And she was one to be reckoned with.
I named my son Flanin, after a popular man who came into power just after the first socerorous clouds of the cataclysm settled. I did not visit Inveress often, and when I did, I did not pay much attention to Madden’s Lady; not many of us real women did. Madden and the other Thanes and several warrior nobles from Skall visited Inveress on many occasions, and I made fast companions of the Thane of Ross. I knew Ross from many a campaign in the north, and she and I soon banded together in our taunts of Madden’s Lady.
Lady Madden was a slight, ever-smiling young woman who looked to be of no more than thirteen years at a glance. Only her revealing dress - red and often transparent, impractical even for a Lady - gave away her age as something other than that of a maturing young child. When Ross and I told tales of the oddities we had encountered on various campaigns, whispering that they were unhappy ghosts, the Lady scoffed at our words, insisting that there were no such things as spirits or demons now that magic had been bled from the earth by the cataclysm.
We won battle after battle, Madden and I, commanders of King Dunwan of New Skalland’s vast army. More land joined New Skalland with every victory, so much land that rebellion was inevitable. Where there are conquered, there is unrest.
The rebellion came, and with it, the beginning of my nightmares. The Thane of Cawdor grabbed a hold of a vast portion of northern New Skalland and rallied the rebels and townsfolk there together. He grabbed up mercenaries from a loose clan known as the Old Illand, adding strength and experience to his numbers. When the rebels moved to overrun Skall, Madden and I were waiting with an army at our backs. The battle was short-lived and bloody, as many are. The rebel Thane of Cawdor was hauled off to Skall to be tried for treason. As for Madden and I, we camped that night near a twisted tree on a slight rise several miles from the battle sight to tend to our wounds. We were just half a day’s walk from Skall.
“Mallen, King Dunwan’s son, is looking after our troops,” Madden said, spitting on a tattered, filthy bit of linen that he had pulled from his leather vest’s pocket. He began wiping the blood from his brow with the wetted rag. “I told him to take them back to Skall and we would follow within a day.”
Madden took the first watch as the bitter cold of evening came upon us. I watched my battle companion as I fell into a fitful half-sleep. He stood outlined beneath the pinkish-red glow of the crescent moon, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Madden had slain the New Illand’s leader, Mydrenar, who attacked Dunwan’s oldest son, Mallen, early on in the conflict. For us, only another body to be gutted, but for Dunwan, a kill deserving reward.
At dawn, I stood watch and witnessed the rise of a bloody, crimson sun. Light blazed across the horizon. Madden rose soon after, and we began in the direction of Skall. Orange-red dust swirled about our ankles, coating our already filthy legs, arms and faces in a thin, grimy coating. The sun grew high and hot, and we both drew our hoods down over our faces. Daylight is not the best time to travel, but then, neither is the darkness.
By the third hour, we came upon the High Way. Madden jumped about the ancient, rusted vehicles lining the cracked, dirt strewn Way, just as we had always been told not to do as children. I was in good spirits, happy to be returning to Skall where my son awaited my arrival. With a grin, I leapt up onto the nearest vehicle and trotted after Madden. He drew his blade while astride the back end of a dilapidated carriage. I drew mine as well, and we sparred throughout the make-shift training ground, making our way ever closer to Skall. Before we realized it, we were out of breath underneath a dusky sky mottled in frills of orange, violet, pink and rose.
No more time to waste. Darkness means death. We sheathed our blades and began trotting through the path cleared down the middle of the High Way, stopping for nothing as we leapt over unrecognizable bits of rusted metal and plastic. A cool wind came out of the north, and I shivered involuntarily. Darkness touched the sky.
I ran only a short distance when I heard something carried to my ears with the wind. A chanting, cackling sound. My throat abruptly went dry.
Spirits.
I shook the thought from my head. I did not believe in such things at that time. I considered, and still do, that people are the most frightening, unpredictable beings that have ever existed. But that day, I would rather have fought a thousand unpredictable warriors than witness the wretches we encountered on the High Way.
