by Beverly Taff
I'm still not sure whether to post this story as an ordinary story or a transgendered one.
Suggestions please.
So far I've written 17 chapters of None TG substance.
My gut feeling is to write Drustan up as intersexed insofar as he/she turns out to be a bilateral hermaphrodite.
Anyway, here goes nothing.
Beverly.
The Angry Mermaid.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
List of characters.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin The twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
“Feorin. Twins second brother.
Drustan and Mabina followed eagerly in their grandparent’s footsteps through the cool glades of the forest. It was always a relief for the twin brother and sister to escape the arduous duties of the little village where their family had built boats for generations.
Normally they had to work as ‘go-fors’ to their older brothers and cousins as wood and tar was carried to the building shores where the wooden ships were built.
Today, Drustan was being taken by his grandfather deep into the forest to learn about timber while Mabina was accompanying her beloved grandmother to learn yet more about the many herbs the tribe used as medicines, food preservatives and in their particular family’s case, wood preservatives.
The grand-parents had been walking several hours while the twins skipped and gambolled through the glades occasionally stopping at some unusual specimen to ask either grandparent what the tree or herb was and if it was useful. Invariably the answers added to the children’s bottomless knowledge banks as grandmother or grandfather often demonstrated some property of the herb or tree that as often as not had some bearing on their family’s ship building skills or reputation as healers.
Theirs’ was the Acaman family of the Celtic Gangani tribe who occupied the Island of Mon and the peninsular that ran parallel to its Southern shore including the high mountains that isolated their little land from the main country and protected it from invasion by land. They were not a large family but they were a successful one for their skills brought them much respect. Many visitors came to their little village either to buy ships or seek treatment from the older women of the village. The family was well loved and well respected amongst the Celts of that ancient land.
Then the Romans had come with their war and their iron. Fortunately the family’s shipbuilding skills had enabled them to trade with the Romans instead of having to fight them. The lands the Gangani tribe occupied were mainly mountain and forest except for some flatter land on the Island of Mon. The Romans’ main objective had been to destroy the Druid priests and this they had done with brutal efficiency. When the Romans had come, the Acaman family had provided ships and men as best they could to help their Celtic king defend their land against the Roman onslaught but it was all to nought. The Romans were just too well trained and well armed. They were not interested in the Gangani tribes’ poor farmland but they were keen to destroy the rebellious druidic traditions and get their hands on the rich copper and silver lodes that lay under the Paris Mountain to the north. The miners of Mon were closely related to Drustan and Mabina’s family and they traded constantly between each other. Indeed the leaders of their tribes were brothers in law.
Drustans’ father Caderyn was brother to Feidlim the wife of Mogantu the mining chief. Drustan and Mabina had often sailed with their older brothers to visit their aunt Feidlim to deliver a new ship for trading the copper ore and metal far and wide. On these short trips both Drustan and Mabina had honed their seafaring skills as their older brothers indulged them. Indeed Mabina the nimble little beauty whom all the brothers knew would grow to be a great beauty like her Aunt Feidlim, and her older sister Aiofe, was treated like a little princes. Each time they arrived at the north shore of Mon with a new ship the two youngest twins were always made royally welcome by their cousins and their aunt while the older brothers celebrated with their uncle and older cousins. It was always a joyous occasion for the families to meet.
Now that the Romans had returned whence they came it was an idyllic life for the young twins. It was that brief period in Celtic British history after the departure of the oppressive Romans and just before the arrival of the brutal sea raiders from the north.
That particular morning however, it was an ‘open air’ school lesson for the twins.
Grandmother took Mabina under her wing and showed her the herbs and their properties while grandfather showed Drustan the secrets of the forest and the husbandry the family had used for generations to maintain secure and reliable sources of good wood. He showed him how and where to replant oak and pine and yew and ash to get the best yields of timber for future generations. He showed Drustan the secret map known only to the family that marked off the best soils for growing the right sorts of timber and what timber was planted where. Indeed the Acaman family probably knew more about trees and growing them than the few remaining druid priests who still secretly gave the family spiritual guidance despite the Roman efforts to inculcate the Celts with their supposed values of one god and some man who had supposedly died for everybody’s’ sins.
Even Mabina and Drustan could see that the spirits of the forest, (their forest,) had to be understood and nurtured to make the trees grow straight and true or curved and tough to provide wood for the splendid ships their family built. Provided the Acaman family nurtured the spirits and pleased Erecura the earth goddess, then the trees would continue to grow. Provided they also pleased Abanob the goddess of the rivers and the forests then their shipbuilding lifeblood would continue to flow. Forests, shipbuilding and herbs were the familys’ lifeblood. Provided the relevant spirits of the earth, the water and the forests were pleased, they believed they would prosper.
And prosper they did for another reason the Acaman clan didn’t understand.
As ship-builders, the family’s sons and daughters travelled far and wide in trade as they delivered ships and brought back brides and even the occasional groom. The Acaman family did not suffer the strictures of inbreeding caused by poor communications that afflicted some of the other inland tribes. The Acaman daughters were noted for their beauty, grace, wisdom and learning while the men were known as strong, tall, handsome and well travelled, which also meant well educated.
One could not visit the many parts of Britain and even Europe without learning much of others and bringing back new secrets through trade. Naturally they also brought back news and sadly the news of late had not been good.
Great ships had been seen coming from the north. Ships full of men seeking land and wealth; - men seeking brides and slaves, men seeking to better their lot and mainly by the sword.
The visits had started as trade at first. Single ships or sometimes two, had visited lands far from their own mountainous homes, men seeking to trade but also casting covetous eyes about them as they strutted through the rich markets.
Trade they did. Travellers from far places always had something of interest to the local populace. Indeed the Acaman ship-building family had learned many of their secrets through exactly the same instruments of travel and trade. An exchange of a copied sea chart for a new method of smelting iron or bronze was exactly how they had spread their ship-building reputation and brought those secrets and learning back to Lleyn and the Island of Mon.
Now two of the older brothers brought more disturbing news.
“I’m afraid war is coming father.” Morgaran reported to Caderyn.
“Then we must re-forge our alliances with the Deceangai and the Ordovice.”
“Yes, strong armies, but these raiders are clever father. They use fleets of ships and strike before defences can be ordered.
Smaller towns are overwhelmed, put to flame and our daughters taken while the few men fight. They destroy communities by killing the men but worse by stealing the women. Without women a nation cannot grow.”
“Well, the organisation of armies we must leave to the tribal chiefs, but none know better of ships than us. We can build ships to defend ourselves; we can meet them at the doors of Madog, front and back.”
“I’ve seen their ships father. Their warships are fast and powerful.”
“We could build better I’m sure.”
“Yes father. We could easily build better, bigger and faster ships, but who would crew them? And could we build enough of them in time. They arrive in fleets of sometimes forty or even more ships. My sources were refugees from the Corvani tribe far to the north. Their towns were smashed in a morning by a fleet of twenty who had sailed through a storm to do it. These raiders are wild but they are every bit as good as seafarers as we of the Acaman clan. And there are thousands of them, all armed for war. They are desperate men.”
“Desperate for what?”
“Land father,- and brides, - and slaves, then they don’t always return to their own lands. Sometimes they stay and enslave the men, while the women are taken, forcibly. The Robogdii and the Cruithin are arming for war.”
“Why should we help the Robogdii they are nothing but pirates themselves, charging taxes to pass the northern channel.”
“Yes, but it’s the lesser of two evils I’m afraid. If they can maintain a fleet large enough, they can perhaps deny the raiders passage into our waters. We will have to help them and build warships.”
“Warships!! By the sword of Cnab, who will bloody pay for warships?”
“If we don’t help them father we will eventually be next. These raiders are almost unstoppable.”
Drustan listened attentively at his father’s feet as the older men debated what to do. Even the women folk held court for they contributed their equal but different parts to the family’s commonweal. Mabina listened nervously at their grand mothers’ feet as the arguments washed back and forth. Eventually, after much heart searching, messengers were sent to the Robogdii and the Cruithin and the Epidii on the Caledon side of the North Channel. Asking for financial help and crews to man the ships that the Acamans were prepared to build.
Reality can be a great leveller of egos and the agreement was quickly reached. For a year the extra Cruithin, Epidii and Robogdiian men were sent to Lleyn to learn more of ships and sailing. They also cut the trees and Drustan’s Grandfather shed many a tear as he watched precious trees that he had been nurturing for the future cut down too soon to serve the desperate needs of the present. He turned tearfully to the boy.
“There my boy, there’s the lesson; those trees were to serve you and your children’s children but needs must or we are all done for. The wood must be cut before it is really ready to build warships which are a waste. War is ruinous!”
“I’ll plant some more grandfather. Mabina and I will plant the seeds tomorrow.” Durant offered.
The old man hugged the boy and wagged his head.
“Of course you will my child, of course you and Mabina will and it is an excellent thing that you and your sister do, but I’m a feared that all continuity is lost. There will be a dearth of good timber for a hundred summers. Where is Mabina by the way?”
“She’s with grandma in the herb glades.”
“And what will become of your sisters if we are overwhelmed?”
Durant shuddered, he had heard the elders talk of things but he did not understand the words. He had readily garnished the fear such words wrought amongst both his elders and his older siblings, especially his sisters. The grandfather looked down at Durant and wagged his head fearfully.
‘If all else failed, he must at least put these two safe. Of all his grandchildren, and there were many for the family prospered, Durant and Mabina had proven to be by far the sharpest and smartest in a family that survived and prospered by its skills and learning.
‘Yes’, the old man reflected nervously, ‘the twins were something special,’ both he and his wife had realised this as they took them on more and more ‘educational walks’ into the forest.
Later that afternoon as they returned to the village the old man turned to his beloved wife.
“Giana, these grand-twins of ours are special you know.”
“Yes dear I know. Even if Durant is so small he is clever and fast and light, he might not grow to be tall and strong like his brothers but he can handle a small sword every bit as well. While Mabina is so nimble and pretty. And they both understand letters and numbers already.”
“Who taught them letters and more importantly, who taught them numbers?”
“That Roman priest taught them letters when he stayed here two summers ago but the moor who stayed last summer for a full year to share mutual secrets taught them numbers. You remember Aoife brought him back from the Frankish voyage and he stayed the whole winter. Aiofe wants to marry him and he was very attracted to her. She was very impressed with his numbers but she didn’t have the opportunity to learn like the little ones. She understands some of them but the twins have much more.
I would say one of the moor’s greatest gifts was to teach the twins numbers, and I confess they are strange numbers. They are much more powerful than the priests’ Roman numbers. That old priest is a fraud for he calls Mabina and Durant’s numbers the devils work but they get answers much quicker.
“Well here’s a thought. If these sea raiders do break through, we could offer Aiofe’s hand to the moor. I was very enamoured of him for he was a scholarly man as well as a skilled swordsman. He would make a fine husband for Aiofe and she would be safe; far away from these raiders. Best of all they both like each other; I’m not blind dear Giana.
“If we are beaten by these raiders, these twins must become the repository of our family’s secrets you know, ships and herbs.”
“And so we must protect them, that is what you’re thinking isn’t it?”
Old grandfather Erin sighed and nodded as the children returned laughing from the stream whilst struggling to hold a huge, sparkling thrashing salmon that was almost their equal in strength and size.
“By Acamna’s hair! Who caught that?” Grinned Giana anticipating a delicious meal that evening. The water Goddess Acamna had obviously smiled on the twins!’
“We both did!” Squealed Durant as the huge fish thrashed violently again and bounced onto the bluebells of the forest floor as it escaped both children’s arm-locks.”
The twins squealed excitedly again and both dived on the fish. Grandpa Erin took a thick stumpy stick and beat the fish once on the head. It fell still and Mabina struggled to lift it correctly by the gills as she had been previously shown. The fish was so big she failed. Then she explained.
“We trapped it in a pool then moved some big stones and drained the pool.”
“It was easy. Mabina trapped it under her foot and I grabbed it by the tail. Then we both flung it onto the bank. Like Ur the bear.” Smiled Durant.
Mabina’s smile spread joyously. ‘It was nice of her twin brother to share the glory; her older brothers and even her older sisters would never have included her part for they rarely gave Mabina credit for anything.
Mabina loved her twin and he loved her for they shared everything.
Grandfather Erin fashioned a pole with his valuable iron knife and the twins proudly bore the huge fish back to the fortified village and shipyard.
The news in the village was dark. News had come that black sails had been spotted in the northern channel. They had already smashed their way past the Cruithin and Robogdii fleets.
Work stepped up apace to get the first four ships ready and within the week the Acaman clan were desperately trying to teach their northern Celtic guests to be sailors, they were already hardened soldiers. Their main problem was that which faced navies throughout history. How to find the competent captains for the ships without upsetting the sentiments of the nobles amongst their guests. In this they had one particularly potent device.
The Acaman daughters were every bit as skilled as their brothers in seamanship and ship handling. It was an ignominious training lesson for any pompous self important noble to have his ship outmanoeuvred by any one of the Acaman girls, including the girl child Mabina of but ten summers. The lessons were quickly learned after that and within a fortnight the little Acaman fleet of but eight ships put forth bravely to see what damage they could limit.
They joined with some allies from the Deceangli, the Setantii and the Novantae tribes but the other Celtic ships were little more than trading ships taken up for an emergency defence and there was no way that the little flotilla could ever hope to destroy the Norse raiding fleet. The Celtic trading ships were but bluff fat tubs whose sea-keeping qualities were paramount. The best they could do was to provide a sea train of logistics to supply the little Acaman ships as they played cat and mouse with the powerful Norse fleet. The Acaman ships being very much the mice.
The one good thing however was that they hampered the ambitions of the Norsemen who had expected little or no opposition throughout the Celtic Sea after having smashed their way passed the only perceived obstacle, namely the pirate fleets of the Cruithin and Robogdii tribes. Several small but very violent skirmishes taught the Viking raiders to respect the fast light craft who always kept a safe distance whilst shooting arrows down on the more heavily armed Viking ships and men.
In the only incidence of one of the Viking war ships actually reaching an Acaman ship they had the most unpleasant experience of meeting with a boat-load of angry bitter Cruithin and Robogdii men who had felt humiliated by the Viking breakthrough of the north channel and their not having been there to help their brothers. The Vikings suddenly found themselves confronted not by some frightened half-hearted crew of pressed men but a whole hornet’s nest of enraged Celts. The upshot was that because of the speed and manoeuvrability of the Acaman boats they managed to cut out this particular Viking longboat as night closed in. Because of their better local knowledge, dawn came to find the Norse fleet one ship short and not a Celtic sail in sight.
Forced to reconsider their strategy, the Vikings decided to cut short the Viking expedition for that summer and return the next year. For the Celts and particularly the Acaman family it had been a successful holding action but a concerted action was needed by all the tribes and the Roman occupancy had left bitter feuds amongst the Britons. Nevertheless, news of the modest success of the Gangani tribe, small as it was, at least brought some hope to the Celtic tribes who bordered the Sea. A modest force was gathering at the doors of Madog and six more ships were a'building while many lessons were being learned about the captured Viking Long-boat.
The Acaman family were reluctantly forced to conclude that despite having the skills to reproduce another like it, even better than it, they didn’t have sufficient wood. Tall pine trees were scarce in their lands but tough, oak grew in abundance. Their ships would have to continue being small, light and manoeuvrable. At least the oak timbers made their little ships much stronger and this would prove to be a rude awakening for the next Norse raiders. The little Celtic warships could put a lot more sail loading on the hard oak fittings and they could fight in a much rougher seaway. One thing they did learn from the Viking longship was that the Viking oars made the ships virtually invincible in calm summer seas and the high narrow prows were excellent for cleaving the waves. To address these clear advantages that the long ships had, the Acaman ships were out before winter was over, scouring the mountainous stormy seas for any sign of Norse sail. And this time they were prepared to fight.
Lessons had been well learned and meritous proven captains were now available from the first season of battle.
As the winter storms turned to spring gales and finally to summer breezes and zephyrs, the Viking war ships finally arrived from their northern lairs. It was time to gather the Celtic fleet and once again adopt the same tactics as the Norse raiders used, namely hit and run
In winds of any force the Celtic ships proved faster and handier so the Tribesmen knew they had the advantage when it came to maintaining patrols and possible attacking a Viking longboat on its own but the Vikings had learned their lessons as well. Although they split their fleets they never split them up too small. The Celts rarely encountered a Viking squadron of less than ten ships.
The only choice of battle the Celts had was to stalk the Viking fleets and monitor them until they attacked a town or city. Then, while the raiders were ashore, the Celtic ships could sweep in, attack the undermanned longboats and escape again but even this tactic was eventually nullified. The Vikings ceased going on small raids and only attacked in force. The massed ranks of the whole fleet would attack the town while the crews of only half the ships went ashore on the raids. Several longboats would stand off with oars at the ready to fend off any forays by the Acaman designed boats. The Celtic boats were reduced to ‘snapping at the heels’ of the Viking longships while there was always the terrible threat of a longboat breaking out of the defensive wall and snatching a Celtic boat that had strayed too close. Men with oars over a short dash could easily capture a sailing ship forced to work close hauled. However if a long ship did ‘break out’ it also ran the risk of falling foul of the ‘angry bees’. It was something of a ‘Stale mate’ but at least the patrolling Celtic ships enabled towns and cities under threat to garnish advanced warnings of the Viking proximity and get their women folk ‘into the hills.’
This is chapter 2 of Angry Mermaid. So far no transgendered elements have been necessary for these early chapters. If I do move into a TG theme It will be on or about the 5th chapter, - I think!
Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Beverly.
The Angry Mermaid 2
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin The twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
“Feorin. Twins second brother.
While Caderyn and the older brothers played their desperate ‘Cat-and-mouse’ tactics with the Viking long ships, Duran was forced to stay kicking his heels at the fortified village of Lleyn where the remaining male members of the family were desperately building more boats whilst simultaneously struggling to find a reliable source of tall pine timber to make the long planks. Then they had to bring the logs to the village to build another long ship resembling the lines of the captured Viking warship. Once the older craftsmen had the lines and shape in their eye they started building. At the same time Duran and Mabina worked like Trojans doing the fetching and carrying of assorted materials. It was all hands to the pumps for the whole community as they slowly built a second ship resembling the Viking warship. At the end of that terrible summer, the remains of the Celtic fleet returned to their scattered bases so that the crews could help to gather in what harvest they could. Despite fighting for their very survival the Celts still had to feed themselves through the winter. Fortunately, it had been a good harvest in the Erin lands and by dint of honest brotherly co-operation; there was just about food enough to go around the tribes. Every Celt on the Celtic sea had cause to be thankful.
Yes towns had been burned and women stolen, but the efforts of the little fleet had not gone unappreciated. The ravages on the Celtic Sea were as nothing compared with the disaters coming from the sea on the Eastern side of Britain. Nevertheless, the inroads onto their resources had cost them dear. It was going to be a long hungry winter for many hours labour in the fields had been lost to necessary ship patrols. For though there was food enough, it was just enough; just!
In the winter months the whole of the Acaman clan devoted effort to completing the copy of the Viking long ship and they invited the other tribes to visit them and study the ship for military flaws. There were few. The Norsemen had learned their lessons well and the design had been battle tested. Other tribes also sent men to help and learn the shipbuilding skills for it was quickly realised that the only way the sea raiders could be stopped was meeting them on the sea. Their tactic was foolproof when dealing with land armies. A whole army of thousands of men could be easily transported by ships and delivered to a select point anywhere on the coast and then set up a defensible base that could be supplied by sea. Meanwhile the land armies of the Celtic tribes would have to march over miles of difficult country to meet with them in battle, and the Vikings were formidable foes.
As winter closed in the work on the ship building slowed down. Short hours and cold wet weather demoralised men and left materials wet and unusable. The tribes returned to their own bases for the Acaman clan could not hope to feed the gangs of men if they were idle.
The only place where boatbuilding continued was in Grandfather Erin’s own private boat house. Here he used spare time and recycled materials teaching Duran and Mabina essential skills and crafts as they built a small replica of the long ship for the children to practice with in the sheltered waters of Madogs’ channel. In the warmth and the dry of the small covered building hall the min-long-ship grew apace.
The fortified Gangani village of Lleyn was not idle however. Throughout the winter shipping patrols came and went as the wild winter storms vented their fury on the boats and they had to constantly return for repair and maintenance. However the second hard winter of such patrols brought forth more hardened experienced seamen to man the battle stations during the summer.
Meanwhile in the little boat house, Duran and Mabina’s little long ship was finally ready. The Children were already skilled sailors so Grandfather Erin was happy to let them take the boat out after one trial voyage with him at the helm. The boat proved to be a splendid sea keeper. The decks remained dry in all but the worst storms.
The little boat was a revelation to all. It’s short length coupled with its unusual lines made it unbelievably fast. Many times Erin, Caderyn and Morgaran stared in wonder as Duran and Mabina put the little craft through its paces and careened across the bay.
“I do believe that thing could beat a long ship with the whole crew pulling on its oars.” Gasped Morgaran, as he shook his head in wonder.
“Are you serious son?” Asked Caderyn as his mind ticked thoughtfully.
“Yes father, what do you think grand-dad?”
“You may be right lad, (Like all grandparents he still considered his full grown grandson to be a ‘lad’.)
“We will have to test it,” Persisted Morgaran. As soon as we have enough men to man the long ship we can try it. You might have hit upon something new grand-dad.”
“It wasn’t me lad, it was your younger brother and sister, the twins. They fashioned the hull. It was built that way because those were the only planks we could use. Off-cuts and waste wood. I only did it as a lesson to train the twins quickly while the building slips were idle.”
“Well whatever it is dad,” Caderyn added, “it’s doing something special, just look at that.”
The three generations gazed at the little craft and wondered. With Duran holding onto the steering oar for grim death and Mabina tightening up the footing of the Flaxen sail as tight as her little hands could tun the windlas; the craft was gathering pace even as they watched.
Then they had to slacken off the sail as Drustan called Mabina.
“I can’t hold her up to wind anymore. We’ll have to gybe her and bring the wind through her stern.”
Reluctantly Mabina slackened off the windlass pole she had twisted through the main sheet and prepared to turn the sail to collect the wind as soon as the wind was available from the other beam. It was a heavy spar and despite the light flaxen sail, she struggled with it.
Finally the children reached their objective of weathering the little craft around the dangerous reef that marked one edge of the channel and they had the little boat heading comfortably out to sea. Both of them now had a chance to take it easy as the boat beat up to windward. The children were excited for they knew they had a winner in the little craft. Drustan handed the helm to his sister as he went forward to study the sail and estimate the leeway the shallow-draughted craft was making.
“She makes a lot of leeway sis.”
Mabina looked aft and nodded. She wondered if the boat might not fare better with some sort of lee board like their trading ships to hold her up to wind. The trouble was, leeboards tended to hamper the manoeuvrability and were a devil of a job to raise and lower. The two twins acting together would have trouble slipping a heavy leeboard over the side.
‘Why do they have to be so heavy?’ She asked herself. “Anyway, warships didn’t have them because they got in the way of the oars and they were vulnerable when the ships ran up the beach.
She was musing on the conundrum when Drustan caught her eye.
“Whatch’a thinking.”
“Why does the leeboard have to be rigged over the side?”
“Cos it’s the only place it’ll go, why?”
Mabinas’ eyes drifted absently to the mast footing where the large oaken ‘chair’ spread the weight and force of the mast along the keel. Their boat was light and Mabina wondered if the top of the footing chair was above the water line outside their little boat. When they got back to the village, she would check.
For an hour or so the twins took it in turns to put the boat through its paces. They sailed up and down the bay and lost track of time. As they appeared to play, Grandfather Erin became concerned and he turned to his grandson.
“If those two don’t return soon they’ll not be able to stem the tide. We have the full moon now.”
Morgaran studied the bay but the fresh breeze destroyed any telltale of the tide turning. However Morgaran knew his grandfather was right. Another hour passed and still the twins appeared to play and by now the tide was definitely turning. Already the rip was showing over the channel reef and the Swilly was beginning to call. Morgaran studied the whirl that would soon turn to a sucking vortex that was danger to larger ships and death to small boats. He cursed silently as he turned to his concerned grandfather.
“They won’t be able to get back until after nightfall now. The Swilly is calling.”
“Well they know the dangers perfectly well. They’ll be going to bed without supper, - both of them.” Snapped the old man as nervousness took hold of his mood.
Another hour passed and Morgaran had stepped onto the now drying rock that had earlier been covered by the tide. He watched the outgoing tide sucking and gurgling past before it ripped into the whirlpool that was now beginning to growl. Everybody in the village knew of its danger and everybody knew to avoid the ebb tide after a quarter of the tide had dropped. That was when it was at its strongest and most dangerous. The village had rigid rules about playing on the Swilly reef while the Swilly whirl was angry. Morgaran had arrived there with a rope in case the twins had forgotten about the vicious vortex.
Then his worst fears were compounded. He looked up and saw the little boat creaming over the waves as the onshore wind bore it along like a falcon in it's final screaming stoop.
‘The little bloody fools! Haven't they bloody learned?’ He cursed as he called out to his other brothers to join on the rock in case they could do something when the boat was caught in the rip as it was assuredly bound to do. Everybody knew the danger and the rescue plan that had occasionally worked before. Morgaran thought it the only hope for the children and he prayed to Nodens the Sea God to be kind.
‘ Noden oh Noden! They are but children oh lord of the sea. Please spare them!’
Onwards the little boat sped until Morgaran concluded they were in ear-shot.
‘There’s still time, the ebb will take them out again if I can just warn them.’ Morgaran fretted.
But the twins seemed to ignore Morgarans' desperate calls. As Drustan appeared to be straining at the steering oar, Mabinas’ knuckles showed white on the bar-tight mainsheet.
Morgaran stared fascinated by the sheer speed of the approach. Despite the ebb racing against them, the twins had the little boat racing towards the harbour mouth like a galloping horse. It met each breaking wave of the rip then reared upwards like a horse jumping before plunging again wildly into the following trough. Even yet with the short, tide-ripped, following sea, the boat was holding its course steady for the north side of the channel while on the Southern Side the Swilly was now beginning to roar its malcious anger.
Morgaran stopped shouting for his voice was hoarse with calling and his throat was sore. Now he stood transfixed as did his brothers on the other side each with their rescue ropes hanging loose and useless at their sides. Morgaran heard the footfall behind him as his father and grandfather rushed to join him. He was too mesmerised by the boats speed to turn and acknowledge his elders. It was his father who broke the fearful silence.
“I believe they have enough speed to defeat the beast.”
Morgarans’ shoulders fell with relief. He had been thinking the same desperate thought but too afraid to temp Nordens' wrath by voicing it. He turned almost with tears of relief as his father and grandfather joined his side.
“I think your right dad, - grandpa; what do you think?”
“It’s looking better with every wave they cover. Just look at that thing, she’s flying like a stooping falcon!”
“It’s fast grand-pa; I’ve never seen anything so fast.”
With that the little boat screamed past the three men with a bone in her teeth and a regular ‘thump, - thump, - thump, as the hull literally ‘bounced’ over each short steep wave of the break in the harbour mouth. As the twins squeals of fearless laughter echoed across both sides of the harbour mouth, the other brothers stared disbelievingly while Caderyn and Erin shook their heads in wonder.
“Did she actually leave the water altogether just then?” Morgaran gasped to his elders.
“I think she might, I’m sure I saw daylight twixt hull and sea.” Replied Caderyn disbelievingly.
“Well she was very light,” Erin muttered as they all turned to run to the harbour wall that the moor had taught them to build.
They arrived at the stone wall long after the twins, and Durant was already tying the boat up as Mabina was lowering the yard.
Caderyn, their worried father was the first to release his fear.
“You stupid little buggers! You could have been killed!!”
“But daddy,” Mabina squeaked beguilingly, “you see how fast she is; she dances in the Swillys’ jaws. The beast couldn’t lay a hand to us.”
“I’ll give you dancing! You’ll be dancing across the floor in a minute you stupid girl, and it won’t be the Swillys' hand you’ll be feeling.”
Caderyn turned to his youngest son.
“And as for you, you silly little fool! What in Nodens name where you trying to prove?”
Drustan looked up boldly.
“That she’s fast dad. She’s the fastest thing on the water.”
Drustan’s answer took all argument from the gathering and the tensions broke as the older men were all forced to concede. The boat that Mabina and Drustan had fashioned from odd cuts and loose ends had proven to be just that; the fastest thing that had ever left the Acaman familys’ slips; - and that made it one of the fastest things on the water, on the whole of Nodens’ Ocean!
Caderyn cursed with frustration and ordered the twins to bed without any supper. Drustan and Mabina slouched off angrily, two figures of frustrated dejection. Once out of earshot Mabina immediately spoke to Drustan.
“They’re stupid, the lot of them! You know how fast she is.”
“Yeah Sis, we neither of us would have tried that stunt if we had doubts. She’s fast.”
The twins stomped through the hall to their beds and lay facing each other across the glowing embers of the fire. Then Mabina, as she often did. Dragged her bed across the boundary line and lay it down next to her brother. The older children were now prohibited from this close proximity of male to female but the twins were still young. Drustan opened the gap in his skins and invited his sister to join him. She seized her chance and squeezed her fur-skin up to his as they chatted about the boat.
“We need a leeboard or something to hold her up to wind. We nearly lost it gybing around the headland.” Mabina whispered.
“I know, but leeboards are heavy and she moves so fast. There isn’t time to fuss about with just the two of us.”
“But it wouldn’t have to be as big and heavy as the ones on the other ships; she’s only a small light thing.”
Mabinas’ mind ticked away and Drustan waited expectantly.
“What we need is some sort of thing that can be slipped into position quickly.”
“Yeah, but you still have to secure it to the rail. Some sort of bracket or ring-bolt.”
They gave up for the time being and fell asleep in each others’ arms. When their oldest sister Aiofe came to bed she found the twins embraced and she checked the skins. They were well separated by the furs despite the sibling embrace and there was no intimacy. Aiofe smiled indulgently. She placed her bed beside them so as to prevent any of the others disturbing the twins then she carefully added two thick oak logs to the fire and turned in beside her youngest siblings. Caderyn found them later and grinned indulgently. It was hard to be angry for long with the twins. They had such lively minds and they were beautiful kids. How he missed his wife after she had provided him with such a bounteous harvest of life; five daughters and four sons. Then to have died but months after the twin’s arrival was such a terrible loss for whole clan. Bronwen had been so loved by all, she had been a beautiful and intelligent woman and Caderyn missed the pillow talk where she quietly helped him reach the wise decisions for which he become famous. He missed her so much that he would not take another wife; he was older now and too set in his ways.
His eyes fell upon his oldest and youngest daughters and a tear escaped.
‘Bronwen was in both of them,’ he sighed, before settling into his own, now lonely bed.
In the morning the twins wolfed their breakfasts and went immediately to their exciting new toy. To their dismay they discovered that the boat was already being put through its paces by their older brother and their grandfather. The watched with frustration as the craft showed its paces until finally, their brother and grandfather repeated the same trick with the Swilly whirlpool that the twins had initiated the previous evening. When the boat finally came alongside again Caderyn was frowning at his father and his son.
“You’re setting a bad example to the twins. I scolded them for doing that last night.”
Grandpa Erin smiled at his son as they cast a line to the twins who snatched it possessively and secured their boat.
“Well son, I think both you and I owe the children an apology. I’ve never ridden a faster water-horse.”
“You had no right to take it grandpa; you said yesterday that it was our boat! After all, Drustan and I built it!” Mabina complained loudly and vociferously.
“Yes darling, it is your boat. I was only trying to determine its secrets with your older brother. This little craft has lots to tell us.”
“It’s not fair, we can’t take it now.” Drustan protested. “The Swilly is really angry now. Look at it! She’d suck us down like rats in a trap. We can’t sail into the wind, for we’d set abeam and fetch right into the jaws of the beast.”
Caderyn and Morgaran studied the rumbling whirlpool as the tidal currents swirled around the reef. They knew the twins were right, the Swilly was in full throat now. It was an awful thing both feared and worshiped by the Acaman clan. The swirling vortex encircling the new moon was their mark, their totem on the clan heraldry of the Gangani tribe. When other tribes asked of the strange symbol, the family only had to show the visitors the roaring, sucking, monster that appeared like clockwork twice a day. The clan’s goddess was Ancamnan the goddess of water.
For generations it had been their protector and their gaoler. Few could enter the little bay without a guide past the Swilly but conversely, nobody could escape the bay if there was need for flight and the Swilly was feeding. The clan’s burials had always included the committal of the corpse to the Swilly whence it was sucked down then swept away on the ebbing tide, never to be found again. There, somewhere in the hidden depths, the torn and battered corpse would release the spirit and it would join the forefathers in the bosom of the sea. The last to be offered to the Swilly's wild spirit was Bronwen, Caderyns’ beloved wife. Her untimely death had been a grievous loss to the tribe. Even now, ten years after her descent into sickness, the twins still went to stare at the whirlpool and wonder what their mother had been like. Aiofe their oldest sister, had done well with the twins to make a substitute mother but the twins still grieved their never having known their mother, a woman who the whole tribe still spoke of with affection and reverence. After all she had been a kings’ daughter and Caderyn had gained a splendid prize by winning her hand.
With little else to do, the twins went to watch Brun, the clans’ blacksmith and their second cousin. The white hot iron that he forged and hammered never ceased to fascinate them.
Brun was making a block for the falls of the lifting yard for the new ship and he was heating an iron then using it to burn a line of smooth holes in an oak block to fashion a primitive block and tackle. If the holes were burned smooth then polished and greased, the rope could be hauled through it to gain an advantage. Mabina was fingering the other finished block while Brun worked quickly with white hot iron and tongs to burn the individual holes.
It was then that the girl had an idea and she quickly dragged her brother away to their little boat.
“You see how Brun burns the holes through the block.”
“Yes.”
“Could we burn a line of holes close together behind the mast footing where the chair still sits high?”
“What. You mean burn holes right through to the water?”
“Yes.”
“It might sink the boat. Is the chair above the water line abaft the mast?”
“Let's see.”
The twins knew full well how to find out. Drustan took a long straight stick while Mabina slipped away to the women’s hall and stole two short skeins of wool; the twins were of such sharp like minds that they knew exactly how to gauge the water line.
The stick was laid right across the gunwales and the wool dropped down to the chair while the other was suspended over the side. After the boat had settled calmly on an even keel the outboard skein was marked off at the water then compared with the inboard skein. There was a good two hand widths to spare.
“Am I thinking what you’re thinking?” Wondered Drustan.
“A lee board, but down through the mast foot.” Smiled Mabina.
“Won’t that weaken the chair? It might cause the back end to split.”
“It’s oak, it’s strong and the boat is only made out of scrap pieces anyway. Besides, Bruns' got several pieces of Copper spare. He gets then from uncle Mogantu at the mine.”
“Copper?”
“Yes. We could shrink a band of copper around the crown of the chair to bind it tight and stop it splitting.”
“What will granp’s say if we damage the boat?”
“You heard him this morning. It’s our boat; we can do what we want.”
Drustan shrugged. He could see where Mabina was going but he was loath to incur the wrath of their grandfather Erin.
“I’d better go and ask him.”
“Well don’t tell him what we’re thinking of, just ask if we can try out some ideas. I’m sure your idea for the planks to have that sharp edge at the turn of the chine is why she dances on the waves like our sister Tara at the festivals.”
“It wasn’t so much an idea, it was because we had to use those crooked frames." drustan confessed. "Grandpa wouldn’t let us waste good curved frames after I deformed the first one. I tried to rush the steaming and I bent it too soon and too far. Ash is much easier to work with than this pine stuff they got for the Viking copy. I'm not used to working with this pine.”
"Neither is anybody else in the village brother." Mabina replied sympathetically. "It's okay for masts and spars but it's the very devil to steam and form.
"Yes, so I suppose it was a happy accident. Noden must have arranged it that way to teach us about boats.
“Well you saw the way she dances, even Daddy saw it. He and Morgaran both said they saw her leave the water.”
“D’you believe them?”
“Dunno’” Mabina replied. “Morgaran tend's to elaborate though he’s nice but if daddy said it then it's probably true. There’s no doubting she’s fast though. Come on let’s speak to Brun about burning.”
This chapter describes the childrens narrow escape from the Norsemen and their first adventure.
The Angry Mermaid 3
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Brun put down the hammer as Feorin slowed the bellows.
“And what would you monkeys be wanting with hot iron?”
“We want to make some holes.” Mabina replied with her most beguiling smile.
“Holes in what?”
“Holes in wood.”
“Well if you bring the wood here I’ll do it for you later this afternoon.”
“We can’t,” Drustan replied.”
“Can’t or won’t, I know you two little monkeys of old! What are you up to?”
“It’s a secret.” Mabina smiled again.
“With that little racehorse of yours is it?”
Both twins nodded.
“Well if you set fire to her, don’t come crying to me.” Brun warned then added. “You’d best go with them Feorin, just to be sure.”
The taciturn Feorin nodded and the twins reluctantly agreed. Feorin was very different from his brother. Where Morgaran was lively, extrovert and sociable, Feorin was taciturn, introvert and thoughtful. Both Mabina and Drustan knew though that Feorin was the deeper thinker. If anybody was prepared to recognise any merit in their idea, it was Feorin and additionally, he didn’t go shouting about stuff. If they asked Feorin to keep silent, Feorin would, provided it wasn’t dangerous or harmful.
In the boat Drustan explained Mabinas’ idea and Feorin sat silent on the thwart just abaft the mast that acted as a vital stiffener. After Drustan had finished Feorin spoke.
“You’ll have to put a hound’s band around the top of the chair. The attached thwart adds strength to the gunwales when she’s close hauled and acts like a 'stringer'. The alternating lateral forces want to pant the gunwales inwards and outwards. That tends to have a splitting effect on the mast footing chair. If you cut a slot in the chair, it might weaken it too much.”
“We’ve thought of that. We’ve found a copper bar to make a hound’s band.”
Feorin fell silent again as he considered Mabina’s answer. After a short silence he replied.
“Copper’s too soft. It’s not strong enough and it might stretch or snap. Bronze would be better.”
“Bronze!” Drustan gasped. “Brun would go mad if we asked for bronze. He guards it like gold!”
“Then use iron. I’ll help you forge a hound’s band one evening after you’ve made your hole. It’ll be a test piece for Brun to check.”
Mabina let out a squeal of delight as Drustan gave his middle brother a hug.
“Thanks Feorin. You’re the tops, and please, please don’t tell anybody. We can work on this in the little hut at the end of the dock it’s right behind Bruns’ forge. Grandpa’s given us permission.”
“You make sure there’s no risk of fire. Brun stores his coals and charcoal in there to keep it dry.”
With agreement reached, Mabina and Drustan fell about their idea with enthusiasm. It was but a few steps from forge to the shed and the shed overlapped the little dock by several paces. Just enough room to push the little boat under cover if they unstepped the mast. Feorin could heat their iron borer to white heat then it was a few short steps for the twins from forge to boat. The nearness would enable them to quickly create the required slot in the mast foot chair. They set about their plan the very next night when the clan had a meeting because Cousins had come over from Eren to discuss the Viking threat. The Gangani tribes' tactics with the smaller Celtic warships had won the Acaman family considerable merit. Opinions were sought and respected.
During the day everybody was at the meeting except Feorin and the twins and the twins were truly grateful for their middle brother’s help. By noon the hole had been burned and shaped. After damping the forge, Feorin arrived to study the twins’ handiwork.
“And you intend to push your leeboard through that slot.” Feorin checked.
“Yes.” Mabina replied as Drustan put the finishing touches to the slot.”
Feorin took the now cooled iron poker and waggled it in the slot with some force for he was a strong young man. The Oak chair did not flex or budge and he nodded approvingly.
“That’s pretty strong; the hounds’ band will only serve as double insurance. What are you going to use as a leeboard?”
“We don’t know yet. We’ll try different woods, what do you think? Drustan replied.
Once again Feorins’ deep thinking mind served the twins.
“Try Yew first. It’s very tough and it’s very flexible. Think of the long bows that the Icieni use far to the East. That means it will take a lot to bend it but if the forces are too strong it will give better than oak, and it’s survives better in water.
Mabina exchanged a knowing smile with her twin. ‘Feorin was not just a blacksmith’s assistant. He was learned in many things but not prone to singing his own praises. His advice when asked for was carefully given and Mabina felt that Feorins' wisdom was carefully harvested then stored like precious corn.
The trick now was to find a yew plank wide enough and long enough and thick enough to shape into a precise fit for the slot. Several days later, Feorin appeared at the door of the little building shed. He was dragging a long thick bleached log.
“This’ll be what you’re looking for. I found it on the shore.”
The children gasped appreciatively as Feorin dragged the heavy bole that had obviously been swept up onto the shore. It was a full a week’s work to finally fashion three leeboards to provide spares. Eventually the boat was towed out and remasted. Feorin now claimed his price but the twins were happy to oblige, Feorin would join them in testing the new idea.
Thousands of years later the Lee-board would become known as a ‘dagger-board’ but in this early version the twins though not to rename it for it served the same function as the clumsy contraptions that were usually placed over the side and secured by whatever means was found convenient. Once the little craft was clear of the inner harbour the trio set it about putting the little craft its paces.
The leeboard worked well but they had to jam it down and Feorin made a note to bore a pin hole to use a copper pin to hold the board down in the slot. Once again the little craft raced across the harbour for all the clan to see, not to mention the
Visitors from Eren across the sea. They returned for lunch and a crowd gathered at the little dock to study the new leeboard arrangement. Caderyn, Morgaran and Grandpa Erin were impressed and plans were put in place to try a similar device on the second replica of the Viking warship. The rest of the day tests and plots were practised to determine the efficacy of Mabinas’ brainwave.
That evening grandpa Erin and their grandmother Giana took the children into their house and the children were surprised to find a small feast spread out for them. The rest of their immediate family were also present and a feast was held to celebrate the twins’ invention. Father Caderyn and Grandpa Erin had recognised that the twins little boat had become an excellent test bed for further ideas and ideas were desperately needed as the dreaded Viking longships were reported to have come south again and this time they had arrived earlier. It was only early spring and they had braved the cruel equinoctial gales to reach the Celtic Sea.
With heavy hearts, Caderyn and Morgaran assembled their little flotilla and bid goodbye to their loved ones. As the little fleet left the harbour heavy hearts and tears lay thick amongst the clan. Many wives would not see their loved ones again. Even Feorin, normally a dour, unemotional, young man, felt a tear rolling down his cheek. This was for two reasons. Firstly he had been denied the right to join the fight because secondly his skills as a blacksmith were too valuable. He and Brun had to finish the two remaining boats that lay unfinished on the slips. Then Brun might be allowed to sally forth to join his father and brother.
As summer came, news of the Celts progress was sparse and eventually Feorin was forced to put to sea with the two remaining boats in the hope of meeting up with his fathers’ fleet. Then as he searched off the isle of legs he learned the bad news. The huge Viking fleet had trapped his father’s little fleet in the great Cumber Bay. Fortunately, thanks to their shallower draft, the little fleet had managed sail further up the bay but now they were trapped. Only the two Celtic copies of the Viking longships had managed to escape by fighting their way out but the fighting had been bloody and Feorin learned that his father and his brother might be among the dead or captured for they of course were in the thick of the brief bloody fight. The whereabouts of the Celtic ships was unknown, they might even have been captured by the Vikings but Feorin doubted this. The Celts would have burned their boats first before letting the Norsemen learn of the secrets of the changes the Celts had made. Feorin stood off the Viking fleet with a heavy heart for although his two new ships were every bit as strong and manoeuvrable as any Viking warship they were outnumbered sixty ships to two and the ships were undermanned scratch crews, left over’s from the cream of the Celtic tribes who had joined with his father Caderyn.
All Feorin and his first cousin Rhun could do was stand off and intercept any communication between the huge fleet and their messengers. In this, the Celtic longships were admirably suited. They were fast and they could sail closer to the wind with their secret ‘dropping lee boards’. The Vikings began to run short of supplies and information. Eventually the Norse Chieftains were forced to acknowledge Feorins’ tactics and a flotilla of Viking ships was sent to destroy them. Here the Norsemen were singularly unsuccessful. Feorin and Rhun proved to be clever captains and skilful seamen who worked together well. Neither was jealous of the other for both were phlegmatic, practical seamen who hid sharp brains under their thick red hair. They were the only two members of the Acaman clan who sported their grandfather Erin’s carroty hair and whilst being the butt of gentle humour amongst their fathers, brothers, uncles and cousins, it also sought to bring the two together. Rhun and Feorin had always been close when Caderyns sons came to visit their Aunty Feidlim who was Rhuns’ mother. They became known to the Vikings as ‘The red scourge’ and to have their skills so recognised was no mean achievement for the Celtic Cousins.
Despite their brilliance, Feorin and Rhuns’ efforts had little effect. The Viking fleet was just too big and eventually the Norsemen captured several cities on the Celtic Sea. Slowly, inexorably, Feorin and Rhun had fewer places to run to for supplies and shelter until eventually they became refugees on their own sea. Other Celtic tribes made parley with the Norsemen who had at last recognised that war was the least effective way to somehow take advantage of the rich farmland that the Celtic, Brithonic Islands had to offer. Slowly, in the northern areas, trade and intermarriage brought settlement and peace; except for the Brithonic Celts of Cambria and their Hibernian Gaelic cousins.
Much blood and bitterness lay between the Vikings and the Southern Celts. Thus the strife moved south until the Shores of Cambria and Southern Hibernia were the battlegrounds. As the summer passed, Feorin and Rhun returned to the Family lands of Lleyn. The Celtic fleet had been trapped and soundly beaten by the huge Viking fleet and the invading Norsemen had decided to overwinter in Bail a Cleuth. Nothing could have left a stronger message to the Celts that the Norsemen where there to stay.
Of Caderyn and Morgaran the clan heard nothing and the village mourned the loss of many other men. Gathering the harvest that year was left to the women, children, old and the very few men who had returned. Feorin and Rhun were among that number and they almost felt guilty for being alive.
In the spring further disaster befell the clan.
On one of the first clear warm days Drustan and Mabina took their boat out to get rid of some cobwebs. The little craft had been fretting all winter between her bigger sisters until the winter storms abated. The day was set fair for some excellent sailing and Drustan suggested that Mabina and he take the boat around Fon to visit their cousins in the copper mines.
“D’you think we should?” Mabina wondered. “Hadn’t we better tell Feorin and granddad first?”
“Why. We’ll only be a day or so. This boat is fast.”
“I still think we should tell them.”
Drustan shrugged. Sometimes he couldn’t understand his twin sister. Oft times she showed more daring and craziness than he when it came to doing new things with the boat, like the time they first ‘shot the Swilly’. It had been her that egged Drustan on. But when it came to not telling the family, Mabina seemed almost cowed by fear. Drustan was mildly baffled but he bent to Mabina’s insistence and swung the boat about as they screamed over the waves back to the village.
Having now gained permission, and some small cargo of corn and iron tools fashioned by Brun, the pair restarted their journey.
As they sped northwards both Mabina and Drustan savoured the boat’s speed and they chatted idly as the land’s mans’ south-westerly wind sped them north with ease. The pair had little to do except steer and they settled to a quick passage comfortable. They chatted idly about many things.
“We should give her a name you know.” Mabina suggested.
“Who?” Dustan replied absently as he measured his leeway to see that they would easily weather the high jagged stack of rock that marked the corner of Fon before they turned east.
“The boat you fool!” Mabina replied as she double checked Drustan’s course and shared out some meat and bread.
“What does she want a name for?”
“All boats have names. You know that. Noden must know a bopat by her name.
“But if you give a boat a name, she gains a spirit and what if that spirit is bad.”
“Give her a nice name. Go to Renus the druid and ask him. If she’s got a nice name, she’ll have a nice spirit.”
“Renus doesn’t know anything about boats. Grandpa Erin knows more about boats.”
“Well ask him then, or Grandma Giana.”
“OK then, when we get back.”
Mabina smiled and took the steering oar while Drustan ate his food. Within a few hours more they had the mountain of Paris in sight and they made landfall before darkness. Auntie Feidlim and Uncle Mogantu made them welcome and the iron tools were most welcome. At dinner they exchanged news and it was not good. Like the Boat-builders, the miners had also suffered terrible depredations and many tears had been shed over lost husbands and sons from the Viking battles. Feidlim was afraid for Drustan and Mabina.
“You be careful going back children. The Vikings use this sea now as if they owned it. If they see a strange sail they immediately investigate.”
“Don’t worry aunty, Mabina smiled. They’ll not catch our boat.
“No, I don’t suppose they will, Rhun has told me how fast that strange craft of yours is and as for you and your brother, well you are as sea bred as the mermaids themselves. You’d best get some sleep now. It’ll be a harder journey returning or are you thinking of going back through Madogs throat?”
Mabina turned to her twin brother and they shrugged mutually. That was a decision dependant on the wind in the morning and the tide. The way the tides were at the moment they might have a faster and easier passage through Madogs throat despite the perilous rips and whirlpools that could fling unwitting victims onto the numerous reefs and rocks. For Madogs’ throat to be a viable option, the wind would ideally have to have turned to at least an easterly or preferably north- east. However, anything with a northerly component was usable. They could but wait and trust to the remarkable performance of their little boat that was still as yet un-named.
The whole tribe woke at dawn after Rhun had assessed the wind with his cousins. It was north-westerly and usable for a quick sheltered passage southwards through Madogs throat. They made hasty but careful preparations and put out with some copper, silver and gold. Normally such precious metal would not have been entrusted to such young children but these were uncetain times and no-one could be sure if and when they could next call with a bigger more powerful ship and crew. The bullion the children carried back to Lleyn was to pay for an earlier ship the Acaman clan had built and delivered during the winter. After the Viking wars the Celts were short of ships for reparation had been taken by the victorious Vikings. The Acaman build and delivery at short notice had been a clear demonstration of filial ties for the ship was essential to the mining clan to maintain their trade in valuable metals. The new trading ship also enjoyed some of the secrets that the Acaman clan had garnered from Mabina and Drustan’s beloved little ship. It was slightly faster but a much better sea boat than previous trading ships.
Mogantus’ mining enterprise had benefitted enormously and the bullion that Drustan and Mabina were shepherding back was to also pay for a second ship.
Drustan and Mabina were pleased and proud that their aunt and uncle had trusted them with such an important task as conveying bullion. It was a huge responsibility for two young people who had only just passed their twelfth summer. That morning they set off with the fair wind to run Madogs’ throat. By noon they had shot ‘The Spittle’ and the ebbing tide was sweeping them southwards towards ‘The Belly’. Mabina was tending the tiller as Drustan was checking the sail when he caught sight of a thin tendril of smoke rising from the approximate position of their village.
“Looks like Brun has got his forge blowing hot again,” Drustan grinned.
Mabina smiled and nodded as she checked the leeway to make sure they cleared ‘The Raker’, a sharp partially submerged rock that had caught and disembowelled many an unwary ship before it swept clear of Madog’s Arse.
Drustan was gazing absently at the smoke for he knew his twin sister was every bit as knowledgeable as he about Madog’s Throat and it's many hazards; - then he grew concerned and turned uncertainly to Mabina.
“That’s a hell of a lot of smoke!”
Mabina studied the expanding plume that was now beginning to stain the whole south eastern sky and the same fearful weight settled in her belly.
“What’s wrong?” She wondered aloud.
Drustan shinned several feet up the mast to get a better view then cursed.
“Shit! The village is on fire. No, there’s ships, - Viking ships on the beach. Oh no!”
“What? What!” Mabina begged as she desperately tried to see without releasing the new fangled tiller and rudder.
Drustan dropped down to the deck and seized the tiller to allow his sister a view. With equal agility, she shinned up the mast and confirmed Drustan’s worst fear.
“They’re burning the village!”
A sense of dread settled on the twins as they debated what to do but they couldn’t decide. Fear almost paralysed them until they saw the dreaded black sail of one Viking warship set out from the beach and steer straight towards their little craft. Drustan and Mabina had been spotted!
The sweeps of the long-ship beat a steady deadly rhythm as Drustan and Mabina fretted.
“What’s best?" Mabina cried. "What do you think?” Drustan
Drustan shrugged with equal uncertainty.
“We can’t beat back up Madog’s guts the tide’s still ebbing and the we’d have to beat into this north westerly wind.”
“We’ll have to try and close haul her and slip by to the South West.” Drustan offered it’s the only way out. It’ll still be tight, let’s hope we’re fast enough.
“But, ‘the Claw!’ Look at the height of the tide. The Claw is submerged. Where is it? If we strike it, it’ll rip our belly out. Look at the rip.”
Even as she cried her warning. Mabina knew that Drustan’s suggestion was their only hope. The passage between the cat rock and its razor sharp claw was desperately narrow and the ebb tide sucked and swirled through it like a writhing serpent. Mabina’s eyes teared up with fear as Drustan turned to stare at her. She scolded him more through her own fear than anny sense annoyance.
“Don’t just stare at me. Get up the mast, see what you can see. There’s still hope.”
Drustan needed no further prompting. Like a squirrel he shinned up the mast again and grabbed the yard to hold on as he searched the eddies and whirls.
The wind was still having effect though and it gave Mabina some steerage, it was certainly helping to drive the boat south but the wild rip was taking them faster. Both twins knew their fate was in the lap of, Nodens the sea god and they silently offered up their individual prayers. The boat swept ever faster into the roaring race as the tide sucked them south and west. Drustan watched mesmerized as the black, limpet coated rocks swept by at hypnotic speed. Then he spotted the biggest rip where the sea actually cleaved either side of the claw’s razor sharp ridge and he knew the deeper safer water lay between the cat and its claw. To pass outside the claw would fetch them up on the shallow reef that stretched into Madogs arse like a hidden haemorrhoid. If they fetched up on the reef they would be stuck, and easy prey for the Viking raiders, if they hit the claw they would be ripped open. Their only chance was the desperately narrow gully betwixt cat and claw. Drustan shouted down to Mabina and pointed towards the rip where the hidden razorback lay waiting hungrily.
“Starboard. Aim for the big tree on the point.”
Mabina peered uncertainly and found what she hoped was the tree that Drustan was referring to. She eased the rudder cautiously but Drustan shouted urgently.
“More starboard, we’re setting down onto the claw! More starboard!”
Mabina hauled the tiller right over and stared fearfully as the little craft seemed to refuse to respond. The tide had her in its grip now and there was no control! Drustan cursed as his fear took control then he cried with relief as the boat finally, slowly, ever so slowly, swung its stubborn head to starboard. Then Drustan realised that she would swing too far and head straight into the vertical face of the cat rock. In a frantic panic, he dropped down from the yard and nearly broke his ankle as he limped to the sheet and hauled it tighter yet. This obliterated Mabina’s view and she cursed angrily.
“I can’t bloody see!”
“Just keep the tiller as you are, steady as she goes! We’re in Noden’s grip now! I hope your prayers work!”
“And yours brother.”
The boat suddenly swung violently to starboard and there was a terrifying scraping sound. For a moment Drustan thought the vibrations were coming from their new-fangled centre board for he felt the vibrations through his feet and the boat heeled violently. His face paled as he tried to look for the claw but his desperate grip on the starboard mainsheet denied him a view over the port gunwale. Then he realised that the sheet was vibrating in his grip and his gaze followed the rope right up to the yard. The little boat was so close to the face of the cat rock that the yardarm was actually scrapping along the face of the vertical cliff. Frantically, Drustan released the sheet and the yard swung violently free as the boat recovered its stability and lurched upright again. Mabina gave a shriek of fear for she thought the leeboard had struck the claw but Drustan reassured her.
“It’s okay sis! We’re through the worst, just keep her close to the cat; stroke her whiskers even!”
Mabina smiled at Drustan’s remark as she studied the scratched yard.
“I think we really have dusted the cat’s whiskers! Look at the yard.”
‘Dusting the cat’s whiskers’ was a reference to the remark the family had always used to fly in the face of danger. The passage between the claw and the cat had always been a test of navigation and the family often let their younger members try it in a small dinghy. It was a rite of passage for either sex to prove their mastery. Nobody had ever done it in a larger sea-going boat and the twin's stomachs sagged with relief when they finally realised they had made it. There could not have been more than an arm’s span of clear water on either side of the boat.
Mabina looked at Drustan who was grey with fear.
“That was close! - too bloody close!”
“We’re not out of it yet sis, that bloody long-ship’s going to cut us off if we can’t make some more speed.”
“Not if he keeps that course. He’ll hit the reef, she’s bigger and deeper.”
“Hell yes, he probably doesn’t know about it. Dammit! Look. That’s Aiofe, they’ve got her prisoner!
“Well we can’t help her now, cried Mabina, this current is just too strong and the channel is still too narrow yet to beat against it. There’s nothing we can do!”
“Hold on Sis, those stupid buggers are going to hit the reef!”
“Even as Drustan spoke, the Viking - gave an unearthly creak as it hurtled onto the submerged reef and snapping timbers gave way as the ship reared up onto the shallow rocks. The ripping tide finally put the ship to death as the vicious eddies swung the long narrow hull around and ground out the last vestiges of strength. The Vikings were still dressed for battle after having spotted the twin’s craft and recognising it as the wonder ship that had become the talk of the Celtic sea. They had put out to sea in haste to catch the little craft and they were still wearing the battle armour. As the long-ship broke apart it swirled and rolled in the tide-race until finally it gave one dreadful groan and rolled over on its beam ends. Amid shouts of despair and panic men were flung into the sea and quickly sank before they could shed their chain mail or body plate.
Drustan and Mabina watched in horror as they watched dozens of men sink to their deaths. Some managed to cling onto flotsam from the ship and some managed to hold onto the broken wreck but they were going nowhere. The broken parts of the hull were fastened to the rocks and the men had two choices, remain where they were and hope somebody would come from the rest of the fleet to rescue them at low slack water. Alternatively they could strip off and strike out for the nearest shore, a perilous business in a cold sea. Additionally the powerful tide made the latter virtually impossible for the detached men were being swept further and further out to sea.
“Can you see Aiofe?” Screamed Mabina above the desperate shouts of the drowning men. “She was wearing red! She should be easy
to spot.”
“Where her hands tied?” Drustan cried as he desperately scanned the surviving heads in the water.
“I don’t know. I hope not.”
Desperation drove Drustan shinning back up the mast despite his damaged ankle and he managed to get himself bestride the yard to get the best vantage. From the higher vantage point he could see deeper into the water. To his relief he finally spotted a flash of red sweeping by underwater as Mabina held the little boat in irons then hauled the mainsheet and paid off as Drustan screeched instructions. There was nothing for it but he had to dive into the water from the yard as the boat span and rescue the red clothed body of his oldest sister.
“Let her run free sis! She'll drift with the tide and stay with Aiofe, I can see her.” He screeched as he tore off his clothes whilst gripping the yard between his knees and his leg twisted around the mast.
Mabina looked up and gasped as she saw her brother scramble along the port yard then shout one last instruction.
“Starboard Sis! Starboard! Starboard.”
Trusting entirely to her brother’s judgement, she flung the tiller over and squealed as he dived off the yard into the turbulent waters.
She immediately brought the boat about to take all way off again and she waited nervously for what seemed like ages before she heard Drustan screaming and spluttering like a grampus just under her stern. Without hesitation, she flung the rope to him and set about recovering her brother and her comatose sister.
Like everybody in the Acaman clan, the pair were past masters at recovering people from the sea and in short order Aiofe was lying still and blue in the well.
Mabina immediately set about trying to revive her sister while Drustan watched on fearfully as he looked around for the safest escape route. The whole incident had been seen from the shore and now two more ships were being readied for pursuit. Drustan cursed the black sails with their red flame motif and put about as he headed immediately for the open sea.
“Will they catch us?” Begged Mabina between her efforts to revive her sister.
“I dunno’. We’ve got a good start and they’ll not be rushing headlong after seeing what happened to that lot.” Drustan flung out his arm to indicate the last few remaining men in the water. Gradually the racing tide and their heavy armour was sucking them down and killing even the strongest swimmers.
Fortunately for the twins, the second gang of pursuing Vikings were now the worse for drink and it wasn’t long before they were forced to concede defeat. Within hours, the twins were gone and clear over the southern horizon. Even better news was the desperate cough that Aiofe gave as she finally spluttered back to consciousness.
“Oh Sis, thank the gods, by all that’s of Noden's sea, thank the gods you are returned to us!” Cried Mabina as Drustan offered up yet another silent prayer to the Sea God Nodens.
Fortunately they carried a spare linen sail and with this they were able to wrap Aiofe up to keep warm. Drustan had to climb the mast for yet a third time that day to recover his vestments from the truck. Mabina smirked as his naked body was plain to view.
Finally, as calm returned to all three, they held a parley to decide on the best course of action. Aiofe described how the raiders had attacked at dawn with overwhelming numbers and quickly overpowered the few men left in the village.
“Are they all dead?” Sobbed Mabina, barely wanting to hear the answer.
Aiofe swallowed remorsefully and nodded. She found it impossible to voice the word ‘yes’ as her throat tightened with despair. Then she found breath enough to add
“I think’, but they may have been taking the younger women and girls as slaves. That’s what they were doing with me.”
“So maybe Tara, she might be alive?”
“Maybe,” whispered Aiofe, “but I don’t hold out much hope for her.”
“She’ — she’s pretty though,” Drustan offered hopefully Maybe someone will take her as his wife.”
Both his sisters looked scornfully at him and he turned his head away in despair. The Vikings were nearly always after slaves or concubines.
With heavy hearts and copious tears, the three survivors set a course south to take them clear forever of the dreaded Norse raiders. Their last view of their beloved home was one of smoke enveloped destruction.
The first transgendered intersex issues begin to manifest themselves as Drustan unknowingly experiences his intersexed menarche.
The Angry Mermaid 4
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 4
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of the Demetae, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
All that evening and through to the following morning the trio spelled each other as one slept while the other two kept watch and steered through the clear summer night. In the early summer morning they finally lost sight of their beloved Lleyn and set course south for the next great headland. In the early afternoon they sighted the land of the Demetae. Unsure of the reception they might receive; they stood off the rocky coast and debated their plan of action.
“Have we any relatives married to the Demetae?” Drustan wondered.
Aiofe wrinkled her brow as she tried to recall the family history and silently cursed that she had not paid attention to her dead mother and grandmother Giana when they recited the family names going back centuries. The new priest had written them all down in the Latin letters and the younger girls had decided there was no longer any need to burden their minds with such petty details now that the wisdom was recorded on parchment. Sadly all that knowledge was lost to them, consumed in the flames of the attack. Aiofe cursed the stupidity of the younger women of her tribe, for now they had nothing to recite at any reception to identify themselves as Celts and members of the Gangani. All they had was a shared language but even that was hampered by their very different accents. The Gangani with their adenoidal, sing-song melody and the Demetae with their softer flatter vowels.
‘And many words were different too, Aiofe silently concluded as she recalled the last time they had stopped briefly by on their long passages to the Frankish lands. Oh how she wished her brother Morgaran were here with his gifts for tongues. She was good with languages but Morgaran had been infinitely better. Now she was the older one, the one who charged herself with the responsibility and safety of her younger siblings. It was a heavy burden for a girl not yet into her nineteenth summer.
Unfortunately the twin siblings didn’t exactly see it that way. Having demonstrated that were fully capable of navigating their beloved boat around the Island of Fon and all along the coast to the land of the Deceangli they felt they were more than able to handle any voyage and any situation.
Aiofe’s uncertainty left them frustrated for they had not realised that their adolescence was not deemed a threat or an invitation to any other acquaintance. On the other hand, Aiofe was already brutally aware of the carnal risks to her because of her beauty. It was this vulnerability that she constantly had to remind her younger siblings of. One small thing to have come from their having rescued their older sister from the Arse of Madog was that the twins had become aware of the threat to their older sister. Her ‘value’ had been made obvious to them by the fact the cruel Norsemen had taken her alive while slaying most of the family.
Mabina especially, now in her twelfth summer was beginning to learn of these awful dangers. Drustan, a boy was not yet so mature. Reluctantly he bent to his sisters’ wishes and they stood off until nightfall. Fortunately, Aiofe could remember the safe inlet that set in for miles on the south side of the land of the Demetae. She persuaded her younger siblings that it might be safer to enter the wide deep haven in the dark. The summer night skies were clear. The stars glittered and the moon was full; there would be enough light and the wind was north-westerly. This was a wind that they could use to enter or leave if their reception was hostile and the situation ashore proved dangerous. Aiofe was never more thankful for her younger siblings’ strange little craft. Few other craft in those times could sail four points to the wind. She and her family had stood disbelievingly on the shores of their beloved Lleyn and watched the craft force her high narrow prow up into the wind. Aiofe could remember her older brother Morgaran and her father grandpa Erin no less, gasping in disbelief as Mabina had skirted the rocks and shot ‘The Swilly’ that had always proven to be a barrier to sailing from their little bay in other ships. As they had fled the horrors of the Norsemen, Drustan had tensioned the sail with all his might and held his foot hard down on the centre leeboard as his sister had embarrassed the bigger ships and slipped cheekily through the narrow shorter passage while the other ships lumbered patiently around the reef. They had escaped to open water while the larger craft were unshipping sweeps to make the passage. That same design had enabled them to escape from the Cats’ Claw and make fools of the pursuing raiders long-ships.
Now that same accident of design had given the trio a new window of opportunity. They could enter the great haven, check the reception and then escape again if necessary if the locals proved hostile. In those turbulent times there was no way of knowing if Celts or Norsemen held the land of Demetae. As the rising North-westerly gale swept the brave little craft around the point, the outgoing tide race caused the incoming seas to heap up into a fury of huge lumpy breakers that tested the trios’ skill and endurance. They had set up the leather storm sail to act as a breakwater cum foredeck to reduce the ingress of spray and greener water but Aiofe and Drustan were still forced to bail furiously while Mabina tried to compromise her course between advancing into the great haven and steering to avoid the breaking wave crests from inundating the hull. Stomachs tensed and hearts thumped fearfully as each wondered if they would make the passage.
Eventually the wild waters calmed and the bailing pair slumped exhausted in the well as Mabina found a safe course around the headland and hugged the northern shore to avoid the obvious white tide race that roared across the southern side of the entrance. She had no idea where the safest, deepest passage lay but to enter the wild white breaking seas further south and east would have been folly. Finally she found shelter in an open bay with soft sloping sands and she called to her exhausted companions.
“There’s a beach over there. This north westerly is off-shore so this should be the best place to anchor until daylight.”
Brother and older sister were too tired to argue and they knew Mabina was every bit as skilled as them in choosing a likely anchor position. Wearily, Drustan and Aiofe lifted the anchor stone to the gunwale then carefully paid out the anchor rope to four arm spans. Having established there was no bottom at this depth, Mabina now carefully nosed her way inshore until eventually the dangling anchor stone touched bottom and the little boat swung around like a tethered horse. Without having to be asked, Drustan paid out another couple of arm-spans of rope and they settled to watch if the anchor stone held. It appeared to do so and they reefed the sail to reduce the loading on the anchor. All they could do now was wait until the first fingers of dawn slid over the great sound. After arranging ‘watches’, Mabina took first hour and they settled down as best they could. Aiofe and Drustan slept because they were still tired after the frenetic bailing.
Dawn arrived quickly. Short summer nights conspired to bring the all revealing daylight after only two changes of the watch. Mabina could not believe it when Aiofe woke her to indicate the deep scarlet veins of cloud that warned of bad weather. Already a light persistent drizzle forewarned that the north-westerly winds of the previous day were harbingers of worse weather to come.
“It’ll be daylight enough to see the shore soon,” sighed Aiofe as Mabina reluctantly uncurled her aching limbs from her twin brother’s embrace.
“Should we wake Drustan?” Wondered Mabina aloud.
“Might as well. We’re sure to be noticed soon if not already. That anchor won’t weigh itself and I’d hate to be stuck by our anchor to the bottom if they send out a hostile investigation team.”
Once more the three of them stirred wearily and took a hold of the anchor rope. Slowly the sodden rope was rove in and eventually, the stone was hauled inboard. Glad to have recovered their anchor instead of being forced to cut it loose in an emergency, they set about approaching the shore where there was no evidence of occupation. The bay was well sheltered and there was little movement so they clawed their way up into the wind until they were close inshore next to a rocky ledge behind a small headland. There they were invisible to the opposite shore where the most obvious settlement lay. They couldn’t see any dwellings on their side of the inlet. The water was deep, crystal clear and lacking any obvious underwater obstructions so they drew lots to see who should swim ashore.
Mabina declared herself to be unwell. She had got an attack of stomach cramps and her older sister Aiofe took her to the stern and raised a small screen from the edge of the sail. She returned and advised Drustan that his sister was ‘indisposed’. When the naive Drustan wondered loudly what was wrong Aiofe had the wisdom and sense to explain what had happened and the boy came to understand something of women. Drustan was now secretly glad he lost the draw for he had become alert to the additional horrors faced by his sisters. Aiofe had also enlightened him further of a woman’s primordial fear.
After arranging several rendezvous with Aiofe to contend with different foreseeable situations, Drustan slipped quietly into the water and set out for the shore. While he was away, Aiofe gave her younger sister more enlightenment about entry into womanhood. Mabina was at once excited, proud and nervous of her development. Both Drustan’s sisters watched his head bobbing rhythmically until he disappeared behind a small rock only to reappear several minutes later waving from the ledge that was clear of the water. Drustan was ashore.
He smiled gratefully as he dressed with the dry clothes he had tied to his head and then he set off into the unknown. The girls stood the little boat further into the tiny inlet to be less visible to the remainder of the haven and they settled down to wait patiently.
Drustan moved with the utmost caution until he finally came upon a small dwelling. It was a single small stone round-house but there was a wisp of smoke emerging from the small hole at the apex of the conical roof so he lay still to await any signs of life.
After a short wait his legs started to cramp up for he had spent too many hours either curled up in a ball trying to keep warm or exerting tired muscles for long periods as he braced against sail sheets or the tiller. He crept closer, more to relieve the painful stiffness in his muscles than any other reason. Then he heard a short sharp shout from within the round-house.
Suddenly a young girl emerged crying from the hut to the accompaniments of abusive bellowing from within.
Drustan flattened behind a rack of drying fish as the girl dashed to a latrine and relieved herself before setting to with the smouldering remains of the previous night’s fire. She re-entered the round-house only to receive a blow or a smack, Drustan heard the sound clearly but could not be certain what sort of strike she had received. Then the girl emerged crying louder as she added extra embers to the outdoor fire.
The voice from within the round-house snarled in a Nordic tongue whilst the girl replied monosyllabically in a heavily accented Celtic tongue. Drustan quickly grasped the meaning of the interplay. There were Norse raiders in the fisherman’s hut whilst the weeping girl was a Celtic slave.
‘The northern raiders were already as far south as the Demetae lands!’
As the girl fed the fire Drustan looked around for better cover but there was none. There was nothing for it but to somehow contact the girl later. His first task was to return to the boat and relay the bad news. It seemed the whole of their beloved Cambria was now foresworn to them. They would have to travel even further afield to find safety.
When he returned to the ledge where he had come ashore he had to search for the boat but he found it tucked away behind a narrow outcrop where his sisters had found excellent concealment. As the boat lay tucked between the rocky stack and the overhanging cliff, it was lying in a shallow cave invisible both from the sea, the opposite shore and the land immediately above. Aiofe and Mabina had found a perfect niche and better still they could step ashore without getting wet. The little boat was nestled comfortably like an egg in a nest within the cave. Provided the sea remained calm, it was perfectly safe. Glad to have relocated his sisters, Drustan explained the situation.
“There's a young girl. She’s even younger than us two and she’s black and blue with bruises.”
“And how many men?”
“Don’t know. I’ll have to return and find out.”
“Not alone you won’t. Mabina can stay here and mind the boat while you and I return.”
Drustan shrugged. It made sense to cover as many angles as they could. If one of them was caught maybe the other could help if there was a fight. It was incumbent on them to find out as much as possible from the little girl. To this end they returned to the fisherman’s round-house and staked out the setup. After a mornings’ careful surveillance they concluded there were two men and the young Celtic girl who was obviously their slave.
Back at the little boat which by now was well hidden because of Mabinas’ labours carrying rocks to create a small breakwater and lessen the effects of the already reduced wavelets that rippled around the main headland and spent themselves on the shore. Now the little boat lay cradled and easy while Mabina spread out their clothes to dry. She had debated lighting a small fire but that was too dangerous and she had no idea where the smoke might emerge from the cave. When her siblings returned they held a council of war.
“There’re two men and the little Celtic girl. She’s got bruises on her face and she’s always crying.” Aiofe declared to Mabina.
“If we could get to her alone I think she would be an ally.” Drustan added.
“Trouble is the men are big and powerful and they’re armed.” Aiofe sighed.
“If I got one of them by surprise, - “Drustan declared bravely.
“It would only alert the second man, we’ll need more subterfuge than that.” Aiofe reasoned. “Have you any ideas Mab’s? Any herbs that you could poison them or something?”
“I’d need to get into that forest behind the round-house and see what’s available. Grandma Giana always said that the Demetae used Cehn bulbs to poison their victims. They learnt this from the Roman soldiers who used to poison themselves quickly if they knew they were going to die slowly of their wounds. Cehn bulbs are quick and deadly and the taste is not very noticeable. They sleep before they die. Grandma always said the Cehn flowers grew in abundance down here. The trouble is the flowers are sleeping now in the summer and they’ll be difficult to find. I’d have to search in daylight for any herbs for that matter.”
They agreed it was Drustans’ turn to guard the boat and the sisters returned to spy on the little fishing round-house. They saw the Celtic girl bent over a cooking pot while the two men sat idly by checking their swords. Obviously the round-house, being out on the promontory had a good view of the haven and it was a lookout post. A large deep-tone horn lay outside the door and it obviously served as a warning call to rouse the Vikings who had invaded the village set further back into the bay. The girls retreated back from the edges of the little settlement to debate their strategy.
“We’ll have to poison them.” Observed Aiofe.
“Well lets immediately to the woods and see what we can see.” Mabina replied.
“It’s a good job you used to go with grandma. I should have listened to her more.”
“It’s too late now, grandma’s dead,” replied Mabina tearfully, “how did she die?”
“Quickly.” Aiofe replied. “Once sword cut to her neck. A beast of a man with a cruel blue scar on his cheek just sliced her neck open with on vicious stroke.”
“It must have been horrible.”
“She was lucky little sister. It’s our sister Tara and our other cousins who I worry for. They took her captive like me, - like that little girl doing all the work back there. She’s just a slave now, then, when she’s older, -”
Aiofe left the rest unspoken, both girls knew the obvious.
Mabina sat wretched with despair on the forest floor as her cramps returned. Aiofe comforted her for long minutes before the child woman recovered enough to resume their search for herbs. Eventually Mabina located some suitable herbs and then to her joy she recognised the wrinkled spindly leaves of some Cehn. A quick bit of digging produced some fat swollen bulbs full of food for
the next season’s growth but also full of poisons. Gleefully Mabina gathered a large collection and they returned to the outskirts of the little camp. To their joy, the men had eaten and they were snoring as the little Celtic girl gutted fish for the next meal. The sisters wagged their heads in disgust.
“Huh! Some lookouts, no wonder we were not seen!” Mabina snorted.
Aiofe nodded agreement then pointed across the clearing. The young girl had finished the fish and was leaving to gather firewood from the forest.
Aiofe and Mabina skirted nimbly around the settlement then crept up on the unsuspecting child. It was but a minute to seize the girl and declare themselves.
“Who are you,” whimpered the terrified girl who was muffled by Aiofe’s calloused hands.
“I am Aiofe merch Caderyn ap Erin of the Gangani!” growled Aiofe.
“Mmmph! You are Celt!” The young girl spluttered.
“Yes! Sister. You are obviously of the Demetae, what is your name.”
“I am Arina merch Brogan ap Losach,” whimpered the girl hugely relieved to have been caught by Celts and two maids at that.
Aiofe wasted no time on niceties.
“What is the setup at the round house?”
“The pirates use it as a watch tower. It was my family home. They use me to cook and keep house.”
“And your family?”
The girls’ face fell tearfully to the floor and the silence told all. Aiofe could have shed tears as well but there was no time.
“D’you wish to escape.”
“Yes! Yes. They beat me all the time!”
The girl showed her bruised arms.
“Right,” Aiofe concluded. “Take a pile of wood back to the fireside then return here to seek more.”
The child did as requested and returned hoping against hope for rescue. Aiofe and Mabina had concocted a plan by the time she reappeared.
“Tonight we will poison the pirates. What time do they sleep?”
“At sundown, when it’s too dark to keep lookout.”
“They don’t seem to be keeping much of a lookout now.”
“They are lazy and dirty and cruel and greedy.”
“The greedy bit I like,” Mabina grinned, “they will be easy to poison. Do you eat after they have eaten?”
“Always.”
“Good, I will make the poison strong and quick. When they go to sleep, they won’t wake up.”
“How often do they change watches with other men?” Aiofe pressed.
“They don’t. These two did something wrong during the raid and they were posted out here as punishment. The others are in the village with, - with the women. My mother and sisters were taken there as well.”
Aiofe sighed; there was nothing they could do for the women trapped in the village. They were but two maids and a boy against a Viking raiding party. The Celtic men were obviously all dead or worse enslaved and un-manned. The sisters explained their plan to the child and all the young girl had to do was behave exactly as she usually did except to slip the poison into the pot before feeding the two brutes. The plan worked beautifully and before the sun had set, the two pirates were dead. Cehn bulbs were a particularly potent poison.
The little boat was secure in her tiny enclave. Drustan had added to Mabina’s efforts and the breakwater was now doubly effective. When the girls returned to the boat they saw Drustan’s handiwork but found him curled up with a severe gripe in his stomach. He was reluctant to leave the comfort of the folded sail in the boat but Aiofe and Mabina prevailed upon him so all three returned to the roundhouse. They found the young girl crying with relief. She was frightened of the dead and desperately relieved to see the sisters again. Her eyes widened at the sight of Drustan for the sisters had not mentioned their brother. After dragging the Norse corpses into the woods, they gathered some more herbs for Drustan’s stomach ache then returned to the roundhouse.
They spent two whole days resting at the little fisherman’s roundhouse while the summer gale blew itself out. Drustan’s stomach ache eventually eased along with Mabina’s cramps while everybody was grateful to fill their hungry bellies with cooked fish, hot vegetables and fresh bread. Each night they were glad to sleep on comfortable stable beds. Sadly, they all knew they could not stay for much longer. Eventually the other Viking raiders would come to gather their miscreant comrades when they tired of the captive women and held their ‘all-thing’ to discuss their next plans. The third morning they reluctantly set about stripping the settlement of everything of use.
Drustan was particularly pleased to recover the bows and hand weapons of the two pirates plus the heavy leather tunics. These would serve to keep them warm for they had felt Noden’s nightly bite on the previous passage from Lleyn.
“We have something to protect ourselves now.” Drustan observed.
“Never mind those,” Aiofe replied, “gather all the food and water pots. We cannot stay here so we’ll have to leave. It’s Norsemen land now.” Aiofe scolded her younger brother but he was resolute about the weapons.
“I’m not leaving good weapons behind.”
“Of course not, but it’s food and water we’ll need for the next leg. The passage is long and this weather is worsening. The only thing we’ll be fighting is Noden’s anger.”
Drustan was pleased to keep the weapons but he could see his sister’s logic. Each of them was well versed in seafaring and they knew the next leg south was a long one beyond the sight of land. He set to with avengance ferrying every imaginable item that could be deemed of any use. He received some funny looks when he carried the huge ‘long-horn’ back to the boat during his last journey and he grinned at his twin Mabina.
“You never know. It may be useful to send messages or sound the alarm.”
Aiofe smiled indulgently, ‘the horn might have some conceivable use but she could not see one immediately. If they were attacked who would they summon for help?’
The sister’s were glad of his willing frame though. Even though Drustan was only a boy, he was wiry and tough. Now his stomach ache was over he was a useful pair of shoulders. Men were built to do heavy work and Drustan had to grow up quickly. Even so, Drustan was much smaller and lighter than his brothers were at his age. Aiofe studied her younger brother and smiled; he was doing his best to do a man’s work and making a fair fist of it. Their last act was to feast on whatever food they could not take. They left the tiny settlement silent and deserted as they made their final journey down to the little boat. Arina was stunned to find the boat nestled so perfectly inside the rock promontory and protected by the small but effective little breakwater.
“She is beautiful! What is her name?”
The twins exchanged bemused looks. They had forgotten to name her for they had never had a chance to name her formally. Such a forgetful act had been very remiss. Mabina explained to Arina.
“She hasn’t got a name.”
“What!” Screeched Arina. “A boat must have a name, it’s bad luck and what happens if Nodens finds her. He will not recognise her.”
“Quiet! You silly child. The whole bloody haven will hear you if you scream like that!”
Arina felt suitably chastised but she continued in the same determined vein as she whispered angrily.
“I will not sail in a boat with no name. How will Nodens recognise her?”
“Oh all right then,” snapped an exasperated Drustan, “if she must have a name, then give her one!”
“There must be food and beer to offer to Nodens.”
“He can have one fish and a loaf.” Declared Mabina parsimoniously. “Food’s too precious; we don’t know when next we’ll find any. We’ve been lucky so far.”
“Where are we going?” Cried Arina.
“We don’t know, now do what you have to with this water and bread and name the bloody boat,” Aiofe ordered the girl impatiently.
Arina immediately broke the bread and stuffed it into different parts of the boat then she poured the water over the high narrow prow. She said some prayers to Nodens then did a strange thing with her hands as she mimicked a cross in the sky. Drustan had seen the old Latin priest do it and he wagged his head thoughtfully.
‘Was Arina of the new religion?’ he asked himself. ‘It didn’t bode well for the new religion was cruel to women and set them behind men.’ Drustan held his sisters equal in all things for they had demonstrated their equality in every meaningful way.
Still there were more pressing issues at the present, like getting out of the haven and away to better lands were the Norse writ did not run. He turned to Arina.
“So little girl, what will you name her?”
“I shall call her Little Mermaid.”
“Oh come off it Arina,” scoffed Drustan, “every little boat on the water is called ‘Little Mermaid,’ think of something better than that. This boat is special, just you wait until you see her stretch her legs. Try ‘Sea-horse’ or something”
“That’s not fair. Now you’ll make Nodens angry. You cannot change a boats’ name.”
“Uhm, you haven’t named her yet,” Aiofe interjected. “You only said you would call her that.”
Arina stopped in mid thought as Aiofe’s logic, however, as a child she still liked the thought of mermaids.
“Well can we call her something mermaid?”
“How about ‘The Angry mermaid,’ being as everybody’s getting so het up about it.” Mabina offered.
Her remark brought smiles to everybody’s faces and Arina grasped the opportunity. She looked pleadingly at Drustan who nodded his consent.
“Aye. Angry mermaid sounds better; it’s got a bit of attitude to it.” Drustan smiled.
“OK then, Arina,” added Aiofe,” go to it kid; times getting on.”
Arina took the last droplets of water and sprinkled them at the foot of the mast as she intoned the words ‘The Angry Mermaid.’ Mabina looked on puzzled.
“Why name the foot of the mast? We normally name her at the bow.”
“It’s the heart of the boat.” Arina replied. “It’s the part that drives her. The part that connects the soul of the wind to the body of the ship and moves her along.”
“Makes sense to me sis,” Drustan added with a smile.
“Yes. That’s a nice idea,” Aiofe added. “So ‘The Angry Mermaid’ it is then.”
Arina smiled beatifically and ceremoniously made a wet cross with her finger on the chair were the mast was stepped. The others shrugged.
‘Each to their own Gods,’ thought Drustan as he symbolically threw some bread into the lapping wavelets to assuage any offence that Nodens the Celtic Sea God might have taken.
With this seemingly important task done, the four eased the boat out of the inlet and set sail under intermittent moonlight as the clouds turreted past the moon. The wind at least was north of west and that was an easy wind to clear the haven. The navigation was left to Drustan while Mabina and Aiofe chatted to Arina to determine any tribal family connections. Sadly they had lost the Old Oral Celtic traditions and in each instance the written records had been destroyed in the Viking raids. They had little to thank the Latin priests who had broken the old Celtic traditions. The girls knew that there had been family connections made often through the long centuries of trading but now all was lost. Sadly the girls settled down to sleep as Drustan took his turn at the helm while Noden's’ breath carried them south.
Author's note.
I have noticed that 'Comments' are falling off recently.
Comments are life blood to authors I'd welcome a few.
Bev.
Hope I don't appear conceited.font>
In which the Gangani trio escape Demetea with a new crewmember and arrive on Dumnoni shores.
The Angry Mermaid 5.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 4
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
All that night and the following day The Angry mermaid swept south as the four debated their next option. If the Norsemen had reached the lands of the Dumnonii then there would be no option but to skirt the dangerous shores and use Aiofe’s’ memory of the route to the Frankish lands. Their fears were not helped by Noden’s mood. The skies had darkened and the seas had built up into heaving, towering mountains with thunderous horses plunging down their lee sides. None of the three Gangani children had ever seen such huge long heavy seas but Arina had.
Often when out fishing she had lain in their boat and watched the huge swells rolling easily out of the western great sea where no land ever was. Provided the winds that had fetched up such great mountains of water were not following on, then the seas in themselves were not dangerous. The Demetae’s boats simply rode easily over the mountainous swells as the fishermen continued working their nets and lines.
This time however, an unseasonal summer gale had joined with the incoming swells and built a short breaking sea up on top of the rolling swell. Now the Angry Mermaid was pounding and rolling furiously in the combined frenzy of the south-westerly swells and the additive north-westerly crosswinds. The mermaid flung herself like a wild runaway horse as she breasted first one mighty swell then set her bow to the cross wind and slammed into the white horses that raced along the tops of the waves before plunging madly into the following swell. It was a wild ride and a sickening one but fortunately each of them had sailed the waters all their lives. The only difference being that now the waves were infinitely larger and they found it hard to comprehend the idea that between the might swells, they could not even see over the wave crests even if they had climbed the mast.
“What makes these waves?” Drustan bellowed to Arina between the rhythmic slow crashes of the angry breaking crests.
“Big storms, far, far out. Storms like our winter storms.”
“What; even in the summer.”
“They are far away; they say the seas are as warm as blood.”
“Who told you all this?”
“Travellers from the south,” replied Arina, “and sometimes after the winter storms we get all sorts of strange things cast up on the beaches. Trees that are nothing like our trees, great seeds and often strange birds and great swimming creatures with shining shells. There must be other lands beyond the great sea; lands that we will never see.”
“Well I should like to visit them one day.” Drustan remarked mainly to himself because Mabina then let out a cry.
“I think that’s land!”
The peered as one and concluded Mabina was right. A thin, light, grey strip of cliffs was showing up as the Mermaid crested each wave.
“We’d better stand off further out.” Drustan shouted mainly to Aiofe.
She turned and nodded.
“We have to round that headland and then change course to easterly. We mustn’t go too far out though. If I remember properly, there were off shore islands and reefs further out and they are a graveyard for plenty of ships.”
“Is that definitely the Dumnonii headland?”
“Yes. I’ve been there twice. You and Mabina were supposed to accompany Morgaran this summer if it hadn’t been for the damned Norse pirates.”
“We’ll have to clear that headland then. If we fetch up on a lee shore with these seas we’re done for.”
“Well if we’re going to do it, do it now, the closer we get, the more westering we’ll have to steer and the broader we’ll be on to this north-westerly gale.” Mabina added as she swapped helm duties with her brother.
Drustan glanced at Arina who nodded fearfully. She had seen seas as wild as this before but usually from the cliffs of her beloved haven. Weather as bad as this usually drove the Demetae boats to find shelter. She was surprised to find that these fearless Gangani cousins seemed only to be wondering their course and plan of action. They seemed to have every faith in the little craft Arina had been so honoured to give a name. Once more she looked aft disbelievingly as the craft surfed down the following sea and left a white line of foam still visible as it angled through the spindrift on the last but one wave as she raced along before the North-westerly gale.
Arina swallowed fearfully, ‘The boy Drustan was right; if they fetched up on the lee shore then they would be dashed to pieces!’ She looked again at the pale grey rocky land and finally built up enough courage to nod timidly.
“I think you’re right, we’d best make sure we clear the headland.”
Aiofe smiled at the girl and handed her some dried fish that had come from Arina’s own drying rack back were the poisoned pirates still probably lay dead. She took it gratefully and chewed it slowly to make it last. There was still plenty of food and water but it had to be eaten cold and Arina was missing the hot food. Still, when she balanced that with the idea that she was at least now free and amongst friends even if they were in danger, they were sharing that danger as equals. Not one decision had been made where Arina, despite only having ten summers, had not been consulted. She pressed up close to Aiofe looking for adult reassurance and the young woman reached around her child shoulders to reassure her.
“Don’t worry Arina; the Angry Mermaid is a fine boat. Have you ever seen anything go so fast and yet stay so dry?”
Once more Arina stared out at the mountainous seas and nodded disbelievingly to Aiofe as the craft bravely fetched up to another towering crest and shouldered the crossing white horse aside as it plunged racing down the rear of the rolling mountain of water. She looked aft at Mabina steadying the tiller and marvelled at the stability of the craft. ‘There was a girl but two summers her elder and yet equalling all the competence of her twin brother Drustan!’
That same brother was at that moment checking the cordage and canvas but he felt Arina’s eyes boring into his back. He turned and seemed to read Arina’s mind.
“Don’t worry my Demetae cousin. Once this storm abates, we’ll have you trained to the Mermaid’s secrets. This is not the time to be learning though; Nodens is testing us and the Mermaid.”
Arina could have kissed the boy and even Aiofe felt a wave of affection for her younger brother for his having reassured the little girl. There was no room for passengers on this perilous passage.
Having agreed their plan, Drustan finished checking the linen sail and nodded to his twin.
“Can you try and bring her round a point to starboard, see how she likes it.”
Mabina cast a glance back at the seas and nodded as Aiofe warned Arina to take hold.
“She might roll and lurch a bit until we’ve reset the sail, just expect a change of motion.”
Aiofe stepped up beside Drustan to adjust the sail while Arina accepted Mabina’s invitation to come aft to the tiller. As she watched her siblings like a hawk, Mabina also explained to Arina how she was watching Nodens’ ocean to see that no surprises were sprung.
Once Aiofe and Drustan had tightened the port sheet the Angry Mermaid took the bit between her teeth and set off at an even faster pace. She seemed to fly at the seas and take every crest like wild horse but they were making the essential westering that would ensure their clearing the dreaded headland.
Once they were happy with the boat’s performance Mabina slung a loose turn around the tiller to ease the burden on her arms and shoulders. Drustan glanced back to see if she was happy with steering and when she nodded contentedly his eyes fell to studying the rigging. Aiofe watched her younger brother’s eyes flicking from boom to rigging to sail.
“What are you thinking little brother?”
“Oh nothing; well, nothing much;”
“Is it another idea for the boat?”
“Don’t know. Just thinking; anyway we can’t do anything about it now, not out here, not in this.”
They continued making westing for several hours until all were confident they had the sea room to clear the headland with plenty of manoeuvring room to spare. Such was the intercourse between the three siblings that it only took a brief exchange of glances from the trio to agree the change of course. Drustan and Mabina slackened the sail as Aiofe put the wind further astern to run free before the wind. Little Arina understood all the seamanship but she marvelled at the unspoken communication. Had the men folk of her tribe been so interconnected and co-operative instead of bickering and arguing as the Norse pirates approached from the sea then they might just have beaten off the raiders attack.
'However ‘it’s no use crying over spilt milk now,’ she concluded silently. ‘She was lucky to have been rescued by such brave and seamanlike cousins who at least spoke the same tongue.’
Once more she found herself cuddling up to Aiofe as the boat sped ever south. The older girl smiled and exchanged knowing glances with the twins.
‘After all,’ thought Aiofe, ’if the twins and I are uncertain of our fate; what fears must beset the poor Demetae child.’
Eventually, as the long summer evening began to finally darken, the storm abated. Summer storms were usually short lived. Soon they levelled with the perilous headland. Aiofe eventually recognised the next headland as it emerged into view.
“We’ll have to keep going south. There’s some bad reefs close inshore and also over by those islands to the west. Once we’ve levelled with the second headland we can turn due east. Morgaran told me that this is the very tip of our Celtic island.
“It will be dark before we reach that headland,” Mabina observed as she steadied the boat from a particularly steep swell, “and we seem to entering shallower waters.”
They all watched the seas starting to heap up and frowned fearfully. For all her remembered details of the route to Frankdom, Aiofe’s knowledge was not encyclopaedic. Suddenly Drustan spotted seven sharp rocks as their dagger-like points cleaved the rolling swells to create a boiling cauldron of destruction fine on the starboard bow.
“Oh Nodens arse!” Cursed Drustan as he pointed to the rocks and frantically screamed to Mabina. “Port sister, port for all your life! For all our lives!!”
Mabina could tell immediately by Drustan’s voice that this was no time for discussion and anyway Aiofe had now spotted the deadly trap and joined with Drustan as they desperately trimmed the sail to give Mabina scope. Mabina leaned desperately on the rudder to little effect and she called to Arina.
“Help me here girl. The tiller; pull on your side! Pull for all your worth!!”
Arina had also spotted the peril by now and she leapt to Mabina’s aid. As the tiller finally conceded defeat, the Angry Mermaid relinquished her headlong southerly dash and slowly, reluctantly came around to port. Drustan and Aiofe now turned to Mabina and their expressions gave voice to their fears. If Mabina turned too suddenly they could broach in the swells that were now beginning to break. It was a fine judgement between applying enough helm to clear the visible rocks and not applying so much as to broach the boat. As to any submerged dangers they could only trust to luck. Everybody’s eyes searched fearfully for easier, longer seas that would signify deeper, safer water. Then their eyes were drawn irresistibly to the seven vicious black teeth sweeping down their starboard side. The roar and crash of the thundering breakers terrified them and Drustan stepped aft in case help was needed with the helm. Mabina noticed his approach and smiled reassurance.
“I’m holding her but we’re in Nodens hands now.”
“Even as she spoke, there was a deafening roar as a huge sea swept over the rocks and broke on the east side into a welter of anger. The surf broke violently and poured green water into the Angry Mermaid. For several seconds panic ensued as the boat lurched and rolled sickeningly. Arina let out a scream of despair but the Gangani trio were made of sterner stuff. The wave had helped as well as hindered for it had pushed the boat to the east and away from the dreadful trap. They were free of the breakers but the boat still rolled and flopped sickeningly as the free water slopped dangerously in the very belly of the boat.
“We’ll have to bail her!” Aiofe shouted. “Quickly! All hands.”
Now they were clear of the rocks, Mabina had space to manoeuvre again and she cautiously tested the course until she reached the best compromise between the sail steadying the boat without capsizing it due to free surface water. Drustan looked up and smiled; ‘his twin knew what to do instinctively’.
With three pairs of hands bailing and the boat on a steadier course to give surer footing, they soon had the boat dry but it was now nightfall and there were no stars or moon.
“I vote we trim the sail and drift during the night.” Mabina suggested. “With the boat silent, we’ll hear any surf in these seas and have time to get away. Besides, these light north-westerly winds are blowing us clear of the headland now.”
“I agree,” Drustan replied, “but we’d best put out a drag to reduce drift, I want to be able to see the land in the morning. Nodens knows what’s out there to the west.”
“What of the tide?” Aiofe added.”
They all fell silent then Arina volunteered.
“It should be the same as our headland so at this time of the moon it should be setting south, at least until sunrise. I may be out by an eighth of the day though; we’ve come a long way from my village.”
A south setting tide would do for it took them away from both headland and the islands. For want of better information they settled on casting a drag over the bow and trusting to the gods. Not all trust was put in Nodens’ lap however, they posted double lookouts, two watched, while two slept. Aiofe was glad they had brought the child Arina along; it shared the burden of watches. During the night the unseasonal wind blew itself out completely and the wind backed around to a light northerly
zephyr. Aiofe and Mabina let Drustan and Arina lie on asleep as dawn’s fingers searched across the eastern sky. It was the familiar squeaks of a school of porpoises aroused them and the four leaned over the side to try and entice them nearer. The porpoises were more interested in the shoal of herring that had ‘shoaled’ under the boat and they were corralling them into a tight ball.
Soon the herring were leaping frantically around the boat as the porpoises circled tightly. Drustan had an idea and they quickly took the spare linen sail to make a primitive net. Then he and Mabina swam out from the boat and spread the square sheet on the surface. The herring seemed to think that this offered refuge from the porpoises and several dozen had leapt out of the water and straight into the sail before Drustan and Mabina had even finished spreading the sail out. Aiofe and Arina needed no further bidding and they hauled in the extended sheets to trap the precious fish in the belly of the sail. Before they knew it, the four had more fish than they knew what to do with.
As he and Mabina held the ends of the sail closed, Aiofe and Arina scooped out as many of the big fish as they could reach. Drustan was separating the smaller fry out of the sails’ belly and throwing them back into the sea so that they could eventually recover the sail. Suddenly he savoured the delight of a dolphin snatching a fish from his own hand as Mabina gazed enraptured from the other side of the sail.
“They’re tame! They’re friendly!” Mabina squealed as a porpoise nosed at her naked body and pressed its beak into her curved belly then probed her private parts.
She squeaked with a mix of fear and delight then copied her brother and offered a sprat to the porpoise. Drustan then felt the same knowing prod of the porpoise’s beak as it nosed into his male parts and squeaked excitedly. Soon the porpoises were surrounding both children expectantly and they shrieked with pleasure as they eagerly distributed the smaller fish to the school.
The fun was such that they repeated the exercise with the spare linen sail a second time but this time Arina and Aiofe savoured the joy of doing the feeding and they offered all the captured herring, - big and small, to the porpoises.
Then the mood of the porpoises seemed to change. The clicks and squeaks became more rapid and urgent as the porpoises started to dive and circle frantically.
“What’s got into them?” Shouted Mabina.
“Don’t know, something’s upset them,” Drustan replied, “they’re going deeper and gathering down below there’s a, - Ahhgg! Shit! Out of the water, now!”
Aiofe and Arina needed no second warning; all were familiar with the dangerous denizen’s that lurked in the depths. They scrambled out of the water even as a lethal torpedo shape streaked past the Mermaid then disappeared as fast as it had come.
“Was that a shark?” Gasped a disbelieving Drustan.
“Yes and that’s what frightened the porpoises look they’re coming back.” Aiofe observed.
As her words ended the porpoises arrived collectively just outside the linen sail and the four sailors were stunned to see that they were supporting a smaller baby porpoise that had obviously suffered some sort of wound. It was squeaking and clicking desperately as the adults struggled to keep it afloat.
“D’you think it needs help,” Mabina wondered.
“How?” Wondered Drustan.
“Well they seem to be holding it up with its head out of the water. If we supported it in the sail then they wouldn’t have to keep bumping it and nudging it. It doesn’t look very happy being pushed and prodded and that’s a bad bite on its fin. It’s almost hanging off.”
“So what d’you intend to do Sis?” Drustan mocked, “Sow it back on?”
“If I can, yes. They gave us all these lovely fish; at least we can try to return a good deed.”
Drustan turned to Aiofe as he often did when he was unsure of something.
“What d’you think big sister?”
“Can’t do any harm but who’s going back in the water?”
Bravado prompted the boy to take the plunge and the girls stared in amazement as the porpoises actually encircled their brother clicking furiously as if they realised help was at hand for their precious youngster. Drustan gently coaxed the baby and its mother into the sail then the girls tightened the lines and the sail formed a comfortable cradle. Mabina was into the sail even as her brother slipped back into the water and with her powerful sail needle she quickly had the split dorsal fin reattached to the root on the dolphin’s spine. Drustan frolicked with the porpoises and squealed as the water beasts constantly nuzzled his belly and his private parts. He blushed when Aiofe pointed out that they seemed unduly curious about Drustan’s manhood.
Reluctantly, Drustan crawled back aboard as Mabina was finishing the last stitch to the young porpoise’s dorsal fin. She gently ‘tested’ it for stiffness because Drustan had pointed out that the porpoise’s dorsal fin had exactly the same function as the Mermaids dagger board. Satisfied that they had done all they could, the four lowered the lines and the sail floated lazily on the water as mother and baby carefully swam free. The four looked with satisfaction as the pod remained around the boat clicking and squeaking with evident gratitude.
“Job done sisters,” Drustan grinned, “but we can’t stay here all day. Time to be making headway.”
Reluctantly, the four set course and the dolphins stayed with them. Eventually the porpoises seemed to tire of the pleasure and the sailors bid them farewell. Next they finally set course to round the southernmost headland, for the seas were calmer, the huge, long, rolling, mountainous swells had eased and the passage was set fair for Southern shores of the Dumnonii lands. It was still a fine, clear sunny morning with plain sailing.
Noon found them approaching the southernmost headland and the four wondered what awaited them on the other side. Aiofe had described a wide deep inlet with a single largish town and several small settlements on the banks. The inlet led deep inland just like Arina’s haven and Aiofe remembered it as a well sheltered, deeply wooded estuary with plenty of excellent places to anchor with deep sticky mud. However, with the Norsemen having already destroyed Arina’s happy peace the four had no idea of their reception. As they made the easting of the southernmost tip of the headland they encountered the vicious chop of the ebbing tide race that fought the incoming westerly swell and the northerly cross-wind. The sea turned white with rearing horses that tossed the Mermaid violently but the tightly hauled reach kept her steady and the heavy load of fresh fish kept her stable.
The fish might prove a useful trading commodity if or when they found a congenial settlement. Despite the boat’s lively movement, Arina, the fisherman’s daughter, was busily gutting the fish and a long pennant of gulls trailed aft of the Mermaid. Mabina had never fished for a living and they marvelled as the girl of just ten summer’s fingers flashed expertly to flick entrails after entrails to the following gulls.
Sadly in these violent days of piracy and war, visitors were rarely welcome and strangers even less so. It did not help that the Mermaid had an unusual configuration that in some ways resembled a Viking war ship with its high narrow prow but a more seaworthy trading ship’s broad, rounded stern, ‘like a fat chicken’s arse,’ Morgaran had laughed until he had seen her paces. The secret of her speed however lay in the deep broad fore-hull where the mast was stepped and then the long easy taper to the wide stern. The underwater shape totally belied the upper-works and that was the happy accident that gave the mermaid her uncanny and inexplicable turn of speed.
Eventually the mermaid clawed her way clear of a tide race that locals had always avoided because of the force and the unnecessary effort that had to be expended to defeat it. Their slower boats had invariably been swept up or down the long channel that bordered the southern shore of the Romano-Celtic Island. Far better to await the turn of tide and use it to advantage. The mermaid’s crew however new nothing of the local tides and each leg of their escape was proving to be an adventure despite Aiofe’s’ knowledge of past voyages. She could not be expected to remember everything.
The Angry Mermaid’s successful transit of the unfavourable tides had not gone un-noticed ashore. Several shiploads of heavily armed men in leather tunics and iron helmets were lurking in a narrow inlet. Malicious eyes looked enviously at the unusual craft as it sped through the choppy seas with almost ungodly speed and agility. Preparations were swiftly set in hand to pursue the intruder and find out more about it. It was to be the Norse raider’s first overt act of piracy in their declaration of war against the Dumnonii settlements.
The raiders had only arrived that early morning themselves and they had hidden in the narrow inlet behind the headland while scout parties had been sent inland to check out the native defences. Now those scout parties had returned that very noon time to report and gloat about the unpreparedness of the settlements ashore. Here was a fine harbour and several comfortable settlements including a small town to be taken in one afternoon. The Vikings believed they had found Odin’s pot of gold.
It just remained to first capture the impudent little craft that had appeared so unexpectedly and then boldly sped past their trap. They did not want their presence announced too early. Shock and surprise were vital tools in the Norsemen’s strategy.
The Viking long ship that had been pre-prepared to intercept any ship approaching the sound erupted out of the inlet and set off in hot pursuit as the sweeps beat a frantic rhythm to catch their prey. Aiofe gasped when she spotted the long low profile sliding menacingly out from behind the tall rocks.
“By the gods, look at that bloody black sail with the red flame! They’re Blueface's raiders!” She screamed.
The others turned as one to follow Aiofe’s gaze and various curses erupted as one.
“Damn it! Have they spread this far south?” Drustan cursed.
“Don’t know little brother. She’s a fast one though. Look at those sweeps going!”
“We’ll not beat her on this tack.” Mabina cried as she measured the long-ship’s furious pace.
“So where do we go? Is the town taken?” Arina wondered.
“I can’t see any other longships inside the estuary.” Drustan shouted after he had shinned the mast.
“Any smoke, any other signs?” Aiofe called.
“No. Not as far as I can see. Just people moving as you’d expect.”
“Celt or Viking?”
“Can’t say. Just people.”
A nervous mood settled upon them as they stared fearfully at the pursuing long-ship and debated what to do.
“Why are they after us then? Why don’t they attack the town?” Mabina wondered aloud. “Surely there are richer pickings in the town!”
“Perhaps they’re not strong enough to attack the town. There’s only one ship.” Aiofe reasoned but with little conviction.
“So why then, do they chase us?” Arina cried again. “We’ve got nothing, just a load of fish.”
Mabina and Drustan exchanged knowing looks for only they two knew of the gold and silver that had been sent with them to pay for the ships, not to mention the large cache of copper lying deep in the belly of the boat. Even Aiofe had not learned of the treasure lying buried under the load of slimy slippery fish. She thought the covered weight was stone ballast.
“We’re still a prize little cousin.” Cautioned Aiofe. “You know how fast we go. They must have seen us rounding the heads so now they are greedy and want our secrets.”
“And they’ll get them if we carry on this reach. We are too close hauled.”
“But if we pay off we’ll not reach the town. We are too far to warn them.” Aiofe cursed again.
“By the gods, would that we could close this bloody northern wind.”
“It’s no use,” Mabina cried, “we’ll not beat her unless we pay off and take a broader reach.”
“And then we’ll never make the sound,” Added Drustan, somewhat unnecessarily. “What d’you propose big sis?”
“Let’s head more easterly along the coast. We can just about hold them on a broad reach and they can’t keep that pace up forever.”
“Then what?” Mabina demanded.
“I don’t know,” Drustan confessed, “once we are free of them then perhaps find a horse ashore and one of us ride to the town. Find out what’s going on; find out if the town is Celt or Norse.”
“First shed the shadow,” Aiofe finished, “if they can row like that it’ll be a long time before we rid ourselves of those wolves.”
“Double back when it’s dark,” Arina suggested timidly.
“Not a bad idea little cousin, Drustan smiled, “we’ll make a warrior of you yet.”
“I don’t want to be a warrior; I want to be a queen.”
The three siblings smiled as Mabina added.
“Queens have to fight for their throne if they are not born to it. Were you born to be a queen Arina?”
“No. I’m just a fisherman’s daughter.”
“Then your fight will be hard and probably very long. Queens don’t give up their thrones easily.”
“Then let’s start now.” Cried Arina with a courage she did not really feel.
The others smiled again but Mabina felt Arina’s little hand join hers and tighten on the tiller while Drustan hauled just that bit tighter on the main sheet. The Angry Mermaid like the mixed blood racehorse she was, leapt even faster across the shallow offshore waves and soon they had the measure of the failing long-ship rowers.
As victory reached down from the gods to reward them, darkness fell and they doubled back as soon they felt safe enough to do so. Drustan looked up at the sail they had blackened with the soot from Arina’s fire and thanked the stars that they had thought to do so. A black sail with black masts was all but invisible in the stygian blackness of the new moon. Now however, they had the danger of the dark to contend with; speeding along on a broad reach towards a rocky shore was an invitation to disaster even though there was a deep, broad open river mouth to aim for. Even Aiofe knew little of these waters for her trips to Frankish lands and Gaul had taken her south of these coasts after rounding the great rocks were land seemed to end.
I the darkness all eyes strained desperately for the slightest tell-tale of broken water or crashing surf that would have betrayed the dreaded rocks but as dawn broke they found themselves back almost where they had been when the Norsemen’s trap had been sprung. They breathed a sigh of relief as the broad sound opened up to invite them and they found themselves resting easy on their heels for the first time since leaving Arina’s home. As they entered the smoother waters of the sound, The Angry Mermaid finally stilled her restless galloping and aching calves found comfort on the steadied deck. It was only then, as the dawn’s light spread westwards that the four realised their troubles were far from over. Speeding northwards from their temporary lair, the Norsemen’s fleet was thrashing up a welter of white water as their long sweeps beat a frantic pace to catch the town of Bohor and the surrounding hamlets unawares.
“We must raise the alarm!” Arina shrieked as fear lent panic to her torment, “these brutes know no mercy!”
“But how?” Cursed Aiofe.
It was now Drustan’s turn to smirk as he burrowed under the cold slimy fish to eventually unearth the giant, verdigreesed horn that he had determinedly stolen from the Viking lookouts who had occupied Arina’s humble home.
“I knew this would come in handy, help me clear the mouthpiece.”
Mabina leapt to help her twin and they quickly cleared the horn’s throat of slime and fish-scales.
“Have you enough breath to blow that brother?” Aiofe asked.
“I can but try.”
Aiofe frowned as Drustan bent to the huge horn and blew for all he was worth. It was useless; his juvenile lungs simply did not have the capacity. Then Aiofe tried and failed as did Mabina. The three of them cursed then watched fascinated as Arina stood to the mighty horn.
“You have to tremble your lips like this." She explained timidly. "Those evil bullies showed me when they were posted as lookouts in our family home.”
So saying, the little ten-year-old girl embarrassed her older cousins by slowly building up the vibrations in her lips to finally match the horn’s harmonics until a long sonorous wail escaped the mighty bronze maw. The trio howled with joy and clapped furiously as the sound rolled and thundered across the broad inlet.
“Bravo, little cousin, Bravo! Bravo!”
Arina continued repeating the haunting groan and within minutes figures appeared swarming from the houses whilst hurriedly girding their loins for war.
Arina finally rested from her exhausting endeavours and smiled.
“Well! They know what a Viking lookout horn sounds like now. That’ll set them to battle and bloody quick!”
“Let’s bloody hope they don’t mistake us for a Norsemen’s ship. The Mermaid’s prow has an uncanny resemblance.” Aiofe cautioned.
“Well let’s give them the message loud and clear,” Mabina concluded. “There seem to be less settlements further up the sound. Arina when you get your breath, start that horn again and warn the whole bloody river.”
Arina needed no second bidding and she bent to again as the trio set to manoeuvring the Mermaid further up the river where the channel progressively narrowed. Soon crowds of celtic menfolk started appearing on the banks shouting at the foursome.
“You’d better speak to them Sis,” Drustan suggested. A woman’s voice won’t be a threat.
Aiofe grinned condescendingly.
“Why has your voice broken then brother?”
“Use your best, baritone, bro!” Mabina sniggered.
“Ha, - ha. Very funny, I don’t think,” riposted Drustan as he yelled ‘FRIENDS ‘at the top of his boy soprano lungs.
“The crowd fell silent as somebody who obviously had authority raised his sword to quell the tumult. Then he bellowed his question.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Drustan ap Caderyn ap Erin of the Gangani. We bring warning of the Norsemen’s attack on the town.”
“You blow a Norsemen’s horn!”
“We sound an alarm. Go and see for yourselves.”
The leader was obviously a man of wit and he immediately sent half of his clan racing south to reinforce the town of Bohor.
He now recognised that the little boat with but four souls aboard, and three of them girls at that, presented little threat. He lowered his sword as The Angry mermaid finally deigned to approach the wooden jetty. Even so Mabina spilled the wind and hove to several ship-lengths short while Drustan dropped a modest stone anchor over the wall. The four sailors had little to protect themselves and the tumultuous crowd were all armed.
“Why won’t you come alongside, we can speak!” The leader called. “I am Penderol, leader of the Val clan of the Dumnonii.”
“We can speak from here, and then everybody can witness as we have to shout.”
“Why so? You can trust us.”
“We trust no-one we’ve been betrayed twice yet,” Drustan lied.
Aiofe nodded agreement and silenced Arina’s protest
“Quiet cousin. Drustan’s being cautious. He’s right; we can trust no-one in these dark times.”
Penderol the chief shouted across the water.
“Besides bad news, have you brought anything else?”
“What d’you mean; bad news,” Drustan replied angrily.
“The damned Norsemen.”
“Instead of wasting breath here, go and help your brothers down at the river’s mouth.”
“And then the other Norsemen attack from the land.”Penderol riposted.
Drustan turned to Aiofe in puzzlement.
“What other Norsemen?”
The girls all shrugged bemusedly for none of them knew of any other raiders. Drustan called back to the chief.
“What other raiders? We know of no others.”
“That butcher, Blueface Carl!”
Drustan was none the wiser but Aiofe gave a shudder and a fearful curse.
“That’s the brute who murdered grandmother! Rermember that sail, Black with the red flame. That's Blueface's emblem. He has a brutish blue scar from eye to jaw and his men call him Blueface.”
“Then he must have passed us when we were resting in Arina’s house!” Drustan reckoned.
“But why would he be coming so far south?” Mabina wondered.
“Greed. He’s looking to conquer more land.” Finished Aiofe.
“They won’t stop until they have stolen all the land,” Arina observed tearfully, “no land, no tribe is safe.”
“You may be right there cousin,” Drustan finished. “This thief must be stopped.”
“How?” Asked Aiofe. “Just look at their faces, they all fear him, this Blueface; and the Dumnonii were never the bravest of warriors.”
Drustan turned to study the crowd gathered on the jetty They certainly wouldn’t have instilled fear in a Viking long-ship crew. Mostly inshore fishermen and farmers. He called again to Penderol.
“Where is this Blueface?”
“He landed two days hence on the north shore and marches south; already he holds the tressilian narrows, where the water ends.” The leader replied.
“So why have you not faced him?”
“The leader Penderol fell silent. In truth they had decided to wait until men came from the town of Bohor but now that the four children had brought news of the Viking raid from the south, the Dumnonii realised the pincer trap they were caught in. They would have to face the dreaded pirate and his raiders immediately to the north while the town of Bohor looked to its own defences in the south. The leader talked earnestly amongst his men and then shouted to the Angry mermaid.
“How many men can your boat carry?”
“About a score, but we are loaded with fish we hoped to trade.”
“We must empty the fish and get as many men to the Malpas narrows as we can. We can set up some sort of defence there.”
The Angry mermaid’s crew had to trust to the man’s judgement for they had no idea of the local topography.
“What does your boat draw?” Penderol called out.
“About three quarters of an arm, she is shallow but fast.” Replied Mabina.
The Dumnonii men looked at each other wondering how so shallow a boat had weathered the last two days of gale. The boat seemed to be a freakish shape, a very hodgepodge of strange features. However, they were not about to question the boat’s abilities, clearly these people were of the Gangani tribe from their Dialect and if that little boat had weathered the passage then it would certainly cope with the calm, upper reaches of the Val especially with such a shallow draught. Urgently, the Dumnonii men pleaded to use the boat. Reluctantly, Drustan and Mabina agreed. There was no other option if they were to even think of somehow stopping Blueface’s raiders. After a brief exchange of views, the Angry Mermaid’s crew reluctantly agreed to bring the boat alongside, discharge the fish and then provide transport for the Celtic warriors to ‘The Malpas’ wherever that was.
Once decided, it was but a few minutes to complete and to everybody’s satisfaction, over two dozen men were able to enter the boat. Wondering eyes cast about the Celtic men as they studied the strange features and novel innovations until Penderol turned to Mabina who seemed to be the main helmsman.
“Little maid, your craft is strange. Strange but fast, I am impressed!”
“Mabin smiled briefly as she followed the chief’s directions and the Angry Mermaid leapt to her task. Within a quarter an hour, to the Celt’s shocked disbelief, they had landed on the shore at the Malpas junction where two arms of the Val conjoined.
“Can you repeat this journey little maid?” Wondered Penderol.
“How many times, how long have we got?” Asked Drustan.
“I don’t know; I don’t know how far south Blueface has marched this morning.”
“Well you’d best hide and send out scouts while we bring more men.” Aiofe observed.
“My thoughts exactly woman,” Penderol replied.
Aiofe cast about the boat and spoke quietly to Drustan.
“Well little brother, you wanted a fight, will you stay here while Mabina and I return?”
Drustan suddenly felt very ‘un-brave’. Standing amongst grown men he began to realise how small his thirteen summers were. Nervously he swallowed then nodded uncertainly as he spoke softly to his older sister.
“I suppose I must. It means one more fighting man in the next load. Leave Arina behind at the jetty next time then it will be two extra men.”
Aiofe nodded and talked at length with Penderol before attending to the boat. Drustan wished he knew what Aiofe had been talking about. Then, without more ado, she and Mabina quickly sped south again to collect the next load. On the shore, Drustan tested his Viking bow then tried to wield the mighty sword they had collected in Arina’s roundhouse. The bow was useable, Drustan’s arms were used to carpentry and he had some strength in them; enough to draw the bow but nothing like enough to swing the mighty sword. Penderol smiled indulgently as he asked to try the sword and then deftly hefted it above his head in a dazzling series of strikes and swings.
“This is not a bad sword boy, how did you come by it?”
Drustan was sensible enough to tell the absolute truth. Their gaining of such excellent weapons by any means was saga of bravery enough for a young boy to tell.
“I stole it.” Said Drustan. “My sisters poisoned two pirates who were holding Arina as a slave and we stole their weapons. The other sword and bow are still on the Angry mermaid.”
“Well lad, it’ll serve better this day in my hand for it’s too heavy for you. Here take my long dagger, it will serve you better. Stay close to me and if we see this day out, I’ll teach you this sword so you are ready for the day you are a man to swing it.”
Penderol made a few more mighty passes over his head and smiled with satisfaction, the sword was better even than his own and he was a clan chief. If what the boy said was true, and there were two such swords then perhaps he could persuade the foursome to part with one.
While the Angry mermaid was ferrying the second contingent, the Celts made preparation to ambush Blueface’s march. Drustan being small and fast was posted as lookout with strict instructions to return directly to the ambush area immediately upon spotting Blueface’s approach.
In this chapter the Gangani trio and Arina meet the Dumnonii and find thermselves in the middle of a battle after surviving storms and tide races.
The Bitches. A Tide rip near the Demetea lands
Angry Mermaid 6
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 6
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Drustan and the youngest Dumnonii warrior named Udris sped off up the Val towards the settlement of Merth to find suitable lookout posts. Both had been issued with Celtic hunting horns with simple instructions of how to signal the Viking’s progress. The only weapons Drustan had was his bow and the long dagger that Penderol the Celtic clan leader had lent him. He realise that as a lookout, his main protection was stealth and speed. At a narrow part of the river Udris waded across the Val and the two agreed to stake out either shore as they crept northwards along the densely wooded banks of the Val. Nobody was sure of Blueface’s route.
Eventually Drustan heard the faint clatter of armed men making their way south. After identifying them as Norse raiders, he blew his horn hard and Udris answered with the correct signal from the other bank. It reassured the young boy to know his newfound comrade in arms was still there. Immediately he fell back to a high point further down the Val and secreted himself as prearranged to monitor the Viking’s progress. He was relieved to receive Udris’s reply but even more relieved to hear a response from the main party led by Penderol. The long mournful groan of the stolen Viking-horn wailed eerily up the valley.
Drustan smiled to himself. ‘The Vikings would think it was some of the other raiding party coming to meet their comrades. They were in for a shock.’
Now everybody knew where the Vikings were and Penderol could lay his ambush with care.
Drustan had counted the Vikings and silently thanked the wise moor for having taught him the new numbers, ‘it was just so much easier to remember and mark down.’ He cautiously followed the pirate gang down the valley and was surprised to realise how bold they were. They left no pickets or lookouts but simply trampled forward supremely confident in their ability to defeat just about anything in their path.
At a third pre-arranged location Drustan gave the third locational signal to let everybody know exactly where the Vikings were. This time there was no reply from the Viking —horn but Udris responded just to reassure the nervous Drustan. The battle would soon be joined.
Drustan was no further use as a lookout, for the main Celtic party were now set to ambush the invading Norsemen. He clambered up to a high point overlooking the Val and set about monitoring the progress of the battle. Firstly he was relieved to see Udris wave to him from across the Val and he realised he was too exposed. ‘If Udris could spot him so easily then the pirates could.’ He retreated away from the ledge back into some bushes that would protect his back then he settled down to watch. Further down the Val he spotted the Angry Mermaid with what must have been a third load or possibly even a fourth load of five and twenty Celts frantically making every effort to reinforce their comrades. Drustan hoped that it was a fourth load for that would make more than a hundred warriors. He wrote 100 in the new numbers in the dust and then deducted the 70 Viking men he had counted and sighed with relief. There were more than 30 extra Celts. Despite the Norsemen’s superior weapons, the Celts now had the superior numbers and the element of surprise. It remained for The Angry mermaid to arrive in time; and arrive she did.
The progress of the battle was a series of happy accidents. As the Vikings emerged from the trees they saw what they thought was a single boatload of ill equipped Celts hoping to land on the bank of the Val to confront them. Drustan could see the scorn that spread as laughter amongst the Vikings as they watched the stupid suicidal Celts approaching. They were hopelessly outnumbered.
From his high point, Drustan could see where the ambush was laid out so he fired a flame arrow towards the Angry Mermaid. It was simply a signal to draw attention to himself and as Aiofe looked up she spotted her brother waving frantically to land the mermaid some several hundred paces further down the Val where Penderol had laid his trap. He did not know that Aiofe had already pr-arranged this move without Drustan’s or Udris’s knowledge. If Drustan did not know, he could not be tortured into revealing the plan.
Drustan breathed a huge sigh of relief as he watched Mabina swing the new-fangled tiller and seemingly point The Angry Mermaid back whence it had come. To the Vikings it looked as though the Celts had refused to give battle and they jeered abuse as they trotted down the wooded bank to keep pace with the cowardly Celts. In their arrogance, the Norsemen had not noticed the speed of the Angry Mermaid as she repeated her convolutions several times. Up and down the Val, the mermaid sped with the Vikings following her until they ran out of breath.
At first Drustan became impatient as he watched his sister’s antics but then he noticed the Vikings were separating as some sat down to rest whilst others carried on following the boat up and down the Val until the main body of the Vikings was lessened by scattered stragglers. Finally, Mabina put into a prearranged spot in a narrow inlet between two rocky outcrops where the Vikings would only be able to attack in strength from the front. To attack any landings from the sides, the heavily armed Vikings would have to clamber over some steep sharp rocks.
The Celtic leader of the men in the boat had shown Mabina the predetermined spot that they had agreed with Penderol and her own ship-handling skills had enabled a rapid turn and approach to catch the Vikings off guard.
When Blueface realised the Celts were actually going to land he let out a snarl of frustration and cursed his resting men to action. The Celts would be ashore with a defensible beach-head if he did not reorganise his scattered raiding party quickly.
As the Celts landed between the high rocks and prepared for the onslaught the Vikings arrived in broken groups to attack in a haphazard frenzy as their anger at being so easily tricked, overcame their caution.
Even with all the advantages that the Angry Mermaid had gained for the Celts by fatiguing the invading Norsemen and then landing at an advantageous spot, the Celts were still in great danger of being overwhelmed. They were in the main fishermen and farmers whilst the Vikings were battle hardened warriors. Desperately they had to hold their thin line until Penderol had all the Vikings in the rocky enclave with their backs to the landward ambush as they fought the sea-born, newly landed Celts.
Finally, Penderol had the invaders where he wanted them and he gave a silent signal to his men. They emerged from the forest silently so as not to warn the preoccupied Norsemen and they struck before the invaders even realised they were there. The Vikings had formed a seaward facing shield wall to drive the Celts back into the sea but they presented unprotected backs to the forest. Twenty Norsemen were dead before they fully realised they were being attacked from the rear.
With a deafening roar, Blueface realised his blunder but he now had to divide his forces. Some facing the shore-side Celts whilst others turned to face the forest attack.
Despite the Celt’s overwhelming positional and numerical advantage it was still a hard-fought battle. Not for nothing were the Vikings held in dread and awe and their rapidly reversed shield wall served to allow Blueface and his cadre of jarls to fight their way out of trouble. As the remaining Viking ranks were whittled away by man-sword and maiden's-arrow, eventually the small coterie of battle hardened veterans stood defiantly behind their shield wall challenging all-comers to kill them. It was something of a stalemate for much blood had been spilt. Penderol had four score men left of his original five whilst nearly three score Vikings lay dead or dying on the beach.
He did not want any more of his scarce Celts dead for the villages and settlements on the upper Val could not function without men folk enough to till the fields and fish the boats. Blueface had only a handful of men around him, Drustan counted ten as he sped down from his high place to confront the butcher who had murdered his beloved grandmother Giana.
“That’s the man Penderol, that’s the butcher who murdered my family.” He screamed.
Penderol lunged forward to stop the boy but Drustan was too quick and nimble. With an insane fury born of the dreadful loss of his beloved family, Drustan dived at the feet of the Vikings and scrambled under the shield wall with only his long dagger. The Vikings had never encountered such a suicidal frenzy before. Their shield walls were designed to face outwards with the swords facing out at body and head height to confront an upright attacker. No account had ever been taken of a small suicidal child diving low under the wall where the great land-battle-shields tapered to allow foot-room. The Vikings found it difficult to reach out over their long wall shields and strike down low at the lightning fast child. Before Blueface could reverse his sword and bring it inside the ring of shields to stab downwards at the invading fury, Drustan had already slashed and stabbed several times at the giant’s feet and legs. His whirlwind action set up such a commotion inside the crowded shield wall that the organisation of the circle started to fail. A gap appeared between the shields where Blueface’s mighty sword had been withdrawn inwards to address the stabbing danger below.
The shields parted as Blueface struggled to make room to swing or even just stab his sword downwards at the furious screaming child.
With one hand locked into the straps of his shield, Blueface could not get leverage and direction enough to accurately pin the writhing catlike fury at his feet.
He could hardly even see the boy hidden beneath the skirt of his heavy leather battle tunic; nor could he even turn or twist around without releasing his hand from his shield and that would break the shield wall. He stamped his bleeding feet furiously and several times caught the boy some mighty kicks while the boy hung desperately to the giant’s thighs and screamed from rage and agony. But with Blueface’s every effort to kick and stamp, Drustan's long hunting knife found another mark until at last the boy crawled up under Blueface’s chainmail skirt found a vital point in the giant’s unprotected groin. The mighty Viking released a scream of anger and pain, drove his sword downwards in one violent desperate slash then collapsed amongst his comrades as blood poured copiously from under his tunic. Seeing their leader killed, the remaining warriors broke from their shield-wall and flung themselves upon the surrounding Celts to ensure their entrance into Valhalla. It was short and deadly. With the battle tested shield wall dismantled it was but seconds before all the Norsemen lay dead and a deathly silence descended as the shocked Celts surveyed the awful scene. To a man, the Celts were too stunned to comprehend their victory and they sat gasping as they tried to come to terms with the carnage.
Aiofe and Mabina flung their bows into the bilges and immediately landed their boat and dashed to Penderol for news.
“My brother! Where’s my brother?”
With tears in his eyes the shocked Penderol silently pointed his sword at the bloodied heap at the centre of the Viking’s last stand.
“He’s under there. He’s dead. Blueface’s last sword stroke.”
Mabina let out a shriek of despair and flung herself at the heap of bloodied flesh. As she struggled move the dead mountain of flesh that had once been the dreaded Blueface it was only then that she recognised her twin brother’s terrified, barely audible whimper. She let out a squeal of rejoicing and screamed to Aiofe.
“He’s alive; he’s not dead!”
In one bound both Aiofe and Penderol reached the crumpled heap and quickly dragged the giant clear of the boy’s crushed body.
Drustan let out a raucous grunt as he desperately sucked in air and reached feebly to touch Mabina’s tearful face. Finally he found a reedy, frightened voice.
“I’m not dead sis, but by Cnab’s blood it bloody hurts.”
“Oh brother, brother, brother! Thank Airmid that you are with us. Where does it hurt?”
“Every-bloody-where! Ouch! Dammit sister! Easy now. The cheek of my arse and my balls hurt most! I am split like a kipper.”
Aiofe and Mabina carefully turned their brother over, found the huge slash still bleeding copiously and looked up at Penderol who grinned.
“By the God Cnab, he got that as he squirmed under Blueface’s last sword strike, when he squirmed up between Blueface’s legs! I saw the sword strike him. Well he’ll have a fine scar, but only those who saw the fight will know it was an honourable scar. Most will think he was running away! You’d better weave a fine saga and fast young ladies if you don’t want detractors to say he was a coward.”
So saying, he reached down and tenderly ran a warrior’s hands over the boy to check for any broken bones. Drustan winced when Penderol gently felt his ribs and found some broken ones.
“Aye lad, you’re a brave one and no mistake, but a crazy one. Your sisters are going to have to nurse you my lad. I think Blueface broke some ribs when that pile of butchery collapsed upon you.”
“And the cut on his arse?” Asked Mabina barely concealing her smile, partly through amusement but mainly from relief that her twin was alive.
“Oh it’s quite deep and it runs right under to his manhood." Penderol obsereved as he also hid his smile. Look he’s split like a kipper. The bleeding’s eased so lots of herbs and sympathy should do the trick.”
Penderol studied the ferocious wound more closely then gave his warriors opinion.
“You can’t put stitches all the way down there, you’ll block his arsehole. You’d best stitch down as far as his arsehole where the sword skidded sideways and slashed deep into his arse then leave the other bit to heal itself. They say you’re good with herbs as well as ships my girl, is that right?”
Mabina smiled as Penderol examined Drustan’s bloodied crotch.
“I’m a bit worried about where the sword tip nicked his manhood but it’s at the back of his balls and at least he’s still a man. That’s a cruel cut though. Best bring your herbs here girl.”
“They’re in the boat. I’ll get them.”
As Mabina hurried back to the beached Mermaid, Penderol turned to Aiofe and remarked.
“Herbs and ships. She’s one clever kid.”
“Aye. That she is,” Aiofe confirmed, “and she has letters, - and numbers.”
“By Matra’s holy womb! You children would be an asset to any tribe. Would you consider staying with us of the Dumnonii?”
Mabina wagged her head sadly.
“Would we be safe from the Norsemen?”
“If you all fight like your brother you’d be safe from Cnab himself! We’d love for you to stay my child.”
Mabina was fearful of causing offence by refusing so she let the remark go unanswered. Penderol recognised the girl’s tact and pressed the invitation no further. After all there was no certainty yet that the town of Bohor was still in Celtic hands. This thought brought Penderol back to reality as he remembered the other raid on the town..
“Dammit! The task is not yet finished. I wonder how the town of Bohor fares?”
He arranged for the ten least able warriors to attend to the wounded and dead then invited Mabina and Aiofe to ferry his remaining warriors to seek news or even assist if the fighting still prevailed.
Wearily the men agreed; it would do no good to have defeated the Norsemen up in the Val if the main seaport trading town of Bohor was lost to their tribe. They were however, grateful for the Angry Mermaid’s services once again.
The men searched the Viking corpses and took what weapons were better than their own; mainly swords for the Norsemen had plentiful supplies of high grade iron far to the north in the Fiord of Narv.
Reluctantly Penderol handed Blueface’s mighty sword to Drustan with a rueful smile.
“You’ve more than earned it lad, but it’ll be some years before your big enough to wield it. It’s the finest sword I’ve ever seen. I envy you.”
Drustan looked at the fine detailed Rhunic craftsmanship and sighed reluctantly as he lay in the boat while Mabina tended his sensitive and embarrassing wound. Drustan struggled to hold the sword upright and conceded defeat as he returned the huge weapon to Penderol.
“A sword must not sleep even when lying in wait for a new owner. You take it; use it until or unless I return for it when I am older, and bigger.”
Tears of appreciation filled Penderol’s eyes. ‘Here was a boy of honour!’ He thought; ‘a fine credit to his father Caderyn and his grandfather Erin, a boy he would gladly call as his own.’
With his brave and better armed Men, Penderol left the wounded to be tended as he returned to the battle. Mabina however demanded that Drustan be returned to the village.
On the speedy passage down the Val Penderol chatted with the two girls Mabina and Aiofe. They stopped briefly at the village jetty to land the wounded Drustan and spread the news of their victory and report the dead. The news left many women in tears, then they sped as fast as fast as the overloaded Mermaid could go.
To their relief the found the battle still ongoing. The town was just about holding its own and the sudden arrival of thirty extra, well armed allies from far up the Val gave them the final edge. It was a relieved citizenry who finally welcomed Penderol and his troop as they harried the Invaders from the sea and pinned the Norsemen once again between two ranks of Celts. As the last Norseman was taken down, the council leader met with the bloodied Penderol.
"By Cnab’s whiskers Penderol! What kept you?”
“Blueface and his butchers.”
“Blueface! Oh shit, then we are done for!”
“Blueface is dead brother! Look! This is his sword!”
“By the Gods! Are you saying you’ve beaten him?”
“Not I brother, a slip of a boy no less; Drustan ap Caderyn ap Erin and younger brother to this beautiful maid and twin to this brave little girl. This wonderful sword is his by rights and only mine to hold in trust until he is of age and body to wield it. I hope I have done the boy and the sword honour in this fight.”
“You’ve won haven’t you?” The council leader observed. “We’ve all won! So both you and the sword are not disgraced.” The council leader replied. Come let us assess the damage. Where is this remarkable boy?”
“He’s resting back at our village. He was wounded by Blueface before he killed the giant. His wounds are amusing; you will laugh when you learn where he has them, but they are truly honourable; doubly so for a boy of just thirteen summers. Now what’s left of my men would eat and rest first,” Penderol begged. “It’s been a hard and bloody day, two battles and much travelling. The girls as well if you please. I saw their bows add to the Viking dead. They are truly warrior queens. It was Aiofe the maid’s plan of ambush and lure that led to Blueface’s defeat, she is full of guile and cunning, we would never have defeated Blueface without her plan.
As for that boat, the Angry Mermaid, well; I hope I never fall foul of her anger; the girl child Mabina is a master of seamanship and quite amazing for one so young. We would never have mustered enough men to trap Blueface without her seamanship skills. Four boatloads of twenty plus she ferried and all in less than two hours. The boat is like a running horse. I would beg her secrets when we are yet rested and recovered."
As evening fell the Dumnonii breathed easy. Despite part of the town of Bohor being torched by the Norsemen, there was food and shelter enough to give the townsfolk and the visitors succour.
Mabina had made yet one more voyage back to pick up her brother and the other warriors as well as Udris who had cursed impotently on the opposite bank as he watched his older brothers gain all the glory. His tune soon changed when he learned of the carnage. Of his three brothers, but one survived unharmed, one other was wounded and the third dead. Despite the Celtic victory there was much pain and regret up and down the lengths of the Val and all her tributaries. Nevertheless it still irked Udris that Drustan, the slip of a boy, had gained huge battle honours. Udris little knew that Penderol had deliberately sent the boys out of danger because he had truly felt that his glorious few would not have seen the next dawn. The victory was truly down to Aiofe’s wit and guile.
There was little time for celebration for the damage had to be repaired and the dead sent to the gods. The only real gain to the Celts had been the acquisition of six fine long-ships plus whatever ships were still awaiting their leader Blueface’s return on the north shore of the Dumnonii Peninsular. After a few days rest, scouting parties were sent out but the northern ships had left. Somehow, news of the Viking’s defeat had filtered back to the Norsemen left to mind the ships. They had returned north with their tails between their legs to where disgrace awaited them.
In the town a skilled old white witch looked to Drustan’s wounds and fell silent when she treated his bloodied nethers. The blood puzzled her for it was not the fresh red blood of a new wound and it smelt bad. At first she thought the boy was gangrened but that could not be on the day the wound was suffered. She had trouble convincing herself that the blood was more like that which all women knew when the Goddess Samara paid her lunar calls but that was the conclusion she was forced to reach. She was puzzled though for the boy’s form seemed normal. He was well formed where men were different but there was some uncertainty
behind his balls. There was an additional opening that belied his proven masculinity and yet did not fully resemble a maid. The cruel cut of Blueface’s sword had left mutilation and uncertainty. However, to save the boy embarrassment after his proven courage, she told no-one. Not even the boy’s sisters.
The success of the Celtic victory meant it would be another fifty years before the Norsemen successfully arrived off the Dumnonii shores again and it was more an affiliation through honest trade than as conquering invaders. This however, was unbeknownst to the four and they wearily made further preparations for their next hoped for sanctuary. However, the four indulged their welcome and savoured a summer moon in the town of Bohor while Drustan mended his body. Later that same month, Drustan’s ‘Blueface wound’ revisited his crotch and bled inexplicably, although the cut was not painful. His stomach however was sore for a few days.
Finally the four adventurers expressed their wishes to be gone before the winter storms made trading all but impossible. Aiofe wanted desperately to meet with her moor again and possibly even wed him for that had been their mutual intention. They left Bohor having shared the secrets of The Angry Mermaid and that alone had made the Dumnonii grateful.
Finally, after many tearful farewells the four travellers took their leave of their Dumnonii cousins and the Angry Mermaid set sail south, south east for Brithony the mother country to all Celts and from whence they had first become seafarers after thousands of years wandering the northern plains of Europe. Brithony was a rich land and a land that enjoyed much intercourse with the Dumnonii. Wheat and oats for tin and copper were the main trades and it had served the Celtic tribes well.
There was still a Celto-Christian priest residing with the Dumnonii so with Latin letters of introduction from Penderol, the four used a fair wind to carry them further south and yet further away from their beloved Lleyn. Arina had been too afraid of being adopted by unknown adults of the Dumnonii tribe and she had elected to remain under Aiofe’s guardianship and tutelage. The three Acaman children, (for children they still were, though growing quickly,) were pleased and thankful for Arina’s choice. Eight eyes were always better than six to be shared around the sea watches.
On the passage, Arina learned much of open, sea journeying and by arrival in Brithony she was adept at seamanship and some coastal navigation. Aiofe had also continued teaching her the wonderful new numbers that the moor had so kindly taught the Acaman clan and also Latin letters.
Being a humble fisherman’s daughter, Arina had never been taught letters. It was only the happy trading accident and the previous onset of an early winter that had detained the moor long enough to teach the Acaman clan. They had much to thank the dark handsome man from far-off lands and Aiofe was desperately hoping to meet up with him again. She knew even before the Viking raid that her father and grandparents had given their blessings to the union so it was with a clear conscience that she sought her hoped for husband in either Brithony or Gaul.
‘But what of her younger siblings,’ she wondered, ‘would they also have to move the many days’ journeys to the moor’s home lands? And what of Arina?’
Aiofe had many worries as they finally sighted the rocky shores of Brithony.
Fortunately the weather was mild and an easy ‘lands’-man’s wind took them into a deep inlet sheltered where their Celtic tongue made them welcome at a small fishing village. The Brithons already knew of Blueface’s demise so the news of his killer’s arrival was particularly welcome and they willingly gave them supplies as a thank-you for the service Drustan had paid them. Such information and ensuing peace enabled the remote villages to lower their guard and devote more time to harvesting and fishing. Blueface’s death had a tangible material worth throughout the whole of the Celtic kingdoms.
After only two days stop, the villagers pointed them to the main city where the Brithon chiefs and council resided. It was here they would present their Latin letters of introduction to the high council. The villagers also provided a guide to take them through the infamous shoal waters that had brought disaster to many a fine ship. Mabina and Drustan paid particular attention to the local pilot’s navigation and instruction for such information was priceless in times of peril and pursuit.
Soon they came upon the wide Bae y Fron of which the Dumnonii had spoken. The descriptions of the city matched the advice that Penderol had given them and they stepped ashore to a huge crowd. News of Blueface’s death had raised huge interest and the high king was there in person no less to receive the letters of introduction and marque. The Gangani children did not know who to send ashore first so they stepped ashore as best they could together. Only Arina hesitated till last.
drustan, Aiode, Mabina and Arina finally find a safe haven and rest over the winter.
The Angry Mermaid 7.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 7
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
As the Acaman clan and their cousin Arina stepped ashore and gathered uncertainly on the quayside, the Brithonic high king and his wife Bronlwyn smiled indulgently at the naivety of the young Gangani children. They looked so timid and unsure of themselves but both he and his wife were impressed by the foursome’s achievements; tales of which had already preceded their arrival.
He reached out and took the letters proffered by Aiofe then opened the one with a seal he recognised as Penderol’s, his second cousin. As he read the letter he started to smile, then he started to chuckle and finally he started to laugh uproariously. The whole assembly stood puzzled as Aiofe frowned uncertainly. Eventually the chief turned to Drustan.
“Drop your britches boy, let me see the scar.”
Drustan’s jaw sagged disbelievingly.
“I can’t do that sire! It’s indecent, - my sisters! — your wife, - the queen!”
The chief continued laughing then suggested the boy only peel aside the waistband. This Drustan agreed to and the queen and the three girls all smiled as he self-consciously peeled the waistband of his leggings down around the curve of his buttock to reveal the top several inches of the large, angry red scar that continued right under his crotch. The Chief turned to his wife Bronlwyn as he still struggled to contain his amusement.
“Well my lady, that’s proof enough, the boy is truly Drustan Scar-arse, here read it. It’s in my cousin’s own hand. Mind you he’s still got a peachy little arse no hair as yet. The little kid’s already a battle tested hero and he’s yet to find manly muscle!”
“Dryslwyn! Where are your manners sir?!! You’re supposed to be a high king and the boy’s an honoured guest.” Bronlwyn scolded her husband as even she struggled to keep a straight face.
“It’s true my dear lady, look! Read it yourself; my cousin describes the whole incident in the most amusing detail.”
The chieftain turned to the four and stretched out his arms to welcome them into his embrace. As they stepped forward he spoke again.
“Well, you’re a fine crew and no mistake. My cousin writes many praises of your part in Blueface’s defeat. You are most welcome and most honoured. It’s hard to credit such exploits by children of only just thirteen summers."
At this Aiofe rankled slightly.
“Sir! I must correct you. I am a maid, - a maid of nineteen summers!”
“Yes; of course you are and a beautiful one at that. You have your mother Herenoie’s good looks and now, apparently, according to this excellent letter, her good sense as well. I remember Caderyn’s wife Herenoie well. She came here four times with him when they were younger. A wonderful woman and the Celts lost a pillar of wisdom when they lost dear Herenoie. Though I see from the letter that Penderol now considers you wise and clever. He even praises your fighting wit. We may yet have a substitute for Herenoie, your mother. And what of this young lady, I presume you must be Mabina, Drustan’s sister?”
“Drustan’s twin,” Mabina corrected.
“Ah yes; Mabina the navigator; the girl of letters and numbers.
“We all have letters and numbers sire,” Aiofe remarked, “even the young Arina, the Demetae fisherman’s daughter.”
Dryslwyn studied the youngest child, the Demetae girl.
“Oh yes at last we come to you my delightful child, the baby of the crew. Tell me Arina, do these Gangani ruffians treat you well?”
“Much better than the Norse pirates,” Arina replied.
The chief let out a belly laugh at these words then spoke soberly.
“Well indeed my young lady, truly they have. It would be almost impossible not to treat anybody better than those vermin do. However, for a girl who has just crossed two seas and played a part in a battle, you look remarkably well.”
“I did not fight sire. They stuck me with the women and children.”
“Yes, and quite rightly girl. You are but ten summers.”
“Nearly eleven sire. But a single quarter moon to go.”
“Oh yes, let us not forget the quarter phase. You’ll be celebrating your birthday here with us then. That is if you are staying and I presume you are.”
He turned to Aiofe and Drustan as he said this; still uncertain as to whom was the group leader.
The four of them exchanged glances then reached a common consensus. Mabina spoke for them just to add to Dryslwyn’s uncertainty.
“We can stay for a short while. No more than half a moon. The winter storms approach and we don’t know the waters.”
“So where are you aiming for? What wonderful destination awaits your coming?”
“We seek the land of Magab.” Mabina continued. “He is the moor who traded these waters and our lands last year. The moor who gave us the new numbers.”
“Magab the Moor!” Dryslwyn sounded impressed. “Well in this I can help you. Your journey is long then. He left here this vernal equinox just passed and spoke of a year’s travelling to the South.”
“A Year!” Mabina Gasped.
“Ah, that was on foot overland Mabina, and he has high mountain ranges to cross. Magab described his journey in detail and even left us a map lest one day a child of our tribe wishes to become a journeyman scholar and go to seek enlightenment.”
“On foot; overland! Then we are lost. I am a sailor, a navigator, not an explorer, a lands-man a trekker.”
“Not so Mabina. We have always known there is a way by water, between the Pillars of Hercules. We have some old trading charts left by the corsairs when they lost a ship to us during one of their raids. Their ship ran aground and they tried to fire it to prevent us seizing it. They were too slow and too late. We captured the ship and a lot of its treasures.
The charts are some of the most valuable prizes. Magab believed that they stole them from a Roman ship because the script is in Latin with some crude Nubian writings and Berber ciphers added later.
“Can we see the charts, please?” Mabina begged.
“Better still, can we copy them?” Drustan asked.
“I see no reason why not. You are kinsmen to us and none of my ships have ever traded to those parts. It’s too dangerous. They say the corsairs are a cruel race who take no male prisoners except as slaves. They practice piracy with a vicious tenacity. They were certainly ferocious warriors when they tried to raid our city and steal slaves.
“But you defeated them.” Drustan finished.
“Aye, more by luck than management. They were ignorant of and made no allowances for the tides. Senua the goddess of the moon and Nodens the Sea god were on our side that day. Three of their ships were swept onto the rocks by the tides and the men swept out to sea. They were good swimmers but nobody can fight those currents. They were left with but two ships capable of fighting. We held them at bay and finally defeated them come nightfall because we knew the land and they didn’t. It was an easy task to ambush them in the full moon as they struggled to make an escape.”
The surviving boat we kept; you might like to study it, whilst the other boat they tried to burn but the failed to complete the job. That second boat held all their charted secrets. It was a grievous loss to them and a huge bounty to us.
Come we shall eat first then you must sleep. In the morning you shall see the charts and the strange manner of their sails.”
The four agreed this amongst themselves despite Drustan itching to see the Corsair ship and Mabina’s anticipation of the charts. Dryslwyn treated them well but there was none of the usual feasting late into the night. Young children needed their sleep and even as the festivities increased, Queen Bronlwyn found her new young charges heavy lidded and sleepy.
She turned to her Husband to inform him and he crossed to his wife’s side of the high table and smiled like an indulgent father.
The three youngest were indeed asleep.
“Despite everything my lord,” Bronlwyn advised her husband, “even the fame of battles and sea voyaging. They are still children and they need their sleep. I’m putting them to bed. You can carry on feasting if you want. I see the maid Aiofe is very popular with the young bloods, just look at her dancing and laughing. I suggest you keep an eye on her.”
Dryslwyn studied the beautiful young women and the fixated youths surrounding her like bees around honey. ‘Yes, he had a duty as a host to see his noble guest safe.’
Reluctantly, Dryslwyn had to forgo the wine and beer for the remainder of the night, and keep double checking that the maid was safe. ‘Should any harm come to her, his wife Bronlwyn would murder him.’
In truth he had little cause to worry. Aiofe, was old enough and wise enough to make sure she was never alone and always in the main hall. She also carried a particularly unmaidenly dagger and knew how to use it. That night however, it was not needed and Aiofe finally found herself sharing Bronlwyn’s bed chamber as sleep finally overcame her. She woke to find herself in a comfortable single bed alongside the queen’s large marriage bed, while Bronlwyn’s lady in waiting was preparing a bath. The Celtic Queen still enjoyed the last vestiges of the Roman civilization, hot, piped water. Bronlwyn was already up and about her toilet.
“Well, sleepy head, you enjoyed the dancing then.”
“Yes. It was a splendid evening. Though I was glad of this bed; do you treat all your guests like this?”
“Only the very pretty ones, and Aiofe, you are very pretty. That makes you vulnerable, even amongst your own people. Last night I counted more eyes upon you than there were torches illuminating the hall. The moor Magab will be a very lucky man if you ever get to meet him again.”
“Surely we will. He is a prince among his own people. He comes from the place that was once known as Carthaginia.”
“Oh the place is well known my dear niece and well mapped, but for you to get there you will face a thousand perils.”
“That I know. You spoke of the corsairs for one.”
“To name but one, and a dangerous one at that. Do you not think it would be wiser to take the overland route? The Gauls are at peace with us and you would have safe passage all the way to the middle sea.”
“And then.”
“A ship to Carthaginia and you would be safe.”
Aiofe considered the offer and decided to discuss it with her siblings and the Demetae girl. She stepped into the bath and savoured the hot fresh luxury that she had not felt since leaving her beloved Lleyn.
Later she discussed it with her siblings and King Dryslwyn.
“There are still serious risks overland my cousins,” Dryslwyn advised. “There are slave traders who are always seeking to turn some gold or silver. The further from Brithony you go the more valuable will your red and gold hair appear to slavers. The middle sea peoples are darker than us and your colour would offer a tantalising distraction to some who would enslave you. You would be valuable goods.”
“So what of the sea route, those pillars you spoke of?” Drustan pressed.
“The pillars of Hercules. Oh yes, see here, the chart. They are shown as two tall towers but they are in truth just high mountains. The one to the north is reported to be very distinct and once seen rarely forgotten. It is said to be a landmark for the whole of the middle sea.”
“But is it safe uncle?”
Dryslwyn shrugged, a little embarrassed to show his ignorance. Here he was, the high king of all the Brithonic tribes who were famed for their trading and adventurism yet none in his city could tell of the Pillars of Hercules. The Corsairs had made it abundantly clear that the Pillars of Hercules were in their domain and only a fool or a very brave man would dare to try and make passage between them. Drustan was young and foolish and Aiofe was smitten to meet her moor, but the sea rout was well known to be dangerous.
Eventually, a compromise was reached. With the summer already aged and the distances to the famed Pillars of Hercules uncertain, the four were persuaded to await the coming of the next spring.
“You will have time to hone whatever skills you might need my cousins and the moor said he would be all of a year before he reached his home.” Dryslwyn explained.
The four reluctantly conceded the merits of the arguments. If there was one thing they particularly understood it was the dangers of the terrible tempests and seas that winter flung with unimaginable violence upon the Brithonic shores. They had all seen the immense inexplicable seas that thundered out of the setting sun and dwarfed the Angry Mermaid. Where the seas came from, or what unimaginable storms had born them, was something they could only imagine; perhaps some ferocious cauldron where the gods released their anger and stirred up the waters as night befell them in some dark, evil, satanic ritual. Instead the foursome decided to use their time constructively. Charts were scrupulously copied complete with all the errors and omissions that ignorance brought to them. Then the Corsair boat was studied and tested at length, especially the strange triangular sails. Drustan was excited by them. The long boom proved easier to swing and bring the sail around to meet the wind faster when the Angry Mermaid was testing the new rig but more importantly, it showed Drustan and Mabina that a sail laying fore and aft but able to reach out to the sides and scoop up a following wind made the vessel infinitely easier to handle.
Throughout the winter months, the pair tested different rigs until they had created a completely new arrangement unlike anything seen in waters from the middle sea to the frozen north. Indeed, so easy was the rig to handle that the pair even took several of Dryslwyn’s finest sailors out in a modest winter gale and proved to everybody’s satisfaction that the arrangement worked. More importantly, only one man was needed to handle the boat on a steady beat whilst never more than two were needed to trim sail and meet the needs of navigation, like altered courses and variable winds. The new arrangement of sails combined with the Mermaid’s inherent speed made their craft a truly formidable quarry if any chose to pursue her.
Finally, as the approaching winter tempests curtailed all off-shore seafaring, the four put their minds to honing their defensive skills. This was mainly perfecting their bow and arrow skills for everybody agreed the four would never match the corsairs in hand-to-hand combat. If the Mermaid was ever to slip the bounds of the Pillars of Hercules and enter the middle sea, then only her speed and navigation would win her through. The last thing she wanted was confrontation. Her speed and artillery skills would serve her best. Archery was akin to artillery in terms of range and damage and Aiofe’s long bow was proven to out range the short bows that the Corsairs were known to favour.
Gradually the sun met with its southernmost declination and midwinter, solstice feasts were celebrated. Fortunately the southern parts of Brithony were fertile lands and there was usually food enough from store to celebrate the winter solstice. That year was no exception and the four guests thrived on a plentiful and varied diet. As the vernal equinox approached the four were well fed and Drustan had grown appreciably with the plentiful supply of meat to supplement the usual fish diet. He was still by no means a man but he was now a larger than average boy for his thirteen summers. What worried Drustan was that his beard refused to show and his skin remained stubbornly soft. Compared with the Brithonic boys he was taller yet seemed still childlike with soft skin and slender limbs. It was only his well deserved reputation as a battle tested warrior and sailor that earned him any respect. His sword play was also greatly improved with Dryslwyn’s teaching but his hand still too weak to swing a mighty Norse blade. The famous sword of Blueface would yet remain in Penderol’s safe-keeping for some years to come.
Meanwhile, his twin sister had blossomed as only a well fed maid can.
Also she had completed her menarche and learned much of womanhood from her Royal cousin Queen Bronlwyn and her older sister Aiofe. Arian had also benefitted from the plentiful diet and her gaunt waiflike frame had filled proportionately well.
The four would never be better prepared for the unknown ordeals they knew they might have to face in their search for Aiofe’s dream.
The day came when they finally said their farewells and set course south for the famed but dreaded Pillars of Hercules.
For several days they followed the contours of the land but eventually they gained more confidence in the strange iron lodestones that had remained a secret buried with the gold, silver and copper amidst the stone ballast at the foot of the mast. Mabina and Drustan had deliberately left the central bilge to gather filth and dirt to hide the precious riches lying buried under the rotting fish bones and muddy stones that lay as ballast securely chocked between the close set, deep oak frames and tough oak planks that gave the mermaid her remarkable strength, uniquely rigid shape and inexplicable speed.
As Mabina gained confidence in the reliability of the magic iron rods from the far Norse lands, she and Drustan soon settled down to making a passage out of sight of land. The four of them had good cause to be thankful for the wonderful iron pointers that had been recovered from Blueface’s captured ships after the battle with the Dumnonii.
The two virgin Norse soothsayers that had accompanied Blueface’s marauding venturers had been compelled to reveal the secrets of the magic iron to the Dumnonii and also to Mabina and Drustan. Then they had been married into the Dumnonii tribe. The kidnapping of women was not all a one-way trade to Scandinavia. At least the virgin maids had not been raped and cast down into slavery.
The magnetic rods gave the mariners two advantages. Firstly, there was less chance of hitting the rocky coast at night because the great western sea was reputed to go on to the ends of the earth and they could stand off the Iberian coast for countless leagues in safety. This meant they could speed south by night with little fear. Secondly, the ‘off-shore’ passage would also reduce their chance of meeting Corsairs who were known to be poor navigators and reputedly lacked the secret of the lode-stone. Corsairs clung close to the coast especially once they found themselves in the seemingly treacherous waters of the great western sea where even the level of the water changed inexplicably through the day, to cause dangerous and unpredictable currents.
The Mermaid, with her new rig, proved to be an easy craft to handle thus the early spring passage through the wide open seas proved to be an easy one and more importantly, a fast one.
They encountered much fog but the lode-stones steered them safely south until they reached the reputed latitude of the Pillars of Hercules.
They turned for the rising sun and cautiously picked their way towards the land again. Once the land was sighted they slipped ashore one night to try and determine what lands they were close to. Aiofe had the best knowledge of foreign tongues because of her two trading voyages with her older brother before the cruel Norse invaders had arrived to destroy their idyllic family village. When she returned before dawn she had to report that the language was strange to her but there were lots of the old Latin words or words that sounded like it. This told them little because the Romans had spread their influences so far and wide. They had little choice but to simply keep picking their way towards the rising sun.
Eventually they discovered the famed pillars. The northern one proved correctly to be the more pronounced and recognisable one and Arina put her excellent artistic skills to work drawing the huge mountain of rock whilst Mabina carefully cross-referenced the chart with the actual reality. The Romans had proved to be good map-makers of their own fiefdom which encompassed the whole middle sea. Mabina was reassured by what she found in her comparisons. In turning to Drustan she expressed her growing confidence.
“It shows exactly what we would expect brother. Their chart of the middle sea is seemingly accurate but the bits relating to the Great West Sea are very vague. Look at our Celtic waters. They have drawn more sea monsters than land or information. This tells me that what they don’t know, they fear and make up.”
“Well, now we have found our way this far, we will soon know more than the Romans did sister.”
“Yes and more of these dreaded Corsairs. You seem indisposed again brother?”
“Yes. It’s this damned Blueface wound. It never seems to heal properly and it bleeds again and it makes my stomach cramp. It’s the bloody devil I tell you. Can we haul around for a minute while I take a bath in Noden’s water?”
Aiofe was listening from her bed amongst the sails and she wondered silently.
‘Her brother’s ‘wound’ always seemed to bleed with the moon and usually when she herself and his twin sister had their Senuan visits. She wondered if Drustan’s twinned relationship with Mabina was more closely connected.’
Mabina smiled sympathetically at her brother as he slipped over the side into the warming waters and sluiced away the foul smelling blood from both his ‘wound’ and his breech cloth.
Mabina turned to her older sister Aiofe as they both watched their brother bathing.
“That wound bothers him so and sometimes he is so irritable.”
“Yes,” Aiofe agreed, “almost like one of us sisters.”
They exchanged knowing glances as each felt the familiar gripes and turned to look at the great rock to the north.
Even as she spoke, Arina, who had been sketching the great mountain of rock, let out a soft quiet warning.
“Sail to the north!”
The sisters shouted to Drustan who immediately returned to the Mermaid. Aiofe studied him and smiled sympathetically.
“Feeling better brother?”
He frowned then grimaced as he pressed his lower stomach.
“Cleaner yes, and glad for that, but these damned stomach cramps still bite.”
As Drustan dried himself on the Linen sail, Aiofe studied her brother’s form. He was slow to develop his manly muscles but then she knew that maids outstripped their brothers at this age. There was time yet for him to grow. Fortunately he was tall.
Once he was ready, the the four of them prepared to meet the approaching vessel and gathered at their chosen posts, Aiofe watched with her longbow ready nocked, Mabina with her hand on the tiller and Drustan made ready with the newly manoeuvrable sail. The young Arina stood poised to be anywhere and everywhere as conditions dictated.
“I think we’d be best suited to leave this bay and return south into the great channel where the current takes us East. The rig of that ship seems unhandy up to the wind and we should have the advantage if she tries to hunt us down. If we have to, we can even return to the Western Sea. I doubt if that craft could catch us. There is still a steady wind from the setting sun and we can close haul to it with this new suit of sails.”
Drustan’s suggestion made sense, for though Mabina fully understood the operation of the Mermaid’s sails, they were mainly Drustan’s creation and his responsibility. Mabina handled the navigation mostly. The four agreed that returning to open waters and more reliable wind was the best action.
With the decision agreed, the Mermaid turned about and returned to the great straights. The local craft followed them to a point level with the southern tip of the great rock then hesitated. As Mabina held the Mermaid first ‘in irons’ and then occasionally countered the powerful current with a beat up to the west, they reached a stale-mate. The local ship was obviously some sort of ‘guard ship’ to protect the bay for she carried many heavily armed fighting men. However, she proved to be clumsy and wholly incapable of catching the Mermaid. As the two craft lay eyeing each other suspiciously the four discussed the ‘stand-off’.
“How shall we speak with them?” Wondered Aiofe who had become by default, their main ‘communicator.’
“Send a message arrow.” Arina chirped.
“How? If we fire an arrow at them, they’ll see it as an act of war.” Drustan protested.
“No. Tie a white ribbon or chord to it. Ribbon is better because they can follow the arrow’s flight. Take off the arrow’s sharp tip and replace it with a message tied to the shaft. Fire the arrow over the ship so that the ribbon or chord lands over the rigging and they can recover the arrow from the sea. That’s how our people would send messages if the weather was too stormy to shout.”
“What, you went out in weather that bad?” Mabina frowned at Arina.
“No. But we got caught out in it sometimes.”
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense. We’ve all been there.” Aiofe added as she was already modifying an arrow. Drustan was also digging through his precious store of chord to find a suitable material but could find no ribbon. Aiofe smiled wryly and lifted her skirt to reveal her shapely legs as she deftly tore a strip from her underskirt, lamenting with a grin as she did it.
"This was a beautiful underskirt that Bronlwyn gave me. This idea will cost you Arina."
They all chuckled at the empty threat as Aiofe composed a letter and attached it to the arrow. Mabina carefully brought the mermaid within arrow-range and they waited for any hostile act. There was none except that the guard ship unshipped a set of sweeps but Mabina had anticipated that. If the clumsy vessel got caught in the great east setting current it might get swept past the great rock’s southernmost tip and end up who knew where. The sweeps were obviously a navigational precaution to avoid getting swept into the middle sea and Corsair hands.
Then Aiofe exposed herself to full view in the hope that the crew of the guard-ship might recognise her female form and more importantly, her bright green decorated dress.
“It might convince them we are not a threat,” she offered to the others.
“Try anything sister, at least they have not shot at us or anything. They seem to be anticipating some sort of act on our part. The message-arrow might just do it.”
With this general consensus agreed, Aiofe showed the bow to the guard ship whilst Arina held the long white tail over the gunwales so that their actions could be clearly seen. There was no hostile response so Aiofe pointed her bow high into the sky to indicate the peaceful intentions of the arrow and then released it.
The blunted arrow flew true and struck the large square sail with a dull ‘thwack’ before tumbling onto the deck of the guard ship. The ribbon swirled after it and landed fluttering in a pool of white linen. Aiofe watched the reaction and breathed a huge sigh of relief as the man who apparently commanded the guard ship waved his sword over his head and took the arrow from the man who had recovered it. The blunted tip of the arrow, with its lump of leather to allay any injury was a clear message in itself but the attached note explained everything the four had thought important.
The guard ship raised a large coloured banner seemingly as a signal to the shore for soon a much smaller craft emerged from the shelter of the bay. This craft was obviously some sort of diplomatic delegation for it carried only one armed man. The four also believed they could actually see some women amongst the rest of the hoped for reception party.
As the smaller craft drew slowly closer, Mabina and Drustan cautiously set the Mermaid for flight whilst Aiofe prepared to be hailed. The shout came in Latin and Aiofe breathed a huge sigh of relief. If there was one good thing the Romans had left, it was a common tongue amongst the educated.
“Who are you?” Came drifting across the water.
For answer, Aiofe clearly displayed an even longer ‘letter’ then attached it to a second arrow and fired that towards the guard ship because it was a bigger, and easier target. The diplomatic vessel immediately lay alongside the guard ship and the commander showed obvious respect as he handed the unopened message and arrow to some sort of senior figure in the diplomatic party.
The captain of the guard ship joined with the diplomatic party as they obviously discussed the contents of Aiofe’s note. It was a nervous wait before a reply came floating across the water.
“May we come alongside your craft with three of our women and one of our council deputies?”
The four discussed this and Drustan was adamant.
“They could overpower us with that number. Make it one woman and the deputy.”
This was agrteed by all four and Aiofe called back.
“We are but four and mostly children at that. You could overpower us.”
“Did you say children?”
For answer, the four arranged themselves in full view by the tiller so that the diplomatic party could size them up. With Aiofe now obviously a woman the sizes were made apparent and more discussions ensued amongst the diplomatic team. Another call carried across the gap between the craft.
“We will do as you have requested, we send two women and one man who agrees not to board your vessel. He will have to tend this craft anyway. The remainder of our party will retire to the guard ship.”
“What d’you think?” Mabina asked to no-one in particular.
“Provided the man remains on their ship, I’ll agree. I’ll cover him with a bow whilst Aiofe and you talk to the women while Arina tends to the tiller and sail. Stay within earshot in the stern so both Arina and I can be party.”
“Of course,” Aiofe added. “Are we agreed then?”
Aiofe called across and agreed to this arrangement.
As soon as the diplomatic party stepped onto the larger guard ship and the smaller craft started to work its way across the gap Drustan couldn’t resist showing off. He swung the Mermaid’s tiller as Arina and Mabina tightened the sheets and brought the Mermaid easily through the wind as only a fore and aft rig can. Within seconds the Mermaid had sped across the gap and was sweeping up under the stern of the envoy ship.
Aiofe smiled indulgently. ‘Drustan had every right to demonstrate the Mermaid’s amazing speed and manoeuvrability, for he had after all, been the main instigator of Mermaid’s design, both hull and sails.’
Nervous eyes followed the Mermaid’s antics but no weapons were raised on the guard ship. Everybody could now see that there were only one maid and three children crewing the strange visitor. Aiofe relaxed the grip she had taken on her bow and as they came close enough she smiled at the women. The smile was returned and she sagged with relief. It took but a few moments more for Drustan to bring the Mermaid alongside the envoy vessel and Mabina reached out to invite the women across. The women proved to be hesitant so Mabina decided to demonstrate her seamanlike skills and leapt nimbly into the envoy’s craft. She did this before Aiofe or Drustan could stop her but her action proved commendable. The women were much happier about having the nimble girl take the risk.
She landed lightly as only a child can and immediately stood to address the diplomatic trio.
“My name is Mabina, daughter of Caderyn son of Erin. We are of the Gangani Celts.”
The better dressed woman raised her eyebrow and looked askance.
“But you speak Latin!”
“And Norse and some Greek.”
“Greek!?”
The woman made a face but Mabina could not tell if she was surprised or impressed. She added, -
“We all speak Latin. My older sister also speaks Greek better than I do as well as Norse and Nubian.”
“So where would your sister, a Celtic girl from the north, have learned an African language?”
“She is betrothed to a Carthaginian prince. He taught her.”
By now Aiofe had decided it was safe for her to cross into the envoy’s boat. She handed the bow to Drustan, declared her intentions to the diplomatic trio, hoisted the hem of her gown and leaped with only marginally less agility than Mabina. She landed slightly more heavily and hurt her ankle but it was not a disabling wound. She grimaced slightly but stood erect and proud to face the woman. Aiofe was pleased to note that her own dress was of no less quality than the woman’s but she had no way of knowing the older woman’s rank. She kept checking the man but he stood courteously and respectfully by the steering oar obviously awaiting orders.
“I am Aiofe, Mabina’s older sister. What is your name?”
The woman smiled a bit easier and remarked.
“I am Isobel, the adopted daughter of the chief Arton, who watches from the guard ship. Was your sister the pawn to test our hospitality?”
“Not at all.” Aiofe replied. “She has always been impetuous. We intended to talk some more before we actually met.”
Aiofe gave Mabina a stern look that Drustan also mirrored. Mabina had been reckless to be so trusting so soon.
“Well do you trust us now?” Isobel asked.
“We trust no-one!” Drustan called from the Mermaid.
Aiofe frowned with irritation.
“Forgive my younger brother. He and Mabina are twins and they share many traits. Impetuosity and bluntness being but two.”
Isobel chuckled and her maidservant also smiled. Even the taciturn man at the steering oar cracked a smile.
“You have a troublesome crew captain.” Isobel replied, realising immediately from the gasps that she had said the wrong thing.
Drustan recovered first from the slight even as Mabina drew breath to protest. The twins shouted in unison.
“She’s not the captain!!”
“Oh I’m sorry. Then who amongst you commands?”
Aiofe shrugged apologetically and explained.
“We are brother and sisters except for young Arina who has but eleven and a quarter summers. She is a fellow Celt from the Demetae. We are but equals on the ship though we divide the other duties.”
“So with whom do I truck?” Asked Isobel.
“I have the best language skills.” Aiofe declared. “We only ask for free pratique and water, then we will be on our way again.”
“On your way where?”
“My younger sister explained earlier, to Carthaginia to meet my betrothed prince, Prince Magab.”
“God forbid girl!! Do you children not know that a virtual state of war exists throughout these straights?”
“But we are neutral; we seek only a free passage.”
“That is what the war is all about my child.”
“How so?” Drustan called.
“The corsairs; the pirates on that opposite coast. They demand gold to allow free passage and they will steal any women into bondage. You will assuredly put yourselves in great peril. Your golden haired heads alone will attract every whore-monger in the Atlas Mountains, not to mention that younger girl’s splendid copper tresses.”
“But first they must catch us!” Drustan spoke from the Mermaid, for both craft were now alongside each other.”
“Yes, indeed, your craft has impressed all of our men. She is a strange craft but speedy and manoeuvrable.”
“She serves.” Mabina added.
“Truly she does, and well if she has brought you all the way from the Britannia Isle: and you must be doughty travellers but what awaits you is much more fearsome. The Corsairs are a cruel race.”
“So how do you fare, how do you trade?” Aiofe asked.
“We must convoy and prepare to fight every time we expedite a voyage. Their pirate ships can gather quickly when they see our fleet. There have been many bloody battles.”
“Sounds like the bloody Vikings all over again,” Drustan cursed. Aiofe snapped at him.
“Drustan! Mind your manners, - and your language! We are guests!”
“And welcome guests if all you seek is water and pratique. Would you accept our hospitality?”
“In exchange for what?” Mabina pressed astutely.
“Well, the secrets of your magical craft to name but one commodity.”
All the girls turned as one to Drustan for it was he who had designed the Mermaid. The price of the Angry Mermaid’s precious secrets was his alone to call.
Drustan hesitated uncertainly. He was a novice at trading but he had to start somewhere.
“The secrets of her sails for water, - oh!; and permission to land in perpetuity wherever we need on your shores for further water and possibly food whilst we transit your waters. Oh and for all the other times to buy food if we need to return back to our homeland.”
Aiofe and Mabina exchanged knowing glances with Arina. Their thoughts were one!
‘Trust Drustan to think only of food.’
Isobel nodded sagely. She also had adoptive brothers who seemed to do nothing but eat.
“Done! You may land freely anywhere in perpetuity on the Turdetani coasts. Now for that strange hull?” Isobel pressed. “What price for her magical secrets?”
Drustan could think of nothing. The secrets of the Mermaid’s lightening fast hull were dear to him, hard won and long thought out. To him those secrets were priceless.
He looked to Aiofe for guidance and she recognised his distress. Drustan was hardly in a position to logically evaluate the true worth of the mermaid’s vital hull. It was everything to him for the Mermaid had proven to be a truly miraculous servant and a vessel for which he had every reason to be proud. Aiofe however had a much wiser and experienced trading head. She turned to the older Isobel.
“We do not yet know what our future needs will be. May we enter your harbour and first assess our needs? That is without prejudice to possession of our craft for once we are in your port we are at your mercy. Like my brother, I can think of nothing yet that is so needful to us that it is worth our craft’s secrets.”
Isobel nodded her head respectfully.
“Well, that alone is a tribute to your resilience and skill. I have granted you pratique and in that, my word is my father’s bond. We will not steal your ship. That you should have travelled so far and yet arrive with so few needs. Truly you are remarkable travellers. For the news and knowledge you must bring is in itself worth a night’s feasting. As to trading your vessel’s secrets, I would concur that if you need nothing else then there is nothing else to trade. For now let trust and peace join us. If you are Celts then we Celtiberians are at least distant cousins.”
Aiofe turned to her siblings and raised a questioning eyebrow. All had heard the offer. Drustan frowned.
“You three girls go. I know how you like to wash and you have been a half moon of unwashed days since Brithony. I just washed with Nodens.”
“But will you not join us. Surely it’s rude to refuse such hospitality.”
“You go. I’ll stay.” Drustan persisted.
Aiofe turned apologetically to the woman Isobel.
“My brother trusts no-one. Ever since the Norse pirates murdered our family, he has placed reliance only on himself and trust only in us, his sisters.”
Isobel knew all about murder, she had lost all of her family to Corsair slavers who had attacked her fishing village. Her sisters had been stolen into slavery and her brothers killed, She had been left effectively orphaned, hence her adoption by the Celtiberian chief. Arton had adopted her for he had only sons by his wife Carinia. Drustan and his sisters were obviously fellow travellers. She spoke softly to Aiofe.
“Let him stay with your ship. I understand his feelings.”
Aiofe also understood her little brother’s distress; he had been deemed too young and too small to fight by the family and therefore sent on errands instead. When he was finally forced to fight alongside the hard pressed Dumnonii, he had proven himself a steadfast but crazy fighter. His success at finally skewering the dreaded ‘Blueface’ in his genitals had only added to his despair that he had not been able to do it prior to their family’s slaughter. Since that battle, Drustan had only found cause to criticise himself for somehow not saving his family before the Viking attack. In his own tormented conscience there had been no redemption despite having technically avenged his family’s murder.
As Aiofe agreed to accept Isobel’s hospitality, Drustan only followed the other vessels into the bay as far as a safe anchorage and he slept aboard whilst his sisters savoured the luxury of washing in fresh, clean water and then a feast set in their honour. True to her word, Isobel provided for the girl’s safety and they slept in Queen Carinia's private quarters.
During the night, Drustan had cause to rub his itching chest.
This chapter describes the Gangani children's adventures after landing on the Gibral Rock between the Pillars of herculese.
The Angry Mermaid 8.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 8
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Dawn arrived damp and cool. A fog had settled over the Straights of Hercules thus Drustan awoke to find the land invisible to him and he invisible to the land. He took a drink from the last fresh water pot and debated washing himself in the sour dregs that was all that remained of their water. Blueface’s wound still bled and he was irritated with himself that it seemed to refuse to heal so he threw caution to the wind and sluiced the blood away to leave only a few cupfuls of water in the pot. They had an agreement so he should be able to renew their water that morning so he expected to get more soon. He studied his blood-stained breech and cursed. Blood was the devil’s own stuff to wash out of linen. Dare he wash it out? He asked himself.
‘Should he or shouldn’t he use up the last of their water?’ He wondered. He stared thoughtfully at the clay pot with its thin ring of green slime and decided to leave it. Until he saw and tasted the promised fresh water he would take all precautions. Reluctantly he re-secured the lid of the pot and made it safe as he contemplated one more dip in the salty sea. Partly to refresh himself and mainly to try and wash his breech-cloth out.
Long trained to be cautious, he did not plunge into the water with a loud revealing splash but rather he climbed silently down the knotted rope and slid secretively beneath the crystal clear sea that lay like a mirror under the still, foggy air. Not a ripple or sound disturbed his ablutions for it was the very earliest of hours. Whilst in the water, he took the rare opportunity to check out the Mermaid’s hull and reassured himself that all was correct. It was.
His beloved little ship had not yet failed him once. Gratefully he climbed aboard again and dried himself in the spare linen sail. Then he sipped sparingly on some more water and chewed on some cold, dried fish. He wondered how his sisters fared so he could only wait now until the fog lifted.
He set about re-tidying the deck again and checking that the precious gold, silver and copper was still secure under the filth and ballast in the bilges. Finally there was nothing else he could do to occupy his fretful mind and he dozed on the mattress of the spare leather storm sail. In the silence of a windless fog, sound travels immensely far over water and he strained his ears for any sounds of life from the shore. There was none but he hadn’t expected any. He had no idea of local customs or habits but he did not expect any boats to come out to the anchored Mermaid until the fog had lifted. In the first place they would have trouble locating him.
He felt the sun rising slowly until eventually he could see its weak watery orb above the low fog bank. At the same time the peak of the great rock appeared above the fog, this was an indicator that the sun was beginning its job of burning off the fog. Drustan decided to climb the mast for it was often possible to see over a low fog bank. As he did so he concluded that the fog bank was still too thick and high so he could see little more. For a few minutes he sat perched on the tiny cross-tree where the new block served to hoist the sail. It was not the most comfortable of places but he rested there to recover his strength before climbing down to the deck. The diet of dried fish, stale bread and fresh water for the passage from Brithony had left him thin but wiry. After resting and regaining his strength, he clambered lithely down again and sat recovering his breath for a few moments before a sound caught his ear.
There was the slow steady beat of a ship’s sweeps accompanied by some low murmuring voices. He strained all his senses to locate the source but they confused him. He checked the precious lodestone, compared his orientation with the peak of the great rock and determined that the sounds were coming from seaward.
‘Who could it be?’ He wondered. ‘Surely they did not change the guard boat in the fog.’
Nervously he cast about for something to do, something to secure his situation, so he started shortening his anchor. If he had to run he did not want to have to cut his anchor and leave the useful anchor stone behind. It would mean having to run the boat ashore to collect another one and to do that alone was difficult; especially as the middle sea was reputed to have no tides to float off again at high water. Besides there was the question of anchor rope. To cut any would necessitate a considerable loss. Linen rope was durable and valuable. He did not want to lose any.
Slowly he hauled the anchor rope in until the stone was almost bouncing on the bottom. The Mermaid started to yaw for want of a proper anchor lead and that told Drustan there were still currents to be considered. The rowing sounds got louder and Drustan peered uncertainly into the cursed fog.
‘Why would anybody be approaching from the sea, and why did they not hail the shore?’ He continued to wonder.
Then Isobel’s words came to him and a dull feeling sagged in his belly. (A state of virtual war existed in the great straights!)
The low murmuring grew as the rowing sounds approached so Drustan decided to hail the approaching vessel. He dug out the great Viking long-horn from under the sails and unplugged the mouthpiece of long horn to check that the air flow was clear. Then, taking a deep breath, he released a long sonorous note that rumbled across the fog banks.
‘Nobody can have missed that!’ He concluded as he waited for a response.
The rowing ceased immediately and the murmuring stopped but no shout came from the fog. Drustan decided to blow another blast. To have called blindly into the fog would have alerted the new visitors that the owner of the unbroken, treble voice was but a boy or a girl.
‘That would be giving away too much information.’ He concluded. Caution had become Drustan’s middle name.
Instead he took a deeper breath and blew again into the Viking horn. An even longer, deeper note rolled out across the fog but still no response from the sea. To Drustan’s suspicious mind that could mean but one thing. ‘Whoever was approaching in the fog did not want to declare their intentions and that could mean only one thing.’
Immediately Drustan pointed the great long-horn towards the town and gave a series of shorter but more powerful, explosive blasts. He had no idea what sort of alarm system they had ashore ‘but surely a signal as distinct as that must alert them to something!’
His convictions proved correct for almost immediately a loud, deep-toned bell pealed out across the bay to be answered from the other side. Drustan didn’t even know which side he should join with but the town held his sisters so that had to be made safe. Suddenly a series of shouts and curses erupted through the fog and Drustan decided it was time to make himself and the Mermaid scarce. One boy having to sail a ship and fight it against an unquantified foe was a huge no-no.
‘Time to leave!’ He decided as he hoisted the sail then hauled in the last remnants of the anchor rope.
Within moments the faithful racehorse sprang to the growing anabatic, sea-breeze and the Mermaid was soon dancing over the rippled sea on a broad reach that took her across the bay and across the path of the approaching visitors. It was only as he emerged from the edge of the fog bank that he just spotted the ghostly outline of some strange ships with long triangular sails slipping silently and almost invisibly along the edge of the fog bank towards the town and harbour.
‘Clever! Very clever!’ Thought Drustan. ‘They stick to the seaward edge of the fog-bank so that they can see each
other and navigate their way but they are invisible to the shore! Well, we’ll see about that!’
Drustan hooked the tiller to keep the Mermaid up to the freshening wind then he took the great horn and puffed a series of short rapid blasts. The sound could do little else but convey ‘danger’ and ‘urgency’. He was pleased to garnish a response from the shore. The loud sonorous peel of the church bells was joined by a rapid, higher pitched ringing of many smaller bells.
‘Well, if they were asleep before, they’re awake now!’ He grinned.
‘So what to do next?’ He wondered.
The only advantages he and the Mermaid had were speed, agility and the ability to know what course he kept in zero visibility; thanks to the precious loadstone. He realised that the owners of the foreign sails had spotted his strange craft for suddenly two of the vessels peeled off from the fleet and steered a course directly for him. They meant business for the sweeps were beating a frantic rhythm. Drustan had two options, first to outrun them with the mermaid’s speed and the second was to hide in the fog. He chose the latter.
‘Why reveal my beloved Mermaid’s secrets to them now,’ he decided, ‘better to lose them in the fog!’ He altered course and quickly re-entered the fog bank further out to sea.
He steered a course due south until he emerged in the rougher waters of the great straights and finally clear of the inshore fog-bank. Here the prevailing westerly wind had resumed with the sun’s heat to clear the fog. Drustan could see clear across to the other side of the straights and friendly white horses leapt from the wavelets to show the force of the westerly breeze. Ideal conditions for the Mermaid to show her paces.
Drustan recklessly turned about to observe his pursuer’s emergence from the fog and he didn’t have long to wait. Soon he was playing the Oyster-bird’s trick by feigning injury and tardiness as he invited the Corsairs to chase him. Confident in their ability to ensnare the strange ship they set about their usual pincer movement to encircle their prey and finally close the ring. It would have worked easily, as it always had in the past, had the Mermaid been a typically slow, ponderous trading craft. This time it was different.
The lack of sweeps, or oars as they are more commonly known to modern men, led the Corsairs to believe they were pursuing a common trading ship. The pursuers split up and pulled hard on their sweeps as they set about encircling the tiny craft who had betrayed their plan of invasion. Drustan smiled as he held the Mermaid on a southerly course to the Southern Pillar of Hercules. On such a broad reach with a westerly wind it was easy to adjust his speed to fool the pursuers that they were slowly gaining on the betrayer. All he had to do was keep plying south until the oarsmen were exhausted. Whether slaves or free-men, they could not keep up the frenetic pace all the way to the southern shore for that’s where The Angry Mermaid seemed destined. Eventually, the Corsair galleys had to give up. They had been rowing all morning and it was close to noon. Broken slaves with blood pouring from their whipped backs lay slumped on their oars as the Corsair pirates cursed and screamed their fury.
Drustan smiled inwardly and wondered what next to do. He was tempted to loose some fire-arrows into the pirate ships for the range of his sister’s long bow was greater than the Corsairs simple short bow used for close infighting between ships. Besides, he had no convenient fire and it would take time to start it. Also he knew that the slaves were probably chained to their oars and if the galleys sunk, they would also drown. Though such a death might be preferable to the living hell they lived now.
Having now got the Corsair galleys where he wanted them, namely effectively de-engined with an exhausted crew of ‘sweeps-men’, and stranded in the middle of the great straights were the east-going current was strongest, he could take his time. The Corsair pirates only slowly realised that they had become the prey.
Like a hunter pursuing a tiger, once he had lost his gun he would become the hunted. Drustan studied the slaves, some deep black; some brown, some burned red from the sun and with red Celtic hair whilst others were once fair-haired yet now bleached almost white from the sun.
These Drustan concluded, must be enslaved Celts or Norsemen or Saxons or Danes. The boy felt mixed feelings. Many of those enslaved men might well have once been pirates themselves. Some might even have killed his kinsmen on the Celtic shores. But then even he and indeed, his own sisters had golden hair!
‘What to do?’ He wondered.
His eyes fell upon Aiofe’s long slender bow. All the children knew that Aiofe treasured it for it was the strongest and most accurate amongst the children’s weapons.
‘Perhaps if he stood off out of range of their bows and loosed some arrows into the corsair ships,’
He picked it up and fingered it respectfully. ‘Had he any right to touch his older sister’s treasured possession.’ He concluded he had little choice.
Once again he tied off the tiller to set the Mermaid on the steadiest course while the corsairs now set their own sails to pursue. With the Mermaid now running with the wind on her distaff quarter before the Westerly wind, she steadied on a course that would return her to the northern shores. Drustan was now able to aim and shoot aft with effect. Taking endless care for he had endless time he finally got the corsair commander in his sights and fired. The accuracy of Aiofe’s bow left him breathless with euphoria as he watched the arrow speed unerringly towards its target and plunge through the brute’s chest armour directly into where his heart should be; ‘if he had one!’ Drustan mused. The man fell immediately but Drustan had already nocked another arrow to his sister’s bow. Another high ranking man with brightly decorated armour fell to the deck before the corsairs realised their prey had teeth and claws and they had now become the hunted.
The pursuing ship veered off nervously but there was now no escape. The Angry Mermaid easily matched them for agility and speed so Drustan was soon upon them again. He loosed another arrow but it missed as the sweeps were put to work again and a bare-chested man thrashed his whip about with brutal effect.
‘You next you bastard!’ Drustan murmured to himself as he waited for the Mermaid to steady.
The arrow hit the slave-master with such force that it drove the man down amongst the very rowers he had been whipping but Drustan was too preoccupied to notice as he searched the decks for his next target. A man in a bright green tunic standing at the bow, seemed to be somebody of rank so he was Drustan’s next choice. The arrow hit the man in the arm, he was disabled but he remained standing and cursing. Drustan fired again quickly but missed the man altogether. However, his arrow found and killed another standing next to the high ranker. Drustan cursed but reconciled himself to his score. ‘Four dead and one wounded out of six arrows from a moving ship’s deck was a bloody good score.’ He now found a new respect for his sister’s treasured bow.
He decided to call it a day. He only had a few arrows left and the sun was now at its hottest and he had had nothing to eat or drink since that early morning. He was hungry, tired and he had no idea where his next decent meal was coming from. Dried fish did only so much for a growing boy’s hunger.
Reluctantly he broke off from the battle but tiredness and the irritability with Blueface’s wound caused a lapse of concentration. As he turned to break away, he passed just too close to the second corsair ship and suddenly found himself under fire from their short ranged fighting bows. A single arrow slashed down his arm peeling open the flesh as it ricocheted off the wrist bone and flashed away to embed itself in the rudder-post behind him. Drustan let out a scream of pain and hauled desperately on the tiller with his remaining good arm. The Mermaid span faithfully on her fulcrum and sped away to the north as the boom slammed across and caught the wind on the other tack. It was a desperate manoeuvre and could easily have smashed the Mermaid’s rigging but the faithful craft held up and took her wounded partner swiftly out of danger. The corsairs were left howling with frustration as the mermaid put distance between them and all eyes turned disbelievingly to watch her disappearing speedily to windward at an impossible angle to the westerly wind.
Two of the oar slaves looked on with greater knowledge of seamanship for they had once been ship captains themselves. They had never seen any craft sail so close to the wind and they had once captained ships of war during their younger days in the tempestuous northern seas! Having ceased to row, the gasping men had time to whisper privately.
“Well Carl, think what we could have done with a ship like that! What manner of craft is she?”
“Never mind what we could have done with her Eric, look what we can do with this! Look what I have here.” He whispered to his oar companion.
“What’s that?”
“It’s only the bloody key to our chains! When the slave master was killed it fell from his belt and nobody’s noticed in all the mayhem. It opens all the slave shackles.”
Even as he spoke, Eric freed his own wrists and swiftly passed the key down the line of slaves with a message to wait for the signal.
Within minutes all the slaves were free as the Corsairs were preoccupied with their dead leaders. On Eric’s signal, they rose as one and overwhelmed their outnumbered, leaderless captors.
Drustan knew none of this. The arrow strike had left him weak and dizzy from loss of blood. Fortunately it had struck no vital blood vessels but he had lost a lot of blood and there was little he could do. There were no bandages for even Aiofe’s petty-coat had gone ashore with his sister, as she had dressed for the feast that previous night. Desperately he set the sails to meet the wind and the Mermaid slowly picked her way three points to the wind as she made her painful way back to the northern pillar of Hercules. The battle and chase had taken them several leagues into the middle sea. The distance, easily made whilst fighting before the wind, now had to be recovered slowly, tack by painful tack. With each desperate effort to reset the sails and make a tack through the wind, Drustan was becoming weaker and weaker with loss of blood. He feared he would not make it back past the north pillar of Hercules, the great rock that gave shelter to the town where his sisters might even now be captured into bondage. Tears of frustration and fatigue escaped his tired eyes as fear drove him to push his body beyond its capability. Eventually, as the sun set, he collapsed at the foot of the rudder stock and could only hold feebly onto the tiller to steer by the stars as he hoped and prayed that he might make a landfall on the north shore somewhere. It was not to be though, Drustan had reached the end of his tether and he collapsed unconscious through loss of blood.
Fortunately for Drustan help was closer than he knew. The second Corsair captain had broken off the fight because he thought the Angry Mermaid was repeating the earlier tactics of playing the wounded bird. As the Angry Mermaid sailed blindly north and west towards the great rock, the second corsair raider was sailing east for his home port with his tail between his legs.
The first corsair ship had been captured and taken over by its own crew of oarsmen. Furious from long months of brutal bondage, the oarsmen had risen as one and exploded off the benches. All the Corsairs were swiftly killed, and the vessel was now under the command of Eric and Carl. Both men had seen the arrow strike Drustan’s arm and heard him emit his boyish scream of pain as blood immediately flowed from the long slash in his arm. They debated whether to check if the boy was alright for the Angry Mermaid was now behaving erratically.
“I tell you Carl; he’s just but a lad. He was hit badly and he’ll need treating. I saw the wound open up as if he had been filleted like a fish. We owe him our freedom if nothing else.”
“But he’s a bloody dangerous lad Eric. And that bow he had, you take a risk if you approach him un-invited. He’ll be like a wounded animal I tell you; frightened and dangerous.”
“That’s if he’s still conscious; the course that bloody boat is making tells me there’s nobody at the helm. It’s only the set of that strange rig that keeps her steady to that course. Look at it yawing and pitching with every wave. There’s nobody on the tiller, look!”
As the captured Corsair ship finally overtook the erratic Mermaid, Eric was able to confirm his suspicions as he peered from the high prow straight down onto the deck of the smaller craft. He spotted the crumpled, unresponsive form prostate on the deck by the rudder stock where Drustan had finally collapsed. So he called to his companion master Carl.
“The boy’s down, there’s blood all over the deck where he lies. Bring me alongside and we’ll see if he’s to be mended.”
Carl bent to the steering oar as other experienced seamen amongst the freed oarsmen, swiftly adjusted the sails to match the Mermaid's reduced erratic speed. Within minutes the corsair craft was alongside and Eric leapt easily down onto the Mermaid’s deck. One look told him the boy was pretty far gone. He called back to the Corsair ship.
“Are there any of you with medical skills?”
“Aye, me!” An olive skinned Greek replied.
“Then come here quickly, the boy’s badly done.”
The physician moved quickly for he too had much to thank the unknown child for; and he knew it. He had found the Corsair medical kit after the fight and some of the slaves had been wounded. Grabbing what had now become his de-facto badge of rank of ‘ship’s surgeon’, he joined Eric at the tiller of the Mermaid.
“You treat him, I’ll steer this bloody craft.” Eric suggested.
He called across to Carl and explained.
“The boy was obviously heading for the Gibral Rock! We might as well make for there!”
“Well make haste, d’you need any more crew.”
“Aye one’ll do it, best a Celt, this boy looks like a Celt and his tunic has Celtic whorls. If he wakes up, it’ll be best if we can talk to him.”
Carl called for one volunteer and several Celts stepped forward. All were seamen and all were eager to discover the secret of the Mermaid’s speed and agility for she had led them a cruel and exhausting dance. Their previous captors had whipped them unmercifully in an effort to overtake the little craft that was even now dancing to the waves and itching to be away. A young man named Torvel was despatched by Carl to assist Eric while the physician busied himself with the wounded child. Eric and Torvel both being experienced seamen soon had the Mermaid under control and they even surprised themselves as the craft leapt eagerly forward to soon overtake the Corsair vessel. Carl’s eyes widened with disbelief at the sudden acceleration for now that two men could handle both tiller and sails simultaneously, the mermaid could really show her paces. As they left the Corsair vessel floundering in their wake. Eric turned to Torvel.
“By the Gods she’s fast! How so?” He wondered loudly in his broken Latin.
“She’s a strange craft alright,” Torvel agreed, “those triangular sails and no steering oar but that pole thing attached to a fixed blade that swings. That must explain it.”
“No there’s something else. Something about the hull, look how it’s widest at the mast and the long easy taper to the blade. Yet her arse is still wide, like a fat hen’s feathers. She’s a strange-un alright!”
“Well, strange or not,” Torvel finished, “she’ll have us at the Gibral Rock in no time! Just look at that wake! Did you ever see?”
Both men stared transfixed at the wake until a low whimper attracted their attentions. The Physician had stemmed the blood loss and Drustan was slowly recovering. The whimpering had been Drustan’s response to the Physician’s needle work as he cleaned the wound with herbs and lotions then stitched the two long strips of skin together. Eric and Torvel watched and grinned.
“The kid’ll have a fine scar for the ladies to admire when he’s older.” Chuckled Eric.
“He’s already got a good scar. Look at his arse.” The physician interjected as he peeled back the boy’s britches and both men studied the huge angry slash.
“Well I’ll be buggered!” Torvel laughed uproariously. “This kid’s already seen some action!”
“Aye and not yet in his fifteenth summer I’ll wager.” The Greek added. “Only a sword could have done that and a bloody sharp one. It was no game or sword practice being played by whoever cut him like that. He really meant to kill the boy.”
“Well he’ll not likely see his sixteenth summer if he carries on as he has. First a sword cut and now an arrow strike. The next one’ll be a bloody spear, and a fatal stabbing I’ll wager, if he carries on with his recklessness.”
“Well the sooner he gets back to the Gibral rock, the better it will be.” The Greek physician added. “ Mind you this is an interesting medical bag. There are several herbs and potions in here that I don’t recognise.”
“Yeah, well the kid looks much more comfortable now. He’s got a bit of colour back, what did you do?”
“I recognised several of the effluvians and he sipped a goodly dose just now. You were too busy getting to know this strange craft. He’ll live now. A comfortable bed with a maid to care for him and he’ll be soon to rights.”
“Will his arm be usable?” Torvel asked.
“Yes. He managed to make a fist for me before relapsing. I’m letting him sleep now but I still fear for the boy’s condition. He needs warmth and fresh food. There’s only some dried fish and a few crumbs of stale bread.”
“Thus concerned about the boy’s condition, the three ex slaves set to with avengance to speed the Mermaid back to Gibral rock. They arrived at the dead of night and the town was tense with anticipation. The Corsair’s sneak attack in the fog had been beaten off but the mood was still nervous. Fortunately the Greek physician spoke excellent Latin and several lookouts recognised the strange outline of the Mermaid as she swept rapidly between the breakwaters. News of the boy’s injuries was swiftly exchanged and messages rushed to the town’s physician and Drustan’s sisters. Everybody had heard Drustan blowing the Viking horn that morning and Aiofe had warned the town elders that it meant danger. Drustan’s warning had been greatly appreciated and the boy was already a hero. Now he had returned with even greater tales of glory to his name but the Physicians, plus his sisters, Aiofe and Mabina were far more concerned about his wounds. The Greek consulted with the town’s physician and neither were yet sure of the outcome. All that could be done, had been done, they could only wait and hope. Aiofe and Mabina spent many tearful worried hours watching and waiting and hoping. Arina had been tasked to guard the mermaid.
Drustan slept until the following noon and finally recovered to find his sisters sitting either side of a comfortable bed. Their eyes were red-rimmed with crying but as he softly croaked for water they gasped a huge sigh of joy that was swiftly followed by more tears of relief.
Naturally, his first feeling was pangs of hunger and he called for food. Aiofe smiled at Mabina as they exchanged their first words since Drustan’s return.
“He’s getting better, he’s thinking of food.” Aiofe said.
“I’ll never rib him about it again!” Replied Mabina
“And so would you think of food my young ladies if you hadn’t eaten or drank for two days” The physician scolded them. “Now if you want to do something useful; give him some of this broth.”
Both girls eagerly reached for the broth, keen to be the first to feed their brother. Aiofe won for the Physician recognised her senior age but Mabina was not resentful for she was given the water and Drustan struggled feebly to sit up. His wounded arm failed him and he slipped on his wounded side causing him to howl loudly with confusion and pain. Both physicians reached forward to assist him and check the wounded limb. The wound proved to be still clean and uninfected. The herbs and potions had done their work.
Drustan’s cry was heard throughout the infirmary and the town’s elders demanded to know. They had been waiting nervously all night.
The Greek Physician advised everybody as he stepped from the room.
“It was nothing; he just slipped and hurt the wounded limb as he struggled unexpectedly to sit up. It’s started bleeding a bit but will soon stop. He’s now taking water and broth! The boy looks as though he’ll live.”
“Can we see him?” The chief asked.
“One of you can come in but don’t excite him. He’s nervous and very confused. He was hallucinating during the night but we took no notice. He’s cognisant now but very, very weak. His sisters are feeding him. He recognised them and that has given him reassurance.”
Isobel stepped forward as the appointed delegate for she had met the boy earlier and was therefore a familiar face. She followed the Greek back into the single bedroom as Drustan fretted about the Angry Mermaid.
“Don’t worry little brother. Our vessel is safe. Even now Arina sits with her safe in the harbour.” Aiofe soothed him as Mabina wiped his brow again.
Drustan sagged with relief then tensed again as he met Isobel’s gaze and wondered where he was. He thought he was being held captive. He gave another nervous whimper but Aiofe recognised her younger brother’s continuing confusion as he went in and out of hallucinations. She spoke soothingly as she stroked his good arm.
“It’s alright Drustan. You’re safe and amongst friends. The Corsairs have gone!”
She turned to the Physician.
“Have we anything for his confusion or should we let him sleep again?”
“After he’s finished his food and water,” The Town physician replied as she checked to see how much her patient had eaten. “There are only a few mouthfuls to go.”
“Can we not speak to him yet,” Isobel asked.
“If he’s still confused, and he appears still to be, his answers will be of no value. Best let him sleep again.”
She held up a small phial of medicine to indicate her intent as she poured some into Drustan’s water.
“The longer he lies still the faster that nasty wound will start to heal. He started bleeding again when he slipped just now.”
Mabina was washing the wound but Drustan was oblivious to anything. He had slipped back into sleep again of his own accord. Exhaustion had won. The physician reassured the girls.
“You can go now. He’s eaten food and this is a natural sleep. He’s on the mend.”
The girls sagged with relief and tears overtook them as Isobel escorted them past the waiting councillors back to the chieftain’s household. The doctors emerged and gave a progress report to the waiting throng. Drustan slept the day around and another night.
During his sleep the freed slaves had consulted with the town’s elders and their useful information had been passed inland to the capital city. Already the king was sending emissaries to interview the slaves who were to be granted citizenship.
More importantly, little Arina had been kept busy preventing curious individuals from learning any of the Mermaid’s secrets. For this she had been forced to invoke Isobel’s agreement about trading secrets but several of the freed slaves from the Corsair Galley had shown undue interest in the little craft; most notably, Carl, Eric and Torvel, who were all experienced seafarers.
Their main curiosity lay in the rig of the sails and all three men, just like the townsmen traders had failed to spot the real secret.
Mermaid’s hull was exceptionally light for Welsh Oak was a very hard, tough, stiff wood. Although it was difficult to work, Drustan’s forefathers had been using the wood for generations and the iron secrets of their cousins on the Isle of Mon had enabled them to work the wood to their will. The deep light frames gave her the stiffness and rigidity that enable her to pound and pant against all but the most destructive of seas. This lightness also enabled the Mermaid to carry an exceptionally heavy load of ballast without unduly adding to her draught. Naturally the intense weight of the gold bars still lying undetected under the stone ballast and filth gathered in the garboard strake bilges added enormously to that low, centre of gravity. It made for a very stiff vessel but an incredibly stable and responsive one. Arina had to be constantly alert to surreptitious efforts to garnish the craft’s secrets. Furthermore, neither Arina nor Aiofe had yet discovered the existence of the gold for Drustan and Mabina had been very tight lipped. The twins knew that the less people who knew, then the less mouths to betray their precious secret. Arina was totally ignorant that beneath the fish carcasses and accumulated filth under the small spread of floorboards around the foot of the mast, there lay a small fortune in gold beneath the ballast jammed between the floors.
She allowed visitors to step aboard and even study the craft she had come to worship as her home and saviour but none were allowed to poke or prod or measure any part of the Mermaid.
Eventually Drustan started to recover from his wound and the physicians let him up. His very first act was to revisit his beloved ship and check with the young Arina.
“Has anybody been poking around her secrets?” He asked.
“No,” Arina answered honestly, “they step aboard and they can look but I have allowed nobody to pry or measure.”
Drustan knew that the young girl worshipped the boat. As a fisherman’s daughter who had often fished with her brothers in the Celtic waters, Arina knew a special craft when she sailed one.
“Good girl, I’ll return to watching her now. You should join my sisters; and get a bath; you stink of fish and salt.”
“That’s not my fault!” Arina snapped. “I’ve been watching The Angry mermaid for three days without relief and there have been lots of people curious about her! I know I stink! You don’t have to tell me!”
Arina was grateful for the release but a little hurt at Drustan’s insensitivity. Girls did not like to be told that they smelled. She immediately tried to avail herself of Aiofe and Mabina’s privileges. Aiofe and Mabina were absent all that day so at first the palace staff were reluctant to allow a mere fisherman’s daughter to savour the luxuries of the chieftain’s family’s own bathing facilities but Arina soon circumvented that issue. She promptly returned to Drustan still stinking of fish and Drustan immediately demanded equal treatment for the little girl he was beginning to become attracted to. As a welcome hero who had done so much to save the town, Drustan’s merest request to the chieftain was tantamount to an immediate command when translated to the lower orders. Arina got her bath and a beautiful new gown to boot for Isobel took the waif under her wing when she recognised yet another fellow traveller, orphaned by the violence of the times.
That night, Arina got to sleep in the same chamber as Aiofe and Mabina, it was the first time she had done so and only because of Drustan’s intervention. Drustan was a bit surprised and angry with his sisters for not insisting that Arina be treated as an equal despite her lowly origins as a fisherman’s daughter. On the journeys they had shared, the younger girl had worked every bit as hard as the others and proved herself their equal.
That same night Drustan remained on the Mermaid for he still trusted no-one. During the night he was not surprised to find Eric and Carl visiting the ship and he waited warily with dagger hidden in his tunic.
“What d’you want?” Drustan asked suspiciously. “I thought you’d be at the feast, celebrating your freedom.”
“Still as distrusting as the girl are you?” Carl replied in faltering Latin.
“I don’t know you. All I know is that you’re Saxons or Angles. You’ve never told me how you came to be slaves on a Corsair pirate ship.”
“We’ve never had the chance. You were almost unconscious and delirious when Eric and Torvel rescued you.”
“No. I think it was me that rescued you.”
Carl fell silent for the boy’s words were true. If his arrows had not beheaded the pirate ship by killing the commander, slave master and two other high ranking Corsairs, they would never have had the opportunity to free themselves. All the slaves owed the boy their freedom but his ship was such a tantalising prize. Carl and Eric had come to the middle sea by way of trade and their merchant ships had been attacked by the Corsairs. Their slow seaworthy trading ships had been well armed but stout and ponderous. Although they had put up a stiff fight, they had been easily overwhelmed by the attacking pirate fleet of Corsairs. Had their ships been as fast as this Celtic boy’s strange craft they might well have made a fist of it and escaped.
“We have no intentions of stealing your ship my boy.” Eric added. “We would just love to learn its secrets; what gives her such speed.”
“Oh you’ll not steal her. The guards on the quay are watching you. I have only to call.”
“Don’t you trust anybody boy?” An exasperated Carl asked.
Drustan wagged his head slowly and meaningfully. With accelerated maturity came cynicism and suspicion. Drustan’s early tribulations had only speeded that development. He glared at the Saxons.
“At home you are my people’s sworn enemies, you and those damned, murdering Norsemen! Why should I trust you?”
“The Norsemen are everybody’s enemies. But here in the middle sea we all face the same enemy; the Corsairs.”
“I’ll reserve judgement on that.” Was Drustan’s final word as he invited the men to leave whilst glancing meaningfully towards the guards on the quay who had been watching the interplay with considerable interest.
Carl and Eric left more disappointed than angry, it was obvious to them that the scars the boy sported gave good, unspoken reason for his total lack of trust. Wherever the boy had been; it must have been a hard school. Further proof of the boy having ‘walked the walk’ was the fact he never spoke of his scars. Those that had met and faced death rarely did. The memories were usually too painful.
Eric and Carl were a bit angry that the boy still distrusted even those who had treated him and brought him to safety; the two men were forced to respect the boy’s untrusting nature. These were hard and dangerous times now that the ‘Pax Romana’ no longer held. ‘Learn quickly or die quickly’ seemed to be the general rule of life for those who ventured abroad. After the Saxons had left, Drustan thanked the guards for their vigilance and fell into a well deserved sleep. The sun was mid-morning high when he opened one eye as the girls chattering alerted him to their approach. Isobel stepped aboard the boat and caused it to rock.
“Hello sleepyhead.” Mabina smiled.
“I wasn’t asleep,” he argued as he exposed the knife in his grip under the cloak.
“Hello smelly,” Arina added, determined to get her own back for the previous slight.
Drustan ignored the gentle ‘put down’ as he turned to Aiofe and Isobel.
“So what news?”
“We captured anther two Corsair ships.” Isobel replied. “One as it struck a rock in the fog and the guard ship captured another as they retreated. It was a stiff fight though. The town wishes to thank you.”
Drustan yawned and Aiofe frowned as she motioned to him to cover his mouth.
‘Ever the older sister!’ Drustan sighed wearily as he wondered exactly what Isobel meant by ‘thanking him’. Drustan had little time for ceremony, ‘one day somebody could be praising you and heaping riches on your shoulders and a few days later he could be your sworn enemy.’
As for politics; Drustan’s youth and premature cynicism gave him no chance of learning skills to handle intrigue and scheming. Too young yet to garner insight, he had already set forth upon a lifestyle of distrusting isolation. He trusted no man and only three women, his sisters and Arina. The main reason he slept alone now was to ensure that there were few occasions when he and his sisters were together and capable of being captured as one. Somehow he felt safer if he was separated and distant from his sisters except in open spaces where enemies could not approach unseen. The Mermaid gave him this space and no amount of wheedling by his sisters could entice him to sleep in the town.
“I’ll guard my beloved ship,” he declared whenever they tried to encourage him to accompany them into town. If he did leave the mermaid it was only when Arina agreed to stand watch. Only she seemed to realise how much interest there was in Mermaid’s unusual hull. Mabina and Aiofe seemed to have become more enamoured of the town’s delights and pleasures.
Four days later the Turdetani King arrived with his queen and entourage to inspect the consequences of the battle. The town in the shadow of the Gibral Rock was an important port and gateway to the Turdetani lands and if the Corsairs had taken it the consequences would have been grave. King Appotel and his queen Bramana were powerful monarchs amongst the Celtiberian tribes and the ownership of the Gibral rock was a major status symbol. The Corsairs attempt to take it now that the Romans had departed had finally reinforced the chief’s message to his king.
‘Hold the Gibral Rock at all costs!’ The rock, the bay and the town were vital communication strongholds. King Appotel had finally realised their importance and he had come to determine what additional defences and precautions had to be made.
He also wished to meet ‘The Celtic Boy’ for King Appotel had only recently received a northern report of the spectacular defeat of the Viking Jarl, Blueface in the Britannic Islands a year earlier. That defeat in the lands of the Dumnonii had put a stop to the brutal Blueface’s seemingly irresistible advance southwards.
It was reported that a Celtic boy no less, had somehow fought the dreaded Viking chief to a standstill and received serious cuts to his arse and crotch in defeating the Jarl. The story had grown with the travelling and telling but King Appotel had sense enough to realise that a Celtic boy recently arrived with scars to his arse and a ship as fast as the one reputedly used to outflank the Jarl’s forces needed closer inspection. After completing the formalities of inspection and arranging their quarters at Arton’s Palace King Appotel was itching to check if the boy and his boat were one and the same as the boy who had killed Blueface. Only Appotel had the facts as reported in the reports he had received from cousins in the Basque regions and they had a letter in Latin from Penderol the Dumnonii chief vouchsafed by a second letter from King Dryslwyn himself. The old Roman communications were but a shadow of their former glories but they still served to carry information if slower and less certain. Only Appotel had the facts and he could check out the boy’s story.
Appotel could hardly contain his excitement when his sub-chief Arton finally pointed to the boy and the boat.
“I thought you said he was alongside.”
“He was, - this morning. He must have cast off.”
“Why? Did he have your permission?”
“He has free pratique my lord. We traded that for the secrets of those strange sails. Even now our boat-builders are about to test a similar suit of sails on one of our own craft. The trials were prepared for your visit.”
As Arton spoke the trial ship appeared from the dock with the new sails and presented itself for Appotel’s inspection. Several of the town’s senior trading captains in addition to Eric and Torvel had formed a crew to put the new sails through their paces. As the ship put alongside the quay Appotel and Arton boarded. Arton cast a knowledgeable eye over the rig but King Appotel was a soldier and knew little of ships and sails. He would depend on Arton’s knowledge.
A second ship with the older upper boom design joined the new ship and both ships were put through their paces while Drustan and The Angry Mermaid stood off untrustingly from a distance. King Appotel looked towards the boy and his small craft.
“Why does he not pay his respects to me? I am king!”
“He neither trusts nor respects any-one sir,” Eric explained, “not even Torvel or me and we rescued him from his injuries.”
King Appotel turned to Torvel who nodded agreement before he concurred.
“He trusts no-one sir, absolutely no-one! He’s a strange one is that boy.”
The king pulled a wry smile and nodded for the tests to get underway.
The new suite of sails quickly proved their worth particularly when beating up to windward and the tests were quickly completed. Every seaman who had partaken agreed that the new design was better. For the first time since sailors had ventured from the middle sea between the Pillars of Hercules the Turdetani now had a ship that could beat upwind into the vast western sea. This alone would enable them to outrun as well as defeat the Corsairs. No longer would the Turdetani have to wait for an easterly wind to take them westwards. King Appotel was a distinctly happy man. It now remained to meet the boy. To do this he had to co-opt the help of Isobel, Arton’s adopted daughter and the only town’s-person to whom the boy appeared to show the slightest trust. As the test ships were secured for the night, the king and his party retreated into the town whilst Isobel was made to stand alone on the quay and wave the boy back to the quay. Eventually Drustan sped like a racehorse towards the harbour and from the ramparts of the town’s defences even King Appotel could note the Mermaid’s unbelievable turn of speed.
“No wonder he outflanked Blueface,” Appotel murmured to himself as he watched Isobel shouting to the distrustful boy.
“Drustan, the king commands your attendance. It is rude to refuse. Please come alongside.”
“I have no king. Only the great western sea is my master.” Drustan called back.
Isobel flung her arms up in frustration.
“Oh don't be so melodramayic. Why do you not trust us? Your sisters do.”
“Does your word stand with the king?”
Isobel faltered. While her word was good for her adoptive father Arton, it might not have credence with the king. She nodded her head and agreed to speak with King Appotel. Drustan turned smartly about and single-handedly drove the Mermaid back across the bay just to reinforce how valuable the little ship was. He had done several crossings of the bay before a weary Isobel reappeared on the quay accompanied only by King Appotel. This is itself was a rare honour for kings rarely parleyed without courtiers and men at arms present. Drustan sailed close to the quay and set the mermaid in irons within speaking distance.
King Appotel was pleased that he did not have to shout.
“I am King Appotel of the Turdetani, Are you the same Drustan of the Gangani who defeated Blueface the Viking Jarl?”
“Who told you that?” Drustan replied. “I have never spoken of it here and my sisters are sworn to silence.”
King Appotel was already getting to like the boy. A straight talking lad who had obviously not swanked about his achievements. He explained.
“I am a king Drustan. It is a king’s business to know as much as he can to serve and protect his kinsmen. I have the reports here; a year after the event I’ll grant you but accurate. Tell me now your version, here were nobody is within earshot. I will know if you are the same boy.”
“What of the woman beside you, - Isobel. Send her away.”
“By the one God!” Isobel muttered, “why does he have to be so untrusting. His sisters are much easier to deal with.”
Appotel turned and smiled at Isobel.
“Indulge me good lady. Please. Step out of earshot.”
Isobel walked away wagging her head and wondering why the boy seemed to be getting more and more paranoid.
In modern times today Drustan’s paranoia might be attributed to post traumatic stress disorder for the Dumnonii Battle against Blueface had been a truly bloody affair and Drustan, still just a boy, had been in the thick of it!
Once assured that Isobel could not hear his words, Drustan tightened the sheet and brought the Mermaid alongside as neatly and gently as King Appotel had ever seen. He threw a rope to the king and motioned to him to secure it to the thick wooden mooring post. Appotel had never been so instructed to conduct such a menial task since being crowned and anointed. Isobel watched and smiled.
‘If ever a king was cut to size, that simple, single act had done it. In one simple gesture, Drustan had established his equality with the king and without even realising it.’
Once the Mermaid was secure Drustan invited the king aboard to talk. Appotel was intrigued and stepped gingerly into the craft for he was still wearing his ceremonial suite of arms. Without further ceremony, Drustan spoke bluntly.
“Why would you want to know of my battle with Blueface?”
“If you are that same boy, you are worthy of elevation to ennoblement.”
“King Dryslwyn offered me that. I refused it then and I refuse it now.”
“Well that sits with the reports. You would appear then to be the same boy. Tell me exactly what happened and show me your scar.”
Drustan rolled his eyes impatiently.
“Which scar, I’ve got two now.”
“The one were Blueface cut you.”
“Why should I? I’m sick of showing everybody my arse! I don’t have to prove anything to anybody. It was a dirty fight; I was stupid, crazy, angry and lucky; I dived under his shield then crawled under his chain-mail tabard and skirt then stabbed him in the genitals before he could reverse his sword and bring it inside his own shield wall. It was his last stand; he was prepared to die with his men anyway. I just got in first because I was small and swift.
Appotel nodded silently. ‘The boy’s words basically matched the report penned by Penderol the Dumnonii chief.’ King Dryslwyn had also written of the boy’s reluctance to flaunt his scarred arse and the embarrassment it caused, especially when women were absent. Truly this had to be the same boy!’
“Very well boy, I believe you, and yes you have my free pratique to enter any port in my domain without charge, let or hindrance. I will get my scribes to prepare your letter of marque.”
Appotel saw the boy visibly relax at this promise and finally the king realised just how stressed the boy was. He reached out to extend a hand of friendship and the boy cautiously extended his own but not before drawing back his tunic to reveal his other hand resting on a vicious looking dagger. The king frowned.
“That’s not a very friendly gesture is it son?”
“Who am I to trust? You could kill me easily with that sword you have on your belt.”
Appotel frowned and promptly unbuckled his belt to cast the sword onto the quay.
“There, now, please; your hand; in trust and friendship.”
Drustan extended a trembling hand and Appotel took it in his huge paw. The boy’s grip was weak and Appotel realised from the gaunt sunken eyes that he had not been eating properly. Lack of trust had even extended to checking the food freely sent each day by Arton’s wife Carinia.
“For God’s sake boy, relax! I mean you no harm and as King, I promise you and your craft a safe haven. Come with me now and dine with me. There is even a seat reserved for you on the high table.”
“Who will guard my ship?”
“Dammit boy! Would you have me bring the feast to the quay and set up bloody table right here?”
For a fleeting instant the young inexperienced Drustan actually considered the idea then rejected it as he realised the King’s sarcasm. It was this realisation that brought home to Drustan just how far he had gone down the road of disfunctionality. He shook his head then turned to stare into the king’s eyes as he finally conceded the issue.
“Very well, I will dine with you this day but nobody measures my ship and nobody checks its construction.”
King Appotel wagged his head in despair and relief.
‘God the boy was difficult!’
They carried on talking mostly about the children’s voyages and loss of their family to the Norsemen’s attack. Finally, when the king had the full picture he invited Drustan ashore.
As the king stepped ashore again Drustan made to follow, hesitated, bent one more time to check the moorings, then reluctantly followed the king to the feast. For the first time, The Angry Mermaid was unwatched by one of her crew.
He stood briefly on the quay debating one last time to leave her unattended and the king took the opportunity to recover his sword and belt. As Appotel buckled it he spoke of Blueface’s sword left behind for safekeeping in Britannia.
“Was Blueface's sword as good as this sword Drustan?”
“Let me see.”
The king unsheathed his finely worked sword and Drustan held it for balance before offering an opinion.
“Blueface’s sword was heavier and more destructive in his hands but this sword seems better balanced. It’s lighter and easier to swing, - and the blade seems altogether better. Sharper and less pitted. It’s got a better finish and the craftwork at the handle is finer.
Drustan swung the sword around his head and made several passes and strikes then smiled.
‘I’m definitely growing stronger. I could hardly lift Blueface’s sword but this I could use.’ He thought as he remarked to Appotel
“This sword is definitely better but Blueface’s sword probably tells a bloodier story. He plagued our lands for longer than I have lived. Has this sword ever fought?”
The Turdetani king smiled.
“No Drustan it has not. It’s my ceremonial dress sword. However it’s a proper sword made in a place called Toledo. They are noted for the steel in their swords.” I also have a fighting sword very similar to this one but my staff look to caring for my equipment. That sword has fought.”
The king spotted the slightest nuance of envy in the boy’s eyes as he reluctantly handed the beautifully worked sword back to its owner.
“I cannot give you this sword my boy for it is a ceremonial badge of office and authority. I could have a sword like this made for you if you would like. Would you consider that a fair trade for the secrets of the Mermaid’s hull?”
“Yes, probably but I must speak with my sisters first.” The boy replied thoughtfully.
The king sighed with some relief. ‘It seemed the boy had a price but it was an honourable one.’ A Toledo blade was already measured as priceless by all who had ever owned one and used it in anger. ‘And this boy would certainly need one if he were to carry on as he was!
Two battles and two immense life threatening wounds already earned from battle. The boy led a dangerous life!’ The King surmised silently as they trudged up the hill.
This chapter describes how Drustan finally meets his Celtiberian cousins and gets drawn into affairs of state. It alo explores further Drustan's burgeoning sexual duality.
The Angry Mermaid 8.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 8
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Dawn arrived damp and cool. A fog had settled over the Straights of Hercules thus Drustan awoke to find the land invisible to him and he invisible to the land. He took a drink from the last fresh water pot and debated washing himself in the sour dregs that was all that remained of their water. Blueface’s wound still bled and he was irritated with himself that it seemed to refuse to heal so he threw caution to the wind and sluiced the blood away to leave only a few cupfuls of water in the pot. They had an agreement so he should be able to renew their water that morning so he expected to get more soon. He studied his blood-stained breech and cursed. Blood was the devil’s own stuff to wash out of linen. Dare he wash it out? He asked himself.
‘Should he or shouldn’t he use up the last of their water?’ He wondered. He stared thoughtfully at the clay pot with its thin ring of green slime and decided to leave it. Until he saw and tasted the promised fresh water he would take all precautions. Reluctantly he re-secured the lid of the pot and made it safe as he contemplated one more dip in the salty sea. Partly to refresh himself and mainly to try and wash his breech-cloth out.
Long trained to be cautious, he did not plunge into the water with a loud revealing splash but rather he climbed silently down the knotted rope and slid secretively beneath the crystal clear sea that lay like a mirror under the still, foggy air. Not a ripple or sound disturbed his ablutions for it was the very earliest of hours. Whilst in the water, he took the rare opportunity to check out the Mermaid’s hull and reassured himself that all was correct. It was.
His beloved little ship had not yet failed him once. Gratefully he climbed aboard again and dried himself in the spare linen sail. Then he sipped sparingly on some more water and chewed on some cold, dried fish. He wondered how his sisters fared so he could only wait now until the fog lifted.
He set about re-tidying the deck again and checking that the precious gold, silver and copper was still secure under the filth and ballast in the bilges. Finally there was nothing else he could do to occupy his fretful mind and he dozed on the mattress of the spare leather storm sail. In the silence of a windless fog, sound travels immensely far over water and he strained his ears for any sounds of life from the shore. There was none but he hadn’t expected any. He had no idea of local customs or habits but he did not expect any boats to come out to the anchored Mermaid until the fog had lifted. In the first place they would have trouble locating him.
He felt the sun rising slowly until eventually he could see its weak watery orb above the low fog bank. At the same time the peak of the great rock appeared above the fog, this was an indicator that the sun was beginning its job of burning off the fog. Drustan decided to climb the mast for it was often possible to see over a low fog bank. As he did so he concluded that the fog bank was still too thick and high so he could see little more. For a few minutes he sat perched on the tiny cross-tree where the new block served to hoist the sail. It was not the most comfortable of places but he rested there to recover his strength before climbing down to the deck. The diet of dried fish, stale bread and fresh water for the passage from Brithony had left him thin but wiry. After resting and regaining his strength, he clambered lithely down again and sat recovering his breath for a few moments before a sound caught his ear.
There was the slow steady beat of a ship’s sweeps accompanied by some low murmuring voices. He strained all his senses to locate the source but they confused him. He checked the precious lodestone, compared his orientation with the peak of the great rock and determined that the sounds were coming from seaward.
‘Who could it be?’ He wondered. ‘Surely they did not change the guard boat in the fog.’
Nervously he cast about for something to do, something to secure his situation, so he started shortening his anchor. If he had to run he did not want to have to cut his anchor and leave the useful anchor stone behind. It would mean having to run the boat ashore to collect another one and to do that alone was difficult; especially as the middle sea was reputed to have no tides to float off again at high water. Besides there was the question of anchor rope. To cut any would necessitate a considerable loss. Linen rope was durable and valuable. He did not want to lose any.
Slowly he hauled the anchor rope in until the stone was almost bouncing on the bottom. The Mermaid started to yaw for want of a proper anchor lead and that told Drustan there were still currents to be considered. The rowing sounds got louder and Drustan peered uncertainly into the cursed fog.
‘Why would anybody be approaching from the sea, and why did they not hail the shore?’ He continued to wonder.
Then Isobel’s words came to him and a dull feeling sagged in his belly. (A state of virtual war existed in the great straights!)
The low murmuring grew as the rowing sounds approached so Drustan decided to hail the approaching vessel. He dug out the great Viking long-horn from under the sails and unplugged the mouthpiece of long horn to check that the air flow was clear. Then, taking a deep breath, he released a long sonorous note that rumbled across the fog banks.
‘Nobody can have missed that!’ He concluded as he waited for a response.
The rowing ceased immediately and the murmuring stopped but no shout came from the fog. Drustan decided to blow another blast. To have called blindly into the fog would have alerted the new visitors that the owner of the unbroken, treble voice was but a boy or a girl.
‘That would be giving away too much information.’ He concluded. Caution had become Drustan’s middle name.
Instead he took a deeper breath and blew again into the Viking horn. An even longer, deeper note rolled out across the fog but still no response from the sea. To Drustan’s suspicious mind that could mean but one thing. ‘Whoever was approaching in the fog did not want to declare their intentions and that could mean only one thing.’
Immediately Drustan pointed the great long-horn towards the town and gave a series of shorter but more powerful, explosive blasts. He had no idea what sort of alarm system they had ashore ‘but surely a signal as distinct as that must alert them to something!’
His convictions proved correct for almost immediately a loud, deep-toned bell pealed out across the bay to be answered from the other side. Drustan didn’t even know which side he should join with but the town held his sisters so that had to be made safe. Suddenly a series of shouts and curses erupted through the fog and Drustan decided it was time to make himself and the Mermaid scarce. One boy having to sail a ship and fight it against an unquantified foe was a huge no-no.
‘Time to leave!’ He decided as he hoisted the sail then hauled in the last remnants of the anchor rope. Within moments the faithful racehorse sprang to the growing anabatic, sea-breeze and the Mermaid was soon dancing over the rippled sea on a broad reach that took her across the bay and across the path of the approaching visitors. It was only as he emerged from the edge of the fog bank that he just spotted the ghostly outline of some strange ships with long triangular sails slipping silently and almost invisibly along the edge of the fog bank towards the town and harbour.
‘Clever! Very clever!’ Thought Drustan. ‘They stick to the seaward edge of the fog-bank so that they can see each other and navigate their way but they are invisible to the shore! Well, we’ll see about that!’
Drustan hooked the tiller to keep the Mermaid up to the freshening wind then he took the great horn and puffed a series of short rapid blasts. The sound could do little else but convey ‘danger’ and ‘urgency’. He was pleased to garnish a response from the shore. The loud sonorous peel of the church bells was joined by a rapid, higher pitched ringing of many smaller bells.
‘Well, if they were asleep before, they’re awake now!’ He grinned.
‘So what to do next?’ He wondered.
The only advantages he and the Mermaid had were speed, agility and the ability to know what course he kept in zero visibility; thanks to the precious loadstone. He realised that the owners of the foreign sails had spotted his strange craft for suddenly two of the vessels peeled off from the fleet and steered a course directly for him. They meant business for the sweeps were beating a frantic rhythm. Drustan had two options, first to outrun them with the mermaid’s speed and the second was to hide in the fog. He chose the latter.
‘Why reveal my beloved Mermaid’s secrets to them now,’ he decided, ‘better to lose them in the fog!’ He altered course and quickly re-entered the fog bank further out to sea.
He steered a course due south until he emerged in the rougher waters of the great straights and finally clear of the inshore fog-bank. Here the prevailing westerly wind had resumed with the sun’s heat to clear the fog. Drustan could see clear across to the other side of the straights and friendly white horses leapt from the wavelets to show the force of the westerly breeze. Ideal conditions for the Mermaid to show her paces.
Drustan recklessly turned about to observe his pursuer’s emergence from the fog and he didn’t have long to wait. Soon he was playing the Oyster-bird’s trick by feigning injury and tardiness as he invited the Corsairs to chase him. Confident in their ability to ensnare the strange ship they set about their usual pincer movement to encircle their prey and finally close the ring. It would have worked easily, as it always had in the past, had the Mermaid been a typically slow, ponderous trading craft. This time it was different.
The lack of sweeps, or oars as they are more commonly known to modern men, led the Corsairs to believe they were pursuing a common trading ship. The pursuers split up and pulled hard on their sweeps as they set about encircling the tiny craft who had betrayed their plan of invasion. Drustan smiled as he held the Mermaid on a southerly course to the Southern Pillar of Hercules. On such a broad reach with a westerly wind it was easy to adjust his speed to fool the pursuers that they were slowly gaining on the betrayer. All he had to do was keep plying south until the oarsmen were exhausted. Whether slaves or free-men, they could not keep up the frenetic pace all the way to the southern shore for that’s where The Angry Mermaid seemed destined. Eventually, the Corsair galleys had to give up. They had been rowing all morning and it was close to noon. Broken slaves with blood pouring from their whipped backs lay slumped on their oars as the Corsair pirates cursed and screamed their fury.
Drustan smiled inwardly and wondered what next to do. He was tempted to loose some fire-arrows into the pirate ships for the range of his sister’s long bow was greater than the Corsairs simple short bow used for close infighting between ships. Besides, he had no convenient fire and it would take time to start it. Also he knew that the slaves were probably chained to their oars and if the galleys sunk, they would also drown. Though such a death might be preferable to the living hell they lived now.
Having now got the Corsair galleys where he wanted them, namely effectively de-engined with an exhausted crew of ‘sweeps-men’, and stranded in the middle of the great straights were the east-going current was strongest, he could take his time. The Corsair pirates only slowly realised that they had become the prey.
Like a hunter pursuing a tiger, once he had lost his gun he would become the hunted. Drustan studied the slaves, some deep black; some brown, some burned red from the sun and with red Celtic hair whilst others were once fair-haired yet now bleached almost white from the sun.
These Drustan concluded, must be enslaved Celts or Norsemen or Saxons or Danes. The boy felt mixed feelings. Many of those enslaved men might well have once been pirates themselves. Some might even have killed his kinsmen on the Celtic shores. But then even he and indeed, his own sisters had golden hair!
‘What to do?’ He wondered.
His eyes fell upon Aiofe’s long slender bow. All the children knew that Aiofe treasured it for it was the strongest and most accurate amongst the children’s weapons.
‘Perhaps if he stood off out of range of their bows and loosed some arrows into the corsair ships,’
He picked it up and fingered it respectfully. ‘Had he any right to touch his older sister’s treasured possession.’ He concluded he had little choice.
Once again he tied off the tiller to set the Mermaid on the steadiest course while the corsairs now set their own sails to pursue. With the Mermaid now running with the wind on her distaff quarter before the Westerly wind, she steadied on a course that would return her to the northern shores. Drustan was now able to aim and shoot aft with effect. Taking endless care for he had endless time he finally got the corsair commander in his sights and fired. The accuracy of Aiofe’s bow left him breathless with euphoria as he watched the arrow speed unerringly towards its target and plunge through the brute’s chest armour directly into where his heart should be; ‘if he had one!’ Drustan mused. The man fell immediately but Drustan had already nocked another arrow to his sister’s bow. Another high ranking man with brightly decorated armour fell to the deck before the corsairs realised their prey had teeth and claws and they had now become the hunted.
The pursuing ship veered off nervously but there was now no escape. The Angry Mermaid easily matched them for agility and speed so Drustan was soon upon them again. He loosed another arrow but it missed as the sweeps were put to work again and a bare-chested man thrashed his whip about with brutal effect.
‘You next you bastard!’ Drustan murmured to himself as he waited for the Mermaid to steady.
The arrow hit the slave-master with such force that it drove the man down amongst the very rowers he had been whipping but Drustan was too preoccupied to notice as he searched the decks for his next target. A man in a bright green tunic standing at the bow, seemed to be somebody of rank so he was Drustan’s next choice. The arrow hit the man in the arm, he was disabled but he remained standing and cursing. Drustan fired again quickly but missed the man altogether. However, his arrow found and killed another standing next to the high ranker. Drustan cursed but reconciled himself to his score. ‘Four dead and one wounded out of six arrows from a moving ship’s deck was a bloody good score.’ He now found a new respect for his sister’s treasured bow.
He decided to call it a day. He only had a few arrows left and the sun was now at its hottest and he had had nothing to eat or drink since that early morning. He was hungry, tired and he had no idea where his next decent meal was coming from. Dried fish did only so much for a growing boy’s hunger.
Reluctantly he broke off from the battle but tiredness and the irritability with Blueface’s wound caused a lapse of concentration. As he turned to break away, he passed just too close to the second corsair ship and suddenly found himself under fire from their short ranged fighting bows. A single arrow slashed down his arm peeling open the flesh as it ricocheted off the wrist bone and flashed away to embed itself in the rudder-post behind him. Drustan let out a scream of pain and hauled desperately on the tiller with his remaining good arm. The Mermaid span faithfully on her fulcrum and sped away to the north as the boom slammed across and caught the wind on the other tack. It was a desperate manoeuvre and could easily have smashed the Mermaid’s rigging but the faithful craft held up and took her wounded partner swiftly out of danger. The corsairs were left howling with frustration as the mermaid put distance between them and all eyes turned disbelievingly to watch her disappearing speedily to windward at an impossible angle to the westerly wind.
Two of the oar slaves looked on with greater knowledge of seamanship for they had once been ship captains themselves. They had never seen any craft sail so close to the wind and they had once captained ships of war during their younger days in the tempestuous northern seas! Having ceased to row, the gasping men had time to whisper privately.
“Well Carl, think what we could have done with a ship like that! What manner of craft is she?”
“Never mind what we could have done with her Eric, look what we can do with this! Look what I have here.” He whispered to his oar companion.
“What’s that?”
“It’s only the bloody key to our chains! When the slave master was killed it fell from his belt and nobody’s noticed in all the mayhem. It opens all the slave shackles.”
Even as he spoke, Eric freed his own wrists and swiftly passed the key down the line of slaves with a message to wait for the signal.
Within minutes all the slaves were free as the Corsairs were preoccupied with their dead leaders. On Eric’s signal, they rose as one and overwhelmed their outnumbered, leaderless captors.
Drustan knew none of this. The arrow strike had left him weak and dizzy from loss of blood. Fortunately it had struck no vital blood vessels but he had lost a lot of blood and there was little he could do. There were no bandages for even Aiofe’s petty-coat had gone ashore with his sister, as she had dressed for the feast that previous night. Desperately he set the sails to meet the wind and the Mermaid slowly picked her way three points to the wind as she made her painful way back to the northern pillar of Hercules. The battle and chase had taken them several leagues into the middle sea. The distance, easily made whilst fighting before the wind, now had to be recovered slowly, tack by painful tack. With each desperate effort to reset the sails and make a tack through the wind, Drustan was becoming weaker and weaker with loss of blood. He feared he would not make it back past the north pillar of Hercules, the great rock that gave shelter to the town where his sisters might even now be captured into bondage. Tears of frustration and fatigue escaped his tired eyes as fear drove him to push his body beyond its capability. Eventually, as the sun set, he collapsed at the foot of the rudder stock and could only hold feebly onto the tiller to steer by the stars as he hoped and prayed that he might make a landfall on the north shore somewhere. It was not to be though, Drustan had reached the end of his tether and he collapsed unconscious through loss of blood.
Fortunately for Drustan help was closer than he knew. The second Corsair captain had broken off the fight because he thought the Angry Mermaid was repeating the earlier tactics of playing the wounded bird. As the Angry Mermaid sailed blindly north and west towards the great rock, the second corsair raider was sailing east for his home port with his tail between his legs.
The first corsair ship had been captured and taken over by its own crew of oarsmen. Furious from long months of brutal bondage, the oarsmen had risen as one and exploded off the benches. All the Corsairs were swiftly killed, and the vessel was now under the command of Eric and Carl. Both men had seen the arrow strike Drustan’s arm and heard him emit his boyish scream of pain as blood immediately flowed from the long slash in his arm. They debated whether to check if the boy was alright for the Angry Mermaid was now behaving erratically.
“I tell you Carl; he’s just but a lad. He was hit badly and he’ll need treating. I saw the wound open up as if he had been filleted like a fish. We owe him our freedom if nothing else.”
“But he’s a bloody dangerous lad Eric. And that bow he had, you take a risk if you approach him un-invited. He’ll be like a wounded animal I tell you; frightened and dangerous.”
“That’s if he’s still conscious; the course that bloody boat is making tells me there’s nobody at the helm. It’s only the set of that strange rig that keeps her steady to that course. Look at it yawing and pitching with every wave. There’s nobody on the tiller, look!”
As the captured Corsair ship finally overtook the erratic Mermaid, Eric was able to confirm his suspicions as he peered from the high prow straight down onto the deck of the smaller craft. He spotted the crumpled, unresponsive form prostate on the deck by the rudder stock where Drustan had finally collapsed. So he called to his companion master Carl.
“The boy’s down, there’s blood all over the deck where he lies. Bring me alongside and we’ll see if he’s to be mended.”
Carl bent to the steering oar as other experienced seamen amongst the freed oarsmen, swiftly adjusted the sails to match the Mermaids reduced erratic speed. Within minutes the corsair craft was alongside and Eric leapt easily down onto the Mermaid’s deck. One look told him the boy was pretty far gone. He called back to the Corsair ship.
“Are there any of you with medical skills?”
“Aye, me!” An olive skinned Greek replied.
“Then come here quickly, the boy’s badly done.”
The physician moved quickly for he too had much to thank the unknown child for; and he knew it. He had found the Corsair medical kit after the fight and some of the slaves had been wounded. Grabbing what had now become his de-facto badge of rank of ‘ship’s surgeon’, he joined Eric at the tiller of the Mermaid.
“You treat him, I’ll steer this bloody craft.” Eric suggested.
He called across to Carl and explained.
“The boy was obviously heading for the Gibral Rock! We might as well make for there!”
“Well make haste, d’you need any more crew.”
“Aye one’ll do it, best a Celt, this boy looks like a Celt and his short jerkin has Celtic whorls. If he wakes up, it’ll be best if we can talk to him.”
Carl called for one volunteer and several Celts stepped forward. All were seamen and all were eager to discover the secret of the Mermaid’s speed and agility for she had led them a cruel and exhausting dance. Their previous captors had whipped them unmercifully in an effort to overtake the little craft that was even now dancing to the waves and itching to be away. A young man named Torvel was despatched by Carl to assist Eric while the physician busied himself with the wounded child. Eric and Torvel both being experienced seamen soon had the Mermaid under control and they even surprised themselves as the craft leapt eagerly forward to soon overtake the Corsair vessel. Carl’s eyes widened with disbelief at the sudden acceleration for now that two men could handle both tiller and sails simultaneously, the mermaid could really show her paces. As they left the Corsair vessel floundering in their wake. Eric turned to Torvel.
“By the Gods she’s fast! How so?” He wondered loudly in his broken Latin.
“She’s a strange craft alright,” Torvel agreed, “those triangular sails and no steering oar but that pole thing attached to a fixed blade that swings. That must explain it.”
“No there’s something else. Something about the hull, look how it’s widest at the mast and the long easy taper to the blade. Yet her arse is still wide, like a fat hen’s feathers. She’s a strange-un alright!”
“Well, strange or not,” Torvel finished, “she’ll have us at the Gibral Rock in no time! Just look at that wake! Did you ever see?”
Both men stared transfixed at the wake until a low whimper attracted their attentions. The Physician had stemmed the blood loss and Drustan was slowly recovering. The whimpering had been Drustan’s response to the Physician’s needle work as he cleaned the wound with herbs and lotions then stitched the two long strips of skin together. Eric and Torvel watched and grinned.
“The kid’ll have a fine scar for the ladies to admire when he’s older.” Chuckled Eric.
“He’s already got a good scar. Look at his arse.” The physician interjected as he peeled back the boy’s britches and both men studied the huge angry slash.
“Well I’ll be buggered!” Torvel laughed uproariously. “This kid’s already seen some action!”
“Aye and not yet in his fifteenth summer I’ll wager.” The Greek added. “Only a sword could have done that and a bloody sharp one. It was no game or sword practice being played by whoever cut him like that. He really meant to kill the boy.”
“Well he’ll not likely see his sixteenth summer if he carries on as he has. First a sword cut and now an arrow strike. The next one’ll be a bloody spear, and a fatal stabbing I’ll wager, if he carries on with his recklessness.”
“Well the sooner he gets back to the Gibral rock, the better it will be.” The Greek physician added. “ Mind you this is an interesting medical bag. There are several herbs and potions in here that I don’t recognise.”
“Yeah, well the kid looks much more comfortable now. He’s got a bit of colour back, what did you do?”
“I recognised several of the effluvians and he sipped a goodly dose just now. You were too busy getting to know this strange craft. He’ll live now. A comfortable bed with a maid to care for him and he’ll be soon to rights.”
“Will his arm be usable?” Torvel asked.
“Yes. He managed to make a fist for me before relapsing. I’m letting him sleep now but I still fear for the boy’s condition. He needs warmth and fresh food. There’s only some dried fish and a few crumbs of stale bread.”
Thus concerned about the boy’s condition, the three ex slaves set to with avengance to speed the Mermaid back to Gibral rock.
They arrived at the dead of night and the town was tense with anticipation. The Corsair’s sneak attack in the fog had been beaten off but the mood was still nervous. Fortunately the Greek physician spoke excellent Latin and several lookouts recognised the strange outline of the Mermaid as she swept rapidly between the breakwaters. News of the boy’s injuries was swiftly exchanged and messages rushed to the town’s physician and Drustan’s sisters. Everybody had heard Drustan blowing the Viking horn that morning and Aiofe had warned the town elders that it meant danger. Drustan’s warning had been greatly appreciated and the boy was already a hero. Now he had returned with even greater tales of glory to his name but the Physicians, plus his sisters, Aiofe and Mabina were far more concerned about his wounds. The Greek consulted with the town’s physician and neither were yet sure of the outcome. All that could be done, had been done, they could only wait and hope. Aiofe and Mabina spent many tearful worried hours watching and waiting and hoping. Arina had been tasked to guard the mermaid.
Drustan slept until the following noon and finally recovered to find his sisters sitting either side of a comfortable bed. Their eyes were red-rimmed with crying but as he softly croaked for water they gasped a huge sigh of joy that was swiftly followed by more tears of relief.
Naturally, his first feeling was pangs of hunger and he called for food. Aiofe smiled at Mabina as they exchanged their first words since Drustan’s return.
“He’s getting better, he’s thinking of food.” Aiofe said.
“I’ll never rib him about it again!” Replied Mabina
“And so would you think of food my young ladies if you hadn’t eaten or drank for two days.” The physician scolded them. “Now if you want to do something useful; give him some of this broth.”
Both girls eagerly reached for the broth, keen to be the first to feed their brother. Aiofe won for the Physician recognised her senior age but Mabina was not resentful for she was given the water and Drustan struggled feebly to sit up. His wounded arm failed him and he slipped on his wounded side causing him to howl loudly with confusion and pain. Both physicians reached forward to assist him and check the wounded limb. The wound proved to be still clean and uninfected. The herbs and potions had done their work.
Drustan’s cry was heard throughout the infirmary and the town’s elders demanded to know. They had been waiting nervously all night.
The Greek Physician advised everybody as he stepped from the room.
“It was nothing; he just slipped and hurt the wounded limb as he struggled unexpectedly to sit up. It’s started bleeding a bit but will soon stop. He’s now taking water and broth! The boy looks as though he’ll live.”
“Can we see him?” The chief asked.
“One of you can come in but don’t excite him. He’s nervous and very confused. He was hallucinating during the night but we took no notice. He’s cognisant now but very, very weak. His sisters are feeding him. He recognised them and that has given him reassurance.”
Isobel stepped forward as the appointed delegate for she had met the boy earlier and was therefore a familiar face. She followed the Greek back into the single bedroom as Drustan fretted about the Angry Mermaid.
“Don’t worry little brother. Our vessel is safe. Even now Arina sits with her safe in the harbour.” Aiofe soothed him as Mabina wiped his brow again.
Drustan sagged with relief then tensed again as he met Isobel’s gaze and wondered where he was. He thought he was being held captive. He gave another nervous whimper but Aiofe recognised her younger brother’s continuing confusion as he went in and out of hallucinations. She spoke soothingly as she stroked his good arm.
“It’s alright Drustan. You’re safe and amongst friends. The Corsairs have gone!”
She turned to the Physician.
“Have we anything for his confusion or should we let him sleep again?”
“After he’s finished his food and water,” The Town physician replied as she checked to see how much her patient had eaten. “There are only a few mouthfuls to go.”
“Can we not speak to him yet,” Isobel asked.
“If he’s still confused, and he appears still to be, his answers will be of no value. Best let him sleep again.”
She held up a small phial of medicine to indicate her intent as she poured some into Drustan’s water.
“The longer he lies still the faster that nasty wound will start to heal. He started bleeding again when he slipped just now.”
Mabina was washing the wound but Drustan was oblivious to anything. He had slipped back into sleep again of his own accord. Exhaustion had won. The physician reassured the girls.
“You can go now. He’s eaten food and this is a natural sleep. He’s on the mend.”
The girls sagged with relief and tears overtook them as Isobel escorted them past the waiting councillors back to the chieftain’s household. The doctors emerged and gave a progress report to the waiting throng. Drustan slept the day around and another night.
During his sleep the freed slaves had consulted with the town’s elders and their useful information had been passed inland to the capital city. Already the king was sending emissaries to interview the slaves who were to be granted citizenship.
More importantly, little Arina had been kept busy preventing curious individuals from learning any of the Mermaid’s secrets. For this she had been forced to invoke Isobel’s agreement about trading secrets but several of the freed slaves from the Corsair Galley had shown undue interest in the little craft; most notably, Carl, Eric and Torvel, who were all experienced seafarers.
Their main curiosity lay in the rig of the two sails and all three men, just like the townsmen traders had failed to spot the real secret.
Mermaid’s hull was exceptionally light for Welsh Oak was a very hard, tough, stiff wood. Although it was difficult to work, Drustan’s forefathers had been using the wood for generations and the iron secrets of their cousins on the Isle of Mon had enabled them to work the wood to their will. The deep light frames gave her the stiffness and rigidity that enable her to pound and pant against all but the most destructive of seas. This lightness also enabled the Mermaid to carry an exceptionally heavy load of ballast without unduly adding to her draught. Naturally the intense weight of the gold bars still lying undetected under the stone ballast and filth gathered in the garboard strake bilges added enormously to that low, centre of gravity. It made for a very stiff vessel but an incredibly stable and responsive one. Arina had to be constantly alert to surreptitious efforts to garnish the craft’s secrets. Furthermore, neither Arina nor Aiofe had yet discovered the existence of the gold for Drustan and Mabina had been very tight lipped. The twins knew that the less people who knew, then the less mouths to betray their precious secret. Arina was totally ignorant that beneath the fish carcasses and accumulated filth under the small spread of floorboards around the foot of the mast, there lay a small fortune in gold beneath the ballast jammed between the floors.
She allowed visitors to step aboard and even study the craft she had come to worship as her home and saviour but none were allowed to poke or prod or measure any part of the Mermaid.
Eventually Drustan started to recover from his wound and the physicians let him up. His very first act was to revisit his beloved ship and check with the young Arina.
“Has anybody been poking around her secrets?” He asked.
“No,” Arina answered honestly, “they step aboard and they can look but I have allowed nobody to pry or measure.”
“Drustan knew that the young girl worshipped the boat. As a fisherman’s daughter who had often fished with her brothers in the Celtic waters, Arina knew a special craft when she sailed one.
“Good girl, I’ll return to watching her now. You should join my sisters; and get a bath; you stink of fish and salt.”
“That’s not my fault!” Arina snapped. “I’ve been watching The Angry mermaid for three days without relief and there have been lots of people curious about her! I know I stink! You don’t have to tell me!”
Arina was grateful for the release but a little hurt at Drustan’s insensitivity. Girls did not like to be told that they smelled. She immediately tried to avail herself of Aiofe and Mabina’s privileges. Aiofe and Mabina were absent all that day so at first the palace staff were reluctant to allow a mere fisherman’s daughter to savour the luxuries of the chieftain’s family’s own bathing facilities but Arina soon circumvented that issue. She promptly returned to Drustan still stinking of fish and Drustan immediately demanded equal treatment for the little girl he was beginning to become attracted to. As a welcome hero who had done so much to save the town, Drustan’s merest request to the chieftain was tantamount to an immediate command when translated to the lower orders. Arina got her bath and a beautiful new gown to boot for Isobel took the waif under her wing when she recognised yet another fellow traveller, orphaned by the violence of the times.
That night, Arina got to sleep in the same chamber as Aiofe and Mabina, it was the first time she had done so and only because of Drustan’s intervention. Drustan was a bit surprised and angry with his sisters for not insisting that Arina be treated as an equal despite her lowly origins as a fisherman’s daughter. On the journeys they had shared, the younger girl had worked every bit as hard as the others and proved herself their equal.
That same night Drustan remained on the Mermaid for he still trusted no-one. During the night he was not surprised to find Eric and Carl visiting the ship and he waited warily with dagger hidden in his tunic.
“What d’you want?” Drustan asked suspiciously. “I thought you’d be at the feast, celebrating your freedom.”
“Still as distrusting as the girl are you?” Carl replied in faltering Latin.
“I don’t know you. All I know is that you’re Saxons or Angles. You’ve never told me how you came to be slaves on a Corsair pirate ship.”
“We’ve never had the chance. You were almost unconscious and delirious when Eric and Torvel rescued you.”
“No. I think it was me that rescued you.” Drustan riposted.
Carl fell silent for the boy’s words were true. If his arrows had not beheaded the pirate ship by killing the commander, slave master and two other high ranking Corsairs, they would never have had the opportunity to free themselves. All the slaves owed the boy their freedom but his ship was such a tantalising prize. Carl and Eric had come to the middle sea by way of trade and their merchant ships had been attacked by the Corsairs. Their slow seaworthy trading ships had been well armed but stout and ponderous. Although they had put up a stiff fight, they had been easily overwhelmed by the attacking pirate fleet of Corsairs. Had their ships been as fast as this Celtic boy’s strange craft they might well have made a fist of it and escaped.
“We have no intentions of stealing your ship my boy.” Eric added. “We would just love to learn its secrets; what gives her such speed.”
“Oh you’ll not steal her. The guards on the quay are watching you. I have only to call.”
“Don’t you trust anybody boy?” An exasperated Carl asked.
Drustan wagged his head slowly and meaningfully. With accelerated maturity came cynicism and suspicion. Drustan’s early tribulations had only speeded that development. He glared at the Saxons.
“At home you are my people’s sworn enemies, you and those damned, murdering Norsemen! Why should I trust you?”
“The Norsemen are everybody’s enemies. But here in the middle sea we all face the same enemy; the Corsairs.”
“I’ll reserve judgement on that.” Was Drustan’s final word as he invited the men to leave whilst glancing meaningfully towards the guards on the quay who had been watching the interplay with considerable interest.
Carl and Eric left more disappointed than angry, it was obvious to them that the scars the boy sported gave good, unspoken reason for his total lack of trust. Wherever the boy had been; it must have been a hard school. Further proof of the boy having ‘walked the walk’ was the fact he never spoke of his scars. Those that had met and faced death rarely did. The memories were usually too painful.
Eric and Carl were a bit angry that the boy still distrusted even those who had treated him and brought him to safety; the two men were forced to respect the boy’s untrusting nature. These were hard and dangerous times now that the ‘Pax Romana’ no longer held. ‘Learn quickly or die quickly’ seemed to be the general rule of life for those who ventured abroad. After the Saxons had left, Drustan thanked the guards for their vigilance and fell into a well deserved sleep. The sun was mid-morning high when he opened one eye as the girls chattering alerted him to their approach. Isobel stepped aboard the boat and caused it to rock.
“Hello sleepyhead.” Mabina smiled.
“I wasn’t asleep,” he argued as he exposed the knife in his grip under the cloak.
“Hello smelly,” Arina added, determined to get her own back for the previous slight.
Drustan smiled bnut ignored the gentle ‘put down’ as he turned to Aiofe and Isobel.
“So what news?”
“We captured anther two Corsair ships.” Isobel replied. “One as it struck a rock in the fog and the guard ship captured another as they retreated. It was a stiff fight though. The town wishes to thank you.”
Drustan yawned and Aiofe frowned as she motioned to him to cover his mouth.
‘Ever the older sister!’ Drustan sighed wearily as he wondered exactly what Isobel meant by ‘thanking him’. Drustan had little time for ceremony, ‘one day somebody could be praising you and heaping riches on your shoulders and a few days later he could be your sworn enemy.’
As for politics; Drustan’s youth and premature cynicism gave him no chance of learning skills to handle intrigue and scheming. Too young yet to garner insight, he had already set forth upon a lifestyle of distrusting isolation. He trusted no man and only three women, his sisters and Arina. The main reason he slept alone now was to ensure that there were few occasions when he and his sisters were together and capable of being captured as one. Somehow he felt safer if he was separated and distant from his sisters except in open spaces where enemies could not approach unseen. The Mermaid gave him this space and no amount of wheedling by his sisters could entice him to sleep in the town.
“I’ll guard my beloved ship,” he declared whenever they tried to encourage him to accompany them into town.
If he did leave the mermaid it was only when Arina agreed to stand watch. Only she seemed to realise how much interest there was in Mermaid’s unusual hull. Mabina and Aiofe seemed to have become more enamoured of the town’s delights and pleasures.
Four days later the Turdetani King arrived with his queen and entourage to inspect the consequences of the battle. The town in the shadow of the Gibral Rock was an important port and gateway to the Turdetani lands and if the Corsairs had taken it the consequences would have been grave. King Appotel and his queen Bramana were powerful monarchs amongst the Celtiberian tribes and the ownership of the Gibral rock was a major status symbol. The Corsairs attempt to take it now that the Romans had departed had finally reinforced the chief’s message to his king.
‘Hold the Gibral Rock at all costs!’ The rock, the bay and the town were vital communication strongholds. King Appotel had finally realised their importance and he had come to determine what additional defences and precautions had to be made.
He also wished to meet ‘The Celtic Boy’ for King Appotel had only recently received a northern report of the spectacular defeat of the Viking Jarl, Blueface in the Britannic Islands a year earlier. That defeat in the lands of the Dumnonii had put a stop to the brutal Blueface’s seemingly irresistible advance southwards.
It was reported that a Celtic boy no less, had somehow fought the dreaded Viking chief to a standstill and received serious cuts to his arse and crotch in defeating the Jarl. The story had grown with the travelling and telling but King Appotel had sense enough to realise that a Celtic boy recently arrived with scars to his arse and a ship as fast as the one reputedly used to outflank the Jarl’s forces needed closer inspection. After completing the formalities of inspection and arranging their quarters at Arton’s Palace King Appotel was itching to check if the boy and his boat were one and the same as the boy who had killed Blueface. Only Appotel had the facts as reported in the reports he had received from cousins in the Basque regions and they had a letter in Latin from Penderol the Dumnonii chief vouchsafed by a second letter from King Dryslwyn himself. The old Roman communications were but a shadow of their former glories but they still served carry information if slower and less certain. Only Appotel had the facts and he could check out the boy’s story.
Appotel could hardly contain his excitement when his sub-chief Arton finally pointed to the boy and the boat.
“I thought you said he was alongside.”
“He was, - this morning. He must have cast off.”
“Why? Did he have your permission?”
“He has free pratique my lord. We traded that for the secrets of those strange sails. Even now our boat-builders are about to test a similar suit of sails on one of our own craft. The trials were prepared for your visit.”
As Arton spoke the trial ship appeared from the dock with the new sails and presented itself for Appotel’s inspection. Several of the town’s senior trading captains in addition to Eric and Torvel had formed a crew to put the new sails through their paces. As the ship put alongside the quay Appotel and Arton boarded. Arton cast a knowledgeable eye over the rig but King Appotel was a soldier and knew little of ships and sails. He would depend on Arton’s knowledge.
A second ship with the older upper boom design joined the new ship and both ships were put through their paces while Drustan and The Angry Mermaid stood off untrustingly from a distance. King Appotel looked towards the boy and his small craft.
“Why does he not pay his respects to me? I am king!”
“He neither trusts nor respects any-one sir,” Eric explained, “not even Torvel or me and we rescued him from his injuries.”
King Appotel turned to Torvel who nodded agreement before he concurred.
“No-one sir, absolutely no-one! He’s a strange one is that boy.”
The king pulled a wry smile and nodded for the tests to get underway.
The new suite of sails quickly proved their worth particularly when beating up to windward and the tests were quickly completed. Every seaman who had partaken agreed that the new design was better. For the first time since sailors had ventured from the middle sea between the Pillars of Hercules the Turdetani now had a ship that could beat upwind into the vast western sea. This alone would enable them to outrun as well as defeat the Corsairs. No longer would the Turdetani have to wait for an easterly wind to take them westwards. King Appotel was a distinctly happy man. It now remained to meet the boy. To do this he had to co-opt the help of Isobel, Arton’s adopted daughter and the only town’s-person to whom the boy appeared to show the slightest trust. As the test ships were secured for the night, the king and his party retreated into the town whilst Isobel was made to stand alone on the quay and wave the boy back to the quay. Eventually Drustan sped like a racehorse towards the harbour and from the ramparts of the town’s defences even King Appotel could note the Mermaid’s unbelievable turn of speed.
“No wonder he outflanked Blueface,” Appotel murmured to himself as he watched Isobel shouting to the distrustful boy.
“Drustan, the king commands your attendance. It is rude to refuse. Please come alongside.”
“I have no king. Only the great western sea is my master.” Drustan called back.
Isobel flung her arms up in frustration.
“Why do you not trust us? Your sisters do.”
“Does your word stand with the king?”
Isobel faltered. While her word was good for her adoptive father Arton, it might not have credence with the king. She nodded her head and agreed to speak with King Appotel. Drustan turned smartly about and single-handedly drove the Mermaid back across the bay just to reinforce how valuable the little ship was. He had done several crossings of the bay before a weary Isobel reappeared on the quay accompanied only by King Appotel. This is itself was a rare honour for kings rarely parleyed without courtiers and men at arms present. Drustan sailed close to the quay and set the mermaid in irons within speaking distance. King Appotel was pleased that he did not have to shout.
“I am King Appotel of the Turdetani, Are you the same Drustan of the Gangani who defeated Blueface the Viking Jarl?”
“Who told you that?” Drustan replied. “I have never spoken of it here and my sisters are sworn to silence.”
King Appotel was already getting to like the boy. A straight talking lad who had obviously not swanked about his achievements. He explained.
“I am a king Drustan. It is a king’s business to know as much as he can to serve and protect his kinsmen. I have the reports here; a year after the event I’ll grant you but accurate. Tell me now your version, here were nobody is within earshot. I will know if you are the same boy.”
“What of the woman beside you, - Isobel. Send her away.”
“By the one God!” Isobel muttered, “why does he have to be so untrusting. His sisters are much easier to deal with.”
Appotel turned and smiled at Isobel.
“Indulge me good lady. Please. Step out of earshot.”
Isobel walked away wagging her head and wondering why the boy seemed to be getting more and more paranoid.
In modern times today Drustan’s paranoia might be attributed to post traumatic stress disorder for the Dumnonii Battle against
Blueface had been a truly bloody affair and Drustan, still just a boy, had been in the thick of it!
Once assured that Isobel could not hear his words, Drustan tightened the sheet and brought the Mermaid alongside as neatly and gently as King Appotel had ever seen. He threw a rope to the king and motioned to him to secure it to the thick wooden mooring post. Appotel had never been so instructed to conduct such a menial task since being crowned and anointed. Isobel watched and smiled.
‘If ever a king was cut to size, that simple, single act had done it. In one simple gesture, Drustan had established his equality with the king and without even realising it.’
Once the Mermaid was secure Drustan invited the king aboard to talk. Appotel was intrigued and stepped gingerly into the craft for he was still wearing his ceremonial suite of arms. Without further ceremony, Drustan spoke bluntly.
“Why would you want to know of my battle with Blueface?”
“If you are that same boy, you are worthy of elevation to ennoblement.”
“King Dryslwyn offered me that. I refused it then and I refuse it now.”
“Well that sits with the reports. You would appear then to be the same boy. Tell me exactly what happened and show me your scar.”
Drustan rolled his eyes impatiently.
“Which scar, I’ve got two now.”
“The one were Blueface cut you.”
“Why should I? I’m sick of showing everybody my arse! I don’t have to prove anything to anybody. It was a dirty fight; I was stupid, crazy, angry and lucky; I dived under his shield wall then crawled under his chain-mail tabard and skirt then stabbed him in the genitals before he could reverse his sword and bring it inside his own shield wall. It was his last stand; he was prepared to die with his men anyway. I just got in first because I was small and swift.
Appotel nodded silently. ‘The boy’s words basically matched the report penned by Penderol the Dumnonii chief.’ King Dryslwyn had also written of the boy’s reluctance to flaunt his scarred arse and the embarrassment it caused, especially when women were absent. Truly this had to be the same boy!’
“Very well boy, I believe you, and yes you have my free pratique to enter any port in my domain without charge, let or hindrance. I will get my scribes to prepare your letter of marque.”
Appotel saw the boy visibly relax at this promise and finally the king realised just how stressed the boy was. He reached out to extend a hand of friendship and the boy cautiously extended his own but not before drawing back his tunic to reveal his other hand resting on a vicious looking dagger. The king frowned.
“That’s not a very friendly gesture is it son?”
“Who am I to trust? You could kill me easily with that sword you have on your belt.”
Appotel frowned and promptly unbuckled his belt to cast the sword onto the quay.
“There, now, please; your hand; in trust and friendship.”
Drustan extended a trembling hand and Appotel took it in his huge paw. The boy’s grip was weak and Appotel realised from the gaunt sunken eyes that he had not been eating properly. Lack of trust had even extended to checking the food freely sent each day by Arton’s wife Carinia.
“For God’s sake boy, relax! I mean you no harm and as King, I promise you and your craft a safe haven. Come with me now and dine with me. There is even a seat reserved for you on the high table.”
“Who will guard my ship?”
“Dammit boy! Would you have me bring the feast to the quay and set up bloody table right here?”
For a fleeting instant the young inexperienced Drustan actually considered the idea then rejected it as he realised the King’s sarcasm. It was this realisation that brought home to Drustan just how far he had gone down the road of disfunctionality. He shook his head then turned to stare into the king’s eyes as he finally conceded the issue.
“Very well, I will dine with you this day but nobody measures my ship and nobody checks its construction.”
King Appotel wagged his head in despair and relief.
‘God the boy was difficult!’
They carried on talking mostly about the children’s voyages and loss of their family to the Norsemen’s attack. Finally, when the king had the full picture he invited Drustan ashore.
As the king stepped ashore again Drustan made to follow, hesitated, bent one more time to check the moorings, then reluctantly followed the king to the feast. For the first time, The Angry Mermaid was unwatched by one of her crew.
He stood briefly on the quay debating one last time to leave her unattended and the king took the opportunity to recover his sword and belt. As Appotel buckled it he spoke of Blueface’s sword left behind for safekeeping in Britannia.
“Was his sword as good as this sword Drustan?”
“Let me see.”
The king unsheathed his finely worked sword and Drustan held it for balance before offering an opinion.
“Blueface’s sword was heavier and more destructive in his hands but this sword seems better balanced. It’s lighter and easier to swing, - and the blade seems altogether better. Sharper and less pitted. It’s got a better finish and the craftwork at the handle is finer.
Drustan swung the sword around his head and made several passes and strikes then smiled to himslef.
‘I’m definitely growing stronger. I could hardly lift Blueface’s sword but this I could use.’ He thought as he remarked to Appotel
“This sword is definitely better but Blueface’s sword probably tells a bloodier story. He plagued our lands for longer than I have lived. Has this sword ever fought?”
The Turdetani king smiled.
“No Drustan it has not. It’s my ceremonial dress sword. However it’s a proper sword made in a place called Toledo. They are noted for the steel in their swords.” I also have a fighting sword very similar to this one but my staff look to caring for my equipment. That sword has fought.”
The king spotted the slightest nuance of envy in the boy’s eyes as he reluctantly handed the beautifully worked sword back to its owner.
“I cannot give you this sword my boy for it is a ceremonial badge of office and authority. I could have a sword like this made for you if you would like. Would you consider that a fair trade for the secrets of the Mermaid’s hull?”
“Yes, probably but I must speak with my sisters first.” The boy replied thoughtfully.
The king sighed with some relief. ‘It seemed the boy had a price but it was an honourable one.’ A Toledo blade was already measured as priceless by all who had ever owned one and used it in anger. ‘And this boy would certainly need one if he were to carry on as he was!
Two battles and two immense life threatening wounds already garnished from battle. ''The boy led a dangerous life.'’ The King surmised silently as they trudged up the hill.
This chapter describes Drustan's experiences in Iberia with the Celtiberians.
The Angry Mermaid.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 9
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Eventually the pair reached the meeting hall and all stood respectfully as the king entered. The whole town was gathered except for essential guards. Even the town’s children were gathered at their mother’s knees for a visit by the king was a special occasion. Drustan felt a little overwhelmed by the sudden clamour as he entered but the king placed his arm around the boy’s growing shoulders and reassured him.
“Fear not lad, they love you as one of their own.”
Drustan spotted his beloved sisters seated at the high table and smiled with Satisfaction. Even the sweet little Arina had been granted the honour. The king sensed the boy’s relief and gladness at seeing his sisters so he spoke to the boy.
“Go and join them lad. Your seat is next to my Queen Bramana. Your sisters sit beside me.”
Drustan hesitated but the king reassured him.
“Go on lad, be seated, I’ll join you after I have made my formal entry. Don’t be afraid, I’ll talk to nobody. It’s an official welcome from the town."
Drustan broke away from the king but kept glancing back. True to his word, the king was talking to nobody and simply waiting for Drustan to reach his seat. Drustan suddenly realised he was keeping a king waiting and hurried to take his seat. Queen Bramana smiled as he nervously took his place beside her.
“Don’t be frightened, I don’t bite!”
“Sorry Miss, no, - uuhhm madam, no uuhhm- ladyship, - no uuhhm.” He spotted Aiofe on the other side of the King’s seat and she was angrily mouthing ‘majesty’! Drustan’s overloaded brain finally clicked into gear.
“Uuhhm Majesty, yes, your majesty.”
“Well done young man. Only four attempts. I’m impressed.”
Drustan fell silent, tongue tied with embarrassment and confusion. Fortunately the ceremonial drum set up a steady beat and King Appotel commenced his formal progress to the high table to commence the feast. Everybody stood except for Queen Bramana. Then the king took her hand and she rose then sat down simultaneously with her husband. The food followed and Drustan’s hunger made him a poor conversationalist. Queen Bramana was a bit miffed at first until her husband explained in a whisper about the boy.
“Treat him gently my beloved queen. The boy has had a hard year and he still trusts no-one. I have heard his story and seen such effects in others who have seen too much death but never in one so young. Mother him. There is too much responsibility on his shoulders. He feels responsible for the safety of his sisters and the failure to defend his family. Go easy on the boy. Besides, my good woman, can you not see the boy is starving?”
“That much is obvious,” Bramana replied as she watched Drustan’s jaw chewing metronomically. “There hasn’t been a word from his lips since he sat to eat. So why is that? His sisters are well fed and housed here at Arton’s palace.”
The king sighed wearily.
“He lives and dies for that beloved boat of his. I’ve offered him a personalised Toledo blade for its secrets but he still prevaricates.”
“Let me talk to his sisters. It’s no good trying to push the boy if he is uncertain and only trusts his sisters. The way to trade with the boy is through his sisters. I have already spoken at length with the maid Aiofe on several other issues such as the dangers of an unescorted sea passage through the western straits. Let the matter of the boat’s secrets rest for now. I will talk with Aiofe, Mabina and Arina tomorrow morning when we bathe. Let us enjoy the food and entertainment that Arton and Carinia have set for us. Enough of the boat for now, the boy’s head must be spinning with all the interest and intrigue surrounding its hull.”
King Appotel nodded resignedly. His wife Queen Bramana had always been a skilful negotiator. He conceded that she was probably right for the boy’s head had not turned once to show interest in their whispering as his jaws continued to wolf down the food. He conceded Bramana’s argument and turned to the pleasanter duty of talking to the maid Aiofe. Meanwhile Queen Bramana spoke over Drustans head and made polite conversation with Arton as Drustan continued eating everything in sight. Bramana smiled at Arton and glanced at the emptying plates.
‘Truly, the boy was starving!’
Eventually the boy’s apparently insatiable appetite was sated and he looked up ruefully as he realised he had not said a word whilst the rest of the feasters had followed the ordinary mores of good feasting manners. Talking between courses and entertaining each other with good conversation. He turned apologetically to Queen Bramana but she waved her hand indulgently.
“Don’t worry boy, you were obviously starving. Why have you not eaten with your sisters?”
“I could not leave the boat, - her secrets and all, -. If the corsairs garnish those secrets then we will have nothing to get us to Carthage and Aiofe’s betrothed.”
Queen Bramana smiled and wagged her head.
“My boy, I doubt that your splendid little boat even with its miraculous speed, could avoid the Corsair fleet in full battle order. It is reliably reported that the fleet stretches from one side of the Western Straits to the other; and all the ships within bowshot of each other. What you did to them the other day will only have heightened their determination to capture you and they have spies everywhere. Even in this town, I’ll wager.”
Drustan started with alarm.
“What!! Here; in the town!! But my boat, they might even now be, -.”
“Relax boy. She is the most guarded object in the town at the moment; better guarded even than myself and the king. I will speak with you in the morning about your plans for passing through the straits. From what I have heard, they are un-seemingly reckless. Come now let us enjoy the entertainment. Tonight you can sleep where you will, even back on your ship if you prefer.”
Drustan sagged with relief. Queen Bramana was a wise woman, wife and mother who knew just how to treat with impatient men and more importantly anxious youths.
By the time the entertainments and dancing was over it was past the middle hour but even so, Queen Bramana remained true to her word and she accompanied the youth Drustan back to his ship.
This in itself was a salutary act of respect and honour for normally Queen Bramana was rarely seen without her entourage and body guard. The honour however was lost on Drustan’s youthful ignorance. He had learned nothing of courtly ways in a childhood that had been prematurely ended by his sudden and premature propulsion into an adulthood fraught with travel, danger, responsibility and death.
A cursory check confirmed to Drustan that everything was as it should be and even the sharp witted Bramana did not notice his careful testing of the footboards with his feet around the mast pulpit to ensure that they had not been loosened or dislodged. The gold was still safe!
He thanked the queen profusely more as a youth of his mother than a subject of its queen and he promised to attend the strategy discussions the next morning. As he made his bed amidst the leather and linen sails the queen wagged her head uncomprehendingly.
‘What manner of boy was this that yet sported battle scars at such an early age and slept under the stars?’ She wondered as she returned alone to Arton’s palace.
At the morning’s conference in the meeting house, the town’s defences were to be discussed and reinforced, but the King also had another agenda. For the Turdetani and all the other Southern Iberian and Celtiberian tribes to move forward and trade with the rest of the middle sea nations, the Corsair threat had to be neutralised!
A crucial factor in these plans was to somehow wheedle the secrets of The Angry Mermaid from Drustan in order to build a fleet of small fast boats to act as outriders and messengers to the main Turdetani fleet.
To this end, Queen Bramana worked her motherly feminine wiles on the three sisters. The idea was put to them as ‘making the Straits safe to legitimate trading ships’. This was of course of direct concern to Aiofe who desperately wanted to meet with and marry her beloved Magab. The safer her passage, the faster she would get there without having to avoid pirate attacks. The girls were quickly convinced for both Mabina and Aiofe were now women and new fully of the awful fates that could befall them if captured. Queen Bramana was able to tell her husband that the first part of the negotiations seemed complete. The girls at least were convinced of the benefits to be garnished. It now only remained for them to find a useful bargaining chip to persuade their brother to render up The Angry mermaid’s precious secrets. Here King Appotel had the edge; in the Toledo blades he already had a bargaining counter.
After the first discussions were over the sisters joined their brother in the refectory. Bramana watched discreetly as she saw the girls talking animatedly with their brother. Mainly it was Aiofe arguing with Drustan.
“But brother, if we are too late getting to the Numidian city it is possible that Magab will presume me missing, either captured or dead. I must get there before the Winter Solstice, I simply must. The betrothal contract names that closing date."
“But that is several moons away! We have plenty of time.” Drustan argued.
“Not if we cannot fight our way past the Corsairs! And I for one refuse to countenance the chance of capture and rape. I would prefer to travel overland to Cartagena and sail from there.”
“Don’t be stupid. That would take months to organise and more months to travel. Besides who would escort you. You are not royalty to command armies to protect you.”
“Then I would go alone before I risk the corsairs. Everybody I have spoken to including two escaped women, have told me they are unbelievably cruel.”
Drustan flung down the bread he was chewing and cursed as he invited Mabina to a private audience far outside in a small orchard where nobody could spy.
“Do you not forget something twin sister?” Drustan asked in the softest of whispers as he made sure he was totally out of earshot.
“Forget what.”
“The Mermaid’s value.”
“That value is only her speed. Now that people know of her, somebody is bound one day to determine her dimensions. King Appotel might even be forced to determine her secrets if their whole nation is threatened. This war with the corsairs is coming to a head!”
“I’m not talking of those secrets sister. Dammit! Have you forgotten the other?”
“What other. She has no other secrets!” Snapped Mabina.
“Quiet girl. Not so bloody loud!”
“Why. What secrets. What secret is so important to you?”
Drustan almost screamed with frustrated anguish but he managed to suppress his distress and almost bit his twin’s ear off as he dragged her head to his lips, growled into her ear and forcibly reminded her of the Mermaid’s long hidden and obviously forgotten cargo.
“Have you forgotten the gold you stupid bitch? Only you and I know of it. It seems you have forgotten it!”
He released his twin and she gasped with shocked remembrance. Her jaw sagged and she drew back sharply as she finally remembered the precious cargo buried deep amongst the tightly packed ballast.
“Shit! I had forgotten all about it!”
“How could you forget such a huge responsibility?” Drustan croaked as he struggled again to not scream in frustration.
“Sshh! Walls have ears!” Mabina cautioned.
“Hence the orchard sister. Can you see anybody around?”
Mabina cast about and saw the face of Queen Bramana gazing down from the meeting room window. Unless the queen could lip read in Old Celtic Welsh there was little chance that she would have understood what passed between Drustan and his twin. However Mabina motioned discreetly to her brother.
“What are we to do then? King Appotel will need more boats like the Mermaid if he is to defeat the Corsairs.
“That I am prepared to give him sister, now that I know what’s afoot; but before I can let anybody run their measures over her we have to hide the gold.”
“So what to do?”
The pair sat in silence as they considered a solution. Mabina slowly formulated an idea.
“Could we not hide the gold under the water while Arton’s shipwrights garnish all they need?”
“That’s a good idea sister but how to mark the spot?”
“The harbour is not deep if we dive to the bottom whilst pretending to check the hull for problems we can hide the gold in a place we can return to if we mark it discreetly on the bottom.”
“We can do it this afternoon before I make up my mind. Go back to that Queen Bramana you are so fond of and tell her I am considering the nature of the trade. In the meantime I’ll bury the gold. There are only six bars and I’ll be diving on the hull for many dives under the pretence of a close inspection. I’ll hide the gold at the bottom of the quay wall below the dolphin she is moored to. That way I’ll be able to work under the Mermaid and nobody will be able to look down to see what I’m doing.”
“Right brother. Consider it done. I’ll keep the king and queen occupied while you go about it.”
Drustan returned to the Mermaid while Mabina returned to the meeting house to explain Drustan’s absence.
“He’s gone to have a think your majesties. Give him space and time. The boat means everything to him and he’s trying to decide what to trade. While he is thinking he will be inspecting the underwater hull. He often meditates best when he’s busy.”
As she said this, Mabina turned to Aiofe for confirmation for it was true. Aiofe nodded as the king replied.
“I’ve offered him a sword made from the best steel in the world. What more can he want?”
“I don’t know my lord king. Who knows what my twin will decide. I know he’s more or less decided to part with the boat’s secrets but he feels the price must reflect the true worth.”
“He’d best be reasonable. We need the boat’s secrets and time is pressing.”
Bramana turned and smiled at her husband.
“Patience dear spouse. The boy is nervous and unsure of his trading skills. Be generous with him. That boat is priceless.”
‘If only you knew how priceless!’ Mabina thought as she smiled inwardly then mentally scolded herself for ever having forgotten about the gold. ‘It just shows what sort of a year my brother and I have had that I should forget such a vital fact.’ Some of the gold would make an excellent dowry for their older sister if she ever got to meet Magab. But then, if they declared the gold to Aiofe then others would know of it when she offered a dowry.’
Mabina decided not to mention the gold to Aiofe or Arina unless and until the Mermaid arrived in Carthage. After some more talk she excused herself from the discussions. Mabina could add little to the talk of the town’s defences and she decided she would be better employed helping her brother by distracting the guards. She skipped down to the mermaid and found her brother already stripped to his loin cloth as he made pretence of inspecting the boat.
“Hello brother,” she called as Drustan surfaced, “have you sorted the issues yet?”
“Drustan was relieved to see Mabina; she could easily distract the guards with her maidenly charms and perfect smile. Blue eyes and golden hair would also help for Mabina had an exotic air to her as far as the darker brown- eyed Turdetani guards were concerned. All eyes were soon on Mabina as she practised her newfound feminine wiles and Drustan immediately slipped the bars into a dirty brown bag and silently plunged to the bottom where he found a perfect niche deep in the submerged harbour wall to hide the bars. He surfaced with care and made a note of the hidden location referenced to the mooring dolphins and a large conspicuous stone set at the top of the quay wall. Drustan had successfully hidden the gold and marked the place well in his mind’s eye. This done he made a further pretence of checking the hull then noisily declared his satisfaction as he surfaced for the last time. He dried himself off and returned with his sister to the meeting house.
“Well have you made up your mind young man?” Queen Bramana asked.”
“Nearly, I want to talk to my older sister.”
“Gosh you’re a difficult man to please Drustan. Aiofe’s over there talking to the King and Lord Arton.”
With his usual brusque and unsophisticated manned Drustan didn’t even excuse himself from the queen’s company as he stepped across the hall to capture Aiofe’s attention. Mabina wagged her head resignedly but Queen Bramana smiled indulgently as she spoke to Drustans twin.
“Patience dear girl, he’s still but a boy and with lots on his mind.”
‘You can say that again,’ Mabina reflected silently, ‘my brother must have been worried sick about the gold since leaving Fon all that time ago.’ A year and some several moons she calculated as she guiltily remembered that she had totally forgotten about the priceless cargo in all the adventure and dangers they had faced since that awful day.
“She apologised to Queen Bramana for her brother’s ill-mannered ways but Bramana just smiled as she watched the boy walk straight up to the Appotel and Arton without any sign of deference or obsequiousness.
“May I talk with my sister please?”
The king turned slightly startled that a mere boy should approach so boldly until he recognised Drustan. He grinned as he acknowledged the boy.
“Ah! It’s Drustan Scar-arse. Well my boy, does your sister wish to talk to you? We are discussing important affairs of state concerning the town’s defences. You sister has some useful pointers about conflict and that’s rare indeed in a maid.”
“I would still talk with her please. This is important to me, - and her.”
Lord Arton shrugged and spread his hands in apparent despair. It seemed that the boy had no tact or diplomacy whatsoever. The king glanced at Arton and wagged his head as he granted consent for Aiofe to leave his company.
“See what your brother wants young lady. He seems to find it pressing.”
Aiofe bowed courteously and stalked to where her brother stood waiting by the door.
“Must you be so rude brother? That is the king I was talking to!”
“This is more pressing. I need your advice and it concerns the king’s business.”
“This would be the Mermaid’s secrets then I presume.”
“I’m prepared to trade those now but I want a decent return. He had promised me a Toledo blade but I think I can get him to grant us each a blade. I have held his in my hand, they are superb weapons.”
“And what would we sisters want with swords. We are not much trained in sword play.”
“If you want to see your betrothed prince you’re going to have to travel with the battle fleet. It’s the only safe way to get to Carthage in time for the winter solstice. That means they are going to have to build a small fleet of smaller escort craft like the mermaid, swift and manoeuvrable. That is going to take a couple of months. Time will be pressing by the time Appotel is ready to set forth. You girls can use that time learning the rudiments of swordplay. You might well need it if the Corsairs break through the battle line.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“Firstly I would travel to Toledo. The Iberians don’t know that I have much knowledge of forging iron. Brun taught me much while my older brothers were learning the sword. You know how they always scorned me for my lack of size and light weight. When we are bespoke for our swords I will study their steelmaking arts.”
“What! Must we travel to Toledo with you?”
“What else can you do? Sit here and make tapestries or something.”
His sister snorted derisively then nodded. drustan continued.
“You will garnish more knowledge travelling with me to Toledo plus you will be better known and there might be news of Magab. Mabina thinks the idea sound.”
“So that’s your trade then, bespoke sword for us all in return for the Mermaid’s secrets.”
“I’m more interested in their steel-making but don’t let that be known.”
Suddenly Aiofe had an insight into her younger brother’s cunning. His real trade was the Mermaids secrets for the Toledo steel-making secrets. She smiled knowingly then acceded to his wishes. The girls would definitely accompany him to Toledo.
“Very well, Toledo it is, but we’d best be mounted and not trundled along in some slow old coach. A horse is much swifter.”
“We three ride, I don’t know about Arina. She was only a fisherman’s daughter,” Drustan observed, “she may not be able to come.”
“Ask her. It’ll take a couple of days for you to explain the Mermaid’s secrets to their shipwrights. She can learn the rudiments of riding in that time. She is young and light so the journey will be no hardship.”
“Can I trust Arina’s education to you? We must tell the king of our trade. Come on.”
Before Aiofe could say more Drustan had already returned to the king’s side. He stood there looming at the man’s arm until the king was forced to acknowledge the boy. He did not hide his irritation at the boy’s inconsiderate impetuosity.
“What is it now Drustan!” Appotel demanded.
“We are agreed. I have a trade for the Mermaid’s secrets.”
“And what is that? The moon; the sun; the stars?
“No.” Drustan replied briefly; ignoring the king’s sarcasm. “It’s nothing like as expensive as that.”
“So what is it boy?”
“Swords. Quite simply sir. Swords. One each, bespoke and tailored to my and my sister’s arms and we would go to Toledo to be measured for them. That is the fastest way to get them.”
The king’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Is that it? Is that all? Just four swords.”
“It’s all I want. The secrets of the Mermaid are priceless to you. She is easy to build and you will be able to produce a whole feet of her sisters within two moons. The only fear I have is that you have no Welsh oak. We must find what alternatives you have here.”
“We have Iberian oak.”
“Very well sir, bring what you have to the building yard tomorrow and we will compare all the types of woods. There are several loose floorboards in the Mermaid’s pulpit bilge. We can compare timbers like for like.”
Lord Arton gasped at the boy’s brusqueness. ‘To have the cheek to order the king about!’ He shook his head disbelievingly but Appotel simply smiled. The boy was right. ‘In two moons they would be lucky to add but two or maybe three capital ships to their fleet, but ‘Mermaids’ they could build aplenty! Besides they had warships enough to hold their own against the Corsairs.
The fast, nimble Mermaid escorts might well give their force a naval advantage!’
“Leave it my Lord Arton. Indulge the boy. His skills and Ideas will be sorely needed in the days to come.”
“But your majesty, the boy is rude and brusque and ignorant!”
“The boy is also clever and brave. Indulge him. There is a greater picture but we must first defeat these damned Corsair pirates.”
Appotel turned to Drustan and extended his hand.
“Very well lad. It’s a deal; a trade.”
Drustan shook the king’s hand and immediately made to leave.
“Where are you going now boy?” Arton demanded, once again irritated at the boy’s cavalier dispensation with the King’s august company.
“Back to the dock my lord. To take my boat around to the building yards. Your shipwrights must first learn her secrets before they can copy her. There will be templates and jigs aplenty to make before work can start on building her sisters. She must therefore be slipped and cleaned.”
King Appotel wagged his head and could not suppress his smile. He was growing to like the boy Drustan. ‘Would that his beloved Bramana could bear him a son as bold and courageous as this one. So far it had been all daughters albeit beautiful, affectionate and loyal girls.’ Appotel desperately wished for a son.
He watched the boy trotting down to the dock and turned to Lord Arton as Aiofe and Mabina approached showing all the respect and deference to King Appotel. After apologising for their brother’s seeming ill-breeding they chatted about Drustans agreement about the swords then Aiofe turned to look down into the harbour. She saw the mermaid’s familiar mast and sails moving behind the warehouse.
“Oh by the Gods! Where’s he going now?” She wailed as she imagined her brother set forth upon another wild irresponsible venture.
Both Arton and Appotel smiled as they reassured her.
“He’s going nowhere my dear maid. He simply moves the Mermaid to the building yards where our shipwrights can learn her secrets. Mermaid is to be slipped.”
“Slipped?” Mabina wondered.
“Yes my dear. We don’t have those strange immense changes in the sea level that you have on the Western Sea. We pull our boats out of the water to repair and refurbish them. Mermaid is to be slipped immediately. Your brother is going to watch and learn.”
With a sigh of relief Aiofe excused herself and returned to discuss the forthcoming journey to Toledo with Queen Bramana who hailed from central Iberia.
Mabina requested that she be allowed to join her brother. Appotel wisely agreed for he knew of the twin’s equal capacity and authority when it came to the Mermaid. Mabina changed her beautifully embroidered gown for a pair of britches and several female heads turned censoriously as they watched a girl, no less, in boy’s apparel skipping down to the building yards. Drustan showed no such disapproval as he turned to greet his twin.
“Hello Sis, come to see how it’s done?”
Mabina nodded as she immediately started to study the hauling arrangements.
As captains and owners of the mermaid, the twins had full authority to attend their vessel’s slipping and both of them peppered the building yard master with questions. As the sleek and unusual taper began to reveal itself out of the water, the shipwrights all gathered curiously and the flow of questions reversed. Drustan now had to answer their questions as profiles were taken and templates soon fashioned. Eventually the mermaid stood free of all water and Mabina eyed her protectively. Whilst their beloved little ship seemed desperately unhappy to be separated from her natural environment, namely the water; her graceful lines appealed to Mabina and she had chance again to adore her brother’s handiwork. She had no chance to praise him though for he was surrounded by shipwrights demanding his attentions. Instead, she fell to checking the caulking and ties which being from Lleyn, meant they were Fon copper from The Paris Mountain mines. Even so she was forced to back away as labourers were already scaling the barnacles off her hull.
The next morning when Mabina returned, she was immensely pleased to find the mermaid’s hull spotlessly clean and free of all growths. Drustan was away discussing timbers with the King’s forester so the Yard master unusually approached Mabina, a mere slip of a girl.
“You are so lucky to have all copper nails. We will not be able to bless her sisters with those. You must be very fortunate to have access to so much copper.”
Mabina explained about her Miner cousins who owned and operated the Paris Mountain Copper workings in Northern Fon. Her cousins supplied copper and some other non ferrous metals but she did not mention the gold or silver that were each a tiny by-product of the copper smelting. Then she explained that her side of the family built the ships from the oak they grew in groves around their village. Tearfully she revealed how all this and her family was now lost to them with the brutal Norse invasions. The yard-master gently reached out, placed his huge arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him like some protective father.
Mabina savoured the attention and dried her tears on his rough leather working jerkin. Eventually she recovered from her weepy spell and they fell to discussing practicalities as Mabina described some of the tricks and procedures her family used in their boat construction. Whilst unlike Drustan, she had not actually worked on the manufacturing techniques back home on the family’s slips at Lleyn; she had certainly watched and learned for she had a sharp eye and a keen mind. She had however, helped Drustan a lot with his building of the mermaid as his own pet project and he had discussed all his ideas with her. Mabina knew almost as much as her brother about the Mermaid’s construction but she was a little vague about his ideas and principles. In Drustan’s absence however, she was able to supply sufficient information to please the shipwrights. When Lord Arton and his King visited the yards at noon they were amused and surprised to see Mabina, the fourteen-year-old maid, now as pretty as her older sister, sitting on a pile of undressed timber sharing rough bread and rougher wine as she chatted unconcernedly with the shipwrights and the yard-master.
Arton turned to Appotel and smiled before the shipbuilders had realised who the two cloaked visitors were.
“Just look at her. Every bit as bold as her brother but much more sociable. She’ll be a maid to weave a special magic one day.”
Appotel nodded and smiled as he removed his hood and revealed himself to the men and the maid. Shocked, the whole yard staff and Mabina stood as one for Mabina was much more attuned to courtly manners than her uncouth brother.
“Good progress Master Faahn.” The King addressed the yard master as he cast a satisfied eye about the yard. Already the templates had been fashioned and the first keel was being shaped. And all this in one morning. A glance at the stranded mermaid revealed all the chalk shape lines and strange numbers that the Yard-master and Mabina had drawn as they decided how best to extract the mermaid’s shape. The King walked up to the numbers and frowned as he turned to Mabina.
“These are the figures your sister spoke of, Magab the Nubian’s way of doing sums.”
“Yes your majesty.”
He then turned to the yard master.
“Are they useful numbers?”
“Not yet to me your majesty but the girl exercises a unique skill with them. I am minded to learn them. She garnered answers to problems that I would have had to take to Aeron the priest. He would have taken several hours or even as much as a day to complete this single sum with the Roman numbers.”
He tapped his huge bony knuckle on a complex sum that Mabina had just that morning solved by casually scribbling the numbers with chalk on the Mermaid’s newly scraped hull. All the shipwrights had stopped by to study the sum and wonder as Master Faahn continued.
“And she was quicker my lord king. Her figures are certainly a better way once you master her ways with the tricks of multiplication and division.”
“Is that the opinion of you all?” Appotel addressed the assembled shipwrights.
They replied as one with a resounding ‘yes’ as Appotel’s eyes fell benignly on Mabina’s self effacing smile. Then he turned again to Master Faahn.
“Can you spare her this afternoon?”
“For now my lord, yes. We have plenty to be going on with.”
Appotel turned to Mabina.
“Well young lady, not so much a sorceress as a mathematician. You’ve certainly impressed the ship builders and they are a skilled, secretive trade. Sadly we have further need of your skills for before we travel to Toledo, you will have to leave behind as many instructions as you can. Can I ask you and your brother to write down all you think necessary to build the first ship?”
“How long will we be away your majesty?”
“I don’t know. A moon perhaps, maybe a moon and a half. It depends upon the roads and how long it takes for you to be fitted for a bespoke sword. We’ll be travelling on horseback not by carriage so the journey will be swifter but less comfortable.”
“I’ve never ridden in a carriage your majesty so it’ll be no hardship to go by horseback. Besides, it’s no less uncomfortable than a sea voyage. Horseback is fine by us. The little girl Arina. I presume she’s skilled enough to ride now, is she?”
“Queen Bramana says she is coming as well, her family is from near Toledo. Her brother is a senior chieftain and her older sister is consort to king Pilus. They will be pleased to meet up. It’s journey well worth making for these Toledo weapons are fine tools.”
“A family get-together,” Mabina finished.
“Indeed young lady. It will be a joyous affair. Bramana’s sister has several daughters about your age and younger, plus sons a little older than you. King Pilus’s children of course.”
Mabina was always up for a party and she smiled inwardly. Boy’s, especially princes, were of great interest to her fourteen summers. Besides, it was an opportunity for more travel and more adventure. She agreed without further question and Appotel smiled with satisfaction. Mabina had been the last perceived obstacle. The journey was arranged for the next but one day and the twins would have their work cut out leaving instructions and plans for Yard-Master Faahn. That evening and the following day, Drustan and Mabina remembered and wrote down everything they could while Aiofe and Arina made preparations for the journey.
In which Drustan gets sucked into Politics and war.
The Angry Mermaid 10.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 9
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
King Appotel’s party set out on the first day of the newly formed Christian week that the king, a convert to the new single God from Jerusalem had ordained be the new calendar. The party were all mounted and progress was swift. They stopped at Appotel’s palace to collect his own daughters who would have been furious to be denied the right to visit their aunt Shaleen and their cousins. Four messengers had been sent ahead and Drustan had decided to join them. King Appotel indulged him for it was no use trying to prevent the head-strong boy. Technically there were no known parents to whom Appotel could be held responsible and if the boy had survived two battles already then he was obviously capable of defending himself. Mabina also wanted to go with her twin but Queen Bramana put a stop to that with the full support of Aiofe, Mabina’s older sister.
“You may mix with the men of the shipyard’s young lady but you’ll not embarrass King Appotel when he is a royal guest to another king. You’ll behave like all the rest of the noblewomen in this party, - with decorum and grace!”
Mabina sulked and fretted but eventually found some solace in the company of Appotel’s daughters, the four princesses. Aiofe scolded her.
“You’ll only be but four days behind the heralds, what is there to fret about?”
“It’s not fair! Drustan get’s all the adventure!”
“Yes and all the wounds. What if Blueface’s sword had cut you?”
Mabina shrugged and Maria the oldest princess came to comfort her.
“Why do you wish to travel rough with your brother? His bed is poor and the nights will be tough for him. Do you not like to travel in style; to dress in fine silks and beautiful gowns?”
“Well, - yes, - of course, but I also like to travel and play. To see new places and taste new foods. Think now, my twin is already half a day ahead and sharing a night under the stars with four warriors and tasting who knows what sorts of strange foods.”
“And who knows what dangers. You are precious young lady.”
“What d’you mean precious? Precious to who? Only to my sisters and my brother. There are no others to mourn us if we pass.”
“All people are precious. The lord God tells us we are precious.”
Mabina gave a shrug. ‘This new single God thing seemed very strange to her. How could one god, and a male god at that, be everywhere at once and looking after everybody at once? Men were hopeless at looking after more than one thing at a time. Every woman knew that!’
The Princess Maria eyed Mabina suspiciously.
“Do you not believe that the one God holds us precious, do you even believe in the one God?”
Mabina shrugged again.
“My Gods and Goddesses have looked after me so far. We have crossed oceans and fought battles and we are still here.”
“So you are an unbeliever! A heathen!”
Mabina shrugged again. Careful not to cause anymore upset. She had heard bad things about this new single God. His followers tended to kill people who chose not to follow him. She shrugged one more time and excused herself saying she had to attend to something in her pack. Maria squinted suspiciously and rode down the procession to the priest. There she spoke with him.
“Holy man. My father’s guests, the three Celtic girls. They are unbelievers.”
The priest made a note to check this out and speak to the king about it. For the present though, the procession was too busy to slowdown and stop. The King had a town to make that evening and that town marked the border between the Turdetani and the Capetani. His kingdom and King Pilus’s. When they finally reached the border town of Rodondo, the heralds had done their job. The town spanned a river marking the border and a single high bridge with fortified gateways marked the lowest safe crossing point. Below this town, crossings had to be made by ferry. Appotel cast a professional eye over the
fortifications. There were a few improvements that could be made but any sort of such repairs might invoke suspicion in King Pilus despite the fact they were married to sisters and currently enjoying an excellent peace. Appotel decided to pass over the bridge and overnight in King Pilus’s half of the town. This was to be a gesture of trust and good will and the town’s burgomasters welcomed him across the bridge. They made their lodgings in the towns meeting hall for the building had the best accommodations and it demonstrated that King Appotel trusted King Pilus’s peace.
The local chief came from his modest castle and met the king to extend the normal courtesies.
“Our Lord Pilus welcomes you your majesty and particularly his sister-in-law Queen Bramana.”
“Thank you Pedoro. Will you eat with us tonight?”
“Why yes sir. It will be an honour. I will bring extra victuals from my castle.”
The king nodded approvingly and Pedoro left to return quickly with several pack-loads of food plus his wife and his family; some four sons and a single daughter. The royal princesses quickly perked up at the news of young noble-men attending that evening’s meal. Mabina was too concerned with the whereabouts of Drustan to care and Aiofe was already betrothed and therefore out of the running. Pedoro hoped that the king might notice his sons and perhaps a fortuitous union might come of the meeting in the great hall.
On that same evening, Drustan and the four heralds arrived at King Pilus’s palace. They were shown to suitable quarters but the King’s newly appointed chancellor simply took the one letter of introduction and left the five of them to kick their heels overnight. It was to be the following morning before the heralds were to be presented to the king. Even at the brief preliminary interview Drustan could tell that King Pilus seemed preoccupied with something. The senior herald was invited to an inner sanctum whilst once again; the others had to wait outside in an antechamber fretting at the unexpected lack of a welcome.
“He’s not normally this uncharitable.” The second herald declared. “He and our king Appotel are bloody brothers in law for God’s sake! Their wives are sisters. Their marriages were supposed to seal the alliance.”
“I don’t like it here. The courtiers seem to be avoiding us. They were always friendly before.”
The remaining three heralds were now suspicious and they subconsciously gathered together to sit at a table with their backs to the wall and facing outwards. It was several minutes before they missed Drustan.
“Damn it! Where’s that bloody boy got to now.”
“He was here a minute ago. Which way did he go?”
“Blast! There must be half a dozen doors he could have gone through. Why doesn’t the bloody boy behave himself? I sense danger here!”
It was at this moment that a score of soldiers suddenly emerged from behind several curtains and wall drapes then fell upon the heralds. The nervous heralds made a ferocious fight of it but they were eventually overwhelmed. All three men were put to the sword. Eventually the chief herald was returned to the ante-chamber in chains where he was made to sit beside his murdered comrades. He cursed furiously.
“There was no need to murder them! What manner of treachery is this? What sort of a welcome is this?”
An unidentified voice with a North African accent replied.
“A suitable one for an enemy.”
“And who is this enemy. Kings Appotel and Pilus have been friends and allies since their alliance was forged with the marriage of the sisters.”
“King Pilus does not reign here anymore!”
The herald fell silent. There had obviously been some sort of Palace coup.
“So who does?” The herald demanded but his demand went unanswered.
Instead he was manhandled roughly away and lowered down a well into a black windowless subterranean cell that was carved out of the solid rock the castle stood on. As he cautiously felt into the dark his hands landed on another soul. A boy responded.
“Who are you?”
“I am Maguel, the chief herald of Appotel, King of the Turdetani.”
“Oh thank God! Does he come with an army?”
The herald knew enough not reveal any more information. He had no idea who was also listening in the pitch blackness.
“Who am I talking to?”
“Prince Pinipe, my father is Pilus the king.”
“Who else is in this cell?”
My mother, Queen Shaleen and my four sisters, the princesses.”
“Oh. Wherever you are your majesty, for I cannot see you, I pay my respects to you. What has happened?”
“There was a coup yesterday before dawn. We were taken in our beds.”
“Who organised it?”
“We don’t know.”
The chief herald sighed disgustedly. For a whole palace to have been taken without signs of a struggle there must have been considerable internal intrigue.
He remembered the Berber soldiers who had slain his comrades and the North African accent of the Berber man who had answered his question but that told him little except to confirm that outside agencies must have been at large and also infiltrated the palace. Not everybody on the Palace staff would have been disloyal. Maguel remembered the last visits of Appotel and his queen as happy occasions where the palace staff had been utterly loyal and devoted to King Pilus while the sister queens had savoured excellent companionship. Some other ploy had been used to take the palace but the bigger question exercised Maguel’s nimble mind.
That was; ‘how had the Berbers infiltrated right into central Iberia’?
He cast about for ideas and asked the family many questions but found little if any useful information from his royal cellmates.
So far he had realised that the palace had been taken by subterfuge and that the royal family were being held hostage, probably by only a few Berber soldiers but that would be all that it took. Maguel realised that there could not be many men at arms involved for no reports of any large force had been received by his own tribesmen or Turdetani and the Capetani townships he had galloped through. The Palace must have been taken by a supreme subterfuge. The way to take it back was by a more skilful and cunning subterfuge. The problem was how? He could not even escape from the pitch black hole he was stuck in!
Appotel’s herald and King Pilus’s family remained incarcerated in the pitch black cell.
At the same time Drustan, ever the distrustful one, had slinked away from the three other heralds and left the ante-chamber on the pretext of lavatorial needs. His confounded stomach gripes had returned and the cramp was almost incapacitating. Also the dammed wound made by Blue Face’s sword had begun to weep again. I was becoming a damned nuisance. He found a piece of reasonably clean cloth and stuffed it into the accursed wound to stem the flow.
When he had separated from the other heralds he had not been much missed. As an apparently harmless fourteen-year-old boy little attention was paid to him. He was alone in an external corridor returning to the antechamber when he heard the soldiers attack the three seated heralds.
Drustan was not stupid. He had realised all was not right when they had first been presented to the uneasy King Pilus.
From that first moment he had been on guard and the lavatory ploy had been a useful subterfuge to split away from the main threesome to force any searchers to divide their forces. It had worked for he had heard the fight in the antechamber and Maguel’s angry curse about the un-necessary murders. He had just managed to grab a lamp bracket, dowse the flame then haul himself up into the ceiling shadows as he watched Maguel being dragged blindfolded below him. He quickly realised that something was seriously wrong for when the Turdetani party had set out; King Appotel had not shown the slightest sign of any enmity between the kingdoms. Drustan immediately realised that if they were not welcome at the castle then he must warn King Appotel at all costs.
His first objective was to avoid capture and to do this he had to reconnoitre the castle, then find a way out. He had immediately decided that trying to rescue anybody would be folly. The castle was totally in the hands of whoever controlled the king and Drustan had no idea of the full situation. His job first was to get out of the castle and get word to Appotel.
If there was one thing Drustan had learned when deciding upon action it was that you had to have a plan, and for that you needed to know the lay of the land. He knew nothing of the castle layout so that was his first step. It would also perhaps help him locate any potential allies; castle staff like cooks or servants who might have been overlooked or forced to serve the new occupiers of the castle. Drustan was starting from the very bottom without a shred of information.
As a veteran of two battles though not yet fifteen, Drustan knew the odds of success were almost zero. He decided that as soon as he had enough information, he would escape the castle if he could. His most urgent task was warning King Appotel and his family.
For two days Drustan literally crawled from shadow to shadow in the gloomy bowels of the castle as he determined his options for escape. He went almost naked with only a longish dagger tucked tightly into his loincloth that carried the stains of the weeping wound in his crotch. To move around with swords, boots and all the accoutrements of combat would only make more noise and invite investigation. He saw servants being mistreated and beaten but had no chance of speaking to them.
He concluded though, that they would be potential helpers if push came to shove. He noted though that all the servants were women. The occupiers were taking no risks of any countermove so all men must have been removed. To this end, Drustan fashioned a false top in the style of a young girl to effect a possible disguise if he was seen. To his chagrin he noticed that his chest, which had started to itch again as it seemed to do every time Blueface’s wound bled, now showed two soft swellings. He angrily bound the top-cloth tight to hide the damned flesh.
Drustan could only wonder at what brutal end the men servants might have met.
On the fourth morning Drustan concluded he knew enough. The bleeding from the ‘wound’ had more or less stopped and his chest no longer itched. However, he was desperately hungry and there was no food to be found anywhere.
He now knew that the occupiers were of Berber Corsair origin though Drustan could only conjecture at how they had got so far into Iberia without detection. The Capetani royal family were alive in a subterranean dungeon and King Pilus was a puppet with his hands tied because his family was hostage. What worried Drustan was the situation outside the castle. Why had the Capetani townsfolk not come searching to discover why the castle and surrounding palace was closed to visitors? He had no answers to this but he resolved that night to escape. His escape opportunity came earlier than expected.
Deep in the bowels of the bedrock Drustan had located a narrow fissure in the laminated geology of the rock. He had been sneaking down to investigate the well as a way of escape when some soldiers had approached from behind. His natural response was to climb up to the ceiling and high up in the shadows he had found a shelf that was impossible to see from the floor of the passage. The passage had been hewn out of the bare rock and led down to a cave where the dungeons and well were located. As he scrambled bare-foot up onto a high ledge to avoid the soldiers he landed up on the tiny ledge and slipped down the back of it into a deep cleft. In the cleft he noticed a black void where the rock should have formed a sold barrier. He also noticed a warm draught of air wafting up.
A draught of air meant movement and that meant it must be coming from somewhere. The fact that it was warm meant it was coming from outside. The sun was still high for it was afternoon outside and the day still hot. This told Drustan that the air was from the outside. Where air came in, it might yet be possible for a youth to get out. Drustan immediately slithered forward on his bare belly. He was grateful that his belly had stopped cramping and his Blue-Face crotch wound had stopped weeping. It seemed to be coming a regular nuisance.
The fissure in the rock became narrower and after two bends, it swiftly became pitch black. The only indicators that Drustan had were the soft earth under his chest and belly and the warm draught of air. This became his only guide and he continued slithering forward until the fissure became too low.
“Damn!” He cursed to himself as he groped blindly but found the hole just too small.
Then he discovered that the floor was still earth and he squirmed backwards to make enough room to reach into his filthy loin cloth for his last remaining weapon, the dagger.
Wriggling forward again he started to stab at the compacted earth and quickly realised that the floor was just earth. Obviously when it rained, the soil had been washed down into this sump in the fissure and gathered there. This had perhaps been going on since before the castle was built. Whatever the cause, Drustan was ecstatic to learn that he could dig the compacted earth away. It took a lot of wriggling and squirming to drag the loose earth backwards to a wider part of the fissure but eventually he deepened the sump so that he could go forward again. He encountered no more sumps and he continued wriggling forward occasionally having to stop and rest after having squeezed through some particularly tight gaps. At once stage he became frightened as the fissure narrowed to frightening proportions but at the next bend he was relieved to encounter a small chamber where he could turn and even stand in a bent posture. ‘At least he had one escape point where he could turn around and go back!’ he concluded as he sat up and leaned against the cold rock whilst he recovered his breath and his composure. He sat for a while in total silent darkness as he rubbed his sore chest. The scratches from the rock seemed particularly painful on his sensitive chest and nipples. He rubbed them and cursed then he stopped as he thought he heard voices. He froze in fear for he had no idea where he was in relation to the castle’s structure as it sat on the solid rock massif. He knew he had originally gone downwards along the fissure and after the sump he had been forced to excavate, he had gone upwards progressively. However, he had no idea what overall direction he had gone for the fissure wasn’t a regular cleft in the rock strata and it had twisted and turned. If he emerged into daylight he would have not the slightest idea where he would be.
He stayed absolutely silent hardly daring to breath and then he heard the voices again but he had no idea from where they were coming. In the total darkness the chamber seemed to echo very slightly and this confused him. The voices seemed to whisper eerily around the space. Drustan could only creep around in total silence as he tried to locate the exact source.
The total darkness did not help at all and he bumped his head on several sharp protrusions as he lost patience and moved too quickly. Eventually he found the source to be a small hole in the floor of the chamber that seemed unusually smooth.
Cautiously he slipped his arm into the crevice and realised that the hole was smooth because any water gathering in the chamber had drained away to wherever the hole led. Satisfied with his find he lay still again waiting for the words to come filtering up the hole again. Eventually he heard some whispering but could not make out the words. This frustrated him because he was frightened to reveal himself to anybody for he could not tell if the voices belonged to friend or foe.
Defeated by the uncertainty he cursed his stupidity for not having somehow identified his entrance hole and he groped uncertainly as he tried to remember it’s shape from memory. The air turbulence in the chamber did not help until he finally located the fissure where the air entered though it now seemed slightly cooler. This had to be the route to the outside. He secured his precious dagger back in his dirt encrusted loin cloth and resumed squirming forward flat on his belly. Eventually he saw a tiny pinprick of light and his stomach gave a huge flip as relief surged through his whole being. Then the fissure widened and Drustan saw more pinpricks of light. He was shocked to realise they were the stars. He had been in the fissure for hours! He advanced cautiously until he realised he was in a cave high up the rocky massif. There was no way he could clamber down to the ground for the rock was smooth and the moonless night was little better than the pitch blackness of the tunnel. He would have to wait until daylight.
He sat for a while and started to shiver so he retreated back into the fissure that emerged at the back of the cave. Then hunger pangs and thirst overtook him again for he hadn’t eaten all the time he had been exploring the castle. The only source of food was back at the other end of the fissure inside the bowels of the castle so he decided to return and try to steal some food from the kitchens. He knew the risks but he hadn’t eaten properly for four days. A few meagre scraps recovered early on from a rubbish pile and what water he had found had been foul. His stomach was beginning to rebel and the hunger was gnawing at his entrails.
He had no idea of the time and he wished he had copied his sister Mabina’s interest in navigation. He might have garnished the time from the positions of the stars like she often did as she carried a constant mental map of the changing heavens in her head. Shrugging off his ignorance, he concluded if it was dark, he should be able to steal some food from somewhere. The cooks were asleep at night and the kitchens unmanned.
Girding his loins and securing his precious dagger, he returned to the fissure and squirmed back to the ‘half-way’ chamber. This time he gathered three stones and arranged them at the fissure’s location to identify the place more easily. Now that the night had cooled the air there was no draught to identify it. Having ensured his orientation he sat back to take a breather.
To his surprise and delight, the owners of the voices were now talking instead of whispering so Drustan listened at the hole. He immediately recognised Maguel the senior herald’s voice so he listened intently. He may not yet be able to help the people at the other end of the hole but at least he could garnish some information from their conversation. He knew that other people were being held prisoner for Maguel was discussing the situation with the other prisoners whom Drustan could not recognise until Maguel referred to a woman as ‘Your majesty’.
‘Shit!’ thought Drustan, ‘that must be the queen, - Queen Shaleen, Bramana’s sister! What the hell has happened?’ he wondered. ‘There must have been a coup!’
Having garnished enough information he stayed silent for he had no idea who else was in the dungeon, he resumed squirming back along the fissure until he finally emerged in the cleft above the passage leading down to the dungeons.
The castle was asleep and he soon found his way to the kitchens where a tiny night-light cast it’s feeble glow. Sadly there was no food left out and the larders were locked. The small nightlight enabled him to locate several more spare lamps in a store room and these were the first prizes that he squirreled back to the high, hidden cleft. Then he found a spare length of spit turning chain from the dog wheel that rotated the cooking spit and he took that. He also searched for paper to write a message to Maguel but he only found a piece of white cotton flour sack. Then he was overjoyed to locate a box of flint and tinder. He would be able to supply the prisoners with light by lowering a lamp down through the drain hole into the cell, provided the hole was wide enough for its whole length. Drustan was already alert to holes getting narrower. He was now getting severe hunger cramps but he was still stymied for food. The larders were locked and heavily bolted.
A noise outside the kitchens alerted him to danger. One of the servants was coming to light the kitchen fires before dawn had even shown a whisper of light. The light footfall suggested the visitor was female. Drustan melted back into the shadows alert to danger for if he could, he would talk to a kitchen maid. The girl entered and started lighting the lamps then she started laying the kindling. Drustan waited silently before making a move. The girl was sniffling and as he looked closer he noticed she had a huge bruise under her eye. Obviously the girl had been forced to do something she had not wanted to do and that meant he might just have found an ally. As she lit the kindling the flames illuminated her face and Drustan realised the extent of her injuries. The girl, for only a girl she was, had been brutally beaten.
Drustan restrained his anger. Though still very young, Drustan had seen plenty of violence in these last few summers what with battles and massacres. He was inured to women carrying injuries. Instead he stepped out from the shadows and wrapped his arm around her as he covered her mouth with his other filthy mud-stained hand. The girl was already too traumatised to react and she just fell slack in his arms. Drustan realised she was at the end of her tether what with beatings and only the god’s knew what else. He spoke softly.
“Don’t scream. I’m not here to harm you. When does the castle rise?”
The girl whimpered so Drustan slackened his grip on her mouth ready to slam it back if the girl drew breath to scream. Instead she gasped fearfully.”
“At the next hour, I’m down here to raise the fires. Who are you?”
“I know what you’re here for girl. I’ll ask the questions. Be brief with your answers. I need all the information I can get. I’m your friend but I can’t do much for you yet!”
“Who are you?” The girl asked again.
“Never mind my name what is yours?” Drustan menaced her with his dagger.
“I am Taan mistress; Taan the scullery maid.
Drustan cursed her.
“Damn you girl. I’m a boy! Can’t you see that?”
The girl gasped with fear that her mistake would cause more blows to rain down on her head.
“I, - I’m sorry, - I’m sorry sire, but in this light and with that top I, - I took you for a woman. I’m sorry! I’m sorry Sire.
In truth there was more reason for the scullery maid to have made such a mistake for as Drustan had dragged her hard against his chest she had felt the soft swellings against her neck. She had genuinely thought a maid had captured her. She whimpered nervously as she waited for another brutal blow to fall. Drustan saw her terror and sighed as he released her.
“I’m not going to harm you girl but your mistake annoyed me. I am your friend.”
“Then who are you sire?”
“It matters not but I need information.”
“Then I shall try to tell you sire.”
“Good the less you know of me the safer you are. I’ve left a bit of a mess here when I searched for food. I was starving. Clean it up to hide any evidence of my having been here. I will be back. How many soldiers hold the castle?
“We have to cook for thirty, the servants and the prisoners feed off the left-over’s.”
“Excellent information. How much food is left?”
“About a month of none perishable supplies. We have not had fresh meat for nearly six days the meat is going rancid in this summer heat. Sadly the larder is locked and the cook holds the keys.”
“Yes, I’ve already worked that out. That is excellent information. You’re brilliant girl! What of the water?”
“Don’t you know anything of this castle? It is impregnable; there is an endless supply of clean water from the well deep down in the rock It’s in the dungeon chambers.”
Drustan simply nodded. ‘If the servants didn’t know of the fissure then perhaps only the royal family did.’ He even doubted that they knew because the passage was too small for a full grown man. King Pilus was a large man and he would never have made it.
Another noise in the passage alerted the girl and she squeaked.
“That’s the bastard who did this to me. If you can, kill him.”
“Not yet girl. I have not enough resources or the strength for I am but a boy. This is going to take subterfuge and cunning. Now say nothing if he comes in here.”
He gave the girl a gentle kiss on the forehead, released her and slipped back into the shadows. The girl smiled gratefully then her smile slipped as the soldier entered the kitchen. Drustan watched as he swaggered up to her and grabbed her forcefully as he groped under her meagre gown. The girl didn’t even have a breech cloth to hide her modesty. This was too much for Drustan to countenance. He slipped his dagger out of his filthy loin cloth and crept up behind the pre-occupied brute. It was but one stab in exactly the right place to send the beast to oblivion. The girl started to scream but Drustan had already anticipated that reaction. Once again, her cry was stifled before her breath had left her lungs.
“Quiet! You stupid cow. He’s dead! Where can I hide his body?”
The girl simply wagged her head for she had no idea where to hide such a large corpse. Drustan’s eyes fell upon the fire which was now building into a large blaze before settling down into the hot embers that cooks so loved for their steady heat.
“I’ll burn him.”
The girl simply stared in horror as Drustan stripped the body, took a cleaver from the kitchen table and promptly butchered the corpse. He had seen his own companions butcher many a sheep and once a cow so he had some idea of how to quarter the carcass. In twenty minutes the man’s butchered body was being despatched to the flames as the girl simply watched, mesmerized with horror. As he looked up from his grizzly task the blood covered Drustan asked the girl.
“D’you want to put any of him in the pot so that his friends can eat him as a stew? It’s good meat and it would be a fitting end.”
The horrified girl simply worked her shocked jaws silently as she tried to mouth an answer. Drustan shrugged as he wiped his blood stained naked body and resumed reducing the body to the smallest pieces he could. As he chewed hungrily on some cooked meat from the corpse, he looked up at the paralysed girl.
“What are you looking at girl? I’m starving! I haven’t eaten properly for nearly five days! If you don’t want to eat any then let those who are hungry do so. Make yourself useful girl, add more fuel to the fire, and cook these bits of meat so that I can eat them later. Now, the bigger the flames, the faster we’ll get this burning over with. Make sure you burn the skull. That’s the biggest give-away!” He finished as he lined up many small pieces of human meat by the fire to cook them then he stuffed them into a bag to tide him over in case he saw no food for another five days. Tan was both disgusted and horrified but she studied the creature’s gaunt frame and realised she could count all his ribs and backbone.
The shocked girl finally bestirred herself and collected several large faggots as Drustan stoked the fire to raise the heat. Fortunately the smell of burning flesh went mainly up the great chimney and by the dawning hour, the body was consumed by the fire. They cleaned up the mess and Taan pulled out a side of almost rancid beef from the larder and threw it onto the flames to help hide whatever evidence there was of the ghastly incident. The smell of the rancid beef starting to burn helped to cover the lingering smell of burnt soldier. Drustan, still blood smeared and clad only in his blood stained loin-cloth, looked like some demon from hell! Then he carried away the burnt soldier’s uniform and sword to hide in the high cleft that had now become his hide-away cum store. He also carried the large gruesome bag of very fresh cooked meat that Taan the scullery maid chose not to ask about.
‘Was this awful gruesome bloodied creature some sort of cannibalistic demon from hell?’ She wondered. ‘Yet it had protected her from the beastly soldier and even shown her compassion! But the demon had shown the soldier no mercy!’
Taking care to wipe his hands and feet to leave no trail Drustan returned to his hide-away and commenced pushing things along the tunnel to the ‘half-way chamber’.
With every journey his scrabbling removed more soil and slowly the fissure got deeper. Each journey got easier. Eventually the cleft above the dungeon passage was clear of all material and Drustan carefully cleaned away all evidence of his having been there. He even used the rabbit’s trick of heaping up earth in the fissure to make it appear as a blocked cul-de-sac.
As the rest of the kitchen staff came down to the kitchen, Taan the scullery maid was cleaning up the last evidence. She had also thrown several more large pieces of rancid beef onto the flames to hide the smell of the burnt corpse. She explained to Esther the cook by lying that one of the soldiers had come down and made her do it because he told her that the sergeant believed the rancid meat was poisoning them. The stink of burning, rancid beef was overwhelming.
Drustan was now back in his ‘half-way’ chamber and chewing contentedly on a nice piece of the soldier’s cooked rump. In the dark he did not care that he was also licking the soldier’s blood off his own arms. Starvation had so reduced him to a cannibalistic animal state that it would not have worried him anyway. Had anybody suddenly illuminated him they would possibly died of fright to see a blood red demon seemingly sprung from the very bowels of hell. In the pitch darkness Drustan contemplated his next move. Then he listened carefully at the drain hole. Maguel was talking again to Queen Shaleen and this time Drustan could distinctly hear their words for the air was circulating again and the sounds carried better. The foul warm air from the prisoner’s bodies was rising up the drain hole. Drustan listened as the up-draught carried the prisoner’s words.
“If we don’t get some fresh food soon I’m worried for the children.”
“I have asked the jailers several times but they ignore my pleas,” Cried Queen Shaleen. “What sort of monsters would starve children to death?”
Drustan smiled. Here he could help. He concluded only the herald and the royal family were in that particular dungeon so he took a risk. As the prisoners talked he lit one of the lamps. The tiny flame seemed like a blazing torch and dazzled him for several seconds before he could recover his composure. The talking from the hole stopped immediately as Maguel and Queen Shaleen noticed the feeble glimmer emanating from the hole in the dungeon ceiling.
“What’s that!?” She gasped as she and Maguel stood to peer up the hole.
“It’s a light of some sort.” Maguel replied. “There seems to be some sort of hole up there.”
“But where’s it coming from? Apart from the entrance slab, this dungeon is carved out of solid rock!”
“Well it’s not as solid as you would think my lady. Hisst now, something’s coming down the hole!”
“What! What is it?”
“I’m not sure my lady, it seems to be a light, but how can that be? Are you sure it’s solid rock?”
“Yes!” I know the layout of my own castle for God’s sake!”
Even as she uttered these words, events contradicted her. A tiny feeble ‘night-light’ emerged from the ceiling hole dangling on the end of a kitchen, cooking wheel chain. To the prisoners accustomed to pitch blackness, it seemed that suddenly the dungeon was bathed in brilliant light!
Being young, Prince Pinipe was the first to recover and as his eyes rapidly became accustomed to the ‘glare’. He climbed on Maguel’s shoulders then reached up to the light and tried to pull it lower. Drustan felt the tug and nearly lost his grip on the chain. He cursed whoever had tugged the line and his angry, distorted voice carried readily down the hole.
“Dammit you stupid bastard don’t pull the bloody chain out of my hands. Untie the fucking lamp!”
“Sorry!” Pinipe called back before Maguel silenced him with a desperate whisper.
“Silence you fool! Others may be listening! You’ve no idea who it is up there!”
Suitably chastened, Pinipe carefully detached the tiny lamp and set it on a cleft cut into the bare rock. He looked around grateful at last to able to see his mother and his siblings plus Maguel. Everybody except Maguel stepped forward to savour the light’s feeble but comforting glow. Maguel had heard the chain rattling back up the hole so he stood expectantly below it and he was not disappointed. A small linen bag came down and it contained some bread and cooked meat. The smell sent the children wild and they lurched forward to grab a share. Maguel indulged them and he helped Queen Shaleen divide the meagre food amongst her precious children as the chain disappeared back up the hole.
“There isn’t much is there?” She lamented.
“It’s only a small hole, wait he’s sending something else.”
“It’s more food!” Pinipe cried.
And it was. A long narrow sausage of linen appeared and the prisoners realised the first little bag had been a test. Gratefully they seized the bag and this time ate with a little more decorum. The chain disappeared again and the last article was a blood stained linen bag. The only writing materials Drustan had was his own blood and another linen sack. He had fingered some blood off his sticky ‘Blueface’ wound then written on the sack in blood with his finger.
Eagerly the prisoners read his message.
I am Drustan. Is that Maguel?
Maguel immediately had Queen Shaleen and her only son Pinipe lift him up to the hole and he whispered as loudly as he dared.
“Yes!” It’s Maguel and King Pilus’s queen and children. They are prisoners being held hostage.”
Maguel sagged with relief as Drustan’s familiar boyish voice came whispering back.
“I’m sending down more food and some flints and tapers to relight the lamp. I’m also sending down two more lamps. I only need one to find my way out of here.”
“Where are you?” Maguel begged.
“I daren’t say. The less you know the better for now. I’ll be back later.”
“With these words the promised items came rattling down the hole and Drustan left the little chamber as he crawled towards the exit cave. Finally in the dawn’s light he could assess his situation. It wasn’t perfect.
The cave was set high up in the castle’s rocky buttress and it was an impossible descent to safe ground. Drustan needed a rope but all he had was the short length of chain.
From the ground, it was impossible to discern the cave for its entrance lay offset under a massive overhang that blocked off all sight of any openings in the rock. Drustan was safe for now but to get down he would need a longish rope. That meant another return into the bowels of the castle and another day’s delay for it was too dangerous to move around by daylight. King Appotel and his party would be arriving soon and he couldn’t warn them in time.
With his heart heavy with frustration, he started back into the fissure. As he arrived at the ‘half-way’ chamber, he decided not to speak to the prisoners down the hole. He had nothing useful to impart and it would just be time wasted. As he got the measure of the fissure, each passage along it became easier; he soon arrived at the deep cleft above the dungeon passage. There he decided to forego the ‘Rabbit door’ of earth and he left the passage unblocked. The warm airflow from the hot exterior was comforting.
Cautiously he waited. The passage down to the dungeons was not a busy one but there was no need to take stupid risks. Drustan had long since located all the useful little hidey-holes where a fourteen-year-old youth could secret himself during the dark of the night but by day it was impossible to hide. He just lay recovering his breath as he decided what to do. Until the evening meal was complete there was a serious chance of meeting some unexpected challenge if he simply sauntered up the passage to the kitchens on the next level up. He desperately needed to find a rope but he had no idea where to get one. He would have to speak to the Taan, the scullery maid again; something he was loath to do for it might raise her hopes too high.
For want of anything better to do until it was dark he dragged the dead soldier’s tunic back into the fissure, found some soft earth and went to sleep. The warm draught of air was beginning to move as the day warmed up outside. The exhausted boy soon fell into a deep sleep.
He awoke in mid afternoon. A quiet period when meals were not being prepared and most of the occupying soldiers were taking their ease. The castle was deemed virtually impregnable so few guards had been posted except at the most necessary locations. Drustan decided it was safe to go looking for the scullery maid. He was not surprised to find her sleeping on a crude straw mat under the main kitchen table. It was her job to make sure the fires did not go out during the quiet of the afternoon. The girl was virtually in bondage to the kitchen and it’s fires, especially now that most of the men had been executed.
Cautiously Drustan shook her shoulder and she stirred fearfully muttering ‘Don’t hit me’ even as she came to her senses. For a moment her eyes widened with terror as she beheld the bloodied, mud-stained apparition looming over her. Drustan was about to cover her scream when recognition lit her eyes and she gasped with relief.
“It’s you again. Who are you? Where do you come from? Are you the demon from hell?”
“I’ve told you before! Don’t ask me anything. It will only endanger your life and the lives of others. Remember I’m human just like you and I can make mistakes. Just pretend I don’t exist.”
“But you do! You do exist. You killed the soldier who, - Can you take me with you? “
Her voice faltered as she recalled the brute’s crimes against her. Drustan had no time for gratitude or beseechments to take her with him.
“I need a rope. Where can I find a rope?”
The girl’s eyes widened with hope.
“If I get you a rope, take me with you.”
“Listen you stupid bitch. I have no time for games. I am one against many. I desperately need a rope. When I return; if I return; you will get your freedom, but not now. I am too weak to take the castle alone. I need a rope, for the God’s sakes girl a bloody rope. You tried to bargain your escape for a rope, so you must know of one. Tell me or I’ll kill you!”
“Will you promise to free me?” She asked ignoring his threat.
“Of course I will, I will free the whole bloody castle if I can just have a bloody rope. Where the hell is there a rope! Damn and blast you!!”
He drew his dagger and seized the girl roughly to reinforce his threat; Taan burst into hysterics as he laid the blade against her throat then she choked out the words and pointed to a closed door as he choked her windpipe and sensibility started to leave her. He released her throat and she found her voice as it came in raucous croaks.
“It’s down those steps. That’s the stairs from the Kitchen to the well. It leads to the dungeon chamber like a back stairs.
There is a spare rope for the bucket behind that door as you enter the dungeon area.” Then she passed out.
Drustan gave a grateful curse and flung the girl to the floor. He found what he was looking for, coiled the rope around his shoulders, grabbed one of the iron spit poles used to pierce the sides of beef for turning over the flames and finally snatched some more food off the table. Taan recovered her composure and rubbed her bruised throat. Drustan had not been gentle in his desperation. He turned to her as she looked at him angrily.
“Sorry if I hurt you. Need’s must sometimes. I’ll be back, don’t run away!”
Before Taan could respond, he was gone again. She staggered to the door, for in his desperation Drustan had hurt the girl’s neck. By the time she reached the corridor, the dreadful apparition was gone, vanished like the spirit he seemed to be. She felt her sore neck and frowned ruefully.
‘At least the apparition had not attacked her or beaten her; he seemed more desperate than dangerous.’
Taan decided that the apparition might yet still be on her side but it obviously had other fish to fry. For want of anything else to do, she placed some more faggots on the fire and returned to her straw palliace under the table. Drustan had returned to the safety of his secret fissure in the rock and immediately set about dragging the rope, the iron spit pole and the burnt soldier’s sword all the way to the outer cave. In the ‘half-way' chamber, he lowered some of the food down to the prisoners but did not waste time exchanging words. There was much to do and little time to do it. He found a secure anchor point for the iron bar then secured the rope and flung it over the cliff. He looked down and tensed. The thick pale flaxen rope was as visible as a flash of lightening against the dark rock. He could not let it stand out like that. Quickly he cast around and found the perfect alternative.
There was a bush half way down the cliff and the spit chain could just reach it. The dark iron chain would be almost invisible against the dark rock. Below the bush there were grassy tufts and assorted features that would serve to hide the rope. As an extra precaution he smeared the rope with more mud from the cave floor. Next, he re-secured the chain to the iron anchor bar, fixed it to the rope and carefully dangled the arrangement behind the bush.
His relief was manifested by a long sigh as he completed his plan. It now remained to clamber down the rope and find King Appotel. In the evening ‘half-light’ he descended unseen, hid the tail of the rope then scuttled away towards the town as darkness fell. The night proved to be a double edged weapon. Nobody noticed his almost naked, bloody, mud-stained satanic appearance but conversely he had trouble finding his way in the strange place and no hope of locating King Appotel. Eventually he managed to find a stream and wash himself. The freezing water both chilled him but revived him and he was finally able to approach a passing citizen.
“Where is the road to Toledo?” He begged.
The woman tensed but showed the beggar boy the direction and she sagged with relief as the boy dashed away with no more ado.
At the town gate he spoke to the city guard who was just about to close the gates for the night.
“Has King Appotel passed this way?” Drustan asked.
“What business is it of yours beggar boy?” Demanded the guard.
“Listen you fool. Your own king is in grave danger. Has King Appotel been through these gates yet?”
“Tell me who was with him and that will confirm your interest.”
Drustan cursed and reeled off the names in the king’s visiting party until the guard finally nodded.
“So you seem to know their names. Yes, they passed this way up to the palace this past noon. They’ll be guests of King Pilus by now.”
“Damnation, it’s too bloody late. They’ll be prisoners by now, just as your own king is and his family. Send one of your own guards to check if you don’t believe me.”
The guard frowned again. There had been some concern in the town that the palace had been closed to visitors for several days but the whisper of a royal visitor had explained the secrecy.
“What do you know of this boy?” The guard demanded. “Speak or I’ll cut your guts out!”
Before the guard had realised it, Drustan’s sword flashed from its hiding place behind his back and it was resting point first against the guard’s throat.
“You’ll not cut this boy’s guts out old man. Now let me pass out of this town for I have work to do. If you want to do something useful go and check properly on the palace. It’s been taken I tell you. The inner castle is invested with Berber infiltrators. King Pilus is taken hostage and I’ll wager King Appotel has joined him. I’ll be back on the morrow!”
The guard was too shocked to stop Drustan and he slipped out of the town gates even as the rumours about the palace were being investigated. Drustan needed help but it had to be the right sort of help.
His first task was to find a horse. His own had been locked in the castle and was probably being prepared for butchery as food in the castle became yet scarcer. He was forced to steal one for nobody would consider ‘lending’ a precious mount to a seemingly scruffy beggar boy. He located a horse on a farm by the roadside and after carefully leading it some distance in silence he finally mounted it bareback, just like his earliest childhood days with the wild Welsh mountain ponies. The ride was uncomfortable for the horse was not well fed and had been worked to the plough as well as being used by the farmer for the occasional visit to the market. The animal was hard and bony but wiry and tough. Drustan mused ruefully as his own fleshless, bony arse grated against the nag’s bony spine. His ‘Blueface’ wound was being rubbed raw.
‘It was going to be a sore ride but a durable one. The animal would reach the border and Lord Pedoro’s chiefdom.’
He had chosen to make for Pedoro’s border township because Pedoro would remember him as the King’s herald’s companion and besides Lord Pedoro had four sons with some knowledge of arms having been raised as noblemen.
Pedoro’s youngest son was still small enough to wriggle through the fissure and Drustan hoped he would have courage enough to assist him inside the castle. For Drustan the vital factor was subterfuge and secrecy. The rocky buttress were the cave was hidden high up the cliff was deemed the most inaccessible part of the castle’s defences and few if any of the towns guards would be watching that area. They would be holding the normal approaches in their siege of the castle. For by now, the Capetani people would be alert to their king and royal family having been somehow captured and held to ransom.
As to the fate of his sisters and King Appotel’s family, Drustan could only wonder and worry. Time was vital!
After a day and a half’s hard riding, he reached the Border town of Rodondo in the dead of night and hammered loudly on the Lord Pedoro’s castle gates. A sleepy guard answered angrily.
“Who the hell comes calling at such a late hour?”
“I am Drustan, son of Caderyn, son of Erin of the Gangani. I am Appotel’s herald and I will speak with your lord Pedoro.” Drustan answered boldly with all the strength he could muster for he was in truth exhausted after a day and a half’s hard riding.
“Wait there beggar boy. Lord Pedoro is sleeping.”
“Of course he is!” Drustan snapped back. “Only fools like you and I are awake at this unearthly hour. Now rouse your master! I have urgent and vital news. And ignore these rags. I have been hard done by but I still have my sword!”
Drustan made a few skilful passes with his sword and the guard recognised that the boy at least had some military training. He called down to a companion to go and get Lord Pedoro. Drustan waited fretfully outside the gate until a familiar face appeared on the battlement.
“You say you are Drustan.”
“Yes my lord. I met you when King Appotel’s heralds passed this way.”
“Oh yes, I remember now; the boy with the rough manners and rude nature.”
“Yes all of that sir but the news I have is vital and you must know of it!”
Lord Pedoro signalled to the guards as he instructed Drustan to disarm. Drustan reluctantly slipped the sword out of the ragged shoulder scabbard he had fashioned out of rough homespun cloth then he stabbed it into the earth as he dismounted. He also removed his beloved hidden dagger from its concealment in his loincloth to demonstrate his integrity and legitimacy. Pedoro noted the boy’s act and nodded approvingly.
The gates opened and several swordsmen advanced to meet him as Pedoro called down.
“We never take chances boy; this is a border guard town after all.”
“Very wise,” Drustan called back as he dismounted and then staggered with exhaustion against his equally exhausted horse.
By the time the guards had advanced, Drustan had collapsed. They circled him cautiously as Pedoro called down to them.
“Check the cheek of his right arse. If he’s got a scar that almost gives him three butt cheeks then it is the boy. King Appotel regaled me with some wonderful tales about the kid. The son he wishes he had apparently.”
The guard captain rolled Drustan over onto his belly, easily peeled back the skimpy rag that gave the unconscious Drustan what little modesty he had and laughingly confirmed Lord Pedoro’s observations.
“Yes sir. By God it’s a fine scar and on one so young.”
“Then that’s the boy. Check for any more hidden weapons then bring him and his weapons to my chamber.
In Pedoro’s private chamber, Drustan was laid out on a low couch as Pedoro instructed his guard captain to remain with two men at arms as guards and witnesses. Drustan was out for the count, but his very being there alerted Lord Pedoro to some unknown danger. Pedoro was no fool and totally loyal to King Pilus. He immediately started preparations to strengthen the town and put the whole citizenry on alert. At the earliest break of dawn he summoned the town’s burgomasters. It was then that Drustan finally came to and the guard captain alerted his chief.
As Pedoro and his council sat around the couch, Drustan haltingly related events at the castle as Pedoro’s wife, The Lady Shulaar fed the boy intermittently with broth between statements. Drustan ate it greedily and begged for more. She produced another large bowl-full in short order.
“Thank you my lady. This is the first food I have eaten since escaping the castle.”
Pedoro’s eyes widened at this news of the boy’s escape. He spoke immediately.
“And that my boy is the first serious question I have to ask you. How did you escape such an impregnable fortress?”
Drustan faltered; to reveal the existence of the fissure would reveal the castle’s weaknesses. He hesitated uncertainly then motioned to whisper in Pedoro’s ear.
“I would speak with you sir, alone. I have discovered secrets about that castle that must not be broadcast abroad.”
Pedoro nodded wisely and had the boy stripped naked to check for hidden weapons again before instructing him to join him in his wife’s bed-chamber, for this was the nearest private room. As Drustan self-consciously covered his genitals, all eyes were more fascinated by the huge angry crimson scar on his right arse. Even the Lady Shulaar’s eyes fell to studying it for she had four fine sons and had seen plenty of bare-arsed boys. She smiled and turned to the Captain of the guard as her husband Pedoro accompanied the naked youth into her private chamber.
“Well Captain, no better badge of Identity will you or I ever see than that boy’s arse.”
The captain nodded and replied ‘yes’ with no small embarrassment at the Chieftain’s wife having been present when the boy was made naked. She smiled and nodded.
“Don’t worry captain. I’ve got four sons of my own, I’ve seen plenty enough not to be embarrassed. Though I must confess, for a boy who has seen so much of war and fighting, he has an unseemly girlish chest. Did you see those, - well, I would have to call them breasts?””
Lady Shulaar and the captain chuckled as the door to her chamber closed and Pedoro followed Drustan into the chamber. There he fell to questioning the boy in private.
“So lad, what is this secret that no other must know?” The King asked as his eyes fell to the naked boy’s chest and seemingly incongruent cock.
“It’s the castle sir. It’s not impregnable.” Drustan replied trying to ignore the king’s fascinated gaze.
Pedoro’s jaw dropped.
“What! How so? Is that how it was taken?”
“No sir. That was done by subterfuge. A slave dealer brought a large coffle of captured slaves to the castle but they were not what they seemed. They were men at arms and King Pilus put them in a cell for the night to prepare a market the following day. In the night, the guard was overwhelmed by the ‘slave-master’ and the castle’s defences were breached. They have only thirty or forty men holding the castle but that is enough for the king’s family is held hostage and the king is their prisoner, all inside the castle."
“So what is their objective, the invaders that is?”
“I don’t know sir. It was all I could do to stay hidden and garnish these logistical facts. As to conjecture about anybody’s plans I know nothing. Who could I speak with that might know?”
Pedoro nodded wisely then returned to the other issue, Drustan’s escape.
“So, this other secret, your escape, the castle is not impregnable you say.”
“No sir, it can be entered but only by boys, - or girls,-. There is a tiny fissure in the rock but only a boy my size can pass through it, or a very small man. It is very long and very narrow, see my belly and back. The scratches and cuts are from the floor and roof. The rock is sharp.
“Yes. I wondered where you got those, and those, - those things on your chest. My God! You’re a strange-un and no mistake.”
Drustan glared at the king and fingered his sensitive swellings self-consciously. Then he shrugged and went on to describe the passage at length until Pedoro had all the information he needed. Pedoro stood and looked down at the careworn emaciated body lying on his wife’s own private bed and decided to leave him there in the care of his good lady. As he rose to leave, he spoke to the boy.
“You realise Drustan, I have to confirm this. But I am not wasting time. As you sleep I will be mustering my forces to deal as best we see fit. I am the king’s second-in-command.”
The boy nodded gratefully as a tear leaked into his eye.
“There’s one last thing sir. It’s my sisters. You know they were with King Appotel’s party.
The Town guards told me they all entered the castle. If you get any news please waken me.”
“I will boy. Go to sleep for now. That’s what you’ll need for the tasks ahead.”
Pedoro left the chamber and motioned to his wife and daughter Shenoa.
“Clean him up then let him sleep, I’ve much to do and I’ll be needing him. And for God’s sake get something to cover up that chest, it’s weird. He resembles a young maid!”
Lady Shulaar frowned and tutted as she debated what to do as her husband left to attend to preparations.
He then addressed the town council as they commenced a plan of action.
Confirmation of Drustans story was not long coming. Four galloping messengers arrived with urgent news just after high noon and Lord Pedoro frowned. Everything the boy had told them was true but Pedoro would let the boy sleep until the dinner hour.
His wife Lady Shulaar joined him at lunch with the council and expressed her concerns for the boy.
“He’s half starved my dear Peddy. He’ll need fattening up.”
“We’ll not have much time for that my dear lady. We leave on the morrow at dawn.”
“Then if you must, give him a good mount and some decent clothes.” Shulaar demanded. “His arse bones are red raw after riding that bony nag all the way here, night and day, non-stop and bare-backed.”
“And weapons my dear wife, we must return his weapons for the boy is a hardened soldier. You heard Appotel’s telling of the death of Blueface. That man was the scourge of the north.”
His wife smiled as she took the boy’s precious dagger and fingered it in front of her husband.
“Is this the same dagger he killed that pirate Blueface with?”
“Yes my lady, truly a weapon with provenance.”
“Yes, but such a plain thing. No jewel encrusted handle, no fancy hilt or decorated scrollwork, just a plain steel blade and handle all fashioned from one piece of metal, and with hardly a hilt to keep one’s grip of it. It’s more like a common kitchen knife than a soldier’s weapon.”
“Aye, but grip enough to emasculate then disembowel one of the most evil men on this world. The boy did well.”
“And that scar on his arm; that was the Berber attack?”
“Yes my dear lady. As I said, the boy’s battle hardened.”
“And yet he has skin as soft as a maid’s not to mention that chest. He could be mistaken for a maid!”
“Well, he’s a proven fighter and he has information that I cannot do without. He has to come with us!”
“Will our sons ever face such hardships I wonder?” She shuddered.
“The two middle ones might. Ferdie and Sular will be accompanying me to help the king. Our eldest son Isaar will remain here with you and the captain of the guard to organise defence if there is an attack from the south or maybe even the west. The heralds from the capitol main thinking is that Pilus’s cousin in the west has got something planned ever since the treaty of the Olive groves. He believes he was cheated of the fertile lands between the Odil and Tinto rivers.”
“So only my youngest, Gontala will remain with me.” Shulaar lamented.
“Hopefully my lady. He is but eleven summers and hardly ready to fight.”
“Queen Bramana told me that’s what they said about Drustan.” Shulaar replied.
Pedoro nodded agreement.
“Drustan will be the first to tell you, he was very frightened, and very lucky. King Appotel told me that. The boy’s already got an old man’s head on a youth’s shoulders. Too old by Appotel’s reckoning. The boy’s a distrustful cynic. I’m looking forward to talking with him as we march north.” Pedoro said this for the benefit of any unfriendly ears at the council table.
At dinner, Drustan was made to sit by Pedoro’s pretty daughter Shenoa whilst the three older sons were arranged opposite him and the youngest boy Gontala sat below his older sister. Pedoro and his wife Lady Shulaar sat together at the top of the table. Drustan cast a cautious eye about the table and surmised it was the most tactful arrangement. He had no objections to sitting on the distaff side particularly as he would have female company either side. Other council members and the captains of the guards took the other seats.
Drustan talked little as the food was served for he was still hungry. The boys were disappointed for they had hoped of tales of derring-do but the women were relieved. Here for once was a man; nay a boy, - a youth who did not boast or monopolise the conversation.
Most of the time, Drustan asked Pedoro of his plans but the wily lord kept his counsel. The less that others knew, the safer the enterprise.
“We can discuss that when we are on the march, young man. We have much to exchange.”
“I wish I was going,” Gontala the youngest boy bleated.
Drustan glanced around Shenoa’s pretty countenance and spoke to her youngest brother Gontala.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven. Just as you where when you killed Blueface.”
“No. I was older than that, I was nearly thirteen. That’s how stories get blown up. I was twelve when my village was burned and my family mostly murdered. At eleven, all I did was sail boats around my people’s sea. I sailed boats and watched Blueface spreading murder and terror the length and breadth of North and West Britain.”
“But you did kill him.”
“Now you’re embarrassing me Gontala. Let’s not frighten your sister. Just remember this; I was a very lucky, lucky boy!”
At this Gontala’s mother came to Drustan’s rescue.
“Tell us of this magical ship you built. Appotel was all about it when he passed through.”
Drustan smiled his relief and thanks. Talking of his beloved Angry Mermaid was a much pleasanter task.
“Oh she’s a fine craft my lady. Swift and agile and the measure of any Corsair, Berber pirate. She was a child of necessity. The Vikings, the Norsemen that is, were already spreading their murder and mayhem. Viking ships are every bit as fast and deadly as anything the Corsairs can build. I built my ship as my test piece for my father’s approval and acceptance into the guild. Everybody laughed when I presented her for trials but I was the chief’s youngest son so the whole clan indulged me. The laughter soon changed when The Mermaid showed her paces. My ideas were proved right but I never had a chance to gain by it. I was returning home in her with my twin sister Mabina and we found the Norse pirates sacking my village. My older sister Aiofe had already been taken captive as a slave but the ship that had her as a prize thought they had an even finer prize if they captured my speedy little boat. When they spotted us coming home, they chased Mabina and me through waters we knew better than they.
The greedy fools followed were big Viking longships could not go. They struck a rock and sank quickly in the ferocious tides. All the heavily armed soldiers went down with their ship because they had been celebrating with stolen beer and they were still wearing their armour. Only my sister Aiofe escaped in her flimsy nightgown. It didn’t drag her down with her captors. All our family are good swimmers, we were raised beside the sea and lived amongst the boats we built. Mabina and I rescued our older sister from the swirling currents and then we just steered south to escape.
As I said earlier, we were lucky. My beloved Mermaid has saved our bacon on a few occasions and nearly always more by luck than judgement.”
Shenoa smiled at her mother Lady Shulaar. At last, she had drawn the taciturn visitor out of his shell and got him to talk about something interesting. Shenoa admired her mother’s skills whilst Pedoro gave his wife’s hand an affectionate squeeze. Drustan was no longer digging for information about battle plans in front of other diners that Pedoro wasn’t certain he could trust. With the king held hostage in his own castle by traitors from within, Pedoro did not know who to trust.
His wonderful wife had finally found Drustan’s weak point, - his love for his magical boat. By asking a few cleverly worded questions, the good lady kept Drustan talking at length while the four sons listened enraptured. The meal was finally deemed a great success. Diners had been entertained whilst nothing of Pedoro’s plans had been revealed at the table. After the meal, Drustan, Pedoro and the senior captain of the guard discussed and laid plans of attack. The very idea that they could effect secret entry into the castle, if only with children, - gave Pedoro and the Captain serious hope. The problem was which children. Pedoro’s older sons were already nearly grown men and the only small boy with any sword skills was his youngest son Gontala. His youngest son Gontala would have to be used for the secret incursion. Reluctantly Pedoro broke the news to his wife. She was not best pleased.
In the morning, a refreshed Drustan met Lord Pedoro in his castle courtyard as the first contingent prepared to dash straight for the king’s castle. The older son Isaar was despondent that he was not accompanying them but had to recognise his father’s concerns for the town’s main responsibility to protect the border bridge and crossing. Isaar now had a town to guard and with meagre forces at his disposal his was a difficult task. It was an onerous duty for a lad of only twenty years.
The middle sons Ferdie and Sular were already mounted and the vanguard detachment was ready to leave with Lord Pedoro at its head. There was no tactical military reason to this save one. As Lord Marshal of the Southern borders, Pedoro was the senior chief and his counsel would have weight at any conferences concerning the rescue of the king.
The middle boys turned curiously to Drustan and asked.
“Do you not accompany us Drustan?”
“Not yet sirs, your father and I have separate strategies and I must tarry awhile. There are tactics to be addressed. I will meet you in a couple of days when the main troop meets again at the king’s castle.”
