by Sierra Brave
“Young master, home is in the opposite direction.”
“I just have to collect what I left at the temple.”
Malka hooted. “Nothing there. Those women cleaned you out—even the donkey leaves with them. You’re lucky to still have the clothes on your back and your cock between your legs.”
D’Jwan stopped in his tracks. “What?”
“Those women were fierce raiders. They take what they want. Luck smiled upon you that you were happy to freely give what they desired of you!”
He considered all Malka had to say even as the warmth of humiliation burned his cheeks. “How do you know?”
“As I promised, I set up camp away from the ruins, but only a man without eyes or ears could have missed what unfolded when those four removed you from the temple. You put up a spectacular fight. I feared for your life. Took my sword and hid in the shadows, awaited an opening for a rescue. Ah, but the young master needed no liberation, only stamina!”
“You saw that?” He groaned.
“I did!” The old man’s voice rang with delight as a jolly smile spread across his face and he nudged D’Jwan with his elbow. “At least the start but once I was sure you were in no danger, I returned to my camp to allow you your celestial experience.”
“Droll...laugh all you want but you must not tell Grandmother.”
“I will be as silent as the grave,” he answered but before D’Jwan could breathe easily, Malka added, “unless she asks me.” D’Jwan grimaced and the old man hemmed and hawed. “Oh, come now, young master, I jest...I jest.”
HAVING LEFT SCYLEIA and Micah behind to set up camp, Xia and Kepes sat on their mounts as they trotted side-by-side.
“Why are we tracking them?” Kepes huffed.
“Because I ordered you to go with me.” Xia cut her gaze at her friend and smirked. Kepes shot her a look of annoyance and shrugged, eliciting a laugh from her commander.
“You aren’t going to tell me?” Kepes paused for an answer but none was forthcoming. “Are you making sure the handsome dirt slave gets home safely?”
“If that was the case, I would have followed them from the beginning and stayed close.”
Clicking her tongue as she rode, Kepes groused until she hatched another possible answer. “Are we going to raid his settlement?”
“No.”
Kepes pulled her steed’s mane while commanding he halt. “I will ride no more until you give me an answer!” She straightened her back and raised her nose in the air.
Xia giggled, enjoying the rise she had gotten out of her fellow warrior. “I simply want to know where he lives.”
“Why?” Kepes’s voice filled with insistence.
Slightly embarrassed, Xia looked away. She had no desire to answer and wished Kepes would simply drop the subject, regardless of how unlikely that was to happen.
“Answer... We are going to raid them!”
Xia shook her head. “The opposite is true. I have to know where he lives so we never hit them.”
Eyes widening as if they might pop right out of their sockets, Kepes stared at Xia as she gasped. “Losing your edge?”
Xia lifted her eyebrow in warning. “Never.”
“Those other men we spent time with from that rich, dirt-loving settlement of Scythians—”
“They were fun.” Xia interrupted.
“Yes, but that didn’t stop you from hitting the outskirts of their village!” Kepes called Xia on the hypocrisy.
“The two instances bear no resemblance to each other. The Scythian nobles ruling there had once been nomads who became merchants. I bear no ill against buying and selling but to greedily gather so much that they could no longer carry it...sitting their asses down in the same spot every night, letting their feet grow roots and their bellies bulge with fat? Disgusting! I’ll not let them keep their entire precious horde.”
Kepes laughed. “And the fine, young farmer with his manservant and garb colored with expensive dye? He’s different?” Xia tapped her horse with her heel to set him moving again and Kepes followed, keeping up with her leader. “I’ll admit I enjoyed him too, but...” Kepes’s voice drifted off as if she’d lost her train of thought.
“D’Jwan was never a nomad nor were those who came before him. He never stood a chance. Those Scythian nobles turned their backs on our ways and let their asses grow soft.”
Kepes nodded, “Fair enough.”
“There.” Xia lifted her chin in the direction of a dirt path leading to a vineyard. “That is where the trail leads us. We will circle to look closer and then head back to camp.”
Chapter Three
After the long trek home, D’Jwan washed up, crawled into bed and slept through the night and part of the next day, not waking until well past the rooster’s crow the following morning. Even when he awoke, he had no desire to rise. Only the growling in his belly could coax him out from under his blanket. Xia and her handmaidens stayed on his mind even as he attempted to forget them. The day became night, and then dawn came again many times over and those women would not let go of his mind. He’d grown listless as he holed up in his room most days, re-evaluating the trajectory of his life.
Groggily, he stood, throwing on his garments before walking barefooted toward the kitchen to see what his mother and grandmother had served for the morning meal and if they had saved a portion for him.
Household servants greeted him fondly as he made his way. He nodded and offered them salutations. He yawned as he entered the courtyard before crossing over to the other side of the villa.
“Look who yet lives.” D’Jwan’s mother eyed him as he breached the doorway to the kitchen where she and his grandmother were seated at a small table, helping the kitchen girl grind barley into flour.
