Women of Wasps and War

by Madeleine D'Este

  Agata shifted her weight from foot to foot. 'Good morning, Madame Fidan.'

  'Good morning, young lady. And where are your shoes?'

  'Shoes?' She looked down at her naked feet.

  'It is not proper for a lady to have such dirty feet.'

  'But...'

  'Or to talk back.'

  'Madame Fidan is here to teach you how to be a lady,' her mother said, her breath rattling in her chest. These were the days before the physician found her mother's illness. 'You want to be a lady?'

  Agata shrugged, unsure what being a lady actually entailed.

  'Of course you do,' said Madame Fidan with a tut. 'And even if you do not, you are from the house of Ulvos. One of the oldest noble families of the Neven Clan. It is your duty.'

  Whenever anyone mentioned duty, it sounded dull.

  'Please show me to my chamber, Lady Ulvos. I will quickly get settled and then we shall begin our lessons immediately. I seem to have a great deal of work to do.' She peered down her nose. 'Now Lady Agata, put that dog down this instant. Dogs are riddled with fleas.'

  Agata stroked the puppy's head then put the dog down. She glanced at the bottoms of her blackened feet. The feeling of the wet grass and cool mud between her toes were so much nicer than the hard leather of her boots.

  As they walked inside, the newcomer inspected every inch of the manor's panelled Great Hall, with an ever-present sneer. Agata, loitering behind them, stayed within earshot.

  'You allow her to associate with the servant children?' Madame Fidan said. 'We must stop her running about like a peasant girl.'

  Agata's mother wheezed. 'I know. I have not had the strength. She is a good girl, though. Kind and clever.'

  'Never mind. I am here now. You do not need to worry.'

  'You will be teaching her the sciences and numbers? The Earl agreed.' Agata's mother stopped to lean against the wall, her hand at her forehead, her golden skin ashen. 'I want Agata to learn the things I did not.'

  Madame Fidan pursed her lips. 'We shall start with the basics.'

  Within the hour, Madame Fidan had given her a vigorous scrubbing with a rough cloth and dressed her in uncomfortable shoes and an ankle length tunic. The day had been golden and glorious outside the window, with birds trilling and insects humming but Agata was stuck inside the cold dark Hall while Madame Fidan prodded and corrected.

  'Sit up straight.'

  'Look at your fingernails.'

  'Young ladies do not yawn openly.'

  'Stop staring out the window.'

  The lessons stretched for hours and hours and Agata wriggled in her hard chair. She snuck longing looks outside as the sun began to dip and grey clouds rolled in from the North.

  'That is sufficient for today.'

  Agata sprang to her feet, but rather than heading upstairs to the solar, she headed out to the kitchens to find Yeta scrubbing turnips. The two girls scampered out into the early evening behind Yeta's mother's back.

  'She is horrible,' Agata said. 'She says all these silly things. Rule after rule. I never want to go back.'

  Yeta nodded.

  'If only Father was here. He would stop Madame Fidan. Do you think there will be any raspberries left?'

  The girls picked up speed, running over the fields and past the lake towards the orchards where wild raspberries grew between the trees. They'd reached the orange grove with their branches sagging with fruit, when the first drops of rain splashed onto the dirt. Only then did they notice the darkness of the sky, the clouds veiling the remaining daylight.

  A crack of thunder echoed down the valley and rattled the ground. Rain pelt down, heavy drops hit the ground like stones.

  'Let's go back,' said Yeta. 'We'll get in trouble.'

  They gazed back towards the manor. They'd run so far.

  'We can wait out the storm under the trees,' said Agata.

  Yeta shook her head. 'It's not safe.'

  A slash of white lightning pierced the dark sky and struck a nearby hill. The air bristled with energy. Agata's eyes widened and Yeta grabbed her arm. A second thunderclap boomed across the sky. Rain trickled down their faces between the leaves, soaking their hair and dresses, the wet cold cloth sticking to their skin.

  More lightning sliced the sky. White light struck a nearby orange tree with a sizzle. Agata's heartbeat thumped in her ears and her knees trembled. Hard rain slapped against the leaves.

  'Run!' yelled Yeta.

  Agata did not hear the branch break but she felt the pain.

