To the Victor

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Indeed. Do you keep the dagger on you at all times?" Amir asked.

  "Always."

  "May I see it?"

  I paused. I wore it sheathed under my bodice, in a special loop Charlotte had sewn into each of my undergarments. There was no way to retrieve it without sticking my hand down my dress at the table. Decorum might have been overrated, but that was pushing it, even for me.

  "Would you mind stepping outside?"

  "Not at all."

  We rose from our chairs in unison. Charlotte and Alfaro both went to stand, as well, but I held up my hand. "Stay and enjoy yourselves. We will only be gone a moment."

  Amir followed me out into the hallway.

  "I wear it against my bosom," I said, reaching deftly into the neckline of my gown. Amir averted his eyes. "I had it made by a jeweler in town, a close family friend. It is often just Charlotte and I traveling alone, and one can never be too careful. The altercation with Sir Erich alone made it worth the price." I pulled it out of the holder and held it out for him to examine. "You can look now."

  "It's a fine piece." He took it from my hand and turned it around in his palm. It was about six inches long, with a moonstone-encrusted cross hilt handle and an iron blade engraved with swirling flowers. "Could probably even punch through armor if you were close enough." He jabbed outward, and I parried, stepping back while firmly tapping my index and middle fingers against the inside of his wrist. The knife went flying.

  "You've had some training!"

  "A bit." I retrieved the blade and smoothed it over my dress. "My parents sent me to a Catholic boarding school. A few of the girls knew swordsmanship."

  "The world can be a dangerous place. I feel it is a necessary skill for women."

  "It's good to hear that, Sir Amir."

  "Shall we dance?" He pulled his own dagger, a five-inch metal blade with a short sword hilt.

  I grinned at him. "Two points for the win."

  Without another word, I charged him. He smoothly sidestepped me, but it was what I had expected; I pivoted on my left heel and thrust sideways, tapping the hollow of his throat with my knife.

  "One."

  He laughed and reached out, clasping me by the elbow. "The girls at school taught you street tricks, too, did they?" Swinging my blade arm around, he pulled me towards him in an arc. I threw up my other hand in an attempt to guard my face, and the flat end of his dagger landed against my unprotected side.

  "One, one."

  "You know a few tricks, yourself."

  "A fair few." He let me go. We circled around each other like cats, each looking for an opening. My blood was pumping, and I felt more invigorated than I had in months. It had been ages since I'd had a good knife fight.

  He dashed toward me, and I mimicked his move, grasping him by the blade arm and swinging him around with my dagger prepared to tap his side and end the match. In surprise, he flew loosely towards me, but only for a second before he stiffened up entirely and grabbed my waist with his free hand.

  "Oh!"

  I stumbled due the sudden change in momentum, releasing him and jerking against his shoulder. He held me tightly against him, and I found the broad portion of his weapon resting above my exposed cleavage.

  "Two, one," he said. "You're a quick study."

  I took a deep breath, and his hand rose against my skin before he removed it. "No, I'm out of practice. You're quite good, Sir Amir."

  "As are you, especially if that's what you consider out of practice."

  I shrugged. "It's true. Charlotte doesn't enjoy swordplay, so I rarely get to do it, other than on trees during my morning ride. And they don't move." I wiped the sweat from my brow. "That was the most enjoyment I've had in a good long while."

  "We'll have to do it again, then."

  I realized I was still pressed against his side. Although he had dropped his blade hand, his arm remained curled around me, and I could smell him: like warm sweat and fresh hay. He was only a few inches taller than me, and as I watched him, what looked like a muscle began to tic nervously in his cheek.

  He turned his face towards mine, and we looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Amir's eyes were like those of a cat, inquisitive and bright, shining with intrigue. He seemed to glow from the inside out. He leaned toward me and rested his forehead on mine for a moment, closing his eyes.

  "They'll wonder why we have not yet returned," I whispered.

  He pressed his head against mine for another second, and then moved away. "Yes, let's assure them you haven't run me off with the dagger." I swatted his arm playfully.