His mother stood and walked over to the small, portable, clay oven in the corner where she was keeping some bread for him. She motioned to the serving girl, who gathered wine and a plate of figs, before carrying the meal through a small doorway to the dining room. He sighed, following behind her with his mother and grandmother, bringing up the rear. He saw no earthly reason why he could not sit down to eat at the same table where they were working, but his mother insisted the master of the house must never eat in the kitchen where the servants ate.
He never understood why his mother had such a problem with him breaking break with the girls who baked the loaves for him when she never saw any issue with him bending the same girls over the table for a fuck. His mother never said a peep about him enjoying the pleasure they offered to him. After the last few days, his previous dalliances seemed so childish, but without them, he never would have developed the skills necessary to pull off his evening with Xia and the other horsewomen.
Those beauties had haunted his dreams every night since they parted nearly a week ago and even now, he could not push them from his thoughts. D’Jwan’s chest ached when he considered the possibility, he’d never see them again, and his stomach churned when he imagined they might have no interest in meeting him again. As his mother, grandmother and serving girl set his food and drink out on the table, he pulled out his chair and sat down. He dipped his bread in the wine before taking a bite. His thoughts returned to the strong-taste of the fermented mare’s milk he’d partaken of the night he’d spent with the horsewomen as he chewed thoroughly before swallowing. The first taste of the heavy grain dulled the ache in his stomach but did nothing to quench the longing burning in his chest.
“What worries you so, son?”
He looked up at his mother and shrugged. He was unsure he could put his thoughts into words even if he so desired.
“Perhaps the spirit walk did not go as well as you had hoped?” His grandmother tilted her head, looking at him expectantly. She’d been pumping him for answers at every opportunity since his return. “Did my goddess tell you something you did not want to hear?”
D’Jwan simply shook his head as he took another bite. His mother took a seat next to him, patted his shoulder and encouraged hi
m to eat more.
“You were gone so long. You were sorely missed here.” His mother’s smile brought out the few lines on her face. She’d been considerably younger than his father when he’d passed away but chose not to remarry.
“Not so long...two days there...one night at the temple and two days back. I doubt many even noticed I was gone. The farm runs well without me. Since my twentieth birth year, I neither sow nor reap on my own land.”
His mother’s blue eyes widened as she shook her head, her brown curls bobbing. “You are the master of a large farm and vineyard. Upon coming of age, performing such low work would be unbefitting of your station.”
“Nonsense...my own uncle and cousins do such low work in my place every day. I feel a fool, lounging out in the courtyard, pouring over ledgers, and that is when you will let me rather than grumbling about your record-keeping system.”
“You were a child. I had to learn to work in your place the best I could. And yes, my brother and his sons. This land is your birthright through your father. If it was not for your precious birth a mere three years before his death, I would have had no claim over the villa. Your father’s cousin would have inherited everything, and your grandmother and I would have been at his mercy. Without this farm, your uncle would have lacked the resources to take care of us.”
“He has my gratitude,” D’Jwan mumbled as he chewed.
“That is hardly the point!” His grandmother smacked her palm down on the table, nearly toppling his goblet. “You need to understand your worth.”
“I understand I inherited a life I am unsuited for.”
“What could you possibly mean?” His mother’s deep frown sent a pang of guilt to his belly.
“Until two years ago, I worked this land right next to my uncle and cousins as well as the servants. We were equals.”
“You were the only one who saw things that way,” his grandmother counseled.
He swallowed and set his mouth in a grim line. “Such revelations do little to lift my spirits.” D’Jwan raised his cup toward the kitchen girl, indicating he wanted more wine.
His mother wagged her head, sighing with exasperation. “Why this nostalgia? You enjoyed the time with your uncle and cousins but hated farm work! Now you take your father’s place dealing with merchants, wine tasting, and enjoying your villa.”
“With respect, I am not like my father. I have no wish to die at thirty with a big belly and the smell of honey wine on my breath.”
His mother gasped, jumping to her feet. She raised her hand. D’Jwan turned his head to greet the expected slap but she slammed her hand down against the table again. Regretfully, he looked up at his mother’s angry and hurt expression. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the words before she stormed out. He stood to follow but his grandmother blocked his path.
“Grandmother, I must go after her.”
She waved him back to his seat, shaking her head. “Your mother needs a moment to cool her head. Nothing you say will help until she is ready.”
Hearing the truth in her words, he nodded.
“Now take your seat. We must discuss your spirit walk.”
D’Jwan rolled his eyes before placing his elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands. “Please do not increase the humiliation of the experience.”
“Humiliation?” A hint of disbelief colored her voice. “From what I understand, your journey to the spirit realm was well met.”
Lifting his head, he grimaced in horror as he stared at his grandmother’s face. “Whatever could you mean?”
“You mixed the potion and took your journey. No?”
“I mixed the potion. I took no journey. From what I can gather, I flailed like a braying donkey. Four traveling warriors took pity on a drunken jackass and kept me safe for the evening.”
“You remember nothing of your evening in the celestial realm?”
“I remember much but I fail to see how anything that happened that night was part of a divine plan.”