Madden disappeared just in front of me as he vaulted over a vehicle frame. He gave a shout of alarm, and I drew my blade before following. As I scrambled over the frame, I choked on the stench that assailed me. A thousand horrible things I have smelled, and a thousand more I could describe, but none were like that reek of death and rot and gore; of garbage and feces.
The figures, the things that exuded this stench, were almost as jarring to the senses. They were three apparitions standing about a low burning barrel. They did not huddled about it for warmth, but hunkered down near the flickering wisps of flame as if to listen to their secrets. Thick strips of leather and tarp and linen - so many kinds of fabrics that I could not tell one from the other - draped them from their cavernous, blistered faces to their scabbed, callused feet.
Madden kept his sword in one hand, rag to cover his nose in the other. I breathed through my mouth. Madden stood several paces across from them, and I sprang to his side, sword free.
“What are they?” he muttered, more for his ears than mine.
I grinned, trying to ignore those wilted faces outlined in tendrils of orange firelight and sooty smoke.
“I would say they are women, friend,” I said. I raised my dull, battered blade toward their sickly forms. “Can you speak, spirits?”
They muttered something, whether to the two of us or to the air I could not tell. One, a large, rotund figure slightly shorter than the others, put a finger to her lips as she gazed into the fire, as if contemplating a serious question.
“Speak up or move out of the way, hags! Our business is in Skall, and you bar the path.” In truth, Madden and I could most likely have squeezed past them and continued along the Way, but the thought of brushing so close to those reeking, apparitional bodies made me shiver. I would do it, but not if a better solution presented itself.
“Can you speak, witches?” Madden shouted.
“Hail!”
I jumped into a defensive stance when the rotund witch shouted into the night. Her sickly, croaking voice filled the sky.
“Hail to the Thane of Glen,” the witch continued, wretched voice dipping into a paper-thin rasp.
“Hail to Madden, the Thane of Cawdor,” a second witch piped up, hair a tangle of filthy dreadlocks. She sounded young beneath all that muck, though I couldn’t put an age to her.
“Hail to Madden, for he will be King of New Skalland,” hissed the last. She was thin and willowy, the second eldest of the witches, if age could be determined by voice.
My eyes met Madden’s. He had grown deathly pale despite the dirt and blood on his face. His eyes were wide, almost frightened. I did not realize why at the time. I should have known better.
“King,” I muttered. “You will be king.” I turned my attention back to the witches, who were cackling silently, shoulders trembling in soundless mirth. “You speak of great things for my companion. Tell me then, the fate of my boy. What will become of him?”
One does not see apparitions often. One must question them whenever they appear. They see a world we cannot.
“Your son will be King, Banan, and all those thereafter,” the youngest said.
I did not even notice the women begin to fade into the night.
“Wait!” Madden shouted, raising a hand into the air as if to grab hold of their misty forms. “How do you know these things? Who told you? Are you spirits?” He took a step toward the three sisters.
The fire went out.
The three mysterious women vanished with it.
We did not speak the rest of the way to Skall. Madden brooded, encased
in his own thoughts, and any attempt on my part to bring up the strange encounter was met with silence.
The gate at Skall was guarded by over forty warriors and twelve sentries, every last one of them with sharp wits and sharper eyes, so it came as no surprise than a small party came out to greet us, fully armed. It was a common enough occurrence, but the faces of the party weren’t common at all. Nor was what they had to say.
“Who comes to greet us?” Madden called.
I could barely make out the dim outlines of two figures jogging quickly toward us, chains and swords clanking. A party of just two? Wasn’t five the usual assembly?
“The Thanes of Ross and Annil,” came a familiar voice, so full of triumphant joy and pride that it took me a moment to recognize the voice of Ross.
I waited until the two of them were close enough to make out their faces before letting my hand stray from the hilt of my blade. The moon hung low, but it was enough to make out Ross’s continence. Annil grinned as well. Her cropped yellow hair was a mass of sticky dred-locks. Ross had taken down her own waist length hair and divided it into a festive array of tiny braids.
Ross grinned like a fool. “The King,” she managed to sputter, and Annil laughed. “The King has heard all about the battle, Madden, and when the couriers began coming in, each one baring your name and praises on their lips, he actually began wondering whether the crown should be yours or his!”
