“Was he miserable with that?”
Surprise touched Dave’s eyes, and he shook his head slowly. “No, as a matter of fact, they had a very happy life together. Queen Victoria loved him with all her heart, and when he died she wore black for the rest of her life as a sign of mourning.”
“I can understand that,” Chava said. He peeled his potato slowly, thinking. Then he said, “I love Faya very much, and I believe she loves me.”
“Then why does she treat you like a—like a slave?”
“It is the custom,” Chava said with surprise. “I suppose I’m used to it. And I like to garden. I like to keep this house. It takes a lot of intelligence, believe it or not. Houses don’t just run themselves, and actually, my boy, I could never go out and face a tiger as my wife did.”
This caught Dave’s attention. “You mean she actually fought a tiger?”
“You probably noticed that her leg is withered. It was mauled by a tiger. She killed him, and that’s his pelt she wears as her royal robe, but she’s never been the same since.” Chava paused. “After all, that’s the problem, if your whole life is based on some physical activity. When you get older, you’ll either get weaker naturally through age—or perhaps injury will strike you down. Then what do you fall back on?”
Dave frowned. “I saw that happen to some athletes in Oldworld. When they were young and strong, the whole world bowed down to them. But when they got older, they couldn’t perform anymore.”
“And they were probably very unhappy. But if you think of people who work with their minds—teachers, poets, musicians—they probably had much happier, much more productive lives.”
Dave shook his head stubbornly. “That may be so, but I could never be happy living like—well, like you do, Chava.”
“No, I think you could not, because it’s been born and bred in your bones that men are the strong ones and should rule over the weaker women.”
“Well, it’s true,” Dave said. “I don’t think your women are strong physically. Why, there’s not a one of them that could stand up against me or Reb or Josh with a sword. I’d be willing to test it.”
“You’ll never get the chance,” Chava said. “The warrior maids are a fighting unit. Each one of them is brave and strong and able, but if they see one of their number being overcome, they swarm to her defense.”
“I see,” Dave said slowly.
He was about to say something else when Princess Merle came through the door. She was wearing an outfit he had not seen before, a skirt made from the pelt of an animal, perhaps a black panther, and an upper garment made of some sort of woven material. He could not help admiring her and thought, Back in Oldworld she’d make a million bucks a year as a model for one of those fashion houses. But if she didn’t like somebody, she’d whack their head off, I suppose.
“Come with me, Dave,” Merle said. She did smile at Chava and say, “I’ll have to borrow your helper for a while, Father.”
“Of course.” He gave the pair a look as they walked out, and muttered, “There’s going to be trouble with that pair. Both of them are strong-willed.”
“Where are we going?” Dave asked.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“Look, Merle—”
“Call me Princess,” the girl said. “Remember your place.”
“All right.” Dave shrugged impatiently. “Princess Merle, then. I can’t put up with this a whole lot longer. If you want me to do something for you, give me a sword or a bow. You know I’m able to fight beside any one of your women.”
“We don’t have men fighting beside us. That’s not the way things are.” There was a shortness in her voice, and she gave him a hard stare. “Don’t try to change things, Dave. No matter what they were like back in your world, you’re in our world now.” Then her voice softened, and she said, “Who knows? You may get chosen by one of the warrior maids as a mate.”
Dave yearned to say, “Take all your warrior maids and shove them in a black hole in the sky!” but some wisdom warned him not to provoke her. “What’s the job you have in mind?”
“I’ll show you.” There was a strange smile on her lips, and Dave had learned to hate that.
She led him to one of the outer quarters where they found Abbey standing by a warrior, being instructed in the use of the short sword. Abbey had never been particularly good with weapons, and Dave saw at once that it was a hopeless case.
“Why don’t you let me do a bout with your warrior maid?” he suggested.
“You have your work to do. Take Abbey’s clothes over to those pots and wash them. Be sure you get them clean.”
Anger raced through Dave. He glared at Abbey. “Did you ask for me to be your servant?”
“No,” Abbey said quickly, “I never said a word.”
“I’m saying the word. Take those clothes and get going.”
“I won’t do it!” Dave said. He folded his arms and stared at Princess Merle. “Do what you please—I’m not going to be her servant.”
Merle nodded to the warrior who had been teaching Abbey. She drew her own sword, and the two women began to close in on Dave. “Try not to scar him any more than you have to, Freya, but he’s got to be taught to mind.”
“No, don’t hurt him!” Abbey jumped in front of Dave. “Please let me talk to him.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to him and whispered, “Don’t mind it. I know it’s something you’d rather not do, but we’re all doing things we don’t want to do.” When he still hesitated, she murmured, “Please don’t make trouble. You’ve got to keep yourself whole and unwounded.”
Suddenly this made sense to Dave, who, in his blind anger, had forgotten that he had a responsibility to the group. Swallowing hard, he looked over Abbey’s head and met the triumphant eyes of Princess Merle and the warrior maiden.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll do it.” Stooping, he grabbed up the clothes in his arms and walked away toward the laundry pots.