  We entered into the dining room to find Charlotte's head on Alfaro's shoulder as he whispered into her ear. I exchanged a sly glance with Amir. They hadn't appeared to miss us at all, and as we took our places, Amir reached out to grab my hand under the table. The rest of the meal passed in a blur of the feeling of his fingers rubbing against mine, and far too soon I was walking him to the entryway. Alfaro went to fetch the horses they'd ridden in on from the stable, leaving us standing in the archway.

  "It is a shame I must go. The tournaments start in a short while, and we must ready the horse and the armor. Thank you, My Lady, for allowing me to share your morning meal."

  "The pleasure was mine."

  He leaned in to give me the briefest kiss on the cheek, and I smelled him again. The closeness of him was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Alfaro rode up, Amir's mare in tow, and Amir quickly leapt onto her back.

  "Farewell, Miryam." It was the first time he said my name, and I shivered.

  "Farewell, Sir Amir. Good luck at the tournament."

  They rode off, and I leaned against the doorway, watching them disappear down the road.

  "That was lovely, wasn't it?" Charlotte came to stand beside me. "And where did you two disappear to?"

  "Oh, you noticed, did you? Because it appeared as if you had completely forgotten about me. I might've been kidnapped!"

  "You're such a goose." Charlotte laughed. "You forget I've seen you with a knife. I would be more concerned about you kidnapping Sir Amir, and not the other way around."

  "Funny you should mention it, because we actually had a duel in the hallway." Charlotte's eyes grew round as saucers at my words. "A friendly duel," I clarified. "And he won."

  "Did he? Well, well. I might have to worry about you, after all."

  "Hush." I draped one arm loosely across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "It's still barely after terce. Come now, let's get ready for the day."

  *~*~*

  "I'm sorry, Johan, but I simply cannot accept this price."

  "It's a fair price!"

  I sighed. The storm season had passed, and so business had begun to pick up. Merchants were traipsing in and out daily to renegotiate their terms for the upcoming shipping season. Many had been sailing with us for years and depended on our fleet to get their goods into and out of Europe. We had a chancery on the first floor where we conducted business, and I had fond memories of my father sitting behind his desk, a massive piece of furniture hand carved from mahogany, and negotiating with buyers and sellers of goods of all kinds. I sat there now, across from a spice merchant who was currently attempting to swindle me.

  "It's half of what you paid last season. You know I'm a fair woman; I wouldn't overcharge you. You wish to get your spices? The cost for a journey that length is non-negotiable."

  He began to turn red with anger, clenching his hands his fists. "Damn you, woman!" He pounded the desk in front of me.

  "Johan." My voice was ice-cold, and I skimmed my hand across the weapon I had placed underneath the desk. It rarely was necessary, but occasionally the sword secured there had been pulled with a potential customer who thought they could persuade me with force. "You have my answer. And now I must be forced to ask you to leave."

  In a huff, he stormed out. I let out a deep breath. My family had accumulated some grudges over the years, but we had always run a sound business so that the good o
utweighed the bad. I wasn't worried about John turning other customers against me, but it was always a disappointment to lose business. Reaching into a drawer on the bottom of the desk, I pulled out a ledger. Dipping my quill into the small pot of ink that sat in front of me, I scribbled a few notes into the book:

  Johan – spice merchant

  1-3 shillings per pound

  Requested to pay 0.5 shillings per pound

  CANCELLED

  I snapped the book shut. I would have to contact some of my business associates to see if they might have another spice merchant I could bring into the fold. Saffron was also in high demand, as well as somerset oats. I fluttered the feather of the pen in the air as I thought. I already had two other spice merchants utilizing the ships; perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

  "My Lady."

  I looked up to see Amir standing in front of me, clad in only the white hose that customarily went beneath armor.

