When they master the training, they wear a glove on their left hand in honour of their founder, Jacinta. You must have heard of Jacinta!"

Jess shook her head. "Pandora, I really am from a long way away. I would like to meet this Jacinta."

"She's dead," Pandora said bluntly. "Don't you know anything? Anyway, if men around her see a woman alone with a glove on her left hand, they see it as a challenge and want to fight them."

Jess's expression hardened, but Pandora was continuing.

"A while ago, a young woman came through here searching for her brother; her name was Katin. She was nice to me. I don't think she was much of a fighter but she wore a glove on her left hand. I think she thought people would leave her alone if she did. I heard in another town there was a large group of men. They raped her and killed her." Pandora shuddered.

Jess's expression was unreadable but her voice was cold.

"One day, I would like to meet those men." Then she gave Pandora a conciliatory smile. "I have the other glove in my pack. I can wear a glove on both hands, will that do?"

Jess found another glove and Pandora helped her arrange someone to feed and watch her camels. Then she led her to the tavern to break her fast.

There was only one dish on the menu: khoresht (stew) made from split peas, served with unleavened bread. The owner, Uvaxshtra, claimed it had mutton in it though this seemed doubtful. Despite that, it was spiced and lightly peppered and surprisingly tasty.

Apart from Jess, there was a group of young men sucking hot black tea through lumps of sugar. Jess had time to wonder what it would do to their teeth. A woman was sitting with them drinking salted yoghurt.

There were plenty of people walking the streets, but few had money to buy anything, so business was slow. Pandora was able to sit with Jess after finishing her chores. Jess offered Pandora some food and she ate hungrily.

Then Jess leant back to question her. She seemed particularly interested in Jacinta and the Amazónes. When she asked the name of the city they were in, Pandora gave her the strangest of looks.

"You're in the city of Buxarak (Bukhara in modern day Uzbekistan). Its name means 'place of good fortune', though I doubt many living here now would describe it as such. The Xiōngnú (Turks) destroyed the Sogdiane capital, Samarkand. Until it is rebuilt, this has become the main city for any trade, such as it is.

" It is on the Zarafshan (Zeravshan) River, a tributary to the Oxos. The same as Samarkand, which is upstream to the north and the east. Samarkand had the misfortune of lying not too far from the Fergana Valley, where the Huns first came. How can you not know that?"

"Pandora, I have been travelling without knowing the language. I mostly keep to myself and live in the desert."

Pandora studied her for a while and tried to decide what clever reason Jess might have to lie to her. "You expect me to believe you have been living in a part of the desert that has become so dry even the Badawiyyūn (desert nomads) cannot live there, and yet you don't know the name of anything, the land, the country or this city."

"I know deserts." Jess shrugged. "I have come from a long way away and I avoid people."

She put a silver siglos (equivalent to a shekel) on the table in front of Pandora. Pandora still looked doubtful so Jess added another one. Pandora made them disappear.

"How do I get to Anatolē (Turkey)?"

"I don't think you can. The long routes are almost closed."

"I want to find out about Jacinta and her Amazónes."

Just then the owner of the tavern, Uvaxshtra, came up, shouting something unintelligible, and cuffed Pandora hard. A blade appeared in Jess's hand.

"Jess, no!" Pandora pushed her hand down.

She got up reluctantly to follow him out the back and left Jess sitting there. As soon as they got there, Uvaxshtra gestured for her to take her dress off.

"Hurry up, you slut!" he shouted. "And give me that money that black bitch gave you. Did you think I wouldn't see?"

He raised his hand to hit her again but found his hand caught in a vicelike grip. A knife appeared at his throat and a black girl's face was inches from him, her warm breath on his cheek.

"Tell him, I want to buy you!" Jess said through clenched teeth.

Pandora just looked at her, baffled.

"Tell him!" Jess insisted.

She had a brief conversation with Uvaxshtra.

"He doesn't want to sell," Pandora said. "He set a ridiculous price."

Jess released him, "I understand the amount. I want him to say in front of witnesses that he is happy with the price."

"But that's more than twice what I'm worth," Pandora glared at Uvaxshtra, her lip curled in disgust.

"Pandora, just tell him I will pay his price."

"You can't! It's too much money!"

Pandora began arguing with Uvaxshtra. He kept shaking his head and smirking at her.

"You shouldn't have been so eager to accept his first price, now he won't come down. He has offered six talantoi of barley as part of the deal."

"Pandora, just let me pay him," Jess said. "I don't want his barley!"

"But it's all I could get."

Can't you understand that?

"I want him to say he is happy with the price in front of witnesses," Jess sighed. "I don't want him to claim I stole you."

"And why wouldn't he be happy with the price? He's laughing at us." Pandora spat in disgust. "It's lucky for you I got the barley."

Jess followed the two back to the tavern and bought herself her first slave ... and twelve sacks of barley, making a total of three times Pandora's weight.

She wondered how she would fit them on her camels especially if they tried to ride them.

She left her animals (and her barley) at the caravanserai and took Pandora to buy her some clothes. As they walked through the market, Pandora kept gazing at Jess out of the corner of her eye. Uvaxshtra must have thought that she had taken a sexual fancy to Pandora but Jess hadn't acted like that. Pandora simply couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Jess, thank you," Pandora said after Jess seemed to be happy with Pandora's second outfit. "I think you are a bit mad, but what do you want me for?"

"Pandora, I don't need a slave." Jess took a deep breath. "I will make sure you are going to be all right and then I will leave you here."

"Jess, you can't!" Pandora's hands flew to her mouth in terror. "Don't you like me? When you bought me, I was so happy. But you can't just leave me here! A lone woman in this place ... I'd last half a day, or even less. I would have to go back to Uvaxshtra and beg him to take me back."

Jess paused to study Pandora's face intently.

She was telling the truth.

"If I took you with me, I wouldn't be doing you any favours," she warned her. "I have powerful enemies. I will do my best to protect you but more likely we will both get killed or worse."

"Where are you going?" whispered Pandora, looking fearful.

"I am making for the Troad," Jess said. "Something tells me I have to go there."

Pandora let out a great 'whoop' of excitement and grabbed Jess and kissed her on the lips.

"Home? You are taking me home?"

Jess nodded grimly. "Yes, but we will more likely die in the attempt."

Pandora danced round making excited noises, repeating 'home' with tears running down her cheeks, stopping from time to time to hug Jess excitedly and thank her again

Jess sighed.

Even if they made it to Bithynia, what home would her new friend have to return to, after all the wars?

* * *

"Pandora!" Jess said, laughing. "If you 'ma'am' me or 'lady' me again, I swear I'll put you over my knee and spank you."

"Of course, mistress!" Pandora replied with a mischievous smile as she skilfully navigated the market.

Yes please, Jess!

Jess stood six feet tall, a head taller than Pandora. Her arms and legs showed strong feminine muscle and she moved with the grace of an elite warrior or a dancer. Her hair was jet black and her skin was very dark, showing ivory teeth whenever she smiled.

Pandora felt dizzy just being close to her.

Her head was in a whorl of confusion. It made her feel anxious and insecure. Everything was happening so fast and nothing made sense. At first she couldn't believe this crazy black woman was buying her, and why? And then the last thing she expected, Jess threw her into a panic by trying to set her free! This was not the place for a single woman to survive on her own, but Jess didn't seem to understand that.

It wouldn't be true for Jess, she realised.

She seemed so grim. What sort of experiences had made her this way? She was fast with her knife and confident in how she used it. Maybe she really could live in the desert like she claimed.

Yet she was an impossible paradox: she seemed so competent but didn't know the local language or even where she was, yet she spoke Pandora's native Aeolic Greek with barely an accent.

She seemed kind. She was treating Pandora well. She didn't have to do that. Underneath she seemed rather shy, but Pandora found she could draw her out and she could be good company.

She refused to say anything about herself. She said she came from a long way off. Her skin was dark, like a Nubian, but it had a faint bluish sheen the like of which Pandora had never seen before and her features were too fine for her to be a Nubian.

As in so many countries a man and woman could not walk together or touch one another in public, even a married couple. The man usually walked in front and the woman followed. But in the habit of female friends everywhere, they started to walk arm in arm or holding hands so they could chat.

At the same time Pandora was puzzling over her, Jess was also puzzling over her new friend.

Pandora's name meant having all (pan) of the gifts (dora) of a woman. In Greek legend Pandora was said to be the name of the first woman in the world. She was fashioned out of clay and endowed by the Gods with (all the) feminine gifts, to make her irresistible to man.

Typically, the Athenian Greeks saw such a beautiful (and hence powerful) woman as being sent as punishment to man (for stealing the secret of fire). Also, typically she was said to be the cause of all or most of the great troubles in the world when out of curiosity she opened a pithos (huge amphora, not a box) owned by Zeus who stored evils in it for whenever he wanted to curse man.

The Pandora of legend released all the evils into the world ... retaining only 'hope'.

Jess's Pandora was about the same age as Jess, maybe a year or so younger. She was slender with olive skin, almond eyes, fine features and long black hair, bound by a coloured hair-tie behind her head. Despite all she had lived through, she had an engaging smile and a ready laugh.

She was delightful company. Jess couldn't remember much of her own past, she couldn't remember back to a time when she had friends. She hadn't realised before she met Pandora that she was lonely.

She was completely lost in the city and her new friend had to take charge. The main contribution Jess made, apart from money, was adding suggestions when it came to supplies and showing by body language that these two women weren't ones rough men could bully.

Both women, for different reasons, were keen to leave as soon as possible.

"Not that way," Pandora explained as they left the city. "If you want to go to Anatolē, we need to head for the Oxos.

"Jess, do you have any idea how far this is going to be? With drought and war, law and order has collapsed. This will take at least six or seven moons, likely much longer."

"Not much of a plan, but it is all I can think of," Jess admitted, giggling.

"Well, let's go then!" Pandora giggled in return and led on.

Jess had seemed to be content to let her take the lead.

"Yes, mistress," she said, which made Pandora laugh.

Pandora's heart surged as they left the place that had been her prison for all these years. She was really going home! She shot a look of gratitude to her new friend and Jess smiled back. They began walking their camels at first but Jess planned to teach Pandora how to ride and care for them.

A group of six men on horses passed them.

"Don't smile at them!" Jess snapped.

She stood and watched them balefully as they passed. The message was clear.

Keep away! Try to touch us and I will hurt you! The men averted their gaze and hurried past. Jess watched them with a satisfied half-smile.

"Jess, I owe you my life!" Pandora cried out and did a pirouette, her arms out.

Jess smiled at her girlish excitement and optimism.

"Pandora, you do not. I don't like slavery and I don't like men hurting any who can't protect themselves. Buying you stopped me having to kill that bastard."

Pandora felt a shiver. "You would have?"

"Why, of course I would have." Jess laughed. "This is better. I would be seen as a murderer and you an escaped slave." She shrugged. "Besides, money is something I have."

Pandora was lost for words for a while and the two walked in silence.

"Who are you, Jess?" Pandora asked. "I mean where do you come from, what are you doing here? I know nothing about you."

Jess sighed and for a moment her eyes held pain. She looked unbearably weary for a moment.

