Ursula chewed on that thought.
An amused smile turned Midia’s lips as she watched the young woman work though the puzzle. “Let me illustrate,” she finally said. At Ursula’s quick nod, the blonde continued, “You’ve seen our mistress at her most... shall we say ‘vicious’?”
The memory echoed within amber eyes as Ursula swallowed, olive skin paling.
“Yes,” Midia agreed. “Would you say that any of these slaves with that knowledge would wish to be her body servant?”
Leaping to the defense, the brunette said, “But they don’t know her! She’s not like that all the time.”
Finding the protective maneuver telling, Midia glossed over the issue. “True, but honestly, they only know what they’ve seen. Since we deal with our mistress’ appetites on a daily basis, we receive better treatment than the rest of the slaves she owns.”
Ursula could find little to argue, though the set of her jaw indicated she was still holding out for equality among slaves.
“Our mistress has a harsh reputation but it is always said that she’s fair. Just because we receive preferential treatment does not mean that her other slaves are treated poorly.”
Conceding the point, the brunette sighed and picked up her knitting. “How many slaves does Lady Azrael own?”
Midia followed suit and began sewing. “I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “We’re divided into three groups - military, household and field. Most of the slaves from the barracks are here, but some remain behind to keep things in order and see to the few troops there. They live near the barracks and separate from us. Of the household slaves, I’d say we number about thirty. We see to the cleaning and cooking. There is easily twice that in field slaves.”
“You said you don’t stay in Lady Azrael’s quarters but with your family,” Ursula said. “Where do you stay? In the villa?”
“No,” the blonde chuckled. “There are slaves’ quarters just past the kitchens. We have our own room, as do many other families. It’s separate from the villa, secluded; there’s a wall dividing our quarters from the villa itself and a fairly large courtyard that Milady has given us to make our own.”
Knowing the worth of possessions to a slave, Ursula raised an eyebrow. “That’s very generous of her.”
“Yes, it is,” Midia agreed. “With her assistance we’ve been able to create a very nice garden. She’s also allowed us to build benches and paths.” She glanced up and winked at the brunette. “It’s very beautiful. I think you’ll like it.”
Despite concentrating on the sock she was knitting, Ursula’s puzzlement had returned. Why would a brutal and severe general be so kind to her slaves?
Smiling to herself, Midia continued sewing.
Late afternoon stole upon them and the army was called to a halt. As the cohorts and slaves were dismissed to set up camp, Azrael rode up to the wagon containing her household. Midia was already on the ground, directing slaves in the unloading of their mistress’ tent as Ursula finished putting away the day’s work in a chest.
“Midia, you’ll have to do without Ursula for a time,” the general said as she reined in beside the wagon. “I’m stealing her away.”
“Yes, Milady,” the blonde said, curtseying.
Black eyes narrowed at the smile playing on her body slave’s lips, but Azrael didn’t want to lose what light there was to interrogate Midia. Her suspicion was noted and the slave’s grin bloomed before she turned away to supervise the others. A bemused air settled over Azrael and she turned to the brunette in the wagon. “Come along, Ursula,” she said, holding out her hand. “We’ve some riding to do and not much time.”
Hesitantly, Ursula took her mistress’ hand and was helped from the wagon to the back of the horse. Once she settled sidesaddle before Azrael, strong arms circling her, she relaxed only to grab at the dark woman’s arm when the steed leapt into a gallop.
The countryside had changed little since the morning. Hills gently swelled off the road, waves of earth and plants disappearing in all directions in a variety of colors. Everything was awash in the gold of the setting sun, long shadows stretching here and there promising cool respite from the heat. Away from the troops, Ursula could smell the vegetation rather than dusty road and she inhaled deeply, smiling.
Azrael slowed her mount and guided him off the road, moving at a trot toward a thicket of trees. As they neared, Ursula noticed a strange roar ahead, the noise growing louder with each step. Her mistress forgotten, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, concentrating on the sound, brow furrowed.