  When she woke up, the rain still lashed against the glass but she was tucked up under her own eiderdown. Her head throbbed. She slipped a finger under the wet cloth draped over her head and felt the lump on the side of her head.

  'Oh my little--' Her mother wrung her hands.

  'You silly child,' Madame Fidan interrupted. 'You could have been killed.'

  'You have been very foolish,' said a deep familiar voice.

  'Father.' Agata smiled as he had lain his large warm hand on her shoulder.

  'The men searched all night for you.' His brow furrowed, his face dark with concern. 'You were hit by a tree.'

  'Yeta?' Agata said.

  'The servant girl? She ran away, coward,' said Madame Fidan. 'But we caught her. She will be punished. Severely.'

  'It wasn't her fault. It was me,' Agata said, barely louder than a murmur, her head aching with every word.

  'Listen to the way Lady Agata speaks, my Lord.' Madame Fidan continued. 'Like a peasant. The servant girl has had too much influence. We must make an example of the child. Abandoning your daughter this way.'

  Agata's father nodded.

  'But--' Agata tried to sit up but the room whirled.

  Her father breathed out through clenched teeth. 'Daughter. You frightened us all. I see now I have been too lenient with you. Your childish ways must stop. You are a lady of the house of Ulvos and you must behave as such. Your poor mother...you know how fragile she is.'

  'It wasn't Yeta's fault,' Agata said over and over, too tired to hold her head off the pillow.

  'She will be punished in the morning,' her father said.

  'May I suggest that Agata is present?' said Madame Fidan.

  'No,' said her mother firmly.

  'The child must see actions have consequences,' Madame Fidan said.

  'My Lord?' her mother said as she grabbed his forearm, her eyes wide. 'She is only a child.'

  Her father pressed his lips together hard, then nodded. 'You tried, dear wife but you are weak. We have been neglectful in our duties. Agata must learn the truth about the world and her place in it. The sooner the better.'

  'But husband--' her mother said.

  'I will hear nothing more.' Her father had left the room. Madame Fidan followed him, leaving Agata and her mother alone.

  'I am sorry,' her mother said through her tears. 'If only I was stronger.'

  Agata closed her eyes, trying to hold back the throbbing in her head.

  'When the Father finally blessed us with a daughter, I was filled with so much light and hope, I thought I would burst. I told myself you would not be like me. You would be courageous and loyal and strong. My Agata would speak her mind and make them listen. But I was naive. History is repeating as I feared. Please. If you only do one thing for me... do not be like me. Please.'

  Agata had not understood then but those five words had rung in her ears. 'Do not be like me.'

  The next morning, the sky had cleared. Madame Fidan summoned Agata from her bed and marched her to the courtyard behind the kitchens where the chickens ran free pecking grubs in the dirt.

  In the centre of the courtyard, Yeta stood stripped naked to the waist. Two farm labourers held back her scrawny arms as a third man flicked a birch rod. The thin wood snapped and cracked as it flexed. Agata's father stood by the house, his face stern. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

  'No,' cried Agata, surging forward. Madame Fidan grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.

&nb
sp; 'Yeta must learn her place,' Agata's father said. 'She should not have led the lady of the estate out into the fields and left her injured in a storm.'

  'She didn't!' Agata screeched. 'Father, it was me.'

  'Quiet,' said Madame Fidan.

  'Ten strikes, Brno.'

  'Yes, m'Lord.'

  Agata froze, unsure what to do.

  Time slowed down as the muscular man hoisted the switch over his head. The birch hummed as it travelled through the air and slapping hard against Yeta's bare back.

  Yeta's first howl was a sound Agata would never forget. Her friend's scream scraped up her spine, shredded her skin and rattled her brain. Agata covered her eyes but Madame Fidan tore her hands away.

  'You cannot look away,' she hissed. 'This is your fault.'

  Agata saw Yeta's ripped flesh and the streams of blood trickling down her back. She collapsed to the dirt screeching. Madame Fidan left her this time, and with eyes firmly shut, Agata did not see the continued punishment but heard every birch strike and scream that followed.

  Agata never spoke to Yeta again. She could never meet her eyes, the weight of her cowardice too great. She had learned a lesson that day. No one would listen no matter how she screamed.

