'Thank you, Sira,' said Froma. 'We understand one another. We are not afraid to do what needs to be done. Take matters into our own hands.'
Sira pursed her lips. 'I did this for my sister and her children, Mistress Plesec.'
Froma's nostrils flared.
The maid shrugged her shoulders. 'It is not my place to judge you.'
'You have no idea what I have suffered.' Froma narrowed her eyes to slits.
'Suffering is our fate as women. Mistress Plesec. I must be back at the castle. Please excuse me.' Sira turned on her heel. 'Rabel will be at the gate.'
Froma gritted her teeth as Sira. How dare a servant judge her? A low born woman acting innocent and righteous, but equally stained with sin. But Froma's smile returned when her fingertips touched the fur in her pocket. The maid was of no consequence. She no longer needed her or the Duchess, or anyone else. Life reminded her again and again she could only rely on herself.
Froma bustled to the kitchen hut.
Chapter Forty
Agata marched into the solar. 'I am glad you could all come at such short notice. I will be quick so you can return to your luncheons.'
Skinny Jadzia and plump Gala perched on the edge of the cushioned bench, arms folded as they leaned forward.
'There is an urgent matter we must attend to...' Agata took a seat alongside them, a flutter in her veins. Sira sat in her place by the wall at the back of the room.
The door opened and Froma bustled in. 'Apologies, my Lady.' Froma's face was veiled but there was an expectant gleam in her eye.
'No need for apologies, Mistress Plesec. I had not yet begun.' Agata's belly lurched. She had considered excluding Froma from the meeting but they were all too entangled now. Her demand for poison must wait.
'Randvi and Karolien are not here yet?' said Gala. 'And Clawa.'
'I did not invite them,' she replied. Gala and Jadzia shared glances. 'And this concerns Clawa.'
'How may we assist you, my Lady?' Froma said.
'It is sensitive,' Agata said leaning forward, searching the women's faces. Could she trust them? 'This concerns the Allotment.'
'I saw them outside the Temple.' Jadzia shook her head and sighed. 'They took my kitchen woman.'
'And one of the laundresses.' Gala nodded.
'And Clawa. I saw her myself,' Agata said. 'Being dragged into the pen.'
'I was there when they took her,' Froma said flatly.
Gala and Jadzia gasped.
'How does this tradition make you feel?'
'Bloody angry,' Jadzia blurted and then covered her mouth. Gala grunted with a nod. Froma said nothing.
'I agree. I am furious. This is a terrible wrong against grieving widows. I am glad, I am not alone. This is why I did not ask for Karolien and the others. I have an idea but I need people I can trust. People who are willing to help me stop this.'
Gala breathed out long and low with a sideways glance. 'Are you suggesting we go against the Scion? Your own husband? The whole town?'
'It's not right, Gala. You can't deny it,' Jadzia said. 'We should help them.'
'But how? Look at us. We're only a handful of women.'
Agata tutted. 'Women who ran this town alone for an entire year.'
Gala chewed her lip.
'We must help them escape. Somewhere out of reach of the Fatherhood and the Master of the Shield.'
Froma shook her veiled head. 'The Fatherhood is everywhere.'
'But the Allotment is not. I doubt the Chief Scion in Sulun would approve. If I am frank, this is a backwards practice,' Agata said.
Jadzia and Gala grinned and covered their mouths like mischievous little girls.
'What about the hills?' Agata said. 'Sira, would she help?'
'You don't mean Wisia?' said Gala with a frown. 'But she's a ...'
'There are too many of them to hide, m'Lady,' Sira replied. 'They'd be easily found.'
Jadzia rubbed her sharp chin. 'Ships leave every night.'
'Would the seamen help us?' Agata asked, eyes wide.
'For the right price, m'Lady, you can get anything you want,' Jadzia said.
Agata had never carried coins but upstairs, hidden inside a trunk, she had a brooch. It was a simple twisted branch made of gold once owned by her mother. No one would notice if it went missing. Her heart clenched at the idea of handing her mother's jewellery over to a street peddler but if the coins meant safe passage for a group of women in need, her mother would definitely approve.
