Abbey shook her head. “I know, but underneath she’s got a sweetness in her. It’s just buried under all that stuff about fighting and killing and what she’s been brought up to be. If you took a puppy and brought him up to be mean, you couldn’t wholly blame the dog, could you? It was his upbringing.”
“Well, you can’t do anything about a bad dog.”
“But you can about a young woman. She just needs someone to tell her some things.”
“What do you want me to do—quote poetry to her? That’s what her father does to her mother, I’ve heard.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Oh, I can’t write a poem.”
“You don’t have to write a poem. Girls don’t expect that unless their boyfriends are poets, but they do like to be told sweet things. Why don’t you try it?”
“She’d shoot me with an arrow right in the head!”
Abbey smiled. “I don’t think so. I think she’s just waiting to be told that she’s pretty and sweet and that she’s appreciated. Try it. See what happens.”
“Not me,” Gaelan said firmly, pulling his lips into a straight line. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself!”
And he didn’t, at least not that day. The next day, however, he was standing outside the house watching some birds circle overhead when he turned quickly at a sound and saw that Princess Merle had come outside. She would have gone by him, but he stopped her, saying, “Look up there. Wouldn’t it be nice to fly like those fellows?”
Merle had not spoken to Gaelan except of necessity. She stopped and looked up. “Why, I suppose so.”
“I’ll bet your father could write a poem about those birds and the way they move. See how smooth they are? They don’t waste their strength beating the air. Look at them glide! Wouldn’t that be nice to just soar around like that?”
“I think it would, but of course we could never do that.”
“The Sleepers did.”
Now he had her attention. “What do you mean, the Sleepers did?” she demanded.
“They were in a country where men flew like birds. Didn’t they tell you about that?”
“No, tell me.”
“Well, you’ll have to get Sarah or Abbey, or maybe Dave, to tell you. They were all there.” He related as best he could the story of the birdmen of the desert and how the Sleepers themselves had been fitted with wings and learned to soar on the updrafts.
“Must be great,” he said. “I’d like to go to that place sometime.”
“It’s very far away, isn’t it?”
“I guess so, but I’m young. I intend to see some of the world while I’ve got a chance.”
A peace had come over the village, a quiet, and Princess Merle stood for some time listening as Gaelan told her about some of the places he had heard about.
Suddenly he said, “You know, Princess, I’ve gotten angry enough at you a few times that I wanted to strangle you.”
She looked startled.
Gaelan fixed his eyes on her. He seemed to have trouble speaking but finally said, “But I know that you’re not as hard as you pretend to be.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” she snapped.
“I just know it,” he said simply. “For one thing, you were frightened when the Sleepers went out to fight the tiger. That’s when I saw you had…well…gentleness in you, and I liked it. It’s something I like to see in a woman. Sarah has a lot of that, and Abbey too.”
“Gentleness is a weakness.”
“No, it isn’t. Your father is gentle, and he’s not weak. I think even your mother has a gentleness. She doesn’t show it much, but I bet she shows it to you.”
Reluctantly, Merle said, “Yes, she does, and Father certainly does.”
“I think I admire them more than any older people I ever saw. You’re lucky to have them for parents. And that brother of yours. Why, he’s got all kinds of good qualities. He’s got gentleness in him too, but he’s strong.”
“Rolf? I suppose so.”
“I know I’m just a servant, but I’m going to tell you something.” He set his feet as if he were expecting a blow and put his hands behind him, grasping them firmly.
Puzzled, she turned fully to face him. “What is it?” she asked.
“You’re the prettiest girl I ever saw,” he said, “and I think under all that warrior stuff you’ve probably got a kind streak in you.” When he had said this, Gaelan waited and was astonished to see the face of the princess of the Fedorians turn pale. He said quickly, “I—I didn’t mean to insult you.” She still did not speak, so he shrugged and said, “Well, it’s the truth. You are pretty.” He turned and walked off.
If Gaelan had struck her in the face, Princess Merle could not have been more shocked. Yet she realized she was not angry. Instead she felt warmth and pleasure spread through her. She reached up and touched her face and found it glowing. No one had ever told her she was pretty—and certainly not that she was kind. Slowly she walked back into the house and found her mother.
“What is it, Merle? You look pale. Don’t you feel well?”
“Gaelan told me I was pretty, and—he said I was kind on the inside.”
A gleam of humor came to the queen’s eyes. “He’s got good eyes. You’ve kept that kind streak covered up pretty well, blustering around—as I taught you to do, of course—and anybody could have told you you were pretty. You can see yourself in the mirror, can’t you?”
“I know, but it was different when he said it. Mother, I feel so funny lately. What’s wrong with me?”
The queen reached out and pulled her daughter forward. She held her to her breast tightly and said, “You’re becoming a woman, Merle. Sometimes that’s a little painful, but when a young man like that tells you you’re pretty and kind, it makes you feel…different.”
“I don’t know what to feel like. I’m all confused.”