  "Sir Amir!" I rose to my feet and curtsied. He bowed in return. "It has been but a fortnight since we last saw each other! What brings you here? I thought you would be busy with the tournament. And… where are your clothes?" He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  "My armor is in the parlour. There was a gap in matches today, so I thought I might ride over and ask you to come to the next joust in person. It is in a few days, and I had considered sending you a note with Alfaro, but, if I'm honest, I wanted to see where you worked. Alfaro mentioned that you had a chancery."

  "And I assume Charlotte was the one that slipped that tidbit along."

  "You assume correctly." He settled himself into the overstuffed chair that sat across from me. "What do you do here?"

  "My parents were traders from Algeria: imports and exports, spices mostly, among other goods. They did very well for themselves, with a storefront in town as well as this one. I deal with the clients, arrange the transport, and oversee the maintenance of the ships. We have six, with full crews. And they're beauties, too. We're known for some of the fastest shipping in the empire. My parents saw to it that our name became associated with only the highest quality services."

  "An admirable feat, especially for people not of this land."

  "Yes. Our status as nobility was paid for as my parents' rose to prominence in the trade business and everyone wanted to do business with them. Soon we owned land, this manor. They brought on Sofia and, later, her husband John to tend to the grounds. We went from a single boat to ten. And they had high hopes for me, so as soon as I was old enough, I was sent to Catholic school, as I've mentioned, to learn all the ins and outs of how to be a proper society lady. But I was their only child, and one morning they were sailing for leisure in the spring when a storm blew up and capsized their craft." As I always did when I spoke of my parents' deaths, I crossed myself. "I took the reins of the business and never looked back."

  "Miryam. I'm so sorry." He grabbed my hand across the desk and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. The contact surprised me.

  "Thank you." I could still feel the warmth of his fingers lingering on mine, as if they were radiating heat. I resisted the urge to examine my hand and see if he'd left an imprint behind. I was too acutely aware of his presence in the room, the closeness of him, his touch. I shook myself mentally.

  Calm yourself!

  "I've sold just enough boats to keep the trade business going alone," I continued. "This was my father's desk." I rubbed the wood ruefully. "But most of the books are mine." There were dozens of bookcases in the room, crammed floor to ceiling with worn leather bounds.

  "You must be an avid reader."

  I nodded. "Charlotte insists I prefer books to actual company. But I do believe I like yours well enough. I would love to attend the next joust."

  "I thank you, my Lady." He rubbed at a spot on his chin thoughtfully. "And perhaps you might help me with a spot of business?"

  "What are you inquiring about?"

  "As you know, I am a knight of his Highness, Justinian the Great. I am competing in the tournament in his name, and although the bulk of my winnings belongs to the crown, I keep a portion. I have been considering investing in a business." He leaned back in his chair. "I have also been considering not returning to Italy. I have fulfilled my military obligations, and my body grows weary of jousts. I have been gifted a fief there, but it is taken care of fully by the people. I have little wish to return except perhaps on annual visits."

  What good fortune! I thought. Just as Johan exited, Amir appeared. An Italian connection would be wonderful for the business.

  "That sounds like an excellent opportunity for the both of us," I said. "I know a barrister who can come up with an agreement, if you so wish."

  "Wonderful." He didn't move.

  "Was there… anything else?" I asked.

  "Well, I also… wanted to talk to you. Just… talk."

  "Oh. What would you like to know?" I had never done much speaking with a man before; I had never truly found one interesting. But if Amir was curious about me, I certainly wanted to talk.

  "I have been quite curious about your Lady-In-Waiting, Charlotte. How did she come into your employ? Alfaro won't say a word about her, despite the fact that they seem to be getting very close. Perhaps a little too close. Alfaro is… inexperienced, and I am growing a bit concerned."

  "You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Charlotte. She won't break your Alfaro's heart, I give you my word. I know her as well as I know myself."

  "Very well."

  "And as for how she came into my employ: our mothers were the best of friends." I smiled at the memories. "Two Moorish women in England, and Yorkshire no less? They locked eyes one day at a market and were thick as thieves ever since. My mother was already married, running an export business, and ma to a five-year-old troublemaker when they met." I winked at him. "Hafsa—Charlotte's mother—was a teenage girl working as a nursemaid for a well-to-do Scottish family. Quite the scandal when she ran off with their eldest son."