'We couldn't guarantee their safety at the other end.' Jadzia grimaced. 'You know what sailors are like.'
'Could their fate be any worse?'
Agata glanced at her Circle members. Gala and Jadzia clasped their hands tightly, their eyes gleaming but Froma was a closed door.
'What about weapons?' Gala asked.
'I don't want anyone hurt.' Agata shook her head.
'With respect, m'Lady. You can't do this without bloodshed,' Gala replied. 'My brother is a blade-smith. I can get whatever we need.'
'Even with blades, we'll never win with pure force,' Jadzia said. 'We have to be cunning.'
Agata rubbed her forehead and her stomach roiled. There was another option. 'Sira. Do you have any left? What happens with a smaller dose? Is it less effective?'
'Yes, m'Lady,' Sira said.
Agata watched Froma share a curious glance with Sira. Clever Froma understood she was being denied. Agata hoped she could see the greater good, but her stomach doubted it.
'Excellent.' She clapped her hands and forced a smile. 'We have the makings of a plan. Here's what we should do...'
Chapter Forty-one
I prepared myself to return to the Umbaz again that evening, ready to win over the Queen and her court with the Father's insightful words. As the sun was setting, one of Magnilla's female guards arrived at our door to collect us, a sword jangling at her hip. But she led us past the Umbaz to an adjoining building with many-sided walls like a honeycomb.
'Where are you taking us?' grumbled the Cousin.
Without replying, the guard ushered us through a sliding wooden door. My belly fluttered as we entered an open room with a shingled ceiling. Each wooden tile was edged with gold paint. In the flicker of candlelight, the ceiling undulated like a gilded snake. Overlapping woven carpets were strewn with embroidered cushions and oblong pillows of blue and pale yellow.
The queen lay on a long wooden bench, inches off the ground with a handful of her white-haired people lounging at her feet, sipping spirits and eating roasted meat from silver platters.
I smiled. A private audience was a most promising sign.
'My visitors,' the Queen said. 'Sit. Eat. Drink.'
This time, my fellow Cousin avoided the clear fire water and we both took only small morsels of meat.
'Tell me of your day in Meeraq, visitors,' she said. 'What did you see and hear? What impressed you?'
'Your judgements, my Queen,' I replied, my words spilling out before I had thought my answer through. The translator with the white bun repeated my words to the others at Magnilla's feet.
She raised a white eyebrow. 'Our squabbles over land and livestock interest you?'
'Your ways are...different.'
'How are your quarrels decided?'
'By a noble in a similar way, but he is always a man. You are a rarity.'
'Me?' the Queen laughed and shook her head. 'You are the rare one here. I am only the latest in a long line of female rulers. There were many before me and there will be many after me. Whoever the Great Mother decides to birth into my family. The next ruler will be a King.'
'You have been raised to be a ruler.' I nodded. 'Raised as a man.'
The Queen's brow furrowed. 'Man or woman, it does not matter. No one is better. We are all capable. We have different strengths, but all of us are able.'
'But what of times of war? You lack the physical strength to lead an army into battle.'
'Your King fights on the field like a common soldier? If physical strength was
all that mattered, then the strongest man would be your King. Is your King the strongest man? Did he fight all to get his crown? One on one?'
'We are beyond such things. Our King is intelligent. Women lack the...experience... for battle strategy.'
'Are there not stupid men? And clever women? Are there no clever women in the Neven lands?'
I pursed my lips. Queen Gwynfor was known for her skills on the lute but I shook my head at the very idea of Gwynfor spearheading an army.
'Do you know any women? Have you ever known a woman?' The other guests chuckled lustfully as my cheeks flamed red. 'You raise your women to be livestock. You smother their flames. Here we welcome women and fan their fires to burn bright and hot.'
'Our women take their roles willingly.' Heat spread across my cheeks, sweat prickled my brow.
'Have you asked them what they want?'
'There is no need. It is obvious. They want the same as the men. To serve the Father.'