"Pandora, you can come with me but as a friend and a free woman, not a slave. I will not harm you and I will do my best to protect you. As to myself, please don't ask again There are things about myself I cannot be proud of."

"I'm so sorry, Jess!" Pandora said, taken aback, and her eyes teared a little.

"It's not your fault," Jess smiled to rob what she had said of offence. "Now, you offered to show me some water where we can bathe, and then I will show you how to ride a camel."

"You would bathe before riding a camel?" Pandora asked.

"And after," Jess laughed, "And as often as I can! I like bathing and it's been a long time since I have had enough water!"

 

 

Chapter 3: Bathing

"Jess?" Pandora called out as Jess got ready to bathe. "Aren't you afraid of someone seeing you?"

Pandora's heart was racing as her friend casually pulled her shirt over her head and dropped her pants. She opened her mouth to warn her but nothing would come. In an instant Jess was standing there naked and relaxed in front of her.

"There's no one around," Jess replied confidently.

She didn't say how she knew.

Pandora felt dizzy and tingling all over. She couldn't believe it. Jess was just perfect! She was black; the faint bluish sheen only added to her magnificence. She was large and muscled. Her breasts were young and firm, her stomach flat and there was a black thatch of hair over her pubes. She moved with such grace. Her hair was tied back in twin plaits; her face was pleasant, feminine but strong.

"You're so beautiful!" Pandora whispered in awe.

"No, I'm not!" Jess laughed, "Now you, you are beautiful! I am too big and rather plain ... I know."

"No," Pandora shook her head. "You're simply stunning!"

"Do you really think so?" Jess asked, delighted, and started to parade naked in front of her friend. Without even realising it, she moved with perfect poise and balance.

"Yes," said Pandora in a strangled voice.

And you have no idea what you're doing to me, do you, Jess?

"Don't men tell you that all the time?" Pandora added, breathless. She suspected her smile looked more like a grimace.

Jess shook her head. No, Pandora thought. She had seen the look Jess had given the men earlier, no one would dare.

"Jess," Pandora asked with growing suspicion. "Have you ever let a man make love to you?"

Jess hesitated. It was hard to read her expression due to her dark skin ... and then she shook her head. Pandora was incredulous. Was Jess a virgin?

"What about a woman?"

Jess laughed. "Now I know you're teasing me. What on earth would two women do with one another? Men sleep with other men but women would never sleep with other women, They are not obsessed with such things like men are."

"Of course not," Pandora agreed automatically. She must have a silly look on her face.

"Well," Jess said brightly. "I'm going to have a swim, but I think you want to wait till after the camel lessons."

"Wait! Jess!" Pandora called out desperately.

Jess paused, the soap and a cloth in one hand and a question on her face.

Pandora almost ripped her old dress in her haste to get it off and follow her. This magnificent woman was asking her to come and bathe with her.

"I have a better idea!" Pandora ran up to her. "I will soap you down."

She grabbed the soap and cloth and gave Jess a little shove toward the water.

"Oh, Pandora. You really don't have to do that!" Jess said as she tried to grab the soap back.

She looked at her new friend shyly, touched by her kindness.

"Believe me, I want to," Pandora said, keeping the soap out of her reach.

I would love to!

"And I'll give you a massage. It's the least I can do after all you have done for me!"

And I can't wait to get my hands on that body of yours!

"Why, thank you, Pandora, but only if you let me do it for you afterwards."

It almost caused Pandora to break out into hysterical giggles. Where had this girl come from, the other side of the moon?

Jess put first her bow and quiver within easy reach but away from any dampness of the natural pond fed by a spring. She put her short sword closer to the water's edge. Then she waded into a shallow section where no reeds grew and rinsed herself and her hair quickly. Her hair was frizzy when she shook it out of its ties.

She sat obediently waiting for Pandora and glancing over her shoulder. She couldn't see the uncontrollable grin on Pandora's face.

"Relax, you're too tense!" Pandora complained as she worked the soap over Jess's back and shoulders, feeling the tone of her strong muscles with sensuous pleasure. Jess made an obvious effort to relax.

"You know, that does feel good!" Jess murmured. "But I could do this myself."

Pandora made no reply. She started to soap Jess's arms, how they glistened! She dipped the soap in the water again as she worked. She felt flushed and breathless and she was warm and tingly between her legs and knew she would be wet there too. She had never made love to a Nubian woman before.

"I can do the front," Jess said, reaching out her hand, looking a little dreamy.

Pandora gave her hand a playful slap. "No, I have to do it all, you just relax. Can you put your arms above your head for me for a moment, out of the way?" she said as she slithered around to face Jess's front. "That's it! ... No, I have to do all of it!"

Jess couldn't believe how good it felt. It was so sensuous! But she felt confused; it was starting to feel erotic. Her nipples were erect and her body was starting to tingle. Pandora gave her a reassuring smile, everything was normal. Pandora's own nipples were erect.

Jess stood while Pandora soaped her legs and then washed her off. Pandora told her to lie down on a large flat rock as Pandora rinsed her front and back, lingering on every part of her body.

She was trembling when Pandora had finished.

"Stay there!" Pandora commanded. "You're not going anywhere!"

Pandora raced to the saddle bags and got a bottle of scented oil.

She had Jess lie on her stomach and started to slowly massage her, kneading every muscle.

By the time she rolled Jess over on to her back, Jess was breathing heavily and her pulse was thundering but Pandora gave her what she hoped was a distant professional look. She was concentrating on the massage, not the magnificent body that was receiving it! Of course, she was!

When she started on the front, Jess involuntarily sat up. Pandora put her hand on her and slowly pushed her back down.

"You really have to learn to relax, Jess," she said, giving her a reassuring smile.

Jess smiled back, a little uncertain, and made another visible effort to relax again

Pandora started to spread the oil on Jess's breasts. It was cool and Jess gasped. Pandora started to massage and give some gentle squeezes to the nipples. Jess's body shivered under the touch.

Girl, you are just so naïve!

Pandora couldn't believe it had gotten this far without Jess understanding what was going on. Jess's body had started to move backwards and forward a little under her hands. Then Pandora moved lower to the wonderful taut muscles of her stomach, and then she went lower over Jess's mound.

She started to move back and forwards with both hands on either side: over the hips, across the groin towards her inner thighs. Tease ... closer, then withdraw.

By this stage, Jess was beyond caring what was going on.

"That feels good!" she whispered harshly.

Pandora slid her own naked body over Jess's and took a nipple in her mouth. When her hand slid down between Jess's thighs, she felt Jess's body go rigid, arching up and quivering. Her pelvis started to move in time with Pandora's stroking.

She smiled down at her and Jess smiled back. Jess stiffened and made a mewling sound and Pandora felt rhythmic contractions.

"Mmmm," Jess laughed in a shaky way after a few moments. "Thank you, Pandora. Is that what you wanted to show me?"

She kissed Pandora on the lips and hugged her naked body. They lay like that for several minutes and then Jess propped herself up on one elbow.

"Now, I promised to return the favour."

"Are you sure you want to?" Pandora asked anxiously.

"Yes," Jess smiled. "I think I'd enjoy that."

She stood up to lead Pandora back to the water.

It only took a few minutes for Pandora to discover that Jess was a very fast learner.

"Whoa, Jess!" said Pandora; she felt more than a little dizzy as they lay together afterwards. "Are you sure you haven't done this sort of thing before?"

Jess stretched across to kiss her and then shook her head.

"And you didn't know what I was doing until the very end?"

Jess looked down, smiling at her face. "Pandora, dear, I didn't know what was going on till it was all but over. But towards the end, I stopped caring or thinking. I was enjoying it too much!"

"I think I have just been a very naughty girl!" Pandora said, giving Jess a look of pure mischief.

Jess made no reply, only gave her a dreamy smile.

"Do you think you should punish me?" Pandora asked and laughed.

"Dora, Dora! I don't even understand where this is leading." Jess chuckled with mock exasperation. "I'm sure you will show me some day. But for the moment I am going to have a swim, and I mean just a swim. Then you will have your first lesson on looking after camels. If we don't concentrate soon, we will never get started."

Pandora had other ideas and Jess couldn't resist a sensuous hug and mutual exploration combined with a long tender kiss. Jess realised every time she looked at Pandora she probably had a silly dreamy smile on her face, but Pandora didn't seem to mind.

Pandora, she thought, all of the Gods' gifts in a woman!

As they were resting in each other's arms half in the water, Jess stiffened.

"Horses, three riders, and coming fast. They're not looking for us. They may pass us by."

Jess might be pursued, but no one who knew her would send only three men after her and they would definitely try to sneak up on her.

Pandora started to stand up.

"No time," Jess said and pushed her towards the deeper water and the reeds.

She cast a brief, longing glance at her bow sitting nice and dry a little way away from her and then she grabbed the short sword and dove silently under the water. She was gone in one fluid movement, hardly a ripple left behind.

The man in the lead, Utana, pulled his horse up.

"We really have to hurry," his younger brother, Xshayârshan, warned him.

"I can see a woman's dress!" Utana winked to his friend, Spengha. "Someone is bathing! With a dress like this and the camels, she must be a slave."

"Hello, whoever you are!" Spengha called out. "No need to be shy!"

The three dismounted and cast their eyes over the pond.

Spengha lifted up the dress; there were some man's clothes nearby. "Don't you want your dress back? I have it here for you! Why don't you introduce us to your boyfriend?"

Utana picked up the nearby bow and silently signalled his delight. A water bird took flight and the three snapped to examine where it had come from. They scanned the reeds, then Xshayârshan, who had the sharpest eyes, pointed to a patch of reeds.

"Well," Utana said conversationally. "Maybe I can shoot a duck for our dinner!" He stretched the bow back.

"Wait!" said a female voice. "Don't shoot, I'm coming out."

"She has a nice voice!" Utana said, grinning.

Pandora started to wade back. She hesitated, squatting in the water, not wanting to stand up.

"Stand up!" Utana commanded. He gestured with the bow half drawn. "We haven't gone to all this trouble without wanting to see you. Let’s have a good look."

Pandora stood reluctantly up. Xshayârshan's mouth dropped open and Spengha whistled. She was so beautiful! They all felt swelling in their groins.

"Put your hands up," Utana demanded. "Stop covering your body."

Pandora ignored him, yet she stood there while they took their chance to ogle her.

"Can I have my clothes back now?" she asked.

"No!" Spengha pretended to be indignant. "You haven't earnt them yet, has she, boys?"

Pandora felt a surge of fear.

Utana kept her covered with the bow and gestured for her to come onto the bank. Pandora came forward reluctantly. She was annoyed with herself when she started to cry.

"Please let me go."

"Let her go," said Xshayârshan. He was the youngest.

"Oh, we can't do that." Spengha couldn't stop grinning. "This lady is going to make a man of you today. Where is your friend, darling?"

"I'm alone. Those were just some clothes I had to wash."

"All alone," Spengha said, as if sympathetic for her loneliness. "Well, it's lucky for you we happened by to give you some company, then."

"Grab her arms!" Utana ordered, covering her with the bow.

Xshayârshan hesitated, then approached. "I'm really sorry," he said.

Pandora was crying freely now as the other two jerked her arms behind her back.

"No one needs to die!" a cold voice said behind Utana.

