She glanced back several times as she ran, holding her skirt so she didn’t fall. The man following her did not seem in any hurry to catch up to her, which was puzzling until she realized that he probably had no idea what he might run into. A group of fifty angry townsfolk was more than enough to take care of a single man, even if they were unarmed. He was being too cautious to allow something like that to happen and trailed her at a distance, but still within sight. In fact, more often than not, he was jogging beside the path she had made, not on it. It would be very difficult to ambush him if she had the inclination to do so.
Alright, she thought, she’d lead him as far as she could then. The more time he and his friends followed her, the more time they weren’t following her family.
- - -
The captain of the small Madrausan warship turned as his crewman Shyam came back aboard and stepped up on the quarterdeck in front of him.
“Well?” said the Captain.
“We found them, sir. They are headed north-northeast. Dipak is trailing them and I came straight back as you ordered.”
“Good. Most of our capture teams have returned. Take twenty men and head up the trail after them. We’ll sail ahead and cut them off.”
“Yes sir.”
“Mukesh,” said the Captain, turning to another crewman. “Get us underway. Turn propeller’s at full speed. I want to get in front of that group before they can evade the men coming up behind them.”
“Yes, sir.” Mukesh, turning to pass along the order.
As the propeller’s began to turn after the ground team had been dispatched, the captain surveyed his ship. The starboard mid-aft propeller’s speed seemed to be jerky and inconsistent. He wouldn’t get optimal speed with the constant jerky motion and the steerman would have to steer the ship slightly to port to compensate. “Damn it, Suraj,” he shouted, “How come that propeller is still not working properly.”
“Sir, some of the components look worn and old. Mahesh could’ve fixed it, I’m sure, but he’s dead and I’m afraid if I take it apart, I won’t be able to get it back together and then it wouldn’t work at all. If you want, I could still try.”
The captain shook his head. Damn Mahesh for getting ill and dying on him. He was the only mechanic that he had. Well, perhaps one of these Ardmorran’s that they’d captured would be able to figure out how to repair it. This uneducated lot certainly wouldn’t be able to do it.
CHAPTER 5
Madrausan
Getting caught was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. I didn’t expect to live through it. I didn’t want to live through it. I was afraid of what would happen afterward.
Esther was starting to tire, the fatigue draining her energy quickly as she reached the coastal road again. She broke from the trees and stopped, bending over and breathing heavily. She glanced back the way she had come and saw the light from the man’s torch approaching rapidly. He had steadily started to close the distance between them the longer the chase had continued. He must have realized that she was alone and that no one lay waiting to ambush him. It wouldn’t be long before he was upon her and the interrogations would begin—and they were guaranteed to be unpleasant. She had hoped to continue the chase up the road, to draw it out as long as possible, but she’d been running for most of the evening and her energy reserves were dwindling fast. She needed to rest.
She shook herself. Rest would have to wait just a little longer, she thought, straightening up. She looked east along the road, longing to continue leading the Madrausan’s away and delay the moment of her capture. Instead, her eyes moved towards the Wilstead’s house across the field.
The effort it took to get moving again was substantial, but she managed to start running again, crossing the road, and heading for the house. When the man came out of the trees and saw where she was headed, however, he put on a burst of speed in an attempt to intercept her before she could make it to the house. He was going to succeed, too, Esther saw, a feeling of fear spawning in the pit of her stomach, chasing any remnant of hope away. He was too fast and she was too drained, so she stopped in the middle of the field between the house and the road and turned towards him instead, her breath coming out raggedly.
The man slowed, looked around warily, and then approached her.
Esther had never met a Madrausan before. He was tall, big boned, and heavily muscled, with a shaved head and olive skin a shade lighter than Esther’s own light brown skin. He held a broad, wickedly curved sword.
