"Maara says I'll never be strong enough to wield a sword," I admitted at last. "She's right. I'll always be too small."
"Listen," Sparrow said. "Small has nothing to do with it. You saw Taia just now. She's the tallest woman in Merin's house and as strong as an ox, but she has no skill with a sword. She doesn't work at it. She doesn't have to. She'll never be called upon to carry a sword into battle herself. Next year she'll go home with her sword and shield and hang them on the wall and be done with them."
"Taia will never go into battle?"
"Taia is the first daughter of her house," said Sparrow. "She'll wear a sword like the Lady does, as a symbol of her authority, but I doubt she'll have to use it any more than the Lady has used hers."
"But the Lady fought in the war."
"Who told you that?"
No one had told me in so many words. "My mother sometimes talked about the war. She said that the Lady, young as she was, commanded warriors twice her age."
"Yes," Sparrow said. "She commanded them, but how could she have commanded them if she had been in the melee alongside them? She would have stayed where she could watch the battle, and her guard would have protected her."
How was it that I knew so little of war when my own mother had been in the midst of it? By the time she earned her shield, the fighting was over, but she must have known the things that Sparrow was now telling me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my mother spoke very little about what had happened to her during the war. She had told me how terrible it was and how afraid she'd been, both for herself and for those she loved. She had shared her grief with me, but she had never told me about the things she'd seen and done and seen others do.
"How did you learn so much about the war?" I asked Sparrow.
"Eramet told me. She heard the stories from her mother and from Vintel."
"How would Vintel know about the war?"
"Vintel was here. She spent her childhood here. She was young then, but she must have been aware of what was going on."
"Oh." I lay back in the grass. "I have so much to learn."
"So have we all."
I looked up at her, and the curve of her breast caught my eye.
"You can touch me if you like," she said.
I blushed, embarrassed that she had understood what I wanted before I was aware of it myself. She took my hand in hers and held it against her breast. I forgot my embarrassment. I supported the soft weight of her breast in the palm of my hand and brushed my thumb over her nipple, to watch it shrivel up again. She closed her eyes. Her face showed me the pleasure my touch gave her, and seeing it gave me pleasure too.
She opened her eyes and caught me watching her. She smiled at me, then stood up and held out her hand. I took it, and she pulled me to my feet. When she started to undress me, I tried to help her, but she stopped my hands and made me stand still, as if I were a child.
Sparrow led me naked into the river and began to bathe me. Her hands slipped over my skin with a light and teasing touch. She caressed my breasts, and I felt my nipples harden. She drew her fingertips down my spine, over my hips and belly, and through the curls between my legs. Then I felt a more intimate touch.
"What are you doing?"
She was the image of innocence. "I'm giving you a bath."
I laughed and let her do as she pleased. After a little while she embraced me and whispered in my ear, "Come with me." Then she lay back and let the current take her.
We splashed ashore not far away, where the branches of a willow tree trailed their leafy fingers in the water. Sparrow pulled the branches aside. There was just room enough for the two of us to lie together under the tree. The ground was soft with moss, and the drooping branches hung like a curtain about our own private bower.
Sparrow lay down and would have pulled me down beside her, but I resisted her. I sat beside her and gazed down at her body. I found it beautiful in a way I didn't understand. Beauty, I thought, is for the eye, but the beauty of Sparrow's body demanded to be touched. Her beauty demanded to be held and kissed and changed by my caress into something yet more beautiful.
My fingers traced the line of her collarbone. She shivered, and I thought I'd tickled her, but when I glanced at her face, I saw that my touch had pleased her. I let my hand explore the hollow of her throat, the curve of her shoulder, the roundness of her breast and belly, the softness of the skin on the inside of her thigh. All the while she lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth half-open. Sometimes a certain kind of touch made her catch her breath or caused her body to move in a way that showed me the pleasure she felt.
I lay down beside her and propped myself up on one elbow so that I could continue to caress her.
"Show me how you like to be touched," I said.
She reached up and took my face in her hand. "Kiss me."
When I bent down to kiss her, she pulled away from me a little.
"Lightly," she said. Her lips brushed mine, then retreated. "More than anything, I like to be kissed."
"Why?"
"A kiss will always tell you how someone really feels about you."
She kissed me again, and I thought I understood what she meant.
She took my hand and guided it to her breast.
"Show me," I said.
She smiled. "I will."
And her body did show me. By the way she moved and by the sounds she made, I discovered what gave her pleasure. I found the places where her body was most sensitive. I kissed her throat and felt her pulse quicken under my lips. I took a nipple into my mouth and felt it change.
Her skin grew warm. She took my hand, and I thought she would put it between her legs, but she had me touch her everywhere but there. She wanted me to stroke her belly and the insides of her thighs. Then she opened her legs for me.
I touched her lightly. Her body demanded more, but when I touched her more strongly, she put her hand over mine to stop me.
"Now you must stop listening to what my body asks of you," she breathed into my ear. "Make it last."