There was the clatter of him dropping the bow.

Jess had her left hand holding his chin and the short-sword pressed against his throat; she nudged the bow behind with her foot.

"Another woman! They weren't a man's clothes at all." Spengha laughed delightedly. "And you aren't wearing anything either. It must be our lucky day. There's no need for that, darling! We just want some fun, that's all."

Spengha left Xshayârshan holding Pandora and slipped around to move closer.

"She's bluffing," he said.

Jess regarded him coldly. She pressed the edge of her blade harder into the flesh over Utana's neck.

Spengha started to circle around, ever so slowly.

"Just stay calm, my darling, we are all going to become real good friends."

"That's far enough!" Jess's voice was hard, cold like ice.

"Just do what she wants." Utana was starting to look scared.

Spengha stared deep into the black woman's face and smiled. He watched her eyes and body for the tell-tale sign, the slight intake of breath, the slight narrowing of eyes, the tensing of the body, getting ready. Her expression didn't change. With exaggerated slowness Spengha took another step.

Jess stared at Spengha expressionlessly.

Her arm muscles quickly bunched and she gave a powerful jerk. Blood sprayed everywhere. Utana made a chocking sound as she threw his body aside. She was onto Spengha with the speed of a panther, stabbing him hard in the stomach, the blade angled up to pierce the diaphragm. He died without a sound.

Then she sprang at Xshayârshan. "Please, I'm sorry!" he said desperately.

She rammed her sword home. His youthful face was almost feminine in its beauty. His eye lashes were so long and fine. She held him to her, admiring him, until the light went out in his eyes.

"I'm sorry too." She lowered him tenderly to the ground. "You were too young for this."

Then she strode over to Pandora, who was scrambling backwards, trying to get away from her. She grabbed her and enfolded her in bloody arms. Pandora struggled to get free and then a dam inside her broke and she sobbed and sobbed, clutching at her friend. Eventually she was cried out.

Jess got up and walked into the water, washing herself carefully and dispersing the blood in the water with her hands. She would leave the bodies where they had fallen but she needed to clean up any evidence that they had been here.

"Can you clean yourself up and get dressed?" she asked Pandora. "Try to avoid more foot prints on the wet sand."

Pandora nodded mutely. When Pandora was finished, Jess led her and the camels back in the direction they had come.

"Do you feel up to leading the camels a little way? I want to cover our old tracks and you need to lay new tracks to show we passed at a distance."

"What about their horses?" Pandora asked.

"Too dangerous to take them, they have water and feed. When their family comes searching they will assume it's a blood feud. It's common enough. If a stranger comes, with some luck he will take the horses and their belongings. Nothing must link us to this killing."

Pandora numbly led the camels to the cross roads and waited. Jess eventually appeared, walking backwards, crouched low, lightly dusting their tracks with some reeds and blowing on them. She had a small hemp bag over her shoulder.

"The oldest and the youngest were carrying a lot of money," she said as she stood to admire her handiwork. "The sooner we leave this place the better."

"The boy," Pandora said heavily. "Did he have to die?"

Jess turned to face her.

"Dora, none of those men needed to die. They were not truly bad men. They were a rich man's sons and you were a slave. That gives them all the rights and you none. To catch you, was their luck. They wouldn't even consider how you felt about it. Afterwards, you would have to keep quiet. If there was any trouble for any reason, you would be blamed, not them. I didn't want to kill them." She shook her head. "Once I had killed one of them, I had to kill all of them."

"You don't care much either way, do you?"

"Not much," Jess agreed. "It was a pity. What else do you want me to say?"

Then Pandora knew.

"You're an assassin, aren't you? You're a paid assassin!"

"I was trained to be an assassin, yes." A flicker of old pain passed across Jess's face. "The ones who trained me died before I could work for them, but I would have gladly done their 'work'. I loved them."

"What if I meant to go to those men's family and tell them what you did?"

"They would kill you and then come after me," Jess said simply. "But to answer you, I have a code. You are an innocent, so I wouldn't hurt you. All I have killed have been in fair fights."

"That boy ... was that a fair fight?"

"I said it was a shame," Jess spat. "He was armed. Whoever trained him failed him badly. He didn't even try to draw his weapon after I had killed his brother and his friend. It wouldn't have done him any good but he didn't know that.

"Now consider this. He was going to hold you down while you were raped and then he would take his turn, do you doubt that? It would be his first 'conquest' and he would be very proud of it. Whilst I really doubt they would have hurt you, I can't be sure. Amateurs can panic and some men feel aroused inflicting pain on those who cannot defend themselves." Jess started to sound angry. "And I should have just let them rape you, all three of them? They wanted to rape me too. Did you want me to let them do that? All I wanted to do was warn them off. I never wanted to kill them, but they gave me no choice.

"Please don't judge me, Pandora. There are worse things about me. Things that, if you found them out, would cause you to hate me. But what can I do? I have never willingly done evil."

Jess looked at Pandora with pain written all over her face.

"I said you don't have to come with me and I mean it," Jess continued. Her voice broke slightly. She sounded so vulnerable. "If you want us to go our separate ways, I will give you a share of all I have. It will be enough to set you up."

Tears welled up in Jess's eyes and she shook her head, irritated by her weakness.

"Jess, I'm sorry!" Pandora cried, clutching at her friend. "Please forgive me! You have done so much for me! I was in shock that is all."

She dropped to sit at Jess's feet, her face pressed against her friend's legs. Jess squatted down beside her, there were tears streaming down both their faces as the two friends embraced on the ground.

Eventually Jess started to laugh.

Pandora smiled uncertainly. "What so funny?"

"If you could see the two of us, that's all; both down in the dust, crying and hugging each other." Jess dragged herself and her friend up and gave Pandora a lingering kiss on the lips. "Come on, we really have to leave."

"My last question, I will still go with you but I have to know. Are you going to Anatolē to kill someone?"

"Pandora, you may find this hard to believe. As soon as you told me about the Amazónes, I knew I had to go there, but before that I hadn't heard of them at all. The last thing I would want to do is to get into a fight with any of them."

"All right," Pandora agreed.

They smiled at each other and hugged again

"Perhaps you should teach me some of how you fight," Pandora said, laughing. "I used to hunt small game with a bow when I was young, but I haven't learnt anything else."

Jess stopped completely and turned to study her friend, intently.

"How serious are you?"

"Not very," admitted Pandora with a self-conscious laugh.

"I will get you a hunting bow and make sure you can use it, but nothing else," Jess said. "Remember that boy? A little training will only get you killed."

"I'd be better letting those men rape me?" Pandora joked.

Jess nodded; she didn't understand Pandora was joking.

"Two of them were strong men and the other looked strong for a boy. Unless you could win against such men, the more you fight them, the more they are likely to hurt you.

"I don't think they were bad men. In their mind, they were not doing evil because you were a slave, and because of how they found you. They thought of themselves as hunters and you were prey.

"Does a hunter feel sorry for an antelope? If you didn't resist too much and seemed helpless I don't think they would have hurt you. I think they would likely feel sorry for you afterwards and give you money."

Pandora looked surprised. "It sounds like you didn't hate them!"

"Why of course I didn't hate them." It was Jess's turn to look surprised. "I told you they were not bad men. Pandora, we need to go."

Away from the waterhole the land was flat and bare. There was no cover as far as the eye could see. It was crisscrossed by the tracks of nomads and they had left piles of stones as messages to each other. She led Pandora for half a turn of a glass away from the road, but decided to keep the road in sight.

They only walked the camels, till it was time to make a simple camp. They lit no fire, just drank water and ate some bread and cheese. Pandora fell instantly asleep.

In the middle of the night she woke to see the dark shadow of Jess standing, holding her bow strung with an arrow nocked, pointed down. There was no moon and the earth was black. The night was filled with brilliant stars. In the distance she heard the sound of many men and horses moving along the road.

"What is it?" Pandora whispered sleepily.

"Hush!" Jess whispered softly. "Get some sleep."

She tried to stay awake but after everything that happened, she just couldn't.

She dozed off with the image of Jess standing alert yet motionless, watching over her.

* * *

"Good morning, sleepy head!" Jess called out cheerfully.

Pandora opened one eye. It was half-light and Jess had made a small fire from dead saxaul (salt bush). She had made some unleavened bread and was frying dried meat in spices. It smelt delicious!

Jess grinned at her affectionately as she stumbled off to relieve herself. Her calves were aching from the unaccustomed walking on the loose soil. By the time she had gotten back and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and drank some water, Jess served her breakfast on a large slab of bread.

"Jess, I can't eat all that," she complained.

"Surprise yourself!" Jess laughed.

She had regained her good humour and showed no ill effect from her lack of sleep.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Pandora asked, feeling shame for not sharing the watch.

"Sleep is not something I need a lot of. The road was very busy last night. There were three very large groups of horsemen that passed by, going in a great hurry," Jess replied. "I think we have succeeded in killing the sons of a very important man. For travelling quietly, we haven't made a good start."

Pandora felt a rush of fear. "Should we make a run for it?"

Jess just laughed at her. "No. Running would only show we are guilty."

Then she gestured to the desert. "I can live in the desert, but not deeper than the nomads go. Getting lost in the deep desert is something neither you nor I would want. Soon they will come to question us."

She pulled a change of clothing for both of them out of one of the saddle bags. She hid Pandora's old slave dress under some rocks while Pandora changed.

"When they come, try to look frightened. You can be the slave-woman that I bought at the tavern, so just translate for me. They won't ask my slave directly, that would be rude. We are going to say that we were delayed by one of the camels getting away. It's common enough. Camels like to browse for food and often wander off, that's why you put bells on them.

"If they do ask, say we saw three horsemen pass us in a hurry just after midday. You didn't see their faces. If they push, you give vague details of the horses and clothes and the location, not detailed. Can you do that?"

Pandora smiled, amused. "Do you think I'll need to act terrified? Don't you think an ex-slave can lie when she wants to?"

Then Pandora looked at her companion in surprise. "Jess, is that a dress?"

Jess looked at her friend, clutching the dress to her, looking totally embarrassed.

"I didn't know you had any dresses!" Pandora exclaimed, delighted. "Put it on, let me see."

Jess reluctantly dressed for her friend. "I helped a trader who was in trouble and he made a complete outfit. I've never worn it." She gave an embarrassed cough. "I don't wear dresses."

Pandora watched, entranced as she pulled it on.

It was a loose ankle-length dress of white cotton with a broad black band that tied it at the waist. Below her knees were horizontal bands of colour interspersed by the white of the dress: there were two black bands at the very bottom, then an ochre band and finally another black band. Over the top she wore an embroidered red shirt and she finished with a crimson scarf over her hair and shoulders. Against her complexion it looked stunning! She looked stunning!

"Now I look like a pig in a dress," she muttered.

"No, you don't!" Pandora protested. "You look beautiful. Turn around and let me see! That's it! Now take a pose ... that's exactly right. Now sashay for me! ... Jess, sashay means to glide back and forth moving your hips up and down! Whoa, girl, you are perfect!"

Jess looked embarrassed but pleased.

"Well, Jess." Pandora looked at her with a fond smile. "I'm definitely going to want to get that dress off you later, girl, but for the moment we should move!"