A group of men was washing clothes in boiling water, and he joined them.
“I’ve never seen you before.” The speaker was a strong young man, at least five ten, which was about as tall as the men of Fedor ever got. He had muscular shoulders, dark auburn hair bound up with a leather thong, and a pair of strangely colored hazel eyes. He didn’t look like any of the Fedorians that Dave had seen. And a spirit of rebellion seemed to leap out of the unusual yellow-brown eyes. “What are you doing here? Where did you come from?”
“From a long way off,” Dave said. He began to stir Abbey’s clothes with a stick, casting a curious glance at the man. “My name is Dave. You don’t look like you belong here either.”
“I don’t. I’m a captive. My name is Gaelan. When did they take you?”
“Just a few days ago. Have you been here long?”
“Over a month. I swore I’d never be taken alive. But I got knocked in the head somehow, and they brought me here. When I awoke, I was tied up. No choice. I won’t stay, though.”
Dave looked at the high fence with its sharp stakes and at the guards constantly monitoring it. “Does anybody ever get away—escape, I mean?”
“Not that I know of, but there’s always a first.” He looked at Dave and said, “You look like a pretty tough fellow—maybe you’ll go with me? Two might have more of a chance.”
“Maybe I will. I can’t stand this place much longer. Where I come from, men are the stronger ones.”
“That’s the way it is with my people. But I belong to her now, or so she says.” Gaelan nodded toward Princess Merle. “She’s tried to break me, but she hasn’t.” He grinned, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face. “I like it when she tries. She can’t have her way with me anyhow, and that makes her angry.”
Merle saw them talking and came over at once. “You don’t have enough work to do, Gaelan? Maybe I can find something else.”
“Of course, Princess. I can handle anything you can give me.”
The arrogance of the young man obviously grated on
Princess Merle. “Very well,” she snapped, her face reddening. She called to one of the guards. “See that Gaelan here has more work. He apparently has time to gossip with the rest of these men.” She set her eyes on Dave then and said, “Do you need more work too?”
“No, I think this is enough for me,” Dave said carefully. He had learned that a little humility might go a long way.
After the Princess moved away, Dave and Gaelan continued talking quietly. He asked Gaelan about the physical possibilities of escape.
Gaelan said finally, “You know, there’s another one that I’d like to see come with us.”
“Who’s that?”
“Rolf, the son of the queen.”
“What’s he like?”
“Well, believe it or not, he’s not a bad fellow. He’s been under the thumb of his mother and his sister and these other women for so long that he hardly knows he’s a man. But if I could get him away, I could teach him some things.” His hazel eyes gleamed with thought. “I don’t know if he’s got enough nerve to run away, though. They’ve pretty well drained him of all the manhood he had.”
Over the next few days Dave grew very close to Gaelan. He met Rolf also, a wiry and small-boned but tallish young man. He had light blond hair and mild blue eyes.
Carefully Dave tried to suggest that, as the son of the house, he might take more responsibility. But Rolf merely stared at him blankly. “My mother is the queen,” he said quietly. “When she dies, my sister, Merle, will be the queen. I help my father with the house.”
Well, that takes care of Rolf, unless there’s a big change in his life, Dave said to himself.
Later he and Sarah met by accident, both getting water from the stream that flowed through the village.
“How are you doing, Sarah?”
“They’re trying to make a warrior maid out of me.” She grimaced. “I feel sorry for Josh. Those two women are making life miserable for him.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I don’t think you do. Marden and Ettore, they’re a pair of vicious ferrets! They’ve had Josh whipped twice already, just for minor offenses. When I protested, they said a warrior maid had to be made of tougher stuff.” Sarah’s eyes glittered. “Ooh, I’d like to get my hands around the necks of those two!”
“Hey, you’re beginning to sound pretty blood-thirsty,” Dave said with a smile. “I wish we all had some of that toughness. Especially Abbey, but she’s just not as strong as you are.”
“I know. I’ve talked to her.” Sarah had opportunity to move around more than the guys did, and she gave a report of what she’d learned. “That Tanisha is about to drive Reb crazy. She’s already asked him to be her mate.”
Dave laughed aloud. “What did Reb do?”
“He turned absolutely pale. You could see his freckles standing out. So far, he’s been too shocked to say anything.”
“Somehow we’ve got to get out of this mess. I don’t see any way of ever changing these people.”
“There’s a way. We’ve just got to find it,” Sarah said.
And then the guards moved close and said, “No talking. Get the water and be gone.”
“I’ll see you later,” Dave said. He carried his water pails back to the queen’s house, where he found Chava sitting with the queen, reading to her from a book.
After Dave emptied the water, he lingered, listening.
The queen looked at him with her cold eyes. “Are you through there? Then be off.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Do you like poetry, boy?” Chava called out.
“I like some of it, although I don’t understand it very well.”
“Good, you can hear some of mine,” Chava said.
When the boy left, Chava said, “He’s a fine young man.”
Faya had been studying Dave. “He might do as a mate for Merle.”
“I don’t think she cares for him,” Chava offered anxiously. “They don’t get along.”