  ***

  Leaving the cushioned bench, Agata struggled to her feet and wiped away her tears old and new. 'I am exactly like my mother.' She stared at the luncheon spread on the table, her appetite gone. An insect rested on the edge of the jam pot and an idea lit up her mind.

  She shooed away the wasp and traced her bottom lip with her thumb, her eyes brightening as she rolled the notion around in her head. She was no longer a child. Did she want a life of silence and cowering in regret? But thoughts without action were meaningless. Could she be like Queen Magnilla and be the courageous woman her mother hoped she'd be? Defiance invited serious consequences.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sira completed her chores in a daze. She darned hose, mended slippers and polished the Duchess's jewellery, all the while wondering whether the necklace and silver had satisfied Sabet. Fairness was not a trait shared by debt collectors. As the shadows spread and there was no news from the Alleys, she headed down to the laundry to collect the Duchess's Spawning Festival gown.

  The wooden laundry shack, which sat on the edge of the castle bailey, backed onto the high craggy red cliffs alongside the kitchens and the buttery. White steam and cackles of laughter spewed from the open door. Sira smiled a little as she approached, wondering who was the victim of the day.

  Hot white clouds enveloped her as she stepped inside. A pink-cheeked laundress with a large mole on her chin looked up from a steaming vat. 'Ah, perhaps Sira can tell us.'

  Sira frowned. After all these years, Gitthe and the others should know better than to expect castle gossip from her. Secrets were hard to keep from the women who washed the town's sheets.

  'Is the Duchess's gown ready, Gitthe?'

  'We've just heard about Rabel,' another laundress said, pummelling with her flabby arms. 'Terrible.'

  Sira's stomach dropped.

  'That Sabet's a real piece of work.'

  If Gitthe knew, then the whole town would know her sister's woes. Sira rubbed the back of her neck.

  'What a monster.' Gitthe shook her head.

  'What kind of person does that? Their own little one?' The fat laundress slapped her paddle against a bundle of wet cloth.

  Sira frowned, glancing from face to face.

  'She doesn't know,' the fat woman said with a grimace.

  Gitthe placed a moist hand on Sira's shoulder. 'He tried to sell their little girl to Sabet. Rabel got home just in time. There was all kinds of screamin' going on. Half the Alleys heard it.'

  Sira bunched her fists, tighter and tighter as Gitthe's words seeped in. Her heartbeat thundered, drowning out their voices and the foggy room spun.

  'Sorry to share the bad news,' Gitthe said, straining a smile.

  'No. Thank you,' Sira said, her voice distant. 'But she stopped him?'

  'That's what we heard.' Gitthe shrugged. 'Somehow.'

  'Good,' Sira said through clenched teeth.

  Gitthe carefully handed over the smoothed-out gown and Sira farewelled the laundresses but her walk back to the castle keep was a blur. She was in the Duchess's bower before she realised.

  She laid the dress on the Duchess's bed and sat on the coverlet embroidered with eels, her head pounding. She should've been there. She should've stopped him. Her jaw ached as her head whirled with thoughts of how she could have fought off Iwan and Sabet. If only she'd been there.

  Sira slumped. What could she really have done? When Rabel defied their Pa, she made a choice. She set a path for herself and she must follow it. Sira wished the eel on the coverlet would spring to life and swallow her up.

  The wooden door scraped open and Sira jumped to her feet, wiping her nose without looking up. She turned and laid out the laundered gown, smoothing the terracotta silk and inspecting for leftover stains.

  'My gown,' the Duchess sighed, her eyes puffy. She stood at Sira's side and glanced over at her.

  Sira averted her eyes.

  'I see I am not the only one with heavy thoughts. Tell me, Sira. What is troubling you?'

  'I'm only tired, m'Lady,' Sira said, plastering on her obedient smile. 'I tossed and turned during the night.'

  The Duchess grabbed Sira by the shoulders. 'What has happened?' Her dainty hands were stronger than they appeared. 'Do not lie to me. Please. I could not bear it.'

  Sira winced. She'd lived her life in the shadowy corners of the room. People diverted their eyes from her stained face, their initial curiosity quickly replaced by disgust. Such close scrutiny made Sira's knees tremble.