With this said for all ears to hear, Drustan saluted Lord Pedoro with an assurance to help the Senior Captain of the guard carry out the other parts of their plan. As Pedoro made his goodbyes Drustan joined the lady Shulaar and her daughter Shenoa and her youngest son Gontala on the steps as the vanguard troop stepped out. Once clear of the town walls, Drustan watched the dust cloud rising as the troop broke into a brisk trot. He then turned to lady Shulaar.
“Well my dear lady, now for part two.”
Lady Shulaar frowned for this was a part she was seriously concerned about. Drustan and Pedoro’s plan put all her beloved children at risk, even her beautiful daughter Shenoa.
“This had better work Drustan. It’s bad enough that my youngest son, only just eleven summers, is to be drawn into the fight but if harm befalls my only daughter I will come hunting you to your grave.”
“I’m afraid my lady that they are the only ones small enough to follow me through the fissure. Your older sons have grown too large to squeeze through. Your daughter will readily pass for a serving girl and I intend to exploit her beauty. Hopefully there will be no sword play, at least not around your little heroine. Her part in the plan is pure subterfuge.”
“And your part in the plan?” Shulaar demanded knowingly.
“There will be risk. I won’t deny it. I will have to kill and your youngest son Gontala may well see the act. I’m hoping not but it depends on where and when and how far we get into the castle’s defences before we are challenged and I have to act.
“We hope to effect an entry into the castle by one of the lesser gates. Only Pedoro and I know which one. Even the Captain of the guard refused to learn of it. He says if he doesn’t know he cannot reveal it if he’s captured. His part is the most dangerous, but he’s a man at arms and accepts his duty.”
This last statement was a lie; the captain of the guard would have very little to do except serve as a decoy but once again, the lie was broadcast for any disloyal ears.
Lady Shulaar drew a deep breath. The idea of even her youngest children being drawn into combat did not endear her to this wild youth. Then she reflected ruefully however that combat came with the territory if your husband enjoyed the title of Lord Marshal of the southern borders. When darkness fell, Lady Shulaar’s heart missed several beats as she watched her last remaining children slip silently out of the town and set off noiselessly along the road with muffled hooves until they were well out of earshot. Once clear of the town, the new waxing moon now gave them a glimmer of light and they set off at an easy trot.
Drustan was truly glad to be sitting in a saddle for the return journey. His arse was still sore from the bony nag he had ridden bareback and his scar was beginning to ache.
Their mounts were good animals and well fed so they made excellent speed. Dawn found them half way and by the evening they had slipped past their own father. Shenoa and Gontala both wondered why they had not revealed themselves to their own father but Drustan explained the need for subterfuge and secrecy. Lord Pedoro had no idea who might be in league with the enemies presumed to lie to the west. The less others knew of the disposition of Pedoro’s forces the better their chances of success. Only Drustan knew Lord Pedoro’s plan for it was his contribution that had made it viable. It all hinged on Drustan managing to open the Eastern Postern gate by guile and deception. This was the most lightly guarded gate for its approach was a steep rocky path impassable to horses. Any attackers had to approach on foot and run a gauntlet of the battlements high up on the Curtain Wall.
Because this gate was so difficult to attack it was the most lightly defended. Just five men of the forty occupiers of the castle. In ordinary circumstances, five men would have fended off a modest attack. Twenty men would have defended from an army.
In the dead of night after the moon had set, Drustan and his two comrades cast off their finery and changed into the servant’s rags that would be their disguise inside the castle. To please the pair, Drustan let them carry daggers and he was later to be thankful for that indulgence. He also gave them each a long rope if needed at the cliff.
They blackened their bodies with mud and slipped towards the castle at the foot of the high cliff that doubled as the castle’s defences and the town’s. At this point, both town and palace were impregnable to the uninitiated. Fifty feet of sheer, smooth, weather worn granite gave neither foothold nor handhold after the first hundred feet of occasional shrubs and bushes. Any attacker ignorant of the little cave secreted invisibly at the impossible overhang would have seen no reason to take the risk and never have scaled the overhanging outcrop that comprised the last pitch of rock to the cave. Drustan and his companions finally arrived at the foot of the towering cliff and he was relieved to find the rope still there. He had dirtied it and covered it with sods of grass and shrubbery to hide it and his efforts had proved successful. From below, the chain at the entrance to the cave resembled nothing more than a watery dribble whilst below, the tail of the rope had been cunningly coiled up behind a large dense bush. Shenoa and Gontala grinned as Drustan revealed his secret then Shenoa stammered nervously as she stared up at the towering cliff.
“A,- am I g, - going to have to climb that?”
Drustan nodded then added.
“I can climb first then you can tie the rope around you and we’ll just pull you up. It won’t be hard you’re quite light.” Once you’re up, Gontala must tie everything else to the rope and send them up before we finally pull him up. We leave the rope at the cave mouth up in the cliff. To make things easy, Drustan collected all their weapons and assorted equipment he had brought and stuffed them into one bag. Gontala would not forget anything in their haste, for Drustan was in a hurry. The sooner they were all up the buttress and safely hidden in the cave, he would feel a lot happier.
Shenoa swallowed then shrugged her shoulders and nodded. She hadn’t expected such a climb but ‘when needs must,’ She thought. ‘At least she was dressed for it with her short tunic and bare feet.’
Drustan wasted no time and swarmed up the rope in short order. The smaller kitchen cooking chain proved a bit harder to grip but he still arrived at the cave mouth in short order. Shenoa followed with no less agility and Impressed Drustan with her nimble footwork as he hauled her hand over fist up the cliff. She arrived at the top feeling very pleased with herself and fell into Drustan’s arms. She would have liked to linger there but Drustan had no time to waste on amour. The bag followed in short order followed by Gontala and they settled back into the cave to share some bread , meat and water.
“It’s best to fight on a full stomach. Eat it all,” advised Drustan, “we don’t know when we’ll next eat.”
Having eaten little during the journey the pair needed no persuading. All the food was eaten.
Next, Drustan lit the three little lamps and disappeared into the fissure dragging the equipment bag behind him. Shenoa, glanced at her younger brother, shrugged and promptly followed. They found themselves in the ‘half-way’ chamber and Drustan signalled to them to be quiet. He pointed out the drain hole and whispered.
“King Pilus’s family are down there. They’re probably sleeping and it’s best they don’t know we’re here. Secrecy and surprise; those are our weapons!”
Both children had gathered the jist of the plan now and Drustan took the opportunity to explain it in depth. They nodded nervously as Drustan made them repeat their parts. Shenoa was to pretend to be an amorous kitchen maid and she would accompany Drustan who would be dressed as a soldier in the clothes he had stolen and secreted in the cleft after killing the previous owner and burning his body. Gontala was also to pretend to be another kitchen maid and he would be bringing the rest of the rations for the soldiers standing guard. Pedoro had already made his soldiers clearly visible to the occupiers of the castle and they had posted double watches until their own forces arrived to take issue with whosoever still supported King Pilus. This meant that the defenders were more-or-less on permanent guard duty and not free to eat in the great hall. Food had to be taken to them from the kitchens. Pedoro had worked this out from his knowledge of the castle and the occupier’s numbers supplied by Drustan. He had deliberately arranged his men so that the castle occupiers could easily see them but they remained out of bow-shot. Just the presence of troops loyal to the captured king would cause stress in the castle. It was this stress that Drustan intended to exploit.
After eating and resting up, Drustan led his companions down the inner section of the fissure and they arrived in the upper cleft in the rock that lay hidden in the ceiling shadows above the dungeon passage. He instructed the pair to wait unseen until he had reconnoitred the kitchens. The evening meal was being prepared and Drustan was pleased to see the Taan, the scullery maid that he had met the last time. She was busy rushing about preparing bowls of food to deliver to the guardsmen who held them captive. Drustan used a dark alcove below the spiralling steps that connected the kitchens up to the castle courtyard and waited. Soon the girl appeared struggling with the huge copper pot and Drustan stepped out to confront her. He had to save the pot as she nearly dropped it in shock.
“Which gate is that for?”
After recovering from her shock Taan gasped.
“The main gate; you’re back then!”
“Yes. Do they check the food for poisons?”
“Not anymore. They confiscated anything suspicious and they’ve stopped checking.”
Without replying because speed was essential, Drustan tipped a pouch full of powdered herbs into the stew and warned the girl.
“They won’t taste it but there’s not enough to kill them. It will just make them feel drowsy but not suspicious, they’ll just think it’s because they’ve been standing guard all day.”
“Your soldiers are outside! Are they going to attack the castle?”
Drustan just nodded and told the girl to carry on as normal then meet him at the bottom of the spiral stairs as she delivered the other pots.
“You’ll also have a little helper. Just pretend she’s an even lowlier scullery maid than you. The faster this stuff is delivered, the faster the guards will be affected. Do you decide who gets fed first?”
“More or less. That’s why I fed the main gate first. Their sergeant is posted there.”
“Good girl.” Feed the East postern gate next, okay!”
“If you say so. When will your army attack?”
“Hist girl! The less you know, the better for all of us. After you’ve delivered that, go and get the postern gate’s food and meet us here.”
Taan nodded, smiled nervously and returned to her duties. Drustan was pleased to realise that no guards patrolled inside the castle. Their forces were spread too thin. He collected Shenoa and Gontala and explained the plan. They were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Taan returned. Shenoa and the girl made their acquaintances as Drustan explained.
“Once you have given them their food, tell them you’ll be bringing extra rations for the night. Then they’ll be expecting us later when it’s darker.”
Shenoa already understood the plan and the two girls set forth carrying the pot between them after Drustan had dosed it with the herbal drugs. From the safety of the stairs, Drustan watched as the girls approached the sentry to the postern gate.
“Ah! About bloody time too. We’re bloody starving. Who’s she?”
“The under scullery maid sir,” Taan replied. “She rarely gets to leave the larders and store rooms. That’s why you won’t have seen her.”
The sentry studied Shenoa and smiled with a predatorial glint.
“Mmmm! Pretty little thing aren’t you?”
“Please sir, we have to feed the other guards.”
The sentry nodded with no little disappointment for the new girl’s story was true. Other guards had realised that the evening meal was being served up and they were hungry. The maids returned to the lower alleyway several times and finally completed their task. They left a small pot of stew for Drustan’s ruse. It remained now for the drugs to take effect and Drustan watched as the guards gradually started to lean sleepily at their various posts. Eventually as darkness fell, they seemed to be sleepy enough. Drustan had Gontala carry the pot as he masqueraded as a soldier. His ruse worked and they approached right up to the drowsy guards before they were challenged.
“Who goes there.”
“It’s the rations for the night,” Drustan replied in as deep a voice as he could muster. Don’t eat it all at once, food’s scarce.”
The sentry struggled to his feet and peered into the pot then looked again at Drustan. It was his last ever view of another man. Drustan’s dagger found it’s mark with deadly precision and Gontala gasped with fear. As Drustan gently lowered the man to a sitting position he turned to locate the other guard at the gate. He found him pissing in a glory hole and despatched him with equal alacrity. With both the gate sentries disposed of Drustan had two options. To kill the remaining three guards on the battlements or tackle the heavy bars that secured the gate. He decided the latter was the best option. From the battlements, the gate was invisible. He despatched Gontala back to the stairs and commenced carefully sliding back the heavy crossbars.
With infinite care he slid back the bars and cracked the gate open. It creaked alarmingly but the battlement guards were so drowsy that none were alerted by it. Once the gate was open wide enough to allow a man to pass, Drustan took the lamp from the guard room, lowered the flame to a minimum and placed the lamp in the gap to signal to Pedoro and his troops waiting outside the castle some way down the rocky pathway.
Amongst the rocks below the gate, Pedoro was relieved and overjoyed to see the signal. He advanced with his troops in the darkness.
Unfortunately one of the soldiers slipped and fell as his shield crashed deafeningly onto the rocks. The noise was enough to alert the battlement guards and they screamed the alarm as they commenced shooting arrows down into Pedoro’s troops. Several men were hit including Sular, Pedoro’s third son.
Then one of the battlement guards realised there was a light flickering below the keep and he looked down to see the gate ajar. Even though drowsy from the drugs he was sharp witted enough to realise all was not right. He hurtled down the steps to the gate house and cursed as he saw the lamp.
“What the hell’s going on?” He bellowed as he spotted his comrade still apparently seated in the shadows while his other companion was just stepping back from the lamp. The dopy guard eventually realised that the man was either a traitor to their cause or some sort of enemy who had somehow entered the castle. With a scream of rage he flung himself at Drustan.
Drustan had no time to draw his sword as the guard flung aside his empty bow and drew his sword. Drustan realised his time could be up if he didn’t act quickly. As the man lunged forward, Drustan flung himself into the gatehouse door way and slammed the door behind him. For a few moments, the guard cursed as he pushed against the door then he remembered that the gate was still unbolted. With a curse he turned from the door and lurched over to the gates. Drustan heard the wooden keeper bars being slid back into place and he cursed furiously. Now he would have to fight and that was the last thing he wanted. It would be a man against boy sword play with no chance of subterfuge or some clever trick. There was neither time nor room but Drustan had some advantages. The man was still dopy from the drugs. The guard-house was cramped and the passageway was the only way in or out.
Silently Drustan pulled back the gatehouse door and sighed with relief as he saw the befuddled guard preoccupied with the locking bars. He had laid his sword aside to manhandle the heavy timbers back into place. It was Drustan’s turn to attack and he selected the man’s left arm for he had seen the man holding his sword in his left arm as he had attacked earlier. With a furious slash he sliced open the man’s unprotected wrist and the man gave a howl of rage. He was not killed however but simply disabled. He bellowed the alarm again.
“Comrades to me! The gate is forced!”
The remaining pair of guardsmen heard his shout and lurched down the steps to give battle.
Drustan cursed as he stabbed the wounded man again then he struggled with the heavy bar for the second time. It moved but not enough before the two remaining guardsmen rushed to secure the gate. Like fools they shouted and this alerted Drustan to their attack. It gave him time to present his sword but he still had two grown men to face even though they were affected by the drugged stew. The clash of sword play rang across the courtyard and Drustan was forced to retreat back into the guard house. The deep narrow doorway prevented two men from attacking simultaneously but Drustan garnished no advantage. His overwhelming task was to open the gate and in this he had singularly failed. He cursed as he strived desperately to hold the first swordsman at bay.
As the clash of the fight persisted Drustan feared that other guardsmen might come to address the fight. He began to lose hope for his plan was falling apart. He was stuck, trapped in the guard-house.
He had not accounted for others even more desperate than he. Taan had returned to the kitchen but Gontala’s appearance had alerted her that something was wrong. She had expected him to be at least watching the fight if not participating.
“What’s wrong kid?”
“He’s trapped. Drustan’s trapped and the gate is still barred.”
Without more ado, Taan seized a long sharp kitchen knife and ignored the chief cook’s challenge as she dashed to the gate. Gontala naturally followed her, if only out of fearful curiosity. ‘Here at least was somebody who seemed bent on doing something.’ He thought.
The boy raced after her waving his sword and in passing Shenoa at the bottom of the spiral stairs he whispered a further summons for help.
“Drustan’s trapped. We’ll have to open the gate.”
Shenoa swallowed fearfully and set off after her youngest brother. She had visions of her mother’s torment if he or she were killed. The sound of the fight was confined to the guard-house and in the courtyard they only heard the faint clash of swords ringing out as the first swordsman hammered at the faltering boy while his comrade stood looking into the narrow doorway waiting for his chance to get at the boy. The man with the cut wrist was fortunately out of it. He sat slumped by the gate as arterial blood spurted his life away from the second wound Drustan had inflicted. Both the remaining soldiers were so intent on killing the boy that they failed to see or hear the stealthy approach of the bare footed scullery maid Taan knew enough not to announce her arrival and she simply drove her kitchen knife into the man’s shoulder as he continued looking into the guard-house. It
wasn’t a fatal wound for the man wore a heavy leather jerkin that had deflected the blow. The man bellowed with enraged pain as he span to face his attacker and swore as he recognised the kitchen maid.
“You! You bitch!” He cursed as he raised his sword to finish her. As his arm moved to strike, Gontala finally caught up and just managed to parry the man’s sword to strike harmlessly against the stone work. The man cursed again and set to against Gontala with renewed vengeance. Fortunately the stab wound had weakened the stupefied soldier’s arm and Gontala was able to jump about with freedom in the wide gateway. For a few moments Shenoa debated what to do until she saw the blood on the man’s shoulder then she approached cautiously. The man now had three antagonists because Taan had recovered her footing and even though she only held a kitchen knife it was a substantial blade. He bellowed to his companion who was still fighting with Drustan.
“Come out here! I’m outnumbered.”
His shout distracted the other soldier who momentarily stepped back into the short doorway passage to check his companion’s situation. This gave Drustan the vital opening he needed for the man’s sword arm was now hampered by the doorway. Drustan feinted to the left then lunged forward to catch the man’s sword arm a glancing cut. It wasn’t serious but it reminded the man that despite his antagonist being a boy, he was no mean swordsman. The man realised his best option was to retreat out of the doorway and stand back-to-back with his companion so that they could swing their swords freely. In the darkness he bumped blindly into his companion and both men cursed but continued fighting. Drustan now managed to emerge from the guard-room but the outcome was still uncertain. When he learned who the second swordsman was facing, Drustan’s sword play became furious and desperate. He received a vicious cut to his scalp then a second to his left thigh but it was not all one way. His sword arm was still sound and this counted more heavily against the drugged man who faced him. Drustan had inflicted a further cut to the man’s upper arm just below his short sleeve of chain mail. The man flinched and pressed harder until Drustan was backed against the gate. Meanwhile the second soldier was holding his own against the three who faced him. It was more a case of ‘shadow play’ for none of the children could countenance a full blooded attack with their short daggers against a sword. However their combined efforts served to keep the man preoccupied. Then Gontala realised his efforts had somehow put him between the soldiers who were both ‘back-to-back’. Suddenly he realised he could follow Drustan’s famous fight against Blueface and bend low to stick his dagger up under the man’s protective jerkin. Fortunately the man’s short-sleeved chain-mail ‘shirt’ stopped at his thighs so Gontala’ task was simpler. He had managed to find one of the other soldier’s swords and he held this now in his left hand having not yet had time to change hands in the ferocity of the fight. With his sword hand still making token stabs at his main foe he bent down and drove his bejewelled dagger up into the other man’s groin. The soldier let out a desperate growl and clutched at the deep wound in his groin. It was all Drustan needed as he took advantage and swung his sword furiously at the man’s unprotected neck. The sword bit deep and carotid blood spurted everywhere covering both Drustan and Gontala in his blood. The man collapsed backwards onto Gontala who now lay trapped beneath him. His companion glanced back saw the mess and span around in rage to kill the tiny boy. Drustan anticipated the move but he had to step over the dead soldier to parry the other man’s blow. The soldier’s sword struck Gontala’s shoulder a glancing blow as Drustan just managed to deflect the blade. Blood started to weep from Gontala’s shoulder and he squealed in fear more than pain. For him it had seemed certain death had come to visit.
His cry galvanised both girls who how had the soldier’s back to them as he faced the more deadly adversary of Drustan who now looked a dreadful sight with blood pouring down his face and weeping from his thigh. His sight was impaired with blood but he stood his ground and parried the soldier’s onslaught until Taan, having finally recovered her wits, leaped forward onto the soldier’s back to drive her dagger with all her might into the man’s neck. His helmet back-flap deflected the blow but the man realised again that he was back in a serious fight. He tried to glance over his shoulder but this was his undoing. Drustan lunged blindly forward and drove his sword into the man’s neck to skewer him on his sword point. The strike almost sliced Taan’s arm in passing and grazed it enough to draw blood. The man let out a choking gargle and fell to his knees as the remaining three chopped and hacked furiously at him to finally bring him low.
As soon as the fight was over Shenoa bent down to check her brother. Drustan cursed angrily.
“Bugger the boy; help me with this bloody gate!”
“He’s hurt!”
“So will we bloody all be if we don’t let your dad in. Help me with this bloody bar. My arm is weak!”
Shenoa finally realised that opening the gate was more important than her brother’s wound. Gontala was now squealing like a stuck pig and Drustan reassured Shenoa.
“If he can make a noise like that, he’s not that badly hurt. Now help me with this blasted gate before any more guards come!”
Taan the scullery maid had already stepped forward and the gate bar slowly inched back, when Shenoa added her strength it finally submitted and Drustan gasped with relief as he sagged to the floor with fear and exhaustion. His last vague recollection was of a large man in a red tunic and a full coat of chain mail rushing through the doors. Shenoa squealed with joyous relief and flung herself into her father’s arms as she pointed out the soldier pinning her younger brother to the floor. Immediately, other soldiers belonging to Lord Pedoro crowded through the gate. Drustan and the squealing Gontala were quickly lifted clear of the gateway and carried into the safety of the gatehouse guard-room.
“Job done!” Drustan sighed as he lost consciousness.
In which Drustan finds himself in the beginning of a war and Aiofe demonstrates more cunning and strategy.
Tha Angry Mermaid 11.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 11
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
As Lord Pedoro’s troops stormed into the castle Shenoa checked out her younger brother. He was still wailing about his shoulder wound so his sister gently peeled off the maid’s rough-spun top that Gontala had been wearing as his disguise and she studied the cut. She pulled a wry smile, yes he had been cut, but Shenoa had seen bigger cuts made to a breast of cooked chicken. Yes, her brother was bleeding but compared with Drustan’s wounds it was but a drip. Shenoa made him hold his maid’s top against the wound and assured him he was not going to die. She then joined Taan who was trying to stop the blood bleeding profusely from Drustan’s split scalp. Shenoa realised Drustan needed a doctor. In the heat of the battle she was not going to find one so she continued pinching the two flaps of scalp together while the scullery made checked the courtyard.
There were men still fighting everywhere but Lord Pedoro’s men now outnumbered the meagre garrison of the castle and things were rapidly going in Pedoro’s favour. Eventually the courtyard cleared and Taan dashed into the kitchen. She had a little knowledge of curative herbs and she knew the culinary ones that were known to help with wounds. The Cook Esther bore down on her angrily for she had heard nothing of the chaos reigning two floors above on the outside of the kitchen block.
“What are you stealing those herbs for you wicked girl?
“Dammit Esther! Can you not hear the battle above?”
“Don’t you dare swear at me girl!”
“I tell you the castle is relieved! Lord Pedoro, the Lord Marshal of the south has captured it!”
“You lie girl. It’s impossible to take this place!”
“I don’t. I need these herbs to save a warrior who bleeds as we argue!”
The cook moved to seize Taan but she was too fat and slow. The young, nimble scullery maid easily evaded her and dashed out of the door with the cook plodding angrily after her. It was not until she stepped up into the courtyard that she discovered the bodies scattered about. Truly there had been a short but very violent fight. She spotted Taan disappearing into the guard house and followed her to find the girl wondering what to do with the herbs. The cook immediately recognised Shenoa as Lord Pedoro’s beautiful daughter and quickly realised that something of great import had occurred. She gasped her astonishment.
“My lady what has happened here?”
“A fight Esther, and a bloody one at that! Isn’t it obvious?”
Esther gasped then saw Taan trying to press the herbs against Drustans scalp. She wagged her head and frowned.
“For the god’s sakes girl. You have to make a poultice. Are you stupid?”
Taan cursed and removed the compressed herbs from Drustan’s scalp and it promptly resumed bleeding. Shenoa cursed again.
“Dammit. Hold the two flaps together or he’ll bleed to bloody death!”
Esther had never heard the lady Shenoa curse before and she gasped. Obviously the wounded boy was somebody of importance for a lady no less, to show concern. She bundled Taan back to the kitchens to boil the herbs and make several hot poultices. She returned ten minutes later with Taan and the poultices to explain how to apply them.
Shenoa sagged with relief. Her hands were aching with the effort of holding the flaps of skin. Esther’s strong, capable cook’s hands quickly effected a proper dressing and she secured a bandage around the boy’s jaw to compress the dressing to the split scalp.
These herbs clean the wound as well as cause the blood to stiffen. Just watch my children.
After securing the dressings to both scalp and thigh Esther finally turned to Gontala whom she also recognised as Lord Pedoro’s son.
“Right my young lord. Let’s see this shoulder of yours.”
Gontala exposed the cut which had stopped bleeding and Esther smiled as she indulged the boy.
“Well lad. You’ll have a scar to excite the ladies. Let’s put this poultice on.”
She pressed the poultice against Gontala’s shoulder and it stung dreadfully. Worse even than the cut itself. The boy let out a wail and Esther scolded him.
“Stop whingeing, did you see that lad cry and his wounds are far worse.”
“Yes but he sleeps!” Gontala protested.
“And he might not wake boy. Pray for him, he’s lost a lot of blood!”
At this Gontala fell silent as he realised how insignificant his own wounds were.
At this Ferdie, Pedoro’s second son appeared in the doorway. He was counting the dead and wounded. When he saw Drustans pale shaded countenance he gasped.
“By the one God! Will he live?”
“Too soon to tell brother. Come back in the morning.” Shenoa replied.
“Oh my God! Him and our brother,” Ferdie Sighed.
“Our brother, huh! That’s but a flesh wound!” Shenoa smirked.
“Not him sister! Your older brother Sular. He got an arrow in the chest. They’re taking him into town even now to the physician.”
Shenoa’s face paled. Of her four brothers, she was closest to Sular for they were the closest in age. This battle had cost her dear. Three people close to her and two of them close to death. She wrung her hands fearfully and Taan tried to comfort her.
“Fear not my lady. This boy is made of strong stuff. If his wounds don’t get infected, he should survive. It’s sleep he needs now. He had food just before this battle for he stole some meat from the kitchen table.”
Both girls and Esther the cook looked closely again at Drustan’s head, Esther breathed a sigh of relief.
“I think his head’s stopped bleeding.”
“Praise God!” Shenoa and Taan chorused in unison.
“We’re not out of it yet my lady. Somebody must stitch his scalp.
“Will somebody stitch my wound?” Gontala pleaded.
Shenoa and Taan looked up with disgust at the eleven-year-old boy.
“Oh shut up boy!” Snapped the quick-tempered Taan. “ It’s but a bloody scratch!
Shenoa smiled. Amongst her family, Gontala, the youngest had always been somewhat indulged. She would never have been allowed to scold her younger brother like that. Gontala’s face was a picture. To have been scolded by a mere scullery maid was an affront to his noble dignity. Esther intervened before any more was said.
“We need somebody with sewing skills my lady or that wound will become an ugly scar.”
“It will be under his hair Esther. No—one will see it.”
“Nevertheless, the two flaps must be joined. A well sewn and properly closed wound lessens the risk of infection.”
Shenoa contemplated the idea. As a lady she had beautiful embroidery and sowing skills but was she up to this sort of needle-work. Esther sensed Shenoa’s mind ticking over. She suggested that Shenoa go to Queen Shaleen’s chambers and find some silk thread. Shenoa was nervous but recognised Esther’s good sense. Reluctantly she left Drustan’s side and entered the castle. Despite her scullery-maid rags, Pedoro’s soldiers recognised her beauty and immediately let her pass. She met her father in the meeting hall talking to his captains. He turned and smiled with relief to see his daughter.
“Safe I see my darling?”
“Yes father, where is King Pilus?”
“We’re still searching for him. There are hidden places all over this confounded castle. It seems the rock beneath us is a virtual honeycomb of cells and passages.”
“I’m sorry I have further bad news.”
“Go on. This gets worse.”
“The boy Drustan has a bad wound to the head. I need needle and thread to sew up his scalp. Where are the ladies’ chambers?”
“Through there and on your left. Will the boy live?”
“Esther the cook seems to think so.”
Pedoro’s face was a picture as he replied disbelievingly.
“The cook! The bloody cook! Has he not seen a doctor?”
“There is none daddy. The only doctor is apparently busy in the town with the other wounded including Sular I’ve heard.”
“Yes, I’m waiting news of him as well. Ferdie is going back to the town now to organise the citizenry and check on your brother. He’s looking for servants of the castle who were absent when the castle was taken. They might know where the king is likely to be hidden. All in all it’s a bit of a mess. We cannot even find where the royal family are imprisoned.”
“I know where they are father. “They were alive this morning when we, - you know;” she stopped short as her father motioned her to be quiet.
“Well done darling. Where are they?”
“In a deep dungeon deep in the rock.”
“My men have searched the dungeons as a dog sniffs for rabbits and found nothing.
“There must be a hidden cell with a hidden entrance or something. They are definitely alive and well. Drustan fed them only this morning. Look, I must stitch Drustan’s scalp then I’ll help with the search.”
“Good girl. Be quick.”
Shenoa skipped away to find needles and threads. There were plenty in Shaleen’s chambers and she returned to the postern gatehouse with a large camphor-wood sowing box. Esther opened it and smiled with satisfaction, especially when she found a couple of curved needles.
“We must use the silk threads and boil them.”
“Why boil them?”
“It softens the thread and they do not tear the suture holes.”
“But when they dry they will tighten and snap or tear the skin.”
“They will not dry girl. His blood and lymph keep the threads soft and moist.”
“Ah! I see. Gosh you know a lot about wounds and cuts.”
Just go down to the kitchen and find Taan. She’s boiling fresh, clean water from the well as we speak. And boil the needles, - oh and wash your hands she called after Shenoa who was already stepping through the gatehouse door. Shenoa stopped and looked back puzzled.
“My hands? Why do I wash my hands?”
“Just do it, and bring Taan back with you. Tell her to wash her hands and bring back some boiled linen for bandages. Bring the whole pot of boiling water and don’t scald yourselves!”
When Shenoa had gone, Gontala spoke to Esther.
“Why boil everything and why wash the hands?”
“I don’t know but I’ve seen it plenty of times with cuts and wounds in the kitchens. If they wash the wound and used boiled water and dressings, the cuts heal faster and they don’t turn septic so often. There must be a reason why, but I don’t know it.
Trust me, I’ve worked from scullery maid up to cook in this castle, maid and matron for over thirty years. I always make the girls wash the wound in clean, boiled, fresh water from the well. It seems to work, especially after the herbs are poulticed.”
Gontala fell silent as Esther checked on Drustan again. Then Shenoa and Taan arrived carrying the large pot of water on a pole between them.
“Did you wash your hands?”
“Yes mistress,” Smirked Shenoa as she did a mock courtesy to the older woman.
“This is no joke my lady. Washing seems to work. Might I suggest you get on with your craft, namely the stitching. Taan can watch and learn. My eyesight is not what it was.”
Suitably admonished, Shenoa set to and soon Drustan’s scalp looked hardly the worse for wear. The hair perfectly covered the wound as it would the ensuing scar. The thigh cut proved much trickier. The deep-cut flesh would not behave as a flap of cloth and Shenoa made a mess of it as she tried to make her stitches small and neat. In the end she gave up as the flesh tore
and she was compelled to stitch the wound up with ugly, sail-maker’s ‘homeward bounders’. Esther could see the problem but knew of no better solution. Most of the cuts she had dealt with were small and easily stitched together. Then it was Gontala’s turn and Taan was given an opportunity to practice.
“I want my sister to do it. She’s a good sewer.” Gontala protested.
“Stop whingeing boy. Don’t you want a scar to impress your friends.? A real scar properly earned in battle just like your hero Drustan?”
Gontala capitulated and braced himself for the needle. He squealed as Taan thrust it in with considerable pleasure.”
“Oh shut up you big baby. Here bite on this.”
She handed him a piece of wood and, if it didn’t help Gontala stand the pain, it certainly muffled his cries. Then Esther instructed Taan to secure the boy’s arm in a sling to keep the sutures still and let the wound heal.
When they were finished, Taan took Gontala to the main hall and presented the boy to his father.
“Your son my lord. A little battle scarred but alive and well.”
Pedoro stared stupidly at Gontala’s arm and frowned.
“God forbid, what happened at that postern gate?”
“We nearly lost it father, I had to fight.” Gontala replied. “So did Shenoa and Taan.”
“What!!” Pedoro almost shrieked as he turned to the older girl. “Is this true?”
“Yes my lord, every word. But don’t worry, Gontala fought and fought well. He helped to kill one of the soldiers and he’s got a nice scar to prove it.”
Pedoro slumped in his chair. For him, fighting the battle was never a problem, he could face swords and arrows, but how would he explain to his beloved Shulaar that her two youngest children had actually exchanged blows with full-grown men at arms.
‘Just wait until that stupid, reckless Gangani boy woke up!’ Pedoro told himself. ‘I’ll bloody give him ‘the children would be safe’ as the boy had reassured Shulaar.’
Meanwhile, in the gatehouse Shenoa knew what she had to do next. If anybody knew the secrets of the dungeons it would have to be either Queen Shaleen or other members of the royal family. She made her excuses to Esther and slipped away under the pretence of a lavatorial need. In the dark of the deep dungeon passage, she clambered up the rock to the hidden cleft that led into the secret, tunnel fissure. As she slithered along the passage she cut her knees and belly as well as banging her head in her haste to reach the half-way chamber. On reaching it she immediately called down the ‘drain hole’.
“Your majesty, it is Shenoa, Lord Pedoro’s daughter. The castle is recovered we have it.”
A wave of relief swept around the cell at this announcement and Shaleen called back.
“So get us out of here. What keeps you.”
Shenoa smiled to herself as she admitted everybody’s ignorance.
“My lady, we none of us know where the entrance to your cell is.”
It was the first time any of her children had heard Queen Shaleen curse.
“God Damn it! Of course!”
Only the keepers of the castle would know that and any prisoner incarcerated in the pitch black, rock holes. She replied urgently.
“The access is down the well! The large iron cage that appears to be a torture device over the blacksmith’s forge is actually lowered down the well and prisoners are taken down into the deepest dungeons. You will understand when you see it.”
“Thank you Majesty.”
Without further words or delay, Shenoa squirmed back to the castle cutting her breasts again on the sharp rocks in the process. She immediately burst in on her father’s council of war.
Shocked faces gaped at the mud-streaked, almost bare-breasted, bloodied girl still in a scullery-maid’s rags.
“Daddy. I have it. The location of the dungeons.”
For a moment Pedoro could hardly believe the filthy, wretched child was his own beautiful daughter until he recognised her voice. He recovered quickly at his daughter’s declaration and followed her bare feet as they splattered back down to the dungeons. There they found two of Pedoro’s soldiers still tapping every inch of rock searching hopelessly for some secret door or panel. Shenoa squealed at them as her father and the captains joined her in the dungeon chamber.
“The access is down the well! There, that cage, it is rove over that big pulley wheel and lowered down the well. Apparently the access is down the well in the sides of the walls!”
The men swiftly sorted the arrangement and Pedoro himself was the first to descend. He called up as he found the doorway cunningly recessed into the well wall. It was invisible from the top of the well, for it was set back deep in the stygian blackness.
“My God men, this is a cunning trick! Send another man down to me.” He called up as he stepped into the doorway and discovered the alleyway carved out of solid rock behind it.
The cage shot to the surface reflecting everybody’s urgency and in moments a soldier plus Shenoa still in her rags appeared at Pedoro’s side.
“My God child. There was no need for you to come. God alone knows what we’ll find.”
“I’ve seen enough father, death and blood aplenty. I will see the king and his family safe.”
“Very well. Look here is the first door.”
The commotion in the alleyway alerted the occupant of the cramped, single cell and Pedoro recognised King Pilus’s voice.
“Who’s there?”
“Lord Pedoro your majesty. We have retaken the castle. Who else is with you?”
“Nobody but let me out. There are several other cells down here. My wife and children are in one of them.”
The stone slab proved heavy but Pedoro and his man at arms were strong enough to move it after removing the iron bars that locked it down. Shenoa fidgeted impatiently as she waited for her second cousin the king to appear. She flung herself at her lord and master when he finally clambered out blinking owlishly in the feeble candle light.
“My God Pedoro, is this your daughter Shenoa?”
“Yes my liege. I’ll explain the clothes later.”
“Indeed, well my thanks to you sir, and your men, - and your daughter! Come let us see who else is down here.”
“Queen Shaleen and all the children are here sir.” Shenoa squealed excitedly.
“And how would you know that child?”
Shenoa fell silent. She wasn’t sure about revealing the secret of the fissure in the rock and the middle chamber or the cave hidden up the cliff. Then she realised she was being stupid. The king would have to know but she decided to let Drustan have the pleasure of springing that surprise on King Pilus, ‘that is provided Drustan lived’.
Her reticence was missed in the excitement as King Pilus explained the secret of the next cell. The slab was much bigger but Pilus located a rope and double tackle in a hidden recess. The man at arms sat on Pedoro’s massive shoulders and swiftly attached the double block to the lug embedded in the ceiling. All the men heaved in unison and within moments the heavy slab was grinding sideways as the tackle took the weight and the men pushed at it. King Pilus’s family emerged blinking and grateful as Queen Shaleen fell into her husband’s arms. The she noticed the scruffy, mud-stained, bleeding, beggar girl.
“Am I to believe this is your daughter Lord Pedoro?”
“Yes Ma-am.”
Queen Shaleen smiled indulgently as she teased the huge man.
“Is that the best you can provide for her? Beggar’s rags!”
“We’ll talk of this later ma-am.” He smiled as he turned to King Pilus.
“My Lord, the other cells please. There other important prisoners down here.”
“Who.” King Pilus wondered.
“Try King Appotel and his whole family not to mention three very important girls!”
King Pilus’s jaw sagged with shock.
“My God! This gets worse and worse. How were they captured?”
“Later my lord. Your strength here please.”
The king finally realised that his safety was not the only issue at stake. He joined Pedoro, Maguel and the Soldier in removing the final and heaviest slab. Eventually King Appotel, his wife Bramana and seven girls emerged. Pedoro recognised the four princesses and quickly remembered that the three other girls were Drustan’s sisters. After introductions everybody was hoisted to the surface were profuse apologies were made by Pilus for the treatment of his visitors. The sisters Queen Bramana and Queen Shaleen were simply relieved that their children were all safe. Aiofe and Mabina immediately asked about their own brother.
Pedoro turned to Shenoa and asked her to explain. As the girl related the events at the postern gate both sisters had Shenoa show them to the postern gate house while the younger Arina accompanied the queens and their daughters to the royal apartments.
Aiofe and Mabina found Esther the cook carefully wiping their brother’s brow as Taan arrived with yet another pot of boiled well water and more fresh clean linen bags to use as bandages and wipes.
Drustan still lay unconscious and looked frighteningly pale. Aiofe and Mabina exchanged fearful, angry looks for it seemed their brother had once again shown a stupid recklessness and incurred yet more wounds. Aiofe was beginning to suspect that her younger brother was somehow suicidal and joined with battle secretly hoping to get killed. Tears welled up to the sisters eyes as they checked their sibling out.
“He’s cold.” Mabina observed. “Isn’t there a decent warm room for him? This place is like a prison cell! Why is there no fire here?”
“Fuel is too scarce;” Esther replied. “I suppose we could take him down to the kitchen. There’s a cooking fire down there.”
Without more ado, Shenoa called some of her father’s soldiers to assist and a stretcher was fashioned out of shields and spears.
Drustan was ‘portaged’ down to the kitchen and laid down by the cooking fire. It was actually the only fire in the castle for fuel had become scarce during the siege. Taan gathered some large sacks and a crude bed was fashioned. As Drustan lay still and grey his sisters could do little more. Only time could tell the outcome now.
By now the town’s citizenry were arriving at the gates and the castle’s needs were slowly being addressed. Cartloads of timber arrived for the fires and much of it found its way down to the kitchens. As fresh food arrived Esther prepared the first decent meal since the third day of the siege. Mabina and Aiofe assisted with preparing the food and Esther looked at them curiously.
“You work well with food for noble ladies.”
Aiofe exchanged a smile with her sister as Mabina explained.
“We are not nobility Esther. Our family were boat builders back home on the Britannic Isles. All we womenfolk learned to cook from an early age for we travelled with our men-folk to many strange and far-away places. On the voyages, we women usually cooked."
They chatted at length about their travels and Esther wagged her head.
“But to travel so is dangerous, what of pirates and suchlike?”
“Our lands were peaceful until the Romans left, then the Norsemen started to appear on our seas and the Saxons in our fields.
Ships still have to be delivered and trade conducted. Our family had to build and trade ships for gold and corn and cloth. Drustan’s ideas were our first chance at becoming wealthy. His ship, The Angry Mermaid, proved his ideas worked and we were set to sell many such vessels. Then the Norse butchers came and murdered our people. We escaped in Drustan’s boat and we will never be able to return to our lands. In truth there’s nothing to return to.”
Esther felt saddened. The three Gangani visitors were like gypsies, travellers with no place to call home. She motioned to Taan to spoon out some large bowls of food from the huge copper that was now boiling a delicious stew to serve as an emergency meal for the king’s table.
“And make sure there is plenty of meat in it.”
Taan ladled out the delicious smelling food and the Gangani girls fell on it like ravenous wolves. Aiofe and Mabina were desperately hungry and all notions of gentility were discarded as they hungrily devoured the food. They were into their third bowls when Shenoa returned still garbed in her kitchen-maid’s rags. Taan and Esther smiled for Shenoa had made some ‘adjustments’ and even yet managed to look attractive in the crudest of rough sacking.
“Have you not yet changed my lady?” The cook wondered.
“Too busy Esther. There is talk of an attack from the west. Our greedy cousin Portega was always a covetous rat. It was he that organised the coup. He will get a shock now though. My father’s early action has anticipated his sneak attack. We will meet him on the plains of Talevar. He has a large army but already Appotel’s forces are marching north to reinforce our army. Pedoro’s oldest son Isaar sent word to Appotel’s nobles and they despatched immediately. Already they are nearly arrived in my father’s town.
Both Appotel and Pilus are this moment preparing to gather forces. We also expect King Dorian to send some troops from the north as well. He has an old score to settle with Portega.”
“So there’s to be more fighting.” Aiofe sighed, “I’ll never get to Carthage.”
“Take courage sister.” Mabina advised. “At least our crazy brother will be out of this battle. His wounds will ensure that.”
“Aye,” Esther added, “he’ll be a week at least just replacing lost blood and those wounds are not just scratches either.”
Aiofe and Mabina exchanged knowing looks. They knew their crazy brother to be better than that when it came to recovering from injury. Then Shenoa added further doubts.
“It will be at least two weeks before we can do battle. Our forces have to be mustered and the thief has to consolidate his forces. His baggage train is stretched out half way to the Western Sea. He has been moving swiftly and secretly but now he’ll know his plot has been discovered. He’ll have to reinforce the light shock forces he had gathered.”
Aiofe sighed as she studied the comatose shadow by the fire.
“So if this lunatic brother of ours recovers we could yet hear of another reckless endeavour.”
Shenoa bent down to study the boy who had saved the castle.
“Don’t censure him so. He saved our lives and opened the Postern gate. Besides’ he’s still wounded and he’s done more than his share of fighting. Just tell him he can’t go, he’s too ill.”
Aiofe exchanged another world weary smile with Mabina. ‘Nobody could tell their headstrong brother anything, and that even included kings!’ Drustan was a law unto himself now that his father and grandfather were presumed dead. The boy’s philosophy seemed to be that if there was nobody left to care for him then he was answerable to nobody; and that included his sisters. With all the bravado and machismo of a cynical, orphaned, fourteen-year-old boy, Drustan felt responsible for his sisters but nobody was responsible for his worthless hide.’
“You try telling him,” Aiofe sighed as Mabina nodded agreement. If he wakes, he’ll be raring to fight again. He’s a suicidal mad thing.”
“And yet look at him now; knocking on death’s bloody door!” Mabina snapped as her fears for Drustan’s recovery gnawed away at her confidence and she turned again to the cook for reassurance. “Will he recover Esther?”
Esther shrugged apologetically. They could only wait and see.
Shenoa could see that little good was being done by Drustan’s worried sisters. The boy was lying comfortable and warm. The wounds were cleaned and he slept. She motioned towards the door and invited the girls to accompany her to the great hall where the kings were dining.
“There’s nothing more to be done here. The boy’s in good hands. Besides, I need to change and I’m sure you do too. I saw your baggage being recovered from the pillage. Maybe I can borrow one of your gowns, I Came here with nothing but what I wear. I’ll explain later.”
Aiofe turned to Esther who smiled and nodded.
“You go girls. He’ll be okay here with Taan to mind him.”
The sisters accompanied Shenoa to the great hall where the royal families were recovering from their imprisonment.
Taan now watched over the wounded boy and wondered that a boy so brave and skilled could yet look so soft and maidenly as he slept innocently amidst the sacking. She couldn’t resist just peeking under the cover and wondering at the soft girlish mounds adorning his chest. This was truly a strange boy.
This chapter describes the first skirmish of the forthcoming war and explains how Drustan helped to win back ther castle. More wounds and scars for the 'tic-tac-toe' kid.
The Angry Mermaid 12
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 12
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
All eyes turned as Shenoa walked boldly into the great hall still wearing her scullery maid’s rags though fashioned to resemble an Amazon warrior’s bodice and short skirt. Pedoro’s eyes fell disapprovingly upon his daughter’s revealing garb especially as she was standing in the presence of not one but two kings. Even streaked with mud and blood her fresh-faced beauty was still revealed and King Pilus’s only son Pinipe could not help but stare. Queen Shaleen scolded her son.
“Close your mouth boy. You’ll be catching flies if you go around like that!” She scolded as she stood hastily to remove Shenoa and the other girls to her chambers where they could be made more presentable.
Queen Bramana also excused herself for she knew that Queen Shaleen had not been introduced to Drustan’s sisters. It would not do to let good manners slip now that the castle was back to its lawful and orderly occasion. Both kings rose as their sister queens departed and Pilus turned to his son.
“Shenoa’s a pretty girl eh boy. If you want her hand you’d best speak to Pedoro here.”
It was Pedoro’s turn to be shocked.
“But my liege! My daughter Shenoa is but fourteen summers, hardly ready to become a princess. You saw how rough and unmaidenly she was. She has lived with four wild brothers. She needs a year at least at court to be taught the rudiments of decorum. Did you not see that revealing rag she wore? That was quite deliberate. She’s a provocative minx!”
“Yes, but a girl of spirit and proven courage. Good princess material I’d say. What d’you think Appotel?”
“Well there’s no question of her courage, I’ll warrant you that Pilus, but if she’s to be trained in queenly ways I’d offer my court as her school. It might be deemed unseemly for a maid to be living in the same castle as her beau.”
Prince Pinipe’s mouth frowned slightly but Lord Pedoro concurred with King Appotel.
“Yes your majesty, if my wild daughter’s reputation is to be preserved, I think that her staying at your castle would be the better solution. “
Pedoro turned to Prince Pinipe and continued.
“I warn you, your highness, my daughter is a wild thing and not easily tamed. If you would take her for a wife, you’d better prepared for a tempestuous ride!”
King Appotel just smiled and nodded his head. With four strong willed daughters of his own, he knew much about tempestuous women. With the ladies gone the men fell to discussing the forthcoming battle until the accounting of the castle’s capture was presented to them as Pedoro’s son Ferdie produced the final tally.
“Five dead my lords, two outside the Postern gate, two in the courtyard after the boy Drustan opened the gate, one during a skirmish inside this very hall.”
“And injured?”
“Just two seriously my lords. My own brother Sular that is your son - and the boy Drustan.”
“What about my shoulder?” Protested Gontala.
“That’s just a flesh wound brother. Several men have those. The two injured are serious, with life endangering wounds.”
“That damned boy should have opened the gate sooner.” Cursed Pedoro.
“Oh hardly father,” Ferdie protested. “It was that stupid soldier who stumbled and dropped his shield. That alerted the guards. He is amongst the dead.”
“Well that’s as maybe but I might only have three sons unless that arrow wound is sorted. What did that doctor say?”
“He says wait and see. The arrow went in high but the angle was downwards. There is a small leak of blood from his mouth and his breathing is laboured, but he breathes and the arrow is out. Once again the fear is infection.”
Pedoro cursed.
“Bloody typical of doctors isn’t it? Wait and see; is that all he can say? We can do nothing else can we?”
“No father.”
“And that boy, Drustan;” Appotel pressed.
“The maid Mabina has excused herself from the ladies again and gone to see her twin Drustan, apparently she has some medicinal skills.”
“Then why hasn’t she been to see my son?” Pedoro demanded.
“I don’t think she knows about Sular yet. She’s been preoccupied with her twin’s head wound.”
“Dammit Ferdie, go and see the girl. If she’s finished with that boy, take her down to see Sular.”
In the kitchen, Mabina was talking to Esther and Taan about the herbs they used.
“Have any herbs come up with the new stores from the town?” Mabina asked.
“Probably. We haven’t opened all the sacks yet. Iago is coming back soon with another cartload of kitchen stores. We can ask him.”
“Can I look while we wait?”
“Be my guest. Taan can help you; she knows a lot of the herbs.”
Mabina exchanged a questioning glance with Taan who looked pretty much all in after the events of the last day.
“Are you up to this?”
Taan wiped her brow wearily and slumped against the table. It was obvious the girl was worn out. It was long past her normal finishing time and she been forced to work late checking the late delivery of new stores. Mabina turned to Esther.
“This girl’s done in. I’ll do it myself.”
“No! I’ll help you. He helped me, I owe him this.” Taan protested.
“Well I’ll search through the bags. You just tell me what you used the herbs for. The culinary function can often tell me a lot about a herb’s medicinal properties.”
Taan slumped onto the bench as Mabina sliced open the first sack that Taan intimated probably held some herbs. As Mabina dug down into each sack, when she produced some herbs Taan identified them and explained what they were used for. Many of the herbs Mabina recognised as the same family of her own native herbs back in Lleyn but some were totally alien to her. Eventually she had about twenty different herbs spread out on the long kitchen table. Esther had finished cooking so she came to watch Mabina checking the herbs.
As Taan and Esther described each herb, Mabina smelt them and tasted them, boiled them and cooked them to see how each herb reacted. They were busy doing this when Ferdie arrived from the great hall. He went over to look at the unconscious Drustan before talking to the women.
“Has he shown any signs of recovery yet?”
Esther wagged her head as she pulverised some herbs that Mabina had selected.
Ferdie fell silent and watched with interest as Taan, Esther and Mabina boiled up the herbs and prepared different potions with different mixes and different proportions.
“Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble, d’you know what you’re doing?” Ferdie wondered aloud.
“Not really.” Mabina replied. “Lots of these herbs are foreign to me. I’m just going by taste and smell.”
She turned to Esther.
“D’you have any vinegar?”
“Of course. It’s one of the few condiments we’ve got plenty of. The Corsairs didn’t seem to like it much.”
“Good. Vinegar makes a useful base for several medicines. When it’s boiled, it breaks down lots of herbs.”
Esther didn’t even have to open her mouth before Taan was going to the store room. She returned with a large clay jar and poured out the vinegar into a row of smaller pestle dishes that Esther had laid out on the table. Mabina watched with satisfaction. Despite the cook’s overbearing manner towards the scullery maid. The pair actually worked quite well together. Eventually, Mabina had a score of assorted potions and she tasted each one carefully. Then she explained to Taan and Esther while Ferdie listened with interest.
“I’d let him sleep tonight. Sometimes letting them sleep helps. I’ll keep a vigil here if you want to catch some sleep. In the morning we shall try to wake him. This eucalyptus oil often helps by putting it to his nose.”
Taan smiled at Mabina gratefully then motioned to the palliace under the kitchen table.
“We could both sleep on that. I want to be here when he wakes up.”
Mabina shrugged and pursed her lips. She’d slept on far worse beds, like the cold wet spare sails of The Angry Mermaid. If Taan wanted to sleep under the table too, there was room enough on the palliace and the Kitchen was a warm place. Mabina suspected Taan often slept there anyway, especially on cold nights, close to the fire were she could garnish whatever warmth she wanted.
After checking Drustan’s condition, Mabina was happy. He was breathing regularly and Mabina suspected that the unconsciousness had become a deep sleep. Obviously the wound was not distressing him. Scalp wounds often looked spectacular for their bleeding but apart from his pale complexion, Drustan seemed set for a peaceful night.
As the girls made moves to bed down under the table Ferdie intervened.
“Uuhhm, aren’t you forgetting something?”
They looked up askance as Taan asked.
“What?”
“The other wounded warrior; Sular, my brother, the arrow in his chest!”
Taan sighed wearily.
“Can’t it wait? I’m shattered!”
Mabina however simply breathed deeply and got to her feet again. She knew it couldn’t wait but in her tiredness she had completely forgotten about it.
“Okay then. I’ll take some of these potions but I’m not sure what good they’ll be. Is he conscious?”
“Yes and the arrow has been removed.”
“Did the arrow-head come out?”
“I don’t know. The doctor will tell you that.”
“If he’s got a doctor why d’you need me?”
“My father wants him to have every chance. We learned of your skills with herbs.”
“Who from?”
“Appotel’s daughters and their mother Queen Bramana.”
Despite the late hour, Mabina decanted some of the medicines into some large clay pots and placed them in a bag that Esther had rustled up. Then she gave the heavy bag to Ferdie.
“I’m too tired to carry it. You take it.”
For a moment Ferdie stared at her. He was about to protest that he was the son of an earl and did not carry chattels about like some beast of burden. Then Mabina’s challenging look persuaded him. He took the heavy bag of stoppered pots and slung it carefully over his shoulder. Mabina followed with some assorted poultice pads and a bag of clean bandages. Like Esther, she also believed that cleanliness helped the healing process, and like Esther, she didn’t know why.
They arrived at the town doctor’s house were Mabina found Sular lying on a blood stained palliace in a hot sticky room and with dirty, fly-blown dressings covering the wound. Mabina almost retched at the smell but fortunately it was not the stench of infection or gangrene. It was the stink of the un-cleaned lavatory right next door with flies buzzing in and out. Mabina tried to be tactful as she ignored the doctor and turned to Ferdie.
“Why does your brother remain here?”
“He’s near the doctor.”
“The castle would be better.”
“Is it safe to move him? The doctor isn’t sure if the entire arrowhead came out and it was a very deep.”
Mabina turned to the doctor and asked to see the wound. Reluctantly the doctor untied the dressing and eased back the bloody bandage to reveal an entry hole perfectly reflecting the arrow’s shape and course, downwards, and from high above on the castle battlements..
“There may be fragments of wood or steel in there. When we removed the arrow, we found the head badly deformed and chipped. It must have struck the bone as it entered. The bent head damaged the wound further as we removed it.”
“Can I see the arrow head please?”
The doctor went to another room and recovered the pieces. Mabina studied it and frowned for there was a clear fracture where some iron had splintered off. The doctor agreed that in all likelihood, this iron was still inside the wound. As Mabina knelt beside Sular she gently palpitated the wound, Sular let out a low moan.
‘Good’, she thought ‘he’s still alive and kicking.’
As she got up she instructed Ferdie to have his brother moved to the castle where she would meet him later.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some equipment from my bag.”
Ferdie gave the instructions then begged to accompany Mabina. Mabina sensed that Ferdie was attracted to her. She wasn’t keen to have a man follow her round alone in the dark from the town back to the castle for nightfall had finally come to cloak everything in darkness. She spoke to the doctor for she had seen a young woman in the house waiting discreetly in the wings. Mabina asked for her to accompany her as a chaperone. Ferdie frowned a little and Mabina sensed the hurt but she was a hard-bitten woman now that puberty had arrived with her attractiveness. Mabina well knew the ways of arrogant sons of the nobility. The doctor’s daughter duly accompanied her to the castle and Mabina went immediately to her bags. A sleepy Taan met her outside the lady’s chambers where Queen Shaleen had called her in to praise her and thank her for her part in the fighting. Having been formally invited to enter the queen’s chambers had informally elevated Taan’s station to higher than that of common scullery maid but for now, Taan remained Taan, - the lowest menial in the castle, the scullery maid.
The luggage had been sorted by now and Ferdie looked at Mabina’s two modest bags.
“Is this all you brought? Appotel’s daughters filled two wagons with their stuff.”
“I travel light, my brother even lighter.”
“Yes, I noticed; a sword, a dagger and a loin-cloth.”
“Well, he usually wears a battler jerkin and breeches as well. They serve him sufficiently. His needs are usually small.”
“Except when he gets injured.”
“Then his needs become my needs. These bags are my needs.”
As she said this Mabina hoisted the smaller bag and rummaged about to produce a box of medical instruments gifted to her by King Dryslwyn and a narrow rod of iron with rounded ends. It looked perfectly ordinary amongst the shiny bronze instruments but it was one of the several magnetic irons that served as her compass and Mabina treasured it well. She had often wondered if its power would serve to attract an iron weapon head out of a wound, now was her chance to find out. The magnetism was particularly strong in this particular rod. To disguise its secret she emptied the box of bronze instruments and asked Taan to go and boil them as Esther would explain. Taan took the doctor’s daughter with her and returned a few minutes later with the sterilised instruments. It had been a simple matter to scald the equipment for there was always a pot of boiling water bubbling away over the kitchen fire. It was one of Esther’s little peccadilloes. Meanwhile Mabina had collected some balsamic vinegar from Esther to sterilise Sular’s wound. She dipped her precious rod into the vinegar and let it soak for she had been warned that heating the rod destroyed its magic magnetism.
They returned to Sular to find him shivering and barely conscious. Mabina realised there wasn’t much time.
‘At least the poor bugger was out of it now,’ thought Mabina, ‘he won’t feel what I’m about to do.’
The next part was the hardest. Getting everybody out of the room so that none would see what she was doing. Mabina had little faith in her idea and if others saw her invading the wound yet again, there was no knowing what reactions her efforts might invoke. She demanded privacy and finally got it. Ferdie was more than keen to do anything for his dying brother.
With infinite care, Mabina tried to slide the rod down into the wound but she met with resistance. The wound had already started to heal. Reluctantly she withdrew the rod and was forced to insert a sharp bronze blade to reopen the wound’s pathway. Blood started to flow again but Mabina had little option other than to push on. The lady’s bed upon which Sular lay was now blood soaked but eventually Mabina felt the blade fetch up against something hard. It was the fragment lodged between Sular’s ribs and just piercing the pulmonary cavity. Mabina could hear air whistling through the tiny perforation. It made breathing a little difficult but by no means impossible. She felt the tension flow from her tired shoulders as she quickly withdrew the bronze blade. Then she inveigled the magnetic rod into the wound until she located the iron arrowhead fragment again. She felt a surge of hope as she sensed the fragment click against the rod as the powerful magnetism worked its magic. The wound pathway was considerably bigger than the fragment for the complete arrowhead had cut its way down into Sular’s chest. The rod came out painfully slowly for the magnetism was only just intense enough to resist the drag of the wounded edges. Several times, Mabina had to reattach the rod to the dislodged fragment.
Eventually she saw the end of the rod with the fragment clinging to it; emerge from the bloody pool that covered the entrance to the wound. To her surprise and delight, she also found some much smaller fragments attached to the larger fragment by inducted magnetism. The magnetism had swept the arrow’s pathway fairly clear of several iron fragments. With her job done, she next had to stem the bleeding. Firstly she inserted a narrow bronze pipette into the wound and blew a liberal mouthful of balsamic white vinegar into the pipe until the vinegar flowed back up and out of the wound around the narrow pipe. Then she called Taan into the room to help pack the wound with a herbal paste. Taan had to hold the edges of the wound apart as Mabina gently worked the fine herbal paste deep into the wound. Eventually both girls sighed with relief as the blood started to clot.
“Job done I think.” Sighed Mabina as she sagged with exhaustion.
“Did you find the fragment?” Taan asked.
Mabina reached back into her instrument box, and smiled with a deep satisfaction as she showed Taan not one but several fragments. Taan gasped in wonder.
“How the hell did you get all those out? How did you manage to find them inside the wound?”
Mabina tapped her nose salaciously and retired to her bed as Taan explained to Ferdie and other waiting bodies like Lord Pedoro and the kings Appotel and Pilus.
“Was there any fragment inside the wound?” Demanded Lord Pedoro.
Taan smiled as she replied.
“Yes indeed my lords. There were three biggish ones and several other smaller ones. Please don’t ask me how she got them out.
I just don’t know. Two of the fragments were but narrow splinters but sharp and dangerous if left inside the chest wall.
Fortunately the arrow slid down outside the ribs and did not penetrate the chest cavity but for the last inch or so of travel. That’s where the arrowhead fractured. That’s where the largest fragment was pressing against the lung. Please don’t ask me how she managed to reach inside and capture the fragment. I have no idea. The lady sleeps now. She will show the fragments in the morning. And please my lords, if I might respectfully beg you. I am tired also.”
Pilus nodded sagaciously, indeed, everybody was tired.
Dawn broke to a light cooling rain that brought comfort to everybody but particularly Sular and Drustan.
Sular woke as Mabina crept into his chamber and he smiled as he whispered hoarsely.
“I remember you last night woman. You came to me in a dream.”
“It was no dream sir. You were hallucinating but yes, I came to you. How do you feel?”
“It hurts, but I breathe easier. Each breath does not cut and stab now.”
“Good. This was the cause of that.”
So saying, Mabina showed the sharp edged fragments and Sular’s eyes widened as he recognised the partial remains of an arrowhead. Mabina explained.
The town doctor removed the arrow stump and its broken iron head, but I had to remove this big piece from inside the wound where it was lodged between two ribs and stabbing into your lung. You’re lucky. The lung was not penetrated. That’s why you breathe easy now.”
“Then I owe you my life woman.”
“I am not a woman. I am but a maid and a young one at that.”
“Are you the sister; the twin of Drustan Scar Arse?”
“The same sir.”
“I would love to meet him again. He has some tales to tell. Bring him to me.”
“I can’t, he was also wounded, and I go now to check.”
“Oh. Is it serious?”
“Yes.”
The monosyllibilic finality of Mabina’s answer made Sular realise that Drustan was seriously injured and Mabina was concerned. He was left staring at the empty doorway as Mabina left quickly without even excusing herself from the presence of a noble.
In the kitchen Mabina found the ever watchful Taan tending the fire as she kept an eye on Drustan. Mabina had little need to ask but she did just to make conversation.
“Any movement from him yet?”
Taan shook her head and twisted her lips despondently.
“Nothing. Nothing at all but he’s breathing regularly.”
“That’s all we want. Sleep is the best thing for him. If he woke now, his head would be in agony and the distress might make him worse. The longer he sleeps the better.”
“But he must feed!”
As they talked, Esther appeared accompanied by Shenoa. They asked in unison.
“How is he?”
“Sleeping.” Taan replied, glad that Mabina allowed her that special status of spokesman.
Shenoa sighed wistfully.
“I pray that he returns to us. And thank you already for giving me back my favourite brother. He’s eating now and already giving his brothers hell.”
“That’s good.” Mabina replied distractedly; still worried and preoccupied with her twin’s condition.
Shenoa sensed Mabina’s otherliness and discreetly departed as Esther gave Taan some mundane tasks to allow Mabina privacy with her brother.
“Just keep the fire in good heart girl so the boy stays warm but not hot. You tend the fire and let Mabina tend her brother; it’ll give her something to occupy her mind. By the way, you did well yesterday. We’ll make a cook of you yet, - or a bloody soldier!”
Both cook and Scullery maid chuckled at this and Taan felt a wave of relief well up through her breast. It seemed that she had somehow made her rite of passage into Esther’s good books. What she didn’t know was that Queen Shaleen had been so impressed with the girl’s efforts at the postern gate that she had decided to take Taan as one of her ladies in waiting. In her bed that night she had laughingly told her husband King Pilus.
“It’ll be useful to have a good swords-woman at my side should somebody ever try to capture me again.”
Esther the cook was getting two new girls from the town to replace Taan. When they arrived, Taan would be moved upstairs.
That night Drustan at long last regained consciousness. Mabina was dozing at his side and Taan was sleeping literally beside the warm ashes and close to the glowing embers at Drustan’s other side. She stirred occasionally to silently place another faggot on the fire. The whole castle was at peace save for the men at arms patrolling.
A low moan alerted both girls who sat up instantly and turned to the boy. Drustan gave a low grunt then winced and struggled to sit up. He felt dizzy and collapsed again onto the palliace. Taan immediately took a pitcher of clear, cold, water fresh from the well and handed it to Mabina. Drustan’s twin gently held it to his lips as both girls gently eased him to sit upright and the boy took his first liquid. He coughed and the movement made his head ache but he persevered and eventually the water was finished. Mabina burst into tears with relief. Taan ever the practical scullery maid took some broth she had kept simmering in a pot hanging over the eternal kitchen fire. She cooled it and placed it into Mabina’s shaking hands.
“Try him with this.”
“Thanks Taan. You’re a gem d’you know that.”
Taan smiled as a tear of relief finally pushed its way through her work-worn mask. She was glad that the boy was awake, but now she felt her task would be deemed finished and the daily drudge of the kitchen would become her lot again. She threw a couple more faggots into the fire and stared pensively into the flames as Mabina spoon-fed her twin brother.
After Mabina had fed him, she handed the bowl back to Taan and captured her mood.
“What’s wrong? You should be happy. He’s on the mend.”
Taan turned from the fire and shrugged.
“Then?”
“Then what?” Mabina wondered aloud.
“After you’ve all gone; I’ll still be the scullery maid.”
Mabina’s jaw sagged. It was common knowledge amongst the ladies that the scullery maid was to be rewarded for her efforts. ‘Did the girl not know?’ Mabina asked herself
She asked Taan to wait and she scurried off directly to Queen Shaleen’s chambers. Outside the door a guard flung his halberd across her path and Mabina cursed him.
“Who goes there?” He demanded.
“Who the hell d’you think!?”
“No one passes without identity. Kings Orders!”
Mabina cursed and struggled to remember who she was. It had always been her brother who had done the introduction thing. After gathering her thoughts she took a deep breath.
“I am Mabina, merch am Caderyn, wyres am Erin of the Gangani tribe.”
The guard blinked uncomprehendingly then Mabina had a brainwave as she added the final piece de resistance.
“And twin sister of Drustan Scar-arse who lives and is now awake!”
At this news, the guards eyes widened and he smiled eagerly as he forgot all formality for the whole castle waited on the news.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes and Queen Shaleen won’t be happy to learn that you learned of it before her. Now open the bloody door!”
At this the door opened from within and both sister queens stood together confronting Mabina as the guard stood rigidly to fearful attention. Queen Shaleen spoke.
“God forbid girl what’s all the noise!?”
“It’s my brother your majesties. He lives and is awake!”
“Oh excellent news.”
“That is your majesties but the other news I bring distresses me as much as my brother’s recovery pleases me.”
The sister’s faces clouded as Queen Shaleen asked Mabina to explain.
“It’s the scullery maid, Taan. She still doesn’t know she’s been elevated to your bed-chamber.”
“Yes, and she will know of it as soon as her replacements are arrived.”
“And that will be?”
“Tomorrow perhaps or the day after.”
“Meanwhile she scrabbles amongst the ashes while resentment grows within her breast. Resentment that is fairly felt. She sees all others rewarded while she seemingly remains as scullery maid. It wounds her. I’ve just come from her side where we nurse my beloved brother. In the kitchen still and by the fire. The girl should know, and know now.”
“And what will she then feel, knowing she is newly appointed as lady of the queen’s bed-chamber and yet still to work in the kitchens until her replacements are found and trained?”
“She will wear it. It’s the knowing that will give her hope and happiness.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I count myself as her. I once hewed wood and drew water. I once swept floors and tended fires. I was once a drudge such as she! I can tell you with all the knowledge of those who have to work that the knowledge will benefit her, the kitchens and the whole castle. She is not one to try and lord it over those she once served. Taan is not that type.”
“Very well then, if you say so. You may go and tell her now. You may be the one to have that pleasure.”
“No. I will tell Esther the cook. She can have that pleasure but Taan will know that I delivered it to Esther, that way Taan will not feel that she’s been somehow kept apart in this. The fault lies up here, tormenting the poor girl by letting her dangle in the wind. That is not the way!”
Queen Shaleen was a little taken aback by Mabina’s forthrightness and she backed off as she turned to her sister Queen Bramana.
Mabina paid her respects and left to deliver the news. Queen Shaleen turned with a mildly shocked smile to Queen Bramana.
“Well there’s a girl who knows her own mind!”
Bramana just wagged her head resignedly.
“They all do sister. That Gangani tribe must have been something to behold. If the women are like her think what the men must have been like.”
Shaleen nodded her head vigorously.
“We already do Bramana. We’ve got a crazy fourteen-year-old specimen living right here under our roof! I’ve yet to meet him; but the men already think of him as some sort of a hero.”
“Well it’s too late for queens to go poking in kitchens at this time of night. In the morning my love, you and I shall visit him; surprise him. You will meet and learn of this furious, crazy, daring boy warrior.”
Mabina returned silently to the kitchen to find Taan still pensively poking at the newly added faggots on the kitchen fire. Drustan was sitting up but neither of them was talking. The only sound was that of Taan’s poker stabbing at the un-burnt wood. Mabina turned to her twin first.
“You should be sleeping again.”
“Can’t sleep sis, my bloody head hurts.” He murmured as Taan turned in response to Mabina’s light footfall and soft words.
“He won’t take the sleeping draught you made for him.” She declared.
Mabina turned to Drustan again.
“You’d better take it brother, they’ll be coming in droves tomorrow to speak with you, to interrogate you and simply just to gawp at you. Your deeds are already becoming the stuff of sagas.”
Taan turned angrily.
“There were others at the Postern gate you know, Shenoa, Gontala, - me,” she added softly, bitterly.
Mabina decided that Taan needed to know immediately. The girl was seething with resentment. She gently tugged the tearful scullery maid to her feet.
“The deeds have been noted love. Yours included. You are to be rewarded but it’s not my place to tell you how. That right and privilege has to be Esther’s. She is to have the pleasure of telling you what your reward is, yours is the privilege of enjoying it. Now go to sleep. It’s also a long day for you tomorrow.”
Taan’s eyes brightened with hope and she fell to bawling her eyes out as the girls hugged each other. Drustan looked on with the usual lack of understanding or compassion. At fourteen he just couldn’t understand why girls cried over the daftest of things.
However, now that Taan’s mood had brightened considerably, he was happy to return to sleep.
“Am I going to get that sleeping draught or do I have to climb out of my own sick bed?”
Taan untangled herself from Mabina’s arms and quickly supplied her patient with the draught. Then the girls dragged their palliaces from under the kitchen table and laid them alongside Drustan’s. Drustan’s eyes widened but any licentious thoughts were soon extinguished. By the time Mabina and Taan had finished arranging the blankets, the sleeping draught had kicked in and Drustan was sending home the cows. The girls lay either side of him and soon joined him in sleep as silence enveloped the kitchen.
It was after dawn when Esther the cook found them still fast asleep. Normally she would have scolded the scullery maid unmercifully but this was a special day and Esther knew the girl had fought and worked unceasingly for nearly two days before, during and after the re-capture of the castle.
Esther let them sleep on as she tended to the remaining embers herself and re-kindled the kitchen fire. It was a task she was well capable of but hadn’t done for many a year. She was just washing her hands after silently placing more faggots on the fire when the sister queens arrived unexpectedly. Esther nearly dropped the precious soap as the queens startled her.
“Your majesties!” Esther whispered as she curtsied then pointed to the sleeping trio. “I’ve let them sleep. They needed it.”
The two queens glanced at the sleeping trio and smiled as they stood over them.
“Well sister! Would you just look at that?” Queen Shaleen chuckled as they slipped into the kitchen.
“Well indeed dear sister!” Queen Bramana replied with a grin. “I’d be tempted to say ‘To the Victor the spoils,’ were it not that the young lady farthest from the fire is his twin sister.”
Their voices brought Taan immediately to her senses. In her short career as a scullery maid her body had become attuned to reacting to any voice when she slept. She rose with a start and stared stupidly at the two most important ladies in the castle, not to mention her immediate boss and mentor. Taan’s face greyed with fear as she struggled to simultaneously stand, courtesy and yet make herself modest. The queens exchanged knowing smiles with Esther as Taan’s efforts finally disturbed the sleeping twins.
“Yo! - Your majesties! I, - I’m sorry! I. I. I overslept, I was, - I’m sorry your majesties.”
“Calm yourself girl!” Queen Shaleen reassured her. “There’s no need to apologise. It is us who have come to thank you. “
Taan’s jaw sagged uncomprehendingly as she tried to form words in her paralyzed throat.
“But you majesties, I,-.”
“Be still girl. Esther, tell the girl, please before she loses all sense.” Shaleen continued.
Taan turned uncomprehendingly to her boss Esther who stood with arms folded whilst still holding a large soup ladle that rested ‘spoon side up’ hooked over her shoulder.
Taan greyed again for Esther usually took this stance when she was about to scold the girl or give some important advice. Then Esther spoke.
“You’re leaving the kitchens girl. You are to work elsewhere in the castle.”
Taan held her breath for there were a score of other tasks in the castle. It could only mean some sort of promotion because scullery maid was the lowest of the low. She was too afraid to ask so Esther continued.
“You are promoted girl, but you already knew that for the scullery maid is the very bottom rung. You are to be promoted my girl, to ‘lady in waiting’ to the queen!!!”
Taan’s jaws simply worked soundlessly as she tried to comprehend. Then Mabina flung her arms around the girl. Partly to reassure the girl and partly to save her the embarrassment of finding words. Poor Taan was completely overwhelmed.
She turned uncomprehending tearful eyes to her monarch and mouthed a soundless ‘thank you’ as breath for speech refused to come.
The sister queens grinned hugely then each reached over Mabina’s shoulder to kiss the ex scullery maid on her sweat smeared, ash stained forehead.
“Yes my child. You are now the Lady Taan and you are to be my lady in waiting and companion. For you the drudge is over.”
Then they were distracted by a familiar voice and Mabina sighed with joy as she recognised her brother’s familiar tones.
“What does one have to do to get some food around here?” Drustan croaked.
Mabina riposted.
“It’s always bloody food with you isn’t it brother?”
Drustan didn’t answer. He was feeling the tender scab on his head and checking out the wound on his thigh. Mabina looked at him and frowned.
“More scars!” When will you learn? When will you stop?”
“I need a wash.” Drustan replied, totally ignoring the concern in his twin’s voice as he got to his feet.
There was a stunned silence as both queens, Esther the cook and the younger girls now got a clear look at Drustans chest. There was no denying the maidenly forms growing where a boy should be flat and hard. Drustan caught their concerned looks and frowned as he remarked defensively.
“So! So I’m growing tits. Can I help it that I’m cursed? Just don’t tell those bloody men or they’ll accuse me of being some form of witch; and I’m not!”
“You’d better cover them then or they’ll soon notice them.” Queen Bramana cautioned him as she handed him a short, none-descript top. “Good God boy! If any of the princes saw those they’d want to take you as a maid.”
“And be killed in pretty short order if they tried.” Drustan whispered menacingly as he added. “I don’t understand and I don’t care, just tell your sons to stay clear of my sword.”
He made some spectacular moves with his sword that Taan had returned to him earlier and the queen’s realised Drustan’s threat was very real. Whatever form his body was taking; he still swung a pretty mean blade. It seemed that already his scars were no longer disabling him and Mabina looked again with foreboding.
“Eat some food first.” Queen Bramana ordered as she brought Queen Shaleen forward.
Having never met her before Drustan stared blankly for a moment then extended a bloodied hand in as brusque and casual a manner as either queen had ever encountered. Both Mabina and Queen Bramana wagged their heads resignedly as Taan and Esther gave little gasps. Each woman was asking a similar question in their minds.
‘Does this rough, bloodied, warrior know anything of the niceties of good manners? He had just been introduced to a queen. Where was the bow and the ‘Your majesty’?
Instead Drustan released the queen’s hand and turned again to Taan.
“Where can I wash? I stink!”
‘Well at least the boy’s clean.’ Shaleen thought. ‘Maybe that’s the maid in him.”
She decided to offer him her bed-chamber and the services of one of her chamber ladies.
“You can wash in my chamber. Then you will be presentable to my husband.”
“I don’t need anybody to assist me.”
“Perhaps not. But I will see that famous scar and know you for future reference.”
“It’s no secret anymore. Here, take a look. God knows! Everybody else does.”
Without any affectation, Drustan casually lowered the rough homespun loincloth and exposed the now famous feature. All the ladies eyes widened partly in shock and partly in amusement. The boy had technically just ‘Bared his arse’ to the queen. All the women started to chuckle as they realised just how un-courtly and uncouth the boy was. Nevertheless, Shaleen couldn’t resist bending down to take a closer look and Bramana also seized the opportunity. To their womanly eyes, the buttocks bearing the scar were of a particularly peachy and maidenly texture.
It was at that very moment that the men folk appeared in the kitchen accompanied by Aiofe and Shenoa. King Pilus’s jaw sagged with shock and amusement as he encountered his own lady wife, a queen noted for her courtliness and etiquette the length and breadth of Iberia, bent over the exposed arse of a boy already known for his rough, unpolished manners. Here was a chance for some gentle humour.
“If you fancy the boy that much my lady, take him as your stable lad.”
Shaleen was every bit as good as her husband at ripostes. She looked up as she slapped Drustan’s bum.
“A colt as hard used as this one will never be trainable my lord. Best use him for a war-horse or a hacking hunter. He’ll always be a wild thing!”
“Will people stop talking about me as though I wasn’t here?” Drustan growled. “All I asked for was a bath. I stink!”
The women turned as one. In their vast experience with the males of the species, the chances of a fourteen-year-old boy declaring that he stunk was zero. Drustan sensed the shocked silence and cast around bemused.
“Now what have I said?”
The women remained stunned and silent so King Appotel interjected.
“Well. It’s an honest stink lad. Best you go and wash. We will talk with you this afternoon.”
“About what?”
“War I’m sorry to say,” King Pilus added, “My cousin Portega is mustering his forces as we speak. Yours is an extra sword. And we would welcome your counsel this afternoon.”
“Me!?” Squeaked a surprised Drustan. “It’s not me you should talk to it’s her, Aiofe, my older sister. She helped plot the fight against Blueface. My part was minimal. She’s the cunning one.”
All eyes turned to Drustans older sister who tried to shrink behind the other women.
“Is this true my lady?” King Pilus asked. As he peered between the sister queens who parted for him to connect with Aiofe’s eyes.
“Well; not entirely. I discussed my brother’s part in setting up the trap and then added my idea for us to contribute without endangering my sister Mabina and me. We are but maids after all, and we do not have strong sword arms. Mabina and I used the Angry Mermaid to close the trap as the battle was fought on a beach. We just stood off and fired arrows into the back of Blueface’s shield wall. This forced him to quickly rearrange his defences and further reduce his advantage in swords facing Penderol’s men. My sister and I might only have killed or injured one or two but our efforts distracted Blueface because his rear was no longer secure and he could not get at us as we stood off in The Angry mermaid. My part was small.”
Drustan snorted derisively.
“Huh. Don’t you believe it your Majesty. It was her who suggested an ambush but more importantly, she chose the ambush spot. It was perfect. Blueface’s men were forced into a small bay with cliffs either side where their superior strength and numbers could not tell. They had to turn their backs to the sea then Aiofe’s attack came from the sea where Blueface least expected it. She’s clever when it comes to planning a battle.”
“Oh so we not only have the killer of Blueface but we have a skilled warrior princess amongst our ranks. This gets better yet!” Pedoro observed.
Drustan’s eyes flashed defiance.
“You’re not to endanger my sister, she is betrothed to Magab and I have to get her to Carthage.”
Aiofe and Mabina exchanged surprised looks. Neither of them could ever remember anybody formally charging Drustan with this task. It must have been something dreamed up by their brother. However the ‘getting to Carthage’ bit was true for Aiofe was betrothed to Magab. Somehow Drustan had got this fixated in his head and associated it with his perceived responsibilities. Aiofe gave a discreet nod to Mabina who grasped her meaning.
‘Let Drustan carry on with this sense of duty for it was certainly Aiofe’s hope and intention to one day marry Magab and the contract day of the betrothal was getting close.’
For now however, it seemed that the needs of their hosts were more pressing. If this western cousin Portega had allies amongst the Berber pirates then that made them Drustan’s enemies and that made them his sister’s enemies. Aiofe finally admitted her part in the plan of battle that brought about Blueface’s defeat. King Pilus’s eyes widened with a new respect. It seemed that the sisters were every bit as battle blooded as the crazy brother. He made his mind up there and then.
“Very well Lady Aiofe. If you are good at planning ambushes then I will instruct you to accompany my trusted Lieutenant Pedoro to study the terrain and report back. It will be another week before our forces are mustered in sufficient strength. Meanwhile this crazy, dirty, stinking brother of yours can get washed and heal his wounds.”
He turned to his queen Shaleen and smiled affectionately.
“Your offer of a decent bath is a good one my darling. Clean the boy up and get him some proper britches. He looks like some ragged savage from the darkness of Africa.”
“More like a demon from Hell.” Taan added softly but loud enough for many to hear.
Queen Shaleen turned to the scullery maid.
“You speak as if you know more of him than most.”
Taan caught Drustan’s stark terrified stare of beseechment and decided to hold her tongue. It would do nobody any good to disclose the cannibalism incident, and the boy had clearly been starving that day. Besides, if Taan remembered correctly, (and she knew she did,) the meat he had taken with him and then shared to the starving royal family had also been pieces of the butchered soldier’s flesh. That would have technically made Queen Shaleen, and her children and Appotel’s herald Maguel cannibals also. Best let such dark secrets lie. She just wagged her head and repeated.
“He’s a wild one that lad. From the first time I met him stealing food from the kitchens while the castle was taken, I knew he was a rum-un’.”
Queen Shaleen’s eyes widened with curiosity. Here was another bit of the saga of Drustan’s part in saving the castle that had yet to be told. Shaleen decided to tackle Taan about it in the privacy of her chamber while the boy was getting washed.
Drustan being still a fourteen-year-old boy, did not sense the flicker of understanding that flashed briefly between the Queen and her newly appointed lady in waiting.
As the ladies and Drustan left the kitchen for the royal chambers, Taan quickly reassured Drustan as he limped beside her. She whispered in his ear.
“Don’t worry, I won’t mention the cannibalism.”
“You better hadn’t, some of your priests of this new single god of yours are likely to have me burned or something. They’re crazy bastards and their god is a cruel god.”
“That is not true. Some of them are kindly and give succour to the starving.”
“We’ll see. Now, where is this bath chamber?”
“I don’t know,” Taan confessed, “I was a scullery maid until a few moments ago. I have never been near the royal bedchambers.”
Drustan stared at her and grinned.
“My how the humble have risen.”
“All thanks to you Drustan. I owe you that.”
“No. I was away with the demons when that decision had already been taken. They were just sorting out your replacements and leaving you to resent it. Mabina’s a good girl. She told me how she forced the queen to advance the news.”
“It’s good to know you are twins. It means there is a softer kinder side to your mother’s love.”
“I cannot talk of my mother, she died soon after having us. Only Aiofe can speak of our mother. They said that everybody could see our mother in Aiofe. Aiofe says that you can also see her in Mabina.”
“Yes. Your sisters are alike. Your mother must have been beautiful!”
“Well I am not beautiful. I am filthy and wild. Let us go and find this bath.”
Taan smiled and stared at him.
“Oh I don’t know Drustan; you’ve got a fine face, still boyish but a nice, firm, slender turn to your jaw. I suppose it will grow heavier as you become a man.”
Drustan frowned, unable to decide how to take the compliment.
Eventually they were directed to the bath chamber where Taan was surprised to find two baths being prepared. She was not surprised when Drustan simply slipped off his ragged top and filthy blood stained breech cloth then stepped unconcernedly naked into his bath. It was the act of a young still innocent boy. Taan smiled as she realised that for all the boy’s feminine features and fearsome reputation as a soldier and sailor, he was still at heart a boy and a fairly immature one when it came to those things that separated adults from children. The only thing he did do of note was to reverentially place his long blood-stained dagger in the bath beside him. This was the famous dagger that had finished the dreaded Blueface. She wondered why he seemed to give it a token washing alongside his body and if there was some significance to his act of cleansing.
As Drustan lowered himself into the water and completely immersed himself, Taan caught the serving maid’s eye. She seized the opportunity and swiftly slipped out of her own meagre rags and slipped silently into the other bath. By the time Drustan emerged again, Taan was modestly covered with the first hot bath she had ever experienced. They fell to laughing as they both revealed that they had never had hot baths and soon the pair were splashing water at each other like the typically naughty children they were. Taan was still a girl at heart despite her early apprenticeship into a life of drudgery. She also had the body of a woman albeit not yet fully rounded.
Then Mabina arrived with a gown and under clothes for Taan and a pair of britches and jerkin for her twin. She caught them squealing and laughing but simply smiled. They were still kneeling in their respective tubs and the serving maid doubled as a chaperone. Yes, Taan’s maidenly breasts were visible, but they were separated by the space between the tubs. What worried Mabina was the condition of her brother’s chest. There was no mistaking the maidenly forms adorning his chest it even embarrassed Mabina and she dearly loved her brother. Fortunately there was no licentious contact between Taan and Drustan so Mabina got down to the nitty-gritty as she charged her brother.
“Have you washed your hair?”
“Uuhhm, no.”
Mabina scolded her twin and grabbed the soap.
“Still a scruffy, bugger aren’t you?” She turned to Taan who was watching curiously. “He’s got lovely hair if he just chose to wash it. Watch this.”
She took the pitcher of hot water being proffered by the serving maid and grabbed Drustan by the scalp.
“Oooowww. You stupid cow. Easy sis! That’s my sword wound!!”
“Oh. Sorry brother.”
Tenderly she ran her fingers through the hair and saw the extant of the wound as she noted Shenoa’s needlework. Then she wet the hair and worked the soap deep into it's golden strands. The wound stung as the hot water gently poured down over Drustans shoulders but even Taan gasped at the amount of blood and dirt that sluiced off Drustans hair. Despite having cleaned the wound when stitching it, Shenoa had not had time to wash Drustans whole scalp. Days of soil, blood, sweat and kitchen ash flushed out of Drustan’s hair until it presented as almost another colour. Taan gasped at the impossible fairness of Drustan’s hair. It was paler even than Mabina or Aiofe’s notably golden heads. As Mabin gently massaged the soap through her brother’s tender scalp the hair became even paler. Taan gasped as the long tendrils of corn coloured hair cascaded over the boy’s shoulders. A total contrast to her own glossy black crown that was now emerging from the herbal shampoo that Mabina had given her. As Taan rinsed her hair Mabina took the remaining herbal and gave her brother’s head a final wash. Even the serving maid’s eyes widened. The boy had a more spectacular head of thick ash blond hair than even his two sisters. That, coupled with the boy’s immature, fine-lined jaw gave him an even more feminine appearance. As Mabina rinsed her brother’s hair, Taan took the opportunity to step out of the bath and slip into the beautiful clothes that Mabina had brought. She caught herself preening herself in the mirror until she got a brief glimpse of Drustan emerging. It seemed that Mabina was well used to seeing her brother’s body for neither seemed at all concerned. Drustan took a towel from the serving maid, dried himself and dressed before turning again to his sister.
“You’re not going to make me comb it are you. It’s clean, isn’t that enough?”
Mabina simply slapped the comb into his hands and pointed to the stool beside Taan.
“You’re going to meet two queens, formally, as a guest in their most private bed chambers. This is probably the last time you’ll be allowed into a lady’s chamber as a child. It is midsummer’s day tomorrow, our day of ascendency to adulthood our fifteenth summer. You’ll be of an age to be counted amongst men, properly that is, by law and convention. We will no longer be allowed to meet as we just have. You will no longer be allowed to enter a lady’s bedroom without chaperones.
This is the last time that our mother’s reputation for her children will count for anything. I won’t have you besmirching our mother’s reputation by appearing before two illustrious queens like a vagabond. Now comb your hair.
“I’ve never besmirched our mother’s reputation,” Drustan protested.
“No. Not by your behaviour or reputation. I can vouch you are brave and honest and kind, but if you are ever to find a wife, you have nothing but your reputation. Our lands are forfeit we are poor. If you are clean in body as well as spirit, you’ll have a better chance of a wife!”
“Huh! I’ll probably be dead before I reach an age to marry.”
“Yes. The way you constantly fight, you probably will die before long, - but not before you fulfil your self-made promise to deliver Aiofe to her beloved Magab.”
Taan gasped in shocked disbelief at Mabina’s apparent acceptance of Drustan’s suicidal perspective. Mabina sensed Taan’s shock and explained.
“We are children without parents, from a clan that was massacred, of a tribe without a land, and now a defeated people. Once Aiofe is settled and wedded to Magab, Drustan and I must make our own way or ways. There is no certainty in our lives. All I have is my supposed beauty, my learning and my numbers, all my brother has is his ship and his sword and the same numbers. I must find a husband or a safe haven, Drustan will probably have to hire out his sword until he either dies in battle or collapses at the sweep of some filthy stinking slave galley.”
“But you could live here.” Taan protested. “King Pilus would gladly offer you a living and maybe even land.”
Drustan intervened as he gently tested the hair on his torn flap of scalp. It was sore.
“I want our own land back. The land that Blueface’s hordes have stolen. The land of my fathers.”
“And that’s a tall order.” Mabina finished, for she also longed to see Lleyn and Fon and the Menai again.
Taan fell silent as she finally removed the last few snags in her hair and savoured the long easy painless sweeps of the comb from crown to waist. Drustan’s hair was also finished except for the acceptable tangle of knotted hair where it was too tender to comb around the wound.
Mabina knew the queens would accept that small flaw. It was a wound and badge of honest courage. As Taan decorated her hair and compared the shiny black lustre against her new, beautiful red gown, Mabina placed a metal band around Drustan’s head and the hair was simply stopped from brushing forward into his eyes. Otherwise it simply hung in a thick mass down his shoulders. Its brilliant pale, golden colour alone would make all the women of the court jealous. Mabina had also noticed the slightest development of true muscle on her brother’s maidenly frame. She felt her brother was truly a paradox and that she and he were growing apart as the mysteries of growth changed them from twin boy and girl, - to brother and sister, - to man and woman.
Mabina new with sadness that she would grow to miss her brother if or more likely when their wandering lives forced them to separate.
Mabina frowned inwardly as she looked at her brother’s hair and fiddled with a few stray strands.
‘If her brother did but know it, his beautiful long straight hair was going to break women’s hearts when he was older, - that was, - if his crazy lust for vengeance over their family’s massacre ever let him get to be older,- She reflected stoically.
With the bathing done to the best of Mabina’s ability she led the pair to be presented formally to Queen Shaleen.
Both sister queens were at ease in Shaleen’s state chambers sitting on high seats that resembled thrones but only served to establish the status of various visitors to the queen’s state chambers. Mabina led the pair in and Taan bowed deeply, to emphasise her utmost respect. Drustan limped in and stood looking at the opulent decoration with mouth slack jawed and agape.
Mabina tugged violently at his arm and hissed angrily.
“Bow you stupid oaf. You are now at court!”
Drustan got the message and promptly made a clumsy un-practiced bow.
Both sister queens smiled indulgently. ‘The boy was not rude, just rough and rustic’. Shaleen invited them to rise and approach her seat. She spoke to Taan first.
“Right young lady, I recognise that you are new to courtly ways so my young daughters will be set to teach you. Do not take any nonsense from them. I have warned them to be fair to you and treat you properly. They are all younger than you and they will respect you! I have warned them on that. You are no longer just a servant, a drudge, a ‘go-for’, - you are to be my lady in waiting. Much of the time you will be at my side and keeping me company. You will learn that much of a queen’s work is boring and tedious.”
“Yes your majesty. I understand ma-am.”
“Well that’s a good start my girl. You got the address right.”
“Thank you ma-am.”
Shaleen smiled then turned to Drustan.
“So what of you boy warrior, saviour of castles, feeder of queens? You are truly a strange one.”
“T’was the least I could do miss. I heard you talking to Maguel about the children being hungry.”
“Yes, but more importantly, you gave us hope. My son Pinipe had already seen the men of the castle slaughtered un-necessarily.
He was badly shaken and afraid.”
Shaleen was disturbed by Drustan’s total lack of reaction to the mention of slaughter.
‘Obviously, the boy was inured to such atrocities. He’d seen more action in his short life than some men saw in sixty years’. She reflected. ‘God what sort of life was it for a boy not yet a man?’ She changed the subject for the talk of death and battle was hardly what her lady companions wished to hear about, especially her young daughters. She tapped her finger thoughtfully and Queen Bramana leaned forward to whisper advice to her sister.
“Get him to talk of his ship. It’s his pride and joy and it will take his mind of the carnage.”
Shaleen took the advice as she led the group from her chambers to the dining hall where her husband and the other nobles were gathering to eat. It was a huge banquet to celebrate many things but Drustan felt overwhelmed. He chose a seat between his sisters and fell into a reflective silence. Shaleen’s efforts to draw him out of his shell were met with monosyllibilic replies. Drustan was already preoccupied with the forthcoming battle to face Portega and his powerful army. Eventually, Queen Shaleen shrugged her graceful shoulders and turned to others for conversation. Drustan took the opportunity to chat to Aiofe about any ideas for the forthcoming battle. Aiofe lost patience and scolded him for his suggesting he should go and fight.
“Listen little brother. Take a rest, take a back seat, your wounds are still raw and unhealed. Look; already your new britches are stained from your leg wound. Even the crotch is stained. You should have lain abed for another couple of days to rest that leg. You’re still limping aren’t you? Now when this banquet is over, get some rest for once.”
Mabina reinforced their older sister’s advice and secretly, Drustan was glad to take it. King Pilus had one of the courtiers’ direct Drustan to a bedroom and the boy was asleep as his head hit the pillow. Explanations about the various parts Drustan had played in the recapture of the castle would have to wait.
Whilst he slept the clock around, Aiofe joined with Pedoro and Maguel as a reconnoitring party was sent out to help prepare a battle plan. Pilus’s cousin Portega had been preparing his treacherous plan for several years and he had a powerful force at his command. It was taking time for Pilus and Appotel to muster sufficient forces at short notice for King Dorian’s allies from the north were nowhere near ready to join forces. The outcome of any battle was by no means certain.
When they returned from their first reconnoitre the three had little good news to impart. Portega was well established at the approaches to the Pass of Talave and that served as a turn-key to the central regions of Pilus’s kingdom. Whoever held that Pass could control nearly all the traffic passing from south and west into Central Iberia. Portega had always known that his wealth and access to the rest of the old Roman Empire would be better served if the pass was in his hands. Holding it would also control Pilus’s influence and association with other tribes and kingdoms like Appotel’s Turdetani tribe. Clearly, Portega’s plan was to somehow separate the two kingdom’s physical contact and eventually destroy the central alliance. Capture of the pass of Talave would be a huge step in forwarding Portega’s ambition. His having camped at the approaches to the pass already meant that he had invaded Pilus’s kingdom and that was a de-facto declaration of war.
Pilus had to act quickly. The recapture of his castle had given Appotel and him some breathing space but not much. Appotel’s main force was still on the march and several days away from reinforcing Pilus’s meagre border force that held the pass. Pilus’s main army also had to march west to meet Portega’s force.
In an ideal world, if Appotel’s army and Pilus’s army could squeeze Portega from the South and the east, they had a strong chance of victory but for the present, Portega had the advantage. He was already in position and nearly ready to attack the pass.
With further situation reports bringing such bad news the council of war went badly. Pilus and Appotel could not agree on a strategy that would work in time to allay Portega’s attack for indeed there was no viable strategy available. Unless the garrison at the pass put up a heroic resistance, it would fall.
The mood in Pilus’s castle darkened as hasty preparations went apace to reinforce the pass and troops arrived piecemeal and underequipped.
All was not lost however for Aiofe had spotted a possible subterfuge to lure Portega’s forces into a trap. After Pilus had led his army out of the castle and Appotel had dashed south by a steep mountain path to meet and lead his own forces coming north, the great castle at Toledo was virtually empty of men at arms. For Pilus, the rapid reinforcement of the pass had been an ‘all or nothing’ strategy. He had been forced to denude the castle of virtually all its remaining garrison. Only the women folk and those essential to the castle’s basic operation remained. Drustan found himself as but one warrior recovering from his wounds as the women fretted on the outcome of the battle. Strangely though, he still had his older sister Aiofe and his twin Mabina for company. He remarked upon this on the third day after the kings’ departures as he walked without limping for the first time. Risen at last properly from his hospital bed he dined for the first time without serious pain with his sisters and Shenoa and the other ladies in the great hall. The only other male at the table was Gontala, Pilus’s youngest son who would now sport a permanent scar on his shoulder.
Amongst the sombre diners, Drustan spoke softly to Aiofe.
“I would have thought you would be helping King Pilus.”
Aiofe shrugged. Celtiberian men tended to have a chauvinistic macho attitude towards their women and Pilus had compelled Aiofe to remain with the rest of the women. His reasons had not been entirely chauvinistic because Pilus knew his chances of holding the pass were genuinely slim and no alternative strategies or tactics had been determined. It looked like a simple, hard, bloody close quarters fight and Pilus could only trust to his garrison holding the best positions in the pass in the first place to stop or at least delay Portega’s superior forces’ advance.
As the other women talked of escape to the east and the north if the situation became grave, Aiofe talked quietly and at length with Mabina, Drustan, Shenoa and Gontala. These were the only remaining occupants of the castle, apart from Taan, who had any idea of fighting. Taan was bound by her new station of ‘Lady in Waiting’, to remain close by her queen’s side.
After the meal was finished, Drustan spoke with the others.
“Perhaps if we went back to the pass and had another look.”
“Yes I’d like to,” Aiofe replied, “there were several situations I wanted to look at further but Pedoro and Maguel were anxious to get back with the situation as it stood. They were more interested in counting numbers than looking for traps and snares.”
“Ambushes, you mean.” Drustan smiled knowingly.
“Not much chance of that brother,” Aiofe confessed. “Pedoro and Maguel were right on that score. It would be virtually impossible to ‘ambush’ such a large army. The head of the army would be emerging from the Eastern end of the pass before the tail had entered the western end.”
“And that would require a large number of our men lining the full length of the pass.” Drustan concluded correctly.
“Men Pilus hasn’t yet got. Nobody was prepared for war.” Aiofe finished.
“So, it's another stratagem then sister?”
“That’s why I wanted to study the terrain more. There must be something but I need to have a proper look.”
Drustan, ever ready for action stood stiffly from the fireside where they had been talking after the queens and their ladies had left.
“So, we need to go and look. Come on. No time like now.”
Aiofe was slightly startled by Drustan’s unseemly haste but she could see the need. Knowledge and speed were paramount to the success of any plan. She glanced at Mabina, Shenoa and Gontala who shrugged unconcernedly. For them anything was better than just hanging around in an undefended castle. Without any words of farewell or forewarning, the five slipped out of the castle with but a few essential supplies loaded onto a single accompanying pack-horse. Nobody challenged them because the town was unguarded, all the men at arms having been called away by King Pilus. By the morning, the five of them were on a high ridge that looked down on the pass and gave a panoramic view of Portega’s massed forces on the western side of the steep ridge whilst Pilus’s forces were slowly gathering on the east. The small picket force of Pilus’s men on the ridge had recognised Shenoa and Gontala as they climbed the steep narrow path to the crest and they had let the party into their encampment.
“So what brings you here my lady Shenoa?” The sergeant of the guard asked for the picket was so small as to not warrant an officer.
“These three are skilled in subterfuge and ambush.” Shenoa replied as her hand wave encompassed Aiofe, Mabina and Drustan.
“And what ambush do you envisage from this distance? We are out of arrow range. Our job is simply to watch and report.”
Aiofe studied the Sergeant’s platoon and asked.
“So why then do you need a dozen men. Two, or three at most is all that’s needed.”
“In case that damned Portega tries to take this vantage point. We can at least put up a fight.”
Aiofe kept her counsel. Looking over the gorge she had spotted something across the gorge with potential so she asked the sergeant.
“That narrow hanging valley. Does the river always flow over that water-fall?”
One of the sergeant’s men who had been born and raised around the pass nodded.
“It’s fed by a large spring that flows all the time. It’s one of the reasons the pass is additionally important. The spring never dries up, even in the hottest summers.”
“Show me.” Aiofe ordered as Drustan’s equally sharp tactical eye studied the water-fall and began to suspect Aiofe’s plan.
The hanging valley opened onto the narrowest part of the pass where the road and the main river shared the narrow bottom and were but meters apart. The river flowed wildly for a few hundred meters and much of that wild flow was accountable to the spring fed waterfall that plunged into the river to give it such force. Where the waterfall fed into the river, a high narrow bridge
crossed the gorge and under the bridge the joining rivers met in frenzy of white water. The bridge’s size was severely constrained by the valley’s narrowness and the meeting of the two rivers. The narrow bridge would also serve Aiofe’s plan. It was a choke point where it provided the only practical access point into the heart of the pass. However, Portega’s men had recognised the importance of holding the bridge to march their armies into the pass. An earlier, unexpected raid had beaten off the undermanned garrison and now Portega held the bridge. The site was nearly a mile below the garrison fort and actually out of sight because of the twists in the pass.
After some brief negotiation with Shenoa and Gontala employing their noble status Aiofe managed to get the sergeant to release the local picket soldier to accompany Aiofe and the others across the pass to the hanging valley. They crossed at night above the enemy occupied bridge and studied the valley in moonlight to avoid being seen by either army or its scouts. As they stood by the spring, Aiofe turned to the picket soldier.
“Is this flow constant?”
“Yes Ma-am, my village depends upon it.”
“Your village!?” The startled Aiofe repeated.
“Yes Ma-am. As I said I was born and bred around here.”
“Oh! This gete's better and better! How do the people of the village feel about this forthcoming battle?”
“They are fearful Ma-am. A score of summers ago, this land was invaded by Portega’s people and we were treated cruelly. His reputation for cruelty has not diminished with the years. He has not mellowed with age and he is still greedy for land and power.
Then King Pilus’s father, King Pilip, won it back. He kept the pass and these lands high in the mountains as part of the treaty of the Olive Groves. We have always been Capetani people.”
“So the village is loyal to King Pilus then?” Aiofe concluded.
“Of course! Who questions our loyalty?” The picket soldier asked, fearful that he was possibly having his own loyalty questioned as well as that of his village.
Aiofe quickly reassured him.
“No, no. I trust you. Can I trust the village?”
“Yes Ma-am.”
“Oh stop calling me Ma-am as though I’m some sort of royalty or nobility. I am of common stock just such as you.”
“Very well Ma, - so what shall I call you?”
“I am Aiofe; plain and simple Aiofe.”
The soldier smiled and visibly relaxed. Shenoa and Gontala smiled to doubly re-assure the man as Aiofe started to look down the valley. Drustan followed her gaze and remarked quietly so others would not hear.
“Thinking of an ambush sister?”
“Sort of,” Aiofe replied, “maybe an untimely flood to wash away that flimsy bridge just after half of Portega’s army has crossed. The front column would arrive just level with the fort or thereabouts and then if we destroy the bridge after the front half has crossed, the back half won’t be able to reinforce his attack because the pass is impassable without the bridge. Just look at the raging torrent in the gorge. It’s virtual chasm! The road is the only way forward for heavy equipment and carts. We will split Portega’s forces and make it easier for Pilus to hold the pass until Appotel arrives.
“But Portega already holds the bridge. How will we get to it?”
“We don’t have to. If we dam the stream up here overnight so that Portega’s men don’t realise the flow is reduced then we can release the dammed up waters and the raging wave of water will surge over the falls and smash away the bridge.”
“It’ll take a lot of water and a pretty big dam.” Drustan observed.
“So. We have all the villagers to help if our comrade is right. We can build a sluice dam, put a sluice in it then release it at the best moment. Let’s talk with the soldier.”
The picket soldier listened avidly as Aiofe explained then he grinned enthusiastically.
“My village would willingly help. Shall I alert them now?”
“Sooner the better. Portega will be scouting these mountains even as we speak. We still hold the high ground but it’s thinly garrisoned.”
“That I know right well lady.” The soldier concurred thoughtfully. “There isn’t even a garrison in my village. We must defend ourselves If Portega’s scouts find the way up here. However we have the path protected and it will be difficult for troops to get up the path from Portega’s side. The escarpment is very steep and the path nothing but a single foot track.”
The plan was quickly set in place and by the noon hour a useful wooden fence was stretched across the stream with a sluice gate arrangement. It simply remained to drop the sluice board into the slot and the stream would quickly back up. Overnight a huge pond would appear behind the dam. It was at this point that a village elder approached Drustan and Aiofe as they were putting the finishing touches to the trap. The sluice would be lifted at the critical moment when Portega’s army passed over the bridge to cut his forces in half.
The village elder had a suggestion that he put to Drustan, thinking that Drustan was the leader. Drustan immediately pointed him towards Aiofe who had stopped to eat with the rest of the labouring villagers. Her physical efforts had impressed the villagers to superhuman efforts and everybody sat eating as they viewed the dam with satisfaction. For now the water still flowed freely and there was no indication to Portega’s troops that a dam even existed high up in the hanging valley. The village elder explained.
“My lady, if we were to stack up a large thin wall of boulders balanced on the rim of the waterfall. When the flood surged over the lip it would carry the boulders down onto the bridge and double the probability of destroying the bridge.”
Aiofe thought about the plan and looked for flaws.
“The troops might look up and see it.”
“Not if we place it back far enough. If it is flimsy and precariously balanced, the torrent will carry boulders along but a few meters to tumble over the fall.”
“And what of the noise of construction?”
“If we erect it as the vanguard crosses the bridge the noise of the battle train will drown out our efforts. Another thing is to gradually reduce the flow over as long a period as possible to disguise the reduction in flow. They will think we are taking the water for irrigation. It is mid-summer after all. Our crops need water. We won’t need many stones to build the wall. The falls are high and the impact will be immense. I have seen what floods can do in this pass. The power of water and debris is un-stoppable.”
Aiofe liked the plan and turned to the villagers who had worked hard.
“It will mean toiling with big boulders for the rest of this day.”
“We are willing my lady,” the elder countered, “we are farmers and used to moving stones from our fields. This is high mountain pasture; the ground is rocky and stony. Besides it will be getting more rocks out of our fields. Every villager will benefit.”
Aiofe smiled. The old man was wise and shrewd. She asked for a show of hands and the response was unanimous. Wearily she stood to join the men but the old man restrained her.
“No young lady. You and your companions have done enough. You are tired. I know that the boy is named Drustan Scar-arse who still carries wounds and the rest of you are but maids and a child. Let us village men do this. We farmers know how to build a fragile unstable wall.”
Aiofe was grateful for the rest, she had not slept throughout the previous day and night and it was already approaching the second evening without sleep. Her companions were equally tired. As she and her companions slept the villagers toiled manfully. By morning she and Drustan awoke to find their plans had been completed not a moment too soon. As the group peered secretively over the rim of the falls, they saw the dust rising from Portega’s army. The greedy tyrant was on the march. Aiofe was also much pleased to see that the dam was full. The villagers had diverted the water they were extracting for irrigation back into the stream below the dam. Whilst the dam was filling the flow over the falls had hardly changed. Aiofe had not thought of this but the villagers were experts in water management. Aiofe smiled to realise that the trap was already primed and the soldiers below were blissfully unaware for their casual behaviour betrayed their ignorance. Had they but known of the horror about to befall them they would have sent troops to attack the dam and warned their king Portega of the trap. Aiofe hugged herself and her brother. The plan was working. The villagers were not content with their efforts and continued to stack stones at every strategic place to cast down onto the troops below.
However Portega was not completely ignorant of the dangers of the pass. Already a detachment of his light mountain troops were approaching the narrow path with a view to taking the heights above the pass. The villagers guarding the narrow foot-path faced an implacable foe as did the sergeant and his tiny garrison on the opposite side of the pass. Portega had made careful preparations.
As Aiofe, Drustan and the rest of the party returned from the falls one of the villagers approached the group and spoke to the village elder. He had come from the defenders of the path and his news was bad. He seemed reluctant to talk with Aiofe and Drustan listening.
“You make speak with us all man. Out with it.”
“Bad news sir. There is a large troop coming up the path, we are vastly outnumbered.”
The elder turned to Aiofe.
“Have you any plan?”
Aiofe stood thoughtfully looking over their careful preparations. The trap must be sprung or all was lost. The path had to be held. But Portega would not move until he was certain of a safe passage through the narrowest part of the pass. That would mean somehow convincing Portega that his troops had taken the heights and the village. She turned to the village elder with a grave expression.
“We have to beat the troop and none of them must escape.” She turned to the messenger.
“Give us an estimate. How many troops are there?”
“About a hundred miss.”
Then she turned to village elder.
“How many men have we in the whole village?”
“About one hundred but we are poorly armed.”
“But we are above the attackers and defending the path. We also have the element of surprise so the odds are not too bad. What of the women and children?”
The old man’s eyes widened nervously.
“Are you serious?”
“Never more so. If I and Mabina can fight, so can your women. Shenoa also fights and she is Capetani, just like your women.”
“But what must they do?”
“Throw rocks down onto the attacking troops. The more rocks the women throw down, the more of the tyrant’s soldiers that are injured. Sometimes, the simplest tactics work best.”
“And if we fail?”
“We die, just as if we had never fought and simply surrendered. You said it yourself. Portega is a monster.”
The village elder nodded sagely. Aiofe’s logic was cruelly accurate. There was little option but to fight. With shoulders slumped, he trudged to the village and gave the bad news. Every able-bodied person would have to fight. They simply could not afford to lose. Having established the reality. The villagers set about loading rocks up on the high ledges overlooking the path. The women were to wait high above and just fling down the rocks and then anything else they could bring to hand whilst the men had to somehow block the path. Aiofe’s wickedly accurate long bow would serve as an important deterrent. Mabina’s lesser bow would contribute its share to the hoped for massacre while Shenoa and Gontala also had bows to add to the destruction.
Drustan and the single soldier from the Sergeant’s picket line would set themselves further down the path to let the troops go past and then prevent any messengers or retreating soldiers from returning to Portega to advise of the progress or failure. They chose a particularly narrow piece of path that clung to the edge of the rock as the choke point to confront any retreating soldiers.
Aiofe’s desperate plan was to hopefully destroy the troop whilst Portega would not learn of it. Then the villagers could steal their uniforms and make a pretence of the high ridge having been captured. Her only problem was that she had no idea of any signals that might carry the message to Portega. If they could extract this information out of a captured enemy prisoner, then it would double their hopes of the plan succeeding. With the first trap set, the villagers could but wait.
As the marching troop approached, the villager’s nerves began to fray. Just standing and waiting played havoc with their resolve. Aiofe heard several women start to weep nervous tears and it took great resource to go about them offering encouragement and support. She was just as fearful herself of the uncertain outcome but she dared not show it. Eventually the head of the column reached the ambush zone and Aiofe launched the attack. A hail of stones and arrows poured down upon the column as it slowly wound its way up the most tortuous part of the path. The column’s advance faltered for a moment then the encouragement of the better armoured officers gave the troops heart and they advanced again. This second advance also faltered but by now the women had exhausted their arsenal of stones.
It was left to Aiofe and the other bowmen to halt the advance. The battle swayed to and fro for nearly an hour before Aiofe dared to hope that they might be winning. Eventually the column was forced to a halt and the remaining troops were forced to sue for quarter.
As Aiofe prepared to negotiate with the remaining troops, Drustan and the Picket soldier appeared limping up the path. Aiofe sighed again wearily and turned to her younger sister Mabina.
“Go and check out our brother! It looks as though he’s managed to get himself wounded again.”
Mabina pulled a wry smile and approached her bloodied brother and the equally bloodied picket soldier.
“What the hell happened to you two?”
The picket soldier frowned painfully then winced as he tried to indicate with his injured thumb.
“About eight of them concluded the battle was lost so they decided to face Portega’s wrath and tell of their defeat. This crazy bastard stopped them.”
“How?” Mabina demanded.
“Like Hector on the bridge. Except it was a narrow cliff edge of path. A horse couldn’t have negotiated it with a rider on its back. The path is deadly at that point. You were one hundred percent right. Numbers don’t count. One man can face an army off at that point of the path.” The picket soldier continued in a quieter vein.
“Please, after my wounds are treated, I would speak with Aiofe alone.”
“Why?” Mabina asked as she set his injured wrist in a sling then checked out the several sword cuts to his arms and leg.
“After I’ve spoken with your older sister. It’s about your brother.”
Mabina drew a deep tired breath of resignation.
“What’s he done now?”
“Your sister will know first. She will most probably tell you. It’s about the boy.”
Mabina felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. ‘What had her brother done now?’ She wondered.
With his wounds dressed and treated with medicinal poultices, the soldier thanked Mabina and left to speak with Aiofe. Mabin attended her brother whose wounds appeared only slightly less than the picket soldiers. Modest cuts to his arms and legs but nothing deep or serious. She looked at his face, caught her brother’s eye and couldn’t help smiling as Drustan asked.
“Are there any cuts on my face?”
Mabina smiled at her fresh-faced younger brother.
“No. You won’t grow up to frighten the ladies or the children brother. Your face is still your own and you know, it’s still quite a pretty face. Anyway; why do you worry about scars to your face? Many warriors are proud of battle scars on their face.”
Drustan grinned shyly as he reluctantly confessed to a perverse juvenile vanity.
“Everybody calls me Scar-arse. If I had a scar on my face they would all start calling me Scaramouch. There are hundreds of ‘scar-faces’ around. Every tribal leader usually has honour scars or battle wounds to their faces. My scar-arse has made me famous. And another thing sister; it doesn’t do my reputation any good by calling me ‘pretty’!”
Mabina smiled and wagged her head.
“You are too vain brother. One day that vanity will cost you! But you are pretty you know. I suppose your manhood will kick in soon but you’re later than the other boys. Though I still love you and you are quite the bravest cleverest brother I know.”
“By the way how did your fight go? The picket soldier told me there were eight of them to two of you.”
“Their numbers were no advantage. The path is a narrow cliff edge at that point; barely a man’s width. We tied ourselves loosely to the cliff so that we could not overbalance. The picket soldier showed me how. He’s walked that path since childhood and knows every step; he’s also used ropes to climb the rocks to gather bird’s eggs. When the retreaters came delicately treading along the narrow edge it was but an easy task to strike at them and push them over the cliff. None survived the fall for we went down the cliff on the ropes to check. The picket soldier taught me about ropes and rocks. It’s very useful knowledge to add to my climbing skills we learned in the mountains of Y Wyddfa.”
A cloud flashed across Mabina’s smile as she recalled those happy childhood days when her cousins took her from Lleyn to Yr Wyddfa for a summer in the hills. ‘She and her brother had travelled so far since those halcyon childhood times.’ She returned to the here and now again.
“Yes. I can imagine.” Mabina finished as she treated the last wound and gave it a sisterly kiss. As she hugged him her breasts pressed against Drustan’s treacherous swellings and she gasped as she stared at the noticeable lumps. They were quite noticeable now that she had his jerkin off and only the thin under shirt covered his wounded torso.
Drustan caught her gaze and frowned as he held her in a firm grip to prevent her seeking further. He blushed at first then grinned.
“Stoppit sis. You’ll make the other men jealous.”
“But, but brother; they’re growing more maidenly every day!”
“You don’t have to tell me sister. I think I must have offended Rosmerta the goddess of fertility and abundance.”
Mabina frowned thoughtfully.
“Are they sore? I’ve seen you secretly rubbing them sometimes.
Drustan fell into a thoughtful silence then answered nervously.
“Sometimes sis, when Blueface’s wound troubles me.”
“And how often is that?”
“I don’t know, usually when you are gru-, oh shit! The moon! It can’t be. Dramara's call! Not that as well!”
A few comments would be welcomed.
In this Chapter, Drustan finds himself (herself) engaged in war then ends up in personal combat with a tyrant king.
The Angry Mermaid 13.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 13
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
“Not what brother? Not what as ‘that as well?”
Drustan’s eyes widened with despair.
“That! You know. That; - Damara’s call, the goddess of fertility. When you and all your sisters are visited.”
Mabina stared at her brother in shock as the realisation sunk in.
“Are you trying to tell me that you, - you’re,-!”
She stuttered as words failed her and Drustan replied partly in anger and partly in despair.
“Yes. Yes. Yes! The wound from Blueface’s blow to my nethers. His sword must have been cursed or magical. That cursed blade made my wound and it never heals. That must be why! It cursed me with its evil magic so now I must be part maid and part youth! Oh by all the gods, what am I to do? I do not even know to which gods I can pray for help. Do I pray to the man’s gods or the woman’s gods? I don’t know any more. I’m on my own now. No gods to call upon, a secret I must always hide and a chest I dare not show. Who will have me, who will help me and worst of all; who will charge me with being a witch?”
Mabina fell silent. She was shocked by her brother’s revelation and had no wisdom to offer him. Worst of all she had never seen her brother crying, not since their village was destroyed.
All she could do was wrap her arms around him and hold him tight to her as his chest heaved with frightened sobbing. He responded with equal parts of affection and fear as he clung tightly to one the only two persons he could trust.
Whilst Drustan savoured what had become a rare moment of sibling affection with his twin they started to chat quietly. It seemed with all the fighting the three children had got themselves into during their travels, they seemed to be growing farther apart until this monstrous revelation from her brother. Up until that moment, Mabina had seemed to be turning more towards Aiofe, their older sister for advice and support. Drustan felt he seemed to getting somehow ‘left behind’.
He little realised it but his constant exposure to danger and death had been turning him into a cold, insensitive, automaton who only seemed to function as and when the stimulus of danger or battle came around. In quieter moments he had become brooding and introspective as his self-inflicted burdens had time to work their mischief on his conscience. Now he had another burden to suffer and he had no means of addressing it and no hope of resolving it. Hugging his twin sister seemed to be the only immediate course to a solution. Eventually his tears abated and he kissed his sister in thanks.
“Thank you dear sister. At least I can turn to you. Now I suppose we have to return to this cursed war and the other
stuff. Like Aiofe’s marriage.”
Aiofe’s betrothal contract to Magab the Carthaginian expired at the end of the year and here he was in mid-summer, pre-occupied with winning somebody else’s battles and wars whilst yet finding a solution to his new affliction seemed to entering the realms of the impossible. He decided that for the moment, Damara’s visits could be put aside. One had just ended and he had another moon of relief from the cursed pain. He put his mind to other issues more immediately to hand.
As Drustan saw it, now that their family and lands were gone, his main responsibility was to get his sisters settled and secure for life. His own life was virtually forfeit as far as he could see. What father would see their daughter married to a vagabond, mercenary who had only a sword and a ship to offer? And worse yet, a vagabond with a terrible secret.
The onus of Aiofe’s betrothal weighed heavily on his mind and any factors that delayed that endeavour were cause for anger and resentment.
This anger and resentment had spilled over into Drustan’s treatment of the eight wounded soldiers that he and the picket soldier had despatched over the cliff. It was this behaviour towards those eight that the picket soldier was reporting to Aiofe and the village elders.
“Yes mi-lady. When we reached the bottom of the cliff after I had shown the boy how to abseil, we came upon the wounded soldiers. They all had broken limbs and one or two had broken backs from their falls; but six out of the eight would have survived their injuries. It had not taken much sword-play on the narrow path to overbalance them, especially as we were secured to the rock-face as I had shown him by spikes and rope. His actions when we reached them were cruel and un-necessary.”
“Go on,” Aiofe prompted.
“Well he immediately put the men with broken backs to the sword stating that death was better than being a cripple for the rest of their lives. They had no choice; despite their pleading he just slashed their throats open without flinching or showing any sort of remorse. It was cold-blooded murder!”
“Were they crippled for life?” Asked the village elder.
“Well, - yes, - probably but it was the way he did it. No tears of remorse, no offer of redemption, no last requests just a single slash of that razor sharp sword of his and they were despatched. The look of horror on the other’s faces left me feeling sickened and guilty. For a fifteen-year-old boy, he has an inexplicable inhumanity coursing through his brains. Then worse was to follow. We all of us had orders to try and take some of the enemy captive for interrogation as you know. Well he and I had taken the remaining six captive, at least by default. Their limbs were broken and they could not move to defend themselves. Then the boy’s inhumanity really showed its true colours.
Firstly he dragged each injured man out of sight and earshot of each other so that none could conspire with the other to pass false information. Then he started asking each of the injured soldiers what the signal for success was. He asked the first soldier then he went to the second soldier. The first soldier’s story did not tally with the second soldier’s so he went back to the first soldier and killed him outright, no chance to amend the lie to the truth, just a straight, swift despatch with that sword of his. Then he dragged the body to the second soldier and told him of the first man’s lie.
Next he left the corpse beside the second soldier and asked the third soldier for the signals for their success. When the third soldier’s story did not tally with the first or second soldier’s story he dragged the third soldier to sit by the second soldier and the first corpse. They soon got the message as he warned them that if the fourth soldier’s story didn’t tally all three of them would join their dead comrade. I tell you it was ghastly as each man realised he had lied and now faced certain death.
Finally, he went to the fifth and six men who only had broken arms and showed them the condemned men. He asked them the same question and finally their stories tallied. I thought that was it, the last two had been honest and saved themselves. As for the others, I knew with a sickening certainty that there was to be more bloodshed. I was right; he simply sliced open their throats in front of the remaining two and stood watching them die. Nary a flicker of remorse or concern showed in that boy’s empty eyes.
With that terrible act completed he then despatched the two honest men with the same lack of feelings. I tell you something evil has taken that boy’s soul. Yes, he is a brave warrior; especially for one so young but that youth is also what shocks me so. I couldn’t have done what he has done even as an adult hardened soldier. The boy is an inhumane monster.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?” Aiofe asked.
“I injured my arm as we landed at the bottom of the cliff. I could not hold my sword. Mabina tells me my right wrist is probably broken and that’s my sword hand. I was afraid to face the boy with no sword. I tried remonstrating with him but he was immune to my objections. He actually made to draw his sword against me, his own comrade in arms! The boy is wild and bad! What’s worse is that I simply had to stand back and let him do it. My sword arm was incapacitated and no amount of remonstration seemed to get through to him.”
Aiofe drew a long wearisome breath. She had serious issues to sort with her wayward brother. ‘Would he even acknowledge her authority?’ she wondered, for the boy was now past fifteen summers and beginning to show growth. Strangely it was not a manly growth for he grew no beard, his arms remained slender and no body hair grew. All he seemed to do was increase his height. She glanced to where Mabina was still treating him for his numerous cuts. She had removed his jerkin to clean a couple of slashes to his torso. His chest remained covered and Aiofe knew why but as she studied her brother she noted that his muscle definition was beginning to show in her younger brother’s bared body but his waist remained slender and his skin somewhat maidenly. With womanly eyes however she had already noticed several pairs of maidenly eyes glancing covetously at what most people deemed to be some sort of hero. None of the maids knew of Drustan’s awful secrets. Her brother was a strange being.
Reluctantly, Aiofe realised there would be difficult times ahead for she and Mabina would have to use every feminine wile to guide their wayward sibling. It would do no good to just storm in and harangue the boy for his cruelty and inhumanity. Sadly the boy had seen little but death and danger ever since they had lost the rest of their family in the Viking raid. Since that awful day, cruelty and inhumanity was but all he had ever seen of consequence to his life. What the boy needed was a year of rest and recuperation, preferably in feminine company to gentle his ways. The problem was that the femininity needed to be part mothering and part companionship for the boy was emotionally ‘in-between’ childhood and adulthood. Sadly there was little time for that in the immediate present. They had subterfuge to organise with the signals to inform the tyrant Portega that the heights were secured, then they had the ambush to spring when his invading army had partially crossed the bridge. For now, Drustan’s transgressions would have to go unaddressed. With a heavy heart Aiofe turned to the village elder to organise the next part of their plan.
“Take the captured uniforms and dress some of the village men in them. Drustan says the signal is two fires from the highest part of the ridge and another fire on the bluff at the entrance to the pass. We got the information from those other prisoners that we took and the information Drustan extracted with his more brutal, inhumane methods.”
The village elder had already agreed with the picket soldier as to who to put in the uniforms. Fortunately the captured tunics were crimson so blood wounds would not show. As Aiofe turned with the village elder to check the dam, the villagers were already organising their ranks as the picket soldier ordered. They had to look like a troop of victorious soldiers and march with a swagger to convince Portega. The signal fires were a simple matter and soon after they were lit, a rumble issued from the assembled ranks as Portega’s army began to move. The ruse had worked and Aiofe watched with an apprehensive satisfaction as Drustan and Mabina joined her side.
“So we go to our stations then sister?”
“Yes, brother and please, show your captives some compassion, that is if you capture anybody. I don’t envisage our being involved in hand to hand combat as we attack from these heights. Wait until I or the village elder gives the signal. The main part of the trap is to destroy the bridge; any casualties will be a bonus but please, no slaughter!” Aiofe pleaded.
Drustan did not sense Aiofe’s undertone of censure and discontent, he deemed it to be nothing more than womanly pleadings as women often seemed want to do. At fifteen, Drustan was not yet wholly vulnerable to feminine wiles or sensitive to innuendo or tact. The boy in him had turned into an unwitting butcher for want of an adult man’s guidance. The other reason was that he could not accept his own burgeoning maidenly attributes and he felt he had to act cruelly to prove he was still wholly a man. The man he was to become had not yet started to notice maidens in that adult way.
Aiofe watched her brother walking away and surmised, ‘Drustan was missing a father, or more particularly a kindly old grandfather,’ she concluded ruefully. The boy was a becoming a problem. At fifteen, he was developing a tall but graceful body though he still had the emotions and feelings of a child. His reactions to such awful stimuli as war and death were immature and juvenile. He had not learned the value of life. The boy was growing psychopathic in his treatment of his enemies.
In those far off days, there was little understanding of the human condition. The boy for now was a just problem but the man, if left unchecked, would become a danger. Aiofe decided to speak to the sister queens to see if they could offer advice. Then she caught herself mentally.
‘Had she just decided that after this battle she would speak to the sisters?’ Did she really think, subconsciously that they would automatically win this war?’
She shook her head and brought herself back to reality. By day’s end they could all be dead. Suddenly she found herself looking at her brother in a different light, a protective light; as in him protecting her. She now felt thankful that the seemingly crazy psychopath was on her side.
‘By the Gods, how war changed a perspective,’ she concluded as she took her station on the highest bluff.
Her stomach knotted with fear as the clamour of Portega’s army grew louder and nearer.
Long before the sun had reached its zenith the column reached the entrance to the pass and the picket sergeant’s platoon on the other side of the pass was firing the odd arrow at what they identified as the senior commanders. It had little military value for there were but ten men and the sergeant, but it kept Portega’s men on their toes and aware there was a defence functioning in the pass. The picket platoon had been forced to retreat from their original encampment by a troop of Portega’s men but they were travelling along the opposite side of the pass following the head of the column where most of the senior officers were gathered. Portega was nothing if not confident of victory. On Aiofe’s side of the pass, the villagers dressed in the trooper’s uniforms made themselves visible and shouted encouragement to Portega’s troops below. For further effect, they fired desultory, occasional arrows at the opposite platoon making sure not to reach any of their own men. Aiofe had fired a message arrow with uncanny precision from her powerful long-bow to drive a message into a tree right beside the sergeant. When the sergeant read the message he gave them a wave and did as Aiofe suggested by moving in step with Portega’s column along the opposite side of the pass. On the Aiofe’s side, the tension mounted as Portega and his army approached then crossed the bridge. Aiofe counted Portega and two thousand soldiers across the bridge before giving the signal to the dam. In moments the raging torrent was released and a catastrophic wall of water roared over the lip of the waterfall. To add greater destruction it was charged with the biggest boulders men could move and the holocaust of destruction plunged onto the bridge.
In moments, the bridge was gone along with about a hundred troops immediately upon it and adjacent to it. Aiofe’s plan had worked to perfection and the picket soldier approached to congratulate her. Meanwhile the survivors above the bridge now found themselves the target for a torrent of stones raining down upon them while from both sides now, arrows also streaked down where the pass had narrowed to its narrowest point. The troops below were within easy range and trapped like fish in barrel. Once again Aiofe’s tactics had proved the most successful and already, Drustan and Mabina were galloping high above the pass to inform the fort. When they arrived on the opposite side of the pass to the fort, it was but a moment to shoot a message to Pedoro who had now taken command of its defence while Pilus prepared for the main battle. Pedoro recognised the pair and decided to send a recce party to check on the situation. An hour later they returned with reports of the catastrophe facing Portega. Meanwhile Mabina was already racing down the reverse slopes of the escarpment to reach Pilus’s army with the news while Drustan decided to place himself at an impregnable vantage point to delay the invaders with his bow. It did not quite have the range of Aiofe’s bow but it was still a formidable weapon.
Mabina arrived breathless and sweating then soon another messenger arrived from Pedoro at the fort to confirm her news and update it. Pilus was jubilant and immediately set his army to meet Portega’s diminished forces if they tried to make the pass.
Having already suffered a fatal flood, a rain of stones, followed by a final barrage of arrows, Portega’s men were in little shape to offer up a serious fight.
As Pilus rode out to meet this force he turned to the perspiring Mabina.
“You don’t have to come my girl. You’ve more than served your part.”
Mabina shrugged and pulled a frown.
“My crazy brother is up there somewhere. He’s got it into his wild head that he’s somehow going to stop the whole of Portega’s army. He’s got the blood-lust and there’s no knowing what the mad fool will do.”
“Pity for the boy.” Pilus mused. “He’ll probably get himself killed; if not today then sometime soon.”
Mabina started to tear up as she remonstrated with Pilus.
“My Liege, that’s my only brother you’re talking about. All the others are probably dead or possibly slaves in some Viking hovel. If I see him, I’ll try to stop him. He’s just lost it.”
“Well for now young lady might I suggest that you take a back seat. I know of your previous deeds and courage but this is a full blooded battle and the fighting will involve men in armour. Best you join the archers and serve as our artillery.”
“Suite’s me,” Mabina conceded, “but if I see that crazy brother he’s going to get a piece of my mind.”
“Well said young lady, now, might I beseech you to Join the archers, the battle looms. Are those not the first ranks of Portega’s forces emerging from the pass?”
Mabina studied the dust cloud and concluded Pilus was probably right. She was but a maid with a maid’s strength. This was a full blown battle, not a skirmish on a beach. Once again she would best serve amongst the archers with her trusty bow. Her sword was sharp but light and of little use in the heavy slash and thrust between armoured men, nor was her arm strong enough to drive it. Reluctantly she pulled out of Pilus’s column and joined the archers on the flank. It was Pilus’s left flank and covered the same side of the pass where Drustan lay hiding in wait.
Despite the mauling it received in the pass, Portega’s army was still a formidable force. Pilus could readily see that the outcome was still not a foregone conclusion. He silently cursed his own unpreparedness and the delay of his ally from the north. Fortunately he had word of Appotel’s progress from the south and that gave him heart. The rear half of Portega’s forces would not have time to repair the bridge for Appotel’s army would be upon them later that day. They would be more concerned with preparing for battle to the south, than repairing the bridge. Despite this reassurance Pilus sat on his horse debating the best tactic. He decided that it was best to drive forward immediately and keep the rear of Portega’s forces bottled up in the pass. He signalled his whole army to advance at walking speed to enable his archers and foot-soldiers to keep up with his cavalry. The problem was that the cavalry were only wholly effective on the open plain outside the pass and if Portega decided to fight at the mouth of the pass then Pilus lost yet another important advantage. His cavalry could not encircle Portega’s troops in the marshy ground at the entrance to the pass and Pilus had no troops with archers to shoot down from that part of the pass. The villagers had only been armed with stones and rocks whilst Only Aiofe remained with a bow of any consequence to shoot down amongst Portega’s men. Her range and lethal accuracy unsettled Portega’s men but the rate of attrition was negligible. Portega decided to despatch a small troop to remove the threat. It slipped away un-noticed amongst the general clamour of the preparations for battle.
The troop climbed up a difficult hidden path un-noticed by Aiofe and eventually emerged at the crest of the ridge behind Aiofe’s perch. With a sudden attack they had captured her and set off down an easier more open path to present their prize to Portega. They were mildly surprised to learn their enemy was a girl and much salacious interest ensued. As Aiofe was tied securely the soldiers debated having some action before presenting their captive to the king. The officer was hard put to maintain order but he had to. Portega’s intelligence had already discerned that Pilus was receiving help from his allies and the officer had correctly concluded that a girl with a bow and a foreign accent must have useful information to impart
His only problem in maintaining order was that the smallest soldier in the troop, although having no power of command, was Portega’s grandson of just sixteen years. He was a spoilt, indulgent individual who saw an opportunity to explore a real woman whilst she was helpless and vulnerable. The boy was determined to try and explore the beautiful woman that was so close to his grasp and he kept staring at her covetously. Aiofe’s skin crawled with detestation as the boy’s eyes kept scanning her near naked body. Fortunately, the officer had the power to force his will and authority derived from Portega’s brutal regime of command. Even the grandson went in fear of the old king. Portega had no son and the boy was his only grandson by his daughter and heir to Portega’s throne. Sallic law did not run in Portega’s regime. The law was Portega’s whim!
As the troop descended confidently they came under Drustan’s line of fire. From his hidden cleft in the rocks he immediately recognised the captive as his sister Aiofe and his anger grew as he noted her semi-naked state.
‘There had been no need to shame the girl,’ he concluded as he nocked the first arrow into his bow.
Naturally he aimed at the command structure and the officer in command up front was the first to fall victim to his arrows.
Another soldier swiftly followed before the troop realised they were under attack and the sergeant at the rear brought order amongst the panic. With practiced experience, Drustan had already changed his position before the troop had regained its composure and another two soldiers fell to his arrows. Out of a platoon of twenty men, four were already dead or wounded. Drustan was not as accurate as his sister Aiofe. He was however, certainly more battle wise and he was already moving again as the soldiers cursed and searched for their hidden attacker.
“How many are there?” The sergeant screamed as he desperately strove to organise his remaining men.
“Don’t know,” came a fearful reply from the now hidden men as they cowered behind whatever cover they could find.
“I think it’s at least two but I can’t see them.” One of the more forward soldiers called back from where he had ducked behind a small tree.
Behind him the next two soldiers and Portega’s grandson still held Aiofe captive. Drustan could not see the quartet and cursed as he carefully took aim from between the bushes. It was going to be a tricky shot for the foliage was rippling gently in the breeze and whilst this helped him keep cover as he moved, it also interfered with his bow-shot. The shot was too risky, Drustan had to get nearer for a more certain shot. He could not afford any misses as he patiently resumed his tactic of attrition. To this end he had once again removed all his clothes save the loin-cloth, the cloth breast cover, his sword’s shoulder scabbard and the dagger sheath attached to his leg. This gave him much more freedom to slither and crawl on his belly between bow-shots. He cursed as he slithered on his belly and felt the stones and thorns scratching his sensitive breasts but he was forced to persevere.
‘Who would be a bloody maid when fighting a battle?’ He cursed.
Quickly he found himself a better location but he knew that his shot would certainly narrow down his position to the troops. The rest of the troop would have more certainty of his whereabouts. It was a calculated risk.
Could he somehow get to Aiofe and the three guardians before the rest of the troop fell upon him. In their panic they had allowed themselves to become widely scattered. There was a chance. There were fifteen troopers left and three of those were soon going to be in his sights. It all hung on his maintaining his speed of attrition and preventing the whole troop from becoming fully organised amidst the scattering of bushes and rocks. He was pleased to note that the smaller soldier had possession of Aiofe’s bow. However the little soldier was well armoured and less vulnerable to Drustan’s arrows. Drustan’s short bow had less penetrating power than Aiofe’s long bow and hitting the smaller soldier in a fatal spot was going to be difficult. Drustan was slightly puzzled. The little soldier’s breast plate was a better quality; thicker and more ornate than an ordinary soldier’s. He doubted if his arrow could find that fatal mark in chest or stomach.
For want of certainty Drustan placed his next arrow into one of the other guardian’s chests then burst from his cover as he nocked another arrow into his bow. He was grateful for the short bow. A long bow like Aiofe’s would have been seriously hampered by the thickets and bushes as he burst from cover.
Drustan estimated he had one final shot before he would have to resort to his sword, then it was all or nothing. His main hope was to kill the smaller soldier, cut Aiofe free then hopefully arrange a swift withdrawal back into the thick foliage before the others reached them.
He erupted from the bushes as silently as he could but the swishing branches betrayed his approach. By the time he was able to take aim, both the little soldier and the remaining guardian were turned to face him. He knew he would have to face one of them with his sword and this with the remainder of the troop now clamouring to reach the fight. He fired the bow wildly but it only pierced the guardian’s leg. With a curse Drustan realised he still had to face two swordsmen and if they stayed together he would be unable to effect Aiofe’s release before the rest of the troop fell upon him. With every instant he knew his chances were reducing. He slipped his short bow over his shoulder and drew his sword from its shoulder scabbard that he favoured over a belt scabbard.
Now fate took a hand.
The little soldier proved to be an inexperienced coward. Instead of standing by his comrade and meeting Drustan face to face, the smaller soldier stepped back. Drustan’s eyes lit up at the chance and he rushed forward at an angle thus forcing the man to keep turning to face him and thereby exploiting the remaining soldier’s leg wound. He could not turn fast enough for his injured leg betrayed him and Drustan quickly found himself at the man’s unguarded back. A single deadly stab left the man breathing his last as Drustan now turned with a glint of victory in his wild eye to despatch the little soldier.
He cursed to see the soldier holding a knife to Aiofe’s throat for the little soldier obviously knew the value of their unusual prisoner.
“Stop now, or I’ll slit the bitch’s throat.”
The boyish voice betrayed the soldier’s youth and Drustan’s anger grew. He now realised that the youth in the expensive decorated armour was the son of some important noble. His presence at the battle demonstrated that Portega had expected an easy victory if even the younger sons had been invited to join the main battle line. Drustan decided that whoever the boy was, his father, if still alive would learn just how expensive that arrogant expectation was going to be.
Drustan sheathed his sword and drew his bow again.
The boy realised Drustan’s ploy and neatly slid behind Aiofe whilst still holding the knife to her throat. Unfortunately, (for the boy that is;) whilst the boy’s armoured torso was well shielded and invisible behind Aiofe’s bound body, his legs were plainly visible. Aiofe was slightly shorter than the boy but her inside leg was longer. The boy’s legs and groin were clearly visible. Drustan smiled as he nocked one of his few remaining arrows into his bow. He was now but fifteen feet from his sister so he silently motioned to her to spread her shapely legs. As he nodded pointedly towards his sister’s crotch, Aiofe got the message. With one graceful move she not only spread her legs but also lifted one leg above her head to give her brother an even clearer shot.
This move alerted the boy to the danger and he quickly twisted sideways to try and protect his groin and lower belly. His effort partially worked as Drustan’s arrow lodged deep into his thigh. The boy let out a scream as Aiofe twisted violently from his grip to avert any last desperate revenge. Her efforts only just succeeded for the boy’s knife left a nasty cut across Aiofe’s neck but fortunately failed to slice into her carotid artery.
“To me sister!” Drustan bellowed as he grabbed his dagger from its leg sheath and prepared to cut his sister’s bonds.
Aiofe needed no further urging and she staggered forward as Drustan grabbed her wrists to cut them free. In his desperate haste he nicked her wrist with the dagger’s razor sharp point and Aiofe cursed as she finally freed her hands. Then as she grabbed her bow that the boy soldier had dropped she turned to face the advancing remains of the platoon.
She had expected to find Drustan standing beside her but she turned to find him just about to plunge his sword into the boy’s unprotected neck. The intent was obvious.
“Drustan!! Nooo-!!” She screamed and cursed. “He’s but a bloody child!”
“He’s nearly as big as me and he tried to bloody kill you!” Drustan cursed as he stayed his sword momentarily.
Aiofe’s mind raced for a better reason to save the boy’s life. Then she had it. She remembered the officer’s deference to the boy when there had been mention of the boy’s circumstances. The boy was Portega’s only grandson!! She bellowed this information to Drustan.
“He’s more use to us alive, - as a hostage, - he’s Portega’s brat!! He’s our prisoner now. I won’t allow you to kill a valuable prisoner! He can’t run away with that arrow in his thigh! Stand by me here. We can face these soldiers off. They did not bring bows with them!”
In the narrow rocky defile where they now found themselves, Aiofe was right. The attacking platoon could not exploit their superiority of numbers without working their way around the rocks and that would give Aiofe and Drustan time to retreat back up the escarpment to safety. The only complication was that Aiofe wanted to take their priceless prisoner with them. Ever the strategist she had seen a brilliant opportunity to gain success. She knew her problem though; persuading her brother to help the wounded boy up the trail.
‘Once an enemy; always an enemy,’ seemed to be her brother’s philosophy and that mind set extended to the ‘no prisoners’ philosophy that led to the brutal treatment of captives. Drustan seemed to have no concept of ‘an honourable enemy’. Every combat had become ‘to the death’ in his dehumanised, battle-scarred mind. Aiofe shuddered as she wondered what had happened to the beautiful young brother she once had and now missed.
She stepped back towards where Drustan was holding the boy in a cruel vice-like grip and decided to approach him by ignoring the boy’s terrified face and instead, dispassionately discuss their escape. The two of them watched the remains of the troop, (that was still a formidable force,) gathering to discuss tactics. Worse still a small company of archers was approaching from below. Somebody from the main force had realised the earlier troop was hopelessly out fought without archers and despatched reinforcements. Aiofe could see the danger and so could Drustan.
“Our best bet is to retreat further up this narrow defile. The higher we go the less chance they have to outflank us up the steep sides of the escarpment. This gorge contains the only path out of here up to the heights.”
“Lead on sister. What d’you want me to do with this piece of shit?”
“We can use him. He’s valuable.”
Drustan snorted contemptuously.
“He can’t walk or rather he’ll bleed to death if he tries to walk and that arrow-head moves.”
“You could carry him,” replied Aiofe having decided that their need to get moving was paramount.
Her brother’s disgust was obvious but he seemed to be thinking about the idea. Aiofe decided to press her argument while her brother seemed undecided.
“He’s too bloody big and heavy! He’s bigger than me!”
“Alright brother, tie his hands and drag him along behind you. They’re not likely to shoot at you if Portega’s grandson is between you and them. His body is better than armour. He’ll be the best shield you’ll ever carry.”
Drustan’s frown slowly turned to a smile as he contemplated the boy’s armoured torso. It would be an excellent shield for his back as they scrambled up the gorge. Aiofe would have to lead while Drustan tried to cover her back and the captive grandson protected his. He smiled at his sister as he realised her ploy.
“You’re a clever bugger sis!” He grinned as he tied the boy close behind him before turning to head up the path. “You lead sister. I’ll protect your back from arrows and he’ll protect mine.”
“You’d find it easier if you removed his armour and then they wouldn’t dare risk a bow shot.”
“Na-ah. It’s a tidy piece of craftsmanship. Not seen anything like it amongst our troops. It’ll make a tidy memento.”
“Okay brother. It’s your burden.” Replied Aiofe as she conceded his argument whilst savouring her more important victory of persuading her brother to forego the butchery and take the youth hostage.
‘At least Drustan was still amenable to persuasion and logical argument,’ she concluded, ‘all was not lost with him’.
The ascent proved easy. Both sister and brother were well used to mountain trails and heights were never a problem. They were born and bred to the peaks of Yr Wyddfa.
At the top of the gorge they met with a small contingent of Pilus’s forces who were out on a scouting mission to determine the extent of Portega’s force. They had been looking down into the pass and had realised that the small enemy troop were stalking something but they could not see what. When they learned it was Aiofe, Drustan and their precious hostage they concluded the despatch of the captive youth to King Pilus’s ranks was the most pressing need. They lent the trio some horses and an escort whilst deciding to hold the gorge and prevent further pursuit. Aiofe and Drustan were soon presenting their prize.
King Pilus could not believe his luck. He had the heir to Portega’s kingdom a prisoner. Here indeed was a precious bargaining chip. He looked down at the terrified youth who was now having his arrow wound treated by Mabina while Drustan looked on impassively. As Mabina gently removed the arrow, the boy screamed and Drustan swore at him.
“It’s only a bloody arrow you little baby. Take it like a man. Why my own sisters are braver than you!”
King Pilus smiled at Aiofe as they discussed how to take the battle forward.
“I think your brother’s right. Any normal kid would die rather than scream like that.”
“My brother's right your majesty. The boy is a spoilt brat.” Aiofe replied.
“Yes, I had heard. I suppose this was his first introduction to the real facts of war. He’s probably been brought up with women until now. Soft and delicate.”
Drustan had stepped over to King Pilus and overheard the last remark.
“Not all women are soft and delicate sir. My sisters, -“
“Yes indeed, Master Scar-arse. I well know of both your sisters’ courage. Indeed it matches yours.”
Aiofe smiled as Drustan nodded curtly. Satisfied that family honour had been acknowledged and by a king at that. He turned to go and talk softly with Mabina. King Pilus’s eyes followed the boy then he turned again to Aiofe.
“Dear maid, I worry for your brother. He has not grown as other boys grow for he is tall and willowy, almost like a maid. I fear for him because he’s old before his years and damaged for it.”
“Hardly surprising my liege. He carries yet more scars after the fight at the village path, albeit just cuts and scratches. Yet they will leave their marks. However I have hope.”
“Go on girl. It will be good to hear some good news.”
“He listens to reason sir. Compassion did not turn him from executing the boy there and then but when I spoke of hostage and bargaining he saw reason. He saw a bargain, he saw a trade.”
“A mind like an abacus I’ll warrant. He’d make me an excellent chamberlain.”
“Better your captain general sir. He has a good head for battle once he loses the impetuousness of youth.”
“Where you not betrothed to Magab my dear, I might even consider you for that roll. Maid or not, you have a wonderful head for strategy. The letters and reports I have received are but half the truth.”
“But I am a maid sir, what soldiers would follow a maid?”
Pilus wagged his head then looked up expectantly as Lord Pedoro appeared at the tent.
“Ah. Always a good sign when you return. How was it at the fort?”
“It’s secure now sir. My son Sular commands the garrison.”
“And you didn’t want to miss the fight.” King Pilus smiled knowingly. He knew his Lord Marshall of the borders would never have forsaken an opportunity to be at his king’s side and in the thick of it.
Lord Pedoro smiled a little guiltily for his sons had clamoured to join in the main battle whilst trying to persuade their father to just command the garrison at the fort.
“My sword arm is still fit sir.” Pedoro assured the king.
“Yes my lord Marshall, nobody doubts it. However we may yet avoid battle. We have Portega’s only grandson hostage.”
Aiofe could not be certain if she saw relief or disappointment in the old warrior’s eyes. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided it was relief. He had nearly lost one son already. King Pilus turned to Aiofe and asked for counsel.
“Should we try and bargain with this tyrant?”
“It’s always best to try my lord. There are plenty of sons and husbands and fathers who would be better alive than dead.”
Pilus turned to Lord Pedoro.
“Would you consider going under a flag of truce.”
“Yes sir. Provided the maid comes with me. She’s already demonstrated her negotiating skills. She’s got a fine head on those shoulders and a very pretty one as well. I know how easily such a woman can turn a man; even a brute like Portega.”
Aiofe couldn’t help feeling like a sunny day as she savoured the compliment. King Pilus turned to her.
“Well Aiofe? Ignore his silver smooth tongue and his compliments. Are you agreeable?”
“Will this Portega tyrant respect a flag of truce?” She asked.
“I don’t think he has much option.” Pedoro replied as he turned to look out of the tent. “With every hour we are gaining the advantage. Look there, beyond the river. Yet another troop of our reinforcements arrive. If we don’t want to have to fight we had best go now under a flag of truce before our forces are too close to separate and stop.”
King Pilus summoned horses and an escort troop as Aiofe made up a white flag and within minutes the truce party sallied out of the ranks.
Soon Aiofe and Pedoro found themselves in no-man’s-land as the forward officers recognised the parley flag and both side halted their slow advance. Nobody was keen to see bloodshed and soon a party emerged from Portega’s ranks. A pathway opened and Pedoro advanced cautiously. Portega’s officers stopped and demanded a hostage before allowing Pilus’s party to advance any further.
“We have nobody to offer.” Pedoro replied. “We are only two.”
“Can you go and get someone?”
“We already have a legitimate hostage!” Aiofe interrupted.
“Who?”
“Portega’s grandson.”
Aiofe watched with some satisfaction as the other party’s demeanour immediately changed.
“Are you the maid who escaped?”
Aiofe confirmed this and Portega’s negotiator, a Captain Dronus, asked further.
“Some of our troops saw your companion put a sword to his neck. Are you sure he’s alive?
We thought he was dead.”
“No. He is alive, he has an arrow in his thigh but he’ll live.” Aiofe assured them.
“Can you bring him here?”
Aiofe cursed. She was not used to having her word doubted. She snapped back.
“If the boy comes, he comes bound like slave. His captor trusts no one.”
“And his captor is?”
“My brother, Drustan; Drustan Scar-arse.”
Portega’s emissaries fell momentarily silent then started arguing amongst themselves as a messenger was despatched to their king. Aiofe frowned and turned to Pedoro.
“What’s got into them now?”
“They were speaking in their own tongue, not Latin. I have some knowledge of it and it seems they don’t believe such a person as Drustan Scar-arse exists. They believe him to be some sort of myth.”
“They’ll soon learn he's no myth if they meet us in battle.” Aiofe remarked softly.
“As we all have,” Pedoro grinned, “I worry for that boy.”
“Not half as much as I do Lord Pedoro, not half as much as I!”
“Indeed young lady. Shall we produce our prisoner?”
“If we do, he must be well guarded. They might organise a snatch squad.”
“Who better to guard him than your warrior brother? The slightest threat and he won’t hesitate.”
“Let’s not give him the opportunity to indulge his blood lust. I’m working hard to cure him of that awful flaw.”
“Then bring Portega’s grandson with a powerful escort and just let the crazy one accompany them. Portega’s men will then learn he’s no myth.”
Aiofe duly agreed and the arrangement was made. One of Portega’s senior captains crossed over alone and confirmed that Portega’s precious grandson was indeed wounded but alive. It was immediately agreed that there was to be no more hostage negotiations. Drustan was then introduced to Captain Dronus but refused point blank to bare his arse. For the boy the joke had travelled it’s distance and worn very thin on its passage into lore. Besides, Drustan now knew that his arse more resembled a maid’s than a man’s. He had no intentions of further revealing his awful feminine secret. Aiofe recognised Drustan’s annoyance but wondered to herself, how far her brother’s fame had spread. Certainly the removal of old Blueface from the northern seas had been cause for celebration throughout Northern Europe and the story of Drustan’s arse travelled well at many a great dining hall or feast.
Aiofe smiled inwardly as she contemplated her brother’s burgeoning fame, ‘or would that become infamy?’ she wondered if nobody could cure his blood-lust. ‘Nip it in the bud as it were,’ she thought, ‘before he grew much older.’
Captain Dronus showed a lot of concern for the prince and he asked the captive grandson many questions before he returned with the boy’s answers to his tyrant grandfather.
“And is that boy known as Drustan, - Drustan Scar-arse” Dronus asked the prince.
The youth replied.
“Yes captain. That girl is his older sister. She called him Drustan all the time, as does everybody in their camp. He is her brother but she saved my life, he was about to slit my throat.”
Captain Dronus met the fifteen-year-old Drustan’s eyes and recognised the cold, dispassionate gaze that stared straight back without fear or apparent anger. The captain had seen the empty, detached look in many youngsters’ eyes; brought to battle too soon or worse the victim of some awful massacre in their early lives. What he found hard to reconcile was that the boy more resembled a maid than a man. To see such dispassion in maid's eyes was truly disconcerting. Before he left the parley he had one last final word with Aiofe.
“I ask about your brother; Drustan Scar-arse? He seems young to have already forged himself such a reputation. Has he seen much killing?”
“Yes,” replied Aiofe softly, “I’m afraid he has not only seen but also engaged in far too much killing’ especially for a boy only just about to enter the ranks of men. The summer solstice has passed and he is entitled to rite of passage. For most boys’ it’s just an ordeal of some modest trial or tribulation, but for my younger brother it was the destruction of his soul. I’m ashamed to admit of my own blood brother but his reputation is hard-earned and ill gotten. He has killed many, including Blue-face, the dreaded Viking pirate chief. He long ago fulfilled any measure to pass any rite of passage. Pray you never meet him on the field. He may be young and slender, even maidenly, but he is tall and he gives no quarter, I fear for him when he enters the realms of the gods. They may not adjudge him a hero for even after a courageous fight he shows no mercy to his foes it’s live or die by his metre. He just slaughters all those he’s defeated. I’m ashamed of my brother, I never ever thought I would say that of my own brother but I am.”
“But you made him show compassion earlier today when you stayed his hand from murdering a virtual child.”
“Yes, and do you know how I did it?”
Captain Dronus knew he was going to get enlightenment.
“Go on maid, tell me.”
“Bartering, - trade, money; that’s right, I had to sell the boy’s hide, or more accurately demonstrate to my brother that the boy was much more valuable to us alive. The moment he realised this he bowed to my greater wisdom and released the boy. The poor little sod was grey with fear and pain from the arrow in his thigh!”
“This concurs with what the boy told me. Thank you for telling me the exact truth. At least this proves we are not at war with butchers. Will you promise to look after him?”
“You seem overly concerned for the boy.” Aiofe sighed. “I’ll try. I’ll be at King Pilus’s side during any battle, offering advice and dare I say it, shooting this bow.”
The Captain studied Aiofe’s rare beauty and wondered aloud.
“Are you a Christian? You seem extraordinarily compassionate.”
“No,” Aiofe replied simply, “but I am a woman and I abhor killing. The burden of war is an abomination to me and in that I differ greatly from my younger brother.”
“Well I thank you for offering to protect the boy. I must return to my king Portega now to determine terms if there are to be any.”
“So what can you now do in return to demonstrate that we are not at war with a thief, your king, - Portega the tyrant, who would yet try to steal another kingdom. Has he not enough?”
“Let’s not descend yet to name calling. Let’s first try and find a way forward without recourse to more bloodshed. I will go now and discuss terms with my king.”
Aiofe felt a kinship for the grizzled old captain. He did not seem to resemble the descriptions of soldiers belonging to Portega’s army. She watched as Portega’s front ranks parted respectfully to let him pass then she met Pedoro’s gaze as he approached with her brother and the young grandson accompanying him.
“What d’you think of him? Portega’s captain general that is.” She asked the experienced old Border Marshall.
“He seemed to be a reasonable man trying somehow to support an unreasonable cause.”
“Well put my lord, let us all hope the old captain can dissuade his lord and master to forego more conflict.”
Pedoro sighed somewhat wistfully and wagged his grey haired head.
“Me-thinks he’ll fail sweet lady. That tyrant is a wilful, greedy and vainglorious thug. He even treats his own people as vermin. There’ll be no stopping him, I’m afraid. I know him of old.
He’ll not countenance having come all this way just to back off and meekly return home. Anyway, even if, by the remotest chance he did, he would be back in less than a couple of summers looking to grab whatever he can. He’s greedy, and cruel and remorseless. He has to be stopped and now’s as good a time and place as any, while we have a clear advantage thanks to your excellent stratagem at the bridge. Come my friends let us return to King Pilus, I feel there will be no more negotiations. Just gird you loins and prepare for a sudden advance by Portega’s army. It will be a suicidal assault for I have already set my lieutenants to defence and most have good positions on firm ground. Portega will smash his remaining forces on a well founded rock but many will die, un-necessarily, on both sides.”
“May be; may-be not!” Growled Drustan who had been listening in silence to Aiofe and Pedoro’s discussions.
Aiofe turned towards her brother only to see his back and the rump of his horse trotting through their own ranks to find a position on the very front, centre rank.
“What’s the bloody fool up to now?” Pedoro cursed.
“I don’t know. He seems determined to kill himself. Should I try and drag him back?”
“No you job is done here, take Portega’s grandson back to our lines, advise King Pilus of what I think is going to happen, then obey King Pilus, - our mutual commander.”
Aiofe could think of nothing better to do and she reluctantly parted company with the old border Marshall who had grown to become something of a father to her. She left him full of foreboding as he advanced to join her crazy young brother at the head of Pilus’s army.
Even as Aiofe started for the rear, a huge roar set up from Portega’s ranks as the tyrant appeared in full battle dress to strut forward proudly and issue a challenge.
“Let that fleabite Pilus face me in single combat! We can sort this without further bloodshed.”
Portega was obviously seeking one last ploy to recover his grandson without recurse to battle.
Aiofe and her charge, Portega’s grandson, were too far back to hear the blustering tyrant’s words but both Pedoro and Drustan clearly heard the challenge. Fortunately Pedoro was able to restrain the boy momentarily as he explained.
“Wait lad. He knows full well he can easily defeat Pilus. Our king is an excellent man but this butcher is a bully with a powerful sword arm. Too much rests on this pantomime.”
“But he’s an old man!” Drustan scoffed; “look at his grey hair!”
“He’s not that old.” Pedoro cautioned. “And he’s still a powerful man.”
“Then let me face him!”
Pedoro had been half expecting the boy to say something stupid but he was still angered by the boy’s ridiculous bravado. He snapped impatiently at Drustan.
“Don’t be stupid boy! That’s a master swordsman out there in full armour bestride a great horse. What weapons would you choose against him?”
“These. The ones that always served me.”
“You cannot use the bow. The rules of combat will not allow it. It’s hand weapons only and your sword though undoubtedly a sharp Toledo blade is still but a toy compared to Portega’s mighty edge; so put the stupid notion out of your head!”
“What d’you mean a toy! It’s one of your own Toledo blades. It may be smaller and lighter than his but it’s sharper, stronger and I’ll warrant faster in my hands. Besides, look at the ground the fool stands on; it’s wet and marshy. Once the brute is unhorsed he’ll have no mobility in all that chainmail and plate. My weapon is speed and agility.”
Pedoro began to see Drustan in a new light. ‘The boy’s not all bravado and bluff. The ground was certainly boggy at that particular point. This lad was not as mad and reckless as everybody thought.’
Pedoro was the first ever soldier to get a glimpse of Drustan’s astuteness when sizing up a fight and therefore the first to recognise the boy’s remarkable abilities. He still worried about the possible outcome.
“I still can’t allow it lad, the fate of a whole kingdom, nay two kingdoms rests on the outcome of such a combat. Appotel’s in this battle as well. It’s his forces that are blocking Portega’s arse end from bypassing the gorge and coming via the southern route. I just can’t allow it lad. Too much rests on such a challenge.”
Pedoro heard Drustan curse and appear to slump dejectedly in the saddle. It was a relieved Border Marshall who could now direct his attentions to organising his line. He turned to meet his lieutenants and was then dismayed when he heard a roar from his own front ranks. Without even looking he knew what had happened.
“Damn that stupid reckless little bastard!” He cursed loudly. “Somebody stop him!”
Several officers dashed out but it was too late. With little armour and a lighter horse than most, Drustan was soon across no-man’s-land and answering the tyrant’s challenge.
King Portega turned and sneered at the unrecognised rider then challenged the rider’s possession of a bow.
“This is combat stranger, hand to hand and blow for blow. We do not use the commoner’s weapons, the huntsman’s tools. We face each other man to man!”
Drustan had pulled level with the tyrant and though his life was brief he knew enough to trust no man. The tyrant stared at him and demanded his business.
“Are you seriously trying to challenge me?” God’s truth, you’re but a bloody maid, and where’s you armour?” Drustan looked him in the eye despite his horse being almost a man’s forearm smaller at the shoulder.
“Yes. I’m challenging you to a straight fight, though I have no kingdom to lose. I’ll fight you just for the satisfaction of killing you. I will set aside my bow, if you set aside your price, namely title to the other’s kingdom.”
Portega’s eyes narrowed partly with contempt and partly with curiosity. Then he shrugged dismissively.
“Well it will be an extra spectacle for the troops to watch while that coward Pilus plucks up the courage to face me. I hesitate to slaughter a maid but you’re a cheeky bitch and everybody has witnessed your challenge. You will be the starter. Very well then; to the death! Take your place and prepare to die.”
“For that insult you will die,” Drustan screamed. “No man calls me a maid!”
Portega laughed and brandished his sword at Drustans chest.
“If you are not a maid then what the hell are those?”
“You’d best watch my sword not my tits,” Drustan cursed as he turned and separated the agreed distance for combat rules.
As agreed, he hung his bow upon a small tree, then he turned drew his sword over his shoulder from the reverse scabbard and raised it in formal salute. King Portega squinted curiously for he had half expected the girl to simply carry on back into Pilus’s ranks.
“My God! You’re both a brave and cheeky bitch to challenge a king. D’you know I’ve never lost a combat.”
“Neither have I,” Drustan replied.
“So I will know your name girl. Who are you so young and so suicidal?”
The youth bellowed his name for effect so that all in earshot would clearly hear.
“I am no maid! I am Drustan of the Gangani; Drustan ap Caderyn, ap Erin!!! Before you die you will learn my other name!”
King Portega tried to recall where he had heard the name but before he had time to consider, the ‘girl’ let out a stream of invective, swung ‘her’ tough little horse around and flung the animal forward. It was such a fluid, swift movement followed by the horse’s immediate acceleration that it startled Portega. He suddenly realised he was going to be in a fight. The ‘girl’ and horse seemed to move as one and she was not guiding the horse with the reins. The ‘girl’ had both hands free and she was approaching like the devil. For a crucial moment, Portega hesitated as he tried to determine on which side the ‘girl’ intended to attack. He still would not believe that the slender shapely rider was a boy. There was a sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other; furthermore the girl ‘or was it really a boy?’ was swapping them from hand to hand thus giving no indication of her intentions as she obviously controlled ‘her’ mount with ‘her’ knees. Portega hesitated uncertainly as he debated what to do. Then he realised almost too late that if he didn’t force his attacker’s hand by moving himself, the approaching whirlwind would be upon him! He urged his war-horse forward only to hear the sucking of mud at his mount’s hooves. He had stood so long in the one spot posing magnificently in his spectacular armour that his horse’s hooves had almost got stuck. The animal struggled briefly to free its hooves from the cloying clay and this again gave the approaching dervish another couple of second’s advantage. By the time Portega was turning to meet the ‘girl’s’ charge, his hands were still preoccupied with steadying his horse when Drustan was upon him. Even as Portega raised his longer, mightier sword to smash his assailant’s unprotected neck and head, the boy pulled up short and swung his own mount around as he passed in front of Portega’s huge animal.
Drustan had no intention of meeting the tyrant blow for blow on horse-back. His plan was to undo the horse’s harness by slicing through the girth and martingales whilst his sword was still sharp. Once he finally came to blows, his sword would soon lose its razor edge. Better to unseat the tyrant then face him in the marshy ground where his heavy armour would seriously encumber him.
Drustan made his first cut at the harness even before Portega could react. The tyrant cursed as his saddle slipped backwards as the martingales were cut. His horse had reared slightly as Drustan passed right under its nose and this had caused the saddle to slip back treacherously. Portega had not been able to strike over his own rearing mount’s head as the saddle had lurched backwards. He cursed as he felt his seat become unstable. It was definitely first blood to the ‘bitch’ and yet no blood had been spilt.
As Drustan flashed by at an angle, Portega tried another, second futile slash with his great sword but the boy easily parried it with his small round shield that he had nimbly swapped for his dagger at the last instant. Portega cursed as his sword crashed down right on target only to glance off the boy’s small circular shield. His blade just grazed the boy’s shoulder but Drustan was already slipping by too quickly on the diagonal. In an instant, Drustan was passed and clear. He pulled his smaller horse around swiftly and Portega realised the boy was lining up to charge again even before he had recovered his balance. What was worse was that the boy was now attacking his rear. Portega had to turn his bigger horse around half circle even before he could face the attack. Even as his superb combat skills enabled him to do this, he realised he still had no idea which side the ‘girl’ was going to pass. In having no obvious training in the conventional mores of horse-born combat, the boy brought his own alarming, ambidextrous originality to the fray.
Portega could not even decide in which hand he should hold his sword. Furthermore the damnable mud made it utterly impossible for his mount to respond with the same alacrity as the ‘girl’s’ horse. It was only as this fact became apparent that Portega recognised the smaller horse as one of a smallish breed that hailed from the marshes of the Rhone Delta; an animal born and bred to marshy ground. The tyrant now realised he was in a real fight and his magnificent well tooled armour only added weight to his steed’s burden. He had intended to ride forward to firmer ground and meet King Pilus in open combat but the little witch had caught him unready. ‘She’ was now approaching his own horse again; dead centre, head on, in a welter of splattering mud.
“Damn you girl! Fight honourably!”
Portega chose to hold his sword in his favoured right hand because his armoured right gauntlet was designed to hold the sword, but Drustan swerved to his own right at the last possible moment and almost disappeared from view under the huge, armoured head of Portega’s larger, higher horse. Portega felt the smaller horse actually cannon off his own powerful mount but not before Drustan had sliced hard at Portega’s girth strap with his sword in his left hand. Portega cursed and lunged wildly across his own body to get a chance at impaling the boy on the end of his huge sword. This time there was a ringing clash of steel as sword met sword and Drustan’s sword partially deflected the savage strike. Drustan felt the immense weight of Portega’s sword almost break his own sword from the grasp of his weaker, left hand. He felt yet another cut as Portega’s sword almost found its mark. The cut was across his back and not deep but it bled profusely causing watchers to believe Drustan was mortally wounded. No muscle or tendons had been harmed though for the back was pretty much invulnerable to flat blows and shallow cuts.
For a fleeting instant Portega felt he had at last got the upper hand until he saw the ‘girl’s’ sword make a second, fleeting short slice at the rear trace strap of his harness before ‘she’ passed by and out of range. Portega felt his saddle become even more unstable. He tried to shift in his saddle to follow the ‘bitch’s’ course but even the slightest twist caused his seat to slide alarmingly. Once again he was forced to turn his mount either to face the ‘girl’s’ third charge or set off in pursuit. The horse became nervous as it felt the saddle and rider shift unusually and it neighed it’s uncertainty as Drustan stopped, turned and waited.
He wanted to see just how unsettled Portega was so he continued waiting. To Drustan’s surprise he found he was breathing quite heavily. He had not realised how much effort he had put into the attacks nor how tense he was as adrenaline coursed through his body. He watched his own left hand trembling slightly, not with fear but with the sheer tension.
The tyrant wanted to come crashing down upon the ‘girl’ with all the might ordinarily available to his armoured war horse but he was stymied. The mud hampered his heavily loaded horse and his seat was desperately unsafe. He cursed as he wondered just how much longer the remaining buckle would hold. The ‘girl’ had demonstrated an unseemly, dishonourable nature in avoiding a straight confrontation. Then there came an infuriating taunt from the witch.
“Are you afraid to attack oh mighty king? Must I always be the one so bold as to come forward?”
Portega cursed again for he knew his performance had appeared almost farcical to his own watching troops. But he had to find a plausible reply for his conceit would not allow a mere girl ‘or was it really a boy?’ to mock him. He called out now uncertain of his adversary’s gender.
“You are wounded child. I need only sit here and wait until you bleed to death.”
There was a small grain of truth to Portega’s words but Drustan smiled at the tyrant’s grasp at a single straw. Drustan would have had to wait all day without the slash on his back healing before he would have bled to death. The cut was long and spectacular but it was not deep. He could hardly feel the cut as the adrenaline deadened the pain. He called back.
“Okay then. I’ll wait. I’ve given your troops the first two acts of this play. Why don’t you entertain them with the third act and let them witness your mighty charge? Oh, and let it not be a pantomime!”
Portega fumed. He desperately wanted to urge his horse forward but to do so could easily snap his last remaining girth strap buckle. For long moments it seemed like a stand-off as Portega watched the ‘Was it a girl? He asked himself.’ still panting from his earlier exertions. He called out.
“You seem tired child. Should we not call our seconds to repair?”
Drustan snarled at the tyrant’s obvious ploy. He obviously hoped to replace his saddle or even his horse. Drustan simply could not allow that luxury. His challenge had been a calculated gamble and so far it seemed to be working. There could be no repairs. Drustan had to force the tyrant to the ground and particularly, amongst the mud and pools of the marshy ground where Portega’s splendid but heavy armour would continue to count against him. He called back.
“It was you who said ‘to the death’ so let it be!”
Portega was now becoming afraid. He desperately needed to reach the firmer ground but to reach it he would have to appear to be retreating. It was the only recourse open to him so he swallowed his pride and set of gingerly towards the shallow stream and the firmer ground closer yet to Pilus’s front line. Marshall Pedoro had chosen his ground well. His troops were dry and well founded. Drustan immediately spotted Portega’s ploy and he screamed his warning as he charged forward instantly.
“Damn you Portega! Stand and fight! Or charge as combat rules dictate.”
Portega only realised the ‘maid’ was in hot pursuit when he heard again the now to be feared tattoo of splattering mud.
Desperately he swung around to meet the boy but now he knew the boy’s tactics. The boy wanted him on foot in the deepest mud!
Portega set his guard to protect the last girth buckle of his harness and turned side on to meet Drustan’s charge with the buckle on the blind side of his horse. Drustan was pursuing at speed and Portega’s move proved wholly unexpected. Suddenly the whole length of Portega’s great horse was set across his path. Drustan tried to turn aside but momentum took him end on into the flanks of Portega’s horse and directly under Portega’s mighty sword. Both animals collided with disastrous force that proved equally disastrous for their riders. Portega snarled with victory as the boy and his mount crashed into his horse and he raised his sword arm to administer a coup-de-grace. His plan was short lived. The impact of Drustan’s horse caused the single remaining girth buckle of Portega’s war harness to finally succumb.
Even while the mighty sword came down, Portega was tumbling backwards into the mud as Drustan received yet another sword cut. This one however was more telling and Drustan felt the hot pain of the blade cut into his left arm as he failed to bring his small, circular, cavalry shield up in time to protect himself properly. He cursed in pain as Portega crashed heavily to the earth. Drustan however remained mounted and now realised his best advantage was to try and remain so whilst using the size and strength of his horse against Portega’s newly pedestrianised condition. His dagger hand worked but the deep cut made it painful to use. Instead, he drove his sword into Portega’s horse’s flank causing the huge animal to rear up then lurch forward but not before accidentally driving it’s huge rear hoof down on Portega’s plated leg. The tyrant let out a howl of pain but the leg was not broken. The shin plate had served well to save the bone but the leg was cruelly bruised and Portega was severly hampered as he tried to get to his feet. Drustan recognised that this was to be his best chance.
Stunned by his fall and hampered by his crushed leg, Portega simply sat up and presented his sword to Drustan’s horse’s chest and drove it upwards even as Drustan made to step his horse aside. The sword struck painfully into the horse’s shoulder and the horse reared in shock as it simultaneously swerved aside to escape the pain. The horse saved itself from serious injury but the swerve flung Drustan from his horse and he landed in the mud just a few feet from Portega’s deadly blade. He felt and heard the wind as the blade flashed by but inches from his neck. Fortunately Drustan’s original idea now came into play. He rose easily to his feet with sword in hand and turned to face the tyrant who had now struggled to his feet despite feeling stunned from the fall and unsteady on his injured leg. Drustan realised he had to act quickly for with every second, Portega was recovering his senses.
Drustan stood momentarily wondering how to tackle the armoured man for there seemed to be not a single place where he could slip a blade into the man’s body.
A slow accurate stab with his own smaller sword would invite that huge deadly blade with all the force the tyrant could muster and Drustan had already grown to respect that force.
His first act was to scoop up a handful of mud and fling it at the tyrant’s visor whilst simultaneously stepping to the tyrant’s left side. This did not blind Portega but it blocked his vision and he had to hesitate while he wiped the muck away from the slotted haulm. In doing this to clear the mud, he had to raise his left arm, the arm without the sword. At last Portega exposed an opening under his arm. Invisible to the king as he peered through the slots of his haulm the king did not see the deadly strike coming. Drustan thrust with desperate force for even though the armour was open there was still a heavy leather jerkin underneath. Drustan could not tell if he had pierced the tyrant’s chest.
Portega grunted and dropped his arm as he swung violently to face the attack. His armour pinched the notched edge of Drustan’s blade and for a desperate moment it was a tug-of-war as Drustan struggled to recover his trapped blade and Portega kept striking blindly at his nimble foe. Drustan cursed that his left hand was weakened by the earlier wound because he could not use his shield to deflect the sword slashes whistling around his head and shoulders as he kept side-stepping to stay behind the furious king. His efforts to recover his blade proved futile. One of the strike notches in its finely honed edge had somehow become lodged in the under-arm edge of Portega’s breast plate and it simply would not come out. The fight came to resemble a mating ritual as Portega tried to turn quickly in the mud whilst Drustan kept stepping desperately around to remain behind his adversary and clear of Portega’s deadly blade. Then to his relief, Drustan spotted a slow trickle of blood start to leak from the buckle ties securing Portega’s breast plate to his back plate.
‘So the blade had pierced him!’ Drustan gasped as he now changed his tactics.
Instead of trying to drag his sword free he hesitated as Portega twisted again to reach the tantalising target, then as Portega raised his arm to strike again, instead of stepping sideways, Drustan took a huge risk and stepped low inside Portega’s guard directly under the king’s sword. It would take but a moment for Portega to recover his stance grab Drustan by his hair with the left hand and then plunge the huge sword down through Drustan’s shoulders with a strike from above. Even as he prepared to push with all his failing might, Drustan felt Portega’s left hand grasping at his long blond hair.
Finally, Drustan felt his blade break free of its entangled notch and drive inwards with a sickening satisfaction. This time Drustan knew he had hit home. Portega gave a grunt of despair and his left arm fell uselessly.
“I yield!”
“No! You butcher! You said to the death!” Drustan cursed as Portega fell to his knees and the mighty sword slipped from his right hand.
“Then make it quick, but I would know your name. At least let me know by who’s hand I die.”
“You said it yourself. I am just a myth; I am Drustan Scar-arse! And — I — am — a — boy!”
“You! But you are the one who intended to kill my only grandson You! The one who holds him prisoner!”
“Yes me!”
“Please. Kill me but spare him. He’s my only heir.”
“Why? If I kill the wolf, I must kill the cubs; that is the shepherd’s motto. Then the sheep are safe.”
“He’s but a boy!”
“By the gods! You sound like my bloody sister! Why should he not die? He plays at soldiering!”
Portega fell silent and Drustan sensed there was something left unsaid. The tyrant seemed at a loss for once. He decided to take the king’s haulm off and in a swift movement with his dagger he sliced though the leather buckle at the back. The haulm came off easily and Drustan stared angrily at the grizzled face and grey hair that appeared.
“I like to look a man in the eye before I kill him. It is good you show no fear!”
“Just let me speak to my grandson before I go. Or at least let us die together!”
Drustan debated killing his foe there and then but a commotion from Pilus’s ranks caught his attention. He recognised a familiar horse and figure emerging from the ranks. It was his interfering older sister!
‘What did she want now?’ He wondered. “This was man’s stuff.”
and Drustan so wanted to prove he was still a man despite the shameful tits on his chest.
King Portega also turned to study the approaching rider and Drustan explained.
“It’s my older sister, the maid your grandson wanted to murder in cold blood.”
Portega stared nervously, undecided what to say as the maid splattered up through the mud and slipped easily from her mount unconcerned about the mud and marsh slime underfoot. Portega surmised this was no ordinary maid. She rode with all the ease and confidence of a man and she wore britches to put her mount between her legs. The girl seemed every bit as wild and immodest as her half-sex brother.
“Are you going to kill him then?” Aiofe asked with little concern.
“He wants to die with that brat of his, enter the realms of the gods together.”
Aiofe frowned then spoke softly.
“The boy is not to die.”
“How so sister?”
“I made a promise.”
“To whom and by what authority? He’s my prisoner.”
“To the captain who negotiated earlier. He asked me to spare the boy’s life.”
“You had no right to make such a promise. He is my prisoner!”
“No longer brother. He is King Pilus’s prisoner. Royal hostages are not the property of commoners to be dealt with like cattle of the field.”
Drustan swore and mounted his horse immediately without a thought that the wounded tyrant might yet take his sword and attack his sister. Now he had issues with King Pilus!
He arrived at Pilus’s tent in high dudgeon and almost crashed into the king’s lap. The startled king looked up in surprise and shock that this crazy commoner should crash into his presence with neither leave nor courtesy. His men at arms sprung to guard the king and Drustan found himself unexpectedly standing with several swords all inches from his throat. He swallowed more with surprise than fear but still spoke bluntly without any formality.
“The youth; Portega’s boy. Where is he?”
“With your sister twin.”
“But he is my prisoner. You had no right to release him!”
King Pilus lost his patience and snapped at the wilful Drustan.
“You don’t tell kings what they can or can’t do boy. The boy is heir to a kingdom, the boy is royalty.”
“The boy is a coward and a butcher. Just look at the cut on Aiofe’s neck. He must die.”
Pilus sighed angrily and snapped at his guards.
“Take this wretch out and make him cool his heels before he returns. Let him learn some manners!”
As Drustan was dragged ignominiously from Pilus’s tent Pedoro appeared with news of the boy’s success on the field. He looked at Drustan being forcibly restrained by the king’s bodyguard and frowned.
“Now what the hell have you done boy?”
“Pilus is a thief. He’s stolen my prisoner!”
Pedoro cursed and presented himself formally to King Pilus as he asked wearily about the boy.
“Pray tell me sire, what’s he done now?”
“Been rude to me. I also heard what he just said to you, calling me a thief. He could be executed for that!”
“Do you know what he has just done your majesty?”
“No. What?”
“Has nobody brought you the news?”
“What news; no, nobody’s told me anything.”
“Portega lies mortally wounded or at least hors-de-combat. The boy’s just defeated him in open combat!!”
“What!!”
“I do not lie sir. Both armies were witness to the fight. Thousands saw the boy unhorse the tyrant then defeat him in gladiatorial combat. Sword to sword, face to face. The boy defeated him fair and square.”
“You’re joking. I knew the butcher had issued a challenge but I,-“
“It’s no joke sir. The tyrant wishes to die with his grandson. I’m thinking the boy Drustan was coming to collect the boy to execute both of them together.”
“Well that is not going to happen! That’s half the reason we’re at war now because our mutual Great Grandfather married twice and the succession became an issue in several kingdoms. Does this tyrant still live?”
“He was alive when I left him just now but his wound looks fatal. The maid Aiofe had stripped his plate and it looked pretty bad to me. He is bleeding to death and he knows it. That’s why he begged the crazy kid to finish it, quickly.”
Pilus bit his lip thoughtfully.
“Come on. We might save much from this outcome. Fetch Portega’s brat and the crazy kid. I have an idea.”
So saying Pilus snatched his coroneted haulm and mounted his horse as Pedoro rounded up, Drustan, Mabina and Portega’s grandson.
Before they left, Mabina hurriedly dressed Drustan’s bleeding wounds while the king waited impatiently. They arrived to find
Portega laid out on his saddle blanket as Aiofe tended the pulsing wound. Portega was facing a long slow death. The sword wound was deep but it had not reached Portega’s heart. He was coughing up bright frothy blood from his penetrated lung. If he did not die from blood-loss he would likely die from infection. When King Pilus arrived Portega looked up contemptuously at his cousin.
“You would not face me then. I knew you wouldn’t!” He coughed up more frothing blood and his grandson cried with despair.
“Grand dad!”
The tyrant reached out to take the boy’s hand but only Drustan saw the concealed dagger. Portega intended to take his grandson with him. Drustan’s sword flashed out with blinding speed and the tyrant’s hand was severed just as the dagger emerged into view. Aiofe, the closest to Portega, barely had time to shout the first letter of warning before Drustan’s sword had done its work. Portega screamed in agony as his hand and his dagger fell in Aiofe’s lap whilst arterial blood spurted over everybody. Pedoro and Pilus cursed as Mabina screamed in horror and the young prince squealed with shock. Only one person remained impassive and unperturbed, Drustan.
He stood with bloody sword in hand then shrugged and turned away. There was a clamour as efforts were made to stem the haemorrhage until Portega’s croaking voice finally made itself heard.
“Tell the boy to finish it. Only him though, no other. Only Drustan Scar-arse has that right, the right to execute me. I’m dying anyway so make it quick.”
Knowing that death was close the dying tyrant wanted to make his peace with the new single God. He offered some final words of comfort to his grandson explaining that it had been an honourable fight and he was dying anyway from a cancer. He wanted to die quickly and the most honourable way was at his victor’s hand, then, uncharacteristically, he kissed his grandson’s forehead before he knelt. With a silent prayer and hands steepled in the new christian style he bowed his head and offered his bare neck to Drustan’s sword.
Drustan realised his own light sword with its battle scarred cutting edge was probably no longer up to the job of a clean, swift beheading. He cast around for a more suitable, heavier weapon and his eyes fell onto the tyrant’s own great sword. Then he had an idea. He decided to finally convince the tyrant and the other watchers that he was a boy not a maid. Drustan wanted to pee so he slipped his manhood from his loincloth and stood astride the sword as he released his water and spoke to Portega.
“I piss on your sword. It is a tyrant’s sword; a bully’s sword. See now that I piss with my cock! I — am — a — boy — and - you — will - know — that — before - you — die!”
The assembly gasped at the insult but Drustan was past caring. Without compunction or any further sign of emotion, Drustan took Portega’s piss-stained great sword from where it had fallen in the mud and with one immense ‘two-handed’ swipe, he beheaded the tyrant. Then, still without expression, he handed the sword to the crying prince. As the others watched in stunned bemusement, Drustan let out a long slow tearful sigh, mounted his beloved horse and cantered off towards Toledo. He was sick of all the killing.
On route at the castle of Pilus he realised he was the first arrival back from the field so he stepped un-invited to the queen’s chambers and spread the news. Many women, both noble and common, clamoured around for news of their men-folk but none were more relieved than Queens Shaleen and Bramana. Typically, Drustan said nothing of his part and he left again to continue to Toledo before the official heralds arrived. He wanted nothing more than a new, longer, heavier sword to suite his growing strength and confidence, then a swift return to his beloved ‘Angry Mermaid’ and completion of his self-made promise to deliver his older sister Aiofe safely to Carthage’s shore.
After that, Drustan knew not where. Who would want a man/maid with tits, a dick and a bleeding slit.
Comments are always welcomed. Please. They are life's blood to authors.
After the land battle Drustina slowly starts to come to terms with her intersexed bilateral hermaphrodism. Her femininity brings with it wisdom and compassion but she stil has battles to fight.
The Angry Mermaid 14.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 14
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Drustan spent a few days in Toledo. Whether it was to escape the rigours and pressures of the developments at King Pilus’s court or whether it was his own need to have a break from the seemingly permanent pressures of war and combat; Drustan didn’t know and he didn’t care. What he did know was that his stomach had cramped again and the gripes left him abed for a day as he cursed the weep from ‘Blueface’s wound’. However the days of cramping where more than compensated by the sheer pleasure of watching weapons being forged. Then he enjoyed the immense satisfaction of having a very personal input into the forming of his own personal sword. This preoccupation served to garner a real break from the evanescent cramps and everything that seemed to be closing in on him.
Whilst watching the forging of his sword, Drustan was content to sleep on a rough palliace amongst the apprentices despite the metal masters knowing that the boy was a guest of King Pilus and entitled to the best hospitality they could offer. The apprentices had not failed to notice the maidenly forms on his chest nor his soft smooth flesh but his fearsome reputation served perfectly to keep them at bay. To fit him for his new sword the sword masters had fenced with him in the training yard and all had just cause to know his skill. There had been gasps of astonishment from the watchers at this strange guest of the king who pissed like a man and fought like the devil yet sported a handsome pair of maidenly tits. Fortunately, the forge-masters were more admiring of Drustan’s swordplay than any reputed witchery. To have such a splendid swords-man/woman find satisfaction in their weapons was to them the greatest compliment they could receive.
Furthermore, Drustan’s inoffensive feminine charm coupled with a real understanding of metals and alloying them together earned him their respect and affection. As metal forgers themselves they were fascinated to learn that he was directly related and indeed first cousin to the famed Paris Mountain miners and smelters. In the evenings when the forges were cool and the fires low, he would spend long hours discussing alloys and telling of the strange metals to be found in other lands. He shared his own experiences with strange metals except that he did not mention Mabina’s secret rod that always pointed close to the North Star, Freya’s jewel. As they chatted long into the second night a visitor arrived from the kings Pilus and Appotel. Drustan’s presence was urgently needed at the court to make plans for the return to Appotel’s kingdom.
After Drustan reluctantly agreed to return, the messenger joined the metal-masters around their table and he talked of Drustan’s arrival earlier that year.
“Why yes. You came to us by sea did you not lad.”
Drustan nodded, not even thinking of the event but one of the metal masters stared thoughtfully at the boy.
“Did you sail all the way lad?”
Drustan nodded unconcernedly so the metal master qualified his question.
“From the Brithonic Island I mean.”
Drustan laughed softly. “Why yes of course! Where else would I have sailed from? They are my home lands. I am Gangani.”
“And yet you did not stop to visit Portega’s kingdom which forms the coast for a large part of your journey.”
“We did not stop at any coast. After leaving Brithony, my sisters and I each knew that to stay close inshore would invite the curiosity of the Nubian and Berber pirates. We were warned that they raid those shores indeed they have raided as far as Brithony. We sailed non-stop from Brithony to Gibral.”
“Without being spotted; how?”
“By sailing off-shore well out of sight of land.”
“Then how do you steer? What are your marks?”
Drustan shrugged again. To him it was second nature but he had to explain.
“By the sun and the stars and with a rod of Thor’s iron.”
The old master metal smith frowned curiously.
“Thor’s iron; what’s that?”
“It’s a special iron stone, a lode-stone from the far, far north; where the snows lie forever. The Vikings claim it is charmed by the northern lights. The lights are so beautiful that the spirit in the metal always seeks to join them in the northern skies, to kiss with Freya’s crown.
The Vikings say the dark iron spirit was trying to trap the goddess Freya who rides the same northern skies. Fortunately Freya only wears gold and silver and these metals are not attracted by the spirit so Freya flies free. It’s said that the lights are reflections from Freya’s hair as it flies and swirls when she rides her ice horses galloping across the skies. The colours are as beautiful and varied as the sky arches made by sun and rain. The iron spirit tried to trap the beautiful reflections and keep them for itself but Odin and Thor caught it and condemned it always to live in the iron. From these northern lights Freya gave men but more importantly women, colour and the ability to appreciate beauty. Freya made the lights and colours free to all who have sight. The spirit is always trying to escape to steal those beautiful colours from Freya but it is locked in the lode-stone forever. Thor hammered the spirit into the iron and it can never escape but to die. For even if you can split a shard the spirit cannot escape. It remains still imprisoned in both shards always pointing to the north; always striving to steal Freya’s beauty.”
“It sounds like pagan rubbish to me.” Scoffed the old metal-master.
Drustan fell silent. He knew the spirit iron was true. Furthermore he had proof of it on his ship but it would not pay to antagonise the guild of metal smiths. He shrugged and kept his counsel.
“Maybe it’s only a Pagan myth then. The Vikings were always want to boast.” He replied to sooth anymore contention.
The following morning he had to reluctantly take his leave. King Pilus had ordered him to return to the council. There were issues that affected Drustan like a formal rite of passage and ennoblement for his deeds on the battle-field. Such rituals and ceremony bored Drustan but he had long learned the convention that dictated when an anointed king summoned a commoner, it behoved the commoner to obey. Then he remembered something. Mabina had a magic rod that had somehow captured one of the northern iron spirits. She had used it to remove the arrowhead. He said nothing but invited one of the metal-smith journey-men to accompany him back to Pilus’s court. Drustan knew the man had finished his tour at Toledo and it would be good thing if he saw Mabina’s magic rod. It might encourage him to journey to the far north and try and learn more of this magic northern lode-stone.
The journey to Pilus’s court took but a day and both Drustan’s sisters were overwhelmed with joy to see him. His inexplicable choice to forgo the celebrations had un-nerved his sisters. The truth was Drustan found little joy in celebrating war. He made his feelings clear to his sisters who promptly conveyed them to Bramana and Shaleen the sister queens who in turn conveyed them with their persuasive feminine wiles to their husbands. Pilus and Appotel therefore kept things brief. It suited Appotel’s purpose anyway for he needed to return to his southern kingdom to address the Berber pirate issues. After his ennoblement, Pilus approached Drustan about the fate of his valuable royal prisoner, Portega’s spoiled grandson.
“You are now a noble and entitled to hold the prince a prisoner. Ransom him even.”
“But King Pilus; what would I want with a prisoner. I have tasks to fulfil and that entails long journeys. A prisoner would only hamper my progress not to mention threaten my life. I would have to watch my back at all times. You keep him. What’s his name anyway, this spoiled indulgent brat? I never did find out.”
“Portega’s grandson is called Portua.” Pilus confirmed.
“That would follow. You might as well keep him.
“So you are happy to let him live then,” King Pilus confirmed. “For I do not kill my prisoners. If you trust him to me, he lives.”
“Live or die. He means little to me. I’m sick of the killing anyway.”
Drustan’s last remark brought a deafening silence around the council hall. A pin would have been heard dropping. Indeed Mabina did drop her bracelet which she had been twisting fretfully on her wrist and the noise turned everybody’s head. The silence un-nerved Drustan.
“What! What did I just do? What’s wrong now?”
“Ask your sister, your twin sister.” Queen Shaleen intervened as tears of relief filled Mabina’s eyes.
Drustan saw the tears and sprang to her side even drawing his new lethal sword as he moved.
“What’s wrong?! Why d’you cry? Who has harmed you? If anybody’s hurt you I’ll, -“
“Dammit brother nobody’s hurt me!” Mabina squealed.
She flung her arms around her twin brother’s neck and squeezed him to her. Drustan was bemused.
“Stoppit Sis. We’re adults now you told me yourself. We cannot do this anymore. Show more decorum.”
Mabina released him and collapsed into gales of laughter, part relief and part amusement as she addressed the assembled royal court.
“Did you hear that my lords and ladies? Did you hear that! Drustan my brother; Drustan Scar-arse no less, speaks of decorum and actually shows compassion. There is my brother’s true rite of passage my lieges. Never mind the ordeals or trials by combat!
My brother has learned to look beyond killing. My twin is grown mature! That is truly a rite of passage”
Drustan turned scarlet with embarrassment.
“Hist sister! This is no place to air family things. Do not shame what little is left of our family name.”
Mabina ignored her brother and declared to the whole council.
“Is our family name shamed my lieges?!
“Not in this court young lady,” King Pilus declared.
“Nor in mine!” Appotel added then went on. “Your name is honoured Drustan, but you know that for you have just been ennobled.”
Drustan slumped more with exhaustion than relief. He had been living on his wits for nearly four years since the death of his family. He would never have believed it but a tear almost forced its way to his eye. He got up wearily, made a brief excuse and made his way unthinkingly to the ladies quarters.
“Where’s he going now?” Pilus wondered.
“Bed I shouldn’t wonder,” Shaleen offered; he looked all in to me and those wounds he’s received in these past days are still to heal fully.
Mabina heeded Queen Shaleen’s words and followed her brother out of the council hall. She found Shaleen’s words to be right but she was still shocked to find her brother fast asleep in Queen Shaleen’s very own personal bed. Drustan still hadn’t learned all the delicacies of courtly life. If anybody else had had the sheer temerity to just walk into Queen Shaleen’s most private chamber and occupy her royal bed, Queen Shaleen would have had them summarily executed. However she had a soft spot for the crazy fool who had done so much to save her husband and his kingdom. As she followed Mabina to her royal quarters and found the girl wondering if to waken her brother she gently smiled to reassure Mabina and put her finger to her lips as Mabina almost greyed with fear.
“He’s done no harm girl. Your brother’s earned his sleep. Let him lie for now because you have later to get him to understand your feelings for Prince Portua.”
Mabina paled again.
“How did you know of that?”
“I’m a woman girl. Young girls like you cannot hide affairs of your heart from older women. We have walked your road do not forget.”
“What d’you think he’ll say; my brother that is?”
“It’s no longer for him to say. You heard him relinquish Prince Portua to my husband’s custody. I suspect your brother will be more concerned that you do not intend to accompany him with your older sister to Carthage.”
“There is nothing for me in Carthage and I can’t face more wanderings. I want a home. My brother is driven by a fire for revenge. That is neither my way nor Aiofe’s. I don’t think he will ever settle until he recover’s our beloved Lleyn.”
“Is that ever likely to be?” Shaleen asked.
“Who knows? If it only takes a sword, he well might.”
“Ah but it also takes statesmanship to win, hold and finally bind a country. Though I am forced to concur, he already has the
swordsmanship and he has yet to see his sixteenth summer. There’s years yet to learn statesmanship.”
“Provided his sword doesn’t fail him.” Mabina sighed wistfully.
“Yes indeed my girl. Come, let’s leave him. I will tell the guard to let no-one disturb him.”
Drustan slept for two nights and the day between. Queen Shaleen had the unusual pleasure and delight of occupying the king’s bed, that was of course her husband’s state bed. It was no sacrifice for the king’s mind had time to relax and their libidos were freed from the tensions of war and state. Queen Shaleen had further reason yet to like her battle-scarred guest for in the relaxed climate she was made with child. However her gratitude towards Drustan would never be expressed because he would be far away when her son was born.
When Drustan finally awoke preparations were afoot to sort out the consequences of the war that had fizzled out because of Drustan’s intervention. Also while he’d slept Mabina and Price Portua had further cemented their affections.
“But how shall we tell him?” Portua wondered fearfully.
Mabina shrugged for she had no idea how her brother would feel. She gave Portua a tight hug and he winced as she pressed against his thigh wound.
“Ouch. That hurts!”
Mabina frowned at him.
“Crickey darling. That is but a puncture. Think how my brother feels. He has a hide like a Map of all Iberia what with new wounds and old scars.”
“I’m not your brother. I was never cut out for fighting. My father and both my grandfathers despised me.”
“Well I love you. You’re funny and kind and thoughtful.”
Portua embraced Mabina and kissed her before speaking.
“Well, I suppose we’d better go and face him.”
“What! Can’t you do it alone?”
“You explain things better. I’d prefer to have you beside me.”
Mabina wagged her head, but Portua was right, Drustan could hardly hurt his own twin sister. They found him in King Pilus’s antechamber where Drustan had just learned that Captain Dronus was Prince Portua’s paternal grandfather.
“So that’s why you were so keen to get my sister Aiofe to promise to look after him!”
Captain Dronus nodded his head as he confessed.
“Yes Drustan. I don’t believe the boy is all bad. He thinks I hate him but I don’t. In fact I’ve hardly had anything to do with the boy’s upbringing what with him being heir to Portega’s throne. I actually quite like the boy.”
“But he was all set to kill Aiofe! His knife actually marked her throat. He was prepared to murder his prisoner and a woman to boot!”
“He was frightened Drustan. He was facing certain death from your proven bow. Ask your sister, she could feel him shaking even as he held her. And anyway, you killed those helpless soldiers on the mountain path.”
“Not quite, I put them out of their misery, they were dying anyway and they were soldiers after all; and we were outnumbered. The picket soldier and I had no idea who else was coming down the path. Anyway; this prince, - this Portua, he’s a coward.”
“That hurts me Drustan. The boy has never been near a battle before. He was a child forced into a man’s armour.”
“He’s older than me!”
“Yes but he never had a man like your grandfather to guide him. Your grandfather must have been a wonderful man. Prince Portua was a prisoner to his odious grandfather’s ambition.”
Drustan hesitated as he wondered about the old captain. ‘Had the old captain ever been to Lleyn?’ Drustan asked himself.
“Did you ever meet my grand-dad Erin?”
“No Drustan; I didn’t.”
“So how could you ever know what he was like?”
“By the marks he’s left behind him, by his grandchildren. You are a credit to him lad. So are your sisters.”
Drustan felt uncertain. Flattery was a very insidious tool and his grand-pa Erin had always warned him about it. There was a knock on the door and a nervous Prince Portua entered followed by Mabina. Drustan was about to get up and leave but Pilus restrained him.
“I think this is for you ears Drustan, as much as anybody else’s.”
Drustan paused half standing, half sitting with his hand on the table and he turned curiously to his twin. Mabina walked up to him with a boldness born of fifteen years of siblinghood.
“You’d better sit down brother. I’ve got some news for you.”
Drustan resumed sitting and looked his twin sister in the eye.
“Go on.” He sighed, expecting more admonishments.
“Well the first thing brother is that I probably won’t be accompanying you to Carthage.”
Drustan frowned but Mabina was quietly relieved to see that her brother did not seem to be angry or even upset.
“So, go on; why?” Drustan pressed.
“I’m settling down, here, in Iberia.”
Drustan’s brain ticked quietly as his eyes flicked from Mabina to Prince Portua. Slowly he reached the correct conclusion and his frown deepened.
“Is it him?”
Mabina nodded and stared at her brother almost daring him to object. Drustan stared thoughtfully at the floor as he tried to make sense. Then he looked up.
“Are you sure it’s him you want?”
“Yes.”
“But you know he’s a prince without a realm, he’s just been beaten in battle. His lands are forfeit.”
“Forfeit to whom?” Mabina pressed.
Drustan was slightly bemused. He had presumed that Kings Pilus and Appotel would divide Portega’s lands up between them. He indicated the two kings with a nod but Mabina anticipated this.
“It’s not that simple brother. It was actually you who defeated Portega.”
“Don’t be silly. That was just a combat. I agreed with Portega before we fought that there were to be no prizes of land and stuff. If I foreswore my bow, he would not claim title to lands. Thus I have no claim to his kingdom. Anyway, by all the gods of sea and sky, what would I want with land and a bloody kingdom?”
At these words Pilus and Appotel exchanged surprised glances before Pilus interrupted.
“Land brings wealth and security Drustan. It’s a rare fellow who would refuse a whole kingdom.”
“Yeah,” replied Drustan irreverently, “and it also brings problems and war. I’m not cut out to run a bloody kingdom. It’s my sisters who prefer books and figures. I just want to, - hold on a minute. Are you saying the land is mine!?”
“Well that’s the issue lad,” Appotel grinned, “that’s what this conference is all about. What to do with Portega’s lands and crown. You have a powerful claim lad, like it or not. Portega issued a clear challenge and you met it. It was a fair combat for thousands witnessed it. What is his becomes yours by the law of combat. When you forsook your bow you signed up to open combat with horse and sword. Portega’s kingdom is technically yours!”
Drustan’s jaw sagged as his eyes swept the antechamber. Just about all the men who mattered were present plus two important sister queens. He repeated his refusal.
“Honestly, I don’t want it! I’ve other tasks to do. There’s my sister Aiofe’s betrothal and I’m running late for that.
We’ll probably have to run the Corsairs and Berber pirates.”
The meeting fell silent. If Lord Drustan refused the gift what was to be done? Drustan sensed the mood change as kings wondered how to divide up the kingdom. He wanted to escape the oppressive atmosphere but at that moment his older sister entered the chamber. Drustan sagged with relief.
‘Here was someone who would find a solution. Aiofe had always been clever and skilful at arbitrating between her fighting brothers, maybe she could help him here.’
Drustan felt out of his depth so he stepped to Aiofe’s side as she took her seat beside the sister queens. He whispered in her ear.
“Help me sister. They want to burden me with Portega’s lands and kingdom.”
“By the Gods brother! Why don’t you take it?”
“I’m no king; I’m a boat builder, a sailor, a fighter.”
Aiofe studied her brother thoughtfully. The boy was scrupulously honest. To refuse a kingdom said a lot about her brother’s ambitions and goals in life. She looked him in the eye.
“What do you really seek brother? What higher purpose or ambition could persuade you to refuse a kingdom?”
Drustan fell silent. In truth, at fifteen, he had no idea what he wanted. He certainly did not want to be stuck in a big castle all day signing papers and meeting petitioners. And that was the impression he’d got from both Pilus and Appotel. He explained this to Aiofe.
“It’s all paperwork and constantly organising stuff. You and Mabina are far better than me. Look how she always did the figures on the boat.”
“Then let her run your kingdom. If she’s set on marrying Portua then it’s an ideal arrangement. You could take yourself off and indulge in a bit of hunting or something.”
“No, I just don’t want the responsibility. I’m a free spirit. Besides, if she’s running the bloody kingdom, she might as well bloody own it. Petitioners will always be running to me to overturn one or the other of her decisions. Falling out with Mabina would be a hiding to nothing.”
Even as he said it, the lightning struck in Drustan’s brain. Aiofe also arrived at the same thought at that identical moment.
As they read each other’s thoughts, they stared stupidly at each other then burst out laughing. It was King Pilus who brought them to order.
“This is serious meeting. Can we have some order please?”
After recovering their composure, Aiofe and Drustan turned respectfully to the two kings. Aiofe addressed the meeting.
“My lords, you all know that my brother has made it abundantly clear he wants no part of kingship.”
She paused for effect and to confirm that this was accepted by the meeting. There was no dissent so she continued.
“Yet you all wished that duty upon him; you all offered him Portega’s kingdom. My brother and I have much before us but our sister has found her heart here in Iberia. All the ladies in this castle learned some days ago that her heart is captured by Portua. They seem to be well suited and we ladies can see no harm in the match.
My brother rightly pointed out that Portua is a prince with no kingdom, a defeated pauper prince and he rightly points out that it would be wrong for his twin sister to be encumbered with poverty. Mabina, Drustan and I know all about poverty for our own family have been disenfranchised and made poor through losing what little land we owned. I leave my brother to offer a solution.”
There was an attentive buzz around the chamber as Drustan leant his arse against the rail that encircled the conference pit and faced the meeting.
“Might I suggest that if my sister is to marry this prince then she at least be made wealthy enough to sustain her position of ennoblement.”
Drustan did not wait for concurrence but simply ploughed straight into the detail.
“If the kingdom is in my gift then here is my proposal. Portega’s kingdom shall be deeded by treaty to my twin sister Mabina upon her marriage to Prince Portua. She shall hold all title to the realm and not concede her title of queen and sovereign to Sallic Law and primo geniture. She will remain as sovereign even though married to Portua. Portua will have the satisfaction of knowing that whilst he will not reign, at least his children will. The legitimate line of succession will thus continue without a blood-line break and law will be seen to prevail. I, as Drustan Scar-arse would see law prevail for we have all seen where tyranny and confusion of succession leads and I for one am tired of the bloodshed.
I know, from hard experience that there are always those who would seek to gain power so I am entrusting two peace-keepers with the task of maintaining order and protecting my sister from plot and treachery. These two men are to be Dronus and Pedoro, for I have trucked with them and they have proven to be loyal and honest, whilst not to me but to their lawful monarchs. For even though Portega was a tyrant he was the lawful king. Dronus will also have the additional pleasure of knowing his great-grandchild will be born as the legitimate heir to Portega’s throne
Portega’s only daughter, that is Portua’s mother will also sit in council now that her husband, Dronus’s son met death at the hands of Appotel’s army during the battle for the southern pass. It is good to have women in council for they bring many qualities of good governance. I think especially of my older sister Aiofe when I say this.
Thus will the kingdom be ruled. I know my sister Mabina, as anointed queen, will serve that blighted kingdom well and bring it back to prosperity. Finally to my twin sister Mabina, I can only say this.
Take your wisdom where your heart leads but do not let your heart rule your head. That is the burden of monarchy. So my dear sister it’s to be farewell between us. If I ever live to be of an age when I am tired of travel and adventure, I might one day come back to you.”
There was a buzz of surprise that settled into a murmur of thoughtful consensus around the meeting. Nobody raised any objections and Drustan felt his shoulders lighten with relief from the raising of burdens. He motioned to Aiofe and beckoned her from the room. Aiofe smiled her excuses to the chamber and followed Drustan out.
“I’m tired of all this statesmanship and kingliness, let’s be getting on with delivering you to Magab.”
The following morning, Drustan and Aiofe shared a tearful farewell with Mabina then joined Appotel’s return to his Southern kingdom. He and Aiofe rode in silence for already they were missing their sister Mabina. They arrived at the border town and were greeted by Isaar, Pedoro’s oldest son who had now been promoted to ‘Border Marshall’ now that his father was acting as elder
statesman and advisor to Mabina. Isaar begged them to stay a few days but pressing matters drove Appotel and his party quickly south were messages that a large fleet of Corsair pirate ships had been seen gathering off the Southern shores of the straights. It was a relieved King Appotel who arrived to find that Carl, Eric and the other freed sweepsmen from the Corsair galleys had not been idle. They had worked like Trojans co-operating with Appotel’s own ship-builders and there were ten ships of like design to Drustan’s beloved Mermaid sitting in the harbour either being fitted out or tested in sea trials. When he saw the new craft Drustan didn’t even follow King Appotel into the castle but he galloped straight down to the harbour. There he was overjoyed to meet with Eric and Carl and catch up on the news.
“It’s not good news lad,” Carl sighed, “they still outnumber us about three to one. They’ve been assembling ships from all corners of the Berber realms to build a big enough force.”
“And what of our forces?” Drustan pressed.
“Well we have ten of the new craft plus your own stout vessel and we have five of the older heavier ships. They’re strong and proven but they are slow and cumbersome compared with the Corsair ships though they are better armed. We’re going to have to work out some sort of tactics because these damn Nubians outnumber us at least two and maybe three to one.”
Drustan fully understood the danger. The Corsair ships were much faster than the old type Turdetani ships and they were well armed, but they had no hope in a race with the new boats. However, the new ships were small and light. What King Appotel needed was time to prepare and build more ships; or find an ally. As Drustan followed Carl and Eric around the meagre fleet he racked his brains for a solution. A chat with Aiofe seemed like a good idea for Dustan’s older sister had demonstrated on several occasions that she had a head for war and strategy.
He found Aiofe in Queen Bramana’s chambers while Appotel was catching up on affairs of state. As always he demonstrated a total lack of respect for the royal conventions and he simply ran unthinking up the stairs to Bramana’s private chambers whilst still dressed and armed from the day’s journey. It wasn’t until he was brusquely stopped and restrained by four guards outside Bramana’s chambers that he realised it did not do to boldly dash up to a queen’s chambers still armed to the teeth.
The commotion outside her door soon alerted Bramana and Aiofe to what had become a familiar scene namely Drustan being restrained by guards while he loudly protested his innocence and loyalty. Once again Aiofe found herself repeating the same old scolding.
“For the god’s sakes brother, all you have to do is send a lady in waiting to announce you. You simply cannot just barge into a lady’s boudoir especially if that lady is a queen. We’ve only just finished washing and changing from the dust and heat of the journey.”
“It’s you I wanted to see not her.”
Queen Bramana immediately corrected him.
“Her majesty Drustan! You refer to me as Her Majesty, not just ‘her’!”
“Oh. Uuhhm, sorry your majesty, I have to talk with my sister. I want advice.”
Bramana wagged her head but smiled for despite the boy’s uncouth behaviour she still felt a soft spot for him. ‘One day,’ she thought; ‘one day some very special maid might gentle him but for now the boy’s manners were a lost cause.’
“Can I listen to this advice as well?” Asked Queen Bramana, curious that a boy so immersed in the cruel skills of battle should still consult with a woman as an equal and not as some sort of soothsayer.
“Dunno, - uuhhm, - your majesty. We’ll have to see what ideas my big sis comes up with.”
“Go on then, what’s the problem brother?” Aiofe pressed.
“How to defeat the Berber pirates, these dammnable corsairs. They outnumber us twice, nearly thrice.”
“So we need a bigger fleet.”
“In a word sister, yes but they’re adding to their fleet as fast as we add to ours.”
“So we need to find allies.”
“Where?” Queen Bramana interjected. “ Our Allies are the Bastuli and Bastelani who lie eastwards of here.”
“So we cannot muster our forces then,” Drustan sighed, “for the corsairs more or less hold the centre of the straights. To join forces we would have to fight through the Berber strangle-hold.”
“It seems to be the old ‘chessboard scenario’,” Aiofe frowned, “ he who holds the centre holds the game-. Our forces are divided unless we can unite.”
Then Drustan had a thought.
“What about our new allies to the west? My own twin sister no less.”
“Who, the Lusitani and the Turduloruni?” Bramana scoffed. “ Their allegiances were always fragile. The link by sea is dangerous and once their ships pass the Pillars of Hercules there is no knowing when or even if they’ll ever get back. The middle sea is a thirsty beast and the only mouth is the straights. Most ships who enter the beast fail to get out.”
Then Drustan dropped his bombshell.
“No your majesty. There you are wrong. That is not the case anymore. My beloved Mermaid dances in the jaws of the beast and yet spits out into the great west sea. No longer are our ships trapped by the greed of the middle sea. Have you forgotten already that even in battle and pursuit I made way westwards where the Corsairs could not go. That’s how I eluded them that’s how I defeated them.”
Bramana fell silent but Aiofe understood perfectly, furthermore Mabina, the soon-to-be-crowned queen of Lusitana understood this truth as well as, if not even better than her twin brother. Aiofe smiled.
“We need only get a message to Mabina with a call to arms and she will surely come leaping to our aid.”
“I would hope so Sister,” Drustan concurred, “the essence is speed. The sooner she knows, the better.”
Even as he concluded this truth Drustan was afoot and bound to see King Appotel. From behind the mountain of scrolls and documents, Appotel agreed.
“Well lad, you’re best fitted to persuade your twin sister of the urgency. I will send a message immediately.”
“I’d prefer to go myself your majesty. She might even come herself once she understands the dangers. There is no better navigator who understands the Western sea like my sister.”
“D’you sail, or take the land road?”
“The land road I’m afraid, a galloping horse is faster than a ship, even the Angry Mermaid.”
“Very well Drustan I’ll prepare the letter now. But surely you’ll wait until the morrow. You’ve only just come off the road from Toledo. Get some sleep boy!”
“Best I take a light chariot and sleep overnight whilst still moving. I can curl up in the foot-well while my companions push on. If we keep up a steady trot we’ll easily outstrip a boat. They have to sail around the capes while we cut across the land.”
Appotel wagged his head, ‘there seemed to be no limit to the boy’s tenacity and endurance.’ He made out the letters of pratique even as Drustan gathered a team of the best horsemen and messengers. Then he had a brainwave. He sent word for the girl Arina and asked Carl and Eric to accompany her. It would do no harm to have a ‘back-up’ plan and Arina was as wise to navigating the Western sea as Mabina and Drustan. That same evening, the second fastest boat in Appotel’s modest fleet set out from Gibral westwards for the coasts of Lusitana. A young girl as navigator and two well proven seamen as captain and mate. It would also be an excellent test of the Iberian boats in the stern waters of the great west sea. Appotel was intrigued to determine who would first reach the court of the young queen Mabina.
In the end, a worn out, road-stained, filthy Drustan arrived at his twin sister’s palace a day later than the boat.
“By the god’s who’d have thought it,” remarked an exhausted Drustan as he met his sister Mabina and the crew of the boat already preparing a fleet to sail south and east to assist.”
“Why so tardy brother?”
“Oh there is much confusion abroad in your kingdom sister. Some of the smaller towns did not know you were even queen. Our party was detained twice until the town’s folk knew the truth.”
“Yes,” Mabina conceded. “Communication and information were not Portega’s strong points. His people lived in ignorance and I have much to do to rectify this.” Even now, I am opening those particular routes to Gibral and Toledo so you should have a quicker journey back.”
“How many ships have you?” Drustan asked.
“There we are lucky,” Mabina grinned. “Portega had been preparing for other battles and he had built a new fleet in readiness to invade south and north. I have nearly fifty ships and all of them brand new!”
Eric and Carl’s eyes lit up with delight. With a fleet like that their task was infinitely easier. They made their excuses to Mabina and Drustan to ask to inspect the ships. In the interim Drustan and Arina savoured the prospect of a night in proper beds as guests of Mabina. Early the next morning Carl and Eric returned with their reports.
“Well they’re sturdy and powerful ships Drustan but they’re not the quickest. They’ll take a lot of pounding though.”
“And the crews, what of their skills.”
“We took two ships out to sea last evening. They’re competent seamen and handle the ships well. Most are ex fishermen. As to men at arms to fight the ships, well Portega’s still left with a large army. It remains to make them seamen.”
“How long?” Drustan pressed impatiently.
“ A few days to sort out the sailors from the lubbers, sea-sickness and what have you; then they can train up on passage. These ships will take at least a week to make the Pillars of Hercules.”
Drustan turned to Mabina.
“Can I leave this to you, Carl and Eric. I must return post haste to prepare Appotel’s fleet. Arina can sail south with you to work with your ships and formulate tactics between the small fast lighter ships and your heavier craft. Oh by the way dear sister, I’ve got something special for you!”
“What’s that brother.”
“When’s your coronation?”
“The Autumnal equinox. Some tradition about equal day and night meaning equality to the people.”
Drustan wagged his head and grinned.
“I don’t think Portega thought much of equality. “I’ll bet they’re glad he’s gone!”
“I’m working to make that the case. Portua needs a lot of counselling but he’s responding. Pedoro and Dronus are excellent tutors and Dronus really likes his grandson. To tell the truth I think it’s the first time my future husband has ever had a blood relative who actually likes him and cares for him.”
“What about his mother?”
“She had very little to do with him, poor kid hardly knew his own mother. Portega more or less tried to make the boy a mirror of himself so the poor woman hardly saw her son. Dronus and Pedoro have their work cut out but he’s a nice kid at heart. He’s getting closer to his mother now and that’s not a bad thing. She’s desperately glad to have her son back at last. So, you can stop teasing me now; what is this ‘something special’ you have for me? ”
Drustan reached into his saddle bags stretched across Mabina’s dressing room chair and pulled out several large gold ingots. Mabina gasped as her twin smiled.
“Let no man say you came to this throne as a pauper. Count these as your dowry.”
“My God brother! I had completely forgotten. From the Mermaid!”
“The very same sister. Pure Celtic gold! I had hell’s own job recovering it from the dock without being seen. Next question, to whom do I pay your dowry?”
Mabina had to think and the question flummoxed her.
“Well I honestly don’t know brother. Normally it’s to the family of the groom.”
“That’s his mother and father, one of whom is dead,” Drustan replied with some finality. “ I suggest you keep it for your own account. Your queen and sovereign now, how does it feel. Anyway, nobody yet knows of this gold but you and me; even Aiofe remains ignorant! She gets her half if we ever get through the Berber pirates to Carthage.”
“Aren’t you going to keep your share?” Mabina wondered.
“What use is it to me? It’s just weight and a burden. Besides sister, did I not turn down this very kingdom? What are a few bars of this stuff? All I’ll ever want is a stout ship, a good sail and a fair wind; oh and a sharp sword.”
Mabina shrugged, her brother seemed to growing more and more distant. She knew what he wanted but the odds against his ever achieving it seemed impossible.
“So you ride in the morning I presume.” Mabina sighed wistfully.
“No. I ride tonight. There is no gold to weigh me down and the message I have for Appotel is simple. I’ll be there in three days for I don’t intend to get bogged down in any stupid town overnight detained by suspicious beaurocrats. I’ll just bypass the towns.”
“Well if you must then. I’ll make out a carnet for you but I doubt but half of the burghers yet know my signature and seal.”
“Exactly. I’m better off travelling with just a couple of trusted companions. Shall we eat? It’s getting dark and I’ll be glad of the full evening moon. It sets shortly after the middle hours. Then it’s just too dark to travel.”
Mabina stood with Arina as they watched her brother departing then she reluctantly returned to her apartments. She was wondering if she’d ever see her crazy wayward brother again, but then she had been thinking the same thoughts only few days earlier before they separated in Pilus’s castle. Her mood was improved when Portua came home to share dinner.
On the road south and east, Drustan was making pleasing progress and within his estimated three days he arrived saddle sore and aching as he hobbled into Appotel’s castle. They exchanged news then Drustan had the first decent sleep in nearly two weeks. He could only wait until the Lusitani fleet arrived off the mouth of the straights. The fleet would not commit to the straights until there was a reasonable certainty of tempting the Corsair fleet into a fight followed by a trap. To do this the Turdetani fleet had to somehow work its way out into the great western sea and present a tempting bait. For this the whole fleet had to be towed out three or four per night until all ten were up tide of the eastbound currents that swept most ships of the time from the Great West Sea, (Atlantic,) into the middle sea, (Mediterranean Sea). Eventually the Turdetani fleet sat under the cliffs of Cadiz awaiting a rendezvous. It followed the next evening as Carl and Eric led the mighty Lusitani fleet south and eastwards from the cape of Trafalgar. As the commanders discussed the forthcoming battle tactics the smaller, speedier ‘Mermaid type’ craft darted in and out of the scattered Berber picket boats testing their preparedness and looking for weaknesses. There were few shortcomings and Drustan reluctantly conceded privately to himself that the battle would end up being a stand up, ‘blow for blow’ slugging match. Fortunately the Lusitani ships brought a numerical advantage to the combined Iberian fleets but they still had to entice the Corsairs into a trap and the corsairs were no fools.
Disappointed with the seeming lack of imagination amongst the commanders of the Iberian fleets, Drustan slipped back to Gibral to chat with his mentor and advisor Aiofe. The Mermaid was swift and bore him quickly back to Gibral and Aiofe.
During the night they walked along the beach as they discussed scenarios and variables like fog and wind directions until eventually Aiofe and Drustan arrived at several stratagems. The one they both favoured was ‘The trap’ but determining a suitable bait gave Aiofe a head ache.
“If we were to wait until an easterly wind came in, we could then readily draw them out of the bottleneck of the western straights and into an area where the slow speed and lack of manoeuvrability of our heavier ships would not count so heavily.”
“But how can we forecast such a wind?” Drustan Wondered. “It is not like our more open seas where winds can be foretold sometimes by the tails of Odin’s horse Sliepnir. Here the mountains seem to funnel the wind. Once those fat old barges enter between the pillars they will end up in the middle sea or at least they must wait for moons at a time to find a favourable wind. Look how we struggled to get a few of them free from the grip of Hercules fist just to rendezvous with Mabina’s fleet.”
Aiofe frowned as she led Drustan to a lonely part of the beach where the rocks formed a high sided bay. There Aiofe lowered her voice.
“Some nights after you left with the Gibral fleet, I was wandering the coast to the east of here. I came upon an old fisherman who lives alone in a hut not an hour’s walk from here.”
“So?”
“I would like you to speak with him. He is not just a fisherman for he has travelled the middle sea to the very ends further even than the Argonauts. He has also travelled our waters and that makes him rare.”
“Huh. He sounds like some sort of old soothsayer to me.”
“No brother. He showed me some charts he has. They are too good a quality to be the makings of some crazy rambling old fisherman. This man was obviously once a seafarer and a traveller. Although he is old and frail he spoke of things that I can confirm, things Magab spoke of and described. But this man’s charts actually show them, the names and even pictures to illustrate the approaches. The images resemble exactly what Magab described. He also showed me his charts of the Brithonic channel, they are as accurate as ours Drustan and we tend to keep ours secret.”
Drustan’s doubts were writ large in his frown.
“If he was this knowledgeable, why is he not held in esteem by his kinsmen? Why are his charts not shared by the others of Gibral? Why does he live like an old hermit?”
“I don’t know. From his demeanour I suspect there is great tragedy in his life. Now he grows a few crops on some land above the beach and he fishes close inshore so the Corsairs cannot intercept him. But he has fished these waters since he was a child and spoke of other pointers as to when the winds were about to change. When the fog rolls in and the waters cool and the dolphins bring strange fish from the depths things are happening far below the surface. This man has fished to great depths and he has learned much of the sea. Not just the surface but deep below and high above in the clouds. He thinks he has a better chance of forecasting when the winds will turn than any other man or witch or prophet in Iberia or Numibia.”
Drustan shrugged.
“I suppose it can’t do any harm to speak to him.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that brother. Let us go and see him now, while it is dark and nobody sees.”
They chatted as they stepped purposefully along the beach until the pair came to a rocky outcrop that plunged into the sea.
“It’s around this point but we’ll have to wade I’m afraid. It’s not deep only knee height.” Aiofe explained.
As the pair emerged from the shallows Drustan spied the mean rough stone cabin with grass and timber roof. There was a weak glimmer of light emanating from within thus demonstrating that someone was living there. Aiofe hailed the cabin in a soft maidenly voice.
A shadow crossed the lantern and everything went dark.
“He’s just being cautious,” Aiofe added. It’s not been unknown for raiders to land on these beaches.
“Nothing changes does it?” Drustan sighed. You’d better approach first if he knows you. An armed boy might alert him.
“You’re hardly a boy now Drustan. I’ve seen grown men become cautious even at the mention of your name. Your reputation precedes you, - despite your maidenly charms.”
“Yeah, a reputation easily earned but hard to shed; Drustan the warrior, Drustan the killer, Drustan the murderer, Drustan the maidenly witch! I’m still young Aiofe not yet passed sixteen summers. Go on, you go forward, I’ll wait here.”
Aiofe approached the cabin, spoke softly to the old man inside then emerged and motioned to Drustan.
“You can come in.”
Drustan stepped forward and entered the mean sour smelling cabin. There was a tiny grate with a few feeble embers that gave some comfort to the bed that was laid close to the hearth. Furnishings were minimal, a chair and a table and a large chest. The man obviously set little store by creature comforts and appearances. Drustan however extended the man the full courtesies and introduced himself as nobleman to nobleman.
“Hello. I am Drustan Scar-arse of the Gangani, son of Caderyn, Grandson of Erin.
“I am Jubail, native of this land. Welcome to my hut.”
“My sister Aiofe tells that you were a sailor, a navigator.”
“And adventurer,” Jubail added. “But now I fish and farm.”
Drustan nodded and came straight to the point.
“My sister says that you can predict when the winds will change between the pillars.”
“Not with total accuracy but my knowledge serves to make my fishing safe from the elements if not the Barbary Pirates. If I have doubts, I do not sail.”
“Neither do I,” Drustan agreed, “there are dangers enough without being foolish or foolhardy.”
The old man nodded thinking ‘a wise head for such young shoulders.’
“
"So you are the boy who sailed from the Brithonic Isles.”
Drustan nodded then added, “With my two sisters, we all played equal parts in the voyage.”
“And the fighting I heard.”
Drustan simply nodded again. To add to the old man’s words would sound like bragging.
Jubail nodded back then sat on the chest inviting Drustan to join him while offering Aiofe the chair. He added some driftwood to the embers and they caught quickly. Aiofe shifted closer to the flames, grateful for the extra warmth.
“So; you wish to know the signs, the signs of the wind between the pillars.”
“Please. A battle may depend on it.”
“Many sea battles had been decided by the wind and many more will follow. Nodens and Cammas will make sure of that.”
Drustan was secretly glad that Jubail seemed to recognise the old gods of sea and wind so he asked further.
"Can you teach me, - tonight."
“No. The lessons have to be practical. Bring that famous boat you have built around to this bay tomorrow and we shall all go out on the waters. I will demonstrate the signs, for it is easier to recognise them once you have seen them. Once you have seen and felt them you will have no need of words or letters and others will not understand your secrets. Trust me. Go back now and get your boat. Bring it here for if the Corsairs see us I am told your boat can outrun them. Your sister may stay here if you wish. I have much to divulge.”
Drustan wasn’t sure about leaving Aiofe unguarded but time was pressing and the sun would be up in a few hours. Best if he slipped out of Gibral without causing too much fuss.
His departure was easy. He had arrived alone at night, now he was departing alone at night. The guards well knew that Drustan often had his own secret agendas and he also had King Appotel’s pratique. Just as the sun was rising Drustan entered the little bay. His inshore passage from Gibral to Jubail’s bay had been shielded from the straights by darkness at first then a low bank of early morning mist. He slipped into the bay un-noticed and was met by Aiofe and Jubail who had gathered some strange fishing equipment. The most notable part being a reel with what seemed like hundreds of fathoms of fine line made from some fibre Drustan had never seen before. Once everything was loaded Drustan returned to sea with Aiofe and Jubail.
In which Drustan finds himself in the thick of it again. Not much 'TG' stuff in this chapter but their progress to get Aiofe to Carthage is advanced by the sucessful victory over the Barbary pirates.
The Angry Mermaid 15.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 15
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
As Drustan set The Angry Mermaid close to the westerly breeze Jubail’s eyes widened with appreciation. He had never seen a craft sail so close to the wind before. After checking its progress against long familiar onshore markers, Jubail estimated her to be making a modest trot over the ground against what Jubail knew to be a strong westerly set close inshore. He estimated that this strange miraculous craft was making about twice trotting speed through the water and he studied the set of the sails. After assimilating all the unusual characteristics Jubail turned to Aiofe as she was tightening up the main sheet.
“And you say your brother built this when he was but eleven or twelve summers.”
“Eleven summers to be exact,” Aiofe replied, “he spent his eleventh winter and twelfth summer perfecting her. Remarkable craft
is she not?”
“It’s amazing. I’ll warrant she’s still faster than the new copies built at Gibral.”
“She is. Despite having travelled many leagues, she is still a better boat. My brother says it is the wood she is built of. Brithonic oak is very strong and light though hard to work with. As it gets older, it hardens and the Angry Mermaid actually gets stronger with age.”
As she spoke Aiofe ran her soft hands along the rail and Jubail could see the pride and affection the girl had for the boat. ‘If the girl had pride in The Mermaid, the boy must be besotted with affection.’ Jubail glanced aft and smiled secretly. The boy’s eyes were everywhere checking every detail as his creation sped through the water like a flying fish.
Once the Mermaid had made the agreed land mark, Drustan came up to wind and brought the ship into irons. He turned to Jubail and spoke softly.
“So master of the sea, I have shown you my craft, my secrets; now what secrets are you to show me?”
Jubail set his reel at the rail and attached a largish weight of wood and lead with some hooks and bait attached. Drustan noted that it was not a dead weight but it had an almost neutral buoyancy and only sank very slowly. It sank straight down as the Mermaid lay dead in the water letting the current take her eastwards. Then after nearly two hundred fathoms of line was paid out Dustan noticed the line start to pay out westwards as the Mermaid continued drifting eastwards. Jubail took Drustan’s fingers and placed them on the line. The line was tight and ‘thrumming’ with a regular vibration but there was no snagging or jerking. The line was not yet on the bottom. Drustan had handled enough fishing lines to know when a weight was grounded and this weight was not yet on the bottom. The tension on the line was steady but the vibrations indicated that the weight was reacting to being ‘towed’; even though it still flowed free in the water. He looked wonderingly.
“What pulls the line?”
Jubail smiled and explained.
“The straits are very deep but all the waters do not run eastwards. Deep down, deeper than ever the deepest anchor can hold, the waters between the pillars run westwards, out of the Middle Sea. See as I pay out the line it gets ever tighter. Partly because of the pull of the water on the longer length of line but also as the weight goes deeper the outflow gets faster as Norden’s secret waters escape to the Western great sea.”
“How deep does it get?” Drustan pressed curiously.
“In the middle I have found no bottom at four hundred fathoms. After that my line snapped from the strain and I can’t afford to lose more. This line is valuable.”
Aiofe recognised it as silk and well knew the worth of it. She nodded affirmation to her brother.
“So how does this predict the winds?” Drustan asked.
“It doesn’t, not directly anyway but all parts of this world are become one eventually. The sea affects the fish and the fish are food for the dolphins and the dolphins go where the fish go.”
As he spoke, Jubail stopped paying out the line and started slowly reeling it in. Suddenly he smiled and motioned to Drustan to make westering again to ease the strain on the line. Drustan responded as Aiofe lent a hand reeling in the line. Eventually the weight appeared accompanied by a very strange fish the like of which Drustan had never seen before. His jaw sagged as Jubail carefully avoided the grotesque oversized mouth and hauled the monster inboard. Drustan frowned with disgust.
“By all the Gods! What monster of a fish is that?”
“It lives in the very depths of the sea.”
“And so it should. I’ve never seen anything so ugly. That would frighten a Corsair captain, let alone a child.”
“Its looks don’t concern me but its bladder does.” Jubail grinned.
“Why?”
Jubail took his gutting knife and deftly removed the swollen bladder without rupturing it.
“Taste the water in the bladder.”
“It won’t bloody poison me will it? Everything about this horror looks dangerous.”
“It’s just a fish with a bladder, just taste the water in the bladder.”
To demonstrate, Jubail slit the swim-bladder and drained the contents into a small cup he had brought along. He tasted it first, grimaced and handed the cup to Drustan. Reassured that Jubail hadn’t poisoned himself, Drustan put the cup to his lips. He immediately spat the water out cursing and spluttering.
“Bloody hell that’s bitter. Shouldn’t it just be ordinary sea water?”
“I think it is,” Jubail replied. I think the water down there contains more salt. That’s why it sits on the bottom and that’s why it flows out to the great sea.”
“So, it’s saltier, how does this predict the wind?”
Jubail spoke very softly so that only Drustan heard the details. Aiofe was busying herself with the fore sheets and did not notice the old fisherman muttering in Drustan’s ear as he explained.
“When the wind is about to change, this deep salty water sometimes swirls to the surface. I don’t know why, maybe the currents are affected further east and slowly the waters mingle. I think it’s the current flowing into the middle sea slowing down. It loses its force and the undercurrent is free to swirl and eddy upwards specifically between the pillars themselves. Anyway, about a day before the wind change reaches here, directly between the pillars at the narrowest point, the eastbound surface current slows down and loses force, then these saltier bottom waters start to swirl to the surface. There is a very slight change in colour but more particularly the surface fish and the dolphins dislike it while these monsters from the deep occasionally ride the saltier water to the surface. If you are alert to the behaviour of the dolphins you will see them give the upwelling a wide berth. As I said, it happens most where the pillars face each other and the strait is narrowest, I think there is a ridge of rock that sets the current up. So if you keep a close eye on the sea and the dolphins, you might be able to predict the change in the wind a day or more to the east. As the change moves slowly westwards with the wind, you can set your fleets and spring your trap. They can sail into the straits where everybody thinks they are hopelessly committed then when the wind changes, they can double back and fall upon the trapped corsairs who are now meat in your sandwich.”
“It seems risky to me, to plan a whole venture on the conduct of a few dolphins.” Drustan grinned for he had already seen the advantages.
“There is another sign,” the old man added.
“Do tell”, urged Drustan as Aiofe returned to the stern.
“Watch the west wind; if it veers to the north or north east; that usually reinforces the certainty of the first sign. If it backs to the south then the first sign is usually void.”
Drustan smiled gratefully and hugged the old man tightly. Aiofe also smiled. She knew her brother of old. Beneath that seemingly unpredictable, spontaneous bravado ticked a brain that weighed up as many odds as were possible. Aiofe was still impressed with the way her lightly clothed brother had unseated and then finally despatched the mighty King Portega, a fully armoured and well trained man at arms. She settled in to a contented huddle as Drustan nodded with satisfaction.
He who knew what the gods planned had a huge advantage and already Drustan’s mind had formed a plan. By way of a thank you he offered to take Jubail right out into the centre of the straits. Something the old man had avoided since the enmity between Iberia and Nubia had flared up.
“Would that be safe?” Jubail wondered. “I mean, your sister Aiofe, would she not be at great peril?”
“They won’t catch us Jubail,” Aiofe grinned, “Not in this craft.”
To demonstrate, Drustan set out across the straits and even circled a Corsair ship before flying back to safety under Gibral’s cliffs. At the same time Aiofe unleashed a few lethal arrows from her splendid longbow just to show the Berber pirates that even the smaller Iberian ships could bite!
Armed with this knowledge, and copies of Jubail’s charts Drustan returned to the Iberian Celtic fleet now waiting off Caerdeez. He did not mention his new-found secrets but after analysing the Celtic battle plan he saw several opportunities to exploit if he could just delay the battle until there was a probability of an easterly wind. For this he had to be seen to consult a soothsayer to reassure the more superstitious captains then all he could do was wait. To ensure the right circumstances, he had to sit out alone with just his sister Aiofe and Arina the Demetae fisher girl each day in the middle of the straights risking encirclement and capture by the Corsairs.
Eventually he saw the first signs in the water and after double checking his findings he sped north-west to the Celtic fleet and set the battle plan in motion. He was pleased to note that the westerly wind had already started to veer even as the larger ships lumbered into line. They had formed two crescents one far behind the other so that if one line got swept into the straits, the rear line could avert the situation by turning about. Everybody knew that this might split their forces but it was hoped that their superior numbers and the nimble mermaid class would prevail.
As the tension mounted, Drustan flitted from the front battle line to the rear battle line making suggestions and giving advice as the first line advanced inevitably towards the corsair fleet.
As always he was in the thick of it when the two fleets clashed. His tactic was to dash towards a skirmish between two ships and then have Aiofe unleash her deadly arrows at range to kill the Berber steersman then if possible pick off the accompanying commander before the Corsair ship realised they were facing attack from two sides. Other crews in the other mermaid boats soon caught on to the tactic and it proved a successful ploy. Several Corsair ships succumbed before the pirates worked out a defence and placed their ships in pairs to ward off attacks from two sides. Also two of the Iberian’s heavy ships were overwhelmed as the moors proved their fighting skills and courage. Then as the battle was swept between the Pillars of Hercules the moors cunningly broke off and watched knowingly as the Iberian ships with their square sails, were swept by the current helplessly eastwards and out of the fray. The Corsair captains felt they had the advantage as their trisail dhows proved more manageable up into the wind.
The small mermaid class were easily able to out manoeuvre them but it was suicide to close in with the immensely more powerful Corsair ships. The Moors started counting their chickens as they formed a wedge with their ships to plunge into the centre of the second battle line and by concentrating their forces bring a sledge hammer blow to bear. Drustan could only watch and fret as he prayed that the wind would turn in time.
“Come on!” He cursed the gods. “In the name of all that’s in the sky; - turn wind, turn!”
In his fear he brought the Angry Mermaid in close to the point of the corsair wedge and urged Aiofe to fire her arrows at what was obviously the fleet commander’s flagship. After Aiofe had fired her last arrows she turned to her brother and shrugged.
“I’m out of ammunition brother. We are no use to anybody now. Might I suggest we withdraw?”
Reluctantly, Drustan was forced to agree. Both Nubians and Iberians had bows though shorter and with less range than Aiofe’s Brithonic yew long bow. Now that Aiofe had no more ‘teeth’ to bite with, the Mermaid was just a liability. As they sped for safety Arina turned and grinned at the boy she so much grown to admire; - a boy who had used wit and guile to defeat a powerful and cunning enemy for yet a second time. She smiled hugely as she congratulated her brother.
“Well Drustan, would this possibly be the first fight you’ve been in where you haven’t actually ended up wounded?”
“The fight’s not over yet Arina. I still have a useful sword. See that emerald green sail in the thick of it.”
Arina looked and nodded.
“Well that’s Eric’s ship and he looks hard pressed. He's attacked the berber flagship and I think he's bitten off more than he can chew. He needs help.” Drustan continued. “Take us under the counter of the pirate ship that’s grappled to him, I will swim under his stern and clamber up his rudder.”
“But that’s lunacy brother!” Aiofe protested.
Drustan ignored his older sister as he measured the closing gap then he turned to Arina.
“Look the Nubian crew are pre-occupied with the hand fight. They have all set aside their bows to swing their scimitars. That flagship has a higher poop, an extra deck at the stern. I'll wager there's an efter cabin where I can sneak in through the rudder-rope apertures. Nobody has yet spotted us and we are but a spear throw, take me in a few more ship’s lengths and I will slip over the side of the Mermaid unseen. Quickly girl, just do it!”
Arina turned uncertainly to Aiofe who had already realised the futility of trying to keep her crazy brother away from a fight once his blood was up. Even as Arina watched Mermaid's course, Drustan was hanging over the blind side ready to slip unseen into the sea. All he had was his sword in its shoulder scabbard and his faithful dagger stuffed into the waist-belt of his breech cloth. He called up to Aiofe.
“Let me know when we are nearest, those two ships are grappled together and stopped in the water. It is but a few strokes to reach them. Then as I swim under their stern you steer away ahead of them to distract their attention if they do notice you. Have they seen you yet?”
“No, and it’s our closest approach about now.” Snapped Aiofe angrily, furious that her brother should be taking such a crazy risk.
Drustan let go of the side rail and slipped silently into the water as Aiofe immediately tightened the sheets while Arina held the rudder steady. The Mermaid sped past the Corsair’s bow even as Drustan swam the lung-bursting distance underwater to the Corsair’s stern. He was almost seeing stars by the time he surfaced almost under the stern. It was a few strokes to reach the rudder and he prayed he had not been seen. He rested gasping as he clung to the rudder pintle and checked to see if there was any response to his having appeared. After recovering his breath, he then started shimmying up the rudder post to see what mischief he could achieve. In the rudder space he studied the two thick steering ropes but decided to only weaken them, not sever them. If the tiller suddenly went slack, the steersman would be alerted to trouble with the rudder. Better to weaken it and let the steersman find out when he needed to use the rudder for at that moment the two ships were locked together and not moving except to drift with the currents.
Once the ropes were almost cut he sneaked into the steering space through the rope holes then into a well furnished, empty, after cabin. It was obviously the admiral's cabin but he was up on the poop deck directing the battle. The clamour of battle disguised any actions Drustan undertook for the crew were preoccupied with the mayhem on the deck. His knowledge of the Nubian ship was gained from the one they had captured when Drustan had been struck by the arrow and the galley sweep slaves, led by Carl and Eric, had subsequently captured it.
Uncertain of what to do next Drustan peeped out between the slats of a half closed shutter looking from the after cabin onto the deck. He first wanted to disable the Corsair ship but he realised that now the moors were grappled to Eric’s ship, the issue was not the ship but the actual fight. The moors fought to board the Iberian ship whilst Eric’s crew fought like tigers to fend them off. Drustan could see that the moors were slowly gaining headway. It would be no use just charging out onto the deck for there were corsairs aplenty who could have surrounded him and cut him down. These same men were standing in disciplined groups all watching the fight so as to replace every moor that fell. They were watching the fight at the rail and they had their backs to the door of the admiral's cabin.
Drustan realised one big weakness between the Moorish dhows and the Iberian square rigs. The moors had much larger crews and could withstand the attrition rate for far longer. In a straight ship-on-ship fight, the moors could withstand the attrition for longer unless two Iberian ships could pincer the Moorish ship between them. This was a seemingly impossible task because the Moorish ships fore-and-aft trisails made the moors more manoeuvrable. Eric’s boldness in sailing ahead of the main Iberian line had exposed him to attack and what was worse; another Moorish ship could be seen working steadily upwind to join the fight. If that ship grappled Eric’s other side then the battle was over for Eric.
Drustan searched desperately for some artefact to fashion a plan. Then he spied some Moorish armour lying on a bench and his agile brain devised a way to put it to use. The armour not only provide him with protection but it gave him a disguise. With a helmet and jerkin he would be mistaken for a common Moorish foot-soldier. This done he deliberately cut himself to look as though he was wounded then he stumbled out onto the deck holding his ‘wounded’ arm and blood running from his throat. This was crucially to make it look as though his throat was wounded and couldn’t talk if challenged. Then he sucked his cut and filled his mouth with his own blood and breathed through his nostrils. In the frenzy of shouting and fighting he looked just like many other wounded men and he was free to ‘stagger’ towards where the short bows had been carefully stored now that very man was involved in hand-to-hand combat.
‘Thank the gods that the Moors were well organised and disciplined,’ thought Drustan as he bundled two bows and as many quivers of arrows as he could gather.
His foresight worked for as he ‘staggered’ aft loaded with ammunition he was challenged by an officer. He raised his ‘injured arm’ to his bloodied throat and attempted to gargle an answer as he waved the bow aimlessly then pointed towards the higher decked poop. The officer concluded the wounded man intended to die fighting by shooting arrows down into the Iberian ship’s deck-well. That was exactly the subterfuge Drustan had hoped to suggest. As blood erupted with his spittle Drustan’s ruse worked.
The officer recognised a wounded comrade and left him to make whatever contribution he had left with his remaining strength. By the amount of blood the man was covered in, the officer reckoned the bloodied foot-soldier had little life left and he turned to the more important task of releasing his own platoon, which was the last rank of swordsmen to reinforce the troops at the rail and administer the final coup’ de grace. As this last platoon surged forward, Drustan used the mayhem to slip unnoticed back into the little after cabin. There he immediately jammed the door then prepared for his attack. He laid the quivers on a small chart table by the shuttered window then started picking off crucial players in the Moorish attack. Firing through the shuttered window made him invisible and he looked to pick his targets. The first being the officer who had challenged him for if he had seen his own men receiving arrows in their backs, he would have immediately smelled a rat. Taking careful aim, Drustan waited until the officer had decapitated an Iberian crewman and he was pausing to recover. Drustan planted the arrow into the man’s neck so that as he span and fell, nobody could detect where the arrow had come from.
Drustan smiled with evident satisfaction. The trick was to be patient and pick off targets who would not reveal whence the arrows had come. To his satisfaction this usually meant an officer or hot-headed hero who was standing stupidly above the mayhem encouraging his comrades forward. Drustan achieved a dozen excellent shots before the moors realized they were under fire from some place other than the Iberian ship.
It was the Moorish admiral standing resplendent on the poop above Drustan’s cabin, who realised that there were no archers firing from the Iberian ship. He snarled with rage as he saw his best men and officers tumbling to the arrows and his carefully planned coup’ de grace faltering. Then he realised the arrows were erupting from his own cabin beneath his feet.
With a fury born of seeing his victory being snatched from his grasp, he hurtled down onto the well-deck and flung himself at the door. Drustan's barricade held and the admiral cursed as he rebounded painfully off the reinforced door. He roared to his men.
“Smash this bloody door down. The enemy is within!”
Drustan realised his time to loiter was ended. After firing a few remaining arrows into the group gathering to charge the door, he shed his breast plate and helmet then retreated aft into the steering flat and placed his remaining arrows and short-bow by the rudder blocks. To add to the mayhem and uncertainty, he finally severed the steering ropes so that the steersman had to call to the captain who then had to tell the admiral. It added little to the situation between the grappled ships but it added to the admiral’s burden of command. He now realised his flagship was helpless to escape, especially as the battle now seemed to be favouring the Iberians thanks to Drustan's intervention sowing panic and chaos amongst the reserve soldiers gathered in the well deck.
As Drustan retreated into the low confines of the steering flat, the door to the cabin finally succumbed and the giant admiral stormed in roaring with rage. Without a care for his own safety he flung himself through the low-lying door straight onto Drustan’s waiting sword. The razor sharp Toledo point sank between the admiral’s breast plate and his neck. The huge man’s momentum carried him onward and he continued staggering forward, bent over in pain until the hilt of Drustan’s sword fetched up against the rudder stock even as Drustan still struggled to free it. Then Ibn Ben Saar’s immense size and weight carried him ever further onto Drustan’s razor sharp blade as it sank down through the man’s shoulder, through his chest and down into his vitals.
His breast plate saved him from immediate death but Drustan’s sword was now stuck downwards into the man’s powerful chest and jammed inside the collar of his breast plate. It had mortally wounded the admiral but the big man was not dead yet! In his death throes the admiral swiped out frantically and caught Drustan on the hip leaving a serious wound. Drustan felt the hot pain that told him this was a bad wound as he staggered against the rudder-post. The admiral’s sword was still thrusting frantically but every thrust was getting weaker. Unfortunately Drustan could not get close enough to recover his sword for it was jammed between the admiral and the rudder stock. Already other moors were clamouring to get through the low door and protect their leader. They struggled to drag him free from the rudder then left him as they turned to attend to Drustan.
It was time to leave and with regrets, Drustan had to relinquish his precious Toledo sword. He grabbed his bow and last remaining quiver of arrows as he squeezed through the rudder post aperture. Once his bare feet were standing precariously on the top of the tapered rudder Drustan fired off one last arrow then ducked through the rudder-post space and flung himself into the sea.
The Moors gathered angrily at the top of the rudder post but there was little they could do. They had not brought bows and arrows anticipating a hand to hand fight in the confines of the cabin. Nor could they dive to pursue for they would first have to shed their armour.
Drustan had dived deep leaving a thin trail of blood in the crystal clear water then he swam urgently towards Eric's ship. He emerged on the Iberian, outboard side of the grappled pair of ships and burst to the surface screaming for help. Sadly his calls were drowned by the clash of battle still raging aboard the ships. Eventually, the loss of blood weakened him and he lost his grip to slip quietly beneath the waves unnoticed by any man.
PS. Before any know-all goes off on one in the next chapter!
Everybody knows that porpoises are mammals. They didn’t in the dark ages; so when the girls call them ‘fish’ don’t send me mail. I also know they are mammals. Otherwise, comments are always welcomed and noted.
PPS. Somebody has taken pity on me and I now have a friend who checks out my blunders. She’s bloody good and picked up on several things.
(This must have been what it was like in a school to have an English mistress guiding you. The nice part is I don’t get the cane for my spelling mistakes.)
Bye for now. And thanks D. (She wishes to remain anonymous but I have to thank her. Good manners dictate that.)
Beverly.
Life starts to move on for Drustan (Drustina,) as puberty causes her further problems and problems in Carthage muddy the waters foir Aiofe and Magab
The Angry mermaid 16.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 16
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
As Drustan sank towards unconscious oblivion, his descent was not entirely unnoticed. Several dark, streamlined shapes ghosted eerily through the darkening waters and sensed that life still ticked feebly in the body that sank before them. Cautiously, they nosed the body then, as one they started to jostle and worry the body back to the surface. Their efforts were not gentle and Drustan’s body was butted and slapped by beaks and tails as the dolphins pushed the reluctant body back to the surface. Whether some clan or pod awareness remembered the man thing as one who had helped their kind some years before by catching herring and saving one of their young in their net as the young calf struggled to recover from a shark attack, no one will ever know; but the calf had eventually survived. The pod seemed to know by whatever secret communications their species share, that this feeble dying thing was the very same creature that had saved their calf and it therefore deserved a return of favour.
As a score of dolphins pushed and pummelled the inert body, another score skimmed off at high speed to a nearby craft that harboured two more of the unconscious being’s clan. Aiofe and Arina, having stood off at a safe distance, were now watching with relief as the Iberian ship slowly overcame the Barbary flagship. Suddenly the sea around them erupted into a boiling turmoil of spray and confusion as a large pod of agitated dolphins burst to the surface squealing and clicking furiously. Aiofe and Arina were both children of the waters and immediately realised that something was amiss but they had no idea what. Then Aiofe recognised some familiar handiwork on the crooked dorsal fin of one of the smaller younger dolphins. She turned to Arina.
“Does that fish look familiar to you?”
Arina smiled.
“They all look the same to me cousin.”
“Oh pisht with you girl! D’you not recognise the stitching scar on the creature’s fin?”
Arina’s condescending grin faded as she caught Aiofe’s drift. Then she realised.
“By Noden’s crown! That’s the fish that Mabina stitched.”
“And it’s here now little cousin! Why?”
Arina paled as a dreadful thought caused her belly to sag with fear. A fisher-girl all her life, she was more attuned to the creatures of the deeps. She cast about nervously then pointed frantically.
“Drustan! He’s in trouble! Look! Look at them, look at the fish! They’re all pointing to that turbulence yonder beyond the grappled warships.”
Aiofe only needed one glance to grasp Arina’s message. She hauled on the main sheet, gathered the wind and swung towards the far-off second pod. As Aiofe hauled The Angry Mermaid around, Arina had a thought.
‘I wonder; I wonder if these watery friends of ours will help us further.’
Without consulting the preoccupied Aiofe, Arina secured one end of the mooring rope to the forward stag-horn and flung the other end over the side then banged her hand hard against the hull. To her delight and hoped-for satisfaction, the ‘fish’ got the message and in no time several dolphins had seized the rope in their beaks and where dragging the mermaid pell-mell towards their clan who continued to support and pummel the inert Drustan. Aiofe’s eyes widened with surprise as she felt the Mermaid’s bow lift off the water and the rudder became almost unmanageable owing to the speed and force through the water. She squealed to Arina in uncomprehending fear.
“By the gods my little cousin! What’s happening?”
Arina smiled then invited Aiofe to ignore the rudder and come forward to see with her own eyes.
The older maid did so and stared over the bow in disbelief.
“By the gods Arina, we are a sea chariot with a hundred horses!”
“Well about seven to be exact Cousin. But we make a swift passage.”
“How did you do this - are you a witch?”
“No. And don’t ever suggest it or you’ll get me killed by followers of this new belief that takes the Celtiberian people. They follow this new one god in three then persecute all who do not join them. This new god takes them away from the natural world and all those that dwell therein. They think they are lords of the earth and all things on it; they do not live in harmony with the gods. They think only of some sort of afterlife and gaining credits to enter it.”
“So how then? How did you get these ‘fish’ to help?”
“It’s simple cousin. It was obvious they wanted to help otherwise why would they come calling so urgently; especially the one with the stitched fin. The only possible link 'twixt us and them is Drustan! When I saw the turmoil yonder, I decided to try a trick and it worked. Just look at them straining on the rope and see how taut the rope is.”
“And see how fast we fly!” Aiofe added. “We are like a galloping horse.”
“And that, if I’m not mistaken, is Drustan’s yellow hair! We’d best get ready to save him.”
The stunned girls arrived amidst the boiling frothing waters with perfect accuracy as the ‘chariot horses’ ceased pulling and the Mermaid came to rest right alongside their brother. In no time, the girls had rigged a tackle and were heaving Drustan aboard.
The rope compressing his chest helped to squeeze what water was left in his lungs after the porpoises had pummelled his ribs to evacuate most of it. Drustan landed with a crash on the deck and coughed violently as blood and sputum stained the bleached oak timbers. Several ribs had been cracked by the dolphins urgently pummelling whilst struggling to keep his mouth clear of the water.
Aiofe watched with both relief and horror as her brother tried to rise on his arms but failed, then collapsed gasping and wheezing to the deck again. He tried to talk, but only a hoarse croak escaped his lips. Even so, Aiofe was thankful for this. At least her brother was still alive. As she gently dragged her brother onto the spare linen sail, Arina called fearfully.
“Cousin, we are trapped. There are Moorish boats on all sides of us!”
Aiofe had been so intent on recovering her brother that she had not realised how close the Dolphins had towed her towards a cluster of Moorish ships. Furthermore, these were galleys and the galley slaves were being flayed alive to drive the long slender giants towards the boat that had tormented them for hours. Aiofe scoured around but it was hopeless, the Mermaid could not escape them unless she could fly again as she had earlier.
She cursed despondently and sagged with defeat.
“We cannot outrun them. They are closing the trap as we sit here. Oh where are those fish when we need them now?”
At these words, Arina suddenly realised, the ‘fish’ were still surrounding the Mermaid. She leaned over the side and started hammering desperately on the hull.
To her relief and amazement, the ‘fish’ had only been waiting for the order. The Moorish galleys were no friends of the dolphins having often hunted them and very occasionally caught one to eat. Arina’s smile widened into a huge grin as the ‘fish’ seized the towing rope and immediately steered for the best escape. She grinned at Aiofe as she uncoiled the other mooring rope, secured that to the stag-horn and flung the other end over the other bow. Within moments the other dolphins had seized it and immediately the Mermaid increased its speed. Aiofe watched in stupefied joy as the gap between the galleys that had appeared to be inexorably closing was now widening as the Mermaid sped on the plane towards it. Arina was clinging for dear life onto the tiller but whether she was affecting the course of the boat’s escape seemed not to matter. With sonar that would remain unequalled by man for thousands of years, the porpoises had accurately calculated the best course of escape.
As the Mermaid sped like a speeding horse between the closing galley’s vicious ram bows, the bowmen on both galleys stared in disbelief at the humped forms that propelled the little ship to an impossible speed. Aiofe gave a cheeky wave then had to instinctively duck as a shower of arrows fell short by only a few yards. Before the bowmen could nock another flight of arrows into their weapons, the Mermaid was free and clear. Aiofe’s attention was drawn again to her wounded brother as he groaned in agony. She was caught between two thoughts.
‘Should she beg Arina to slow the boat and make her brother comfortable or should they keep speeding away to absolute safety?’
In the end the dolphins answered for them. They slowed down through tiredness and the Mermaid eventually came to rest several leagues west of the battle. Aiofe concluded that they had played more than their part so she and Arina set course for Gibral. She looked back with evident satisfaction as she watched the Iberian ships now sandwiching the Moorish pirates as the changed wind brought both fleets to close on the hapless corsairs. It was a rout.
All through the night, victorious but tired Iberian crews returned to Gibral with captured Moorish ships until Gibral’s harbour was full to overflowing.
Aiofe and Arina were everywhere sharing the joy of victory but it was a joy lessened by their brother’s hospitalisation. Nor would the doctors let them disturb him.
“The boy needs rest! Let him!” The doctor scolded them when the girls tried to revisit Drustan.
The following morning, Eric came to visit Aiofe and Arina at Appotel’s castle.
“I’ve come to offer my thanks, and how is your brother?”
“He still sleeps but the doctors say he’ll live.”
“Well I and my crew all owe him our thanks. He’s a quick thinker that lad and that was a brilliant stroke.”
“Tell us more,” begged the intrigued girls.
Eric related what parts of Drustan’s cunning had been seen by Iberian crewmen and the girls listened with avid interest, sometimes laughing and sometimes gasping with disbelief. Finally Eric reached behind his back and pulled a sword that Aiofe immediately recognised.
“By the War God Aeron, you’ve recovered his sword!” Aiofe shrieked joyously. “That’s his pride and joy!”
“Well then Drustan has yet another story to tell. It was found in the chest of Ibn Bin Gaar and the only one who could have put it there is your brother. Ibn Bin Gaar was the senior Moorish Admiral and a renowned swordsman. Have you any idea how your brother might have achieved this?”
“None whatsoever,” Aiofe confessed. “He was alone aboard the corsair ship, so only the Gods know what he was up to.”
Eric frowned.
“Damn! Another excellent saga but we’ll all have to wait until that crazy brother of yours is well enough to relate it.”
Aiofe wagged her head resignedly.
“You might have to wait a long time. He’s less and less prone to sounding his own trumpet. Usually the story only comes out of him if some romancer tells a load of cock and bull and my brother has to put the record straight. Then it’s usually some mundane, matter-of-fact remark. In truth, Drustan seems to be getting really tired of fighting.”
“Well there’s certainly no romance in what those fish did for your boat. Almost every lookout in both fleets saw The Angry Mermaid racing across the waves like a swooping falcon. That was no fantasy!”
“No. It wasn’t. Both Arina and I can vouch that we were travelling almost as fast as a horse could run. No, that was no fantasy.”
“So tell me then. Who is the magician that commands the fishes of the sea?” Eric asked.
Aiofe turned and smiled pointedly at Arina.
“That’s the girl! Don’t ask me how, but she and Drustan seem to have some affinity to the dolphins.”
Arina gasped her protest.
“Aiofe! You swore! Tell him! Tell him I’m not a magician!”
Aiofe grinned and explained to Eric about the dolphins that they had once saved. Eric nodded sagely.
“Yes. Dolphins are a special fish. They seem to be like dogs when it comes to understanding. So you think they remembered your good deed to the baby fish and they returned the favour.”
“That’s how we see it, isn’t it Arina?”
“Yes. That’s it exactly. We once saved one of their babies so they saved our baby.”
Eric smiled then fell to chuckling.
“Well that’s not how the Corsairs see it. They gave up when they realised that even the fishes of the sea were on the side of The Angry Mermaid. When they saw a score of porpoises towing the Mermaid at speed through the waves, it convinced them we have powerful magicians working for us and they gave up the fight. We might as well let them labour under that misapprehension.”
“Just so long as those stupid ‘One God priests’ don’t labour under the same misapprehension and start to believe I’m some sort of sorceress!” Arina added. “They’ve been known to burn unbelievers at the stake. First they say their one god is forgiving and merciful then they kill you by burning you at the stake after accusing you of being a pagan or whatever. It’s bloody crazy!”
“I know,” Eric agreed. “Carl and I have had the same issues. It’s only because we’ve served king Appotel so well that they’ve left us alone. May the gods protect us if those crazy priests and their three in one god ever get to be the masters?”
Arina fell silent. She was looking ahead and hoping that whenever Drustan took Aiofe to meet her betrothed Prince Magab, she would be allowed to accompany them. Arina had had issues with these cruel priests whilst Drustan and his sisters had been away from Gibral in Toledo fighting King Portega. They had tried to convert her to the teachings of their one god but Arina was not to be persuaded and they had eventually accused her of something called blasphemy. If these same men were to learn of her exploitation of the dolphin’s intelligence there would be no knowing what appalling accusations they would level at her. After a lifetime fishing on the sea, Arina well knew about dolphins and the uncanny relationships they could sometimes develop with fishermen if there was a situation to be mutually exploited. She swore Eric to secrecy.
“If any of those priests or anybody else asks you about the fish, play it down. Say that the Moors were hallucinating or making up stories to excuse their defeats. Just say the Mermaid is incredibly fast but the Moors wouldn’t believe their own eyes. The fish were just playing under the bow to test their speed against The Angry Mermaid’s. They often do that.”
Eric recognised the girl’s fears and agreed. Her story was plausible.
Having returned Drustan’s valuable Toledo sword to its rightful owner, Eric returned contentedly to the captured Moorish ships to supervise the share out of spoils. Aiofe and Arina joined Queen Bramana in her chambers where King Appotel later joined them.
As he entered, Aiofe was explaining about the dolphins. He sat down and listened avidly then turned to Arina.
“So you say that porpoises are clever, like dogs.”
Arina nodded.
“Yes my liege, - perhaps even cleverer.”
“And you’re saying that one of the porpoises recognised you.”
“No sire, we recognised him, we recognised Mabina’s handiwork with her needles. We think he recognised Drustan in the water.”
“And you’re saying that the dolphins supported his unconscious body. I’ve never heard of such fantasies.”
“It’s no fantasy sire. Many of my kinsmen would attest to the most amazing things happening with dolphins. Sadly most of my clan are now dead, butchered by Blueface’s pirates, just like Aiofe’s family. I have spent my short lifetime on the waves and it’s true! When Drustan is better, I will invite you out onto the great waters. If that family of friends are still swimming around here, I will show you! I am no sorceress; those fish are cleverer than dogs!”
Arina was so emphatic about her observations that Appotel let the matter rest. The most important thing for him was the defeat of the Corsairs and Drustan’s return to consciousness. He left to visit the harbour again, savour the spoils of victory and celebrate with his commanders.
The following morning, a very sore and delicate Drustan finally returned to the land of the living. Not for the first time, he found himself in a comfortable bed and his first sight was that of Aiofe and Arina looming over him with a large bowl of nourishing broth and waving his beloved sword. He croaked his thanks as the girls gently raised his bruised body upright and offered to spoon the broth into his mouth. He was about to refuse until he realised his arms and shoulders where as sore as his ribs where the porpoises had pummelled him to the surface. Gratefully he smiled his thanks and Arina slowly spooned the broth into his mouth while Aiofe held a carafe of fine red wine. She laid his beloved sword on the bed beside him and his grin widened with gratitude.
“Where did you find that?” He begged.
“Eric gave it to me. One of his crew recovered it from the body of Ibn Bin Gaar.”
“Wonder how it got there,” Drustan smirked.
Aiofe smirked back for she knew exactly how her brother’s mind worked.
“You know perfectly well how it got there, but Eric wants to know how you drove it in so hard and deep. The crewman who found the dead admiral was a powerful warrior and he said he had hell’s own job extracting it for it was jammed hard under the collar of Bin Saar’s cuirass.”
“I can’t imagine,” Drustan lied. “It must have been the heat of the moment. I was bloody frightened and just threw all my weight. He slashed back and caught my thigh almost at the hip, fortunately the rudder stock took some of the force of his blow but by then my sword was fully home.”
“Yes. We know where you were cut, another bloody tally to add to your score!”
“Pisht, it’s not a bad cut, just deep. Fortunately it was at a place where not much happens.”
“Rubbish brother. If Bin had owned a Toledo blade you’d have lost your bloody leg!”
“Well I can’t say as I remember much. It was all so fast. After that, I slipped out through the rudder opening. Next thing I remember was some bloody dolphins hitting me with their beaks and smacking me with their bloody flippers. Damn it! I’m sore!”
For answer, Aiofe took the mirror from Queen Bramana’s dressing table and showed Drustan his reflection. She explained the bruises as Drustan studied them.
“Your friends the porpoises saved you from drowning. All those conical shaped bruises on your chest are where they pummelled you and pushed you to the surface. You would have drowned without a trace otherwise. You should be thanking those fish, not cursing them.”
Drustan smiled ruefully as Aiofe elaborated.
“One of them was the fish our sister saved when she stitched its fin back. Arina recognised the stitches that she helped Mabina make. Maybe that’s why they saved you.”
Drustan shrugged dismissively.
“Yeah, lucky me. Is there any more of that broth?”
Aiofe and Arina exchanged smiles, ‘he was getting better!’
Within a few days, Drustan was on his feet hobbling with embarrassment as his wounds incapacitated him. Cracked ribs seemed to take forever to heal though the scar at the top of his thigh added to the mythology. Drustan never revealed the truth about how he had ‘driven the sword so hard’
‘Best to let the myth linger,’ he concluded. ‘There was already so much bullshit flying around that one more saga would hardly make a difference.’ He only hoped it wouldn’t attract any of those stupid ‘try it on’ heroes. To this end, he concentrated on getting the Mermaid shipshape and ready to speed his sister to Carthage. Drustan was tired of wandering and war. There was only one last battle he wanted to fight, namely the recovery of his beloved Lleyn.
The preparations were mainly effected by Carl and Eric who now had an intimate understanding of how the ‘Mermaid’ class of Iberian warships functioned. Aiofe made her own preparations, Arina won her argument with Drustan and Aiofe so she was to accompany them and soon the flotilla of three fast craft was ready to sail. Drustan had one last task. He had to slip aboard The Angry Mermaid and make a pretence of conducting some private pagan blessing as he dived below the moored Mermaid to recover the other half of the gold. The next morning with the gold safely buried under the filth of the bilges, they set sail.
The expedition from Gibral to Carthage was essentially an ambassadorial visit to confirm to the Carthaginians that the route through the Pillars of Hercules was now open to honest trading. However to Aiofe and Drustan the voyage had a far greater meaning.
As evidence of the newly won security, Isobel, the adopted daughter of Arton was despatched as the newly appointed ambassador. As a high ranking lady, it was a clear demonstration that the straits were now swept clear of Corsairs and safe for noble women to sail.
Comments are always appreciuated. And please note. Every body knows Porpoises and Dolphins are mammals. They didn't back then.
Once again. My sincerest thanks to D.
This chapter describes how Drustan (now becoming Drustina,) slips ashore in Carthage on a secret mission to determine the 'Lay of the land' after Mutas's coup.
The Angry Mermaid 17
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 17
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
The Lady Isobel watched the whitecaps with satisfaction as the prevailing westerly wind had returned to push the flotilla swiftly eastwards. In the new ‘Mermaid class’ of ships it was but a four day passage to Carthage. With each sunrise, Drustan sensed his older sister Aiofe getting more excited. He smiled at the lady Isobel and nudged Arina who both smiled back. They stopped briefly at the Island of Malta to pass the good news that the route to the great western sea was now clear. During their trading days before the Corsair predations, both Carl and Eric had met the prince of Malta several times and good relations were seemingly renewed; however the prince had disturbing news about Carthage.
“My brothers, we have had no ships arriving from Carthage this past autumn. Soon the winter winds will be upon us and none but the most foolhardy would venture forth during those storms. Something must have happened in Carthage. Normally there is a constant summer traffic of ships stopping in with grain going north and metals going south. Carthage may not be the great city it once was but it’s still a busy and prosperous place. They have recovered well from the ancient Punic wars. When the Romans sowed their fields with salt it took them hundreds of years to regain fertility. You may have to wait until the spring sailing season is upon us. Will you be overwintering here?”
Eric and Carl thought long and hard. They knew how violent the katabatic winds could be when they roared ferociously out of the northern gulfs of Lyon, Ionia and Adriatica. They discussed the impasse with Drustan and Aiofe. If a strong wind blew them south, their ships could fetch up on the North Nubian shore and be smashed to pieces. Winter was never a good time to sail in the Middle Sea. Circumspection and caution were Carl and Eric’s bywords for they were primarily trading men with a ‘retired’ sense of adventure after serving in the Saxon warships in their youth. Aiofe fretted at the news for come the Winter Solstice her betrothal contract was expired, nevertheless she was influenced by Eric and Carl and this caution irked Drustan.
“Do you not trust me sister? We have good charts and we are all good seamen. Furthermore, the Mermaid is a sound ship and well founded.”
“Could you get a message to him?” Aiofe suggested.
“Who shall I take? The Mermaid needs at least three to sail her on a sea passage just to round the watches. Besides, if it is as the Prince of Malta says, who knows what goes on in Nubia?”
“Take Torvel. I can replace him on Eric’s ship and sail in the spring.”
Drustan frowned. His sister had never doubted him before and he stalked away feeling offended. Fortunately, Torvel was more than glad to accompany a fellow Celt. He had never been comfortable as Eric’s second in command. He had been captured, badly treated by Saxon pirates and then sold on as a slave to the Corsairs after a forced march by slave traders from Belgie to Rome. To Torvel, the Saxons had been little better than the corsairs until he had suffered the same fate as Carl and Eric and found their friendship in mutual adversity. Drustan's reputation was also a factor influencing Torvel. There might be some more action and some more profit to be made.
The third crew-member was of course Arina. Drustan and Arina had become closely bonded by their shared trials and tribulations.
To avoid any dissuasive argument, the Angry Mermaid slipped out of Valetta Harbour on a cloudy night with a strong easterly wind. The guards had seen her go, but attached little importance to the departure. Drustan had been sailing into, out of and around Malta almost daily and occasionally at night as he familiarised himself with the islands and the conditions.
The winter storms proved to be every bit as violent as Carl and Eric had warned. Drustan learned another hard lesson as the wind backed around to the north. Katabatic winds took control as they flung themselves furiously off the Alps and spat their rage across the Middle Sea. Fortunately the Middle sea has few places with great fetch to a northerly wind but the force of the winds soon sets up a violent, short, steep, angry sea that is deadly for ships of a critical length. Once again, it was Drustan’s good fortune that the Mermaid was built for high seas and heavy breaking tops. The winds tried their best to knock her flat but her inherent stability and high freeboard gave her a seaworthiness second to none. Not for nothing had she survived just about anything the Great Western Sea could throw at her.
For twelve hours, Drustan let the Angry Mermaid run on a broad reach towards Pantalleria while the three took turns to hold their two hour tricks at the tiller. During his tricks, Torvel kept looking nervously at the high, short, foam-lashed waves. Drustan spent a lot of time consulting the newly copied charts and discussing a strategy with Arina.
They studied the charts and decided to lie up under the lee of Pantalleria before continuing their journey. It was another day before the Mistral blew itself out. The wind continued northerly, which suited the Angry Mermaid so the next morning, with the Atlas Mountains clearly visible, they set course for Carthage. By evening they were approaching the coast.
“Don’t seem to be many ships around,” Drustan observed conversationally.
“Must be this northerly wind,” Torvel replied. “That and the winter gales; this ship of yours is some piece of kit isn’t she?”
“Yeah she’s pretty handy.”
Arina snorted at Drustan’s apparent modesty.
“Huh. I’ll say she’s handy. Are we going to stand off for the night or try and make harbour tonight?”
“Try for an arrival. It’s a clear night and the wind is favourable; everybody agreeable?”
They all nodded. A night alongside at a secure berth was always favourable to a night bouncing around keeping station offshore. Drustan altered course to round the headland then spotted the tower that marked the harbour entrance.
“Shouldn’t that have a light on it?” He asked Arina who was already consulting the chart.
She nodded and shrugged. There could be a dozen reasons why the tower was unlit.
Cautiously, they picked their way shoreward as the light began to fail until they were completely enveloped by the night. They took in the mainsail and decided to just work slowly towards the tower feeling their way. Torvel took soundings while Arina worked the foresail and Drustan steered. Eventually, they made the harbour entrance and took all way off the Mermaid as they awaited some sort of reception. Nothing was forthcoming and the town appeared to be dead.
“It looks spooky,” Arina observed, “no sounds, no lights. Something’s not right.”
Even as she spoke, the whoosh of an arrow thunked into the rudder post and Drustan cursed as he felt the wind brush his face.
“Shit! Let’s go!”
They needed no further encouragement and the Mermaid put about to escape. Several more arrows whistled past the boat but thankfully none struck the crew. Thanks to the Mermaid’s speed and agility, they were soon speeding out of the harbour again.
“So now what,” Torvel wondered aloud.
“Stand off until daylight,” Drustan replied. “Whatever’s going on, something’s not right.”
“We’ll have to keep a bloody watch as well,” Arina cursed. “They’re not friendly either.”
They chose lots to share the watches and settled down for the night. Drustan had lowered a small anchor stone to the bottom and if they had to run quickly it could easily be cut loose or recovered by Torvel or Drustan.
Dawn arrived and with it a flotilla of craft emerged from the harbour. Drustan and Torvel cautiously raised the anchor stone and set the Mermaid for flight. Arina took the rudder as Torvel and Drustan nocked arrows into their bows. Having demonstrated their preparedness to fight, they waited as the flotilla approached. Then Drustan hailed across the gap.
“That’s close enough.”
“Who are you?” came drifting across the water.
“We are seafarers, isn’t that obvious?” Drustan shouted again unimpressed by the seemingly aggressive inquiry.
“Why did you sneak into the harbour by night?”
“We didn’t sneak. Our running light was lit,” Arina screeched angrily for the running light was her responsibility.
“You had no permission to enter!” came drifting across the water by reply.
“Since when do we need permission? We are not at war!” Torvel added his voice.
“That is the law in Carthage! You need permission.”
Drustan fell silent. When Prince Magab had offered Aiofe his hand and Aiofe had accepted there had been no intimations of permissions or restrictions to enter his father’s kingdom. Drustan became suspicious as the voice came across the water again.
“You must follow us into harbour now.”
Drustan turned to Arina.
“Make sail cousin. I’m not going in. Something’s wrong. It could be a trap. Quickly now, let’s go!”
Arina needed no second bidding for her suspicions were beginning to grow as well. She and Torvel hauled on the sheets and the
Mermaid sprang to attention. Within seconds she was dancing across the waves leaving astonished Carthaginians floundering in her wake. The three Celts smiled as they watched the frantic activity in the Carthaginian ships as they struggled to respond. It was pointless. With every passing wave, Mermaid was putting distance and safety between them. Once they were free and clear over the horizon, they took stock.
“So what now?” Torvel wondered. “They didn’t even let us declare our identities.”
“Well actually they did ask who we were but I was already suspicious. Something’s wrong in Carthage,” Drustan replied.
“Yes, but what?” Arina added. “Who is this Prince Magab and why are his people so hostile to strangers? I mean - an uninvited arrow! That’s just not friendly, is it?”
“Exactly.” Drustan agreed. “Magab enjoyed our unfettered hospitality when he visited us and he seemed an urbane and cultured prince. That’s why Aiofe fell so much for him.”
“Well that wasn’t a cultured reception was it?” Torvel growled.
“No. Indeed it wasn’t. That’s why I want to find out what’s going on.” Drustan frowned.
“And how?” Torvel asked.
“I’m going back. Not into the harbour, not into the town, we’ll make a landing and you can put me ashore further west. Where the mountains meet the sea.”
“That would be several days walk back to the city.”
“Time enough perhaps for me to get a feel of the situation, to find out what’s happening.”
“And what do we do while you’re ashore?”
“Go back to Malta. Warn Aiofe, Carl and Eric. Tell the Prince of Malta or those strange knights who live there. Come back for me on the winter solstice then every new moon after that until the Summer solstice next year. If I am not back by then, give up on me and make your own plans.”
Arina and Torvel fell silent. Then Arina spoke.
“Why are you so hell-bent on finding out?”
“For my sister Aiofe. I do not wish to see her hurt. If Magab’s kingdom is as aggressive and abusive as it seems then I would know of it. Aiofe would die like a bird in a cage if this Carthage is as it seemed to us. She is and always was a free spirit.”
“Yeah, like you,” Torvel grinned.
“Exactly, comrade; exactly like me.” Drustan agreed emphatically. “So are you with me in this?”
“Seems there’s no other way,” Arina sighed.
“Good, then let’s make haste and westering before another bloody Mistral is upon us.”
They slackened the sheets and paid off the Mermaid's bow from a north-westerly to a westerly course as the mountains came back under the Mermaid’s port bow. Then they consulted the charts.
“That seems a likely bay. Come within a thousand paces of the headland at night and I will swim my way ashore.”
“Then we’d best change the sails to the leather ones. If we are to use subterfuge this time, the leather sails are darker.” Arina suggested.
The men nodded and promptly set about the task as Arina kept a straight and steady course. By nightfall they were closing the coast under darkness and by the middle hour, Drustan was ashore with bow, sword and dagger just as the moon was rising. Using Norse pyrites and flint, he lit a small signal fire behind some rocks but visible to the sea then watched with satisfaction in the moonlight as the Mermaid recognised the signal that Drustan was safe ashore. Then she turned about and sped rapidly eastwards back to Malta. By morning, Drustan was trekking along the coast road to Carthage.
It took Drustan seven days to get back to Carthage. For four of those days Damara’s curse beset him and he had to rest by a stream until the cramps were subsided and the blood from ‘Blueface’s Wound’ ceased to flow.. Three days later, a footsore and hungry young ‘woman’ plodded wearily through the city gates under the pretence of being a shepherdess from the country. The long bow that would have immediately invited curiosity from the city guards had been carefully hidden. The sword and the dagger were well secreted under the nondescript full-length rags on Drustan’s back. Nobody noticed Drustan’s filthy, yellow hair but already Drustan had garnered much information in the villages and market places that lined the coastal road. Apparently, Magab’s younger brother Mutas had murdered his father to claim the throne while Magab had disappeared.
For several days, Drustan lingered in the cheapest inns gathering information whilst watching brutal executions being performed daily in the square as supporters of the old king were sought out, taken prisoner then despatched without trial. Fortunately, nobody took much notice of a common ‘shepherdess’ in filthy rags. Eventually, he learned that Magab had probably escaped and taken refuge in the mountains where lots of his father’s supporters had also gone to hide. Drustan also learned of the hatred for Prince Mutas and his henchmen. However he also knew there was little he could do alone. It would take a powerful force or some cunning subterfuge to remove this brute. The only things Drustan had going for him was his female anonymity and his sword. Few people bothered to investigate a stupid gangling shepherdess from the country.
Having gathered what information he could, he left the city and its blood-letting then made for the hills.
On the road after a day of trudging, he made shelter behind an old cromlech and prepared to settle for the night. As dusk fell, he killed a couple of rabbits with his bow that he had recovered from its hiding place and he was going to light a fire when a patrol of soldiers appeared marching down the road. At the same time, a couple of girls appeared hurrying up the road and leading a train of donkeys laden with farm produce; mostly fruit and vegetables. They were pretty girls and Drustan stood back into the shadows of the cromlech as they stepped daintily past whilst eyeing the soldiers nervously. Inevitably the soldiers spied the girls and being new recruits to Mutas’s ranks, they immediately presumed that anything was theirs for the taking. They stopped the girls under the pretence of examining their donkey loads for contraband. The search quickly degenerated into an assault as the four soldiers decided they would not only test the vegetables but also the other delights that the girls had to offer. Within minutes the girls were crying to be left alone. Eventually, Drustan could accept the situation no longer. Three of the soldiers were trying to rape one girl whilst the fourth was restraining her companion. He decided as common rapists, they weren’t worthy of a challenge or a warning and he silently nocked his bow. Through a gap in the rocks of the ancient burial stones, Drustan drove an arrow deep into the fourth soldier’s ribs. He let out a groan and fell immediately to the floor. The released girl let out a scream that alerted the three rapists and they span around to stare uncomprehendingly at their fallen comrade. By the time they had gathered their wits and drawn their swords, a second soldier lay gargling in the road with an arrow in his throat.
‘Two more to go’, concluded Drustan as the fools stood back to back to face an unseen foe.
The sheer lunacy of gathering close together when it was abundantly obvious that their foe was an archer could not have better demonstrated their lack of basic military training. The obvious thing to do would have been to separate. Shrugging his shoulders, Drustan sent a third arrow streaking into the third soldier’s chest and his companion wailed in terror for he still had no idea of Drustan’s location. He debated despatching the fourth rookie then suddenly changed his mind.
‘Better to somehow befriend the girls and perhaps elicit some local intelligence,' he thought.
He slipped from behind the rocks and stepped silently into the road. Then speaking very softly, almost in a whisper, he spoke to the petrified rookie.
“Turn and face me, rapist!”
The rookie span around in terror and presented his sword as he encountered what had already been the nemesis of his comrades. Pointing straight at his heart was another arrow. Behind that arrow was a pair of flat expressionless grey eyes. The eyes of certain death. Behind the eyes was a tall rather attractive ‘maid’!
“I yield!”
“To what?”
“To you.”
The arrow shot from the bow and at such close range, it drove through the rookie’s chest and the tip emerged at his back. The girls screamed again but the road was a lonely place now. For dramatic effect, Drustan said nothing and stepped behind the cromlech again to resume cooking his rabbits. For long moments the girls stared at the four corpses then exchanged nervous looks before whispering fearfully.
“Are you alright Sister?”
“My wrists are sore, my body bruised and my dress is torn but they got no further. How are you?”
“My wrists also and my neck where that vermin wrenched it.” She pointed a contemptuous toe towards the soldier who had restrained her then peered at the rock behind which they could now see the glow of Drustan’s little fire.
“Who is she sister? Who is this tall lithesome maid who knows weapons?” one asked the other.
“I know not, but one to whom we owe everything. These are the brutes that killed old mother Esther in the village last week. She was trying to protect her granddaughter.”
The girls held hands and carefully stepped behind the rocks. Drustan heard the light maidenly footfall and knew they were approaching but he deliberately waited, pretending not to hear their approach until the last moment. Then he bounced to his feet, reached over his shoulder and whipped his gleaming Toledo blade from its careworn leather shoulder scabbard as he span to face them. The girls found themselves staring at a shining blade reflecting in the flames of Drustan’s fire. They both squealed in terror as the blade stopped inches from their faces.
“Never sneak up like that sisters. Death hates surprises.”
They stared fearful but uncomprehending, then the older sister found her voice.
“Who is death?”
Drustan flicked his gleaming Toledo sword and it flashed dramatically in the growing flames while he declared himself as female to perpetuate his anonymity.
“This, this is my sword. He is called 'Death' . There is my bow, she is called 'Liberty'. I am Drustan though some know me as Drustina! I am the child of Caderyn, grandchild of Erin. These are my companions, Liberty and Death.”
Drustina knew it sounded cheesy and melodramatic but it was effective. The girls had just seen her despatch four soldiers whilst hardly turning a single strand of her long blond hair. She lowered her sword then smiled easily.
“Will you eat? It is only humble rabbit but at least I took them honestly with my bow. They were wild. I am no thief.”
The girls looked at the fire with two large, fat rabbits slowly roasting and a small copper pot with some boiling water. It was dark now and already, since the coup by Mutas, the rule of law was breaking down. It would be dangerous to continue through the night.
“We could add some vegetables to that pot sister Drustina, and share your meal. We have some bread also.”
Drustan smiled and his belly rumbled in anticipation. He had not yet eaten that day.
“It sounds like a welcome feast sisters. Join me if you will. I will hide the bodies.”
The girls eagerly set about enlarging the meal with assorted produce from their loaded donkeys. Then Drustan unloaded the donkeys and explained.
“The further from the road I dump the bodies, the longer it will be before anybody finds them.”
“Is there anything of value about them?” asked the younger girl.
“Take nothing. Not even coin, then nothing can be traced to you.”
The girls nodded as Drustan loaded the corpses onto the protesting donkeys and bore them off across the fields until he found a ravine with some thick bushes. The bodies were quickly despatched into the dense cover and he returned, covering the hoof and foot tracks. By the time he had swept away all the evidence, the girls had a meal fit for a king or so it seemed to Drustan’s rumbling stomach. The pair grinned as they ate delicately whilst he wolfed by far the larger share. He realised this when the food was almost gone.
“Oh! I’m sorry. That was unforgivable. You finish what’s left.”
“No,” replied the older girl, “we only gave you bread, fruit and roots, you gave us our lives. For that we thank you.”
“Are you sure?” He double checked. “For I have a mighty hunger!”
“No. You eat it. We ate at noon before we left to go to the market.”
“How far is it to that market?”
“An hour with the burdened beasts. We lost time on the road this afternoon avoiding some suspicious looking gangs.”
“And are you going now in the dark, or starting again in the morning?”
“The morning. The roads get more dangerous with every week. Will you accompany us?”
“In the morning, yes. For now I sleep.”
The sisters produced a blanket each and settled around the fire garnering what little comfort it offered. Drustan chose a hollow at the foot of the rock that gathered the fire’s rays and simply curled up in his shepherdess’s rags. Both sisters decided there was no threat and smiled at each other in the firelight as they studied the huddled bundle that blocked any approach from the road. It looked for the entire world like a bundle of rags but the sisters knew better.
At dawn, they were pleased to find the fire rekindled and a small deer already skinned and dressed. Obviously this strange warrior vagabond had already been ‘a-hunting’. As they moved away from the camp to do their toilet beyond a small stream they espied Drustan about the same duty. He had just finished undressing then, as he slipped silently into the shallow pool, they glimpsed the notorious scar on his arse and all the other lesser marks. The sisters gasped at the numerous scars as the older girl realised the significance.
“My God! Those are not scars of rite sister, those are real wounds. Who is this maid?”
They continued watching for a few minutes then, as the younger sister craned forward for a better look, the branch she balanced on gave way with a loud crack. She ended up on the edge of the pool at the naked Drustan’s feet. He looked down at her and wagged his head smiling.
“The pool is all yours, I’m finished here.”
Then without a backward look, he gathered up his rags and returned to the camp.
As he passed them stark naked, both sisters got a full unrestricted view of his manhood and his bare breasts in addition to the huge scar down the cheek of his arse. They were shocked into silence for several seconds before the older sister found her voice.
“Did you just see what I just saw? A maid with a man’s parts.”
The younger sister nodded nervously as they debated stripping to wash.
“D’you think we are safe?”
“Well he left us safe last night and he did not approach us. He must be some sort of god or something.”
The girls crept back to the campfire and crouched behind some bushes trying to decide what to do. They saw the flames from his fire increase as he added some more wood. It was clear that he had no interest in them as he addressed the cooking deer on the spit. They decided to continue their toilet so they indulged themselves in the clear fresh pool. When they returned, they were pleased to see that he had prepared a breakfast with venison and some of their farm produce; clear evidence that the stranger had not bothered to leave the fire to spy on them washing. Here indeed was a strange but real gentleman even if a dangerous one.
As they ate, the sisters wondered if to ask the stranger of her strange form.
“Are you a man or a woman?” The older sister finally ventured.
Drustan looked at her and shrugged then added to the riddle.
“In this country, I travel as a maid. People are less interested in maids except when they are alone.”
“But you are alone. What if those soldiers had met you on the road?”
“If they had tried to do to me what they tried to do to you, they would have died by my sword just as surely and just as quickly as they did by my bow. Death and Liberty take few prisoners.”
“You mean your sword and your bow.” The younger girl confirmed un-necessarily.
Drustan nodded then got easily to his feet and declared he was resuming his journey.
“If you want my protection girls then we must be away soon.”
The girls realised they could truly trust the stranger for at no time had they sensed a single threat. They finished the meal and set off along the road until they came to the market town. There, the sisters were pleased to offload their produce while Drustan bid them farewell and visited a tavern. Despite telling the girls not to rob the soldier’s corpses of coin, he had not followed his own advice. Necessity had driven him to take their money before he tossed their bodies into the ravine. With the money, he purchased some beer and sat silent in a corner listening for any snippet of information that might lead to finding Magab’s whereabouts in the mountains. Several men debated approaching the strange shepherdess until they noticed the handle of a sword discreetly appear from under her rags. In these days of increasing lawlessness, everybody had taken to carrying a weapon, even women.
In the taverns nothing much was forthcoming and by noon he was back on the road out of the town and leading up into the mountains. What he didn’t know was that the sisters had been previous victims of Prince Mutas’s oppression when their brother had been murdered by soldiers acting to enforce his dictate. Since the death of their brother, they were supporters of Magab and that same evening they were telling their experiences to one of Magab’s sixth column scouts. They described the stranger as a maid for that was how she chose to present herself. Magab’s scout thanked them for the information.
“Well whoever she is, she would be a useful soldier for Prince Magab to have on his side. We need every sword and bow we can muster. A foreigner you say and you left her at the market place,” the scout pressed.
“Yes while we were trading our produce to one of the stall holders, she left us and we never saw her again. All I can say is that she has cruel grey eyes, striking yellow hair and more scars than a gladiator. She carries a bow that everybody can see for it is longer than the usual bow, but she also carries a remarkable sword. She hides it behind her back in a shoulder scabbard hidden under her rags.”
“And she has a dagger.” The younger sister added. “This is under her breasts beneath the same rags and invisible. Also she kills without compunction, all in all a deadly foe.”
“But a good friend it seems, if she saved your lives and fed you meat,” the scout offered.
“Yes, and she respected our modesty when we bathed. Under that deadly countenance there is an honourable soul who will see justice done.”
“Well with a strange bow and yellow hair, she should not be hard to find. Thank you sisters, I will seek her out. Magab desperately needs warriors.”
And so the scout set about tracing the stranger, who despite her unusual attributes actually proved impossible to find.
Everybody remembered about the stranger for it was a small town and the tavern keeper could readily recall that the yellow-haired maid had purchased some beer, cheese and bread then left without saying much else. However, after leaving the tavern, she had seemingly disappeared. Obviously, the maid knew how to make herself ‘invisible’. It took the scout a day of discreet enquiries before he learned from one sharp eyed old woman that a scruffy, yellow-haired, ‘vagabond’ in rags had apparently taken the steep, winding road westwards into the wild mountains.
‘She looked and smelt like a shepherdess,’ the old woman continued, ‘but she carried a bow, probably to drive off lions in the high Atlas Mountains.’
The scout smiled with satisfaction after finally having located one sharp-eyed villager who could vaguely remember such a character. He set off on his horse at a steady trot. The horse betrayed the scout’s approach and Drustan was well hidden as the man trotted past bent upon his mission. To Drustan, it seemed strange for a rider to be taking a road that was growing progressively steeper, narrower and rougher; less and less a road for a horse and more and more a narrow, rocky path. He set off behind the man carefully keeping out of sight.
Wherever the man was bound, he had little further to ride for a steep escarpment lay across the path and Drustan could see little of a road that would accommodate a horse. The path however could be seen as a clear narrow testing climb for a man prepared to scramble over rocks and actually climb the rocks hand over hand. To a boy born amongst the mountains of Lleyn and Yr Wyddfa, this presented no problems. To Drustan’s surprise however, the horse and rider suddenly disappeared seemingly straight into the rock.
He had looked away to the north and distant blue haze of the Middle Sea for a moment and when he returned to study the rider he had gone.
‘There must be a fissure or crack in the rock face,’ he concluded. ‘And if wherever the scout was bound was that cleverly concealed, then it was a safe bet that it was well guarded.’ A direct approach up the road would reveal him to any guards or lookouts and Drustan did not want to be revealed - just yet.
He stepped off the path and made his way to the base of the escarpment through a tangle of scrub and small trees. After resting briefly and finishing off the last of his cheese, he scouted the rock-face for a route and eventually decided on a narrow cleft that not only had ledges and shelves to rest but it also hid him from any watchers viewing the escarpment face from the road.
With climbing skills long ago home-grown in Cymru, he was soon high up the cliff.
To his joy, about two thirds up the cleft he found a shelf with an overhang that enabled him to look down on the road without being seen from above. He was pleased to learn that his fears had been correct. From his vantage point, he could look down on the road to see several guards hidden behind rocks and he also had a clear view of the fissure where the road became a narrow path and the horse and rider would have had to squeeze through. No man could ever have fought through the crack. Whoever was hiding amongst the mountains had chosen their lair well. It was impregnable from conventional attack.
Convention however was Drustan’s weak point.
The last pitch of the climb proved to be much more difficult. It was a ‘chimney’ of rock and Drustan decided to take a longer rest before tackling it. He was to be thankful he did. As he ‘chimney-walked’ his slow way up the narrow tube of rock he felt his scarred buttock start to weaken. It was the first time he had even been incapacitated by the deep wound and he cursed as the sweat started to break out. His growing ‘breasts’ didn’t help either for the band around his back had to be removed as he pushed his back up the cleft. The breast support he had fashioned had to be removed and his breasts bounced free. As he pushed and levered himself up the chimney, his breasts started to bounce and wobble annoyingly. His arse began to ache alarmingly for Blueface’s sword cut must have sliced through some muscle mass and it still hadn’t healed properly after nearly three years. Drustan cursed and grunted as he was forced to ‘limp’ up the last twenty paces of the chimney to the top of the cliff. He collapsed exhausted on the hot sun-bleached rock and swore as he burnt his back. Shattered by his efforts, he lurched drunkenly to his feet and stumbled to some shade to rest again. To his relief, the shady hollow also proved to have a small seep of water and he drank greedily of the crystal clear pool. He knew there was water nearby for he had heard the water drips echoing amongst the rocks as he climbed up the chimney. Once refreshed and rested, he fingered the myriad of bleeding scratches on his back where he had pressed bare-back against the faces of the chimney. He did his best to wash them then settled down to wait for the cool of the evening before venturing forth. On the ridge of the escarpment, he found scrub and he quickly shot another rabbit with his bow. He knew he could survive on rabbit for a few days but no longer. It caused diarrhoea. Fortunately, he hoped to be in better circumstances by then. With dead scrub wood, he lit a fire and ate the rabbit with a few wild roots he had found. That and the water nourished him, so he set about finding what the hidden men were doing in the lair in the rocks.
Moving quietly amongst the early evening shadows, he eventually found a lookout post where three men were talking softly. Drustan settled silently into a comfortable cleft and listened. They seemed disenchanted with their lot and were discussing ways to better their circumstances.
“I tell you he moved too slowly. He should have fought back there and then whilst they were still disorganised. Now they tighten their grip every day. It’ll take an army to shift them.”
“Who’s army? The king’s men all but betrayed him but for a few loyal troops and now there is virtually nobody. How many of us hide up in these mountains?”
“About a thousand or so but most of them are just farmers and peasants.”
“Who are growing hungrier by the day! We cannot stay bottled up in these hills much longer. We’ll starve.”
“Yes, already there’s talk of mutiny in the camp. If this Prince Magab does not move soon, the support will drift away.”
At the mention of Magab’s name, Drustan had heard enough but he continued listening until he had established that these were definitely Magab’s men and that they were still loyal - but only just. Morale in the camp was low. As the guards went on to discuss other issues, Drustan listened until he had garnered enough information and the night had fallen. Silently, he rose from his hiding point and appeared in front of the men like some ghostly wraith. All three cursed as one and sprang apart like well trained troops as they snatched their swords. Drustan spoke very softly.
“Put your swords down gentlemen, if I had wanted to kill you I would have done so during the daylight.”
“Who the hell are you girl?” Cursed the older man, obviously the senior.
“Drustina, ferch Caderyn ap Erin.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Long enough, I would talk with your leader Prince Magab.”
“How did you get here? We guard the path and there is no other way.”
Drustan shrugged, he was not about to reveal his skills or secrets.
“Your leader please, Prince Magab, I will speak with him.”
“Surrender your weapons.”
Drustan handed his bow and his precious sword to the older man who examined it enviously.
“Who made this?”
“His name is stamped on the guard. My name is on the hilt.”
“It’s a Toledo blade!”
“It is indeed and it’s a good one. Guard it well for if it is gone when I return, you’ll pay with your life.”
The older man glanced up and sensed the resolve in the maid’s eyes. In the firelight, he could not make out the cold, grey, emotionless hardness. He motioned to the younger watchman.
“You’d better take her down to Magab.”
“But what if there are more of them? They might be more hiding out there even as we speak.”
The older man hesitated, his companion was right. He would be a fool to separate his meagre force of three men.
“We will wait until the changing of the guard.”
“We won’t.” Drustan argued. “I have little time. If I must, I will send a message.”
“How?”
“Pass me my bow.”
The old soldier eyed him curiously but returned the bow to the stranger. Drustan took a piece of bright green leaf from a bush and pinned it to a tree some hundreds of paces away. Then he returned to the watchmen and nocked an arrow into his bow. Moving steadily, he took aim and fired. The three lookouts were stupefied by the range and the accuracy and gasped as one. In daylight it would have been a superb shot, in the dim firelight it was almost superhuman. Drustan turned to them and repeated his earlier statement.
“As I said, if I’d wanted - you’d have been dead long ago. Now, please gentlemen have you some skin or strong leaf.”
They looked at him askance so he reluctantly produced the rabbit skin from his own rags, cut off a small square then took some ash from the fire. With a sharp stick he wrote ‘Drustan and Aiofe!’
The illiterate guards now realised that they were dealing with somebody of substance - a female warrior who could write letters but was dressed in rags. This was a rare beast indeed. Drustan secured it as tightly as he could to the shaft of the arrow and crept down the path to reduce the range. Once confident, he aimed the arrow towards a tree by the main campfire and fired. It ended with a satisfying ‘THUNK’ and several startled soldiers sprang to protect their prince. One of them had the sense to see the rabbit skin around the shaft so he recovered the arrow and presented it to Magab.
Magab read it and frowned fearfully as he organised his men.
“Find out who bloody fired this arrow, it must have come from up there.”
Immediately, a party dashed out to the lookout post and found the three lookouts guarding their precious responsibility. The sergeant demanded to know what was afoot and the senior guard explained. The sergeant stared hard into Drustan’s impassive face and commanded her to follow them down to the camp. Drustan turned to the old watchman.
“I’ll have my sword back please.”
The watchman handed it to him and gasped as Drustan flipped it back into its shoulder scabbard with practised ease. The sergeant also noticed the move and realised he was in the presence of a well practiced and skilful swordsman.
“I think I’d better take care of that.”
“You’ll not,” Drustan cautioned, “you’ll send a verbal message to Prince Magab that Drustan son of Caderyn son of Erin is come and requests an immediate audience.”
“But you are a maid!”
“Am I? Take me to Prince Magab and that will be made clear to you.”
“Where have you come from?”
“Just tell him that Drustan is here. Prince Magab will know.”
“You’re a cheeky young bitch for one so young.”
“Are we going to stand here all night. Let’s just follow your messenger down the trail.”
Drustan’s confidence began to impress the sergeant so he despatched the messenger then pointed with his sword down the path.
“You lead and I’ll follow. No sudden moves now, my sword is right at your back.”
Drustan shrugged and stepped easily down the path. The sergeant in his coat of mail had difficulty keeping up with the nimble footed, mountain bred ‘maid’. All eyes turned in the camp as the filthy ‘beggar girl’ emerged from the rocks followed by a panting, cursing sergeant.
Magab stared disbelievingly at the ragged apparition.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
“Did you not get my note?”
“The arrow! With the rabbit skin! That was some risk.”
“It was fast and got an immediate response. I am Drustan. My sister Aiofe awaits your pleasure in Malta. She fears that the betrothal contract is expired.”
Magab’s eyes widened and softened as he slowly reached the conclusion that this vagabond was truly the Gangani child from faraway Cymru. His eyes widened as the ‘child’ stepped into the brighter firelight. He gasped disbelievingly.
“But, - but you’re a maid! Drustan is a boy!”
For an answer Drustan, took out his manhood and peed onto the campfire. As the steam and stink erupted, Magab let out a yelp of surprised delight.
“Oh by the gods, it is you!”
As a final test, Prince Magab asked Drustan his sister’s full name in Welsh.
For reply, Drustan stated, in Welsh, that he had three sisters Aiofe, Tara, and his twin Mabina.
“So of which of my sisters d’you ask my prince?”
Drustan didn’t wait for an answer for he knew of which maid Magab was asking. It was his ‘double check’. Drustan smiled and grinned knowingly.
“Don’t worry my lord, I know which of my sisters is your concern. She is only concerned about the contract of betrothal expiring.”
“It would never expire my boy; I would wait until the ends of the earth for her to come. Sadly, I am without my kingdom. But come, we will speak alone.”
“I am no longer a boy Magab,” Drustan countered. “I hold ranks through all of Southern Iberia and Lusitania.”
“So the stories from Rome and Gaul, the scar-arse, was that truly you?”
For answer, Drustan tugged aside his tattered rags to reveal the spectacular scar. His buttocks were still weeping from the scratches and cuts whilst climbing the rocky chimney, but the huge, angry scar was clearly visible. Drustan flung the ragged tails back around his body and swore.
“Once and only once do I show it! Even to kings! I’m bloody tired of the mythology. Now to business.”
“What business?” Magab replied.
“The business of recovering your rightful inheritance.”
Magab sighed.
“That is a doubtful business. My brother Mutas gets stronger by the day.”
“Aye; and crueller by the hour. I saw four of his soldier’s attempted handiwork but a few days ago.”
“What! The four corpses on the coast road by the ancient cromlech of Hamran? What do you know of that?”
Drustan frowned thoughtfully.
“What! Have they been discovered already? They must have been searching hard to find the corpses then. I left them well secreted in the ravine.”
“That’s not surprising Drustan, one of those soldiers was my cousin. He was the son of my uncle who murdered my father and helped Mustas steal the throne. Half the army were searching for him.”
“By the gods,” Drustan grinned. “It gets deeper and dirtier.”
“So it was you who killed them!”
“They deserved it, they were trying to rape two maids. By the way, are the maids alright?”
“To know that, I know then it must have been you. Yes the maids are safe. Nobody in this camp but my trusty scout and I knew about the maids. They spoke to him of the ragged vagabond with her bow.”
Drustan spread his hands and opened his rags like a maid curtseying as he smiled. “Your servant sir, the ragged, maidenly vagabond.”
“Oh get up you fool. Still I’m impressed. Was that a dagger I saw under your rags?”
“Yes and a sword if you wish it.”
To demonstrate, Drustan’s arm flashed back over his shoulder and the sword appeared miraculously fast in his hand. Magab’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Are you as good with that as the bow.”
“Some might say better. Blueface for one, were he alive to say it; though it was not this sword that killed him. I was but a boy then. This was a ‘thank-you’ from King Pilus.”
Drustan flexed the sword skilfully in his hand before Magab reached out to examine the blade and he smiled approvingly.
“A Toledo blade, those Iberians must think highly of you if they forged this for you. I only ever received a ceremonial sword as an ambassadorial gift, this is truly a weapon of war.”
“Yes. Both Pilus and Appotel agreed it would have been an insult to offer me a ceremonial toy. This was tailor-made and I hold it dear. Now enough of chit-chat. To business. How are we to win back your kingdom?”
Magab’s shoulders slumped as he confessed.
“In truth, I don’t know. What strategies and tactics can a disenfranchised Prince employ?”
Drustan sighed. He had only ever been involved in short decisive battles. He could see this would be a protracted campaign.
“How long have we got?”
“The rest of my life,” Magab conceded, “I have nothing else to live and fight for.”
“I don’t know how we’ll fight this war either, but I know a girl who will.”
Magab’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“A girl? Who? You?”
“Uuhhm no. Another girl. A girl of rare wit and cunning, a girl who understands strategy , a girl who one day is determined to become your wife.”
“But what would that girl know of war and battles?”
Drustan smiled, almost indulgently.
“It’s been a long time since you parted from my sister. She and Mabina and I have travelled a long journey together. Now, when is the next new moon?”
“Is this some sort of soothsayer magic?” Magab frowned.
“Not at all. When it’s as dark as Stygia is when I make my secret moves. The night is my best friend. So how many days to the new moon?”
Magab consulted an almanac and smiled.
“Ten days from now.”
“Good. I must be on the coast that night. A speedy boat will return me to Malta. You may join me if you wish. Aiofe awaits you there.”
Magab’s eyes teared up as a light illuminated his smile.
“Yes. Yes, I will sail with you to the ends of the earth to cast eyes upon her again.”
Magab and Drustan talked long into the night as Drustan related his and his sister’s adventures while Magab described the disasters that had befallen him. As dawn arrived, both of them fell asleep. When the servant came to rouse them for a very late breakfast, Drustan was dishevelled and the servant noticed the vicious scar on Drustan’s bare arse, not to mention Drustan’s male parts. Within minutes the news was flashing around the camp.
It was true! The beggar girl was indeed a boy and was indeed Drustan Scar-arse. Morale in the camp rose appreciably as men took hope.
Four days later, Drustan and Magab disappeared from the secret camp. Six days later in pitch darkness, a small boat swept into a remote bay and embarked two unknown passengers. Seven days later, Magab’s chief scout reassured the gathered fighters that their leader had not deserted them.
Drustan now very much becoming Drustina gets involved in moves to circumvent Mutas's usurption of Magab's throne whilst the Angry Mermaid proves her worth as a ship for all seasons.
The Angry Mermaid 18.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 18
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
The signal fire had been spotted and the crew of The Angry Mermaid swept into the isolated empty bay. A brief pair of lights flickered from The Mermaid’s rail and two figures slipped silently from the African shore into the waves. The Mermaid sped towards the flickering fire and soon the saturated passengers were hauled from the water. Arina and Torvel hesitated, they recognised their comrade Drustan but the other fellow was unknown to them. As Arina and Torvel reached over to haul Drustan inboard they whispered.
“Who’s the other guy Drustan?”
“Prince Magab.”
“By the Gods of war!” Torvel Chuckled softly. “I’ll be damned if we haven’t got Aiofe tending the tiller! She refused to be denied.”
Drustan glanced aft and failed to see the face of the cloaked figure huddled over the tiller. Then she looked up and smiled as she acknowledged her brother. Drustan smiled back as he changed to dry clothes but he felt the double thrill of anticipation as he pictured the reunion between Magab and Aiofe. Savouring the forthcoming moment, he first helped to haul the frozen figure aboard.
Drustan had emerged from the waves feeling little chilled by the Middle sea. Its water to him, raised in the cold Celtic seas, seemed benign but his body was still much cooled by the exposure. Magab was another matter. Born of the hot Nubian climes and accustomed to altogether warmer conditions, he was suffering badly from exposure as Torvel, Drustan and Arina struggled to haul the almost comatose body aboard. Arina whispered.
“By the Gods, I swear another hour and this man would have been dead. We’ll have to warm him.”
“Well I know just the remedy, grinned Drustan as he nodded to the preoccupied figure at the tiller.”
Torvel and Arina grinned as Drustan stepped aft to relieve the figure at the helm.
“So what’s the news?” Aiofe begged. “Did you manage to find Magab, has he been usurped.”
Drustan smiled to himself; hardly able to contain the secret bundled up in rags by the spare sails.
“I’ll tell you later sister. Right now, there’s a figure that needs a body’s warmth and I’m too cold and wet to be of any good. Best you help Arina and Torvel warm him with your heat. Look they are preparing to cuddle him as we speak. Let me take the helm please.”
“Who is he?” Aiofe asked.
“He’s an important arbiter who will have the authority to ask for the Knights of Malta’s help. Magab will need all the help he can muster.”
Aiofe sighed and picked her way forward to apply her body heat to the suffering passenger. Drustan cast a weather eye to the night sky as he savoured the smooth hand-polished feel of his beloved companion’s tiller. Then he swung her tiller, hauled hard on the main sheets and turned The Mermaid sharp about. As she heeled violently, Aiofe staggered and fell heavily against the saturated huddle of humanity and he croaked pitifully.
“Mercy comrade I perish with the damned cold.”
“Pisht thee brother,” Aiofe scoffed, “tis but a chill. I‘ve felt it colder in hell than these climes.”
The bundle stirred and whispered both in hope and disbelief.
“Is that you Aiofe?”
Aiofe gasped and squealed with shocked delight as she finally recognised the shivering, ragged heap though she could hardly believe her senses.
“Magab! Magab! Is that truly you?”
“Yes my beloved. Warm me, please warm me.”
Aiofe needed no second bidding. She literally tore the saturated rags off her betrothed and immediately wrapped them both in her robes whilst simultaneously squeezing her own naked body flesh tight against his. As Magab sighed with pure relief to feel some genuine body heat, Aiofe snapped at Torvel and Arina.
“Well don’t just bloody stand there. He’s frozen! Get the spare leather and cotton sails and wrap us together!”
The pair couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles and they smirked discreetly as they unfolded the neatly stowed sail and parcelled the betrothed pair in several layers. Within minutes, Magab was recovering and savouring the most delightful warmth as he and his beau indulged their long denied needs. Torvel and Arina retreated tactfully to the stern where Drustan reluctantly handed the tiller to them. He had missed the companionship of The Angry Mermaid and briefly enjoyed their reunion. Now however, he was tired and needed his rest.
“I’m going to get some sleep. My feet are bloody killing me after all that walking.”
“Don’t disturb those two.” Torvel grinned.
“Don’t worry. I’m going right forward. It’s sleep I need. Can you dry and polish my sword please.”
Arina eagerly snatched the proffered weapon from Drustan and jealously started drying, polishing then oiling the famous blade. Torvel settled The Mermaid down on an easterly heading for Malta just as the northerly Mistral decided to speed them along.
On a broad reach, The Mermaid sped furiously across the wild sea as her tough Welsh oak timbers slammed and bounced upon the waves.
Despite the pounding, Drustan slept soundly - something he hadn’t done properly since first setting foot on Nubian soil. They reached Malta the following noon and The Angry Mermaid raced into Valletta harbour like a galloping horse. Many eyes stared disbelievingly at The Angry Mermaid as she demonstrated her speed and seaworthiness. With five persons to man the sheets and tiller, The Mermaid also proved a remarkably agile craft as she swept into her allotted mooring in a harbour filled with idle vessels weather bound until the spring.
Aiofe went ashore first to renew contact with the Knights and prince of Malta. She spoke several languages and they had come to respect her proven wisdom. She returned with some suitable clothes for Magab more in keeping with his true station but she left her brother to his own choice of clothes. Drustan favoured as little clothing as possible. But as his maidenly attributes manifested themselves more each month he was forced to cover his once male chest. He always wore leggings to hide the scar on his arse and previously he had worn a short leather jerkin mainly to hide his dagger under a short scabbard pressed tight between his left shoulder-blade and arm. Now he had to wear a looser garment if he was to cover his maidenly mounds. It was getting to the stage where He was looking so much like a girl he was debating going abroad as a girl. The problem was that people expected to see girls in gowns to their ankles and Drustan simply refused to compromise his freedom. He now hid his dagger across his chest under his womanly breasts but his sword however was clearly visible with the hilt and handle sticking slightly above his right shoulder while the tip stuck out at the back under his jerkin. The looseness of his new ‘feminised’ jerkin gave him one unexpected advantage. He could draw his sword even faster.
He only carried his bow when girded for battle for in truth it hampered movement when generally strolling amongst the crowded streets. He left the bow oiled and protected under the watchful eye of the guards in the harbour. When Aiofe returned with clothes for Magab, she was mildly peeved to find that her impetuous brother had already stepped ashore alone.
“Where’s he got to?” She asked Arina and Torvel.
“He said he was going to the market place to get some fresh fruit and a pitcher of decent wine,” Arina replied, “truthfully cousin, I can’t blame him. The food on board is getting pretty ripe now.”
“Yes Arina, nobody disputes that but there’s a proper meal awaiting us in the Palace. The Prince must speak with Magab immediately, but they also want an impartial assessment of the Situation.”
“Well then let’s go. You know what your brother is like. He’s probably out there right now, picking up intelligence and the general mood of the island.”
“No Arina. I meant in Carthage. The knights need to know about Carthage. The one with the most recent intelligence is Drustan.”
“Well you know what he’s like cousin. He’s the most careful plotter I’ve even known. If he’s garnering further intelligence, he’s got a reason.”
Aiofe nodded her head thoughtfully. She wondered what Drustan knew that he had not mentioned on the return passage. Her brother could be infuriatingly devious at times. Reluctantly they left Torvel to guard The Mermaid and visited the prince’s palace.
Drustan spent the whole day cruising the markets, speaking with traders, visiting taverns until he had gauged the mood on the island. His guts told him it was not a good mood. The grain ships had not come from Carthage that autumn and food was becoming scarce. People were becoming restless and blamed their king Walezia the Prince of Malta, for not accepting Mutas’s treaty when he had snatched the throne. To punish the Maltese, Mutas had stopped ships trading to Malta while he tightened his stranglehold on his brother Magab’s realm. His murder of his own father had been the last straw for many but by then it was too late to organise resistance. When Aiofe and Magab met with the Maltese king he was not well disposed to helping them.
Malta was a small island with a very small army, little more than a ceremonial guard commanded by the fore-runners of the Knights Templar. They were very accomplished soldiers but far too few; besides, they only had enough to defend the Valetta fortresses.
The King Walezia was worried about the deteriorating food situation on the island. Since Mutas had stopped trading with Malta food was getting scarce. The Maltese granaries would be empty long before the winter gales had finished. His people faced starvation.
When Drustan returned to his beloved Mermaid that night he was astonished to find her unguarded. This immediately put him on his guard for he knew his faithful companion Torvel would not have willingly abandoned her without making provision for her safe-keeping. As he took the stairs down to the Valletta harbour he noted the situation and immediately drew back into the shadows. It was not a moment too soon. As he crouched in the shadows, a troop of soldiers marched past and took station on the quay where The Mermaid lay moored.
After carefully appraising the situation, Drustan realised the soldiers were guarding The Mermaid against anybody approaching her and that might include him. The question now was why? The next question was where was Torvel? The situation warranted much further inspection so he slipped away silently and decided to approach The Mermaid by way of the water.
In the darkness, he made his way to the next creek and silently slid into the harbour to make a more stealthy approach by swimming silently along the quay wall under the shadow of its stone apron. Eventually he approached to within earshot of the guards and he settled under the coping stones to garner what information he could. It wasn’t long before the guards gossip told him all he needed to know. Torvel had been ‘detained’ and taken to King Walezia’s palace.
Drustan was now doubly cautious. Having determined what had happened, it now remained to determine the why. He slipped away from The Mermaid and went into the town. There he managed to steal some cheap women’s clothes and change his identity to that of a maid. He covered his head to hide his hair and studied his reflection in a dark puddle beneath a torch illuminating the door of an inn. Ruefully he concluded he passed for a maid just too easily. His face had a light slender jaw and his brow was smooth like a maiden’s. As he ran his finger over his jaw he felt no beard, nor even the beginnings of one.
‘Am I ever going to grow a manly face?’ He wondered. Then he thought further ’at least he would never have to shave and that might be a good thing.’ He adjusted his head cover with an unwitting ease and found a dry recess to sleep for the remainder of the night. As dawn arrived he made for the early morning market where he bought a meal and some wine at the tradesmen’s and carrier’s stand. People were gathered around in small groups guarding the wares and waiting for the market traders to complete setting up their stalls. Drustan soon determined that the mood was not good. Food, particularly grain for bread, was scarce. This mood was reflected by the appearance of a troop of soldiers who appeared unusually and took position at the four entrances to the market square. By monitoring several conversations amongst the assorted market users, Drustan soon determined that the mood had deteriorated so much in Malta that King Walezia was concerned that riots might break out as the traders traded ever higher food prices. He had sent a troop of palace guards to maintain order if things got dangerous. After finishing his expensive meal Drustan drifted slowly towards the main contingent of the guard who were posted at the main gate. They stood idly chatting by their watch fire so Drustan sidled over to appear as though she was adjudging some meat that had just been put out for sale. Already, several people had inspected the stall-holder’s wares and concluded his prices were too high. They stalked off angrily to compare prices of cheaper poorer meats purveyed on stalls at the cheaper end of the market. Drustan had already noted the same situation prevailing on the grain stalls. It seemed even the fish and vegetable stalls were affected to some degree as demand for the remaining foodstuffs climbed.
As Drustan loitered apparently checking the meat he listened attentively to the soldier’s gossip and his patience was rewarded. Two officers appeared going off duty and they joined the troop commander. They had just finished night duty in the palace and they were stopping by for a social ‘chit-chat’ with their colleagues before returning to their homes. Naturally the first topic of conversation was the increasing food prices. Drustan listened to their comments.
“Greetings Captain Fazeel, any trouble yet?”
“No, it’s quiet but the prices are already higher.”
“Aye. You’d best stock up on meat and bread brother, there’s going to be one hell of a shortage.”
“How so?” The captain of the guard asked.
“Well the King has had a letter from that usurper in Carthage explaining that grain is scarce and he has been forced to suspend exports until the situation calms down in the country. Consequently there is no grain coming in.”
“So what about grain from Italia or even Gaul.”
“It’s winter brother. You know what the storms are like. Only fools and venturers go forth upon the waters at this time of year. Besides the northerly winds prevent our ships beating against the tempests. It would take weeks and weeks to beat a path into the Gulf of Lyons or the Adriatica. The people would be starved to death by then. We can’t even get a message to Rome or Venice or Marseilles because even our fastest ships are weather bound here in Valletta. So they won’t be sending any grain south until they get a begging letter from Walezia."
“Can we afford to pay for extra grain from Gaul? We‘ve already paid for the grain that lies stored in Carthage’s granaries. It’s ours by right.”
“So how do we get it brother? We only have a small army and the weather is dangerous. Winter is not the time for starting a war. The king is worried and that makes us all worried. Oh and there’s another bit of gossip.”
“Go on,” the guard captain sighed resignedly.
“Those people who came from Iberia. Apparently the Usurper Mutas believes they have been meddling in his kingdom. Apparently that Celtic girl Affee or Afay or something, -“
“Aiofe,” the guard captain replied.
“Yes, that’s her, the one with yellow hair; well she‘s apparently to be betrothed to the other brother, the rightful heir to Carthage, what’s his name?”
“Magab.”
“Yeah; that’s it, Magab.”
“Go on,” the captain pressed his colleague.
“Well Mutas seems to have got wind that she’s been staying in Malta and he’s also sent a missive asking our king to deliver her to him so that he can marry her. The girl wasn’t very happy.”
Initially Walezia refused saying it broke the rules of hospitality for the girl was officially part of a diplomatic mission from the Celtiberians. He could not break the diplomatic conventions. That’s when Mutas tightened the screws and stopped the grain shipments altogether. Now the people advising the king are recommending that he delivers the girl to Carthage so that he can get Mutas to release our grain.”
“Well surely she won’t be in any danger,” The captain observed, “If she’s only going to be married; what’s she got to object to? She’ll still end up as queen of Carthage.”
The other officer chuckled and wagged his head.
“My God Fazeel! You don’t know much about women do you. She’s besotted with the other brother, Magab. She’s already planning to marry Magab. That’s what angers Mutas. He’s heard the woman’s a stunning beauty.”
Drustan smiled inwardly and nodded ever so imperceptibly to himself. ‘That much was true!’
“Have you seen her?” Captain Fazeel asked as a sergeant came with a report.
“Yes, and she is, - a real beauty. Men would kill for her. At the moment she’s an involuntary guest of King Walezia until he decides what to do. In fact all of that crew are being detained until the king determines what to do. Well; all that is except the boy who commands that fancy ship in the harbour. He’s disappeared; my troops are out searching for him now, so if you see any man with long yellow hair detain him and let us know. The king is undecided what to do with them yet.”
Drustan had heard enough. His sister and friends were being detained as pawns in some sort of trade war and he was a hunted man. He smiled ruefully; the operative word here was ‘man’. He adjusted his clothes to make himself appear more feminine yet and he tightened his top to reveal his upper curves. He was never more glad to appear maidenly and he stepped boldly past the lounging troopers even allowing his yellow hair to be seen under his head scarf. Greedy eyes followed his swaying hips and he felt like some beast being paraded at the market.
‘Just let them try!’ He told himself as he felt the reassuring blade under his clothes.
The captain of the guards and the two officers noticed Drustan but they simply smiled appreciatively at the tall slender woman as she swayed seductively past. They shared some lascivious remark but Drustan could not hear it even though she noticed their crude laughter. Gritting his teeth Drustan turned and smiled provocatively then glided away using every feminine wile he could muster. Their eyes followed her until she left the square by the main gate into town. Drustan had to get into the palace.
This proved relatively easy. Drustan’s subterfuge was simple; - a large basket of fruit carried by an extremely pretty girl with a convincing story about being new to the supply organisation soon got Drustan past the guards. The deteriorating food supply situation had attracted many new faces into the palace supply train. The guards didn’t even check the basket for underneath the fruit, Drustan had earlier bought a pretty dress and some ‘make-up’ to enhance his disguise. He had secreted the prettier, more stylish dress to wear inside the palace. Once in the palace, he hid the basket of fruit then took his prettier dress and slipped it on to make ‘herself’ much more presentable. Finally he ‘enhanced’ his face to complete the illusion. Drustan had now been in feminine mode since the early morning and was beginning to feel at ease. Importantly he was beginning to enjoy the support to his breasts for they no longer bounced and wobbled when he walked. It was something he had become uncomfortable with when he was dressed more usually as a man. He resolved to have a suitable, better tailored jerkin made at some time to provide a more comfortable ‘housing’ for the breasts he had been forced to come to terms with.
As lunchtime approached he recovered the basket of fruit and tidied it up to make it presentable to the royal dining hall. He needed to see if his sister and friends were still being treated as guests or prisoners. As he placed the basket on the side board he was relieved to see Aiofe at least seated at a table in the hall. It was not the high table but it showed they were at least still deemed to be guests even if they were being ‘detained’. Keeping a low profile he slipped outside found a piece of broken roofing tile and discretely scratched a short message.
‘Outside in the main corridor immediately after you’ve eaten. ‘D’
He returned to the hall, took the opportunity to separate some fruit from his basket, grab a modest palace platter and ‘serve’ his sister’ at her table. As he stood beside her he ‘accidentally’ tipped an orange out of the bowl so he bent down below the table and gently slipped the roof-tile shard onto her lap then tapped her knee to alert her. Aiofe hesitated for a moment then gasped as she recognised her brother. Drustan put a discrete finger to his lips and sidled away after returning the orange to his sister. Aiofe carefully slipped the slate shard into her dress purse and resumed eating. Nobody had seen the swap.
‘Part one completed,’ Drustan told himself as he fiddled with his basket of fruit and returned to the hall to serve out the remainder to each table.
Aiofe’s eyes followed her brother incredulously around the hall as she could not believe how convincing he looked as a woman; ‘and a bloody attractive one at that!’ she thought.
She hid her smile as she wondered what crazy reason had brought her brother right into the lion’s den. Later when they met secretly in what looked like an accidental meeting Aiofe explained.
“Magab, Arina and Torvel are in the palace gardens. We are allowed to walk around but not to leave the palace.”
She then went on to elaborate as she described the situation.
Aiofe had at first found King Walezia to be a courteous and affable host who had been very well disposed to her fiancée Magab but that very night after they had returned in The Angry Mermaid his friendship had cooled distinctly and he had explained to them somewhat apologetically.
Whilst they were away recovering Drustan and Magab, an emissary had arrived from Mutas demanding that any intercourse between Carthage and Malta must be conducted with Mutas’s government or the trade would stop. Walezia’s kingdom depended on trade but they had always previously relied upon Carthage for their grain supplies. Carthage was the closest reliable source of grain and they had never anticipated ill-will between their two kingdoms. Mutas’s coup had altered all that and King Walezia’s hands were tied, at least for the rest of the winter and into the following summer before they could find alternative sources.
King Walezia had been a good friend of the old Carthaginian king He was shocked at the news of his murder and Mutas’s coup but for now his hands were tied. Unless Walezia agreed to recognise Mutas’s kingship there would be no more grain deliveries that year. Walezia’s hands were tied for his Island kingdom only had about four weeks grain left.
“So what are you to do sister,” Drustan wondered, “and what is Magab going to do? The Carthaginian people are not happy with Mutas’s rule in Carthage.”
Aiofe pondered the question.
“Is there much dissent brother?”
“There’s much discontent but little dissent. Mutas is brutal. The country looks like an abattoir what with all the murders he has committed to despatch anybody who has any remote connection with his father’s court. Mutas is a beast!”
Aiofe fell silent as she debated an idea.
“How would we best defeat him? Where’s his weak spot?”
Drustan fell silent. The thing that had seemed to affect most people was the breakdown in law and order. The best way to exploit that was to promote more mayhem, more cause for shortages, more subsequent thefts and therefore more discontent. Aiofe agreed with him and they separated. Drustan went back into the town and Aiofe returned to her apartments where she was being detained within the palace. She had the run of the palace but she was prevented from going abroad in the Island.
The following lunchtime Aiofe was shocked to see her brother re-appear as an even prettier maid. Indeed so pretty that heads had turned. Now that she had been noticed and recognised as a source of scarce fresh fruit the Palace staff were presuming her to be a new member of staff. King Walezia had always had an eye for a pretty girl. That lunchtime as Drustan served the fruit at the tables the King noticed her and called her over.
“You’re new here my pretty young maid.”
“Yes my liege, my father owns a farm.”
“Is that where you get this fruit?”
“Partly my lord, we have had to exchange it for grain. We have not much fruit left. And the grain gets expensive. There seems to be a shortage of corn on the island.”
Walezia frowned. It was no secret that the granaries were running out and he could not think of an answer. He smiled at the pretty maid indulgently.
“And how would you solve the shortage young lady?”
“Why sir I would look for grain elsewhere. Other countries are well disposed to you and your kingdom my liege.”
The king sighed.
“Oh indeed they are you pretty thing, but how are we to get the grain to Malta. The winter storms are ferocious and we cannot send emissaries to the north or east. Ships cannot face those winds you have seen the harbour, it is full with winter bound ships.”
Drustan thought he saw an opening.
“But what of that strange ship that lies moored at the bottom of the grand staircase. The word in the town is that she can fly like a bird, even in the worst storms. Many people saw her fly when she raced into the harbour only two, or was it three days ago.”
The king wagged his head indulgently.
“I’m afraid you’ve been listening to rumours and gossip you pretty little thing. No ship can face the Mistral and make northing in these awful storms. I have spoken with my captains and they advise me this is so.”
Drustan almost snorted with derision but he managed to contain his contempt and carefully probed the king’s mind.
“Have you spoken with the captain of that strange ship?”
“No. He has disappeared and my soldiers seek him out. Rumour has it he has been to Carthage and I would speak with him.”
Drustan affected an effeminate giggle as he mimicked an empty-headed maid.
“It seems the town is full of rumours sire.”
“Well if I can find that captain it will kill a thousand rumours. His sister Aiofe says he simply disappeared into the town when they docked. He left them under the pretence of getting fresh food when there was a banquet of fresh food waiting here for his reception. I wish the fool would trust me, his sister says he is an impetuous youth.”
Drustan set a little test to determine how much danger Aiofe was in.
“So if you wish to find him, just make a declaration that his crew are to be tried for treason if he does not surrender himself.”
Walezia gasped and wagged his head.
“Good God child. I am not a butcher. I do not murder my guests. The girl Aiofe was an emissary from Iberia.”
“Well, if she is an emissary my liege, why can she not be allowed to return to Iberia?”
“It’s too dangerous the winter storms -. Your idea is sensible pretty maid. You are not as silly as you appear to be are you? Besides, once the sailing season re-opens she will probably have to return to Iberia and possibly take her embarrassing fiancée with her. I know she would receive a welcome there. I have King Appotel’s letters describing how much the whole crew of that little ship is held in high esteem. I know myself that now the Pillars of Hercules are open to all ships again the freedom to trade will benefit our kingdom enormously but for now, I am tied. This Mutas brute holds the whip hand at least until I can find alternative sources of grain for my people.”
“Is he a brute sire?”
“That’s what the rumours said before all trade ceased. I must speak with this captain of that strange ship he calls The Mermaid.”
“I thought it was The Angry Mermaid sire.”
“Well yes it is my girl but I was using shorthand.”
Drustan tickled the king’s pomposity
“They say it’s bad luck not to call a ship by her full name. The sea god Nodens may not recognise her.”
Even as he said these words the king’s eyes flashed and Drustan realised his blunder. He had revealed himself to be a follower of the old Pagan religions and he had revealed knowledge of the Celtic deities.
“What do you know of old Pagan Gods, do you not follow the one god, the god of Israel?”
Drustan swallowed and thought rapidly as his mind did back-flips.
“Why no sir, I do not follow pagan gods, I am a true believer of the one god but I have to tell you I have met this man, this captain of the strange ship.
It was early morning and he was looking for good food for his crew. I was taking my basket of fruit to market but some robbers tried to steal my wares and I screamed. He must have heard my scream and he appeared as if out of nowhere. The robbers fled when they saw his sword and he approached me. It was that first morning they arrived. It was very early and still dark. I thought he was going to rob me for my produce Good fresh fruit is becoming scarce and therefore valuable.
I offered him some fruit by way of thanking him but instead, he offered me good money for my whole basket. I sold it to him immediately and returned to my father’s farm. We made up my second basket but it was late too for the market so I tried my luck at the Palace gates. The steward was short of fresh fruit so he bought it from me and told me to serve it at the tables because time was short.”
Drustan was lying through his teeth now but the king accepted his story.
“You say you’ve met this man.”
“Why yes my lord. I did not realise it until today. That girl, his sister, she saw me serving fruit again today and she mentioned that I had hair like her and her brother. She asked me if I was a Celt or a Saxon but I told her my father had brought back a Celtic slave from Italia. I told her I was born here because my father married his slave girl after his first wife died in childbirth. I am his only child. That’s why I have to sell the goods from our farm. I have no brothers to do it and the rest of the family shun me because of my humble origins. I am the daughter of a slave girl. It was only after that Celtic guest mentioned his hair that I realised the man I sold the fruit to was her brother.”
“Could you meet him again?”
“Drustan hesitated.”
“I could try. I know where he tends to hang around. He’s very wary but he was very kind to me and gave me a fair price for my basket. I wouldn’t try and trap him. I might be able to persuade him. They say he’s a ferocious swordsman and I wouldn’t want to see blood spilled.”
“You're very wise young lady. I would be obliged if you could find him and persuade him. My soldiers have singularly failed. He obviously doesn’t trust me though I mean him no harm. What I need is information. Without information I am at a disadvantage.”
“Very well sire, I will seek him out even as I leave here but promise me you will not harm him, he was very kind to me.”
The king smiled. The maiden had been particularly bold to extract a promise from a king but he acceded to her plea.
“Very well maid. You have my sworn promise that I will not harm him. If you find him I will make you a licensed purveyor to the palace.”
“Why thank you my liege. My father will be thrilled.”
Drustan backed out displaying all the servility and fawning manner that he could muster. The king wagged his head and smiled for the maid was very attractive. So attractive indeed that he had forgotten to ask the maid her name!
A longish chapter where Drustan finally emerges as Drustina while preparations are afoot to evict Mutas from Maga's throne.
The Angry Mermaid 19.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 19.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Once clear of the King’s council room, Drustan went looking for Aiofe. He found her sat with Magab, Torvel and Arina gazing pensively over the Mediterranean Sea towards the faintest outline of Sicily. They turned as one expectantly when he appeared still dressed as a maid. Arina and Magab could hardly believe how convincing Drustan was. Torvel was simply shocked. He knew of Drustan’s strange duality for there were few secrets when you shared a ship but even he could not assimilate the famous warrior with the stunningly beautiful, tall, statuesque maid in her long gown.
“By the Goddess Eleen, you amaze me Drustan.”
Drustan ignored Torvel’s remarks as he explained, “if anybody asks of me, I am called Drustina. I am become cursed with this strange duality but I warn you brothers, do not forget who I really am! My sword is still sharp under this gown and my faithful dagger lies under my breasts! I may no longer have all the strength of a man but I have speed and flexibility. Now I have just come from talking with King Walezia and I...”
“You’ve what!!?” Aiofe almost screeched.
“I said I’ve just come fro...”
“I heard you! Are you stupid or something?”
Drustan flashed her an angry glare.
“No! I’m not stupid, sister. While you have been sitting here going nowhere, I have been abroad in the town and testing the mood of the people. Everybody knows the state of the granaries and they are blaming the breakdown with Carthage upon Magab’s presence here on this very island. The people are not stupid but the problem is rumours are rife and even the King doesn’t know the whole picture.”
“Neither do we,” Aiofe replied, “indeed, neither do you!”
“I know more than most but that’s not important. What is important is this. The King knows that Drustan is the last person to visit Carthage so what I don’t know I can make up. If the King hasn’t got an accurate picture, then I can paint him one and paint it to our advantage!”
Aiofe smiled knowingly. ‘Perhaps her brother was not so stupid after all.’ She prepared herself to listen to his plan as he explained, firstly in a whisper.
“I’ll address you as 'my Lady' to hide my true identity.”
Aiofe nodded as she grasped her brother’s reasoning. He was still masquerading as the maid Drustina. Drustan continued.
“Right, my Lady, I need you to come up with some ideas before I return to have my audience with the King tomorrow. I will meet you here before the noon hour and we can work out a strategy. I know you’re clever so don’t let me down and get your fiancé to help you. I’ve got too much to do before I get back here tomorrow with another basket of bloody expensive fruit.”
“Yes, I wondered about that. Where did you get such excellent fruit from? Most stuff is going rotten by now.”
“Don’t you worry about my fruit. You just give me some useful pointers tomorrow so that I can bamboozle that bloody King, and don’t forget, he’s not stupid!”
Aiofe smiled and Drustan made his way back into town. He found the fruit seller sitting on her particular patch near where the Mermaid was moored and guarded. He had found her there the first time displaying her partially damaged wares. When he had bought an orange off her and asked if she had any better stuff she had cast around nervously before revealing some much better fruit under the poor stuff. She had explained that she had to hide the good quality stuff or people might steal it from her. The only people who passed by the quay were casual passers-by and she could not sell in the market because she could not afford the license. When Drustan had purchased some good fruit at a better than fair price, she was tearfully relieved. He had seen her there the following morning and had decided on using her fruit to work his way into the palace. That next day he used the same stratagem but by now the palace staff were used to the tall attractive maid with the fruit.
At eleven the following morning, he met Aiofe and they discussed ideas.
“So my lady, what’s your stratagem?”
“Are you sure about the King?” Aiofe asked
Drustan reassured her that ‘the maid Drustina’ had extracted a firm promise for the safe pratique of the Celtic sea captain.
“All I can tell you is that he gave me his word. What other assurance could I ask for?”
“Then we’ll have to risk it. Is he expecting to meet Drustan today?”
“He’s hoping to. I said I would try and find him in his usual haunts.”
“Right then here’s my plan.”
Drustan settled on the low wall overlooking the sea as Aiofe elaborated.
“Right little brother, or should I call you little sister?”
“Let’s not go there sister,” Drustan cautioned her as his face clouded.
Aiofe realised she had struck a very tender nerve so she resumed discussing her strategy.
“Now brother, you’ll have no doubt noticed that the mood in the town surrounds the issues concerning the bread shortage.”
“Don’t I know it?” Drustan concurred. “There’ll be food riots in a few weeks if something isn’t done.”
“Exactly brother that’s the issue, the ‘few weeks’.”
“Go on.” Drustan encouraged her.
“Well little brother, those ‘few weeks’ are vital.
“How long would it take for you to return to Appotel’s Kingdom in the Mermaid?”
“Dunno. ‘Bout a week I suppose if the winds are unfavourable; you know, anything with a westerly component so I have to beat into it. If the Mistral strikes it will be northerly. The passage will be much faster but much more dangerous.”
“That’s exactly my thinking little brother. Here is my plan. You return to Appotel post haste with a request to purchase more grain. Appotel owes you plenty of favours and he’s bound to agree to help you - thus helping me. If you return with the initial consignment in the fast boats just to tide the island over, we can convince Walezia that there is an alternative source of food. Then Appotel can deliver enough to feed the island all winter by despatching the trading fleet. When we left, I remember his writing to Pilus to say that they were enjoying an excellent harvest with plenty of surplus.
Now, those Lusitanian ships of Mabina’s are well capable of withstanding pissy little Mediterranean storms; they were built to withstand the great western sea.”
Drustan thought about the plan and nodded then frowned.
“Good plan sis, just one snag.”
“Go on.”
“How do we pay for the grain?”
“That’s your part little sister, you’ll have to use your maidenly charms to get King Walezia to part with some gold.”
“Will you stop calling me your little sister!?”
“When you’re dressed like that brother, how else shall I address you? You’re bloody convincing you know. You totally tricked me that first day in the refectory.”
Drustan cursed and kicked angrily at a rose in one of the flowerbeds. Aiofe smiled and gently squeezed his arm. She noted that despite the soft smooth delicate texture of the skin her brother’s arm was hard and muscular underneath. She wagged her head thoughtfully as she considered her ‘brother’s’ strange duality.
‘He seemed to be getting more maidenly every day and she was worried about his having monthly calls by Damara. That was really weird. She would have to warn her sibling to beware of the new priests finding out or they might try to have him burned as a witch.’
As she studied her brother, she could not help but notice his tall, rounded form that readily portrayed him as a maid. His hips were just too rounded for a boy and he swayed gracefully when he walked. Fortunately, his swordplay was every bit as deadly as it had always been; nevertheless, Aiofe was worried for him.
“So what d’you think?” she pressed her sibling and yet avoiding any pronoun that alluded to gender.
“That solves the Maltese problem, what about Magab getting his kingdom back?”
“One thing at a time my dear sibling - we’ll face that one if and when you return with some corn.”
“So if I fail, it’s curtains for you and Magab.”
“How so?”
“Well I should think Walezia will want to keep you hostage here with Magab while Torvel, Arina and I set forth.”
“You could take a couple of Maltese seamen. Then you could show them what strength we have in our Celtiberian allies; not to mention the food surpluses.”
Drustan sucked on his cheek.
“It would be better if one of them was some sort of diplomat. They haven’t traded or entreated to the west since the Corsair Pirates became a threat. Now the pirate threat is ended, they should really be sending out emissaries. This is an opportunity we can present to Walezia as another diplomatic ploy.”
“That’s a good point Drustan,” Aiofe smiled, “we’ll make a diplomat of you yet! They haven’t sent envoys to the west yet because their ships can’t handle the winter storms. The Mermaid would be a perfect vehicle to extend their diplomatic contacts. It also gives Walezia a cover story to hide his real intention of entreating with Iberia.”
Drustan grinned and made his excuses. It was nearly noon and he had to meet with the King, still masquerading as a maid.
“Sounds like a plan. See you later sis. Wish me luck.”
They exchanged a sisterly kiss to reassure each other, then Drustan stepped boldly off to meet the King in his council chamber. He was certainly not as confident as he appeared to be when he knocked on the council chamber door.
“Come.” Sounded through the heavy door so the guards sloped their halberds back to the upright shoulder position and Drustan peered around the door smiling.
“Ah. It’s you, the pretty maid. Did you manage to find him?”
“Yes my liege.”
“Is he prepared to come and speak with me?”
“Yes my liege.”
“Good. Well don’t just stand there girl. Sit on that settee and tell me what he said. What does he want?”
“May I speak freely sir, may I reveal all?”
“Of course my girl! I expect nothing else.”
Drustan sat on the settee, savoured the comfort and then stood again as he went to peep out of the window. Finally, he turned to face the King who was leaning back in his chair with his elbows on the chair arms and his fingers steepled under his lower lip.
He noted the girl’s hesitation, so he tried reassuring her.
“Is there something bothering you girl? Has he asked too much?”
Drustan turned and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. He needed to know. Eventually he plucked up the courage and he spoke haltingly, nervously.
“My lord, the man wishes to know how censorious your priests are about this one god thing. Drustan was called a pagan in Iberia and if it wasn’t for his services to both King Appotel and King Pilus, he might have been condemned by those one-god priests. He wants to know where he stands here in Malta. Are your priests equally censorious?”
King Walezia studied the maid and sensed her nervousness. He decided to try and put her at her ease.
“My dear young maid, they are guests of my court, all of them. I do not allow my guests to be made to feel uncomfortable. The definition of good manners is to put your present company at ease. Do you see fear in the Lady Aiofe’s eyes when you meet her?”
Drustan hesitated and stiffened nervously. The King grinned.
“Don’t worry girl, I’ve seen you talking with her. Obviously you are talking to her about her brother. She is obviously concerned for him and I would expect nothing less. She is not a prisoner as you can see by the freedom to roam the palace; however my hands are tied and I have to act like a King. I must protect my people. If you wish to talk with Aiofe you are free to do so at any time and you are free to come and go at will. I just wish that you could persuade the man Drustan to come and see me. I need information about Carthage.
“I will not deny that I saw you speaking to Aiofe in the garden but I am not spying on her. As you can see I have a wide view of the garden from that window.”
Drustan looked out and down to see Aiofe laughing with Magab while Arina was playing with one of the cats. There seemed to be no threat. Drustan took a deep breath as the King shifted expectantly.
‘The maid obviously had something important to pass from the Celtic captain.’
He spoke softly but encouragingly.
“Well go on girl - spit it out. I don’t kill the messenger!”
“My lord there is a secret about the Celtic captain that you must never reveal, especially to your priests.”
“My priests do as they’re told. I’m King here.”
“If I reveal this secret will you promise not to condemn the boy, the man?”
“I don’t know what the secret is girl. I cannot commit myself to an unknown. Do you think it will affect the safety or the security of my kingdom - my people?”
Drustan hesitated thoughtfully. If the King was sympathetic and supportive, Drustan felt he would fight through the gates of hell on Walezia’s behalf.
“The secret affects only him my lord. It affects no others and it certainly doesn’t affect your kingdom. It might upset your priests though.”
“If this is about the paganism thing I...”
“It’s not about paganism my liege; it’s about the man himself. He is not as other men.”
“Well isn’t that the truth,” the King laughed. “I’ve read the letters you know, from half the Kings of the western kingdoms. I know of his deeds and his courage and of his scars. He cannot deny himself. I can even determine if he is who he says. D’you know I only have to ask him to lower his britches. Have you heard about the scar on his nether quarters?”
Drustan frowned as though portraying a maid confronted with a salacious act. The King sensed that the maid appeared to be a somewhat innocent girl not much given to bawdy stories. He immediately changed his tack.
“Just let me tell you my girl, I know of his exploits and they are truly astounding. They say he can be an excellent raconteur when he’s in the right company. Might I beseech you to do your best to persuade him to come here? I desperately need to speak with him and I promise you before any god you wish to call, that I will not harm a hair on his or his friend’s heads.”
Finally convinced, Drustan stepped away from the window where he could not be seen by any but King Walezia.
The King stirred uneasily but Drustan reassured him.
“I mean no harm my liege but you must know certain things.”
“Go on young lady, what are these things?”
“Well firstly my liege, I am not a maid, I am a man.”
King Walezia's jaw sagged as he gaped stupidly at Drustina.
“You jest girl!”
“No sire. I can assure you, were I to cast aside this frock I can easily prove it.”
The King smiled and motioned her to do so. Drustan deftly slipped the rough homespun dress over his shoulders to reveal his dagger nestling in it's integrated bra-cum-sheath that lay across his ribs under his well developed breasts and his sword laying tight down the graceful curve of his back. The King started at the revelation of weapons but Drustan reassured him.
“I mean you no harm sir, indeed I wish to help you.”
“So you are a maid who bears arms and a comely maid at that.”
“Oh yes sir, I can assure you that these are maidenly attributes but they are not all I have. The next bit is a somewhat more personal move - may I have your permission to lower my hose?”
The King wagged his head in bemusement.
“Well, if you must young lady, but the why and where escapes me.”
Thus empowered by the King’s permission, Drustan lowered his maidenly hose and revealed a manly bulge where a maid was smooth and flat. Then he tugged his breechcloth aside to reveal his manhood. The King’s jaw sagged disbelievingly.
“My God! You ARE a man!”
Drustan sighed despondently as he lifted his shapely leg to reveal the greatest secret of all behind his balls. He rested his foot on the King’s table and lifted his testicles clear to give a better view. The King squealed with amazement.
“But that’s, that’s a woman’s ... that’s a woman’s parts!”
“Precisely my liege. So now you know of my duality, what you don’t yet know of is this!”
So saying he span around with all the grace and poise of a dancer to reveal the huge angry scar that ran from waist to his woman’s parts.
The King gave a strangled gargle of shock and croaked, “My God! You! It’s you, Drustan Scar-arse!”
“Or, as I am more wont to call myself these days sire, Drustina Scar-arse!”
The King’s eyes drank in the maidenly curve and peachy texture of Drustina’s ripe form and he was lost for words. As his jaws worked soundlessly, Drustan swiftly redressed but not without fully exposing his breasts as he re-adjusted his bra properly before closing the top of his dress. The King’s eyes fell upon them, not salaciously but disbelievingly until Drustina stood before him modest as a maid again but in all her glory. The only difference being that her sword was now plainly visible on the outside of her dress but still ‘shoulder-holstered’ for ease of access. The view of the sword gave Walezia an idea.
“One last test young lady. Show me your sword skills. I am a fair swordsman myself.”
Drustan squinted uncertainly.
“Can I have your word sire that it is but fencing. No strikes and no blood.”
“Of course you have my word. Get me my sword; it’s on the weapon rack behind you.”
Drustan turned and recognised another Toledo blade. As he presented it flat palmed to Walezia, he commented, “another Toledo blade, just like mine - look.”
So saying, his own sword flashed with lightning speed and appeared in Drustina’s hand as if by magic. He reversed it and presented it similarly flat palmed for the King’s inspection. Walezia smiled.
“You handled that well my lady. Shall I call you my lady?”
“You might as well - I can’t hide these any more, can I?”
He cupped his breasts and pulled a wry smile as the King handed his sword back to him.
“Very well my lady. I will go easy with you. I feel uncomfortable fencing with a maid. However, I had better warn my guards and invite them to watch or they will think there is mayhem abroad.”
Drustina reluctantly agreed but extracted a further promise from King Walezia.
“Very well sire, I have no objections to witnesses to my sword skills but they must not know I am Drustan Scar-arse.”
“That’s fair comment Drustina, I’ll agree to that.”
King Walezia invited the guards into his chamber and explained that he was testing the maid’s skills. The guards grinned and nodded for they expected a rout. King Walezia struck his defence and challenged Drustina.
“On guard my lady.”
It took but a dozen strokes before the King had to yield and he stared, shocked at Drustina’s speed. The Guards also stood silent in disbelief. Before speaking to Drustina he dismissed the guards back to their duty.
“My God, mistress. I can see now how that Norseman met his end. You fight like a lion!”
“A lioness, my liege. Look at me. None would take me for a man ... or a lion.”
The King’s eyes softened as the beautiful maid whipped her sword back into its shoulder scabbard with uncanny ease and precision. Then she slumped with despondency for her duality worried her immensely. The King found himself feeling a fatherly affection for the maid and he rested his hand on her shoulder as she sat slumped at the table.
“Do not fear Drustan or Drustina, your secret is safe with me. So now tell me all you learned in Carthage.”
Drustina settled back in the settee and related all she had learned, seen and done in Carthage. The King listened as she finally suggested Aiofe’s plan to supply Malta through the winter.
“I think we’d better go and get your sister here now. Is she to know of your becoming a warrior princess?”
Drustina smiled shyly.
“I’m hardly a princess my liege. I was born to common boat-builders and my ways are wild and tempestuous. Ask my sister when she comes.”
“I’m sorry my dear. If you are to travel freely and yet present as such a lovely maid you will need status to protect your rights.”
Drustina let out a snort of amusement.
“My sword will protect my rights my liege. It always has and it always will.”
“But what of when men try to have their way with you - in the bedroom perchance?”
“You saw my dagger sire. If my sword will not deter them, there is still the subterfuge of the knife. It was this humble knife that did for Blueface, not my wonderful sword.”
