Women of Wasps and War

by Madeleine D'Este

  'I - I...' Froma said with a gulp, goblet in hand.

  'You serve yourself before you serve the men?' He strode up to her. Froma was a tall woman, but he was half a head taller, he scowled down at her and prodded her chest with his finger.

  'I was--' Froma stepped back, dropping the goblet from her fingers. The silver cup struck the wooden floor and plum brandy splattered over her slippers.

  'Making me look a fool in front of my customers? Have you been laying with Vinko while I was away?'

  'Of course not,' she spluttered.

  'Have you forgotten your place, woman?'

  'No...' She raised her arms above her head.

  The first blow knocked the hearing from her ears. She swayed from foot to foot, hot pain spreading across her head. The second blow cracked the bridge of her nose, sending waves of nausea through her whole body. The third blow pounded into her eye and she crumpled to the floor, crushing her lips together to smother her cries. But Danis was unconcerned about the eavesdroppers. This was his right as a man.

  'Remember your place.' He kicked at her. She curled into a ball. 'Remember.'

  'Yes,' she croaked.

  'Irina,' he bellowed.

  Froma covered her head with her arms, hiding her bleeding face.

  Irina's footsteps were cautious.

  'Never mind her. Come and serve the brandy.'

  'Yes, sir,' Irina said with a wobble in her voice and the door to the shop slammed closed.

  From the floor, Froma listened to their laughter through the wall, and all alone, she finally allowed herself to shed a silent tear.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun was almost overhead as Rabel hurried for the Seaweed Arms in the Alleys. The midday bells would peal any moment. With the basket on her arm and the coin pouch and Ma's necklace bouncing in her pocket, she picked up her pace. Rabel gnawed at her lip. Was it enough to satisfy Sabet?

  She crossed the cobbled Square and passed the grand merchant shop fronts to the narrower streets of the craftsmen. The weavers, the carpenters and rope makers had resumed trade after their year at war. She passed a familiar shopfront, the place where her Pa had twisted hemp for a living and earned the coins for the ill-fated necklace in her pocket.

  At the metal workshop, she turned right and stepped into the heart of the Alleys. Buildings loomed high on all sides, blocking the sunlight. Strangers bumped shoulders in the cramped pathways. The ground was slick with filth. Makeshift stalls sold stolen goods and various other sins while shadowy figures stood just out of sight.

  Rabel ignored the jeers and touts and elbowed her way through the maze until she spied the hand-painted sign: an octopus made of green seaweed. Rabel paused by the open door. She'd never been inside the Seaweed Arms before. The windows of the crumbling red-brick alehouse were half-boarded up with mismatching planks of wood and bent nails. Apart from Sabet or the wretches of Guts Alley, this was not a place for women.

  Rabel stepped inside, her eyes watering at the stink of the sour spilt ale, dirty feet and fish. She swallowed and peered into the dim room, which was lined with long empty wooden benches. A toothless woman tended the well-worn bar, where a few wrinkled men sat hunched over their tankards, drinking alone. Three men in fishermen's tunics threw dice in the corner while a mangy cat chewed angrily at his fleas in the centre of the room.

  But Sabet was nowhere to be seen.

  'What do you want?' scowled the toothless bar maid, her voice strangely girlish. 'No peddlers in here.'

  'I'm lookin' for Sabet?'

  'Not here.'

  Rabel sighed. 'She told me to meet her here.'

  'You just missed her. She was in her spot there by the fire. She left with some man. And her son.'

  'Do you know when she'll be back?'

  The woman shrugged and turned away to the next person at the bar. 'Another, Ansi?'

  The pouch weighed heavy in Rabel's pocket but she couldn't trust anyone with the payment.

  'Rabel. Long time, no see. You looking for Iwan?' It was Mirn, a mono-browed oyster diver, a man she and Iwan had known a lifetime ago when Iwan still worked on the boats.

  'No,' she said, with narrowed eyes.

  'He's here somewhere. I saw him a minute ago.'

  Another gap-toothed fisherman at the bar shook his head. 'He went off with Sabet.'

  Rabel grabbed her basket and sprinted as fast as she could towards her shack.