I started, and Madden and I exchanged guarded looks.
“No money, no, but not only his thanks.” Ross reached into her long leather coat. “He also commanded me to dub you the Thane of Cawdor.”She pulled the heavy gold chain of office bearing the Thane of Cawdor’s symbol and held it out in front of my companion.
“I can’t be the Thane of Cawdor,” Madden said, voice deep, angry. “He still lives in-”
“Aye, he lives,” Annil said, spitting on the ground at her feet. “But with all that rippin’ an tearin’ `scribed in his death sentence, who knows how many more hours he’ll live? Certain not `til morning. So take yer title, young bastard, and let us celebrate.”
I glanced over at Madden as he held the chain in his hand, eyes never leaving the Thane of Cawdor’s symbol. “They say I will be King as well, Banan. But your boy will be King thereafter. This they promised, friend. This they promised.”
There was something in his voice, something so dark and sinister that I felt as if I were standing next to a stranger. I was suddenly very anxious to get back to my boy.
King Dunwan, his great mass filling the raised and tattered recliner that made up his throne, rose to meet us with open arms as we were ushered into his chamber. He praised both Madden and I on our success, and I had to bear through an overwhelmingly unpleasant embrace that I could have easily done without. I would have smelled better the rest of the night if he had refrained.
All of the Thanes were present, and they flanked King Dunwan in a small, neat half circle which Madden and I joined. Ross winked at me as I took my place, and I grinned back. Madden, I knew, received the Thane’s title because of his blood lineage, not his valor. The King knew of my endeavors as well. I may not be duly rewarded, but my son, perhaps... I shook the thought from my head.
“I have gathered you here for a purpose, my Thanes and kinspeople,” King Dunwan began after the small crowd quieted. His sons, Mallen and Donal, flanked either side of him, and two of his Ladies stood behind him, both looking young enough to be his grandchildren.
I glanced about for my wild-eyed boy, knowing that he would find a way to listen in on this gathering. Sure enough, I caught sight of his honey-colored head peeking down at me from a loose ceiling tile. The ducts and vents in these old pre-cataclysm holds did not offer any sort of secured privacy. For once, I was glad. I grinned up at my boy, and he grinned back, smiling a foppish adolescent smile.
“I have summoned you as witnesses to the descent of my lands and title. I have decided to name my heir,” Dunwan announced. “My lands, Thanes and all other resources of New Skalland, will, upon my death, be granted to…,” he paused for effect, beady little eyes staring out at each and every one of us through thick wrinkles of fat, “my eldest son, Mallen.” He finished with a flourish of his hand.
My heart jumped. The other Thanes looked a bit confused as well, but rushed to congratulate the named heir. I looked to Madden. He wore an expression like the hard rocky face of Dunsinane hill, stable and never-changing. I had never seen him in such a state - except before battle.
“You will hold us a celebration at Inveress in three days time?” Dunwan called to Madden.
“Of course, my King,” Madden answered, expression melting into a smile that did not touch his eyes. “Let me start ahead to bring news of your coming. My Lady must prepare.”
Madden walked from the throne room with a hand on his sword and death in his eyes. I gazed up at the ceiling where Flanin still remained, and motioned toward the doors. He gave a nod and disappeared without a sound to be heard over the hearty cheering and drinking of the Thanes, King Dunwan, and a blushing Mallen. Yes, the named Prince of New Skalland was actually blushing.
Like an ill-bred Lady.
When we arrived at Inveress three days later, Lady Madden gave us all such a pleasant, polite welcoming that Ross and I were nearly sick. Madden’s Lady was dressed in practical attire, consisting of a halter top, black leather coat and faded, tattered trousers that hung loose about her slight form.
Madden seemed moody most of the night, and he and his Lady left the banquet table early. At the time, I thought little of it. Flanin sat beside me at supper, grudgingly displaying his table manners. Even Ross complemented me on my boy’s behavior, and the Thane of Len’s Lady offered to purchase him from me. I was very proud.