Walezia smiled for the maid certainly carried her dagger in an unusual place under her fulsome but firm breasts and across her lower ribs. The sheath for her dagger formed part of a self-made ‘bra’ band, always well hidden but never closer to hand. Drustina demonstrated just how handy the arrangement was as she whipped the dagger out of its sheath and presented the point chest high to King Walezia. He grinned at the sheer speed and precision of the dagger’s presentation to his chest. If he had been attacking the maid in salacious earnest, the blade would have been through his heart in a flash. It was a deadly counter to any unsuspecting attacker. The demonstration gave King Walezia much food for thought but it also proved the girl’s good intentions.
She could have assassinated him there and then if she had wished for her hands were lightning quick. They exchanged smiles then chatted about Aiofe’s plan until she appeared in the doorway.
Walezia turned to her as Aiofe’s eyes fell upon Drustan’s appearance. She realised that the missing gown meant that Drustan must have revealed himself to the King. Walezia confirmed this with his first words to her.
“Well Aiofe, my dear Celtiberian emissary, so what do you think of your new sister?”
Aiofe turned to Drustan with curiosity writ large in her knowing smile.
“Is it to be then brother? Are you really going to join us over this side?”
Drustina shrugged and sighed philosophically.
“It seems I have no choice sister. My tits are growing with every bloody moon and my arse gets curvier every time I sit on it.”
Aiofe turned to the King.
“I hope your majesty is not going to spread this miracle abroad. These one-god priests are the very devil with their persecutions.”
“The maid is too valuable to me Aiofe. Besides her sword and her dagger, her ship is also priceless. Your idea is a good one. If I can alleviate the threat of starvation here on my little island kingdom, then we have a firm base to address any threats from Carthage.”
“Are you going to support my betrothed then?” Aiofe pressed.
“I want to Aiofe but at present I am caught in a trap, a food trap. Drustina has told me enough of the slaughter in Carthage. The man Mutas must be a monster to have murdered even his own father. I have made my mind up as regards supporting Magab but I am ham-strung by the food issue. Until I have enough grain to feed the people I am singing castrato as far as helping your betrothed Magab.”
“So who is to go back to Iberia and make the plea?” Drustina asked.
“Well you for certain and I thought Arina and Torvel as you have suggested. If Mutas’s spies can still report that Aiofe and Magab are my ‘guests’ then he will be complacent. You have been inadvertently clever Drustina, for everybody is looking for a man not a maid. In that guise, nobody will know you have left for Appotel’s kingdom. We have only to pretend that the Angry Mermaid is secure in a covered dock and nobody will notice her departing at the dead of night. I can easily knock up a mock of your ship to pass as her double in a dark shed. That is my part in the deceit and it is the easy part.”
“Thank you my liege,” Aiofe agreed, “so who is to pay for this grain?”
“I will have to strip my treasury. It will leave me and my people poor until we can recover what the thief Mutas owes us for the grain we have purchased from Carthage already and yet he refuses to deliver.”
“I’m sure my fiancé Magab will refund it sire, if we ever get his throne back.” Aiofe replied.
“Well that’s another issue for another day,” Drustina observed, “for now let’s solve the grain issue.”
And so they did.
Torvel and Arina joined Drustina the following night along with two Maltese representatives. Aiofe was allowed down to the quay in the darkness and she hugged her erstwhile companions desperately before they took their leave and set off into the stormy darkness. The Maltese seaman was a ship master who, along with his colleagues, had always maintained that it was not possible to take on the Mistral when the wind was in its pomp. He was distinctly nervous as Torvel and Drustina slipped the moorings, span the Mermaid around on a sixpence and set off between the harbour moles to face what was to the Maltese a tempest. Then, when he saw the girl Arina casually attending to the sheets, he felt ashamed and joined her to lend his weight. As the sails tensioned, the Mermaid sprang to her bridle and set off across the waves like a racehorse to the fences. The emissary sat huddled in the bow bemoaning his sea-sickness. He knew nothing of ships nor navigation or storms but he was responsible for the money that King Walezia had entrusted to him to pay for the grain. He simply sat huddled in the tiny cabin that they had fashioned behind the high stem post to serve as a modest shelter. It also served to dissipate breaking seas. Drustina had often considered such a feature but never had time to fashion one. Sadly, the bow was that part of the Mermaid that pitched and plunged the most, so the emissary was pretty much incapacitated. He simply lay bemoaning his discomfort and periodically vomiting over the side. Drustina eyed him with some amusement.
‘They should have chosen somebody with ‘sea-legs’, she smirked to herself.
After a day of tempestuous seas with the Mermaid pounding at the waves, they finally cleared the Cape Cranitola and they were now exposed to the full force of the Mistral’s anger.
They shortened sail but Drustina refused to slacken the sheets and the Mermaid threw herself at the towering waves in a veritable frenzy of determination to maintain her westering.
Several times, the Maltese captain gaped in terror at a particularly monstrous wave and begged Drustina to slacken sail.
Contrary to what most Mediterranean thought of women during those times, Drustina simply watched the sea with a calm measured determination as Torvel and Arina slept alternately at the sheets ready at any instant to heed Drustina’s shout. The Maltese captain marvelled at the deadly determination that seemed to motivate these demons of the northern seas.
‘If anybody could handle these terrible storms,’ he concluded, ‘it was these cold-blooded, pale eyed denizens of the ice and snows’ that he believed covered the whole of the northern seas. He was right of course but his geography was out by thirty degrees of latitude.
Throughout the day, the Mistral slowly relented and the two Maltese found their wits.
The ship master eventually found it in himself to learn from the tall, steely eyed, maid with the blond hair who seemed affected neither by sea, wind or cold. As he familiarised himself with the ship and her apparel, he soon grew to love the strange ship. The love affair was cemented on the second day when Torvel was standing in the bow and he spotted unidentified land. Drustina called the Maltese captain to identify it. The man stood staring disbelievingly at the familiar cliffs then finally confirmed them to be Capo Teulada, the extreme southern tip of Sardinia. He wagged his head disbelievingly.
“But Drustina! We are only a day and a half out from Malta! What manner of ship is this?” Our fastest carracks take four days to make this point and that’s with a fair wind.”
“D’you believe me now Wallesta? I promised your King a quick passage and we’re on time.”
“You never told me what your anticipated your passage time to be.”
“Six days at most, to the northern Pillar of Hercules.”
Captain Wallesta’s jaw worked silently as he tried to make sense of the figures.
“But that’s, that’s two hundred stadia in a day!”
“Two hundred and fifty actually. We’re taking a more northerly route to avoid the African coast. If we were disabled we would fetch up on their rocks and smashed to pieces. I’m being cautious.”
“What, you call the last day and a half cautious? I have been bounced and pummelled like a turd in a piss pot!”
Drustina could not help but smile. It was true, she had pushed her beloved Mermaid a little hard but she was determined to show these conceited middle sea sailors what real seamanship was about. She caught Arina’s eye as the girl struggled to contain her laughter. Wallesta’s crude nautical expression had completely thrown her. Eventually she burst out laughing and the jocular mood quickly spread until a sail appeared from around the headland of Capo Teulada.
Drustina turned once again to Wallesta, “will that be a friendly sail?”
“It should be,” Wallesta opined. “We have no issues with Sardinia. D’you want to stop and hail them?”
“We have no need,” Drustina replied, “we have ample water and food and we know exactly where we are.”
“It’s usually good manners to exchange courtesies here in the middle sea,” Wallesta advised.
Drustina paused thoughtfully then canvassed her crew.
She herself was undecided but she asked each their feelings. Arina, like Drustina, was born of the piratical northern seas and lived all their lives with Norse raiders. Caution and circumspection were their primary tools of diplomacy. Conversely, Torvel had mixed feelings while Wallesta was more than keen to exchange courtesies. The casting vote fell to the emissary who, being a diplomat and a scholar suggested they should at least approach within hailing distance. This had also been Drustina’s considered position, so she acceded to the emissary’s suggestion. Without further ado, she swung the tiller sharp round while Torvel hauled the sheets. In moments the Mermaid was hurtling towards the newcomer. As the Mermaid slammed into the short steep seas, Wallesta recognised the approaching vessel.
“It’s the guard ship for Caglia, she must be coming back from a patrol - look she’s unshipping her sweeps.”
“Does that mean she intends to pursue us or what?” Drustina asked.
“I don’t know but we’ll soon find out - she’s turning to hail us.”
Drustina stood on into the northerly wind staying close hauled until she was sure of the other ship's intentions. Eventually a voice hailed them across the water.
“Ahoy! What ship?”
Drustina called out. “Angry Mermaid on passage from Malta to the Pillars of Hercules.”
There was a long pause as the other ship’s crew seemed to be consulting amongst themselves. Finally they spoke again.
“It is a difficult passage for such a time of year. Are you in trouble?”
“No. It was a straightforward passage.”
“But the storm, the Mistral, where did you shelter?”
“We sought no shelter. We travel direct without hindrance.”
There was another long pause then the next question came.
“What manner of craft is that?”
“One from the northern seas.”
“It is very fast!”
“Yes, and seaworthy. What do you want of us?”
“Are you going to land in Sardinia?”
“No. Unless we are wrecked. We are bound to the west even as we speak.”
“There is another storm brewing.” The Sardinia Picket boat cautioned.
“We’ll manage. She’s a sound ship.”
“May we suggest you take shelter?”
“We haven’t time. We have urgent business with the Turdetani and King Appotel.”
“We would ask that you take communiqués for him from our city.”
Drustina turned to the others.
“What d’you think?”
The emissary spoke.
“It seems a bit of a coincidence that they suddenly have letters to be sent.”
“It’s not impossible,” Drustina observed, “the straits have only just reopened. There are many countries that would seize the opportunity to treat with the Turdetani. They hold the key to the western sea.”
“Do you trust them?” Torvel asked.
Drustina looked to Wallesta for guidance and the Maltese captain shrugged.
“We’ve never been at loggerheads before though they’ve usually just waved us by unless we were going to Caglia. I can’t see any reason for their wishing to detain us. We could at least go to Caglia and stand off until they bring their letters.”
Drustina turned again to the emissary.
“What d’you think?”
He stared thoughtfully at the guard boat then wagged his head.
“Letters of such importance are usually accompanied by an emissary, just like me. I suspect they might want to send a courier as well. Is there room?”
“Plenty of room,” Drustina observed. “Provided they supply victuals for him as well, we can accommodate him.”
“We should charge them for the passage,” Arina added. “This ship is not a charity.”
Drustina smiled.
“You’ve been listening to Aiofe for too long girl. There’s such a thing as good will.”
“Huh!” Arina snorted. “You’ve changed your tune. I remember when your right hand didn’t trust your left hand!”
“What if it’s a trap?” Torvel asked. “What if we take an emissary and he tries to kill us.”
“He’d have to kill five of us,” Wallesta calculated, “that would take some doing.”
“Unless he poisoned us, like we poisoned the drunken Vikings.” Arina cautioned.
“Enough procrastination - let us vote on it.” Torvel finished.
They voted and all five decided to accept the entreatment. They signalled to the guard ship that they would proceed to Caglia. The guard ship acknowledged and once again Drustina revealed the Mermaid’s paces. They arrived off Caglia at least an hour ahead of the guard ship that had rowed furiously all the way. There they had anchored off the port to await developments. The guard ship swept past them and a couple of hours later a small picket boat emerged from the town. The Angry Mermaid weighed its anchor and took precautions as the picket craft approached. The bargaining started and within the hour the Sardinians had agreed to send only one emissary with their missives and entreatments. Drustina also extracted the now unusual concession in the new ‘one god’ religious climate of having that emissary be a woman. Drustina demanded this by declaring herself and Arina to be women and she would not feel safe with a strange man aboard her ship. The Sardinians reluctantly agreed to this for they desperately wanted to renew contacts with Appotel.
The picket boat returned to the town to collect extra food and discuss the unusual request for a woman emissary. As the boat disappeared between the harbour moles, Arina turned to Drustina.
“You’d have thought they would have brought the food with them.”
“I don’t think they expected us to agree. I’m really pleased they’ve agreed to their emissary being a woman. I really wouldn’t feel safe with a strange man and I really don’t want to have to be forced to use my sword.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this or even coming here if the Mermaid had been a slower ship.” Torvel added. “That guard ship could have easily overwhelmed us.”
The others all nodded vigorously and Drustina smiled ruefully. They had come to rely an awful lot on the Mermaid’s charms and miracles.
Eventually the little picket boat put alongside the Mermaid and Torvel joined Wallesta at the ship’s gunwales with drawn swords.
The lady emissary looked somewhat alarmed at first, but Drustina quickly reassured her with her most feminine and beatific smile. She helped the lady aboard and made her comfortable beside the Maltese emissary while her food and luggage were stored safely. The two emissaries soon fell to discussing the new order that had ensued with the re-opening of the straits. Drustina gave a wide beaming smile when she heard the lady gasp at some delectable titbit that the Maltese emissary revealed. The lady was staring at Drustina disbelievingly and Drustina could readily understand what she had just learned. It was hardly a secret and frankly, she was beginning not to care. Anybody wishing to take issue with it had to get past her sword and that was getting better with every passing year.
Later, as Arina steered the ship on a steady beat with a favourable wind, the lady approached Drustina cautiously as she and Captain Wallesta were making their beds amongst the spare sails ready for an afternoon sleep.
“So you are the one, the one who led the Iberians in battle against the Barbary pirates.”
Drustina nodded wearily, all she wanted to do was sleep. She motioned her head towards Arina chatting at the helm with Torvel.
“It was not I who led them, I only commanded this ship. If you need the full story about the battle ask those two, Torvel was on one of the other fast Iberian ships while little Arina was aboard this ship with me. Arina has been with me since we left Demetae. Everything I have endured, so has that child, except my sojourn ashore in Carthage. Now, please, both Captain Wallesta and I need to sleep. Opportunities for sleep are scarce and we have a tricky landfall sometime in the night or early morning.”
The lady emissary was nothing if not diplomatic and she recognised the crew’s need to sleep whenever the opportunity arose. Even the Maltese emissary was making himself comfortable in the bows. The lady made her apologies and left to pick Arina’s brains. What she learned taught her new respect for Drustina, the strange maid whose reputation was spreading throughout the Western Mediterranean. It was an amazing story and would provide her with entertaining material at every diplomatic table in the Mediterranean.
The Angry Mermaid sailed doggedly through the evening and night as her crew worked around the watches. With dawn, they made landfall and by noon they had docked in Cartagena to despatch a fast horse to Appotel’s court. It was a testament to the Mermaid’s seaworthiness that both emissaries chose to continue on to the Pillars of Hercules by sea instead of taking the overland route. It was also a testament to her speed that she arrived at Gibral before Appotel’s herald who had been despatched immediately on the King’s learning of Drustina’s return to Iberia. Two days later, a flotilla of fast ‘Mermaid’ class warships were racing back to Malta with the first consignment of grain. The larger ships were soon to follow after loading in Almeria and Cartagena. By the midwinter solstice, Malta’s granaries were healthy and contentment reigned again on the Island.
On the second voyage of the Mermaid, Drustina had joined with the first ‘big ship’ convoy and she arrived contentedly between the harbour moles in the company of several fat lumbering merchant ships loaded to the gunwales with grain.
As she slipped into the harbour, she looked up at the battlements to see a very contented King looking down accompanied by a relieved sister and future Brother-in-law. Drustina and Arina had returned for the second time and now the new trade was established. For that second voyage of the Mermaid, Torvel and Captain Walessa had remained in Iberia to organise the regular trade between Malta and the Celtiberian tribes and act as agents for future trading.
Also on that second voyage to bring the Mermaid back to Malta, two new young acolytes had been chosen from a thousand Celtiberian hopefuls to learn seamanship from the acknowledged master or - as Appotel ruefully accepted now - ‘the acknowledged mistress’. They would learn the mysteries by accompanying Drustina and Arina back to Malta.
Drustina stepped ashore and fell tearfully into Aiofe’s arms as the issue of feeding the Island had at last been resolved. Aiofe was slightly taken aback. Her younger brother had never been an emotional person but now her newly become ‘sister’ seemed to evince all the qualities of a girl, a sister and a very emotional sister at that. As Drustina wiped her eyes, Aiofe whispered in her ear.
“I hope those are tears of happiness sister.”
Drustina croaked an emotional ‘yes’ and finally recovered her composure.
King Walezia noticed her tear stained eyes and asked, “Are you alright, darling?”
Arina looked up with surprise at the King’s words then stared at Drustina, her erstwhile commander. But a few months before the individual before her had been a companion, a hero, a protector. Now in his stead there stood this weepy girl. Aiofe caught Arina’s immature confusion and reached out to her.
“Take courage child. If this is difficult for you, think how hard it is for Drustina. Now she must learn all the guile and tact of a girl if she is to avoid the dangers of womanhood.”
“But she still has her sword,” Arina argued. “She can still gut an enemy with a few quick strokes.”
“She may not always have her sword child. There are times and places were a woman would not be expected to bear a sword. There she might find danger.”
Arina smiled and wagged her head at Aiofe’s words.
“I can’t see Drustina ever foregoing her sword. It is as closely attached to her as her right arm.”
Aiofe smiled indulgently at the young girl and hugged her close as she whispered in her ear: “You are young, girl! When your womanly heart takes over from your child’s head you will understand how and when a girl might lay down her sword if only for a few short hours. It is then that women must learn guile, tact, discretion and patience. It is then that women are vulnerable. You have had years and some growing time yet to learn those skills but Drustina has been flung into the cauldron of womanhood with but few skills to address it.”
“But the King called him 'darling'. A few moons ago, Drustan would have skewered him like a piece of meat for that. Now Drustina smiles like a winsome maid. It is hard for me to understand!”
“We none of us understand it, Arina,” Aiofe sighed, “but I for one prefer Drustina to Drustan. Drustina talks to me and she shares her sisterliness with me. Do you not like her?”
Arina frowned for she was confused. She had so worshipped and admired the boy soldier who had led her and cared for her safety so effectively through so much danger.
“I miss Drustan.”
Aiofe nodded and gave Arina another hug as she explained, “Drustan is still there Arina. You have seen her pee like a maid and she is modest about it, but when she chooses she can still stand to piss like a man. You may have not seen her man parts because Drustina shows you respect. I have seen them, I am after all, still her big sister and she turns to me constantly for wisdom in womanly affairs. I have even helped her when Damara calls - for my once-brother now faces a tougher battle than ever the ones he solved by sword. Give Drustina time Arina. Be kind to her and you will have a stalwart companion for all your life. And by the way, King Walezia assures me that our comrade has not lost any of her swordsmanship. She can still protect you as Drustan always did.”
Arina was still puzzled.
“But if she has man parts, why does she not be a man. Why does she cry and go all weepy like a maid?”
For a moment Aiofe was stumped then she realised she had the best answer a maid could give.
“Drustina chooses to be a maid because maids have more fun. You have seen how stupid boys can be when they are trying to out-do one another. It takes years for a boy to garner wisdom and become a man. Ask any old man that; ask any king that has had to learn the skills of diplomacy and leadership. They will tell you it takes years of tutelage and learning to succeed.
We maids learn these skills earlier because we have to and our bodies dictate it. We become women long before they become men. Normally we do not have the wherewithal to withstand the strength of men so we must use wit and compassion when seeking to win our ends. Drustina’s skill with weapons has become a double edged sword. She will find it hard at times to resort to womanly wiles when she also has her sword at hand to shorten the fight. I am sure Drustina prefers the company of maids and the life of a maid because it brings her peace and contentment.
Whether she is Drustan or Drustina, she or he is still your friend, Arina, and she will always love you for the wonderful person you are. Just make sure you always love her for the wonderful person she is. I still love her and I always will but she’s got a longer furrow to plough than anyone I know. Now come along — look, Drustina goes with King even now to share the burdens of state. You and I can choose to take our toilet and enjoy womanly things before we join them for dinner but they are saddled with politics even before Drustina can wash. Be assured, Drustina has endured all the privations that you have endured aboard the Mermaid since going to Iberia and like us she can no longer do as the men do and wash naked in view to others. Yet now she must make her report to the King and finish her duties before she can join us and bathe. She has a double burden now. Hers will never be an easy life Arina. If she is to win back the land of our fathers, she will always have to work and fight before attending to her own pleasures. She will have a hard lonely life for many years yet, Arina. If you wish to be her friend and companion, you must prepare for that hard road.”
Arina frowned. “But if the King wants Drustina’s opinion, will he not want yours? You are every bit as clever as Drustina.”
“Yes Arina, he will want my opinions; and he will get them but not before I have bathed! Come, there is little time to dinner. After dinner I will talk to the King with Magab at my side. Drustina will probably bathe then and she will be glad for it.”
“I will help her bathe. We have often done it before.”
“Well done young lady. That will help her come to terms with her new-found femininity.”
At dinner, Drustina once again disgraced herself by declaring she needed a wash and that she should have had one before dining.
Aiofe exchanged a knowing smile with Arina. Girls hated privation and Drustina was beginning to understand why. Her female parts had made it known that they had to be kept clean. Instead of bathing first she had been so preoccupied with the issues of state she had ignored her own discomfort. Now she regretted it. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair and frowned as the other diners took their ease at the table. She excused herself before the last food was served and the King frowned until his Queen explained discreetly. Then he smiled and nodded understanding. He watched the maid stalking uncomfortably from the hall and wagged his head with amusement. He caught Aiofe’s eye and announced.
“So she’s still coming to terms with it my lady.”
Aiofe nodded and motioned to Arina to go and assist her best friend and companion.
The rest of the assembly continued eating and taking their ease as the King chatted with Aiofe. Several of the King’s advisors strained to listen to the pair but Aiofe deliberately kept her voice low. She was describing her ideas to win back her fiancé’s kingdom.
In the hypocaust, Drustina embraced the heat as it threaded its comfort through her muscles. It had been a long time since she had savoured the comfort of such warmth and she lay on a bench almost asleep while Arina rubbed oil into her soft smooth skin.
She felt Arina’s fingers pause as they explored her numerous scars but the young girl knew not to linger where young fingers should not go and Drustina smiled inwardly as she sensed Arina hesitating. Finally the child whispered.
“Do your scars still hurt?”
“Sometimes Arina, sometimes if I am cold or wet.”
“Like when we are on the Mermaid.”
“Exactly then, when the wind cuts and the rain or spray enervates with cold, yes my scars let me know they are there.”
“And you are not yet in your sixteenth summer.”
Drustina fell to an introspective silence. It was painfully true, not yet sixteen and yet saddled with all the stings and pains of a veteran warrior. The worst of it was that she knew not whither she was bound. Now that Aiofe was with her beau there only remained to somehow secure Magab’s kingdom and then what? 'What was there for her, what was there for Arina?'
She slumped into semi-torpor as the questions seemed unanswerable. How would she ever win back her homeland since now, as a maid, she would never become the powerful warrior she had expected to be?
‘Would she ever be able to swing Blueface’s sword or would it always remain denied to her, even though it was hers by right?'
There were just too many questions and too few answers. Her head ached. She suddenly tired of Arina’s ministrations and dismissed her like some servant girl, an act that hurt Arina as she left her heroine alone on the bench.
Drustina lay on in a troubled sleep and it was Aiofe who found her at the midnight hour.
Aiofe was worried to find her sister curled up naked on a bench in the now cold hypocaust. She slept with her hand tightly grasping her sword beside her head and her travel stained gown as a pillow. Aiofe crept up to the silent form and sat quietly on the bench for several moments hoping that her newfound sister would wake of her own accord. To Aiofe’s disappointment she didn’t. Drustina was muttering in her sleep and twitching nervously. What worried Aiofe more was the tear stains on Drustina’s cheeks. Aiofe, long accustomed to her departed brother’s troubled moods, suspected now that her newfound sister most probably suffered the same hurts. Aiofe felt compelled to wake her.
‘Gently though, Aiofe’ she told herself, ’ever so gently.’ Aiofe was fully alert to the dangers of rousing the once-boy Drustan from his troubled sleeps. Those same perils probably still existed with Drustina. If woken violently or suddenly, Drustina might well rear up with a nervous yell then strike out at lightning speed with her lethal sword that still lay immediately to hand, its hilt still lying firmly in her tense grasp. Drustina had never slept easily since the fright of killing Blueface.
Aiofe stared nervously then she had a brainwave. She started to sing - a long-remembered lullaby that her mother had sung to all the children. Aiofe had bitter-sweet memories of the tune for it brought recollections of her beautiful mother, the mother the twins would never ever remember, the mother who died but a few months after having them. Aiofe remembered. Aiofe remembered all the hurt and loss that the whole clan felt when Herenoie had died suddenly and unexpectedly. And when she, Aiofe, had been forced to join with her grandmother Giana and try to replace the irreplaceable loss. Softly, she started to first hum the tune then, as her memory served her, she found the words and quietly sang the whole song. Aiofe was delighted to see a slight smile wrap itself around her sleeping sister’s lips. She saw the sword hand relax and the white knuckle gain colour again as tension obviously flowed away. Eventually Drustina slowly uncurled and gave a soft yawn. Aiofe whispered softly.
“Wake up sleepyhead. Don’t let the larks be always first.”
It was an old family saying that Drustina’s grandmother had always used to rouse the smaller children and Drustina’s eyes opened as the memory caused her smile to spread. Aiofe finally concluded it was safe to touch her sister. She was pleased and gratified when Drustina responded to her caress by pressing her cheek to the back of Aiofe’s hand. Then the younger ‘girl’ woke with a start.
“What hour is it? The sun is not yet up!”
Aiofe grinned as Drustina’s eyes blinked.
“It’s not time for the sun to get up. It is only the middle hour of night. You should be abed in your chamber, not stretched out on the hypocaust benches. The furnace was extinguished hours ago, are you not cold?”
Drustina slowly realised she was cold and she sat up with mild alarm. Aiofe could not help but notice her ‘sister’s’ nipples were erect as also was the incongruous manhood that sprang from her rounded loins. She stepped to the rail and gathered a spare gown from the rack.
“You’d best make yourself respectable sister, or should I call you brother with that!”
Drustina peered down and gasped then frowned as she quickly flung the proffered gown over her shoulders.
“Sorry sis. I can’t help it. It’s usually there when I wake. Sorry.”
Aiofe did not know what to say. She was as much at a loss as Drustina with this newfound aberration. She at least, however, was sympathetic.
“Has Walezia shown you a chamber yet?”
“Uuuhmm no! He hasn’t. Where am I to sleep?” She asked as a yawn engulfed her maidenly features.
She stretched like a lithesome cat and her breasts sprang out as her arms stretched upwards. Aiofe realised her sibling would be an unwitting temptress if she walked abroad in the palace at night dressed as she was in a simple gown.
“You’d best sleep in my chamber tonight and we’ll get you sorted in the morning. Come let’s abed.”
Drustina frowned.
“You mean sleep in your bed, us two, together? What about this?” Drustina motioned to her swollen manhood. “Others are bound to talk! What would Magab say?”
“Nobody need know. You can get up early in the morning.”
“It’s early in the morning now sister. If I slept now, I would sleep ‘til noon! I’m shattered!”
“Alright then, but you can’t remain here, not like this, what happens when the servants come to light the fires and the palace menfolk come to bathe? One of them is bound to try something stupid and you’d be forced to use your sword. Then there would endless trouble when you injured them or worse.”
Reluctantly, Drustina acceded to Aiofe’s suggestion and allowed herself to be dragged to Aiofe’s chambers. The maid appointed to Aiofe’s service found the pair embraced in the morning. Fortunately she was not upset by Drustina’s condition. The maidenly beauty that Drustina enjoyed not only attracted men to her but it also made women feel safe. In Drustina’s ferocious blade, the women felt they had a genuine champion. She smiled at Aiofe and declared that she had no fear of Drustina’s duality and Drustina felt she had escaped any censure. It seemed that the new religion was particularly concerned with the separation of men
and women. Drustina had little time for such lunacy but ‘when in Rome’....
The sisters luxuriated in a bath together and Aiofe despatched the maid as they savoured the hot water. It was a perfect opportunity for Aiofe to find out more about her sibling’s painful duality. A tearful Drustina spent a full hour unloading her despair and yet acknowledging that she was indulgent in her sensuality.
“I know what it is like sister when my body enjoys my frenzy. That is the one and only consolation. For a boy it’s all before and for a girl it’s all after - for me it is both and all completion, everywhere and all over.”
Aiofe smiled a little jealously. It seemed that Drustina would have it all when her time came to choose, but for that dual privilege, she had to pay the price of condemnation by the priests of the new ‘one god order’. Aiofe had already heard some of the more bigoted priests declare her brother/sister to be ‘something from the Devil’, an abomination in the eyes of their lord. She knew her beloved Drustina would have a hard road to walk for her duality was now common knowledge.
Always, Drustina would have to be on her guard.
To Aiofe’s satisfaction however, Drustina was more than happy to dress in a gown whilst resident at the palace. The issues would arise when she wore jerkin and britches to sail her beloved Mermaid. Having slept late and bathed long, they missed breakfast and appeared for lunch. Magab and Walezia’s eyes turned appreciatively when they appeared. Drustina smiled inwardly as she noted the men’s reactions but her heart softened when Aiofe flung herself into Magab’s arms.
‘At least my sister has found happiness,’ thought Drustina, ‘and that mean’s my task is almost done.’
Drustina wondered if Magab was actually going to try and recover his kingdom and on this question he received confirmation at that very meal. Magab was determined to regain his rightful throne!
As Drustina sat between Magab and Arina, she listened to Aiofe present her ideas for the recovery of Carthage.
“My Lord Walezia, we do not have a huge army so we must use subterfuge. We must do what the Norsemen did to our nation. They assembled in strength at one point and overwhelmed that place before moving forward. The defenders cannot defend every little bay or rock, so they can never defend in depth. It’s the age old advantage of ships. The only way they can defend effectively against us is to use their navy but there we have the advantage. King Appotel has intimated he will ally himself with us because of what Drustina and I did for them in Iberia against Portega and the Barbary pirates. Thus we will have a more powerful navy and we can plan accordingly.”
“Agreed my wise maid,” Walezia concurred, “but what of the land war? Mutas has a large standing army and at some stage we will have to face it.”
Aiofe smiled. She remembered her brother’s subterfuge when using the secret passage into Pilus’s castle and she described the events. After hearing of them Walezia smiled at Drustina again.
“D’you know Mistress Drustina, every time we come to discussing you, I hear of yet another adventure, another escapade? You never cease to amaze me and amuse!”
Drustina blushed like a maid and Walezia had yet another insight into the confusion that beset his strange guest. Where once there was a wild and tempestuous boy, who flung himself into battle with total disregard for his life, there now was a beautiful maid, who sat at his table, blushed and wept like any maid would. The only visible evidence of the ‘boy’ was his male parts and the very real and permanent scars.
Walezia found himself privately thinking, ‘It’s a good job the boy never received any disfiguring scars to his face for such scars on a maid would forever compromise her chances of happiness.’
Then Walezia had to correct himself violently.
‘There was not just a maid under that gown; there was also a man and a deadly swordsman to boot! What would be her definition of happiness and how would she find it?’
Once again, Walezia found himself considering the plight of his most welcome guest and wondering whatever would become of the boy/girl - man/woman. Whatever the case, Walezia decided that he for one would always provide the maid with sanctuary, especially from some of the priests who even yet, after all the maid had done for the island Kingdom, still sought to try the woman for a sorceress.
As the rest of the diners discussed tactics, Drustina sat silent. She had ideas but had learned long ago from the wise Pedoro that it paid to keep them secret in large company. Even as the others spoke, Drustina, ever the paranoid cynic, kept her thoughts strictly to herself. It remained for her to speak with Walezia privately.
That opportunity came that afternoon as Drustina and Arina were sat by the window, and combing each other’s hair. There was a soft knock on the door and King Walezia’s face appeared. The ‘girls’ stood and Arina curtsied, while Drustina forgot herself momentarily and bowed. Walezia smiled and joined them by the window.
“Carry on combing, we can talk while you do it.”
Drustina smiled and returned to Arina’s hair as they considered styles. Walezia bided his time. He had nothing to do that afternoon or evening and he wanted to sound Drustina out. With that, there was a second knock and when Drustina opened the door she was both pleased and surprised to see Aiofe.
“Come in.” Drustina chuckled.”There’ll be a full council here before long.”
Aiofe entered and stopped momentarily as she recognised King Walezia. She smiled and intimated her thought: “My liege, I see you also felt my sister was too silent at the table today.”
The King smiled self-consciously and nodded, “she gave her thoughts away by her reticence. I wanted to see what thoughts she had for recovering Magab’s throne.”
Aiofe turned to Drustina and smiled, “I’ll do Arina’s hair while you talk. I’d like to hear your thoughts as well.”
Drustina smiled then frowned as there was a third knock on the door.
“By the Gods! Arina and I are popular girls today.”
She opened the door half expecting to find Magab and she wasn’t disappointed.
“You as well! Ah well, come in.”
After the inevitable expressions of surprised pleasure, the two men settled on Drustina’s bed as Drustina sat with her back to the window while Aiofe and Arina did her hair.
King Walezia encouraged her to reveal her thoughts, “so Drustina, what do you think?”
“Our land forces are too small for a pitched battle, but we all know that and it follows that we shall have to use subterfuge. The question is what subterfuges?”
“Yes Drustina, we realise that, so what subterfuges are you thinking of. I think we pretty much explored most of them.”
“Most, but not all. You discussed mainly hit and run attacks from the sea on the forts and strong points. The towns and stuff.”
“Yes the idea is to keep him on the defensive, always uncertain of where we’ll strike. The navy is ideal for that.”
“Yes. That bit’s good but it would lead to destruction of towns, people’s homes, public places, market places and all the other buildings. That would serve to antagonise the people against you Magab, as well as Mutas. Nobody wants their homes destroyed.”
“But you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.” Walezia added.
“I don’t want to make an omelette. I just want to pick cherries.”
“Go on.” Aiofe prompted her, “this sounds as though you have another idea.”
Drustina nodded and continued. “Why don’t we reverse the tables on Mutas? He tried to starve you into acceptance of his
sovereignty in Carthage so why don’t you try to starve him out, or more effectively, make the people go hungry?”
“If the people go hungry they might just as readily blame Magab, - just like my people wanted to blame Magab and Aiofe for our
problems,” Walezia objected.
“Yes, but we got around that by using ships to bring grain from Appotel’s Kingdom. When you were talking about battle at lunch you were only seeing ships as weapons of war to carry soldiers and attack at will. King Appotel and our sister Queen Mabina now have a huge fleet of trading ships. I saw them in Gibral when I was there. I know for certain that Mabina will move mountains to help me and Aiofe.”
Aiofe smiled as she began to get an inkling of her little ‘sister’s’ strategy.
“So are you saying destroy their grain and then as the people demand food, we supply it?”
“Basically yes. The plan will take longer to put together but it’s more effective in the long term and it doesn’t destroy the towns or the roads. What d’you think? We can land anywhere at will with small flotillas and attack the granaries while the main fleet keeps Mutas locked up in Carthage. We could even steal the grain and put it aboard our own ships for Mutas’s army will always be somewhere else. A fleet of warships and merchant ships gives us that extra option. Mutas owes us for the grain your merchants have already paid for anyway. Once the people have no bread they will soon become rebellious. No nation is more than four days from revolution when the food runs out.”
“Who will provide the intelligence about the location of Mutas’s army?” Walezia asked.
“Magab’s guerrillas. They live in the mountains and they move freely. They are an excellent source of accurate information and most long tails will have been cut by now,” Drustina replied.
“That’s a bit cryptic. Explain yourself,” Magab remarked.
“Long tails,” Drustina repeated. “Family ties. People for whom the rebels have feelings and ties. Mutas could try to threaten families who have sons in the hills but it will backfire on him in the main. If Magab lets those who feel they have a long tail go back to their families to serve as a sixth column, the rest of his supporters can work more effectively as fifth columnists. Information will be vital to us so the bigger and more widespread the sixth column network, the more effective our campaign will be.
The 'Mermaid' class of ships will give us all the speed and flexibility we need to hit hard and fast wherever we can and it is safe for us to do so.
“Your naval strategy is good but now you have a strategy on the land that is effective but slow. It might take two years to complete. The secret is to keep the countryside on our side while the townspeople go hungry. The best factor to this strategy is that our immediate lines of communication are short while our trading links are returning to what they were before the Berber pirates declared their war on the Straits of Gibral. Malta will benefit as it always has because it sits at the crossroads of many trade routes. You, King Walezia, will see your kingdom prosper if we win this battle.”
King Walezia gave a wry, knowing smile.
“You’re absolutely right - if we win. But if we lose...”
“Then I lose my kingdom,” Magab interjected as Aiofe added her argument.
“My Lord Walezia, you still have your new alliances with The Barbary States, Iberia, Lusitania and Italia. Those alliances will
stand you in good stead. All those countries want the passage from east to west made safe again for their merchant ships.
Historically, Malta has always ensured that safety. Your situation hardly changes because they can now supply grain even in the winter storms with those new ships that the Lusitanians have managed to bring into the middle sea. If we can return Carthage to the fold of friendly trading the whole of the western side of the middle sea will have peaceful trading relations.”
King Walezia could see the truth in Drustina’s words but he was still hesitant. Until he had sufficient stocks of grain and sufficient ships to maintain a campaign for two years, he knew they were on shaky ground. It was all about logistics and supply and Walezia knew much of these issues. His island always needed to import food and live by its trade.
In the end the issue was decided for him. As winter turned to spring, a fleet of Mutas’s warships appeared at the entrance to Valetta harbour and tried to blockade the port. That same night, Drustina, Arina, Magab and Torvel employed the Mermaid’s speed and slipped out of Valetta harbour to warn the next convoy scheduled to deliver grain from Iberia.
To Mutas’s chagrin, the fleet he had despatched proved to be inadequate. He had split his navy and retained half his ships in Carthage. On the other side however, things were different. A portion of Appotel’s fleet was not in Malta but escorting the next convoy of grain. Convoying was a tactic Drustina and Aiofe had learned in the Viking invasions of Britain and it was proving to be an equally effective defence. When Drustina made contact with the Turdetani convoy commander, he was overjoyed to learn it was Carl who now served as a senior captain in Appotel’s employ. Carl had known of the strange changes that had overcome the boy he had so grown to like but he was clearly shocked when Drustan now presented as Drustina and was a stunningly tall, slender, graceful maid. He expressed his shock and admiration when they met to exchange news. Having warned Carl of the ‘reception’ he could expect, Drustina and Magab returned to the Mermaid and accompanied the convoy back to Malta.
Consequently Carl’s convoy arrived off Malta prepared for war.
When the grain convoy appeared off Gozo - the second island in the Maltese Kingdom - the Carthaginian flotilla commanders realised they were outnumbered. Suddenly they had to divide their fleet to confront the approaching convoy. In this they were singularly ill-equipped as the warships that had been ‘bottled up’ in Valetta harbour now outnumbered the remaining blockaders. The mix of Turdetani, Lusitani and Maltese warships could now sally forth to meet the remaining portion of the blockading force. The Carthaginians were caught in a pincer. The rout that ensued could not even have been described as a battle. The ‘Mermaid’ class convoy escorts made short work of Mutas’s ships and the grain arrived virtually uninterrupted.
The lessons in naval strategy were not lost on any of the protagonists. Walezia realised he now had a war on his hands while Mutas realised he might just have made a mistake. The very act of trying to blockade Valetta and obstruct what had been until then, neutral Turdetani and Lusitani ships was a de facto declaration of war. Mutas had jumped the gun and shot himself in the foot. The citizenry of Malta, all traders to a man, now realised they were safe. As a dozen or so captured Carthaginian ships were escorted into the capacious creeks that made Valetta harbour, the message was loud and clear. Any threat of invasion from Carthage had been eliminated. After the battle, the city of Valetta celebrated its newfound security and freedom. Nowhere was that security better celebrated than in Walezia’s palace. Strangely however, Walezia was disappointed to find that his favourite captain was missing again along with her ship, crew and his most esteemed guest Magab.
Walezia tackled both Eric and Carl who had fought in the battle and they both confirmed they had seen the Angry Mermaid and her crew safe after the battle but then she had disappeared into a rain squall, last seen possibly going west towards Carthage. When Aiofe heard this news, she cursed softly. It seemed her newfound sister was every bit as reckless as her headstrong ex-brother had been. Knowing that nothing could catch the Mermaid to order her back, they could only wait and see and hope. For Aiofe and even King Walezia the joy of the victory feast was somewhat muted by Magab’s and Drustina’s non-appearance. Once again, Aiofe had to reconcile herself to her ‘sister’s’ distrustful nature and her disappearing at the most inopportune times. She was also angry with her own fiancé Magab for there were many important and urgent issues to be discussed concerning the forthcoming war.
The Angry Mermaid. 20
A chapter that explores Drustina's burgeoning dulaity and the consequences it causes with a monotheist church.
This chapter also explores Drustina's first forays into an adult relationship as a woman.
“I’m having problems with the priests, Drustina. Many of the ship commanders and nearly all of the Iberian and Italian admirals are followers of the One God of Israel. The priests have been telling them that you are a monster, the work of Satan, a man/woman who is blasphemous in the eyes of God.”
“And do they believe this ... the admirals, that is? Do they believe this after all that I have been through?”
“The priests are only concerned with serving God. Their book says that God created Man and Woman and that you are an abomination set amongst us by the devil. That’s why you have survived so many battles. Your sorcery and the devil protect you.”
“And do I get a chance to defend myself against these crazy accusations? If this God of theirs created man and woman then it must have created me for now I am both.”
“Drustina take care. You must refer to the one god as ‘he’. The god is a father god and a spirit god and a son god, a holy trinity.”
“Oh, so there’s no mother god or daughter god? This single god is in three parts, none of which is woman but it’s holy. How does it create life if it has no woman part?”
“Hist now Drustina, you ask too many questions, you must have faith, you must believe!”
“I’ll not believe that rubbish. I have more parts than this stupid one god. I have manly parts and womanly parts, I am both a son and a daughter and I have a spirit. I have more parts than this stupid one god so to hell with it I say! If any of those stupid priests tries to accuse me they can accuse my sword and then see where it gets them.”
“Words like that will bring you more enemies Drustina.”
“What, you don’t think I’ve already got enemies enough? If they want to try me and then kill me which seems to be their way then let them meet me with a sword! If I die then I’ll at least have my respect, like Blueface and Portega and Barbas the Barbary pirate admiral. These I have met and killed, if I die like them I will be happy; man or maid, I will at least enter a place fit for the brave.”
Walezia sighed. He simply wanted a few hours with his wife and daughters away from the talk of war, war, war.
“Will you join me with the ladies? Aiofe is here and Arina but please; no talk of war or gods. It is the Solstice feast tonight, the start of the new year and new hope.”
Drustina shrugged and Walezia’s shoulders sagged with relief.
“Very well my lord. Am I to wear a gown or come like this?”
“Put a gown on. That cuirass and britches only emphasises your maidenly body. Those britches are tight and they serve only to exaggerate your maidenly curves.”
“Very well, but I’ll keep my sword. I’ll feel safer if these priests are out to get me.”
“By all means Drustina, I know I can trust you around my ladies; and me for that matter.”
He entered the Queen’s chambers while Drustina went to change. She returned after only a few minutes wearing a royal blue gown with a tight fitting bodice and flowing hem that served to emphasise her femininity. Everybody’s eyes turned in admiration or envy as she swayed majestically into the Queen’s apartments. Drustina was without doubt a stunningly beautiful maid, tall and slender with flowing curves, yellow hair and pale blue-grey eyes. Even the battle proven Toledo blade at her slender waist seemed to endorse her femininity as it swung low on her maidenly hips. The transverse chest band of her dagger scabbard served the two-fold purpose of pushing her breasts up while harbouring her deadly weapon laid across in plain view and under her breasts. Walezia stared fascinated by the incongruence and his eyes flashed an intense welcoming smile.
‘Here truly was a warrior princess!’
Drustina slid her hips onto the bench and gracefully took her place at the table beside her older sister Aiofe. The conversation soon became animated and exciting for Aiofe was an old hand at drawing her sibling out of his/her shell. For once Walezia was able to relax and enjoy a pleasant afternoon away from the worries of war. They discussed womanly concerns especially the newly available cloths and materials coming out of the Berber ports for while this gave the girls a chance to discuss designs and patterns for gowns and dresses, it also gave Walezia an insight into likely trading patterns and opportunities for merchants at the regular Tuesday commerce conference. At this weekly meeting the merchants met to discuss the various trades so vital to Malta and its people. Thus while Walezia was listening attentively to the girl’s chatter he was actually looking for pointers in cloth and fabrics to give to his merchant’s guilds when he met them. If a king could give useful advice to his subjects it always served to enhance and secure his throne with his people.
Drustina surprised herself by finding herself interested in the girl’s attention to fashion. As a ‘boy’ she had never considered clothes except to ward off the cold; now she found herself considering colours and shapes of gowns and dresses not to mention jewellery and slippers. She found herself fingering the scabbard of her dagger and wondering if perhaps she might not have a more decorative sheath made just to house her faithful edge when she was attending just such meals as the one she was attending right then.
‘Perhaps a jewel encrusted harness for banquets and feasts,’ she wondered.
She made her ideas known to the rest of the girls and they squealed with delight. Several of them had noted how the breast scabbard served to ‘push’ Drustina’s breasts up into more prominence and whilst they might not have felt confident carrying a blade, all the girls were secretly considering a ‘breast scabbard’ type of accessory to enhance their blessings. The conversation turned to ‘breasts’ and support, a subject that both amused and embarrassed King Walezia He had the grace to blush as he turned to his Queen and smiled as he wagged his disbelieving head.
‘Women could be so ‘matter-of-fact and open with each other when discussing the most intimate of things!’ he concluded.
Having assimilated the women’s ‘openness’ amongst themselves about their bodies, Walezia turned to Drustina and asked wonderingly.
“D’you know my warrior princess, when I see you now amongst the ladies of my court, so happy and at ease, I am beginning to realise just how big a problem this maidenly transform must have been for you. You have my respect and admiration that you seemed to have handled it so well.”
Drustina’s eyes flashed with gratitude, for the King had expressed words of support and sympathy that she, Drustina, had never thought to hear. The laughter around the table fell silent as Drustina’s wide vivacious smile suddenly descended into tears of relief and happiness as she stumbled to her feet and hugged King Walezia tight to her breasts just as any loving daughter might. Then she turned to the Queen and slumped her head over the lady’s shoulder as she let the floodgates of joy open.
For a stunned moment King Walezia stared stupidly as the sobbing back of his most esteemed warrior princess. He thought she was crying with despair.
“What did I say wrong?” he begged of his Queen.
“Nothing darling, you said the perfectly correct thing. Drustina’s crying because she’s so happy.”
Walezia wagged his head in bemusement. As a father with four of his own daughters, not to mention a son away in Iberia cementing the new relations with Kings Appotel and Pilus, Walezia full knew the strange fickleness of women’s emotions. He actually rose from his chair and stepped over to wrap his arms around the sobbing warrior until her tears ended. Then as he felt the slender muscles rippling invisibly under Drustina’s peachy curves he realised that although his favourite warrior was definitely a woman, she still had that dangerous ability with weapons. As the hidden muscles rippled under Walezia’s tight hug Walezia sensed the sexuality of her embrace. His embrace slowly acquired a more comradely mode until a grateful Drustina turned and kissed him full on the cheek.
“Thank you my Lord. You’ll never know how much your words have brought me joy.”
The King blushed and all the girls around the table squealed their amused support. Walezia turned to his wife with wondering eyes and she enlightened him.
“My dear husband, it’s hard enough for a girl to enter womanhood after years of childhood expectation and anticipation not to mention teaching! Think how hard it must have been for the boy warrior to find himself set upon the same road with no preparation, no motherly guidance and the prospect of nothing but danger and threat from holy men and other manly predators. Your words have double the value to Drustina that they would have been to any ordinary woman. That is why the girl is so happy. That is why she cries. She has shown more courage travelling the road to womanhood as she has ever shown in her many battles and wars. You have just endorsed that truth and she is desperately happy. Now we girls have thoroughly enjoyed this meal, shall we invite some men in for dancing?”
The mood around the table brightened for all except Drustina who smiled nervously as she turned to whisper in the King’s ear.
“I cannot dance my lord, and what man would dance with a maid who bears manly parts?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when the men ask you to dance my dear. You shall have the second dance with me after I have led off first with my lady wife.”
Drustina sagged with some relief. If the King danced with her, it gave some degree of endorsement to her new-found maidenly status but she still felt nervous at the prospect of dancing with other men. Perhaps Torvel would help her in addressing her fears if he took her in hand. She knew she could trust Torvel for they had even slept with each other for warmth on the sea passages to and from Iberia. Nary a once had her Celtic comrade attempted anything untoward. Yes his hand had drifted over in their sleep as they had spooned together for warmth but it had never found its way to inopportune places.
As a boy, Drustina had never learned to dance so at least he didn’t have the disadvantage of ‘unlearning’ the boy’s parts to dancing. As the King released her from his embrace she sidled over to her big sister Aiofe.
“You’re going to have to teach me to dance sister.”
“I can’t think of a more enjoyable activity!” Aiofe grinned hugely as the doors opened and the ladies processed into the great hall.
Drustina chose to remain with her sister in the middle of the line. Entering first was a big no-no for that was the Queen’s right whilst coming last would be making a pretence of the ‘grand finale’. Drustina had already recognised that male heads turned when she made an entrance. Her looks, hair and curves ensured that. It wouldn’t do to outshine the other girls for that was the one thing Drustina found hard to reconcile with being a woman, namely female jealousies.
She slipped inconspicuously through the door and sidled up to Torvel who was chatting to Eric and Carl behind the king’s throne. As she slid her hand nervously around Torvel’s elbow his companions stopped in mid sentence.
“My, oh my!” Eric gasped as Carl’s jaw sagged, “so who are you my beautiful maid?”
Torvel grinned as he took Drustina’s hand and gently pushed up the wide flowing sleeve to reveal the angry scar that flensed up her forearm from wrist to elbow.
“You’ll remember that I’m sure,” he said as Eric’s eyes widened in shock.
“Drustan!” Eric choked.
Drustina lowered her eyes shyly, more embarrassed at her new-found status as maid than at Eric’s stunned realisation. Carl finally found his voice and stopped gaping.
“Well I’d heard the rumours, but I just didn’t believe it. So it’s true then. You’re now a maid!”
Drustina nodded and clung more tightly to Torvel’s arm as Carl’s eyes drank in the vision then fell to the familiar sword at Drustina’s slender waist. He reached out, tapped the hilt of the famed Toledo blade and smiled.
“You’re still a warrior though I hope.”
She nodded as Eric added.
“We’re going to need your sword in the forthcoming battle for Carthaginia. You’ve become something of a talisman to men in the fleets despite the priests and their poison. You can still use it I hope?”
“Try me in the training yard tomorrow dear Saxon. This sword can lead armies as well as protect my virtue. Besides, I need the weapons practice, living as a maid is fun but I don’t get much time to visit the yard or the butts. I haven’t fired my bow in a month.”
Carl’s smile widened.
“I will be honoured to cross swords with one of the finest swordsmen in the world.”
“Uuhhm, it’s swordswoman now Carl, but thank you for such a lovely compliment.”
Carl ginned as Drustina leaned away from Torvel to plant a delicate kiss on Carl’s cheek. Carl crimsoned but did not withdraw which gave Drustina some hope. At least the pagan men of the northern countries did not seem to condemn her for something over which she had no control. She turned to Torvel and called over her shoulder as the King led her away for his promised dance.
“Will you dance with me for the third dance after His Majesty?”
Torvel grinned and declared loudly.
“Of course I will my Celtic maid. What man can resist your charms?”
“And beauty!” Eric and Carl chorused as they staked their claims for the fourth and fifth dances.
Drustina had never enjoyed herself so much as that night but only the northern men seemed to find no incongruence in dancing with a maid who was once deemed a boy. It remained for Aiofe to reveal to the northerners that her sister was indeed endowed with all the maidenly parts whilst simultaneously warning them that she still had her manhood and her sword. It was Torvel who struck up the courage to ask Aiofe.
“Will she find motherhood?”
“It would seem so my fellow Celt. She functions in all else as a woman. Those womanly functions of which you know so little have come to her with all the force of an earthquake. My dear sister has had a tough time these past few years and few of us realised until it became utterly obvious. I for one, as her older sister was stupid not to spot it earlier. My dear younger sister has been through hell.”
“I can scarce imagine such a trial,” Drustan observed, “I for one would be horrified and distraught to be suddenly changed. It must be worse than being made a eunuch!”
“Oh come now,” Aiofe grinned, “It’s not all that bad being a woman, we at least can have children, you cannot!”
“But Drustina will, if she chooses.” Torvel observed softly as the magic of such a development overcame him.
“Yes, but only if she chooses. May the gods protect any fool who thinks he can force his will. Just warn Carl and Eric, I have seen her swordplay when she bested King Walezia but a few days ago in the gardens and he is no mean swordsman. He is highly rated by the Templar knights.”
“It will amuse me to watch.” Torvel smiled. “Carl and Eric quite fancy themselves as swordsmen.”
“Well I think there will be a goodly crowd of observers in the yards tomorrow.” Magab added. “There is a buzz about the hall tonight for Eric and Carl have both mentioned the challenge. King Walezia is amused and I know for a fact he favours Drustina. He’s tried her sword and it’s lost nothing of its speed or ferocity. Apparently most of the Templar knights are coming for they have heard the rumours but wish to see for themselves. A maid who can best a man with a sword, it intrigues them.”
Torvel excused himself to Magab as he saw Drustina free for a fraction of a minute and he seized the opportunity.
“Might I have another dance Drustina?”
She smiled and sighed.
“Yes, but take it easy, I must have danced a score of jigs and reels whilst some of the footwork amongst the men has been downright clumsy. My feet are sore with being trodden on.”
“Well stay in my arms for the rest of the night and I will go lightly with you. Remember you will need good footwork tomorrow to beat those fools with their swords. They will try to force you down.”
“Thank you kind sir. I’ll take your offer and dance with you for the rest of the feast. You, I know I can trust. Don’t be afraid, I won’t break, hold me closer if you wish.”
Torvel could hardly believe his good fortune as several pairs of envious male eyes followed the couple around the dance floor.
Sadly however, some priests stared disapprovingly at the pair’s pagan intimacy. To add fuel to the flames Drustina knew that the priests were aware of her duality and to a man they all felt she was some sort of monster, an affront in the eyes of their one male god. This duality threw their religious mores into a ‘cocked hat’ and left them confused and angry. That anger led them to detest Drustina. Old pagan customs and manners were being twisted by the new monotheist faith that set women aside and lower than men. Drustina sensed the oppressive censure but she was determined to claim what she felt was rightfully hers - equality with any man as earned by her sword and bow not to mention her lethal dagger.
In this much at least, Torvel, Carl and Eric were fully behind her and that put most of the men in the Turdetani fleet behind her. The priests were afraid to raise condemning tongues while four swords and a fleet of ships stood ready to refute their objections. As the night wore on Drustina found herself wrapped tighter and tighter in Torvel’s embrace and she had never been so happy. That night, on the winter solstice, Drustina slept with Torvel and lost her maidenhood as they spooned together when he took her from behind.
Our heroine discovers she is pregnant and yet she has a battle to fight and war to win. Interesting times.
The Angry Mermaid 21
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 21.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and twin to ...
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin The twins' grandfather.
Giana The twins' grandmother
Caderyn The twins' father.
Herenoie The twins' wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The twins' oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins' oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins' second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins' aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister).
Mogantu Twins' uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins' 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins' second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The Moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
The following morning Drustina fulfilled her promise. Both Carl and Eric tested her sword and found themselves bested. Fortunately they were both men enough to recognise the maid’s skill and they happily welcomed her return unto their fold as they had previously welcomed the boy. Indeed they had never cast her out of their comradeship but the display had been necessary to assure the Templar knights that the maid was truly a warrior.
Several of the Templar knights wanted to test their mettle against hers but after one fleeting duel, most realised the maid’s sword was every bit as deadly as its well-earned reputation. After that first Templar duel, King Walezia had the wit to call an end to the display. He knew that some of the Templar knights were zealous Christians who might well have gone for broke if they had been given the opportunity to face the maid. Had that happened, Walezia full knew what awful forces lay beneath the maid’s sweet nature. If a Templar zealot had tried to kill her, he would have met with certain death and that would have muddied the waters of the alliance irreparably.
After the morning’s sword play Walezia had to take the Templar commander aside and caution him to temper his knights.
“Dear Commandant,” he warned him, “do not be misled by the maid’s perfectly sweet nature. Under that beauty lies a soul of steel and that’s Toledo steel.”
After Walezia’s intervention Drustina endured no more abuse or censure from the priests for it was from the Templar knights that they garnered their temporal power. By offering the Templar knights a base from which to go forth on battles, Walezia also held power over them. They were beholden to him for their military base so central to the middle sea.
After a month of preparations to get a practicable force assembled, King Walezia and Magab deemed themselves ready to attempt evicting Mutas from his usurped throne. The guerrilla campaign had been working fairly successfully in as much as a serious bread shortage had arisen before Mutas and his cronies had the wit to spot the pattern of granary fires. By the time he started guarding the granaries, the damage was already done and no grain would be forthcoming from his own farms for at least another growing season. Nor would any be forthcoming from other sources thanks to the successful blockade organised by the Turdetani fleet. Several times in that month, Drustina had accompanied Magab ashore to monitor the campaign and plan different tactics.
The legend of the return of Magab, rightful King, and his ‘man/maid-at-arms’, added to the myths that were now flying all over the kingdom. Furthermore, the tactic of lightning strikes from the sea ... a lesson learned from the Vikings, brought Mutas unsolvable headaches. His forces were spread to every town were a full granary remained not only to protect the grain from guerrilla attacks but also to prevent the starving citizenry from looting the stores. Inevitably, rumours of Mutas hoarding grain to feed his own troops soon began to circulate and feed the civil discontent.
Mutas lived in dread of a landing in force that he might not be able to match without due warning to reassemble his scattered troops. Sadly, Walezia still didn’t have a force capable of meeting the whole of Mutas’s army in the field. Fortunately, Mutas did not know this.
All through the early spring Drustina and the other commanders secretly landed essential supplies to Magab and his fifth columnists. This was mainly weapons, food and information for the speedy Mermaid class of ships proved to be admirable tools and perfectly suited to these tasks.
By the end of March in the new monotheist calendar, Magab felt he was as ready as he’d ever be. Word was sent to Walezia who had managed to persuade his Italian cousins to lend him some troops. Walezia also felt it was better to strike while Mutas still had problems with hunger from the guerrilla’s granary campaign. Walezia’s army landed on the peninsular where the new Carthage stood and promptly cut Mutas off from the rest of his country. This landing put Walezia between Mutas’s two forces, the fortress garrison and the land army in the field. Despite facing two forces, Walezia was not unduly disadvantaged for with support from the sea and with the guerrillas harrying Mutas’s landward army from the rear Walezia managed to establish and then reinforce his beachhead.
With the city of Carthage cut off from sea and land, Mutas was under siege.
The first major battle involved the assault by Mutas’s land army against the temporary defences built by Walezia’s small army across the peninsular to address exactly such a move. Walezia and Magab had no intentions of bringing war to the citizenry by sallying forth to attack Mutas’s main land army. The defence of the mainland side of their shore landing position was to be primarily a holding operation while Magab’s guerrilla army snapped and bit at its heels and constantly harassed its supply train. A function ideally suited to the guerrillas and indeed the ‘marine troops’ trained by Carl and Eric who had had experience of such warfare when invading Britannia under their Saxon banners.
Drustina also indulged in these ‘hit-and-run’ operations for she could see the long term benefits. She was also seeking to protect what little hopes she had for her own future.
Almost every time she encountered different peoples in her attacks on Mutas’s scattered garrisons, she encountered prejudice and censure when rescued people learned of her transgendered duality - even though she had often saved those very same people from certain starvation when she, Eric, Carl, and Torvel delivered grain to famished villages up and down the coast of Carthaginia.
It wounded her that people could be so grateful in the morning for the food she delivered and then condemn her, even before the last sack of grain was landed because of the teachings by the new priests. Every day Drustina was growing to hate the new religion more and more. Fortunately, her military status and her standing with her faithful companion captains kept her free from the cruel machinations of the bigoted clergy. No priest would have dared to have the famous heroine arraigned before some sort of ecclesiastical kangaroo court in the middle of a campaign that was daily earning the love and support of Magab’s people. Though Drustina knew how the priest’s minds were working. She was deemed some sort of Pagan sorceress and blasphemer in the eyes of ‘The lord’.
To dispel the sense of isolation and loneliness these accusations brought her, she found much solace and comfort in the arms of Torvel her companion in arms and her companion in sleep. When not out campaigning, she spent many of her nights curled up in his arms savouring the sense of security he gave her. Sometimes she sobbed through pure fear at what the priests were storing up for her after the war. No amount of reassurances by Torvel, Eric or Carl could bring her comfort.
The whole conundrum left Drustina bitter and resentful.
‘Could not these people see that the priests were lying to them? She was not a monster and it hurt her deeply when she heard the words being uttered when priests did not know she was present.’ They preached peace and love yet burned people at the stake and condemned women to a life of drudgery and servitude. She dreaded to think what they might do with her for transgressing their bigoted preconceptions simply by being alive and transgendered.'
Sadly, she was too engrossed in the campaign and invariably too busy to address the lies when she heard them. Although she had heard that all three of her Northern companions had at one time or another given some bigoted holy man a sharp prod with their swords when they heard the preachings. Torvel had even shot an arrow at one and killed him in his pulpit when he had been particularly sickened by the bigotry and mendacity. However, these were isolated incidents and in the main, the good work the Turdetani fleet did in relieving the hunger, far outweighed the odd priest being admonished.
Eventually the guerrilla campaign began to bear fruit. As small garrisons were overrun in the outlying parts of the country by the ever-expanding and improving fifth columns, Mutas’s land army found itself becoming a prisoner in its own domain. In many of these small skirmishes, Drustina, Torvel and the two Saxons found themselves in the thick of the fray and Drustina’s reputation as a warrior only gained in reputation. The cruel irony was that her successes brought her the unwanted title of ‘Satanic Sorceress’ and that caused many superstitious soldiers to surrender without a blow being struck. The reputation served Drustina well for the immediate military present but she knew it would build up problems for her if and when the campaign was concluded and Magab had regained his throne. Once those hypocritical priests and their bishop had access to the royal court they would start to purvey their poison. Drustina had already seen much of the power they wielded through superstition and fear.
Eventually the military situation in the kingdom came to a head. Mutas’s land army was now hemmed in by the guerrillas on three sides from the country whilst backed up hard against the ever-strengthening defences of Magab’s beachhead across the narrow isthmus that previously connected Mutas’s fortress city to the rest of the land. The situation had evolved into a ‘military sandwich’. All through the guerrilla campaign, timber and building materials had been landed by sea to reinforce Magab’s beachhead. By the summer, a massive palisade of revetments and spikes ensured that the land army would have as much trouble storming the wall as defending themselves against the guerrillas in their rear. From his high battlements in the fortress city of Carthage Mutas could only fume and watch with foreboding as Magab’s forces grew steadily in strength. He had seen yet another regiment of Iberian spearmen arrive by sea that very morning and he had no idea how many reinforcements were strengthening Magab’s guerrillas. It also disturbed him greatly that despite Magab’s sandwiched beachhead, he was still able to receive supplies and equipment by sea. Several siege engines were taking shape in preparation for the attack on his city.
Eventually, Magab and Walezia called a council of war. The campaign had reached the crisis point as autumn and the harvesting season approached. Plans were discussed, chosen or rejected and then preparations were complete. Crunch time had arrived - the time when real blood would have to be spilt. Their first move was to be the intensification of guerrilla attacks against the rump of the main land forces. Magab however was not the instigator of the first main battle.
The commanders of Mutas’s land army had also concluded that the situation was getting critical. If Mutas did not at least regain a part of the country then they would have no share of the approaching grain harvest to feed them through the winter. They had little idea how many troops Walezia and Magab had on the isthmus but their own situation was becoming perilous. They would have to strike soon or the guerrillas would become too powerful and might even precipitate their own attack.
The army’s attack on Walezia’s palisade came early one morning and, in true conventional style, it was to be one massive surprise punch. Walezia and Magab were soon fighting for their lives while Drustina and Carl were still half a day’s sailing away loaded with reinforcements and supplies from Malta. This was a weekly routine that utilised a considerable chunk of the Turdetani fleet’s resources. Torvel and Eric were ashore assisting the guerrillas in upgrading the levels of their attacks upon the rear of the land army to try and draw the fire from Magab and Walezia.
By the midday sun the situation was getting critical. The land army was on the verge of breaking through on the north side of the isthmus shore and the Templar Knights were being desperately pressed. This was the situation that confronted Drustina and Carl as they sped south with all speed on learning of the attack.
As they watched the smoke rising from the battle scene neither Drustina nor Carl could make much sense from the chaos of the battle. They had brought their two ships almost to touching as they called across their ideas while Drustina was exchanging her beautifully fashioned female commander’s cuirass for a more mundane janissar plate armour. If she was going to lead her troops she did not want to invite arrows. Carl smiled at her stratagem. He knew the girl was not stupid. He called across as she was fastening the last couple of buckles.
“What d’you think Drustina?”
“Hard to say. I can make out the white tabards of the Templars but it appears that Mutas’s forces have broken through. There are green battle banners mixed in with the Templars so it must be hand to hand stuff. It looks pretty tricky at the moment, hard to say who’s winning.”
“Well if it looks still to be touch and go, there’s no time better than now for us to pitch in. We’ll bring instant relief to the Templars.”
Drustina had to agree, the longer they left the Templars struggling to plug the breakthrough the higher the chances of Mutas’s forces overwhelming the brave knights. Both she and Carl studied the situation on the beach as their ships ploughed forward towards the land.
“Where’s the best place to land? It’s quite deep close inshore by the dunes,” Carl asked, thinking about the steep shelving beach that he knew to lie just west of the palisade. It would bring the ships right up to the beach but make it difficult for the initial assault wading waist or even chest deep in water.
“I don’t think it’s about the ships Carl, it’s about where our men can be most effective. If we land directly by the broken palisade we only have to strike southwards for about fifty paces to reach the broken palisade. Then we can reinforce the line and recover the defence. We’ll then only have to face east and west for a few paces and our men will be piling ashore in ever increasing numbers. We’ll be hitting Mutas’s forces from the side and splitting his attack.”
“But we’ll be pincered by the two parts.”
“Not really, the front part is still having the devil’s job overwhelming the Templars. Our left flank will have it easy. We’d best put our heavy janissars on our starboard flank to land them on the little pier that used to form the seaward end of the palisade, that way their heavy armour won’t hamper them for they won’t have to wade ashore.”
Carl considered the idea and for want of time to debate further he agreed. Their ships were less than a thousand paces from the shore and there was not much time left to manoeuvre the ships to the right positions. In the end Drustina, ever the impetuous suicider, screamed to her captains to follow her to the little pier. Carl was about to tell her to leave it to the captains of the ships loaded with janissaries but as these were mostly in Drustina’s section anyway, he let it go. The Angry Mermaid with twenty heavily armed foot soldiers hurled itself towards the foot of the temporary wooden jetty. The ever-reckless Drustina hurled herself ashore with her immediate platoon striving to keep abreast of her furious assault. They were ashore and driving deep into Mutas’s army flank even before Carl could drive his ships up the shallower eastern beach to reinforce her attack.
The heavily armoured janissaries were eternally grateful that they could step ashore directly onto the captured jetty and therefore fling themselves into the fray with no danger of having to wade ashore. There was little risk from attacks by the archers because they were ashore in moments and mixing it hand to hand with the enemy.
Carl strained to find Drustina in the frenzy of the battle but he failed to see her, dressed as she was in the same garb as the janissars around her. Consequently he gave up looking and simply led his own men ashore to join with the hard-pressed Templars. Their effect was immediate as the heart returned to the Templar’s ranks and they roared with relief as they set to with renewed vigour.
Within an hour the breach was filled and Mutas's land army attack was repulsed. Carl finally caught a fleeting glimpse of Drustina furiously slashing at a group of hoplite spearmen before their retreat was sounded on a wailing horn. As the last of Mutas’s supporters were driven to the west of the broken palisade, Drustina and Carl’s troops rested on their swords. The surviving Templars were exhausted and simply slept where they fell for they had been fighting since the mid morning and it was now one o’clock. The Templar commander staggered over to where Drustina and Carl were organising a counting of their dead. As Drustina left, he only recognised Carl in his commander’s breast-plate and he turned to him.
“I’m never more glad to see you comrade. T’was a landing well made and well timed.”
“Aye,” Carl replied. “And close run. There’ll be food shortly. One of the supply ships is berthing now with hot broth.”
The commander smiled gratefully and set his sergeants to organising his exhausted knights. As he continued discussing the outcome with Carl, Drustina returned from the count still wearing her common janissar’s tunic and body armour. Without acknowledging any rank she strolled up to her companion commander and sighed despondently as she unthinkingly interrupted the two men.
“Thirty seven dead and eight badly wounded, any more victories like that Carl and we’ll be hard put to maintain this war.”
The Templar commander span around at this seemingly upstart soldier who presumed it acceptable to casually approach a senior commander and address him by his name instead of rank. Partly through irritation and partly through fatigue he swung around angrily and admonished the common soldier.
“Damn you man. Can’t you see we are talking? Stand to attention when you’re in the presence of your commander!”
Before Carl could even respond, Drustina’s sword appeared with lightening speed and the Templar commander suddenly found its point resting painfully hard against his Adam’s-apple.
“And damn you for your bloody ingratitude. One more insult and you’ll be gutted like a slaughtered sheep!”
The Templar commander paled with shock. He had been still holding his own sword in his hand and yet he knew that he could never have matched the speed of this soldier’s sword. Then he recognised the workmanship of the sword at his throat - a true Toledo fighting blade of the finest quality. If this common soldier was the rightful owner then he was no common soldier. It was only then that the slow dawning filtered through his fatigue. Under all the blood and gore, the ‘common soldier’s’ voice had been pitched like a woman. Now he recognised the soft slender jaw and long golden tresses tucked up under the common janissar’s head-piece.
“Oh shit! It’s you! The maid!”
“And we’ll have less of that language in the presence of a lady!” Drustina giggled more from relief than amusement.
The commander offered his immediate apologies and extended his hand in comradeship.
“I’m sorry my lady. It’s been a hard fight and I’ve lost several of my best friends.”
He watched the tears of relief begin to wash the blood down Drustina’s cheeks. It was a natural maidenly response to the awful trauma of battle and the commander suddenly began to realise the maid had been in the thick of it. The harness of her janissar’s tunic showed several fresh sword slashes where the girl had obviously just managed to avoid death.
“And so have I, Commander. Several of those brave janissars sacrificed themselves to protect my person. I’m afraid I was too reckless with my own safety. It cost them their lives and for that I’m guilty.”
“You are too remorseful my lady. It’s the fortunes of war, I take it the men knew they were accompanying a maid into battle.”
Drustina nodded her head guiltily.
Carl listened to Drustina’s regrets and considered his comrade in arms. A year ago the boy Drustan would have not shed a single tear for his dead or wounded comrades, now the maid Drustina was all remorse and apology for their deaths.
‘Could this be what made the difference between men and women?’ Carl asked himself as he put his arm around Drustina’s heaving shoulders.
“Come now my dear lady companion in arms. There’s no need to weep. The fight is over and you were as brave as you always were. I know you carry at least one fresh wound because I saw the hoplite spear strike your thigh.”
Drustina tugged at the slash in her britches. Fortunately the spear had only jabbed a small way into the flesh. It was bleeding but not seriously. She frowned and pressed herself deeper into Carl’s embrace for it was now, only after the event and when the realisation of the risks she had taken began to permeate her emotions that she began to feel afraid. She shuddered and savoured the tightening of her companion’s embrace. It was just so wonderful to feel safe again.
The Templar commander studied the hugging pair as they returned arm in arm to the supply ship to wait in line for their meal. He shook his head as he recognised the strange sexual comradeship that seemed to endure between Drustina and all her fellow captains. He had seen the same dynamics between the maid and her full time companion Torvel. It was obvious her comrades worshipped her.
‘There was a warrior queen in the making,’ he concluded. ‘There was no witchcraft in that embrace it was pure man-woman stuff! Whatever the priests made of her, they would be sorely put to condemn the maid in front of her companions.’
With the first battle over, Magab and Walezia eventually came over to examine the state of the palisade. They were pleased to see that the Turdetani sailors had finished their food and were busy repairing the breach. They had also brought in one of the timber ships and they were modifying the jetty to better protect the ships from attack by archers. A higher palisade was being dug in from the jetty to the break in the original fortification. Walezia was much pleased with the work as he congratulated Drustina and Carl. She put down a long stake she had been carrying to greet the King. He smiled as he noted her burden.
“One minute the admiral, next minute the general and now the engineer. How do you do it young lady?”
Drustina beamed with happiness as the King addressed her as ‘lady’
“I want to see my sister and prince Magab safe in their rightful home. If it takes labour as well as soldiering, I'll see her right.”
The King let his eyes savour the curves under the tight britches then he noticed the blood stained slash.
“Are you wounded?”
“Not badly sir, there are others with greater needs than mine. I can wait.”
“Don’t be silly Drustina. You’re too bloody valuable to our cause. Go and get it treated.”
Drustina turned to the men in her work gang and declared.
“The King orders me to get my wound fixed. Are you agreeable?”
There was a roar of approving laughter that Drustina took as a yes and the Templar commander pointed out one of his hospitallers.
A few minutes later there was a confused oath from the Hospitaller’s tent.
“Damn it commander! The rumours are right! She is both man and maid.”
The Templar commander gave a sigh as King Walezia rolled his eyes skywards.
“We all know that you idiot! Just sew her cut up as you would any other wound.”
“And don’t sew my girl parts up you fool!” Drustina added which brought a roar of amusement from all those in earshot.
This put the Hospitaller at his ease as he tenderly put herb paste in the cut then took the edges of the wound and sewed them together. Within minutes Drustina was dressed and back with King Walezia, Magab, Carl and the Templar commanders.
“So, what’s the next step?” She asked the King.
“Wait for the next assault. Where would you prefer to be? Here awaiting their next attack or joining your lover Torvel with the guerrillas.”
“With Torvel my liege. Carl is nice but Torvel is my true love.”
Carl let out a chuckle as Magab grinned and pressed a kiss to Drustina’s cheek. She crimsoned slightly and smiled as Walezia looked on.
“Careful Magab, that’s your future sister-in-law your getting fresh with.”
Drustina turned to the King and grinned. “He wouldn’t dare my lord. Aiofe would tear his fucking balls off.”
Walezia chuckled at her remark. Only a maid who swung a sword and fought in the thick of combat could get away with that sort of soldier’s language. He cautioned Drustina affectionately.
“Mind you keep that language for the battlefield young lady, don’t use it at court.”
With the King’s permission, Drustina called her crew together and took her leave. She checked the Mermaid for any damage because they had landed against the jetty quite heavily when they attacked. Finding her beloved craft undamaged and still as tough as ever, she set course for a bay further north where the weakened central garrison and its township had just been recaptured by Torvel’s terrors.
There she hoped to celebrate their first major victories in the manner she had best come to like - a night in Torvel’s arms. It was just sooo-oo good to curl up and feel his powerful muscles wrapped around her and to savour the intimacy of his male part invading her female parts. As he took her, Torvel even occasionally caressed her manhood and for that Drustina was forever in his debt. The gentle giant seemed to be the only man she knew who could accept her physical duality whilst yet recognising that inside her head she was now a woman. It was a full two days before the pair emerged from Torvel’s tent to the knowing smile of Eric’s grinning face. To Drustina’s everlasting gratitude, Eric simply handed her a glass of wine from the breakfast table and kissed her on the forehead like an affectionate brother.
“Got it sorted sister?” Eric whispered as he grinned at Torvel.
Drustina smiled bashfully and took a lump of bread and cheese with her wine. She mouthed ‘thanks’ silently to Eric whilst mouthing ‘love you’ to Torvel before the three were plunged into the preparations for the next foray against the land army’s supply train.
Both Eric and Torvel marvelled at how the submissive maid who had surrendered utterly in Torvel’s arms those past two nights was now the hard-headed tactician and swords-woman who would give huge leverage to their efforts by dint of her fearsome reputation. Her reputation caused many superstitious soldiers to surrender without a fight whilst her famous sword also added immensely to the guerrilla’s ‘fire power’ in the actual combats.
The guerrilla band set forth into the mountains where a large column of supplies was reported to be gathered and escorted under a heavy military force to ensure its arrival at the Carthaginian battleground. As the guerrillas made haste to the reported position Drustina had forebodings that she expressed to the band’s leaders.
“This supply train seems like too tempting an offer, d’you think it’s a trap?”
“Well if it is they’ll be hard put to overwhelm us, our band is grown to about a thousand strong!” the Carthaginian guerrilla leader replied.
Drustina glanced back along the column, it was indeed a long line but she was still dubious.
“Perhaps if we split our forces, say three hundred and seven hundred. Let the smaller force spread out and travel point.”
“So how would you divide it maid?” the Carthaginian asked.
“Well we can make the larger section up out of experienced older hands who know and trust each other.”
“Why d’you say that?”
Drustina shrugged and chewed her lip thoughtfully, she did not want to cast doubts upon the guerrilla’s loyalties but it seemed an awful lot of new faces had appeared in the ranks since they had captured the central garrison and its town. Drustina just had a feeling in her water. She swallowed nervously and prepared her words carefully whilst loosening her sword just in case some hot-headed fool took umbrage at her suggestions.
She prepared her questions carefully whilst making sure she was stood between Eric and Torvel.
“These new recruits to the band. Are they all battle tested and proven?”
“Well no,” the leader admitted, “but everybody has to start somewhere.”
“Well just look at them marching,” Drustina observed. “They stay close together and keep time if not step. The travel as a seeming unit yet they are supposed to be raw recruits. I should have thought your sergeants would have been up and down the column chivvying them along just to keep up with the rest of our older hands. If they were genuine raw recruits wouldn’t they be constantly pestering the older warriors for advice and ideas?”
Torvel’s face frowned as Eric turned in his saddle to study the new band. After several minutes he felt forced to agree with Drustina. The supposed new recruits were a well organised, compact unit. Eric exchanged glances with Torvel and they both turned to face the Carthaginian leader as Torvel asked the question.
“Who recruited them?”
“Well they came over several days,” the Carthaginian replied.
“Yes, but amongst your officers, here, now. Which officers recruited them?”
“Well,” he hummed and hawed, “I don’t fully remember, I can’t rightly see them amongst us just now. Do you recognise any Eric?”
“Can’t say as I do.”
“So who’s commanding them right now?” Torvel pressed again.
“They seem to be remarkably well disciplined,” Drustina added. “Too well disciplined! They’re even better organised than our old troops.”
The four leaders eyed each other nervously as Eric remarked to the Carthaginian.
“Only a woman’s eye would have picked that out but the girl’s right. I don’t like it.”
“So what to do?” the Carthaginian wondered.
“Separate them,” Drustina replied. “Make some pretence that we are dividing our forces to pincer the supply train.”
“It will weaken our force,” the Carthaginian leader cautioned.
“It will indeed but if they turn coats in the battle they will be amongst us and easily overwhelm us. We will have our hands full with fighting the convoy’s military escort.”
The Carthaginian leader frowned as doubts began to disconcert his confidence. The man however was intelligent and he knew he could trust his immediate lieutenants.
“Ideas gentlemen?”
“How many are they?” one wizened old campaigner asked.
“Two hundred and ten. Seventy ranks of three abreast. Just look at how well formed they are!”
The others turned with surprise as Drustina explained.
“I’ve already counted them before I expressed my concerns and I have the new numbers.”
The other guerrillas looked askance, they had heard of the new numbers even in their own kingdom but few had yet to master them.
Only the educated and the elite had them as yet. The multiplication had been easy for Drustina, seventy times three, but in the old roman numerals few would have completed that sum in their heads.
“That’s a formidable chunk of our forces,” Eric observed. “Now how are we to separate them without our raising their suspicions?”
“Like I said, make pretence that we are pincering the convoy. If you want I will lead their band a merry dance through some narrow paths through the hills. I know these parts for I came this way on the night before I found Magab.”
The column was halted for the night and all troops ordered to take food while the leaders decided what to do. Drustina secretly led the Carthaginian leader into the darkness and revealed to him the narrow cleft hidden at the top of the path. The commander was impressed.
“And you came through here?”
“No. I climbed up that cleft in the rock, see there. This cleft was guarded by just two of our number back then but they could readily defend the path. This base isn’t used now because we have the lands below in our control, but you can see it is a perfect blind box. There is only one way in and out via this narrow cleft too narrow even for a horse. A couple of archers with a lot of arrows could stitch up a whole army if they stood here to prevent anybody coming out. If we can lead the two hundred into that lair, they are trapped and neutralised. We wouldn’t even have to kill them, just hold them for the time we attack the convoy.”
The old Carthaginian nodded sagely then smiled at Drustina.
“You don’t like killing do you maid?”
“Not any more commander, I’ve seen enough and done enough. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. I’ll kill if I have to but this plan avoids unnecessary slaughter.”
“I have heard of your exploits dear lady and this plan is an excellent one. How many of my men know of this.”
“Only the ones who joined Magab in the first weeks of his struggle, when they used this as a base. If we return to the troop I can point them out. Those men I can trust and so can you!”
“Yes, I came later to the campaign; I was busy winkling out soldiers still loyal to Magab for the first few months. I hardly left the city of Carthage during those brutal pogroms.”
Drustina smiled knowingly. The man must lived on the edge of his nerves avoiding discovery and capture. His had been an early campaign every bit as tough as the men actually starting the guerrilla bands.
“Where would you rather be commander, here leading a wild rebel band or lined up in the ranks of Magab’s invasion force?”
The grizzled old campaigner smiled back.
“I’m happier here Drustina as I fancy you are, laying our own plans, setting our own traps.”
They exchanged a knowing chuckle as they returned down the track and emerged from the darkness to join Eric and Torvel. The other officers had spread amongst their own platoons to avoid the risk of any ambush killing them all together. They were a battle hardened company.
Later that night Drustina took several of the ‘old guard’ with her as they explained the pincer movement to the new recruits.
“There is a secret pass through the mountains but we must make haste. It will be an easy ambush but we must leave now to take the hidden path without being detected. It will be an easy introduction for you new recruits, an easy battle with little bloodshed,” Drustina promised.
‘Well it will certainly be an easy battle!’ She smiled inwardly, ‘they won’t swing a blade in anger.’
“We will make camp at a secret base in the mountains and attack at dawn down from the hills when the rest of our forces are fighting below. Yours will be the easier task but we will blood you gently for you are still raw recruits.”
Drustina sensed the confident ripples of mirth rolling down the column but that was her intention. The ‘recruits’ had to think that nobody suspected their allegiance.
Thus informed, the troop set off along the narrow path with Drustina seemingly leading the way. The old hands followed the ‘recruits’ and none of the overconfident suspects realised that these were the only men carrying bows, nor did they realise in the darkness that those same veterans of the guerrilla campaign were carrying an inordinate number of arrows. In the darkness the ‘recruits’ were led up the narrow path and through the cleft in the rock-face to find themselves settled for the night in the old secret campsite. In the darkness they failed to realise they were boxed into a blind canyon with no way out save the narrow cleft they had entered or the vertical chimney crack that Drustina had climbed during her first secret visit. Once the troops were settled Drustina slipped away unseen. She did this by slipping up to the escarpment and then chimney-walking back down the chimney crack to emerge below the narrow cleft were a few guards were keeping watch. Some of the guards were the new recruits but they were outnumbered by the loyal old guerrillas. Drustina was glad she had made the climb in the daylight previously because it helped her find the few, rare grips and holds that the sheer granite face reluctantly provided. Once down from the top of the ridge Drustina took no time to sneak further along the path until she rejoined the old hands seemingly keeping watch below the narrow cleft. As she approached them she let out a low birdcall and they turned to meet her creeping up the path. With knowing whispers they informed her that the whole troop was now boxed inside the canyon except for the two recruits accompanying the guard at the cleft. The interlopers would not learn of their entrapment until daylight revealed their plight.
Drustina asked if they wanted her to remain with them or return to the main camp.
“You go dear lady,” the faithful old sergeant assured her. “You’ve done your bit. There are more of our trusted men coming up as we speak to reinforce the jaws of the trap. We know this canyon of old, they’re trapped like rats. It remains to find out if they are for us or against us.”
“We’ll know that after we’ve raided the supply convoy and found out what the escort was expecting,” Drustina grinned as she trotted back down the familiar path to claim a few hours sleep before dawn.
She found Torvel’s tent then quickly snuggled up to him and immediately spooned against his hard muscular stomach. As she squeezed gratefully into his heat she smiled as she felt the inevitable familiar hardness that grew into her secret place and confirmed her femininity as it found its goal. To add further to her contentment his fingers found her other part and this served to reassure her that Torvel really did care for her whole being. After satisfying each other they fell asleep for the last few hours before dawn. When its pink searching fingers reached across the sky neither of them wanted to wake, but duty called. Eric’s booming voice ripped into their slumbers and dragged them to wakefulness as he organised the remaining troops. Then he stuck his bearded face around the tent flap.
“Come on you two. There’s a raid to be made!”
Torvel growled and Drustina whimpered despairingly.
“Haven’t you got an army to organise?”
“If you don’t get up soon, you’ll miss breakfast.”
Torvel stirred eagerly and scrambled into his britches but Drustina just moaned piteously.
“Come on darling. We might not eat until tonight or even tomorrow morning.”
“Huwee!”
“What?”
Even as her stomach heaved, Drustina leapt out of bed and dived for the tent flap.
“Huuuweeegh!”
“Oh shit!” Torvel gasped. “Are you alright?”
“No I’m bloody not.”
Torvel studied the delicious bare arse and felt tempted as Drustina bent her head outside. It was quite the most inviting target he had ever been offered especially as he sported a monstrous erection. He placed his hand upon her scarred cheek and she cursed.
“You come near me with that thing and I’ll give your arse as good as my cunt gets. Fuck off. Go and piss it away!
Huuuwweeghh.”
Her violent heave followed by projectile vomiting frightened Torvel.
“What’s wrong darling, are you coming down with an ague?”
“I don’t know, bugger off and get your breakfast. I … huuuweeegh!”
Instead of going to eat, Torvel stalked off towards the medical tent. There he found the healer boiling up some herbs. She looked up then stood as he entered.
“Hello Torvel. I don’t usually expect to see you in here. What’s wrong?”
“Drustina’s sickening for something. Can you come and take a look at her?”
The healer adjusted the small pot on her fire and called to her young assistant.
“Look after this darling, our beloved lady leader is ill.”
The girl did as instructed and the healer gathered her curative herbs to follow Torvel across the camp kitchen. She arrived to find Drustina’s head still sticking out through the tent flaps and a pool of vomit on the ground. Quickly the healer grabbed a bucket from near the cooking fire and took the sick girl inside.
“Here my lady. Puke into this.”
“Thanks, well at least someone’s got a bit of bloody sense; here I am with my arse sticking in the tent while my bloody face sticks out!” She glared at Torvel then asked him. “Why didn’t you get a bloody bucket boyfriend?”
“I didn’t think!”
Drustina wagged her head and exchanged a knowing look with the lady healer.
“Bloody men! Can’t even think of a simple bloody thing like a bucket.”
“Well said sister,” the healer replied, “how long has this been going on?”
“It only started this morning.”
The healer frowned and felt Drustina’s pulse. It was strong and healthy, stronger than some old men’s. Nor did the maid have a temperature. The healer spoke sotto voce.
“I am aware of your strange duality; but then who isn’t? Do you get visits from Dramas?”
Drustina nodded and pulled a face expressing distaste. The healer nodded sympathetically.
“It must be weird to feel both a man’s feelings and a woman’s. When did Dramas last visit?”
“Can’t say. Don’t really remember. I’m not very regular.”
“Huh that’s hardly surprising. Try and think now.”
Drustina thought long and hard then she called to Torvel who was eating his breakfast outside the tent.
“Hey, greedy guts, when were we attacking the double granaries of Bizerte?”
“Crickey that was months ago darling, what, two moons maybe three. No two and a half.”
The healer wagged her head sagaciously then explained.
“If you’re sick tomorrow morning come to me. How long have you been enjoying sex with that randy satyr?”
“Since the Winter Solstice.”
The healer smiled. “Huh, the longest night, that figures, he finally wore you down did he?”
“No. He was the only one prepared to show me any affection. I was frightened and lonely, that fucking Bishop in Malta is a total arsehole. He must even hate his own mother.”
“Have you slept with anybody else? To have sex with, that is?”
“No! What d’you think I am - a bloody whore?”
“Well then let’s hope Torvel’s baby loves his or her mother better than that Bishop.”
Drustina missed the point briefly.
“Torvel’s a bloody man, how can he have a …? Oh shit! You’re bloody joking!”
“I’m not. Lie down and let me check you over.”
Drustina blushed as she cautioned the healer.
“You’d better prepare yourself for a shock.”
“Don’t be stupid girl! I’ve seen more cocks and cunts than you’ve had hot dinners.”
“But not in the same crotch though, I’ll wager!”
“I’m expecting it. Half the people of Carthaginia know of Drustina the man/maid.”
“Yeah and all the bloody priests. Go on then, take a look; get on with it.”
The healer spread Drustina’s legs wide and placed a smooth log under her arse so that Drustina could not have felt more vulnerable.
“D’you have to do it like this?”
“Can you think of any other way? I need to get a good look.”
“By the gods, there’s no privacy and - OUCH! Don’t bloody press like that woman, those were my balls!”
The healer frowned as she carefully probed again. This time she realised the incongruence and confirmed that Drustina’s balls were indeed located in what would normally have been the Labia majora of a normal woman.
“God you’re a strange one and no mistake. How do you have sex?”
“How d’you think?”
“Animal style?”
“Yeah. Woof bloody woof!”
The healer slowed down as she realised there were more complexities than she understood. However, after checking every possible and potential complication she finally concluded that the fighting maid could actually have a child and indeed, it looked as though she was going to. There was even a slight swelling in her abdomen, though invisible except to a healers inspection. It was April now so if the girl had not started having sex until the Winter Solstice, the most she could be was four months pregnant, more probably two or three. Morning sickness more usually arrived in the 2nd and 3rd months. After probing and testing for nearly an hour she sighed and looked down at Drustina’s resigned expression.
“If you are with child, and it looks like you are, are you going to tell him?”
Drustina frowned then wagged her head.
“Not until all this bloody battle with Mutas is sorted. Magab needs all the help he can get.”
“Good God, girl, surely you’re not going to fight again at least until you’ve had the child!”
“Just keep this under your hat. Don’t tell anybody - right? This battle is nearly over and when it is, I’ll return to Malta. At least I get decent treatment there.”
The healer looked hurt and Drustina realised that what she had said sounded like a criticism of the healer’s skills. She quickly corrected herself.
“No ... no! Not like that, not the medical care - I meant the social acceptance. The priests and Bishop here in Carthaginia are a particularly misogynistic bunch of arseholes. Magab’s got his work cut out once he recovers the throne. Half the reason Mutas got away with murdering their father was the fact that the sycophantic coward of a Bishop was too gutless to condemn Mutas for the patricide. You’ll note that he’s only changed sides and come over to Magab now he thinks Magab looks like winning. Truly these ‘one god’ bastards are a treacherous crowd. Why have they got it in for women?”
“How do you know all this, girl?” the healer asked.
“God’s teeth woman! I speak to other women when we free these towns of the tyrant’s garrisons. They all say the priests accuse women of all the temptation. It’s always the women’s fault. The first book in their stupid scriptures accuses women of causing the downfall of man. If that’s not stupid misogyny then I don’t know what is; and as for anybody who’s the slightest bit different, well look out. These priests are mad!”
“So what’s so good about Malta?”
“Walezia will look after me and my baby. He’s got the priests there under control. He’ll not let them harm me. I’ll be okay long enough to have my child and maybe wean it there.”
“Are you going to marry Torvel, or rather will he marry you?”
“Doubt it. What man would marry a maid with a cock? What man would be allowed to marry a maid with a cock, especially if these stupid ‘One God’ priests have their way? Besides there’s Arina to think of. She’ll be of an age soon and we’ve always assumed she and I will get wed. You could say she and I have been courting since we rescued her all that time ago.”
“But Arina’s not yet past her thirteenth year. The law says ...“
“What law is that? The priest’s laws?”
“Well … yes actually.”
“Once she gets Damara’s call she’s ready to wed and bed if she wishes. If she’s capable of having children, she’s capable of getting wed.”
“Would she be mature enough then?”
“What? You mean in her head?”
“Yes.”
“She’s been through three wars with me, even fired bows in battle, if she’s mature enough to kill soldiers; she’s mature enough to wed. Like I said - when she’s ready, she’ll decide. Ye gods woman, I’m only just approaching my sixteenth summer and here I am fat with child!”
“Well not yet fat Drustina, your belly’s a long way to go yet.”
“I know, I know - you don’t have to remind me. That’s why I want this war finished and I can return to Malta.”
“Well we all want this mess over; everybody’s got their personal reasons.”
“Yeah and now I’ve got mine - shit this is a bloody mess, come on, let’s get some breakfast, I could eat a mangy horse!”
“Well that might be another sign.” The healer smiled, “strange food fads.”
Drustina gave her a fatuous look and slipped on her short britches and soft top. The weather was getting distinctly warmer as the spring gradually turned to summer. As she pulled the drawstrings and buckle tighter, the healer could see why the Celtic fighter Torvel was so enamoured of the Celtic girl for she was certainly attractive; tall and lithe like a panther but with a curvy maidenly shape. It was obvious to see what attracted all the men to her. She followed the ‘warrior princess’ out of their tent and noted the eyes of the guerrilla leaders lighting up as Drustina trotted towards the latrine before joining the men. Torvel had already reserved her a place at his side at one of the small tables by the mess-tent cooking fire.
For several moments the healer readily sensed the concern around the breakfast fire as Torvel looked up at the healer. She read the concern in his eyes.
“Is she sickening for something serious?”
The healer grinned.
“No leader, nothing serious, nothing that she won’t get over. She may be sick for a while each day but she’ll get over it.”
The concerned silence relaxed and a general buzz of conversation returned. The healer took some food from the large pot and made Torvel shift up further still.
“When d’you think this war will be over?” She asked.
“Hard to say healer, by the late summer I shouldn’t wonder. Another hundred men came to our camp yesterday. They’re all keen to right wrongs done to them by Mutas’s oppression and they’re all keen to catch a glimpse of the man/maid that reputedly leads us.”
“Reputedly? So who does lead?”
“Why Magab of course while King Walezia and the lady Aiofe give him counsel. We have to work in close harmony with his force now and the crucial battle approaches. Mutas’s main land army is but ten miles to the south and it’s being pinned down more and more by our tactics.”
“So the maid is really a sort of mascot, a talisman.”
“Talisman? Well yes, I suppose so, but I wouldn’t let her hear you accuse her of being a mascot. Her sword is one of our most valuable assets.”
“So what’s the most valuable?”
Torvel smiled as the men around the breakfast fire all listened avidly for an answer. Torvel looked around at his companions and grinned.
“Why her wit of course. She has some clever ideas when we’re out there in the thick of it. Several times her grasp of the situation had brought us through some tight spot.”
There was a loud murmur of agreement amongst the chiefs as consensus was reached and men fell to chatting about specific incidents that they had personally experienced. Each one of them had personal stories to tell about the man/maid’s acumen and fortitude. The healer recognised that in the pregnant maid, absent from the breakfast fire by her calls of nature, she had a very special patient. Hers was going to be an onerous responsibility ensuring that the maid’s strange duality where it mattered did not cause problems during parturition. She comforted herself as she recollected the properly formed women’s parts. Hopefully there would be no tearing or ruptures when the child came. For now Drustina could keep her secret but it would eventually be impossible to deny.
As she reflected into the flames there was a general rise in the clamour around the fire, she looked up and smiled. Drustina had rejoined them. The man/maid certainly had charisma and was held in huge affection amongst the rebels for every officer smiled as she joined the group. The healer watched Torvel brighten with pleasure as she wiggled her curvaceous bum between him and Eric. Then like any provocative minx she stole one of the remaining titbits off Torvel’s plate and grinned as he scolded her affectionately.
“hey! I was saving those you little thief!”
“Don’t worry darling, I’ll pay you back when this war is over!” She grinned enigmatically.
There was a ripple of affectionate amusement around the fire as the men witnessed the lover’s cameo.
The healer caught Drustina’s knowing grin and smiled with amusement. The little bit of meat she had consumed would be returned a million fold when it was Drustina’s turn to pay her lover back. The joke of course passed straight over the leader’s heads for they did not yet know of Drustina’s pregnant condition. Not one amongst them had been a father and seen their wives suffer from morning sickness. All were angry, disenfranchised young men ignorant of the course of pregnancy. The healer took it upon herself to grab some food and deliver it to the pre-occupied lovers as they wrestled playfully for the remaining titbit. Torvel was laughing uproariously as Drustina squealed with delight as he tickled her in full view of all the men.
“Now, now, settle down you two. There’s a war to be won!” the healer admonished the pair like an affectionate mother.
Morale in the guerrilla camp was high. The raid against the convoy went well. Without the anticipated help from the secret column they thought they had infiltrated into the guerrillas, the convoy escort was easily overwhelmed. Drustina’s suspicions were proved right when the convoy proved to be worthless. The soldiers boxed up in the canyon were given an option. Fight and die or surrender and return to their homes. Many chose to join the guerrillas but they were not to be wholly trusted until the final crash of the final battle.
The following morning there was a buzz in the guerrilla camp. Magab and Aiofe had arrived to discuss tactics and Drustina explained to her beloved sister.
“If you want us to make an effective attack on the land army’s rear we’ll need archers and plenty of them. We have no heavily armoured knights.”
Magab interrupted.
“For that I apologise dear comrades. They will not lower themselves to join common guerrillas and fight a dirty war. It’s all about status and nobility with these Templar knights.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Drustina charged the assembled men. “That Templar commander was all about rank and station before he realised who I was.”
Magab turned and nodded as he confessed agreement
“The maid is right my comrades, but we cannot deny their courage and their usefulness. They have proven to be invaluable in holding off the massed attacks of Mutas’s heavy troops.”
“So when and where?” the Carthaginian guerrilla leader pressed his King.
“Within a week, can you be ready by then?”
“We’re ready now,” Eric replied. “A week will give us plenty of time to re-equip and re-supply. When will these archers arrive?”
“They follow in five days. I know your rebel camp cannot support a regiment of idle archers for a week and they can only carry two or three day’s food.”
“Well send their leaders earlier,” Torvel advised, “we will need to organise tactics and co-ordination. We do not normally make fixed stands; our tactics are hit and run. In fact the best tactic is for the archers to wait in ambush while we go in, provoke a fight, then entice a whole regiment of pursuers into the archer’s trap. We can do that on a bigger scale if we mass our forces then spread the attack out over a broader front. We are two thousand strong now, a respectable force.”
“My thoughts entirely!” Aiofe agreed as she turned to Magab. “See. These men are good strategists. The plan will work.”
“But only once or twice,” Drustina cautioned. “They will certainly not fall into the trap after a second mistake and more probably after only one attack.”
Aiofe smiled and continued, “Provided they are beaten their morale will weaken and dissension will increase in their camp. Yesterday our navy under Carl landed a small force to the west of the palisade under darkness. They captured a useful promontory of high rocky ground that can be supplied from the sea just like our main beach-head. It is easily defendable and now we have engines firing down into the land army encampment all day and all night long. They are trapped in an ever-tightening noose.
Now Mutas’s army has to attack and neutralise the promontory before he can re-attack our defences.”
Drustina was beginning to see Aiofe’s idea.
“So if our forces are within striking distance we attack when ...” Drustina turned questioningly to Aiofe.
“When Mutas’s army tries to recover Carl’s promontory,” Aiofe finished with a beaming smile.
Magab added: “When their army attacks Carl, he will fire signal arrows to the ships and they will form a communication line over the water directly to you. When you see the ship’s repeating the signal arrows, you attack the rear of the land army and we sally forth from our beach head. That’s just the sort of fighting the Templar knights are best at. We will have Mutas’s army fighting unexpectedly on three fronts.”
Drustina turned to the Carthaginia rebel commander who nodded approvingly as he added: “Surprise and force, the guerrilla’s dream! Sounds like a plan.”
The leaders then spent the remains of the day organising supplies and communication. Magab decided to spend the night in the guerrilla camp with Aiofe away from the censorious eyes of the priests and courtiers. That night as the men sat around the camp fire, Drustina had a rare chance to chat with her older sister Aiofe. As they walked in the darkness along the beach, Aiofe’s guardsmen kept a discreet distance while the sisters savoured the solitude to just chat and reminisce.
“So what are your plans when this business is over little sister?” Aiofe asked.
Drustina smiled and wrapped her hand around her sister’s waist as she hugged her tight.
“I like that, ‘little sister’, d’you remember when I was your little brother?”
Aiofe leaned up to her now taller, younger sibling and kissed her cheek.
“You’re still my little brother as well - but I like my little sister better.”
“Thanks,” Drustina choked with nervous, tearful happiness.
Aiofe immediately caught her mood and turned to demand an answer.
“What’s wrong sister. Are you afraid of the coming battle? Has the maid Drustina finally defeated my tempestuous brother? You don’t have to fight dear sister; nobody will condemn a maid such as you for forsaking war. You courage is legendary and nobody knows it better than I.”
Drustina burst into loud, sobbing tears and even the nearby guards paused uncertainly but Aiofe shooed them away. ‘This was obviously girl stuff!’ She led her sister to a small rocky mound and sat her down.
“What is it sister? I’ve never seen you afraid before.”
Drustina sat with her shoulders heaving for long minutes as Aiofe hugged her and squeezed her tight to reassure her. Eventually Drustina recovered herself.
“Promise me you won’t tell anybody!” she whispered fervently.
“Tell them what sister? If I don’t know I cannot tell them can I?”
Drustina stared at the rippling moonlit wavelets as they reflected Damara’s light.
‘It was an apt image,’ Drustina mused, ‘if Damara had stopped her calls at least she was lighting the way forward.’
Eventually she felt compelled to reveal her secret. She was both excited and frightened and being as a trouble shared was halved while a joy shared was doubled, she felt she had to tell somebody. At least her older sister was a trusted friend and comrade. ‘If anybody would help her, surely Aiofe would!’
She turned to Aiofe, squeezed her even tighter and stared into her older sister’s eyes.
“You must never, never tell anybody!”
“Tell them what sister? What is it that frightens you even more than death?”
Drustina turned and looked up at Damara’s pale gibbous face before returning to stare into Aiofe’s concerned face. She answered with one word.
“Birth!”
For a moment Aiofe sat puzzled before the meaning finally sneaked into her consciousness. When she finally grasped the portent of Drustina’s answer she gasped with shock!
“Oh by the Goddess Damara. She has visited you. She has even blessed you!”
Drustan couldn’t suppress an ironic smile as she riposted.
“It wasn’t the goddess Damara dear sister; it was that horny bloody bastard Torvel!”
“Oh shit. What are you going to do?”
“Have a bloody baby sister, that’s what I’m going to do!”
“Are you sure? I mean, you’re part man - are you saying you have it all?”
Drustina sighed and sagged with a sense of defeat as she replied sardonically.
“Oh truly dear sister I have it! I have it bloody all! Tits, cock, balls, slit, womb, and now even a bloody baby!”
Aiofe couldn’t suppress a little giggle and Drustina snapped at her irritably.
“It’s not bloody funny sister. The healer doesn’t even know if I can deliver. She says I look as if I’ve got all the right parts but she cannot see inside of me, where the thing grows. They might have to cut me open and then I’ll most certainly die. This is no joke; it could be a slow sentence of death!”
“If it can get in, it can get out,” Aiofe tried to comfort her.
“It was a bit of Torvel’s cum getting in; it’ll be a bloody sight bigger trying to get out. The healer’s explained everything. I didn’t realise being a woman was such a bloody dangerous life. I just hope by all the goddesses that I am as other women where it matters.”
She started crying again and Aiofe could only hug her younger sister as they sat huddled together on the rock for a solid hour. During that time one of Aiofe’s personal guards became restless and asked if everything was okay. Aiofe shooed him away irritably but the guard had not failed to notice the tears of their heroine. When the sisters returned to the camp the rumour mill soon started and by mid morning Torvel had heard that something was amiss. Having gone to bed late after walking on the beach in the moonlight, Drustina did not rise until noon. She was having another bout of morning sickness as Torvel approached her.
“Is everything alright sister? This illness persists I see.”
“Fuck off!” she snapped as her stomach heaved violently.
Torvel crept away baffled by his lover’s anger. Unsure of what was afoot, he went to see the healer himself. His questions put her in a corner for she was sworn to secrecy by Drustina. After some vague replies about women problems being complicated by Drustina’s duality, (which was true) Torvel had to leave little the wiser. Nevertheless he was worried about his companion and resolved next time he was at Walezia’s beach-head he would consult the King’s physician. Fortunately for Drustina’s plans to re-instate Magab this was not to happen until after the battle and he learned of Drustina’s condition before the siege was over.
The following night just before the dawn, Mutas’s land army launched an attack against Carl’s encampment on the rock promontory. The secret signal arrows, (three green arrows) were shot high into the sky and the message was passed to the guerrillas within minutes. The guerrillas attacked within half an hour and they returned the second set of signal arrows, (three red arrows) which alerted the Templar knights to start their sally into Mutas’s land army’s ranks.
Within the hour, Mutas’s army was beset on three sides. The battle was short. The fight was most bloody at the palisade where the Templar knights attacked the main bulk of Mutas’s heavy troops but Mutas could not lead his army, he was cooped up in the fortress city of Carthage. From the far battlements he could only rage and fume at the fight being waged as slowly Magab gained the advantage and put the bulk of the traitors who had betrayed his father to the sword. Of the surviving ordinary soldiers, each were marked with a sword cut to the forehead to mark them forever as untrustworthy.
When the accounting was over, Drustina finally managed to extricate herself from the frenzy of celebrations to seek out her sister Aiofe. As Aiofe sat in her fiancé’s tent her younger sister finally appeared during the night limping slightly but obviously content with her part. Aiofe studied her and sighed.
“What! Wounded again girl?”
Drustina grinned.
“No big sis’, well not much. My own horse stood on my foot as I was getting down after the battle was over, I didn’t realise poor Seripatese had an arrow in her rear leg. She’s a game little filly, I don’t know what I’d do without her. It’s good job she’s a Camargue mare, small and light. If she’d been one of those bloody, great war horses she’d have broken my foot. I’ve been getting her seen to, I’d hate to lose her.”
“Well she’s been with you since Appotel gifted her to you when we first arrived in his kingdom. You’re lucky she’s such a game little companion, most horses are hopeless travellers and won’t go near a ship.”
“You don’t have to tell me. She even came with me in the Mermaid during the last raid - normally she’s followed me around in one of the big merchant transport ships. She’s brave and faithful.”
“You don’t have to tell me that Drustina, I saw her when you were up against Portega. Never was there a braver nor cleverer little mare.”
Drustina flung herself down on to one of the comfortable divans that had been brought ashore for Aiofe’s comfort. She lay back, ran her fingers along the rich material and sighed.
“Mmmm. What it’s like to be a queen eh?”
“I’m not a queen yet little sis’ there’s still the business of defeating Mutas in his fortress.”
“Well they can get on with it. It’s just a matter of starving the bastard out. We’ve got him besieged on all sides. I’m going to sit this bit out - just hanging around taking pot-shots at each other. It’s not my style.”
“It might take months to starve him out.”
“Longer the better for me,” Drustina reasoned.
“My God sister, why d’you say that?”
“As long as we’re here on the battlefield I’m Drustina the warrior queen. The priests can’t accuse me of being a witch in front of the men, they won’t stand for it. But as soon as the battle’s over and all our allies go home, those bigots will come out of the woodwork like vermin to attack me. My condition hits at the very foundations of their misogynistic bigotry.”
Aiofe smiled and reached over to stroke her little sister’s battle stained brow.
“You’re safe as long as I’m queen.”
“Am I? Am I? You haven’t seen the hate in those priests eyes. They see all women as temptresses. It’s bad enough being a woman in front of their male god but to be as I am is beyond the pale. They’ll be slavering to burn me and my unborn child at the stake. I’ll be leaving as soon as the siege is over. Back to Malta for me and Walezia’s protection and a long rest. If I ever learn that you have got these religious brutes under control, I’ll come and look you up.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it. ‘Bout time you took a break.”
Drustina sighed and stretched out luxuriously as she winced when she tried to lift her injured foot. She turned to Aiofe.
“As a pampered queen does your tent run to a bath?”
Aiofe grinned. Such a request truly revealed Drustina’s feminine nature.
“Yes, but only for a girl.”
“Well I’m not cutting my cock and balls off just to bathe!” Drustina giggled. “ Arina says she wants my baby.”
Aiofe grinned and ordered a maid to prepare a bath before turning back to her sister.
“Listen little one, there’s no further proof of your womanhood than that thing growing in your belly. You will be a mother long before me.”
“Aye and probably condemned for it. These priest won’t recognise a child unless it’s parents go through some sort of religious thing. I’ll be glad to be away from their pernicious influences.”
Aiofe fell silent. She knew that the new one god priests seem to have more sway in Carthaginia and Magab’s time would be spent repairing the obvious damage. She had also watched the pernicious tactics employed by these priests once they got a ‘toe-hold’ in a society. They used fear and superstition to turn every opportunity to their advantage. A famine, an earthquake, a flood - just about anything disastrous could be accrued to the angry mood of this all pervading omnipotent one god, whilst every benefit could be accorded to his good will as well. The whole concept was subversive to reason and tolerance!
If the God was deemed happy it was thanks to the priests and their prayers, if the God was deemed angry, blame the blasphemers, the unbelievers.
In Malta Walezia was much more secure on his throne but Walezia had reigned for over twenty years. Furthermore he was a member of this Christ thing so the priests had no hold over his secular authority. Provided they didn’t impinge on his temporal powers he could turn a blind eye to their spiritual aspirations. The problem was would even Walezia have the power and security of position to offend these scheming bishops when they moved to destroy anything they saw as a threat to their ever increasing power, and her sister’s sexual duality was definitely seen as a threat. Her very being was whispered to be a blasphemy even in the siege camp where Drustina’s record of bravery and leadership was second to none. The bishop’s campaign was an insidious development but an effective one. Drustina was in mortal danger and so was her unborn child.
The siege lasted into the summer, Mutas had prepared well. Food stocks were high and the well inside the old palace had been deepened to tap into a deep sub-sea spring of fresh water. So even though the fortress was on a peninsular there was a plentiful supply of water from some deep Saharan aquifer.
It was in June that Torvel finally took notice of Drustina’s swelling belly. Carl and Eric, both older men, had noticed the growing bump and pointed it out to him.
“Go and ask her man, I tell you she’s with child!” Carl advised him bluntly.
Torvel confessed nervously.
“I’m a bit afraid to, she’s been very off with me these past few months, and I’m beginning to think she only functions as a warrior queen when she’s got some sort of battle or war in hand.”
“She still sleeps with you doesn’t she?” Eric asked.
“Well, yes, but there’s nothing like it was during the battles and the guerrilla campaign. It’s as though she’s bored with the siege and the waiting just seems to be getting her down. She just turns her back on me and snaps at me if I try anything.”
Eric and Carl grinned at each other as they chorused in perfect union.
“She’s pregnant!”
“Should I ask her?” Torvel wondered aloud.
“By the gods man are you a man or a rabbit?”
Torvel finally conceded that his Saxon friends might have a point. He turned uncertainly then plodded towards Aiofe’s tent where Drustina was having a bath.
“Get out!” she screamed.
“I only want to talk you my love.”
“What about?”
“Not out here. In private.”
“Wait a minute!”
She invited him in after she had wrapped herself in a large cotton towel that resembled a Roman Toga. Torvel slipped between the flaps and stood smiling at her. She stared at him nervously and shifted uncomfortable to change her aspect and try to disguise the lump. Torvel wagged his head and smiled.
“Is it me, or are you getting fatter?”
“What d’you mean? I’m not fat!! How dare you!”
“If you’re not fat then what’s that lump in your belly. Have you swallowed the dinner for the whole camp or something?”
“No!”
“Then can you explain that bump?”
Drustina glared at him then burst into tears, as she slumped onto her chair.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes, now!” Torvel replied, “But I was too ignorant and inexperienced to recognise your condition. It was Eric and Carl who enlightened me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Drustina looked up tearfully.
“I’m with child - your child!”
Torvel had already worked this out after Eric and Carl’s instruction but he was still overwhelmed by the news. He dropped to his knees at her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist as he pressed his cheek against her belly. To their combined shock, Drustina felt a little foot kick in protest against the pressure of Torvel’s cheek. Naturally Torvel felt it as well and he gave a squeal of delight as Drustina gasped with surprise.
“Did you feel that?” Drustina squealed in response to Torvel’s excitement.
“Yes! He quickens!” Torvel cried as he placed his hand where his cheek had lain.
“That’s the first time I’ve felt it!” Drustina admitted with mounting excitement as she squeezed her hand under Torvel’s hammy paw.
The two fell silent in expectation and were rewarded by another kick at which they shrieked with joy. Their excited cries brought both Saxons and the healer dashing into their tent.
“He kicks! He quickens!” Torvel announced to anybody within earshot.
The healer immediately placed her hand on Drustina’s ‘bump’ and smiled.
“That’s a healthy kick mistress. You’ve a healthy child in there. Have you thought of a name?”
Drustina fell silent. In her culture it was deemed a risky business to discuss names for an unborn child, firstly because one could never be sure of the child’s sex and secondly it was considered discourteous to the gods to choose a name before the gods had given the newborn child life and character. She wagged her head and remained silent as Torvel glared at the healer.
“Hush your tongue woman, the child must be born first before names are discussed!”
The healer had the wit to respect other cultures for whilst being of the new faith she had humanity enough to still respect the old religions. She smiled, patted Drustina’s ‘bump’ affectionately and nodded her head with satisfaction. So far Drustina seemed to be progressing well and everything appeared to following the proper course.
Later that night Drustina was particularly affectionate and ‘kittenish’ with Torvel even allowing him to very gently ‘use’ her. When she orgasmed, her child kicked furiously and she giggled as she spooned even tighter. Torvel was delighted that ‘normal relations’ seemed to have been resumed but Drustina whispered to him as she snuggled in his arms.
“There won’t be many more of those until after he’s born. I felt you pressing my womb.”
Torvel kissed her and reassured her: “I understand darling. We neither of us wish to hurt him.”
Drustina fell asleep in his arms whilst wondering ‘boy or girl’ and what would Torvel want? She decided to speak to him in the morning.
In this chapter Drustina is delivered of her babies and troubles with the Bishop start to come to a head.
The Angry Mermaid 22.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 22.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal Bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
The clamour in the camp alerted both Drustina and Torvel as Carl called from outside their tent.
“There’s movement from the fortified city, come quickly!”
Torvel was up immediately and struggling into his britches. Drustina needed to lie abed at least until the wretched vomiting had ceased. She knew it would come, shortly after rising. Torvel called through the heavy material to Carl.
“What’s happening?”
“There is an emissary from the gates. Mutas seems to want to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about surely, he murdered his own father,” Torvel charged.
“Apparently Magab is agreeable to talk, if only to save more bloodshed. There are women and children starving in the city.”
“And I suppose the tyrant still feeds well while the people go hungry. Tell him to come out and fight. Fight like a man and prove his suitability to rule,” Drustina shouted back as the first wretched convulsion heaved through her stomach.
Torvel turned to her and cautioned her.
“Take care darling. Mutas is a skilled warrior. Magab has confessed to me that Mutas would better him in single combat. The problem is Mutas is exactly like Portega was; a cruel tyrant!”
“Alright then tell him to let the women and children come out. He is only holding them hostage because he knows Magab is too soft, too compassionate. You heard it yourself, Magab wants to avoid bloodshed.”
Torvel frowned.
“Don’t we all Drustina? Would you like it if you and your child was starving behind those gates?”
“I’d find some way out.”
“You might have done in the past but soon you will have a child to think about, a life to protect and nurture until he can fend for himself. Besides, in your present state with that lump in your belly, would you be active enough to escape?”
Drustina fell silent. The ‘bump’ was beginning to hamper her freedom. Only the other morning she had casually jumped up to mount her beloved Seripatese and found the ‘bump’ had foiled her leap. She had fetched up heavily against Seripatese’s flank but the faithful mare had simply absorbed her failed leap and turned her head to nuzzle the winded Drustina’s swollen belly.
Fortunately nobody had seen the comedy act and Drustina’s dignity remained intact as she gently recovered her wind and instructed her equine companion to kneel while she slid a leg over and the little mare gently rose to her feet. Despite Torvel’s caution Drustina refused to be inconvenienced by her ‘bump’ - well not yet anyway.
“I’m not a bloody invalid yet partner. I’ll let you know when I’m too fat to fight.”
Torvel had learned Aiofe’s lesson when dealing with Drustina - don’t even try to use argument as persuasion. He frowned and slipped outside the tent while Drustina resumed heaving into the now seemingly permanent bedside bowl. Torvel was sat around the breakfast, council fire discussing Mutas’s terms when she finally appeared at his side. She had the grace and sense to listen as she piled the food onto her plate.
Eric studied the pile and smiled.
“Eating for two now my lady!”
Drustina blushed and smiled; an act that caused all the men’s hearts to soften. A year ago a remark like that might have brought the wild boy’s sword to your throat if he had taken it as a criticism of his diet. Now the maid simply smiled and nodded as she ate deep of the communal pot.
As she chewed silently, Magab explained the terms.
“He wants safe passage to a country that will offer him refuge and he wants monies enough to keep him as a prince should be kept once he arrives there.”
“Huh. What country will have him?” Carl demanded.
Magab turned to answer.
“There are many princelings and princedoms now the Roman rule has faltered. He has probably had a bolt hole in mind ever since he murdered our father.”
“I say make him let the women and children go free then he can face us in honest battle,” the Templar Commander suggested.
“He holds them hostage sir. I’ll not see my own subjects starved to death just to satisfy our rightful blood-lust. There are over a thousand of them behind those walls.”
“Shall we take a vote on it?” Torvel asked, for the talks had virtually reached an impasse.
A vote seemed to be the general consensus and to demonstrate the openness and honesty of the council, each leader cast his vote openly. The count ended as a draw, four for letting Mutas flee and four against. Magab sighed.
“We are no further forward.”
At this Drustina spoke up.
“One moment gentlemen, am I to be denied my vote? Did I not partake in this war like you all?”
There was a confused murmuring. Eric, Torvel, Carl and Magab had voted to let the butcher go. They had seen enough bloodshed and fighting to last them a lifetime. The Templar Commander, King Walezia, the Carthaginian Guerrilla leader and the Carthaginian Master of Horse had voted to maintain the siege. Drustina was surprised that King Walezia had voted to continue the fight, she had put him down for a much more compassionate man. She decided to ask him later when he was less preoccupied with the council. More immediately, she realised she had another fight on her hands, persuading the men that she had a right to cast a vote.
She stood up and looked around the council, her expression daring any to challenge her right. Fortunately she had her sword around her for she rarely attended men’s meetings without it. It was almost her badge of office - proof positive of her right to sit in the council by dint of her achievements in battle. At least none could deny her that! She waited for the slightest murmur of dissent but none came so she boldly announced.
“I Drustina, Slayer of the Viking Jarl Blue Face, defeater of the King Portega and bester of the Admiral Ibn Bin Saar will cast my vote amongst you.”
She paused then added thoughtfully.
“This might be my last vote amongst men for some time for as you can all see, I am heavy with child, Torvel’s child! I will be unable to join with you before very long, already I am clumsy so I will make this my last vote until I am qualified to come among you again in combat.”
She pulled out her now famous sword and held it blade flat across her outstretched arms for effect.
“I, Drustina, vote to let the tyrant go. I do this because I am to be a mother soon, no longer a maid thanks to this man.” She flipped her hand dismissively towards Torvel who grinned as she continued. “I now know what effort is put in by a mother to bring forth life and I will know yet more before the course is run. I admit I am afraid for you all know of my duality and I may well die in childbirth if my woman parts are incomplete and do not permit. If I am to die, then Aiofe is to rear my child, her blood. I vote to let the tyrant go so that all those other mothers who have put so much into bearing their children will at least know that Drustina made it safe for them as it has never been safe for me. Safe to leave and safe to live. That’s my final word. I vote the tyrant goes into exile.”
There was general hubbub of discussion before Walezia took it upon himself to declare the council decided.
“It is decided then gentlemen, and lady - the tyrant is allowed to leave. How many monies is he to take, steal, and thieve from the country?”
“Let me decide that please gentlemen,” Magab pleaded. “It is my country he steals from and my work to put everything right after this mess is over.”
The rest of the council were secretly glad to be absolved of the second responsibility for most were minded to give the tyrant nothing. He was lucky to escape with his life.
That morning’s session of The Council of Carthage was over thanks to a woman’s compassion.
The decision was relayed to Mutas and at noon his banner was struck from the battlements. It was a sign he had agreed to the terms.
The mood in Magab and Walezia’s camp was mixed. All were relieved the fighting was over though most would have preferred to see Mutas punished. These were mainly Carthaginians who had suffered inordinately at Mutas’ hand when friends and relations had been killed by various criminal acts. The Templar Knights, who had seen good and loyal comrades killed in the heavy fighting around the palisades, would also have preferred him punished. By comparison the guerrillas had suffered fairly lightly.
As to Drustina’s situation she wasn’t certain if the men’s feelings towards her were favourable or otherwise. On the one hand they had all seen her exploits during the battles and nobody could question her bravery and leadership. However those who had lost much tended to condemn her for allowing Mutas to escape the consequences of his criminality. In their eyes the maid had been too womanly in her compassion when casting the deciding vote. The usual flash of smiles when she went amongst the men was now tempered with the occasional frown of discontent. Some of the men felt they had paid too high a price to allow Mutas to get off. Drustina sensed that many of the men were against her for being a woman and extending compassion to Mutas’ worthless hide. This new mood of censure towards Drustina was also a consequence of the new Christian teachings that tended to demean women and set men above their partners in life. Sensing the changing mood, Drustina tended to spend more time in her new apartments in the palace that Magab had allotted to her until she decided what she intended to do.
For the time being however, Drustina simply wanted to have her baby and leave a place whose Christian mores were anathema to her. There was no way she would ever accept a lesser status to men, especially men she knew she could easily best with the sword.
While Drustina brooded, the rest of the victors were celebrating their fortunes and preparing for the forthcoming coronation. Magab and Aiofe had chosen such a time to give the citizenry time to recover from the usurper’s predations. Also there was a mood of euphoria abroad as people gave thanks for the defeat of the butcher Mutas. Even Torvel seemed to be swept up in the joy of victory. Mutas had been exiled and preparations for the combined ceremony of wedding and coronation of Aiofe and Magab were well advanced. As the day approached, a heavily pregnant Drustina finally emerged from her chambers and approached her sister reproachfully.
“I thought that I, your only blood relation, would have been invited to have some part in this celebration; after all, did I not finally get you here safely.”
Aiofe’s face darkened with guilt as she confessed to the impasse she faced.
“I cannot allow it little sister, the ceremony is a Christian ceremony. I have had to convert to the new faith to become bride and queen to Magab. That, apparently, is the new law in Carthaginia. Unless you convert to Christianity, you cannot officiate. The Bishop Alviar is even considering banning you from the festivities.”
“By the Gods! Why! I am your sister, am I not?”
“Yes and my dearest friend to boot. But apparently the Bishop believes you must convert though to do that you must declare yourself a man or a woman. Everybody knows of your duality!”
“I am both! You know that!” Drustina protested. “How can I declare one or the other? That’s impossible! I am what I am!”
“But apparently there is no place for monsters in the new order. Those are the Bishop’s words, not mine!”
Drustina’s eyes blazed with rage.
“How dare he call me a monster? I will slice his innards from his fat belly!”
“Well not before the ceremony, sister; that will delay our coronation.”
“Then the moment after! He’ll not insult me like that!”
Aiofe’s blood ran cold. She knew her younger sibling was more than capable of such ferocity. ‘God knows she had seen it enough times.’
Drustina continued angrily.
“How in all the gods can I declare myself one or the other? I carry a child, I cannot be more woman than that but I refuse to relinquish my hard earned status as a proven warrior. Besides, I have a cock and it works! Let this fat hypocrite face me in honest combat.”
“These priests do not fight with the sword, they preach by the word.”
“I’ve heard their word! I’ve read their confounded book. Nowhere does it speak of those who are blessed with both parts!”
“It speaks of abominations,” Aiofe countered.
“It does not describe them. How can men speak of abominations if their book does not specifically describe them?”
“They interpret the words.”
“Yes. To mean anything they want, especially the damned priests. The man is a bigot! Let him sit down with his stupid book and argue with me. I’ll show him for the fool he is. I’ve read that book from leather to leather! There are more contradictions in that book than stones in the wall of this palace. Let him bring his book forth and for nearly every teaching he offers I’ll find a contradiction. He forgets Aiofe, our beloved Grandmother Giana taught us to read and write - Latin and Greek! Go on, bring him on. He may deceive the poor illiterate fools but he cannot fool me! He’ll win no honest arguments with me! He can only win his arguments when the poor bloody victim is bound and manacled and pleading for mercy. The man is a coward and an idiot and his book is full of lies. Even the last words of his prophet are different in every testament. You’d think they’d manage to get that bit right, especially as they must have been there if they were only to bear witness! How can you people be so stupid?”
“I’m not being stupid sister. I am simply being compliant to enable the marriage of Magab and me to go ahead.”
“Yeah, and thus setting women back for generations! And what’s worse, setting the likes of me back forever! He wants me dead or exiled just like Mutas but I’ve committed no crime.”
“You have killed,” Aiofe hazarded.
Drustina snorted with disgust.
“So has everybody else at this wedding including you! We have all killed others in battle; that was no crime. There would be no wedding and no coronation if we hadn’t killed and won.”
“Bishop Alviar did not kill. He can offer absolution.”
“Absolution my arse. If there is guilt from our killings then he is as guilty as the rest of us. He benefited from our actions so if he preaches against our actions he is a bigger hypocrite than any of us! Why do I need absolution? If I enter the halls of the Gods I will need no absolution when they check my deeds.”
“He can intercede on your behalf.”
“Who told you that? Him I suppose. He'd have to say that wouldn't he.”
Aiofe hesitated. Drustina’s arguments were too rational by far. She was using the same cruel logic she had used when assessing risks in battle. Drustina was proving she was no fool! Aiofe finally conceded Drustina’s points but reluctantly admitted that she had to comply with the Christian laws if she wished to marry Magab. Drustina was disgusted by her older sister’s complicity and she turned on her heel. During the rest of the preparations Drustina took to riding out on her beloved mare and spending her days in further study of the stupid Christian book. It irked her that the more she read, the more contradictions she found. One day, as she was returning from a ride, she saw the Bishop Alviar crossing the palace courtyard. He turned at the sound of Seripatese’s hooves clacking on the heavy slab-stones.
“I’d like a word with you!” He called contemptuously.
Drustina turned to face him and he shrank slightly as he fell under her fearless gaze.
“What d’you want?” she asked bluntly; looking down her nose at him from the saddle of her mare.
“I think it’s a question of what you want, you should be looking for salvation.”
“I don’t want anything. I have it all.” Drustina smirked. “I spit on your stupid preaching. Who are you to offer me salvation - salvation from what? Can you make life? Can you make a baby? Can you carry a baby?”
She patted her swollen belly and the Bishop glared at her before spitting venomously, “You are the whore of Babylon! Your child is a bastard.”
Drustina’s eyes flashed with anger as she whipped out her sword with lightening speed. The Bishop hardly saw the lightening fluidity until he felt the razor sharp point pricking his Adam’s apple.
“Lies like that could get your throat split,” Drustina warned him. “I am Torvel’s partner and we need no stupid words or parchments or superstitious incantations to prove our union. The proof is here, inside my belly! Torvel is mine, I am his and we are equal in making this life within me!”
She whipped her sword away with equal speed and urged her beloved Seripatese forward as the Bishop felt his blood first run cold with dread then hot with jealous rage. The man was a misogynist bigot who would one way or another see his revenge.
In their palace chambers, Drustina met Torvel who had just come from the practice yards where some new recruits to the new army were being trained. She related her confrontation with the Bishop and Torvel frowned.
“It would do well not to cross him too much, his power waxes as the people heed his preachings.”
“Huh. Are you afraid of him as well? He’s a bigot and a liar!”
“We both know that darling but I have to warn you again that his power waxes. You know that the Templar Knights are returning to Malta once the new army is up to scratch?”
“Yes. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well you know the Bishop gets his temporal support from the Templar Knights. They are sworn to uphold this newfangled faith against all-comers.”
“So! They are our friends; we have stood beside them in battle. The Templar Commander and I are good friends now. The Templars would never harm me.”
“Not quite my angel. We have only stood alongside the Maltese Templars in battle. The soldiers replacing them are coming from an Island called Cypru at the eastern end of this middle sea. They know nothing of your conquests and your service. Their loyalties will be entirely with the Bishop. He comes from Cypru as well.”
“Are you saying that these soldiers might do as the Bishop wills?”
“I don’t know.” Torvel confessed. “The Maltese Commander has warned Eric, Carl and me that things might not always be so open and easy for us in the future.”
“But what about Magab and his Queen Aiofe, she’s my sister. They wouldn’t dare harm the Queen’s sister.”
“You sister is converting to this new faith, she has to if she is to marry Magab. The Bishop wields huge power over the worshippers of this three in one god thing.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. Why don’t they just have three gods and be done with it? Anyway, if I worshipped just one god it would be entirely between her and me. No stupid male interlocutor to speak on my behalf. How would that stupid man know what is in my heart - a woman’s heart? Men don’t have to carry these!”
She patted her bump affectionately and Torvel smiled. They hugged each other gently as Drustina cried softly.
“You will stand by me if that butcher tries to harm my baby won’t you?”
Torvel hugged her tight. It was the first time he had sensed Drustina’s fear.
“He’s my baby as well Dru! You know I would die for him and you!”
A few months later the four northerners stood on the quay watching the Maltese Templars embarking for their home island. Drustina leaned heavily on Torvel’s arm for her belly was now heavily swollen and she was near her time. She was pretty clumsy because of her large bump. Carl and Eric seemed thoughtful as they stared across the harbour to see the Cypru Templars disembarking on the far quay. Drustina followed their gaze and read their thoughts.
“Problems ahead comrades?” she asked the pair.
They both nodded as Carl frowned and answered. “I think so. See that fucking madman Bishop Alviar is already fawning and slavering with their commander. He hasn’t even come over to pay his respects to his colleague the Maltese Commander. You’d think that at least as men at arms in the same army, they would have respect for each other. I don’t like it Drustina. I fear for those of the old beliefs.”
“Don’t we all; you and me and Eric and Torvel,” Drustina finished his thoughts for him.
Carl nodded and they said their farewells to their Templar comrades as the last Maltese ship prepared to cast off. They watched with professional interest as the wind filled its sails and the ship slipped smoothly away from the quay. After a final wave, Eric turned to the others.
“We’d best go and make ourselves known to this new commander.”
They walked slowly around the quay wall towards the Cypru disembarkation and they stopped frequently to let Drustina recover her composure. She grinned gamefully but all three men could see their erstwhile companion was heavily burdened by her precious cargo. Finally they reached the landing point only to find their way blocked by some men at arms bearing the uniforms and tabards of the new soldiers.
“We will speak with the new Templar Commander,” Carl declared boldly.
“You will have to wait here. He is busy with the Bishop Alviar.”
Carl was about to draw his sword but Eric restrained him.
“Patience comrade, let’s not start on the wrong foot. I have a better strategy.”
“That is?” Carl wondered aloud.
“We attend upon Magab and when the new commander comes to present his credentials we will meet him as the King’s personal retinue - which we are I might remind you.”
Carl nodded and Drustina agreed. Eric was showing eminent good sense. Torvel took his hand from his sword to signal his agreement and glared meaningfully at the soldiers lined across the quay.
“They will soon know their place!” he reminded the others.
They left for the King’s apartments where Drustina met with her sister Aiofe. She was sharing a morning fruit juice with Arina and they both smiled joyfully as Drustina plodded into their apartments. She asked if Eric, Carl and Torvel could join them and Aiofe readily agreed.
“Where’s Magab?” Drustina asked.
“Busy in council with the newly elected representatives of the citizen’s committee. My husband has taken a leaf from Walezia’s book and chosen to form a citizen’s council for advice and information.”
“Anybody we know sitting upon it?” Torvel ventured.
“Oh yes, the two older commanders from the guerrilla campaign and several of our old fifth column comrades from the campaign. The people are pleased with the way the guerrillas treated them during the struggles and when they stood for election, they won by a mile. Also several more of the ordinary citizens from Magab’s sixth column have been elected by their townships when they learned of their part in the campaign. There are about twelve of our old comrades sitting on the council.”
“Sounds like a Scandinavian Allthing,” Carl observed.
“Precisely,” Aiofe agreed. “He’ll be coming out of council for lunch. What brings you here outside of the normal morning meeting?”
“Oh just a few issues we seem to be having with the Bishop’s retainers; those new Templar knights from Cypru,” Eric declared. “They don’t seem to realise who we are.”
Aiofe frowned. Already she had been hearing unsettling stuff about the new knights. As the men were settling to share a pitcher of beer, they noticed Drustina struggling to get comfortable. Torvel was at her side immediately.
“Are you alright love?” he asked.
“No!” Drustina gasped. “I think I … oww! Oh hell what was that? My belly!”
Aiofe gaped at her sister and suddenly realised what was afoot.
“Go and get the healers,” Aiofe turned to Arina. “Drustina’s time has come!”
Arina was on her feet in an instant and dashing through the palace corridors while the three comrades were all attendance upon their beloved heroine. Aiofe had them lift her onto a divan and Drustina gasped with fear. She was now realising her time was imminent. Now came the big test, was her body sufficiently a woman’s to complete what had started? She reached up to grip Torvel’s hand in pure terror.
“I’m afraid my lovely. I pray I will not fail you. If I’m to die, promise me you’ll look after my child if he survives me.”
Torvel’s eyes widened with shock as he finally realised the true test was upon them. He turned to Carl and Eric who had also realised what was now afoot.
They made her comfortable upon the wide divan and waited nervously until the healer arrived. They waited a long time as Drustina’s pains got closer together.
“Where is the damned woman when you want her? She knows she has been retained at the palace specifically for this event!” Aiofe cursed. “Guards! Go and see what detains them!”
One of the sergeant guardsmen dashed off in search of Arina only to find her arguing furiously with the Bishop Alviar.
“Don’t you bloody tell me where I can and cannot go!”
“These are the new quarters for the Cypru Templars. It would be unseemly for a maid to be seen entering them unescorted!”
“Listen Bishop! I have crossed this courtyard a hundred times a day. I am a member of the royal household god-damn you! I seek the healer.”
“I have sent her to attend on two of the Cypru Templars. They have been sick all the way across the sea.”
“Well you’d better bring her back. She is needed in the royal chambers. What authority have you to order the Queen’s own physician about?”
The Bishop was about to remonstrate further when the sergeant of the guard arrived. Arina turned to him and enlightened him.
“She is down on the quay with the soldiers, can you go and fetch her?”
The Bishop interfered again. “The sergeant will not be allowed to enter the encampment. I will have to give him a written passport.”
Arina gaped stupidly and even the battle tested young sergeant looked shocked. He had won his early promotion through courage in the battles and he held his rank dear. He remonstrated immediately with the Bishop.
“I am one of the Praetorian Guard holy man! I go wherever the King or the Queen directs. I have been told to find Arina and return with the healer. No man stops me from going anywhere in this kingdom without recourse to the sword. Do you wish the sword in your gizzard?”
As he spoke he drew his sword and the Bishop paled. It seemed that not all the people were yet in awe of his holy powers. This guardsman had obviously got his own ideas of who was in charge. The Bishop’s megalomania had blinkered him to the fact that the new palace guards were utterly loyal to Magab and to their comrades in arms, namely Eric, Carl, Torvel and Drustina.
To avoid any further problems of ‘authority’, the guard called to four patrolling guardsmen and ordered them to accompany him and the Bishop down to the quay whilst Arina dashed back to explain the delay.
When Aiofe heard of the situation, she despatched a senior cavalry officer to hurry on horseback down to the quay where the Cypru Knights had finished disembarkation, and bring the healer back astride his horse. The officer met with the Sergeant and the Bishop arriving just as he was collecting the lady healer and mounting her onto his horse. He told the sergeant to return the Bishop back to the palace where the King Magab would deal with the Bishop’s presumption of temporal powers. Then he trotted off with Ethelia the healer back to Aiofe’s chambers.
When the healer arrived, Drustina was already in the throes of ten minute contractions. Her parturition was proceeding quickly but painfully. Drustina was screaming with pain and fear. Aiofe, Arina and the ladies in waiting were all trying to ease her strictures and all were young inexperienced women who had never witnessed childbirth. It pained them and frightened them all as Drustina screamed and cursed her partner Torvel. The three brave warriors had tactfully withdrawn when Drustina had started cursing Torvel for having his pleasures with her. A wave of relief entered the room with the healer and she quickly got down to business. An inspection reassured the healer that the man/woman was properly equipped to complete the parturition. She smiled thankfully and slid her instruments out of sight before reassuring Drustina that things were going well. Next, she smiled at Aiofe and whispered, “Your sister is all woman where it counts. She will bear normally if very painfully.”
“Is it always this way healer?” Aiofe asked as fear made her own whispered question hoarse. “The screaming and the pain?”
“I’m afraid so my lady. Even a queen is a sister to the lowest drudge when childbirth is upon her. We are all to suffer pain.”
“She seems calmer now; she’s stopped that awful screaming.”
“I have given her some herbs to help with the pain though I think her learning she was going to bear her child normally has comforted her greatly. I think her screaming was her fear of dying without ever seeing her child.”
“Will you stop fucking talking about me as though I wasn’t here!” Drustina swore angrily.
The healer excused herself from Aiofe’s company and returned between Drustina’s legs. She looked up and gave encouragement.
“You’re progressing well girl. You’ll soon be a woman!”
“Is this what it takes?” Drustina squealed. “Is this what it fucking takes? Oww!”
There was a sudden flush of fluids and Drustina stared fearfully.
“What the fuck is that? Am I bloody leaking or something?”
“No no my child. Your waters are burst, your child is coming!”
Aiofe and Arina watched with enrapture as Drustina squealed and cursed alternately. Then they gasped with surprise as a tiny crown started to appear from the opening behind Drustina’s cock and balls. The healer was all efficiency as she encouraged Drustina to keep pushing until eventually the baby emerged and let out a high pitched wail after the healer cleared its mouth. Then, knowing of Drustina’s spectacularly obvious duality, the healer spent several minutes checking the baby’s form and shape. Finally she declared.
“A healthy baby daughter my lady!”
Drustina smiled tearfully as relief overcame her. She had delivered, she was alive, the baby was safe and seemingly properly formed. Drustina had not passed on her terrible curse.
Drustina started to cry with relief then her belly contracted again and she gave another scream. The healer was all attention and immediately settled between Drustina’s legs.
“By God my lady, your daughter has a twin! Push girl, have you the strength to push?”
For an answer Drustina hooked her leg sharply against the healers shoulder and cursed.
“Is that strength enough?”
The healer grinned, she liked a fighter and if nothing else this mother was a fighter.
“Then push my lady, just as hard as you did with the first.”
Drustina needed no encouragement. Having now learned that she was fully ‘as other women’ when it came to that most vital function, she was prepared to undergo the pain one more time. She cursed and pushed alternately until the second head appeared and the healer was once again all efficiency. A prolonged inspection followed the twin’s first bellow and the healer finally confirmed.
“He’s a son my lady, and a lusty pair of lungs. He is seemingly properly formed as well.”
“Are you sure?” Drustina begged. “Please check again, see if there are any - you know - wounds behind his manhood.”
The healer held the baby up and spread his legs gently to allow Drustina a clear view. Drustina stared then gently pushed her finger into her newborn son’s crotch and sighed. There were definitely no other ‘openings’! Her son screamed at the affront and all the women smiled; though none as much as Drustina.
“Thank the gods and goddesses for that!” Drustina grinned and sagged with relief. “No more the curse it seems,” she whispered as fatigue overcame her. The healer helped her with the final shedding of the two placentas and Drustina fell asleep, while Arina and Aiofe savoured the delight of nursing the newborns in their arms as the news spread like wildfire.
“It’s twins!” The message was shouted across the palace courtyard. The call was soon relayed from the battlements, “Twins!” Through the town square; Twins, Twins! Twins! In nearly every quarter there was rejoicing except one, Bishop Alviar’s apartments.
After a couple of hours rest, pressure in Drustina’s swollen breasts woke her. She stirred uncomfortably and hefted her breasts gently before realising she was leaking. She gave a squeak of surprise that alerted the healer to her return.
“By the gods! Healer look! I’ve started milking! — I’m a bloody cow!
“Well what did you expect woman, you’re a mother now. Your body is only doing what mother’s bodies do.”
Drustina looked around the empty room and frowned.
“Where are they?”
“They’re down in the parlour room. Torvel, Aiofe and Arina are showing them off. The whole palace retinue is gathered!”
“Well get them back. They must be hungry.”
“No sooner said than done my girl. I was on my way the moment you woke; and while I’m away don’t go stealing any of that milk for yourself. The first milk is important for your babies. I don’t know why but babies who have their mother’s first milk seem to thrive in later childhood.”
“What d’you mean steal it? It’s my milk! It’s from my own body.”
“It may be from your body young lady but it’s not yours. It belongs to your children. That’s the meaning of motherhood. The words are sacrifice and giving all! I’ve warned you now. That first milk is vital to your babies!”
Drustina pouted and fingered the sticky yellow discharge as the healer went to fetch the babies. Despite the healer’s words, she couldn’t resist a little taster and her eyes widened with surprise. It was quite sweet!
She was making herself comfortable and re-arranging the pillows around her when the commotion in the passage alerted her to the return and she smiled expectantly for she was being re-united with her babies. The smile turned to a huge grin of proud accomplishment when Torvel appeared with both babies in his arms. He sat gingerly on the wide divan and carefully proffered both babies with unusual diplomacy. Aiofe and Arina grinned for they had dressed the babies identically and Drustina had no way of knowing which was boy or girl. She looked at them and smiled with gratitude as the audience was gathering - there could be no accusations of preference to boy or girl.
She took the one in her right arm first and gently latched it onto her breast as the healer had explained then she invited Torvel to help her with the second. Torvel reached forward but the healer stepped in.
“One at a time dear lady. The baby will not feel secure with just one arm supporting it.”
“But how will I know they are receiving equal shares?” Drustina protested.
“One to each breast!” the healer expostulated with amusement. “God girl! Can you not work it out?”
Drustina suddenly felt very stupid and giggled with embarrassment. Then she settled back on the pillows and savoured the first ever act of real ‘giving’ she had ever experienced. Half way through the experience she adjusted her legs discreetly. The pleasant sensations were making her horny and she was embarrassed by the incongruent stirrings between her legs. She pulled up her knees to hide the telltale lump that might have drawn some unsavoury comments from her audience.
Eventually her breast ran dry and she put the other infant on the other breast as Torvel took the first fed infant from her arms. The continued pleasant sensations almost brought her to orgasm and she felt quite alarmed as she squeezed her maleness to obstruct its unruly behaviour. Finally, she completed her first feeding session and lay back contentedly. Torvel hugged her and kissed her then with a child on each side, she joined them in sleep.
‘A mother and feeder at last!’ Was her last waking thought.
The healer ushered all observers from the room explaining that first mothers tired easily. All the other women were young and none of them had yet given birth so there was no-one there to contradict her. In truth, mothers in their second or subsequent births were usually much more tired. Older children were very demanding!
For the rest of the palace, the novelty of Drustina’s newborns soon wore off and Drustina soon discovered the demands of motherhood. Even with waiting maids and the healer to help her she found the task all consuming and envied Torvel his continued uninterrupted life. Drustina wanted to get out and about again, riding her beloved Seripatese. She found herself being bored with just sitting around the castle tending her babies all day and she took to going out with the babies amidst the townspeople in the main square. There at least old ladies would go gaga over the pair and other mothers would join her to share experiences. Drustina had found ‘the village pump’! It was now Torvel’s turn to feel jealous and neglected for every time he stopped by their apartments his erstwhile partner was absent.
“I suppose that all you do is yak — yak -- yak all day long.” He moaned.
“Yes,” Drustina protested bluntly. “There’s nobody else to talk to. You’re neglecting me with all these bloody coronation preparations and my sister’s supposed marriage. Why do they have to have such a stupid ceremony anyway? We didn’t!”
Torvel sighed. It was true. Just before he’d come into their apartments, he’d had words with the Bishop that very afternoon. The religious bully had charged that their twins were bastards and not entitled to royal privileges. The Bishop had received a sharp reminder from the tip of Torvel’s sword and he had warned the Bishop that if Drustina had heard him say it, then her sword would have travelled a lot further.
“Just be careful holy man! My wife has not forgiven you for charging her with being a monster.”
“She’s not your wife. You are not wedded!” the Bishop had remonstrated.
“Believe me you stupid oaf. We are better wedded than ever were any of your stupid sheep — your flock — as you so patronisingly describe them! She and I are wedded in the blood of battle. We have ridden and fought side by side for too many battles to let your accusation find substance. Close that stupid mouth and its lies or I’ll close it for you once and for all!”
As a final gesture, Torvel pushed the sword fractionally further and actually nicked the Bishop’s throat. The man let out a scream of terror thus exposing his essential cowardice. Torvel snorted with contempt, sheathed his sword and stalked across the courtyard to his and Drustina’s apartments. There, after she had remonstrated about only having the girls around the village pump for company, Torvel described his argument with the Bishop.
“He’s dangerous, darling,” Torvel warned his partner. “He absolutely detests you because you provide a threat to his hypocritical preaching. The next thing he’ll be trying to have us exiled or something.”
“I don’t think Aiofe would tolerate that, nor the army.”
“He’s poison, darling. Every day I hear different men amongst the Templar Knights make some idle jest about you but those jests add up to poison. Only the other day, one of those idiot called you the Lioness of Carthage and his colleague made some wisecrack about hunting and pride. Then they shut up when the realised I was within earshot.”
“Go on,” Drustina urged.
“Oh it was some crack about Eric, Carl and me being the lions in a pride and you hunting between us for the best sire. They made it sound like some sick joke about feline promiscuity but there was some undercurrent about the twin’s legitimate fatherhood. I didn’t hear the whole conversation.”
Drustina fumed and glanced meaningfully at her sword. Torvel followed her gaze and frowned.
“I understand your hurt and anger darling but these Cypru Knights are not like our old comrades. They have only legend and sagas to judge you. They were not witness to our struggles. Legend and sagas can work both ways for good and bad.”
“Yeah just like their stupid holy book. That’s all legend and saga.” Drustina grumbled. “It works for the priest’s good and the people’s bad. I mean how can any true father knowingly sell his daughter into slavery and yet not sell his son. Yet this wicked book promotes it; it even declares it to be the law! That’s why this evil creature hates women; he’d sell his own grandmother - his own mother even!”
She flung the tome across the room and Torvel left it there as he stepped forward to embrace her. He was shocked to feel her sobbing silently in his arms. Slowly her sobbing eased and she looked up into his eyes.
“You’d never sell our daughter into slavery would you?”
Torvel gasped and stared down at her.
“By the gods Woman. I was a bloody slave myself. You’ve seen the whip scars across my back. Months chained to an oar in a bloody Barbary galley. If you hadn’t freed me with my shipmates Eric and Carl, I would be long dead now. How could you even think such a question? I was born free, you were born free, and our children are free. You hurt me even thinking that!”
The tears returned as Drustina hugged him closer and he stroked her hair as he kissed her eyes to choke off the tears. They hugged for long minutes until finally, Drustina was assured.
Reality brought them back to the present, despite feeding twins, Drustina’s breasts were producing enough milk and she giggled as Torvel felt the damp spreading through his shirt.
“By the Gods girl, our children will never starve, will they?”
They parted reluctantly and Torvel followed her to the nursery where he sat with her as she fed their children. It was obvious to Torvel that the boy who had so bravely and crazily risked his life so many times was gone. The maid, the mother, the nourisher sat before him now, frightened for her children, frightened for her very life.
And every day, the evil Bishop Alviar worked to spread his misogynist bigotry and poison.
It came to a head at the coronation wedding of Magab and Aiofe. The Bishop gave a long sermon that damned about just about everything that was central to Drustina’s life. Even King Magab was embarrassed for his father had been one of the earliest converts to the three god faith. It seemed this bishop who hailed from the island of Cypru, had taken to heart some holy conclusions that had been agreed upon in a place called Actinium. Mutas had murdered the bishop who had converted Magab’s father and invited Bishop Alviar to persuade the pope to appoint him to the see of Carthage during his brutal reign.
Drustina had been forced to sit in a hidden alcove of the church throughout the coronation and listen to the poison without recourse to debate or contention. For that cruel imposition she could not forgive her sister Aiofe for being so weak and submissive,
Several days later, when Drustina went down to the town square with her babies; she noticed a distinct cooling towards her by the other young mothers. The Bishop’s poison was beginning to take effect. After a few days of steady deterioration between the other young mothers she had thought were her friends, Drustina took to carrying her sword again, hidden under her long skirt. Several times she had seen the Cypru Templar knights giving her hard stares as she carried her newborn twins from palace gates to town square.
Eventually she described her fears to Torvel.
“I can feel it. When they were born all the mothers were gaga over the babies but slowly they became more reserved then they became ‘stand-offish’ and now I can distinctly feel the mood changing to condemnation. I’m not bad Torvel. I’m not a monster but he’s spreading evil and lies about me. I heard one girl genuinely claim that I had a scaly tail. I cursed her and offered to show her my arse. I told her the only thing she would find would be a big angry scar and then she said it was the scar where they cut my tail off. I almost ran her through with my sword but that would really finish it. I tell you Torvel it’s becoming dangerous. I want to leave here. I want to go back to Malta. At least Walezia has the guts to keep his priests in check. Magab thinks that reasoning and argument will change their minds but he doesn’t see it. That man is a vicious, bigoted liar and his priests take their guidance from him. The lies are spreading like poison!”
Torvel tried reassuring her that as long as Aiofe was Queen, Drustina was safe.
Sadly it turned out not to be true.
One morning as Drustina was out with two of her few remaining friends (the girls she had rescued at the Cromlech before the struggles began), two Templar knights were walking past and the larger man made some loud derogatory remarks about Drustina’s duality.
It was the final straw. For months Drustina had been suffering the accumulating antagonisms in silence. Dirty looks ... mothers moving away when she arrived, smirks and whisperings as mothers herded their children away when she approached and of course the nasty, audible remarks whenever she came in earshot.
The Templar sergeant’s remarks finally broke through Drustina’s threshold of restraint. She handed her babies to her two friends and marched angrily up to the giant knight.
“You’ll take that back you vermin!”
“Like hell we will, you whore,” the sergeant laughed contemptuously.
Drustina turned to her friends and remarked.
“You heard that, girls, they called the Queen’s sister a whore. They have insulted the Queen.”
Even as she spoke to the girls she heard the telltale whisper of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. As a warrior long attuned to such sounds, Drustina whirled around whilst simultaneously whipping her sword from the scabbard that now lay just one fold under the close of her cape. The sword appeared as if by magic and the abusive Templar knight swallowed fearfully as he found her famous sword just inches from his fat throat.
“You’ll take that back or I’ll slit your fat throat for you and no more poison will issue forth.”
The man cursed but hesitated, then summoned up more courage and he called her a pervert, a monster, and a blasphemy in the eyes of God. His friend tried to caution him but the bully was into his stride. Up until that moment Drustina had used restraint and the bully had taken that to mean fear. He boldly declared that the Bishop believed she should be burned at the stake for witchcraft.
For Drustina, the bully’s accusations were the last straw. Without further warning, she gave a deft flick of her wrist then slipped the sword into the man’s throat and cut his vocal chords. A look of sheer disbelief came to the bully’s face as he tried to speak and no sound issued from his throat. There was some blood but not enough to endanger his life. Drustina had learned the trick from the Barbary pirates after the Iberian wars. Her razor sharp, Toledo blade had done its work well. The man put his hand to his throat and felt disbelievingly at the neat little hole where the razor sharp point of her sword had done its duty. He then tried to raise his sword but felt yet another sharp prick and her blade returned to his throat.
“Try it and you’re a dead man!” Drustina whispered angrily as she continued. “The next one of you bullies to utter lies about me will find his whole head severed from his body. Now leave me alone and go and play at being soldiers. Be thankful you still have your life!”
The sergeant stumbled off in sheer disbelief that a mere maid had brought him so low. In truth the man was a fat overweight bully who had made his advancements by shouting and hectoring. He had never actually been in a battle. Back at the barracks he was forced to sign a report compiled by his commanding officer because the man was an illiterate thug. The event was related mainly by his associate who was physically afraid of the huge bully and therefore lied about the circumstances. Immediately, without leave or authority, the captain of that particular guard set out to ‘avenge’ the assault upon one of his own company of Templar Knights. It was an easy task to find Drustina; she was sat by the well in the town square sharing what remaining companionship she had with a few rare and loyal friends. The two girls from the Cromlech attack and some others who had known of Drustina’s true exploits in the wars to depose Mutas.
The captain and his guard arrived in the square seven strong and immediately made for Drustina sitting nursing her babies under the shade of a large orange tree just aside from the well. Even as she saw them coming, Drustina sensed trouble and quickly deposited her babies in her friend’s care as she prepared to defend herself.
“This looks like trouble. Look after my babies and tell my sister,” she begged as she glanced across the square. “This appears to be the vengeance crew.”
The Cromlech sisters took her infants while one of the other girls slipped away pretending to be afraid when in reality she went dashing to the Palace and Queen Aiofe’s apartments.
The captain of the guard wasted no time in trying to organise Drustina’s arrest but Drustina was already prepared for their abuse. Days before this incident, the deteriorating climate had persuaded her to wear leggings under her dress to enable her to cast aside her skirt in preparation to defend herself. Even as the guard approached with undeserved confidence, Drustina backed herself to the bucket housing at the well to ensure she could not be surrounded and attacked from behind. In one practiced move, her skirt was off and her sword was out. The soldiers grinned salaciously as they sighted the ripe curves under her tight fitting leggings then their grins darkened as she spread her legs in a defensive stance and her blouse rode above her crotch to reveal the unmaidenly bulge of her manhood. The captain ordered his men to take the ‘creature’ and they surged forward expecting an easy fight. After two of their number lay dead and two more stood aside with disabling wounds, they withdrew to re-consider the situation. The captain stared unbelievingly at the carnage beside the well and he bellowed at the maid,
“You are a murdering witch!”
Drustina scorned his offensive remarks and replied, “And you are an illegal butcher. By what authority do you come to take me?”
“You assaulted my sergeant!”
“Who assaulted my dignity... a huge, bully of a man who abuses nursing mothers and even tried to strike me.”
“You lie!”
Drustina shrugged and nodded to her friends attending to her infants.
“They were witnesses. Ask them.”
The captain turned scornfully to study the two sisters from the cromlech incident and the other remaining girls he sneered.
“Of course they would say something like that, they are your friends, and they are known to consort with you every day, here in the square.”
“Consort with me? What d’you mean by that. When did that become a crime?”
“Since the Bishop declared you to be an abomination in the eyes of God.”
Drustina’s eyes flashed with rage.
“Tell him to come and face me with those accusations!”
“The Bishop is a peaceful man. He speaks for the god of peace.”
“And yet sends armed soldiers to arrest a woman, a nursing mother; how peaceful is that? Your Bishop is a bully, a bigot and a coward ... just like you and this rabble of your henchmen!”
“That is blasphemy.”
“It’s the truth - look about you. Where is the peace attached to those two dead men?”
“You killed them!”
“They attacked me, a nursing mother. That’s the truth! I was sitting here peacefully nursing my babies and talking with my true friends in friendship and peace. You come along with swords at the ready and tried to take me when I have committed no crime but to defend myself and my babies.”
“It is a lawful arrest.”
“By what law? King Magab’s law runs here not the word of some brutal holy man.”
“You have broken God’s law. You are a blasphemy ... a monster with two bodies.”
Drustina snorted contemptuously.
“Can’t you count? Two arms, two legs, one head and one body how do you say I have two bodies?”
“You are a monster with two parts, man and woman.”
“And I was made this way. If your crazy God is the supposed creator of all things then he must have created me! If he made me this way he must have had a purpose.”
“You are the spawn of Satan. God does not make mistakes!”
“He made a mistake sending a coward like you to arrest a mere woman with two babies.”
The captain’s eyes flashed with rage but the gleaming, bloody sword, still raised ‘en-garde’ in Drustina’s hand, easily dissuaded him from any further rashness. He ordered his remaining men to accompany him to the Bishop’s apartments to consider the next plan. There were just too many witnesses to the incidents in the square that day. Drustina recovered her babies and went immediately to seek an audience with King Magab, her own brother-in-law.
Where Drustina comes into more serious conflict with the Bishop and his henchmen.
The Angry Mermaid 23
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 23
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
King Magab was busy with paperwork as he heard a commotion in the antechamber.
“You cannot enter the King’s chamber. He’s busy!”
Magab recognised his Chamberlain’s voice then more readily recognised the maidenly voice that argued back.
“Oh, so he’s too busy now is he ... too high and mighty to even see his own sister-in-law!”
Magab sighed. Much though he dearly loved Drustina she could try the patience of a saint. He wondered why she had not adopted her usual recourse and quietly mentioned what concerned her at the evening meal when she dined every night with Magab and his Queen Aiofe. It must be something of considerable consequence to bring her shouting and arguing at the King’s innermost door. He put down the parchment and stepped across his own chamber to open the door himself; an event unusual in itself but the brief period after lunch was a quiet time in the Palace, a time when most courtiers took a siesta in the midday heat. King Magab even dismissed his servants for he dearly valued the peaceful interlude to get on with his affairs of state without interruptions. Only his wise old Chamberlain lay dozing on the antechamber settee as old men were wont to do. It was a custom he had learned from his murdered father and often, as he sat musing in the peaceful silence of a hot afternoon, he wished his father was there to advise him now. As he opened the door the Chamberlain gasped with embarrassment and sprang to attend to the portal.
“My lord! There are servants to open doors!”
“Oh pisht, Chamberlain. I’ve got two perfectly good arms. What’s my sister ranting on about?”
Drustina cursed and stalked angrily into Magab’s chambers without so much as a ‘by your leave’. Magab sighed, he was used to Drustina’s peremptory manners. He signalled to the Chamberlain that everything was under control and closed the door behind Drustina to give them some privacy. Magab was fully aware of the disturbing situation developing between Bishop Alviar and his sister-in-law. Drustina turned to speak and Magab saw fear in her eyes for the very first time. It worried him.
“What is it sister?”
“That bloody Bishop. He’s spreading lies about me. He says I am a monster because of my ... my duality!”
“I’ll have a word with him about it. I’ll tell him to tone it down.”
“It’s gone past that stage. This morning one of his henchmen was abusive to me and insulted me in the square. I stopped his poison there and then!”
“Oh shit! What happened?”
“He called me a whore and other things. Then he accused me of being some sort of bloody monster. He also told me the Bishop thinks I should be burned at the stake!”
“What!”
“Exactly. The man’s a beast. He’s got a fixation with something called hellfire and brimstone!”
“He’s a powerful man Drustina. He has the support of the Archbishops of Constantinople, Athens and the Archbishop of Rome.”
“Huh. Rome is finished. The empire is breaking up like a wrecked ship on stormy rocks.”
“No Drustina, that’s only the temporal empire. This spiritual empire grows in strength with every year. In times of uncertainty more people seek comfort where they can find it.”
“Yes, and get led like lambs to slaughter as these hypocrites play on fear and uncertainty.”
“That’s your view Drustina and I suppose you have a right to it. But I was brought up in this faith although I must confess old Bishop Tambrel was a much kinder and cerebral man when it came to interpreting some of the conundrums. Bishop Alviar seems to take a much more militant, literal translation.”
“Well he’d better not try getting militant with me; he’s already lost two of his henchmen.”
Magab frowned. “What d’you mean?”
“After I sent that bully of a sergeant packing, his mates came looking to avenge his injury. The Templar Captain and a troop of six soldiers cornered me by the well. They tried to set about me with their swords. They’ll not be doing that again.”
Magab sighed as he tried to anticipate the next bit.
“Go on. What happened?”
“Well two of them are dead and two more will be a bit more circumspect about bullying nursing mothers.”
“Oh shit!” Magab cursed. “I’m having enough trouble with Alviar; this’ll stir up a hornet’s nest!”
“Why do you suffer him? Send him back to Cypru ... him and his bully-boy troops.”
“It’s not as easy as that. The archbishops appoint their bishops to each see.”
“So why do they need a company of soldiers? You keep the peace here, and it’s a pretty good peace now. I listen to the other mothers at the well.”
“Thank you for that. You information brings me comfort.”
“But this peace it seems doesn’t extend to peoples of other faiths. It did in Appotel’s kingdom and where Pilus reigns. I was never attacked by their soldiers.”
“These men are not my soldiers. They are Templar knights.”
“Yes ... bloody mercenaries; and only in it for their own gain.”
Magab tried to caution Drustina tactfully.
“Some might call you a mercenary, Drustina.”
“Oh - and when was I last paid?”
“Touché sister. That was a bit impetuous of me.”
“Exactly! Who planted the idea in your head that I was a mercenary?”
“Uuuhmm ... the Bishop.”
“Damn him to hell. You see how he sows his poisonous seeds! I have never taken a penny for my services to my sister and all through our battles, all I have sought is food and shelter. I even brought Aiofe’s dowry to you ... yes, I know it was not much, but we hail from a poor family of boat builders. It was all that was left of our family’s wealth after the damned Norsemen murdered our whole family except for me and my sisters.”
At the mention of her own family, Drustan started to cry and she was embarrassed by her tears. She turned abruptly, angered by her weakness, and stumbled from the room before Magab had a chance to reassure her. In the ante-chamber, Magab found her slumped on a settee with her shoulders heaving as the Chamberlain bent over her trying to offer a crumb of comfort. He looked up at the sound of the King’s door opening and turned to glare at Magab as he entered.
“What did you say to her, Majesty?”
“Nothing Chamberlain, honestly. It was a bad memory of her family’s murder that brought this on.”
“Well I think you’d better leave her to me. There’s another visitor waiting to see you.”
“Dammit! This is my private time; I even forego my siesta to find this uninterrupted time. Who is it?”
“Who else my liege? That infernal Bishop!”
Magab cursed and nodded towards the exit door.
“You’d best escort her to her chambers. Now my day’s completely ruined. There’s no peace.”
Magab watched as the elderly Chamberlain, the last survivor of his father’s coterie, gently helped Drustina out of the antechamber. Magab had a huge affection for the wise old Chamberlain for he had been like a second father to him during his father’s reign. During Mutas’s reign of terror, the old man had hidden in the marshes for over a year. As the Chamberlain exited with his arms around the sobbing Drustina’s shoulders, Magab addressed the other door. Bishop Alviar looked up slightly bemused to find the King opening his own doors.
“Are there no servants now sire?”
“There are Bishop, but this is my private time. I don’t usually receive visitors during the heat of the day. I use the peace and calm to reflect and write. The servants are aught but distractions, just like your visit now. So what business is so urgent that it cannot wait until the council meeting in the morning?”
The Bishop had prepared his speech carefully.
“It’s this sister of yours, she undermines the faith ... she contradicts the teachings.”
“This is hardly something that cannot be discussed in council.”
“No but the murder of two of my knights is something that needs immediate attention.”
“Murder Bishop? It appears that your soldiers drew their swords on her; a nursing mother I might remind you!”
“They only did it to arrest her. They had no intention of harming her.”
“How would she have known that? One of your bully-boy sergeants had already abused her, and drawn his sword earlier that morning. I know all the facts Bishop, I have my own reliable sources of information.”
The Bishop frowned angrily. He thought he was the first to report to Magab but somebody had obviously preceded him and that someone must have free access to the King. The only person with an accurate version of events and free access to the King’s chamber was his accursed sister-in-law, Drustina!
“Has that witch been here already?”
“Careful Bishop, that’s my sister-in-law you’re talking about. I could charge you with treason for that.”
“So she has! How do you know she is not lying?”
“She has no cause to lie. Her life has been one long brutal truth. There is no more certain truth than to face a foe in battle. You forget - I have known Drustina since she was but ten summers old. I taught her numbers and Latin and Greek. Her own grandmother taught her letters. As a child she, or rather he, never lied and I’ve never caught her out in a lie since.”
“But that’s just it. You said it yourself... he or she?”
“It matters not to me Bishop. What has befallen her is no fault of hers.”
“Is it not? Then whose fault is it?”
“I don’t know Alviar, and I doubt that you do.”
“It must be somebody’s fault.”
“Where’s the fault Bishop? What fault applies to an individual who can enjoy the supreme delights of both motherhood and fatherhood? If anything, I would offer that she is supremely blessed! Where is the fault in receiving a blessing?”
“It’s not God’s blessing!”
“How do you know that?”
“God does not make mistakes, God does not create monsters! God is infallible therefore it follows that she was created by the devil! If she is neither man nor woman and yet both, she is obviously a mistake and should be destroyed before more like her come to destroy us. She is a monster!”
“She’s hardly a monster Bishop, in fact she is a very kind and dare I say it a very attractive girl.”
Even as he said it Magab cursed himself and the Bishop seized his opening.
“Precisely! A very attractive girl, a temptress, a witch, a spawn of Satan!”
“How does being an attractive girl make her a witch?”
“She is the embodiment of the original sin, the fall from grace, the serpent!”
“How so? She is loyal and chaste only unto one, namely Torvel, another warrior who helped me win back my throne. I’m sorry Bishop. You’ll have to do better than that. Bring me evidence of treason or theft or some such secular crime and I’ll perhaps address your issues, but as to hypothetical crimes based upon uncertain Biblical sagas and even more uncertain interpretations, I cannot act against anybody for that.”
“This is a Christian country and you were crowned as a Christian King; any who refuse to acknowledge the supremacy of the one God must therefore be guilty of some sort of treason.”
“'Some sort of treason’. That’s not a very certain premise is it? ... Prisoner before us, I charge you with ‘some — sort — of — treason’. How would that work before a court? I’m sorry Bishop, you’ll have to bring a better case than that. Now you are disturbing my peace, I must dismiss you.”
As Magab said this the Chamberlain returned and stood holding the door open; an obvious sign to the Bishop that his audience was over. After he had left Magab turned to the kingly old man.
“Is she still upset?”
“She sleeps my liege. Queen Aiofe is with her and the maids with the babes.”
“She’s frightened Chamberlain. I’ve never seen her frightened before.”
“It’s the Bishop's lies my lord. She does not know how to fight lies. She has only been a woman but a short time and she knows little of the subtleties of dealing with men and particularly dishonest men.”
“D’you deem the Bishop Alviar to be dishonest then?”
“He accepted Mutas’s illegal claim to the throne.”
“He had to otherwise he’d have gone the way of the rest of my father’s court.”
“I didn’t my liege. I admit I simply ran and hid away but I am an old and weak man. I did not give Mutas the legitimacy he craved.”
“Indeed Chamberlain, you’re perfectly correct and for that I’m supremely grateful. So how to protect my sister from this man’s sinister divinations and plotting?”
“I don’t know my lord. He’s a devious and clever creature and he uses the faith to suit his own prejudices.”
“Why does he so hate women? He’s always relegating them to a back seat. He objects even to Queen Aiofe sitting around the council chamber but the others are adamant she is there by right for she did her part and more during the fight for my restoration.”
“As indeed did Drustina,” the Chamberlain replied, “but now she leaves her seat empty for she so hates the Bishop and his antagonism towards her. She will not sit at the same table.”
Magab nodded and added, “Two or three years ago the Bishop would have been run through by that Toledo blade of hers for just one of those malicious suggestions he keeps repeating. If he pushes her too far she might still do it. He doesn’t know how close he is to death.”
“If he was killed my lord, that would put your realm in severe conflict with the church.”
“I know. I wish we could change him for a more enlightened man like old Bishop Tambrel.”
Magab had been considering writing to the Archbishop of Rome for some time. That same afternoon he finally felt compelled to act, so he composed the letter and despatched it.
Sadly, events in the kingdom moved faster than the ship-borne mail of those faraway days.
Drustina was down in the square a couple of weeks later and another attempt was made to arrest her. It seemed that Bishop Alviar was obsessed with having the blasphemous abomination burned at the stake for her offence in the eyes of the Lord.
This time the Templar knights arrived in considerable force but again their plotting was confounded. They arrived suddenly in the square and rapidly approached Drustina as she chatted with her two remaining loyal friends. The guard Captain shouted at the girls to step aside as he warned them.
“There might be bloodshed if the witch resists!”
One of the girls shouted back demanding to know how they knew Drustina was a witch. The Captain censured the girl for questioning the wisdom of God and warned her that she might also be arrested as a witch for consorting with the blasphemy.
The girl became afraid and shrank behind Drustina who had now drawn her sword as she gave her warning.
“I warned you last time Captain. How many of your thugs need to be killed before you’ll leave me alone?”
The Captain ignored her warning then unrolled a piece of parchment and started reading it aloud.
“The Witch known as Drustina, reputed to be both man and woman, is deemed a blasphemy in the eyes of the true God. All who know of this must render assistance to the forces of God and the Bishop Alviar as God’s representative in Carthage. The offence is subject to canon law not secular law for the crime is one of unearthly deviation from the true forms of man or woman.”
Drustina cursed and stood to arms as she drew her sword to confront the dozen soldiers who had arrived with the Captain to arrest her. The Captain sneered as he leaned casually by the low gap in the well wall where the bucket was normally tipped.
“There are too many of us witch and we are armoured for war. The only way you can defeat us is if you consort with the devil to employ satanic magic.”
“There’s no magic in this sword Captain, only certain death and speed!”
She turned to her friends again and advised them to take her babies and make for the palace but this time the Captain had prepared properly. As the girls carried the babies across the square, more soldiers emerged from various streets and the girls were surrounded. The soldiers seized the babies and the Captain challenged Drustina.
“You will come quietly witch or your brats die.”
Drustina played the last peaceful card she knew ... her relationship to Queen Aiofe.
“Touch those babies Captain and you touch the King’s nephew and niece, I advise you to think again.”
“The brats will not be harmed if you surrender your sword!”
Drustina knew better than to surrender the last remaining obstacle to her capture. She had dealt with bullies and liars enough in her short life. Instead she slipped her hand under her loose blouse and rested it on the hilt of her dagger. Again she repeated her warning.
“I warn you Captain, if you harm my children you will pay with your life.”
Even as she said this one of the babies, Drustina’s son, let out a wail and the soldier holding him tried to forcibly suppress the bay’s cry. The girl who had been carrying him, screeched her objection and tried to remove his hand from the baby’s mouth but the soldier hit her across the head. In so doing he lost his grip of the baby and dropped him. The baby howled in pain and that was the last straw for Drustina. She gave a scream of rage and flung herself at the Captain.
“I warned you, you bastard! En Garde!”
The Captain cackled his contempt for he had girded all his vulnerable parts with plate and chain-mail. There was no way the bitch could penetrate to his person with her blade. He raised his hand lower the visor to his helm but he was too slow. Drustina’s dagger had already flashed free and, with a fluid movement, the dagger flew unerringly through the unguarded space to pierce the Captain’s eye. The weight and force of the dagger strike drove the blade through his eye and directly into his brain. The Captain let out a redundant scream for he was already dying then he fell lifeless down the well.
A stunned silence descended on the square.
This chapter tells O Drustina's escape from the Bishop's clutches.
The Angry Mermaid 24
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 24.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin The twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan &Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
The silence around the square was short lived. Twelve heavily armed Templar Knights encircled Drustina and the well to prevent any escape. The girl estimated her chances and decided this was the end; even with her back to the well there was no way she could avoid twelve swords at once.
She certainly wasn’t going to give the Bishop the pleasure of seeing her body burned at the stake so she raised her sword and prepared to die, bravely, on the point of a sword. The knights however were fearful of simply charging in for all had seen the speed and sharpness of Drustina’s weapons. For several minutes there was a stand-off until there was a commotion by the palace gates that faced onto the main square. A man’s voice bellowed urgently.
“Drustina!”
She recognised it as Torvel’s and screamed out to him without taking her eyes off the gathering Knights.
“Get help, the bastards are trying to kill me!”
Torvel quickly summed up the situation and bellowed over his shoulder to a platoon of Palace Guards to accompany him into the town square. They turned as one and galloped through the gates just as the first knight made a tentative stab at Drustina. Torvel roared with rage and doubled his efforts to finally arrive to curse the Templar Platoon who had closed a ring of steel facing both inwards and outwards to face both threats.
“Twelve men against a single maid!” Torvel snarled. “Is that your idea of a fight?”
The Knights were now pincered between the single maid and the rapidly deploying guards whose numbers were growing as word of the confrontation spread amongst the palace guard. There was a ringing clash of steel and Torvel realised the Templar thugs were hell bent on killing the girl. The bravest Knight, (if attacking a maid outnumbered twelve to one could be called brave) was exchanging strokes with Drustina even as the second assailant was closing in. Before Torvel and his reinforcements could penetrate the Templar circle, Drustina was fighting desperately with three of the superbly armoured knights. Even Drustina could see that her days were numbered if Torvel and his men could not reach her in time. She cast around in terror as she prepared to enter the realms of the Gods. For once her fear betrayed her and she felt a vicious slash just slice past her thigh. It drew blood and the Templar Knight crowed with premature expectation. He lunged forward to administer the final blow but the maid was still too quick. She leapt back and up onto the circular well wall and just managed to evade the thrust. Now she was dancing frantically on the well wall to avoid the sword slashes and thrusts. Occasionally she made a strike against the Knights but their heavy armour was easily able to deflect her weakening efforts. Sadly however, she could feel the sword cut beginning to tell and her wounded leg was beginning to betray her. The well was now encircled by four of the knights and she had nowhere else to go. Her arm was tiring and she heard the knights exchange chuckles of anticipated victory as they moved closer for the kill. Each of them hoping for the credit of the final killing of the blasphemous witch of Carthage. Finally she cried in despair.
“Torvel! I am done! There is nowhere to go!”
Then a voice called from amongst the guardsmen: “Jump girl! Jump down the well!”
Drustina glanced between her bleeding legs and contemplated the stygian blackness.
As she hesitated the voice repeated its call: “Jump girl. It’s deep water at the bottom and they cannot follow you, they are encumbered by their heavy plate and mail.”
Torvel took up the call: “Jump, Drustina. Jump!”
With a final despairing cry of “Noooo-dennnss” to her beloved Celtic sea god, Drustina stepped into the void and plunged into the depths. The Templar Knights cursed and rushed to look down the well. They saw nothing for the well was too dark and deep. Then they had to look to Torvel’s rage, not to mention the fury of the Palace Guards who now heavily outnumbered the twelve knights. The end was quick for several of the guards had pikes and they were angry with themselves for not having spotted the incident earlier. Within minutes twelve corpses lay scattered around the well as Torvel lurched up to the little stone circle and called down in faint hope: “Drustinaa!”...
Nothing.
“Drustinaaaa!!!”
Again ... nothing.
Torvel looked up at the guardsmen who were now gathering around him.
“Who told her to jump?”
“Me sir.” A grizzled old sergeant came forward. “Sergeant Carapha, sir.”
“Why?”
“She looked as though she was about to lose the sword play and these brutes obviously meant business.”
“Why, damn you? Whilst she was still alive she would still have had a chance - more guardsmen were arriving all the time. We might have got to her. We’ll never get to her now!”
“Uuhhm, I would beg to differ, sire.”
Torvel squinted at the old guardsman suspiciously: “What d’you mean?”
“May I speak privately, sire?”
Torvel paused thoughtfully then ushered the rest of the guardsmen away. They all stepped back out of earshot.
“Go on, explain yourself sergeant.”
The man peered down the well and nodded as he turned to Torvel.
“Ask all the guardsmen to stand well back and tell everybody to be absolutely silent.”
Torvel did so and an eerie silence settled on the square. Then the sergeant took hold of the bucket and asked Torvel to sit astride it.
“What for, man?”
“I would like to lower you about ten cubits below the lip of the well.”
The sergeant then beckoned to several of the stronger men and they slowly wound the rope out off the drum as Torvel descended to the suggested depth. Then the sergeant leaned over the well and whispered so nobody else could hear.
“What can you hear?”
“It’s water ... moving water, it sounds like a small waterfall.” Torvel whispered back.
The sergeant nodded then instructed the men to wind Torvel back. When the Celt emerged the Sergeant took him aside out of earshot.
“My father’s, father’s, father dug that well sire. He made a drawing of it and I have it still in my home. He handed it to my father’s father and my father handed it to me.”
“Go on,” Torvel pressed the old man.
“Under this town square my Captain, there is an underground stream running into a rocky cave then the stream runs away, nobody else knows where but one of my ancestors was an oyster and pearl diver long ago. He found the outlet and decided to trace it back as best he could. The town square hereabouts used to be our farm until the Romans destroyed Carthage and sowed our fields with salt. For hundreds of years our farm lay barren but we held onto the land and grew what little we could. To supplement our meagre income from the barren land we took to pearl fishing and harvesting shellfish. Finally we learned that there was water below our land, sweet fresh water. My great-great-grandfather started the well but it took long years for the well cuts through rock. My great-grandfather finished it for we could hear the water as we dug through the rock.
The water supplying the well runs as an underground stream under the city then it seeps out of the subterranean cave, through the rock via a fissure and emerges as a submarine spring far beyond the new harbour wall. The water level in the well stays always constantly about five cubits above the level of the sea outside. The pressure difference keeps the salt out and the subterranean stream always refreshes the well with clean fresh mountain water coming from high, high up in the mountains. My family was once of noble stock and we once owned all this land as far back as the high mountains. After hundreds of years of digging and searching we finally established where the watercourse ran. My great-great-grandfather dug the final well that we have here. We started using the well to flush the salt from our soil. It proved so successful that the king of that time appropriated it and built the new Carthage here around our well. You will have noticed the well is in the middle of the town square and that the well never runs dry. Furthermore, the water is always sparkling sweet and fresh. It’s the very soul of New Carthage.”
“That’s all very interesting sergeant; but of what interest is this to me?”
“Take another look, sire. See that the shaft gradually widens as the well deepens.”
Torvel squinted into the depths and slowly nodded as he got an inkling of what the old sergeant was driving at. The sergeant smiled and nodded.
“Yes sir. There have been two instances of past members of my family falling down the well and both survived without any harm except to their dignity. Because the well is cut through solid rock and widens as it sinks, fallers do not dash themselves against the sides of the well. One of those fallers was my great-great-uncle who helped great-grandfather finish digging the well and the other was my very own sister when she was young. That was only a couple of months before the old King’s grandfather, Magab’s great-grandfather, appropriated the well. We did not suffer unduly. We kept the land on that side of the square and we own most of those city blocks. My sister runs the family business for I have little time for figures, rents and so on. However, only I and my sister have the secret of the well. That’s our family ‘back-stop’.”
“Are you saying Drustina could be alive?”
“More than that, sire. I’m certain of it, if her wound has not overcome her. Come with me.”
Torvel ordered the guard to 'tidy up the square' and followed the old sergeant to a large house in the middle of the New city. At the door the sergeant called inside.
“Hello sister, it’s me Carapha.”
An old family retainer met them and he smiled appreciatively.
“Why sir, you’re home early.”
“Yes, and I bring one of our most illustrious commanders, Torvel the Celt. Where’s my sister?”
“In the counting room, sir.”
The old sergeant nodded and led Torvel deeper into the house into a well constructed strong-room where the sergeant introduced Torvel to his sister.
“Commander, I give you Argentis my sister.”
The old lady made to rise to her feet but Torvel begged her not to. She was grateful for the release and settled arthritically back into her chair as she turned questioningly to her brother.
“So brother Carapha, what business brings the Illustrious Torvel to our humble counting house?”
“There’s been an accident sister. The lady Drustina has fallen down the well.”
Argentis just smiled and grinned. “She’s a crazy one that one. How did it happen?”
“She had to escape the Bishop’s thugs; she was trapped at the well so I told her to jump down it.”
Argentis frowned and handed Carapha a large iron key. Torvel noted that Carapha’s sister did not seem unduly concerned, she didn’t even ask about the lady Drustina. Without more ado, Carapha pulled aside a small chest to reveal a stone slab slightly larger than the rest of the floor’s irregular paving but not noticeably so ... not enough to attract interest if the room was searched. He took a strong metal pole that rested innocuously by the door and carefully levered the stone slab clear without scratching it. This revealed a set of steps leading down to a heavy wooden door. The key unlocked the door and Torvel’s eyes widened with surprise as it revealed a shallow sloping passage containing a series of more steps leading deep down into the solid rock.
“Where does this go?”
Sergeant Carapha smiled and took a blanket and a fire-brand that Argentis had lit from the lamp on her table, then he beckoned Torvel down the steps. Torvel followed with another brand and was surprised to find the passage was quite roomy once past the cramped narrow portal. Obviously the steps led deep down into the rock. Argentis stepped back and locked the door to the counting chamber to prevent any unwanted intrusions. It was obvious that only she and Carapha knew of the passage. Argentis continued with her accounts to maintain the subterfuge as Torvel followed Carapha deep into the bed rock. Once they were several hundred cubits down the passage Carapha explained to Torvel.
“This passage leads right down to the subterranean grotto that forms the deep syphonic pool at the bottom of the well. My grandfather and his brother found the grotto when they were tracing the stream. They modified the whole grotto by building a dam to raise the water to the foot of the incoming fall. Then, having got sufficient height and depth of water, they built the stone trap to form the siphon and ensure there was always a deep pool of water trapped at the bottom of the well. Finally they bricked the sides of the well up to the roof of the grotto so there’s no way into the grotto from the bottom of the well unless you sink to the bottom of the siphon and get swept around the bend. If you descend the well by the bucket you just seem to hit a deep pool of water fed from below but it’s actually a swan-necked siphon. However, if you fall down the well, you gather enough momentum to travel around the bend and emerge in the grotto. My family have been digging wells for hundreds of years. You will notice the shaft of the well widens and the well opens out as you descend to make a wide and deep pool at the bottom. This prevents you dashing yourself to pieces as you tumble. When you hit the water, you sink with the force of your fall then the symphonic effect takes you past the ingress stream and you pop out like a turd from a horse’s arse where the outlet bubbles up into the lower open pool. If all has happened as great-great-grandfather and great-great-uncle planned then we should find Drustina cold and unhurt but nursing her pride at the side of the lower pool. The trouble is it’s pitch black so she’ll not have a clue what’s about her. She will probably also have a few nasty scratches, possibly even a broken arm or something but she shouldn’t be seriously hurt. She won’t have hit the sides as she fell and the pool is wide enough to deflect any misdirected entry into the water. She should be safe.”
Torvel wagged his head in amazement as they continued descending until they came to another, even stronger door that opened with a key that had been secreted on a ledge further up the passage. Torvel had been so busy watching his step that he failed to notice Carapha collect the key from its hiding place during their descent. The door creaked open and the pair stepped into a narrow cleft in the rock. Torvel had to squeeze past the tight restriction as Carapha explained.
“In pitch darkness, nobody would ever find this tiny cleft to look for a way out from the grotto. They would die here if we did not come to save them.”
“So the dead Templar captain’s body will be down here.” Torvel observed.
“And probably a few others, I’ve heard that a goodly number of bodies have been disposed of down the well but the siphon arrangement sucks the corpses out at the bottom and this keeps the well clear and keeps the water pure. The bodies pop out of the horse’s arse and are swept to the end of the grotto unless they are alive and pull themselves clear. There the bodies rot and it does not pollute the siphon trap at the bottom of the well. There, can you hear the rushing water now? That’s the stream at the top of the waterfall above the siphon feed pouring into the culvert”
Torvel nodded as his wide eyes reflected in the torchlight. Then they stepped along a flat edge to the culvert before it disappeared into the siphon trap. Carapha led Torvel around the structure and suddenly he heard a plaintive nervous cry. It was Drustina! She had seen the glow from their fire-brand torches.
“Who ... who - who’s there?”
“It’s me Drustina ... Torvel.”
“Oh thank God. I am dying of cold! I can’t move, I can’t see a thing, I ... ah! There you are. I’ve just seen the flicker of your flame.”
Torvel rushed past Carapha and flung his arms around his beloved comrade. She blinked and shivered until Carapha wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
“Thank you comrade, who are you?” Drustina asked.
“I’m the one who told you to jump down the well.”
There was a pause as Drustina’s sharp brain made sense of Carapha’s statement.
“Then you ... you must have known of this — this arrangement, this water trap.”
“Indeed I do my lady. Only my beloved sister, and now you two know of this secret. Now let us get you back to somewhere warm.”
“Th — thank you. I perish with the cold! I’ve lost my sword.”
Carapha stepped back towards the side of the grotto, reached behind a crevice in the rock and produced a long pole with a hook.
After fishing about under the neck of the siphon he gave a murmur of satisfaction and hauled Drustina’s beloved weapon out of the freezing water.
“There my lady, all safe and sound. Now I believe your dagger should be around here somewhere, perhaps further down the stream where that bully’s body should have ended up.”
With a knowledge and certainty born of his long held secret, Carapha picked his way along the out-flowing stream bank until he found what he was looking for, the narrow exit fissure where the captain’s body had jammed between the rocks. Drustina’s trusty dagger was still embedded in his eye and brain so he also returned this to the grateful heroine.
The girl wept with gratitude and hugged Sergeant Carapha tightly to her breasts.
Finally they returned to the counting room where Drustina gaped at Argentis as she casually helped her brother Carapha and Torvel replace the slab and drag the heavy wooden chest back into its normal position. Drustina turned to her companion Torvel and smiled.
“This is an amazing feature; they have a secret grotto deep under the town square.”
Torvel nodded while Carapha smiled then his face turned serious.
“And it must remain a secret my lady. You know now that you are in great danger. Even the King’s writ does not run where this madman Bishop Alviar preaches his canon law. You would do best to lie low here for a few weeks and pretend death.”
“Oh most certainly I agree with you Carapha. I am undone. I cannot even go abroad at midday in the middle of the main town square.”
“So what are you to do, darling?” Torvel asked Drustina.
“Well for now I will accept Carapha’s invitation. Will you convey the terrible news to my sister that her devil-may-care sibling has taken her last crazy risk?”
“What! Tell her you’re dead! That will devastate her!”
“It is only for a few weeks while we work out a stratagem. Ask her to take my babies and place them with some wet nurses. Magab found some for them when they were born but I surprised the King by choosing to feed them myself. Now I won’t be there they’ll have to resort to the wet nurses.”
Torvel nodded and the Sergeant smiled. His sister Argentis would enjoy a bit of female company around the house for when the servants went home and Carapha was on guard duty, the house was empty and Argentis rattled around in it now the children were grown and gone. To have a secret guest would give Argentis some excitement for she was tired of imposing on her friends every time she felt lonely.
With arrangements completed, Torvel took the ‘news’ of Drustina’s death to Aiofe.
In which drustina departs secretly from Carthage after pretending to be dead to avoid the Bishop hunting her down. She goes East to Egypt seeking wisdom up the Nile but meets again with Bishop Alviar.
The Angry Mermaid. 25
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 25.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
-000-
“WHAT! Dead!”
“I must presume so Your Majesty.”
“She jumped ... down the well!”
“It was the only way she could go unless she wanted to be cut to pieces. She was fighting like a lioness but the Templars were all armoured in their plate and mail. Her sword had no effect and she was striking them hip and thigh. We were trying to reach her but we were too few at first. There was a shout; something about jumping down the well and the next second she did. That’s the last anybody saw of her. We called down. Two of the men actually went down on ropes but the well is a sort of siphon trap at the bottom. Water wells up from a stream below the top of the water then it siphons away. The men could find no trace of her and they even swam in the water. There is a dangerous trap down there. Men can get sucked away and nobody knows where they end up.”
“So, no trace of her body then?”
“None that they could find Ma'am.”
Queen Aiofe let out a scream that brought her husband Magab and dozens of servants running.
“What’s wrong my dearest?” Magab begged.
“My brother! My sister! She’s dead!” Aiofe cried loudly.
Magab turned in shock to Torvel.
“Is this true?”
“We are pretty sure my lord. Whatever has happened we cannot reach her, she disappeared down the well.”
“How did this happen?”
Torvel described events chapter and verse as Magab fumed and raged. After Torvel’s account was finished, Magab sent for the Bishop. After questioning him, King Magab finally lost patience. In his kingdom, the realm where he had sworn to uphold peace, this butcher, the very man who was supposed to teach peace and love, as Magab read the book, was actually organising death and murder. He charged the Bishop, who immediately protested, with murder .
“My men did not kill her. She committed suicide and jumped. That’s a mortal sin!”
“She was driven to it Alviar and it was your men who did the driving. I might as well tell you now: I have already sent a missive to the Bishop of Rome requesting your removal. Until I receive a reply, I am imprisoning you. Then you can do no more damage.”
The Bishop cursed loudly but a simple nod from King Magab brought the guards and Alviar was dragged away kicking and screaming.
The whole of Carthage went into mourning when they heard of Drustina’s disappearance but none mourned more than Aiofe and Arina. Naturally Aiofe adopted her sister’s babies but it was small compensation for the loss of her beloved sister. Hardly a moment went by but Aiofe recalled some other incident, some event that brought more tearful memories and left her choking with despair. King Magab became worried.
Then, a couple of weeks after the terrible event, the reply to Magab’s letter arrived. The Bishop Alviar was to be removed forthwith and returned to Cypru. Magab read the letter with mixed feelings. If the damned Bishop of Rome had been quicker to respond, this whole blasted sorry business would have been avoided. The very morning that the new replacement bishop arrived from Rome, Alviar was forcibly placed aboard another unarmed merchant ship and despatched immediately to Cypru. It would not be a comfortable passage for the Bishop because the ship was a slow lumbering trader stopping off at Malta and Kriti.
The Bishop demanded to know why he was not being accorded an armed warship as befitted his station but Magab just cursed him and sent him bundling down to the harbour in chains.
As he watched the merchant ship with its confounded cargo slide clumsily away from the quay, Torvel could almost hear the collective sigh of relief emanate from the whole country.
That same afternoon, Torvel and Arina declared to King Magab that they wished to sail for Malta. Both of them declared to Magab that they were in despair at the loss of their erstwhile companion, and seeing the babies every day served only to remind them of their cruel loss. Passing the well every day also compounded the hurt. Torvel declared that he was agreeable to Aiofe rearing his babies and a sombre mood settled over the Palace.
That evening Torvel and Arina took The Angry Mermaid out of Carthage harbour and seemingly east to Valletta, whereas they headed for a secret rendezvous along the coast where a girl on a faithful little horse met them in a quiet secret cove. Carapha and Argentis had succeeded in smuggling Drustina to the coastal rendezvous. It was a struggle to get the brave little horse aboard the Mermaid but with the help of Carapha and Argentis they finally succeeded. Carapha and his sister bade them sad farewells and the Mermaid set sail eastwards into the darkening evening sky. Bitter tears filled Drustina’s motherly eyes as she mourned the loss of her children. A hard empty lump set in her heart and her breasts ached as they slowly dried up of milk. There could be no worse nor hurtful sign of her loss than the drying up of her breasts, the return to barren sterility. Drustina mourned long and hard for her children, there could be no greater loss!
Once clear of the rocky bay and as dawn broke, they set the sails in an unusual rig to disguise the Mermaid’s identity then set the course eastwards. The faithful craft sprang to life as the three steadfast friends remained wrapped in a desperate embrace of relief and sadness ... sadness that her babies could not be with their mother.
Dawn burst upon them to illuminate a fat lumbering merchant ship ploughing her leisurely course and Torvel recognised her immediately.
“That’s the ship carrying Alviar,” he growled angrily, anticipating some revenge. To his surprise, Drustina shrugged then smiled knowingly.
“Let him arrive in Malta then depart there. When the ship sails again we can avenge my abuse at sea between Malta and Kriti. Then Walezia can say honestly that the ship left Malta safely and it must have succumbed to storms or Pirates on passage between Malta and Kriti.”
“So you intend to punish him then?” Arina wondered.
Drustina gave her companion a look of disbelief then explained: “He’s cost me my babies Arina. Just you wait and see how that feels if you ever have children! He deserves something worse than a simple return to his homeland.”
“Will you kill him?” Torvel asked. “He’s caused a few to be burned at the stake while he was in Carthage and he condoned Mutas’s excesses.”
Drustina frowned thoughtfully.
“I don’t know what to do yet. What do you think?”
Torvel had no answer but, after some hesitation, Arina ventured an idea.
“I think I might have a solution,” she spoke nervously and softly.
Drustina and Torvel turned to her. Arina rarely spoke out of turn and she had never volunteered ideas much, unless called upon for her opinion or a vote.
“Go on,” Drustina and Torvel chorused in unison.
“Well, I was forced to go and watch one of those ghastly burnings. I suspect I was supposed to report back to you to relate the horror and frighten you into conversion to his faith. Some poor woman had been accused of being a witch. There was no proper trial and it was the last one before Magab put a stop to the whole ghastly business. Alviar was actually enjoying the woman’s horror and terror. I watched him ... you know ... playing with himself. I was forced to stand close to him, behind the pulpit he had erected to preach his evil ‘hellfire and damnation’ sermon before the pyre was lit. Why don’t you just geld him, then he’ll get no joy out of his murders.”
As Arina finished relating the story she cursed angrily and curled up in pain. Only then did Drustina get the first inkling of Arina’s previous moodiness over the last day. Even Torvel seemed to grasp the portent.
Drustina and Torvel looked at each other. Their companion Arina was growing up. If Arina understood about masturbation then carnal knowledge had obviously come to her in the years since leaving Iberia.
Drustina studied Arina through older eyes. The girl was now thirteen and well formed. Her growing into a young woman had come to her almost secretly and unnoticed by her older companion. Drustina caught Torvel’s eye and nodded significantly towards the tiller. Torvel ‘got the message’ and stepped aft as Drustina patted the spare sails to offer Arina a seat.
Once seated she spoke gently to the young woman: “We need a chat, girl.”
Arina sensed the import of Drustina’s words and settled more comfortably as she squeezed eagerly beside her. Drustina spoke softly.
“Has Damara visited you yet?”
“I ... I think so.”
“What d’you mean; you think so? It’s pretty hard to miss; cramps in your belly, blood in your female parts, bad moods, and sore breasts!”
Arina turned to look tearfully at Drustina and nodded uncomprehendingly.
“Yes. Yes, I’ve had all that. Is that Damara’s visit?”
“Yes! Yes of course it is. Have you spoken to nobody? Have you not spoken to Aiofe?”
“The first time it came, she and I were preoccupied with your death. It didn’t seem the right time. It was also my first time, I didn’t understand.”
Drustina sighed and hugged Arina.
“Oh my poor sweet little girl! My poor, poor girl. Aiofe and I have been very remiss, very selfish. What have I missed? What in all the name of Damara and womanhood, have I missed?”
Arina squeezed into Drustina’s embrace and sighed apologetically.
“You were gone and Queen Aiofe had been so busy. I didn’t want to bother anybody. I didn’t want to become a burden.”
A lump jammed in Drustina’s throat. Poor Arina had endured the whole interlude of menarche with no support, no information, no comfort ... no motherly love.
Drustina continued hugging the girl while Torvel looked away. Then Drustina took some cloth and medications from her travelling bag and assisted Arina in her first proper addressing of her condition. Arina filled up with grateful tears as the herbal medicine brought immediate relief to her cramps.
“Where did you get this infusion?”
“The healer gave it to me before I ‘died’. More importantly she showed me how to make it. I think she sensed I was either about to die or live a life of continual wanderings. She is a good woman.”
Arina nodded and smiled as her pains subsided and Drustina explained how to dress herself to absorb the blood. Once Arina felt comfortable she smiled shyly and Drustina took her to join Torvel and share some food at the tiller. Drustina warned Torvel.
“Arina is no longer a girl, Torvel; I give you the woman, the lady Arina.”
Torvel bowed without comedy and then extended his arms.
“So young lady, you join us at last as an adult. Welcome to responsibilities and worries but welcome also to equality and respect.”
“I’ve always had those.” Arina replied. “Drustina and Aiofe and Mabina always accorded me those.”
“Well yes; you have indeed but now you bring that extra dimension my lady, you come amongst us as an adult. Normally, in my tribe this was an important occasion for every young lady. She received gifts from family and friends in the tribe, but sadly I have little to offer you here aboard this faithful craft.”
“Save friendship, companionship and love.” Arina smiled.
Drustina’s eyes teared up and she gave Arina a squeeze around the shoulders as they stared out pensively over the waves searching for the familiar outline of Gozo and Malta.
As both girls peered ahead Torvel gave a surprised cry: “It’s there on the port beam! To the north, it’s Gozo.”
Drustina turned with surprise. Normally her navigation was a bit more accurate than that. She frowned: “We must have made more speed than we thought.”
“Obviously,” Torvel replied, “good job we didn’t arrive at night. That’s definitely Gozo.”
Drustina agreed and then remarked thoughtfully: “Do we have to go to Valletta? Why don’t we call in Gozo?”
“I thought you wanted to see King Walezia.”
“Not particularly,” Drustina mused, “I’ll get the same hassle from the priests there as I did from that arsehole Alviar. Especially when Alviar gets amongst them; he’s a mad-man!”
Torvel raised an eyebrow and Drustina nodded.
“We may as well make Gozo then. Seripatese can smell the land. She’ll start to fret soon.”
Torvel leant hard on the tiller and The Angry Mermaid swung sharply round as she heeled over. Seripatese gave a nervous whinny and Drustina held her head as Arina reset the sails. Soon The Angry Mermaid was slipping between the harbour moles and Seripatese stared expectantly at the land. The little mare was not disappointed and as soon as Torvel had docked the ship, Drustina led the mare ashore. Arina found some fodder for the mare while Drustina spoke to the harbour authorities and Torvel guarded the ship, mainly by sleeping on the dropped mainsail. While Arina exercised Seripatese, Drustina organised fresh victuals. The next morning they were gone again and speeding eastwards past Valletta bound for Kriti.
As their ship passed south of Malta, Drustina observed: "King Walezia will be annoyed when he learns we stopped at Gozo and snubbed him in Valletta.”
Torvel hazarded a guess: “I can’t think of anything we needed in Valletta that we didn’t get cheaper and quicker in Gozo.”
Drustina countered: “And we left messages with the Harbour Master. They’ll be winging their way to the King as we speak. Besides I can’t face any more censorious, bigoted priests right now even though Walezia has them in check. They’ve already been cause for the loss of my babies.”
“So where are we bound?” Torvel asked.
“I can’t think. Somewhere that church’s writ does not run. I’m told the Copts of Egypt are a much more tolerant branch. They claim to be the earliest of this weird ‘three god’ thing. The earliest missionaries travelled up the great River. Magab told me all about it. His grandmother was a Nubian, that’s why he was so dark skinned.”
“It’s a long haul to Egypt,” Arina added. “Which way d’you intend to go?”
Drustina took out a chart that none of them had much studied. It covered a large section of open sea from Malta to the Island of Kriti. The three of them pored over the chart and concluded that a passage direct to the westernmost tip would best suit.
“It’s a long haul,” Torvel mused.
“We’ve done longer ... much longer.” Arina declared proudly. “The passage from Brithony to Gibral was over seven days and we never saw land either.”
Torvel looked at her then to Drustina: “Is that true?”
Drustina nodded and added: “Yes but we didn’t have a horse with us. We had to stand off into the great ocean. We had no idea how far north the Barbary Corsairs were raiding that year. It was Mabina’s navigation that brought us safely to port.”
“Yes.” Torvel nodded thoughtfully. “I remember her seamanship when we rendezvoused off Cadeez before the battle with Ibn Bin Saar. She had a flair for navigation and figures.”
Drustina was about to object to Torvel’s remark for she considered her figures at least to be every bit as good as her twin sister’s but she let Torvel’s remark pass. It was immaterial anyway. She was unlikely ever to meet her twin sister again. A sad melancholy overtook her and she fell to hugging Seripatese’s neck whilst staring pensively towards the west as the Mermaid raced east. Arina brought her back to reality.
“So what’s it to be Dru’? South east and then follow the northern coast of the Libeye or due east to Kriti?”
Drustina returned to the chart and consulted the notes inscribed on the parchments.
“It talks of Maistros winds in the Ionian sea and then stronger Meltemi winds in the Aegean. The Sirocco blows up from the south in winter so being as it’s summer now there’s a fair chance we’ll run into the first two winds.”
“So we pass south of Kriti then sail south east to Egypt,” Torvel surmised. “Will we be stopping by in Kriti to replenish?”
“I think we’ll have to. Seripatese eats hay like a machine and we can’t carry that much. Have you ever been to Kriti?” Drustina asked him.
“Only once when we crossed the Aegean sea and that Meltemi wind set us unexpectedly south. It was before I was captured by the corsairs.”
“How did you get this far east Torvel? I mean, you’re a Celt. You couldn’t have come across those great marshes Eric and Carl spoke of.”
“I crossed Gaul as a trader-venturer, then I joined a ship on the great Rhonus River and we traded quite extensively until we were caught by the corsairs. I’ve got a lot to thank you for darling, another few months in that Galley and I would have died along with Eric and Carl. All the sweeps-men died eventually.”
Torvel pulled Drustina close to him, hugged her tight and gave her a passionate kiss. Drustina almost melted in his arms and her heart thumped with passion for long moments before she recovered her wits.
“What was that for lover?” she asked, stepping back and grinning as she struggled to recover her breath.
“Just to say thank you again ... and because it’s nice.”
Drustina blushed and glanced self consciously at Arina who had an ear-splitting grin spread across her face. Drustina changed the subject to hide her embarrassment.
“So, I asked you, partner! Will we be able to re-victual there?”
“I should think so. We did before and I don’t know of any wars between Kriti and ... and wherever.” Torvel frowned as he gathered his thoughts then expressed them. “So who shall we say we are? Are we Maltese, Carthaginian or Iberian?”
“Or Celts,” Arina offered. “Kriti can’t possibly be at war with Britannia can they?”
Drustina sucked her cheek in thoughtfully.
“They wouldn’t know who I am if we say we’re Celts, recently passed through the newly opened straits of Gibral.”
“Seems like a good strategy,” Torvel agreed. “We could say we are exploring possible trade routes. After all we are heading for Egypt.”
A consensus was reached and they decided to head for the westernmost tip of Kriti before deciding when and where to turn south east for Egypt and the fabled River Nile. Once the course was agreed, Arina took the first watch while Torvel and Drustina spooned together under the newly fashioned little cuddy that also served as a wave-breaker up forward. Two days later, with the Maistros wind blowing due south out of the Ionian Sea, The Angry Mermaid made excellent speed as a broad reach pushed her along. It was easy pleasant sailing to Kastellt, a port Torvel had last seen as a free man before setting off back to the west and falling foul of the corsairs. As the Mermaid sailed sedately around Cape Vouxa to avoid attracting attention and then south into the shelter of the Kassamou bay, Torvel felt a shudder as he remembered the events that had followed his last passing of that cape. This time however, he was heading for safety and a friendly country. In the middle of the afternoon Torvel brought the ship alongside and several pairs of curious eyes fell to studying the strange ship as the fair skinned foreign crew made her fast. Then a smallish horse stepped obediently ashore to be exercised. An official came down from the town and Torvel made pretence of being the captain as he completed the formalities of landing.
The officials asked what news he had but he declared that they had come straight from Cartagena in Iberia and they had little news to dispense. They slept aboard overnight to deter thieves from stealing from the ship then in the morning they used old Roman coinage to pay for the new victuals. The coins were gold and therefore still viable currency in any country. By noon, the Mermaid was revictualled and they were on their way again. Early afternoon found them approaching Cape Krios before deciding whether to go east under the shelter of Kriti or to steer straight for the River Nile. As they were approaching the cape, they spotted another sail appear from around the cape, beating northwards into the increasing northerly Meltemi wind. Drustina watched the ship yawing and pitching awkwardly as she tacked clumsily in the increasingly heavy seaway.
“She’s giving herself a beating isn’t she?” Drustina observed casually. “You’d think she’d wait for the wind to change. She’s not built for close hauled work with that rig.”
Drustina turned to attend to her own ship as the wind increased around the headland when Torvel turned and remarked.
“She’s got company; look there’s two more ships a mile or so astern of her.”
Three ships together could easily pose a threat and everybody on The Mermaid knew it. Six eyes turned to watch the flotilla as the Mermaid altered to starboard and sped south to pass west of them. Drustina felt that despite her speed, it was safer for the Mermaid not to get trapped between three ships and the rocky shore.
As they watched Arina spoke softly: “I don’t think those two smaller ships are friendly to the bigger one. Look how they’re closing in ... and are those archers with bows drawn, I can see on the nearest carrack?”
They watched with increasing curiosity until Torvel spoke suddenly.
“Shit! Isn’t that the ship that sailed from Carthage with the bloody Bishop? I thought he was staying in Malta for a while.”
Drustan and Arina stared a bit longer before concluding Torvel might be right. The ship did look familiar. As they watched, they saw one of the smaller carracks cut in right under the stern of the merchant ship and fire a salvo of arrows.
“That wasn’t friendly,” Torvel observed. “They look like pirates or men-of-war or something. Whatever they are, that was not friendly.”
“Well if that’s the Bishop Alviar aboard the merchantman then I say good riddance if they capture the ship. It’ll be a fitting end if they capture him and ransom him or better still kill him.”
Torvel’s eyes widened with censure.
“Tut, tut, Dru - strong words. D’you still hate him?”
“Fuck me Torvel, what do you think? He stole my children from me - well, he caused us to be separated and that’s the same thing!”
Torvel quickly realised just how hurt Drustina was by the loss of her babies and he extended his arms yet again as more tears started to flow. It seemed the once-boy warrior would never recover from the seeming theft of her twin babies. That loss was the worst possible harm a woman could endure, and she was now a woman. He squeezed her to him as Arina watched and tears also came to her eyes. Arina missed the babies as well. It was obviously a mother - baby - woman thing and as a man, a father even, Torvel would never be able to plumb those same emotional depths. He felt the sobs coming in deep heaving breaths as Drustina yet again relived the loss.
Arina gently inveigled herself between Drustina and the tiller as she nodded to Torvel to take Drustina and lay her down in the little forward cuddy. Torvel understood and soon Drustina was crying piteously as she lay on the small bed that they had made up from spare sails. After Torvel had comforted her, Drustina quickly fell into a light sleep. Torvel returned to the tiller to talk to Arina and study the three approaching ships. Even as they watched, the fat merchant-man hauled around and struggled to make easting to close with the Mermaid.
“What’s he doing?” Arina whispered so as not to disturb Drustina.
“It looks as though he’s trying to close with us. Look that was another salvo of arrows. Those carracks mean business. I think he’s looking for company and protection.”
“What shall we do?”
“Well we’d better wake Dru again.”
“Shit! She’s only just got to sleep.”
“It’s a danger situation. We’ll have to, besides there’s still only three of us. We’ll need all hands if those carracks try to close with us.”
Reluctantly, Torvel went forward and gently dragged Drustina to wakefulness. Drustina mumbled resentfully: “Leave me alone.”
“Sorry darling, we’ve got trouble out here and you’re still the captain.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s that damned merchant ship. She’s trying to close with us for protection.”
As Torvel finished speaking Arina called from the tiller.
“They’re trying to signal us.”
“Which one?” Torvel asked.
“The merchant ship. They’re waving to us.”
Drustina growled irritably and rose from her makeshift bed. She joined Arina at the tiller and stared hard at the shouting men.
“What do you think?” she asked the other two.
“It is Alviar’s ship,” Arina observed.
“Well let him rot then. It’ll do him good to know what being treated like a criminal is. I hope they capture him and torture him and burn him just like he did to those poor women.”
“He’s not the only person on the ship Dru,” Torvel warned. “There are other honest seamen like us. They don’t deserve to be captured.”
Arina nodded agreement and Drustina was outvoted. Reluctantly she brought the Mermaid about and closed rapidly with the harassed merchant ship. The pursuing carracks were determined not to lose their prize now it was almost in their grasp and they fired a salvo of arrows at the Mermaid to try and deter her interference.
Most arrows fell short but a couple strayed far enough to strike harmlessly against the Mermaid’s high bow.
“Cheeky bastards!” Drustina cursed as she went forward to dig out her battle bow.
Within seconds the carrack realised they had found an infinitely more formidable enemy as a long arrow slammed deep into an officer’s chest and took him overboard with its force. He had been standing high in the bow of the carrack urging his piratical cronies forward. His armour took him swiftly down and out of sight beneath the waves. A second arrow killed the man at the steering oar and the pirate ship swiftly turned tail. His partner ship immediately realised they had bitten off more than they could chew and took the same course of action. For good measure, Drustina loosed a few arrows over the merchantman and into the crew of the second ship. She didn’t think she had hit anybody but the force of the arrows convinced the second pirate ship that discretion was the better part of valour.
As the carracks turned and fled the mood aboard the merchant ship calmed and suddenly Drustina recognised the individual who had emerged from the cabin now the danger was passed.
It was the detestable Bishop Alviar!
The opportunity was just too good to miss and it would never present itself again. They were fighting two pirate ships and Drustina was still firing arrows at the second carrack.
‘Surely she could misfire occasionally’ she thought and the temptation was just too much. She called to Arina to turn to pursue the pirates and Arina responded immediately. The Mermaid heeled over and Drustina seemingly lost her footing just as she loosed her arrow. The deadly missile appeared to fly awry. The arrow sped low across the waves and ‘unfortunately’ whistled through into the men gathered on the merchantman’s deck. The Bishop slammed backwards like a pole-axed steer. The arrow had unfortunately slashed him straight across the throat before speeding on its flight and slamming into the mast.
Drustina sets out on the last lap to Egypt and the Nile
The Angry mermaid 26.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 26.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
A loud shout erupted from the merchant ship but the Angry Mermaid was already speeding away in pursuit of the carracks. She quickly overhauled them then Arina manoeuvred their ship to separate the pair with the skill of a lioness separating its chosen victim from the herd. Torvel turned to Drustina after watching the panic ensue aboard the selected carrack.
“What d’you intend to do with them?”
“Capture them.”
“Bloody hell Drustina, there must still be a dozen of them remaining on that ship how the hell d’you intend to capture twelve men?”
Drustina shrugged, nodded to Arina and called...
“Take her a little closer Arry; I want to make all my shots count.”
“Shit lady, d’you intend to kill them all?” Torvel protested.
“No lover, just thin them out so that their numbers are manageable.”
Torvel wagged his head and smiled as his lover loosed another deadly arrow. Another man on the carrack fell to the deck and Torvel watched in admiration. He was well aware of Drustina’s skill with a bow. He had seen her many times at the butts practicing and sometimes even occasionally defeating her famous sister Queen Aiofe with her famous long Celtic bow.
Aiofe’s ‘longbow’ had the greater range and accuracy but Drustina’s shorter ‘battle bow’ was every bit as deadly at the shorter ranges just before soldiers engaged in ‘hand-to-hand’ combat.
Drustina was demonstrating that skill now and another fell even as the carrack decided it might as well turn to face the Mermaid and make a fight of it. Arina was well used to these situations and simply manoeuvred the Mermaid around the carrack to keep her at the critical range allowing Drustina to keep up her attrition. The crew of the carrack cursed and screamed as more men fell. Eventually, the remaining officer fit to command cried for quarter. Drustina nodded to the wily Arina who was already bringing the Mermaid about. Torvel drew his sword and Drustina made hers obvious whilst still training her deadly bow on the attackers. As they drew close the three companions got a good look into the carrack’s deep well deck. There seemed to be no hidden crew so they decided to hail the man at the steering oar of the pirate vessel. Torvel bellowed across the water.
“Make a course to follow that fat merchantman you were so greedy to capture and don’t try any tricks!”
The acting captain obeyed immediately and as Alviar’s ship approached the port of Kastellt, the pirate carrack and the Mermaid fell in beside her. The captain of Alviar’s ship called across: “A hundred thankyou's sir! What ship are you?”
Drustina called back: “Did not your passenger tell you?”
“Who, the Bishop Alviar? He cannot speak sir; your arrow nicked his throat and cut his voice.”
“Oh I’m dreadfully sorry. I thought my faulty shot had killed him. And I’m a lady by the way!”
“Oh! Sorry ma'am. I will offer my full thanks for your assistance when we dock.”
Drustina hugged herself with silent ecstasy. Her arrow could not have done more good if it had been fired by the Goddess of war, Agrona herself.
When the three ships arrived at Kastellt, the three companions stood off in Mermaid while first the merchant ship docked to file his report. Then the shore authorities signalled to the Mermaid to release her prisoner and Drustina instructed the pirate ship to dock where indicated. As a troop of soldiers arrested the remaining crew, the Angry Mermaid finally returned to the same quay she had departed only that same morning. The captain of the port and the Captain of the guard eagerly awaited the Mermaid’s report so Drustina explained how her ship had been forced to alter course suddenly to pursue the pirate pair and she had been thrown off balance just as she released her bow. Hence the accidental stray shot.
Her apology and her report were accepted, for the capture of the pirate ship was deemed of far more local importance than the injury of a foreign bishop. The pirates had been a thorn in the side of the authorities for a several years. The Bishop’s wound was ascribed to the misfortunes of war and pursuit. Arina however was pretty sure there was more than met the eye.
She approached Drustina as Torvel went ashore to exchange courtesies with the captain of the ship they had just saved. The first thing he had to do was convey Drustina’s apologies for the accident and explain that Drustina felt a little embarrassed about the misfortune. As Torvel met with the other, Arina quietly took Drustina to task as they tidied up the deck.
“That was an unfortunate shot,” Arina grinned.
“Yes. A terrible accident,” Drustina agreed. “Now the man will never be able to speak again.”
“Yeah! And never be able to preach again,” Arina smirked.
Drustina smiled and bent down to hide the smirk by ‘busying herself’ with folding the end of the sail.
Arina moved in closer as she sniggered privately: “Go on, tell me how the hell you did it. Nobody can be that accurate - close enough to cut a man’s voice box and yet not slice open his wind pipe nor spear his neck. Go on, explain.”
“It was just an accident. Honestly, a lucky accident! I’m sorry, just one of those things.”
“Yeah and the Goddess Dramas just happens to kiss my arse! Come on Drustina, this is Arina you’re talking to, your only remaining true female friend. I’ve been with you through thick and thin. How the hell did you pull off a shot like that?”
Drustina frowned. It would be much better if nobody knew the truth. She had wanted to murder the brute who had caused her to forsake her children. The arrow had been aimed for his heart not his bloody Adam’s apple. Even now, even after the man’s poisonous tongue had been stopped for good, Drustina did not feel safe. The man still had a poisonous pen, poisonous ink, and even poisonous paper ... but above all, he had a poisonous mind.
Even while the Bishop was being taken to a healer, Drustina was wondering how to finish the man. How to destroy the beast who had brought her so much hurt. The monster who had separated her from her beloved twins.
Eventually the Mermaid was shipshape and the friends decided to delay the restart of their voyage until the following morning. Besides, the captain of Alviar’s ship had invited them to eat with them as a way of saying ‘thank you’ for their assistance. Drustina did not feel up to it; the very idea of stepping on the same boards that her most hated enemy had recently trod was too much for her to stomach.
“You go,” she told Torvel and Arina, “I can’t face it. That butcher’s face haunts me all the time. I’ll turn in early here and take first watch in the morning when we leave. Give my apologies to the captain.”
Reluctantly, Torvel and Arina stepped the few hundred paces along the quay to the other ship while Drustina made pretence of turning in. Immediately darkness fell, Drustina slipped ashore armed with her sword, her dagger, her bow and other bits of equipment for creating mayhem and murder; notably some ropes. It was an easy job to find the hospital and locate the Bishop lying drugged in his bed while recovering from his wound. Hatred burned in Drustina’s heart as visions of her beloved twins floated before her. She looked down one last time at the face that had brought her so much hurt and made her decision with cold determination. An abiding hatred overwhelmed her and she could show no mercy!
Drustina took some lengths of cord while the comatose Bishop lay in a drugged stupor and she gently tied his hands and feet loosely to the sides of his bed. It was then an easy job to hold a pillow over the man’s face and suffocate him. The man struggled feebly for he was already drugged but he was, of course, unable to scream for his vocal chords were cut. It was a few short minutes before the man lay dead.
“Sweet dreams you bastard,” she whispered to the corpse. “Let us see if your God can resurrect you like that holy man you preach about. I always thought it was a pack of lies.”
She slipped the cords and tidied up the scene. By the forensic standards of those times, she left the scene clear of any evidence and returned to her beloved Mermaid. Torvel and Arina found her sleeping heavily whilst cuddled up to Seripatese in the little bow cuddy when they returned at the middle hour.
At dawn the news emerged from the hospital that the wounded bishop had died in the night, possibly from some breathing complications related to the wound in his throat.
Drustina’s story was not known by any in Kriti for the captain of the merchantman had only been employed to ferry Alviar back to Cypru. Alviar had been too embarrassed to reveal the real reason he had been ‘fired’. The captain had never met Drustina or the other crewmen from the Angry Mermaid so there was no known connection between Drustina and Alviar. Consequently, no suspicion fell upon Drustina’s shoulders and after speaking to the captain that following morning, she conveyed her apologies for her being too sick (with woman’s problems!) to attend the ‘thank you’ supper. The Angry Mermaid added some more victuals and water to her stores and resumed her passage to Egypt.
As the ship cleared Cape Krios on the western tip of Kriti, Drustina stood with one hand around Seripatese’s neck whilst wondering if she’d ever see her babies or her sisters again. Then she caught Arina’s tearful eye and realised the wrench must be even more brutal for the younger girl. She had no living family at all and only her two companions to give her succour. Drustina nodded her head imperceptibly and Arina got the message. Torvel was busy at the tiller but he noticed the interplay and glanced understandingly as the younger girl pressed into the embrace of Drustina’s spare arm.
‘Poor little kid’ he thought as Drustina turned to catch his eye.
“East by south is it, Dru?”
“Aye. Why not? This wind’s an easy wind and Sleipner’s tails look set for a few days of it. I don’t think we’ll have any bad stuff.”
“Well we’re used to it,” Arina ventured as she peered tearfully up from Drustina’s embrace, “we’ve sailed in a lot worse than this.”
“Yes Arry, but not with a mare for company. I don’t know how Seripatese will take if it gets too rough.”
“She looks happy there now with your arm around her neck.”
As if she understood Arina’s every word, Seripatese turned, stretched around Drustina’s bust, and nuzzled Arina’s shoulder. Arina giggled and the tears stopped.
“There, she agrees with me, see.”
Drustina smiled, reached over Seripatese’s withers and scooped a handful of corn from the box attached to the mast. Arina accepted some of it and fed it to the mare. The mare snuffled eagerly at the titbits and both girls smiled contentedly. It was almost as if they had gathered another member to their little clan. Then Drustina prepared the large palliace and gently urged Seripatese to her knees. The mare seemed to sense that it was for her benefit and lowered herself onto the cushioned mattress. There she might have to stay alternately standing and lying for three or perhaps even four days. It was a long way to the famed mouth of the great Nile River.
They settled down to a steady passage and the three of them savoured the easy, steady favourable north-westerly wind. On the third day they decided to stand off during the night because the low lying African coast was an invitation to disaster if a navigator approached too close in darkness without local knowledge. There was no definitive outline and without a moon to help them they could be in trouble amongst breakers even before they realised they were approaching a lee shore. In any case, they were in no hurry. They had no clear destination and no certain landmarks save the fact that the Port of Alexandria was still reputed to have a tall lighthouse at the entrance to the port - the famed Pharos light.
The following morning they found themselves in fog and they sighed impatiently as they felt their way very slowly through the eerie mist whilst listening for breaking seas and sounding for the bottom as they picked their way eastwards. Eventually, Arina found bottom at about fifteen fathoms and they hove to while they listened for the faintest noise of breaking seas. They heard nothing and decided they were over a very shallow shelving bottom and this caused them to conclude they must be over the off-shore deposition area of the Nile Delta. All day they probed through the fog using their vital lode-stone whilst cursing the bad visibility. They were little better off by evening despite Arina having armed her lead several times until she eventually found muddy silt particles in the sample tallow. They all examined it and concluded that it seemed to resemble the reports of the Nile Delta being rich black earth. As darkness defeated them again, they anchored for the night.
In the morning Seripatese awoke them with her whinnying. The wind had changed to a warm southerly air and she had smelt the scent of grass and corn growing on the rich delta farms. The warm wind had also dispersed the fog and Torvel was relieved to make out the faint, low-lying outline of the delta shore. He woke Drustina with the news.
“Well I’m presuming that’s Egypt but which way is Alexandria?” wondered a bleary eyed Drustina as she still rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Torvel smiled indulgently. He had been up first to answer his call of nature.
“Uuuhmm - I’m thinking that might be a pointer!”
“Wha-! Oh, shit yes.” Drustina blinked disbelievingly. “By the gods, that bloody thing’s huge. I must have been blind or something!”
The three stood admiring the immense structure of the Pharos light, trying to estimate its height. They quickly gave up for they had no idea how far they were from the low-lying faintly visible shore line. There was no doubt in their minds however - the tower was definitely the Pharos. With renewed strength and navigational certainty they weighed anchor and picked their way cautiously inshore.
“What about sandbanks and reefs?” Arina asked.
“Just keep sounding darling, at least the bottom’s unlikely to be rocky. Look at those fields they must stretch for miles!”
“I think I can see the city now,” Torvel called down from his high perch astride the yard.
“So which way?”
“Leave the Pharos to port but steer to pass close. It marks the east side of the entrance at the end of a long breakwater. There’s a smaller tower marking the western side of an even longer wall.”
Reassured, Drustina set a bit more sail and the Mermaid picked her way with more certainty. Before entering the great harbour, they slowed right down. Although the area of harbour enclosed by the long breakwaters was vast, with plenty of room to manoeuvre, there was nothing to be gained by revealing the Mermaid’s secrets of speed and manoeuvrability. Eventually they reached an empty stretch of quay and they carefully approached, hoping to gain berthing instructions. Shortly thereafter, a man on a horse trotted up and motioned to them to dock. Seripatese called eagerly and the horse ashore answered. Drustina smiled and turned to Torvel: “Well those two seem to understand each other. Let’s see how good the man’s Latin is.”
Drustina called and the man answered clearly as he explained exactly how and where to set the ropes. Once the Mermaid was fast, the mooring master presented himself and Drustina declared the Mermaid’s particulars. The man’s eyes widened with respect as Drustina declared her passage history and he scanned Torvel and Drustina’s fair hair before his gaze fastened on Arina’s lustrous red locks. Arina’s hair still shone after four days at sea being doused in salt spray.
“Celts by God. The King will be interested to meet you; the Pillars of Hercules you say!”
Drustina nodded and the man invited them to bring Seripatese ashore: “I’m sure your horse will savour a run to stretch her legs.”
“Yes sir. Yes, she will indeed. My companion Arina would ride her out to the fields for some fresh fodder if you please. I’m sure one of the many farms we saw as we entered would sell us some fresh food for her.”
“They’ll be glad to,” the mooring-master replied as he studied Seripatese with a knowledgeable eye.
“Nice mare that, where does she come from?”
“She’s of the Camargue marshes in Gaul but King Appotel of Iberia granted her to me as a trade for services rendered.”
The mooring master watched appreciatively as Arina rode off along the quay to some farm houses just beyond the root of the western arm of the breakwater.
“She has an intelligent eye and a lovely nature. If I could breed from her I would pay you handsomely for her foal. I have a fine horse and other mares back at my home farm. I breed horses as a pastime.”
“That sounds interesting sir.”
“Very good. I’ll report your arrival, you are a new visitor and the King will be keen for any news.”
Drustina had one last request: “Have you any labour to help us clean up my ship? I’m afraid my mare is not so clever as to clean up her own shit.”
The man smiled: “Have no fear. Horse shit is welcomed by all the farmers on the delta. There’ll be a farm-hand along shortly.
That’s a goodly pile.”
“Yeah, and it stinks!” Torvel added.
“Why didn’t you dump it overboard?”
“As you said sir, it’s valuable stuff.”
“Now there speaks a farmer not a sailor. I’ll be back when the Pharos sets the third flash of the post meridian. You’ll see the great reflector now flashing its eighth ante meridian signal. There is a list of dos and don’ts posted on the harbourmaster's wall. The port charges are also listed there as well. See you later if the King doesn’t invite you to go up and see him. Oh, and by the way, I’ll mind your ship. I’ve got several mooring men to watch the quays.”
The mooring master laughed and departed as Torvel and Drustina set about tidying up the deck.
“Seems a cheerful kind of guy,” Torvel remarked as Drustina and he sluiced down the stained woodwork where Seripatese had necessarily done her business.
“Yeah let’s wait and see. Early days yet. Ah, here comes Arina with Seripatese. I swear my little mare shits more every day.”
“Ahh, go on! You know you love her, you wouldn’t be without her.”
Arina arrived with a large bundle of fresh fodder across Seripatese’s back and she tethered the mare to a ringbolt set in the stone quay. Once the Mermaid was cleaned up they decided to go for a stroll in the city, when they returned there was a courtier waiting on the quay and feeding Seripatese from the bundle of fresh fodder.
“Ah. Good afternoon, you’ll be the crew of this ship?”
“We are sir and who might you be?” Drustina answered
“I’m the Deputy Chamberlain. The King requires your attendance and asks of any news you might have to offer. You are required to attend at the dinner when the sixth post meridian signal is flashed from the Pharos. That’s also when the fire is lit in the lantern for night signals.”
“What, all three of us? Who will guard our ship?”
“It was unguarded when I arrived here. Where were you?”
“Looking around the city. Besides it was daylight and the mooring master happens by pretty often, he said he’d look after it or have his men keep an eye.”
Torvel did a quick check and confirmed that nothing was missing. The Chamberlain nodded with satisfaction and offered to post a guard. As they had become guests of the King, they were entitled to the King’s protection and hospitality. The Chamberlain handed them a pass to the palace and left. Drustina turned to Arina.
“I haven’t got a decent gown have you?”
“No and I stink of horse shit. We’ll have to go back into town.”
“And I suppose that means I’ll have to guard the ship until the palace guard arrives.” Torvel sighed. “You’d best hurry, it’ll be dark soon.”
The girls needed little encouragement and returned immediately to the market whence they’d come. At the fifth signal from the Pharos two guardsmen arrived and Torvel explained the situation. As he did so the mooring master appeared as he made his way home.
“Will that horse be tethered there all night?”
“Unless her mistress releases her, yes.”
“So I’d better wait then.”
“You seem keen to get your hands on her.”
“I’ll be honest sir, I do. She’s a damned fine mare. I dearly want to put her to my stallion.”
“Well she’ll be back shortly. We’ve had an invite to the palace. These guardsmen will be attending the ship.”
“Good. I’ll wait if you've no objections.”
Torvel nodded agreeably and they chatted while the guardsmen settled on the packed sails.
“So it’s her, the woman who’s actually the captain, not you?”
Torvel nodded dismissively. It was always best to play down such an unusual circumstance. The mooring master persisted: “How did that come about, is she royalty or something?”
Torvel nodded again, thus giving no more than the minimum information. He was not about to give away Drustina’s secrets.
“So what brought you to Egypt?”
“Ivory mainly.” Torvel replied sticking to their pre-prepared story. “That and seeking to establish new trade routes.” Torvel continued to keep his answers to a minimum.
“Ivory? What d’you want to know of ivory?”
“It’s her favourite commodity. There are openings for its use in the north. Decorative and for making instruments.”
“Instruments? What sort of instruments?”
“Navigation mainly. We need to refine our methods, especially if we are to trade through the Pillars of Hercules.”
The mooring master nodded. That at least was plausible and if these Celts were prepared to trade beyond the Pillars of Hercules then they would surely bring much knowledge and advancement with that trade. Such trading would benefit the traders and city of Alexandria enormously. Little was known of the northern iron but much was talked of it and it's wonderous properties.
With his curiosity about the voyagers satisfied they fell to talking about horses and breeding. The guards joined in with them and they chatted at length until Drustina and Arina returned.
“You took long enough girls.” Torvel grinned.
“We were shopping, what d’you expect? Besides we also had to find a bath-house. It’s late in the day for ladies to bathe and we had to bribe the attendant. I’ve also bought you a new tunic, that one’s filthy.”
Torvel frowned, he still stank from the voyage so he had the girls turn a blind eye while he took a dip in the harbour just to freshen up and remove the bulk of the horse shit still clinging to his body from cleaning up after Seripatese.
As Torvel bathed, Drustina struck a deal regarding the stabling of Seripatese until they had leave to sail the Mermaid up the Nile to the Nubian Kingdoms. The mooring master had a stud farm just outside the city. After fixing the stabling arrangements, they fell to chatting about Drustina’s plans to sail up the Nile.
“Why d’you want to go up there?” The mooring master wondered. “There’s plenty of ivory coming down the Nile.”
“I want to see some of those fabled animals of Nubia.”
“We’ve got those too. We have a famed menagerie in Alexandria.”
“I’ve also heard they have queens who lead their armies.”
“Oh yes, that’s true. There was the famous Queen Amanitare, she lost an eye in battle and there have been plenty more since her. But we are at peace with the three kingdoms now.”
“All the more reason to travel. Until I visit their kingdoms I won’t be sure of spotting all the trading opportunities.”
“Well if you do find trade and wish to return down the Nile with cargo you know there is a river tax to pay if you are not an Egyptian or Nubian ship.”
“So, there is still profit to be made. Ivory is a valuable cargo plus all the spices and oils to be found in the hot climes. Besides, it will benefit Egypt if the trade is established.”
The mooring master nodded agreement as Torvel emerged from the water.
“Well I’d best be going and I’ll take the mare now if you’re agreeable. I’m keen to see what foal she produces.”
One of the guards was also a keen horseman and he was interested in the white Carmaque mare. He also lived near the stud farm so he accompanied the mooring master home to his small farm while a change of watch enabled the other guard to escort the trio to the palace.
The three companions have Landed in Alexandria, (Egypt) and after meeting with the authorities, they start to make preparations for Drustina to visit the Queen of Nobatia and learn of statesmanship, female style.
Ancient city of Alexandria
THE ANGRY MERMAID 27
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
The guard escorted them through the maze of streets to emerge onto a large square with a canal running down one side. On the other side of the canal stood what was obviously the palace connected to the town by an ornate bridge. The escorting guard introduced the trio to the bridge sentries and the written pass, endorsed by the deputy Chamberlin, enabled them to enter. The same man who had met them in the harbour appeared and led them through the maze of passages. Soon the three companions were standing in the king’s antechamber while the Chamberlin departed to declare their arrival. The three of them were admiring the pictures on the walls when a tall slender woman with delicate, fine features appeared from a large imposing side door. She spoke Latin as did all the seemingly educated Egyptians.
“You’ll be the Celtic visitors from beyond the Pillars of Hercules.”
The three nodded and introduced themselves before the woman advised them she was the King’s sister. Drustina and Arina were impressed that a woman of such high position should meet them without recourse to guards or escorts attending upon her.
“Dinner is about to be served, I’ll introduce you to my brother.”
They entered a highly decorated dining hall and noticed that it was not full of tables — just a small setting at the other end of the hall. A group of people were standing in a huddle around the tables and they turned to meet the visitors. A youngish effeminate man emerged from the group and addressed them.
“So you are the visitors my Chamberlin talked of. I am King Astos. I see you’ve met my sister Queen Amitor. You will have realised we are twins.”
“Yes Your Majesty.”
“Oh there’s no need to address us as your majesty. I am but little more than a governor serving the Byzantine emperor. Egypt has long been subjugated by the Romans. When the old Roman Empire decayed we ended up being ruled by the Byzantine emperors. I do little but serve our masters in Constantinople. They only call us king and queen because our people are loath to let go of our Pharoic history. Come let us eat. I am interested in your story.”
The trio sat at the places indicated and soon the ‘king’ and his sister ‘queen’ were pumping them for information. Both Torvel and Drustina noted it was mostly asking for news of the Roman Empire and they learned that there was now some enmity between the old Romans and the Byzantines.
“How did you manage to travel without let or hindrance?”
Drustina exchanged significant looks with Torvel and Arina. It seemed it would be better if they did not tell the whole story. So far they had not lied but they had not revealed much of themselves and nothing about the Angry Mermaid’s secrets. Drustina revealed a little more about their journeyings but left by far the greater part unsaid.
“Uuuhmm, I have to say now your majesties that we did not travel without hindrance. We have been through some interesting times.”
“Go on,” the queen pressed, “there has been no news of late from the western end of the middle sea and precious little even from Constantinople. Communications have only resumed normality since the Barbary pirates were brought to heel by the Iberian King Appotel and even those communications have been little more than traders tales and messages. We have received no official communiqués for nearly two years. You must be able to tell of the pirate clearance for you would otherwise have not passed through the Straits of Gibral. You are the first traders to have reached us since those seas were cleared of the pirates.”
“But the Straits were cleared nearly two years ago my lady.” Torvel observed. “What has delayed the resumption of communications?”
“I’m afraid the breakdown between Constantinople and Rome has deterred traders from travelling freely. Only a few very bold adventurers have visited us. Such ships usually receive a less than friendly welcome if they have sailed from one or the other empires. There is not much traffic even between the two imperial seats of Constantinople and Rome. You seem to have bypassed all the issues.”
Torvel tactfully redirected the conversation away from their adventures.
“You say trading has much reduced but this church thing, this one god faith from Jerusalem seems to have spread without hindrance.”
Queen Amitor let out a snort of ironic laughter.
“Ha. It’s one god but the teachers are sorely divided. We are Copts, the Constantines are Orthodox and the Romans are Catholic. Half the trouble in the whole sea is caused by these religious schisms. Which faith are you?”
The trio fell silent. All three were wary of the treatment meted out by the catholic bishops of Rome to pagan people. King Astos glanced at his sister and nodded before turning to Drustina.
“I sense your reservation so I presume you are Pagan Celts. Don’t worry about it; we Copts are still in touch with our Pharoic roots. We are much more tolerant of other beliefs. We have Nubian traders coming down the Nile all the time ... some from the three kingdoms and some from even further south. The Nile is a very long river. Many of these traders who come from beyond Alwa, the Southern Nubian Kingdom, are animists and tree worshippers. We do not persecute them. This gentleman is the Nubian Ambassador for Nobatia the Northern Nubian Kingdom.”
The trio relaxed as a Nubian noble nodded affirmation. His skin was as black as the rich Delta Earth and Drustina made it her business to pump him for information about the famed Nubian queens. The conversation around the table proved stimulating and the trio were invited to stay at the palace for the duration of their visit. As guests they were once again accorded privileges while formalities for ascending the Nile were completed. Both the King and the Nubian ambassador explained that until the seasonal winds changed and the yearly flood had abated there was little chance of making headway up the river unless they employed sweepsmen. That was prohibitively expensive and the Mermaid had no provisions for oars.
They had been guests for about a moon when the first official ‘mail’ ship from Constantinople arrived with the favourable northern winds. It was the first government mail ship for the two years so much hustle and bustle accompanied its arrival. Piracy had been endemic on a large scale around the ‘choke points’ between the islands at either end of Kriti thus preventing safe access and egress to and from the Aegean Sea. This piracy was a clear pointer to the weakness of the imperial writ in Constantinople. The ‘Mermaid’s actions had done much to address the problem, simply by defying and capturing one pirate ship. The pirates now went in fear of the sudden appearance of this unknown vessel full of retribution.
The captain presented letters and news from the imperial city and those letters contained news of the events that had occurred in the Western sea in the past two years. The letters also mentioned a boat with three Celts who had done much to reopen the trade routes. They had disappeared after departing Kriti but the emperor was seeking them to thank them for their many services. For in re-opening the Western Middle Sea to the Western ocean and freeing the narrow straits of pirates, they had also eased the piracy problems in the Eastern Sea.
This was doubly true after their very first appearance in the Eastern Mediterranean had resulted in the defeat of a pair of pirate ships off Kriti and thus re-opened the Aegean Sea to the main body of the Eastern Middle Sea.
King Astos read the letters and smiled as he passed them to his sister.
“It seems our guests have been hiding their light under a bushel.”
Queen Amitor nodded. “I think a further interview with our friends is in order. It seems they are a bit more than just traders, more adventurers and explorers methinks.”
“I always thought that ship of theirs was a bit undersized for common trading.” Astos grinned.”I think we’ll invite them to dine with us.”
The summons arrived as the companions were preparing for lunch in their own apartment.
“Wonder what those two want now.” Arina mused.
“We’ll find out soon enough. Come on, let’s not keep them waiting.” Torvel finished as he cinched his belt and stood poised behind Drustina’s back.
“D’you want me to lace up your dress?”
“No. I prefer Arina, you cinch it too tight.”
Torvel slid his hand around her waist and stole a kiss on her neck as Arina watched somewhat enviously. Then Arina took Torvel’s place, laced the dress and they deemed themselves ready.
When they entered the office adjoining the throne room both brother and sister were seated at the partner table.
“Your majesties,” Drustina offered.
“Sit down please there is something we would like answered.”
The three companions tensed slightly and Torvel noticed the Imperial seal on the letters lying open on the table.
“Of what d’you wish to know sir?”
“These letters; they’re from the emperor, they tell of much that happened when the pirates were finally routed. They tell of three Celts and two Saxons. I am right I think in presuming that you are those Celts.”
Drustina lowered her eyes then peeped coquettishly from under her downturned lids.
“Uuuhmm, yes your majesty.”
Queen Amitor wagged her head and smiled.
“So why did you not tell of all this when you reported your voyage to us?”
“We were uncertain of our reception. Our experiences have taught us to be circumspect when declaring ourselves.”
King Astos nodded sagaciously.
“So you decided not to tell us that you are our cousin by marriage, not to mention all the good you have brought the middle sea.”
“How so my lord?” Drustina asked as her brow furrowed. “The improvements in the middle sea I can vouch for and give my account but how are we related?”
“My lady, I will call you my lady for you are, I have learned, ennobled.”
Amitor tapped the letter as Astos explained.
“These letters from the Emperor. They tell it all. Two years of clogged communications accumulated here. Two years of ships afraid to sail because of the piracy. Now all cleared because of you and that amazing ship ... and that sword ... and your uuhhm other, somewhat more delicate secret. It’s all here, in the letters ... so you are the strange Celt, the boy become girl, the man become woman, the brother sister to Queen Aiofe who is married to my second cousin Magab. The cousin I have not seen for years because of those dammned Barbary Pirates spreading like vermin across the whole middle sea ... the vermin you eradicated. You even indirectly eradicated the last lair when you saved that ship off Kriti. From the information my fellow governor of Kriti extracted from the vermin crew, they located the pirate’s nest and destroyed it. It’s all here in the emperor’s letters.”
“Then you know as much as we do sire,” Arina interjected. “Why d’you have to ask us?”
“Because. Because my young lady, third party reports are always full of speculation and rumour. I can get the truth straight from the horse’s mouth as it where. You will tell me the truth won’t you?”
“There’s nothing to hide sire,” Drustina replied. “We just don’t blow our own trumpets because it seems to invite unwanted attention.”
“That is laudable my lady. Firstly, I will follow the advice in the emperor’s letter and determine you are who this letter describes. Might I see your scar?”
Drustina scowled and refuse point blank to expose her body.
“No sire. When I was a lad it was cause for much amusement though also much certainty. My scar truly identified me and Kings first laughed then congratulated me, but I was a lad then and baring one’s arse was what boys were want to do. I am a woman now and modesty prevails.”
Astos grinned and nodded.
“Very well then, perhaps not to the king but certainly to the queen, my sister. It may seem a tiresome ritual to you but there’s no more certain way of proving your credentials. These letters tell of a remarkable warrior who bears many scars; now that seems hardly credible when I cast eyes upon the beautiful ladies before me. My sister can establish the facts every bit as thoroughly as I.”
Drustina admired the king’s tact when he had said ‘ladies’ and thereby including Arina. Arina was now growing into a beautiful girl with her stunning red hair and green eyes and she had every right to be included in any communion where beauty was being debated.
“So,” Queen Amitor inquired, “shall we retire to my private chambers and remove all doubt of your identity?”
Drustina shrugged and followed the queen into her rooms. After closing the door to her private bed chamber, Amitor turned rather nervously.
“Is it true, you were once a boy?”
“You’ll see now when I raise my dress.”
“Am I safe here alone?” Amitor grinned.
“It’s your call; it’s your bed chamber.”
“Very well then young lady let’s see what all this business is about. And I would like the full story.”
Drustina sighed somewhat wearily for she thought she had put all that behind her. The whole idea of coming to Egypt and the Nubian kingdoms was to escape all the hype and hysteria. She hoped to escape her past and start anew posing as a Celtic venturer looking for new trade. Now yet another audience wanted to hear of all the sagas. She frowned at Amitor and sucked her cheeks.
“You want the full story! How long have you got?”
“I’ve read the letters. They give a pretty exhaustive account, I’m just curious about your life and your versions of the events reported to my brother and I in the Emperor’s letters. We simply want to establish who you are. The letters tell of many scars but especially the long scar on your bottom.”
“You’ll have to unlace my bodice if you are to see all the scars.”
Amitor grinned and held out her hands motioning Drustina to present her back. As Drustina did so Amitor chuckled.
“If you turned your back on me publically, I could have you put to death for insulting the queen.”
“Then needs must I would resume carrying my sword. Taking me a prisoner would then cost your palace guard dear.”
“It tells of that in the letters as well; your swordsmanship and your skills with Ta Seti.”
“Ta Seti; what’s that?”
"Well orignally, Ta seti was a province of Nobatia where the people were famous for their bowmanship. Indeed the province is still there and the people are still excellent archers. There name has extended to the secrets of archery and now we call bomanship, Ta Seti."
“Bowmanship; Arina repeated," I see.
“Oh, that!" drustina added. "My sister Aiofe is better, she has a better bow and she’s more accurate.”
“Oh, humble as well as dangerous. I'll have to watch you. Always be wary of those who understate their abilities There, that’s the laces loosed.”
Drustina reached under her bust-line and freed the little buttons to release the bodice. Finally the bodice came off and
Amitor’s eyes widened with surprise as Drustina’s breasts bounced free. She noticed the large nipples that revealed Drustina to have once breast fed a child. Amitor searched into Drustina’s eyes.
“You have had a child!”
A cloud crossed Drustina’s face and Amitor recognised the hurt.
“And you lost it!” She finished sympathetically.
“No! I didn’t! I didn’t ‘LOSE’ it! I was forced to abandon them; driven from them by those of your faith, the three-godders.”
“Them? How many have you had? And don’t blame our faith, we are Copts, the Bishop who tried to kill you was of the Roman persuasion. So go on; how many children have you had?
“Two. Twins! Torvel’s children.”
“My God, TWO! And you not yet seventeen. Oh I’m so sorry. Where are they now?”
“Aiofe has them. So at least they are well cared for. Anyway, I would have thought all that would have been in the letters. Drustina the freak, Drustina the monster, Drustina the blasphemy, Drustina the sorceress. Drustina; whatever else.”
“It mentions all of that but nothing of children.”
“Then there’s some plot afoot. Some plot to deprive me of my children forever.”
“Yes it would seem so.” Amitor agreed.
With these words, Drustina finally stripped to her skin and Amitor’s eyes widened, partly with surprise, partly with sympathy and partly from lust when she set eyes on Drustina’s masculinity. She stepped forward and gently ran her fingers over the myriad minor scars before slowly exploring the two larger ones; the long slash down her inner forearm and the mighty gash that almost cleaved her buttock. Drustina bent over and Amitor’s fingers delicately traced the scar down under Drustina’s buttock where it finished at the very portal of Drustina’s modesty. She gave an oath as she realised that the reports of Drustina’s duality were true.
Finally she stepped back and stared into Drustina’s eyes.
“My God girl! You really have seen some action and you’ve born two children as well. Are the others marked like you?”
“No. Arina was a girl from birth so she was never required to fight and never did so except to fire arrows from a distance. She has been in action though, the wars against the Barbary Pirates. She saw plenty of death and danger. We have been together for several years now.
Torvel has several scars but he’s a man. Apart from the honourable scars of battle he also sports the shameful scars of slavery, the cuts of the galley-slave lash across his back. For all that shame implies, I love him, I truly love him! I know him to be brave and steadfast.”
“Yes, it tells of those slavery scars in the letters.”
“Then we have no more secrets. May I dress now, you’ve seen everything.”
“Indeed I have, including ... that!”
Drustina followed Amitor’s stare down to her masculinity and shrugged.
“It won’t harm you. My girl parts assure any other women of my understanding of the horror of rape for I am a woman also.”
“Yes. I am shocked and envious, I saw your femininity when I investigated Blueface’s scar. It must be amazing to share both delights.”
“I prefer the female delights, except the pain of birth. That’s a bloody nightmare. The motherhood that follows is a wonderful fulfilment but even that was eventually denied me by those bloody holy men. Those inhumane monsters!”
As Drustina re-dressed Amitor asked her shyly.
“What does a male pleasure feel like?”
“It’s very short and very powerful. Like a bow being released slowly.”
“Which do you prefer, the boy pleasure or the girl one?”
“They come at one and the same time. My boy part is also my girl part insofar as girls only have a little bud. My masculinity is an overgrown bud. I don’t have a separate bud as it were.”
“So what happens, you know ... when you and Torvel join?”
“We enjoy it like any other pair except he has to take me from behind, my male parts get crushed if he tries it from the front.”
“Have you ever... you know; used your male parts ... like a man?”
“No.”
“What about Arina? She’s an attractive girl.”
“We will do it one day, when Arina is good and ready. We’ve always known we were destined for each other.”
“So what does Torvel think?”
“Torvel is like most men, he thinks only with his dick! He sees it as ‘having’ two women.”
“And will he ... you know? Is Arina attracted to him? He’s quite a handsome fellow.”
“If Arina wants him she’ll make it known.”
“What like some cat on heat?”
Drustina was shocked by the queen's remark.
“That’s a horrible thing to say! She’s not like that at all. For a girl so young, Arina’s seen as much as me, possibly even worse. She actually saw her father and her brothers being slaughtered! I was at least spared that. I only came back to find my village being attacked. I never actually saw my family being put to the sword. Arina saw her mother and older sisters being raped. It was only her age that saved her from such a terrible fate. I had the privilege of saving my older sister and my twin sister Mabina was with me when we arrived to find our village in flames. The only difference being is that I don’t know what happened to my middle sister Tara.
We have both suffered but hers was the greater loss. Arina’s a wonderful girl, she’s not some sort of animal. Is that how you three-godders see us? How can you dare say that! Take it back!”
Amitor’s smile faded into an apology as she realised she had overstepped the mark. Her own suppressed sexuality had led her to think that pagans were equally licentious and liberal with their favours. Obviously it was not so and she realised that the stories the priests told of pagan hedonism were not true. She teared up as she realised her presumptive mistake and apologised profusely.
“I’m so sorry Drustina. The reports dwell so much upon your deeds and victories that they forget what other horrors you must have endured. To lose your whole family and not know what their ultimate fates might be must be horrible. I have lived such a sheltered life here in the palace. My brother and I have never known hardship. I’m so sorry!”
Drustina smiled and nodded knowingly. She held out her arms and Amitor fell into them.
“All my life the priests have told us that Pagans are cruel, wild creatures, who will be cast into hell for not knowing g of our lord Jesus. You have shown them to be liars.”
“We are human Amitor, just like everybody else. Cut me and I bleed, truly I do.”
“And none would know that better than you. I would like you to tell me of your life.”
“There’s not much more to tell. It must be mostly in those reports, those letters; and I’ll bet there were salacious references to my duality. Saying that I’m a monster!”
Amitor confessed there were but promised to let it be known that she did not consider Drustina to be a monster. She then invited Drustina to bring Arina to her chambers that evening and they could have a good long girly chat, mainly about the Celtic girl’s pasts. Drustina sensed there might be another agenda so she offered to bring Torvel as well. Amitor felt a little wounded and wondered if she had sent out the wrong ‘vibes’.
“Why bring your companion?”
Drustina had already prepared an answer.
“Torvel also has a story to tell. He has been in the Middle Sea for more years than me what with trading on ships and then taken captive. If it is to be a night of sagas, then his is equally entertaining.”
“Entertaining!” Amitor queried. “If it’s as brutal as yours and Arina’s, I see little entertainment.”
“All right then, interesting.
“D’you really want him along? I find men to be somewhat boastful when it comes to talking about themselves. Girls tend to be more apologetic and empathetic. I was hoping to mix the stories with a clothes display and other girl stuff. I can bring a chaperone if that’s what’s bothering you ... a couple of my ladies in waiting.”
Drustina’s gaze fell floorwards. Obviously Amitor had sensed Drustina’s fears.
“I’m sorry. I was just, you know, unsure of what your true intentions were. I tend to still be protective of Arina. Despite her bravery in battle she’s still young and a bit naive when it comes to ... you know — sex and stuff. She hasn’t had much opportunity to mix with others outside of our own group. She isn’t very aware of all the dangers. Well, she is but she’s not alert to the stratagems and subtle deceits men use to gain our favours.”
Amitor nodded and sighed.
“Just because I am in my twenties and not yet wed does not mean I am not attracted to men. My brother and I are constantly looking for a suitable partner. I think you will have realised that my twin brother is of the ‘other persuasion’. Is that what made you think I was similarly orientated?”
Drustina hung her head shamefully and nodded.
“Yes. I’m sorry!”
Amitor smiled.
“Well we have both made blunders today and cleared them up. Shall we call it quits?”
Grateful for the release she grinned and the pair returned to Astos in the throne room.
“You two were a long time.”
“There was lots to discuss brother.”
“And is she scarred?”
“Very much so and more than just her derriere.”
Astos produced a half opened parchment with a sketch and showed it to Amitor; Drustina gasped with disbelief as she peered over Amitor’s shoulder.
“That’s my arse! That’s the scar! Who drew that!!?”
“Your sister Aiofe; from memory.”
“The bitch! If I ever see her again she’ll have to explain!”
“Are the rest of the scars like that?” Astos persisted as he unfolded the rest of the parchment.
“Why yes brother, exactly like this.” Amitor replied as she turned to Drustina.
“Your sister is a bloody good artist, it’s as though you are stepping out of the page!”
Drustina cursed again.
“She’s too bloody good. She shows everything I’ve got! And those other pictures, that’s my face side and front! I’ll bloody skewer her if I ever see her again.”
Then Drustina’s face greyed with fear.
“By the Goddess! She ... she’s captured me; she’s captured my image on the parchment. She hasn’t stolen my spirit has she?”
“No don’t be frightened girl;” Astos reassured her, “it’s only a drawing.”
“But my image! That’s my face; every evil spirit will recognise it.”
“Stuff and nonsense girl! It’s merely some clever pen marks on a piece of parchment.”
Drustina swallowed and spoke softly.
“My sister drew this? The lines, the shapes, I mean it looks real. That is clever.”
“It is.” Astos agreed as Amitor continued studying it.
She looked at Drustina and frowned. “I can understand why you’re nervous. That is you! Did this come with the letters brother?”
Astos nodded.
“So the emperor in Constantinople might have a copy.” Amitor concluded. “He will know what you look like even though he has never met you.”
“He’ll have to catch me first. I’m heading south, up the Nile south to the three kingdoms. I want to meet the Nubian queen. Is my permission sorted yet? I want to meet her.”
“It will be ready tomorrow morning.” Astor replied. “I spoke with the Nubian ambassador only this morning about it. He will add his letters of introduction to my carnet allowing you to travel the whole river to the 6th cataract. That is the northern border of Meronee’s realm, the ambassador’s letters will progress you from there.” Anyhow, how will you progress up the river in the floods and why are you so keen to meet the Kandake? Queen Meronee is a formidable ruler.”
“What’s the Kandake?” Drustina asked.
“That’s her title. She is not a queen consort, she is the sovereign in her own right; the Kandake.”
“That’s what I’d hoped. I want to see how a queen rules as a sovereign, for one day I will fight to win back my people’s lands from the Vikings. If I succeed and I am to rule then I must learn from one who already knows.”
Amitor frowned.
“You hurt me a bit Drustina, I rule jointly with my brother.”
“I have learned that and you do it well as you share your responsibilities. But that is the crux. You share your responsibilities; you can consult with your brother and share decisions. Queen Meronee is alone on her throne. If I ever win back my homeland, I could end up as she is. I would meet and consult with her for I intend to win back my heritage.”
“Do you really intend to take on the might of the Vikings? All the stories I hear of them, tell of a ferocious and powerful race of warriors.”
Drustina fell silent. It seemed that Amitor knew nothing of her battle with Blueface. It seemed that those particular stories had not followed her this far for they had been a long time ago and they mattered little to any but her own peoples, her own tribes in the North West corner of Europa. Amitor realised Drustina’s silence presaged her secret ambition and the warrior princess did not yet feel empowered enough to declare her ambitions publically.
“How do you plan to win back a kingdom when you have no army and you are not even rightfully its queen?”
For long moments Drustina was loath to concede her weakness and impotence then she confessed.
“Truly Amitor, I don’t know. Some might call it a pipe dream and they wouldn’t be deemed wrong. Right now, I have no idea and little hope.”
Amitor felt sorry for the warrior princess. To have lost everything, to have fought and won great battles for others and to yet still have little to call her own seemed a particularly cruel road to have travelled. Even her children were lost to her. Drustina seemed to sense Amitor’s thoughts.
“I have my ship and two utterly loyal companions. That means I can travel where the winds allow and share my problems to reduce them by three. Is that not the first small step?”
Amitor nodded. Obviously the girl was obsessed with her ambition. It could do no harm to allow the girl, her companions and their ship free let to travel up the great river as far as the kingdom of Nobatia. If lessons in Queenship could be learned from Meronee there could be little harm done. Amitor smiled indulgently and nodded.
“Very well Drustina. I will join my brother in permitting your passage to the sixth cataract now shall we repair to my chambers and savour that girl’s evening we planned?”
Assured of her now certain freedom to travel the great river, Drustina had achieved her ends and nodded happily. She could shed the burdens of her ambition and savour the companionship of Amitor’s court. They made their excuses to Astor and retired to Amitor’s private quarters.
The evening extended into the night as the three companions entertained the queen and her courtiers with more elaborate and more accurate accounts of the reports in the imperial letters.
As the party progressed Drustina sensed that Amitor was becoming attracted to Torvel. It was hard not to. Torvel was a tall handsome fair-haired warrior who bore plenty of scars to prove his bravery. There was also the further benefit that he had a proven compassion and tolerance. Amitor had well noted his deep and affectionate relationship with Drustina and her unusual duality. That relationship alone demonstrated that the tall Celt was a compassionate, kindly, loyal and brave man who would make excellent fathering material for her own child. In accordance with their ancient Pharoic customs, Amitor was entitled to find a father for her child if her brother king failed to ensure the succession.
Astor had long proven to have no interest in women so it fell to Amitor to fulfil their royal obligations. When the festivities ended, Amitor quietly approached Drustina and the warrior princess smiled knowingly.
“You fancy him do you not?”
Amitor’s eyes widened with uncertainty.
“Was it that obvious?”
“He’s not a bad looking lad and his other qualities are well proven. I have been speaking with your courtiers at length so I know your ways and your customs now. You are married to your brother as King and Queen but he will not serve your purposes, your royal obligations to ensure the line.”
“You’ve listened well Drustina. May I borrow him?”
“Does not your heir have to be legitimate?”
“He will be, nobody will be able to deny his mother ... me, the queen.”
“But do you not have to be married to the father?”
“By Christian mores, yes, but it’s a wise child that knows its own father. This has always been acknowledged by Pharoic law thus the Queen determines the legitimacy of the succession when the king is incapable or unwilling to make child.. Usually this is no problem but if her husband is incapable then she must take the steps to resolve the issues. It’s been this way for thousands of years. When our parents realised that my brother was onanistic and disinterested in women they ruled that we should be joint consorts and I would ensure the succession. We were married when I was only fourteen summers.”
Drustina shrugged, who was she to be judgemental ... she of both sexes and unique duality. It seemed she would be a hypocrite if she objected to Amitor’s request. She replied to Amitor softly.
“If Torvel is willing, and most men would rip your arm off for the chance to impregnate one as beautiful as you, then be my guest.”
Amitor’s posture slumped with relief.
“Seriously Drustina, you have no objections?”
“None that would be justifiably enough to deny you and your kingdom tranquillity of succession. Speak to Torvel, see what he says ... and more importantly, does.”
“Thank you Drustina, you have brought me some salvation. In truth our royal blood-line was becoming weak. Torvel is from far off climes and his seed will bring fresh blood into our dynasty.”
“By the gods Amitor,” Drustina chuckled, “you speak like a horse breeder. Your mooring master in the harbour spoke exactly thus when he asked to breed out of my beloved mare Seripatese.”
Amitor frowned.
“Do not laugh so Drustina. As the queen, it is my royal duty to bring forth a healthy child to ensure a good succession. Torvel seems to fulfil all the conditions. This is not some envious attempt to steal your handsome and kindly mate. Just remember, and I am sure Queen Meronee will confirm this to you; If you ever win back your homeland and become a ruler back in your own lands, you will worry for what you leave to posterity. Women leave their children to posterity when they die but you already know of the hurt that surrounds leaving them too early. I will speak with Torvel and I must speak with my onanistic brother. This is not some idle romantic tryst, this is governance and you must learn of such sacrifice and responsibility if you are ever to become a good ruler. ”
Hello everybody.
I'm sorry for the long intermission but RL issues have been pressing into my time. Anyway, here's the next chapter.
Torvel gets a 'Royal Invitation' he can hardly reject while Arina approaches maturity and enjoys her ascent into adulthood with Drustina.
The Angry Mermaid 28
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 28.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Drustina made her excuses and retired to the chamber set aside for her and Arina by Queen Amitor. She knew once she had left, that Amitor intended to approach Torvel about impregnating her. It was only ten minutes after she had retired that she heard Torvel’s familiar knock on her door. She had been hoping to hear it and a huge wave of emotion flooded through her body when he whispered urgently at her door.
“Dru; are you awake?”
“Yes, come in. Arina’s with me.”
Torvel entered and smiled to see Arina sharing Drustina’s bed.
“If I didn’t know better I would be entitled to think salaciously.”
“Well be assured partner nothing is happening.” Drustina growled.
“I know, but I must enlighten you of developments.”
“Go on.”
“I; I don’t know how to put this. I’ve just been propositioned by the Queen Amitor.”
Drustina smirked knowingly.
“I know lover. She spoke to me earlier about it.”
“What!”
“She approached me earlier. While you were entertaining those two pretty young courtiers by showing your scars.”
“I wasn’t entertaining them. They asked to see them.”
“Oh yeeess! And you of course were reluctant to show them.”
“You showed yours, earlier, alone to Amitor!”
“That was for identity. Both King and Queen would be certain I was who I said I was.”
“Huh they knew that from the pictures Aiofe drew!”
Drustina stopped mid thought. ‘Dammit! Torvel was right!’
“Damn!” She muttered with a knowing smile. “You are right Torvel. So she was just another curious voyeur.”
“Of course she was curious Dru! Everybody who finds out about your duality is curious about you. She just wanted to see a prick on a woman! She didn’t ask you to give her a baby did she?”
“No! She certainly did not! She was the epitome of propriety.”
“Glad to hear it. Now can you shift over?”
“Don’t be silly Arina’s here!”
“I’m not going to embarrass you. I just don’t like sleeping alone, especially when you are here and I can cuddle up!”
Drustina turned to Arina who had remained silent as she listened with increasing curiosity.
“D’you mind him sleeping on this side. There won’t be any licentiousness.”
“I’ve no objections. There’s plenty of room.” Arina replied.
Drustina smiled her gratitude and patted the mattress to invite her erstwhile male partner into the bed. Torvel smiled, said ‘thanks’ to Arina and quickly spooned up to Drustina’s curves. He was disappointed to find Drustina wearing pantaloons that prevented any intimacy. Drustina giggled.
“As I said lover, no funny business. Besides, if you are going to impregnate that queen, you better save it up.”
They both heard Arina snigger knowingly and Drustina squeezed Torvel’s masculinity as she re-iterated Arina’s amusement. Then sleep overtook them for it had truly been a long day.
The noises in the Queen’s courtyard dragged them from sleep long after dawn had broken and Torvel crept to open the shutters while Drustina and Arina stirred. He recognised the Nubian entering the courtyard.
“The Nobatian ambassador’s returned, he’s carrying some letters. I’m hoping one of them might be our river pass above the cataracts.”
Drustina joined him at the window.
“Good, I hope so as well. What are your plans for today?”
Torvel grinned.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On the Queen. If she commands me to impregnate her then I must obey.”
Drustina smirked knowingly.
“As if you would disobey!”
Torvel shrugged and pinched Drustina’s bottom. She squealed her objection and a general free-for-all ensued as both girls fell to wrestling with Torvel.
“That’s not fair there’s two of you!”
“And you’re complaining!!!?” Drustina scoffed.
It was Torvel’s turn to smirk and he nodded knowingly towards a somewhat flushed Arina. Drustina noted Arina’s arousal and promptly resumed wrestling with her lover.
“By the gods, you randy sod! Is not a queen and a freak enough to satisfy your lust? Would you now try to abuse an innocent virgin?”
“If you’re a freak then so am I for I sleep with you. Anyway, I haven’t slept with a queen yet.”
“But you’re going to and don’t try to deny it.”
Torvel shrugged again, partly from embarrassment and partly from resignation. If the queen commanded it, they all three knew he would have to. He could hardly refuse. Arina lay smirking with her red hair spread across her pillow.
“So your son might be the next king of Egypt, or at least the governor.”
“It could be a daughter.” Torvel cautioned her.
“Shouldn’t be a problem!” Drustina added, “Queens can rule here, it’s not like other places further west and north. Come on let’s eat. You can bet the ambassador’s timed his arrival to find a meal.”
The three of them dressed and arrived to find the ambassador awaiting an audience with King Astos. Torvel approached him directly.
“Have you got our permissions?”
He waved a parchment and smiled.
“It just requires Astos’s signature.”
“Why would your permissions require Astos’s signature.”
“It’s just a formality to prove he’s sighted them. Queen Meronee will know you are bona-fida visitors.”
“What, you mean we could sail hundreds of leagues up the Nile on false papers?”
“No, because there are watch posts at regular stages all the way along the river. They keep a check on everything, water levels, sand bars, accidents, traffic, smuggling and so on ... and especially anything that's new or unusual. They are the king’s eyes and ears. A ship as odd looking as yours is bound to attract interest and the watchers will probably stop you at every station.”
The door opened and Amitor emerged as the ambassador prepared to enter.
“Catch you later, there’s a list of does and don’ts and the latest information on the state of the river. I’ve got copies at my residence and weekly updates.”
With these words he disappeared into Astos’s office and Amitor approached the trio with a huge grin.
“It’s settled. If you wish, you are to impregnate me.”
Drustina’s jaw sagged a little for the statement made plain the circumstance. Any part of Torvel’s was deemed nothing more than an act of governance. Ensuring the succession and then be done with it. There would be no emotion or compassion though it seemed from the sensuous smile that played around Amitor’s lips, that she at least was anticipating pleasure. Drustina turned to face Torvel.
“Well there you have it partner. Served up on a plate. When do you intend to do it?”
Before Torvel could reply, Amitor interrupted.
“He’d best start as soon as -. He’ll have to get me with child before your permission to travel the river is finalised.”
“Shit! That could take months!" Drustina cursed. "You’d best get to it partner ... and don’t get all emotional or clingy. It’s simply a job — a task. Arina and I can wait. Besides, the river is still in flood so it’d be a lot of effort for little distance.”
With these words Drustina turned to Amitor and grinned.
“I leave him in your hands. Go easy on him! I’ll want him back in full working order!”
Amitor grinned and motioned Torvel through into her chambers. Drustina and Arina were left wondering what to do.
“I suppose we’d better return to our own apartments across the courtyard.” Arina suggested.
“And just wait I suppose.” Drustina shrugged. “This creating an heir makes mincemeat of their Christian morality stuff but they seem to have the three god thing firmly in its place. They use the religion, the religion doesn’t use them.”
“Yeah, it gives them comfort without giving them grief.”
Drustina had to smile.
“Nicely put Arina. We’ll make a philosopher out of you yet.”
For the rest of the day they were left to their own devices. They visited the Mermaid and took a slow leisurely sail around the huge harbour. Next they rode out to the stud farm and renewed their acquaintance with Seripatese. The little mare had immediately come trotting over and savoured their attention. The Mooring Master arrived home at the sixth post meridian signal from the Pharos and released his horse amongst the herd of mares. They stood chatting as they watched his fine stallion mustering his herd; Seripatese amongst them. The moment the stallion had appeared in the field, Seripatese had left Drustina’ and Arina’s company to join the herd dashing around the field savouring the cool of the approaching evening.
“I think she’s with foal,” the Mooring Master hazarded, “the horse seems to have lost interest; he’s stopped pestering and hustling her all the time.”
“Well she looks content and happy. I’m asking you to take particular care of her if she remains behind while we visit Nobatia.”
“I will ... that’s a promise. She really likes you doesn’t she?”
“We’ve been together a long time. Look after her.”
They finished chatting and the pair returned to the palace. At dinner they met Torvel looking very pleased with himself. Queen Amitor also bore a rosy flush and the mood was thoroughly convivial. Strangely, Drustina didn’t feel any jealousy. She had thought she would have but she found herself more protective of Arina. They sat together at the table and Arina stayed at her side until they retired. As they prepared for bed, Drustina sensed something electric in the air. Arina had joined her in the bath and stayed silent. Normally she chatted and giggled as they dried each other and tended their hair but tonight Arina was much more tactile. Her hands lingered on Drustina’s hair and on her flesh when they rubbed oils into each other’s flesh. As they lay naked together on the bathroom benches Arina reached out tentatively and glanced questioningly at Drustina. Drustina followed Arina’s questing gaze to the maleness in her groin and sensed what was coming.
“Can I touch him?” Arina whispered nervously.
“Are you asking for something special?” Drustina countered.
“D’you think I’m, you know ... old enough to be with you, to go with you?”
“If you want to do it, then you’re old probably enough. It’s coming up to your fourteenth summer.”
“When the winter solstice comes it will be my fifteenth. We don’t count the first summer until a full year has passed. My tribe do not like to tempt the gods so we let a child lie un-named and un counted until the first summer has passed then we start counting.”
“Well then you are probably ready. D’you want me or Torvel?”
“You; besides, Torvel’s busy with other duties. I think you know more about it cos — cos, you know, you’ve already done the hard bit, the baby. I’m a virgin.”
“I know that Arina. Nobody knows that better than I. We’ve been together now for over three years.”
Arina’s eyes flooded with nervous tears.
“Will it hurt? You know ... when you take me? My sisters screamed when the Vikings took them.”
Drustina’s heart melted. The poor kid had probably witnessed the most horrific scenes and naturally associated the horror of rape with loss of virginity. She reached out and hugged Arina to her and their breasts squeezed together as Drustina explained.
“Do you hear me scream when Torvel and I do it?”
“No.”
“But you hear us both moaning and grunting and sometimes giggling.”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s how it is when lovers come together to express their feelings. You can come to me tonight and this time you can explore my body if you wish, but; only if you want to. We’ll take our time, we may not even do anything, but you’ll be taking your first tentative steps. Whatever else you feel you need not feel fear.”
Drustina felt the tension flowing from Arina’s shoulders as the girl relaxed in her embrace. She found her hands squeezing Arina’s back and waist as a new sensation surged through her body. It was still love but it was more than the sisterly protectiveness that had cemented their relationship for so long. This love made her heart beat faster, her neck flush warm and her loins stir.
Arina felt Drustina’s duality stiffen against her belly and she gasped. She separated momentarily and looked down in pleased surprise.
“It’s gone hard! It’s standing up, it’s sticking out! ... Just like the stallion and Seripatese!”
Drustina sighed, ‘the poor kid was just too innocent for words!’
“Of course it gets hard Arry, how else would it go in?”
“So that’s how it works. I always wondered how men put it in. I’ve seen Torvel’s when he was unaware I was spying and it just hung there. I didn’t know that it went stiff like the stallion. I thought the girl had to sort of guide it in and tuck it up her opening like stuffing a bung into a bottle.”
“By the gods child, did you not see the Vikings taking your sisters?”
“No. I heard the screams and later saw the blood but the attackers unwittingly spared me the actual sight. They were too busy raping women to notice me. I was only a little child and most of the time; I was hiding with my eyes closed.”
Arina teared up as she told of her experiences and Drustina hugged her tighter again to her breasts. There was a long moment of tearful confusion as Arina savoured Drustina’s naked, sisterly embrace and simultaneously explored the strange duality prodding at her soft, flat, teenaged belly.
It was Arina who eventually guided Drustina to the bed and Drustina let the girl do all the leading. Drustina smiled as the girl fumbled and fingered her way around the exciting new body she had come to hold and, in some way own. They first sat upon the bed but Arina quickly stretched out and nervously tugged at Drustina to lie alongside her.
“You know what to do, don’t you?” Arina begged.
“Yes,” Drustina assured her, “I’ve never taken the man’s part but I have shared enough of the intimacy to know every single pleasure. D’you want me to take you from the front or from the back?”
“Which is best?”
“For you, probably taken from the front but it’s perhaps best if you lie on top. The difficult part will be the first entry.
Sometimes it hurts a bit and it’s best if you are in control.”
“Did it hurt you? The first time that is?”
“Yes ... a bit. Torvel was a bit over eager but he was very gentle. He spooned against my back and took me from behind. The girl has less control if she is taken from the back or if she’s underneath face to face. When I’m with Torvel, I can’t do it easily from the front and take it as a woman for my female parts are behind my cock and between my balls so my duality gets crushed. Torvel and I have never done it face to face, because of my duality. That’s something I miss and I’m dearly looking forward to doing it face to face with you.”
Arina fingered Drustina’s maleness again and whispered.
“Do we need lubrication?”
Drustina fingered Arina’s dampening labia and smiled.
“Perhaps not, but we’ll need cotton cloths. It gets a bit messy for you will probably bleed a little and we’ll both make juices.”
Drustina reluctantly slid out of the bed and collected some small cotton napkins from a chest and returned smiling.
“We won’t stain the sheets and nobody will be able to snigger at our having entered into our carnality for the first time.”
“Thanks,” Arina whispered, “I’m so unread in this.”
“We all are, the first time,” Drustina replied as she resumed their intimacy and gently inveigled her fingers between Arina’s thighs.
Arina twitched salaciously and then Drustina slowly manoeuvred her fingers to the portal of Arina’s preparedness. She found Arina’s labia wet and receptive and Arina shuddered with pleasure as Drustina’s knowledgeable fingers gently ‘tested’ Arina’s bud. Arina groaned softly and parted her legs to open like the blossom of a flower greeting the morning sun.
“I want you,” she whispered huskily, “I so want you inside me. There is an ache, a need within me.”
Drustina knew Arina was ready for her fingers were slippery with Arina’s virgin dew but she delayed the inevitable and gently used her fingers to bring Arina to a frenzy of lust. Arina’s nascent libido was soon twanging like a bow-string as it demanded to be released. Drustina felt the girl’s heart thundering with youthful urgency as she cried out.
“Don’t torment me! Take me! Fill me! I want you now!”
Gently Drustina slid her legs under Arina’s thighs while Arina adjusted herself eagerly to spread her thighs over Drustina’s hips and lie face down upon the older girl. Slowly, Arina carefully impaled herself bit by incremental bit. Drustina felt a desperate need to thrust but she strained manfully to restrain her urges at least until Arina had accommodated her manhood within her. Arina whimpered nervously for there was some slight pain as her maidenhood slowly succumbed. She hesitated, then ‘lowered’ herself a fraction more and paused. After several hesitations and adjustments she eventually felt her bud being crushed against Drustina’s pubis.
“I — think it’s all in.” She whispered.
“It is,” Drustina croaked. “Just wait a while. Give your body a chance. Is it hurting?”
“No. Well, yes ... a bit but - not really, it’s just well — it’s just nice. Why are you trembling?” Arina asked.
“It — it’s my first time as well ... as a man!” Drustina explained. “I — I’m trying to hold off. I want you to share the pleasure.”
“Well don’t hold back. Let yourself go, take me. I want to know I have that effect on you.”
“But what of you? Once I come, I will be enervated while you strive to achieve.”
“We’ve got all night.” Arina replied in a husky whisper.
“Are you hurting?” Drustina asked.
“No. Not now. Go on, let yourself go. I will enjoy. If I ask you to stop; stop.”
“I’ll try,” Drustina replied as she tentatively ‘tested’ their union.
Her actions started Arina towards her climax but Drustina failed in her resolve to delay until Arina could share the pleasure.
Inexperience and a youthful male libido meant it was but a few short strokes before Drustina spent her forces in a climactic explosion and Arina let out a squeak of astonishment as she felt Drustina’s juices spurting against her sensitive cervix.
“Oh!” She squeaked sharply as she jerked with delicious surprise. “I felt you.”
“Of course my lovely, I’m inside you!”
“No, not that. I felt your seed splashing. I didn’t think it was so forceful. Mmmm. Now I have you ... all of you. What’s yours is now truly mine.”
Drustina hugged Arina to her. She had never considered such an idea before. Yes her seed was indeed all of her! And now it was all Arina’s.
They lay in union for a while with Arina wondering when Drustina would be ‘ready’ again. She savoured the pleasure of having Drustina inside her even while Drustina’s maleness lay passive. Eventually they both felt Drustina harden and Arina giggled.
“That’s nice. It feels so exciting.”
“Mmmm.” Drustina nuzzled Arina’s throat and Arina squeaked.
“Hey! I’m not a mare. Don’t bite me.”
“I wasn’t, I was nibbling you. It’s your turn now. Take your time, I’ll just try and lie passive.”
Arina smirked to herself as she considered these words. ‘Drustina wouldn’t be passive for long,’ she thought as she started to gather a lusty tempo.
For Drustina even the second time was not enough to delay the onset of her orgasm but fortunately Arina was already well aroused and needful. As Drustina was coming down from her second pinnacle of that evening, Arina started to feel the long waves of pleasure gently growing through her body. She moaned softly and Drustina immediately recognised those moans for she released similar sounds when Torvel made her feel like a woman.
Because her pinnacle was just passing, Drustina managed to slow her tempo and found enough resolve to gently co-ordinate her thrusts with Arina’s burgeoning needs. She felt Arina’s stiff nipples nubbing against her own and this sensation served to reinforce the feminine side of Drustina’s lovemaking. The sensations also served to prolong Drustina’s youthful erection and soon Arina was in her elements. Her whimpers turned to moans and then shouts of joy as she found relief around Drustina’s cock. A relief that flooded in waves of ecstasy from her core to her fingers and toes. Even the hair on her neck stood up as her orgasm overwhelmed her.
As her body took control Arina panted and moaned with carnal release while Drustina struggled to co-ordinate her thrusts and adjust her embrace to complement Arina’s abandonment.
They did but know it, but Drustina’s femininity had probably effected a conjoinment and satisfaction second to none in the history of human kind. For to have male parts and yet understand the innermost workings of the female passion, uniquely enabled her to please Arina in the carnal sense and the emotional sense.
Slowly, very slowly for Arina was loath to let the waves subside, the girl succumbed to a blissful languor. She lay with Drustina inside her and resting her head on Drustina’s shoulder.
“Will it always be like that, like the second one?” Arina sighed.
“I would love it to be my precious but sometimes it falters.”
“Why?”
“When we use this for our mutual happiness and pleasures it works thus but if we use it selfishly, if the man takes the woman in anger or if either the woman or the man uses it to say sorry it sometimes loses its potency, its meaning. If it’s used to express our love it feels beautiful, that’s when it works like this.”
Arina felt a warm feeling surge through her breast and she squirmed salaciously as Drustina’s manhood flopped out. Drustina stirred and gently eased herself from under Arina’s embrace.
“I’d best get some cloths, some napkins. I’m wet and I’m sure you are.” She whispered.
“Don’t go my lovely.” Arina murmured.
“Oh I’m not going darling, just a step to the stack of napkins in the chest.
Reluctantly, Arina raised her leg and Drustina slipped across the room. She returned with the necessary cloths and Arina smiled. Drustina glanced down at the sheets and spotted a few tiny flecks of blood. She drew Arina’s attention to them.
“We can dispose of the sheet or you can let the palace staff know you are no longer a maid.”
Arina studied the spots.
“I thought there would be more. What happened when you did it the first time?”
“I don’t remember. I was so innocent I didn’t know and I didn’t look.”
“Did you come the first time?”
“Yes. Because Torvel took me like a dog and a bitch, he fingered my cock and worked me to a frenzy.”
“Was he offended by your ... you know; this?” She grasped Drustina’s flaccid cock and gently pistoned it as she lay back again and tugged Drustina to her.
“No, he seems to understand and that’s why I love him as well as you.”
“Do you love him more than me?”
“No. It’s different sort of love. With him it’s a sense of being protected, with you it’s a sense of total sharing, of knowing we please each other and complement each other precisely.”
“Why do you need to feel protected? You’ve got your sword.”
“My sword did not save my children Arry. I lost those to lies and poisonous preachings.”
Arina nodded and sat up again briefly. Even she missed Drustina’s twins and her heart felt heavy for her companion’s grievous loss.
“We might see them again if we return via Carthage when we go to Rome.”
Drustina shrugged bitterly.
“Maybe Arry, but there’s much to be doing before we consider Rome. I dearly wish to meet with Queen Meronee and learn from her.”
Arry agreed. And they grinned knowingly before they smirked in unison. Then they burst out giggling.
“Are you thinking the same thing that I am thinking?” Drustina asked.
“I think so,” Arina chuckled and they drew breath together before speaking in unison.
“Hurry up and get her pregnant Torvel!”
These words reduced the girls to hysterics and that is how Torvel found them.
A chapter that simply describes and connects events that lead on to other developments. Drustina is lined up for 'royal duties'.
The Angry mermaid 29.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 29.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
“What are you two so happy about?” He asked.
Drustina remained silent but Arina couldn’t wait to announce her new status. She pulled back the cotton sheet and parted her legs to reveal the tiny flecks of blood staining the sheet. At first, Torvel couldn’t see them then he realised what Arina was about. He leaned forward and after briefly considering Arina’s femininity he spotted the tiny stains.
“Oh my gosh!” he smiled joyously. “You’ve done it, you’ve lost your maidenhood ... and to Dru as well.”
“It was always going to be Dru,” Arina declared firmly. “Her cock is the one that’s always respected my maidenhood and protected it ever since my family were killed. Dru and I are as one now; joined forever in Love.”
Torvel sat on the bed and extended both arms, inviting both girls to enter his embrace. They happily accepted his invitation and the three lay in a bundle for several minutes silently savouring their companionship. There were no jealousies, no demands, and no words to destroy the mood. Just two naked ‘girls’ and a man in only a night shift.
After a lengthy snooze the three arose and prepared for the rest of the day. Torvel had another ‘tour of duty’ with Amitor at noon and Arry fancied going out to visit Seripatese. Drustina suggested they go via the dock to check up on the Angry Mermaid. When they got there, they were pleased to find her clean and well cared for. The Mooring master and the Royal Harbourmaster had come to admire the ship then fallen in love with her remarkable qualities. Consequently, they had instructed their staff to mind her. That evening as they returned with the mooring master from the stud farm they found the Harbourmaster studying the ship. He turned and smiled as the trio approached.
“She’s got some interesting features.”
Drustina nodded and explained as all four stepped aboard.
“The high prow enables her to ride the high waves we encounter beyond the Pillars of Hercules”.
“Are the seas really as high and as long as the stories tell.”
“Yes.”
“How is that d’you think?”
“You know yourself, the more open the sea, the longer the fetch and the bigger the waves. The wind god Camalus has time to do his work and Noden’s peace is greatly disturbed.”
The Harbour master nodded and asked.
“How big d’you think this great Western ocean is?”
“Judging by the waves, it must be huge. Much bigger than the middle sea. We travelled for eight days and nary a sight of land.”
The harbour master nodded sagely.
“That’s what others tell me. You have come a long way.”
“In more ways than one Harbourmaster, in more ways than one.” Drustina finished sagely.
“Yes I’ve heard of the letters from Constantinople.”
Drustina shrugged as Arina eyed the wind and turned to her.
“Seems like a nice evening breeze, How about an evening sail before the light fails.”
Drustina recognised Arina’s words as a ploy to gain the Harbourmaster’s friendship so she agreed. The Harbourmaster and his subordinate Mooringmaster eagerly accepted and within minutes they were sweeping away from the quay. Once clear of the harbour Arina and Drustina smiled to each other and exchanged quiet words.
“Shall we show them her true legs?” Dru asked Arina.
“Are you happy to?” The younger girl replied. “You’ll only invite more curiosity. Perhaps just a lesser speed. Don’t show them everything the Mermaid’s got”
“Okay then we’ll use the leather storm sail, and then she’ll only run instead of galloping.”
“Yes. That’s best, don’t show them everything.” Arina cautioned.
“We won’t be staying here though will we?” Drustina ventured. “As soon as I’ve learned wisdom from this Queen Meronee we shall be moving on.”
Arina shrugged resignedly.
“You’re still determined to win back that land of yours aren’t you?”
Drustina nodded pensively.
“It’s my home Arina and yours if we ever win it back.”
“Can a land have two queens?”
“Can a girl have a cock? Nothing is certain for me.”Drustina sighed as she hauled up the leather storm sail.
The Mermaid picked up her heels and set up to the wind as her pace increased. Arina stared thoughtfully out to sea. They were heading north, where one day Drustina would once more seek to find a way of recovering her land. Then her thoughts were brought back to the more mundane task of holding the Mermaid in her bridle. The harbourmaster roared with enjoyment as the spray whipped up from the Mermaid’s assault on the waves and he turned to Drustina with a huge smile across his face.
“She flies like a bird; like a falcon; she is so fast.”
“Aye,” the mooring master added. “I didn’t realise we had such a treasure in our care. What makes her speed so?”
Drustina shrugged and nodded towards the sails.
“She sports two sails and an arse like a fat hen. Those and the high prow take her over the waves rather than through them.
The wood is especially tough as well. Celtic Oak; it is hard, light and resists rot. We can put her mast and rigging under greater stress than masts made from middle sea woods. We found this when we built Appotel’s ships. They are the same design but the middle sea wood has to be thicker and heavier to take the same loadings. Mermaid is lighter and faster.
“So we can never build one to match her?” The Harbourmaster replied regretfully.
“I’d never say never,” Drustina replied. “Maybe someone will happen along one day with a better design but this design suits our purpose that is to travel freely and safely.”
“Would you share her secrets?” The Harbourmaster inquired.
“There are no secrets. She is just very light, very strong and very fast. You may copy every feature by all means but unless you have good Celtic, Brithonic Oak, Your ship will always be heavier.”
“So we have your leave to copy her.”
“By all means. Appotel did, and Magab and Walezia. All their ships are slower. It’s the wood, and unless you can find a better timber than Brithonic Oak, you’ll be hard put to build a faster ship.”
As she explained this, Drustina nodded to Arina who flung the tiller over and brought the Mermaid around in a skidding turn that caused her to heel mightily. The two Egyptians swallowed nervously but the Mermaid quickly recovered her stability and picked up the new course with alacrity as Drustina adjusted the sheets.
“Nor will you find a more agile one.” She grinned as the two men recovered their balance.
“My God, she dances like Tara and flies like Beucephalus.” The Harbourmaster gasped.
Drustina looked askance. “Who are they?”
“Beucephalus was King Alexander the Great’s horse, the man who gave his name to our city and Tara is the maid of Constantia. She dances for the Emperor as his slave.”
“Oh,” replied Drustina without giving it a second thought.
She briefly mused that the girl had the same name as her murdered sister and apart from a twinge of remorse; she thought no more of it. Just two superlatives in the new pantheon of heroes and heroines. Arina brought her from her reflections and remarked.
“It’s getting dark, best I think we return.”
The men added their agreement and Arina once more flung the Mermaid about with the agility of an acrobat. The men grinned and Drustina offered the tiller to the Harbourmaster.
“Try her. She is as obedient and responsive as my mare Seripatese.”
The Harbourmaster happily took the helm and a wide grin split his features as he savoured the ship’s immediate response to even the most delicate touch. He wagged his head with amazement.
“She is definitely a ladies’ steed for she is as responsive as any horse. Truly you have built a remarkable ship. And the emperor’s letters say you even outpaced the infamous long ships of the Vikings.”
“We escaped them, yes.” Drustina concluded as the Mermaid sped between the breakwaters and quickly returned to her now accustomed berth.
After securing the remarkable ship, Drustina gave them licence to send their shipwrights over from the Royal dockyard and take any measurements they could. Then they accompanied the guard sent to escort them through the darkened streets back to the palace. Never could it be said that Queen Amitor and King Astos did not look after their guests.
The following morning Drustina returned to the harbour to find shipwrights and carpenters crawling all over the Mermaid. The master shipwright approached her as he recognised Drustina for the rightful owner.
“The timber you used It is as hard as iron!”
“Yes. I told you, oak. That’s the wood that grew in my family’s forests before the Vikings stole it.”
“We have no wood lie this. We can never hope to match her for our wood will necessarily have to be thicker and heavier to match its strength. Did it blunt your tools?”
“Our Iron is harder; the iron stone from the north is purer and melts to make a better iron. Here, see my dagger. This is Viking steel. It was the knife that did for Blueface.”
Drustina stuck the flat blade of her dagger on the bulwark and the dagger rang like a bell, thereby demonstrating its temper and toughness. She smiled, proud of her dagger and added.
“Harder iron and better wood. It may not make her a ship fit for war but she is as swift as any of those spotted cats you have in the city menagerie.”
“Oh those, the cheetahs. A good comparison but not that fast I’ll wager. Have you ever seen one of those creatures run down a deer?” The Master Shipwright ventured.
“No.” Drustina confessed.
“Then it is a sight to behold. Next Full moon is the start of the hunting season and those that have cheetahs as pets use them to run down wild deer. I have a fine team of six; three hunting pairs. You must come as my guest to join the hunt. Bring your mare Seripatese.”
“I will be delighted.” Drustina enthused ... anything to take away the boredom of waiting for Torvel to impregnate Queen Amitor.
A couple of weeks later, the full moon arrived and Drustina took up the Shipwright’s offer. Both she and Arina were stunned at the speed the cats showed and they reported back enthusiastically to Torvel.
“You can scarce follow their progress through the grass it is so fast, then, suddenly you see the strike. There is all hell let loose and the deer is dead in moments. Much, much faster than our hunting dogs, and more exciting. The action is so swift and deadly. The prey is not torn to pieces like dogs unless the whole pack is trained to relinquish the prize.”
Torvel listened avidly and determined to join them when next they hunted. When Astos heard of their fun he poo-hooed their enthusiasm.
“Come with me on the Sabbath when we run the royal cats in the desert. Then you will see their speed. No grass to hamper them, just sharp eyes and speed of foot. They are almost invisible such is their speed and their camouflage.”
Arina looked puzzled.
“You called them cats. I thought they were cheetahs.”
Astos studied the girls then realised they knew very little about the animals at the menagerie.
“Have you not looked closely at the lions and the leopards at the zoo? Do you not see the similarities with the cats that live around the palace ... the mouse hunters that kill the rats and mice around the granaries?”
Drustina paused thoughtfully then added.
“But they are much bigger. The lions and the leopards can kill a man.”
“Shrink them down Drustina. Then compare them with the cats around the palace; especially the leopard. It even purrs like a cat. So we refer to them as cats as opposed to hunting dogs. We use those as well because they can be trained to hunt for us.”
“But the cheetahs can hunt for you.” Arina countered.
“Yes, but they cannot be trained as well as dogs. The dogs give us more sport because we can chase the prey and use the dogs to assist us. We cannot accompany the cheetahs for they use an altogether different method. First a secretive stalking followed by an incredibly fast dash. They give us little entertainment, no hue and cry, no long chase on our horses. Cheetahs tire very quickly when they make their dash. The dash tires them quickly though they can go as long as a dog at a steady trot. However the dogs bark and pack together making them easier to follow. They offer similar hunting sports but with different methods. We hunt with cheetahs on foot mostly, except to locate them after the kill. With dogs it’s the fun of the chase and a pack of dogs can be trained to make a kill without starting to eat it. Cheetahs set to on the carcass immediately. Dogs bring us uneaten carcasses for our own consumption. A cheetah kill can be pretty mangled up by the time we recover it for the cheetahs are loath to release it.”
Drustina mused thoughtfully.
“Which do you prefer, dogs or cheetahs?”
“I’m pretty much equal about either methods of hunting but Amitor my sister prefers the cheetahs. I think it’s because she sees them as more slinky, more feline and they are cleaner. Cheetahs are forever grooming themselves and she often has her pair on her bed as companions. Her cheetahs are very close to her, like pets really.”
Arina sniggered.
“I bet Torvel doesn’t like that!”
Astos smiled knowingly.
“They’re not possessive like dogs. The cheetahs are content to sit on the divan when Torvel is about his royal duties.”
Drustina wagged her head with bemusement and smiled as she pictured Torvel about his duty while two cheetahs lay in the same room. She knew the palace cats often slipped into the people’s beds, indeed one had already laid claim to her and Arina’s bed. However, the thought of the cheetahs with those huge teeth suddenly interrupting activities tickled her pink. She giggled and Astos smiled.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Astos grinned. “You’re wondering how can Torvel concentrate? How can he think?”
“Oh he doesn’t have to concentrate my liege; his cock does all his thinking. I was just picturing the cat biting his arse.”
At this Astos burst out laughing, so much so that the head Chamberlain put his head around the door. Astos waved him away.
“It’s alright Chamberlain, the ladies are amusing me.”
The Chamberlain’s eyes widened briefly for Astos was known to favour the other side and tended to shun female company except when royal duties demanded. The Chamberlain studied the group thoughtfully.
‘Perhaps the two Celtic maids with their more mannish ways and less effacing natures might be attractive to the king.’ He wondered. ‘Especially as the taller maid was doubly endowed.’
The Chamberlain retreated thoughtfully to consider an idea.
‘Could he somehow persuade the king to lie with the taller maid and perhaps beget a child by her. After all, the tall one was known to have the equipment that attracted the king to pleasure, namely a cock.’
He also knew the woman had already born twins; the imperial letters had described it. Here was a possible union with a proven mare and what was even better was that if both the king and the sister queen begat heirs there was potential for a cousinly union with wholly new blood to ascend the throne for the next generation. The Chamberlain left with his head whirling at the possibilities. Secure succession with proven royal blood.
The following morning the Chamberlain made it his business to try and set the wheels of succession in motion. He met with Drustina as she was feeding the cat who had adopted her and Arina.
“That’s a friendly catcher my lady.”
“Catcher, d’you mean mouse catcher?
“Well yes; that and rat catcher.”
“Rats! Uugghh!”
“Oh there are rats everywhere but the cats do their job well. We are not overrun with them or with mice. You’ll but rarely see a rat or mouse in the royal apartments or indeed most Egyptian houses. Cats are held in high esteem, we used to consider them to be gods before Christianity came to us.”
“Came to you or forced upon you?”
“Oh we adopted the new faith quite voluntarily. The apostles who came to us were true disciples who had actually met and talked with the Lord Jesus. They were peaceful and compassionate, not like the later disciples who brought also the sword. That’s why we consider ours to be the true faith. We were the first and we were taught by the ones who had actually met with and learned from the master. His original followers.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Drustina observed, “Jerusalem is not far from here.
“Just a few days’ sail and a few days walk. An easy journey for one so travelled as you.”
“It’s a journey I have no time to make. My destination is the Kingdom of Nobatia and Queen Meronee.”
“Yes, and your objectives are laudable. She is a good queen and very well read. She can teach you a lot. Good monarchs are essential to a nation’s peace and prosperity.”
Drustina smiled. ‘She certainly agreed with the Chamberlain on that score.’
The Chamberlain sensed the intensity of Drustina’s abiding ambition to recover her lands for her people so he carefully threaded his arguments into their conversation.
“Queen Meronee comes from a long line of established queens.”
“Oh. Then what of the kings?”
“The Nubian monarchs trace their lineage through the mother, just like the Jews. They hold that it’s a wise child who knows his
own father.”
Drustina laughed. “Well that’s the truth, every child must have a mother and every mother must know their own baby, the pain of birth enough ensures that! Of that I can vouch with certainty!”
“Provided the mother gets to keep the baby.” The Chamberlain added thoughtfully.
Drustina’s smile faded quickly as the pain of that dreadful memory stabbed her to the heart.
“Mmm,” she finished thoughtfully; sadly. “You’ve hurt me now Chamberlain. I would have thought you would have been diplomatic and tactful enough not to remind me of that.”
“I’m sorry my lady. I’m dreadfully sorry. No mother should be forced to relinquish her child.”
“Children.” Drustina finished monosyllabically as the hurt stabbed deeper. “I had twins and both were lost to me.”
The Chamberlain stepped forward and extended his arms in an offer to embrace the girl. Drustina studied his posture and rejected the approach. She stood up as if to leave and the Chamberlain saw his opportunity to ensure legitimate succession disappearing. He had to think quickly.
“Are you of royal blood Drustina?”
Drustina snorted with amusement.
“By the Gods no! I am from common boat-builders; good boat builders but still nevertheless hewers of wood and smelters of iron.”
“So how are you to win support to recover your country for the Celts? You will need an army and men are loath to follow ambitious commoners.”
“Men are loath to follow maids but they followed me into Carthage.”
“Well if you lead men to victory I suppose they will learn to trust you then follow you.”
“That’s all I can offer them. Blood and tears, leastways until the battles are won and we lay claim to our lands.”
“And then you will establish a dynasty I suppose.” The Chamberlain concluded.
Drustina shrugged, she hadn’t thought that far. Amongst the Vikings, Kings and Jarls were chosen by the armies they led to victory. Only after tranquillity was established were dynasties born. Drustina had a sneaking admiration for the Vikings and she admitted this to the Chamberlain.
“The Viking leaders are brave and clever men. They become leaders by example and through their follower’s choice. At least they have merit and they must have wit to win the men’s affections.”
“Yes, sadly that is something Egypt lacks.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Drustina observed, “Amitor seems to know exactly what she’s about.”
The chamberlain let out a chuckle as he pictured Amitor abed with Torvel.
“Yes but here in Egypt we tend towards the conventional, we prefer our kings to be sired by the previous kings. It is a last resort to have an heir born by the sister queen. It weakens the legitimacy of succession.”
Drustina let out a belly laugh.
“Ha ha! Well I think this time it’s to be Amitor’s child who becomes the monarch. It strikes me that Astos will never successfully penetrate a woman. We all know of his male preferences.”
“Yes,” the Chamberlain admitted quite freely, “though we do not view it with the same censure as the Roman Christians. The apostles taught us forgiveness and compassion.”
“Huh, well that’s a first. Bishop Alviar was nothing but a brute!”
“And the world is well rid of him. It was a fortunate accident when your arrow nicked his throat.”
“It was an accident though,” Drustina lied. “The Angry Mermaid lurched violently just as I released the arrow.”
“But nevertheless, it must have brought you satisfaction. The beast who stole your children, meeting his end inadvertently by your hand.”
“I must confess, it brought me some small satisfaction, though my children are forever lost to me; and to Torvel, I might add. Why do you keep mentioning my children, you know it hurts me?”
“I just wondered if you had ever considered having more.”
“Hardly likely. Not while I’m on my quest to recover my lands. Pregnant maids are not the best warriors, I’ve learned that much.”
“But you are a fine woman, well formed and a proven mother.”
“Huh! A mother with a cock! Come now Chamberlain. Who would sleep with a woman with a cock?”
“Torvel did.”
“Torvel’s special; besides I was young and inexperienced. I never meant to get with child.”
“But you slept with him, you coupled with him and you bore him twins. All in all a truly motherly act. Have you not ever
considered doing the same for another man?”
Drustina almost burst out laughing then she suddenly realised the Chamberlain was leading somewhere. Her agile mind quickly put two and two together but she decided to double check.
“By the God’s Chamberlain are you suggesting I offer my freakish body to the king? That he might function with me as a man because he would be attracted to my cock?”
The chamberlain baulked at the astuteness of the maid’s mind.
‘My God, she has a sharp mind!’ He realised. ‘No wonder she led such a small army to great success in Carthage! Truly a child of this woman might be a wise and strong person.’ He decided to be frank.
“To be honest Drustina, yes. Any child of yours would be a worthwhile leader. The empire in Constantinople is becoming effete and ineffective. You witnessed this yourself when you so easily disposed of the pirates; a deed that neither Rome nor Constantinople could achieve.”
Drustina became thoughtful. It seemed that she had inadvertently landed in a bloody human stud farm and she was being primed as the mare, the new blood. Another pregnancy would set her back a couple of years in her ambition to return home. Furthermore she would be delayed from meeting and learning from Queen Meronee. ‘Was she really ready for another child?’ She asked herself. A strange mood came over her. Her breasts ached as she remembered the delights she shared with her twins but she also felt a mood of sorrow as she contemplated the awful loss. That sorrow would stay with her forever.
She voiced these fears to the Chamberlain who smiled thoughtfully.
“You need not delay your visit to the Nobatian realm. King Astos could accompany you. His sister is perfectly able and entitled to be sovereign in his stead.”
Drustina frowned. “Are you saying my simple journey of learning be turned into a state visit?”
“The king has never visited Nobatia, it would help cement relations and there are issues that could be better solved by face to face talk instead of the constant messaging up and down the Nile.”
“Are the issues serious? Is there more war in the offing?”
“Good gracious no my pretty maid! We are more civilised than that. The biggest issues we’ve ever had were the water sharing rights but those were resolved hundreds of years ago.”
No, it’s mostly diplomatic stuff and resolving new trading arrangements. In fact, your appearance from beyond the Pillars of Hercules gives the king an excellent reason for the visit. If trade is to expand to the great western ocean, then Meronee will want to know more of it and share in it. Your input will be constructive and priceless. It will be an excellent lesson for you in Queenship.”
Drustina immediately saw the advantage and quickly agreed to the visit. It remained only to resolve the baby issue. ‘Could she really face another childbirth? ... Another child, who would then have to be left behind again until she regained her country and her people’s lands. At least however, she would be able to return and collect her child if and when circumstances permitted.’
She thought long and hard then replied.
“I am minded to agree but first I must speak with my companions for they too wish to return to our homelands.”
The Chamberlain nodded with evident satisfaction and smiled as he excused himself to present the idea to King Astos. As a diplomat, shaker and mover, the Chamberlain was second to none.
~000~
Author's note. I've finally resumed writing after RL issues got in the way. I'll be posting chapters approximately one per week.
Comments would be appreciated. (Even adverse comments.)
A sroy describing how Drustina manages to get her way and advance her aims.
The reputed Colossus of Rhodes.
The Angry Mermaid 30.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
“What! The King! A Baby by the king but he, he’s not interested in women, he likes men; he likes cock” Torvel scoffed.
Drustina gave Torvel an old look.
“And?”
Torvel’s eyes widened and Arina giggled as Torvel suddenly realised what he’d said. He stared at Drustina and shook his head disbelievingly.
“Are you sure you’d want to sleep with such an effete little oddball. He’d not be good fathering material. A pretty insipid example of a man.”
“You could say the same about me Torvel, a pretty weird example of a woman, what with a cock and all.”
“Yes but you’re,” he hesitated looking for the right word and failed. There was no way he could describe Drustina, no way to allay to her duality without inviting offence. He fell back on tried and tested flattery. “But you’re pretty. Every man in Egypt fancies you. I’ve seen their heads turn every time they clap eyes on your yellow hair.”
Drustina smiled as she immediately recognized his diplomacy.
“Don’t try flattery darling, it doesn’t work in the wrong places or the wrong circumstances and this is one of those wrong circumstances.”
Torvel looked troubled.
“Are you absolutely sure Dru? I mean, what if his children are born weak and effete?”
Drustina sighed, in truth she wasn’t really sure, it just seemed like a more certain way to gain the king’s total support in her quest to meet the famous Nubian Queen. Now the idea of a state visit had been suggested with her and King Astos attending upon Queen Meronee, she knew that a pregnancy during her stay in Nubia would not impair her learning. She would be treated as a royal visitor. A thoughtful silence settled on the trio, eventually Arina broke it.
“If it speeds up our trip to Nubia then I say go for it. The sooner you have learned Queenship from Meronee, the sooner we return to Cymru and Brittanie.”
“With a baby in tow,” Torvel Countered.
“I get the feeling the idea is that I leave the baby behind, and Astos’s sister Amitor rears it along with her own child. They’ll be related as first cousins anyway.”
“Oh, so you still see us as husband and wife then.”
“No silly! I see us as companions and lovers but they’ll be first cousins through Astos and Amitor who are brother and sister. If Astos rears them both they couldn’t have a better start in life. What baby needs to be dragged around Europe while their mother looks for ways to win back her country?”
“You’re still determined in this ambition aren’t you?” Torvel remarked somewhat censoriously.
“Yes!” Drustina replied as though daring either he or Arina to challenge her ambition.
“Well so be it. I’d have thought after having two children taken from you, you’d never want that to happen again.”
“This time it’s voluntary. It’s me making the decision; at least, it’s me choosing to have his child. They’ve been good hosts to us while this river’s flood has made it difficult to travel up it.”
Drustina became stressed and teared up with emotion.
“This isn’t easy for me you know!” She snapped. “No mother ever wants’ to give up her children. I’m torn!”
Torvel looked thoughtful as he posed the next question.
“Which is more important to you Drustina ... winning back your homeland or keeping any more children you might bear?”
Drustina stared at him, rather taken aback by Torvel’s insight. His question caused her to stop and think. The woman part of her said ‘the children’ but the man part of her (and there was still a man part to her psyche,) said ‘homeland’. Torvel’s exposure of her mental duality had come as some sort of a surprise. She collapsed on the bed and started sobbing woefully. Arina immediately settled beside her and sat on the edge of the bed as she rubbed Drustina’s heaving back. She looked up at Torvel a little angered.
“You shouldn’t have put her on the spot like that.”
Torvel gasped.
“Come off it Arina, Dru put herself in this position. All I did was clarify the situation.”
“A girl doesn’t like questions like that rammed down her throat. You should have been more tactful. Show her some support.”
Torvel snorted then cursed.
“Dammit! I’ve shown her nothing but support ever since she rescued me from the Barbary pirates!”
Arina fell silent. Torvel was at least right in that respect, he had been by their side through almost every event except when they had separated by mutual consent to embark upon associated enterprises. Torvel had been the most constant and loyal companion to both girls. Arina apologised.
“Sorry Torvel, you’re right, it’s just that a girl doesn’t always think like a man.”
Torvel grinned.
“Ain’t that the truth!”
He settled on the other side of Drustina and joined Arina in the massaging. His heavier hand elicited a grunt and a giggle from Drustina. The mood changed and the trio eventually fell to chatting about plans. Naturally Drustina’s plans monopolised the conversation but Torvel for the first time expressed his hopes of returning to Brittanie as did Arina. This improved Drustina’s mood no end. She had at least three proven and trusted companions to help her attempt her ambition if not achieve it. They then fell to discussing sex with King Astos and Torvel’s progress with Queen Amitor. Drustina sniggered as she considered the idea.
“He’s such an effeminate wimp, I mean, I’m taller than him and possibly stronger than him. D’you think he’ll get it up?”
They all chuckled and made lewd suggestions, Torvel had the final word.
“Once he sees your cock Drustina he’ll be mesmerized with attraction.”
Drustina had the womanly grace to blush and yet she punched Torvel’s arm. It was quite a forceful punch and Torvel winced momentarily.
“Ouch! You minx, that sword arm of yours is still as effective as ever!”
“And don’t you forget it partner.” Drustina finished as Arina chuckled.
“If you use those muscles on King Astos, you’ll possibly break his back. You’d best go easy on him.”
Drustina smiled then advanced the conversation by asking Torvel.
“Will you run this insane idea past Amitor? See what her take is on it.”
Torvel grinned.”
“I’ll be seeing her tonight. I’ll run it by her in bed.”
They left the apartment and went for a stroll down the harbour to see how the Egyptian copy of The Angry Mermaid was progressing. Drustina had dressed for the occasion in leggings and a short jerkin to facilitate scrambling around the builder’s yard. She got several strange looks from both men and women as they walked through the city but her reputation by then was well known. When they arrived at the yard an apprentice met her and ushered her towards Horam, the master-builder’s office. He showed her some detailed drawings of every plank on the Mermaid and then led her to the copy sitting up on stocks. Drustina spent the whole afternoon chatting about boats and found the exercise relaxing. Torvel and Arina had soon tired after the first few looks and returned to the city to meet with Queen Amitor to discuss her brother’s intentions. It was getting dark by the time Drustina had exhausted the master-builders knowledge and he hers, so he invited her to stay and eat with his family.
“This is a rough area my lady, will you be safe going home alone?”
“I have my sword and my dagger.” She smiled. “Provided I am not taken by surprise, I will be okay.”
“The city watches patrol every hour until the middle hour of the night and their route takes them past the end of this street. I think it best if you wait until they arrive and then accompany them on their rounds until they meet with the palace guards every hour by the canal bridge. Then I can be certain of your safety.”
“That’s very considerate of you master, I look forward to meeting your family.”
With arrangements made Drustina accompanied the master-builder back to his house. There she met his two sons and three daughters. The boys were beside themselves with joy and kept pumping Drustina all through the meal for more tales of her illustrious journeys.
The older son had nearly finished his boat-building apprenticeship and was a fine well formed lad of nineteen, a year older than Drustina. His younger brother followed in the same mould and the Master Boat-Builder had good cause to be proud of his sons. Drustina eventually tired of their constant demands for more stories and she diverted her attentions to the three daughters who had remained mostly demurely quiet during the first courses. She fell to discussing ‘girl stuff’ like childbirth and clothes and the boys were bemused by the strange ‘volte-face’ of their famous host’s behaviour. Drustina sensed their confusion and turned to smile at the two boys.
“We’ll discuss boatbuilding later boys but please remember I am as much a girl as a boy. I like to chat with girls about clothes and other things.”
The boys had the grace and good manners to blush and courteously excused themselves while Drustina chatted with the daughters and wife. Later, the whole family assembled on the roof and after briefly chatting about boat-building, Drustina spoke to the father.
“Can you spare one of your sons for about a year? It might delay his completion of his indentures but the break might be worth his while.”
The master builder frowned uncertainly.
“What are you offering?”
“A trip up the Nile to Nobatia. I am accompanying King Astos on a state visit and I will need a couple of assistants.”
Both boy’s eyes widened with excitement, ’an adventure!!’ and Drustina could see the pleading in their eyes as each silently begged for it to be them. Their father looked at them and pondered then he looked at their mother with a questioning glance.
“Are you happy for one of them to travel for a year my dear?”
Drustina hastily corrected them.
“Oh it won’t be a year. More like a few months. I will be staying for a year but King Astos and his party will only attend for a couple of weeks then he returns without me. I hope to stay as a guest of Queen Meronee with my erstwhile companion Arina.”
The mother’s smile brightened and she nodded her consent.
“I can stand being without them for a couple of months if you can dear,” she replied to her husband. “Let both of them go.
It’ll do them good to see a bit of the world. Besides, the king can feed them for a couple of months; they can eat him out of house and home for a change.”
Drustina chuckled for she had watched the growing boys packing away vast amounts of food and it showed only as muscle on their raw-boned frames.
The boys let out a cheer of excitement and dashed off to tell their friends. The master builder smiled as he watched them dashing off and her turned to Drustina.
“You’ve not only made their day, you’ve made their lives.”
As Drustina turned to agree she caught one of the daughters with a tiny tear in her eye. She instantly sensed the reason and she leant forward.
“What’s wrong darling?”
The girl peeped out from her head scarf that she had slipped over her head to keep warm in the cooling evening. It was a typically feminine movement designed to win affection, and sympathy from her father. Drustina recognised the feminine ploy but kept her counsel and waited for the girl to explain, which she did in halting whispers.
“It’s not fair; the boys get to go everywhere. We girls are always stuck at home and go nowhere.”
Drustina said nothing but had the good grace to await the Master builder’s response. The older man stared thoughtfully then glanced questioningly at his wife. The lady had the grace to smile and shrug her shoulders so Horam turned to Drustina.
“Would it be safe for a sixteen-year-old girl to accompany you? I’ve heard of the wild scrapes you seem to get into.”
Drustina chuckled.
“This is a state visit Horam. I shouldn’t think there will be much risk. The king’s party will number hundreds if not thousands. There will even be a cavalry detachment riding on either river bank alongside the royal procession as it travels up the river. Astos will be keen to impress Meronee with Egypt and the Empire’s wealth and power. The whole trip will take a month to organise while the floods abate.”
Having explained the circumstances Drustina could sense the oldest sister’s excitement. Her two younger sisters were rightfully deemed too young at eleven and nine but the older girl wept with delight. She came around the table to hug first her mother, then her father and finally Drustina.
“You will look after her won’t you?” Horam begged. She’s my daughter and I hold her precious.”
“She’ll be well protected and her reputation will not suffer. There are a whole posse of royal chaperones as ladies of the court. It might even do her some good if she enters into the royal circles. Become perhaps a minor lady of the court.”
“Doubt that,” the mother observed, “we are commoners despite Horam being the king’s chief boat builder.”
“So was I; once,” Drustina answered. “People can rise to higher status.”
Horam wagged his head.
“Not much hope in this empire. Ennoblement is determined by the emperor in Constantinople.”
“Well, she might meet a noble and catch his eye. She could marry one for she’s a very pretty girl; aren’t you?”
Drustina finished as she turned to smile at the overjoyed girl. Horam’s wife simply grinned knowingly. ‘Drustina obviously knew how to win a girl’s loyalty.’
On this note Drustina paid her respects and made her way back to the Palace. Horam escorted her back to the end of the street and waited with her until the watch patrol appeared. Drustina smiled at the boat-builder’s concern.
‘It would be a fool who tried to rob her,’ she thought privately as she fingered her fine Toledo blade. However, she had learned not to buck in the face of convention. The watch patrol’s function was to provide an omnibus escort service for any who wished to avail themselves of it during the hours of darkness. As the patrol approached, Drustina counted at least a dozen ladies and older men availing themselves of the civil protection.
As the patrol passed them, the sergeant saluted Horam as the king’s chief boat builder and Drustina fell in beside the other women who stared curiously at her leggings and tunic. She bid Horam goodnight and stepped along with the patrol while other people joined and left the group as it wove its way through the streets. Eventually it arrived at the square and she approached the Palace guard. Enough palace staff recognised her to allow her instant entry.
“Where have you been my lady?” The captain of the guard asked. “You had no need to use the watch patrol; we would have sent you a private escort.”
“I have been dining with Horam the master builder. His servants had been sent home so there was nobody to send you a message to come and fetch me. Besides captain, I can look after myself but it was nice to meet ordinary people amongst the patrol. Three of his children will be accompanying me on the state visit. Officially to learn of other boat-building techniques and tropical woods but also as a general educational visit. As King Astos’s primary guest I have a right to a score of retainers but I’ll not be taking that many.”
The captain of the guard’s eyes widened.
“But Horam only has two boys. Will you taking one of his daughters then?”
“Yes. The oldest, Miriam.”
“Oh please my lady, I have only one daughter but she would dearly love to accompany the visit. Could you find it in your heart to retain her as a member of your party?”
Drustina sighed. She liked the captain of the guard and he would be accompanying the party anyway as the king’s chief protector. It could do no harm to allow his daughter to come. She nodded wearily and the Captain actually bent down to kiss her forehead. Drustina chuckled.
“That’s a nice compliment captain. Thank you for treating me wholly as a woman.”
The captain smiled and flirted slightly.
“I know who and what you are my lady but I know you are also a skilled warrior and general. Also Miriam and my daughter are of the same age, they will be good company for each other. They will worship you, just as my men worship you, just as the men of Carthage did. By the way, there are letters awaiting you in your apartment. They bear the seal of Queen Meronee. It appears your reputation precedes you.”
Drustina wagged her head and smiled. The captain was impossible.
“Flattery will get you everywhere captain but there are to be no more in my party. Do not tell your friends or they will all be clamouring to have their children join us. I have five young ones accompanying me now Arina, Horam’s three and your daughter. Torvel stays with Queen Amitor until the seed-deed is complete.”
The captain chuckled at Drustina’s euphemism for Torvel impregnation duties then remarked with a grin.
“Horam’s oldest boy is older than you, how can you speak of him as a young child?”
“You know what I mean. He’s never left home and he barely knows how to wipe his own arse.”
“Well I have to grant you that milady. Nobody can deny that you’ve seen a bit of life. It just tickled me that you referred to him as a young one.”
.With these words, the captain waved the guard aside as Drustina made her weary way to bed. It had been a busy day. When she
crept into her chamber in the dark to avoid disturbing Arina she found somebody else in her bed.
“Who the hell are you?” She demanded as the sword appeared magically in her hand.”
“Don’t you fool! It’s me Astos!”
“What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Arina?”
“She’s next door, she’s okay. I thought it best if we started this business in private. Just to see if things work.”
Drustina snorted contemptuously.
“We know my ‘things’ work. It’s you that’s the question!”
“Alright, don’t make some stupid issue of it. This is just kingly duties to satisfy some stupid laws of Christian succession.”
“Isn’t Amitor’s child enough?”
“It’s these stupid Christians ... male heir and all that!”
“Huh. How can they tell who the father is?”
“That doesn’t matter, but the emperor demands that I produce an heir to avoid any conflict if the succession issue ever arises.”
“I see. This I presume is the orthodox bishops in Constantinople.”
“In a word, yes. As you already know I am not the absolute ruler here.”
Drustina nodded and smirked.
“So how would they, that is the emperor and his bishops, know that you’re the father?”
“They don’t. They just assume that the woman is secure from the sexual attentions of other men.”
“And how would they assume that?” Drustina smirked.
“She is placed in a secure place.”
“Well you can forget that idea for a start. I have no intentions of being held a prisoner! I am perfectly safe from ‘sexual attentions’ as you put it.” She tapped the blade of her sword on the end of the bed to emphasise her point.
“I know that,” Astos replied. “Everybody knows of your sword skills. I’m here because I don’t want anybody to know if I’m a complete failure.”
Drustina’s heart softened.
“The poor bastard,” she thought, ‘royal duties were onerous enough without forcing a body to go against his own will.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and extended her hand to rest upon Astos’s shoulder.
“Are you that afraid?”
“Not of you,” Astos admitted. “I’m afraid I might not succeed.”
“Well then concentrate on my cock. Ignore the other attributes, at least until you feel more comfortable. Just pretend I’m a man, well — you don’t have to pretend because I’ve got a cock.”
She felt a timid hand carefully drift down her body towards her groin. It hesitated at the groove of her thigh where her leg joined her hip so Drustina took the opportunity to undress. She tugged off the leggings and slid the tunic over her shoulders just as any other man might have done. Then she stood with the moonlight glistening on her skin as she caught Astos’s eyes reflecting in the same light.
“Are you crying?” She whispered.
Astos did not answer but Drustina didn’t need one. The tears glittered like diamonds on his cheeks.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” she whispered again. “Here, hold this.”
She sat beside him and took his trembling hand as she guided it down to her groin and placed it on her stiffening cock. Astos let out a relieved sob and plunged his head down to engulf her manhood in his mouth. Drustina gasped at first then let out a soft giggle as she squirmed with delight.
“Hey! Lover boy. If you suck me dry, I won’t be able to get it up for you again later.”
Astos hesitated and giggled effeminately as he released her sex from his lips.
“You don’t have to get it up. I’m the one who has to service you.”
“Does that frighten you?” Drustina asked.
“Yes,” he choked as another nervous sob betrayed his fears.
“Well take your time. Just try getting used to me and my cock.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing!” He mumbled as his head returned once more to Drustina’s groin.
Drustina got the impression that Astos was using her manhood as a baby used a dummy, for comfort and pacification. As she savoured the delights of Astos’s ministrations, she started stroking his hair and before she knew it she was wrapping his hair around her fingers and driving him onwards. To her surprise Astos made no complaints, even when she exploded in the final paroxysm of delight.
Her thrashings gradually subsided and they lay for most of the night with Astos nuzzling her manhood and Drustina trying to get some sleep. Morning found them both sunken eyed and pale with exhaustion. When Arina put her head around the door, Drustina just stared wearily, begged her to get her some breakfast then motioned her away. Astos was buried under the sheets and invisible to the casual observer. When Arina left to eat breakfast, Astos emerged.
“Has she gone?”
“Yes, but she’s coming back with some food.”
“Mmmm. I’ve had all the sustenance I’ll need.”
Drustina lay on her back with her head against the bed-board as she stroked Astos’s face.
“I think it’s about time you reciprocated my favours isn’t it?”
“Mmm. What d’you mean?”
“You’ve consumed my elixirs so I need now to receive some of yours.”
“Have I got to?”
“You’ve got to try. If I’m to have this baby by you, I’m afraid it’s a bloody necessity.”
“I’m not sure if I can.”
“Oh come on. You’ve played with my cock all night. If you haven’t decided I’m man enough to please you by now, you never will. Just take me as you would your regular partners and put it in the other hole. There’s not much difference. You never know, while you’re feeling my cock stiffen, you might even get to like it.”
“What about these?” Astos asked as he gently tweaked her nipples.
“Oww. Leave those alone. That hurts you cheeky bugger.”
Astos frowned.
“Will I hurt you if I crush them?”
“Don’t worry shrimp; I’ll be able to protect my tits. I’m bigger than you and stronger. Think of me as the man in this relationship.”
“Only if you’ll shag me.”
Drustina paused.
“I’ll only do that, once you’ve managed to shag me. Fair’s fair.”
“I might not be able to do that. I’m going to have to go slowly with this.”
“Duuhh! We all knew that from the start. That’s why you’re trying it with a woman who’s also a man with a cock!”
“D’you think of yourself as a man?” Astos wondered.
“We’re not trying to get inside my head here Astos; we’re trying to get inside my front arse.”
The king gave a chuckle.
“Front arse. I like that. You’re a man with two arseholes.”
“If that’s what works for you then think of it like that.”
“That makes you every gay’s dream.”
“Right,” Drustina grinned, “then try to hold on to that dream when we go for it.”
Their pillow talk was interrupted by Arina’s entrance with a large tray of breakfast food. Her eyes widened knowingly as she clocked Astos lying in Drustina’s arms.
“So you did stay over last night.” She smiled.
“I’ll stay wherever I like, it’s my bloody palace.”
Arina placed the tray beside the bed and slid under the blanket on Drustina’s side. Astos’s eyes widened.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to let you do girly stuff!”
Arina sniggered.
“No silly. I use Drustina’s cock, don’t you?”
“We’ve shared stuff.” Astos confessed demurely. “But we’ve not done the necessary yet.”
“Oy. D’you mind not talking about me as if I’m not here.” Drustina protested.
Astos giggled and made to go down and suck Drustina’s cock again. Drustina tapped him smartly on the crown of his head.
“Hey. That won’t beget a bloody baby. You’re going to have to bite the bullet ... and not that one either!”
Astos looked across at Arina and nodded to Drustina.
“She’ll have to go. I’m a bit shy with women.”
“How d’you know. Amitor said you’ve never been with one.”
“The cheeky cow! I have been with them but couldn’t do it.”
“Will you be able to do it with me then?” Drustina asked.
“If I can get fixated on your cock; yes.”
Drustina shrugged and motioned to Arina to make herself scarce. Arina frowned and returned to the annexe where she’d spent the night alone. Drustina smiled into Astos’s nervous eyes.
“I suppose you’d better go for my cock then; if it gets you better accustomed to my body, so much the better.”
Astos grinned and eagerly resumed sucking. It wasn’t long before Drustina responded and she let out a very unmaidenly grunt of delight when she orgasmed. As she humped and groaned she reached out to pull Astos’s head to her own but instead Astos guided her hand to his own stiffening organ. Drustina sensed success and she giggled.
“We’d better use that while we can; lover.”
Astos seemed unsure but Drustina carefully eased the smaller man on top of her and gently spread her legs as she matched her female part to his male. Astos groaned contentedly as he felt Drustina’s male part stiffen between them and he probed curiously with his erection as Drustina eagerly humped her vagina onto his cock and finally completed the union. Astos let out a mild squeak of surprise as he suddenly found his length enveloped by the slippery velvet scabbard. He humped curiously as he savoured the strange experience then he whispered.
“It’s easier than a boy but it feels just as good. Can you squeeze me like when you clench your arse?”
“Shut up and hump.”
“No I mean it Drustina, can you clamp your cunt around me?”
For an answer Drustina exercised muscles that even other women didn’t have for her duality lent some added skills to her lower anatomy. She pressed her prostate gland as though making to pee but instead her cervix and vagina walls contacted with a vice-like grip. Astos squealed with surprise.
“Oooww! Shit girl, go easy. Where did you get those muscles?”
Same place I got my cock, balls, cunt and tits.
“Jee’ze! Your stronger than any boy I’ve been with, do it again but gentler.”
Drustina frowned impatiently. “Oh okay then. By the Gods, you’re a fussy bugger. Just hump boy! I’ll do the rest and milk you dry!”
She felt Astos physically relax as he settled down into a regular rhythm. After several strokes she repeated her earlier contraction but more gently. Astos let out a soft groan and started pumping more vigorously. Drustina realised that she might be getting a result.
It came quickly after that. Astos let out a gasp and grunted several times as Drustina felt the semen doing much as Torvel’s semen did, splatter against the walls of her vaginal scabbard. She did not share a mutual orgasm for she had climaxed earlier from Astos’s oral ministrations but she savoured the thought that she could still work her magic on one who had been deemed by everybody to only function with boys. Drustina was doubtful that she had conceived though for she was at the wrong time in her cycle. The healer woman of Carthage had explained everything to her when she had become pregnant to Torvel. Initially, she had anticipated awaiting the right time in her cycle then going to Astos’s bed at or soon after commencing the voyage up the Nile for the state visit. As Astos completed his pleasures Drustina gently held him to her breasts. He sighed and nuzzled her which caused her to giggle.
“D’you like them?” She whispered.
“What; these?”
“What else silly?”
“I prefer your other attributes.” Astos replied without any hint of guilt. “Before the Christian’s came, Sapphic and Homoic love was acceptable.”
“And what about monsters, abominations?” Drustina wondered aloud.
Astos looked at her.
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean freaks, oddities; people like me?”
Astos gaped at her.
“You may be an oddity my lady but you were never a monster. Nor where you an abomination. That’s the Roman thing. We Copts strive to stop such censure. If you were born as you are then that is how the lord God made you. Who is man to adjudge the will of God?”
“So you do not see me as a monster?”
“Hell no! You’ve just enabled me to father a child. My seed lies in you. If you are with child then how can you be a monster?”
“Will you look after the child? Will you be able to care for it?”
“My God girl! I am king of Egypt. I have servants aplenty, the child will want for nothing.”
“Except perhaps a mother.” Drustina observed guiltily.
“The child will have an aunt and a cousin to grow up with. Amitor cannot wait for you to have my child. She will mother it like her own. Besides, you do not have to leave us; there is even a crown if you remain married to me.”
“I’m not married to you now,” Drustina cautioned him.
“It will be a simple ceremony then you can divorce me as soon as the child is born. Provided we are technically man and wife when the child is born, then the child is my legitimate heir.”
“What happens if our child and Amitor’s are the same sex?”
“My child; that is your child ... our child has precedence to the throne.”
“And Amitor’s child?”
“Will still be a member of the royal family and enjoy such privileges and benefits as befits them.”
Drustina nodded slowly. Provided the child she would be forced to leave behind was treated properly and enjoyed the nurturing of a good mother in Amitor, Drustina was happy. The pair unravelled from their embrace and started to eat the food Arina had delivered. Drustina called through the door and Arina joined them. They discussed the plans for the state visit up the river as they finished their breakfast then Astos returned to affairs of state.
The Angry Mermaid 31
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 31.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
This chapter describes Drustina's love for Astos and the conception of his baby. A romantic interlude.
Hope you like it.
Preparations for the state visit to Nobatia went apace whilst bedroom activities followed a conventional route. The royal barge was made suitable for King Astos and his newly acquired bride to legally consummate their ‘marriage’. Drustina even underwent a token conversion to Christianity purely to facilitate her wishes to meet with the great Queen Meronee whose ancestors had so successfully resisted the might of Rome and its heirs who now occupied Constantinople.
Torvel was reluctantly required to remain behind because there was no evidence yet of Amitor being pregnant. Besides, Amitor had to rule as Viceroy in Astos’s stead.
As the vast procession set off from its base in Alexandria, Torvel was condemned to stand beside Amitor on the quayside watching as the royal procession took most of the late morning to pass. It was gone high noon before the last barge disappeared up the river.
Drustina naturally had The Angry Mermaid in her care and the nimble ship kept darting amongst the barges as Arina and Dru kept dashing hither and thither to take a closer look at some point of interest as the procession steadily beat its way upriver. Periodically some guard ship warned of some new bank or shoal left by the recently abated floods and farmers were to be seen eagerly digging at the rich mud deposits to spread on their farms to either increase their holding over the desert sand or to repel the encroaching wind-born menace of that same desert sand. The farmer’s efforts also served to keep the main channel clear.
Drustina became fascinated with these activities and also with the strange drums that had internal spirals that rotated the water out of the river and lifted it several cubits, to in turn irrigate even greater areas of the low-lying delta land.
The first night they arrived at the primary furcation of the main channel and the narrow delta channels combined to form the main single channel of the great river. Drustina and Arina were impressed. As they dined with Astos that night, the court cartographer described what they knew of the great waterway.
“Nobody has ever found where this river is born but we have to travel many hundreds of stadia even to get to a place where two great tributaries become one. This is even further up the river than Meronee’s kingdom. Further than that and you enter a vast marsh or swamp where it is impossible to pass. The natives are secretive and dangerous and there are many wild beasts such as you have seen in the menagerie. After that, the local people say that the river ascends into great forests that take many days and even months to cross. Nobody has ever knowingly returned from there because they become sick and die. The whole vast land is an evil and poisonous place. Some native peoples, who seem to live without difficulties, have returned with our explorers and they have told of wonderful things. Much gold and precious stones but it is all unproven myth and story. Several times, Queen Meronee has sent out an expedition and every time, if they return at all, they return with reports of hardship and death. Some of our more adventurous young men have joined the expedition and they have reported the same tribulation. We are just thankful for the river below the great Sudd marshes. Beyond the marshes we must leave it to the devil and the death that waits there. There is much sickness over those lands. The water that issues from the marshes however, is pure and sweet. The best water in the whole Nile.”
Drustina listened with fascination and pictures flashed through her imagination. She asked of the peoples who were reputed to live there.
“We know little of the people who live in the great marsh or those who live in the great forests above it.” The Cartographer replied.
“They must be very special people to live amongst that sickness and not be affected.”
“All we know for certain is that they are dark skinned like Queen Meronee, some say even darker.”
“Why is that?” Drustina pressed. “Why are the people darker skinned?”
The cartographer shrugged.
“I’ve no idea. You ask a lot of questions that can’t be answered.”
“It’s in my nature,” Drustina smiled. “My curiosity combined with my duty to bring me all the way here from my lost lands.”
“Yes, the cartographer nodded sagely. Tomorrow it is your turn to tell of your lands and the great ocean beyond the Pillar’s of Hercules.”
Drustina nodded and King Astos intimated that the meal was over. The last of the food had been cleared away and the wine had made everybody mellow. Drustina noticed that King Astos drank very little. He smiled invitingly and Drustina nodded.
“Are you okay for tonight?” He whispered.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Good then we shall moor here for tonight. Nobody will expect us to stop here and there will be no chance of disturbance.”
She smiled. The king was just too caring and considerate to be a man. He obviously wanted some sort of peace and privacy away from the pomp and ceremony that accompanied his every normal stop. The barge crew secured the vessel to the bank and stood guard ashore to ensure the royal couple’s privacy. As peace and quiet settled on the barge, Astos whispered.
“Is this peaceful enough? Are you ready now my lady?”
“Yes I am lover. I am entering my fertile cycle. Come let us find out what joys we can indulge tonight.”
“I thought so,” he replied, “I keep a diary now also.”
Drustina grinned and kissed him in front of the last departing dinner guests. Eventually the barge was deserted except for the two and Drustina murmured privately.
“Is that why you drank little?”
He grinned guiltily and nodded. Drustina chuckled as they made their way to the royal cabin and the royal bed.
“You take more care and preparations than the stud farmers in Alexandria.” She remarked
“I want it to work. I want to be a father to a healthy child.”
“Have you any preferences, boy or girl?”
“Only that it be the opposite sex to Amitor’s baby.”
“Does not this Christian faith I am now entered into, condemn cousin’s marrying?”
“Not first cousins. Besides, their blood is truly mixed this time. Amitor’s baby will have a fine healthy father in Torvel and mine will have a splendid mother. Oh ... you and Torvel are not related in any way are you?” He asked nervously.
“Most certainly not. He is a Celtic Briton from the famous Queen Boudica’s Icieni tribe. I am of the Gangani; we are a tiny tribe who live in the far west. We could hardly be more distant peoples and still be Brithonic Celts.”
Astos smiled as the relief clearly showed. Drustina sensed his happiness and she touched upon it.
“When you first came to me you were tense and frightened, now you seem content and relaxed. Are you reconciled to women now?”
Astos smiled and reached out to touch Drustina and her skin tingled at his light caress.
“No, Drustina, I am reconciled to you. I still favour men, I always will; but fortunately you are manly in many ways. You are a ferocious warrior and yet —“
“And yet what?” Drustina pressed as womanly curiosity took her.
“And yet you are gentle and patient, here, in the bed, with me and my needs. You are almost like a mother to me. For that I have come to like you. I am accursed of this faulty attraction to men though I would not change it for the earth. I know the bishops secretly condemn me for it but they are too afraid to speak of it or voice their protestations. And yet you ... you who those horrible bishops called a monster; have proven to be the most gentle and understanding person I have ever met. It is your personality, your gentleness and yet your mighty courage that has caused me to conclude the bishops are wrong. You were never a monster.
It is hard to believe that the ferocious, fearless warrior who slew so many tyrants and butchers is this same gentle, tender maid, here, with me, in my bed. You are a conundrum Drustina. And yet that puzzle makes you attractive and acceptable to me. For that I worship you.”
With these whispered words a tear came to Astos’s eye and he pressed tight to Drustina’s breasts. His nervous fingers reached up gently and fingered Drustina’s breasts before gently threading them into his mouth.
“Don’t bite them,” Drustina pleaded as her buds stiffened with delight and her cock hardened.
Astos gave a soft muffled sigh and ‘adjusted’ himself. Drustina stroked his back and he gasped as he finally relinquished his gentle grip on her nipples and grasped her masculinity. She rolled slightly on her side to make it easier and Astos let out a soft groan of delight as he slid over her lithesome body and spooned against her back where his organ pressed at her arse. Drustina giggled as she reached around and guided Astos correctly.
“Wrong entrance darling. It’s the wet one at the front.”
Astos reciprocated Drustina’s giggle and curved his back further to reach the correct place. As he finally slipped his organ slowly into Drustina’s receptive sex, he sighed and reached around to feel the strange duality of an opening with a cock where normally there would have been a stiff little bud.
“Can I play with him?” Astos begged.
“There’s nothing I’d like better,” Drustina croaked as her voice betrayed her lust.
The act was quickly consummated but this time, Astos did not withdraw. Instead he lay tightly spooned to her and his cock remained lodged where Drustina found it delightfully agreeable while his smallish hand remained clasping her maleness like a child seeking security. Astos was behaving as a man would and it pleased her. Soon they fell asleep as the waters of the Nile lapped a lullaby against the hull of the royal barge.
∞0∞
Dawn found them still embraced and Drustina was awoken by Astos’s hardening organ. She giggled and whispered.
“Is that a piss stand or are you still pleased to see me?” Astos sighed.
“I’ve got to wee!”
So saying he stood facing outboard, peeled back the heavy silk curtain and relieved himself. Drustina giggled and followed suit as she employed her maleness to exactly copy him. Astos grinned as he watched her stand and direct her pee without the slightest hint of self-consciousness.
“So you are a boy then.” He chuckled.
“When it suits my liege, when it suits.”
“A girl would have to stick her arse out.” He grinned. “Would you have done that if I were not here and did not have to reassure me of your masculine side?”
“What, and have a crocodile bite my bum?” She sniggered.
“Not this far north my darling but they live in the Sudd and sometimes the odd one strays north to Nobatia. Not often though.”
They cleaned themselves with the water provided in the toilet chamber and eagerly resumed their lovemaking. Drustina was impressed with Astos’s enthusiasm. It was amazing what a girl with a cock could achieve in exciting Astos to full functionality. After they had once again consummated their union they fell to pillow talk.
“The rumours tell that you always want to take the woman’s part; is it true?” Drustina asked.
Astos blushed and nodded his confession as he turned away, embarrassed by his revelation. Drustina felt sorry for him and her heart melted.
“D’you want me to do it that way now?”
“What? You mean take me like a maid. I’m afraid I’m no maid.”
“How many partners have you had?” She continued.
“Only one. He’s a member of my personal bodyguard. He used to come to my bed every night.”
Drustina nodded knowingly.
“And now he’s been relegated to your ex. Do you still have feelings for him?”
“Yes. Of course I do. He’s probably standing guard right now on the river bank and jealous of you for having stolen his place in my bed.”
“Is he clean, by that I mean not diseased?”
“Of course he is clean. He came to me as a virgin youth and he has been mine every night. I have other courtiers who ensure he is not allowed to stray or wander.”
Drustina was relieved and she decided to be bold. She was also curious.
“Why don’t you bring him aboard?”
Astos’s eyes widened with gratitude.
“Do you really mean that?”
“I won’t be here once I’ve had your child. It would be churlish of me to steal you from him, give you a child and then just hand you back like some sort of used toy. He would be made to feel like some sort of disposable rag. Go and get him.”
Astos could hardly contain his happiness. He flung his arms around Drustina and kissed her with a furious passion before releasing her and calling out to the guard on the bank. In a few moments a young slender, effeminate youth appeared and smiled at Astos before gazing at Drustina. There was resentment in his eyes but Drustina patted the bed and invited him to join them. The youth’s glare softened as he glanced towards Astos questioningly. Astos nodded and eagerly settled beside Drustina as he repeated Drustina’s invitation. The youth cautiously settled on the bed as Drustina pulled back the sheet to reveal her manhood. The youth’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had heard the rumours but now his own eyes confirmed it for real.
“It’s true; you are a man-maid!” He gasped.
“I am. And I am here purely to give Astos a child. I am not here to steal away his love for you.”
The youth’s smile widened and deepened as he realised he was not to be thrown aside in the interests of royal succession then his brow wrinkled.
“So how am I to be in this new circumstance?” he wondered.
Drustina reached out and pulled him to her breasts.
“Where you have always been, in Astos’s bed and in his heart.”
“But my lady queen, you are in his bed!”
Drustina’s widening smile embraced both Astos and his partner.
“It’s a big bed; big enough for three.”
The youth let out a tearful, choking squeal of joy and flung himself into Drustina’s arms. It took Drustina by surprise and she let out an ‘oomph’ of breath as he took the wind from her chest.
“Hey steady darling,” Astos gasped, “she might yet be carrying my child.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the youth squeaked his apology as he immediately tried to disentangle himself.
Drustina continued to hold him to her as a mother would hold an older child and the youth realised it was a genuine embrace of love. Instead of struggling to escape, he found himself snuggling tighter as though seeking some long lost parental approval. Drustina sensed where the youth had come from. He was yet another person who had been ostracised by the new faith and consequently by his too pious parents. She let him lie wrapped in her arms as Astos reached out and stroked the youth’s hair and face. Drustina sensed the familiar movements as she felt his chest begin to heave. The youth was sobbing.
She spoke softly to Astos.
“Are we to lie together again now or wait until the evening?”
“Sadly, we must wait until evening. Affairs of state demand my attendance. Even here aboard the barge they make one endless procession to my throne.”
During the first day, Drustina had watched the constant procession of river craft to-ing and fro-ing to the barge all day long and realised it was a myriad different petitioners and plaintiffs seeking justice and redress. Astos waited until his boyfriend had stopped sobbing and then he struck the breakfast gong. Even before Drustina had finished dressing, the curtain that separated the throne room from their private cabin was drawn back and a meal presented. Astos was dressed in a light cotton shift and Drustina realised this was his normal attire when sitting as dispenser of justice. It was a simple form of dress, bereft of any badge of rank to set petitioners at ease when they were presented to him. Astos took station upon his throne and invited Drustina and his boyfriend to share food as the first of the petitioners was presented. He turned and whispered to Drustina.
“I would like to hear your opinions on these cases. It will be good practice for you if you ever recover your lands and become a queen in your own right.”
Drustina grabbed the idea wholeheartedly and smiled as the first petitioner approached the table. It was a farmer who claimed that the authorities had stolen some of his land on the bank to build a new jetty. His access to the bank and the length of river bank he held title to had been reduced and this had reduced his water extraction rights. He had been given more land as compensation but he now had insufficient water to irrigate it properly. He was asking for his original water volumes to be reinstated. Astos turned to Drustina in front of the farmer and smiled.
“Well my lady, a simple solution perhaps. An easy case to solve.”
Drustina asked the man if he still had unfettered access to the river. He confirmed that he had but the channel needed repair and maintenance beyond his pocket. The jetty construction had affected the river’s course and the diversion caused constant siltation of his irrigation channel.
Drustina thought briefly then turned to Astos.
“Perhaps a small retaining wall that would also serve to protect the ships on the jetty. Maybe even a dressed masonry wall to facilitate and extra berth.”
Astos smiled.
“You’ll win the hearts of every farmer on the Nile banks with solutions like that but you’ll bankrupt the city coffers of each town that builds a new jetty.”
“Which are we to have my liege? Happy farmers growing plenty of food, or fat city merchants growing fat by exploiting new scarcities caused by loss of irrigable land?”
Astos chuckled as the farmer’s eyes widened hopefully.
“A goodly observation my lady! We’ll make a great queen of you yet. The Lioness of Carthage proves she is also the Sage of the Nile ... the wise old Crocodile of the Nile.”
Astos turned to the presenting courtier and asked the farmer to explain the problem on his accompanying drawings. Drustina was well used to drawings and water solutions and she suggested a jetty profile that would solve the water flow problem. Astos studied it, let out a great uncharacteristic bellow of laughter and nodded. It was a simple and ingenious solution. He turned to the hopeful farmer.
“You shall have your solution and your water rights restored. Your price will be that you must recover more land from the desert behind your farm.”
The farmer’s eyes teared up with gratitude, for the recovery of his full water rights certainly ensured his and his family’s survival. The instruction to expand his farm was not an onerous duty but a licence to increase his productivity and his wealth. It simply remained for him to adapt his irrigation techniques to make the water go further. Drustina suggested a new water screw driven by a wind tower. The biggest expense would be lining the entrance to his newly restored irrigation channel to accommodate the increased flow. The stone construction ensured a more permanent marker and control of his water rights whilst helping also to stabilise the rear of the new jetty. All in all it was an elegant solution and Astos congratulated Drustina.
“You have an eye for construction my queen.”
“I am a boat-builder sire. First and foremost a practical girl.”
“Ayyee-ee and that’s the truth,” he replied thoughtfully as the farmer reversed from the throne room and the next petitioner arrived.
So it went on through the morning and Drustina thought it would never end. Happily lunch arrived and after that the king went hunting with his cheetahs. Drustina was mesmerized by the speed of the animals when free to race across the open desert spaces. She was also enchanted when the graceful animals were brought to the royal barge and she was allowed to lie with them as King Astos treated them like pets. She now understood why Egyptians treated them with the same reverence as they treated cats. Before the evening meal, the king ordered the royal barge to make up time by transiting the next sector by night.
Drustina expected the barge crew to be all dissolute at the prospect but she was pleasantly surprised to find them enthusiastic. Astos explained.
“I am not a tyrant my dear. It is much cooler at night and it is only a short leg to the next town. We will arrive long before dawn and the men will get a satisfactory sleep in the cool of the predawn. Many of the men come from this town and it will give them a chance to visit their families while you can go ashore and explore the shops.”
“What will you be doing?” She asked Astos.
“In the morning I’ll be doing my usual courts and in the afternoon I’ll join you in the town.”
“I think I’d prefer to stay with you in the courts. I have much to learn.”
“Very well, but these are more serious cases. Sometimes murder has been committed as the litigants have tried to further their interests outside the law. Some of it is not pretty.”
Drustina let out a brief guffaw.
“My Lord! You are speaking to Drustina here. I’ve seen more death and horror than you could ever envisage.”
Astos did a double take as he remembered.
“Shit! Of course! I’m sorry Dru; such is your gentle nature that I completely forgot your ferocious past. That speaks volumes for your nature and your wisdom.”
Drustina savoured Astos’s affectionate address by calling her ‘Dru’. It was a sign he was coming to see her as a friend and companion as well as a queen and mother to his child. She leant forward and kissed him in front of the courtiers as they went in to dine. At the head of the procession she inveigled herself between Astos and Muraa, Astos’s youthful lover. She walked between them holding both their hands thereby demonstrating to the whole court that this was how the royal relationship would continue as long as she sat as queen consort. She felt Muraa’s hand tighten with joy as he realised he had not lost a lover but found a supportive friend.
At the evening dinner, Drustina was called upon to talk about her adventures and the barge was already underway before the court was satisfied they had heard enough. As the three prepared for bed the courtier’s boats plied to and fro as they delivered each courtier to their own barges. It was gone midnight before Astos, Drustina and Muraa had peace and privacy in the royal bed chamber.
Astos became the ‘meat’ in the middle of the sandwich and eventually all three fell asleep with contented smiles. The pattern was thus set for the Journey as far as the great pyramids. At this point several overland caravan routes met with the river and a fair sized city was growing just north of the old city of Memphis. Drustina was impressed by the many buildings, especially a solid masonry bridge that crossed the Nile and yet had in its centre arch a drawbridge to let ships pass by raising and lowering the road. Astos smiled at Drustina’s open amazement and curiosity.
“Does it impress you then my queen?”
“Why yes. If ships wish to pass under bridges in my lands, they must drop their mast then raise it again quickly. You will have noticed that the Mermaid has a pulpit pivot to let the mast be lowered backwards to the deck.”
“Well I hadn’t actually but this is the first crossing of the Nile and it has been here for hundreds of years. The ship-gate obviates the need to lower the mast.”
“Yes my liege, it is a splendid convenience. Tell me what is that waterway on the eastern bank? It seems to lead over the land.”