I caressed her more gently, and her body became less impatient. She moved in enjoyment of the pleasure I gave her. For a time it was enough. Then she put her arms around me and drew me into a close embrace. I felt her hips lift, and this time I didn't tease her. I gave her body what it asked of me, and her cries of pleasure echoed in my ears like music.
For a long time neither of us moved. I held her close, while my heart overflowed with tenderness. When I brushed her hair back so that I could kiss her brow, I saw that her face was wet with tears.
"What is it?" I asked her. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter." She brushed her tears away.
"Why are you crying?"
She snuggled into my arms. She didn't answer me.
Sparrow woke me with a kiss.
"Why did you let me fall asleep?" she said. "I wanted to take my time with you. Now it's almost too late."
I looked for the sun and saw that it would soon be time for supper. Maara would be wondering where I was, and no doubt Vintel would be looking for Sparrow.
"It is too late," I said. "We should get back."
When I started to get up, she pulled me back down beside her and rolled on top of me. She gave me a long kiss, and I forgot what time it was.
"Can you come here tomorrow?" she asked me.
"I don't know."
Sparrow grinned down at me. "I won't let you up until you tell me when you can spare a little time for me."
"Soon," I said.
She was satisfied with my answer. She kissed me again. Then she got up and dived through the willow branches into the river.
While we were getting dressed, I worried that we would be late for supper. Vintel would be angry, and the thought of Vintel's anger made me afraid for Sparrow. Would Vintel ask her where she'd been? Would she be unhappy with the answer? I looked up to find Sparrow watching me.
"What is it?" she asked.
Without stopping to t
hink, I blurted out, "Does Vintel know?"
"Does Vintel know what?"
I didn't answer her. She knew what I meant.
"Whether she knows or not, it's none of her business."
"Vintel may not agree with you."
Sparrow finished tying the laces of her shirt. When she looked at me, her eyes revealed her anger and her disappointment. She turned away and started back to Merin's house.
I ran after her. "What's the matter?"
She stopped and turned to face me. "If you're afraid of Vintel, then you had better stay away from me."
The anger in her voice hurt me more than her words. "How little you must know me if you think that Vintel could frighten me away from you."
"Then why do you care what Vintel knows?"
"Because I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid she'll be angry with you. I don't want to be the cause of trouble between you and Vintel, and I don't want you to be sent home."
The anger left her eyes. I was about to tell her that if spending time with me was dangerous for her, I would understand and be glad for whatever she could give me, but she spoke first.
"I don't know what Vintel would think," she said, "but I doubt she'd be glad to give me the afternoon off whenever I wanted to spend some time with you." She gave me a wry smile. "I ought to be more careful, I suppose. I'll try. But I won't let anyone, not even Vintel, tell me what I can or cannot do with my own body. Or with my heart. Never again. Even if Vintel breaks my apprenticeship and they send me home. Do you understand?"
I nodded. I admired her courage, but at the same time it frightened me.
"Let us both be careful, then," I told her, "and perhaps the world will leave us alone."
But the world did not leave us alone. The next day Sparrow stole a moment to tell me she would have to spend the entire day, and most of the next few days as well, making preparations for a journey. In three days' time, on midsummer's day, Vintel intended to travel with a band of warriors who would be returning to Arnet's house. Eramet's people had not yet been told of her death, and Vintel wanted to bring the news to them herself. It would be a journey of several weeks. She intended to take Sparrow with her.
"We won't have much time together before I have to go," Sparrow said.
I nodded that I understood. I tried not to show my disappointment.
"What will it be like for you to go back there?"
Sparrow shrugged. "I didn't expect to see Arnet's house again until I returned with Eramet. I don't much like the idea, but perhaps I'll find my mother there. I hardly knew how much I missed her until I thought I might see her again."
"Why would you doubt that she'd be there?"
"One never knows what may happen to a slave. I don't even know if she's still living."
A hard knot of anger formed deep in my belly. If my mother were to die, someone would be sent to tell me, so that I could go home and say my farewells to her before her spirit traveled beyond the sound of our tears.
"May you find her in health and power," I said.
Sparrow smiled at the familiar words of the ancient blessing.
"Health I may hope for. Power I never will."
"She will find her power in you," I told her.
30. Midsummer's Day
On the morning of midsummer's day I woke early. Sparrow lay at my back, her arm around my waist. I kept still, waiting for her to wake. More than anything I would miss this closeness to her. I smiled to myself, remembering how impatient I had been with my mother when she would approach me silently from behind and slip her arms around me. As much as I needed to free myself from her embrace, I missed the comfort of being in her arms. I relaxed against Sparrow's body and opened my heart to her, to draw this sweet feeling into me against the time when she would be far away.
Sparrow's arm tightened around me, and her lips brushed the back of my neck.
"I have to get up," she said.
"I know." I turned in her arms. "I'll miss you."
Sparrow reached for something that lay hidden beneath her pillow.
"Maybe this will keep you from forgetting about me while I'm gone," she said, and handed me something wrapped in a ragged shirt.