Several of us sparred in Inveress’s courtyard after the meal. Madden watched coolly with a chipped porcelain cup in his hand. My boy battled with Ross, and was thrown to the dirt arena many a time, but his spry, wiry form kept coming back up until he had learned all he could from her fighting forms. Madden, for the first time, watched my boy with interest. He had never taken any notice of him, even when his Lady bore him no children.
As Flanin went to shake hands with Ross, I noticed Madden’s Lady in the shadows near the stairway leading up into the guest rooms. Her eyes were narrow slits. I had heard many times the tricks he played on that unpleasant woman, and I rewarded him with a sweet treat from New Ley every time I heard of those tricks. Her eyes found their way to me, and I stared right back at her with the gaze of a woman. For several moments we stood like that, eye to eye, a courtyard arena between us. She did not turn away until Flanin rushed up to my side to receive a hearty pat on the back and a wink. And then, her eyes turned to him.
I could not stand it any longer, and told my boy that we were going to bed. He protested, but I would not have him running about with that mad Lady on the loose. Flanin and I shared a good room at Inveress, and it should have been a restful night, despite Madden’s Lady. It was not.
“Mother? Banan!”
I threw off my flimsy sheet and jerked my head to the glowing coals of the fireplace. No, it wasn’t a fire. My boy stood at the window, fully dressed and armed with his dagger.
“Come to the window,” he said.
I grabbed my sword from beside my sleeping pallet and went to stand with him at the cracked window. He pulled back a bit of cloth keeping out the chill night air from a large fracture and stuck his head dangerously close to the jagged glass.
“I heard a shout,” he muttered. His hair stuck up in all directions, so dirty it looked as if he bore thick brown locks like my own. “Nyden and Len came in from a ride last night and asked Madden if they could see the King. Nyden just went up to the King’s rooms.”
I glanced down into the courtyard where Madden and Len were speaking in low voices. A door just five rooms down from our own was flung open, and a piercing cry split the dusky haze of dawn.
“Murder and treason!” Nyden cried, and po
unded down the stairs.
Madden and Len conferred with him a moment, and then they jumped up the stairwell to Dunwan’s rooms.
“Ring the alarm bell!” Len shouted as he darted back out from the room.
Nyden sprinted to the great gong next to the gates and picked up the mallet. A single boom shuddered the air, and those not already stirring stirred. Those awake flung open their doors and strapped on their weapons.
“Stay here, boy,” I said to Flanin, and opened up the door.
“Mother?”
“Stay here!” I shouted, and slammed the portal shut.
What followed was utter chaos. I have never heard such wailing and disorder except on a battlefield. Ross and Annil were ready to slit the throat of Nyden. Len insisted that he and Madden were innocent. Lady Madden looked as if she were about to faint, even before Madden stumbled back down the steps, shouting that King Dunwan’s attendants were drunker than New Ennlanders and covered in the King’s blood, daggers in their hands. He said he’d killed them in his rage.
Nyden raised a cry of alarm at the deaths of the attendants and said that they had not been allowed to attend a proper trial. Len said that the spirits of the dead had to be laid to rest or would walk about the night seeking revenge.
“There are no such things as spirits,” Lady Madden contended.
The shouting began to trouble my ears, and I grew tired of the endless tirade. Lady Madden grew considerably paler the more Madden spoke. She finally fainted.
“Help the Lady!” Nyden cried, and rushed to her side. Len and Madden followed suite, fondling over her as if she were truly as frail as she appeared.
Ross and I exchanged disgusted looks.
Mallen and Donal, Dunwan’s sons, stood apart from the others, shock painted on brotherly faces. They would be of no help. Ross and Annil stood solidly, however, and the three of us stepped forward as one.
“Yes, look after that Lady,” I said, voice heavy with scorn. “And when we have our frail, delicate Lady safe from the sight of blood, we’ll meet together to discuss what happened to our King.” I glanced over at Madden’s Lady. She watched me closely from beneath thick, heavy lashes. “Fear and Ladies cloud our judgment. I’m willing to put both aside to find the traitor who killed our King.”
Brutal Women: The Short Stuff Page 7