Astos glanced at it and shrugged. It was the old Pharoic Red sea canal that provided a waterway between the red sea and the Nile. Goods could be carried by ship all the way from the mystical Orient to the Pillars of Hercules without once having to be manhandled on pack horses. To Astos, the Red Sea canal was truly old hat. A few hundred years earlier the Emperor Trajan had repaired it and it still functioned. Drustina was astonished to see the ships climbing what looked like steps in the water and the waterway disappeared into the shimmering heat of the Eastern desert.
“It climbs over the hills!!” Drustina cried in amazement. “How does it do that?”
Astos grinned. His new queen seemed so easily surprised for one so well travelled. He was truly proud to be able to show her how the system worked. They brought the Royal barge to a jetty a few miles below the bridge and Astos ordered some horses.
“Now you will see a truly amazing sight my lady. Ships and water going uphill and over the land.”
The royal party rode beside the canal for a mile or so until they came to the first ‘step’. Drustina watched fascinated as a ship was impounded in a small enclosure not much bigger than the ship and then water was run into the enclosure causing it to fill up. As it filled, the water level rose and lifted the ship with it until the level in the enclosure was equal to the next leg of the canal. Drustina was excited to see the ship slide peacefully into the next stretch of the canal after having been lifted some ten cubits. They followed the ship along the canal to the next enclosure and Drustina carefully noted how the wooden ‘gates’ acted like blockers to hold the water in place. She squealed with delight as she finally grasped the principle. Finally the ship had risen a full one hundred cubits and Astos explained that from that point it was all downhill to the Eastern Sea.
Drustina noted that the Mermaid could just fit into one of the chambers. Then she noted that the canal ran through sterile desert and she frowned.
“How is the water fed to those enclosures?”
The engineer who was showing them around explained.
“There are two systems my lady. The first is a very long aqueduct going back hundreds of leagues up the Nile to the sixth cataract. There the Nile water enters the aqueduct and it runs all the way to Memphis then out to the canal. It was a massive undertaking that took our forefathers many hundreds of years to complete. The water enters the Canal about twenty Stadia east of the highest enclosure and it feeds both sections of the canal.”
Drustina quickly grasped the principle then asked about the second. It was all valuable education for her. The engineer explained.
“The second system is not so effective my lady. You noticed those huge windmills a couple of miles towards the bridge on the eastern banks.”
“Yes.” Drustina nodded avidly.
“Well they turn the water screws and a modest amount of water is lifted to feed the canal in times of water shortage. In the dry season only the most essential traffic used to travel the canal but when Emperor Trajan refurbished it, he repaired the aqueducts and enlarged the reservoir. Now the canal is only on reduced capacity for about a month at the height of the dry season.”
Drustina was beside herself with enthusiasm and turned to Astos.
“Please dear husband. May we take the Mermaid to the eastern sea? Just to say we have been there.”
Astos sighed.
“I’m sorry my lady, we have a fairly tight schedule if we are to travel to Nobatia before the water level drops too low; perhaps when we return.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Drustina cautioned him.
Reluctantly, Drustina bid farewell to the Pharoic canal and they resumed their passage up as far as the bridge. The plan was for the whole royal fleet to pass the bridge the next morning.
oo00oo
Authors note.
Comments are always welcome good or bad.
Bev.
In which Drustina finds herself in the thick of a battle.
The Angry Mermaid 32
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 32.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
A commotion disturbed Drustina, Astos and his boyfriend early the following morning. There was a heavy bump against the royal barge and Drustina followed Astos on to the deck clad only their flimsy night attire. Drustina immediately recognised Arina and her beloved ship Angry Mermaid.
"What’s all the disturbance about?” Astos demanded.
“It’s the river,” Arina declared. “There’s quite a strong current running through the bridge and I don’t have the manpower or sweepsmen to navigate through the draw-bridge. We’re going to have to sail it so I want Drustina to resume command for the passing though the bridge. It’s a bit risky with only me and a couple of Navigation apprentices.”
Drustina listened to Arina and studied the flow sucking and gurgling between the numerous arches of the bridge. ‘The girl was right,’ she concluded and she told Astos the situation.
“I’m afraid if we are to bring the Angry Mermaid above the bridge my husband, then I had best help Arina with the navigation. It’s going to take skilled hands and good seamanship to make it safely.”
Astos frowned. He had hoped to lead the procession through the bridge with Drustina sat beside him on the consort’s throne, thus making a huge spectacle of their formal arrival in Memphis. If his wife had recourse to resume command of her beloved ship it would detract somewhat from the pomp of the occasion. Already a fleet of his cousin’s river craft had arranged to join with the royal progress above the bridge and then escort the king’s procession up to the royal Palace on the banks of the river in the centre of the city. Reluctantly he acceded to Drustina’s pleas and motioned the crew to prepare for the transit of the bridge. Drustina gave her apologies and rejoined Arina on the Mermaid.
Arina explained the situation and described the abilities of the two apprentices.
“They’re willing lads but they’ve only ever worked the ship in the broad open waterway. This bridge is tricky. We’re going to have to gather some speed to make it through the drawbridge and maintain steerage against the current. They should have made the draw-bridge opening much wider.”
“The bridge would be too long and too heavy to operate then.” Drustina observed and Arina felt forced to agree. It was going to be a tricky bit of navigation with some nifty seamanship.
Drustina looked up at Astos on the deck of the huge royal barge as the sweepsmen made ready with their oars.
“What’s the order of procession dear lover?” She asked.
Astos grinned and explained.
“It will not do for the queen to follow any but the king. You will follow me through the bridge then the rest of the herd can follow as per rank and status. All the rest is prearranged. My Chamberlain is explaining to the captain of the fleet. The only change is that the Mermaid now comes second.”
Drustina nodded and blew Astos a kiss as she, Arina and the two young apprentice boys took the Mermaid to wait mid stream. Drustina turned to watch the royal barge manoeuvre to the centre of the stream and line up for the bridge transit. She waved at Astos sat proud but lonely on the throne. He waved back as the barge accelerated towards the cut and the bridge rose. She turned to Arina as they prepared their pre-arranged approach.
The light northerly wind would assist them as they passed southwards up the river and through the bridge so they took the Mermaid to the far bank and put her on a fairly broad reach to gather as much speed as they could. Like the faithful steed she was, Mermaid sprang to her task and within a few short lengths they were speeding towards the bridge after the royal barge had passed through it. Arina stood ready with the apprentices at the sheets to trim the sails as they made the cut. Drustina was judging her approach carefully and smiled at Arina as they closed the gap. Then, to everybody’s astonishment, the bridge started to lower.
Arina shrieked her warning even as Drustina had to swing sharp to port and abort her approach.
“What the bloody hell are the fools about?” The older apprentice cursed as he stared stunned at the closing bridge.
Drustina just gaped in shock. Another few ship-lengths at that speed and the Mermaid would have collided with the bridge and in all probability, lost her mast. Her heart was pounding with tension and all of them had gone white-faced with shock. She bellowed a curse at the bridge operatives and took the Mermaid close to where the royal barge had been tied up. Her plan was to find out what the hell the bridge operators were about. Then Arina and she spotted a platoon of troops approaching and the girls shared suspicious glances.
“What do they want?” Arina asked.
“I don’t know ... they don’t look friendly.”
“But they’re Astos’s soldiers.”
“If they are, they’re wearing different coloured tunics. Theirs are green. Astos’s royal guard is blue.”
“It must be the local regiment. Hail them lad.” Drustina instructed one of the apprentice lads who had a powerful voice.
He bellowed across the narrowing gap and the platoon commander instructed them to land on the jetty. The lad turned to Drustina wonderingly.
“Why do they want us to land? We are supposed to follow the barge.”
Drustina turned to look over her shoulder and spotted mayhem developing below the bridge. The royal procession was a shambles as barges aborted their prearranged order of procession and the king’s guard boats fretted impotently awaiting the bridge to open.
Drustina called to the platoon commander on the jetty.
“Open the bloody bridge! What fool closed it?”
“The mechanism has jammed!” The platoon leader shouted back.
“Well why did they lower it and how did they lower it? The bridge was supposed to remain raised up until the whole procession has passed!”
The platoon commander shrugged and Drustina smelt a rat. Without even warning her crew she swung the Mermaid about and steered for the senior guard ship. As she approached, the guard captain called to her for from his lofty position he could see over the bridge to the upper reaches towards Memphis.
“Are you alright my lady?”
“Yes Captain, they say the bridge is broken.”
“Broken my arse. They lowered it deliberately. Did you not see the operators lowering it normally?”
“No Captain. We were too low and too close. Have you spoken to the bridge?”
“No, there are local soldiers occupying it.”
“What!!” Drustina shrieked. “But you are supposed to be guarding the king at all times.”
“Nobody knows that better than me your majesty. They have laid a trap. Already I see two of the governor’s fighting ships approaching from Memphis.
Drustina cursed. The rat was beginning to stink and she became more and more certain some sort of trap was being set. She expressed her opinions to the captain who nodded vigorous agreement.
“Dammit, how are we to get to the king in time. We will have to take the bridge first and then repair it because they’re bound to sabotage it.”
Drustina peered fearfully between the arches and watched the royal barge holding its position as the sweepsmen halved their numbers to join with the meagre Praetorian Guard and protect the king. Astos had already realised that evil was afoot for he stood with sword in hand and his beloved boyfriend beside him preparing to sell their lives dearly. The remaining half of the sweepsmen held the barge’s position in mid stream out of bowshot range from the banks. She cursed as the captain screamed at his men to drive the barge under the next tiny arch. Drustina cursed.
“You’ll never get under there Captain! Your ship is far too large.”
“I know my lady, my plan is to jam my ship between the pillars of the arch and then land my men ashore. If we can take the bridge quickly then there’s hope. The second guard ship can perhaps rescue the king.”
“There’s no time Captain. Lend me thirty of your best men each with sword and bow.”
“What d’you intend to do?”
“I think I might be able to make it through one of the arches on the far bank. The wind was strongest there and the current weakest.
Drustina heard Arina gasp and then giggle nervously.
“That’ll be a first woman. I suppose you’ll want me and the boys to drop the mast then raise it again?”
“You’ve got it girl. Do the apprentice boys know how it’s done?”
“Aye. While you were away with your fancy king, I’ve been busy teaching the boys.”
“Aye well it was all in the line of duty albeit a pleasant duty. Get to the bolts and ready the mast for a quick drop and re-erection.”
Arina was all efficiency as Drustina thumped the Mermaid alongside the barge and the captain accompanied his chosen men as they leapt skilfully into the Mermaid.
“Should you not be with your ship Captain?” Drustina asked.
“My duty is to protect the king. The lieutenants can attack the bridge. Can you get this craft through the arches? What about the mast?”
“Take any men you have that know seamanship and Arina will explain.”
The captain ordered four men to assist Arina and then Arina released the apprentices to attend the sheets. The remaining soldiers followed the apprentice’s instructions and, as the sails filled with wind, the Mermaid took the bone between her teeth. Drustina turned grim-faced to the captain.
“We’ll only get one chance at this. Once the soldiers on the bridge realise our intentions they’ll post bowmen all along the parapets. It’ll be like attacking a fortified city.”
“You’ve voiced my very thoughts my lady. I hope the Lioness of Carthage still has her skills.”
“My bow and my sword still serve Captain; let the gods be with us, get ready. Have your men stand wide at the rails for that mast is going to come down quickly and go up quickly.”
Even as she spoke, she swung the tiller and the Mermaid swept in a tight arc as Drustina noted the mast forestay slacken in preparation.
Drustina knew she didn’t have to shout ‘get ready’ for every man and woman on the ship knew what was about. As the mermaid hurtled towards the arch the sail seemed to fill Drustina’s vision. She cursed as the mast started to lower and the baggy sail started to completely block her view. Then to her relief she heard Arina’s high-pitched girlish voice shriek instructions.
“Port five!”
Drustina felt a wave of relief, she had not foreseen the sail blinding her view but the ever alert Arina had. It spoke volumes for Arina’s competence and confidence that she has seen fit to call out the correction right at the critical moment. Then the mast was low enough for Drustina to see again and to her immense satisfaction, the apprentices had quickly spotted that there was still some wind to be used by the sail. They had all the redundant soldiers duck their heads while they made their helpers pull on the lower sheets. The sail tightened ever so slightly but enough to ensure the mermaid got through. It now all depended on Drustina’s steersmanship. She felt a fear gnawing at the pit of her belly as the Mermaid hurtled relentlessly towards the narrow gap. The captain let out an oath and Drustan smiled at the sight of his white knuckles gripping the rail beside her. Then they saw a sickening sight as bowmen appeared on the bridge parapets above. Not many but enough to cause mayhem. The captain spotted them first and he bellowed to his men.
“Form a turtle. Six men to me, protect the tiller.”
The orders were short and precise, it was obvious that these guardsmen were both sailors and soldiers and Drustina sagged with relief as she felt the seven shields cover her, for the Captain had joined his men to form an umbrella of shields over her head. Not a moment later the first salvo of arrows crashed into the shields and gave loud clangs as they bounced off harmlessly. The same salvo set up a rattle of death the length of the Mermaid as arrows thumped into the woodwork and clashed against metal shields. A moment later the Mermaid was under the arch and the soldiers skilfully twisted their shields around as the captain bellowed his order.
“Cover the crew’s backs while they hoist the mast!”
Drustina smiled to herself. ‘One hoisted sails and raised masts!’ But she forgave the captain his small error. Everybody had understood his intent and Drustina smiled as she heard Arina’s sweet soprano voice calling instructions from under the turtle-shell of shields. As they shot out from under the arch, there was another rattle of arrows bouncing harmlessly off metal shields and then the mast was up again and the sail filling with wind. The Mermaid had done it! She gathered speed and distance to put her safely out of bowshot from the bridge. Tears of relief filled Drustina’s eyes as the captain let out a whoosh of relieved breath.
“My God your majesty. That was as close as I’d ever wish to come to death!”
“So say we all captain. Check your men for injuries. I see my first mate and her apprentices are safe and I thank you for your care of them.”
“We’re not finished yet my lady. Our task is just begun, look there are two of those blasted fighting ships.”
“Aye. Well you’ve seen what my beloved Mermaid can do. You have yet to see what skills my first mate has when it comes to inter-ship fighting. You’ll yet have the day to thank her for her skills.”
“Indeed my lady and in a girl so young. That is a remarkable combination to find in a seasoned veteran.”
“Well. Enough of compliments Captain, what are your soldier’s best skills to tackle this situation that approaches.”
“We have practiced many times for just such an eventuality my lady. The guards on the royal barge will know exactly what we do and they will prepare accordingly. I have thirty one bows and swords to fight this battle. Not many but they are bloody good men. Just note how well they formed two turtles, one around you and one around Arina. These men know their job my lady.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction. The ‘turtles had been an excellent defence and not one man had received any wounds whilst her poor Mermaid looked like a porcupine.
As she watched the approaching fighting ships, Arina arrived aft. Drustina welcomed her with informal friendliness as the relief coursed through her veins.
“What ho Arry?”
“They’re good lads Dru. The two apprentices hardly had to explain anything. It all went like clockwork.”
The captain smiled at the informality between the girls. His sergeant noticed it as well but the captain whispered assurance.
“These two have been through many adventures together sergeant; they are entitled to be familiar with each other. Let us just be thankful that they have enabled us to help our king. Now. Lets pluck all these arrows from the woodwork; they’ll make useful ammunition for our own use.”
Having been given a useful task to occupy his men the sergeant turned to employ the men. Some had already anticipated the idea and the sergeant went forward to chat to the apprentices. At the stern, the captain chatted with Drustina and Arina. To the captain’s surprise and delight, Drustina explained her thoughts. Arina and he were to organise the main fighting while Drustina informed him she actually had her battle bow secreted aboard the Mermaid and she would act as long range artillery. He grinned with satisfaction as she went forward and rummaged around in the tiny cuddy. The sergeant’s eyes widened with satisfaction as she produced her now famous battle bow and waved it at the captain in the stern. The sergeant remarked with evident satisfaction for the sight of the famous bow had immediately raised moral amongst the men who knew the difficulties facing them.
“My God your Majesty, if I’d known that was lying under there, I’d have borrowed it myself. I’m presuming you’re intending to use that.”
“I am indeed sergeant. I will be here right alongside you while the captain and Arina run the ship from aft. Once we engage, my functions as a commander are redundant; Arina has all the necessary skills to aid and abet the Captain-of-the-guard’s plan.”
“Well I’m honoured my lady, to have fought alongside the Lioness of Carthage will be something I can tell my grandchildren ... if I survive;” he finished thoughtfully.
“Indeed if any of us survive sergeant, now to task sir; that barge is almost in range of my bow and the river is flat as glass. They will be easy shots.”
The sergeant measured the distance with a practiced eye and frowned thoughtfully.
“Can you really hit from this range?”
“Enough to frighten them. The arrow will get amongst them and probably kill, but we need to be another couple of hundred cubits nearer to be accurate and pick my targets. Watch.”
All the soldiers watched with interest as Drustina poised gracefully in the bow and released her first arrow. It sailed high in the air and landed, as she had predicted amongst the higher ranks gathered on the raised afterdeck of the barge. A man staggered and a circle of fear immediately opened up around him, the soldiers on the Mermaid immediately cheered. It was first blood to them. Drustina turned to the soldiers and frowned. She sensed that a couple of hundred years of peace in Egypt had bred a whole nation of peaceable individuals.
‘Not cowards,’ Drustina knew, ‘but men unused to the shock, horror and sheer bloody terror of battle.’
‘If they thought it was going to be easy, they were in for a cruel shock,’ she reflected sadly.
Few of the men had even realised the range that Drustina had chosen was almost impossible for their short counter bows. Her Welsh bow’s longer draw and longer arrows gave the Mermaid a virtual ‘long range artillery. Only the older sergeant had realised that Drustina’s bow gave them a limited advantage until her ammunition ran out and they were forced to engage at closer range for the Eastern counter bows to have effect. He spoke softly to Drustina so his men would not pick up on his real fears.
“Might I suggest you wait my lady until you can make your shots really count?”
“My thoughts entirely sergeant; Arina knows what to do and she will be explaining the tactics to the captain. She will race up the river as he comes down then she will turn about smartly and we will sail parallel to the lead barge and just out of range of their arrows whilst Arina measures her speed to avoid lateral displacement of my arrows. Then you shall see accuracy.”
“Who do you shoot for first?” The sergeant asked.
“Who is the highest rank? You understand their badges.” Drustina replied.
The sergeant smiled thoughtfully and explained how to identify the officers. Drustina nodded her head and explained how she chose her targets by rank and location.
“You’ll note sergeant; they often put an officer at the bow to lead the boarding parties. Once the captain or commander is dead or disabled they have to re-arrange their command structure and this leaves their vessel temporarily disadvantaged. That is when Arina turns in, reduces the range and your men have a shot at them before we close. In a few minutes, just watch, that first barge will be at sixes and sevens. Now might I suggest you remove your own badges of rank?”
The sergeant hesitated.
“But how will my men know me.”
Drustina grinned. “Sergeant, every man here knows you well enough to recognise you and your orders. Now just look aft; the captain is removing his fancy paraphernalia so he is not a prime target, you do the same and you’ll better survive this day. Once we get in close, have every other man form that turtle thing with their shields whilst the man beside him fires his bow.”
“It will lessen our fire power.” The sergeant cautioned.
“Yes indeed sergeant, but with each pass we prolong our chances of survival. Each fighting man on that ship has to protect his sweepsmen and that’ll be preoccupying them as well. Look how the captain and the corporal are shielding Arina. She will be the prime target for their bows once we are in range.”
“Shall I protect you my lady?”
“Thank you sergeant, I was hoping you’d offer your services. My long shield is beneath our feet in the little cuddy. Perhaps if you can fetch it please? We are getting close enough for me to do some real damage. Oh ... you will also find a biggish bundle of longer arrows with rags tied to the tips. They are fire arrows and there’s a little bag with some flint and yellow fire rock.”
The sergeant went into the little cuddy and rummaged around until he found all the things Drustina had described and he returned as Drustina was about to open their account. He watched with admiration as Drustina released her first telling shot and the highest ranking officer fell with an arrow in his shoulder. He let out a howl and the cluster of officers around him immediately scattered. They did not want to be next and a tight group made an easier target. The sergeant recognised an accurate bowman when he saw one and slipped amongst the men to raise moral.
Drustina’s next arrow took out the drummer who led the rhythm for the sweeps and her third catapulted the boarding officer over the side with its force. He had been perched recklessly on the rail waiting for his chance of glory to be first to board the royal barge.
Drustina turned to the sergeant as he returned from passing a quiet message of encouragement to his small band of soldiers. He had missed the drummer’s demise but just caught the sight of the bowman tumbling overboard. All three had been wearing fancy uniforms with badges of rank. It was a salutary lesson to the sergeant, the captain and the corporal. The sergeant smiled as he watched the remaining officers frantically shedding their paraphernalia and the ship remained leaderless for long moments while Drustina picked off two more high rankers as they struggled and stood immobilised while they unbuckled their fancy cuirasses. The sergeant hugged himself with joy as he watched the poop and prow become void of officers as they sought shelter from the deadly onslaught. He turned and smiled at Drustina.
“At this rate my lady, we’ll have no need to fight.”
“That’s my wish sergeant. Remember we have the second vessel yet to tackle and she has already learned the lessons of displaying rank in battle.”
The sergeant watched as the second vessel hove to whilst the officers made themselves anonymous but this too had a detrimental effect for now the numerous crew had to double check every time an order was given to ensure that it was a rightful order. The second ship’s rigid discipline now began to work against it. Men were doubly slow to respond until they were sure of the order’s source.
The second ship’s hesitation gave the Mermaid’s crew a chance to make a final pass at close range. They fired their pitifully small salvo of a dozen arrows or so then Arina took the Mermaid out of range again. Drustina had managed to ignite a ‘fire arrow’ behind the sergeant’s guard and she fired it at the man at the helm. This man could not hide for he had to man the tiller and nobody had thought to offer him protection as Arina was covered by the captain and the corporal aboard the Mermaid. Drustina’s flaming arrow struck him in the arm and pinned his arm to the tiller. He screamed in pain and cried for help but nobody was prepared to risk Drustina’s deadly bow. His struggle with the tiller caused the barge to swing sideways across the current but there was nobody sure enough of their authority to give orders to the sweepsmen and chaos soon ensued. The men on the Mermaid watched fascinated as the mighty Nile took hold and swept the barge towards the stone pillars of the bridge. In a minute the barge was slammed sideways across two pillars and pinned there by the Nile’s force. Already the flames had caught hold and the crew would be preoccupied with extinguishing them. Drustina fired a couple more ‘fire-arrows’ at critical spots on the trapped barge then Arina took the Mermaid back to assist the royal barge.
“One down, one to go comrade,” Drustina smiled at the grinning sergeant.
“My God lady, you are a cunning warrior!”
“Let’s be thinking about this second ship sergeant. They’ll not fall for our subterfuges. Look they have posted a guard around the tiller and the drummer and they are sluicing down the woodwork to wet the timbers.”
The sergeant’s smile faded.
“We have a fight my lady.” He observed ruefully.
“Yes but we have an ally now. Look the royal barge has decided to assist us because the king is now at less risk, how many men has it got?”
“Ah! I completely forgot about her! She has about a hundred sweepsmen and fifty men at arms. That mean’s his cousin’s ship still outnumbers us there must be nearly two hundred men on that barge if we count all the sweepsmen.
“Yes,” Drustina conceded, “but we outnumber them with ships, our two to their one.”
Drustina called aft to the captain but it was obvious that he and Arina had already realised the benefits of joining with the giant royal barge. Arina had already set course to meet her as she sped clumsily across the river. When they came within earshot Astos was overcome with relief and joy to see his beloved Queen in full fighting form and also his most loyal captain proving his courage and ingenuity. They exchanged plans and materials such as cooking oil from the royal galley in exchange for the arrows. The royal barge had plenty of cooking oil and silk while the Mermaid had a surfeit of arrows sticking in her hull and woodwork. After sorting the ammunition out, a pincer move was swiftly arranged. The barge would move slowly upstream while the Mermaid would act like a terrier snapping at the attacker’s heels.
Drustina cautioned the royal barge to ditch all the remaining fancy silks and brocades as they were a fire hazard; then, on second thoughts she had a better idea. They would make splendid firebrands when wrapped around arrows to return the fire that the attacking barge was obviously preparing. As she suggested the ploy to Astos he immediately had his guards preparing the ammunition using cooking oil from the galley. Soon the attacking galley approached to within range of Drustina’s bow and she let fly with fire arrows even before the barge could fire back. Arina and the Mermaid’s men looked on with contentment as Drustina’s stream of arrows landed haphazardly amongst the attackers. They watched with evident satisfaction as the oil burned with a thick, black cloud and soon the second barge was partially blinded by its own smoke. Drustina smiled knowingly at the sergeant as Arina took the Mermaid into the smoke to hide her close approach. She spoke to the sergeant softly for they were now within earshot of the warship and yet still invisible in the smoke. She could tell by the coughing that things were goin awry aboard the enemy barge but when they closed it would still be a vicious fight.
“Tell your men to fire salvos blind at first then when we can see them, they choose their targets and fire at will. That is when we are at most risk for be assured Sergeant the enemy will respond very quickly.”
Even as she spoke the Mermaid’s crew heard shouts from somewhere in the smoke. They were screams of anger and rage that told Drustina that the royal barge must have opened up from the windward side. They could even hear the royal arrows thunking into the attacker’s woodwork and clanging off the enemy’s turtle. Still they could not see or be seen inside the smoke screen emitting from the enemy. The smoke was now causing the men on the Mermaid to choke and Drustina realised they were in danger of incapacitating themselves. They could not hide much longer. The men were struggling to stifle their coughs.
She whispered to the sergeant.
“Have all your men fire of two salvoes blind, never mind the turtle, we cannot be seen.”
Recognising the ploy, and keen to give his men a sense of action the sergeant tapped his shield twice with his sword. Drustina smiled at the effective signal and her smile widened when a heavier more sonorous clank came back from aft. The captain had confirmed the order by tapping his heavier bronze shield and immediately the first salvo whooshed away blindly into the source of the smoke. The crunch of arrows thumping into wooden rails and the occasional shout told everybody that the Mermaid’s men had scored a hit. The second salvo immediately followed with the same result. The sergeant smiled and turned but Drustina was nowhere to be seen, she had dashed aft to speak to the captain and Arina.
“I’ve an idea.” She coughed.
“Quickly girl,” the captain choked back, these fumes are choking us.
“Take the Mermaid out of the smoke and upriver of the barge. Then turn short about and bring her to bear on the barge’s after oars as fast as she can go. The impact will smash some oars then we turn our bow into her side and let the river swing us around and carry us clear.
“We won’t have the force to break many oars Dru. Our ship is small and light.” Arina cautioned.
“I know, but if we just break a few it will make their ship that much harder to control. Have six of your best archers join me and the sergeant in the bow and six with shields to protect us.”
“D’you intend to board?” The captain frowned. “Six is not enough.”
“No, but we can set up a constant barrage of fire arrows from the bow as we approach. Also by attacking from their stern we force the traitors to turn sideways to face us while exposing their flanks to the royal barge. We split their forces and that gives the Royal barge numerical superiority as they close with that treacherous cousin. That’s the advantage of having two ships to their one.”
The captain nodded then despatched his corporal to join with Drustina and the sergeant. The corporal tapped chosen men on the shoulder as they picked their way forward. Six bowmen and seven shield-men followed Drustina to the bow. The remaining men formed three secure turtles ready to do as ordered as Arina and the two apprentices brought the Mermaid short around and out of the smoke. For short while she was within range of the traitor’s arrows and Mermaid suffered her first casualties as the crew repositioned themselves and briefly exposed themselves to the warship’s bombardment of arrows. The new man guarding Drustina caught an arrow in his thigh and one of the men protecting the apprentice also got hit fatally. The captain turned ruefully to Arina as he ordered another man from the after turtle.
“They are aiming to disable us.”
“Exactly,” Arina agreed. “They know where our weak points are.”
With visibility returned Drustina looked aft and confirmed everything was under control. Arina nodded and the captain raised his sword to demonstrate that his troop were still operational except for the two casualties. Moral was still high though and this was demonstrated by the wounded man still attempting to protect Arina with his shield even though his comrade stood beside him. Arina set her course and the Mermaid skittered away up stream. Once out of range the crew of the Mermaid busied themselves with saturating the sails and woodworks to withstand the certain onslaught of fire arrows.
Once far enough, Arina turned the ship around and a combination of the Nile’s flow coupled with the broad reach sent the Mermaid streaking back into the fray.
The rapid approach of the Mermaid towards their stern left the traitors in doubt as to the Mermaid’s intentions. A pair of knowing eyes peered uncertainly from their turtle surrounding their helmsman as he studied the Mermaid’s approach. It was King Astos’s treacherous cousin who now realised he was in a real fight. He screamed at a detachment of his men to overwhelm the Mermaid with fire arrows but the Mermaid’s narrow profile and high approach speed coupled with her saturated condition made her a difficult foe to hurt. Drustina had already loosed a couple of her own fire arrows at extreme range and this had served to unsettle the traitors. However the rapid approach speed soon closed the range and the traitor’s ship was soon able to open her account in earnest. As the distance closed, Arina adjusted her course to bring the Mermaid onto the right approach bearing and the bow archers loosed a ferocious salvo of fire arrows to suppress the traitors as the Mermaid prepared for the hit.
Safe behind her turtle of shields, Arina got her approach just about right. The stout oak stem of the Mermaid slammed into the port bank of sweeps and a cruel splintering sound coupled with the screams of the injured sweepsmen added yet brutal melody to the desperate concerto of battle. As the Mermaid’s speed bore her in towards the warship’s rail, the six bowmen in the bow lowered their bows and took up their own shields as all twelve prepared to repel any boarders with their swords. The twelve soldiers plus Drustina and the sergeant would now face the full onslaught of the treacherous warship while Arina worked to free the ship from the tangle of shattered oars.
The men shielding the apprentices handling the sails and sheets had their work cut out protecting the young apprentice lads as they slaved feverishly to reset the sails and pull the Mermaid backwards out of the jam of broken oars trapping her bow. Arrows rained down on the group and several men fell cursing as arrows found tiny chinks in the ‘turtle’ shell. Meanwhile at the stern of the warship where the Mermaid’s bow rested hard against the stern rail of the bigger ship, the defenders on the warship had realised that they outnumbered the fourteen warriors poised ready to prevent anybody boarding. The remaining group of men gathered aft in the Mermaid’s belly realised their arrows would yet help their comrades facing Armageddon up front. They quickly arranged for four men to reform a tiny turtle while the other four desperately fired ordinary arrows into the flank of the traitors while the Royal barge was frantically hammering at the main body of traitors on the other side of the warship. Astos’s cousin’s rage was so incandescent that he and a large coterie of followers flung themselves desperately at Drustina’s tiny band. Standing at the very tip of the bow alongside the sergeant with their swords in hand, Drustina and her comrade in arms found themselves to be fighting at the apex of a wedge formed by the Mermaid’s high boy. Highly visible, they became the main target of the cousin’s rage. Two swords rang out furiously as maid and sergeant fought ferociously to parry the assault. On either side the remaining dozen soldiers fought either with swords or short bows to stop the pair being flanked. The traitors however could not fire arrows inwards into the closely fought fight for fear of hitting their own comrades. The tumult increased until suddenly there was a rending crack as the Mermaid lurched free of the snare of broken oars. Wind and river currents pulled the smaller boat away. Unfortunately the lurch caused both sergeant and maid to lose their footing on the narrow foredeck and both tumbled headlong into the sucking waters of the Nile. As the sergeant fell forwards his guard was opened and he felt the vicious slice of a sword cut deep into his shoulder. He let out a howl of despair before the water swallowed him up. A victorious cheer erupted from the traitor’s ranks as the fighting pair were seen to plunge beneath the muddy waters. A groan of despair rolled out of the ranks of the Mermaid’s crew.
A chapter where Drustina finds herself in the thick of battle again fighting to secure her husband's throne.
The Angry mermaid 33
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
The Captain of the guard saw the incident and cursed as Arina finally broke the Mermaid free from the treacherous barge’s broken oars.
“Dammit. Can she swim?”
“Like a fish,” Arina reassured him. “We were born and bred by the sea. Can your sergeant swim? He looked badly wounded as he fell.”
The captain cursed and was almost tempted to blame Arina for causing the Mermaid to lurch but he knew it was entirely accidental. With a heavy heart the captain concluded he had lost both his sergeant and Drustina. The latter loss left him almost numbed into immobility and it was Arina who had to shout at the men to keep sheltering their comrades and the crew. They responded with heavy hearts as the Mermaid finally slid downstream of the traitor’s barge and Arina managed to get her under control. Fortunately, with the wind blowing across the river, it was an easy task to haul the Mermaid around onto a broad reach again and claw her way upstream away from the grip of the Nile as it rushed between the buttresses of the bridge. It was obvious they were no longer fit to fight but the realised with huge relief, that the Royal barge was now beginning to overpower the cousin’s treacherous crew and it looked quite clearly, that Astos was getting the upper hand. The Mermaid’s efforts had not been in vain.
As the exhausted platoon of men stood recovering their breath and watching their effeminate king actually fighting in the midst of the battle they shared amazed expressions and nodded approvingly. Astos might appear to be some timid and effeminate excuse for a man but he was proving himself at least willing to put his own life and limb on the line. What they did not know was that Astos’s boyfriend had been severely wounded and Astos was fighting in a lover’s rage to avenge the guardsman’s injuries. Steadily the royal barge guard found courage and encouragement from Astos’s uncharacteristic display and they felt, at last, that they had a king worth fighting for as well as a king worth fighting alongside. On the mermaid, now standing off from the fight while her crew recovered their composure out of arrow range, the guard captain turned to Arina.
“What shall we do? Do we rejoin the fight or search for our comrades?”
“We won’t find those two now. The river will have carried them through the bridge. Provided the bridge guardsmen don’t recognise the pair as our men they might get away with it, if Drustina can help the sergeant. There are dozens of men and bodies passing through the bridge from the traitor’s barge. Who knows which are Drustina and our sergeant, if at all?”
Arina’s most mortal and yet unspoken fear was that Drustina’s blond hair would immediately betray her identity even whilst floating in the river. It would invite a veritable cascade of arrows from the bridge that Drustina could surely not survive. She did not mention her fears to the captain for he had worries enough of his own.
With dread causing his heart to thump, the captain decided they might as well resume the fight against the traitors. Nobody had any idea where the two over-boarders might be now. He turned to Arina.
“Shall we resume fighting? The men seem recovered.”
Arina’s shoulder’s sagged. She could not see Drustina’s golden hair anywhere amidst the press of heads gathered in the sucking maelstroms of the Nile's flood that was causing mayhem under the bridge’s many arches. She nodded despondently and the Mermaid returned wearily to engage the traitor’s barge. The job was not finished yet and any assistance they rendered would help King Astos and his men. She nodded to the captain and signalled her intentions to the pair of Apprentices who immediately set to with the sails. The Mermaid commenced close-hauling across the river under the traitor’s stern to first find a suitable angle of attack that most assisted King Astos’s hard pressed and still outnumbered crew. As they closed under the stern, two sights brought them joy and relief. A golden head of hair with a man under one arm and the other hand clinging on to a secure hand hold under the traitor ship’s counter. Drustina recognised the head and nudged the captain who was scanning the tangle of smashed oars where the royal barge had finally closed with the treacherous cousin. Now the blue coated royal guards, though still outnumbered, were struggling to board the traitor’s ship.
The moment the captain realised what Arina had spotted he gave a bellow of relieved joy.
“Steer under the stern and rescue them!”
Arina wagged her head.
“Better I think Captain, that we attack the ship first. Drustina is safe there for now. She’s got a good hold and she’s out of sight from the traitors and she’s more concerned with holding on to the sergeant. She’s got a firm grip, a safe position and nobody can see her under there. Let’s help the king first.”
“But they’re our comrades. I mean she’s your companion, she’ might even yet be carrying the heir to the throne.”
“She knows that better than you or I Captain. She hasn’t made a distress sign to me. We have secret signs between us two. Let’s first help King Astos. It’ll be no good rescuing those two if we all end up in a prison cell. If Astos is defeated the first thing his cousin will do is kill any potential threat to his claim to the throne. That would include Drustina and any baby she might be carrying.”
The captain frowned thoughtfully. His head told him the Celtic girl was right but his heart wanted to rescue the pair.
Reluctantly he agreed to Arina’s plan so they took the Mermaid up river again to lay off broadside to the traitor’s barge and pour arrows as best they could into the soldiers crowded on her decks. They knew they would face an even heavier onslaught of arrows in return but that would detract from the number of traitors and swords King Astos would have to face while attacking his cousin from the other side. They were splitting the traitor’s forces. With two turtles formed up at the rails, the Mermaid set about her attrition. Within an hour the battle was over. Much blood had been spilled by both sides but few of the Mermaid’s crew were wounded. As the cousin’s ship struck his colour the traitor stuck a knife through his own heart and a cheer went up amongst Astos’s remaining men. Meanwhile Arina and the Mermaid’s crew had little time for immediate celebration. They busied themselves under the traitor ship’s stern as they recovered an Exhausted Drustina and a nearly dead sergeant.
“What bloody kept you?” Drustina gasped as she sagged into the rescuing arms of the corporal who had plunged into the river to help her climb aboard.
The corporal grinned with relief as his sergeant coughed to reveal his being alive. He smiled at Drustina as they paddled in the water while the other rescuers tied the sergeant into the lifting sling.
“Why were you lazy two buggers taking a dip when there was a bloody battle to fight?” he asked her as his grin of relief widened across his features until it resembled an idiotic mask. He was just glad and relieved that Drustina and the sergeant were alive.
She smiled. The corporal was somebody she could grow to like. When they finally clambered aboard a cheer of relief went up and only then did the captain notice tears of relief flooding down Arina’s cheeks. Arina had turned away to stare over the stern and hide her tears as her emotions overwhelmed her. He realised then that Arina was still only a maid, and a young one at that.
It was then that the difference between the two women became apparent. Drustina was already rendering help to the badly wounded sergeant and issuing instructions to the crew while Arina was vomiting over the side.
The captain reflected on the situation as he summed up the girls.
‘Both were women and both were as brave as you could ask for,’ he concluded ‘but yet ... one a ferocious fighter, skilled in all weapons and a natural leader no less; the other, a more thoughtful, more cautious, more calculating commander.’ Despite the differences between the two girls, the captain knew he had reason aplenty to be thankful they had both been at his side that day.
‘Or was I at their sides?’ He asked himself.
Having regained his composure he stepped amidships to see what progress the Lioness of Carthage was making with his injured sergeant.
“Will he live?”
“Too early to tell,” Drustina answered phlegmatically, “we’ll have to see what the king’s healer thinks.”
The captain wagged his head and smiled.
“You amaze me girl! Have you got any dry clothes?” He asked as his eyes fell on the tight-fitting wet cotton chemise that revealed more than it hid. Drustina had shed her heavy fighting clothing on falling in the river.
“Only on the royal barge.” She replied. “You’d better put me aboard it or Astos will be wondering what’s happened to me.”
As she said this both she and the captain looked up to see a familiar face staring down at them from the high counter of the traitor’s captured barge. Then the face let out a loud relieved shout.
“I can see what’s bloody happened to you woman. You’re a crazy bitch. What would have happened if you’d been killed?”
“You’d have had to find some other receptacle for your seed!” Drustina shouted back.
The whole of the Mermaid’s let out a roar of laughter. Here was a maid they’d follow to the very gates of hell ... and through them! The captain realised he was in the presence of a natural leader and he bent down joyously to hug her. Ordinarily this act of familiarity with the queen, no less, would have brought him summary execution but that day it was a familiar and privileged action accorded to him only because of his rank and hard-won comradeship.
Astos looked on and nodded approval. ‘Moral was obviously high amongst his palace guard and that could only be a good thing.’
By evening the mess was cleared up and Astos’s barge made a belated torch lit, ceremonial arrival at Memphis.
In that city Astos was forced to hold an emergency court and get word to Queen Amitor of the situation for if there had been plans to kill him, it was a safe bet that his sister’s life was also in danger. Fortunately the king’s healer was able to save the sergeant but the man was condemned to a life without full use of his left arm. The sword thrust had cut some tendons in his shoulder and he could not raise his upper arm properly or use it for strength. The king’s boyfriend also suffered cruelly from his wound for it had damaged his thigh and left him with a severe limp and thus unable to resume duties in the ranks of the King’s bodyguard. Both men found light administrative duties amongst Astos’s staff.
Drustina found herself and the Captain of the Guard co-opted onto the court that Astos had formed quickly to weed out the traitors. It proved to be a difficult and tedious exercise for Drustina was determined to find hard evidence of treachery amongst the old governor’s courtiers. Her forensic efforts fascinated King Astos, and the guard captain followed her activities avidly. He realised that getting to the truth in the long term won King Astos much respect, loyalty and affection as honest men learned that they were not to be punished unjustly. It also delayed Drustina’s journey by four solid months.
During those four months, Arina made herself familiar with the entire length of the Egyptian section of the Nile for she and Drustina had deemed it prudent to hedge their bets if some sort of escape was necessary in the future. Both girls were hard bitten when it came to trust. It also gave Arina the opportunity to collect Seripatese, Drustina’s beloved mare from Alexandria and deliver her in foal to Memphis.
Eventually the situation at Memphis was repaired and Drustina was free to resume her voyage. She, Arina and the two apprentice lads were soon setting forth south to Nobatia. When she and her companions finally brought the Mermaid to the lowest cataract Drustina was already beginning to notice the tell-tale swelling in her belly. She smiled as she felt a similar development in Seripatese.
The Nobatian canal pilot who was to assist them through the canal to bypass the lowest cataract, brought the Mermaid to a lock cut out of the bank. Drustina was pleased to enter it and discover exactly how such a mechanism worked. They entered a system that exactly matched the locks on the Pharoic canal that connected Memphis and the Nile to the Asian seas. Transiting the canal and bypassing the cataracts was a full morning’s work that left them tired, hot and enervated despite having Seripatese and several other horses to help haul The Mermaid between the locks. They had to work the Mermaid slowly through each chamber, then along a short length of canal to the next chamber and repeat the work.
They were busy completing the climb and just departing the last lock chamber when a tall statuesque woman appeared on a splendid horse and flanked by a posse of outriders. Drustina felt fairly sure it was Queen Meronee then the pilot confirmed it. To Drustina’s chagrin, the queen didn’t declare herself to Drustina who was waiting expectantly while Arina, the apprentices and the Nobatian pilot secured the Mermaid to the canal bank. Without approaching closely, the queen studied the craft, said something to one of her retainers, then wrote something on some parchment and rode off again whence she’d come. The main posse accompanied her while the retainer and his servant approached the Mermaid.
“Good day,” he greeted them in Latin. “Are you Drustina the Celt, the guest of King Astos?”
“Yes.” Drustina replied monosyllabically. She was somewhat put out that the Queen had not bothered to greet them herself.
“Then here is your royal carnet to travel the river without let or hindrance as far as Meroe the capital. Her Majesty Queen Meronee will meet you there if she is not otherwise pre-occupied.”
“Preoccupied with what?” Arina challenged.
“It’s royal business. Please do not concern yourselves with it.” The retainer finished as he passed Drustina a hastily written letter.
The two Celtic girls studied the Latin letter and showed it to the pilot. He nodded affirmation that the letter was indeed in the royal hand and signature. He had seen it a hundred times on pilotage carnets and canal navigation permits. He showed it to the apprentices who were now learning to read and write Latin. Drustina sighed but expressed her thanks to the queen’s retainer then they made ready to eat their midday meal. The retainer and his servant looked longingly at the food and Drustina recognised a hungry individual when she saw one. She’d been hungry often enough in her own short life.
“Would you like to share with us? We’ve plenty of food.”
The men nodded and Drustina could see the gratitude in their eyes as Arina prepared some extra rations. Drustina then stepped ashore to start a fire with her flint and pyrites sparking kit. As the fat white sparks fell amongst the kindling Queen Meronee’s retainer looked on curiously.
“What is that golden rock? It cannot be gold if it fires like that.”
Drustina looked at the rock in her hand and shrugged.
“We call it ‘Pyrrhus stone’ because it burns a large hot spark when struck hard with this flint. This stuff comes from Iberia. King Appotel has a mine there and his smiths showed us how to strike it to make the best spark. It’s very useful and makes for a very quick fire.”
The retainer’s eyes widened as he moved in closer to watch. He gave a low squeak of satisfaction as Drustina demonstrated the stone’s effect and a particularly fat spark spat off the stone to immediately ignite the already smouldering kindling. Drustina didn’t even have to blow on the thin wood shavings as the flames took hold and she quickly added fuel. Soon she had a decent fire and Arina was boiling some water for a tea of herbs and spices. Drustina busied herself with the meat as the apprentices prepared some vegetables. As they settled to some hot food the retainer questioned her about the flint and pyrites. Drustina explained and he nodded with evident satisfaction. She gave him a piece of the strange golden stone and realised here was her first opportunity for trade. She unrolled a scroll of parchment and took some ink from her stores to write in Latin of the circumstance as she explained to Queen Meronee’s retainer.
“We are always looking for trading opportunities. If Pyrrhus stone is scarce in Nobatia then this must be an opportunity.”
The retainer rolled the stone in his hand.
“This is not just a trading opportunity. This stone is a weapon. It carries fire without carrying the heat.”
“How so?” Drustina wondered.
“If our archers have to use fire arrows, we carry the fire in small pots of oil. It is dangerous and difficult.”
“Who are you fighting?”
“The Alwa. It is a country further up the great river.”
“Is this what Queen Meronee is pre-occupied with?”
The courtier nodded and sighed at having so easily and accidentally revealed the Queen’s preoccupation. Having rather ‘let the cat out of the bag’ he explained further.
“The Alwans are trying to raise the river tax on their section of the river and all trade south of Makuria has ceased. We are allied with the Makurians but they are weak. Most of the fighting falls to our army.”
“Why hasn’t Astos become involved? Any blockage of the Nile would affect all the countries along its length. We in Egypt haven’t even heard of this war.”
“Egypt is rich and not so seriously affected. Besides, the Alwans were in league with that treacherous cousin Astos defeated so little news was allowed to pass north of Memphis. We have only been fighting for about two months but the logistics are fearful. The river is at its lowest and passage is impossible above the third cataract. The Makurians never built a set of locks to bypass the rocks of the third cataract. We have an army but it is slow going marching troops and supplies across the desert and we have not the man power to provide sweeps for every transport ship. Besides, marching is slightly quicker and it hardens the men up prior to battle, provided she doesn’t over-exert them. It’s making harsh demands on Queen Meronee’s reserves.”
“But why not use the river to move supplies if not men. We have just sailed without hindrance all the way from Memphis.”
The courtier nodded sagely and motioned significantly to the Mermaid.
“That is the mystery. We have heard talk of this remarkable craft and it’s inexplicably fast passage southwards up the river. That is why Queen Meronee arranged to meet with you here; she wanted to see the ship and meet you. She wanted to find out about your ship but there were urgent affairs to deal with. Our army makes slow progress and the Makurians are considering agreeing to the Alwan demands. She is making haste to allay the Makurian submission.”
“Are the Alwans likely to invade Makuria?” Drustina asked.
“No. That would precipitate war all along the river. The balance of power on the upper river would be too unstable.”
“So it’s just money and taxes.”
“Was there ever anything else?”
Drustina could have given the courtier a thousand ‘anything else’s’ but she kept her counsel. She decided to push on for Meroe and invited the courtier to accompany her while his assistant took both horses back across the desert. The pilot had already explained that the great river took a huge bend in Nobatia and it was shorter to cross the desert at this point provided one had the means. Drustina concluded that it would be better for one man with two horses to make the journey alone. The path was well marked.
“Your assistant will be better equipped with a second horse to carry food and water. He can have some of our supplies while you dine with us and sail up the river.”
“You are very generous but I see you wish to keep your own mount with you. Astos is very lucky to have found a consort in you.”
“I am only his consort until our child is born. Then I have agreed to hand my baby to his sister Amitor to be raised by her as the future governor king ... or queen, of Egypt.”
The courtier stared at her.
“That is a cruel decision for a woman to make ... to give up her child.”
Drustina’s expression darkened as she wondered what sort of woman and mother she was that she could do this.
Since Carthage, Drustina had done a lot of agonising soul searching and she was reconciled to the fact that there was also her male side to her nature. This was the side that occupied itself with recovering lands and killing enemies.
‘Would she ever be a normal person?’ She asked herself. ‘Losing her first babies had been a brutal destructive wrench and it had left her hard hearted and merciless. Woe betide those who in future, interfered with her motherhood against her express wishes.’
She felt a shudder sweep through her body as though she had an ‘out of body’ experience as she recalled the total insensitivity she showed when she exterminated the bishop. She could see it now, as clear as the day she did it ... a simple asphyxiation and the job had been done.
Looking back, she realised that she had that night, experienced a strange spiritual, bisexual metamorphosis inside her head The female mother Drustina had persuaded the male warrior Drustan to kill the monstrous Bishop for her. Drustina reflected that she had a mental duality that paralleled her physical duality and it was that mental duality that enabled her to kill without compunction or remorse. When dirty, dangerous, deadly work needed doing, Drustan was always available, inside her head, part of her very spirit even, yet always there for Drustina to call upon. As she mused on these feelings, Seripatese came to nuzzle her and Drustina hugged her neck thoughtfully.
Her silent reverie was interrupted by the courtier again as he gently tapped her wrist to catch her attention.
“Will you remain Astos’s queen once you have given him a child?”
Drustina shook her head as she returned to the present.
“I don’t think so. I have a burning ambition to see my homeland but it is a long, long way away. Besides, everybody knows, his interests lie with boys.”
The courtier nodded, Astos’s preferences were well known. Then he remembered the rumours. Astos had taken this maid as a wife because she had some strange sexual duality. He decided to make sure the rumours were true and boldly asked Drustina.
“Is it true, you are both; that is ... a man and a woman?”
Drustina shrugged. Her condition should be known now the length and breadth of the Nile by now. Drustina wondered what other information about her history was missing.
“Yes, I have both parts but I choose to live mainly as a woman.”
“Well that will be no hardship in Nobatia. Queen Meronee’s sex ensures that women are deemed equal.”
“I’m told she is a brave and courageous warrior.” Drustina pressed.
The courtier smiled.
“It’s true, she has been in battles, but they were minor affairs where her armies had overwhelming force. This battle is different. She has to move her troops through Makuria even before she can meet the Alwan forces. That limits her options and the size of her army. The risk of defeat is very real. Do you understand the transport problems?”
Drustina nodded sagely.
“The logistics you mean, supplying the army.”
“Precisely my lady. So you do seem to understand these things.”
Drustina smiled patronisingly as Arina stifled a titter. The courtier caught the interplay and frowned curiously.
“What have I said?”
Drustina could not resist shocking him.
“Do you know who I am, besides being the carrier of Astos’s baby?”
“Not precisely my lady. I know you are a Celt and technically the consort queen of Egypt and that you come from the far north, through the Pillars of Hercules.”
Drustina nodded affirmation then continued.
“Do you know of the defeat of the Barbary Corsairs and the strange ship that led the battle?”
“Well yes my lady, I ... Oh my God! This is that ship!”
Before he had time to recover from this revelation, Drustina plunged deeper.
“And the war of Carthage where Celtic and Saxon warriors helped Magab win back his throne.” Drustina continued.
The courtier’s jaw sagged.
“You! The Celt! The lioness of Carthage!”
Drustina nodded modestly.
“The same sir. Now I think we should making haste for Meroe. There is chance yet I might be of some assistance to your queen.”
The courtier nodded vigorously and they broke camp quickly. Within the hour the Mermaid was making remarkable progress up the river. The pilot had elected to stay with them, partly to offer advice and assistance in addition to expanding his own knowledge of the upper reaches of the river.
He was also very interested in learning about the strange Celtic ship that had come so far and performed so remarkably. Drustina smiled as she and Arina watched the man trying to appear casual and disinterested. He was obviously afraid of being accused of being some sort of industrial spy. Finally Drustina could stand it no longer and she smiled at Arina.
“You’d better tell him he’s free to study my ship in its minutest detail. After all his colleagues in Alexandria are building ships like this.”
Arina chuckled as she left Drustina talking to the courtier in the stern whilst she invited the pilot to go around the Mermaid with the apprentice lads for company. As they watched the foursome in deep discussions, the elderly courtier turned to Drustina.
“I don’t know much about ships and boats, but your vessel seems to generate a lot of interest.”
“She’s very fast and manoeuvrable, yet she performs very well in a heavy sea and she’s very stable. Arina took those two apprentice lads out onto the middle sea while we were in Alexandria. By their standards it was quite a storm and none of the other ships would put to sea but to us Celts, the seas were of little consequence. In our home seas, the storm waves are sometimes forty cubits high. Arina comes from fisher folk and she’s heard old men talk of sixty cubit waves but the tribe usually laughed and said if they met a sixty cubit wave why are they still here to tell of it.”
“Sixty cubits! But that’s as high as those cliffs over there! Do you believe that?” The courtier gasped.
“Who knows what to believe? I certainly know that the waves are huge. Far larger than anything Posidon and his middle sea can make. If a man spoke of sixty cubit waves, I would be loath to call him a liar. I have seen great whales over seventy cubits long, much longer than my ship. That much, I can truly attest to. When we rescued Arina, her family had two whale bones making the arch to their house and they were over ten cubits long. I tell you, those creatures are huge! Now, enough of whales and mariners stories, I am here to learn of Queen Meronee and her governance skills.”
A chapter in which Drustina our 'heroine' finds herself embroiled once more in preparations for war.
The Angry Mermaid 34
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 34.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
The Angry mermaid 34
After breaking camp on the river bank, the courtier nodded and replied about the reason for visiting Queen Meronee and Nobatia. Fair exchange was no robbery, the Nobatian lock pilot was learning of ships and upper river navigation so it seemed only fair that he should educate this remarkable woman about his country Nobatia and its famous queen.
The passage to Meroe soon passed. With the pilot acting as an additional and willing crew the Mermaid filled her potential for a quick passage. At the cataracts, the pilot and the queen’s retainer showed the queen’s personal pass and the towing crews that operated with long ropes on both banks were quickly about their duty. Drustina and her companions arrived but a scant six hours behind Queen Meronee and her outriders ... and that after having loitered several hours cooking food and stopping at night for want of visibility. When the courtier arrived bowing profusely at Meronee’s court, the queen’s eyes widened with surprise.
“My God! You are here already!”
“Yes your majesty, truly this ship of which Astos wrote is everything he said it was. You will have crossed the desert at walking pace to conserve your horses in the heat but this ship moves as fast as a trotting horse. Might I respectfully introduce Queen Drustina, consort queen of Egypt and Lioness of Carthage?”
Drustina made to courtesy but Queen Meronee stood up from her throne, extended her arms and welcomed her forward.
“Good god girl. We are queens and your reputation precedes you. So you are truly the one who helped my cousin recover his throne.”
Drustina had the grace to blush and smile as she nodded demurely. Meronee studied her demeanour and wagged her head as she placed her arms on Drustina’s arms.
“You are more maid than man though, I think.”
“These days ma-am; yes.”
“I must tell you, I probably know more of your exploits in Carthage than Astos or his emperor in Constantinople. The desert routes across the great sand sea are still open and were always unaffected by pirates. Once my cousin had recovered his throne, he immediately advised me of the return to normality. There are bandits of course, but the camel trains are well protected now that order has been restored in my cousin’s realm. The trade between Carthage, Libeye and Nobatia is growing daily.”
“Drustina took the seat offered and spoke softly.
“Then you will know all about me.”
“I not only know all about you, I have a letter in my safekeeping from your sister Aiofe. When Astos advised me of your arrival in Alexandria and your intentions to visit me, I wrote to her and Magab. She replied by return and I have held this letter for you. You will see it is unopened.”
Drustina almost snatched the letter in her eagerness to read her sister’s words and as she read the letter, tears started to fall. The sight of Aiofe’s hand brought back an overwhelming yearning for the old times, the good times but they seemed gone forever. Drustina’s people called that longing for her land, Hiraeth. It was also a deep longing for her people, her family, and above all, her children. Hiraeth ... it was a Celtic word that conveyed much, much more than just a simple ‘home-sickness’. Drustina’s eyes continued shedding copious tears and Meronee squeezed her in a tight embrace.
“Take courage girl. She wrote to me to say your children are safe and being well cared for.”
Drustina whispered haltingly between scarcely hidden sobs.
“Yes ... she writes at length of my children in this letter also. I wonder why Astos did not ... why he didn’t write to tell her of my safe arrival?”
“He probably didn’t think my dear. Alexandrians tend to think of sea communications and orientate towards Constantinople. We in Meroe are more connected to this giant land of Africa and we have more reliable trading routes across the desert. Our communications with other African kingdoms are much better than Astos’s.”
“But Carthage is easily reached by sea from Alexandria.”
“Again my dear, Astos’s concerns tend to focus north to Constantinople. Carthage is under Rome’s influence. Astos relies on us for information coming north out of Africa, we rely on him for information coming south out of Constantinople. I must add at this point, you have caused quite a stir you know. Your name has spread all up the Nile and across the great desert. The title ‘Lioness of Carthage’ has a pretty good ring to it. Astos is a lucky man if he has fathered your child, and it looks as though he has.”
Drustina nodded happily as she self-consciously pressed the tiny swelling in her womb then led Meronee’s hand to her body.
“He has; here, feel my belly.”
Meronee felt the faintest of kicks then let out a little gasp and pulled back with delight sparkling in her eyes.
“Oh you lucky, lucky woman! I am so envious!”
Drustina gave a slightly bemused smile.
“But you are an absolute queen; can you not take whomsoever you please for a husband?”
Meronee frowned.
“There are none bold enough. I’m afraid I have a reputation for treating my men badly.”
A shadow flickered across Drustina’s face as it drove the smile away. Meronee caught it and grinned.
“No. Not like that. I’m not like the preying mantis that eats her lover after using his body.”
Drustina chuckled.
“I’m glad to hear it. I must confess, I was warned that you had a wild temper.”
Meronee sided her mouth impatiently.
“That’s men talking. They can be so stupid and insensitive. The only one with any sense is Nebu, the man who accompanied you up the river. I know I can trust him. I get impatient with some of the others.”
“Yes, he struck me as a kindly and intelligent man but he’s too old I’m thinking,” Drustina concluded as she recognised that Meronee was still a youngish woman, well one at least of child-bearing age.
“He’s too old and happily married. He and his wife are also good friends and mentors of mine.”
“Do you have to be married to the father for your child to be a legitimate heir?”
“Not if I choose otherwise, I can make the law as I see fit for I am truly an absolute ruler ...”
“But ...” Drustina finished. ‘There was often a ‘but’,’ she reflected.
Meronee nodded; acknowledging Drustina’s perspicacity.
“If the child is legitimate then there’s far less scope for strife and argument about legality if there is a proven father. One declared officially to be the father.”
“And what d’you mean by the term ‘officially’? I mean if you make the laws then where’s the problem?”
“It’s these damned bishops, they are gradually getting my subjects to change to their ‘three god’ faith thing and it gets harder for women to exercise their rights every year; even a royal woman ... even a queen.”
Drustina felt a familiar twist of hot anger briefly course though her heart and belly. The two parts that most made her a woman. The heart, where she felt emotion and the belly, where she grew children. Her unborn baby reciprocated with a knowing flip and kick even as Drustina calmed down again and found brief words to express her disquiet.
“By the Gods! Are your Coptic bishops at it as well? Demeaning women and demoting them to lesser status? I killed the last bastard who tried to demean me because of my womanhood.”
“Who was that?” Meronee wondered uncomprehendingly.
“That Bastard Alviar. The one that Rome despatched to Carthage. He had me declared to be a monster, a blasphemy because of my duality.”
“I thought he died of complications from a blocked throat.” Meronee offered.
Drustina let out a brief cruel smile but the ever aware Meronee caught the hard glint of angry despair flicker briefly behind Drustina’s cold grey eyes. Meronee wondered how such large innocent eyes could somehow show blue when the girl smiled happily and yet then glitter with a cold grey malice when the girl was angry. Drustina spoke softly of her murderous actions that day.
“Oh they were complications alright, and it was certainly a blockage of his throat, but doctors don’t always get it exactly right. I choked him. He deprived me of my children; he deprived me of the life that sprung from me so I deprived him of his life.”
Meronee studied the young girl before her and found a steel that was hard to define or evaluate.
‘This young girl will need watching,’ she concluded, ‘if only to protect my own slumbering body’. Here indeed was a killer and Meronee knew all about killing for she had been forced to kill the very uncle who had killed her father. Meronee had murdered her uncle to legitimise the succession again. The Nubian Queen had walked a walk if not as brutal and violent as Drustina’s, it had certainly been every bit as devious and intriguing. Of danger and death, they were both on more than nodding terms.
Meronee found herself beginning to respect the strange girl before her. As they continued talking, that respect soon grew into a close bond of friendship, so much so that by the second day, Meronee found it in herself to discuss the issues of the Alwa trying to raise taxes for traders using the river. Drustina confessed that she had not much experience in statesmanship as she explained.
“Of treaties and agreements I know very little, I must confess as a boy, despite my successful participation in wars on several occasions; once the fighting was resolved, I left it mostly to my older sister Aiofe to address any issues affecting our progress or circumstances.”
As Meronee read the new reports she frowned, her army was making poor progress through the middle kingdom of Makuria and the Makurians were getting nervous. They were ready to accede to the Alwan demands but still they prevaricated while Meronee’s army came closer every day to the Makurian capitol of Meroe.
Soon Meronee would have to be departing her palace to meet with her army just north of the junction between the great rivers of the Blue Nile and the White Nile. They had successfully crossed the river at the fourth cataract at Gebel Barkal and were making slow but steady progress towards the sixth cataract.
Drustina watched the queen making preparations and she stood looking over her shoulder as a long list was ticked off and items or situations reported by assorted courtiers and military men. By early evening, as the light was quickly fading, she yawned, brushed the reports aside and sighed to Drustina.
“Well there you have it girl. A day’s work for a queen, see; reading nothing but papers as we prepare for war. I sometimes think an army consumes more paper than arrows, spears and swords.”
Drustina nodded, she had not had much to do with the preparations to attack Carthage for she had been preoccupied with the guerrilla war and gathering information. It was not until the actual fighting proper started that she had had much to do with organising troops, platoons and armies. Drustina could offer much help on the actual fighting and tactics but offer little by way of logistics. As they finally ate dinner at the council table she explained this to Meronee and her generals. Meronee smiled patronisingly and showed Drustina a compressed list, in Latin of the salient issues to do with logistics. Drustina took the list and nodded comprehendingly. It all made sense but to see it laid out and itemised, made for much easier memorising. She thanked Meronee and gave her a peck on the cheek as she excused herself from the queen’s presence and went to her chambers. There she met Arina and they studied the list.
“I didn’t think it could be so long,” Arina remarked.
“Count it as one of our first lessons.” Drustina replied as she started committing the list to memory. She compiled some simple words as mnemonic acronyms and spent the rest of the evening memorising the items. She fell asleep with the list falling from her hand. It had been a long and tiring day.
o 0 o
“Come on lazy bones! If you want to learn the lessons of Queenship you’ll have to learn that a monarch rarely sleeps more than her subjects. Come on! Get up; there are affairs of state to see to!”
Drustina stirred with alarm for an instant and her dagger flashed free of the blanket before she realised the person who had rudely awakened her was none other than Queen Meronee herself. She slid the dagger discreetly back down her side and Queen Meronee stared at it questioningly. The dagger was still plainly visible for Meronee had just tugged the bed cover from Drustina’s body.
“D’you sleep with that at your side all the time?” Meronee asked.
Drustina nodded and turned red with embarrassment. Meronee sat on the bed beside her and looked thoughtful before responding to her discovery.
“I’m not surprised. Your sister Aiofe wrote of the troubles and dangers you’ve shared. Does your companion also sleep thus, armed for combat?”
Drustina nodded again, still too embarrassed to speak. It seemed as if her being discovered always ready to defend herself, had cast aspersions on Meronee’s hospitality. The queen stared into the girl’s face and recognised a weary maturity that belied Drustina’s nineteen years. This caused a wave of sadness to replace the playful mood she had enjoyed as she had originally slipped quietly into Drustina’s chamber ready to tease the sleeping girl. Meronee stroked Drustina’s cheek and nodded slowly.
“I understand girl, it was thus for me when my uncle tried to steal my birthright. He was influenced by the bishops and thought it was his right to usurp my throne. He never lived to learn that it was not his right but the bishops realised they had upset a tigress when they tried to demean my rights in favour of his. I still keep the bishops at arm’s length and that with a sword in my arm to boot. Never trust the religious men Drustina. They hold their gods more valuable even than life.”
“That, I already know,” Drustina almost whispered. “They were plotting to kill me and my unborn children. Life springs from our bellies, women’s bellies! The most precious gift that can be bestowed upon a tribe or a clan is a new baby but still, the religious men demean it yet. Now they spout some claptrap about original sin and how a newborn child must be brought into their church, their dominion and their clutches before it can be called one of them. What is this ‘original sin’?” Drustina continued.
“Having been told that it was born in sin, from then on the child is doomed to learn all sorts of evil. These priests have men set above women, priests set above men and their god set above priests. I am a Christian in name only, simply to legitimise this child inside me. Just how demeaning and disrespectful to my motherhood is that? Denying my children their fundamental birthright to belong to their rightful clan unless they undergo some sort of superstitious ritual involving water and bread. The child is born in blood and pain!”
Meronee listened sympathetically then nodded as she held Drustina’s scarred arm and fingered the angry slash inside her forearm.
“But the priests; they fear this, your sword arm. Few of them are fit to wield a weapon.”
“No. You’re right, but they hide their power behind superstition and evil then get others to do their dirty work. To get my revenge I had to do my own dirty work and very dirty work it was.”
“But a job well done and very necessary.”
“I’m not proud. I choked an invalid in his bed. Better if he had faced me with his sword.”
Meronee studied the girl’s face where the intensity was evident then she put her proposal.
“Would you accompany me with my army?”
“I am nearly five moons gone with my child. I’ll not be much use at your side, slow and big bellied as I am soon to become.”
“No, but your reputation will put fire in my army’s belly. The stories of the Lioness of Carthage have travelled the length and breadth of the great desert plus the length of our mother river.”
“And all of it grown exaggerated with the telling I’ll wager. I’m not some sort of miracle worker.”
“No but you’ve met and faced superior numbers in battle on several occasions and won through each time. This I know to be true from several different trusted sources. Despite your youth, your knowledge is priceless and I am fearful of the coming battle. My army is facing double the foe. Your experience of battle and tactics will be of enormous use.”
Drustina sighed. ‘It behoved her to help this woman in battle just as she needed help in statesmanship’. She slumped slightly as the thought of yet another battle grew bleakly in her mind. Reluctantly she started to dig for information.
“Have you made any plans of battle yet or is it all just logistics and table talk.”
“We must face them before the next flood returns for then the river is impossible to cross except by boat.”
“So we have two issues in the first instance. Mobility and choice of battlefield. Have you sent scouts to look for a suitable battle site?”
Meronee regarded Drustina with some admiration.
“You see, already you have exposed our first weakness.”
“Which is?”
“We have no information of the land except for the river valley.”
“Then might I suggest you get a move on. The first to arrive at a suitable place can usually pick the most advantageous site provided he has good local knowledge. That need also exposes your second weakness ... lack of mobility. You need more Cavalry.”
“We should have that knowledge; the land from here to Khartoum belongs to the Makurians.”
“But cavalry are ruinously expensive. The horses need mountains of hay and corn. All that has to be carried through the desert.”
“Not necessarily. They can follow the river and the food can be carried in ships’
“That will be slow.”
“Well might I suggest we make haste and start the cavalry off immediately to make our own surveys? They can also check out the land and provide rapid intelligence. I will be taking my beloved Mare Seripatese in my boat.”
“But what can these cavalry achieve? Their numbers are small.”
“They achieve surprise and they are a fast striking force. Especially if they are archers. They are lightly clothed and very mobile.”
“Archers!?”
“Yes. You have Ta Seti; surely some of these can ride?”
“Well, yes... I suppose there are some riders amongst them.”
“Then pick them. They can practice mounted archery as they ride south. They are on horseback so they will be faster than the main body. Just one squadron of mounted archers, that’s all I ask.”
“Very well then Drustina. I bow to your knowledge. Can you organise it?”
“Yes.” Drustina replied with a finality that belied her feelings. “These men will help us spy out the land for if these Makurians are as timid as they seem to be, I doubt they’ll even find the courage to help us plan the battle.”
Meronee nodded then added.
“They are supposed to be our allies in this. Raising the river taxes on the upper reaches affects them far more than us. We at least can trade freely with Egypt and Makuria.”
“So why go to war?”
“If we let the Alwans get away with this then there’s no stopping them. The rules concerning the river have always been a matter for treaty and discussion for its entire navigable length. There are tribes and nations far to the south who depend on trade for their very survival. This great river has been our mother umbilical cord since we first came here from the south. The Nile connects us to our mother roots, indeed she is our mother and she provides water and food and information via trade.”
Drustina nodded. She had seen the bleak barren scorching deserts on both banks and marvelled that the river never seemed to dry up.
She wondered silently as she tied her sword belt, ‘Just where did all the water come from?’
After breakfast, Drustina and Arina went outside and in the palace courtyard they already found preparations well advanced. Queen Meronee was preparing to join her troops. They would depart from Meroe after the noon heat had cooled. Drustina and Arina spent the morning ensuring that their mounts and weapons were in good order as they ran a desperate check to gather as many Ta Seti as could ride together to form Drustina’s fast squadron. After a morning’s hectic trials she had gathered two hundred riders and she immediately despatched them south along the river as fast as the accompanying river craft could keep up. Fortunately the moon was full and the food supplies could navigate by night while the horses and men rested. The next afternoon Drustina and Arina joined their beloved Mermaid and set off southwards up the Nile. In addition to their own horses they also had some extra crew and a local pilot who knew this stretch of the river. The following morning they caught up with the mounted squadron and Drustina was pleased to see the chosen men practicing their newfound skills even as their column kept up its southerly march. She passed them in the faster Mermaid and continued south as fast as ‘The Mermaid could go.
At the sixth cataract the learned that Meronee’s army had not yet reached the rendezvous but they could not wait. Drustina’s part was to travel to the confluence of the Blue Nile and the White Nile then step ashore and reconnoitre the land in anticipation of the battle. They arrived just after darkness had fallen and, with the aid of their loyal Nobatian crew, they secreted the Mermaid under a stack of palm leaves and corn stalks. The next morning they set off on horse to reconnoitre.
After two uncomfortable days Drustina concluded the best tactic was to somehow use the river as an asset in their tactics. The best opportunity was to somehow draw the Alwan forces into the wedge of land where the Blue and White Niles conjoined just north of Khartoum. Drustina felt they had found a perfect ridge, not very high but steep sided to the north and long enough to prevent free movement of men and horses within the peninsular. It was a scenario similar to the Isthmus of Carthage. As she tried to envisage a viable tactic with the limited number of men at Queen Meronee’s disposal, Drustina’s heart ached for her older sister Aiofe to be there; to spot that little feature or circumstance that could give them the crucial advantage. She spent another two days just searching for any geographical feature that would lend them that benefit but found little else other than the ridge and the rivers themselves.
It became more and more apparent that the trick would be to lure the Alwan forces into the ever tightening wedge of land and close the gate when they had passed the ridge. When the Alwan forces realised they were hoodwinked into the triangle formed by rivers and ridge, Meronee’s forces would be able to concentrate mainly where the two rivers cut through opposite ends of the ridge and fight the Alwans on the river banks. Then the few Nobatian ships that they had managed to drag up the cataracts would be able to fire arrows into the flanks of the Alwan forces as they fought facing Meronee’s modest forces. It was a principle based on the palisade battle at Carthage but Drustina could think of nothing better. She desperately wished that her sister had been there to think up some more original and advantageous plan.
After having run her ideas past Arina they journeyed south to Khartoum to meet the Makurian king and his advisors. Drustina was invited to attend a council meeting but what they saw and heard didn’t encourage her. All the courtiers and all but three of the generals were for acceding to Alwan demands to raise the river taxes. Drustina realised that the best hopes for support lay with the three dissenting Makurian generals.
She slipped away from the meeting after failing to persuade the Makurian king to muster his army and meet Queen Meronee at a suitable rendezvous where their combined forces could have best effect. After this disappointment she decided to try and discover what could be levered from the three dissenting generals; the only men around the Makurian council table that seemed to have any backbone. To do this they would have to use subterfuge because Drustina had little idea of the political situation in Makuria. That evening the pair decided that Drustina would make noises in their apartment under the pretence of them both occupying the chamber while Arina would slip away to find any of the three dissenting generals.
She eventually found the youngest general, a short thickset man with a bright intelligence flickering from under heavy brows.
General Tuk was a man of somewhat simian build whose appearance belied the sharp brain that clicked away between his ears.
Their re-acquaintance was an inevitable occurrence for he had agreed with his two other colleagues to find out more about Meronee’s army and her preparations to tackle the Alwan oppression. General Tuk was doing exactly the same as Arina, looking for their potential allies. He met Arina by chance in the palace park as she wandered seemingly casually through a cool glade beside the river. It was a fortuitous occasion for both realised they had been seeking ways to make a more private contact. General Tuk was surprised by Arina’s sudden and ethereal appearance in the moonlight.
“My God girl, you startled me!” He growled as he re-sheathed his sword.
Arina also let her half-drawn sword return easily to its scabbard and she smiled invitingly. It was a remarkably fetching smile and very attractive to the powerful Nubian for he had never seen a girl with rich titian red hair and emerald eyes before. Had he not known better he would have mistaken her for some strange ethereal river spirit. He had not see Arina before for Arina had not attended the conference earlier that day. All he had was his army intelligence reports describing the two strange but famous Celtic visitors.
“You’ll be Arina, the Queen Drustina’s servant, I’m thinking. My name is General Tuk.”
“You have my name right good sir but I’m not Drustina’s servant; I’m her companion in all things including battle. She wishes to meet you privately.”
“Then make it tomorrow morning here while the river mists still linger.”
Arina nodded and spotted a figure approaching along the river bank. She caught Tuk’s eye then nodded and wrapped her slender arms around his thickset neck as she whispered.
“Pretend we are making a tryst and you are savouring the erotic Celt with the exotic colouring.”
“Clever girl,” he murmured, “and a quick thinker,” he added as one of the Palace guard captain’s approached.
The captain snapped to attention and threw a smart salute as he recognised his commander.
“Good evening general sir!”
Then the captain’s eyes fell upon the exotic girl in the general’s arms as she threw her most fetching smile at him. He smiled back when she softly returned his salute with an inviting smile and melodious voice.
“Good evening Captain." She greeted him. "Enjoying the evening air.”
“Why y- yes ma-am.” He stammered.
“And isn’t it a beautiful moonlit evening?”
“Why certainly ma-am.”
The general turned and smirked at his captain.
“Haven’t you a patrol to complete Captain?”
“Yes sir!” The captain replied as he turned and marched proudly away. However, he was curious and suspicious of the General’s attachment to the Celt.
General Tuk had something of a reputation with the ladies and he had certainly chosen the pick of the bunch that evening. The whole of the captain’s company had been agog with the news of the two exotic Celts, for they were on palace guard duty that week.
When he returned to his command room he discussed his concerns with the Chief of Staff.
Once the captain had departed Arina released her sensuous embrace and General Tuk sighed as he courteously unwrapped his own powerful arms.
“The man who win’s your heart will be a very lucky fellow.”
“Why thank you general. That’s a lovely compliment. I would like to dally but needs must when the devil cracks his whip.
Tomorrow morning then, here at daybreak, the sixth hour.”
“It will be a pleasure my lady.”
They separated and the general’s eyes lingered wistfully on the delicate figure as she trotted lightly away.
‘If only our other generals were as brave as she and her companion.’ He thought.
A Chapter where drustina and Arina have to spy out the land and determine the political mood in Makuria.
The Angry Mermaid 35.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 35.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
The Angry mermaid 35.
Long before Dawn, Drustina and Arina arrived at the bank of the river and hid patiently amidst the reeds. Experience had long ago taught them caution and it always behoved them to make careful preparations. Their caution was rewarded for they saw the same captain who had met the ‘embraced couple’ last night as he arrived at the bank with himself and four soldiers.
“What do they want?” Wondered Arina.
“Don’t know. It could be some sort of trap or ambush for the general.” Drustina replied.
“But why?”
“I’m not sure, the atmosphere in the council chamber yesterday didn’t seem very cordial. Maybe this captain belongs to another faction. I just don’t know.”
The pair fell silent and waited thankful that they had brought warm cloaks to ward off the early morning chill. Soon dawn lit the sky; in these low latitudes both girls had wondered at the shortness of dawn and dusk as the sun seemed to rise and set so quickly. From their secret vantage point they watched the general striding boldly along the path until the captain and his four men sprang out to challenge him. The general was no mean fighter for he had won his rank in fair combat, not through royal favour. He drew his sword and challenged them as he backed against a palm tree while the five men faced him. The general recognised the Captain from the night before.
“Captain Fantu! What treachery is this?” He demanded.
“We might ask of you the same question General.” The captain replied.
“My business is not the domain of mere captains soldier. I’m here on matters of supreme urgency.”
“Urgent for whom.”
“The country of Makuria and peace along the whole river.”
“The king is dealing with that.”
“But at what cost? You know nothing of the demands the Alwans are making.”
“I know they are a powerful army and it behoves us not to anger them.” The Captain argued.
“And if they are not stopped, then they will overwhelm us. Then they will try to invade Nobatia and Queen Meronee will ally
herself with Astos of Egypt to stop them. Before you know it soldier, the whole river will be ablaze.”
“The king’s diplomacy will avoid that.”
“Only force will stop the Alwan king, I have met him and recognise him for a tyrant. His demands will not stop at river taxes. Already his Armies march north.”
“He has not yet invaded Makuria.”
“His troops are massed at our southern border. If he doesn’t receive an acknowledgement from Makuria in two days, he is invading. You are a mere captain lad, you did not attend the council meeting. Our army is ill equipped to stand against him.”
“He has to cross the river. We can hold him as he crosses.”
“Where lad? Where! The river is low and it can be forded at a thousand places south of Khartoum. He has hundreds of miles of river to choose to cross and we cannot patrol the whole length in strength. By the time we can respond, he will be across.”
The captain hesitated. The general’s words were painfully true and he was forced to consider them. Then he made his first mistake. He decided to try and arrest the general. He gave a curt command to his men and they advanced with swords drawn.
“I am arresting you General Tuk, on suspicion of treason. We will let the king resolve this issue.”
“If you arrest me Captain Fantu, then Makuria will be a vassal state of Alwa inside of a year. I cannot let that happen.”
“Then I am forced to take arms against you to arrest you.”
“It will cost you dear lad. I cannot afford to let myself be arrested now.”
General Tuk stood en-garde and anticipated the attack.
In the reeds Drustina whispered to Arina.
“If they attack him we strike, okay?”
Arina nodded and copied Drustina’s actions by silently easing her sword from her scabbard.”
“I’m not as good as you with this thing.” She whispered.
“We’ll have the advantage of surprise, just emerge silently and quickly, don’t shout or give them any warning.”
As she said this two of the soldiers sprang forward suddenly to attack General Tuk. He managed to parry their attack but it was obvious he would soon be overwhelmed. Drustina recognised that the general was a powerful man with a strong sword arm but he lacked finesse and speed. As the second pair started their attack Drustina and Arina stepped out un-noticed from the reeds. They had commenced their attack before Captain Fantu realised he was confronting another foe.
The captain let out a curse and stepped forward to attack what he perceived to be two girls but he quickly realised he was ‘out-gunned’ and called to two of his men.
“To me! He has accomplices.”
Two men broke off the attack on the general and whirled around to see their captain facing two adversaries. For a moment they stood stunned and then plunged in recklessly. Their mistake cost them penalties. Drustina upped her ‘game’ and started to fight in earnest instead of just toying with the captain. She whirled around like lightening and caught one of the troopers a vicious stab in his sword arm. He let out a curse and dropped his sword immediately as blood started to flow.
“Damn you bitch!” He cried as he realised his adversary had been a woman.
“Curse me again like that and I’ll run you through.” Drustina warned him softly without any sense of fear or anger in her voice.
The man realised he had chosen to fight with somebody who knew their weapons. He himself was considered one of the better swordsmen in his company and she had easily disabled him. He called a caution to the captain.
“Watch her captain, she’s a tigress!”
Drustina turned to confront the second trooper who had been wrong footed by the speed of Drustina’s sword. She slipped her Toledo blade neatly into his thigh and brought him to his knees instantly as she warned the captain.
“Tigress or lioness, it makes no odds. Put up your sword captain I do not wish to kill any of you.”
The captain glanced at Arina who was still poised en-garde and Drustina spoke to her. I’ll tend to this gentleman, go and pull the other two off the general. The relief was clearly evident in the captain’s eyes for he had not expected it to come to blows. He had expected a simple and peaceful arrest. He spoke clearly.
“I yield to you tigress, if you’ll spare my men.”
“Agreed captain. Put up your sword but keep it.”
This clearly demonstrated that Drustina had no intentions of killing anybody. By letting Captain Fantu keep his sword she was honouring his rank and not insulting their honour. Captain Fantu shouted a halt to his two remaining men.
They pulled back from the beleaguered general and he finally was able to look around and see who had rescued him. His relief was evident and he touched his forehead with his sword in salutary thanks.
“Drustina, Arina, never better met my ladies. My heartfelt thanks.”
“General Tuk. We meet again. What will you have me do with these assailants?”
“Let them live. Captain Fantu is a fine soldier if a slightly misled one. After we have explained, I think they’ll change their views.”
The captain frowned and Drustina followed his gaze. The soldier with the cut arm was bleeding badly and the wound needed attention. Drustina signalled to Arina who nodded agreement and knelt to attend to the cut while Drustina turned again to the captain.
“Why did you attack your own commanding officer?”
“The Palace guard were warned he was impetuous and dangerous.”
“He doesn’t strike me as impetuous, he could have ordered you all executed here and now.”
“He is deemed dangerous, an impediment to the peace process.”
“Who told you that?”
“It is common knowledge. It is the word right through the army.”
Drustina smiled dangerously.
“I didn’t ask you who knew, I asked who told you.”
“General Dinla. The chief of staff.”
“Oh him,” Drustina scoffed, “the whingeing coward at the council table yesterday.”
“What! You were at the meeting?”
“Yes. As was general Tuk.”
“I know the general was there but what where you doing there?”
“I am the emissary from Queen Meronee of Nobatia. I am Drustina, Queen Drustina of Egypt, and the Lioness of Carthage’.
A stunned silence befell the captain and his men. Their faces paled as they made a salute.
“Y- Your majesty!”
She studied Captain Fantu thoughtfully, not sure to decide if the man was genuinely misinformed or he reflected the general mood amongst the Makurian army. She decided to test him.
“Are you a coward captain?”
“Madam, please, that’s an insult!”
“I’m just testing you Captain. Would face me now in sword play?”
“But madam! You are a Qu-; you’re a queen and an emissary, a diplomat on a mission.”
“I am indeed Captain, and it’s my duty to find the truth for my leader Queen Meronee of Nobatia. Do you understand why I’m here?”
“You mean in the country as a whole ... or here, now, in the early morning on the banks of the mother river meeting one of our highest generals.”
“The latter one captain. Here and now ... on the river bank.”
“I should imagine it’s something sensitive. Some political intrigue.”
“It’s certainly sensitive Captain, but it’s not a plot or treason.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you are still inexperienced in the ways of kings and princes. Perhaps when you become a general, you might have learned. I am here to gather the opinions of all your generals, not just the feelings of a chief of staff who gained his appointment through royal connection and boastfulness. The Nobatians are not stupid Captain; Queen Meronee has not retained her crown through stupidity and ignorance. We knew full well that the Makurian high command and king were indisposed to facing the Alwans. What we needed to know is how many of your generals were prepared to face the King of Alwa and how many troops could they supply.”
The captain fell back to the original supposition.
“It’s pointless trying to fight them; the Alwans outnumber us three to one.”
Drustina smiled softly.
“Captain, d’you know by how many King Magab was outnumbered in Carthage?”
“I’ve heard it was ten to one.”
“Well like many, you have heard wrong. I was there; I am the Lioness of Carthage.”
“So what is the truth?” Captain Fantu asked.
“It was nearer to the odds your army faces, probably three and possibly four to one against. Those are not impossible odds.”
“His army is better prepared,”
“And it’s travelled a long way. Already his lines of supply are stretched.”
“But he is massed at our southern border. He is but six days south of Khartoum.”
“Six days when he has to march a gauntlet of ambushes and attacks at every twist and turn.”
“And who is to launch those attacks?” The Captain asked.
“Tell him General Tuk.”
The captain turned to his general who spoke softly.
“Captain, you know that Queen Meronee is marching South to assist us.”
“I do sir and I also know it is only a modest force that has yet to cross the mother river.”
“That is the easiest part captain. The hardest part was moving two hundred mounted Ta Seti troops. That meant moving two hundred horses and men all the way along the Nile river bank.”
“Mounted! What good is it mounting bowmen? They cannot shoot accurately.”
Drustina exchanged a knowing smile with Arina and turned to the captain.
“Captain Fantu, if I might demonstrate to you later today, will you believe me then?”
“What is your intention?”
“Would you ride with me after breakfast? Here in the park by the river bank. You may bring some of your lieutenants and sergeants if you wish.”
“What is your intention?”
“To show you accuracy with a mounted bow.”
This I must see,” The captain smirked.
“So must I,” General Tuk added. “I must confess to having heard of mounted archers but they were always too lightly equipped and the firing inaccurate.”
“Later gentlemen. After breakfast please. I must caution you though. I am five and a half moons gone with child and my belly swells. I will not ride as easily as I should but enough to demonstrate.”
The captain smiled and wagged his head.
“Your belly did not slow your sword madam. I will truly vouch for that.”
Drustina smiled and asked Arina to fetch their horses. She had a little trouble mounting and the captain was all attention as her belly hampered her movements.
“Ooof. Thank you Captain. Normally Captain, I would have leapt onto my beloved mare but as you can truly see, my belly makes me clumsy. After breakfast then. Here. Arina and I will bring our war bows.”
Later that morning, the Celtic girls were pleased to find that the soldiers had kept their promise. General Tuk, the two other dissenting generals, Captain Fantu and the junior officers of the guard were waiting under the trees as she and Arina arrived with their war bows unstrung across their saddles. They watched with fascination as the pair restrung their bows and each dipped to take an arrow from the pommel sheaths carried either side of their saddle. The saddle sheaths also provided extra cover for their legs whilst also providing two hooks to grip with their knees. The girls were now firmly attached to their saddles even as they started their run. Despite her swollen belly, Drustina was able to give a fair account of her skills. Even general Tuk
gave an oath as Drustina flew past at the gallop and hit two of the five targets set up to resemble men. She turned and returned to explain.
“My belly makes me clumsy; now see what my companion can do.”
She gave a signal to Arina who was determined to outshine her comrade in arms. Besides being unencumbered by pregnancy, Arina also rode a faster, more powerful stallion that Queen Meronee had given to her as a gift. As she streaked past the gathered soldiers with hooves thundering out a tattoo, she let out a victorious scream and pierced four out of the five figurines. The fifth arrow glanced off the last target but it was incredible shooting by any standard and the soldiers fell to muttering approval amongst themselves.
As ever, Arina had to give her powerful horse his head and the animal took a wide turn around the park before excising his energy. He finally rejoined the party snorting and prancing eagerly as though wishing to demonstrate his part in the display. As he reared and snorted and made high cacalorum, Drustina watched then turned to general Tuk and the Palace guard officers.
“Imagine another two hundred like that gentlemen. Appearing out of nowhere and disappearing as swiftly as they came. No army would march in safety and they will be seriously hampered.”
The whole assembly and Particularly Captain Fantu of the guard stood with wide eyed approval as Arina eventually calmed her furious stallion. She finally managed to approach them and find her voice, such had been the excitement.
“Well gentlemen. Does that convince you?”
General Tuk clapped approvingly and spoke.
“Bravo young lady. That was a stunning display. I’m not sure which was best, the horsemanship or the bowmanship.”
Drustina simply gaped stupidly at her companion before asking.
“Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”
“The Nobatian archers, the Ta Seti taught me.” Arina grinned. “I’ve not been idle while you talked with kings. The Ta Seti are fantastic bowmen.”
The captain nodded and agreed.
“They are you know, they defeated the Roman legions. It was Nubia’s proudest moment. With cavalry like that we stand a chance. Pity there are only two hundred.”
Drustina turned and remarked.
“It’s not just cavalry Captain. There are tactics and strategy to resolve. We must speak with Queen Meronee post haste.”
Thus convinced, General Tuk agreed to accompany Drustina to Meronee’s camp while Arina agreed to show the palace guard the rudiments of mounted archery. Drustina and General Tuk departed with the agreement of the other two dissenting generals and with the accompanying Captain Fantu now an eager convert.
They left Arina to explain and demonstrate to the guardsmen how the rider had to feel the horse’s gait and release the arrow at the exactly neutral points when all four hooves where off the ground. The conundrum was that the faster the horse galloped and the longer all four hooves were air-born, the easier it was to shoot and the more accurate the shot.
o-0-o
A chapter that describes the battle to defeat the Alwan Tyrant of the Upper Nile thus saving Khartoum and Nobatia from invasion.
The Angry Mermaid 36
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 36
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
The Angry Mermaid 36.
The trio of General Tuk, Captain Fantu and the pregnant Queen Drustina arrived at Meronee’s encampment in the early morning after riding all night. It had been a slow journey because Drustina was beginning to feel the effects of her pregnancy.
Meronee’s army was camped at the sixth cataract awaiting whatever news came to them. The mounted Ta Seti bowmen had proved themselves doubly valuable as gatherers of intelligence as well as high speed ‘artillery’ and Meronee was only waiting for Drustina’s return. The news was mainly good. The three dissenting generals could muster about three divisions but more importantly, the Makurian troops could rely upon the good will of the local Makurian population to help with food supplies for Meronee’s forces. For like the Alwans, Meronee also suffered from the distance away from their supply base. Whosoever could win the support of the local population could at least expect more reliable supplies and win the logistics war.
Once again Drustina’s experience as a guerrilla fighter enabled her to advise Queen Meronee as to the best way to win over and keep the people’s support. Captain Fantu and his newly formed Makurian cavalry were at least known to the Makurian peasantry and they knew him to be on their side. Already stories of theft and ‘appropriation’ were beginning to emerge from villages where the huge Alwan Army had passed on their slow and troubled march north.
With the first phase complete, Drustina was free to take a back seat and recover from her exertions as her pregnant condition began to slow her down. It was to be another two weeks before the Allies were to tempt the Alwans into the trap between the two tributaries of the mother river where the battle lasted a day and a night.
The massive Alwan army had endured two weeks of constant privation, from repeated ambushes and food shortages as they marched north through Makuria. As Drustina had predicted and Captain Fantu was thrilled to learn, lightening fast and accurate attacks by mounted bowmen were proven to be an effective tactic, for not only did it cause attrition and material loss to the Alwan column; it also destroyed moral.
By the time the Alwans had circumvented a fortified Khartoum and left a siege force to try and starve the city into submission, the remaining forces had been sucked into the trap of the narrow peninsular pocket where the two great Niles met. With their forces now divided and separated the Alwans were already a partially beaten force. Meronee was delighted with Drustina’s guerrilla campaign for it had achieved not one but three objectives.
It had won over the local population to Meronee’s side, it had reduced much of the Alwan forces and preparations to a ‘holding operation’ and it had caused their massive army to be divided. The siege to Khartoum was still a very serious issue for the city but that was the Makurian King’s problem. Meronee had little sympathy for the king just then because she had yet to confront the main Alwan force that still outnumbered her and her Makurian allies led by General Tuk.
Although encumbered by her swollen belly and therefore unable to assist in the guerrilla campaign directly, Drustina was at least still moderately mobile. Her trusty craft, the Angry Mermaid had, after much effort, been hauled above the sixth cataract and now served as a useful ferry to meet and supply Fantu in his Guerrilla campaign. The advantages of her presence had convinced the allies that it was worth the effort to gather as many craft as they could for the final campaign. Transporting troops by river and ship was proving an extremely effective activity.
Drustina’s mare Seripatese also served her loyally as she monitored the guerrilla’s progress and occasionally met up with Captain Fantu who commanded the campaign. The first phase of their campaign had been successful insofar as it weakened the Alwan cavalry who had charged into trap after trap in their attempts to pursue the Ta Seti mounted bowmen after every ambush. Each ambush had been carefully planned and laid thus Captain Fantu was riding a spectacular learning curve as Arina explained about traps and ambushes and double blinds. By the time the Alwans had reached Khartoum, their cavalry was virtually a spent force but the Alwan Tyrant King was too damned angry and intractable to admit it. He had managed to deliver a couple of siege engines to attack the walls of Khartoum and with these he remained convinced he would win through.
In the guerrilla camp other developments were emerging as well. Captain Fantu was growing exceedingly fond of the stunningly beautiful and exotically coloured Arina who was acting as an advisor, passing on the hard-earned lessons of Drustina’s Carthaginian war. Every time Drustina met with the guerrilla commanders she noticed the growing attraction between Fantu and Arina.
‘It was hardly surprising really,’ she surmised.
Fantu was an exceedingly handsome Nubian with dark blue-black skin and a well defined muscular body that any woman would find attractive. By contrast, Arina with her rich red-gold titian hair and emerald green eyes was a stunningly beautiful and well formed Celtic girl. Drustina was not surprised to learn they were sharing a bed and she was secretly a bit envious, though not jealous.
Eventually the Alwan King had set up his main camp to lay siege to Khartoum. This suited Drustina’s ideas for it gave her guerrilla troops a fixed target to harry and an opportunity for Tuk’s water-born troops to test their mettle against fixed Alwan forces. Amongst Tuk’s men were Meronee’s Nobatian forces who, after recovering from the hard slog south through the desert, were now refreshed enough to make a powerful contribution to the skirmishes that would eventually lead to the main pitched battle. Everybody knew — none better than Drustina- that there would have to be a final showdown but for as long as possible they would continue to harry and prod the huge Alwan force.
As more ships were dragged up the Sixth Cataract, Queen Meronee and Tuk finally concluded they had enough strength to set and spring the trap to destroy the Alwan forces. The plan was to land from the river a considerable force enough to sting the Alwan Tyrant into greater action. The Allies would launch a water-born attack of sufficient size to tempt the tyrant to chase them back down the east bank of the White Nile. Meronee and Tuk had deliberately armed their men lightly so that they could retreat quickly along the bank of the White Nile and make it look like a defeated panic. There were several notable places where the bank was muddy and sticky, here Drustina hoped to outmanoeuvre the pursuers. The second part of the plan was for Drustina to launch a second, heavier force behind the pursuing Alwans at a drier position better suited to armoured troops and positioned below the buttress where Fantu waited with his Makurian bowmen. Thus she hoped to cut the Alwan pursuers off from the main force still besieging Khartoum. Meanwhile, Captain Fantu and his mounted Ta Seti Archers would post themselves on the lip of the ridge and move parallel to any Alwan pursuers and preventing them from escaping to the east. The plan was to try and wipe out the pursuing force and thus reduce the Alwan army yet further.
Every little ploy and trick would serve to better the allied cause. This one was a dangerous trick but if it worked, then General Tuk and his Makurian companions would achieve their aims, namely permanent freedom from the Alwan threat.
On the eve of the plan, the allied forces laboured over the complexity of the plan and strived to simplify it at every juncture. Complex plans invariably went wrong at some instant and left much scope for disaster. Drustina had already demonstrated the dangers of complexity to Captain Fantu in his ambushes and it had been a lesson well learned. Remarkably, because of his constant action in harrying the marching Alwan column, Captain Fantu had accumulated more real battle experience than even the three dissenting generals. Makuria had been at peace for the last thirty years, indeed the whole Nile River had enjoyed a generation of peace until the Alwan tyrant had got greedy.
Tuk and his two companion generals had seen very little real fighting, though Tuk had seen some action as a mercenary before joining the Makurian army but it was brief and a long time ago. Furthermore, Fantu had accumulated the most geographical knowledge of the war zone because of his native childhood experiences and his recent guerrilla activities. He had learned to assimilate physical geography with military capabilities. Queen Meronee, General Tuk and Drustina had cause to be grateful for his realistic and balanced observations when it came to assessing the future battle plan.
One evening as they dined on the river bank, General Tuk expressed his opinions of the young Captain.
“Good lad that. If he survives those guerrilla raids, he’ll go far.”
“Would it not be better to include him in the main battle,” Queen Meronee asked, “he’s a well experienced soldier now and something of a talisman for his troops.”
Tuk glanced at Drustina and grinned as she smiled to recognise their mutual conclusion; Captain Fantu would be best suited to what he had perfected ... fast unpredictable strikes where least expected.
“I’d leave him where he is,” Tuk replied as Drustina nodded agreement.
Meronee smiled as she recognised the mutual respect and friendship that had developed between her best general and her royal companion. It was good that the leaders of an army could agree and understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Then there was a small commotion outside their tent as Fantu arrived with Arina at his side. Even Queen Meronee had recognised they were becoming ‘an item’.
The pair made their reports then settled to finish off what was left on the table. They hadn’t eaten all day. Later, Drustina had a chance to chat to her erstwhile companion.
“You like him don’t you?”
Arina nodded shyly.
“He’s big, and strong and kind and intelligent. What more could a girl want?”
Drustina nodded sagely as she recognised the soft light of devotion and affection in Arina’s eyes.
‘Young girls often became infatuated at this age of fifteen or sixteen, Arina should be no exception.’
As they settled for the evening Arina expressed her disappointment that she would not be sleeping with Fantu but General Tuk had lots to discuss with the budding leader. Drustina smiled and shifted restlessly as she struggled to get her ‘bump’ comfortable. Arina glanced across and giggled.
“I could have Fantu’s baby.” Drustina sighed.
“I had hoped you’d have mine but if you love him then I suppose an old sow like me shouldn’t get in the way of young love.”
“Old sow!” Arina squealed. “Dru you’re only seventeen yourself!”
“Yeah but I’m still fat and clumsy with this shild inside me.”
“Not for much longer,” Arina offered encouragement.
“Yeah; well I wish it’d hurry up. I’m thinking it might be twins again. This bump’s as big as the last one.”
Arina slid out of her bed and slipped in to spoon up to Drustina. Her hands slid evocatively over Dru’s belly and the lump responded with a violent kick. Arina let out a squeak and remarked.
“I think it might be. You’re one of twins yourself so the odds are high. Hello, I think I’ve just felt another head, here, feel here.”
Arina led Dru’s hand to the bump and Dru was forced to agree. There seemed to be two heads. Drustina sighed again.
“Well, I suppose it’ll make Astos happy, especially if there’s one of each.”
“Let’s just get through the next couple of weeks,” Arina cautioned.
“I don’t think I’ll be much involved from now on,” Drustina advised her. “This bump is getting heavy.”
“You’ll have to show your face though. The men expect to see the Lioness of Carthage at their head.”
“Yeah, well if they want me out there posing like a bloody figurehead, they’d better get this battle over and done with quickly. I want these babies born in Egypt.”
“Will you be leading the archers from the ships on the river?”
“That’s the general plan. I won’t have to wave my sword around and play the duellist card. Oooh! Dammit! This bump’s the very devil!”
“Don’t let the bloody bishops here you say that,” Arina grinned, “they’ll take you literally.”
“Bugger the bishops. They don’t have to have babies.”
Arina adjusted herself to allow Drustina room to turn again and try to get comfortable. Thus they shared what was to become several weeks of restless nights when Arina was not abed with her infatuation, Fantu.
The following morning, Dawned with an unusual rain and the allies eyed it suspiciously.
“It will turn the ground sticky and muddy. Troops will not be so mobile and we depend a lot on speed to match their heavier troops.” Tuk observed soberly.
“Then stay where it’s sandy and the soil drains easily.” Fantu suggested.
“And where is that?” Meronee asked.
“Away from the fields and plantations where the soil is sediment from the annual floods. Don’t forget, I was born to a farming family; humble origins I’ll warrant, but I do know this area. If we pick the higher, better drained sites and predetermine the best connections between them we can outmanoeuvre them.”
“Can you do that before we dispose our forces?” Tuk pressed.
“Some of it.” Fantu replied. “We’ll have to do a fast reconnoitre now while we’ve time.”
“Then to horse Captain.” Meronee urged.” Be about it and report as best you can and as much as you can. We start our plan tomorrow dawn.”
Needing no more urging, Captain Fantu took his lieutenants and sergeants to complete as much of a reconnoitre as they could before their forces met the Alwan army already showing signs of preparation. With each passing hour the lightly mounted officers sent back information with fairly accurate maps of the best sites along the river bank. And with each drip of vital information, Tuk was able to emplace his forces to increasingly better advantage. Drustina and her ship commanders simply prepared to deliver the troops as and where Tuk ordained. Queen Meronee was wise enough to recognise in her allies that she had a competent and effective reservoir of knowledge and experience. Meronee took something of a back seat and monitored the situation back at their main base camp as eventually, Tuk had his forces disposed as he felt best. As evening fell, Fantu finally took up their position on the ridge overlooking the first landing ground that Drustina was preparing to approach even as the Alwan Army was making its first rumbling north to put paid to the Nobatian Queen. The gap between the river bank and the buttress end of Fantu’s ridge was something of a choke point just like the palisade at the Carthage peninsular and Drustina watched developments like a hawk as she also watched Fantu’s signaller tucked away on a rocky ridge while Fantu and his bowmen waited until the opportune moment to strike.
For a couple of hours the Alwan column rumbled north driven by the tyrant king’s rage to finish the Nobatian bitch and her interfering once and for all. From their position hidden in the reed beds on the opposite Western bank of the White Nile, Drustina watched the column tramping north. She turned to her soldiers and remarked.
“We are well outnumbered men but remember your job is simply to hold the narrow strip for a few hours while their king decides what he’s going to do. Our main function is to gain the initiative, and hold it long enough to sow confusion and uncertainty amongst his troops. We are hoping he will turn some of his army to return to secure the strip. For a short while you will be facing his army on both sides. When the fight gets too hot, we withdraw and simply start to rain arrows down on his turned troops. Fantu will then join with us to simply pour arrows into their assembled ranks both facing each other as we return to our ships.
Plan B is to join our main front with General Tuk north of the strip if we find them either too hard pressed to hold the Alwans or going forward and south against the weakened Alwan Force. After that, it’s in the laps of the gods.
A silence fell upon Drustina’s troops as they realised the sobering thought that this was not a foregone conclusion. Then one of the young lieutenants turned to her.
“Will we have to withdraw?”
“If the fight gets too hot, yes. I don’t intend to sacrifice men unnecessarily.”
“We may lose men in the withdrawal.”
“If we have to withdraw, we will definitely loose men. It won’t be easy retreating back to ships off a beach despite having cover from the archers.”
“Best we don’t lose then.” The young man grinned.
Drustina smiled, she could have kissed him for his fatalistic optimism. The men murmured assent as his mood spread to his own platoon and then through the rest of the small force. With the mood improved they set sail up the White Nile in the darkness, to hide the ships on the opposite bank in anticipation of the bait being despatched along the dry routes by general Tuk. These ‘bait men’ were lightly armoured, mobile troops and they wore brightly coloured tunics so that Fantu and Drustina’s archers could easily recognise them and avoid hitting them. It would serve nobody any good if the ‘bait soldiers’ fell victim to their own archers.
As dawn broke it rained again but this suited the Allies.
General Tuk’s force arrived by boat at the commencement landing point and struck hard at the Alwan camp. It was akin to hitting a wasp’s nest as Alwan forces erupted along pre-planned routes to retaliate. Tuk’s forces fought briefly at the north border of the besieging camp and the Makurian King watched contemptuously from the mighty walls of Khartoum as the Alwans appeared to gain the upper hand. Eventually it appeared that Tuk’s force was compelled to yield and his force withdrew to the north. The Makurian King turned to his chief of staff.
“I don’t know what that impetuous fool Tuk was trying to do. The Alwan army is far too large for such a ridiculously small force. Just look at them running for their lives.”
“They’ll be annihilated when the Alwan cavalry catch up with them.” The Chief of Staff agreed.
“Is that not them now, setting out?” The king wondered.
“They’ll catch up with Tuk by the time he reaches the farms north of the ridge.” The Chief of Staff estimated. “Then they’ll be cut to pieces. Tuk is a reckless fool!”
And so it appeared to go. Tuk’s brightly coloured troops spread out amongst the farms thus appearing to scatter in disarray whilst in reality they were joining with their more heavily armed comrades who had moved quietly into the farms and onto higher ground where the going was firm. As the Alwan cavalry rampaged onto the soft tilled soil they realised that the black cloying soil of the irrigated farms was seriously impeding their horses. It was impossible to organise their forces into massed charges and deliver ‘sledgehammer’ blows to an enemy who was mainly ensconced inside farm buildings and armed with bows in addition to their swords and shields. As the cavalry started to mill about on the plantations they found themselves under fire from the farm houses and forced to retreat ... directly into the path of their own infantry who were only now arriving to do battle. As the infantry started to mass in preparation to ‘do something useful’ Tuk decided now was the time for Drustina and Fantu to reveal their forces.
With his heliographs facing south and east to capture the intermittent rising sun between the rain clouds, he gave the simple signal of a flashing light to order Drustina and Fantu to strike. On seeing the flashes, both commanders commenced their attack.
Fantu’s Ta Seti bowmen emerged from their hiding places on the ridge and started firing salvo after salvo of arrows down into the infantry column as the tail end passed the bluff. When Drustina came to land her forces it was virtually an unopposed landing for the pursuing column had passed north to attack Tuk while the remaining forces had separated from their comrades and returned to camp in anticipation of any more attacks. They left a void in the column that was gradually getting larger and Drustina hugged herself with satisfaction as she found her precious force making a virtually un-opposed landing directly at the foot of the bluff. She was now in a position to signal to Fantu and organise the next phase.
It wasn’t long coming as the Alwan commanders realised their forces had been split. Almost a quarter of their infantry and nearly all the cavalry were now surrounded by Tuk, Fantu and Drustina’s forces who all held advantageous positions. Furthermore, another contingent of Queen Meronee’s Nobatian army was arriving from the allies’ camp to reinforce General Tuk. It was to be mid-morning before the Alwans realised their pursuit force was in trouble and almost noon before they had organised a suitably mixed competent force to deal with the allied archers. Even as the force rushed north to break a path through Drustina’s plug between the bluff and the river bank they found themselves under fire from the bluff to the east and from the ships on the river to the west. They were running a gauntlet of death and they had yet to meet what few troops Drustina had mustered as a troop to act like the cork in the bottle. As the Alwan force struggled to march north, the allied ships full of bowmen kept pace with them and harried the western flank of the column constantly. By the time the Alwan van had reached Drustina’s small force she had withdrawn them back onto the ships to add to the water-born artillery that was the onslaught of arrows. By the time the debacle was finished in the early afternoon, the Alwans had lost their cavalry as a viable force as well as about a sixth of their infantry, and all due mainly to a variety of differently organised archery. That evening as the allies measured their progress, Tuk and Meronee had cause to thank Drustina for her imagination and Fantu for his newly acquired knowledge of mobile, mounted warfare. When Meronee sung Drustina’s praises the Celtic maid had to remind her that it was the stories of the Ta Seti bowmen defeating the roman legions that had made her realise that archers were the most formidable force on the field. She grinned as she reminded Queen Meronee.
“You have forgotten your own history your majesty. It was your own ancestors and their bows that beat the Romans when they had succeeded to defeat nations all around the middle sea.”
Tuk chuckled as he noted Meronee’s bemused embarrassment.
“Ah, you’re cunning commander lass, and no mistake. No wonder they called you ‘The Lioness of Carthage’; what should we call you? ... The crocodile of the Nile?”
“The battle’s not won yet general, there’s still a large force holding Khartoum under siege.”
“I don’t think their army has got the stomach for much more,” Tuk concluded.
Drustina kept her counsel. She had seen tyrants refusing to accept defeat before. Until the Alwan tyrant king was caught or dead, there would be little peace. Then she caught herself.
“God forbid girl, you’re a cynical bitch for one so young,” she told herself.
She excused herself from the table and made for her bed. It would be a lonely night because Arina had already made it abundantly clear she preferred Fantu’s bed.
“Is this how it always was for commanders and queens? Lonely and uncertain.” She asked herself as she laid her sword beside her then eased her clumsy belly onto her mattress and pondered the morrow.
o0o
A chapter in which drustina is forced to assist in the battle despite being heavily pregnant. Queen Meronee also takes advantage of Drustina's gravid state to avail herself of drustina's duality and sperm to meet her own dynastic ends.
The Angry Mermaid 37.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 37.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
The Nile in Nubia.
The Angry mermaid 37.
The moon had set sometime just after the middle hour and the rain clouds were covering the stars. A pure black darkness enveloped Drustina’s room.
Her bump was beginning to make her uncomfortable and she lay in the pitch black alternately wishing her bump would hurry up and be born and then wondering about tactics for the coming engagement. It was a worry, for their modest forces would finally have to face the massed Alwan forces. Consequently sleep escaped her.
Suddenly she sensed there was somebody or something else in her room. She silently gripped her sword and shifted into the darkest corner where the bed as touching the back wall of the little bedroom she had been allotted in the large farmhouse that served as a head-quarters. Invisible to all she crouched low to try and use what little light there was intermittently coming through the window as dark rainclouds slipped by Sirius, the brightest star. Then, as a gap in the clouds illuminated the window, Drustina saw a dark shape silhouetted against the stars. Her sword came up silently and she felt a soft resistance of prodded flesh as her razor sharp Toledo blade touched the intruder.
There was a sudden jerk and a squeal of pain.
“Ouch!! Sod it girl, don’t you ever sleep?”
“Meronee!? Is that you?”
“Yes dammit! You’ve cut my tit!”
“Well don’t creep up on people when they appear to be sleeping!”
“Have you got a reed wick oil light?” Meronee demanded.
“Yes. It’s on the side table but you’ll have to get a light from the torch in the alleyway.”
Meronee cursed and stumbled through the darkness in her urgency to get a light and check out her wound. She returned holding the little, ignited oil lamp up to her bleeding breast.
“Damn you! Look what you’ve done!”
“Well you shouldn’t creep around like that. Pisht girl. It’s only a little nick!”
As she scolded Queen Meronee, Drustina attended to the cut efficiently with herbs and poultices from her ‘war bag’. As she quickly stopped the bleeding she continued scolding the impetuous Nobatian Queen.
“Anyway, you know I sleep at all times with my sword beside me. It’s your fault. You’re lucky I didn’t run you through. So why the hell are you creeping around my bed at this unearthly time?” It’s long gone the middle hour!”
“Dammit Drustina. I wanted to share your bed!”
“My bed!” Drustina squawked.
“Hush girl! D’you want the whole bloody camp to know?”
“Why d’you want to sleep with me?” Drustina croaked hoarsely as the surprise still strangled her voice.”
“Why d’you bloody think?” Meronee replied as she knelt on the bed while Drustina relaxed her hold on her sword and felt under her pillow for her dagger
“Oh God! You’re not another one like Astos are you? What is it with these Nile Pharoes?”
“No, damn you I’m not. If you want it bluntly, I want your child.”
“My child! You can’t, it’s Astos’s child! He’s the father and our plan is to have the baby in Egypt.”
“No you fool! Not your child, child! Not that child. The other way you silly cow. I want you to father a child in me!”
Drustina fell silent.
“I’ve never done that. I make the fluids but nobody knows if I’m potent.”
“You said it works like a man’s cock!”
“Oh it certainly works, at least the stiffening and spurting bits work but as to fertile seed, well, I’ve never been proven. I’ve never penetrated a maid yet.”
“What! You’re telling me you are a male virgin?”
“Believe me Meronee! It’s easier being laid as a girl than it is getting laid as a man. I had thought that Arina and I would ... you know, but she chose somebody else. I find my compensations in my motherhood.”
There was a silent pause as Meronee realised Drustina had been slightly wounded by Arina choosing to find another companion. By any measure, Arina had found an excellent mate in Captain Fantu. Meronee felt sorrow for Drustina and sensed the warrior’s despair. As a wave of sympathy for Drustina radiated from Meronee’s breast she made herself comfortable and gently laid her hand on Drustina’s fertile bump. She sighed as the bump ‘kicked’ and her hand gently rubbed Drustina’s belly. Meronee decided to concentrate on the good things in Drustina’s much travelled life.
“You’re just so lucky, d’you know that?”
“How so?” Drustina wondered. “I’m about to face another battle that we still have no certainty of winning, my companion Arina has forsaken me for another, I’m far away from my homeland and I’m deemed a monstrous blasphemy by these ‘one-god’ bishops.”
“Not here you’re not; not in Egypt, not in Nobatia and not in Makuria.” Meronee countered.
“But your bishops ...” Drustina hesitated.
“Are not of the same mind as Rome’s bishops. They are Coptic Christians.” Meronee finished for her.
“Well, I must confess, they do seem a bit more — you know, understanding; compassionate.”
“They are,” Meronee reassured the pregnant girl, “and I have it from my own bishops that if I have a child by you it will not be condemned; even if it follows you ... you know, your duality.”
“God forbid!” Drustina sighed. “So far that hasn’t happened!”
“Would you give me a child then?”
“What? How? Look at my huge belly. How will we make union?”
“I’m flexible girl. Where there’s a will ...”
Drustina sucked her lip thoughtfully and the silence prompted Meronee to action. She slithered down into the bed and Drustina felt soft lips envelope her flaccid manhood. She twitched and gave a little guttural croak as the first stirrings of male desire made themselves known to her cock. Drustina had never felt lips on her manhood before and she started to make little growling sounds deep in her throat. She had lived now for so long as a girl that the sounds came as something of a surprise. She craned her neck over her pregnant lump to see Meronee’s smile gazing up at her in the lamplight. Her tongue was extended now and Meronee was licking the stiff, extended shaft. Drustina humped almost automatically as a long repressed maleness surfaced in her mind.
“Are you sure you can fit onto it ... that is, without crushing my own babies.” Drustina whispered.
“That’s not a problem my sweet young queen,” Meronee replied, “my problem is my virginity.”
Drustina’s eyes widened with realisation and she let off an involuntary chuckle.
“Bloody hell! Of course, you’re the virgin fighting queen!”
“And you are the lioness of Carthage! So come let us make a child to forge a dynasty that will rule all of Egypt.”
Drustina could only lie there as her bump served to immobilise her somewhat but Meronee knew what she wanted and how to get it. As her girl parts made touch with Drustina’s maleness they were already slick with desire. Drustina let out a gasp of lust as her manhood sensed the wet scabbard enveloping it. Meronee had impaled herself just far enough to feel her maidenhood being challenged.
“Mmmm!” That’s just so delicious!” Meronee rasped hoarsely.”
Drustina ached to hump her hips but was unsure of the consequences. She had known a girl’s hurt of virgin loss when first she slept with Torvel so she was determined not to make Meronee’s first time a painful memory. Drustina struggled to show all the gentleness and awareness to Meronee that Torvel had shown to her. Eventually, Meronee concluded she was sufficiently lubricated and impaled to take the next cautious step. She gently rocked her hips, experimentally at first but as the need took her, the action became more forceful and more demanding. She sensed the giving of her maidenhood and concluded that the barrier was breached. There was a tearing sensation but the pain was nothing like what she had expected. She had heard women tell of devastating hurt when first taken. Realising she was fully impaled Meronee looked down at Drustina wonderingly as a mild, confused disappointment crossed her face.
“Aren’t you supposed to thrust?!
“Yes. And I want to ... desperately; but I am waiting for you to say.”
“You’re sweet!” Meronee sighed. “Go to it lover, but gently please.”
“There can be no other way with this bump to shift.” Drustina sighed.
Meronee curved her slender body over Drustina’s belly so as not to crush it but embrace it. Drustina felt a warm comfort and humped responsively even as the ‘bump’ kicked. They both giggled as they felt the movement.
“He wants to join in!” Meronee squeaked as she savoured the thrust of Drustina’s hips.
“He’ll know my needs soon. They say an unborn child feels its mother’s feelings. Are you comfortable?”
“Perfectly,” Meronee cooed, “are you?”
Drustina giggled then snorted with amusement.
“I’m lying on my back with a perfectly beautiful virgin busying herself with my body. If that’s not ‘comfortable’, then what is?
What more could a boy ask for on his first time?”
Meronee joined in the chuckles but they soon turned to the more passionate sounds of lovemaking as the pair explored each other’s bodies with an intensity born of novelty.
Queen Meronee’s maidservant found them still embraced long before dawn brought sounds of preparations for the impending battle. The girl gave a startled gasp when she finally found her queen, for on discovering the Queen Meronee’s empty bed, she had gone silently searching for her ruler without giving away any secrets. It was a pleased maidservant who had finally found Meronee in Drustina’s bed for she was simply relieved to learn that her leader was safe and sound. She had been Meronee’s maidservant for over ten summers and knew her mistress well.
“Wake up ma-am, the troops are readying ma-am. They will expect you at their head soon.”
Reluctantly the pair parted and Drustina was amused to see just how open and unaffected Meronee was in front of her maidservant. Even the dried bloodstains of her lost virginity, sticking on her thighs did not seem to faze her as Meronee made her excuses to Drustina and left to have a quick bathe and breakfast.
“See you at the council in an hour.” Was Meronee’s parting word.
“An hour was plenty of time for Drustina to wash and eat. In battle mode she was used to quick preparations and she found herself loitering idly outside the council tent while waiting for other commanders to assemble. General Tuk was the next to appear and they chatted briefly before entering the tent. Soon the other seats were filled and the council made their final preparations. Drustina’s task reflected her encumbered condition and she was simply to organise the river transport as and where the troops were needed.
Drustina had two big problems. The first was arranging effective signals to get the boats and troops to where they were most needed. With Arina as her second in command they at least had two leaders who understood their own signals and that would avoid confusion. On the West bank of the Nile, riders were placed as unimpeded messengers to carry complex information up and down the bank quickly. Thus would the ship commanders keep a close eye on developments in the battle-field.
The second problem was creating some sort of barrier that could prevent Alwan ships from using the Nile’s northward flow to send down fighting ships or fire ships to cause problems for Drustina’s logistics and supply train.
To this end they landed a large party of farmers to work as military engineers and set a cable across the Nile that could be drawn tighter if any enemy ships were sighted coming down the river. This required several dozen’s of oxen to be mustered on the west bank where the end of the semi buoyant reed rope cable could be drawn tight if anything threatened. At first they thought it would be a simple matter of drawing the cable tight across the river but experiments proved that a large loop worked better. It put less strain on the cable and funnelled any floating objects into the belly of the loop. There they would be concentrated as they fetched up against the cable and they could be more effectively dealt with. This preparation was to prove extremely successful.
Ashore, Captain Fantu had long departed for the high ridge to prepare his Ta Seti bowmen for the coming fight while general Tuk had the main task of attacking the Alwan camp. In this at least, the allied forces now held the bottleneck between the east bank and the buttress end of the high ridge. There, just as in the famous Battle of Thermopylea, a small force could hold off a larger force simply by dint of the confined space between the buttress and the Nile Bank. The main difference being that Tuk’s forces could not be flanked by any secret path through the higher ground. Captain Fantu held that high ground and he had every intention of keeping it. Drustina hoped that the plan would suffice. Apart from landing reinforcements where general Tuk thought best needed, she also had the additional duty of providing the other side of the gauntlet of arrows that Fantu would lay down from the buttress. To this end, Drustina had organised three additional fast, small craft to ferry the archers where best needed. Just like Fantu’s forces mounted on their horses on the ridge, so Drustina’s bowmen were mobile up and down the river bank. Apart from general Tuk’s small but heavily armed troop at the choke point, nearly all the other combatants were highly mobile and lightly armed. Speed and surprise were to be Drustina’s main weapons and she secretly hoped her plan worked. For it was mainly her plan and, because the first part had worked satisfactorily, the allies were prepared to use the second phase.
General Tuk opened the account just as dawn was breaking and after all the allied troops had fed well but slept poorly. Few soldiers sleep easy on the eve of a big battle. Fortunately, the Alwan forces had presumed they would commence the attack for they still had the superior forces. Thus it came as a surprise when they found their defences being tested at daybreak even before the Alwan troops had eaten. Firstly a large detachment of mounted Ta Seti bowmen swept down from the ridge and attacked the picket lines to cause confusion as Tuk’s vanguard advanced as quickly as they could. The alarm spread rapidly through the Alwan camp as mounted bowmen struck as hard and as deeply as they dared before meeting resistance. Once it became too dangerous to charge around on horseback, the archers retreated behind their own advancing front line to provide flank support and rapid reinforcement where required.
Tuk noted with some satisfaction that the paucity of Alwan cavalry put the Alwan army at a severe disadvantage thanks to the previous guerrilla war of attrition during their march north. Yes there were a few squadrons of cavalry but nothing in sufficient numbers to provide that singular heavy blow that a full cavalry charge could inflict. The scattered squadrons spent most of their effective effort countering the rampages of the mounted Ta Seti bowmen.
Despite this initial success, the sheer size of the Alwan forces eventually organised into an irresistible force and the Allies retreated cautiously to prepared defence lines at the buttress choke-point. As the counter attacking Alwans pursued the allies north they had easy progress until they fetched up like a wave upon sand against Tuk’s prepared defences.
As the Alwan’s way was blocked they found themselves being fired on from above by Captain Fantu’s forces on the buttress crown and from the water by Drustina’s few ships that could be spared from the logistics exercise. Only about a hundred archers fired from three ships but their contribution to the destruction of the Alwan Moral far outweighed the allied material investment. Tucked down behind the bulwarks under their modest turtles of shields, the Nobatian archers were almost invulnerable to the Alwan retaliation as salvo after salvo was fired into the Alwan flank. The Alwan tyrant king could only fume and curse for his mighty siege engines were too clumsy to manoeuvre and aim at the moving ships.
Nevertheless, despite the allied mobility and flexibility, the massed Alwan army was proving a damnably hard nut to crack. Drustina received a message from General Tuk to launch the waterborne assault force at the most effective point but Drustina was hard put to find it. Finally, after being forced to recognise that it would have to be a ‘do-or-die’ attack, she chose a point where the bank was firm and not too steep and where the Alwan flank seemed thinly manned. The remaining ships relinquished their ‘convoy duty’ collected the hidden assault force from the west bank and delivered it where Drustina and the Nobatian Lieutenants thought best.
The ships flung the assault force ashore on the east bank at a point where the bank fell away to form a step and some trees had fetched up during the last flood. It gave the men a brief chance to dash ashore behind the protection of the beached tree-trunks and somewhere to give them a respite before launching themselves into the Alwan flank.
“Thank God for their red tunics!” Drustina remarked to her aid-de-comp as her archers and Fantu’s Ta Seti cavalry fired salvoes into the Alwan troops who had massed to address the growing wound in their side where the waterborne forces threatened once again to split the Alwan column.
“They’ve landed my liege,” a panting lieutenant panted up to report, “but it’s hard going. Please release me and my men to support them.”
Drustina eyed the fight and realised their small assault force was reaching an impasse. If they expanded their beach-head they’d need more troops to hold their perimeter. The lieutenant was right, more troops were needed. With a weary heart she gave the order and reflected silently that she was sending the men to a certain death. The Angry Mermaid and her three companion ships surged forward and rammed their prows into the sandy bank as the remaining men shouldered their bows and took up their swords and shields. As one they leapt ashore to plunge into the thick of the fighting while Drustina struggled with her apprentice lads to wiggle the Mermaid’ off the bank.
She shrank as she heard Alwan arrows start to ‘thunk’ into the woodwork. There were not many for most of the Alwan archers had been forced to resort to swords to repel the waterborne assault but even the few arrows that still flew presented a danger to Drustina and her tiny crew. It was impossible to expose themselves as they struggled to adjust sails and wiggle the ‘Mermaid’s’ stem out of the sand. Drustina cursed as she realised that somehow, her beloved little ship was stuck fast. One of the apprentices tried to look over the side but immediately invited a shower of arrows. His face greyed with fear as an arrow grazed his ear and he dived below the gunwale. Drustina realised they were in a serious jam. The flow of the river had them pinned firmly against an underwater obstruction and the little ship was going nowhere. Some of the Alwan archers realised they had a stranded ship in their sights. Drustina crawled along behind the rail to discuss their plight with the three apprentice boys.
“We can’t get her free boys.” She told them.
“Will we have to abandon her and swim for it?” The youngest apprentice asked.
“Not If I can bloody well help it. The ship is still packed with arrows and my war bow is down in the stern.” She replied.
“What can one bow do against that?” Another apprentice asked as he motioned his hand higher than the bulwark to indicate the Alwan forces.
An arrow sliced through the air to pierce his palm and he screamed more in shock and anger than fear.
“The bastards! Damn them!”
“Just be thankful you didn’t stick your head above the parapet.”
The boy looked stupidly at the offending arrow and cursed again as Drustina took hold of his wrist. Before he could protest she snapped the shaft and pulled the short remnant through the wounded palm. With the arrow removed the boy squeezed the painful wound and continued cursing while Drustina cast around the bilges looking for spare shields.. Another arrow whistled close by her head and she ducked lower as she cursed.
“Dammit! There’s a crack-shot bowman amongst their ranks. We’ll have to stop him.”
“How?” Asked the oldest apprentice.
“I’ll have to try and take him out. If you three form a small turtle with those shields by the foot of the mast, I’ll crawl back and get my bow.”
“Will you be able to hit him from here?”
“I’m going to try. It’s no good just sitting here and waiting to die. If our shore party are overwhelmed we’re done for unless we swim the river and I’m in no fit state to go plunging into rivers with this belly.”
The boys nodded as each concluded they were trapped so they might as well fight. They crawled around on their bellies to gather the spare shields whilst Drustina slithered under the thwarts to dig out her beloved war bow. As she strung it she realised she had a better view of the battle from the higher stern timbers so she motioned to the three lads to crawl aft and join her. When they reached her it was immediately apparent that a better Turtle could be effected using the additional higher bulwarks that protected the fat stern. Within seconds a small turtle was formed and Drustina was at last free to peep through the carefully controlled gap to study the Alwan forces. Finally she picked out what appeared to be the marksman with his bow. She explained how she wanted the turtle shields adjusted then carefully took aim. It was a long shot.
She cursed as her eyes followed her arrow while it struck another warrior who had inadvertently stepped between Drustina and her target. Fortunately the marksman had not noticed where the arrow had come from in the mayhem of battle and with Fantu’s arrows still continuing to rain down tracing Drustina’s shot would prove difficult. He stood choosing another target among the landing force so Drustina nocked her bow again and took careful aim.
Once again another man rose up in the path of the arrow and it lodged in his shoulder. Drustina did not hear the scream but the opposing marksman did. Drustina cursed as the marksman’s eyes started to scan the sector that contained the Angry Mermaid. He had realised there were still shots coming from one of the boats.
He stepped around a fighting couple to get a better look and inadvertently gave Drustina a clear shot. Drustina needed no second invitation and her arrow flew straight and true. The man crumpled to the ground and Drustina let go a sigh of relief as she turned to her apprentice boys.
“I’ve got him lads, he’s down.”
The youngest lad was about to stand up and cheer but the injured apprentice pulled him down with an angry snarl.
“Get down you stupid kid. There’s plenty more where that bastard came from.”
The youngster was about to protest to Drustina but when he caught her nodding sagely and staring meaningfully at him, he realised his fellow apprentice was probably right. They continued forming their turtle and could only marvel as Drustina made each of her extra-long arrows count. Through a tiny gap in the rear bulwark planks, the senior apprentice could give a running commentary as he described the chaos Drustina’s arrows were causing. He turned to Drustina with some satisfaction .
“Did you really mean to hit him ... that officer with the shiny armour?”
“The very same,” Drustina replied.
The older apprentice grinned.
“Remind me never to wear fancy armour and stuff if I’m ever in a fight.”
Drustina wagged her head despairingly.
“Haven’t you noticed. You’re in a bloody fight right now?”
“Well; yes — but; we’re not in any danger now. Your arrows have taken out their officers and stuff.”
“There’s a site more fighting to do yet kid. Believe me. You’ll find use for that shiny sword in your belt before this day is out so mind you keep it to hand at all time.”
The apprentice frowned slightly and curled his fingers around the sword in his belt while his companions looked on apprehensively. Drustina had to scold them gently.
“Pay attention to your turtle, the more we can knock out, the better for us later.”
They tightened the interlocking shields in their hands and Drustina resumed her attrition. Now however, with the immediate officers and sergeants knocked out, the Alwan troops nearest the Angry Mermaid were degenerating into an uncontrolled mob. Drustina smiled knowingly.
“We’ll have them on the run if Tuk can hold the northern front. They’re bottled up on four sides and I can see Fantu working his way down the face of the buttress with some of his bowmen. They’ve forsaken their bows for swords so he must have spotted an opportunity. The remainder of Fantu’s bowmen continued pouring arrows down into the main body of the Alwan force. It was this barrage that was containing most of the Alwan effort for without it, general Tuk’s forces would have been overwhelmed. Then Fantu disappeared behind the main melee and the last Drustina saw was Fantu fighting his way south towards the city of Khartoum.
Her attention was drawn again to the artillery fight between the bowmen.
“I think all the Alwan bowmen have run out of arrows, everybody’s using a sword.” The oldest Apprentice reported as he squinted through his spy-hole.
Drustina peered through her shooting aperture and concluded the apprentice was right. All arrows erupting from the Alwan ranks, had ceased. She spoke with satisfaction for it seemed the day was at long last going their way. Then, to her despair, she saw the arrow barrage from Fantu’s force start to wither. The arrows were not coming so thick and fast.
‘Where they running out of arrows as well?’ She asked herself as she decided to continue the tactic
“We’ll just keep pumping arrows into the mass whilst making sure we don’t hit our own red tunics.”
Cautiously the apprentices disassembled their Turtle and sought out some bows. Drustina instructed them to aim well away from the main melee where stray arrows could well kill their own men. She felt a kick in her belly and had to settle between the thwarts as the apprentices satisfied their bloodlust and pumped arrow after arrow into the main body of Alwan troops. There was little else they could do.
Then the wounded apprentice let out a shout and called to Drustina.
“There’s some sort of activity going on to the south. I can see more red tunics fighting the Alwans close to Khartoum.”
Drustina hauled herself clumsily to her feet and stood on the high poop to make out the situation. She couldn't understand where the extra troops had come from. They were certainly wearing red tunics but Drustina could not recognise them. Finally, one of the apprentices, the new Makurian inductee determined the truth.
“They must be allied troops who have sallied forth from the city. Look, they’re wearing the helmets of the city guard. I recognise them, my cousin wears one.
“My God!” She concluded. “Somebody in that bunch of cowardly bastards must have grown a pair of balls.”
The apprentice boys laughed at her crude feminism.
With another substantial force added to the Allied strength, the battle finally looked to be going their way. The refreshed city guard had come late in the afternoon to the fight and in truth, Drustina felt the allies were already beginning to win but nevertheless, she was grateful for the help. The battle would be shortened and fewer men would be killed. Her thoughts were confirmed as the sun began to set and, a white flag was waving over the northern Alwan force engaged with General Tuk
“At last,” Drustina sighed and sagged exhausted onto the main thwart at the foot of ‘The Mermaid’s mast’.
The day long effort from dawn to dusk had taken its toll of her pregnant body and she simply lay with a relieved smile as her three loyal apprentices called on some of the victorious allied troops to help drag the ship free of its impediments. Whilst other victorious commanders met and greeted each other on the field, the three apprentices ferried their sleeping queen back to Meronee’s main camp.
Drustina woke late the next morning to find Meronee and Arina peering anxiously into her face.
“How d’you feel?” Arina asked as she motioned to the nurse to fetch some strawberry tea.
“Tired.” Drustina whispered
“Yes, well it’s bed for you now.” Meronee commanded. “My healer thinks you might have got your dates wrong. This baby is further along than you think.”
Drustina became agitated.
“But I want the children born in Egypt, I want Astos to be with me. Dammit! I can’t be out by two months! He must have got me pregnant after the first coupling. The randy little sod!”
Meronee smiled for she knew full well the effeminate nature of King Astos. It seemed ironic that such an effeminate little king could have got the superbly built Drustina pregnant after one coupling on the wedding night. She reassured Drustina.
“We all know you want the babies born in Egypt my dear. Arina repeated it this morning when my healer mentioned her concerns. Have you noticed your breasts?”
Drustina fingered her nipples and started as she felt the sticky milk oozing out.
“Damn it! I’m near my time!”
“Yes, we think you are. Your ship is being prepared as we speak to speed you north to Egypt. Arina, your three apprentices, Fantu and I will accompany you. There should always be a royal witness to a royal birth and if you become parturient on the journey, I will be there to confirm the births.”
Drustina smiled and struggled to sit up. Arina expressed her concerns.
“Take it easy cousin. Mermaid is being readied as we speak. We’ll be gone before the sun is at noon.”
Drustina smiled weakly and Arina left to prepare their ship while Meronee stayed to chat.
“You’ve caused another sensation you know.”
“How? I hardly had anything to do with the fighting.”
“You may not think it. But the bowman you picked off with great skill was the king’s cousin and rated the best bowman in all Africa.”
“Says who, and how big is this Africa?”
“Well that’s as maybe, but then you also shot their deputy commander, you know the one with the fancy tunic. That’s when their moral started to falter. General Tuk fully admits they were losing it up until that point. You marksmanship with that bow has become legend.”
“I’m still not as good as ...”
“Your sister Aiofe,” Meronee finished, “yes we’ve heard that a hundred times. She must be some queen!”
“You should know, you are fully in contact with her.”
Meronee nodded as a nurse arrived with food. Drustina was not surprised to find she was hungry and quickly wolfed down the meal. Meronee watched thoughtfully.
“D’you want some more?”
Drustina nodded and she was halfway through her second helping when Tuk and Fantu visited. Each bore huge smiles and some valuable gold jewellery. Drustina tried her best to sit up straight and look regal in the bed but her efforts and subterfuge were soon spotted. The men smiled indulgently as the astute General Tuk remarked.
“You are already every inch a queen my lady and I wish you all success on your journey north down the mother river. My people cannot thank you enough. You might be pleased to learn I am promoted commander in chief and I owe it all to you. I and Fantu here will be deeply sorry to see you go.”
Both General Tuk and the newly promoted Colonel Fantu bent down to hug and kiss their heroine then made their excuses and left. Arina returned to assist with Drustina’s bath and before noon they were boarding The Angry Mermaid preparatory to journeying north.
As Drustina was assisted by Arina and Queen Meronee to the quayside, the whole allied force had assembled to wish her God-speed and safe voyage. Even the Makurian king and his queen had come to attend at the quay and they sheepishly thanked Drustina for her invaluable services. Drustina received yet more gold jewellery from the Makurian queen but she was too tired for any valedictory speeches and simply waved and smiled as she struggled to board her precious Mermaid. The rest of the party joined her and the convoy of escorting ships followed Mermaid down the river.
”ƒ
After the battle Drustina is forced to address her pregnancy and forthcoming parturition.
The arrival of her second set of twind brings home the hurt and confusion caused by her duality that drives her on the one hand to pursue her enemies in Cymru and punish them whilst hating to have to leave her babies behind to continue the Pharoic dynasty.
This chapter explores the hurt and confusion caused by these two conflicting issues in Drustina's life.
The Angry Mermaid 38.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 38
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
It took four days for The Mermaid to race north with a favourable wind and the rising Nile flood to speed her journey. At each cataract a team of helpers assisted the sturdy ship through the hazards while Arina preened herself with glory steering the craft and Drustina rode gently along the bank in case there were any mishaps. The floodwaters had changed the cataracts to dangerous torrents for the rains in Central Africa and the Ethiopian highlands had been particularly heavy that year.
As Drustina watched the mermaid thrashing and swinging in the white water she turned to Meronee.
“I’m glad I’m not aboard that in my current condition. This bump makes me so-oo clumsy!”
Meronee smiled a little wistfully.
“You’re right, you could never jump about like Arina is doing, just look at her everywhere at once attending to the ropes! She then turned enviously to Drustina and patted her gently on ‘the bump’.
“I hope I’m like that soon.”
Drustina frowned and sucked her lip thoughtfully. She also wanted Meronee to be with child by her cock because it would prove to Drustina that she was fertile both as a man as well as a woman.
‘What use was it having both sets of equipment if they didn’t both work? It was just a bloody nuisance and an invitation to abuse and condemnation.’
She smiled and rested her hand over Meronee’s as they both watched the Mermaid dancing furiously in the white waters. It was dangerous. Drustina spoke of her concerns then added.
“We, or rather you, should extend the lock and canal system to include the upper cataracts. It would help settle many issues of ownership and organisation on the river and its waters.”
Meronee turned and nodded.
“Now there, my dear young queen; speaks the mind of the true stateswoman. You see, you are turning into a planner and builder. They are essential elements of statesmanship. The very same thoughts were crossing my mind. It would also improve trade as well and that improves communication and that improves relations between our countries.”
Drustina smiled and nodded, pleased at the praise heaped upon her by a lady who was her hero. She mounted Seripatese very carefully and they plodded along the bank to arrive where the Mermaid was already tied up and waiting.
“What kept you?” An elated Arina asked as she sat still savouring the thrill of the descent.
“This,” Drustina replied as she patted her swollen belly.
“Well let’s not be loitering,” Meronee cautioned them. “If you want that baby born in Egypt we’d best be getting on.”
Drustina and the rest of the royal party clambered into her familiar ship and within minutes, Arina was pushing the faithful craft north again to take advantage of the rising floods.
As she stared attentively down the river, Arina’s gaze occasionally turned affectionately to her erstwhile companion. Drustina caught her glances and smiled back then Arina became pensive.
“What’s wrong comrade?” Drustina asked as Meronee turned to listen.
“I feel like a traitor Dru.”
“Why?”
“Well, Fantu wants me for his bride.”
Drustina fell silent. The fears she had felt since noticing their affection for each other had finally come to be. Drustina sighed and smiled bravely.
“I’ll miss you. Do you really love him?”
“Yes.”
A tear came to Arina's eye as she ‘confessed’ her feelings.”
“I do love him. I ache in here every time he’s with me and yet I feel guilty about betraying you. After all, I know you had expectations. I’m just so sorry to hurt you. My promises to you were made as a child in the flush of gratitude and hero worship. I thought I knew my own heart but it was a sort of puppy love. This, this ache for Fantu is just so different; I know it’s the real thing. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry for betraying you, for hurting you.”
Drustina sighed. ‘Another hope gone, another ambition to put aside in her lifetime quest to recover her beloved Lleyn.’
Arina sensed Dru’s disappointment and reached out apologetically.
“Do you mind? If I stay here in Makuria with him, that is?”
“Not if you’re happy, and he promises to always look after you.”
“I’ll see he does that!” Queen Meronee interrupted. “The Makurian King owes me some huge favours and one of them is to protect and care for a heroine of that battle. I’ll make Arina my ambassador to Makuria if she wishes, then she’ll always have diplomatic protection.”
Drustina smiled bravely but it hid the pain of parting.
"Will you come north as far as Memphis with me? At least to see my baby born. I'd like that."
Arina nodded.
“I had every intention of that. Makurian custom requires a man to court his intended for a full year. There’ll be no marriage for many a moon yet.”
Drustina sagged with relief and fell into a thoughtful silence. She had very mixed feelings about surrendering yet more of her children and yet her need to recover her land and punish the thieving Norsemen drove her like a thousand evil spirits. She could never rest until she had avenged the death of her family and put right the mighty wrong. She secretly knew that she would make a terrible mother until this wrong was righted and if it was never righted she would die an angry and embittered soul, useless to man nor beast. Her stomach tightened with a hot sense of injustice and she felt the acid bile burn her throat as her stomach churned. Her baby kicked knowingly and she cursed the brutal Norsemen silently, though Meronee seemed to sense the forces that tormented her acolyte. She came and sat beside Drustina and laid her arm around her shoulders.
“It drives you doesn’t it?”
Tears forced their way to Drustina’s eyes as she fought to hide her feelings. Finally she was forced to declare her despair to Meronee.
“They stole everything, they destroyed everything. I just want to get it back and put it right.”
“You cannot resurrect the dead Drustina.”
“No, but I can avenge them.”
“Did you not do that when you killed Blueface?”
Drustina had no answer and yet felt there were a dozen answers. In her confused mind it was hard to separate the various wrongs ... the murders, the loss of her family, the theft of her family’s land and the destruction of the beautiful oak plantations that they had nurtured upon that same land for hundreds of years; the exile she had been forced to endure coupled with the immense distances she had travelled in her search for justice and retribution and finally, finally the sword she had been compelled to take up time and time again as she was forced to ‘earn her corn’ by the only way she knew how. Drustina was tired of fighting, of always resorting to the sword to win her arguments, to avoid persecution and prevent any hurts; not forgetting helping others.
She lay back on the spare sail under the little bow cuddy and closed her eyes as a weariness overtook her. Whether it was the forthcoming birth or a mood of resignation, she knew not. She only knew she wanted to find some peace. Meronee sensed Drustina’s lassitude and gently laid a blanket over the girl’s already sleeping body. As she crept silently away she put her finger to her lips to command silence throughout the little craft. Soon the murmuring stopped and only the hiss of water around the slicing stem and rattles of the rigging disturbed the silence. These were noises as familiar to Drustina’s ear as rain on her back and wind in her long blond hair. They caused no disturbance to her sleep. As evening fell the Mermaid sped silently north eating up the miles in its race to the next cataract.
And so it went for several days with the upper cataracts interrupting the passage while the lower ones were bypassed by the locks and canals built by progressive Egyptian and Nubian pharaohs. During the whole passage, Drustina hardly spoke but to ask for food and the only company she would tolerate was Meronee. The Nobatian queen was concerned, she had seen such moodiness in expectant mothers before and she feared for Drustina’s sanity. To everybody’s relief, when they reached Philea, which served as the border town between Nubia and Egypt, King Astos was waiting expectantly on the bank. Drustina perked up slightly and that night she went into labour.
Superhuman efforts were invoked to ensure The Mermaid arrived in Egypt before the delivery but it was a remarkable finale. As the vessel entered the lower lock and the actual border betwixt the kingdoms, Drustina brought forth a baby girl. Both Meronee’s Healer and Astos’s healer attended in the bow of the mermaid while both crowned heads sat expectantly at the foot of the mast while Drustina cried and cursed loudly.
“My child is born in Nobatia! It is not Egyptian!”
“Silence woman!” The healers commanded. “The Mermaid is about to slip the lower lock gates and that puts her in Egypt. There is another child! You are having twins.”
“What! Twins! Again?! Shit! It’s always double the pain for me!”
Drustina cursed even as the lowest lock gates opened and the Mermaid nosed carefully into Egyptian waters.
“Twins,” she half smiled then screamed again as labour pains betook her for the second time. “Not a-bloody-gain.”
“We expected it.” The healers told her. “Your first is a daughter. We await your second but now we are in Egypt.”
“Pray God let it be a son!” Astos cried. “My sister Amitor has born a daughter.”
“Pray to God it is born healthy.” Meronee added to remind the king of the greater importance.
And it was.
To everybody’s delight, a son was born and he cried lustily. Drustina slept but already preparations for celebrations were being spread throughout Egypt.
Later that day, as evening betook them, The Angry Mermaid tied up at a common mercantile quay where Drustina awoke to ask for her babies. They were brought to her and the natural mothering processes were indulged. Queen Meronee and Arina watched enviously while Colonel Fantu went ashore and celebrated with wine as he congratulated King Astos on his success as a father.
“Well, you’ve proved yourself a man Sire; you filled her up with two babies.
The king’s healer heard this remark and boldly corrected the colonel.
“Be sure sire. The Twins are Drustina’s part in this happy event. Her first birth was twins and I would not be surprised if any future births are twins. She is one of twins and she has this strange duality. Be sure my dear colonel, the twins are Drustina’s doing.”
Fantu then exposed his Christian, monotheist, chauvinist preconceptions.
“But she just bears the children like the soil in the field bears the corn. It was Astos’s seed that grew in her!”
“If it is Astos’s seed my dear colonel, then where did the girl child come from? Are you saying King Astos is part girl?”
Fantu swallowed hastily and nervously. King Astos’s obvious femininity was a touchy subject.
“I uhhm ... no!”
“Exactly my dear colonel. The woman brings her part to every birth and while neither you nor I nor anybody understands the magic, be assured that motherhood is by far the greater part! I’m sure you will have noticed; children can follow their mothers every bit as readily as they follow their fathers. There is as much a part of the mother in every child as there is the father. That I can vouch for; for I have attended upon hundreds of births ... and watched the children grow!” He added softly.
Fantu replied in a much more subdued tone.
“Very well healer. I must bow to your greater knowledge.”
The healer nodded and smiled a little condescendingly before producing another flagon of wine to make the king, the colonel and himself totally drunk. When they staggered back to The Mermaid Queen Meronee scolded them like naughty children and sent them packing to an inn to spend the night so as not to disturb the sleeping mother. As an extra precaution she slept on the Mermaid close to Drustina while Arina and Meronee’s female healer slept guarding the twins. On the quay, a whole platoon of Astos’s guard kept watch. The rest of the accompanying fleet moored up and down the quay to provide an additional boundary of safety. After the trouble with Astos’s cousin, nobody was taking any chances with the new prince and princess.
With the birth completed and the second child, the boy child, delivered safely in Egyptian territory, all the stress and tension in the voyage was evaporated. The Mermaid spent two days alongside and the little trading port of Aswan took on something of a festive air as celebrations went apace. Despatches were sent to all parts of the kingdom but not least to advise Torvel and Amitor of the splendid events. During the two days spent celebrating below Aswan, a proper, royal progress was organised and the little fleet that had raced down from Khartoum now grew to an armada of impressive royal barges. Most had accompanied King Astos on his journey south to meet Drustina in anticipation of the birth so it was a simple task to turn the king’s flotilla into a veritable fleet of ships. When the royal party arrived in Memphis it seemed the whole of Egypt had turned out to welcome the royal family. Drustina was overwhelmed by the celebrations and felt embarrassed to be the centre of so much attention. She was however delighted to find that Torvel and Amitor had made it their business to come to Memphis to join the celebrations. She was also delighted to see Amitor’s daughter and congratulated the king’s sister on her success.
“It’s hard to reconcile the fact that these two are expected to marry. They’re first cousins. Our culture wouldn’t normally encourage first cousins to marry.”
“Well it was legal during Pharoic times and it’s legal according to the bible.” Amitor shrugged. “Anyway, our healers say there is a good blood mix now. Torvel is in no way related to you so there’s a safe bloodline.”
Drustina fell silent. She knew that first cousin’s marrying was something she and her Celtic kinsmen would have avoided. She broached the next issue and it was a painful one.
“Will you be caring for my babies when I’m gone?”
Amitor nodded then stared wonderingly at the warrior queen who had travelled so far and done so much.
“I could never abandon my children.”
Drustina felt a stab of pain; it seemed that Amitor was criticizing her.
“I’m not abandoning them. Both you and their father will be raising them. Astor dotes on them; he’s more like a mother to them than a father.”
“But you’re their mother. How can you forsake your own flesh?”
Drustina felt a bitter heat growing in her belly. How could she explain to Amitor just how driven she was; just how wounded by hatred and motivated she was by the despair when her family and her home were torn from her by fire and sword? This was something of a downside to Drustina’s duality ... the male urge to avenge her loss. The inability to ever forgive the brutal barbarians who had so destroyed her childhood and happiness.
She had survived the early loss of her mother caused in part by her own arrival and then the loss of virtually her whole family to the Norsemen’s swords. Drustina had never known a mother and now she was so damaged by her loss that she was now unable to recognise it as a loss. Her personality had become so deformed as to have frozen out just about all emotions but one, hatred. Of love and compassion and nurture, these humanities were lost to Drustina or at least, put on ‘hold’ until her mission was accomplished.
She couldn’t or wouldn’t answer Amitor’s question. It would open too large a can of worms. Instead she fell into a reflective silence that Amitor mistook for some form of remorse. It wasn’t though, for Drustina had already resolved to leave Egypt as soon as her children were weaned.
During those months, she finally impregnated Meronee and completed what she considered to be enough education to one day serve her own people ... her own nation.
Finally, King Astor concluded that he had established a stable and loyal governorship in Memphis and he could return to Alexandria which was his preferred residence. He and Queen Meronee parted company and Meronee returned to Nobatia with a belly full of fecundity. Drustina accompanied her king to Alexandria and she was pleased that Amitor, Arina, Torvel and Fantu decided to accompany them. On the passage north down the Nile she sensed that the others were planning something but whatever it was it did not seem aggressive or in any way dangerous. They arrived in Alexandria to find a letter requesting that Drustina attend at the court of the Byzantine emperor. As Drustina read it she frowned.
“Do I have to obey this? I could just sail due west and home to Britannia. I want to get home and start recovering my homelands.”
Astos read the missive and frowned. An invitation from the emperor was a virtual order. He explained this.
“Dear Drustina, if you ‘disobey’ this ‘invitation’ you could embarrass me and that might threaten my position here in my own kingdom. That, I must tell you, might also threaten the position of my children, that is — your children.
Drustina understood King Astos’s fears but she was not convinced.
“Why should I go north to Constantinople? If I return west by the way I came I might get an opportunity to stop by in Carthage and possibly recover my children now that the dammned bishop is dead.”
“That could be risky. You have no idea what sort of reception you’ll get. Remember the Roman bishops still hold sway in those parts.” Astos warned. I think it best that you at least wait until we can somehow sound out the mood in Carthage."
Drustina fumed. It seemed that everybody was conspiring to delay her plans and she had already lost enough time. She went to bed that night alone for Astos had returned to his first preferences, namely boyfriends. Drustina did not condemn him for this, Astor had never been dishonest about his sexuality and she accepted his situation. She had plenty to occupy her time with her newborn baby twins. The following morning at breakfast, Amitor reassured her about the emperor’s ‘invitation’.
“About his letter Drustina.”
“Yes. What of it?”
“Well it’s not a threat. You’re highly thought of in Constantinople.”
“Huh. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that kings and emperors can be very fickle.”
“Well at least give the emperor the chance to prove himself otherwise. All the ships coming from there tell of how highly you are regarded for stopping the piracy.”
“That’s been blown out of all proportion as well. All we did was capture one pirate ship and send another packing.”
Drustina bit into her fruit and sipped her wine thoughtfully as she played with her babies. Amitor smiled indulgently and took her own daughter in her arms before snuggling up close to the heroine of Khartoum.
“Your children will be safe here if you feel you must leave to recover your kingdom. Are they not my flesh and blood also? They are, after all, my brother’s children and I will rear them as my own. Your paying your respects to the emperor will reinforce their safety because he holds you in very high regard. I’m convinced he just wants to meet the warrior queen, the Lioness of Carthage and the ‘She-crocodile of the Nile’.”
Drustina pouted sulkily then her face broke into a grin.
“I’m not sure about that last title; crocodile ... I’m not that ugly surely.”
Amitor giggled with laughter and Arina found them laughing as she arrived for breakfast. She had been late due to ‘morning sickness’. Drustina studied Arina thoughtfully as the girl took her seat and immediately started eating ‘for two’.
“Would you want to meet with the emperor too?” She asked her hungry friend.
Arina paused between mouthfuls and frowned.
“Who’s going?”
“Me, Amitor, Torvel and several new appointees, not to mention a royal convoy of accompaniment. We’ll be going via Cypru and Kriti.
“I’m due to have my baby in a few months. Will we be safely arrived by the time I have him?”
“I would think so. My twins are almost weaned and Seripatese has weaned her foal. For once we go when I’m ready. If you want, we can rush on ahead in The Angry Mermaid and the rest of the royal convoy can follow on. You can come with me and my babies or follow on with the main fleet. They’ll have the doctors and such like with them. What we can do is wait at each island until the main convoy arrives and that way your journey will be divided up into longer stays ashore. Anyway, I don’t understand why you’re frightened. You’ve several months to go yet. Our journey could be over in a couple of weeks if we go for broke in The Mermaid.”
“I’ll talk to Fantu about it. Will Torvel be with us on The Mermaid?”
“I don’t know. Horam the boat-builder’s two sons will be with me. They’re dead keen on another adventure and they proved their worth at Khartoum.”
“I’ll think about it. If Fantu agrees I’ll come with you provided he can accompany me.”
“That’ll be five in the Mermaid or six if Torvel accompanies us. It shouldn’t be a problem.
“What about your babies?”
“They’ll be travelling with Amitor in the main fleet. She’ll be looking after them from now on.”
Arina fell silent for a moment then expressed her feelings.
“Don’t take me wrong because I know what drives you but I just couldn’t abandon my babies. That’s the only bit that seems to set you apart from other women.”
Drustina smiled ironically.
“Yeah, that and my cock. One day, one day maybe, I might see my children again but I don’t hold out much hope. Besides, my son is heir to the Pharaoh’s throne; he can never leave Egypt, permanently that is.”
Arina smiled softly and hugged her companion before explaining.
“I’ll come to Constantinople with you but beyond that, depends upon Fantu. I’m to be his wife come the next moon and then I will be loyal to him. Whither he goest I will go.”
“You’ve been reading too much bible my girl.” Drustina smiled sadly. She did not want to lose Arina but their paths looked as though they were parting. After Constantinople, who knew where? She rose from the table, Kissed Amitor and Arina then made her way to the practice yard and Archery butts to recapture her sword skills. If The Mermaid was to travel ahead and alone she would have to look to protecting herself. A woman travelling alone was always an invitation to some men.
o0o
After a week of preparation, mostly caused by Egyptian preparations of the royal convoy for Amitor and the babies, the convoy was ready to leave. The Angry Mermaid departed with the main convoy out of courtesy but as soon as they were out of sight of land, Drustina bid them goodbye until they arrived in Constantinople and soon the mermaid was speeding ahead. Horam’s two sons stood at the tiller beside Drustina with smiles of delight frozen onto their faces. They had never dreamed they would one day be sharing the navigation of the famous ship with her famous captain. In the bow, Arina and Torvel sorted through the equipment and re-arranged it with a practice born of years of sailing. At the rail, Fantu was chucking his guts up and oblivious to the sympathetic smiles from Dru and Arry. Dru turned to the two apprentices now promoted to navigators.
“Now he’ll know how his wife feels and perhaps he’ll be sympathetic when next she has the morning call.”
The older of Horam’s sons expressed concern.
“If he continues like that your majesty, he could die.”
“Dru smiled and patted his shoulder reassuringly.”
“Fear not my lad. I have medicine that will cure him shortly. Just let him suffer a bit and know what his wife is going through every morning.”
Both lads grinned and resumed steering while inspecting the valuable Roman chart that Drustina still referred to. The old Roman documents had proven to be one of The Mermaid’s most valuable assets after her speed, seaworthiness and manoeuvrability. Horam’s sons were truly impressed to learn of all these qualities as they practiced putting the ship through her paces under Drustina’s excellent supervision. Constantly they remarked about some newfound feature or aspect when Drustina showed them the qualities with which her wooden birth-child had been blessed. The Mermaid made excellent speed and on the third morning despite a constant headwind, they spotted the Cypru coast. A reference to the precious portfolio of charts soon identified Capo Gata that sheltered Lemeso from the north, west and southern winds. They all decided it would be a good landfall in view of the Northerly and Westerly winds prevailing.
Chapter 39 describes the Angry mermaid's adventures on passage from Cyprus to Rhodes during their voyage to Constantinople to pay their respects to the Byzantine Emperor.
The Angry mermaid 39.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 39.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Lemeso has no proper harbour though. Ships anchor in the shelter of Capo Gata and trade by sending good ashore in much smaller boats that are drawn up on the beaches and trading is done there and then on the beach. The Angry Mermaid had no cause to trade for she was strictly on a mission and she carried no merchandise. Instead Drustina anchored as close inshore as she dared and she and Horam’s older son swam ashore to declare themselves.
The small town hastily arranged a reception committee and advised them to make for Pafos at the western end of Cypru. It was in the right direction for Kriti or Rodos which would be their next port of call. Drustina took their advice and sailed immediately westwards. Evening found them at the approaches to Pafos harbour. Nobody knew the harbour and their chart portfolio did not contain a large scale chart. Drustina stood with the rest of her companions debating the approach.
“I don’t like the look of that reef, the water to the west of it is quite disturbed. I think the reef extends further out but under the water. There’s either a gap in the reef or we have to around it and I can’t see any pointers."
The two brothers shrugged. They trusted Drustina for they had seen her behave bravely and recklessly when circumstances warranted it. There was no cause to risk their precious ship and their lives just for the sake of a night in port. Arina and Torvel agreed so they chose the safer option. They dropped the anchor stone and decided to wait out the night.
Dawn found them being visited by a small patrol boat that emerged from the harbour and after declaring themselves, they were invited to enter. The route proved to be quite tortuous and when they finally made themselves secure alongside Drustina mentioned the complexity to the harbourmaster. The Harbourmaster simply shrugged and mumbled something about a shortage of funding for buoyage, then he had the sheer cheek to demand a preposterous docking fee wholly at odds with the service and conditions in the port. It pointed to a general decay of organisation and maintenance in the whole fabric of the island and Drustina deemed this to be another sign of a general malaise throughout the Byzantine Empire. Eventually, she managed to barter the price down and after re-victualing with a few almost rotten, overpriced supplies, The Mermaid left before anymore capricious and unwarranted demands could be made.
As they looked back at the disappearing Island, Drustina shrugged philosophically.
“If it’s like that through the rest of this empire, I don’t hold out much hope.”
“Bunch of cheats and scumbags,” Fantu observed and everybody voiced some sort of agreement.
Two mornings later found them passing between the broken legs of the Colossus of Rhodes. Arina looked up and sniggered.
“I bet the old sailors got a good view when he was all there but I think they would have preferred her to have been a maid.”
It raised a mild chuckle around The Mermaid but everybody was too preoccupied with the reception they might get. They hadn’t received any antagonism so far in their journey but they had experienced unbounded avarice amongst assorted officials. Drustina was becoming frustrated and impatient by it all.
Having passed between the broken stumps they found the harbour crowded with ships. There was some sort of nautical festival going on so they had to tie up to a raft of ships and step across several decks to get to the shore. The moment she had agreed to secure herself to another ship, the Mermaid and her crew started to attract attention. Fair-haired and red haired women were quite a rarity in the Middle Sea and many eyes turned towards the strangers. The Mermaid’s strange design also attracted curious eyes. As the two men stepped from ship to ship to reach the quay, Torvel and Fantu soon found themselves being questioned about the women by curious mariners.
“Are they your wives? Are they Viking Women? Are they for sale? Where did you get them? What type of ship is that?”
Having shared many dangers together and now sharing an intense bond of mutual respect and affection with the girls, both Torvel and Fantu found the questions offensive; especially as they demonstrated that everybody presumed the two girls to be either wives with little status or just slaves.. Eventually Torvel became impatient and snapped angrily at the group crowding around.
“No! They are free women and the golden haired woman is the captain!”
Finally, they found the harbour master’s office and paid the ship’s port dues. When they returned, the six companions decided to always leave at least two members aboard for there seemed to be too many shifty looking strangers hanging around. That night they decided to stay for the festival the next day and then depart after victualing again.
By nightfall of that first day, the news was all around the harbour and the ships that the famous ship with the famous captain was actually tied up amongst them. Crowds started to gather on the quay adjacent to Drustina’s little ship and where there were crowds there was drunkenness and trouble. Fortunately, The Angry Mermaid was moored on the outside and any visitors would have to cross several decks to reach her; nevertheless Arina and Fantu found themselves having to discourage nosey, uninvited visitors while the others were ashore.
When Drustina and Torvel returned with the two young navigators, Horam’s sons, they found Fantu and Arina engaged in a heated argument with a group of well-dressed visitors who seemed to think they had a right to visit the Mermaid.
“What’s the problem?” Torvel asked as they stepped across the bulwark from the inside ship.
Arina turned with relief showing plainly in her eyes.
“Ah! Thank God you’re here. These people think we’re some sort of part in the festival, in the celebrations.”
“Well we’re not. We’re just a ship on passage to Constantinople.” Drustina announced as she decided to take control.
“Who are you?” The obvious leader of the visiting party demanded.
“I am the Captain.” Drustina announced, choosing not to elaborate with all her titles.
“Then you must be, that woman, the one who —“
“What if I am? Today I am just a passer-by on passage to Constantinople. Now, if you don’t mind; I and my crew are tired. We have come from Egypt with little sleep and we leave immediately after the festival is over.”
“But; but you are an honoured visitor, you must make a formal visit to the governor.”
“Sir, we are just a ship, on passage and just stopping by to take on Fresh water. Cypru proved to be short of water and victuals and what little they had proved expensive and poor quality. So please, if you don’t mind, it’s dark, it’s late and we are tired.”
At this abrupt refusal the group leader seemed to take some small offence.
“I don’t think you realise who I am.”
“So who are you sir?” Drustina sighed patiently.
“I am the deputy governor of Rhodos. When captains of ships get an invitation from me, they are expected to respond promptly.”
“Sir,” Drustina continued quietly, “When the Lioness of Carthage is tired and weary, she sleeps. When The Crocodile of the Nile is tired, she also sleeps, when the Queen of Egypt decides to retire, others attend upon her; she does not attend upon mere governors. When a visitor with an express invitation from The Emperor passes through en route to visit the emperor himself it is best that mere governors attend promptly and make the passage easy.
Finally when Drustina Gangani, the warrior queen is annoyed, whole kingdoms tremble. Now go away and come back at a more respectable hour, this is no time to be paying courtesy calls!”
The deputy Governor visibly paled even in the candle light and he scraped so low to bow that it embarrassed everybody. Then he made his excuses and left. Drustina smiled softly ... rank occasionally had its advantages. Arina caught her companion’s satisfied grin and they secretly shared the amusement. Then they retired to the bow cuddy as Torvel and the oldest Horam boy took first watch.
Drustina woke as the noises of the morning disturbed her and she frowned to see the harbour already busy with preparations. A stiff breeze had sprung up and the raft of ships was rocking and bumping. Arina and the Horam boys were busy arranging fenders.
“Why didn’t you wake me for my watch?” She asked Fantu.
“You seemed exhausted my lady. Torvel and I decided to let you sleep. You’ll have trials enough today judging by the interest gathering around us.”
Drustina sat up, looked around the harbour and cursed softly. Already a crescent of curious ships had gathered to anchor around the Mermaid without actually making fast.
“Dammit. I had hoped to travel incognito.”
Even as she cursed, a gap opened up in the crescent and an ornate barge entered the space. Drustina saw a fat, piggy eyed individual sat pompously in the stern and correctly surmised it to be the governor. The barge laid alongside and Drustina grudgingly acknowledged the expert handling. The morning breeze was quite strong and the barge scraped gently alongside The Mermaid. Some gold leaf was dislodged from the rail of the barge but The Mermaid’s tough oak was unaffected. Even so, the fat, piggy eyed governor gave the barge-master a row for being so clumsy. Drustina watched the scene of public humiliation and decided there and then that she did not like the governor. She, with all her years of seamanship and expertise, thought the barge-master had done a good job.
Having made sure everybody within earshot had heard the public haranguing and thereby establishing his authority over the other Rhodians, the fat governor turned his attention to Drustina and The Angry Mermaid’s crew.
“Your majesty. Might I humbly welcome you to my authority and I must humbly apologise for my barge-master’s incompetence. I hope there is no damage to your wonderful ship.”
Drustina could restrain herself no longer. She stood up on The Mermaid’s bow, looked along the rail and wagged her head.
“There is no damage to my ship sir for she is a stout and sturdy vessel, and might I add, I thought your barge-master handled his barge expertly. This is a dammned strong breeze. I speak as a fellow mariner who has travelled far. I thank you for the welcome for I know we were not expected.”
As she said this she raised a neat little single fingered salute to the barge-master who stood rigidly to attention while a small expression of relieved thanks slid across his face. Drustina also noticed the glance from the governor that carried pure hatred and Malice. She realise she might have overstepped the mark by (as she thought,) tactfully correcting the governor and now she realised she might have put the barge-master’s livelihood or even his life in danger. As the governor droned on into his welcome speech Drustina was wondering how she could ensure the barge-masters safety.
Eventually, the governor fell silent and an expectant quiet settled around them. Drustina realised she was expected to respond. She hated all the pomp and formality but it had to be faced, so she spoke briefly of the warm welcome she had received and of the pleasure of arriving during a festival which she fully intended to enjoy. She accepted the governor’s invitation to an evening dinner that was initially to celebrate the festival but now doubled as a reception banquet. With formalities completed and injured egos soothed, the governor departed while Drustina and her crew were now free to go ashore and savour the festival. Two watchmen had been supplied by the governor to guard the ship.
Ashore, the Mermaid’s crew had to suffer the constant attentions of the citizenry but they managed to make their way through the crowds and visit the various attractions. At eventide they arrived at the governor’s residence to a formal reception. The governor had been doing his researches and reading up on neglected official correspondence from the Palace at Constantinople. With every pertinent letter referring to Drustina, the fat lazy governor realised he had a very important and high ranking visitor and he cursed himself for not having attended to his duties more responsibly. The man was an indulgent, sexually obsessed satyr who spent most of his time bedding concubines and servant girls. Finally he had reached the letters referring to Drustina’s sexual duality and the man was salaciously anticipating their meeting that evening. He was an altogether odious individual. Drustina’s discreet inquiries in the town during their festival visit, had already established this and she was not particularly looking forward to the meal.
The whole crew arrived to find a virtual bacchanalian orgy in progress, hardly the proper reception for a visiting queen, even one travelling virtually incognito. The governor had wrongfully presumed that Drustina’s reputed sexual duality was also reflected in her morality and sexuality. She soon put him right.
The meal was eaten in a cold silence and Drustina hardly spoke but to accept or refuse different courses. Of wine she drank none. She suspected, (rightly as it turned out,) that a clear head was needed to avoid any stupid sexual advances that might originate from the debauched courtiers who danced sycophantically upon the governor’s every whim although the sexual element quickly evaporated when the governor realised that Drustina was not some sort of debauched sexual freak. Drustina was forced to lie, Roman style on a low couch to eat her food then when the food was completed, she made her excuses and promised to speak to the governor in the morning before resuming her journey to Constantinople. The man had sufficient wit to realise he had made a blunder and the following morning he moved to remedy the damage.
“I’m sorry your majesty didn’t find the entertainment to your liking.”
Drustina decided to be tactful and conciliatory.
“It is I who must apologise governor, we were tired after the voyage and we overindulged ourselves at the festival yesterday.”
“And what did you find to entertain you there?”
“The music, the performers and tumblers, the general air of festivity. People were friendly and welcoming.”
“Well I’m glad you found my people a pleasure. I’m sorry I misjudged you. I just thought; you know ...”
Drustina shrugged and gave a wan, tactful smile. She did not wish to cause anymore offence or show any for the Governor still gave her the creeps. His piggy eyes seemed to be all about her and constantly fell to the ‘vee’ of her tight fitting skirt. He was obviously searching for some evidence of manhood but such was Drustina’s skill in hiding such parts, there was nothing to tell of her duality. Then, after about the seventh look the governor glanced up to find himself being scrutinised by Drustina’s cold, penetrating stare. He immediately realised he had been ‘caught’ and his face reddened. The silence only served to magnify the coldness of their relationship so Drustina decided to leave immediately without further ceremony that might have brought further embarrassment.
Then she remembered the docking incident of the previous morning and the governor’s abuse of the barge captain. She sensed the governor was a vindictive man and the barge captain’s livelihood was probably at risk. She decided to at least do something useful and good to justify her visit, other than re-victualing The Mermaid.
Perhaps, she thought, if she could depart from the governor’s hospitality with some small goodness achieved, she might at least make the man believe they had left on good terms. That at least might serve to smooth the departure and avoid any potential pitfalls later in the voyage. Finally she worked out a ploy. She turned to the governor as she was preparing to leave and asked.
“The archipelago around the coast to the Hellespont; it’s a very complex navigation I’m told.”
The governor knew little of navigation but he did know his geography and he nodded affirmation.
“There are many islands and bays. Some of them lead into blind bays and dead ends and if the winds are strong, then yes, there is a possibility of fetching up on some remote rocks.”
Drustina just nodded thoughtfully as though digesting the Governor’s advice. She and her companions were sufficiently competent to avoid being wrecked upon any shore but the charts had certainly shown the islands to be numerous and complex. A guide with local knowledge would be very useful. She expanded these thoughts to the governor.
“Could I possibly hire a man with local knowledge of the passage from here to the Hellespont?”
The governor, eager to repair the damage of the previous, catastrophic evening, agreed immediately.
“Take your pick. There are many experienced men in Rhodes; after all we trade the Ionian Sea constantly.”
Drustina smiled broadly and agreed to go down to the harbour to ask the local captains although she had already chosen her man. The governor gave an oily smile and they shared a final handshake. Drustina sensed the man was glad to see the back of the ‘offended queen’. She smiled inwardly as she made her way to the harbour. It was an easy task to locate the brightly decorated governor’s barge and she invited herself aboard. The crew recognised her as the visiting queen and bowed respectfully. She approached what looked like the duty officer by his more ornate uniform and asked.
“Might I speak with your captain please?”
The officer’s eyes lowered as he replied.
“Would that be the captain who was sacked this morning?”
Without showing any sign of surprise or concern, Drustina replied.
“Yes. If he is no longer captain, where am I likely to find him?”
“Probably at home explaining his situation to his wife.”
“Is he well thought of by his colleagues?”
“He wouldn’t have been awarded the job if he wasn’t. The captains cast votes and the winner is recommended to the Governor’s chamberlain.”
“Oh. A very democratic process, I’m mildly surprised.”
“We are Greek your majesty it’s the way we do many things, or was until the Romans brought their tyrannical ways.”
Drustina knew much of Rome and the Romans. Their bishops had already demonstrated how ‘undemocratic’ Rome could be. When Constantine had separated from Rome to form the eastern empire, he hadn’t changed the administration very much and many of the oppressive laws had carried over. Drustina nodded sagely. The marine sphere was probably one of the few arenas where merit and skill counted for almost everything. An incompetent mariner did not last long at the hands of Neptune or Poseidon so the remaining captains were necessarily proud of their station and very independently minded. Any man elected to command the Governor’s barge would have to have been a well respected and competent mariner. Drustina had already noted the man’s skills the previous day. Having been shown where the sacked captain lived, she made haste to his door.
A tearful woman answered it.
“Who are you?” She asked fitfully between sobs.
“I am Drustina, Lioness of Carthage and Queen of Egypt.” She left out ‘Great crocodile of the Nile’ it was not a title that rolled majestically off any tongue.
The woman’s jaw sagged with surprise and she stood frozen with shock. Drustina decided to press her suit.
“Might I respectfully speak with your husband?”
“Why — oh! Yes! By all means, I’m sorry; what was I thinking of. Your majesty! I’m sorry!”
The woman had finally recovered enough of her wits to realise who she was speaking to. She had seen Drustina at the festival only the previous day and she remembered the adoring crowds. She struggled momentarily to free the door chain and finally opened the door to invite her in. Drustina found the Ex barge captain staring remorsefully into a goblet of wine. She smiled for her light footfall had not declared her arrival and the captain continued blissfully staring into the wine.
“Penny for your thoughts Captain.”
“Huh! They’re now worth much now,” he replied without turning for he had not recognised the voice.
“Then twenty gold pieces for your knowledge instead!”
“Huh! Wha ---?” He turned to wonder who the stranger was.
“I said twenty gold pieces for you knowledge, your knowledge of the archipelagos from Rhodes to the Hellespont and even Constantinople if you wish!”
The man shot to his feet as he finally recognised his august visitor.
“Oh my God! Your majesty! I’m sorry, I ... I didn’t realise ... I —“.
“Let’s not get bogged down in formalities. I’m in a hurry to leave. Are you able to come now?”
“For twenty gold pieces your majesty, I’ll leave yesterday.”
Drustina smiled knowingly.
“Good. Then come with me now. I don’t have much time. Bring just your clothes and bare essentials, oh; and any charts you might have ... your own or the imperial ones.”
The captain ginned, gave a whoop of delight and sprang to action. As he peppered his wife with instructions, he rifled through a camphor-wood chest to gather the pertinent charts. Within ten minutes the pair were striding down the hill to the harbour.
A few eyes widened with curiosity at the pair’s passing but nobody determined what was afoot. Drustina was technically stealing whatever local, navigational knowledge was held secret by the guild of Rhodian shipmasters before any of the barge-captain’s associates realised. Nobody thought to wonder what the man was carrying in his sea-bag for it looked like a bag of clothes.
The pair stepped easily aboard The Mermaid for she was no moored at the royal quay as an honoured guest. Once aboard, Drustina explained the situation.
“Are we all here?” She asked.
“No. Arina has gone ashore shopping.”
“Damn! Go and find her, all of you.”
Torvel, Fantu and the two Horam brothers quickly dispersed into the town while Drustina advised the Barge-master to go and hide under the spare sails in the forward cuddy. The barge-master understood the risks and immediately secreted himself out of sight.
For nearly an hour, Drustina fretted in the stern until she finally spotted Arina being escorted along the quay by Fantu. Then Torvel and the Horam boys appeared from around a warehouse and Drustina sagged with relief. Within five minutes, The Mermaid had broken away and was making all speed for the harbour mouth. It was only as she swept between the broken stumps of the Colossus that a commotion on the quay alerted her to the fact that the governor had been informed of the loss of his barge captain.
As they watched the commotion growing astern, the barge-captain turned and smiled to Drustina.
“He’ll be after me now. He may not want me as a captain of his barge but he’ll want to keep me as some sort of servile sycophant. I’m glad to be out of it. I hope this craft is as fast as the rumours say.”
“Just watch us,” Arina grinned as she and the rest of the crew moved as one to set all the sails.
Drustina simply stood in the sheets and watched with a practiced eye. She knew she could trust her crew so she turned to the barge-captain.
“I thought he sacked you!”
“He did,” the barge-master replied, “but he still thinks of me as a bonded servant once I’ve accepted his coin.”
“Did anybody witness him sack you?”
“Yes, he did it in front of the whole damned crew. Besides, he also handed me a formal letter.”
“Well, you’re a free man now. We’ll sort out your situation when we get to meet the emperor.”
“I hope so,” the barge-master replied as his eyes widened at the speed The Mermaid was now making before a favourable wind. “My God your majesty, they’ll never catch this!”
“Let’s hope you’re right captain, you’d better be.”
The barge-captain silently watched the creaming wake and marvelled.
Just another step on Drustina's journey to Constantinople where Drustina and her companions finally meet the emperor.
The Angry Mermaid 40.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 40.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
As the barge-captain watched the Mermaid’s wake Drustina slipped into the little bow cuddy and first changed into a more suitable outfit of short jerkin and britches. She then invited the captain to look at a couple of her precious Roman charts. The barge-captain’s eyes widened when Drustina opened them on the little table at the forefoot of the mast.
“Where did you get these?” He gasped.
“Oh it was a long way from here, from and old seaman who lives near the Pillars of Hercules.”
“But these are as good as or even better than our secret charts.” The captain studied them avidly.
“Secret charts. Why keep them secret? Does not your Island of Rhodos depend on trade? Would it not be better to share the information?”
The captain studied Drustina with puzzled eyes.
“If everybody had the charts how would the governors control the seas?”
It was Drustina’s turn to wag her head.
“Nobody controls the seas. Only the gods control the seas.”
“And what of taxes, taxes to protect the ports and the narrow straits?”
Drustina grinned.
“Your emperor didn’t do a very good job of protecting your ports and straits. I seem to remember this middle sea was infested with pirates but a little over a year ago.”
“Well ... yes,” the barge-captain was forced to agree, “but that’s the fault of the emperor and his governors.”
“Exactly,” Drustina pressed home her argument, “they spend the money of frippery and frivolities while real needs go unsupported.
So why pay the taxes if the money is wasted? Anyway, money can be raised by harbour dues. Charging ships to pass through open straits is theft.”
“Well that’s not how the emperor sees it. There is a large port at the entrance to the Hellespont and we will have to pay taxes when we enter the strait.”
“It might surprise you barge-master, but this ship is technically part of the royal assemblage belonging to Astos the king of Egypt. As the king’s wife and queen, I am one of the primary members of that assemblage though I yet choose to travel separately from it. My two infant children, the infant heirs to the Egyptian throne and their aunt, the king’s sister follow on in the main fleet. They enjoy the emperor’s protection and pay no dues to the emperor. You may consider this ship to be a government craft for all taxes and tithe purposes.”
“Well it doesn’t seem like it. You follow a strange life for one so high.”
“And it will get yet stranger still. My final destination is not Constantinople but Britannia, the island of my birth.”
“But if you are the mother of the king’s children then you are his queen and should remain in Egypt to reign alongside him.”
“We, the king and I, have agreed dear barge-master, that once I have paid my respects to the emperor and presented our children to him in homage, then our marriage is annulled by mutual agreement and I resume my quest to recover my homeland. The infants will reside with their father and be cared for by their aunt, the king’s sister.”
The barge-master wagged his head thoughtfully then finished softly.
“You are a strange person your majesty and a remarkable one.”
“If I am barge-master, then it is a life forced upon me. I did not choose to become this.”
Drustina gave a wry smile and carefully stored the charts. The midday sun had passed overhead and they shared bread with their companions as the faithful Mermaid sped ever northwards along the Troas coast. With an extra, competent pair of hands, the passage proved swift and easy. The Mermaid’s speed and manoeuvrability enabled her to pass through the archipelagos with ease and two days later in the afternoon the ship was ‘knocking at the door’ to The Hellespont.
The warden of the fortified city Madytus was not easily convinced that Drustina was the queen of Egypt for, like many others, he could not reconcile the simple but remarkable craft with the status of the captain. Nevertheless, he had letters from the Emperor advising him of the anticipated visit by Egyptian royalty coming to present the heirs to the throne to the emperor and do homage.
Eventually, the warden was convinced but it was to be the following morning before Drustina was free to leave her ship and visit the city. Once again, she found herself to be a compulsory guest of the warden. It irked her, but at least the warden was not of sufficiently high station to compel Drustina to attend. She did so out of courtesy and a real wish to see the town and its fortifications. When she discovered a huge trebuchet located in a yard recessed into the city wall and facing the entrance to the straits, she pulled rank and demanded a demonstration.
“Can it reach right across the straights then?” Drustina inquired.
The warden gave a tight smile but did not reveal the weapon’s capacity. He did though; give Drustina a demonstration and The Lioness of Carthage learned all she needed to know. It seemed the weapon could not hurl a weighty stone so far as to threaten the opposite shore of the strait but few would have learned that without a practical demonstration. Nevertheless the catapult flung a heavy rock far out into the straits. Drustina studied the huge sling intensely until she was sure she understood its fabrication and design. Someday, if she were to recover her homelands, she might have need of such a powerful weapon.
“Can you build me a small model of this?” She asked.
The warden frowned. Whilst the trebuchet was known to all siege engineers it was still a complex and difficult engine to build. The system for releasing the stones or other missiles at the maximum velocity and optimum angle was a difficult concept to perfect. Eventually, Drustina chose to work what feminine charms she had learned to ‘persuade’ the man. Nothing sexual but Drustina had long since learned that with men, it was not what they got but what they thought they were going to get!! The following day, the engineer of the castle took Drustina to a small workshop and showed Drustina a series of shaped wooden pieces.
They resembled some sort of three-dimensional jigsaw.
“And these are?” Drustina asked as she fingered the collection of strange carved wooden pieces.
The engineer smiled and fixed one piece to another as he explained.
“They look like nothing but a complex, child’s puzzle your majesty, but when this is assembled, it makes a perfect working model
for the table top. I’ll demonstrate.”
Drustina watched as his practiced fingers deftly continued assembling the pieces and soon he had a model standing as high as a man’s forearm, standing on the table. They carried it outside and he demonstrated. Drustina gasped with delight. It was a perfect working model.
“And this is for me!”
“It is my lady. The warden has authorised me to present it to you. I can make these models and also build the full sized weapon from memory. I have made dozens and they are positioned all along the Hellespont.
“So I could never run the gauntlet then.” Drustina grinned.
The engineer smiled.
“You could risk it and you could get lucky but I wouldn’t like to try it.”
They disassembled the model and the engineer placed the components into a leather bag to protect them.
“There my lady. Take care of them. This model will serve you well.”
Drustina offered her heartfelt thanks and returned to The Angry Mermaid where Arina expressed immediate interest in the bag.
“What’s in there then?”
“A catapult; a model of a trebuchet.”
“Oh. Who are you going to shoot?”
“Nobody, yet. But one day, one day if I ever get home.”
“Well we seem to be going further away from your home with every adventure cousin.”
Drustina sighed wistfully.
“I know cousin; I know and it pains me.”
“Will you ever see your homeland again?” Arina wondered aloud.
A tear lingered on Drustina’s cheek then she brusquely stowed the bag and model away in the fore-peak cuddy and recovered her composure.
“Not if we spend all day mooning over our ambitions and never acting on them. Come on, the wind is perfect and I have the carnet to pass the Hellespont. Let’s make sail for Pactia before nightfall. Is everybody aboard?”
The whole crew was tired of the small fortress town of Madytus and the thought of a night in a bigger city was attractive. Within minutes The Angry Mermaid was under way with a full set of sails. As they passed under the walls of the huge fort Drustina waved to the warden who waved back.
They reached the city port of Pactia just as they were hauling the defence chain into place for the night. Fortunately the warden of Madytus had already forewarned the governor of Pactia by semaphore signals and the port authority stopped pulling the chain across the harbour mouth as Mermaid hove into sight. There were grumbles from the chain operators at the brief lengthening of their hours but a sweet feminine smile and a ‘thank-you’ from Drustina served to smooth ruffled feathers. A gold coin to be shared amongst them also helped.
As The Angry Mermaid tied up, an emissary from the governor appeared on the quay with a request for the Egyptian Queen and her companions to attend at the Governor’s residence. Drustina complied and all the crew, except Taros, the younger of Horam’s two apprentice sons, attended.
“You’ll have the day off tomorrow Taros and there’s the whole city to enjoy.”
“I’d prefer it if we made haste for Constantinople.” Taros replied.
There was a murmur of agreement from the others and Drustina smiled happily. It seemed everybody deemed arrival at the capital city to be the whole raison-d’áªtre for the voyage. To Drustina it was but another step towards her goal but their mutual ambitions served each other well.
The night spent feasting in the local governor’s residence helped to ameliorate the days spent living of ship-board rations and everybody indulged themselves. It was a well-fed crew that rejoined their ship and settled under the canvas cover that Taros had erected in anticipation of their return. With full stomachs and a safe haven, they slept well. In the morning a low mist lay still upon the Propontis and a cool breeze blew softly from the west. Once again, Drustina made haste to benefit from the slight but favourable wind and as soon as the first sound of the harbour chain clanked eerily through the mist The Angry Mermaid was nosing anxiously between the harbour moles. As the ship ghosted out of the fog to approach the straining chain a voice called out.
“What ship?”
Drustina shouted back. “The Angry Mermaid, bound for Constantinople!”
“This mist is not likely to clear before mid morning. You will not see your way!”
Drustina turned to the barge-captain with a questioning look.
“Can you remember which direction it is to Constantinople?”
“Yes Ma-am just north of east but until the mist clears, nobody dare sail.”
Drustina, Torvel and Arina exchanged secretive knowing smiles. It was time to give these ‘middle-sea’ rock-dodgers a lesson in proper ocean navigation. The eastern seamen seemed to know little of spirit of the north who hid in special stones and always sought to capture Freya and her power over the beautiful colours of the northern skies.
As they watched in amazement while Arina navigated by the lode-stone, Drustina related the story of how Thor and Odin locked the wicked spirit up inside the stone and he could never escape to hurt Freya again.
As the mists thinned and then eventually cleared, the feint outline of Constantinople became visible and an air of excited expectations overtook the whole crew. The city was huge, bigger even than Alexandria or Carthage and Drustina studied it with keen concentration as she tried to pick out notable buildings. Her eyes kept coming back to a large construction where building was still going on and she turned to the barge-master.
“Any idea what that big building is barge-master? The new one they’re building over there.”
“Aye ma-am. That’s the new cathedral they’re dedicating to Saint Sophia.”
“It’s big.”
“Not as big as some of the buildings in Rome Ma-am. The coliseum exceeds it by several hundred cubits.”
“That’s the horse racing thing isn’t it?”
“Yes, though I’ve heard tell it’s fallen into disuse.”
“So now they build churches ... churches to a god who abhors women and subjugates them.”
The barge-master fell silent. The reputation of this strange queen who was a notorious warrior and reputed to be of dual nature was enough to cause the barge-master to keep his counsel. If she was, as the stories told, both a man and a woman then he felt he was on uncertain ground. What he was certain of was that she was a competent and sound captain and if the other stories were true, then she was a formidable leader. Already he had felt himself fall under her charismatic spell.
As they approached the huge city, a picket boat set out to meet them so they shortened sail and extended the normal courtesies. The barge-master was known to the picket boat captain and this doubly assured a good reception. By the time the Mermaid had tied up, an emissary from the emperor himself was waiting on the quay with a troop of the palace guard and several horses.
“Your majesty. The emperor himself sends his greetings and requests that you attend the palace immediately.”
Drustina exchanged surprised looks with her crew and wondered.
“It seems we are to be made welcome companions. They even have enough mounts for each of us.”
“Who is to guard the Mermaid Dru?” Arina asked.
“I will,” Torvel volunteered. “It’s about my turn.”
“No. I think it best that I do.” The barge-master interjected. “They know me here and they will respect my rank.”
Drustina have a brief concern about the barge-master’s loyalty and he frowned slightly before explaining.
“Ma-am you rescued me from the clutches of that idiot, the governor of Rhodes. I have every reason to respect your ship and protect it. Please trust me. I would count it an honour.”
Drustina exchanged a brief questioning glance with Torvel and they agreed to let the barge-master take the first watch. With security arrangements completed, they mounted the proffered horses and rode at a good trot to the Palace.
Drustina was surprised to be met at the very gates of the Palace by the emperor himself. She had expected a formal approach to the reception room and a brief wait before being presented to the emperor perhaps seated on a throne.
The man was quite old and beside him stood a young lady who Drustina presumed to be his daughter.
“Queen Drustina! This is wonderful. I am the emperor Leon and this is my daughter Irene.”
Drustina curtsied and replied. “Your Majesty. I am happy to be here.”
“Oh there’s no need to show me such deference, you might be a subject of mine by marriage to Astos but your earlier exploits put me on your list of admirers and that makes us pretty much equal for I too was once a common soldier. Come, let us dine and you can tell me all.”
Drustina was pleased to have received such a happy and open reception. She had heard that the Byzantine court could be a minefield of plots, assassinations and rumours. This man didn’t even carry sword or have his guard around him and try as she may, Drustina could not spot any guards in the immediate vicinity. The only guards she saw were the formal sentries attending the gates.
Her companions followed her into the Palace as the emperor enthused about Drustina’s exploits. As they took their seats at a table laid out for a feast, the Emperor turned to Drustina.
“I will respect your dignity and not request that you present the usual form of identification. Your good sister Aiofe sent me a
splendid picture of you and I am amazed at the likeness. Truly, your older sister, the Queen of Carthage is a very gifted artist. Now please, might I beg that you entertain us after the meal with first-hand accounts of your exploits?”
“But your majesty; where would I begin?”
“Well I would think it best if your tell of your adventures since entering the middle sea for it is from here onwards that your actions have affected all who live on its shores. From the time you first encountered the Pirates and helped King Appotel to rid
his kingdom of their scourge.”
Drustina rolled her eyes.
“How many nights will we be eating sire? Much has happened since then.”
“Then just give us the briefest of outlines. Taking away all the hype and the exaggerations that have followed you and your adventures.”
Drustina shrugged apologetically as she broke of a piece of bread.
“I’ll try sire. I’ve probably forgotten much.”
“Do not worry. I have scribes ready to record everything you say. Perhaps it’s best if I or my daughter prompts you occasionally and you can correct any misunderstandings. I know that much ballyhoo was told about my earlier campaigns.”
“Yes,” Drustina concurred. “I read that you have fought much with the Bulgars to bring peace to Byzantium.”
“That bit is true but I never walked across the Donau like our Lord in Galilee. The bloody river was frozen but beginning to melt. I crossed with ease with my smaller, lighter forces but the army pursuing me fell through the melting ice.”
“Yes,”! Drustina smiled, “that’s exactly how things get exaggerated.”
Drustina was beginning to like Leon. The old man was a ‘down-to-earth’ soldier who told it as it was. His daughter Irene sat beside him while Drustina sat opposite and they soon formed a common rapport. Occasionally, Arina and Torvel were able to add bits that Drustina had long forgotten then the facts were reinforced and Leon found the evening one of the most enjoyable he had ever spent around a dinner table. His daughter Irene also proved to be a perfect hostess as she complemented her father’s gruff soldierly ways. It was obvious to Drustina that Leon was devoted to his daughter Irene and as the evening wore on Drustina was emboldened enough to ask where Leon’s son was.
“The damned Ague took him this last winter. It’s left me and Byzantium with the Devil’s own task.”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully. The days of Byzantine emperors being elected by a senate had long gone. The position had degenerated to a hereditary process and there was usually only a change of dynasty by assassination, force of arms or a fortuitous marriage. Drustina knew that Leon was a solid, powerful man but he could not live forever. If his line was to live on, it would have to be through his daughter and that brought dozens of undesirable suitors to the palace doors every week. Drustina looked at Irene and re-noted that the girl was attractive. The trail of hopefuls looking to gain her hand and the imperial throne would contain dozen’s of wholly unsuitable characters. Drustina’s arrival as a warrior queen would have surely been a relief for Leon. There would have been no matrimonial issues to address; no unsuitable suitors to be sent away with a flea in their ear. Drustina was now realising why the evening was so enjoyable. Leon was wholly at ease and so was his beautiful daughter.
After several hours of enjoyable discourse, it was time to prepare for bed. Drustina and her party were shown their apartments and she prepared gratefully to sleep.
Shortly after she had snuffed out her candles and savoured the comfort of a soft bed, there was a soft creak. Ever alert to danger in a strange place, Drustina quietly slid her trusty Toledo blade out from under the sheet and slowly eased herself away from the sound. The creak hadn’t been the main door but from somewhere near the turret that served as an en-suite wash chamber.
Silently, Drustina eased herself to the other side of the bed and slowly slipped out from under the sheet as she crouched down beside the bed with her sword in front of her ready to wound anything that came at her with force or meaning.
A shadow dark shape appeared against the faint starlight escaping from the en-suite doorway where the door had been left inadvertently ajar when Drustina had completed washing. It was all Drustina needed for her eyes were already accustomed to the darkness and she was crouching down in the deep shadow between the bed and the wall. She waited for the shadow to make it’s sudden move but instead it moved hesitantly towards the bed carefully feeling as it approached. The hands gently touched the bed then started feeling around for an occupant. They found none and the shadow let out a soft muttered curse.
“Dammit! Where is she?” The shadow asked itself.
“Right here.” Came the reply from the invisible source as a razor sharp sword point gently pricked the intruder’s chest.
The shadow let out a feminine squeak of fear and pain as it froze in terror.
“Who is it?” Drustina demanded.
“It is I, Irene, the emperor’s daughter.”
“And why do you come sneaking into my chamber in the dead of night?”
“I wanted to speak to you.”
“Then why did you not just enter by the main door? The guard would have let you in ... and talking of entering, just how did you enter?”
Irene hesitated and Drustina felt her trying to back away from the sword point.
“Don’t move girl! I can see you plainly silhouetted against the window and I can throw a knife as accurately as I point a sword.”
“I-, I’m not armed.”
“I will determine that for myself. Step back from the bed but remain in the light of the window.”
Drustina watched Irene’s shadow follow her instructions to the letter then she reached to the bedside shelf and felt for the fire making kit. She deftly struck her pyrites rock with her flint and a thick bright spark immediately lit the oil-soaked wick of the main bedside lamp. The candles were on the other side of the bed but Drustina needed light before she moved out of position and cast Irene in shadow. She had to keep the girl silhouetted until she had light. The lamp immediately cast a flickering light all over the room and for a moment, both girls were dazzled for they both had night sight sensitive to the almost pitch darkness.
Drustina recovered first for she knew to look past the light and not let her eyes be drawn to it. In three quick steps she was beside Irene with her dagger at her throat.
“Now lady, what errand brings an emperor’s daughter to my bedroom at the dead of night by what must be a secret passage?”
“This place is full of secret passages.” Irene replied.
“I’m sure it is my lady, and I’m sure you know where every one of them is but you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t have to account for my movements.”
“You do to me and this sword lady. I could still run you through and claim it was dark and I thought you were an assassin. Now, your answer please.”
A chapter where events precipitate Drustina into yet another war. She also acts as a close advisor and companion to support the emporer's daughter Irene in her succession to the Imperial throne.
The Angry Mermaid 41
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 41.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
The Imperial Palace of Byzantium.
The Angry Mermaid Chapter 41.
Irene swallowed nervously. As the emperor’s daughter she had never ever faced a real threat and her eyes moistened with tearful fear. Drustina was too ‘hard bitten’ to let herself be affected by girl’s tears real or fake.
“Don’t try the weepy ploy with me lady. I’m a woman myself and I recognise such tricks.”
“But are you a woman? My father says”-
“Never mind what your father says. Answer my question. What brings you here at the dead of night?”
To reinforce her seriousness, Drustina twitched the point of her dagger and a tiny speck of blood appeared on Irene’s throat.
“Ooouuch!”
“Your answer please!”
“Put the dagger down and I’ll tell you!”
“Your answer first!” Drustina replied. “This is your last warning!”
Irene realised she was at the mercy of somebody over whom she had no control. This was not a servile palace servant or some stupid guard to be turned by a pretty face. This was something else entirely. As she felt Drustina’s body tense as though preparing to administer the final coup-de-gras, Irene’s nerve finally broke She realised she was not in control.
“My God woman you’re a dangerous one!”
“And I’m still alive because of it. Women like me don’t survive by luck. Now, your answer.”
“Well, - that’s the reason. I wanted your advice because you’re a survivor. How have you managed to live so long with all the danger in your life? How have you managed to avoid the marriage trap? I would like your advice.”
“So why come at the dead of night? You would need more than a few hours by candle light to learn how to avoid the marriage trap my lady. Why do you wish to avoid marriage? And, by the way, I didn’t ‘avoid the marriage trap’ as you put it. I’m still married to King Astos until his sister Amitor arrives with the annulment contract for your father to finalise.”
“I don’t want to avoid marriage, I just want the man I marry to love me. At the moment I’m simply a pawn in my father’s plans now that my brother is dead. How have you managed to be so free? Even now you are having your marriage to King Astos revoked, annulled. How did you manage to arrange that?”
“King Astos is not in thrall to Christian Bishops and their misogyny. The Coptic Christians are much more tolerant of women. Astos and I had a clear and firm agreement. I give him an heir and then we agree to separate. That was the deal and both sides stuck to it. The price of my separation has not been easy or cheap. I have had to give up my babies to his sister’s care ... forever. My son is heir to the Pharoic throne. When I leave here for my homeland I will probably never see my children again.”
Drustina continued and Irene began to sense the bitter regrets in Drustina’s demeanour as she added...
“It is not possible to live entirely by the sword Irene, even for a warrior queen. There are times when other methods must be employed to get one’s way. Diplomacy, subterfuge, flattery, and yes ... sex!”
“So you have prostituted yourself.” Irene gasped.
Drustina shrugged.
“I suppose you could call it that. Isn’t all marriage a form of prostitution? Doesn’t every woman who wishes to ‘keep her good name’ sell her love and her body to a man in exchange for security and children?”
“That’s a cynical view.”
Drustina gave Irene an ‘old’ look followed by an ironic smile.
“It’s my view. Call me a cynic then! So, do you want a cynic’s advice?”
“I want your advice here, in private, where bishops and courtiers can’t interrupt or interfere. I need sound arguments to convince my father that I need a man who will love me. I don’t give a damn about being an empress or queen or ruler, provided the man I marry can make and keep me happy.”
“Have you anybody in mind?” Drustina asked bluntly.
“Frankly, no. All the wankers who come knocking on my father’s door are opportunists and fortune hunters.”
“But your father recognises this. He has told me as much.”
“So where am I to find the right man? Time is pressing. Since my brother died of an ague because he got wet crossing the Donna fighting the Bulgars, my father has had to take up his sword once more.”
“Ah. I see. And he needs a viceroy to rule in his stead while he is away on campaign.”
“I don’t want him to go. He is old and tired. He might not survive another war. The Donna marshes and estuaries are foetid places, full of disease and death.”
“Then lead your father’s armies yourself.”
Irene snorted contemptuously.
“Don’t be stupid! What do I know of soldiering?”
“What did I when I escaped from the Vikings? I was a young boy with two sisters to worry about.”
Irene fell silent.
“I couldn’t persuade my father to let me go.”
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Of course I can ride a horse!”
“No. I mean like a man, bestride the saddle and travelling all day.”
Irene hesitated. As a girl she had ridden with her brother and galloped free with legs bestride the saddle but now, as a lady ... well modesty dictated. She answered more boldly than she felt.
“I can ride bestride the horse and all day if necessary.”
“Then you can campaign. Your good generals will advise you and your father knows which ones are the good generals.”
“He still won’t let me go.”
Drustina fell silent. It was not her concern. She had paid her respects to the emperor and she was simply waiting now. Staying on at the palace until Amitor arrived and the annulment process could be completed. She asked Irene to return to her own chambers but the girl refused on the flimsy basis that the Palace could be a dangerous place for single young maids to be wandering about.
“You can return via your secret passage, the way you came.” Drustina argued.
“I’d prefer to stay here, with you. It must be nice to share a bed.”
“What d’you mean. There’ll be no hanky-panky here Miss. I’m not going to break any rules of etiquette or good manners or hospitality by being found abed with the emperor’s daughter.”
Irene sighed impatiently.
“I didn’t mean it like that! My mother died having me. I’ve never known a soft cuddle all my life.”
“What about your wet-nurse?”
“Just a tit with milk, then the mistress of the nursery put me to bed, alone, every night. I’ve never slept with anybody all my life. I’m the emperor’s daughter you see,” she finished with the irony dripping like acid from her tongue.”
“Drustina knew what that felt like for her own mother had died having Mabina and her. Though she and Mabina had shared beds together - both their own as young twins and their older sister’s beds. When the storms blew across her beloved Lleyn and the waves crashed on the nearby shores or the thunder rolled, it had been an immense comfort for both the young twins to sneak into Aiofe or Tara’s bed to hide from the tempests.
Sometimes their grandmother Giana had turfed Grandpa Erin out of their bed and invited the twins into her huge bed to comfort them when their sisters were away on the boats.
‘Yes,’ Drustina reflected, ‘it was nice to share a bed sometimes.’
She released Irene from her grip and returned to her bed whilst still ensuring both dagger and sword where to hand on her side of the bed. Then she patted the sheets and smiled.
“Come on then. You may share my bed, but not my body.”
“Can we cuddle?” Irene whispered hopefully.
“Yes, that and no more. Get undressed now so that I may check you have no concealed weapons.”
Irene protested angrily.
“Did you think I came here to murder you?”
“I don’t know what to think. I know that the Palace at Constantinople has a world-wide reputation for intrigue, violence and murder. Why d’you think I have my weapons to hand? I’m not entirely convinced by your tale but I’m prepared to give you the benefit of my doubts. I’ll still keep my weapons to hand though if you don’t mind.”
Irene shrugged and started to undress. Drustina couldn’t resist studying the view and Irene frowned.
“What are you looking at?”
“A remarkably beautiful woman, you’d better keep your night shift on.”
“What!” Irene almost shrieked as she realised Drustina’s meaning. “But you’re a gi-!”
“With a cock!” Drustina finished for her. “Stuff happens; keep your shift and pants on!”
Irene muttered a soft curse of surprise.
“Dammit. I completely forgot about that. I mean ... yes, you’re tall and seemingly well toned but you’re a girl, to look at anyway ... and the way you behave and stuff.”
“It’s not something I forget. Now if you want to cuddle, that’s alright by me but nothing else; right!”
Irene hesitated, shivered with the night chill, then literally took the plunge. She burrowed under the blanket that Drustina had left crumpled up at the bottom of the bed and pulled it up as she cautiously pressed her leg against Drustina’s. The difference was immediately obvious. Irene’s shapely leg felt soft and curvy throughout while Drustina’s, though well defined, had a layer of hard toned muscle under the subcutaneous girly fat. Drustina commented upon it immediately.
“You’re hard — under that soft girly skin; hard like my brother was.”
“I keep active and I train for sword-play every day. That’s another reason men don’t mess with me! My sword is fast and accurate.”
“Is that your whole life then, wars and battles?”
“No. It’s just a means to an end. Look, I’m tired and I want to sleep; perhaps in the morning.”
Irene was mildly disappointed but she fell silent and savoured the novelty of being able to cuddle up to somebody for the first time in her life. Then she felt Drustina turn to face her.
“What ‘you doing?”
“I’m going to spoon up to you. Turn over and face the door.”
Irene had heard the expression to ‘spoon together’ but she’d never experienced it or any other sort of intimate cuddle. Nervously she rolled over and presented her back to Drustina who slid against her butt and paralleled her legs to hers. As her hand came over Irene’s waist and rested on the maid’s breast, Irene shuddered with delight. Never had she ever felt so secure and so loved but she was deluded. There was no love for Irene in Drustina’s heart. Affection... yes, concern... yes, sympathy ... yes but no love Drustina was so immersed in her need to return to her beloved homeland and recover what she felt was rightfully hers from the thieving Norsemen, she no longer had the emotional wherewithal or spare capacity to divert her attentions to mere relationships..
Thus they slept until the first intimations of dawn alerted Drustina to the perils of being found with the emperor’s daughter in her bed. She gently woke Irene and despatched her back through the secret passages to her own chambers. Nobody was ever the wiser and Irene secretly savoured that precious night for several months before her wishes were finally met.
It was another week before the main royal convoy finally arrived from Alexandria; a week that spoke volumes for the speed and sea-worthiness of the Mermaid. Several times Emperor Leon commented on the seeming delay of the main convoy and once he expressed fears of disaster having befallen the fleet. Eventually it arrived after having been delayed by adverse winds.
The fleet arrived in mid morning and the Palace was finally able to complete the reception arrangements. Drustina stood with Irene beside her father as Amitor’s ship finally docked. Once the formalities were over, Drustina was free to indulge in an emotional reunion with her sister-in-law and her two infant children. Irene was enchanted with the babies and simply refused to leave Drustina’s side while the babies unknowingly savoured the last days of contact with their real mother. Amitor was scheduled to return to Egypt within a week with her new husband Torvel, their own baby, and her nephew and niece.
It was all Drustina could do not to snatch her own children, smuggle them down to the Angry Mermaid and escape up the Bosporus to find her own way home by the same route Eric and Carl had come to the Middle Sea through the Black Sea. Sadly, she knew that at some stage they had to drag their ships through a place called the Pripet Marshes and that would take an army of men or at least a hundred of them to literally drag the Mermaid through the mud and slime, or if it was winter, across the icy slush. Drustina was stymied from kidnapping her own children unless she sailed back down the Hellespont (Dardanelles) and then she would have to run the gauntlet of the trebuchets or whatever other devices they had to prevent a ship’s passage. She would not endanger her babies and thus was she destined to lose her children forever or foreswear her vow to recover her homelands. Then she would have to return to Egypt and continue a loveless, asexual marriage. Tearfully she found the former choice thrust upon her and she sneaked away to shed copious tears in her chamber. She was only discovered by Irene some hours later when she failed to turn up for the feast set in Amitor’s honour. Reluctantly she slid out of her bed and went to join the festivities without even bothering to change her clothes.
Her tear stained countenance and sour mood warned everybody to stay well away. Drustina was in little mood for festivities. She left to return to her bed before the dancing and floor shows began.
“What’s wrong with her?” Torvel asked the emperor.
“Who knows lad,” the emperor replied, “women are devilishly moody and unpredictable creatures.”
Drustina slept alone and woke late the following day feeling emotionally drained. She mixed little during the remainder of Amitor’s visit for every sighting of her children twisted the knife that little bit deeper.
To add further to Drustina’s depressed mood, news arrived that Emperor Leon’s armies had suffered another serious setback fighting the Bulgars on the Dona delta. The stress and worry began to tell on Leon’s health. Already an elderly man he was not looking forward to having to rejoin his army and try and mitigate the damage. The stress of preparations and worry about the consequences of his military disappointments eventually overtook Leon’s failing health and he had a heart attack.
Irene, his daughter, was distraught with worry but the healers were able to reassure her that although her father was not fit to go campaigning there was little other danger to his health. Irene turned to the only true warrior with any real experience of successfully leading an army, namely the Warrior Queen, Drustina.
Two nights after her father had the attack, she once again visited Drustina in her bed. They chatted at length as Irene laid her cards on the table.
“You’re the only one with any experience of successful command at the top level.”
“Will your Byzantine Christian men, accept orders from a woman? Methinks not,” Drustina protested, “their Christian misogyny makes them bigoted and dismissive of women. It would take me months to win their trust and confidence, enough that is, to follow me into battle.”
“My father says, so long as our army can remain on Bulgarian soil we can hold the ring and secure our northern borders.”
“Tactically that may be true but it’s a feeble long term strategy.” Drustina wagged her head. She wished there was an ‘Aiofe’ to plan strategy and prepare for the long haul ... the full campaign.
Irene implored Drustina to offer her services to her father who was now desperately casting about for a competent general to take his stead.
“I’m not sure he’ll accept any offers I make. He’s almost as misogynistic as his generals. This Christianity thing is a curse for womankind! We are treated like chattels! Well — if we let them, that is.”
Irene studied Drustina thoughtfully then asked nervously.
“How did you surmount misogyny?”
“I started out a boy Irene ... and a crazy one at that. Anger drove my madness and that drove my recklessness. I think many people were rather afraid of the violent, reckless, feckless warrior. I was very young and I had nothing to lose. My ambitions were simple and achievable, at least for a boy well versed in the sea. All I had to do was get my oldest sister to Carthage and get her wedded to the man she loved.”
“So what led you to greater ambition ... and how did becoming a woman affect that ambition?”
“Life, luck, accident, fate, I don’t know; it just happened.” Drustina answered simply. “I became a woman and ... well, a woman needs a home ... mine is Lleyn.”
“Lleyn?” Irene queried softly and failing to get her tongue around the harsh Celtic ‘Ll’.
“It’s a long story Irene, and it gets no easier with the memory. I’ll return to Lleyn or die.”
“Well if your ambition is to return to ‘Leen’, can you not assist your own progress by joining with my father’s army on the River Dona? If you are successful in defeating the Bulgars then you might make your way home by the same route the Russ use to trade from the north.”
“That’s a tall order Irene. I’m tied to my beloved ship, the Angry Mermaid. Wherever she goes, I go. If I am to copy the Russ and go home by the northern route, it will need an army of men to haul The Mermaid across the Pripet marshes.”
“If you help to defeat the Bulgars, there are Saxons and Norsemen In my father’s army who would tear off your arm for the chance to return home. They have been blocked from returning by the Bulgarian wars. They would willingly help you haul your little boat. That’s how they got here originally.”
“Norsemen!” Drustina’s eyes glittered with hatred. “But they are cruel brutal thugs. Wherever I meet with Norsemen, I strive to destroy them.”
Irene wagged her head sympathetically and explained her view.
“Not all Norsemen are cruel and brutish Dru. Some have settled amongst us to trade and intermarry.” Irene tried to argue but Drustina was implacable in her hatred.
“They did that at first around the Celtic Sea then, when they’d spied out our weaknesses, they attacked. We were neither prepared nor united. They are thieves and murderers.”
“We are prepared and united though.” Irene countered. “You have seen how powerful and strongly constructed the Royal palace is. The walls of Constantinople are impregnable and we are safe behind them.”
Drustina was forced to concede, she had never seen such powerful walls and fortifications. Even the grand fortresses of Valletta were nothing by comparison. Her own small wooden village and the undefended Celtic towns had been defenceless by comparison. If she ever returned to her homeland she swore to raise a castle every bit as imposing and fearsome as Constantinople. She then explained her take on the Vikings.
“Those Constantine walls are the main reason the Vikings have never been able to pose a threat, that and the vast overland distances they would have to travel in great numbers. That’s why you are safe from the Norsemen; they prefer to travel by sea rather than land. They don’t much like marching overland but despite this, I can promise you, they are far more fearsome brutes than the Bulgars.”
They chatted quietly and at further length about somehow defeating the Bulgars until sleep overtook them. The next morning the maids discovered them embraced but nothing was done or said. Emperor Leon was so disabled and weakened by his heart attack that Irene had become the de-facto head of state. Irene was also further strengthened in her resolve to find herself a suitable husband because she felt she had an ally and a champion in Drustina... a champion for her queenly rights and the right to choose her own husband.
A few days later, Amitor departed. She had to return to Egypt whence she’d come. Drustina shed copious tears as she bid her infant children a permanent goodbye. To add to her hurt and loneliness, Torvel returned to Egypt with Amitor as husband and wife.
From that day there would be a hole forever in Drustina’s soul ... a hole lined with stone and forever embittered. For this time Drustina knew she alone was guilty. She had let her male ambitions to recover her homeland surmount her female need to hold on to her children. The emotional dichotomy was a brutal and destructive torment. Now only Arina was left of the brave little band that had left the shores of Britannia all those seemingly many years ago though in fact it was but a few years. Drustina had only just entered her third decade.
To add further to Drustina’s burdens, the emperor Leon died unexpectedly and Irene was catapulted into a disputed position of ‘Head of state’. Both Irene and Drustina knew that there would be constant attempts by powerful generals and clan leaders to somehow deprive Irene of her rightful inheritance either by disposing of her or forcibly marrying her. Never were the lessons in statesmanship and diplomacy that Drustina had learned from Queen Meronee, better employed or harder worked than during those early months of Irene’s reign. Irene’s perilous circumstance was further aggravated by the deteriorating situation to the north on the River Dona. Things came to a head when a report arrived in midwinter telling of a final catastrophic defeat for the Byzantine forces. The Bulgarian hordes where marching south along the western shores of the Black Sea. Irene was devastated by the news but seemed paralyzed to act. If she met the Bulgars in one more battle and suffered defeat, the road to Constantinople would be wide open to an unopposed attack. One evening as she became mesmerised by further reports of the worsening situation, Drustina happened upon her pacing in the great throne room muttering to herself.
“Is it more bad news Empress?”
Irene looked up and wagged her head.
“I’m not empress yet. I have yet to be crowned but I have to address all the problems and responsibilities of empire.”
“You’ve got my sympathy. I take it things are getting worse.”
Irene’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion and she handed Drustina the report. Drustina scanned it quickly, taking in the salient points.
“You are going to have to meet them in battle. It’s the only way they can be stopped.”
Irene stared at Drustina.
“Where and how?”
“Later, rather than sooner,” Drustina replied somewhat to Irene’s surprise.
“What d’you mean later?” They’re marching as we speak!”
Drustina nodded sagely then smiled her reassurance.
“Yes, and the further they march, the longer become their lines of communication and supply.”
It was the first time Irene had heard Drustina talk at all about the war in a strategic or tactical sense. She squinted thoughtfully as Drustina’s reply slowly sank in.
“Go on. Explain. This is the first time I’ve heard you give your own opinions. Now I come to think of it, all you ever seemed to do was listen and nod. You let my father bounce his thoughts and ideas off you.”
“Your father was an excellent soldier in his own right. He needed no counsel from me. You on the other hand seem to find a different strategy with every general you meet.”
Irene’s eyes narrowed even tighter as the worry wrinkles turned slowly to a nervous smile of relief.
“You’ve been listening a lot, haven’t you?”
Drustina returned the smile.
“Grandpa Erin always taught me. Listen before you think and think before you speak.”
“So speak; you’ve been listening for several months now, and if you’ve been thinking ... which I’m sure you have ... it’s now time for you to speak.”
Drustina giggled. “I’m not some sort of oracle you know.”
“No. And I haven’t thrown any sort of offerings into your mouth. So what are your thoughts?”
“Right,” Drustina sighed softly, “consider this Bulgar army. They’re mainly from the Dona delta. That’s flat, marshy land so they’ll be people used to fighting on flat muddy land and they’ll be people used to handling river boats because the River Dona is their very life-blood. Those are their strengths. Now, what are their weaknesses?”
Irene shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Oh come on Irene. Think girl; exercise that brain I know you’ve got.”
Irene drew a long nervous breath.
“Wee-eell. They’re made up of assorted tribes and they don’t all speak the same language.
“Good,” Drustina observed, “that’s a start. Now come on. Keep thinking.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” Irene cried a little with frustration, “I don’t know enough about military stuff to even spot their weaknesses.”
Drustina waited for a short while until the silence became oppressive.
“Did not your father say that they have a poor command structure? They don’t have a regular standing army and they have to return to their fields twice a year to prepare the land and then harvest the crops.”
“Well, yes, but they have thousands of troops to call upon whilst we have to maintain our borders all around the empire.”
“Yes; but the Bulgars are mainly untrained men, mostly farmers who have to return twice a year to maintain their food stores. So; we hit them where they are weakest, we attack their food stores, their larders that see them through the winter. They are a long way from home so their communication lines become progressively longer and more vulnerable. We attack their granaries and communications. We did exactly the same in Carthage and it forced them to divide their forces and keep them divided while our supplies were safe in Malta and delivered when and where we needed them. Your army is well trained, very mobile and your food stores are well protected in the granaries inside Constantinople. You must learn, this is a campaign, not a battle.”
Irene was forced to concede at least that much. The food stores of the Byzantine Empire were very well protected and there was surplus enough for three years famine. The dreams of Joseph’s seven fat cows in the Christian Bible had been well heeded and every year the harvest surplus was added to the granaries until a three year supply was permanently available for imperial emergencies. It would take very little to convince the imperial council that the approach of the main Bulgarian army was just such an emergency.
“So what is your advice?” Irene pressed.
“We split our forces. Call in all your troops who are used to mountain fighting and gather them to face the Bulgars in the Istranca Mountains.”
“Why the Istranca Mountains? They can hardly be called mountains they are just hills and not very steep ones at that.” Irene wondered. “My brother and I used to hunt in them because the forests are very fertile and full of wild boar and bear, not to mention deer. It would be better if we could entice them into the great Rhodope Mountains, then our mountain troops could really show them how to fight.”
“And how can we entice them into those mountains when Constantinople is their obvious target? Going into the Rhodope Mountains takes them away from Constantinople.”
“Irene’s expression clouded over. The rugged Rhodope Mountains would have been an ideal place to tie up and wear down the greater Bulgar numbers but the mountains were too far west. If it was to be a mountain campaign it would have to be the Istranca Mountains which, coupled with the Rezovska River, would be the last place to make a plausible stand.”
“Will we be able to defeat them in the Istranca?” Irene asked.
“We don’t aim to defeat them, just delay their march on Constantinople until the spring when a lot of their men will have to return north to sow their crops. Besides they’ll already be splitting their forces because we’ll have a force attacking their granaries around the Dona while they are busy campaigning in the Istranca.”
“How will that force get past the Bulgar Army?” Irene challenged.
“It travels by sea and raids the coastal towns. The Bulgar ships are mainly river boats and not much suited to the winter storms of the Black sea. Have you not noticed that the Bulgars marched south? They did not come south by ship and ‘leap-frog’ past our over-extended armies. We must build a fleet of about ten or twenty ships similar to the Angry Mermaid but bigger and we don’t have much time. Might I suggest you start straight away?”
Once she had something positive to act upon, Irene immediately set about giving orders and making plans. She called in her admirals and explained the strategy that Drustina had described and the majority of the grizzled old seamen nodded thoughtfully.
At last the prevaricating maid was getting something done! They agreed amongst themselves. The added incentive was of course, the admirals had more ships to command.
Once the fleet expansion was started, Drustina’s next preparation was to rearrange, restructure and relocate the Byzantine imperial forces. Drustina explained the issues, particularly the logistical ones.
“We have to pull in your mountain troops from all the regions but especially from the east where they are hardened to the cold winters and very high mountains.”
“Mount Ararat.” Irene confirmed.
“The very place. It’s permanently covered in snow so the troops from those regions will be what I’m looking for.”
“What we are looking for,” Irene corrected her.
Drustina hesitated thoughtfully. Despite the seeming friendship that had grown up between them, Irene was still very conscious of her rank and status, namely empress elect. Drustina concluded it would pay to always pick her words thoughtfully and guard her thoughts even tighter. She nodded acquiescence to Irene’s sensitive response and resumed ‘advising’ the empress.
“So what do you plan to do with these mountain troops?” Irene pressed.
“Well, if your imperial highness agrees, I thought it would be wise to pick a location amongst the Istranca hills and fight a holding action while slowly retreating towards the borders of Constantinople itself. The many rivers will give us a series of defensible positions and we can control their advance so that when Spring is upon us they will have to release much of their force to commence planting the next year’s crop. Before those men are released to return north into Bulgaria and the Dona plains, we release our marine forces to attack as many of their settlements and destroy their granaries as far inland as possible.”
“We won’t be able to destroy all their granaries. Bulgaria is a big country and they grow a lot of grain.”
“I agree your majesty, (Drustina played up to Irene’s sense of rank,) but if we destroy enough of them, that will cause bread shortages which will cause the price of bread to rise and thus cause discontent throughout Bulgaria. It will also serve to give them pause for thought because they will not be able to return north quickly enough when reports of granary burnings begin to filter south.”
“You move too slowly Drustina. Can we not attack them with one overwhelming army?”
“No your majesty. We cannot raise an effective army without making our other borders too weak. Besides the strategy is to cause the Bulgars to become weary of war and sue for some sort of honourable peace. That way, your majesty might be able to garner a lasting peace with agreed borders.”
Irene found herself studying Drustina through newly opened eyes.
‘The girl was shrewd and wise’, Irene concluded and she wished she could somehow persuade the Celtic girl to remain as an advisor if they successfully stabilised the Bulgar situation and neutralised the Bulgarian ambitions. For the present however, it remained to adopt Drustina’s plan and Irene invited the generals her father had recommended to her before his final passing.
The generals had much experience and information to impart so Drustina listened in silence and pretty much unnoticed as each general gave his take on how to settle the Bulgarian question. Nearly all of them seemed to think a military campaign followed by a climactic, ‘once-and-for-all’ battle would settle the question. Drustina said nothing until a younger general called Zano, offered his opinions. They paralleled Drustina’s feelings closely and Drustina later suggested that Irene make this man her field commander.
“But Dru,” Irene used Drustina’s shortened ‘nickname’, “I was going to offer you that rank!” Irene declared.
“I’ll have to get the men to believe in me and we don’t have that much time. We have to meet the Bulgars in the Istranca hills and start the holding action. Remember it’s a case of make a stand and fall back to the next redoubt, usually another of the many rivers crossing the Tekirdag Plains.”
“Do we let them reach Constantinople?”
“Only as a last resort. I’m fairly sure spring will be upon us before they get so close and they will be forced to regroup their forces to allow sufficient men north to start planting.”
“So what will you be doing while general Zano fights these ‘holding actions’.”
“I’ll be working up and down the coast from Constantinople to Moldova seeking out Bulgarian granaries to destroy and generally wreaking havoc. More importantly, I’ll be out of touch from the main Byzantine forces and I’ll be on my own with only a small force. I’m putting myself at some considerable risk and I’ll only want a volunteer force. The men must be prepared to follow me to the bitter end if necessary.”
“Don’t go getting yourself killed now.” Irene cautioned her. “We can’t afford to lose you and besides, I don’t want to be the empress responsible for the death of the Carthaginia Lioness.”
Drustina smiled briefly.
“Do I detect a note of concern there?”
“Yes. Don’t make light of this Drustina, I can’t afford to lose you until I am firmly on the imperial throne.”
“I’m not making light Irene. If we lose this campaign, you can kiss your imperial throne goodbye anyway. I will have to fight and mean it. These raids won’t be simple hit and run affairs. We’ll probably have to strike long distances inland to have any effect on their grain stores.” You won’t hear of me or hear from me until at least the early summer. Now, goodnight, I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
The Bulgar wars.
The Angry Mermaid 42
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Supreme Commander of the Bulgar forces.
The Dona Delta.
Irene refused to go back to her Imperial bed-chamber; instead she pulled rank and slid into Drustina’s bed. Drustina resigned herself to Irene’s self indulgence but once again made sure there were no misunderstandings. Despite the severe temptations, (For Irene was an attractive maid,) Drustina was determined not to let sex or emotions complicate their friendship. The last thing Drustina needed was for emotions to impede her determination to return home and destroy the Norsemen who held the remains of her little Gangani Tribe in virtual bondage.
For the next month, Drustina threw herself into shipbuilding to distract her from any temptations that Irene’s affections may have put in her path. She slaved away feverishly supervising the construction of the additions to the Byzantine navy whilst frequently dropping by on general Zano as he simultaneously worked to create a plausible force of fast moving cavalry and an infantry force that could move quickly amongst the mountains.
Every day general Zano accepted more and more troops as they arrived after marching all the way from the mountainous eastern provinces. Then, each day, he drilled and trained them to work to a common command structure and system of simple, easily understood orders. Drustina also made herself known to them and made it abundantly clear to all the troops but particularly the smaller force that she would be leading on the granary burning forays, that she was a formidable commander in her own right. Additionally she was mildly surprised and secretly pleased that her reputation as ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ had preceded her. She also resumed her sword training and returned to daily combat exercises with the middle ranking and junior officers just to let them see that the title was well earned and much to be respected.
Empress Irene followed her friend’s progress and was also pleased to learn that the troops were beginning to accept the idea of having a female commander to lead them on forays deep into the Dona basin.
Eventually the new ships were completed to Drustina’s designs and the last weeks were spent familiarising the whole invasion force with shore landings and rapid forays into the hinterlands. It was in that last few weeks that Drustina finally won over the respect and affection of the ‘Marines’ who would form her guerrilla forces.
Then, one afternoon as she was testing out some new ideas and sweating away amongst the men and officers of a newly formed ‘Engineer brigade’, she was shocked and delighted to hear a familiar pair of voices. She looked up from the muddy pit where she was grovelling knee deep in the mud with some junior officers to gaze upon two beloved companions of old, Eric and Carl the Saxons.
Eric looked down and grinned.
“Well sister, you haven’t changed! Still deep in the thick of it.”
Drustina let out a feminine shriek of joy and scrambled through the mud up the bank of the pit and flung herself into Eric’s arms.
Eric grimaced as his smart outfit was suddenly smeared with stinking mud.
“My God girl, you’re filthy, what the hell are you doing?” Carl chuckled.
Drustina released Eric and then embraced Carl with equal affection as she explained they were testing out some bridge foundations that could be easily hewn and assembled from the plentiful forests in the Dona basin to provide efficient crossings of streams for rapid attack and withdrawal.
Drustina explained quickly then demanded to know why they were here.
“Why good god girl! Didn’t you know? We’re here with your sister Aiofe and your children by Torvel. They’re toddling now.
Aiofe has come to resume proper diplomatic relations between Carthage and the Byzantine court. Her majesty Queen Aiofe was shocked to learn you were still here. She thought you were long gone and heading north for Saxony and Britannia.”
“Oh, I’ve become embroiled in this Bulgar business and the Empress Irene needs help. Come let us repair immediately to the palace... my sister and children you say! Well my God! Who’d have thought? You know Arina is here don’t you; she’s out with her Nubian husband Fantu at present, reconnoitring the Kirki hills and the Istranca Mountains to formulate a strategy.”
Carl and Eric smiled as they wiped the filthy mud of their tunics. Drustina apologised then plunged into a pool to rinse off the stinking mud.
The junior Byzantine officers were somewhat shocked to see the casual way Drustina stripped to her skin in front of Eric and Carl as well as the whole troop of engineers then washed herself off without regard to her nudity before just as casually collecting a dry pair of britches and a cotton chemise. Finally, without any regard for her own semi nudity and bizarre duality, she leapt onto her dutiful horse Seripatese and bade her senior Engineer commander to accompany her and the Saxons back to the palace immediately.
Initially Drustina chatted animatedly with Eric and Carl as they caught up on all the news then Drustina went forward to talk to one of the accompanying cavalry officers.
Eric and Carl remained behind in the little column and chatted with the construction troop’s commander. They sensed the shock inherent in the Byzantine Engineer’s face as he gazed somewhat disapprovingly on Drustina’s skimpy attire. He turned to the Saxons and spoke in Latin.
“Is she always this bold about her nudity? Does she not fear unwanted attentions?”
Eric let out a dismissive guffaw as Carl explained.
“Have you seen her sword play Captain?”
“Uuhhm, no. I’m a construction engineer and I’ve only worked with her trying out these prefabricated timber bridges. I’ve heard that she works out every evening with some of the combat officers.”
“Then you’ve heard correctly Captain. Did you see that huge scar on her delicious arse?”
The captain crimsoned up for to admit having seen it would confirm he had been ‘looking’. He had to ‘confess’ that he had and Eric and Carl let out loud laughs that brought Drustina back from the two cavalry officers up front where she had been briefly discussing a defence strategy to protect a bridge if need be.
“What’s all the merriment?” She asked innocently.
“The captain here was admiring your scarred arse Dru?”
Drustina sniffed and peeled down the waistband of her skimpy cotton leggings. Then she stood in the saddle and exposed the angry scar completely as she turned to the Captain and grinned provocatively.
“You mean that Captain?”
The captain swallowed and made to apologise but Drustina dismissed it.
“Fear not Captain. When on Campaign I am as liberal with my privacy as any soldier but god help the man who mistakes that for an unwarranted invitation to abuse my body.”
To emphasise the reality of her threat, she whipped her dagger from the sheath on Seripatese’s saddle and flung it unerringly at a mileage marker post they happened to be passing. The blade struck exactly between the one and the zero and the knife thrummed with the force of its own impact. The captain got the message as he went to recover the knife and had to tug hard to extricate it from the post. He stared at Drustina thoughtfully as he handed back the deadly blade.
“Truly maid. You would make a deadly foe. Are you proficient in all martial skills?”
Carl answered for her as Drustina replaced her dagger.
“She is Captain and if you think that was good, wait until you see her with a bow.”
The captain grinned.
“I’ll remember to warn my lieutenants then. I heard several of them discussing her attractiveness and any potential for indulging their pleasures.”
Eric smiled but the warning he repeated carried a steely message.
“Oh yes Captain. You’d best warn them, for their own safety, you’d better warn them.”
The captain just caught Drustina’s sideways smile but he realised it carried no threat, just an amused condescension without any sign of fear. That told him more than any angry female outburst of offence might have conveyed.
‘The lady was not for tampering with! She could be dangerous; no. She was dangerous!’
The light-hearted mood quickly returned to the troop and they chatted at length while returning at an easy trot for the last ten miles.
At the palace Queen Aiofe spotted them from the walls where she was talking with Empress Irene and she let out a shriek of joy. Without even excusing herself from the empress’s company she flew down the ramparts, flung herself on the nearest available mount and galloped out to meet her beloved brother/sister. Nobody amongst the returning troop had seen a more affectionate or emotional re-union. Both Aiofe and Drustina gave vent to their emotions and tears flowed profusely. The captain looked askance at Carl and Eric as he noticed his own lieutenants shaking their heads uncomprehendingly, for during the experiments with the bridge foundations, Drustina had been ‘all man’ and as willing as any trooper to get stuck in and labour through the filthy mud to resolve any construction problems. Now, suddenly, she was all tearful maid and feminine emotions. Eric explained as best he could for even he could not fathom the whole depth of Drustina’s duality.
“She’s a man when she’s about her military work Captain, but she’s a woman when it comes to her emotions. Heed these words well Captain, and teach your lieutenants not to cross the dividing line.”
The whole troop, men and officers fell silent and stared, fascinated as the leader they had come to respect as a bold and fearless warrior, suddenly ‘descended’ into maidenly tears. Then they listened with shock as Drustina’s first question brought the full portent of her sexual duality to the fore.
“Where are my twins dear sister; where are the fruits of my womb?”
“They're in the palace sister, playing with their younger cousin, my son.”
Drustina let out a squeal of joy before commenting on Aiofe’s success at motherhood.
“Yes, I heard you had become a mother, Queen Meronee gave me your letters.”
“Oh good, then you’ll know that all is well now in our kingdom; peace and prosperity have returned at last.”
“With you and Magab at the helm, I never doubted it would. Come, let’s make haste, I will see my babies. ”
She turned to the bemused captain and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek before excusing herself from the column. Then she and Aiofe galloped together ahead of the troop and soon arrived at the palace. Once again, Drustina wept with motherly pride and delight when her eyes fell upon her twins. To her chagrin, the twins made for Aiofe as a natural consequence of their up-bringing but by the evening, Drustina was beginning to make some headway towards gaining the twins acceptance and confidence. In the nursery she indulged herself at length, playing with her toddler twins and savouring the pleasure of getting them to address her as ‘mummy’. To the twins, ‘mummy’ was almost a new word for her Sister Aiofe had been scrupulously correct and fair by always having the twins address her as ‘aunty’! The twins had never heard the word ‘mummy’ until Drustina now appeared in the nursery. Drustina was indebted to her sister’s thoughtfulness and kindness.
For a whole week Drustina removed herself from preparations for the forthcoming war as she slowly won back her twin’s love and affections. It was a heavenly interlude and brought Drustina much peace as she indulged her belated motherhood while Aiofe helped to ‘fine-tune’ the military strategy. Several times Irene and her admirals and generals had cause to be grateful for Aiofe’s shrewd wisdom.
Each night Irene took delight in visiting Drustina in the nursery where the warrior queen learned of motherly ways and motherly love. Irene’s eyes shone mistily as tears of joy glistened whenever she saw that Drustina had found some new trick or delight that brought gurgles of delight from her babies.
“You’ll make an excellent mother Dru. Even in this short time, they’ve grown to love you and smile at the sound of your voice already. I feel you will be taking them with you when you return to Leen.”
“It’s an option my lady, but I will not see them endangered. They must remain here until this Bulgarian war is over and peace at least brought to the Carpathian Mountains and the River Dona.”
“That tells me then that you’ll be returning here to collect them if we have our victory.”
“If it pleases your majesty, would you be so kind as to care for them?”
“Of course they may stay here. They are delightful children.”
The relief showed in Drustina’s eyes as she considered the next question.
“Will my sister be staying here to advise you of strategy while our guerrilla tactics are implemented?”
“She’s offered her services until the war is over and won. Besides, she can indulge herself with all the children.”
Drustina smiled with relief. With a brain like Aiofe’s behind the campaign, the prognosis was excellent. Additionally, a trustworthy sister would be there to care for the babies. Drustina could now resume preparing the army and navy without distractions.
It took a month to complete preparations and then Drustina had to wait while the Christian Byzantines celebrated the birth of their prophet. She was nominally a Christian but it was really a blind to hide her real beliefs. Drustina’s experiences with the Christian bishops had instilled in her a hatred of a belief that belittled women and declared everybody to be ‘born in original sin’ and thus deemed to be sinners before they even got the chance to be or do anything. The whole concept was to her, illogical, cruel and inoperable.
She did however indulge in the festivities for it would be her last chance to indulge before setting off on her guerrilla campaign. Besides it was a chance to give her twins presents and that seemed to her to be the main part of the celebrations. With midwinter now behind them, Drustina knew the time had finally come to start their campaign. The holding exercise in the Istranca Mountains was slowly upped into a series of minor battles designed to entice the Bulgars out of their winter strongholds and slowly draw them south and east towards Constantinople. At the same time Drustina struck hard at the coastal towns of Tsarevo, Burgas, Nesubur and Varna as they hammered the undefended townships from the sea. Within weeks, just as the Bulgar main force was preparing to cross the River Derest, the Bulgar generals received word of the sea-born attacks that were causing mayhem to the grain stores so vital to both the civilian population and to the primitive supply chain that was already being stretched to breaking point just to supply their army.
A hastily convened council of war concluded reluctantly that several divisions would have to be released from the main battle zone to march hastily north and reinforce the coastal garrisons. The division of their forces crippled the Bulgars’ campaign. Exactly as Drustina had predicted, General Zano found his Byzantine army facing a much depleted foe. That was the time to throw all the reserve Byzantine forces into the battle and finish the job once and for all. It worked and the Bulgars were finally trapped in a river valley with no escape. General Zano took the surrender and savoured the supreme pleasure of reporting the news to the Empress Irene in Person. Aiofe and most of the Byzantine court were present when the thick-set apish General Zano proudly presented the instrument of the Bulgar surrender. The Empress Irene thanked him profusely and showered the man with honours and estates to express the empire’s thanks.
It was Aiofe herself who later found the general sitting quietly by himself and out of sight from everybody as he secretly cried at his good fortune. The Queen of Carthage crept silently upon the man and laid a hand gently on his shoulder.
“Pisht thee brave soldier, why d’you cry?” She whispered.
General Zano span round about to curse the invader of his privacy when he recognised Aiofe. The curse died a sudden death in his throat as he crimsoned with embarrassed shame.
“My lady! Don’t creep about so. You shocked me!”
“So why d’you cry? You should be celebrating.”
“You wouldn’t understand my lady.”
“Try me. I was naught but a shipwright’s daughter before Drustina made her mark.”
“Were you!!?” He gasped. “What! Just a carpenter’s girl?”
“Nothing more. Short of being a beggar or a criminal you couldn’t hail from much more humble stock than mine.”
“My God! Then you’ll understand better than most. I was born from humble origins. I was born to a slave in the Hellespont and joined the army as little more than a drummer boy. I am just so overwhelmed with my good fortune and all because of a strange duelled being who even now should be here celebrating our success.”
“When she hears the news, she’ll be back, never fear. Once she is relieved of her obligations to Irene she will be striking north to reach our beloved homeland. She’s obsessed with defeating the Norsemen who stole our lands.”
As General Zano dried his joyful tears they chatted at length privately for it was the first time Aiofe had been able to sit in quiet privacy and sum up the victorious general. She liked what she found under the simian mantle that belied the sharp intellect within. Later she discussed the general with Irene.
“He’s not stupid Irene; don’t let that gorilla appearance deceive you.”
“I realise that Aiofe. His campaign in the Istranca hills was superb. All the older, noble generals are still talking about it.”
“It was my sister’s strategy though.”
“Yes, of course it was;” Irene agreed, “but no plan survives first contact and he must have been thinking on his feet all the time. The battle moved quickly as he measured out the supposed retreat towards Constantinople. Some of the surviving Bulgar generals, the nobles that is, have given grudging praise to the man despite his lowly birth. It only remains for that sister of yours to return.”
“Drustina will be here when she deems it safe and proper to do so.”
“So what of the Bulgars? We must have thousands of prisoners.” Irene asked hopefully. “There will be hundreds of new slaves.”
Aiofe’s jaw sagged. Before Drustina’s departure one of the last things she and her sister/brother had discussed was the issue of prisoners. Both sisters had agreed that any Bulgars taken prisoner were not to be taken into slavery unless they had proven to be particularly cruel in their own treatment of prisoners. The loss of their middle sister Tara and possibly all their brothers to the cruel Norsemen’s slaving trade had left a deep mark on both sisters. There was also Eric and Carl’s stories that had left their marks on the two sisters. Before the campaign had started, both Drustina and Aiofe had sounded out General Zano’s feelings. As the child of a slave who had himself struggled to escape those bonds, Zano also supported the Celtic sisters in their view that prisoners should return home provided they were deemed no threat. After the war, few prisoners had been taken into permanent captivity for most of the Bulgarian soldiers had been disarmed and left free to make their way home. Only a few, high-ranking commanders had been detained to agree terms and establish a lasting peace. One of them was Oraxyis the supreme Bulgarian commander.
Aiofe had already identified the man as a cruel, greedy thug who even in defeat, tried to dominate his fellow commanders. The more intelligent of the Bulgar generals realised that Empress Irene was offering generous terms but Oraxyis refused to countenance the offer on the table. The new border that Irene’s cartographers had offered to agree to was a reasonable line that was readily identifiable along rivers and watersheds. The boundary was also readily defensible and it left the Bulgars with generous fertile areas including the whole of the lower Dona basin. There was more than enough land to support their people.
The other commanders were content that Empress Irene and her primary advisors Queen Aiofe and General Zano had offered such generous terms and the general consensus was to agree.
Sadly, the overbearing Oraxyis was not content and the other commanders knew that if they returned home with him still at their head, despite it being a defeated army, he would take his revenge on them piecemeal. His was by far the largest tribe and it was the most powerful force amongst the Bulgars.
It was Queen Aiofe who sensed the root cause of the impasse and she discreetly mentioned it to General Zano after the first round of exhaustive negotiations. He agreed.
“I know my lady, and the Empress Irene is becoming impatient with him.”
Aiofe thought and then wondered aloud.
“Aren’t there any crimes we can pin against him; legitimately I hasten to add, so we can somehow send him into slavery or something? With him out of the way, the negotiations would be over in a day and everybody can go home.”
“I’ve already considered that,” Zano replied. “I’ve even put out feelers amongst the other commanders. If he was responsible
for any of the massacres we know of, he’s been very clever at keeping his hands clean. He’s a very slippery customer.”
“Yes. Shit rolls downhill, we’ll have to interrogate those other criminals more intensely. Maybe one of them will admit to having received orders from on high.”
“We’ll need to see written proof of that mi-lady.” Zano sighed. “If there’s one thing I learned from your younger sister, it’s that you must be scrupulously fair even when dealing with total monsters.”
“Yes. She learned those lessons from Queen Meronee. That Nubian is a good ruler.”
“I sometimes wish Drustina was here now,” The General sighed. “This brute Oraxyis thinks that the empress is a soft touch because she is a woman.”
Aiofe nodded thoughtfully then smiled.
“He has to negotiate with me and thee as well as the empress. You Zano are more than warrior enough to convince him he has a formidable foe; for God’s sake Zano, you’ve just smashed his armies in battle. He must respect you!”
“Yes, but your sister Drustina has got something else. I’ve watched her; yes the men will follow me and fight with me, they respect my generalship but Drustina, well, you know it; she’s got something else, something special. She’s a natural born leader, a natural born fighting queen. All the men worship her. If she was sat at the negotiating table, Oraxyis’s tune would soon change.”
“Well she won’t be back for a while.” Aiofe added ruefully. “The last report Irene had been that she was sorting out some minor teritorial dispute with some of the Russ tribes on the Bulgarian’s northern border. Apparently, according to the Bulgar commanders, while the Bulgars were fighting us, the Russ decided it would be a good time to try a little land-grabbing of their own. They’ve always coveted the Moldove’s lands but this present problem is complicated. I dunno’ that sister of mine gets herself into some strange situations.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll bring wisdom and fairness to bear. She’s the only authority around in the Dona basin at present and she’s got no personal axes to grind. The Russ, The Moldoves and the Bulgars will have to accept her impartial judgements, at least until they can sort out their own affairs. Apparently, this war and her harvest campaigns have left the Bulgars in total disarray. Has she asked for more troops to help maintain order until the Bulgars are settled/”
“Oh come now Zano; you know my little sister is wiser than that. She’s not asked for troops ... she’s asked for grain to feed the civilian populations.”
Zano smiled and wagged his head.
“Clever girl. She will make a great queen one day if she ever recovers that land called Leen.”
Aiofe was about to correct the general’s pronunciation of her homeland Lleyn in Cymru but they were interrupted by Irene. The both turned and bowed their heads even though, as a queen in her own right, Aiofe was not required to.
“Your majesty,” they offered in unison.
Irene waved her hand to curtail formalities.
“That blasted man!”
“Who, Oraxyis?” The pair chorused.
“Who else?” Irene snapped. “He’s just so intransigent. These negotiations will go on forever.”
“So we sit around the table tomorrow again.” General Zano sighed for he had been anticipating a hunting trip.
“I’m afraid so. I don’t trust the man. I can sense the fear amongst his own commanders from the other Bulgar tribes.”
“Dammit!” Zano cursed while Aiofe added her own discontented reply.
“We’ll be here till the next bloody summer at this rate.”
“Well tomorrow, it ends. If the man cannot agree to anything, I will force him to agree. The terms are generous enough. We cannot let this cancer continue to drain our resources.”
“I agree my lady but I see no secure, long-term solution until the beast is tamed. Whilst he is shackled here at this negotiating table we have him under control. He is nothing less than a rampaging beast amongst his own tribes. His is by far the biggest tribe.”
“Well that’s for the Bulgars to sort. The borders will be as we have offered and there’ll be no more time wasted on negotiations.”
With this decision finally concluded between the three, they retired to take dinner and then play with the children before taking to their beds. Irene felt herself tearing up as she watched Aiofe and Zano enjoying themselves as they indulged the children and Zano played ‘horsey’ with Drustina’s toddling daughter and son.
The next morning, the talks started badly and degenerated into little more than a shouting match between Oraxyis and general Zano who refused to see his empress shouted at or bullied. In the end, Oraxyis declared that he would not honour the agreement and at some later date there would be wars again for he claimed to be an honourable man and was not prepared to see land stolen.
He was shouting loudly about honour and theft when the door to the negotiating chamber opened so softly that nobody noticed at first. All eyes were fastened on Oraxyis who was bellowing his objections like a bull and loudly protesting his honour while standing to show off his massive bulk and thumping the table to demonstrate his strength.
“I will not see theft! The land is ours! Nobody has a right to steal another’s lands! I will not see another’s land stolen. Varna, and for that matter Burgas are Bulgar cities! Who would steal such land is a thief and a butcher for blood will always be spilt.”
The room went silent for a moment as all others sat stunned by the outburst. Drustina seized her opportunity and spoke softly.
“Oh; on that issue my dear Oraxyis I must heartily agree!”
“All heads, including Oraxyis’s, turned as one at the softly spoken words.”
“Who the hell are you woman!? God is the whole Byzantine Empire run by bloody women!?”
Drustina smiled but the steely glint in her eye betrayed her fortitude as she spoke levelly and without the slightest trace of fear or submission.
“At the moment dear Oraxyis you are almost right. Apart from General Zano, you are wholly right. By the way, for those who don’t know me, I am Drustina, Lioness of Carthage and Formerly queen of Egypt. I have other titles but Carthage will suffice for those of you who only seem to understand the sword.”
Irene and Aiofe were about to squeal with joy but Drustina put her mailed sword hand to her lips and motioned for silence.
“Pray silence sisters, let the man Oraxyis speak for he will answer my questions shortly.”
“What have I to answer to you for? I speak with queens and empresses here. By what rank do you have the right to question me.”
“My rank is not in question here butcher! I come as messenger, judge and if necessary, executioner.”
The towering bully sensed the threat and his hand slid menacingly to his sword. Empress Irene asked Drustina.
“What messages do you bring comrade?”
“They are not just messages my lady. They are witnesses. Witnesses to the most terrible massacres and thefts of lands to the north of the Bulgar tribes. Land grabs every bit as audacious and illegal as the attempted thefts to the south. This man Oraxyis is a thief and a bully and worst of all, a murderer! Thousands have died directly by his hand insofar as his thugs have murdered the citizens and stolen the lands.”
“Really,” Irene listened dutifully. “Please elaborate.”
“The beast attacked and occupied the Moldove tribe. They are sister Bulgars but a very small tribe. The man was really intent on expanding his fiefdom into the lands of the Russ. He murdered hundreds of Moldovan tribesmen then subjugated the remaining men and all the women into a brutal serfdom. Once he had totally subjugated that tribe, he turned his brutal attentions upon the Russ.”
“But the Russ are a powerful tribe in their own right,” General Zano observed, “they are well able to protect themselves.”
“Yes. If they have warning my comrade, but any tribe or nation can be caught with their trousers down if they have no anticipation of war or more importantly, if they have a treaty they were honouring, and the Russ had a fairly drawn treaty with the Moldovans. They were not expecting such a sudden and brutal attack. That was the cause of the troubles I discovered when I found myself the de-facto peace-keeper in the Bulgar lands and Dona basin after the defeat you wrought down here. This brute is a greedy, ruthless thug and there are many Moldovans and Russ who would see him executed for the most brutal crimes.”
She pointed directly at Oraxyis and the man became incensed with rage at her allegations. He was still standing but a couple of sword lengths away from the accusative woman and her charges caused him to lose all temper. With roar he screamed at the ‘bitch’ who had the temerity to accuse him and he kicked back his chair as he drew his sword. A sword that had been allowed to each Bulgar commander as nothing more than a courtesy by Empress Irene to let the defeated Bulgars have some semblance of dignity when they daily attended the negotiations.
Now even the courtesy of that favour had been abused and the majority of people seated at the table flung themselves for cover as the giant man flung himself at his accuser. Apart from Drustina, only Zano had the wit to lurch across his terrified Empress and put himself between her and the infuriated Oraxyis.
Drustina however, had already been forewarned of Oraxyis’ violent nature by the assorted Russ and Moldoven witnesses she had brought with her to Constantinople. Her sword flashed free even as Oraxyis’ chair crashed against the wall. By the time the giant was upon her, her sword was pointing directly into his throat and he pulled up short, frozen with fear. The beast had never seen a Toledo blade but more importantly, he had never seen one appear so quickly, seemingly from nowhere. Now he felt the razor sharp tip as it started to draw blood; his blood!
“Drop your sword, butcher!” Drustina spoke softly in a flat expressionless voice.
She made no further threat. That simple order had been enough for it was backed by the familiar, murderous, steely glint that should never have rested in a maiden’s eye. Despite his overbearing, bullying ways, Oraxyis was intelligent enough to realise he had met his match. The ‘Lioness of Carthage’ was obviously a title well earned. He dropped his sword and remained rigidly still as the Toledo point continued to pin him by his bleeding throat to his own cowardice. Drustina smiled evilly, it was as she had suspected. ‘The beast was at heart a coward and afraid to die’.
With Oraxyis thus disarmed, order was soon restored, for to have drawn a sword at a negotiating table and with unarmed women present had been the height of offence. Even his own generals fell upon him and secured him with chains that the guards had quickly delivered. In fact, the guards had been standing outside the door at Drustina’s instigation for she was pretty sure she knew what sort of monster Oraxyis was. She had seen the results of his handiwork in the occupied Moldovan homelands and the invaded Russ territories. It had sickened her. She also had a copy of the fair and proper treaty between the Russ and the Moldove’s that Oraxyis had treated with total contempt.
Once the beast was led away. Irene had a chance to question Drustina.
“My God lady. You pick a fine time to appear. So what of this business with the Moldoves and the Russ?”
Drustina smiled then sighed.
“I think it best if you speak to the injured parties themselves your Majesty. They will enlighten you much better than I.”
“Good God! Are they here?”
“Right next door milady. I invited them to accompany me, once I had restored some sort of order and fairness. Now if you’ll allow me to beg my most humblest of pardons your majesty, might I leave to see my children?”
“Empress Irene smiled then grinned.”
“Of course Drustina. You’ll always have that absolute right to take your leave of me without begging permission.”
This permission was a considerable honour and Drustina knew it. She bent forward, kissed Irene on the cheek and took her leave. It was only as Drustina laid her hands on Irene’s shoulders that the empress realised the warrior queen was still trembling. She stepped back to look at Drustina and realised the maid was a past master at hiding her fears. The assault by Oraxyis had been a fearsome thing to behold for the suddenness had almost paralyzed everybody in the room except for this strange, dual being Drustina and Irene’s own loyal general Zano.
“You’d best go now Dru,” Irene advised in a whisper that nobody else could hear.
Without further word, Drustina slipped away to the nursery as Irene turned to Zano.
“Thank you general. For one ghastly moment I thought his intention was to kill me. You behaved impeccably. I am impressed, for apart from that lioness, only you reacted with sufficient alacrity.”
“It was only my duty ma-am.” Zano shrugged. “I am sworn to protect you and serve you.”
Irene found herself studying the powerful figure of the general and realised she felt safe with him beside her. In her estimation he would have given as good as he got if the beast Oraxyis had meant to attack her. While general Zano was not a tall man he was an immensely powerful one. That the situation had worked out differently in no way detracted from his demonstration of loyalty and preparedness. She smiled and thanked him again.
“Nevertheless General I am indebted to you and I thank you for protecting me.”
He stood to attention and saluted her with his sword hand brought to his lips and the sword standing upright above his head before replacing it in his scabbard. Then he turned and nodded towards the door whence Drustina had departed before he addressed Aiofe and Irene.
“I believe we have some guests the other side of that door mi’ladies, did not Drustina talk of witnesses? They might be the evidence we have sought to bring this beast to account.”
And thus it proved to be. Both Moldoves and Russ had ample evidence of the atrocities committed by Oraxyis and his army and they were happy to bear witness. This, coupled with Drustina’s reports, was enough to have the beast Oraxyis castrated and forced into slavery. The byzantine justice system could be brutal and swift. The Empress Irene could look forward to a reign of peace but more importantly, she had in General Zano, a man who had no ambitions to usurp her throne and was yet ready to lay down his own life for her.
Irene realised that under that simian mantle, the man had a heart of gold and a keen sense of justice for the man had, after all, worked his own way up the ranks of the army from slave-born drummer boy to supreme commander. He was a man who had seen and suffered from the many injustices that the lowest ranks were burdened with and he carried long memories of abuses heaped upon him by aristocrats and holy men. Irene realised she was falling in love with general Zano despite his unbecoming countenance. Under that gorilla-like mantle, the man had a gentle and caring personality. Both Drustina and Aiofe’s keen feminine senses soon realised a romance was brewing and it woud take but the gentlest of feminine pushes to precipitate a wedding.
A Chapter where Drustina gets a serious shock and a beautiful surprise.
The Angry Mermaid 43.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 43.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
It didn’t take much to persuade Aiofe to stay for the wedding celebrations and naturally Arina also persuaded her husband Fantu to delay their return to Egypt. Excitement grew at the palace as Empress Irene became more and more enamoured of her newfound beau. For his part, General Zano tried to maintain his bluff, gruff soldierly image for the sake of the troops of the Byzantine army he now found himself in supreme command of. However the mood was also beginning to overtake him.
Naturally the four women Irene, Drustina, Aiofe and Arina took the major part in organising the festivities and they were excited to be given what was virtually a free hand. There had not been an empress for nearly a century and certainly not a spinster, virgin, maiden empress. The marriage arrangements were therefore a matter of indulgent creativity for Irene. There were no precedents to follow and none but her three companions would have dared to question the empress’s choice. There were however a few occasions when Zano felt obliged to put his foot down where he felt things were becoming a little too ‘over the top’.
The responsibilities were divided up amongst the girls insofar as the decorations were left to Drustina while Arina organised the festivities and Aiofe joined with Empress Irene in formalising the ceremonies and ensuring that the misogynistic Christian church did not impose upon the empress some unwarranted conditions of servility towards her husband. It surprised both Aiofe and Irene that the Patriarch, the Archbishop of Byzantium actually expected Irene to vow an oath of obedience to her future husband. Irene rejected the concept out of hand.
“Listen your Holiness! If I am to remain empress in mine own right and the head of state of this damned empire then I will pledge obedience to none. I will take advice when I deem it necessary and nothing else. I have learned, since achieving what both my father and my brother singularly failed to do, namely bringing peace to our northern border, that I have the wit and the strength to run this empire whilst yet taking counsel from genuinely wise and loyal companions. Archbishop! I have learned to learn and listen! I don’t need to obey!!!”
The patriarch was forced to accept the empress’s arguments for she now operated from a position of impregnable strength. Her political and military strength was backed up by a future husband who, whilst having a brilliant military mind, showed no ambition to usurp the throne. When the patriarch and his cohorts had secretly approached general Zano he sent them away with a flea in their collective ears.
“Listen you bloody parasites. Just be thankful the lady has decided to tolerate you and your misogynistic attitudes. She is the legitimate heir to the Byzantine throne and as long as I am beside her, that legitimacy will prevail. She is the legitimate daughter of a man I learned to love and obey without question!
There have been too many wars of succession and that is the main reason this bloody empire has suffered territorial losses. Do you not realise this victory over the Bulgars has been the first real Byzantine victory in over a hundred years?
While Empress Irene reigns, legitimacy reigns and while legitimacy reigns, the rule of law and justice will prevail. It’s about time we had more law and less nepotism in this byzantine court. Do you not realise Her Majesty, the Empress Irene, is the first empress to have advisors entirely from without her blood family! Her two prime advisors were both sisters from a lowly carpenter family, just like our Lord Jesus was a carpenter. That in itself must tell you she chooses her advisors based upon wisdom and merit, not based upon blood and connection! Now away with you and do what you do best, pacify the superstitious masses!”
The religious leaders scurried away fearful of invoking more of the general’s wrath for he was powerful and forceful commander who was worshipped by his men. Consequently, he also held the bishop’s collective fates in the palm of his empress’s hand. That frightened them for they knew the empress was pretty much sick to the back teeth with their institutionalised misogyny. The bishops also knew full well, that they also had ‘The lioness of Carthage’ to contend with when dealing with misogyny.
Thus where the wedding arrangements formalised and the wedding vows compiled to suite both bride and husband equally. The day eventually dawned and the whole city of Constantinople turned out in a frenzy of enthusiasm and rejoicing. Furthermore the celebration was used as a cunning diplomatic device insofar as the guest list was arranged on the basis of merit not blood and family connection.
Since the Empress Irene had been the last surviving child of Emperor Leon there were no immediate relatives and indeed, few if any close, blood relatives left to invite. Instead, soldiers and sailors who had served the empress well in the Bulgar wars took the places of second and third cousins who would ordinarily have expected to be automatically invited. Irene showed uncommon shrewdness in rewarding those who could best serve her in the future.
At the ceremony, Irene chose her three female companions as maids and matrons of honour while Zano chose his brother and his most loyal captain as his supporters. When the Patriarch asked ‘who gaveth this woman to be wed?’ Irene answered for herself and declared that she offered herself, as there was no one who was entitled to offer up an orphaned empress as some sort of prize. There was murmur of subdued approval amongst the womenfolk and the patriarch realised it would be folly to raise any objections.
Besides, a battle hardened, well armed general stood as the groom beside the woman and that groom’s sword would brook no argument. The patriach knew hie ecclesiastical teeth had been well and truly 'pulled'.
Eventually the marriage ceremony was completed, the bells pealed out the news and the whole city fell to feasting and celebrating.
After the marriage service there followed the wedding feast and this carried on into the evening when the entertainments started. Drustina had no partner at the feast. She was now officially a single woman but her male side still had occasional needs and she was minded to indulge her male side for once.
She was safe amongst longstanding proven friends in Aiofe and Arina while Irene, Zano and Fantu could readily be considered protective companions. As the wedding celebrations became more intense, many eyes followed the tempestuous warrior queen as she continued dancing wildly and provocatively with one of the younger captains who had accompanied her on the campaign through the Dona basin. Drustina was ‘strutting her stuff’ and thoroughly enjoying herself, as was the captain who had fought alongside her and shared in many perils during the fights amongst the Dona delta swamps. He danced with her and yet knew, despite her sensuous and provocative displays, that she was simply enjoying herself in dance. The captain knew that if he wanted other pleasures that night, he would have to seek them elsewhere.
Others were not so wise and one of those was the owner of a dance troupe contracted to entertain the revellers. When the famous dance troupe appeared at the festivities, ready to give a display, the troupe owner made the wrong assumptions. The man had noticed the wild, warrior-queen performing provocatively on the dance floor and he mistakenly assumed that an orgy was in the making.
The dance troupe was part of a larger travelling circus but the girls were actually his own slaves. Secretly, the owner would sometimes prostitute out his dancers to favoured clients.
They had been travelling from northern Europe through the heartlands of Europe and, now that peace reigned along the whole Dona River; the troupe had eventually arrived in Constantinople as a stepping stone to travelling further east into Asia Minor for more exotic and more lucrative opportunities.
The man was also an occasional trader in slaves and sometimes he would sell a dancer to some extremely wealthy client just to enrich himself and also to demonstrate to his dancers that their fate was entirely in his hands. The main circus owner left the control of the dancers to the dance troupe master and though he was no and excessively cruel man, it behoved the dancers not to anger him or cross him. Each Dancer carried a discreet brand on their buttocks marking them as ‘his property’.
When he arrived in the eastern provinces of Byzantium, his dancers, and more particularly, his fair haired dancers would fetch a high premium in the slave markets if he chose to sell any.
As Drustina and the captain threw themselves wildly about the floor, their acrobatic shenanigans were interrupted by the dramatic arrival of the dance troop when the beautiful girls appeared to a hypnotic drum beat. The wild pair quickly realised they were 'outclassed' so it was time for them to leave the floor and be entertained by the professionals. Their furious capering could be likened to duelling fighting cocks when compared to the sensuous and rhythmical undulations of the serpentine, professional dancers. Reluctantly Drustina returned to her high status seat while the captain returned to his own table and joined in the raucous merriment of his military companions.
As Drustina took her seat between Aiofe and Arina, Aiofe excused herself to visit the loo.
“Check on the babies please,” Drustina called just as Aiofe was leaving the hall.
Her sister turned and nodded with a smile for that was already the other duty she had in mind. The dancing and celebrations could go on briefly without her as she checked to see the children were okay. Thus it was that Aiofe was absent when the troupe owner approached the top table
“Would any of you honourable majesties be interested in purchasing any of these exotic dancers?”
Irene wagged her head as did Zano. They full knew that it was a veiled invitation to indulge in some licentious pastimes with a purchased concubine. Indeed, both Zano and Irene were somewhat annoyed that the troupe leader should presume that a newly wedded couple whose marriage was universally known to be a love match made in heaven, would want to share their love and honeymoon night with some concubine. However, for the sake of the festivities they did not make a fuss or cause a scene and they graciously refused the offer.
The dance troupe master took this seeming lack of offence as a licence to ply his trade down the table and he next came to Arina and Fantu. His offer was similarly rejected for Fantu and Arina were, like the empress and her new husband, married by love not arrangement.
Finally he came to Drustina whom his researches had told him was something of an enigma. He knew the Lioness of Carthage to now be divorced and he was as fascinated by the stories of Drustina’s duality as any other prurient individual. He knew of Drustina’s duality for it was no secret so he felt her strange duality might make her a more interested purchaser of one of his more exotic dancer’s services. Because Drustina was dressed as a queen, he approached her and addressed her as a female. The man at least had the wit to understand something of people who were deemed to have ‘alternative tastes’.
Drustina was unusually, slightly drunk. This condition admirably indicated the degree of comfort and security that Drustina felt at the feast. She had never been drunk before and she had only ‘let her hair down’ because she felt totally secure. In her mildly drunken state she lost some of her probity and actually agreed to ‘take’ one of the dancing girls. The dance master smiled ingratiatingly and slipped away to choose one of his more unusual slave girls who had not performed on the dance floor that. He had been told that one of his new blond slave girls was believed to have unusual tastes; indeed, this was the reason he had purchased her to put her into his stable. The new girl was reputed to still be a virgin and she had only recently been purchased to join the troop a few days before the feast.
Drustina had agreed to allow the Circus owner to send one of his ‘slaves’ to her bedroom.
Later that evening, as Drustina discreetly excused herself from Irene’s company, she explained to the empress.
“I’m feeling a little drunk sho I don’t want to embarrassh you anymore. I’m goin’ to bed.”
Irene nodded, looked at General Zano and they both grinned for nobody could ever remember having seen Drustina drunk before. Irene whispered to her new husband Zano.
“You’d better escort her to her bed then come to me in mine. You’re the only man she can feel safe about taking her to her room.”
Zano nodded, kissed his new bride and remarked.
“I’m pleased you know you can trust me with her. Despite that girl having had two sets of twins, she’s a remarkably pretty woman; but she’s still a fragile maid under all that warrior queen dressing.”
“Nobody knows that better than me darling,” Irene agreed. “Except perhaps Queen Aiofe and I see she’s already abed.”
Zano nodded and joined Drustina just as she was approaching the exit door.
“I’ll see you safe to your bedroom my girl. You look a little the worse for wear.”
Drustina staggered then fell against him and smiled as she looked into his eyes.
“I think I’m a bit drunk.”
Zano smiled indulgently as a fatherly feeling overcame him.
“You are my young lady, but I’ll excuse you this once. Everybody has a right to celebrate and I have never seen you in your cups before. Not even after the victory over the Bulgars. How does it feel to be drunk?”
“It feels nicsh,” she slurred as she grabbed at his powerful arm for support.
“Yes young lady but you’ll feel like hell in the morning. Come on, best you get to bed before you come to any further harm.”
Drustina was about to protest that she could protect herself but she lost her balance and plopped down heavily onto a convenient settee.
“I’ll shleep here,” she slurred again.
“No you won’t, bed for you young lady. Your services are too precious to be endangered while you’re drunk. Somebody might try to assassinate you.”
Drustina was about to protest that she could still protect herself, even when drunk. She reached for her dagger to show Zano she was armed and she was mildly surprised to find it wasn’t there. That morning, as a mark of respect to Irene’s special wedding day, Drustina had come unarmed as one of Irene’s supporters. For a moment she panicked, thinking somebody had stolen her trusty weapon but Zano reminded her.
“You left it behind in your bedroom. It’s hanging with your other weapons behind your door. I posted a guard to your bedroom to see that no harm came to them for I know how much store you set by them.”
Drustina smiled then wrapped her arms around Zano’s immense neck.
“Thanks general. I think you are one of the few that undershtands.”
She kissed him but Zano knew it was more a daughterly mark of respect and affection than some invite to her bed. He picked her up and carried her in his arms to bed room then called to one of the trusted maids.
“You’d best undress her. I’ll just see no harm comes.”
Drustina was laid gently on the bed and Zano stood looking out of the window while the maid got Drustina ready for bed. Eventually the maid reported that all was satisfactory and Zano escorted her from the room. Once the bedroom was empty, Drustina lurched drunkenly for her weapons and removed the dagger from its sheath before slipping it under her pillow. She may have been drunk but some habits were as second a nature as breathing. Outside the room, as the maid departed down the corridor, Zano turned to the guard.
“There is a slave girl coming to her bed later, one of the dancing girls ... a prostitute. Remember you saw nothing and say nothing. The lioness is entitled to some privacy and indulgence.”
The guard was one who had fought alongside Drustina in the thick of the Bulgar campaigns for Zano knew which of Drustina’s companion soldiers had been brave and trustworthy. Zano knew the guard to be an utterly loyal and devout follower of the warrior queen, who was now lying drunk and abed behind the door. The guard smiled and replied softly to the general.
“I guard her with my life sir, but you know that.”
There was a soft footfall on the stair and both general and guard stiffened.
“Hist! I think the slave-girl approaches.”
Zano was right. A blond haired girl glided seductively along the corridor and stopped when confronted by the two powerful men.
She hesitated then asked nervously.
“Which is the room of the lioness?”
Zano looked down at the girl and smiled thoughtfully.
‘The girl would have been beautiful if it wasn’t for the garish face paint that she wore as the demeaning badge of a common prostitute.’
Even with the demeaning paint though, few men would have resisted the temptation she offered. However Zano and the guardsman were not to be tempted but both soldiers had not missed the vicious bruises on her legs and the limp she had cleverly hidden in her seductive approach. General Zano answered.
“We guard her door as you speak woman. This sentinel or his relief will be outside the door all night. I am sorry but we must search you for any hidden weapons.”
The prostitute swallowed nervously but underneath she was angry, hurt and frightened. If she was to be groped and felt by
anybody it should have at least been a woman. She removed the diaphanous knee-length shift she was wearing to reveal the panties
and bra. She was bitterly angry and ashamed that the dance master had painted her face and dressed her in the ‘uniform of the common prostitute. Somehow, General Zano sensed this so he assumed the search duties for himself. At least his rank would give some degree of respectability to the insult he was about to commit. The maid stiffened and tiny tears escaped her eyes despite her resolve. Zano made the search as swift and cursory as he dared whilst ensuring there was no knife or hidden vial of poison. Finally he stood up and apologised.
“I’m sorry you had to endure that girl, but we can take no chances.”
“Then might I enter sirs? I am expected. She asked for a maid.”
“We know that my girl, but be careful. Try no tricks for the lioness bites and she is certain death with weapons.”
“So I am told but I don’t come to harm her.”
“We know.” Zano replied as he opened the door to reveal Drustina lying dishevelled on the bed.
Already the warrior queen had tossed and turned in restless sleep. The maid turned to the men and wagged her head.
“She’s younger than I expected. She also looks a mess.”
“She’s drunk young lady, but that gives you no licence to abuse her or neglect your duty. Just be patient with her for we hold her high.”
The maid’s glance switched between the powerful general’s protective, fatherly smile and the guard’s vigorous agreement with his commander. It was obvious they both held the drunken girl on the bed in some high place of their affections. The visiting maid realised it behoved her to behave herself and avoid her secondary instructions, namely to try and find any valuable jewels and possibly rob the drunken queen she had been contracted to bed with. She paid her respects to the men and stepped softly into the bedroom then closed the door silently behind her. Outside the chamber, Zano exchanged a concerned look with the guard for it would have been easy for the prostitute to have slipped a knife into Drustina’s ribs; a knife already secreted in the room. However there was no secret knife.
Once inside the chamber the woman looked around for any useful thing to possibly steal ... something of value but small enough to secrete about her skimpy attire. There seemed to be nothing of any beauty, no jewels, and no necklaces. There were only the well worn but polished sword and a war bow hanging behind the door. She had no use for those. She noticed the empty dagger sheath and wondered nervously where the dagger was.
In bitter silence she cursed her new master; the circus dancing master who had recently bought her as a dancer but had quickly realised her stunning beauty would earn him more money as a high priced whore. The maid’s previous master had been essentially an entertainer and he had treated his dancing girls more or less as free women despite they’re being slaves. He had received an offer for the blond maid that had vastly surpassed his wildest expectations and he had innocently sold the beautiful virgin to the circus owner cum dancing master but a few days earlier.
This new dancing master not only ran a dancing troop but he often forced his slaves to serve as prostitutes and that was the main reason he had paid such a high price for the blond maid’s beauty. He had immediately come to this conclusion that this blond would serve as a spectacularly exotic member of his troop. Making the girl serve as a virgin prostitute that very night, had been her first task. She had now to sleep with one of the most famous people in Byzantium and earn the dance master a pretty penny in pimping fees.
What had hurt the maid most though was the fact she was one of the best dancers in all of Europa. From Rome to Byzantium, and from Britannia to the Russ, her name was known. Now she had been reduced in one single transaction, to a common prostitute and thief.
‘How had she come to this?’ She asked herself bitterly as she looked at the dishevelled mess on the bed.
Worse still, she had been beaten into accepting the revolting duty the dance master had given her, namely pleasing some sexual freak that was reputed to be both male and female.
“Uugghh! Disgusting!’ She thought as she studied the form on the bed.
The snoring drunken freak had blond hair like her own and that intrigued her. It was reputed that ‘The Lioness’ had come from the north. If the ‘perverted creature’ had been a normal man, the face and hair on the pillow, though overly feminine, would have been attractive but to this maid, the idea of having to unite with this creature, this freak was horrifying. Carefully she approached the bed and checked to make sure the sleeping creature was truly asleep. The soft snores told her it was so she slid carefully into the bed and peeled back the sheet to double check if the rumours were true. She gasped as she realised they were. Under the sleeping, drunken, warrior queen’s short waist-length chemise she could see ripe breasts rising and falling softly in the moonlight but where there should have been a maid’s parts, she felt a man’s parts.
Curiosity overtook her and she gently stroked the flaccid organ. It remained flaccid and the drunken creature did not even respond.
‘Good’. The 'prostitute' concluded, ‘at least she would have a peaceful night; until the morning anyway’. As tears betook her, she curled up into a frightened ball and lay rigidly still until a fitful sleep eventually overtook her.
Several times in the night, the drunk stirred, grunted and even occasionally called out something about ‘my children’ but the maid managed to calm the beast and return it to sleep with soothing words and gentle caresses. At dawn the maid awoke and sat upright against the bed-board waiting for the drunken freak to stir. Eventually there was a murmur from under the sheets and a dishevelled head appeared with red-rimmed eyes and hair spread wildly down her face. The dancing maid had often seen her dancing friends appear like this after a party. Usually it was cause for sympathetic amusement but this time the maid was wholly unsure.
The freak looked up then realised there was another occupant of its bed and it peered from between its bedraggled tresses as it asked.
“Who the hell are you?” For the garishly painted face disguised Tara’s looks.
Unable to bear the hurt and misfortune of such awful degradation, Tara snapped back.
“I am Tara; Tara the dancer, forced to come to your bed like some common whore!”
“Tara”. Drustina croaked the name as her befuddled brain rolled it around her tongue. “I once knew a Tara. She was a dancer.”
“Well I am THE Tara! Tara the Celt! Tara of the lost tribe!”
Drustina’s befuddled brain continued to struggle to connect the facts and she slumped again on the pillow as her hang-over pounded. She ran the maid’s words through her throbbing head then rolled over again to study the garishly painted beauty and mumbled curiously.
“What lost tribe?”
“It doesn’t matter. They are no more. I am the last. Tara of the Celts! Tara the dancer! I was until this night a virgin but now I am to become Tara the whore!!”
She spat the last words bitterly for until that very night Tara had remained pure and chaste. That night she had been despatched by the dancing master to sacrifice her very virginity to the Lioness of Carthage. It had been nothing but an act of pure, brutal commercialism to garner for the dance-master and the whole circus, a free pass to all Byzantium and the rich pickings of the whole of the east. Tara’s purity, a virginity that she had held on to through all the tribulations of slavery by dint of her dancing skills, was now to be sacrificed on the altar of greed and money.
The facts still didn’t connect in Drustina’s brain and she shook her head which only caused her head to ache and spin.
“Damn! I must have tied it on last night!”
She stumbled out of bed and staggered uncertainly to the assorted drinking jugs where she poured a goblet of fresh juice with her shaking hands. Then she went for a wee and squatted like a girl but unusually facing the pot with her back to Tara for her male plumbing dictated it this way. While Drustina squatted with her bare arse towards Tara, the dancing maid first wondered at the peculiar condition of this freak then she noticed the huge scar.
“Where did you get that cut?”
Drustina sighed. She was used to such questions but this time the slave in her bed was asking out of genuine curiosity not demanding to see it as an identity check. Wearily, Drustina replied.
“Ooooh bloody hell, that was years ago; I killed a Viking jarl but his last sword strike cut my arse from my waist to my crotch.”
As she spoke, Drustina wiped her penis just as a normal girl wiped her parts, then she stood and turned again to confront the maid full frontal. In the dawn’s clear light her male parts were clearly visible. Tara’s eyes widened as she realised the creature was indeed part man. While the Lioness had been talking in the bed, Tara had felt she was in the company of a maid and a maid yet even younger than she was. Now it was shockingly evident she was in a room with a man!
After recovering her composure she whispered nervously.
“So you are a man!”
Drustina frowned momentarily as her eyes followed Tara’s gaze to her cock then she shrugged; her gender was no longer a matter of concern to her. In her cups last night she had truly fancied a maid to bed but now, in the cold light of dawn, she did not. At least, she did not want some garishly painted, terrified girl who had been forced to serve her like a common whore. Drustina stepped aside and rooted though her bed-side chest to produce a large towel to cover both her modesty and her bosom. As Drustina tucked it under her arms and over her generous bust, the towel hung to her thighs to cover her male part. This feminine action calmed the maid for men rarely put their clothes on if they were about indulging in intimacy.
“You are not going to take me then?” Tara asked.
“What!” Drustina almost growled through her still raw throat. “Not with this bloody head! Oooww! It bloody throbs. Remind me not to get drunk again! I need a bath. Can you call one of the servants ... please?”
“Being given such a simple task calmed Tara’s nerves and she was happily surprised that the Lioness had said ‘please’. She found a bell pull and yanked it hard then turned to face the Lioness.”
“So you do not intend to take me then?”
“What! Good god no! I said quite clearly that I wasn’t. Are you bloody deaf girl?”
The dancing girl sagged with relief but the lioness’s words brought little comfort. The circus master would expect her to have somehow pleased the Lioness. Tara stood there nervously as Drustina took another long draught of the fresh fruit juice that had been thoughtfully arranged to be left by the bed on Zano’s orders. She sat with her back to Tara gulping down the delicious re-vitalising juice.
Eventually Drustina felt a little better. Her youth and the juice were quickly silencing the trip-hammer banging inside her head. She turned thoughtfully to the nervous dancer.
“I’m intrigued by this lost tribe thing. If you say this tribe is a lost Celtic tribe then I will know more. What do you know of a tribe called the Gangani?”
Tara sighed.
“Can I wash my face please, this paint is truly horrible. The dance master had me painted like a whore to look like a whore, the badge of shame! I am not a whore, I am a dancer!”
“By all means wash girl, but you’ll have to wait for the hot water. The servant’s will be fetching it as we speak. Now about this lost tribe of the Gangani. Do you know what happened to them?”
“Why do you worry so about them? I know that they are gone! Finished! The Norsemen took them into bondage. There are a few scattered families on the Lleyn but most are dead or enslaved.”
“The Lleyn you say! What do you know of the Lleyn?”
“Only that it was once my home. It is a peninsular and a beautiful one, with Yr Wyddfa as its guardian?”
Drustina’s jaw sagged.
“By the gods! Describe it further but tell no lies for I once knew and loved that place! It was once my home also. I am Drustan, or more correctly, I was once Drustan; Drustan ap Caderyn ap Erin. Now I am Drustina, Lioness of Carthage, Crocodile of the Nile, Counsel to the Empress Irene!”
Tara’s face went white and even under the grotesque mask of garish makeup; Drustina could see her expression change.
“What’s wrong girl. Now what frightens you? I’m not going to bloody hurt you now! Surely I thought that was obvious!”
Tara let out a long painful wail of emotion, whether from fear or joy or pure terror or ecstasy, she knew not. Finally, she slumped to the floor and let out a long groan of confusion and despair. Then her sobbing sent convulsions through her beautiful body. Drustina stared uncomprehendingly at the hysterical form.
“What the hell is wrong with you woman. I expected some sort of sensuous co-operative bedfellow not some hysterical actor.”
The wailing form slowly recovered its composure than sat up with tear stained streaks having caused lurid streaks down her pale cheeks. Finally, after recovering her composure, Tara whispered between short choking sobs. She spoke in the Celtic tongue to convince the lioness that she was who she was.
“I am Tara, daughter of Caderyn, granddaughter of Erin. Our grandmother was Giana you never knew our mother!!! I’m your bloody sister!!!”
With this, Tara sat up but continued sobbing from both joy and despair. For long moments Drustina stood gaping stupidly at the shuddering form that stretched across the bed. It was the Celtic tongue that had convinced Drustina that the girl was telling the truth. Eventually she knelt down beside her and continued in the old Celtic tongue.
“If you are Tara, daughter of Caderyn, what was our mother’s name?”
“Our mother was Herenoie. Sister to Dryslwyn, Premier King of the Celts in Brittany!”
Drustina gasped as tears began to form.
‘This must be her!’ Drustina struggled to comprehend the enormity of the situation.
She decided to win the girl’s confidence and offered to help her.
“What can I do for you sister? Ask and you shall have it!”
“Between long sobs and gasps for breath Tara begged.”
“Free me brother. Free me from this bondage!”
Drustina looked down stunned that the girl, her own sister no less, had felt it necessary to even ask.
“Of course you are free! From this very moment you are free. Get up sister. Let me wash that filth from your face, let me gaze upon my other sister!”
“Other sister. How’s that? Am I not your only sister? Our other sisters are dead, murdered by the Norsemen or taken as slaves.”
It was Drustina’s turn to smile with joy as she knelt beside the sitting girl then lifted Tara in her arms and hugged her tight.
“No my beloved Tara. Our sisters are not dead; they escaped with me in my boat, the Mermaid. Did you not know the Queen of Carthage is here as an honoured guest of the Empress Irene?”
“Well ... yes ... but.”
“No buts dear sister. Our sister Aiofe is the Queen of Carthage. Do you not remember Magab, the moor who taught us numbers?”
Tara gaped dumbly as she nodded acknowledgement and Drustina explained.
“Magab was Prince of Carthage and rightful heir to the throne but we had to fight to reinstate him after his younger brother murdered their father and we had to help Magab win it back. Oh it’s a long story but enough of me, what of you my beloved sister? What hells have brought you here?”
As Drustina asked this question there was a knock on the door.
“Enter!”
The door opened and Arina entered followed by a string of servants. When she saw that Drustina was kneeling on the floor with a prostitute lying sobbing in her arms Arina rushed forward, drawing her sword. Drustina squealed a warning.
“No! No! The maid means no harm. Wash her first, wash this filth from her face, wash her ‘til her skin shines, wash her ‘til this hair glistens like mine!!! Treat her like she was mine own!”
”Arina hesitated as she caught Drustina’s eye. Long association and companionship told Arina something special was afoot. She stopped as Drustina nodded pointedly towards the wash room.
“Have them prepare the bath! — For both of us.”
Arina immediately set the servants to task then returned to join Drustina and the prostitute on the floor of the bed chamber.
“What is it Dru? What makes this whore so special?”
Drustina gently pressed her fingers on Tara’s lips as Tara drew breath to protest. Then she answered in a Celtic whisper. Arina was of course herself Celtic so using their old common tongue served to keep their words private from the servants.
“She’s not a whore Arry. She’s somebody more special to me even than you, even than Aiofe!”
Arina immediately grasped that something very unusual was afoot, she was about to ask but Drustina placed her other fingers gently on her friend’s lips as she continued in the same almost inaudible whisper.
“She’s my sister Arry, she’s the sister I thought was dead, she’s the sister who was captured into bondage by Blueface and those damnable Norsemen. She’s my sister Tara, Tara the dancer, Tara the middle daughter. Apart from my twin Queen Mabina, she is my closest living relative.”
At these words Tara let out a shriek.
“Mabina! You say Mabina? Mabina lives?”
“Uuuhmm yes sister,” Drustina smiled as Arina nodded affirmation. “But it’ s Queen Mabina now, Queen Mabina of Portua. She rules as monarch in her own right. Her husband is only her consort! My twin sister, your younger sister is a queen!”
“Then I must see her!”
“Whoa, steady sister, you must learn to run before you walk. Mabina reigns a long way from here, at the other end of Europa.
First we must make you presentable to your oldest sister Queen Aiofe. It will not do to meet her painted as a whore. Go and get in the Bath and tell nobody. I want us to surprise our older sister.”
After the bath was filled, Arina shooed the servants away and locked the door to the corridor then returned to the bathroom. Already, the grotesque ‘whore-mask’ was nearly scrubbed away and immediately, Arina could see a clear likeness between her beloved companion and the dancing prostitute.
“So you are truly sisters then” Arina squeaked, overcome by the exciting events.
“Uuuhm, no, we’re sister and brother,” Tara corrected her.
Then Drustina corrected Tara.
“Uuuhm no dear sister, we are sister and sister. I count myself as woman in the main.”
“How did this come about? You were all boy as a child and pretty naughty one. Grandma bathed me with you and Mabina countless times and I see you still have what you had then.”
Drustina sighed; at some time she would have to sit down with her long lost sister and tell her the whole saga. For now however, there were more urgent issues.
“Come on, let’s bath together like we used to as children. The bath is big enough. D’you want to join us Arina? Perhaps
Tara will feel a little bit more confident and secure if there is a chaperone though I would never ever hurt my sister.”
Arina glanced at Tara and Drustina’s new-found sister smiled as she nodded.
“Yes, it would be nice if you joined us, besides, I’ll wager you have some tales to tell about my bro-, sister.”
“Ho, dear Tara, there is much to tell ... so much to tell; but first I must contact the wardrobe mistress. You cannot be presented to the Empress Irene and Queen Aiofe dressed as a common whore. You are the same size as me so I will tell her to bring a selection of gowns to this room.”
Tara smiled her gratitude and hesitated beside the bath while Arina skipped excitedly away. Drustina looked up from the steaming water.
“You’d best get in before it gets cold. The servants will be back shortly to add more hot water, I wouldn’t want them to see you naked beside the bath. The water and soap oils make for modesty.”
“Am I safe? You will not touch me?”
Drustina gasped her protest.
“For God’s sake Tara! You’re my sister! It’s illegal!” Then she grinned. “Besides, you’ve seen it all before.”
“That was a long time ago.” Tara spoke softly. “Innocence has long departed us.”
“If two sisters cannot bathe together, it has come to a sad pass.”
“Do they all see you as a woman then?”
“Yes. Even when I am in the heat of battle with my troops, they see me as the warrior queen. That’s how the whole Byzantine army sees me, ‘The Warrior Queen’. The operative word is Queen dear sister, they all regard me as a woman, some even think of me as a mother and I am only just entered into my third decade. Now get in and don’t be so contrary.”
“I’ll wait for Arina. I want to start as I hope to go on. You will confirm nothing happened won’t you?”
“Of course dear virgin sister. You are a virgin aren’t you?”
Tara grabbed a large chunk of soap oil and flung it at her sibling. He laughed as she scolded him with a smile.
“You cheeky bugger! Yes I am dammit! Though it’s thanks to you for I should have lost it last night.”
“It’s a good job I was drunk then. Ah here comes Arina.”
The bedroom door opened and Arina appeared followed by several maids carrying gowns and then a procession of female servants carrying more hot water. With the circumstance now seemingly entirely female, Tara relaxed, flung off her towel and stepped into the delicious water. As she settled in the suds, she asked Drustina how she knew Arina was outside the door.
“I’m alert to the slightest nuance of sound or mood my dear sister. I heard the guard clank his shield and sword as he saluted her approach. I’m well protected.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you needed protection; your reputation precedes you.”
“I was drunk last night. I think Zano felt it expedient to set a guard by my door. When we are finished here in the bath, take look under my pillow.”
The conversation changed subject as Arina splashed noisily into the bath and Tara demanded to know of her brother/sister’s story.
“Well tell me of yours first dear sister. We have both walked life’s highways.”
“Mine were the low-ways dear Drustan. There’s not much to tell of except constant travelling and dancing. I have been sold on
several times as a dancer since being taken into slavery by that animal Blueface. We journeyed town by town all over the cold northern lands of Europa then we usually wintered in some godforsaken forest or flea infested camp while we shivered in our tents.”
“So you’ll know your way around Europe then ... The northern climes that is, Saxon lands and Norse lands.” Drustina probed.
“Oh by God I do. It seems as though I travelled every road, every town every bloody fair and festival.”
Arina and Drustina exchanged glances as Arina nodded and grinned thoughtfully.
“She’ll do comrade. Both guide and minder of your children.”
Drustina nodded as she posed her next question.
“Do you want to return to Lleyn?”
Tara’s eyes filled up with tears.
“Oh yes! Truly I do but how dear brother, how? The Norsemen rule there now or at least they rule the coastal towns and that includes our little settlement.”
Drustina spoke softly but with menace.
“I have plans for those thieves; all I ask is if you’re with me, and if you’ll stay with me? It will not be easy, I have battles to fight and risks to take but you will be a free woman. However I must ask if you will help me care for my children? Sometimes I am not the best mother and that is when I am at war.”
Tara nodded vigorously.
“Yes! Yes! I have heard of your battles, travellers would talk of them whenever we encountered them. Your deeds in Iberia are legend and now your success in the Bulgar lands is spreading fast. If I am with you, I feel I will be safe, so if it means returning to my home and even possibly one day meeting Mabina, then yes, I am with you!”
“Good, then when we meet Queen Aiofe you may hear my tale. She can tell you much of it for I don’t wish to seem boastful.”
Tears of joy flooded down Tara’s cheeks. Both Arina and Drustina slid across the bath and hugged her tight, oblivious of their nudity. Arina despatched the servants and Tara simply broke down with joy and relief. They shared an hour in the bath and the water was cold before they emerged, then a loud knock on the door finally alerted them that they had a visitor. Tara tensed slightly but Drustina reassured her as she stepped naked to unlock the door.
A Chapter where Queen Aiofe gets to meet her longlost sister Tara in joyful reunion and the friends finally have to say their goodbyes as some go north through the Prypet Marshes and others return to North Africa.
This was the more sedate style of bundling adopted by puritans after Elizabethan times. The earlier bundling traditions included playing tricks on the newly weds in addition to allowing intimacy without intercourse before deciding on marriage.
The Angry Mermaid 44
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 44.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
The knock on the door was repeated urgently and Drustina called out.
“Who is it?”
“Who d’you think” Called back a voice that Drustina and Arina recognised immediately but Tara didn’t.
Drustina grinned and caught Arina’s eye. ‘Could there be a better way to introduce her middle sister to her older sister queen?’ She asked herself.
“Wait a minute, I’ll unlock the door.”
Drustina paused still absolutely naked while Tara and Arina settled in the chilly bathwater. Tara could not help but notice how many scars there were on her younger sister/brother’s body. Apart from the huge scar on her delicious but muscular arse and the vicious arrow scar that ‘flensed’ down the inside of her arm there were numerous lesser scars bearing mute testimony to the many battles that her younger sister must have fought. Tara was coming to realise that whilst her younger sibling’s life-story had obviously been an exciting series of high adventures, that life-story had come at considerable risk and cost. The scars were not a pretty sight on a girl’s body, especially when that girl was both sort of handsome and yet strangely beautiful in her own somewhat androgynous, warrior-like way.
‘No girl should ever have to suffer from so much disfigurement!’ Tara told herself.
From the privacy of her bath afforded by the soapy water, Tara wondered who had come to visit and she watched as Drustina opened the door.
When Tara recognised the person stepping through the doorway her jaw sagged with shock and delight.
“Get down,” Arina whispered urgently as she tugged Tara’s arm and suggested she give the queen a beautiful surprise. Tara slipped lower into the cool water and peeped over the edge of the huge bath. The visitor however remained stood by the door amusedly scolding her sibling Drustina.
“Is that how you meet a queen dear little sister? Naked as you were born?”
“You’ve seen me naked before dear big sister, since I first drew breath as a newborn baby no less. Besides, you have nothing else about you but that dressing gown and you’re naked underneath that. Now, step closer, I have a sweet surprise for you.”
At first, Aiofe did not recognise the yellow hair and eyes peeping nervously over the edge of the bath. She studied the unknown visitor then asked Drustina.
“Is this the wench sent to you last night?”
“It is dear sister,” Drustina smirked.
“Then tell her to stand in the presence of a queen. Let me know who this harlot is.”
“Oh! She is more than just a harlot dear sister; I take immense delight in presenting to you a soul we had adjudged lost long ago.”
Drustina motioned to the semi-submerged girl as she instructed her with a conspiratorial smile.
“Stand harlot for before you is Queen Aiofe.”
Tara erupted angrily from the water and shrieked in her old Celtic tongue as she stood unwittingly seductive while the water cascaded down her body.
“Damn you! I am no harlot!”
Aiofe’s jaw simply fell until it almost separated from her head as she recognised the second woman to stand naked before her that morning. Then she recovered her composure and asked uncertainly for she still could not believe her own eyes.
“Tara!!!? Is that really you!!!?”
Tara calmed down immediately for she realised Drustina had been teasing them. She turned uncertainly to Aiofe as she realised she had made an awful faux pas.
“It is dear sister, or do I call you your majesty?”
“For an answer, Aiofe lost all her royal decorum as she released her own shriek of delight. Then, she shrugged off her dressing gown and jumped naked into the bath to fling her arms around Tara. Tara staggered under the onslaught and almost slipped but Drustina grabbed her shoulder for she had also stepped into the bath to join in the embrace. Naturally the tears of joy flooded again but this time, all three sisters were hugging each other as tightly as their arms allowed. Arina looked on, smiling to see such an emotional reunion. Eventually, the sisters recovered their composure and Aiofe declared they must immediately visit Empress Irene.
“What like this?” Tara mocked.
“No silly,” Aiofe grinned, “we’ll slip some gowns on and go and visit her in her bedroom. It was her honeymoon last night so I imagine she’ll still be abed.”
Tara gaped stupidly.
“Her honeymoon!”
The three others nodded as Arina asked.
“Yes, what did you think the festival was yesterday?”
“Why the bastard!!” Tara cursed.
“Who.” Drustina asked.
“That dance master! My owner! I am Tara, the best dancer in all Europe, why was I not put to dance at the wedding feast?”
“Search me,” Drustina replied. “I don’t know.”
“I do; now!” Tara cursed. “Damn and blast his perverted mores! He had me down permanently as one of his whores. The bastard never was going to let me dance again!”
“Well that’s been stopped sister.” Drustina reassured her. “Your freedom was assured the moment I learned of your existence. Anyway, you are royalty now for you are the sister of Queen Aiofe of Carthage.”
Aiofe grinned and wagged her head towards Drustina before adding.
“More importantly dear Tara you are also the sister of this great warrior queen... ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ no less, only a man with an army could stand against her wishes and that would be risky for him. Be assured my dearest sister, with this girl’s sword to protect you, your bondage is well and truly ended.”
Drustina blushed.
“Hist thee now big sister. Flattery is a dangerous weapon.”
Arina backed Aiofe up.
“But it’s true Dru. The Dance Master would be an absolute idiot to demand his property back.”
Tara blanched slightly.
“Would he do that?”
“He might try it. Have you been branded as a slave?” Aiofe asked.
Tara hung her head in shame and another tear escaped her eye.
“Sadly yes but my last master called us his dancers and performers. We were his slaves for he did not pay us but he fed and housed us and allowed us the freedom to wander the towns we visited. None of his girls absconded for we were mostly happy to belong to a dance troupe. Men respected us. Some even bought some of the girls and took them for wives. That was the usual route out of bondage for us. That's what I was hoping for.”
“But what of this new owner?” Drustina asked.
“Well he hasn’t second-branded me with his brand yet. Maybe he intends to brand me when he breaks my spirit.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens now sister.” Drustina assured her as she tapped her Toledo sword hanging behind the door. “If he objects to my liberating you, he must answer to this.”
Aiofe smiled and vigorously nodded confirmation. She well knew of her brother/sister’s skill with her Toledo blade. Tara glanced at her older sister and felt her fears dry up in the heat of Aiofe’s reassuring smile. Then Arina re-affirmed her previous remark.
“Yes, truly he would be an utter fool. Come on, let’s get dressed and visit Irene. Do you remember that old Celtic bundling game?”
The three sister’s eyes widened with delight as they all remembered the traditional fun of ‘bundling’ newly-weds.
“What shall we do to them?” Tara asked with a huge smile splitting her face.
“If they’re sleeping deeply enough, let’s sew them into their bedding.” Aiofe suggested. “That was always a good one.
The mood lightened at the prospect of catching Irene and Zano abed then ‘bundling’ the pair in the old Celtic tradition. Aiofe retired to her chambers down the corridor while the other three selected gowns from the samples brought earlier by the wardrobe servants. They met again in the corridor and eagerly slipped along to the wardrobe mistress to scrounge some needles and lots of thread. After explaining their game, the wardrobe mistress grinned and handed them the goods. She followed just as eagerly as the four girls slipped quietly to Empress Irene’s bedroom door.
They whispered to the guards who instantly recognised three of the girls and the wardrobe mistress. They looked uncomprehendingly at Tara until Aiofe and Drustina vouched for the stranger. Finally the guards recognised the similarity between Drustina and her middle sister so they accepted that Tara was a sister of both Drustina and Queen Aiofe. The resemblance was too uncanny. The guards grinned as Aiofe explained the game; the idea of seeing their chief of staff and their supreme commander stitched up in a sheet caught their imagination also.
After listening at the door, Aiofe concluded that the honeymooners were still asleep and they noiselessly slipped the latch. Once inside they all grinned at the site of Irene draped fast asleep over a snoring Zano’s powerful hairy chest. As the guards watched to make sure no harm came to their mistress and her general, the four girls carefully arranged the sheets over the comatose lovers then quickly started sewing ‘homeward-bounders’ around the edges. Soon the newlyweds were ensconced in an envelope of Egyptian linen. It was then that Aiofe let out a shrill shout that awakened the pair and the watchers squealed with laughter as the trapped couple loudly protested. Irene’s squeals quickly turned to giggles as she realised she was trapped with her beau but Zano took a little longer to realise it was a game. His roars eventually changed to chuckles and then a busy silence as eager, imperial fingers delicately explored the General’s body yet again under the privacy afforded by the closed bag.
“Stoppit you randy buggers!” Drustina charged for she was the only one present with sufficient familiarity to speak thus to both the empress and the general.
“You lot bugger off,” Zano commanded. “Go and get your breakfasts then return later. We’re happy here.”
With the rolls of victims seemingly reversed, the morning’s entertainment was completed and they left the newlyweds to their own devices while they repaired to the dining hall for breakfast.
“I bet they’ll be hungry by noon,” Arina giggled.
“They’ll want a wee before then,” Aiofe smirked, “let’s see if they’ve the wit to make it to the loo whilst bundled inside the sheets.”
The four delayed their return to the imperial bedroom until the eleventh hour and laughed themselves silly as Irene and Zano both pleaded to be released from the bag.
“Hurry!” Irene pleaded, I’m nearly wetting myself.
“So am I!” roared Zano, “cut us free!”
For effect, Drustina took her sword and deftly sliced through the linen to release the couple who dashed red-faced but naked and uncaring, to relieve themselves.
While the four girls squealed with laughter, Zano emerged grinning as he swore to get his revenge in jest.
“You buggers! I’ll get you back, I promise you. Just watch your backs!”
Then Irene emerged giggling from the lavatory and promised a similar revenge.
With the merriment over, the daily affairs of state soon impinged upon their lives again. Irene and Zano had planned a ‘grand progress’ around the empire and that was a journey that would take a solid year. Sadly the four girls reflected that they would all be making their separate ways before Irene and her husband departed. The mood became somewhat sombre as Aiofe and Arina reflected that they each had their different destinations to reach while only Drustina and Tara would remain together as they planned their return home to Lleyn. In the following week, both Aiofe and Arina made their sad farewells at the quayside as they departed sadly reflecting that they might never see each other again.
Eventually only Drustina and Tara were left for Drustina had invited Eric and Carl to accompany them home for the girls knew that Aiofe’s Saxon companions were equally as ‘homesick’ as they. Eric and Carl would probably separate when they reached their own homelands in Saxony and Freisia.
The Saxon pair eagerly accepted the invitation and as news of the imminent departure spread, some one hundred other expatriate Saxons, Gauls and even a couple of Danes, clamoured eagerly to join the party. Many northern Europeans had been stuck in Byzantium all through the Bulgar wars and many desperately wished to see their homes. Drustina had secretly hoped this would happen for with a small army, they would be safer travelling and they would even have enough men to ‘portage’ The Angry Mermaid by dragging her through the slimy summer mud of the Pripet Marshes. With luck and determination, they might even return to Lleyn with Drustina’s beloved ship intact.
Irene and Zano had organised the departure of their Imperial progress to follow a couple of days after Drustina’s departure thus came the day ‘The Angry Mermaid’ and two other boats of similar construction to the Mermaid were fretting at the quays of Constantinople while farewells were made and tearful departures enacted on the quay as many friends separated with no expectations of ever seeing each other again. Some staying back in Constantinople because of marriage and family ties, whilst others took their families with them. Naturally, Drustina had her two ‘firstborn’ twins with her and, in addition to a devoted sister to nanny them; there were several other ‘northern’ girls who were accompanying their new husbands on what was for them a great adventure. Seripatese, Drustina’s faithful mare was also a passenger.
Finally the hour came when Drustina and Tara stepped onto their gangplank and turned to bid farewell to Zano and Irene.
As they teetered delicately on the narrow plank, Zano deftly kicked the plank and the pair plunged into the water.
For a moment there were howls of protest from the Saxons and Gauls until Drustina emerged laughing and spluttering. She realised Zano had ‘got her back’ for the honeymoon ‘bundling’. Tara also emerged spluttering and cursing for a moment until Zano threw down a line and heaved them back onto the quay with his immense strength. She started laughing as she realised the joke.
Dripping wet the girls squawked with laughter as Irene handed them two sets of dry clothes.
“These are to remember me by. Now go before I break down completely and while we are still laughing. I will miss you terribly.”
Soaking wet but in joyful mood the sisters finally boarded ‘The Angry Mermaid’ and joined the other two ships in the centre of the channel. After a final wave, a fair wind took them north up the Bosporus and out of Irene’s sight.
A Chapter covering Drustina's journey from Byzantium to Warsaw through the Pryapet Marshes.
The Angry Mermaid 45
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 45.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
The trio of ships swept out of the Bosporus and into the Black Sea where the currents no longer hampered them. Soon the Byzantine coast was a thin whispy smear of grey to the south of the flotilla then it was gone as the grey to black waters of the Black Sea lived up to their name and the climate became distinctly cooler and damper. For the first day they made good progress while the southerly wind that had thrust them out of the Bosporus persisted. Eventually, during the night, the wind backed to a cool north-easterly breeze that enabled them to sail north whilst ‘close-hauled’ as tight as ever a ship could get in those days. Soon however, the cool breeze turned to an icy blast as the North easterly winter winds blowing out of the Crimea and Siberia, brought with it the inevitable discomforts. The bitter winds blowing over the still warm sea, brought fog and rain and then snow.
As visibility slowly reduced, the three ships stuck close together as the mists thickened until they were compelled to set long ropes between the ships and sail in single file with the long lines connecting them. It served in the lessening winds and thickening mists, to keep the ships in contact, however, if the winds freshened, then they would release their lines and sail as a normal flotilla. Usually, when the winds freshened on the inland seas that made up the Middle and Black seas the mists were dispersed.
As the winter chills began to bite into their bones, Drustina checked her twins and smiled as she found them snug as bed-bugs in the shelter of the forward cuddy with Tara lying cuddled up beside them under several thick furs. She smiled down at Tara who every day seemed to be relaxing a bit more as the effects of her newfound freedom sank into her psyche.
“How’re you feeling sis?”
“Cold but happy Dru, Darak says this wind is Admiral of the Russ.”
“How so big sister?”” Drustina frowned.
“There is an oft repeated maxim dear Dru. The Russ have two unbeatable generals named January and February and an admiral who commands both the Baltic and Black seas. That admiral is the East Wind for his weapons are ice and snow. Darak says by tomorrow, we will see Ice in our rigging, mark his words.”
Even as she spoke, Eric had slipped his tether line and came alongside ‘The Mermaid’ to talk.
His words only served to confirm Darak’s prediction. Darak was the Russ pilot who would guide them into the long deep estuary of the River Dnip. Drustina had hired him in Constantinople on the advice of trusted sources. He knew the river route across plains of Russ as far as the River Bug.
“We’d best be slacking the rigging sister,” Eric advised, “for the ice will be upon it come dawn. We Saxons know of these things, Drustina, just as Darak does. Winter in these parts is something you won’t ever have experienced. If we don’t ease the rigging and shorten sail, the ice will snap the lines or worse, topple us as it builds.”
“Is it that bad then?” Drustina asked.
Darak, Eric and Tara nodded for all had experienced the bitter Eastern winters. Drustina took them at their word and followed Eric and Carl’s examples. Before nightfall, the ships were sailing easily under shortened sail to avoid slamming into the waves to form spray and to prevent that spray from accruing as ice atop the rigging, spars and sails.
By morning Drustina saw her first ever signs of Sea Ice. Darak now explained as Carl brought the other ship close enough to call.
“We are getting close to the north shore. That shimmering glare to the north foretells ice. The Ice comes mainly from the fresh water in the rivers. It comes down with the currents so does not usually come out very far before it melts because the sea is normally too warm and salty. In the northern Baltic Sea, the ice forms for months and men walk the journeys though it is dangerous, the ice moves.”
Drustina looked at the shimmering haze that told of large ice flows and she turned to Darak for confirmation. He nodded agreement and the unanimity of her erstwhile Saxon friends agreeing with her pilot reassured her.
“Will that affect us travelling?” She asked Darak.
“Very much so,” he sighed. “The rivers freeze over completely and the delays will keep us in the Russ port until the spring thaw unless you would have us haul our ships along the river ice.”
“Damn!” Drustina cursed. “Still, I have a good relationship with the Russ for I helped them and the Moldova sort out the iniquities of that brute Oraxyis. We should be good for a safe winter stopover and I have funds enough to feed my own crew.”
Carl frowned at this news.
“I’m afraid Eric and I are not so well funded though we have food enough for a month.”
“Then perhaps we can earn our corn.” Drustina added. “When I was here last the Russ had suffered much from Oraxyis’s depredations. I noticed their wharfs and warehouses had suffered much destruction.”
“Yes,” Darak agreed, “they were wooden structures and easily burned or destroyed. That bastard virtually destroyed our town.”
“Well, if we set to with our one hundred strong men, perhaps we can build a stone wharf that endures.”
“Stone is scarce my lady. These lands are all soil and sand. Rich and fertile; yes ... but stone for building is virtually non-existent.”
“Then we can ship stone to and from the nearest mountains, why Byzantium itself is but two or three days away in these ships."
Carl shrugged.
“And we can fetch food as well, but we’ll have to go ashore to determine their needs.”
Drustina smiled.
“You are thinking like a true prince now Carl, a prince who serves his people. Yes, both the Russ and the Moldova will be short of food. The butcher Oraxyis destroyed much. . Fetching grain to feed the hungry is something we have done well before, remember Carthage?”
“And what you brought for the starving Bulgars this last summer. Yes, food from the granaries of Byzantium will serve our interests well.” Carl observed as he turned to Darak.
“Will the river be frozen already?”
“There will still be a narrow channel in the estuary where the current is stronger and mixed with the salt sea but it will be difficult to get alongside. We might have to tie up to the edge of the shore ice.”
“Damn!” Carl cursed. “That will mean lots of fendering and a constant mooring watch.”
Darak nodded more confirmation and Drustina was beginning to feel that her desperation to get home to Britannia might have been a step too early if not a step too far.
“Perhaps we should return to Constantinople.” She wondered aloud.
Darak wagged his head.
“We should be able to break the ice for it won’t be too thick yet. Then we can secure ourselves in one of the ice harbours. These are cuttings set into the river bank where ships can overwinter. The ice is static in the cut-outs and the ships get frozen in without harm to the hulls. If we can’t do that, then we return to Byzantium.”
Drustina seized the opportunity. Her desperation still drove her.
“Okay. We’ll try that.”
As she spoke there was a shout from Eric’s ship which at that point was the lead ship.
“Land, two points, port bow!”
Darak peered out but it was Eric’s masthead lookout who had spotted the land far off. It would be another hour’s sailing before Darak could confirm that the settlement was the town of the Odess, a place that had suffered enormously under Oraxyis’s heel. As they approached, they passed another ship outward bound who gave them a situation report. Odess was still ice free but the river it stood on would soon be frozen. Darak advised them to overwinter in Odess because it was directly facing the sea and there would be no estuary or river navigation from sea to town.
“It will make little difference. It’s only a few hours sail from Odess to the mouth of the Dnip.”
Drustina nodded and noted the smiles of relieved satisfaction from Darak and the two Saxons. It was a sound decision and removed the ships from any danger of damage by the River Dnieper’s notorious ice.
They entered Odess to find a still war damaged town with many of the buildings showing scars from Oraxyis’s depredations. Much of the damage endured because the Russ and some Molvans had little time and even less money to effect repairs. There was little love for the Bulgars and the people had been forced to trade further afield to trade for materials. The problem was that despite the vast richness of the Ukrainian plains much of that year’s harvest had either been stolen or burned by Oraxyis. It would take a full year before the agrarian side of the Russ economy could be recovered and during that year, the people were going hungry. Furthermore, many of their ships had been commandeered by Oraxyis and never returned. Ships big enough and seaworthy enough to trade across the Black sea were scarce and this was also hindering trade.
Drustina and her companions were quickly made aware of this and readily agreed to let their three fast ships be temporarily downgraded to ‘merchant vessels’ to enable the trickle of trade to be improved. These actions endeared them to the Russ who were eternally grateful because it meant the city fathers and tribal leaders could release grain from their meagre stocks sooner on the promise of grain to come sooner than expected.
The equation worked well because of Drustina’s powerful influences back in Byzantium and the three ships became legend during the remainder of that winter as they plied back and forth between Byzantium and Odess. Sadly, Drustina was unable to revisit Irene and Zano because they were far away progressing their tour in the eastern extremities of Byzantium.
As reports of plentiful food in Odess spread into the starving countryside, Russ and Moldovans stumbled into Odess to alleviate their starvations. The warrior queen had much cause to be thankful for the lessons she had learned from Queen Meronee. The Nubian Queen’s wise words echoed through Drustina’s brain like an anthem.
‘Send bread not weapons Drustina, for your subjects will remember your good deeds as well as your bad. More will live if starvation is alleviated and they will live longer to create longer and more enduring memories. Those memories will endear you to your people.’
Those words of wisdom; and others like them would ring through Drustina’s life in the future.
Drustina’s largesse in supplying stone and grain to rebuild the broken city of Odess proved to be a boon for in the following year. As spring approached and she prepared with her Saxon comrades to travel the great Eastern river portage, the tales of her goodliness travelled up the rivers ahead of her as their little flotilla later struggled against the floods of spring thaws. At just about every instance of difficulty, villagers appeared on the banks of the River Dnip and the River Prypiat to assist the craft through shallows and provide Darak with yet more local information of the situations further upstream. From this information Darak expanded his already encyclopaedic knowledge of the Prypiat marshes and because of the subsequent ease of passage afforded by the local peoples, he found much time to explore and learn of the myriad creeks and channels that meandered interminably through the vast Prypiat marshes. On many occasions the expedition was able to forge a new and shorter ‘portage’ across the muddy marshes as local people felt inclined to trust the travellers and show them the truly beneficial routes that would take them to the River Bug and whence via the Vistula to the Baltic Sea. Indeed, thanks to that local knowledge there was very little actual ‘portaging’ to do for in many instances a small channel cut into the slimy ooze of the marshes served to provide a slippery gulley along which the ships could be dragged with much greater ease.
During this portage, the horses, including Drustina’s faithful mare Seripatese, more than earned their corn.
In the heat of the summer the travellers were also grateful for the help offered by the villagers especially as Darak was able to explain the advantages.
While the corn and crops grew in the fields, the villagers and peasants had time to pitch in and offer their much appreciated efforts to drag the boats through the slippery mud. Several times as they laboured in the slimy ooze, Drustina let her flights of fancy fly.
“We should build a canal here Darak, so that ships may ply from Baltic to Black seas without hindrance.”
“But how would we defeat the slopes and different levels?” Darak challenged.
Drustina explained.
“The marshes are essentially flat and the changes of level are very small.”
She went on to explain about the locks on the Pharoic canal at Memphis and Darak listened fascinated as did several of the village elders and tribal elders. The idea was much applauded but Drustina did not stay to see it built. Nor in her lifetime, did she ever hear of it being built. Though the local people could readily see that if a more permanent trade route could be established through their lands, it would improve their lot.
Another aspect of Drustina’s journey was the lack of danger thanks to her earlier acts of magnanimity. Despite the travellers being well armed for protection, Drustina’s expedition was probably the first large portage conducted by entirely peaceful traders without recourse to threat or violence. Once again, Drustina had cause to thank Queen Meronee for her wise words. Her expedition had proved so successful that when they finally arrived in the city of Brest, Darak was sorry to bid them farewell. This was the first large settlement on the Polish River Bug.
After they had paid their respects and demonstrated their peaceful intentions to the Polish city burghers, they finally secured their travel worn craft to some safe moorings the riverfront. For several days they enjoyed excellent hospitality as the good people of Brest heeded what the travellers had to tell of their incredible voyage by water and mud. Sadly their stay had to end; Drustina was hell-bent on returning to her beloved Lleyn.
Firstly of course, there was the separation between Darak and the expedition. With a heavy heart, Darak prepared to return home the following summer whence he had come. He knew he would miss Drustina terribly but he now had enough local knowledge and local contacts to earn an excellent living as a ‘portage master’ guiding traders along the newly developed route. Amidst tears of comradeship and friendship he prepared to bid Drustina and her companions farewell as they set forth north and west downstream to the mighty river Vistula and eventually to the Baltic. Darak would eventually return east and south to Odess as soon as a new trade mission of Polish and Saxon traders could be formed to open up the trade. Darak expected that he would overwinter in Brest and lead the mission the following year.
It was now Autumn and because Drustina’s reputation had preceded her, they were relieved to be accepted as peaceful traders. The burghers of Brest had issued letters of pratique that would serve them as far as Warsaw. With the river Bug now assisting them they made fast time to Warsaw where they joined with the River Vistula. Drustina was detained by the king who made light of her urgency and demanded that she tarry awhile and tell of her adventures. On their first night in the city, the king made it his business to pump her of as much news as he could garner.
“You are famous maid. I have reports of your adventures coming to me with almost every caravan of traders that passes through our kingdom but especially those who come from the South from Rome and the Germanic tribes from the west. Now you come from the east with three ships no less and this after having dragged them through the dreadful Prypiat Marshes. That route has been virtually closed to us since the Bulgar wars with Byzantium.”
“Well it’s true your majesty,” Drustina admitted modestly. “The route should be opened again soon. Darak the Russ is organising a new trade mission as we speak. The lands of the Russ and the Moldovans are now peaceful.”
“And that, as I am told often by the Caravansary who have travelled through Carparthia; was entirely down to you.”
“No sir. It was down to an excellent Byzantine general called Zano.”
“But the Carpathians, the Russ and the Moldovans all speak of you. They call you many things; The Warrior Queen, the Lion of Carthage, The Wise Old Crocodile of the Nile, and I’ve even got reliable reports of your adventures in Iberia.”
“Of those titles your majesty they are but names. The Russ and the Moldovans speak of me only because my campaign relieved them directly from Oraxyis’s heel. It was Zano, who’s defeat of the main Bulgar army, that finally put paid to the Bulgar expansions and predations. He married the Byzantine Empress Irene and serves as her consort. He is a remarkable man who sets law and justice above his own ambition. Hence his wife still rules as sovereign.”
The king’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Sovereign you say! A woman as empress and sovereign, his wife no less? Then truly he is a remarkable man.”
“Yes. A man and a soldier that I grew to love and respect. You would do well to entreat with him for he is brave, honest and truthful and he abides by his treaties. His wife the empress hangs weightily on his judgement. Our previous guide, Darak of Odess, knows them well and will serve well as your emissary. He still rests in your provincial city of Brest where he recruits for a trade mission next spring or summer. You would do well to add a royal ambassador and diplomats to that trade mission and give it a proper governmental status. Darak has done much to smooth the passage.”
“As have you dear maid, though to listen to you, one would think you have done nothing. People like you are scarce, no wonder your men worship you... And yet my informers tell me you are just a score and two years old.”
“Yes, your majesty, I am but two and twenty years so perhaps a little less of the ‘Wise OLD Crocodile’.”
Her emphasis on the word ‘old’ set the king into gales of laughter. Finally he recovered himself and asked her of the other names.
“So tell me then, how came you by such names?”
Drustina would have shrugged but such a response might have seemed pretentious or condescending. Instead she stood silent waiting for the king to say more. It was an action that impressed him still further. He ended the meeting and dismissed his courtiers as he invited Drustina and Tara to join him privately at supper.
“Come we have much to talk about, let us do it over supper in the privacy of my chambers.”
Once in his private chambers he relaxed and threw off his courtly robes with an obvious sigh of relief. Tara glanced nervously towards her sister for this sort of action usually presaged some sort of salacious advance. Her years as an exotic performer had honed her wits to such dangers. As Tara prepared for some sort of ugliness she watched her sister simply settle into a large chair and sit opposite the king in front of the large fire that warmed his chambers.
“So your majesty, what do you wish to speak of?” Drustina asked.
Drustina’s words reassured her sister slightly. Normally, women grew tense in such circumstances unless they were of their own instigation and the woman intended for some action of her own choosing. Drustina had followed the king to his chambers without a seeming thought for her own safety and settled down to discuss whatever the king had in mind just as two men would have done. Tara became curious, it was a side to her sister she had not yet seen. Complete confidence in the presence of a man’s private chambers. Tara had always considered such chambers to be ‘lairs’. Now, unexpectedly, she felt secure. It was a feeling not entirely unassisted by the soft clunk of Drustina’s polished Toledo sword tip that rested on the flagstone floor as she sat with the sword still in its ceremonial hilt fastener. Her sister/brother was still armed and Tara had seen that sword arm practicing its skills with fully armed male companions like the Saxon companions Eric and Carl. Tara felt safe. The Polish king seemed entirely at ease and didn’t even seem to balk at the fact that Drustina was armed and he was not.
Tara had never shared the company of kings and she sat wonderingly as she slowly realised this was not some salacious invite to some bacchanalian orgy but a genuine talk about affairs of state. Tara felt she had little to offer and she offered to leave but Drustina reached out, gently pressed on Tara’s arm and smiled.
“No sister. If you stay with me, and I hope you will, then you must learn of such things. His majesty obviously has concerns to declare and if they are to affect our journey then we should know of them.”
“And affect you they most certainly will my young queen.”
Drustina was about to object to the seeming promotion but the king swept her words aside before she could express them.
“No! You are a warrior queen. My sources tell me that every man that follows you worships you and would fight to the death for you.”
Drustina paused then changed the subject. It would seem by objecting to his praises that she was perversely or inversely seeking more praise. Her next question went straight to practicalities.
“So what of these perils to our journey?”
The king looked concerned.
“There is trouble in the north of our kingdom.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Trouble you will be well familiar with.”
Drustina stared hard at the king.
“Well sire, please don’t keep me guessing. I have been familiar with many different types of trouble in my short life.”
The king answered with one word.
“Piracy.”
After considering the reply, Drustina asked.
“By whom?”
“That’s just it. We can’t be sure.”
“You must have some idea; some sort of evidence; a body, some weapons, a prisoner even.”
The king frowned.
“It’s not that easy Drustina, they move quickly and they invariably move by night. My subjects to the north swear that they are spirits. They appear from nowhere at the dead of night and attack single ships. Little or no noise, just a single brief attack and then quickly into the night. They steal what they can from the single victim ship, drown the crew and steal the ship or burn it. Traders are being forced to convoy but that is inconvenient and ships are beginning to avoid our ports.”
“Have these pirates attacked any towns or cities? Have they advanced up the river Vistula?”
“No. They are very clever. They appear only at night and move silently and swiftly.”
“Has anybody ever come back to tell of their tactics?”
“No. The only evidence has been a single blackened hull that fetched up near the Hel spit and some bodies floating inshore.”
Drustina listened as the king went into greater detail, describing the nature of the coast, the names of the towns and the shallowness of the waters in that area. He produced some maps of the area and Drustina sucked thoughtfully on her knuckles as she considered the quality of the charts. They were nothing like as good as the Roman charts of the middle sea.
“Are these accurate.”
“The land is,” the king conceded, “but the seaward parts are mainly guesses except for the prominent points and the townships.”
“So Gdyn and Gdan are approximately right?” She checked.
He nodded apologetically.
“We’ve never had need for sea charts. We are mainly a land based agrarian country.”
“But the people on the coast; do they not fish?”
“Close inshore, yes. The Baltic Sea has been the hunting grounds of the Norsemen for centuries. Mainly the Russ tribes and they are mostly an offshoot of the Sven.”
“Do you not trade with the Russ?”
“They are not welcome, the history has been hundreds of years of Norsemen raiding and then retreating. We are a large nation and very powerful so we could always defeat them on the shores. Eventually, they more or less gave up on raiding our towns, it was costing them too much in warriors and soldiers. They moved on further up the Baltic and invaded the more eastern lands. That’s why the country further east is called Russ. The Sven tribesmen settled there and gave it their name.”
Drustina nodded slowly.
“D’you think these pirates are Russ?”
“No. We think they must have a base nearer to Gdan but we have no idea where or who they are.”
“But they don’t attack the towns?”
“No. Our coastal towns are all fortified.”
“Hmmm,” Drustina sucked thoughtfully on the handle of her dagger that she was using as a pointer on the chart.
“And it’s the fishing boats they go for.”
“No,” the king corrected her, “I said our people mainly fish inshore. It’s the trading ships that get attacked; sometimes just after they’ve just left Gdan or Gdyn but more usually as they are arriving and ignorant of the piracy. Those trading ships are mostly Norse or Saxon. That’s why we believe the pirates are not Russ. The Russ are brothers to the Norsemen but they trade to the East of Danmark.”
“If the victims are Saxon and Norse then they cannot be easy targets.” Drustina observed. “The Norse and Saxons are pretty mean customers who are well able to defend themselves.”
“That’s why we think there is some sort of subterfuge and I personally suspect that somebody in Gdan or Gdyn is in league with the Pirates.”
“Hmmm. It makes sense. Have you tried to apprehend anybody?”
The king nodded dispiritedly.
“They are very cunning; I’m convinced they have some sort of assistance on the inside of either of those two ports. It seems that every ship that has trade with our ports risks some sort of predation unless they are convoyed.”
Drustina studied the chart thoughtfully.
“What about other ships, not going to Gdan or Gdyn?”
“Not in the Gulf of Dantrick my lady. These are the revenue posts for all ships trading in that area. Every ship has to declare its goods at either of the cities.”
“What even ships entering the Vistula?”
The king nodded and exchanged a knowing glance with Drustina as she remarked.
“So it’s obvious that the Pirate’s spy is in either of those two cities.”
“We know that,” the king agreed somewhat impatiently, “but the question is who. Both ports are very cosmopolitan cities and many different trading houses operate there from many different countries. It’s almost impossible to pin down a spy without a lot of undue force. We don’t want to restrict the trading. It’s the freedom enjoyed in those ports that has created so much wealth and trade.”
“Yes but do not all the trading houses operate in only one part of the city?” Drustina asked.
“Yes. We call it ‘The Compound’. The trading and exchanges take place there but if taxable goods are then to be entered into this kingdom, they are taxed at the gates of the compound.
“What of other activities? Money trading, precious metals and high grade artisans like say diamond cutting.”
“You’re anticipating me Drustina. You obviously know something of trade. Where did you learn of this? Normally our trading houses and money dealings are men’s affairs.”
Drustina gave the King a weary look.
“You know my history your majesty. I was born a boy, besides, I was born to trade. My people built ships and traded them for copper and other precious metals hewn from the mountains of Mon and Orm in my homeland Cymru. My own ship carried Bullion from Cymru to Carthage but only two of us knew of it; my sister Queen Mabina of Portua and of course, me. I split the gold to use as a dowry for my beloved sisters. I did not know that my other sister Tara still lived at that time.”
The king shook his head.
“Your story still amazes me Drustina. Every time we talk of things you come up with another remarkable aside. You’re now telling me your little ship carried gold across the great sea of Atlantis.”
“Well not exactly across,” Drustina corrected him. “Nobody knows where ‘across’ is when applied to that immensity. All we know is that if the waves are anything to tell then it is vast ... endless even. My sisters and I sailed with the little Demetae girl Arina from Cymru to Iberia that’s sort of along the edge of the great sea of Atlantis. But enough of my adventures, how do we tackle these pirates.”
“First we must find them.” The king offered.”
“Yes,” Drustina agreed, “So apart from finding their spies; the other action is to find the pirates lair ... or lairs, and smash them.”
“That would be my preferred option,” the king replied, “some concrete action to send a clear message to any other would-be freebooters.”
“But still we begin with gathering intelligence that might lead to locating the pirate lairs.” Drustina surmised.
“That’s the rub. So far there have been no survivors of any of the attacks. These pirates are ruthless and lethal.”
“I’m presuming though that their forces are small.”
“Why d’you think that?” The king wondered.
“Firstly they avoid convoys; that implies they are but a few ships. Secondly, they would have trouble hiding a large fleet of pirate ships. Thirdly they are keeping their identity and location well hidden. This implies that a few tight-lipped and loyal individuals are operating the piracy.”
“So d’you have any ideas; how we flush them out.”
“Firstly change your tactics; that is change your mode of operations. That will force them to change their tactics and that leaves room for mistakes as they have to re-adjust their methods.”
“And how can we change our modus operandi?”
“Well, like I asked before. Allow ships to bypass the two revenue ports, let them sail undeclared and unpublicised. That will add two extra risks to the pirate’s operation.
Firstly, they will have to widen their web of informers to include undeclared departures from the Vistula and other smaller ports in the Danzig Bay. Their greed will drive them to try and locate any ships trying to sneak away from a small jetty or quay without being noticed. That will force them to expand their spy ring.
Secondly there will be undeclared ships passing through the waters of the bay and they might come upon an act of piracy as it is ongoing. They might be able to lend assistance to the victim and even prevent the piracy from going ahead. That will surely cause the Pirates to adjust their tactics.”
“There are no guarantees though, are there? There’s no certainty of capturing one of the pirate vessels.” The king offered despairingly.
“No, but it increases the odds very favourably in our name. The pirates will never be sure if there are other legitimate ships trading nearby.”
The king chewed the idea over and slowly nodded his head.
“It means lost customs revenue and that’s certain, but the losses will be constrained to a few bags of money.”
“I’m not so sure,” Drustina sucked her finger pensively. “Firstly we need only risk cargoes of low or moderate value while high value cargoes remain convoyed. We’re still going to have to be well armed though, because we have no idea of their modus-operandi. We might have to attack or even defend from long range or fight them hand to hand. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The first stage is to find out more about them without loss to our own forces.
“So what d’you suggest then?”
“Gather intelligence; force them to change their operation by secreting ‘our own spies, scouts and warriors’ into hidey-holes around the compound.”
“That will take manpower. Lots of soldiers. A hundred even. Tempus fugit.”
“Indeed it does, especially if I hope to escape this year’s winter ice before the midwinter solstice. However, by happy accident I just happen to have something in the order of two hundred souls who have either accompanied me all the way from Byzantium, or joined with us as we passed through villages and towns. You’d be surprised at the number of adventurous young men who have decided to join us and make their own way, not to mention a few maids. My reputation as a warrior queen encouraged them to join us and I suspect their fathers were glad to be rid of them. Of the two hundred or so of my band there are perhaps a score of women and a dozen children, including my own two and my beloved mare Seripatese.
“And that in three ships.” The king summed up.
“Well now it’s four ships your majesty. While we have tarried here in Warsaw, my men have purchased timber and built a fourth. You’d be surprised how quickly one hundred and fifty men can build a ship.”
“I’m impressed Drustina, perhaps I can add a ship to that number and increase our chances of finding these dammned murderers.”
“Better you didn’t your majesty. The band that follows me are all foreign to the lands of Pola. If we accepted anybody from Warsaw, then the probability is that one of them might be yet another spy for the pirates. Who knows how wide their net spreads?” The men I share this expedition with are men I have good reason to trust. We have shared much hardship and much comradeship as well as much pleasure. I trust them.”
Again the king nodded. ‘It was good to deal and treat with this famous maid. She spoke true and she was direct not to mention shrewd.’ He nodded agreeably and indicated that he was tired and wished for bed.
Tara tensed slightly for in her experience this was usually the time when salacious suggestions were made. Often in seeming jest but with the inevitable undertones of predation. This time however, to Tara’s immense relief, the words meant what the king said. He was ready for bed and neither of the sisters would be joining him. Drustina’s Toledo Blade brought that certainty of equality and respect. Tara envied her sister/brother that liberty to treat equally with all.
Drustina paid her respects to the king, glanced briefly towards Tara and they retired to their own chamber. Once abed, Tara pumped her younger sibling.
“I don’t get it. I wouldn’t have dreamt of trusting a man alone, in his own bedroom or apartments. How did you know he was only interested in affairs of state ... this piracy thing?”
Drustina shrugged.
“I didn’t know it was piracy. I just knew he had something on his mind. He was distracted at the dinner. That’s how kings ... oh and queens ... oh and empresses are. I’ve seen it before. There’s always something to occupy them, if it isn’t a threat to their lives, it's something affecting their country or their country’s security. I’ve been around kings and queens too dammned long.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it. So how would you solve this piracy thing?”
“Well, we certainly need a lot more intelligence, more information.”
“And how do we get that?”
“Pretend to be traders. The new ship the men are building is much bigger than the other two and bigger again than The Angry Mermaid. It will be finished in a week then we can sail downriver separately making sure we actually leave the river and enter the Danzig bay in darkness; even on different days if necessary. We can go in The Mermaid first and layover for a couple of days in Gdynia. We can make some pretence about having a valuable cargo concerning the King’s business and let it filter out into the trading community. I was pretty adept at flushing out spies and stuff in Carthaginia when I helped organise the guerrilla campaign. It just takes alertness and a quick eye to spot the shifty characters. Once I’ve got some sort of lead I can slip back to the mouth of the Vistula during darkness. Then we can rendezvous somewhere near the river’s mouth and organise our tactics. It will be best if we can lay some sort of trap; the Mermaid will be ideal as bait. She can play the ‘broken wing’ trick.”
Tara listened with fascination as Drustina elaborated on techniques and tricks to use when sowing rumours and feeding information.
“For example sis, you casually meet me in a restaurant or bar and ask me if I’ve got some extra cargo to fill our ship and I can say yes or no. Just simple information like that can flush out the spies. I know, I’ve done it.”
“Can you tell me more?” Tara pleaded.
Drustina sighed wearily and snuggled under the blanket.
“Not tonight sis. I’m tired. I’ve got my twins all day tomorrow because the two nannies want a day off to go shopping in the main market. I promised them a day off. Now go to sleep.”
Tara reluctantly fell silent and soon the sisters were cuddled up. Drustina found it strange to be cuddled up to a very attractive girl and yet feel no unsavoury urges. The fact that they were sisters put paid to any salacious curiosity. Drustina was puzzled that just simply knowing Tara was her sister was enough to stop all thoughts of intimacy dead in their tracks. It seemed as if there was some sort of sublimal, unconscious barrier ticking away in her brain. Soon they fell asleep closely spooned together and woke in virtually the same positions at dawn.
PS. Comments are always welcome.
This chapter describes Drustina's stratergy to discover the pirates and then defeat them. In the end, she captures them.
The Angry Mermaid 46.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
A week after talking to the king of Pola, the new ship was ready. The captain was elected from amongst Drustina’s band and Urthos the Gaul was chosen. Eric and Carl could both vouch for him for they were present as galley slaves in another galley when Urthos’s ship was captured. He had put up a terrific fight and the Barbary admiral had been impressed so he offered to spare his life and make him a galley slave. Later after they were freed by the Iberians, Carl had asked him why he hadn’t chosen death. Urthos had answered that he had a wife and child back in Gaul and he would never give up hope of seeing them again unless he died. Drustina could understand Urthos’s view. With Drustina it was all about recovering her family’s lands, with Urthos it was about recovering his family. As it had been for many other wanderers and adventurers, Drustina’s expedition from Byzantium had provided Urthos with a perfect opportunity to get back to Gaul without running the gauntlet of the Middle Sea and whatever animosities might cause problems on the long passage back to Gaul..
Secondly, to have tried to return to Gaul as a single individual working his passage from Constantinople through the Middle Sea all the way to Marsa at the mouth of the River Rhone would have been a very high risk journey.
He had a much better chance among a large band of adventurers and traders. He also had worked particularly hard during the rigours of the Prypiat Portage and Drustina concluded the vote had thrown up a good man to be captain of the new, fourth ship.
The little flotilla was deemed ready so after many preparations and plans, Drustina slipped away first to arrive in Gdyn several days before the following trio of ships. They had prepared to rendezvous back in the estuary of the Vistula at a prearranged time. By that time Drustina hoped she would have had some concrete information.
In the bilges of The Angry Mermaid Drustina had secreted several ingots of copper painted to resemble gold. At a distance they would appear to be gold to any curious eyes looking from the quay.
Additionally, The Angry Mermaid also carried some dressed stone from the quarries near Warsaw. This was to give the Mermaid the appearance of being heavily laden thus making her slow and clumsy.
The crew of The Mermaid ensured no visitors were allowed aboard to add to the mystery concerning the cargo and the voyage. When they arrived in Gdyn, Drustina presented her royal letters of marque to the ports’ Burgomasters. The king’s signature endowed her with freedom from taxes so she and the Angry Mermaid were immediately allowed access to the trading compound and the duty free quay. This privilege alone drew immediate attention to her visit for not everybody arrived in Gdyn with a royal letter of marque. After presenting her credentials to the custom house Drustina immediately set about looking for an additional cargo to get the Angry Mermaid ‘full and down’.
As her ‘final destination’ was meant to take her ship out of the Baltic and onwards to the ‘Western Seas’ she had a wide choice of cargoes and after examining some charters she retired to her ship to discuss her thoughts with her sister Tara and the mate, Horus the Egyptian boat-builder’s son who had accompanied her all the way from Alexandria.
“So what’s the plan,” Tara asked quietly to avoid inquisitive ears from overhearing their conversations.
“Well we need a high value cargo that doesn’t take much space for The Mermaid will already be pretty low in the water. The idea is that when she departs, she looks slow and clumsy but the high value cargo will attract the pirate’s interest. Once we clear the port we can ditch the low value cargo and bring her up to her fighting weight and speed.”
“Seems a pity to ditch dressed stone,” Horus remarked. Why not leave it ashore when we rendezvous with the others in the estuary of the Vistula. They are carrying stone as well to add to a new quay the king is planning in Tzew, the town just above the estuary. If we alter the Mermaid’s name and rig, nobody will recognise her because we passed down the river at night.”
“Good thinking Horus, we’ll do that. We originally planned to ditch it, but selling it is a far better idea. We’ll also get some good money for the stone because it’s already dressed.”
The next day Drustina returned to the trading exchange and contracted to carry an expensive shipment of Amber to the City of Kalin just across the bay.
This was an ideal cargo and charter because it took The Angry Mermaid across the whole bay of Danzig and close to just about every possible location where the pirates might have a lair. Meanwhile, Horus had played his part by going ashore and seemingly getting drunk in the bars.
When Drustina met him later at a prearranged bar, he listened to her voyage plans and spoke loudly of the preparations they would need. He spoke loudly to sound drunk and used his first mate’s status to discuss the ship’s preparations. Drustina ‘tried’ to quieten him but it was all part of the subterfuge. Horus loudly slurred his words.
“We’ll have to go shlowly. She’s heavily laden with shtone and that Amber ish an expensive cargo. We should get a good price in Kalin!”
Drustina flashed an angry look and cast around nervously as she appeared to scold Horus.
“Hist man. D’you want everybody to know our business? Come on; let’s get out of here before everybody in bloody Gdyn knows our affairs!”
Horus ‘staggered’ to his feet and Drustina supported him like some patient partner well used and inured to her partner’s drunken antics. However, under the drunken facade they carefully studied the two priests who had followed Drustina into the bar. Drustina turned despairingly to the holy men and lamented her partner’s behaviour.
“He always gets like this before a voyage but he’s a dammned good seaman. Once we are on passage and he sobers up, he’ll be okay and we’ll be on our way. It’s going to be a slow passage though. We’re heavily laden.”
“Do you want our blessings?” The older priest asked.
“That would be nice. We’ll be leaving in the morning after the Amber is delivered to us for transport.”
Drustina knew she would be expected to pay the priests for a blessing but she also knew that priests tended to be garrulous and would quite possibly talk about The Angry mermaid’s plans. If the news wasn’t already all around the compound, it soon would be. A totally strange ship that was slow and heavily laden with stone plus an additional valuable consignment of amber would be a perfect victim. There could hardly be a richer and easier prize for the pirates.
With the morning came the amber accompanied by an escort and this was followed by two rapacious priests. After the Amber was loaded next to the rumoured ‘gold’, Drustina smiled to herself with satisfaction as she noted the glint of avarice that betrayed the priest’s intentions when they noticed the briefly exposed treasure. She paid her coin for a blessing then the crew ate a meal before setting sail while the priests could hardly contain their excitement as they scuttled away trying not to expose their impatience to inform the pirates.
“I never did trust priests,” Drustina muttered softly to Horus and Tara as they chewed their food.
“Come on then let’s be away and make every appearance of being a slow, clumsy, dangerously overloaded ship.” Horus replied as he finished his food.
The well prepared crew did just that and The Angry Mermaid departed from Gdyn making every appearance of a poorly crewed and badly handled barge. Even Seripatese contributed to the image as she staggered and caused the Mermaid to roll perilously close to a seeming total capsize. This set up a false shout of despair from the supposedly incompetent crew and greedy eyes watched hungrily as they anticipated an easy night’s pickings. Already a fast horse was galloping out through Gdyn’s north gate to tell of the intended victim.
However, as darkness fell, The Mermaid did not steer ENE to Kalin but instead steered SE back to the estuary of the Vistula and the prearranged rendezvous with her three sister ships. On meeting the other ships in Tzew they quickly discharged the stone the following day and turned a considerable profit. With all four ships relieved of their burdens of stone, the flotilla was now a highly mobile and well armed force. Any pirates stupid enough to attack them would receive a fatal shock. As the sun set, four silent shadowy shapes slid silently down the Vistula and into the bay to spread out so as each ship was just in sight of an arrow fired flare. This covered a span of some forty to fifty miles, virtually the depth and width of the Bay of Gdania. It didn’t take long for the pirates to take the bait. The flotilla was deliberately sailing very slowly playing the ‘broken wing’ trick and The Angry Mermaid was holding the western pivotal hinge.
In the dead of night, as The Mermaid virtually drifted under minimal sail, Arina heard the soft lapping of a bow wave as an unknown craft was making way through the darkness. It was showing a single light which thus gave The Mermaid’s crew no indication of speed or course. Drustina behaved as any conventional ship would. She took off what little remaining way there was and The Mermaid sat still in the water. Then there was a woman’s voice calling.
At first nobody could make out the words but as the unidentified craft ghosted closer they could finally make sense of the high pitched screams for assistance. Drustina, Arina and Horus exchanged knowing glances and silently motioned the crew to their allotted battle stations. Even if it was a genuine distress, no harm would ensue. Then as the cries for help grew distinct and clear, Horus called back. They chose to use a man’s voice to make The Angry Mermaid, seem as an ordinary vessel with a man for a captain
“What ails you?” Horus bellowed.
A man’s voice would not raise the approaching ship’s suspicions and the ruse worked. The strange ship approached steadily as the woman’s voice explained that they had some injured crew and was there anybody who could render assistance.
Drustina shared a knowing nod with Arina and Horus as they agreed. The stranger could be using this ploy to get close enough to board them under the pretence of transferring somebody off The Mermaid who might have medical knowledge or transferring their injured crewmember onto Drustinas’ ship.
“Let them approach,” Drustina instructed Horus as she prepared to set sail and sweep around the approaching ship to put it between her and her companions, Carl, Eric and Urthos whose ships lay to the south of The Angry Mermaid.
Horus invited the stranger to come in closer then explained it would be better if the approaching ship came around to the Starboard side where there were better facilities to transfer the injured man. Thus had The Angry Mermaid prepared a trap if the distressed vessel was a pirate-ship.
With a practice born of long voyages together, the Mermaid’s crew stood silently to their stations as the ‘distressed’ vessel cautiously followed Horus’s request to manoeuvre to the southern, starboard side. This manoeuvre also put the Mermaid upwind and thus able to hold the manoeuvrability advantage. Drustina and Horus watched the ship like hawks then to their delight, there was a short break in the rain clouds and the moon briefly illuminated the other ship.
Drustina gave a soft growl as she noted the other ship’s high freeboard and slender lines.
“She’s no merchantman!”
“No, she certainly isn’t,” Horus agreed, “so what now milady?”
“Let her come closer, Drustina ordered as she eased her own rudder to spill more wind from her sails. The more ‘becalmed’ the Mermaid looked the more tempting a target she became. Soon the Mermaid was virtually stopped and the ‘distressed’ vessel approached even closer. It was only as a second shaft of moonlight silhouetted the other vessel’s officers, that Drustina recognised the profile. There was no mistaking the unique and memorable nose of the priest she had met in the tavern the previous night. Urgently, Drustina tugged furiously at Tara’s arm as her older sister steered the ship with long remembered skills from her days sailing around Lleyn and Fon.
“Keep her about ten to fifteen fathoms off for about half an hour while we edge closer to Carl and Eric, let’s get these people further out into the bay so that they will find it harder to duck for cover if they really are pirates. We stay just far enough apart as to prevent them boarding en-masse.”
Tara nodded as the rest of the crew, led by Horus, waited patiently, hidden behind the gunwales. Horus shouted across the closing gap.
“We need to check you out. It has been reported that there may be pirates in the vicinity. I am going to fire a fire arrow into the sky to illuminate your ship. Are you agreeable to that?”
In truth, the fire arrow was a signal to Eric and Carl to close with The Angry Mermaid. It was a single arrow for if it had been two arrows, Eric and Carl would have answered it and Drustina did not yet want to give the game away. The priest’s vessel agreed to the arrow and the bright light from the arrow flew high into the air. The other vessel showed a large covered cargo of what looked like bags covered with a tarpaulin. It gave the ship every appearance of being a loaded merchant vessel and there were few signs of a crew except for a couple of smallish figures attending to the ship and the group of what Drustina presumed to be officers standing at the stern.
“She looks honest, I’ll grant her that.” Horus smiled cynically.
“Yeah, but what’s under that tarpaulin?” Tara replied.
Drustina nodded her own suspicions and measured the closing gap with an experienced eye as she turned to Horus.
“That’s close enough, run a parallel course for a while until we can see Eric or Carl approaching.”
This done they stood off for a while until the other ship became impatient and a shout came over the narrow gap.
“Our injured crewmember is failing, he needs help.”
Horus stalled then shouted across.
“Our doctor is preparing a place for him. We won’t be much longer; we do not have much space on this vessel.”
This seemed to placate the other vessel and they proceeded thus for a short while longer. Then the lookout in the bow spotted the anticipated reinforcements. He signalled silently to Drustina that Erics’ ship was approaching. Drustina spoke to Horus.
“Pretend you think that Eric’s ship is a pirate and call their attention to it. See what happens.”
Horus grinned; a sudden, unexpected change in circumstances would surely cause the pirates to react one way or another. Horus called across.
“Beware, there is another vessel approaching from the south! They might be the pirates that are believed to be operating around here.”
The priest had been watching The Angry Mermaid and failed to spot Eric’s ship as it sped towards them. Now the situation was critical. As he located the approaching third vessel it was obvious it meant business. He cursed and swung the tiller to bring his ship close to The Mermaid as he shouted at the covered the ‘cargo’. When they were less than five fathoms apart, the tarpaulin was swept aside and suddenly two score of heads appeared fully armed. For an answer, a score of heads appeared from behind the gunwales of The Angry Mermaid and the pirates realised they had a fight. What they hadn’t expected was the sudden surge of speed from The Mermaid that took her away from their approach and presented her high stern that prevented the pirates from any hope of boarding her.
The sudden and unexpected action by the priest had betrayed their intentions and Drustina deemed it proper to fire first. This she did by ordering a salvo of fire arrows to be fired at the pirate. Her crew quickly ignited their arrows with the precious flint and pyrites then within seconds a bank of ignited arrows appeared as if by magic, primed and drawn to be fired. There was a curse from the larger vessel and it turned clumsily to make an escape but it was too late. Eric’s vessel was now approaching from the pirate’s starboard quarter while further off; Carl was closing to shut down an escape to the South east. Even further off, Urthos was now heaving into view and the pirate priest finally realised he had fallen into a well prepared trap. With a most ungodly curse he took a knife and plunged it into his own heart. The crew of the Angry Mermaid stared stupidly as the man crumpled to the deck. Tara turned to Drustina and asked.
“Are they all as crazy as him?”
Drustina shrugged.
“He probably thought we were going to execute him anyway. I’m more concerned about all those other crew members. Don’t forget, we’re still outnumbered.” She turned to Horus.
“Hail them again, ask if they’re prepared to surrender; tell them we’ll give them quarter.”
“We’d best wait until the others get here Ma-am. Then there’s no risk. Remember you’ve got your children still hidden in the bow cuddy.”
Drustina considered Horus’s caution and smiled inwardly. A year ago she would have plunged in full tilt and given no quarter, now, she had unconsciously and unwittingly hesitated. She asked herself if it had been the presence of her own children and silently admitted to herself it probably was.
‘What it was to be a mother,’ she wondered and turned thoughtfully towards the bow where Tara had already gone to check the toddler twins. Then her thoughts were returned to the immediate situation when there was an answering shout to Horus’s powerful bellow. To everybody’s surprise it was a woman’s voice. The high, reedy voice cried back nervously. Fear cracked her articulation and it was obvious to all on The Mermaid that the woman was terrified.
“What quarter d’you offer us?” The woman cried.
Horus turned questioningly to Drustina for all on The Mermaid had recognised the woman’s fear.
“Perhaps you’d better answer Ma-am, you know, a woman’s voice ...”
Drustina nodded and called back.
“If you accept surrender I will give you my word that you will not be harmed. I am Drustina of the Gangani Celts, child of Caderyn, who is child of Erin. I am captain here and I give you my oath you will not be harmed.”
The woman seemed to hesitate then turned to another second figure of similar size. They talked briefly and by their gesticulations it was obvious they were arguing. Drustina became suspicious and ordered her men to re-ignite their arrows. This show of force brought an immediate response. The woman screamed fearfully.
“Mercy!! Do not burn us!”
“Then ask for quarter. You have ten seconds and look to your south. You will see that our companions have also drawn their fire bows.”
There was a brief furious argument then two figures overpowered the second figure and the first voice called again.
“We will take quarter but beg you do not harm us.”
Drustina became a little angry at their doubting her word and called across impatiently.
“Do you doubt the word of the Lioness of Carthage, for it is her tail you have pulled and I am she! Now. Identify yourselves!”
“And explain why you are all wearing black to hide your faces!” Horus added for good measure.
Drustina nodded her acknowledgement to Horus. She had forgotten to ensure there were no surprises. The men automatically drew their bows as the crew of pirates refused to show their faces.. For a brief moment Drustina’s crew were tense but Drustina was made of sterner stuff. She had faced danger many times before and even the sudden appearance of forty pirates did not un-nerve her. They did not have bows and Drustina knew The Mermaid was a faster, more manoeuvrable craft. Drustina had also realised the other ship was prepared for boarding, not for a ‘long-range’ fire-fight. Once again, in those few brief instants, Drustina had weighed up the situation and determined her advantage.
She ordered her men to slacken their bows. This action obviously relieved the other woman who ordered her crew to sheath their swords. Horus shouted at them to unbelt their swords and after a brief nod from the woman who appeared to have been second in command, the whole pirate crew unbuckled their sword belts. Drustina smiled at Horus.
“My God Horus, they seem keen to surrender. What sort of pirates are these who surrender without a fight?”
Horus chuckled and shrugged.
“We’ll soon find out Ma-am. Look, Carl and Eric are closing quickly.”
“Tell them to stand off. She’s our prize.”
“But Carl has the rowing boat. He can send men to investigate.”
“Tell him to send the boat for me. I will check this pirate ship myself. There’s something odd about that crew. Why do they fear exposure more than being burned to death with fire arrows?
“Shall we wait until daylight Ma-am?” Horus suggested. “Look, Dawn approaches.”