They had not been walking with their camels for long when a group of a dozen horsemen stopped on the road across from them and turned their horses to walk them across to them. They were led by a grey bearded man, broad-shouldered and strong looking.

Pandora didn't even carry a belt knife. Jess had a knife tucked into her belt and her quiver over her shoulder. She fitted an arrow but held her bow loosely, pointed to the ground.

Pandora had no trouble looking frightened.

"Greetings, Kwdy (Lord)!" Jess bowed, keeping a grip on her bow as Pandora translated. "You do us a great honour to meet us. My name is Jess and my Greek slave here is called Pandora. Please let us offer you and your men some humble refreshment."

She gave a command to Pandora, who moved to get a wineskin and dried fruit from one of the saddle bags. The tribesmen didn't move. They remained on their horses.

"I thank you for your offer, my name is Arshan. It should be I who offers you hospitality as you are on my ancestral lands." Their leader looked grim. "Yesterday I lost two of my four sons. We hunt for their murderers."

"Who would do such a dreadful thing?" Jess asked. She returned the arrow to the quiver and relaxed her hold on the bow, allowing it to slide till it rested on the ground. "Lord, we offer you our prayers in your grief."

"We will find the murderers," Arshan said, dismounting. "Their horses, jewels and weapons were untouched, so it was not thieves. I have enemies, but I didn't think any would dare to act against me this close to home."

Jess looked thoughtful. "It was just after midday and still hot. Three men passed us travelling in great haste. They had horses like yours and were dressed in white such as yourself, but we didn't see their faces. They called out a friendly greeting so they seemed to be in good spirits. They came upon us so quickly that we decided to move back from the road. We are two women, as you can see."

"That was my sons and their companion." Arshan nodded.

Then he raised his voice in anger. "Two women!" he shouted. "What has ever possessed you to travel, two women, alone in these parts and with three camels?"

"Uncle, not by choice I assure you. With a bow I am a good shot, though my slave cannot handle weapons," she added.

"Well, the murderers made a mistake," Arshan continued grimly. "They took their gold. My sons were carrying a large sum of money. I wish to examine your money!"

Pandora almost fainted. Jess had taken their money, of course she had! But gold coins were issued by each local king and they were distinctive.

Jess drew herself up. "That you will not, ser, you insult me!"

Arshan coloured deeply, but he replied evenly. "I will recognise the coins. I need to find the killers of my sons."

Jess laughed. "And you think we did it? Two women, and one who cannot use weapons? Was a bow used?"

Arshan shook his head. "It was a sword. Even for a man it had to be someone very strong, and someone capable of killing three armed men. It couldn't have been either of you, but you are on my land. I will check anyway."

Pandora's pulse was hammering. They were both going to die, painfully.

Jess motioned Pandora forward so they could talk quietly to Arshan. She looked desperate. How was she going to stop him from searching? Pandora wondered.

"My Lord, you asked why I travel alone with just one servant that I bought only recently," Jess whispered urgently. "My family and all my friends were murdered. I only barely got away myself. So, as you say, I am a woman alone carrying a lot of money. If I show this in the open, we will have our throats cut. Please show mercy."

Arshan nodded. He clapped his hands and ordered his men to erect a tent.

"I will examine your money myself. Your secret is safe with me. I promise this by my honour."

Jess relaxed and smiled gratefully.

Pandora looked at her in horror.

Jess brought two bags from her camels and Arshan helped her carry them into the tent. Jess felt around in the first bag and produced a large purse. Then she did the same with the second.

She reached down the front of her dress and produced another purse and then took a small purse from behind her waist band and passed it across. Pandora had other things on her mind when she watched Jess dress, but she would have sworn before a God that those purses just couldn't be there.

Arshan looked at the amount she was carrying in amazement.

"Princess, please accept the apologies of your humble servant. I will tell my men they need search your belongings no further."

Pandora took a shaky breath of reprieve.

"No!" Jess shouted indignantly. "I would like the chance to prove my innocence!"

Then she continued more gently. "Please finish the search, Uncle; we will both feel better. I too had my family murdered. Just please don't say a word to your men about what I am. I travel in disguise and appear poorer than I am."

Arshan nodded. "Princess, you shame me."

Jess waited, looking determined.

What are you doing?

Pandora felt like screaming at her friend.

She felt like getting her by the throat and shaking her. She felt like leaping on top of her and tearing at her hair and clothes.

Jess gave her a serene look.

Arshan searched the remainder of the saddle bags. Then the three went outside to watch the rest of the search. Arshan was giving orders to his men, but everyone looked discomforted by now. Everyone, that is, except for Jess.

Soon the women's pitiful belongings were strewn on the ground. The princess was hiding her wealth well, Arshan thought. As expected, his men found nothing.

Pandora was standing, feeling dizzy with a sense of unreality. Her eyes were frantically searching for Jess's sword and the men's money.

"I carry a dagger for personal protection, but don't even own a sword," Jess was confessing a bit shamefacedly. "How on earth could I use one?" She giggled a little at the thought.

Pandora glared at her.

"My Lady, I offer you an apology."

He gave a sharp command and Pandora was impressed with the speed and efficiency with which the men could repack their camels. Herdsmen certainly knew a lot about packing.

"My Lady, I would wish to invite you to our camp, but we are in mourning. The very least I can do is to loan you four of my men to accompany you part of your way."

Pandora was desperately mouthing 'nooo!'

"My Lord, I will gladly accept!" Jess said. "It will make us feel much safer with murderers on the loose. No one can say the courtesy of your house is diminished. Please accept this small gift as a token of my friendship."

She gave him a gold ring. Arshan's eyes sparkled as he took it.

He held up his hand. Jess and Pandora both kneeled and bowed their heads to receive the very special Mazdayasna (Zoroastrian) blessing that Arshan (as a Pir (elder)) was entrusted to give.

"May Aka Mana, the single and the only uncreated God, watch over you. May you bask in his brilliance and may he keep you from all evil."

When Pandora had a chance to whisper, she fixed Jess with an incredulous sideways glance. "'It will make us feel so much safer!' Having his men escorting us?"

Jess chuckled. "Assume each of these men speaks fluent Greek, unlikely though that would be. We couldn't be any safer, being escorted by his men."

"Where's the sword?" Pandora hissed softly.

"The murder weapon with everyone's blood on it?" Jess looked surprised. "Perhaps I should have hung it around my neck for all to see. If they want to find it, they will have to dive for it. Besides, what good is it to me? Don't forget I can't use a sword." Jess looked smug.

"Are you a princess?"

Jess just looked amused. "I was fostered by a king and a queen. They trained me to be an assassin and a spy. Before I was able to enter their service, they were killed." A look of pain passed over her face. "Then their enemies came for me. It saved me the trouble of having to find them."

"Jess, I'm sorry about your family." She smiled. "But can I call you 'Princess' sometimes?"

Jess stuck out her tongue.

"How did you get all that money?" Pandora was astounded.

"I met up with several bands of bandits in the desert. I guess I must seem an easy target."

"You stole from bandits?"

"Shhh! No, I didn't steal. They had no further use for it."

"Did you throw the other gold away?"

Jess managed to look deeply offended.

"I'll tell you later. Now hush for the sake of all the Gods! Don't you ever stop talking?"

One of the men walked up to the second camel. He introduced himself to it and whistled; it knelt and then sat.

"I think that's your ride, Pandora," Jess laughed.

Pandora climbed on gingerly with help from the man. The saddle was comfortable enough though it butted against some of the sacks of barley hung off the Bactrian camel's second hump.

Jess called out. "Hang on before ..."

It was too late.

The camel lurched back and forward. It kicked its back legs up first and then rocked forwards and then back to stand up.

Pandora was almost thrown off, face forward onto the sand.

Jess bent over laughing.

She broke a long stick off a dead saxaul bush and came to the front of her own camel and jerked its reins once. It obediently sat for her. Then she hitched her dress and climbed on with a practiced movement.

She gently tapped the sides of her camel for it to stand.

"That's how you are supposed to do it," she called out.

Pandora glared at her and almost missed a handhold as her camel adjusted its stance.

The men roped the three camels together, Jess in the lead, Pandora second.

"It's hardly needed," Jess called out to Pandora. "The camels think I'm an alpha camel."

"You certainly look like one."

"Hold on," Jess called a warning as the camels took off.

One of the men stayed to pack the tent; he would easily catch up.

From time-to-time Jess would glance back at her friend and start laughing again Pandora's camel was surging back and forwards like a boat in the surf.

"Relax your body! Don't fight it like that!"

Then she would burst out laughing again

She heard the men shouting something to Pandora and laughing ... giving her advice and encouragement, no doubt.

They didn't go very far that day and they had several rest breaks.

The men didn't need to be told Pandora would be very sore. When they stopped and the camel settled to kneel, Jess had to lift her bodily off. She could only get Pandora to stagger a few steps before she slipped to the ground.

"I'm dying."

She was instantly asleep. Jess smiled down at her fondly and fetched a blanket.

The men looked uncertainly at Jess and her moribund servant. A female would be expected to cook, but they knew Jess was more than she seemed.

Jess gestured ruefully at Pandora and then solved their problem by going to gather dry brush for a fire. She made a pot of tea and squatted in front of each of the men in turn to serve them.

One of the men unwrapped palm-leaf packets containing fresh chicken, lamb, and small wooden skewers. Well, that was easy enough. Jess removed her glove and sliced the meat.

The man helped her skewer it and added spices he had in another packet. He was probably the usual cook.

This campsite had been used before and she rolled a fire-blackened stone with a flat top against the fire to heat its flat surface bread making.

Her fellow cook brought out vegetables, water, what looked like dried chick peas and dried yoghurt. Jess smiled broadly and shrugged. This caused great hilarity amongst the men. The same man showed her in a laborious fashion with lots of gestures how to make porridge with the chick peas and add spices, salted yoghurt and vegetables.

Once the meat was cooked it was slid off the skewers and combined with the porridge and vegetables and then wrapped in unleavened bread. They insisted she try the first one with the men watching her face intently. It was absolutely delicious! Her face said it all and the men laughed with delight.

Her mouth was watering for more, but she served the men first. She anxiously watched their faces, only relaxing as they all broke into broad smiles and made appreciative noises.

After that, she made more tea and then turned to the left overs. The men had considerately left more than enough for her and Pandora, but just in case, she made some more bread.

The crisis of the evening meal averted, Jess went to wake Pandora and feed her. She could only get her half awake and she kept falling asleep. She carried her a short distance and propped her up against one of the sitting camels and poured a little water over her face.

"You know I hate you, don't you?" Pandora said with her eyes closed.

"Of course, you do," Jess said cheerfully. "But I won't let you sleep until you have eaten something."

Pandora started to chew but fell asleep while eating. After the second attempt, Jess gave up. She forced her to drink some water and then lay her down gently.

Her assistant cook walked over. "Servant?"

Jess understood the word, and made a wry face. He walked back, laughing.

The remainder of meat, bread and vegetables was wrapped in more palm leaves and then a cloth. The chick pea porridge went into a pot with its lid tied strongly on with string and wrapped securely in cloth.