“I felt the same way when I was your age, but I’m glad to see it happen. I want my girl to be a woman, not just a warrior maid. I wish,” she said slowly, “I’d had the chance to be that. It would have meant a great deal to your father.”
Later, Merle hunted up Sarah. She had recovered, at least outwardly, from the shock of Gaelan’s compliment. For a long time she talked with Sarah about unimportant things. At last she cleared her throat and said as innocently as she could, “Sarah, how old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Then—did Josh or any boy ever tell you you were pretty?”
“Josh has—and one or two others.” Sarah smiled suddenly. “I liked it too, even though I didn’t always believe it. As long as they did, that was all I needed.”
“Why did it make you feel so good to be told that?”
“I think most of us feel a little insecure. Even the prettiest girls feel that. We had a thing called beauty contests back in my world—”
“What was that?”
“Oh, the girls all paraded around, and judges decided which one was the prettiest.”
“Did you ever win?”
“Oh, no!” Sarah laughed. “I never even entered a beauty contest. I would not have won.”
“I bet you would have. Tell me about it.”
“Well, the strange thing is that the girls who won the beauty contests—I knew several of them—they never were satisfied. They didn’t feel they were pretty, even though the judges had said so. They always went around trying to buy prettier clothes and trying to fix their hair different, and they never felt that a boy liked them just for themselves.”
She went on talking for some time about her limited experience with beauty contestants, and then she asked directly, “Has some young man been telling you you’re pretty?”
Merle considered denying it, but then she whispered, “Why, yes, one did.”
“I admire his judgment. You are a very pretty girl. You’re pretty spoiled, though.”
Merle’s eyes flashed for a moment, then she laughed shortly. “I know. I’ve always had everything I’ve wanted
, and now—”
When the girl broke off, Sarah said, “Now you’re not sure you want those things anymore.”
“Yes. Why is that?”
“I think it’s because there’s an emptiness in all the women of your tribe. They’ve given up everything to be fighters, and they’ve put aside softness and gentleness, and that’s what a woman is, really. We’re different from men. Of course, we’re different physically, but we’re different inside too.”
“How are we different inside?” Merle was fascinated by all this. She had never heard anything like it.
“Well, boys are sort of matter-of-fact. For instance, if I asked Josh what he did, he just gives me the big picture, and I’ll say, ‘I want to hear the little things, the fine print—tell me every detail.’ But he doesn’t like to do that. Women like things like that, and they like to be told nice, sweet little things. Josh is learning, and I’m teaching him how to talk like that.”
“How can you teach him?”
“Oh, there are ways.” Sarah smiled enigmatically. “I’ll tell you some of them.”
Sarah talked and Merle listened, and soon the two girls were giggling together.
Sarah thought, It’s almost like a slumber party at home. This girl is a princess, and she’s been a warrior and probably killed people in battle, but she doesn’t know as much as a ninth grader back in Oldworld. And really she’s sweet underneath all that warrior stuff.
When Merle left, Sarah put her arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll keep your secret.”
“What secret?”
“The secret about who told you you were pretty.”
“You know?”
“I can make a good guess. He is certainly a fine-looking young man. Any girl would be proud to have his admiration.”
Merle stared at her.
Walking home, Merle thought, I don’t know much about life or boys—or anything!
Early the next morning Merle was awakened by loud cries. She sat straight up in bed, and what she heard almost froze her blood.
“Ulla is coming! Ulla is coming!”
“Ulla, the chief of the Londos!” She leaped up, looked out the window, and saw the guards assembling. Warrior maidens were hastily grabbing spears and shields. Quickly she dressed and ran to where her father was helping the queen painfully get out of bed.
“Is it war?” Merle asked.
Queen Faya looked at her, her lips pale and her face drawn tense. “Yes,” she said, “it’s war.”
15
Battle Cry
As the regiment of women warriors gathered, Marden and Ettore stood to one side.
Marden said, “Remember the plan now. Ulla will come straight down through the valley. The queen will be right in the middle of it, surrounded by a few of her warriors, but she cannot survive his attack.”
“And as soon as the queen—and the princess—go down, that will be the sign for us to attack on the flanks.”
“Exactly.” Marden chuckled deep in her throat. “We will be queens before this day is over!”
“And we will rule well, won’t we, Mother?”
The two laughed together.
In the queen’s house, Chava assisted his wife into her armor. His face was sad, and he said, “You do not have to do this, Faya.”
“Shall I lie at home on a bed while my warriors go to face death?”
“Let others go who are younger,” he pleaded. “I cannot spare you.”
His plea almost forced Faya to change her mind, but she knew this was one thing she must do.
Chava said, “You cannot win. The army is too small. You nearly lost last time, and this time the odds are even greater.”
“Then we will die with honor.” She put a hand out to him, and he took it. She held it for a moment, searching his face, and finally whispered, “I would regret leaving you and the children—but I must go.”
Chava helped her to the door, where a litter waited for her. When she had seated herself in it, some of the stronger men picked up the four handles and carried her to where the troops were assembled.