  Amir raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Quite."

  "My parents housed them while they got on their feet. They had Charlotte five years later. Opened a metalworking business that they ran together, which is unheard of for a woman, especially a Moor. They did very well, too."

  "The golden headpiece you were wearing when I met you…"

  "Charlotte made that. She inherited that gift. But their metal shop burned down when she was nine and I was 19. Her parents were trapped inside. It was a most terrible accident, but luckily, she was visiting some of her father's family in Leeds when it occurred."

  "Metalworking can be quite dangerous, or so I'm told." He bowed his head in understanding. I nodded.

  "And so she moved in with us," I continued. "My parents hired her as my Lady-in-Waiting for appearances sake, but she's always been family. What of you and Alfaro? How did he come to be your valet?"

  "I found Alfaro wandering the streets of Egypt during battle," Amir said, and shuddered. "A child of barely eleven years, and covered in blood. Whom it belonged to, to this day I don't know. Tattered clothes, thin, with the bloated belly of starvation and dysentery. Near death. I made a request of my general that I be able to keep the child with me as a possible valet for when the conflict ended. It was granted. We traveled across Egypt, North Africa, Crete, Sicily. War is an ugly thing. We saw unspeakable things. But I had to keep going for Alfaro. We both knew that things would only be worse for us if we were separated."

  A look of sadness so severe showed on Amir's face that I wanted to cross the desk and take him into my arms. I settled for reaching out and grasping his hand. "You're safe now. You both are."

  "Thank you, my Lady." He gave my hand another squeeze, and this time he didn't let go. We intertwined our fingers, and I could feel my heart begin to race. "So you understand how protective I am."

  "I understand. We want only the best for those under our care. Before Alfaro, Charlotte turned away all suitors, and I wondered if it was my fault, if I was
selfish for allowing her to stay under my care. Some suggested I turn her out, so that she might be forced to marry."

  Especially Levin, the proprietor of the boardinghouse where you're staying, I added in my head. He was a widower and had had his eye on Charlotte for years. More than once he'd accused me of locking her in the house to assuage my own spinsterdom.

  "To have her forcibly removed would be a mistake," Amir said. "You said it yourself—you're family. That is the most important thing."

  "Where is your family?"

  "Aside from Alfaro, I have none. My father died eight years past, and my mother three years after him."

  It was my turn to offer my condolences. "May they rest in peace. Are you, too, an only child?"

  "I have two living brothers," Amir said quietly. "But we do not speak."

  "Why not?"

  "They do not wish to." He said nothing further, and I allowed the matter to drop.

  "I see. Well, perhaps you can become a part of our family, if you stay." The words flew out of my mouth before I even had the chance to consider what I was saying. They'd just felt natural.

  Immediately fearing I had overstepped my boundaries, I let go of his hand. "I mean—our business. Family business."

  He smiled at me. "I'd like that." Then he stood and leaned in towards me. His fragrance flooded my nose again; today he impossibly smelled like black licorice. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

  Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. It was a chaste kiss, nothing more than the lightest touch of skin on skin, as soft and delicate as a butterfly floating over a rose. I had been kissed before, and gone even further, giving up my maidenhood long ago when I'd realized I had no real interest in marriage. But this was different. This made me feel like there was something bubbling up inside me, wishing to burst free. In seconds, it was over.

  "Oh, my." I swallowed deeply as the bubbling sensation tingled over my lips. "Oh, my."

  "I'll see you at the joust, lovely Miryam."

  *~*~*

  The heat had broken. Time was moving swiftly, and several sennights had passed since I'd last seen Amir. It would be harvest soon. This was the last joust of the tournament, so all of the court was out, and the villagers as well, standing on the outskirts of the field. Charlotte had fashioned me a gown of red-bronze silk with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly matched Amir's signature copper iron. Although we had yet to discuss official courtship, it was certainly clear to anyone watching that he had my fancy.