The general smiled at her open curiosity and continued forward. At the trees, she stopped her horse and gathered Ursula in her arms, dismounting. Releasing the slave long enough to tie the reins to a branch, she promptly captured Ursula’s hand and led her further. “Come along. I think you’ll find this interesting.”
It wasn’t long before they broke through the other side, the copse not being very thick. Ursula gasped in surprise, a delighted smile on her face at what lay before her.
They stood near the edge of a cliff. To the right was the river that had meandered along the road for miles plummeting down a vast waterfall to crash against rocks hundreds of feet below. Spray from the impact hovered nearly as high as their position and Ursula’s eyes lit up at the delicate rainbow whisping in and out of focus.
“It’s magnificent!” she exclaimed.
Azrael smiled at her slave’s excitement. “As are you.”
Ursula ducked her head with a pleased smile before returning her attention to the wondrous display before her. “However did you know about this place?” she blurted, pulling away to sit at the edge of the cliff.
“I found it during a sweep years ago,” the general said, her smile widening at Ursula’s lack of ever-present shyness. She sat down and pulled the slave close. “I make it a point to come here every time we’re in the area.”
Ursula leaned into her mistress. “Thank you for bringing me, Milady,” she said, suddenly remembering her place. “It’s beautiful.”
Azrael kissed the brunette’s temple. “Beautiful things complement each other,” she said. “I thought it only right to show you.”
Unable to answer, Ursula blushed and snuggled closer, inordinately pleased at the sound of a chuckle.
They remained until nightfall, twilight obscuring the mists and rainbows. When it was finally too dark to see, Azrael kissed the brunette before rising and pulling her to her feet. “We’d best get back to camp. Dinner should be ready and I’m certain Suma is beside himself wondering where I’ve hared off to.”
“Yes, Milady.”
Soon the women were mounted. Azrael let the horse walk across the meadow, not wanting him to twist an ankle in an unseen hole. On the road, she kicked him to a trot.
“Milady?”
“Yes, Ursula?”
“Have you brought Midia here?”
Azrael considered the question, surprised at her answer. “No, Ursula. I’ve never brought any of my body slaves here.” Why was that?
In the dark, Ursula burrowed closer to her mistress, a smile on her face.
And so the days went. Up at dawn, packed and ready to march. A day’s travel put behind the army before halting for the night. If there were any unique sites in the area, Azrael invariably visited them with Ursula.
Occasionally they would stop near a large town for two or three days. The soldiers were afforded leave and their general was pressed into service as a diplomat. At each point, more of Azrael’s troops, stationed on garrison duty, rejoined their companions.
Midia no longer shared their mistress’ bed though it was a week or more before Ursula stopped blushing about her nighttime vocalizations. At each town, the brunette was pressed into serving Azrael at various functions, losing more of her provincial inhibitions. It seemed as if she’d always been with Azrael, a level of comfort and security building each passing day that only startled her when she cared to think it over.
The distan
t mountains grew closer and the population increased. They marched past many farmsteads and small villages, each time garnering more and more attention. It was warmer, as well, and Ursula realized the growing season must be longer here. It was no wonder things were harder in the north. By now the first frost had begun and here harvest was weeks away.
A day came that Midia simply couldn’t concentrate, her embroidery heaped uselessly in her lap as she gazed upon the scenery with a smile. Even the soldiers seemed to be marching eagerly and Ursula puzzled over their behavior.
It was nearing midday when Azrael galloped to the still moving wagon. Her dark face was wreathed in smiles. “Midia, with me!”
Laughing, the blonde jumped up and clambered to the side of the wagon.
As she watched her companion transfer to their mistress’ horse, Ursula asked, “What is it, Milady? What’s occurring?”
“We’re almost home, Ursula,” Azrael said. “Just over that rise.”
The brunette looked where indicated and saw large fields of wheat. The tiny dots she realized were workers.