“The Goddess uses mortals to depart her wisdom. Whatever happened was destiny and if you ponder on the experience, you will understand the message she sent you.”
“If you say so.”
His grandmother cleared his empty plate but poured him more wine before leaving the room.
He shook his head, mumbling to himself. “Spiritual message...I think not.”
He picked up his goblet and drank as he walked through the courtyard and up some stairs to a high balcony. From there, he could survey all that was his. His father had left him an impressive home, a decent title and the means for an easy life. Was it evil to want more? From his perch, he spotted his uncle, who waved to him from the field. He was more of a supervisor than a worker but still far more hands-on than D’Jwan had been over the past two years.
“Welcome home, my boy!” his uncle said jovially but soon corrected himself. “I mean to say, my young master.”
“Do shut your mouth over such ridiculous words, Uncle.” He shook his head at the man who had served as the closest thing he had known to a father. “Wait there so we might have private words between us.”
His uncle lifted his hands. “Stay where you are. I will come to you.”
D’Jwan’s nostrils flared but he would not argue the point. Apparently, the act of trekking through the fields and vines he had worked since he was old enough to walk now shamed him.
Upon climbing the stairs, his uncle greeted him well, shaking his hand. “It is good to see you home, my boy.”
“It pleases me to see you too, Uncle.”
“Word of your spiritual journey has been making the rounds among the field workers. Perhaps you will tell me if the tales are truth or exaggeration?” He lifted and dropped his eyebrows.
He sighed. “Malka...the man’s mouth is like a drain.”
His uncle laughed, nodding. “It would seem it is so. Tell me of these Amazons you encountered? Were they as insatiable as Malka would have us believe?”
Nodding, he answered, “Likely that and more. They were like no women I have ever met. They dance in my dreams and weigh heavily on my thoughts during waking hours. I cannot chase them from my head but they were not goddesses, only four alluring...bewitching women. There was no spiritual journey, only a drunk and drugged man fornicating with willing women.”
His uncle’s wrinkled face lit up as he belly-laughed. “Sounds like something from the heavens to me! Forget not luck! Drunk, drugged, and blessed with more good fortune than any man should hope to claim!”
The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Right.”
His uncle folded his strong arms, made muscular by years of hard work, over his chest as he sat under the balcony’s awning in the chair next to D’Jwan’s. Your grandmother has always said the spirit world invades dreams. Perhaps there is a message from her goddess in the dancing of those Amazons.”
He shook his head. “Why do you keep calling them that?”
“That’s not what I’m calling them. It is what everyone is calling them from here to the other side of the Black Sea... Women marauders, raiding settlements, gathering up wealth...they are quickly becoming a legend.”
“Legend...there are only four of them... How can this be?” D’Jwan placed his palm on the back of his neck as he looked off to the side.
“They are expert archers, sit astride horses, and ride better than anyone else. Even men who can mount couldn’t catch up to these women. They get in, take what they want and get out. Most villagers are so shocked to see Amazons they don’t even put up a fight.”
He frowned as a pit sat heavily in his gut like a sinking stone. “Such brazenness will only be tolerated for so long. Are these women in danger of retaliation?”
His uncle tilted his head, running a hand over his graying beard. “There are certainly enough tales of them to get the wrong kind of attention. I heard a settlement of Scythian nobles attempted to lure them to join their village but the Amazons have wild hearts and will never se
ttle down in one place.”
“No, I imagine they will not.” D’Jwan pushed his lips together, the bottom one sticking out in a mild pout.
The sound of Malka’s screaming cut short their conversation. “Young master! Young master!” The old man called out as he ran toward the villa.
D’Jwan stood, waving his arms. “Here!”
His uncle rose to his feet as well. “What could have him so spooked?”
“We need to lock up our stores and see everyone to safety!” Malka jumped as if he were a scared cat while pointing out into the distance. “I saw them! The Amazons were scouting around the farm yet again. They will attack tonight!”
A sick feeling churned in his stomach. Had he led danger to his family’s door? The horsewomen had sent him home with his boots and tattered clothing and had given him food and water for the journey but had taken everything else. He had not carried anything of real value with him and they had certainly shown him generous hospitality in return so the loss of a few insignificant belongs and an old mule had not vexed him, considering what he had received in return. He glanced at his uncle, taking note of the older man’s worried expression.
“I do not doubt those women are capable of violence but I would be shocked if they sacked us. Still, I will not risk the well-being of our people. Instead of hiding everything, we will gather a tribute. Lock up everything else. Put the women and children on the highest, most-protected level of the main house and have our hoplites stand guard. I alone will greet the horsewomen, offer them food, drink, and hospitality. I am confident they will accept the tribute and move on without harming anyone.”
“The idea of you meeting them alone does not sit well with me, my boy,” his uncle began, shaking his head as he frowned. “But the decision is yours. Your words, my will.”
“You have my gratitude.” He waved his uncle toward his task to relocate the others.
AS THE WARMTH OF THE morning sun heated the back of his neck, D’Jwan blinked his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light. His first attempt to lift his head from the table in front of where he sat resulted in a splitting headache.