“Hmmm. Good idea Horus. Yes, we’ll wait. When it’s light enough, I’ll satisfy my own curiosity then you can tell her to follow us to Kalin we’ll make it by noon even with her slower speed.”
“What! Are you saying you’ll board her alone?” Horus protested.
“Well, they won’t take me hostage Horus. My sword will see to that. Besides, there will be four ships marking her card.”
“What makes you so confident?” Horus pressed.
Drustina smiled a little condescendingly then tapped her nose.
“That crew, Horus; I believe they’re all women.” Drustina whispered. “That’s why they were loath to show their faces. Their head covers look like nun’s habits.”
Horus peered thoughtfully then turned with a grin to Drustina.
“My God ma-am, I believe you are right. It’s hard to tell by their stature because there are no men for comparison.”
“Exactly; the only man amongst them has just killed himself. It’s only when I remembered the difference between that suicidal priest and the other officers that I realised. He was not a particularly tall man yet he towered over all those black crows seemingly flocking around him. The only explanation is that they are all women. Look carefully at how they move.”
Horus studied them briefly then nodded.
“I believe you are right. Unless it’s some sort of trap. You know, they are the bait but hidden even lower there are men.”
“Well we’ll see soon enough. Here comes Carl with the boat.”
Carl slid the little ‘jolly-boat’ alongside The Mermaid’s quarter and Drustina clambered down a knotted rope to join him. She explained her suspicions and Carl grinned.
“You always were a crazy boy and your change to being a girl did nothing to alter that. You are still a wild woman but I trust you to defend yourself. If they are all women, then you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
He set to with the oars and Drustina watched his powerful muscles rippling under his bronzed, weather-beaten hide. Within moments they had crossed the gap and Carl grabbed a rope that the pirate ship had thrown to them. Drustina easily climbed aboard and stood confronting a woman with blue eyes who showed little fear. For a moment Drustina was unsure what to make of the woman’s seeming bravery then the woman spoke in a harsh cracked voice.
“You come alone! A woman alone! Have you no fear of death?”
“I see no threat of death,” Drustina smiled a little evilly,” I can defend myself. Now who are you and where do you come from?”
The woman’s eyes fell to Drustina’s well worn scabbard and the dull shine of a much used Toledo blade within it. She shrugged despairingly then sighed.
“It matters not who we are or whence we come. We are doomed now. Where are you taking us?”
“I’m asking the questions,” Drustina replied softly but with clear authority hardening her voice. “Now, again please; who are you and where do you come from?”
“We are from the convent at Hel. We were nuns.”
Drustina did a double take then realised the women were all garbed in dark hooded garments that had probably started life as nun’s habits.
“By God! Nuns you say?”
“We were nuns. It is a closed order so nobody visits the women put away there.”
Drustina’s sharp brain was still struggling to make sense so she probed deeper.
“So explain. How do nuns become pirates? Where you stealing for God or some such lunacy.”
“We did not wish to become pirates, it was forced upon us.”
“How?”
“The priest. He was the convent’s father confessor. He gradually closed off all external contact with the rest of the town and made sure that all contact was organised through him. We could not get in touch with anybody.”
“That’s stupid. Anyway, if you’re a closed order, you would not need to contact anybody, are you not wholly self-sufficient?”
“Not wholly. The water supply is precarious. We depend upon the town’s well and the water is piped from a cistern fed by the well. Normally the well is fed by a submarine spring until the spit grew to cover it. The well enabled the town to come into being. Hel is on the end of the Sandy spit and the water is not always pure. After storms there is sometimes salt incursion and the well takes a day or so to purify itself from the spring. The sea is close on three sides but the town has slowly built protective walls and it’s on stable land now. The well is lined now and only occasionally gets polluted with salt.”
Drustina’s mind ticked slowly. If the convent was denied water they would soon die of thirst.
“So why did not one of you go into the town and explain to the towns-people.”
“The priest spread rumours that we were harbouring lepers; that we had become a leper colony and we nuns were treating them.”
Leprosy was dreaded by all and Drustina shuddered at the very thought as she persevered.
“And are there any lepers?”
“No, but the villagers believed the priest not us. The villagers shunned us.”
Drustina frowned thoughtfully.
“So only the priest could come amongst you, protected by this one god they all preach about.”
“Do not mock the almighty,” the nun cringed,” you are inviting his wrath.”
“And you are inviting mine.” Drustina replied softly.
The nun stared nervously.
“You gave us your word.”
“My word is not a licence for you to indulge your religion and the mental oppression it dispenses. So how did this one single priest manage to persuade a whole convent full of holy women to rob ships and murder innocent seamen.”
“We were starving. Without water from the town well, our fields will not grow food.”
“So no water and no help from the village.” Drustina surmised.
“Exactly. We were starving.”
“So why didn’t one of you try to escape and approach the bishop.”
“She did. She never returned.”
“So she either never reached the Bishop or he didn’t act upon her story.” Drustina surmised.
“We don’t know which.” The nun answered
“Hmmm.” Drustina paused for thought. “Perhaps this goes deeper than I first imagined.”
“We, we don’t know if we can trust the Bishop.” The nun confessed reluctantly.
Drustina sneered ironically for in her experiences she had learned she could never trust a bishop. She ordered all the nuns to remove their head covers and when they hesitated Drustina’s sword flashed free with a speed that sent terror through their ranks. The leader spoke again but much more circumspectly.
“But you are a woman!! Where did you learn sword-play such as that?”
“It matters not! Remove your head covers.”
To emphasise her determination, Drustina flicked up her sword and the Toledo blade sliced easily through the leader’s wimple. Released from its starched tension, the hooded rim sprang apart to reveal the woman’s hair. Drustina noted it was well kept and long, unusual for a nun belonging to a strict closed order. She kept her counsel though as the woman tried to recover her ‘modesty’ by pulling the sprung rims together. It was a futile gesture and to remove further temptation, Drustina sliced again to completely remove the covering. The nun’s hair flowed luxuriously over her shoulders and she struggled to bunch it into a facsimile of the tight pony-tail that Drustina was sporting.
“You’ll need a tie to hold it back ... some string or something. If you want me to uncover all the women thus, I will do so without hesitation.” She turned to the crew and repeated her instruction. “Now uncover your heads.” As they reluctantly started to unpin their wimples Drustina turned again to the leader. Are they all blessed with hair such as yours?”
The leader nodded guiltily as she finally found some small chord to secure her hair. Drustina noted that the woman was not unpretty and she wondered how the woman had come to take up with the church. Bluntly she asked the woman.
“You are blessed with some beauty; you could easily have had a husband! Why did you forsake normality and follow this closed life?”
“I didn’t choose, I was forced to.”
“How so?”
“My younger step brothers were jealous of my inheritance handed to me by our father. When he died, they forcibly entered me into this life declaring that I was an unworthy woman and must needs
become a nun to find salvation.”
Drustina fell silent. It was a familiar story and she had encountered plenty like it or similar. It seemed this hateful misogynistic church was even more cruelly entrenched in these parts. When she arrived at Kalin, there would be questions to answer and not by the nuns. Drustina persevered.
“I suppose many of these women have similar stories.”
The leader shrugged and nodded despondently.
“Who would chose such a restricted life voluntarily?” She replied..
“Who indeed?” Drustina added. “Well. You’d best prepare for an arrival in Kalin. I must leave it to the Authorities there to deal with you. Am I right in presuming this is the whole gang of pirates. Are there more?”
“None that I know of. We were forced to rob to feed ourselves and supply that greedy priest with any valuables we plundered.”
“So how did you do it? How did you overcome whole crews of Saxon and Norse seamen.”
“You’d be surprised how much a woman’s voice and a pretty face can bring down a man’s guard. Once we were alongside it was easy to surprise them as they let their guards down.”
“But to murder them ... all of them? Why so brutal?”
“It was the priest’s doing. He offered us salvation and absolution for our crimes and besides, dead men tell no tales. We picked our victims, or rather he did. Small ships with valuable cargoes and small crews. We don’t know how he came by his information.”
“I do,” Drustina added. “There are plenty of loose tongues in the bars of Gdan and Gdyn.”
“But what of the incoming ships? How would he have learned of those?” The leader asked.
“That’s what exercises my mind. He must have a network of spies all over the Baltic.”
“Where; in the church?” The nun squeaked disbelievingly
“Possibly ... no probably. I’m beginning to realise you are not entirely to blame.”
“But that’s obscene, to accuse the holy fathers of furthering piracy and murder.” The nun protested.
“He did it, so why wouldn’t others of like mind. I’ve met some bullies and some bigots amongst the holy men. I’m still puzzled as to how he managed to persuade so many of you.”
“We were starving in the convent. Some of our sisters died; the older ones and the infirm.”
“But what of the others? Surely not all the able-bodied women were persuaded?”
“They were after some of us were punished and put to death.”
Drustina fell into a disbelieving silence then asked generally of all the women.
“Is this true?”
There was a murmuring of confirmation for the women were still frightened. The strange woman with the sword had come amongst them like a lioness amongst sheep and they did not know what to make of her. Drustina softened her voice for she recognised they were terrified of what would befall them in Kalin. Then she had an idea.
“We will return to Hel and go to the convent. Show me the bodies of the ‘punished’ nuns and I will have proof of your involuntary subjugation. I can then make a case for you!”
The lead nun sobbed.
“What! You would advocate for us?”
Drustina shrugged.
“Who else is there?” I at least have the evidence of my own eyes and my crew’s eyes. Now if I am to find out the truth and if what you say is true then I must needs know your name.
“It’s Sister Catherine,” the nun revealed.
Drustina glanced meaningfully toward the four ships then turned to face the leader Sister Catherine again.
“Now, there are nearly two hundred witnesses over there. They will accompany you with me to Hel and I will confirm your story. We will even recover bones if we can. I do not fear death or the dead. Once the bones are presented to the court and your story proven, we can re-bury them.”
“You would be desecrating holy graves; violating the dead!”
Drustina became exasperated. It seemed the woman was more afraid of this one god and the priests than the courts. She explained patiently.
“Listen woman! You can stuff your pious hypocrisy about desecrating graves! Without hard proof it is likely the courts will desecrate your necks!”
Sister Catherine fell silent then pressed.
“Please promise me you will reinter the bones with respect. These women where our sisters and friends.”
“Of course I bloody will. Now onward to Hel!”
In this chapter, Drustina captures the pirates then finds herself having to advocate on their behalf to ensure justice is done.
The Angry Mermaid 47
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 47.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Drustina’s flotilla, now numbering five ships soon arrived in Hel before the forenoon. The sudden appearance of an unexpected show of force caused consternation in the smallish town until Drustina went ashore with Carl and Urthos to explain the purpose of the visit. To back up her authority she brandished the King’s letters of marque that were still valid throughout Pola. She met the burgomaster and council in the state house at a hurriedly convened assembly.
“The convent you say. But it’s leper colony!” They protested in a collective shout of pure fear.
“Who told you that?” Drustina demanded.
“The Priest; Father Prezitch. The confessor to the sisters.”
“Do you mean this priest?” Drustina demanded as Carl pulled the man’s decapitated head from the tarred waterproof canvas bag he was carrying.
There was a roar of shock and disbelief as pandemonium broke out amongst the burgers.
“You have murdered him!”
“Like hell we have!” Drustina growled back before anybody had a chance to start any wild rumours with unfounded allegations. “Do you think we would have come to your town if I had this beast’s blood on my hands? I would have thrown him to the crabs and the fishes! No! He committed his own suicide, a heinous crime and for a priest a blasphemy no less!”
There was slow settling of chairs as order was restored and Drustina continued.
“Now. I have on my flotilla, the captured pirates and I am come to seek evidence of their claims of enslavement.”
“Explain yourself,” the burgomaster demanded.
Drustina did, relating the whole sad litany of Sister Catherine’s story.
“We will try them for murder and piracy here and now if they are the pirates.” The burgomaster bellowed.
“You will not!” Drustina replied softly but with equal determination. “I will establish the facts first, then we will hold a court.”
“You have no authority here woman. This is men’s business!”
“This is God’s business my friend. These are holy women and I will see truth before God; not you and this council! Now I’m going to investigate that convent and establish the facts. Carl. See to it that these vermin don’t harm the nuns. Alert the crews then join Urthos, me and Sister Catherine where she says these women are buried.”
Then she turned to the council and addressed the burgomaster.
“Burgomaster, you will accompany me into the convent. We shall see if the stories this nun tells of are true.”
“But it’s leper colony!” The overweight, florid man protested.
“Then we shall see if that is true as well. Come on, you will accompany me. I’ll brook no objections.”
The fact that the two hundred battle hardened sailors outnumbered the menfolk of the town was a powerful motivator to the councillors and they looked at their burgomaster to lead them by a show of courage. The man had little option but to follow Drustina as she rejoined her escort in the town square and marched off to search the convent grounds. With Sister Catherine’s direction, they quickly found and exhumed the shallow graves. The Burgomaster stared at the bodies and protested his doubts.
“These bodies could have died of natural causes.”
Drustina sneered disgustedly as she held up a woman’s skull.
“Methinks not Burgomaster. The lioness of Carthage has seen plenty of violent deaths. An axe made the hole in this woman’s skull. She was hacked to death and less than a year ago I’ll warrant. The vestments, skin and ligaments still cling to her bones. Yes ... she was a nun and she was murdered ... less than a year ago. I’ve seen plenty of graves like this in Moldova and Russ to name but two countries. This is proof of butchery and that’s proof enough for me that the sister is telling the truth.”
The burgomaster tried to bluster but Drustina’s knowledge of battle wounds left the jumped up cleric floundering.
“How do you know it was an axe?” He squawked.
Drustina gave him a contemptuous glare then called Urthos and Carl to the exhumed graves. As Urthos picked yet another skull from the mass grave, he and Carl pursed their lips angrily.
“Yes,” they confirmed in unison, then Urthos continued a little insensitively; “only an axe could cut like that. See here, (he held the skull up,) the force you can see by the edges where the bone splinters — a lot of force was used, most probably a man’s hand -.”
“Yes, yes. That’ll do Urthos” Drustina restrained their insensitive descriptions to save Sister Catherine and the nuns who had accompanied her, any further distress. “I can see for myself boys; I’ve also seen fatal head wounds as you well know.”
Drustina had curtailed their confirmation because she could see Sister Catherine and the accompanying sisters were becoming severely distressed. Nevertheless, the evidence had to be documented and preserved and it was a gruesome task. Drustina turned to Sister Catherine, placed an arm around the nun’s shoulder and asked compassionately but still loud enough for the burgomaster to hear.
“Who swung the axe Catherine?”
“The priest father Prezitch, while the Bishop Walivitch condoned it and ordered it. That’s — that’s Sister Maria, the last to die and the oldest.”
“What was she accused of?” Drustina was forced to continue for justice’s sake. It was a duty she hated.
“Witchcraft.” Catherine finally managed to choke out between despairing sobs.
Drustina gave a long sigh of resignation.
“What else? I should never have asked. The twin horns of the religious dilemma I suppose.”
Sister Catherine shrugged and sagged with resignation as she confirmed.
“Either way there is no escape from the charge. If they survive the tests they are proven to have survived using black magic, if they die it’s because they were innocent. Either way they end up dead.”
“You don’t have to elaborate sister, I know of the twin-forked hypocrisies surrounding the one church and its damnable witchcraft charges.”
Drustina hugged Catherine tight around the shoulders before turning impatiently to the accompanying councillors.
“Well Burgomaster. What think you now?”
“There still has to be a trial and the Bishop must preside. This is an ecclesiastical matter.”
Drustina expression soured with disgust.
“There’s nothing ecclesiastical about murder Burgomaster, but I’ll accept these murders happened on consecrated ground. If the church is to try these women then they’d better send an honest bishop Burgomaster or even he will answer to my sword.”
The burgomaster paled with fear, for anybody to even think of censuring a bishop was tantamount to blasphemy in the burgomaster’s eyes. He found himself studying this ‘warrior queen’ as though she was some sort of freak; but a very dangerous freak. The trouble was she had the king’s letter of marque not to mention over two hundred armed men at her back.
“Do you not fear the wrath of God?” The burgomaster asked nervously.
“I have done nothing wrong Burgomaster. Just remember that! I am on the road to exposing the piracy organisation, I have captured the pirates and I have killed nobody. Why should I fear God’s wrath?”
“You spoke of putting a bishop to the sword.”
“I spoke of seeing justice done and justice with compassion. If the bishop who presides over this case is honest and fair, I will have no qualms. But I will see justice and even-handedness prevail.”
“The bishop of Gdan is believed to be a fair man.” The burgomaster offered.
Drustina smiled enigmatically.
“You mean you and your cronies believe him to be fair. I don’t. I think I would prefer the King’s appointee. The Archbishop of Warsaw perhaps. I know him well and he is amenable to reason.”
“The Archbishop!” The burgomaster almost shrieked.
Concern was writ large over his face and that made Drustina even more suspicious. She pressed a little harder.
“Well why not. This is a very serious case. Upwards of a hundred nuns, Sisters in Christ no less, face serious charges. The case must be seen to be fair and transparent.”
The burgomaster could find no flaw in Drustina’s proposal. To object to the archbishop, a cardinal no less ... a prince of the church; would leave him looking suspect and while he had acted for the murderous priest in all innocence by persuading the town to cut off the convent’s water supply; he was innocent of any more sinister involvement. To avoid further suspicion he made a public showing of full agreement to the archbishop presiding but underneath his facade of compliance he was seriously worried that he might somehow be implicated. The irony was that he now wanted a truly fair and transparent trial for he had, in truth, had his own suspicions about the information web being run by the local priests but he had kept his mouth shut for fear of offending the powerful Bishop of Gdan.
Drustina sensed that the burgomaster might yet prove to be a useful source of information about the spy network so she trod carefully to reassure him.
“Do not worry Burgomaster; I know the archbishop well. We met and dined many times when I was the kings’ guest in Warsaw. He was intrigued by my duality but he proved to be a logical and fair-minded man. Unlike previous bishops and holy men, he did not condemn me for having woman’s parts in fact he rather envied me. He was more curious about the dichotomy of my having been a mother and a father.
As a soldier and proven warrior, I was yet able to give him a deep insight into how a woman feels about her children and how a woman will make huge sacrifices to protect those children. Then to show the other side of the coin, I was able to demonstrate how my need to recover my homeland reflected my male side, a man’s need to recover his self respect by regaining his tribal lands and thus serving his people.”
The burgomaster visibly relaxed as Drustina made an account of the number of women’s bodies her men had recovered. Carl and Urthos the Gaul were visibly saddened by the sight and the men packed the bones into boxes that would later serve as coffins after having been presented as evidence to the court. Drustina found herself hugging a tormented Sister Catherine as she tried to comfort the woman and reassure her that the trial would be fair.
“What d’you think they will do to us?” She whimpered nervously.
Drustina shrugged apologetically then leant in closer to continue in a reassuring whisper.
“I don’t know. I believe that Archbishop Crawklow is a compassionate and logical man. He didn’t strike me as cruel or vindictive. This much I do know for he told me. He doesn’t believe much in the witchcraft accusations that were brought before him and he’s never sent a woman to the stake. Secretly, that is why I suggested him to preside over your trial. I just don’t trust the local bishops.”
Sister Catherine hugged Drustina tighter then kissed her passionately on the cheek before signing a cross on each of the boxes of bones and watching them being placed aboard The Mermaid to be taken to a secure place away from the risk of tampering by the local priesthood’s Mafiosi.
With the evidence thus secured, the fleet sailed south to the Vistula to arrange for the trial to be held in a neutral city well away from the coast and the ungodly piratical conspirators. A fast horse was sent up the River Vistula valley road to Warsaw ahead of the ships. By the time The Angry Mermaid and her sister ships had worked their way upriver, the Archbishop met the little fleet at the newly formed town of Torun.
The archbishop had wasted little time after reading his personal mail and also being shown Drustina’s covering letters to the king. A king who was furious when he learned of Drustina’s declared suspicions. He commanded the Cardinal-arch-bishop.
“You’d better sort this out your grace! I tasked Drustina with solving this piracy and that’s exactly what she has achieved, namely stopping the piracy and finding out the truth. If this priestly conspiracy is the truth, then woe betide those holy bishops.”
The archbishop was left in no doubt that if he was to save any vestiges of respect and faith in his church then he had to act quickly. He had galloped out through the city gates of Warsaw the very next morning with but a skeleton entourage, a couple of clerks and a dozen men at arms. He arrived in Torun with little fanfare to find Drustina already waiting for him. The archbishop set up his ecclesiastical court a scant two days later.
It is amazing how amenable a recalcitrant organisation like the church can become when confronted with a ‘force majeure’, namely a feared and proven warrior with a known penchant for even-handedness towards women and, more importantly, with a force of two hundred battle hardened warriors at her back. Drustina was something even an Archbishop could not ignore. Furthermore he had huge respect for the young woman. A scant two and twenty years old, yet already a name to conjour with all over Europa.
The first conundrum the archbishop faced was to find an individual with real clout advocating for the accused nuns, all one hundred of them.
Not for these women was there to be an arrogant assumption of male supremacy that disregarded the crucial factors that separated women from men. When men and women were confronted with few choices and all of them life threatening; men might plunge straight into their preferred ‘death or glory’ option without regard for their lives and safety. Not for men the responsibilities of babies and nurture.
For women their primordial nature was to somehow survive first, then protect any children they had. For women the natural choice was survival for men it was fight. The trouble was it was men who ran the courts and men who therefore adjudged women to be weak because they usually chose the ‘survival’ route. The early church and its misogynistic episcopalia reflected this arrogant presumption. The main conundrum for the Archbishop was that the nun’s advocate, though having the appearance of a tall, slender, beautiful woman, also had the heart and fighting skills of a warrior; and a great warrior to boot. This was not going to be a pushover where accusative threat and bluster could cow the defendants into submission and defeat. The archbishop had already met with Drustina and been severely tested by her intellect and argument during their earlier fireside chats when she had stayed as a guest of the king.
Firstly the charges of witchcraft were utterly destroyed by Drustina’s very presence. When the prosecuting bishop tried to accuse Drustina of being a witch by saying she must have used magic to protect herself from injury Drustina let out a squeal of contemptuous mirth and did something she rarely did those days. She exposed her numerous battle scars to prove she had suffered plenty of injuries and come close to death from some of them. Having thus proven that she was mortal and a warrior, the next problem was surmounting the argument that she was not fit to advocate because she was neither man nor woman. She argued logically that she had born four children as two sets of twins. One set, her first-born, were accompanying her as she spoke and Drustina duly promised to produce them as evidence she was a woman. When the court then learned that her second twins were heirs to the Pharoic throne they were forced to concede that Drustina was a woman and a mother. The next part then completely flummoxed the prosecutors. Drustina declared that she was also a father for she had fathered Queen Meronee’s child in Nubia and that child also was heir to the Nubian thrones. However, she had no proof of this and only one witness in Horus, the Egyptian boat-builder’s son. However, the court was forced to accept Horus’s word for want of any provable contradiction.
The first day of the trial was spent establishing Drustina’s right and suitability to advocate in the court, mainly because, as an ecclesiastical court, it was supposed to be run entirely by the church and its holy men. This was the first nail in the coffin of the church’s supremacy in all things moral and godly. Drustina literally told the court that she would advocate for the nuns and her sword would brook no argument. However, it was truly a useful to have a small army at her back.
The following day the court tried to claim that the priest father Prezitch had been murdered but Drustina soon won that first argument. She had nearly thirty crewmembers from her own ship who had all clearly seen the priest stab himself through the chest. This coupled with the nun’s testimony left the church prosecutors with a huge problem. By committing suicide, father Prezitch had committed a serious sin and that would bode badly for his reputation when it came to establishing who had murdered the nuns. At every juncture, Drustina was able to present evidence and or testimony to support her arguments and this left the court floundering. It soon became obvious that this case was not going to be a misogynistic ‘walk-over’. When the prosecutors tried to browbeat the less confident nuns, Drustina could raise forceful objections and as often as not, produce clear evidence to contradict the prosecutor’s bullying. As the days progressed, the trial became a nightmare for the church as priest after priest, not to mention several bishops, were implicated in the conspiracy ring. The case raised so much controversy that word eventually got back to the king’s ears in Warsaw and he decided to brave the deteriorating autumnal elements to come and witness the trial for himself.
His royal presence alone was enough to unsettle the ecclesiastical nature of the court and that additionally lent further power to Drustina’s elbow. The secular power of the king was supported by arms and the king had a mutual affectionate respect for Drustina’s many military achievements. He was amused and fascinated to see that sharp brain also enjoy the same success during intellectual arguments with the ecclesiastical prosecutors.
However her finest hour came when she managed to get the court to accept that women were very different from men when it came to facing danger or death. Their responses invariable inclined towards survival because of the natural drive to nurture even though, as nuns, they would never enjoy that fulfilment. This successful argument finally established that it was unfair to accuse women of complicity and conspiracy to murder after they had seen their companions murdered and been threatened with all sorts of excommunication. For women, it was all about survival.
After nearly a month of tempestuous argument, the church was left with one argument, namely that these women had broken the vows of their holy orders in choosing to align with the priests and follow their directions whilst knowing those directions to steal and kill were ungodly.
Unfortunately for the church, even this argument was weakened by the fact that the priests had instigated the actions. Finally the day came for summary and the archbishop’s hands had been well and truly tied.
In truth, the archbishop was secretly glad that Drustina had decimated the church’s case for it allowed him to show an infinite degree of compassion whilst still being seen to act in the interests of the church.
He sentenced the nuns to be stripped of their holy orders and banned from serving the church in any capacity in the future. At first, Sister Catherine was devastated by this news until Drustina pointed out that this gave the nuns freedom to address any iniquities that might have precipitated them into the church originally.
“But Drustina,” Sister Catherine protested. “How will we support ourselves now we are alone and unprotected?”
Drustina shrugged apologetically.
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy. Most of you are young and pretty, I noted that most of the murdered nuns were the older women and that in itself is an obscenity. That sick priest knew exactly what he was doing to get the younger fitter women to do his dirty work. Older people are harder to browbeat into submission. They tend to be a bit more cynical and harder to persuade. He knew which nuns to kill. But it is over now. Those murdered nuns will be buried in consecrated ground and the mother convent can do as it wishes with the buildings. Anyway, you are free now, surely you can find husbands; as I said, most of you are young and pretty.
“But in our homeland, we will be pariahs. People will despise us and you know how the church can poison people’s minds.”
“Well, I’m sorry Sister Catherine; I can’t help you with that.”
The sister departed looking very depressed and Drustina felt useless. She was in that same mood when Tara came in with the twins.
“What-ho younger sibling of mine. Why such a long face?”
Drustina smiled and shrugged as the twins clambered into her arms.
“I feel so useless.” She told Tara.
“Why?”
“Oh it’s these nuns ... or should I say ex nuns?”
“What about them?”
“They face a life of censure and persecution, plus the guilt thing. They did, after all, kill a couple of dozen ships crews; it was about a couple of hundred people in all.”
“Well that’s not your problem. The court accepted your arguments. You did well to get them off alive.”
Drustina shrugged dismissively, sometimes she got angry with her own sisters ... her own sex; then she had to stop and do a double take. Some would say they were only partly her own sisters for there was another part to Drustina that made her a half-brother to men. She had long ago realised that that other part had made her more independent, more obstinate, more self-reliant, more adventurous and more aggressive. She did not have much respect or affection for that ‘male part’ of her but it was something she could do nothing about. It was nothing to do with the lumpy dangly bits between her legs, it was the inexplicable duality that was lodged firmly between her ears. The bits between her legs could simply be removed if that offered a solution but it didn’t. Drustina knew it was more than that and she was not prepared to undergo a painful mutilation with serious risk to her life simply to try and address the strange duality inside her head; a duality that paralleled the double deformity between her thighs. Besides, it was no concern of anybody else’s. She was what she was and no superstitious holy man was going to ever be allowed to condemn her for what she was born with. Her masculinity and her Toledo blade would make sure of that until she was too weak to wield it. She smiled to herself and for a brief moment she savoured the male parts within her that protected her femininity and gave her resolve.
These thoughts unsettled her and there was little more she could do so she distracted herself by enjoying the antics of her twins on her lap. They ended up playing ‘tickle’ and Tara watched a little enviously as her own clock began to ‘tick’.
The following morning the church relinquished all holds on the detained nuns. Thus excommunicated from the church they became vulnerable to persecution and they knew it. The proceedings of the trial had not been made public for it had been an ecclesiastical court so commoners and secular citizens had little idea why upwards of a hundred nuns had suffered the serious penalty of excommunication. They were allowed to walk free from the large hall where they had been remanded and more or less cast loose upon the streets. It wasn’t long before they were enduring abuse and assault as rumours flew and whispered charges of ‘witchcraft’ began to circulate. Fearful for their very lives, the nuns inevitably, gravitated to the only chance of security they could recognise, the ranks of Drustina’s band of warriors. The men had taken up camp in the port area where their ships were moored whilst Drustina had advocated in the court. Slowly, in dribs and drabs, the nuns had been forced to gravitate to that same port area which was usually thought of as the worst area of the town where prostitutes, pimps and thieves abounded.
Ironically Drustina’s warrior band had unwittingly brought a semblance of order to the immediate area around their temporary settlement just down river from the main port. Their tents and ships provided a safe haven of security and, being a tight-knit group of trusted friends amongst themselves, the encampment itself was thus safe and secure for the original wives who had accompanied their husbands all the way from Constantinople. The nuns were quick to realise this and within a Day of their release, Sister Catherine made a tentative approach to the leaders Carl and Eric.
“You ask that you might live amongst us!” Carl expostulated.
“We would be better served than if we tried to find acceptance among our own people.” Sister Catherine declared.
“But what happens when we leave?” Eric asked. “We might be stuck here now for the winter because of the delays of this confounded trial but come the spring, you can be assured woman, we will be off again to return to our homelands.”
Sister Catherine sighed.
“By then sir, I am hoping our band of sisters might have found a more secure circumstance, perhaps set up a hospice or something.
We are capable women; we can still do good work even if the church rejects us. We are young and strong and capable.”
‘And pretty’, thought Eric and Carl simultaneously, without either having confessed their thoughts to the other.”
The two Saxons glanced towards Urthos who shrugged as the Saxons’ gaze fell possessively upon Sister Catherine’s long lustrous hair, now visible to all since she no longer wore the nun’s habit and wimple. Urthos the Gaul returned the glance with a frown that confused the Saxons and they dismissed the nun so that they could discuss the situation. Sister Catherine was waiting nervously outside the leader’s tent until Drustina appeared with her toddlers at her knees. It was getting dark and she was making her way to her tent pitched right beside her beloved ship to settle with her children for the night. She squinted through the darkness before recognising the familiar figure.
“Hello Sister Catherine. I thought we’d seen the last of you.”
Sister Catherine hesitated nervously before explaining about the nun’s plight.
“We have nowhere else to go. The people of Torun despise us and it is not safe for us.”
“I know that,” Drustina replied, “but our protection is but temporary.”
“Yes, your lieutenants have already told me this. They are inside the tent debating our fate.”
“Drustina smiled knowingly.” She knew her lieutenants to be fundamentally good men but Drustina was not slow to spot the temptations that one hundred young virgins might put in the way of her loyal band.
She had Sister Catherine take care of her children and put her finger to her lips before silently creeping up to the flap of the tent to eves-drop on her lieutenant’s conversation. Urthos the Gaul was talking.
“You’d better put that out of your minds right now. These are honest women not whores and anyway, I for one am married.”
Eric replied with a snort of amusement.
“I wondered why you frowned just then. I wasn’t thinking of that you randy old boar I was thinking about a more honourable estate.”
Urthos paused before replying.
“I’m already wedded so that’s a non-starter for me. You lecherous pair can try them if you want. Offering marriage doesn’t seem like a bad solution and it would make honest women of them. Better than being reduced to prostitution or something.”
Carl let out a rough guffaw before agreeing.
“Ha. There’s a fine bevy of beauties and that’s no mistake. If they were to become prostitutes, we’d need the old convent at Hel to house the brothel. A hundred virgins though! They’d command a fine price. Mind you, there’s many a man amongst us who’d have any one of them for a bride; and another thing, we know they can crew a ship so they’ll be useful on the voyage home.”
“And no father to have to go begging cap in hand to, for permission to marry.” Eric added.
“Nor proving you are able to afford a bride.” Urthos added. “These women have no family now to demand a bridal price. They’re free, available and needy.”
Carl fell to chuckling again as he mused.
“I wonder what the old lioness would say to that.”
Drustina took it as her cue to surprise them and she slipped silently from the outside shadows to step grinning into the lamp-lit circle.
“Uhm, less of the old please gentlemen. This lioness is but a score and three years this past summer.”
All three startled lieutenants span around and scrambled to their feet as Carl was first to find his voice.
“Bloody hell Drustina! Don’t creep up on people like that!”
“And how much have you heard?” Urthos asked.
“I’ve heard enough you old lechers. You sounded like bloody farmers discussing a pedigree herd of cattle!”
“There was a brief embarrassed silence until Drustina grinned.”
“I must have been bloody blind. These nuns have appeared to me so holy and righteous that I had forgotten they were still women and pretty ones at that!”
“They are that!” Eric confirmed.
“Aye. Well just you mind that and you can forget about any bloody brothel full of virgins! I can’t think of a dafter concept. I think taking them for brides is a far more acceptable option.”
“D’you think they’d find us acceptable,” Carl wondered, “I mean we are little more than water-born vagabonds, footloose adventurers. I for one haven’t got much to offer a bride.”
Again Drustina grinned then her expression softened to a smile.
“Oh Carl, you sell yourself short. You can offer these women more than their wildest dreams cold ask for. They are pariahs in their own country, you offer them escape. They are vulnerable to every danger a woman can face, you offer them security. They faced years of seclusion and isolation as nuns, often forced there involuntarily, you offer them freedom and fulfilment.”
“Fulfilment? Eric asked with puzzlement wrinkling his brow.
Drustina let out an exasperated snort.
“Children you idiot! Motherhood! Matrimony. Do I have to spell it out!?
“Oh! I see now,” Eric replied as Carl wagged his head.
“Shit Eric! Sometimes you can be soo-oo dumb!” He turned to Drustina again. “Are the nuns amenable to this?”
Drustina corrected him.
“They’re ex-nuns now Carl and ex-nuns who go in fear of their lives and their safety. Bloody hell Carl did you not listen to a word of what I said in the trial? Women seek security; it’s a tough bloody world out there being a woman!”
“I dunno Dru, you’ve done okay!” Carl countered.
The familiar term of affection was something only her two oldest male companions Carl and Eric were allowed to get away with.
They had fought side by side with her through many a battle and she knew she could depend on them. More importantly, they had never censured her for her duality, in fact they held her in higher esteem and that counted much in Drustina’s heart, not to mention her head. Women were allowed to use the term of endearment liberally but familiarity by women rarely invited unwanted attention. Drustina replied thoughtfully.
“As a woman, I’m the exception Carl, but nobody knows that better than you and Eric. I count your comradeship amongst my highest blessings. Besides there are still parts to me counted as manly and you have respected me for that, but believe me, all three of you will know this. A woman’s lot in this country, where priests and bishops hold the people in superstitious bondage, is a perilous one. You saw how those priests in the trial held women to be the lowest of the low. For that alone, I detest them.”
The three lieutenants fell into a contemplative silence. They had hailed from a more liberal Saxon and Gaulish culture and they had not failed to see how women were treated as drudges in these Slav countries. Carl and Eric in particular had always been secretly amused and pleased when presumptuous men were put in their place by their warrior queen and her deadly sword. Drustina sensed the introspective mood settling upon the group so she decided to lighten it.
“Come comrades. I shall invite Sister Catherine to join us. Perhaps it might be instructive to ask her opinion. I warn you, she has told me how and why she joined a closed order and you will understand better of a woman’s plight.”
She added another goblet to the table and stepped outside to invite the sister to join them. For a moment Sister Catherine hesitated as deeply instilled habits fought with her instincts. Drustina sensed her reluctance and told her bluntly.
“Come Catherine! You are no longer Sister Catherine; you are no longer a nun. The vermin in that court made sure of that. You have only the archbishop’s magnamnity and compassion to thank for you and your companions very survival. You are a woman now, a free woman to choose her own path.”
“But what path oh Warrior queen? What path. We have nothing but the clothes on our backs. We are virtually beggar women.”
Drustina smiled knowingly and gently took Catherine’s hand.
“Oh I think not my girl. Come inside my lieutenant’s tent and we shall see.”
“But that is a man’s tent. I am a wo-!”
“A woman,” Drustina finished for her, “just as I am Catherine, just as I am! Now are you going to stand out here forever? There is a threat of snow in the air and you will freeze if you persist in standing out here all bloody night!”
So saying, Drustina gripped Catherine’s hand and literally dragged her into the tent. As she entered her nose wrinkled. The smells of fire smoke, roasting meat, men’s sweat, animal skins and leather were odours foreign to Catherine’s delicate nose and she bit her lip. The fire however spread a warmth that gave invite to Catherine’s chilled bones. She cast about nervously before Urthos relinquished his rough-hewn log and offered it with rough fatherly words.
“Dammit child! You look frozen. Sit here, close to the fire and out of the smoke.”
Catherine was about to scold the man for calling her a child but when she looked more closely, she realised he was older than the two Saxons. Instead, she smiled gratefully and moved close to the flames then took her seat by settling modestly with knees together and her habit arranged decorously about her legs and feet. Meanwhile, Drustina pulled a ferocious looking dagger from her belt and casually sliced some smaller, more delicate portions off the wild boar joint roasting over the open spit. Catherine studied the sharp edged dagger that Drustina had used without any second thought to its fearsome appearance as she tapped the pewter plate meaningfully to signal her message to Catherine.
“Eat woman, you look just about all in.”
Catherine teared up with appreciation then smiled with embarrassment as her belly rumbled in a most un-lady-like manner. She had not eaten all day. Drustina handed her some bread to accompany the delicious meat and invited her to take more if she wanted it. Something Catherine did with relish for the pangs of hunger gnawed at her vitals.
The next act however told Catherine lots about the famed warrior queen. Drustina returned to the roasting haunch of pork and proceeded to hack off a substantial flense of flesh then simply speared it on the vicious point of the same dagger as she joined the three men sitting with ankles crossed and thighs apart. If Drustina had been wearing a dress it would have been a most unbecoming, un-lady-like arrangement, but with britches, tights and a short embroidered tunic she looked every inch a man except for her obvious feminine curves and beauty.
As Drustina gnawed on her outsized portion Carl responded to Catherine’s obvious surprise and slight discomfort. Carl spoke softly so as to reassure the nun.
“Fear not good lady. Drustina is our comrade and leader. When amongst us, she dwells as a man but you could not ask for a better nor trustworthy female chaperone. That dagger you see has killed many a foe and yet protected many a maid’s virtue so eat up and enjoy what we have to offer.”
So saying, he filled Catherine’s goblet with more wine and sat drinking in Catherine’s beauty. Catherine recognised the attention and admiration and blushed but in the dim firelight it was not apparent. Drustina however, sensed the atmosphere and glanced aside to catch Catherine’s nervousness. Catherine caught her eye and Drustina nodded imperceptibly. She swallowed the piece of pork she had been chewing and asked Catherine bluntly.
“Have you and your sisters a place to sleep tonight?”
“No your majesty!”
This address brought gentle laughter from the three men as Drustina quickly put the nervous woman at ease.
“Ye Gods Catherine. I am amongst friends and companions here; comrades I trust implicitly. There is no need for such high born titles here. Besides I am not a queen. Call me Dru; Eric and Carl do.”
“What of Urthos?”
Drustina smiled again.
“Urthos is older; he treats me more like a daughter so he calls me dear or darling. It works; we are friends in this tent and also on the battle field. Now back to my question. Where will you and your companions sleep tonight?”
“I don’t know ... Dru,” Catherine answered hesitantly. “We throw ourselves upon your mercy.”
“Yes,” Drustina mused, “that’s what I thought. Well, there’s little I can do tonight. I can ask some of the men to relinquish their warm beds but space is at a premium. You can sleep in my tent tonight.”
This brought a chuckle from Carl and Eric and Catherine looked askance. Drustina flashed her lieutenants an angry glare.
“Brook no heed from them! They are dirty-minded buggers. Yes, I have a cock for I am dual but you will be sharing a bed with Tara my sister. I will have my children with me. They need their mother!”
Catherine looked even more concerned.
“I learned of this in the court hearings but now I see it at first hand. It is hard to encompass. I would love to see your children.”
“You will shortly. Finish your food and I will introduce you to my sister. There is also room in my tent several more of your companions but it will be a tight squeeze.”
“A warm crowd is better than a frozen isolation.”
“Well we’d best see to it as soon as.”
She turned to Eric and Carl authoritivly.
“For your dirty thoughts, you can organise the sleeping arrangements. Go and see the women safe.”
Carl and Eric grinned and Catherine noted there was no resentment. As the two lieutenants set off about the task, Catherine looked quizzically at Drustina.
“They must worship you. They left without a peep or a groan.”
Drustina smiled knowingly.
”D’you want to know a secret?”
“Go on.”
“Those men were discussing you and your sisters earlier, d’you know what they were mooting?”
Catherine squinted and pursed her lips.
“I think I’ve got an idea. Something salacious I’ll warrant.”
“Uuhhm no actually. They’re not those sorts of men; well most of them are not. Don’t forget these guys have been through some pretty tough stuff. Eric, Carl and about fifty of them have been with me since they were freed in the Iberian anti piracy conflict. We got separated and met again occasionally as our paths diverged then rejoined. The rest sort of joined along the way since then; the Carthage campaign, Egypt and the Nubian battles, Constantinople and the Bulgar wars. All of them have fought alongside me at some stage. I know all of them by their first names; I promise you they’re not bad men.”
“So what were they discussing?”
Drustina wagged her head as she considered Catherine’s seeming naivety.
“Have you not got it yet?”
“Don’t play with me,” Catherine snapped, “what is it these rogues want?”
“They are not rogues Catherine. They are honest sailors, warriors and adventurers. I see you and your sisters are grateful for the protection they offer you now, so how is it you think of them as rogues.”
“They protect us, yes; but at what cost? What will be their price, our purity?” Catherine frowned.
Drustina lost her patience. She could not believe the ex nun could be so thick-headed.
“Dammit woman! They were discussing marriage. Can’t you get it through your stupid head, these men are returning to their homes. They are finished with wild adventures. They want to settle down! They will be looking for wives and partners to go forward with their lives! They’ve seen enough of wars and the world. Most of them have land and villages to return to; others are tradesmen with skills hard-won on their journeyings. All of them are proven soldiers who will be able to protect their wives and daughters from abuse or assault and all of them would treat their womenfolk fairly. I know these men Catherine, I know every one of them and I have fought beside them. They will see fair-play and justice done for they have mostly suffered injustice at some times in their youth; just as you and many of your sisters did. They were forced to leave their villages to find new lives; you women were forced into a closed order convent to get you out of the way.
My men simply want to return to their homelands and put down roots. What’s more, most of them have got nest-eggs accumulated from their successful battles. These men have prospects and some modest wealth despite their having been adventurers, rovers and wanderers. Your sisters could never again find a better opportunity to find safety and security. For God’s sake woman go and tell your sisters!”
“But we are excommunicated. We are condemned. What decent man would take us? The church has put a curse on our heads. Despite your wonderful advocacy we are still deemed to be murderers and criminals; witches even, by the superstitious ones.”
Drustina wagged her head as weariness overtook her.
“Would this damnable church ever forgo it’s maltreatment of women?’ She wondered. She spoke again sharply to Catherine.
“Listen woman for this is the last time of telling! These men do not give a toss for the church and its hypocrisies. They have seen plenty of murder and cruelty committed by the church in God’s name. This god, they preach as being peaceful and forgiving, is hypocrisy. Did those churchmen offer you forgiveness at the trial? No! They certainly didn’t, it was forced upon them by my advocacy and the swords at my back. The Archbishop knew this and in truth he secretly agreed with me. He knew full well that if he had sentenced you to be burned, my men would have gone wild. My men will not see healthy, pretty women wasted in the flames of some wicked witch-burning. They’ve seen enough of wanton slaughter and they all know that the church has been as guilty of instigating slaughter as the butchers who committed it. Catherine, you and your sisters were safe from the moment my men caught you and noticed your beauty. THESE MEN SEE YOU AS WIVES! NOT WHORES!!”
Catherine’s eyes first glistened with moistness then slowly, the tears began to flow. Tears of relief, tears exhaustion and finally tears of joy. Drustina frowned patiently then sighed.
“Aaahyyee. Go to bed woman. Sleep there in Tara’s bed. I’ve got work to do. I’ll be up half the bloody night sorting out safe beds for your sisters. Eric and Carl are good lieutenants but there’ll not be many of my men willing to give up good warm beds without some sort of price. They’ll more likely ask why the women cannot sleep with them tonight and marry in the morning. But I’ll see things done properly. I’ll not see the priests with ammunition to charge my men with immorality and I’m sure your sisters would prefer it done so that there can be no charges of nullity in any marriages they may enter if they choose. These are arguments I must put to my men now, now in the late of night when they would prefer to be abed. I think I would prefer to be encouraging them on the eve of a battle for that I am used to.”
Before Catherine could respond, Drustina threw on a cape and stepped into the cold of the approaching winter’s night. The sister was left staring at the swinging tent flap and an inviting bed. She was utterly relieved that another generous soul had taken on the responsibility for her sisters’ welfare and she was so tired, she immediately availed herself of Drustina’s invitation. She was so exhausted she did not even stir when Tara arrived to put the twins in Drustina’s bed and then crept into her own bed beside the ex nun. When Drustina crept back after the midnight hour having finally silenced the grumbling men and temporarily allocated safe berths to all the women she found her tent floor covered with grateful sleeping bodies and she had to pick her way carefully to her own bed and sleeping twins. She was the last to stir in the morning for Sister Catherine was quick to realise the organisational efforts by the Warrior Queen must have been wearisome duty. Sister Catherine had not lost the early rising habits of a nun and she had silently evicted her sisters without a murmur as she made sure Drustina slept on. Outside, as the sisters gratefully took on the domestic cares of the camp, Sister Catherine turned to Tara.
“Your sister is an unbelievable woman.”
“Don’t I know it sister!” Tara grinned back as she stirred a pot of inviting porridge mash. “Can you lay out the bowls on these tables?”
Sister Catherine was more than grateful to be of use for she had the security and pleasure of looking forward to a good hot breakfast. From another cooking fire where Eric and Carl sat laughing at some private amusement she also smelled the delightful aroma of cooking bacon. After doing as Tara asked she stepped over to the lieutenant’s fire. Unlike the warrior queen, Eric and Carl had no table and they were sat on their favourite log seat with their plates on their laps whilst demolishing the bacon with relish. She smiled inquiringly and they invited her to join them whilst offering her a thick slice of delicious bacon. Sister Catherine glanced over to Tara who nodded encouragement so she settled gracefully on the log. She nibbled appreciatively on the bacon rasher and blushed as she sensed Eric and Carl’s eyes land covetously again upon her. It was her intention to sound them out tactfully about Drustina’s words concerning marriage the previous evening.
“Are you happy to have us amongst you gentlemen?” She asked. “What I mean is; are we too much of an inconvenience?”
“Not if these women cook as they have this morning. It’s one of the first times I haven’t had to light my own fire and prepare my own food. I could grow to like this.”
“Look at those two over there.” Carl added. “Already they are airing the bedding and cleaning the ground around Frank and Harald’s tent. You’d think they had already married that pair of crazy buggers. Oops! Sorry, I must learn to moderate my language.”
“Where did Harald and Frank sleep last night? Eric grinned.
“Amongst the spare sails on the boats, like a lot of the other men.” Carl replied.
“Oh. I’m so sorry my sisters caused you so much discomfort.” Catherine apologised.
Carl let out another guffaw.
“Don’t worry girl. We men sleep that way every night when we are afloat and at sea. They’re well used to a bit of roughage. As of course, is Dru.”
Catherine’s eye teared up again in gratitude as she spoke again softly.
“Your queen is right. You are good men.”
“Speaking of queens,” Eric looked up, “here she comes. You’d best make room for her on our log. It’s also her favourite breakfast seat.”
Catherin eagerly slid her posterior along the log and patted the comfortable hollow invitingly. Drustina smiled appreciatively and took the most comfortable section of the log. It rocked slightly before Eric and Carl used their weight to stabilise it again and Catherin reciprocated the courtesy of the previous evening. She offered Drustina a generous portion of porridge and several rashers of the bacon hot from the pot. The mood around the breakfast fire improved considerably as the two women sat between the men and chatted about future plans.
A Chapter where Drustina finds herself with her back to the moral wall when confronted with some violent hyprocritical church-men.
The Angry Mermaid 48
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 48
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
The Saxon Camp remained at Torun for the winter and, much to her frustration, Drustina experienced a second bitterly cold eastern winter kicking her heels.
Some weeks after the trial, the king and the archbishop paid their respects to Drustina’s winter camp before returning for Warsaw. After the frenzy of entertaining a royal visit, the camp settled down to weather out the winter frosts.
For the townsfolk of Torun, the camp proved something of a blessing. The extra 200 strong hands served to improve the town’s river facilities and during the depths of winter, when the waters were frozen and the river running low, they built a new stone quay. Building in stone was a rare skill to be found in those days and Drustina shared with Horus some extra skills in the craft. Even though by Egyptian standards, their masonry skills were rudimentary, compared with the peoples of the eastern plains of Northern Europe, Horus and Drustina seemed to be magicians working with stone. Builders from the town watched eagerly and learned quickly as the stones were hauled on ice-sledges from a distant quarry further up the frozen river Vistula.
The Saxon adventurers also proved to be welcome guests for the men had money to pay for their food and they had muscle to add to the town’s improvement. For the secular interests of the town, Drustina’s overwintering army actually proved to be a blessing.
As to the religious authorities however, there was an uneasy relationship. A new bishop had been appointed and he was proving to be a religious tyrant; a man with a proven reputation as a witch-burner. When stories emerged that Drustina was performing marriage ceremonies without including the rites of the church, the new bishop of Torun and his entourage of priests came visiting in force to raise objections. Drustina was only alerted to this when her classroom was disturbed by a veritable mob of holy men arriving at her camp fire clearing. As the cacophony increased Drustina recognised danger and she quickly despatched one of the boys from her class.
“Go now and fetch the men! They are by the bend where the river has scoured the old jetty foundations and flooded the land behind the jetty. Tell them I am outnumbered and the new wives are vulnerable. The rest of you children; girls and boys, wait outside at the rear of the tent. I know what these religious fanatics are capable of. They might try and burn us all inside the tent.”
Having ensured the children seemed reasonably safe Drustina turned finally to Tara.
“Watch my back. See that none of these visitors can sneak around through the tent and get behind me,”
Tara nodded as her eyes widened with fear. She had never faced danger the way her other sisters had. She held Drustina’s famous war bow in her hand but she had had little training with it.
The boy with the message slipped out through the rear flap of Drustina’s tent and sprinted away then the other children evacuated through the same rear opening as Drustina checked that her trusty dagger lay sheathed in her shoulder scabbard. Next she reached for her sword then stepped out through the front of her tent ready to meet the mob in the fireside space outside her tent. She recognised the Bishop as one of the more vociferous prosecutors from the trial, a truly bigoted bully and a witch-burner to boot. The man had recently been appointed in the shake-up of the church since Drustina’s exposure of the piracy ring. It had been a bad appointment for the man was a misogynist who resented the fact that it was a woman who had exposed the failings amongst his brother bishops in Gdan and Gdyn. He was secretly determined to somehow see her punished for having the temerity to confront and expose any failings in his church.
All the men from Drustina’s camp were further down river helping the townsfolk repair the jetty and reinforce some flood defences, so the Saxon camp was denuded of menfolk. Nobody had any inkling of any enmity between the temporary campers and the town’s-people. The bishop had done his research well and chosen his moment carefully. Drustina confronted the man whilst keeping her sword in her hand for she had recognised the confrontational mood of the churchmen. The bishop immediately challenged her drawn sword.
“Why do you brandish your weapon? We come in peace.”
“With fifty priests at your back,” Drustina sneered disbelievingly.
“They are to strengthen the argument.”
“Arguments need words and wit, not men and muscle.”
“So why do you come with your sword?”
“Excuse me Bishop; I have not come anywhere. I was here always, inside my own tent, minding my own affairs, teaching children to read, write and do numbers.”
“But you brandish a sword.”
“I am a woman. I have a right to protect myself. You are fifty men! What do you expect me to do?”
“You are a woman; women do not wear swords; that is, not normal women; besides, we are priests, men of peace.”
“You’re talking to The Lioness of Carthage Bishop. This woman has seen plenty of examples of your church’s so-called peace.”
The bishop rankled at the woman’s sheer arrogance to so much as criticize his church. He challenged her words.
“Such as?”
“Oh spare me bishop. How many innocent women have you burned at the stake?”
“They were witches.”
“Is that what you have come here for now. To charge me with witchcraft?”
“You have been marrying these excommunicated whores to Christian men. You have no authority to do that.”
“Oh. So who does?”
“Nobody. They are excommunicated pagans.”
Drustina realised she would have to tread carefully. She was alone facing fifty priests and there was no knowing what they wore under their cassocks. For the moment though, she could only prolong the arguments until she had back-up.
“I think you will find they are excommunicated, but they are not pagans; nor are they witches. That was established once and for all at the court presided over by the archbishop ... your boss, I might add.”
The bishop smirked confidently.
“The archbishop is not here now.”
“But his law is. Believe me Bishop, if you think you can arrest me or use some other such trumped up religious device to work your evil means then think again. This sword has tasted plenty of blood, yours will simply add to the mix of flavours if you think you can use force.”
“You would use force against me?” The Bishop gasped after realising the woman before him meant every word.
“I have used force countless times. Only force can face force. Believe me Bishop, I’m for real. I may not be able to defeat fifty priests but I can certainly ensure that one bishop will be counted amongst the price of my arrest or murder!”
So saying, Drustina flicked up her razor sharp Toledo blade and lodged the tip with pin-point accuracy against the Bishop’s epiglottis. The man swallowed with fear and the flutter of his Adam’s apple caused the sword to prick his throat. He felt the sharp pain and squealed.
“Ahh! You have attacked me!”
Drustina smiled and laughed hollowly as the bishop studied the blood on his finger where he had felt his throat. The sword still rested uncomfortably against the bishop’s fleshy jowls. She replied softly.
“If I had attacked you Bishop, your head would be at your feet now. I’m going to hold you here until my men return so if I were you I would not make any more sudden moves with your head and neck.”
The bishop smirked knowingly.
“And how will your men return?”
“When I heard the commotion of your arrival, I sent word. They will be here shortly.”
“Do you mean the boy that we caught trying to escape from the camp?”
Drustina felt her belly sag with fear but she maintained her posture of fearlessness. Her poise did not falter, nor did the sword slacken in her grip.
“What d’you mean, ‘trying to escape’? This camp is not a prison. My people are free to come and go.
“The boy was sneaking off to warn your thugs.”
“So where is he now?”
“He has been arrested.”
“Oh, by whom and by what authority?”
“The authority of this church. The holy church of Rome.”
“You mean your self-appointed authority. What authority is that? You will have to answer to the archbishop.”
“Oh I think not. It is winter now and travel from here to Warsaw is all but impossible. The river is frozen and roads are impassable. You will be long dead before the archbishop hears of this.”
Drustina felt a cold anger seeping into her bones. She spoke softly but the softness only lent more menace to her words.
“If you have harmed the boy, I will kill you here and now.”
“You wouldn’t dare. There are too many witnesses.”
Drustina twitched her sword a fraction and the point pricked ever so slightly deeper into the bishop’s throat. Drustina was getting nervous but she played what few cards she had left.
“I’m warning you Bishop! If the boy is harmed, you will die. Bring the boy here.”
“You don’t give the orders here. I do. The boy is arrested.” He blustered.
Drustina felt the bishops’ Adams’ apple jerk as the man swallowed fearfully and she realised the man was a coward and a bully.
The bishops’ cowardice gave her a hand that still had playable cards so she repeated her demand.
“Bring the boy here. I will see what harm has become him — No! Don’t move your head Bishop, for if I have to, this sword will cut it off. If the boy is harmed, you will answer to my sword. I am not afraid to die! Are you?”
The bishop motioned to the priests behind him and after some confusion, there was a disturbance in their number as a gigantic gorilla of man emerged with the bloodied boy held in his massive hands. The man was dressed as a priest but Drustina was hard pressed to believe such a huge brute could ever have obtained holy orders. The whimpering boy was covered in blood and his face was utterly unrecognisable from the beating he had received. His lower legs were broken below his knees and bent at appalling angles. The giant priest simply dragged him like a broken doll and the boy started screaming in pain. Drustina was shocked and sickened.
“My God Bishop! So this is your peace, the battering of children! What did the boy do to earn that beating?”
“He is your spy.”
Drustina shrugged dismissively.
“Firstly; what proof have you, and secondly that boy is close to death?”
She shrugged wearily as the injured boy now lay still and bleeding in the dirt at the giant’s feet. Then she looked about her before speaking again and spoke to the bishop with a sad resignation.
“Well; you cannot say I did not warn you. Every one of your vermin has heard my words. If the boy was harmed, you would answer to my sword.”
The Bishop shrieked with fear.
“But the boy is not harmed!”
Drustina scowled then glared at the bishop.
“The boy is covered in blood and looks close to death! His legs are broken for God’s sake! Whose blood is it that covers almost all his body?”
A guilty silence followed but Drustina realised if she dropped her guard the priests might become emboldened. She commanded the Bishop.
“Release the boy and let him come to my tent for treatment. We’ll have none of your brutal inquisitions here.”
The bishop lost his nerve but made a fatal flaw as he presumed that no woman would have the guts to wield a sword against so many secretly armed men. He twisted his neck and shouted.
“Take her brothers. Kill the witch!”
For Drustina there could be no other response. Her sword flashed once as it sliced neatly into the man’s porcine neck and severed his trachea. A look of shocked incomprehension filled the Bishop’s face as he realised he could not breath. As he fell to his knees, his twitching fingers tried to grasp at Drustina’s blade but the life was ebbing too quickly.
Drustina gave her wrist another expert twist then, as the sword flipped free, she stepped to her side, raised her arm; lined up the blade to square with the bishops’ neck and brought it down with a force that belied her femininity. The razor sharp blade, driven by an arm that still harboured a strength almost akin to that of a man, sliced downwards to complete its task. There was a sickening ‘zipping’ sound and the bishop’s head fell to the floor. Arterial blood spurted over Drustina’s face but she was expecting it and managed to avoid being blinded by the salty, scarlet shower. The bishop’s headless body collapsed at her feet and his hidden sword appeared from under his cassock.
Drustina bent down, cut the sword belt with her own blade and held up the Bishop’s hidden sword as she sneered at the crowd.
“So you came in peace did you? I’ll wager all of you are armed!!”
The accompanying gang of priests stared; horrified by the bloody apparition that now faced them. Drustina sensed that the other priests were too shocked to respond for they had not expected such a violent and sudden escalation. Feeling that the priests were temporarily ‘cowed’ with shock, Drustina turned towards the human gorilla who was still holding the boy down on the ground with his foot pressed on the boy’s neck.
“I said release the boy!”
The brute smirked and shifted his weight, ready to bring his massive foot down on the boys’ neck with crushing force. Drustina however, was faster than the giant had ever imagined. War and battle had sharpened her senses and she acted almost automatically before the giant priest could complete his brutal act of murder. Not for nothing was she known as the ‘Lioness of Carthage.’
She swapped her sword to her left hand as her right hand reached over her shoulder. In a flash, her dagger appeared from its shoulder scabbard as if by magic before it slammed deep into the gorilla’s massive chest. He was standing on one leg for he had raised the other to stamp down but instead, the man grunted as the force of the dagger took him backwards. The boy felt the pressure ease and he let out a wail of relief. Drustina shouted to him.
“Can you get up lad?”
For an answer the boy struggled slowly to try and rise to his knees but he could not do it, injury and pain from his broken legs had taken their toll on his battered young body. Drustina was sickened by the bruises and obvious deformity of the boy’s broken leg bones. She shouted through her tent and called another boy amongst the children gathered behind it.
“Alfred. Run to the men and bring them back to the camp! Away lad! Quickly now! Fetch the men. I’ll hold these killers here!”
The boy needed no second urging. He was an intelligent lad and that was why Drustina had been teaching these particular children letters. In a flash, the boy disappeared behind the tent and Drustina was left to face the gang of priests. As her pulse raced to fever pitch she screamed out her challenge.
“I may die but there’ll be plenty of you who’ll join me!”
She flexed her sword arm again as she prepared to die but instead, the crowd of men stood dumbfounded. None had expected such a bloody outcome and none of them were capable of facing such a violent and certain death. The priests stood paralysed with shock while Drustina’s manic stare encompassed them and her limbs trembled as the adrenaline coursed through her battle tempered sinews.
“Come on then you bastards! Take me, or face my army when they return. You will not catch the second boy he knows this camp like the back of his hand and he is forewarned.”
She stood panting as her anger sustained her preparation to die but no priests came forward to meet her. There was a sharp gasp of fear from the priests as an arrow whistled passed Drustina’s shoulder and thumped into the table that served as Drustina’s council chamber. Drustina had felt the wind as the arrow had almost grazed her ear and she span around to see Tara standing beside the tent flap with Drustina’s war bow in her shaking hand. Drustina's face greyed with fear as she anticipated being inadvertantly killed by her own sister.
“God save us all sister! If they don’t get me you bloody will.”
“Then stand aside. Let me get a clear shot.” Tara almost screeched with fear.
“No. Enough have died already.”
She turned to face the priests and raised a questioning eyebrow before repeating her challenge. The priests started to shuffle backwards nervously but it was still fully a minute before Drustina realised the job was done. By cutting off the ‘serpent’s head’ the rest of the episcopal snake was leaderless. The sudden violence and terrible acts had shocked the priests so much that they just stood there disbelievingly as the blood from the bishop’s neck slowly stopped squirting and the corpse stopped twitching. She sagged with relief then leant against her table to avert the dizziness that her fear was inviting.
The silence around her tent became deafening as wives who were recently nuns, backed slowly away; afraid to be implicated or associated with the bishop’s execution. The priests, once seemingly brave and determined provided the bishop led them, now began to disperse uncertainly. They had come to orchestrate a witch burning not the death of their leader. Few had seen an execution though many had witnessed witch burnings, usually instigated by their own accusations, and bringing excruciating death to women they deemed worthless. However, this ghastly incident had brought home to them the true consequences of their impetuosity and it left them frozen with indecision A bishop, their bishop; the ‘Bishop of Torun’ no less, had been executed before their very eyes and for no apparent reason save that of charging a supposed witch with stealing for herself, the power of the church to enable marriage.
Such was the misogyny and myopia of these holy men, they had utterly failed to recognise that another one of their number, a veritable brute under the bishop’s control and command, had almost battered a child to death. The boy had recovered consciousness and was now whimpering at Drustina’s feet. She looked down but still did not relax her guard; instead she motioned to some of the girls who had approached from behind the tent. As the boy was carried in agony towards the tent, the pain defeated him and he fainted again as he lay crumpled in the sheet the girls had used to carry him. Drustina looked down at the broken form and wondered if the poor kid would ever walk again. She shuddered as she looked up with revulsion written all over her face before speaking one last time at the priests.
“If this child dies, I will hunt every one of you down like beasts of the forest. Be it known now as I argued in the archbishop’s court. A woman; especially a mother, will die to protect her child or even another’s child. She will also kill, if she can to protect those children. That is her god-given right and duty!
Though I am part man and part woman, I hold my womanhood as dear as my manhood. That womanhood gives me the right as a woman and a mother to kill to protect children. I have exercised that right here today but I am still prepared to die for the boy’s right to live. If I have to go to my maker then I will go with a clearer conscience than many of you! Are any of you prepared to face my sword and meet with god to be judged?”
There was a murmur of uncertainty from the crowd and it might have grown into a growl but for the belated arrival of Drustina’s men. Carl arrived first with Eric in hot pursuit to find him demanding to know what had happened. Carl was staring stupidly at the decapitated bishop and the splashed blood over Drustina’s face and clothes.
“What in God’s own name have you done girl?”
Drustina tensed then spoke softly.
“I have punished a child killer and its controller. Or at least a butcher who would have killed a child had I not intervened.”
“And who is that — that creature; my God it’s a veritable giant?” Carl stared at the fallen mountain of a man who almost filled the gap between Drustina’s fireside and the breakfast table. Drustina explained.
“That was the beast that did the bishop’s bidding. Go and look at the boy in the tent. He needs a good bone-setter and doctor.”
Carl motioned to another man who was recognised by all of Drustina’s band as the best healer amongst them. Carl wanted to continue remonstrating with Drustina that they would lose their welcome but Drustina was weary of events. She slumped heavily against the table and her sword clattered to the floor. Drustina had fainted.
“Oh shit!” Carl cursed as he motioned to two of the arriving Saxons. “You two, carry her to her bed, she looks all in!”
By now many of the men had returned and the remaining priests realised the camp was not a good place for them to remain. They filtered away in nervous groups until the camp was empty of churchmen.
Eventually calm returned to the camp and Drustina recovered to find herself in bed with Tara sat beside her. The Bishop’s body had been despatched to the city with an explanation by Carl and Eric of events as they understood them. They also agreed to an inquiry if the townsfolk required one.
Strangely, they didn’t. The general, private consensus among the secular powers was that the town was better off without the new bishop although this was not generally an opinion expressed publically. Several sweet old widows had already been burned at his instigation and many people had been infuriated that their widowed mothers had been condemned and branded.
By dint of some clever political chicanery, the question in the council chamber was worded to debate whether the camp should be allowed to remain. The hidden agenda was of course how to circumvent the issue of dealing with the Bishop’s execution. The vote turned out to be almost unanimous for the winter camp to remain. The Saxon’s muscle power in repairing the failed stone quay had proven to be a boon to the town’s trading status and it was too good an opportunity to miss. The band had further reinforced their welcome by building a small ‘stone-faced’ dock set back into the bank of the river to ensure safer docking for ships stopping at the city.
Drustina avoided any further issues by voluntarily restricting herself to the camp and quayside whilst not going abroad in the town.
When the spring thaw eventually released the ships from the River Vistula’s icy grip, Drustina’s band made their farewells amidst much regret and fondness. The city of Torun had gained a new quay and shed a detested bishop.
Few were happier to be departing the country than the nuns now become wives of Drustina’s comrades. One of those few was Drustina. At last she was back on the sea where she felt most at ease; open waters with far horizons.
This is a chapter that touches on some reactions to Drustina's undisclosed duality when she is injured and forced to undergo treatment. Firstly however, she has to teach a thieving village headman a lesson about horse theft. The outcome is slightly unexpected but Drustina uses the outcome to later teach a young boy a good lesson in compassion and honesty.
After the injury, the jarl's wife (Countess Etheline,) elects to nurse Drustina. She discovers Drustina's 'genital deformities and is at first angry about the supposed 'deception however, later, as she learns Drustina's story from Tara, Countess Etheline is astounded to learn that the 'deforemed sexual Monster' left to her charge turns out to be her saviour.
The Angry Mermaid 49.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 49.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Drustina’s brave little fleet now numbered five ships for the nun’s ‘pirate’ ship had been added to their number. The flotilla cleared the River Vistula and paid its final respects to the towns of Gdan and Gdyn before setting off into strange new waters that were reputed to be still swarming with Norse traders who were not averse to a bit of piracy and slaving as an addition to their normal mercantile activities. However, a flotilla of five ships was usually seen as more of a threat than a prize and in nearly all instances any sails appearing on the horizon, usually slipped discretely away rather than approach. Rumours that the ‘Fleet of Five’ had routed a pirate’s nest in Pola had grown out of all proportion all over the Baltic as the spring thaws allowed further and further trading as the sea ice retreated.
The band of adventurers however stayed close together and kept the land on their port side as they steered for what the Danes amongst them called ‘De Store Baelt’. A Dane called Heingist was the most knowledgeable of the few Norseman amongst them, he knew the Danish archipelago and he spoke several languages. Drustina had fought alongside him, shoulder to shoulder in the Bulgar wars and therefore trusted Heingist despite his being a Dane. He explained that of the several passages through the Danish archipelago, the Storebelt was not the shortest but it was the widest, with the slowest tidal currents and the most sea-room to fight or run if they had to. Drustina probed him for more information and the Dane related his past.
“I am Heingist of Holkenhavn and my home city is Odens my lady, we will pass within sight of the fortress at Nyborg when we navigate the Storbaelt. Perhaps I at least can persuade the Nyborg fortress to allow us unhindered passage even if we have to pay.”
“Will you be leaving us when we arrive there?”
The Dane frowned nervously.
“Probably not my lady. I left under a bit of a cloud. There was a dispute over some land between my family and the local Jarl. I killed the Jarl’s second son during an argument before the king’s court settled the issue. It was that death that forced the king to act and properly investigate the dispute. Our family won the dispute but I was sent into exile for ten years. The king objected to having one of his nobility killed by a commoner even though I was the son of a freeman.”
Drustina smiled.
“Seems like a pretty lenient punishment for killing somebody. Is the exile finished?”
“No my lady, I have been away seven summers.”
“Will they recognise you Heingist?”
“I don’t know. I’ve aged somewhat. The Constantinople sun has weathered me and I’ve grown a beard. I was not yet a man when I fought the Jarls’ son, he thought he could kill a mere boy, but I proved him wrong.”
Drustina smiled and gave the man a kiss on the forehead. He recoiled nervously wondering why the lady, the ‘Lioness’ no less; had shown such emotion. Then Drustina explained.
“I know all about fighting Jarls my comrade. I did exactly as you when I was but a boy. My god man! You’re a warrior after my own heart. Now, for a disguise, we could have the women colour your hair before we meet to negotiate a passage. Maybe blacken it with ash or something. That blond colour rather gives you away.”
“I was darker than this before I left my lady. The middle sea sun has bleached it. I don’t think they will recognise me now; I’m older, taller, fairer hair and darker skin as well as being stronger.”
“Good man; and you know the waters well?”
“Aye ma-am. We fished as well as farmed.”
“Good. I’ll take you into my crew as a pilot. When we are though the straits you can return to Erics’ ship or remain with me as you wish.”
Heingist frowned and Drustina realised he had something else on his mind. She caught his pensive expression and dragged it out of him.
“Go on man. Spit it out; what’s bothering you?”
Heingist hesitated then replied.
“I’d dearly like to know how my family’s farm is doing ma-am. When I was exiled, I was the only son so there was only my father and my sisters left to run the farm ... and inherit it.” He added quietly.
Drustina sensed the man’s concerns, she had seen her own lands stolen and knew fully the grief such a loss invoked. She tried to reassure him.
“What are the inheritance laws in Danmark?”
Heingist shrugged dispiritedly.
“There isn’t much of any law my lady. Yes, there are laws, but they usually have to be enforced from a position of strength and that often means a man and his sons and their swords.”
“But what of the king’s writ. You saw how it worked in Pola, the kings duty is to enforce laws drawn up in council. Does not Danmark have a similar system?”
“Yes ma-am; well on paper yes, yes of course; but a piece of parchment with some law scribbled upon it serves little purpose when confronted by force.”
“Force? Who’s force?”
“The Jarl whose son I fought ...”
“And killed, “Drustina finished thoughtfully.
Heingist nodded despondently and Drustina tried to cheer him up.
“Well let’s not jump to conclusion yet. The king must enforce the law.”
Heingist wagged his head then added.
“The old king ... King Harald would have, and indeed he did while he reigned, but he has been dead these past four years. Only three years after my exile, his son Arthun ascended the throne and he is a weak, vacillating man.”
“Go on.” Drustina pressed.
“Well the council of jarls have more or less taken control. The new king is more concerned with the pleasures of — of — of the flesh. He allowed the all-thing to be disbanded and there is little law abroad in Danmark these days. I fear for my sisters and my elderly parents for the Jarl of Odens is a particularly vindictive man”
Drustina fell silent as a fortuitous squall took her attention. The hands set to about the sail as the Mermaid started to hop and skip amongst the short, steep, foam whitened waves. Drustina tended the tiller whilst simultaneously ensuring that none of her companion ships came to grief. The squall shrieked in the rigging, and for almost an hour the men struggled in deadly, silent earnest until the squall passed and the sea resumed its shimmering pewter hue. When calm returned, Drustina had forgotten Heingist’s concerns. Nothing more was said of them until the flotilla sighted Bornholm on the starboard side to the north of their route. By unanimous decision it was decided to stop overnight to replenish water and graze the few horses including Seripatese.
In those days, the island of Bornholm was frequently fought over and with each battle the local population would either ‘up sticks’ or change allegiances. Any visitor who arrived unannounced and uninvited was naturally presumed to be a predator or invader. Consequently visitors got a pretty rude reception unless the islanders knew who they were. Drustina’s flotilla was deemed to be an aggressive visit simply because the flotilla numbered five ships.
Heingist warned Drustina of the dangers so they approached the island with considerable circumspection. Finally they chose a fairly remote location and got their horses ashore in the early evening before the islanders realised they had visitors.
It was the following morning and Drustina was with other crew-members rounding up their horses ready to re-embark when representatives arrived from the people living in a village nearby. It was then the Saxons realised several horses were missing including Seripatese. Drustina was pretty upset for they had grazed the horses on unbounded common land that showed no sign of ownership or agriculture. When the group of islanders appeared Drustina asked Heingist to inquire about the missing horses. One of the islanders spoke aggressively.
“You have no right to graze your horses here. It is our land.”
Drustina looked about her at the rough heath and scrub. Then she had Heingist translate.
“It does not look as though the land has title and it certainly has not been husbanded. I do not even see signs of sheep or cattle or the plough.”
“Nevertheless it is our land. We live on the island therefore it is ours.”
Drustina shrugged. She did not want to cause enmity and she particularly wanted Seripatese back. She offered to pay for the grazing from her own purse to avoid any of her men becoming embroiled in any argument.
“I will pay you for any grazing we have enjoyed but we want our animals returned.”
“How much?”
“How much do you think is a fair price? For the grazing that is. We will not pay to have our horses returned.”
The islanders spoke amongst themselves and finally decided a price. To Drustina it seemed a fair price, compared to other deals she had struck concerning her little army and the dozen or so accompanying horses she had occasionally paid for when staying at various camps during their long journey. She turned to her companions and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Are you happy with the deal gentlemen?”
The Saxons and Drustina chatted amongst themselves in Latin for a few moments and finally agreed the price. It was obvious that the Islanders were now kicking themselves for not asking for more. The missing horses were reproduced and the Saxon’s quickly noticed that two particular animals were still missing, Seripatese and another beautifully marked mare belonging to Tara. She had bought it from one of the Russ nobles on the Prypayet marshes after helping to save his wife in childbirth. When the two mares failed to appear, Drustina immediately challenged the islanders and the man who now appeared to be some sort of village elder or leader stepped from among the crowd.
“Those are our horses. We don’t know where your animals have strayed to.”
Drustina rankled at the naked lie for she readily recognised both the stolen mares amongst the villagers herd. Seripatese had even raised her head and whinnied at the sound of Drustina’s voice. She couldn’t come to her mistress however because she and Tara’s mare Capenda were both tethered to a post. At first Drustina was minded to make the point of her argument with her sword but Heingist, ever the height of tact and circumspection, intervened.
“Where is the Jarl of the island?” He asked the leading villager.”
“Why do you ask?” The villager replied.
“Let the Jarl decide. He can hold the horses then each claimant can do what he or she has to demonstrate ownership.”
Drustina grinned and there was a chorus of agreement from Drustina’s band. Everybody knew that Seripatese was the most faithful mare they had ever seen. On the villagers’ side there was a subdued murmuring while the lead villager protested.
“My mare is newly bought. She is not yet accustomed to my command.”
Heingist intervened in Danish.
“That would be for the Jarl to decide, if you can show proof of purchase he would have to accept your word, but the Jarl must decide. That is his duty as Bornholms’ representative of the king in Cubenhavn.”
“We cannot bother the Jarl with such a trivial dispute,” the villager protested.
“You cannot afford not to.” Heingist continued. “This lady is the Lioness of Carthage and she is making her way to pay her respects to King Arthun. If she has complaints about the kings peace on Bornholm the Jarl will not take kindly to having his governorship shown wanting. Justice must be seen to be done.”
Drustina smiled. It seemed Heingist was a bit of a politician as well as a man seemingly bent on justice. The villager’s expression stiffened with fear and suspicion as he realised he might have got in over his head. Still, as the headman of his village, he could not be seen to lose face.
“And what or who is ‘The Lioness of Carthage’?”
Drustina did not rankle at this seeming snub. The headmans’ question told more of the mans’ ignorance than Drustina’s lack of fame. She interceded softly.
“If you need to ask that question, then perhaps you better had speak to your Jarl. I’m quite sure he can enlighten you.”
The village headman sneered arrogantly but realised he was in no position to take the landing party by force. Every one of them was armed including the girl and even though his villagers outnumbered them, an attempt at capturing them would certainly involve unnecessary bloodshed. Instead he recovered some of his dignity by agreeing to Drustinas' suggestion
“Very well, we will take this issue to the Jarl. His castle is but ten miles from here.”
“We will ride.” Drustina declared knowing that Seripatese would very likely throw any rider if Drustina gave her the signal.
“Then I will ride the mare.” The headman declared, thinking that after riding the contested animal for that sort of distance, he would have some sort of control over it when they met the Jarl. The other villagers accompanied the head-man on assorted horses from the villagers’ own flock.
Drustina shrugged and all her companions except Heingist drew lots as to who would accompany her to the capital town of Rhunne. There were not enough horses to go around.
Noon found twenty mounted villagers plus Drustina, Heingist, Tara and seven other Saxons clattering noisily through the cobbled streets of Rhunne. The Jarl emerged to discover what was causing the commotion. The riders pulled up at the bottom of the castle steps as the Jarl stood looking down at them. Then introductions were made in Danish by Heingist.
The village headman then explained his version of the story while Drustina kept her counsel. Heingist translated into Saxon as fast as he could but in the main, Drustina listened uncomprehendingly to the concoction of half truths that the village headman cooked up until finally the Jarl turned to her.
“Is all this true?” He asked in Danish.
Drustina stared vacantly for a moment until Heingist translated then she spoke to Heingist in Latin.
“Partly, Drustina conceded”, “but it’s a confection of half truths.”
Her using Latin immediately alerted the Jarl to the fact that he was dealing with somebody of some status. In the Norse lands, Latin was rarely heard except in priestly mouths and those of the educated nobility. The Jarls’ own Latin was just barely comprehensible, but he immediately changed to Latin just to demonstrate his status as an educated noble. Heingist was just about to translate Drustina’s reply when the Jarl interrupted.
“It is all right Mistress Drustina. I have Latin, both spoken and written.”
Drustina’s belly sagged a little with relief, firstly at the jarl’s changing to Latin and secondly at his form of address. By calling her ‘mistress’ (for he knew nothing of her titles,) he was acknowledging her status. They continued their account in Latin and the Jarl listened thoughtfully. Finally, after some further argument he declared his decision.
“Firstly I think I’m right in believing these ten horses belong to the visitors.”
Drustina felt her belly tighten with satisfaction at not having been called invaders. ‘Visitors’ was a much friendlier description and averted any potential for the dispute to escalate into violence.
Everybody agreed that the aforementioned ten horses were the visitors’ property, so the Jarl moved on.
“It appears that these two animals, the white mare and the well marked blue mare are the ones disputed. I can readily see that they are fine animals and therefore why they are disputed.”
Both sides agreed this and the Jarl nodded with satisfaction.
“Very well, it remains for each of you to prove your ownership. Take the villagers horses and the two disputed animals to the paddock without the town walls. There each person can demonstrate by whatever means they can contrive, their rightful ownership of whatever animals they can. Whosoever can cause whatever animals to come to their command shall have title to those animals.”
It wasn’t a very satisfactory arrangement but the Jarl was a man who liked simple solutions. As a horseman himself he had a close affinity to his own mounts and deemed this the best solution. Drustina could see the village headman seething with dissatisfaction but he dared not raise an objection. The herd of horses was duly released into the paddock.
Each villager claimant was invited to demonstrate his ownership of various animals. In most instances their ownership was determined by default insofar as Drustina did not dispute the villagers’ claims no matter how unimpressive their efforts to reclaim their horses were. Eventually only three animals remained unclaimed. Seripatese, Capenda and a very lively, magnificent, young stallion that simply refused to come at the call of any of the villagers. It was obvious that the villager who claimed the stallion was very upset for he was a young lad who obviously had not had time to form any sort of relationship with the skittish horse. Drustina smiled inwardly for she spotted several opportunities. Firstly she would teach the greedy headman of the village a lesson then teach the distressed lad a better lesson. Finally after every effort had been made by the boy to get his horse to his side, the jarl became impatient.
“Well. It remains for these two visiting ladies to demonstrate their title.” He turned expansively to the sisters and swept his arm towards the trio of horses. “Ladies! Be my guests.”
Drustina exchanged a knowing smile with Tara then both women stepped into the large paddock and snapped their fingers. Both mares came immediately to their call and of course the stallion also followed closely, snorting and snuffing as he drew back his upper lip to test the delicious odours offered by the two strange mares. Seripatese and Capenda were in season.
The village headman immediately howled his protest.
“It is a trick! The blasted mares are on heat. The stallion belongs to my nephew. It was a bloody birthday present.”
The Jarl remained adamant and looked contemptuously towards the headman as he spoke sharply.
“None of you villagers can demonstrate control of the stallion yet it stands obediently between the mares with the woman Drustina peacefully holding only its mane. I declare those three horses the property of these two women.”
With that there was a wail of despair from the boy and he leapt over the rails to sprint towards the stallion. The frisky animal, still only four years old, started to prance and rear nervously as Drustina struggled to hold its head. She cursed the boy and shouted to him to desist but the boy was too distraught to heed her warnings. The jarl cursed loudly and several guards dashed after the boy but they were too late. As the stallion reared fearfully the boy inadvertently stumbled under its flailing forefeet. Drustina cursed and screeched to her beloved mare.
“Back! Seripatese, back!"
As Drustina ducked sideways and down to avoid Seripatese’s blind reversal she flung herself across the boy’s prostrate form. The stallion became further frightened by the confusion of mare and humans struggling beneath its hooves and it let out a scream of fear as it started to drop forward onto all fours again. Drustina looked up in terror as the thrashing stallions’ hooves started to descend then she felt Seripatese’s hoof stepping sideways where she lay. Drustina squirmed frantically sideways and dragged as much of the boy as she could under her beloved mares’ belly as the stallion dropped heavily onto Seripatese’s quarters.
Seripatese let out a squeal of surprise and pain as one of the flailing hooves slashed down her withers and cut her fearsomely. She lurched sideways in pained surprise and inadvertently landed her other hoof on Drustina’s leg. Both Mare and woman reacted by second nature insofar as they were battle trained to work as one unit. The mare finally steadied herself and spread her rear legs as Drustina grasped the mares’ forelegs and dragged herself with the boy forward out of the way of the stallions’ legs. She lay there gasping desperately between Seripatese’s forelegs whilst Seripatese protected her mistress by reluctantly accepting what she patently did not want. Penetration by an immature horse.
By now the boy was squealing with fear until Tara came to her senses. Seeing that her sisters’ leg appeared badly injured, she released Capenda who bolted across the paddock while she bent down and seized Drustina.
Drustina batted Tara’s hands away and motioned to the terrified boy.
“Get him out of the way!” Drustina gasped. “He’s only making things worse with his squealing. Seripatese will cover me until this randy bloody stallion has finished.”
Tara looked up nervously at the snorting stallions’ flared nostrils and her courage failed her. She reluctantly signalled to the guards. Instead, the only man to show sense enough was the Jarl himself. He had already cleared the fence and was sprinting towards the melee of horses and humans. He grabbed the boy with his powerful arms and yanked him clear before lifting him angrily to his feet and cursing him.
“You stupid little bugger! If that woman is hurt, you will answer to me!”
The boy ran whimpering to his uncle while the jarl cautiously returned to the woman lying between the mares’ front hooves. Drustina looked up with a face grey with pain as the jarl asked.
“The mare; is she battle trained?”
“She won’t move, but watch that bloody stupid stallion. Keep away from its teeth!”
Those were Drustina’s last conscious words as the pain from her injured leg overwhelmed her.
The Jarl was well used to horses so he dropped to his knees and crawled under Seripatese’s nose as he prepared to drag Drustina’s prostrate body clear. At first he made soothing noises before he realised the mare was completely calm. Seripatese nuzzled Drustina’s body and the Jarl stroked her nose as he finally dragged Drustina clear while speaking softly to the mare.
“Good girl. You did well to protect your mistress. You might as well enjoy the stallion's efforts now.”
Once he had the unconscious woman clear he called to his guards.
“Don’t just stand there gawping you fools! Take her to my castle.”
In the castle the jarl had Drustina laid gently into his own bed and the bone-setter was sent for. While she was still unconscious and before Tara or any of Drustina’s comrades were able to attend, the jarls’ wife started to undress her with the help of her lady in waiting. In the last year Drustina had been living so deeply as a woman, none of her comrades had even thought about her duality. So strong was her charisma as a leader and queen that the men had come to think of her always as a queen and a brave, indefatigable, warrior queen at that. So much so that when she was carried into the castle by the Jarls’ guards none of her comrades remembered to warn the Jarl, much less his genteel newly wedded wife the Countess Etheline. When she undressed Drustina, her shock was palpable as she made her discovery.
oOo
“Guthrun!!” She screeched as she replaced Drustinas’ jerkin and sheet immediately.
“Yes dear.”
“Why didn’t you bloody warn me!!!?”
“Warn you of what?” Guthrun replied; shocked at his wife’s completely uncharacteristic decent into profanity.
“This ... this freak!”
“What freak?”
“This thing... this man thing!”
“What d’you mean — man thing?”
“Take a look!”
Guthrun watched as his wife flung back the sheet and raised the hem of her jerkin to reveal Drustina’s duality.
“My God! What is she ... he ...it?”
“I don’t know but you’d better close that bloody door. This thing might be some sort of witch or warlock or even a troll in disguise.”
“Oh don’t be stupid darling. She just saved a boy’s life. Except for ... that,” Guthrun pointed towards Drustina’s masculinity before continuing, “she’s every bit a girl. Besides, a troll wouldn’t show any sort of compassion or care for a child.”
“Troll, goblin or whatever. I want it out of here now!”
“She can’t be moved now.” Guthrun snapped irritably. “Not until the bone setter sorts out that leg! I’ll go and get that other girl. They claim to be sisters — though I can’t see how.”
“Yes. You’d better. We might get some more sense out of her than you.”
Guthrun left while his wife plucked up more courage and gently touched Drustina’s breast. Drustina stirred slightly, twitched then gave a soft sigh but failed to stir or waken. Etheline immediately stepped back and prepared to defend herself. Tara found Etheline still in a defensive pose when she entered.
“What’s wrong my lady?!” She asked the Danish noblewoman.
“Are you related to this ... this creature?”
“Yes. She’s my sister. And she’s not a creature!”
“Sister! Sister you say? Then what’s that man thing where a woman’s parts should be.”
Tara became defensive.
“She used to be my brother, my younger brother. We grew up together but she turned into a ‘man/woman thing’, as you call her, when puberty arrived.”
“That’s impossible!”
“You might think so but it’s true. She has born four children and fathered a son.”
“How can she have born children. She’s got a cock!”
“Did you check completely? Did you look behind her cock?”
“Well I ... well no, I didn’t actually.”
Tara removed the sheet again and gently raised the flaccid organ to reveal a definite female opening, next she gently squeezed the labia to expose two noticeable lumps where there would normally have been two soft crinkly flaps. Etheline peered in closely to get a better look then gasped.
“My god. You’re right! She has both. She’s both man and woman!”
Drustina let out a soft mumble of discomfort and Tara gently released the pressure on her sisters’ labia. The little lumps gently receded back up into the labia and except for the obvious penis, the rest of the crotch looked distinctly feminine. Etheline frowned then looked directly into Tara’s eyes.
“And you say you grew up with her, from since you were children.”
“I was there when they were born. Her and her twin sister Mabina.”
“She has a twin?”
“Yes. Ask Carl and Eric, the Saxon lieutenants. They fought in Iberia and her sister Mabina was crowned queen of Portua.
They can best relate all the adventures.”
“I will have my husband question them. Best that men talk to men. But that begs the next question, do you treat your leader as man or woman?”
“The men treat her as their warrior queen and she has earned their adoration. To outward appearances, I also treat her as such because she rescued me from a life of slavery. However to me, in my heart, she is still my younger brother though her appearance belies that perception I think you will agree. It’s just that when we were growing up, she was always my little brother and I find it hard to change that.”
“Well, I must confess, you’re right; she looks more woman than man to me despite that — that thing.”
Etheline fell to further studying Drustina’s sommulent form and then noticed the long flensing scar down her inner forearm.
“Where did she get that.”
“In one of her many battles. She has many scars. Wait until the bone-setter comes and you will see an even greater scar. You cannot see it yet because she lies on her back.”
Etheline fell to studying Drustina’s body even closer and soon noticed the dozen or so lesser scars.
“She been well used in battle.” Etheline remarked as she ran her fingers over Drustina’s golden, tanned skin then added. “Look at this skin; it may be smooth and soft but it’s not really a woman’s hide is it? Not with all those scars.”
“She started as boy remember,” Tara replied, “and a very angry, tormented boy at that. She thought she had lost her whole family except her two sisters, then she and I found each other at the other ends of the earth. And, yes; you are right, she has been through many battles. When the bone setter turns her to straighten that leg you will see her most famous scar, namely the scar she got from Blueface before she killed him.”
“Ethelines’ face went white with shock as a huge shadow crossed her countenance.”
“Oh my God. Is this is the one!? Is this is the boy who killed Blueface. Blueface the bully, Blueface the Slaver, Blueface the cruel! Blueface the brute, Blueface the man I was contracted to marry!"
Tara tensed uncertainly; ready to put herself between her helpless sister and the agitated countess. Lady Etheline noticed Taras’ defensive posture and smiled assurance.
“No, no dear Tara, there is no need to be so defensive! No! I am not angry. I am overcome with joy and wonder. This boy — no, this woman did me a huge favour. Blueface was a brutal warlord who invariably got or took whatever he wanted because he won battles and that suited the king. When he spotted me as a girl, he more or less threatened to destroy our family if he could not have me as his bride. I was sickened by my father’s acquiescence but it was that or see the whole family suffer. Blueface was one of the premier jarls of all Norseland, all Scandia no less. In fact, men went in fear of him from the Northern Lights to Dumnonia and from the Russ to Groenland.
Ah Dumnonia! That name will always mean peace and salvation to me for it is the land where Blueface died. Then the news came back on wings of fire that Blueface was dead, I danced for a full night. My family rejoiced at the news but none more than me. Just fancy... such a huge giant of a man, killed in a fight by a mere slip of a lad; a boy of just thirteen summers. And now I have that same boy here just nine years later. The boy who saved my family and me; the boy who enabled me to choose my husband, the boy who inadvertently liberated me from that dreadful fate. Have you any idea woman, how much I owe this boy?”
Tara was struck dumb with surprise. There was nothing she could say. For a moment the room was bathed in silence then Guthrun returned with the bone setter; a sturdily built woman in her thirties. Etheline stepped aside as the bone setter pulled back the bed sheet and gasped momentarily as she encountered the sexual incongruence. Then she recovered her composure and studied the bent leg. After running knowledgeable fingers up and down the limb she pronounced confidently.
“It may not be broken, just badly dislocated at the knee. Go and get some guards, strong ones at that.”
Etheline motioned impatiently to Tara.
“Quickly girl, you heard the woman.”
Tara rankled slightly at the countesses’ presumption of authority and she refused point blank.
“Thank you I’ll stay here and guard my sister. You fetch the guards.”
Etheline stared at Tara with shock. As the wife of the Jarl, the supreme authority on the Island, she was not used to being disobeyed. Tara repeated her refusal but this time explained in Latin.
“I saw that bone-setter woman’s reaction to my sisters’ secrets; I’ll see my sister comes to no harm thank you.”
Guthrun gave an impatient snort and stomped out of the room shouting over his shoulder.
“I’ll bloody fetch the guards. The sooner this is done the bloody better.” His last words as he stormed into the alleyway
were, “Women! always bloody bickering!”
He returned with four strong men and the bone setter wasted no time in having the guardsmen apply traction whilst she manipulated the knee. There was a loud ‘click’ and Drustina suddenly screamed in agony before sitting bolt upright and cursing. The bone-setter knew enough to ‘duck’ but two of the guards received the full force of Drustina’s unexpected fist. The pain had wrenched her from her stupor. It was only a womanly fist and driven by a weakened, sleep besotted arm so it did not do any serious harm; nevertheless, the guardsmen cursed as they felt its malignancy.
“Damn! She hurts!” The younger guard grunted.
“Count yourself lucky there was no sword or dagger in that hand,” Tara grinned. “You’d be dead now. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s delirious with pain.”
The bone setter interrupted any more banter.
“Turn her over. That ankle looks badly bruised.”
As the guardsmen gently rotated Drustina’s pain-wracked form everybody gasped when they saw the huge scar. Countess Etheline was the first to comment as she turned to Tara.”
“Is that the scar?”
“Do you see any other scar?” Tara replied as Guthrun and the guards stared disbelievingly at the immense defacement of what would otherwise have been a deliciously, curvy female bum.
“How in the hell did she get that?” Guthrun asked.
Etheline explained and Guthrun smiled with astonishment.
“So dear Etheline, this is the angel who brought you and me together?”
Etheline nodded as the bone-setter stood up and pronounced.
“I think the ankle bone might be broken. I can’t find any obvious deformity but that’s one hell of a nasty bruise. The mare must have somehow stamped on it. It will need setting but there’s no deformity thank God. She’s been a bloody lucky woman.”
Guthrun ran his coarse hand up and down the unconscious Drustina’s arse scar and grinned ironically.
“D’you call that luck?”
“She’s alive isn’t she?” The bone setter riposted. “Anyway, any one of those big scars could have caused her death, not to mention the smaller arrow puncture scars."
Etheline smacked Guthruns’ wrist.
“Get your dirty paws off her you pervert!”
Guthrun was about to chuckle until he met Tara’s furious stare then he sobered up.
“Sorry lady but you must admit, she’s got a fine body ... despite all the bloody scars.”
Etheline finally lost patience with her husband and scolded him as she ordered him from their bedroom. Guthrun slinked away pretending remorse but secretly grinning to himself that he had thoroughly groped the Lioness of Carthages’ arse.
Etheline and Tara helped the bone-setter attend the ankle and the stout woman explained.
“It’s hard to tell but I think the bone might only be chipped or cracked. It’s a strong, healthy, young ... uuhhm -”
“Woman,” Tara finished for her. “And it’s SHE not it!”
The bone-setter nodded sagely then continued.
“Yes; very well, woman then. Well anyway, she’s strong and healthy but she won’t be moving about without crutches for a couple of weeks to a month. Best keep her abed for a couple of days then let her go about on crutches. I know how active people hate to be bed-ridden.”
Etheline nodded then called the guards back.
“Once the bone-setter is finished, put her in the antechamber next to this room. I’ll see her safe from any untoward attentions.”
At this Tara let out an involuntary snort that finished as a stifled chuckle.
“What is so funny?” Etheline demanded.
“She’ll brook no ‘untoward attentions’ my lady. Just ask her lieutenants. The warrior queen is well able to defend herself even abed with a bad leg. Sword or dagger, she’ll make short work of uninvited guests, indeed you’d best warn your servants. Or, if you prefer, I’ll attend her myself with your permission.”
“Yes. I think that’s best,” Etheline agreed, for she was always conscious of the burdens her own staff faced and any additional work might cause resentment.
“Thank you countess and might I beg that her twins be allowed to share the room with her. This enforced convalescence will give her an opportunity to spend a goodly spell with them without interruptions.”
Etheline nodded agreement and they left the bone-setter to finish her work as they joined Guthrun outside in the castle courtyard. The village headman was remonstrating about the precious stallion.
“But it’s my nephew’s horse! He is in despair to lose it! It was deeded to him by his father before the accident.”
“A ruling is a ruling!” The jarl snapped back. Whosoever managed to bring whatever animals under their control has demonstrated their title. Both mares and the horse belong to the warrior queen, who I might remind you, bravely saved your nephew’s life! The boy is obviously not ready to own such a lively spirited animal. It is too fine a horse for such a young boy anyway.”
The village headman turned away seething with anger. He had been forced to admit his own nefarious efforts had cost him his respect but now the boy’s rightful title to a fine horse the whole village had come to love, was lost to a mere woman. He turned and stamped angrily away for he dreaded meeting his nephews’ tears.
That evening Urthos and Eric came to see Drustina who was awake, impatient at the pain in her ankle and already frustrated at her immobility.
“Are the ships okay?” She demanded.
“Yes Dru,” Eric replied. “We now have a safe haven in the harbour just below your window. The horses are gathered in the paddock and share the Jarls’ protection as well as ours. Sister Catherine is organising the camp with Carl.”
“Camp! Camp! God-dammit! I only intended to stop overnight until the horses were grazed!”
“Well we’re stuck here until your stupid ankle is mobile if not healed. Blame yourself for your stupidity saving that boy.” Eric scolded her.
“You’d have let him die I suppose.” Drustina growled. “He’s only a bloody child.”
A new voice interrupted their argument.
“Yes, a boy of thirteen no less, the same age as you when you got rid of Blueface.”
Drustina and her lieutenants turned with surprise at the sound of Ethelines’ voice for she and Guthrun had arrived to see how their patient was faring. Drustina replied.
“That was different your ladyship. And how did you learn of that?”
Guthrun let out a low chuckle.
“Come now Drustina. It’s all around the town. The bone-setter and four guards saw your scar, not to mention me, and Countess Etheline. Besides, Tara never misses an opportunity to sing your praises.”
Etheline smiled and nodded as Drustina frowned and remarked.
“Will that bloody tale always follow me around?”
“Just like a tail follows its dog,” Eric laughed. “Especially with that spectacular scar that always invites interest.”
“Yeah, well enough. Is there anymore of that broth?”
Eric exchanged smiles with Guthrun and Urthos as the Countess laid out the small tray of bread, meat and hot broth.
“She’s getting better, her appetite’s back.” Urthos laughed.
“She never lost it!” Drustina snapped, piqued at being spoken of as a third party in her own company.
“Be quiet and eat lady.” Eric censured her. “We want you up and about soon. Spring is well upon us and if we are to reach Saxony then Britannia by summer, this delay does not favour us.”
Drustina was about to snap that she knew that well enough but she ‘bit her tongue’ and waded into the food. The silence prompted the men to leave while Etheline stayed with Drustina to stop her getting bored. Then Tara appeared with the twins and Drustina savoured the female company and her toddler pair. The played with the twins as the two women lay on the bed and they chatted at length about many things. The sun was long set before the women finally separated for their own beds. Drustina had the twins put in a separate cot beside her bed; it would not do to have the babies bumping her pain-wracked leg.
A Chapter where Drustina teaches a young teenaged boy an excellent lesson in honesty and horsemanship.
A Boy jockey and his horse. (Hellenistic art.)
The Angry Mermaid 50
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 50.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine. Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
The Angry Mermaid 50.
An unseasonal spring storm disturbed Drustina’s morning lie-in. The Bornholmians were all busy securing various artefacts and buildings as the screaming banshee wind tested every weakness and tossed unsecured items along the streets and occasionally into the harbour. In the paddock outside the town walls, the jarl, his guards and even Drustina’s companions were struggling with the visiting villagers calming all the horses and trying to gather them in a strong barn that stood firm against the city town walls. It was the only building outside the town with heavy stone slabs for a roof. Most houses had turf rooves that easily withstood even the worst polar storms. Elsewhere in the fields however, knots of straw and battens were being shredded by the furious wind as assorted hay stacks were being stripped of their coverings. Chaos and pandemonium reigned as Drustina sat up, then hobbled slowly to the window and stared down at the mayhem. She was relieved to see Tara leading her beloved Seripatese and her own horse Capenda to the safety of the stout barn. Then she watched both Carl and Heingist doing their best to calm the excited stallion that was rearing and screaming with fear. Drustina cursed the injured foot that had made her a passenger and watching the shambolic scene simply got her more agitated. Reluctantly, she flung herself on the bed again and lay cursing her luck until Etheline appeared with a tray of wine and some scones.
“Lunch will be little late today my dear. It’s a bit busy out there.”
Drustina gave a wry smile at Ethelines’ capacity for understatement.
“Yes. Just a bit I see. I suppose the cook had to first catch the chickens as they were blown past on the wind.”
Etheline grinned.
“This is to keep you going; there’s no knowing when calm will return.”
“How often does this happen? We had something like this only a few days ago. My ships were at sixes and sevens.”
“It’s fairly common in March but unseasonable for April. It should soon pass though. Long foretold long passed ...”
“And short foretold, soon past.”
“Oh you know that one as well. My father was captain of one of the long ships that used to visit Britannia. I learned it at his knee.”
Drustina fell silent for she had to bite her tongue. Etheline had more or less revealed that her father was, (to Drustina’s eyes,) a Viking pirate. Etheline sensed the tension and frowned slightly.
“Sorry Drustina; that was thoughtless of me. If it’s any consolation, I can only say that my father visited the east coasts of Britannia. That is south of Yorvik to Londinium.”
Drustina did not respond. To her, any Viking was a pirate, a robber and a murderer not to mention rape. She was still frightened she might say something she would later regret, instead she changed the subject.
“When are those villagers returning home?”
“Probably tomorrow. This storm will make it dangerous to travel the cliff edge road.”
Drustina remembered the tortuous path they had followed for she thought it was the villagers hoping to dissuade her from travelling right across the island. It was however, acknowledged by Etheline as normally the shortest route.
“Then best check our horses before they leave. See they do not try the same trick again.”
“Don’t worry Drustina. My husband will see justice done. Your horses are well guarded.”
“What about the boy? He had little part in the horse stealing, that’s what he was trying to tell me when we were under Seripatese’s belly.”
“Too bad. Justice can be harsh. His uncle should have thought of that when they tried to steal your mares. It’s punishment enough that he’s lost that fabulous stallion.”
“It seems a bit hard on the boy. I’d like to speak with him before he returns to that village. Can you bring him to me early tomorrow morning, provided this blasted storm has blown itself out?”
Etheline smiled for she had an inkling of what was in Drustina’s mind. She reached out and squeezed Drustina’s wrist - to be surprised by the sinewy ‘whip-chord’ strength that lay hidden under the soft golden skin.
“Gosh you’ve got sinews like a man! I hope you’re not offended by my saying that. You’re a good person Drustina. The world needs more like you. I’ll have instructions passed to his uncle that ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ requires the boy’s attendance ‘’’ alone! That will set the villagers ears agog.”
“Yes, it probably will,” Drustina sighed. “I don’t trust that uncle of his,” she continued, “the man’s a thief.”
“Well it’s strange you should think that. The death of his father was under suspicious circumstances. The man was an expert fisherman and strong swimmer, his boat was never found yet his body was washed up only a few miles from the village quay.”
“Oh. D’you think the uncle had a hand in it?”
“Nobody knows. Guthrun held an inquiry but little came of it. The boat is probably washed ashore on the coast of Sven. It was a strong south-westerly wind that evening and men get drowned while fishing all the time.”
Drustina finished her soup and lay back to sleep. Etheline kissed her forehead and left. Sleep was the best cure for broken bones, once the setting was done. She slept the day through and all night and woke with a huge appetite. As she wolfed down her breakfast Tara and the twins appeared. Drustina felt a wave of pleasure surge through her aching bones and she patted the bed gently beside her. The twins scrambled into the bed and burrowed affectionately close to their mother. Drustina savoured the attention for now the twins were beginning to accept her as their mother. As they cuddled together, there was a nervous knock on the door and Tara answered it.
Etheline stood with the boy who had owned the stallion. Etheline smiled but the boy peered fearfully into the room so Drustina smiled and motioned them both to approach the bed. After catching Ethelines’ eye, Drustina went straight to the point.
“Now boy, I want the truth. How did you come by such an excellent horse?”
The boys’ lip trembled nervously as his eyes flitted everywhere but into Drustina’s gaze. Finally he mumbled.
“It was my dads’.”
“And; go on.”
“When he was drowned I got it.”
“A horse that good is rarely left to just run with the mares. How was it loose that morning when we were grazing our horses?”
“My uncle had given me a row the night before. For punishment, he let Titan loose and told me to try and capture him myself. I couldn’t. He’s too strong.”
“Oh, that’s his name is it, Titan?”
The boy nodded tearfully.
“And what’s your name?”
“Cedric your majesty.”
Drustina’s heart ached to just hold the kid and hug him instead she just smiled.
“You don’t have to address me as ‘Your majesty’, although technically it’s still correct. Just call me ma-am. Now as to you and Titan; they are both excellent names so I’ll tell you what I’m going to do but firstly, I am going to give you some advice.”
The boy stared at her expectantly as Drustina gathered her thoughts.
“Firstly boy, you are too young to control a horse as powerful as Titan, leastways, to control him by force. To handle a horse as excellent as he, you must learn the other route. You must get the horse to trust you and like you. I am going to teach you how to do that.”
The boy’s mind was working feverishly as he tried to decipher the coded message this famous queen was telling him. Suddenly he realised what was being said and Drustina’s face split into a huge grin as she recognised the boys’ elation.
“D’you mean ... d’you mean?”
“Yes Cedric, I’m giving you your horse back. I am not a thief!”
The boy let out a squeal of joy and flung himself around Drustina’s neck completely forgetting she had two toddlers beside her and a very painful leg. Tara and Etheline both leant forward simultaneously to yank him clear as Drustina let out a grunt of pain.
“Steady lad, this leg is still painful.”
“Oh! I’m sorry your majesty ... sorry, sorry!”
“That’s alright lad. I’m a tough old bird. I’ll be out on crutches tomorrow and I’ll want you to stay behind for a week or more; so that I can teach you how to really handle a horse.”
“D’you mean ...”
“Yes, tomorrow Tara and I will take you down to the stables and get you started with Titan. I believe Jarl Guthrun is interested in breeding from Titan and I certainly am. You have an excellent horse there lad, your father left you a fine gift to remember him by.”
The boy’s lip trembled with gratitude then his expression changed.
“But my mam. I have to fetch and carry for her. I have to help with the spring ploughing. There’s only me and my younger sister.”
“That will be sorted. I have several strong men who can help your mother this spring. They are trustworthy and all know the plough. You have an asset in Titan lad. I don’t know how your dad came by him but he will do wonders for the islands’ bloodstock.”
“He brought him back from Saxony, last year your majesty. It was a trading voyage.”
“A fair trade then, not a raid.”
“No ma-am. My dad was an honest trader he used to make several voyages each summer to Saxony and Pola. He was going to use him to breed once he was older.”
Drustina nodded knowingly. The stallion would certainly improve the islands’ horse population, indeed it was exactly the reason Drustina wanted Seripatese to be served. Finally Drustina leant over and pulled the boy close as she whispered in his ear.
“Cedric, your father was a wise man, that horse will fetch you a decent income in stud fees. D’you know what stud fees are?”
Cedric nodded and smiled as Drustina gave him once last piece of whispered advice.
“One last bit of wisdom lad. Don’t trust your uncle, he’s a thief. He tried to steal my mare, make sure he does not try to steal your stallion.”
Having given this private advice Drustina resumed normal speech.
“Now be off with you. Make yourself useful in the Jarls’ stables. You’ll find the Jarl admiring your horse but don’t worry,
Guthrun won’t steal your horse but I’m sure he’ll want a foal by Titan, just as I do.”
The boy gave a whoop of delight and dashed away as Etheline and Tara tried to dry their eyes.
“I’ll say it again Drustina. You’re a wise old bird. That Queen Meronee taught you well.”
Drustina grinned and lay back to play with her twins. Later she tried out her crutches properly and made it to the great hall.
It was a relief to eat with her companions as guests of the Jarl. Guthrun talked about her treatment of Cedric.
“The boy’s enchanted by you dear lady. You certainly know how to win a kid’s heart. D’you think he deserves the horse.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong Guthrun, it was that uncle who was after our horses.”
“Yes. I sussed that. Is the horse safe in the boy’s possession, I mean his uncle is the village headman. He could easily take it from the boy under some sort of ‘loco-in-parentis’ deception”
“That’s for you to ensure that he doesn’t Guthrun. You and I can sign a document of title that the boy cannot dispose of the horse until he’s twenty one. That will stymie any attempts by that rapacious bully. Tomorrow I start my bit by teaching the boy how to get the horse to come to his voice. Once the animal accepts the boy, it will be hard to steal it.”
“I’d love to see this. Who taught you how to talk to horses?”
“A travelling horse trader in Iberia who traded horses from the Camargue marshes. The Iberian king gifted me Seripatese and the trader showed me how to win her affections. We have been as one ever since.”
“Yes, both Etheline and I are envious of your friendship with that mare. Have you seen her since the injury?”
“No.”
“Well she’s got a nasty gash where Titan’s hoof caught her, right down her flank and rump.”
“Just like me then,” Drustina smiled then added ... “scar-arse.”
The whole table fell to chuckling as Carl pronounce.
“She’s back lads. Our warrior queen is back.”
The meal became an enjoyable break and late that evening, Drustina hobbled carefully back to her chamber in preparation for the morrows’ lesson. She found Tara cuddling the children but she did not resent her sister. Her life made many demands so having the childrens’ aunt as a nanny served to compensate well for Drustina’s parental shortcomings. Gently she lowered herself onto the wide bed and fell asleep almost instantly. It was mid morning before she woke to find a fretful Cedric fidgeting impatiently in the stable. Titan had apparently been wholly un-co-operative and now stood disobediently inaccessible in the centre of the paddock daring anybody to try and capture him. Drustina watched the pantomime then went slowly to her beloved Seripatese to inspect the gash on her rump. Tara had done a good job of stitching it and Seripatese seemed not to be too distressed by the vicious slash. As Drustina hobbled slowly to her mare, Titan stood watching curiously so Drustina stopped, spoke softly then half turned away from Seripatese. The mare pricked up her ears, gave a soft snuffle then ambled casually over to Drustina whilst showing absolutely no fear. When they met, Seripatese rested her head on Drustina’s shoulder as the warrior queen gently stroked the mares’ nose. The pair stayed like this for several minutes while Drustina occasionally reached back and brushed the scab that was forming on Seripatese’ rump. It looked clean and healthy and the mare showed no distress but Drustina did not move.
Instead, she continued stroking the mare and generally fussing gently about every aspect of Seripatese’s’ welfare. All the time she watched the stallion surreptitiously whilst avoiding any form of eye contact.
At first the restless horse stamped his fore-hooves and occasionally snorted but after whisking his tail several times he eventually became more curious about the activity between mare and woman. He raised his magnificent head and even Drustina could not help but admire the stallion’s form as the horse stared directly at her. Drustina knew to avoid the young stallion’s gaze for it might be taken as a threat, a claim to the pretty white mare the stallion had come to regard as his own. Instead Drustina bent down behind Seripatese and whispered reassurances as she once again gently stroked the wound. Her seeming disappearance piqued the stallions’ curiosity and he slowly walked towards the pair. Once again, Drustina turned her back to Seripatese and this forced her beloved mare to curl around and rearrange her stance so as to see Drustina’s face. Drustina had not moved a step and this reassured the young stallion as he moved closer yet. Drustina took some sweet, broken scone from her satchel and held it in the flat of her hands as Seripatese turned eagerly to take it. The stallion became more curious and Drustina continued talking to her mare whilst still presenting her back to the stallion. Eventually she knew the stallion was immediately behind her for Seripatese had tensed slightly.
“Steady girl,” Drustina whispered, “let’s not frighten him.”
Seripatese curved her neck further then extended her head past Drustina to nose-greet the young horse. Drustina continued gently stroking Seripatese until she felt the stallions’ hot breath in her hair and his shoulder brushing ever so gently against her back. Still she ignored the horse but the horse would not now ignore Drustina. He gently ‘head-butted’ her in the small of her back and forced his head between Drustina and Seripatese. Drustina was fairly sure it was a demand to be acknowledged but she was not one-hundred percent sure. Perhaps the stallion still perceived Drustina as some sort of threat to his possession of the mare. She continued talking softly to Seripatese whilst gently stroking her until the stallion could bare the negligence no longer. The horse forced his muzzle onto the nape of Seripatese’s neck and stared directly into Drustinas’ eyes.
Drustina paused then whispered very softly.
“Jealous are you?”
The horse gave a soft snuffle and Drustina slowly slid her hand along Seripatese’s back until it fetched up against the stallions’ muscular neck. Drustina savoured the young muscle and thought ‘If you were a youth my boy, my juices would be flowing now.’ Instead she let her fingers trace lightly along Titans’ neck until they reached his ear then she stopped. For long moments the stallion simply stood there until he became impatient for more attention. He snorted softly, tossed his head and turned directly to face Drustina. Drustina let her hand trail down Seripatese’s neck until she reached the point where the stallions’ nose was now resting on Seripatese’s shoulder. She gently touched his nose and let her hand rest gently on the soft velvety pad while the horse familiarised himself with Drustina’s scent. By now she was talking constantly and slowly raising her voice so that the horse would learn to recognise her voice.
Eventually, the horse seemed to be getting bored so Drustina upped the ante. She slowly turned her back to Titan and started gently leading Seripatese towards Capenda simply by holding a tress of Seripatese’s mane. The stallion was not to be ignored and he stepped around Seripatese’s quarters to align himself with Drustina’s other shoulder. Drustina did not hold his mane for her other hand held the crutch that eased her damaged ankle. Her plan was to have the horse simply attach himself to her like a limpet to a rock. She simply reached up and pressed her knuckle against Titan’s cheek thus inviting him to establish a constant mode of contact. The horse obviously appreciated the contact without entrapment and he soon settled close behind Drustina with his head just touching over her shoulder. All Drustina had to do was occasionally raise her hand to her shoulder and rest her knuckles where she had first accustomed the horse to feeling her contact. Slowly she limped across to Capenda, a move that the stallion thoroughly appreciated for it brought both mares close to him and his control. Capenda looked up and her natural herding instinct told her to join the pair. She aligned herself beside the stallion and Drustina took them on several slow, calm laps of the paddock. By now she had also let go of Seripatese’s mane and the three horses simply pressed close behind her with their necks arched gracefully together to stay close to their hobbling mentor. At the entrance to the barn Drustina paused and called softly to Cedric.
“Very slowly boy, back towards me whilst looking over your shoulder.”
Many people had watched the earlier enchantment and a deathly hush settled on the paddock as the boy sidled slowly backwards hardly daring to breath. He halted with his back almost touching Drustina and the three horses’ heads looming over him. Drustina continued speaking very softly.
“Now lad, stand still and bring your hand up slowly to stroke my mare Seripatese.”
Cedric obeyed to the letter and Titan immediately reacted by inserting his nose gently between Seripatese and Cedrics’ hand. Cedric felt a thrill of enchantment course through his bones and his grin almost split his face. He desperately wanted to ask Drustina what it meant but was too afraid to make even the slightest whispered noise. Drustina turned slowly and spoke softly.
“He wants you to pay him attention and ignore the mare lad. He wants’ your companionship.”
Cedric thought his hammering heart would frighten the powerful horse but Drustina slowly exchanged places with the boy who now found himself standing right alongside Titan while the horse arched his powerful neck and nibbled expectantly at the boys shoulder. Drustina reassured him.
“Don’t be frightened lad. His ears are pricked up and his eyes are quiet. He does not fear you and he sees no danger. Now come, walk with me slowly around the paddock without touching him. I’m afraid I’ll be a bit slow, hobbling with this damned crutch and all, but stay close to me and give me your other hand to steady myself.”
Cedric stayed close to Drustina and squeezed her hand ecstatically as the three horses attached themselves the pair with Titan constantly snuffling at the young boys’ neck. Within an hour, Drustina had the stallion coming to Cedrics’ softly spoken word. There was no shouting, no bridles or halters, no curses or scampering futiley around the paddock. Simply a soft call and an affectionate pat when the horse approached. Cedric was enchanted by the progress. Then Drustina had the boy feed the horses to reinforce the relationship.
That night, the rest of the villagers returned to their village but Cedric was ordered by the jarl to remain under Drustinas’ tutelage until he had cemented a solid bond with his stallion.
Cedrics’ uncle was somewhat miffed by the instruction but Guthrun was the jarl and his word was law. Cedric slept that night in a cot at the foot of Drustina’s bed. It was her way of telling him he would be her student for the next fortnight. That night Drustina explained to Cedric in detail.
“Your horse Titan is a very valuable animal and you have every right to expect stud fees for any foals he produces. That was your fathers’ intention and you will benefit by that plan now he has gone to Neptunes’ realm. I will not pay you for any stud fees for I expect my payment will be teaching you how to control and keep the horse. Besides, I gifted the horse back to you after Guthrun ruled in my favour. As I told you the other day; I am not a thief but you must agree I am entitled to my mare being put in foal by him.”
Cedric nodded vigorously and smiled eagerly.
“Yes your majesty.”
“Will you stop calling me ‘your majesty’! If you want to show respect just call me mistress.”
“Yes your ... sorry, yes mistress.”
“Right, now go to sleep. You’ll be up early and busy all morning tomorrow.”
Drustina crawled softly onto the pillow and curled up under the blanket, grateful for the cool soft cotton sheets that Tara had brought with them all the way from Byzantium. The twins and Tara hardly stirred and within minutes, Drustina was asleep.
In his cot that lay across the bottom of Drustinas’ bed, Cedric lay awake in the dark wondering at the myriad tales he had been told about this incredible lady who had deigned to teach him so much. He kept sitting up and sneaking a peep at the woman whose face lay illuminated by a shaft of moonlight until the moon finally swept around the sky and put Drustinas’ face into deeper shadow. He was beginning to hero-worship the twenty-three-year-old girl that was reputed to also be a boy.
Through staying awake half the night, he was mildly chagrined to find himself being woken by Drustina vigorously tugging his arm and shoulder. The sun had already thrown its brilliant light through the opposite window and it seemed the whole castle was awake not to mention Drustinas room. Tara was feeding the twins while Drustina had already turned her back on Cedric to go and relieve herself.
Eager to satisfy his curiosity, Cedric quickly slipped behind Drustina to relieve himself in the same ablution. He caught a glimpse of her standing to urinate like a man before she caught him looking and turned impatiently towards him.
“Yes boy. It’s cock ... just like yours!”
Cedric blushed firstly from embarrassment as he received a full frontal view then he felt ashamed of his invasion of her privacy as she turned away and completed her activity.
“I’m sorry miss ... uhhmm, mistress. I was sort of curious.”
“Curiosity will get you into trouble one day boy if you don’t learn to control it. There’s a time and a place to be curious and a lady’s lavatory is not one of them.”
Cedric struggled to finish his duty and finally crept back to the bedroom while Drustina carried on washing. As he returned, Tara looked up from feeding the twins.
“You’re looking sheepish.”
“I made a mistake.”
“I can guess what it was you dirty little bugger. Was she angry?”
“No, just sort or impatient and resigned.”
“Well be thankful she wasn’t really angry or you’d have had the flat of her sword across your arse. If you’d been a man she might have run you through.”
“Is she that fierce?”
“Ask Eric or Carl. Ask Countess Etheline. The mistress killed a giant berserker Jarl called Blueface when she was only thirteen or fourteen summers.”
“I heard some of the soldiers talking about that; so it’s true then?”
“As true as you’re standing there. Now go and get some wine and food from the kitchen, make yourself useful for a change.”
Cedric trotted obediently to the kitchens while Tara smiled up at her younger sibling as she returned to the bedroom.
“He was just curious.” Tara grinned. “Apparently he only has one younger sister.
“I know, the puerile little sod.”
“He’s only a boy. Go easy on him.”
Drustina sighed. She found it hard to believe a fourteen-year-old boy could be so immature. She silently asked herself; ‘Was I that immature at fourteen?’ Then she shook her head slowly and tried to remember exactly what she was like the day she had fought the terrifying fight with Blueface. She unconsciously chose that incident because it was still the best remembered incident from that time of her life. Then a dull ache filled her heart with yearning. Amongst her companions now, there were none who had been with her that day. Images of Mabina, Aiofe and Arina drifted through her consciousness and she wondered if she was destined to go through life losing companions and friends to circumstance and events. A melancholy sense of loneliness overtook her and she finished dressing in silence. Then she played distractedly with the twins until Cedric returned with the food.
The boy peered nervously around the door then sidled silently towards the table. After placing the tray he sensed he was still not too popular and he was about to slip silently away when Drustina spoke.
“Just eat your food here then we’ll go and see to Titan.”
“Are you sure mistress? I could eat in the kitchen.”
“You’re my guest, you’ll eat in my apartment, at least, at breakfast you will.”
He sat nervously to the table and chewed silently as Drustina and Tara attended to the twins. Drustina caught him staring and she frowned.
“What?”
Cedric hesitated and Drustina had to drag it from him.
“Go on lad; I can tell something’s eating you.”
Cedric still remained silent, he was too afraid to ask until Tara sensed the boys’ confusion. She explained.
“Drustina is their mother lad and yes, she carried them in her belly. Just go with it, like we all do.”
Cedric nodded uncertainly and Drustina exchanged a private grin with her older sister as the boy scooped up his food and wolfed it down. The moment he was finished, he made his excuses and left. Tara spoke softly to Drustina.
“Go easy on him. The poor kid’s confused.”
“He’ll calm down once were with the horses. He’ll realise I’m a woman in my nature despite my reputation. D’you want to bring the twins down to the paddock?”
“You go. I’ll follow you down. Give the boy a chance to calm his nerves.”
Drustina grinned, gathered some bread from the breakfast tray and left.
In the barn she found Cedric talking quietly to the three horses, Titan, Seripatese and Capenda. She declared herself then approached while talking softly. The horses stirred as Seripatese and Capenda stepped to stick their heads through the rails to welcome Drustina. Titan remained close to Cedric and the boy once again felt the tight thrill of bonded acceptance. Drustina congratulated him as she handed him a crust of bread.
“Well done lad. He favours you now, that’s an excellent sign.”
This reassurance settled the boy and he smiled gratefully as Seripatese gave a soft snuffle and stretched eagerly through the rails to accept the remaining bread in Drustina’s hand. Cedric offered some bread his hand hopefully to Capenda and a huge smile broke across his face when instead, Titan lowered his head and stretched out to sniff the proffered arm. Drustina smiled at the boy.
“See lad. It works. He trusts you. I see you didn’t bring any bread?”
Cedrics’ smile vapourised but Drustina slipped him some more bread and Cedric gratefully extended his hand again to Titan who greedily took the second titbit. Drustina squeezed the boys’ shoulder as she fed the remaining bread to the mares.
“This time the bread’s a special treat. Now; perhaps a piece of bread or a titbit first thing in the morning but don’t make him expect it every time you meet.”
“No mistress.” He replied as Titan nudged him expectantly.
“Now lad, d’you want to lead him out into the paddock?”
“Please.”
“Right; gently twist a hank of his mane through your fingers and walk with him to the paddock. Don’t pull too hard just let him go where he wants to go but at a slow walk. He won’t wander far from the mares.”
It went exactly as Drustina described it would and Cedric found himself standing by the main gate with all three horses standing at his back. Jarl Guthrun looked on and Cedrics’ proud smile would have outshined a summer sun. Drustina followed up just as the Jarl asked the boy.
“Have you ridden him yet.”
Drustina replied for Cedric.
“Not yet Guthrun perhaps by tomorrow. This way he’ll be able to ride his stallion without even the bridle or saddle to control him. Just watch and learn.”
Cedric was surprised that this wonderful woman should be so familiar and casual with the Jarl himself and he realised he was truly in august company. He had already noticed how all other women lowered their eyes becomingly when they spoke to the Jarl, even Countess Etheline did so. This warrior queen however, this Drustina, looked all men straight in the eye and spoke directly. He was day-dreaming about having so famous a tutor that Drustina had to gently poke his shoulder to progress the next lessons.
“Tomorrow you might take your first ride lad. For the rest of this day I require you to remain in the paddock with these horses, even if it rains. Don’t touch the horses or try to command them. Just let them get used to you piece by piece. Don’t leave the paddock until the sun goes down and the horses are stabled ... by you.”
Cedric nodded vigorously and Drustina departed across the paddock to where Seripatese was nuzzling the twins' fingers as they were carried in Tara’s arms. Guthrun joined the women as Cedric remained with Titan.
“Why d’you make him stay there all day?” He asked Drustina.
Drustina grinned.
“To get him out from under my feet. He’ll follow me around like a lovesick puppy otherwise. Besides, it will teach him patience.”
Guthrun let out a chuckle and they returned to the castle to take an early lunch.
Thus the fortnight passed until Drustinas’ wounds were comfortable enough to travel. When she left for the Store Belt, she looked at the farewell party that comprised the Jarl and his wife accompanied by various dignitaries then her heart warmed as she spotted the sight she had been hoping to see. Behind the Jarl and only visible because he had been allowed to accompany his prized possession, Cedric was proudly sat astride his stallion with tears in his eyes. The powerful horse now stood in perfect obedience despite the fact that two of his mares were distancing themselves even as he watched while snorting and snuffling. Drustina’s smile broadened as she realised the stallion was now more attached to the boy than it would be to any mare in future ... such was the success of the training and programming she had inculcated in the horses’ brain. Only death would ever separate the horse from his young master in future.
‘Job done.’ Sighed Drustina as she watched the wind fill the sail as the Angry Mermaid danced to her turn and followed her companion ships into the setting sun.
Drustina finds herself at odds with the jarl who tries to screw her for high transit fees whilse passing the Storebealt from Baltic to North Sea.
The Angry mermaid 51
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 51.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Drustinas’ little flotilla of five ships beat against a steady south-westerly breeze for two days before reaching the southern end of the Storebaelt. Then, as they turned north to make the first passage, they picked up speed as the wind remained firmly abaft their port quarter. Heingist was now almost permanently at Drustina’s side as his invaluable knowledge of the many channels and straits between the Dansk Archipelago became indispensible. Drustina slept little as headland followed headland to reveal yet another narrow passage or blind bay that caused confusion to any who had no knowledge of the complex island network.
At first the progress remained satisfactory as they tacked first through the wide Fermarn Baelt then turned north-west into the Langelands Baelt. Then Drustina watched the land closing in even as the summer sun lingered to the Northwest thus indicating their high latitude. She turned to Heingist with concern wrinkling her brow.
“Should we not anchor for the night?” I don’t feel comfortable with all these strange passages, especially as I see that the Baelt gets narrower to the north.”
Heingist shrugged.
“If we anchor here and now, then word will have reached the Jarl of Odense by morning and he will certainly demand a tithe to pass through the Storebaelt. He will probably demand more than the correct tariff because you are not a regular visitor and he will presume you do not know the prices. He is a greedy and avaricious beast. It is better to push further north. The Storebaelt is not a dangerous passage and the summer sun gives us a useable twilight throughout the night. It’s a navigable journey.”
“I thought we would stop anyway, for you to check on the circumstances of your family.”
“I would prefer to do that after we have passed his fortress at Nyborg. Then he cannot twist our tails by refusing to let us pass without a tithe.”
“We can afford the tithe,” Drustina replied.
“Not if that bastard Jarl lives up to his name. He is greedy for wealth and power.”
“You think he might ask a higher price.”
“He is greedy for everything, that’s why I fear for my familys’ land. He might even try to steal your mares.”
Drustina nodded sagely and called across the water to her lieutenants.
“We sail on! Pass the fortress at Nyborg by night then anchor north of the entrance to Odense harbour.”
Eric, Carl and Urthos waved acknowledgement while Sister Catherine brought her ship close alongside. It was the biggest but slowest and clumsiest of the five ships and would be the most vulnerable if they were attacked. They had pre-planned a strategy for such eventuality. The Angry Mermaid and Eric’s ship would pass out hawsers astern and ‘tow’ Catherines’ ship to give it that extra couple of knots. This would slow the Mermaid and her sister-ship, but the other ships would serve to protect. Thus convoyed, the flotilla sailed north through the Storbaelt.
Soon they approached the looming mass of the fortress at Nyborg. The Island of Fyn is fairly flat but the point on which Nyborg Fortress had been built was slightly higher than the surrounding flats and to add to the imposing bulk, earth ramparts had been heaped up before the huge wooden palisade had been built upon the ramparts. It had nothing of the rock and stone immensities that Drustina had seen and attacked during her many battles in the middle sea, but nevertheless, its earth ramparts and huge pine palisade served as a substantial deterrent to any would be attackers. Furthermore it was, in those far off days, surrounded on three sides by shallow water that prevented attacking ships from getting very close to the walls but simultaneously hampered any armed soldiers wading ashore in the waist deep waves.
In the deep twilight of that moonless night the fortress loomed dark and imposing but that darkness served to get the flotilla level with the fortress before being challenged. A signal arrow was fired from the fortress and Drustina turned expectantly to Heingist.
“Do we answer it?”
“It’s best to.” Heingist explained. “They’ll have picket ships further north and they will intercept us, especially with that fat barge you’re towing. If we don’t answer, they’ll presume we’re trying to avoid the toll.”
“If what you say is true, I’d prefer to reach more open water to the north, then anchor there so they cannot block us from departing after we’ve paid.” Drustina observed.
“It would strengthen our hand if the Jarl of Odense tries to get funny with us.” Heingist advised.
“What’s the signal then?” Drustina pressed.
“Just fire two arrows then make for the wide bay of the Samso Baelt. The picket ships will follow you until you drop anchor and negotiate the toll.”
“Negotiate!” Drustina screeched.”
“Yes. It depends on what cargo you’re carrying.”
“So what of the gold and goods that each man carries as his fortune?”
“Wear the gold. The rules say if any person carries the gold as personal adornment then it is not cargo and therefore free of charge.”
“Will this Jarl obey the rules?”
Heingist fell into a thoughtful silence. His own experiences had not been good ones. The Jarl of Odense had demanded his blood after the fight with Heingist after the fight with the jarl’s son over the family farm. Only the intervention of the old king had saved Heingist’s skin. With the new king being a fop, only interested in the pleasures of the flesh and very strange pleasures at that; there was no knowing how far the situation had deteriorated with regard to the application of the law. There had been stories coming out of Dansk that were cause for much concern. Drustina sensed Heingist’s concern and simply nodded reassurance.
“We’ll hide your portion of the gold amongst my jewellery. He won’t dare interfere with an emissary to the king.”
Drustina realised that Heingist’s fears went deeper than that. He had taken a huge risk by coming back to his homeland for it gave the jarl an excuse to arrest him and even execute him on the grounds he had broken the conditions of his banishment. If Heingist was dead, his sisters would have nobody to protect the family claim to their land. Since the jarls had almost circumvented the kings authority there was a clear probability that the kings’ writ no longer ran.
At this point, the picket ships hailed the flotilla to demand their business. The story had been well prepared for Catherine’s ship had some high value goods to be legitimately traded.
“What ships, where bound?” Came the call across the dark water.
Drustina called back identifying her ships and the picket ship directed them to anchor. The flotilla obeyed and as the sun started to peep over the north-eastern skyline of the Island of Vestjaeland they lowered their anchors. Drustina realised she was tired as where all the crews, they had been sailing all night through the narrow waters and complicated navigations. When the toll officer came aboard Drustina explained that she was tired and asked if she could sort out the tolls later in the day. The toll officer seemed a little put out but agreed after determining that the flotilla had no warlike intentions. He noted that all the men were well armed although lots had wives with them. He took his report back to Odense while Drustina and her companions took some well-earned rest. Two picket boats remained to keep an eye on the ‘visitors’.
In the afternoon two ships came out to them. One held a court official with an order that Drustina and the lieutenants plus the interpreter come ashore to explain their business. The second ship had a search crew to determine what goods were being carried and what goods were to be traded. Carl expressed his concerns about their having all their officers separated from the men and Heingist concurred. They spoke in Saxon and occasionally Latin to prevent the toll officers overhearing their conversations.
“If we are all ashore, there’s no knowing what these officials might try.” He warned Drustina.
Drustina nodded agreement and they decided to send Eric, Carl and Urthos’s lieutenants as representatives to accompany her and Heingist while Eric Carl and Urthos remained behind to protect their interests. They pretended to the senior, toll officer that Drustinas’ other lieutenants were aboard the other ships and that Eric, Carl and Urthos would have to return to their ships to enable the ‘captains’ to disembark and accompany Drustina. Drustina sketched out a plan in Saxon them turned to the toll officer.
“Once those officers have returned to their ships, the captains will return here.”
Within the hour, each of Carl, Eric and Urthos’s lieutenants from the three ships returned under the pretence of being the captains and the whole party returned to Odense in The Angry Mermaid with Sister Catherine’s ship in company as that was deemed to be the only ship carrying a full cargo of goods.
As they stepped ashore the Jarl was standing on the wharf as his mean eyes coveteously encompassed both The Mermaid and Sister Catherines’ ship. He immediately went on the attack.
“Why were you trying to slip through past the pickets?”
“We were not. We were taking advantage of what seemed like an advantageous tide.”
Drustina would not have ordinarily known how the tides ran in the Storebaelt but Heingist had explained them. Fortunately the jarl knew little of the tides, he was man versed in warfare and theft. She carried on explaining after realising the jarl had not picked up on her apparent local knowledge.
“We answered your signal arrow but we had to find a safe anchorage, the currents were too strong near the fortress.”
The Jarl at least knew that this statement at least was true. The tides did run strongly close to the fortress and this made Drustina’s story seem honest and plausible. He turned his attention to the potential pickings.
“What cargo is the fat merchantman carrying?”
Before leaving Bornholm, Drustina had loaded Catherines' ship with grain and timber and some furs. It gave the flotilla a semblance of legitimate trading whilst providing little temptation except for the furs. The jarl motioned to his picket men to uncover the canvas off the large consignment sitting amidships. His piggy eyes showed clear disappointment when he sized up the potential pickings.
“There is nothing here that warrants an escort of four warships. There must be other goods, more valuable goods.”
Drustina shrugged. Apart from the mens’ and their wives’ personal property there was truly little else and she told the jarl bluntly.
“Then search the ships. There isn’t anything else. The grain was to be used either for trading or as food if our expedition had to travel far.”
The jarl could not believe her words and he demanded that he search the vessels more thoroughly. After an hour of having men disembarking timber and grain he was forced to concede the truth. They carried little of high value except the furs. Drustina decided it was time to take the initiative.
“Where is the notice posting the tariffs for transiting the Storebaelt?”
The jarl looked up.
“There is no notice; the tariff varies with the seasons.”
“So where is the notice for the summer season? It is summer now.”
The jarl showed some discomfort. Ordinarily in King Haralds’ day there would have been a scale of charges posted outside the harbour office inside the fort but since the new king Athun had proved effete and weak, the rule of law had tended to weaken. The jarl had come to see the transit tariffs as little more than his own purse. He tried arguing further.
“It is pointless posting tariffs for every season and occasion. It’s a waste of time and paint.”
“But it proves the tariffs are publicly available for inspection, then everybody knows what’s what.” Drustina countered.
The Jarl became slightly aggressive.
“I decide the tariffs for each advancing year. My word is law.”
Drustina snorted dismissively. Whilst bedbound on Bornholm she had studied the rules for transiting the Storebaelt.
“The King in council decides the tariff. I know the law as well as any and it should be posted for public view. This was agreed many years ago before any here were born. It was always thus. If the rules have changed, show me the King’s writ.”
The Jarl smirked contemptuously.
“The king’s writ hardly runs anywhere in Danmark save his own bed.”
His remark raised a roar of sycophantic laughter from his henchmen but Drustina was not to be cowed. She stared directly into the jarl’s face with a level unflinching gaze that clearly demonstrated she was unafraid. Drustina had long learned the lessons of dealing with bullies and one of the first lessons was to keep them guessing. Uncertainty always unsettled a bully.
“You speak of the king’s bed as though you know it intimately.”
The jarl’s smirk faded to a glare as he fumed at the slur on his masculinity. Drustina recognised the danger and half turned in anticipation of some sort of violent response. He snarled at her then approached menacingly as he tried to make her afraid.
“I’ve known plenty of women’s beds intimately you arrogant bitch, and I’ll know yours if you don’t retract that remark.”
“I’ll retract nothing. I’ll pay the proper dues for our transit through the Storebaelt and be on my way to see that same king you’ve just maligned.”
The jarl’s expression changed again from threat to caution then bravado.
“The king? The king you say; and what will he do? He hardly knows how to raise his dick, let alone a sword.”
This brought another roar of amusement from his cronies but Drustina still showed no sign of backing down. She returned to the issue at hand.
“The tariff if you please, the legal tariff that is or I’ll pay you nothing.”
“And I’ll have to imprison you for failure to pay.”
“For that you’ll have to arrest me and I don’t see anybody here who seems capable of that. It’ll take a real man.”
This was too much for the Jarl and he gave another roar as he reached to draw his sword. Drustina had already anticipated his move as she finished her words. Her sword was already half drawn before the jarl had even stabilised his scabbard to pull his heavy battle sword. Even as he looked up to measure his strike, he felt the needle sharp point of Drustina’s razor-sharp, Toledo blade pricking his sword hand.
“No, I said a real man not some lumbering, greedy ox. Put your sword back or prepare to die ... like slaughtered kine.” She added for good measure.
The jarl’s face greyed, not with fear but shock at the magical speed of her sword’s appearance.
“God bitch! Where did you learn to draw a sword like that?”
“In places you would fear to tread. Now, I won’t ask again; the tariff please, the correct tariff as declared and stamped by the king’s council.”
To reinforce her words she gently pressed her sword point into the back of his hand to draw a substantial amount of blood. The jarl cursed and whipped his hand back from his sword handle. Drustina did not advance to follow his hand for that would have brought her in range of his other hand while laying her sword on the wrong side of the jarl’s chain-mailed body. Instead she deftly shifted the point sideways to rest it on the jarl’s overstuffed belly. The needle point quickly slipped between the crude single links of his chainmail tabard and he felt it gently pricking his flesh through the leather under-jerkin. This alone told him the woman held no ordinary sword and, if it was so well made and sharp enough to slice between the single links of his chain mail, then she was no ordinary woman to possess such a weapon.
His gaze followed the glistening blade from his belly to her hand and then up her arm to meet her face and eyes ... cold, grey unflinching eyes. Tha jarl knew a person could be judged through their eyes and this girl’s eyes showed no fear.
“Dammit woman! Who are you?”
“Did you not read the declaration I gave to your toll collector?”
The jarl had ignored the document delivered to his table earlier; the size of Drustina’s flotilla had excited his greed and he had hurried down to the quay to assess the pickings. Now he was beginning to regret his hastiness for the bitch’s sword was prodding harder into his sensitive navel. As he cast about for some face-saving diversion, the ‘bitch’ only exacerbated his discomfort.
“The tariff please? I won’t ask again.”
“Who are you? Damn you?”
“I am Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin; Lioness of Carthage. You might know me better as Drustan, slayer of Blueface!”
The jarls jaw sagged as a deafening silence descended on the scene. As his cronies fell silent, they eased themselves backwards to widen the space between the ‘bitch’s’ sword, their leader and themselves. Drustina sensed the danger and she glanced sideways at what seemed to be the jarl’s immediate lieutenant. She decided that some way she had to keep the initiative. She spoke softly but with iron in her voice as she caught and held the lieutenants’ gaze.
“You! Do you know where the official tariff is kept; that is the one with the kings' seal?”
“Yes. It’s in the great hall in the chamberlain’s chest.”
“Go and get it, or this tub of lard meets its’ maker.”
She gently pressed the sword tip harder into the jarls’ belly and he jerked sensitively before nodding over his shoulder to his unseen lieutenant. The man stepped briskly towards the great hall then re-emerged quickly, waving the scroll and followed by a protesting chamberlain.”
Drustina asked Tara to read it for the two women were the only members present, besides the jarl and the chamberlain who were able to read Latin. After skimming through the preamble Tara arrived at the important bits pertaining to the cargoes they carried. Then she cursed as she interpreted the roman numerals into the faster Arabic maths.
“Bloody hell sister, they still use the old numbers!”
Drustina did not move her stare from the jarl’s face as Tara declared the tariffs and summated the charges.
“All in all sister, I make it about one hundred and five crowns. I’ve not counted our women’s personal jewellery and the men’s property. The writ makes no mention of charges against personal property. Oh, and it’s dated as valid in perpetuity until the council changes it.”
Drustina nodded and addressed the jarl.
“So Jarl, that writ does not enable you to raise your own charges nor is there any mention of ‘seasonal adjustments’.”
The jarls expression darkened but Drustina nodded with satisfaction then motioned her head to the jarl before nodding towards the harbour.
“You wanted to search our boats and you have done so. I have paid the correct tax for transiting these straits. Those taxes are supposed to pay for my protection and the protection of my ships. I cannot be certain that those picket ships that you control, will not try to attack us and our ships to steal what is rightfully ours. Your past record in this matter gives me little reassurance. To remove my doubts I will use your fat carcass to ensure my protection and my pratique. I’m taking you with me to the king. If anybody has any objections they had better make them now and back up their protest with a sword. I will pay your exchequer the one hundred and five crowns and I will collect a receipt from the chamberlain but you are my hostage until I, my people and my ships are clear and safe at the kings’ court. Come!"
Her words and sword left no room for argument but to emphasise her determination, she prodded his belly yet harder again and the jarl let out a yelp of despair as he started walking backwards towards the little harbour. By making him walk backwards, Drustina reinforced the image of the jarls’ capitulation. That image made her intentions loud and clear to the jarls’ cronies. Drustina had plans for the crooked jarl.
Within an hour they had boarded ‘The Angry Mermaid’ and reached the point of safe departure outside the harbour as Drustina’s ships filled their sails. Once clear of the jarl’s picket ships they anchored again, Drustina, Tara and the Jarl slept the night on the Mermaid while her loyal crew stood close watch. During the night, Heingist slipped ashore to check his family. He returned with unpleasant news.
“My family have been evicted from their land. My sisters work as virtual slaves for burghers in the city and my father was killed fighting to defend our family farm. Some crony of the jarl claims title to our farm while my family struggle to keep bodies and souls together.”
Drustina nodded sagely. It was little more than she had expected. When she turned to confront the jarl he smirked with conceit. She spoke softly.
“I wouldn’t feel so confident jarl. This matter needs to be resolved by the king!”
He snorted derisively.
“Pah! The king is a poodle, he thinks only of his bed and the freaks who share it with him. He cannot even get his queen with child and he’s been on the throne these past four years.”
Drustina fell into a thoughtful silence. The jarl had just given her too much information and the seeds of a plan were formulating in her brain.”
“Freaks you say. What sorts of freaks?”
“He is a pervert, a queer, a bum-boy! His bed-fellows are as sick as he is.”
The jarls’ words did not enrage Drustina. She had often heard herself called worse, though never to her face. Usually it was some remark she was not supposed to have heard or something reported to her by her more sympathetic lieutenants; lieutenants who had fought beside her and held her in huge affection and trust for her bravery, honesty and leadership. Drustina turned and smiled slightly as she spoke softly to Heingist so that the jarl could not hear.
“This is a matter for the kings’ court and the kings’ law. We shall take this matter and this jarl to face the king.”
“Will it do any good my lady,” Heingist sighed. “You heard the man; the king is a total fop and good for nothing pertaining to kingship.”
Drustina smiled.
“I have a plan Heingist. Once again I shall use my duality to advantage. My duality is my way to the kings’ bed and the kings’ favour. Fortunately the jarl hasn’t realised that and I don’t think he will. His image of the king is of some misogynistic, limp wristed fop. My gut feeling tells me the king is not a misogynist, he simply prefers men for his pleasures and I won’t condemn him for that. God knows, I had my own issues with the bigots on those scores. I’ll wager though, that he loathes his own jarls who have stolen his authority. If I can find a way to recover his authority for him, the king might see his way to favour me."
“And how will you do that mi-lady?”
“Dunno’ yet. I’m sailing without a pilot or chart in those waters.”
Heingist smiled at the metaphor. Provided he could win back his lands for his sisters and his mother he would have fulfilled his duties as a son. As for his own life, well he would like to hang onto the ‘lionesses’ tail for a few more years. She never seemed to lack for adventure and the journeyings seemed to take her everywhere. He returned to the tiller while Drustina rejoined Tara and her twins.
The following morning Drustina was awakened by one of her officers who advised that they were in the approaches to Cubenhavn. She smiled wryly, Heingist had demonstrated his initiative and confidence by bringing the flotilla safely around the islands then having the rest of the flotilla wait a couple of hours astern while he brought the Angry Mermaid to the very portals of the havn. He had only woken her when necessity and form dictated. Even as she stretched and relieved herself over the stern, a picket boat approached. Heingist called with amusement.
“They might think your expressing your opinion ma-am, you’d better hide your arse.”
Drustina grinned and ignored his remarks. The Angry Mermaid was after all a fighting ship and she led fighting men. The wives had retired to Sister Catherines bigger, more spacious and comfortable merchant vessel that was following six hours behind. Only Tara and the twins remained on the Mermaid.
Heingist spilled some wind from the sails and slowed down to allow the picket boat an approach. The toll officer studied her lines before coming alongside. He approached Heingist who then directed him to Drustina.
“Sorry ma-am. You are of course the Lioness of Carthage.”
Drustina nodded and replied.
“News travels fast hereabouts.”
“Not really ma-am. Jarl Guthrun mentioned you in his last despatch while you healed your bones on Bornholm. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Yes. A good man that Guthrun, he’s honest and fair.”
The toll officer smiled as he recognised the fat jarl of Thyne who had a reputation for greed and coercion. He read between the lines of Drustina’s remark and quickly sussed out the hidden message. To avoid any possible misunderstanding or future misfortune the officer quickly changed tack.
“His majesty King Athun will meet you immediately. Your reputation precedes you.”
Drustina smiled and motioned to Heingist to bring the Mermaid into port. The toll officer remained aboard and he chatted at length with Drustina until they were alongside. On the quay a troop of armed men met them and a very fresh faced, young officer approached. He saluted and invited Drustina to mount the horse provided.
“The king awaits you Your majesty.”
“Thank you. I’ll use my own horse thank you. My lieutenant Heingist can take that horse.”
The office was startled by Drustina’s soft call and a beautiful white horse stepped nimbly from the Mermaid onto the quay. His eyes widened further as the woman then mounted the unsaddled mare with ease and motioned for the officer to lead the way. He realised at last that the legend was true. She was obviously a consummate horsewoman and the sword scabbard sat easily at her belt. She was also a magnificent specimen of beautiful womanhood and any Viking worth his salt would have been proud to take her as his bride. Drustina caught him looking and she smiled. Then she deliberately sat fully erect and thrust out her assets. The young officer glanced away and she saw him secretively ‘adjusting’ his britches. He caught her watching and he blushed a deep scarlet. To ease his embarrassment she carried on chatting as if nothing had happened.
“Tell me of King Athun. Is he a good king?”
The officer hesitated nervously then he spoke frankly.
“He could be if the jarls had their wings clipped. He shows good sense but he lets the jarls walk all over him.”
Drustina realised the man was being honest but diplomatic. She made her own declaration.
“I am not a judgemental queen, as we are born, so we must live.”
The young officer hesitated then frowned slightly as he sensed the unspoken message. He decided to be bold.
“Is it true ma-am that you are, as they say, afflicted?”
Drustina deliberately let go a tinkling feminine laugh then spoke to re-assure the man.
“Well sir, I wouldn’t say afflicted, I would rather say I am blessed.”
The officer frowned curiously again.
“Blessed ma-am? How so.”
She decided to play the femininity card to its maximum advantage as she gently placed her hand on his wrist and lowered her eyelids provocatively. At twenty three summers she presented as a perfectly delicious maid and the officers’ eyes widened appreciatively.
“Firstly sire, I must let you know that I am at heart a woman though you will soon learn I am a queen and a warrior queen at that. Do not let this maidenly form deceive you. I can fight, cross swords and fire a war bow with the best of them. I can also fuck with the best of them as well.”
These words startled the officer. To hear such coarseness from the lips of a woman so beautiful came as a complete surprise.
He also turned at the sound of Heingists’ explosive snort of amusement. Heingist wagged his head as he explained.”
“Don’t be misled young man. Beneath that stunning exterior lies a heart of gold and a will of iron. I can assure you every man who has ever fought alongside the Lioness of Carthage would follow her from here to Hades thence to Valhalla and back ... and they would die a thousand times for her.”
It was Drustina’s turn to chuckle as she also turned to smile at Heingist. The twist of her torso parted the neck way of her leather jerkin and her delicious orbs struggles to escape while the curve of her neck exaggerated her grace. The young officers’ eyes nearly popped as Drustina addressed Heingist.
“Why that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said of me Heingist, thank you.”
Heingist drew his sword, saluted her and kissed it’s hilt as he finished.
“But you know it’s true ma-am. We all love you.”
Heingist returned his sword with equal skill and the young officer realised that his guests were battle hardened veterans.
Well, after completing 'The Ram' (not very satisfactorily I might add.) I've returned to 'The Angry mermaid.'Lets see if I can do a better job with this story.
Bev.
The Angry Mermaid 52
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 52
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
The Angry Mermaid. 52.
The early summer sun slid up the celestial plane in the north-east to once again remind Drustina just how far north they were. She peered from under her skins, reluctant to rise until Heingist appeared with some warmed ale and she smiled appreciatively.
“Ooo-ooh. That’s just the thing. I’m thinking somebody must have found some coals while I was trucking with the jarl; is he awake by the way?”
Heingist grinned.
“He is my lady and protesting his being kidnapped.”
“He should have put up more of a fight then; him and his sycophants.”
Heingist snorted dismissively.
“He’s a bloody coward, him and his sons. Here’s some bread and heavy cheese to help down the ale. Be careful, it’s strong.”
“Have we run out of wine then?”
“No mi-lady, but some of the crew managed to buy some beer when we were ashore and we’re using it to supplement the wine.”
Drustina nodded as her babies reached for the cheese and ale. She let Tara feed them while she addressed her own hunger. After completing her breakfast, she ordered the Mermaid to be slowed down, then she pushed her curvaceous arse over the stern and relieved herself. Next she stripped naked before hanging from the man-ropes with her feet jammed against a stay bar and lowering her arse down to the Mermaids’ wake and using the racing water to wash her privates clean. It was an excellent way for a woman to wash her private parts, provided the ship was going slowly. Her own personal ritual had caught on and several of the other, more athletic women, including Tara, took turns to follow suite while their sisters manned the helm and sheets and the men ate their food up forward. When she hauled herself inboard, she indulged in a new luxury accorded the women since leaving the Baltic; that was the use of a small amount of scarce fresh water to rinse her parts of salt before dressing again. This was becoming essential as the Mermaid approached the open Northern Sea where the water got progressively more salty than the Baltic waters.
Thus refreshed and douched, Drustina returned to the bow cuddy to speak with the jarl.
“We have decided to visit King Athun to plead for my navigator’s lands.”
“How so?” The jarl scorned.
Drustina decided to come clean and she explained.
“My navigator was once a freeman of the Isle of Fyn, your earldom. You might remember him better as the boy who defeated your second son for trying to change the boundaries of their land. His name is Heingist."
The jarl frowned momentarily then declared that Heingist had broken his banishment. Drustina lied outright.
“He did not willingly come here, I kidnapped Heingist when I learned that he knew the waters of Danmark.”
“He has still broken the rules of his exile. He has another three years to run.”
“Oh so you remember him that well do you? Well I suppose you would, considering he killed your son. Now it seems his family have been ejected from their farm, how is this so?”
“They refused to pay the rent to the jarl.”
“There were no rents. The family held the land as freehold.”
“The rents were introduced by me, to pay for the upkeep of the men at arms.”
“Oh, so where is there a kings’ writ from council authorising this. Your men at arms are sworn allegiance to the king and the king pays their stipend. You just house them and direct them to collect the transit dues. ”
“Not any more, the king does as we jarls tell him. He is a weakling and a pervert.”
“I didn’t ask about the kings’ personality, I asked if there is a kings’ writ, drawn up in council and signed by the king.”
“We don’t need that idiot’s signature, his writ no longer runs. The jarls make the law now.”
“Oh, by what authority?”
“The king would face our might if he refused.”
“Oh! So you took this so-called right, this authority by force?”
“Might is right.”
“Really Jarl; I think those are unwise words coming from a man in your position. You are in effect my prisoner.”
“You have no right to take me a prisoner. I am a jarl! You tricked me and my men, you broke the law!” The jarl snarled.
“Whose’ law,” Drustina smiled softly.
“The ki-; shit!”
Drustina continued smiling.
“Go on. Say it. The kings’ what?”
The jarl slumped with defeat as he mumbled softly.
“ The king ... the kings’ law.”
“But you say the kings’ writ no longer runs, you say the jarls make the law now. Have they passed a law preventing kidnap and if so, where is it lodged? Where is it writ?”
The jarl fell silent. He knew that the jarls had written no laws they had simply usurped King Athun's authority. Drustina sniffed contemptuously.
“I think we’ll wait until the kings’ verdict when we arrive at his court. Til then you remain shackled.”
The jarl cursed but remained securely attached by wrist shackle to the stout oak pulpit at the foot of the forward mast. He was going nowhere. Drustina turned from him and went to join Tara with her twins. Heingist was left to make all speed for Cubenhavn while Eric, Carl and Urthos remained with their ships to protect the rest of the women and cargo in Sister Catherines’ merchant vessel. Soon The Mermaid was far ahead of the other ships and out of sight bound for Cubenhavn.
Drustina woke to find the sun unexpectedly high as The Mermaids’ motion betrayed her having stopped. As she wallowed in the short chop Drustina peered out from her skins as Heingist approached. She smiled at his having shown good initiative by making a fast passage and allowing Drustina to sleep.
“Where are we now?”
“We’re just off Cubenhavn ma-am. The picket boat approaches.”
Drustina lurched out from under her skins and with a soft curse bared her arse over the stern to relieve herself. Heingist laughed.
“I don’t think the authorities will approve of you gesture ma-am, baring your arse to them.”
Drustina smirked.
“Why shouldn’t they approve? You and all the men have at different times described it as a delicious arse.”
Heingist snorted with amusement as he was forced to agree.
“Well that’s the truth and no mistake. Look out here comes the toll collector.
Drustina dipped her arse into the cold waters and rinsed her arse with a handful of the sea-grass growing on the weather/water line. As she washed herself she made a note to get The Mermaid careened somewhere tidal. As she was clambering back aboard and tugging up her britches, the toll collector stepped aboard. He went straight to Heingist who promptly pointed to Drustina.
“That’s the captain, the lady with the pale yellow hair.”
The toll officer hesitated for a moment before Drustina approached him and looked him levelly in the eye.
“Don’t be surprised sir; if you seek the captain, I am she.”
“Ah so it is you, we were expecting you, I presume you are the Lioness-of-Carthage.”
“I am. New travels fast.”
“Not really ma-am, Jarl Guthrun sent despatches while you were convalescing at his castle on Bornholm. We expected you to come direct via De Sund though it appears you came via the Storbaelt.”
“We did, it’s wider and safer.”
The toll collector nodded and motioned towards The Havn.
“Well, his majesty awaits your arrival eagerly. Let us make haste.”
Drustina gave a brief nod to Heingist who directed the crew to make sail immediately for Cubenhavn. That single, almost invisible action removed all doubt from the toll collectors’ mind. ‘The woman was obviously in command and that meant she could only be the ‘Lioness’. With the toll collector on board, the Mermaid made excellent speed and swept into the havn with the picket boat left far behind. As they secured the ship, a very young fresh-faced officer approached with a platoon of mounted soldiers. The officer saluted smartly and spoke to Drustina.
“You are the Lioness-of-Carthage I presume.”
“I am.” Drustina agreed.
“Then you will please accompany me to the great hall. I am the captain of the Palace guard. King Athun awaits your arrival with great anticipation. Here is a horse for you.”
Drustina eyed the proffered horse then wagged her head.
“I will ride my own mount lieutenant; my own lieutenant Heingist can take this horse.”
So saying she gave a soft low whistle and a beautiful white mare leapt nimbly from the Mermaid to stand obediently at her shoulder. As Drustina mounted the bareback horse in one smooth, athletic movement the officers’ eyes widened knowledgeably.
‘Here indeed was a well practiced horsewoman!’
He set his own mount to accompany her whilst staring appreciatively at the well worn scabbard that housed what was obviously an excellent sword. Heingist mounted the other horse with equal ease and they set off to the kings’ great hall. As they passed through Cubenhavn Drustina could not help but sense the mood of sullen resentment amongst the towns-people as they stared from their shops and houses or reluctantly stepped aside to let the escort column pass. Meanwhile, the young officer did his best to ignore the oppressive atmosphere as he made small talk whilst trying not to stare at the stunning example of womanhood beside him. Any Viking warrior would have died to have her for a wife. Drustina immediately noticed his wandering eyes so she sat more erect and thrust out her chest to exaggerate her magnificent assets. She smiled as the young officer half turned away in his saddle and surreptitiously adjusted his britches under his tunic. He turned back to realise he had been ‘spotted’ and he blushed scarlet. Drustina gave a knowing chuckle and set the young officer at his ease.
“Don’t worry lieutenant, I’ve had plenty of men react as you just did and I’m used to it. I’m not offended nor am I afraid; in fact I see it as a bit of a compliment. It’s nice to be taken for a woman but do not be mistaken. I can fight or draw a bow or cross swords with the best of them.”
The young officer smiled wanly as Heingist spoke from behind them.
“And she can fuck with the best of them as well!”
Drustina let out a snort of coarse laughter as the young officer let out a gasp of astonished disbelief at the lieutenants’ insubordination. Once again Drustina put him at ease.
“Don’t worry lieutenant; Heingist and I have been through plenty together. If I objected to the men’s rough ways, I would never command their respect. We have fought alongside each other on several occasions.”
“Well said milady,” Heingist agreed, “and we would all follow you to hell and back.”
Drustina exchanged a smile with the young lieutenant, a smile that said it all. Drustina’s command was won through respect, trust and loyalty. The young officer felt a small pang of jealousy for he had not yet seen a single arrow shot in anger. Like all young soldiers he was desperate to see action, to test himself and find out how he would stand under attack. As an officer in the palace guard of a king who seemed fearful of conflict or combat, he felt he would never taste the spoils of war. Drustina sensed his frustration and spoke quietly.
“Believe me sir, war is no game; it is a filthy cruel business with no honour and no glory.”
“But you can hold your honour true, you have fought; and won. You need never count your courage cheap.”
Heingist interrupted to add emphasis to Drustinas’ words.
“There is no honour nor courage in the thick of battle lad. It’s all fear, and sheer desperation. And milady will agree.”
Drustina turned around with battle saddened eyes to confirm.
“Aye Heingist, that’s the truth.”
She turned again to the young lieutenant.
“The only thing you fight for is your comrade who’s fighting for you. There’s no glory in it. That all comes after the battle when orators and story tellers make play with the facts and the truth.
Are these the gates to the kings’ palace?”
The young lieutenant nodded thoughtfully and called the guard. The gates swung open to reveal a well kept courtyard with accommodations running up either side to a great hall. The lieutenant motioned with his hand.
“The king is waiting, we can go straight in.”
They dismounted, and the lieutenant noted once again that the maid slid down of her horse just as the men did. Swinging her leg over her mares’ neck and just dropping down over the animals’ withers.
“You ride like a man my lady.”
“If I’m to fight like my men I must ride and dress like them.”
“Why yes my lady. Come let us meet King Athun.”
Drustina smiled inwardly as she sensed Heingists’ presence close behind her. He was a man prepared to die for his queen and had made it his duty to stay close at all times. Sometimes it irked Drustina but mostly she was glad to know her back was covered, especially in strange places. From the sunlit summer courtyard into the gloom of the great hall was a big contrast in light and for a moment Drustina paused to accustom her eyes. Eventually she picked up the king sitting in a shaft of light at the end of the hall so she stepped boldly forward. Immediately two armed men stepped from the shadows as though to stop her progress. The king called out.
“You cannot come any closer unless you disarm.”
Drustina paused, bemused by this attitude.
“When kings meet sir, they meet as equals, I see you have your sword, why should I not bear mine?”
“It is a precaution. I know not who or where my enemies might be.”
Drustina shrugged. She turned to Heingist.
“Are you happy to wait back here if I relinquish my sword?”
Heingist paused thoughtfully then in the gloom he caught his comrades’ expression as Drustina rolled her eyes back slightly to demonstrate she still had her dagger secreted under her jerkin in its shoulder scabbard. Knowing how adept Drustina was with said weapon he agreed. He did however make his own point.
“I am prepared to stand aside here provided those two armed men surrender their swords also.”
“The men hesitated uncertainly as Drustina spoke again to the king, echoing Heingists’ reservations.”
“My lieutenants’ reservation seems fair to me Athun. I will relinquish my sword provided these two guards relinquish theirs.”
One of the guards spoke.
“We cannot relinquish our swords.”
Drustina turned a cold baleful eye upon him.
“I was addressing the king! Be quiet soldier!”
The man fumed as he objected to her addressing him as a common soldier.
“I am not a soldier woman, I am a jarl!”
“And I am a queen. Jarls bow to queens!”
“Damn you. Who do you think you are?”
Heingist intervened softly.
“The lady is the ‘Lioness of Carthage’ jarl, I would mind you to keep a civil tongue.”
The jarl flashed a nervous glance to his opposite crony. He had no idea who or what the ‘Lioness of Carthage’ was but it sounded impressive. He then made his fatal mistake.
“King Athun!” he asked somewhat brusquely, “do you know who ‘The Lioness-of-Carthage’ is?”
“I do jarl and might I respectfully suggest that you mind your manners in front of her.”
Drustina was intrigued. It seemed that the jarls were in control and the king was the subservient one. Then the penny dropped.
The jarls were in control!
She turned to Heingist and whispered her conclusion.
“Well comrade, it seems the king is not master even in his own household. What should we do?”
Heingist smiled a little evilly.
“Push a little harder my lady. Demand that the king respond and act surprised if he doesn’t. Then we’ll dig the worms out of the woodwork.”
Drustina recognised Heingists agenda. The man wanted justice for his sisters and only the king’s law could enforce that. Somehow or other, the kings’ law would have to be restored. She turned again to address King Athun.
“So your majesty. Are we all to relinquish our swords or am I to remain this far from you for the whole visit?”
Athun seemed slightly flustered, as though waiting for permission from the jarls. He stared again at the girl before him then glanced nervously towards the jarls. Finally he addressed both the visitors and the jarls in a neutral tone.
“I see no reason why there have to be swords present. Can not everybody set aside their swords?”
Drustina showed no hesitation and she deftly drew her sword from its scabbard then handed it to Heingist.
“Look after this comrade; you know her value to me.”
Heingist nodded for he understood perfectly Drustinas’ attachment to her precious Toledo sword. He respectfully took the sword to slide it into his belt band while Drustina then turned to the jarls.
“Well gentlemen. Are you going to obey your king and forego your weapons?”
They realised their hand was forced. If they refused, they exposed their illegality in usurping the kings’ control. Reluctantly they unsheathed their swords and set them aside. Drustina then stepped boldly up to the king. At the foot of his throne she gave a little bob of respect then proffered her hand for Athun to take.
“Your majesty, firstly might I present myself formally? I am Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin, formally of the Gangani tribe; Lioness of Carthage, Great Crocodile of the Nile, Consort The Pharo Astos, Defender of Constantia and Knight of Iberia.”
Athun rose to greet her for Drustina was the first visitor to meet with the king without the express permission of the jarls. His expression of relief told Drustina everything and she decided to take the initiative.
“I would take audience with you sir, privately.”
The king glanced uncertainly at the jarls but Drustina pointedly ignored them. Officially she knew nothing of the kings' situation and she decided to keep it that way. By acknowledging the kings’ authority at every juncture she pointedly embarrassed the jarls and kept them ‘on the back foot’. She continued to ignore them even as she stepped up to seize the kings’ hand to shake it.
“So my royal brother. Shall we break bread in your private office?”
“I think it best my jarls accompany me,” Athun replied nervously.
Drustina scanned the jarls with a hard stare then wagged her head.
“I’m afraid brother, the information I have to impart would be for a kings’ ears only and privately at that, shall we?”
At this the jarls could restrain themselves no further. The other jarl interrupted.
“Madam, I’m afraid we must be present at the audience. Those are the rules.”
Drustina span round and flashed angry eyes.
“What rules jarl. Who are you to dictate the kings’ companionship? When monarchs meet they meet as equals and they meet in freedom. My information is for the kings’ ears alone!”
So saying, she stepped to the door beside the throne, opened it and invited the king to join her. This action was the last straw to the jarls and the older one stepped to obstruct her. The moment he laid a hand on her wrist Drustina growled a warning.
“You don’t assault the royal person without consent soldier. Unhand me now!”
His grip tightened partly from frustration and partly from fear. Fear in as much as he was frightened of what the other jarls might say if they discovered that the king had been enjoying private audiences; and frustration that a mere woman should choose to belittle his authority and power. He went to tighten his grip on her wrist even further, hoping to hurt her slender wrist just enough to make her realise who had the power, the physical strength to enforce the will of the jarls. As he squeezed he motioned to the other jarl to watch the visitors’ companion Heingist. Then he let out a curse of pain as a sharp pain lanced up his arm. His hand instantly became numb and useless as it fell from Drustinas’ wrist.
“Aah! Damn you bitch. My bloody hand! It’s numb!”
“I see no blood soldier, but if you wish it to be bloodied so that you will not look so stupid to your peers, I will gladly bloody it ... scar it even. Let that be a lesson, you don’t assault queens, especially fighting queens."
He glared at Drustina partly in fear and partly in confusion.
“What did you do?”
“Never mind what I did, let that be a lesson to you. That hand will be numb for several minutes, long enough for me to despatch you to Hades.”
The jarl made to strike at Drustina with his other hand but he froze as a glistening dagger appeared in her hand as if by magic. It’s sharp point was already pricking his raised hand.
The jarls’ anger turned to pure fear as he realised the danger. Drustina pursed her lips contemptuously.
“Let that be your second lesson jarl. This is the Lioness of Carthage with whom you are in dispute, and the lioness is queen of the animal kingdom. You are obviously a somewhat dumb animal because so far, it has taken you two lessons to learn not to mess with me. I’ve despatched bigger brutes than you. Now step back and make way for your liege lord, the king.”
“You’ll not get away with this you bitch!”
“I already have Jarl. Now move back!”
She backed up her warning with a gentle stab of her dagger and the jarl cursed as blood was drawn.
“Go on! Fuck off you thug. I decide with whom I’ll talk; not you!”
Her language shocked her as he stepped back from the door protesting loudly.
“You carry a hidden weapon; you went in breach gentlemanly conduct!”
Drustina let of a loud effeminate squeal of amusement to emphasise her next words.
“Perhaps you’ve failed to notice Jarl, I’m not a gentleman ... I’m a lady!”
With that she nodded to King Athun to join her in the kings’ private suite then closed the door behind her with an emphatic clunk of the latch. Athun seized his opportunity.
“That was unexpected. You carried a secret weapon.”
“Yes, I only agreed to surrender my sword.” Drustina grinned. “I did not agree to disarm myself entirely. Like any other woman, I am allowed to protect myself. My self-protection is just a lot more effective than others of my sex.”
Athun grinned nervously then observed.
“Yes obviously. We will have to be quick, he will be reporting to the other jarls even as we speak.”
“How many are there in your castle?”
“Normally there are six.”
“And from their attitude I’m thinking they are your jailers not your guards.”
Athuns’ face clouded as he nodded. Drustina didn’t allow herself the luxury of criticising the king for allowing such subversion to have lost him his throne; she needed the king to be re-established in order that her loyal lieutenant and navigator should recover his familys’ farm. It was a pretty safe bet that other such iniquities were happening all over the kingdom. The rule by jarls had brought virtual lawlessness and the kings’ law needed to be restored. The news that there were only six jarls actually present reassured her. She needed more information.
“Have you any loyal followers ... people who might support you?”
“The only loyal men at arms I have are the escort who accompanied you from the dock.”
Drustina smiled.
“The young officer and those guards in the fancy uniforms?”
“The same,” the king confessed.
Drustina’s mind was working quickly. If she could move quickly and surprise the resident jarls she might just pull off a bloodless coup.
“While that idiot is fetching his cronies we’ll lay a trap. Are you any good with a sword?”
Athun visibly rankled.
“Of course I am, when I was disempowered I was a-bed and un-armed, or I would have made a fight of it. I stupidly trusted the jarls then; I’m a wiser but poorer king now.”
Drustina easily read the frustrated disappointment in the kings’ voice. His shoulders were slumped and his whole demeanour was utter dejection.
“How long have we got before that idiot returns with his cronies?”
Athun shrugged.
“It depends where the others are. If they’re all in or around the castle then perhaps twenty minutes. If they’re out and about the city and he needs to gather them all together, who knows.”
“We’ll work on the twenty minute plan then.”
The kings’ eyes widened.
“Are you telling me you’ve got a plan!?”
“Well no, not really. But we need to move quickly, the sooner the better.”
“Move how, move where?”
“Against them, surprise them just as they surprised you.”
“But we are only two or three.”
“What about your personal retinue, cannot that fresh-faced young captain swing a sword, and what of the troop that escorted me in? Are they loyal to you?”
The king frowned.
“The young officer Bjorn is loyal but I would hate to see him hurt.”
Drustina suddenly realised and she spoke softly.
“You mean you’re fond of him?”
Athun nodded guiltily but Drustina simply nodded her understanding.
“You mean you’re more than fond of him.”
“Well ... Yes I am, but he’s inexperienced with a sword.”
“Do the jarls know that?”
“I don’t think so. He’s never been called upon to fight.”
“Right; well ... he can make up the numbers, what of the escorts?”
“Some of them have seen combat. They volunteered to continue as my personal escort when the jarls seized control. It’s simply a cosmetic arrangement. The jarls had to maintain some semblance of legality.”
Drustina pondered momentarily then braved the direct question.
“Did they volunteer because they uuuhhm, because they have the uuuhhm ... same inclinations.”
Athuns’ face clouded again as he nodded dumbly. Drustina laid her hand gently on his trembling wrist.
“Fear not Athun. I have walked your walk. You have my sympathy and my support ... and the support of my troop if push comes to shove.”
“Your troop. Where is that?”
“They’ll be here by this evening.”
“How do we hold off the jarls between now and then?”
Surprise and speed as I said just now. We must move now, before the jarls can organise. I noticed there was little security when I crossed the courtyard.”
So saying, Drustina returned to the hall and called to Heingist.
“Where are those two jarls?”
“They left just now.”
Drustina turned to Athun.
“Is that young officer totally loyal?”
Athuns’ eyes nearly teared up with defensive anger.
“Of course he is, we are ...”
“I know what you are Athun. I do not judge you for that. I thought I’d made that clear!”
Athuns demeanour relaxed as he saw not only the acceptance in the fighting queens’ eyes but also the encouraging nod from Heingist as he reiterated his leaders’ words.
“Truly your majesty, we do not judge. Shall I call him in?”
Athun nodded as Drustina added.
“We’d best call the whole troop. Sixteen swords are better than four. Are they all as you and the young officer?”
Athun nodded again.
“The jarls made a mockery and gave me a bodyguard of ...”
Drustina scowled as she finished Athuns’ sentence.
“Like minded troops. Yes, I thought so as we were escorted by them. That would figure, but they are loyal aren’t they?”
“Totally. They are always getting into fights with the jarls’ men.”
Drustina nodded sagely and turned to Heingist who was already poised to go and collect the royal troop of a dozen guards. She nodded and he was gone immediately. Drustina then considered another angle.
“Where is your wife, the queen?”
“Probably in her quarters. The jarls keep her locked up.”
“What! Why the hell do they do that?”
“I am not allowed to see her. There is a bishop who preaches that the sins of the fathers pass unto the third and fourth generations. He interprets this to mean that if I am a sinner, then my children will be the same; you know, bad blood, like me. By denying me access to my wife and denying my wife the opportunity to conceive a child by me or anybody else, they hope to stop any chance of my ‘disease’ polluting the royal line.”
“Bloody hell!” Drustina cursed softly. “That’s fucking crazy. My children are all normal, both the ones I bore and the ones I fathered.”
Athun stared at her before daring to broach the subject.
“I was wondering about that. I wanted to speak to you about it.”
“Yeah, well not now not here, there isn’t time. Ah! Here’s Heingist.”
A shadow filled the doorway as Drustina’s lieutenant and the entourage of the royal bodyguard slipped quietly into the great hall. Heingist also had some information.
“We know where the jarls are plotting.”
Drustina smiled with evident satisfaction.
“Oh, do tell.”
Two of the guardsmen were on duty in the courtyard as the two jarls who left this hall went straight to the gate house. They are still there. You will notice I only have twelve of the guardsmen, the others are watching the gatehouse.”
“How many men at arms are there in the gatehouse?” Drustina asked.
“Usually about half a dozen but two have been sent into the town to gather the other jarls.”
“Roughly how many jarls and men are there in the whole of Cubenhavn?”
Athun answered.
“About a hundred. They’ll be scattered all over the city. It will take time for them to assemble.”
“Right, the faster we move, the sooner some sort of law is restored and the sooner my lieutenant Heingist gets justice..”
“Is this what it’s all about?” Athun asked.
Drustina could see the sense of disappointment in Athuns’ demeanour and she wagged her head.
“No brother king. It’s about justice for all and that includes you. I’ve already seen what the jarls are capable of. There must be justice; justice tempered with reason and respect.”
Athun smiled ironically.
“Fine words sister queen, but how are we to enforce it. There are perhaps a dozen jarls in the city but another dozen back on their estates. I have no army.”
It was Drustina’s turn to smile.
“You don’t get out much do you Athun?”
“I’m not allowed to. The jarls control my very movement.”
Drustina turned to the young lieutenant of the kings’ guard.
“What do you think of the situation in the city sir?”
“The people are angry ma-am.”
“Yes. I sensed that as we passed from dock to castle. What are they angry about?”
“The situation with the rulers.”
“Who are ...?”
“The jarls my lady. The kings’ power has been usurped.”
“Yes. That was my feeling also as we passed through their streets. D’you think they are for the king or against him?”
“The ordinary people are against whoever rules at this moment; the more informed know that the king is not master in his own castle.”
“That seems a reasonable appraisal. We’ll have to move very quickly. The first step is to overpower the occupants of the gate-house. We have to first secure the castle. Is there a way of getting across the courtyard to the gatehouse without being seen?”
“Only through the queens’ quarters and she’s guarded.” Athun explained.
"How many guards?"
“Usually two.”
“Hmm. That’s not many.”
The low numbers that Athun and the palace bodyguard were telling Drustina made her realise the jarls were either unable to afford a proper garrison to imprison the king or they were getting sloppy because the king seemed to be a defeated person. When she had first met Athun he certainly presented as a man broken in spirit. She wondered just how much support he would offer when it came to a real fight. Her conclusion was to strike while the iron was hot so she motioned to the king and two of the guards.
“We’ll see what’s going on in the queens’ quarters then if we reach the gatehouse, we’ll signal you. Lead on Athun, you know the best way.”
Athun was about to step out when Drustina gently touched his arm to remind him.
“Best you remove all that chainmail and fancy ceremonial armour. It might be alright for receiving visitors but not for creeping around castles.”
Athun chuckled and immediately stripped to his leather jerkin and britches. The two royal bodyguards did likewise and soon they were creeping silently along the alleyways. On the way, Drustina stopped in the kings’ dressing room and swapped her jerkin and britches for a short length chemise to resemble a woman just risen from her bed. She smiled to herself as she studied the diaphanous garment that reflected the kings’ taste in clothes. Next she secured her sword at her back alongside her dagger so that she looked like a lady’s maid visiting her toilet. Finally, she armed herself with a small cosh from the king’s private bedroom arsenal and then she secreted it somewhere very, very personal. When they reached the door to the queens’ quarters Drustina knocked and waited. A guard opened the door and stared at her. He obviously presumed she was some sort of ‘lady-in-waiting’ to the queen and he opened the door wider.
“What d’you want?”
“I have a verbal message for the queen from the jarls. She has to give an answer.”
The guard glanced salaciously at Drustinas’ delectable shape mistily enshrouded in the diaphanous chemise and nodded Drustina in. Once past him she checked out the second guard in the next chamber and ascertained there were only two, as the kings’ bodyguard had said. She silently extracted the cosh from her personal ‘lady-place’ and disabled him with a single blow to the head as he sat eating some food. She then returned to speak to the first guard where she passed him a folded piece of parchment and told him.
“You are to take this to the gatehouse. It’s the queens’ reply to the jarls.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
“You were quick.”
“It’s a one word answer; yes or no.”
He nodded, took the parchment, and without thinking to check his companion, he set off down the corridor towards the gatehouse only to be ambushed and killed by Athun before he had turned the second corner. Athun rejoined Drustina just as she was withdrawing her dagger from the second unconscious jarls’ throat. Athun studied the virtually bloodless corpse.
“That was neat and hardly any blood! You’re a cold blooded one and no mistake.”
Drustina wiped her blood-stained fingers on a handy towel and motioned towards the door to the queens’ inner sanctum.
“You’d better speak to your consort. We’ll need her on your side. I don’t think she’d take kindly to having her apartments invaded by a blood-stained stranger like me.”
Athun nodded agreement and tapped gently on the queens’ heavy outer door. A female courtier answered and immediately recognised the king. She knew he was not entitled to visit the queen and she was about the scream the place down but Drustina reacted quickly. She stepped past the king and slammed her fist into the lady courtiers’ solar plexus. The woman gave a choking grunt and collapsed to the floor trying to breath. The king span around and stared stupidly at Drustina.
“You just struck a woman!”
“So!” Replied Drustina. “I am a woman. No fancy chivalry here Athun. It’s life or death and there’s been both in as many minutes. If she’d have actually started to make a noise with her scream, I’d have had to cut her throat. She can be thankful she’s still alive, she’s one of the jarls supporters or she would not have made to scream. Life and death Athun, that’s all there is to it.”
Athuns’ expression hardened as he recognised the cold, steely temperament in the warrior queens’ nature.
“My God! You’re a dangerous woman!”
“And this is dangerous work. You’d better speak to your queen; I’ll warrant she’s behind those doors.”
She nodded towards the double door behind a heavy chorded drape as she took the chord from the drapes and bound the courtier tightly. The woman tried to curse through the gag but Drustina just gave her a deadly glare and she fell fearfully silent. The king tapped gently on the inner doors and softly called his wife's name.
“Elthorn, are you there?”
There was a brief silence and a womans’ voice replied.
“Yes! Who is it?”
“Athun. Your husband.”
There was another short pause then another reply.
“What is your password?”
Athun was about to answer but he felt Drustinas’ sword lying against his neck as Drustina interrupted.
“You said nothing of passwords!”
Athun frowned impatiently.
“It’s our own code.”
“How so?”
“We have always had a secret password so that we know it’s safe to talk.”
“It won’t be secret if you broadcast it here will it? What about this woman, she’s the jarls’ lackey. You’d best write it on this piece of parchment and pass it under the door.”
She reached to the table where the guard had been keeping tabs on visitors and took the parchment to hand to Athun.
“I have no ink.”
Drustina sighed and pointed to the dead guard. There’s ink aplenty on the floor where he bled.”
“I can’t write a word in blood to my wife!”
“Oh by Odins’ bloody eight-legged horse! Why the hell not? We’re wasting bloody time here!”
She snatched the parchment back and dipped her finger in the blood and asked him to whisper the word. Athun hesitated then did as asked. Drustina grinned as she wrote the word.
“Yeah. That would work.”
Then she added her own message.
‘I am the Lioness of Carthage. Athun is beside me! We are friends.’
There was a momentary silence before Elthorn replied.
“Speak in Latin!”
Drustina obliged and a heavy key turned in the lock. Drustina wondered why the queen was allowed to lock herself in then she realised the jarls didn’t even trust each other. The queen could make herself safe so that no jarls would come looking for carnal relations. Drustina smiled inwardly until a pale face appeared at the door. Elthorn looked like death. Drustina turned to Athun and nodded significantly.
“You’d best attend to her.”
Athun stepped forward and caught Elthorn just before she slumped into his arms. He carried her to her bed and gently laid her out as Drustina and Heingist searched the room for any lurking enemies or possibly any secret passages. They found neither and returned to Elthorns’ bed as she recovered. The queen looked up wide-eyed with uncomprehending fear so Drustina sat on the bed beside Athun. Elthorn settled a little as she found a woman in a diaphanous nightgown sitting on her bed. Drustina fingered the tail of her gown and added.
“You’re in no danger Elthorn. We have come to set the situation right.”
The queen stared nervously then asked, “How? My husband is surrounded by enemies.”
“Not now he’s not, not here anyway. I am Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin and this is Heingist, my battle companion.” We are about capturing the castle. You must hide or escape into the town. Put on your outer clothes and choose dark ones for they look less conspicuous. Work clothes would be even better. We will tell you when it’s safe to leave. Now the king says it’s possible to get to the gate house from this part of the castle so we will leave you here until we are ready.”
“The queen nodded and smiled nervously at her estranged husband.”
“Do you trust this woman?”
Athun grimaced uncertainly.
“I have to my lady. I see no other help around here and she is certain death with weapons. Do as she says and wait here.”
With that the trio of Drustina, Heingist and Athun left the queen in her chambers. and slipped back to Athuns’ robbing room for Drustina to change back to her britches whilst leaving the diaphanous blouse to deceive the jarl’s troops. Athun was shocked at Drustina’s casual approach to her nakedness as she changed and even further stunned when he saw her ‘duality’ for the first time.
“My God! It’s true!”
Drustina glanced up as she was stepping into her britches.
“What this; my cock ... yeess it’s true,” she sighed,”I thought you’d have been the last to be upset by it, what with; - you know what and stuff.”
Athun dropped his gaze and nodded his apology.
“Well ... yes, you’re right. I, more than anybody, should have shown sympathy. I’m sorry it was unforgivable of me. It just took me by surprise. I was expecting some sort of peculiarity but not a full blown male organ.”
Drustina smiled briefly to set Athun at his ease then she shrugged.
“It’s of no consequence but to myself. Nobody gets to use or abuse my body without my express permission. They have my sword to answer to if they do... and several have.” She added for good measure. “Come let’s be sorting this gatehouse garrison. That’ll be the first step.”
They re-entered the corridor past Queen Elthorns’ chamber and emerged further along the building to enter the courtyard but a few yards from the guardroom door. A glance across the courtyard confirmed that the young lieutenant and six of the kings’ bodyguard were casually gathered on the other side of the gatehouse. The remaining six were bantering with a group of maids like idle soldiers often did when they flirted. With the men thus innocuously arranged as though the castle was enjoying its normal temper of peace the stage was set. Both guardrooms and exits were covered. It remained for the two groups to invade their respective sides of the gate-house while the third group stood in reserve. Drustina gave a silent signal and the attack began.
Drustina padded forward and appeared in front of the first guard as she gave him a fetching girlish smile. He turned and smiled back as she silently slid her dagger into his ribs. The man gave an almost soundless wheeze as her weapon pierced his heart and the man died in her arms. As she lowered him to the floor Athun watched speechless with shock before turning and whispering to Heingist.
“Cancer eat me! She’s deadly.”
“Just be glad she’s for thee and not agin’ thee. Heingist whispered back. “Now keep close behind her, she’s going to need back up in a minute.”
Athun stepped up close to Drustina as she withdrew the dagger and sliced open the guards’ throat for good measure. Athun gaped in horror.
“Shit woman, was there need for that! The man’s already dead.”
“He still had breath in his lungs. Now he’ll not be able to shout either. This is war Athun. Did you not expect to have to kill men?”
“But show some respect to the corpse woman!” Athun protested in a hoarse, nervous whisper.
“Just shut up and get ready to fight. There’s at least six men in the guard-room and we are three. We’ll have to leap in and surprise them before they can react.”
Before Athun had a chance to protest, Drustina had slipped silently across the narrow alley and crouched in the shadow before motioning to Heingist. Athun did not understand the signal but Heingist did ... ‘seven men ... four seated. Hit the standing men first.’
Heingist whispered the signal's meaning to Athun and when Heingist nodded ‘ready’ Drustina leapt from the shadow into the candle-lit guard room. Heingist followed immediately but Athun hesitated momentarily. Only two guards were immediately disabled and Drustina cursed the king for his hesitation. They should have killed three in the first attack. The seated guards struggled to their feet as the table and chairs were flung aside and Drustina confronted the third standing guard who had managed to draw his sword. In the desperately crowded space her speed and agility served her well but King Athun blundered into her as he tried to account for his hesitancy and he stumbled over her as he struck out at the third guard. Drustina cursed angrily as she was knocked to the floor.
“Dammit you lumbering oaf! Get off me!”
Her curse distracted Heingist who glanced sideways and consequently missed his stroke at the second assailant. Then the trouble really started. As Drustina leapt to her feet the seated guards where now afoot with swords drawn. Suddenly Athun was confronted by not two but three of the guards as they recognised their main assailant. He let out a nervous curse as the guards rightly concentrated on the king. Drustina was now badly positioned to fight more than one of the guards and she cursed furiously as she saw Athun start to wilt under the triple-sworded assault of the guards. Then she had a brainwave and shouted to Heingist in Latin, a language he was beginning to understand if not read or write. Athun, as king, also understood Latin.
“Heingist. Get ready to put out the candles! Athun get ready to step back outside the door.”
Heingist redoubled his assault on his second assailant just as Drustina did hers and the moment Drustina could see that they at least had the upper hands she shouted.”
“Candles!”
Suddenly the guard room was plunged into blackness and Athun flung himself backwards to the floor as Drustina and Heingist redoubled their attacks. The five guardsmen had not orientated themselves as Drustina and Heingist had done and the two facing the battle tested pair were immediately killed. The remaining three were groping angrily in every direction as they mistakenly changed their positions while searching for the king. Heingist and Drustina remained exactly where they were and thus ensured that they would not blindly attack each other. She called to Athun in the pitch blackness as she addressed him again in Latin.
"Crawl backwards towards the door so that Heingist and I don’t attack you!"
Athun squawked acknowledgement just as Drustina felt a body brush past her sword point. She stabbed instantly and the guardsman gave a grunt of agony as Drustina quickly sheathed her sword and drew her dagger. The guard swung blindly with his sword but Drustina had already dropped to one knee. She heard the blade whistle over her head then she reached forward gently with her fingers until she just brushed the mans’ tunic. Having determined just how far he was away from her, she lurched forward and upwards with her dagger and had the satisfaction of fetching up against his belly as her dagger found it’s mark.
‘Thank the gods he isn’t wearing armour,’ she thought as he let out a scream of pain and desperately tried to attack the demon that was now attached to him and repeatedly stabbing his torso. Drustina was in close with her dagger while the guard had only his clumsy sword that now hampered him in the crowded darkness. He tried to swing it again and drive it downwards but as he swung it, the blade struck his companion who let out a loud curse. The confusion mounted as Drustina continued stabbing the guard who now had a grip on her. With each stab however, the guard weakened and he called desperately to his comrades.
“I have the bitch but I am wounded! Help me!”
“Where are you dammit, and stop swinging your damned sword!”
The dying guardsman let out a despairing curse and crashed to the floor as Drustina managed to finally find his heart with the sixth or seventh stab. She felt his grip fail as the man grunted and his sword clattered to the floor. Silently she knelt down and felt for his throat then stopped any further sounds except the bubbling of frothy blood from his lungs as it escaped from his slashed wind-pipe.
Still crouching she found herself against the guardroom table and realised this would make a useful ally. She crept under the table and unsheathed her own sword as she stabbed blindly at about crotch height whilst shouting at Heingist in Latin.
“Stay close to the wall Heingist. I’m under the table!”
“Got that girl. I’m against the wall but more to my right.”
Drustina now had a good idea of Heingists’ location.
After a couple of blind, violent stabs she found a target and her sword pierced leather and skin. The ‘target’ let out a bellow of pain and swung ferociously at waist height not realising that the stab had come from below table height. As he tried to step sideways he took the tip of Drustinas’ sword with him and thus revealed his move. Drustina simply drew back her sword quickly and stabbed viciously again. Her sword struck bone and slid sideways off the mans’ pelvis but it was still a fearful cut. He cursed again and stepped back as he realised his mistake. This caused him to back into his companion who let out a bellow of rage and struck out before checking. Immediately the pair were attacking each other and a couple of blows were struck before each realised their mistakes. To add insult to injury, Drustina, still crouching under the table, reached out and swung her sword violently left and right at ankle height. Her plan worked and she felt the satisfactory impact of razor sharp sword against foot as one of the guardsmen promptly lost his footing. He fell down and crashed against the table with a bellow of agony as he called to his companion.
“Fran! I’m on the floor beside the table. I’m hamstrung.”
Those were his last words. Drustina had carefully laid her sword beside the table leg and drawn her deadly dagger again. She reached out, found the mans’ shoulder, and delivered several deadly stabs to his chest and neck. As his struggles ceased Drustina called out again in Latin.
“Two dead Heingist. Are you okay?”
“Never better my lady, my sword found something but I’m not sure who. Are you okay Athun?”
“I haven’t struck a blow in anger yet. The king lamented.”
“Ask if the last two call for quarter,” Drustina suggested.
Heingist spoke in Danish and a nervous yes came from the darkness.
“Then throw down your swords!” The king commanded in Danish.”
There were two clatters as two swords hit the ground but Heingist was not reassured.
“Be careful,” Heingist cautioned in Latin, “I’m not sure I killed mine. He might still be armed.”
Drustina bit her lip then advised the king in Latin.
“Go and see how the others got on.”
There was a scuffing sound as the king backed out through the door on his arse before getting to his feet in the alleyway. Around two corners, he eventually found a lit candle so he returned to the guard room. It was the typical error of a novice at combat.
As he re-entered the guardroom the remaining guard lunged forward with his sword. Fortunately, Heingist was every bit as alert as Drustina and he had remained in the shadow by the wall. His sword flashed out and just parried the guards-mans’ attack but the king still received a deep wound to his shoulder. Heingists second strike was more certain and the guard collapsed like a pole-axed steer. The king cursed but neither Heingist or Drustina emerged from their shadows until they were certain all the guardsmen were unarmed. In the flickering candle-light, Drustina ordered the remaining pair.
“Step into the middle of the room, where we can see you and hold your hands above your heads.”
From her safe point under the table, Drustina was able to watch the remaining two pairs of legs step into the candle-light then she herself emerged behind them. They felt her sword touch both their necks as she warned Heingist to approach them but be careful of daggers. Heingist proved his battle-worthiness as he probed their bodies with his sword until he was satisfied it was safe to approach. Finally the trio had their gatehouse secure. It now remained to check on the others. They led the remaining two guardsmen into the daylight and only then heard the mayhem coming from the opposite gatehouse. The clash of swords combined with curses and shouts told Heingist and Drustina that things were not going as easily for the kings’ body-guards. Both Heingist and Drustina cursed. They had no rope handy to secure their prisoners so one of them would have to guard the pair while the other rendered assistance. The king was useless because of his injured shoulder so Heingist and Drustina decided for themselves. Heingist dashed towards the gatehouse before Drustina could react and she cursed furiously as Heingist disappeared into the gatehouse then she turned to the king.
“Look at that stupid bastard! You’d better fetch some rope, quickly now. I’ll guard them until you return ... quickly now, it sounds like they’re in trouble in there.”
The king lumbered off to return with his wife in tow and some rope.
“What did you bring her for?” Drustina asked as she expertly bound the prisoners.
“We might be in danger here. She would have a chance to save herself by escaping into the city if we lose the gate-house.”
“I’ve no bloody intention of losing any bloody gatehouses. There!”
She yanked hard on the knots causing the captured guardsmen to curse in pain then tied the pair back to back with the rope leading out around their necks. Drustina handed the rope end to Queen Elthorn.
#
“Just hold this end and yank hard if they try to move. It’ll throttle them and take them off-balance.”
The queen stared at the bloodstained warrior queen with wide disbelieving eyes and she hesitated to take the rope. Drustina cursed.
“For Gods’ sake woman take it. Can’t you see your husband’s in no fit state?”
Drustina’s abusive response brought the queen to her senses and she grabbed the rope firmly enough to cause one of the guards to yell.
“Oooww! Dammit bitch! That bloody hurt!”
Drustina swiped the flat of her sword across his cheek.
“Manners you bastard! Don’t you dare swear at the queen like that!”
To emphasis her words, Drustina measured her sword, flicked the razor sharp point and laid open the guardsmans’ cheek to emphasise her words.
“The next one of either of you to object will get butchered!”
The queen gasped and the king squinted disbelievingly.
‘Was there no end to this womans’ capacity for cruelty?’ he asked himself.
Drustina met the kings’ disbelieving gaze with a hard stare as she explained for the last time.
“I told you earlier Athun. It’s life or death!”
So saying she stepped away, turned and entered the gatehouse.
As the clash of swords rose to a crescendo, Queen Elthorn turned to King Athun.
“She’s a vicious woman!”
Athun turned sullenly to his queen.
“Just be glad she’s on our side. We’re by no means clear yet.”
“What hope is there for us” Queen Elthorn pressed. “There are eight jarls currently in the city along with their men at arms.”
“The woman says she has about two hundred men at arms on her ships. There’s hope for us yet. I’ve no idea how many men the jarls can muster but the faster we move, the better our chances. We must hit hard, hit fast and hit first. She at least has taught me that much.”
“Is she a witch?”
Once again the king glared sullenly at the queen he could not impregnate.
“I don’t care if she’s the devil incarnate! If she recovers our thrones then she is an angel in my book.”
“An angel of death!” The queen replied.
“So long as it’s not our deaths, I’ll take what she’s got. Damn! This shoulder hurts.”
“Well you’ll have to wait until the mess is sorted in there.”
They both turned towards the slowly reducing clash of sword play and held expectant breaths until finally a figure appeared from the doorway. The king recognised the bloodied form of his captain of the guard. Throwing care to the winds he let out a wail of despair.”
“Bjorn! Oh my love, my companion in all things. How bad are you hurt?”
“My king, my arm is slashed and my chest is pierced. I fear I’m done!” he gargled.”
The wail turned to a royal shriek that even the combatants in the gatehouse heard now that the fight had finally ended.
Drustina leaned heavily against a bloodstained doorpost as she held her injured shoulder and gasped to Heingist.
“Are you fit to move?” She asked her loyal lieutenant.
“Just my lady. Thanks for taking that blow, he’d have had me otherwise. I can walk ... just. I’ll go and find out.”
As Heingist entered the courtyard again, Drustina examined her left shoulder. There was a small gash but the pain was tremendous and she suspected her shoulder socket might be dislocated. If it was, she did not look forward to the remedy. The treatment of her knee on Bornholm was still fresh in her memory. As she sagged lower against the doorpost one of the surviving kings’ bodyguards bent beside her.
“Are you alright my lady?”
“No I’m bloody not alright! Is there a bone setter in the castle.”
“There’s one in the city.”
“Dammit we haven’t time for that. Get the rest of your buddies.”
“There’s only two of us ma-am.”
“Well fetch Heingist as well. Three of you should be able to sort me out.”
The man frowned and went into the courtyard to explain the situation.
Heingist cursed as he excused himself and returned to Drustina’s side.
“Are you sure about this?”
“No, I’m bloody not, but can you see a better remedy. Just bloody stretch it and get on with it.”
Heingist had watched the Bornholm bone-setter at work several times after she had treated Drustina's knee and he had a rough idea about re-locating a shoulder socket. He explained.
“You have to pull and twist to relocate the ball and socket.”
“Fuck me man!” Drustina cursed. “Don’t talk about it, just do it.”
With no more ceremony, Heingist instructed the two guardsmen then unexpectedly gave Drustinas’ arm a firm, steady, twisting tension. She screamed in agony but the tell-tale click told Heingist the shoulder was set. He grinned as she groaned.
“Good job it’s not your sword hand. Can you move your fingers?”
“Fuck off! You bastard. I think you enjoyed that! Go and see if the ships have arrived with the rest of the men.”
With these words, Drustina flexed her fingers successfully and grunted with pain as she watched them obey her brain then she promptly fainted.
Drustina recovers to find the Castle besieged. However King Athun has a secret known only to him about a secret passage.
The Angry Mermaid 53
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
It was night-time when Drustina came to. In the silent darkness she had no idea where she was. She couldn’t be certain if she was even in the castle; however, the bed was comfortable even if her shoulder wasn’t. Next she sat up and felt her secret parts. There was no evidence of any interference and she smiled inwardly, whoever had brought her there had respected her comatose body. Cautiously she slipped out of bed and in the pitch blackness she stubbed her toe as she groped blindly forward. She couldn’t even find her shoes. She cursed as she felt her way to a wall then finally skirted the room until she found a door. She opened it and realised why it was so dark, it was raining heavily and she could hear the rain clattering onto the stone roof tiles. Then she heard voices murmuring down the corridor but strangely there were no lights anywhere.
She cursed silently to herself and returned to her room to try and find a weapon. It would not do to appear to others disrobed as she was and unable to protect herself. She still had no idea where in the castle she was, the only certain intelligence she had was that the building was big and it had alleyways so it was most probably the castle. She groped blindly around the room for nearly five minutes before she finally located her weapons along with her clothes on a chest by the wall opposite the door. She recognised her beloved toledo sword immediately, even in the pitch dark. The handle grip was just too familar to mistake.
The eventual discovery of her weapons and the integrity of her body's secret places told her that whoever had brought her to the bed had been a friend. She dressed in the pitch dark using the same diaphanous chemise and britches then next she crept down the alleyway to locate the exact room from which the murmured voices were coming. Finally she found it and strained to identify the voices. Firstly she recognised womens’ voices then she recognised Taras’ low melodious chuckle. There was still no certainty that the situation was safe so she cautiously eased the door open, peered around the door-jamb. She concluded she hadn’t been discovered and stepped soundlessly into the room. In the flickering light of a single candle, she approached less than three yards from the table before Tara and Queen Elthorn realised she was there. They squeaked with surprise then Tara lurched gratefully towards her sibling.
“My God girl! You frightened us!”
“Why all the secrecy, the low lighting and silence?”
Elthorn answered.
“The Jarls and their men outnumber us, even with your crew on our side.”
“My men; good! They made it to the castle then.” Drustina concluded.
“Yes. It was touch and go. The jarls have the palace and the castle walls surrounded.
“How many are we?” Drustina asked, though she had a rough idea.
“Two hundred and fifteen altogether.” Elthorn replied, “your crews mainly. Eric says there are another hundred or so protecting the ships and standing off the haven.”
“Well at least our men know how to fight. Has nobody gone out to recce the land?”
“We are too few. The defences are barely sustainable anyway.”
Drustina cursed.
“I was hoping to have got amongst the Jarls before they concentrated their forces. Where are my lieutenants?”
“In the gatehouse; the gates are the weakest point but the gatehouse towers are the strongest feature.”
“I’d better go to them.”
So saying, Drustina crept along the alleyways then slipped across the small cobbled entrance threshold to meet with her lieutenants. When she ghosted into the main gatehouse Eric, Carl and Urthos gave a start at first because of her sudden and ethereal arrival. Once they realised who it was they rose silently to meet her. One candle gave feint illumination but it was enough for her loyal lieutenants to recognise her. They greeted her with silent affectionate hugs then Drustina whispered.
“Where’s King Athun?”
“He’s gone with Heingist. Apparently there’s a secret passage to a sally port close to the sea-gate but only the king knows of it. He wouldn’t show us, only Heingist. He only trusts you and Heingist.”
Drustina pulled a wry, knowing smile.
“Yes, that would figure ... his last bolt hole as it were. So what are they doing now?”
“Heingist wants to see if there’s a way out past their pickets. We persuaded the king it’s the best chance we’ve got. Surprise being the only option.
Drustina smiled to herself. ‘Carl and Eric were tried and tested lieutenants.’
“And if there is a possibility?”
“Not sure yet what we shall do yet. It’s a bit of a stale-mate. They’re not powerful enough to take the castle yet and we’re not powerful enough to take them in straight battle. We’re waiting on your recovery and Heingist’s return.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction. She was glad her lieutenants were being patient and cautious. If they could find a way to surprise the besiegers then their job might be half finished. She saw some mulled ale in a big jug so she poured herself a drink before hacking a wedge of bread off the loaf. The warm ale helped drive the night chill from her bones and she wrapped a thick bearskin around her thin chemise then settled in a niche to await Heingist’s return. Despite her sore shoulder, she fell asleep again and found herself being gently shaken by Urthos whispering in her ear.
“Heingist is back with Athun.”
Drustina dragged herself to wakefulness and Heingist appeared beside her as her lieutenants gathered close. She saw the king disappear but at that point, Drustina wasn’t too bothered. Heingist explained.
“There is a Sally-port milady. It comes out in a cellar of a large tavern but I was shocked to learn that even the Landlord didn’t know of it. The king told me. The tavern backs onto the cliff at the foot of the city wall and the front door is but a stone’s throw from the haven. The tavern is popular with sailors. The entrance to the sally port can only be opened from the inside and it opens inwards. The door is virtually invisible from the cellar. It comes out behind one of the stands for the barrels. It’s a secret only known to the king.”
“How come? Those who dug the tunnel must have known.”
“It’s not a tunnel ma-am except in two places and that’s only a few feet of soft rock. It’s an ancient. Well-kept secret and the original tunnelers have long since passed. The rest of the route is a natural fissure. It’s a bit of a squeeze but a man can scrabble through.”
“Would it enable us to evacuate the castle?”
“Yes, easily. But the king doesn’t want to surrender his seat. The castle is the centre of control.”
Drustina wagged her head in disbelief.
“The king has no control. Anybody can see that. I thought it was obvious, even to him. Where is he now?”
Carl looked behind himself and shrugged.
“He was here a few moments ago; he’s probably gone to see his queen.”
Drustina frowned but her concern was not noticed in the feeble flickering candle-light. To hatch any sort of plan she needed Athun with her now at the council. Her plan was to get the king and his queen away so that the jarls could no longer claim his authority as grounds for their legitimacy. As to reinstating the king’s rule, well ... that would follow later. The vital objective was to neutralise or, better still, destroy the usurpers.
Between them they hatched a plan then Drustina and Urthos went to see the king in the queen’s chamber. She took Urthos with her to demonstrate to Athun that she trusted all her lieutenants implicitly. They knocked softly on the queen’s chamber door and Athun whispered back.
“Identify yourself.”
Drustina spoke so he would recognise her voice.
“Drustina; I’ve brought one of my other lieutenants, Urthos.”
The bolt slid back and the door opened a bit for Athun to confirm Drustina’s words. Having recognised her he opened the door fully and they entered with swords drawn. Inside the chamber Drustina apologised to Elthorn.
“Sorry about the drawn swords, one can never be too careful. We’re getting out of here.”
“How?” Asked Elthorn.
“Tell her Athun.”
The king frowned and tried to resist the instruction.
“Why are we leaving? We’re safe here.”
Drustina shook her head and turned to the queen to explain.
“The jarls are mustering their forces. In a couple of days, they’ll be powerful enough to attack the castle. I’ve only got a few hundred men. We can’t defend the castle indefinitely. If we escape, we live to fight another day.”
“Elthorn turned to Athun.”
“If that’s true,Drustina's right. If they have to fight to take the castle they’ll kill you and probably rape me. I’m going with Drustina.”
Athun protested again.
“But darling! If we lose the castle we lose everything.”
Urthos interrupted gruffly.
“We will lose the castle. Even if we hold it by arms they can starve us out. There’s virtually no food and certainly not enough for two-hundred of our men. I can assure you king, if we stay here, we WILL lose the Castle.”
Athun became angered at Urthos’s rough, gruff manner.
“You address me as ‘Your Majesty’.”
Drustina nipped the pointless argument in the bud, time was short.
“We haven't time to argue the finer points of eticate or protocol. You’ll have to excuse my lieutenant your majesty. He tends to be a bit rough and uncultured at times, but he’s a man I’d have at my back in any battle. Now we must be getting organised. Time presses.”
“When do you intend to make this escape?” Elthorn asked.
“Now your majesty. No time like the present.”
“What! During the night.”
Drustina looked pointedly out of the window.
“It makes no difference of the time. Even at the middle hour it’s still fairly light in these latitudes. It’s only black indoors, amongst the shadows. We go in one hour. Elthorn, you’d better be dressed for a rough journey on foot.”
“What no horses.” Athun protested.
“How d’you intend to get a horse out of the castle!? D'you expect us to somehow squeeze it out through the sally-port? Besides, horse’s hooves make a hell of a clatter. We’ll be using stealth at first until we can determine the disposition of the jarl’s forces. If we are to capture horses outside then that’s a different story but at first it’s silence and stealth.”
Drustina stared hard at Elthorn who nodded reluctant acceptance. Athun was still fearful but he realised he had little choice. Urthos had left him in no doubt of the deteriorating situation. Drustina confirmed his fears with the final words.
“If we are to stand any chance of success, we must act fast and stealthily; surprise is everything. Be ready for the middle hour.”
Athun was about to protest at Drustina’s having assumed command but a baleful glance from Urthos left both king and queen in little doubt. Secretly, Elthorn was desperately glad that somebody with a bit of presence had appeared at long last to help them. That that someone was a woman served only to fascinate her. Like most princes in Europe at that time she had heard of the famous ‘Lioness of Carthage’. Now she watched, almost mesmerized as that same heroine demonstrated her leadership and kingliness where her husband had utterly failed. Before Drustina had left the room to organise her men, Elthorn was preparing for the long hard journey. Urthos was left to ensure that King Athun did nothing stupid like bolt before the plan was finalised.
As the middle hour approached, Elthorn heard the soft shuffling of leather shod feet and she realised that all Drustina’s men had shed their heavy clunking chain-mail and helmets. She felt her nerves settle a bit as she realised the strange, forceful fighting queen obviously had a clear plan and her men had done exactly as she commanded. Elthorn became even more fascinated with this enigma that was reputed to be both man and woman although to look at, she was all woman. As she joined the troops in the long corridor, she and her waiting lady were surprised to see Drustina dressed just as her men in leather jerkin and thick woollen britches. The arrangement served only to accentuate the heroine’s femininity. The jerkin did not cover her arms and the bruised shoulder served to remind Elthorn that this strange queen certainly did actually fight. The jerkin stopped at her slender feminine waist and her tight leggings only served to emphasise that femininity further. Her sword belt hung low on her curvy hips.
In a bizarre way, to Elthorn’s royal eye, Drustina looked positively provocative. Drustina however was too preoccupied with the forthcoming action to even acknowledge Elthorn and Athun when they joined the troop. Instead, Urthos and Carl were detailed to protect the royal pair. They were placed within about ten places from the rear of the line as Carl explained.
“Only one man at a time can sneak out of the exit behind the barrels. The plan is to get at least two hundred men into the cellars before we emerge into the Tavern. It will probably be fighting from then on if any of the jarls’ men are drinking in there. We have no idea how it will go so your royal personages won’t be put at risk in the first throws of fighting.”
“What happens if we’re defeated in those first minutes?” King Athun asked.
“Then we’re well fucked!”
“Please; not in front of my lady!!”
“Sorry your majesty. It’s the tension, it often gets to me. Hey-up. We’re off.”
There was no more time for conversation and they soon found themselves in the passage. There was a brief delay at the exit as men poured silently into the cellar then finally; everybody was assembled in the cellar. As the men gathered amongst the barrels, Drustina and Heingist crept up the stairs to peep through the ill-fitting door to the main passageway upstairs. At the top of the stairs on a largish landing, they peered anxiously the pair stiffened and signalled for absolute silence. Suddenly a bar-maid appeared entering the cellar and there was a brief muffled scuffle. Within seconds the maid was set down amongst the war councils and questions were being asked.
The information they received was the best possible stroke of luck they could have asked for. The jarls were using the tavern as their headquarters. And three of the eight Jarls were currently availing themselves of the fine beer and ale that the Tavern served. To the companion’s delight, the maid proved to be very anti jarl because they had already abused her and the other girls whilst also refusing to pay for their ale.
She showed Drustina the bruises on her arms and legs to confirm the violence the jarls used and she spat on the floor to indicate her anger as she continued cursing the jarls.
“They are pigs and thieves! There is no law! Who are you anyway?”
“That’s no concern of yours. Give me your clothes.” Drustina commanded.
“What are you going to do?” The girl asked fearfully.
“To you; nothing! I do not intend to rape you you silly girl. I'm a woman myself! Can you not see?"
The girl nodded as she brethed a deep sigh of relief. Drustina explained further.
"I intend to masquerade as you. I’ve got the same colour hair and in this light, I’ll be amongst them before they realise I’m an enemy. Draw me a plan of the tavern.”
The girl frowned until Elthorn appeared and she recognised the queen.
“Your majesty!”
“Do as the warrior queen asks young woman. You’ll come to no harm with me. You can wear my outer cape.”
Thus reassured, the barmaid hid behind Drustina and Elthorn as she disrobed. She gasped as she spotted Drustina’s duality and only then realised who the fighting queen was. She gasped out ‘Lioness of Carthage!’ but Drustina ignored her shocked outburst. She was too busy arranging her disguise while hiding her sword under the long skirt. The barmaid stared in shock as she pulled Elthorn’s cape around her but before she could say or do anything more, Drustina and twenty men were lining up behind the cellar door into the tavern. There was a whispered discussion which the barmaid did not understand and then the group slipped silently through the door into the dark alcove under the balustrade that encircled the tavern's main area.
Then the rest of the two hundred soldiers lined up in groups of twenty ready to burst through the door at the first sign of fighting.
On the other side of the door. Drustina had her skirt accidentally ruched up by the small barrel of ale she was carrying and the front of her thighs were exposed almost to her secret places. This naturally distracted the jarl’s views from her face for Drustina had beautiful legs.. The jarls shouted raucously for more ale and tried to grab Drustina’s private parts as she carried the barrel across the tavern. She did not respond to the first few gropes and grabs until she was in the right position by the main door to prevent any of the jarls or their men escaping. Then, as another jarl made a lewd grab, she screamed out a curse. This was the signal for the remaining nineteen men to rush out of the deep shadows by the cellar door.
Drustina’s scream distracted the jarls' men and their gazes turned towards her. For a couple of seconds and they stared stupidly at what they clearly considered to be the serving wench’s over-reaction to a bit of horseplay. To add to the confusion, Drustina dropped the barrel on one of the Jarls’ feet causing him to curse and howl. As all eyes remained focused towards the jarl and the screaming wench in anticipation of some sport or ‘fun’, nobody noticed or heard the silent threat pouring out of the shadows under the balcony by the cellar door.
With all heads turned still towards the row developing between the jarl and the serving wench, nobody noticed Drustina's troops scuttling silently into the main central drinking area. Heingist and the men were amongst them with swords drawn before they realised they were being attacked. Furthermore, another twenty were already pouring out of the door.
As the jarls realised they were being attacked, they lurched towards the Tavern’s main door only to be confronted by Drustina’s faithful Toledo blade. The jarl who had tried to scold her now let out a curse and whipped his sword out to kill the bitch that had the sheer effrontery to block his escape. In less than a second, his wrist was slashed so severly, his hand was nearly severed and spurting arterial blood splashed onto Drustina’s white blouse. His sword fell from his useless fingers and he cursed loudly. Drustina stepped back as the man recovered from his shock and measured up the distance between himself and the blasted wench with the sword. She had deliberately chosen a position with space between her and the door to allow her freedom to retreat if necessary. In a rage, the jarl lurched forward to grab the girl before she could swing again but his second lesson was his last. Drustina did not need to swing for stepping back gave her space to aim her lethal sword. As the jarl rushed her she applied the coup-de-gras and ran him straight through the heart. The jarl was dead before he hit the floor.
‘One down, twenty to go!’ Drustina told herself as she stepped forward to straddle the corpse in readiness for the next assault. It was not long coming as another giant of a man loomed in front of her brandishing a gigantic sword. Drustina retreated again then slid behind one of the balcony supports to prevent the giant swinging his sword. To an impartial observer it seemed that Drustina was in perpetual retreat but a more experienced eye would have recognised her tactic. As she retreated under the balcony and into the corner, the second jarl’s sword strokes became slower and restricted. Eventually she lured him into the corner where the balcony pillars supported the corners and the deeper diagonal struts extended half way down the pillars. The giant’s sword simply had no room to move. Drustina feinted to one side and took an extra large step that exposed her side. The jarl saw the perfect opportunity but his sword was the wrong side of the pillar. By the time he had pulled his sword back and prepared to lunge, Drustina had pierced his belly and stepped back around the pillar. The man cursed as he realised once again his sword was again on the wrong side of the pillar. Drustina was using speed and agility in the confined space to overcome the jarls power and size. Thus the jarl received two more wounds before collapsing helpless to the floor.
Drustina did not administer the death blow. She wanted information. Instead she stepped over the prostrate body and returned to block the door. It was still closed and she could not believe their luck but she sensed another soldier approaching quickly. The man was simply fleeing for his life having been disarmed and wounded. His adversary was pursuing him with full intent to kill. Instead Drustina simply thrust her sword out and the man ran himself on to it. The blade sliced into his throat and he collapsed at her feet. His pursuer turned out to be Eric who grinned and cursed.
“Dammit Dru! He was mine.”
Drustina grinned and replied.
“He’s yours. Doubt he’s got much on him. Look-out!”
Even as Eric turned, Drustina’s sword flashed out to parry a blow aimed at the back of Eric’s neck. The attacking blade landed flat against his collar and nicked his ear as he was spinning around but the main force of the blow was deflected and Eric heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thanks girl! That was bloody close!”
As he grinned he realised Drustina was not smiling. Instead she was grimacing with pain.
“What’s wrong?”
“My bloody wrist. That sword caught me at a funny angle as I reached around your neck. It twisted my sword around and bent my wrist. I think I’ve sprained or broken it.”
“Use your other hand then.”
Drustina gave him a sarcastic ‘look’ and swore.
“What d’you think I’m trying to fucking do? My shoulder’s still hurting from the gatehouse business. You’d better stay with me to protect this door. They’re outnumbered and they’ll be desperate to escape.”
Eric had already seen the situation and he positioned himself next to Drustina’s injured hand so she could fight with her free, ...but still painful ... arm. She thanked him and the two took station as they watched the mayhem unfolding in the tavern. Several attempts were made to rush the door but in the confined space, Eric and Drustina easily held off all comers. Within minutes the fight was over and Drustina’s lieutenants started counting the cost as they prepared to move out. Her men were guessing that perhaps a couple of the jarl’s men had escaped through windows or back doors to spread the alarm; nobody could be certain.
Drustina’s arm was bandaged up in a sling to rest the injured wrist then she went over to the giant jarl who was still alive. Her demand for information accompanied by a sharp prod with her sword elicited a single swear word. It was obvious he was not going to reveal any useful information so she despatched him without compunction. A single slash across the throat caused his blood to spurt but it only added to the bloodied mess that covered her shirt.
Queen Elthorn saw the execution and the flat expressionless reaction from Drustina. The girl’s grey/blue eyes were seemingly blank and without emotion as she cleaned her blade in her own shirt tails. Elthorn shuddered as she recognised the cold, expressionless face of death. She still could not decide if this warrior queen had blue or grey eyes.
‘This Lioness of Carthage was truly a force to be feared.’ She thought. ‘So what now?’ The queen wondered as her husband fussed over his favourite, the young captain of the palace guard. Elthorn studied the interplay and realised that King Athun only had eyes for his companion who had at least acquitted himself credibly, judging by the blood on his once smartly decorated uniform. She turned despondently as Drustina appeared beside her.
“Come on your majesty, we have to get to the haven and contact our ships. Make haste!”
Drustina is forced to consider alternative ways to reach a just peace in Dane-mark. Unusually, she find's herself getting entangled in politics and subterfuge. The sword is not enough.
The Angry Mermaid 54
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 54.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Outside the tavern Drustina and her lieutenants took more parley with the king and the soldiers of the palace guard as Drustina explained the plan to King Athun.
“Each of my lieutenants will take a company of fifty men to scout the town. That is three companies of men commanded by Eric, Carl and Urthos. These companies will seek to create diversions, traps, ambushes and any other trick that might serve to reduce the jarls numbers and advance our ends. My lieutenants are skilled in these guerrilla tactics and co-ordinating their activities. We have well tested communication systems because my troops are truly battle tested. Sadly I cannot join with them this time. Heingist will stay with me because my arms are too injured to fight with much effect. You and Elthorn had best stay with me and the remainder of my men and your guard. Bjorn the guard Captain can delegate which of the guard are most knowledgeable of the town and its narrow streets. Our job is to somehow contact our ships. Carl and Eric have both left me secret signals to send to their ships to confirm who we are. I intend to contact our ships and use them as bait to set a trap for the jarls.”
“You are well organised Drustina.” Elthorn observed as admiration lit her eyes.
“We have been together through many trials milady. I know my lieutenants secret signals and they know mine.”
Queen Elthorn nodded and smiled for the first time in many months. It seemed at last that requital was coming for her and her
king. A requital in the form of a ferocious warrior queen and her ruthless army. Drustina turned again to discuss the tactics with her men and apologised for not being able to accompany them. Athun was impressed that the men all silently saluted her with their swords as they arranged themselves into three well organised platoons.
The three groups slid silently away in different directions and Drustina was left alone with a small band on the quay to contact the flotilla. Heingist took a fire-brand from the fire in the tavern hearth and accompanied Drustina to the top of a building on the quay-side. There they showed the fire brand five times and waited. For a brief period nothing happened and Athun became nervous as he watched from below.
Heingist repeated the signal again and finally, after another tense wait, the return signal of four flashes appeared from a small fire brand on one of the ships. Heingist then sent six flashes and a confirmation of three flashes from the ship confirmed everything was understood. Drustina heaved a silent gasp of relief as two of the ships set sail and approached the quay. At least now they had a means of escape. A chance to escape and fight another day.
As Athun watched the ships approaching, he turned to Drustina.
“Won’t these two ships attract the jarl’s attention? They are bound to send a troop to investigate.”
“That’s what we’re hoping Athun,” Heingist replied. That’s why we divided our forces. Each of the three groups will try to get the jarls to divide their forces, then, if we can, we’ll ambush one of their smaller detachments. Carl’s group however is the smallest and quickest so he will deliberately reveal his troop to the jarl’s forces. He will be watching the Jarl’s main force and when they realise the ships are coming into harbour, Carl will expose his force then pretend to run back to the quay as though he is going to board the ships and escape. Eric and Urthos will be waiting in the side streets to lay ambush to the jarl’s men when they reach the quay.”
Athun nodded his comprehension and realised that Drustina and her men were a well organised unit. There was also the detachment of men they had left in the castle. He smiled at Elthorn as both king and queen realised that here was a genuine force to give them hope. Drustina and her small troop settled down to wait and they did not wait long. They heard a commotion approaching through the streets and then a group of men appeared from one street and rushed towards the two ships that were but a few hundred yards away from the quay.
Athun recognised Carl as his group stopped at the quayside and turned to meet their pursuers in one seemingly last act of desperate defiance. The pursuing detachment of the jarl’s men emerged roaring victoriously from the same street and hurtled pell-mell along the quay bent on massacring the impertinent invaders. Such was their certainty of victory that they failed to notice that Carl’s men had arranged themselves behind a modest stack of baled wool fleeces that served to protect them from the sudden barrage of friendly arrows that brought destruction from the other streets leading down to the quay. Eric and Urthos’s troops had fired the first salvo of their ambush and wiped out about forty of the jarls’ pursuing troop at their first salvo. They had time to fire a second salvo into the jarl’s troops before the jarls had even properly realised what was afoot. About fifteen men were struck in the second salvo as the pursuers dived for what little cover they could find on the exposed quay. Suddenly the remainder of the pursuing band realised they were trapped on the quay and pinned down from all quarters. Their only escape lay in diving into the haven and that would necessitate them shedding their armour in order to swim away.
What had started out as a pursuit to a seemingly certain victory, had in seconds, been turned to a rout as their situation deteriorated catastrophically. Within seconds the jarl’s men were being fired on from five sides; the men on the ships, Drustina’s group in the tall building, Carl’s group behind the wool bales and Eric and Urthos from the two adjoining streets. With a roar of despair they fell to arguing amongst themselves as to what to do. Already there was less than a score of them remaining and there had not yet been one incidence of hand-to-hand fighting.
Even as they struggled to regroup, the odd arrows kept whistling in and striking man as they exposed themselves. It became obvious to the commanding jarl that they were trapped and done for. Surrender was the only option.
Here though, they had misjudged the mood and implacable determination of Drustina’s limited forces. Drustina had already ordered her men to refuse to accept surrender. Every one of the pursuing troop would have to be killed. As Drustina confirmed her previous orders and intentions with a shouted command, Elthorn gasped in horror and dismay.
“Surely you do not intend to kill men who have surrendered!”
Drustina turned with a look of cruel resignation as she explained.
“We have not the wherewithal to take prisoners. Who can watch over the prisoners as we plan our next tactic. These are men at arms, killing is their business and they accept death as part of their wages. Believe me your majesty. They would do the same to us, or worse, make sport with the men’s captured bodies as they torture them to death. And as for you and me, well Elthorn; we are women ... need I say more? There is no other way!”
Elthorn swallowed distastefully as she was forced to recognise the awful necessity of Drustina’s predicament. They were still outnumbered even after enjoying two successive routs. It seemed the only thing in their favour was Drustina’s sharp mind and the excellent understanding of her battle proven lieutenants.
Eventually by means of a cruel and deadly attrition the Jarl’s men were cut down to the last five. These desperate few realised there was to be no escape and they gathered themselves for one last forlorn charge into the teeth of Drustina’s bowmen. Finally, the jarl himself, because he wore the best armour, was the last man standing. As he stood with suicidal bravery in the face of certain destruction, Drustina held her fire. The man realised he was somehow to be spared, at least for a brief while longer. Gasping with exhaustion and with blood seeping down his arm he stood defiantly awaiting his end. Drustina was forced to admire the man’s courage as he demanded to know why he was being spared.
“I will need you as a bargaining chip later,” Drustina called across the now eerily silent quay.
“Who are you Bitch? Are you some sort of sorceress?”
“I am your nemesis,” Drustina shrieked. “Put down your sword and you might be spared.”
“I’ll not surrender to that killer. He is not fit to be king!”
For a moment Drustina was non-plussed. ‘What did he mean by describing Athun as a killer?’ She wondered. She decided to present herself as the supreme authority ... which she was in terms of the military force and power. She took a gamble and replied.
“You’ll not be surrendering to King Athun. You’ll be surrendering to me, the Lioness of Carthage.”
The last words caused the jarl to widen his eyes in the faint hope of some form of survival. Drustina’s reputation went before her and it was one for courage, cunning, and above all magnamnity. Despite what he had just seen happen to his troop, he knew that to be war and in the heat of battle terrible things had to pass. The jarl set his sword point down in front of him and rested his hands on the finger guards.
“Ah, so that’s who you are. Then the rumours are true!”
Drustina confirmed it.
“I am she; do you yield?”
“Not to him. I want your word!”
“You don’t make the demands here traitor!” Athun bellowed back.
Drustina quickly nipped the dispute in the bud.
“No! I do! I’m giving him my word.”
Athun turned angrily.
“You cannot usurp my Authority. You said no prisoners.”
As he said this Athun motioned to Bjorn to draw his bow. Before the guard captain had even drawn the string, Drustina had severed it with a single slash of her Toledo blade. Her eyes flashed with incandescent rage as she quickly made it abundantly clear who was in charge.
“Do that again Athun, and I’ll run you through myself. My arm may be wounded but this Toledo steel is still certain death in my other hand. Now attend to your queen. I will interrogate this man and if he tells me the truth, I’ll spare him.”
Athun glared at the Lioness and stalked off angrily to join Elthorn. His queen frowned at him as she watched the Lioness step out to parley with the lonely jarl. Elthorn was impressed that the lioness felt safe enough to step right up within sword reach of the desperate jarl’s massive blade. But Drustina had her back to Athun and Elthorn. Only the jarl saw the steely strength in Drustina’s menacing glare that caused him to conclude
Here was one angry bitch not to be messed with!
Drustina whispered her invitation.
“Right butcher! An explanation please. What makes your king a killer?”
The jarl pulled a long face before finally revealing the story.
Apparently nearly a decade earlier, the king had a younger brother. When everybody had realised that Athun was not as other boys in as much as he favoured other boys to girls the jarls had realised that there was a strong possibility Athun’s father, the old king, might favour Athun’s younger brother. Oswald was a fine boy and very popular with the jarls and the men at arms. Athun was jealous and afraid he would lose his inheritance. The jarls believed he had left his younger brother to drown while he saved his younger sister. Drustina frowned.
“But if Athun could only save one sibling then why condemn him?” Drustina asked.
The jarl sneered and replied.
“Athun had three other younger sisters and an older one but he only had one brother. What better way to assure your inheritance than to let your brother die whilst making a show of saving the girl. He should have saved the boy, he’s more important; that would have ensured the royal line with a backup male heir.”
Drustina felt angered by the jarl’s evaluation of life;
‘Why should a boy child be deemed more valuable than a girl?’ She asked herself.
She struggled to contain her private anger as she pursued her line of questions. The first thing she had to do was to try and determine some facts, firstly by determining as much as she could about the circumstances.
“Did he have a chance to rescue his brother?”
The jarl spat contemptuously.
“Nobody knows. The only person competent to say cannot be certain. Athun’s older sister was playing on the beach with the youngest girls. Athun, Oswald and the second sister were amongst the rocks were the waves were biggest. By the time the oldest sister heard Athun’s shouts Oswald was drowned.”
“So there’s no hard evidence either way.” Drustina frowned.
“Yes. Isn’t that convenient?” The jarl smirked. “Handy that isn’t it?”
“What is convenient?”
“Oh come on!” The jarl sneered. “Everybody agrees he should have saved his brother. There were plenty of girls left to be married off. Oswald was the only other prince; he should have saved his brother.”
The jarl’s reinforcement of his belief in the worthlessness of girls stoked the flames of Drustina’s anger. She well knew the views of men and they often angered her. It had taken some hard battles and perilous dangers before her own lieutenants had come to completely trust her, support her, fight alongside her and above all, value her worth equal to a man. She wondered if she would have to once more teach these usurpers the old, old lesson that she had repeated often. Women were as valuable as men!
After getting as much information from the jarl as she could whilst still wrestling with the stress of immediate battle, Drustina handed the disarmed man to Heingist. She knew Heingist wanted a legal solution to the theft of his family lands and imprisoning a second jarl in addition to the thug who they still had captive on the ships would go some way to achieving that. Trying the jarls with Drustina’s strange methods of inquisition and close study of facts were a new and novel process to Heingist. Most of his life Heingist had watched disputes being settled by conquest, Drustina’s way although seemingly effete and complicated at least produced satisfaction. Heingist was beginning to hope that he would one day have his day before a fair and legal thing. The jarl was secured and despatched to the waiting ships whilst the companions reconvened for the next tactical plan.
They all knew that at some stage they would have to face the jarls in open hand-to-hand combat and it was something few wanted. Now, after two substantial attritions of the jarls and their forces, the odds were about even or even slightly in Drustina’s favour; but not for long. Every day the jarls were accruing more troops from their outlying estates. This could make the forthcoming battle even more ferocious and bitter as each side realised there was a real chance of victory for either side. At present the forces were pretty even.
Most of Drustina’s band of brothers simply wanted to reach their homes in Gaul and Saxony and Friesland and settle down to a peaceful life again. They had experienced enough of adventure and battle.
The more they discussed the options, the more Drustina realised it would be better if she could make parley with the jarls. She called each of her lieutenants then all the men and asked them all to vote on discussing terms under a flag of truce. Their vote was unanimous, talk!
Unfortunately King Athun proved to be less amenable and his objections had some justification. The jarls had usurped his authority once, there was no guarantee they might not do it again.
Drustina sagged with the burden of politics and entreatments. The effort was wearing her down, she only wanted to return to the clean open spaces of the sea she so loved. Finally, as King Athun squabbled with his wife Elthorn and Drustina’s lieutenants who each in turn tried to persuade Athun to settle for terms, Drustina lost her temper and slammed her sword on the barrels that had served as a round parley table.
“Dammit Athun! I don’t know how or why your brother died! The only solution as I see it is to convince the jarls that it was an accident otherwise there will never be any peace or trust! Where is your oldest sister now?”
“She is married to the king of Svenland.”
“Damn! What of the second sister, the one Athun rescued.”
“Iselda? She married a Frankish prince and lives some one month’s journey away.”
“Dammit! I can’t wait that long, I want to be in my homeland before the fall. We’d best speak to the oldest sister in Svenland so how bloody far is that?”
“About four days by ship if there is a good crew of rowers.”
Drustina did some quick calculations and guesstimated that would be about two and a half days in the Angry Mermaid. Perhaps if she could persuade the jarls to appoint one of their number to accompany her, back to Svenland in ‘Angry Mermaid’, she could get a firsthand account from Queen Brendigan the king’s oldest sister. Then she might be able to nail the issue even if she had to employ some subterfuge. With her nerves jangling from stress, she and Heingist set out to meet the jarls under a white flag of truce. After some hours of argument and negotiation she finally persuaded the remaining jarls to meet with King Athun, his queen Elthorn, her lieutenants Carl, Eric, Urthos and now Heingist to discuss her attempt at reconciliation.
Eventually, consensus was reached. Drustina, Heingist and two jarls; one of whom was the one who been spared on the quayside, were to visit queen Brendigan in Svenland. That same afternoon, The Angry mermaid was speeding east again. Drustina was secretly wondering if she would ever see her beloved Cymru again.
Another chapter as Drustina starts to get involved in politics. She doesn't like what she finds but necessity is the mother of invention.
The Angry Mermaid 55.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 55.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
The Angry Mermaid 55.
With a truce arranged, The Angry Mermaid was readied that same night and the jarls were surprised to learn that Drustina intended setting sail that same evening.
“But it is dark!”
“There’s enough light,” Drustina challenged them, “my navigator knows all these waters well and the northern summer nights are but a deep twilight. Come now we go inside the hour.”
“But we are not prepared!” The jarls protested. “We must take gifts to visit the king of Svenland.”
“Do you see me bearing gifts? No, I bring only my name and reputation. Besides, my ship is too small to carry more than twenty men in comfort. It can only carry about forty when squeezed tight as fish in the barrel. We go when the sun is at its nadir in the northern sky.”
There were a few grumbles but Drustina knew they were pushed for time. The longer they took; the more likelihood of the truce breaking. The Angry Mermaid sailed at midnight. Drustina was nothing if not forceful.
By day break the Mermaid was slamming close-hauled into a stiff North Easterly breeze and the jarls could only wonder at the speed and discomfort of the strange craft, for they knew little of sailing. As jarls they specialised in land warfare and left the Viking raids to their more northern and western brothers. All day the jarls sat sheltered in the bow cuddy grumbling about the constant slamming that only added to their general discomfort. From the shelter of the bow, they watched fascinated as Heingist and Drustina shared watches and occasionally took the helm. During their off-watch periods, the jarls chatted to Heingist or Drustina who never seemed to sleep. Drustina reluctantly spoke of some of her many adventures but most of all the jarls wanted to hear of how she, as a young girl, had managed to slay the infamous and dreaded ‘Blueface’ Drustina did not enlighten them of her bi-genderism by correcting them and telling them at that time she was for all practical purposes a boy, for the act of killing the giant pirate would have been remarkable for any child, girl, boy or whatever.
When Heingist retired to grab some sleep the jarls briefly badgered him about the notorious lioness by mostly asking about her sex and sexuality.
“Do any of the men have their way with her?” They asked lasciviously.
Heingist snorted derisively.
“Huh! They’d be bloody fools to try. She decides who gets her favours; her and no-one else. She’s as handy with a dagger as that sword of hers and she’s a dead shot with a bow. See that longbow in the water-proof leather bag tied to the mast; that’s hers. She isn’t called a lioness for nothing. Now gentlemen, I wish to sleep. I’m up at daybreak for my next shift.”
Heingist turned over and promptly fell asleep, leaving the jarls to entertain themselves. Eventually, they fell asleep as well.
All the following day the wind drummed monotonously into the sails and so on into the following night until the dawn when Drustina called Heingist to identify a headland.
“Yes my-lady, it’s all northing from here about four hour’s passage.”
Heingists navigation proved as accurate as always and the Mermaid finally turned to make westing into The Holm. With the wind now on the starboard quarter, the Mermaid was able to show her paces as she slipped into the shelter of the sound. It was noon and many heads turned to watch in curious amazement as the strange craft swept at speed towards the castle haven.
As the Mermaid ‘swooshed’ into the dock her sudden and unexpected arrival caused consternation in the town and Drustina turned to the jarls with a smile as a horse and rider were seen galloping into the castle.
“Gone to warn the king I expect.” Drustina observed.
The jarls frowned.
“He may not be too pleased to have you arrive unannounced and sow alarm around the city.”
“We’re only one ship for God’s sake.” Heingist added scornfully. “We’re no bigger than most of these trading ships!”
“No, but you’re a damned sight faster. Look, you even caught the picket boat napping.”
The Mermaid’s crew were already alongside and they watched a warship rowing furiously across the haven to escort them into the dock. As they entered, Drustina and Heingist grinned at the embarrassment writ large upon their sweating faces.
“They should get up early then, flipping bed-bound snails!” Drustina grinned.
As they tied up to a space on the quay below the castle steps, a steward appeared from the castle gates. Drustina and the jarls stepped ashore and the steward called them forward.
“Who are you, and what of that ship?”
“I am Drustina, Lioness of Carthage and this is my ship, ‘The Angry Mermaid.’”
The steward’s expression immediately changed as he recognised the title while the jarls noted the distinct murmur of interest amongst the crowd gathering on the quay, it was obvious that Drustina’s fame had spread even this far. It was then the jarls realised one of the consequences of their coup. Messenger ships from other kingdoms had dried up as uncertainty about Dane-mark spread abroad.
The steward’s next words were addressed to Drustina.
“Ah! The Lioness of Carthage you say. Then that saves me from the next duty your majesty. I was about to order you to remove your ship from the berth belonging to the king’s ship. But if you are the lioness then I must conclude that this strange vessel is your famous warship.”
Drustina nodded acknowledgement as the steward continued.
“Then that automatically makes you a diplomatic visitor and your ship keeps its position on the royal berth, at least until the king returns.”
“Ah! The king is absent then, you say.”
“Yes, he is up north convening the annual council of the northern chieftains and jarls. He should be back in a week.”
Drustina was disappointed at this news. Time was pressing. She only wanted to speak to Queen Brendigan about the matter of her brother’s death. She asked anxiously.
“Is the queen, Queen Brendigan at home?”
“The steward’s eyes widened with uncertainty.”
“The queen; why yes milady, but why would you wish to meet her majesty. I am aware you are a queen in your own right, surely you would seek the king.”
“I come upon a delicate, personal matter. It is really Queen Brendigan I wish to see, though if protocol dictates, I will await his majesty’s return.”
“It would seem the correct thing to do but if the matter is strictly personal then I see little cause not to see the queen. As two ladies then no protocols or courtesies will be broken if you meet. I will advise her of your arrival.”
The steward hurried off into the castle and appeared an hour later.
]
“Her majesty says if it concerns her brother, she will speak with you shortly. If she has time, she might meet you in her chambers. She is busy right now. Then, if necessary, she will meet with you and your companions in the great hall. She cannot see your companions privately in her chambers you understand, probity and modesty prevent ... they are men.”
Drustina smiled to herself as she reflected, ‘if this steward only knew.’
She agreed to the arrangements and followed the steward into the castle while the jarls helped secure ‘The Mermaid’ before being led to attend in the great hall. Drustina was separated from the jarls because of her rank then, once out of sight, she was led without ceremony into the queen’s most private chambers. There she surrendered her sword to the captain of the queen’s personal body-guard. Queen Brendigan was waiting for her with avid interest for they all knew of the coup in Danmark. After the briefest exchanges of titles and courtesies, Brendigan came immediately to the point.
“What news of my brother Athun? Does he live?”
Drustina answered matter-of-factly; as queen to queen.
“Yes he does Brendigan; and it is of your brother I need to speak.”
Brendigan’s eyes narrowed uncertainly.
“So what other news?” Brendigan persisted.
“Not much. Your brother is free again from the jarl’s detention but what I have to ask of you affects that detention.”
“Tell us more then please!”
Drustina related the ‘bare bones’ of the situation regarding the coup and King Athun’s safety. Finally she came to the question of Oswald’s accidental death.
“And that Brendigan is basically why I’m here. It’s too far to go to ask your younger sister, that would take months and I don’t have months to play with. I wish to be on my way; homeward bound to my beloved Lleyn.”
Brendigan nodded thoughtfully.
“So you want me to confirm events to the jarls?”
Drustina nodded.
“One way or the other, yes. It’s immaterial to me but the kingdom of Danmark needs a lawful peace. The people are tired of the turmoil and oppression.”
Queen Brendigan’s expression darkened as she explained.
“It is as the jarls have said; I did not witness the actual incident. I was attending to our youngest sisters on the beach the other side of the rocks. I could not see the rocks or the waves where the others were playing. I cannot add much to that which I told our father. I think the death of Oswald hastened his death, he was very fond of his younger son.”
“Would that be because Athun was of the other ... how do you Danes put it?”
“Deviant. Yes, I think it was, partly, but Athun was not much of a warrior either. He avoided conflict and loathed the combat games.”
“Well, he fought well enough when he had to; when we brought the jarls to the negotiating table.”
Queen Brendigan looked slightly surprised.
“Oh! Really? You surprise me, he loathed violence; he claimed it achieved little.”
Drustina sighed as she thought about the many conflicts she had endured.
“Well to tell the truth fighting doesn’t usually achieve much; and I speak as one who has fought much. In the end, even after an all out victory one has to talk with one’s enemy if a lasting, fair peace is to endure.”
Brendigan studied Drustina’s countenance. ‘It was a face that seemed aged much beyond the few years that Drustina was reputed to have. The telltale lines were there to be seen if an observer looked closely enough’.
“You speak from experience Lioness.”
“Some,” Drustina replied monosyllabicaly. Brendigan immediately sensed the irony ringing through that single word.
Brendigan garnered a lot from Drustina’s taciturnity. It seemed the girl who sat before her was a woman aged beyond her tender years.
“How old are you Drustina?”
“Four and twenty years.”
“And you have squeezed so much into your short life.”
“Uuuhm, not really, It was squeezed into my life by others, by necessity, by circumstance. I’ve only ever wanted one thing.”
“Which is?”
“It’s no secret, my family's lands returned to me, just as my navigator Heingist wants his.”
“And if this issue with my brother’s detention is resolved, what of your plans?”
“To go home and fight the thieves who killed my family. To destroy the pirates who murdered my beloved grandfather and grandmother. That’s my fight, the only fight I have ever wanted. All other wars were for others; my sword was little more than a weapon for hire.”
“So where is this place called Lleyn?”
“On the island called Britannia. On the west side, on the shores of the sea of Erin.”
“That’s a long journey. How many of your companions are prepared to accompany you?”
“I don’t know. My sister Tara for one, my children. A Celt called Torvel might rejoin me. I can make no plans until I return and assess the situation.”
“So you must somehow gather an army about you.”
“There are plenty of disenfranchised Celts and Saxons who have a score to settle with the Viking pirates. I’m sure if I can gather enough to my banner, I can make something of my claim. Now please, what of this business with your brother King Athun? Is there nothing more you can say? Surely you want to see your brother safe. I don’t believe he’s a bad man.”
Brendigan shrugged then replied thoughtfully.
“He’s weak and vain.”
“But not evil, not so evil as to deliberately let his younger brother die.” Drustina pressed.
“Will he ever be able to get his queen with child I wonder?” Brendigan asked.
Drustina fell silent. Her experiences of kings who could not fulfil their kingly duties in the bedroom had taught her there were always ways around this impasse. She shrugged with seeming disinterest and wagged her head as though such affairs were beyond her remit. She answered neutrally to disguise her thoughts.
“I don’t know what he can do. If he can’t beget a child by Elthorn does not your child become the next king?”
“If the jarls obey the Norse laws, yes he would; but it’s more likely to plunge Dane-mark into chaos and this whole region into war. I wouldn’t want my child to get dragged into a war of succession.”
Drustina pondered the next move for she wanted Heingist to win justice for his family and his land. That could not happen if chaos and war prevailed. The jarl’s might would succeed. After thoughtfully sipping her warm wine she took a risk.
“Brendigan, can I be candid?”
Brendigan frowned. She was astute enough to recognise a subterfuge but if the ‘Lioness’ could find some route to peace in Brendigan’s old homeland then it might be worth sounding the warrior queen out.
“What are you plotting?”
Drustina stared at the fire as she gathered her thoughts. Finally she found the words.
“If I can guarantee that Elthorn will be put with child, can you see your way to making your original statement about Oswald’s death a little bit more definite ... you know add an element of greater certainty.”
“You mean lie ...”
“Frankly, yes.”
“So how will you guarantee Elthorn’s being put with child? How will you get another man past Elthorn’s ladies in waiting and the jarl’s guards? She’s chaperoned everywhere. Only Athun gets free access and that’s like letting a eunuch free in the seraglio.”
“Is he impotent?” Drustina asked, slightly alarmed at Brendigan’s revelation.
“No, he’s as randy as a ferret ... with the boys. It’s with girls he can’t deliver, you know, function.”
Drustina nodded slowly. She had suspected as much but she had kept her counsel. The less people who knew her idea, the safer it was for everybody. Drustina had realised that amongst the macho jarls, her feminine appearance had blinded them to the fact that not only was she dualled but that she still functioned both ways. Drustina was slightly disgusted with herself as she considered her subterfuge. If Athun could not get his queen pregnant then Drustina sure as hell could! She broached the next step of her idea carefully.
“I think I know of a way to get Elthorn with child.”
“Indeed! And dare I ask how. I know of the conditions surrounding Athun’s detention. The jarls want to see Athun deposed.”
“Do you?” Drustina asked Brendigan bluntly.
Brendigan frowned thoughtfully before replying.
“I’m a queen Drustina; just like you. Kings and their consorts are loath to see their fellow kings deposed or disposed of. In times like that, our crowns sit uncomfortably on our heads”
“Then help me save him; help me tighten his grip on his throne. Give me a statement that I can take back to the Danes; your Danes, your people.”
“Can you do that? Can you stabilise the situation?”
“I can only try.”
“But what about getting Elthorn with child?”
Drustina simply smiled enigmatically. It shouted volumes about the Scandinavian culture that the fact of Drustina’s duality had been lost amongst the myths and sagas about her gladiatorial prowess. Now in the Scandinavian seas, ‘The Lioness’ was known only for her fighting ability and little heed was paid to her diplomatic skills or the other aspects of her fame. She stood to suggest that for now her interview with Queen Brendigan was over and she finished with some sagacious wisdom.
“If and when Elthorn is put with child, I will explain all but not until. Trust me and for now, when we meet the jarls, just give me something stronger to take back as an argument.”
Brendigan smiled enigmatically.
“I didn’t realise you were such a Machiavellian lady dear sister”
Drustina nodded sagely.
“It’s the name of the game dear sister. I’m only asking for a small lie. Shall we break bread with the jarls and my lieutenant?”
Brendigan nodded with a satisfied smile and rang the bell for the steward.
“Tell the jarls, I will be seeing them at the sixteenth hour.”
The Angry Mermaid 56
I would first suggest that any readers read back to Chapter 55 just to pick up any loose threads and recollect the gist of this saga. basically, for any newcomers, The Angry mermaid is a story that describe's Drustina's many adventures as she tries to make her way home and recover her homelands from the Viking Pirates who stole it from her when she was only fourteen and lucky to escape with her/his life.
We pick up the story where Drustina has visited Brendigan to use her testimony to ensure the succession to the throne of Dame-mark and thus ensure a lawful peace amongst the Baltic and Scandinavian countries.
The Angry Mermaid 56
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 56.
Character list.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Iselda... Brendigan’s and Athun’s younger sister.
The Angry Mermaid 56.
As Drustina and Queen Brendigan finished their food, Drustina asked if she could take a bath.
“Why of course Lioness. It was remiss of me not to offer you my full hospitality. May we continue talking whilst you wash?”
“Well I would prefer to be covered in my most intimate modesty but, yes, we can talk.”
As Brendigan’s maids completed preparing the bath, they were despatched before Drustina turned modestly away from Brendigan and slipped into the bath whilst hiding her duality. The less others knew of it, the better. Once the water covered all of her below the waist Drustina felt free to talk face to face. It took several seconds for Brendigan to recover from the sight of Drustina’s upper body scars and she was too shocked to even countenance what other disfigurements lay beneath the water.
“By the Gods! Is your whole body naught but scars Lioness?”
“I have more than a few, it’s hard to fight in battle and not be struck.”
“But even your breast! That cut ... can you still feed a child, your nipple; does it still have sensation?”
Drustina swayed her head philosophically.
“Yes; just!”
“And that cruel bruise to your shoulder, was that when your freed my brother?”
“Fraid so, though it’s easing now.”
Brendigan shook her head in disbelief and a tear escaped as she turned her head to hide her distress.
'What horrors had this ‘Lioness’ endured in earning her ferocious reputation. Truly this girl had been forged in the crucible of war!'
Brendigan realised that Drustina, a mere twenty four years could prove to be a powerful ally but she would have to meet her requests before the girl might reciprocate her favours.
For the moment, she put these thoughts aside before recovering her composure and turning to the matters in hand. As Drustina lay savouring the hot water soaking into her bones, they discussed the nature of the lie that Brendigan would put abroad.
“Perhaps if you could make some pretence of your younger sister’s reactions to being saved by Athun.”
“I could not tell an outright lie, the jarls might see fit to send an emissary to Iselda in the Frankish lands and ask her.”
Drustina considered the situation and asked Brendigan.
“Was your second sister Iselda distressed after she was rescued?”
“Why yes; very. She was crying and cursing and whimpering all at the same time. She’d had a nasty shock.”
“And of course, she’d just lost her favourite brother.”
“Of course, she was distraught!”
“D’you think she would have remembered everything she said. Could she gainsay anything you might declare her to have said ... in the terror of the moment.”
Brendigan wagged her head thoughtfully as she began to follow Drustina’s line of reasoning.
“Well no, not really. She was cold and shocked and in despair that Oswald was missing. She wanted to follow Athun back to the rocks to look for Oswald but I destrained her and comforted her.”
“So it’s possible she would not remember exactly what she said, in those brief minutes before she recovered her composure.”
“Well ... no; not really I suppose. To be honest, I can’t remember all that was said. It was a traumatic business and a long time ago. I was twenty one and Athun was just eighteen. Oswald was sixteen and Iselda was but fourteen.”
“Then perhaps, if we go through it in front of the jarls, with me asking the questions as an impartial investigator; you might just remember ... just mind you, some tiny item; some small thing that you think Iselda said when she lay trembling in your arms.”
“But if I lied and the jarls learned that I had lied then that could make it worse for Athun.”
“You don’t have to lie my lady. You only have to think you remembered something. Some small thing that Iselda possibly squealed in those desperate moments of relief before she came fully to her senses and became calm again. Iselda will be hard put to deny you because you could always say, quite truthfully that she was distraught and not fully in control after the terror of the waves amongst the rocks.”
Brendigan sucked her lip.
“I suppose it could work. How would we put it?”
“I ask you, about the incident in front of the jarls but let them do most of the asking thereafter. Then you just say something like Iselda was shivering in my arms and mumbling something like ...”
‘He couldn’t reach him. The waves were too big!’ “Something to that effect. Nothing definite, nothing that can be denied outright. Just enough to foment doubt; but doubt in Athun’s favour. That’s all I’ll need to conclude that Oswald’s death was probably an accident.”
“So you’ll be presiding over any inquiry back in my brother’s kingdom.”
Drustina gave Brendigan an ‘old fashioned look’
“There’s nobody else with enough authority to hold the ring ... at least, not as a neutral, impartial judge.”
Brendigan stared hard at Drustina before saying.
“You’ve got an old head on those young pretty shoulders.”
“I’d say a cynical head.” Drustina countered. “I’ve seen enough of men to know their weaknesses.”
“Which are?”
“Greed, lust, conceit; to name but three.”
“Oh yes; you are a cynic my dear. But then ... I suppose ... well, you’ve seen enough.”
Drustina nodded significantly before entreating Brendigan to accede to her ambitions.
“So, will you say what I asked? All I want is to get that kingdom on some sort of even keel and see Heingist’s lands restored to his family.”
“Is that really all you want?”
“Isn’t that what you want? Or do you want an unstable tyranny camped right next door to you.? If these jarls are greedy for power then they’ll be greedy for everything else ... and that will include land. Svenland would be their first target of choice.”
“They’d be hard put to defeat our army,” Brendigan declared proudly.
“Perhaps they would, but blood would have to flow to ascertain that. Unnecessary blood. I would prefer to see the rule of law prevail. I’ve already tasted the jarl’s lawlessness.”
“Oh! Do tell.” Brendigan became intrigued.
Drustina gave a knowing shrug.
“Well, the tolls to pass the Stoerbealt and Kattegat for a start. The jarl who was responsible for collecting the tolls tried to bleed my flotilla white.”
Brendigan nodded and smiled before asking.
“And did he?”
“No! I said TRIED to bleed us white; he got short thrift!”
Brendigan smiled.
“Yes, I thought he would have.”
“That’s beside the point Brendigan. Other, more peaceful traders would not be able to resist their demands. Your own ships trade to Saxony and Friesland do they not? They have to pass the Stoerbaelt.”
“Our ships trade as far as Britannia.”
“And have any captains reported back about extortion?”
“Well ... there have been rumblings,” Brendigan conceded.
“Go on.” Drustina pressed.
Brendigan was a little hesitant to discuss an issue that had only recently come to her husband’s attention as the first traders of the year had returned some months earlier with low-value cargoes of grain and wool. The newly and illegally enforced tolls had been pressed on the ships and none of the traders on the Stack-Holm were happy. Indeed they had only a week before Drustina’s arrival, been clamouring to their king demanding justice. The Dane-mark jarls had overstepped the internationally agreed tariffs. It was an also issue already bubbling amongst the other Baltic kingdoms. Brendigan was secretly pleased that Drustina’s flotilla had already brought a sharp halt to the overcharging.
While Drustina had been tackling the usurper jarls in Dane-mark, Brendigan’s most recent returning captains had returned just a couple of days earlier to speak of some new unknown force in Dane-mar that had reinforced the legal tariffs and resumed mutually agreed international arrangements. Now that ‘unknown power’ had been identified as Drustina’s flotilla, it was further evidence that Drustina, for all her apparent youth and femininity, was truly a force to be reckoned with and a genuinely empowered authority. Brendigan could see clear benefits to Drustina’s declared ambition; namely the return of law and order to Dane-mark. It also perfectly morticed into the tenon of her own wishes to see her brother Athun safe on Dane-mark’s throne.
After finishing their warmed wine Brendigan invited Drustina to join her with the visiting jarls. Brendigan emerged alone from her royal chambers to belatedly welcome the jarls while Drustina entered slightly later from a different door. This was ploy to suggest that Drustina and Brendigan had not been together prior to the meeting with the jarls. To reinforce this appearance Brendigan had entered alone to inform the jarls that Drustina was bathing.
“You will understand my lords, she is a woman and feels the need to bath after such a voyage as you have just completed. These things are important to her.”
They exchanged ‘pleasantries’ briefly until Drustina emerged towelling her hair as though to reinforce the image that she had been bathing. Her act also served to demonstrate who had the highest rank at the meeting. Drustina was a queen in her own right and a warrior queen to boot. Brendigan was purely a consort queen and therefore of lower rank. Only Drustina could adopt such a casual and dishevelled air in such august company. The jarls were seemingly offended at first until they realised that despite being alone, Drustina still held her rank and few were prepared to dispute it. The jarls had already learned of her fearsome reputation, not to mention her martial prowess.
Having established the status quo, Drustina invited the jarls to ask Brendigan for further details of Oswald’s death on the beach.
Whilst the jarls plodded over old ground about the events of that day, Drustina simply continued towelling her hair whilst appearing to listen intently.
Eventually, as the jarl’s questions dried up, Drustina touched upon aspects of Brendigan’s memories.
“Tell me sister, can you remember everything that Iselda said when she was safe with you again? Did she say anything as Athun returned to try and rescue his brother?”
“She was very distressed and wailing with despair.”
“Well yes, I’m sure she was and the jarls here would agree with me, she would certainly have been hysterical with grief. Is there anything you can remember?”
“Not a lot, Iselda was going on and on about how stupid they were to have been playing so close to the rocks. How Athun couldn’t get hold of Oswald’s hand without letting go of hers.”
“What! You mean he was stretching out?”
“I think so. She said something about slipping again and Athun had to push her back onto the rock.”
“Can you remember exactly what she said?”
“No. It was so long ago and Iselda was very distressed. She was crying and whimpering a lot. She said something like ‘He couldn’t reach him as well.’ It may well have referred to Oswald drifting out of reach. The waves were very violent and rough.”
“Are you certain of this?”
As she asked this question, Drustina glanced at the jarls. It was obvious that Brendigan’s uncertainty was causing them to have doubts. Drustina said no more; she simply waited silently for Brendigan to elaborate whilst letting the doubts gain weight in the jarl’s minds. The whole fabrication had to rely upon uncertainty and doubt. This would later avoid any accusations of lying. Brendigan finally answered.
“Well the waves were rough. I could hear them crashing and booming even from my side of the headland. I wondered what Athun was shouting about until he appeared with Iselda in his arms. The waves drowned out most of his cries.”
Drustina nodded sagaciously as she secretly wondered if enough doubt had been sown in the jarl’s minds and if those doubts would find root in the minds of the other jarls back in Dane-mark. It remained to somehow give Brendigan’s doubts extra credence and that way lay best through the written word. Drustina turned concernedly to the jarls as she hazarded a suggestion.
“Whilst I go and oil my hair would you jarls like to agree a written statement with her majesty?”
The jarls exchanged looks and turned expectantly to Brendigan as one asked reverentially.
“Would your majesty be agreeable to that?”
“Well, I can write little more than I have told you. My sister was very distressed at the time.”
Drustina felt a flutter of satisfaction. The very fact that the jarls were asking for more evidence seemed to indicate that their own doubts were taking root. All in all, Drustina considered it had been a good day for her burgeoning but rudimentary diplomacy.
She slipped away to finish attending to her hair. It had been the first decent wash since Bornholm.
Later that evening she read the letter that Brendigan had prepared for the jarls to take back to their colleagues in Cub-havn. It made her smile with its disingenuous observations that gave only cause for doubt and uncertainty. Brendigan had not lied but her recollections left every aspect of the saga with room for debate and conjecture. Drustina smiled with satisfaction as she held the piece of parchment.
‘If this was diplomacy and politics,’ she reflected, ‘then let’s have more. I can do wonders with this letter if I am perforce to arbitrate twixt the jarls and the king.’
That night as she lay between crisp linen sheets, she reflected on what it was to enjoy a truly royal lifestyle. She also slept properly for a full night for the first time since leaving Bornholm. Unusually, she slept late, a sign that she must have been exhausted. Eventually, she was dragged from her slumber as a commotion woke her mid-morning. She stirred to find the castle all awake and busy. As she emerged from her chamber she stopped a maid who was hurrying by.
“What’s the commotion?” She asked the maid.
“Oh! My lady. The King has returned early, I know not why but his ship is entering the sound even as we speak.”
Drustina returned to her chamber and opened the shutters to survey the sound. A long, narrow, powerful looking warship was rowing majestically towards the castle steps with two more longships for company. They made a fine sight as the picket boat slid alongside them and offered a welcoming hail. Drustina watched briefly then remembered that her ship was occupying the King’s berth. She cursed as she realised there was no time to move ‘The Angry Mermaid’ then she sighed with relief as a familiar mast and stem-post emerged from under the castle walls. Heingist had moved the Mermaid and saved Drustina from any embarrassment. Thus relieved, she dressed and met Brendigan in the receiving rooms.
“Is there something wrong? The maid told me your husband has returned early.”
Brendigan smiled easily.
“I don’t know of any problems, the council must have ended early. That’s usually a good sign; it means there were fewer problems to discuss.”
Drustina relaxed; perhaps her stay would be free of any further intrigue. She settled in a chair as she picked up Brendigan’s mood of happy anticipation. By contrast the servants were in a state of agitation as preparations were made to receive their king. As the servants scuttled about, Drustina noticed Queen Brendigan seemed little concerned. She asked her.
“Are you not going down to meet your husband at the quay my lady?”
“What for? I’ll only have to return here. There’ll be enough flunkies and the Lord Chamberlin dancing around in attendance.
He’ll probably come straight here anyway. I’ve got hot wine and beer ready and he’ll be grateful for one or the other.”
Drustina nodded knowingly. It was always difficult to organise hot drinks whilst sailing. Fire was a dangerous thing to keep alight aboard a ship that bounced and lurched over every wave. ‘
The Angry mermaid’ was particularly at risk for her speed made her something of a wild, tempestuous creature when running in all but the slightest seaway. Drustina settled back into an easy chair next to the thrones in the great hall where Brendigan prepared to meet her returning husband. The visiting jarls who had accompanied her also joined them but Brendigan made sure they occupied lowed status seats. Drustina was, after all, a queen in her own right,
Eventually the hubbub accompanying the king’s return arrived at the great hall. Brendigan stood to receive her husband while Drustina stood respectfully and the jarls went down on bended knee. After passionately attending to his reunification with Brendigan, the king turned curiously to Drustina.
“Am I to presume you are the Lioness of Carthage?”
“I am sire.”
The king nodded and studied the woman before him. She wore tight britches that served to amplify her femininity and a green jerkin that left her arms bare. Where it not for the notable blade at her waist and the ripe curves, the woman could have been any one of his own warriors. His keen eyes noticed the well worn scabbard and recognised the splendid Toledo sword for being a true weapon, not some symbolic badge of office. Having recognised the quality of the sword his eyes then swept up and down the seductive curves. There was no doubt that this was a woman and an attractive one but his appreciative gaze finally met the level, unflinching stare of a woman obviously used to such appraisals and seemingly self confident enough to scorn them. This woman, this lioness, did not lower her eyes or turn to try and modestly cover her attractions.
She met the king’s stare with a confident extension of her hand as she offered to shake his hand as an equal. Slightly unbalanced by the woman’s sheer confidence, the king found himself doing exactly that ... shaking the lionesses’ hand. As this gesture brought them together, the king realised she was slightly taller than an average woman and only a couple of inches shorter than himself.
It was Brendigan’s diplomatic cough that finally brought her husband back to earth and he realised he had not said any more for nearly half a minute. He quickly recovered his regal composure and cleared his throat apologetically.
“Ahem! Yes, sorry my lady, I have been taken somewhat by surprise. Normally, such a high ranking visit would have long foretold. My Chamberlin tells me you are here to sort out the coup in Dane-mark.”
It was Drustina’s turn to clear her throat as modesty did finally cause her to correct the king’s assumption.
“Well your majesty, I would think that is a somewhat presumptuous conclusion, but I am certainly here concerning the possible causes of the coup. Two the jarls of Dane-mark have accompanied me here to try and get closer to some un-answered questions.”
The king turned and commanded the jarls to rise.
“Ah yes; so you two gentlemen are a party to this disgraceful business.”
The jarls hesitated uncertainly until Drustina saw another opportunity to reinforce her intermediary position. She boldly spoke up for the Jarls where they might have been cowed by the king’s rank. In so doing she earned kudos in their affections. She explained the reason for their visit and her part in trying to establish the truth. The king was intrigued by Drustina’s forensic efforts for he had often to arbitrate between his own higher ranking nobles. He accepted Drustina’s entreaty to explain and called for wine as he invited them all to sit at a table that was being prepared for the returning celebration.
Once seated, Drustina explained at length whilst avoiding any suggestion of collusion between herself and Queen Brendigan. Once the discussion was over, the king commended Drustina on her search for truth and her techniques. The jarls were also grateful for the Lionesses’ intercedence on their behalf. All in all the day’s diplomacy and inquiry had gone really well for Drustina and she was feeling quite pleased with herself. After the inquiry was over the King nodded with satisfaction and commanded a hastily prepared feast to celebrate his unexpected return. At the feast, Drustina, unusually, got a little drunk.
~~ooo000ooo~~
The Angry Mermaid 57.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 57
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Iselda King Athun’s middle sister. (Only witness to Athun’s attempt to save
His younger brother Oswald.)
The Angry Mermaid 57
It was close to the middle hour when Drustina staggered uncertainly to her bed. As she picked her way to her allotted chamber several pairs of greedy eyes followed her progress and all had similar thoughts. Drunk she may have been but only slightly ...incapacitated, she certainly was not! As she slipped out of her britches and jerkin she felt for her familiar dagger and slipped it under her pillow. Then she laid her sword alongside her and flopped down onto the welcoming linen sheets. These precautions came naturally to Drustina; she had spent too many years alone amongst men. For fully a quarter of an hour she lay in the dark thinking about those years and Brendigan’s words,
‘You’ve packed an awful lot into such a short life.’
She had, of that there was no doubt and she wondered just how much more she would have to pack before she recovered her tribal lands; that was; if she ever recovered them. That little word ‘if’ counted for so much; her whole future no less. These thoughts left her restless and she was eventually alerted to somebody ... or bodies ... sneaking into her room.
‘Some things never change,’ she concluded with a silent, weary sigh as she reached for her dagger then slid silently off the bed to crouch low beside the bedpost in the shadow. Next she reached back under the bed-cloths to recover her sword then she waited. She sensed rather than felt the approach as the visitors whispered softly. Drustina smiled evilly as she heard the floorboard creak further along the floor as one of the visitors leant onto the bed. There soft creak caused the visitor to flinch as he or she felt nervously along the bed-clothes. Finally there was a shocked gasp as both visitors realised the bed was empty. The whispers became louder and more agitated as the visitors realised things were not as they expected. Finally Drustina recognised the voices as the jarls from Dane-mark.
From her vantage point low down in the stygian shadows, Drustina could make out their outlines in the northern, midnight semidarkness. She smiled inwardly as she watched their silhouettes stepping nervously around the bed until one of them was within sword-reach. There was no evidence of any weapons in their hands but Drustina reflected with no small amusement;
‘Men had other weapons to harm a girl.’
She gently thrust the sharp tip of her Toledo into the approximate position of the nearest jarl’s most sensitive spot and heard him squeal with fearful surprise as she hit the bull’s-eye.
“Move and I’ll geld you!” She spoke loudly.
The shadow pinned at the end of her sword froze and squealed again.
“Oww you bitch, you’ve spiked me.”
“Then you better hadn’t move had you; or you’ll wave goodbye to your balls. Tell your crony to light the candle. It’s on that side of the bed.”
The jarl squealed to his crony.
“Knud! Do as she says, her bloody sword will castrate me, she’s got it right in my balls!”
The pinned jarl stood frozen as his accomplice groped for a candle then took it outside to light it from one of the passage torches. He returned to bend over the bed using the candle to illuminate his friend’s plight. His friend was paralyzed with fear and now pinned against the end of the bed. Drustina had urged him gently sideways in the dark while the other jarl was lighting the candle. Even so, her persuasive sword had wrought more blood from the jarl’s groin and it stained his britches. She now had them where she wanted them and she ordered the second jarl to raise the alarm. To reinforce her words, she released an ear piercing female scream that would have awoken the dead.
The effect was electric and the second jarl dashed out into the passage hell bent on avoiding being caught in Drustina’s room. He left his friend to the tender mercies of Drustina’s sword and the approaching guards. His friend cursed him for his cowardice and turned to Drustina in some useless attempt to deny their intentions.
“We meant you no harm. We came unarmed.”
“Except for that!” She nodded significantly to the bleeding lump in his britches.
“I; ... no we didn’t, honestly.”
“Then why turn up at the middle hour in a ladies bedroom? Sorry jarl, that doesn’t cut it.”
With these words the guards arrived belatedly and stopped as they discovered the comical scene. A bare-breasted woman holding a jarl at bay by the simple expedient of pinning him by his genitals as his arse was pressed fearfully against the bed. The guards let out a snort of derisory laughter and promptly sheathed their swords. The jarl was bleeding from a modest wound to his scrotum but it was enough to immobilise him. Drustina spoke to the guards.
“Take him away; we’ll sort him out in the morning. Oh, and please ... post one guard outside my door.”
“Yes ma-am.”
With the precautions arranged, Drustina slipped back into her bed. In the darkness she reflected on the number of occasions she had dealt with similar incidents.
‘What was it with men ... ´ she wondered? ‘Where their brains truly in their dicks?’
She slept uneasily and was disturbed by a knocking on her door fairly early. It was Brendigan and her husband.
“Come in!” Drustina called as she slipped out of bed. Thus invited, Brendigan entered first while ordering her husband to wait.
She arrived as Drustina had just finished changing her pants. She gasped at the multitude of scars that covered Drustina’s feminine curves.
“My God woman! I thought your upper body was bad enough but your lower hide is like a badly whipped horse!”
With her back still turned towards Brendigan, Drustan simply explained.
“Battle scars my lady; yes I have a few. My reputation did not come cheap.”
“That huge scar; the one down the cheek of your arse. How came you by that?”
Drustina decided to play the trauma card. It usually worked with other women.
“That’s a long time ago my lady, I don’t usually talk about my wounds. Especially that one, I was very young and very frightened. Memories you understand, painful memories. Friends who died.”
Brendigan nodded understanding and quickly changed the subject.
“D’you usually sleep naked?”
Drustina continued presenting her back to Brendigan and was she already reaching for her britches as she quickly tucked her male appendage. Once the bulge was hidden she turned to face Brendigan with her breasts naked but with her britches hoisted up.
“Yes.” Drustina replied as she reached for her jerkin.
Brendigan saw more scars then noticed the firm orbs that showed evidence of having suckled a child and she frowned uncertainly as they quickly disappeared from view.
“Have you had a child?”
“Yes, my twins are awaiting my return back to Dane-Mark.”
“Twins!”
“Yes.” Drustina repeated as she finished tucking her jerkin and slipping her dagger into its hidden scabbard between her shoulder blades. Brendigan’s eyes widened again before she finally called to the king.
“You can enter now sire, Drustina’s decent.”
Drustina smiled at the formality of Brendigan’s address to her husband and she kneeled to tie her boots as the king entered.
“There’s no need to kneel my lady.” The king grinned.
“I was tying my boots sir. Now, I presume you’re here about last night.”
“Most certainly. My inquiries lead me to the fact that they hoodwinked the passageway guard and tricked their way to your chamber.”
“Well no harm came of it save for two punctured egos and one punctured ball-bag.”
“Well yes my lady. That little cameo is already the toast of the royal guard room. I don’t know how to apologise for this terrible breach of hospitality.”
“No apology is needed to me but those twerps need to be punished.”
“How?”
“That’s the problem, they need to return with me back to Dane-mark to witness Brendigan’s letter.”
“Would it help if I returned to my homeland with you?” Brendigan asked.
Drustina’s eyes widened with mild surprise as she hesitated thoughtfully.
“Well ... well yes it would but you’d need a full escort. Until some sort of order is restored in Dane-mark I could not guarantee your safety.”
“That can be arranged.” The king added. “I have a large fleet of ships to escort her.”
Once again Drustina weighed up the pros and cons.
“A large fleet might be misinterpreted as some sort of invasion. This is a delicate matter. It was my intention to somehow re-establish order by legitimate means; diplomacy and reason you understand.”
The three of them sat thoughtfully on Drustina’s bed as they considered the situation; finally Drustina ventured a plan.
“Perhaps if I returned first with some information and the first letter about Oswald’s death and if you composed a second letter explaining why the two jarls are being detained and that your are following a couple of days behind then I might be able to hold the ring until you reach the Cubenhavn."
The king sat digesting the plan and finally agreed.
“Bearing in mind you best understand the situation in Dane-mark, then I think it’s a good plan. You will be able to warn the Danes that my wife returns only as a diplomat.”
“Yes. My ship should arrive perhaps a day or even two days ahead.
The king stifled a small gasp of incredulity as he repeated.
“Two days! Is that possible. My longships are deemed some of the most powerful and speedy in all Scandinavia.”
Drustina nodded and smiled enigmatically.
“I built her myself your majesty, I know every single plank and nail. Only I and my sister know her secrets.”
“You have a sister?”
“I come from a large family sir. Three sisters and three brothers. I think all my brothers are dead or in slavery to the Viking pirates who raided our village. My sisters are all safe. This I know, I made them safe.”
“Remarkable, quite remarkable. Come, we must talk over breakfast.”
Drustina reflected silently on the risks surrounding her telling all. The truth surrounding her duality might escape if she told too much. Her diplomatic endeavours depended on somehow ensuring a succession to the Danish throne. If she was perforce to impregnate Elthorn secretly then she must do it secretly. Her duality must remain a secret.
Fortunately, the Svensk were more interested in her adventures in the Middle sea so Drustina dwelt at length upon these events except to briefly confirm that she was the child who had killed Blueface during the battle in Dumnoni peninsular. On learning of this fact the king ventured his opinion.
“If you are that child then you are called ‘Scar-arse’.”
“I was until my womanly nature arrived. Once I reached womanhood I made it abundantly clear that I found the name offensive and men who persisted with that offense would fall foul of my martial skills.”
The king backtracked as he realised no woman like to have attentions drawn to any disfigurement and to save further embarrassment Brendigan intervened.
“Dear husband, I have seen that scar, or at least a substantial part of it. Shall we not dwell upon it. Drustina has already told me it’s an uncomfortable issue.”
Drustina flashed a smile at Brendigan.
“Thank you sister. I’ve other scars enough to count for my identity. I can’t hide this one for example, except by wearing long sleeves. Now in summer, I bare my arms and it is there for all to see.”
She twisted her bare arm and wrist to reinforce her words as the arrow flensing gash was fully revealed. It was always visible but by twisting her arm the scar’s full extent and ugliness became clearly apparent. The king and queen fell into a thoughtful silence which Drustina broke with a change of subject.
“Now shall we move on to a strategy to deal with the Danish coup.”
“Have you a plan then Drustina?” The king asked.
“Essentially it’s to first clear Athun’s name then to see Elthorn put with child. If I can prove Brendigan’s brother to be a suitable king, the jarls will have to accept his legality and subsequent authority.”
“But first you have to prove it,” the king cautioned her.
“I’m on shaky ground there. I hope Brendigan’s letter and presence will suffice at the forthcoming hearing that I shall organise. In truth your majesty, the jarls have been disempowered by my small successes in holding their forces at bay. I don’t think all the jarls will have the stomach for a full blooded fight if their arguments are based on further uncertainties. There’s going to be a lot of wheeling and dealing plus a lot of bluff.”
“And my wife is expected to go into this arena with little more than her word and your sword.”
Drustina nodded somewhat apologetically. The king wagged his head and turned to his queen.
“Well Brendigan. How do you feel about it?”
“The jarls are unlikely to harm me even if they cannot agree on my evidence. I am after all their kinsmen. I’m only there to bear witness. I have no part in the contention. That falls to Drustina.”
“It all sounds pretty shaky to me. I’ll send an extra flotilla of ships to reinforce your safety and demonstrate Svensk power.”
Drustina was secretly glad that she had inadvertently screwed a larger fleet out of the Swedish king. If push came to shove and her diplomatic entreaties failed utterly she might yet be forced onto the battlefield. If the Svensk perceived any enmity as a threat to Brendigan they would probably move against the jarls. They would be a useful addition to Drustina’s meagre forces. Drustina had little doubt that the jarls would have been reinforcing their forces during her short absence.
On this uncertain note, the king and his guests spent the rest of the day visiting the city of Stack-holm..
~~~~oo0oo~~~~
The following dawn found Drustina preparing to leave. She concluded that she would take the jarls back with her for she had enough men at arms to contain them if they decided to try and escape. With this decision made, the two intended rapists were delivered to her care and ‘The Angry Mermaid’ bid farewell to the king and his queen Brendigan. The king’s eyes scanned the ‘Mermaid’s’ departure enviously as the ship virtually flew out of ‘The Sund’ the moment her sails caught the wind. He turned thoughtfully to Brendigan.
“What I could do with a fleet of ships like her dear wife. I could rule all of Scandinavia.”
“Then it’s a good job The Angry mermaid’s secrets are locked up in the Warrior Queen’s head dear husband, for I’m sure every king would love to learn her secrets. It’s best if she enjoys the reputation that that fine ship brings her. She has proven she has no ambition to usurp other kings or steal any crowns throughout her adventures all over Europe.”
“Yes,” The Svensk king confessed ruefully. “In truth, that’s the only reason I trust her.”
“Come dear husband,” Brendigan finished. “We must make haste with our own preparations if we are to reach Dane-mark in four days.”
While Brendigan and the Svensk fleet prepared hastily, ‘The Angry Mermaid’ was making excellent time. Once on passage, Drustina occupied herself with steering and squeezing every ounce of speed from the Mermaid’s hull whilst Heingist spent his off-watch time ribbing the jarls.
“I warned you two idiots not to try anything with her. What in the God’s names made you think you’d get away with such a stupid endeavour?”
The jarls scowled with embarrassment as they fidgeted with the single manacle that bound them together. Drustina had not even bothered to secure them to a mast-step just to demonstrate how much she held the pair in contempt. She also had the full confidence in her loyal crew who she knew would be watching them constantly. She believed there was no danger from the dishonoured pair and she was proven right. Throughout the speedy voyage, the jarls caused no trouble. Mainly because they knew justice would be speedy and final.
They arrived in Cuben-havn late in the evening of the second day.
~~ooo000ooo~~
The Angry Mermaid 58
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 58.
Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese Drustinas’ mare
Capenda Taras’ mare.
Athun Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist. Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
The Angry Mermaid 58.
Authors note.
A ‘thing’ was an Old Norse word for a convention or a parliament or any organised meeting or discussion to resolve law or governance. To this day the Icelandic Parliament is sometimes called a ‘Thing’ or an ‘All-thing’.
~o0o~
Drustina’s return proved, as she had expected, to be tumultuous. The jarls were very angry about the circumstances surrounding their two associate’s enshacklement but on being presented with the Svensk King’s letter explaining the circumstances and developments, the majority of the jarls felt compelled to await Queen Brendigan’s return. Nevertheless, it took all of Drustina’s persuasive abilities to get all the jarls agree to some sort of inquiry about Athun’s suitability to resume his rule.
Athun and Queen Elthorn were now at least in control of their castle and free to go abroad in the city of Cuben-havn courtesy of Drustina’s small army.
The biggest development was however the return to some degree of normalcy for the ordinary citizens of Dane-mark. After completing the arrangements for Brendigan’s return to her home country and city that same evening, Drustina slumped on her bed while her mind worked overtime addressing all the issues that were to come before the inquiry. She dearly wished that Brendigan’s younger sister could have returned from Frankish lands. She was a mature, material witness now. At the time of the initial events she had been deemed too young to give a safe and accurate account of the event.
The following morning Drustina and her lieutenants took a tour around the city and they were pleased to note that their reception from the citizenry was extremely friendly. For despite the lingering feelings of oppression and overbearance by the jarls, the ordinary people had soon got wind of the forthcoming ‘Thing’ to establish Athun’s suitability to reign. Drustina did not get mobbed by over-enthusiastic crowds yet, because the issue of the King had not been resolved, but she sensed the hopeful smiles that emanated from the citizens whenever she was stopped in the street and asked to address some issue concerning the political situation. She realised that many issues were riding on the outcome of the forthcoming ‘Thing’ and that left an air of uncertainty in the country.
Two days later, the Svensk fleet bearing Queen Brendigan in all her pomp and glory, arrived at the Havn. Athun and Elthorn received her at the royal quay whilst the Eric, Carl, Urthos and the jarls stood attendance as Brendigan disembarked. Of Drustina however, there was no sign.
Whilst the rest of the city had gone overboard with celebrations and preparations for the visit by their long-lost daughter
Brendigan, Drustina and Heingist had slipped secretly amongst the people to ascertain just what they, the people, wanted. Brendigan’s arrival was a perfect time to seek the mood of the ordinary people. Whilst the various authorities were preoccupied with Brendigan’s safety and security, there were fewer of the jarl’s or King Athun’s spies about on the streets. Drustina felt she could more accurately gauge the moods, wishes and feelings of the sorely oppressed citizenry.
One lesson she learned was that all the citizenry were desperate for the forthcoming ‘All-thing’ that would hopefully settle the kingship issues once and for all. However what Drustina learned most importantly, was that the citizenry desperately wished for a return to some sort of law and order. Heingist had not been the only one to have suffered from the avaricious predations of the jarls.
This was an issue that weighed heavily on Drustina’s mind for though she had to appear fair and reasonable to everybody; her sympathies really lay with the common people. They, like Heingist, had seen their livelihoods and lands purloined or, destroyed or taxed to breaking point.
Naturally, almost as soon as she had set foot ashore, Brendigan asked of the whereabouts of Drustina. When she learned from one of Drustina’s trusted lieutenants that Drustina was secretly out and about gathering evidence for the forthcoming ‘all-thing’, Brendigan simply smiled and concluded the warrior queen would make her entrance as and when she saw fit.
And so it was.
That evening as the welcome feast was starting, Drustina and Heingist finally put in an appearance. Brendigan was doubly pleased to see them as they took their seats at the high table.
To the puzzlement of the jarls, instead of plunging into an orgy of rowdy feasting and celebrating; Drustina ate sparingly whilst talking at length to Queen Brendigan and her brother king Athun. However, Drustina was astute enough and sober enough to make sure she was also seen talking to all the jarls even if they were drunk. Drustina was learning the art of diplomacy and politics very quickly for, whilst she ensured she was seen in seeming communication with the jarls, she actually spent most of the time listening. She learned more as the beer began to speak for the jarls and loosened their tongues. As the jarls grew louder and more rumbustuous, people began to notice that Drustina was seemingly busy communicating with them but in reality she was simply creating a high profile of appearing to talk to them, later nobody could accuse her of being partisan and only listening to the king.
By the night’s end, Drustina’s ears were ringing from the noisy assault of the jarl’s drunken boorishness but she had suffered it to learn as much as possible in preparation for the forthcoming ‘Thing’. She found a bed that night in a room that lay between Brendigan’s apartment on one side and Elthorn’s on the other. She also noted that Elthorn slept in a lonely bed whilst her chaperoning ladies in waiting ensured she did not receive visits from other men. The following morning she confirmed her suspicions with Elthorn. Athun was indeed abed elsewhere each night. Drustina felt sorry for Elthorn and during the remaining nights she slowly introduced Elthorn to her alternative plan if they could not somehow persuade Athun to fulfil his kingly duties by getting Elthorn with child.
The following morning after the welcome feast, the investigation was commenced to determine if Athun was a suitable king. Thanks to the previous night’s bacchanalian festivities, the jarls were ill prepared to offer coherent arguments for they had made no preparations of their case. Inevitably, Drustina was invited to preside over the ‘Thing’ for nobody else could make a claim to impartiality whilst yet having the power to give the inquiry force and bite.
After winning the confidence of both sides Drustina brought the meeting to order and invited the jarls to make their case.
~~~ooo000ooo~~~
Inevitably the arguments eventually came down to the incident concerning Athun’s younger brother Oswald’s death and this pivotal issue gave Brendigan’s evidence an aura of ‘Force majeure’.
After reading out her own letter, Drustina invited both the jarls and King Athun to question the Svensk Queen.
Having been carefully prompted by Drustina the previous evening, Athun asked factual questions that provided firm factual answers from his sister Brendigan. This gave Brendigan’s account an appearance of substance and factuality. He left it to the jarls to try and somehow discredit Brendigan or devalue her evidence and this they singularly failed to do. Their lack of preparation to make a case and their own internecine bickering served to weaken and eventually destroy the jarls’ case. Eventually, the majority of the jarls were unconsciously realising that their case hinged mainly on the question of the king’s sexuality and their own prejudices towards this issue. The truth was the jarls were looking for a way out of the impasse of their own making. The more reasonable and intelligent of the jarls could see that without a properly recognisable and legal authority to maintain unity, their country would become enervated by the constant uncertainty. The consequent enfeeblement would make them easy prey to an invader.
Drustina was secretly beside herself with satisfaction as she finally delivered her summary and next ventured her opinion. After a whole day of vexatious and contentious discord it seemed that if Athun could get his queen with child then a legitimate heir and potentially acceptable future monarch could become an acceptable and unifying entity. The jarls were prepared to wait for a new and legitimate king to inherit Athun’s throne ... before Athun’s passing if necessary.
It was finally agreed that Athun had a year to get Elthorn pregnant. As the light failed Drustina was relieved to finally bang her sword on the table and declare an end to proceedings. As the jarls filed out seemingly satisfied with events Queen Elthorn quietly approached Drustina.
“How am I going to entice him to my bed? What do I have to do?”
“You have to get his seed in your body, that’s what you have to do!”
“And how the hell am I to do that? You know he cannot function with women.”
“I know, but he can function with a man!” Drustina smiled enigmatically.
Elthorn frowned uncomprehendingly.
“I don’t follow you.”
Drustina sighed. Crunch time had arrived. She breathed deeply and ventured into uncertain waters as she spoke softly so as not to alarm Queen Elthorn. She spoke haltingly at first, pausing to see how Elthorn took each revelation and waiting to see if she had any questions.
“Dear queen, you know little about me except what you have learned of my exploits.”
“Yes,” Elthorn replied as her brow furrowed further.
“Well firstly I must reassure you. You remember when my flotilla finally docked with the women and children mainly in Sister Catherine’s boat.”
“I do indeed. And a fine band of women they were. I was impressed by their independence, especially that woman who sings; the one who looks like you, Tara. You rescued those women I’m told.”
Drustina smiled disarmingly but did not explain further. It was enough to know that Sister Catherine and her ex-nuns were respected and held in high esteem by the citizens of Dane-mark since they had landed. She simply replied.
“Yes, one way or another I helped to rescue them all. The lady Tara, you say she looks like me.”
“Yes; why? Is she related?”
“She’s my older sister. I rescued her from a dance troupe in Constantinople. She had been enslaved by the Vikings who raided my home and then she was sold on from pillar to post all across Europe.”
“My God! I did not know. She should be here in the castle as an honoured guest.”
“No. She’s happy doing good deeds in your town. She works well with Sister Catherine and the other women. But I am digressing. You have seen the two children with Tara.”
“Yes,” Elthorn nodded ... your nephew and niece I presume?”
“Not quite dear Elthorn; they are mine, my own children; my daughter and my son. Tara is their aunt.”
“My God, you mean you’re a mother!”
Drustina nodded slowly as different emotions flashed across Elthorn’s countenance.
“Oh my God! Then they must become guests of the palace!”
“I would prefer not, at least not until we resolve this impasse; the small matter of getting you with child by Athun. My children’s anonymity is their best protection during these unsettled times.”
“I follow. So how am I to be put with child?”
Drustina took a deeper breath as she slipped further from the security of the shore into yet murkier waters.
“Elthorn, I must hold you to a great secret. I must extract from you a sworn oath. An oath my lieutenants have kept and honoured since I was first encumbered of my womanhood.”
“A secret. What is that? And what d'you mean 'encumbered of your womanhood; d'you mean your puberty?”
“Your promise first, if you will. I must have your promise to secrecy!”
Elthorn like most people, loved to be a party to a secret and she swore an oath not to reveal anything. Having extracted some sort of security, Drustina revealed all. Firstly she stood and postured to accentuate every inch of her strong but curveaceous womanly shape. Drustina was tall for a woman yet feminine in all her physical movements and natures. Elthorn watched as Drustina unclipped her jerkin to reveal firm breasts that had obviously suckled children. Thus Drustina reinforced that image of femininity that put Elthorn at her ease.
“I see you have fed children from those breasts and yet they remain maidenly.”
“My activities as a warrior keep them toned. My muscles are in part manly despite the curves.”
“I see, so why are you telling me this? What is the big secret?”
“Be patient and prepare yourself for a shock; do not be alarmed. I do not harm women.”
These words caused Elthorn to tense. The idea of there being a threat however, prepared her for the next huge shock.
Drustina did not turn away to hide her male parts for by turning suddenly to then present them might be too dramatic. Besides her derriere invariably drew comments concerning her huge scar and she did not wish to detract from the next event.
Instead she proceeded to lower her britches and sensually step out of them to stand with only a secure breech cloth. Under the breech-cloth, Elthorn noticed the unusually swollen mons and wondered if Drustina was having her period. Drustina explained slowly.
“Yes, you noticed my bulge. Now you shall see. Are you ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Elthorn replied as Drustina slipped the tie string around her waist.
Slowly, she lowered the front and Elthorn began to see. She stared then frowned then her jaw fell in slack amazement as finally, Drustina let the breech cloth fall to the floor. Elthorn was speechless. Her eyes swiftly rose from Drustina’s groin to her face where their gazes met. Elthorn quickly relaxed as she found no threat in Drustina’s expression. Then she found her voice.
“You’re a man!”
Drustina paused, loosened her top-knot then shook her head. Her long blond pony-tail cascaded effeminately down her back and across the cheeks of her curvaceous bum.
“Not quite dear sister. I am both. Please, I wish you no alarm but now you will see.”
Drustina paused as her expression tuned to inquisition as her eyebrows lifted.
“Are you ready for this?”
Elthorn wagged her head in continuing amazement.
“I’m just about ready for anything now.”
With this implied permission Drustina stepped towards a chair and sat upon it. She looked questioningly again at Elthorn who nodded assent. Then Drustina raised her knees and parted her thighs to reveal her innermost secret part. Elthorn’s eyes narrowed with confusion and she stepped nearer as Drustina lifted her male parts up and aside. Then Elthorn’s jaw fell slack as she recognised the very same arrangements as she and all other women enjoyed. The creature before her was both man AND woman!
“So you do have a woman’s — a woman’s ... parts. You ARE a mother! Truly, this woman's part, it works as well? You are not just deceiving me?” Elthorn asked, almost in a whisper.
“Oh yes, most certainly.” Drustina replied equally quietly. “I bore my twins as any mother does.”
“Have you ever fathered a child?”
“Yes. In the country of the great Nile River, I bore the Pharo a child and I put his sister with child. Father and mother I am both.”
Elthorn fell silent as her head filled with possibilities.
“You could put me with child and nobody would know.”
“I could, but I would prefer your child to be Athun’s child, the legitimate heir to Dane-mark. You must realise that I, least of all, have cause to censure Athun for his predilictions. I would not see his right to having a legitimate heir denied him.
I know full well what it's like to be persecuted for that which one can do nothing about. I have been there Elthorn, when I was but a youthor yet a maid and uncertain of my nature. That is one reason I cling to the old gods, the old ways. This new god and his priests is a cruel and unforgiving spirit. But enough of my life the issue is to get your pregnant by Athun. That is what I want, legitimacy to ensure a just peace for all."
“Well wouldn’t we all? The question is how? How am I to become pregnant by the king?”
“Leave that to me dear sister. I will speak with Athun and his boy-friend shortly.”
Elthorn sat puzzled as she watched Drustina enrobe again. Finally they were sitting opposite each other and Elthorn called for wine. One of the ladies in waiting delivered it and smiled at Drustina, totally ignorant that there was a functioning penis in the queen’s bed-chamber. Drustina and Elthorn exchanged enigmatic smiles as they considered the great secret.
After breakfasting Drustina paid her respects and left to speak to Athun’s ‘boy-friend’ the captain of the palace guard.
She found him in his quarters sorting out issues concerning the last inspection of his men. He immediately stood to attention as she appeared and Drustina reflected silently as to how her status amongst the guards-men seemed to be even higher than King Athun’s. She smiled to acknowledge his respect and immediately set about putting the captain at his ease. She broached the subject delicately but once she had reassured the captain that she was not censuring him for his sexuality or for where his affections lay, she got down to business.
“I’ll not beat about the bush captain for I have important business to finish.”
“Go on your majesty, then how may I be of help?”
“Well this next bit is a bit delicate. I know you and King Athun are ‘ahem’ partners, may I use that word?”
The captain’s face crimsoned slightly but he kept calm. Drustina admired his fortitude in not showing any fear. The captain nodded thoughtfully and Drustina saw the ‘shutters’ going up behind the captain’s eyes so she opened up hastily.
“Look captain, I have no problems concerning your relationship with the king but I find myself lumbered with a difficult task. I’ll have to be blunt for this can be put no other way.”
“Go on,” the captain replied as his lips pursed and his jaw tightened.
Drustina saw and felt the captain’s resentment so she moved quickly to avert a complete ‘lock-up’ of dialogue.
“The fact is Captain; I have to somehow enable Queen Elthorn to beget a child by her husband King Athun. If she can’t have his child then the deal we have wrought from the jarls will fall through. The king will probably be forced to renounce his throne and that will serve everybody ill; not least your good self. I want Elthorn, Athun and indeed, you; to be safe when I am gone.”
The captain’s expression eased slightly as Drustina caught his interest.
“Go on. How can I help?”
“Well, and I don’t treat this lightly, I need to know how I can get him passionate enough to impregnate his queen.”
“You’ll be lucky! Women are anathema to him.”
“I’ve already gathered that. Elthorn can elicit nothing from him. She deems her marriage a sham. It has not even been consummated yet.”
“That’s probably true. He has little interest in the man’s part; he prefers to take the woman’s role.”
“What, you mean he acts the bitch? With you, you mean?”
The captain nodded and explained.
“I take him as the dog and she accepts me as the bitch. It is always this way. It is the only way he gets excited, the only way he functions.”
“You mean he ejaculates when you take him by the arse.”
“You seem to know a lot for a lady your majesty. I am surprised such a highborn lady would know of these things.”
Drustina gave him a wide disarming grin as she explained.
“Captain, I have fought and shared hardships with my soldiers for several years now. I know much of what is partaken in the nights and on the eve of battles. Men become desperate to experience life’s pleasures when they know they may be dead on the morrow. Inhibitions are lost in the press of fearful anticipation.”
The captain fell into a brief silent introspection. He had only once faced that circumstance and there had been no dilemma for him in taking the opportunity to engage a union with his king on the eve of that brief battle in the town when Drustina had fought the jarls to a stalemate. The following day, he and his lover King Athun had combined in desperate union as they celebrated their brief remission from possible execution. Now this strange, Celtic, warrior-queen seemed to have some sort of plan to enable a union between Athun and Elthorn. The captain concluded it would do no harm to indulge her so he explained their lovemaking. He explained that their routine rarely changed. After much affection and emotion, he the captain, inevitably took King Athun by the arse and they indulged their passions gently at first, then with a desperate urgency as their needs took them. Drustina listened and then nodded knowingly before asking her own questions.
“I take it then that Athun orgasms when you serve him up the arse.”
The captain nodded.
“Yes your majesty. He is very virile in that respect. He is very potent and his seed fills his hand-cloth. We do not like to make messes in our bed.”
Drustina grinned as she finally had the information she needed. Athun was virile, provided he was stimulated the right way. Provided a good stiff cock was pounding away in Athun’s arse, he would ejaculate. It only remained for her to get Athun into Elthorn’s bed and there bring him to climax. She checked one last detail with the captain.
“Is your king’s erection fully hard?”
“As hard as oak your majesty!” The captain almost crowed with delight.
“Good. Then that’s all I need to know. Your lover might not be in your bed for the next few months. I’m afraid he has other duties that will keep you apart.”
The captain’s face sagged with disappointment so Drustina explained.
“I’m afraid he will have to spend the next few months working to complete his side of the bargain with the jarls, namely begetting a child by Elthorn”.
~~ooo000ooo~~
The Angry mermaid 59.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon.
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twins grandfather.
Giana... The twins grandmother
Caderyn... The twins father.
Herenoie... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Chapter 59.
That same afternoon Drustina found Athun busy in his counting house attending to some business with the city burghers. He looked up as the door from the family apartments creaked and he smiled at Drustina.
"Come in my lady. I’ll just finish with this issue and I’ll take a break so that we can share some wine."
Drustina glanced at the city burghers who seemed quite at ease as they each held some papers in their hands. They lowered their heads respectfully towards Drustina and she returned the courtesy as she took a side seat at the end of the king’s table. It was her usual position when the king wanted her company or advice in dealing with issues where he had less experience. On this occasion however, it was run-of-the-mill business with the city burghers and King Athun was well up on it. Drustina watched silently as the king listened to a particular burgher’s issue and she admired the way he attended to a pretty fair and good solution.
‘He’s not all cock and arse,’ she mused while the burgher nodded with satisfaction as he and King Athun discussed costings.
After sorting that particular issue Athun stood to address the meeting.
“Gentlemen, if my good lady Drustina sees fit to come here it is usually on some issue of importance. I shall adjourn this meeting and resume it tomorrow. Thank you for your time.”
He turned to his Chamberlin at his side as the man busied himself with the papers. A quick glance at the list told Athun what he needed to know then he stepped towards Drustina.
“So my brave lady. What brings you to this mundane but essential meeting?”
“Are you free to discuss some rather personal and difficult issues my lord?”
“For you Drustina, always.”
“May we go somewhere private, somewhere very private?”
Athun’s eyes narrowed with curiosity as he nodded agreement. Drustina sensed that Athun suspected what was coming. It was the ‘elephant in the room’, the ‘dragon terrorising the kingdom’.
He led her to an antechamber and closed the heavy door. After locking it, he led her to a further, smaller room and then locked that. With a nervous smile he motioned to her to sit as he checked outside the small single window. Drustina realised they were in the North tower and nobody could ordinarily lurk outside the window for it was some fifty feet above the ground. After closing one of the rare glass fittings Athun turned and smiled weakly.
“I suspect I know what this is about. An heir to the throne I take it?”
“It is indeed your majesty. Elthorn tells me you have not yet been to ‘visit’ her in her bed chamber.”
Athun sat silent as he turned and stared towards the light coming through the window. Drustina also sat silently waiting as she realised he was wrestling with his answer. She sat for a long minute before realising Athun’s eyes were glistening. Then a single tear escaped his eye and glistened on his cheek as the light from the window betrayed his despair. She stood then hesitated for a moment before gently grasping his shoulders. Surprised by the unfamiliar intimacy, Athun turned to face her. He wiped his tear then met her eyes. He had been expecting some contemptuous glare but instead he found only compassion and understanding in those incongruously cold, grey eyes.
“I do not disgust you?” He asked.
Drustina stepped back slightly surprised at Athun’s candour before replying.
“No you do not, not at all. That is why I am here. I have not come to condemn or censure you; I come hoping to offer solutions.”
“Is there one. I cannot serve my queen, I just cannot!”
“Do you find her detestable then?”
“As a companion and a friend, I find her delightful. She is a joy to chat to and I find her entertaining and funny. I could not have found a more agreeable lifetime friend but I’m afraid in the bed chamber, well ...”
He turned and stared despondently through the single north-facing window. Drustina waited by the table for she recognised he was gathering what courage it took to reveal his problem. After nearly a minute he turned as his shoulders sagged and he spoke softly.
“I’m a woman; in my head that is. I can only take the woman’s part. The thought of having to take the man’s part leaves me in despair. I do not, uuhm ... you know, function that way.”
Drustina nodded slowly, paused thoughtfully then took the plunge.
“May I be absolutely honest with you Athun; may I discuss your most personal and intimate affairs?”
“Is there anything more to discuss?” Athun asked as defeat dulled his voice.
Drustina stepped forward and placed her hands on Athun’s shoulders again. He tensed and she realised he suspected a dagger in his heart. She stepped back to reassure him as she spoke.
“I carry no weapons save the dagger in my shoulder sheath under my blouse, look, I will show you.”
Drustina had an alternative agenda, namely to expose her naked body to Athun and let him see her unique duality. Athun stood tensely for a moment then begged her to cease stripping. Drustina put her finger to her lips and uttered one word as she continued stripping.
“Wait.”
Athun watched uncertainly as she turned her back, placed her jerkin on the chair and with her back still towards him, she stepped out of her britches and breech. Apart from her shoulder sheath and dagger, Drustina was now completely naked but with her back to the king. She spoke again with her back still turned.
“As you see, I am naked but armed. I will now remove my dagger to reassure you I have absolutely NO murderous intent.”
So saying she reached for her dagger and in one lightening move she flung the dagger at the chamber door where it struck with a violent ‘thud’ and embedded itself deep into the solid oak, where it hummed with vibrations. Athun stared at it, impressed by the sheer force of the impact. As the dagger ceased to vibrate Drustina resumed talking softly.
“If I had wanted to kill you I could have done it a thousand times before today. I repeat again, I am NOT here to harm you but try and offer solutions.”
“So what is your solution and why the maidenly modesty? You might as well face me, I see no cause for such modesty, I cannot harm your womanhood, I have no interest there.”
Drustina smiled to herself as she turned to face the king.
“But perhaps you might have an interest in my manhood?”
Athun gasped and croaked his observation through a constricted throat as he shook his head disbelievingly.
“My God! What are you?”
“That is a cruel question Athun. You above all others should not judge a fellow traveller for whatever affliction they are cursed with. Your question should be ‘Who am I?”
Athun’s shock gradually faded from his face as he recovered his wits and let his eyes roam over Drustina’s body before returning to the organ that most perplexed and interested him. He then recovered his composure and remembered his manners as he apologised.
“You’re right. I’m sorry! You are what you are and I have no right to judge. But truly Drustina, are you a man? I mean, those breasts, they are beautiful ... you are beautiful. I can understand why those stupid jarls tried to visit you. Any man would lust for you until they saw that ... that beautiful cock. Are you a man?”
Drustina smiled and stepped towards the chair as Athun’s eyes followed her dangling manhood. Then she sat on the chair, pulled her knees up to her shoulders and parted her thighs to expose her most intimate part, her womanly core. Athun gasped again and stepped cautiously towards her. Drustina looked up and caught his eye.
“Yes. You may look, you may even touch if just to investigate but do not think I am helpless even now. I have martial skills to protect myself even when without weapons.”
Athun nodded his head respectfully.
“I’ve no doubt you have. I am just shocked and curious. Please ... please may I look closer?”
Drustina nodded and Athun stepped forward to kneel before her spread thighs. Once his eyes were level with her navel he leant forwards and stared mesmerised at the unbelievable duality. He looked up, met her soft inviting gaze and leant hopefully forward. Drustina stroked his head and he recognised the invite. Carefully he extended his lips and kissed her penis. Drustina twitched and murmured softly.
“He’ll get excited if you persist in doing that. He’s very virile and unruly when aroused.”
“Can I, can I please?” Athun begged.
Drustina put her hand under his jaw and gently drew him up off his knees as she explained.
“Of course you can. I’m hoping you’ll let me go further as well.”
“How so?”
“You say you prefer the woman’s part. Would you let me take the man’s?”
“But what of my partner Bjorn? The captain of my Palace guard.”
“I admire your loyalty Athun but do you not owe this loyalty also to Elthorn, has she not a right to bear your child?”
Athun’s face clouded as he replied.
“Well, yes, but how. You know my problem now. I do not function as a man.”
“No, I know you don’t, Bjorn has told me that. I apologise for invading your privacy like this but affairs of state must take precedence here. You agreed to at least try and get Elthorn with child. That is your kingly duty, your responsibility. Do not think of it as a betrayal of Bjorn, look upon it as a service to your country, an act to ensure peace and continuity. That would be a just peace enabling such as you and Bjorn ... and Elthorn to live without threat or fear of homicide in the future.”
Athun nodded thoughtfully then frowned.
“You are truly right. A just peace would make it safe for Elthorn, Bjorn and me; you are so right! But how is all this to help me put Elthorn with child?”
Drustina smiled encouragement and gently stroked Athun’s cheek.
“Bjorn told me that when you make love, when he takes you as a woman, he spoons with you and yet you become hard and make seed.”
Drustina saw the shock in Athuns eyes for he had held such intimacies to be vitally secret. 'Had Bjorn betrayed him?' He wondered and cursed softly.
“Damn it! Bjorn talks too much, but yes it’s true. I only confess this to you because now I understand you, or more correctly, I think you understand me.”
Drustina smiled enigmatically.
“Yes, that’s probably as close as either of us will get to understanding our natures. Having agreed with each other I therefore have a proposal and I hope this will work.”
“Go on. You intrigue me.” Athun smiled uncertainly.
Drustina took a deep breath and explained.
“Could you act the woman’s part with me, could you let me take you as Bjorn takes you?”
“You mean with that?”
Athun gently grasped Drustina’s manhood and kissed it. He felt it stiffen almost to order causing Drustina to squirm deliciously and gasp slightly.
“Exactly with ‘that’ as you describe him.”
Athun murmured with pleasure as Drustina’s manhood reared up commandingly and became hard as iron. He could not resist gyrating his hips and humping air as he kissed her penis again and savoured the delicious promise. Drustina gasped then grinned, reluctant to forego Athun’s kiss. She frowned slightly as Athun released her penis and looked up to compliment her.
“My god! You are hornier than Bjorn and that’s saying something.”
“Good,” Drustina replied, “Then let us establish the first part. Let’s you and I couple now and get our part sorted.”
“And then what? How will I serve Elthorn?”
Drustina smiled and wondered just where Athun had been during those years when young people experimented. She looked sideways and seductively as she gently undid the belt of his britches while asking him.
“Have you ever been ‘the meat in a sandwich’ oh king?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Oh come now Athun have you never tried three in a bed?”
Athun frowned as he considered the question then admitted he hadn’t. Drustina explained.
“Well, it’s no matter if you have or haven’t; provided you are prepared to go with it now. I am proposing that we three, Elthorn, you and I share a bed and share the act. I enter you from behind as you take the woman’s part; this gets you hard then Elthorn impales herself upon your organ and takes your seed from you.”
“Would that work?” Athun wondered aloud. "Would Elthorn be prepared to do that, to share her bed with two others?"
“I can tell you now, the answer to your question is yes. I have worked hard to organise this solution and Elthorn is prepared to accept this compromise. It’s the only way I can see forward.” Drustina replied.
“You mean Elthorn's agreed to it? I'm impressed Drustina the storied of your diplomacies and solutions seem even more plausible when I hear of this solution. Truly I am shocked but elated if this can work.”
“Listen Athun. Elthorn wants your child, Elthorn wants to serve her country. Elthorn wants’ the king’s peace to prevail. I have confirmed all this with her, woman to woman.”
“Woman to woman! And what of this?” Athun chuckled as he bent forward again and savoured the hardness rising from Drustina’s loins.
Drustina replied softly then reluctantly eased Athun’s lips off her manhood.
“That is my duality Athun. It is my burden, my cross to bear, as the Christians would say . I do not bear it lightly.”
Athun fell into a thoughtful silence as he considered Drustina’s reply. Then he remembered her ambition, to one day recapture her lands and probably rule. He asked.
“If you win back your beloved Lleyn, will you rule as king or queen?”
“Queen!” Drustina replied firmly and unequivocally. “I am woman in my head and I will rule with my head.”
“And what of a consort, a king? How would a king feel being second to his wife?”
“How do you feel being Bjorn’s wife?”
Athun let out a belly laugh as he heard her answer.
“Ha, ha, ha! Oh touché Drustina. Truly you have an answer for everything. I bow to your greater wit. So will you ask Elthorn or shall I?”
“Best I approach her, I think woman to woman is the better path. I understand the workings and cycles of a woman's body. You do not. Oh, one other thing. She knows of my duality. Only you and Elthorn and Heingist know of it amongst the Danes in Dane-mark. Best it stays that way then the jarls will not think that if I am connected to this impregnation. Their presumption of my womanhood will keep rumours at bay. It is my intention to make sure Elthorn’s children are truly yours. That will make an honest woman of Elthorn and she holds that honesty above all else.”
Athun drew a deep breath and reluctantly stood thus losing his intimacy with Drustina’s manhood.
“So until tonight then. We meet in my queen’s bed chamber.”
“I will see if Elthorn is disposed to it first. A woman has to be in the right mood, and all importantly in the right part of her cycle. Besides all that, she is nervous because she is still pure. You will have to be taught how to treat a virgin. She will be fearful, doubly fearful with a ménage-a-trois.”
Athun swallowed nervously.
“You are asking much of me. I also am a virgin when it comes to this, this act with a woman. You are asking me to do what I have never done. Take the man’s part.”
“Try and put that part out of your mind. You will be taking the woman’s part with me, if you concentrate that part in your head; I am hoping we’ll get through this. I will go to Elthorn with this immediately if you are agreeable.”
Athun nodded and Drustina saw the worry in his eyes, she smiled encouragement.
“Try not to worry too much. I promise you, Elthorn will be every bit as nervous.”
“Will she respect me after this?”
“I cannot say, though she was very understanding of my duality when I revealed it. That alone has served to broaden her mind.”
“She respects you though,” Athun confessed, “when she saw you with that sword fighting the jarls on the quay, she told me it made her proud to be a woman. She only wished she had had such skill ... skill enough to deter unwanted interest in her teen years. Her status protected her but she knew plenty of incidents with her contemporaries. Girls hurt and damaged by unwanted advances. Stupid jarls and chiefs thinking it was their right as chiefs to take what they thought was theirs.”
“Oh I’ve seen plenty of that Athun. Truly I have been thankful for my sword on many an occasion. I am hoping that with the return of the King's peace, such incidents will be much reduced. Now I must be gone and speak withElthorn. Can you explain to Bjorn?”
“I’ll have to; as you said; affairs of state. If we are to have a lasting peace, this is as good a way forward as any.”
Drustina smiled encouragement.
“Good man. We’ll make a king of you yet ... and a father.” She grinned disarmingly.
Athun smiled and replied.
“I’d love that; to be a father. That would make me so happy.”
Drustina reached forward, hugged Athun close to her, gently kissed him on the cheek then dressed again and retrieved her trusty dagger before slipping through the door. Athun stood non-plussed staring at the door for several seconds before recovering his composure. Drustina’s kiss had stirred mixed emotions for she had also pressed her hard manhood against Athun’s thigh.
‘God, that was one rare woman ... or was it a man?’ He wondered.
~~ooo000ooo~~
The Angry Mermaid 60
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 60.
Character List.
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twins grandfather.
Giana... The twins grandmother
Caderyn... The twins father.
Herenoie... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
The Angry mermaid 60.
Further down the royal corridor Drustina found Elthorn chatting with her ladies in waiting and busy with some embroidery. After identifying herself to the guards, she removed her dagger for it was no secret now amongst the palace guards and she accepted Elthorn’s invitation to enter.
“So what brings you here my dear Drustina?”
“Affairs of state my lady, might I ask for some privacy?”
Elthorn’s eyes widened as she grasped the portent of Drustina’s return and she shooed her ladies in waiting away. Once the apartment was empty and the door to the corridor securely locked. Drustina nodded towards the bedroom and the window set opposite and away from the bed-chamber door. It was the farthest point from any likelihood of eavesdropping ears. She spoke almost in whispers as she laid out her ideas. Elthorn listened avidly and stared thoughtfully into Drustina’s pleading eyes.
“You are asking me to share my bed with Athun and you?”
“I’m afraid so your majesty. It is the only way he functions and at least you’ll have the child you deserve by him.”
“Well that bit is true, I do want his child if only to fulfil my motherly dreams as well as ensure succession.”
Drustina was pleased and relieved that Elthorn was at least not completely against the plan. She pressed her case.
“He is as fearful as you dear Elthorn. He is frightened that he might not be able to function even with my help. You would at least be equals on that score, virgins both and fearful.”
“But you are no virgin; you are well experienced and well tested. Why should I not just go with you and at least have an experienced lover in my bed?”
“I believe we should do our damndest to create a legitimate heir. For your sake and Athun’s. The less doubt, the more legitimacy, the safer for you both and the whole kingdom. Let us at least try my plan.”
Elthorn frowned and stared thoughtfully out of the window before slowly nodding.
“I suppose it will have to be, or something very like it. At least we will have a referee in the bed. Somebody to protect me from a rape.”
Drustina knew exactly what Elthorn meant. Young bucks and inexperienced lovers often let their urges run away causing their partners great pain. Athun was not a young buck but he was certainly inexperienced. Elthorn turned and took Drustina’s hand.
“You will protect me won’t you?”
Drustina replied softly.
“He’s not an animal Elly; he’s as frightened of hurting you as you are of being hurt. I will do my damndest to see nobody gets hurt.”
Elthorn stood and kissed Drustina full on the lips. It was not a passionate ‘spit-swapper’ but it indicated Elthorn’s relief and agreement.
“Thank you Dru, and thank you for giving me a shortened nickname. Nobody has dared to do that since I was crowned queen. Has Athun indicated when this plan is to start?”
“He leaves that to you. Your lady’s prerogative. How is your cycle?”
Elthorn smiled. She knew at least that Drustina knew fully of these things.
'At least the third one in her bed would have a woman’s understanding, a woman’s sensitivity, and a woman’s care.'
Fortunately Elthorn had just ended her menses and was about to enter her fertile cycle. She smiled and hugged Drustina.
“Now is as good a time as any. In a few days I’ll be fertile.”
“Tomorrow it is then your majesty. I will give him a bit of practice tonight, see what turns him on and gets him to function. Bjorn tells me he is very vigorous if the stimulation is right and he’s taken as a female.”
Elthorn grinned and blushed slightly.
“Please can it be tonight. You have no idea how I have longed for this night.”
“I’m afraid not my lady, I have to check that he’s as Bjorn tells. I’d better go and give him some instruction.” Drustina grinned back. “Draw off some of that unfettered energy that young bucks are want to abuse.”
Elthorn let out a squeak of amusement and stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to stifle her belly laugh.
“Well if anybody can tame a young buck I’m sure it will be you. Don’t forget to take your sword, you never know.”
“Oh I have a more persuasive weapon than that your majesty. One that he’ll savour as much as I hope you’ll savour his.”
Elthorn let out a shriek of laughter that set the guard a banging on her door.
“Are you alright your majesty? Let me in please!”
Drustina flung the doors open to reassure the guard as he found Elthorn doubled up with laughter and totally unharmed. He stared into Drustina’s eyes and sighed with relief.
“I’m sorry your majesties, but I thought ...”
“Have no fear soldier.” Drustina reassured him. ”Queen Elthorn is as safe in my hands as yours. Methinks her majesty might like a drop of wine to ease her laughter. Best you fetch the ladies in waiting, they can attend to her.”
~~ooo000ooo~~
With these words Drustina made her excuses and left to spend some precious time with her children and older sister Tara who had accepted Athun’s invitation to stay at the palace. She met them at the quayside along with Sister Catherine and many of the other ex-nuns who now enjoyed marital status with Drustina’s soldiers. As she hugged her children and savoured Tara’s sisterly embrace, it was a relief for Drustina to briefly escape the political and diplomatic pressures of the Danish court.
That evening they savoured the warm summer sun as they ambled about Cuben-havn and exchanged pleasantries with the good citizens and her own visiting soldiers. As they took their ease at an inn, Tara turned to her younger sibling.
“This is how it should always be Dru. Just look at the people enjoying themselves again.” Drustina smiled a little sadly.
“Well make the most of it sis as soon as the queen is with child, we’ll be heading back to Lleyn.”
Tara smiled and stepped out two fingers around an imaginary island.
“By way of Jutland, Saxony, Friesland, Neustria, Frankia, to name but a few.”
Drustina shrugged philosophically as she added.
“Britain, Wessex, Dumnoniia, Cymru and whatever. We’ve come this far.”
Tara wagged her head slowly.
“But you’ve still got a hell of a long way to go.”
“Just savour your wine and be thankful you’re a guest of the palace tonight. We’ll worry about those places when we get to them.”
That evening, Drustina approached Athun tactfully and they retired to his private chamber. Drustina explained at length what her plan was and Athun frowned with uncertainty. Gently she took him to the day cot where Athun sometimes took naps and she slowly excited herself to stimulate her masculinity. Athun stared at it and licked his lips with nervous expectation. The organ stiffening before his eyes was proving a very attractive invitation and he gently lay on his side inviting Drustina to take him.
“Is that what best excites you?” She whispered.
“Yes,” he croaked as lust cracked his voice, “take me, take me now.”
Drustina whispered softly and also addressed Athun as a woman.
“Gently my lady; slowly does it. I do not take my conquests in some fit of brutal insensitive passion.”
Athun sighed contentedly with the reference to his being considered a lady and he pressed his buttocks harder against Drustina’s maleness, inviting her ... no pleading with his body to satisfy his need. Drustina pressed her exploring penis gently into the receptive sphincter and reached around to feel if Athun was responding. To her delight and relief, he was. She had expected him to do so, but nevertheless, it was a relief when he functioned exactly as she had hoped. As Drustina eased her stiffness into Athuns relaxing body, she felt Athun stiffen and begin to hump backwards against her.
‘So far, so good.’ She mused.
“Gently, little lady,” Drustina whispered in Athun’s ear. “While you might be seizing your chances at some selfish delight, I am trying to cast in you a sense of duty and patience. Tomorrow, an even sweeter partner will be trying to share your delights so you must learn to temper your urges and slow your needs. Now stay like this awhile. Make pretence of girlish habit and let your joy come slowly.”`
Athun listened and, despite the urgent demands of his libido he tried to slow his tempo and custom his needs. As Athun slowed and sighed with exquisite frustration, Drustina gently squeezed Athun’s organ in just the way that the educated scabbard of an oriental concubine might play. Athun let out a surprised squeak and promptly exploded with enhanced vigour whilst humping as furiously as any satyr. Drustina murmured encouragement and applause.
“Well done my maid. Behave as such tomorrow with your lady and I’ll wager a shilling to crown you’ll have your consort with child by month’s end.”
Athun giggled with relieved delight as he realised his fantasy had not been entirely based upon his usual submission as a woman. In his head, his feelings had on that occasion, somehow become some vague neutral emotion that mostly had responded to Drustina’s transcendent encouragement. Athun felt his libido slow down even as he imagined some warm inviting flesh around his girl-cock.
'What feelings were these?' He asked himself as he felt Drustina’s seed explode inside his body.
Thus entwined they fell asleep and it was Bjorn who found his lover the king still spooned into the embrace of the strange, warrior queen the following morning.
He went to draw his sword as a fit of lover’s jealousy overtook him but Drustina was alert and armed. Bjorn had not noticed Drustina’s sword laid across the top of the bed under the scattered pillows. Before Bjorn’s sword had left its scabbard or his howl of jealousy had escaped his throat, a razor sharp, Toledo point was delivered unerringly to his Adam’s apple.
“Don’t be hasty captain,” Drustina spoke softly, “this may not appear so, but it is all in the line of duty. Put aside your sword before any blood gets spilt ... your blood.”
As the sword pricked his Adam’s apple and stayed there, Bjorn realised he had met his fencing match. He swallowed nervously and backed away in silence. Drustina deftly tugged her breech cloth and britches up to her waist to hide her duality from Bjorn. Next she spoke slowly and softly as she changed her attitude and explained in a soft feminine voice that charmed Bjorn and soothed Athun.
“Listen my brothers in loneliness. I, like you, know what it is to suffer the hurt and danger that goes with our natures. I too have endured the persecution that you do. What I am trying to do, here in your kingdom, is to enshrine your right to live ... and live as you wish to live. To this end I must legalise Athun’s position as king and cement it firmly within the realm of agreement, treaty and law. This can only be done if he begets a child by Elthorn if we are to mollify and subdue the jarls.
Which would you prefer; ... to ensure your own and your gay brother’s safety in this realm by setting Athun firmly on his throne once and for all, ... or will you see chaos and oppression return, knowing that such oppression will invariably find an outlet in the persecution of such as you and your brothers to name but one group?”
Athun and Bjorn knew well of the oppression that Drustina alluded to and they had wit enough to see the need for a seeming sacrifice in the short term. Drustina recognised Bjorn’s torment and went on to explain further.
“Captain of the Guard. Bjorn, I do not seek to steal your partner ... your lover. I seek only security for all, peace for all, hope for all. Surely you’ll grant that Athun must get his queen with child. It is easy to sacrifice one’s life for your country, once you’ve done so there is no more to lose and you enter the realms of Valhalla with honour writ oe'r your name. It is much harder and braver to sacrifice your ownership of something you hold dear, if only in the short term temporary expediency to make your future life on earth a happier one. Bear with me for these next few months until Elthorn has her child and sense of fulfilment.
Ere after that and when the legitimacy of her first born child is put beyond doubt, then you both may lie with her if she wants a second. The ways and means will be open to you. With the coming of the first child comes my going. Bjorn, make this one sacrifice for all Danes and Dane-mark.”
Bjorn hesitated but for a moment as his sharp mind saw the logic of Drustina’s plan. He nodded thoughtfully and stepped back as Drustina lowered her deadly blade. Drustina sighed a silent sigh of relief. ‘Sense had prevailed over passion and honour,’
Athun called for breakfast and by the time food was delivered, they were presentable and respectable. As they ate Bjorn questioned Drustina after she had explained the plan.
“Does Elthorn truly accept your premise to share her bed with both Athun and you?”
Drustina answered with a forcible.
“Yes! She wants children, she wants peace, and she wants to keep her crown. As an honest and blameless queen, those are her absolute rights. Just as you demand rights to indulge your needs so does she ... and her needs are motherhood and happiness ... I should say, more correctly, happiness and motherhood.”
Bjorn nodded slowly and conceded Drustina’s argument. ‘Everybody had rights.’
Drustina rose wearily and left to visit her children in Queen Elthorn’s apartments. She found Elthorn playing enthusiastically with them and Tara as they played a children’s game of hide-and-seek. When Drustina appeared the children stopped jumping and squealing and promptly behaved themselves. Their sudden change in behaviour saddened Drustina slightly.
‘Am I that much of an ogre to them?’ She asked herself.
Then she reflected, she hardly knew her own children and they hardly knew her except via other people’s reports of her battles and victories.
“Yes,” she answered her own question. “ I suppose I must seem like some far-off Warrior Ice Queen to them. In future, I must spend more time with them. At present they think more of Tara as their mother than me.”
She widened her smile and opened her arms to invite them in but it saddened her to realise that although they came to her, it was with reservation and trepidation; not the natural spontaneity and abandon of children who wholeheartedly loved their mother. No squeals of delight no flinging themselves into her arms. It hurt Drustina worse than any of the many wounds she had endured. She joined in the game of hide-and-seek and the children mellowed fractionally but Drustina sensed that children saw through her seemingly artificial love.
The realisation that she had a long row to hoe in earning her children’s natural adoration and affection planted in her an ever stronger desire and determination to get back to her homeland and somehow win back her family’s lands.
Fortunately, her boundless energy stemming from her warrior queen’s necessity for fitness, enabled her to play boisterously with her children until they were worn out. In the afternoon she took them out hunting on horseback and they returned with but a single deer. Later she joined Tara in putting the twins to bed while Elthorn caught Drustina’s understanding eye and prepared to go to her bed. The understanding was that Drustina would accompany Athun to Elthorn’s bed and gently facilitate a successful union. After Elthorn had departed and the children were asleep from exhaustion, Tara drew her younger sister/brother aside.
“Do you think Athun will ever get her with child?”
Drustina shrugged feigning disinterest.
“I dunno. All I know is that Dane-mark’s fate depends on it. If he doesn’t, there will be civil war in this land.”
Tara frowned and peered into Drustina’s non-committal gaze.
“Couldn’t you do something. I know you’ve got a functioning cock and nobody knows that in Dane-mark. You could visit Elthorn as a woman and nobody would be any the wiser if you slept with her.”
Drustina frowned. Tara was not stupid for she had learned about Drustina’s successful fatherhoods in the lands of the Great Nile Rivers; Egypt and Nubia. She stood up abruptly and ‘remembered’ some urgent unfinished business with Heingist leaving Tara to sleep with the children.
Minutes later she was knocking on Athuns bed-chamber door. Bjorn answered it and frowned slightly as she entered. Drustina recognised his distaste for the plan and she re-iterated that they had little option but to get moving on the fatherhood issues. Athun emerged from his inner chamber dressed for all the world like a white knight in Shining armour. Drustina grinned.
“You’re trying to get her with child Athun not fulfil her fantasies.”
Athun pouted slightly.
“Why not? She once told me it was one of her fantasies to be rescued by a warrior and taken to some magical kingdom. Anyway, would it not be better if you dressed as a maid preparing for the bed-chamber? If people see you as a maid they won’t get two and two to be five.”
Drustina looked down and realised Athun was right. It would be much better if she was perceived as a maid entering Elthorn’s chamber. She nodded and excused herself to return half an hour later in a heavy brocade gown that completely hid her warrior armour beneath. Athun was secretly pleased that she had surreptitiously dressed as a warrior thus addressing his secret need to feel he was sleeping with a man. Then he ruefully told himself.
‘Dammit! She IS a man, despite those tits and curves; she’s got a cock!’
Athun smiled again for Drustina had also hastily bathed. Her hair was wet but let down to fall over her shoulders and down to her waist. Athun could not resist stroking it and running it through his fingers.
“Why do maids have such thick lustrous hair while we men have such coarse strands?”
Drustina made play to blush and behave coquettishly though she was secretly delighted with Athun’s compliment, her hair was he crowning glory and she held it dear. Drustina picked her next words thoughtfully.
“Why I know not kind lady, your compliments are sweet. Come shall we go to your bride.”
Athun grinned, it made him feel good to be called a lady but still he offered his arm for appearance’s sake and invited Drustina to take his arm. Thus together, they stepped the short walk along the passage to Elthorn’s chambers.
~~oo000oo~~
In this Chapter, Drustina finally enables the Gay King Athun to fulfill his kingly duty towards Elthorn his queen. After enabling the essential act of consumation the King beseeches Drustina to stay at least until an infant is born of his union with the queen.
The Angry Mermaid 61
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 61.
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twins grandfather.
Giana... The twins grandmother
Caderyn... The twins father.
Herenoie... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst... Drustina’s twin children.
The Angry Mermaid 61
Athun and Drustina arrived somewhat unexpectedly then Athun commanded the ladies to leave the chamber but guard the door. The ladies-in-waiting looked slightly surprised then scuttled away for Athun was after all, the king and Queen Elthorn’s husband. He was simply exercising his matrimonial rights and duties, as agreed with the jarls. Elthorn looked up expectantly and her gaze widened with delight as she saw her king dressed exactly as her fantasy. She studied the man who stood before her
‘He wasn’t an ugly man or an effeminate man; in fact he was quite a tall slender and attractive man if not for his unfortunate nature.’
She smiled and stood to meet him then she studied Drustina dressed in a very effeminate silk and damask gown.
“Goodness maid, you can be quite attractive when you choose. I love your hair, it is stunning! I had no idea it was so long and lustrous. You should let it down more often, I had no idea!"
Drustina frowned slightly then cast off her gown to reveal her best fighting jerkin, britches and the small armour panels that shimmered with a dull sheen that demonstrated their utility and long use. As Elthorn studied the outfit that accentuated Drustina’s curves yet still warned of martial power, Drustina explained.
“Now we three are alone, try to treat me as though I am a boy. Athun will find it easier that way. I had to dress this way so that guards and the ladies-in-waiting saw a maid accompanying His Majesty to your chamber.”
Elthorn immediately ‘got the message’ and promptly changed tack.
“Why Dru you are a cheeky scamp! Get into bed immediately wet hair or not!”
Drustina clambered onto the bed and poised as any mischievous page-boy might, while Elthorn set about disrobing her husband. Soon the trio were abed and cautiously exploring activity that best stimulated Athun’s needs and nature. Athun lay passive and nervous at first for Elthorn’s feminine beauty did little to ignite his passions. It was not until he felt Drustina’s familiar hardness and the muscle in her slender but powerful thighs that he was able to fantasise about taking the maid’s part. He let out a soft whimper of submission and eagerly adjusted his body to enable Drustina easier access. Finally he croaked huskily.
“Take me, take me and use me.”
Drustina carefully obliged and Athun tensed receptively as he felt the powerful invader slowly drive its way into his receptive body. He gave a squeak of excitement as Drustina’s maleness drove against his prostate gland causing his own member to stiffen. Elthorn at last found a useable hardness growing from Athun’s loins and she made pretence of ‘taking’ Athun and using him as any possessive lover would. Her words were chosen to reinforce the idea in Athun’s head that he was being ‘used’, being ‘taken’, being ‘served’ when all the time she was thrusting her body to envelope Athun’s prostate induced hardness.
Elthorn had previously destroyed her own virginity to remove the slightest chance of blood appearing’ for neither she nor Drustina knew how Athun might react to finding a virgin’s blood upon his penis. Instead, Elthorn found herself being unexpectedly excited by the novelty of at last finding her husband’s organ inside her and useable. By prearrangement, she tapped Drustina’s wrist three times to get her to slow down and although Athun protested meekly, Drustina responded to Elthorn’s demand.
‘After all’, Drustina mused, ‘Elthorn was also entitled to satisfaction on this her first night with a man.’
Thus Elthorn was able to lodge Athun’s hardness exactly where she felt it best and once she was approaching her satisfaction she clenched involuntarily on Drustina’s wrist. This signal prompted Drustina to resume action. Within minutes, Athun responded by exploding vigorously and Elthorn squeaked with surprised delight as she felt his seed squirt forcefully against her cervix. This sensation triggered a response in Elthorn and although she did not climax exactly in synchronisation with Athun’s orgasm, she at least was able to savour a satisfaction that even the most ardent lovers rarely achieved on their wedding night.
As Elthorn slowly descended from her ‘high’ she sighed and hugged her king tight. To her surprise she tasted salty tears on his cheek and this invoked a motherly feeling towards the man in her bed.
“That was wonderful my king,” she whispered. “Let us savour this special night and celebrate our success.”
“Yes my lady, but are you with child?”
“I cannot tell. We will have to repeat this night every night until my season comes around. But at least we have found a way.”
Thus they remained coupled for a few more minutes and then Drustina felt her own juices boiling in her loins. Her sudden frenzy of action brought both Athun and Elthorn to their senses. They held their breaths as Drustina pounded violently then fell quiet.
“I am done!” She gasped as Elthorn and Athun exchanged amused grins. Then finally, Drustina separated and almost by default, Athun’s maleness softened and Elthorn was denied further pleasure.
“We did it!” Athun whispered gratefully, “Thanks to you my soldier queen.”
Those were the last coherent words as the trio cuddled together to a chorus of sighs and giggles before sleep overtook them.
~~ooo000ooo~~
As dawn broke Drustina’s libido stirred almost immediately after she awoke. She felt the hard flanks of a man spooned into her belly and for a moment she was disorientated before she remembered what the situation was. She always stirred early unless some exhaustion had driven her to bed so this was a normal waking ... except for the long lean flanks presented to her morning glory. Drustina grinned as she recalled the arrangements then gently nudged with her manhood. There was a soft grunt from the recipient of her attentions before the owner of the flanks responded seductively by pressing backwards against Drustina’s invader.
Athun sighed contentedly as he felt that invasion lodge against his prostrate only to trigger off the almost automatic reaction. Drustina reached curiously around Athun’s slender waist and ascertained Athun’s preparedness for another call of duty. With this precondition arrived at, Drustina stretched over and gently tickled the still sleeping Elthorn’s nipples. She stirred more with surprise than pleasure and like Drustina she was momentarily disorientated. She drew breath to call for the guard but Drustina had already anticipated her confusion and gently placed her hand over Elthorn’s lips.
“Hush dear sister!” Drustina called, “You’ll spoil the fun and the function if you demand the guard right now. This is a legal union between you and your husband. Avail yourself of another opportunity before your ladies-in-waiting arrive.”
By now Elthorn was fully awake and having let Drustina’s hand guide hers to Athun’s promise, she immediately squeaked with pleasure and took full advantage. Within minutes another load of Athun’s seed was about its natural and lawful occasion on its way to Elthorn’s womb.”
Eventually Elthorn finally lay satiated beside her husband while Drustina stirred and visited the garderobe. The noises in the bed-chamber had alerted the ever vigilant ladies-in-waiting and the whispering in the passageway presaged their entry. Elthorn called them in and their faces widened into knowing smiles when the recognised the other occupant of Elthorn’s bed ... the king himself no less. Then Drustina emerged from the garderobe in only her breech-cloth and demanded water to wash.
The ladies in waiting looked askance but Drustina simply sat with her back to everybody including the royal pair and borrowed one of Elthorn’s combs. The king was about censure her for her impertinence but a deafening silence took control as Drustina’s hair fell to her waist in a single, thick, glossy cascade of pale gold. Even the Danes with their propensity for pale yellow hair were impressed. Several of the maids stepped forward to offer their services more to touch the hair than be of some utility so Drustina allowed them to assist. Her idea was to further reinforce their perceptions of her as a woman and to this end her efforts worked.
The texture of her hair soon evoked compliments as the ladies ran admiring fingers and combs through it.
Athun watched and found himself smiling as he hugged Elthorn’s shoulders. She turned to him and whispered.
“I’ll have to find out Drustina’s secret of that hair. It’s just miraculous.”
Athun nodded appreciatively and motioned for Elthorn to get out of bed and go across the chamber to check Drustina’s hair out. Elthorn needed no extra prompting and modestly slipped on a robe before running her own fingers through the hair.
“Just how d’you do it Dru? I mean most of the time that hair is set up like a horse’s tail. I never realised it was that long or that lustrous.”
Drustina turned from the polished copper mirror and smiled.
“Oriental oils your majesty. When my sister Tara arrived at the palace the other day she brought some from her own personal stock. She learned how to mix it in Constantinople when we were there. I didn’t realise it was unknown in these parts; I rarely use it myself except for very special occasions. That’s why I didn’t know. D’you want some?”
Elthorn shook her head in disbelief at Drustina’s seeming naivety.
“Of course I want some! Good God girl! Every woman in the kingdom would want for such an oil.”
Drustina wagged her head in disbelief and turned to Athun who was sat up in the bed watching the antics of the women. Athun smiled and remarked.
“If it pleases the women Drustina, I will grant your sister a royal patent to protect her secrets so she may benefit from her knowledge. Anything to please the girls.”
Elthorn smiled a smile that enhanced her beauty and skipped joyfully across the chamber to fling herself joyously on her husband and kiss him. Athun sat bemused then made a fine pretence of kissing her back for the benefit of the ladies-in-waiting. As they stared at the seeming 'conversion' of their king to apparent heterosexuality, Drustina took the opportunity to slip her britches on and choose a new blouse that served more to enhance her breasts than hide them. Finally, once dressed, she stepped out of the chamber to collect her weapons from the apartments she now shared with Tara and her twins since Queen Elthorn had deemed that Drustina's relatives be accorded the correct noble status. When Drustina appeared, Tara looked up and grinned as she was combing her niece’s hair.
“Was it a successful night sis?”
Drustina grinned and nodded enigmatically. Tara immediately recognised the positive message and turned Amethyst off her knee. Drustina held out her arms and the child eagerly approached to be picked up and hugged. The guiless acceptance of Drustina’s embrace sent a warm feeling through Drustina’s breast.
‘Where the children beginning to accept her at last?’ She wondered.
She turned to smile at Morgan her little son and motioned for him to approach. He was a little more circumspect but eventually accepted her embrace.
As she held the children in her arms Drustina explained to Tara.
“Queen Elthorn asks if you would share some of your special hair oil with her.”
Tara frowned slightly.
“I’ll not reveal its secret. She must accept that.”
“The king Athun offers to grant you a patent royal to protect your secret.”
“That means I would have to reveal the contents for I do not get all the ingredients in Dane-mark.”
“How d’you feel about it?”
“Who would protect my secrets? I wish to accompany you back to Britannia.”
“I cannot answer that Sis. You would have to make arrangements with the king. He’s invited us to share his breakfast table. Come on; let’s get these two little beauties dressed fit for a king.”
So saying, Drustina returned the twins to Tara’s dressing table and took her weapons from behind the door. Morgan showed immediate interest in the weapons so Drustina unsheathed her sword and let him hold it.
“It’s sharp young man and it’s deadly. You will note it’s lighter than Heingist’s mighty blade, that’s because I’m a queen and a woman’s strength is less than a man’s. But I make up for that with skill and speed.”
Morgan’s grin widened hugely as he managed to raise the sword with both hands above his head. He had never been able to lift Heingist's or Carl’s or Eric’s swords for theirs were massive broad swords. Then he spoke proudly.
“Yes. Heingist told me, all the men worship you and he said you are the best sword’s-woman in the entire world. Can I have your sword after you are dead?”
Drustina let out a gale of laughter as she explained.
“A warrior’s sword is usually buried with him, but I might make an exception for you my son because I’m a warrior queen ... a woman.”
With this promise extracted, Morgan dressed quickly and the four stepped out to the dining hall. Athun and Elthorn were already seated together at the head of the wide table and Bjorn had taken his favoured seat at Athun’s right hand. Athun invited Drustina to be seated and she went to sit next down the table beside Elthorn. This plainly indicated that Drustina counted herself amongst the ladies while Tara sat beside her and Amethyst sat next. Morgan sat next to Bjorn on the men’s side. Drustina smiled and suggested that Morgan leave a space between him and Bjorn to allow a high-ranking courtier or chamberlain to occupy what would have been his rightful place. Athun corrected her.
“Dear lady, you are a queen and an honoured guest in this palace. That makes your children prince and princess. Let them sit where they are. Until my Queen is with child, there are no other children higher than your own royal pair. Now everybody eat.”
Morgan grinned hugely at his seeming promotion and Bjorn wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder to encourage him. Soon the conversation was animated as many issues were discussed. Including Drustina’s future plans. Athun was mildly disappointed that Drustina had hopes of departing before the winter gales returned.
“I was hoping you would be here for the birth of our child. You could represent the East wind at the bathing for you came from the east to us.”
“But I was born in the west and I dearly wish to regain my lands. Every year the pirates endure there, makes it a harder battle to dig them out.”
“Then represent the West wind, the warm wind, for you have also brought warmth to a cold place.”
Drustina frowned. The last thing she wanted was to be detained for another year just to attend the birth of a royal baby. She had a task to complete, a mission to accomplish, a vow to fulfil.
‘Lleyn; beloved Lleyn, would she ever see her beloved homeland again, would she ever attend at her ancestor’s graves? Right the wrongs done to her family?’
“My lord, I beseech you, I wish to return to my homeland and make good the damages done to my family. I have no further use here, no further interest after you have put your bride with child.”
“Oh but my dear Warrior Queen, that is where you are mistaken. I do not trust the jarls to stick to their bargain. There are those amongst them who still revile my kind, those who would do anything to rid the kingdom of its rightful king. Until my child is born they will push ever harder to be rid of me just for what I am. Only you and your loyal band stand between them and their ambition.”
“So how will that change after Elthorn bears her child?”
“The legitimate line is then assured and fixed. They will not commit infanticide upon a healthy child, boy or girl. The common people will not stand for that, they only suffer me because the jarl’s rule was so oppressive. If the jarls had not been so greedy, grasping everything unto their own, the people might have accepted their condemnation of me. The jarls overstepped the mark by raising their own entitlement to their feudal taxes and trying to impose the same order of tax on the free towns. My acceptance still hangs by a thread. Your attendance until the line of succession is entrenched would certainly be a welcome force for stability and legitimacy. I would beseech you to stay and make it worth your while. If you are to raise an army to drive the pirates from your homeland, you’ll need gold and silver. My kingdom is a rich country.”
Drustina replied.
“Athun, I don’t pay my men; I never have. They follow me because they know if and when we get to Saxony, and Friesland and Frankia and Gaul, they will be free to leave our happy band and make their ways to their homes. By the time I get back to Britannia I’ll be pretty much on my own and with it all to do.”
“What of your lieutenants, Carl, Eric, Urthos and our own Heingist?”
“I’ll just have to wait and see. The way forward is not clear.”
“If I can cement my reign then I can do much more for you. There are Danish chiefs who live in Danelaw and yet still owe allegiance to me. Technically, I am their king, at least until they form a nation for themselves and even then ...”
Drustina expressed her doubts.
“But those chieftains are almost as bad as the Viking pirates who came from Norse lands.”
Athun smiled.
“There’s not much love lost between them and the Vikings. In the Vikings, you and Danelaw have a common enemy You have it in your nature to win them over; I have seen you with your own men and even my own Palace guards. They would follow you to the ends of the earth.”
“Drustina snorted and shrugged.
“Huh! But not it seems to Britannia, a mere four or five days sailing, fifteen to my own land on the Celtic sea. They are looking to return to their homelands.”
“If they wait a year until my reign is ensured, I can pay them retainers for that year. They will have money to return home with. That might persuade them to go further with you and perhaps increase their purses.”
“A straight bribe then,” she observed.
Drustina felt the idea distasteful but saw the merit.
‘She would have money, her men would have money and some of them would be tempted to go further with her; even as far as the Celtic Sea if there was more gold to be earned. Plus of course, her reputation would be greatly enhanced if her stay did ensure Athun’s reign and she indirectly brought peace and stability to Dane-mark. Perhaps yet more men might come to her banner if they learned of her successes in Dane-mark. First however, she had to succeed.’
She decided to call a meeting of her men, over two hundred of them in the great hall.
~~ooo000ooo~~
Drustina finally manages to resolve the succession issues in Dane-mark and after waiting for Elthorn to deliver her prince, Drustina finally sets off for her beloved Lleyn, the remote peninsular land where she was born.
The Angry Mermaid 62.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 62.
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twins grandfather.
Giana... The twins grandmother
Caderyn... The twins father.
Herenoie... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen ... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala ... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa ... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. .. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. .. Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia ... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam ... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk ... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos ... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda ... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.. Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.. The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.. Drustina’s twin children.
The Angry Mermaid 62.
That afternoon, with Athun’s permission, Drustina’s followers started to gather in the great hall. Before the jarls got wind of the meeting and could organise spies, Drustina had addressed her men and briefly advised them of the king’s offer to pay them if they remained to ensure his reign until Elthorn bore a child. Finally she advised her men that the jarl’s men might take action if they learned of the meeting so she urged them to come to a quick decision.
She was both gratified and slightly surprised that they unanimously decided to stay another year. The decision took the meeting less than a few minutes to be decided and Drustina felt compelled to sound her men out. The collective answer was gratifying and brought Drustina considerable comfort.
The vast majority had been away from their homes for upwards of five years and they had all left home as single men to seek their fortunes. Many of them had made substantial fortunes already; certainly enough to win them land and a wife when they returned to their various homes. Others already had won themselves excellent wives by marrying Sister Catherine’s pirate nuns. These were mainly educated youngish women who had been forced to become nuns against their wills. The freed women had seen Drustina’s companions as suitable husbands and the vice-versa. Lots of the nuns were pretty and Drustina’s men had consequently snapped them up at the first opportunities. Mutual consent was the only condition Drustina had enforced on both nuns and soldiers when they elected to marry. The vote came back to stay for the year especially when the money was mentioned. At one level, Drustina was pleased to advise Athun of her availability but on another level, she had to be reconciled to delaying her ambitions for yet another year.
Thus the Danish court settled down to a regular rhythm until, after three months, Elthorn felt the quickening in her womb and could confirm with certainty what she more or less already knew. Life had sprung within her.
With the deed completed, Drustina’s main duty of stimulating Athun to virility had finished. She had until the next spring to kick her heels around Dane-mark. To alleviate her boredom she assisted in the building of several warships for Athun’s fleet whilst reserving one to her own purposes. She included a couple of The Angry Mermaid’s design features that made them faster than other Scandinavian ships but still not as fast as the ‘Mermaid’. The main reason being that Welsh Oak was much tougher and lighter, harder and more durable than Scandinavian pine thus the ‘Mermaid’ would always be lighter and faster than a pinewood ship of identical construction. Nevertheless, Athun was pleased with his new, faster ships. Having such fine additions to his fleet put him at a considerable advantage to the jarls. They would serve to extend his authority better between the many islands of Dane-mark’s archipelago.
Thus was Drustina occupied for the months of Elthorn’s pregnancy and she was pleased when Elthorn produced a fine lusty boy. Now the succession was assured Drustina could only kick her heels until the sailing season retuned and return it eventually did.
In the April of her twenty-fifth year, Drustina bid farewell to Dane-mark that now enjoyed a decent peace and a legitimate government. The jarls accepted Athun’s kingship unreservedly because the newborn prince bore a remarkable likeness. Everybody was forced to agree or concede that the baby’s parentage could not be denied. Furthermore the baby’s lineage and inheritance had been assured by Drustina’s attendance at the ceremonial bathing. As a recognised warrior queen, Drustina’s rank and fame lent extra credence to the baby’s status. Drustina was also called upon to choose the baby’s name but she cleverly circumvented any resentment by secretly asking Elthorn what name she preferred. Elthorn gave the name Asvaard and so it was.
‘What is a baby’s name to me’, she asked herself while Elthorn thanked her profusely; for it was an old distaff family name. ‘Another lesson in diplomacy’ Drustina mused.
A week later Drustina’s flotilla of six ships set sail in the company of a Danish trading fleet making course for the Saxon and Friesian lands before finally visiting Gaul and then Britannia. With opportunist pirates always threatening from the northern fiords, the traders were glad of Drustina’s protection.
Two weeks later after rounding the Jutland and sailing south, the fleet arrived in Frisian lands. There, amidst much regret, the majority of the Saxons prepared to bid Drustina farewell as they returned to their homelands.
As their fleet stood off the estuary of the great river Rhine, Eric agreed to lead a tentative feeler group of three ships. In those unstable times few could be certain if the Friesians were friendly with the Franks and although Drustina’s men believed the great estuary to belong to the Friesians, there had been rumours that there was strife between the Frisians and the Franks. After probing carefully amidst the many channels Eric’s scouts found a manmade, fortified mound that seemed to have been abandoned only that hour. The hearths in the humble grass and mud huts were still warm and in one hut, still smoking. As his shore-side scouts returned they described their find to Eric. He mused to his lieutenants.
“The Franks are tended build small hills in order to fortify their settlements. Did you bring anything back.”
“No, nothing,” the chief scout replied, “We thought it best to demonstrate that we were not a plundering party. We left everything as we found it. Whatever happened did so less than a few hours ago and they left with little or no preparation.”
“And you met with no hostility?”
“No. The place was deserted.”
Eric sighed as he wondered to himself, ‘What would Drustina do?’
After further musing he decided to return to the mound for it was the first evidence of settlement he had encountered. What bothered him was that he and Drustina thought they were approaching Frisian lands and the Frisians had been traditional friends with the Saxons. The settlement his scouts had described seemed more Frankish and there were always uncertainties between Franks and Frisians. Eric made his decision.
“We’ll leave one third of the men to man the three ships while the rest of us go back and investigate the settlement. We’re a well armed band so we’ll be able to protect ourselves. Let’s move quickly but silently. You all know the drill men.”
Eric’s group were all intimately acquainted with each other’s abilities and it was but a moment to decide the manning. Within two minutes, Eric and his chosen men were scurrying secretively through the swampy estuary to arrive silently at the outskirts of the mound in less than an hour. They paused to regroup themselves whilst Eric and his lieutenant Vorin checked out the settlement. As they crouched amongst the reeds they were shocked to see a coffle of slaves being led towards them by a band of heavily armed men. Eric’s jaw dropped as he confirmed in whispers with Vorin.
“They’re bloody Norsemen! They’re returning from a raid. Those captives are probably the Frankish people who live on that mound. They look like they’re all women and children!”
“No, look there are some others, some of those are dressed like Frisians; ... our people!” His lieutenant added.