“Come along, Midia,” Azrael said. “Jastus and Petracal are waiting!” She kicked the horse into a gallop and raced away.
Ursula collected the blonde’s project and put it away. There was little doubt it was forgotten. Unable to concentrate, she stashed her needlework as well and watched the nearing rise.
Chapter Twelve
As the troop reached the crest, Ursula looked down onto a shallow valley. A sprawling walled complex lay to the left of the road, the entire thing nearly twice the size of her village. The brunette’s eyes were round as they continued along.
Field slaves noticed their approach; Ursula could almost hear the excited yells as she watched the tiny figures point and wave. Most dropped their farming implements to race for the complex. Those nearer to the marching army reached them first and walked along, calling to the soldiers and clapping fellow slaves on the back.
Envious of the friendly display, Ursula’s stomach knotted, indigestion burning at the back of her throat. She lost site of the complex as the army reached the valley floor. Exuberant welcomes bounced off the high wall as they passed and, over the din of marching feet, Ursula thought she could hear other voices inside.
Butterflies rampaged in her belly as the wall fell away from the road, opening into a dusty courtyard. A large, columned opening was to the left and Ursula could see the welcome green of potted plants in the atrium beyond. Azrael’s horse was tethered there. The wall continued along with another opening further down. People were scattered from one to the other, pointing and waving, happily chattering at one another. Azrael and Midia were nowhere to be seen.
Suma called the army to a halt. As the dust settled, the soldiers were commanded to turn and remain in formation. Silence filled the courtyard as the people hushed, expectation filling the air.
Azrael came from the columned atrium, striding down the handful of steps, a huge smile on her face. An older man with white hair and long mustaches accompanied her. She nodded greetings to those nearest as she mounted her horse, urging him forward to the front of the formation. Ursula’s wagon was positioned almost exactly in the middle so the slave had an excellent view of the proceedings.
“Swordsmen!” Azrael called, her voice ringing from the stone. “For two years you’ve toiled far from home with little complaint. I give you my thanks and pledge you my sword.” She pulled the weapon from its sheath and held it high.
In response, the troops cheered, drawing their own weapons until the courtyard sparkled with deadly joy.
When their voices receded, Azrael continued. “For the next three days, you are relieved of duty; the recruits will continue the perimeter guard. Those of you who wish extended leave, see your captains and a rotation will be granted.”
Again a cheer echoed off the walls. Ursula was surprised stones didn’t fall from the mortar at the loud noise.
“I proclaim the next three days as days of rest,” the general ordered, sheathing her weapon. “Tomorrow there will be food, music and dancing as we celebrate our homecoming!”
In the din that followed, the command for dismissal was barely heard. The troops fell out, sheathing weapons, slapping each other on the back and migrating toward the entry further down, followed by most of the slaves who had been with them.
“Time for ye to get down, lass,” the wagon driver said, craning his whole upper body to look back at Ursula. “We’ll be unloadin’ things inside the army court. Ye don’t belong there.”
The brunette swallowed, eyes glancing uncertainly about the courtyard. “Where am I to go?” she asked.
“The villa, lass,” the driver said, waving at the columned entry. “Don’t worry, the Lord will soon come looking for a pretty slip like you.”
Ursula nodded, stepping from the wagon. She’d hardly cleared it before the driver pulled away, leaving her to stand in a rapidly emptying courtyard.
Azrael had dismounted, once more in the company of the older man. Midia was nowhere to be seen and the rest of the faces belonged to strangers.
Taking a deep breath, Ursula approached the steps, following her mistress who was going inside.
The atrium was alive with potted plants circling the high walls. Placed intermittently, benches provided seating for petitioners. An oval of thinner columns surrounded a small gurgling fountain, supporting a partial roof that gave shade from the heat of the day. There were two doorways, an average sized one leading to the left and a larger entry with ornate carvings of vines to the right.
Ursula saw her mistress, deep in conversation, through the larger doorway. The slave’s dusty sandals whisked across the marbled floor. In her haste, she hardly noticed the mural delicately painted beneath her feet.