Jess drank tea and sat for a while with the men to be courteous. There was a lot of miming, smiles and charades. Between the men there was a great deal of laughing and excited talk. Jess wondered if these heavily armed men would laugh after they killed her and Pandora if they ever found out about them.

Probably.

She smiled back at them in appreciation of the thought.

After a decent period she decided to leave the men to their fire. It was expected that she would join them briefly at the time of the meal, after which women and children would retire to allow the men to talk.

One of the men had set up the tent and Pandora was carried in by the simple method of rolling her onto a blanket and then lifting with a man at either end. She didn't even wake.

Pandora had made promises of what they could do this evening. Jess smiled wryly at the figure of her friend in the darkness.

Not tonight.

 

Chapter 4: Kynane

 

 

After Chalkedon, the main road east leads to Libyssa, a port city on the northern shore of the Propontis. After Libyssa it becomes a single road which, after a gentle descent, follows the coastal route all the way to Astakos. Between Libyssa and Astakos there is little local traffic. The coastal strip there is narrow and deserted of settlements. It has several places that are ideal for an ambush.

The men had chosen a small ravine where the road descended to the coast. It had been formed by a modest stream flowing to the sea. If their quarry escaped the first trap earlier on the road, she would flee this way.

What the men didn't know was that they themselves were being watched. Four women and a man had been tracking them for days now. At a nod from the man, the five of them drew back to talk.

"What is it you see, sister?" the man murmured to Anastasia.

The tawny haired girl smiled, she was their best scout. She drew a small map in the dirt.

"Master, as the road descends, they have set five archers on each side overlooking the road below." She pointed on the map. "The main force is made up of twenty riders hidden at the bottom, near the exit. While they may be dressed and armed like Kimmerioi, Kimmerioi they are not.

"They are relaxed, laughing and joking, so I think there is a main trap to the west and these men are here just in case of an escape this way. If their prey comes this way, they will likely have others chasing them, preventing a retreat. It will form a neat trap."

"Very good," the master nodded. "They are not Kimmerioi. How did you guess?"

Anastasia, whose name means 'survivor', smiled at the compliment.

"Kimmerioi raid villages, not set traps. These men know the location too well and are too confident of the path of their quarry. This area is deep in Makedonían Bithynia. These men will be Makedónes in disguise. It is one of the endless Makedóne murders. I wonder who the intended victim is."

"Nonetheless, it is not our fight," their master said firmly. "Thirty here and however many are driving the quarry this way. We will watch only."

* * *

Kynane

They had pushed their mounts to the limit.

She paused to give them a moment's rest near a solitary pine tree. Just ahead the road entered a ravine as it descended to the thin coastal strip. There was a channel made from the local grey stone for a stream that flowed down on the left-hand-side.

It was a clear day and the water of the Propontis showed as a wonderful blue in the distance. The grass and forest was already green and lush with the autumn rains, obscuring the twisting ravine and the heights flanking it, making it look overgrown ... and dangerous.

"What do you think might be waiting down that ravine?" Kynane asked Cadmus. "Do you think they would go to all this trouble and not have a plan in case we escaped the first trap?"

"It's you they are after," Cadmus, the leader of her body guard, agreed.

Their enemies were dressed as Kimmerioi, but they had spare horses and they pursued them as if for a vendetta. It was Kynane they were after.

"Well, it's not for ransom." Kynane smiled without humour. "Can you see Aléxandros paying anything for his beloved half-sister, except of course to have me murdered?"

Kynane was with the army near the Istros (Danube) when Aristoteles had brought the news. Her mother, Audata, was dead and it was said to be an accident.

Aristoteles suggested she flee to Astakos, where her mother's oldest friend was the military governor. He had arranged passage to Chalkedon for her and the few countrymen who would accompany her.

But Aristoteles had proven not to be the friend she believed him to be. Before they reached the port city of Libyssa, men were waiting. Only a charge by Kynane had allowed the four of them to escape.

Audata, Philippos's second wife, had been his favourite before Olympias. She was an Illyrian warrior-princess and the granddaughter of King Bardyllis. It was she who had trained Kynane, her only child. Mother and daughter had fought in the army with Phílippos.

It was their widespread popularity with the army, especially amongst the older soldiers, and their lack of interest in court politics that had kept them alive during the bloodletting that followed the old king's death but Olympias had not forgotten them. She was just bidding her time.

Ten men dressed as Kimmerioi broke cover not far behind. They were galloping hard on fresh mounts. Their leader gave a whoop of triumph.

"My Lady," Amorantos shouted. "Ride on, we will delay them."

"I'll never run from a fight!" Kynane wheeled to face her adversaries. "If I'm to die, I will die facing my enemies."

Her mare, scenting a fight, began prancing in anticipation. Their pursuers were almost upon them but when Kynane and her three companions charged back at them, it caught them off guard.

Cadmus gave a great war-cry and charged straight for three of the riders. He threw the last of his throwing spears and drew his sword. But as he killed the second man, the third stabbed him hard in the back. He tried to turn his horse to fight the last man, but he was losing strength, his vision darkening.

* * *

"Master!" Anastasia whispered excitedly. "See, the men who are being hunted have woollen leggings. They are Illyroi. The one in the middle is a woman. She wears a breast plate and a long dark dress. See the purple horsehair crest on her helmet? She is an Illyrian warrior-princess."

Anastasia, tawny haired and freckled, was born in Illyria and had the keenest eyes of any of them.

The man looked back at his women, and for the first time, he felt fear. He trained them and they would accept him as their leader in an instant, but he had refused to command them in all matters outside their training. But having set the women up this way and repeatedly insisted on it, he had created a sword for himself and now maybe it would cut him.

"What is it that you wish?" he asked them softly.

They looked back at him excitedly.

Thaïs grinned. "She is the enemy of the Makedónes. We have a truce with them, but how long do you think that will last? You train us endlessly. Here is our chance to put our skills to the test.

"I say we help her."

Eirene, the eldest and their leader in many other things, nodded, but she looked grimmer than her younger sisters. "This is murder and you know it. While they are distracted, I say we do what we can. We are a weapon. You cannot sharpen a weapon endlessly and never use it. You will only spoil it."

"I can't watch someone being murdered and not at least try to help," Alba, the second eldest, agreed.

The man nodded slowly. They grinned back at him, excited and yet frightened now.

"We will do this properly. If it goes badly and I say run, you will run and no argument. I will deal with the archers on this side first. Cover them in case any become alerted."

The women moved forward and got ready, but the archers were intent on the distant fighting and the master made no sound.

* * *

Kleandros, the leader of the Makedóne soldiers, waited impatiently at the end of the ravine. His horse, sensing his mood, was restless. A Makedonían lord, Archelaos waited nearby but behind cover.

None of the men had seen a large figure behind them, crouched low as it crossed from one side of the ravine to the other. They were all too focused on the Illyroi who had turned to attack their pursuers. Kleandros decided to leave nothing to chance.

"Dimoerites (Corporal) take your squad and see that none escape. It seems our little ambush will not be needed."

The corporal called to seven of the men, smiling with anticipation.

"Come on! Let's show these Illyrians how real men fight."

He kicked his horse, which leapt forward. As they kicked their horses up the ravine towards its entrance, Eirene hissed, "now!"

The four women released their arrows and, as one, they snatched for another. Two men shrieked as they fell; another seemed to struggle to keep control of his horse for a moment before falling off, an arrow in his chest. The corporal seemed to pause and then tiredly slump over his mount.

The remainder riders milled in confusion. One shouted out, "Don't shoot, it's us!"

Three more arrows found their targets. The last horseman threw himself off into the shelter of a nearby horse and scurried for cover as an arrow whizzed past his shoulder.

"Strangers! They have killed our men!" Kleandros shouted, pointing to the ridge. "Get up there and kill them. I can't see them now, but I think there are only four of them."

His remaining nine men jumped off their horses and began scrambling up the hill.

While climbing they couldn't manage their shields and weapons and, near the top, their leader fell with an arrow in his chest.

The other men had gained the top and snatched their shields from their backs. They remained under cover and cautiously looked around. They could see nothing. The place was uneven, crossed with gullies, grass and shrubs. It seemed deserted.

"We need to find them!" Orestes, the surviving corporal, shouted.

He sent four men angling inland and led the three others along the ridge to search for their own archers. They moved along a shallow ravine, nervously eyeing the dense shrubs and uneven ground, crouched low with their shields high.

Orestes found the first of the Makedóne archers. His throat was cut.

"This happened silently," he said with growing fear. "We will find the others the same. Five men close to each other in the bush, all are killed without a sound. Four bowmen appear incredibly fast and accurate. It's elves! We are dead men."

"How many do you think, Kyrie (sir)?" Alketas asked. He was the youngest of the men, barely more than a boy.

"I think five, maybe more," Orestes said. "It would take one of them to kill the men and the four archers to cover him. He must have crossed to the other side to deal with our men there."

"One elf against ten men?" Alketas asked, incredulous.

"Confident bastards, aren't they?" Orestes said bitterly. "I think I'd better call the others back. We stand a better chance if we stay together."

Just then there were sounds of screams and a man shouting.

"Dimoerites!" a man called out. "Hesiodos is dead and they have shot Iason."

"Leave Iason, it's elves!"

There were sounds of two men crashing through the bush. Alketas, the youngest, stood up to call them over.

"Get down!" The corporal reached up to pull the boy down.

There was a thud. The corporal grunted, dropping to his knees, an arrow in his chest.

The two men burst out of cover, running as fast as they could; an arrow caught one in the back and he slid on his front and lay still. His companion hesitated and caught an arrow. They could hear Iason crying and begging for help. Then his cries suddenly stopped.

The three remaining men sprang up to make a run for it. Almost immediately two were killed. The last threw down his shield.

"Will you allow surrender?"

He felt something punch him hard in his chest.

From somewhere behind the bushes he heard a woman's voice. "I am sorry."

It was the last sound he heard.

* * *

Kynane

Kynane and Amorantos grinned at each other.

All their friends were dead. They had killed all their pursuers except two who now hung back. There were riderless horses everywhere.

"Unless I miss my guess, my princess, they will have an ambush waiting ahead," Amorantos said. "I am good in the forest. If we go on foot we might be able to follow this stream back up into the hills. We can live through this yet."

Kynane smiled at him tiredly. "Save yourself, Amorantos. I could not have asked for a better man or a better friend."

He looked at her sharply. "You're hurt!" He leapt off his horse to quickly help her down. Her right hand was pressed to her shoulder. Her shield fell to the ground as her left side lost its strength.

"Damn!" she cursed, laughing a little.

Kynane allowed him to bind her shoulder as tight as he could, but by the time he had finished she had no use of her left arm. The blood immediately stained the cloth. She was bleeding heavily.

She insisted he lift her back on her horse.

"Now go, you fool!"

He saluted her with his sword and then kicked his horse to the last gallop it had in it. But instead he turned his horse to the last of their pursuers.

"You always were such a fool," Kynane whispered, shaking her head fondly.

She patted her big horse. "Come on Harmonia, there are some men waiting for me. Let's see if I can take one of them with me before my strength fails. It's not very far, girl. At least it better not be."

She sheathed her sword. Her throwing spears were gone. She had lost her shield. She loosened one of the two Illyrian throwing axes at the back of her belt.