“I could see that you were female as you were running away,” he said in heavily accented Northern. To Esther, it sounded like he was talking with a mouth full of rocks, but at least it was understandable, “but you’re just a girl,” sneered the man. “I’ll have my fun with you anyway, but if you tell me where the others are, I’ll let you live afterwards. ”
This is it, thought Esther, a shiver of fear running down her spine, there’s nowhere else to run. The fear swelled until it gripped her heart, sending icy waves of panic rushing through her body—like a flash flood in a springtime rainstorm—threatening to wash away her grip on the tiny limb of rational thought she had remaining.
Her mind spun as she tried to think, groping for something—anything—to get her out of the trap that had closed around her. It was then that she spotted the Wheelock handgun strapped to the man’s chest. Surprise momentarily quelled the surging fear as she contemplated this apparent incongruity. Such weapons were rare and horribly expensive. She had spent some time with Marigold’s father discussing the handgun’s design. How had this man come to possess one?
“Where are they!” he roared suddenly, wrenching her attention away from the weapon. He stepped closer and Esther flinched involuntarily. His explosive anger made her heart beat even faster and it felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Fatigue vanished momentarily as adrenaline coursed through her body, blurring her vision.
“I…uh.” she stammered and faltered as the man leaned over her menacingly. She didn’t know what to think! She didn’t know what to say! His face was just inches from her own, his foul breath filling her nose. Its sudden, awful stench had an effect like that of smelling salts, clearing her vision, and in that moment a course of action unfolded in her mind. But would he fall for it? If he didn’t, she was as good as dead.
Pulling together all of the nerve she could muster, she stood straight, then said, “If I tell you—and if I…give myself to you,” she brought her hands up to her chest where the laces of her dress kept it closed and slowly began untying them, “Will you spare my life and let me go?” she said, barely keeping her voice from quavering with the fear she felt in her stomach. She had seen some of the girls in town who wore their dresses with the lacing undone to show off more skin—a scandalous practice in the eyes of most of the older women in Tewksbury—but it seemed to distract many of the young men and she hoped it would have the same effect on the Madrausan.
His eyes looked down at her hands working at the laces and Esther could see a mix of surprise and lustful desire in them. The look horrified her and she began to doubt the merit of her plan. However, as she undid the last lace, she saw that her actions had achieved the desired result. She took a slight step forward, positioning herself closer to the pistol. As the man smiled a sick smile and started wrapping his arms around his now seemingly willing victim, Esther tensed her body and thrust herself up and forward, slamming her forehead into his nose. The man yelled, grabbing his face. She pushed herself away, pulling the Wheelock pistol free as she stumbled back. Gripping the gun in her left hand, she pulled the pistol’s ‘dog’ back with her right, making sure that the pyrite was resting on top of the pan cover just the way that Mr. Meriwether had told her. She pointed it squarely at the man’s chest and fired, flinching as the concussion from the sound washed over her. The man jerked back a step, a look of horrid astonishment crossing his face as he pressed a hand to his chest. His gaze locked with hers, and for a moment, pain and fear mixed with the look of sur
prise in his eyes. He took another step back, turned, and fell to the ground, then lay still.
Esther stood there in shock, staring down at the body of her would-be attacker. She had just killed a man—taken a life and snuffed it out. She could never take that back—never go back to the way things were. Guilt slammed into her like a runaway carriage and her body swayed. She had known exactly what she was doing when she had stepped up to him and enticed him, then grabbed the Wheelock pistol and shot him down. Was this murder? It had happened so fast.
She started shaking uncontrollably, her hands barely able to grip the pistol. Never before had her mind seemed to move so slowly, as if bogged down in molasses. She stood above the dead man, frozen in place, her body quaking. Tears welled up in her eyes. Tears of shame for her actions; tears of sorrow for the fallen man; tears of rage at the universe for what she had been compelled to do. Why couldn’t they just have left her alone?