“They don’t need to get along. She’ll be the queen one day. He’ll do as she says.”
“Yes, Faya.”
Queen Faya suddenly looked at her husband, and her eyes softened. “Not every man is like you,” she said quietly. She studied the small man sitting beside her, and she said gently, “I could not have held the throne without you, although nobody believes that.”
Chava reached over and took her hand. “You are a magnificent leader, Faya. You have held these people together as no one else could.”
Queen Faya listened to his words, then closed her eyes and leaned back. With a sigh she said, “I do not know what will become of the throne. Merle must be ready.”
“Your reign isn’t over for a long time,” Chava said. “But,” he then added, “if Merle must have a mate, I think that young man would be a good one—if he could learn to accept a few things.”
9
Yesterday and Today
One member of the tribe that Dave and Sarah found most interesting was Zuriel, the historian. He was probably between fifty and sixty but seemed older. He had a long gray beard and a bushy head of hair to match. His eyes had wrinkles about them but were bright as a bird’s.
Dave and Sarah had found him to be a well of information, and now the two of them had gone to his house and were sitting on the ground in front of him.
Zuriel sat on a low stool, holding a bark tablet. He had put his writing away, however, and for the last hour had been telling them stories of the Kingdom of Fedor.
His knowledge went back past his own days, and he told them, “My father was the historian before me, and his father before him. Some of Fedor’s history is written down, but much of it is in songs and in long poems which we’ve committed to memory.”
Sarah listened with such interest that the old man seemed flattered. She said, “Most of the world away from here is not like Fedor.”
The man nodded. “All places are different.”
“I mean, men and women behave differently there,” Sarah said with some hesitation. “Do you know, Zuriel, how strange this place is?”
His wise old eyes sharpened, and he looked around as though to see if anyone was near. Children were playing close by, rolling in the dirt, and some guards paced along the walls, but no one could hear his words. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “Yes, I know. You speak of how the women are always in charge here and never the men.”
Dave leaned forward. “How did that happen? Did it begin in your time?”
“No, it was before the time of my father’s father. I heard him tell of it, though. I was a mere child, and he was an old, old man. But like all good storytellers, he told every story exactly the same way every time he told it, and I heard him tell this story more than once. Women think that Fedor has always been like this, but it hasn’t.”
“How did it change?”
Zuriel bent his head and let old memories pour over him. Then he began to speak in a strange sort of cadence. His young hearers knew he was repeating the story as he had heard it from his grandfather.
“There was a time when the men ruled over the tribe. The women cooked and kept the houses and bore the children. The men went out and hunted game, and they fought when the enemy came to destroy the tribe.” He went on, describing normal village life such as Dave and Sarah could imagine.
At last he said, “But then war came, and almost all the men were killed. The women took over. One woman was stronger than the rest. She determined to become queen, and she forced the others to accept her. She formed the strongest women into guards and taught them to fight. The few men that were left were old or very young or wounded. They were practically made servants. This went on all through the queen’s life, and she insisted that every time her maidens married, they would rule their households. She taught them the art of war, and they learned well. For generations this went on until today no one can remember when it was different.”
When Zuriel finished, Dave said, “Zuriel, we need to turn this village around
. It’s based on the wrong kind of relationships.”
“I do not know about relationships,” Zuriel said, shaking his head, “but you would have trouble changing things. Change is always hard.”
“Do you think change would be good, Zuriel?” Sarah asked him directly.
“I’m old, and if the queen or her council heard this, they would have me given to the Dark Gods; but yes, I think the custom should be changed. No one should rule to the hurt of someone else.”
Zuriel seemed to have shocked even himself, and then his eyes opened wide. “Do not tell me you are thinking of leading a rebellion. We’d all die in the attempt. The women are good warriors; the weaker ones have died. Now only the strong are left.”
“All things are possible where Goél is concerned. But tell us about this god you serve. This one you call Maug.”
“There is always a Dark God,” Zuriel said sadly. “Sometimes his name is something else, but it is always the same dark power. You must have him in your world too.”
“Yes, we did.” Dave nodded sadly. “But he can be defeated. Goél is stronger.”
“That would be a good thing. I would like to see the end of Maug—and to take Mita’s beads away from her. She is a mean, vicious woman, responsible for the death of many innocents.”
“She’ll be the first to go,” Sarah said with determination.
They talked for a long time, and Zuriel warned again, “You cannot take them by force. They’re too strong.”
“You’re right, Zuriel,” Sarah said slowly. “We’re not strong enough to do that.”
“How can we do it then?” Dave asked in some bewilderment.
“Remember what Goél said?”
Dave thought for a moment. “You don’t mean about love, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Dave shrugged his shoulders and laughed shortly. “I don’t think they’d have much respect for love. All they respect is a sword or an arrow.”
“They may be warrior women, but they’re women all the same, and though it might be buried very deep, they want love. I’m sure of it.”
Dave stared at her with consternation. “Well, Sarah, you’re the expert on romance, but how are we going to get them to listen?”
Attack of the Amazons Page 7