"I wonder if they know about these," she whispered with the ghost of a smile, and nudged her horse. If only she could stay in the saddle a little longer ...

When she glanced back, she could see more riderless horses, but no sign of Amorantos or their pursuers. She was alone now, at least for the moment.

By the time she got to the entrance to the pass, she felt faint and her mind had slowed. She couldn't understand what she saw. There were bodies of men dressed as Kimmerioi lying all around, arrows protruding out of them. A riderless horse galloped past.

One that was not dead leapt up to grab her horse. She brought her arm behind her and untwisted her body as she threw. She would lose precision but she needed the extra power. Throwing axes are designed to tumble once between being thrown and hitting the target. They require a lot of skill but she had thrown them since she was a little girl.

The man screamed as he died, the axe slicing into his collar-bone and nearby arteries.

She felt as if she was struck by lightning. Her vision darkened. When her head cleared she saw Archelaos sitting his horse, his bow in his hand, at a careful distance from her.

"How much did they pay you?"

"They were generous," Archelaos admitted.

Kynane was having trouble staying on her horse. "If you had hoped for some fun first, I'm sorry I will have to disappoint you."

Archelaos nodded in acknowledgement, but he still would not come closer. He knew about her throwing axes. You needn't worry, Archelaos, Kynane thought, anything more is beyond me.

He took careful aim. Kynane braced herself and heard rather than felt the thud of the arrow.

She looked at him in shock and outrage. He had targeted her horse! She began to curse him weakly and monotonously. Harmonia swayed and then fell. Kynane cried out in agony as she felt her leg snap under the animal. The horse struggled to rise before falling back. It felt like her leg was bathed in molten metal. She must have blacked out.

She woke to agony and wave after wave of dizziness. Archelaos had dismounted and was looking down at her as she lay sweating and panting, trapped by the dead horse.

"You never knew I really loved you, did you, Kynane? All those years ... I only wanted you to notice me. But you always thought you were too good for me, didn't you?"

"If this is because you love me, you have a strange way of showing it." She panted as she screwed her face up in agony. She felt cold from loss of blood. "You cannot blame me for what I never knew. You also should know about princesses. My views on whom I bed were unimportant. I was property; firstly of my father, then of my brother Aléxandros."

That is, until Olympias remembered her grudge against my mother.

"You only needed to convince one of them if you wished to possess me. I would not have been unwilling with you, Archelaos. I had always thought of you as a friend. It was all I could ever offer any man."

Archelaos looked at her in complete surprise.

Then his gaze shifted down to the arrow head sticking out of the centre of his chest.

He coughed once and dropped to his knees and slumped forward.

A woman's face appeared, looking down at her.

"Who?" was all Kynane managed.

A giant of a man was approaching at a half run, staggering with the weight of a great boulder.

Kynane could only whisper. "If you want to kill me with that, you had better hurry."

As he threw it, she flinched but it landed to her side. The man pushed at it with his heel, hard up against her dead horse.

Another woman rushed up to him with an armful of spears and they began working a row of them in haste, between the rock and the dead horse.

"Her war horse is huge. It can't be much less than three quarters of a ton," the man shouted. "We have to move quickly. We will only get one go at this! Be careful with her arm."

Kynane felt four strong arms grab her and the giant heaved. He screamed out with the effort. It was a mercy that she blacked out again

When she returned to consciousness, a fire had been lit and only one of the women and the man remained. They had bathed her wounds and were cleaning and stitching her shoulder.

The tawny haired woman paused and smiled to see her conscious.

"Princess," she said.

She had a pleasant musical voice, with an Illyrian accent. Somehow Kynane was amongst friends. "You are awake. If you are in pain, we can give you some herbs."

Kynane gritted her teeth and shook her head.

"I am sister Anastasia," the woman continued as she lifted Kynane's head to feed her a mouthful of water. "I am a Shayvist, as you may have guessed. This man is the teacher of our female order but I was of the Dardanioi tribe in Illyria, the same as you."

Kynane gripped at her hand in wordless gratitude.

So, she had been rescued by initiates of the new female Shayvist order.

Everyone called them Amazónes.

"My arm," she asked. "Will it be saved?"

"Of course, Princess," Anastasia said confidently. "We are almost finished."

She knew Kynane couldn't see her leg. It was just as well. The bleeding from the leg was not as dangerous, but the leg had been crushed and broken in more than one place. It was befouled by dirt and manure from her dying horse. Her shin bone was poking through the skin.

Kynane was no fool. While the eventual outcome for her arm depended on whether infection set in, one thing was obvious. "You cannot save my leg."

A handsome bearded face appeared over Anastasia's shoulder. "I haven't turned to your leg yet. We had to attend to your arm first. You were losing too much blood. I had to seal the artery."

Kynane looked at him in amazement. Repair an artery? She had never heard of such a thing.

But the leg ... she grabbed at his arm desperately.

"Thank you, stranger! But please help me. Please take my leg! I lose my leg or I lose my life. You understand that, don't you?"

The big stranger merely smiled gently.

"You will have to trust me, Kynane. I have some skill in healing."

He was a Shantawi, Kynane realised, taking in his darker skin and distinctive clothes. That would explain the connection with the Shayvist order.

"Please," she said faintly as she drifted off.

If they didn't cut off her leg, she was a dead woman.

* * *

Kynane

She slowly came back to herself.

They were alone in a cave the size of a small house. Some light was filtering in and from a crevice she could hear the drip of water.

Her mouth was dry and tasted foul. Strong hands lifted her up and held a cup to her lips. She drank thirstily but had to pause several times to get her breath.

"Stop!" The man laughed. "I'll give you more soon, but not too much at once. Do you need to relieve yourself?"

Kynane nodded. She was big for a woman, six foot and big boned, but she felt herself lifted as easily as a small child, and carried over to a patch of sand. He squatted, holding her by her back and resting her remaining leg over his thigh.

He didn't expect her to relieve herself as he held her, did he?

It was about then she realised she was naked and being clutched against the man's heavily muscled chest. He had a pleasant man smell. She was totally helpless, but she felt safe. She had not felt truly safe since the death of her father.

He was murmuring, "Relax, Kynane. Relax."

Her eyes felt so heavy, She didn't remember relaxing her sphincter but she felt a gush of water from her bladder.

I'm as weak as a kitten and as helpless as a baby, she said to herself as she started to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When Kynane next woke it was night time.

A small fire had been lit and she could smell some broth cooking in a large pot. It was just her and the big man. It seemed that he was the one elected to nurse her. That was strange, a male nurse, especially to look after a woman, especially when women were around, but some men studied the healing arts. This man would be some sort of monk.

"Good! You are awake." He had such a kindly smile. "I will give you some water and then you must have some of this broth. It is very good. My wife taught me how to make it. "

"You are married?" Kynane asked, surprised. "I thought you Shayvists didn't marry."

"Some of us marry, though most don't." His face was a mask of remembered pain. "My wife is dead."

"I'm so sorry ... I don't even know your name."

"No, you don't." His smile robbed his words of offence.

"And you're not going to tell me," she said with a wry smile. "Nor I suppose will you tell me where we are."

He gestured apologetically. "This place is too useful for us to give its secrets away. But you are safe; we won't hurt you."

"If you wanted to hurt me, there is no way I could stop you." Kynane laughed.

She knew she was safe with this strange man. It felt so good to be able to relax her guard and be cared for after so many years of living in constant danger. Soon she was being lifted up in strong arms and given water.

"Can I hold the cup?" she asked.

"It is good to see you getting stronger," the man said with evident satisfaction.

"What?" she said with droll humour. "Now I can hold my own cup, Why, soon I will be so incredibly powerful that I might be able to feed myself with a spoon. Where are the two women?"

"There were four. One has returned to our home. The other three hunt and stand guard. There are several large bands of men combing the land for you. Someone really wants you dead, Kynane. But don't worry, this place is well hidden."

"How long do we stay here?" Kynane asked.

"As long as we need to; it is not safe to leave and you are not able to ride."

"You will stay with me in this cave all that time? Am I your prisoner?"

"Kynane, no. I will use a blindfold when we leave, but then you are free to go your separate way. I suggest you allow us to take you to the Troad, where we can keep you safe and give you time to heal."

"Thank you, I will go with you. Perhaps I can learn to fight again"

"Your leg?" he asked. "It's healing nicely."

"It feels as if it's still there. It's hurting and itching like crazy!"

He looked at her in surprise and then laughed.

"I've just finished bandaging the stump, but we should check what the problem is."

He carried her over to prop her against the rock wall. She felt him expertly undoing the bandage under her blanket. It seemed to be taking a long time for a stump. He must have wrapped it heavily.

"It's a bit of a shock at first, I'm afraid. Are you sure you are ready for it?"

Kynane looked at him steadily. "I am an Illyrian warrior-princess. My great grandfather was King Bardyllis. Show me!"

"I tried to warn you. It's not pretty for a woman to see!"

He whipped the blanket off her right leg, trying not to expose her nakedness too much.

Kynane stared at her leg in shock. A total sense of unreality overcame her. This was a dream!

Her thigh and leg had set straight. She had ugly red scars where the wounds should have been. Otherwise, it was completely intact!

The man had collapsed with laughter and was rolling on the ground. He was beside himself with mirth.

Very funny!

Then she chuckled despite herself. His amusement was infectious.

Eventually the two of them were laughing together.

"I'm sorry, Kynane, I couldn't resist," The man chuckled.

She smiled at him. Something told Kynane this man did not laugh very often since his wife died.

"Well, I can hardly claim disappointment," she chuckled. "But you are not as clever as you think, Hakeem. The healing touch; only one man I know of could have done all that you have done. I owe you my life and more. I was sorry to hear what happened to Elena and Jacinta. We found ourselves on opposing sides for a good while, but I think they fought for all women. I heard you were finished after that, is that when you became a monk?"

"I never stopped being a monk. I might explain paladins to you one day," Hakeem said, still smiling. "I am still the Warlord of the Shantawi, but Anatolē and the elves can manage better without a Warlord, despite what they think. If they really need me again, I will be there."

Then he lost his smile.

"Kynane, if I said it was hard for me when my wife and daughter were killed, it would be a niggardly description. It feels as if my heart stopped beating that day. I felt my God had deserted me. Going on has been the hardest thing I have ever done."

"Was it for Jacinta that you took up the training of the Amazónes?" Kynane asked.

"I don't exactly know how that happened," Hakeem answered. "I have a small estate in the Troad and spend most of my time there. After Jacinta was killed, the Amazónes collapsed. Some of them turned up at my gates and then the word got around and more came. Men had turned up for me to train too, including some of those sworn to me. But I sent them elsewhere.

"The women, though, they didn't really have anywhere else. The best they could hope for was being split up and scattered over several of the chapter houses — there were too many for one. And they simply couldn't get the sort of training that only I could give.

"Since then, others have come, not all of them Amazónes. Mostly they are women and a few children out of need, some out of love for what I once was. With so many women surrounding me, I have become the most hen-pecked man in all Anatolē." He gave a wan smile. "Having people depending on me gives me some semblance of life."

"Surrounded by all those women, did you never take another woman?" Kynane asked softly.