Eric double checked and confirmed his lieutenant’s opinion.
“Well I’m a Saxon and we’ve always been friends with the Frisians. I’ve no time for Viking Norsemen so I think we should rescue those prisoners.”
Vorin nodded vigorously and Eric immediately started to organise an ambush.
“Come on, let’s get back to the rest of our men, we can lay an ambush. Look at the state on those women! Some of them are covered in blood.”
“I suppose the men have been executed.” Vorin added.
“Or died fighting.” Eric surmised. “There’s only one way to find out, come on; back to our troop.”
They slipped away through the reeds whilst leaving one man to follow the coffle.
On reaching the shore-party, Eric despatched a messenger to the ships and the rest returned to a well trodden path through the swamp that they determined was the most likely path the Viking slave coffle would take. Eric’s choice proved right and as they lay silent and deadly amidst a copse of willow and thorn, the Viking coffle approached amidst noisy and raucous celebrations. Eric nodded with silent satisfaction toward Vorin his chief lieutenant who smiled back from his hiding-place amidst the tree roots. The shore party quickly picked up on Eric’s change of posture and a soft rustle of preparation gave no betrayal to the ambush. The men were all experienced warriors. The Ambush would be a walk over.
Without a sound Eric’s men rose like ghosts out of the undergrowth and more than half the Vikings were cut down before they realised they were in a real fight. After a few more clashes of steel the leader realised his band was beaten so he made a desperate play. He grabbed a slave who Erin recognised as some sort of higher ranking woman. She still had a golden bracelet that seemed firmly wrapped around her wrist. All the other women had no jewellery, obviously ripped off by the raiders. Eric concluded this high ranking woman was some sort of hostage or bargaining chip. As he assessed the woman his eyes fell appreciatively on her obvious beauty whilst she stared narrow-eyed at her potential saviour and struggled in the cruel grip of the Viking chief. The Viking snarled.
“Try to touch me and this lady gets it.”
Eric pretended total disinterest in the woman’s fate but in fact he was waiting for Vorin to finish with the last remaining Viking who still wielded a sword. Eric turned his face away as though feigning some sort of consideration about negotiating a solution. The Viking chief misread Eric’s seeming hesitation as fear or cowardice and he roared his contempt.
“Don’t try anything or this lady gets it. I’m warning you, now let me past!
“You’re going nowhere.” Eric challenged as he brandished both his sword and his dagger. “Put down your sword and I might consider giving you a quick, warrior’s death.”
“Damn you! You ...” The Viking squinted at Eric’s unusual apparel and very sophisticated weaponry. “Just what are you, Saxon, Frisian, Frank, Gaul? What the hell are you!?”
“I’m your nemesis, now drop the woman and prepare to fight like a true warrior!”
The Viking’s grip on the woman tightened and he thrust her in front of him as he shoved her forward like a shield. Eric got tired of the confrontation. Glancing over the Viking’s shoulder he saw that Vorin had despatched the remaining raider and he was approaching the Viking chief from behind. It only remained for Eric to take a small step forward with his sword raised. The Viking’s snarl turned to a sneer as his lip curled and he tightened his grip on his prisoner’s arms and shoved her towards Eric’s sword-point.
However he felt forced to stop momentarily as the woman’s breast fetched up against Eric’s sword. Vorin grinned wolfishly as he laid his sword against the Vikings neck and gently slid it forward. The Viking’s sneer faded to a gape of astonishment as he felt the sting of the sharp blade slide easily across the side of his neck and draw a thin stripe of blood. His eyes cast nervously sideways to see the long, silver edge glistened in the afternoon sun and a few droplets of blood trickling down the fluting of the blade. Vorin twisted the blade and it flashed brilliantly. Eric grinned.
“You’re always polishing that blade Vorin.” What are you trying to do, dazzle him?”
As he spoke, Eric nodded imperceptibly. Vorin knew what was needed. He pulled his sword back to cut a second wound and the Viking lurched sideways in an attempt to avoid the blade. This action opened his stomach up and Eric’s sword dipped instantaneously to skewer the Viking in his belly. It was only then that the Viking realised his antagonists meant business and he quickly adjusted his sword to plunge into his hostage. To do this he was forced to raise his arm and that was the opening Eric was looking for. He stepped rapidly forward, reached around the woman who was squeezed between them and drove the dagger upwards into the Viking’s unguarded arm-pit. The man bellowed in pain but the dagger had cut some vital nerves in his shoulder and he was unable to plunge his sword into the woman. The Viking released the woman and desperately clawed at the sword in his paralyzed hand to defend himself.
It was to no avail. Eric glanced at Vorin who coolly slid his blade between the Viking’s ribs and pierced his heart from the rear. The Viking’s angry roar turned to a gargle then a death rattle as the life quickly spilled out. As he fell to his knees, Eric wrapped his arms around the terrified woman wrenched her to safety. He watched the woman’s terror turn to relief and then gratitude as he sheathed his weapons and spoke to Vorin.
“Send a couple of men to tell the ships what’s happened. We’ll ask these people what’s been going on.”
As Vorin set about organising the men Eric beckoned to the terrified noblewoman. She stared at him with the question writ large in her expression.
“Who are you?”
Eric raised a single eyebrow and shrugged then smiled to reassure her.
“I think that’s my question lady.
She swallowed uncertainly then replied.
“I am Lady Dalcimon, Frankish lady and owner of these lands, and ... thank you. Thank you for rescuing us."
Eric glanced sideways at her and ignored her gratitude, what he needed was information so he went straight to the point.
“I thought under Frankish law, only men owned the land.”
“My husband was murdered by these butchers.”
Her remark brought no response from Eric as he continued his own line of inquiry.
“I thought these were Frisian lands.”
“They were; my husband was Frisian.”
“Ah, that explains it. I see there are no male prisoners.”
The lady’s face darkened with despair as she explained.
“Some young boys, that’s all. Our menfolk were all slaughtered.”
Eric nodded as Vorin signalled they were ready to return to their ships. They set off at an easy pace while Eric pumped the lady for information.
“So was it just raiding party then?”
The lady Dalcimon wagged her head uncertainly.
“No it was quite a big force.”
Eric nodded and continued questioning.
“How many where there and do you know where their ships are hidden.
“There ships are in the next inlet and the men of the village reported about eight hundred men. The main body went inland to find more slaves. Your small band will be hard put to fight them all.”
Eric smiled but said nothing. He had learned Drustina’s lessons of secrecy well.
“We’ll see,” he replied.
As they walked to the beach Eric pumped her continually for information until he was satisfied with his understanding of the situation. When they reached the beach the Lady Dalcimon stared at the three ships and wagged her head despondently.
“You’ll not defeat the raiders with that meagre force.”
Eric remained silent as they signalled the ships and the small shore boats were sent to meet him. Within the hour everybody was back aboard the ships and Eric explained to the lady Dalcimon.
“We are going to get reinforcements.”
Lady Dalcimon frowned.
“You’ll be lucky; the Viking raiders have been plundering this estuary for weeks. Our town was razed and we were hiding in those hovels until the raiders found us.
“Explain.” Eric demanded as the ships turned nimbly in the tideway and sped out to sea.
She described how the raiding parties had taken advantage of what uncertainty and strife lay between Frisian and Frank
“But you say you are, or should I say were, married to a Frisian.”
Lady Dalcimon wagged her head.
“It was a political union. My father married me to the Frisian chief as a political move. It was the first step towards entreating a peace but those Vikings arrived without warning. Neither we Franks nor the Frisians were ready.”
Suddenly Vorin called from the lead ship.
“Longships Eric! Six of them pulling out of that inlet on the north shore.”
The Lady Dalcimon tensed with fear.
“There are too many of them and those ships are fearsomely fast!”
Eric smiled and wagged his head to reassure her.
“I think not milady. Just watch.”
With a single motion of his arm, Eric signalled ‘All Sail’ and in seconds the cotton sails billowed forth to cause each of the ships to leap forward like horses to the fences. Eric’s ship gave a violent lurch and pounded hard against the increasing waves as the three ships sped for the open sea and safety. Lady Dalcimon knew little of ships but the wild ride and violent pounding told her she was aboard some wonderful craft. Her stare of disbelief widened as she realised all three of the strange craft were already outstripping the Viking longships even with the Norsemen pulling hard on their oars to assist their sails. She gasped in disbelief for the only ships she had ever encountered were clumsy Frankish trading vessels. To her people, any appearance of Viking ships was deemed to mean certain capture or death because of their renowned speed and ferocity.
“What manner of ships are these!?” She finally squealed as excitement and relief betook her high-born manners.”
“They are the queen’s ships my lady, and as you see, they are fast! Look yonder, that is our destination.”
Lady Dalcimon followed Eric’s hand to note a fleet standing off the notorious shoals that made the estuary so dangerous.
“What fleet is that? What people are you?”
Eric huffed with friendly censure.
“Come now, surely my lady, do you not recognise my speech and my accent as Saxon?”
She frowned uncertainly.
“Well; well yes, but these are not Saxon ships and I heard other tongues being used by some of your men, Danish for one.”
“Well my lady, be assured, we mean you no harm. My leader is with that fleet and you will shortly meet her but not immediately, we must deal with these Viking marauders first.”
“Her? Are you saying your leader is a woman?”
Eric smiled and chuckled.
“Yes. Why; does that surprise you?”
“Well; yes! It is not our custom to have men follow a woman. Frankish women must know there place. This woman must be a remarkable person to command warriors such as you.”
Eric smiled again as he enlightened her.
“Have you heard of ‘The Lioness of Carthage’?
Lady Dalcimon’s jaw sagged as a gasp of disbelief.
“Do not mock me Saxon. The Lioness of Carthage is a myth, a fairy story!”
“Do you think so my lady?”
“No woman could do all the things they tell of her! The tales grow more ludicrous and impossible with every telling.”
Eric shrugged. He had not time to disillusion the lady for they were closing fast with Drustina and the main fleet. Eric simply acceded to her opinion.
“Very well my lady, if you say the lioness is a myth, a figment of men’s fantasies, then so be it. I’m going to be busy shortly; perhaps later we can discuss it.”
Even as Eric spoke, Vorin released a signal fire arrow that distracted Eric from his conversation with Lady Dalcimon as he was forced to attend to immediate events. Lady Dalcimon was left to her own devices. Vorin’s flaming arrow elicited an immediate response from The Angry mermaid and within minutes, Lady Dalcimon watched fascinated as three ships weighed anchors and separated from the fat merchantmen. They set sail and hurtled toward Eric’s flotilla. A few minutes later Eric hauled his own ships around as Drustina waved her sword towards the pursuing longships and called out one word.
“Vikings!?”
“Aye, six of them. What say you?”
“Lead them towards the trading ships; once they are amongst the Danes they will be out-numbered. They will also be hampered by the fat slow traders but we will be able to dodge around them as they have to forego their oars to fight. Have you plenty of arrows?”
“Aye my lady, plenty, we have not used a one so far. Oh, and we have some passengers.”
“We’ll sort that out later.” Drustina replied, “To arms Eric!”
“With that final shout all six of Drustina’s ships turned about and sped back to the Danish trading fleet. As she approached the lumbering, fat-bellied merchantmen, Drustina called her pr-arranged orders.
Just form three lines of four and set course for the west. You need to avoid the shoals and so will they, but my ships are small and can work amongst the shoals. Be prepared to use your fire arrows and don’t hit any of my ships!”
The Danish trading master waved his thankful agreement and the plan was set.
As the Danish trading vessels slowly lumbered into lines they proved too tempting a prize to be ignored by the approaching Vikings who swung to port and fell upon the seemingly easy targets.
It was not until they had entered between the lines of merchantmen with a view to going alongside and boarding that the Vikings realised they were trapped. As the last Viking ship passed into the lines Drustina sprung her trap and her six manoeuvrable craft raced across the course of the merchantmen each pair slipping across the bows of the Viking ships and pumping fire arrows into them before slipping across the lines and out of sight behind the merchantmen ...only to turn sharp about and return through the next gap to repeat a grid-iron pattern of rapid furious attacks. The Viking raiders found themselves under siege from all four quarters and quickly succumbed to the strategy. The arrows had done their work as artillery and the attrition had been wholesale. The Vikings were overwhelmed before a single sword had been swung.
As Vikings fell to the barrage of arrows the six longships gradually became uncontrollable then helpless as their crews were decimated. As each Viking ship tried to re-ship their oars and escape, Drustina used the essential advantage given only to the Angry Mermaid. Her tough oak planking could endure anything the Vikings threw at her whilst she swept down on a reciprocal course and used her tough hull to shatter the oars as she swept past at speed. During this tactic, the entire mermaid’s crew ducked down under their shields whilst a chosen few set a wall of shields around Drustina at the helm and the men manning the sheets. Within minutes two Viking longships were completely disabled. Drustina was forced to give them grudging respect. To a man they refused to surrender and died under the hail of arrows that now beset them.
The Lioness had not time to savour her success however for she had four more ships to deal with. Signalling to her other commanders, she left Carl to supervise the capture of the two disabled ships whilst she led her fleet in pursuit of the fleeing raiders. Outnumbered five to four and already severly weakened by the attrition in the first phase of the battle the remaining ships were steadily overhauled and captured. The Norsemen were too exhausted to row and gradually each ship fell behind to be devoured piecemeal by Drustina’s voracious wolves. By nightfall, they were long out of sight of the Danish merchantmen and it was the following morning before Drustina returned to finally rendezvous with her victorious comrades.
As she hailed the victorious fleet Eric turned sharp about to introduce the Lady Dalcimon to his commander.
“My lady, this is one of the passengers I described to you. It’s our first opportunity to meet with you. May I present the Lady Dalcimon.”
Drustina was too pre-occupied with assessing the extent and value of her victory to first take much notice. She was almost off-hand in her brusqueness as she called her captains together. Eric had to remind her again with a slightly sharper tone.
“Dru! I think what she has to say is important!”
“What!? Eric, can’t you see I’m busy?”
“That’s as maybe but I think this is more important. The lady Dalcimon has only this morning revealed her full Identity. She is not just a lady, she was married to the West Frisian King! May I present Queen Dalcimon!”
“Oh. Aahh! I see.”
Drustina stood up, smiled and extended her hand. Queen Dalcimon frowned.
“I would expect a bit more deference than that miss. I am queen of the West Frisians. Do you not know how to greet your superiors!?”
Drustina leant back in mild surprise. Despite her rank as a warrior queen, with titles bestowed upon her from all over the European world, she had always had an easy, familiar relationship with all her captains and generals. Her lips tightened as she recognised in the Lady Dalcimon (now found to be a queen), an overbearing and pompous, snob. Drustina replied softly but the menace and contempt hardened her voice like the ring of tempered steel.
“Really your majesty then might I present myself.”
Queen Dalcimon hesitated uncertainly but Drustina gave her no time to respond
“Do you realise that you are Addressing Her Majesty, Queen Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin; Lioness of Carthage, Great Crocodile of the Nile, Consort to The King of Nubia, Defender of the Eastern Empire, Captain of the Order of the Holy Eastern Church, Commander Royal of the House of Polander, Saviour of the house of Dane-mark, Knight benefactor of the House of Svensk, and finally; if I might be so blunt; Saviour of your sanctimonious, woe-begotten, over-inflated Frankish hide! Who the hell do you think you are!!? Queen without a kingdom!”
Queen Dalcimon’s face paled with shock as she visibly shrank under Drustina’s contemptuous glare. Only then did she realise the woman before her bore scars aplenty to her bare arms and legs and carried a superb sword that even she, a Frankish noble-woman untutored in martial arts, recognised as a weapon of remarkable substance. Her demeanour quickly changed as she dropped to bended knee and begged forgiveness. Drustina wagged her head disbelievingly and caught Eric’s eye as she remarked.
“A simple ‘Sorry’ would have done. No wonder she ended up as a slave, look how easy her bubble is pricked. Sort her out Eric,
Sort all of them out, then join Carl and Urthos and me as we decide what to do with these captured ships.”
Drustina leapt lithely from The Mermaid across to Urthos’s ship where she joined her other lieutenants.
“Found much amongst the Viking ships?” She asked.
Urthos shrugged.
“Not much, Carl’s going through the last one, the one you chased.”
“Even as Urthos finished, there was a shout from Carl as he searched the last captured Viking ship.”
“There’s a captive boy hiding under the spare sail, he’s just a youngster.”
“Bring him over, we might get some more information.”
“Carl oar-hopped skilfully across the lattice of oars the ships put out to connect in open water whilst avoiding the hulls grinding against each other. Drustina smiled as she watched the captive boy repeat the nimble performance as he skipped behind Carl. When he landed as lithely as only a young boy can, he stood wide-eyed before the warrior woman who was obviously somebody to whom all these powerful warriors paid homage. Drustina smiled encouragement.
“What’s your name boy?”
“I am Andrar the son of Hardar, King of West Friesia.
“And how old are you?”
“Fifteen years.”
Drustina had a sudden thought.
‘Could this be Dalcimon’s son?’ She wondered as she questioned the boy further.
“What’s your mother’s name?”
“Dalcimon!” The boy answered without hesitation thereby indicating that he did not see Drustina’s forces as enemies. Drustina pressed further.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No! But you are obviously a warrior.”
Drustina choked back a chuckle and turned to include Carl and Urthos in the amusement.
“And how would you know that boy. Can you not see that I’m a woman?”
The boy stood his ground and Drustina was growing to like the boy.
“You may be a woman, but those are not a maiden’s scars and you carry a sword.”
“Oh so I’m a maiden now am I.”
The boy hesitated thinking he might have caused offence. He apologised.
“I’m sorry miss, I just thought ...”
Drustina couldn’t hold her amusement any longer and she let out a loud unladylike hoot of laughter. Carl and Urthos joined in with belly laughs and the boy became a little frightened.
“I meant no insult miss!!”
Drustina recovered from her laughter and gripped the boy’s jaw gently in her hands.
“Oh don’t worry young man, you have not offended me, it’s not often I get called a maid these days. Not with all these scars and weather-lines. You have not insulted me lad, you have just paid me the nicest compliment a young lad could give. Maid indeed, well I never. Carl, there’s hopes for me yet when a teenaged lad admires my looks aye?”
The boy peered innocently and frowned.
“I see no wrinkles miss; scars aplenty, yes, but no wrinkles.”
Drustina bend down and planted a sloppy kiss on the boy’s lips and he reared backwards with disgust. Urthos and Carl roared with laughter again as Carl remarked to the youngster.
“You’ll change your tune one day lad when a maid kisses you like that.”
Drustina released the boy and grinned at her lieutenants.
“Give the boy some wine or beer and ask Eric to bring the Mermaid back here, he should have sorted out those women captives by now.”
A signal fire-arrow soon brought Eric alongside and he called over.
“All the captives have been divided amongst our ships for now. I kept the bossy queen for you.”
“Oh thanks Eric,” Drustina snapped back sarcastically, “That’s all I need. Tell her I might have something of interest to her.”
Eric looked down behind him and said a few words. A pale distraught face emerged from below the gunwale and Drustina shouted as she hauled the boy into view..
“Do you know this young rag-a-muffin?”
Dalcimon released a screech of joy and cried out the boy’s name.
“Andrar!”
“Mum!”
Drustina glanced over her shoulder and grinned at Urthos and Carl.
“Reckon they were telling the truth then gentlemen. Let the lad go to his mother.”
In a flash it seemed to Drustina that the boy was already in his mother’s arms and relating his father’s end.
“They killed Dad! He fought to the last but they just skewered him. He didn’t stand a chance.”
Dalcimon’s eyes filled with tears. Tears for her son now returned from the dead, and tears for her lost husband now confirmed as dead.
Drustina was now pre-occupied with other issues and she beckoned to Carl and Urthos.
“Join me on the Mermaid gentlemen; we need to discuss the spoils of war.”
Queen Dalcimon’s eyes widened as Drustina danced across the matrix of extended oars with the same agility and confidence as her two lieutenants. When she landed lightly on the deck the Frankish queen bowed then knelt before confirming.
“Then you are The Lioness ... sorry, Her Majesty the Lioness of Carthage. You are not a myth, a legend.”
Drustina laughed as loudly as her three lieutenants Eric, Carl and Urthos as she replied.
“Do I look like a legend? Get off your knees lady. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”
So saying Drustina reached down and hauled Dalcimon upright as she motioned her lieutenants to join her and Dalcimon in the little bow cuddy.
“We need to determine what’s afoot in the Estuary lands . Who rules where and what.”
~~ooo000ooo~~
In this chapter Drustina resumes Queenship and diplomatic activities as well as taking Dalcimon's only son Andrar under her martial wing. The first glimmers of a defence pact amongst the countries of the North European plains start to ignite.
The Angry mermaid 63.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 63.
Mabina. ... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan .... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... The twins grandfather.
Giana.... The twins grandmother
Caderyn.... The twins father.
Herenoie.... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel.... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel ... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia .... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun... . Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon. ... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar .... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
The Angry Mermaid 63
After lying off for a second night, Drustina’s men and ships were well rested. Sister Catherine and the other ex nuns were crewing their own ship, which served amongst the Danish trading fleet as the auxiliary supply ship to Drustina’s fighting ships. The saved slave women were left with Sister Catherine who worked closely with the Danish traders to harmonise the combined fighting fleet and merchant convoy functions. As dawn broke the slow trading vessels started inwards to the mouth of the estuary while Drustina’s ships worked in pairs sweeping the inlets and islands to ensure there were no more nasty Viking surprises.
By noon they had arrived at the abandoned village where Dalcimon and the women had been captured. For want of anywhere better amidst the vast marshes, the mound resumed its defensive function and the whole fleet set to repairing the defences and abandoned houses. Fortunately the Viking raiders had not razed the site and Drustina concluded they had probably intended returning or indeed settling permanently.
As her men and the Danish traders busied themselves with repairs, Drustina interrogated the Frankish and Friesian women about the surrounding lands. Queen Dalcimon drew maps as best she could from memory whilst Andrar described as many places as he could remember when out hunting or visiting other places with his father. Finally, the village of Hoek was back to its original circumstance and apart from the butchered menfolk, a normality of sorts had returned to the island. The several hundred Danish traders remained at the village while Drustina sent out her men to search the surrounding islands and inlets to try and establish some sort of normality. It was fully three days before Urthos and Eric returned with news of the first settlement that had not suffered from the Viking predations.
“It’s some fifty miles upriver Dru. Those bloody raiders have spread mayhem and murder for hundreds of square miles throughout the region.”
“But why? I wonder.” Drustina mused. “D’you think they’re softening up the region to create a new colony of their own?”
“They’d be hard put,” Carl opined. “Once the Saxons and Friesians get wind of the extent of the invasion they’d mount a full scale defence. Believe me Dru, there are a hell of a lot of Saxons and Friesians living on the northern plains stretching from the sea to the great Alps. They’ll be swarming all over this place once they know the Vikings are raiding these shores.”
The following morning it was decided to hold a full moot with everybody attending. Queen Dalcimon was surprised when she learned that everybody was expected to attend it. She mentioned her concerns to Drustina.
“Your Majesty I am surprised; you have the common women attend these councils.”
Drustina shook her head in resigned anger.
“Dammit! Dalcimon; am I not ‘a common woman? I was born to a family of common boat-builders. Not for me the proud title or duchess or lady; not for me the easy ascent into the ranks of nobility or even royalty. Every one of these scars counts as coin that bear’s witness to my costs whilst climbing the hill to fortune. And heavy payment I might add; for the scars are many and the price was high! I have known little but war and death since I was driven from my homeland at an age younger than your precious son Andrar. Do you think my titles and fame were not hard won? Do not speak low of ‘common people’ for it is common people who toil that you should live at ease. And speak not so contemptuously of women either.
Am I not a woman? Is Sister Catherine not a woman? Is Tara my sister not a woman? Speak to them of their stories; indeed speak to the nuns who became wives to my men. We warriors and all the wives alike have endured the same hardships. Each of our band has a right to speak and many a good idea has come from the ranks of the women. Besides; what of homes and fields and food and water? What of rearing our children?
The women know about these things every bit as much as men. Our fleet depends upon its stomach and that means finding unplundered towns where we can trade for food. To this end, Carl and Eric are tomorrow morning setting forth to take the news of our arrival and the Viking defeat as far inland to the Saxon tribes as they can.
Urthos, being a Gaul would have trouble amongst the Friesians and Saxons but he will fare better amongst the Franks so he is spreading the word to the south and west. Meanwhile, I and the bulk of my men will remain here with the Danish traders to rebuild this foetid swampy mound into a trading town of some substance. We have a monumentous task but we have experience of this work, our first task is to make shelter for everybody. Just look about you and what do you see. Men and women working to make shelter for all before the night. You might be better thought of if you stopped poncing about and got your bloody hands dirty.”
Dalcimon released a shocked gasp at such forthright comment and twp pink spots of anger betrayed her anger.
“If my husband were alive you would be punished for such impudence.”
“If your husband were alive it would mean this village would still be alive. Even your own son is working; look down there!”
Dalcimon’s eyes followed Drustina’s finger to see her son slaving waste deep in water and mud as he struggled alongside Carl and Urthos to build a pier in the river. For a moment she was shocked to think of her son doing filthy manual work but a closer look told her that Andrar was actually enjoying himself. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed with remorse as she realised her son, no less, was working amongst men. At that moment she saw Urthos say something to her son and her son burst out laughing while Carl smiled benignly. It was obvious that her son was finding solace and happiness in the hard dirty work. Then she looked up to see that Eric had catamaraned two of the fat trading ships to fashion a simple dredger that was spooning mud from the river to the land. Further downstream, Sister Catherine’s auxiliary ship was returning from the storm beach with a load of precious stone to add durability to the jetty. The nuns had been gathering stones to build enduring walls. That would withstand the damp rot of the river.
She turned to speak to Drustina only to find that the Warrior queen was already attending another matter as she seemed to be flitting from place to place organising work. Dalcimon realised that only Drustina carried the charisma and authority enough to supervise and give the few orders necessary as well versed gangs went about their specific tasks. The imagery served only to create more remorse in Dalcimon and she rushed over to the kitchen to assist in cooking the huge communal meal. One of the few tasks she knew she could do well. Within minutes she found herself so engrossed in work she had forgotten the seeming insult served up by Drustina.
At noon the sonorous bell boomed out the commencement of the moot and people appeared in all states of dishevelment as they plonked themselves down after grabbing some of the stew the cooks had prepared. Drustina was standing with one foot on a log as she wolfed down the welcome food and discussed an agenda with Sister Catherine who had been elected scribe.
As calm settled on the meeting, everybody ate, Drustina tapped the bell gently with her sword to capture everybody’s attention.
“I’ve a list here of tasks with priorities. As I read them out I want suggestions and additions for I might have missed something important.”
A murmur of agreement rumbled through the moot and Drustina’s voice started to spell out the items. Dalcimon watched as hands went up and suggestions were added as Sister Catherine and two of her acolytes scribbled furiously. The Frankish queen was impressed by the speed and simplicity with which decisions were reached by a common consensus. As a young girl she often sat in on council meetings in the Frankish kingdom and seen the constant strife and bickering between the king and the nobles as each individual sought to curry favour with her uncle and push forward his own agenda. Drustina’s moot had proven to be a quick, efficient tool and all completed during the lunch hour when men and women were eating and resting. Virtually no work time had been lost. During the afternoon, Dalcimon could not find Drustina until the stone ship returned from the storm beach loaded with another load of precious stones. Drustina’s fingers were cut and her nails broken from the work of breaking the stones out of the sand and rubble. Dalcimon then realised that the Lioness of Carthage was not ‘all talk’! She led by example.
That night Dalcimon was surprised to find she slept the night through only to be roused by Drustina’s sister, Tara shouting at the children to get up. She spoke to Tara.
“You have two beautiful twins there.”
Tara grinned.
“They’re not mine, they’re Dru’s. I’m their aunt. Dru’s my sister.”
Dalcimon stared stupefied.
“What she’s had children!!?”
“She has six and twenty years my lady; I would be more surprised had she not.”
“But the father, what of him?”
“I know nothing of the father that was before my time, before she won me back my freedom.”
“What, you were a slave also?”
Tara just wagged her head and turned to attend the children but Dalcimon pressed her questions.
“Please; I want to know. This woman, this Lioness, who amongst you knows the full story?”
Tara frowned. She knew full well of her one-time brother now sister’s duality but she knew nothing of the times in the middle sea when Drustan’s maidenhood appeared. Those questions were best answered by Carl and Eric and Urthos, the loyal and grateful lieutenants who had stuck by her through thick and thin, fire and blood, ice and hunger, war and peace. Only those three could tell most of the story and their lips were shut tighter than the limpets on the shore. Tara sighed as the children joined her for breakfast. Over the breakfast circle Tara elaborated.
“Listen Dalcimon, just heed this. Most of the so called myths you have heard, most of the stories you hear men and women tell of her, have got large elements of truth. She doesn’t talk about it much. Real heroes rarely do. Just be thankful she is not a covetous woman. Of all the riches she could have had bestowed upon her by grateful sovereigns, of all the lands she could have ruled by right of conquest or liberation; she seeks only to return in peace and freedom to our beloved homeland of Lleyn. A small peninsular where we as children grew up, a land that I also would love to see again. That is my sister’s only motivation but woe betide anybody who tries to deflect from that objective by detention or force. Now enough of chit-chat. I have work, like everybody else. Carl and Eric depart for Saxony today while Urthos seeks to treaty with your people, the Franks. Perhaps if you were to compile some letter to present to the Frankish chieftains or even your uncle the Frankish king, it might ease Urthos’s transit through his realms, for Urthos is after all a Gaul, and I know not of how Franks and Gauls lie. We all here know that the Saxons and the Friesians are almost one people; it is hard these days to slide a sword blade between them they are in such tight allegiance.”
Tara’s words struck a note with Dalcimon, if she wrote such a letter, it might endear her to Drustina; perhaps even enter her into the Lionesses’ confidence. She nodded to Tara and slipped away to seek pen and parchment.
There was much bustle in the camp when Dalcimon appeared at Drustina’s side for Eric and Carl were about to depart. Last minute notes were being written and finally, an hour late, the two Saxons set off for Saxony. It was only then that Drustina could spare a moment for Dalcimon.
“Yes my lady, what is it you want?”
“I have compiled a letter to my uncle the king; it is visa for Urthos to cross all Frankish baronies betwixt my lands and my Uncle’s castle, thence onward to the border with Gaul.”
To Dalcimon’s surprise, Drustina studied the Latin script and nodded appreciatively.
“Thank-you my lady, this will ease his journey, I must confess I had reservations about sending Urthos through the Frankish kingdom but needs must if your peoples are to defeat the Viking threat.”
Dalcimon frowned, it was the first time she had seen Drustina actually read a script. On each previous occasion she had seen The Lioness leave the scribing to Sister Catherine.
“I did not realise you could read. You never cease to amaze me, are you sure you were born a commoner?”
Drustina sighed and wagged her head at Dalcimon’s unintended insult.
“Listen my lady, apart from speaking many languages including Cymraeg, Breton, Iberian, Moorish, Latin, Greek, Egyptian, Goth, Russ, Polski, Saxon and Norse; I also read and write Latin, Greek, Hebrew and some Hieroglyphs. I also understand many runic symbols. D’you think for one moment I could treat with kings if I had no letters?”
Dalcimon’s jaw sagged as she bit her lip. It seemed that every time she opened her mouth she caused offence to ‘The Lioness’.
“I’m sorry your majesty. I should have realised. I am so sorry.”
Drustina sensed the despondency in Dalcimon’s demeanour and she softened her mood. She been tense and busy organising Carl and Eric’s mission then she had yet to get Urthos on the road. She settled on a log and invited Dalcimon to join her.
“Listen Dalcimon, may I call you by your given name?”
“Yes, yes, please do. I fear the formality gets in the way.”
“It does my lady, believe me it does. You can readily see how free-talking my lieutenants are with me. It means we get quickly to the nub of any problem. We discovered long ago that formality gets in the way of function, especially when blood is flowing”
Dalcimon bit her lip again.
“Yes. I could readily see that but ... but I felt it would have been presumptuous of me to treat with you with the same familiarity. If there is one thing you have taught me it is that respect must be earned. I had not earned the right to speak to you in such a familiar manner.”
Drustina wagged her head and smiled.
“Am I really that fearsome? Truly Dalcimon, I am but a woman after all.”
Dalcimon snorted involuntarily as she squawked.
“Bloody hell Drustina! You just put a Viking war fleet to a total rout. Nobody hereabouts has ever managed to do that before.”
Drustina glanced down and chuckled as she raised her eyelashes and fluttered them in a mock gesture of modesty.
“It was only six long-ships my lady; hardly a war fleet. You flatter me.”
Dalcimon was not to be dissuaded though.
“No! I do not flatter you. It was a force of nearly five hundred Norsemen all armed to the teeth. They laid waste to my lands and others to a total of fifty or more miles in all directions. That is a war in my parlance! My God Drustina, do you not realise what this means to your reputation. The Franks, Friesians and Saxons will tell sagas of this battle for generations to come.”
“Battle!?” Drustina squeaked. “It was hardly a battle, six Viking longships, six of my ships and a dozen lumbering Danish merchant-men who fought well I might add. To me that was nought but a raiding party, albeit a very violent and unnecessarily cruel one. We had to kill them all, that way their end remains a mystery to the Norse king. Their slaughtering all your menfolk only tells me they had plans to return to colonise the estuary.
When Harald Coldblood eventually realises that his expedition will not return, he will think twice about attacking this coast in the future. If he does, you Franks and the Friesians had better be ready. That is what my emissaries are all about ... organisation.”
“That is what my uncle and father were about when I was married to the West Friesian king; it was nothing but a political pact. We all understand the importance of this estuary and the river that makes it.”
“Good, I understand that, but now your peoples will understand the urgency.
“What happens if this ... this Norse king attacks before we are ready.”
“That is not an option; that is why I am posting emissaries to all who are affected. The Friesians, the Franks, the Saxons and even the Gauls.
“Will they listen, will they act?”
Drustina shrugged
“I don’t know Dalcimon. I can only try to help them. If they don’t want to be helped then I can do no more. I resume my own course, my own ambitions.”
“Which are?”
Drustina felt tired. Talking to Dalcimon had clarified some of the issues she faced. It seemed that the Vikings would forever be her nemesis, her bane. She sighed.
“Oooohh it doesn’t matter what my aspirations are Dalcimon. Let’s just try and sort this mess out shall we. Is there anybody else to whom you can write; you know beyond your uncle’s realm, someone among the Gauls?”
Dalcimon wagged her head. As a niece and the only female relative of the Frankish king she had grown up knowing she would never be anything but a bargaining chip. A bride to barter for political ends. Until she had encountered the Lioness, Dalcimon had never even dreamt that a woman could have a free will, have control of her own life. Since meeting the Lionesses’ band and talking to the ex nuns who had bravely chosen to renounce their heavenly vows and freely enter into marriages with men of their mutual choosing, Dalcimon had had her eyes opened. So much so that now, here she was talking freely and without reservations to a legend whose fame was known in every nursery in every castle in Europe. Now she was discussing major issues, destinies of nations. She almost had to pinch herself to convince herself she was not dreaming.
As if to reinforce her sense of fantasy, Urthos appeared to join Drustina in bidding the Saxon’s farewell and then Dalcimon had an insight into the mundane pressures of leadership. No sooner had Eric and Carl disappeared around the first bend than Drustina and Urthos were bent over the crude maps that Dalcimon had drawn from memory, while she discussed a possible route with her lieutenant. Drustina glanced over her shoulder and called casually to Dalcimon.
“What’s the best and fastest route to your Uncle’s castle?”
Dalcimon felt a surge of pride as she took a pen and inscribed the map with route-markers and pointers as she described salient features to be used as land-marks.
The following morning the departure scenes were repeated as Urthos took his leave of Drustina and set out to meet Dalcimon’s uncle, the Frankish king.
While the lieutenants were on their missions Dalcimon received a practical education in rebuilding a town. Amongst the Danish traders were some émigré’ families of stonemasons who quickly set about building first a stone jetty and then a small but secure fortification around the original mound of Hoek. Within four weeks, Dalcimon could hardly believe the degree of progress as she slaved away driving one of the crude wagons that had been quickly fashioned to ferry the beach stone from the new jetty to the town walls. At the end of the month, her delicate royal hands had been roughened to resemble a builder’s fists as she lifted, hauled and discharged stones as and where required. It was a clear demonstration to her that in Drustina’s band, nobody but nobody shirked!
Fully six weeks after their departure, Dalcimon was rudely woken by the signal horn that declared Eric and Carl’s return. As she erupted from her warm but lowly bed she rushed eager for news to the South gate where Eric and Carl were marvelling at the new town wall and teasing Drustina.
“Bloody hell Dru, where’s your whip? Eric hooted. “You must have worked like the Trojans to achieve this.”
“We did!” Dalcimon interrupted ruefully as she held up her cracked and bloodied fingers.
“Oh well done girl!” Eric grinned. “A girl who knows how to work is a girl I could get to like!”
Drustina caught the predatory glint in Eric’s eye and she grinned to herself.
‘Now there’s a match and she’s not a bad looker either.’ Drustina mused.
She then turned to Carl.
“So gentlemen, what news have you?”
“The east Friesian king and the Saxon king both wish to meet you.”
“That can be easily arranged. We can invite them here to meet the Frankish king ... and possibly the king of Gaul as well though that would take some time.” Drustina replied.
“There’s other news as well.” Eric added. “Both kings think you should become queen of this region, they have sent their epistles stating they would accept your claim to the country of the estuary.”
He dipped into his messenger bag and presented the pertinent letters. Drustina scanned them and frowned.
“I can’t accept these offers, besides, this land is not theirs to give.”
“It says in the third letter that they recognise your right of title through victory in battle.”
Drustina snorted with disgust.
“That’s rubbish. I didn’t stuff a few Vikings simply to carpet-bag a whole bloody country. This land belongs to the rightful monarch Dalcimon.”
Carl intervened.
“Firstly the Saxon king told us the Franks won’t normally recognise a queen and secondly, they feel the area needs a strong king, experienced in battle to stave off any Viking threats.”
Drustina snorted again.
“Don’t they realise it was a queen that sent the Vikings packing on this occasion?”
Eric and Carl chuckled knowingly.
“Dru, you’re something special and every King in Europe knows it. That’s why they feel you’d be best suited.”
“Well I won’t oblige them. You two most of all have known my single aim ever since we met. Lleyn, Lleyn, Lleyn. That was always my target, always my ambition.”
The two lieutenants nodded sagely, Drustina’s words were true.
“So what now then dear queen?” Carl grinned.
Drustina flushed and smiled. It wasn’t often that Carl used the title 'queen'.
“Dalcimon resumes her throne, Andrar will have to learn of kingship and fast. He’s fifteen and a prince, he should already have some idea. By the gods, did not you two have swordsmanship skills by that age?”
Both lieutenants nodded.
“Well I’m sure he has as well. Go and fetch him.”
A runner was despatched and Drustina settled on what had become her stump. The remains of a tree felled during the reconstruction of the town. She spoke again.
“But that still doesn’t solve the main problem. Dalcimon has virtually no men at arms to defend against a Viking attack. The four kingdoms will have to rally around and pretty quickly."
“That’ll be a first!” Eric observed.
“Yeah, well needs must. Urthos will be back soon and then we can thrash some ideas out. The Danish traders wish to get on as well. They’ve already missed nearly two months of spring and summer for trading in Dane ‘law.”
“Yeah, but they’ve now got a further option. Hoek will become an excellent trading port and the river provides a vast trading route far inland.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Eric added, “The traders who accompanied us said there were some splendid opportunities and their ships can travel many, many miles inland.”
“They’ve earned that right to trade freely because of their support in the battle. Those rights are more than adequate compensation for the loss of a couple of months trading. I’ll have a word with their trading masters. Perhaps six ships can resume passage to Britannia and six can remain here and develop links up the river. It’s also in their interest to have a safe, deep port where they can maintain their ships. Hoek will be ideally situated.”
“That makes sense,” Carl agreed as he turned to Dalcimon who had remained silent throughout the talking. “What are your feelings my lady?”
Dalcimon was still recovering from the surprise that she was being allowed to keep her queendom. She had fully expected to lose everything to Sallic Law. Once again the Legendary Lioness had surprised her and also educated her. Since hearing of Drustina’s disinterest in grabbing a whole country she had to admire the woman. She was almost in tears as she replied.
“If I get to keep my country, I would certainly let the Danes trade freely. Drustina is right, they have truly earned that privilege. I might also add, they would be a welcome force for the continued construction of the harbour and the town not to mention expansion of trade. This much I do know, trade brings wealth.”
Drustina nodded knowingly.
“Amen to that. So for now we continue building apace until Urthos returns. I’ll call a moot tomorrow morning. Business needs to be thrashed out with the Danes. I’m tired of all this dealing and wheeling. Now where’s that boy. I need to test his mettle. If he’s to become a king he can test his swordsmanship against my hand.”
Dalcimon paled.
“Go easy on him please, he’s my only son.”
Drustina chuckled.
“I don’t intend to kill the poor lad Dalcimon. But his sword arm is far too weak to take on Eric or Carl. While he’s young and not yet filled out, he will have to do as I do, move quickly and have a fast, accurate sword. He could be facing Vikings before this sailing season is out, let alone next year.”
As she finished, Andrar appeared.
“Who could be facing Vikings?” He asked.
As one, Eric Carl and Drustina turned to face him with a one word answer.
“You!”
Andrar paled and looked to his mother.
“Am I allowed to Mummy? You’ve always frowned upon my training.”
Dalcimon turned red with embarrassment and rushed to explain to Drustina.
“I’ve always felt that education was more important. His father agreed not to have him train until he was sixteen.”
“Well reality changes things,” Drustina replied, “He’ll have to learn and learn fast.”
She turned to Andrar and pointed to a spare sword that hung on the post supporting her tent.
“Use that and come at me.”
Eric and Carl stepped back to make space and the boy eagerly grasped the spare ‘lady sword’ that was Drustina’s signature weapon.
He struck a pose then lunged only to find there had been no clash of swords but Drustina’s blade was already pricking his throat. His eyes widened as he croaked.
“How the hell did you do that?”
“Practice lad, practice. Try again. As I said, you need agility and good footwork.”
Andrar now approached warily and Drustina had to parry his strike before disarming him with a deft flick. His sword fell on the ground behind him and he stared stupidly at his unharmed, empty hand. After ten minutes more of fencing Drustina called a halt and explained.
“That’s enough for tonight. I’ve still got letters to read. Tomorrow, after work, we’ll have a good hour’s practice. Go and eat.”
Andrar thanked her, smiled at his mother Dalcimon then scurried off to the food tent. As the only male aged fifteen in the camp, Andrar was having to grow up quickly amongst men. Only that day he had been loading the stones from the storm beach to the ship then unloading them onto the new pier. After eating, he was quickly asleep and his mother turned to Drustina with a relieved grin when she came upon his comatose form.
“Well at least he isn’t pestering the girls. He’s too tired.”
“Harrumph”, Eric growled. “The work’ll do him good!”
“Come on, it’s our turn to eat.” Drustina added.
~~ooo000ooo~~
In this chapter, Drustina enforces a workable treaty between four competing tribes, namely Saxons, Friesians, Franks and Gauls. In so doing, she teaches the widowed Queen Dalcimon the rudimentary elements of diplomacy and how to play off male conceits against each other by dint of feminine charms and wiles.
The Angry Mermaid 64
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 64.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan .... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twins grandfather.
Giana.... The twins grandmother
Caderyn.... The twins father.
Herenoie.... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim .... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu .... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton..... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel..... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan..... The scullery maid.
Isaar..... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala .... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa .... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega..... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua..... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee .... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar .... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Tha Angry Mermaid Chapter 64.
At Noon a few days later Drustina was up to her waist in the warm brown mud as the late spring sun beat down on her scarred back. They were putting the final touches to the quoins where the jetty wall bent at Right angles to provide the possible entrance to a future haven were an inlet fed into the main river. She heard Sister Catherine call down from the stonework above.
“You’d better get cleaned up Dru, Urthos has returned and he’s got a couple of Frankish emissaries from the King.”
Drustina called across the muddy pit to Eric and the two Joined Carl who was working on the footings to the town wall where a water-gate was planned. Like everybody engaged in the riverside stonework. The three of them were plastered in mud from head to toe. Lady Catherine being a somewhat older and frail lady was excused heavy duties but she still scurried about carrying messages and taking notes as and where required. She grinned as the three leaders emerged from the river bed.
“Are you going to meet the emissaries like that?”
“We might as well, Drustina chuckled. It’ll prove were actually doing something and not arguing or bickering. Where’s Queen Dalcimon?”
“She’s working with the stone loading on the beach. She should be coming up on the next loaded boat. It’ll be lunch time then.”
“Good ah there’s Urthos. I knew he wouldn’t stand on ceremony. Those must be the Frankish emissaries.”
Drustina waved and called Urthos’s name and he grinned as he recognised her voice.
“Good god Drustina, I wouldn’t have recognised you under that mud! I presume those other trolls are Eric and Carl.”
“Watchit brother,” Eric chuckled as Carl wiped some mud off his spattered face to reveal his bright blue eyes.
Urthos grinned and remarked.
“I’ll not shake hands if you don’t mind, that mud stinks!”
Drustina took a cloth that Catherine had offered and she wiped her face and hands enough to be recognised. Eventually she extended her slender but wiry hand to the emissaries.
“Greetings gentlemen. Sorry we had no time to prepare a reception celebration. This is how it is.”
“Are we addressing The Lioness of Carthage ma-am?”
“You are. Sorry about the mess.”
Both emissaries went on bended knee to offer homage but Drustina enlightened them.
“Please get to your feet gentlemen. We don’t wait on ceremony here.”
They stood and stared uncomprehending at the filthy figures before them. Drustina quickly explained.
“We have been working down in the mud to ensure the foundations to the Jetty Quoin are sound and properly established. Such work is essential to our town and its dock enduring.”
“I see,” one of the emissaries replied. “And you do this work yourself?”
“Who better? I built ships before taking up arms. Eric here was a mason and Carl was a builder before they took to journeying and venturing. We have had plenty of experience in this work. We have spent a lot more time building things than we have fighting with our swords.”
The second emissary smiled.
“Perhaps that is what makes your reputation my lady. A builder not a destroyer, a liberator, not a thief.”
Drustina frowned.
“I’m sorry; I don’t follow, what d’you mean by thief.”
“No your Majesty, I think you misheard I said NOT a thief.”
“Oh sorry, this mud gets everywhere including my ears. So gentlemen, might I request that my lieutenants and I get washed up before joining you and Dalcimon around the stump. It’s the nearest thing we have to a council chamber at the moment.”
“Indeed ma-am. Perhaps Urthos could give us a tour while you clean up.”
“Good idea.”
Drustina flashed a smile at Urthos who grinned.
“Another mile walking around the town won’t matter after the miles I’ve walked these past weeks. Blow the horn when you’re ready at the stump.”
The three leaders stumbled into the wash room where they scrubbed up without formality. Eric and Carl had seen Drustina naked many times and they had no issues with sharing the hot tub. They also guarded the entrance to the washroom to prevent any uninvited visitors learning of Drustina’s duality. After first rinsing off the mud Drustina clambered into the hot tub then once immersed, with her duality invisible, Eric and Carl joined her. She grinned as she washed the last remnants of mud from her long fair hair.
“This would make an excellent council meeting place. It’s difficult to be pompous and ceremonial when butt naked.”
Eric grinned back.
“Aye it would that. Can you scrub my back, I scratched it in the mud and it’s itching?”
Without even hesitating, Drustina took a handful of moss, wrapped it in some cotton cloth and fashioned a scrubber to clean his back. She was washing his back when Dalcimon entered unexpectedly.
“Oh my God! Sorry!”
Carl called to her.
“Oh don’t be silly girl. Urthos, Eric and I have all seen our queen naked. Can you tip that bucket of hot water into the tub? It’s getting cold in here.”
Dalcimon had become so attuned to the communal work ethic that she reached down and added the steaming water to the tub without even questioning Carl’s authority. Eric thanked her and then Drustina invited her to join them. Dalcimon hesitated but the dust and sand from the beach stones had invaded every pore of her sweating body. She quickly lost her inhibitions and joined them after Drustina suggested to Eric and Carl that Dalcimon was a little shy and it might be courteous to avert their gaze. Once submerged to her waist she recovered her composure and they chatted briefly as Dalcimon soon felt at ease. Drustina grinned and her womanly senses noted Eric’s glances towards the Frankish woman. Even Drustina noticed that Dalcimon, despite having a fifteen-year-old son and two younger daughters, was still an attractive woman. A thought struck her and she asked Dalcimon casually.
“How old where you when you married the Friesian king?”
Dalcimon hesitated.
“Why d’you ask.”
“I’m just curious; it’s good to know what customs your people have.”
“I was betrothed at aged twelve and married at fourteen, as soon as my womanhood arrived.”
“So that would make you what; thirty, thirty one?”
“No. I’m still twenty nine; I was still fourteen when I conceived Andrar, probably on my wedding night!”
“Mmmm.” Drustina looked thoughtful.
“You could marry again then and have more children.”
Dalcimon squinted suspiciously.
“Where’s this going Lioness?”
“Oh nothing.”
Carl smirked knowingly; he knew exactly what was fermenting in Drustina’s brain. He had even had a previous inkling because he and Eric had joked about Dalcimon’s attractiveness during their journeys to and from the Germanic kingdoms. Now here was Drustina intimating something not dissimilar.
Even as Carl’s sharp brain ticked, Drustina took the matter forward as she turned to Eric.
“How’s that cut on your back Eric? Is it still sore?”
“It still itches a bit Majesty but nothing I would worry about. D’you still have any of that stuff you brought from Egypt?”
“Yes, my sister Tara keeps it. Shall I get it?”
Eric smiled.
“Yeah that would be good.”
Drustina called to the attending woman and explained what she wanted. In less than ten minutes Tara was standing beside the tub. She was grinning knowingly but gave nothing away about Drustina’s duality. She handed her younger sibling the salve and said she’d return later. Drustina went to apply the salve to Eric’s broad, scarred back but suddenly Dalcimon intervened.
“Let me do that, please.”
Drustina’s expression gave nothing away but her plan seemed to be working. Eric got up on his knees and leant forward on the edge of the tub so all his back was visible right down to the cleft of his bum. Dalcimon shuffled forward on her knees and started to apply the salve to the irritated area. As she applied it she studied the myriad scars on his back.
“How came you by so many cuts?” She asked.
Eric was a little embarrassed so Drustina explained.
“All three of my lieutenants were once enslaved by the Barbary pirates. The Moors are not known for their mercy or gentleness. Many of those scars are from the bite of a Moorish whip.”
“But so many scars.” Dalcimon sighed. “They must have been brutes.”
“Yes indeed, but enough of this mothering. Besides, that salve is scarce. Are you still itching Eric?”
“Yes!”
Behind the engrossed pair, Drustina grinned at Carl who smirked back as Dalcimon continued rubbing Eric’s powerful muscles and unwittingly betraying an interest.
Eventually, Drustina gently levered the salve out of Dalcimon’s fingers then left her continuing her ‘administrations’. She spoke to Dalcimon.
“You understand your majesty; it is moments like these that bring me and my lieutenants the closeness that breeds the mutual support we enjoy in battle. Do you now count yourself one of us? To share our secrets, our fears and hopes.”
Dalcimon flushed with pride, partly to at last be counted equal and sharing in every intimacy, then partly with embarrassment as she realised she was butt naked in a hot tub with two other men and another woman. If she had ever been caught in such circumstances in Frankia, she would have possibly been beaten to death as some sort of jezebel. Certainly she would have lost her noble status.
They heard voices outside and Dalcimon started nervously but Carl called loudly.
“Who is it?”
“Sister Catherine. I’ve got your clean clothes.”
“Thanks Cathy, bring them in please.” Drustina replied. As Dalcimon turned nervously.
Her fears proved unfounded as Catherine entered without batting an eyelid.
“Oh hello Dalcimon. I’ll go and get you some clothes as well. Would you prefer a gown or britches like Drustina?”
Dalcimon had never worn britches before and her eyes widened at the very thought.
‘What the hell?’ She mused. ‘Why not?’
She nodded and Catherine departed to return in minutes with a pair of red velvet britches that Dalcimon immediately fell in love with.
“Whose are these?”
“Well they’re yours now. Don’t worry, they’ve never been worn. One of the trader’s wives is a seamstress and she made several pairs for Drustina. You are of similar size so they should fit you. Here; dry yourselves then get dressed, Urthos has finished guiding the emissaries on the tour. Hoek is hardly the seven hills of Rome, is it?”
Dalcimon was relieved when the four were offered towels that lent modesty as they emerged from the tub. Within minutes, she was seated behind Drustina and savouring the unusual freedom that britches gave her as she brushed Drustina’s spectacularly long hair. As she sat astride the bench with legs spread wide like a man she felt no thoughts of ‘immodesty’ about her bare breasts for Drustina sat the same way astride the log as they braided each other’s hair.
‘It cannot get free-er than this!’ Thought Dalcimon.
She caught Drustina smiling at her in the polished copper mirror.
“What? She demanded.
“This is the first time a woman has done my hair since Dane-mark. Thank you!”
“My pleasure. This was what we princesses did in Frankia all the time; primp ourselves and try to catch the men’s eyes.”
“So which is preferable, this or digging ditches?”
Dalcimon let out a squawk of laughter then became more thoughtful.
“Oh this is certainly pleasanter, but gathering the stones off the beach is more rewarding. I get a sense of achievement every time I look at the walls rising higher. We will soon have a defendable town here.”
Drustina nodded and grasped Dalcimon’s wrist gently to reinforce her next remark.
“Yes and don’t forget Dalcimon, it’s your town to defend; it’s your country to protect, it’s your queendom to keep. Don’t let men try to steal it from you!”
Dalcimon frowned.
“But how to stop them. Andrar is still young.”
Drustina smiled enigmatically.
“There are men who would cut off their hand to win yours.”
“Oh I’m sure there are ... and then steal my realm or more accurately steal control of my realm. I’ve learned a lot about men since I was fourteen.”
“They’re not all greedy for land and power my lady and under Friesian law, a queen can rule in her own right, she does not loose sovereignty when she marries. I’ve also got several philanthropists in my band.”
Dalcimon looked somewhat askance.
“Philanthropists; what, amongst your band!? Are they not all warriors and adventurers? I thought they were all seeking their fortunes; and that usually through the spoils of war.”
“Noooo,” Drustina replied softly. My lieutenants are my lieutenants because they have wit as well as muscle. Most ended up following my banner more by accident than design. Eric speaks four or five languages but I suppose you know that.”
“No, I’ve only heard him speaking Saxon and Latin.”
“Then you under-estimate him, he has Iberian and Moorish and a smattering of Danish. I wouldn’t be surprised if he speaks Frankish as well, or Friesian. He was born not far from here, somewhere on the borders of Saxony and Friesia.”
“I’ve never heard him use those other tongues.” Dalcimon replied.
Drustina grinned.
“Let’s be honest Dalcimon, you don’t hear Eric using any tongue very often. He’s a man of few words.”
“Well that’s true ... the strong silent type. He speaks to you though and quite openly.”
Drustina repeated what she’d said before.
“We go back a long way. I think I’m one of the few women he trusts. Carl thinks he took to venturing because of a failed love affair, some flighty young maid might have betrayed his affections. You’ll note he never married any of Sister Catherine’s nuns and he had plenty of opportunities.”
“Has he ever ... you know ... made a pass at you?”
Drustina did not respond immediately. Her duality had never been a secret amongst her lieutenants because they knew her as a boy before her duality really kicked in before she developed her unexpected maidenly form. For want of a better answer she simply wagged her head and replied.
“No. He never did, I suppose after I won their freedom they had too much respect and affection for me. I can say they have proved to be loyal and protective of me ever since their liberation.”
“Have you never fancied them?”
“No. I tend to see Eric, Carl and Urthos as comrades. I had a lover once, the father of my twins, but he chose to settle in the lands bordering the middle sea. He was a Celt, like me so I suppose that’s why I fell for him. Sadly our relationship didn’t last. Not everything I attempted proved successful. Matrimony proved a non-starter for me; sadly.
Anyway, enough of all this maudlin, we have a meeting with your countrymen. Let’s go and meet them. Your hair looks nice even if I say it myself.”
Dalcimon grinned and replied in like vein.
“So does yours. I wish I’d let mine grow like yours. Even when braided it’s half way down to your waist. It makes you look like the Goddess of the woodland, so thick and lustrous and pale, pale gold. Look, there’s a red rose blossom growing on that briar. Let me put it in your hair.”
Drustina watched as Dalcimon picked the rose blossom and threaded it cleverly into Drustina’s tresses. She smiled and gently ran her fingers through Drustina’s still damp hair.
“There, that looks better than any crown. Let’s go and knock those emissaries dead!”
They secured their tops then stepped out of the wash-room to find the man already seated in anticipation and they turned as one when Drustina emerged. None of her lieutenants had ever seen Drustina with her hair braided nor ever sporting a rose blossom. Carl’s eyes widened with surprise as he handed her a clumsy compliment.
“My God! So the Rose has finally blossomed. Well you do look pretty Dru.”
Drustina blushed, she had never received a compliment from her lieutenants before and she wasn’t sure if it somehow demeaned her; somehow implying that her appearance counted more than her wit. She dismissed his remark with a cautionary smile.
“Let’s not get carried away Carl. I’m here to discuss relations betwixt Franks, Friesians, Saxons and Gauls; not to mention the Viking threat.”
Drustina settled on her stump then called for Sister Catherine to bring some maps and charts. Soon she and her lieutenants were busy discussing alliances and treaties with the Franks. After an afternoon of earnest discussions she called a halt to the meeting.
“Well gentlemen, I feel we can go no further until the Saxons and Friesians are here in body and soul to discuss things more deeply. Shall we eat?”
The general consensus amongst the Frankish emissaries was that things had gone well except that they had felt uncomfortable in treating with Drustina, a woman. It was only because of her fearsome and proven reputation that they remained tied to the negotiating table. Their own Frankish had warned them.
“If she is truly the Lioness of Carthage, then treat her with kid gloves. Just remember, when she was just a child, she killed Harald Blueface in fair combat and he was reputedly a Norse giant!”
The following morning a fast messenger arrived from the Friesian king informing Carl and Eric that a combined deputation from Saxony and Friesia was on its way. Drustina smiled with Satisfaction at the news. As she made the letter public. The Frankish emissaries were now satisfied that events were moving forward and they elected to stay. Drustina offered them a limited degree of hospitality.
“You realise gentlemen that the Viking raiders laid almost everything to waste and there is not much food available. We depend heavily upon the good offices of the Danish traders for food but even their supplies are not inexhaustible, and we have to pay for it. The Danes do not exploit our shortages but we still have to pay a fair price.”
Drustina then went on to make a little white lie.
“Queen Dalcimon has arrived at an accommodation with the Danes. Because of the help that they have given rebuilding this town and the dock, they will have a carnet to trade freely within these walls in perpetuity and that will bring wealth to her realm.”
In fact it was Drustina and Catherine who had negotiated the deal but Drustina was determined to promote Dalcimon so that the surrounding tribes would respect her. The Franks listened with interest then asked.
“Could not we Franks have a similar trading privilege?”
“I don’t know,” Drustina replied. “You’d best ask her majesty, Queen Dalcimon.”
The emissaries exchanged concerned glances and Drustina sensed the unspoken thoughts.
“That’s right gentlemen. Her majesty Queen Dalcimon is the authority here. I and my warriors are simply passing through. The Danish traders only work to serve her ambition and create a good safe haven where they can secure a good trading base in this important estuary. Sister Catherine is temporarily Queen Dalcimon’s chamberlain!”
“But you won the battle Lioness. Is not her realm yours by right of conquest?”
Drustina snorted dismissively.
“Gentlemen. I did not defeat Queen Dalcimon, did I? I fought with Viking raiders not a Frankish Queen who had just had her Frisian King and husband murdered. I rescued that woman, or more correctly, my Lieutenant Eric the Saxon rescued her and we recognise her legitimacy. She has not lost her realm ... we, that is I and my warriors returned it to her. Whatever you may think gentlemen, Queen Dalcimon is still the monarch here and her son Andrar is her lawful successor.”
“But can she defend this land?” The younger emissary asked.
“Eventually ... yes! Just give her time. That is why I have called this moot. Dalcimon is a woman unlearned in war but that is of no consequence. My scribe has offered to work as her chamberlain and as to the military aspect, well; leave that to me gentlemen.”
The emissaries left somewhat chastened. Their chauvinistic tendencies firmly smothered by Drustina’s veiled warning. Whatever self interested Frankish ambitions they might have harboured were well and truly tamed. As they left they spoke to each other.
“The Queen Dalcimon has a keeper and the lock is stout.”
“Yes brother. I fear our hopes were a little too hopeful. That Lioness is a clever woman. It’s obvious now why her followers worship her. I only hope we can take back some treaty of substance to our king.”
“I thought that him being Dalcimon’s uncle would have endeared her to our entreaties.”
“She’s a thirty-year-old woman and it’s obvious that the Lionesses’ customs have rubbed off on her. She’s no longer the naive fourteen-year-old being led like a lamb to slaughter. That Chamberlain is a clever woman also. She has a sharp eye for detail and I wonder where an ex nun might have learned such commercial acumen.”
“A couple of years under The Lionesses’ tutelage I shouldn’t wonder. That’s where the skills lie. She’s not known as the lioness for nothing. I am forced to wonder about the military angle as well. What plan has she to defend Dalcimon’s kingdom?”
“I think she envisages a treaty between us, the Saxons and the Friesians.”
“And the Gauls don’t forget. That Urthos fellow sent a message to Gaul as well.”
“It’ll be a fragile deal if the Gauls are involved. Their king is ambitious.”
“And ours isn’t!?” The older emissary scoffed. “Why d’you think he sent us here but to grab what we can. This lioness is a proper sticking point.”
“A bon mott if ever I heard one. The point of her sword has stuck into many men.”
“Aye well all we can do now is wait until the Saxon and Friesian emissaries arrive. See what their ambitions are. Sometimes I feel we have a real live lioness protecting Dalcimon the lamb from the wolves! We Franks, Friesians, Saxons and Gauls being the wolves.”
“Well put comrade, shall we pay a private call on Queen Dalcimon? I think I see the Lioness going to the beach on that ship just leaving the dock.”
The emissaries found Dalcimon with Tara and the children. It was a peaceful domestic scene but it belied the wit beneath the seemingly womanly activity. Dalcimon turned as the emissaries approached.
“Well my countrymen. Welcome to our happy group. These are Drustina’s twins and the girls are my daughters.”
“May we speak privately Majesty?”
Dalcimon smiled, Drustina and Catherine had already forewarned her what to expect.
“Indeed gentlemen, what is it you wish to say?”
She led them to the stump and settled upon it just as Drustina would have sat. The new britches gave her the freedom to sit with her calf crossed over her other thigh and the posture more resembled a man’s sitting than a woman’s. Both emissaries found it hard to ignore the inviting curvaceous vee where the britches hugged her intimate parts.
Dalcimon smiled inwardly. ‘Men were so predictable. It was easy to lead them by their dicks!’
“So gentlemen, what do you wish to speak of?”
The older man managed to tear his eyes away from the delectable view and he croaked as he recovered his composure.
“We were speaking with Queen Drustina earlier and we discussed how to defend your realm against future Viking attacks. It seems to us that you will have very few forces if and when the Danish traders resume their voyage to Britannia.”
Dalcimon smiled enigmatically.
“Indeed gentlemen. Is not that what the forthcoming moot is about?”
The emissaries paused as they gathered their thoughts.
“Well, yes it is, but we were thinking it might be a good plan to build a similar Frankish base on the West bank of the estuary. Our idea would be to have two bases that will force any Viking raiders to divide their forces if they choose to attack.”
Dalcimon smiled again.
“It’s your riverbank gentlemen. The river is the border and always has been. My husband often wondered why you never showed more interest in that side.”
“It is a barren Salt marsh. When the high tides come the whole area is flooded with the sea and its salt. Little grows there.”
“Well it was the same circumstance on this side but my husband’s forbearers have worked constantly to improve the land. We have many miles now of flat fertile pasture. That’s why the Vikings sought to steal it. My husband’s people have worked hard for many generations to make pasture of salt marsh. Much of the work has involved back-breaking labour as river mud was transferred to marsh to raise the land and make it fertile. This mound was the latest venture. My husband planned to do exactly as Drustina and her band are now doing, although the trading dock was Drustina’s idea. She tells of a similar town in the Baltic where she had battle with Sister Catherine and after the pirate-nun’s defeat they built a jetty so that trading conditions could be bettered exactly as we do here now.
Surely,” Dalcimon continued, “would it not be better to first contribute to this town’s construction and then build a sister town on the opposite bank once Hoek is secure? Or do you somehow fear me and the Friesians? Is not my uncle your king? Am I not a Frank?”
The emissaries hesitated. They had expected to deal with a naive widow still grieving the death of her husband and fearful of being left destitute or worse, murdered by some ambitious thieving baron, probably a Frank. Instead they had met a woman who had just about the best military advisor in all Europe at her back, a woman now determined to hold on to her lands and looking as though she had the means to do it. The Frankish empire was not now looking like spreading across the River Rhinus into Friesia. The emissaries realised that they would be forced to adopt the fairer, negotiated route that the Lioness had already sketched out.
They, the emissaries of one of the most powerful kings in Northern Europe had been somehow outsmarted by the Lioness, a girl of just twenty five years. Being Franks and chauvinist Christians they had utterly failed to anticipate the subtle but powerful arguments of feminism that lay latent in most women's breasts. They would have to now wait until the Saxon and Friesian emissaries arrived to commence planning and negotiating to protect the whole Northern European coast from the Viking depredations. Dalcimon’s small queendom on the Eastern banks of the great Rhine delta now had a pivotal role in that plan and its strengths lay on the trading opportunities provided by the Rhine and its connections to the Scheldt coupled with a negotiated alliance between Franks, Saxons, Friesians and Gauls. An alliance formulated and convened by a young Celtic maid and enabled by a widowed Friesian minor queen.
Dalcimon had learned Drustina’s lessons well.
Three days later the Saxo-Friesian delegation arrived followed closely a day later by a hastily organised Gaulish delegation. The Gauls were astounded to find that their delayed arrival had not damaged their hoped for objectives because a determined twenty-five-year-old Celtic Maid had deliberately delayed the convention until all interested parties were present. The maid’s impartiality and even-handedness endeared her to all and her lesson in magnanimity was not lost on the widowed young hostess. At twenty-five, Drustina was already an old hand at formulating alliances and founding nations. Dalcimon’s small but vitally neutral queendom was a product of Drustina’s geopolitical neonativity.
The Lionesses’ reputation had risen yet another notch and spread another hundred leagues.
~~ooo000ooo~~
This is a chapter where Drustina passes her wisdom to older men and foreign emmisaries who have yet to prepare and sign 'The Treaty of Hoek'.
The Angry mermaid 65
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 65.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel.... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus.... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar .... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Chapter 65.
The morning after the arrival of the Gauls, Drustina convened the first moot. She cleverly arranged for Queen Dalcimon to have the primary position in order to reinforce to the four other nations the notion of her pivotal role in creating a functional defence against the Norsemen.
At first the negotiations went badly. Each party was more interested in their own circumstances and tended to myopia when it came to addressing the bigger picture. After two days of seeming deadlock, Dalcimon was becoming impatient with the lack of progress. It seemed the Norse invaders could return again before a single defensive preparation had been completed. On the morning of the third day she became exasperated.
“Gentlemen!” Dalcimon snapped angrily. “While you sit around this table chattering and yet achieving little, there are volunteers working on all sides to create some sort of viable, defence ... stone walls, strong gates! What I need in the short term are men at arms to man the walls ... once they are built!”
There was a rustle of discomfort around the circle until finally; one of the Frankish emissaries spoke slowly.
“How short a term?”
“How d’you mean?” Dalcimon demanded.”
The Frank explained.
“We would have to maintain a garrison in the town throughout the vikking season. That is the months when they can put their warships to sea to go raiding far and wide. That means the late spring, summer and early autumn and that is the time when crops are sown, grown and gathered. Every tribe needs it’s menfolk during those months. We would be hard pushed to maintain a garrison or even one fourth of one. It would have to be a large garrison so as to enable patrols to be despatched while yet maintaining a guard in the town. We need advance information of their approach and that means many patrols. Men are slow afoot in these marshes. The paths are muddy and in many places the marshes are treacherous. Our estimates suggest that a garrison of two or four thousand men at arms would be needed to mount a rapid and credible defence against a Viking raid. They arrive without warning and in large numbers.
The lioness herself declares that they fought six Viking warships and each ship had approximately a hundred men. That means they can land a force of thousands of men if they have more ships. What town can defend against such a horde? The garrison would need to exceed the whole population of Hoek. The logistics are a nightmare.”
There was a murmur of consensus and Dalcimon became frustrated. She threw her hands up in the air at the blanket of pessimism that seemed to envelope the whole meeting.
“Gentlemen, dammit! Are we simply to surrender the whole estuary to the Vikings without a contest?”
The meeting fell silent after her outburst. It seemed the Vikings had an infallible equation in their ability to hit hard and fast wherever and whenever they chose.
Drustina recognised a moment of theatre as the silence became oppressive. She slowly rose to her feet and waited as eyes turned expectantly. Having created her moment by remaining silent during the previous two days the emissaries were now keen to listen. After all, here was a warrior queen who had laid waste to six Viking ships. Drustina spoke softly for she knew it always behoved a woman to keep her voice low and talk softly when dealing with men.
“Well,” she paused for effect, “I think you have all recognised the nub of the problem and that is the mobility and speed the Viking raiders enjoy. Tell me gentlemen, what gives them that mobility?”
After a brief uncertainty several voices answered curiously; “Their ships.”
Drustina smiled and nodded as she continued.
“Exactly gentlemen, for two days I have listened patiently as you have talked at length about land-armies and the means to support them; land patrols and the difficulties marching through marshes, garrisons and their maintenance. It saddens me slightly that so far, not one of you has thought to tackle this threat BEFORE the Vikings can choose their landing place. Might I suggest you consider a waterborne force?”
After a pregnant silence Dalcimon spoke softly.
“D’you mean ships? Warships, like the Viking longships.”
Drustina nodded respectfully. It was a deliberate tactic of showing deference to Queen Dalcimon to reinforce her position as queen and sovereign of the estuarine realm.
“Exactly your majesty, ships, eventually a fleet of ships.”
After another pregnant silence one of the Friesian emissaries spoke up. Drustina sensed he was voicing everybody’s thoughts.
“But would not that be very expensive?”
Before Drustina could reply a second voice added.
“And a slow process; the Vikings could be back tomorrow!”
A general hubbub of agitated voices rose to a crescendo and Drustina struggled to bring order. Eventually, Carl’s deep measured voice brought the meeting to order. Carl did not suffer fools gladly.
“Listen! You fools. Listen to what her majesty Queen Drustina has to say. She has not finished yet!!!”
Eventually the babbling subsided as embarrassed faces turned attentively. Drustina drew a deep breath to emphasise her own impatience then she spoke calmly and in measured tones.
“Thank you Carl. I’ve a lot to get through and the last thing I need is to strain my voice every time I need to make myself heard. Right gentlemen here is what I suggest!”
Having finally achieved complete silence Drustina was able to talk softly with a lowered tone to her voice. She had long ago learned that a low, measured tone worked much better than a Harpies’ shriek when dealing with men,
“Now gentlemen; what I have to tell you is wisdom and fact going back to my first encounters with the Vikings when I was just a child of thirteen. I was one of twins, the youngest in a family of boat-builders who’s peaceful existence was shattered by the sudden and disastrous appearance of the Norsemen in what we Celts had always thought of as our personal sea. Within a decade whole cities and countries were first visited, then traded then invaded as these insatiable monsters sought to strip everything of value from our lands and take them back to their homes. That included slaves just as they were doing here when they captured Queen Dalcimon.
Their other tactic was to occupy the land as oppressors and overlords.
My own sisters were captured and destined for slavery but that’s another story. Suffice to say gentlemen, I was but a few summers old when the Vikings raided our home and I was extremely lucky to escape. In those days, we Celts had no answer to the sudden arrival of fast moving, well armed and powerful raiders on our beaches, up our creeks and into our harbours. Cymru is a small country and very mountainous. It does not support a large population so we were unable to maintain a standing army to meet the Viking threat. It would not have helped anyway, armies are slow to move around, and Viking ships are fast and powerful. They could strike anywhere, anytime but they were not after grain or land; they were seeking other riches. My country Cymru does have much mineral wealth. The Vikings came mainly to plunder our land of metals and maidens.
As I have said, I was a child then and knew nothing of war. It seemed to our scattered settlements that the Vikings appeared unstoppable; in fact the reality was worse, they were unstoppable ... utterly unstoppable! Just as in this last raid on Dalcimon’s realm, in my homeland the Vikings also appeared anywhere at any time and in overwhelming force. It is impossible to muster a sufficiently powerful army and meet them in the field. By the time the alarm is raised and the army mustered, the Vikings are gone with goods and women, whilst usually leaving the men dead.
You have already realised the unpalatable truth; the Vikings’ tactics are infallible, their ships are fast and deadly. Each ship can carry up to a hundred well armed warriors; a fleet can land an army!”
A fearful silence enveloped the meeting and Drustina deliberately paused to let her words take effect. After scanning the despondent expressions, she felt she had got their attention. It now remained to present her plan. She took a long laboured breath and finally explained.
“I mentioned just now that we must meet the Viking threat before it can materialise in force, before they can assemble on the beaches, before they can mount any sort of attack on the land.
You spoke earlier of the need to mount patrols; well in that you are all correct gentlemen. Intelligence is vital but that intelligence is almost useless if you cannot respond quickly. Now gentlemen the answer is seagoing patrols; consider this.
Seagoing patrols can spot a fleet a long way offshore. If our patrols are several miles offshore that means the Viking attacks will be detected much earlier thus they will have many miles to reach the shore and they will have to cross the gap at speed. Once they realise they have been spotted, a hard, urgent row will land them ashore tired and exhausted. What’s more our patrols will know where they have landed and once the Vikings are ashore, they will have to move slowly because they are heavily armed men. They walk much slower than their ships can sail.
The other advantage to water-born patrols is rapid communications over much greater distances. A fire arrow piercing the sky is a signal that is visible for many miles from one patrol ship to another. In a marshy forest men are invisible after a few hundred yards. Any information has to be conveyed on foot or on horseback through the trees. From a ship, that same signal arrow fired from a forest watchtower can again be seen many miles inland. Watch towers are cheap and easy to man.
So there gentlemen, you have your detection and intelligence much advanced and much improved. That is half the battle won. The next part is the more difficult but it is not insurmountable.
I come now to the response to a Viking attack.
Firstly I would explain how we managed to defeat the last raiding party. The main secret is the speed, manoeuvrability and smallness of our ships. That coupled with the obstructive size and bulk of the Danish Merchantmen enabled us to select our Viking victims and pick our moments to attack One of the trading captains among the Danish merchant-ships, knows these waters like a native because he has traded here for several years. He has local knowledge of the shoals and the currents so we were able to pick our location to fight the Vikings.
Gentlemen, if you have permanent patrols in and around the estuary, not to mention just offshore. The captains will quickly learn the natures of the shoals and the currents hereabouts. Am I making sense so far?”
There was a general murmur of agreement until one of the Gauls spoke up.
“But who is to build a fleet of ships; and so quickly as well?”
Drustina wagged her head.
“There is no need to worry about building the first ships. You already have a nucleus of six viking ships that we confiscated from the Vikings after we defeated them."
Dalcimon turned sharply at this news and gasped.
“But they are your ships! You won those fair and square in battle!”
Once again Drustina wagged her head.
“No. They are of little use to me. For one thing, my little ships are faster; for another thing, I have not the men to crew such ships. For that I would need six hundred men to man the six ships. Those are some of the biggest and fastest Viking long-ships I have ever seen and in another circumstance and in another battle they would have served my ends but now as I make my way home to my own land they would be a liability. They are warships and even thought they are good sea ships, they would struggle to make way in the wild winter storms of my western seas. They are for fast attacks and speed in calmer, summer seas.
When these raiders landed here it was mid spring and they meant business. I suspect they intended to settle here. Despite the marshy areas, the land is rich. Any man could do well for himself provided he is of a mind to work and bring the land into good hart.”
There was a murmur of approval at these last words and Drustina suddenly found an idea forming in her fertile mind. For the moment though, there were more pressing issues like protecting Dalcimon’s realm. She pressed on with the navy idea and finally turned to Dalcimon.
“So your majesty, I will make a gift of the six longships to you and while these Danish merchantmen and my comrades continue building the town wall, I will devote my time to building you a ship like my Angry Mermaid. Your devotees can then use it as a template. The timber can come from the woodlands hereabouts as men clear more land to put to the plough.”
Having demonstrated her generosity, Drustina then invited the tribal emissaries to make their contributions to the agreements. The representatives were not slow to recognise the advantages of a successful city and trading centre where several of the major rivers of their continent entered into the Northern Sea. It behoved each tribe to have a representation within an enterprise that held such promise. By the end of the week a series of agreements had been made. Sister Catherine was writing them up and Queen Dalcimon was studying them. She was impressed by the detail and discussed the agreements with Sister Catherine.
“There is a lot of stuff here; I never realised Drustina knew so much.”
“She’s had a lot of experience Dalcimon. Those titles she holds did not come easily. I was amazed how she dealt with the disputes and objections the emissaries raised.”
“But she is so young. I watched her dealing with the emissaries. She reminded me of our Lord Jesus confounding the priests in the temple of Jerusalem.”
Sister Catherine grimaced thoughtfully.
“Uuhm, I wouldn’t let Drustina uuuhhm hear you comparing her to Jesus.”
Dalcimon’s eyes widened wonderingly.
“Oh! Why?”
“Well uuhm, I shouldn’t tell you this but Drustina has had some bad experiences with bishops. She doesn’t much hold with the new faith but she doesn’t talk much about it. If I were you I’d not raise the issues of the new faith and don’t forget, she’s travelled through the holy lands. Drustina knows more than most about the land of Jesus but she still doesn’t talk about it. Just don’t go there with her. It was Carl and Eric who told me about her many journeys. Drustina never talks of them but she remembers the lessons she has learned from her travels like they were yesterday. Ipso facto, her acumen with the treaty she has drawn up between you and the tribes. You have to admit. She covered a lot of ground.”
“Yes. She was impressive.”
A pregnant silence ensued as Dalcimon tried to digest Sister Catherine’s words. Sister Catherine sensed that Dalcimon had an issue with Drustina’s seeming paganism.
During the weekend, Drustina excused herself from any duties and chose to go riding with her children and sister Tara. It was good to feel Seripatese’s powerful flanks between her legs again. Many times, Drustina and Seripatese led the others in a brief gallop whenever they came to open country. Usually such country was farmland but the Vikings had denuded the land of men to till the soil. Drustina seized the opportunity to instil in her children a hatred of the Vikings as they encountered many male bodies already half eaten by the foxes and dogs and pigs that now occupied the once rich farms.
“See children. Look around you at the dead men. This is what the Vikings do when they meet with the slightest resistance. Never give a Viking quarter for it is always his ambition to kill his enemies or die in combat himself. He kills the men and steals the women.”
When the Monday came around, the many hands were organised into securing the town of Hoek and refurbishing the six longships.
Drustina’s fleet of fast light ships were used to set patrols and train men to handle ships. Carl and Urthos took this task upon themselves while Eric busied himself with organising the town’s defences.
Drustina and Horam took to building the first fast ‘Mermaid’ class of ship to form the second wing of Dalcimon’s new navy. On the Tuesday, the emissaries made their farewells and took home copies of the treaty to their various chiefs and kings. Dalcimon stood with Eric, Catherine and Drustina as they watched them depart.
“D’you think they will honour the treaty; all of them that is?” Dalcimon wondered.
Drustina shrugged.
“By the time any single tribe has gathered enough forces to break the treaty of the five countries; the others will have got wind of the plans. News travels fast when ships are light and speedy. And you will have a lot of Mermaid class ships before this year is done.”
“How so?” Dalcimon asked.
“I have treated with the Danish trading master. He is making a single voyage to the Icieni tribe in Dane-law on my account. There he will buy hard oak timbers to build better ships for you. Horam has the skills and also the tools he traded from Svenska. You will benefit much by having him train your apprentices. He will build you an excellent fleet.”
Dalcimon frowned briefly.
“Am I to deduce from your words that you will be leaving us?”
"Once Hoek is secure and I am satisfied you have enough ships to serve your realm’s defence, then yes I will.
“I wish I could keep just a handful of your men to see me and my womenfolk through this coming winter.”
Drustina released an earthy laugh and grinned at Eric knowingly. Dalcimon caught the interplay and asked.
“Where’s the comedy?”
Drustina explained.
“When my men joined me in the Bulgar wars it was a foregone conclusion that if we won those battles, these men would continue travelling home with me. Some were my original companions and freemen others were Emperor Leon’s slaves.
We all agreed that we would be free to part company when we finally arrived in the Northern Sea. The men who choose to travel further with me are mainly the northern warriors who were enslaved by the Emperor Leon. I won an agreement from the emperor that if we defeated the Bulgars all the men who joined my band would become freemen. There are Gauls, and Celts and Saxons and Frisians and Franks among them but all have stood shoulder to shoulder with me in our battles. They long ago learned to put aside tribal enmities and stay together as one loyal band.
Now we have arrived in this northern sea, the Saxons and Friesians will probably choose to return to their homes though many are technically homeless. It has always their intention to return to their Saxon homes when we reached these waters. I’m quite sure that some of my homeless Saxon men will be willing to take over the farms and the widows whom we rescued from slavery. Furthermore, many of the men who married the Sister Catherine’s nuns will be looking for places to put down roots. My sweet lady Dalcimon, have no fears; I am sure that many of these men and their attractive intelligent wives will be only too pleased to become citizens of Hoek and help you rebuild your shattered community. Furthermore, they are all tried and proven warriors in addition to having their various journeyman skills before the originally left their homes. What is more they are Saxons and brothers in blood to your Frisian neighbours. They even speak the same language so your neighbours will find no cause for enmity. Their own people are but two days further up this great river. That is the best I can offer you dear Queen, my resources are necessarily small.”
Drustina reached out and squeezed Dalcimon’s shoulder as a tear escaped the Frankish lady’s eye.
“You have done more than I could have hoped for. I am forever indebted to you. Whatever I have is yours.”
“All I want is that you treat all your new citizens with respect and equality. They are every-one of them freemen and freewomen. If they offer you their fealty you must return the favour with justice and respect for their free-men rights. Believe me Dalcimon if you win the respect of my comrades ... note I call them comrades for that’s what they are to me, then you will enjoy some of the tightest allegiances and loyalties a queen can ask for.”
Dalcimon looked up into Drustina’s cold grey eyes and marvelled at the unexpected compassion. She chewed her lip thoughtfully before observing.
“You are a remarkable woman Drustina. To have seen so much, done so much, travelled so much and fought so much. I would have expected a hard-hearted, demanding general; but no, instead I see a woman full of compassion, a builder, a planner, a conciliator. After the hardships you have endured ... and your scars tell me they have been many, I am amazed you have any softness, any kindness left to give.
For one so loving and yet so strong and brave, I cannot understand why you are so much at odds with Jesus and his bishops; his disciples. What awful torment must you have endured that so set you against Jesus’ teachings?”
Drustina gave a long sigh as she fought with the devils inside her. After a thoughtful pause, she almost decided to reveal her duality but then decided against it. The hurts she had endured at the hands of Christian bishops had left scars even deeper than Blue-face’s sword. As the debate swung back and forth in Drustina’s head, Dalcimon waited expectantly. Then Drustina’s fearful anger won the argument and Drustina decided not to reveal her duality.
‘Christians always seemed to see it as some sort of flaw, some sort of weakness ... some sort of ungodly curse They just could not see that it gave Drustina a dual perspicacity that enabled her to see further and understand more than many, many other leaders.’
She knew there was no need to make any revelations for she would be gone before the Summer was over. Sailing Westwards again in her ceaseless endeavours to win back her childhood home. For the remaining months of that Summer, Drustina pitched in to help with every aspect of building and developing a successful trading city at Hoek.
~~ooo000ooo~~
In this chapter, Drustina experiences her first pre-prepared and planned engagement with the Vikings. Andrar, the young heir to the Freisian throne has his first terrifying experience of battle.
The Angry Mermaid 66.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 66.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana... . The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... . Old Fisherman.
Mutas... . Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar... . Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun... . Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan & Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar ..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Chapter 66.
It was a mid September evening and Drustina stood atop the watchtower of Hoek sharing a quiet moment with Carl. He had just returned from another mission up the river to the Saxon heartlands and eventually his own village. As they stood together, Carl related his experiences.
“After I had entreated with the king he told me of the disasters that had befallen the region where my village stood. I found my village, or what was left of it; the harvest had failed five years on the trot and my people were forced to seek food elsewhere. The Harvest had been bad throughout that part of Saxony and many of my people had decided to leave - to find better lands elsewhere.”
“But I don’t understand.” Drustina replied. “You always told me your lands were rich and bountiful.”
“They were; they are again but those five consecutive years of famine did untold destruction. All our stores of grain were used up. My people were scattered to the four winds for they thought the loss of seasons to be permanent and their lands forever cursed. The farms have since been claimed by carpet-baggers who moved in when the rains returned. I only recognised a couple of old familiar faces and those were old women. They tell me that my father died of starvation because he refused to relinquish his land. He always was a stubborn bully. That’s one of the reasons I left. He and I could never get on once I came of age. One of the old women told me where he was buried and I went there but felt nothing.”
“So what of your brother and your sisters? You say they left.”
“I’m not completely sure where they went. The king says that many of them took the road west to your Island of Britannia but in truth much of Saxony was in disorder as starving people scattered to find food. The king and his council called the drought ‘The end of Seasons’.”
Drustina frowned but tempered her reply. It seemed her beloved Britannia was destined to be forever cursed with invading peoples.
“Huh! More Saxon invaders I suppose. I can’t say as I’m enamoured of that circumstance.”
Carl fell silent then ventured a nervous question.
“If my family have gone to Britannia, will that make me your enemy?”
It was Drustina’s turn to fall into a thoughtful silence then she squeezed his wrist before replying.
“We could hardly be enemies could we? We have twist and fought against common enemies for fully nine years. We have guarded each other’s backs with the points of our swords for times without number.
Besides, my own personal fight is with the Vikings; they are the butchers who slaughtered my family and possibly sold my older brothers into slavery. I have no idea if any of my brothers are alive or dead.”
She shrugged and wagged her head despondently as she continued.
“They are simply missing. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for them but it was the Vikings who caused their disappearance and I’ll never forgive them. Anyway, one European tribe to have as an enemy is enough for any girl!”
Carl smiled and sighed, partly with relief and partly because of long held affections.
“Thank the gods for that. My worst nightmare would be to find myself facing you across some godforsaken battlefield. To face a brilliant general and a best friend at the same time is just too ghastly to contemplate.”
He spread his hands unthinkingly but Drustina misinterpreted his action. She stepped towards him squeezed between his arms and turned into his surprised embrace. As she stood with her back snuggled into his powerful chest, Carl embraced her and wondered what was happening. Lost for words he continued talking about his family and explained.
“If I cannot find them, I have no family. Truly I will miss my sisters.”
Both of them stared out to the western sunset, the direction that both of them knew they must next travel. Drustina asked as she snuggled tighter into Carl’s embrace.
“What of your brother?”
Carl held his leader even tighter as he replied.
“I have greater fears for him. He was a gentle lad, more cerebral than martial. The gods alone know where he might have ended up. At least he had letters.”
“Then he might have entered a monastery or an abbey,” Drustina offered.
“If he has, he must have finally succumbed to our father’s bullying.”
“Or the priest’s lies.” Drustina offered.
“D’you think they lie then?” Carl wondered.
Drustina thought back to the evil Bishop Alviar of Carthage who had plotted to kill Drustina purely on the basis of her duality. Drustina had read his book from cover to cover and nowhere had she found mention of duality let alone how it should be addressed. It was Alviar’s malice that had forever turned Drustina away from the priests and their deceptions. She asked Carl.
“What do you think of the priests?”
Carl shrugged.
“I didn’t see much of them as a kid.”
“Where the priests much about before you left home?”
“Not really,” Carl replied. “They were mostly in the king’s court and the bigger cities. We in our villages had little to do with them.”
“But when you went back, I’ll wager the priests where everywhere.”
“Uuuuhhm ... yes, now you mention it, they were.”
Drustina nodded and Carl asked.
“Why d’you ask.”
“Oh I just thought. Wherever I have met these priests they preach hellfire and damnation. Every disaster is deemed some sort of punishment sent from their god, their all powerful god, their one god. Even the floods that happen almost every year, they claim to have been sent by their god as some sort of punishment. It’s rubbish, the floods are caused by the snow in the mountains melting. If anything causes floods it’s ironically the sun not the rain. The sun melts the mountain snows that adds to the normal rain. The rivers can’t hold the extra water and they flood.
I’ll bet you the priests probably told your people that the end of seasons was a punishment from their new god. They know how to grab an opportunity and the trouble in your lands was so unusual I suppose many people listened and started to worship this new god.”
“You’ve thought a lot about these priests haven’t you Dru?”
“Are you surprised after that brute Alviar?”
“Mmmm, not really, you’ve every reason to hate them. You’ve never been cruel, even when fighting in the heat of battle; and nobody can question your bravery or honesty. That’s why the men follow you so loyally; you’re thoughtful, brave and honest.”
Drustina blushed then giggled and finally started convulsing with laughter before she recovered her composure.
“That sums you up Carl, you know how to turn a woman’s head don’t you. No mention of beauty or compassion, nothing about my golden hair or ripe breasts, oh no, not my favourite general. Bravery, honesty and leadership; are those the talents you would look for in a woman. Is that why I’m so fond of you I ask myself?”
It was Carl’s turn to turn red with surprised embarrassment.
“Dru! I never thought. Is that true, you’re fond of me?”
Drustina sensed she might have revealed a little too much and she backtracked. Not too far though, because she had to admit to herself, she did hold a soft spot for Carl.
“I’m fond of all my men Carl, especially the old guard, my oldest comrades.”
“But you just said I’m your favourite general. Is that true?”
Drustina turned and stared boldly in to his intense blue eyes.
“Yes, you are. Will you come west with me? We have similar tasks.”
“Yes, yes of course I will. I thought we’d already agreed to that.”
“I needed to hear you say it.”
“Well you’ve heard it, come on I’m feeling hungry.”
Drustina smiled inwardly again. ‘Men would be forever slaves to their stomachs.’
~O~
For the rest of that month Drustina flung herself into training the new sailors and inspecting Horam’s shipbuilding activities. She engaged in daily sea patrols to teach the men the importance of patience and vigilance when anticipating Viking raids, or the more likely scouting parties, as Viking ships slipped into hidden creeks to gather intelligence. Twice, their night-time patrols intercepted moonlit probes and successfully defeated them, in one instance stranding the Viking ship by pursuing it onto a dangerous sand bank. It was a useful lesson to the new sailors as they learned the importance of knowing their local waters. In the second incident they captured a very useful small Viking long-ship that had been especially designed to probe into shallow creeks and be readily manhandled on and off open beaches. The design of the captured ship told Drustina that the Viking king was keen to gather intelligence and therefore definitely planning another attack. Her immediate response was to despatch envoys to hurry the tribes into providing extra troops to Garrison Hoek.
They arrived in ‘dribs-and-drabs’ as various chiefs were able to release men from the all important harvest duties. Once they were gathered in sufficient numbers, Drustina was able to let Eric, Urthos and Carl knock them into shape as she continued training the increasingly important sea patrols. By the end of the month she was pleased to advise Dalcimon that she had upwards of twenty fighting ships at her disposal. The six longships she had originally captured, the smaller ‘spying-longship’ the night patrols had captured, her own fast manoeuvrable fleet of six ships plus two new ships Horam had completed. Drustina was very impressed at the way Horam had learned new techniques using Svensk iron tools. The two new ships were excellent copies of ‘The Angry Mermaid.’ The remainder of the fleet was made up of a ‘hotchpotch’ of assorted ships sent by the various tribes as and where they could. Their different designs added flexibility to the fleet that Drustina exploited with all the imagination and knowledge that her hard earned experiences lent her. At the end of October, she felt they were ready to face a late attack.
~O~
Drustina, Dalcimon and her captains were actually preparing for an exercise when news arrived of the approach of the Viking fleet. With great luck they were able to respond with speed and they were quickly arranged in the defensive formations even before the Vikings had passed the first sandbanks.
Drustina and her captains smiled with satisfaction as they realised the Viking fleet had attacked at low tide so that they would be able to see the normally submerged perils of the numerous shoals and sand bars. Apparently, a few survivors of the probing longship had managed to get back and describe the hidden but certain dangers of trying to sail over sand bars at high tide. No matter how high the tide, there were always some sandbars lying less than a couple of feet below the water. Moon-lit attacks were therefore proscribed and any attacks would have to be arranged during morning low tides.
As they arranged their defences in a predetermined order, Drustina smiled at Carl.
“That’s their first mistake comrade ... attacking at low water. The exposed sandbars and shoals will cramp their manoeuvrability and constrain the numbers of ships they can bring to bear. The sand bars will serve the same purpose as the Danish traders did last time. How many ships have you counted?”
“There’s thirty six.” Carl replied.
“That’s what I made it, thirty six to our twenty odd. Let’s hope we destroy a few before they get into the estuary proper where the water’s deeper. We’ve got eight mermaid class craft so we’re going to have our work cut out in the initial stages. You take the north passage, Eric can slip through the centre and Urthos can take the south. I’ll play the decoy, the wounded duck as it were.”
“D’you think they’ll fall for that trick again? Urthos asked. “If those survivors did get away they’ll be alert to the danger. One thing is for certain. They’ll have heard all about the Angry Mermaid and her speed. It’s known the length and breadth of the Northern Sea.”
“We’ll just have to try it and find out. That’s why I’m taking Mermaid right out beyond the shoals to meet them. If they don’t despatch a couple of ships to attack a seemingly easy prey, we’ll know that they know about the Mermaid.”
“And if they do know about her speed what then?” Eric added.
“We go to plan B, harry them amongst the shoals and pick off the strays. They can’t all mass their forces, there’s not enough sea-room.”
“That was the second phase anyway,” Carl observed.
“Exactly,” Drustina nodded. “You now understand the advantages we hold. Each of our captains knows how plan B works and they all understand these waters like the backs of their hands. We eight mermaid ships can split their forces and cross over sand bars too shallow for their ships.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Carl asked as he set course with his two Mermaid class ships to reach the furthest passage between the north and central shoals.
Drustina nodded affirmation to Urthos and Eric who immediately made for their assigned positions while the main fleet made their way to the entrance of the deepest channel where they had the most sea-room to obstruct the invading fleet without themselves facing a massed attack. The Viking fleet simply could not mass it’s forces in the narrow channels. Thus the defending forces would not get engaged in a blow for blow attrition which they would be certain to lose. Drustina watched from her stern as part of their outnumbered fleet dispersed into the known channels and deeps that meandered through the main shoals. Despite using all the cunning she could muster, Drustina knew with a sickening certainty that the battle would inevitably degenerate into a blow-for-blow brawl when the invaders finally made it into the estuary proper. She could only hope to have destroyed at least five or preferably ten Viking ships by the time they had picked their way through the winding channels.
The scene was set and Drustina finally turned to her particular task of stinging the Viking fleet into pursuing her into the trap. Beside her stood Dalcimon’s fifteen-year-old son Andrar, the future king of West Friesia. Drustina smiled as she sensed his fear.
“Feeling cold Andrar?”
He nodded quickly, too quickly and Drustina replied sympathetically to reassure the lad.
“So am I lad, and I’ve seen plenty of battles. Stay at my side. I don’t expect to have to face the wolves until we have reduced their numbers but one can never know. The best laid plans of battle rarely survive first contact. Remember this above all else.
Battles are won by wit not force. Stay beside me and I’ll try and explain my actions as we fight, side by side. If we make it through this fight you will have won your spurs and the respect of your subjects. Take heart and don’t be fool-hardy.”
Andrar smiled wanly and fingered his sword. Drustina smiled again and then pointed to her Viking target.
“Look at those fools pulling like demons as though they want to be the first to strike the blow. They are probably Berserkers, have you heard of them?”
Andrar nodded.
“Yes. The bravest and strongest warriors who fight like demons. Are you really going to fight with them?”
“No of course not, well not immediately. I’m going to trick them into pursuing me and then lead them to disaster. Do you see our land-marks?”
“Yes. You have aligned the watch towers with the Gaulish galley. Ah, I see now, that’s why you had the captain anchor it. It’s a fixed marker!”
“Exactly and that means the black-fish shoal is just there.”
She pointed to the faintest of ripples and Andrar wondered. Drustina explained.
"If I go out to seaward, and sting the berserker’s nose, they’re bound to get enraged and chase me. It’s in the nature of berserkers; they get in a rage then fight like bears. Anger them and they tend to lose reason and act without thinking. See how theirs is one of the biggest and heaviest ships. The king will have placed most of his berserkers into that ship to act as a shock wave and spread terror amongst us. It’s one of the Viking’s favourite tactics. Now watch and learn. The Black-fish shoal is one of the few rocky outcrops on the sea-bed hereabouts. Once I have it in line with me, the Gaul and the Watch tower I will attack the berserkers with fire arrows. They won’t like that and I’m betting they’ll lose their reason and pursue us. That’s my plan, simple or what?”
“Will it work?”
“I don’t know Andrar; those are the fortunes of war.”
By now the berserkers were in arrow range and Drustina gave a simple signal to her battle trained men.
“Fire for accuracy, try and pick off any clear targets, but don't shoot the helmsman.”
Then she turned to Andrar.
“Take the tiller lad and steer directly towards them. At this point, my bow is needed more than my navigation.”
Andrar’s eyes widened with surprise at the sudden burden of responsibility. He hesitated for a moment but Drustina turned to reassure him after she had fired her first fire arrow.
“Don’t be frightened lad. I’ll tell you when to turn and run. See my arrow reached them but it is too far to be accurate. We need to get nearer; oh, and hold your shield to your shoulder. We can’t have our helmsman getting killed by their first salvo. You’ll be their prime target. Don’t worry; look those two comrades are coming now from their thwarts to shield you.”
Andrar quickly hefted his shield to his shoulder as the two sailors stood beside him to protect him from the incoming arrows. It was not a moment too soon. The berserker arrows whistled in and two arrows thunked into the shield wall protecting Andrar. Drustina had already dropped below the rail and nocked her second fire arrow. Once again she explained as she took aim.
“They’re firing massed arrows, more fool them. It works against slow, unarmed merchant ships but not against fast warships where every man has at least one shield and sometimes two to protect him. See how my men form a ‘turtle; it’s an old Roman trick I learned in Byzantium.”
She watched her fire arrow streak across the gap between the ships and grunted with satisfaction as it found it’s mark ... the giant poser standing proud in the bow and bellowing encouragement to the rowers.
“That’ll shut him up, bloody bag of wind. Right Andrar, steer a parallel course for a while until I tell you to turn.”
The boy peeped out from behind his protective shield and lined the Angry Mermaid up perfectly. Drustina added her encouragement to the boy’s two protectors.
“Good lad, now hold it steady while we get a chance to show those bastards what real bowmen can do. Remember lads! Don’t shoot their helmsman; we need him to chase us!”
The Mermaid’s crew picked their moments and Drustina had the satisfaction of seeing at least ten berserkers being struck. She hadn’t fired again because she was watching the reaction on the berserker’s ship. A roar of rage erupted across the water and many berserkers turned to admonish their helmsman. Drustina nodded with a knowing satisfaction, ‘discipline was not a strong point amongst crazy men enraged by a blood-lust’.
An argument broke out amongst the berserkers and immediately the giant ship swung towards them bent upon pursuit. Half the berserkers bent to the oars while the others rained down salvo after salvo onto Drustina’s well shielded men. None were struck for they had learned their lessons well years earlier in battles all over Christendom. After watching her approaching transit, Drustina waited until the marks nearly intercepted then she called to Andrar.
“Now!! Starboard until your marks are in line then go like hell!”
Andrar needed no second bidding; the berserker ship was perilously close. As the young lad hauled hard on the tiller he heard a veritable tattoo of arrows thunking against his guard’s heavy shields and he felt truly grateful for their protection. He smiled at the two men and realised he had learned his first lesson in soldiering. ‘You protect me and I’ll protect you!’
Once the Angry mermaid was on a broad reach she showed the pursuing Viking ship a clean pair of heels despite the berserkers rowing like maniacs. When they escaped out of arrow range, Drustina emerged from behind the side rail to speak with the young prince Andrar.
“Well there you are lad. Your first bit of battle experience, how d’you feel?”
The lad hesitated as he exchanged looks with the two men who had shielded him as he steered. They grinned supportively then nodded assent for him to speak.
“Go on lad; say it as you found it.”
Andrar hesitated then confessed.
“Well — well I was frightened when the arrows started raining down but once I realized the shields protected me it was quite exciting.”
Drustina exchanged knowing looks with her two comrades then she smiled.
“That was the easy part Andrar. It’ll get hotter but at least you didn’t panic and you obeyed my orders to the letter. That’s a good thing, disobedience and panic often gets young warriors killed. You did right to listen and obey orders. That way, you’ll grow old enough and wise enough to one day issue orders yourself. Now continue like this and keep the anchored Gaul directly in line with the watch tower. We’ll slow our speed down so they can keep us in their sights.”
The young prince positively beamed with satisfaction and returned his attention to keeping the Mermaid on course. Drustina was looking aft at the pursuing berserker ship. Then she spoke to Andrar again.
“Just look at those fools, rowing like ... well; rowing like berserkers. Bloody lunatics; there’s no other way to describe them. They are so angry they have lost all sense of reason ... and caution. See now, they have ceased firing arrows and every man has bent to the oars in the effort to overtake us. If they follow at that speed, their ship will tear her bottom out on ‘The Blackfish’; which is exactly what we want.” She finished with a satisfied smile.
Andrar turned to watch the frenzied rowing of the pursuing berserker longship and noted a little nervously that it seemed to be gaining on them. He turned to describe his concerns to Drustina.
“They are catching us.”
Drustina smiled reassurance.
“Yes, that is our plan. The closer they get, the more frenzied they will get and the harder they will row. Hopefully they will drive themselves hard up on the blackfish shoal. More importantly, they will have exhausted themselves with rowing. Tired men are easier to defeat in hand to hand combat. Watch your course line now; you’re drifting a little down wind. Bring her up a bit.”
Andrar quickly adjusted the rudder and Drustina smiled with satisfaction. Her smile encouraged the young lad.
The Angry mermaid raced on for a few more minutes until Drustina noted the feint trace of eddies as the shallow current swirled over the Black-fish rock. She nodded to Andrar.
“See there. The shoal stretches for a mile east and west of our course. Those crazy idiots will be aground before they see the danger.”
Andrar watched tensely as he noted a stronger eddy indicating a particularly shallow patch. He continued watching whilst mesmerised with concentration then the Mermaid swerved in her flight as the swirl turned her. He felt an extra hand on the tiller as Drustina added her expert skill.
“Steady lad, we don’t want her to reveal the eddies too soon, for that will warn them of the rocks. Watch your head like a hawk and watch the waters for cross flows. The less we swing about, the less they’ll notice.”
Andrar smiled as he felt Drustina’s added, knowledge and strength anticipate the actions of the eddies and help to correct The Angry Mermaid’s head. Simultaneously, her explanation gave her supervision a sense of care not criticism. Soon they were past the strongest eddies and both turned to watch their pursuers. Drustina frowned for the Viking longship was slightly off the highest point of rock but it looked as though it would still strike the shoal.
Even as they watched, they both saw the mast of the longship give a mighty judder as the bow reared up with a satisfying grind of splintering planks.
“Good!” Drustina squealed with evident relief and satisfaction. “Now Andrar; now you’ll earn your spurs! Bring her about and we’ll make ready to pump arrows into her.”
By now even the fifteen-year-old prince could understand the gist of the plan. Now was the time to pump arrows into the berserker’s ship while they were tired, preoccupied and in danger. Drustina explained further.
"Firstly we’ll attack with arrows while she’s stranded and the other ships cannot approach for fear of also stranding. We can sail rings around her whilst picking off choice targets. We aim for the biggest and strongest of them. Go on lad, take her closer and get behind your shield wall.”
Andrar brought her tight around and took her on the opposite course on the opposite tack. Soon, the Mermaid’s crew were selecting specific targets whilst taking aim from behind their combined shields. Whilst the berserkers were preoccupied with the bow, Drustina whispered some instructions to a group of men in the stern sheets before she put down her bow and rejoined Andrar at the tiller.
“We’re going in close now lad. Do exactly as I say.”
Andrar watched as Drustina and her chosen few suddenly stood up from behind their shields as the rest of the crew commenced pouring flight after flight of arrows to suppress the enemy’s fire. As the mermaid almost grazed the berserkers stern, two men heaved a grappling hook over the berserkers rail and Drustina yelled to Andrar.
“Now lad, bring her round and we’ll give the buggers a good wrench to bring her stern around and twist the broken planks to enlarge the hole and put her stern in deeper water. That way most of them will be up to their necks in water and easy meat for our swords.”
Andrar felt a thrill of excitement as he sensed victory to be close but Drustina’s next order sent a sickening nausea pulsing though his vitals.
“Right men! Take no prisoners! Kill them all, make it swift and merciless!”
Andrar shouted.
“But you can’t kill helpless men, they’re drowning!”
He paled when Drustina turned to glare at him with eyes blazing and a mask of hatred distorting her normally beautiful features. Andrar had never seen such a malignance; it both terrified him and sickened him. Drustina spoke with a soft blood-curdling menace.
“D’you think this is a game lad! They’d kill you as soon as look at you!”
“But! But they’re helpless!”
“Not all of them lad, look there, already two have managed to board us. There are a hundred giants to our ordinary twenty. Get ready to cut the grapple, there must be no survivors. It’s us or them lad and already, I see four more have joined their cronies on our bow.”
Andrar at long last began to grasp the seriousness of the danger. He steered away from the grounded longship and while this caused the stern to twist on the reef and settle into deeper water, it also brought the Mermaid perilously close to the berserker’s ship as the stern canted towards the heavier, waterlogged ship. Several more berserkers were poised to leap from their sinking stern onto the smaller Mermaid and Drustina only saw the peril in time. She leapt across the poop and slashed the grapple rope with her sword to release the Mermaid from her deadly tether. It worked partially but four berserkers managed to leap across the gap before the Mermaid was clear. Suddenly, Drustina, one of the shield’smen and Andrar found themselves confronting four colossal, enraged giants.
“Fuck!” Drustina cursed as she and her comrade leapt so confront the giants.
Andrar watched frozen for an instant as he watched the four giants give a roar of pleasure and rush forward to butcher the tormentors who had wrought such destruction on their comrades.
Drustina’s sword flashed free and made a useful strike against one of the giant’s bare arms. It was enough for the enraged four to realise they were up against real sword’s-men and not clumsy farmers co-opted to defend their town at short notice. They hesitated long enough for Drustina to inflict another wound on a second berserker but her comrade’s effort only precipitated an injury to his shoulder. His curse distracted Drustina who had to step quickly sideways to protect him as the fourth berserker joined his comrades in a concerted attack.
There followed some furious fighting as steel clashed with steel. Drustina’s skills were tested to the limit and she was forced to abandon her protection of her injured comrade. Frantically she danced and skipped about the poop like a possessed monkey as her sword finally disabled two berserkers. Unfortunately, she eventually found herself cornered as the two remaining giants grinned evilly.
“Now you die bitch!” The larger one gloated as his companion smirked.
“She’d have made a good screw Forten, pity she’s such a bitch. D’you want the pleasure or shall I?”
“You’ve not killed me yet arseholes!” Drustina snarled as she glanced beseechingly at the young Andrar cowering behind the shields by the tiller and still un-noticed by the berserkers.
As she stood ready to face her end, the berserkers both raised their swords and lunged forward. Drustina deliberately fell sideways and managed to pierce one Viking in the belly but before she could recover her sword, his momentum carried him onto her and she found herself pinned by his immense weight. Frantically she scrabbled for her dagger as the last berserker prepared to plunge his sword into the trapped harpy who had killed his comrades. Drustina lay helpless.
~~ooo000ooo~~
In this chapter Drustina's ideas about defeating the Vikings out on the sea before they can land, are proven to work.
The young Prince Andrar finally wins his spurs. He comes of age quickly as he learns that war is not some glorious adventure but a frightening, dirty, dangerous business.
The Angry mermaid 67
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 67.
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn... The twin’s father.
Herenoie... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan Drustina’s twin children.
and
Amethyst... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon ... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar ... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Chapter 67.
When facing her certain death, Drustina had always thought she would be terrified; but to her surprise she found herself first calm, then angry. Instead of crying in fear, she released a scream of defiance as she thought of the beloved land she would never now see or reclaim again.
She could move her chest and shoulders but the dead weight of the huge Viking pinned her at the waist and thighs. In frustration she cursed her nemesis.
“Lleyn am Bydd! Lleyn am Bydd! ... Lleyn forever, Lleyn forever!!”
With these words, she managed to whip her dagger from behind her shoulder but the berserker was alert to the danger. He simply stepped back out of arm’s reach and grinned with evil delight. His intention was to play with his victim before despatching her ... to torment her and make her passing as painful as possible. He was too well armoured for a thrown dagger to do much harm and he knew it. He roared with pleasure as he pricked her and nicked his mighty blade into her breast just to demonstrate his total superiority. Drustina snarled defiance in the feint hope that she might provoke him into delivering a swift, fatal strike.
“Your spells won’t protect you this time you sorceress bitch! This time you die!”
So saying he grasped his huge sword with both hands to hold it vertically, point down; then he raised it victoriously as he grinned his intentions once more, prior to slowly driving the blade slowly into the witch’s belly. He wanted to make her death as slow as possible; he wanted to make her pay for the death she had wrought amongst his comrades.
His gloating was to cost him dear. Drustina was so concentrating on somehow deflecting the huge blade with her dagger that she failed to notice another sword appear behind the berserker and pierce his armpit as the berserker poised momentarily with his arms raised prior to pressing his sword downwards.
His victorious sneer changed spectacularly to a bellow of enraged agony as the pain in his armpit upset his aim and he twisted instinctively to somehow address the excruciating sword wound under his arm.
His sudden sideways twist gave Drustina what meagre chance she needed as she realised two things. The giant was now off balance and someone had come to her rescue.
As the giant twisted to face his unexpected new foe, he stepped across his fallen comrade to recover his balance and in so doing he presented his foot for a perfect strike by Drustina’s dagger. Drustina could not believe her good fortune as she recognised a terrified Andrar now facing the enraged berserker giant. It was the young prince who had leapt from hiding by the tiller to drive his sword up into the giant’s armpit.
Drustina knew instinctively what to do and she drove her dagger with all her might right through the giant’s leather shoe thus actually pinning his foot to the Mermaid’s wooden deck. The giant released another bellow and instinctively tried to move his agonised foot but only then did he realise that his foot was stuck ... nailed to the deck by Drustina’s razor sharp, dagger point.
He frantically tried to recover his balance and had to use his sword like a walking-stick to stay upright. Drustina squealed at the petrified prince.
“Now Andrar! Now! Take him. TAKE HIM!!”
Her desperate shout brought the young lad to his senses and that was all the advantage that prince Andrar needed. He slashed frantically at the giant’s bare fore-arms and managed to inflict enough harm to immobilise the remaining arm.
With a pierced arm-pit, a nailed foot and a partially severed wrist the giant berserker was almost immobilised but somehow he still had enough wit to bring his mighty sword to bear towards Drustina’s still trapped body. Fortunately, young Andrar had been emboldened by his unexpected success and he swung frantically at the giant’s blade, just enough to deflect it from its course. As the giant berserker drove downwards, the tip of his blade sliced past Drustina’s chest and embedded itself in the woodwork just below her own armpit. Drustina felt the warm sticky blood and wondered at first who’s it was then the pain of the second sword cut told her it was her blood and she cursed, more in pain than anger.
The sight of Drustina’s blood drove Andrar to new heights of desperation and he threw himself forward to topple the giant.
By this time the shouting and roaring had alerted several of Drustina’s comrades and they now appeared at the prostrate berserker’s shoulders as they quickly despatched the disabled giant. Andrar also found the speed of mind to add his final coupe-de-gras as he slashed furiously at the giant’s throat. The berserker gave a final bloody gargle then lay still but Andrar did not stop as he continued screaming and slashing at the corpse. After a couple of frenzied sword strikes one of the men gently restrained the boy.
“Alright lad! ... alright. It’s over! He’s dead. Go and see to the lioness!”
Andrar turned with alarm then gasped with relief as he saw Drustina twisted on her side and resting on her elbow as she checked the bleeding sword cuts to her breast and chest side. She looked up and grinned at the prince.
“Well done lad! Now you can truly say you’ve won your spurs; and thanks by the way. I was facing certain death.”
She followed his gaze and realised the boy was staring at her ripe globe. Realising this she decided to divert his attention.
“Okay lad, you’ve seen enough, it’s only a tit! Now help me get this bloody lummox off my belly.”
“Sorry majesty! I ...”
“Oh don’t bloody worry lad. There wasn’t a boy born who wouldn’t stare at a woman’s tit. Besides, truth to tell; you’ve probably earned the right. Now get this bloody oaf off me!”
Andrar bent down, heaved mightily and the giant slowly slide off his leader’s belly. Drustina heaved a sigh of relief and grinned.
“By the gods’ I’d not want him as a lover. He’s a heavy bastard!”
The two oar’s-men roared with laughter while Andrar turned scarlet with embarrassment. Drustina looked at him and grinned.
“Oh don’t worry lad, it’s only a cut tit; you’ll see a lot worse than this before you’re dead!”
“Aye; but not a lot nicer boy!!!” One of the oar’s-men added as he bent down to check out the berserker’s excellent sword.”
Andrar crimsoned again then snapped.
“Shut up! Do not insult her body with gutter talk! She’s a queen! She’s your commander! Show her some respect! And put that sword down! It’s hers.”
Drustina chuckled easily.
“Nay lad. That sword is no good to me. I can hardly lift the damn thing. Besides, don’t squabble over the swords, there are four of them all around you. Take one each and let the rest of the men bid for the fourth. I certainly don’t want one. I have my trusty Toledo blade right here and it’s served me better than many. What I do want is a bloody dressing for this cut tit.”
Andrar frowned. It upset him to hear his hero use the same language as the common soldier. He glared at the two men and nodded towards the three other dead berserkers as his hand began to shake. To try and distract himself he snapped at the two oarsmen
“Take their swords and do as she says ... and find the blasted healer. Can’t you bloody see she needs a dressing!?”
The men stopped grinning but ignored Andrar’s sharp tongued offence for they could see he was visibly shaken. They both understood that the boy was still in shock; it had been his first ever engagement and they mutually agreed as they returned to the oars, ‘The boy had acquitted himself well.’
By now Drustina was sitting up and addressing her wounds. She sensed Andrar’s perplexed gaze and looked up to catch him staring again. She wagged her head impatiently.
“Hell lad! Have you never seen a tit before?”
Andrar tensed with embarrassment then replied whilst grinning slightly.
“Yes; I have, but never on a warrior’s chest and never with sword cuts.”
It was Drustina's turn to smile, partly with amusement and partly with relief at still being alive.
“Then get used to it young prince. There’s still plenty of fighting left. That was just one ship, albeit the Berserker ship. Now where’s that damned healer? This bloody battle will be over before I get my bloody tit fixed.”
With that, the medicine man finally appeared and took a poultice and dressing from his bag. Drustina cursed impatiently.
“By the Gods man! What kept you? Stop the blasted bleeding and let’s get back to war! And you! Andrar. Take a hand of that bloody rudder and steer back to the centre channel; that’s where we’ll be most needed.”
Being given a specific task served to settle the boy’s nerves and he quickly bent to his duty. By the time Drustina was ready for more fighting; the mermaid was back with the main fleet. She hailed Eric as the wind and tide bore the Mermaid swiftly into the centre of the squadron.
“That’s one we’ve accounted for but it’s an important one; the berserker ship. When you can, - pass the news around the squadrons. For now, though, we’ll have to fight them amidst the dead-man shallows. There we’ll have the advantages of shallow draught again.”
Eric acknowledged the idea and soon there were four mermaid class and the six captured ships steering towards the van of the Viking fleet. Both Eric and Drustina noted with satisfaction that the Vikings were operating to a tried and proven battle-plan that ordinarily landed a massive force together to achieve the greatest shock and destruction ashore. Here though, amidst the treacherous hazards of the Dead-man Shoals that tactic ensured that the Viking fleet was constrained to a narrow line three columns abreast as they threaded their way down between the exposed shoals as the tide ebbed. The lack of open water denied them their advantage of number and size.
Simply by presenting a solid front of three of the captured ships plus the slow massive Gaulish ship, the allies managed to block the Vikings and prevent them passing inwards to the main river channel that ran deep, slow and wide. Once the Viking advance was slowed and congestion reined; the smaller ‘Mermaid’ class were able to duck in and out of the struggling mass and pick off their targets with relative ease. It was rare for a single hampered Viking ship to find itself fighting less than three 'Mermaid's' at a time as each ship was slowly picked off while the others could only approach from astern ,a direction that made them predictable and therefore vulnerable.
After an hour of furious action, six of the Viking attackers had been stranded on the shoals whilst only one of the captured Hoek ships had been overwhelmed and captured, only to be set on fire by its sisters once it was knowingly overwhelmed. By mid-morning, the allies were down to eighteen ships while the attacking invaders were down to twenty five. The rate of attrition had certainly favoured the allied forces and Drustina nodded with satisfaction as she joined with Carl after a third and separate action in the South channel. As they spelled for an hour or so, it seemed to Andrar that the middle channel ran red with Viking blood. Victory was being won slowly and cruelly.
As the sun started to sink, the Viking commander realised he was moving into even more dangerous circumstances. Darkness would force him to anchor for the night because he did not know the water intimately. However, while he had to maintain a vigilant watch against sneak attacks from an enemy that obviously knew their home waters like the backs of their hands, that same enemy could relax and rest while choosing how and where or if they wanted to attack.
Knowing the Viking commander’s dilemma, Drustina deliberately played a cruel game of ‘cat-and-mouse’ by organising sporadic attacks in total darkness using the proven expediency of occasionally igniting shore markers and taking bottom samples to determine their position before launching lightening attacks. By this tactic they destroyed a further four longships during a night that left the Vikings jumpy and exhausted.
When the following day dawned, the Vikings fleet was reduced to twenty useable ships while a further four had run aground during the darkness. Drustina savoured a particular satisfaction as she deemed her strategy to have enjoyed an unexpected degree of success.
‘Hit them before they can mass their army ashore.’
As her hand clenched tight against the rail of her beloved Mermaid she tempered her excitement with the cold realisation that the Vikings were still a dangerous force to be much reckoned with. There was not yet time for the defenders of Hoek to lower their guard. She studied the relief ships bringing supplies of food for her hungry sailors and smiled with a deadly satisfaction. Throughout the long night, the Vikings had enjoyed neither peace nor food except what they carried with them. Her second strategy had also proven useful though she had not made it known to any. She kept her second thought to herself.
‘The longer the enemy were bottled up, the hungrier and weaker they became.’
She had not expected this strategy to be quite so efficacious for she had anticipated being forced to meet with them on land as they foraged for food whilst advancing on Hoek. The extra sleepless night at sea must have sapped both the enemy’s strength and his confidence. She frowned to herself as she concluded grimly.
‘You haven’t even landed yet, you butchers. Let us see what another day fighting on the sea will do to your supposed invincibility?’
Drustina’s long experience of many forms of warfare had taught her one thing. Many battles were lost before they were won simply because an enemy’s reputation preceded them. The Vikings invariably won their battles because they chose their locations carefully then struck on land with overwhelming force without warning.
Out on the water, they may have been excellent navigators and seafarers but they had rarely been confronted by a well disciplined and well trained foe employing better ships and novel tactics. What’s more, the Vikings were a long way from home so until they managed to land ashore, they had no certain logistics. Conversely, Drustina’s forces had all the advantages of good food, regular rest and reliefs, coupled with short supply routes.
‘The longer the Vikings were held at bay on the water, the worse their prospects became.’
She decided to simply wait out the morning and see what the Vikings could come up with.
By noon, nothing had developed and Drustina’s commanders began to get impatient. Eric and Urthos came alongside the mermaid to lodge their protests.
“Why do we wait Dru?”
Drustina grinned and replied.
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” the pair chorused.
“Have all your men eaten?”
“Of course; we would not eat without first seeing that all our men are fed.”
“Have they eaten?” She asked; nodding towards the gathered Viking fleet.
“I doubt it.” Urthos grinned. “Well, not much.”
“Exactly,” Drustina grinned. “Look at them huddled in a tight bunch; their commanders and his lieutenants are bereft of ideas to handle our tactics so they huddle together while they argue .... and go hungry. They starve, we eat, they get more and more desperate, we get rested. They will have to make a move while we can now just sit and wait.
The longer it takes, the more they will argue and they will become divided against themselves.
Patience Urthos, have I not always said, wars are won with wit not wrath.”
Urthos grinned acknowledgement as he chopped off a hefty joint of pork and savoured the fulfilment.
“Aye Dru, you’re a clever bitch if ever there was one.”
At his use of the word ‘bitch’ Andrar let out a gasp of protest and Drustina had to move quickly to restrain the boy’s sword arm.
“Don’t worry lad, it’s not an insult. To lead these wild beasts, I sometimes have to be a beast myself whist fighting ... and a female beast is as much a bitch as a sorceress. He means it as a compliment, a term of endearment, a mark of respect. You have much to learn of combat Andrar. Urthos, Eric and Carl have been through much with me. They are entitled to call me a bitch but because they follow me, it makes each one of them a ‘son-of-a-bitch’. Now cut yourself some of that pork and take the watch.”
She then turned to Urthos with an indulgent smile.
“Forgive the lad Urthos, he's still an impetuous kid even if he is brave. Might I suggest you go and explain my strategy to Eric and take him some of that pork. I expect Carl will be back from Hoek soon with news of the defence preparations. Meanwhile, I’m going to catch up on some sleep. Andrar, keep a close watch on those pirates and if you see them move, warn me.”
With no more ado, Drustina curled up under her leather battle cape and was asleep before Andrar could take a single bite of his pork. He marvelled at her detachment.
‘How can she sleep at this time!?’
He wondered as he took his station beside the tiller where his two earlier protectors joined him.
He was glad of their company and experience for he was rapidly learning that responsibility was an onerous burden. He studied the congested ring of anchored Viking longships then turned to the older men.
“What should we look out for?”
One of the men grinned as he explained.
“Pretty obvious lad. If any of them begins to move then raise the alarm; if the wind increases or changes direction then raise the alarm; if any other ships appear from anywhere and you don’t recognise them, then raise the alarm. Anything you’re not sure of; raise the alarm or at least, wake her.”
As the man nodded towards the tightly curled up bundle that was Drustina, Andrar could not help noticing the affectionate, respectful attitude of the two men. He reflected silently as he took station by the tiller.
‘I only hope I can one day win the respect that she enjoys.’
~~ooo000ooo~~
It was in the mid afternoon as the tide turned that Andrar finally noticed some activity. It was only the return of Carl with news from Hoek but Andrar knew Drustina was waiting for information. After alerting Drustina and signalling to Eric and Urthos that Carl had news. Each commander arrived with a retinue of officers and they soon sat to plan their next move. Andrar simply sat silent listening to the commanders discussing tactics. He was impressed with the openness of the discussions and doubly impressed when Sister Catherine arrived from Hoek with food and weapons. The fact that she was also invited to join the discussions told Andrar much. In Drustina’s navy, experience and wit counted for all whilst gender and vanity were but nought. Eventually after each officer had told of his experiences in the morning’s battle the next plan was thrashed out. It changed little from the first plan but Drustina simply explained.
‘If a plan works, stick with it or something similar.’ She explained with satisfaction.
“It seems we have them bottled up between the shoals comrades. If they try to escape they have to thread their way out to the open sea and that thins their numbers while the mermaids can concentrate where they wish by crossing over the shoals. Thus we can choose our battles and concentrate our forces where we will. If they try to attack we employ the same tactic as before and harry them as they try to enter the main estuary. Carl tells that Hoek’s walls are all but finished in the first phase and the town is now defensible. Also, a small army of Friesians have joined with the town’s-people so the odds in a land battle are in our favour. If they manage to smash through here, our last defiance on the water will be to lure them onto the town’s new walls. Hopefully their greed will entice them to try and capture the town and they won’t know how well defended the town is now. So comrades, shall we prepare for the coming night again by first igniting the land marks again so that we can navigate amongst the shoals in darkness?”
There was a general murmur of assent as Carl grinned.
“The very act of our lighting the flares will fright them for they will know they face another wearisome and deadly night. To arms comrades! They are like rats in a trap.”
The commanders returned to their flotillas and Andrar shared food with Drustina and Sister Catherine as one by one, the shore beacons flickered into life. Eventually all six beacons gave sufficient transits to enable Drustina’s fleet to move amongst the shoals with confidence and the flotilla stirred into life. By the time the stygian darkness of total night had descended, the Angry Mermaid and her cohorts were secretly waging war on the trapped Vikings. Urthos and Eric remained in the company of their larger captured Viking ships to block any assault on the main channel or the town of Hoek, while Carl and Drustina carefully went about their deadly business. By morning to everybody’s satisfaction, another three of the Viking ships were destroyed while one was stranded on a sand bar. As dawn broke, the stranded ship became a sitting duck as the mermaid ships swarmed around her until every Viking was dead.
Andrar wondered why Drustina offered no quarter and as she sat eating her breakfast he mentioned it to her..
“You showed them no mercy.”
Drustina shrugged, all her companions knew of Drustina’s abiding hatred for the race that had left her a homeless orphan. She chewed thoughtfully before replying.
“They wouldn’t have shown me any mercy. They’d probably have raped me then executed me. They are a cruel race.”
“But a brave one,” Andrar finished.
Again Drustina shrugged; in her vast experience of war, most volunteers were brave and resolute. She explained briefly.
“Those butchers consider it a great honour to die in battle. I sometimes think they deliberately go to war just to give any old warriors and particularly their chiefs the opportunity to die by the sword. I just offer them that opportunity.”
She nodded significantly towards an exposed sand-bar where several dozen Viking bodies were strewn about, flopping and lolling in the surf looking for the entire world like dead seals. Finally she finished eating and grinned evilly.
“They’ll get no mercy from me ... ever!”
Andrar shivered under her malignant introspections and he turned to polishing his sword to avert any more of Drustina’s attention. He did not escape however for as he studied his reflection in the polished blade, Drustina tasked him again.
“We should have a go at recovering that stranded ship. Nobody else seems to want it.”
“There may still be men hiding aboard.”
“Well now’s your chance to cover yourself in glory. Go and check if you want.”
Andrar hesitated before asking.
“What; alone!?”
He felt himself go crimson under Drustina’s withering gaze. Then he plucked up some courage to ask.
“Will you give me cover, they probably have bows and arrows.”
Drustina smirked.
“You didn’t think we’d let you walk up to it unprotected did you? Don’t get your bow wet and take plenty of arrows.”
Andrar fell silent then bit his lip nervously as he collected his weapons and jumped into the shallow water. To his surprise and relief it only came to his waist. It reinforced the message that the mermaid class were particularly shallow drafted and he waded manfully towards the shore. As he stepped onto the sand-bar he looked back once to see all the Angry mermaid’s crew lined up beside Drustina with bows drawn. Drustina waved encouragement and he set off towards the stranded ship. Its bow lay in the deeper water while the stern was securely embedded in the sand surrounded by shallower knee-deep water. It would be high tide before it could be moved.
As he walked along the surf line he picked his way amongst the dead Viking bodies, whilst he was relieved to see the Angry mermaid keeping up with him as they skimmed along the shallows.
Suddenly there was a shout and two Vikings popped up from the bow post of the stranded ship where they had spotted the Mermaid approaching. Andrar realised they had not seen him and he dropped like a stone beside a dead body to resemble one of the Viking dead. Fortunately his battle dress resembled the Vikings and they did not recognise him.
It was only then that Andrar realised Drustina’s ploy. He, Andrar was the sneak attack while the Mermaid was the decoy.
He peered cautiously towards the stranded ship as a shower of arrows erupted from the Mermaid and thunked into the Viking ship’s planking. There was curse from the ship but only two arrows were fired back. Andrar realised there were only two raiders remaining. He sucked in air as he waited for the next salvo to erupt from the mermaid then as they whistled high into the air, he saw the Vikings duck behind the planking. Realising they could not see him, he leapt up and dashed another ten metres to the next dead body then dropped to the sand as the arrows thunked again into the stranded ship.
Once more the two men fired back and thus Drustina repeated the ploy several times as she watched the young prince cunningly dash from body to body until he was under the beam of the ship where the two men could not see him. There he waited whilst his heart pounded with fear until the next Salvo had slammed into the bow planking. The bow of the Stranded ship was beginning to resemble a porcupine but Andrar had little time to think about it. As the two Vikings stood up to return fire, Andrar realised he was presented with a perfectly clear shot.
‘Next time you bastards’. He whispered to himself as he raised his bow to Drustina to signal his readiness.
The next salvo whistled in whilst Andrar stepped out from under the stern and waited. When the defending pair stood up to fire, Andrar released his single arrow and grunted with relief as he saw it strike home.
‘One down, one to go’, he told himself. ‘What will she want of me now?’
His thoughts were answered immediately by a shout from The Mermaid as several warriors splashed into the water under the cover of another salvo. Andrar watched for the remaining raider but he did not appear; this told him the man was stalking him so it was time for Andrar to move. He slipped low and waded around the stern to the steering-oar side because the notch enabled him to peep through the planking. He caught a fleeting glimpse of leather tabard and realised the remaining raider was sneaking down the original side hoping to corner Andrar.
Andrar had two options, to take a quick peep over the rail in the hope of locating exactly where his enemy was or simply wait until the others arrived to overwhelm the lone Viking. Andrar hesitated then decided to take a peek.
His impatience or his curiosity, (For the rest of his life Andrar would never be able to determine which.) nearly cost him his life. As he grabbed one of the remaining oars and hauled himself up to peer over the rail he came face to face with the single remaining Viking! It was hard to tell which was the more shocked but Andrar had one slight advantage. The surprise caused him to let go of the oar and he fell back flat into the shallow water. The raider frantically raised his bow and leaned over the rail hoping to get a perfect shot but Andrar managed to snatch his shield and scrabble under the hull as the first arrow sliced with a deadly whisper into the water between his knees.
For a moment, Andrar was shocked as he crouched under the turn of the bilge to make all of him invisible. The raider took this natural reaction to mean Andrar was frozen with fear and he yelled victoriously determined to take one Saxon with him. He vaulted over the side and landed heavily into the soft sand for he had misjudged the depth. He sank to his knees and cursed as he extricated himself from the unexpected trap. The delay gave Andrar a vital moment to dodge out from under the hull and make a stance as he swallowed fearfully.
Andrar was a mere fifteen-year-old boy while the Viking was a head taller. Realising he couldn’t defeat the experienced warrior, Andrar let out a desperate shout for help as their swords clashed.
The shout would not have been needed; the ring of steel against steel told Andrar’s comrades that the battle was afoot on the other side of the ship. The men dashed around the stern to see their young prince dwarfed by his assailant. They realised the boy was making a fist of it but only by stepping back with every sword-play. Already, blood was flowing from a cut to the boy’s arm. Without hesitation, one of the men put an arrow into the Viking and he fell at Andrar’s feet.
“You alright lad?”
The boy stood gasping for breath and shaking with his heart pounding as blood flowed from his arm.
“Yes. What kept you?”
“Ignorance lad,” the leader shouted. “Once you knew there was only one Viking left, you should have shouted immediately, not go peeping and poking into a bloody wasp’s nest. Let that be a lesson lad, don’t try to be the hero, support your mates and they’ll support you. Now get back to the Mermaid and get that arm seen to. We’ll tidy up here.”
“She’s my ship, I captured her.”
“Possibly lad, I’m sure Queen Drustina will reward you handsomely now go and get your arm seen to!”
Andrar plodded back to the Mermaid to be met at the rail by Drustina.
“You managed it then?” Drustina inquired.
“Managed what?”
“To dispose of the last Vikings.”
Andrar frowned surlily.
“I didn’t. I only killed one of them. The other one nearly killed me.”
“But one of your companions — my companions — saved you.”
“Yes.”
“How did you get the cut on your arm?”
“The big one nearly did for me, if it hadn’t been for Hadrar and his bow I’d be dead by now.”
“But you’re not. For now you’re safe.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you; d’you know I had to ...”
Drustina raised her finger to her lips.
“Hush now. You did what was asked of you and you ensured the capture of that fine ship. We all knew what you had to do and you did it. Well done; now go and get that wound sorted. The healer is ready for you.”
“Hadrar said you might reward me.”
“And how should I do that?”
“You might at least say thank you.”
“For what; doing your job?”
“Well no; I ...”
Andrar hesitated and Drustina was blunt.
“You are a warrior fighting a battle. Somebody had to stalk that ship, I chose you to test you. You passed, well done. What more d’you want?”
“I thought I might have some sort of claim on the ship.”
“You get the spoils of victory, just like every one of us. Title to that ship has yet to be decided; anyway, that ship, as you call it, is not so much a ship at the moment as simply a stranded wreck. First we’ll have to get it to float.”
“How, she’s high and dry and the tide is still ebbing?”
“We all dig around her now; then when the tide rises tonight, we try to float her off.”
“What if the Vikings come to reclaim her. They can put a hundred men ashore from one ship.”
“Then we burn her. We can’t afford to let them recover her. The sooner we start digging the better our chances before the water rises high enough.”
“How does digging help?” The young prince asked.
“We dig as much sand as we can out of a trench around her then, as the tide comes in, it will cause the walls of the trench to collapse inwards. The ship will settle a bit deeper but it will settle into a trench full of water. If she floats, we can tow her off the bank down the trench. Her bow is already in the water so it should work first time. The most important thing is to get her off before those brutes can get in close enough to attack. At the moment, their ships are deep draughted because they are loaded with all sorts of logistical materials that they can’t afford to jettison so we’ve got about three hours by my estimation.
We’d best get to it.”
Andrar could see the reasoning and he quickly joined the rest of Drustina’s crew after the healer had fixed the cut to his arm. When he joined the diggers he was dismayed to see every moveable item removed from the ship except oars and sails. Drustina explained.
“We have to make her as light as possible. If there’s anything you want go and get it now and load it on the mermaid. The men have already recovered the valuable weapons and stuff.”
Andrar cast his eyes around the sand bank and saw little of value left so he resumed digging beside Drustina. To his delight after about an hour of digging, the ship creaked slightly and listed to one side. The movement gave the warriors renewed incentive and they dug furiously until the ship eventually settled upright in the water-filled trench. After half an hour’s further digging they had a channel dug towards the sea and a tow rope was attached to the mermaid. With lots of pushing and manoeuvring, the comrades finally manhandled the ship into deeper water with little damage except to one plank at the water line. After quickly closing the leak several of Drustina’s experienced crew joined Andrar to check out the seaworthiness.
“She’ll do lad,” Hengis remarked as Andrar felt a surge of satisfaction when the ship dipped comfortably to the incoming swells.
“Do I get to keep her?”
Hengis grinned and nodded out to seawards.
“Only if we and Drustina’s Mermaid can fight off those bastards.”
Andrar looked seawards and swallowed.
“Shit! They’re close, we’d better get moving.”
“Aye lad. Head back to the estuary. Drustina will watch your back. We’re undermanned with only five men and Drustina’s only got a dozen or so. D’you remember the marks?”
“Yes. At high water the two easternmost marks and the watch tower mark the first reach when they’re in line.”
“Well done kid. You’re learning. She’ll make a bloody king of you even yet!”
Andrar flushed under the roughly worded compliment but he felt a warm glow suffuse his body as he relished the supportive affection he had won from Drustina’s men.
‘So this was what it felt like to be a well loved and respected leader.’ He reflected happily as the sails tightened and started to thrum earnestly.
As the shore marks came into alignment Andrar looked back to see Drustina waving affirmation and he steered directly for the estuary deeps. With his course now easy to follow, he kept glancing back to see Drustina and the Mermaid teasing the pursuing Viking ship as she kept crossing it’s path and inviting him to follow. Instead, the deeper, larger ship had to keep checking the depths while the leadsman kept swinging his leadline ahead as they went in fear of grounding. Consequently he was easily outpaced by Andrar’s undermanned ship and Drustina’s infinitely more manoeuvrable craft. The invading Vikings were quickly coming to learn that this time they had disturbed a veritable hornet’s nest.
Even as the pursuing raider finally confirmed she was in deeper, safer water; her troubles only multiplied. Eric and Carl had been watching events and they quickly fell upon Drustina’s pursuer. With a couple of the Hoek captured ships assisting, they had little trouble subduing the Viking ship and they captured it with little loss.
Several further skirmishes took place and Drustina watched with satisfaction as her protégé acquitted himself satisfactorily. Her main tactic had worked, the battles had been fought on the water and the Vikings had been denied their main advantage. Landing large numbers of ‘shock-troops’ ashore from their ships.
That evening victory was complete for the forces of Hoek. By dint of training, preparation and local knowledge they had defeated a larger force who had totally under-estimated their enemy. Drustina’s forces had captured or destroyed several more ships and the Viking invaders had seemingly retreated back to the open North Sea. Drustina was not prepared to let down her guard however. Even as she released Andrar, Urthos and Eric to take the news back to Hoek and Queen Dalcimon; she and her favourite Lieutenant Carl, kept patrolling the approaches to ensure no sneak attack was resumed during the night. As their two ships latched oars so that Drustina, Carl and the other lieutenants could confer; she made her feelings known.
“We will have to patrol for many miles up and down the sea coast to make sure they cannot land with impunity. Remember there are still some fifteen of their ships unaccounted for by our estimations. Even if some of these have been lost, we cannot be certain. They might even try a night landing but fortunately we have hidden all our marks and doused our fire beacons so they are now invisible from sea. Frankly, I think they would be foolish to try at night but they will be desperate by now.”
She paused to hear of any dissenting ideas but there were none. Every lieutenant knew of the need for caution and alertness. Fortunately they also felt the North- west wind increasing and they smiled knowingly amongst themselves. Any northerly wind would set the invading seaward fleet on a treacherous lee shore. Drustina’s patrolling ships would be inside the banks and safe from the pounding surf.
All in all, Drustina was pleased with the day’s work.
~~ooo000ooo~~
Drustina finally defeats a determined Viking invasion force and returns to Hoek to find more problems have beset Queen Dalcimon.
Her solution in saving Queen Dalcimon inadvertently provides Drustina with a nucleus of men who are dependent upon Drustina for their salvation.
The Angry Mermaid 68
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 68.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel.... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus.... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar .... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Chapter 68.
As dawn broke the north-west wind sent a chill through Drustina’s bones. She shivered as she watched Carl’s ship approaching. Immediately he was in earshot he hailed her.
“Nothing to report Dru’ anything your end?”
“No. We might as well just set a roster of picket ships. I’d like to get back to Hoek and learn how our battle was won. I suppose the others will be still recovering from their celebrations. There’ll be plenty of tall tales being told.”
Carl grinned as he added; “and bullshit!” He’d celebrated enough times to know what Drustina meant. They called the lieutenants together and drew lots to determine the rota. Once she’d ensured her instructions were understood and her warnings clearly heard by all, Drustina left two ships as picket ships then invited Carl and the others to join her towards the estuary and Hoek. The north wind drove them upstream quickly and they arrived to find the little harbour full of Eric and Urthos’s ships.
“Dammit! We’ll have to anchor in the river.” She cursed.
Carl drew alongside and added his own epletives.
“They’re selfish buggers. Couldn’t wait to get ashore and go bragging to all and sundry. Dalcimon the queen is going to have to build a bigger bloody dock.”
“Not my problem Carl. As soon as all is sorted here, I’m for Lleyn and home.”
“It’s getting late in the year Drew. You yourself said the winter storm waves of the great sea are unbelievably wild and huge. Will you be safe?”
“I can always put into the Dumnonii harbour or even the Demetae haven; provided they haven’t been recaptured by the blasted Vikings. Come on, let’s go ashore."
They were quietly relieved to see a small boat depart from the last couple of feet of quayage; at least they wouldn’t have to wade through the sticky black mud. As the ferry man met them at the rail he sensed Drustina’s ire.
“I’m sorry there was no space for you in Dock my lady. They just wouldn’t listen yesterday when we tried to reserve your berth. Short of raising my sword there was no way of damping their jubilant mood. I was one, they were many.”
Drustina pursed her lips irritably.
“Don’t worry, ferry man, Carl and I will make our feelings well known. Who were the main culprits?”
The ferryman hesitated before conceding.
“The Saxons and the Gauls ma-am, but it was mainly the mood of euphoria. Everybody wanted to get ashore quickly, to celebrate.”
“Aye, well I’ll give them celebrate. We’ve been freezing our butts off for another night and that north wind is bloody cruel! Get some of our men to sort the bloody ships out. None of us are in any mood for hanging around at anchor.”
“How shall I decide the priority?”
Drustina gave a long impatient sigh.
“I don’t bloody know. Use your own initiative. Is there a harbour master anywhere?”
“No. None has been chosen.”
“Right then, I’m appointing you. If anybody complains, they can answer to my bloody sword. Sort it!”
The ferry-man visibly puffed with pride as he found himself promoted and by no less authority than the supreme one. He cast about to note Carl and Drustina’s battle weary companions nod approval. Thus fortified he had the authority to enforce much needed order. As Carl and Drustina stepped ashore at the only available ferry steps they smiled as they heard the ferry-man begin to roust about the hanger’s-on who were loafing on the quay.
“You heard her majesty. These ships have got to be tidied up. We’ll probably get them all in if we just arrange them tighter and neater.”
Drustina and Carl were already out of earshot by the time the new harbourmaster had kicked enough butts to get action started. They found Eric and Urthos comfortably ensconced in a newly erected hut that served as the only inn in Hoek. Carl scolded them good humouredly as Drustina simply wagged her head in mock despair.
“Trust you cunning buggers to grab the best billets. I suppose Andrar’s sleeping with his mum over there.”
Carl nodded towards another hastily erected building that looked big enough to serve as a town meeting place and/or royal residence. Eric enlightened them.
“No. They’re both sleeping in the watch tower it’s the only stone structure with any defensive accommodation as yet and they’re still concentrating on the defences.”
“Huh. They’ve got some sense then. I expected to find all of you snoring off your hangovers.”
Eric and Urthos exchanged sheepish glances then Eric confessed.
“Well, we did tie one on last night — everybody did — except the lad, Prince Andrar and the Frankish reinforcements. But we felt safe; you and Carl were out there — on patrol.”
Drustina nodded sagely.
“Yeah, at least the lad’s got sense. He’ll go far that one. I’d better pay her majesty a visit ... give her a sensible account of the situation. Don’t suppose you clots did — too busy bullshitting and carousing I suppose.”
Urthos grinned a little guiltily.
“We were waiting for you to tell her. If you hadn’t turned up today we would have told her. I suppose her son’s told her anyway.”
Carl got impatient.
“He’s a fifteen-year-old boy Urthos. D’you think he would be able to make a balanced, mature assessment of the situation?”
“Well no, but — well; it doesn’t matter now, you’re here.”
Carl wagged his head even as Drustina snorted derisively and turned to make for the watch tower. He joined her as she stalked impatiently along the street and they fell to chatting.
“They’re good warriors Dru’ but they’ll never make chiefs.”
“I dunno’ Carl, I think Eric’s got his eye on Dalcimon.”
Carl stopped, shocked by Drustina’s revelation.
“You’re not serious!”
“I am. Womanly intuition Carl, we notice these things.”
“Well the crafty bugger!”
“It’s no matter. Andrar is the rightful successor and everybody knows it. Dalcimon’s a frightened, lonely woman and she wants a companion, she was only fourteen when she was married and she’s still quite a young woman.”
“Yeah, and an attractive one!”
“Yes, well that’s no matter. If she and Eric hit it off, good luck to them I say.”
Carl frowned.
“D’you think Eric’s got ambitions; you know, becoming king or something?”
“He’d have to kill Andrar and I can’t see the Gauls, Franks and Friesians standing for that. It would upset the stability of their alliance. Everybody sees Andrar as the symbol of stability and legality, he’s the legitimate successor."
Carl nodded and sighed.
“So it looks like only you and I are going to Britannica; me to find my brother and sisters, you to get your homelands back.”
“What about Urthos?” Drustina ventured.
“He wants to go home to Gaul; he’s had enough of soldiering and adventuring.”
“Haven’t we all Carl, and that’s the truth.”
Carl gave a weary yes as they met the guards at the watch tower who stopped them at the door.
“We want to see Dalcimon.” Drustina explained.
“You must surrender your swords before you can meet with her majesty.”
Carl bristled with anger.
“Who made that rule and do you know who we are?”
“Those are my orders, from the queen herself.”
Carl was about to erupt into fury but fortunately, Drustina’s long association with him alerted her to his impending rage. She gently placed her hand on his wrist as he reached for his sword.
“Not now Carl. So guardsman, I take it you don’t know who we are, you must be the Frankish reinforcements who arrived while we were fighting the Vikings. Just tell her majesty that the Lioness of Carthage has returned.”
The guardsman frowned and despatched his companion to speak with Dalcimon. He returned with the unexpected reply.
“Her Majesty Queen Dalcimon can’t see you now. She’s indisposed.”
Drustina stiffened momentarily even as she sensed Carl go tense. Something was not right.
Drustina tried again.
“Tell Her Majesty Queen Dalcimon that the Lioness of Carthage is at her door with vital information.”
The guard turned to his messenger who disappeared inside again only to reappear with a third guard who asked what the information was then added that he would relay the message.
“I don’t pass secret and vital information via strangers. I will speak with the queen immediately, so step aside or I’ll make you!”
“You and who’s army?” Asked the third Frankish guard, who felt emboldened that he and his two cronies outnumbered the single Saxon and this garrulous, uppity woman.
For a moment Drustina was speechless with disbelief while Carl discreetly shifted his position so as to protect his erstwhile companion from attack on her left. His movement alerted Drustina that Carl was prepared to respond instantly. Drustina’s silence emboldened the third guard who presumed, stupidly, that he had faced the cheeky bitch down. He shifted his stance to a posture that he thought demonstrated complete contempt for the interfering pair and this was his mistake. Drustina and Carl had fought a dozen battles side by side and there response was second nature. The time for talking was over. Drustina reached up seemingly to push a stray hair behind her ear; it was their long established signal and Carl’s sword whipped out with lightening speed. The messenger was run through before anybody else had moved.
Simultaneously, Drustina unsheathed her sword and stepped forward thus forcing the first guard to step back to unsheathe his sword. It was a forlorn effort as he realised Drustina was already too close for him to swing his sword and he was forced to draw his arm back in order to effectively stab the woman. Even as his elbow went up and back to unsheathe his sword, Drustina’s unsheathed blade cut into his throat. He died with a soft gargle as the blood bubbled out through the hole in his trachea.
The third guard was too stunned to react but he managed to leap back and bare his blade as he yelled to others in the watchtower. It was his last act as two blades sliced with fatal precision into his throat and chest. Drustina and Carl knew from long experience that they had to keep up their momentum and they exploded into the central keep of the watchtower just as the Franks were gathering their wits.
The sudden plunge from daylight into candle-lit gloom did not catch the pair unawares for they had invaded many a fortress. Carl reached out for Drustina’s hand and held it as they simply beat off every other sword whilst knowing that their companion was beside them and safe from mistaking each other. Within seconds, seven Franks and an officer lay dead or dying as peace returned to the keep. After silence settled, Drustina called out.
“Dalcimon! Andrar. Are you there?”
The silence was deafening as it presaged the pair’s foreboding. Drustina voiced both their thoughts
“Damn! Where can they be?”
“The only place is up above. I noticed the watch tower is a little higher than when we left. They’ve been busy.”
“Yeah; and we thought they were concentrating on defences. I’m thinking this is nothing more than a prison! “
“And — we — are - inside — it!” Carl replied thoughtfully.
Drustina cursed.
“Shit! The door! Quick!”
Too late, the door closed with a dull ‘clunk’ then they both heard a lock bar being slid home.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Carl cursed as he heaved with his considerable strength. “What now?”
“Well we look around the place first; see what’s about.”
The pair immediately clambered up the wooden ladder to the first level then up a second ladder before they stepped out onto the castellated top of the watch-tower. A small stone cupboard immediately caught their eyes and they stepped towards it. It was locked but Carl drew his broad-sword and quickly chiselled a stone loose from the freshly mortared walls. Drustina watched with evident satisfaction as he set about smashing the lock. It sprang quickly and he wrenched the door open to find Dalcimon and Andrar gagged and trussed like chickens. Both warriors cursed and set to freeing the captives.
Carl stood grinning as Drustina used her sharper Toledo blade to deftly slice away the bindings.
“So what’s going on?” Drustina demanded as soon as Dalcimon’s gag was off.
“I think it’s a coup.”
“What! By the Franks?”
“I’m not sure. They didn’t sound like my people but they speak Frankish.”
By now Drustina had freed Andrar who was furious with embarrassment and anger.
“They were Belgiie!” Their country is under the Frankish king and they’re trying to break free.”
“So why attack you?” Drustina pursued the question already half knowing the answer.
Dalcimon stared at her.
“I’m his niece. I’m thinking they were hoping to use me as some sort of bargaining chip.”
“Yeah. That would follow,” growled Carl as he lifted Andrar to his feet and checked him over while Drustina checked out Dalcimon.
“I’m okay!” Andrar protested, “It’s my pride they took.”
“And your sword,” Carl finished then continued. “We’ve got to find a way out of here.”
“The door is too strong.” Dalcimon declared.
“I know, I tried it. We’ll have to find a way of getting over the wall.”
Andrar looked over and frowned.
“It must be all of fifty or sixty feet.”
The four of them peered doubtfully over the castellations and fell silent. Then Carl had a thought.
“How long is your hair Dru?”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“It’s long Carl, you know that; but it’s not that bloody long!”
“No I was thinking of making ties.
“To tie what?”
Even as she asked, Dru realised what Carl was thinking.
“Ahh! The ladders.”
Andrar and Dalcimon still hadn’t caught on but already Carl was climbing down to the first level. He called Andrar down to help him and soon Drustina could hear them grunting and heaving. When the top of the ladder appeared through the roof, she and Dalcimon grabbed it and added extra strength. Within minutes, both ladders lay at their feet and Drustina was already sawing at her hair. She glared at Carl then grinned.
“This is going to cost you big time. I’m ruining my hair cutting it this way!”
“Better your hair than your head girl.”
As the first tress came off, Carl immediately set to lashing the ladders end to end. By the time the second tress was off Carl was manhandling the ladders towards the wall and Drustina was fashioning a large loop to cast around the Castellation. The hair wasn’t long enough and Carl looked pointedly at Dalcimon. Drustina grinned.
“Thought you were going to get away with it didn’t you?”
Dalcimon grinned sheepishly then loosened her hair and it tumbled spectacularly down to her curvy bottom.
“More than enough!” Drustina cried triumphantly as she sliced easily through the queen’s beautiful tresses.”
“Such a pity,” Carl sighed as he finally fashioned the loop and slid the combined ladders over the wall.
They studied their handiwork with evident satisfaction and grinned as Carl suggested.
“You first Dru, you’re the lightest I think and you can protect the bottom of the ladder while I guard the top in case they come.”
“Seems like a plan,” Drustina grinned as she slipped nimbly over the wall and scampered quickly down the ladder.
The ladder invention did not quite reach the ground but Drustina easily dropped the remaining ten feet onto the soft mud that formed the bank of the creek. She looked up to see Dalcimon picking her way down the ladder so she stood by the bottom and as Dalcimon lowered herself from the bottom rung, Drustina stretched up just enough for Dalcimon to place her feet in Drustina’s up-stretched hands. Dalcimon descended easily and with some royal dignity as they smiled with satisfaction.
Immediately Andrar followed, keen to amend his shame at being caught then finally Carl descended very carefully as the ladder assembly creaked and swayed precariously. Dropping the last ten feet, he landed with a heavy ‘gloop’ and sank past his knees.
“Well that was easier than I thought it would be,” Carl gasped as he extricated himself from the soft mud.
“We’d best get away from here ASAP.” Drustina urged. They’ll be back with reinforcements any moment.
“I think I can hear them now,” Andrar cautioned as he helped Carl wipe the smelly ooze from his thighs and knees.
The four needed no further urging and Drustina nodded towards some deeper water further along the bank.
“Quickly, we can step into the water without leaving any signs then we can swim across. They may find out how we escaped but they’ll have no idea where we went.”
The others quickly grasped her point and the four slipped hastily to the deeper pool where the steep bank enabled them to step down into the water without leaving footprints in the mud. Within moments, the four were swimming across the creek and quickly hid themselves amongst some reeds and weeping willow on the opposite bank. From between the reed stalks they watched the action around the tower.
“We only just made it,” Drustina whispered.
“We’re not out of the woods yet. “ Carl replied. “There are five hundred of those Belgiie reinforcements garrisoned in the town and our guys aren’t even aware they’re also our enemies.
“Four hundred and ninety,” Andrar corrected him. “We’ve killed ten of them already!”
Carl and Drustina exchanged smiles as Dalcimon scolded her son for his precocity. Carl remarked.
“I love an optimist, don’t you Dru?”
“Yes, well he can precocity his way to the ships and warn the crews.” She turned to Andrar. “Go on lad. Swim over to the ships at anchor and be quick about it. Tie this to your belt. It will confirm your sincerity.”
She handed him one of her earrings and he tucked it away as he scuttled along the bank of the creek to where it entered the main river. There was a slight ‘plop’ as he slid into the water then the remaining three saw him making for the ships. All three silently urged him to success and a veritable sigh of relief escaped silently as they saw him climb onto The Mermaid and start talking to Hengis while pointing to the tower.
The action was immediate and within minutes, Hengis had assembled a useful couple of hundred men from all the ships to send a raiding party ashore. The gap between ships and shore was less than a bowshot and soon the small boats were ferrying men quickly until Heingist’s band had landed at the mouth of the creek on both sides. Andrar immediately returned to Drustina, Carl and Dalcimon.
Drustina noted the tactic approvingly. Heingist already had command of the creek plus Drustina’s bank and the stone quay that bordered the dock. They could step ashore quickly and they did so, immediately invading the town searching out their own comrades.
Drustina, Carl and Dalcimon remained amongst the bushes as the hue and cry rose higher until the clash of sword blades told them that battle had commenced.
“Should we join them?” Andrar asked. “Hengis knows where we are.”
“When our men appear at the base of the watch-tower then it will be safe to cross back.” Drustina cautioned him.
Even as she spoke, a splinter from the spreading battle appeared on the opposite bank as Drustina recognised Urthos roaring like his namesake — a bear. A running battle was in full flow and it was obvious now that Drustina’s forces were fully alerted. She nodded to Carl.
“Now, I think. We’ll pincer them between us, the tower and Urthos’s band.”
Without hesitation Carl plunged back into the creek as Drustina and the young prince followed. Dalcimon naturally held back for she had neither sword nor martial skills.
The Belgiie group were too pre-occupied fighting Urthos’s band to notice the trio swimming across the creek behind them. The trio emerged un-noticed and immediately attacked the Belgiie group from behind. Three were dead before the usurpers realised they were under attack from behind and the ensuing shock totally demoralised them. They surrendered immediately and Andrar was surprised to see Drustina accept their surrender.
As the group were being secured he asked Drustina.
“You gave the Vikings no quarter before; why are you accepting terms for these traitors?”
Carl answered for Drustina as she went to speak to Urthos.
“Intelligence lad, we need information, who, where, what, when, why and how. Your mother definitely needs to know her enemies.”
“Ah. I see.” Andrar grinned, he was learning with every battle.
As the Belgiie were finally secured, Carl greeted Urthos.
“Where’s Eric?”
“Gone to the town-hall, we think the women ran there for refuge when the fighting started. We thought Dalcimon was there.”
“Didn’t Hengis tell you she was with us?” Carl wondered.
“It was pandemonium at first before we gathered our wits. Hengis didn’t have time to tell anybody anything. He just raised the alarm and carried on fighting furiously to give us time to get organised.”
“Is he okay?”
“He was the last time I saw him, then we got separated as he and Eric fought their way into town. Hengis did well. I’m hoping he’s reached the town-hall.”
Carl nodded then looked at Urthos’s arm.
“You’d better get that wound seen to and look after Queen Dalcimon. That’s her just coming out of the creek. Dru and I will head for the town hall. We’ll see if her sister Tara and the twins are okay.”
Urthos nodded as Andrar piped up.
“Can I come with you? I can lend an extra sword.”
Carl glanced questioningly to Drustina who shrugged and nodded. It seemed the battle was still going on near the town-hall. They gathered the majority of Urthos’s men and set off towards the clamour of the battle.
Once again they chose a circular route and sneaked up behind the main body of Belgiie; and again, their sudden appearance un-nerved the Belgiie and they sued for quarter. Drustina gave it then dashed into the main hall to check on the women. She was relieved and pleased to find them unharmed and she emerged in a forgiving mood for the Belgiie had proved to be honourable men; they had not harmed any women or children.
Queen Dalcimon was all for executing the leaders out of hand but Drustina had learned a thing or two since her later battles in Polaski, Dane-mark and Svenland. When calls were made for a gallows to be erected, Drustina enforced her will. At first, even her loyal commanders were bemused but she drew them aside from the clamour for blood and explained.
“Listen Carl, Urthos, Eric, I have no gripe with the Belgiie, nor have the Saxons, nor the Gauls. These are dead men walking if Dalcimon has her way but I can use them. The Belgiie are under vassalage to the Frankish king and I have learned, as you have during the negotiations of the Anti-Viking pact that the Frankish king is not a very nice fellow. He more-or-less imposed his niece Dalcimon onto the Friesian chief just to try and gain suzerainty over this tiny kingdom. If he gets word of this rebellion he will probably punish the whole tribe of the Belgiie for kidnapping his niece and I won’t let that happen. I’m sick of seeing women butchered cos’ that’s what it usually boils down to.”
“So?” Asked Eric. “Dalcimon’s got just cause to call for their executions.”
Drustina frowned.
“You all know what it’s like to be enslaved. The Belgiie are in vassalage to the Franks. Everybody wants freedom.”
“So what are you getting at?” Urthos wondered.
“I need warriors if I’m to get back my homeland of Lleyn. These guys face either execution if they’re officers or enslavement if they’re just common soldiers. I’m prepared to offer these guys manumission or pardon if they are prepared to follow me.”
“How can you be sure they won’t betray you or murder you the moment your back is turned?” Carl demanded.
“Just let Dalcimon execute a few officers first, that’ll concentrate their minds first. Then I’ll step in with my offer. I have no fight with the Belgiie and they know they’ll never be able to return to their tribal lands again. Dalcimon’s uncle will hunt them down like deer.”
Eric nodded thoughtfully.
“It makes some sense Dru, but Carl’s worries are justified.”
“But I need an army Eric. Just look how my companions are drifting away. Why even you yourself have designs on Dalcimon. Urthos wants to return to Gaul, most of the Saxons are angling to get home except Carl and a few score who are like him, looking for their families in Britannia after the famine in Saxony. Nearly all of the ex nuns have got Saxon husbands, so they’ll be looking to settle with them in Saxony. There’s nearly three hundred Belgiie still alive, they’d make a useful force provided I can win their loyalty and their respect.”
Carl smiled and nodded.
“Well you’re good at that Dru. By the Gods, if there’s one thing you can do, it’s win men’s loyalty and affections.”
Drustina smiled gratefully but she was still worried by his earlier statement; ‘What if the Belgiie did prove disloyal?’ She took Carl to one side and had a quiet chat.
“Listen Carl, I’ve got a plan. I know this makes me look like a cruel uncaring bitch but hear me out. When Dalcimon starts her executions it might behove us to let the officers be executed. I will not be there initially, let’s say I’ve got some business on the ships. You can also make yourself scarce but just keep an eye out to see how the executions are going. The last thing I want is Belgiie officers questioning my wisdom at some later date.
If you secrete yourself so that you cannot be seen but you can see the executions then you can make some mild protest and pretend to run off to find me to put a stop to the executions. That way, I will appear as some sort of saint to them for after all, we were fighting in the streets not an hour ago.”
“D’you think they’ll fall for it?”
“I’ll admit it’s just a bit of theatre but action speaks louder than words. If they actually see me remonstrating with Dalcimon and then stopping the executions, I’m pretty sure they’ll see me as some sort of saviour. I think most of them will fall for it.”
Carl smiled and wagged his head in mild amusement.
“By the gods Dru, you’re one cunning bitch! I’m beginning to think you used some sort of subterfuge to free us from the moors.”
“Hey! I rescued you didn’t I!? And I’ve seen you right every time we’ve gone into battle. I’m not some sort of con-artist. I’ll be offering these bloody Belgiie a genuine salvation and return to freedom. It’ll be death, enslavement and/or banishment from their homelands if I don’t.”
“Well, I’ll not argue with that. Come on let’s do it. You’d best pretend your checking out Tara and the twins then I’ll come looking for you.”
Drustina’s plan worked reasonably well.
Dalcimon and her son Andrar did not even bother with the fiction of some sort of trial. Within the hour, a chopping block had been placed under the tree that served as an open-air meeting space and the first leaders of the coup were brought forward. A rope was hung from the lowest suitable branch and a large sword was placed across the chopping block. As each officer was brought forward he was asked if he preferred hanging or beheading.
Playing exactly to script, Carl watched the first beheading then he approached Dalcimon respectfully and voiced his supposed concerns.
“Your majesty, would it not be a good idea to give these rogues a chance to explain their reasons for attacking Hoek?”
“I don’t think so. They attacked me and my son without warning and they locked me up in the Watch-tower with obvious intentions to murder us.”
“But up until that point they had attacked nobody. All they did was gag you, bind you and hide you away.”
“With obvious intentions to murder us!” Andrar added, supporting his mother.
“You were alive when Queen Drustina found you and you are alive now. I think these men should be given a fair hearing.”
“They didn’t give me a fair hearing; they just snared me, tied me up and locked me away.”
“They didn’t kill you Your Majesty. The battle afterwards was simply that, a battle, a war. Some of these men may not have had a choice.”
Dalcimon then let slip a tiny light onto her true nature. Having been born a royal princess and niece to the Frankish king she had a very high opinion of her status and worth. Carl frowned as she adopted a further high-handed attitude.
“It’s not your concern soldier. They kidnapped a queen, they die; all of them!”
Carl frowned and muttered but secretly he was pleased. Things were going to plan. He enacted the next step.
“This isn’t right. I’m going to get Drustina.”
Dalcimon smirked haughtily.
“She is a queen. She will agree with me.”
“Then please Your Majesty, hold these executions in abeyance until she learns of them. Perhaps she might feel differently. She is attending to our womenfolk in the great hall. It will be but a moment to fetch her here.”
Dalcimon snorted impatiently but it was Andrar who persuaded his mother to wait. He had fought alongside Drustina three times now and he had learned much from her of other matters besides just fighting.
“Perhaps Carl is right mummy. Drustina is a very wise woman. I would like to hear what she might feel about this.”
Dalcimon pursed her lips and signalled to the executioners.
“Very well. Stop what you’re doing men and fetch The Lioness!”
Carl and the chief executioner trotted to the great hall to find Drustina playing with the children in a scene of idyllic bliss. She looked up with seeming surprise and asked.
“Hello Carl, what brings you to the women’s hall?”
“We have a problem Dru. Queen Dalcimon is executing the Belgiie without hearings or a trial.”
“Really?” Drustina turned to the chief executioner. “Is this true?”
He nodded his head and exposed his bloodied hands where the sword had already beheaded the chief commanders. Drustina pretended shock and revulsion. Carl struggled to suppress his smile as he beheld Drustina’s acting skills.
“We’d best return to the executions Dru. Even Andrar seems somewhat perturbed by events.”
Drustina gave an angry sigh, put down the toy she had been entertaining her twins with, and belted on her sword. She complained for all to hear but mainly for the executioner’s ears.
“Is there no peace? Can I not even play with the children for a moment?”
The executioner shrugged apologetically and the three stepped out. Carl was want to trot but Drustina restrained him.
“Let’s just walk Carl; it might give her time to calm down. I can understand her anger.”
The executioner added.
“She seemed more impatient than angry Your Majesty. If we’re delayed she might resume the killing.”
“Oh very well. You run on ahead and tell her I’m coming.”
The executioner seemed keen to report to his queen and quickly trotted ahead. It gave Drustina the chance to prepare the next little cameo.
“I will pretend shock and despair then you can suggest that we offer the men salvation. I will agree with you and ask Dalcimon to spare the men. I suspect the senior officers, the ring-leaders, are already executed anyway. The ordinary troops will probably jump at the chance. We’ll try playing it this way first.”
Carl nodded and they speeded their stride to enter the meeting place where the beheaded officer’s bodies still lay where they fell. Drustina feigned repugnance.
“Get those bodies covered. Show them some respect!”
At this remark, Dalcimon’s confident haughtiness desisted. She looked questioningly at her son Andrar who nodded imperceptibly towards Drustina and wagged his head. He was telling his mother that Drustina was not entirely happy with the scene of carnage. Drustina reinforced this image by bending over the bodies and wagging her head in seeming disapproval. Dalcimon questioned her.
“Do you disapprove?”
“Not of the executions but my commander Carl tells me there was no inquisition, no trial as such.”
“They were obviously guilty. I was the prime witness!”
“Perhaps these dead officers, these leaders were guilty, yes; maybe. But many of these others are just foot-soldiers, doing as they are told, going where they were led.”
“They were all volunteers. They volunteered to come here from Belgia.”
“My commander Carl tells me that some of them only volunteered to fight the Vikings, possibly as a way of persuading the Frankish king — your uncle, to slacken his stranglehold on their tribal land. I don’t think their guilt is as clear cut as you say.”
“How am I to determine the difference, the innocents and the guilty?”
Drustina took a deep patient breath as she pointed out the obvious.
“By speaking to them Dalcimon, by asking them; so far you have found out nothing of their motivations, their aspirations. “
“I want no part of them or their treachery. They must all die!”
“Will you let me question them first?”
“That will take weeks. There are still three hundred of them to be executed. Who is to feed and detain them while you indulge your whim?”
“It’s not a whim Dalcimon. It is a duty. I do not want my reputation besmirched by unnecessary blood and butchery. I want no part of your vengeance.”
“It’s not vengeance, it’s justice.”
“Not without ascertaining the truth and all the facts. You will gather to yourself a reputation for cruelty and injustice. People and nations will shun you, the very future of your new-found city of Hoek will fail without trade; friendly, humanitarian, open and honest trade. If you gain a reputation for butchery, traders will avoid this place despite its exquisitely perfect location.”
“But I cannot keep them here, under guard. There is not food enough in the town. The garrison and the wars have bled my few granaries dry!” Even as we speak, my Chamberlin is writing letters to encourage trade enough to feed my people through the winter.”
Drustina saw her opening.
“Then let me be responsible for feeding them. Let me take them henceforth on my own search, to Britannia, to Wessex, Dumnoniia, Cambria and finally Lleyn. I have ships enough to carry them, my own mermaid ships, Sister Catherine’s pair of trading ships and the two extra Viking ships we have just captured. You can keep the ones your men captured. That’s fair exchange.”
At these words Andrar piped up eagerly.
“That’s a good deal mum, that means we get to keep four of the other captured Viking ships plus the stranded ship that I captured.”
Dalcimon ignored Andrar’s words as she continued interrogating Drustina.
“How will you feed them? Where will you hold them whilst you question them?”
“I have stores enough for five weeks. I can take these men away with me and remove the threat to your throne and possibly your life.”
“It’s not as easy as it seems Lioness.” Dalcimon frowned. “My uncle will not take kindly to my releasing these traitors. Their plan was to ransom me for their independence.”
Drustina sucked her tongue thoughtfully.
“You’re missing the bigger picture here Dalcimon. The main threat is still the Viking raiders. The Belgiie lands lie to the north of the Frankish realm so that makes Belgia and Frankia therefore vulnerable to further Viking raids even if it’s next year. If I take these three hundred men and mould them into a decent naval force, they will become a major deterrent to the Vikings all around the Northern seas and the Celtic waters.”
Dalcimon hesitated.
“But how will you convince my uncle that you can deter the Vikings? You never know where the Vikings will pop up?”
Drustina smiled patronisingly.
“The Vikings are everywhere, they are like a plague. Everybody fears them, Saxons, Fresians, Danes, Mercians, Engles, Belgiie, Franks, Celts, Picts, Scots, Britons; -any tribe that has a coastline. Nobody is safe from them. If we are at sea more than a fortnight, especially around the coasts of Britannia and Frankia then we will be bound to meet up with a Viking ship or ships. The objective is to attack them where we find them and, with our faster ships, overwhelm them. After a year of never knowing where we are, they will be just as nervous of piracy as all other sailors are afraid of them . My plan is to sail around Southern Britannia and if we see a Viking ship or ships, we attack them and destroy them.”
“What happens if you come upon a raiding fleet?”
“If it’s too powerful we run away, if we think we can defeat it, we will.”
“But once you leave here there’s no knowing where you’ll go. It’s here in Northern Europa that the Vikings seem to be raiding this year.”
“The raiding season is virtually over. They’ll be returning home these days. I have this winter to train up a useful force of Seamen. Three hundred Belgiie will be a damned handy addition to my forces, I can’t be here for you after this winter, I want to go home to Lleyn and these are just about the only force that I can find who will be motivated enough to stay with me. They’re currently under a death sentence so they’ll be keen to escape that. Dalcimon, believe me I want those men, I need those men and if I have to, I’ll take them from you.”
Dalcimon turned white with anger.
“How dare you threaten me in my own kingdom!”
Drustina sighed patiently.
“I did not threaten you, I simply said I will take these men. They are no use to you either dead or alive because they are a threat to you. They are of some use to me alive and I think I can mould them into something resembling a fighting force. When I leave this place for my homeland, over two thirds of my original men will be staying behind. Lots have offered to stay here in Hoek because it has prospects now that some sort of peace is enduring. You would do well to consider the bargain. You have nearly two hundred proven warriors here. Many of them have good, educated wives who will give you the proven kernel of a fine city though some will want to return to Saxony. They are Saxons and they have always intended to return to their homes when or more correctly, if I delivered them safely.
They are safe now and our contract is over. The only Saxon men who will follow me to the Western ends of this world are those,
like me, who have no known family, or like me, believe they may be alive in Britannia. The Belgiie men I wish to take from you and come with me are criminals as far as you are concerned, but I see them simply as men; men who only want what I want, a homeland where they can rule themselves and be free from the yoke of some tyrant king. I think trading two hundred good, happy Saxon men with good wives and who are brothers to the Fresians and the Engles are a good swap for three hundred frightened, disgruntled Belgiie who are under threat of execution.
You get a ready-made population for your town, I get trouble; three hundred men who are homeless and wifeless . That’s the deal I am offering you; I recommend you take it.”
Dalcimon hesitated, she had not considered the positives because her anger had been all consuming. She had also been slightly fearful of the uncle the Frankish king for Drustina had told the truth and hit a nerve, ‘her uncle was a brute and cruel with it.’ He had forced her father , his younger brother to virtually barter his daughters for political ends and alliances.
‘Had she not been virtually a child bride when she had been forcibly married her previous husband? There was little love there and secretly, Dalcimon had been relieved when he was killed by the raiding Vikings. The only pleasure she had got from her first marriage was her son Andrar. Even as these thoughts tormented her that very son spoke from behind her shoulder.
“Take the deal mum, it’s good one and it demonstrates to our uncle that you are now a ruler in your own right. He dare not attack you, we have a proven core of experienced warriors, and your new boyfriend is an experienced leader and general. By accepting Drustina’s offer, we get rid of two threats; namely disaffected Belgiie who live just across the river and a bullying Frankish Uncle. Besides the anti Viking alliance is strong for the Saxons and the Fresians are keen to make it stick.”
Drustina smiled at Andrar and nodded as Eric also nodded as he added his thoughts.
“The boy’s right Dalcimon my dear. It’s a good deal. Drustina’s deals usually are.”
His reassuring words finally swayed it for Dalcimon and she sagged thankfully as the last doubts were removed from her mind. She nodded consent.
“Very well Drustina, you can have the prisoners. When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as everything is settled here, as soon as your city is defendable, probably the onset of next spring. That will give you time to prepare for any further Viking raids. When the sailing season returns next year, I will set forth for Lleyn. I don’t expect it to be an easy journey for there are many issues to be resolved not least the issue of my last remaining commander Carl. He desperately needs to find his siblings and the last report was of them having fled the famine for Britannia. I’ve no doubt many of my other Saxon followers have similar concerns.”
“And what of these Belgiie scum. Will they remain peaceful while you remain here, can you trust them. I can’t.”
Drustina shrugged.
“Frankly, I don’t know. I need to find out what ties they have left with their motherland. I’m sure some of them will have families, wives even; but until I interrogate each one I cannot give you a firm answer to anything.”
“Huh! Three hundred criminals to interrogate and all the while to be fed and housed.”
Drustina became impatient.
“You only see problems Dalcimon, you never look for solutions. Even your own son shows a more positive view than you. I am sure the men will accept being disarmed and put to paid work, building more defences and improving the town. Building a stone town hall would be a start, something weatherproof and permanent. Somewhere that can double as accommodation as well as a meeting place and storage granary. Somewhere for you to live, no less. But mostly there needs to be improvements to the defences, the dock and the streets. All this will need labour and here are three hundred men who have various skills.”
“Who will pay for all this work.”
“It’s about time you learned your monarchical duties. You will have to raise funds, raise taxes either in coin or kind.”
“There is little money in the town.”
Even as Dalcimon said this, there was a small commotion in the street that led to the dock. A Danish merchant ship had arrived from Yorvik in Dane-law, Britannia, laden with assorted goods. Drustina motioned her head towards the newly built dock and replied.
“Look! There is your money. Trade and shipping. Within a month I will wager that you will have had over a dozen ships coming here and all keen to trade. Once the traders know it is a safe, fair and honest port they will flock to your docks and wharves. My promise is this. Until the spring of next year, I will remain with these ‘Scum’ as you call them and provide you with labour enough to build a secure town in exchange for winter accommodation for my men and my ships. Is that a deal?”
Dalcimon finally agreed and they made their way to the newly docked ship to see what goods were available.
~~ooo000ooo~~
This chapter addresses a brief and successful confrontation with the Vikings that serves to better Drustina's standing with the Saxons of Wessex. She rescues two high-born Saxon brides and captures a Viking princess, daughter of King Harald Cold Blood.
The Angry Mermaid 69.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 69
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana... . The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun... . Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon.... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar.... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus... . Carl’s stallion.
Heliox.... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Chapter 69.
Drustina’s promise to Dalcimon proved a hard one to keep. Of the three hundred condemned Belgiie rebels whom she saved from certain execution, only about two hundred kept to their promise to join her band of warriors and support her in her quest.
During the cold winter months nearly a hundred rebels absconded one way or another. Mostly by joining the trading ships as crew and slipping away without being missed for a few hours ... long enough to be away and gone beyond Drustina’s reach.
When they were reported missing Drustina simply had to accept the defections. In truth she did not want pressed men who might prove to be resentful and thus unreliable or even treacherous when push came to shove in a battle. After a couple of weeks steady haemorrhaging Carl also became inured to the weekly accounting of defaulters. He agreed with his leader that they would be better off with only men they could trust.
Through the winter Drustina’s loyal Saxons devoted their time helping both the Belgiie and the townsfolk to improve the town whilst also building four more ‘Mermaid’ class ships. As spring approached, they were satisfied to have a fleet comprising a dozen ‘Mermaid’ class, ten captured Viking longships and two fast trading ships that Sister Catherine had exchanged for her bulky merchant ship. The old Baltic two-masted prow was proving a boon for ferrying valuable stone from the open ‘storm-beach’ and various other locations back to Hoek where there was a dearth of stone to be found amidst the estuarine marshes and creeks. Her fat belly and flat bottom was excellent for carrying large bulky cargoes but too slow for the trip that Drustina anticipated. Drustina needed fast ships and she was delighted when Sister Catherine revealed the fruits of her bargaining.
“Why these are excellent craft Cathy! And I see they’ve got sheltered holds to protect their cargoes. You can spot a bargain, can’t you? Who on earth did you persuade to part with these?”
Sister Catherine blushed before confessing she had seen a similar ship arrive in the autumn from up river and, after teaching an upriver boat-builder’s children to read and write, he had agreed to build her two adapted versions with enclosed decks and cargo holds in exchange for her ship and the contract to haul stone back and forth to Hoek.
“I need hardly tell you it was a done deal Dru,” Sister Catherine grinned. “I have no further use for the stone contract because I am coming with you. If you’re agreeable, I would like to continue handling the logistics of supplying your fleet as I have done since Ganske.”
“That would be my most fervent wish dear Cathy. I was afraid to ask because I thought you and Urthos looked like becoming an item.”
Sister Catherine shuddered.
“No thank you Dru! I love the man for he is truly a kindred spirit but, he returns to Christian Gaul and that is a backward step as far as I am concerned. I cannot live with that so-called faith and the cruelties to women it perpetuates.”
Drustina nodded slowly; she fully understood what Sister Catherine meant.
‘Still,’ Drustina reflected, ‘Gaul’s loss was her gain.'
The pair exchanged knowing looks and continued walking along the quay to where Drustina’s beloved Mermaid lay awaiting her captain’s pleasure. Catherine sensed a warmth emanating from Drustina and she smiled knowingly.
“You’re itching to be gone, I can tell.”
“Aye. The vernal equinox is but a week away and I’ll be gone the night before it.” Drustina murmured.
“Oh, that’s the first anybody knows of it.” Catherine replied.
“Keep it quiet then. Just make sure your ships are ready and loaded.”
“They already are,” Catherine declared, “as ready as they can be save for foodstuffs and water. There’s even room for your and
Tara’s horses, Seripatese and Capenda. Carl’s horse Jupus will travel in the other ship.”
“Oh. He’ll be pleased to keep his horse. It’s a fine animal; he needs a strong big horse.”
“Yes, a powerful stallion but not as fast as your little mare, nor as manoeuvrable.”
“Horses for courses sister Cathy. It’s a large, powerful horse that will frighten a foot-soldier by sheer size alone. Come let’s go and eat.”
And so the spring equinox arrived. On the day before March the twenty-first with no fanfare, Drustina’s fleet left Hoek. Having come in like a lamb that year, March lived up to its reputation and went out like a lion; and a south-westerly lion at that. Drustina’s fleet had a hard time of it for fully five days as it beat into the persistent gale of wind. Eventually supplies started running low. Sister Catherine’s ships could only carry so much. It seemed that the narrow channel was designed by the gods themselves to deter all but the most competent and tenacious seamen from ever passing south and west around the isle of
Britannia. Drustina reflected privately as she kept perpetually checking her fleet and counting sails to ensure all were in sight of each other if not in close attendance. The gale prevented them keeping close order, each ship needed plenty of room to manoeuvre.
‘It’s no wonder the residents of the island whether Briton, Dane, Saxon, Gaul, Frank, Mercian, Celt, Pict, Scot or Viking where all of necessity, good seamen.' Drustina reflected. 'Even she herself had sailed alone around Ynys Mon before her twelfth birthday and that included the Straits of Menai with its treacherous currents and whirlpools.’
Suddenly a shout dragged her from her reflections and she answered.
“What is it?”
“Two sails to the north mi-lady. Two merchantmen and close under the tall white cliffs.”
“Ignore them. They look as though they have problems enough getting off that lee shore. It was stupid of them to go so close in this wind. Are they making way?”
“It looks like it ma-am. Yes they’re just clawing their way clear but they’re going about it by a strange route. They should turn about and go north-east with the wind abaft their beam.”
As she exchanged information with the lookout perched high up the mast of The Angry Mermaid, a signal arrow shot skywards from Carl’s ship which was riding picket in the most north-easterly corner of the formation. It could only mean some sort of problem so Drustina ordered her Belgiie helmsman to ready about. Within seconds they were running free and almost planing to rendezvous with Carl. As she drew abreast of her second-in-command’s ship, Drustina needed no further communication. The north-east horizon was spotted with a dozen Viking masts and it was obvious they had the two merchant ships under the white cliffs in their sights. The Viking longships had oars and sail so they could safely pass right inshore under the cliffs and make progress even in the teeth of the gale. The two merchantmen were simply sailing ships and forced to tack constantly as they tried desperately to make southing and westing as they struggled to avoid the Viking wolves whilst yet clawing their way off the lee shore.
For the merchantmen it was a lost battle and Drustina knew it! Unless she intervened with her twelve Mermaid class ships backed up by her captured Viking prizes the merchantmen were done for.
She nodded to her signalman and a trio of signal arrows conveyed her intent to the whole fleet. Each captain knew his role for they had practiced many manoeuvres during the winter months in Hoek. As though guided by some invisible spirit, the whole fighting arm of Drustina’s fleet turned to face the Vikings whilst Sister Catherine commanded her supply train to keep Drustina’s ships between her and the Vikings. Everybody could see that a dozen Viking ships was not an invasion force, it was simply a pirate force bent on robbing honest traders or attacking settlements as and where they found them ashore or afloat.
Drustina watched her captains carefully to double check they were positioning themselves correctly and save for one, they entered a perfect formation. As the second in command and nearest to the wayward ship, Carl quickly fell upon the blunderer and put him right. Drustina smiled as she gauged their advantage. Her ships had the weather edge whilst the Vikings were now trapped between her fleet and the dreaded Godwin sands. Once again, Drustina was thankful she had trusted her Belgiie conscripts and found amongst them several fishermen who knew the Kent coast and off lying shoals like the backs of their hands. The most experienced amongst them was a man called Heliox who had fished these waters with his father since he was but a child. A young man in his twentieth year, he served on The Angry Mermaid as Drustina’s assistant navigator. She turned to him as he was spotting marks on the Kentish coast.
“Can they slip us?”
“The northernmost ones can get away to the north and east but the bulk of them must either face us or fetch up on the South Godwin bank. That’s certain death in this South-westerly gale. They have no choice but to face us.”
Drustina felt a satisfied lump calm her stomach.
“Good. We outnumber them, we’ve got the weather gauge and we’re more manoeuvrable. Signal to everybody to engage as per the plan.”
“As in every battle, plans rarely survive the first engagement, but the plan was not the main advantage that Drustina enjoyed. It was her weather gauge and her fleet’s freedom to roam as the wind took them.”
Despite the Viking ships having oars, their oarsmen where spent for they had been steadily rowing to overhaul their merchantmen prey for a full four hours since the dawn, and that into the teeth of the gale. As they were called upon to ship their oars and face Drustina’s ships, many of the Vikings were already exhausted and of little use save to swing a sword if and when their unrecognized enemy chose to lay alongside and fight it out.
Drustina however, had no intentions of ‘Fighting it out’ she simply maintained station to the South and West of the Viking fleet as the wind took both fleets closer and closer to the South Godwin sands.
Eventually, as the roar of breakers finally made themselves heard above the screech of the gale, the Viking captains realised they were drifting onto a vast sandbank that had been invisible behind the towering surf until the noise of crashing waves alerted them.
Amidst screams of urgency and panic, oars were frantically shipped again even as the rising surf was starting to heap up and toss the Vikings wildly. From the slightly calmer waters to the South-west, Drustina chose her moment well and unleashed salvo after salvo of arrows into each ship to disable the rowers and sow confusion. Her plan worked well and immediately four ships lost their rowing rhythms and were broached over the towering crests into the thunderous surf. Her men watched mesmerised as the Viking cries carried across to them even over the crashing roar of the surf and the screaming of the wind.
For no loss, Drustina had despatched a third of the Viking force and she still had the weather gauge. However she could allow no more northing or her own fleet would have entered the setting heave of the rising surf that was impossible to resist. They themselves would have been drawn over the breakers and into the same crashing cauldron of death. She signalled to withdraw and as one, her fleet turned to starboard and onto a broad reach would quickly take them due east away from the Godwin death-trap that was Neptune’s locker. She watched with Satisfaction as the remaining Viking ships, already cast between the rising surf swell and the Godwin bank, were frantically rowing North and east to pass desperately along the South Western foot of the lethal sands and make for safer waters around the Noord-hinder deeps. Even as Drustina watched from the safety of the deeper channel she and her fleet saw a fifth Viking ship fail to keep rowing fast enough and thus be carried inexorably onto the south-eastern tail of the Godwin. It slewed around and capsized as it broached the surf, thus tipping its crew into the crashing shallows. Many men made it onto the bank only to wonder if their comrades might later rescue them when the gale had abated. Or would they be left to their own inadequate devices and find some way of crossing over the sandbank at the lowest state of the equinoxial tide that was due in a couple of nights. Even if they managed this task they would still find it hard going wading and swimming across ‘The Downs’ channel to safety on the East Kent shore. Drustina debated leaving them to their fate or rescuing one or two at a later time and perhaps interrogating them for information.
At that moment though, she still had seven Viking pirate ships remaining and now she had to rethink her next plan for they were desperately trying to escape whilst her ships had become scattered during the attack. She wondered if she should split her forces and despatch a couple of the Mermaid class to contact the frightened merchantmen and reassure them she intended no harm to them. She could not send any of her long ships for that would simply frighten them further into some possible rashness that could endanger themselves. It had to be the Mermaid ships, if at all. They were the only ships fast enough to carry information to and from Drustina’s scattered forces. There was also the matter of Catherine and the supply train.
Drustina’s fighters were getting hungry and where were her two ships with all the food now?
Unfortunately, the gales had eventually brought the rain and visibility was deteriorating. She had to gather her forces and reassemble them but already, some were out of sight in the rain. To this end she fired off some signal arrows and was reassured to see her ships transmitting her orders to each other until each ship understood what was wanted; a rendezvous.
Eventually she counted all her warships except Sister Catherine’s two supply vessels.
‘Dammit’ she cursed, ‘we’ll have to locate them. My men are getting hungry and this rain doesn’t help.’ She signalled for her ships to spread out in a line whilst each one kept in sight of the next thus forming a search line to locate Sister Catherine. Each ship was to release a fire arrow every hour to declare they were okay and if anybody found Sister Catherine, they were to fire off four arrows.
Thus organised they soon found their supplies and were pleasantly surprised to find that Sister Catherine had contacted the two frightened merchant ships. She had advised them to temporarily join their convoy. The merchantmen were still wary for these were dangerous times so they stood off a little distance as Drustina’s fleet prepared to re-victual. Soon the warships were queuing up around their supply ships and the crews were eating gratefully as darkness descended. The sea was still too rough to exchange boats but the food bags were easily thrown across the waves from supply ship to each individual warship. To reassure the two frightened merchantmen further, Drustina decided to wait until dawn before talking to them.
By the morning, the gale and the rains had passed; the sea was manageable so Drustina demonstrated her honest intentions to the two wary merchantmen by herself approaching them in her own ‘jolly-boat’. They were shocked to learn that their rescuer was a woman but such was The Lioness’s reputation that they quickly realised they had been rescued and made safe. The wary looks turned to smiles as they eagerly welcomed her aboard. The leader of the merchantmen thanked her profusely.
“If there is anything we can offer you, it is yours to take. We are indebted to you!”
“All I want is information. How is the situation in this part of Britannia, who is at war with who, where have you come from, where are you bound? What places are safe?”
The merchant grinned.
“I should wonder with a fleet that put a whole Viking navy to flight, you would be safe and welcome landing anywhere in Britannia ... or Frankia for that matter.”
Drustina frowned slightly. It was not wise to let tales be exaggerated and stories become wild rumours. She quickly corrected the merchant.
“It was hardly a Viking navy sir. It was but a squadron at best. Twelve longships were all that my men counted. Now reduced to seven.”
“But even so, nobody so far has ever put these pirates, these wolves to such utter disaster.”
“Well that’s of no consequence now. What I need to know is where I can go without fear of attack? Where can my ships safely rest over for a few days and we can buy supplies.”
“Buy supplies. By the gods Lioness; I shouldn’t wonder that every settlement from here to Solanta would welcome you with open arms for driving those thieves away. They would throw supplies at you for free!”
Drustina paused and turned to her Belgiie navigator.
“Solanta; where’s that Heliox?”
“I’ve heard of it ma-am but I have never sailed there. I have heard it is on the coast of South Britannia but I do not know exactly where; fishing boats have little need to journey great distances.
The merchant was listening and quickly interrupted.
“Oh it is no great distance Lioness. That is our final destination but first we have goods to trade on the River Arun.”
“Is that a safe haven for my ships?”
“No Lioness, it is just a river with a small quay. You could not encompass all your ships in such a small creek. Solanta is by far the safest place big enough to accept all your ships. There is a large inlet with an Island called Wigt sheltering it from the winds and seas. It is an excellent harbour with clear prospects to east and west. A hundred ships can shelter there.”
Drustina had heard of Wigt from other traders long ago in her childhood though they had referred to it by its Brithonic name of Ynys Wiig. She had been too young to take much notice but she had heard of the name. This alone re-assured her and she nodded thoughtfully.
“Could you pilot my ships there, this place called Solanta?”
“Easily Lioness. But first I beg you; I must first complete my trading at Arun.”
“There is no need to beg. You are not my bondsman. Complete your business in Arun. How long will you be?”
“Four days. One day more to reach the river, then three days discharging our grain and loading the wool. Next we have wine to trade in Sotona, that’s our next port at the top of Solanta.”
“Good. I will escort you to Arun then I have some unfinished business back where we fought the Vikings. I will return to Arun and then I would request that you pilot my fleet to this place Solanta. Hopefully I will be back in four or five days. Can I ask you to wait for me? I will pay you a pilotage fee.”
“I would willingly do it gratis Lioness and this is my reason!”
The merchant turned and called down into the hold. A pair of beautiful girls emerged and Heliox could not suppress a gasp.
“My God! No wonder you were affeared! Are these your daughters?”
The merchant hesitated then nodded.
“Yes, our enterprise is expanding. My brother stays in Friesia whilst I and my family are moving to settle in Winchester and Sotona. “
Drustina caught her second navigator Heliox eyeing the girls and they were smiling back. She turned aside and cautioned him softly.
“Down boy. These girls are not for you. Get back into the jolly-boat.”
The young Belgiie slumped disconsolately and clambered into the boat whilst Drustina finalised the rendezvous in the River Arun in five days.
“You can spend an extra day in Arun; expand your trading links perhaps. Please bear with me. The business I have to complete is not a pleasant one!”
The merchant raised a knowing eyebrow.
“Burning a few more Viking ships I hope.”
“Not intentionally. Besides my captured long-ships will stay with you and wait outside the River Arun. I suspect your human cargo requires protection now they are known. I will leave my longships and my second-in-command to provide your escort. The task I face requires speed and stealth.”
“Then I’ll ask no more.”
The merchant breathed a visible sigh of relief and shook Drustina’s hand. He was surprised by the sinewy strength in the slender calloused fingers. Drustina grinned as she replied.
“That’s good because I was not going to tell you anymore. What I intend to do may not be a pleasant task.”
The merchant’s face clouded slightly but he let the matter lie. Drustina joined Heliox in the jolly boat and cautioned him as they rejoined The Angry Mermaid.
“Those girls are too good for you lad and not a word about them when we get back!”
“Why d’you say that my lady?”
“Did you not see the rings on their fingers?”
“Yes.”
“But you did not recognise the arms set in their rings?”
“No.”
“That is the house of Gunnor. Those girls are high-born. I doubt very much if they are his daughters. The merchant is not revealing all, perhaps because his mission is a secret. Possibly he is taking the girls as brides to some Saxon chieftains.”
“If they are high-born, could we not take them and Ransom them?”
“Don’t be stupid lad. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than a pair of bloody teen-aged girls. I will need the support of the Wessex Saxons and the Mercians, if I am to confront the Vikings who have stolen my homeland. Besides, by rescuing them, I will have already endeared myself and my men to whomsoever those girls are destined to marry. Think ahead lad, look at the long term view. It’s friends and allies I’ll need if I’m to drive these Vikings from Lleyn.”
“Where is this Lleyn?”
“It’s a goodly distance from here lad. It’ll be all of summer and possibly into autumn before we reach those waters. And even then, we may well have to wait until the next year before I am set to fight them and drive them out.”
“Have you a plan?”
“No, I don’t know how things lie as yet. I have much information to glean before I make a move.”
By then they had reached the Mermaid and Drustina immediately set sail eastwards back the way she had come to see if there were any Vikings still alive on the Godwin sands. She explained the situation for the survivorsd to Heliox.
“They will have spent an uncomfortable night up to their waists in water at high tide and with the approach of the equinoxial tides, they would be drowned possibly the following night or certainly by the next tide. The tides were rising with the approach of the equinoxial spring tide that followed the astronomical equinox by fourteen days in those parts.”
The squadron of six mermaid class ships arrived off the Godwin sands during a calm spell in the winds. As they circled the entire bank they found nobody at first but just as they were preparing to depart, Heliox the deputy navigator suspected he had seen an arm waving from behind what looked like a large stranded tree-trunk.
“Just there, see, an arm and yellow hair.”
Drustina peered and finally picked up the frantic waving. She complimented Heliox.
“Well done lad! You’ve got sharp eyes. Would you like to join the landing party and take him hostage?”
Heliox’s eyes lit up and he was strapping his sword on before Drustina could blink. She grinned and cautioned him.
“Don’t be too hasty lad. A cornered Viking is a bloody dangerous one. I’ll show you why another day.”
She watched as the shore party jumped into the waist-deep water and waded towards the stranded tree. The figure stopped waving then turned and started to run away from the party. It was only as Drustina noticed the long garment that she realised the fleeing figure was a girl. She screeched across the sands to the shore-party.
“Not a hair on her head!! D’you hear me? Not a single bloody hair on her head!”
One of the shore party waved his understanding even as Heliox had sprinted across the sand to capture her. Being the youngest warrior he was the fastest.
Drustina watched fascinated as Heliox swiftly ran the girl down then made a grab for her. She span around and flashed her arm furiously causing Heliox to curse loudly. Drustina had seen the glint of a knife but so had Heliox. He stopped in his tracks and drew his sword even as the girl started backing into the sea whilst brandishing her knife. Drustina decided she had better intervene; a woman’s touch was needed here.
By the time she had crossed the sandbank, the shore-party was semi-circled around the golden haired girl as she hesitated standing waist deep in the cold water. Drustina arrived and ordered her men to step back out of earshot. Then she spoke softly to the girl.
Drustina’s obvious command of the situation told the young girl something but fear and uncertainty still registered in her snarl.
“You’ll never take me!”
“How do you mean; take you?”
“I am a maid and I’ll die one!”
So saying, she lifted her dagger to her breast in a pose that clearly intentioned suicide.
“Why would you kill yourself? I can’t rape you, I’m a woman! My men will not harm you, they obey me completely!”
The girl swallowed as her lower lip trembled.
“Who are you?”
Drustina softened her voice, partly to reassure the girl and partly to make sure the men didn’t hear.
“I think I should be asking you that young lady. I’m the one in control here and I have no intention to harm you.”
The girl hesitated again then demanded haughtily.
“I command you to declare yourself or my father will wreak terrible vengeance upon you!”
“Your father!?”
“Harald! Harald Cold-blood, the Viking king!”
“So you are royalty.”
“I am! Now declare yourself!”
Drustina smiled disarmingly for she had to admire the girl’s courage. A mere slip of a girl, perhaps fifteen years and no more, to all appearances; yet standing bravely facing a ring of armed men and a sword wielding woman ... the Lioness of Carthage’ no less.
Drustina decided to reveal herself. It could do no harm but she was curious to see how the girl reacted.
“You ask who I am — then I will tell you; not from submission or homage but because I have no need to fear a mere slip of a girl.
I am Her Majesty, Queen Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin; Duchess Royal of Portua , Guardian Supreme of the Turdetani , Captain general of the Capetani, Lioness of Carthage, Great Crocodile of the Nile, Consort to The King of Nubia, Defender of Byzantium, the Eastern Empire, Captain of the Order of the Holy Eastern Church, Commander Royal of the House of Polaner, Saviour of the house of Dane-mark, Knight benefactor of the House of Svensk; d’you want me to go on?”
The girl hesitated uncertainly for one title clearly touched a nerve. She repeated it softly.
“Lioness of Carthage you say?”
“Amongst others; yes!”
“They say she is in Dane-mark.”
Drustina turned and pointed her glittering Toledo blade towards The Angry mermaid.
“That’s a ship child! My ship, The Angry Mermaid! Ships move around; as do I.”
“It was your ships that attacked us!”
All this time Drustina had been searching her memory for the girl’s name. The trouble was King Harald had several daughters and also several sons. Finally Drustina worked it out. The oldest two daughters were married and the youngest daughter was but an adolescent.
“You are Gisela, Harald’s middle daughter, his third daughter. What in the gods names where you doing on a Viking raider? A bloody pirate ship no less!”
“It was not a raider! It was a legitimate war fleet; we are the vanguard of the main fleet!”
Drustina almost hugged herself as she learned this vital fact. The girl had not realised she had just given away valuable information. If the squadron Drustina had sent packing was the vanguard of a war fleet, the Saxons and the Franks needed to know about it! Having inadvertently garnished vital information without the Princess Gisela realising it, Drustina quickly changed the subject.
“Are you going to stand there and freeze to death or do you wish to be rescued?”
“You had better not harm me. I am pure!”
“May the gods forbid girl! I’ve no bloody intention of harming you; now get aboard my ship before you catch your death!”
Finally the princess relaxed and started to wade slowly towards Drustina. Heliox stepped forward as if to protect Drustina but she scolded him loud enough for Gisela to hear.
“Get back to the ship with the others you stupid boy. D’you think I cannot defend myself against this maid!”
Thus chastened, Heliox joined the rest of the chuckling shore party. As they turned to go back Drustina corrected herself and spoke to Heliox again.
“Oh! Have a look around first. See what else is to be recovered.”
As the girl emerged shivering either from cold or fear, Drustina noticed she was blue with cold. She whipped off her fleece-lined, sheepskin winter jerkin and held it out.
“Put this on child and I’ll get you drier clothes when we get back to the Mermaid.”
The girl snatched the thick, sheepskin jerkin and quickly put it on. She sighed with relief for the fleece was still warm from Drustina’s body. Once she was covered the girl stared at Drustina’s well-formed female form that was only covered now by a sleeved cotton chemise.
“Are you truly the Lioness of Carthage.? My father’s men have mentioned you and visitors to my father’s hall have spoken of you. They say you are a ferocious warrior and you have killed many, many men.”
“People exaggerate girl. Now let’s get back to the ship or we’ll both freeze to death out here. Give me your knife please; you’ll get it back if and when I am convinced you intend no harm to yourself or any of my men.”
The princess reluctantly handed over her knife and Drustina briskly fleeced her to make sure she carried no other weapons. Assured the girl was now un-armed, Drustina sheathed her own sword.
“Now young lady, to the ship and quickly!”
Once aboard, Drustina led Gisela to the bow cuddy and she dug out some dry clothes of her own. She held them up and instructed the maid to change from the wet gowns she was wearing. The princess Gisela sneered.
“Have you no proper gowns? Surely a queen as famous as you would have some decent apparel”
“Speak softly girl; as yet none of my men know who you are. There are some here who have suffered cruelly from Viking depredations and they would run you through without hesitation, if I were not here to protect you.
Consider this you silly girl! I have no gowns aboard this ship. It is bloody warship child and I am a warrior queen! I dress like warrior because I fight like a warrior. Now d’you want dry clothes or not.”
“Those men are looking.”
“They’ve all seen naked women; don’t be afraid, I’m protecting you now. Those men follow me and obey me out of respect and affection. They won’t attack you whilst I am in command. By the gods girl how d’you think I change in front of the men, how do you think I attend my female functions?”
Gisela swallowed then finally stripped naked as Drustina held up the outer soaking gown to offer the young princess some privacy. When Gisela was naked Drustina discreetly studied the girl’s development.
“How old are you? You can’t be more than fourteen summers.”
“I’m fourteen at the summer solstice.”
“A girl so young, sailing on a war mission. What on earth possessed your father?”
“I wanted to go, it was that or marriage to some revolting jarl.”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
Gisela shuddered.
“I would rather die. I told my father this so he gave me the opportunity to die as a warrior. I nearly did.”
“You nearly died of cold girl. That’s a stupid waste of a young life!”
“That’s your fault. You caused our ships to be wrecked.”
“They were warships girl, my ships are warships; it was a battle. I won!”
“You did not even engage us. That was a cowardly trick.”
“It was a well thought out and cleverly executed trick girl. That is war. Battles may be won by might and main but wars are won by wit and courage ... and compassion.” She added thoughtfully. “So what now princess Gisela? You are my prisoner and I can deal with you as I wish ... sell you even ... and a beauty as rare as yours would fetch a high price.”
The girl’s eyes blazed with fury but she continued in a low voice because she realised that as yet, only the Lioness knew who she was.
“How dare you threaten to sell me, to marry me off to one of your revolting jarls! I am high-born and worthy of a ransom.”
“To me you are nothing but a very pretty fourteen-year-old girl; a valuable prisoner!”
“I will not be sold, I will kill myself first!”
“I have no intention of selling you my girl. You are too valuable to me.”
“In what way?”
“That’s only for me to know but for now you remain my prisoner. I will see you come to no harm.”
Drustina lowered her voice to a whisper for she recognised a Sapphic girl when she met one.
“The men will not come near you, nor will I for I see you follow Sappho.”
Gisela paled as she realised Drustina had sussed her.
“Do not tell others, please, I beg you. Only my father knew. That is why he sent me on this expedition, to die without embarrassing the family, to die bravely as a warrior.”
“Do you want to die like a warrior?”
“No. I want to live, I want to thrive, and I want only to be left alone to find my own love.”
Drustina nodded slowly and a tiny, almost invisible smile turned her lip but Gisela’s sharp eye spotted the smile and the faintest glint of compassionate understanding in Drustina’s cold grey eyes. Gisela could not reconcile the coldness of the Lioness’s eyes with the spark of compassion but her own deep blue eyes widened with surprise ... and hope. She was about to ask further but the shore party was returning and Drustina had to attend to other matters. The Lioness shook the gown urging the girl to finish dressing then she turned to address her men.
“Did you find much?”
Heliox grinned.
“At first we found nothing mi-lady but Hengis told us to dig. The sand had already covered some artefacts but amongst the wreckage and bodies we found some swords and armour already partly buried by the sand. Lots of us now have better weapons and better armour or helmets. Some of the bodies had warm jerkins as well so we stripped them.
Drustina grinned. ‘Dead men’s clothes; hardly the way to equip her warriors but needs must’.
“Good. Just make sure you do not get mistaken for Vikings.”
Heliox’s eyes drifted in lustful speculation towards the blond-haired Viking girl.
“What of our pretty prisoner mistress?”
“Touch her and you die Heliox! Remember I am a woman too!”
For a moment Heliox was about to protest but a single warning glance from Hengis plus a whispered caution immediately silenced the horny youth.
Gisela stared gratefully at Drustina’s scarred back just before Drustina slipped her spare jerkin on and motioned the men to make course back to Arun.
It took two days to beat against the prevailing South-westerly wind but eventually Drustina’s squadron rejoined their sisters and the whole fleet anchored off the mouth of the River Arun.
During Drustina’s absence, Carl had exercised his intelligence and released each squadron of four ships to go alongside for a day to give the men some rest and recreation. The fleet was in good temper when Drustina returned. Then for the final day she took her own six smaller ships into the Arun and her own crews availed themselves of the town’s welcome. Already the news was spreading like wild fire. There was a fleet abroad in the northern seas that could meet the Vikings and defeat them. Saxon England began to look hopefully towards a year of peace and perhaps time to prepare their own credible defences.
On the fifth day, Drustina’s squadron accompanied the two Friesian merchant ships plus Sister Catherine’s pair of newly stocked supply vessels out of the River Arun. They joined with the rest of Drustina’s fleet and set sail for Solanta.
~~ooo000ooo~~
A chapter describing how Drustina confirms that the Vikings are still very active raiding Britannia and this only demonstrates that the Vikings have not yet overrun the whole of the island. Somehow the Germanic Saxon, Engle and Fresian tribes of southern Britannia are still holding their own against the Norsemen's attacks.
The Viking princess Gisela learns at first hand what the heat of battle really means.
The Angry Mermaid 70
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 70.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel.... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar ... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus .... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox.... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela.... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
Chapter 70.
In making a due westerly course Drustina’s fleet was able to make a satisfactory ‘saw-tooth’ westering tack that brought them to Ynys Wit as Drustina remembered its old Brithonic name. The Friesian merchant called it the Isle of Whit but ‘What’s in a name?’ thought Drustina as her fleet dropped Anchor in safe waters with good holding grounds in the roads north of a settlement known as Cws to Drustina as she recollected more and more of her childhood visitor’s tales. Now the settlement was called Cowes.
The Friesian merchant invited Drustina to accompany him ashore and soon their ‘jolly-boat’ was secured to a set of stone steps that served a stone quay. To Drustina’s surprise the settlement was deserted and the Merchant frowned.
“This place is thriving normally.”
“Well they left in a hurry; look around you, fires still burning in hearths, market stalls still set out. I suspect our sudden unexpected arrival might have frightened them.”
“You may be right, look here; some mother must have departed in a dreadful panic. She’s even left her baby in this cot beside the vegetable stall.”
“By the gods, is this the sort of panic the Vikings usually wreak?”
The merchant nodded.
“Sometimes; if they meet resistance they can get pretty brutal and the Saxons put up some stiff resistance; often successful if they have time to prepare. The trouble is the Vikings usually arrive suddenly and in force.”
“Like we did,” Drustina smiled ruefully as she bent down to pick the screaming child to her breast.
It fell silent and nuzzled the soft curve in search of milk but of course Drustina was dry. She smiled wryly and cast around to suddenly spot a secretive movement down a long alley. She called out in accented Saxon.
“You there! We come in peace, we are not Vikings.”
To emphasise her message she called again in her native Cymraeg. This proved beyond reasonable doubt that she was probably not a Viking and suddenly the movement emerged as a young woman.
’Probably this one’s mother,’ Drustina concluded, ‘no other person would be so desperate to reveal themselves unless it was their child in danger.’
The woman edged nervously towards the pair then called out in Saxon.
“Please don’t harm my baby!”
“I have no intention of harming your baby. He needs his mother’s milk and I am unable to offer any. Here, take him.”
Drustina’s woman’s voice and maternal observation about milk slowly convinced the young mother that it might be safe to approach the pair.
“Please promise you will not hurt me!”
Drustina became slightly impatient. It seemed the people of this settlement were traumatised by some terrible event. She spoke slowly and softly as the woman approached slowly.
“I have no intention of harming you girl. Did I not just tell you? We are not Viking raiders. Here take your son, see we have not harmed him.”
Her soft feminine tones finally convinced the girl and she reached out cautiously, Drustina handed the baby boy over then settled to sit on a barrel as the mother quickly tucked her baby under her shawl and the crying immediately stopped. Drustina smiled.
“He was hungry, why did you abandon him?”
“I thought you were more Vikings! Those are Viking ships, we would recognise them anywhere. If you are not Vikings, who are you?”
“Well we are certainly not Vikings except for one captured Viking prisoner that I hold aboard my ship. I am a Celt from Cymru, My friend the merchant is a Friesian the men and women in our fleet are all people from different tribes, mainly Saxons, Friesians and Belgiie. You are certainly right in one thing though. Those longships out there definitely are Viking ships; or more correctly, they were Viking longships. My companions and I captured them off the Viking raiders who had the temerity to try and attack us. The other, smaller, ships with the fore and aft sails have always been mine.”
“What you say you beat a Viking fleet!” The young mother gasped incredulously.
“They were not fleets; they were raiding squadrons, nary two or three dozen at any one gathering.’ They attempted to attack us and some other innocent traders but we beat them off on each occasion. Anyway, enough of tales of daring do! Where are the townsfolk? If they fled when they saw our sails find them please and tell them we mean no harm. It is our intention to make for Sotona tomorrow.”
“Where have you come from?” Asked the young mother.
“Hoek, in Western Friesia where the great Rhinus River delta meets with the sea.”
Drustina’s answer meant nothing to the girl, she knew little of geography and foreign lands thus she shrugged indifferently as she explained the absence of townsfolk.
“We were attacked by Vikings early yesterday morning but they were not sure who you were. When your sails were spotted, everybody was rounded up and taken out of town. They failed to find me because I hid with my baby amidst the stalls. They will probably be hiding in the woods yonder or in the fields behind us on the hills.”
“Did your husband abandon you and your child?”
“My husband is dead, murdered during a Viking raid last autumn.”
Drustina nodded; it was a familiar story. She prodded thoughtfully between the cobble stones gently with her sword.
‘The girl was pretty and proven. She would find another husband soon enough.’
Drustina got to her feet and stretched as the merchant stood up beside her
“We’d best get back to our ships. They’ll be waiting for some sort of response and so far they will have seen nothing.”
The young mother looked up fearfully.
“There is no need for you to go. Can you not stay awhile? They will be coming back after you have left.”
“Then we'd best go immediately,” the Friesian merchant replied, “we’re in a hurry and we are but two.”
Drustina raised her open hand and countered the merchant’s suggestion.
“No, I don't see anybody coming back yet. let's no go just yet, the girl’s still feeding her son, I noticed she was flooding when she came to us. Her breasts will be sore and swollen. Give her time to feed the boy.”
The young mother stared inquisitively at Drustina.
“You seem to know of such things, have you fed children then?”
“Yes, four.”
“But you are still young!”
“Twenty five summers girl, enough to have had four children. How old are you?”
“Fifteen summers. So who are you? What manner of woman commands fleets and defeats Vikings? But yet bears four children in so little time.”
“A lioness,” Drustina sighed. “A lioness that will fight for her cubs, her pride and her territory.”
The girl’s jaw sagged as she slowly realised who she was talking to.
“You! You are the lioness of ... the Lioness of Ca, Cal ... Where was it.”
“Carthage. Carthage in Africa.” Drustina replied patiently. “Now, I’m returning to my fleet. When you’ve finished feeding him, I suggest you go and hide again, there is no room in our little jolly-boat to take you back. I’ll be back early tomorrow morning. My friend here is going to Sotona tomorrow; I’ll be following him after midday.”
The mother frowned uncertainly.
“So why do you wish to return here? The Vikings will probably kill you.”
“I wish to sort out the situation here, to determine what exactly the Vikings did that drives people to flee in such frenzy as to abandon mothers and babies.”
The girl started to tear up as she replied.
“I can tell you what they did right now, if you please take me with you.”
“I’m sure you can tell me, but there is not room enough in the jolly boat to take you back with us. Besides I have other fish to fry; - fish I will bring back with me tomorrow.”
The mother fell silent. Drustina’s words made little sense. She nodded uncertainly in anticipation of the morrow. Drustina took her nod as leave to depart and did so. The woman made one last plea.
“Please come back tomorrow, there is much to put right. I must speak with you. My husband is dead and I am desperate to leave here.”
~o0o~
After a night at anchor abreast of the spit Drustina bid the Friesian merchant good luck with his arrival in Sotona.
“Hope to meet with you this evening after my business in Cws.”
“I don’t know what you’re up to my lady, but I’m sure I’ll be interested when I find out.”
“Oh, it’s nothing important, just teaching some young people the futility of war.”
The Merchant’s expression remained blank and he waved farewell as his two trading ships set sail up the Solanta towards Sotona. Drustina then called Heliox and Gisela to her side.
“I’m taking the Angry Mermaid and some of the other Mermaid class ships alongside in Cws. The Angry mermaid will go in first just to test the waters. Carl and Hengis are coming with us. I want you two to learn of whatever horrors might have been committed in that town. What can possibly have induced those Vikings to hide when a small jolly-boat with just two people in it, approached their quay. Why is that young mother desperate to leave?
Perhaps after learning of what happened, you might both be a bit less keen to go to war just for glory’s sake. I do not find fighting a pleasure; I strive endlessly to put right any wrongs, to return property to rightful owners, to bring any butchers to book. I do this because I count those crimes amongst those perpetrated against me and my family. You especially Gisela, I want you to learn whatever it is that your father’s men may have done.”
Both Heliox and Gisela exchanged curious looks as The Angry Mermaid weighed anchor to enter the creek on which Cws lay. As they passed the headland they saw a dozen figures gathering on the small quay. Drustina did not see the young mother but she noted that the reception committee all seemed to be men and they were all equipped for battle. She decided to take a prominent position as the Mermaid ventured alongside thus, as the ship made contact with the quay; Drustina was able to leap ashore. She surprised to see Saxons standing on the quay to meet her.
Her arrival evinced little reaction from the town’s-folk and she even had to take the Mermaid’s ropes herself to tie up. The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened as she turned to face what was a strangely unfriendly reception.
‘Nay,’ she realised, ‘a positively hostile one!’
She stepped uncertainly forward and the group on the quay tensed. A couple of hands rested upon their swords so Drustina stood still whilst she asked.
“Where is the young mother I spoke to yesterday? Where are the Vikings who attacked this town?"”
A large red bearded man stepped forward and replied.
“She does not wish to speak to you and the Vikings left in the night after counting your sails.”
Drustina hesitated as she was ‘thinking-on-her-feet’. The voice seemed to pack a lot of aggression and the man spoke again.
“We want you to leave!”
“I would wish to speak with the young mother again. Please bring her to me.”
“No! We are ordering you to leave!”
Such words served the reception committee ill. The young mother of yesterday had been overjoyed to realise Drustina was not a Viking but these men just wanted Drustina to leave. Drustina began to smell a rat. She decided to test their resolve for she had with her on the ship some seven men besides herself and Gisela. That made her eight to their dozen. Moreover, her crew had longbows as well as swords. The reception committee had only Saxon broad-swords and wooden Saxon shields. She replied as she faced them squarely.
“And if I refuse to leave?”
“We will be forced to make you. There are more of us in the town.”
This reply convinced Drustina that all was not right then she realised that the men spoke with slightly different accents to the young mother of yesterday. She tried again to reason with them.
“Please listen to me, I come in peace, I intend harm to no man but I would please speak with the young woman, the stall-holder that I spoke to yesterday. Can you please bring her to me?”
“She does not wish to see you.”
Now Drustina was convinced for the previous day, the woman had been almost desperate to speak. Feigning discouragement and disappointment, Drustina shrugged her shoulders and returned to the Mermaid. There she winked at Carl and Hengis as she explained.
“They don’t want us, it seems were not welcome, we might as well try and catch up with the merchants. Who knows what awaits them in Sotona.”
Heliox and Gisela tried to remonstrate but Drustina silenced then with a placating hand.
“Later. Once we are gone from here. Things are not right ashore”
She turned and nodded to Carl who pushed off and bore away back to their fleet. Once out of earshot they talked.
“So what d’you think?” Carl asked.
“They weren’t Saxons ...” Drustina observed.
“But - they wore Saxon apparel and they were dressed for battle.” Hengis added, “I’m hearing your thoughts. Who were they?”
“I’m not sure, they had unfamiliar accents. I suspect they are Norsemen masquerading as Saxons.”
Carl wagged his head slowly.
“They were trying to pass themselves off as Saxons, but I’m a Saxon and I’ve never heard accents like that anywhere in Saxony or Friesia for that matter.”
Drustina revealed her thoughts.
“Right gentlemen, I think a bit of spying is called for. We’ll weigh anchor and make pretence of sailing up to Sotona. When darkness falls, we’ll return with the Mermaid class ships and put some spying parties ashore. They can sneak into the town and try and find out what’s happening.”
Carl grinned.
“As ever dear leader, intelligence is all!”
“You know me Carl, know your enemies; or at least learn as much as you can.”
She turned to Heliox and Gisela.
“Do you understand what Carl just said?”
Heliox nodded vigorously whilst Gisela stayed silent.
“Yes. Don’t just go blindly into battle.” The boy replied.
Drustina smiled and turned to her lieutenants Carl and Hengis.
“The lad’s learning gentlemen; we’ll make a soldier of him yet.”
Thus decided, the plan was carried through. That night, six pairs of spies slipped ashore and returned with information enough to make a battle plan. The young mother had told the truth. The town had been occupied by Vikings only a day before Drustina’s appearance in the Solanta. However, they were only a small force and they had defeated the town’s folk more by surprise that overwhelming force. It seemed the Vikings were simply a small holding force awaiting the arrival of an invasion fleet to come soon. When Drustina’s fleet had appeared unexpectedly, they had rounded up all the towns-folk and imprisoned them in a farm some miles out of the settlement. The market stall girl and her baby had been missed in the rush. She had been too frightened and uncertain to reveal the full truth on their first encounter.
One pair of spies had even located the Viking’s ship hidden a few miles further up the Cws creek. Drustina decided that the reception committee who had spoken to her were probably the leaders and more articulate Vikings. They had almost, but not quite, passed themselves off as Saxons. Only Drustina’s feminine sensibilities and Carl’s native Saxon origins had picked up on the subtle nuances of accents.
“Their spokesman was good,” Carl conceded.
“Yes, thinking back, he was the only one who spoke to me, I suppose he’s their linguist or whatever. So gentlemen, ideas please, let’s thrash out a plan.”
With much information at their disposal they soon arrived at a satisfactory plan and they settled down to wait out the rest of the day. Weapons were checked and food consumed until darkness fell and the fleet slipped south back to Cws. Drustina landed half her forces some miles down the coast and they quickly dispersed to their allotted positions. As the first fingers of dawn clawed their way to the zenith, Drustina led her massed fleet into the harbour and landed on every available shore to capture segments of the town during some brief but furious encounters where the Vikings invariably fought to the death. Eventually Drustina’s force arrived at the centre of the town and paused to regroup whilst deciding on the next tactics. Carl, Hengis and Drustina decided that a ‘stand-up, knock-em' down’ face-off was the only solution. After resting briefly, her men burst out of the side streets onto the Market Square.
In the only fortified building overlooking the square Drustina’s band finally located the main body of the occupying Vikings.
Once again, in true Viking tradition, the die-hard warriors had gathered to fight to the death. As she hurtled into the square at the head of her men, Drustina held up her sword for silence. The speed with which the clamour died was in itself impressive and it served only to add to the sudden silence that even Drustina found slightly disorientating. It was several seconds before she found sufficient voice to offer the defending occupiers terms.
Naturally, the Vikings refused terms and secretly, Drustina was slightly relieved. She had not the stomach for a long inquisition followed invariably by semi-judicial executions. The Vikings would have preferred a swift summary death in battle to enter Valhalla with blood on their swords and proof of their courage in their fatal wounds. As a warrior herself, Drustina expected such a death herself.
‘Better a quick end than a slow, lingering agony while her body decayed as old age crept upon her.’
Then to her revulsion she spotted the young mother from the market place being held by the red-haired Viking she had spoken to earlier. Drustina felt a suspicious anger rising within her breast and she called across the silent market square.
“What business have you with the girl?”
“I believe you seemed to have developed some sort of relationship with her because you asked about her last time we met. If you want her, come and get her.”
“If you harm her, I will kill you myself!”
“The girl is ours. I repeat, if you want her, come and take her.”
Drustina seethed with frustration as she realised she might have endangered the girl by asking to see her the last time they had met on the quay. Then she sensed that the red-haired leader was bluffing about hurting the girl. From his posturing and bluster, Drustina felt there was no danger to the girl and for that she felt a tiny flicker of respect for the red-haired leader but it seemed that further dialogue was senseless.
Her men were milling around impatiently behind her and Drustina realised that restraining them wouldn’t serve any purpose. The red-
haired Viking leader stepped forward in a direct challenge and with a sickening heart, Drustina realised, talk was at an end. The man and his followers seemed determined to follow Viking traditions and die fighting or win without mercy.
With a flash of her raised sword, she urged her men forward and they rushed forward with a communal roar. Her beseechment to ensure no harm came to the girl was lost in tumult.
Heliox and Iselda hesitated momentarily as nerves immobilised them but as the massed charge overtook them, the sheer press of bodies propelled them forward.
Iselda, the Viking Princess had no intentions of fighting her countrymen but she could not resist being thrust forward by the ferocity of the charge. She let out a scream of denial and her cries distracted Drustina right at a critical moment. For a moment Drustina thought the Red-headed Viking had injured the young mother at his knee and she glanced momentarily to check the mother’s condition. Realising the young mother seemed unharmed, Drustina searched for the only other possible source of a high-pitched feminine scream. As she cast around for Iselda, she took her eye fractionally off the red-head’s giant sword.
Seeing his chance the red headed leader thrust his mighty sword towards Drustina’s left shoulder. She spotted it too late and brought her Toledo sword up with lightening speed to partially deflect the blow. However the broad-sword still managed to almost reach its mark.
Drustina felt the agonising pain as the blade sank into the left shoulder and she started to stumble. Iselda and the young Saxon mother both saw her stumble and both released simultaneous screams of despair. Their cries attracted Carl who immediately leapt sideways to stand bestride his leader’s crumpled body as he slashed a thrust at the red-head. For several seconds, Heliox stood watching stupidly; as though in a dream, before he realised he could help Carl who, by standing bestride Drustina’s wounded body, was not free to fight effectively because he could not step and dance with freedom. The red-headed Viking was coming close to defeating Carl by dint of his full manoeuvrability. Carl swore at the young navigator.
“Damn your hide lad, take him! Take him from the side while I hold him off and get myself in front of Dru.”
Heliox still stood half paralysed with fear and half fascinated at the copious flow of blood from Drustina’s shoulder. Carl swore again then bellowed with frustrated rage.
“Cancer eat me! You stupid little bugger, take him! Take him!”
Finally Heliox came to his senses and realised what was happening. He lunged at the Viking from the side and distracted the man long enough for Carl to step over Drustina’s pain wracked form and finally put himself between his leader and the Viking. The odds for Carl were now favourable for the Red-headed Viking also had Heliox to consider. The Viking gave a curse then roared to his god Odin as he realised he was done for. He raised his sword in one furious gesture of frustrated rage then lunged wildly towards Carl. Heliox saw his chance and jabbed, somewhat tentatively at the Viking’s ribs. His sword unexpectedly struck home under the Viking’s raised arm and it was enough to cause the Viking to pause with indecision. Carl needed no further opportunity. As the Viking half turned to attack the young Navigator, he presented his other side to Carl who immediately took his opportunity.
The Saxon’s sword entered the Viking’s ribs much more assuredly than Heliox’s strike and it found its mark in the Viking’s right lung. The Viking let out another roar that quickly degenerated into a bubbling gargle as blood spilled up through his mouth. As the Viking tried to draw breath again, the blood in his trachea re-entered his lungs to induce a crippling coughing fit. Unable to draw a proper breath, the Viking bent double and Carl administered the coup-de-gras as he almost cut the Viking’s head off. His second strike finished the job and the headless torso dropped to the ground while the dismembered head made a few grotesque facial expressions as it rolled to a stop at Gisela’s feet. Another girlish scream followed and its intensity actually hurt Carls ears.
“By the hounds of hell girl! Shut up! Your stupid screaming caused all this! This is war you silly little cow! This is how you die! Not a pretty sight is it.”
Even as he cursed, Carl was compelled to confront a second Viking who had already wounded Heliox and was about to avenge his red-headed leader. Carl lunged forward again and just managed to deflect the second Viking’s thrust as it sliced past Carl’s arm and grazed his cheek. The shock momentarily distracted Carl and he cursed as he winced and lurched sideways. The Viking’s eyes lit up and he made to step over Drustina and finish Carl off. He had neglected to check the state of the woman on the ground however. As he stepped over Drustina’s prostrate form she looked up and saw the ghost of a chance. Desperately she thrust her sword with her undamaged right arm up and under the Viking’s chainmail tunic. The blade entered the man’s vitals and he screamed in agonised rage as he realised he had blundered and he was now done for. As he dropped to his knees, his body fell across Drustina who groaned in further pain as his weight crushed her wounded left shoulder.
Carl motioned to Drustina’s form and cursed Gisela again.
“If she dies, so do you, you hysterical little bitch!”
The girl simply panicked and ran from the scene. Carl watched her flee but left her to it. He had far bigger problems to sort now that the battle was almost over. He looked around to see if it was safe to stop fighting and Hengis raised his sword to acknowledge his assumption of leadership as Carl bent down to attend Drustina, first by lifting the dead Viking off The Lioness.
“Are you all right Dru!”
“No I’m bloody not! Do I look alright?”
Carl sagged thankfully. ‘If Drustina was strong enough to curse there was spirit left yet in the young lioness!’
Without another word, he took his dagger and sliced away the leather of Drustina’s jerkin to reveal the sword wound.
“Can you move it; everything that is, your arm, your fingers?”
Drustina tried and cursed in pain but Carl was relieved to see her elbow and hand react as her fingers grasped weakly at Carls hand.
“I don’t think I can move my shoulder.”
“Not surprised girl, that cut goes straight into your upper arm. It’ll be a few days before you can move that. Now lie still and I’ll fetch the healer.”
Carl stepped away and sent a runner to get the healer from one of the ships. She arrived in short order and quickly attended Drustina’s shoulder.
“I don’t want you moving that arm until I’m satisfied with it. They’ll take you back to Sister Catherine’s ship where she and Tara can fix up some herbs to clean the wound.”
“What about the business here?” Drustina snapped impatiently.
“Carl and Hengis are perfectly capable of sorting this mess. Now go. These two men will stretcher you!”
Drustina cursed and Carl grinned with relief as he quickly stepped alongside her stretcher and reassured her.
“We won’t agree anything or make any deals until you're back here. Now do as the healer tells you!”
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina returns to find Cws in turmoil after the Vikings have been destroyed but Gisela stupidly escaped Drustina's protection only to be abused by the Saxon villagers after being re-captured.
Drustina finally gets to Winchester to warn the Saxon king but she finds the king pre-occupied with religious matters and the Saxons woefully unprepared.
The Angry Mermaid 71
Or,
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 71
Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twin’s grandfather.
Giana... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn... The twin’s father.
Herenoie... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon ... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar ... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus ... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox. Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
Chapter 71.
Back aboard The Angry Mermaid, the healer and Sister Catherine soon got to work on Drustina’s shoulder. Drustina’s unladylike curses and cries quickly alerted her older sister Tara who joined the pair as they applied some hot painful poultice to Drustina’s wound.
“She’s lucky it’s just a deep clean stab; no slicing, no tearing, no twisting.” Sister Catherine opined. “If she behaves herself and doesn’t try to swing her bloody sword with it for a couple of weeks, it should heal satisfactorily. “
Tara grinned.
“She was never a patient child; nor an obedient one. Bet you she’s got that poultice off before this week is out.”
“She’ll be a bloody fool if she does,” the healer added, “she was lucky not to lose the use of her arm. I’m hard put to see how the blade didn’t paralyze her arm; for life. It’s gone deep enough to do some serious damage. Now sit up girl!”
Drustina grumbled as she pushed herself up with her good arm then lost her balance. Tara just managed to steady her as she started to twist awkwardly. The healer scolded her.
“Not like that you fool! If you had toppled over who knows what you might have done to that arm. Just accept other people’s help for the next two weeks or you’ll lose that arm!!!”
“Do as she tells you for once sister! You always were a disobedient kid! Now eat this.”
Drustina sniffed irritably but already she could feel the poultice starting to do its work. The pain was easing. She settled back against the upright cushion and grudgingly accepted Tara’s admonishment as her older sister presented her with a bowl of chicken stew.
“Ugh! What’s that?”
“It’s stew! Chicken stew, now you need to eat to keep up your strength, so eat!”
“What’s wrong with mutton, that’s what mum always gave us?”
Tara cursed scornfully.
“Where the hell d’you expect me to get a sheep from at this short notice you stupid bitch. Besides, chicken’s better, everybody says so. The healer says so.”
Drustina caught the healer’s eye and raised an inquisitorial eyebrow. The healer frowned and nodded censoriously.
“Do as your sister tells you, chicken’s good for you!”
Drustina sniffed at the proffered bowl and tested a spoonful. She was pleased to find it to her liking and resumed eating. The bowl was quickly emptied and she looked up expectantly. Tara gloated as she admonished her younger sister and signalled to Sister Catherine to fetch another bowl.
“See you stubborn bitch, I told you it was nice; now another bowl and then you sleep.”
“I want my lieutenants here, I want reports. There’s stuff to see to.”
“Sleep! Do as you’re told!”
Drustina grumbled but finished her stew. Tara fluffed up the cushion and helped her younger sister to get comfortable. To her satisfaction, Drustina was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. All three carers heaved a sigh of relief; The Lioness was proving a difficult patient.
~o0o~
The following morning Carl returned from the village of Cws with a breakdown of developments. The news was mixed. The village was virtually bereft of adult men for the Vikings had butchered them almost immediately after learning of the arrival of Drustina’s fleet. However a score of men had managed to escape and when they were found, they managed to form a nucleus of stability on which the village could grow. Hengis was still in the village helping to sort out the mess as the remaining villagers started a recovery plan.
Carl had despatched one of their mermaid class ships up to Sotona to report the news. Drustina listened to the reports then started her questions.
“How long have the Vikings been occupying the village?” She asked Carl.
“About two days, they had only just attacked about thirty-six hours before we arrived.”
“Any explanations as to why they attacked.”
Carl frowned.
“It’s my suspicion that they were an advance party for the main force. The plan is for the invasion fleet to arrive sometime soon and use Ynys Wynn as a platform to attack the Saxon country of Wessex. There’s not much evidence for my thoughts but I was remembering what that Viking Princes Iselda said. There must be a Viking invasion fleet around here somewhere. “
Drustina cursed then remembered about Iselda.
“Where is that stupid girl anyway?”
“She’s disappeared. She ran away during the fighting.”
“Damn! That’s my stupid fault. I should have kept her here on the ships. She could be a bloody catastrophe if she manages to find the Viking fleet and warn them about us.”
“I’ve already addressed that. I’ve despatched a couple of the mermaids to circumnavigate the island to see if the fleet is hiding anywhere. Ynys Wynn is an Island, unless the girl steals a boat she can’t get away and the villagers are already searching for her.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction. ‘Carl was no fool. He was doing everything humanely possible to find the girl.’ She cautioned him about finding her.
“I don’t want her harmed, she’s more use to me alive.”
“I know; I’ve made it loud and clear to everybody that she’s a valuable prisoner.”
“Good. I’m sorry but these witches have me in their clutches for a few days so I’m leaving it to you to prepare for any eventualities. I’m expecting some sort of appearance by the Viking fleet within a couple of days at most, and I’m bloody stuck here. Can you stay here down at the spit whilst I go up and warn the Saxon king in Winchester? I’ll take Seripatese and we can ride from Sotona to Winchester. I’m little use for fighting with this bloody shoulder but I can at least ride and talk even if I can’t use my left arm. I can at least use my right arm.”
Carl grinned.
“And a dammed good arm it is Dru! Yes you’re right, the sooner the Saxon’s know, the better and who better to bring the message than the Lioness herself?”
Drustina blushed.
“Get away with you! Go and see to the fleet.”
Carl left with a big grin while Drustina gave instructions from her cot to sail up the Solanta with One of Sister Catherine’s Supply ships carrying Seripatese and the other horses for the dash to Winchester. On arrival in Sotona the news of the Viking occupancy had already preceded her and Drustina had little to add to what Carl had messaged with the earlier boat. Even as the horses were being landed, the local chieftain was preparing to take the news to his king in Winchester. The Saxon ships were also being readied and messengers where being despatched all over Wessex. As Drustina was readying Seripatese, the local chief joined her on the quay.
“I am told you were wounded in the fighting, are you fit to ride to Winchester?”
“Not really, but I need to assess the King’s preparedness.”
“Are you suggesting we are not prepared?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I need to assess what forces he has, what reserves he can call upon, what food stocks he has stored and how well those stocks are hidden.”
“Why would you need this information? We meet the Vikings with greater forces than they have and we beat them.”
Drustina snorted at the man’s simplistic understanding. She decided to test him and determine what sort of general he might be.
“So you meet them with greater forces; where? When? What with? How?”
The chieftain hesitated then shrugged.
“I don’t know; how can anybody know? You ask impossible questions!”
Drustina fell silent. It was no use exposing the man’s inadequacies. He was obviously not general material. She waited for him to become curious and ask of any possible answers to her seemingly unanswerable questions. It was not until she had mounted Seripatese and Tara was riding Capenda that the chieftain began to get an inkling that Drustina had been somehow testing him, sounding him out. As their horses ate up the miles, the chieftain finally decided to quiz Drustina. He pulled up alongside Drustina and asked her to explain.
“Your Majesty, that question of meeting the Vikings. How could anybody know where the Vikings might land?”
“I will explain when we meet the king!” Drustina sighed wearily.
‘How on earth did such a buffoon get to be the commander of such a vital gateway as Sotona?' She asked herself.
With that a silence settled on the cantering riders and it didn’t let up until the walls of Winchester appeared in view. Just outside the city wall, a large stone construction was being built and Drustina recognised it as a Christian church of some description. It mattered little to her and they passed it by with hardly a glance before they approached the town proper.
They quickly arrived at the southern city gates where the chieftain made himself known. The gates opened then they entered the town walls and made their way to the Royal residence, the only stone building within the city walls. As the street cobbles rang under their hooves, many heads turned at the sound then they stared at the two unusual women. One of whom was dressed in a jerkin and britches whilst both women ride astride their horses instead of side-saddle. More surprisingly, the woman with the very long hair also wore a sword.
When they reached the palace they were ushered in with little fanfare for the news of the Viking occupancy of Cws had preceded them by a scant hour. As Drustina strode boldly down the centre of the great hall, she was studying the faces that turned to study her. Nearly all seemed perplexed and critical. An armed woman was an exceptional sight. As they approached the empty throne, the chieftain paused and cautioned the women.
“We’ll have to wait her at the king’s pleasure.”
Drustina stopped, more out of courtesy to the chieftain than deference to the as-yet unseen king. She waited for several minutes while studying the various heraldic badges and symbols on the wall. Eventually a courtier arrived and told them the king would meet them that evening. Drustina cursed loudly enough for every courtier to hear then she added.
“Tell him the Vikings will attack in a matter of days; four or five at most! I can’t wait, I’m returning to my fleet.”
True to her word, she turned on her heel, beckoned to Tara and started back out of the hall. There was a disturbance by the throne and immediately the King’s Chamberlain came running after the pair.
“You cannot just walk out on the king. You are being discourteous!”
Drustina shrugged before replying.
“I have no time to waste, I know the Vikings are somewhere in these waters and I have no intention of being caught with my britches down! Tell the king if he wants to hear my information he can catch me up on the road back to Sotona. Good day sir!”
Drustina held out her good arm and her sister reached over Seripatese’s back to hoist her sister into the saddle for Drustina’s left arm and its sling still troubled her. As she settled into her saddle the chamberlain became agitated then angry as Seripatese and Capenda tossed their manes expectantly.
“I order you to stop right now. You cannot be discourteous to the king; he is deep discussions with the Bishop about our new church!”
Drustina’s eyes almost blazed red with anger.
“I have no time for your damned church or your bishops, Chamberlain. Your king’s first duty is to his people and should be worrying about real enemies like the Vikings knocking on your door! Let your bishops worry about some fantasy world of gods, spirits, and devils. What your king needs now is ships, swords and soldiers not incantations, spells and magic!”
The chamberlain paled at Drustina’s total disrespect for the bishops and their power over access to heaven or the netherworlds. Drustina cast one last contemptuous glance down at the superstitious courtier and urged her mare forward. Before he could utter another word, she and Tara were away.
They spoke little on the return journey for Tara recognised her younger sister’s preoccupation and turmoil it wrought in her warrior’s brain. They let their mares pick their way through the moonlit shadows and both riders were thankful for the full moon.
Finally they arrived back in Sotona just as Dawn was breaking. The guard on the gate stared in shock at seeing the Lioness return so early. He, like the rest of Sotona, had been expecting her to be absent for several days. He expressed his surprise as the gate swung open.
“You must have ridden all night my lady, surely you know the dangers of travelling at night in this kingdom. There are thieves and robbers in abundance. What did the king say?”
Drustina replied angrily.
“I didn’t see the king. He was tied up with some bloody bishops about some church or other. I left a message expressing urgency but I don’t know what to make of it. Does the man not care?”
The guard shrugged somewhat apologetically.
“He is a pious man my-lady. This Christian faith is something new and he has become a devout follower.”
Drustina spat and cursed.
“He’ll be a dead Christian if he doesn’t look to his defences. I’m going to visit the deputy chief of this town, your chief is still poncing about with his pious king.”
She almost spat out the word ‘pious’ and it left the guard in no doubt about Drustina’s opinion of the new faith. He watched the pair as they cantered to the meeting hall in the centre of the town. When they reached the hall Drustina wasted no time rousing the deputy chief and berating him for not having already started to put defensive measures in place.
“Dammit man! Your ships should be armed and ready, not still a ‘laying in their comfy berths.”
“But I’ve received no orders.”
Drustina cursed again. It seemed the whole Saxon kingdom was moribund with indecision. She took a bold step.
“Then I’m bloody ordering you! Get your ships down the Solanta ready to meet whatever threat appears from the sea for that is where
they’ll most likely come.”
“But you have no authority.” The deputy chief protested.
“Speak to the Friesian merchant who came with my ships, ask him what he saw, ask him what happened! You are right, I do not have any formal authority but what I do have is my sword and my ships! You have a right to question my authority but you cannot question my knowledge of the Viking intentions. I’m warning you now. They are coming today, tomorrow, soon! Now; do something man!”
Drustina waited while the man fretted indecisively, then to her relief, a minor chief stepped forward and addressed the deputy chief by name.
“Cedric I think the Lioness is right. If we are caught with our ships ...”
“I know! I know! But if I mobilise the fleet without the king’s authority they will hang me out to dry if we are wrong.”
The minor chief persisted.
“But she’s right! The further out to sea we meet them the further out they are if they choose to land their forces; the further they have to march if they choose to invade on foot. That distance buys us time to muster our army. If we fight them further out on the water we will at least have sea-room and a chance of resisting them. The lioness is right Cedric! Listen to her!”
Drustina felt a grudging respect for the lesser chief. The man showed the insight and wit to recognise the advantages preparedness gave them. She turned to encourage him by discussing tactics even while the deputy chief still prevaricated.
“How many ships can you have ready by noon?”
Once he was dealing with facts and figures, the lesser chief became more confident.
“About ten, by eventide I can have thirty.”
Drustina turned to the Deputy Chief.
“Surely it will not beggar the king’s purse to put ten ships to sea. You could pretend it was simply an exercise. It’s at least a start. I have a score of ships or more already down at the spit. That would make thirty ships when we join forces. Anyway, if your king has half an ounce of wit in that pious skull, I expect some sort of emissary will be coming down the Winchester road even as we speak. He should be here in the afternoon!”
“And what will I tell him? How many Viking ships are there? Do you know?”
“No. I don’t know but they are planning an invasion and they don’t do things by halves. I’m guessing probably fifty ships or possibly a hundred ships. That’s between fifty and a hundred men per ship so that’s anywhere between three thousand and ten thousand armed Vikings. Personally I guess nearer fifty ships, though probably more than fifty men per ship. I’ve encountered large Viking ships with up to a hundred men but they are not so common. In any event I’d make preparations for ten thousand Vikings. I know that’s a huge number but better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.”
The deputy chief’s face paled to nervousness.
“We would take days to muster ten thousand men!”
“Then you had better raise the call to arms right away. I’m off to join my comrades for I have my own axe to grind with these wolves. Good day Cedric. I suggest you have this young chief set sail with his first tens ships by noon! When he meets me down at the Spit, I can discuss tactics. I’m afraid it’s too late to plan strategies. The battle is close at hand.”
She departed for the mermaid and was busy chatting to Sister Catherine about stabling their horses when the lesser chief joined her on the quay.
“Hello again, I’m Althred and Cedric has taken your advice. Can you wait until noon and we can sail together?”
Drustina frowned, there was time yet before the noon but it was time going wasting if she waited for Althred’s ships. Reluctantly she refused to wait and they agreed to rendezvous at the Nab rock to the East of Ynys Wynn. Drustina hoped that the Vikings had not played a double bluff and where intending to land further west. When she got back to Carl she expected him to have newer intelligence. The mermaid skimmed away from the quay and Althred watched enviously.
Within a couple of hours, Drustina was back with familiar ships and faces; it gave her comfort to be with men she knew and could trust. Carl described what checks and patrols he had carried out to try and locate the Viking fleet but they had had little luck.
One incident however, angered Drustina. The villagers of Cws had found Gisela the Viking princess and whilst being held in captivity the girl had been raped. Carl, as the only competent authority, had dealt with the incident with summary justice. The perpetrators had been castrated. Drustina was intrigued by Carl’s action and she smiled as she asked.
“I’m interested in your decision, normally you’d have executed them, explain?”
Carl shrugged.
“The village has seen enough killing; besides, they were young, strong men and the village is short of man-power. Gelded horses are still useful as beasts of burden, those young men will still be useful as drudges. They can work for the village without endangering any more women. I’m taking leaves out of your book Dru.”
She grinned again and ordered the princess to be brought before her. The girl was manacled when she was presented before Drustina for Carl still deemed her a security risk, possibly a worse one now she had been abused. Drustina wasted no time explaining how stupid she had been.
“I told you no harm would have befallen you if you stayed by me. You didn’t, you tried to escape.”
“They raped me!” The girl cursed.
“You chose to reject my protection by escaping. Besides, your countrymen raped many of the village women and murdered many of the men, are you not surprised the villages were angry? They saw it as justice!”
“I was a captive, we do not treat female captives that way!”
For a moment Drustina was speechless with incredulity at the girl’s ignorance about Viking treatment of their prisoners, then she became angry..
“Do not try to tell me about the ethics of your raiders ... your pirates. I have seen their handiwork in a dozen different places. Your people only treat well the prisoners they deem worthy of keeping alive. I have seen plenty of slaughtered old women whom they deem to old or worn to take back as brides or worse, slaves. The only female captives they treat well are those with some perceived worth! You were lucky you were not gang raped and killed. I left clear instructions that if you were captured you were to be treated properly. Those two Saxon apes from the village did not heed my orders so Carl punished them.
“Your lieutenant Carl should have had them executed for what they did.”
“Don’t try and tell me how my lieutenants should behave! He arrived at a perfect solution, I couldn’t have chosen a better one myself.”
“So what of these shackles? Am I to remain tethered like a beast?”
“You ran away like a beast. It seems like a perfect solution for now. You are a security risk and we expect to go to war with your father’s fleet. I cannot afford to have you at large whilst we are in the midst of fighting a battle we have no certainty of winning. You remain manacled and tethered for now.”
Gisela cursed and rattled the manacles.
“You are no better than that brute Carl! I am of royal blood. My father will kill you for this.”
Drustina smiled disarmingly.
“And well he might, if he wins. However, I’m not about to undermine my most trusted and loyal lieutenant just to address your over-inflated royal ego. You remain in shackles!”
The guards took the screaming princess away and Carl turned to Drustina.
“You’re becoming hard Dru. War is changing you.”
Drustina swallowed disconsolately.
“Am I Carl? I wonder why.” She replied ironically.
Carl nodded knowingly; he was about to add that Gisela was only a fourteen-year-old girl but he kept his council and left his beloved leader to her thoughts. He had long ago learned the signs that signalled when Drustina needed peace and solitude.
An hour after the sun had passed its zenith a shout disturbed Drustina from her thoughts and she popped her head out of the bow cuddy where she had been partly dozing and partly thinking of a strategy for the forthcoming encounter. She stepped out from under the cuddy and felt the warm planks beneath her feet. Spring was well and truly arrived and Drustina knew this was the time of year when the Viking’s launched their main campaigns for it gave them the whole summer to consolidate any victories they might have won.
Somewhere, not far away, she knew the Vikings were planning their attack but where and when. All she had to go on was the earlier Viking raid on Cws that served as a harbinger of things to come.
She counted her ships and was pleased to see that Carl had already despatched four of her Mermaid class as patrols to ensure all the entrances into the Solanta were being monitored if not actually guarded. It would have been suicide for the little ships to try and stop a full scale Viking invasion. The rest of the fleet was ready at a moment’s notice so that meant eighteen ships of her own
plus the ten that Althred had brought. With the four out patrolling, this meant she had thirty two ships. Probably less than the full Viking invasion fleet but still a useful force to hamper any landing attempt.
She spent the rest of the afternoon with Althred discussing the details of all the inlets and creeks that emptied into the Solanta. The more she studied the layout, the more she felt it might be better to divide her forces and lay several ambushes as the invasion fleet approached Sotona. Althred considered the plan and nodded thoughtfully.
“We need to lay some bait but it’ll have to be more than just one fat merchant ship. If this is a full invasion, they’ll have bigger fish to fry. The whole of Wessex for instance.”
“Yes I know. However I think I’ve got something that will interest Harald Cold-blood.”
Althred’s eyes squinted with curiosity.
“Oh, what?”
“His daughter, or at least she tells me she’s his daughter.
“Oh, that’s useful, how d’you think we should play it?”
“Don’t know just yet. I think it’s a case of suck it and see. I’m open to any suggestions.”
Althred turned to look at the girl shackled to the mainmast. The girl was sleeping curled up on the spare mainsail with a woollen sheepskin for a blanket.
“Are you going to keep her chained like that?”
“I’ve no other option. She’s plucky enough or daft enough to try and escape — again.”
“Is it worth the bother of keeping her? I hear she’s soiled goods now anyway. She’ll be little use as a bargaining counter.”
Drustina bristled with anger. It seemed wherever she went, women were seen as little more than chattels, objects, property. She put it down to the new religion but made a mental note to enlighten Althred at some later date; if they got through the forthcoming storm. She reminded Althred of who the girl’s father was.
“Just remember who the girl’s father is Althred. If you show her some compassion or respect she might just put in a word for you if you find yourself at Cold-blood’s mercy.”
She saw Althred’s lower lip give an almost imperceptible quiver that betrayed his fear of the forthcoming fight.
‘Good,’ she reflected ‘it’s always good to be afraid when anticipating or even fighting a battle. It made a fellow just that bit less irresponsible and thoughtless of other’s danger.’
The waft of fresh food drifted across the water from Sister Catherine’s supply ship and it told Drustina’s nose that food would soon be delivered in a small boat. She nodded towards the foetal ball under the fleece. The scent of food had awoken Gisela.
“If you want you can feed her. I don’t suppose she’s eaten since this morning.”
Althred grinned but declined the invitation.
“No thanks, she might just bite my arm off. Besides, I’ve still got plenty to sort out on my ships; they’ve been mostly shore sailors until now. Every time there’s been a scare, the raiders have been long gone, before my ships get there. That’s why I pushed to support you about having our ships at sea. Better out and free where they at least stand a chance.”
Drustina nodded, it seemed she would have to feed the tethered wildcat.
~~oo000oo~~
Having warned the Saxon king who proves to be preoccupied with pious endeavours, Drustina decides to get proactive and go searching for the Viking invasion fleet. She eventually gathers some news of the Viking activities but nearly comes to grief because of natural, unexpected perils.
The Angry Mermaid 72.
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 72.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail... Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk... Makurian general.
Fantu... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon ... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar ... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus ... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox. Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred.... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Edburg.... The Angry Mermaid’s cook
Chapter 72.
As the supply boat brought the hot food alongside, Drustina joined the queue on the Mermaid to collect her meal. She collected a second smaller meal for the Viking princess and took both meals to share at the foot of the mast. The girl stared angrily but Drustina could see she had been crying. Drustina actually felt sorry for the girl but she displayed no sympathy save to release one hand from the manacle to enable her to eat properly and not guzzle the food from the bowl like some beast.
“I don’t want it.” The girl protested, ‘stupidly and bravely’ Drustina thought.
“You’d better. You might not see a hot meal or any food at all for a day or more. We have to make a patrol of the sea to establish where your father’s fleet is.”
“I’ll eat my next meal off your body ... when it’s lying with a sword through your heart!”
Drustina shrugged; she had received worse threats.
“Happen you might. Nobody knows the future. But I’d still eat this if I were you. It gets cold at night without cover and you’re not properly dressed for a night in an open warship. Death by exposure is a very cruel passing.”
The girl cursed but her hunger pains overcame her pride and she ate the food while desperately trying to hide her starvation. Drustina grinned then asked.
“D’you want to wee?”
The girl glared again.
“How can I see to my toilet amidst all these brutes?!”
“I do. Get used to it. If you want I’ll chaperone you to the stern. The mermaid is the only one of my warships with a fitting that accommodates my needs. Though my men use it as well and the other ships are beginning to copy the idea. It’s better than weeing shitting with your arse poked over the side. If you want to wee, I’ll take you now. The men won’t look, they’re used to me!”
Gisela finished her food and sighed when Drustina slipped the other manacle.
“Do I have to wear these all the time?”
“When I’m not looking, yes. There’s no knowing what trouble you might cause if I let you loose whilst were fighting. I still can’t trust you, you’re a Viking when all said and done.”
Gisela fell silent but Drustina sensed she was coming to terms with her reality and also beginning to see Drustina as her only protection. Although just fourteen, Gisela had been brutally raped and therefore compelled to develop a hypersensitive, womanly ability to detect puerile male interest. At least Drustina’s authority and femininity served to protect her from any more attacks and abuses. Drustina was the only proper female company Gisela had encountered since being rescued then taken captive from the Godwin sand-banks. She also recognised that the only time she had been abused was when she had not enjoyed Drustina’s protection. Reluctantly and with a grudging acknowledgement she realised Drustina was taking the only course open to her if she was to protect herself and her men when they were actually in the heat of battle. It would have been sheer lunacy to allow the Viking princess freedom to attack from the rear.
Drustina led her to the stern and pulled her cape around the two of them while Gisela relieved herself. Then she instructed her in basic care aboard ship.
“There’s some moss and some vinegar in those two buckets. The vinegar makes you clean and stops worms. Don’t ask me how but the Byzantines showed me and it’s true. Wash your hands and arse with the vinegar after you’ve wiped. Throw the moss into the sea.”
Gisela did as instructed and winced as the vinegar stung the cuts where she had been forcibly raped.
“Ouch! That hurts.”
“They say it’s good for cuts as well. Now, d’you want to wear britches or that gown?”
Gisela studied the stained gown and recognised the stains as cruel reminders of her blameless fall from maidenhood. The anger pierced her resolve and she tearfully accepted Drustina’s offer of a pair of britches. She stepped into them and tested the freedom. She could move her legs every bit as freely as when wearing the gown but more importantly, she was warm. She stood to return to the mast but Drustina restrained her.
“What d’you say?”
“For what?”
“The britches you presumptuous little madam. Your royal status counts for very little with me. I expect a thank you when I do somebody a favour. Those are the only other britches I have aboard this ship. The others are with Sister Catherine. You’ll be thankful for those tonight.”
“Where are we going tonight?”
“Never mind that, the less you know the better. Wherever we go it’ll be cold. There’s no cloud so the night will get cold very quickly. It’s not yet the height of summer. So what do you say?”
Gisela mumbled a reluctant thank-you but it served. Drustina nodded towards the manacles attached to the mast.
“Right. Now back to your mast you cheeky little madam, I can’t risk you being free if we have to fight.”
Gisela glared again but Drustina ignored the girl’s curses. Her duty was to her crew and nobody knew the dangers of having an enemy amongst your own ranks better than Drustina. She gave the order to divide her forces and circumnavigate Ynys Wynn so the whole fleet divided into three groups. Twelve each to patrol the two channels comprising Solanta whilst Carl and Drustina went on further ranging patrols to try and locate the Viking fleet. Drustina searched east towards the white cliffs and narrow channel whilst Carl took his ship west to the giant bone yard beaches of West Essex.
~o0o~
Six days of patient searching whilst stopping every ship they encountered produced little result and Drustina was beginning to get disheartened. Twice she returned to Ynys Wynn to rendezvous with Carl or Althred but they had had no luck either. She cursed as she set out on yet a third patrol.
This time she got desperate and she sailed south right across the channel to a peninsular of land where the Gauls had a harbour called Charburg. As she arrived off the cliffs she stopped and waited until some activity became discernible in a small inlet leading between a cleft in the cliffs. Eventually, two smallish harbour craft emerged and cautiously approached. When they were near enough, one craft stood off whilst the smaller craft approached within hailing distance and spoke to the Mermaid.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Drustina identified herself for there was no obvious evidence that secrecy was required. The two craft where little more than harbour skiffs.
“I am Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin, Lioness of Carthage. I come seeking information.”
“What information?”
“Information about any Vikings being active this year.”
There was a long interval while the smaller craft rejoined its larger sister and the crews held a discussion. Eventually the smaller skiff approached again but this time with somebody of authority who had transferred from the larger harbour craft. The skiff approached warily until Drustina could talk easily with the local chief. He asked suspiciously.
“Why d’you ask about Vikings? Are you in league with them?”
Drustina acknowledged the man’s right to be suspicious and wary. She had experienced Viking violence and it had left her ever wounded. She repeated her identity.
“I am Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin, The Lioness of Carthage have you not heard of me. I am the Celt who laid Blue-face low during the fighting in Dumnoniia. I am the relative of Dryslwyn the high chief of the Bretons to the west.”
The Gaulish Chieftain frowned.
“If you are that Celt then you will have a scar the length of your arse. That Celt received a huge cut on the arse and became known as Drustan Scar-arse. That Celt was but a boy. I have spoken directly with King Dryslwyn and he tells of a boy! You are a woman!”
Drustina swallowed nervously and cursed inwardly. There was nothing for it but to reveal her duality. Quickly, she pulled her britches down and relieved herself by urinating over the side via her maleness thus causing the chieftain’s eyes to pop. Then she tugged down the back of her britches to expose the huge ugly scar that ran from her waist to the top of her thigh. Angrily she challenged the chieftain.
“Does that satisfy your suspicious little mind Gaul!?”
The chieftain was still swallowing in disbelief as his eyes scanned Drustina’s ripe breasts and rounded hips as she hauled her britches up again. Finally his jaw stopped working spasmodically and he acknowledged her identity.
“My God!! What are you?”
“I’m your nemesis if you don’t stop gulping like a bloody fish and give me some news of the damnable Vikings. Have you any news?”
The chieftain finally recovered his composure and advised Drustina that some Viking ships had been reported entering the River Seine and wreaking death and destruction.
“I cannot confirm the full facts but several ships have visited Charburg whilst fleeing to the west and all have spoken of the Vikings occupying the Seine Estuary.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction.
“Thank you chieftain, if you have any food to trade I will pay you in silver or gold. Just have one of your boats bring it out to us.”
“Why do you not come into our harbour, there it will be much easier to victual your ship.”
Drustina was wary of this offer, primarily because she knew the news of her duality would be spreading around Charburg like wild-fire the moment the chieftain returned to his town. The last thing Drustina wanted was for some bloody Christian priest to come blustering down the quay and censuring her for her duality by accusing her of being a monster or an abomination in the eyes of their stupid God. Secondly, she had no intention of being trapped in the little harbour by either Vikings of religious bigots. She repeated her offer to trade gold for food.
She explained her concerns about Viking raiders and declined to risk getting trapped in the harbour. The chieftain nodded his understanding and left to organise a victualing deal with the town’s market-men. Drustina turned to organise the anchor while the Mermaid waited for some stores to be delivered; she felt two eyes boring holes in her back. Sensing the source, she span round to find Gisela staring at her with a combination of fear and incredulity filling her expression.
“What?” Drustina demanded.
“Are you some sort of demon?!” The girl screeched.
“Don’t be bloody stupid girl. I’m a woman, just like you’ll grow to be, one day.”
“You have a cock! I saw it!”
“Oh bugger off child! I have born twins you fool! What know you of motherhood or fatherhood; birth and death; war and peace? You know nothing!”
“You must be some sort of demon! Some sort of monster! That is why men cannot defeat you; you’re some sort of sorceress!”
Drustina started to see red as memories of Bishop Alviar’s bigoted persecution flickered cruelly in her memory. She stood rigid as a statue for several seconds as her rage caused two scarlet spots to grow on her cheeks. She ground her jaws and teeth together with suppressed fury as her grey eyes glinted metallically before the first glint of a tear threatened her struggle to keep her composure. Her hands trembled as she fingered her sword and, for the first time, Gisela realised she might just have overstepped the mark. Her eyes fell on Drustina’s white knuckles as she clenched the sword’s handle and slowly started to draw the deadly blade.
Drustina’s voice came as little more than a hoarse whisper as she stared manically down at the tethered, unarmed prisoner.
“What did you say you little bitch!!!? You just called me a monster!!”
Gisela fell silent as she sensed Drustina’s rising bile. Fear of her approaching death had stolen her voice but eventually, she croaked the next words.
“Sorry Lioness. I shouldn’t have called you those things.”
Drustina continued staring down at the Viking princess like some predator deciding how to kill its meal. Her mind was in turmoil as she struggled to find suitable admonishments.
“What did you just say? You, you of all people, a bloody worshipper of Sappho! Surely I have a right to expect some sort of insight, some sort of understanding by you at least! By the gods, you are but a pervert, a deviant yourself. That makes you a hypocrite. We none of us can alter or be held account for what we are born but we can at least change that which we were wrongly taught. How am I to teach you good from evil or right from wrong when you harbour such prejudice and intolerance?”
She knelt down and leaned in close to fix Gisela with a manic glare but even yet, she hesitated to administer the coup-de-grace. Something even then caused her to pause and she spat out her contempt.
“I would not soil my sword with such filth as you, betrayer, liar, scum! You will remain manacled even through battle and thus know what real fear is you cunt!”
The intensity of Drustina’s anger was a force Gisela had never experienced before. She only recognised it because she had felt its strength and finally identified its source. It was the feeling of betrayal elucidated by Gisela’s bigotry. That bigotry was the key element in Drustina’s life-long sense of always being persecuted, always being pursued; the devil on her tail. Gisela’s bigotry was the external entity that Drustina had eventually recognised and in her fury finally faced ... but the effort had left her weary.
As she stumbled to her feet, she looked down at the teenager with a final contemptuous glance and sighed tearfully.
‘Do all those who know my secret hold the same view as her?’ She asked herself.
She stepped aft tight lipped and wet eyed as she wordlessly dismissed the steersman and sent him to join his comrades having their meal in the forward cuddy. Drustina wanted to be alone.
~o0o~
Solitude however, was something never to be found on a battle ready ship; especially a ship as small and tight as The Angry mermaid. As he finished his chewing his last piece of bread, Hengis glanced aft to study the forlorn, huddled image of his leader. Her food lay untouched beside him for she had not deigned to collect it from the common table in the bow cuddy. Hengis recognised it was getting cold so he took it aft, passing Gisela as went. She looked up expectantly but her expression quickly soured as he passed her and continued aft. Hengis knew not to ask what was troubling his mistress but he held out the food to tempt her.
“You’d best eat this before it gets too cold.”
Drustina looked up with a wan smile.
“D’you see me as a freak Hengis? Am I a monster?”
“No.”
It was a simple one word answer but for Drustina only one word was needed. No elaboration, no effusive praise, no longwinded explanations. Just a simple ‘no’. She stood up and saw with satisfaction that a supply ships was coming out of Charburg. She caught Hengis’ eye and nodded towards the approaching craft.
“Have Edburg make sure we get good rations, no rotten meat and such.”
Hengis turned to return forward then noticed the Viking princess was still manacled to the mast and had not received much food he turned to ask Drustina.
“There’s some food left in the pot, I’ll get her some more.”
“She can starve for all I care.”
“I’ll take that as a yes then.”
Drustina shrugged and turned to look aft while Hengis emptied the cauldron of its dregs and proffered a bowl to Gisela. It was still hot and the girl ate it greedily whilst Hengis looked down at her golden hair. Finally he asked.
“What did you say to so turn her against you?”
“Was she ever for me?” Gisela replied.
“If she wasn’t you’d be long dead and feeding the fishes by now, or tied down on one of the other ships and used as a fleet plaything for everyman’s gratification.”
“They wouldn’t have dared! I’m the daughter of the Viking king!”
Hengis wagged his head despondently, ‘The girl still didn’t seem to get it’.
“You just don’t get it do you Gisela? You say you are the daughter of Harald Cold Blood; the butcher of the north. Do you not know of your father’s reputation for brutality towards his victims? For that reason alone nearly every Saxon, Friesian, Celt, Frank, Gaul, Pict and Scot would hate you and immediately move to rape or kill you. You have no idea how much your father’s armies and ships are hated and feared do you? Only the Danes will truck with your people and that only because you are blood brothers.”
Gisela fell silent, the very mention of the word ‘rape’ sent a sickening wrench through her body and spirit. She curled up into a foetal ball and hugged herself tightly as she willed the nausea to leave her. It didn’t. Hengis shrugged partly through guilt for having terrified her and yet partly with frustration because of Gisela’s immature intransigence. Having exhausted his arguments with Gisela, Hengis turned to speak to Edburg the cook about the approaching supply ship.
Once the Mermaid was victualled, Hengis weighed anchor and set sail Eastwards at slow speed towards the River seine. Drustina was still asleep on the spare sail not more than a couple of yards from the manacled Gisela. She slept because her wound still troubled her.
Hengis let Drustina rest, for only he realised how much her shoulder wound was still paining her. Additionally, Hengis knew what was expected of him. The plan was to arrive at Honfleur just before dawn and hopefully learn important stuff about the Viking fleet if it was still loitering around the Seine Estuary.
A day and a half later Drustina and Hengis found themselves completely lost in a thick morning fog that denied them any knowledge of their exact position except the fact that the water was shallowing and was beginning to taste fresher. The pair were stood in huddle with several of the older comrades as they discussed options when a feint roaring sound interrupted their deliberations.
“What’s that?” Drustina wondered aloud as everybody searched the fog for some sort of explanation.
“Don’t know”, Hengis replied, it sounds like some sort of breaking wave or waterfall.
“But it’s flat calm there shouldn’t be any breakers even if we’re close to the shore.”
As Hengis and Drustina exchanged puzzled looks one of the crew yelled with alarm.
“Look out!! Big waves, dead astern!!”
As one, the whole crew turned to look aft only to see a series of rapidly approaching waves come racing out of the fog.
“By the gods! Look out. Turn about and put our bow to them ¬!” Hengis roared.
“There’s no time for that Hengis we’ll have to take them on the stern. Man as many oars and pull her ahead as fast as we can. Now! No arguments!”
The men flung themselves onto the nearest oars as Drustina leapt to man the tiller. The Mermaid had only just started to make
headway when the first wave came crashing in and threatened to broach her. Drustina screamed at the starboard rowers.
“Pull! Pull for all your worth. Port men back your oars we’ve got to stop her broaching.”
The mermaid’s stern pitched violently upwards and almost dislodged Drustina from her desperate grip on the tiller. A couple of the aftermost rowers were knocked from their thwarts by the incoming rush of the breaking wave as it swept inboard from the port quarter. From all sides men were cursing and coughing as the wave swept over them and flooded into the bilge along the keelson. The Mermaid lurched sickeningly as free surface threatened to swamp her and Gisela gave vent to a terrified gurgling scream. She was drowning before Drustina’s very eyes because she was still manacled to the pulpit at the foot of the mast. Drustina stared in horror for she was now torn between two almost impossible conflicts, release the tiller and rush amidships to unlock Gisela’s manacles or ignore the girl and concentrate on keeping the Mermaid upright.
The latter task had already become a desperate gamble as Hengis and several rowers realised the dangers of the free surface water slopping about under the thwarts.
Drustina turned fearfully as she heard and felt the approach of the next rushing wave, even higher and steeper than the first.
‘What to do!’ She wondered as her mind raced to work a solution.
Whatever happened, she had to keep the mermaid lengthways to the waves. In a virtual blind panic she screamed at Hengis and Edburg the cook to take the two foremost oars and pull for all their lives. It was but a second for the two experienced men to grasp the idea that the most longitudinal leverage could be applied at the bow and they immediately bent to with desperate strength.
Once again, the mermaid’s stern started to rise and yet more water started flooding inboard as the ship rocked and flopped perilously close to a capsize. Drustina simply closed her eyes and hauled as hard as she could on the tiller to try and keep the Mermaid stern on the breaking wave while the men pulled like demented fiends on their oars. Now the water was almost level with the thwarts and Drustina could not see Gisela’s head. The Mermaid lurched again and as the third and largest wave approached she started to broach uncontrollably. There was nothing more Drustina could do. It was in the laps of the gods. In the trough between the second and third waves she fell of the back of the second wave and gave an almighty lurch that sent several men into the water.
To Drustina’s amazement the same violent roll also caused much of the sloshing water to surge over the side as the Mermaid rolled wildly and continued slopping water over alternate sides. She watched disbelievingly as the improved buoyancy caused her to heel almost on her beam ends as men clung on desperately to any fixture they could grab. Drustina just stared stupidly at the wall of water as her beloved ship, now free of the bulk of the free-surface water, somehow managed to bob to the crest of the highest third wave and then plunge recklessly into the back of it. Drustina had no idea what lay behind the third wave and she was stunned to learn that there was little or no trough behind it. It seemed that the sea had risen slab-like in three ferocious steps.
As calm returned to the Mermaid, Drustina had no time to ponder on the cause of such an unusual phenomenon. Her first thought was for the girl manacled to the foot of the mast so she quickly located the submerged girl and released the manacle to allow Gisela to surface from the bilges. A spluttering and coughing Gisela emerged from the bilge-water as she screamed and cursed her captor.
“I almost drowned you bitch! My father will kill you all for this insult!”
Drustina snorted contemptuously as she riposted.
“You’re alive; be thankful. There are some of us in the water as you speak! The manacles made certain you weren’t swept overboard
so be thankful and shut up while we check for survivors.”
Gisela was about to continue haranguing Drustina but a smart rap on her wet arse by the flat of Hengis’ sword quickly encouraged the Viking Princess to be quiet.
A quick roll call revealed that five of Drustina’s companions were overboard and she had to find them. Fortunately, they had not been armed for battle so Drustina knew her men would not have been dragged to the bottom by their armour. As the rushing, roaring
torrent faded away into the mist, the cries of her invisible comrades became audible.
Hengis waved his sword towards the cries thus confirming Drustina’s conclusion and while some men baled the water from the bilge, others set to with the oars. Soon they came upon four of the men and hauled them inboard. Drustina interrogated them.
“Did any of you see where young Wulff got to?”
They all agreed that the young Wulff had probably been carried further away as he had been flung out by the unexpected first wave. Unfortunately, nobody had any idea in which direction Wulff might have drifted.
A morning breeze had now sprung up and the sea was becoming rippled but at least the mist was getting thinner. The wind however was a double edged sword. If Wulff was down-wind they might not be able to hear his calls but if he was upwind as Drustina hoped he was, there was hope of them hearing his cries. Unfortunately Drustina had no way of knowing if the Mermaid had drifted further downwind than Wulff. She hoped that the Mermaid’s greater windage offered a greater profile to the wind than Wulff’s head, and that their ship had drifted further downwind.
Drustina cursed and called for complete silence then she gave an ear-piercing shriek that actually hurt some of the older men’s ears.
Three times Drustina repeated her demented shriek but nobody heard any reply from the mist until after Drustina’s third call, Gisela reacted.
“I heard something, over there I think.”
Drustina stopped and stared suspiciously at the girl.
‘Did the girl have some sort of trick up her sleeve?’ She wondered as she prepared to shout again.
“I’ll scream once more, cover your ears so I don’t disable your hearing, then listen again when I’m silent.”
The girl did as ordered and the second time she nodded vigorously.
“Yes; definitely, over there.”
Drustina was still not convinced; she simply did not trust the young Viking girl.
“Did anybody else hear anything?” Drustina checked with her men.
Blank looks and shrugs met her question; it seemed that Gisela’s young female ears were more sensitive than the men’s older ones.
Drustina studied the girl and looked for any signs of deceit; she could discern none so she reconciled herself to Gisela’s seeming conversion. She set course into the wind using muffled oars and continued calling loudly until sure enough; Vullf’s voice came drifting faintly across the water.
“Over here!” The bow man shouted.
This time several of her crew confirmed it and Drustina sighed with relief and smiled gratefully at the young Viking girl..
“Thanks Gisela, I know you didn’t have to do that, thank you.
Gisela fell silent. She wasn’t about to convey any sort of empathy with her captor but she was secretly glad that Drustina had seen fit to release her after the unexpected event. She rubbed her wrists gratefully to relieve the soreness. Drustina told her to go and see the healer for a salve or unction to treat the chaff marks. Gisela was testing the ointment even as Wulff eventually became visible. The Viking princess stared at the young figure then realised Wulff was trying to shout something. She pleaded for silence then strained to make out Wulff’s words. Gisela waved her hand instructing everybody to be quiet and eventually Wulff could be discerned shouting something about ‘bottom’. Eventually Gisela deciphered his words and cried a warning.
“He’s standing on the bottom!”
“What!”
Drustina almost choked as she squawked out an expletive then she cursed and swung the tiller violently over as the men leapt to attend the ropes. They knew exactly what to do and within seconds the Mermaid was heeling precariously yet again as the manoeuvre tested her still vulnerable stability to its limits. As Mermaid swerved, the free-surface water still lying in the bilges slopped about and threatened yet to capsize the craft. Frantically the balers doubled their efforts as the lee rail threatened to dip below the surface. Then, eventually all way was taken off the mermaid and they cautiously probed for the bottom as the Mermaid approached the half frozen young Wulff. Hengis realised the boy was at the end of his tether so he jumped into the water and towed the boy back to the ship and safety.
Once everybody was accounted for, Drustina set all hands including herself to removing the last remnants of free water from the Mermaid. She was mildly surprised and pleased to see Gisela using her hat as a baling pan.
Once the Mermaid was dry Gisela held out her hat with a rueful expression.
“It’s ruined.”
“Don’t worry girl, I’ll see you get a new hat as soon as we return to Britannia.”
Gisela snorted irritably.
“I’ll need a whole new outfit of clothes as well, these are ruined.”
“I’ll see what can be done. But not now; by the colour of the water and the brackish taste, I’ve a feeling we are approaching the great Seine river and the town of Honfleur. I wish this damned fog would clear.”
Even as Drustina spoke, a soft call came from the bow.
“I think I’ve just seen some land, trees and a low cliff.”
Drustina had every hand turned to listening and looking. Soon the lookout’s observations were confirmed and a wooded headland loomed into view as the fog rolled in and out. Hengis came aft to discuss their actions.
“Are you going to land here?”
“I’ll send three volunteers in the jolly-boat. Ask the men.”
“I’ll go myself if you’re happy with that. I speak Frankish and Gaul as well as Saxon.”
Drustina nodded with Satisfaction; Hengis was an experienced lieutenant who wasn’t likely to take stupid risks. She left it to him to decide which of the volunteers to take and watched they prepared to leave. When she noted four men going she approached Hengis to find out why. He explained he felt it was a better number if they did encounter any unexpected situation. Drustina nodded, it made little difference to the risks and there were still plenty of men to man the Mermaid if they had to make a run or if the fog cleared and they had to leave anyway.
As the jolly-boat pulled away, Drustina decided to eat and as she sat with Wulff, Gisela approached.
“May I eat also?”
Drustina nodded towards the pot that Edburg the cook had started.
“There’ll be a hot stew or something shortly, you’d best be early if you’re to get a decent portion.”
For the rest of the morning, the Mermaids crew spelled each other with cat-naps because the fog had thickened again and there was little chance of them being discovered. As she lay at anchor in total silence, Drustina and her men could hear occasional shouts and other noises coming from the shore but they appeared to be the everyday sounds of a community going about its business.
Drustina even managed to catch some badly needed sleep until she was woken by a gentle shaking of her other, unwounded shoulder.
It was Heliox her second mate. He whispered softly.
“We just heard some oars going past in the fog and there’s a bigger ship approaching - also rowing. I’ve shortened anchor and we can be under way in half a minute.”
Drustina was awake in a flash and signalled silently for the last couple of fathoms of anchor rope to be lifted. Even as the Mermaid fell off from the current, Heliox had set sail and the Mermaid was under way. Drustina warned all her crew.
“Get battle ready, silently. Those are Viking voices and muffle that bloody girl before she realises how close they are.”
Edburg approached the girl and swiftly bound her before stuffing a gag in her mouth and binding her head, then he manacled her to the mast despite her tigerish protests.
The shouts through the fog served to inform Drustina that the Vikings were pursuing something, and it was almost certainly the smaller ship that had passed earlier. She decided to follow the sounds silently by using sail only and thus stay within earshot of the rhythmical splash of the Viking oars.
As they followed the splashing suddenly fell silent and immediately there were Viking roars of victory followed by shouts and them screams as some sort of conflict was engaged.
“All sail boys and look to your swords. I’ve no idea what lies ahead.” Drustina whispered but the men were already preparing for battle and they knew their stuff.
In the bow ten men had already lit fire arrows from Edburg’s cooking stove and they stood poised to strike the moment they could see their target. They did not have to wait long; such was the mermaid’s speed, she appeared out of the fog like some demon of destruction. The Vikings were preoccupied with capturing g the smaller craft and failed to see the mermaid until she was upon them.
Her tough oak stem crunched into the Viking ship’s side and splintered the side planking before the Vikings realised they were being attacked. The violent collision knocked several Vikings off their balance and Drustina’s crew were amongst them immediately after the second salvo of fire arrows had wrought its destruction. The battle was over almost before it had begun. The Viking ship only had a crew of some thirty men and nineteen of them had been disabled by the first two salvoes of fire arrows. The brief fight that followed was short and very violent but Drustina’s crew had the element of surprise and preparation. Within two minutes of first contact the Vikings were all dead or dying.
Within three minutes, the Gaulish survivors from the smaller ship were supplicating themselves before their saviours and it was some time before Drustina could placate them. Indeed at one stage she almost lost her temper as they persisted in thanking her and her crew whilst ignoring Drustina’s desperate attempts to garner any intelligence. Eventually she managed to calm them down and after explaining who she was and who her crew were; she managed to get some sense out of them.
The Gauls had been fleeing the Viking blockade and had used the fog to make their escape. It had almost worked but the treacherous veil of mist had lifted momentarily just as they were passing the picket line and they had been spotted. The Viking picket ship had given chase and the rest Drustina knew. She nodded knowingly and then started to ask further questions about conditions on the river and in the town. As the Gauls described the situation, Drustina had Heliox bring Gisela close enough to listen so she could learn of Viking brutality at second hand. Both men carried old wounds and new bruises from the constant Viking brutality and most of the women told of the inevitable rapes. Finally, Drustina had heard enough and she decided to return to collect Hengis and his shore party. When she intimated this to the fleeing Gauls they were astonished.
“What!!! You have men ashore?”
“A scouting party, that is all. This fog is holding and we should get them back before dark. Do any of you know the river well?”
One of the men declared he was a port warden for Honfleur and Drustina’s eyes lit up with delight.
“By the gods! I couldn’t have found a better guide. What is the name of the headland with the trees and the crumbled cliff?”
The warden shrank back nervously declaring he did not want to return but Drustina brooked no argument..
“You’re coming back with us whether you like it or not. I need your knowledge of the river and that wild wave that nearly sunk us.”
The warden’s eyes widened questioningly.
“The Mascaret? You sailed the Mascaret!!”
“It nearly sunk us, but yes, we met with the monster and eventually tamed it. What is it?”
The warden’s eyes widened as he started to explain.
“You understand Lioness how the sea and the moon ...”
“Yes, the tides, of course I understand that; get on with it man!”
“Well the Mascaret is a creature of the moon and the tides. The trouble is, it is not a reliable creature; it only comes during the spring tides but not every high tide. There is no knowing when it is going to be a big wave but it’s usually when the winds are powerful and the trouble is ...”
Drustina nodded as she acknowledged and finished the sentence.
“The trouble is, the winds are not predictable.”
The warden nodded with satisfaction as he realised the Lioness was a seafarer who knew all about the tides. Once he had convinced himself that the young woman who stood before him was a competent mariner he was much more forthcoming and agreeable. After explaining that the Mascaret became even worse further up the river he agreed to accompany Drustina for one voyage only to recover her four crew.
“The wave is not due for another six hours, we could be in and out before the Vikings realise their comrades have not returned.”
“But what of this fog? How will you know where we are?” The warden wondered.
“We won’t. I’m trusting to you to help us in that area. I’m hoping we are not too far from where we put my men ashore.”
The warden shrugged. From his viewpoint the Mermaid and her crew were working totally blind. Drustina admired his phlegmatism and they made arrangements to rendezvous with the escapees at daybreak. The plan was for the Gaulish ship to sail outwards from the estuary until she reached open water and clear visibility. There she would wait until the Mermaid re-appeared from the fog. If the Mermaid didn’t appear by morning, they were to make their way to somewhere safe; preferably further west towards Charburg or north-west to Ynys Wynn.
“What of the captured Viking ship?” Asked the escapees.
“Remove all the valuable weapons, damage it some more then let it drift. It will look as though they met with disaster from the Mascaret.”
“But it is a valuable ship!” The Gauls protested.
“Who have we to man it?” Drustina countered. “ I have neither the time nor the man-power to make use of her. Besides, she needs repair, that damage to her side will not withstand a heavy sea.“
The Gauls seemed loath to let the ship go but Drustina’s arguments were sound. The damaged Viking ship was more a liability than an asset.
With arrangements settled, the Angry Mermaid made her way south and east towards Honfleur. As they probed cautiously the port warden marvelled at the total silence of the crew. He was even reduced to whispering himself as Drustina stood with him in the bow while the leadsman sounded monotonously. As they inspected the nature of the bottom samples the Warden was surprised with the tactic and its simplicity. When they reached an area of soft black mud the warden surprised himself by being able to identify its location.
“This is where the ships anchor because the bottom provides good holding ground. We are about a mile west of the entrance to Honfleur. The headland you described is about three miles further east but we must cross the picket line of Viking ships.”
Drustina paused thoughtfully then asked.
“When is the next Mascaret due?”
“This evening, before nightfall.”
“And I’m thinking the Vikings will be preoccupied with the wave.”
The warden frowned.
“Well, yes they will; but all ships will be taking refuge. Nobody willingly confronts the wave.”
“Describe it to me; as it passes Honfleur, the sand-banks and suchlike.”
The warden’s eyes widened with fear.
“What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The warden stood silent as his mind worked feverishly.
“Surely you don’t intend to confront it, willingly?”
Drustina sucked thoughtfully.
“No. I intend to run with it. My ship has met with far worse waves than the Mascaret. Huge Atlantic rollers with breaks higher on their tops than the whole of your Mascaret.”
The warden smirked disbelievingly; he had never travelled further than the outer reaches of the gulf of Normandy, so he had no experience of open ocean sailing. Unable to comment constructively, he returned to the topic he understood and reiterated the dangers associated with the wave.
“But this wave moves so quickly and it’s unpredictable.”
“Are you not forgetting warden, we have met once already with this wave and unprepared at that. I think we can do as I intend and it will take us past the picket line while they are safely tucked up in the harbours.”
The warden shrugged again and Drustina smiled, it was a postural language that she was growing to like. A sort of philosophical resignation that symbolised a seemingly fatalistic acceptance of life no matter what hardships that life brought. He remarked one last time.
“Well, your crew seem confident about the wave so who am I to differ. This is as strange a ship as I’ve ever encountered so I’ll take your word.”
Drustina smiled and nodded to Helios.
“We’ll anchor here in the fog until the time for the wave. Have the oars and sails ready for the time the Warden estimates the wave will arrive. This anchorage is fairly deep so the wave will probably not break much. The danger is on the shallower sand bars.”
The warden nodded agreement; the two of them had same knowledge of bottom effects on waves and the subsequent breaking surf. Drustina turned to the warden and shrugged as Helios set the time candle.
“We might as well get a couple of hours sleep, the gods alone know when we’ll see some again. “
~~oo000oo~~
Sorry about the delay with Chapter 73.
In this Chapter, Drustina has gone searching to find the location of the threatening Viking invasion fleet. She knows the invasion is imminent but where and when and how many ships are vital facts that escape her.
Chapter 73
Drustina was roused from a deep slumber by light fingers tracing a sensuous line over her bust. She cocked one eye half open so as not to betray her alertness then when the fingers returned again she snatched out and grabbed the offending hand by the wrist while her other hand appeared as if by magic with her trusty dagger poised at the offender’s gut. The frightened squeak told Drustina that the slender wrist belonged to a female and the only other female aboard was Gisela, the Viking princess.
“What d’you think you’re doing girl?” Drustina hissed. “That sort of uninvited intimacy could have caused your immediate death!”
Gisela tried to rear back but found her wrist still trapped in a vicelike and somewhat unfeminine grip.
“Ow! You’re hurting!”
“You’d have been hurting a damned sight more if this had travelled all the way.”
She gently prodded the tip of her dagger into Gisela’s tummy just to remind the girl how vulnerable she still was.
“Don’t ever approach any woman like that unless she’s given you clear licence to do so.”
“But I; I was just, I was just ... sort of testing.” Gisela swallowed.
“Testing for what?”
“I was just wondering ...”
By now both Hengis and Heliox were watching the interplay as knowing smiles played upon their lips. They had watched the whole development and checked to see that Gisela had not concealed a knife as she was instructed to wake the lioness. Drustina sensed them watching but paid them no heed as she addressed the young princess again.
“Wondering what?” Drustina demanded.
“Well, I, I ... please don’t be angry.”
“At the moment girl I’m not angry, I’m simply restrained; this dagger still sits in my hand ready to do its work. An explanation please; you can ignore them.” (She glanced sideways at Hengis and Heliox.) “It’s me you answer to.”
Gisela swallowed fearfully. As a fourteen-year-old Sapphic, she was still desperately trying to find her way and Drustina’s unusual gender duality had aroused her curiosity. She had not yet acquired the social skills to approach the questions maturely and her clumsy invasion of Drustina’s personal privacy had reflected her immaturity. She tried to speak but only a hoarse fearful squeak escaped her throat. Drustina bit her bottom lip thoughtfully them relaxed her grip slightly.
“Go on girl, I’ll not condemn you for being what you are so give me your explanation.”
Eventually Gisela found her voice again but she still croaked hoarsely and she dropped her mesmerized gaze.
“I ... I thought you might understand. I thought you would ...”
Here Gisela lost her voice again as she glanced around to realise that Hengis and Heliox were watching her every discomfort. She tried to lower her voice to a whisper but her fear took it again and she failed to make herself heard. Drustina hissed angrily.
“You thought I would what; ... understand? Understand your nature?”
Gisela nodded slowly then lifted her eyes again to glance fleetingly and beseechingly for some slight display of forgiveness. She stuttered again as she struggled to find the right words.
“I thought you might ... you might want to show me ... you know; how I should ... I should.”
Here again she froze with fear for now she realised she had crossed some sort of line. Drustina was now more intrigued than annoyed so she pressed Gisela again.
“Go on girl. I’ve seen stuff and done stuff far beyond your understanding; I doubt that you’ll shock me or offend me. Go on.”
“I thought you could show me how to lie with another ... a woman, another woman.”
Drustina sat up and slowly wagged her head before responding in a softer, lower voice.
“Listen Gisela, you’re still young; too young to be experimenting with other people’s bodies. If you want to experiment, do it with your own body then that’s up to you but I warn you, if you ever try making advances to others you could land yourself in terrifying circumstances.”
“But my older sisters were married at fourteen and fifteen.”
“That’s a slightly different situation, being married as husband and wife; man and woman. That type of union is a contract. Both sides have obligations and responsibilities that the whole tribe recognise and will sometimes enforce. It also forces the man to recognise his children and provide for them as well as protect his wife. If the marriage is to work, both sides should remain loyal to each other for life.”
“But I don’t want that sort of marriage. You know what I am.”
“Indeed I do ... now, and that’s what makes you even more vulnerable. There are many who will try to take advantage of your isolation.”
“I’m not isolated, my father will punish those who have abused me.”
“Your father’s writ does not run except where he has conquered and he has not conquered all of Britannia yet. Don’t forget, you are my prisoner and he has not conquered me. As a young Sapphic, you are possibly one of the most vulnerable classes of women. Firstly, you must somehow find a like minded soul then you must keep your partnership a secret. If others find out then you could end up being accused of witch-craft or some other such ridiculous charge.”
Drustina hesitated as she re-considered her words.
“Well ... it’s not that ridiculous is it? In fact it’s lot worse, it could be fatal!”
Gisela sobbed then cursed.
“Dammit! I already know that, my father told me bluntly I could not return to the bosom of my family unless I renounced my calling and married as he directed.”
Drustina frowned thoughtfully.
“What! You mean he’s given you a choice ... an option?”
Gisela glared at the sky as though seeking some sort of superhuman help or guidance.
“It’s not much of an option is it? Die in battle, kill myself, deny myself or submit to the imprisonment of my very spirit by some revolting jarl. It’s that or go into banishment for the rest of my life.”
“It’s still an option. He obviously cares for you in some way because did not want to have you executed which is what would have happened if those Christian priests had any sway in your father’s realm.”
Gisela looked directly at Drustina as her complexion paled with dread.
“Is that what they do?”
“What; the Christians? Yes. They preach some shit about ‘Thou shalt not kill’ then the first thing they do is start burning people as witches; women usually ... or stoning them to death on jumped up adultery charges. As a Sapphic you would walk in fear every day.”
Then Drustina had a thought.
“Just a minute; are you really banished from your father’s realm?”
“Yes ... unless I find a husband.”
“Dream on kid, Sapphics don’t find happiness in sharing a bed with a man.”
Gisela stared tearfully across the water as she contemplated her life’s options then turned to Drustina.
“What am I to do then?”
“Don’t tell anybody about your sapphism, don’t make things obvious.”
Gisela pursed her lips with discontent.
“You make no secret of your circumstances. Nearly all your old friends and comrades know about your ... your ... you know.”
Drustina chuckled.
“Ha, see! You have not even got a word for me. It’s called duality, or at least that’s what I call it. And yes; most of them do know about my duality; but they also know I can defend myself and, more importantly, they know I’m good for support in a fight. I’ll stand where any of my men will stand and face the foe. The old campaigners will reassure the new men that I would die fighting before letting my comrades down.”
“Huh, you call them comrades but you are really their leader. So I suppose none of them would dare condemn you for what you are.”
“Listen child! Nearly all the old campaigners who have been with me since the beginning know not to judge others for we have all walked our individual walks. When we stand side by side in battle, I am their comrade. We fight for each other because we die for each other. In fact young lady I am at more risk than my men because every foe wants to claim my head. My comrades know this and thus count it an honour to stand beside me. Furthermore, any traitor would find it an easy task to stab me in the back during a battle; and who would know?
No Gisela, my men respect and love me because of where I have led them. Every man has the right to leave our band if and when his time is right, for example, arriving home, or finding a mate, or finding some good rich land; or a position in a township, like a blacksmith or a mason or a wheelwright or whatever. We all have hopes and ambitions. You know my ambition and that’s to recover my homeland. “
“And become a queen.” Gisela offered, thinking that flattery might serve.
Drustina shrugged.
“Some will tell you I’m a queen already but if I am, I’m a queen without queendom. It would be nice to recover my homeland; I have no designs on anybody else’s lands.”
“Hmm, the Queen of Lleyn, that has a nice rhyme to it.” Gisela chuckled.
(******* See author’s note.)
Drustina’s face darkened but she did not get angry; her softened voice conveyed more warning than rage.
“There’s no poetry to war young lady, just blood and death, and fear and tears. Now go and get some food, if we meet with your countrymen, we may not eat for some time.”
“If we meet with my countrymen, I’ll be rescued.”
“If we meet with your countrymen, you are just as likely to meet death at their hands as any of us. Men don’t have time to check every foe before running them through in the thick of battle. Go and get some food, I am going to wee.”
Gisela went forward to the bow cuddy where some hot stew was being ladled out to all the crew. She collected two bowls and some black bread then returned aft to find Drustina nonchalantly sitting on the open thunder-box with her britches down whilst discussing developments with Hengis.
Her expression of disbelief brought a smile to Drustina’s lips.
“I’m only weeing girl. Put the food over there while I finish here.”
Gisela set the bowls down then ate her own as Drustina washed up and dipped her hands in the pot of vinegar that nestled in a rack beside the seat.
“Why d’you do that?”
Drustina shrugged.
“It’s an old Roman trick. Stops worms or something; dunno’ how or why.”
Having cleaned up, she ate her stew and turned to watch the river. The Honfleur harbour-master joined her and they strained their ears until they turned and nodded. Then Gisela heard the distant hissing and splashing as the sound increased to a roar. The next Mascaret was approaching. Everything had already been lashed down, anything that might betray their identity had been stored away and on Drustina’s signal, every warrior manned and oar.
At the stern and bow the extreme oars were double manned as the leadsman did a final check. The Mermaid was in deep water, the safest place to be.
Soon the approaching wave emerged from the fog as a series of increasing peaks and the crew needed no urging. They bent to the oars and started pulling hard as Drustina, Hengis and Heliox fought with both rudder and additional steering oar. The mermaid’s stern suddenly rose up on the first wave and in less than a second the craft had accelerated forward and started to surge down the front of the first wave. Soon the Mermaid was surfing the Mascaret and advancing at the speed of a galloping horse. The Harbour-master gazed with satisfaction as he recognised landmarks slipping by in the mist until he finally called to Drustina.
“We are past the headland and out of sight of Honfleur.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction and ordered the men to hold on their oars.
“We need to slow down and let the wave slide under us whilst not broaching side on.”
Now the doubled bow and stern oars came into their own as the Mermaid resisted the forward rush of the wave without turning beam on and capsizing. Muscles bulged and voices cursed for several seconds until the last peak passed and the mermaid found herself in calmer water again. As she called for everybody to rest on their oars, a collective wave of relief sighed around the vessel. So far; so good.
“D’you think anybody noticed us?” Heliox wondered aloud.
The harbourmaster snorted then replied.
“Of course people saw us. Everybody watches the Mascaret as it passes, if only to be sure no harm has come to their boats or piers.”
“But, I’m thinking they won’t have recognised us, or realised what we are because of this fog. We would have been little more than a grey shape in this fog.” Drustina offered.
The Harbour-master nodded.
“They will certainly see you for a strange ship and that will set them on their mettle but they won’t have recognised you. I don’t know how far they will investigate, all I know now is that we must hide up for the night in a small creek that I know of that bends back against the river and provides protection from the worst excesses of the wave. Come I will take you there; it’s not far from where you landed your men.”
The men needed no urging to make landfall before the night and soon Drustina found her ship cleverly secreted in a small ‘L’ shaped creek with dense trees and high banks surrounding her. The entrance to the creek was screened by the trees and access from the land was all but impossible because of the surrounding cliff. Drustina recognised a good ‘hideout’ when she saw one but it was also a trap if they were discovered. There was only one way in and out.
They posted lookouts amidst the trees on the bank while the rest of Drustina’s band prepared for the night. The noises from the river were screened out and the rest of the men quickly adapted to the prospect of a quiet restful night sleeping aboard the Mermaid under a waterproof, green and brown awning.
During the dawn they heard the early morning Mascaret go thundering up the river but inside the creek there was little but a brief surge of water that was easily countered by the moorings and the men standing by the oars. As the Mermaid settled back into her comfortable bower, Hengis approached Drustina as she performed her toilet.
“This interminable fog is still here, is there no respite?”
Drustina smiled as she wiped herself.
“Don’t knock it Hengis, the longer the fog endures, the less likelihood of our being discovered.
“Aye, but how will our comrades find us when they try to rendezvous?”
“We post a couple of the men near the beach where we’ve agreed to meet. It’ll be tomorrow night then every night thereafter, possibly for a week.”
“I still don’t like it. We could easily miss them in the dark, during the fog.”
“It’s the luck of the draw Hengis,” Drustina replied, “None of us could have foreseen this. I have no more idea than you how long this fog will last but the Honfleur harbourmaster says at this time of year it can go on for a week without a break.”
“Bloody fog. It’s the devil’s work and no mistake. Are you ready to eat?”
Drustina finished rinsing her hands in the vinegar bowl and nodded hungrily. They joined the queue for food and Drustina noted with satisfaction that the little cooking fire gave off virtually no smoke and the fog would serve to provide sufficient cover. As she settled beside Hengis and Heliox, Gisela approached them with her feet shackled to prevent her trying to escape. She rattled the short chain angrily with her foot.
“There’s no need for this!”
“There’s every need for that. You would escape otherwise.”
“If I promise not to escape, will you unshackle me?”
“No.” Drustina replied bluntly. “There’s too much at stake. Eat your food and be quiet.”
Gisela retired to her cwtch (**)See author's note. amidst the stowed, spare sail under the awning. There was little to occupy her and she was bored. Thus the mermaid’s wait continued in virtual silence until the third night when two of the original party returned to the rendezvous. Immediately they were taken to the Mermaid’s hidden creek and debriefed. They explained the situation...
“The Vikings have occupied the centre of the town Milady and they have taken control of most of the town’s functions. They arrived in huge numbers and overwhelmed the town with hardly a fight. The Gauls were unprepared and the Vikings had an easy time of it. Consequently very little blood was spilt and there were very few reprisals. Then the main force left for the Havre across the river and left only a small garrison here. The Vikings who remain seem to think they have landed in clover.”
Drustina nodded slowly then asked.
“What of the other four?”
“They go abroad in the town masquerading as Gauls and the Vikings are completely fooled.”
“So why did you separate?”
“Many of the town’s people have had their boats confiscated to prevent them escaping. They are fishermen or river traders and they cannot pursue their livelihoods. There is much anger in the town and we were wondering if we could exploit that anger.”
“How?!” Asked Helios as he and Drustina shared the wooden log that served as the council seat.
The two comrades grinned.
“There is only one picket boat in Honfleur. The main Viking force is across the estuary in The Havre. If we destroy the picket boat, the townspeople can escape and flee to Britannia.
“How will they escape the river-mouth patrols?”
“They are local fishermen, they can safely sail the estuary and escape to the open sea even in the dark.”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully.
“So what of the rest, those who have to stay behind?”
“The townspeople estimate that they have enough boats impounded by the Vikings to carry about two thirds of the population. The others can escape overland towards Charburg. So far the Viking’s haven’t got as far west as Charburg because they are preparing to attack Britannia.”
“How do they intend to overpower the Viking garrison?”
“Our four comrades are quietly organising the people and they sent us back to inform you Lioness. With The Mermaid we should be able to capture the Viking picket ship in Honfleur harbour if we can take them by surprise.”
Drustina glanced sagaciously at Hengis who nodded thoughtfully then remarked.
“It could be done provided we know the numbers Dru. D’you want me to go back with them into Honfleur and make a proper assessment?”
Drustina nodded then decided it would be better if both she and Hengis reconnoitred the situation along with the Harbourmaster. His presence would help to convince the townspeople that there was hope and his knowledge of town and harbour would be invaluable. The only problem was making sure the Harbourmaster was not recognised by the occupying Vikings. Fortunately, the harbourmaster’s beard had grown substantially since escaping from the town and it was a simple trick to stain his grey hair and beard black with a mixture of ash and woad berries.
The following morning found the trio of Drustina, Hengis and the Harbourmaster sneaking into the town by a little known path through the reeds that finished amongst some derelict sheds that backed onto the marsh. The group emerged from between some trading houses on the busy street from the harbour to the town. Nobody showed any interest in a pair of men and a woman strolling between the stalls and stores that lined the street. All three visitors sensed the sullen depressed mood of the town and no townsfolk reacted to their presence for they had disguised themselves well as local farmers from out of town. Eventually the harbourmaster led them to an inn where he suggested they stop to eat.
“The food used to be good in here before the Vikings came,” he whispered, “but God knows what the situation is like now. I know the publican well. We can trust him.”
“All we want is information,” Drustina repeated, "most importantly the number of Vikings and their movements and habits."
Even as they took their seats a group of Vikings swaggered in and intimated that they wanted the window seats that the trio had taken. Carl was all for confronting them but Drustina quickly interceded and motioned to Carl to vacate the favoured seats and move to the back of the inn. As they resettled in the shadows, Drustina lightly scolded Carl whilst suppressing a smile.
“You silly bugger, we don’t want a fight just yet. Let’s just sit and listen. They’re a loudmouthed bunch of braggarts, we’ll learn a lot more just sitting and listening quietly.”
Her words were then confirmed as the Vikings became progressively more loose tongued as the beer began to talk. The most vital piece of information being that they had presumed that the Viking ship that Drustina had destroyed had been capsized by the Mascaret. This told Drustina that the Vikings still had no idea there was an enemy in their very midst.
‘The element of surprise was complete!’ She concluded as a visceral thrill of satisfaction rippled through her bones.
Carl had also realised this and the pair exchanged knowing secretive glances. The harbourmaster picked up on the faintest nuance as he returned with their beers and he immediately wanted to know as he sat down. Drustina explained and he nodded as he added his own useful news.
“The publican says there are about fifty holding the town. They favour this inn and an eating house on the quay.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction and they continued drinking their beer quietly whilst watching the Viking group that had grown by other three or four men. By listening quietly they determined that the Vikings had organised themselves into three shifts to patrol the town whilst they had taken over a large warehouse and dwelling at the entrance to the quay. They used this as their main base whilst generally acting abusively towards the townspeople as they patrolled the streets and took what they fancied for their own pleasure. No woman was safe and nearly all the women had been assaulted whilst some had been raped — usually the prettier ones. The town was traumatised. Eventually the trio departed the inn and Drustina noticed the Viking gang eyeing her covetously. Instead of the normal fearful response however, she walked boldly past them and out into the street. To her surprise, they did not follow her and the three decided to go walking about the town in the hope of encountering the other members of her crew who were still going amongst the town people.
After crossing the square several times they eventually came upon two of them sat at the back of an eating house talking earnestly with some townsmen. Having been assured by her crewmen that the group was to be trusted, Drustina quickly made the townsmen aware that help was now at hand. Eventually they recognised their harbourmaster as he revealed his identity; then they were quietly jubilant as Drustina declared herself as ‘The Lioness of Carthage’.
“I have heard of that name,” declared one of the men. “She was in Dane-mark last year.”
“Well she is amongst you now and prepared to help you.”
“How?”
“Destroy the butchers who occupy your town.”
“What good will that do? It will only antagonise the main force across the estuary in the Havre.”
“By the time they learn that their cronies are dead, we’ll all be long gone. How many are left in the town?”
“There are about three hundred; mostly old men, women and children. They make it a sport to kill any able bodied man who stands up for himself. Most of the men are forced to hide in the woods or leave. What is worse, they took all our weapons when they surprised us.”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully as she was deciding how to defeat the Vikings in one swift blow. As she mulled over different ideas she demanded one thing from the townsmen.
“I want to know exactly how many Vikings there are, when we have finished, they must all be accounted for. Nobody must be allowed to escape and raise the alarm across the river.”
A rustle of nervous anticipation rippled through the group as another townsman asked.
“What have you planned?”
Drustina was not prepared to reveal any plans too early. Even if the men were totally loyal, a slip of the tongue could easily invite disaster. Surprise had to be total so she pretended she hadn’t formulated a plan.
“I have nothing planned yet. I’m just gathering information. Does anybody have any ideas or facts or anything that could serve as a weapon?”
A pretty teenage girl, who looked grey with fatigue, nervously raised her hand. Drustina recognised the face of a multiple rape victim, the empty eyes, the dirty hair, the shabby clothes, the determined attempt to make herself as unattractive as possible. Drustina spoke softly.
“Yes darling, what have you to tell?”
The girl cast nervously around as though fearing some sort of censure from the townsfolk gathered in the eating house. Drustina’s razor sharp senses quickly discerned that the girl was not highly regarded, ‘Possibly she had been a bit flighty and attracted the Viking’s attention; though she did not have the look of a whore about her.’ Drustina decided to reassure the girl.
“Go on child, if you know something that could be of use, I would gladly listen.”
After some hesitation she spoke haltingly.
“I am Symone, my father and older were killed by the Vikings and my mother has gone into hiding. They took me before I could escape because their attack was so sudden. I know how they sleep, their dispositions and which parts of the warehouse they favour. It is a big place with many alleyways and storerooms; you would be foolish to blunder in blindly.”
“Make a drawing girl, and if you are willing, you can show us the best way to approach.”
As the girl eagerly took a charcoal and drew the plan of the warehouse, Drustina looked up again.
“Does anybody have any further information?”
Initially, nobody responded so Drustina concentrated on the drawing. Then one of the townsfolk came forward and corrected parts of the drawing whilst explaining he had worked there before the Vikings turfed everybody out. Drustina was beginning to form a plan and she invited Symone to return with her back to their hideout. The girl was keen to escape the c censorious feelings of the townspeople and nodded vigorously. The constant reminders of seeing Vikings in the town had traumatised her almost to the point of paralysis and nervous exhaustion. Drustina had seen other such situations and she was sympathetic to the girl’s plight. Symone sensed this and was therefore keen to escape the town.
As they prepared to leave, Drustina whispered in the girl’s ear.
“Be prepared to leave when we signal you. I will remove my shawl and re-arrange it or fuss with it until I get a response from you.”
Already the girl seemed to stand taller as she realised the visitors were fashioning some sort of plan. She sat quietly while Drustina finalised the plan with the town’s people. Within an hour, Drustina and her followers were back at the boat. The harbourmaster had remained in the town to check that no leaks or traitors could wreck their plans. All the Mermaid’s crew-men soon got the gist of Drustina’s plan and the decision was made to return to the town at the break of dawn. Drustina’s extra force would easily tip the balance in the townsfolk’s favour.
Before the first light of dawn, over a score of figures emerged from the marshes and sneaked towards the warehouse until all of Drustina’s band were assembled at strategic locations. Drustina smiled at the incongruous adornment of yellow narcissus that each warrior wore for identification. Next, a bedraggled Symone appeared by prearrangement and approached the guard who manned the warehouse doors. Drustina was impressed by Symone’s appearance as she acted out her role as a rape victim. Hengis turned and whispered to Drustina.
“She plays her part bloody well Dru.”
Drustina spat angrily; not anger at Hengis but anger that such a young and pretty girl should ever have endured such trauma that she was able to portray the roll with devastating accuracy.
“Aye! “, croaked Drustina as rage and revulsion cracked her voice, “the poor bitch has had enough bloody experience. They’ll pay for it though, mark my words, they’ll pay.”
And Hengis knew they would.
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
(**) Authors note. A ‘cwtch’ is a Welsh word for a comfortable little niche where a body can curl up snugly and go to sleep
(*****) Author’s note. Lleyn is a Welsh peninsular in North Wales, UK
Lleyn is a Welsh place-name pronounced like ‘Lean’, as in lean meat.
The double Ll cannot be reproduced in English. The sound is produced by pushing the tip of the tongue against the roof of the mouth just behind the front teeth then expressing the air around the sides of the tongue.
In this chapter, Drustina organises the rescue of the towns-folk of Honfleur by routing the Viking Garrison. Her shoulder is injured during the conflict and she is 'hors-de-combat' briefly while Hengis takes command. The young rape victim Symone proves to be a determined and committed asset for subterfuge and spy-work.
The Angry Mermaid 74.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 74.
Chapter 74
Symone walked slowly with legs slightly parted so as to give her an awkward gait that suggested harm to her private parts. Drustina watched and felt a tightening in her gut as she realised Symone’s display was no fantasy display but a genuine walk born of brutal experience. She watched as the girl approached the guard who leered knowingly. Drustina couldn’t hear the words but she admired the way Symone moved around the guard and thus caused him to turn and face the door as she made a move to display her injuries while protesting her treatment. The guard bent down expectantly and Drustina seized her chance. She slipped out from behind the corner of the building across the road and ran barefoot across the cobbled road. The guard never heard or saw her coming and Drustina’s trusty knife was buried in his back ribs before he realised what was taking place.
For a moment he was too shocked to realise what had happened. The force of Drustina’s strike had felt more like a blow than a stab and she had already wrenched her knife out of his lower ribs before he recovered from the shock. He went to shout but found his wind had gone and he could not draw his breath to call the alarm. Drustina’s dagger was already entering his chest for a second time as he turned to retaliate. The second pain in his chest was infinitely more intense than the first because Drustina had struck his heart. The intensity of the searing pain virtually paralysed him and it hurt too much to raise his arm and draw his sword. He tried to shout but his voice degenerated into a desperate gargle as the blood bubbled up through his chords.
Despite this being his dying breath, he managed to get a hold of Drustina’s throat and started to squeeze. Symone watched in horror as his fingers closed on Drustina’s wind-pipe but Drustina was well versed in killing. Her third dagger strike slashed up into guardsman’s wrist and his nerveless fingers lost all function as his eyes bulged hopelessly. It took little more than a shove with her fourth thrust into his belly to force him to his knees. He sank with his hands supplicating frantically as he fought to draw breath. Symone was stunned at how quickly and silently the guard had been despatched.
By now, Drustina was unlatching the large warehouse door as her followers dashed silently from their hiding places and quickly entered the building. She turned to Symone as she took a firebrand off one of her men.
“Right girl, stay by me and hold this. You, Hengis and I will go for the leader, guide us to him.”
It happened so silently and quickly that Symone had no time to be afraid. She padded silently down the central alleyway and motioned towards a door that stood slightly ajar.
“He’s in there, on your right hand side.” She whispered.
Hengis and Drustina listened with satisfaction to the deep snoring within.
Drustina smiled as she and Hengis shared the same thought, ‘This was going to be too easy.’
The pair slipped inside and within a few silent seconds they emerged wiping their swords.
“Job done.” Drustina whispered.
“Now for the next one. Where are the lieutenants normally housed kid?”
“There’ll only be one. He’ll be sleeping in that dormitory cos it overlooks the only bit of field in any direction.”
Hengis smirked.
“Probably likes it cos there are no decent fields in Norland; all rocks and snow and bloody fiords.”
Drustina stifled a giggle and whispered hoarsely.
“Stoppit you stupid bugger. You’ll start me laughing if you don’t shurrup!”
Symone’s eyes widened with disbelief as she gripped Drustina’s wrist.
“How can you jest at such a time?”
Drustina tensed then shrugged.
“Dunno! It relieves the tension I guess. These buggers have gone soft. I was expecting a fight but they’re all sleeping off the booze. Teach them to be bloody careless.”
With these words, Drustina moved suddenly through the door and promptly tripped over a rope tied from the bed to the table. She crashed to the floor and cursed as the Viking Lieutenant rolled from his bed sword in hand. He lunged towards the place where he estimated his attacker to be but Drustina was too quick-thinking to just lie stunned and immobile. Fortunately her womanly shape, smaller stature and different centre of gravity had caused her to fall differently from a man and she was not lying where the
lieutenant expected. She rolled sideways under the dark mass to her left and thanked the gods it was a large low space under the table. She cursed as her injured shoulder caught the table leg and the Viking roared victoriously as he presumed he had his unknown attacker at his mercy.
His hopes were dashed immediately as he felt Hengis’s blade slicing into his ribs from behind. His roar turned to a bellow before once again degenerating into a frothy gargle of blood and spittle; just as his watchman’s breath had done a few moments earlier. As the Viking crashed to the floor Hengis grabbed Symone’s torch and looked around.
“Where are you boss?”
“Under the table and my bloody shoulder hurts.”
Hengis bent down and reached under the table to hoist his leader who grunted as she rose up to stand by his side.
“I’m going to have to rest this bloody shoulder. It’s almost numb. I can hardly move my left arm.”
Hengis cursed and turned to Symone.
“Stay with her until I check that this part is finished.”
Symone went to sit with Drustina who had slumped onto the bed.
“Are you hurting badly?”
“Yes. I think I’ve torn the muscle. Is it bleeding?”
Symone peered under the jerkin and nodded.
“A bit, from the scar; but it’s not pumping out just leaking.”
“Huh, you’re a great comfort. Stay with me until Hengis gets back.”
They sat talking quietly until a commotion told them Hengis was returning. He confirmed that all the off-watch Vikings appeared to be dead and that one of the townsmen had gone to fetch the healer.
“Good,” remarked Drustina, “assemble the men and let me speak to them.”
Her companions crowded into the bedroom and Drustina explained that she was having great difficulty using her sword. Her shoulder was all but immobile.
“We will outnumber the other watch with the extra townsmen but we’ll still have to keep the element of surprise. They are hardened warriors.”
The group discussed different ploys to beat the remaining Vikings but they all hinged on surprise. Eventually Symone volunteered to be bait and lure a couple of the Vikings into a trap. Drustina was too far gone to object and consequently Hengis took command. He agreed to Symone’s ploy and the band slipped out of the warehouse to sneak towards the town square with a view to laying their trap. Soon Symone spotted a likely trio of Vikings coming out of the inn. She immediately pretended to be terrified and turned to limp slowly away like a wounded bird from the drunken group.
Her action immediately attracted their attention and they called out to her with slurred voices.
“Come here bitch! What are you doing out so early. The night curfew is not over yet!”
Symone swore at them and continued limping towards the base of the main gate. The Vikings decided to pursue the attractive girl and she limped away at a speed estimated to effect a perfect rendezvous at a point just around the corner of the alleyway where Hengis and the men were hiding.
Symone’s ploy worked ... just.
As she arrived at the corner ‘limping painfully’, the Vikings nearly caught her. Frantically she broke into a limping trot and just managed to allow the trio to get near her a few yards after she had rounded the bend. There she ducked into a pre-arranged alcove that seemed to be a dead end. She made pretence of despair then turned to spit and snarl like a cornered leopard.
Her behaviour amused the drunks who crowded into the alcove as she pulled out her newly bequeathed dagger. They roared with contemptuous laughter at the girl’s pathetic act of defiance and crowded together to take her. With their attention concentrated on the tender meat filling their lustful eyes, the Vikings failed to see the real enemy gather silently behind them. With swords already drawn Hengis and his band struck with deadly force. Swords were plunged into kidneys and ribs with such force that the three victims were scarce able to recover their breaths. The shock of such a blatant attack left the three both stunned and enraged at the audacity of what they immediately presumed to be an attack by the townsmen. Cruel enlightenment faced them as they staggered around to confront their attackers.
These were not desperate townsmen, traders and merchants; these were fully armed warriors and they meant business. The Viking’s faces turned grey with shock as realisation chilled their blood and more swords entered their drunken bodies. It was over so quickly that Symone didn’t even have to slip through the door that had been left ajar to permit her to dash away. She stood staring at the writhing trio as their death throes slowly subsided until the three lay still and dead. She was too stunned to move as she stared fascinated at the scene before her.
‘I should be feeling sick or something; shouldn’t I? She asked herself as she turned to stare into Hengis’s emotionless face.
“Just like that!” She remarked with surprise that she didn’t feel nauseous or revulsion.
“How else would you have liked it girl.” Hengis asked. "They’re dead. Were any of these amongst the ones who raped you?”
“I don’t think so ... I don’t know, there were so many and it was ...”
Symone lost her voice and choked back the tears as the memories came flooding back.
Hengis understood the distress and turned to Helios.
“Take her back to Dru, she’s done more than should ever have been asked of her. It’s a woman’s arms she needs to have around her now. Then come back immediately.”
Helios motioned his arm to lead Symone back to the warehouse and the two trotted away. Hengis watched them go then turned to speak with the townsmen.
“Where else are these vermin likely to be hanging out? Surely the won’t all be at the inn?”
The Harbourmaster shrugged.
“It’s the most likely place, unless they’ve taken to billeting themselves on the local people.”
Hengis wagged his head disbelievingly.
“Dammit! All together in one place? They’ve become sloppy! They’re supposed to be patrolling and enforcing the curfew. How many entrances has this inn got?”
“Three public doors, four if you count the kitchen door, it stands alone at the edge of the main square, there are no houses attached to it. You can enter it from three doors at the front and sides.”
Hengis smiled evilly as a plan formed.
“Call it four then, when the weapons begin to fly, some will inevitably make for the kitchen door at the rear. How many are we now?”
“Nineteen when your navigator comes back.”
“And by our estimation there should be about nine of them.”
The harbourmaster and another townsman nodded confidently. Hengis remarked.
“Seems the odds are good enough to simply just walk in there.”
The harbourmaster frowned.
“Would you do that? Just walk straight in and pick a fight?”
“A few years ago I might have done exactly that but I’ve learned a few tricks from the master, or should I say mistress. Are there likely to be any towns-folk in there?”
The harbourmaster wagged his head.
“I shouldn’t think so, everybody detests them. There might be some younger women being held bondage as playthings.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. We’ll have to check the bedrooms somehow.”
“What are you planning to do?” The harbourmaster asked.
“Burn the bastards out. Get some canvas sheets from one of the warehouses.”
The harbourmaster looked puzzled but Hengis had little time to go into much detail.. He simply explained.
“Anybody trapped by the flames upstairs can jump into the canvas tarpaulin.”
“Does that actually work?” The harbour-master wondered.
“Yes, from three levels or less. I’ve been told.”
One of the townsmen stepped forward and added.
“If they have got girls in there, they’re likely to be in the bedrooms on that side. The other side is just a long meeting room.”
Hengis nodded with satisfaction and directed the teams with tarpaulins to get ready as he led his men in four teams, one team to each door.
“Just break open any doors or windows that you can, then fire the flame arrows inside as fast as you can. I’ll lead the main attack in through this door; it’s the widest and leads into the main hall. We’ll have room to use our numbers to advantage in there. Now has everybody still got one of those bright yellow flowers we picked in the swamp. They’ll continue to be our identity badges.”
The men grinned as they made comic effeminate affectations using the flowers as props. Hengis wagged his head despairingly.
“Let’s just get on with it aye. This not a bloody garden party!”
‘At least their moral must be high,’ he told himself. ‘Otherwise they’d be silent and nervous.’
As they formed their designated groups Helios returned with news of Drustina.
“She’s sleeping. The healer thinks she’ll be alright and her arm should recover.”
Hengis wagged his head.
“She’s indestructible that one. Stay with me, you didn’t hear our plan and you could mess it up. Put your flower on.”
Helios was already battle-wise enough to know what was afoot so he drew his sword and joined Hengis by the main door. Seconds later, all hell broke loose as Drustina’s crew attacked the inn from all four sides.
Hengis and several hefty men attacked the main door and found it to be unexpectedly flimsy as it almost fell in at their first blows. With shields raised they plunged forward pausing only to ensure they were not in danger from the fire arrows zipping in through the smashed window shutters. Inside they were satisfied to find that the fire arrows had already spread pandemonium and the Vikings were all cowering under their tables as they tried to makes sense of the unexpected attack. By a pre-arranged signal, the arrows stopped and some archers swapped their bows for swords to join their comrades inside. Most of the Vikings were not wearing their armour because they had been raping the girls upstairs and it was consequently an easy job to despatch them. Some had even left their swords in the bedrooms; so contemptuous were they of the girl’s willingness to fight back. Indeed the girls were terrified but Hengis and Helios could hear their screams above.
With the Vikings so utterly unprepared for battle it proved to be a relatively easy job to defeat them except for a couple of the more responsible ones who had stayed sober, and left their armour on. Hengis was almost reluctant to kill them because they had proven to be the most responsible and careful of the occupiers. Judging by their properly armed state, Hengis felt they probably hadn’t even used the girls like the rest of the dishevelled mob but Drustina’s orders were clear.
‘No prisoners to take the news across the estuary to the main Viking force occupying the Havre.'
With some reluctance, Hengis and his warriors surrounded the pair and quickly overwhelmed them. As Hengis administered the coup-de-grace he had the satisfaction of knowing that the pair had at least died fighting and so by their code, they would enter Valhalla.
By then, the flames were beginning to take hold but the girls screams were still to be heard above.
Helios shouted above the roar of the flames.
“Why the hell don’t they jump?”
“I don’t know, maybe the windows are locked or something. Dammit, I hadn’t planned for this.” Hengis replied.
Before he could even restrain the younger navigator, Helios had snatched up a Viking battle-axe and scampered up the stairs to disappear into the smoke. Hengis cursed and made to follow but the harbourmaster yelled at him.
“I’ll go! I’m familiar with the layout of the inn. You’ll get lost in the smoke.”
The man’s logic was impeccable and Hengis reluctantly agreed. Without hesitation the man rushed up the stairs calling Helios’s name. Hengis turned to his men and yelled.
Try and put some of these flames out. Give them a few more minutes.
His orders were futile but at least it gave his men some purpose now that the Vikings were presumed dead.
Upstairs in the chamber wing, the Harbourmaster had at last located Helios and between them, they started smashing down doors. Inside each chamber they learned that Hengis had been right. The girls were all tied to their beds and the windows were locked and shuttered. It took Helios’s axe to smash the windows open and then cut the girls free from the beds. Even then, some of the girls were reluctant to jump into the tarpaulins and the two men had to virtually throw them out of the windows.
Eventually, as the flames chased them along the alleyway, Helios shouted.
“Is that all of them!?”
“No! There’s another level, this way!”
They came to the last chamber at the top of a second staircase and the harbourmaster let out a bellow of joy as they smashed the door open.
“Chantelle! You’re alive!”
Helios realised that Chantelle was some sort of relative of the Harbourmaster and he attacked the girl’s fastenings with renewed vigour as the flames were already licking at the door behind them.
He was shocked to discover that Chantelle was chained to the bed. It delayed him several minutes as he chopped frantically at the wooden bed frame until eventually the iron lug came out of the wood. Eventually he had the girl free even as the other end of the inn collapsed with a roar. They realised they had little time and gasped with relief when the shutters where smashed free and they saw the tarpaulin crew prepared to catch them. This time however, the escapees were on the second floor. (Third floor to our cross-ponder friends.) Their impact would be heavier.
“You go first Chantelle!” The harbourmaster ordered. “You’re the lightest. I’ll go last, I’m the heaviest.”
Helios was about to argue for he was after all the warrior but the older man made sense.
Chantelle needed no encouragement and flung herself from the window to land on the tarpaulin. The tarpaulin team called to their colleagues for assistance because they all recognised the problem with the extra height from the second level window.
Helios waited nervously until several more men had grabbed the tarp then he threw caution to the wind and carefully hung from the window sill to reduce fall and subsequent impact. Then he pushed off from the wall and fell backwards into the waiting tarp. Even so, his ankle touched the cobbles through the tarpaulin and he bruised his heel.
As he scrambled off the tarpaulin he looked up thoughtfully. The harbourmaster was a much heavier, older man. They were going to need more men to hold the tarp higher.
This had already been foreseen by the tarpaulin teams and even as Helios hobbled to grab the tarp, more men came running to assist.
Desperately, the men held the tarpaulin as high as they could and eventually the Harbourmaster acknowledged their signal. He half fell and half pushed away to plunge into the tarpaulin with a violent thud. Men grunted with shock as the heavy cloth held at first then ripped as the older man landed on the cobbles with a painful cry. Fortunately the tarp had broken most of the man’s fall.
“Ow! Dammit! That hurt. I think my arm is gone!”
The team scrambled under the ripped tarpaulin and yelled with relief as the older man stood to his feet. There followed a mighty cheer for he was a popular fellow in the town and he had just rescued his own niece in addition to the other girls. As they stood around congratulating the harbourmaster and Helios, Hengis arrived to complete a head-count.
Helios was half expecting a row but Hengis was a good leader. Instead he congratulated him in front of the other heroes and quietly intimated he’d chat later. By this time, relatives of the girls were arriving and other town’s folk were bringing food and water.
Hengis had little time to indulge in the hospitality however. He had to report back to Drustina and then start the town’s evacuation. It would not do to be still around when the main Viking force came looking for retribution.
As he hurried back to the harbour warehouse he reflected ruefully on the responsibilities of leadership.
‘No wonder Dru became grumpy and reflective at times. Here he was, still busy with organising things while the rest of the band were celebrating.’
He arrived to find Drustina and Symone asleep and cuddled up while the healer sat beside the bed watching over them.
“Is it okay to wake them? I’ve got good news. The Vikings are defeated.”
His arrival wakened Drustina who stirred and winced as she tried to lever Symone’s arm from her waist. The healer helped to separate them then eased Drustina into a sitting position. Hengis grinned and make a mock courtesy. “
“Are you fit now to receive your audience my lady.”
His smile betrayed his good news and Drustina grinned back.
“Get on with it you silly bugger.”
“The Vikings are defeated; all dead as far as we can discern. The town is free and the townsfolk are celebrating.”
Drustina’s grin turned to more serious thoughts.
“Not celebrating for too long I hope. We’ll have to evacuate the town before the Vikings in The Havre learn of this. Best if we evacuate the town tonight. The further away we are when they learn of this, the better for us all.”
“I don’t know if we have enough ships.”
“Then find out man. Don’t forget we’ve now got the Viking picket ship as well as the Mermaid; not to mention all the town’s fishing boats. Where’s the harbourmaster, he should have a good idea of what’s available?”
Hengis sighed.
“He’s being seen to by the healer. He hurt his arm when he jumped from the window. Give him an hour or so.”
“We don’t have that sort of time. Organise the townsfolk to prepare to leave tonight then have Helios bring the Mermaid from the creek to the dock. The sooner we have an inventory of ships and people, the sooner we can plan ... and act.”
Drustina grunted as she tried to turn and get comfortable. Her wounded arm failed her and she slumped sideways with a curse.
“Damn this shoulder. It’s taking a long time to heal!”
Hengis wagged his head.
“It was a bad wound my-lady. You must rest it.”
“Very well!” She snapped irritably. “But that’s no excuse for you to dawdle. Go and organise things.”
Hengis grinned ruefully to himself and left without saying another word. ‘When the lioness was in this sort of mood it was best to be elsewhere.’ He returned twice to Drustina’s sickbed to report on progress but she was asleep on both occasions so he left word with Symone. Later Helios arrived to report the arrival of The Mermaid at the dock but Drustina slept on. He left word with Symone then returned to the Mermaid to organise food for Gisela and the men who had guarded her. Fortunately by then, food was being stacked on the quay with a view to feeding the exodus. At the quayside he met with Hengis and discussed Drustina’s condition.
“She just sleeps all the time.”
“It’s obviously what she needs. The wound is clean and the healers say there is no infection. We’d best get these townsfolk to the ships.”
“Have we enough capacity?”
Hengis shrugged.
“Just; I think.”
By now a throng had gathered and the harbourmaster was organising the numbers while the townsmen were preparing the boats that had lain idle during the Viking occupation. As dusk fell the first groups of ships were making their way towards Britannia. Once again the mist served to mask their activities and the majority of the townsfolk were on their way to some sort of safety. Eventually only Drustina’s men and a score of the more able-bodied townsmen remained. Hengis turned to Helios.
“We’ll have to waken her now but she’s in no fit state. I’ll take the picket ship, you command the Mermaid. Just make the boss comfortable in the bow cuddy. Symone can attend her, they seem to have struck up quite a friendship.”
“What about the Viking girl?”
“Continue keeping her manacled to the mast. She seems as intransigent as ever in believing her countrymen are not brutes.”
Helios nodded resignedly.
“My country, right or wrong eh.”
Hengis returned the gesture.
“What do those newfangled priests say? ‘Give us the child, you can have the man.’
With that, the pair joined their respective commands and departed the deserted town.
Once Drustina was comfortably bedded down Symone joined Helios at the rudder. They looked back at the silent harbour and Symone sobbed.
“I’m going to miss it and yet, I’m glad to be leaving.”
“Try not to worry miss,” Helios replied. “You might even return if we defeat the Vikings.”
“D’you think so?” Symone sniffed. “Do I want to, I ask myself. There’s nothing left for me there. My brother’s dead and the rest of my family are on their way in the other ships. Where will I make my new home?”
Helios shrugged and nodded to the North West.
“You could do worse than Wessex in Britannia. The land is quite fertile. Maybe find a rich farmer or someone.”
“But I am soiled goods.” Symone thumped the rail angrily. “I might be with a bastard child even as we speak and through no fault of my own. Who would have me?”
Helios was at a loss for words. He was but twenty years himself and he had little wisdom to offer. He did know that in the new religion the girl was oft times blamed entirely for getting with child but in this case there was no doubt of the guilt. Several of the girls in the town had fallen prey to the cruelty of the north. Uncertain of his ground, Helios reassured her.
“I think it best if you speak to Drustina about having children and this new god thing. She’s got lots of experience and advice. Once we are back with our comrades in Solanta, you will learn a lot about Drustina that will reassure you.”
“She’s still asleep but I’ll check on her and that Viking girl.”
“Okay and can you get me something to eat, I can smell Edburg’s cooking.”
“My god, he even cooks in the dark.”
Some of us have not eaten since dawn. I’m starving.”
As if to reinforce his words, Helios’s stomach rumbled. Symone grinned and nodded.
“I’ll get you something now.”
As she picked her way to the bow cuddy she stopped to say something to Gisela. Helios did not discern their words but he saw Gisela nod and look aft. He presumed she needed a call of nature. Symone returned with some bread, a deep bowl of hot stew and a request from Gisela that confirmed Helios’s thoughts. Helios relinquished the rudder to one of the warriors and went to release the Viking princess from her manacle. He escorted her to the stern and invited her to relieve herself.
“You’re not watching!”
“I have no wish to watch, I want to eat my food before it gets cold. Symone can hold the other end of your chain. Now piss! I haven’t time for niceties.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gisela demanded as she nodded towards the sleeping Drustina in the bow cuddy.
“That’s not your concern, just finish you business here and you can go back to your mast.”
He handed the end of the chain to Symone and turned to chat to the steersman while he ate his food. Several minutes later, Gisela emerged from behind the improvised canvas screen and glared at Helios. He ignored her and instead smiled at Symone.
“Best you get some food then sleep by Drustina in the bow. There’s blankets in the cuddy.”
Gisela raged.
“What about me? It’s bloody cold fastened to the mast!”
Helios shrugged.
“That depends on Drustina but I’m not releasing you. You can have an extra blanket. Anyway I thought you Vikings were used to the cold.”
Gisele fell silent; it was obvious she would get no change out of Helios. As the girls settled down for the night, Helios chatted quietly with the watchmen as they kept in touch with the light of the captured Viking picket ship commanded by Hengis.
~o0o~
Throughout the night the wind freshened and by dawn a strong breeze was pushing the Mermaid past Hengis’s longship. Helios took her close alongside so they could speak to each other. The first thing Hengis wanted to know was about Drustina.
“She’s still sleeping so I suppose that’s a good thing, though if this breeze increases any more she will be woken by the motion.”
“The moment she wakes, tell me please.”
“Will do. How are the townsfolk handling your ship?”
“Okay, most of them are fishermen anyway.”
They continued talking until Hengis’s lookout shouted down from the larger ship’s higher mast.
“Sail ahoy; it looks like the ships from Honfleur.”
Both captains altered course to join the refugees and by noon a fairly large fleet of assorted vessels were approaching the Solanta. Two ships that Helios and Hengis readily recognised as mermaid class vessels came out to meet them. Carl was in the lead vessel. When he learned of Drustina’s wound, he immediately oar-hopped across and checked for himself. His voice inadvertently roused Drustina from her healing slumber. She croaked huskily.
“Get me a drink of water please.”
Symone produced one as if by magic as she attended her rescuer. By now Hengis had joined them and they gathered around their wounded leader as information was swapped. It seemed the Saxon king of Wessex was hopelessly ill-prepared for an invasion but several of the Saxon lords and earls were made of sterner stuff. Orders had been despatched the length and breadth of Wessex calling loyal Saxons to the banner while Carl and Althred had been hammering the Saxon fleet into shape. The time had been well spent and the Wessex Saxons now had some idea of what forces they might be facing. The most serious unknown was the date that the Vikings might appear. Despite the Gauls of Honfleur having given them a good idea of the size of the Viking fleet, nobody could be sure of its state of readiness.
One act by Carl and Althred pleased Drustina immensely. They had sent calls out by merchant ships for all interested tribes to join with the Wessex Saxons to destroy the Viking threat once and for all. Carl explained.
“It would have been faster perhaps to send messages by mermaid ships but they are too valuable to let go. We needed every one we have because we had no idea of the Viking threat until you returned.”
Drustina nodded and asked.
“I don’t suppose any information has come back from the other tribes yet?”
“Too early my lady.” Althred added. They’ve only been gone a couple of days. You’ve only been gone five days.” However, they left with a fair northerly wind and if this South-westerly keeps up they’ll have a fair wind back.”
“With reinforcements I hope.” Drustina finished.
“We mentioned you by name,” Althred replied. “I’m told you’re related to the Celtic King Dryslwyn.”
Drustina nodded then sighed.
“I am his great niece by marriage but he remembers me as his great nephew.”
She watched Althred’s eyebrows shoot up as she continued.
“I’ll explain at a later time. You’ve done well; every sword and every arm that swings it, will help.”
“So are the rumours true then?” Althred persisted somewhat insensitively.
“Yes.” Drustina stated matter-of-factly. “So let’s not be hearing any more about me until this bloody war is over.”
Althred caught a warning glance from Carl and Hengis so he deemed it prudent to take Drustina’s advice. The meeting continued as the leaders debated what to do whilst also lamenting their lack of hard information. Eventually a vote was taken and a reluctant decision was taken to have a volunteer team go back to The Havre and send some spies ashore right into the Lion’s den.
Drustina was surprised and pleased that Symone was prepared to be part of the spy mission. She had half expected Heliox to volunteer; the lad was young and adventurous so Drustina’s expectations were not disappointed. In Symone’s case however, Drustina took the girl aside to check her motives.
“I know you’ve suffered gravely at the hands of the Vikings, are you sure this is not some sort of revenge suicide mission for you. The object of this mission is to bring back hard information; we need to know as much as possible about their intentions.”
“Don’t worry my-lady, I have become adept at hoodwinking these obsessive butchers. When they see me, all they see is tasty meat. I use their predatory preoccupations to pick my moments.”
She smiled with hard glittering eyes that betrayed the ripe inviting curves of her young body. Drustina was not deceived though, she readily saw the raging hurt that so motivated the girl — for girl she was with only fourteen years behind her. Then Drustina remembered the clever pretence of injury the girl had portrayed during the previous attack and she nodded her head with slow satisfaction.
‘Here was a girl cut out for spy work.’ But Drustina still wanted the kid back. She saw a real asset in the girl’s sharp intelligence and courage. That evening she took Heliox and Symone aside and explained.
“I must repeat again. The mission is about gathering information. I want you back! No stupid heroics, no dramatic gestures. Carl is experienced in getting people ashore under cover but he does not speak Gaul. You two do and Symone is a local girl. Your cover is as good as we can make it. Be careful! I wish I could come but my shoulder still plagues me.”
She tried to lift her arm and rotate it but the effort defeated her and she winced. Symone frowned.
“Is it going to get better?”
“The healers say yes, but I’ve rarely taken this long to recover before. The sword did some real damage to my tendons. They say they’re not cut but it hurts to lift my arm above my shoulder. Anyway, don’t worry about me, you just make sure you get back. You’ll have to arrange your rendezvous with Carl when you get there.”
Later that night as darkness shrouded their departure, Drustina watched from the cliff and cursed her shoulder injury. Althred stood beside her and sensed the Lioness’s frustration.
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters and other information.
Mabina.... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol.... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn.... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn.... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
~~oo000oo~~
This chapter describes how the Western Celts from Brithony decide to join forces with the beleaguered Saxons in order to protect their own interests. In the second part of the Chapter, Drustina decides she will have to make a spying trip of her own and the cost of getting vital information is painfully high.
Drustina has to choose between accepting being raped in order to gather information and take it back alive or to kill her rapist and probably be executed for regicide.
The Angry Mermaid 75
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 75.
With Carl, Helios and Symone away on their mission, Drustina, Hengis, Althred and several other Saxon Earls got down to the business of preparing some sort of defence against the anticipated Viking attack. They decided to use Cws as the main base to assemble their forces as its central location enabled easy replenishment of supplies for the army by sea from wherever supplies came. Cws could be approached from three different directions by ship so supply lines were harder to shut down. That same central position also enabled large forces to be despatched quickly from Cws as well.
To complement this land strategy, the navy was located in three different locations to ensure that the Viking fleet could not trap the ships in one harbour. Sotona and Cws were the two main bases with Porsea chosen as a third more easterly location to provide a swifter reaction to any invasion from the east. With their strategy decided, it only remained for the allies to reinforce their defences wherever and whenever they could.
To Drustina’s delight and relief, her Celtic roots brought forth the hoped for tribal dividend.
~o0o~
Several days after despatching Carl, Helios and Symone to spy on the Viking occupation of The Havre, Drustina was finishing her midday meal when Althred appeared at the entrance to her tent that had been erected ashore to provide larger quarters to handle the logistical burden of command. He looked hopeful as he spoke.
“A dozen none Viking ships and three vessels that look like longships have been spotted to the south, they are approaching the Nab, Hengis believes them to be Celtic but he’d like you to confirm.”
Drustina immediately put aside her food and stood up to collect her sword and scabbard from the tent post. Althred wavered.
“Shouldn’t you finish your lunch first?”
Drustina glanced at the half empty plate and shrugged as she used the large stone block to mount Seripatese. Her little mare snorted inquisitively and nuzzled Drustina’s knee affectionately as her mistress replied to Althred.
“It can wait. I must check these ships first.”
A quick Dash to the Nab Headland confirmed Drustina’s hopes. The emblems on the sails were certainly Celtic. Most were bearing her great uncle Dryslwyn’s badge while the three longships wore her distant cousin Penderol’s colours. Obviously the Celtic tribes were responding one way or another to the call.
As Drustina sat on her horse giving thanks to whatever gods had persuaded her cousins to ally themselves with the Saxons, Hengis rode up from the beach.
“Are they Celtic ships Dru?”
“They most certainly are. That fiery beast on the sails is the emblem of my uncle. I think I also know how those longships came to wearing Dumnonii colours but I will wait and find out for certain.
“What; your uncle has come in person?”
“I doubt it, he’s an old man now, but I suppose one of his younger kin is in command. Come, let’s away to the inlet. They seem to be heading for Cws Harbour.”
It was only a short distance and Drustina savoured the gallop as she gave Seripatese her head. The little mare spied the beach through the trees and she whinnied with delight as the group emerged from the forest to stretch their legs on the flat hard sand. Drustina, Hengis and Althred easily beat the ships to Cws harbour and advised the townsfolk that the ships were friendly. A noticeable wave of relief washed through the gathered defenders as the tension vanished and a festive air took over. Drustina stood on the only stone quay available and waved urgently as the ships approached. Hengis and Althred grinned as they watched their leader prancing about with excitement for they had never seen Drustina behaving like an excited little girl before; obviously she held her tribal roots dear.
~o00o~
As the ships came closer Drustina peered eagerly to see if she could recognise anybody. Her efforts failed her and she shuffled impatiently until the command ship had secured to the newly repaired quay. A tall man made to present himself to Althred but the Saxon earl directed him to Drustina. For a moment the man hesitated and stared uncertainly at the beautiful woman before him.
“We were told that Drustan, King Dryslwyn’s great nephew was here, commanding a great fleet."
“I am.” Drustina replied somewhat bemused until she remembered that the Brithony Celts had only ever known of her as ‘Drustan Scar-arse’ the boy who had killed Blueface. Then she remembered.
“Dammit! You wouldn’t have known. Drustan Scar-arse and The Lioness of Carthage are the same person.”
The tall Celt peered earnestly at the fine woman before him then replied.
“I am Udris of the Dumnonii; nephew of Penderol who is still high chief. I was the partner of Drustan on the day he killed Blueface. If you are Drustan you would remember me but I do not recognise you. You are a woman for God’s sake! How can a boy become a woman?!! You are an imposter!”
The word had hardly left his mouth but Hengis’s and Althred’s swords were sliding from their scabbards. Drustina was so taken aback by the slur that she delayed staying their hands for a moment. The next moment swords were being drawn on all sides. Drustina called for calm then realised only the Saxons and Gauls understood her. The majority of Udris’s men were Celts and knew no other tongues but Brithonic.
Drustina suddenly found herself struggling with her mother tongue so long had it been since she used it. When she finally found it however she let go with a stream of invective that brought the Celts up short. Such language as they’d never heard from a fish-wife’s lips, let alone a Celtic lady!
“Damn you all to hell, you stupid bastards! Are we not supposed to fighting the blasted Vikings and not each other? Put down your f-----g swords! NOW!!!”
Both Celts and Saxons stopped in mid strike as her angry scream stunned their ears. Only Hengis had ever heard such a noise before and he cursed as he turned to her.
“Dammit Dru, my ears girl! You’ll do that once too often and really offend somebody someday!”
“Udris turned with eyes ablaze as he repeated Hengis’s curse in Celtic for he had not understood Hengis’s language.”
“My damned ears woman! Are you some sort of sorceress? That sound was the devil’s cry!”
She resumed Talking in Latin, a tongue common to most of the chiefs Saxon, Celt and Gaul alike.
“Well it stopped you stupid fools from killing each other now listen to me! There are a hundred men all throughout this army who can vouchsafe for my being the Lioness of Carthage! Only you Udris, amongst all your men have seen the scar on my arse. I was but a thirteen-year-old boy back then but the scar still remains of course. And if you are not to believe my words then look! Here it bloody is!”
So saying, Drustina’s anger caused her to throw modesty and caution to the wind as she bent over and exposed her arse. Udris’s eyes widened as he noted not only the scar that stretched from just below her hip, around under her curvy butt until it finished just past her anus and to one side at the top of her inner thigh. Udris recalled Penderol’s words about ‘the boy nearly ending up with two arseholes’ when they were treating Drustan after the battle. Then as he noted the obviously feminine curves, his eyes widened appreciatively as he noted what were obviously the outer labia of a woman’s parts. The incongruity sat ill with his memory of Drustan the boy, and his famous victory over Blueface.
Then as Udris stood gaping uncertainly, Drustina turned to face him with her grey eyes blazing. Udris’s jaw sagged as he saw not only the last vestige of the scar ending at the top of Drustina’s inner thigh but also Drustina’s male parts.
“My God but you have ... you have a cock!”
“Well noted you oaf. Yes, I was once a boy and this thing still bloody works! — Small as it is!”
Udris swallowed nervously as his gaze lifted to study the curves under Drustina’s jerkin.
“Are those breasts as well?”
“Of course I’ve got bloody breasts you disbelieving fool! And they bear the scars of battle also! Look!”
After hitching up her britches she untied her jerkin and loosed her scarred breasts so that further proof of her duality bounced free provocatively. Udris was thunderstruck and wagged his head in confusion as he tried to get his head around the incomprehensible riddle that stood boldly before him re-fastening the lacing to her jerkin. His Christian sensibilities told him that the freak who stood before him must be some sort of witch, a sorceress, an agent of Satan but he was too frightened to accuse her. He would let the priest do that at some later date, preferably after the Viking threat was passed. For now, it was imperative to allay the greater Viking danger and if that meant an alliance with the hated Saxons, he was prepared to make that sacrifice. Every tribe in Europe feared the Vikings.
Having realised that he had already endangered the Celtic expedition by his impetuous suspicions and unfounded allegations, Udris paused to gather his thoughts. The idea of apologising to Drustina never crossed his mind for the Christian influences amongst the Celts had already burdened the tribe with religious misogyny. His omission however, had not gone unnoticed by Drustina; she simply chose to ignore it. Instead Udris sheathed his sword and this gesture singly served to calm the situation. Swords were returned to scabbards and peace was restored. Drustina then welcomed Udris to the alliance but her words were hollow for she already seen the true nature of her one-time companion in arms. The man was tainted by the new misogyny of the Christian church. However his fleet and small army were a welcome addition to Drustina’s meagre force.
Udris was naturally invited to join the war council and to dine at the high table.
That night as they discussed battle plans and ideas, Drustina was forced to grudgingly concede that even if Udris was a misogynistic bigot, he at least had a decent tactical head on his shoulders. However it irked Drustina that he tended to always address Hengis or Althred and almost ignored her, Drustina! The commander in chief no less! The more Drustina saw of Udris’s attitude to women, the more she had misgivings.
~~oo0oo~~
For a week Drustina’s forces kicked their heels awaiting the return of Carl, Heliox and Symone from their spying trip. Fortunately, with each day, more forces appeared as the word spread throughout Wessex and the Celtic tribes. Each new addition usually arrived with their own ships and this singular fact helped to put Drustina’s mind more at ease, nevertheless she fretted upon Heliox and Symone’s return. To occupy her mind she had her forces practice fighting in harmony whilst assessing each tribe’s preferred weapons and deciding how best to employ them when the time came for the battle. By far the easiest force to co-ordinate was the few cavalry horses and despite their being few in number, Drustina had pinned a lot of hope on the Vikings having even less, if any at all.
Horses were always difficult to transport by ship, especially the open Viking longboats. If the Vikings were to land any useable cavalry force, they would have to carry them in larger, clumsier transports and Drustina secretly hoped that by confronting the Viking fleet at sea, she might find a way to circumvent the long-boat warships and attack their supply train, especially any horse transports.
To this end, she had asked Symone to try and find out how many transports were available to the Vikings.
Eventually one evening, a hubbub down on the stone quay at Cws told Drustina that Carl and the two spies had returned. Drustina met them on the road as they galloped to her headquarters and she pumped them nonstop until they returned to her tent and immediately debriefed. Fortunately, Heliox and Symone had discovered the two main pieces of information. Roughly when the Vikings intended attacking and how many ships the Vikings had at their disposal. Symone had also assessed the types of ships and the news about transports was slightly less than what Drustina had expected. The information helped ease Drustina’s fears. The Viking force was not as large as first thought and they were planning to invade probably within the month of high summer. That meant the Vikings had little time to gather more forces. Drustina now set about honing her own forces to maximum battle-readiness.
Her initial hope was to somehow ambush the Viking supply train but this meant spreading her valuable ‘mermaid’ class of ships very thin as they were forced to scour the whole area between Ynys Whit and The Havre. All her experienced captains were under strict orders to avoid any engagement but each to use their ships’ speed to avoid contact. Their main function was to watch and report as quickly as they could. For her part, Drustina kept the bulk of her Mermaid fleet in two parts, one to north of the Vikings anticipated route and the other further south. She hoped, by dint of superior intelligence, to encircle the Viking rear and harry the supply train as the Vikings approached Ynys Whit or any other part of the Wessex coast. The whole problem however was one of timing. They only had a one or two day window to catch the Viking fleet at sea before it arrived off the Wessex coast and nobody knew where the Vikings intended landing.
To this end, Drustina based the southern jaw of her trap in Charburg under her own command and the northern jaw in the River Arun under Carl’s command. Althred had agreed to command the bulk of the Saxon fleet in and around the Solanta. The main flaw in this tactic was that the Viking fleet might slip through the trap before Drustina and Carl could spring the jaws. The surveillance that Drustina needed to prevent the Vikings slipping out, carried the worst risk of giving their presence away to the Vikings.
Maintaining a watch over the approaches to the Seine would only serve to alert the Vikings that their attack was expected and they, the Vikings, could therefore expect a pretty hot reception when they attacked the Saxon kingdom. The main objective for the Vikings was therefore to succeed in achieving surprise. There was nothing for it but to return a spy to The Havre and learn more of the Viking plans, especially the timing and the anticipated landing area. The more accurate Drustina’s information, the more chance she had of success. She felt that Symone and Helios had done more than enough on the first spying expedition so there was nothing for it but to make the second visit herself.