'Is it truly in their hearts? If you beat a dog often enough, he cowers when you raise your hand.'
'They love the Father.'
'But the Father does not love them.'
I jumped to my feet and words gushed from my mouth. 'That is untrue. The Father loves all his followers. He is kind and wise. He looks after us all. He forgives our faults.'
The wiry female guard stepped forward, her blade in hand. I gulped as Magnilla waved her down. The guard narrowed her eyes as she rested back, her gaze like the dagger she longed to point into my heart.
'He does not love women. He uses them.'
'How dare...' my fellow Cousin blurted as he stumbled upright. I placed my hand on his arm but he shook me away, fists bunched. 'You know nothing of what you speak.'
'You call Queen a liar?' A broad-shouldered man said clumsily in our tongue. He rose to his feet, his hands on his hips. The other courtiers glared at me from their places on the ground and I glared back.
I took in gulps of breath as I tried to cool my blood. The Father's love for his followers was an undeniable truth. Despite the q]Queen's ignorance, this was her land and I was a guest in her home. I had to show respect, no matter how much I wanted to retort. The room became uncomfortably still. The courtiers watched and waited, the broad-shouldered man and the guards like cats ready to pounce.
My heart thumped.
'I can see you are troubled by my words,' Queen Magnilla said with a casual blink of her eyes, dismissing me like any other servant. 'Leave now.'
'Thank you, Queen Magnilla' I said, bowing my head as etiquette demanded. I would return tomorrow night armed with the perfect passages to convince her and her people of the wisdom and love of the Father. 'We can continue our discussion tomorrow.
'No,' she replied. 'I am bored with you and your ignorance. You will leave my land.'
My mouth dropped open.
'You may stay one more night. But you will return to your homelands tomorrow. I do not want to hear any more of your nonsense. I heard about your meddling and the commotion outside the Umbaz this afternoon. I have given you a chance to explain yourself, have shown you nothing but hospitality but you do not respect our ways. I want you gone.'
My fellow Cousin lunged forward, fire in his eyes. I held him back but had no one to hold me back. Only the Father. I begged Him for strength and steadied myself enough to speak calmly. I bowed my head. 'I am sad you are not willing to listen to the Father's Teachings. You are missing a chance to learn about His true love and reform your sinful ways.'
The courtiers guffawed and elbowed one another. Even the Queen cracked a smirk.
'But I will not stay where my faith is not welcome. Come, Cousin.'
We walked from the room, our heads held high, the heat of the Cousin's anger exuding from his skin. Or was it my own?
'Heathens,' he spat once we were out in the cool night air. 'How dare they throw us out? The Father will strike revenge on their town and their people. We must send word to King Heribert to plan an attack.'
I rubbed my chin and sighed as my companion blew out his steam. How would I explain this failure to my Scion?
A sharp whistle from a shadowy laneway on my left pierced the air. I furrowed my brow and squinted as a man stepped into the light. It was Borild, the forsaken man from the Umbaz hearing.
'I knew you would come back to hear more of the love of the Father,' I said as he beckoned us into the laneway.
As I stepped into the shadows, a fist struck me above the ear. The powerful knock rattled my senses and sent me stumbling blindly. My fellow Cousin grunted and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Boots stamped all around us. I blinked and as my vision returned. Our attackers were three men and two women. One woman, the size of a child came toe-to-toe and glared up at my face.
'We do not fight,' I said, looking down at her, forcing a smile on my trembling lips. 'It is not the way of the Fatherhood.'
She laughed and replied in our tongue. 'We do.'
Her first blow hit me square in the nose and with it came a shot of scalding pain. She returned with a second, slamming my septum into my skull. The others cheered as her third blow struck me across the jaw.
'Take back these scars and show them what Akull Women can do,' she whispered in my ear then everything went black.
Chapter Forty-two
The meeting in the solar was over and the women went their separate ways.
Sira scurried down the corridor. 'Mistress Plesec!'
Froma turned, her eyebrow arched.
'May I speak with you?' Sira panted, her voice low.
'Ah, Sira. Lying to your own mistress? Hmm?' she said, the smirk visible in her eyes.