  ***

  The solar door creaked open. Agata straightened, placed her book down and smoothed her skirts with an expectant smile.

  'Oh excuse me, m'Lady.'

  Agata slumped as the Duke's manservant Wladek entered the room.

  'I thought the room was empty,' he said.

  'Where is your Master?' Agata asked.

  'Did you not see him at breakfast, m'Lady?' Wladek said, a sneer flickering over his lips.

  'I have not seen him all morning,' she said as haughtily as she could but the words stung as she said them aloud.

  'He left early with Lord Kalin to attend to some pressing business.'

  'What business?'

  'He did not confide in me, m'Lady,' he replied with a deferential bow. His hooded eyes reminded her of the geckos in her home region. She thought the winters in Ambrovna were too cold for these creatures.

  'If he has returned, he may be in his Cabinet rooms,' Wladek offered.

  'Alone?'

  'I do not know, m'Lady. If you'll excuse me, there are many things to be done to return the castle to normal.'

  Agata waved him away, frowning as he closed the hefty door.

  Two days ago, she had been the ruler of the Duchy. Now she had to resort to pleading with a valet for news of her husband. Where was he? Why had he avoided her all morning? A year was a long time for a man to be alone and the palace of Sulun was renowned for its bewitching courtesans. Had he found another love in the capital? Under the new King, a wife from the Neven Clan was an embarrassment and a burden and without her brother and father to protect her interests, she could be easily tossed aside.

  As she headed upstairs, the midday service bells pealed. Midday was the time when the Father, the Sun, was at his zenith and his power was strongest. All the pious townspeople would be heading to the Temple. Agata avoided services when she could; she could not bear to hear the Scion's talk of women being unclean, unstable, untrustworthy, merely vessels for carrying life. In the lands of the Neven, the women's soil was sacred. How could words from the very same Teachings be twisted in such different ways? Agata sighed again.

  As she approached the Duke's Cabinet rooms, the pock-faced guard at the door straightened and reached for the door handle. She raised her hand to stop him.

  'Is the Duke inside?'

  'Yes, m'Lady.'

  She smiled. 'Is he alone?'

  'No, m'Lady.'

  She pursed her lips and paused, leaning against the door and listening to the raised male voices inside. It was Kalin and the other lords. She chewed her lip. All she wanted was a few precious moments alone with him, a few words shared between a husband and a wife.

  'They're a dirty lot, those Nevenish women. They need a firm hand.'

  Agata flinched. Lord Egid's loud voice was clearly audible through the door. The guard fidgeted beside her. She paused, waiting for the Duke to speak up in her defence. How could he allow his men to insult his own wife?

  But there was only laughter in response. She could even hear Lord Sylwin chuckling with them.

  'And their golden skin. Very tasty.'

  'If you like that sort of thing!' said Lord Jotek with his low rumble. 'I wouldn't touch them.'

  'That's not what you said after the fall of Telan. I saw you in that house. Helping yourself to the spoils of war.'

  'That's different. It is your right after a battle.'

  Agata covered her hand with her mouth. Every maiden knew to be wary of soldiers after a battle. Warnings passed down from mothers and maids about men who forced themselves on any female in
reach. The old, the young, the noble, the peasant, no one was safe. The stories struck fear and obedience into every girl's heart. But was it not just common soldiers and ruffians? Noblemen as well? Even her own husband? Did they all take part?

  She shook her head.

  She waited again for the Duke to put his lords in their place, but she could hear only more laughter, his voice mixed in with all the others.

  A rush of bile burned her throat. She dropped her hand from the handle and hurried away to the privy.

  ***

  Rabel barrelled inside the open shack door, sweat trickling between her shoulder blades and down her spine. Sabet sat at the table with Aula on her knee. It looked like an innocent scene, a family friend visiting for a cup of tea but Rabel knew better.

  'Here she is,' said Iwan, a weasel-like smile on his face. He pointed at the basket. 'I hope that's luncheon.'

  'I came lookin' for you,' Rabel said to Sabet.

  'Is that right?' Sabet tickled Aula, the little girl squealed and giggled. 'Iwan and I've been havin' a good talk. Haven't we?'