"Kynane," he sighed. "I can never love another. If you had ever met Elena, you would understand."

"Oh," was all Kynane could say.

Hakeem looked so sad, so heartbroken, Kynane's heart went out to him.

"Please sit with me," she asked huskily.

The big man moved over to sit down next to her. He had not been able to say this to anyone else. There was something about Kynane that allowed him to share his deepest feelings with her. He took her hand.

"Thank you, Kynane," he whispered.

But she was already asleep.

* * *

Outside a bird called.

Hakeem went to the entrance to the cave and mimicked the call.

Anastasia's head appeared at the mouth of the cave followed by the freshly dressed deer across her shoulders as she climbed up. As she eased the deer down she saw Kynane lying propped up against the corner of the cave and smiled broadly. It was the first time that Kynane had been able to sit up for any time, let alone stay awake.

"My Princess, it does me good to see you are recovering."

"Just Kynane." Kynane smiled back. "I am no longer welcome in any land that would call me princess. Aléxandros would not welcome me back except to kill me, and the last time I visited Illyria, I killed my aunt, Queen Kaeria, in single combat.

"You are Anastasia, are you not? I owe my life to all of you people, but especially you."

"Tales of your mother and grandmother were why I wished to train as a female warrior," Anastasia said. "I have brought some clothes for you. It's our field clothes in your size. Your dress was completely ruined, I'm afraid."

"Well, I'll try not to bleed all over these then," Kynane said with a chuckle. "It's been awkward sharing a cave with this handsome leader of yours and only blankets to hide my nakedness."

Hakeem laughed, "It's been a long time for me too, sharing my quarters with a beautiful naked lady. I don't know how interesting you found me. Every time I started to talk to you, you fell asleep."

"Perhaps you should give me another chance at sleeping in your quarters." Kynane smiled. "Try to choose a time when my family and childhood friends haven't cut me up into small pieces for dog meat."

"It seems like we might have a chance to get better acquainted, Kynane," Hakeem laughed, "Everyone else seems to want to kill you. I don't fully wonder now that I have had your company these last few days!"

"Hakeem!" Kynane returned with mock outrage. "You are used to bullying these poor young girls who are sworn to obey you. You are not used to having someone around who is at least your equal and most likely your better. Your girls should be thankful I have shown up to keep you in line!"

Hakeem laughed. "I don't bully you, do I, Anastasia?"

"Yes, you do!" Anastasia laughed back. "You beat us!"

"Hakeem?" Kynane held up the clothes she had been given. "Do you have to dress all your women as men?"

Anastasia broke into giggles at the thought. Their clothes were modelled after elvish scouts and were chosen by Jacinta, not Hakeem.

"I suppose in Illyria you usually crawl through the woods in a formal gown?" Hakeem countered.

"At least I wouldn't be mistaken for a man then!" Kynane replied, amused.

"Kynane," Hakeem let out a sigh, "I could never mistake you for a man, no matter how you were dressed."

"Why thank you, Hakeem!" Kynane replied, blushing.

Hakeem gave her a frank smile of appreciation. "Your tongue is far too sharp for a start! When are you going to show me how sharp your other weapons are?"

"I could do it now," Kynane suggested.

She looked pale and drained and suppressed a yawn.

"It's just that you are the only healer, so we wouldn't have anyone to patch you up."

She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

Hakeem was still chuckling and shaking his head in admiration. "What a woman!"

Anastasia tenderly stretched the blankets over Kynane and made her comfortable. She murmured in her sleep.

"The tradition of the female warrior is very strong in Illyrian royal women," Anastasia said. "She is used to travelling in an army of you men and well used to holding her own against you male bullies."

"And what about you female bullies?"

Anastasia dimpled prettily in return.

"Still, I hope she stays with us," Hakeem said thoughtfully. "She would be a wonderful addition to your training ... a true female warrior teaching you! And I long for her to show me how she fights."

* * *

Kynane limped restlessly back and forwards across the cave.

"I'm telling you I'm fit to ride."

Hakeem sat serenely sipping tea. He looked amused.

"Kynane, you are fit to ride when I say you are fit to ride."

Anastasia and Alba sat a little wide-eyed in the corner. They knew that tone. Hakeem didn't use it often, but when he did he always got his way. Maybe with Kynane though it would be different.

"I am grateful to you, Hakeem, but I refuse to be a burden."

"You refuse, do you?" Hakeem sounded surprised. "And why do I need your opinion?"

Kynane rounded on him in a fury. "How dare you speak to me thus?"

She was trembling with anger. She felt terribly hurt to be reminded of her fall in status. "Maybe I am not a princess any more but I have been a warrior since I was a child."

Hakeem held his hand up and spoke gently, "Kynane, I mean you no disrespect. Amongst the sisterhood and yes, with myself, you will find the name 'Kynane' is spoken with great respect. But I repeat the question. Who are you to insist? Did your healer say you were ready? I didn't hear him speak thus! And who will be the leader of our party, will it be you? Or is the great Kynane completely above following orders? If that is so, you are a danger to all who travel with you!"

Despite these harsh words he smiled gently at her, waiting.

Kynane let out the breath she was holding, ready to make a sharp reply. Her shoulders slumped, defeated. Hakeem seemed so kind and soft; even now his words were gentle.

"Kyrie (sir), I apologise!" she said, blushing deeply. "You must think of me as a silly woman. I will have to regain your trust that my foolish words have made me lose. Please don't think I will do anything but obey your orders without question."

She knew as she spoke these words that, like his Amazónes, she would follow this man into the pit of Tartaros (Hell) itself. Hakeem was so unlike any leader she had ever met, so soft and so soft-spoken, and yet she would die for him.

She fell to her knees before him.

"Hakeem, I hereby pledge you my service if you will have it. I will put none before you. By my living or by my dying I will serve you as long as I live."

"Kynane!" Hakeem was in shock. "There is no need for that!"

But Kynane simply waited, her head bowed.

Time started to pass.

"And I Hakeem hereby accept your oath, Kynane, warrior-princess of the Illyrians." He proclaimed loudly, "I will reward your service with my love, my respect and my loyalty in return."

Kynane had given Hakeem her personal oath, something an Illyrian princess would never do!

He stooped over and drew her to her feet.

"There was no need for that, Kynane," he said softly, "No need."

He hugged her and kissed her softly on the cheek. Kynane sighed as he hugged her.

She long remembered the feeling of his strong arms around her and her cheek kept tingling where he had kissed her.

* * *

Hakeem had gone to scout and had left Kynane in the company of one of the other Amazónes, Alba.

"And now, Lady, you see how he enslaves us all," Alba said, smiling.

"I never knew I was going to give him my personal pledge, until it happened," Kynane said in wonder at herself.

"And you'll never regret it!" Alba said with feeling.

Kynane smiled. "You feel it too? Do you find him as puzzling as I do?"

"My Lady, we all do. In my opinion he is the finest warrior there is. To understand him you need to understand that he lives and breathes his Shayvist beliefs. We Shayvists do not like killing, but to protect innocents we will kill without hesitation."

Kynane laughed, "Thank you, Alba, but I am hardly an innocent."

Alba smiled at Kynane's wry expression. "The manner of your death was little better than murder. Do you want me to continue explaining our leader, or do you want to debate whether the world would be a better place with or without Kynane in it."

Kynane laughed, "I'm sorry, please go on, Alba."

"Well," Alba continued, "underneath this, and not far underneath, Hakeem is very soft. He has a particular soft spot for women and children. The girls and I have found it simplicity itself to twist him around our fingers. But don't let that deceive you. When he says something about training or safety, he will expect to be obeyed without question. If there is time he may explain, but if he snaps an order in the middle of a dangerous situation, you had better jump and jump quickly."

"I think that's the mistake I made when I argued with him," Kynane admitted wryly. "Though never in my life have I been put back in my place in such a gentle way."

"Hakeem is very protective of any in his charge. We have told him he acts like a mother hen with us. He just laughs at us. Rescuing you was the first time he let any of us get involved in a real fight."

"And yet he led four inexperienced women against an ambush. All of my enemies killed and none of you even injured."

She paused. "He is very sad, isn't he?"

"My Lady, it breaks our hearts!"

Kynane thought of her father Philippos and his multiple wives. Could a man love a single woman so much?

"He must have really loved her."

Alba sighed and nodded.

"Alba?" Kynane asked with a secret smile to herself. "When we get to the Troad, will you and Anastasia help me get some nice dresses?"

Alba looked puzzled for a minute, and then her face lit up in delight. "You mean?"

Kynane nodded very determinedly. Alba laughed and hugged her.

"There have been so many women who have tried to catch Hakeem's eye, but he rarely even notices. I think most of us wouldn't mind if he showed more interest in us beyond being just his students. But he looks at you differently. I think we would be all happy to match him with someone nice," Alba said.

"I don't know if I would always be described as 'nice'." Kynane giggled.

Alba appraised her knew friend. She could hardly be described as pretty in any of the usual ways but she was a magnificent looking woman, tall and strong. She had an air about her of courage and intelligence.

"This will be a greatest pleasure, my Princess of Illyria!"

She made a mock bow and the women giggled to each other.

Women have their own way of hunting a man.

The prey may be unsuspecting, but he had certainly proven elusive before.

* * *

It was another week before Eirene returned from the Troad to help escort Kynane, and Hakeem pronounced her ready to ride.

Thaïs, Alba and Anastasia joined them in the cave, which made it very crowded.

"Your rescue really stirred up a hornet's nest," Eirene said. "They found your body guard and the men sent to kill you all dead. They found your dead horse with lots of blood stains around it but no body. They knew you were seriously hurt and, alive or dead, that you had been rescued. They suspect it was Makedónes. Just to keep them busy, we have been laying false trails."

"I would have liked to give you longer to rest, but interest has died down around here for the moment, so we should leave while we can," Hakeem said. "If we come across anything, I want you five to make a break for it."

"Hakeem, we can't do that!" Kynane said in anguish.

"What was that you said, Kynane?" Hakeem looked at Kynane coldly.

"Hakeem!" Eirene turned on him angrily. She was the oldest and tended to stand up to Hakeem more. "Don't be a bully. Just because she has sworn to obey you, doesn't mean you can be cruel. You know she's worried about you. Don't return her concern with scorn!"

Inwardly Kynane cringed. She expected Hakeem to explode in rage. Instead, he appeared chastened.

"Kynane, I apologise. Eirene is right. I need to know you will obey me in the middle of an emergency, but I didn't mean to be unkind. Through no fault of your own, it is you that is weak and vulnerable and must be protected.

"If I tell you to, I want you to flee. The others are going with you to protect you, nothing else. The sisters and I can melt into the forest, but you can't. They will not find me and they will not kill me. Many have tried in the past."

Kynane smiled her gratitude shyly. "Thank you for explaining, Hakeem, and yes, I would be worried for you."

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Now, do you want me to wear a blindfold?" Kynane asked.

Hakeem had forgotten the blindfold.

"No." He gave her that warm smile that made her feel tingly all over. "You are one of us now."

Alba handed Hakeem a heavy rope.

"Do we have to climb out?" Kynane asked.

"You don't," Hakeem replied pointedly. "I will lower you to where we will bring the horses."

"How did you get me into the cave?" she asked, surprised.