Drustina’s problems were many-fold and she concluded wearily that she would firstly be better fitted to analyse whatever information came her way. Having gained that information, she would then be best equipped to explore further avenues to exploit her findings. To this end, she found herself being landed ashore north of The Havre one blustery summer’s night as the rain hid their activities.
“I’ll be back here in three days unless I learn something too vital to delay. Have your jolly-boat wait off-shore close to that promontory each night at the middle hour and I will signal with a small light three times repeatedly until you see my signal. Now go; wait offshore and don’t get bloody caught by the damned Vikings, they’ll have ships passing this headland all day and every day between here and wherever there northern base is located. I suspect they are based somewhere near Yorvik but they could well have already invaded further south into Mercia.”
Helios and Hengis frowned disapprovingly as Hengis cursed.
“You should let one of us do this. The risks are too great and you are too damned valuable. If you are lost and Carl learns of this foolishness, he will hang us high for allowing you.”
“I’ve given you my reasons, they are indisputable. See you in three or four days hopefully.”
Hengis and Helios watched with dread as the jolly-boat disappeared into the rain blackened night.
~o000o~
As the boat approached the shore, Drustina advised the boatman.
“Don’t take your boat into the surf, you might lose it. The sea is warm despite the summer rain, I’ll swim from here.”
Drustina had previously secured her sword and daggers to the small log she had brought along for floatation so it only remained for her to strip naked in the darkness. With her clothes fastened higher to a small branch on the log to hopefully keep them dry, she slipped over the side and swam for the shore. The boatman immediately returned to the Angry Mermaid and the ship then returned to sea to wait out of sight over the horizon and invisible to the Viking occupiers of The Havre.
On the beach the surf was not as bad as Drustina had expected and she was pleased with her landing. Her clothes were fairly dry and the night was not cold so she re-dressed and made her way inland before finding an uprooted tree where she took shelter from another rain shower and slept. The sun was well up when she awoke and resumed her journey towards The Havre.
Her disguise was that of beggar-woman, a widow fallen on hard times and wandering lost now that her husband had been killed in one of the Viking invasions. She spoke little Gaulish but her pretence was that of a Celtic girl who’d married a Gaul and had not learned the language before her husband had been killed. To improve her disguise, she rubbed dirt and mud into her clothes and skin to give her the appearance of some lost, wandering, unfortunate widow stained and dirtied by travelling the roads whilst begging.
Her disguise got her into the town by dint of being virtually invisible to other travellers and residents. Once in the city, she simply begged in the square whilst keeping her eyes and ears open. She learned little more that first day except that the Viking King had arrived recently with a troop of cavalry that he intended using for his invasion of Wessex. This was a relatively new Viking strategy and Drustina was forced to determine where the Viking army was training.
The site was not hard to find nor was it difficult to infiltrate. Drustina managed to get some work first by assisting one of the carters delivering hay and oats for the horses, then by simply staying over to muck out the horses and cart the manure away in the evening. This gave her an excellent opportunity to study the Viking horses and what she saw gave her some small confidence and food for thought.
The description ‘horses’ was the first misnomer, they were only one step removed from ponies but a closer inspection by Drustina’s well trained military eye showed them to be tough, hardy animals and well capable of carrying a small to medium sized man. However they would be hard put to move with speed and precision carrying any of the larger, heavier, armoured men in the Viking ranks. What she really needed was to see the Viking cavalry at practice but she only had a couple of days left before making a rendezvous with her ship. The next morning, she prevailed upon the local Gaulish miller to let her deliver an early load of valuable oats to the Viking war camp. Having inveigled him to agree she then made pretence of a mistake by delivering the grain directly to the practice field instead of the stabling area. Her hope being that the guards would assume she was just a stupid woman who had lost her way. Her ruse worked well and she enjoyed a good view of the practice charges as she guided her wagon past the edge of the practice area and approached an important looking officer. In broken Gaulish she intimated the nature of her load and asked where the man wanted the oats. From the back of his large horse, he glared balefully at the stupid woman then growled.
"You stupid Gaul? The horses don’t eat whilst they are training! Take your damned load to the stabling area over there by the trees.”
Drustina lowered her head and mumbled her apologies as she urged her team as directed. Unfortunately, as she raised her arm to crack the whip, her hood slipped down to reveal her pale golden hair. The high ranking officer noticed it because hair that pale was rare amongst Gauls who mostly had reddish or light brown hair. He shouted at the woman.
Wait a moment bitch! Your hair! Uncover all of it.
Drustina cursed silently as she peeled her hood back to reveal the tight plat. The officer urged his horse forward to take a closer look. With her head uncovered Drustina’s beauty was now revealed despite all the dirt she had rubbed into her skin as a disguise. The shabby tattered cloak also failed to hide her comely shape now that the hood was down and the front ties loosened to reveal her faded work-worn gown. Despite her filthy appearance, the fine line of her face and jaw gave her away and the officer could recognise a rare beauty when he found one. He challenged her and Drustina affected a cringing servitude like some petrified peasant woman. She was desperate to remain unrecognised but the officer was no fool.
“Are you a Gaulish bitch?”
“No sir,” Drustina croaked, “I’m a widow.”
“Your accent! Where are you from?”
“I am from Celtic lands, I married a Gaulish trader but he was killed and I am now widowed. I seek work where I can”
“Celtic you say. Your hair is unusual for a Celt, normally they are red or gold, not like yours, almost cream. Are you sure you are not Saxon?”
“Drustina pretended offence and swore in Brithonic.”
“Damn you to hell! I am no Saxon!”
Her use of a Celtic language further intrigued the officer and he ordered her down from her cart as he dismounted. Drustina recognised the lustful expression in the man’s eyes so she knew what was coming next and she debated which way to handle it. It was her male persona that debated the issue.
‘Should she just endure a rape to maintain her disguise or should she fight and kill him.’
The latter solution would serve to complicate things and she might not escape retribution for the man had every appearance of high rank. His horse was not a Viking pony nor was his superb sword a common or garden weapon. His tunic was also of excellent quality. Drustina opted reluctantly for the former solution and hoped her male side would enable her to endure the invasion of her female core. She debated if she should put up a feeble struggle and even hurt him slightly before eventually letting him have his way and use her as a woman. She wondered if her male side could enable her to remain detached enough to endure the trauma. More importantly, she absolutely had to ensure he took her from behind to enter her female part. If he took her from behind, she had a better chance of making sure he didn’t discover her male parts, for if he did discover them, then she would have to kill him.
As she stepped down she carefully slid her belt around so that her dagger was under her breasts then she felt his hand upon her shoulder.
She cried beseechingly for effect.
“No sir, unhand me! I know your intentions; you cannot!”
He laughed coarsely and made to rip her gown open but she stamped on his foot in a pathetic attempt to stop him. He smirked callously as she winced when her bare foot caught his armoured shoe and she cried with genuine pain. Her act was changing to genuine anger and she debated letting him go further. Her fingers strayed towards her dagger but she realised the greater need was the Saxon victory as a precursor to regaining her own lands from the Viking invaders who had destroyed her home and family years ago. She would have to sacrifice her body, her dignity, her self-respect ... her everything. Nevertheless she was going to make him pay in some small part.
“Ow. Damn you; you brute!”
As he grabbed her again she concluded the inevitable was nigh so she twisted in his arms in order to present her rear to his assault however this left her more vulnerable for she would be hard put to deliver a telling stab if things got too dangerous or too violent. In his eagerness to satisfy his burgeoning lust he simply grabbed her around her neck and wrenched her backwards onto his organ as he yanked the hem of her gown up over her head. He started to hurt her severely and Drustina screamed in genuine pain coupled with anger but to his ear it sounded like terror and served only to accelerate his demands. One hand reached around her breasts whilst the other yanked her head back almost breaking her neck until she realised if she resisted further he would quite probably achieve its dislocation. Submitting finally, she cursed loudly as she felt his completed invasion into her most intimate parts. Her stomach churned partly from anger and partly from nausea.
As he started to pound she winced at the brutal pain but managed to keep hold of her sensibilities enough to prevent him reaching around to discover her male parts. She could hardly believe her own reactions when she actually felt relief that he was more interested with fondling her breasts. However even his obscene groping in that area proved grotesque enough to make her nauseas. His groping degenerated into crude squeezing; not hard but enough to be painful and reinforce the sense of total assault. The sense of total negation of her core being caused Drustina to heave as her female side reacted to the abuse. She vomited violently which caused him to roar with contempt as he continued assuaging his brutal lust.
“Puke all you like bitch! You’ll know what a real man feels like when I’m done!”
As her now genuine tears burned hot with anger, she only managed to cope with the insult to her very core by thinking of the sacrifice for the Saxon cause and what she would do to her abuser if she ever caught him on the battle-field.
Eventually as he sated his greed she felt his fluids invading her very core and finally she collapsed sobbing with seeming despair at the insult and injury to her very being. By now he was kneeling doggy fashion and he bayed with contemptuous delight as he withdrew and wiped his organ with her gown.
“Let that be a lesson to you Celtic whore. Don’t tangle with Norsemen! Now get on your bloody wagon and take that food to the horses.”
He stood over her prone form gloating then prodded her with his sword as he repeated his order.
“I won’t tell you again bitch. Get up! Go and feed the horses.”
Stiffly and with the loins burning with agony, she staggered to her feet and cautiously levered her tortured body onto the wagon seat. Softly, she urged her horses forward for she was too sore to endure any violent pounding from the rumbling wagon. As he laughed with contempt she glanced back with a single, enraged reproachful glare.
‘You’ll pay for that you bastard!’ She told herself; ‘or I’ll die making you,’ she finished as she painfully raised her bruised arm and flicked her whip.
Even as Drustina’s team shouldered into their harnesses another officer came up and saluted as he approached the rapist. The new officer’s loud voice was clearly audible to Drustina who had deliberately guided her wagon onto some grass so that the rumble of the wheels on the road wouldn’t drown out his words.
“Your Majesty. The left flank squadron led by Jarl Olafsun is slow to respond to visual signals; they will need extra training or they will be confused and delayed in the charge if your orders are too complex."
Drustina’s ears pricked up with shock as she now realised who the man that had just raped her was. He was none other than Harald cold-blood, the Viking king. Shocked and yet pleased at her discovery, she strained her ears and gently slowed the wagon so that she could still hear the shouted conversation. Harald’s impatience added to his loud voice.
“Well it’s too late to give them extra training now Norveg. We’ll just have to ensure they get time to respond to orders when we charge. Amend the order of battle so that they are ordered forward at least half a minute before the centre and right flanks; and give them a green banner so that I can see how they are responding from my command position to the right of the central squadron. We cannot wait another moon so we must sail in two days time. The next spring tides will be crucial to using the whole of that damned Solanta with water enough for my biggest ships to manoeuvre. Now show that woman waggoner where to send her load of grain before the stupid bitch gets lost again.”
As Norveg trotted over, Drustina hugged herself with vengeful delight. The rape by the Viking king had now proved worth it as far as the forthcoming battle was concerned. Despite the pain in her secret places, she was savouring the information she had just acquired. The brutal humiliation had all been worth it.
She now knew the strength and weaknesses of the Viking cavalry, the time to within a couple of days of the anticipated attack and she now knew the Viking monarch by sight. She knew from other reports that when fighting in battle, the Viking officers dressed little differently from their men and it was difficult to determine who was a valuable prisoner if any captives were taken. However, there rarely where any Viking captives taken in direct battle, because Vikings invariably fought to the death if they knew they were going to lose. At least now Drustina knew her enemy by sight. If they did defeat the Vikings and if they did take any Norsemen alive, Drustina would readily recognise Harald Cold-Blood if he was amongst the survivors.
It remained now to get back to her ship as quickly as possible.
She responded to Norveg’s admonishments with a stupid grin and made a genuine attempt to speed her horses forward. For now time was of the essence. Soon she was amongst the stable hands receiving lewd comments as they unloaded her wagon. With experience born of countless previous attempts, she handled the crude offers with finesse. Soon she was driving her wagon hastily back to town, but not so fast as to attract too much attention. It was essential now that she kept a low profile and returned to the ship.
When she arrived at the mill, she told the miller of her ordeal at the hands of the Viking king but the miller was not very sympathetic. Reluctantly, he acknowledged her plea of sickness and allowed her excuses about being unable to make another delivery. The miller grumbled about ‘bloody women being a liability’ and Drustina slipped away to make her rendezvous with The Angry Mermaid.
It was mid afternoon however so she would not be able to make a rendezvous before the middle hour. With time on her hands, she decided to take a meal at an inn by the north gate that covered the road to Griz Nez.
That night her rendezvous proved quick and successful as Drustina knew it would. The crew of the mermaid were well used to such covert activity and the ship spotted her signal even before the jolly boat had entered the water. Only minutes after the middle hour, Drustina was back on her beloved ship and wearing warm clothes while sharing her discoveries as Hengis made all speed to Ynys Wit.
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.) Ch 7
Magab.... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... The Viking King, father of Gisela (Ch 69)
In this chapter Drustina returns from her spying trip but finds the essential information lacking. She still is not absolutely certain where Harald Cold-blood, the Viking king will land his invasion fleet. There is no other option than to try and tempt him into her prepared killing ground but the risks are high because certainty of success is low. She will have to sacrifice some ships (but not the crews)to get Harals to land on Selsey Bill. Then she must carefully prepare the killing grounds.
The Angry Mermaid 76
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 76.
By the time the Angry Mermaid had reached Ynys Wit, Drustina was well rested. As she stood in her familiar command position she let Helios do the steering because her shoulder was still a little stiff and she had the occasional twinge. She now realised that even the token struggle she had put up in Harald Cold Blood’s grip had served to slow down the shoulder’s recovery. She was secretly grateful that the healer had demanded she resume wearing a sling for another day or so, to rest the joint. She was adjusting the sling and massaging her shoulder as Hengis spoke to her.
“There doesn’t seem to be any guard ship by the Nab or off Porsea. What can Althred be about?”
Drustina frowned. The whole Solanta seemed to be deserted. They continued into the Solanta at maximum speed as a sense of foreboding overtook the Mermaid’s crew. Helios was getting anxious and asked Drustina fretfully.
“D’you think something’s gone wrong?”
“I'm buggered if I can think of anything,” Drustina replied. “When we left, the Viking fleet still lay in The Havre and they can’t possibly have overtaken us. We have come directly at high speed and I’ve seen nothing that resembled a Viking invasion fleet. Something’s odd but I’m not sure what. We’ll push on to Cws then be on the alert for anything.”
By now every eye was straining for any sign of activity but the north shore of Wit seemed deserted. Even the promontory above the Nab seemed deserted of lookouts. Drustina nodded to Helios to take the Mermaid further north so that there could be no nasty surprises if they passed too close to the shore. Finally they arrived off Cws and hove to as Hengis and Drustina discussed what to do.
“I don’t see any ships in the harbour. If the Vikings had overcome them surely there would be longships tied up in there. The town is intact, nothing is burning. I think it’s worth risking going in to find out.”
Drustina nodded slowly. She could think of no better ploy so she told Helios to approach closer.
“We can lower the jolly boat once we’re in sheltered water. I want men up aloft to keep a tight lookout for any activity anywhere, ships on the water or anything on the land. If anybody spots anything, he’s to report it.”
When they came close to arrow range, Drustina hove to again and the jolly boat was put into the water. She made to enter it but Hengis gently seized her arm.
“Not you Dru, your shoulder isn’t fully healed yet. Let me and a couple of volunteers go.”
Drustina cast about the crew and found them all nodding agreement with Hengis’s demand. Secretly she was glad the decision had been made for her, taken out of her hands because her arm still pained her. She had overdone it during her struggle with Harald Cold Blood. She watched as Hengis approached the quay but still nothing was happening ashore. She turned to Helios and Symone with a puzzled shrug and was about to say something when there was a sudden roar from the quayside. At least a couple of hundred men appeared as if from nowhere as they poured out of every doorway and street and spilled onto the quay. They were all armed to the teeth and Drustina watched in dread as the horde advanced towards Hengis. Then as suddenly as they appeared, the horde stopped dead and a leader approached Hengis. Drustina did not recognise him but it was obvious his intentions were friendly. He had sheathed his sword and extended his arms in comradely greeting. From the ship, Drustina could clearly see that the man stepping forward from the Saxon ranks was clearly meaning no harm. Hengis was feeling easier too.
“Who are you?” Hengis demanded.
The Saxon grinned and explained.
“I am Jarl Arden, commander of the garrison defending Cws.”
“Then where are the ships. This harbour should be full of ships.”
Jarl Arden lifted his arms above his head and waved them ‘stiff-armed’ towards the wooded shore on the opposite side of the inlet. Hengis turned, just as Drustina did, to gape with immeasurable surprise and relief as mast after mast appeared as the trees were lowered and ships eventually manifested themselves. Each ship was full of armed men. It was obvious that if the Vikings had attacked Cws, they would have been trapped between a huge fleet of ships and men at their backs and a whole garrison of trained soldiers emerging from the town to confront them as they landed.
Jarl Arden stood grinning as Hengis turned to wave the Angry Mermaid in. Drustina however, had already anticipated him and the mermaid was racing full tilt into the narrow entrance. While the Mermaid manoeuvred, Hengis spoke to the Jarl.
“It’s an excellent plan but what would you do if the Vikings chose to attack somewhere else?”
“We have five squadrons of cavalry. We Saxons have not been idle while your leader has been away spying.”
“How so?” Hengis wondered.
Jarl Arden explained.
“There are only about six or seven beaches where a large infantry force can land effectively and use numbers to advantage. Those are the beaches we have covered. Several of the beaches are on the north shore of the Solanta so the cavalry forces are concentrated on the north side of the Solanta to protect any landing on the mainland. We have signal beacons to warn each salient point. We have practices with our fleets and we can put as many squadrons as we have to concentrate force at any beach within an hour. Wherever the Vikings land between Porsea, Cws or Sotona we can put fifty ships and five thousand men to meet them before the land on the beach. Within three hours, we can have half as many ships and men again to add to that number.”
The Jarl stood expectantly and Hengis nodded with some Satisfaction. Then Drustina and Helios stepped ashore even before the Mermaid had made a single rope fast. Drustina looked about her and nodded with satisfaction.
“Where’s Carl?”
“On the North shore my lady,” Arden replied then added, “that’s where we expect the attack to be most likely landed.”
“Why?” Drustina pressed.
Arden shrugged.
“For no better reason than it’s the Wessex mainland. We know the Vikings have limited resources so it would take two invasions and two separate landings to first take Ynys Wit and then capture Wessex later.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction. Carl and the other generals had made the best plan of a difficult equation. A shout from the lookout tower at the entrance to Cws harbour told Drustina that Carl had come across the Solanta to join her. She nodded with satisfaction as his sail and banner grew larger with approach. Soon he and Althred and Udris had joined with Drustina and Arden to discuss Drustina’s findings.
“I’m making an educated guess that they will be departing from the Havre tomorrow and they should be here in three days. I think they would be unwise to try and land on the evening of the second day because they won’t have time to consolidate any success they might have. Besides, the highest tide is in three days and that’s in mid morning. Wherever he lands he will try to do it at sun-up or soon after.”
“So, have you any thoughts on improving our current plan?” Carl asked.
Drustina wagged her head. There was little she could offer by way of improvement save to add that any reduction in the Viking cavalry force would reduce the mobility. She explained her idea.
“What I want to do is to somehow get around the main Viking fleet and harry the transports in the rear; unless of course they have decided to land their infantry and cavalry together then their warships will have encircled the transports to protect their horses and riders. If the infantry and cavalry are landing together it might be a bit chaotic at the water line as they step ashore but whatever happens we must somehow reduce their cavalry as soon as possible. We might be able to take advantage of that chaos.”
“Where do you think the most likely landing place is?” Althred asked.
Drustina paused thoughtfully.
“If they’re landing cavalry, they’ll need a firm, spacious beach where the cavalry can use their mobility immediately. They’ll want and expect to gain a foothold quickly; their cavalry will be essential to make an early breakthrough to get deeper inland. Where are the flattest, hardest, sandy beaches Althred; this is your home territory?”
Althred frowned doubtfully.
“The beaches either side of the Selsey bill are firm and flat. If they try the beaches around Porsea or Hayling they’ll only be landing on islands where they can be pinned down in the creeks to the north. Their horses will be no good to them in the marshes. What’s more, the land around Selsey bill is fairly clear of trees, open countryside and ideal for cavalry.”
“Would they be likely to know this?”
“Possibly, we’ve had Vikings trading here for years before they became hostile. They know how fertile the land is so they’ll know about the flat beaches and flat areas behind Selsey bill. I’ve got some troops stationed over there but the nearest defensive ships are in Porsea. There is also the old Roman fort across from Porsea. The walls are still sound and we use that as a useful base. I wish we had their skills to address our problems.”
“Amen to that,” Drustina replied as she recollected the infinite number of Roman remains she had encountered on her journeys. “What we really need though are Roman roads to improve our mobility and responsiveness on land.”
The more Drustina considered the available landing grounds, the more she was coming to think that their best defence was to attack the Viking fleet at sea. She desperately needed more ships. She had enough to make a viable defence of and in the Solanta but a force capable of searching out and confronting the Viking force by attacking it at sea would need half as many ships again; Drustina just didn’t have that many. Ever the pessimist, Drustina considered Althred’s words. If the Vikings had been trading in the Solanta then it was fairly certain they knew about the open flatlands backing to Selsey Bill. One thing was becoming increasingly obvious; the steep sea cliffs of Ynys Wit, even if only a couple of hundred feet high, were totally unsuitable for cavalry. To use his cavalry to advantage, Harald Cold-blood needed to land where he had space to manoeuvre. Selsey Bill was beginning to look like the likeliest place. After finishing her meal Drustina acted quickly as she announced her plan.
“We must first plan to meet the Vikings on the open sea. I’m fairly sure they’ll be putting to sea tomorrow and landing in two days in the morning; that is three days hence. Can we make egress from the Selsey Bill more difficult by digging earthworks from the creeks to the base of Porland hill; you know that steep cliff that backs onto Porsea creek?”
Althred sucked his teeth.
“It’s goodly mile my lady, a ditch wide enough to stop a horse needs be six or seven yards wide. That will take most of the Porsea contingent a couple of days, there are some five thousand soldiers.”
“Who are mainly farmers when they are not in armour.” Drustina countered. “Men used to wielding picks and shovelling earth or rock.”
Althred and a couple of the other Saxon earls mumbled discontentedly.
“They might not take kindly to being made to grub about in the earth.” One offered. “They consider themselves picked men.”
“Yes, well tell them I’m picking them for another military duty, namely building more defences. Grubbing in the earth is a damned sight better than being buried in it. Let’s go and survey the area and see what’s the best option.”
Drustina caught Carl’s knowing smile and she grinned surreptitiously back. She and Carl and her old comrades had plenty of experience of preparing battle fields as well as cause to be glad of those preparations. They rose as one and followed Drustina to their ships. Althred and Udris noted the unexpected enthusiasm of Drustina’s chosen men and quickly followed suit. Soon all the Ynys Wit Garrison were accompanying Drustina’s ships towards Porsea. Althred took the lead and guided Drustina into Porsea creek to dock at the old Roman fort. Drustina looked up at the impressive battlements and nodded with some satisfaction.
‘The Romans certainly knew how to build’. She concluded silently. ‘If the Vikings had any Ballista or catapults or trebuchets; (Which she had not seen during her spying foray,) they might have stood a chance of taking the fort. Otherwise it was a matter of laying siege and starving the fortress out. That would take time which the Vikings did not have. Theirs would have to be a very swift and violent campaign to offer any chance of success.’
Drustina was beginning to feel a little more confident especially when she noted that Carl had been busy building exactly such an artillery piece in exactly the correct platform behind the Battlements, just as the Romans had designed it. The entrance to Porsea creek was well guarded. Drustina had no doubt there was another similar artillery piece across on the other battlement across the harbour mouth. She turned to check only to have Carl nod knowingly.
“Yes Dru. One this side, two over there. It will cost them dear to force their way into the creek.
“Can we not put one of them on some sort of floating platform or a couple of barges lashed together then we could move it around the creek and even defend the earthworks; well a goodly length of them.”
Carl paused thoughtfully.
“The best one would be the trebuchet. You can place several medium to smaller size stones in the sling and it has a greater range than the catapults.”
“And making it mobile afloat will make it impossible to capture if the Vikings overwhelm Porsea.”
“Let’s go for it then.” Carl agreed as he motioned to his troops.
Drustina watched with satisfaction, Carl had some of the best men under their command and they made a good unit when teamwork was needed. She turned her attention to the earthworks project where Althred had found a local man and was questioning him about the narrowest place betwixt Porland Hill and Porsea creek. He motioned to a point and Hengis rode around the shore with Althred while Drustina took the Mermaid across the creek as close inshore as she could. By evening, they had chosen a location and men were arriving from all sections of the Saxon army to commence building.
Within a day and a half, Drustina was satisfied with the result. It was not perfect but an unexpected bonus had been the relative softness of the rock forming Porland Hill. It meant that modest boulders could easily quarried then scattered in front of the earthworks to prevent a full tilt cavalry charge that might just enable some forces to jump the trench. A trench some five yards wide and a yard deep (not as much as Drustina had hoped)stretched from the newly steepened cliff base to the shore a distance of about one thousand five hundred yards. A channel had been dug from the one fathom line to the shore to enable the Trebuchet barge to cover the seaward five hundred yards with slingfulls of rocks perfectly sized to kill a man or a horse and yet provide a spread of rocks to be sure of hitting Vikings in or near the trenched earthwork. The last half day was spent re-positioning the allied Saxon, Celt and Gaulish forces back to their original preparations.
That evening, Drustina put to sea east and south of Ynys Wit with all her mermaid class ships. They were the only ships quick enough and manoeuvrable enough to even contemplate attacking the Viking fleet at sea. Meanwhile, Helios was in command of a small flotilla of slow, merchant craft loitering provocatively close to the Selsey Bill. The hope was that Harald Cold-blood’s innate sense of piracy would see the slow lumbering flotilla as a prize to tempting to ignore. Helios’s crews would make pretence of panic and drive their ships ashore on Selsey Bill. The crews would then abandon their ships and make a seemingly panic stricken dash up the beach onto the dry land behind the storm-beach. Hopefully on the ‘wounded bird’ theory, Harald’s men would land some of their cavalry forces ashore in anticipation of rounding up the routed sailors and putting them to the sword. If this ploy worked, Drustina would bring her own ships and the Celtic fleet commanded by Udris, to attack the Vikings from seaward. They could not hope to defeat the Viking fleet but they had prepared countless fire arrows to pin down the Vikings while Althred’s Cavalry prepared attack the landing area.
Drustina knew this all hinged on Harald Cold-blood’s greed, but there were few things more certain in life than greed.
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.) Ch 7
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... The Viking King, father of Gisela (Ch 69)
The first phase of the battle between Vikings and Saxons deals with Drustina's contribution to it's progress before she is burned and incapacitated.
I'm sorry for the long delays between chapters but the superb cycling weather here in the UK coupled with a full DIY workload and my busy social life (Sparkle weekend et al) has precluded me from writing much.
The first phase of the battle takes place wholly at sea the second phase has not yet been started so please bear with me as to the long intervals between chapters at the moment.
Bev.
The Angry Mermaid 77
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 77.
That night, as the long summer evening slowly shaded into night, Drustina took her whole fleet of mermaid ships plus Udris’s Celtic ships out to sea and southwards. Her plan was to wait in the darkness with the bulk of her ships just over the south-west horizon while the usual line of ‘picket ships’ stretched to the north so as to spot the main Viking invasion fleet as it sailed north-west towards the south coast of Wessex. This was the first time Drustina had ever faced the Vikings in full frontal ‘stand-up; knock-down’ battle where both sides were prepared.
She had fully two dozen ‘Mermaid class’ ships and a dozen Brithonic Celtic ships built to face heavy oceanic seas. This meant high freeboards, high prows and wide beams to withstand the mighty breaking wave tops in storms that would ensure certain death to the long, low, sleek, Viking longships. Sadly the high summer put the Celtic ships at a disadvantage because the seas were relatively calm.
She also had the three captured Viking longships that had been captured prizes for the Dumnonii when Drustan had helped defeat Blueface. There was also a veritable abortion of a craft that Carl and Althred had fashioned from two Old Saxon longships that were deemed not much use because of their age and decayed condition. The Saxons, at Carl’s encouragement, had secured the two craft together like a modern Catamaran and built a small trebuchet on the stable platform the hulls provided. However, this craft could only work in a relatively calm sea so Drustina was forced to let it loiter alone within the Eastern lee Ynys Wit.
In fact, the ‘catamaran’ was deemed more use to Althred’s contingent waiting hidden in the Cws Creek and the Porsea basin. Fortunately, by dint of the picket line of ships, the trebuchet catamaran was within contact distance of Drustina’s main force. During the night, Drustina encouraged all men to eat and sleep ready for an early morning attack. She even tried to sleep herself but the tension was too much. Eventually, as Dawn slipped long slender fingers of light into the sky, Drustina saw a signal arrow fired from the picket ship to the north and east of her. Immediately the whole fleet was on alert and started to sail towards the signal. As the Viking fleet appeared silhouetted in the dawn sunlight Drustina counted the odds, she turned to Hengis who returned her concerns.
“How many d’you make?”
“About seventy.” Drustina replied. “Of which about sixty are longships. The ships I’m more concerned with are those fat trading ships in the middle line. They’ll most likely have the cavalry horses.”
“Hence they are the ships enjoying the greatest protection.” Hengis frowned. “Two lines of longships on either side of them.”
Drustina shrugged.
“Well! Those are the ones we’ve got to get to. Unless we can stop those horses getting a foothold on the Wessex shore, the Vikings will have a bridgehead and they’ll be a bastard to remove. I don’t think King Ethelred will have the stomach for it and if Harald gets a grip on this south coast, you can write finis to any Saxon victory. Twenty years and the whole damned country will be speaking Norse.”
Hengis looked again at the overwhelmingly powerful Viking fleets and turned thoughtfully towards Drustina.
“So! Any ideas?”
“We’ve got the weather edge. They’re close hauled while we’ve got a soldier’s wind.”
Hengis smiled.
“Go on; tell me you’ve got an idea.”
Even as she studied the five lines of Viking ships strung out and determinedly maintaining a north-westerly course, Drustina Realised Harald’s ships could not get any closer to the wind. They could not turn and meet Drustina’s ships without swinging through eight points of wind and sailing south-west; a course that would take them away from Wessex. If Harald Cold Blood wanted to maintain his main objective of invading Wessex he would have to continue sailing north-west. If he did this, it meant the ships to the rear would be hard pressed to get up to the fighting zone if Drustina concentrated her forces against the front port section of the Viking formation. Only about ten or fifteen Viking ships could immediately close up to defend the troop ships. Furthermore, the Viking warships to the north of the line would have to turn and thread their way between the slow lumbering troop carriers and that would totally upset Harald’s protective formation as the troopships would be forced to avoid the crossing escorts. If the Vikings took to using oars to close up their men would have to keep up their rowing for several hours and the Vikings had already encountered Drustina’s Mermaid ships. There would be little enthusiasm to indulge in several hours of hard rowing simply to exceed the mermaid ships by perhaps one or two knots. They had learned to their bitter cost that the mermaids were fast, unbelievably fast.
Drustina had thirty-nine ships running free before the wind. More importantly, she could gather them tight together and deliver a fast heavy punch where it mattered, into the enemy’s foremost weather squadron the forward port side of the formation. She turned to Hengis.
“Pass the message; tell all the ships to close up tight. We’ll hit them with one big powerful punch but not yet. Let them get closer to the Nab before we attack.”
“Go on,” Hengis replied. “I’m intrigued.”
“The closer we bring them to Althred’s squadrons and that trebuchet abortion that Carl has fashioned, the better our chance of concentrating all our forces. As they try to enter the Solanta they’ll be facing Carl’s forces ahead of them and ours on their port bow with the weather edge. Once they get anywhere near the Trebuchet ship we’ll attack their port forward section. I don’t know what range that thing of Carl’s has got but a few hefty rocks hurled into the hull of one of those longships will do some real damage; possibly even sinking one or two. I can live in hope.”
Hengis smiled as he swallowed the last of his cold meat.
“Carl told me his plan was to fire small loads of fist-sized stones at the greater ranges that will force the Vikings to take protective measures. Then, as they get closer, he’ll change the ammunition to much heavier boulders that should smash through the planking of those long ships. He’s depending on you to give him cover with fire arrows if he ends up in the thick of it. He’s too slow to get away from any ship that puts alongside him.”
Drustina sucked thoughtfully.
“It could work; in fact it plays into my plan. To be honest I’d more or less written that contraption off because it’s so slow but if he can damage two or more longships he’ll force Cold-Blood to reconsider their approach route. He can’t afford to have the port side columns of his fleet weakened too much because we will outnumber him by too much on this side. We’ll continue shepherding his fleet on a North-westerly course towards the Nab point and Carl’s artillery piece. Keep our ships closed up and when I give the order, we’ll come hard around and drive straight into their van when they come within range of Carl’s trebuchet. I’ll send one ship to stay close to Carl in case they have to evacuate if the Vikings reach them. How much ammunition has Carl got?”
“Enough for fifty loads of stone but he reckons the Vikings will be upon him before then and he’ll have to abandon. He told me he’s got preparations to dump the rocks if they are overwhelmed.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction. ‘If Carl could get off fifty slings of stones, he could do some real damage.” She changed her orders.
“Send two ships to protect him with fire arrows. The more protection we give him and his men; the more he’ll be inclined to keep firing until they run out of ammunition.”
Hengis nodded with Satisfaction and immediately despatched two mermaid class ships towards Carl’s catamaran. Drustina watched them go then, when they reached Carl’s catamaran-barge she decided it was time to make her move. Even as she passed the order to advance, she had the satisfaction of seeing Carl fire off the first load of fist sized rocks. She watched the splash as some of the stones tore holes in the sail of the lead longship while some stones landed amongst the rowing crew. It seemed however that most of the stones splashed into the water just in front of the approaching ship. Drustina smiled with no small satisfaction as she noted that the commander of the longship diverted his attention from Drustina’s approach to the unquantifiable threat from the floating trebuchet. Consequently, Drustina had advanced to well within bow-shot before the Viking commander had realised he was under attack from two places, directly ahead and his port side.
He passed the order to the men to arrange their shields into a turtle to protect them from the falling rocks but this act only exposed the rowing men to the horizontal flights of the arrows zipping in on flatter trajectories from the side. For long seconds, confusion reigned as the Viking crew struggled to re-arrange some of their shields above their heads whilst leaving others to protect them from the flaming arrows slicing in horizontally.
The upshot of their efforts was to lessen the line of shields along the rail and thus leave some rowing positions exposed. Naturally the rowers in these positions were reluctant to expose themselves too much and the speed of the rowing dropped commensurately. Drustina had not anticipated this unexpected bonus but she took full advantage and soon the after rowers were incapacitated as flight after flight of arrows decimated their unprotected ranks.
As she watched the lead ship’s speed drop she saw the next salvo of stones crash onto the turtle but the turtle held. The stones were too small. Carl had obviously realised the problem because the next salvo comprised only a dozen or so larger boulders. Drustina watched with evident satisfaction at Carl’s success.
‘He’s obviously practised a lot with those stones and the range settings!’ She surmised as the turtle crumpled in several places and howls of agony erupted from the longship. The rowing rhythm faltered some more as injured men had to be replaced and Drustina decided it was time to strike. She led two other ships directly into the port side of the lead vessel and smashed many oars as the tough hulls of the mermaid ships slammed against the long-ship’s oars. More curses and howls erupted from the packed Viking crew as the broken oars whipped back and forth like scythes. As the mermaid ships came to rest with their bows embedded in the side planking of the bigger Viking ship, they pumped as many fire arrows as they could into the massed ranks of the Viking crew then steeled themselves for the enraged onslaught by the remaining uninjured Vikings.
It wasn’t long coming but the broken oars of the Viking ship precluded any chance of ‘oar-hopping’ aboard. They only had three points where they could board the three mermaid ships and that was by ‘shinning’ up the bow-posts of each of Drustina’s ships. This proved impossible for Drustina’s men could duck down behind the high bow-rail and concentrate their fire wherever they wished including the three points where the Mermaid bows were embedded in the long-ship’s side. Drustina looked across at her companion vessels and noted that the vessel that had impacted amidships had actually broken the long-ship’s planking down to the water line. It only remained for the middle of the three attackers to back off and expose the cleft to the sea. They arranged for one of the three captured longships crewed by the Dumnonii to row past and throw a line to the stern of the middle vessel. As they quickly fastened the stout rope, the speed of the passing vessel yanked her smaller ally out of the cleft in the planking and Drustina watched with evident satisfaction as the Viking long-ship started to take in water.
“That’ll keep them busy.’ She thought as she debated how they were to extricate themselves from the after end of the sinking Viking.
As Drustina signalled for assistance from another of the captured Dumnonii longships she could fail to hear more curses coming from the inner longship as Carl’s trebuchet hurled several volleys of increasingly heavy stones as the trebuchet crew became more proficient and the inner lead ship got closer. She fretted until the Dumnonii longship had yanked her free of the Viking then she steered a course abaft of the disabled ship to attack the stern of the inner ship with more fire arrows.
This tactic served to slow the inner lead ship further as slowly the fire arrows began to pick off any improperly shielded Vikings. Other ships in Drustina’s fleet now took notice of her tactic and started to attack other longships in ratios of three to one. This was only possible because Drustina’s forces were up-wind of the centre of the Viking columns and thus the Vikings could not sail directly into the South-westerly breeze. After thirty minutes, four Viking were sufficiently disabled to be discounted whilst one Mermaid ship had been forced to flee to Nab point and beach herself before she sank.
At one stage, The Viking supply train came too close to Carl’s trebuchet and the second Viking merchantman paid a heavy price. Carl had chosen the largest stones he had and fired them into the transport ship with devastating accuracy. Drustina turned briefly to watch with satisfaction as the transport came to an abrupt halt as the masts swayed because of broken stays and the sails became unmanageable. As men exposed themselves to injury as they struggled to repair the rigging, Carl launched a second salvo of medium-sized stones to decimate their ranks. The Transport ship was reduced to a waterlogged hulk as horses screamed in terror and broke loose amongst their keepers. Chaos ensued as the horses plunged into the water and either swam for the shore if they were just ordinary mounts for the ordinary cavalry or sank like a stone if they were precious officer’s horses and too heavily armoured to swim. As she watched the carnage, Drustina had a brainwave.
The trebuchet was an ideal weapon to wipe out the line of transports now that the van of the invading Viking fleet was totally out of formation as they were reduced to protecting themselves from the tenacious, terrier-like attacks of Drustina’s smaller, more manoeuvrable Mermaids. Having realised the unbelievable advantages offered by the Trebuchet, Drustina attached her own Longships to Carl’s catamaran and the three captured Dumnonii prizes rowed as hard as they could to tow the artillery piece deep into the Viking fleet. Total mayhem followed as within half an hour, despite repeated attacks by the Viking escorts, the trebuchet had sent a further three of the transports to the bottom. The backbone of Harald Cold-blood’s invasion force was being decimated before his very eyes.
This unexpected success for Drustina did not come without a cost however, as her nucleus of mermaid ships bit deeper into the Viking lines, the Viking superiority of numbers began to tell. Now that the Mermaids were in the thick of the melee, the Viking oars began proving their advantage. The oars made them more manoeuvrable than the mermaids. Drustina needed reinforcements in the shape of Althred’s Saxon longships which were virtual copies of the Viking ships. It was useless trying to fire signal arrows because the sky was still ablaze with fire arrows as Drustina’s bowmen kept up their barrage of merciless destruction. Somehow, Drustina had to get a message to Althred’s ships. If not, her fleet would be overwhelmed. For long moments, Drustina watched mesmerised as her forces started to lose their momentum. She was stumped for ideas. She knew her plan of attack had been a calculated risk but at least she had halved Harald’s waterborne cavalry as the fifth transport finally succumbed to the trebuchet’s devastating barrage. Despite this destruction, Harald still had five remaining transports and an undetermined cavalry force aboard them. He still had a viable invasion force and Drustina’s fleet was facing total destruction. It was now that Drustina was compelled to think strategically of her own long term strategic aims as opposed to the short term tactical needs of the Saxon defenders of Wessex. Somehow, she had to extricate her fleet and run for the cover of the Saxon shores and the additional ships lying hidden in the several creeks like Cws, Porsea and Hamble. There was nothing for it but to retreat up the Solanta and trust to the commitment of Althred’s ships to join in the fight and assist them.
Firstly she had to gather the Celtic ships into a defensible squadron and despatch them towards Solanta while the Dumnonii longships prepared to release themselves from the Trebuchet catamaran then Carl was instructed to scuttle it. Drustina put the Angry Mermaid alongside the trebuchet barge to talk to Carl. At first he was reluctant for he still had several salvoes remaining and there was a brief argument with Drustina as he pleaded to be allowed to exhaust his stocks of ammunition.
“Look Dru! It will take a good half hour to scuttle her and those bastards could easily stop her sinking if they get onboard. If we exhaust her ammunition stock she is useless even if she is captured, for it will only take a moment to disable the trebuchet. Give me ten more minutes to try and sink one last transport ship. This has been the most telling and effective tactic during the whole battle.”
Drustina fretted as she watched the gathering longships massing to overwhelm the catamaran/barge. She knew full well that the trebuchet had been an amazing and unexpected development; Carl had been right. She turned to him with worry betraying her feelings for him.
“You won’t have much time to escape once your escort and tows retreat. You’d best operate with a skeleton crew and I’ll tie my ship to you until the last possible moment.”
Carl smiled knowingly.
“I knew you’d be stupid and offer to stay. You go! And delegate another ship to stay by me.”
Drustina cursed as a tear burned hot in her eye.
“Don’t you tell me what to do! You know I’d never leave you.”
“Dammit Dru! You’re too important to the cause. Leave now, I’ll take my chances.”
Drustina raged at him and screamed her frustration.
“Don’t you tell me to leave you. You know I can never do that. Don’t you understand you stupid oaf! I bloody love you! We’ve been through too much together! Now fire off those last Salvoes and I’ll wait until the last possible moment before releasing your tow-ships. Fire your bloody trebuchet, fire for all your worth! Go on, quickly, no more bloody arguing!”
For a shocked moment, Carl stood gaping with open mouth as he stood lost for words. Then he recovered his wits and span around to address the trebuchet as Drustina ordered the three Dumnonii longships to lengthen their towlines and get ready to slip as soon as she gave the order. Even as she turned to watch Carl and a couple of his crew prepare the trebuchet again one of the Viking longships was close enough to hurl spears. She turned to Hengis and cursed.
“Ten men to put a turtle around him with their shields. Go on! I won’t abandon you!”
Hengis wagged his head for he had heard her declare her love for the giant blond Saxon and knew now that she would take crazy risks to protect him. There was no choice but for he and nine others to form a turtle as the remainder of the mermaid’s crew retaliated in kind against the advancing longship by peppering it with fire arrows. Their efforts caused the Viking to momentarily deviate but it quickly resumed its approach and before Carl had fired off his final salvo the Viking had crunched violently against the barge on the opposite side to the Mermaid. Fifty enraged Vikings spewed out onto the catamaran platform. At point-blank range, Drustina’s bowmen were picking them off like skittles but there were too many of them. It was only at this close range that Drustina recognised Harald Cold-blood almost prancing with anger at the steering oar of the longship. He had been unrecognisable in his sombre battle armour but he was now prancing because he had recognised Drustina as ‘The Lioness of Carthage’! Worse still he now realised she was the same Celtic bitch he had raped on the cavalry training field but a few days earlier. With a bellow of incandescent rage he flung himself onto the barge and hurtled across the deck to confront the bitch who had brought his plans to nothing.
Drustina whipped out her sword to defend herself as several of her loyal guard followed suit. Even in his rage, Harald realised she was too well protected for the rail of the Mermaid was appreciably higher than the heavily laden barge. Deflected from his purpose, he turned to attack the preoccupied Carl.
Drustina’s scream of warning only just alerted Carl in time and he turned wide-eyed with fear as Harald Cold-blood charged. Carl had no sword to hand so he reached down for a jar of oil that had been kept hidden under the frame of the trebuchet. Drustina realised that he was going to ignite the catamaran/barge before abandoning it. Unfortunately Harald and a dozen of his best warriors were now rushing towards Carl and his turtle.
Drustina watched Carl retreat under the turtle then it shuffled towards the Angry Mermaid. As soon as the turtle was clear of the oil stain she instructed her archers to fire their flaming arrows into the spilt oil. Flames immediately erupted from the workings of the trebuchet but by now, Harald and his royal bodyguard had fallen on the retreating turtle. It was obvious that the turtle was outnumbered and hampered by their tight formation and Harald’s power would soon reduce it to a shambles. Without a thought for her own safety, Drustina and several other swordsmen quickly flung themselves at Harald’s Vikings from the rear as the flames quickly spread along the barge. Drustina now realised that Carl had prepared well for this moment for under the temporary deck he had placed old canvas sails saturated with oil and these had now ignited. Even as Drustina's sword pierced one of Harald’s bodyguards, everybody realised the barge was turning into a raging inferno. Harald roared with rage again as his attention was now diverted between the flames that threatened to engulf him and the Celtic bitch that was now facing him across the wall of flame with sword drawn. Frustrated in his ambition to finally finish off the nemesis to almost all Viking ambitions in the south of Britannia, he turned towards the turtle that was still struggling to hold its formation as it tried to avoid the flames leaping up between the planking
Fortunately, some of Drustina’s bodyguard had ended up on the other side of the belching flames and they somehow managed to partially deflect Harald’s enraged onslaught away from the turtle. Their efforts were not enough however, and Harald howled with delight as he finally reached the turtle and it disintegrated even as it almost reached the Angry Mermaid’s rail. It remained for the men in the turtle to somehow open up and enable the un-armed occupants to scramble aboard the mermaid and gain its sanctuary. With Harald furiously slashing away with his sword, Carls exposed back immediately became a perfect target as he struggled to reach out and clamber up over the Mermaid’s rail. Through the flames, Drustina saw the danger and once again through caution to the wind. She leapt through the blazing wall that erupted through the deck and slammed her sword against Harald’s just as he lunged forward. Her parry managed to deflect the blade and Carl felt the blade slice off his right ear as it embedded itself in the Mermaid’s woodwork. Harald’s momentum and bulk however had slammed Drustina to the ground and she crashed back into the flames screaming as she felt her left shoulder and neck being scorched. Carl span around and screamed up to the mermaid’s crew to give him a sword whilst Harald cursed and struggled to yank his sword out of the woodwork. Unfortunately it had sliced up between two planks and as Harald levered his weight on it to free it, the blade snapped off.
As Carl took the sword proffered by a swordsman on the Mermaid, Harald realised he was now virtually weaponless. As Carl’s sword sliced deep into the Norse King’s forearm, the tyrant was forced to leap back through the flames to where his own men were now stymied by the blaze. Only then did Carl hear Drustina’s screams as she struggled to escape the flames. He reached out to grab her unwounded shoulder and yanked her to safety. Frantically he smothered her burning hair and almost hurled her up into Hengis’s waiting arms before ensuring he was the last man to leave the barge. Even as he scrambled up the side of the Mermaid the gap between her and the barge was widening as one of the Dumnonii prize ships had thrown another towline and yanked the mermaid clear of the blazing barge. Hengis had now taken rightful command of the Mermaid as Drustina collapsed in pain while Carl simply sat shocked and wondering how to address Drustina’s burns. Quickly, he and Hengis exchanged ideas.
“You’ll have to get her to the healer in Cws.” Carl declared.
Hengis stared down thoughtfully then looked up at Carl.
“Will you be okay handling the rest of the battle?”
“I’ll have to be, besides, once those cowardly buggers discover that there’s a chance of success, they might come out and fight.”
“They’ll bloody have to or we’ve lost. There’s no way our fleet alone can face this lot.” Hengis agreed. “So what d’you plan?”
“Much as Dru said it.” Carl replied. “Draw the wolves up into the Solanta and close the trap astern of them.”
“You’ll also be trapped up at the top by the great forest.”
“But they’ll be trapped between superior forces. Anyway, we’ve no other choice. I’ll transfer to the Dumnonii longship and operate my command from her. You make all speed for Cws.”
Hengis agreed reluctantly and Carl crossed to the Dumnonii prize ship. As they parted company, rumours of Drustina’s impending death were already beginning to circulate around the fleet. Serious burns were rarely recovered from and Drustina was burned up the back of her left side from waist to neck with some burns to her ear and cheek. Her long lustrous hair had also been scorched from her nape left scalp.
~~oo00oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... King of Malta.
Alviar.... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos.... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 69 The Viking King, father of Gisela
This chapter describes Drustina's battle with Harald Cold Blood during his attempt to invade and occupy Wessex. I have included a map with a Gazeteer to help illustrate battle sites and locations.
The Angry Mermaid 78
Or,
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 78.
Map of latter-day Solent with list of locations pertaining to the battles described hereinunder.
Solanta = The Solent from the Needles to the Nab and including Southampton Water.
Sotona = Southampton.
Hamble equates approximately to the River Hamble where Althred’s squadron waited.
Dibden shallows is on opposite bank to Southampton.
Cws(Celtic) equates to Cowes (Saxon)
Porsea = Portsmouth Harbour
Beulah = Beaulieu.
Whitecliff Bay = Nab point. (Eastern most point of Isle of White (Ynys Wit in Caltic)
First Battle commenced due east of Bembridge then a running battle/pursuit continued up the West Solent and Southampton water to finish off at Dibden Shallows where Harald finally landed.
If anybody wants more information, I suggest they Google’ Solent’ on Google Earth.
The Angry Mermaid 78.
As Carl enticed the Viking invasion fleet further up the Solanta, Hengis pushed the Angry Mermaid to the very limits of her endurance as he dashed for the shelter of Cws creek. Immediately after Hengis landed Drustina’s disfigured and wounded body ashore in Cws, he engaged in a row with the local Saxon commander of the Squadron Guarding Cws creek.
“Why didn’t you come to our assistance, you could plainly see the battle from the Nab point? It’s high enough and prominent enough to give your lookouts a clear view of the whole eastern approaches to Solanta. You must have seen that we were outnumbered!”
“I wasn’t ordered to by Althred.”
“How could Althred have possibly ordered you to sally forth and engage? He is waiting in Hamble inlet and totally invisible to us. He would have no idea of how the battle was progressing; he would not even know there was a battle! That’s a stupid excuse; you are supposed to use some initiative you know?”
“But King Ethelred requires us to be cautious. He cannot risk losing the first sea battle to the invaders or that would leave the whole realm of Wessex open to Viking predation.”
“The battle that is not engaged is most certainly lost, how the hell can you hope to win a battle if you’re too afraid to go forth and fight. You’ve lost before you’ve even begun!”
The Saxon commander seethed at Hengis’s censure and his eyes blazed as he tried to defend his action or more correctly, his inaction.
“So what would you have me do? How can we venture forth at the moment with the whole Viking fleet passing the mouth of the creek as we speak? Where are they going, why are they ignoring Cws?”
Hengis wagged his head with despair; it seemed the Saxon commander had no appreciation of strategy, only tactics; tactics that were only plainly obvious if and when he actually found himself in battle. Hengis grew impatient.
“Listen you stupid fool. The Vikings are not concerned with Cws or Ynys Wit. This whole island is little more than a pimple on the arse of Britannia! Harald Cold-Blood seeks a final big showdown with Ethelred. He seeks the Kingdom of Wessex to add to his realm. Ynys Wit is just a mopping up exercise if he beats the Saxon king!”
Having received a simple insight into the Viking’s strategy, the commander finally acknowledged his shortcomings and reluctantly agreed with Hengis’s arguments.
“So what would you have my squadron do? To set forth now would be suicide. We have to bunch together to exit the creek and the Vikings would easily encircle us. I have only fifteen ships to their hundred.”
Hengis wagged his head scornfully.
“It’s only sixty two. We have already sunk four of their horse transports and disabled sixteen longships. It’s only cost us two ships up until now. At this rate we can beat them, for the further up the Solanta they go, the more confined they become and more vulnerable to shore based trebuchets. Obviously we won’t sally forth just yet, but we will wait until they have passed the entrance to Cws creek. Then we can harry them from the rear.
The Saxon could not fault Hengis’s arguments so he ordered his fleet to make ready. As the buzz of activity filled the Cws creek the town healer made herself known to Hengis. She spoke quietly so as to not spread alarm as she explained to Hengis about Drustina’s wounds.
“She’ll live but she’ll not be fighting for month at least. I’ve dressed the burns with honey but she’ll be badly scarred for the rest of her life. Up the left hand side of her back and shoulder-blade, the nape of her neck to the back of her scalp and her ear is badly burned. The flesh is melted but I don’t think she has lost her hearing. Fortunately the burns to her left arm and hand are superficial, so the hand will by useable when she is recovered. She won’t be a pretty sight from the left and back but she’ll be able to hide the ear and the neck scars with her hair by combing it over. Women can do wonders with their hair.”
Hengis sighed with relief that Drustina his leader would live but he did not relish telling Carl. He could not however, stifle the internal smile as he pictured them trying to listen to one another with each of them having a missing ear. The healer left to attend to Drustina’s wounds and Hengis turned his attention to accompanying the Saxon squadron out of Cws creek and attacking the rear of the Viking invasion. As he emerged from the mouth of the creek he was relieved to note that Carl must have also despatched a messenger to the Porsea squadron because that was also emerging from the Porsea harbour and attacking the Viking leeward quarter. The trap was sprung.
As Harald cast about him in the afternoon sunlight he realised he was now being progressively matched ship for ship by the added Saxon forces. Finally, as Drustina’s battle-weary squadron retreated past Hamble Spit, Althred’s main force of about twenty ships emerged at speed from the Hamble creek. Harald roared his disappointment as he realised his ships were now mightily outnumbered. He decided his best tactic was to land immediately and unopposed at the Dibden shallows and thus get the remainder of his land invasion forces ashore. Once he had a beach-head, he could decide what plan of action to take.
It took but a moment for Carl to realise that Harald had given up pursuing him up the Solanta. The Viking warships were manoeuvring into a protective circle while the clumsy supply ships were driving themselves hard up to the west bank of Dibden creek in order that landing planks could be deployed to disembark the remains of Harald’s cavalry. The warships created four defensive rings around the supply ships and the landing was too far south of the trebuchets. The Saxons had arraigned the huge slings further up the Solanta. For long moments Carl was forced to watch the Viking landings going ahead as he debated what best to do. Finally, he noted that Althred, the Saxon commander was trying to fight his way between Hamble Spit and the outermost ring of Viking warships. This action enabled Carl to decide. It was obvious that Althred was trying to squeeze past the semicircles of Viking guard-ships, to reach Carls ships. Carl decided to meet him half way and promptly flung the whole weight of Drustina’s squadron at the other side of the choke point. The Viking perimeter finally distorted inwards enough to let Althred’s ships join Carl’s. They quickly discussed the situation. Carl was very distressed for Drustina’s words were ringing in his ears.
‘If he lands his cavalry ashore in force, he will be hell’s own devil to stop’.
Carl was mightily disturbed that Harald had successfully landed but Althred was able to put his mind at rest.
“Fear not fellow Saxon. Yes, he has landed his horse, but he has done so in the worst possible location.”
“Explain!” Carl urged.
“Can you not see, but a mile back from the shore; the thick forest of trees stretching from end to end of the Solanta.”
Carl stared and shook his head despairingly.
“I see them but what use are they, save to build trebuchets and ballista? Or perhaps reinforce his landing with some sort of wooden fort.”
Althred grinned.
“You don’t understand. That is the great forest; it stretches many miles to the north, south and west. That forest will swallow up an army and Harald’s horse will be almost useless. The forest is almost impenetrable in most places and a man on a horse will be totally disabled. The undergrowth is thick with brambles and briars almost as thick as a man’s wrists. Harald’s horse will be trapped like stags in thickets. The only usable roads are well known to the local people and they know every ambush point from here to Sotona. A few thousand archers will soon destroy his cavalry.”
“But what of his axe-men?” Carl pressed. “Viking axes are notoriously destructive; they’ll make short work of a few brambles and briars.”
“Not if there’s a bowman hidden in every thicket and bush.”
“Have we got that many?” Carl wondered aloud.
“We will have by tonight. We can ferry my own bowmen across the Solanta tonight and let them spread out throughout the forest. The Viking horsemen won’t know what hit them. If we despatch some of our ships up to Sotona they can ferry down reinforcements from King Ethelred.”
Carl didn’t reply. He didn’t have much faith in the Saxon King though at least some of the Saxon earls were good generals. He had a lot of confidence in Althred.
As they made their plans, they were interrupted by Udris who had raced his own ship up the north shore of the Solanta from Porsea whilst the bulk of his fleet had kept pace with the rump of the Viking invasion force going north-west up the same inlet. Udris had taken some risk by separating from his fleet and he explained his actions.
“I got the message about Drustina’s wounds and the Viking’s going up the Solanta but I wasn’t sure what to do. I hope I’ve done right by departing Porsea and shadowing the Vikings. Several of their warships had a pop at me as I squeezed past their picket ships but I’ve made it here. I’m just so short of information, we’ll have to organise some sort of signal system. My forces were in the dark! If I’d known Drustina was attacking them so far out, I could have gone to her assistance from the north. I’m sorry I’ve been of so little use, communications are just too dammed poor.”
Althred nodded agreement.
“You’re right about signals, I didn’t know about Drustina’s first engagement until too late. Fortunately, her wounds are not fatal, but she’s been badly burned and scarred by fire.”
Udris cursed partly with frustration and partly with anger. After venting his feelings he bent to more practical matters.
“So what’s to be done?”
Carl nodded with satisfaction at Udris’s willingness to go into action.
“There are two things. Firstly you will have to close your ring with Hengis’s ships that left Cws Creek. We must keep the trap closed. Secondly, I’m going to ask you to ferry as many bowmen as you can to join Althred’s forces to the north of the Viking landing. It will mean keeping close to the north east shore of the Solanta and thus squeezing past the Viking picket ships, but the more men we can place in the forest, the more ambushes and surprises we can effect. Althred thinks the best way forward is a process of attrition. Harald’s only got a limited number of men and he will have hell’s own delight getting reinforcements past our ships. “
Udris paused thoughtfully.
“If I ferry any men to join Althred’s warriors it’ll mean splitting my fleet. I’ve only got three fast ships; those are the Viking ships that Drustina helped us capture long ago when Blueface was killed. They are getting a bit long in the tooth now.”
“We can lend you a couple of Althred’s ships. Now Harald has started landing his forces at Dibden he is committed. I am thinking of splitting my forces anyway. There’s no need to keep so many of Drustina’s ships up here in the Solanta. I can release several ships to help you with ferrying duties. Will that help?”
Udris nodded and they immediately commenced re-positioning their forces. Before evening, Udris had ferried some five hundred bowmen to reinforce Althred’s forces. Althred had taken control of the northern section of the allied ships and he was simultaneously organising the ambush platoons ashore whilst keeping tabs on Harald’s activities. He watched with satisfaction as Harald had concentrated his cavalry in anticipation of advancing up the west shore of the Solanta with a view to marshalling his forces for an advance on Winchester. Harald’s preoccupation with consolidating his forces at his easily won beach-head had given Althred time to deploy his forces throughout the forest during the summer night. He had the added advantage that each platoon contained a scout with detailed local knowledge of the forest. By the following morning Althred and Udris were satisfied they had prepared as best they could for the expected Viking onslaught.
In the meantime, Carl had not been idle.
After the salutary lessons provided by his floating trebuchet catamaran barge during Drustina’s first battle with the whole Viking armada, Carl had managed to reach Sotona where Ethelred’s main army was gathered. After some reluctance, Ethelred had released two old merchant ships and during the night, Carl and a couple of his ship’s crews had worked like Trojans to fashion another floating twin-hulled trebuchet. At noon the following day, it was towed down the Solanta and anchored within range of Harald’s invasion fleet. Althred and Udris stared askance at the seeming abortion but they were quickly enlightened of its formidability when the first salvo of stones was launched into the concentrated Viking ships.
Having already been exposed to the murderous barrage during the Battle with Drustina, the Viking fleet quickly descended into chaos as ships desperately started to move willy-nilly in their efforts to firstly avoid the trebuchet’s lethal bombardment. Once out of range the Viking ships then tried to attack the twin-hulled barge from another direction. Drustina’s men however were also well versed in this new kind of warfare and they resolutely defended Carl’s powerful but vulnerable weapon. The water at the beach head quickly became a killing ground for ships. By the evening of the second day the Viking fleet had been reduced to some thirty ships but even at this desperate stage, Harald was more preoccupied with organising his now safely landed but much reduced land forces.
Althred and Udris had debated sending an emissary to The Viking King Harald to possibly discuss terms but Carl had dismissed the idea. He explained that the Viking philosophy of always dying in battle was too deeply ingrained and that they would have no success. Despite Carl’s forebodings, an emissary was sent but when his decapitated head was returned, Althred and Udris ruefully conceded Carl’s point. It was to be a fight to the last man.
And so it was that the final stage of the Viking invasion was played out in the heart of the great forest. There was to be no great pitched battle with ranks of Vikings pitched against ranks of Saxons, no spectacular cavalry charges, no crash of shields or thunder of hooves.
Instead it was a silent deadly attrition that persisted for several days as deadly arrows whispered out of countless thickets and bushes where Viking after Viking met his lonely, un-witnessed end.
No matter how much the Viking horsemen thrashed about between thickets and copses their chances of wreaking revenge were almost nil. No sooner had they turned to attack the thicket where the arrow had been presumed to come from, when another arrow would strike another cavalryman from another thicket. Very quickly, the cavalry were reluctant to approach anywhere near any thickets or bushes; not for fear of death but for the certain knowledge that flushing out a single hidden bowman would probably cost them three or four horsemen. The figures just were not adding up.
After four days, Harald was compelled to concede that his invasion had failed. He could not even concentrate what few longships he had left and break out from the encircling allied fleet. Instead, he was compelled to retreat through the forest to a small creek called Bulah where he and his remaining men stole some fishing boats during the night and escaped to the south around Ynys Wit and home up the Britannia Channel back to his winter base in Yorvik.
The Saxons knew nothing of this. Such was the size and secrecy of the great forest and so stealthy the fighting, they had no idea what had happened to the Viking king. It was not until the frozen days of mid-winter that they finally received hard confirmation that Harald was back in Yorvik and that he had given up his hopes of defeating the Saxons in Wessex and the Mercians in Essex.
The Saxons did however realise quickly that they had won the battle that year even if they had not killed or captured the Viking king. Not one Viking ship had escaped the trap and the Saxons thus knew at least that there was no threat of another invasion until Harald could build another fleet. There would peace at least for two or even three years.
By the month of August, the Saxons were able to stand down their state of readiness and Drustina had learned she was pregnant. There could be only one father... the man who had raped her in The Havre. Harald, the Viking king!
Drustina knew with a sickening certainty that her pregnancy would cause her to fall foul of the ever increasing influence of the church in King Ethelred’s court. Firstly her child would be declared a bastard by the bishops and secondly, she was not prepared to reveal the father’s identity to the bishops or indeed any of Ethelred’s court because that would endanger her child as well as herself. It was known that Harald had no sons so if the baby she was carrying proved to be a boy; there was no knowing how its birth might be greeted.
She decided to say that she had been forced to lie with some unknown man in The Havre to trick some information out of him in the bed-chamber.
To avoid too many questions, Drustina decided to spend her recovery from her various burns and wounds in the relative peace and anonymity of Cws. She could use her recuperation as an excuse for avoiding the seemingly endless rounds of celebrations of the Saxon victory and she could avoid King Ethelred’s entreaties for her to attend his court. Drustina knew full well that after the first flush of celebration and congratulation, religious attention would come to bear on her druidic beliefs and unwedded pregnancy. She had long bitter experience of Christianity and its misogyny
She had also developed a good relationship with the healer in Cws for the woman had proven to be the epitome of tact and compassion, not to mention her very real skills with medicine.
Both Symone and Gisela had remarked that Drustina’s burns had healed remarkably well and they all put it down to the honey. They had also decided to continue accompanying Drustina for it was by her side they found the most safety. For Symone, it was the primordial revulsion of the rapes she had endured in Honfleur that persuaded her to keep close to one of the few swords she could
trust. For Gisela the common knowledge that she was Harald’s daughter was almost an open invitation for every Saxon or Celtic male to try his luck at assaulting her or raping her, or even murdering her. Gisela had learned to her bitter cost that her safest place was also at Drustina’s side. Naturally that realisation had also served to sweeten Gisela’s relationship with Drustina. She was beginning to see Drustina less and less as her jailer and more and more as her only trustworthy protector. Thus when Drustina chose to remain at length in Cws and absent herself from Ethelred’s court, the girls naturally chose also to stay in Cws. In that small community everybody at least knew that Drustina was the girls’ protector and provider. Thus the pair could live a reasonable existence where Drustina’s acknowledged authority ran true.
Some weeks after the defeat of the Vikings and after Drustina had several times tactfully refused to attend King Ethelred’s court, Drustina suddenly experienced an obvious sign of her now certain pregnancy. Up until then she had said nothing about her suspicions to anybody but on that fateful morning the healer had entered to find Drustina retching violently. The woman had immediately recognised the symptoms of ‘morning sickness’ and she gasped as she broached the subject.
“Are you with child mi-lady?”
Drustina nodded grimly and signed a caution for the woman to be silent. The two girls Symone and Gisela were just in the next room and Drustina did not want her condition spread abroad.
The healer immediately reduced her questions to an almost inaudible whisper.
“Who is the father?”
Drustina shrugged expressively thus implying that she didn’t know; though in fact she knew with absolute certainty. Already, Drustina was anticipating the problems that would almost certainly arise if and when Ethelred’s court learned of her condition... as they inevitable would. If she simply shrugged her response to the healer then her reply could be open to several interpretations. If the healer were called to give evidence and confirm Drustina’s pregnancy she could easily and legitimately say she misinterpreted Drustina’s reply. In any event neither Drustina nor the healer could not be called liars at any juncture when the bishops demanded to question either of them. As she knew they invariably would. Already this new one god faith was beginning to reduce women to the status of property ... baby-making property... belonging to men and serving no other purpose but to produce children. Drustina knew she would be hard put to avoid their stigmatisation even if she declared her pregnancy to be the consequence of rape.
Unfortunately this ‘rape’ defence was nullified in her case because everybody knew her to be a skilled warrior and well able to defend herself in the close quartered intimacy of rape. Drustina made her feelings known to the healer in no uncertain terms.
“Not a word of this until it is obvious I’m with child!”
“Would you not want to abort the thing; I mean if it was a rape ... well.”
“Definitely not! I am not a murderer!”
Murder was not the real excuse however. Drustina knew full well that the Father could only be Harald Cold Blood and since learning that Harald cold blood had no sons, only daughters. There might be some potential to use her baby as a bargaining counter if it turned out to be a boy and so far, she had only ever experienced ‘morning sickness’ when she had carried boys. The healer gently examined Drustina’s burns as she nodded and whispered her last observation about the pregnancy for several months.
“Very well ma-am, not a word. Now let’s see how your wounds are doing.”
Thus Drustina’s secret remained undetected until the ‘bump’ became obvious.
It was finally in the midwinter that Symone eventually realised her beloved protector was with child. At first she had mentioned her suspicions to Gisela and after the two had spent a couple of days studying Drustina’s seeming ponderousness, they eventually dared to approach her. Drustina was bent over rubbing her back as the two girls entered her chamber.
“Haven’t you girls learned to knock?!” Drustina scolded them.
Symone made an apology which fooled nobody then she asked outright.
“Your belly is swollen! Are you ill?”
“Of course I’m not bloody ill!” Drustina snapped back irritably.
“But you are in some discomfort are you not?” Gisela added. “What ails you?”
Drustina had decided she could hide her ‘bump’ no longer.
“I’m with child you idiots. Did your mothers teach you nothing?!”
Both girls gasped and started to squeal excitedly. So much so that the healer came running from her house in the Market square.
“Dammit! I thought you were aborting!” She cried. “Stop that stupid noise you silly girls! I thought mi-lady was losing her baby?”
Both Symone and Gisela stared at the medicine woman then chorused in surprised union.
“How long have you known mi-lady’s been with child?”
“Long e-bloody-nough!” Drustina cursed. “Now go and prepare lunch. It’s about time you silly bitches earned your keep! And don’t go shouting about it around Cws. They’ll realise soon enough!”
Symone stepped forward and peered at the bump.
“You can’t hide that anymore. Every woman in the town will know!”
“So; what’s it to them?” Drustina snapped again.
“You know they’ll gossip then it will reach King Ethelred and he is bound to summon you to his court.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Now go and make lunch! Do something useful for once!”
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 Old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 69 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Drustina receives a summons to attend King Ethelred's court to resolve some issues concerning her pregnancy. She keeps her baby's paternity a secret to avoid any complications concerning the baby's potential rights to claim the Viking throne. Later she discovers her love for Carl and agreement to marry wins her some unexpected bonuses in her quest to regain her queendom of Lleyn.
The Angry Mermaid 79
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 79.
Just as Symone and Gisela had predicted, the news of Drustina’s pregnancy quickly spread the length and breadth of King Ethelred’s Wessex and the inevitable summons to attend Ethelred’s court soon arrived from Winchester.
The messenger arrived un-announced one winter’s morning and demanded to see the Lioness.
Symone met the man and his entourage at the door of Drustina’s residence and naturally reached out to receive the missive. The man stared down haughtily from his horse and arrogantly withheld the scroll out of reach.
“It is for me to read out the order myself! This is business well above the station of a common girl.”
The man’s dress had already alerted Symone to his clerical status so she shrugged then remarked.
“Then you can sit up there all day and freeze to death tonight. No mere man enters the Lioness’s quarters un-invited. “
The man stared down bristling with indignation that a mere slip of a girl should be so audacious as to treat him with such disdain.
“Do you realise who I am girl?”
“No; and until I see what’s in that missive, I never will know. All I do know is that any stranger that imposes themselves upon the Lioness’s privacy is asking to receive short thrift.”
The holy man was not bearing arms although his accompanists were. He realised they would be loath to assault a girl who was obviously connected to the woman they had been despatched to accompany back to Ethelred’s court. He tried another tack.
“Can you read girl?”
It was Symone’s turn to bristle angrily for during Drustina’s pregnancy, the Lioness had taught both Symone and Gisela Latin letters. After a few months of intense tuition, both girls had become proficient. Symone’s eyes blazed angrily at the messenger’s question. She snapped back.
“Of course I can read!”
The messenger was now a little perplexed and for want of making any further progress with the obstinate girl he unrolled the parchment and started reading aloud.
“His Majesty King Ethelred of Wessex requests the lady known as Drustina, the Lioness of Carthage, to attend forthwith at the King’s court on or before the last day of month after the Midwinter Solstice. It is reported that the Lady Drustina is with child and that the father of that child is unknown. Bearing that the Lady Drustina is a de-facto noble of the realm of Wessex by dint of her as-yet unrewarded success in defeating the Viking invasion, it is a matter of the utmost urgency that the ensuing child is legitimised and consequently ennobled by marriage of the mother to a noble officer of the King’s court. This legal union is expected to be ordained in the high church of Winchester and acknowledged by King Ethelred before the parturition of the child from its mother.
Signed this day;
Ethelred, King.”
Having read out the document, the messenger then handed the parchment down to Symone who promptly snatched it from his grasp and disappeared inside. The messenger and his entourage were left wondering what to do. Inside her residence Drustina studied the letter and pursed her lips as Symone and Gisela demanded to have her explain the implications. Drustina explained.
“It seems according to this pious bigot of a king, my pedigree is not sufficient to ensure my baby’s entitlements.”
“What d’you mean?” Gisela pressed.
“Apparently the baby has to be ‘legitimised’ by taking its father’s name.”
“And you don’t know who the father is ...”
“Correct.” Drustina lied as she mused at what unseemly fate might befall her baby if anybody ever learned the truth.
“So what do you intend to do?” Symone asked.
Drustina paused.
“Me? For the moment nothing. Whatever I do I absolutely refuse to marry one of Ethelred’s Christianised earls. That would reduce me to the status of a Christian wife, a chattel; little more than a servant of some stupid Christian oaf. A piece of property to be bound by his will and forced to abide by his command.”
“And — that — you — would - never — do!” Gisela enunciated slowly and deliberately.
Drustina nodded her affirmation as she explained.
“Have you seen the wording of these Christian’s marriage contracts?”
“No.” Both girls chorused.
“Well it’s a contract into slavery. I would lose everything I hold precious, my freedom, my royal status, my entitlements and privileges in a dozen different realms from here to Antium. Worse still, I would forfeit all my personal property to my husband; I would even lose ownership of Seripatese. The whole idea is a non-starter.”
“What about your older children, Morgan and Amethyst?” Symone wondered.
Drustina’s jaw clenched as Symone’s observation struck deep.
“By the gods! You’re right. According to these pious bigots, my other children would be deemed illegitimate unless I declare their parentage as well!”
“So what d’you intend to do?” Symone continued.
Drustina frowned.
“For the moment, nothing, they have me at their mercy. I am heavy with my child and I will not risk my baby’s life by sword-play. Besides, my men are all up in Sotona and Winchester reinforcing the city walls and defences. My ships are alongside in Porsea and Sotona except for The Angry Mermaid who is here in Cws.
“So how are you going to deal with this summons?” Gisela pressed. “Who the hell does this King Ethelred think he is? He doesn’t own you or your body!”
Drustina cursed silently.
“He seems to think he does and for the moment, there is little I can do. I certainly can’t fight with this big belly slowing me down, so I suppose I’ll have to go to Winchester.”
“You could send word that you are too far gone with child and it might be dangerous to travel.” Symone suggested.
“That would ensure that my child would be declared a bastard and they’d probably try and have me declared a harlot or some such evil. It would give them too much license to act against me, at least by their misogynistic laws.”
“Why should they want to act against you?” Gisela asked.
“My independent status is too much of a threat to their fragile Christian laws. I’ve been here before remember. During the wars against Magab’s brother there was a Carthaginian bishop called Alviar, he tried to have me burned as a witch because my duality threatened his fixed preachings about the places of men and women in his religion. Women were firmly placed below men. This is precisely where these Saxon priests are coming from now. I suspect they’re hoping no man will wish to marry me because of my duality and then they will have me charged with being some sort of monster or witch. I would be willing to bet that they will even accord my military victories to some sort of witch-craft; it’s exactly how they work their evil. It’s exactly what Alviar tried.
These priests acquire power by threats and fear of the unknown. That power gains them wealth by selling indulgences and suchlike. Superstition is a powerful weapon, that, and fear of the after-life.”
“So why don’t you marry Carl.” Symone asked. “We all know you’ve declared your love for him.”
“As far as I know, Carl isn’t an Earl or a noble. He was the son of a yeoman farmer back in Saxony”
“Well he damned well should be ennobled!” Gisela cursed. “He continued the fight after you got burnt and he was also scarred by the fire. It was down to him that my father was defeated.”
Drustina was mildly surprised that Gisela should seem pleased about her father’s defeat.
“Are you happy your father was defeated!?”
Gisela’s face darkened noticeably before she muttered darkly.
“Now; yes. My mother only gave him daughters and he cast her out claiming she was bewitched. She died from a broken heart. He had a string of so-called wives after that but none of them gave him a son. He didn’t treat me well either, casting me out because I worship Sappho. I’m glad Carl sent him packing, it’s a pity you weren’t there to share his glory.
“I think Udris and Althred might have something to say about that.” Drustina sighed. “They had as much a part to play in that final act.”
Drustina fell to musing on what might have been then remarked.
“I suppose I could get married to Carl, I do love him and Wessex owes him at least an earldom. Come on, I suppose I’d better tell these stupid messengers that I will attend the king’s court.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise until you’ve asked Carl about it,” Symone added. If you arrived in Winchester and he refused to wed you, what would you do?”
Drustina paused thoughtfully. ‘Symone had a point. Her beauty was reduced thanks to the burn scars and she knew men laid great store by a woman’s looks. But then,’ she thought further, ‘so was Carl scarred’.
She decided to write him a letter and test his feelings first. Within minutes, the letter was written and added to her written reply to the King’s summons. The Messenger now had two letters to despatch. To make sure Carl got the letter, Symone offered to accompany the letter. Drustina concluded it was safe for Symone to join the messenger’s party and she watched as the Gaulish girl boarded the Saxon ship with her own horse to continue onwards to Winchester.
Six days later Symone returned with no less a person than Carl himself. Drustina’s tummy flipped with excitement as she met him at the quay side. The burns to his right side were even worse than Drustina’s scars. She stood hesitantly for several seconds before extending nervous fingers to gently trace the dreadful burns to the side of his head.
“Does it hurt?” She whispered.
“A bit, do yours?”
“Sometimes. I have to sleep on my right side if it’s bad. The scars get tight sometimes and it’s hard to twist my neck.”
Carl nodded.
“Same with me but I sleep on my left side. We’ll be a pair well matched when we share our marriage bed. You are lucky; your beauty is not lost.”
“My left ear is burned.”
“But your beautiful hair easily covers that. You are still a beautiful woman Dru. Turn sideways.”
Drustina tensed slightly then turned slowly so as not to disturb her carefully positioned hair. It was still not grown fully enough to cover the ear and she had combed the hair from the right-hand-side to hide the melted gristle. Carl gently eased the hair away and bent down to kiss her burns then his arms encircled her. Drustina flinched at first then virtually fell into his embrace as tears burst forth. Carl’s embrace tightened.
“Hey dear lady, I love you as no other can. We have served together, lived together, fought together and hopefully we’ll die together, some time a long way from here and now.”
He licked the salty tears from her cheeks and somehow, this gentle act seemed to convey infinitely more than a kiss. Eventually her tears stopped and their lips finally met. As she grasped his head tight to hers, her fingers played along the scarred serrations on his cheekbone. This to her seemed a greater act of intimacy even than bedding him. For in those scars lay Carl’s deepest hurt, Carl’s deepest fears that women would always reject him for the ugliness the scars had left. Her fingers strayed from his scarred cheek to his missing ear and she gently rested her palm against the ear hole as she pressed her lips even harder to his. He winced slightly as he felt her fingering the lank hair that he used exactly as she had ... to hide the disfigurement; though in Carl’s case nothing could hide the scarred cheek save a full ‘shaggy-dog’ cascade of hair over his right cheek. There was no need for words; each of them fully knew the issues that beset them; the shocked looks and averted eyes when others first met them. This mutual realisation caused their embrace to tighten further, words were superfluous.
Eventually they were disturbed by Symone appearing with some food for she and Carl had eaten very little since leaving Winchester a day and a half before.
“When are we returning to Winchester?” She asked; mainly to alert the pair to her presence but also to prepare for the journey.
“Tomorrow,” Carl replied. “We’ve only got four days before the deadline.”
“Why d’you have to meet Ethelred’s deadline? Why don’t you just send a secret message to your companions and just sail away taking your whole fleet and army with you?”
Drustina smiled then sighed.
“Three things young lady; firstly it’s mid winter and the seas are too rough for me in this condition. I could lose my baby.
Secondly, I don’t want to go through child-birth at sea, I know what parturition involves young lady and I want my healer on hand when my time comes. She’s the best I’ve ever met.
Thirdly, Carl tells me my men are scattered between Sotona and Winchester doing essential work on defences to the towns. It would take a couple of weeks to muster them all and Ethelred might take umbrage. At the moment we are allies and I want to keep it that way.”
They settled down to eat and shortly, Gisela appeared. She had been down in the market place when Carl and Symone had arrived. They talked at length about Ethelred’s summons but Drustina was adamant. She would marry Carl in the great Winchester church and shut the bigoted Christian bishops up once and for all. Her announcements elicited gasps of disapproval from the girls and a puzzled frown from Carl. He asked her.
“Why can’t we get married here in Cws? There’s a lovely little church with a beautiful Yew tree in the graveyard.”
“Why a yew tree Carl?” Drustina asked provocatively.
He hesitated uncertainly.
“Oh; it’s uuuuhhm traditional, well it is amongst Saxons; the yew tree represents longevity. They last for hundreds or even thousands of years.”
“That’s funny; we Celts have the same tradition but we take the oak to represent longevity. Is there an oak in the church-yard?”
“Dunno. I haven’t looked.”
“But you knew about the Yew tree. How.”
Carl went red and stared at the floor.
“All these new Christian churches get built on old religious sites. There’s always a yew tree.”
“Not always. Come on, own up, how did you know?”
Still crimsoning with embarrassment, Carl mumbled.
“I noticed last time I was here.”
“Oh. Thinking of marriage then were you? That was what, two months ago?”
“Nearer three, and no, I wasn’t thinking of marriage. I was regretting all that stuff if you must know. I was just wondering who’d want an ugly scarred old monster like me and the Yew tree seemed to be somehow mocking me. There were ribbons and offerings on the branches from some recent wedding and it just seemed too bitter a pill to swallow. I was almost tempted to cut the bloody thing down.”
“You’d have made a lot of enemies if you had.”
He nodded ruefully then replied.
“Good job I didn’t. We could get married there today and show the bigots in Winchester, your garland and ring.”
“Ring, don’t tell me you’re brought a ring, you are a schemer aren’t you!”
“No, I haven’t got a ring; we’d have to find one around here.”
“Not in Cws you won’t, everything was stolen by the Viking raids. Why do we need a ring anyway? That’s a Christian custom. If you want a ring, you’ll have to go to Winchester, there isn’t a goldsmith between here and there.”
Carl shrugged.
“I suppose we might as well go to Winchester then; though I don’t fancy submitting to that pious old wimp King Ethelred and his bloody bishops. Anyway, I don’t have enough money to buy a ring, well a gold one anyway, and what if there’s no gold in Winchester anyway. They say the silly coot has donated hoards of wealth to building this new church. He’s taxed everybody into poverty and all the bloody gold goes to pay for this bloody church. It’s a huge building. The only place you’ll find gold throughout the whole of Wessex is under the Bishop’s bloody bed.”
Drustina became angry.
“Are you telling me that he hasn’t rewarded you either? After all we did to save his kingdom!”
“He says he’s got no money. He used it all to pay for his own army and ships.”
“You mean he’s spent it all to try and buy his way into heaven.”
“That sounds likely, everybody has their price. Ethelred’s is this bloody great church he’s building. Wait until you see it.”
“Okay. Winchester it is but when we get there, you can tell Ethelred that I’m not getting married until we can sort out a ring.”
Carl frowned uncertainly.
“That could take days, weeks. His summons said the first month after the Solstice.”
“Well he’ll just have to wait. Pregnant women can be contrary creatures and I’ll lay it on thick, especially with the bishops.”
Carl smiled knowingly.
“You’ve got an ulterior motive haven’t you? Go on, explain.”
“If you must know, the only weapon ordinary women have against this monstrous one male god thing is the ability to create life. Even their supposedly all powerful god needed a woman to produce their prophet. Why wasn’t this supposedly all holy, Christ, prophet thingy created from dust like Adam. If their God did it once, why couldn’t he have done it a second time?
Anyway, we’re getting off the subject.
I’m going to use my pregnancy and birthing to drive home the point that women are absolutely vital to their very survival. Without women, they can’t exist! That makes women holier than men because only women can create life. By their own stupid stories it took a woman to create their prophet.”
“They say it’s the man’s seed that creates the life.” Carl replied provocatively
“So how come half the babies are women? Are you half woman?”
“Only you could answer that Dru. You are truly half and half.”
“Yes! I am, and that’s how I intend to stymie their bigoted prejudices towards women. The old beliefs respected women and acknowledged their vital role. This new faith is poison towards women. My duality gives me both views concerning the part of women and the part of men. I can tell them bluntly that they are wrong!”
Carl shrugged and grinned.
“Good luck Dru. You know what you’re up against. This Winchester bishop is as pig-headed and bigoted as Alviar was in Carthage.”
“Don’t remind me of him.” Drustina replied darkly as she took her leave and prepared for her bed.
~~ooo000ooo~~
The following morning they left early and the Angry Mermaid made easy work of the short passage. Drustina left the ship handling to Carl and her crew as she huddled in the bow-cuddy bundled up against the bitter cold. She simply peered out at the frozen shores as the icy wind drove the Mermaid up the Solanta to the busy port of Solanta. On arrival Drustina simply clutched her personal bag and watched as Carl, her sister Tara and her other companions saddled the horses and loaded the pack horses in preparation for the slow journey through the deep snow. Because Drustina was preoccupied with the now debilitating bump growing in her womb, Tara took Symone and Gisela under her wing in addition to Morgan and Amethyst, Drustina’s older twins. Carl assisted Drustina in mounting her beloved little mare Seripatese and eventually the party was ready to leave.
Whilst they had been saddling up, many recognisable faces appeared. On learning she had arrived in Sotona, many of Drustina’s warrior companions had downed their tools and stepped up to pay their respects by welcoming her to Wessex. When her followers realised that she was at last going to pay call on King Ethelred, most of her warriors decided to forgo their work and accompany their beloved leader to Winchester. The mood amongst them was celebratory when they learned she was at long last going to marry her popular lieutenant Carl. The feeling amongst the troops was that...
‘No leader of theirs was going to turn up at a king’s court without a proper escort as befitted her station.’
Despite it only being a score of miles it took a full two days for the heavily pregnant Drustina to struggle through the snow-drifts to reach Winchester. In that brief time, word had spread like wildfire amongst her followers and by the time she appeared at Winchester city walls, she had nearly five hundred men at her back. For a moment the city guard panicked and raised the alarm until Carl reassured them that the army at the lady’s back was simply her companions come to wish her well and celebrate their wedding. Eventually, Drustina, Carl and her immediate coterie of personal companions were allowed entry and invited to be guests of King Ethelred. Albeit by a nervous and reluctant king.
Ever mindful of her troops, Drustina refused to dismount and meet the king until her men were accommodated and protected from the bitter January nights. When this was done she held out her arms and Carl helped her off her mare. He grinned as he lowered her to the ground.
“By the gods Dru, he’s going to be a bonny baby. You weigh a ton!”
“Thanks Carl, just what a girl wants to hear.”
She reached up to lift her bag off the pommel frame and struggled to raise it clear. Carl saw her plight and reached over her shoulder to help her. When he hoisted the bag clear he was surprised at the weight.
“My god Dru, what the hell have you got in here?”
Drustina snatched the bag from his hand and snapped.
“Never you mind. You know never to look through a girl’s bag!”
Carl grinned and shrugged.
“Don’t tell me you’ve brought presents for that pious old fart. They’ll all end up in that grasping bishop’s pocket before the month is out.”
“No. I haven’t brought presents. There just a few essentials.”
“No hidden weapons I hope.”
“No. I bear my weapons openly just as you do, though much good they would do me with this bloody bump. Come on let’s go and meet this religious old coot!”
The pair were led through a short corridor to the king’s great hall while the rest of the party were directed to the guest apartments. Immediately Carl and Drustina entered the hall they spied the king in conversation with a man in lavish clerical gowns. Obviously he was the notorious bishop to whom the king seemed to pay inordinate attention. Without hesitation Drustina strode boldly up to the great throne with every intention of introducing herself. To her surprise two pikes-men crossed their pikes in front of her, clearly barring her advance. Drustina stopped and waited until the bishop turned to address her.
“It is customary to await the king’s pleasure before you approach.”
“It is customary to show respect to a queen holy-man and it is not customary to insult a guest.”
“You are not a guest! You were summoned by the king!”
Drustina’s eyes flashed with anger as she reached into her bag and brandished the letter she had received from Ethelred and seemingly written in his own had.
“This letter REQUESTS my attendance, it was no summons and besides, nobody summonses the Lioness of Carthage, I am a queen in my own right!”
So saying, she flung the letter at the feet of Ethelred and challenged him.
“Tell me that is your writing and your letter, otherwise I shall deem it a forgery!”
The bishop gasped as Ethelred bent to scoop up the letter.
“Your majesty, she has insulted you. You do not stoop to receive offerings!”
Drustina scoffed.
“I’ll bet he kneels to receive your worthless blessings!”
“How dare you insult the king!”
“How dare he insult me. I have travelled nearly two days through snow a yard deep and he has yet to address me or welcome me.
What sort of royal welcome is this? Especially to those who saved his kingdom.”
Drustina turned to the bishop and waved her hand dismissively.
“Leave us holy man. I will speak with the king not his satrap!”
“How dare you! I...”
“You’ll what? Put a spell on me or something. I’m not one of your superstitious sheep from your compliant flock of ignoramuses. You had best watch your step. Now leave!”
The bishop let out a gasp of rage as Drustina’s effrontery completely derailed his strategy. Even the two pike-men blinked and momentarily and slackened their grips on their pikes as Drustina turned again to address Ethelred before he or the bishop could regain the initiative.
“Well; your majesty, is it your custom to allow your guests to be insulted by your lackeys? Am I to receive no proper welcome?”
Ethelred shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he glanced towards his bishop. He had somehow arrived at the belief that the woman before him would be a compliant, frightened ‘victim’. A woman like most other Christian women, servile, submissive and afraid. His belief had been inculcated by the bishop’s repeated intimations and insinuations of women’s spiritual and moral inferiority. The bishop could see uncertainty creeping into Ethelred’s demeanour and he drew breath to speak. Before he could speak, Drustina turned on him.
“Are you still here?”
The bishop fumed and snapped angrily.
“You are behaving way above your station woman!”
“Which is?”
“It is not for you to question me! You do not question your spiritual guide! Know your place, you...
Before he could launch into his rant, Drustina interrupted softly.
“How can I be guided to my place, as you put it, if I don’t ask?”
The bishop’s impending tirade was stopped in its tracks by this simple question. The logic of her inquisition was cruel. It left
the bishop mouthing wordlessly and Drustina returned her gaze to Ethelred.
“Your majesty, you have to understand I am a queen in my own right. I expect to treat with my equals, not some bigoted, myopic bully. This holy man is the only man who has spoken so far. Why have you said nothing as yet; not even a word of welcome?”
Once again Ethelred shifted uncertainly and Drustina realised the man was almost entirely in thrall to the bishop. Fortunately, Drustina had recognised several of the Saxon Earls who had fought alongside her or at least fought in other theatres during the war to stop the Viking advance into Wessex and the South of Britannia. Notably she had espied Althred slipping into the great hall and secretly signal his support for her. It was apparent that the Saxon earls were tired of the Bishop’s dominion especially as his efforts to dominate the king had almost cost the Saxons their kingdom. She turned again to the Bishop.
“If you won’t leave us to treat privately, I will leave. If you try to stop me I will call upon my own supporters and others who have come to respect me through our successful despatch of the Viking threat. For the last time are you going to leave us?”
This time there was a murmur of agreement that rippled around the hall and the Bishop quickly sensed it. He huffed impotently and bowed to the king before stalking angrily through a side door to the newly built great church. A building that hugely surpassed the king’s modest palace in grandeur and presence.
Drustina turned again to address the king but after her first words, she realised she might as well have been addressing a statue. Without the Bishop to prompt him it was as if he had no mind of his own. It quickly became apparent that she would do better to address the earls whom she had already sensed were sick and tired of the Bishop’s pretensions and the consequent inordinate tax burden on their lands and incomes to pay for the grotesquely oversized church. Quickly she laid her cards upon the table and explained.
“Gentlemen, many of you already know that I am not a Christian though I have seen and learned more of Christianity than any man present. My companion Carl can vouch for that for he has travelled through much of the holy lands with me but by no means all. In those travels I have met both good and bad bishops, some cruel, some greedy, some honest, some compassionate but all were men. None were women. From my perspective, this is a serious shortcoming but worse than this is the view that this faith seems to have of women. It seems to hold the view that women are lesser mortals, less spiritual, less righteous and therefore less holy. Is this a view that you Saxon’s hold?”
There was a confused murmur of uncertainty around the hall and Drustina sensed she had resurrected old feelings of doubt and antipathy about the new faith for it had not yet gained an entrenched position throughout Wessex. Despite Ethelred’s ‘conversion’ there was still some resistance in communities where Saxon women still held status and nobility in their own right through the old beliefs. Beliefs that based their existence on the inexplicable miracles of life and the unique ability of women to produce it in their bellies. This single circumstance alone had always endowed women with a high value and consequent high status. Women held lands and estates in their own right and when they married, the retained the title to their lands, only releasing it to their husbands or children after death. If there were no sons, their lands went to their daughters upon the mother’s passing. In communities that had recently turned to the new Christian faith there had been much unrest and discontent when the incoming priests had tried by dint of literacy and paper to disenfranchise the women from their land entitlements, inheritance rights and consequent status. The passing of lands down to daughters if no sons had issued from a marriage, ensured that a Saxon’s children were assured of their inheritance and survival by dint of holding on to the family lands. The rule of Primo genitor did not exist until the Christian church arrived and even then it was resisted tooth and nail by many Saxon men as well as women. Inheritance rights were easier to protect and enforce if all children enjoyed equal inheritance rights. Additionally, sibling rivalry was reduced at a time when fratricide and sororicide were common.
All these issues and the contradiction thereof fostered by the new faith had served to create much unrest and discontent. Of late however, the Viking threat had in some part served to suppress the grumblings of discontent because of the necessity to unite in the face of the greater Viking danger. Now that the Viking threat had been negated largely by Drustina’s efforts, the other issues had resurfaced and the Bishop had been too pre-occupied with his grandiose church to notice their re-emergence. Drustina had inadvertently unearthed them whilst simultaneously and unwittingly creating a rallying point for the dissatisfied earls. Despite all this however the earls were also keen to see Drustina properly married because even in their old pagan traditions, marriage was a vital mechanism for ensuring inheritance and title rights for all that had titles and or land. Consequently, If Drustina wanted to win the total support of the earls, she would have to legitimise her forthcoming child and preferably before its birth.
After the Bishop had left in a sulk and Drustina had realised the king was too pre-occupied with his newfound faith to attend to the proper management of his kingdom, Drustina quickly realised that it was to the earls she would have to turn to further her ambitions to win back her beloved Lleyn. It was only when she addressed them that the marriage issue was explained to her. It was Althred who enlightened her and further explained the issue.
“So you see Dru, you had best get married if your child is to be rightfully ennobled and we all heartily concur with your choice of husband. Carl would be an eminently suitable partner and totally acceptable to we earls. In this issue, the king’s letter to you is correct in the old pagan customs and the new Christian canon law.”
“Is there a Yew tree and Oak and Ash trees in the new church yard?”
“There is, and there is also a Rowan so Celtic, Saxon and even Mercian rites will be honoured.”
“Mercian? What have the Mercians to do with our marriage?” Carl asked.
“We are forging tighter alliances with the Mercians now that the Viking threat is gone from Wessex and the south of Britannia. The Mercians have a border with the Vikings along the river Don. The Viking threat is still very real and they desperately wish to forge a strong alliance with us to deter the Vikings from their constant incursions south. Your future wife, ‘The Lioness of Carthage’, no less, is seen as a veritable chess-queen in any future battles with the Vikings and I think we can all agree, they’ll be back.”
Carl turned to Drustina who nodded resignedly.
“I’m afraid they will Carl. A Saxon treaty with the Mercians would be a sound move.” She turned then to the Earls. “But why must my wedding to Carl satisfy Mercian customs? I am Celt, he is Saxon surely our mutually agreed marriage is all that’s required.”
At this juncture Ethelred eventually found his voice.
“I’m afraid Lioness, we have already anticipated your marriage to Carl. It was the basis of your Marriage to Carl that persuaded the Mercians that we Saxons would make reliable allies to face the Vikings.”
Drustina wagged her head uncomprehendingly.
“Why on earth is that? Who am I to them? I’ve never even met a Mercian, well not knowingly anyway. What store do they hold by me?”
The king hesitated and looked abjectly towards his earls. Slowly he admitted the reason.
“Even before your defeat of the Vikings at Ynys Wit your exploits in rescuing the Friesian Queen Dalcimon’s Kingdom, your defeat of the Viking Fleet at the Godwin Sands and numerous other sagas had preceded you to Mercian ears. Your exploits are Legend my lady your fame is spread far. The Mercians held my military virtues to be nothing and this ineptitude was falsely translated to my earls. Then you turn up with your lifelong grudge towards the Vikings and you enable my earls to defeat the Vikings by dint of your battle expertise and boundless courage.
Your exploits on our behalf have been well noted by the Mercians and they now see us Saxons as worthy allies in their fight against the Vikings. It is you who has enabled this new mutual respect between Saxons and Mercians and it is therefore you who the Mercians would see properly ennobled and allied to us and them. Possibly even as a commander of our joint forces.”
Drustina was silently stunned at this priceless offer. Her mind raced as she contemplated having a huge Saxon-Mercian army at her back to chase the Vikings all the way home to Norway, or at least drive them out of Yorvik and bottle them up in Durham or someplace even further north, where they could never again threaten the peace of Britannia without first marching many miles south through hostile lands. Then she had a disturbing thought. She was Celtic. She voiced her thought.
“Your majesty, before you make such a tempting offer, I must remind you, I am a Celt. We Celts have issues with the Saxons and the Mercians for we have been driven far into the barren mountainous parts of Britannia by Saxon, Mercian, Dane and Viking. I myself was driven from my homeland on the far west of Cambria by the Vikings only a dozen years ago. Before I treat with yourselves and the Mercians, I would first ensure I am to recover my homeland and live out my days in peace if we finally defeat the Vikings.”
The King cast around his court of earls and a murmur of assent gave Drustina hope. He turned to her.
“I am told your land is called Lleyn, the northern peninsular of Western Cambria. It is a small land is it not?”
“Yes, tiny indeed,” Drustina confirmed, “but Cambria is also the land of the Brithonic Celts, I would be false to the rest of my people if I did not ensure the establishment and continuance of a secure and mutually agreed border for my own people, the Celts.”
Ethelred nodded slowly and Drustina relaxed.
‘'He might be a pious wimp, but at least he recognises other’s rights.' She mused. Ethelred then answered.
“I would have to treat with the Mercians because they touch upon Cambria at the great Roman fortress of Deva. They must also agree to a mutual border.”
“If they don’t your majesty, then the deal’s off.”
“That I recognise.” Ethelred agreed. “Now, if you have no more objections, might we make preparations for your marriage to Carl, this has to be a state occasion and the Mercians would truly wish to bear witness.”
Drustina smiled. She had moved forward hugely in her ambitions to recover her homeland and her marriage to Carl was what she had wanted for longer than she was prepared to admit... to anybody, including herself. She left the great hall with a joyous heart as Ethelred’s sister appeared to take her to the royal chambers to prepare for the feats celebrating Drustina’s arrival. As they left the great hall to the men, Drustina asked the royal Princess.
“Where’s Ethelred’s wife, the queen?”
“My brother is not married. He’s been hankering to marry the Mercian King’s sister who is a great beauty. If he does, he will unite the two nations and the Angles will then join our cause in fighting the Vikings.”
Drustina grinned as she silently considered the affairs of state that hung on royal marriages, not least her marriage to Carl.
That evening she arrived to join the feast only to find a depressed mood throughout the hall. She had been expecting a mood of celebration.
“So what’s wrong now?” She asked Ethelred.
“The bishop is what’s wrong. He is refusing to marry you unless your convert to Christianity.”
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Bishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst..... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 69 The Viking King, father of Gisela
By a happy accident, the Pope's envoy to Consecrate the Saxon great Church in Winchester turns out to be Cardinal Craklow, the once Archbishop of Warsaw. Drustina cunningly uses her Pagan circumstances and faith to persuade King Ethelred to allow her to approach the cardinal on her own behalf instead of getting the King to advocate for her. The Cardinal's ship delayed because it is dis-masted by a big wave. Drustina is fortuitously on hand with The Angry Mermaid and she get's the Cardinal out of a jam. He is delighted to meet her again after her efforts in Pola.
The Angry mermaid 80
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 80.
For several seconds, Drustina sat in thoughtful silence but she sensed a mood of anger begin to grow amongst the earls. She felt she had to calm them or the bishop could well be injured or worse. She shrugged her shoulders and asked the king.
“Surely there is another holy man, one who is less bigoted, one who still recognises the good elements of the old faith.”
“It has to be a state occasion, the Mercians are attending. King Edrinor and his queen and his daughter Princess Sonala will be attending. I was going to formally ask her if she would wed me. At that level, the highest churchman in the land has to officiate. The church is to be consecrated next month and the Pope is sending his representative from Rome. We cannot have the embarrassment of him attending the consecration with a religious row brewing over conflicts between Pagans and Christians. My Earls are already growing restless.”
“What; about me being a pagan?” Drustina asked.
“No, the bishop. The earls think he is getting above his station.”
Drustina pursed her lips.
“If you don’t mind me saying so; so do I.”
“He is God’s representative, we cannot go against him. If Celyn goes to the pope’s emissary there is no knowing what may happen. I might even be excommunicated,”
“Celdyn, is that his name? it’s the first time I’ve heard it. Everybody just calls him ‘The Bishop’. So what does this thing ‘ex-communication’ mean? Here in Wessex anyway.”
“It means we will be cast out of the church and destined for the fires of hell... for all eternity.”
“Fires of hell? What about the homes of the gods? Where warriors normally go.”
“No, in the Christian faith there is Heaven and Hell. Heaven is for good people and Hell is for the bad.”
“But we all have good and bad in us, what happens when we die? Does this one god split up our souls, half to Heaven and half to Hell. If you ask me it’s rubbish.”
Ethelred glanced nervously about him.
“Please don’t say that.”
Drustina could see the man was plainly afraid; afraid of the unknown. Drustina became a little contemptuous of Ethelred’s fear of sprits and religious mumbo-jumbo. She had often known fear of the unknown for she had suffered it countless times. Hers however was a very real and natural fear of dying that came to her on the eve of every battle. She even had to overcome her own fears when encouraging her soldiers before facing the foe. On other occasions she had to stand alone and face some unknown threat. Only her hopes that if she died bravely and honourably, she would be rewarded in the afterlife, had served to help her face the unknowns.
She could only hope that the gods would welcome her both as a warrior for her male side and a mother for her female side. After all she had no way of knowing if her own gods would approve of her duality.
‘If ever there was an unknown about the afterlife,’ she concluded ‘there was no greater unknown that how the gods would treat her, warrior or mother. Now there was an unknown to conjure with!’ She concluded.
She realised that if she dwelt any further on Ethelred’s fears, she might expose her disgust at his seeming cowardice and then she would certainly offend him. To avoid such a diplomatic disaster she quickly changed the subject.
“When are the Mercians coming?”
“When you get married to Carl, after that they will stay for the consecration of the church. The Pope’s emissary is expected to make it the Cathedral Church of Wessex. He is an arch-bishop, a cardinal, a prince of the church.
“When’s he coming?”
“The second month after the Solstice.”
Drustina did some mental calculations and realised her Baby was not due until a few weeks after the arch-bishop arrived. She would be great with child but the baby could still be born in wedlock. She asked the king.
“Why can’t the arch-bishop marry us? Not all holy men are as bigoted as Celyn.”
“He might refuse; I can’t take the risk. Cardinal Craklow is an unknown entity. I can’t risk offending him.”
Drustina did a double take and she also noticed Carl react momentarily before he recovered his impassive expression. She asked further.
“Where’s this Cardinal Craklow from?”
Ethelred frowned.
“I’m not sure, Polanda I think."
Drustina probed further and she struggled to appear calm as her pulse quickened with excited hope.
“Was he once Archbishop of Warsaw?” She asked.
Ethelred frowned for he did not know but he knew a man who did. Celyn! He replied to this effect.
“I don’t know where this Craklow hails from but I’ll bet Celyn does. Why do you want to know?”
Drustina shrugged but she was already considering a plan. Her thoughts raced to create a plausible reason for her wanting to know where Cardinal Craklow came from though in her mind she was already sure he was the Archbishop who had exonerated Sister Catherine and all her nuns for the enforced acts of piracy they had committed back in Danzig. If this was the same man, Drustina felt sure she was home and dry. She asked the king to find out and the king agreed. Fortunately he did not think to ask Drustina why. Nor did Celyn wonder for Ethelred simply brought it up in conversation the next day.
When Ethelred confirmed it was the same Craklow Drustina secretly hugged herself as Carl’s arms similarly squeezed her shoulders. She played her cards carefully but with confidence.
“I will demand then that Cardinal Craklow marries us.”
“You cannot do that!” Ethelred gasped.
“Why not?”
“He is a Cardinal, a prince of the holy church! He does not bother himself with pagan warriors and such like!”
“How do you know?” Drustina persisted.
Ethelred became flustered as he huffed and puffed.
“It is not your place to ask him. He is here to consecrate the new church.”
“But he’ll be staying here until the Spring. In fact I am surprised he is travelling here during the winter.”
“He was supposed to arrive three months before the Solstice but the Viking invasion caused him to delay his journey. He’s been stuck in Gaul for five months until it was safe for him to travel.”
“And who made it safe for him to continue his journey?”
Ethelred stopped dead in his thoughts as he realised the enabler stood right before him.
“Why — why you - you of course.”
“Not entirely me; Carl, Hengis, Udris and Althred ... and several of your other earls had equal parts to play.”
Ethelred nodded quickly, fearful of slighting the other earls. But he was sure of one thing and he said it.
“We would not have been ready without your planning and preparations. All my earls will vouch for that”
“So surely this Cardinal can express his gratitude by marrying us.”
“Well ... I suppose he could; but would he? You are still a pagan after all.”
“We can only ask. When does he arrive?”
“We’re expecting him next week, provided the snow doesn’t get any worse. His ship left Rouen some two days ago.”
“So there is plenty of time before or after he consecrates your new church.” Drustina persisted.
“He might be otherwise engaged. He might not have time to marry you. I was hoping he could officiate at my wedding as well. The Mercian Princess Sonala has all but agreed to wed me. That’s why we invited him to stay until the spring, while we Saxons and the Mercians finalise the wedding contracts. King Edrinor has no sons; they were killed fighting the Vikings. His daughters were kidnapped by the Vikings so he has no issue left. Sonala is his younger sister and when Edrinor dies, she inherits the Mercian crown. Consequently my marriage to Sonala is the last hope of uniting our countries by blood as well as treaty. It will remove at least one source of conflict ... that between Saxons and Mercians.”
Drustina nodded sagely.
“Surely then, it is the business of the highest officer of the church available to marry you and Sonala. I should think Cardinal Craklow would be honoured and even obliged to officiate if he’s still here when the wedding is arranged.”
“Oh yes, definitely. King Edrinor has made it clear; he would prefer us to be married by the Cardinal. The Viking attack threw all our plans into disarray. The original plan was for the Cardinal to marry us in Mercia if Sonala was prepared to accept my hand. She was simply waiting to see if I was strong enough to defeat the Vikings.”
“So once again, you are telling me that my efforts have enabled your marriage to her. And yet you are still reluctant to ask the Cardinal to marry Carl and me.”
“I don’t know if he is prepared to marry two pagans. He might be offended by my asking.”
“The only way you’ll know that is if you ask him.”
The king sighed and then slumped. It seemed he had no choice but to approach the Cardinal. He made one last stab at avoiding causing the Cardinal any offence and asked Drustina.
“Can I ask you to approach the Cardinal yourselves and make it appear as if I know nothing about it? This is a first visit by a prince of the church and both we Saxons and the Mercians want it to go smoothly. He is a total stranger to our countries and he knows nobody of any note. Even Celyn has never met him before. If you and Carl pretend to be naive newcomers to our realm, he might look kindly on your request and put it down to your simple ignorance. That way, I can make excuses if he seems offended.”
Drustina could hardly contain her secret excitement as she realised her best hopes were coming to fruition.
“Shall Carl and I meet him at Sotona? I could introduce myself as ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ and hopefully, he might have heard of me. By his very own mores, I am at least a defender of his faith; by default if not by design, simply because I have helped to halt the Viking advance south. “
Ethelred’s eyes lit up.
“Why yes! That’s an excellent idea. You’d best make all haste; if his ship left Rouen two days ago, he’ll be in Sotona in a couple more days at most.”
~~
Carl and Drustina were gone very early the next morning; before Bishop Celyn could object.
Fortunately it had not snowed for several days and the frost had been hard so there was no cloying mud. The well trodden road between Sotona and Winchester was well flattened, indeed a long length of it remained from the earlier Roman road and as they made good speed.
Drustina could not but wonder why her own ancestors and the later invading Saxons had not maintained the old, paved, Roman roads. Sadly the contrary prevailed, many of the carefully laid slabs had been purloined. They encountered numerous stretches where the road had been removed altogether and numerous larger stone buildings showed clear evidence of dressed stones that had evidently been robbed from the road.
‘Mostly churches,’ Drustina noticed.
Fortunately the frost had hardened the mud so that they did not get bogged down , but the horses had to pick their way carefully for fear of injuring their hocks and hooves on the hardened ruts and ridges.
They eventually reached Sotona but the Cardinal’s ship was nowhere to be seen. After waiting another day, everybody was getting worried so Drustina decided to take The Angry Mermaid down the Solanta and out past Ynys Wit to find Cardinal Craklow even before he arrived at Sotona. Her decision was fortuitous because she came upon the Cardinal’s ship in some distress. Apparently a freak wave had struck her hard and dismasted her. The ship was in no danger of sinking but she was almost dead in the water.
The crew had made efforts to ‘jury-rig’ a sail but they lacked sufficient canvas and yard. A very relieved Captain was pleased to greet an obviously well found and speedy ‘Mermaid’ class of ship. He was even more relieved when he recognised the famous 'Lioness' banner flying from the topmast. He eagerly hailed the newcomer the moment she came within earshot.
“Are you the Lioness herself?”
“I am.” Came the distinctly female reply. D’you want a tow or spare cordage, canvas and yard.
“My passenger is at some despair. He is late for his appointment.”
“You mean Cardinal Craklow.”
“Oh. You know of his visit then?”
“I do. I also know the man. I do not see him though.”
The Captain quickly disappeared under the after castle and in seconds a scarlet robed man dashed out waving frantically.
“Drustina! So it’s truly you. The captain saw your banner but he couldn’t be certain.”
“Yes cardinal it’s me with my fiancé Carl. You remember him of course!”
“Of course I do. Can you favour me, I’m late.”
“I’ll help your captain first. We’ll still get back to Sotona tonight.”
“Thank you, I am indebted to you!”
It did not take long for Drustina’s crew to tranship a spare yard and a sail across to the other ship and both crews quickly set about re-arranging the jury rig. After securing the spare yard-arm to the broken mast stump and then rigging some extra stays, a decent area of canvas was set and the Cardinal’s ship was soon making slow but steady progress again. A very relieved captain expressed his undying gratitude while Drustina transferred Cardinal Craklow and his flag to The Mermaid and soon they were racing northwest towards the Solanta.
Carl took the helm while Drustina decided to talk to the Cardinal, Within minutes they were reliving old times and Drustina quickly sounded him out about his willingness to marry Carl and her. She was both excited and relieved when he agreed to do it. She also advised the Cardinal about the stand-off with Bishop Celyn but the Cardinal reassured her that no matter what objections the Bishop raised, he would endeavour to circumvent them. By now the Angry Mermaid had entered the more sheltered waters of the Solanta and the Angry Mermaid’s behaviour became livelier. The wavelets were shorter and steeper but the wind had increased.
As The Angry Mermaid slammed into the short steep waves, Drustina chatted at length with the Cardinal and the remainder of the voyage proved so enjoyable, that the Cardinal was in fine good humour when they finally arrived.
It was a very surprised reception committee who were dragged from their dinners after darkness had fallen to find themselves welcoming the Cardinal ashore unexpectedly from one of the most famous ships in Europe. Bishop Celyn was beside himself with frustration when he realised that somehow, the Celtic bitch and her Saxon soul-mate had stolen a march on his ambitions. He grovelled apologetically when he discovered that the Cardinal’s ship had met with an accident and expressed undying relief that the Lord God had seen fit to save him.
Cardinal Craklow smiled enigmatically as he replied.
“The Lord God did not save me Celyn; we weren’t in any danger, just dismasted. The Lioness of Carthage saved me, or rather dug me out of a jam. But for her, we’d still be plodding painfully slowly towards Ynys Wit. And finally, I must say it was a splendid piece of navigation that brought us alongside in the dark with only the shore lanterns to guide us.”
“As your grace pleases my lord.” Celyn grovelled. “Now if it pleases you, we have accommodation arranged for the night in Sotona and we depart for Winchester in the morning.”
He was about to usher the Cardinal away when Craklow turned to Drustina and Carl.
“Have you lodgings for the night Lioness? You are welcome to stay with me.”
Drustina felt it best to avoid any circumstance that might imply she had been conniving with the Cardinal so she tactfully refused the invitation.
“That’s very gracious of you Cardinal, but I have an excellent bed at my secretary’s lodgings. I’ve some paperwork to catch up on so I’ll be staying over in Sotona tomorrow and travelling up to Winchester the next day, weather permitting.”
Her refusal sent the Cardinal a sublimal message so he simply nodded without any expression that might give their relationship away.
“Very well Lioness, and once again I must thank you for your kindness and help today.”
Drustina smiled graciously and her smile successfully concealed her smirk as she watched Bishop Celyn seethe with frustration and uncertainty.
‘His scheming brain would be doing somersaults as he tried to find out what they had discussed between Ynys Wit and Sotona.’ She reflected with no small amusement.
In the morning the Cardinal’s ship arrived after having been assisted by a ship despatched by Hengis from Sotona . There was much commotion on the quay as Craklow’s baggage train was discharged and prepared for the journey to Winchester. This naturally delayed the departure for the Cardinal had decided he would travel with his baggage train. He should have left at daybreak because the sky threatened more snow but Bishop Celyn had been too grovelling and fawning to disagree with Cardinal Craklow. He should have been more forceful and explained to the Cardinal the difficulties even though the journey was but twenty miles. He failed to properly warn of the risks of getting caught in the dark whilst still on the road. If the snow fell and covered the road, they could easily get lost for want of clear landmarks if the snow clouds made it a starless, moonless night.
Consequently the Cardinal’s procession eventually left at Noon and Drustina watched from Lady Catherine’s window as the baggage train lumbered past. Catherine stood beside her and remarked.
“They haven’t left themselves much time. It will be close to dark when they get to Winchester.”
“Their choice.” Drustina shrugged, “Though you’re probably right, better to leave at day-break and be sure of the landmarks.”
“They should be okay if they have to overnight on the road.” Carl added. “There are Wagons to sleep in and they are well protected. I count over ten men at arms plus the wagon drivers and outriders.”
“Cold though.” Drustina finished as she turned away from the window to resume the paperwork.
She and Carl continued going through the accounts and lists with Lady Catherine until the light faded and they felt hungry. As they looked out into the deepening gloom the first flakes of snow began to fall. Lady Catherine warned them.
“It looks as though it’s setting in for the night, we’d best eat now. I know where there’s an excellent eating establishment just a few doors down the street. We’d better eat and then return here before the snow gets worse.” Lady Catherine advised.
Thus warned, they hastened to the inn and dined quickly to return even as the snow was up to their shins.
“Hope the cardinal made it.” Lady Catherine remarked.
“It’ll be a miserable night for them if he hasn’t.” Carl added.
Drustina shrugged unconcernedly.
“It’s only a score of miles to Winchester, a night out won’t harm them. Besides, the Bishop Celyn’s coach will keep them dry and snug; well, the two holy men at least. Can’t speak for the comfort of the others. Bed time I think.
For a moment Carl stood undecided as Catherine and Drustina removed their top clothes and joined each other under the woollen blankets. Drustina grinned and patted her side of the bed.
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
“But my ladies! I mean, Lady Catherine, it would be unseemly.”
The ex mother superior snorted derisively.
“Nonsense man. It’s this bed or freeze. Just make sure you stay on the Lionesses’ side.”
Carl shrugged and promptly accepted the invitation. Better a warm bed with two women than a cold night on a hard floor, even though there was a fire in the hearth. As he eventually crawled under the blankets he remembered and chuckled.
“I hope you’re not sleeping with your bloody sword and dagger. I want to wake up still intact with my bits.”
“Shut up and cwtch me you big oaf, I’m only sleeping with you two. Besides, nothing can happen with this big, awkward bump in my belly.” Drustina giggled as she turned over with some difficulty to present her bum to Carl’s spoon whilst she faced Lady Catherine.
Thus was a warm snug night shared by the three of them ... plus ‘the bump’.
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Bishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 53 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 50 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 53 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 52 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 52 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 69 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Edrinor.... Ch 80 The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala.... Ch 80 Edrinor’s daughter
Celyn.... Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
Chapter 81 addresses the issues Drustina faces when she finally decides to marry Carl.
King Ethelred wants her to marry as a Christian so as to sit properly with his new-found Christianity and the church in Wessex. The chapter explores the conflicts between Drustina and the Christian Bishop Celyn who objects to Drustina's Satanic duality and her paganism. Only the intervention by the visiting Papal emissary Cardinal Craklow surmounts Bishop Celyn's resistance.
In allowing for Drustina's Pagan beliefs to be accommodated within a Christian marriage ceremony, Cardinal Craklow lays down the foundations of the church's future expedient accommodations with paganism whilst striving to spread their gospel. Such accommodations are illustrated by the incorporating of pagan festivals like midwinter solstice with Christmas and Vernal equinox (Spring plantings,) with Easter. This festival changed later with the advent of the Gregorian calendar.
The Angry Mermaid 81
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 81.
The room seemed brilliantly lit when Drustina stirred at the crack of dawn. She frowned uncomprehendingly until she realised Carl was already up and he had eased back the heavy leather hide that hung in front of the shutters, then he had opened the shutters. Even though the sun had only just risen, the brilliant light in the room was the reflection from the deep snow outside. Drustina growled.
“Dammit Carl, close the bloody shutters, it’s cold enough without you letting the icy wind in.”
Her curse wakened Sister Catherine who eased open her eyes, peered at the painfully harsh light and promptly snuggled back tight into the blanket. Carl studied the pair and grinned.
“You’d better get up now, if you expect to reach Winchester today.”
“Whaddya’ mean?” Growled Drustina who still resented the icy wakening.
“It’ll take you all day to do the twenty miles in this; come and look!”
Drustina groaned then stumbled sleepily to the window and cursed as the brilliant whiteness dazzled her unaccustomed eyes.
“Damn! How can so much snow fall in one night? D’you think we should wait a day or so?”
“Dunno’ it’s not thawing so this’ll hang around for some time. More could fall as well before it thaws. At least the weather is clear for now, not a cloud in the sky.”
“It’ll be stupid to travel in this. All the road markers will be buried.”
“At least we’ll be able to see the land features. We’ll be on horse-back so no carts to get bogged down. I think we should try today, there’s no knowing when we’ll get another day like this.” Carl mused “Talking of carts, d’you think the Cardinal made it?”
Drustina yawned provocatively and her chemise slipped down to reveal swelling breasts. Carl’s eyes widened appreciatively and he smiled. Sister Catherine caught him looking but recognised there was no predation or undue lust in Carl’s eyes. He had after all, just spent a celibate night with The Lioness. Sister Catherine only wished she could have found a man like that in her youth.
“They’ll be in a right fix if they’re stuck in this.” Drustina added. “With carts, it’s quite likely.”
“If they are, it’s their fault. They should have waited.” Carl huffed,
“Steady on Darling, Cardinal Craklow was in a hurry and nobody could have predicted this. It’s three feet deep out there.”
“Bishop Celyn was stupid and reckless. He should have waited.”
“Yes, we get the message darling but it’s not the Bishop I’m worried about. “ Drustina continued. “Cardinal Craklow isn’t a young man and if he’s stuck out in this, he could freeze. I think we’d better start out and check they got to Winchester.”
Carl sighed resignedly. The last thing either he or Drustina wanted was for the Cardinal to perish.
“Aayee. I suppose you’re right. Come on, let’s get to it. Will you be coming Sister?”
“Try and stop me. I want to be there for your wedding even if the snow is twenty feet deep.”
“Well first we’ll eat then get organised. We’d better take spare horses.”
Within an hour word had spread that Drustina’s party were travelling to Winchester and several others who had business there asked to join their group. Then, as they were stepping through the city gates of Sotona, a drover with some herdsmen appeared with two score of cattle.
“I was scheduled to deliver these beasts to the city, the meat market is running low, I would be grateful if you would let me accompany you to Winchester. The more we are, the safer it is.”
At first Drustina and Carl were reluctant to travel with slow moving, plodding cattle but several of the other travellers were keen.
They explained that the cattle would make short work of the deep snow and she relented after seeing how the heavy cattle bulldozed their way through the belly deep snow. By the time they had left the city walls behind them their party numbered a dozen of Drustina’s guards, Drustina Carl and Sister Catherine, a dozen town’s-people and traders, six drovers and two score of cattle. All importantly, all the humans were mounted.
At midday they had covered ten miles at only two or three miles per hour but importantly, the cattle were trampling down the snow so that the horses were not being over-worked. Drustina watched with mounting gratitude as the drovers demonstrated their skills and navigational knowledge for they never once strayed far from the road that they travelled it regularly. All importantly, each drover had three mounts which he worked alternately so as not to tire his animals.
Working their horses through the deep, pristine snow to drive and constantly gather the cattle was exhausting for their horses. Drustina watched with satisfied admiration as she chewed on some bread and cheese.
Half way through the afternoon Drustina and Carl were not surprised to come upon the Cardinal’s baggage train making very heavy work of the deep snow. The horses and men were exhausted from hauling the carts through snow three or four feet deep. At the head of the column, they met up again with Bishop Celyn’s coach and a very tired looking Cardinal. A freezing night and repeated efforts to free the coach from deep snow or ruts under the snow had left everybody exhausted. Cardinal Craklow looked haggard and grey with fatigue. He was deeply relieved and grateful when the Drovers cattle overtook them and left a deep canyon through the snow for everybody to follow. Furthermore Drustina’s party were able to attach their spare horses to the coach and carts to speed the Cardinals progress. Their speed upped from half a mile per hour crawl to the two mile per hour plod of the cattle but this was enough to ensure arrival before nightfall in Winchester. It was a very relieved Cardinal who had once again to thank Drustina for getting him out of a hole.
“Another night in that cold would have killed me.” The cardinal confessed to Drustina as the Cardinal glared angrily at Bishop Celyn’s unsuspecting back. “The man was bloody fool to have attempted this journey.”
“He was a fool to try it with carts.” Carl added. “The drovers have taught us a thing or two. Plenty of spare mounts and a herd of heavy plodding cattle. They just smash their way through the snow.”
Cardinal Craklow nodded agreement before he finally separated to go and introduce himself to King Ethelred. As he departed Drustina turned to Carl.
“He can’t blame the bishop for being delayed by the carts; Celyn did try and get him to go ahead on horse-back. Cardinal Craklow was impatient to get his baggage to Winchester.”
Carl grinned.
“You know that Darling, and I know that; but don’t let’s antagonise the Cardinal by reminding him that he insisted in staying with his baggage train. Maybe he’s got valuables in his bags.”
“Yeah,” Drustina smiled, “and Celyn’s too sycophantic to contradict his boss.”Come on, let’s away to our lodgings at the palace. I’m bloody starving and cold.”
Ethelred was busy welcoming the Cardinal so Carl and Drustina invited Catherine to eat with them in their rooms. They were enjoying a quiet meal when there was a knock on the door. A servant informed them.
“The king requests that you attend him in his chambers, Cardinal Craklow is with him.”
Carl and Drustina glanced at each other and shrugged as they excused themselves from Sister Catherine. In the royal chambers they were invited to take seats by the large welcoming fire. King Ethelred smiled with mock censure.
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me young lady.”
Drustina smiled back and chuckled.
“Oh, so you’ve met my old friend Cardinal Craklow.”
The Cardinal had a huge grin for he had just relished telling Ethelred of their friendship going back some years to Polanda.
“That was very naughty of you. You know how much I’ve been fretting.”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise for you and I thought I’d let Cardinal Craklow enjoy telling you. Anyway, I don’t like to name-drop.”
Cardinal Craklow let out a belly laugh.
“YOU name drop! Ha, ha! Heck Drustina, you are the Lioness of Carthage! It’s me that would be name-dropping if I mentioned your name as a friend. You know perfectly well your name is known through all of Europe! I was shocked when Ethelred revealed he knew so little about you.”
“Well Wessex has been under virtual siege by the Vikings these past few years. Wessex and Mercia have been at war with Harald Cold Blood for nearly a decade. Hey haven’t received much news.”
“Well indeed, I must confess, Coldblood’s name has caused concern even unto Rome itself. You have done a miracle to stop him in his tracks. For that the church is truly grateful. I am told you even have one of his daughters as prisoner.”
“Guest more like. She attends my lodgings in Sotona.”
“And she hasn’t tried to escape. You must treat her well.”
“I treat all my people well, or I try to. She was hard done by her father. He wanted her wedded to one of his premier Jarls to provide a grandson. He has no sons and he wants a boy to be king when he’s gone.”
“My God Drustina. You have a priceless bargaining chip there my lady. Does Coldblood know you have her?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t trade her anyway. She is not some chattel to be bought and sold or used and abused. She is a royal princess in her own right and a brave one at that. I might add, she doesn’t think much of her father or her own people. She’s seen the destruction and cruelty caused by her father’s armies.”
“Yes,” the Cardinal nodded, “I’ve heard they are cruel and destructive.”
Drustina wagged her head in disagreement as she invited Carl to comment.
“They are no more so than most other armies are they Carl?”
“No. The Bulgars were every bit as cruel as were the Corsairs of the Barbary Coast.”
To emphasise his words, Carl lowered the shirt from his shoulders to reveal the ghastly scars of the slave masters lash.
“These are the scars of the Barbary oar-galleys. I was chained to the oars. I know whereof I speak, as does my leader. It is thanks to her, I was set free otherwise I’d be dead now.”
“Your leader!” Cardinal Craklow frowned. “If you are to be wed, you would be expected to be her master!”
Carl’s eyes flashed their clear disagreement.
“No way, the best I can be is her equal and that is but an opinion. Dru is my leader and my companion. We have been through too much together. When we marry, it is as equals but she is the one I will always turn to for advice and companionship. There is none who have more to offer than her. I am sorry if Drustina and I differ with your faith on this Cardinal, but that’s how it is. If you are to marry us then it is as equals.”
The Cardinal sat silent for a moment. The situation had never arisen before where the woman was a famous warrior and leader. A queen in her own right; a title earned by right of conquest and endowed by sovereign monarchs from far, far away. It seemed that truly, the Christian marriage rites were inadequate to address the exceptional circumstances. He decided that the special circumstances were sufficient for him to formulate a special contract of marriage and make his explanations to the Pope when and if he returned to Rome. While the Vikings were still a force to be avoided, there was still a very real risk to travelling by ship in the northern seas and Britannia was still an Island, not yet wholly converted to the faith, nor yet secure in military terms. It behoved the Cardinal to keep the Lioness sweet for she was one of the few forces for peace and stability in what were still very turbulent times.
Like many men for whom power and authority sat heavily, political expediency outweighed his official feelings as a man of faith. More importantly, Cardinal Craklow actually liked the Lioness. She was excellent company with a lively mind and stories enough to while away a whole winter of dark tedious nights. He arrived at his decision.
‘He would marry the pair for it was important to keep them onside. His first priority and duty was to convert the whole island to the faith, then address other issues. That however, would probably be long after he had passed.’
“Yes, I understand you now Carl. I will therefore marry you. All I ask is that you promise to remain faithful only to each other until death parts you. Are you happy with that Lioness?”
“More than happy. Thank you.”
King Ethelred let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Well thank God for that. Now to other matters of state. Consecration of our new church and my marriage to Sonala the Mercian Princess.”
Drustina and Carl smiled politely and asked to be excused. Drustina’s baby lay heavy in her womb and she was tired after a day in the frozen saddle. Both King and Cardinal jumped to their feet as she rose to leave. Carl noted with some satisfaction that both men were respectful of her double status as a feared warrior queen and a pregnant mother. They returned to their apartments where Catherine and Carl chatted by the fire while Drustina stripped and crawled into bed; grateful to be able to rest her back and aching legs.
For the next few days the pair had little to do. Carl simply loafed about in his apartments or helped out by clearing snow. Drustina usually slipped down into the city or visited the great church to wonder at the vast waste of money Ethelred had spent on its construction. Ethelred and the churchmen were busy preparing to consecrate the new great church while the rest of the city got on with the problems caused by the deep snow. As Drustina picked and plodded her cautious way about the city, she asked herself why Ethelred hadn’t spent the money repairing the old Roman roads. However, she kept her opinions to herself but everywhere she heard people complaining about the mud and filth. Each day she returned splattered in dirt and eventually Carl asked her why she went into the city.
“I just like going,” Drustina lied.
“Well just look at you. Your boots are a mess and your clothes are smattered with just about every imaginable dirt you can think of. You get your meals supplied by the Palace, why d’you go there?”
“Well if you must know, I’m getting a wedding gown made and you are not allowed to see it. It’s an old Celtic tradition.”
“Oh is that all?! It’s a Saxon tradition as well.”
“Right well you can’t come with me. It’s only a few more days and it’ll be finished.”
“Oh! I forgot to mention, Celyn was here while you were out; the Cardinal and Bishop Celyn have asked to see you tomorrow. Some loose ends to clear up before the wedding. Craklow is suggesting we marry about a week after the great church is consecrated. The first wedding under its huge roof.”
“Huh. I’d have thought Ethelred would have wanted that privilege. Big occasion and all that. Judging by the size of that place, Ethelred loves the big occasions and loud statements.”
“I suspect they want a trial run. His wedding will be huge state affair. I hope ours is just a simple ceremony just like the Pagan ones.”
“Yeah but with less booze and family rows.”
“Uuuuhhm, your forgetting one thing Dru.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to remind me, apart from Tara and the twins, I’ve got no family nearby. You haven’t heard anything about your sisters or brother have you?”
“Not yet. We’ll have to wait for the spring thaw before anybody is likely to come with any news. This bloody country virtually closes down in winter. “
“Except for church building it seems.”
“I wonder what these so called loose ends are. Come on, let’s go and eat.”
At the king’s table they found Ethelred in good humour. The great church was apparently finished and the consecration ceremony preparation was going apace. The ceremony and celebrations were fixed for the following Christian Sabbath. Ethelred however seemed more willing to talk to Drustina about her adventures. Now he had learned so much about them from Cardinal Craklow he wanted endless details from Drustina herself.
“The horse’s mouth as it were.” He grinned.
“More the lion’s mouth,” Carl replied, “or more correctly, lioness.”
“That’s enough darling,” Drustina scolded him gently, “it’ll sound as if we’re bragging.”
Ethelred however was not to be deterred.
“Well, your official title is ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ to name but one. Craklow has been telling me all about you. Even his Holiness the pope looks favourably upon you. When Craklow was elevated to Cardinal he had to tell the new pope all about you only because he’d met you and negotiated with you. That was unfair of you not to tell me you and he were friends.”
Drustina pouted uncertainly as she explained.
“I thought that if I told you, you would be under great pressure to take advantage of my friendship and perhaps press too hard. I wanted to sound him out first; make sure our friendship still endured.”
“Well it certainly does, he is very enamoured of your achievements. Why did you think he might no longer be your friend?”
“Times move your majesty. Politics change; whole countries change, popes change, kings change, most importantly, people change; sometimes because of victory or defeat in war, sometimes for political survival, sometimes for expediency. This I have learned and seen many times over. As often as not, ambition and jealousy destroy friendships.”
“Then they wouldn’t have been true friends in the first place.”
“Isn’t that the truth?!” Carl interjected.
“But Cardinal Craklow is your true friend, is he not?”
“I would like to think so. I’d be very disappointed if he proved not to be.”
“He told me that his knowing you advanced his career immensely when he was called to Rome. The new pope wanted to know all about you.”
“That’s the price of fame I suppose. People expect you to be some sort of goddess or miracle worker if they like you ... or they accuse you of being a witch; if they’re jealous.”
“I never realised your fame spread as far as the holy lands and even further.”
“My travels took me far and wide, I must admit. More an accident of political necessity that desire.”
“Do you realise you might be the only person in all Britannia who has been to the holy land.”
“I doubt it. There are missionaries going even now about Cambria, Hibernia and Scotia spreading your new faith. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them have been.”
“Well perhaps but I have you, here, now. I want you to tell me all about Jerusalem and Nazareth and Bethlehem.”
“Nazareth? Bethlehem? What’s so important about those places? They are but little villages but everybody was trying to tell me I must visit them. I did out of curiosity but I had no Christian interest either then or now. The places just seemed to be swarming with hawkers trying to sell me bits wood and all sorts of rubbish. It was a ghastly experience; everybody seemed to be on the make.”
Ethelred did a double take as he remembered Drustina was a pagan. She thought little of the messages of scriptures except that which she had garnished by using the bible as a travel reference book to find Jerusalem. The Wessex king was a little disappointed but he still wanted to hear of her travels and her battles. Thus was the evening spelt until the middle hour when Drustina protested that she wanted her bed. Her bump lay heavy and she was tired. Ethelred reluctantly conceded her protest and had the servant ladies attend her to bed.
~o0o~
After breakfast, Drustina and Carl attended upon the Cardinal at Bishop Celyn’s palace, a building almost as pretentious as Kind Ethelred’s.
“So Cardinal, what is it you wish to ask us about.” Carl wondered.
“It’s nothing to do with you,” Celyn replied, “the issues lie with the woman, or is it a man?”
“That’s uncalled for Bishop Celyn, everyone here can see she is with child.” Carl protested.
“How do we know the lump is truly a child. It might be an incubus spawned by Satan!”
“You’ll find out soon enough Bishop!” Drustina spoke softly but the resentment was clear. “The baby’s due in less than two months.
It should be a perfectly normal, healthy child. All my other babies are healthy.”
“Yes, well; that’s another issue. Those other children, are they legitimate or just bastards without a recognised father?”
“If I was not heavy with child, I’d run you through for that insult. Cardinal, are you going to let this oaf insult me?”
“They are fair questions Lioness, though I must agree, he puts them rudely. Celyn, I would caution you to be courteous to the lady.”
The bishop seethed under the Cardinal’s censure but he pressed the question another way.
“Do you know the fathers of your children.”
Drustina got angrier.
“Damn you! Yes I do, all of them except this one. “
“Why not that one?” Celyn pressed.
Drustina bluntly lied, but there was none to gainsay her.
“Because I was gang raped in The Havre when I was spying for the Saxon cause; things got a bit out of hand.. It could be any one of several Vikings. They took me by force.”
“If you are so good with that splendid sword you carry, why didn’t you use it to defend yourself?”
Drustina sighed impatiently then explained.
“I was there to learn information about the Viking plans, not sacrifice my life simply to kill a few Vikings. There was a greater priority!”
“So you sacrificed your honour, your respect, your right to be called a lady!” Celyn crowed, thinking he was winning the arguments.
“How do you conclude that. I allowed myself to be used.”
“So it wasn’t rape, you sold your services for information.”
“I used my body to trap them into divulging their secrets, that’s patriotism not prostitution! Nor was I paid in coin!”
“So you used satanic female wiles to seduce them like some evil witch. No Christian woman would allow herself to be an agent of Satan.”
“I am not a Christian woman. I am pagan. I don’t sell my body as you imply. I chose to use it to further the Saxon cause, Ethelred’s cause and indeed if I’m not mistaken, your cause!”
“Our cause!” Celyn almost screeched! “How can you claim to have furthered our cause?”
“I helped to stop the Viking advance southwards. Partly by learning their plans, partly by organising a defence based upon the knowledge I gained with my body! If the Vikings had won and invaded Wessex, your scrawny neck would have been the first to be severed! If saving your life is the devil’s work, then so be it. By your own words you admit to being an agent of this Satan thing of which you seem to be so afraid!”
“How so?” Celyn now found himself on the defensive.
“You are trying every way you can to condemn a pregnant woman who fought the enemies of your church and stopped them raping your womenfolk, killing your priests and pillaging your churches; not to mention burning your houses! If there is such a thing as this Satan spirit of whom you are so afraid, then his agents are the Vikings because they do his work and very well.”
Celyn fell silent as he marshalled his other arguments. The prostitution one had failed simply because Drustina had openly admitted she chose her sexual partners and her Pagan beliefs did not require her to marry those partners. She refused to bond herself into some sort of submissive servitude by a Christian ceremony that was tantamount to slavery. Celyn decided to question her other credentials.
“How did you become a queen?”
“By dint of conquest in battle in several different places. On several occasions I was offered the crown but turned the honour down. They insisted though that I accepted the title if not the monarchy and the country.”
“You’re saying you turned them down! D’you expect us to believe that?”
“Believe what you want. It’s all true, just ask the rulers of those countries today. Queen Mabina of Portua; my own twin sister no less. Queen Aiofe of Carthage, my oldest sister. Astos and Amitor; sister and brother rulers of Egypt! Meronee, queen of Nobatia, the Emperor Leon of Byzantium; the list goes on, do you want more?”
“You can’t prove any of that,” Celyn gloated. Where is your proof?”
“You can’t prove your accusations either. I can prove mine, given time but it would involve couriers going the length and breadth of Europa. Months! Years even before confirmation could be returned to this ... this inquisition. Are you prepared to wait years?”
“Of course not. There’s nobody who can provide proof! I say you are lying!”
Drustina shrugged, she was about to get angry but a rustle of movement from the cardinal’s throne caught her eye. She whipped her gaze towards him thinking Craklow might have some further charge but his words proved sweet music to her ears.
“Uuuuhhm, I afraid there is somebody who can provide some evidence to support her claim. Queen Mabina is certainly the queen of Portua and she was put on the throne by a victorious young Celtic warrior who refused the offer of that realm. But that warrior was a boy! The lady Mabina is now a Christian queen, her realm is but a month away by fast ship. If she is prepared to support Drustina’s claim, surely that is evidence enough.”
Drustina wagged her head with disgust. A month there and a month back would be too late. Her baby would be born before then or too damned close to call. Then she had a brainwave.
“I know somebody who can confirm that Mabina is my twin sister.”
“Who?” Celyn demanded.
“Udris the Celtic admiral who helped defeat the Vikings. He is but a week away at most, Dumnoniia or Brithony, he could be in either realm. He can confirm that I killed Blueface, he witnessed it. He can also confirm that my sisters are Queen Mabina, my twin and Queen Aiofe of Carthage, my older sister.”
“Would he be prepared to come here?” Craklow asked. “I’m thinking of the danger of the winter storms.”
“I have loyal officers who would be willing to brave the weather to either go and collect him or get him to write an affidavit. The mermaid class of ships are nothing if not seaworthy!”
Craklow nodded and turned to Celyn.
“Shall we suspend these questions until this matter is resolved?”
Celyn smirked dismissively.
“I have other questions yet your grace. There is the question of bigamy, there is the question of her gender; is she a man or a woman?!”
“I think the gender question is resolve Bishop, let it lie. The lady is obviously with child and the question of fatherhood is not a fair one to ask again. She’s answered that openly and honestly. Let it lie. Your mention of Bigamy is something I will hear.”
Celyn’s eyes glittered as he was convinced her had Drustina in a corner.
“You say that you conceived a child by the Egyptian Pharaoh Athos and that child is now the heir to the Pharoic throne.”
“I did.”
“For that child to be the legitimate heir, the parents must be legally wedded.”
Drustina nodded, “correct.”
“So you are not denying you are already wedded to this Egyptian pharaoh.”
“Correction,” Drustina smiled disarmingly, “was married. We got divorced by mutual agreement after our child was born or should I say more correctly, our twins were born.”
“The twins you have with you now?”
“No. Morgan and Amethyst were born to me earlier. Athos’s children were born by me later; they remain in Egypt as future monarchs.”
“Divorce is illegal unless the marriage is annulled by his holiness.”
“By your rules, perhaps, not by the Copts, that is the Egyptian Christians; nor by the pharaohs. Athos and I were married legally in Egypt and divorced legally. It’s your branch of Christianity that forbids divorce. I was a pagan then and I’m still a pagan.”
“So you are saying you didn’t swear to remain faithful to one another for life.”
“No. Our marriage was simply an agreement to produce a viable, healthy heir. The Pharoic bloodline was becoming weak and inbred. New blood was needed. Athos and his sister queen Amitor concluded I would be an ideal mother because of my martial skills. They wanted a strong child, and if I say it myself, they got one.”
“His sister queen!”
“Yes.”
“Are you saying they ruled as king and queen?”
Drustina nodded and shrugged.
“Yes.”
“But that would mean they were king and consort ... husband and wife.”
“Yes.”
“But that’s incest!”
“Yes.”
“But that’s illegal! It clearly states so in the bible!”
“The pharaohs were around long before the bible. They’ve been practicing incest for thousands of years. Long, long before they became Christians.”
“But what about inbreeding, weak children and what-have-you?”
“The king or the queen would marry another temporarily to strengthen the line. They know about the dangers of inbreeding.”
“But that means bigamy! If you married this King Athos, you were a bigamist!”
“No. Once again you are applying your rules where your writ does not sun. They are allowed to practice polygamy, though the second wife is rarely allowed to remain married after a child and heir is born. They divorce again. You see Bishop Celyn; you are trying to apply your rules to circumstances and countries way outside your jurisdiction.”
“But these are God’s rules!”
“Your god, not theirs ... or mine.”
“They are Christian.”
Drustina snorted.
“That’s a very loose term in Egypt. There adherence to Christianity is a lot looser than yours. As I said, they are Copts, not Catholics.”
“But if you are divorced, you cannot marry in our church, a catholic church!”
“By your own arguments you have just said that Athos and Amitor’s marriage was incestuous and therefore null and void. So by your definition I was legally married because Athos and Amitor were not legally married, by your rules, that is.”
“But you could not get divorced then.”
“Again that’s by your rules, not by theirs, or mine. Look, we are going around in circles. Am I to be married in this church or not?”
“These issues must be resolved.”
“Very well, send out your emissaries all around Europe, to far Cathay if you wish. It makes no difference to me. A marriage in this church is simply to legitimise my child in your eyes by your customs. To enable him to become a noble. It’s purely a political expediency to avert conflict between Ethelred and his people or me and your church. Carl and I can get married ‘neath the yew, oak and Ash and the Rowan berry tree'. It was good enough for our parents and it’s good enough for us.”
Cardinal Craklow stirred again. He realised it was in the church’s interest to get this couple married under some semblance of Christian doctrine if only to further advance Christianity into the premier position of ‘Established church’. His main aim was to use Drustina’s high profile to persuade others to convert. He also realised that he would have to seriously liberalise canon law in Britannia to get it by the Saxon and Mercian concepts of pagan equality for both men and women. It was obvious to everybody except Bishop Celyn that Drustina enjoyed her hard-won, high status and subsequent freedom far too much to ever forsake it. Carl and Drustina’s wedding vows would have to be ‘adjusted’ for political expediency and he would make his excuses to the pope when he returned to Rome. With these thoughts tormenting his brain and faith, he reluctantly intervened.
“I have heard enough arguments. I will retire to my chambers and deliberate at length. Good day my lady and gentlemen.”
Drustina nodded briefly whilst wearing a straight face, Celyn simply bowed his head irritably. It was obvious he felt his arguments were not yet finished so he hurried after the Cardinal.
Once out of earshot from Drustina he pleaded furiously.
“How can we marry them? If she has fathered a child by the Queen Meronee of Nobatia then she is a man and Carl cannot marry a man.”
The cardinal turned a little testily, “look Celyn, she has also born at least four children by two different men, one of whom was the Pharaoh. By your specious reasoning that also makes her a woman. Which is it to be?”
“She cannot be both or that would make the marriage a mockery. She must be judged!”
Cardinal Craklow snorted softly.
“Oh; by whom?”
Celyn hesitated as his mind raced.
“Uuuuhhm, well by us; us and the healers.”
“Well let’s start here and now. Drustina has both male and female parts. Apparently, they both work. The female parts certainly do and she produces normal children as far as I can see. Her twins Morgan and Amethyst appear normal in every respect. Ethelred’s nursemaids don’t mention any abnormalities and they help care for the pair. So where do we begin. The lioness is as God made her or him if you would have it but if that’s how God made her or him, who are we to say differently.”
Celyn felt he was on firmer ground here.
“I believe the devil made her.”
“So you’re trying to say that the Devil sent a warrior to fight on behalf of the holy church, to enable Christianity to make a toe-hold on this island. How would I explain that to King Ethelred who is but yesterday’s convert to the faith? How would he see it if the church tried to condemn the saviour of his realm, the warrior who led his navy and his army to victory?”
“You are putting political expediency before the holy scriptures. She is a monster and should not be allowed to marry!”
“So show me in the Holy Scriptures where it says a person who is as God made them should be executed.”
“She is an abomination, a total mistake. She is not as she should be!”
“I see you keep saying she and yet she has male parts as well. Now if you say she ... or he ... is a mistake, you are saying that Almighty God who we have to presume made her ... or him... made that mistake. Are you saying almighty God is fallible?”
“Of course not.”
“So are you saying the Devil made her, and sent her to fight for us?”
“No! Of course not! That would put the holy church in league with the very Devil!”
“So what are you saying? What concrete evidence do you have?”
“Concrete evidence for what?”
“Evidence she was created by the Devil. Evidence enough to prove it. Evidence enough to convince me there is cause enough to set the whole of Northern Europe alight with indignation and rage. This Lioness is known and liked from Scandia to Iberia, from Russ to Africa, from Britannia to the Holy land. Methinks Bishop Celyn that you are naive and parochial in your dealings with what are great affairs of state, affairs of huge import to whole of Christendom. It is not for a mere Bishop to foment such trouble for the church. I suggest you let the matter of her duality drop!
Oh, and furthermore; do not forget there are thousands of Saxon earls and their warriors all around us from here to Gaul! Do you think they would honestly let you or I kill their leader and heroine? She has their hearts and minds as no Pope or King or mere Cardinal ever could. We would not get five yards from your great church before we would be cut down like corn! Remember our hold on these Saxon souls is tenuous at best. Then of course, there is the matter of her own small army of battle-hardened, totally loyal companions who are garrisoned in Sotona, the only viable and totally safe port from which I and possibly you could depart in safety to Gaul. Again I hazard we would be killed there in Sotona if we somehow managed to escape the Saxon wrath here in Winchester.
No Celyn. Your entreaties here have only served to convince me that the church should marry the pair and be done with it. Provided the marriage service bears some semblance to a Christian union but accommodates things that they hold dear from their paganism and doesn’t directly contradict the scriptures, I’m going to go with marrying them, sooner, rather than later. That’s an end to it, my mind is made up. Tomorrow I declare this in the great hall.”
Bishop Celyn had other ideas.
~~ooo000ooo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Bishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw, later Cardinal Craklow.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 55 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 52 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 54 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 53 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 56 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Ch 62 Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Ch 62 Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 63 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Jupus..... Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Edrinor Ch 80. The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala Ch 80 Edrinor’s daughter
Celyn Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
Drustina eventually wins the arguments concerning her right to marry Carl but Bishop Celyn is enraged by Cardinal Craklow's use of political expediency to circumvent what Celyn believes to be rigid, biblical strictures about gender, faith and nobility. He plans to have the Cardinal murdered.
The Angry Mermaid 82
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 82
That evening, while the Cardinal Craklow and Bishop Celyn had continued the argument about Drustina, a blizzard arrived. More wind-driven snow heaped up in drifts as the wind howled around corners and the fine crystalline snow searched through every little crevice. Carl cursed it as he sallied forth from the main gate and he reflected how he came to be out in such foul conditions at the dead of night.
He had left Drustina in her warm palace apartment with Tara and Sister Catherine for company. Drustina’s ‘bump’ was growing burdensome and she tossed and turned in the night with her efforts to get comfortable. That night, she had disturbed Carl in the middle hours and to avoid being disturbed by her again, he had slipped away to find a quieter bed. The storm had alerted him to possible dangers to their horses so he had left the king’s palace to check that their horses were properly bedded. The wind had risen to a tempest and the freezing crystals were stinging his face.
When the palace ostler had taken their horses away on their arrival, Carl had not immediately checked they were warmly bedded. He had scolded himself for failing to do so and after reassuring himself that the horses were warmly stabled, he had found himself facing the bitter wind and stinging snow crystals. To avoid the onslaught of the elements, Carl had chosen the high city wall battlements to return to the palace while avoiding the driving snow that now lay four and five feet thick on the ground between the drifts. Up on the battlements, the wind was stronger but he could duck from castellation to castellation while the walkway was swept clear of snow by the shrieking gusts that eddied between those same battlements.
As he picked his way like some sinister shadow he was challenged by a surprised sentry who resented being disturbed from his warm cosy little gate tower where he was settled beside his brazier while his comrades slept in bunks around the walls.
“Who are you?”
“Carl the Saxon, companion to the Lioness and guests of the king.”
“Oh. Thank the gods. I thought it was the captain of the guard come to check on us.”
“What! In this bloody weather?”
“Well that’s exactly what I was going to ask you about. Why aren’t you bedded with your wife? This is no place to be on a night like this.”
“Oh she couldn’t sleep. The baby lies heavy within her and she tosses alarmingly. I was looking for a quieter berth.”
“What, out here?”
“No. I’ve just been checking our horses and making sure they were properly bedded. I was using the walls as a short cut back to the king’s palace to avoid the deepening snow. In some parts it’s as deep as a man’s chest down there now and the drifts are impassable.”
“Well there’s a spare bunk by the door, that’s the coldest spot but it’s warmer than out there.”
“Thanks for the offer soldier but I think I’ve got a better, warmer berth back in my lady’s chamber. There’re some skins and a spare mattress I can use to sleep by the fire.”
“Lucky you, I’m here till the midday change of watch.”
“Well at least you’ve got the brazier, can I trouble you for some of that hot beer?”
The guardsman willingly poured out a generous serving then refilled his own tankard. The wind rose to a shriek and the two men exchanged wry grins as they edged closer to the watchman’s fire.
“Bugger this for a game of soldiers,” Carl grinned. “We’re a daft pair of buggers.”
The guard’s man nodded and turned to stare out of the arrow slot overlooking the main gate. Then he turned to face Carl and remarked as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the main gate below them.
“Not as daft as that silly bugger!”
“Who?” asked Carl as he turned to peer through the same arrow slot. “Well I’ll be buggered, what idiot would be abroad on a night such as this?”
"Well you for a start!” the Guard’s man grinned as he turned again to peer through the narrow slot.”
Carl asked curiously.
“How would he have got passed the main gate without being challenged?”
The guard shrugged then his shoulders stiffened.
“Oh-oh, that’s Lefty Tip-toe. He’s a sly, nimble little weasel. He could slip through a rat hole. What's worse, King Ethelred has been spending all the money on the great church so the walls are in a bad state. Lefty could have slipped through or over any number of places but wherever he slipped out I’ll bet he’s up to no good. Lefty’s like an acrobat; I’m surprised he’s even using the main road; he probably thinks we’re all huddled inside tonight, sheltering from this storm. I’ll rouse a couple of these sleeping beauties to follow him.”
Carl smiled at the guard’s man’s nick-name for the figure struggling through the snow but he continued watching the huddled struggling figure as the watch-keepers grumbled about being disturbed. The duty guard’s man scolded them as he warned them who was present. They stared sleepily then gasped at having such august company.
“Shit!” seemed to be generally surprised consensus as wakefulness infected the whole watch.
Carl moved quickly to allay their fears.
“At ease men, I’m not here in any official capacity. I’m just curious about him.”
The men clustered to peer through the arrow slot then one remarked.
“Yes, it’s definitely Lefty. He looks as though he’s going to the Bishop’s palace?”
The man, who turned out to be the sergeant of the guard, turned to Carl.
“Something’s up. Lefty’s a sneaky one and for him to be out in this weather means something big is up.”
Carl felt a cold shiver snake its way down his spine as he asked.
“Is he capable of murder?”
“He’s been suspected of it before, but there was never enough evidence and he always had an alibi. Usually one of his cronies.”
Carl tensed then finished.
“Bring two men with you sergeant, follow me, and bring your swords.”
Even as the men girded for the weather, the duty watch-keeper kept peering through the arrow slit and remarked.
“He’s definitely heading for the Bishop’s palace.”
“Quickly men. Follow me!”
Thus Carl found himself wading through the deep snow with three cursing soldiers of the king’s guard. Fortunately, lefty’s tracks had broken through the snow and that made progress easier. Carl turned to silence them.
“Shhh! You noisy buggers, we don’t want the whole bloody town to know we’re here.”
Inevitably Lefty had left an unavoidable trail through the snow and the pursuers were able to tag him as he sneaked around the back of the Palace and let himself in.
“That door wasn’t locked!” The sergeant hissed.
“Which tells me this is some sort of inside job.” Carl replied. “Come on!”
The men wasted no time rushing to the same rear door and silently slipped through, only to realise the darkness had hidden any trail. There were only two alternatives so they divided up into pairs and crept silently forward. Soon Carl and his companion realised there was candle-light flickering under one of the doors and they crept silently to listen. Carl recognised Bishop Celyn’s voice while the watchman confirmed the other voice was Lefty Tip-toe. The pair kneeled very carefully down to listen under the door. Bishop Celyn was issuing instructions.
“I’m going to wake the housekeeper and prepare some warm wine. You wait until you hear me talking to her.”
“Then what?” Lefty asked.
“Do what I’m paying you to do. Have you got your alibi prepared?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“D’you think I’d tell you that?”
“Let me ask you another way. I don’t want the Cardinal to die immediately but be able to stagger to the parlour where I will be sharing my warm wine with the housekeeper. Can you wound him thus; fatally but so that death comes slowly? It gives you time to escape and the Cardinal time to stagger to the parlour and shout murder where it will be obvious that I or the housekeeper could not have done it.”
“Is there anything else?" Lefty asked irritably, "I want to get this done with.”
“This snow is the only problem. I never planned for this.” Bishop Celyn lamented.
“I’ll retrace my tracks, that way the trail will become blurred. When the hue and cry goes up, others will quickly rush to see what’s afoot and destroy my tracks. I will simply join the throng so that tracks from my hovel will be similarly trampled out of all recognition.”
“Good. Now go to it.”
“You haven’t told me which chamber the Cardinal sleeps in?”
“Where d’you think, you idiot. The main suite! He’s a prince of the church!”
“The one with the big brass door ring!”
“Exactly you fool. Now go to it!”
“Uuuhm, my money first.”
Bishop Celyn cursed as they argued about how and when to pay. To Carl’s delight this gave them time to slip away and warn the cardinal. As they crept towards the grand suite they met the sergeant and the other guard’s man. Quickly Carl explained then described how to trap a single assassin in darkness.
“It’s all about us knowing exactly where each other is and NOT moving until we have him. I plan to wait low down between the bed and the window. My leader the Lioness is a past master at these instances and she’s often discussed the tactics with me. Just do as I say.”
The men nodded as Carl eased the heavy door open.
“Who’s there?” Cardinal Craklow demanded as he was tapped gently on the shoulder by the sergeant of the guard.
“Sergeant Penstock of the royal guard, wake up.” He whispered
“I am awake you fool. What’s going on?”
“There’s going to be an attempt upon your life tonight. We are here to trap the assassin. We know who it is and who organised your execution. We have laid a trap so don’t move just pretend to be asleep.”
“What!!” Gasped the cardinal as he realised the need for silence.”
“More of that later. The assassin approaches, pretend to be asleep and keep silent.”
With these words, the heavy brass door ring creaked very softly and slowly. The Cardinal noted a shadowy figure slip into his room. The tension was intense and it was all the Cardinal could do not to shout a challenge and call for help. He bit his tongue desperately as the shadow approached his bed. Then to the Cardinal’s intense relief there was the tell-tale ‘swoosh’ of a sword blade and the shadow screamed in agony.
“Aaargh, my bloody wrist!”
“Step back,” roared Carl while the other soldiers remained totally silent and didn’t move as per the plan.
Lefty continued moaning whilst holding his injured wrist but Carl was not to be fooled; he turned to the Cardinal still in his bed.
“Can you raise some light?”
“I’ll have to call the house keeper. Shall I fetch her?”
“Don’t move! The moment another person moves he can use the confusion to slip away or hurt one of us.”
Carl spoke loudly for the benefit of the other soldiers. Much battle experience had taught Carl about the advantages a single person enjoyed in total darkness. To the single assassin, everybody else was the enemy and much confusion or mayhem could be created to enable escape. Instead, Carl pushed his sword harder into the moaning shape and pinned him against the wall. Then he spoke to the guards.
“Arthur, you were with me earlier. You’ll probably find the house-keeper with the Bishop, take Derek with you and bring back some light. Sergeant will you stay with me to be a witness? Don’t approach this rat, he might still have his weapon handy, it’s too dark to see if he’s seriously hurt, I only used the flat of my sword because I want him alive.”
The two men slipped out and the Sergeant suggested that he stood by the door. Carl agreed because he still had Lefty pinned by sword to belly. Once the sergeant had positioned himself by the door Carl spoke again, mainly to maintain order and stillness. Until there was light it was foolish to try and do anything. Lefty started moaning louder but Carl was not to be fooled or distracted. He pressed his sword slightly harder into lefty’s hard, muscular belly. Even through the blade of his sword, Carl could tell that Lefty was a tough, wiry little individual so he kept his point firmly lodged where he could instantly pierce his captive if he moved unexpectedly. Lefty realised his captor was no tenderfoot. The sharp point in his belly was a clear message.
After a couple of minutes, light under the door announced the guards return with bishop Celyn and house-keeper. When the door was opened the two guards stood illuminated by their candelabras before Carl granted entry.
Carl then realised there were also two other men behind the bishop who Carl didn’t recognise but presumed were the bishop’s men. He promptly ordered them to guard the outside of the door. The Bishop’s protest told Carl that the Bishop was probably hoping to get his men on the inside; possibly to silence Lefty before he could speak. With the room now lit by the two large candelabras that the guards had grabbed from the dining table Carl could go forward. Firstly he had the guards secure lefty and search him for hidden weapons. To their surprise, they found only one dagger but several thin sharp spikes like extra long nails. Carl recognised them immediately and explained.
“They are assassin’s tools I’ll explain and demonstrate some other time. This bastard is not some common or garden thief. Look, there’s a similar one between the folds of the cardinal’s blanket.”
Carl turned to the shocked cardinal and tapped the spike with the tip of his sword. He then motioned towards the Cardinal’s chest with his sword indicating the two feet gap.
“That was the weapon this bugger was holding when I struck his wrist. You came that close to a slow, lingering death. I believe your bishop may know something about this.”
The Cardinal released a very unholy curse and turned to Bishop Celyn.
“What evil is this?”
Bishop Celyn stammered for a moment as he tried to gather his wits. The sergeant stepped forward as though to arrest the bishop but Carl simply motioned for calm whilst putting his finger to his lips and nodding towards the bishop.
“Let his lordship explain.”
This was a ploy to let the bishop incriminate himself for he had no idea how much Carl and the guards knew. The more lies they could trap the bishop in, the easier would be the prosecution.
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Archishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw, later Cardinal Craklow.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 55 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 52 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 54 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 53 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 56 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Ch 62 Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Ch 62 Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 63 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Jupus..... Ch 69 Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Ch 69 Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Ch 70 Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Ch 71 Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Ch 73 Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... Ch 72 The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Edrinor.... Ch 80. The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala.... Ch 80 Edrinor’s daughter
Celyn.... Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
The trial commences and Bishop Celyn gets himself into a jam.
The Angry Mermaid 83
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 83.
Before the bishop was allowed to explain, the first thing Carl organised was for the three guards to remove Lefty Tip-toe to the garderobe so that he could not hear or contradict the bishop’s testimony. Once he was secure the sergeant returned with Arthur while Derek stayed to watch Lefty who was bound hand and foot, gagged and blind-folded.
When the sergeant returned Carl kept silent and nodded imperceptibly to the guards. When the cardinal started asking questions Bishop Celyn started lying. He blithely denied all knowledge of the attempted assassination by first pretending that it must have been a bungled robbery. At this suggestion Cardinal Craklow held up the long spike that so much resembled a steel knitting needle.
“Are you saying this tool is some sort of ‘pick-lock’?”
“That is all I can think of.”
“The Saxon deems it to be some sort of specialist skewer, designed to slip easily between a man’s ribs and pierce a man’s heart; ... my ribs ... my heart!”
“I have no idea who would wish you dead. I can only think it would be an enemy of the holy church, somebody who might wish to keep to the old pagan faiths, somebody who might secretly object perhaps to the building of our church.”
Carl struggled to keep silent as he sensed exactly who Bishop Celyn was trying to implicate. At this stage though, it was best he kept silent for his testimony would have devastating consequences. He let the cardinal continue.
“That could be almost anybody.” The cardinal replied.
“Then I don’t know your holiness, you might have to ask the intruder as to who put him up to it.”
“We’ll deal with him later. The question here is the seeming attempt upon my life. How did a common thief or a professional assassin even, get into your palace?”
“Your grace, I am desperately sorry for this serious breach of security. I had no idea; please ask the housekeeper, she locks the doors at night.”
“Are you suggesting she left the doors unlocked or that the assassin somehow picked the locks ... with this? It hasn’t even got a turnkey on it! It’s straight!”
He held up the needle sharp skewer.
“It’s possible your grace, a skilled man might ....”
“Enough, that is all conjecture. I’ll speak with the house-keeper later. But first, I will despatch one of these two city guards to fetch the king and some of his retainers.”
The cardinal turned to Carl who wagged his head to warn the cardinal.
“Your grace, we have no certainty who else might be at large that might be intent upon your murder. If any more assassins arrive, I and the sergeant’s men might be outnumbered. Might I suggest you ask Bishop Celyn to despatch one of his guards from outside the door.”
“Are you sure Saxon?”
The cardinal pressed as he quickly grasped the Saxon’s intent. He turned to the bishop and nodded.
“Yes bishop, perhaps you’d better send some of your guards to rouse King Ethelred.”
Carl and the sergeant exchanged the faintest traces of smiles as they both recognised the dawning fear in Celyn’s eyes. Craklow’s acceptance of Carl’s suggestion that he, the cardinal, might still be attacked was certain proof that he did not trust either the bishop or his household. The bishop cast about him as the dawning realisation settled like a dead lump in his belly; he almost cried his next plea.
“Your grace! I assure you in the name of God that I had no hand in this.”
“We’ll let the king and his earls decide that,” Cardinal Craklow replied. “It would not be right for anybody here to act as judge, jury or inquisitor. We are all witnesses in some lesser or greater degree. Only the King is empowered to determine the truth here. Send one or better still, two of your guards.”
Bishop Celyn now realised there was to be no chance of silencing Lefty Tip-toe. He swallowed nervously and grovelled as he backed away to instruct the guards. Cardinal Craklow nodded slowly and knowingly as he recognised that the Saxon’s suspicions might be correct. He instructed the bishop to remain in the room as he turned to Carl.
“Very well bishop but you must wait here. Saxon, send one of the guards from outside the door to go and find another guard. Tell him to collect another comrade and report this business to the king.”
Carl nodded to the sergeant of the city guard who was naturally well known to the bishop’s men for they often met socially in the city when off duty and officially during ceremonial occasions. The bishop’s guard was briefly invited in to receive the cardinal’s orders. He saluted, went down the corridor to find another comrade and they were soon trudging through the snow to the city gate thence the king’s palace.
Within an hour King Ethelred and a company of his guard arrived at the Bishop’s palace; all were on horseback because the snow was so deep.
Firstly, the king demanded to speak privately to the Cardinal without anybody else present. He left instructions for everybody to surrender their weapons including Carl. The city guard’s-men were reluctant at first but Carl persuaded them. He had no reason to mistrust the king for he had heard the bishop plotting with Lefty. Carl already knew who the plotters were, what puzzled him were the bishop’s motives.
Everybody spent an hour waiting in the Bishop’s parlour until the King emerged from the Cardinal’s bedroom. He announced to everybody.
“I will be holding my court two days from now. The assassin will be held in my Prison. The Cardinal will be moving to my palace for safe-keeping, you Bishop Celyn, will remain here incommunicado at your palace and sergeant, I am requiring you and the city guards to be billeted with the Captain of the palace guard in the royal barracks where you will speak to nobody. Carl, I am requiring you to return to the Lioness and stay in your chambers with her until the day of the hearings.”
Ethelred issued further instructions to his palace guards and trudged wearily out of the room while his soldiers quickly setting about implementing Ethelred’s orders. Carl was pleased that the weapons were returned to the city guards. They at least, were under no suspicion. Carl’s sword was detained as evidence because there was blood on the blade where the flat had broken the assassin’s wrist and split the skin. He returned through the freezing snow now flattened and compacted by the horses and quickly slipped into Drustina’s bedroom.
~o0o~
“He what!!?” Drustina gasped in total disbelief.
“Honestly Dru! The Cardinal no less. It beggars belief!”
“So what exactly happened?”
“I’ll tell you in the morning, I’m tired and freezing right now.”
“You don’t expect me to sleep now do you?”
“Well you’d better. Move up and let me in, I’m bloody freezing.”
His cold feet just brushed Drustina’s butt and she squealed her protest.
“Aaargh! You’re bloody freezing, go and warm up by the fire first!”
“It’s only my feet; the rest of me has warmed up by the fire already.”
“Well keep your bloody feet away you sadist.”
He giggled but did as ordered and spooned up to her until his feet had warmed then she chose to slide her feet between his while they continued talking quietly about the night’s events. They eventually fell asleep and stayed spooned together until the morning. Sister Catherine woke them when a knock on the door announced the arrival of Carl’s breakfast.
“Why aren’t you eating in the great hall with the rest of us?” Drustina demanded.
“I’m a witness and I’m not allowed to discuss the case with anybody.”
“Huh. You discussed it with me last night.”
“Yeah. Well don’t go spreading that around. I’ve been asked to stay incommunicado until the trial, the day after tomorrow.”
She grinned at him as she dressed into a loose gown while Sister Catherine helped her. Carl studied her ‘bump’ and grinned.
“It’s getting big. D’you think it’s twins again?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. I’m a twin.” Drustina sighed as she kissed him then waddled slowly down to the great hall.
For the remaining time, Carl felt like a caged animal until the time of the trial. Fortunately, Drustina’s delightful company kept him sane and he emerged to sit at the back of the great hall while Ethelred asked numerous questions of the three city guards.
Guard’s-man Arthur got a particular grilling as Bishop Celyn advocated for himself and he virtually accused Arthur of being a liar under the presumption that Arthur was just a common soldier who typically bragged and lied. Celyn asserted that nobody could trust Arthur’s testimony because it couldn’t be supported. On the other hand, Celyn implied that he, as a bishop and a man of God, would naturally be of impeccable character.
For a moment Arthur seethed with indignation then finally he referred the pompous bishop to Carl. Bishop Celyn span
around in shock as he realised there must have been two witnesses.
“Are you saying that you were accompanied by the Saxon all this time?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I have; now! Nobody asked until now.”
Bishop Celyn paled noticeably as he realised he had walked into a trap. The Saxon would be deemed a much more trustworthy witness; a man well known, much liked by the other earls and well respected for his part in the defence of Wessex. King Ethelred intervened to question the city Guard.
“So you are saying that Carl the Saxon was with you when you were outside the door.”
“Yes your majesty. Eric and Sergeant Penstock went one way and the Saxon took me. We saw the light under the door and heard talking. The Saxon can confirm all this.”
Ethelred turned to Bishop Celyn.
“Have you any more questions for this soldier.”
Bishop Celyn almost croaked his hoarse reply.
“No your majesty.”
“Very well, I call Carl the Saxon.”
There was a murmur of interest around the court as Carl approached the King’s high table and promised to tell the truth. Ethelred instructed him to relate his version of events which paralleled Arthur’s and when he had finished, there was a deathly silence. Ethelred invited Bishop Celyn to question the Saxon.
“Firstly Saxon, if you heard all this then why didn’t you arrest us there and then while we were talking in the kitchen?”
“There were only two of us at the kitchen door and we didn’t know how many assassins were present, either in the kitchen with you or secreted about the palace.”
“But you say yourself that there were only one set of tracks in the snow.”
“No, I said we only SAW one set of tracks. How were we to know that other Assassins hadn’t already entered the palace before the snow started earlier that evening?”
“And how would they do that? How would they get past my guards?”
“Quo gardis qui gardis? There was definitely somebody helping the assassin because the two guards, the sergeant and I each saw Lefty Tip-toe walk straight up to the unlocked door and step straight in. There was no attempt to check if the door was locked, he just walked up and opened it without hesitation, without even looking around and obviously without any fears of being challenged. The sergeant actually remarked to that effect and I agreed. Normally a thief would skulk and creep for fear of capture. It was an inside job.”
“Oh so you would know about such things.” Replied the bishop as he tried to intimate that Carl might have a dishonest side.
Carl just snorted his contempt as he explained.
“Bishop, I have fought alongside the Lioness many times. I’ve invaded enough castles and palaces by stealth, by subterfuge and by deception to know exactly how men behave when they are avoiding discovery! It is in their nature to skulk and creep and crawl. I certainly would, I am a soldier, it’s my job!”
Another murmur of agreement rippled around the court and Bishop Celyn realised he had lost that round. He tried another tack.
“So what did you do next?”
“We met up with Sergeant Penstock and Eric, more by accident than design. We agreed to check up on the Cardinal and if he was alive, then we agreed to arrange a trap for the assassin or assassins. When we found the cardinal asleep, we knew we were in time so we woke him and laid a trap.”
“With the Cardinal as bait.”
“He knew the risks, we explained everything to him. He agreed .”
“But you still risked his life.”
“We had to catch the assassin or assassins in the act, with a reliable witness. The cardinal was that witness. How would we prove anything unless we caught the criminals and had a witness?”
“The assassin came within a foot of murdering Cardinal Craklow.”
“Two feet,” Carl corrected him.
“That is too close, he almost succeeded.”
“It wasn’t too close and he didn’t succeed. Our trap worked, the plan worked.”
“You don’t think that two feet was too close? The cardinal wasn’t even armed.”
“An inch would have been too close, two feet is safe enough, even in the dark.”
“But you could not see.”
“I could feel; I chose to stand with one foot on a loose floorboard and my other knee against the bed. When the assassin stood on the other end of the floorboard and knelt on the bed, I knew he was there and struck out.”
“You were very fortunate that you caught his wrist, wasn’t that a lucky strike, it could have been one of your own men.”
“That remark shows what little you know of combat. Our plan addressed the darkness and the identity problem.”
“How?”
“That’s a secret I’m not prepared to divulge; to you at least. Enough to say the plan worked and if you claim it was a lucky strike then the luck was all with Lefty Tip-toe. If I hadn’t struck his wrist my blade would have swung through and caught him in the stomach, chest, neck or head. In any event, he would have been seriously injured or dead. We wanted him alive if we could. We were lucky; we got him alive with an injury only to his wrist.”
Once again, Bishop Celyn realised he was losing the argument and he hesitated nervously.
“D’you think it’s wise to go waving swords around in total darkness?”
“It was necessary, the assassin’s skewers could have easily killed any one of us at close quarters. I used my sword to keep him at least an arm’s length away. As I said earlier, the plan worked. He stands in the dock right there.”
“Do you still maintain it was an inside job?”
“Yes.” Carl answered bluntly.
“So you think my house-keeper helped him, we found no other suspects.”
The house-keeper let out a wail of despair and the court descended into uproar as the king called for silence. As calm returned the woman sobbed hysterically. Bishop Celyn smiled as he sensed he might have found a patsy. He repeated his question to Carl but worded it differently in a crude attempt to implicate the woman.
“So if the house-keeper helped the assassin that would explain the door being unlocked.”
“No.” Carl replied emphatically. “I didn’t mention anything about the house-keeper, anybody could have unlocked the door.”
“One of my guards perhaps.” The bishop suggested.
“I doubt that.” Carl added. “They would have to have obtained the key. When we followed the assassin into the house, the key was nowhere to be seen and nobody found it on the assassin. When the king’s guard searched for it they found it still on the house-keeper’s belt. The other key was by your bed. Only two people were in a position to have unlocked the door, you or your house-keeper.”
“So who do you think it could have been?”
Carl paused for effect the answered calmly and softly.
“You.”
Bishop Celyn almost screeched with rage as the court descended into uproar. After a minute the king managed to restore order and motioned to Bishop Celyn to continue.
“Are you accusing me!!!?”
“Yes.”
“How dare you! That is tantamount to blasphemy.”
“Not to me it isn’t, remember I’m still a pagan.”
“This is a Christian kingdom. The penalty for blasphemy is death. Pagan or Christian, anybody who abuses the name of God or his servants here on earth is guilty of Blasphemy!”
Carl shrugged then repeated.
“I know what I heard so does Guard’s-man Arthur. If the truth is deemed Blasphemy then your Christian faith must be a very peculiar set of beliefs and values. Just because a truth doesn’t sit comfortably with this court doesn’t make it a lie. If that were so it would be pointless holding this court.”
Bishop Celyn still refused to give up for he was now fighting for his life.
“Still, we only have your word and the guard’s-man’s for this.”
“And Lefty Tip-toe’s,” Carl added softly knowing that a peaceful, calm reply would have far greater effect.
A knowing silence settled on the court as a tension spread and the bishop tried one last tactic.
“Lefty Tip-toe would say anything to save his skin. Everybody knows he’s a thief and a liar.”
“He also knows he was caught bang to rights. He has nothing to lose by telling the truth and everything to gain.”
“He is to hang for murder,” the bishop scoffed, “he will say anything you want him to.”
“No,” Carl replied quietly and patiently again as he realised his testimony was having a lethal effect, “Lefty Tip-toe is being tried for attempted murder; he didn’t actually kill anybody!”
“It’s tantamount to the same thing, the evil is within him.”
“Again I must disagree. Your own book states ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ It says nothing about attempting to kill.”
“But further on in the book it clearly lays down the punishment.” The bishop crowed. "Tip-toe planned to kill so he is guilty, he shall hang.”
“That is not quite ‘an eye for an eye’,” Carl argued. “In old Saxon and Pagan law, such a crime would only incur a prison sentence or a fine; it’s your Christian law that demands death as a punishment.”
“Well he planned to murder the cardinal so for that he must be executed. That is our law!”
Carl paused again for effect then replied with devastating effect.
“Then so must you be executed, for you also planned to kill the Cardinal.”
Celyn paled and staggered as he realised his blunder while a snigger of consensus rippled around the court. Ethelred tapped lightly with his sword on the table as he called for order.
“Gentlemen, might I remind you that it is me that decides the convictions... and the punishments.”
~~oo000oo~~
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Archishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw, later Cardinal Craklow.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 55 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 52 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 54 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 53 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 56 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Ch 62 Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Ch 62 Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 63 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Jupus..... Ch 69 Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Ch 69 Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Ch 70 Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Ch 71 Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Ch 73 Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... Ch 72 The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Edrinor.... Ch 80. The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala.... Ch 80 Edrinor’s daughter
Celyn.... Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
Sergeant penstock... Ch 82 sergeant of the city guard.
Lefty Tip-toe.... Ch 82 Thief and assassin.
~~oo000oo~~
The trial of Lefty the Assassin is concluded and the two plotters are detained prior to sentencing.
The Angry mermaid 84
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 84.
After the king’s warning about who was judge and executioner, Bishop Celyn took the hint and finally resigned himself to being found guilty. After a few more innocuous questions he declared her had no more questions. It seemed to Bishop Celyn that every time he tried explore another avenue or try another tack he ended up in deeper trouble.
With the bishop falling uncharacteristically silent, King Ethelred decided to stop proceedings for the day and advised everybody that the following day he would be questioning Lefty Tip-toe.
That night, Ethelred shared his meal with only Drustina for company in the privacy of his chamber. The Cardinal, the earls and all the usual company of diners were left to eat together at the high table in the great hall whilst Ethelred’s throne and Drustina’s high seat were left significantly empty. The earls quizzed Cardinal Craklow and Sister Catherine but nobody had any idea why the two had chosen to dine together.
In truth Ethelred desperately needed to discuss the case with somebody who offered an alternative view. After the first day’s damming evidence that had definitely implicated Bishop Celyn, Ethelred was beginning to have doubts about the new faith. He expressed his doubts to Drustina for he knew her to be a Pagan with no friendship for the new church. One thing he could be certain of was that Drustina’s many travels and assorted encounters with other Christians would have given her a lot of insight. It worried him that after all her varied dealings with Christianity, she still remained firmly Pagan. In this vein, he sounded out her feelings.
“How many Christian bishops have you met and had to deal with Dru? May I call you Dru? I know Carl does.”
“Why d’you ask?” Drustina responded.
“Well, this case has destroyed my confidence in this new religion but, well, I find comfort in their prophet’s words, this Jesus fellow. Have you read his teachings?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m loath to ask you what you think because you remain so adamantly Pagan. What is your issue?”
Drustina stared almost mesmerised into the fire as she turned her bitter recollections over in her mind. The temporary loss of her first children, the condemnation as a freak and a monster, the attempts to kill her, the enforced piracy imposed upon nuns ... women; and a thousand other misogynistic incidents that had amounted to a brutally cruel, lifetime lesson that she could never forget. Ethelred waited patiently for he too was a cerebral man and willing to wait while the woman sat next to him gathered her thoughts. Eventually Drustina voiced her conclusion. She spoke slowly and softly for she found this usually the best way when a woman had a man’s full attention.
“They don’t treat women fairly.”
“Go on,” Ethelred encouraged her.
“Did you see the way that Bishop Celyn was more than prepared to implicate his house-keeper and did you see how terrified the woman was. As if she already knew she would have no hope of establishing her innocence, she knew her testimony would be given no credence, no weight, no consideration, and no fairness.”
Ethelred bristled slightly.
“What! By me you mean?”
“Frankly your majesty ... yes. By anybody in fact. Everybody in that courtroom with any clout, any status, any credibility, was a man.”
“But everybody who was a proper witness was a man.” Ethelred argued.
“No, the housekeeper was a witness, she could give evidence about the keys, about the doors being locked, about the Bishop’s visitors, about a hundred things but she was never called to give evidence, why not? She was never even allowed to defend herself, why not? Indeed if my commander Carl had not been so forthright ... and bold I must say. If Carl had not bluntly accused the bishop and established his guilt, the woman could have ended up being executed. Couldn’t you see she was terrified?”
“Well, yes ... but it’s in the nature of women to be fearful, to be frightened, and to be timid.”
“What; like me you mean!”
Drustina half laughed and half censured the king. Almost mirroring her dual gender in her reply.
The king frowned thoughtfully as he contemplated the legend sitting beside him and the unbelievable feats of military prowess she had achieved. He turned and squinted through thought wracked eyes.
“I suppose you’re right, she could give evidence.”
“There’s no could about it Sir, she should be allowed to speak. She might have some vital information, something nobody’s thought of. Don’t forget, nobody has more intimate or close association with the bishop and his activities than her. I’ll bet she even cleans up his papers and stuff after he has finished his clerical business.”
“Hmmm. That’s a thought. If I remember rightly she is high-born. Ugly but high born... that’s perhaps why she never married. Yes, I think she can read and write. And, if you’ll pardon my seeming prejudice, I think you’ll agree that women are every bit as nosey as men, if not more so.”
Drustina had to smile, ‘Ethelred was at least right on that score, women were certainly nosey, they had to be; men so rarely included them in their dealings.’ She nodded then added.
“Check what she knows about the Bishop’s most intimate dealings, she’s a woman, I’ll bet she knows a lot more than the bishop is prepared to admit to. Ask her in court tomorrow if she can read; if she can I’m willing to wager she’ll have a lot more information than the Bishop will admit to.”
Ethelred stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“I think I will! It’ll be very interesting if she can read and if she does reveal more than Celyn is prepared to admit to.”
Drustina leaned forward with more advice.
“Do it before you wade into Lefty. If you’ve got more ammunition from the housekeeper, Lefty will crumple even faster.”
“What do you think I should do with them ... execute them both?”
“Seems a waste, truth to tell, I could do with Lefty’s skills in my campaign against the Vikings, ridding my beloved Lleyn of their occupation. I’ll never know when I might need a skilled assassin.”
Ethelred’s jaw sagged as he gaped at Drustina before recovering his composure.
“What! You mean let him live? You mean let him work for you? D’you think you could trust him, he’s a killer, a sneak, and he’ll kill anybody for money.”
“Exactly Ethy! (It was the first time Drustina had ever used familiarity and she was quietly pleased that Ethelred had not objected to such intimacy.) I mean exactly that; he’ll do anything for money. If he has got loyalties; it’s to money!”
Ethelred grinned.
“Are you seriously suggesting I let him go, to kill again, to spread fear wherever he goes?”
“You’re missing the point Ethy. The last thing Lefty wants is for people to be afraid. If they are fearful, they are on their guard, doubly cautious about security and safety. That makes the assassin’s job doubly difficult. His job is killing, for money; make it easier and he’ll do it for less. Where I’m going, there’ll be a lot of killing, I’ll need killers. The Vikings owe me big time, my grand-parents, my father, my brothers, my sister, cousins, aunts and uncles; big time!”
“Are you serious, you don’t want me to execute him?”
“Yes, I’m quite serious. Don’t execute him, offer him bondsman to me, I’ll wager you a crown he’ll take your offer.”
“How will I get that past the Cardinal, he’ll want the death penalty for both of them.”
“Well, Carl touched upon a good enough excuse yesterday. By the old Pagan Saxon code which is like our Celtic code; you can pay off some less serious crimes; either become a bondsman or slave or even just pay a large compensation indenture to the widow or parents or even the children of the victim. The reason we do this is because the severe climate means our society is always close to the bread-line. Look about you now as winter grips the land; our communities need every useful hand to turn the tide of the elements. People are too valuable to simply execute for every crime or misdemeanour. The loss to the community is often too great, especially if the perpetrator is ordinarily a useful member but temporarily lost his ... or her reason in a fit of anger or despair. Remember how Carl and I let Gisela’s rapists live to work like gelded horses for their community. They will never rape again, they can’t but they can work, they can be useful to their community."
Ethelred frowned thoughtfully.
“I’m not so sure Dru. I mean Bishop Celyn would be no good as a labourer or a tradesman. D’you think Cardinal Craklow will accept my allowing either of them to live? He's pretty disgusted and angry and frightened.”
Drustina smiled.
“You leave the cardinal to me Ethy, he and I go way, way back!”
Ethelred stared thoughtfully at the woman beside him.
“How would you persuade him my lady?”
“I’ve done it before. Cardinal Craklow is a kind and caring man. He and I pleaded to the Polish King for amnesty for Sister Catherine and her nuns after the piracy episode. Craklow is a man on a mission. He knows he has to change the mindset of many bishops from that of obstinate brutality to compassionate temperance. He’s got plenty of early Christian missionaries to use as examples, Augustine, David, Patrick to name but a few. Leave Craklow to me. If I tell him I’ll convert to Christianity if his church stops persecuting women, he’ll count that prize as the highest jewel in his evangelistic crown.”
“Would you do that Dru, after all the misogynistic cruelties and persecutions you’ve experienced and witnessed, would you convert?”
“It’s not a faith issue for me Ethy; it’s a social issue, an ethical issue,; a trade off even. I deal in realities like war and death, fair play and justice. Women face the reality of persecution all the time by this new faith but I want to change that. Treat women fairly, treat all people fairly, even if, they are like me and deemed God’s mistakes.”
“Is that how you see yourself Dru; one of God’s mistakes. God doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Right, so that makes me what, a test piece, some sort of divine, evangelical trial to make holy men look inwards and examine their prejudices. I see myself as a woman, but a woman warrior; and woe betide anybody who crosses me.”
Ethelred smiled as he replied.
“Well amen to that Dru, nobody can deny you are a warrior.”
“Well if I’ve addressed some of your concerns, I’ll count that as a job done. Are there any other problems?”
“No. Not for the moment. Thanks for your thoughts.”
Ethelred nodded with no small satisfaction. Tomorrow would be a monumental day and he was surprised to find himself looking forward to it.
‘What was it about this incredible queen that so made problems somehow look small or even disappear altogether?’ He asked himself as they finished their meal and joined the others in the great hall for an hour of socialising before finding their beds.
The next morning Lefty was brought into the court where Carl and Drustina were pleased to see that he showed no signs of bruising or injury though he certainly looked scared. This time King Ethelred himself led the questioning. To everybody’s surprise before Lefty was questioned, Ethelred invited the housekeeper to come forward.
After his previous night’s fireside chat with Drustina, Ethelred checked carefully for any signs of fear or dread emanating from the woman. There were plenty for Ethel was shaking physically. Ethelred was both ashamed to learn of this and also angry that women should be so distrustful of his court. As a cerebral and pious man, he had always prided himself upon the type of justice he had always meted out.
Once again, (The Lioness of Carthage had opened his eyes.)
Ethelred could not help but let his gaze wander briefly towards Drustina who had deliberately chosen a none-descript seat right at the back so as to divert attention from her being there. Their eyes met for less than a second but it reinforced everything Drustina had spoken of about women and their station in the new Monotheist Christian order. At that very moment Ethelred swore to balance the scales; at least in his kingdom if nowhere else. He started to question the woman.
~o000o~
“You are Ethel the Bishop Celyn’s housekeeper.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“I am told you have letters.”
“I do sir.”
Ethelred silently noted that the woman had been taught court etiquette somewhere for she knew how to address the king. He continued.
“So you read and write.”
“Yes sir.”
“Did you ever read Bishop Celyn’s private correspondence?”
Ethel hesitated fearfully. It was unusual at best and almost deemed witchcraft by the new faith for women who were little more than domestic servants to be able to read and write. Such skills were usually found only amongst the highest ladies of the land. Ethel was waiting for the next question demanding where she had learned to read and write. It never came as Ethelred smiled benignly.
“It’s alright Mistress Ethel. I am only determining if you were in a position to know anything about the bishop’s affairs. The function of this court is to try and find the truth. Did you ever read the bishop’s correspondence?”
Ethel gulped nervously then nodded before she rushed to explain.
“I worked occasionally as his secretary. When his curate was away attending to the flock or visiting his parents, the bishop sometimes asked me to work in the curate’s stead.”
“So Bishop Celyn knew you could read and write.”
“It was no secret within the bishop’s household your majesty. I kept house and did the accounts for food and cleaning.”
“Exactly,” Ethelred nodded. “So did you ever see the bishop in the company of Lefty Tip-toe?”
The housekeeper hesitated as she glanced nervously towards the bishop. His defeated demeanour reassured her and she eventually nodded before replying.
“I saw them once some nights ago. The bishop seemed upset about something and had refused his dinner. I had prepared his favourite meal to share with the Cardinal but the bishop refused it and left the kitchen after scolding me. The cardinal ate alone in his rooms while the bishop went out into the town. I heard him returning after dark but I didn’t inquire if he wanted any food for I had left some food out for him. Later I heard talking in the kitchen and became curious as to who could be in there at such a late hour. I had business in the kitchen to see if the bishop had eaten and to clean up if he had. To find out if the food was finished and to find out who the bishop was talking to, I entered the kitchen. On entering, I encountered the bishop talking to Lefty. They were not best pleased that I had interrupted them. The bishop snapped at me to get out.”
“And this was when.”
“The night before the murder attempt.”
“Did you see Lefty again?”
“No.”
“Thank you mistress Ethel. Is there anybody else who would like to question the witness?”
A deafening silence settled on the court then Carl spoke up.
“How many set’s of keys are there to the Palace?”
“Two. Mine and the bishop’s. The captain of the guard also has the keys to the gatehouse and barrack-rooms but none of the residential keys.”
“Is the gatehouse normally locked?”
“Only after midnight or when the off-duty guards return. The off-duty guards go into the city most nights. When they return, the captain locks up the gatehouse and I let him into the palace with my key. Then we share some bread and wine before retiring... to our individual beds I mean.”
A soft titter rippled around the court room but Ethelred let it die naturally. Mistress Ethel was released and Lefty Tip-toe was brought forward.
Ethelred grilled him thoroughly for an hour but only to re-establish what had already been determined and to describe his part. He had already admitted to the attempt for he had been caught red handed by no less a group as the Cardinal, the Saxon, the Sergeant and the two guard’s-men. After establishing the facts and some additional surprising circumstances, Ethelred closed the court and told those interested to return in two days time.
This act alone served to intrigue many who had attended the court because normally in times recent, the verdict would have been arrived at immediately and the sentence announced immediately. It also served to confuse the two plotters for they had fully expected to be taken out and summarily executed, there and then. That said, both the bishop and the assassin were each led away to the city prison to await their fate.
~~oo000oo~~
Hello readers, as a result of some readers expressing their distaste at having to rumble down the Character list to arrive at the Kudo button.
Ever willing to try and please others I have adopted another ploy, namely I've posted this address hereinunder, (That sounds posh doesn't it?) AM 85 will simply have this string of strange unintelligible letters instead of a readable character list.
Bevs.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Archishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw, later Cardinal Craklow.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 55 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 52 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 54 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 53 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 56 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Ch 62 Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Ch 62 Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 63 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Jupus..... Ch 69 Carl’s stallion.
Heliox..... Ch 69 Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Ch 70 Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Ch 71 Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Ch 73 Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... Ch 72 The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Edrinor.... Ch 80. The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala.... Ch 80 Edrinor’s daughter
Celyn.... Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
Sergeant penstock... Ch 82 sergeant of the city guard.
Lefty Tip-toe.... Ch 82 Thief and assassin.
Ethel Ch 84 Bishop Celyn’s housekeeper.
In this chapter the plotters Lefty Tip-toe and Bishop Celyn learn their sentences. Drustina gets married to Carl and is finally delivered of her twins.
This chapter is something of an interconnecting step towards Drustina's onward ambitions to recover her homeland Lleyn.
The Angry mermaid 85
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 85
After the court hearing ended just before midday, King Ethelred retired for Lunch with the Cardinal. He wanted to test Drustina’s words that the Cardinal was truly a compassionate man who actually followed the teachings of the holy man called Jesus. With this intention he started a discussion about suitable punishments and was secretly pleased that Drustina’s assessment of Cardinal Craklow’s was pretty accurate.
Instead of immediately demanding the death penalty for both transgressors the cardinal simply steepled his fingers and sat back thoughtfully for long minutes before he finally answered the king.
“I’m sensing that your ancient Saxon traditions are somehow persuading you against executing these men.”
Ethelred nodded as he sipped some beer.
“Well, because you haven’t simply demanded the death-penalty outright Cardinal, I’ll come clean with you. A certain young queen has had some influence upon my thoughts concerning this case.”
Cardinal Craklow smiled and chuckled.
“Hah, I should have guessed. A remarkable lady is our Drustina.”
Ethelred nodded sagely and smiled.
“She told me about the case of Sister Catherine and the piracy business. She told me you impressed her with your compassion and understanding for the nun’s plight and how you persuaded the king of Polanda to stay their executions while you and she investigated the true facts.”
“Yes, I have to admit, that young lady always strives to determine the facts. She impressed me then and she still impresses me; especially when she comes up with innovative solutions and punishments.”
The cardinal’s eyes suddenly brightened and widened as he sensed what was afoot.
“Wait a minute. Has she got some sort of solution already, something to do with sentencing these criminals, she's got a hidden agenda or something?”
Ethelred’s grin widened as he nodded slowly.
“Uuuhm, yes.”
The cardinal nodded slowly before replying.
“Go on; what is she up to?”
“Well I think perhaps you might let her tell you that.” Ethelred replied. “She’s available to talk if you’re interested.”
“Oh, so I’m to be granted an audience am I?” The cardinal chuckled again.
Ethelred let out a belly laugh as he added.
“Well she is a full queen in her own right cardinal and I might add a very powerful one. Can you think of a single figure in these post Roman times who has actually won the loyalty and respect of Saxons, Angles, Mercians, Gauls, Fresians, Franks, Celts, Danes, Poles and Svensk... oh, and Iberians, Portuans, Carthaginians, Egyptians, Constantines and Bulgars?”
“Not to mention the Russ and the Slovaks,” Cardinal Craklow added with a wag of reluctant belief.
“Exactly Cardinal. I’ve taken the liberty of asking her to wait in my personal chambers. The seat is comfortable in there and her baby weighs heavy with her now.”
The cardinal smiled an almost fatherly smile.
“I must see her, she never fails to impress me; her political awareness is acute and exquisitely sharp. Lead on your majesty, into the lioness’s den if we must.”
The pair were smiling as they entered and Drustina turned in the chair to smile back. She started to stand but Ethelred waved his hand to settle her.
“No, stay seated Dru. The cardinal would hear your thoughts.”
Drustina nodded and settled again as she eased her ‘bump’ while the men took their seats. Cardinal Craklow eyed her belly thoughtfully.
“You are large for seven and a half months.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s twins ... again.” Drustina sighed resignedly.
“Well I hope everything goes well for you Lioness. Are you happy to tell me of your concerns regarding these criminals?”
Drustina glanced towards Ethelred who confirmed that he had mentioned that Drustina had ideas about Lefty Tip-toe. He also added that Cardinal Craklow did not necessarily require the death penalty and that he was agreeable to hearing Drustina’s ideas. .
“So what are these plans my lady?” The cardinal asked.
“Firstly Cardinal, I must say I am glad you have proven me to be right. I had you for a compassionate, considerate man. Men like you will be important to this church of yours if you are to spread this man Jesus’ word in the true spirit; that is forgiveness and mercy.”
“That is my intention Lioness, I know of the hurt you have suffered at the hands of previous priests. I can understand your reluctance to come on board.”
“Well that’s for another time cardinal. For now let us find some solution to the Lefty and Bishop Celyn situation. Let me say now, I think I can offer a satisfactory solution to the assassin’s crimes but I’m afraid only you or King Ethelred can address those crimes of your bishop.”
“Well let’s discuss the assassin question first; I feel your observations there might give me some ideas about Celyn.”
Drustina wasted no time; she found that getting to the point seemed to work better than beating around the bush when dealing with powerful men. They wanted to arrive at simple solutions that were easy to instate.
“Right; bluntly Cardinal, I deal in war and battles, or at least, I seem to have done so up to now when dealing with big issues. Sadly it seems, arguments between men are like arguments between nations they are rarely resolved until one side or the other gets to enforce their will, usually by violence.
Even more sadly it seems that violence and war will continue to be my lot until or unless I finally drive the Vikings out of Lleyn; out of all Cymru even, for that matter.”
“Go on,” Cardinal Craklow encouraged her.
“Well frankly cardinal, I need men skilled in killing. Am I not a dealer in death myself? A warrior queen they call me but in truth that means death, killing ... that's the bottom line.”
“So you want to free this murderer only to set him free to kill again.”
“Well no not exactly, I noticed you dozing; that is you were not listening to my partner Carl in the court when he corrected Bishop Celyn. Lefty Tip-toe has not, to our certain knowledge, killed anybody. Though I think we’ll all agree we’re pretty sure he has in times past?”
Cardinal Craklow nodded.
“Go on, lioness, so you want to take this man into your ranks, to your bosom even?”
“Uuuhm, not that close Cardinal. I haven’t won his loyalty yet, I might never win it. His only loyalty is to money! But I think I can use him even if I can't fully trust him. Can I have him, would you object to my enlisting him into my modest little army?”
“I suppose not, worse men have been enlisted ... forcibly.”
“He’ll be fighting Vikings Cardinal. Vikings who are the enemies of your faith.” Drustina tempted him.
“Well if you put it that way I suppose he’ll be put to some good use. Would it were that easy dealing with this damned bishop.
Any ideas there Lioness?”
“You could make him a missionary; send him north to covert the Scots or the Picts. That will really test his faith; the hardships might also temper his attitudes. Especially if he finds himself trying to convert some Vikings. That will really test his faith and he’ll be out of Ethelred’s hair.”
“Aye! Now there’s an idea!” Ethelred added enthusiastically. “The further north, the better!”
Cardinal Craklow sucked his cheek thoughtfully.
“Suppose it could work. How would he get there?”
Drustina grinned.
“You’re forgetting something Cardinal, this spring, I hope to be heading north up the Celtic sea to Lleyn ... going home no less. I could easily drop Celyn off on the southern shores of Scotia. From there he would be on his own.”
“But don’t the Vikings rule that sea?” Craklow frowned.
Drustina’s expression became sober as she spoke softly to reinforce her intent.
“I deal in death Cardinal. Win or lose, live or die, I expect to have to fight, and win ... or lose, to claim back my home lands and home waters.”
With this damper set upon the conversation Drustina indicated she wanted to get up and take a nap. Ethelred quickly stepped forward to help her and she grinned.
“Thanks Ethy. See you this evening.”
As she retired the Cardinal waited for the door to close before some last remarks to the King.
“There goes one hell of a lady. Not sure I could ever face death with such equanimity.”
“She’s nothing to lose except her life and everything to fight for.” Ethelred replied. “Celts have a very deep bond with their soil. I think it goes back to their association with the oak tree and the druidic times. I don’t think her ambitions stretch beyond recovering that homeland she pines for. God forbid if she ever coveted Wessex.”
The cardinal smiled inwardly as he reflected.
“Wessex be damned! That queen could capture the whole Roman Empire... good job she’s on our side — I think.”
~~oo000oo~~
When Lefty Tip-toe learned of his fate he was both relieved and worried. Ecstatic that he was to keep his life yet fearful of the immediate future. He pestered his gaoler who was a member of the city guard and a good friend of Sergeant Penstock. The sergeant decided to have a bit of fun and spread a rumour that The Lioness had a suicide mission planned. When he came one day to talk to the gaoler, the sergeant intimated to Lefty that the mission was imminent. For days, lefty was left worrying and sleepless as he wondered his fate.
“Good enough for the sneaky little bugger!” The sergeant remarked to the goaler as Lefty stewed alone in his cell.
Similarly, Bishop Celyn was left to fret about his fate but the cardinal had decided to let him also stew in his own ignorance as winter melted into spring and Drustina’s time approached.
During those days, the cardinal married Carl and Drustina amidst much rejoicing throughout the city. Drustina and Carl wrote their own vows that dwelled especially on Drustina’s unique circumstances both as a warrior queen and as a dual person, a unique individual blessed with the twin gifts of giving and receiving life. Cardinal Craklow even made a particular reference to Drustina’s duality associating it with her great achievements and declaring for all present to learn that her duality was a unique present from God sent to benefit all who dealt with her because of the extra insights and wisdom it gave her. After the ceremony Drustina spoke privately to the cardinal.
“By this God of yours Cardinal; you make me sound like one of your angels. I’m only human sir! Cut me, do I not bleed?”
The cardinal reached out and hugged the Lioness to him.
“By my God Drustina, you are like an angel. And Carl.”
“Yes Cardinal?”
“Look after this wife of yours; she’s special as no other woman is!!”
Eventually, as March arrived so did Drustina’s time.
~~oo000oo~~
“Aaargh!! If I ever get my bloody sword against his belly I’ll split the bastard open!” She screamed as the birth pains came upon her.
She had been in Labour for twelve hours as the contractions closened until finally the healer declared she could feel the head.
“Plenty of hot water now!” Carl demanded of the surrounding maids and as he sat with his new wife and generally tried to comfort her.
It is well known truth that men are rarely the ones who should try and comfort a woman in her birth-pains when all women know it is men who cause them! Carl was no exception and he received the full ire of Drustina’s hurt despite him not being the specific cause. Men as a whole, were the cause and that was reason enough in Drustina’s traumatised mind!
“Who the hell are you to demand hot water you stupid fucking lummox!!! Don’t expect my supporters to carry the bloody buckets! Go and get the hot water your-fucking-self ... and a sharp, clean bloody knife as well. Much as this healer knows her herbs and what-have-you, I’ll warrant she knows damned little about hot clean water. Move!!! You bloody great oaf!! Fucking move...Aaargh!”
As Carl scampered off, Drustina gave full vent to her agonies.
“Damn all men, damn them to hell!!! Aaargh damn them to hell! I’ll cut his balls off before he causes this again. Aaargh!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! What do they know? What do men fucking know...Aaargh! Ooowwooh!!
The healer looked up, startled by the unladylike outburst and profusion of foul-mouthed swear-words but she had seen and heard it all before. No woman was a lady in her birth pains. She worked carefully to support the baby’s head then looked up over Drustina’s distended belly and smiled
“It’s a girl my lady, a beautiful girl!”
Drustina just let her head fall back as the healer cleared the new-born’s mouth and the first angry wail burst forth from tiny but lusty lungs. The strength of the cry told Drustina that the child was alive and probably well. She looked across as Carl returned with the water and the knife and she reached out. Carl hesitated then Drustina grabbed the knife impatiently.
“Pass the bloody hot water stupid! Let me wash the knife!”
He held up the bucket and she dipped the knife into the water while the healer tied two knots around the umbilical. Drustina knew to cut between the two knots and did so as her daughter continued screaming lustily. One glance at the healer from Drustina told the healer it was done. . She handed the child to Drustina who placed the child on her chest before realising that a second baby was kicking inside her. Even as Drustina realised it, the healer also felt the kick and their eyes met. Mutually they said almost the same words.
“It is twins!”
“Here Lummox. Take my daughter, I have another battle!”
Carl held the daughter as though it was made of glass until Drustina’s Sister Tara gently relieved him of responsibility.
“Give her here, you don’t hold a baby like that you idiot, support her head! Like this!”
Carl stepped again to the edge of the bed even as Drustina started to ‘push’ again. The cursing started again and he hesitated uncertainly until the healer grinned.
“Don’t worry Saxon, all mothers go through this. I’m surprised you’ve got the stomach for it. Most men run a mile!”
“I promised the Cardinal I’d look after her and I will.”
“See that you do! Did you all hear that ladies!?”
There was a crescendo of approval and threat as all the attending women witnessed Carl’s vow. Then proceedings were suspended as Drustina’s cries quickly superseded all other events. Carl dashed off to get another bucket of hot water while the women quickly started to fuss and coo over the firstborn. All except Tara who joined the healer in soothing Drustina’s brow and washing the sweat as it poured from every pore. This time Carl arrived in plenty of time with his bucket of water and the knife was well washed as Drustina commenced parturition proper. The healer gave the knife to Carl and invited him to stand between his wife’s legs as the head started to emerge.
"I’ll support the baby as it emerges then once it cries, tie the cord as you saw me do it then you or Drustina can cut. Your wife is right to wash the knife in boiling water; I have also heard that it is important to be clean.”
Carl gasped as the baby’s head finally emerged and the healer gently supported the newborn as Drustina gave one huge and final gasp of relief. As the healer cleared the baby’s mouth and held him up, the baby boy let out a raucous wail of protest. Carl bent forward, poised with the knife and the healer nodded. He tied the two knots as he’d seen the healer do previously then he offered the knife to Drustina, she wagged her head as exhaustion overtook her.
“No, you cut it, make yourself useful for once!”
Tara grinned as she mopped her sister’s brow and Carl gingerly cut the cord. The healer then took the bawling boy and passed him to the attending ladies. Symone and Gisela moved in closer to watch and learn for as young teen-agers they knew that one day, their turns would come. Even Gisela knew this for though she was a worshiper of Sappho, she still wanted a child and she knew with Drustina’s protection, her wish could be legitimately fulfilled.
‘Had not the lioness herself now born four children without being wedded to the fathers?’ Gisela reassured herself.
As the babies were cleaned and swaddled Drustina finally slept after her placentas were shed. Carl was left with one important task, informing the king and cardinal that Drustina was delivered of twins, a girl and a boy ... again.
That evening, as the babies took their first milk, Morgan and Amethyst were introduced to their new siblings. Both the older twins stood transfixed with delight as they realised they had another brother and sister.
~~oo000oo~~
Instead of a long Character list and Gazzette, I have taken the advice of some other readers and posted a link to the Character list below. (It was getting rather cumbersome.)
Bevs.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Having resolved the issues surrounding the attempt on the Cardinal's life, Drustina occupies herself educating the very naíve Mercian Princess Solana about being a woman and about the ways of men.
The Angry Mermaid 86
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 86
After Drustina was delivered of her twins the delayed preparations for the consecration of the great Winchester church were resumed.
Bishop Celyn was still being detained until Drustina and Carl were ready to take their forces around the Dumnonii peninsular then north to Lleyn. Cardinal Craklow had decided to remain in Wessex because several very important and auspicious events were approaching. More importantly, The Mercian King Edrinor had become much more communicative towards Ethelred and enthusiastic about Ethelred marrying his sister Princess Sonala. He had even allowed his sister to visit King Ethelred in Wessex as a precursor to their intended marriage.
This was a consequence of Drustina asking her sister Tara to visit King Edrinor and extend the invitation to Sonala to visit the Saxon kingdom. After two weeks travelling to the Mercian Kingdom, Tara had conveyed the letter from Drustina explaining that Sonala would be chaperoned by the Lioness’s sister no less while she became better acquainted with Ethelred. Drustina’s letter was accompanied by a letter from Cardinal Craklow explaining that no less a person than the cardinal himself would conduct the royal wedding ceremony in the newly consecrated cathedral church.
Carl and several Saxon earls including Althred the young naval commander accompanied Tara as an escort and their visit served to cement solid relations between the Mercians and the Saxons. Whilst princess Sonala became excited at the prospects of visiting Wessex, the Mercian King Edrinor simply pumped Carl and Althred almost to exhaustion for stories about Drustina’s adventures.
“This lioness must be something incredible!” Edrinor enthused, “I simply can’t wait to meet her.”
Carl felt slightly embarrassed by Edrinor’s almost child-like enthusiasm and even Althred glanced askance towards Carl as the king described highly exaggerated versions of Drustina’s various and many battles. Several times Carl tried to gently enlighten Edrinor that this had not happened or that wasn’t exactly true but it seemed nothing could dampen the Mercian King’s enthusiasm. During the time of Princess Sonala’s preparations to travel to Wessex, poor Carl and Althred’s heads ached with the constant demands by Edrinor to tell yet another tale from the Drustina sagas. They were secretly glad when the royal procession was prepared and Princess Sonala bid her brother King Edrinor bye, bye. Tara was mildly surprised that Solana had no female attendants besides her but she did not question it. Different countries had different customs.
On the return journey it was Sonala’s turn to badger Carl and Althred about the Lioness’s battles and victories for she had already exhausted Tara about Drustina’s unusual, dual attributes. When the royal procession finally returned to Winchester, Carl, Tara and Althred were exhausted. As soon as Princess Sonala was handed over to Ethelred’s safe-keeping Carl almost staggered into Drustina’s chambers and collapsed on the bed. At the time Drustina was nursing her infants while the older twins were having a lesson from Sister Catherine. Carl didn’t even notice as he crashed, still girded for battle, onto the lioness’s bed.
Drustina smiled indulgently but didn’t stop suckling her twins.
“Bad journey was it darling?”
Carl opened one tired eye and replied wearily.
“By the gods, that Mercian Princess can talk! She never stopped! All the way from Mercia, questions, questions, bloody questions. I tell you Dru, somebody ought to start chronicling your bloody story! The bullshit that’s out there, you wouldn’t believe!”
Drustina grinned.
“Ten feet tall am I? With a long scaly tail I suppose; and a giant cock.”
“Well not that bad but you know ... lionesses are reputed to have tails, twitchy, swishy, fluffy ones.”
Drustina smiled wryly.
“Yeah, well a lioness’s tail helps her to keep her balance; though my duality might be a better balance weight.” Drustina continue. “I suppose there’s all sorts of shit being said about that.”
“Oh don’t even go there. You definitely need a chronicler. “
“Well that’s not likely to happen. Come the early summer I’m definitely resuming my travels. I owe that to my family and my tribe.”
Carl sucked his lip thoughtfully.
“D’you mean sailing the complete fleet straight into the Viking controlled Celtic sea or just The Angry Mermaid as a sort of secret recce’?”
Drustina chuckled, Carl was winding her up.
“I’m not stupid Carl; it’ll be a full year of secret reconnoitring. I know the Celtic sea like the back of my hand, every inlet, every beach every headland. I’ll be like a ghost. Black sails and blackened hull. Sail by night ... lay-up by day; you know the drill.”
Carl nodded. “Do to the Vikings what they did to your people.”
“Exactly, but my ship is faster and stealthier. Are you prepared to come with me?”
“Of course! Why on earth did you need to ask?”
She smiled at him and spread her arms invitingly as a tear forced its way to her eye.
“Make love to me.”
Carl hesitated and glanced towards the older twins and Sister Catherine. The ex nun smiled as she gathered Morgan and Amethyst to her before calling Gisela and Symone to collect the newborns. With her chamber clear, Drustina nodded significantly towards the bedroom door.
“You’d better lock that.”
Carl squinted uncertainly.
“Are you sure you’re ready. It’s only been a couple of months.”
Drustina’s heart almost melted for him. It was a rare man who was so solicitous of a woman’s condition after bearing her babes. Drustina was truly ready both in body and spirit.
“Of course I’m ready, just don’t squeeze my breasts, they’re full of milk.”
Carl locked the door then started to strip. Drustina followed suit. Finally each stood naked and hugging the other as they gently fingered each other’s burn scars. This unique intimacy had become the precursor to their lovemaking. Each explored the other’s most painful and intimate deformity as a declaration of their most extreme need and mutuality. The level of this tactile intimacy was almost as deep as the actual intercourse because it reinforced their mutual bonds of support and dependency. Eventually Carl would feel Drustina’s tears damp on his shoulder and he knew the girl in his arms was emotionally ready to take things further. Somehow Drustina needed this intense level of emotion to surmount her inherent aggression and by-pass her masculinity. Finally she would surrender her body utterly to the only one who would ever be allowed to take her missionary fashion. Carl was the only man she could trust to enter her femininity without being revolted by her maleness. Drustina’s trust had been forged in the brutal crucible of war; battles where she and Carl had fought and struggled both beside each other and separately in parallel battles as each fought to serve the others aims and needs. That trust was now the enabler that let Drustina surrender and open like a flower.
Carl knew this and as Drustina lay wantonly on her back with her parts vulnerable yet inviting, he probed delicately with his manhood. Her slippery lips told Carl his wife was ready and willing. Once this hiatus was reached, they would gently manoeuvre their parts then lie carefully on the bed as their union was commenced.
From that moment onwards throughout the rest of their lovemaking, Drustina was his utterly; for only Carl knew to pay no heed to the incongruous hardness pressing against his flat hard belly. Drustina knew she did not need to fear any revulsion or rejection from this man, this powerful, muscular, battle scarred, companion who had stayed beside her sometimes almost to the point of death. Their bond wasn’t lust, it was trust. This trust was expressed by Drustina in the most extreme manner; she allowed her soul-mate to lie on top, to cover her and possess her as she spread her legs and made herself totally his. Carl reinforced that trust by never hurting her or crushing her while yet enabling Drustina to wrap her legs tight around him and take what was rightfully hers... his seed. That part of him that would one day bind with her part and grow a new life within her that was both her and Carl’s flesh... attached to her and part of her, whilst yet being also a part of Carl.
That conception would be yet though, not while her milk flowed, not while her new twins fed off her and more importantly; not before she had at least tried to recover her homeland Lleyn.
They stayed thus joined for much time until Carl rolled slowly off his partner and settled to snore softly on his side of the bed. Drustina forgave him this for she knew he had just completed a long difficult journey. In silence she lay beside him briefly as she gently stroked his burn; then she had to get up as nature called. Carefully she slipped out of the bed and threw a gown around her as she skipped lightly out of her chamber towards the women’s bath already prepared for the royal afternoon bath-time.
After relieving herself, she peered into the bathroom and noted with some pleasure that it was unoccupied; she would have ‘first dibs’. Eagerly she clambered into the tub and luxuriated peacefully in the hot water for fully ten minutes until she was eventually disturbed by another bather.
The princess Sonala entered the female bathroom without realising the tub was occupied and she gave a squeak when she saw Drustina’s head below the rim. For a moment the princess was annoyed that her royal privileges and privacy were being invaded
“Hey! I am the princess Sonala and I am here to bathe. Who are you and what right do you have to bathe during the royal bath-time?”
Drustina turned and as her wet, golden hair fell across the other shoulder, her scarred neck and burned ear were exposed. Sonala gasped.
“Ah! Oh my God! It’s you, the lioness; the warrior queen. I’m sorry your majesty!”
Seeing a face that she had never seen before and hearing an accent that she had never heard before Drustina quickly concluded the newcomer was the Mercian Princess Sonala. Only the king’s royal female guests were entitled to use the royal washing facilities during the afternoon hours.
“I am indeed darling, but please join me. The water is hot and sweet and still fairly clean.”
Sonala was still nervous that she might have offended the illustrious warrior queen and she stood hesitantly.
“I am sorry your majesty. Please forgive me, I didn’t realise.”
“Oh tosh woman! Get in before the water freezes.”
“You are not offended then?”
“Of course not. Come in and we can chat!”
The Princess Sonala was so upset by her faux pas and so unsettled that she completely forgot about the Lioness’s reputed duality. All she saw was the long golden-blond hair, the beautiful face and the suggestion of a scar up the back of the Lioness’s head and neck. The burnt ear was invisible under the crowning head of golden hair. She smiled nervously and double checked.
“Are you sure it is all right to join you. I haven’t offended you have I?”
“May the gods forbid girl. I’ve bathed with a lot worse than a mere royal princess. Get in before the bloody tub freezes!”
Reassured, Sonala stepped gingerly into the large tub while Drustina rang for more hot water. As Sonala settled with the water covering her bosom, the servants arrived in procession to add several buckets of hot water to the tub. Buckets were added until the heat was just bearable then Drustina dismissed all but one maid.
“You had best attend us, Aeltea but first call my sister Tara to join us. I think a chaperone would be decorous, the princess here must maintain an un-impeachable reputation.”
“Yes ma’am.”
It was only then that Solana remembered the stories of the Lioness’s duality. She gasped.
“Oh my God, I will be undone!”
“Don’t be silly girl; we will have two chaperones, my sister Tara and young Aeltea here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara also brings my older daughter Amethyst. The girl always loves to bath with her aunty and mother.”
Within seconds of Aeltea calling across the corridor, Tara appeared with Amethyst whose grin widened with delight as she spotted her mum. The girl threw her clothes off then plunged in without any reservations and surfaced right alongside her mother as Sonala squealed with surprised amusement.
“Hey! Stop splashing you tinker!”
Amethyst twisted in her mother’s arms and turned to apologise until she saw Sonala’s beaming grin. Then she giggled and all formality was lost. Sonala found herself thoroughly enjoying the intimacy as the maids returned with another charge of hot water and soon the girls were lathering each other’s bodies. Drustina however made one thing clear to Sonala.
“I wash my own private parts Sonala, the reason should be obvious.”
“Oh Pooh!” The princess sulked, “I was hoping for an anatomy lesson.”
Tara gasped with amused embarrassment while Drustina pulled a wry smile.
“You’d get a very confusing lesson if you used me as your test piece young lady. Don’t even go there.”
Sonala hesitated; fearful she might have crossed a line.
“I’m sorry ... it’s just, well, it’s ... you know; royal princess and all that. I’ve never seen a man’s thing. My brother and I weren’t even allowed to bathe together as little children. This is the first time I’ve ever bathed with another person since my mother died. I was six!”
Drustina squinted uncertainly.
“What, you know nothing?”
Sonala wagged her head and Drustina began to wonder just how ignorant the princess was; she took another tack.
“Do you know how babies are born? Do you know how they are made!?”
Sonala wagged her head again causing Tara to flash a warning to Drustina, fearful that her younger sister might overstep some mark, some line of decency that might come to haunt her at a future date.
“Careful sis, those matters are for the healers to explain.”
Drustina snorted contemptuously.
“Dammit Sis, Sonala’s nearly nineteen! Her brother the Mercian king is only twenty three. If the Mercian healers or ladies of the court have not told the poor girl by now, who the hell will!? The poor kid is getting married this summer!”
Drustina turned to Sonala and asked.
“Are you frightened about having babies, do you know how they come?”
Sonala nodded to the first question then croaked.
“I don’t know how they come, I only know that mummy died having my little sister and she died as well. One day Mummy was playing with me in the bath and she put my hand on her tummy. I felt my little sister move inside her tummy. That night there was some sort of panic and the next morning mummy and the baby were dead. She would have been a girl. I must have killed my mother and sister
when I pressed her tummy. I’m frightened it might happen to me. God might punish me!”
Drustina rolled her eyes in despair then glanced at Sonala thoughtfully.
“Be assured Princess, you did NOT kill your mother and sister!!! Was your mummy very small?”
“Yes.”
“But you are quite a normal size and well shaped. You shouldn’t have trouble bearing your babies.”
“But how?” Sonala whispered nervously. “How do they come out? I know they grow inside my tummy but ... a baby is so big; how?”
It some effort for Drustina to keep her composure. The princesses’ ignorance was depressing. It seemed that since the death of her mother, the Mercian court had been run entirely by men; her father and brother who viewed the Princess Sonala as little more than a pawn, a bargaining counter to trade off against whosoever could benefit Mercia the most either defensively or offensively. When her father the old king had died her brother had carried on in a like vein. The princess had simply been treated as some sort of breeding device to cement the security of her brother’s kingdom. So valuable was this political consideration that the Princess had been held in virtual isolation with no contemporaries to grow up with and her only educators being scholars and priests. The girl knew almost nothing about being a woman! Even the onset of her menarche had come as a terrifying shock with little or no explanation except to tell her that sudden bleeding from her body was normal and to ‘get on with it’.
As Drustina struggled to find the words to firstly calm the girl and secondly disguise her own shock, Tara stepped in with a simple ‘down-to-earth’ explanation.
“Princess, it’s simple, your baby comes out the same way it went in.”
“But how is that?” Sonala asked huskily as she realised her devastating ignorance had completely thrown the older women.
For several moments, a deafening silence descended around the tub as Sonala became distressed.
“Please! Please tell me! How!!”
Tara became hesitant as she realised her flippant remark had done nothing to enlighten the girl. She shook her head slowly and left Drustina to explain.
“You tell her lioness. It will be better if a mother explains it ... and a father for that matter. You will be able to explain both sides of the business.”
Drustina sighed and asked for more hot water to be added, it was going to be a long afternoon.
“And tell the maids to keep the water coming Aeltea, you’d better stay to hand in case I miss something. Besides, this is really going to need a responsible chaperone and witness.”
Aeltea knew what the lioness was referring to; she was the only woman in Wessex besides Tara, Sister Catherine, Gisela and Symone who had seen the lioness naked. She settled on the side of the tub with her feet dangling in the water as Drustina started her lesson.
As Drustina explained the facts to the princess, she continued soaping and washing the girl gently. This served to calm Sonala. Several times as the water became scummier with the scented oils and soaps, Sonala took advantage of the water’s opacity and made a secret effort to try and feel Drustina’s duality. At first Drustina simply kept her distance and Sonala’s attempts to discover stuff became painfully obvious to all the women. Finally Drustina became slightly annoyed and she sat back against the rim of the tub as she addressed Aeltea.
“Lock the door darling, this princess needs to know all the facts. I’m going to show her and I don’t want any embarrassing
incidents.”
Aeltea nodded knowingly as Tara took Amethyst in her arms and nodded her agreement. It was obvious to all that Sonala needed enlightenment. Drustina took Sonala’s jaw in her fingers and stared into her eyes. She saw the uncertainty and confusion so she smiled softly to reassure her.
“Now Princess, we can all see that you need to see and understand for you have amply demonstrated your wishes with your clumsy attempts to feel my maleness. I thought that simply explaining it would be enough but it appears not.”
Princess Sonala lowered her eyes more from apology than modesty and Drustina gently kissed her on the forehead as a mother would kiss her child. She then asked the princess.
“Do you want to see what a man looks like in his private parts?”
Sonala glanced around fearfully then searched Drustina’s eyes for any sign of lust or salaciousness. She found none, only the continuing, reassuring smile. Nervously she nodded as she croaked softly.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to see how it functions; by that I mean only watch, not touch! Then you will not get with child! Your body will remain pure.”
“Yes. No touching.”
“Right young lady, now I must warn you my body has endured many cuts from many battles. I was not only born disfigured at birth but also disfigured by war. Prepare to see a horribly scarred body. I am going to stand.”
Solana bit her bottom lip and tensed but to her own surprise, her eyes were not drawn immediately to Drustina’s duality. Instead she stared disbelievingly at the multitude of scars that seemed to cover the Lionesses’ body. Drustina realised that her battle scars were a greater shock to the princess than her duality so she slowly turned to expose the worst of her wounds. Firstly the long ugly scar from her waist, down her buttock and under her gluteus into her most intimate part. Secondly the cruel burn with its waxy texture and puckered rills of shrivelled flesh that spread from just below her left scapula up her neck to finish at her left ear that more resembled a strip of fried bacon. Sonala was so shocked she could not help but comment.
“Ugh. It’s so ugly, how do you...?”
“How do I bear them you wonder?”
Sonala’s voice cracked. “Well ... Ye-ess.”
Drustina shrugged philosophically and somewhat wearily.
“With sadness, with pride, with anger.”
Solana hesitated as her eyes remained glued to the disfigurement until she sensed Drustina’s mild impatience.
“I, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”
“This is supposed to be about you; educating you, explaining stuff.”
As she gently censured Solana Drustina turned to face her again; her male part made quite visible again. Solana frowned as her lips twitched distastefully.
“It’s a bit ugly really, isn’t it?”
Drustina was forced to agree. Of all the scars and disfigurements she carried she also thought her cock was the ugliest but she did not want to remove it for it gave her pleasure that no other woman could understand. She looked down and chuckled, ‘it was rather ugly, hanging like a withered fruit’. She smiled at Solana and nodded slowly.
“Yes, indeed you’re right. Cocks are not the prettiest of things.”
Solana nodded then realised she was having a unique opportunity to learn about man stuff without feeling threatened. She became emboldened by the Lionesses’ easy, friendly manner.
“You said it grows stiff when a man fancies somebody else.”
“It does young lady. Stand up.”
“But I; I’m naked!”
“Stand up silly! This lesson is for you and nobody else. I will not embarrass the other women here; I will not insult Aeltea nor abuse her lack of rank by asking her to bare her assets, attractive though she is. This lesson is for you alone, now stand up please! You will see how the beauty of your body arouses a cock!”
“Why don’t you ask Tara?”
“Tara is my own sister girl. I could never fancy my sister!”
“Oh! Yes, of course.”
Solana continued to hesitate so Drustina explained.
“This is a lesson Princess. I am trying to demonstrate two things; firstly how a man is aroused and secondly I’m trying to get you accustomed to being naked beside your husband. Stand up please.”
Reluctantly, Sonala slowly emerged from the water half turning as she rose. Drustina indulged her this concession because it was obviously her first time. Even so, Sonala’s beautiful form soon had Drustina’s maleness lusting. It was more a consequence of Sonala’s seeming vulnerability and innocence than her stunning beauty but the whole effect was one of arousal and provocation. Drustina was secretly relieved that her male part responded as she’d hoped. Solana’s eyes widened with curiosity and she reached out hopefully.
“Can I touch it?”
Drustina rolled her eyes.
“D’you have to? Is not seeing enough?”
“I just want to feel it.”
“Quite simply it’s a stiff rod covered in velvety skin.”
“But is Ethelred’s like that?”
“Pretty much, yes. I keep male company as much as I keep female. I’ve seen his parts.”
Solana gasped.
“You’ve been naked with men!!”
“Only to bathe, it’s no big deal princess. I was armed and men respect my weapons.”
“But only women respect that weapon!” Tara chortled earthily.
Drustina scolded her benignly. “Behave sister! Right Sonala, that’s the anatomy lesson over young lady. You can touch it once then we get dressed.”
Sonala reached out tentatively and extended her fingers then she looked up seeking permission. Drustina nodded and the princesses’ fingers curled curiously around the incongruous pole.
“It’s sort of soft but stiff.”
“That’s enough young lady; lesson over. If you want to learn any more go down to the farm yard and watch the animals.”
Even as she spoke, Drustina had a disturbing thought.
“You have been to a farm have you not?”
Sonala wagged her head despondently.
“No. It was deemed unseemly for me to see such rawness.”
“May the gods forbid! It’s the farmyard for you girl. A few lessons in the dynamics.”
Tara let out another snort and even Aeltea could barely control her snigger. Drustina wagged her head in mock despair.
“The sooner the better I think. I’m finished here.”
She climbed easily out of the tub and hauled Amethyst out before the two retired to her bedroom. Carl was still fast asleep. Drustina put her fingers to her lips before they dressed then savoured the un-interrupted hour by dressing each other’s hair.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Drustina gets involved with affairs of state because she is unable to easily travel and re-embark upon her quest to reclaim her homeland.
The Angry Mermaid 87
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 87
Even after Drustina had finished Amethyst’s hair Carl did not waken. Both mother and daughter crept over to the bed and studied the Saxon.
Amethyst touched his hair lightly.
“Why is his hair gold and mine red? Yours is gold as well.”
“Carl is not your father darling. Your father was a Celt like me. He had red hair and he was a partner of Carls in the slave galleys.”
“What was his name?”
“He was called Torvel and he stayed behind because he found a wife in another land. As far as I know, he’s still there.”
“So why has Morgan got yellow hair.”
“Well I’ve got yellow hair so that explains why he has yellow hair.”
“Why is that?” Amethyst persisted.
“I don’t know darling. Sometimes we follow our mothers and sometimes we follow our fathers. I don’t know.”
“I wish I had yellow hair. If Carl had been my father I’d have yellow hair then, wouldn’t I?””
“Possibly darling, don’t worry about it, yours is a lovely golden red not the carroty red that Picts and Scots can sometimes have. I think there was some Roman blood back in my or your father’s past. The Romans call your hair Titian. It’s very unusual in Britannia and your hair will be much thicker and lustrous than yellow hair when you grow up.
“Will I always have to comb it?”
“Yes, but don’t you enjoy it? When it gets longer, you will always need a friend to do it because it will be so thick and lustrous. Titian hair can be one of the most beautiful of all hair colours.”
“Will you do it mummy, when I’m older that is?”
“As long as you’re my daughter darling; yes. Don’t you like Auntie Tara doing it?”
“Yes, but you’re my mummy. I wish you were around more often.”
“I’m a busy lady darling, so much to do so much to be done. Come on; let’s go down to the great hall. Dinner will be ready soon. You’d better wake Carl.”
Having been given a licence to tease the giant Saxon, Amethyst immediately bounced onto the bed and set about tickling the sleeping warrior. Carl woke and retaliated by tickling his step-daughter and she squealed with delight. Drustina was secretly pleased to see that her older daughter seemed to accept Carl as her father. The three of them accompanied Tara down to the great hall where Morgan joined them. He had been watching a snowball fight amongst the older boys in the city. The thaw was now spreading over Wessex and the snow was nearly all gone; it seemed as if the older boys were seizing one last chance to play with the snow. With the coming of the thaw, the business of the city was returning to normal.
~o000o~
A few days later, Drustina learned that her beloved mare Seripatese had come into Season so she and Tara took it upon themselves to accompany Solana down to the stables. Carl was busy attending his stallion Jupus when the ladies appeared. He turned to them.
“Morning girls, what brings you down here on such a bright and sunny morning?”
Drustina grinned.
“Oh I just came to see if my mare Seripatese was alright.”
Carl grinned.
“Well Jupus seems to think so. He’s making all the right noises. I’m just about to introduce them. As soon as the primary business is sorted’ I‘m turning them loose in the paddock.”
“Oh good, we’ll stay then.”
Carl smiled knowingly but said nothing. Drustina had previously mentioned Sonala’s naivety so he held his tongue. Now was not the time for any ribald remarks. Instead he opened the gate between their adjoining loose-boxes and stepped back. Normally Jupus and Seripatese ran together all the time in a big paddock but the snow had curtailed this freedom, however they were still well acquainted with each other and Carl foresaw no problems. Until the thaw, the horses had been stabled and the warmth might have precipitated the onset of Seripatese’s receptivity. The mare’s coming into season had provided an ideal opportunity for Sonala to broaden her education.
With Jupus being well familiar with Seripatese, the preliminary ‘courtship’ rituals were naturally adhered to. Jupus already considered Seripatese to be one of ‘his’ mares so the mating was not an equine rape. The stallion had the wit and temperament to cosset his mare and neck her for long minutes before nosing and nudging her to bring her into receptivity. Drustina was secretly relieved by Jupus’s behaviour because it illustrated to Sonala that most Mammals indulged in some sort of ritualistic ‘courtship’ before coupling eventually took place. In fact the ‘courtship by the horses took so long that Sonala murmured softly to Drustina.
“When does the deed get done Dru?”
“When she is ready and agreeable. See how he constantly necks her and sides her to make her submit.”
“I hope King Ethelred doesn’t treat me like that!” She giggled.
“Indeed my princess, but you’ll note Jupus doesn’t use force or violence such as he might if he was fighting another stallion. What you are seeing is actually very gentle for a horse. It is each species to their own princess, each to their own mores and habits.”
Even as Sonala grinned, Seripatese let out a loud whinny and started paralleling Jupus as he sniffed her rear. The stallion then took his measure and mounted the mare to commence the coupling. The act was simultaneously powerful yet delicate and Sonala watched fascinated as Drustina asked.
“Have you seen enough now?”
“I’ll watch it through to its conclusion.”
“You’ll have a long, cold wait my girl,” Drustina grinned, “he’ll mount her several times and guard her before she is definitely put with foal. The whole process will be completed out there in the paddocks, it might take days. All you’ve got to do is see that the stallion enters the mare just as a man would enter a woman. Though I must admit, we humans are a lot quieter and sensuous about the act. If you’re going to stay all morning, I’ll have to leave you with Tara. I’ve got business with Ethelred and Cardinal Craklow. Are you coming Carl? Those two seem as happy as they usually are.”
Carl secured the loosebox doors then opened the loosebox double door out to the paddock before accompanying Drustina back to the great hall. Sonala stayed with Tara as they watched horse and mare obviously savouring their newfound shared liberty. Jupus was constantly galloping parallel to Seripatese and generally demonstrating his dominance. Sonala found herself secretly squeezing her thighs together as her body responded to her secret and deeply suppressed fantasies.
~o00o~
In the great hall preparations were afoot for the consecration of the great church. Drustina was not seriously interested in this ceremony but she had received an invitation to attend from Cardinal Craklow and she wondered if it was to do with some things that she had been pushing for.
Sister Catherine had occasionally let slip that she was still bitter about her ex-communication after the Polanda piracy affair. Drustina had never admitted that she felt Sister Catherine had been unjustly treated but she saw the issue as an opportunity to advance her own secret agenda to get better treatment for women as a whole. There was also another question that Drustina wanted to address, namely the date of the wedding between Ethelred and Solana.
Drustina and Carl entered to find Ethelred and Cardinal Craklow discussing the ceremony sheet that listed the various elements of the consecration. They looked up as the couple entered and Drustina asked.
“You invited me here Cardinal. Surely you don’t want me involved in this consecration thingy.”
“Uuuhm no Lioness; it’s nothing to do with that. I’ve just received a letter from his holiness. The roads are open again at last.”
“A letter Cardinal; from the pope!? Surely not for me, a dyed in the wool pagan.”
A flicker of irritation crossed the cardinal’s brow as he wagged his head.
“No, not you directly, but it’s something that you’ll be pleased about. I know you’ve touched upon it a couple of times.”
Sister Catherine’s issues had long since slipped from Drustina’s mind and she looked somewhat at a loss. Cardinal Craklow reminded her.
“Sister Catherine. She never married; unlike the rest of the nuns after the piracy thing.”
Drustina became cautious and Craklow sensed her suspicions as the Lioness explained.
“She chose to be my secretary and quarter-mistress. She’s proving to be a first class administrator. So what would the Pope want with her?”
“Do you not remember? You expressed your distaste at the way the nuns were treated.”
Drustina frowned uncertainly. She wondered where the Cardinal was taking this.
“Well ... yes I do but it’s over and done with now. All the nuns have found partners and lots of them are settled in Frankish lands. Anyway, as to their trial in Gdansk, you were there as well. I was only too pleased that you managed to persuade the Polska Cardinal then to be lenient. Surely they’re not coming back at her after all this time? If they are I must warn you, I’ll fight any threat to Catherine with sword, tooth and nail!”
Craklow smiled and wagged his head.
“There you go again Dru, always the distrustful one; always ready to draw your sword.”
“Are you surprised Cardinal, without my sword I’d be long dead.”
“Indeed, indeed Lioness. Well for once this should please you.”
“Oh, go on.”
“The Pope has agreed to re-invest Sister Catherine back into the mother church.”
Drustina pursed her lips thoughtfully as she nodded slowly. Eventually she replied.
“I think that might please her.”
“You think! You only think! I should have thought the lady would be overjoyed.”
“She’s pretty bitter about how she was treated Cardinal. Let’s not forget how the priests and the bishop of Gdansk treated her. They moved heaven and earth to hide the truth, to shut her up. Many of her friends are lying in un-consecrated graves on that peninsular. Innocent, elderly women no less.”
Cardinal Craklow reflected briefly before replying softly.
“Yes Lioness. I must confess I was not happy with that business but you must remember I was but an Archbishop then and my hands were tied. When I was elected as a Cardinal I was granted an audience with his holiness before my investiture and amongst other things, I discussed Mother Catherine’s situation then. You may be surprised to know this decision was made by his Holiness last summer. It has taken six months for the letter to reach here. “
“That would be before I met you here in Wessex then, so this is none of my doing.”
“Not recently, not directly but I agreed with your arguments way back in Gdansk; as I said, my hands were tied then. The old Cardinal was something of a conservative.”
“Yeah and somewhat tyrannical if I remember rightly, I know the King was wary of him.”
“Well that’s water under the bridge Dru. The good news is that Mother Catherine is reinstated.”
“So why are you telling me and not her?” Drustina asked.
“I just thought you’d like the pleasure of telling her. I know you and she are close friends.”
“We are, very close. What if she refuses the indulgence?”
Cardinal Craklow and Ethelred gasped in disbelief.
“Are you serious Lioness?” Ethelred asked.
“I don’t know your majesty; she was very distressed and very hurt by the whole business. I know she enjoys working with me; it gives her plenty of opportunity to right any wrongs ... especially when she sees women and children suffering. She may be excluded from this one god thing but she’s still a caring and courageous woman. I find her invaluable in helping to clear up the mess left by soldiers after a battle ... the wounded, the widowed, and the orphaned. She has become expert at that.”
“A true Christian then Dru, not some preaching hypocrite.” The cardinal observed hoping to win Drustina’s approval.
Drustina was cautious with her reply.
“Yes, perhaps, if you like. Your church’s loss was womanhood’s gain.”
“I’ll go with that Lioness. What would you have me do to please her?”
“Don’t ask me, ask her. She’s an able woman and she can express her own wishes.”
“Yes, she is, but I feel if I summoned her here she might take it as a threat.”
“Summoned her!” Drustina almost screeched her anger. “Summoned her!! What right have you to summons her? She is my companion and a free woman; you have no suzerainty over her! If you want to speak to her, I will do you the courtesy of conveying your REQUEST to meet her but you have no right to summons her. I think it’s obvious she would think a summons is a threat. Better still, on second thoughts, I will convey the news to her about this Pope’s decision then she can think on it until she is ready to decide.”
Cardinal Craklow sighed patiently. ‘The lioness was certainly a prickly customer when it came to the state of women and womanhood.’
He found himself wondering if her having this unique dual state of manhood and womanhood gave her some sort of deeper insight ... and therefore some greater cause for her discontent and dissatisfaction with his church and the faith.
One thing was certain though; ‘the Lioness could certainly argue her point and defend her corner both verbally and physically’. He was still secretly relieved and glad that wholly accidental circumstances found his church and Drustina on the same side when confronting the Norse threat.
Having brought the first issue to a satisfactory conclusion, Drustina then tackled the second issue. She turned to Ethelred.
“Your wedding, to the Princess Sonala. Is the date fixed?”
“We thought the Summer Solstice, the month of June; the twenty first being the best day.”
“Oh ... you thought. What does Princess Sonala say?”
“She should be agreeable. She has a good marriage, she will become a queen.”
“Oh really.” She turned to the Cardinal, “and what has the church to say about this date?”
Cardinal Craklow sensed some issue brewing but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He answered cautiously, thinking Drustina was about to raise some issue between the church and the Summer solstice date; an important pagan festival.
“I think the day of high summer would be an auspicious day. The mother church would have no quarrel with such a day for such a celebration. God created the moon and sun and stars, they give us our seasons so it is no disrespect to our lord to follow their perturbations.”
“Oh; so you too can see no problem with your choosing that day.”
“Well ... no. Can you?”
“Have either of you asked Princess Sonala?”
“No.” They answered in unison.
“Ethelred, have you spoken to your mother?”
“No. It is my choice. It is a simple day to remember, the whole country will be glad that the King’s wedding will become a feast day to replace the pagan solstice.”
“And what if the Princess is not agreeable? To that particular day I mean?”
“Why should she not agree?”
Drustina shook her head in disbelief as she leaned forward and spoke softly. This forced both men to lean inwards and she gently reached out and thumped their heads together. Not so as to hurt but enough to shock them as she spoke.
“If you are both that stupid gentlemen, I suggest that you Eth, speak to your mother!”
“Why?”
“Just speak to her you stupid man!”
“What are you driving at?”
“Why d’you think it is always the bride who chooses the wedding day?”
Ethelred frowned.
“But that is for ordinary commoners and earls. This to be a royal wedding, the King’s wedding, my wedding!”
He finished, ‘somewhat conceitedly’ Drustina thought.
Drustina smiled and even Carl grinned as he suddenly realised what Drustina was alluding to. He caught her eye before turning aside to stifle a snort of amused disbelief. Drustina continued in the same subdued tone but this time the king and cardinal stood back, they did not want another ‘head knocking’. Drustina smiled as she gave the king her parting shot.
“Listen Eth. It’s not your wedding you stupid man, it’s Sonala’s wedding; it’s always the bride’s wedding and If you can’t think why, I repeat my earlier words. Ask your mother!”
With this advice, she turned on her heel and stalked away. Ethelred frowned and turned to Carl who was of lower rank and therefore bound to be more informative.
“What is the lioness on about Saxon?”
Carl wagged his head and suppressed the belly laugh that was bursting to escape. He managed to reply between suppressed snorts.
“I respectfully suggest you do as she says your majesty. Speak to your mother the dowager queen.”
With this reply he excused himself and finally exploded into roars of laughter as he escaped into the long corridor that connected the great hall to the living apartments. Once back with Drustina in their apartments the pair could not contain their mirth. It seemed that this new one-god faith thing had so disconnected women from men through the spiritual divisions that the celibate priests and the pious, Christian king had ceased to understand the biology of womanhood and marriage. Between tears of laughter, Carl begged his partner.
“Promise me Dru, you’ll never become a Christian, well not before these idiots understand about women and their cycles.”
Drustina simply shook her head in disbelief.
“By the Moon goddess Rhiannon; the Princess Solana is going to need help teaching these dummies the facts surrounding babies and their begetting.”
Carl nodded agreement as he replied whilst looking down from their apartment window onto the paddock..
“Well she will have learnt another lesson today; she’s still there in the paddock watching Seripatese and Jupus.”
Drustina stepped up to look through the window and Carl reached out to hug her to him. She melted into his embrace and murmured in his ear.
“If those horses can do it so can we. Get on that bed!”
Carl glanced askance at his partner then grinned. He always liked it when the lioness made it abundantly clear she was ‘up for it’. If this was a bi-product of Drustina’s duality; if this is what set her aside from the plethora of simpering, fatuous dizzies that plagued Carl’s leisure time when he was beset by predatory hopefuls, then this was a girl Carl could live with ‘til death did for them.'
He settled easily onto the bed and Drustina clambered over him as they urgently undressed together. Once they were naked, he relished her soft silky tresses that brushed across his chest before they embraced again and ‘tested’ their mutual burn scars before indulging their passions.
That evening they were late for dinner but neither one cared.
~o00o~
At the meal table, the dowager Queen and Princess Sonala looked up and grinned as Drustina and Carl entered the great hall late. King Ethelred also gave the pair a rueful look as he dug sheepishly into his meat. Obviously he had taken Drustina’s advice and spoken to his mother. Drustina and Carl quickly deduced the situation and Drustina teased the king.
“When’s the date of the wedding then your majesty?”
“It’s a week before the Summer solstice.”
“Ah, planting by the moons now are we?”
This elicited a snort of amusement as Sonala and her future mother-in-law immediately connected the lunar allusion to early agriculture comparing ‘planting by the moons’ and a woman’s cycle. The two women struggled to contain their mirth while Ethelred remarked testily.
“All right Dru! Point taken!”
Between hiccups of laughter Drustina managed to reply. “That’ll be Sonala taking your point I fancy.”
“All right Lioness; don’t rub it in.” Cardinal Craklow protested.
The nature of the early minutes of the mealtime conversation prompted Drustina to whisper a request to the Cardinal for an audience the following morning.
“What do you wish to discuss Lioness?” Her friend the Cardinal replied in a like whisper.
“Your church Cardinal, your church and women. I have not yet told Sister Catherine about her re-investiture.”
He looked somewhat askance at Drustina.
“Then you’d best hurry Lioness. She is to be an important part of the wedding proceedings.”
“Oh. In what capacity?” Drustina asked.
“I’ll l speak of that also tomorrow Lioness. We have some important business I see.”
Then the mealtime conversation turned to other matters.
~~oo000oo~~
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
BAD NEWS
Firstly I have to tell of a disastrous situation that has hammered me since Friday the 4th. At 8pm that night after taking my wife into A&E because of some cognitive disorders I learned that she has a large brain tumour. Today I might learn what the prognosis is.
Needless to say, my time on BC will be severely curtailed as I come to terms with this disaster. At present my beloved wife and I are completely at our wit's ends. We cannot plan anything until we get the results of tests that should be commencing some time this week.
This chapter 88 of Angry Mermaid might be the last for some time. I'm living in hope.
Chapter 88 deals with Drustina's continued involvement with the Saxons in Wessex, especially where her and their interests in defeating the Vikings coincide.
The Angry Mermaid 88
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 88.
Early the next morning, Drustina and Carl went out riding with Althred the Saxon Naval commander.
The last of the snows had cleared but the lower land was still waterlogged and not really suitable for galloping until they climbed up onto a chalky down and found themselves looking over a vast area of open grassland pasture. The chalky soil provided rapid drainage and at last they found a ridge-way that led away to the east and north.
Once again, Drustina’s mare Seripatese proved to be faster than Carl’s fine stallion but everybody agreed that Jupus had a much heavier load when carrying his Saxon master. As they came to a copse of trees, Drustina dismounted and looked back at her pursuers. She grinned as she listened to the thunder of hooves as Carl and Althred raced to approach Drustina astride their powerful horses. Truly, had they been attacking cavalry they would have made a formidable site as the ground started to tremble with their close approach. Drustina stepped closer to her beloved mare and squealed with delight as Carl and Althred swept by on either side with but a couple of feet to spare. It was an exhilarating game and no sooner had they swept past than Drustina had leapt on her mare again and quickly rejoined them until they came to a dew pond and the horses took their fill. Having given their mounts plenty of exercise they trotted slowly back by way of the newly built cathedral church.
“The tower is a good landmark.” Althred observed.
“Bloody great waste of money I think,” Carl replied. “The damned building isn’t even inside the city walls so what good is the tower as a watch-tower?”
“It’s a monument devoted to God.” Althred explained.
Carl kept a diplomatic silence for he thought it a monument to King Ethelred’s conceit. He turned to Drustina who smiled her silent agreement. It would do no good trying to question the waste that the building represented. Both she and Carl thought the time, effort and money would have been far better spent fortifying the town or generally improving the streets and buildings. Drustina had seen drains and effluvia in numerous Roman, Greek and Byzantine cities where the benefits had been explained to her. Armed with this knowledge she felt she could have totally destroyed the arguments supporting the building of huge, pretentious edifices as offerings to this one god business; especially as the streets stank of shit and filth and rubbish.
The ride over the downs had cleared her nostrils but the return to the city only reminded her of the disgusting stink.
On returning, she handed Seripatese to the care of the royal groom and made her way to Sister Catherine’s apartment. The ex nun looked up and smiled as Drustina entered.
“Good morning Lioness. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“I have some news.”
“Oh; good news I hope.”
“I’m not sure. What are your long term plans for the future?”
Sister Catherine’s smile faded slightly as she replied.
“Future; what future? I don’t see any future and I certainly don’t know what my future holds. How can I make plans? The only future I can see at the moment is to continue as I am doing, serving as your secretary. There seem to be no othees
ring what agenda Drustina had.
“Is this a rhetorical question or is there some substance to it; have you got something to offer and if you have, will it cost me something?”
“It’s not a rhetorical question but I don’t know how much substance there is to any offer you might receive once you express your deepest wishes.”
“Who would make what offer?”
Drustina became exasperated but she realised Sister Catherine had been bitten once before.
The lioness concluded; ‘once bitten ... twice shy’ ... Sister’s Catherine’s circumspection was only to be expected.
“Just answer my question, literally. What is your deepest wish?”
“This is not a trap now is it? I know I can trust you but there isn’t some other aspect is there?”
“Just be honest Cathy. There is no trap; your words will not leave this room unless you choose to release them.”
Cathy shrugged and eventually expressed her wish.
“I’d like to be able to help others; not like you, not with a sword or an army at my back but simply by offering assistance, feeding the poor and homeless, caring for the sick. You know, like I was doing in Gdansk before the priests and that damned bishop ... well you know. “
Drustina’s heart almost melted. She had not been wrong; ‘Cathy had not changed despite the injustices she had suffered. The mistreatment at the hands of this one god business had not killed that essential spark of compassion that seemed to be Cathy’s driving essence. ‘ The news Drustina had to give would be the best news Cathy could ever receive and Drustina gave it joyously.
“Well my dearest friend, I have excellent news for you. The Cardinal yesterday received a letter from the pope allowing you to rejoin their church ... your church. Your ex-communication has been rescinded, I have seen the letter.”
Cathy gasped and released a wail of relieved joy.
“What did it say? Can I see it?”
In answer to your first question I can tell you what it said. It commanded you to rejoin their mother church and required you to attend a summons from cardinal Craklow.
“A summons. I have committed no crime.”
“Well actually Cathy, you did, you committed piracy and people died.”
“That’s not fair, I was threatened with death myself, and I had to obey that murderous bishop! That’s not fair!”
Drustina nodded slowly and deeply.
“That’s exactly what I said to Craklow, I told him he had no right to summons you. Besides, you have been tried and punished; you cannot be tried again for Gdansk. I told him I would ask if you were prepared to speak to him.”
“Oh Dammit Dru! You haven’t queered it for me have you? You didn’t annoy him did you?”
“Not really. I did however hammer home my own point.”
“Which was?”
“You are to be treated with respect and accorded the same respect as the other holy men in that church of yours. Well it is your church if you choose to rejoin it; ... will you?”
“Choose to rejoin it? Of course I want to rejoin it! Dammit Dru, if you’ve queered it for me I’ll never ...”
“Oh calm down girl. The Cardinal and I are like that ... ‘(Drustina crossed her fingers)’. He’s more than keen to have you back. He’s even got some sort of job lined up for you in the royal wedding; all arranged and what-have-you. Go and see him but don’t be servile and submissive. I’ve told him bluntly he has no right to summons you. You choose whether or not you wish to rejoin. It’s all in your hands now.”
A smile spread across Sister Catherine’s apple red cheeks.
“I’ll be able to open a convent helping the poor and needy.”
“There you go girl. Strike while the iron is hot. Ethelred’s finished his church; I suppose he’ll be looking for some other fancy monument to massage his evangelistic ego. You’ll be an abbess before you know it. I suggest you speak to the Cardinal first; he’ll be pleased to see the first convent in Essex. That’ll be a real feather in his hat, something concrete to take back to Rome.”
Sister Catherine wagged her head.
“He’d be a happier man if he could take back a lioness converted to the true faith.”
Drustina snorted derisively.
“Faith? Faith? Truly Cathy, I have no faith nor ever will have, leastways not in a god who’s supposed to be a spirit and is yet encumbered with all the conceits and failings of a male gender. It’ll not likely happen sister; I’ll go to my end as a pagan.”
“Why? Why do you refuse to accept his forgiveness?”
“What forgiveness? Who’s forgiveness?”
“God’s.”
“What for? There’s nothing to forgive. Every act of savagery I’ve committed has been an act of necessity, an act of revenge, or an act of defence ... at least in the first instance. After that it was just war.”
“But it is writ, thou shalt not kill!”
“Ha! And then they stone you; yeah! They stone you for adultery, they stone you for prostitution, and they stone you for just about everything else, unless they’re drowning you for witchcraft ... but only if you’re a woman it seems. I’m a woman; no thanks.”
“But you are both, man and yet woman; how can they judge you?”
“Believe me Cathy, had I not always had my sword with me, they’d have as surely judged me many times over, and killed me as a monster, or a witch or who knows what else. Ask Carl or Cardinal Craklow about Bishop Alviar of Malta and Carthage.
These holy men see me as a lesser mortal for my duality, not a greater one. They can see nobody as closer to their male god than themselves. I tire of such conceit, such arrogance, self-righteousness and hypocrisy.”
Cathy sighed inwardly then asked.
“Will you ever convert?”
Drustina shrugged.
“I doubt it but that’s their problem not mine ... or yours for that matter. Anyway, if you are interested in receiving that communion stuff you hold so important then you’d better go and speak to Craklow. I’ve softened him up for you; worked the guilt card and all that. At heart he’s a good man. You’d best speak to him before lunch; I know he’s with Ethelred all afternoon discussing the wedding with Solana.” to me. Besides that, I enjoy your protection and that is a great comfort.”
Drustina smiled provocatively.
“Oh, so what you are saying is that, if you could choose a different life style; you’d take it?”
Sister Catherine sensed what she thought to be some antagonism.
“Would you be upset if I did? Would that seem ungrateful?”
Drustina grinned reassurance.
“No-oo Cathy, I was only winding you up. Everybody is free to choose their own paths. You know that’s always been a cardinal tenet of mine.”
“So what is this news you come to tell me.”
Drustina paused as she had another idea. Sister Catherine frowned impatiently.
“Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”
Drustina furrowed her brow as she explored her new idea then she advanced it.
“Tell me Cathy, if a magic spirit came to you now and offered you anything you like, what would you choose?”
Faced with such an unexpected offer, Sister Catherine was briefly at a loss. A long silence ensued as she gathered her thoughts and tried to bring some order to the question. She wanted more information and made her need plain. She was also wondering if there was some other agenda behind Drustina's offer.
“Don’t you want to come with me to talk with Craklow?”
“What for? I’m not interested in his church. I’ll be interested to see how he and Ethelred are prepared to help you. If you need help then I’ll be willing; provided I’m still in Wessex. Otherwise, I’ll be travelling west and back to the Celtic Sea. If you want to look after sick people, you’ll need a clean building. The only thing I know is that dirty infirmaries kill. The Maltese knights taught me that. They treated many of our wounded during the battles for Carthage.”
Cathy nodded resignedly and Drustina took her leave. She had the afternoon to herself so she decided to go for a stroll around the city again.
The early, spring sun had warmed up the streets and already started to cause the city to stink. It wasn’t long before Drustina decided to retreat to the cleaner precincts of the king’s palace and the open courtyards. She was cleaning her boots when Ethelred appeared unexpectedly in the courtyard.
“Dirty business Lioness.” He remarked as she sloshed her boot in the cleaning trough that had been provided for exactly that purpose.
Drustina sniffed with disgust.
“There’s no need for such filth. The streets beyond the high street are nothing but muddy tracks; and the filth! The stink! What is it like in high summer? I dread to think!””
“The drains keep failing. The banks wash away whenever the rain is heavy.”
“Well line them with stone then. Pave the streets with stone as well. The Romans did it.”
“We have not the skills or the knowledge.”
Drustina snapped impatiently.
“Yes you have. You’ve just built a bloody great church. If you have stone cutters enough for that, you have stone cutters enough to line the streets.”
“But where is the money to come from?”
“Same bloody place the money for that church came from.” (She pointed her thumb dismissively towards the newly built church.)
Ethelred frowned as he replied.
“But that is a monument to godliness. A guide to finding one’s way to the faith, and thence to God.”
“What, pointing to the sky I suppose. Is that where you think heaven lies?”
“Well where do you think it lies?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that sickness and diseases usually follow dirt and filth. The hot climes of Carthage and Malta and Egypt told me that. The Knights of St John ... your lot, taught me that cleanliness helps people to get better and I’ve seen it myself. They built cloacae to carry away effluvia; they paved the roads and removed the waste to dumps far from the cities. Once outside, the farmers used it on the fields. Call me a fussy bitch, but frankly Eth; your city stinks! Literally that is.”
“You are unkind. Those stinks and the filth will always be with us, it is the way of things.”
“No. I challenge you on that. What other places have you seen what other wonders have you encountered?”
Ethelred fell silent. It was beyond dispute that the Lioness of Carthage had been to far-away lands and must therefore have seen many wonderful things. He had no arguments save to hold that things ‘had always been the way they were now’.
Once again, Drustina felled his arguments like a woodman with an axe.
“No Eth’ they haven’t. Even the road from Winchester to Sotona has portions of the original Roman road. You have seen the paving with your own eyes, where has all the other paving gone? The old Roman roads went the length and breadth of Britannia, even into parts of Scotia. Those slabs didn’t just up and away. They have either worn out or broken or they have been stolen. Why, I’ll warrant that even the floors to your palace contain some of those stones. Don’t tell me they aren’t, I’ve recognised them. They are not local stone. In Rome and Alexandria and Constantia all the streets are paved like your palace floor.”
“Not all;” Ethelred challenged.
Drustina twisted her lips and smiled wryly.
“Well of course not all; not literally ... but as many streets as mattered, all the main streets and those streets where the citizenry or the military deemed it advisable.”
“Oh the military roads, I’ll agree with you there.”
Ethelred had at last found some enthusiasm. Less than a year ago he and his generals had been lamenting the inability of his troops to keep pace with any Viking ships following the coast with an eye to landing invaders. Drustina slowly nodded her head with some relief as she took his observation further and explained patiently.
“A military road becomes a commercial road almost as soon as it is completed. Look at the main road in your kingdom, Winchester to Sotona. If you repaved that road, the traffic would multiply overnight.”
“But the cost.”
“Raise your taxes, or charge a toll, nothing extortionate. I promise you; in the long run it’ll pay.”
“Who is to build it though?”
“Your soldiers; just like the Romans.”
“But that would mean a standing army.”
“You are going to need a standing army, the Vikings haven’t gone away; they’ll be back. A standing army of hardened road builders who can practice combat every day and also learn the layout of the lands as they cross as they build the roads. They would be a formidable obstacle to any Viking invasion.”
“Will you be a part of this standing army?”
His question caught Drustina short. She hesitated uncertainly then explained.
“Uuuhm, no I won’t. I have my own war to fight with Butcher Forden, the Viking king of Eire, but my fighting him will also serve your interests. Forden is as much a threat to your and the Mercian kingdom’s northern borders as he is a thief of my homeland. Any obstacle I pose to his forces in the Celtic sea will benefit your interests. I know for a fact you only hold Deva the great Roman fortress on the Dee because the Vikings have chosen to concentrate their forces on the South and East of Britannia. If they attack from the North and West you will find yourself in the jaws of a vice. It’s just that Harald Coldblood has not yet formed a treaty with his cousin in Eire. He will, now that he has learned he cannot defeat you on his own. He will seek to split your forces by joining with the Scots and Viking oppressors in Eire.”
Drustina’s word rang a painful knell in Ethelred’s heart. Her words only echoed his long held thoughts and fears. Now he had secured his southern border, the main threat to Wessex and Mercia lay north of the Umbre and the Mersea. The main Viking stronghold was Yorvik and neither Ethelred nor Edrinor the Mercian had much intelligence about the Viking strength in that city. Another serious ‘unknown’ was the nature of Harald’s relationships with Constin the Scottish king and Forden the Irish Viking king who were both related to Harald and claimed Viking blood.
Ethelred could see the merit in Drustina’s ambition. If she could somehow break the Viking grip on her mountainous homeland in Lleyn it would expose Forden’s Flank if he chose to attack Deva,
Having recognised the advantages to his own ambitions of Drustina wanting to somehow negate Forden’s grip on the Celtic sea, Ethelred began to wonder about a time scale and what preparations would best serve his plans. He pressed Drustina for times and dates because her observations about military roads were now blindingly obvious; they would take time to repair and rebuild. If Ethelred was to somehow contain the two threats from north and possibly south, he must need to move his forces quickly. As the pair entered the great hall to eat, Ethelred pressed his questions. Drustina sucked her cheeks thoughtfully.
“Not here Eth’, who knows what spies are about. I’ll talk to you again, tomorrow, in private.”
Ethelred raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Are you saying you think there are spies, here in my own palace?”
“I don’t know but since the road to Sotona has reopened there is an awful lot of traffic on it. Anybody could arrive without being noticed.”
“That’ll be the rush to resume trading now that the snows are melted and goods can be moved.”
“But who is to know what spies are amongst the throngs. Tomorrow Eth, in the privacy of your chambers, it’ll be nobody else but you, me and Carl. Oh, Craklow’s welcome too, strangely, despite our religious disagreements,I trust him. He and I have parallel ambitions”
~o000o~
It was late the next morning before Drustina felt ready to meet with the others; stomach cramps had unusually gripped her as they presaged the onset of her cycle. She was not in a good mood and took Carl aside to explain before she entered Ethelred’s private chambers.
“You’d best explain it to them then,” Carl replied. ! ”If I explain, they’ll think you are somehow incapacitated mentally, you know how dumb these buggers can be when it comes to women’s stuff. Are the cramps still hurting?”
Drustina smiled.
‘Carl at least had some insight into womanhood despite his massive and magnificent male characteristics. A woman could always feel safe both militarily and emotionally when in his arms.’
Her female cycle always reinforced her sense of womanhood and made her feel vulnerable despite her superb martial skills with weapons.
Reassured by his concern she checked her hair, adjusted her leggings and sword belt then straightened her jerkin before entering. Ethelred and Craklow both stood respectfully and affectionately. They both knew they owed the lioness a lot. Ethelred greeted her.
“Morning dear Drustina. What delayed you my lady?”
“Woman troubles Eth. I need say no more. The cramps are passed.”
“Do you want water or wine?”
“Water will be fine, I have little to tell at this stage save to lay out my plans. I cannot give you a time scale.”
“Time scale for what?” Craklow wondered.
“My plans to recover Lleyn from the Butcher Forden and re-open the Celtic seas to safe and free trading.”
The cardinal fell silent. He was not greatly familiar with military matters, and in the presence of one of the most successful campaigners in all Europa, he kept his silence. Drustina smiled at him.
“Fear not for your Irish Christian flock Craklow, my fight is not with them. I know they were Christianised many years before I was born but they are oppressed by their Viking overlords, as are my people. Pagan or Christian, I am not particularly choosy of people’s beliefs but as to my homeland; I want it back!”
“So you intend to leave in the summer, then what?” Ethelred asked.
“I leave after your wedding. I would like to see Solana’s marriage to you completed. I will be more certain of your Saxon Mercian alliance, then I will be leaving shortly after, probably mid-summer’s day. That’s an auspicious pagan date and it should help ensure my good fortunes.”
“Is that not just superstition?” Craklow asked.
“No more than virgin births and such like. If ever a virgin birth was possible surely it would be some freak like me to produce it, what with having male and female parts, my seed might somehow cross over inside and cause a conception. It’s more plausible than some immaculate spirit thing. Though I keep an open mind. Pagan gods are believed to put mortals with child and goddesses are reputed to have slept with men to produce titans. Who am I to question any other’s beliefs, so why should they question mine?”
Ethelred frowned but for once, he was more concerned with addressing military matters.
“So my lady, what forces will you be taking with you?”
“Two ships at best, plus the normal complements of crews. Maybe some extra archers; I don’t intend to get involved in any stand-up, knock-down fights. If we are spotted we run like hell. It’ll be stealth and more stealth as we land ashore to gather intelligence. Then maybe a few ambushes of lone Norse ships to garnish intelligence or intercept any important letters.”
“Would you accept my Earl Althred as one of your battle companions?” Ethelred asked.
“If he’s agreeable, yes. I only want genuine volunteers, except for Bishop Celyn.”
“Are you prepared to risk taking him?” Cardinal Craklow asked.
“The further he is away from this kingdom, the less damage he can do.”
“But if you set him ashore in Scotia he might well get in league with the Vikings or the Scots.” Ethelred added.
“I expect him to do that. We already know him to be dangerous so he can do us no further harm.”
“He would be able to pass information about us, our strengths and weaknesses.”
“I’m hoping that’s exactly what he’ll do, but we’ll know that. We have to update our situations so the information he passes is out of date.”
“But how?” Ethelred persisted.
“Well firstly by improving the roads towards Deva and Mancunium. You’ll have to co-operate with the Mercian king Edrinor on that. There’s no knowing where or when Harald might attack.”
“It’s doubtful he’ll get far by crossing the Umbre and sailing up the Trent.” Ethelred added, ”Edrinor has most of his land forces concentrated there and Harald would have a major battle on his hands. He’d have to fight every inch of the way south and that includes having to find his way through the great forests of Sherwood around Nottingham. Which way d’you think he’ll attack Lioness?”
Drustina shrugged.
“I’ve no idea. That’s why I want to gather intelligence. I speak the languages of the Celtic seas so I’ll be able to speak to the native Irish, the Dumnonii, and my own peoples plus the Manx. The more information I can gather, the better our chances of anticipating their attacks. Meanwhile Eth, you’d better concentrate on Roads and ships. I’ll be gone for the remainder of this year and probably until the spring of the next. I’d like to think you’ll have made some progress when I get back.”
They continued talking at length until the evening meal and Drustina was satisfied that she had convinced Ethelred to make a decisive stand against the Vikings. The stronger she could forge an alliance between the Mercians, Saxons and her own Celtic peoples, the greater would be their resources if, or more probably when, they finally met the Vikings.
In truth, Drustina was desperate to get on and return to her home waters but she had to meet again with Edrinor, preferably at his sister’s wedding. Once Solana was married to Ethelred, Drustina could be more certain the Saxon-Mercian alliance was forged.
Drustina wanted to be certain the Viking forces were divided when she commenced her campaign to recover Lleyn and there would be some delicate negotiating to arrange such an alliance. She knew that this would be an immensely difficult task for her own Celtic nations held as much enmity for the Saxons as they did for the Vikings; Drustina knew she was walking on a political tight-rope.
The best time to discuss any such alliances would be during the wedding feast. This meant she had four months to kill until mid-summer. Having started to lay a firm foundation to a Saxon military strategy, Drustina decided she could kill two birds with one stone. By travelling north to Deva, she could sound out the West Mercians and the Powys Celts whilst also indulging her natural rights to motherhood.
To this end, she spent the spring travelling the Wessex and Mercian Kingdoms all the way north as far as Deva whilst accompanied by an entourage of friends and family and a small coterie of her most able and trusted battle companions. Frequently, as she travelled along the Gwent and Powys Marches, she met with Brithonic tribesmen who were amazed to learn that The Lioness of Carthage was actually one of them. For the people of Powys, the rumours were proven to be true and at times, Drustina was hard put to dissuade them that she was not some sort of Messiah come to rid them of the Saxon curse. At times Carl and Althred became impatient as they were forced to indulge Drustina’s wishes to linger and savour the pleasure of her own tongue and peoples before reluctantly resuming her journey.
During this journeying Drustina also indulged her natural rights as a mother. Still with milk, she savoured the nurturing of her un-named newborns whilst she also devoted much time to teaching both her older children about the responsibilities of leadership. Wherever she encountered shortcomings in the local situation or some failure in the local infrastructure like silted drains or failed flood protection, she would take the local earls in hand and censure them whilst explaining why to her children. Occasionally she even arbitrated in local border issues and her even-handedness endeared both her and Ethelred to his newly subjugated peoples. During these meetings Drustina would often explain to her older children whilst even tribal leaders eves-dropped.
“You see my children; kingship or nobility is not just about living in castles and having fine things like clothes or weapons. A king or queen must look out for her subjects and see that they get a fair deal whenever it matters to their wellbeing. Also watch how Carl and Althred check to see that the road repairs and road building programme is going forward.”
By concentrating ostensibly on the condition of the various important roads, Carl and Althred were essentially concentrating on any military shortcomings that might hamper any Saxon response to an attack from the north and west. Everybody now knew that when the Vikings attacked, Ethelred and Edrinor’s armies would have to travel quickly and far before any Viking landings could be firmly established.
When they reached Deva both Carl and Althred were astounded at the extent and condition of the original Roman fortress. Drustina took great delight in escorting the pair around the city. Long ago she had visited the great city several times as a child accompanying her uncle. She had wandered the city’s many streets and markets while her uncle traded copper and silver from Parys Mountain on Ynys Fon. She was however shocked to see that sea trade had virtually ceased because relations with the Vikings in Eire and Scotia had become frozen in enmity and tension.
When the visitors spoke with the local Mercian Earl of this he simply shrugged. The Vikings had virtually closed off the Celtic seas to any trade with Wessex or Mercia via the Dee and the Mersea. North of the Mersea, the land was under the Viking yoke and Deva had become little more than a huge border outpost. It was so large and powerful however, because of its immense and vast Roman fortifications, the Vikings had utterly failed to capture it. Furthermore, Deva still enjoyed the salt trades and the agricultural trades and some shipping still worked up and down the River Dee as salt and corn were exchanged for Welsh wool and timber. For Drustina however, to see the moribund wharves and quays where once there had been bustle and frenetic trading, it was a frightening realisation as to just how bad the Viking depredations had become.
She resolved to waste no time when she returned to Winchester.
For the present however, she had to travel on to Mancunium, over the Pennine hills and down to the Umbre in Mercia before paying her respects to Edrinor then accompanying him down to Winchester preparatory to Sonala’s wedding to Ethelred. By May, Drustina’s band had crossed the Pennines and entered the village of Dore (Sheffield) prior to entering flat lands of Lindisware (Saxon Lincoln).
~~oo000oo~~
Character list
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Drustina continues on her tour of Edrinor's Mercian kingdom as she assess the Viking threat. The recapturing of a Viking held village for the Mercian King enables Drustina to send a sharp clear message to the Viking King Harald Cold-blood.
The Angry Mermaid 89
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 89.
Before Drustina’s troop entered the village of Dore, they paused as they usually did while they checked the location over. Drustina’s battle seasoned eye scanned the area from the moor they had just crossed. The eastern slopes of the Pennine hills provided an excellent panorama.
“I’m thinking that will be the River Trent or a tributary of it.”
Her guide explained they had another thirty or so miles to go if they wished to see the river that was deemed the key to any Viking invasion from their main base at Yorvik. Drustina was keen to view the river and, if possible make a diversion north to see where the great river spilled out into the Umbre Estuary. She had been told by Edrinor that the river was wide enough to accommodate a whole fleet of long ships and it was the key to any water-born attack from the eastern side of the range of hills that ran the length of north Britannia. After a brief chat with her companions they decided to overnight on a bluff at the foot of the Pennines then enter Dore in the morning. The site was easily defendable so she made camp then sent an emissary into the village.
Within an hour and after darkness had fallen, their emissary and a village elder arrived on panting horses.
“You cannot stay here overnight, it is too dangerous,” the elder declared.
“Why not?” Drustina asked.
“It is not safe, we are but fifty miles from the Umbre and there are Viking war bands constantly raiding.”
“What! This far into Edrinor's realm. Why does he allow it?”
“It is difficult to stop them my lady.” The replied as he glanced curiously at Carl and wondered silently why the large Saxon man was
not speaking for the travellers.
“And why is it difficult to stop them?” Drustina pressed.
“The river allows all but the biggest Viking warships up to a point another twenty miles above our village and several of the tributaries allow them to infiltrate further inland.”
“Oh surely not. Surely you can attack the longboats as they sail up the river.”
“They are too powerful my lady and it would only invite retribution. Some of the Viking bands number fifty strong!”
Drustina glanced askance at Carl and Althred then turned again to the elder.
“Are you saying then that Edrinor simply lets the Vikings attack at will?”
The elder hesitated before replying.
“Well, not exactly, he adopts a policy of letting the attackers expend a lot of effort and resource making their way south towards Nottingham or Lincoln then he has time to concentrate his forces and attack them at a place of his choosing.”
“But that means the Vikings have got freedom to range freely amongst the lower reaches of the Trent River where they can travel quickly in largish numbers by ship. What stops the Vikings waging a full scale attack?”
The village elder shrugged.
“I don’t know my lady. We are expecting a full scale invasion at any time, possibly in the early autumn when the ripening crops will provide food to feed their army while they attack. We won’t be able to burn the crops and retreat because our own people will starve without food stored for the winter.”
“So Edrinor simply sees you and treats you as some sort of sacrificial resistance.”
The elder nodded reluctantly for that was exactly what they were. Drustina bit her lip and said no more except to politely refuse the elder’s suggestion to take refuge in the village. He left looking unduly concerned and Drustina wondered whether he had been the bait to entice her group into the village and into a Viking trap. Once the elder had left, Drustina turned to Carl and Althred.
“We’ll post a double guard tonight, one outer and one inner ring. There are sixty men at arms so set three watches and all men are to sleep ready for battle separate from the women. The women should hide inside that deep cleft for they will be hard to find and easy to defend. Carl can I ask you to organise it, I’m going to take a look at the village.”
Carl frowned.
“Shouldn’t you take some men with you? I know you can take care of yourself but you never know.”
“If I’m not back by the fourth hour, that is two hours before the dawn, bring twenty men into the village fully armed and prepared to fight. You know which ones to bring.”
“Of course Dru, but I’m still asking you to be careful. You haven’t given me an heir yet.”
Drustina chuckled.
“An heir to what, we neither of us has a kingdom yet husband.”
“Not yet.” Carl replied ruefully, “but one day soon I hope; once these Norsemen are beaten.”
“Right, amen to that and that’s why I’m off to gather intelligence.”
Carl grinned as he thought privately.
‘Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence; still she’s right and no mistake!”
“Well go carefully anyway.”
“I will,” she replied as she slipped silently away into the shadows.
Carl stood watching until she disappeared then turned to discuss arrangements with Althred.
~~oo000oo~~
Instead of following the trail directly all the way into Dore, Drustina took her boots off and silently picked her way for the last dark mile through the forest that bordered the town on the west. Her bare feet enabled her to feel for any twigs or obstructions that might have revealed her presence. She was not surprised to see a camp fire flickering on the far side of the village where the river bordered the village. An external camp fire in a village were plenty of shelter was to be found required investigation and Drustina was soon within earshot of the silhouettes sat murmuring around the fire. She soon determined them to be Norsemen and of course she had an excellent understanding of their language for it was almost identical to the tongues of Dansk and Svensk which she had learned during her adventures in the Baltic.
The Norsemen’s conversations told her as much as she needed to know and she slipped away to prepare an attack. Before the middle hour she was back at the camp and explaining.
“I saw one ship that looked capable of holding between fifty and seventy men. We are sixty so I think with the element of surprise we should free the town of its jailers.”
Carl nodded sagely as he offered.
“So it’s silent approach followed by surprise attack. We won’t need our horses, just leave a few men to guard them.”
Drustina nodded and the warriors prepared as she explained.
“No armour but plenty of weapons and extra leather jerkins. The only men who will be wearing mail will be the Viking guards. I saw a couple of men come out of a large central hall to go for a pee. I suspect they might have commandeered that building as a barracks. We must creep up and dispose ourselves to gain maximum surprise and advantage.”
The whole band, save for the lookouts murmured their assent and soon a single column of some sixty men were following their leader silently towards the village. Within two hours Drustina’s loyal followers and the Saxon volunteers were arraigned for a fast silent attack. A single soft foxy yelp signalled the attack and three score of silent wraiths emerged from various vantage points. The slaughter was completed before a Viking sword was drawn. Drustina viewed the carnage with some satisfaction as she whispered her next instructions.
“Anybody hurt?”
“Only a few Norse,” Althred replied evincing a low chuckle from the gathered companions.
“Right, phase two, surround the village and surround the great hall. I’m thinking that’s where the bulk of the others are bedded.”
“Shades of Honfleur Dru,” Carl whispered.
“Same plan Saxon,” Drustina replied to her erstwhile companion. “If a thing works don’t try and fix it.”
Carl organised his party to the rear of the hall while Drustina set most of her men at the front whilst despatching a dozen to watch the roads out of the village and other important looking buildings like the church and an inn that was opposite the great hall. Carl, Drustina and Althred stayed in sight of one another then when Drustina dropped her raised sword a dozen fire arrows were ignited and fired through any open windows that the hot summer evening had encouraged. Immediately two score of fire arrows were then fired into the door posts and window jambs so as to silhouette anybody attempting to escape.
Very quickly bellows of alarm preceded a wild stampede from the inside as Norsemen roared and cursed when they ran into arrows at every attempt to emerge. Then, just as Drustina anticipated, there were female shrieks of terror as flames really began to take hold inside. A Norse voice roared angrily.
“There are women trapped in here! Let us out.”
“Come out one at a time and throw your weapons well clear as you step into the street.” Drustina instructed. “Are they Saxon women?”
“Of course they’re Saxon women!”
“Then let them out first!”
Immediately, the female shapes appeared illuminated by the flames as they all flung themselves out into the street as flames licked at their clothes. Drustina screamed instructions.
“Go to the two men by the trough. They will dowse any burning clothes.”
All but one woman managed to escape and it was Althred who rushed forward to drag her clear of the doorway as the flames raced hungrily along the old tarred timbers.
“Are there any more women?” Drustina demanded in Dansk.
Her use of Danish and her women’s high pitched voice caused the Norsemen to curse then squeal.
“Who are you bitch?”
“The lioness of Carthage; you can come out now, one by one. Some use the door and others use the two front windows. Don’t try to escape via the sides or back, you are surrounded!”
There followed a few moments of silence as the trapped Norsemen considered their situation. It wasn’t long before the first Viking appeared. He flung his sword to the side and held out his hands to demonstrate his surrender. Drustina was mildly surprised and frowned. Normally, Vikings fought to the death but this lot were acting like frightened maids. Drustina felt edgy.
Her suspicions were soon justified for after several Vikings had emerged, the ninth Viking had a woman in his grip. Immediately all bows were aimed at him but he simply stepped up behind the cluster of earlier emergers and held the girl tight against his chest. Having decided he was at no risk and safe so long as he held the Saxon hostage girl, he shouted back.
“You give us free pratique or all the women and girls die.”
Drustina knew it was pointless to waste time arguing it would simply give the invaders time to organise and prepare for the next fight. Instead, she simply signalled with her sword and immediately a score of arrows were loosed into the eight unarmed Vikings.
Drustina watched seemingly unmoved and the girl’s jailer gasped with shock as he witnessed the slaughter. That plus the desperate shouts from within the burning hotel was enough to turn the man’s mind, the last reasonable option had been closed to him.
As he desperately considered his options, or rather his lack of options, Drustina passed her hand over her long blond hair in a typically evocative, feminine manner that caused the man to momentarily lose his concentration. He stared hard at Drustina for a moment as he tried to make sense of the stunningly beautiful warrior who faced him. As his concentration wavered, his grip on the Saxon girl slackened momentarily. She sensed his hand easing and tried to break free from his grip but it was a half hearted attempt and the man simply twisted sideways and reached out to yank her back. This was all the space Drustina needed. She had already reached over her shoulder to seize the throwing daggers nestled in their shoulder scabbards so when the Viking’s arm extended the deadly knife was already streaking towards the man’s unprotected ribs. The blade grazed the girl’s wrist and she shrieked with fright but the weapon had already found its mark; low down under the Viking’s left arm and deep into his lower lung. The man cursed but managed to keep hold of the girl even if he could not pull her against the handle of the embedded knife. He gargled a bubbling curse and raised his right arm to kill his captive but the sister blade was already out of its scabbard and starting its flight towards the Viking’s arm pit as he raised his arm to bring his sword across the Saxon girl’s slender neck..
Drustina’s second blade was thrown with considerably greater force and thudded into the Viking’s chest with a sickening ‘thunk’ as blood spattered forth. Drustina had obviously pierced some important blood vessel. She watched dispassionately as the Viking groaned as his arm faltered while his blood erupted from the wound and spattered the Saxon girl’s face.
The blood, combining with the Saxon girl’s terrified expression, gave her countenance a maniacal twist until she realised the Viking’s grip had broken. She lunged sideways and stumbled to her knees before reaching out in supplication to her rescuer. For reply, Drustina simply leapt over the kneeling girl and advanced to a critical position where she had a better view and overall command of the village market square. As she landed, her sword blade administered the coupe-de-grace to the Viking who only moments before, had been an omnipotent executioner acting for the Viking king Harald Coldblood.
The Saxon girl continued wailing until Drustina had to order her to shut up because she needed to shout to the trapped Vikings and women inside the burning hall.
“Come out in pairs, each of you with a girl prisoner!”
For a moment only the roaring and crackling of flames filled the pregnant silence then finally a voice called back.
“How do we know you will not execute us?”
“I won’t need to execute you in a few minutes; the flames will do my job for me. My sword is much less painful and more noble than burning to death in flames and smoke.”
As she shouted this, she signed to her companions to shoot arrows into the Viking’s legs once they were well clear and out of sight of the doors. It would do no good to have disabled Vikings blocking up the only exit. It would also be counterproductive if the emerging Vikings saw their companions being disabled in full view of the front doors of the hall. Drustina’s more experienced companions readily recognised the issues and they spread out to form a line that would compel the Vikings and their female captives to move to the side of the hall and out of immediate sight.
When the first pairs emerged Drustina stood prominently in full view of the doors and motioned to them to move to the right. As they stumbled out coughing and half blinded by the smoke, the Lioness of Carthage loudly directed them to the open space that seemed to promise refuge. When the Viking occupiers arrived in the human fold, they received arrows in their legs but their screams were no louder than the roaring and crackling of the flames combined with the terrified screams of the captive women still inside the hall. The higher the flames rose, the hotter it got and the more the terrified women screamed as they urged their captors to move out quickly. This situation was exactly what Drustina wanted and the Vikings stumbled out unaware of the fate that awaited them.
Eventually the screaming inside the hall ceased and Drustina could only surmise that everybody was out. She tried to check inside but the flames were too severe and eventually she was forced to abandon the great hall to the flames. She now turned her attention to the forty or so wounded Vikings who mostly lay writhing on the ground cursing their wounds. Carl was gathering up their swords and axes whilst wagging his head in disbelief that none but a handful of Vikings had been carrying bows and arrows.
“No wonder they didn’t fight back Drew. We had them at our mercy. Look, almost no bowmen.”
Drustina took Carl’s word and simply shrugged.
“More fool them. Only a fool would wade into battle with sword or axe if the enemy has a company of bowmen. Have you checked with the women about survivors, of the flames that is?”
“Althred’s doing that now. His understanding of Mercian Saxon is better than the others.”
Drustina nodded and decided to set a score of her men to digging the Mercian villagers out of their homes. What she needed now was information and intelligence.
One of the conundrums that had been nagging at Drustina’s mind was the seeming lack of any response from the villagers. Despite the raging clamour of battle and the noise of the blazing great hall, Drustina had not seen a single Saxon emerge from the hovels to offer some sort of support. As she stood in the middle of the square counting the various costs of the fight Carl emerged from the scorched timbers that were all that remained standing of the great hall. He slumped onto a wooden water trough and wiped his soot-blackened face.
“As far as we can discern Dru, there doesn’t seem to be anybody left amongst the ashes. Have you had any luck questioning the women who got out?”
“Some darling, they think everybody is accounted for, at least amongst those who were in the hall.”
“They’ll be glad to see a woman’s face amongst our lot. Look at us; we all look like wild animals. Badgers that is.”
Drustina smiled at Carl and bent down to kiss him passionately.
‘Only Carl, of all her battle companions, seemed to have the sensitivity to understand the trauma that the Saxon women must have endure, big, powerful, rough-hewn warrior that he was; underneath that bearlike frame beat a heart as sensitive as any maid’s.’
As their lips parted, Carl looked up from his horse trough and grinned.
“You’d best wipe your lips and cheeks my lady; now you look like a badger as well. Come to think of it, those black stripes suit you.”
“Watch-it Saxon!”
She slapped his face playfully then grinned and turned to find the rescued women staring at her in disbelief.
“What ‘choo looking at?” She frowned. “Not all men are pigs. This one’s my guy so hands off! And another thing, where are your menfolk. Our job would have been easier with a few more villagers to swing a sword or something!”
Althred’s voice answered her question as he returned from quartering the village.
“They’re not here Lioness. Apparently, every able-bodied man has been called away to train for combat in Edrinor’s ranks.”
Drustina spun around as the disbelief spread across her face.
“What!! Everyone?”
“So it seems. Only old men and boys remain here.”
“So we can presume that a band of what; seventy Vikings, sailed their ship right up to Dore without once being challenged.”
“Seems that way my lady. They arrived in the night and capturing the village proved to be a cake-walk.”
Drustina turned to a familiar face; that of the Village elder who had come to them the previous afternoon.
“Is that true?”
He nodded shamefacedly but Drustina did not condemn him; if all the fit men had been conscripted into Edrinor’s ranks then there was little that old men and boys could have done against the well armed group of invaders. Resignedly, she turned to the group of Viking invaders who were all wounded to a man. A large dark haired man with a broken arrow stump embedded in his thigh looked up resentfully at the provocative figure looming over him. She sensed he was the leader and asked as such.
“Are you the leader of this expedition?”
He nodded truculently and reached towards his knee as he cursed in pain.
“Yes damn you!”
“How did you get so far into Mercia without being challenged?”
“It’s easy. The damned Mercians are running around like headless chickens.”
“You mean they are not keeping proper vigils.”
“Yeah. Something like that. They concentrate their troops and armies around the main cities but leave the rural lands to be laid waste. Our job is easy.”
Drustina realised the man was not lying. The proof was his being there in front of her. She also realised that Edrinor had little if any grasp of naval warfare. With armies only moving at walking pace, carrying large companies of soldiers in ships was an obvious logistical solution. The attacking Vikings arrived en-masse and fairly well rested unless they had been forced to row. Knowing that the Trent had a useful but not too powerful tidal bore, it was easy to bring ships rushing inland for as far as the bore had power. It only required a few practiced strokes to keep the Viking longships on track. She’d used the very same tactics on the River Seine and its Mascaret.
The Lioness’s main problem now was dealing with the wounded Vikings. She was sorely tempted to butcher them all but she had not noticed any evidence of carnage or butchery around the village. Indeed, the women prisoners seemed remarkably calm about the situation, so much so that one or two were even going amongst the wounded offering water. Drustina’s feminine wiles quickly realised that these raiders were not the stuff of Viking legend. She tackled the Viking leader again.
“The villagers seem to be at some ease around you. Was there a fight when you took the village?”
The chief shook his head contemptuously.
“Nothing, just women and boys we simply walked in and claimed the village. We don’t kill women; or children for that matter”
“Who did you claim the village for?” Drustina demanded.
“Harald Cold-blood.”
She nodded thoughtfully as she studied the chief. He bore a remarkable similarity to the Viking king. She wondered if he was related but needed to find out subtly. She had no intentions of revealing her acquaintance with the Norse king.
“What would happen if I sent you back in sheer disgrace?”
“We would probably lose our status amongst the ranks. I would most likely be demoted to a mere foot-soldier.”
“It seems to me you are simply ‘a mere foot-soldier’ now.”
The chief tried to stand but his wound prevented him as he declared his identity and status.
“How dare you. I have a string of horses at my home in Yorvik! My royal rank obviates them.”
Drustina smirked contemptuously. She found out what she needed to know.
“Oh! Royal rank now, is it? Well do tell, would it be worth ransoming you?”
“Yes it would! I am Harald’s only nephew.”
“So; why should that prevent me from calling you a mere foot-soldier now? I see no horses here.”
“My Ransom price is high. I am the heir to Harald’s titles and throne.”
“Are you now? Well that’s interesting. And how would a ransom note be delivered to your butcher of an uncle? From what I’ve heard of his nature, he’s likely to slaughter the messenger.”
The Viking simply wagged his head for he had not got a constructive reply. Everybody Knew Harald Cold Blood was a ruthless king; that was how he got his name. The Viking war chief had to agree with the cursed woman who stood so boldly before him; his uncle probably would kill the messenger.
For the moment Drustina had other fish to fry. She left the prisoners to the care of her guards and rejoined Carl and Althred. Althred turned to ask.
“So what’s to be done with these bastards? Do we kill them all?”
Drustina smiled knowingly.
“No need for that. Once their wounds are healed they will make useful slaves. Un-man them and use them as replacements for the village men.”
“What all of them?” Carl asked. “Surely some of them have value as ransom material. I heard that arrogant one declare his worth.
It would be a pity to geld him, I’m sure Harald will pay a useful sum to get his only nephew back.”
Drustina contained her smile. She still had not declared the father of her youngest twins. Instead she kept her secret to herself and agreed with Carl.
“Aye, he likely will pay us a useful sum as you put it. I suggest you and Althred go amongst our captives and determine each man’s worth to his family or whatever. Ransom the most valuable ten then geld the rest. Get the healer to geld them; she’ll kill less than your warriors. I want some use left in them if they are to work the villager’s land etc.”
Carl savoured the news and approached the wounded Viking chief.
“Count yourself lucky Norseman. Your worth means you are not to be gelded and enslaved. The ten most valuable ransoms will be demanded, the rest are to be changed to eunuchs.”
Carl deliberately said this loudly and a groan of despair rolled around the wounded prisoners as they digested the news.
~~oo000oo~~
After relieving the village of Dore from its Viking occupiers, Drustina is angered to learn that the occupying Vikings have consumed all the stores gathered for the winter. Thus when the invaders returned to Yorvik they would leave the Saxon women and children to starve.
In an 'out-of-character' fit of revenge, Drustina decides to curb the Viking appetites for excess in a particularly malicious way.
The Angry Mermaid 90
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 90.
Drustina was standing on the bank of the river examining the Vikings’ longship when one of the older village women approached her. She turned and smile encouragement.
“Yes lady? What d’you want?”
The woman kneeled low and clasped her hands in beseechment.
“How am I to address you madam? Are you truly the leader of this mighty band?”
“Yes and you need only call me Lioness. I don’t stand on title or ceremony.”
The villager’s eyes widened as her jaw sagged and her fear vanished from her countenance.
“Then it is true! You are the Lioness of Carthage!”
Drustina nodded impatiently.
“Yes I am woman, but I repeat, we have not time to stand on ceremony. Is there somewhere I can bathe? I have my season upon me?”
The villager’s eyes widened even further as she realised the goddess before her was admitting to that most female of conditions. Drustina saw the relief in the villager’s eyes as she was confronted with a problem she well understood and could readily solve. The menses was something that both levelled them and made the lioness mortal in every village woman’s eyes. The villager rose off her knees, smiled with no little relief and tugged Drustina to a building that obviously served as some sort of wash-house. Drustina recognised the stonework as Roman and realised the Saxons had simply taken over the building and added to it with wooden structure where the original Roman craftsmanship and masonry had either decayed or been struck. By now more village women had approached and the first villager instructed them.
“Start the fire! Make hot water for the Lioness sisters! Quickly now!”
Drustina smiled her gratitude and sent a written message to Carl.
“They have a hypocaust here husband. Send a messenger to our womenfolk then join me in the waters. You’ll love this!”
Drustina was pretty certain that all the village women were illiterate for there was nobody of any obvious noble rank. After she had set a charcoal stick to a piece of leather, the crude note was handed to a young woman who dashed off with the message.
“Our women will be pleased to learn of this,” Drustina declared as she examined the hypocaust.
The first woman asked in surprise.
“Are you saying there are other women in your band?”
“Of course. They are safely set aside but now it’s safe, we shall bring them down off the moor.”
“Might I ask how many?”
“Only a score or so; mostly my family and attendants, though some of my longstanding companions have their wives also.”
The villager’s face clouded.
“Now the great hall is burned, we may not have places enough. There were never any separate guest apartments anyway for we are but a small village.”
Drustina wagged her head as she explained with a smile.
“Woman, we have travelled all the way from Wessex, up the Welsh Marches, lodged at the great fortress of Deva then crossed the Pennines at Mancunium and slept in fields for all but a few nights. I’ll be sleeping under the stars again tonight, just as my men will. Find room for our women and you will have been hospitable enough.”
The relief was evident in the woman’s expression and the gratitude became evident as she chased the other women to be speedy with the water. While the fire heated the water, Drustina’s band fed only on their rations, which was cause for more relief and gratitude amongst the villagers.
Since the Viking raiders had appeared, nearly all the food including the vital food stores for the winter had been pillaged and consumed. Drustina was angered by the Viking’s greed and destruction for taking the stores meant for the winter would have condemned the villagers to a slow death by starvation. She decided to teach the Vikings a brutal lesson. While sharing her bath with her husband, she spoke quietly of her plan to Carl who smiled evilly.
“Take the youngest Viking; I saw one with what seemed to be his father or uncle. The kid cannot be more than sixteen years. Go into the woods and pretend to kill him. Find a wild boar, or preferably a couple of young ones; kill them and pretend we are cannibalising the boy to eat. Boar’s meat looks like human flesh especially a young suckling pig.”
Carl’s smile turned to a grin.
“You’re a bad bitch my lady but I love your ploy. Mind now, it’ll do no end of damage to your reputation!”
“Get the boy healthy again and we’ll make him the messenger to Harald. If that butcher can kill a sixteen-year-old lad then he’ll eventually know my sword or I’ll die trying. Failing that, I hope he finds death at the edge of another worthy Saxon sword.”
Carl nodded slowly as he concurred with his companion.
“There’ll be a long queue waiting to kill that one Dru. He’s committed many a foul deed.”
Drustina’s anger sat cold within her. There was a very personal reason for her wishing to meet Harald Coldblood again.
That day in The Havre when Cold-blood had encountered her during the Viking Cavalry exercises, she remembered the rape with no little anger. Even though she had not resisted and had given him every intimation that their forced union was inconsequential, the need to right the wrong lay like a hard stone within her. He had raped her and her revenge would be a desert best served cold.
The village women were shocked that Drustina, a woman no less, should find no fault in choosing to share her husband’s bath even while her menses flowed. They were even more surprised that Carl did not object. They were shocked to learn that Carl even knew of his partner’s times and dates.
Despite these cultural surprises the thing that stunned and stupefied them most of all was learning that Drustina owned both male and female parts in her own body.
True, she presented fully as a woman when clothed, and a very attractive, curvaceous woman at that but in the bath where the first Saxon woman attended Drustina and her husband, the Saxon villager almost dropped her bucket of scalding water when she espied the unbelievable incongruence.
“My God! It is true! The lioness is also a lion!”
“Careful with that damned bucket girl! Or the lioness will be neither but a scalded eunuch!”
The woman stood trembling as she regained her composure then slowly she chose her words.
“Do you consider yourself man or woman?”
“What do I look like?”
The woman mumbled grudgingly but respectfully.
“A woman my lady; and a very attractive one if I might say; pray, might I be so bold as to ask how came you by those awful scars?”
Carl interjected as he sat with legs parted wide and making no secret of his masculinity.
“They are all scars from battle lady. Sword, arrow, spear and fire no less; my wife has seen much bloodshed, more even than I have seen. I would add also that in addition to being a mighty warrior, she is truly a woman, and a mother ... and a father no less.”
The village woman fell silent. The information overload had left her dumb. When she sidled nervously from the room Carl turned and grinned to his companion.
“The tongues will be wagging soon. How long will we be staying here?”
“Until we get a response from Cold-blood or until I’m happy that the village is safe, that is, the men are returned from Edrinor’s army training.”
“That could be weeks. We might miss Ethelred’s wedding to Sonala.”
Drustina shrugged.
“We only attend as witnesses ... I think.”
“We are important witnesses though Dru. You seem to forget your importance sometimes. Remember, you have become a power in this land, an important military power; and furthermore, all the Brithonic chiefs I spoke to along the Welsh Marches accept you as a spokesman on their behalf. To a man they told me they had all heard of ‘The Lioness of Carthage’.
You have the power to weld these peoples into one nation Dru. Dore is but a small village of little importance; why do you bother with it when you have kingdoms and crowns in your hands?”
Drustina frowned thoughtfully.
“But we must remember the little villages Carl, the lesser beings in this great pantheon. It is from the little things that legends and sagas grow. Great oaks Carl; great oaks.”
“Aye; that’s the truth. Come on, the girls will be here soon, they’ll all be wanting to share the luxury of this hot water and we’ve got stuff to see to.”
He stood up as the water cascaded off his powerful shoulders. Drustina felt her loins grow warmer as she looked up and smiled while her heart beat that little bit faster. She secretly cursed that she was menstruating otherwise she’d have jumped his bones there and then. As they dried each other off she felt his calloused fingers accidentally graze her nipples and she sagged forward urging him to continue.
“Oops sorry darling,” he apologised as he went to snatch his hands away.
She reached out swiftly and gently returned them to her breasts.
“Don’t stop! That was delicious. Just be gentle, like you were just then. That’s right, just like that. Ever so gently.”
He continued gently doing as she bid until she felt the waves begin to flush through her body and she finally orgasm’ed without any contact to her lower body.
Once her needs were met, she pushed back against his chest and nestled into his arms as she heard his heart beating. Then she felt his manhood hardening so she twisted around, knelt at his feet and gently took it in her mouth. It was Carl’s turn to gasp as he responded quickly but gently. He had long ago learned how to treat his companion, his queen. No violent, masculine, thrusting when she took him this way. Yes, it was a strain for him to resist the temptation to drive forward and upward but at these times, it was for Drustina to set the pace and he invariably enjoyed an excellent outcome. His jaw sagged and he groaned as she relieved him of the pent up tensions from the battle.
They lay, naked for almost an hour until a noise outside the door alerted them to familiar women’s voices. Tara, Drustina’s older sister was marshalling the women and restrained them before calling through the door.
“Are you still in their Dru?”
“Yes; wait a minute! We are bare!”
Even Tara released an involuntary snort as she confirmed the situation.
“Is that the royal ‘we’ or the marital ‘we’?”
“What d’you think!?” Drustina snapped irritably before she saw the funny side of it.
Carl and Drustina then exchanged grins as the sniggers outside the door betrayed the youth of Tara’s companions. Gisela and Symone's sniggers were the most obvious. The couple heard Tara scold them and they reluctantly dressed before unlocking the door and allowing the other women in. The two teenaged girls wore knowing smiles but Carl and Drustina simply smiled at Tara and the other, older women before making their excuses and leaving.
In the village square, they found Althred negotiating the ransoms with the Viking prisoners and there was much argument amongst the wounded men as the lesser chiefs debated who amongst them was likely to command the highest ransom. Drustina ignored the cacophony of despairing debate until she came to the young lad she had been seeking. She reached down felt his arm then turned to Carl and nodded.
“He’ll do, he’s probably the tenderest.”
Carl made a bit of a show of seizing the boy and instructing some of the Saxons to take him away. An older Viking looked up and demanded to know where they were taking the boy.
Drustina simply shrugged and looked down as though totally unconcerned then replied.
“My men must eat; we don’t steal from our allies the Mercians; so a nice tender Viking piglet will serve as food tonight. Don’t worry, his end will be quick.”
There was a stunned silence amongst the Vikings then a roar of protest from the man who’d asked.
“You’ can’t do that, you’re bloody cannibals!”
“As I said; my men must eat! Just be thankful it’s not you, you’ve obviously fed well on the Saxon food stores. Look at the fat belly on you. Did you intend leaving these women and children to starve after you return to Yorvik and your blood-lust king? The only reason we didn’t choose you is because the younger Viking will be tender and sweet. Now shut up or you will follow him!”
“But he’s my son!”
“So you brought him here thinking it was going to be a cake-walk! Well I’ve news for you Viking. This is war and it isn’t pretty!” Where else can my men find meat? They haven’t time to waste hunting for deer or boar; and besides, you’ve probably hunted the forests hereabouts out of game!”
The horror in the father’s eyes was evident but he made no more protest. Drustina left the prisoners to the attentions of the healer who was already preparing herbal brews to sedate the unfortunates destined to be gelded. She returned to the Saxon woman who she now realised was probably the lead woman in the village.
“Later, when you feed these gelded thugs, make sure you boil plenty of red clover in their broth. It will speed their womanliness and reduce their aggression. I want you to feel safe once we are gone, at least until your menfolk return. Do you grow Flax hereabouts?”
“Some, not a lot.”
“Pity; that would add to the effectiveness of the broth. Remember, plenty of red clover flowers and don’t boil it for too long.
It will also reduce their strength but that will make you safer. So long as they can still till the fields and tend the livestock, they’ll be some use to you.”
Having organised the collective castrations of the prisoners, Drustina joined Carl and several of her band as they marched the wailing teenager away into the forest. Once well away from the village and deep into the forest, she stopped and prepared a fire. This act terrified the boy and she let him stew while she despatched a trio of her band to hunt out some wild boar.
When she had first scouted the village she had heard them grunting and snuffling during the night and her keen sense of direction and smell had soon found evidence of their recent rooting amongst some oak trees in search of truffles. Within the hour her companions returned successfully with two dead young squealers. They were quickly butchered and cooked to return to the village and feed her men.
During the cooking Drustina had taken the boy aside and finally relieved him of his terror. She sat him down with Carl while she explained what was to be done.
“Right you little Viking sod! Do as we tell you and you’ll keep your balls, don’t and your father dies. D’you understand?”
The boy’s eyes widened with uncertainty for a moment until he realised what the murderous queen was saying.
“You mean I'm not to be killed and cooked?”
“Of course not you stupid little bugger! We don’t eat people, what the hell d’you thing we are? What we are going to do however; is send you as the messenger to that pig of a Viking king Harald. I’ll give you a written message. Can you read?”
The boy wagged his head. It was as Drustina expected, few Viking commoners could read or write. She had Carl and the remainder of the band detain the boy in the forest whilst she and the others returned with the butchered piglets and pretended they were the remains of the boy. As the meat was shared out amongst the Saxon soldiers, they were advised to pretend it was human flesh after having been reassured it was actually suckling pig. In the village she prepared the letter to Harald Cold blood and returned to the forest. The letter advised the Viking king that unless the boy returned with a reply within a month, (plenty of time to get from Dore to Yorvik and back,) then all the Vikings, including the chieftain who was the King’s nephew, would be put to the sword.
She then had the king’s nephew write a letter to his uncle while the remaining ransomees could make whatever marks they could to plead with their families to pay the ransoms.
The following morning, the boy was led some twenty miles northeast of Dore and released close to the River Trent so that he could easily find his way to the Umbre estuary. All Drustina could do now was await events. For the next month she organised her men to help repair the great hall and supervise the Viking invader’s enslavement.
~o00o~
During that month she was mildly intrigued to see how the emasculation and feminisation of the prisoners progressed. None of the Vikings realised that the seemingly tasty broth they were fed twice a day was dosing them up with natural plant phytoestrogens derived from the red clover. As the changes progressed they believed their increasingly soft and sensitive breasts were due to their having been castrated. They were also utterly demoralised by their having had their penises removed to force them to squat like women to relieve themselves. When in the company of other men in the future, there would be nothing so demeaning as having to squat to urinate while the other men simply stood and expelled from their organs. To add to their debasement, the Vikings’ hides were becoming softer and more sensitive to pain.
Consequently, there was much despair as they remained imprisoned while they compared their terrifying, bodily developments. Drustina and her knowledgeable healer were creating a compliant, weepy, sensitive coffle of slaves that squeaked with fear at the slightest threat of pain or violence while they passed a few basic secrets to the womenfolk concerning the correct herbs and plants to continue the progressive feminisation.
When the Vikings’ wounds were recovered and their groins healed they were set to work contributing to the rebuilding of the great hall. In the confines of the village they could be closely monitored and supervised to prevent any escape attempts.
During the rebuilding, it soon became apparent to the Vikings themselves that their male musculature was being diminished and they were struggling with physical tasks that they would previously have easily accomplished. Drustina sometimes watched as their frustration manifested itself in tearful, effeminate outbursts as fully sized, once male individuals stamped their feet and beat their massive fists uselessly against the timbers they were trying erect or move. It brought a malicious smile to her cheeks as she thought to herself.
‘Now you know what it’s like to be as weak and vulnerable as a woman you brutes!’
She was sat one morning watching the work when a commotion by the river disturbed her reflections. A small boat had arrived with a half dozen crew including the teenage messenger she had despatched to Yorvik four weeks earlier. She received the boy as she still sat overseeing the great hall.
“You nearly missed the deadline lad, what kept you?”
“King Harald wouldn’t believe it at first then when his efforts to locate our band failed he was forced to accept your message as fact.”
“So what was his reply?”
“He is prepared to pay your ransom for his nephew.”
“Good; what of the other ransomees?”
“Not all their families have agreed; I have a list of those prepared to pay.”
Drustina took the list and her examination concluded it was a better than expected result. The silver and gold would help the village to buy supplies to get through the coming winter and help to offset the monies she owed to those of her band who had joined on a more mercenary note when she was preparing for the expedition in Wessex.
Not all of those who were companying her on the grand tour of southern Britannia had been her earlier volunteers. Most of her earlier Gaulish volunteers had remained in Wessex to overhaul their ships. Drustina was relieved that after checking the figures she now had enough money to pay her followers.
With that load off her mind, she turned to the boy.
“You’d better go and find your father; he’s working in the village square. You’ll find your father a very changed man, not quite the brute he used to be. Still he’ll be shocked and excited to learn his son is in good order. Go on lad, what’s keeping you.”
“You mean I’m free to return to Yorvik?”
“Yes, collect your father and go; now! Before I change my mind!” You can take the other ransomees with you. We’re keeping the rest as slaves. When you get to Yorvik, you can tell Cold-blood that all of the band except you has been unmanned. The villagers are keeping the un-ransomed men as gelded slaves.”
“Are you saying all of them are gelded, even the ones who fetched a ransom.”
“Yes. None of them are any good to me; they’ll not be much good for anything except work. You’ll understand when you collect them. Go on lad; go before I change my mind. Run!”
The teenager dashed away calling out names. Viking slaves stared in disbelief at the ‘ghost’ approaching them until they realised there had been some sort of deception about the cannibalism. The boy’s father burst into tears at the sight of his son’s seeming resurrection then he turned to look at Drustina through altered eyes. He at least had somebody to carry on his line. As for the other ransomees, as soon as they were released, they made post haste for the waiting ship. Drustina wondered what their families would make of the feminised geldings that were returned to them.
She smiled with a deep visceral satisfaction; especially as she wondered what Harald Cold-blood would do when he learned that his only nephew and known male heir was now also a sterile, feminised, eunuch
She watched them departing down river then smiled as she turned her attentions to the issues affecting the village of Dore. Issues like the shortage of food that would face the whole village through the winter. She could only hope that the village’s share of the ransom money would tide them over to buy meat and bread.
The following day as they were preparing to depart, Drustina was relieved to find a large band of Saxon men returning from the Ranks of Edrinor’s army. Their training complete, Edrinor had released them to their various villages and peasant duties. Even as a group of men peeled off the Saxon column and returned to Dore, Drustina was calling Carl and Althred to her side.
As soon as the village men are settled back in the village, we leave for Nottingham and Edrinor’s court. We’ve been here too damned long as it is. The village men will be able to manage the control of the slaves. We leave at dawn gentlemen. I suggest the men get some sleep, but you and I will have to debrief the Saxon men first. Come on; I don't want them condemning their wives and daughters for not having resisted the Vikings even unto death. Most women would rather live and see their children safe than die and let them starve. The sermon was not lost on Drustina's companions for she was woman they had grown to love and respect, a woman who had led them successfully through many a challenge.
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina and her companions complete their 'tour of inspection' to ascertain the general preparedness of the Saxons and Mercians to combat the Norse threat. Finally they return to Winchester to witness the marriage of Ethelred the Wessex king to Sonala the Mercian Princess.
The Angry Mermaid 91
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 91
Drustina glowered at the rain from under her cape. It was supposed to be early summer but nobody had told the rain gods. Seripatese snickered irritably as she struggled to keep her footing in the mud and eventually Drustina was forced to give up on any further efforts to reach Nottingham that night. The mud had splashed up onto everybody’s thighs as they had been compelled to dismount. They came upon a gorge with an overhanging ridge of rock and it proved too attractive to ignore. She waved wearily to Carl and the column was stopped.
“We might as well set camp here tonight. That overhang has left a substantial dry area and at least we humans can find some comfort. The horses will have to weather it out but at least we’ve got covers for them.”
Carl nodded and a well established routine quickly brought order and comfort to the troop. Several fires were lit and Drustina, like all the others, was glad to be drying her clothes within an hour of entering the gorge. The night proved more comfortable than she had anticipated for the abundant heaps of dry windblown leaves provided both insulation and softness on the ground. After eagerly sharing of the communal pot of boiling broth, she was glad to fling herself down amidst the thick carpet of leaves and quickly fell asleep. Her slumber was briefly disturbed when Carl cuddled up to her but she was back asleep almost as soon as his massive arm had reached around her. The sun was well up before she finally woke to find the camp busy with the morning routines. The fire was already burning well and a thick porridge was being prepared. Drustina sniffed appreciatively and her stomach rumbled in response. As she returned from the stream she spotted two earthenware pots.
“Where did the milk and honey come from?” She asked as she peeped into the pots.
“One of the men found a bee-hive and smoked them out. The milk is from one of the mares. It’s not much but her foal is almost weaned and it was a pity to miss the opportunity of tapping off her excess milk.”
“You’d better give it to the girls and the children. Their needs are greater than ours.”
“That was the plan Dru.”
She grinned ruefully.
“I thought so.”
As they broke camp it was a late start and the skies were still murky but at least the rain had stopped. They plodded along muddy roads until they arrived at a small town where they stopped overnight. They resumed travelling the next day and they arrived at Nottingham two days later. They were delayed at the gates briefly until the guards had reassured themselves there was no danger and they finally entered to be met by Edrinor himself who came galloping down the main street sending people flying in every direction.
“Dammit Drustina, why didn’t you send a herald to let me know?”
“The less people who know where we are and what we’re about, the safer it is for everybody; everybody who’s legitimate that is.”
“There are still Viking raiding parties abroad. I have not the resources to guard every village and hamlet.”
“You only have to guard the south bank of the Umbre estuary then their way to Nottingham and Lincoln is blocked.”
“But they can invade all the way down the coast. They can attack Lincoln from the sea to the east if they wish. Thus I have to garrison the cities. I cannot guard every little settlement.”
Drustina was forced to concede that Edrinor was shackled by his responsibilities. The Vikings had virtually a free reign in the northern waters and the eastern coasts. Their ships were free to roam at will. The only really successful tactic was to meet the Vikings at sea and beat them. Edrinor recognised this with his next breath.
“What I’d give to have your ships up here?”
“Well I’m sorry, I cannot be in two places at once, nor can my ships. Our tour is to determine the best resolution to the Viking occupations of the north and Cymru, not to mention Scotia and Hibernia.”
“Have you any ideas?”
“Some, but they are not for all ears. Carl, Althred and I would speak with you in your private chambers if you are willing.”
“Be my guest, but first I must offer you food.”
“Have you plenty?”
“Yes. We are well stocked. Nottingham could withstand a year of siege.”
For the present, Drustina kept her counsel but the idea of the castle and city at Nottingham having plenty while plundered villagers faced starvation for the coming winter was not something that impressed her. On her travels during that late spring and early summer, the crops did not look particularly healthy or abundant. She paused in the great market square and set about making her troop comfortable. Tara took responsibility for the women while the lieutenants attended each to their own platoon. Edrinor fretted while Drustina checked that all was satisfactory with her companion warriors.
“Must we fuss so?” he asked.
Drustina shrugged and decided to demonstrate to Edrinor her ideas about leading troops.
“Yes, I must fuss. I will see my men well housed and fed for we have endured many a night under the stars ... or rainclouds for that matter. They need shelter more than they need food. “
After an hour co-operating with Althred and Carl she finally attended Edrinor again.
“Sorry to keep you waiting but their needs must be met first. My men come first for without them, the lioness is but alone and powerless.”
She could see that Edrinor was a little nonplussed at her willingness to detain him, a king no less, but this time it was for Edrinor to keep his counsel. He needed the Lioness, her troops, her warrior skills but most of all her fleet if the alliance with Wessex was to be successful. She and Carl exchanged knowing smiles with Althred as they finally set off to the Castle.
There they met again with Tara and Drustina’s immediate coterie of female companions. They were already bathed and ready for dinner. Drustina and her two commanders decided to forego a wash and sat straight down to eat. There was much to discuss after the meal in the privacy of the king’s chamber. It was late in the evening before Drustina and the two lieutenants finally got to wash and close to the middle hour before they found their beds. In the privacy of their bed chamber Drustina ‘pillow-talked’ with Carl about the Mercian king.
“He doesn’t seem to have much heart to go out and take the Vikings on.”
“That’s what I thought,” Carl replied then added, “Althred is of much the same opinion. I get the feeling he’s prepared to fight the Vikings until every Wessex soldier or yours are dead.”
“He’s got huge numbers on his side though, his Kingdom stretches from the Umbre to the Tamsis and to the Severn.”
“Yeah but his communications are poor. At least Ethelred has seen sense to take our advice and repair the old Roman roads. You saw what a state the Mercian roads are in; mud up to our knees for mile after mile. It would take him months to muster all his forces and meet the Vikings in sufficient numbers to ensure success.”
“Aye and that only if they struck in the Umbre area,” Drustina added, “if they take their ships and attack at Londinium or cross over the Pennines by Mancunium, Edrinor would be hard pressed to face them anywhere.”
“And all he talked about was defending his own realm if and when the Vikings do finally attack, which I believe they are certain to do.”
Drustina nodded.
“A man of inaction methinks; a man who can only think defensively.”
“Not the most reliable of Allies I’ll hazard.” Carl reflected.
“It seems if we are to defeat this Viking threat, we must somehow invite the Vikings to attack at a time and place of our choosing.”
“Well I’m not taxing my brain tonight, let’s sleep on that idea.” Carl sighed as he turned over and placed his arm on Drustina’s arse.”
She smiled and chuckled as his fingers slipped hopefully towards her belly.
“Which brain will you be taxing tonight Saxon?” She giggled as she pressed her femininity against a Saxon invader she had come to know well.
~o000o~
Carl stirred the next morning only to find the bed empty. Disappointed at this, he craned his head to see Drustina staring out of the brightly sunlit window. She turned and smiled as she heard him stirring.
“We should be making tracks back to Winchester if we’re to attend Princess Sonala’s wedding. We’ve only got a month and who knows how many of those days will be raining?”
“We’ll be travelling with Edrinor’s party so we can’t actually be late; Edrinor has to give his sister away.”
Drustina nodded and grinned.
“I’d prefer to leave plenty of time for the journey though. Sod’s law states that we’re bound to encounter at least one or more problems, the bigger our procession, the more things there are to go wrong.”
At breakfast, Edrinor proved to be of a like mind. He explained to the three as they ate.
“Nottingham to Winchester will take at least a month especially with all the ceremonial that will assuredly arise in every town and city of any note. They will all be trying to make my overnight stops memorable feasts.”
“Then send your heralds ahead and explain the need for despatch.” Drustina urged.
“It would be better if we were to bypass the towns and slip by each town to make camp as and where the night befalls us. Supplies can be bought as and where we need as we pass the towns.” Edrinor replied.
Drustina added.
“That’s more or less what we have done throughout our tour of your and Ethelred's realms, We only entered a city when we needed to assess things. Plenty of people to question. I would support your idea of avoiding the cities when you can. Besides, there’s less chance for any ambush attempt if people don’t know exactly where your column is.”
Edrinor raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
“D’you seriously think we might be attacked, in the heart of my own kingdom?”
“You can never tell. You’d be a very tempting target; you have no heirs as yet so if the enemy could somehow bump you off, there would be discord and strife bubbling up throughout your realm.”
“Well I suppose that’s true,” Edrinor conceded.
Carl chuckled.
“My advice your majesty is to beget yourself an heir as soon as.”
Edrinor pulled a wry smile.
“Let’s just get my sister married off first aye? Then I can worry about my own affairs.”
The mutual agreement amongst them led to a thoughtful silence as they left the breakfast table to prepare for the journey.
That same afternoon, the column, some four hundred strong, slipped out of Nottingham without fanfare. They made good speed for the roads were dry and dust free after the recent rain.
Three weeks later, to everybody’s relief, they arrived at Winchester saddle sore and dusty from the road.
Edrinor immediately made himself known to his sister Princess Sonala who was still a guest if her future husband King Ethelred. Drustina stopped overnight only briefly to sort various issues out with Ethelred then she pressed on to Sotona with Carl and
Althred. She was desperate to rejoin her companions and check the situation amongst her fleet of ships.
After reassuring themselves that all was as it should be, the three returned to Winchester a week later to attend the wedding preparations of Ethelred and Sonala.
To Carl and Drustina the degree of ceremonial seemed unnecessarily complicated and long-winded but the kept their thoughts to themselves. Compared with their simple pagan promise to each other, it seemed that the Cardinal’s intentions were more to promote the power and pomp of the new Christian church and its newfound status in the Saxon community than establishing the sincerity and intensity of the promises to be made by Ethelred and Sonala to each other.
The more Drustina saw of the rehearsals and preparations the less she was impressed. When Cardinal Craklow finally invited her to bear witness to the union she expressed her feelings privately but in no uncertain terms.
“I will sign my name as witness to their contract; I owe that much to the princess and the king, but I will have no part in the nodding and bobbing all that wailing and chanting, it gives me the creeps.”
Cardinal Craklow frowned but he was thankful Drustina had declared her feelings in the privacy of his chambers in the Bishops palace. The lioness’s fame and universally held affection would still add to the spectacle when she advanced across the aisle in full battle regalia simply to sign the registry then return to her prominent position set aside and just below the communion rail. Everybody who was invited to the wedding would certainly see the lioness and that alone would add gravity to the ceremony. Drustina knew that her fame was being exploited but if this alone served to endear more of the Angles and Saxons and Mercians to her campaign against the Vikings, it was a small price for her to pay. Simply sitting prominently on what was tantamount to a minor throne for several hours was little sacrifice to make if it added allies to her anti-Viking cause.
After Carl and Drustina had scanned the ceremonial organisation they returned to their chambers and prepared to bath before dinner. As Drustina stripped unashamedly before her already naked husband Carl grinned at his partner and remarked.
“They’re going to dress us up like bloody royalty and we’re nothing of the sort at heart. You’ll be stuck out there like some sort of ceremonial prize, a stuffed lioness in all its glittering finery. Shall I polish your sword ma-am?”
Drustina grinned and thumped him affectionately on the shoulder.
“Stoppit you oaf. You’ll be there as well, poncing about with all the fancy armour they can hang on you. We’ll look like a pair of bloody trophies. Let’s just hope it endears them to my cause when we go up against those bloody Norsemen.”
“So where and when d’you think that will be Dru?”
“I was thinking somewhere near that bloody great fortress of Deva. There’s city and fort enough to house a substantial army and the County Palinate of Cheshire is rich enough with wheat to feed a multitude for a year. There's also two estuaries up there to give any fleet manoeuvres flexibility and scope. If we can somehow entice the main Viking force to attack Deva from the north and west it means we might be able to trap them on the Wirral peninsular. We would be able to attack them from the sea on three sides while they have to somehow try and take that massive fortress of Deva to the South and east.”
“That would necessitate your gaining control of the Celtic sea.” Carl observed.
Drustina smiled wryly.
“Listen my idiot husband, I was born and bred in those waters. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s the Celtic sea and all its tempers. I know every inch of rock and exactly how the tides flow. Besides, I will have natural allies on almost every shore, Cambrian, Hibernian and Manx. I’m hoping the Celts will come to join my banner once they learn of us and our fleet.”
Carl nodded sagely. Once thing he knew for certain, if anybody had the Charisma and fame to win loyalties it was the battle-scarred beauty who stood naked before him right then. As ever when Carl noticed her beauty, Drustina somehow sensed the attraction between them and they fell into each other’s arms before bathing. After pleasing each other, they were ready to bathe.
~o000o~
The following Woden’s day was Midsummer’s day, the day set for Princess Sonala’s wedding. For all her reservations about the cant and ceremonial, Drustina was very taken with the decorations of the church. She smiled to herself as she noted pagan symbolism in many of the flora that was chosen to decorate the altar and various furnishings not to mention the assorted trailers, creepers and climbers wound around every pillar that supported the vast roof. As Drustina strode into the church on that morning, the vast expanse of flora reminded her of nothing more than some great natural bower or forest glade. Naturally the vast nave of the cathedral church was filled with the citizenry from the city of Winchester and Drustina savoured the pleasant, casual mingling as just about everybody came to admire the decoration. There was so much greenery and floribunda that Drustina felt compelled to approach one of the attending priests who was monitoring the guests who were invited into the choir.
“I’m surprised your church or your faith approves of all this floral decoration.”
“It’s the cardinal’s idea Lioness.” He replied with a wry smile. “I suspect your feelings influenced his own ideas but he decided that if God made the flowers and the trees then God would not object to them decorating his house.”
Drustina smiled back. She had absolutely no argument with the Cardinal’s idea. 'Flowers brightened up even the meanest hovel.'
Having exhausted her perambulations amongst the expectant throng she finally took up her invitation to enter the choir as the approaching clamour of the bridal procession made itself known in the cathedral close. As she settled in the seat allotted to her, she exchanged glances with Carl across the choir at the opposite end of the altar communion rail. When she sat, the clank of her trusty Toledo blade clanked against the chair leg and Ethelred turned to smile nervously at her. Drustina smiled back as she re-arranged her sword and her casual act served to calm the king’s nerves. Althred, the Saxon fleet commander also turned to grin at Drustina. He was Ethelred’s supporter and closest to Drustina. Finally, cardinal Craklow emerged from the Vestry to take his station facing the nervous king.
“Nervous?” He asked King Ethelred.
“Yes, more so than my coronation, it’s the waiting. Why are brides always late?”
“It’s their privilege majesty, the most important day of their lives.” Craklow replied.
Drustina smiled inwardly. She might have debated the cardinal’s words but there was neither the time nor the place. She, like everybody else, wanted Sonala’s day to be a happy one. Instead she turned and peered down the aisle to see Edrinor escorting his sister up the aisle to ‘give her away’. This was an expression that rankled with Drustina but she had already conceded that this was Sonala’s special day and nothing was to spoil it. She took her cue from the choristers and stood as they started to chant some tedious anthem. Drustina had little time for the liturgies and chants that seemed to accompany all the different ceremonies of this new faith. She wondered why the musicians didn’t play one of the lively melodious songs that accompanied the old pagan marriage ceremony.
Eventually, Sonala passed under the rood screen at the transept and entered the choir. Ethelred turned to smile at her and she lowered her eyes demurely. To Drustina it seemed as though she was already somehow acknowledging her reduced status. No longer a high-born free woman but a wife, a chattel apparently promising to love, honour and obey. Drustina would never have acceded to such a diminution but then few women had ever fought and led men as Drustina had ... and still did!
~oo000oo~
Drustina completes her 'Tour of Inspection' of the Saxon and Mercian realms then makes preparations to espy the western Celtic seas and realms to ascertain what can be done to thwart the growing Norse threat.
The Angry Mermaid 92
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 92.
After Sonala’s wedding celebrations were eventually completed Drustina and Althred returned to Sotona where they commenced preparations for Drustina’s departure to the Celtic sea. The plan was to circumnavigate the toe of Dumnoniia and enter Celtic waters a few weeks after mid-summer, ideally before the 7th month of July was completed. Her plan was to call at as many Dumnoniian and Cambrian townships as the weather allowed. She was taking four of her fastest ships with Carl and Althred as her lieutenants. The more she could teach them of the Celtic Sea the better it would be for any plans or battles that would invariably ensue when she commenced her August Tactics against Viking traders up and down the Celtic sea and the Scottish islands. Her intention was to send a loud message to the Norsemen that the west was no longer theirs’ to treat as their own private fiefdom.
In preparation for Drustina’s expedition she spent a week with Althred out on the waters around Ynys Wit and demonstrated just what the Angry Mermaid was capable of. He was impressed and said so when they returned to meet Carl on the quay at Sotona. He had been in long talks with Ethelred and Edrinor about plans to deal with the Viking threat.
Althred was glad to see the Saxon and he leapt ashore to chat enthusiastically.
“Drustina’s ship, The Angry Mermaid, her speed is unbelievable and the punishment she withstands, ‘tis scarce to be described. Thrice I thought we were done for as she slammed into a wave at a speed that would have shattered the timbers of a longboat, Norse or Saxon!”
As Carl just smiled enigmatically, Drustina explained.
“It’s the wood Althred; ‘Derwen Cymraeg’ or Welsh Oak to you. The tree is very slow growing for the soil is poor, the climate harsh and the altitude high were the mountain winds test and bend and twist the tree even as it grows. The tree must compensate for this cruel treatment thus the grain of the wood is as close and tight as any you’ll find. Take a piece that’s been seasoning for five years or more and you’ll scarce drive an iron nail into it. Weight for weight it is one of the toughest and most enduring woods there is. The great irony is this, to work such wood a shipwright needs the hardest sharpest iron in the box and only in the very north of Svenland does the best such iron lie. The Norsemen are too dumb to realise they have the best iron right on their doorstep. So rich is the ore that even the very rock from which it is torn is attracted to the Norse goddess Freya whose wondrous lights set the northern skies on fire. I showed you that lode-stone that always pointed to Freya’s eye. The iron to work the Mermaid’s timbers came only from such a stone. There is magic we do not understand right throughout the Mermaid’s bones.”
“Such Magic must make men affeared.” Althred hazarded.
“Why should they be affeared? I worked with such magic as you call it when I built this ship as a child, it never harmed me. Once my land is returned to me, I’ll work with it again so do not call me a sorceress. There is no evil in this ship or her captain. Not all magic is evil.”
For want of better knowledge, Althred was forced to accept Drustina’s wisdom.
‘After all,’ he told himself, ‘she is half man and half woman herself. There could be no stranger being throughout all Christendom.’
In thoughtful silence he followed Carl and Drustina as they chatted about Ethelred’s ideas to meet the Viking invaders at a time and place of Saxon choosing. Drustina nodded then intimated that she would speak privately with Ethelred. She accepted Ethelred’s ideas about battle tactics but she had a strategy that was every bit as vital to victory as all of Ethelred’s training and preparation.
For the present, she kept her battle plan firmly in her own head. Even Carl and Althred were precluded until she had sounded out the degree of Ethelred’s commitment to fight a major battle outside his own kingdom. The Wirral peninsular technically lay in Edrinor’s realm while the giant fortress of Deva was almost a self-governing entity insofar as it survived essentially by denying Vikings sea-born access to the rich lush plains of the County Palinate of Cheshire. The garrison however was costly and thus required the farmers and peasants of those plains to contribute to the supply and support of the men in Deva. Fortunately the Mercians and Saxons who depended on Deva’s might for protection were more than willing to deal with the fortress city for it secured their peace from Irish and Norse attacks.
Realising that Deva was a lynch pin to securing victory in the North West Drustina had formulated her plan to repel the Vikings.
The Saxons and Mercians would have to trap the Viking Army in a small area like say the Wirral peninsular and force them to stand either with their backs to the sea on any one of three sides or trapped against the ramparts of the mighty Roman fortress of Deva. On these tactics Drustina had based her plan and it required good co-operation from Ethelred’s forces.
Two days after leaving Carl and Althred to supervise military training for all of Ethelred’s forces in Sotona, Drustina at long last managed to get the Wessex king alone in his Winchester palace.
It was the night that Edrinor had finally decided to return to Nottingham after drinking deep of Ethelred’s hospitality.
That evening Drustina found Ethelred in his chancery ruefully counting the cost of the royal wedding and the subsequent hospitality. She approached softly as he lay bent over the books; so softly that she startled him when she spoke.
“Costly business?” She asked softly.
Ethelred lurched backwards with fright before he realised it was his finest ally.
“God forbid Drustina! You startled me!”
Drustina chuckled as she apologised.
Sorry Eth’ I would have thought the cost of all these celebrations might have startled you more.”
Ethelred sighed and wagged his head.
“By god you are not wrong! Those Mercian’s know how to celebrate, just look at these figures.”
“I’ll wager your own Saxons can compare with them. I saw plenty of booze pouring down plenty of necks this last month or so.”
“Not down mine you didn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair on my new bride.”
Drustina’s eyes widened with admiration.
“Well I’m very glad to hear of that Your Majesty, it’s not many grooms who’ll consider their bride’s wishes even on the nuptial night.”
“My mother warned me, no bride likes her groom coming to the bed drunk and incapable.”
“Very wise words Eth and my respect for you has increased commensurately. But enough of your wedding night, you and I have other considerations, namely the Viking threat from the north.”
Ethelred sighed.
“Yes, I know, everybody knows they have designs on the south and centre of this island. I know that the inevitable war is going to cost me dear? Have you any further thoughts?” He asked.
Drustina paused as she debated how to put her ideas to Ethelred.
“Well, I don’t think they’re going to attack immediately; not for a year anyway. But I’m sure you will be facing a battle if not a war within two years.”
Ethelred nodded with a sigh.
“Aaaahhyye! On that I think we can both agree, what are your thoughts about dealing with them?”
Drustina smiled inwardly. ‘At least the man was prepared to listen’ she thought. After considering the way forward she presented her ideas.
“I think I have a plan that might firstly give you time to prepare and secondly spread the cost so as to reduce the financial burden.”
Having just lamented the cost of his wedding, Ethelred was more than prepared to look at any plan that might reduce the costs to his exchequer. he looked at Drustina quizzically.
“This sounds as though you’ve thought about things more than most. My earls and lieutenants just never seem to realise the cost of war. They are full of bombast and swagger but they never realise that these campaigns cost money.
It’s refreshing to hear ideas from somebody who has obviously had to count the cost of war. That is something of a relief for me because all my earls talk of is your military prowess; they never think of your other qualities. You are sensible Drustina and I need good advisors around me at this difficult time. So what do you propose?”
Drustina laid out her plan in stages firstly to allow the Wessex king to digest it all and secondly to elicit objections.
“Well firstly, we have to buy time. Edrinor might be our Ally but he is hopelessly ill-equipped to conduct any naval campaign so I’m afraid that is down to us. Basically, we can delay the Norsemen if we can weaken their holdings to the North of Deva. That is above a line joining the Deevus Estuary to the Umbre estuary.”
“Go on; I’m with you so far, how do you intend to achieve it?”
“We start a campaign of attrition and piracy in the Celtic seas. I choose that area because I know the waters well and I can expect good support from my fellow Celts; that is Cambrian, Hibernian and Manx.
Once we have disrupted trade, just as the Vikings did; then that forces Harald Cold-blood, King Constin of Scotia and Forden of Hibernia to act to defend themselves. If they don’t we will have re-opened the sea route to Deva down the estuary of the Deevus and that adds both to our economic and military capabilities.”
“Can you do that Lioness? Have we ships enough?”
“I don’t know yet. That is why I wish to sail to the Celtic sea now. I need firstly to assess their defences and preparations and secondly to evaluate what support the Celts can offer me. Any assistance they can give will ultimately help you.”
“Is this not a bit late in the year to start your campaign? I know it’s high summer now, but by the time you get organised in those waters, autumn will be upon us then you won’t have much time. The storms will seriously hamper your activities.”
Drustina nodded slowly and smiled knowingly.
“The storms are an essential part of my plan. The mermaid class of ships are infinitely better equipped to handle the western seas and their great waves. I have sailed those waters since childhood. The seaworthiness and seeking qualities of the Mermaid class ships will enable our campaign to outlast any longship activities by at least a month, possibly two. I’m depending on that to enable me to sail freely on the Celtic sea when the longships have difficulty setting sail from harbour. The weather will be rough I grant you, and conditions will be brutally hard for my crews but that’s something they and I will have to endure. Besides, it will make seamen of them.
If I fail and the storms overwhelm me, then I will be dead or captive; you will have to make your own alternative plans.”
“I’m not sure I can afford to lose you. Can you not send your commanders Carl and Heliox in your stead?”
“They have never sailed those waters. In truth Eth, nobody from my fleet has ever sailed those waters. I am alone in this for only I have the knowledge. Furthermore, whilst my Celtic countrymen would almost certainly follow me, I think they would be loath to follow a Saxon. You would be hard put to forge an alliance with the Celts, too much has gone before.”
Ethelred nodded resignedly. The Lioness’s words were simply too true.
Having mostly convinced the Wessex king that her plan was sound, she then set about beating out the details. The most important item being the establishment of good lines of communication. They spent an afternoon creating a code for locations, salient features, headlands, tidal conditions and other important aspects like weather conditions and conditions of readiness in various Viking strongholds like Bael ar y Claidd before finally retiring for dinner. The following day they completed their arrangements and two days later Drustina set sail to the west with four of her best Mermaid class ships and her most reliable commanders namely Carl, Heliox and Althred. She also took along Harald Cold-blood’s daughter Gisela after reasoning there might be some occasion when the girl’s presence might serve some advantage.
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina continues on her journey towards the Celtic sea to access the Viking supremacy. On the way she stops in at Bohor on the Val to renew old alliances and acquire a pilot navigator with recent knowledge of the current Viking threat.
The Angry Mermaid 93
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Y Morforwyn Dicllon 93
Beating down the channel towards Dumnoniia gave each commander some practice in dealing with the ever increasing size of the large swells that rolled in relentlessly from the west. All three of Drustina’s commanders knew enough to realise that for such swells to have accumulated their height and length, they must have been born and raised in huge expanses of water by immense winds. Once, when they overnighted in some quiet creek her commanders discussed these immense rolling waves.
"The sea to the west must be of unimaginable size,” Carl observed. “D’you think anybody has ever crossed it?”
Drustina shrugged.
“I’ve heard tales of Viking traders reaching a land the call ‘Vinland’; then some time before I was driven from my home, there was talk of a Hibernian Monk, I can't remember his name; it was Bredan or Brentan or something; anyway he set sail to the West though I never heard what happened. In both instances I have no idea if either of them, Viking or Celt ever succeeded or indeed, returned.”
“And what of these strange creatures we see very occasionally? Those weird round ones with the shells on their backs!” Heliox wondered.
Drustina nodded and shrugged easily. She had seen the turtles of which they spoke many times, though mostly around the Iberian lands. Indeed, until the others raised the issues, she had not even thought to comment upon them. She explained.
“Carl and I saw them plenty of times. I have seen them further to the south in these great western seas and in the Mediterranean. Carl also saw them in the Mediterranean. They make good eating as well.
As to the great rolling swells you see, these are nothing compared to the winter seas.”
“Aye, well I’ve never seen swells as high and as long as these before but as to the turtles, yes, the Moors considered them a great delicacy.” Carl added.
As she poked the fire and invited Gisela to join them, Drustina spoke to Althred.
“You’re quiet tonight Commander, a penny for your thoughts.”
Althred continued staring into the campfire flames for some moments then he spoke softly.
“I’m just wondering if or when we’ll see Wessex again.”
“We all wonder that Commander.” Drustina replied. “Whether by sword or drowning, ‘tis better to die a free man than under the yoke of the Norsemen.”
“And what of the girl?” He nodded towards Gisela. “She is Norse; would she be enslaved if we were captured?”
Gisela bristled indignantly.
“I’ve seen what the Vikings do. I’m not proud of my father’s ways. Look what he did to me!”
“What did he do?” Althred replied. “I never got the full story.”
Gisela turned to Drustina.
“Should I tell him?”
“It’s your story girl. I’m not one to judge any for being themselves.”
Gisela turned to Althred and snapped angrily.
“He would most probably kill me. I don’t know if he even realises I’m still alive! I was supposed to cover myself in glory or die trying, not let myself become a captive of the Saxons.”
“Why?” Althred pressed.
Drustina interrupted before the girl betrayed too much of herself and her nature.
“She did not please her father Althred. She was expected to marry some great oaf of a Viking Jarl and she refused. Her father took offence and forced her to make a promise. As a punishment she was banned from Norvegia and despatched to win some sort of battle for her father or die trying, preferably in some distant battle with the Saxons. If she won her battle he would consider her being allowed home to choose her own husband. Though what I know of Cold-blood I think he would still expect her to make some sort of political marriage to forward his own plans. He treated all his own daughters like some sort of chattels. However, none of his plans have come to fruition.”
Drustina grinned as she contemplated how her meeting the young Viking princess had completely scotched Harald’s plans. She continued on Gisela’s behalf.
“Instead of fighting Saxons, she came up against a Celt ... me. So technically, she hasn’t broken any vow to her father. She never surrendered to a Saxon ... a Celt, yes but not a Saxon.”
Althred’s brow wrinkled curiously.
“That’s a pretty fine distinction. Is this because Cold-blood’s got no sons? Did she have to make the vow to escape her father’s
wrath?”
Drustina could see that Althred, despite his proven loyalty and intelligence was very much like other Saxon and Norse nobility. He still seemed to consider noble women like Gisela to be nothing more than political pawns, traded as bargaining chips to cement alliances. It rankled Drustina somewhat but she did not let it get under her skin. She decided to curtail Althred’s inquisitiveness before it opened up the can of worms about Gisela’s undisclosed sexuality. Only Drustina fully understood the girl’s nature. She cut the conversation short
“Yeah, she offended her father and he’s not the sort to take such an act lightly. He banned her from his kingdom or something like that. Let it drop now Althred. Is that stew cooked?”
Carl dipped a ladle into the cauldron and extended a cautious lip.
“Just about, give it a couple more minutes.”
Drustina caught Gisela’s eye.
“Go and get some more wood for the fire and let everybody know that food is about to be served.”
It was a ploy to get Gisela out of sight briefly and therefore out of mind. Drustina’s cautionary glance warned Gisela that the Lioness did not want any more to be revealed about Gisela’s past or her sexual nature. There was no knowing how some of the bigoted, superstitious Christians of Wessex might take on about Gisela’s sexuality. If their expedition met with any setbacks like severe storms such men were bound to come looking for bad omens ar causes. Drustina knew that encountering such storms was a certainty but the superstitious ones were too ignorant to realise that.
Some of the Wessex men in Althred’s crew were known to be superstitious and pious bigots. Their new, ‘one god’ faith had also fomented a new superstition that women were unlucky on warships. Drustina had never before encountered any such superstition until she met with the Christian Wessex Saxons. She wondered how the Christian prejudices about women on board warships applied in her case. She smiled inwardly as she considered the irony. It seemed that not a man amongst Althred’s crew dared to question the ‘luck’ that the Lioness seemed to carry with her wherever she went. She looked up to see Carl proffering her a bowl of Stew and some bread so she smiled ‘thank-you’ and satiated the gnawing hunger in her belly.
As the lioness ate, Gisela returned with several of the men dragging either driftwood from the beach or rotten branches from the trees that grew down almost to the storm-beach. Drustina made space for the girl beside her on the log and Gisela took it gratefully. She had already sensed some animosity and accusative glares from the crew of Althred’s ship. After eating, she chose to break the wood up into manageable pieces using boulders off the beach. This kept her away from any potential conflict evoked by talking to the men.
Eventually the expedition turned to thoughts of sleep. Glad to be on ‘Terra firma’ they set their guards and slept without interruption. Gisela was glad to accept Drustina’s invitation to sleep close beside her while Carl slept on the outside. There could be no uninvited approaches by some dumb, hopeful crewman from Althred’s crew, who might have been stupid enough to ‘fancy his chances’.
Dawn arrived with the threat of rain but it held off while breakfast was prepared and eaten. The skies finally opened as they were setting sail but fortunately there were no squalls, just a steady, irritating fall of penetrating summer rain. Finally at around noon, the skies cleared and Drustina recognised the familiar entrance to the Val. She called across to Carl with evident satisfaction.
“We can put in here. The Dumnonii are old friends.”
“Carl, who knew much of the sagas surrounding his companion, called back.
“Isn’t this the place you killed Blueface?”
“The very same, Penderol the chief sent the Dumnonii ships from here to help fight Cold-blood’s fleet last summer.”
“So we should meet with Udris again.”
“If he isn’t in Brithony; yes.”
“I’d like to meet him; he can bring us up to date about Viking activity hereabouts.”
Drustina nodded then replied.
“That's exactly what I'm hoping. If he can’t then Penderol can. Udris told me there was regular trade between Dumnonii and Brithony even some trade between Dumnonii and Demetae. Though that was sporadic depending how active the Vikings are. Udris has had a few clashes with Viking probes into the Dumnonii realms. When he fought beside me in the Solanta he told me several useful pointers about their tactics and ambitions.”
“He’d be a useful ally to have again. He must know these waters even better than you, especially if he’s met with the enemy in Demetae waters.”
“Oh definitely, I’ve only ever passed through those waters twice; once when my father took me trading when I was quite small then the second time was when I was escaping from the Viking attack on my homeland. If Udris isn’t available, I’m thinking of asking Penderol for a navigator anyway.”
“One we can trust I hope.”
“Really Carl, sometimes you anger me. The man will be a Celt, just like me. We even speak the same tongue!”
Carl was not to be deterred by Drustina’s assumptions and he replied.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned during all our battles and tribulations together, it is not to judge any man or woman by his or her tribe. I hope we can find Udris. I do trust him!”
~~oo000oo~~
It transpired that Carl’s hopes were fulfilled. Even as Drustina’s little squadron approached the familiar quay of Bohor, a welcome mop of red hair pushed its way to the press of humanity and identified himself as Udris. Drustina skipped joyfully ashore and hugged him affectionately as Carl followed suit and embraced their erstwhile ally. Althred also smiled for his fears were eased at the sight of the one Celt beside the Lioness whom he knew he could trust. Happy at their reception, they joined Udris as he led them to the new Palace that had replaced the one burned by the Vikings in the attack where Drustan the thirteen-year-old lad (Now Drustina the twenty-something woman) had long ago felled the dreaded Blueface.
When the lioness entered the palace great hall, Penderol let out a cry of delight then tugged eagerly at her arm.
“Come warrior there is something of yours I have for you.”
Drustina knew what it was. The memory of that fearful fight had never left her and the scar that wrapped its way up and around the cheek of her arse from her womanhood to her waist even to that day occasionally reminded her with a twinge as the flesh sometimes reacted to an over extension of her thigh. As Penderol led her to a room that obviously served as some sort of shrine or relic depository he turned her with moistened eyes.
“My God Lioness, I find it scarcely believable that you were once a cheeky scrawny lad who could not even lift the sword of the brute you killed. Looking at you now mi-lady, I would never dream of being so crass as to sight your scar to prove your identity. I can still see the lad in that smile and those eyes. Here you are Lioness, the sword you won honestly that day. As bright and shiny as the day the giant lost it. It is yours by right and yours for the taking. Here! We have only ever held it in trust!”
He reached out to take the sword from its bracket on the wall then held it out to her. Drustina took the sword and her arm sagged slightly with the effort of holding it out. She grunted with amusement as she lowered it to the floor to ease the load on her wrist.
“Damn. I’d forgotten how bloody heavy it was. It was too big for me then and it’s too ungainly for me now. My maid’s wrist will never swing this monster in anger. T’would be more a hindrance than a help. You might as well stick it back on the wall for all the good it does me.”
Penderol took the proffered weapon and frowned.
“So what shall we do with it?”
“I don’t know. It will always be too bloody cumbersome for me.”
“But it is held in great esteem by our warriors. We have waited all these years for you to redeem your trophy.”
Drustina gave a wan smile.
“Well that’s all it ever will be to me; a trophy. Can’t you add it to your tribal regalia or even present it to King Dryslwyn as some sort of ceremonial sword?”
Penderol sucked his lip.
“Nobody but you is entitled to do that. It’s still your sword by right of conquest.”
“Very well, I suppose we could have some sort of ceremony tonight when we dine. We could elevate the sword to a ceremonial instrument for electing each new chieftain when the clans meet. In all honesty Penderol, it’s absolutely no use to me even though I have to say it’s an excellent sword. I’m only sorry I’ll never have the arm to swing it usefully. I’m a maid now Penderol... well, my arms are maidenly.”
“Well that’s the truth Lioness and if you’ll pardon my saying so, a very comely maid. Carl is a lucky man!”
She hefted the sword with both arms and fixed it back onto the bracket where it had hung since she had left the Dumnonii so many years ago. Then she turned to Penderol and shrugged apologetically.
“It might as well remain there until we live in more certain times. For now I am seeking only to see what we can see of the Celtic sea and it’s new masters.”
Penderol nodded and moved the conversation on.
“Come let’s meet with my chieftains, many of them remember only a scrawny boy when last we met. Whatever magic has beset you, they’ll still want to set eyes on ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ if only to say they once met the only Celt who has truly defeated a Viking fleet.”
“You flatter me Penderol, there was a host of Gauls, Saxons and Dumnonii Celts who had a hand in that battle.”
“If you say so, come then, my son and daughters are itching to meet you!”
For the rest of the afternoon, Drustina fulfilled her social duties while her men spent time refurbishing their ships and re-vittling. That night a hasty feast was prepared and the following day Drustina’s flotilla resumed its journey with an extra ancient Viking longship for company. Udris had agreed to join them and they decided collectively that one of the old captured Viking longships could serve their interests in many different ways, not least being used as a decoy or disguise.
For two days a ‘Gwynt-Cymraeg’ (Welshman’s wind*) took them north to Demetae and deeper into Viking held waters. Once they sighted another sail but it swiftly put about and set off to the east, up into the Severn Sea. They did not bother pursuing it or investigating it for Drustina needed to determine the situation in Demetae and the inlet of Aberdaucleddau.
~~oo000oo~~
Author’s note*
A Welshman’s wind is a steady west-south-westerly breeze that takes Welshmen home in comfort to Welsh ports. It’s also known as a ‘Soldier’s wind because little skill is needed to handle a steady WSW wind if the sailor is sailing North east from the south-western approaches to almost anywhere in north, south and west Wales. It’s a nice steady following breeze that’s always abaft the beam no matter where one is travelling to on the Welsh coast be it the North coast, West Coast or South Coast. (Wales has no east coast, that’s the border with England.)
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Drustina makes a landfall in Demetae at 'Aberdaugleddau' (Milford Haven in Modern parlance.) There she finds the situation fairly stable because the Viking's southwards onslaught has been forced back thanks to her previous excecution of Blue-face giving the Celts of Dumnonii and Demetae courage to stand up and resist the scourge. Drustina finds that the Southern Celtic Sea (St George's Channel in modern parlance,) has become a maritime 'no-man's-land' where a naval 'stand-off' prevails. She decides to 'skirt the issue for her first inscursion.
These are 'The Pinnacles' 20 miles offshore from Wales, (Demetae, in Drustina's times.) A veritable graveyard for ships in storms and darkness or fog. Today they are know as 'The Smalls'
The Angry mermaid 94
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Y Morforwyn Dicllon 94.
Thanks to ‘Y-Gwynt-Cymraeg’, Drustina’s flotilla spotted the cliffs of her beloved homeland on the morning of the third day. The flotilla had been slowed by the old Viking ship but it made for a timely and safe daylight sighting of the headlands whilst they were still well out to sea and safe from the deadly pinnacles of rock that lay razor sharp and a few miles west of the entrance Drustina was seeking to find. The sight of the pinnacles served to confirm their location and that brought relief to all the commanders.