  Iwan barked out a laugh. 'Sabet's a very understandin' woman.'

  Rabel's eyes darted between Iwan to Sabet, her pulse racing.

  'We've struck a deal, Sabet and me. A way to clear all our debts.'

  'Your debts,' Rabel said with a shake in her voice.

  'She's a pretty one.' Sabet bounced Aula on her knee. 'Look at them curls.'

  The little girl giggled. 'More. More.'

  'No,' cried Rabel and lunged for her girl but Iwan jumped to his feet and blocked her path.

  'It's the only way,' he said, holding Rabel back.

  'You can't be serious.' She tried to shoved him away but Iwan grabbed her wrists and thrust her back towards the door.

  Nostrils flaring, Rabel came at him again. 'Not my baby.'

  Iwan threw her to the floor. Rabel rummaged inside her pocket and grabbed Sira's pouch. 'I've got your payment. You can't take her. Here.' She scuttled along the ground and thumped the pouch onto the table.

  Sabet's son stepped out unexpectedly from the shadows. He tipped the contents onto the table and a single silver coin rolled out.

  'Where did you get that?' Iwan said, his eyes hard. 'You said you had nothin'.'

  Sabet's son tested the coin between his teeth and nodded. Rabel struggled to her feet.

  'Not enough. I said thirty-three,' Sabet said with a half-shrug.

  'My girl is worth eight coppers?'

  'It's eight coppers you don't have. And this payment'll settle the rest of your debts. I'll leave you alone from now on. In the eyes of the Father.' Sabet circled her forehead with a grin. 'That's what we agreed.'

  'No deal,' said Rabel, her eyes narrowed.

  Iwan gripped her by the arm. 'Don't be stupid. You've already buried two. You've still got the boys. We can always have more.'

  'No,' screamed Rabel.

  Iwan slapped her across the face. Rabel stumbled backwards, a wildness in her eyes.

  'You got a better idea, woman?' he said, looming over her, his spittle spattering on her face.

  'Sell your own daughter? You know what they'll do with her.'

  'I'm the man of the house. I make the decisions. It's a sacrifice I'm willin' to make.'

  'No,' Rabel said quietly but her voice was as hard as a rock.

  'Well, you can't afford the payment and so a deal has been struck.' Sabet handed Aula to her son. He held the girl with outstretched arms as though she was jumping with fleas.

  'Ma. Ma.' Aula squirmed, reaching out her little arms.

  Rabel thrust her hand into her pocket for her Ma's necklace. Sira claimed it was silver. Not enough to cover the whole debt but enough to keep Sabet satisfied for another week. She fumbled around inside but found nothing.

  Her heart thundered as she rifled in her other pocket but it was also empty. The necklace must be lying in a puddle in the Alleys. Rabel's breaths were shallow and painful.

  'Take me. Take me instead!'

  Sabet's son laughed and Sabet merely smiled.

  'I don't need another clapped out old boiler. I've got plenty of them already. You're worth nothin'. Not like this lovely thing.' Sabet eased herself to her feet with a groan. 'Come to Aunty Sabet, my pretty. You're goin' to make your Aunty a good purse.'

  Rabel's belly curdled as she imagined sinful grubby hands touching her little girl. She spied her kitchen knife on the shelf and with shaking hands, she tried her pocket once more.

  'Pleasure doin' business with you,' Sabet said to Iwan, the little girl balanced on her hip. 'Consider your debt repaid.'

  She found a small hole in the corner of her pocket. With a grimace, she squeezed her eyes shut and traced the rip with her fingertip. Something cold shifted against her leg.

  Metal.

  She wrenched her pocket inside out. The silver chain was caught on a thread, dangling inside her skirts.

  'No!' she cried out. 'Here. Take this.'

  She flung the necklace at the old woman's face and shoved past Iwan, pulling Aula from Sabet's arms. The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and Rabel scuttled back into the corner of the room, panting.

  Sabet pointed to the necklace and her lumbering son picked it up off the floor. He handed it over and Sabet wound the chain around her fingers, stepping towards the door and inspecting it in the light.

  'Silver,' Rabel declared, her girl close to her chest.

  'Low grade,' Sabet replied with a grumble.