  'I should not burden you with my problems, m'Lady.'

  The Duchess released her fingers. 'I am a good listener.'

  She patted the coverlet and sat. Sira followed, perching on the precipice of the bed, wringing her hands.

  'Tell me, Sira. If you will not tell me willingly, I will have to order you.'

  Sira swallowed, her throat clogged with years of unsaid words.

  'I failed Rabel. Again, I failed her. I could not protect her back then and I cannot protect her now. What kind of sister am I?'

  'What has happened?'

  'Iwan tried to sell their daughter. To pay off his debts.'

  'Ogre!' the Duchess gasped, her hand flying to her chest. 'But she stopped him?'

  'I believe so. I only know what the laundresses told me. That poor little thing...'

  'He cannot be allowed to get away with this.' The Duchess's eyes were narrow and tight, her hand skimmed over her stomach. 'His own children.'

  'What can Rabel do, m'Lady?' Sira slumped. 'She cannot leave him. This is her fate.'

  'To live with a monster?'

  'I should have stopped her...before--'

  'It is not your fault. Or her fault. He is the one to blame.'

  'She chose a thorny path,' Sira sighed.

  The Duchess rose to her feet and paced the length of the room. 'How can they be permitted to act as they please while we are treated no better than goats?'

  Sira wrung her hands. 'We women are destined to suffer. This is what the Scion teaches. Our rewards will come in the Land Beyond the Sunset. If the Father allows us in--'

  'Ah yes, the all-seeing Protector? Ha. Where was he when Rabel needed his protection?' Spit flew from the Duchess's mouth as her Nevenish accent thickened. 'What kind of loving Father allows such injustice?'

  Sira covered her mouth and traced the eye of the Father on her forehead. The Duchess flinched as she realised what she'd said aloud. She spun around, looking out for eavesdroppers.

  'There is no other way, m'Lady.'

  'There are always ways,' Agata said firmly.

  Sira looked askance at her mistress, goose bumps prickling up her spine.

  'I have been thinking.'

  Sira's chest tightened. She'd had her share of terrible fancies, thoug
hts a pious woman should never have, let alone admit to her mistress.

  'In Tramissa, there are women. With special knowledge. Who do not play by the rules of the Father. Who would know how to take care of this problem. Permanently.'

  'Wasp Women?' Sira breathed, her eyes widening.

  The Duchess nodded, lowering her voice to a whisper. 'Some people use this unkind name. The stories are untrue, they are good women. Wise. The Scion and the Fatherhood have muddied people's minds. When my own mother was ill and the physicians could not help, she called a woman down from the mountain. A woman who eased her pain. My mother smiled again in her last few days. We never told my father. He would not have understood.'

  'Wisia,' Sira said, her voice drifting away. 'But it's been a very long time.'

  The Duchess brightened. 'You know one? Here in Ambrovna? Will she help us?'

  'Many years have passed.' Sira shrugged. 'I have to find her first.'

  'They know ways. Forgotten secrets.'

  Sira nodded, slowly at first, her nods picking up pace as she allowed a real smile to cross her lips. 'This is a way to make amends.'

  'And I will help.'

  The Duchess reached out but Sira slipped her hand away and shook her head. 'No, m'Lady. Please. This is my problem. It is best you play no part. You have already done enough and you have more to lose than I do. No one cares about an ugly Singlewoman like me.'

  'We are not so different. You and I,' the Duchess laughed but her eyes were sad. 'I am just the bigger fool. This is one way I can help.'

  'No, m'Lady.' Sira's voice was low, unexpectedly steely.

  The Duchess scraped her fingers down her cheeks and neck. 'But I cannot stand going back to being so useless.'

  Sira pressed her lips together. She had her own troubles without taking on the added burden of her mistress. She straightened her spine. 'I am thankful, m'Lady. I will be forever thankful but I must go alone.'

  The Duchess sighed and patted Sira's hand. 'I understand. But come to me if you need anything. This will be our secret. No one else shall know.'

  Sira nodded and closed her mouth. There was one person who already knew everything.

  The Father.

  A sin in thought is as true as words and deeds.