I sat up and unwrapped her gift. It was a bit of soft leather with a thicker piece sewn onto it and a few thongs that I thought must be meant to tie it to something, but I couldn't imagine a use for it. Sparrow took it from me. She held it against the inside of my left forearm and tied it in place.
"This will keep that bow of yours from taking the skin off," she said.
Once she saw that I understood its use, she started to untie it. I stopped her and pulled my shirtsleeve down to cover it.
"Let me wear it a while."
She smiled with pleasure.
"Your gift is in the kitchen," I said.
I took Sparrow into the cool pantry where meat and milk were kept. There I found the package I had made up for her the night before. Sparrow unwrapped it to discover a loaf of the sweet honey bread I knew she loved, a thick slab of cheese, hard and fragrant with age, and some dried fruit. One of the kitchen servants had baked the bread for me in exchange for three rabbit skins. The cheese and the fruit were an afterthought.
"For your journey," I told her.
She was as pleased with my simple offering as if it had been a feast.
We hardly had time to exchange a few words of farewell before we heard Vintel and the others of their party clatter down the stairs. After a quick breakfast, they started on their journey, and I watched them out of sight.
Midsummer's day was not a holiday in Merin's house. The elders withdrew from the household to conduct the ritual of the longest day, but for the rest of us a bustle of activity marked the turning of the year. The warriors who had completed their time of service to the Lady would leave for home, as well as many of the young women whom the Lady had fostered. Others, like Vintel, would travel with them to visit the households of friends. By early afternoon all the travelers had left. The house felt empty.
Maara found me sitting in the shadow of the earthworks by the practice ground. I had gone there hoping to find someone to keep me company, but the field was deserted.
"We shouldn't waste the day," she said.
She took me by surprise. My mind was far away, thinking sad thoughts and missing Sparrow and my other friends who had left the household. All around me were the empty places where they should have been, at the companions' table, in the bower, here on the practice ground.
"What's the matter?" Maara asked me.
I shook the lonely thoughts out of my head. "Nothing."
"Come on, then."
She started down the hill. Then I noticed that she was carrying my bow and a handful of arrows. She had brought only the heavy bow. After I had strung it, she handed me an arrow. It was different from the arrows I had used before. The fletching was small and tight. It had a small stone tip, and the thick shaft was almost perfectly straight.
It took all my strength to draw the heavy bow. I drew it as she had taught me, with a steady pull until my thumb brushed the hinge of my jaw. I couldn't have held that position for more than a moment. As soon as I had the bow fully drawn she said, "Let go." The arrow flew straight and true and buried itself half its length in the sun-baked earth of the hillside.
I could hardly believe what I had done. Although I practiced with the light bow every day, sometimes for hours, I had never before done everything exactly right. This time was different, and my body knew it. For the first time everything had been in the right place. Elbows, shoulders, feet, all had been perfect. A surge of excitement went through me, and my body hummed with pleasure at what it had just accomplished.
Maara was as pleased with me as I was with myself, but when I reached for another arrow, she shook her head.
"That's enough for today," she said.
"Why?"
"Let your body remember what perfection felt like."
She reached for the bow, and I unstrung it and handed it
back to her. Then I pulled up my sleeve and started to untie the thongs of the leather guard.
"What's this?" She took hold of my wrist and examined the guard.
"Is it all right for me to wear it?"
"Of course," she said. "It's a very good idea."
"Sparrow gave it to me this morning, for midsummer's day."
"For midsummer's day?"
"Midsummer's day is a gift-giving day."
"There are special days for giving gifts?"
"Yes," I said. "The days when the year turns, at midsummer and midwinter, are gift-giving days. Year days too, at least for children."
"What are year days?"
"When a child starts another year of life," I said, "each member of her family gives her a gift."
"And on midsummer's day? Do members of a family exchange gifts on midsummer's day?"
I nodded.
"Then I should have a gift for Namet."
I was surprised that Namet hadn't given Maara her gift already. Then I remembered that Namet would have been with the elders in the place of ritual since before dawn, and she might not emerge until late that evening.
"What does one give to one's mother?" Maara asked me.
When I was small, I used to pick my mother a bouquet of flowers or give her something I had made myself. One year I gave her a lumpy sheep made of clay. Another time I wove a scarf for her that unraveled a bit every time she wore it. When I was bigger, I more often did things for her to make her day a little easier.
I couldn't think of anything for Maara to give to Namet. Maara had so little, and everything she owned she needed.
"Well," I said, "the reason for gift-giving is to let someone know you care for her, and if you care for someone, you pay attention to the things she likes. What does Namet like?"
Maara considered that for a minute.
"She likes the night sky," she said.
"The night sky?"
"Her room has no window. Several times she's come into my room in the middle of the night. When I asked her why, she told me she liked to look at the night sky."
I remembered how my mother used to come into my room when she thought I was asleep. She would watch by my bed for a little while before she tucked my blankets around me and kissed me good night.
A Journey of the Heart Page 2