  'But is it enough?'

  Sabet grunted and gestured to her son. 'Let's go. I'm wastin' coins standin' around here.'

  'Are the debts repaid?'

  Sabet turned back with a grin. 'No. This tat isn't enough. Nowhere near as valuable as her. You want to repay the whole debt and never see me again? You hand over the child. That's the deal. This...,' she said waving the chain in the air. '...only covers payment for one week.' Sabet raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

  'Never,' Rabel replied.

  Iwan said nothing.

  'Your choice.' Sabet shrugged. 'See you next week. Another thirty-three.'

  Sabet and her son left and the shack was silent.

  Rabel sat on the bench, stroking Aula's hair and cooing. 'Mama is here.'

  'You idiot.' Iwan thumped the table with his fist and Aula started to cry again.

  'Me? What kind of father are you?'

  'We could've been clear. But you've gone and ruined it. You'll have to find another thirty-three coppers next week. And the week after. And the week after that. Won't you?'

  'But it's your debt.'

  'I found a way to repay, but you didn't like it. It's your debt now.'

  'A father's supposed to protect his children.'

  'Like yours did?' Iwan snorted. 'It's goin' to take years before we can make any money out of her. And only if she keeps her looks. Not like you.'

  Rabel calmly reached back, her fingers wrapping around the handle of her kitchen knife.

  'Go on,' Iwan said with a sneer, tapping on his breastbone. 'Right here. Come on.'

  Rabel narrowed her eyes. She tightened her grip and her jaw, but she couldn't move.

  'You haven't got the guts.' He scoffed. 'I'm goin' out.'

  As the door slammed, Rabel bowed her head, releasing the knife. With trembling hands, she smoothed Aula's hair.

  'They're not goin' to take you. I won't let them. Ever.'

  Rabel's heart burned as she imagined the pain Aula would have suffered. She pushed aside the memories of her own childhood shame. She'd been able to protect her girl. This time.

  Aula cuddled against Rabel's chest and pulled at her loose curls.

  One day back from war and Iwan had gambled away all their coins and bartered his own children.

  She never imagined he'd come back worse.

  This couldn't go on. Something had to change.

  Chapter Eleven

  Agata threaded her fingers through her braids, her head whirling. H
er brother's head on a spike. The Scion's smirk. The nobles' coarse laughter. Her husband walking away from her bedchamber last night. A single phrase rang in her ears, the voice of her long-gone mother. 'Don't be like me.'

  She collapsed on the bench, her body limp and boneless. Two days ago, she could have helped Sira and her sister but now she was as powerless as they were. Like the tapestry with the Ambrovna eel sigil on the wall, she was a chattel of the Duchy but of lesser value.

  Burying her face in the cushions, she screamed long and hard until her voice was hoarse and every last wisp of breath left her lungs. How could she have been so foolish? So weak? Why had she imagined her life would be different now?

  Agata remembered her eighth summer when she roamed freely on her father's lands. Her father's manor house sat in wild flower strewn meadows filled with piebald cows and buzzing bees, a morning's ride from the nearest township. The sun had shone more in Tramissa than it ever did in Ambrovna. The estate farmed oranges, almonds and olives, and manicured rows of grape vines snaked into the hills.

  Her father was often in Sulun at court, her brothers had no patience for a little girl and her mother spent most of her days in a dark room, complaining of headaches and chills. Agata did as she pleased until two events occurred. The first was the arrival of a governess.

  Agata had been under the shade of the oak trees with the farm dog's golden puppies and the cook's daughter when the wagon rumbled up the path to the house. Agata had run to meet her new governess, her cheeks flushed, her hair loose and the runt of the litter in her arms.

  A hard-faced woman in a cream shift and matching headscarf had stepped down from the wagon, her face puckered as though she disapproved of the country air.

  'Agata. This is Madame Fidan,' her mother. 'She is here from Sulun. You are very lucky to have her. She has taught all the best families at court. Even the Duchess Birit herself.'

  'Good morning,' Agata said with her best manners while the puppy licked her face. Madame Fidan turned her scrutinising glare to Agata and raised a dark eyebrow. 'Good morning, Madame Fidan?'