The queen surveyed the ranks of women warriors, and pride came to her—but sadness as well. She knew that before the sun went down many of them would be dead and others would be maimed. She did not feel in her heart that she could win this battle. Chava had spoken truly. Her army was too small, and she knew well that Ulla had a mighty force on the way.
Nevertheless, she roused herself and said, “Warrior maids, we go to fight for the honor of the House of Fedor.”
The Amazons raised their spears and shook their shields, and the morning air was rent with their shrill cries. There was no fear in them, Faya saw, and she was proud again of their strength and their courage. She continued, saying, “Many of us will not see another sun; but if we die, we die for the honor of Fedor.” Again there were cheers, and she waited until they died down. “The enemy is powerful, and we are few, but we will fight as we have fought before.”
“Queen Mother!”
Every eye turned to Rolf.
The queen’s son held in his hand a bow, and on his back was a quiver. His eyes were fixed on his mother, and his face was tense. Rolf wore no armor, but there was a boldness about him, and he looked strong and able. “I will go with you to fight this battle, and many other of our men will go with us.”
Mutters of disbelief ran through the ranks.
“This cannot be. Men do not fight!” Marden cried out, shaking her shield.
“Why do they not fight?” Rolf said. “I can shoot as straight as you, Marden. I could beat you with a sword right now. I am stronger and faster than you. If you do not believe, come and I will prove it.”
If Rolf had commanded the sun to disappear, the crowd could not have appeared more shocked.
Chava came to stand beside his wife, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Let the boy go,” he whispered. “He is a man. He must fight for his home and for his people.”
“Must it be so, Chava?” Queen Faya asked. She suddenly realized that she might lose both son and daughter in the battle, but one look at her son’s face told her that indeed it must be so. She lifted her voice and said, “Let it be so then, my son. You shall fight beside your mother.”
“I will go too.”
Everyone turned to see Gaelan, who had procured a sword and waved it in the air. “I am a slave here, yet I will fight for the tribe. You will not find me behind when the battle starts.”
One by one, men stepped forward. Some had found old swords. Some bore spears, some bows. They did not look military.
The queen looked them over with shock. She could not speak for a moment.
Cries rose from Marden and Ettore. “Refuse the men. It would shame us,” Ettore said, “to let the weak men go.”
“Try us!” a man shouted and lifted his sword. “We will fight for our homes as well as you.”
“Let us go, my Queen,” another cried, “and fight for you as true men!”
A cry went up then from all the men, pledging their allegiance and their love for the queen. No one had done this before, and Chava, holding his wife’s hand, whispered, “Let them go. Let them be men.”
This decided Queen Faya. She held up a hand, and when silence came she said, “We will all fight as one. Together we may be able to defeat the foe. Forward, now, into the battle.”
The Sleepers had armed themselves and were at the front of the ranks. The queen went on before, being carried on her litter. Warrior maids flanked her on both sides and walked in orderly ranks behind.
“It looks like we’re going right into that valley,” Josh said, motioning ahead with his bow. “Seems like a good place for an ambush to me.”
Reb looked up at the sides of the ravine. “I think that’s where we’re supposed to ambush Ulla. At least that’s what I heard the queen say. It seems she got word that he’s coming to meet us right there. Looks about like the place where we took Ulla before. I hope they send scouts out.”
“Yes, there are,” Josh said. “Let’s divide them up into squads. We can handle them better that way.”
The men marched in three groups, commanded by Josh, Reb, and Dave. The tall Sleepers towered above the others, so that they were easy to see. The squads kept in reasonably straight order, and finally they were in the center of the valley.
“There comes Ulla, and he has a host with him!” Queen Faya said.
The maids spread out in a line ahead of the queen, but their ranks looked very thin.
Faya asked, “Where are the rest of the warrior maids?”
“On the flanks,” Marden said. “I will see to them. Come, Ettore.”
When they were gone, Merle said, “You’re not well enough protected here, Mother. They’ve left us with very few warriors.”
“I know—I feel something has gone wrong.”
Merle was suddenly afraid, not for herself but for her mother. She saw that the ranks of the warrior maids were thin indeed. Looking back, she saw Dave, and she ran to him.
“Dave,” she said, “my mother! She cannot survive the attack! Will you help with your men?”
“Of course, Princess.” He turned to Gaelan. “Take half of our men over to the right. I’ll take the other half to the left. We’ll form a circle around the queen. It’ll be hot, but we can stand it.”
Gaelan smiled as he passed close to the princess and whispered, “I still say you’re pretty.” Then he was gone.
The battle took form almost at once. It was good, indeed, that the men had come, for when Ulla’s troops struck, they struck hard. Arrows flew, and there were screams from the wounded and dying.
The Sleepers commanded their companies well. Sarah stood beside Josh, loosing arrow after arrow into the masked men that rushed toward her. They were tattooed and horrible-looking, but she did not flinch. Beside her, some of the warrior maids were falling, and she entreated Goél for help.
Attack of the Amazons Page 12