"Hakeem needed the exercise!" Eirene commented with a dry smile. 

 

 

Chapter 5: Bithynia, and an Old Friend

In the early part of the journey, Hakeem would not allow conversation except for the softest of whispers. The horses' gear was padded to minimise noise.

This was the most dangerous part of their journey. They were heading due east on one of the lesser roads just north of the usual coastal route to Astakos. It was a fertile and wealthy area and had a relatively large concentration of Makedóne military.

The mountain the Greeks called 'the Mysian Olympos' was several days' ride to the east and south. They would turn towards it once they had given Astakos a wide berth. At this time of the year the mountain passes were clear. They would be safe there and could make their way freely to Mysia.

The four women rode a little in front until they found an old trail, overgrown and not used for some time. Anastasia looked significantly at Hakeem, who nodded.

Anastasia turned her horse to disappear in a patch of forest. After a while they could hear the soft call of a bird. Alba answered it and made some curious hand movements to the others. Hakeem signalled with hand gestures and Alba, Thaïs and Eirene melted into the forest. Soon, only Kynane and Hakeem were left, seemingly to walk their horses leisurely down a deserted road.

Kynane had travelled with war bands since she was small but she had never seen anything of the like. Hakeem could seemingly wander through Bithynia undetected just on a training exercise for his Amazónes.

It made her wonder again why he had never attacked Makedonía in the turmoil following her father's death.

With hindsight it would have been a colossal blunder. Aléxandros had wasted no time in consolidating his position. An attack would have simply united all Makedonía behind him. But everyone expected Hakeem at least to attack Parmenion.

Parmenion almost fell off his battlements in surprise when Hakeem and a man called Apollo arrived at his gates offering a temporary truce and desperately needing supplies.

Hakeem must have known that when Aléxandros had once again united his kingdom, he would be facing a hostile force with a solid beach head. At the time everyone had believed him a fool. Only in retrospect had it worked out well when the Hun attacked both of them. Was it just luck?

She asked him about it.

"It's a very long story. I will tell you, but not while we are travelling." He smiled.

If Hakeem was worried about calmly walking their horses when the whole region was hunting her, he showed no sign of it. They were wandering along a small country road with meadows on either side and finally Kynane could no longer contain her curiosity and nudged her horse closer.

"Lord?" she whispered respectfully.

"Just Hakeem to you, Kynane," he murmured.

"Yes, Master," she replied with a small teasing smile. "I thought we were travelling in secret."

Hakeem looked at her. "We are."

"But," Kynane sputtered, "here we are ambling along in the open, exposed to any unfriendly eyes there might be around."

"Just you and me, Kynane; we have four others making sure no one takes undue interest in us. I doubt you can see her and for the God's sake don't look now, but Alba is hidden behind that stand of trees in front and to the right.

"Eirene was in sight just a minute ago on the ridge on the left. I sometimes suspect Anastasia is half-elf, but anyway she and Thaïs are ranging ahead. In a way, you and I are the bait. But in truth, I don't expect even a spy who sees us will think much of it."

"What would you do if you are discovered?" Kynane asked.

"Then we will see. We can run, hide or fight." Hakeem chuckled.

Kynane looked at him, completely perplexed.

"You could have taken all this land and yet you didn't."

He spoke patiently. "Kynane, you have asked this before. I told you it was a long story and there is much in the telling. I will tell you, I promise, just not here and not now."

"Yes, Master. I apologise, Master," Kynane said humbly.

"Kynane, please don't call me that. You are a princess of both Illyria and Makedonía! I was a peasant and an orphan." He paused. "Frankly, I didn't know what to do when you pledged your allegiance. I was overwhelmed."

Kynane had noticed his hesitation at the time but didn't know why. She thought for a moment he would refuse.

"Please just call me Hakeem," he continued. "I am still the Warlord of the Shantawi, which doesn't really mean a lot in a time of peace. Around here I am only a modest noble in my own right."

"Yes, Lord," Kynane said with the ghost of a smile.

Hakeem made a strangled noise.

"We are in danger yet you put us in plain view. Why don't we hide, Lord?"

"Think, Kynane." Hakeem looked at her earnestly. "The best place to hide something is in plain sight. We are not a war band. We are a man and his wife going about our lawful business without a care in the world. If we were slinking around in the shadows, then it would look suspicious."

Kynane blushed, "could you think of me as your wife, Hakeem?"

Hakeem sighed, "I meant that as an example, but I'll not lie to you. Second only to Elena you are the most attractive and fascinating woman I have ever met."

"What makes you say that, Hakeem?" Kynane murmured.

Yes please! Tell me more!

"Why, you are in your own right an accomplished warrior. You have a very sharp mind. I don't know anyone I have ever found it easier to talk to."

Kynane pretended outrage. "Those are the qualities you might find in a man. Is that how you think of me, Hakeem? Don't you even notice I'm a woman? I admit I'm not pretty, like some tiny maiden."

Hakeem laughed, "There is no doubt at all that you are a woman. Pretty is not the word, perhaps ... can a woman be described as handsome? You are magnificent! If I had never met Elena, I would be proud and happy if you agreed to be my wife," he finished with feeling.

Kynane felt breathless as she stared into his smile and felt his closeness.

"I don't think I will ever marry again," he said sadly.

For a fleeting moment Hakeem's face was a mask of pain. "Something is dead inside me."

He shook himself as if to banish a painful memory.

"Kynane," he added, "I am proud and happy that you are joining us. You will be a great boon to the training of the sisterhood. After that, I will introduce you to the leaders of Troia. I have no doubt you will be flooded with marriage proposals till you can't even move. You will find a man worthy of even one such as you. I would be very proud to stand as your family in any negotiation should you ask."

Kynane nodded, but she turned away. It was as if he had stabbed her in the heart.

"That is not needed," she whispered faintly to herself. "I already have found someone, but how can I compete with a dead woman?"

* * *

They had been travelling for three days.

Kynane never uttered a word of complaint, but despite the easy pace they were making, she grew more and more exhausted. At the end of each day she was grey with fatigue and ached all over.

She couldn't understand it.

She should be able to ride hard all day and still be ready to fight. Admittedly, she had been injured — her leg and arm were still giving her some trouble — but why was she so tired?

Hakeem watched her with concern. They were a day's ride from the start of a mountain trail but at this rate Kynane would never make it over the mountains. He reluctantly decided to change their route; it would leave them in danger longer, but he had little choice.

"About time!" hissed Eirene angrily.

Hakeem had healed her from a life-threatening wound before.

She well knew the months of crippling fatigue that followed being 'healed' by Hakeem.

"The poor girl never complains, but is about to collapse every night. Unless she gets some rest soon, it will take forever to regain her strength, if she ever does. You should never have taken her on a journey so soon! But where can we go now?"

Hakeem didn't like the answer.

He had met Omphale at the start of his first campaign in Bithynia. The Makedónes had burnt her village, slaughtered her family and taken her and the few survivors as slaves. At that time, Hakeem had taught the invaders the start of what became a series of bitter lessons. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring his troubles on to her, but what choice was there?

"I know a place."

* * *

Hakeem's scouts had warned Omphale of Hakeem's approach, but it was almost night time when Hakeem led his and Kynane's horse towards the small collection of huts. Kynane had already collapsed.

Outside he was met by Omphale. "So, you bring that devil spawn here?"

But she cried out when she saw Kynane pale and unconscious, slumped over her horse.

"What have you done to her, you great big brute? Quickly, bring her in and lay her on my bed."

Kynane didn't even wake as he carried her in, a limp burden. Hakeem looked at her as he laid her down. His forehead was furrowed with concern.

There was only one room in the hut, so Hakeem kept his voice low. "I shouldn't have made her travel so soon; she was almost killed by her family, but there was little choice."

Then he hugged Omphale, and kissed her cheek. He held her back to inspect her.

"Lady, you are more beautiful every time I see you."

Omphale punched his chest affectionately. "Liar!"

She was not old, but life had aged her before her time.

"The grief has not left me, I don't think it ever will, but it has eased. I didn't think I would ever say it again, but I am content. Many of the young ones treat me as their own mother with their parents killed, and they are starting to get married and have their own babies." She paused. "You never came back after Elena and Jacinta died."

Hakeem looked away for a few moments, his body stiff with pain. When he looked back, she was shocked to see tears running down the big man's cheeks.

"Omphale, how did you ever keep going? How can I keep going?"

"Hakeem, you put one foot in front of the other, you breathe in and out. And then you do it again and then over again" Omphale put her hand on his shoulder.

Hakeem had always been so strong. As a warrior he sometimes seemed cold, but that had never fooled her.

"I love those around me, I must do," Hakeem said. "I would move heaven and earth for them. It's just that I can't feel it. I can't feel any joy in living.

"I feel like I am an actor. Sometimes it makes me feel guilty. People give me their love and it feels as if all I do is act for them in return."

"You don't sleep well, do you?"

Hakeem shook his head. "I exercise and mediate and I try to spend time out of doors. I don't drink any more. Asha, that's Jacinta's cousin, would beat me otherwise." He smiled a little. "But no, I don't sleep well."

"It was like this for me for a long time. My heart felt frozen."

"Omphale," he said in a husky worried voice, "I never wanted to bring danger to your people by bringing Kynane here."

"Hakeem, are you really such a fool? You rescued us and without your help in those early years I don't know how any of us would have survived. Now just shut up and let an old friend repay just a little of what you have given her. It seems for a change, you need someone else's help."

"I can be a fool, I well know it." Hakeem chuckled, "And yes, I find it hard to ask. Can you hide her for a few days till she recovers? She would be less conspicuous in a dress and a scarf. Have you any spare clothes you can lend her?"

"Do you really think she would fit into one of my dresses?" Omphale laughed, "Don't worry! I can make some clothes."

"Can I give you some money?"

"Hakeem, you will really make me angry in a minute! But knowing how you worry, I'll be honest. We are doing well enough. The Hun showed little interest in us and we hide a lot from the Makedóne tax collectors."

Then she asked him the question that everyone asked.

"Hakeem, how could you make peace with them? For a long time, we were so angry with you. We felt betrayed. But now many of us are unsure. Much as we hate him, Parmenion is an able ruler. His taxes are not bleeding us and his officials are passingly honest. And he has truly laboured to repair the damage and keep order; prosperity is returning."

Hakeem smiled. "We need Aléxandros here in case the Hun come back."

Omphale looked sobered by the prospect.

"But when I met you, you seemed to be hiding such rage, how could you not kill them all?"

"The Makedónes were killing, robbing and stealing. Of course, I was angry."

"I don't think Aléxandros has given up on Anatolē. You must know that."

"Maybe, though I think he is more honourable than his father with holding truces, and he has more than enough to amuse himself with for the moment.

"If Jizhu gets his empire in order, he might be back. And while Æloðulf is dead, Gansükh is not, and we don't have Jacinta this time."

"How could we possibly survive something like Gansükh bringing more daimôns back into the world?" Omphale whispered, horrified. She looked out of her window involuntarily; the dark outside seemed filled with menace.

"I don't think we could. It almost finished us the first time," Hakeem admitted, and then he sighed. "Parmenion is ruling well. He can protect you better than I can."