Her thoughts and emotions were a maelstrom. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slogged step by bitter step through the molasses, extracting herself from the tempest raging within, until finally rational thought began to emerge. The shaking ebbed—receding until she again had at least some control of her arms and legs. No, this was not murder, she told herself. This man had come to maim and destroy. He would have raped and killed her if she had not done what she had. War was upon them now, and with war came casualties. Esther’s innocence was just one of the first of many such casualties.
She looked down at the pistol in her hand, unsure what to do with it. Though familiar with its mechanical workings, she wasn’t comfortable going anywhere near the dead man lying before her to search for more ammunition. Given her current state of mind, she didn’t think she could pull the trigger again at the moment anyway—not even to save her life. Some might call her foolish. Maybe she was. But she just couldn’t handle that right now. She threw the thing as far as she could and turned towards the house. Out of the corner of her eye she saw motion from the direction of town. Turning back, she could just make out an airship’s mainsail against the backdrop of stars coming into view over the tops of the trees. Her momentary relief at avoiding rape and death disappeared and a feeling of panic warred with temporary elation as she realized that her ruse must have worked! However, although she had successfully misled the raiders and kept them away from her family and friends, she had now drawn them down upon her.
She looked around and considered running for the cover of the trees, but the nearest ones were back the way she had come, over a hundred yards away. She’d be spotted well before she could get under cover and she was sure that more men were coming up the trail that way.
She turned and ran towards the house, not bothering to re-tie the laces on the front of her dress. When she reached the house, she quickly stepped onto the front porch and tried pushing the front door open, but it was latched. The door was heavy, and thick. She wasn’t going to be able to get in that way. She looked around. All the windows appeared to be shuttered. She ran to the nearest one, trying to pry it open. It was locked and hinged from the inside. She looked around the front porch. An old wooden rocking chair sat in the corner. She grabbed it and swung it around, slamming it into the nearest window shutter. She continued hammering at it with all of her strength until the chair fell apart. The shutter looked decidedly battered, but still held. Esther grabbed a chair leg and continued hitting it, her hands stinging with the vibration until the shutter caved in, breaking glass. It was easy to pry it open after that. She used the chair leg to clear away the glass and clambered through the window.
Alright, she thought, if I’m going to be captured or killed, I don’t want to look like a girl when they come. Esther ran into the kitchen, looking for something to cut her hair with. She found some shears and rushed into Mr. and Mrs. Wilstead’s bedroom. She found the mirror she had hoped would be there. It was a small round one, but it would do. Moving with haste, she pulled the pin out of her long, dark hair, letting it fall straight. She took the shears and began cutting. Long strands of her dark brown hair dropped to the ground. Esther loved her long hair and something deep inside her groaned with each cut, but the urgency of her situation didn’t give her time to mourn, or even make nice straight cuts. When she finished, she took the hair she’d cut and shoved it under Mr. and Mrs. Wilstead’s bed.
Esther knew that the Wilstead’s had a thirteen year old boy about her same size—he might have some clothes she could fit into. She hurried out of the bedroom and climbed the ladder that led up to the loft. A trunk sat in the corner next to another straw mattress. She walked over, opened it, and hurriedly dug out some clothing that she thought would fit. She undid her bodice and pulled off her dress and underclothes, stuffing them under the rest of the clothing in the trunk. It felt odd to be standing in someone else’s home, not wearing any clothing at all, but she didn’t have time to ponder her discomfort. She held up the Wilstead boy’s underclothes—a pair of loose fitting drawers—then quickly pulled them on, drawing the string tight around her waist. It wasn’t as comfortable or fit as nicely as a more form fitting shift, but it would do. Thankfully, if she did get captured, her monthly cycle wasn’t due for another couple of weeks. At least she didn't have to worry about that giving her away for the time being. Not that she was likely to live long enough for that to bother her again, but she was grateful for even the small blessings. She quickly found and pulled on some trousers over the undergarments.