The entry hall was half the size of the outer atrium, the walls covered with tiny pieces of ceramic tile. A riot of color coalesced into pictures of the villa and surrounding land, and Ursula was amazed at the detail. Without thinking, she paused to stare, noting how each shade of coral was used to indicate depth and shadow. With a start, the body slave realized her mistress had disappeared and she hurried on to catch her.
The entry opened onto a large rectangular garden. As with the atrium behind her, a ceiling circled the room creating a covered hall. It teemed with plant life, a narrow pool in the center glittering with what appeared to be fish. Two servants knelt in the dirt, planting and weeding, their work producing a smell of rich loam. Beneath her feet, dark red marble glowed dully, and the walls were two toned - the same coral of the outer walls below and deep burgundy above. A handful of benches were strewn around the halls and beige curtains indicated doorways.
Ursula caught sight of her mistress along the right hall and scurried to catch up, barely missing a woman whose arms were full of linen. “Excuse me!” the brunette exclaimed, sketching a hasty curtsey and continuing on her way.
Hearing the slave, Azrael paused in her conversation and turned. “Ursula,” she called, raising a hand to wave her forward. “I’m glad you found me.”
“Yes, Milady,” the brunette said, halting beside her mistress.
“Ursula, this is Brahim.” Azrael laid a casual hand on her slave’s shoulder and nodded at the man. “He’s my steward and has served my family for quite some time.”
The steward tugged at his mustache, a slight grin on his barely visible lips. “And it is my honor to do so, Milady.”
Waving his compliment aside, Azrael said, “This is my new body slave, Ursula. She’s been with me for three months.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brahim,” the brunette said with a curtsey.
“Aye, lass. And I you.” He turned his attention to Azrael. “Felicia and Vincenza are preparing your quarters. I’ll have one of them see to a room for Ursula.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Azrael shook her head. “Ursula is to stay in my quarters for now.”
After so much time living in her mistress’ tent, Ursula saw nothing
unusual in Azrael’s order. Witnessing Brahim’s round eyes blinking, she wondered at his confusion.
The steward cleared his throat, tugging harder on his mustache with one hand. ”She’ll stay in your quarters, Milady?”
Oblivious, Azrael said, “Yes. Ursula, at the end of this hall are stairs. Go up them and into the great hall. Bear right and follow along until you see an opening on the left.” She squeezed the slave’s shoulder and gave a gentle nudge. “Tell Felicia and Vincenza to prepare the extra bedchambers for you.”
“Yes, Milady.”
The dark woman watched her slave until she was to the stairs. She caught an odd expression on her steward’s face but paid it no mind. He had every reason to be startled. Azrael had never allowed a slave to reside with her.
Drawing him toward the doorway that led to his chambers, she said, “Brahim, you were speaking about last year’s yield…?”
The old man once more began filling in his mistress on the past two years of farming business. Granted, they had sent messages back and forth as needed, but the rest of the afternoon would be utilized to bring Lady Azrael current in all areas.
For the moment, Ursula was forgotten.
The great hall was aptly named, Ursula mused as she stepped in. More of the same dark red marble lined the floor in both directions and the ceiling was high overhead. From her vantage point, the hall was twice as long to her left as to her right with more benches and pottery along the sides. Four columns indicated a large room a bit further on, but the slave did as bade and turned right, hoping there’d be time for exploring later. The same two colors were utilized as the garden walls below, the upper burgundy stopping just above Ursula’s head and the natural coral above displaying delicate murals of pigment.
Neck craned, the brunette studied the artwork, smiling at a realistic depiction of her mistress in full armor astride a grand war chariot. Several other pictures showed Azrael hunting wild animals, some of which looked mythological in nature, exhibiting her prowess in all manner of activities. With a start, Ursula realized she’d nearly passed her mistress’ suite.
On Azrael's Wings Page 10