'I gave you more than enough...'
'It is mine now.' Mistress Plesec turned on her heel.
'Please. If you gave me back half...'
The merchant's wife snorted.
Sira reached out, grasping her arm. 'What do you want? Please tell me.'
'Get your hands off me. I have what I want.'
'But think of the women?'
Mistress Plesec barked out a laugh. 'You are not thinking of them. You only wish to save yourself. The Duchess would banish you from the castle if she found out you had lied to her. Wouldn't she?'
Sira swallowed.
'Go to your Wasp Woman and get yourself more. This is mine.'
'There's no time.'
'We had a bargain. I upheld my side. Do you want me to have a quiet word to a guard on the way out? Tell him about a certain woman hiding in a loft. I can do that easily.'
'No. No. Surely there is something you want from me.'
The Mistress narrowed her eyes. 'Perhaps...'
'Anything.'
'Anything?'
'Anything,' Sira said, clutching her hands.
Mistress Plesec smoothed the edges of her veil. 'You are the eyes and ears of the Duchess. I want you to tell me everything that goes on here in the castle. Every word, every visit.'
Sira dropped her head.
'You will come to me once a week with a report.'
Sira slumped. Betray her mistress or lose her livelihood?
'Do we have an agreement?' Mistress Plesec raised an eyebrow.
Chapter Forty-three
Watching Danis wolf down his luncheon that day was one of the most pleasurable moments of Froma's life. Irina's goat stew was rich and perfectly salted. A small white mushroom had slipped easily unnoticed into her husband's bowl.
Danis grunted in reply, globs of brown gravy congealing on the bristles of his moustache. He finished off his meal with several more goblets of red wine then wiped his mouth on the tablecloth and clumped back to the shop front.
All afternoon, Froma tried to busy her mind. First, she embroidered a new cushion, gold and green to match the tapestry on the wall but as she bungled stitch after stitch, she tossed her needlework aside in disgust.
She found herself gazing out the window, waiting for the hours to pass. Her eyes gleamed, dreaming of tomorrow, of a future of hag
gling deals with weavers and dyers, of producing the finest mohair and the most glorious colours in all the Five Rivers.
Unlike other women, Froma was lucky. A merchant's widow inherited her dead husband's business. The Fatherhood turned a blind eye to merchant women whose riches lined the Temple's pockets. Men would leave her alone to prosper, as long as she was careful where she trod. And now as part of the Duchess's inner circle, she would not be denied. Blood stained all their hands.
A furious knock sounded at the side door. Froma flinched and tore down the hallway to see Irina opening the door to the bandy-legged balding Master Tveldt.
'This way, sir,' Irina said, hurrying him towards Danis's study.
'What is going on?' Froma frowned. 'Irina?'
Irina cowered as Master Tveldt marched inside, followed a young boy who struggled with a cumbersome leather bag.
'The Master is sick. He called for Master Tveldt.'
'Why was I not informed?'
She shrugged. 'I was carin' for the Master.'
'Stupid girl,' Froma said, striking out as she passed but Irina ducked in time. Froma pursed her lips and bustled towards the study, her heart thundering. Irina prepared the meals. She would be blamed for the poison. Nothing would shine suspicion on Froma.
In his study, Danis lay slumped over his desk. Tveldt rushed to his side. His assistant lifted Danis's big head to reveal his face was sweaty and wan, tinged with green.
'What ails my husband, Master Tveldt?' Froma said, wringing her hands.
'Let me examine him,' the doctor replied. 'There is word of the red death in Ambrovna. We must be very careful.'
Froma gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, making a grand show of her concern. 'We have only been reunited for a few short days. Can you save him?'
Tveldt peeled back Danis's eyelids, inspected his eyeballs and mumbled incomprehensibly to his assistant. The assistant opened the bag and pulled out a glass vial.
'What is that?' Froma said, hovering close by.
'Please leave us, Mistress Plesec. I must be allowed to perform my examination without interruption. Time is precious.'
Women of Wasps and War Page 20