Although her curves weren't nearly as noticeable as her friend Charity's, her breasts would still give her away. She looked around for something that she could wrap around her chest. She grabbed the sheet off the bed, ripping off a wide strip and wrapping it around her chest. She fastened it crudely with her hair pin. Finally, she pulled a tunic on over her torso and tugged it down with a swift jerk. It was time to make herself disappear, if she could.
There wasn't anywhere to really hide in the small farmhouse. She turned in circles, looking around the loft. It was a small space and she would be easily noticed, then she looked up. The Wilstead's roof was thatched, the same as the Town Hall. She wouldn't be able to sneak out onto the roof without being spotted by the airship, but there would be lots of support beams and she might be able to wedge herself up under one of the eaves outside the window at the rear of the house.
Esther heard a sound and cocked her head to listen. She could hear voices coming from the porch just outside the house and her heart rate picked up, the fearful panic she had felt earlier threatening to surface again. Roughly pushing the panic back down, she stepped over to the window, pulling it open, then unlocked and pushed open the shutters, looking out cautiously. No one was on this side of the house yet.
Grabbing one of the overhead roof supports, she pulled herself out, her feet dangling in the air. She pulled her legs up and used them to close the shutters as gently as she could. Obviously, she wasn’t going to be able to close the inside window, or latch the shutters. She would just have to hope the raiders were less observant and that darkness would obscure her from what little moonlight there was. She turned and let go with one hand to swing over to the next beam. She reached out and grabbed it, then quickly let go with the other hand as she swung herself the rest of the way over until she again hung, feet dangling, but one beam further from the window. She could feel her strength in her arms ebbing, her palms sweating. She'd have liked to move farther from the window, but she didn't have the strength to continue. Instead, she swung her legs up, shoving them over the next beam to support her weight. It helped some, but she didn't know how long she'd be able to hang there.
She heard a large crash as the raider’s smashed in the front door and banging in the house as they searched the place. It didn’t take them long to find her. Esther’s heart sank as one of the raiders poked his head out the window about the same time that someone on the ground spotted her. She heard some laughing and yelling, then after a few minutes, a voice called up to her from the ground.
“Come down boy,�
� said a man, his voice also sounding as if his mouth was full of rocks, “before we set this house on fire and we cook ya.”
Esther was surprised that despair didn’t overtake her then, or that the fear didn’t engulf her at it had almost done earlier. Instead, she felt…resigned. It was a strange feeling. She looked down, gently pulling her legs out to let them hang free. Then she let go and dropped to the ground on all fours. Rough hands grabbed her now-short hair and pulled her up to face a tall man, scars marring his otherwise not unhandsome face, illuminated by the light of several torches carried by the dozen or so men surrounding her. His hair was shaved and he had a full beard. Given the air of authority which he seemed to command with the men around him, she assumed this was probably the Captain of the warship.
He looked her up and down and then one of his men stepped over to him, holding up the wooden log with a strip of her dress tied around it. It was the one she had used to fool the men into following her trail. Esther hoped they didn’t recognize that the strip of cloth was a piece to a dress.
“You’re a bit of a pretty boy, aren’t ya mate? And clever too,” said the Captain, looking at the log, then back at Esther. “Well you can use that cleverness and be an asset to my ship and crew, perhaps as a cabin boy—or better yet, a mechanic’s mate since you’re so clever—or you can sweat below decks with the grown men, turning the propeller shafts. Although I don’t think you’d last too long down there, you’re so small. Which will it be?”
Her petite frame obviously made the Captain think she was younger than she was, otherwise he’d never have considered her for a cabin boy. In truth, if he knew that she was a girl, a lot worse things would have been in store for her. At best, she would have joined the rest of the town’s people on the transports to be taken into slavery. More likely, given the trouble she had caused, they would have raped her and then simply thrown her overboard. Trying to sound harmless and innocent, she said, “I have a keen interest in survival, Captain, and I will serve as a mechanics mate for you.”
Esther's Innocence Page 5