Having confirmed that their navigation had been accurate, the sight of the angry surf breaking on the rocks and the deadly tidal rips were no longer a source of danger and dread; they actually cast in Drustina’s heart a hiraeth. This was a deep longing of mixed feelings, yearning, joy, fear, anger, anticipation and excitement. She hailed Udris across the waves and screamed the word; Hiraeth!!!! He grinned widely and raised his arms in understanding. Gisela watched in bemusement then asked.
“What does hiraeth mean?”
Drustina wagged her head and pointed to the islands that lay to the east of the dangerous reef.
“It means I have a longing to see my homeland ... my hills, my rivers and woods; my islands and seas. Hiraeth, it’s a word that means a yearning or a longing. Now I see that land the feelings grow stronger within me.”
Gisela smiled uncertainly.
“I hope you’re not going to grow all soppy and emotional on me and the rest of the men. I don’t want you to take stupid risks because your heart starts ruling your head.”
Drustina wagged her head somewhat sadly.
“Ah, you wouldn’t know what hiraeth means. It’s such a deep rooted feeling it goes even deeper than the heart. Hiraeth is a special word for a very special feeling. Those feelings won’t rule my head but they do and always have ruled my heart. Fear not Viking maid, this Celt knows what she has to do but still is not entirely certain how she’s going to do it.”
Gisela nodded thoughtfully then replied.
“Aye; you can never be certain before a battle. The Godwin reefs taught me that.”
“You cannot blame yourself for that, blame your conceited captains who professed to know those waters. They should never have got themselves trapped between my ships and the Godwin sands. They were too arrogant and too confident. Just be thankful that those reefs were simply sand banks, what hope would there have been for you had you been swept onto rocks like those pinnacles.
Gisela studied the frightening thundering maelstrom around the pinnacles and shuddered as she nodded her head.
“Yes, but it was the bloody waves and the hidden sands that defeated us, not your ships.”
“It was my experience and the local knowledge of my pilot Heliox the young Gaulish fisherman that defeated you. If you learn one lesson about war my girl let it be this; battles are rarely won by might alone but by many factors ... preparation, intelligence, courage, moral, luck, weather, location and timing to name but a few. Now go and relieve Heliox at the helm, I wish to chat with him about Aberdaugleddau.”
Gisela felt a flush of pride that the Lioness now let her steer the ship and trusted her when approaching land or rocky dangers. She hugged herself with satisfaction as she accepted the helm from Heliox who remained impassive as he went to speak to Drustina by the foot of the mast. The order of entry had already been arranged earlier but Heliox needed to be warned about the possibility of tide rips that swirled across the entrance if the tide was flooding or ebbing strongly. She explained the local nature of the seas around rocky headlands that guarded the entrance.
“They call the entrance ‘Pen y cyfog’ or Vomit head to you because the seas get very violent when the tide is against the swell. That’s because many ‘first trippers’ get very sea-sick when they suddenly encounter the short steep waves when they are leaving Aberdaugleddau for the first time.”
“Well we’re all experienced seamen here,” Heliox observed. “But thanks for the warning; I’m thinking these seas are very unpredictable.”
“Exactly, the tide rips start very suddenly and the chop can catch you unawares. Just look how the tide roars and sucks past those rocks.”
Heliox watched Gisela concentrating on the Mermaid’s progress. She was staring intently at the bigger rocks and her tongue was peeping out between her lips, a sure sign of tension and concentration. The Viking girl caught Heliox and Drustina watching her and she blushed but kept her concentration of the Mermaid’s approach. Heliox went to chat to the crew while Drustina joined Gisela.
“See now how the water is calm just there, that means there is upwelling probably caused by a sudden change in the bottom. If we were in a storm with big waves that patch could be a cauldron of violence and death. You are right to keep this far off the pinnacles. When the biggest pinnacle transits the north end of the small island with the flat grassy top then you turn east and steer between the flat topped smaller island and that bigger steeper one further inshore.”
“What are those islands called?”
Drustina shrugged, she’d never thought to ask; she knew them by sight and from memory and that was enough to ensure her ship’s safety.
“I don’t know; they are very useful markers on a clear day like today but a bloody menace in fog or storm or darkness.”
“The small one is very green on top.”
“That will be grass. Trees won’t grow because the wind and sea spray won’t allow it. The salt kills the trees.”
“So why not call it Grass Island because only grass grows there.”
“Call it what you like girl just don’t hit it.”
Gisela grinned then her eyes lit up. Drustina quickly smelt the cause for Gisela’s joy. Hot food was being served. By the time they had finished their meal the wind and tide had carried them close to
Pen-y-cyfog and the seas built up alarmingly. The mermaid ships rode the short breakers easily but the longer Viking ship had to struggle to avoid being swamped. Drustina could hear Udris urging his men to bail and she watched apprehensively until the longship erupted out of the last tempestuous breaker into the calmer water inshore of the traversing rip-tide. Once in Calmer water, the ships gathered together and volunteers joined Udris’s crew in bailing the longship dry. Order was soon restored and it remained for Udris to lead the flotilla inwards to approach the little village on the north shore. Udris had visited the Aberdaugleddau many times but they were never sure whether the Vikings had returned between each visit. Every time they arrived the visit was fraught with uncertainty and possible danger. This visit was no different.
After Drustina had last escaped with her sisters Aiofe and Mabina when they had rescued the Demetae fisher girl Arina, they had left the whole of south-western Demetae occupied by the Vikings. It was only with the killing of Blueface and his marauding band that the Celts had mustered the heart and determination to drive them out. Drustina’s singular act of bravery had been the trigger the Celts needed to stand up to the Vikings with some hope of success. Since driving the Vikings out of Demetae, the Dumnonii and Demetae had been trading regularly but cautiously.
Drustina’s flotilla kept their eyes and wits about them as they sailed cautiously up the Ria. The potential for attack was a serious worry for once they had passed the first narrows, the trees extended right down to the shoreline. As they passed a seemingly abandoned quay Udris explained the situation.
“That’s the village of Llanstad. The houses used to extend right down to the quay but they have moved further back into the trees for safety. Normally I would land here first before travelling further up the inlet. But on previous visits I traded in a different ship to this Viking monster. The villagers have obviously retreated to some sort of defence line because they think we are Vikings.”
“Is there any way we can enlighten them.” Drustina wondered.
“I am flying my banner. They should have recognised that.” Udris explained.
“Perhaps they think we are a Viking warship that has captured you and your flag.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Udris agreed, “one of us is going to have to step ashore.”
“I suppose I’d better do it. We speak the same tongue and I am a woman. When they hear my voice surely they’ll ask first and shoot later.”
“I hope so.” Udris concurred. “Things are always tense around here because it’s the southern limit of Viking depredations.”
Drustina shrugged philosophically and peeled the Mermaid away from Udris’s ship to quickly land against the abandoned quay. As she stepped ashore, her battle trained eye spotted a slight movement further back amidst the dense oak trees so she stepped to the edge of the timberline and called out in Cymraeg. For tense moments nothing happened then a voice called back.
“Who are you?”
She answered, “I am Drustina, the Lioness of Carthage. My companion on the captured Viking ship is Udris of Dumnonii. Do you know him? Is there anybody there who can vouchsafe for Udris?”
Another, deeper voice replied.
“Tell him to show himself. I am Caradric. Tell him that.”
Drustina raised her hand in acknowledgement and returned to the edge of the quay to shout.
“There is somebody called Caradric who wants you to declare yourself.”
“Tell the one-eyed-son-of-an-old-boar I’ll do that but he’d better have some decent beer ready!”
Drustina quickly grasped that this remark was some sort of code and she turned to carry the message back. She had no need. Caradric had obviously recognised Udris’s voice and the expression ‘old-boar’ had revealed that everything was okay on the ships. Already Caradic was hurrying across the tree line and onto the quay with his hand extended in welcome. He was not even waiting for Udris to step ashore for there before him on the quay, if the truth was being told, was the Lioness of Carthage, now deemed by many Welshmen to be the Celtic Messiah. He stumbled the last few steps and seized her hand eagerly.
“Are you truly the Lioness of Carthage?”
Drustina was slightly embarrassed by his feverish enthusiasm but she had to say yes, for she was exactly that ... The Lioness. He wrapped his arms around her in an ecstasy of what Drustina could only think was expectation. She staggered back with the enthusiasm of his embrace.
"Steady sir. You’ll have us both over the edge of the quay."
Her words were immediately proven true for the pair tumbled backwards as Drustina’s heel caught the very rope that moored The Angry mermaid. With a mighty splash the pair plunged into the water directly under the Mermaid’s bow. They surfaced spluttering but laughing as Drustina scolded the old one-eyed warrior before calling up to her crew.
“You stupid bugger; and don’t you-lot just stand there sniggering you silly buggers, throw us a rope!”
The rope duly descended and Drustina had no qualms about exercising her woman’s right to be first to climb it. She stepped nimbly over the rail and stood dripping by the tiller as she watched while Caradic struggled and grunted as he huffed and puffed his way up the rope. When he finally reached the rail he reached out for assistance and eventually Heliox reached out and yanked him inboard. He flopped off the rail and howled as he struck a thwart heavily with his foot. Drustina wagged her head and grinned just as Udris leapt across from the high prow of the longship. She grinned at him as she nodded towards Caradic.
“That’ll teach the stupid bugger to behave so impetuously. You’d better go ashore with him and find some dry clothes.”
Udris embraced his Demetae associate and they limped off into the trees while Drustina changed from her saturated jerkin and britches into a somewhat more feminine gown. She had no idea what sort of reception she might get but it was obviously going to be a friendly one and she wouldn’t need her battle apparel.
As she finished adjusting her gown and fastening her sword (she rarely went anywhere without it), a reception committee appeared out of the trees and she stepped ashore to meet them. Gisela and Heliox also invited themselves ashore but Drustina had no qualms about their reception. The reception committee quickly made them welcome and Drustina was soon gathering as much information and intelligence about Viking activities as she could. It was no secret that the Lioness counted the Vikings as her greatest enemies. Udris had spoken of her determination to recover her homelands during his last trading visit to Demetae after he had returned from the battles in Solanta.
As she expected, the Demetae couldn’t give much specific information about the Viking activities because they tended to avoid contact with the occupiers of Gwynedd and Hibernia. Occasionally a fishing boat encountered a Viking longboat but it was hardly worth the Viking’s while to steal their fish. Fish was cheap and plentiful in the rich northern seas. The Demetae’s lack of information only reinforced Drustina’s feelings that she would have to tackle the Norsemen head on and provoke confrontation. By late afternoon she had exhausted all avenues of information and she reflected ruefully that her companions were readily availing themselves of what hospitality the village had to offer. Most were drunk before nightfall. Reluctantly, Drustina located Gisela and advised her that she was returning to sleep under the bow cuddy of The Angry Mermaid.
“Why are you doing that?” Gisela asked.
“There’s too much booze flowing around here for my liking. There’s bound to be trouble by morning. If I were you girl, I’d also slip away now before any drunken morons take a fancy to you and try something stupid.”
“But they’re having fun ...”
“Now ... yes. Give it a couple of hours kid and you’ll soon see a difference. There’ll be tears, violence and then bloodshed before morning, mark my words.”
Reluctantly, Gisela followed Drustina down to the Mermaid and under Drustina’s guidance; they slipped the moorings of three of the mermaid ships and sailed them stealthily into the middle of the channel. There, she was not surprised to see Carl’s fourth mermaid ship already anchored in mid channel so she slid her three Mermaid ships alongside Carl's and made them all fast before lowering their combined anchors silently to the bottom. The soft bump of hull against hull alerted Carl from his light slumber.
“Who’s that?” He whispered.
“Your wife, lover boy. There’s too much revelry going on ashore for my liking. There’ll be arguing and possibly worse by morning, mark my words.”
“Are you sleeping with me or in your own ship?” Carl asked as he assisted the girls in securing the ships in one group.
Drustina turned to Gisela and asked.
“Are you happy to sleep along aboard here?”
“I’d have preferred company but being as you’re right alongside I should be okay.”
Drustina smiled softly and gently kissed the Viking princess.
“Thanks. I’ll be right next door not twenty feet away. We’re safe here, there’s half a mile of water between us and the village. If any of those idiots want to find a bed, they can all cram together on Udris’s old longship.”
Once the four mermaid ships were securely moored and anchored, Drustina hopped nimbly across to Carl’s ship and snuggled up with him under the bow cuddy. Drustina savoured the shared warmth as she spooned into Carl’s embrace. It wasn’t long before Carl and she felt a little body inveigling itself under the same woollen skins.
“I’m cold.” Gisela explained.
Drustina tutted irritably while Carl grumbled but they allowed the girl to stay. There was a late summer chill to the air.
True to Drustina’s predictions, morning found a score of bruised and bloodied faces stumbling painfully around the quay but fortunately no serious blood had been shed. No swords or knives had been drawn apparently and that was a minor miracle in itself. Udris reckoned the score had been about even and honours were shared. He called across the ria to alert Drustina and beg them to bring the ships back. After ascertaining that order was restored, she and Carl brought the ships back and soon food was being prepared.
'What was it with Men?' Drustina silently wondered as she, Gisela and Carl ate before attending to bruises and cuts.
An hour later, a deputation arrived from the village demanding reparations for broken furniture and assorted other damages.
Drustina was not prepared to get involved in any sort of investigation so she stood back and let the village elders argue the toss with Udris and the other drunken idiots. It was noon before agreement was reached. Drustina spent the time wisely asking more questions about Viking activity and writing down notes about confirmed sightings, activities, dates and locations. By the time the flotilla was ready to sail she had already discussed plans with Carl about the way forward with their expedition and investigations.
It seemed most of the Viking activity was concentrated around Hibernia as King Forden, the Viking overlord of Bal ar y Claith, reinforced his hegemony over the lesser Irish chieftains. Very little Viking activity had been seen on the eastern side of the Celtic Sea.
Further north however in Eire and Lleyn, the Vikings still ruled with blood and iron. Their grip was too tight to take any foolhardy risks. Drustina decided to make a detour around the western coast of Hibernia. Carl looked at her thoughtfully.
“Do you know those waters Dru?”
She wagged her head and shrugged.
“No. But I do know you can sail right around Hibernia and enter the Celtic sea from the north, that’s the way the Vikings come.”
“But won’t we be exposed to those huge seas come the winter?”
“If my guess is right, we’ll get around the island before the worst of the autumn storms are upon us. Though truthfully Carl, I don’t know. Once thing of which I am certain is this. The Vikings will stop and search every ship coming from the south and that means we would have to fight every time we encounter another sail. My first objective is to sound out the Irish Celts and determine how much support I can look for from that quarter when push comes to shove. I’m thinking the southernmost and westernmost parts of Hibernia will be less oppressed by the Vikings and they’ll be more inclined to resist the Vikings if they can see some sort of hope. I intend to become that hope.”
“Okay Dru. I can’t think of a better strategy so Southern Hibernia it is then. When do we sail?”
“Tomorrow morning. It’ll give these stupid idiots time to sober up and possibly repair some of the diplomatic damage done by the stupid oafs. I’m going ashore with Udris and the girl to meet the village elders and try to smooth some ruffled feathers.”
Carl nodded and set to getting the flotilla ready by purchasing and checking victuals. There were still a few hung-over heads but they got no sympathy. That evening Drustina returned with an Irish woman who had been widowed by the last Viking depredation into Demetae. She claimed to have some knowledge of the waters around Corgheig and the Hog-head peninsular. For want of a more knowledgeable pilot Drustina had agreed to give the woman a passage back to her homeland and further if she found her homeland no longer to her liking. It seemed that because of the new ‘one-god’ religion nobody had been prepared to take a widow across the Celtic Sea to occupied Hibernia. She was hysterical with gratitude when Drustina offered her the pilotage deal. Her name was Brigit.
~~oo000oo~~
Below is the Character list.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Drustina and her flotilla arrive in Cork Harbour where they encounter a Viking Warship anchored off the little town of Cobh. They are compelled to destroy it or capture it before they can safely proceed up the inlet to the main city of Corgheig. (Cork)
A simple Map of the outer harbour of Cork in Ireland. Cork is further up to the west of the narrow inlet. Next map next chapter.
The Angry Mermaid 95
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 95
The following morning as agreed, Drustina’s Flotilla departed from Demetae. They sailed at first light and without giving any indication of their destination. Only Drustina and Carl knew their intended route and the Lioness had told her followers that she would tell them what their intentions were after they had cleared Vomit Point, (Pen y Cyfog.) This was to deny any Viking sympathisers in Demetae the chance to pass any advance warning of where the Lioness and her flotilla might next appear.
She had explained this the previous night to her companions and then told them that, if and when she revealed their intentions, each individual had the choice to follow her or return to Dumnonii. Finally, the flotilla drew clear of the tide rips and mill race that boiled past Pen y Cyfog then once all five ships were in safe open waters, she told them of her intentions to first make for Hibernia then take the circuitous route around the isle of Hibernia to enter the Northern Celtic Sea by way of the Straights of Kin. Her reasons were explained and she made no secret of the risks.
“If we are overtaken by any of the terrible storms that will soon be coming with the winter season, then all of you had better prepare for unimaginable seas. You have seen the great swells already but when the winter storms come, as they definitely will, you will see the anger of Nodens in all his fury. I can only say now that if you are afraid, then return to Dumnonii.”
A silence settled upon the ships as Drustina waited expectantly for the dissenters to emerge from their ranks. To her pleasant surprise and self satisfaction there were none. A broad grin spread across her face as she added.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It will be bloody cold, bloody rough and bloody dangerous.”
The silence continued so she could only presume there were no dissenters. Finally she shrugged her shoulders and set the course for Hibernia.
Once again the square rig of Udris’s longship's sail served to hamper the flotilla’s progress into the westerly winds. Several times the flotilla was forced to make more southing than would ordinarily be necessary simply to enable Udris’s ship to claw its way past some dangerous looking headland. In two instances, when wind and tide made westing all but impossible for the Longship, the four Mermaids attached long lines and all but towed the longship into the wind. After three tiring days of back-breaking seamanship, the flotilla finally made the inlet of Corgheig.
It was just before first light and now it was the Irish Widow Bridgit’s turn to show her knowledge. She stood at the helm of The Angry Mermaid and indicated the salient points as the weak early morning sun began to cast shadows on the hills inland. Eventually a dark mass appeared dimly to starboard and Brigit explained.
“That’ll be the Roche. It’s the key to Corgheig but don’t get too close.”
Drustina nodded as she watched the easy waves heap up just enough to give a hint of the reef that extended a couple of hundred metres into the channel. In rougher weather, the larger waves would have broken to give warning but in the calmer gentle waves, lent shelter by the extensive western headland; the force of the great swells was ameliorated. As the light improved, Drustina smiled ruefully, the entrance to Corgheig could be more deadly in calm conditions than in a storm. Once alerted to the secretive shelf only a few feet below the surface she studied the obvious behaviour of the out-flowing tide that gave the best indication of the deeper water. Fortunately the wind had backed as well as eased and the more southerly component gave the flotilla an easy passage with a following wind into the harbour.
Despite the easy entrance, every companion’s eyes were peeled for evidence of Viking presence. To Drustina’s dismay there was a longship anchored well inside the inlet. She saw Brigit shudder and knew immediately that the widow was reliving some ghastly trauma so she gently rested her hand on the woman’s forearm.
“Fear not girl, as far as I see there is only one ship and so far they haven’t even responded. They don’t seem to be very vigilant and I’ll wager half the crew are carousing ashore.”
“Or plundering.” Brigit riposted.
“From our point of view, that’s better still,” Heliox added. “They’ll be too preoccupied to notice somebody is stealing their ship.”
“Aye, now there’s a thought,” Drustina grinned as she attracted Udris’s attention and mimed getting dressed.
Udris nodded and within moments, all his crew were wearing something akin to Viking jerkins. They hadn’t donned their helmets because the prearranged plan of attack was surprise. They looked like another Viking ship just arrived from sea. Simultaneously, Drustina and her captains quickly rearranged nets and lines to make their mermaid ships resemble fishing boats.
The plan seemed to work as Udris’s longship quickly approached to within yards of the Viking ship before they showed any concerns. The watch-keeper looked up sleepily from his comfortable seat on the stowed sail by the mast.
The first act of the Viking ship was to shout and ask for the new arrival to identify himself. This gave Udris time to use what little Norse he had and spread uncertainty as they soon approached to within a handful of metres. The Viking watch-keeper called out nervously.
“Slow down comrade, your approach is too fast, you’ll damage our planking.”
“Udris made some vague attempt to say his tiller was jammed and eventually the Viking watch-keeper became suspicious. Most Viking ships still used a steering oar, not a tiller.”
He drew breath to ask what manner of longship used a tiller and only then realised Udris was definitely about to ram him.
His alarm call was but a second before the prow of Udris’s ship sliced straight into the mid-ship section where the Viking longship was most vulnerable. The force drove Udris’s prow into and then up over the port side of the Viking causing it to lurch and list heavily. Several of the waking Vikings were tumbled off their feet and Udris’s men were amongst them before they could properly respond. To confuse them further, the four mermaid ships emerged from the dawn light and immediately surrounded the anchored ship. The battle was over in minutes and Drustina took no prisoners, mainly because Vikings had a code of honour that required them to fight to the death. Additionally, Udris’s men had little love for the marauders who had caused so much despair for Celts throughout the west of Britannia. The last few Viking deaths were little more than summary executions.
In the aftermath, as they were determining the amount of damage to the Viking ship, Drustina had cause to reflect that it might have been expedient to take a couple of prisoners on the next occasion if they were successful. One could never tell if the occasional Viking might just give information in exchange for his life. However she could never be sure if the information was accurate or deliberately misleading. She couldn’t trust the Vikings, but she had to respect their courage and loyalty. Were they not such sworn enemies, she might even have found them staunch allies.
To everybody’s surprise, there didn’t seem to be much action ashore; no Vikings had erupted from the houses shouting and bellowing abuse, nor had any small boats full of vengeful Norsemen pulled away from the jetties. As the two longships were separated the crews assessed the damage and concluded the captured ship was in better condition than Udris’s old prize. She would also serve better as a decoy because she more accurately reflected current Viking designs. The commanders sat around wondering.
“So what’s to do Lioness?” Udris asked. “Do we add this ship to our fleet or sink it for want of sufficient crew?”
Drustina was pondering the question when Brigit spoke.
“Could we not find some Irish Celts who might be prepared to join us on your venture around Hibernia?”
“How would we be certain of their loyalties?” Carl demanded. “There will be plenty more bloodshed before this venture is over.”
“I’m sure I could find enough angry Irishmen who have suffered brutally at the Viking hands. There are plenty enough amongst my own kinfolk. King Forden is not the best of Viking rulers and we have little love for his rule in these parts.”
Drustina looked about the harbour at the wooded slopes and scattered tiny settlements.
“So where do we start?”
“Well, that village of Cobh is the biggest hereabouts. The city of Corgheig might also be a good source. It’s a few miles up that narrow inlet.”
As she pointed towards a narrow channel, Drustina had reservations. The narrows could serve as a deadly trap for any unwary ship and Drustina had insufficient men to sweep the shores and be certain of a safe uninterrupted passage to Corgheig. She glanced at Carl and Udris and Althred.
“What d’you think?”
Althred opined.
“Best we check out the mood amongst the shore-side villages first, here in the outer harbour. We still don’t know how many marauders remain ashore. It’s the safest option and we can’t be trapped that way. It’ll be best if you Celts do that bit, the local Irish Celts will trust you more than any of us Saxons.”
Althred’s logic seemed impeccable and a general consensus murmured around the flotilla. A plan was hatched and by noon three of the four Mermaids were visiting each tiny settlement to assess the mood. Carl and Althred remained aboard the two longships and retained one mermaid for extra defence in case the remaining marauding Vikings managed to muster some sort of retaliation from the little town of Cobh. By early afternoon, Drustina and Udris had garnered a mountain of valuable information and also gathered a host of fervent volunteers who could show they had suffered grievously at the hands of the hands of the occupying Vikings. When Drustina could point towards the captured ship and her own flotilla these suffering victims could at long last see a way forward to right the wrongs they had endured. Here was somebody who knew how to defeat the Vikings and did so. Her actions already spoke louder than her words.
By the time she had regrouped in the centre of the harbour Drustina and her captains had the makings of a plan. The presence of some local Irish allies now gave them local knowledge enough to search the shores for ambushes from Cobh up to Corgheig. Cautiously they formed a plan for two mermaids to set off up the narrow channel to the City while a score of men on either side checked that there were no Viking ambushes lying in wait along the shores. The plan was for Drustina and Althred to each take a mermaid through the narrows while Carl and Udris patrolled the shores with the assistance of the new-found Irish volunteers. The old Dumnonii longship commanded by Heliox was to follow with a company to intervene ashore if Carl or Udris met with Viking opposition. The other newer prize was to remain at anchor with the other two mermaids and pretend to be a Viking guard ship if any other Viking ships arrived. Gisela was left to act as a Viking, (which she was,) to talk to any newly arrived Viking ships and maintain the pretence for as long as possible in order to surprise the visitor when it approached close enough.
Drustina knew she was taking plenty of risks not least being the uncertainty of Gisela’s loyalty but in battle, leaders always had to take risks.
In the late afternoon the three ships set off up the channel to Corgheig.
As they entered the narrows at the narrowest point, Drustina encountered exactly what she had expected. Having been forced to react quickly and having lost a quarter of their force, the marauders had been forced to adopt a quick, desperate and therefore predictable plan. The first arrows erupted from the trees on the north-eastern shore as The Angry Mermaid entered the narrowest part.
‘By the Gods!’ Thought Drustina, ‘they have not even had time or foresight to use fire arrows. That will make things easier.’
With shields raised to form two turtles the Angry Mermaid entered the channel with Althred’s ship and paused to return fire to distract the Vikings hiding in the trees. Further downstream around a bend the old Dumnonii longship landed Carl with two score of men who rapidly stalked through the trees to flank the pre-occupied ambushers. Meanwhile the old longship joined Drustina and Althred to add firepower from the narrow channel. From the southern shore Udris could only fume and watch because there was still no certainty that there were no Vikings on the opposite shore.
The battle raged mainly with arrows amongst the trees and along the shore until eventually the sheer weight of numbers and arrows decimated the poorly prepared Vikings. When Carl waved from a rock on the shore, Drustina deemed it safe to land ashore while Althred crossed to the other side to discuss the situation on Udris’s south-western shore.
This time Carl had captured two prisoners and kept them separated so that interrogations would expose any obvious lies. They would not be able to collude while being held captive. Drustina and Carl quickly started to question them for the evening shadows were drawing in.
By asking predetermined questions born of long shared experience, the two veterans Drustina and Carl were able to reasonably asses what was truth and what was lie.
Back aboard the ships, the four commanders talked at length about the next day. As darkness overtook them they took two ships above the narrows and anchored out of bowshot from the shore. Drustina returned back to the other ships to share intelligence and possibly sneak ashore into Cobh and check on any remaining Viking numbers. She was pleased to learn that no other ships had arrived and when she asked for two volunteers to accompany her into the darkened town she was surprised and pleased when Gisela and Brigit stepped up.
“I speak Irish and Gisela speaks Norse, we are the obvious choices. Besides, my value as a pilot is not necessary now; there are plenty of Corgheig men who can guide you past the Hogshead and all the way to O’Neill country.”
“Who are the O Neill’s?” Drustina asked.
“They used to be the most powerful clan in all of Hibernia but the Vikings have trimmed their wings considerably. They were forced to pay homage to Forden the Norse King in Bail ar y Claidd and they have resented it ever since. You should find a good ally in the O Neill’s.”
“Well, I’ll cross that river when I come to it. For now, let’s see what we can find out in the town.”
They took a small rowing boat that one of the villagers had supplied and landed ashore half a mile upstream to the west of the town. Drustina naturally led with sword in hand as they crept carefully along the unlit road. Once they had to slip off the road as an innocent farmer was returning late from the market with a couple of cattle in tow Fortunately he did not have a dog with him and the three women simply had to stand back quietly in the shadows as he plodded past wending his way home.
“It seems to be quite peaceful.” Gisela whispered.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” Brigit replied. “He was just going about his everyday business. The trouble starts when the marauders come demanding food or worse, ‘taxes’. That’s when it gets dangerous. Why should an honest man give up his hard earned wealth and property when some thieving thug comes waving a sword?”
Brigit’s logic seemed unassailable to the young inexperience Gisela but Drustina simply smiled un-noticed in the dark while she kept her counsel. As a leader who had sat on that uncomfortable ‘throne’ of leadership and responsibility, Drustina knew there were times when taxes, fair legitimate taxes, were inescapable if a community was to benefit from it’s common-wealth. Roads and sewers were two particular examples Drustina could bring readily to mind but she had encountered others like schools and hospitals; built by kings but manned by good-willed volunteers and charitable people.
They soon came to the edge of the town marked by the first illuminating light shining through the crack in the doorway in a modest little hovel. In the pitch blackness of the cloudy night the tiny sliver of light seemed to glare like a beacon until compared with the brighter candle-lights that burned further into the centre of the town. There, there were even the occasional torches burning in iron frames above the junctions of the busier streets. Despite these welcoming lights however, the darkness served well to hide any certain identity and the three women passed easily along the busier main street as anonymous women going home from the market.
That same market square was now silent save for the several inns and the larger town hall where several men were gathered.
Drustina noted that they were not preparing the night watch so she wondered what they were about. She turned to her companions and murmured.
“Stay by me, let us learn what they talk of.”
They paused as group and Drustina was not surprised to hear them talking Norse. She understood enough to learn they were discussing the day’s events from the capture of their ship to the disappearance of the sortie they had sent out to ambush their original attackers. The remaining small group were obviously afraid and it showed in the loud voices they used to debate their next move. They were also concerned that their number had been reduced to a dozen and they were anxious for the next Viking trade ship to arrive the next week.
Then one of the men noticed the women loitering.
“What do you bitches want?!”
Brigit replied in the local Celtic Dialect for Corgheig.
“We seek any old or rotten vegetable from the market stalls. Our children go hungry.”
“Bugger off you witches. The rotten food is on the midden pile where the dogs and crows pick over it. Go and search there. Leave us to talk about men’s affairs.”
Having established how many Vikings now occupied the town and when reinforcements were likely to arrive; Drustina was satisfied with her night’s work. They decided to return to the skiff they had hidden and plan their next move.
~~oo000oo~~
Below is the Character list.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
On her way to contact the Celtic peoples of Corgheig in Munster, Drustina encounters a graphic example of monotheist misogyny disenfranchising women. Marag's castle is on the little island at the south western end of Lough Mahon.
The Angry Mermaid 96
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 96.
Back aboard the anchored longships several of the Local villagers had prepared maps of the whole of Cork Harbour from the Sea at Pen Cionn tSá¡ile (Kinsale Head) all the way up to Corgheig and including the Belvelly Channel which separated the great Island and Cobh from the mainland. This circumstance gave Drustina considerable room for thought as she learned that the channel was tidal and navigable at high water. Shallow waters and tidal variations made for useful traps for ships being navigated by the unwary. She shelved the information away in her memory and after a quick snack she invited the other girls Brigit and Gisela to join her in the bow cuddy where they were safe from any uninvited attentions of any newcomers who had not experienced the anger of Drustina’s sword or dagger.
Several pairs of Irish eyes followed the trio as they made themselves comfortable inside the bow cuddy but Carl and Althred quietly enlightened the hopeful bucks.
“Firstly the blond lioness is my wife and you’d have to get past me to get to her. Secondly, I would warn you now; she’s deadlier than a viper and would certainly kill any idiot who presumes to force themselves upon her or the other two. My advice boys, is don’t ... don’t even think it or you’ll be dead before you realise it.”
One of the Irish villagers then asked Carl; “What’s a viper?”
For a moment Carl was baffled at the man’s ignorance until Brigit explained from inside the cuddy.
“Carl, you may not know it but there are no snakes in Ireland. Those boys don’t know what a viper is ... they’ve never seen a snake or heard of one except in old legends.”
After recovering from this startling revelation, Carl simply replied.
“A viper moves faster than your hand when it strikes at its enemies. Drustina’s dagger is equally as fast; you won’t see it until it’s stuck in your belly or chest if you try to have your way. Just be warned. She’s not called The Lioness for nothing.”
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the Irish ranks but Carl left it there. ‘If the idiots were too stupid to take a warning they’d find out the hard way.’ And they did!
Carl was not a watch-keeper that night and he slept just as most others did; enough to fail to notice the fool who decided to sneak past his sleeping bulk.
In the small hours of the morning there was a howl of agony from the flap that covered the cuddy entrance. Carl lurched to his feet and stumbled to where the howling was growing in volume. He finally came upon a young Irish villager still on his knees where he had crawled along the keel towards the bow. Once past Carl, he had silently peeled the flap back and ever so gently felt inside until his hand landed on a warm body covered in a thick blanket. Pleased with his first contact he had carefully established the position of the sleeper then he had reached further to cover the mouth that belonged to the body. His efforts were in vain. He had unfortunately touched the shoulder of the Lioness and instead of finding a petrified girl too scared to shriek he had encountered the worst possible nemesis for any potential rapist.
Once woken by the inquisitive fingers, the owner of the warm body had studiously feigned sleep as she slowly extracted her dagger from the lateral sheath beneath her breasts. Then, as the impudent hand delicately traced its way across her ear and towards her mouth, Drustina had casually grasped the wrist then jammed it against down against the keelson before pinning the hand with her dagger. The force and speed of her dagger strike had totally phased the interloper and he had started howling the instant he realised he could not free his hand. As he reached out to yank the dagger free from his hand and the heavy timber keelson, a second dagger had appeared in Drustina’s hand and in an instant the potential rapist’s other hand was similarly pierced and pinned. By the time Carl and some other of the men had arrived on the scene, the man was truly stuck fast like some insect pinned to a display board. Drustina was now sat up and calming Brigit while Gisela was simply gasping with disbelief.
The man was un-pinned then bandaged by the very woman he had foolishly attempted to ravish and he looked a woeful specimen when he was finally secured at the foot of the mast while order was restored. Carl decided to take station outside the cuddy just to deter any further would-be night-time paramours. The rest of the night was peaceful.
At dawn Drustina slid arse first out of the cuddy and backed into Carl’s somnolent bulk. He grunted appreciatively until she farted deliberately to deter any uncalled for gropes.
“You dirty bitch,” he grumbled.
“Just keep your mind on the task ahead. We’re going to have to meet with the denizens of Corgheig today and we’ve no idea what sort
of reception we’ll get.”
“You don’t have to remind me. Food will be up shortly. I refuse to do the diplomatic stuff without a full stomach. Are those to other lazy cows awake?”
“A chorus of ‘We are!’ came from the cuddy.
Carl growled.
“Well hurry up and eat, it’s an early one this morning. There’s water for washing down aft. I know what you women are like.”
Drustina grinned as she was already stepping aft then two petulant faces emerged and realised the whole ship’s crew was abroad. Self-consciously they picked their way aft and availed themselves of what little modesty the crude lavatorial arrangement provided. At Drustina’s insistence they washed their hands before they were allowed to pick hot food from the pot that Edburg Supplied. As the girls ate, Carl finished his ablutions and joined them to discuss the plan for meeting with the people of Corgheig.
“D’you think they’ll be pleased to see us?” Carl wondered.
“Not when they learn we’re not staying. They’ll have to answer to the Vikings after we’ve gone.”
“Suppose we leave some sort of Calling card.”
“Like what? Write them a letter?” Drustina mocked.
“I dunno, but it seems a bit unfair to leave them to their fate for something they haven’t done.”
“Well we’ll sort that our after we’ve met them. I’m betting that somebody has got the message to the city that something is afoot and Brithonic Celts have arrived.”
Udris grinned as he stepped across from the other longship.
“Yeah, that news alone will be causing some sort of storm amongst the city dwellers. I’m betting the majority of them will be fat, greedy merchants and traders and they’ll be more concerned for their own profits than everybody’s freedom.”
“We’ll see,” Drustina shrugged, “I’m not going to judge until we get there. We’d best be weighing anchor and making our way with just the Mermaids. We can leave both Viking longships as decoy guard ships. Though I suggest they be ready to slip their anchors and make a break if things prove too dangerous and a Viking flotilla arrives.”
“Where would they go if it did?” Carl wondered.
“I dunno, we’ll have our work cut out up in Cork if things turn nasty. Anyway, Althred is going to pretend to be fishing off the Roche point and if he see’s any ship resembling a Viking, he’ll hoist a red sail so that the two longships have plenty of time to weigh anchor. How they handle any visitor is up to Althred, we’ve got other fish to fry. Come-on, the sooner we move the sooner we find out.”
Within ten minutes three of the four Mermaids were making their way up the inlet whilst the fourth set course southwards to make a pretence of fishing in the narrows of the Roche.
Once Drustina, Udris and Carl were through the narrows they made swift westing towards a settlement that boasted a stone castle no less. The battlements could be seen from the northern exit of the narrows. As they approached they could make out more detail and Udris suggested they tie up at the pier by the gate to the castle. After consulting with the local volunteers they learned that a Celtic queen held the castle though several local chieftains were disputing her claim. When Drustina asked for more information concerning the disputes, the volunteers proved less willing to explain and she was left mildly bemused. Having learned that there now seemed to be some underlying discontent in the region, Drustina became doubly cautious but slightly more optimistic. If there was strife amongst the local tribes, it could sometimes be exploited to her own end.
Carl stood off a goodly distance out of bowshot, while Udris accompanied Drustina to within a hundred metres. Finally, Drustina and her most trusted companions kept their shields close to hand in case they needed to form a rapid turtle then they landed The Angry Mermaid against the stone jetty. There they waited for long minutes wondering if there would be any response from the castle but in this they were disappointed. Finally Drustina shouted as loud as she could.
“Helloo-oo the Castle. Are we to receive a welcome or not?”
The silence continued for another tense minute then finally a woman’s head appeared between two of the castellations above the gate.
“Who are you?”
“I am Drustina, the Lioness of Carthage child of Caderyn who is child of Erin of Lleyn!”
“Lleyn you say. That is Viking land, yet you speak Brithonic.”
“I am Brithonic; a Celt just like you.”
“How did you get here? Only Vikings travel freely in these waters.”
“Not any more. I and my companions travel where we will, and when we will.”
“What of the guard ship at Cobh? How did you bypass her?”
“We didn’t; we captured her.”
A pregnant silence settled as the woman on the battlements digested the information. Drustina thought she could see her consulting with another who was hidden behind the castellation. Eventually the woman called again.
“If you are the Lioness of Carthage, it is rumoured that you are really a man.”
Drustina snorted while Gisela struggled to contain a squawk of laughter. Drustina replied.
“Why, would that be a problem? Is that a hindrance to our meeting ... and talking?”
“Men are not welcome here!”
“Why? Is it a convent or a castle?”
After another pause the woman spoke again.
“Come alone to the gate. I will speak through the grill!”
Gisela wagged her head and Heliox added his opinion.
“It could be a trap Lioness.”
“My thoughts entirely,” Drustina agreed, “but we’ll get nowhere shouting across a jetty and a castle wall. Lend me your long shield Heliox, the one with the fancy insignia. Don't say you haven't got one because I saw you take it from the spoils of the guard ship.”
“Damn!” Heliox cursed with a grin. “And I thought nobody noticed.”
“Don’t worry; you’ll get it back if I get back ... alive.”
“They might mistake you for a Viking.”
“Not if I place my own Celtic dragon shield over it like this.”
“You won’t be able to swing your sword.”
“I don’t intend using my sword; except as a last resort.”
Heliox shrugged and passed the long shield up to her after she had stepped onto the jetty. Anybody watching from the battlements could see that she had placed her own Celtic fighting shield over the long tapered Viking ‘wall-shield’ and she turned to face the castle. The voice from the castle responded accordingly.
“Do you not trust us?”
“No!” Drustina replied bluntly. “These are dangerous times and we have just killed a score of Vikings. Who knows what lies behind your castle walls?”
“Will you come to the gate?”
Drustina scanned the battlements and whispered to Heliox.
“Cover me and if you see the slightest movement at any of the parapet or castellations, warn me. If you think somebody is lining me up, don’t hesitate to unleash your arrows.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that Lioness.”
Drustina grinned but her smile did not reflect her uncertainty. Hers eyes scanned constantly as she paced gingerly towards the gate that more resembled a heavy spiked door. When she reached it a small panel was opened and the woman from the battlements faced her.
“Can you prove you are a man?”
“Why should I have to?” Drustina demanded.
“It is said the Lioness looks like a woman but is really a man.”
“It is also known that the Lioness is a woman as well as a man.”
“You talk rubbish! That cannot be!”
“Who said?”
“There can only be men and women!”
“I ask again; who told you that?”
“The priests; they say that the new god is the creator of all things and he created men and women separately. It is not possible for a man to occupy a woman’s body, nor a woman a man’s.”
“Oh,” Drustina replied ironically, “if that is so then it must be true, unless your priest is lying.”
“They do not lie; they are servants of the new God.”
“Then we have no more to discuss. It seems I am wasting my time here. I shall proceed further up the inlet to the city.”
“Wait! If you go there, they might attack you.”
“Why?” Drustina asked almost as an afterthought.
“You are bearing arms and you are a woman. Women are not allowed to bear arms in the new religion.”
Drustina stopped and turned again.
“And how are they to protect themselves?”
“Their men protect them.”
“It is often the men who attack them, rape them and kill them. You amaze me woman!”
“That is because the women provoke them and tempt them. The women are the temptresses who brought calamity in the Garden. The serpent corrupted them and they lead men astray!”
Drustina had heard enough drivel. She was not prepared to listen to anymore. She knew what to expect next. The priests it seemed had already spread their poison and the process of demeaning women was already well under way. Then she remembered that one of the volunteers had said the owner of the castle was a Celtic Queen. She turned and asked the woman behind the grill.
“Who are you anyway?”
“I am Marag, high Queen of Munster!”
Drustina stopped short; her knowledge of the Celtic Irish tribes told her that the king or queen of Munster was a sovereign in their own right and all the southern clans’ owed allegiance. The woman behind the Grill would surely have an army garrisoning her castle and yet Drustina had not seen a single man at arms. She returned to the grill in the heavy wooden gate.
“If you are queen of Munster, where are your soldiers?”
The woman’s lips pursed tightly and white spots of anger appeared on her cheeks.
“Go away woman, you don’t know what you’re up against here!”
For a moment Drustina was prepared to take umbrage but she realised she had other fish to fry and she could not stand all day outside a castle talking or arguing with somebody who seemed unprepared to explain the situation or even offer hospitality. The heavy gates remained firmly closed. Drustina studied the gates but it took her several seconds before the realisation struck her like a thunderbolt. The gates were also barred on the outside!
‘By the gods! I’m a dumb bitch! The woman is some sort of prisoner ... in her own castle!’
At first Drustina could not believe her own eyes but she tested the sturdy timber gates and the bars that secured them. Still doubting her senses she demanded of the queen behind the gates.
“Dammit woman, will you not offer any hospitality. However do you open these gates? If you do not want me here, I’ll go.”
“Go then Damn you! Do not meddle where you cannot mend.”
Drustina stared disbelievingly at the castle as she slowly realised it was not a fortified residence; it had become some sort of prison. Then the next thought struck her.
‘Where were the prison guards?’
She cast about angrily but saw nothing that suggested supervision or containment. Baffled by what she had discovered, she offered to break the bars that secured the gates from the outside.
“D’you want me to open these bloody gates?” She called.
“It would do me no good; only put me in greater danger!”
Drustina snorted as she signalled to Udris and Carl who were still standing off out of bowshot. She shouted her message so that the occupants of the castle could hear her.
“Heliox, take the Mermaid and collect three pagan men each from Udris and Carl’s ships. We’ll smash this gate and I’ll know the truth!”
Having shouted this for all within earshot to hear, Drustina expected some sort of response from within the castle. The lack of any response simultaneously unnerved Drustina and angered her. She waggled her sword angrily to make a signal that Carl and Udris instantly recognised as urgent. Within minutes six strong men were battering away at the stout wooden bars with axes and a heavy war hammer. Soon the gate was splintering but still there was no response from behind the gate. Drustina stopped the men momentarily and paused as puzzlement took root. Once more she scoured the approaches to the castle and the immediate waters but there was no sign of either a response or any intended resistance. She peered cautiously through the splintered woodwork fully expecting a sword blade to come lunging at her but still nothing. Satisfied that there seemed to be little or no obvious resistance she motioned the men to continue. Soon the door was no more and they dragged the splintered wreckage clear of the archway.
“Any takers gentlemen?”
Cautiously they entered the empty archway and found themselves in the abandoned courtyard that, in any properly defended castle, would have been seething with defenders. Across the yard they saw the only obvious doorway and stairs into a hall and after looking up at the battlement parapet they satisfied themselves it was the only way forward. Fearful still of a trap they continued cautiously until two of the men and Drustina found themselves at the top of the stairs inside the hall. Two others followed them and stepped out onto the battlements parapet while two remained guarding the hall stairs and door. Drustina and her two waited while the pair circuited the parapet and confirmed there were no soldiers lying in wait. The conclusion was that Queen Marag was somewhere inside the hall. With the two searchers now joined with the trio Drustina and four men entered the hall. Several doors led off and it was obvious that each would need to be searched. The men stepped forward as if to batter the doors down but Drustina stayed them with her hand.
“Easy now gentlemen. So far there has been no indication of violence or aggression. Let’s try the courteous approach first.”
So saying, she stepped forward and tapped softly on the nearest door. There was no response so she moved to the next and tapped again. Queen Marag’s voice answered.
“You are not allowed here. The council requires me to be chaste!”
Drustina paused and shared a smile with her men before replying.
“And who is going to un-chaste you?”
“You have men with you!”
“Of course I have men with me woman! You don’t expect me to attack a castle all by my bloody self do you?”
“You did not have to attack my castle!”
“I needed to find out what was afoot! You showed no co-operation and it was obvious you had something to hide. I need to know what that something is.”
“Why?”
“If I’m going to visit the city of Corgheig, I need to know as much as I can. Why are you alone and unprotected in your own castle?”
“You had best take that up with the council.”
“What council?”
“The council of bishops.”
“If you are Marag, what have these bishops to do with your imprisonment, are you not the sovereign queen in Munster? Where are your arms-men?”
“They are obeying the bishops and follow the one true god!”
Drustina snorted and her men laughed. When silence returned, she tapped again on the door to reinforce her peaceful intent.
“If you allow me to meet with you, I can promise you, you will come to no harm.”
“But my reputation will be besmirched.”
“Who is there to make that charge?”
“The bishops. I must be chaste when I am to be married.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Drustina dropped her calm demeanour and almost screeched.
“What d’you bloody mean, you don’t know. You are the queen and you choose whomsoever you wish, provided he is agreeable.”
“No. It is different now. The man chooses his bride and the bishops wed the couple. My dowry is my kingdom.”
“Dowry? What’s a bloody dowry?”
“My bride price.”
“Bride price. By the god’s woman you are not some sort of cow in a market, you are a queen and a free woman in your own right. Besides, your kingdom is yours, you are the sovereign!”
“It used to be that way, but the new order ordains that a woman is wedded to her husband and must obey him.”
Drustina turned to her companions and cursed.
“You see what this new order brings. Oppression and cruelty. What free woman can accept that offence to her dignity?”
She turned to the closed door again and sighed.
“If that is the new order then I will likely change much and offend many when I visit this city. Be assured woman, this woman, the Lioness of Carthage no less, pays homage to no man. Methinks the crimes you have suffered need addressing.”
“What can you do?”
“Well I can sort out these bishops for a start. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.”
The door opened a fraction until a heavy chain stopped it and a pair of tearful eyes peered around the door.
“Can you? Can you really defeat these bishops?”
Drustina stepped sideways so that the queen could see the powerful men at her back.
“I have a whole army of men like these at my back. Together we have just defeated your Viking oppressors. D’you think a few bishops can stop us?”
“They are powerful men and they have the one true god on their side.”
“And I have got plenty of swords on my side. We’ll soon see who gains mastery. Get your travelling clothes woman, there’s work to be done if you are to regain your station. Have you a lady in waiting to help you?”
Marag wagged her head so Drustina despatched two of the men to call in the other two ships and to tell Gisela to join her. This done she spied a chair at the end of the hall and chose to sit on it while waiting. Marag howled an objection.
“That’s my throne! How dare you, a commoner, bespoil it!”
Drustina snorted and grinned.
“Commoner indeed. You’ll learn lady, you’ll learn.
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina Briefly kidnaps the Bishop Brendon and his two theological supporters but she avoids using actual force or sword to cenvey her message that Queen Marag should be reinstated to her throne.
The Angry Mermaid 97
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 97.
Because Drustina failed to stand as Queen Marag stepped towards her, the Celtic Queen rushed the last few steps and raised her arm in anger. Even before Carl, Udris or Gisela had realised she was threatening Drustina, the Lioness had anticipated some sort of attack and her sword appeared in her hand pointing straight at Marag’s breasts. The furious queen just managed to stop herself from running onto the blade. She screeched with fearful anger as she just managed to throw herself to the side and avoid impaling herself.
“Damn you! You presumptuous bitch, you have no right to sit there!”
With her sword slowly turning in her hand to reflect the sunlight and dazzle the queen, Drustina replied softly.
“I’ll sit where I damned well like and with whoever I like.”
Marag hesitated as she struggled to counter Drustina’s words.
“You have no right; that is a royal throne!”
“Then why weren’t you sitting on it when we entered this hall?”
“You have no right to ask that?”
Drustina shrugged.
“Why not?”
“You have no authority here!”
“Oh. Who does?”
Marag hesitated then spoke slowly.
“The ... the Bishops.”
“I see no bishops, in fact I saw nobody. Is this castle empty but for you?”
Marag stared transfixed at the sword as she admitted with a nervous swallow.
“Ulp! Yesss.”
“So why haven’t you tried to escape. Surely you could have used a rope or something and gone over the walls.”
“And where would I go? My face is known throughout the kingdom and there is a price if I try to escape.”
“A price! What crime have you committed?”
“None save that of being a woman and refusing to bow to the bishops’ power.”
“But you are the queen. This much I know. They have no authority over you. You are their sovereign. What did your soldiers do to protect you?”
“They fear the bishops’ god. They fear eternal damnation in the fires of hell.”
“But they are sworn to protect you, with their lives if they have to!”
“They are more afeared for their souls and the after-life. Eternal damnation in the fires of hell!” Marag repeated the sentence as though to emphasis the horror of such a fate.
Drustina snorted her disgust as Carl and Udris wagged their heads in disbelief. Gisela just stood gaping in puzzlement. The Lioness decided it was time to move forward and she saw a useful angle. If she could reinstate this disenfranchised sovereign on her throne she could win a good ally to her cause. Drustina knew from way back in her childhood that Munster was one of the richest and largest kingdoms in all Hibernia. It behoved the Lioness to move quickly and discover just how much power the bishops had accrued unto themselves and more importantly, how they had managed to do it.
She stood up and flipped her sword around to slip it easily into its scabbard with a well practised precision that once again told Marag that the Lioness was a swords-woman of some notable skill. The action also told Marag that this woman, this ‘Lioness’ was not somebody to be crossed or contradicted, leastways not with a sword.
‘If not a sword’ thought Marag; ‘then words perhaps’. Marag wondered hopefully.
‘Perhaps this warrior queen might yet listen to argument and reason. Perhaps she might yet persuade the Lioness woman that the bishops were very powerful and not to be messed with for they had supernatural powers.’
The Irish queen had yet to learn what powers the lioness possessed but she was right about one thing, Drustina always listened to reason. To move the issue forward, Drustina asked Queen Marag another question.
“Would you be prepared to accompany me to Corgheig and confront these bishops?”
“I have tried that, my men would not support me, they fear the bishops’ god.”
“Be assured lady. My men will support me. I have that certainty.”
“How can you know that? How can you possibly know what goes through the minds of your retainers? I thought I could trust my men.”
“Firstly dear lady, my men are not retainers, they are companions and they fight with me, beside me and behind me. We have been through many battles together and I know I can trust my men.”
“And what of the Viking girl, how can you possibly trust that brat?”
Gisela seethed at the term ‘brat’ but Drustina gently restrained her as she replied.
“Patience princess I’ll enlighten her presently and she will apologise for that insult... not now, not at the point of a sword, but later, willingly, voluntarily when she learns who her true friends are.”
Gisela glared at Marag and spat.
“She’d better or she’ll learn I can swing a sword as well. Not as well as you Lioness but well enough to split her royal belly.”
Marag squinted thoughtfully at the Viking girl and noted she spoke Brithonic though with the strange accent.
“If you have no Celtic blood why do you work with your sworn enemies?”
“I have my reasons! Yes; I am Viking, and royal Viking at that! Harald Cold-blood is my father! But I have my reasons for honouring this woman, this Lioness. Her title is well earned Irish Queen and you had best remember that... as I do!”
Drustina gently squeezed Gisela’s shoulder as both Carl and Udris chuckled softly.
“Thank you for that laurel Gisela but I can speak for myself if or when I have to. Now Queen Marag, your answer please. Would you be prepared to return to these bishops and argue your case again? This time with proper swordsmen and women at your back? Your case will be argued in words and law, not deception and cowardice but, the law will be enforced as needs be... and by me if necessary.”
“If law is to stand, my case is won. Can you enforce the law?”
“Yes. Of that you can be certain. I believe the law must stand as it did, or at least until an All-thing is called and the law mooted.”
“Those are Saxon words. Brethon law used to run here.” Marag lamented.
“In my land, Brithonic law was hammered out much the same as Saxon law. Wise elders thrashed out the law and scribes noted them down. However the law is made, it must be made with consent and agreement. Freely by both men and women. That was always the Celtic way.”
“It is not the way of these bishops. They bring customs as the Romans did and women are treated like so many cattle.”
Drustina nodded slowly. She knew all about Romans. The time had come to move on ... push had come to shove. She asked Marag again.
“Are you prepared to re-open your arguments with the bishops?”
“If you keep your promise to support me, how can I refuse?”
“Do you have a sword and have you any idea how to use it?”
Marag paused thoughtfully.
“I was shown some rudimentary strokes as a young woman but I was never required to use one in anger. My father’s law held the peace. I was only on the throne for a year before the bishops moved against me. I was not properly prepared.”
“So you appeared weak.”
Marag nodded disconsolately. “Yes.”
“And the Vikings were threatening.”
“Yes.”
“And the bishops blamed you for offending the one god simply by being a woman on the throne; I’ll wager they claimed the Vikings were a scourge sent by their one god.”
“Yes! How did you know that?”
“I didn’t have to,” Drustina replied, “I know how their twisted reasoning is bent to their advantage. They have ten rules and they break every one of them, even the fifth rule.”
Marag looked up startled by Drustina’s knowledge.
“You know of their commandments then? Their holy book?”
“Of course I do. ‘Know thine enemy’, and I count such bishops amongst my enemies. Come woman, if we are to resolve your injustices, we’d best be moving.”
Marag needed no more encouragement, she returned to her chamber and emerged buckling a very decorative but impractical sword around her slender waist. It lay awkwardly over Marag’s curvaceous hips and Drustina exchanged a grin with Gisela.
“Now you see girl why I use my shoulder scabbard. Look how her sword bounces with each swaying step. I see your hips are growing like that and that is why I taught you to use a shoulder scabbard. Queen Marag’s sword is little more than a fancy jewel but it will serve its purpose as a badge of office when we meet with these covetous bishops.”
Gisela grinned back and made a good fist of whipping her own sword out of its scabbard and brandishing a couple of capable strokes to demonstrate her newly learned skill. Her return was not as accomplished as Drustina’s but it served enough to enlighten Marag that the women in Drustina’s force were all expected to have skill with weapons. Having satisfied her own self esteem, Gisela approached Queen Marag and explained.
“I am here to serve as your lady in waiting and I will do that because the Lioness has asked me. I do it out of respect for my leader not out of servility to you. I am of royal blood in my own right!”
Drustina stepped in to stop further argument or delay.
“Right ladies, the tide does not wait for man or woman so we have to leave; NOW!”
The bickering stopped at Drustina’s shout and the two women did as required. There was no brooking the authority in Drustina’s order.
Drustina smiled and nodded to Carl who led the band back to the ships. Just as the sun passed its zenith Drustina’s flotilla landed against the stone jetty that served the city of Corgheig. Everybody noticed that the trading ships had been moored further up the quay; it was obvious Drustina’s arrival was anticipated. Drustina smiled with some satisfaction, if things went wrong, the bishops had played right into her hands by moving the Irish ships upstream to leave the main jetty clear. They had also revealed that they had some sort of plan in place otherwise they would not have moved all their ships up the quay to a place of relative safety.
As the moorings were secured, three men in red and white cloaks and mitred hats emerged from an unfinished church that was being erected on a prominent hill immediately behind the quay. They betrayed their intent by immediately approaching Carl on the obvious assumption that the largest man with the biggest sword was the obvious leader. The middle bishop spoke up.
“Welcome Saxon may the love of God go with you. What is your business here?”
Carl spoke softly as he nodded towards Drustina.
“You’d best speak to The Lioness gentlemen. She is the commander here.”
The three bishops turned as one with contemptuous sneers that quickly faded when they met a level pair of unflinching, cold grey eyes. The woman behind those eyes obviously had no intention of showing modesty or submission.
“Who are you?” Demanded the middle bishop who obviously appeared to be the spokesman.
“Who are you?” Asked Drustina.
“You do not question a man of the cloth woman, tell me your name.”
Drustina answered softly but the unflinching stare continued.
“My name is Drustina.”
“Drustina who?”
“I have given you my name, give me yours.”
“We work in the name of almighty God. “
“I gave you my name, now give me yours.”
While Drustina’s gaze never flinched or strayed, Carl, Udris and Heliox were casually casting about and they soon spotted several armed men seemingly watching casually. To a trained eye however they were readily betraying their function. They were glancing to their right and left obviously conveying some unspoken messages to more men hidden from site. Casually, Carl and Udris moved to positions that put the bishops in easy sword reach whilst blocking any potential arrow flight from the hidden ambush. Drustina noted the move and casually stepped to the side to also put the bishops between her and the same marksmen. Once the three were carefully repositioned, Heliox casually appeared to check a mooring rope as he cleverly positioned himself beside an upturned rowing boat thus rendering himself invisible to the observers. Drustina casually lowered her eyes as she asked for a third time.
“Your name Bishop; or I’ll have to force it from you.”
“How so woman. Do you think you have the strength?”
“Yes.” She replied as the gaze returned as hard as ever. “I do.”
The bishop gave a loud snort of contempt and stepped forward as if to seize the disrespectful wench before him. Drustina stepped back and the man readily presumed she was backing away in fear. Naturally he lunged forward to grab her and beat her but to his amazement a sword appeared in her hand and she swiped him flat-bladed across the shin as the blade then tripped his following leg and he tripped into the Angry Mermaid. He cursed loudly to his henchmen to attack but Gisela had already tossed Drustina’s bow and quiver of arrows up to the Lioness who immediately knelt behind the same upturned rowing boat. By now the other two bishops had recovered from their shock at their leader’s affront and they were drawing their swords in anger.
This fatal mistake gave Udris and Carl legitimate cause to strike like lightening as the two bishops stepped forward to punish the disrespectful bitch who had so humiliated their leader. Before they had even stepped either side of the upturned boat, they felt sword points jammed painfully into their backs and they immediately desisted. By this time Both Heliox and Drustina had bows drawn and pointing at the gathering crowd. On the three ships, many more bows were also drawn and covering various other avenues of approach or attack. On the quay it was a stand-off.
From her position behind her rowing boat Drustina ordered the other two bishops to join their leader in The Angry Mermaid. They readily obliged as the sword points encouraged them and soon all three bishops were gathered at the foot of the mainmast. Drustina joined them and once it was obvious the three bishops were captive, Carl, Udris and Heliox joined their respective ships. Within minutes all three ships were proceeding back down stream whilst the bishops’ arms-men were left seething with frustration on the quay. The ploy of mooring their own ships further up the quay served to compound their problems as they dashed upstream only to find their pursuit hampered by the falling tide. Several ships managed to get away before the tide fell too far but to do so they were carrying few men to pass clear of the upstream shallows. Once again Drustina’s foresight had won the day.
As she reflected on her success she smiled at Marag while the bishops gave her surly glares. Soon they were through Lough Mahon, through the narrows and out into the main harbour where they met with the rest of her force. The bishops stared uncomprehendingly at the two captured Viking longships and the fourth ‘Mermaid’ class vessel seemingly fishing just inside the Roches Point. Drustina followed their gaze and nodded towards the fourth Mermaid crewed by Althred.
“That’s our lookout gentlemen. We are ever alert!”
“How did you capture the guard ship?” demanded the leading bishop. It was the first time he’d spoken since being captured.”
Drustina smirked contemptuously.
“My mother told me never to speak to strangers.”
For a moment the bishop gaped uncomprehendingly then it filtered through that he still hadn’t declared his name.
“My name is Brendon!”
“Oh; a good Irish name. So how did you come by the power to dethrone a legitimate queen in her own realm?”
“She has no right to rule, she has not the power to rule. It is writ in the ...”
“Hold it right there holy man,” Drustina stopped him. “That first statement, ‘she has no right to rule’. I am quite familiar with Celtic law and Marag is fully entitled to rule. Firstly she has no brothers because her father sired no sons and secondly she is the first born. By Celtic law, be it Brethon or Brithonic law even Saxon law for that matter. Marag is the queen and can only lose that right if she is defeated in battle or killed, that is murdered or dies naturally.”
“Not according to holy scripture. St Paul says...”
Once again Drustina stopped him dead.
“I’m not interested in what St Paul says. Your prophet was a man called Jesus. What did Jesus say about women and their rights?”
Brendon fell silent. In his holy book Jesus said very little about women’s rights. Drustina waited a full minute for Bishop Brendon to elaborate but nothing was forthcoming. Eventually she pitched in herself.
“What does he say about earthly rulers, emperors and kings and things?”
Brendon remained silent. The only thing he could remember about his Lord's words concerning earthly rulers were the words Jesus had used to address the Jewish holy men who were trying to trap him. Drustina was also considering the same words and after Brendon had remained silent again Drustina pitched in.
“Didn’t this Jesus say something to those Jewish holy men when they were trying to trap him? What was it now; oh yes! ‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s’”
“That was about money!” Brendon protested.
“Uuhhm no. In the next sentence he says ‘Render unto God, that which is God’s.’ Was that about money?”
“Partly, you are twisting things!”
“No I’m not. Did he not also say it is easier for the camel to pass through the eye of the needle than it is for a rich man to enter heaven. Seems to me that this prophet wasn’t the least bit interested in money or any other earthly things if I remember rightly.”
“He is the saviour of souls if you follow him your soul will be saved.”
“Your soul, you say?”
“Yes. Eternal damnation awaits those that deny him.”
“What about the body.”
“Jesus is not concerned about the body.”
“What? Not at all.”
“I just told you he is the saviour of souls. Follow him and you will join with the one true God in heaven.”
“So he’s not interested in material things or the body, earthly things that is.”
“Only insofar as you follow his teachings.”
“And those teachings are to follow him, follow his teachings and your soul will enter heaven.”
“Yes.”
Can a dog’s soul or a horse’s soul enter heaven?”
“Of course not, God gave us souls that we would understand and follow Jesus’ teachings.”
“Do women have souls?”
Brendon could see where Drustina was going but he was already falling into the trap.
“Why I ... yes.”
“Of course they do,!” Drustina reinforced the Bishop’s words to nail the lie. “Of course they have souls, how can a woman give birth to a boy, or a man if she cannot translate his god-given soul via her body from God to her own baby? If this God of yours gives a man a soul, he must give it sometime at birth or when she is carrying the baby. If this holy spiritual thing you call a soul has to pass through the woman’s body then it stands to reason she must have her own soul to direct her baby’s soul.”
Brendon tried another desperate tack.
“The soul is passed via the man’s seed.”
“Oh, but I’ve heard you people preaching time and again that the joining of a man with a woman is a sinful act. ‘Conceived and born in sin I think you describe it.’ Do you think this God of yours would use a sinful act to convey such an all important gift. The very gift that you say is all important in separating men from the beasts. The very gift that enables them to understand, to know and therefore to worship this god of yours. Surely such a priceless and pure gift would not be granted through a sinful act.
Your God uses the UNION of a man and a woman to create life and endow it with a soul. That Godly union, clearly implies that your God considers both partners are EQUAL in that union. Your God has ordained it by creating this way of making life. Your prophet simply tells you to follow his example by loving one another; nowhere in your book, does your prophet discriminate against women.”
Brendon fell silent, the damned woman was turning all his theological interpretations on their heads. Drustina twisted the theological knife one more exquisite turn.
“I suggest you do as your own prophet says and follow him by rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, ipso facto, render unto Marag, that which is Marag’s; namely her throne and her realm!
If you won’t, then I will for once, heed your prophet’s words, and do it for you, with the sword if necessary.”
“You have not the men to do that!”
“No but I have the serpent’s head, the unbeliever right here on my ship and at the mercy of my sword. If you preach blasphemy by your own tongue in contradiction of your own scriptures, I could easily defend myself using your own theological reasoning. What is it I hear your kind constantly screaming in hate ... death to the blasphemer! I can readily show that your have been spreading blasphemy by both thought and deed in denying this queen her right to her throne, her crown and her realm.”
She paused and waited for Brendon’s response. Nothing came immediately but eventually a grudging acceptance of the new status quo escaped reluctantly from his lips.
“You are a cunning bitch but I will accept your arguments. Where did you learn so much of our scriptures?”
Drustina wagged her head and turned to Carl.
“Tell him husband. I must go and speak to Althred, he must be tired of bouncing around off Roches point.”
While Drustina left, Carl patiently and somewhat patronisingly explained to Bishop Brendon that during her extensive travels, the lioness had spent time in the holy land discussing Holy Scriptures with both Christian and Jewish scholars. His narrative proved to be of interest to everybody aboard for the many adventures were every bit as interesting as the theological discussions he and his wife Drustina had shared.
When the Lioness returned the look-out duties were swapped and Udris had to take his turn rolling and pitching on the endless Atlantic seas while Drustina and the rest returned to Corgheig to re-instate Queen Marag.
The Populace as a whole were tired of the cant and subsequent corruptions ensuing from the theocratic oppression and Drustina’s act proved hugely popular. Needless to add that in so doing, Drustina achieved her own aims; namely to create a powerful ally to help when the time for war came.
~~oo000oo~~
Below is the Character list.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Basically a 'filling in' chapter as Drustina makes her way unobstructed up the West Coast of Hibernia. The Munster men who act as her pilots can only advise her as far the estuary of the River Shannon for the kingdoms are divided tribally near this border and the Vikings are active in the Shannon estuary.
The Angry Mermaid 98
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 98.
With Queen Marag securely set upon her throne again, Drustina and her companions were keen to get on; but not before sorting out the issues of the treasonable bishops and the superstitious, treacherous soldiers of the royal guard who were supposed to be sworn to protect Marag.
In the court, Drustina had demonstrated to Marag just how forceful and yet fair a queen had to be if she was to earn and keep both respect and affection from the men around her. After the hearings and punishments in the Brethon court that Drustina had presided over, she came at last to her explanations for her actions to Marag.
“It’s a matter of balance and justice tempered with authority and firmness,” she explained.
Later, during a private meal with only Marag, her most senior chieftains, Carl, Althred and Udris; Drustina explained to the young queen what her hopes and ambitions were. She did this to reassure the young queen and her chieftains once again that she had no designs on Marag's realm.
“I have no ambition to steal anybody-else’s realms. I seek only to recover what was rightfully mine, namely the beaches and harbours and the fields and forests that extended right up the foot of Yr Wyddfa. That is where my family have harvested timber and built boats since time immemorial. I seek little else; for there is little else for me to recover. I know my parents and my grandparents are dead and I must presume my brothers and cousins are dead. They disappeared after one of our battles with the cursed Vikings.”
Queen Marag bit her lip uncertainly. She had few words of comfort to offer the Lioness for she well knew how hurtful was the loss of family and the inadequacies of words to heal that hurt. It was the deaths of Marag’s father and uncles that had thrown her onto the throne with no experience and little preparation. Her lack of queenly skills and knowledge were the weapons the bishops had used against her by associating such inexperience and seeming incompetence with her femininity.
Since Drustina had crashed into Marag’s troubled life like some wild storm sent by Nodens, the turmoil and tempestuousness of the Warrior Queen’s actions had opened Marag’s eyes and taught her more in a few days than the whole of her earlier life. Marag was still living in a spin as she desperately tried to assimilate all the shocks and changes. In the first few days of her restoration whilst Drustina was meting out punishments, Marag had gone frequently running to the Lioness and her man in search of advice.
Now the Lioness was telling her that she was leaving, the young queen was in a spin.
“Lioness! Pleeease ... can you not at least leave me one of your generals to advise me about resisting the Vikings, for they are bound to return and probably before this year is out.”
“So who would you have? The Saxon Althred or The Celt Udris, both are proven commanders.”
“Can I not have the giant?”
Drustina smiled and wagged her head.
“No. You cannot have Carl. He is my man and my most stalwart companion. I cannot let him go for I love him as every one of this band of brothers knows. My mind would be in turmoil wondering if he was safe.”
“And so would mine worrying about you Dru.” Carl added.
He turned to Marag and smiled as any man would to a young and seemingly unsullied maid.
“I’m sorry Marag, I’m not available. Your best offer is the one the Lioness has made, Udris or Althred. They are both tested commanders.”
Marag frowned nervously for she had no wish to offend either of the men on offer. Fearful of causing offence she once again turned to Drustina for advice.
“Who would you recommend Lioness?”
Drustina swallowed then let out a choked squawk.
“Hell girl, you put me in a quandary. You ask me who is the better of my remaining commanders. Truly Marag, they would not be my commanders if they were not both good and trustworthy. I can trust either of them with my life and I have done.”
“But they must have different qualities; qualities that would best suite one of them to my needs.”
Drustina turned to Udris and Althred as she slumped defeatedly.
“The girl asks me gentlemen, which of you I think better qualified to help her if the Vikings return. I think first that all of us had best determine the dangers she faces and how to tackle them. Then the girl might be better placed to judge for herself. Here is my idea.
Let each of us each write down what we think then Gisela can read out each list without disclosing the author. Are you happy for that Gisela?”
The young Viking princess felt proud and honoured to be included in this process and nodded enthusiastic agreement. The task was started while Marag's new retainers and chiefs watched approvingly. Drustina and her commanders each wrote down their thoughts then passed them to Gisela who finally read them out while Marag sat with pen and ink. Finally after considerable consultation with her own retainers and arm’s-men, she chose her general. Drustina felt a little miffed that Althred’s list was marginally more comprehensive even than hers.
‘The man’s thought more about it than I have but that’s a good thing. But then, I was not really trying for I am not the one being scrutinised.’
As Marag waved the chosen list she grinned while her retainers nodded again.
“Well it looks like the Saxon Althred.” Marag declared. Drustina had one last question for Marag’s men.
“Are you Chieftains of Munster happy to take counsel and if necessary, commands from a Saxon.”
After some murmuring that appeared consensual one of the older senior chieftains spoke for them all.
“Lioness. Anything is better than the cursed Viking yoke. Yes! We will accept his commands provided they come through our young queen’s mouth. Then we will know there is no plotting or duplicity.”
Drustina turned to Althred and was pleased to see that he showed no offence at the slight suggestion that he might be duplicitous.
‘He’s learning diplomacy I see!’ She thought. ‘It’ll stand him in good stead.’ She smiled at Althred.
“Well Saxon, this will be your acid test. Remember, never be afraid to ask for advice and opinions, it will usually be freely and honestly given. Form your own opinions of your captains, do not let the whispered lie take root and finally always, always gather as much intelligence as you can.”
She then turned to Marag’s men.
Remember this, when next I come to call on Marag’s and your support, the message will come either from Heliox, or Udris or Carl.”
With those final words, Drustina turned to leave but Carl had to give his own advice to Althred.
“Remember Althred. Be cautious, be cunning and never under-estimate the Vikings.”
Drustina grinned as she paused.
“Well said husband. Let us be away.”
They left the same quay they had first set foot upon when they had arrived in Corgheig. Amidst sombre farewells from Marag and her people they said their final farewells. Four hours later, the four Mermaid ships were meeting the swells of the mighty Atlantic.
~~oo000oo~~
Out on the mighty Atlantic, Corgheig pilots who knew the dangerous waters and capes of South West Hibernia were stunned by the sea keeping properties of the four mermaid ships. As they reared and slammed at speed over the long and oft-times fearsomely high Atlantic swells, Drustina smiled at the expressions of disbelief and even fear as poundings that would have shattered the pinewood planking a Viking longship or split a leather-skinned Irish curragh did nothing to the super tough oak hulls.
Drustina felt a visceral satisfaction as she watched the Munster men continually checking the mermaid hulls. They kept flinching at the pounding while their eyes kept flitting from planks to frames and thwarts looking for any failing fittings. To their relief, none appeared. Even after the fourth day, when they finally reached the wide welcoming waters of the great river Shannon, the Mermaid hulls were as sound as ever.
Finally they reached the bar of the mighty river that normally raged tempestuously when a prevailing south-westerly gale blew in driving the biggest of the waves before it. The Munster men had warned Drustina of this and, as an experienced seaman, she took their warning seriously. In the final two days of the passage she had been keeping an experienced eye on the sky and the clouds. Consequently, she had picked her arrival wisely to arrive with wind and tide in her favour.
A long easy north-westerly swell pushed by a steady north-westerly breeze, powered them safely over the bar at high tide. Drustina took full advantage of the beneficial forces the sea God Nodens had sent her and they swept like race-horses into the wide open estuary. When they finally slowed in the calmer waters, the crews relaxed and the Munster men informed her.
“Lioness, this is as far as we take you. The O’Neill Clan control Ulster and the DalGleish Clan used to control Southern Connaught with the Shannon estuary. We believe the Vikings are very active in the estuary so we have no certainty about who is in charge of the north shore. If you want the DalGleish support you must treat with them. It is rumoured that the O’Neill’s are the main power in the land.”
Drustina nodded then asked the men.
“How will you return to Munster?”
“We walk.”
“Do not any of you wish to continue with the adventure by making the journey all around your island country. “
The men hesitated and two younger men who obviously had few family ties or responsibilities agreed to stay with the ships. They grinned as they considered the adventures they might have then they sobered when Drustina warned them.
“It will not be a ride of pleasure my boys. There will be plenty of danger and a real risk of death if we are caught by any Viking forces. They have no love for me and will show me no mercy; so they will treat all of us the same. Immediate death probably awaits us if we are captured. Think long and hard about this. My other companions have.”
Her warnings failed to deter them and Drustina had to admire their pluck. That night they made camp on an isolated beach inside a headland on the southern shores of the great river estuary.
At dawn they spied strangers watching them from a rocky knoll with stunted trees blasted by the wind-born sea salt.
“Who are they?” Carl asked the Munster men.
“They are possibly DalGleish men. Their banner seems to imply that.”
“Call to them in Gaelic.”
One of the Munster men did so and the band of strangers waved slowly. Normally this was interpreted as a friendly but cautious gesture. Drustina decided to accompany one of the Munster men and try to parley with them. One of the young men who had volunteered to go all the way around Hibernia with them, offered to accompany her. She accepted his offer so they walked to edge of the dunes and waved a white flag slowly then waited. The strangers appeared to be discussing something then eventually two of their number came forward to meet the visitors. Soon they were within earshot of each other and Drustina called.
“I am Drustina ap Erin ap Caderyn of Lleyn in Cambria. Who are you?”
Her female voice must have given the other man some reassurance and he called back without hesitation.
“I am Dorvan O’Dalgliesh, prince of this realm. What is your business?”
“Firstly we come in peace; as you can tell we are Celts, like you.”
“If you mean no harm put down your sword, we do not recognise those strange ships.”
Drustina turned to her young companion.
“I suppose I’d better do that. You get ready to run back if they try to take me.”
He wagged his head determinedly.
“Not bloody likely Lioness. If I did that I could never show my face in Munster again. I will wait here with my bow in my hand. That way they will realise I am at least prepared to fight if they are planning a trick. Besides I speak the language better than you.”
Drustina grinned. 'He'll do.' She thought.
“I hoped you’d say something like that. I will remove my sword just as they have asked but my daggers will remain close to my breast.”
Her young companion grinned and was almost tempted to say ‘and very nice breasts too,’ but he bit his tongue. He had seen the skill that handled those daggers; 'the lioness was not a woman to be messed with or insulted'. Drustina read his thoughts and grinned.
"Just watch my back comrade; I’ll watch my front ... and these." (She pressed her hands under her breasts and giggled.)
Relieved that she had shown no offence, he grinned back and wagged his head in genuine affection for the Celtic Queen. Drustina had won over another loyal supporter.
Having made one firm friend she stepped forward into the next valley between the dunes and prepared to try and make more friends.
Dorvan O’Dalgliesh, having realised the stranger approaching him was nought but a woman, also stepped forward whilst sheathing his sword to display his peaceful intent. They met in the fine sand where they sank to their knees and both grinned as they tripped before their extended hands met.
Drustina’s grin grew into a giggle and Dorvan’s into a belly laugh as they flopped to end up with their faces almost touching whilst on their knees in the sand. After a moment’s hesitation Dorvan grinned again.
“Shall I Kiss you or shake your hand maid?”
Drustina smiled at the unwitting compliment.
'He's either a real charmer or a bit blind' She thought.
“I am no maid Sir; I am a mother to six children. But you may kiss me if you think it safe to do so.”
Dorvan’s grin faded for a moment.
“Why? Would I be in danger if I did?”
“If it’s just a kiss, I’ll allow that; anything more and you could end up with your throat slit... with this.”
As they continued kneeling on all fours with their faces almost touching, Drustina deftly slipped her right-hand dagger from her breast scabbard and laid it warm against Dorvan’s throat. The movement was so swift and simple that Dorvan paled momentarily. The blade had appeared as if by magic!
Drustina felt his ‘Adam’s-apple’ jerk as Dorvan swallowed with fright so she removed it and instead pressed her lips against his. His eyes brightened with relief and surprise and he responded accordingly by returning her kiss. They lingered for several seconds until a trust was established then Drustina knelt back on her heels and grinned as Dorvan remained with his hands pressed into the sand and his face looking up like a contented wolf.
“You kiss well Irish-man, clean and sweet. A girl could readily fall for your charms. Let’s hope you’re as honourable in all other dealings.”
He sat up and settled to sit on his heels as he studied the maid’s beauty.
“And yours’ was as sweet a kiss as ever a man could wish for. Now tell me girl who the hell you are and what brings you to these shores at such a dangerous time?”
“Oh truly I understand the dangers sir; I am Drustina, the Lioness of Carthage.
Dorvan’s jaw sagged as he gasped and looked again at the beautifully tooled dagger lying jabbed in the sand. His noble’s eye quickly recognised the quality and he hurriedly stood up whilst extending his hand to help the maid. There was no need, Drustina’s agility brought her to her feet with equal ease and she then poked her toe at her dagger to flick it easily into her outstretched hand. As she sheathed the weapon under her bust Dorvan’s eyes widened as he recognised her skill with weapons. To emphasise his acceptance he smiled somewhat ruefully.
“I think you had better collect your sword madam, before we meet my father the king. I’m thinking you consider that sword your badge of rank and authority. I apologise, I had no idea who you were when I first saw you across the dunes.”
“I take no offence Prince Dorvan; I hardly look like some noble queen paying a formal visit, do I? And thank you for letting me carry my sword, come let us go and recover it. I do consider it as my third hand and yes, it is something akin to my badge of office so I thank you. Now, how far is it to your father’s house?”
“At least an hour’s gallop, but my house is just a mile or two atop those cliffs yonder; I can get you horses there.”
As Drustina shook the sand from her boots, Dorvan called his squire to his side and explained.
“Go back to the house. Get a dozen horses then send a message to my father. Tell him we have very important guests tonight!”
With those instructions issued, the young Prince and the Lioness went to meet the rest of her companions. By the time introductions and courtesies were completed, the price’s squire returned with a score of horses.
After stopping by at the Dorvan’s home which Drustina recognised as little more than a fortified watchtower, they rode on to the castle and home of Dal O’Dalgliesh, the Clan leader and minor Irish king.
~~oo000oo~~
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
Drustan Meets King Dal O'Dalgliesh but even while she is made welcome, the Vikings appear offshore. Fortunately the Connacht tribes have made some reasonable plans for their defences and the Vikings are not aware that the Lioness and her forces have added immeasurably to those plans.
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1819.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1547.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1548.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1540.htm
The Angry mermaid 99
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 99.
When Drustina arrived at Dal O’Dalgliesh’s castle she rubbed her arse ruefully and remarked to Carl.
“I’ve been too long out of the saddle husband. Just over an hour’s gallop and my arse feels as though ‘tis on fire.”
“So does mine girl. You’d think that bouncing around on a wooden thwart half my life would have inured me to such discomforts.
“Different muscles and different bones, me thinks,” Dorvan grinned as they dismounted outside the Castle gates.
Dorvan called out and declared himself and the gates were swiftly opened. He explained to his guests.
“We keep the gates closed normally as also does the town. We don’t trust those Vikings. They’ve already raided once on the north shore but we eventually beat them back.”
He pointed to a small settlement across the river where some freshly prepared timbers formed a new palisade. Smoke was emerging from some chimneys indicating Celtic re-occupancy and Drustina stared at the settlement thoughtfully. Her thoughts were interrupted as the gates were opened and the Chief of the DalGleish clan called to his son.
“So who are these guests my son? Are you seriously trying to tell me you have the Lioness of Carthage with you?”
“No less father. The lady stands before you and does not bend her knee.”
“Why not woman?” The king demanded of Drustina.
Drustina looked him straight in the eye and replied.
“We are at least equal Your Majesty, I am a queen by any standard and I came by my titles nobly. I will not bore your with my full title and I’ll thank you to accord me my due respects.
Dal O’Dalgliesh glanced at the girl and realised the image of a pretty woman was misleading. His second assessment recognised the well used scabbard that contained what was obviously a sword designed for a smaller hand, a girl’s hand. The handle showed a polish, not of some jewelled, frivolous bauble, but of well crafted metal smoothed but dulled by frequent handling giving it a muted lustre. It was definitely a warrior’s sword, a well used sword that presaged combat and death.
He looked again at the group and noted with a royal eye used to recognising loyalty and respect; that her male companions stood casually but respectfully behind her as she declared her claim. Here was no ordinary woman.
Having made his summary, Dal O'Dalgliesh nodded sagely and indicated his invitation into his castle with his open hand.
“Follow me your majesty. I will have my wife show you suitable quarters. Is the young maid your maidservant?”
Drustina grinned just once as she felt Gisela bristle with indignation.
“Indeed not sir, she is my lady in waiting. She is a royal princess in her own right. I do however have my husband at my back, Carl, the larger Saxon with the red jerkin. Naturally we share our bed.”
“Ah. I see; it won’t affect your quartering, the room and bed is large enough.”
He called into a room off the great hall and his queen appeared with an entourage of ladies.
“We have guests your majesty. Please be a hostess to this estimable lady. She is the Lioness of Carthage.”
Queen Ursula’s eyes widened with surprise then she turned to her ladies and quickly organised the guest arrangements. By the time Drustina and Carl were settled and the rest of the party housed, a meal was being prepared. As Drustina lay bootless on the bed there was a knock and Prince Dorvan declared himself. Carl opened it and invited him in. Drustina sat up with her back against the wall.”
“Where is the princess staying?” She asked Dorvan.
“Two doors down," the Prince replied, adding, "there is a secure lock on her door.”
“An inside lock I hope, she is not my prisoner, she is a free companion of our band.”
“But is she not a Viking, a Norsewoman?”
“She is,” Drustina confirmed, “and a high ranking princess as well; but she is my companion and she chooses to stay by my side for her own protection and security. There are many Saxons, Gauls, Mercians, Celts, Picts and Scots who would dearly love to have her as their captive.”
“Who is she then?”
“She is Harald Cold-blood’s daughter.”
Dorvan stood stunned with incredulity.
“My God! You hold the butcher’s daughter captive?!!”
“No. I told you she is not my prisoner. She is as disgusted by her father’s handiwork as is every other woman and civilised man. Her story is not a pretty one and her treatment at her own father’s hands is evidence enough of Cold-blood’s bestiality. She is NOT to be locked in her room; she comes and goes as freely as each one of my companions.”
Dorvan nodded uncertainly. The thought of having the dreaded Viking King’s own daughter under his roof both intrigued him and worried him but his was not to reason why. He hoped to please the Lioness by therefore declaring
“There is a lock inside and out. I will give her the outer key so she has charge of her own protection. She is very pretty.”
Drustina smiled enigmatically as she warned the Celtic Prince.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking she cannot look after herself young man.”
Carl then added his warning.
“She’s handy with a sword as well; very handy!”
“I was just thinking, that’s all. My father is on at me to find a wife. She is well formed and fair of face and as you say, of royal blood. All the high-born ladies in this city are like horses.”
Drustina snorted with amusement then lied to protect Gisela’s Lesbianism.
“You surprise me Dorvan, it’s my experience that Irish Celtic maids are generally very attractive girls. Anyway, forget about Gisela lad. She’s had some bad experiences and detests men. Don’t risk your manhood with her; she’d more than likely cut it off!”
Dorvan gaped uncomprehendingly for a moment then slowly got the jist of Drustina’s warning.
“Oh! Oh! I see where you’re coming from now. I see.”
“And furthermore, she’s still under my protection your highness so any abuse towards her is an abuse towards me. Besides, she’s not yet reached the age of independent royal consent; it’s higher than for ordinary girls because there are usually political issues attached to a royal union.”
Dorvan fell momentarily silent then turned to speak of other things. When Drustina realised where he was taking the conversation she simply told him.
“Those are matters we’ll discuss with your father and his chieftains over dinner later; you will obviously have your chance to speak then. Now my husband and I wish to take a brief sleep. This is the first proper bed we’ve shared for five days. Please give my apologies to your mother for missing the midday lunch, we are desperately tired.”
Realising he was going to learn nothing until his father was present; Dorvan made his excuses and left. Drustina turned to Carl and nodded imperceptibly towards the bed. He did not need much persuading.
~~oo000oo~~
Later, as they lay listening to the sounds in the courtyard below they both noted the sound of hooves clattering urgently as a messenger had obviously just arrived. The pair exchanged glances and frowned as they wondered what was afoot. They had not long to wait. A knock on the door declared King Dal was outside and they hastily made themselves decent before ushering him in. His face did not bode well.
“Vikings!”
“Where?” Carl asked as Drustina finished buttoning her Jerkin.
“They have been spotted to the north of Loop head, sailing for the river mouth.”
“That’s many miles away yet from Limerick. You must have a good watch system.”
“We are prepared and have signal fires set but we have no idea yet where they intend landing or their strength.”
Drustina exchanged a knowing nod with her husband who frowned.
“The same old equation Dru. They can move lots of men quickly and pick their landing ground. The defenders can only respond after the event.”
Drustina raised her eyebrows and squinted knowingly.
“Normally, yes, but we have four fast ships each capable of holding a score or more of men. We can deposit a hundred well armed men at some vital place to stymie their plans or at least slow them down.”
King Dal had been listening to this.
“So where are your ships?”
“Well hidden on the South shore.” Carl replied as Drustina finished donning her boots.
Dorvan answered for them for he knew the local names.
“They’re beached just below the Glin under the headland and invisible from the main river. They are about three miles from my tower.”
“Where are the Vikings now?”
“Still to the north of the Loop head. I’m betting that they have raided Galway and sacked the monastery.”
King Dal cursed as he digested the information but Drustina was more interested as to how Dorvan had gathered the information so quickly. When she asked, he explained.
“We use signal fires but they only tell us where the Vikings have attacked or been spotted. I’m only guessing that they’ve raided the Monastery. There is a holy relic their made of solid gold.”
“Then they’ll have definitely raided the monastery,” Carl remarked.
“All they do is steal and plunder.” Dal cursed again.
“And rape and murder,” Drustina finished.
“So which plan shall we adopt?” Dal turned to his son, “the water plan or the land plan?”
Dorvan glanced at Drustina hopefully and replied.
“The Lioness can add four extra ships and they are well placed to trap the Vikings from behind once they come past Foynes.”
“That depends on how many Viking ships there are.” Drustina added. “How many ships have you got, and how fast are they. Are they even designed to fight or are they just merchantmen fitted out for bowmen? Do they have oars? How fast are they?”
“Well they are not long ships but they are sturdy and each can hold a hundred men. We can fit sweeps if we have time.” King Dal replied.
“Then do it. I will come to the quayside now to see what needs to be done.
Without further ado, Drustina and Carl girded their weapons and followed Dorvan to the quayside while his Father King Dal set about organising the clan’s defences. When she reached the quay she viewed the ships with mixed feelings as her mind raced to form a plan. She needed a better chart of the Shannon estuary than the crude outline the Munster men had provided. When she asked Dorvan he pointed her to the fortified church attached to the castle by the city gate-house.
“There’s one in there. The priest acts as harbourmaster and presides over any disputes about the water rights and channels.”
It seemed a strange set-up to Drustina but if it worked, she was not prepared to condemn it. The priest appeared even as she approached the church door.
“The chart?” She asked.
He had anticipated her and the main chart was already laid out on the alter table that served also as a secular meeting place. Quickly she went over the chart’s salient points with Dorvan who had sailed the waters all his life. Several ideas came to her mind but the crucial element was the size of the Viking fleet. Dorvan also recognised this and had already sent riders to several salient points to report as soon as they were able.
‘At least they have their wits about them!’ Drustina told herself as she continued discussing the issues with Dorvan.
When the king returned, Dorvan and Drustina then discussed several water-plan options with the King and his chieftains. Three plans were hastily prepared for want of a more sophisticated signal system. Drustina only had red, green and white arrow flares. Even these crude options impressed the Clans-men for they had never seen such effective colours before.
“Where did you learn of these marvels?” King Dal demanded.
“Byzantium.” Drustina replied monosyllabically, little realising how tremendously impressive this single word was to the less well travelled Dalglieshes. Next she offered some hastily contrived plans.
“A red flare means the Viking fleet exceeds twenty ships and we had best try to lure them to our waiting land forces where we should hopefully outnumber them ashore.
A white flare means between ten and twenty ships. Then we will follow them up as far as Foynes while you come down river to meet them there and hopefully we can defeat them using the Island as a trap to divide their forces. Can you assemble your land army near Foynes?”
“It would take a day. I will try to speed it along but I would only have two thousand men.”
Drustina nodded as she explained further.
“We fire a green flare if there are less than ten longships. We should be able to beat them on the water if we can trap them at or near Foynes Island. If we do beat them afloat, we can force them ashore on the south side and into the arms of your land forces.”
“What of the North shore?” Dorvan asked.
“If their fleet is too large there is little we can do to stop them landing over there. We have not the forces on that side to mass an army. The plan then would be to try and hold them at Foynes so they can come no further up the river.”
“You speak only of holding them; can we not meet them in open field and smash them?” Dorvan complained.
His own father tutted at this suggestion.
“Listen to the Lioness lad. We need a week to assemble a proper army and it’s right in the middle of harvest time. Besides, these bloody Norsemen are no walkovers! Wherever we meet them there’ll be plenty of bloodshed!”
Drustina nodded and made to mount her horse. King Dal told his son to join her and return to Glin where they would expect to first meet and even possibly cross swords with the invaders.
“If you’re so keen to fight lad, maybe some time with the lady will temper your views. When you do meet with them, you’ll find it very different encounter from the training ring. Your opponent will genuinely be out to kill you!”
Dorvan did not know how to respond to such a dire warning but his youth deprived him of the wit and understanding to realise all the dangers that faced him. He grinned a little nervously and mounted his horse.
Two hours later tired horses brought them to his Tower home at Glin but Drustina did not stop there. She hurried on to the deep inlet where her ships were tucked well away behind a steep wooded cliff where the casual observer would not see them as they sailed up the river to Limerick.
They prepared as much as they could for battle and simply waited out of sight. As darkness overtook them, Dorvan appeared on a fresh horse.
“There are between twenty and thirty ships. The signal fires from Loop head have been spotted. They tell us that number and we are fairly certain. They rounded Loop head just now. I have sent a messenger to my father.”
“How many men have joined your banner this evening?” Drustina asked the prince.
“Two hundred. They are arriving in dribs and drabs as they get the call.”
“Good well done. We’ll make a commander of you yet. Our next move is to send some men to the north shore to pretend to be a large force. The idea is to try and dissuade them from landing on that side whilst making them think that this southern shore is deserted. They’ll probably be hoping to make an un-opposed landing. Thirty ships with at best one hundred men per ship, that’s a maximum of three thousand men."
Drustina’s next move was to despatch Heliox and his ship with as many men as was safe to land on the north shore. Heliox’s second voyage conveyed horses, arrows and men to reinforce the decoy. Eventually they had landed nearly two hundred men, twenty horses and thousands of arrows. Drustina was eternally grateful that King Dal had seen fit to have his watch-towers abundantly stocked with such weapons. The bow and arrow was cheap and abundant whilst being by far the most effective weapon for it pierced both armour and chain-mail. Furthermore if men ran out of ammunition, they were often still far enough away from their enemies to run away and hide or simply sneak back into the forests if the land was wooded. One thing the Celtic defenders could do was unleash wave after wave of deadly artillery against any force attempting to land on the north shore. Her last instruction to Heliox was almost superfluous.
“If they land on your side, shoot to kill as many horses as you see. There won’t be many but horses give mobility. The slower they are on land, the more time we have to match their forces."
As she was advising Heliox she was also instructing Dorvan.
“Just remember, so far we have an intelligence advantage over them. They have no idea what to expect but our signal fires will have told them we are expecting them. They will be desperate to try and gain whatever advantage they can so they’ll favour an un-opposed landing. The only remote beaches they are likely to find are downstream west of Foynes. The land is wild and wooded in those parts. That means once they are off the beaches, they’ll be tramping through dense woodland and we can ambush them at almost every tree. You know your own forests gentlemen. They don’t. The only things they’ve got going for them is their reputation and their armour; oh and their superb fighting skills. These men will not be pushovers gentleman, your best defence is the ambush with bow and arrow. Try and avoid a sword fight unless you are a trained soldier with some decent armour.”
As a last word of reassurance, Drustina declared.
“I have faced these Vikings many times before gentlemen. Inside their chain and plate they are difficult to kill; but not impossible.”
~~oo000oo~~
BELOW ARE THE ADMIRALTY CHARTS FOR THE RIVER SHANNON WESTERN HIBERNIA.
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1819.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1547.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1548.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1540.htm
Character list.
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/44661/angry-mermaid-ch...
First contact is made with the invading Norsemen. Drustina nearly gets caught thanks to a reckless but humanitarian act of kindness.
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1819.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1547.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1548.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1540.htm
Most of the first action takes place just east and south of Scattery Island.
The Angry Mermaid. 100
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 100
As they returned to Tarbert, Drustina ensured all four of the mermaid ships were always afloat and ready for immediate action. She then sent Heliox to collect the Men that Dorvan had gathered at Glin Castle some two miles further up the estuary. Next she despatched Carl and Udris to survey as much of the shoreline as they could whilst avoiding any contact with the Viking ships.
“They’ll be coming in from Loop head so if you see them, try and determine how long before they reach Glin, that’s where Heliox is loading Dorvan’s men now. I’m going to join him in case more men have arrived at Glin Castle. Ideally, I’d like at least two hundred men and a few horsemen making as much commotion on the north shore, preferably by commandeering more horses with Dorvan’s consent from the north-shore dwellers.
Once they see the Viking ships they’ll probably agree to just about anything to protect their lives and villages. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. I can’t afford to send too many men across the estuary we need at least five hundred on this side to pick away at the Vikings in the forests. They’ll be spread very thin from Tarbert where we first landed, all the way up the South shore to Foynes. The big problem is we have no idea exactly where they’ll choose to land.”
With clear instructions handed down, Drustina followed Heliox up to the tiny pier at Glin that served the Castle’s logistical needs. Once there, Dorvan reported that he had only four hundred men altogether but men were still coming in from the inland villages. After the last Viking attack, every Celt in Connacht knew that it was essential to meet the Vikings as soon as possible on the beach and before they got themselves established ashore.
Dal O’Dalgliesh’s fleet of ships was an essential part of the interception strategy but the ships were a necessary compromise between sailing in all seasons upon the huge waves of the great west sea and carrying cargo when not called upon for war. He did have three ships that resembled longships however and they operated partly as ferries and partly as traders up and down the long Shannon estuary. These were the fastest Hibernian ships that were first to be fitted with oars when the alarm had been raised. They would be the first ships to reach Foynes from Limerick. The more numerous, sea-going boats would follow as each was fitted with oars and made ready.
When she was assisting with loading some horses onto her own ship at Glin, Drustina still had no idea how many ships or men King Dal had yet mustered at Foynes. After crossing the estuary and landing the horses with Heliox she had yet to decide whether to go down-channel to meet Carl and Udris and assess the Viking threat or to go up-channel to Foynes and assess King Dal’s defensive situation.
In the end the decision was made for her by a very fortunate find. As they were landing the horses in the water Heliox noticed a mast sticking up from behind some rocks. Fearful at first that it might be a hidden Viking raider they stood to stations while a horseman was sent to investigate. He came back with good news.
One of the Viking ships from the previous attack had run aground on the rocks and been abandoned. The horseman also brought back a local farmer who nervously explained that he was dismantling the ship piece by piece.
“I meant no harm sirs! The ship was badly smashed on the rocks, it would never sail again. The local clan leader said I could use it. My son and I have been dismantling the ship to make an addition to my house.”
Drustina was just about to dismiss the frightened man then she had a thought.
“Where are the timbers you’ve salvaged?”
“Still behind the rock. When we have recovered all we can use, we will have one of the villagers help me haul it up yonder to my farmhouse. My son and I cannot let the good wood go to waste for his wife is with child and the house is too small. I am not stealing the timbers; the clan leader said ...”
“Yes, yes; I quite understand, I’m not accusing you of theft. How much of the ship is left?”
“Very little miss except for the big frames, I’ve nearly broken it all down, but everything I’ve salvaged is stacked up by the rocks.
She thumped her palm with her fist as she cursed with delight.
“Bloody fantastic! I have an Idea. Heliox bring some men with me to the wreck.”
They left enough men to mind the horses and unload the arrows while Drustina dashed along the beach to inspect the farmer’s handiwork. What she saw brought a smile to her face. Most of the heavy timbers save the mast, yard and keel were sawn up into manageable ten foot lengths or shorter. The farmer’s son was still sitting with the saw by his side wondering what was going on. As Drustina rooted through the neatly stacked and sorted timber she could have kissed the farmer.
“You can keep the planking and lighter frames for your house but I am commandeering some of the heavy frames and timbers including the Mast, yard and keel. I want you to immediately cut the keel into two fifteen foot lengths, NOW! Don’t stand there gawking man.”
Shocked by the strange woman’s assumption of authority he glanced questioningly to Heliox who nodded confirmation of Drustina’s rank. Thus reassured, the farmer motioned to his son and commenced sawing while Drustina organised the other timbers to be carried to the Mermaid. When she returned she set several strong men to spell the farmers and the heavy keels was soon fashioned into sizes that Drustina wanted. As the timbers appeared beside the Mermaid the men started muttering bemusedly until Heliox grasped what was afoot. He quickly subdued the men as he caught Drustina’s attention and made an over-arm flicking motion to simulate a trebuchet. Drustina smiled and held her fingers out to indicate a small one that was fairly mobile and liftable.
As Heliox encouraged the men, Drustina returned to the farmers.
“Do you have a cart?”
The farmers had by now learned about the Viking danger and were proving very co-operative. Indeed they had already volunteered to join Heliox’s north-shore band. He grinned as he confirmed his cart.
“Yes my lady but I’m afraid it is a heavy cumbersome affair and it needs at least one ox or two horses to pull it.”
“The heavier and stronger the better. I only want the wheels, shafts and backbone.”
“Will I get it back milady?”
“Very unlikely. You will be compensated if we can drive the Vikings back. Go and get it and any more tools you keep on your farm.”
This was as good a promise as the farmer could expect for if the Vikings were not driven off, he stood to lose everything including his life.
Within an hour the cart was delivered and dismantled on the beach. In that hour Drustina had not been idle. The frame and swing arm of a recognisable trebuchet was already taking place. Much of the iron from the Viking ship was being cannibalised and with the additional tools provided by the farmer, Drustina soon had a workable trebuchet and a wheeled frame to carry it. As she was loading it aboard the Mermaid and preparing to leave Heliox on the north shore, Udris and Carl appeared from the West.
“There are three and twenty longships and they are under sail. We think they are conserving their energies by not rowing until they have decided where to land. Our guess is they’ll be here in about four hours. We put into a little village to learn the states of the tides and they were already alerted by the signal fires. We instructed them to mass as best they can with as many horses and men as they can muster and to try and match the longships all the way along the north shore. When we left they had about fifty men but they have a couple of tributaries to cross as they travel east. We cannot with certainty say how many will eventually join you or when because of the dammed tributaries. It would help I think if we use the mermaids to ferry them across the two widest tributaries.”
Drustina was put in a quandary that Carl readily understood as he recognised the hastily assembled trebuchet.
“Does that thing work?” He asked Drustina.
“Not very well, it’s a bit ramshackle but it’ll sling some modest stones about three to four hundred yards.”
“Enough to sink a long ship?”!
“I doubt it. Maybe damage the sails and rigging.”
“But with speed and manoeuvrability it could be effective. You’ll need plenty of sea-room.” Carl mused.
Drustina smirked and motioned one hand to the immense Shannon estuary.
“How much room d’you need? I was thinking about the narrow Channel at Foynes. If we could tempt them into that we might sink a few if it’s well footed down. The sling arm is a bit too long and it’s not very stable, especially onboard. I was thinking of locating it on the cliff overlooking the Island.”
“Best gather some stones then we can share them out between the other Mermaids.”
After a moderately successful demonstration to the perplexed Celts, the whole band was avidly scouring the rocks for stones and the mermaids were quickly loaded but only to a draught that would not seriously hamper their speed or manoeuvrability. Drustina concluded that she might as well have Heliox with them because until the Vikings passed where they had landed on the north shore, there was nothing useful the North-shore troop could do short of making themselves look as large and conspicuous force as possible.
Having loaded the mermaids as much as speed and manoeuvrability would allow, the four ships set off to assist with the ferrying of the north-shore villagers across the large tributary at Carrigaholt then up along the North shore to Killimer where they had left the original troops. This necessitated their going west down the Shannon as the Vikings came east up the estuary. Every man afloat new it was going to be a cat and mouse affair as the Mermaids depended on speed to avoid being trapped by the longships while they shepherded men along the north shore.
It was a foregone conclusion that the longships would immediately turn to investigate the strange ships on sighting them. It was also a reasonable certainty that some of the Viking captains would recognise the mermaid ships as the nemesis that had twice defeated them in the waters south of Britannia and once, earlier, in the great river that drained Saxony, Frankia and Gaul.
Drustina and Carl knew better than anybody that the Vikings would go mad with a lust for revenge if they recognised either of them. As a precaution, they had long ago stripped all insignia and markings from all their sails and hulls. Anonymity was part of their camouflage for as long as the tactic worked.
~o000o~
In the middle of their loading operations at Carrigaholt, Udris was keeping a lookout of Kilcredhaun point when he spied the first sail as the Viking fleet rounded Kilcloher head. He fired a black smoky daylight arrow to warn Drustina who sailed south to join him to assess the situation.
“They’re under sail and the tide’s ebbing, they’ll be a while yet. Tell Carl and Heliox to load as many as they can and make immediately for Killmer, you can then return to me here. Oh and tell Carl to stay close to the shore, the ebb will be weaker there. The others will have to ride their horses and that’s as many as we can muster.”
“What are your plans Dru?”
“You and I will wait here and take a pop at them with the trebuchet, I don’t suppose I’ll get many shots in before they can overwhelm me so after I’ve fired of a few shots we’ll have to withdraw. I want your ship handy with as many bowmen as you can gather from Carrigaholt just to give my ship some cover. Throw all your stones overboard, we’ll need to be fast when the time comes and you’ll need to carry as many bowmen as you can without seriously slowing you down. I don’t expect to come within longbow range but you never can tell. That’s an awful lot of ships out there.”
“This is risky Dru.” Udris cautioned.
“I know. The only plus is that as we use up my stones, I will get lighter and therefore faster. Once I’m out of ammunition, we’ll make a run for the south shore. I’m hoping they’ll follow us and pay no attention to Carl and Heliox. They should be well up-channel by then anyway.”
Udris nodded slowly, he was not very convinced but any action was better than nothing. Any men watching from either shore would be heartened to see some sort of early defence being mounted. He shrugged and set his ship to follow as closely to The Angry Mermaid as was safe. He was literally within talking distance of Drustina’s stern.
As the longships sailed steadily closer Udris watched Drustina’s stern like a hawk. They both knew that the mermaids performed far better than the square rigged style of the longships when close-hauled to the wind but on a reach with the wind abaft the stern the advantage was not so pronounced. As the pair raced south into the westerly wind Drustina called out to Udris.
“I’ll take a shot at the leading ship with the red and black sail. She’s the biggest and therefore the easiest target. I’ll bet she’s the flagship! If this trebuchet is effective I might just linger and take a few shots but if it’s too unstable on this reach we’ll come about and run like hell for the south shore. The tide is quite strong in mid channel and the choppy sea will give us a better advantage. Besides, it’ll be easier firing this thing over the stern cos’ I can load it with smaller stones to get a better spread where our own rigging and sail isn’t in the way.”
“D’you think they’ll use their oars?” Udris asked.
“If they do, we’ll cease firing and keep to mid channel where the water is roughest. It’s hard to row when the sea is too choppy. Look, see where the tide race is short and steep, already I can see some overfalls ...”
“Those waves are very steep and high Dru! You’d best take great care while you’re laden with the stones,” Udris observed with no little concern, “you’ll have to jettison out some more stone.”
“I will do if I have to,” Drustina finished as she attended to the trebuchet.
Udris watched with curiosity as the first slingful of fist sized stones hurtled away only to splash short
“Bloody sea!” She cursed, “She’s rolling too much. The next load I’ll have to watch how she’s rolling and pick my moment.”
“They’re firing back with their bows.” Udris warned.
They both watched with practised eyes as they determined the Viking’s arrow range. Drustina remarked.
“I’d say about three hundred yards; the Norsemen never did make good bows. Not enough Yew trees in Norvegia I suppose. They’re about fifty yards shorter than this we beastie on a calm day.”
She patted the ‘min-trebuchet’ affectionately. The next fall of Viking arrows fell about twenty yards short and Drustina decided they were close enough. She signalled ‘ready about’ and the two Mermaids pirouetted as a dancing pair to present their sterns to the Viking longships. It appeared that they were running away.
The Vikings found this tempting target just too difficult to resist and soon, several of the lead ships had their oars out. Drustina smiled evilly to Udris and they both simply tightened the sheets to gain another couple of knots. This put their speeds fractionally faster than the Vikings so they spilled a bag-full of wind to match their speeds as closely as they could. As they watched the Vikings rowing furiously Drustina wagged her head and called to Udris.
“What d’you bet it will take them an hour to realise they are not catching us?”
Udris gave her evens and they both chuckled as Drustina’s crew had the Trebuchet turned around to face aft and lashed down again to stop it rolling back. Now it didn’t matter if the Mermaid rolled like a pig in mud; the fore-and-aft motion was infinitely less extreme. Drustina tightened the trebuchet a couple of turns more then slipped the lever. The ram-shackle monstrosity rattled noisily as the arm weight dropped and the stones whistled as they showered through the air.
This time they straddled the stern of the lead ship and they had the satisfaction of seeing several men struck down. More importantly one of the stones sliced across the main halyard and the main-yard lurched but held. Nevertheless, the ship had to haul off and attend to the halyard or risk losing both sail and yard.
“She’ll be delayed a few hours!” Drustina cackled across the water to Udris.
Her lieutenant simply gave her the thumbs up and continued pouring arrows into the offending longship. Very quickly the great ship fell back through the fleet and eventually disappeared behind a headland as the Vikings continued cursing and rowing. Drustina immediately chose some sharp stones that were slightly larger and loaded the trebuchet again.
Once again the contraption rumbled and clattered as the weight dropped and the sling arm swept its mighty arc. At the top of the swing the stones streaked out of the sling and fell in a wide circle that engulfed two ships but seemingly only managed to fell a couple of men on each of the two ships. Drustina frowned as a few holes appeared in the longship sails but otherwise little damage was done. She decided to mix the next charge of the sling and selected some largish boulders mixed with an assortment of lesser stones. She was tempted to wind the trebuchet further but the complaints from the crudely fashioned fittings persuaded her that it might be a bad idea. For the third time the weight rumbled off the drum and the arm swung through its arc to release the stones at the point of fastest rotation. This time one of the larger stones struck down through the planking of one of the pursuers and Drustina noted they geyser of water that spurted up through the hole. In addition, several men were struck and Drustina heard the curses even from a little over three hundred yards.
She was so preoccupied with watching the damaged ship begin to fall back that she did not notice the split in the trebuchet’s main arm. When she fired the weapon for the fourth time there was a deafening crack and the arm broke away to catapult into the sea behind the Mermaid.
It splashed into the wake of the mermaid and immediately began to act as a sea anchor as it dragged and skittered in the wake.
“Damn!!” Drustina cursed. “My fault! I shouldn’t have overloaded the bloody thing!”
A huge cheer erupted from the Viking ships as they realised they were at least safe from the damned killing machine.
Drustina suddenly realised that the Viking pursuers now stood a very good chance of catching up with her unless they could free the broken sling arm. She could even feel the Mermaid jerking as the long timber spar skipped and jerked on the ropes that still attached it to the Mermaid. Frantically she started chopping away at the several drum ropes that had operated the trebuchet and it was a full three minutes before she and several of the crew managed to cut the damnable obstruction free. I those three minutes, the Viking ships were within arrow range and several of her crew were shot before she managed to regain her speed. She herself was lucky insofar as an arrow grazed her arm and thudded into the tiller before her well trained and experienced crew raced to form turtles around the steersman and yardsmen. Even so three of her crew lay dying and one of the two young Munster men was severely wounded. Drustina was too preoccupied with squeezing every ounce of speed from her ship, to attend to any of the injured. There were others who could do that.
On the bright side, being in ‘arrow range’ also put the Viking ships in range of her Celtic arrows and British Yew was a far better long-bow material than Norwegian pinewood. The Celtic arrows were descending upon the Viking ships with much greater force even if the pounding of the Celtic ships reduced their accuracy. The Norsemen’s chain mail proved to be little protection from the lethal ‘bodkins’ that tipped the Celtic arrows. In some instances the arrows even pierced their plate armour if the strike angle was perfectly perpendicular.
The Norsemen’s optimism soon turned to frustration and anger as they watched in disbelief as once again, the two Celtic ships put distance between them.
Once out of range Udris came within shouting range and they discussed what to do.
“I think it best if we go south of that island and try to get them to keep pursuing us. That way we give Carl and Heliox time to assemble the north-shore troop.”
“And if they don’t follow us?”
“Hell Udris, I’m not a clairvoyant! What would you bloody do?”
Udris grinned and shrugged. One thing he had learned whist fighting alongside the Lioness was that she was a master of compromise and innovation. There were only two alternatives north or south around the Island. As they approached, Drustina noted the tall tower and somewhat elaborate buildings so she turned to her local pilot who knew the waters.
“What Island is that?”
“Scattery my lady. The monks have colonised it. Those buildings are a church and an abbey.”
Drustina frowned. If the monks had not evacuated by now, she could not help them.
“They’ll have to hide in their bloody round-tower if any of that lot are tempted to raid the place. And they will be. I suppose the place is loaded with gold and silver ornaments!”
The local pilot nodded with some slight embarrassment for he knew of Drustina’s pagan dislike of the Christian faith.
“Well they’ll have to look to their own defences. We are hopelessly outnumbered over ten to one in ships alone.”
The local pilot gazed at the deck with some dismay and Drustina sensed his concern. She asked him what was wrong.
“Go on, what’s bothering you?”
“The Island is a very holy place. There are many holy relics in the church.”
“Huh! You mean bits of bone or skin or cloth!”
“We still hold them in reverence, just like you hold that sword in reverence.”
Drustina unwittingly grasped the familiar handle and automatically rolled her fingers around the reassuring grip. She replied.
“Yeah, well this sword has served me well and I serve it. I have every right to revere my sword; it has kept me alive on many a battlefield. We go south; the monks can take their chances. It would be suicide to tarry here now!”
The local pilot could readily see the Lionesses quandary and he did not envy her the responsibility of command. If she diverted now and tried to save a hundred monks who were in all probability un-armed; she would sacrifice her own few men and Udris’s crew to being overwhelmed by a couple of thousand enraged Vikings. It simply was not worth it.
They raced on with Udris taking the south side of the main channel and Drustina going close to the southern tip of Scattery to see what she could see. It appeared that the monks had already retreated into their round tower until one of the lookouts spotted a lone figure waving furiously from the southernmost extremity.
Drustina cursed as she saw the expressions of concerns in the Tipperrarian’s eyes.
“What, you want me to risk all our necks for one man’s life and not even a fighting man at that.
“I think we could do it. There’ a tiny pier just a few hundred yards around the point. Look he’s pointing towards it.”
Drustina cursed again as they rounded the southern extremity of the island and sure enough, she saw the tiny pier that jutted out into the turbulent waters. What concerned her more was the small group of figures clustered there. Some were obviously children.
“Why aren’t they up in the bloody round tower?” She demanded of the Tipperrarian Pilot.
“They are not monks, they must be the family that run the Farm on the Southern end.”
“What!!?” Drustina almost screeched as she flung the rudder over and raced for the pier.
She glared uncomprehendingly at the Tipperrarian but realised the situation was not of his doing. Even so she wanted to curse somebody or something that a family with children no less, had been left stranded by the monks to face certain execution. The pilot fell silent for he was also angry and embarrassed that their flight from danger had been delayed. Drustina’s next move impressed him immensely as she brought The Angry Mermaid alongside the pier at speed and screeched to the family to jump. They needed no further encouragement as they all flung themselves into the passing ship while the man, who was obviously the father, tossed a tiny baby into welcoming arms amongst the crew. The he himself leapt desperately across the widening gap and slammed his shins against the rail as more hands seized him and dragged him howling with pain to safety.
Despite his agony the gratitude shone like a beacon in his eyes while his wife and children fell to praying to their god for salvation. The Tipperrarian pilot gently tapped the wife’s shoulder while others attended the farmer’s bleeding shins.
“It’s her you should be thanking; not God!”
The woman immediately looked up beseechingly and flung her arms around Drustina’s knees. An embarrassed Lioness tried to extricate her legs from the woman’s frantic embrace and she cursed as she turned to look aft. It was touch and go whether she could get ahead and across the lead Viking ships who were fortunately embroiled in another group of tidal overfalls further south of the Island. Quickly she conferred with the Tipperrarian pilot who explained the best track to avoid the worst of the ebbing tide.
“Thanks, now can you get this stupid woman off my legs. I can hardly steer at these speeds if I cannot spread my feet to plant them!”
The desperately grateful mother was persuaded to release her embrace and Drustina immediately braced her legs as she and one of her companions lay hard upon the tiller. She sighed with relief as her faithful ship responded as always and span around so sharply that the new passengers lost their balances and tumbled towards the low side. The Angry Mermaid lurched uncharacteristically and Drustina swore at the newcomers.
“Sit down you stupid bastards, if you live on an island you should at least know how to keep steady in a ship.”
Shocked expressions turned to look disbelievingly at the very same woman who had, just a moment earlier, saved them. Drustina’s fear showed raw and unbridled in her glare.
“Damn you, if the Vikings catch us, you’d better be prepared to fight. Look you fools, did I save a family of idiots just to have the damned Viking ensnare us!!?”
Tense with real concerns, Drustina even snapped at her well proven and well co-ordinated crew.
“Dammit! Can you not get that bloody sheet tighter. We need all the speed we can muster!”
Her tension spread like a cancer through the crew and the silence became oppressive as everybody’s eyes turned to measure the approach of the Vikings.
She turned to her second and ordered him to make fire for arrows.
“It might slow them down and they won’t be expecting it. Get the Greek stone ready.”
Her second-in-command quickly produced the little waxed leather pouch that kept the flint, marcasite pyrites and fine mixed tinder completely dry. Drustina was not even watching him make the flame as she concentrated on keeping her course and measuring the approach angle of the leading longships. The Tipperrarian pilot however was watching fascinated as the second in command gently struck the pyrites with a slowish downward stroke that produced a long-lasting dull red spark. To his amazement the sparks fell into the tinder and after the third stroke the lieutenant’s gentle breath brought forth smoke quickly followed by flame. The pilot turned to Drustina.
“My God that is amazing. What magic is that stone?”
“We call it Greek stone though that stone came from Polanda.”
“Does King Dal know of it?”
Drustina grinned as she replied with her well used answer.
“I don’t know; you’ll have to ask him!”
By now the crew were preparing the first salvo of arrows and the lieutenant had been given the nod to use Drustina’s personal bow. He knew it was a sign that she had genuine concerns about escaping the Viking pursuers. Showing due reverence for the oft discussed weapon, he nocked the bow, dipped the arrow in the fire pot and Drustina steadied the Mermaid as best she could. The lieutenant chose his own moment and then shouted to the men.
“Now!”
A score of fire arrows flew straight and true into the leading vessel and Drustina squealed with delight as she watched the lieutenant’s arrow thud into the steersman’s leg while another man’s slammed into the steering oar.
“Brilliant shooting!” Look at the mayhem you’ve caused.
The steersman had momentarily lost his grip on the steering oar and it had slipped out of its notch to flop around with the steering end out of immediate reach. Only the safety line saved it from being totally lost and for long seconds several Vikings cursed and struggled to recover control.
In the stern the original steersman thrashed about with a burning arrow in his thigh while cursing and bellowing in pain as men attempted to extinguish the flame. Puzzled that the Vikings had so much trouble extinguishing the flaming arrow, Tipperrarian pilot asked about the fuel.
“What is it that burns so well and can’t be extinguished?”
Drustina looked thoughtfully at the pot of burning oil and watched her men preparing the next salvo of fire arrows. Absent-mindedly she answered the Tipperrarian.
“It’s Babylonian oil. We’ve only got one amphora left. I was hoping to save it for another day but needs must.”
He tapped her on the shoulder to attract her attention back to the Viking fleet.
“Well it seems those needs are over for the moment. Look at the chaos amongst that lot.”
Drustina looked up to see the leading Viking longship go careering across the path of the next two ships as the fire arrows caused pandemonium amongst the rowers. The swift orderly progress momentarily degenerated into a shambolic tangle as ships were forced to stop or turn away from the three entangled front runners. Drustina only had a moment to assess the situation before telling her warriors to aim for the furthermost outer ship that was still spearheading the approach.
‘If we can force that one to divert’ she thought, ‘we might upset the whole approach because there are only four columns and five ranks of ships.
She turned to the Tipperrarian pilot.
“There were twenty three ships. Two were knocked back earlier, where’s the other one?”
“Could that be it, just coming around the northern tip of the Island.”
Drustina turned briefly from watching her course and smiled partly with relief and partly with a smug sense of satisfaction. By her count, they would be free and running if they could slow down the outermost remaining lead ship that was steering a perfect course to intercept them. She didn’t have to tell her lieutenant what to aim at, the risks where frighteningly obvious.
‘Oh for the trebuchet now!’ She mused as her knuckles turned white as she gripped the tiller.
As she continued pressing hard against the tiller she watched her companions unleash the next flight of fire arrows but now the attackers were anticipating it. Shields went up as one as the Vikings formed a turtle and the arrows simply embedded themselves mostly into the upturned shields. Yes, the shields burned but only slowly and the Viking ship would be in range with their own arrows in minutes. As they prepared the next flight of flaming arrows her lieutenant gave her a searching look.
“What shall we aim for?”
“Wait a few moments, the flatter the trajectory of our arrows, the better the chance of hitting something hiding under a shield.
They have to be able to see out and the shields are hampering their rowing. Look; they have slowed down considerably.”
Even as she said this, she felt some small relief surge through her body. The problem was that when they did come within arrow range, the Vikings would be able to unleash a hail of up to a hundred arrows. She warned her men to be ready to dive for cover under their shields after they had discharged their third and necessarily last salvo of fire arrows. There would be little chance of firing a fourth because it the Vikings had trained properly, they’d be able to pin them down by firing repeated half salvoes still twice the number of the Mermaid’s crew; and shooting every time the Celts showed their faces from under their shields. Drustina’s belly sagged with uncertainty as she calculated the depreciating odds. She pressed harder on the tiller and stared at the rigging that almost hummed with tension. If it got any tighter, the bloody sheets would part and there lay disaster.
“Come my baby, come on! Don’t fail me now! Udris, Udris! Where are you now when I most need you!?”
The Tipperrarian pilot watched with growing uncertainty until he could bear it no more.
“Is there nothing I can do? You are on a perfectly safe course if you hold her steady!”
Drustina studied him for a moment trying to assess the man’s courage under fire. So far he had remained steadfast but she asked herself, ‘would it last when the Viking arrows started pouring in?’
Even as this thought tormented her, she saw a Viking arrow splash into the water not twenty yards distance. She decided to take a chance on the Tipperrarian’s courage as she called to her lieutenant.
“Fire now comrade, fire as flat as you dare and try to get under the shields. Look how they hold them above their heads; they still expect the arrows to come raining down from the sky.”
Then she turned to her pilot as the fire arrows left the bows.
“Now Pilot, take the Helm and steer as straight a course as you think safe past that headland. My men will form a turtle around you even as I take up my bow.”
She motioned to her lieutenant to return her bow then nodded towards the pilot.
“Cover him with shields and get ready to cover me as well. I’m going to try and unsettle their helmsman. Have the men take cover to protect themselves, the pilot and me. Oh and close the fire pot to extinguish the flame.”
She had barely given the order when they heard the first salvo of arrows whistling in. Everybody jumped to their allotted places but even so, a couple of men got arrows in their legs and arms as they strived to also cover the rescued family. There were not really enough shields to go around and Drustina had to duck behind the rail as she chose her arrow carefully from the preselected cluster she had gathered when they first learned of the stockpiles that King Dal kept scattered at various essential but secret locations in anticipation of just such a Viking attack. She crouched down fearfully as the Viking salvo whistled inboard and thudded terrifyingly into whatever they happened to strike. Then as she nocked her arrow, she nodded to her guardians and they raised their shields above the rail. Almost invisible to the Viking commander, Drustina peered from between the shields and slowly took aim as she commanded the Tipperrarian Pilot to hold the Mermaids as steadily as he could.. One of her guardsmen noticed she was not shooting a fire arrow. She explained.
“I’m trying for an accurate shot at the Helmsman. He has to keep looking at our ship to make sure he’s maintaining the best approach. Thus his face is exposed to constantly assess his approach. If he misses us on the first pass he’ll not catch us on the second. We’ll be passed and clear. So if I can juu-uust get an arrow into his exposed face, there’s hope for us yet.
“Good luck Lioness!” The Tipperrarian pilot shouted as he only had to look ahead with the shields protecting him from side and rear.
“Luck’s not in it Hibernian,” Drustina murmured inaudibly to all but her two guardsmen, “This shot is down to many hours of practice. Steady nowww, wait for the roll aaaand now!”
Her fingers hardly moved as the bowstring sang and the arrow left with a deadly hiss. The guardsmen closed their shields immediately so that the Vikings would have little idea where the arrow sprang from and Drustina swiftly nocked another arrow whilst crouching down behind the rail. After waiting hopefully, Drustina could only conclude that the lack of any scream or bellow meant she had missed her mark. She gently prised the shields apart a couple of inches, just enough to sight her target again. When she looked she saw her arrow had embedded itself in the stern post directly behind the Viking helmsman and she deduced that she had only missed him by inches.
‘Could she risk another shot?’ She wondered.
By now the longship was but a hundred yards away and closing quickly. It would have to be a quick shot. She nodded to her protectors and they opened the wedge of space between the shields fractionally more as Drustina rested her fingers on the rail to steady her hand as she drew back her bow. Now her target was closer and bigger, so much so she could see his expression of greed for victory as the longship swept on.
The moment came and she almost missed her chance as the mermaid rose on the wave and gave her a clear shot at his head. She loosed her arrow feverishly and this time risked her life by watching it’s flight. She heard the sickening ‘shtuuck’ as the bodkin point sliced between the links of his helmet strap and pierced his cheekbone. He let out a scream and slumped against his steering oar causing the longship to veer towards the Mermaid. There was a curse from the commander as he realised the helmsman had turned too early and was taking a path that would pass under the Mermaid’s stern.
“You stupid bastard! You’ve turned too early. Can’t you see she's faster than us!!!?”
Another voice replied.
“Rolf’s dead chief. He’s got a bloody arrow through his face.”
“Well get him off the oar you fools!”
This was music to Drustina’s ears for the Viking ship was now only fifty yards away but already abaft the Mermaid’s beam. Drustina had one last chance to hit the man who tried to remove ‘Rolf’ from his steering oar. She risked all and took it. Her arrow struck the man through his back plate and ripped into his shoulder. The man cursed and slumped against the steering oar thus preventing any hope of a swift correction to the longships course. Even as Drustina slipped down below the rail a hail of arrows poured into the planking and the shields of her two companions. They grunted as the sheer weight of thudding arrows almost dragged the shields from their grip but Drustina simply grinned and invited them to duck down close to her behind the rail. The rain of arrows continued thudding into the woodwork but the race was won. The mermaid soon put open water between her and the Viking fleet as she raced for Tarbert and Glin. Once out of range Drustina was free to look back and consider the fate of the monks on Scattery Island.
After realising they would never catch their quarry, the Vikings turned their attentions to the promise of gold and silver in the helpless monastery that sat unguarded on the Island of Scattery.
Drustina grinned as she considered the folly of their greed.
As they wasted more time plundering the monastery. They gave King Dal more time to prepare his defences.
~~oo000oo~~
Hereinunder is a Wikipedia article about the effectiveness of using Pyrites with flint to make a spark and start a fire.
Battle plans rarely survive first contact unless scope for a swift and orderly withdrawal is factored in at first instance. Drustina's initial plans do exactly that. First she must try and measure the enemy's capacity and quality on sea and if possible, on land. She has not the resources to tempt the Vikings to land troops ashore early so she cannot fully determine what she must face in the final analysis.
The Angry Mermaid 101 or Y Morforwyn Dicllon 101
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
A Trebuchet.
As The Angry Mermaid raced towards the tiny settlement of Glyn, her commander lay curled up tight in the bend of the spare sail where it lay stored up in the bow. Despite the pounding as the hull raced across the waves and slammed into the short steep wavelets, the woman in battle jerkin and leather leggings slept well. It might only be for a couple of hours but it was a sleep she desperately needed. The rest of her crew either grabbed some well deserved sleep or tended quietly to their weapons while the second in command steered for the headland indicated by the Tipperrarian pilot.
Only the rescued family had nothing to do but count their luck as they settled with no small relief at the stern and talked quietly about the strange band of warriors who had rescued them. What intrigued them more was the nature of the warrior woman who slept under the cuddy in the bow. Inevitably they fell to asking the lieutenant about her.
“Is she really your commander?”
The lieutenant nodded as he stared fixedly at the headland and tried to listen to the pilot as he gave vital advice. The middle child however, a girl of some ten years, was not to be deterred by the lieutenant’s reticence. She asked again.
“Is she a queen then?”
The lieutenant smiled at her for an instant as he replied.
“Yes, she’s a very famous one and a very brave one.”
“What’s her name?”
The Tipperarian pilot interrupted as he sensed the Lieutenant struggling to keep his concentration.
“Do not distract the helm’s-man young lady; the warrior queen is called ‘The Lioness of Carthage,’."
He then turned to the helm’s-man and added...
“When that single pine-tree comes in line with the headland, wait until it starts to open then steer for that white quartz fissure until we pass the red-stone bluff. Eventually you will see the inlet open. It looks nothing more than a small break in the trees but you have to turn very sharply to stay in the navigable channel.” The estuary looks wide but the actual channel is little more than a gully. The tide has turned in the couple of hours so we will enter on the flood and we will have to depart before high water, the whole area dries out before low water next tide.
The lieutenant nodded and adjusted the tiller as he checked his wake to compare the course of Udris’s ship astern. He nodded with satisfaction as he watched Udris’s helmsman following to the inch in order to avoid the shallows and sandbank. The pilot also looked back and smiled appreciatively; the quality of ship-handling had been impeccable on both ships throughout the day. He intended to compliment the Lioness when she woke. That moment would be soon. Few captains left the docking of their ship to their second-in-command unless it was a regular and frequent procedure. This was the first time Drustina and The Angry Mermaid had approached Glyn.
When the time to wake Drustina arrived, the pilot sent the ten-year-old girl to do it. She seemed to be a lively and alert child, much more inquisitive than her siblings. The rest of the rescued family were huddled together just thankful to be alive. Pleased to have given what to her was a big responsibility, the girl skipped nimbly over the recumbent crewmen and over the thwarts towards the bow where she savoured the duty of waking the queen. She gently shook Drustina who stirred and looked at the girl.
“What is it child?”
“The tall man by the tiller says it is time to wake you.”
Drustina glanced towards the pilot who signalled that they were entering the very narrow channel into Glyn. Drustina squinted at the girl.
“Thank you, now turn away. I want to wee.”
The girl made a pretence of turning away as Drustina pulled down the front of her leggings and directed her urine over the side. On hearing the splash, the girl could not resist turning to look and her eyes widened with surprise. Being young she failed to be tactful and squeaked out.
“You wee like a boy!”
Drustina wagged her head and glanced over her shoulder with a resignation born of many such remarks during her life.
“Yes, young lady, I have both parts; now turn away please.”
The girl being precocious and intelligent was not to be put off however. She was neither censorious nor offended as she continued.
“I was told you were a queen but you have boy parts.”
Had the girl not accompanied this with a tone of genuine curiosity Drustina might have become irritated but she recognised the girl’s genuine and somewhat innocent interest. As she tucked her penis back into her leggings she smiled then explained.
“Young lady, I will explain just this once then I want to hear no more about it. I have both girl and boy parts and have been both mother and father to different children. Today I used my boy part because it was convenient to wee quickly. Now I need to go aft to attend to our arrival. You can fetch my sword from the cuddy and bring it to me at the stern.”
So saying, Drustina stepped easily over her sleeping crewmen and the girl eagerly followed whilst carrying the prized sword. The Tipperrarian pilot grinned as he watched the ecstatic expression of pride on the girl’s face. Drustina grinned as she joined him at the stern.
“You’ve made a little girl very happy Lioness.”
Drustina grinned as she studied the Mermaid’s tricky approach then received her sword off the girl without taking her eyes off the navigation marks. She left the steering to her lieutenant however, for it would have been unsound to take the helm at such a complex juncture with all the attendant needs for the pilot to repeat the instructions. Instead she tousled her hand through the little girl’s long red tresses then hugged the child’s shoulders to her hip before fastening her sword and scabbard down her back. The girl was ecstatic with pride as Drustina whispered to her explaining why the pilot was advising the lieutenant and not the captain.
Having fulfilled any maternalistic obligations to the little girl, Drustina turned to the more serious matter, namely entering the shallow creek at the foot of Dorvan’s fortifications. Soon the anticipated gap in the trees revealed itself and Drustina saw Dorvan’s camp on the bank. In short order, both ships were alongside but they had only a few hours over the high water. Quickly they shared information and discussed tactics.
“So how many men have joined your banner?” Drustina asked the Prince.
“We have about three hundred. If all the pledges given to my father are fulfilled; he should have about a thousand men by tonight and about one and a half thousand by tomorrow noon. That’s about one thousand eight hundred. How many Vikings did you count?”
“Udris and I each estimated about two-and-a-half to possibly three thousand. We based this on something over one hundred men to each longship and we counted twenty three longships.”
“So we are outnumbered perhaps three to two.” Dorvan frowned thoughtfully.
“You are forgetting the men on the north shore,” Drustina tried to reassure the prince, “when we left, Carl and Heliox had about five hundred assembled.”
“And how do we get them to the scene of battle?” Dorvan demanded.
Drustina squinted at the young prince as she considered his question. It seemed the prince had somewhat limited and conservative ideas of organising a campaign. She set about carefully ‘adjusting’ the young man’s ideas.
“Uuuhm, who said there is going to be a battle?”
Dorvan stiffened with incomprehension.
“Of course there will be a battle; how are we to drive them off?”
Drustina started first by asking the prince some searching questions.
“Have you ever fought a battle with any Vikings ... and won?”
Dorvan hesitated at the last part of her question.
“Well ... well no, not really. Last time they attacked they almost reached Limerick but there were insufficient of them to overwhelm the town’s defences. There were only four ships. This time you’ve said it yourself, there are twenty three ships; they obviously intend to give us a beating.”
“But this time your highness, they do not have the element of surprise. Your father had the wit to organise a very good signal system.”
Dorvan smiled ruefully. He had personally thought his father was being over cautious but the system of watch towers and signal fires had proven their worth. The Vikings had not even landed and already, the Connacht clans had gathered a substantial force. Dorvan only wished they had more time for if the clans had received more warning, they could have mustered up to five thousand warriors within a week. He had seen how well the Vikings were armed after the attack on Limerick. Nearly all the attackers had chain mail and some of the leaders even had plate mail. He did not relish meeting such powerful and well protected adversaries. Secretly, Dorvan was prepared to die. To this extent he was slightly bemused that the warrior queen seemed a lot less concerned than he.
Drustina sensed his sense of resignation but she persevered with the education as she questioned him some more.
“Do you expect to have to confront these Viking face to face then?”
“How else?”
“What about ambushing them then running away? What about setting traps for them then pouncing on them and once again, running away?
What about harrying them as they make their way towards Limerick?”
“We only have a few ships, altogether about fifteen I think. My father is still fitting other ships out for war but they are slow and clumsy.”
“How many horsemen do you have?” Drustina asked him.
Dorvan hesitated. The Hibernian horses were small and light but fast moving horses, more resembling a large pony then a full sized horse. They could not carry a fully armoured man. Even he and his father did not own a large heavy horse to smash into the Viking Shield walls. He frowned uncertainly.
“Why d’you ask?”
“I ask because I saw no horses aboard any of the Viking long-ships.”
“So? If they are going to smash their way right up the river with their ships, they won’t need horses will they?”
“Come with me.” Drustina replied.
Dorvan was mildly surprised to be told to do something without any of the courtesies like ‘please’ or ‘if-your-highness-would-be-so-kind’ or any other indication of respect or rank. The warrior queen had simply told him almost as if she were a pedagogue and he the acolyte. Her manner intrigued him and he followed her to the quay where Udris was supervising the attachment of a long pole to a strange wooden contraption. Drustina asked about progress and Udris paused from drilling a hole to make a spindle for the pole and the swing weight.
“How’s progress, commander?” She asked the Dumnonii chief.
“Give me another half an hour. This is an ash pole, it’s lighter but stronger than pine. It’s best I can find for now but the wood is sound and being green makes it flexible.”
Drustina nodded and turned to Dorvan.
“D’you recognise that device?”
Dorvan certainly recognised the rope and strong leather bag.
“It looks like some sort of sling.”
“That’s exactly what it is and if you’ll humour me until Udris finishes his work, I’ll demonstrate its effectiveness. That new and longer pole should be even more effective than the one we broke when fighting the long-ships this morning.”
“What!” Dorvan expostulated. “You’ve already met with them?”
“Yes but we were not very successful. The sling arm broke because the long pole we cannibalised from a wrecked longship was tired and rotten. That new pole should do a much better job. Ash is the best wood because it is straightest and lightest wood for a Trebuchet. It can take a lot of shock without splitting or breaking; that’s why you use it for the handles of your axes, hammers and shafts for your carts. The same goes for Trebuchet arms.”
“Is that what you call that contraption?”
“Yes. I’ve seen big ones hurl substantial rocks as big as a man’s head for up to five hundred yards.”
“How far will that thing go?”
“I don’t know. We certainly hurled a rock big enough to smash through planking and I’m guessing that was about one hundred and fifty yards. I don’t know if that ship sank because we had to skedaddle when the arm broke with the next shot. I reckon with this newer, longer, lighter arm it should go hopefully about three hundred yards. This trebuchet is a very small one.”
Dorvan was so intrigued; he decided to watch the arm being repaired so Drustina joined Udris on the afterdeck to help speed up the repair. The job was soon completed and the Mermaid was moored with extra ropes to stabilise her against the quay. The longer arm would create a far more violent motion and there was no knowing whether the ship would remain stable. Unfortunately, the longer arm necessitated shorter sling ropes otherwise the sling would have snagged the rigging. Drustina explained.
“I hope to set this up on the bluff overlooking Foynes Island. It would command a large slice of the south channel and some of the north passage. It will force the Vikings to travel up the North side of the channel and I hope to get a message to Carl to muster as many men on the north shore with fire arrows.”
As she said this, Udris stood back from the engine and declared it ready. Drustina loaded the engine and invited everybody to step back as she explained.
“I don’t know how safe it is with this longer arm, so you’d all best stand back.”
Drustina’s companions pulled well back for they had seen the ramshackle mechanism only that very morning. Nobody wanted to be near if the thing failed. Dorvan however knew little better so he stood close to Drustina as she prepared to release the charge of stones with one larger boulder. She warned Dorvan.
“If this thing goes wrong, there’s no knowing where these stones will end up!”
“Well wherever I stand then, I could end up being hit.”
Drustina smiled philosophically and shrugged.
“I suppose you’re right. Just watch the stones and stand behind me.”
As he stood peering over her shoulder Drustina released the trigger catch and the trebuchet swung violently as the arm whipped up and the sling whistled evilly. There was a slap as the release hook of the sling operated at the optimum point of rotation and the machine released the stones perfectly. For a moment Dorvan lost sight of the stones as they flew away with the trees as a background and he began wondering just where the stones had gone. Drustina’s more practiced eye continued following them and she tapped Dorvan’s shoulder as she pointed to the water across the inlet just as the splashes revealed the fall of shot.
“’Bout four or five hundred yards your highness, enough to sink a few Viking ships before they realise they can squeeze past out of range on the north side of the channel.”
Dorvan was dumb-founded and he stared stupidly for at least a couple of seconds before releasing a piercing yell of elation.
“My God woman! That’s incredible. Can we not make more like that?”
“Depends how long we’ve got. The last I knew was that the Vikings were attacking the round tower belonging to the abbey on Scattery Island. I don’t know how long they’ll be there.”
“Well the sooner we start the better. There’s plenty of timber at Foynes, does the timber have to be faired and squared?”
Drustina sucked her cheek thoughtfully. The only ones she had ever seen had been well fashioned and properly tooled. She supposed that, providing the joints and swivel pins were true and stout, the timber need not necessarily be faired and squared. Of one thing she was certain though. Only she, Udris, Carl and Heliox had the knowledge to build them at that juncture for they had worked with them on previous occasions. Her reply to Dorvan was cautious.
“If you have plenty of carpenters I think we might build one big enough to span half the North Channel at Foynes. As I said, it depends how greedy the Vikings are looking for treasures at Scattery Abbey.”
“Then let’s be about your business Lioness. We shall make all haste for Foynes.”
“I must get a message to my other lieutenants. They are currently mustering on the north shore at Killimer. I will need my ships to ferry the foot soldiers up to Foynes. The mounted men will have to ride like the wind.”
Dorvan grasped the plan and the need for urgency; he wasted no time barking out orders to his men while Drustina and Udris were already departing. Udris for Killimer with the message to Carl while she carried the trebuchet on The Angry Mermaid up to Foynes. Once they had landed the trebuchet on the south bluff at Foynes Drustina immediately crossed to the north shore and set about constructing a larger trebuchet while her lieutenant dashed back down channel to collect more of Carl’s men. Throughout the afternoon and long summer evening the mermaid class ships made repeated voyages to collect as many Kerry and Clare men to concentrate at or around the town of Foynes. As the light was failing, Drustina was overjoyed to see Heliox arrive at the north shore with a large squadron of mounted Hibernians. It remained only to post lots of lookouts and patrols to ensure the Vikings did not try to sneak up the channel during the night.
Drustina had good reason to be thankful for the resources available in the town of Foynes and within hours; after much ferrying of wood and other materials to and fro across the channel, she and Carl had assembled a crude working trebuchet on the north shore. Because of its size, it had substantially more range than Drustina’s smaller one and it left a very narrow strip of channel right out in the middle that was out of range of either of the weapons. Drustina wondered whether Dorvan’s carpenters would be prepared to continue working through the night to build a third weapon and place it on the westernmost tip of Foynes Island itself. She was heartened and gratified by their response. Having seen the effect of the North Shore trebuchet, they were enthusiastic and built a smaller one so as to make it easier to traverse and cover a greater arc. After leaving the building to the Carpenters, she and her warriors sought some well earned sleep. The morrow promised to be an auspicious day and a fearful one.
~~oo000oo~~
Author’s note. (That sound's posh dun'nit!)
Trebuchets.
Anybody interested in the effectiveness of trebuchets might do well to type ‘war-wolf’ or ‘trebuchet’ into Google.
Although the huge, sophisticated siege versions took days (and in some cases, weeks) to build. A crude but effective battle-field trebuchet could be fashioned within a day. Drustina and Carl were intimately familiar with trebuchets and past masters (or mistress) at knocking a workable weapon together almost overnight. Accuracy and predetermined ranging were not vitally important when firing at moving targets like ships. It was more important to get a wide spread of shot as opposed to one singularly heavy and destructive boulder. A boulder of some 20 Kg (45lbs) could easily plunge down and smash through a Viking longship’s planking after having been flung perhaps 300 or 400 metres.
Below is the Wikipedia site for trebuchets.
The first ambush of the Viking invasion fleet proves moderately successful because the Vikings were anticipating the trebuchet. They were not expecting three trebuchets.
Here are the pertinent charts.
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1548.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1540.htm
Having managed to inflict modest damage to the invasion fleet. The defenders abandon and burn their static trebuchets while Drustina endeavours to transport her smaller mobile trebuchet along the southern shores of the Shannon estuary to assist King Dal O'Dalgliesh in the final defence of his city and castle at Limerick.
Askeaton Castle where Drustina's recovery of the abbey proved successful.
Thanks to Belfastcity for advice and historical information.
The abbey on the island at Askea.
Chart showing Askeaton. (Askea)
The Angry Mermaid 102
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 102.
Drustina shivered in her blanket and pulled it tighter around her as the pre-dawn chill from the ground began to cool her bones. She stirred and reached out automatically to hug the warm bulk of her partner only to remember that he was encamped on the north shore with Heliox the Gaul. Then she remembered that Udris was camped on Foynes Island and she finally remembered that Dorvan’s carpenters assisted by some of his father’s men had volunteered to work all night making a third trebuchet. She reluctantly crawled from her makeshift bed and stared across the Shannon to both Foynes Island and the north shore. She was pleased to note that something resembling a trebuchet was tucked in amongst the trees and all but invisible from the river. Udris would simply fire over the treetops.
‘Udris has been wise,’ she told herself; ‘he would get off several shots before the Vikings would realise there was a third trebuchet firing upon them.’
Carl had obviously placed his weapon on the exposed promontory to get maximum effect and be plainly visible to all who sailed up the north side of the channel. Drustina had also done the same with her smaller, more portable war engine. However, the Vikings on seeing her trebuchet would soon realise that the mid channel was out of her range from the South shore and they would think, initially, that they were safe if they stayed in mid stream.
Drustina smiled as she watched Udris testing the third weapon and grinned even further when he spotted her and waved. Without any means of signalling accurately, he had his men swing the weapon around so that he could demonstrate its flexibility. His trebuchet could cover a wide ark encompassing the whole of the middle channel and the south channel that led to Foynes town. Drustina clenched her fists together over her head to demonstrate her satisfaction; the Vikings would have a dreadful gauntlet to run if they expected to make their way up-channel unhindered.
Finally, she had her own men practice limbering and un-limbering the small trebuchet and getting the team of horses used to hauling the mobile weapon up and down the beach road that led to Foynes. After a dozen or more practice runs, she had her men prepare as much of the road as possible all the way to Foynes and beyond. Her idea was to use her portable weapon to harry the Viking fleet in a progressively more effective manner as the channel became narrower and narrower until the estuary became the River Shannon proper some distance above the southern tributary River Maigue.
As her men were labouring away at the crude track that led from Poulnillin Point to Foynes town, Dorvan appeared with all his men at his back. By now he had some three hundred mounted horsemen and a hundred foot-soldiers. Drustina’s eyes widened appreciatively. The horsemen would be ideal for harrying and monitoring the Viking progress from the South shore while the extra hundred foot soldiers would be ideal to improve the road all the way to Askea.
“Why to Askea,” Dorvan asked.
“I’m told the road from there to Limerick is well paved.” Drustina replied.
Dorvan smiled.
“Did you not travel it when you met my father?”
“No, we sailed up if you remember.”
“Well then let me tell you, it’s a bit better than this track but it is not paved Lioness. Very few Hibernian roads are. We never had the Romans on our island.”
“Huh. More’s the pity.” Drustina sighed. “But I’m told the River Deel can be easily forded there and I’m hoping to haul this weapon along the South shore until we reach the narrow River Shannon above the River Maigue.”
“Huh, it’s a good job there has been no rain and the roads are dry. If it rains, the roads are turned to mud.”
Drustina grinned.
“You think I don’t know that? I come from Cambria Dorvan; we are as familiar with rain as you are. Now, once we have to evacuate this site, I’m hoping your men can escort me and the trebuchet to the River Maigue and we can relocate on the south bank.”
“And how will you cross the river Maigue?”
“Are there no bridges, it’s only a few miles from Limerick. I’m also hoping your father will have at least come down the river a part of the way, if only to see the situation. Can’t one of his older ships be sacrificed to ferry the weapon across?”
“Somebody will have to ride to Limerick and tell him.”
“That somebody had better be one of your more reliable lieutenants and he’d better go now.”
Drustina cursed silently, it seemed she had to think of every little detail herself. As she considered her options Dorvan wondered.
“Are you saying you are not going to face them?”
“No, they are too well armed and to well protected with their chain mail. Your horsemen are fast and have no armour so our best tactic is to harry them and ambush them all the way up to Limerick. We simply do not have the resources to face them blow for blow just yet. These butchers are fully prepared for war!”
“But we will have to face them eventually,” Dorvan persisted.
“Not until we have reduced their numbers ... and their ships. I hope to do that by a process of attrition. Come, while your men eat before the battle, I’ll explain.”
Dorvan was intrigued but remembered his father’s words. ‘Listen to the Lioness my son; she will teach you cunning and tactics.’
As they ate an oatmeal breakfast followed by bacon and beer, Drustina laid out her plan.
“It’s essentially simple Dorvan. Carl and Heliox will shadow and harass the Vikings on the north shore whilst possibly enticing a few of their fleet to pursue them into the islands of the Inishmore archipelago. Hopefully they might be able to goad them into running aground. Simultaneously the Hibernian horsemen will try to disable some of the ships if they do pursue Carl and Udris into that maze of waterways and islands. The mermaid ships should be able to escape via the shallow channels and by that time, we hope the main fleet will have passed above them on their way up-channel to Limerick.
For our part, Udris will take both our mermaids up-channel ahead of the Vikings and meet with your Dad’s ships just above the junction between the Shannon and the river Maigue. They plan to make a stand there and I am planning to get there overland before the Viking ships and set up the trebuchet to pound the Vikings as they collide with King Dal’s ships. You father has agreed to string his ships across the channel and when the Viking ships arrive, they will be confronted with a barrier of ships lashed together to form a chain of hulls right across the river. At that juncture, this portable trebuchet should be able to wreak havoc amongst the Vikings when they pile up against the barrier. By then Carl and Heliox should be behind them and we will have them boxed in to a small degree. Carl and Heliox won’t be able to face the Vikings head on but the longer we can delay them and keep them penned in, the more shots I can launch with my trebuchet.
If we can reduce the Viking ships by only five or ten, we can improve our chances of survival by a huge margin.”
“It sounds risky to me. Carl and Heliox will be exposed to great danger.”
“So will Udris and I when the Vikings realise we have a trebuchet on Rhinekirk point where the Maigue empties into the Shannon. If we can cross the Maigue as well as the Deel, we might be able to block the Viking ships effectively at the Muckinish point or above it where the river is really narrow and my trebuchet can cover the whole width of the river. Wherever I eventually set it up it’s going to take a lot of support from your cavalry. The trebuchet is quite heavy despite being small and it will take rotating teams of horses to pull it.”
“What you mean harness our horses to that contraption?”
“You have three hundred horses for God’s sake! I’ll only want about six teams of ten.”
Dorvan was forced to concede the logistics so he agreed. It had become blindingly obvious even to Dorvan that her tactic to engage the Vikings on the water was preferable to hand-to-hand fighting. The lightly armed Hibernians had to muster sufficient strength to face them on the field. Finally convinced of her plan, he nodded and even exceeded Drustina’s request to help prepare the road. Two hundred mounted warriors dismounted and joined the ‘road-builders’ by clearing any potential obstructions that lay on the road between Foynes and Askea. They worked with their horses beside them to be ready at a moment’s notice to fight wherever they were needed.
At noon Drustina’s signal horn sounded sonorously to warn of the Viking approach. Its deep mournful note reverberated between the hills and quickly alerted all of the defenders.
Several riders arrived to inform Drustina and Dorvan that there were twenty two ships approaching. Drustina hoped that the twenty third had been too damaged to continue the campaign. The Vikings appeared to the west and had spread out to avoid getting bunched. They had now realised that gathering the ships together offered a better target to the trebuchet that they had grown to respect the dreadful engine if not fear it. However, as the channel narrowed at Foynes Island they were forced to bunch together or approach Foynes Island in ‘dribs and drabs’ thus negating the effect of a singularly mighty killer blow.
Knowing the capacity and accuracy of her three trebuchets, Drustina would have chosen to bunch together and simply forced her way through whilst accepting the sacrifices and losses. By rowing hard, the Vikings would then have only been exposed to the combined salvoes for perhaps half an hour then they would have been through and clear.
The Viking commander however, was not party to the location or strength of Drustina’s defence and he chose instead to ‘test’ her fire power first. Seeing this, Drustina signalled to Udris to hold his fire while she and Carl struggled to hit the lonesome pair as they stuck to mid channel. One longship suffered minor damage to hull and oars while the other got through with just a few injuries to her crew. They arrived on the other side of the defence line mistakenly feeling confident and then waited for the next pair of ships to try.
Drustina smiled as she signalled to Udris to join the fray when they approached. Her ploy was successful. The second pair adjudged it safe to pass close to the north of Foynes Island only to be totally destroyed by Udris’s sudden intervention. They were so close that he chose to use much heavier boulders and a single hit smashed the keel of the first ship. It simply broke in half before their eyes and a huge cheer went up from the defenders on all the banks. The second ship immediately rowed furiously towards the north shore only to meet a similar but less spectacular fate as Carl’s trebuchet made its claim. The fourth longship slowly settled into the deep waters and Carl watched with little sympathy as men frantically shed their armour and chain mail in order to try and swim for freedom. Carls mounted warriors quickly captured them and brought them to Carl for inquisition.
Drustina’s Saxon husband had long ago learned the lesson of gathering intelligence and while he admired the Viking’s refusal to divulge obvious facts and figures, his clever questioning of each individual prisoner soon told him a lot. His only problem now was getting that information to Drustina and King Dal. For the time however, he still had more Viking ships to contend with as this time the Viking commander had learned his lesson. The remaining eighteen ships decided to attack in full number and smash their way through the defence line.
This tactic proved successful but it cost them a further three ships totally sunk and three more badly damaged. The Viking fleet ended up with thirteen fully functioning ships above Foynes and four damaged hulls that would only hamper the attack. As soon as the Vikings had passed above the trebuchet line Carl and Udris had set fire to the engines to prevent them falling into Viking hands. Then each man had mounted his horse and galloped away to make their pre-arranged escapes.
Udris’s men were partly local men from the settlement of Foynes. They well knew the shallow parts of the south channel where they had pre-prepared a long rope hawser to help them cross the channel and join Drustina on the south shore. She met them as her forces were towing the portable trebuchet as quickly as the wheels would allow along the road to Askea.
On the north shore, Carl’s forces had either ridden away to ford the river Clare or boarded the two mermaids that they had hidden in a creek. With local men offering abundant local knowledge Carl and Heliox set about harassing the four damaged longships by slipping in and out of the islands. By then the bulk of the Viking fleet had raced up the river to continue the main attack and the four damaged ships took it upon themselves to chase Carl’s two mermaids amidst the maze of islands that filled the estuary of the River Clare. Their shortage of oars and damaged hulls made them slow and Carl was soon able to outmanoeuvre them and entice them to within arrow range of his hidden horsemen on the banks of the River Clare. The falling tide and shallow banks soon caused the Viking ships to be trapped in a ‘pocket’ of water and they were summarily dealt with as they were unable to escape from the deep pocket because the banks were too shallow all around them. The trapped Vikings had to remove their armour and try and swim ashore or suffer the constant hail of arrows raining down from Carl’s horsemen. By mid afternoon, the four damaged ships were nullified and the Clare warriors had over a hundred prisoners.
This time Carl had not the time to gather intelligence and he left the prisoners to the tender mercies of the Clare, north-bank warriors who had suffered many times at the hands of brutal Viking raids. Carl and Udris set sail up the Shannon to determine just how far the remainder of the invasion fleet had travelled. He also needed to meet with Drustina and swap information.
~o00o~
On the Southbank Drustina had reached the River Deel at Askea and she was relieved to find that the bridge was still intact. However a Viking ship had seen the River Deel estuary and decided to investigate it. One of the Viking crewmembers with previous knowledge, believed a church to be located on an island in mid stream at the point where the tidal influences finished. By Coincidence Drustina and Dorvan arrived just as the Vikings were disembarking and anticipating some rich pickings in the church. One hundred armed Vikings were wading up the river and were almost within reach of the church when the first elements of Dorvan’s horsemen appeared from the Foynes road. The first inkling of trouble for Dorvan was the sudden stampede of frightened Askean villagers running to escape the Viking menace. He halted his troop and demanded to know the situation at the town. After learning of the Viking occupancy he galloped back to Drustina who was attending the towage of the trebuchet but half a mile behind.
“It’s bad news Lioness! The Vikings have the ford where the river divides.”
Drustina cursed and demanded numbers.
“The villagers think one longship must have diverted from the main attack and come looking for richer pickings in the abbey. It seems all these pirates are interested in is loot and treasure.”
“If it’s only one longship, then they can hardly exceed one hundred men. You have at least two hundred men mounted in addition to your men helping out here. So where is this longship now, I don’t see it at the quay below the abbey bridge?”
“After they landed the men, the ship retreated back out into the River Shannon. A skeleton crew waits with the ship now to return later.”
“Well that’s not my concern then. Capturing this damned church is.”
“It’s not that easy Lioness. The abbey is set on a rocky islet in the middle of the river. The bed of the river is very rocky and it would be dangerous if not impossible to charge at the abbey walls. The monks fortified it well.”
“So how did the Vikings manage to overwhelm it?”
“I don’t know, surprise I must suppose; maybe the monks were not expecting them.”
Drustina cursed, not because of the loss of the abbey for she had little time for religion and valuable trinkets. She cursed because the Vikings had become an obstruction, a hindrance that necessitated removal. Fortunately she had the very weapon to deal with the impedance, namely the portable trebuchet. Angrily she urged the men to double their efforts by attaching a second team to the trebuchet. For the whole of the journey she had walked with her men alongside the trebuchet as the horses towed it along the track but now, with certain trouble up ahead, she had to ride to the town of Askea and ascertain the problem. Leaving Udris to redouble the towing effort, she raced ahead with Dorvan to where his horsemen were fidgeting with frustration as their arrows bounced harmlessly of the abbey walls.
“We could lay siege to the abbey.” Dorvan suggested.
“We haven’t time, I want to be up at the river Maigue before nightfall. I can’t leave your father to face those ships alone, he just doesn’t have the resources. The trebuchet is vital to our plan.”
“Will the trebuchet be able to strike the abbey?” Dorvan asked.
“If we can get close enough, yes. We will need to use bigger boulders than we did at Foynes Island if we are to strike the curtain wall somewhere between the chapel and the great tower. Where’s the best place to cross the river on horseback?”
Dorvan motioned to a local man who turned out to be a local fish warden. He pointed out the salient hazards then indicated a path that ran diagonally across the river just above the Island.
“There’s a ridge of coarse sand between those two rocky ridges and the water is only a couple of feet deep! It is quiet at the moment, as you see.”
“But it’s right under the battlement by the tower. Anybody crossing there would be a sitting duck!” Dorvan protested and Drustina was forced to agree.
There had to be a better approach but she could see nothing that might enable her to bypass the fortified abbey that acted as a guard house to the ford. Drustina cursed as she racked her brains for a plan.
The villagers who had scattered were now returning as they realised that upwards of three hundred men plus the trebuchet crew were now facing the Vikings now trapped in the abbey. As Drustina studied the river and the island another villager joined the fish warden. He was the local miller. Tentatively he approached the strange woman who wore a battle jerkin, leather leggings and a sword on her back.
“If I might be so bold your ... your ... your uuuuhhm —“
Drustina turned a little irritably at first but quickly softened her expression as she realised the miller was trying to suggest something. She recognised his flour powdered apron and hat and realised the man would know something about the river because she had seen no wind-mills and that meant his mill was probably powered by water; water from the River Deel. She smiled briefly and softened her tone.
“Yes master miller, what have you to tell?”
The man relaxed as he realised she had recognised his business by the flour that covered his clothes. Being a miller made him a man of consequence in the town. He lost his uncertainty and explained.
“The river is low your maj- your ... do I call you majesty?”
“Never mind titles for now master miller, what is this about the river.
“The river is low your majesty because we are filling the mill-pond ready to commence milling the harvest tomorrow. As you know it’s the end of the summer and the corn is being gathered even as we speak. I have shut the millrace and the bypass control sluices above the falls. This obstructs most of the river flow and the water gets backed up to fill the mill-pond. The pond will soon be full.”
“So?”
“Well ... your majesty, if we can somehow entice the Vikings into the river again, I can reopen the bypass sluices and send a torrent of water down to the island. Any man in the river will be knocked off his feet and swept downstream.”
Drustina stared hard at the miller and bade him show her the mill-pond. Dorvan lent the miller a horse and the three went to inspect the mill race sluices. When she saw the arrangements for controlling the river level and the leat that led to the millrace, Drustina and Dorvan could see exactly what the miller was saying. She looked at the huge expanse of pond and smiled at Dorvan as she congratulated the miller.
“Well done master miller, your plan shows enormous promise. All we need to do now, is somehow persuade those robbing bastards to evacuate the abbey.”
The miller shrugged abjectly.
“I cannot help you there ma-am.”
“You’ve done enough master miller. Wait here by your sluices and when you see a green smoking signal arrow, open all the sluices you deem best. I’ll send a couple of men to help you.”
As they galloped back to the abbey Dorvan asked Drustina.
“So how do we persuade these thieves to leave their comfortable billet?”
“It won’t be comfortable for long my Prince; believe me. Set your men with fire arrows ready to send a hail of fire wherever the wall is breached by the trebuchet.”
Having at last devised a plausible plan she turned again to the fish warden to ask...
“When the river is in spate Mr Warden, where is the water wildest?”
“On that side my lady where the large rock serves to narrow the channel. Now, the river is almost dry because the Master Miller is charging the mill-pond. That little gorge for now seems but a trickle. When the river is in its winter floods that passage is a maelstrom of death.”
Drustina nodded and smiled at Dorvan as he caught her drift.
“I think I see your plan Lioness; we strike the curtain wall between the end of the chapel and the corbel turret. Then we send fire arrows to set fire to the abbey church inside.”
She grinned and nodded. Her grin widened when she heard the commotion announcing the arrival of her trebuchet. Eagerly she called to her commander.
“Set it their Udris then have the men set about finding stones slightly bigger than a man’s head.”
The plan was obvious to Udris and he soon had the men in teams scouring the land for suitable stones. After a few practice, ranging shots the work of demolishing the curtain wall began in earnest. Soon great lumps of masonry were being smashed out of the wall and the whole of Dorvan’s cavalry watched in sober silence. It was an awe inspiring experience to watch the wall steadily diminishing before their very eyes until they could see right into the courtyard and the timber buildings within. As soon as they had sufficient view of the innermost secrets of the abbey compound the barrage of fire arrows commenced. With three hundred fire arrows arriving every few seconds, it wasn’t long before every timber building inside the curtain walls was blazing furiously. Once again Drustina had cause to thank the long hot dry summer that facilitated the towing of the trebuchet along un-muddied roads and also ensured the wooden buildings and thatched roves inside the abbey compound were tinder dry. As the flames leapt furiously into the sky the Vikings within quickly discovered that their supposed fort had become a lethal fire trap. Eventually they were forced to evacuate.
As they formed a turtle to burst out through the breach in the wall, Drustina prepared the signal arrow. Amidst all the other arrows it did not appear significant then as the Vikings charged out to cross the river and dash down the rocky gorge. Drustina realised her plan had been doubly successful for it was obvious the Vikings were successfully using the rocky sides of the gorge to protect themselves from the arrows. However by then the green signal arrow had been fired high into the sky towards the miller and his sluices. Within a minute the river as thundering down towards the island and quickly filling the gorge with the predicted raging maelstrom.
Packed as they were in the confines of the gorge, many of them drowned where they stood in their armour. Few escaped and those that did, fought and died as they struggled to escape the water by climbing the banks right into the hands of Dorvan’s men. Eventually only one giant of a man stood screaming defiance at the cursed Celts who had so unexpectedly proven to be masters of war.
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina gets involved in a war of attrition with the Viking invaders of Hibernia by plaing a game of 'Cat and Mouse' amidst the various islands and rivers that comprise the estuary of the river Shannon. She achieves a spectacular success at the little town of Askea where the island crossing and rocky gully proves to be a perfect place to set one of her cunning traps.
The Island at the town of Askeaton where the battle was fought. Though Drustina's fight predates the castle and the present abbey.
River Deel in full flood. A dangerous and treacherous river.
The Angry Mermaid 103
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 103
When Carl and Heliox returned to the main channel of the River Shannon there was no sign of the main Viking invasion fleet. Carl slowed down to speak to Heliox in the following mermaid.
“I suppose they’ve all gone up channel, I suppose we’d better do the same.”
“Well we’d best keep close to the south shore,” Heliox added, “we’ve no idea where Drustina and Udris are but if they’re close to the south bank we might just see them.”
They studied the south shore but it didn’t look very inviting. There were low-lying rocks that seemed to mark a narrow estuary but nothing of any significance seemed to point to the river having any importance. Indeed, the rocks looked rather dangerous to any navigator who lacked local knowledge and the only local men Carl had were the Clare men who only knew the north shore. There were no Kerry men handy to tell about the narrow winding channel and dangerous rocky outcrops. They were just about to set off up the channel when one of Heliox’s lookouts called out.
“Look there. A green signal arrow! What would it mean commander?”
Carl saw it just before it plunged back to earth and he cursed.
“Unless the Vikings have learned a lot of secrets, I would guess that is one of our arrows. What think you Heliox?”
“Yes, but what does it mean?”
“It means that either Drustina or Udris is up to something. I think we’d better investigate. “
“That channel looks treacherous,” Heliox replied, “we’ll have to feel our way. Those rocks look lethal.”
“Should both of us go, or just one?” Carl wondered.
Both commanders hummed and hawed as they considered the situation. If both mermaids went upriver and the Viking fleet returned, they could get well and truly caught.
“You’d better wait here and keep a lookout for any ships. If you see any, fire a red signal arrow.”
Reluctantly, Heliox waited off the mouth of the estuary while Carl began to feel his way up towards where the green signal arrow had been seen. The navigation was tricky at first but the wide flat estuary let several places were Carl could turnabout if necessary. They could see the channel emerging from some dense trees on the shore but those same trees made it impossible to see up the river. Carl was cautiously feeling his way across a deep, wide, tidal pool when a commotion caught his attention. Several heads turned simultaneously in Carl’s boat as the commotion grew louder
“What the hell is that?”
“Dunno’, it sounds like some men shouting.”
“But what’s the roaring? Sounds like a waterfall or something.”
“I can’t see anything commander,” the lookout called down from his perch up the mast, “the damned trees lining the banks are impenetrable. I can see smoke further inland by one of those monk’s towers. You know, the ones they retreat into when the Vikings come raiding.”
Carl and his crew hesitated uncertainly. They were more perplexed than frightened and they stopped in the deep pool as they debated what to do. The decision was made for them as a Viking ship erupted from the tree-lined river rocking and tossing wildly while the crew cursed and struggled to control it. The longship was being swept downstream almost uncontrollably by a violent surge of water.”
“What the hell...!” Carl cursed as he roared his orders. “Man the oars! Get ready to ride the flood. That ship will be more concerned with saving itself when that surge reaches the tidal flats. The wave break will get worse as the channel shallows. We’ll be safer here in the deep pool. The depth will ease the torrent and flatten the crest. Get ready lads!”
All the crew were experience seamen who knew that deeper water made wave motions less violent so they leapt to ship the oars and watched their commander like a hawk as he gauged the arrival of the breaking crest. They trusted him implicitly. Carl manoeuvred his mermaid to where he thought was the deepest part of the pool and then carefully sculled with an oar over the stern to keep his position. In this case the tiller was useless for it could not manoeuvre the vessel backwards to maintain its place. Carl’s next concern was the onward approaching rush of the Viking longship as it tossed, pitched and almost capsized as its crew struggled to maintain some semblance of control. For several moments Carl actually admired the seamanship being displayed by the Vikings for they were enduring a wild ride at the mercy of the onrushing crest. It was not to last however. The rocks that formed the perimeter of Carl’s pool also comprised two sentinel spurs that caused the channel to narrow as the river entered the pool where it had scoured out the hollow sanctuary.
As the surging crest of the flood bore the Viking longship towards the sentinels, the Viking commander let rip a curse of despair. The wave peaked between the rocks causing the longship to finally broach and catch the stem-post against the spur. The planking held but the ship heeled violently as it span on the crest and plunged uncontrollably stern first into the pool that Carl was occupying. The stern dipped into the deeper water as the bow reared up onto the crest and the ship shuddered as the stern-skeg rammed the bottom of the pool. The shock unseated the crew and they were toppled aft into the sheets or over the side into the wave that was now surging past the swamped longship. Carl swallowed nervously for despite the deeper water, the wave was still quite steep. He picked his moment and bellowed.
“Row boys! Row for your lives.”
As they picked up the third stroke, Carl’s ship was just starting to make way when the wave swept into them. Their bow started to heave skywards just as the Viking ship had done but fortunately the Mermaid was better placed in deeper water. She was also shorter and shallower draught. The Celtic ship started to slip backwards and Carl had no need to urge his men. They all knew that if they did not make it over the crest of the wave, they would suffer the same fate as the Viking longship on the rocky edges at the other end of the pool. Fear-filled eyes watched their commander desperately threshing on the scull to help his crew as they also struggled frantically to ride over the wave.
The silent tension mounted as the Celts measured their backward progress against the rocks at the side of the pool. They needed no urging from Carl as they pulled even harder on their oars. Then the tension broke into curses of relief as each rower realised the wave was losing its momentum in the deeper waters of the pool. They could finally see progress as they realised they were at least standing still as measured against the rocky sides. Each man found some reserves of strength to make the supreme final effort and the bow responded with an alarming pitch skywards before plunging wildly down the back of the wave. Men clamped the backs of their knees desperately to the thwarts and let out screams of delight as they clutched desperately to their oars.
“We’re not out of bloody trouble yet!” Carl bellowed. “Watch out for the blasted backwash!”
The men needed no second bidding for they well understood what was about to happen. The wave had rushed past to fetch up against the narrow exit at the seaward end of the pool. Not all the wave could escape through the narrow gap and much of its energy was thrown back in a violent clapotis as the back-wave crashed into the following lesser waves of the flood. The pool was briefly turned into a horrendous maelstrom of unpredictable waves and breakers and the mermaid literally bounced and rebounded from wave to trough and back to wave again. It was fully thirty seconds before the crew could regain control. Each man offered up a silent private prayer of thanks to whatever God he believed in; for it was only some sort of benign spirit that had prevented them from somehow being smashed uncontrollably onto one or the other of the pool’s rocky edges. As each man swapped a smile of pure gratitude with his fellow rower they nursed bruised fingers and bruised ribs wherever the oars had fought them. Carl also nursed a bruised shoulder where the longer sculling oar had glanced against the rocks and flicked him violently against the redundant tiller. Silence reigned for long seconds before the crew recovered from the fright.
Eventually Carl found breath to call.
“Anybody badly hurt?”
The lookout called down from his perch.
“Only my nerves commander!”
This brought a collective roar of relieved laughter from the whole crew for they all realised that the poor lookout must have endured a wild tossing as the ship had rocked and pitched and rolled. High up on the mast, the motions would have been hugely exaggerated and he was lucky not to have been flung off his perch. Cautiously he slithered down the halyard and grinned as he rubbed his arse and checked his manhood. His legs had been wrapped around the mast as he sat lodged in the gaff-ring. One of the men teased him.
“Don’t worry lad, she’ll love you still if you get home with or without em!”
The lad stepped gingerly until he was sure everything was as it should be then he went to report.
“The smoke was getting less when I last looked. My thighs are hurting from gripping the mast so long.”
Carl smiled and nodded.
“Good lad, now you lot. The job’s not over. That bloody longship is blocking our way and there’s still a couple of crew to deal with.”
A few survivors’ heads were bobbing in the water, they were those who were both good swimmers and also managed to shed their heavy battle garb. Carl ignored them and steered for the derelict longship. There was no hope of salvaging it at that juncture because
the vessel was swamped and sitting partially submerged on the bottom. Their problem was getting around it to continue up the river.
Once again it was a matter of feeling past the semi-submerged hull whilst others stood ready to shoot any Vikings who looked as though they might still have any fight left in them. None did, they were just grateful to be onshore with their skins intact. Few had their swords and none had any bows. The Celts simply kept an eye on them as they finally squeezed past and between the rocky sentinel spurs as they continued up the river Deel.
The evidence of the ‘flash flood’ was apparent on the banks as Carl and his crew continued edging their way upstream. Fresh chunks of bank were exposed where the rush had scoured out earth and rock not to mention the occasional smaller tree. More gruesome however, was the scattering of Vikings some drowned, some injured, some just lying exhausted and shocked either in pools or on the banks but all were too exhausted and traumatised to be a threat. None had their weapons and only those who had shed their battle armour had survived. The ones still wearing plate or chain-mail appeared to be all drowned. Nevertheless whenever a victim of the flood showed signs of reacting to the arrival of the mermaid, Carl’s archers swiftly filled the individual’s body with arrows. Carl could not afford to take prisoners. After half an hour’s cautious rowing and poling, Carl arrived at a point where the river ceased to be tidal.
The location was only a hundred yards below the island where the smashed abbey wall showed evidence of Drustina’s endeavours. As they secured their ship to the damaged riverbank Carl finally made out a large Viking yelling defiance at the Celts who seemed, for some reason, to be reluctant to kill him. The stand-off intrigued Carl so he eventually stepped ashore to find Drustina and Udris discussing the situation. Drustina looked up and smiled widely as she recognised her partner.
“How did you get here?” She asked.
“My ship is around the bend, amidst those trees, you can’t see it from here.”
Drustina’s smile widened to a ‘face-splitting’ grin when she realised that they now had a ship at their disposal.
“How did you get past the longship?”
“The flood surge did for it. We met it as it was being swept along on the wave. The rush of water overwhelmed it further down-stream.”
“So how did you survive the wave?”
“Pure luck. We were deciding the next move whilst biding our time in a large deep tidal pool. The onrush hit us in the deep pools and we just managed — and I mean JUST, - to ride the crest where the water was fairly deep. The longship caught a rocky spur and broached.”
“Didn’t you capture it?”
“It’s partially submerged. It would take hundreds of men to raise it and refloat it.”
“Damn! It would have been really useful.”
Carl then turned to look at the defiant giant Viking still roaring his challenges to the hundreds of Celts who surrounded him.
“What’s with old Noisy? Aren’t you going to finish him off?”
“I’d like to try and take him alive, judging by his armour, he looks pretty high up.”
“He’s a Viking; he’ll die fighting rather than let you take him alive.”
“He’ll die of starvation if he doesn’t surrender. I want him alive. I’ll post a hundred men to guard him where he stands while the rest of us push on to the River Maigue, I want to establish the trebuchet on the bank to assist King Dal.”
“Then you’d better hurry, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Viking vanguard hasn’t already reached the Maigue.”
Drustina cursed softly, she had suspected as much. She turned to Prince Dorvan.
“How far is it to the Maigue?”
“About ten miles but the road isn’t much better than the road from Foynes to here.”
“Dammit! We’ll be faster by ship, at least as far as the Maigue estuary.”
They all agreed that Carl’s ship would probably be faster and Drustina immediately started to load the trebuchet onto Carl’s ship.
“So where’s your own Mermaid?” Carl asked.
“I don’t know. She went upriver with Udris’s ship ahead of the Viking fleet. They’ve either joined forces with King Dal O’ DalGleish or they’ve hidden somewhere, possibly in the River Maigue. Where’s Heliox?”
“He’s standing guard off the mouth of this river. If there’s a threat he’s borrowed a horn from the north shore troops. They are making haste along the north-shore and they’re all on horseback.”
“Good. D’you want me to come with you or shall we secure a landing point on the river Maigue?”
“You’d best find us somewhere safe to put this thing ashore. I wouldn’t want it falling into Viking hands. They could quite possibly have occupied the River Maigue and its estuary.”
“If you do meet any longships, don’t tangle with them. That trebuchet is too valuable to us and it would be devastating if it fell into Viking hands.”
Carl grinned and asked.
“D’you think they’d know how to operate it?”
Drustina smirked and made a sarcastic smile before grinning.
“You learned!”
“Watch ‘it wife or you’ll get a spanking.”
Drustina ducked swiftly from his outstretched clutch as she giggled and gave a final suggestion.
“Whatever you do, don’t let the Vikings capture that!” She nodded towards the trebuchet.
Finally, the trebuchet was reloaded aboard Carl’s Mermaid and Drustina rejoined Prince Dorvan. The prince asked about the trapped Viking.
“Are you just going to leave him?”
“Why not? Provided your archers keep him under surveillance he can’t escape from that narrow gorge. Now we’d better make all speed for this river. Is there a bridge or anything?”
“It’s about three miles inland and it would add about an hour to the journey.
“So how many are we?” Drustina asked before she formulated a plan.
“We are leaving sixty men to watch that giant oaf of a Viking so that gives me about two hundred and forty or so; plus whatever men you can provide.”
“Well, about two dozen will be accompanying the Trebuchet and providing a full crew for both Carl and Heliox, so I’ve got about forty.”
“So that’ll be just short of three hundred mounted warriors. Have they all got bows?”
“Most of them have.” Dorvan replied.
Drustina nodded as she considered her options.
“Our advantages are speed, mobility and fire power. What we won’t be able to do is protect the trebuchet if the Vikings catch us with it on land. They will win hand’s down in a stand up man-to-man fight.”
“Do we have to land it?” Udris asked. “If we can fire it from Carl’s ship it will be fully mobile.”
“But not so accurate. It’ll be smaller stones again to make a wide scatter to hit as many men with each salvo. The trouble is small stones don’t damage the longships enough to sink them quickly. If the thing is fixed on the shore, we have a more constant range fix and a better supply of ammunition.”
“There aren’t many stones around that area Drustina,” Dorvan lamented. “It’s muddy and flat with few rocky outcrops.”
After the frequent rocky outcrops and abundance of stones on the beaches as she had sailed and ridden up the Shannon estuary, this news came as a bit of a shock to the Lioness. She cursed softly.
“Dammit, where’s the nearest rocky outcrop? Somewhere we can readily assemble ammunition.”
Dorvan frowned thoughtfully.
“Further up past the river Maigue there are a couple of rocky outcrops. I remember playing there as a child; there were plenty of cobbles and larger boulders. It’s only a couple of miles below the city.”
“Can we cross the Maigue? The Viking fleet has got to be between us and Limerick.”
“If they have entered the Maigue, they won’t have got more than about three miles up it and then only with their smaller ships. It won’t benefit them much either. Limerick’s walls are at their strongest to the west and south, that’s were main land threat was always bound to come. And they’d be separated from their ships. Viking’s don’t like being far from their ships.”
“Take me to the River Maigue and let’s hope the Vikings have not decided to explore the river. Where’s the most convenient crossing point?”
“That depends on the tide. By the time we get there it will be after high water. If we don’t mind swimming with the horses, we can cross at slack high water. To stay dry we’d have to detour about three and a half miles inland.”
Still undecided how she would play this scene, Drustina determined to arrive at the very mouth of the Maigue whilst despatching scouts on the fastest horses to check the length of the river for any Viking activity. As they galloped up the road towards Limerick several local riders came forward as they learned that Drustina might have to cross the River Maigue if the Vikings had passed above the Maigue estuary. As she and Dorvan pressed to make haste the men each told the same tale.
“The shallowest place to cross is at a point where the river bends around Ballynacarriga Point. If the tide is low one can even wade across. On horse-back you would hardly get your feet wet at low water.”
“Trouble is,” Drustina frowned. “It’s now a couple of hour’s ebb and the tide will be flowing out to sea at its strongest. We could lose some weaker men and horses.”
“The answer milady is an endless whip between Ballynacarriga head and Carrigclogher point. All the riders can hang onto the rope as it passes around a pulley block on the opposite shore.”
Drustina turned to Dorvan and Udris.
“We have rope and yard blocks on each mermaid. It could work. How wide is the river at those points?”
“Not much; about a hundred Yards I think, maybe less!”
“We won’t have enough rope unless Heliox has some spare line as well. We’d best make for the — what the hell did you call it
Dorvan?”
Dorvan smiled as he repeated the tongue-twister name.
“Ballynacarriga Point. Below that the estuary widens and we will never have enough rope. What about any Viking ships that might have entered the river Maigue?”
“You’ll have to despatch scouts to look as far as they can navigate up the river. It’s about three miles of river, I’m guessing about three teams of four riders should be enough to confirm if they’re in the river.”
Drustina was pleased she didn’t have to give the order. Dorvan was beginning to show some initiative as he quickly organised the teams. By now they arrived at a tiny settlement called Toreen and Dorvan stopped the gallop briefly to find out if there was any news of a Viking landing. Nobody in the village could give any information but one young girl offered to show them the fastest route to Ballynacarriga Point. Udris had also the sense to remember about rope and while Drustina and Dorvan were checking the route. He managed to find some lengths of rope and a pulley from a windmill. It meant they might be able to organise an endless whip to assist with crossing the river before Carl and Heliox arrived with the trebuchet. At first Drustina thought she had lost her lieutenant and she cursed when she realised he was not with the main party.
“Dammit! We can’t bloody wait for him. We have to reach the Maigue as soon as! We’ll look right idiots if Carl and Heliox arrive before us.”
The young girl guiding them turned and wagged her head.
“I doubt it Miss! If the tide is ebbing as you say it is, they’ll have trouble making progress past the horse and bridge rocks. The current is pretty fast there.”
‘By Noden’s arse is there no end to the trickery of this bloody river?’ Drustina wondered. ‘I’ll be glad just to get my own feet on my own Mermaid again if she hasn’t been sunk!!’
Eventually after a hard gallop, the main body arrived at the western bank of the River Maigue and the young teenage girl pointed out where the sandbank was shallowest between the bend around Ballynacarriga point. Both Drustina and Dorvan frowned as they noted the ebb already beginning to suck and gurgle as it recurved from the opposite bank at Carrigclogher Point on the east side. Drustina searched anxiously for signs of Carl and Heliox. The young girl realised that the famous warrior queen was looking for her ships and she pointed to a gap between some bushes.
“If you push through that gap, there’s a track that takes you to the Runekirk point. You’ll get a good view of the river from the little abandoned church. The tower is not locked for the door is missing.”
“Show me!” Drustina replied as her anxiety shortened her temper.
The girl hesitated and Drustina realised her own nervousness was becoming infectious. She turned to Udris and suggested he light a fire while she went to reconnoitre. Then she smiled briefly to reassure the girl and drove her horse through the gap between the bushes. The girl paused until Dorvan advised her.
“Go with the Lioness girl, she still needs a guide.”
Within fifteen minutes Drustina was relieved to be standing on Runekirk point church tower and spotting her two ships about two miles downstream. Carl and Heliox had piled on all sail and set the oars. Despite this their progress was painfully slow and Drustina cursed the tide. She dashed back to Ballynacarriga point and noticed with some relief that Udris had appeared.
“What kept you?”
“This.”
Udris replied as he indicated the coils of rope being spliced together to form a satisfactory length.
Drustina’s tension evaporated as she realised the service Udris had done. They had no need to wait for Carl and Heliox before attempting to cross the river. Indeed Dorvan was already organising a phalanx of his biggest, strongest men to make the first crossing. Men were cutting stakes with their war axes to make a couple of trestles to stretch the rope across the river. Drustina decided to prepare some signal arrows. She then explained to the teenaged girl.
“Go back to the abandoned church and watch out for his reply. He should answer with a red arrow.”
She dashed off and Drustina waited for ten minutes before firing her first arrow with green smoke. From her lookout the teenaged guide saw several of Drustinas green smoke arrows then grinned to herself with relief as she finally saw the anticipated red smoke arrow in reply. She returned with the news to find the camp in some commotion. Several men had finally managed to cross the stream and the rope had been successfully stretched across the river. The commotion was caused by the news from the scouts that a Viking ship was up river raiding yet another abbey church for silver and gold plate. The young girl became anxious.
“My older brother works for the monks on the Abbey farm, I hope he’s safe.”
“He’s probably found a bolt-hole girl. Don’t worry about him. The real problem is here where we are crossing. If the Viking ship crashes into our endless whip, they’ll snap it.”
“Why don’t you set stakes in the river-bed so that they are just under the water? When the Viking ship hits them she’ll stove in her planking. She’ll be coming down the river quite quickly with this ebb tide.”
Drustina stared stupidly at Dorvan and Udris who smirked somewhat sheepishly.
“Why didn’t we think of that.” Udris grinned.
“Good girl! That’s a brilliant idea!” Dorvan added.
The girl smiled a little self consciously as many warriors quickly picked up their axes again and started desperately fashioning sharp pointed stakes. These were quickly embedded in the river bed mud then sharpened as best they could whilst the stakes were submerged. The young girl’s idea had come not a moment too soon. For soon the Viking ship was heard splashing irregularly as drunken oarsmen toasted their successful raid and celebrated their ill-gotten gains.
It was not until the first arrows thunked into the longship’s planking and crewmen that the Vikings realised they were under attack. The merriment quickly turned into roars of rage as shields were quickly raised and the Vikings started rowing in earnest.
They had the wit to realise that the arrows would not hurt them provided they ducked down behind their shields as they rowed furiously to escape the ambush.
The young guide watched with evident satisfaction from behind a large tree as her idea worked perfectly. Suddenly the surging longship shuddered violently and broken planking snapped upwards as the ship’s speed drove its own hull hard against the stakes. Within seconds, the longship was settling in the muddy river and Vikings were roaring with panic as the longship span around and broached in the rushing ebb tide. As arrows rained down from both banks, there were no Viking survivors.
~~ooo000oo~~
The Angry Mermaid 104
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 104.
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1548.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1549.htm
http://www.westernyachtclub.com/chartsbundle/CHARTS/1540.htm
Drustina uses wit and cunning plus the inherent advantages of her Mermaid class of vessels, to defeat the Vikings on their favoured medium, namely the sea.
Author's note.
There is truly a rock called 'The Cock Rock' a couple of nautical miles west of Limerick in the Shannon Estuary.
By the time the Viking Longship had settled hard on the bottom with its hull jammed tight against the remaining stakes Carl and Heliox were entering the river. As they passed Runekirk point they quickly spotted Dorvan signalling frantically from the abandoned church tower. They could identify his banner and armour but they could not make out what he was shouting. Heliox fell in alongside Carl as they discussed the situation.
“It certainly looks like Dorvan.” Carl mused.
“Yes, but is it a trap? The Vikings might have captured him and are using him to entrap us.”
Carl turned to both crews.
“I need a volunteer to go ashore with me in the little boat.”
He was encouraged and pleased that every hand shot up with obvious enthusiasm. Obviously they now trusted him to lead them into the jaws of hell and he smiled as he kept his thoughts secret.
‘Dru, now I know how it feels to be a popular and trusted leader. You are a lucky girl my love!’
He became aware of Heliox studying him.
“Penny for your thoughts Saxon.”
Carl grinned somewhat embarrassedly.
“I was just thinking how Drustina must feel to have men follow her with such loyalty and enthusiasm.”
“It just makes for more responsibility." Heliox grinned then pointed to one of the crew. "I would recommend Carno; he’s a good rower and a proven hand with a sword.”
Carl accepted Heliox’s advice and soon the two men were rowing for the shore. Dorvan came dashing from the church to the shore and splashed into the shallows to meet the boat.
He wasted no time explaining the situation as he returned to Carl’s ship.
“Drustina’s on the East bank just by the first bend where the river begins to narrow. That promontory is called Carrigclogher point. She will be somewhere just past the bend preparing a place where we can get the trebuchet ashore.
Whatever you do, do not go around the second bend. We have the endless whip stretched across the river to get men and stores across. Then just above that we have set heavy stakes in the river bed to make a ship trap. It worked well for there is already one sunken Viking ship that hit the stakes. I’ll tell you all about it as we make our way up the river.”
Refreshed from their brief rest, both crews set to their oars again and they soon arrived at a point where Drustina had fashioned a crude ramp of stones and wood. With over three hundred men and horses, the trebuchet was quickly landed and immediately hauled eastwards up-river towards Limerick. Drustina explained that they would travel as far up the river bank as they could until they encountered the Viking fleet and they would wait there for Carl’s ships.
“Dorvan speaks of a place called ‘The Cock Rock’ and he says there is a large assortment of stones of various sizes all around on the rocky shore just there. I’m hoping you’ll be able load some stones for us there unless the Vikings are not passed that point.”
“And do we still load some stones even if the Vikings have passed beyond it.” Carl asked.
The young guide answered for she had good local knowledge.
“If the Vikings have passed above the Cock Rock they’ll be just about knocking on the walls of Limerick. I know of two other places where you can load stones before the Cock Rock. If you take me with you I can show them to you.”
Before Drustina could decide, Carl answered for her as he grinned at the brave teenage girl.
“Climb aboard young-un. What I’ve been wanting all the way since Askea is somebody with good local knowledge.”
“So have I.” Drustina protested. “I need her more than you if we are to find the best route for the trebuchet!”
The girl kept glancing towards Carl and Drustina until she realised, Drustina’s need was probably greater. Drustina however could see Carl’s need so they compromised.
“The girl can stay with me and we can scout ahead with a score of fast horsemen. She will show them the road then she and I will ride along the foreshore and signal where the stony places are. Set yourselves plenty of sharp eyed lookouts to watch for our arrows. We’ll use red smoke when we reach a stony patch and green smoke if we catch up with the Vikings. You’ll know what to do.”
“Right. And if I encounter the Vikings, I’ll fire off some green signals as well.”
Having sorted out the next phase with Carl, Drustina and the girl raced to catch up with the lumbering trebuchet while Carl and Heliox returned to the River Shannon. It was no good loading stones where the trebuchet had been put ashore because the two mermaids would have been too heavy to row against the ebb tide for nearly ten miles. For the moment, the mermaids needed all the speed and manoeuvrability they possessed in case they encountered the main Viking fleet.
Once they caught up with the trebuchet, Drustina made arrangements with Udris while Dorvan selected his best riders to act as relay messengers to keep Udris advised of the best route. With tasks and duties apportioned, Drustina rode off with the local girl and a dozen well armed companions in case they encountered any Vikings ashore as they scoured the banks of the River Shannon to locate the best stone deposits.
It wasn’t long before Drustina’s band came upon the first signs of the battle that was obviously raging further up the river. The occasional body and some broken planks were mute evidence of a brutal conflict further upstream. Drustina realised that most of the bodies were Hibernian fighters and for a moment she wondered whether she was too late. She expressed these fears to her companions and a depressing silence settled upon the party. They continued cautiously along the bank with swords and bows at the ready until they encountered a bloodied wounded fighter who had crawled out of the water while the plank that had obviously supported him lay on the treacherous muddy tidal flats beside him. .
He was so covered in mud that Drustina was hard put to determine whether he was friend or foe but when the exhausted warrior discerned Irish voices he feebly raised his arm in an obvious cry for help.
“Throw him a rope.” Drustina ordered. “I don’t want anybody getting stuck in that mud, it looks deep and sticky.”
A line was duly thrown and the man responded feebly with his good arm. The warriors gently tested his grip on the rope and he held on as they slowly hauled him across the slimy ooze. He cried out in pain as his body snagged a submerged stump but after some judicious manoeuvring they eventually brought him to the harder grassy bank. Drustina was already kneeling astride the rope as he fetched up between her thighs. The young girl was kneeling beside her ready to translate.
“Steady now comrade. How badly are you hurt?” Drustina asked in her best attempt at Hibernian Gaelic. It wasn’t very successful.
The injured man stared blankly so the young guide spoke in his native dialect.
“My arm is nerveless. I cannot move it. I am done for.” He groaned.
Drustina motioned to one of her companions to bring clean water and the wounded man’s arm was duly cleaned. Drustina examined it as the young guide gasped in disbelief. The lioness scolded her softly.
“Hist girl! Don’t alarm him further! He’s fearful enough as it is. Yes child, it is a large gash, but it should not have paralysed his arm. Wash his shoulder.”
The guide did as bid and Drustina finally recognised the underlying problem. The man’s shoulder was also dislocated and Drustina was pretty sure the displacement was pressing the nerves. She called some warriors forward.
“Hold his upper body still while I reset this joint.”
Several of the more experience warriors knew what was about to happen for they had seen bonesetters at work in battle conditions before. They quickly grabbed the poor man and Drustina started explaining to the man. However she did not wait to finish her explanation. As she felt the man relax while she started to explain, she suddenly yanked hard and unexpectedly on the man’s shoulder whilst jamming her heel into his arm pit. There was a dull ‘clack’ as the ball of the humorous relocated back into the scapula socket and the poor man let out a screaming curse of surprised agony.
“Aaaaarrgghh!! Dammit you bitch, my bloody arm!!”
Drustina just grinned and released her hold.
“Can you move your fingers?” She asked.
He lay groaning for several seconds before recovering his senses as he stared stupidly at her. He had not understood her question. The young girl repeated the question in Connacht Hibernian.
“The lioness asked if you can move your fingers!”
Through tears of pain he looked at his hand while cautiously attempting to bend the fingers. Through considerable pain he saw the digits close and he gasped with excitement.
“They moved!”
“Good!” Drustina replied. “Now perhaps you can tell of the battle.”
“When I was struck down we were holding our line but it’s a close run thing.”
“Where was the battle line when you were struck?”
“King Dal was holding the line just below the Cock Rock.”
Drustina glanced at the young guide who answered knowingly.
“That’s about two and a half miles below Limerick.”
“Right, we haven’t got much time, back to the trebuchet and we make all speed.”
They detailed two of the warriors to tend to the wounded man then they galloped inland to locate Udris and the trebuchet. They found them making slow progress because the men tired after working in the hot summer afternoon. Drustina explained the plan loudly so every junior leader could hear.
“The plan is to set this beastie up at the Cock Rock. For now, the plan still stands as the basis of our tactics. We’ve just learned that King Dal is fighting for survival somewhere around the Cock Rock. We are about one-and-a-half miles from our target so let’s make as much speed as we can.”
It was gratifying for Drustina to see Dorvan’s men set to with renewed vigour and she smiled knowingly to herself. Dorvan had been ahead with Udris but he sensed the mood ripple down the ranks. As he turned back, he watched with no small surprise and his jaw sagged imperceptibly though Drustina noticed. Her smile widened enough to tell Dorvan that she had noticed his incredulity.
“What?” He demanded.
“You’re wondering what suddenly motivated them.” Drustina replied.
Dorvan frowned uncomprehendingly then replied.
“Well, yes ... I suppose I am. What did you say to them?”
“Nothing much.”
“Oh come on! Look at them, they’re almost bouncing.”
Drustina grinned.
“I gave them certainty. They’ve got information, location, destination, direction and determination. All you’ve got to do now is take control.”
Dorvan smirked.
“Have you ever tried to stop a charge of riders once they’re in their pomp?”
“Well I’ll grant you it’s difficult. Just make sure you’re in front and visible.”
“And vulnerable.” Dorvan finished.
“It goes with the job your highness. You want the privileges, you have to earn them.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. It’s said you have more wounds than a whole stable of gladiators.”
Drustina fell silent. It was difficult not to sound as though she was showing off. She had long since passed the stage of displaying her scars. The only person who got to see them was the man who could match her scars at least for number, namely Carl her erstwhile companion. The only scars regularly on display were the scars on her arms and her burned ear. Even her burnt neck and back were covered by her hair.
In answer to Dorvan’s remark she simply shrugged and mounted her horse.
“Come on, we might as well add our efforts to towing that bloody trebuchet. The sooner we meet up with these damned Vikings, the sooner we can help your father.”
The pair met up with Udris who pointed where the most effort was needed and within an hour the trebuchet was approaching a small hill where the clamour and crash of war revealed the battle on the river. Drustina and Udris scouted out a suitable site just behind the crest of the hill and therefore invisible to the raiders. While they did this, the two hundred or so riders scoured the fields nearby for suitable rocks. The young guide had told Drustina that the fields near the rocky outcrops on the banks of the great river were covered in assorted rocks and it was too dangerous for Carl and Udris to try and approach the cock rock with the Vikings so close.
By the time the riders were returning with suitable stones, the late afternoon sun was gradually turning into the long summer twilight. Then the first volley of rocks went flying from the trebuchet’s sling.
The Viking ships were trying to use their weight to smash a breach in Dal’s defensive line so their ships were very tightly packed; so much so that it was impossible for the trebuchet to miss the target. Drustina watched with immense satisfaction as they launched several volleys of large stones before the Vikings realised they were being fired on from some unknown location After a dozen further volleys the effect on the Viking ship-wall was becoming obvious. Their fighting impact had become sorely diminished as Vikings were forced to try and repair the holes in their long ships’ planking. It was becoming obvious that the Viking attack was beginning to fail. She discussed the situation with Udris and Dorvan,
“Why won’t they disengage?” Dorvan wondered. “It’s obvious they are getting hammered.”
“I think they’re waiting for nightfall.” Udris replied. “In the darkness they can get away. Have you any other ideas as to destroying them Lioness?” Udris added.
Drustina shrugged before replying.
“I’m surprised they haven’t despatched a couple of ships to try and neutralise the trebuchet. You’d better keep two squadrons of horsemen hidden in the trees to ambush any Vikings intent upon destroying the trebuchet; otherwise we just keep pounding them with stones.
I see that Carl and Heliox are standing off. Very wise of them, and we didn’t need their stones. I didn’t realise the fields around here were so rocky.”
Having given simple instructions to continue the bombardment, Drustina decided to ride down channel and speak with Carl. Dorvan accompanied her and they signalled from the shore with a fire arrow. It was getting dark before they finally met Carl. He and Heliox rowed ashore to discuss the next phase.
“The Viking fleet is a shadow of its former self and it won’t be going to Limerick. You might as well get rid of all your stones, we don’t need them. Take plenty of fire arrows and just harry them as they try to escape. Make sure you’ve got good local pilots to sail the river during the dark.”
Carl grinned philosophically.
“After all that effort gathering stones now we have to dump them and go back to the tried and tested fire arrows. Have you found the other two Mermaids?” Carl asked.
“Yes Dorvan spotted them when he was reconnoitring further east upriver. His father King Dal had them patrolling behind his battle line to attack any longships that broke through.”
“And did any?” Carl asked.
“I didn’t see any but Dal’s ships have suffered a lot of damage. I don’t think he’ll be in any fit state to pursue the bastards back out to sea. He’ll just be glad to get back to Limerick and lick his wounds.”
“How many Viking ships are fit to sail away?”
“Not many. If they do retreat, their ships will be packed with survivors; overloaded even. Look I’ve got to get back and see how King Dal is faring. I also want to get back aboard my beloved Mermaid.”
“What; you want to fight?”
“Not if I can help it. We’ve done fairly well so far. A dozen Viking long-ships accounted for before the bastards even got up the river. Of the dozen or so that got this far I’m thinking there are two sunk and four that are too damaged to put back to sea after the battle at the Cock Rock. I’m guessing you can expect between six and eight ships trying to make a run for it and some of those will be damaged.
Take care and use your speed and manoeuvrability to avoid getting caught, they’ll not be in any mood to take prisoners; they will be so crowded they’ll likely not have room.”
Carl grinned at Drustina’s concern and kissed her before returning to the two mermaids. Drustina remounted her horse and grinned sheepishly at Dorvan.
“He’s my husband for Noden’s sake. I’ve a right to be worried about him.”
By the time they returned to the Cock Rock it was dark and Udris had given up with the trebuchet. The troops were preparing it for towing and the young guide was carefully checking the route along the foreshore. As they stood discussing the day’s events, the lookouts spotted a small craft approaching from the river.
They peered wonderingly through the deepening gloom until Dorvan recognised the visitor.
“It’s my Dad. That must mean the Vikings have given up and left.”
With that the visitor hailed the shore.
“Ahoy there! Trebuchet team, is that the Lioness?”
Dorvan called back.
“Yes father, land by the torches. The river is calmer there.”
The little boat altered course and soon King Dal O’Dalgliesh of Connacht was singing Drustina’s praises.
“Thank God you made it with that cruel engine. Where is it?”
“On its way to Limerick Majesty. If you follow the trail along the foreshore you will happen upon it for it moves slowly.”
“Not to pound my city gates I hope.” The king grinned as the fear and tension of the day’s battle started to flow from his body.
“There’s been enough pounding for one day. So would I be right in thinking your ships are returning to Limerick.”
“They certainly are Lioness, it would be futile to try and pursue the barbarians in the dark.”
“So what of my two Mermaid ships?”
“They also are going to Limerick.”
“Good, I’ll catch them there.”
So saying, she mounted her horse and turned to Dorvan as they set off to join the trebuchet.
“Well I’m for a bath and a warm soft bed in the city. Tommorrow I seek my Saxon.”
“Will you not be joining us in the festivities?” Dorvan wondered.
At that, King Dal rejoined them after having been found a horse and deciding to ride to his city instead of rejoining his wounded fleet. He turned as Dristina replied to Dorvan before acknowledging his arrival.
“No your highness. Some simple food, a glass or two of wine and then bed! I take it my apartment in your palace is still available your Majesty?”
“If I had a bed of gold it would be yours Lioness. Defeating the Norsemen has given my people hope.”
Drustina chuckled.
“I think I prefer duck down your majesty. It's a little softer.“
The laughter spread through the ranks as King Dal turned to his son and Drustina stopped to discuss something a messenger had brought about the location of Carl. She did not hear King Dal talking earnestly to his son.
“That’s a remarkable woman my son. She’d make you a fine wife and give me fine grandshildren!”
Dorvan wagged his head resignedly.
“She’s married dad. Besides she’s something of an enigma.”
“Oh. How so?”
“She has men’s parts as well as women’s. I could not countenance her as a wife, the male parts would bother me; I cannot help it, but they would. I do not understand how the Saxon tolerates it but he does. I suppose it is because they have fought together so often then suffered and endured so much hardship together. I do know that they truly love one another.
However as to Drustina; as a friend and companion in arms, then truly father, she is without peers.”
King Dal fell silent. Such was the attractiveness and beauty of the woman who was now riding ahead of them that Dal had forgotten about the rumours. He turned questioningly to his son.
“So it’s true then, she is some sort of abomination!”
“No father! She is NOT an abomination; she is a saint who saved your and my kingdom, not to mention our people!”
“But if she is deformed down there...?”
“Then she is as God made her and God does not make mistakes.”
“Have you seen her secrets?”
“It so happens I have; as have most of her companions and crew, especially those who have sailed with her since their early days. Believe me father, she has both parts and I have seen them. She has to piss and shit when out campaigning in the field so she cannot hide it. No sorcerer could have cursed her or blessed her with them, she was born with them and they are therefore god-given. You and I know God does not make mistakes.”
“So why would God send such a one amongst us?” Dal asked his son.
Dorvan became impatient with his father’s seemingly obsessive curiosity.
“I’ve no idea Dad! Let’s just count her as one of God’s blessings. Maybe she has been sent to try our patience or make us tolerant. All I can say is that she is very wise and very clever! Perhaps being both a mother and a father to her children is what makes her wise and keeps her clever! She would understand things from both sides, wouldn’t she?
Now let’s just return home and be thankful for this victory. I for one am starving.”
Dorvan’s father nodded slowly. His son was proving to be a pleasant surprise insofar as he was growing tolerant and considerate. Having concluded that the boy seemed to have learned some important lessons whilst serving alongside the Lioness, Dal was able to relax and consider the forthcoming pleasures of their success against the Norsemen.
“Aye, there’ll be feasting and celebrating tonight and no mistake! I can’t understand why the Lioness is reluctant to join us.”
Dorvan snapped angrily.
“Bloody hell Dad! She’s a warrior, a woman, a wife and a mother and she’s tired. Her husband and battle-mate is still out there either trying to avoid the escaping Vikings or even possibly fighting them. If my partner was out there fighting, I’d not be inclined to celebrate either!!”
Dal sighed with disappointment.
“It’s such a pity, it is good to talk of each other’s feats and how we killed our enemies, sword fights and duels.”
Dorvan wagged his head.
“That’s just it father. We never actually got directly involved in hand to hand fighting except for a brief moment at Askea before the river was flooded. I never once saw the Lioness actually bare her sword though she does bear many scars from previous battles. I can only speak of her swordsmanship from the accounts of her companions but they all speak very highly of her. Anyway, I’ll ask her if she will honour us at the high table to share meat and bread before she retires for the night.”
So saying, Dorvan trotted ahead to speak with the Lioness who had been joined by her Dumnonii Lieutenant Udris. Dal watched them talking earnestly then his son returned.
“She will take a single glass of wine with us and break bread in formal celebration but she apologises for being so unsociable. She is worried for her Saxon and will be setting off down river at first light to search for him and the rest of her men.
~~oo000oo~~
After much preparation and planning, Drustina finally arrives at the scene of the main battle whilst it is in full flow. Her trebuchet proves to be the winning formulae and as the evening shadows are beginning to lengthen, she saves the day for the Hibernian defenders of Limerick.
The following day, whilst searching for her husband and battle companion, she is told of the missing treasures stolen from the Maigue Abbey. She reluctantly agrees to help the monk find the treasure and her good deed earns her and her men an unexpected reward.
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The Angry Mermaid 105
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 105.
King Dal O'Dalgliesh was pleased that the Lioness chose to sit at the feast table for the early part of the evening then he was just as disappointed that she respectfully made her excuses and retired early. Her reason being her fears for her Saxon, Carl and her intention to rise early to go searching.
At the Crack of dawn The Angry Mermaid ghosted away from the City quay and rowed easily with the ebb that bore her steadily down the river. Only her loyal crew, the teenaged girl who had proven to be such an excellent guide and finally Gisela the Norse princess, accompanied her.
This was not intended as a military mission, simply a search for her husband. The young female guide was pleased that Drustina had invited her to join the search. She liked Drustina’s company and found the companionship much to her liking. Additionally, it enabled her to avoid the continuing drunken celebrations in Limerick that would have inevitably precipitated some unwanted attentions from some overbearing drunkards.
Naturally, the young guide fell in with Gisela for the two girls were of similar ages. They sat struggling to talk each other using their rudimentary Latin. Drustina stood smiling in silent reflection beside the tiller while listening to their stumbling efforts to chat.
Several times a soft call from the masthead alerted her to the possibility of a sail but on each occasion it was a false alarm. Eventually, The Angry Mermaid arrived at Foynes and al long last located somebody on the shore who had some positive information.
The Man was the Foynes Harbourmaster-cum- port reeve and he had hardly slept since Drustina and her trebuchet had departed upriver. Whilst Drustina and her forces had been away he had only seen the four Viking ships making haste downriver shortly after midnight.
“And you haven’t seen the other two of my Mermaid ships.”
“Nothing at all My lady, I have had old men keeping lookout all night. The young men all went with your army.”
“Then they must have hidden up in one of the creeks. Which one would be most likely Harbourmaster?”
“That’s hard to say my lady. He might have decided to play ‘Cat-and-mouse’ amongst the Islands off the River Clare or he might have hidden up a creek. The best one would be the River Deel, the entrance is virtually invisible behind the trees that come right down to the shoreline.”
Drustina grinned widely as she remembered that Carl had experience of the river Deel from his earlier visit. She would try there first. Fortunately the ebb had eased and the sea breeze was rising to carry them back upriver. After discussing conditions with the harbourmaster she decided to try the River Deel first. It was easy to spot the outlet because the mast of the Viking longship sunk by the flooded surge was still sticking up out of the tidal pool.
As they picked their way up the river, Drustina paused briefly to determine the chances of salvaging the sunken longship in the tidal pool. After checking it over she concluded it was feasible but it would take many hands. The hull was damaged at the stem but there seemed to be nothing wrong with the underwater parts. The flood surge had simply broached the ship then capsized it.
Her intuition proved right and as they emerged from the trees she was relieved and excited to see Carl and Heliox’s ships secured to the modest trading quay just below the island and the abbey. As she was mooring her ship Carl appeared looking very pleased with himself.
After flinging herself into his outstretched arms and kissing him passionately with relief, she wanted to know what he was so happy about. His grin widened as he explained.
“We captured the giant Viking.”
“Oh good man! How?”
“He fell asleep just before dawn. Heliox and I where the only two with sufficient armour to tackle him so we crept up on him and seized him before he could wake up. By the time he realised what was happening, we had his hands tied together and he was helpless.”
“Oh. So no heroics then, no dramatic battle.” She grinned knowingly.
Carl smirked back.
“I’ve learned just like you. No need for any stupid dramatics. We seized him while he slept. He had to sleep sometime. I tell you though he’s a huge brute.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s tied up with rope and a chain. We found some manacles in the abbey. It begs the question why the monks need manacles.”
“Has he spoken yet?” Drustina asked.
“Not much,” Carl replied, “he only speaks Norse but he refuses to give anything away.”
“Let’s go and meet him.” Drustina decided.
Carl led The Lioness to the abbey while both girls allowed their teenaged curiosity to overcome any fears as they followed.
When they entered the gloomy room where the giant Viking was being held prisoner Gisela let out an involuntary squeal as she recognised the man.
“By Freya’s curse! That’s Guthrun, my father’s cousin; the man I was expected to wed!”
The giant reared up as he recognised Gisela’s voice and he roared thunderously.
“Damn you bitch! You were reported dead! Drowned on the Godwin bank!”
Gisela finally found her voice again as she spat her words.
“No ... damn you! I am not dead! You failed to reinforce our ships as you were supposed to that afternoon. Your friends ran like cowards from the Lioness’s bite! They left me for dead on a stormy sandbank with my ship smashed to pieces; but I lived! I lived despite spending a night clinging to a mast with waves surging up to my waist in a bitter winter sea.
Had the Lioness not found me, I would surely have perished from cold. I cursed you then and I curse you now! Lioness, please, give me a knife that I may end his days here and now!”
“You treacherous little bitch!” The Viking cursed. “You support your father’s enemies!”
“No. I fight a Viking King who preferred to see me dead, just for refusing to wed you! My own brutal father preferred me dead no less! Harald Coldblood...yes, he is well named! Damn you Guthrun, if I could, I’d kill you here and now!”
Gisela’s anger and pain got the better of her and she had to leave the room as tears forced their way to her eyes. She scuttled outside to hide her tears. Drustina then spoke to the Giant in more levelled terms and the man realised that this stunning fair-haired woman was no less than the famous Lioness of Carthage. His lustful eye overcame his reticence and he replied.
“So you are the bitch! The whore who gives no quarter. The she-kelpie of the seas.”
Drustina simply shrugged.
“You will not provoke me into killing you with my sword. I’ve been called worse, but now I must decide what to do with you!”
“Kill me. Let me die with my sword in my hand.”
Drustina’s lip curled in distaste.
“What and give you the chance to injure yet more men ... or women ... or children. To let you have the pleasure of a warrior’s death so that you can enter the realms of the Gods as a hero! Why should I give you that pleasure?”
“It is my right, my wish! You only captured me by trickery.”
“What! You mean when you fell asleep! How is catching you asleep a trick?”
“That was an evil tactic. You should have set upon me with your swords, you would have eventually killed me but I would have died as a warrior.”
Drustina almost squawked with derision.
“So my men have to die just so that you can indulge your heroic fantasies. Dream on Viking. You’re a prisoner now. You should have died with your men, fighting the maelstrom of flood waters in Askea.”
“Would you deny a Viking his last dying wish?”
“Yes!”
With that final sharp word, Drustina turned to Carl.
“You’d better secure him in your ship. I fancy Gisela might try to kill him if he is carried in mine. Besides, technically, he’s
your prisoner, I think.”
Carl nodded and preparations were made to return to Limerick.
~o00o~
Just as the three Mermaids were preparing to sail, a monk appeared on the quay. He was a survivor from the Viking attack on the abbey on the River Maigue. Drustina, Carl and Heliox turned from stepping aboard their ships as the man approached.
“Who are you?” Drustina asked.
“I am a brother from the Maigue abbey.”
“So what do you want of us?”
“I hear you defeated the Vikings last night.”
“We did.”
“Did you see a Viking ship with a red and green sail?”
“We have seen over a score of Viking ships, why particularly this ship?”
“The pirates raided our abbey yesterday and they made away with much plate and coin.”
Drustina heard Carl and Heliox gasp behind her and she realised what they were thinking. She was ahead of them however and she double checked the events on the river.
“How many ships attacked your abbey?”
“Just the one but we had no time to save our treasures.”
“Did this ship have a red hull?”
The monk stared at her.
“You have seen it then!”
“Yes. It lies at the bottom of the River Maigue near Ballynacarriga point. At low tide the stem post, stern post and mast are sticking right out of the water.”
The monk’s eyes widened with excitement.
“Then you must help us recover the treasures!”
Drustina frowned. If her companions were to revisit the wreck to recover stolen gold, it was a safe bet that they would want to keep some, if not all for themselves. She realised they had been somewhat remiss in not recovering it when the wreck first sank. However she reflected that they had other, more pressing issues to deal with at the time. She turned to Carl and Heliox.
“Can we trust ourselves to recover what we can and not try pocketing our shares?”
Carl shrugged.
“First let us see if there is still treasure to be recovered. It’s more than likely that some robbing bastards have already been there. Plenty of men saw the ship founder.”
The monk intervened.
“If they were Limerick men or Clare men they would respect the holy artefacts.”
Helios snorted derisively then remarked.
“Gold is gold priest. Men lose their sanctity when gold is the prize.”
“It’s not a prize. This treasure is the abbey’s and rightfully belongs to the abbey. If any of your men pocket but the smallest trinket, they will be cursed.”
The monk was shocked by a second, and collective, derisory snort from all three commanders. It became obvious to him that holy orders and Christian beliefs were held in contempt by Drustina and her lieutenants. Drustina spoke again.
“It would be better if you appealed to my men’s higher morality and inherent honesty than try to browbeat them with superstitious fears and threats. Perhaps an honest deal would be a better approach; would you agree that my men can claim one tenth part of what they recover.”
The monk was firstly shocked that these Saxon and Gaulish heathens showed no respect for the true faith and secondly stunned that their commander should prove such a mercenary trader. He knew full well that the sooner they dived on the wreck, the better the chances of recovering the stolen treasures. Consequently, he was forced reluctantly to agree the deal.
“So be it then, I have no other option. You have me at a disadvantage woman.”
“It’s Lioness to you priest. If you don’t recognise my rightful status then we will offer you no help at all.”
The monk was shocked that a mere woman should address him so but once again this woman, this ‘lesser being’ had him at a disadvantage. Reluctantly he corrected himself.”
“Very well, Lioness. Ten percent it is.”
A ripple of satisfaction spread amongst Drustina’s band and she invited the monk to join her on her ship.
“We’ll be there much faster now that this breeze has picked up. Come let us make haste before the tide is too low to make the main channel. This creek all but dries at low water and that’s the time we should be diving on the wreck.”
The monk was forced to concede that a ride on a fast ship was infinitely better than walking the seven miles or so. He stepped aboard and looked askance at the two girls comfortably ensconced in the fold of the spare sail. He expected them to relinquish their comfortable bower to him but when the young guide made to stand, Gisela tugged her back.
“Let him sit with the men if he thinks we are lesser mortals.”
“But he is a holy man. I must show him respect.” The young guide protested.
“He didn’t show the Lioness respect. He is the first man since we arrived in these waters, not to have respected her title; he called her woman as though she is something less than he. If he can’t show respect then neither need we.”
The young guide got her first insight into the misogynistic ways of the Christian faith and it opened her eyes. She glanced up at Drustina who had been listening to this even while manoeuvring the Angry Mermaid and turning her in the river. Drustina glanced down and smiled at the guide before she cast a knowing glance towards Gisela. It was obvious to the young guide that Drustina agreed with Gisela. The guide settled comfortably back into the sail and snuggled up to Gisela to keep warm. The priest glared at them then reluctantly found space among Drustina’s men. At first he presumed to simply sit among them until one of the men berated him.
“Hey! Holy man, this bloody ship isn’t being pushed along by some sort of bloody miracle. Put your bloody hands on an oar and lend a hand!”
The priest was once again shocked by the disrespect to his cloth but he took up an oar and bent to the task. Later he was glad he had. Food was brought around by the two girls and only those deemed worthy of feeding were given the full ration of bread, butter and hot scuse with meat and mixed vegetables. Just as he was finishing his welcome ration Drustina called him to the stern.
“There is the estuary of the Maigue. When we enter it, you’ll see the wrecked longship.”
The priest scanned the marshy banks fervently then as the three ships approached Ballynacarriga point he spied the wreck.
“Holy Mary, mother of God, I see it!”
“Then get ready to join us under the water. It’s coming up to low-water time we’d best be hasty.”
He looked around to see several men already stripping naked and his eyes widened with shock. He heard the girls giggling and he turned to scold them only to find that not only were they getting naked but so was the Lioness herself. The lure of gold was too much to resist. Needless to say his shock was compounded into horror when he saw the Lioness’s duality; a beautiful female form with male parts. He had no time to protest however for already the three ships were being secured and men were already plunging into the water. Drustina shrieked at them for their impetuosity.
“You stupid fools! If you all slosh around like beasts of the fields, you’ll muddy the waters and nobody will find anything. Swim on top of the water unless you find something that resembles the treasure. Now you heard the holy man. There is plate and coin. Go carefully and be systematic.”
After her scolding, the men calmed and quickly set about a slow, methodical, painstaking search. Most of the men spent time searching around the lower side thinking that the gold would have spilled out of the capsized ship as she had ripped her planking out on the stakes. Eventually, a substantial hoard of coins and assorted valuables were recovered and laid out on a make-shift table covered by a sail in Carl’s ship. When several hundred coins and goblets had been recovered, Drustina called the priest out of the water.
“See now holy man, we can start to determine what’s what.”
The priest was relieved to be excused from the cold, unpleasant task of diving and he clambered naked onto Carl’s ship to inspect the salvaged goods. As he scanned the valuables his brow furrowed as he turned to Drustina.
“The coins could the abbey’s or anybody’s but I am puzzled. I do not recognise any of the artefacts.”
“What d’you mean?” Drustina demanded.
“I mean none of this stuff belongs to our abbey. It must be stuff they’ve plundered on earlier raids.”
“Well where’s your stuff then?” Drustina demanded.
“I don’t know it must be here somewhere! They stole all the plate and chalices, not to mention rings and statues of the Virgin! I can see none of our stuff here!”
Drustina cursed softly then shrugged.
“We’ll have to widen the search.”
“The men continued diving and searching but save for a few more coins and some smaller trinkets, they found nothing.”
Drustina turned to Carl.
“What d’you think they might have done with it?”
“I just don’t know. The only thing I can think of is that when the Viking Commander realised he could not avoid the stakes, he threw the loot over the stern with an idea to come back for it at a later time.”
Drustina grinned. It was the most plausible answer she could think of and she reached up to kiss her handsome husband.
“You’re not just a pretty face are you? We’ll form a line across the river and scan methodically.”
The priest was impressed at how quickly Drustina’s instructions were followed and he watched hopefully as the men carefully and very slowly started upriver from the sunken longship. They hadn’t gone a hundred yards upstream when a shout alerted everybody. One of Heliox’s men had trodden on a bag of some sort. He felt carefully around his toes and cautiously struggled with a heavy leather bag. It was so heavy it took two men to lift it to the surface. After untying the leather ties, they peered inside and gave a whoop of excitement.
“This is it!”
Others clamoured excitedly around and confirmed the man’s find. It was quickly returned to Carl’s ship where a separate area was cleared and the contents were carefully tipped out. The priest let out a cry of delight as he confirmed them to indeed be the property he sought.
“How can I ever thank you?”
“By declaring to whoever disputes our ownership of that other stuff that we came by it legitimately.”
The priest turned to examine the earlier hoard and realised it was indeed greater than his own recovered property. He grinned at Carl and Drustina.
“I have no interest or claim to that pile. I didn’t even know it existed. It’s obviously the loot from some of their earlier raids.”
“Good. “ Drustina nodded with Satisfaction. “Please make sure you tell King Dal. Remember we are not thieves.”
“Are you not interested in where it came from?” The priest asked.
“It was probably stolen from other abbeys. What do they want with gold?”
The monk sensed the hidden question; the woman ... the Lioness was obviously better read than the common or garden Hibernian. He groped for an answer and failed to find one for he knew the answer she would give would expose the whole hypocrisy. Their prophet was born in a stable, raised as a carpenter then shunned wealth when the call from God came.
‘Why indeed do we need gold?’ He asked himself.
His silence was sufficient answer and in the eyes of Drustina’s companions, it gave legitimacy to their ownership of the other gold.
With this certainty, they happily cast off and returned to Limerick very much richer men.
~~oo000oo~~
Having put the Vikings to flight Drustina goes in search of her partner Carl the Saxon. After finding him,she learns of the Maigue Abbey treasures being stolen and is successful in recovering them.
Then she learns about 'The Book of Brendan' and resolves to have a closer search to see if the books pages can be recovered.
St Brendan is reputed to have crossed the Atlantic before the Vikings.
The Angry Mermaid 106
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 106
Drustina was not surprised that very few people turned out to welcome the three mermaids back to Limerick. Apart from Udris and his crew, most of the population were sleeping off the effects of the victory celebrations and an air of exhausted dissolution had settled over the city. She and her commanders accompanied the Monk as protection for his holy treasures as they picked their way through the deserted streets to the Cathedral church. There the Abbot of the Maigue Abbey was meeting the Bishop.
On learning that the bulk of the treasures had been recovered the Abbot was overjoyed but it was soon tempered with disappointment when he learned of the missing books.
“Are you saying you found none of the books brother?”
“We found clasps and cornices and buckles that bound the books and most of the jewels that adorned them but of the writings within, there are none.”
“What! Even the great book of Brendan?” The Bishop gasped.
The monk nodded sorrowfully.
“That especially your grace, I would have thought the raiders being seafarers, would have cherished the writings there in. I fear we might have decorated the book and it’s casement with too many adornments and embellishments. The glitter must have been too great a temptation to the Viking’s greedy, ignorant eyes. See here, these are the gold hinges and lock to the case that held the book and these are the protective cornices to the leather covers. Of the vellum pages and leather covers, there is nothing.”
The bishop turned to the Lioness and her lieutenants.
“You found no parchments or vellum at all?”
Drustina was truthful but sparing with the truth. She made no mention of the other loot that the Vikings had taken from other churches and monasteries.
“We only searched the river as far up from the wreck as to the place where we found the bag containing these trinkets. Once we found this, we decided our duty was done. Besides my men were cold and hungry after diving in the cold water for several hours, as was I. We did not realise these little fittings were parts of an important book.”
The bishop turned to the monk sharply.
“Did you not think to tell one of the greatest travellers and navigators since St Brendan himself that the book was missing?”
The monk slumped fearfully as he groped for an excuse. Drustina sensed that the Bishop was a bit of a bully. She could see that he was seeking a scapegoat for the loss of one of the most important books in all Hibernia and what was worse, during his tenure of the Bishopric. She stepped in forcefully.
“I don’t think you have cause to blame just one monk your grace. This was an exceptionally powerful and fast moving force of raiders. The whole abbey would have had little time to hide the treasures.”
“But the Great Book is priceless. That above all else should have been hidden!”
Drustina spoke softly and slowly but her voice conveyed the iron will behind the mask of civility.
“Above-all-else your grace is the gift of life itself. They saved themselves and rightfully. No mere book is worth the life of a single person let alone a whole abbey of your holy men.
I regret the loss of the book, and indeed, as a navigator and adventurer, I and my lieutenants would have dearly loved to have studied the Hibernian’s book of his travels. Besides, perhaps the pages were scattered during the raid. They might never have been dropped in the river. Have you or the abbot or any of the other brothers thought to search the banks of the river instead of sitting here wringing your hands and blaming each other? It’s only three miles from the abbey to where we sank the ship.”
An embarrassing silence settled over the meeting as Drustina drew her own conclusions. It was obvious all the other monks and the abbot had abandoned the abbey in a cowardly haste. It was apparent that the lone monk had decided to try and locate the Vikings by himself and plead for the book if nothing else. It was his immense good fortune to have encountered the Lioness entirely by accident.
Realising that the Lioness had just acted as a de-facto ally defending his case, the Monk spoke up a little more boldly.
“Might I suggest that instead of bickering here, why don’t we all go and search the banks of the river? It hasn’t rained since the abbey was raided.”
Drustina turned and smiled as she agreed. She usually preferred action to words.
“What an excellent suggestion brother monk. I have a hundred men at your service plus whosoever of your abbey is prepared to help. First however, my men must eat.”
Drustina now showed her political teeth in demonstrating to the bullying bishop just who held the whip- hand. After all she had over a hundred battle hardened troops at her back and the undying gratitude of king Dal. She made her requirements absolutely clear.
“Bishop, please see to it that my men are fed. I’m sure your Cathedral Church will have stores enough. Now I must see King Dal and discuss the fate of a very important prisoner.”
She left Heliox to sort out the victualing of her men while she and Carl left for the king’s castle.
By then, the castle was only just waking up despite it being late afternoon and Drustina wasted no time informing the king of their capture of Harald Cold-blood’s cousin Guthrun.
“What!” The king almost shrieked with amazement. “You captured a Viking Jarl alive; and you say he’s Cold-bloods cousin!”
“Well he was asleep actually.” Carl chuckled. “We have him manacled to the mast of my ship.”
The king was beside himself with anticipation.
“Can you bring him here?”
“If you wish,” Drustina conceded, “but he is Carl’s prisoner and a very valuable one. If any ransoms are to be made, Carl will be the beneficiary. It would be convenient though if you could secure him in your dungeon. I have had to set a score of men just to guard him despite his being manacled to the mast!”
“Don’t worry; I have a dungeon from which he will never escape. I must see this jarl.”
“Be our guest, Carl replied. He is down at the quay right now. Go and collect him if you wish. I however need some food. There is food being prepared at the Cathedral so I will partake there.”
“So shall I,” Drustina added. “While we are eating, why don’t you take a company of your men and bring Guthrun to your dungeon.
It’s safe, he’s securely shackled.”
King Dal was in high good humour. Holding Harald Cold-blood’s cousin a prisoner would be a valuable bargaining counter if they ever found themselves in a negotiating situation. He was itching to go down to the quay in his excitement to secure the jarl and incarcerate him.
They separated in the city square as Drustina and Carl returned to the cathedral to eat while King Dal hurried down to the quay.
Food had been grudgingly supplied by the bishop and the meal was just being served as Carl and Drustina appeared in the refectory doorway. They took their places next to Gisela and the young guide who were secretly relieved to find themselves having to squeeze up as Carl’s bulk joined Drustina at their table. Several lascivious looks had been turned their way by the bishop and his dean.
As the atmosphere relaxed the girls opened up and they chatted excitedly about the past three day’s events.
“D’you know,” Drustina remarked, “I never got your name young lady.”
The young guide paled slightly and her pallor warned Drustina and Carl that it was something she did not want spread abroad.
Drustina raised her eyebrows slightly and nodded almost imperceptibly before whispering.
“I’ll ask you later, when there are no unwelcome ears.”
The girl smiled and nodded with relief and they rose from the table to return to Dal’s palace. Drustina paid her respects to the bishop who told her he was dining with the king that night so he expected to see them there.
“We’ll look for the Great Book of Brendan tomorrow. It doesn’t look as though it’s going to rain tonight.” She reassured both the bishop and the abbot. “Just make sure all the other monks are on hand to help in the search.”
With the search arranged, Drustina, and her three lieutenants accompanied the teenaged girls through the raucous streets while Drustina learned the young guide’s secret. She finally opened up as they walked past the noisy bars then turned a corner and continued along a deserted street.
“I have run away from my father’s house because he mistreats me. I have been a virtual prisoner in the house since I was but twelve years age.”
“How so?” Drustina pressed.
“He accuses me of being a wanton slut because I am the product of a rape. My mother was raped by earlier Viking raiders so all my older siblings are half brothers and half sisters. Despite this I have much to thank my father for, he gave me his name and fed me and educated me as one of his own. Sadly, unlike my half brothers and sisters, I am a free spirit. Because of this and my looks, he is determined to keep me pure for the marriage bed.”
“So how did he come by that opinion of you? Did you give him cause to think it?”
“No. I was just kissing a boy whose family was visiting my father’s house and the ostler caught us in the stables. I wasn’t doing anything else but my father jumped to some awful conclusions.”
Drustina sighed; it was a familiar story but the girl’s mention of an ostler, told the Lioness that the girl was no ordinary peasant girl. If they had stables and an ostler then the house would be larger than the ordinary rustic hovel.
“So am I to presume your father has a suitable marriage lined up for you?”
“Yes; and the suitor he has lined up is a horrible person. I know he is a bully and he thrashes his horses. A man that mistreats his animals usually mistreats his family. In fact I know he mistreats women, some of his servant women have told me. They warned me when they learned a marriage was to be arranged between him and me.”
Drustina nodded and noted that Gisela was nodding sympathetically as she wiped a tear from her own eyes. The idea that men who were cruel to animals were also cruel to people was a common analogy and there was a lot of truth in it. If Drustina was to help the girl she needed to know more of the situation and she pressed her previous question.
”Well young lady, before I can even hope to help you out of this impasse I need to know much more; like your name for example.”
“It’s Una; Una Dalgliesh.”
Drustina frowned.
“Oh! Any relation?”
The girl nodded then clarified her answer.
“Yes, but we are a distant branch. By adoption I am a fourth cousin once removed to Prince Dorvan but in fact there is no blood connection.”
“So why has nobody recognised you here in the city?”
“As I said, until I encountered you in Askea I had been a virtual prisoner since I was twelve. A girl can change a lot between twelve and fifteen. Besides I have coloured my hair with dirt and mud. It is normally paler than yours or Gisela’s. People haven’t seen me around in public and nobody recognises me as the King’s fourth cousin. In the turmoil and pandemonium of the Viking raids, I managed to escape the house and I’m not going back. Can I join your army like Gisela?”
“Have you any skill with weapons?”
“I can fire a bow and I can use a kitchen knife skilfully.”
Drustina smiled indulgently.
“I’m afraid there’s a lot more to it than that girl. You would have to be proficient with a sword; Gisela is.”
“I can learn. Gisela has learned.”
“Gisela has been practicing with weapons since she was about nine!!! You can’t use her as an example.”
Una’s shoulders slumped with despondency and Drustina fell to thinking about a solution to the girl’s future. The group fell into silence as they continued back to the palace. As they entered the square in front of the Palace entrance, a commotion started at the Palace gates. People were scattering and shouting as they ran to escape whatever the danger was. Drustina and her lieutenants drew their swords then cursed as they recognised the source of the pandemonium.
“How the hell did that brute escape?” Carl cursed.
“I don’t know but he’s got Price Dorvan as a hostage.” Drustina observed. “That’s why nobody is challenging him.
“They’re panicking like headless chickens! Look, the king’s guards are too afraid to approach.”
“Yes, because the brute has a dagger to Dorvan’s throat.”
By now Guthrun, the giant Viking was literally dragging Dorvan the royal prince by the scruff of his neck as the Viking lumbered towards the quay. Drustina and her lieutenants sprinted towards the menace then challenged him. Carl’s voice rang out across the square.
“Hey, Viking! D’you think you can escape? We are a hundred proven swordsman. Release the prince now and we might consider clemency!”
Guthrun roared his contempt.
“Huh! I see only three men and a wench. I have slain a dozen of you vermin at one sitting! There isn’t a man alive who can best me with the sword.”
For emphasis he raised a huge broadsword and with an easy flick of his wrist he pointed it unerringly towards the Lioness.
Drustina decided to intervene. She had no idea what effect her voice would have on the massive jarl but once he recognised her as ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ she hoped he might at least consider something other than dragging his hapless hostage towards the ships. She was close enough now to make herself heard over the clamour of panic amongst the citizens of Limerick.
“There may not be a man who can best you Viking but this bitch can. This wench as you call her; killed your cousin Blueface, over ten years ago in the battle of the Val in Dumnonii.”
“You lie you bitch! It was a lad scarce fifteen and he was lucky, lucky to escape with only a cut arse! You are a wench. Put down your sword and I’ll show you a real sword.”
“And I’ll show you a scarred arse Viking. Look!”
She turned and whipped down her britches to expose a beautifully curved arse with a long, thick, angry scar almost dividing the right cheek. Guthrun stared disbelievingly as Drustina added.
“And I was not fifteen! I was just in my thirteenth summer. Now release the Prince and we’ll consider clemency!”
Guthrun roared his contempt.
“You know full well I could never escape from here alone. I hold this wretch until you decided to take me and I can die nobly from your swords but I promise you this. The Hibernian vermin will be the first to die and the next twenty men who attack me.”
They had reached an impasse for the Viking was now held at bay. Nobody was prepared to tackle the giant save Carl who being no mean size himself, was still a head shorter than the Viking. He turned to his partner.
“D’you want me to take him Lioness?”
Drustina spoke very softly so that Guthrun would not hear.
“No Carl. The first thing he’ll do is slit Dorvan’s throat and the prince doesn’t deserve that. We must find another way. What we must do is somehow entice the giant and his hostage down to the quay. I have my trusty bow hidden on The Angry mermaid and I might be able to end this nonsense with one well placed arrow but you must be ready to attack as soon as my arrow finds its mark. It’s vital the Viking’s sword does not have time to kill the prince.”
“I follow you. So how do we get him to the quay?”
“I’ll torment him with my Toledo blade. With the prince hampering his actions he won’t be able to catch me but I’ll entice him to pursue me as I back away from him and towards the quay.”
“Well, I’ll warrant you are a crack shot with your bow but it’s still a risky play.”
“As I back away from him, he’s bound to follow me you, Udris and Heliox follow us and bring the girls. Guthrun still has an eye for Gisela, albeit a possessive, selfish greedy one. He would like nothing more than to somehow escape with Gisela as his captive. I’m hoping that will be bait enough to spring my trap. While I torment him, you explain to Gisela. Let her make herself obvious to him without leaving herself open to capture.”
“Got you Lioness.” Carl grinned then paused thoughtfully. “But you take care now. He may be desperate and suicidal but he’s still determined to die by the sword. It’s his way into Valhalla.”
“Oh he’ll die alright and by the sword, but I want him dead without any loss to ourselves. Tell Heliox to warn the king but tell them the Lioness is attending to it. My plan is to pierce his arrogant mouth with an arrow down on the quay.”
With a plan worked out, Drustina stepped forward and stood not ten feet from the giant Viking and challenged him to a duel. The man snorted his contempt.
“You’ll not catch me with that ploy. Come once foot nearer and this Hibernian prince dies.”
Drustina spat at his feet then accused him of being a coward as she transferred her sword to her left hand and reached over her shoulder as though attending to an itch. Before Guthrun could determine what the lioness was about, one smooth, lightening fast movement sent her dagger whistling towards the arm that was wrapped around the prince.
Drustina had noticed that the prince was still wearing his ceremonial cuirass from the celebrations of the previous night. If her dagger pierced the Viking’s arm (as it probably would,)it still wouldn’t pierce Prince Dorvan’s chest plate. Her observation proved true and such was the speed of her strike, it seemed as though the dagger appeared by magic protruding out of Guthrin’s arm.
Guthrun let out a roar of enraged fury but he still held tight to his hostage. Now he realised however that the bitch had just raised the ante big time. He had hoped somehow though he knew not how, to negotiate an escape whilst using the prince as his hostage. Now he was bleeding extensively from his left arm and he knew he would have to act fast it there was to be sort of battle ending with a warrior’s death. The trouble was that the bitch had moved out of immediate range of his sword and he lurched off in pursuit to take issue with the Lioness’s sword.
To keep him from realising that she was enticing him towards the quay and her ship Angry Mermaid, Drustina occasionally exchanged blows with his mighty blade and she quickly realised that he was a very dangerous adversary. Her arm felt the force of his strikes through her own blade and she knew she was facing a deadly danger. Every time his massive sword struck her blade the metal rang like a bell and the shock hurt her arm. His eyes glittered with a sense of victory as he saw her arm visibly sag from the shock of his strike. His rage turned to greedy anticipation as his thoughts turned to his dying reputation as the nemesis of the ‘Scourge of the Norse’
‘Surely the gods would allow his soul to enter Valhalla if he arrived at the gates with the Lioness’s name on his sword.’ He dreamed.
With this thought now taking hold of his sanity he upped his pace and struggled forward to engage her while his left arm grew weaker from the embedded dagger. They arrived at the quayside where Drustina disengaged from the duel and sprinted towards her ship. There she quickly un-bagged her precious bow and nocked an arrow as Guthrun paused uncertainly on the quay as he debated how to get aboard the ship and there finally administer the final blow that would despatch the Whore of the north to hell. He paused too long before his crazed brain realised she how had her bow pointing unerringly at his face. Then he realised he could not even use the Prince Dorvan’s body as a shield because his left arm was too weakened by the dagger to lift the prince in front of his face.
He decided the best option was to kill his hostage out of hand then dodge aside and present an impossible prancing target as he approached the bitch. To this end he raised his sword to draw the blade across Dorvan’s throat.
This was the move both Drustina and Carl had been waiting for. Carl had approached behind the Viking with sword poised and when Drustina loosed her arrow he lunged forward to block the Viking’s blade even as the arrow sliced through the Viking’s mouth and out through helmet strap and cheek just missing the jaw and ear. Guthrun screamed with agonised rage and went to wrench his sword across Dorvan’s throat when he realised another sword had jammed his blade over his shoulder from behind. In desperation he pulled down on the other sword with the hilt of his own sword thus trapping Carl’s blade over his shoulder and a brief stalemate was reached.
Drustina was nocking a second arrow and looking where she could place it when a girl’s scream surprised them all and Una had slipped around behind Carl and leapt up to seize the arrow protruding out of Guthrun’s jaw. The giant Viking tried to elbow her off with his sword arm but only succeeded in losing his grip on Dorvan with his weakened left arm. As he slid from under Guthrun’s arm, Dorvan made a grab for the dagger in Guthrun’s left arm and caused the giant to stagger with pain and imbalance as three figures clung desperately to his huge frame. Dorvan managed to seize the dagger and slash at Guthrun’s arm before the Viking swung his left arm wildly to slam the prince aside before he reached around his neck and seized Una’s hand. His mighty hand though weakened by the dagger, still managed to crush the girl’s wrist and she let loose an agonised shriek as her fingers became numb and she released her grip on the protruding arrow. The pitch and volume of her scream surprised everybody not least Guthrun who winced and took a step to steady himself as he decided how to free himself from the threat of the Saxon’s sword.
This action cost him the battle for once his legs were spread, Dorvan was no longer a shield and Carl was no longer in line behind the giant. Drustina now had another decent target. She loosed her second arrow into Guthrun’s un-armoured thigh and debated what weapon to next use; her sword or another arrow. The decision was taken out of her hands as Gisela dashed up behind the giant and thrust a dagger into Guthrun’s side to pierce the Viking’s heart.
Guthrun knew his end had come and he let out a yell of agonised relief as he knew he had died in battle and his soul would enter Valhalla. His last words were.
“Thank you Lioness! I die a hero!” Before Carl yanked his sword back and sliced into Guthrun’s neck. The Giant crashed forward and fell between the stone quay and The Angry Mermaid as Drustina cursed.
“Damn. I wanted him alive as a hostage and bargaining chip!”
Carl stood looking at the corpse as the armour took it down into the water while Dorvan sat recovering to the side and Una crouched whimpering as she tenderly supported her crushed wrist. Gisela stood beside Carl panting with relief and shock as she realised she had just killed her own cousin. Her eyes followed Carl’s gaze and she stared at the blood on the water. It could have been her blood then a cold thought struck her.
‘Technically, it was her blood ... Guthrun was her cousin.’
As Drustina started to re-bag her bow, King Dal arrived demanding to know the situation. Drustina gave it to him straight and demanded to know how the Viking had broken free. Dal in turn demanded to know from his son Dorvan for the Prince must have been close at hand when Guthrun broke free otherwise; how had Guthrun managed to lose the manacles and take the prince hostage?
~~oo000oo~~
After sorting out how and why the giant Viking jarl escaped, Drustina enjoys a relaxing bath with the rest of the ladies but not without first having to explain her duality.
These are reputedly landmarks seen by St Brendan. Some of the images certainly bear plausible resemblances to modern locations like the Faeroe Islands,(Sheep) Iceland, (Lots of volcanoes and geysers), The Crystal Column, (Obviously an Ice-berg)Greenland and some of the central Atlantic islands.
I leave the reader to draw their own conclusions. One my conclusions is that St Brendan didn't leave his route marked out nor did he leave any 'Sailing directions'. (Possibly for Religious reasons.) The features however, might indicate he travelled both in high latitudes and middle latitudes, that is between sixty degrees and thirty degrees north. I wonder if the 'Flat Island' might have been 'Sable Island' or the 'Island of Foul Water' might have been Bermuda. There can be no knowing.
If he did make the crossing I think he possibly crossed to Newfoundland (The Fog on the Grand Banks)after passing south of greenland in the high latitudes (The Arctic Hell)and possibly returned along a Magnetic Rhumb Line starting somewhere about the latitude of Bermuda, whence to the Azores. All the features described and images have plausible realities in the Atlantic especially when one remembers that St Brendan would have had absolutely no idea of his longitude at any juncture of his voyage.
The Angry Mermaid 107
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 107.
Drustina waited silently as Dorvan wagged his head in puzzlement while his father fumed.
“I have no idea how he broke free father! One minute I was stood with my back to him whilst I was discussing something with a scribe then the next moment I felt this arm like a tree trunk wrapped around me. He almost crushed the life out of me and I did not have my sword. Though not much good it would have done me. That brute had the strength of three men.”
“I’ll vouch for that!” Carl added as he finished wiping Guthrun’s blood from his own substantial blade.
King Dal was still not convinced.
“So how did he break free of the manacles?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t see it.” Dorvan replied angrily. “How can you blame me, I wasn’t involved with his transfer, I was discussing the loss of the Great book of Brendan with the scribe in the antechamber next door to the dungeon keep and the next thing I was pinned around the neck. The man is huge, he had a sword and I was unarmed. I don’t walk around the castle with my sword girded on all day and every day! I was only wearing my cuirass because I had been to the smithy to get a dent removed and it’s easier to wear it than carry it.”
Drustina could see that the king’s inquiry was going nowhere so she intervened tactfully.
“Perhaps if we were to have a look at the manacles that might shed some light. He might have sprung the lock or something.”
King Dal harrumphed irritably but felt forced to check on the Lioness’s suggestion. He led the party back to the castle and quickly recovered the manacles. His expression changed to one of incredulity when he was handed the manacles by a very apologetic captain of the dungeon guard. The king flipped the hinge and cursed.
“The bloody clasp is broken. How did this happen?”
Carl stepped forward and studied the heavy clasp and sheared pin. He took out his dagger and fidgeted briefly with the pin until it came free from the hinge. Where the pin had lain inside the hinge of the central locking swivel there was clear evidence of severe corrosion and by relocating the remaining length of pin back into the closing clasp he was able to apply enough pressure to bend the pin slightly. He held up the deformed pin and shrugged.
“My guess is he managed to somehow twist the centre manacle hinge and break the pin. It’s obviously been sheared and he was a bloody strong giant.”
King Dal inspected the bent pin and cursed.
“But how in hell would he have twisted his arms around, he must have had access to some sort of bar to make a lever and fulcrum.
How?!”
Drustina was already stepping towards the heavy oak door to the Dungeon keep for she had seen a glint of freshly scored metal on the lock bar bracket that was embedded into the stonework. After studying it she drew Dal’s attention to it.
“He might have snagged the chain-ring bolt onto this and then simply rotated his wrists inside the manacle ring. Judging by the corroded state of that pin it wouldn’t take much force.”
She took the manacles and demonstrated how the ring bolt could easily be looped onto the locking bracket then she tried twisting it. The pin bent very slightly but refused to give and she muttered a soft curse. Carl grinned and gently removed her slender hand from the wrist rings. Then he got a firm grip and wrenched his massive hand around just as the giant Viking would have done so. The pin snapped for a second time with embarrassing ease and the manacle rings parted silently except from the soft tinkle of the sheared pin dropping to the floor. Carl smiled as he explained further.
“And until I winkled the broken pin out of both ends of the hinge, nothing would have dropped when he did it. The pin only fell out this time because I had freed it and scratched off some of the rust. Those manacles must be as old as the hills.”
Dal cursed for he still felt cheated of the ransom he might have been able to garner even if the lion’s share would have gone to Carl. Drustina grinned sympathetically as she observed.
“Well, it proves the monks haven’t imprisoned and manacled anybody for many a year and that’s not a bad thing. Come on Dal, let’s eat.”
King Dal grinned ruefully but persisted with his discontented gripe.
“All the bloody guards should have been watching him properly; especially as they were obviously handing him over.”
“Well it’s too late now. Let’s be thankful nobody was seriously hurt.” Drustina concluded.
Her words prompted a soft voiced protest from the ranks.
“My wrist hurts, he may have broken it.” Una whimpered.
Drustina turned and stepped forward to check Una’s wrist. The flesh showed angry bruising and when Drustina gently palpated it, the young girl cried.”
“Ow! Damn it, go easy!”
“I think it is actually broken my girl, fortunately not seriously. Can you move your fingers and thumb?”
Una winced but succeeded and Drustina smiled.
“We’ll have the bone setter splint your wrist girl and you’ll be okay in a couple of weeks. It doesn’t look as though there’s any serious deformity so it should mend straight.”
“It hurts!”
Of course it hurts girl! It’s broken! That’s what happens in battles. Be grateful it was nothing worse. He could have broken you in two had he got you in his grip. Ask Dorvan what it felt like.”
“He was bloody strong Lioness!” Dorvan replied somewhat ruefully. “Had I not been wearing my cuirass, he’d have broken my ribs.”
“Indeed he was;” Drustina added, “strong enough to break a girl’s wrist just by crushing it with his fingers.”
Carl nodded and grinned.
“These rusty old manacles didn’t stand a chance.”
Dorvan stepped towards Una and studied her deepening bruise.
“We’d better get you to the bone setter and thanks for making that brute let go of me.”
Despite the pain in her wrist, Una smiled coquettishly and Drustina grinned knowingly towards Carl as the pair made their way to the bone-setter’s infirmary. King Dal caught their shared smiles and turned to Drustina.
“Who is that girl?”
Drustina lied as she spotted an opportunity.
“I can’t say as I properly know your majesty, I’ve only known her for two days. We call her Una, all I know is that she did me stalwart service when we hauled that bloody trebuchet from Foynes. Then she stuck with us right through the battle when we were firing the contraption at the Viking ships at the Cock Rock. She put me right on a few wrinkles like finding suitable stone deposits. She’s a tough, brave and clever girl.”
Carl sensed what Drustina was about so he added his few pence.
“And she’s a pretty kid. Underneath all that grime and mud from the battle I noticed she’s got lovely yellow hair, just like ours and Gisela’s. I noticed when she helped us dive for the abbey treasures.”
“Where did she come from?” Dal asked the Lioness.
Drustina didn’t quiet tell a total lie. The truth was she still did not know exactly where Una’s father’s house was.
“I don’t exactly know. She just appeared at my side in Foynes and explained that she knew all the country from Foynes to Limerick. Apart from that I can tell you little else.”
King Dal didn’t think to ask the Lioness if she knew Una’s full name and Drustina sighed with relief. She hadn’t told any complete lies but once again, she had steered perilously close to the wind whilst being somewhat parsimonious with the truth.
Whilst King Dal stayed back to give both captains of the city guard and the dungeon guard a tongue lashing, Drustina and Carl strolled away towards the castle great hall. Carl chuckled as he teased Drustina.
“You’ll be too clever one day when you only tell those half truths!”
Drustina smiled enigmatically.
“The secret is always to pretend you aren’t certain or can’t rightly remember everything. Uncertainty is your best friend in politics and your worst enemy in war.”
They both turned as a giggle followed by a snort revealed they had a forgotten listener.
“I’ll remember that Lioness!” Gisela grinned.
Drustina turned in annoyance.
“Remember you do big-ears. Now go and see how Una is doing with that wrist.”
Drustina watched her walk away and found herself appreciating the provocative sway of Gisela’s hips. Fortunately, as a woman, Drustina was well adapted to hiding her feelings and she turned to Carl thoughtfully.
“What are we to do with the girl Carl? She’ll never take a husband.”
“I dunno’” Carl confessed as his gaze lingered on the same provocative hips and arse. “She’d make any man a fine wife if it wasn’t for her disposition.”
Drustina had immediately recognised her companion’s preoccupation and she pinched his arse.
“Oy! Eyes off you randy Saxon. This isn’t a rape and pillage raid!”
Carl sighed and turned to walk beside his wife as he remarked.
“Ayee. I suppose she’ll find a partner to suit one of these days.”
“She will,” Drustina replied, “let’s just make sure it’s safe for her when she does.”
“Since when did she become our responsibility?”
“Since I offered her my protection as my prisoner and later demonstrated that protection. She now has a legitimate expectation and it would be a betrayal if I now rejected her. Despite having been involved in battles and Nodens knows what else, she’s still just a kid Carl.”
They strolled across the castle courtyard and took their ease in the great hall until King Dal rejoined them and they sat to eat. Soon the hall filled up and Drustina was quietly pleased to see Dorvan arrive while chatting eagerly with Una. She gently nudged King Dal who was chatting to Carl and had not yet noticed.
“I think your son might have found himself a wife your majesty.”
Dal turned, saw the couple laughing and holding hands and frowned thoughtfully.
“Look at her hair, it’s covered in mud. She needs a clean and a wash lioness.
“Hah! Don’t we all?” Drustina replied. “I’ve got the stink of battle all over me and so has she. We all sweated and struggled to drag that trebuchet to the Cock Rock. Then we went grubbing through the mud and soil to find stones. Finally we were literally crawling and groping in the mud of the Maigue searching for the Abbot's precious trinkets. I can assure you, the stinking muddy waters of the Maigue don’t make for good washing.”
Drustina pointedly sniffed down her cleavage under her dirty battle jerkin and wrinkled her nose.
“I hope your castle runs to some sort of bath and wash facilities. We girls have additional needs when it comes to keeping clean.”
Dal avoided any unnecessary vulgarity and simply replied.
“You’ll have to speak to my good lady wife about washing. I don’t usually frequent the women’s general quarters except to share my lady’s chamber.”
Drustina sniffed appreciatively.
“Good. Methinks that kid will scrub up well. We each need a wash.”
“Be my guest. Now what of these damned books? The Bishop is pestering me to find them.”
Drustina shrugged somewhat despondently.
“I don’t hold out much hope unless the raiders simply threw them away after ripping the jewels off the covers. The real problem isn’t the jewels, it’s the hinges and clasps. The damned holy men used gold and silver ones on the Great Book of Brendan. I can’t think
of a better incentive to get your priceless documents destroyed than to bind them and fasten them with gold.”
Dal pulled a wry smile.
“Right, you’ve given me the bad news. Have you any good news.”
Drustina nodded upwards to symbolise the sky as she answered.
“Well it hasn’t rained since the raid and it doesn’t look like rain tomorrow. If the pages were thrown away they might still be okay.”
“How can you say it won’t rain?” Dal scoffed.
Drustina gave him a withering look.
“Above all else I’m a navigator and a seafarer. What’s the one thing I study constantly?!”
Dal halted himself with embarrassment.
“Oh, yes; of course, sorry!”
Drustina then qualified her observation.
“I didn’t say it won’t rain, I said it doesn’t look like rain. Hopefully if the pages are out there we’ve still got a chance of finding them undamaged if they are still dry. The other good news is that we’ve got lots of searchers. All my companions have travelled many miles on the sea. Most of them would be really keen to see what this monk wrote. How many charts did he make?”
Dal hesitated.
“Not many I’m told. It is said that when he returned he had found a paradise island that was green and fertile. It seems he was loath to let others discover the route. He only made a chart of the islands and things he saw, not the route he travelled.”
Drustina shrugged. The book was already hundreds of years old for Brendan had been around in the fifth or sixth centuries.
After the meal, they talked at length with the abbot and the bishop about the monk’s voyages until Drustina decided to go to bed. She felt filthy and was looking forward to a good bath. When she stood, Gisela and Una followed her actions like a pair of shadows. Dal’s wife caught Drustina’s eye and nodded slightly towards the door that led to the women’s quarters. She briefly chatted about her concerns because her husband had explained about the Lioness’s dualities. Drustina agreed to go modestly unless the other ladies including the queen’s daughters were agreeable. Drustina grinned and explained to the queen that it was a racing certainty that the younger ladies would want to see the freakish arrangements. They always did.
“I’m afraid it’s inevitable your majesty,” Drustina shrugged resignedly. “People are always curious. I will bathe alone if you wish.”
“No. There is not enough hot water for that. We’ll just have to go slowly Lioness. I do not want to frighten my daughters.”
Drustina smiled inwardly, she knew full well that the queen probably was secretly curious and it was a certainty the younger women would also want to look. Because she did not feel in the least bit threatened by the women’s curiosity, Drustina agreed to the queen’s arrangements.
The queen and Drustina decided a strategy whereby she led the Lioness and her two acolytes towards the ladies bath quarter. In a small antechamber were there was cold water, Drustina and Una relished the removal of the filth of the last few days. They were so covered in mud that the queen had suggested that they prewash the mud and dirt before joining her and Gisela in the communal hot tub.
During the prewash Drustina got her first proper look at Una’s long golden hair. As Carl had said, the girl was stunningly attractive and Drustina had to fidget with her breech cloth to hide her male response.
Una was unaware of Drustina’s duality and she had stripped naked unconcernedly. Once she had rinsed the muddy camouflage from her hair she innocently asked Drustina.
“Why don’t you go bare? We are all girls here. Are you ashamed of your scars and disfigurements? You have no need to be.”
Drustina wagged her head and grinned to herself before replying.
“You have not heard the stories about me have you?”
Una’s forehead wrinkled uncertainly.
“What stories?”
“It might be unseemly for me to go completely naked. I am not entirely as other women.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Ask Gisela when we join her and the queen in the hot bath. I will still wear this breech for modesty. Then, if the queen is agreeable, I will let you learn about my body.”
Naturally Una became overwhelmed with curiosity and quickly rinsed her hair of the remaining mud before accompanying Drustina to the communal tub. While Una had rinsed her hair, Drustina had changed her battle stained breech cloth for a clean one. They appeared in the main bathroom and joined Gisela and the queen with several attendants. Drustina was prepared for the inevitable questions. Firstly of course their eyes fell upon the numerous scars and several of the ladies shuddered as they tried to imagine what awful trials and tribulations must have caused them. There was a clamour of questions before the queen brought order. She explained.
“Now ladies, my husband has told me about the Lioness of Carthage so if we are patient, I am sure Drustina will spend a little time explaining how she got the worst of her disfigurements. Then, if the Lioness is agreeable, my daughters will join us.”
Drustina nodded unconcernedly and the three daughters joined the ladies in the large tub. Inevitably the first questions were about Drustina’s wounds and the youngest daughter shrank away at first from the gruesome burn on Drustina’s shoulder and back. Eventually she was allowed to finger the puckered skin until she became comfortable with the fearful disfigurement. With childish innocence she observed.
“You are right to keep it covered my lady. How do you wear your gowns?”
Drustina felt a pang of regret for truly, she always had to wear a half-shouldered gown and arrange her hair whenever she dressed for feasts. Subconsciously she realised the young girl had exposed a raw nerve and it explained why Drustina tended to dress in jerkins and britches for most daily and regular attire. Whenever she attended a festival other women inevitably whispered about the disfigurement because she could never fully conceal it if her hair was flying free during a dance. The queen sensed Drustina’s regrets and quickly moved the agenda forward. She approached it from a novel direction and Drustina felt bound to admire the queen’s diplomacy.
“Well ladies. The next thing is something that has irked me since I realised I was a girl and that is the way we women are treated by the bishop and his priests. They treat us as lesser beings and yet we are the only ones who can bring forth life. Drustina is a lady who has felt this oppression more than any of us because her very nature sets questions that the bishops cannot answer."
All the girls except Gisela listened avidly for they had all heard various rumours. Gisela had seen the Lioness during her toilet and knew about the male parts though she had never seen the Lioness completely naked. She kept silent however for she knew the other girls were far less informed. Una was the first to ask because of her earlier unanswered question.
“How are you different Lioness?”
Drustina sighed softly and firstly prepared them by explaining.
“I was born seemingly a boy because nobody noticed how I was different from other boys. I looked like a boy for my childhood years and it was not until the coming of my womanhood that I learned how I was different. Just like you girls, I started my seasons and I was eventually forced to recognise that those signs in my private parts were evidence of my womanhood. I have a boy's parts were a boy's parts should be and a girls part behind it. I have born children and fathered them and it is this duality that the Bishops cannot countenance. Several times they have tried to have me executed for being an abomination. Do I look like an abomination? Do I act like an abomination?”
Her questions were to determine if there was any prejudice before she revealed her innermost secrets. The girls sat silent for several seconds before Una boldly answered.
“You are too beautiful to be an abomination and you are too kind.”
“Not to mention brave and honest!” Gisela added. “I have benefited from all your good qualities. You are certainly not an abomination.”
Drustina sagged with some relief and smiled at the Viking princess.
“Thank you for that Gisela, we have known each other long enough to know each other well and therefore you to have the right to say that. I need to hear what the princesses feel for it is they who are the most innocent here.”
The three daughters exchanged looks with their mother who simply shrugged then nodded her head slowly before adding.
“I see no abomination here girls. All I see is a remarkable heroine who has helped save your father’s kingdom and ensured our survival. Do not be afraid, you are safer here than anywhere else in the castle; as am I.”
The three daughters relaxed, smiled and nodded eagerly as the older one spoke for them.
“Can we see it then?”
The queen glanced questioningly at Drustina and added her own request to her daughter’s question.
“May we?”
“Very well your majesty. I will stand.”
An expectant silence settled as Drustina stood then started to unfasten her breech cloth. Instead of the expected gasps and shrieks of excitement, the silence continued as all eyes fastened on her penis. Eventually Gisela spoke.
“You know I’ve seen your cock before Lioness for we have had to make nature’s calls when we are on the Angry Mermaid but I have never seen your balls or your girl parts. Please will you show us?”
The queen gasped at Gisela’s crude terminology and quickly insinuated the proper terminology.
“Young lady, we call that a penis, we call the balls, testicles and we call her girl parts a vagina. Please refer to them as such in the presence of my daughters they have led sheltered lives by your standards, very sheltered lives indeed. However,” she added, turning to Drustina, “Lioness might I respectfully ask that you allow me to confirm what you say?”
Drustina sat on the edge of the tub and raised her right knee to expose her seemingly enlarged labia and her vagina. She explained in more detail.
“My testicles sit inside the outer labia lips but they work and you can feel them. They are not as sensitive as a man’s because they are slightly smaller and further up inside; but they do work and I have fathered a child in Egypt. If you trace the labia lips back towards my anus you can easily see my vaginal opening.”
She reached under and splayed the inner labia to reveal her most intimate parts. The queen and her princesses moved in for a closer inspection then they gasped softly, mainly because this particular feature connected The Lioness firmly to their sense of sisterhood. Una spoke again.
“And you’ve had children?”
“Yes certainly, including two sets of twins, I am a twin myself, my sister Mabina became Queen of the Lusitanie. My husband Carl can vouch for all of this.”
Having allowed the girls to see the deepest sources of both her vitality and fecundity. Drustina settled back into the tub and savoured the hot water. Her savouring of the hot tub was followed by a rare luxury, namely close attention to her golden hair by the queen’s personal attendants. This time however, the three princesses joined in as their curiosity led them to examine the unusually pale hair of Una and Gisela as well as the Lioness’s. The youngest princess could not resist asking.
“Why is your hair yellow Gisela?”
“Because I was born a Viking.”
“But you do not hate us or attack us.”
Drustina intervened tactfully before the questions became too invasive.
“Gisela was badly treated by her family and I captured her in battle. Because she was then my prisoner, she had my protection. She is now a battle companion and a free woman but she still enjoys my protection.”
“What about Una’s hair?” The queen asked. “It is even paler than Gisela’s.”
Drustina tactfully skirted the question.
“I don’t know. Yellow hair sometimes turns up amongst my people especially if the Saxons have been around.” She grinned disarmingly before continuing. “Perhaps one of Una’s antecedents had yellow hair. My grandfather Erin had yellow hair when he was young, and my twin sister has as well.”
Una cast a thankful glance towards Drustina who then stepped out of the bath to indicate that her bath was complete.
“Well ladies, if I might excuse myself, it’s been a busy few days and I’m tired. I must catch up on some sleep. I will be up early in the morning to give the whole day to the search for the pages of ‘The Great Book of Brendan’. Let us hope we find them for I would dearly like to sight them.”
Her words and actions gave Una a perfect chance to avoid any more questions for she copied the Lioness by declaring her fatigue. She wrapped her hair in a large towel and followed Drustina to the Lioness’s allotted guest chamber. Once in the privacy of the room Una sighed with relief.
“Thank you Lioness for deflecting their questions. If they compelled me to reveal my identity they would have to return me to my father, I am still his property.”
Drustina ‘harrumphed’ irritably.
“You are nobody’s property girl! Even if he adopted you, you are still a free woman.”
“I am not yet sixteen so I cannot choose my own husband. If he marries me to that bully before I am sixteen, I am trapped for life.”
“So what if you marry Prince Dorvan before you return to your father’s house?”
Una almost shrieked with disbelief.
“What!! Marry the Prince!!? He wouldn’t truck with a commoner like me!!”
Drustina gently placed her fingers on Una’s lips to quieten her.
“Quiet girl, you’ll waken the whole bloody castle by screaming like that. So what makes you think that? He was very enamoured of you when I saw you coming to dinner.”
“But I am a commoner, and furthermore a bastard. My father has always said he would have the devil’s job getting me off his hands and that I should be thankful that he has managed to find me a husband. Illegitimate girls are not royal marriage material! The king would never allow it!”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully before replying.
“Things can change girl. I know Prince Dorvan well and he does not judge a woman by her blood-line. I know for a fact he has turned down several prospective brides and always for very sound reasons. I will speak to the prince on the morrow. Now where are you sleeping tonight?”
“The queen said Gisela and I must share the second bed in this room.”
“Not with me you won’t. My Saxon will be here shortly and we’ll be indulging our marital rights. Help me spread this counterpane between my bed and your bed by the opposite wall.”
The pair created a reasonably private bower for Drustina and just as they were finishing, they heard Carl and Gisela outside the door. Everybody was so tired they quickly climbed into their allotted beds and Drustina savoured Carl's huge arms embracing her. In the other bed Una whispered briefly with Gisela while she tried not to giggle at the sounds coming from behind the temporary curtain.
“Are they always that noisy?” She whispered to Gisela.
“Shut up and sleep girl. We’re helping with the search in the morning. Carl just told me.”
Una gasped and swallowed in panic.
“But I can’t! My father’s house is just across the river from the abbey. Somebody is bound to recognise me and I cannot disguise my hair with mud for people are bound to ask why!”
“Oh shit!” Gisela cursed. “I’ll speak to the Lioness and the Saxon in the morning, now go to sleep!”
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina helps to resolve the issues surrounding Una's illegitimacy and her potential marriage to Dorvan the Connacht Prince. Later there is an unexpected but fortunate result (for Una's family) when the Great Book of Brendan is recovered.
http://news.nationalgeographic.co.uk/news/2012/10/121019-vik...
Compare St brendan's Chart with the Viking charts.
The Angry Mermaid 108
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 108
Gisela was woken by the unfamiliar sensation of stiff fingers prodding her between the shoulder blades. For a second she failed to understand and was about to spin around and stab the offender with the knife that lay on the bench beside her pillow. At the last instant she recognised Una’s urgent whisper.
“Wake up Princess, wake up!”
“I am awake! What d’you bloody want?”
“The Lioness and the Saxon, they are gone!”
Gisela cursed softly and stumbled out of bed to confirm Una’s words. Then she turned again to Una.
“Did you see or hear them go?”
“No. The sun is quite high though.”
“We’d better get dressed. If you want to skip the search for the missing books say your wrist is hurting.”
“I was going to anyway. I wanted to tell the Lioness but if she’s gone I’ll try and tell the queen. I suppose Dorvan will have gone with Drustina and Carl”
“I wouldn’t suppose anything just yet,” Gisela cautioned, “the Lioness could have a thousand reasons for rising early. Anyway, it’s we who are late. Look at the sun.”
They had finished dressing as they talked and they rushed to the refectory to find the hall still crowded and busy. Relieved, they grabbed what food they could and approached the Lioness who was sitting with Carl, Dorvan and the Abbot. Of King Dal and the Bishop there was no sign. Drustina looked up and smiled as the pair approached.
“Hello sleepy heads, finally risen have you? Did you sleep well?”
Gisela nodded but Una made a play of her injured wrist.
“No, I couldn’t sleep, my wrist still aches. Can I be excused from the search for the Great Book?”
Drustina shrugged disinterestedly.
“I suppose so. One pair of eyes won’t be seriously missed.”
Dorvan eyed the girl solicitously and not a little salaciously. Una’s hair now hung like spun gold over her shoulders and down to her waist. Indeed many pairs of eyes had noticed the girl’s exceptional beauty now that she was cleaned up and wearing a borrowed gown. She did the gown a lot more justice than the original owner, the older of Dal’s daughters. Fortunately, none of the royal sisters were there to see it for they were not going on the search. Dorvan however was mesmerised by Una’s unexpected beauty and he couldn’t hide his attraction.
“If you wish miss, I will stay behind with you to stop you getting bored.”
Una smiled weakly and glanced to Drustina uncertainly.
“Would that be allowed Lioness?”
Drustina saw a further opportunity to advance Una’s opportunity to escape her father’s clutches. If she was left to share the day with Prince Dorvan she would most certainly seal his enamourment. Prince Dorvan’s original intellectual attraction had been compounded a hundred fold when he had looked up from his breakfast to discover the vision of loveliness that accompanied the vivacious and attractive heroine who had risked her life for him. Drustina could recognise a star-struck young suitor when she saw one. She nodded her head to Una.
“If you are happy to spend the day with this lusty prince then you may but I caution you. Do not let him take liberties.”
She then glared at Dorvan.
“If I hear that you have tried to take liberties with the maid then royal prince or not, I’ll cut your manhood from your body. Treat her with respect d’you hear me?”
A deathly hush descended on the hall for Drustina’s threat had been heard by all. Dorvan glanced nervously around then declared.
“Of course I’ll respect her. All I wish is her hand. I cannot bespoil her unsullied reputation.”
Una’s jaw dropped with shock but Drustina just smiled tightly. Her plan was coming together better than she had dared to hope, Dorvan had all but made a proposal and within earshot of hundreds. Even Carl stopped with his food poised to enter his mouth. Then a round of cheering broke out as Una blushed the deepest red and Dorvan realised he might just have jumped the gun.
Drustina defused the tension with a word of caution for the benefit of the assembled diners.
“You’d best run that proposal past your father first.”
“I’ll do it tonight.”
“You’d best do it now your highness. I don’t think your father would be pleased to hear of your intentions from a third party.”
Dorvan turned to Una and squeezed her uninjured wrist before declaring;
“My father is with the Bishop right now. There can be no better time to tell him.”
“Well hurry up lad. We’ll be leaving to start the search shortly and I for one would like to know the outcome.”
Dorvan slipped away and a loud hubbub spread through the hall as the diners gossiped about the events. Una slipped closer to Drustina for she feared a negative outcome. Several minutes later, the bishop appeared in the hall and approached Drustina.
“Lioness, you will know why I come. King Dal would like to discuss Prince Dorvan’s plans.”
He then turned to Una and his eyes widened as he could readily see why the royal prince had been so enamoured.
“You are invited too young lady for it concerns you.”
Una swallowed fearfully and stepped close to Drustina as they exited the hall.
“What will he say when he finds out about me?”
“I don’t know darling. He can only say no.”
The trio joined King Dal, Dorvan and the queen in the King’s chamber and Dal immediately turned to Drustina.
“Well Lioness, this is find how-d’you-do! You bring this urch-“
It was only then that Dal recognised the vision of beauty that peeped out nervously from behind the lioness and the bishop. He expostulated his shock.
“God forbid! Step out girl! Let’s get a proper look at you!”
Una stood trembling, not daring to raise her eyes but her demure nervousness totally besotted King Dal who then turned to his son.
“My God lad! Where did you find this rare beauty? Is this seriously that filthy mud bespattered urchin who hung on the Viking’s jaw?
Dorvan sensed his father’s growing approval and drew confidence from it.
“Yes father, the very same and a wonderful lady she is!”
King Dal’s surprise changed to a wide smile as he turned to his queen.
“Well Gwynlen? You wondered if she would make suitable bride. What think you now?”
Queen Gwynlen stared hard at the girl and nodded slowly before turning to Drustina.
“Tell me Lioness, do you know whence the girl came.”
“Partly my lady. She hails from a family with a house near the Maigue Abbey.”
The queen turned to Una and frowned.
“Would you be the daughter of Sean DalGleish?”
Una nodded fearfully as she swallowed and whispered “Yes your majesty!”
“But that makes you blood relative to Dorvan. Would the union be legal Bishop?”
“How close a relative?” The Bishop asked.
Queen Gwynlen did some quick figuring and replied. “She’s be Dal’s fourth cousin once removed. But she’s also related to me by my mother’s side. She is my second cousin.”
“Then the blood becomes dangerously close your majesty.” The bishop cautioned as he turned to confirm the bad news to Dorvan.
Dorvan let out a bellow of protest that degenerated into a curse of despair as King Dal reached out a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. Secretly, the King had thought the match was one made in heaven and he had huge admiration for the spunky girl who had trudged through the mud and gore of battle and even wrestled with the Viking giant. A tear entered his eye as he spoke softly to the girl.
“I’m sorry Una, the blood is too close.”
Dorvan cursed again.
“Dammit father. Half the bloody nobility in Hibernia can show blood connections to our family. Fourth cousin or second cousin, it’s not that close!”
The Bishop intervened again, apology softening his words.
“I’m sorry Dorvan but if it was just one or the other, there would be no problem but the blood is on both sides through Sean DalGleish.”
Una turned to curtsey to the king and make her departure with disappointment writ large in her tears. Drustina decided enough was enough. It was obvious that the king was hugely disappointed for his son and even the queen showed regret. The Lioness decided to take the risk and she motioned to King Dal and his wife.
“Your majesties, might I have a confidential word?”
“Please do Lioness,” King Dal replied, “have you something useful to add?”
“Yes, but first I will speak with the maid. Might I speak to her first in confidence?”
“Of course.”
Drustina pursued Una into the open courtyard and took her by the shoulder. Una span around and buried her face in Drustina’s breast as the sobs exploded from her chest. Drustina squeezed her tight to reassure her then added.
“Your cause is not lost girl. Did you not tell me you were the product of a Viking rape? Your mother was violated by raiders whilst your father was fighting in the main battle.”
Una’s sobs simply became louder as she wailed.
“Yes, but that makes me a bastard. No royal family could ever accept a bastard into their circle!”
“Pisht thee child. Bastardy is not the child’s fault. You are not to blame here, nor indeed is your mother. It was a rape girl! Your mother could not resist a whole band of armed raiders. I’ll warrant you she allowed it to save her baby sons. Will you let me tell King Dal? I’m convinced he would desperately want to see you and his son wedded. Bastard or not!”
“D’you thinks so? My father has always said it would block me from ever entering a good family as a bride.”
“Rubbish!” Drustina snapped. “The prince is desperate for your hand. Let me handle this bit. I’ve handled lots of these affairs!”
“Have you?”
“Yes! I’ll tell you about them at the feast tomorrow night. Now; shall I speak to the king?”
Una nodded nervously and wrung her hands. Drustina returned to the hall to find Dorvan in heated discussion with the bishop and his parents. When Drustina appeared, King Dal turned to her.
“Lioness tell him! The stupid lad says he’ll renounce the throne if he can’t marry the girl.”
“He may not have to Dal.”
It was the first time Drustina had addressed the king so informally but her reasons were sound. She needed to present as a wise and equal advisor if she was to persuade them that Una’s illegitimacy was a way forward and not a stumbling block. King Dal hesitated then replied.
“Go on Lioness. What are you trying to tell me?”
“The girl is not blood. There are no blood connections between her and your son.”
“Oh. Explain.”
Drustina described the events surrounding Una’s conception then she declared.
“No child can ever be blamed for being a bastard. The fault lies with the father ... the blood father that is.” She added hastily.
All four stared at Drustina with mouths agape. Finally King Dal chuckled.
“But he adopted her anyway! Why the old bugger’s got a heart after all.”
“He loves his wife Dal, and it was no fault of hers that she was raped, many times apparently while he was away fighting the bloody main force on your father’s behalf.”
“So why didn’t the girl tell us this?” Queen Gwynlen wondered.
“Una has always been ashamed of her illegitimacy. Her father always thought he would never be able to marry her off to a respectable family because of her parentage.”
Dal wagged his head with disbelief.
“The daft bugger, can he not see that every noble in Hibernia would want her for a bride? Just look at the girl.”
Drustina continued.
“Apparently she wasn’t very pretty as a child and he thought he would be lucky to get her off his hands. He offered her hand to the first man to ask and that was the Earl of Gorvan!”
Dal gasped with dismay and Dorvan cursed loudly. Even Queen Gwynlen let out a cry of despair. The bishop enlightened Drustina.
“He’s a brute! There’s a rumour that he murdered his father and exiled his own mother. We have no proof.”
“I only wish I did,” King Dal finished. “I’ll contact Sean right away and have the betrothal annulled immediately. That is within my powers and if I can’t be king in my own bloody kingdom then God help me!”
Drustina sighed with relief, her effort had exceeded all expectations and she turned to Dorvan.
“Would you like to tell her?”
Dorvan was through the door before Drustina had turned again to King Dal and his queen
“Well that went better than I had hoped. I’m impressed with your tolerance your majesties, now I suppose you’ll relish telling your daughters they’re going to be bride’s-maids.”
“I’ll relish even more that at long last my finicky son has finally chosen a bride. To tell you the truth Lioness, I was beginning to think he was ... you know. No offence intended you understand.”
Drustina simply chuckled and nodded towards the column of horsemen leaving the courtyard.
“I think I’d better join my companions and see if we can find this bloody book.”
As she stepped out into the courtyard, Dorvan accosted her.
“Thank you Lioness, from the bottom of my heart thank you. Can we join the search now?”
“We’d better get changed then. We’re late as it is; and bring your swords, there might be Vikings still hiding out there.”
Ten minutes later the trio were galloping furiously after the column and met with them a mile east of the River Maigue.
~o00o~
Carl and the Abbot had prepared a search plan and Drustina simply tagged along for the ride. In truth there were more than enough searchers and it was obvious that Drustina, Una and Dorvan were surplus. Drustina chose to sit on the bank of the river in the Abbey garden and act as a chaperone to the happy couple. From her comfortable bower she smiled contentedly as she heard the squeals of laughter coming from the pair as they dashed amongst the fruit bushes and fruit trees. Finally the pair tired and rejoined Drustina who smiled knowingly. It was obvious the pair were enchanted with each other. They were eating their prepared rations when a figure appeared from the doorway that led through the garden wall and out along the river bank to a wooden bridge across the river. Even as the figure closed the door, Drustina felt Una tense.
“What’s wrong?”
“That man. He’s the farmer and gardener here, he’s my brother. I told you about him when we were coming from Askea.”
“Well call him over. I’d like to meet your family.” Drustina observed.
“So would I,” added the prince.
“But if he tells my father, they will come for me.”
Drustina wagged her head sadly then explained.
“Una. You have become the royal fiancé. You now enjoy the king’s full protection.”
Una relaxed and called across the garden.
“Linam! It’s me, Una, come and say hello to my companions.”
The figure stopped what he was doing and hurried over.
“Una! Where the hell have you been? Father’s going berserk! The Earl of Gorvan is here, he’s come to claim his bride.”
“I’m not marrying him. The King has annulled the betrothal.”
Linam stared stupidly before demanding.
“What d’you mean; annulled the betrothal. This was all agreed and signed years ago. You’ve got to honour the contract.”
“No I don’t. The king has made the contract null and void.”
“The King. Why d’you keep mentioning the King? The Earl of Gorvan is from another Kingdom, the contract stands.”
“No it doesn’t, the contract was signed in Connacht, under Connacht law. King Dal is the law.”
“I don’t understand why you keep mentioning the king. Why would his majesty become involved in the affairs of an illegitimate country girl?”
“Because father is related by blood to the king and the marriage of royal relations has to be agreed by the king.”
“How in the hell did you become acquainted with the king?”
“I fought on his side against the Vikings.”
“You what!!”
Drustina intervened the family dialogue for it seemed to be going around in circles.
“You heard her Linam. She fought against the Vikings.”
“How, where, our older brothers fought the Vikings they never mentioned her; who are you anyway?”
“I’m the Lioness of Carthage Linam, the warrior queen who helped King Dal defeat the invaders at the Cock Rock. Your sister helped tow, load and operate the trebuchet, not to mention act as our guide. Oh, and by the way, this gentleman is Prince Dorvan, crown prince and heir to the Connacht throne. He can vouch for your sister’s efforts and her participation.”
Linam’s jaw sagged with disbelief until he saw the royal crest on the prince’s scabbard. As the dawning slowly filtered into his uncomprehending brain he slowly sank to his knees.
“I’m sorry your ... your Majest ... no, your Highness. I did not realise.”
“Oh get up man; you are soon to be my brother in law besides already being my cousin.”
Even this bombshell did not immediately pierce Linam’s incomprehension and an expectant silence settled as the three waited for the explosion to detonate. Linam sensed some issue was in the air by the three pairs of eyes watching him. He became slightly defensive.
“What?”
“Did you not hear what Prince Dorvan said?” Una asked.
Linam cast back but such was his confusion he failed to remember.
“No. He mentioned we are related but I know that.”
“What else did he say?” Drustina asked.
Linam frowned in an effort to show concentration but it was obvious he had not connected. Finally Prince Dorvan repeated himself.
“I said I’m soon to be your brother in law besides already being your cousin.”
Again for a brief moment the portent still escaped Linam then the penny dropped.
“You are going to be my brother ...”
“In law ....” Una finished.
He turned disbelievingly to his half sister.
“But, he can’t marry you, you’re ... you’re illegitimate. Father always said...”
“Forget what our father said. King Dal thinks differently, so does the bishop. Provided I am not too close by blood and provided I am not already married, I don’t even have to be a virgin! Though I can swear on a stack of bibles that I am still a virgin despite what father thinks.”
Linam stared stupidly at Drustina and Dorvan.
“Is this true?”
They nodded and smiled as Linam swallowed nervously before declaring.
“Oh shit. There’s going to be ructions at home. The Earl of Gorvan waits to claim you even as we speak. He is at home now with a company of his men at arms.”
“Well the earl is going to have to find somebody else,” Dorvan declared. “I will ride to your father’s house now and explain.”
Drustina stood up suddenly but spoke softly.
“I think your highness that we had best wait until the official annulment is delivered by your father’s herald. It will be far more persuasive than your lonely declaration and from what I have heard of this earl he is a dangerous man.”
“I am not afraid of him, I am no coward.”
“I know that Dorvan, you fought bravely enough these last few days but it would be folly to go single handed into a company of armed men led by a thug with some sort of issue.” Besides you only have your sword, you don’t sport any armour.”
The prince fumed at the Lioness’s words but recognised she was right. He stepped back from his impetuous action.
“Oh very well, I bow to your greater wisdom in matters military. So what now?”
“We return to the castle as soon as the search is complete here.”
At these words Linam declared.
“I doubt you’ll find any more of them here. The only one that survived was last seen hitching a ride from the fleeing ships. He swam out into the River Shannon and was dragged aboard. Nobody’s seen any Vikings around here since you sank their ship in the river.”
“We are not searching for Vikings brother,” Una explained, “we are looking for the Great Book of Brendan.”
Linam replied quite casually.
“It’s in my garden store. I was hiding there when I saw them fling the remains into the fruit bushes. They broke all the hinges and jewels off.”
“What!” Dorvan almost squeaked with astonishment. “Are you saying you’ve had it all the time?”
“Why yes. All the monks and the abbot fled so I hid under some compost behind my store and waited until the Vikings had finished their thieving then I crept out and recovered the book. I got some other books as well, but not all I think. I knew the great book was important, everybody knows that around here.”
Una flung herself at her brother and shrieked with joy.
“Brother, you are fantastic. The bishop will reward you handsomely. Take us to it.”
Linam led them to his stores and crawled under a rack of potting plants to recover the precious pages from a recess in the wall.
Dorvan hugged him in appreciation while Drustina eagerly scanned the pages until she came to the maps.
“These I would love to copy!”
“You’ll have to ask the my father's permission.” Dorvan replied.
“He can site my charts in exchange. Mine are much more informative than these. More accurate too I shouldn’t wonder.”
“These were made from memory over three hundred years ago.” Dorvan replied defensively. “He redrew them from sketches on parchments he made during the voyage. The whole chart was only drawn back at his monastery and he was an old man by then.”
“Agreed,” Drustina replied. “I would like Gisela to see this; she can compare it to her father’s charts. We salvaged some from her ship wreck on the Godwin bank.”
“You cannot take the book from the Abbey!” Linam protested. “There is a curse.”
Drustina rolled her eyes impatiently.
“Oh very well. I will return tomorrow ... with the Bishop if necessary. For now, I will signal my men.”
With these words she returned to the bower in the garden and took her bow from where they had picnicked. Linam watched with interest as she fired of a signal arrow that emitted green smoke. Within half an hour, all the searchers had gathered at the abbey and a mood of celebration spread around the abbey courtyard. The good news was despatched post haste to the king and the bishop while the abbot fussed importantly with the precious book. From the wreckage of the writing room the monks recovered some vellum parchment and wasted no time in making a copy of the chart for Drustina. She however had to constantly deter them from embellishing the document with religious and fantastic imagery of saints, demons and monsters. By the late afternoon the bishop arrived to confirm the condition of the book and reward Linam for his services in recovering and hiding the great book.
That evening a very happy and relieved band returned to Limerick where preparations for the morrow’s victory celebrations were well afoot. Drustina, above all else, was hugging herself with secret excitement as she clasped the copied chart to her breast. As soon as they arrived in Limerick, she led Gisela down to the quay and took out the Angry Mermaid’s portfolio of charts. Back in their chambers they settled down with Carl and Heliox to study the charts. Their excitement grew.
~~oo000oo~~
Our heroine once again finds herself advocating for one of her sisters as Earl Gorvan tries to force the issue of his contracted betrothal to Una.
The Angry mermaid 109
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 109
As Drustina sat at the table, Gisela kept prancing around behind her whilst trying to establish the same orientation as she peered intently over Drustina’s shoulder.
“I know that island of sheep. The Shetland they are at the very north end of Scotland.”
“And this bird paradise, do you know of that?”
“No,” Gisela readily admitted, “but I know the people of Faeroe eat both the birds and the eggs because the abundance makes them plentiful. Apart from that they feed on sheep and whales. They grow oats because wheat and barley won’t ripen. My father tried to capture the islands but failed and decided they weren’t worth the effort. Then he turned his attentions to Britia and Erin.”
“Yeeess,” Drustina mused softly before returning to St Brendan’s chart. “And this Crystal column, any ideas.”
“That’s easy. It’s an iceberg. They are like huge floating mountains of Ice. They seem to live around Groenland.”
“Mountains of ice?”
“Yes. They are huge, many times larger than our biggest ships. They are definitely real; all our travellers have met with them, far, far to the west.”
“Where do they come from?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the snow giants cut them with their war axes. The strange thing is that they move, then they stop, then they move again. Always they move south.”
“And where do they go? Why do they not appear in our seas?”
“They melt Lioness. Everybody knows that Ice melts.”
“Are you serious, they just melt?”
“That’s what our explorers say. They are said to come from the far north.”
“It seems a waste to create a mountain of ice and then just melt it in the sea. Sounds like one of the labours of Hercules. I wonder which poor ice god has that pointless task.”
“It could be a mountain god.” Gisela suggested.
“Well I suppose it would tally with Brendan’s accounts, he writes that the far north is bitterly cold and I can vouch for that from my experiences in Danemark. But why did he call them crystal pillars.”
“Ice is a crystal. It is a crystal of water.” Heliox remarked. “The Monk did not lie.”
Drustina stared at the compared charts.
“There are just too many similarities. There must be other lands far out across the great sea.”
“There are. Why do you doubt my words? Our explorers have come back with tales of wild peoples. Dark, swarthy people just like the fiends the monk describes.”
“Do you mean like the Moors of Carthage and Africus?”
“I’ve never seen a Moor.” Gisela confessed.
“Aye, that would figure. I suppose your lands are too cold for them.”
Carl tapped the table impatiently.
“Well, whether there are lands out there or not. We are not likely to be going there if you want to get home before the winter storms. I doubt any ship could survive the winds that make those great swells that roll in from the north and west. If those swells are just the tired old remains of the stormy seas then I for one will be giving them a wide berth.” He turned to Gisela. “Do your explorers go forth in the winter storms?”
“No. Definitely not; and if you set forth now, it would be long after winter before you returned - if you returned. Our explorers leave in the early spring and they return by the late autumn at the latest. Sometimes they are away for two years.”
“Two years. The Vikings could have overrun the whole of Britannia by then.” Drustina frowned. “We’ll have to forget any ideas of crossing the great sea.”
“Thank the gods for that!” Carl replied as Heliox and Udris nodded their heads. “We’ve trouble enough in our own lands.”
They gathered up the charts and handed them to the Abbey Librarian who took them to the bishop and the abbot. Drustina smiled to herself as she wondered what spectacular and magical embellishments the monks would add to their copies of her working charts. She warned them not to add a single pen stroke to her precious portfolio.
“Just copy them and return them; the sooner the better.”
~o00o~
The following day the whole city was in high good humour as the preparations for the victory celebrations went ahead. Drustina and Carl decided to avoid the tumult and sneaked away to ride in the surrounding country while Gisela, like any teen-aged girl, savoured the mood of excitement throughout the town. They returned in the evening to enjoy the feast and were naturally invited to the high table. There Drustina and Carl were pressured to tell tales of their adventures until weariness overtook them and they felt compelled to make their excuses. King Dal and his queen followed the pair as they threaded their way between the dancers. The king turned to his wife.
“They make a handsome couple.”
Queen Gwynlen smirked.
“I wonder though what brought them together. I don’t understand how he can accept a creature who is neither man nor woman and yet both.”
“Well they go back many years. They met in the Iberian wars when she rescued him and his companions from a Corsair slave galley. Were you not listening when we dined? That’s where she got that flensing scar down her forearm.”
“But she’s a freak.”
“What, are you telling me you despise her?”
“That’s the strangest part Dal darling. Despite her grotesque deformities, I cannot dislike her. She is such wonderful company.”
“To you ladies she may seem like that but to men on the battlefield she is salvation. Under that lustrous hair there ticks the mind of a soldier, a general, a tactician and strategist; not to mention a hero. Just be thankful Gwynlen, for she saved our necks and our kingdom.”
“But there will be a price to pay if she is to succeed with her ambition ... to drive the Vikings from her homeland.”
“Then good lady, it is a price I and our son are prepared to pay; for if she breaks the Viking stranglehold on Northern Britain, she will by default also break the Vikings in Hibernia. Come let us also away to bed. Leave to the young ones to dance the night through. Look at your future daughter in law my lady; see how she and the Viking girl and even our own daughters tease the young bucks. But for the lioness those girls would be on a Viking long-ship heading for slavery or servitude. Count your blessings dear for all of them are alive and laughing on that dance floor.”
Queen Gwynlen nodded soberly, like all women she full well knew the fate that awaited female captives at the Viking’s hands. She followed her husband to the royal guest chambers while the great hall rang to the sound of music and young laughter.
~o0o~
The clatter of hooves woke Drustina and she reluctantly extricated her leg from between Carl’s powerful thighs. He stirred and muttered as she slid out of bed and stepped to the window.
“What is it?” He asked.
“A company of riders — men at arms; and armed. I don’t recognise their banner.”
Carl dragged himself to the window and concurred.
“Neither do I. The captain of the guard seems to have it in hand though. He’s talking to the leader. Come on, back to bed girl, there’s unfinished business.”
He pressed his maleness into the cleft of her bum and she squeaked licentiously then rejoined him between the covers to resume activities. They were still indulging their marital privileges when a knock on the door disturbed them.
“Dammit! Go away!” Drustina shouted through the door while muttering under her breath to Carl.
“By the gods! Can there be no peace or privacy!”
The knocking continued more urgently then a voice declared.
“The King requests your presence in the great hall.”
Carl cursed and lurched angrily towards the door. He stood glaring at the young officer whilst only wearing a lungi to cover his modesty.
“Dammit cannot a couple have any peace! What is it now?”
The officer saluted Carl and explained.
“The Earl of Gorvan is here protesting the nullification of his betrothal to the girl Una Dalgliesh.”
“Cannot the King sort it?” Drustina grumbled.
“The king says there needs to be independent witnesses. A person or persons who are neither of our people nor Earl Gorvan’s. He is from the kingdom of O’Niell. The higher the rank of the witness, the better. You are a queen; that is more than rank enough.”
“Who are the O’Niells?” Drustina wondered.
The officer explained.
“The O’Neill’s rule the kingdom to the north of Connacht. They used to rule from Ulster to Baile Atha Claith before the Vikings drove them out of the east. Now they only rule Ulster but that’s still a large kingdom.”
Drustina rolled her eyes and muttered a soft curse. She had been truly enjoying the rare moment of privacy and tenderness with Carl. It was not often that they shared a whole night of uninterrupted privacy. Reluctantly she acceded.
“Oh all right then. Let me get dressed for the God’s sakes!”
As she dressed Carl asked her.
“Why the battle clothes?”
“Why not? After witnessing this business, we’ve got to be leaving soon if we are to make our way around Hibernia and back to Sotona. The weather deteriorates with every week and winter will soon be upon us.”
“D’you want me with you?”
“Come if you want. It’ll be interesting to see what this earl looks like.”
They finished dressing and Carl frowned as he watched Drustina slip the double daggers into the scabbard under her bust.
“Why?” He asked.
“You never know. You heard what the bishop said about him possibly killing his father. He sounds like a man who might go further than anticipated in trying to win his argument. Besides, I feel undressed without these. Oh, and another thing. I noticed he was dressed for battle when he appeared at the gates. Thinking on that, I think I’ll take my sword as well. “
“Seems a bit provocative. I’ll respect the king’s peace, at least inside his castle anyway. I’ll forego the weapons.”
“Your choice. If the king asks, I can say I was preparing to go down to the ships anyway. The officer didn’t actually set eyes on me just now. Come on; let’s get this over and done with.”
They rejoined the officer outside the bedroom door and he escorted them to the King’s court. When they entered, King Dal looked up and smiled with what Drustina thought looked like relief.
“Ah, Lioness; so glad you’re here. May I introduce his lordship the Earl of Gorvan.”
Drustina smiled at the earl as she acknowledged his presence.
“Good morning earl. I’m told you require a witness.”
“Witness be dammed! I want my betrothal to the woman Una Dalgliesh reinstated. I have a signed contract here!”
Drustina said nothing. She had long ago learned that bombastic, argumentative people usually dug their own graves. She glanced towards King Dal with an expression of quiet expectancy. The king frowned for he felt Drustina had some agenda but he just could not fathom it. Instead he returned to the furious earl.
“My Lord Gorvan, I have already ruled that the contract has been voided. I am quite sure you will receive adequate compensation for your troubles and journey costs.”
The Earl was still restrained enough to address the king by his proper title but Drustina could see that he was getting angrier. He replied to the king.
“But your Majesty. The deal was struck in good faith. I would take the girl off Dalgliesh’s hands because she was of little account and unlikely to find a suitable spouse.”
Drustina interrupted softly just to add spice to the pot.
“So you saying that if you and her father both agreed she would not find a suitable spouse then she would have to married to an unsuitable one?”
Earl Dorvan stopped dead.
“No that’s not what I meant.”
“Well it seems to me that’s what you implied. Might I ask why you and her father thought she would not find a ‘Suitable Spouse’?
She left a quizzical emphasis on the last two words.
“Well the girl is illegitimate, she is deemed by her father to be immoral and promiscuous.”
“Have you ever met the girl?” Drustina pressed.
“No. I saw her in their garden when she was twelve years olf but I have not seen her since.”
“Have you ever spoken to her?”
“No.”
“So why then do you wish for this girl’s hand. A girl you have never met or spoken to and yet is reported to you as an illegitimate, promiscuous and immoral bastard.”
“A man needs a wife. I contracted to take her off her father’s hands, so that he would be rid of her.”
“But you never asked the girl.” Drustina inquired.
“What d’you mean, ‘asked the girl’!? I paid my contract price for her.”
“What, you mean you paid for her like you’d pay for a sheep or a horse or a slave?”
“I paid for a contract.”
“Which the girl — shall we call her Una for she has a name — which Una never signed.”
“Her father signed it, she was obviously too young!”
“If she was too young to sign the contract, then there is no contract, she was not qualified to sign it and indeed, she did NOT sign it.”
The earl cursed and turned angrily to the king.
“Oh this is rubbish your majesty. Are you going to let the law be dictated by a mere woman?”
“The law is the law Lord Gorvan, irrespective of who advocates it. I simply enforce the law. It appears there is no contract between the lady Una and yourself.”
“But her father...”
“Is not empowered to sign a contract denying another their free choice.” King Dal finished the Earl’s sentence. “ Besides, you said it yourself, she is a bastard child of a Viking rape and Sean Dalgliesh does not have full parental rights to sign on her behalf. His wife, I am told, does; for the girl is her blood despite being conceived in rape!”
Earl Gorvan’s jaw worked furiously as he struggled to compose himself and find an alternative argument. Then his eyes glittered as he thought he’d found a way through. He turned to King Dal.
“Do you still respect the laws of combat in your kingdom?”
Dal was about to reply but paused as he saw where Gorvan might be going.
“Provided there is a legal and proper reason for the combat, yes.”
“Then might I issue a challenge?”
Dal turned uncertainly to glance towards Drustina who had now slipped un-noticed to stand behind the Earl and beside the king’s desk. Dal remained worried for he could see his son Dorvan’s life being lost if the Earl challenged the lad who was still not in his full manhood. The silence became oppressive as Dal sought an escape. He was at a loss to find a way out then he noticed Drustina scribbling something on a parchment. The king realised Drustina had something secret to convey so he played for time by asking for a book to be brought from the royal library. This gave Drustina time to finish her note and slip it to the king’s secretary as he walked past her towards the library. Drustina signalled to the secretary to leave the note unseen inside the law book when he returned. The earl had seen none of this activity and he stood arrogant and confident of his right to combat.
The secretary took several minutes before returning because he had been finding the relevant legal page and rules ... and drying the ink on Drustina’s note; he had also read it and grinned to himself.
“No wonder she’s a warrior queen!’ He grinned to himself. ‘She’s clever!’
When he returned, he carried the tomb reverently and presented it to the king then opened it at the relative page concerning combat. King Dal felt a wave of relief as he first read Drustina’s note then saw her remarks confirmed on the same page the secretary had pre-opened.
“It would appear your dispute is mainly with the Lady Una, not her suitor. As a lady, she has a right to choose her champion to support her argument. I suggest we fetch the lady here and she can make her feelings felt. Lioness, might I respectfully ask you to bring the young Lady Una here?”
The Earl of Gorvan hesitated then asked to sight the book and check the king’s interpretations. Dal took the note and put it aside then presented the book to the Earl for his perusal. The earl growled but reluctantly had to accept the King’s interpretation.
“Very well your Majesty. Her Champion it shall be.”
The earl had concluded that Una would choose her royal beau and had Drustina not been sent to fetch the girl that is probably what Una would have done. As they returned to the Royal court Drustina explained.
“He has asked for the rule of combat to challenge your suitor.”
Una paled.
“What, you mean he wishes to fight Dorvan?”
Drustina nodded and Una’s eye glistened with fear. The Lioness quickly reassured the girl.
“King Dal has accepted his challenge but cleverly interpreted the law to rule that Gorvan’s fight is not with your suitor but with you. The legal argument is about the contract made illegally on your behalf by your father and the earl. You wish to break the contract and you have a legal right to do that. If you broke the contract legally, your father would have to pay the Earl compensation and King Dal explained that to the Earl. However, the Earl asked for trial by combat and this means you are allowed to choose your champion.”
“But my champion would have to be Prince Dorvan!” Una sobbed.
“No it doesn’t!” Drustina replied equally emphatically. "As an unmarried maid, you can choose any champion you like. You have not yet publically declared your betrothal to Dorvan nor is it yet a matter of record and contract. A contract I hasten to add, that would require your signature.”
Una’s sobs subsided but she was still worried.
“So who would I ask for a champion. The Earl has something of a reputation for violence.”
Drustina shrugged.
“Violence; yes. But how is he at full combat?”
“I don’t know.” Una replied honestly. “I’ve never attended at the butts.”
“Well enough of that for now, dry your tears and we’ll present to the king. Come on.”
Una’s eyes were still red-rimmed when they entered the King’s chamber but her beauty was still such to cause men to stop in astonishment. After she had curtsied to the king, she turned to Earl Gorvan who stared stupefied before he recovered his speech.
“By all the saints! You have grown girl and might I say how well.”
Ordinarily, such a compliment would have caused Una’s heart to sing but in the current circumstance she struggled to suppress her shudder. It was all she could do to respond courteously.
“Why thank you your lordship.” Was all she managed before turning to King Dal.
“Your majesty Her Majesty the Lioness of Carthage informs me I am summoned here to choose my champion for I am told the Earl Gorvan wished to win me by force of arms.”
Dal smiled first to reassure her.
“Not necessarily young lady. Firstly I have to hear you declare whether you wish to Marry Earl Gorvan or not.”
“Most definitely not your majesty.”
“Very well maid. You obviously cannot fight the Earl yourself but you have the right to choose a champion. I must inform you that if your champion is defeated then you are perforce to accept the Earls proposal. I would advise you to choose your champion wisely.”
Una felt her belly sag with fear and responsibility. King Dal noted her de-composure and added.
“You have a day to choose my lady, meanwhile I shall endeavour to persuade Earl Gorvan to renounce his proposal.”
Even as he turned with a questioning glance towards the Earl, the king was saddened to see the greedy intransigence hardening the Earl’s gaze. There was little doubt that Una’s beauty made her a rare prize indeed. The king turned with disappointment to the Lioness.
“Will you help her choose her champion?”
Drustina nodded and led the shaking Una away. Once they were back in Drustina’s apartments she called her companions around her then put her arm around Una’s shoulders. There she spoke quietly to everybody.
“Firstly Prince Dorvan, I would strongly advise you not to accept Una’s behest that you champion her cause. The Earl is only looking to destroy you and take what he thinks is his.”
Dorvan tensed but stayed silent. If there was one thing he had learned it was that the Lioness was wise beyond her years. His eyes strayed to Carl who sensed the expectations in both Dorvan’s and Una’s gaze. Carl replied.
“I’ll fight him if you wish. It would please me to put such a thug in his place ... that is six feet under.”
“And well you might Saxon." Drustina grinned. "I do believe you could defeat him but I have a more subtle plan.”
Carl turned and canted his head knowingly.
“Go on Dru, this is going to be good.”
“I believe I can defeat him with speed and agility.”
Una gasped as Dorvan protested.
“No my lady, no, no! You are but a woman, he will only have to lay against you and force you down by weight alone.”
Drustina smiled, as did Carl, Heliox and Udris.
“If you doubt my skill with my sword Dear Prince. Let us away to the butts and have a duel. Not to the death of course, for that defeats the object but suffice to convince you of my combativeness. “
Dorvan stiffened.
“Surely not my lady! Are you serious?”
“Never more so.” Drustina grinned. “Go and gird whatever armour you normally don for war.”
The prince cast about the others and sensed he was being set up for they had failed to completely mask their knowing smirks. As he went to get prepared, he turned to Carl as the light began to dawn in his head.
“Is she really that good Saxon?”
“You’ll see lad. Just don’t lose your head and keep calm.”
Dorvan returned with a suite of armour that betrayed his frequent attendance at the butts for it bore dents and scratches from numerous duels both training and competition. Drustina joined him with little additional accoutrements save a shaped breast plate and a light helmet with her hair tightly tucked inside. Dorvan objected.
“But Lioness, you are not protected enough, if I just inadvertently touch you too hard, you could be cut unintentionally.”
Drustina smiled before replying.
“First you must touch me Dorvan. This is a big field, plenty of room to dodge and duck.”
Inevitably word of the friendly duel had escaped and several dozen of the king’s men had turned up to watch. They knew their young prince was a fair hand with the sword and the mace but of the Lioness they knew little or nothing. Curiosity was the main element around the field.
~~oo000oo~~
10th century armour (Actual examples.)
typical northern European helmet.
Typical 10th century plate armour.
Typical 1oth century chain mail.
A typical 10th century female breast plate as drustina would have worn. (Yes, women fought in those times.)
The Angry Mermaid 110
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 110.
The pair stepped onto the field and took positions at the required distance apart. When Carl signalled, the pair advanced and in seconds Dorvan realised he was fighting what seemed to be a wraith. As the Lioness had foretold, he found it impossible to land a blow upon the seemingly ethereal creature that constantly tormented him with sharp taps on his helmet or noisy rapping upon his breast armour and leg plates as her deadly blade moved with lightening speed. Finally, as Dorvan tired inside his suit of plate, she brought the thickened backbone of her blade down hard onto the back his mailed fist and numbed the hand so that his sword fell from his nerveless fingers.
“Ow! Bloody hell Lioness, you’ve deadened my hand!”
“You are disarmed Dorvan, do you yield?”
“Yes of course. Where did you learn that?”
“Truly your highness, I cannot remember. I think it was in Constantia but it might have been Egypt, I honestly forget.”
“Huh, you remembered it well enough to disarm me.”
“Such tricks become second nature. I never forgot it; I just forgot where I learned it. Now do you think I have a better chance to fight this earl?”
The young prince had previously indicated to Drustina that he was a quick learner and he showed the same aptitude as he bent to recover his sword.
“You’re in another league Lioness; your Saxon hardly needs to ever worry about your honour. I don’t think there is a warrior in Hibernia who could safely best you and sully your name.”
Drustina smiled then wagged her head signalling caution.
“There is always somebody better Dorvan, the thing is, that someone doesn’t usually make a song and dance about it. Don’t worry about the loud-mouthed bullies; it’s the quiet ones you must watch.”
“That I know Lioness but I still warn you the Earl of Gorvan is a powerful brute. Be careful. If you slip once he will be upon you without mercy. Now to another thing. Will the ladies be watching this fight?”
“I don’t see why not, they attend the butts don’t they?”
“Why yes Lioness, but those duels, like our duel, are just competitions. Rarely is a combatant killed, though some do receive injuries.”
“Then let the king rule on the audience. I’m sure he’ll consult your mother.”
“I’ll ask him.” Dorvan decided.
~o00o~
“The women!” King Dal shifted uncomfortably then did exactly as Drustina had predicted. “This isn’t some sporting duel my son, if the loser refuses to yield or the victor refuses clemency, blood will surely flow. I will consult with your mother.”
So saying, Dal indicated he wished to speak privately with the Lioness.
“Are you confident about this Lioness?”
“I try never to be confident your majesty for there lies carelessness and error, but I honestly think I can best him. Short of accident I think I can defeat him but I do not intend to kill him. I have an agenda here and if the gods will favour me, I will send out a loud message. I have one final request, the earl chose to duel with noble weapons, I therefore have one request that we duel no earlier than noon and preferably an hour after.”
“Your request is granted. Do you think the women should watch?” Dal asked her.
“If they have not the stomach for it Majesty, they will either not attend or turn their gaze and leave if the fight becomes too gruesome. Let each woman choose for herself. They have free will after all and they see plenty of blood when bearing their children.”
Dal nodded then shrugged.
“I suppose you’re right. Very well, I will run it by Gwynlen.”
The queen just happened to enter as Dal was speaking.
“Run what by me darling?”
He turned and shrugged.
“Drustina was wondering about you ladies wanting to watch the duel.”
The queen turned and frowned.
“So you’re definitely going through with it Lioness. Don’t you think you’re being a bit irresponsible?”
Drustina realised Gwynlen’s concern but she canted her head and made a wry, slightly apologetic smile.
“I have my reasons. If I die, I die, I am not indispensible.”
“Begging your pardon Lioness, I’m sorry to tell you that many of us feel you are indispensible. How will we rid these islands of the Viking oppressors without your generalship?”
Drustina shrugged again but avoided making it look as though she didn’t care.
“Whatever my functions as a leader or warrior are, I cannot allow those responsibilities and burdens to prevent me from righting a smaller wrong that I personally feel very strongly about. Righting the little wrongs can have as much impact on we women’s lot as changing the fates of nations. The Earl of Gorvan needs to learn a lesson and I’m hoping I’ll be able to teach him without recourse to killing.”
“And that lesson is ...?”
“Women are not cattle! ... Beasts to be traded like meat in the market!”
Queen Gwynlen momentarily fell silent for she knew exactly where the lioness was coming from. When she found her voice, she was brief.
“I see.”
Drustina nodded slowly then made her excuses and left. Later she learned that most of the noblewomen had decided to watch the contest. The duel was arranged to begin after the midday meal the following day.
~o000o~
At dawn Carl stirred and studied his bed-mate as she still slept.
‘By the gods! She sleeps like a baby. You’d never think she faced a duel this afternoon.'
He slid carefully out of bed and sneaked away to wash before returning to dress. Drustina was still sleeping so he slipped away to the refectory and ate his breakfast. After eating he returned to their chambers and marvelled that his partner still slept. He debated waking her then decided instead to gather some food from the refectory and leave it by her bed. This done, he joined Udris, Heliox and their crews down by the far end of the harbour which lay adjacent to the butts. They asked him where Drustina was and he simply told the truth by saying he had left her asleep.
As yet the news of her championing Una’s cause was not publicly abroad. The news of the duel however was and as noon approached, the crowds were beginning to gather. Most of the crowd presumed that Prince Dorvan was championing the Lady Una for even the news of Drustina’s previous duel with Dorvan had not been made public. Carl returned to their chambers to find Drustina dressed for the duel in her usual battle apparel. A soft chemise under a soft leather jerkin that prevented her lightweight cuirass breast plate from chafing her bare arms and shoulders. She wore her usual cotton hose to give her maximum freedom of movement and a pair of leather shorts that allowed her legs complete mobility to jump and leap freely. Carl smiled as her clothing told him that Drustina was going to use mobility against the Earl’s armour. She was limbering up as he entered and noticed her empty plate.
“I see you’ve eaten your breakfast so no nerves then?”
“I’m always nervous at the point of battle. Who cannot be?”
“I suppose it would be useless for me to try and dissuade you and let me take your place.”
“I have a lesson to teach and the butts will be the best school.”
Carl nodded sagely as he shrugged.
“Very well, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be, come on.”
He noted she wore her sword and three daggers, one down each of her soft leather boots and her favourite in its lateral scabbard under the formed breasts of her cuirass. Carl realised Drustina meant business. They stepped onto the field used as ‘The Butts’ and Drustina approached the earl. He turned to look at her and paused as he was swinging his heavy sword.
“What brings you here woman?”
“I champion the Lady Una Dalgliesh.”
The earl gaped disbelievingly and called towards the King’s pavilion.
“What lunacy is this, an un-armed woman intends to stand against me.”
Drustina interrupted softly.
“Oh I certainly don’t intend to stand against you Earl. It is my intention to dance around you and bring you low. And I am not ‘un-armed’ I carry my favoured weapons.”
The earl cursed.
“I cannot fight a woman! The laws of chivalry prevent it!”
Drustina chose to goad the bully.
“What do you know of the laws of chivalry? If you followed those laws, you would have renounced your claim of betrothal when the maid expressed her despair. You would have been properly and fairly compensated with coin just as you initially bought your betrothal with coin. You have behaved as little more than a slave trader purchasing a wife simply to assuage your wants where no decent woman would accept your hand in marriage.”
“How dare you bitch! For that you will surely die!”
He turned to King Dal.
“Your majesty, this woman has insulted me and she bears arms. I believe it is my right to seek redress through combat but first I must seek your licence. Despite my anger, she is still a woman, will you let us fight?”
King Dal felt happier that the earl had recognised the issue of Drustina’s femininity for it legitimised his granting permission for the duel to proceed. He raised his hand and called.
“If both of you are prepared to duel then so be it. This issue must be resolved.”
Drustina nodded and saluted her sword to face the king and the Earl recovered his manners enough to copy her salute. They then retreated ten yards and stood guard as the king brought his arm down to signal commencement.
Earl Gorvan advanced confidently but Drustina had no intentions of trading blow for blow. The earl weighed half her weight again and his sword was immensely heavy. Instead, she simply backed away and parried his strikes as she circled the field seeking the softest ground. Eventually as the earl scoffed at her seeming reluctance to stand her ground, Drustina finally found the softest patch where she had expected it. At the lowest corner of the field down by the quay were the grass was still a rich green because of the ground water draining to that area. There was even a small spring and the ground squelched with a satisfying degree of suction under her feet. She exchanged a few strokes to test her strategy and noted with further satisfaction that the earl was definitely having more difficulty than her in moving quickly and shifting freely from foot to foot.
‘This will be the place I bring him low,’ she concluded as she then moved back up the slopes towards the King’s pavilion.
There she made a brief stand and presented a satisfactory display of defensive swordsmanship simply to demonstrate to the gathered nobility that she was competent with arms. Basically she danced and skipped to avoid his lumbering strikes until she heard him grunt with fatigue. The earl was slowly beginning to realise he was in a real fight.
After leading him in circles in front of the crowd Drustina decided to change her tactics. Occasionally she ducked inside his guard and rapped the flat of her sword against his cuirass or haulm simply to tell him she was capable of reaching him. In all that time, Drustina had not used the sharp edge of her Toledo blade once. It was nearly an hour now and the earl had been swinging his heavily mailed arm around in a furious effort to pin the wraith that danced before him. The weight of his armour and chain mail under skirt was beginning to take its toll. Furthermore the afternoon sun was proving to be a curse for his armour was causing him to cook. Sensing that he was tiring, she stepped back several yards to enable him to get a clear view of her and she noted with satisfaction that he paused to recover his breath. Then he brought his mailed fist to his own brow in a futile attempt to wipe the perspiration from his eyes. Drustina grinned and took a handful of grass to wipe her own perspiration away.
“Warm enough for you?” She asked.
“Damn you bitch! You’ll tire before I do.”
“We’ll see; on guard!”
She leapt forward just enough to alarm him and force him to react before his brow was clear of sweat. He brought his sword up to defend himself and Drustina noticed a distinct slowing down.
'He’s tiring, or is he faking it?' She wondered for his arm had been unexpectedly slow.
She decided to risk a strike and leapt forward with sword raised then ducked low as he swung furiously with a wide sweep to deter her. His move opened up his arm pit and whilst he was still well protected by his cuirass, the upper leather buckle and strap was clearly exposed. As she recovered from her duck she looked up to see the strap perfectly presented. She easily whipped up her lethal blade and sliced at the strap. Much to her annoyance she failed to cut right through the strap but fortunately the earl had not even felt the action under his arm. Drustina dived sideways and rolled away even as the earl span around and lurched towards the seeming helpless figure on the ground. He had not reckoned with Drustina’s agility as she flipped backwards and came to her feet with legs spread wide before she leapt to the side again. The earl cursed again.
“Stay still you whore!”
Drustina did not respond for talk was wasted breath and breath was precious. Instead she took several steps sideways and placed a post between her and the earl. This prevented him from swinging his sword in wide sweeps and he was forced to jab. She pranced from side to side then paused and he made the error of thinking she had stopped to recover her breath. He lunged forward thinking he might get a strike in but all he succeeded in doing was going too far forward and allowing the post to block his side. Drustina simply leapt forward past the post and the earl was forced to raise his sword over the post as he span to face her. Once again the leather buckle was exposed and Drustina had time enough to finish the job. She slipped her blade forward again and finally cut the upper strap.
Immediately the Earl’s cuirass flopped loosely around his neck but the lower strap still held it around his waist and he cursed as he felt the cuirass snag his shoulder. He went to re-adjust it but immediately, Drustina gave his breast plate a sharp rap as warning enough to the earl that if he let his guard down she would strike.
For the first time that afternoon, the earl felt real fear as he realised the bitch was actually toying with him. The blustering curses and threats stopped as he finally concluded he was the one in danger, not the seeming sorceress with the sword confronting him.
Drustina grinned as she saw the fear begin to reflect in his eyes. Her grin compounded his fear ... it was meant to.
For long moments the earl stood panting though few could see it from the crowds hidden as it was by his rigid metal cuirass and heavy underskirt of chain mail. The earl realised his only hope lay in conserving his strength while hoping his mail would protect him and the woman before him became over confident and made a slip. The crowd however became restless and more women were joining the crowds as word spread rapidly around the city of Limerick broadcasting the news that the Lioness, a mere woman by all accounts, was besting one of the most notorious bullies in all of Western Hibernia. The crowd became impatient with the earl’s seeming reluctance to carry the fight to the woman whilst she at least had the courage to advance periodically and tantalise the earl with her swordplay. The sullen discontent started to erupt into calls and shouts of discontent and then derision as the pitch of the crowd’s noise raised from the sullen tenor of the men to the soprano shrieks and cries of the women as more of their number joined the crowd and added to the tumult. The earl heard the jeers and cat-calls but he was too tired to respond and too aware of the dangers the bitch before him presented. He roared out a curse to the crowd whilst yet refusing to take his eyes of the figure who tormented him.
“The bitch is a sorceress. No man can skip and dance and move like this wraith moves.”
The crowd fell silent and Drustina felt his accusation had gained him some credence; she had to nail the charge there and then. Like the earl, she chose words for skilful sword play might simply reinforce his claim in the eyes of the many uneducated superstitious watchers. She counter-called his claim whilst reinforcing her femininity.
“Aye earl! You say no man may dance as I, but every woman here can skip and dance as lightly as I do. Just watch them when they dance.”
To emphasise her words she skipped lightly and crossed her feet several times before landing in front of him to present a tempting target. The earl seized what seemed a perfect opportunity and swung out furiously for he had recovered his breath. For the first time that afternoon, his sword made contact; it reached Drustina’s helmet but it was a light glancing blow of little consequence. It made a satisfactory clang however and many thought the blow was telling. Drustina knew better but more importantly she had judged the precise limit of the man’s reach and weight. As she ducked with the earl’s strike, she dropped low to her right and a fearful gasp rose up from the crowd as they thought she was downed. The gasp died in their throats however as, with legs split wide like a ballet-dancer, she rose up to her left and found the earl’s right side exposed as his mighty swing followed through. With a more certain slash she sliced the lower buckle of his cuirass on his right side and the cuirass immediately changed from a useful protection to a confusing hamper as the front plate now dropped sideways and off his right shoulder. The earl was forced to hold the plate if he was to successfully swing his sword again. Drustina decided to use words again to reinforce her superiority to the crowd and let them learn that there was no sorcery involved. She called loudly to the earl.
“D’you want me to rid you of that confounded breast plate as a mother undresses her babe?”
“Damn you sorceress! I will loosen it myself.”
He went to unbuckle his left strap but the heavy mailed gloves caused him to fumble uselessly. Worse still, as he fumbled, it enabled the Lioness to poke her sword under his arm pit and actually prod him hard through his chain mail under-vest. He cursed angrily for the poke was sharp even though it had not pierced his flesh. It also told Drustina that the only viable target was his neck, face and wrists. The chain-mail was of too heavy a gauge. Only the pencil sharp points of her daggers would slide between the links and stab deep enough to draw blood. She stepped back to study his armour and concluded it would be advantageous to cut the cuirass free. The under-vest was a looser garment that would flop about once the security of the cuirass was removed. Furthermore, if the cuirass was removed, she could possibly cut his thick leather belt and that would allow the coat of mail to hang loose from shoulder to shin, a serious hamper to the earl’s mobility. To this end she continued stalking the increasingly frustrated bully until his temper broke and he erred again. The third buckle was cut and the cuirass slid off his shoulder and down his arm to snag on the large cuff of his mailed glove. There it hung like a lobster’s claw swinging and clanking as he struggled to free it.
With his attention distracted to freeing the bizarre appendage Drustina had ample time to step behind the earl and smack his arse hard with the flat of her sword. The blow didn’t hurt the earl but it made a loud smack that echoed around the field and brought a roar of laughter from the crowd. For a brief moment the deadly duel was reduced to farce then Drustina brought it back on track by continuing to circle the earl until she found an opportunity to cut the remaining buckle where it had lodged firmly into the joints of the earl’s mailed fist. She also saw an opportunity to repeat the trick she had played on the young Prince Dorvan the previous morning and brought the back of her sword hard down on the earl’s clenched fist as he struggled to free the buckle. This numbed his hand and the buckle slipped away from his nerveless fingers as Drustina laughed.
“That buckle is too complicated for little boys, d’you want mummy to do it for you darling?”
This remark brought further shrieks of laughter from the women and even some of the men. However several of the men turned beseechingly to Una as they watched the representative of their sex being humiliated. One of the king’s men whispered in Una’s ear.
“Lady, she will do your sex no favours if she continues to humiliate him. Signal to her to offer him quarter or ask her to finish it.”
Una span around angrily.
“What makes you think she is of my sex? Wait and see soldier, wait and watch your fellow male being truly humiliated by a real warrior. Though I will ask her to end it one way or the other. It has been fully two hours now and though the spectacle is hilarious there is no need for further gratuitous insult. I think the earl has learned his lesson.”
So saying, Una called to her champion.
“Lioness, end it I beseech you, one way or the other.”
Drustina waved acknowledgement but Una’s call distracted the earl and Drustina took her chance to prod him hard in the stomach. He cursed and stepped back so Drustina parried his strike then prodded him again. Her splendid Toledo blade was lighter and sharper than the earl’s and it enabled her to make two strokes for one. Each free stroke now drove the exhausted earl backwards towards the swampy corner where fewer crowds had gathered because of the water underfoot. The late comers forced to stand in the water were mostly late-comers and therefore women who had only heard of the duel after it had commenced. Consequently the end was witnessed mainly by women, the working, common women of the city, the women who suffered most at the hands of male and religious oppression. Excited eyes watched with cruel delight as they anticipated noble, manly blood being shed by one of their sex.
As the exhausted earl finally stepped backwards into the deepest stickiest mud, he lost his footing and fell backwards to end up sitting in a pool of muddy water with his sword at his side and staring at the tip of the Lioness’s lethal blade.
“Get up you oaf. I’ll not let witnesses say the ground defeated you!”
He tried to bring his sword around but the Lioness anticipated his move. Sitting on his arse in slippery mud gave him no leverage or stability and she simply whipped her sword sideways as his sword started to come up from the mud. There was a loud clang that signalled one the first real sword strikes in the traditional combat mode but it was the earl’s sword that ended up six feet away while Drustina’s remained firmly in her hand. She seized her chance and prodded her sword under the rim of his haulm thus levering the close fitting rim clear of his brow. His closely shaved scalp was bared and she gently whipped her sword from cheek bone to the crown of his scalp. The normally razor sharp point of her precious blade had naturally suffered from constant impacts and its point was no longer keen. Instead of a clear straight scar, it left a jagged torn rip as the two sides flopped open and copious amounts of blood flowed freely. Drustina had not expected to leave such a ragged cut for it implied poor swordsmanship. She cursed and apologised.
“Sorry Earl. It was meant to be a clean cut leaving a clean scar. That will leave your face terribly disfigured but you can eat and see and hear so be thankful for small mercies. Now, I offer you a greater mercy; I offer you quarter, if you agree to renounce your claim to the Lady Una.”
The crowd of washer women and farmer’s wives were baying for his blood but Drustina signalled to them to be silent as she waited for his answer.
“I’m waiting.” She said softly as she deftly unsheathed his dagger by flipping the hilt with her blade.
This act demonstrated her superior swordsmanship beyond all doubt and the un-weaponed earl sullenly agreed her terms.
“Louder please your lordship." Drustina demanded. "I want the women to hear.”
“Alright! Dammit, I renounce my claim to the Lady Una’s hand!”
“Thank you, now get up, this is no place to be sitting, you’ll catch your death.”
He looked at her and almost saw the funny side but he managed to hide his smile for it was one of relief as well as amusement. Once he got to his feet, Drustina jabbed her blade into the mud filled guard of his discarded sword and proffered it to him. He took it and sheathed it immediately. Drustina nodded ever so slightly so that only the earl saw it as she whispered.
“I’m glad to see that you are at least a man of honour. Lesser men might have tried to stick me as I returned your sword. Come let us return to the king. Oh wait, tarry a while please, I need to piss.”
So saying she lowered the front of her britches and revealed her manhood to piss openly in front of all the common women. A disbelieving gasp went up from the women as Drustina explained to the shocked earl.
“The warrior, who defeated you Earl, is not all woman, though she is woman enough to bear children. But always remember there is man enough in my loins to also do the man’s part. Just remember, your defeat is no disgrace. The scar on your face will be your badge of honour, not a badge of shame. You were torn by the Lioness’s claw. I am not a butcher, remember that lionesses, like wolves and bears, only kill to eat or defend themselves. I had you defenceless so there was no need to kill. There will come a day when I will need men like you if I am defeat these cursed Norsemen.”
The Earl frowned and Drustina asked.
“What’s wrong?”
“There is a problem Lioness, much though I hate the Vikings, I am sworn allegiance to the King O’Niell and he has a pact with the Vikings.”
Drustina laughed softly.
“He only makes peace with them because they are more powerful than him in the east. The moment your king sees a chance to recover Baile átha Cliath and all Leinster, he will rip my arm off if I extend it to help him.”
The Earl of Gorvan silently concurred with the Lioness but he kept his counsel. He didn’t know it, but in keeping it he had learned another lesson from the lioness. ‘Think before you act, or speak!’
~oo000oo~
Drustina finally makes her farewells to Connacht and resumes her circumnavigation of Hibernia. On the passage north she finds more bloody evidence of Norse duplicity.
The Mullet Peninsular where Drustina sheltered from the North-westerly storm.
The Angry Mermaid 111
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 111
By the time the duelling pair had crossed the butts and presented themselves at King Dal’s pavilion the field was a mass of cheering women all wanting to congratulate Una’s champion. They still counted Drustina as a member of the sisterhood. Fortunately as soon as the conquest was completed, King Dal had foreseen the potential for tumult and he had posted guards to keep a pathway clear to his platform. As the pair approached he called for calm and eventually got it. Once the noise subsided he spoke.
“You gave your opponent quarter Lioness; we were expecting blood.”
“I’m not in the business of butchery your majesty. My objectives have been realised so why waste a man’s life?”
“Your objectives Lioness; pray enlighten me.”
“The earl renounces his betrothal to the lady Dalgeish. He forgoes his claim to compensation after choosing trial by combat. However, despite his defeat, I believe that the word reconciliation should mean something. The sale of Una Dalgliesh as a bride was a crime committed as much by her father Sean Dalgliesh as it was committed by the Earl of Gorvan. I would therefore request that Your Majesty shows some degree of plurality here and sends a message that women are not for sale either as brides or servants.”
“What about dowries?” Dal asked.
“That should be something agreed by the bride and its value should remain the property of the bride even after being wed. I believe her father must learn his lesson as the earl has learned his.”
“Which is?”
“Earl Govan’s lesson was to learn to look before you leap your majesty.”
Dal chuckled softly for the Earl had certainly been presumptuous in assuming he could easily defeat a mere woman. He then asked about Una’s father.
“And Sean Dalgliesh’s lesson?
“The lesson is this. There is no price higher than a woman’s rights! Or a man’s for that matter. He should pay back the monies that the earl paid him.”
Dal nodded and smiled as he thought privately, ‘This woman is a true winner of men’s hearts!’ So he agreed the lioness’s terms.
“Very well Lioness, Sean Dalgliesh must return the monies to the Earl. Now to more pleasant proceedings; the marriage of my son Dorvan to the maid Una.”
He turned to his queen and she nodded with satisfaction for the Maid Una was certainly pleasing to the eye and she would bring fresh strong blood into their family. She smiled as she whispered to her husband.
“They are truly in love with each other and the maid brings mongrel vigour to our family stock. She will make a fine queen when their time comes. Yes Dal, I am more than happy for our son to marry her.”
Dal stifled a belly laugh as he whispered back.
“My God my lady, you speak like a bloody horse breeder but I take your point.”
He turned and smiled towards the young couple with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you both prepared to be wedded?”
“What! Now?!” Prince Dorvan gasped.
“It’s as good a time as any; the Lioness no less, can bear witness and time is of the essence for she is keen to be gone. The Bishop is on hand to perform it and her father is here to give her hand. Do you see any obstructions? Lady Una, are you happy to be wedded this very day?”
Una’s eyes widened with delight and Dorvan’s smile nearly split his face as Una flung herself into his arms. Drustina smiled for their feeling towards each other were obvious. The king stood up and glanced towards the Earl of Gorvan.
“Is there anybody here with reason to protest this marriage?”
There was not a single whisper from the earl or any of the assembled crowd so the king ushered the bishop forward. The holy man was a little flustered and he spoke firmly.
“Not here your majesty, not on a field where duels are fought and sometimes blood spilled. That is not the setting for a marriage for it creates a bad precedence. Let us go to the cathedral and do it properly before God in a place of peace and tranquillity.”
Drustina grinned; the man had a point, at least by the mores of his faith. King Dal grinned and announced to his bishop.
“Lead on your grace. Let’s get these lovers wed.”
And so they were.
Two days later, after a feast that doubled as Dorvan and Una’s wedding breakfast plus The Lioness’s farewell supper, the fleet of four Mermaid ships set forth to round the northern tip of Hibernia.
~o00o~
The navigators faced a stiff South-westerly breeze as they beat their way westwards down the Shannon estuary. Drustina studied the sky thoughtfully then pulled close alongside Carl and shouted.
“I don’t like the look of that sky.”
“D’you want to call it off and wait a few days?”
“If we keep doing that, we’ll probably end up over-wintering somewhere in Hibernia. Besides, once we’ve rounded the Loop head we’ll be going north and this South Westerly wind will speed our voyage. Let’s push on.”
Carl shrugged and pressed on as the Loop head loomed out of a rain squall that passed over the four ships and raced on eastwards up the Shannon. Even before they rounded the Loop, the four commanders could see the mountainous swells rolling down from the northwest. Each knew if a north-westerly gale got behind them it could set the seas into towering peaks. Without being ordered from Drustina, each commander started preparing their ships for the inevitable beating. Pr-prepared cattle-skins were stretched over the hooped supports to prevent heavier seas and excessive spray breaking over the freeboards. When they rounded the Loop they soon found their expectations being fulfilled. Their ships started rising and falling several meters as the swells rolled past and under them. Drustina calculated that they had perhaps a day before the threatening skies spewed forth the anticipated gale. At one stage, as Heliox tacked close under her stern, he called out.
“I would not like to be out in the storm that spawned these seas!”
“Neither would I,” Drustina agreed, “and it’s definitely coming soon. Hopefully we can get behind Ynys Arran before it strikes.”
“Well Brendan’s charts show plenty of islands to duck behind and plenty of deep inlets as well. We can take shelter at any number of places.” Heliox replied to add reassurance to his own and Drustina’s concerns.
“Yes, we’ll push on but keep a safe distance from the coast. Those rocks and cliffs would be lethal if we got horned in a bay. Look at those breakers on the north side of the Loop head. That spray must be splashing up some hundreds of feet high to reach over the tops of the cliffs.”
The sight cast a sobering thought in everyone’s mind and each commander was secretly grateful that the south-westerly wind put each Mermaid ship on a broad reach enabling them to make good and safe progress over the swells.
During the night, the anticipated gale held off and the four ships found they had made excellent if bumpy progress. As Dawn broke the four commanders concurred that the gale was imminent and likely to develop into a full-blooded storm. They decided it was imperative to seek shelter. In this they had much to thank for Brendan’s detailed charts. On the Angry Mermaid Drustina chuckled with her crew as they consulted the charts and tried to ignore the illustrations. Gisela stared at the strange creature tucked away in the top left hand corner.
“What’s that, it looks like some sort of seal with dragon’s wings?”
“Who knows,” Drustina shrugged. “There’s no knowing what lies out in the great sea. Don’t worry too much about creatures. Believe me when I tell you that out there on the waves, your biggest dangers are storms, thirst and hunger if you intend to cross the great ocean.”
“What about whales? Brendan said they were attacked by an angry whale.”
“The only whales I worry about are the big black and white ones. The bulls have a huge fin as high as a man and they are very dangerous if you upset them. It was probably one of those that took umbrage at St Brendan trespassing on his patch of sea.”
“He should have carried some whaling lances like the Stony Islanders do.” Gisela added. “They actually hunt whales.”
“Well, I’m not in the business of chasing whales or hunting them or eating them. I was once saved by some small whales during the battle with the Corsairs near Gibral. I count whales as my friends.”
Gisela gaped disbelievingly but did not dispute the Lioness. So far all of what the Lioness had told her had been shown to be true except when she openly admitted that she didn’t know or wasn’t sure. She fell silent as Heliox came close again to shout across the wave. Drustina was studying the high cliffs then shouted across to Heliox.
“I think that headland must be Achill and that northern one looks like the headland off the Mullet peninsular. There should be a deep sheltered bay between them and we’ll weather out this gale in its shelter. The approach looks wide and clear.”
Heliox studied his copied chart and frowned before bellowing back.
“Does this bay have a name? Only the entrance is marked clearly. There is no knowing what we will find inside the headland.”
“It matters not,” Drustina replied, “I’m more concerned about those clouds and this increasing storm. Nodens knows when it will abate and those cliffs wouldn’t offer any mercy to a stranded ship. Judging by the profile presented by that passage there’s got to be some sort of shelter behind that headland. Fire off a signal arrow.”
Heliox studied the gap between the headland of Aghill and the Mullet and agreed that the Lioness was making a justifiable move. The arrow was fired and the four ships hauled around to steer strait for the middle of the gap. The westerly wind took them quickly forward and they were pleased to see a large sheltered bay opening up to the north behind the Mullet Headland that was the southern tip of the Mullet peninsular.
“Fortune smiles on us,” Heliox remarked.
Drustina was about to riposte with some remark about experience and common sense but kept silent. She had had every expectation of finding some sort of shelter but was doubly pleased to find such a pleasing and sheltered prospect. In that much she was forced to agree with Heliox. The wide bay provided excellent shelter; it simply remained to find a satisfactory anchorage with good holding ground. She smiled as she looked across towards Carl’s ship to see his leadsman already arming his lead.
‘Probably sand around here She thought, ‘better prospects further up the bay where wave actions didn’t disturb the bottom so much.’ She called across to her beloved Carl.
“Bit ambitious aren’t you Saxon?”
“Just curious Dru. The coarseness of the sand might give us an idea of the intensity of wave action hereabouts.”
“I’m going right up as far as it’s safe to do so. If there are any settlements, they’ll be in one of the secondary bays deeper inland.”
Carl waved as the leadsman recovered his first cast and showed the bottom sample to his captain. It also indicated a reassuring depth. He shouted across...
“Coarse sand; as I expected!”
Drustina waved acknowledgement and each ship tightened sail to beat further up the bay. In the bow of each ship the leadsman was constantly sounding until Drustina saw a likely looking inlet that promised shelter from even the worst imaginable storm. She signalled to her commanders and prepared to anchor. This time each commander ‘chain stoned’ several substantial stone discs that is stone discs secured at intervals along the anchor rope to secure a strong hold on the sea-bed. Even as the stones splashed overboard, Drustina felt the first cold drops of rain and reached under the leather canopy to don an extra coat. Gisela grinned as she emerged from under the canopy with some hot soup and proffered it to her heroine.
“I wasn’t going to distract you while you were manoeuvring.”
Drustina smiled 'thank-you' and took the hot, welcome broth while The Angry Mermaid slewed around and brought up head to wind as the anchor cable (Rope to land-lubbers) took hold.
“D’you see any life ashore?” Gisela asked.
“Drustina peered towards the small inlet and shook her head.
“No. It doesn’t look very inviting; there’re no trees and it's pretty bleak. I suppose we’d better lower that new jolly boat King Dal gifted to us. It’s nice and light and it’ll be easy to lift over that cobbled shore. There seems to be turf above the splash line.”
The light leather boat was easily launched into the water and Drustina invited Carl and Udris to join her ashore. After a short row, the commanders stepped ashore and the boat returned to pick up others. Eventually about a score of them had landed and they started to spread out in search of a suitable camp site. It wasn’t long before a shout from Udris’s group alerted the others and they ran to join him. The site that they met with sickened them.
Where there had once been a tiny village was now only a cluster of burned hovels that lay amidst the scattered bodies of the villagers. Mostly men but a few women and no children.
Drustina stood staring mutely at the carnage and despite her many years of combat the sight still sickened her. The smell of burned flesh sent a retch of nausea through her belly. She did not vomit but came as near to as made little difference. Her men likewise stood sickened and silent for several minutes before their leader recovered her composure and gave more orders.
“Four stay here to gather the bodies while the rest fan out and search for survivors.”
After scouring the area for the rest of the day they concluded that if there were any survivors they must have abandoned the site and travelled further inland to seek shelter in another village. As dusk fell they lit a fire and set up camp. At dawn the following morning there was an alarm for the lookout shouted that he had spotted movement to the north. The whole camp roused about to face the unknown. Drustina set a patrol of six men to scout north which was the only direction likely to produce an attack. Her men had thoroughly scoured the whole of the peninsular to the south.
Eventually Carl returned with three terrified women who only relaxed when they saw Drustina and Gisela. It did not take long to confirm that Vikings had raided the settlement and forced the women to flee whilst the vastly outnumbered dozen or so village men had tried to stand and fight. The Vikings had raided only two days earlier and the confirmed number of ships identified the Vikings as probably the survivors from the failed attack on Limerick. The women’s story tallied with the evidence that Drustina’s men had found and arrangements were made to bring the escaped women survivors back to the camp.
Despite it having been the scene of carnage and the murder of their menfolk, the women recognised that Drustina’s camp was still the safest place. Some four score of armed warriors would easily protect them from the thirty or so Viking raiders who had attacked without warning. Once the women were calmed and made to feel safe they talked at length to the Lioness. They spoke of things that were wearisome familiarity to the Lioness, murder, rape, torture, kidnap and all the other usual crimes like theft, enslavement and many others. The lioness listened sympathetically for she fully understood what anguish it brought to the women.
Finally after they had exhausted their litanies of despair and the tears were slowly drying up, Drustina gently started to ask questions that were important to her like numbers and any snippets of conversations that might give pointers to where the raiders were bound. The Lioness needed to know if the raiders were returning around Scotia to Norvegia or if they were returning to Baile ar a Claith.
Through the evening the women spoke at length of all that they could remember until exhaustion overtook them. Drustina’s men were also tired for the stormy passage had taken its toll on sleep. Excuses were made as the survivors took advantage of the fire and shelter that Drustina’s men had fashioned. Drustina’s men slept as ever in their greased leather bags that were weatherproof enough for all but the most intensive deluges. The shelter also served to keep off the wind and cold for by now the storm was raging in its teeth.
Dawn brought the worst of the wind and rain with occasional flurries of sleet that caused much discomfort when men emerged from the warmth of their sleeping bags.
“Blasted weather!” Carl cursed as the inevitable call of nature forced him out of the bag he shared with Drustina.
She grinned and curled up cosily.
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night!”
Carl looked back and grinned.
“You’ll have to get out of there eventually, you can’t hold it forever!”
She grimaced and curled up only to feel another bag snuggle up to her bag as Gisela wriggled ‘grub-like’ to cwtch up. The girl grumbled light-heartedly.
“This is worse than Norwegian snow; it’s just so damp it cuts right through you.”
“Been out have you girl?” Drustina asked.
“Yeah I had to; I shouldn’t have drunk so much either.”
“You’ll learn,” the Lioness grinned.
“What time will breakfast be?” Gisela wondered.
“When you get out and attend to the fire you lazy bugger!” Drustina chuckled.
“Uugh, I was hoping the village women would do that.”
“They’ve got enough to worry about; the last thing they want is the added burden of four score of lazy warriors to cook for. We’ll fend for ourselves as we’ve always done on campaign.”
Eventually, Drustina was forced to vacate her warm bag and was secretly grateful that she could piss like a man if she wanted. She clenched the relevant muscles and stoppered the female plumbing whilst relieving herself before braving the icy stream to wash. She mused that the stream that was the reason d’áªtre for the settlement having been located there. It was purely a token wash to refresh her face and hands. Then she joined her companions to collect more driftwood and cook some food to stave off the cutting cold of the storm. Once the fire was blazing again and the shelters added to, the men gathered gratefully towards the warmth. They were contentedly eating their food when the village women approached them. They looked starved and bedraggled.
“Have you food enough for us?” Their spokeswoman asked. “The Norsemen stole all our stocks.
Drustina cursed but she could not see them starve. Feeding the women would leave them short and they would have to find more food later on at another settlement. The food issue was further compounded when the midday sun rose to its highest. More children and younger women arrived from various outlying hiding places. Carl turned to the Lioness.
“We can’t feed them all.”
Drustina nodded, Carl was right.
“Ask the women what food sources they usually exploit; I’m thinking of wild meat mainly; deer or boar.”
The women confirmed that the main sources of wild meat were fish and seals. The land was devoid of trees and therefore devoid of forest creatures. Drustina sighed as she set some men to fishing from the rocks and anchored ships. The wind was too strong to consider weighing anchor to go fishing. Others were sent with bows, arrows and spears to hopefully shoot a couple of seals. In this the storm benefited the hunters for the seals had sought shelter from the stormy surf and they lay unsuspecting on the rocks while the onshore gale took the scent and sound of the hunters away from the beasts. By evening they had enough meat to feed the survivors from the village for several days. Drustina was glad to have at least helped the women and she savoured the gratitude in their eyes, especially the eyes of the younger women who would have been easy targets for the Norsemen’s rapacity and greed.
The following morning the storm abated enough for the companions to set out past the Mullet headland and into the ocean proper as they resumed their circumnavigation of Hibernia. Two days later they entered the large settlement on the Oak grove inlet (Derry) and reported the news of the Norsemen’s raid.
This news caused consternation in Derry for it was generally presumed that the Local King O Neil had a treaty with the Norsemen. Drustina was more interested in buying food and ensuring that the local chief attended to the needs of the widowed villagers on the Mullet Peninsular. This done she wanted to take advantage of the westerly breeze that would speed them around the northern tip of Hibernia and into the Celtic Sea. Noon the next day found her fleet speeding eastwards then south to make excellent time towards the Lough of Belfast.
When they arrived the following day, they were not surprised to be met by an ambassador from the King O’Neill of Ulster. King Dal had obviously sent messages to the O’Niells for they were the most Powerful Celtic monarchy in Hibernia at the time. Drustina related all that she had encountered especially the Viking raid on the Mullet peninsular for this land was definitely part of the O’Niell kingdom.
As they parleyed in the great hall of the local chief, Drustina explained her fears to King O’Neill’s ambassador who was in fact the king’s younger brother.
“I suspect the Norsemen are planning to somehow surround your kingdom. The attack on Limerick and King Dal of Connacht was obviously a supposed to be a major step towards that ambition. They would then cut Hibernia in half and prevent your king from allying himself with Connacht or Lienster.”
Now that this was explained to the ambassador he nodded thoughtfully.
“We had a treaty with these people. How could they butcher a whole village?”
Drustina rankled slightly as she clarified his words.
“They didn’t butcher the whole village ambassador. They fought with the men and killed them in combat. The women and children had time to escape but they are in desperate straits now. They are short of food and men to hunt for meat. What’s worse is that the raiders stole all the villagers’ winter larder. If they are not to starve, you will have to despatch help soon. The citizens of Derry are helping even now but their resources are limited.”
“Damn those treacherous bastards! We had a treaty.”
Drustina shrugged and chewed thoughtfully on her bread.
“You don’t have to tell me about Norse treachery, but I want your promise you’ll sort out the problem on the Mullet Peninsular.”
“What drives them to such barbarity and greed?” The Ambassador wondered aloud.
Gisela stirred uncomfortably and Drustina sensed the girl was disturbed by something. She gently rested her sword-calloused hand on the young princesses’ shoulder.
“Come on girl, out with it.”
Gisela looked up and glared angrily.
“You don’t know anything about Norvegia it is much further north. You know nothing of the hardship and hunger, the wind and the cold, the snow and the rock!”
Drustina cursed.
“I know well enough of the damned cold though that was in Pola and Dane mark; as to bloody rock and barren land I’ve seen plenty of that as well! And we’ve all endured those cursed winds and snow.”
Gisela wagged her head angrily.
“Yes, all of these, but never all the time and all at once, year in and year out. Our people yearn for rich, valuable,fertile land.”
The lioness snorted derisively.
“Land! Land! Don’t talk to me of the value of land, I have lived with one ambition to recover my own family’s land but I’ve never stolen gold or silver, I’ve never killed for gold. Your people are greedy and murderous!”
It was Gisela’s turn to curse.
“I no longer count them as my damned people.”
“You may not count yourself as a Viking girl but they do ... and they are slow to forget.”
The ambassador’s jaw dropped as he turned to Drustina to confirm.
“Are you saying the bitch is a Viking?”
“She’s not a bitch, she’s a girl, and I’ll remind you she’s under my protection! You don’t know her story; I do.”
“Is she your prisoner?”
“Yes and no!”
“I don’t understand you!” The ambassador snapped.
“It’s simple. As far as you are concerned, Gisela is my prisoner.
“As far as Gisela is concerned, she is not my prisoner.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Drustina let out a long impatient sigh.
“I’ll put it simply. She enjoys my protection and she enjoys my pratique. Now there’s an end to it.”
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina has to resume her voyage before the risk of winter storms compel her to stay in port. She sails for Dumnonia but is beset by fog that makes for an interesting skirmish when she encounters a single Viking patrol.
The Angry Mermaid 112
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 112.
After the meal Drustina and her band took advantage of the hospitality offered by King O’Neill’s brother and they savoured a rare night in warm dry lodgings. Morning found them well rested but once again the autumnal weather had brought gales and rain so it was a reluctant band who stared out at the grey, dismal skies. Carl frowned and spat angrily at the increasing wind. It was a superstitious custom his people had long practised in the hopes of abating the cruel gale and rain.
Drustina smiled ironically.
“I’d have thought that custom would have angered the gods not pleased them.”
“Just getting my own back, you can’t beat the gods directly so you might as well get your own back another way.”
“I don’t see the logic in that but what do I know. Come on, let’s push on while the wind still has a westerly and northerly component, it’ll be the best wind for making southing in these waters. The faster we get past Bail ar y Claith and back into southern waters, the safer it will be. I’m gambling that this approaching gale will deter all but the most essential Viking activities on the waves.”
Udris looked up and grinned as he prepared to cast off.
“And what, pray Lioness would be deemed essential activities in this weather?”
“Well finding us might be somewhere up there high on their list. They’re bound to have warships patrolling off Baile ar y Claith and Ynys Fon. “ (Dublin and Anglesey in modern parlance.)
The three commanders turned to look expectantly as Carl remarked.
“Well Dru, we’re relying on your knowledge, these are your home waters.”
Drustina fell into a thoughtful silence as the three men waited. Finally she declared her provisional plan.
“The waters I know best are those around Ynys Fon. I was brought up sailing the waters of Menai and Mon, the tide rips around Madog’s arse and the stack rocks. The trouble is the Vikings will be well aware of this so I’m minded to avoid my own home waters because that’s where they will be expecting me to break through. On the Hibernian side there are many offshore sandbanks south of Bail ar y Claith, there is the Kish Bank and the Codling bank then further south there is the Arklow bank. However, it is a long time since I visited those waters and shoals when my father last sailed to Bail ar y Claith before the Vikings invaded the city after years of seemingly trading peacefully. It was one of the most blatant examples of Norse duplicity and it left us Cambrian Celts stunned. My objective is to try and slip through whatever preparations they’ve made using speed and stealth. I have one question that I must put to you however.”
The three commanders stirred expectantly as Drustina continued.
“Do we stick together or is it every ship for herself?”
A chorus of ‘Stick together!’ erupted not only from the three commanders but all the men as well. It gave Drustina a warm glow of satisfaction. Her own assessment had concluded that they stood a better chance of survival all together if they encountered a Viking patrol; the rest of her men obviously agreed.
With the strategy decided, the four ships made their farewells with the Ulster ambassador and set their sails to catch the favourable winds. The wind stood fair as they exited Belfast Lough and Drustina was relieved to clear the northern channel that served as the only northern entrance to the Celtic sea. Eventually the shores of Ulster and Scotia faded into the misty murk and Drustina chose to keep a middle course equidistant between the Isle of Mann and the Hibernian coast. To this end the rain proved helpful for it compelled the four ships to stick close together if they were to protect each other in the event of an encounter. Most of the time, the four ships were grouped in a circle less than quarter of a mile in diameter and able to pass audible messages. As long as the rain persisted and the strong wind held, the four could protect each other and continue relentlessly heading south. If men were not actively engaged in sailing duties or lookout, they sought shelter under the hooped leather skins that had become more or less permanent fixtures since rounding the Loop head, leaving Limerick.
When darkness fell on the first night the wind eased and a heavy fog descended. The four ships dropped their sails and passed long
ropes between each other to stay in touch. The first ship set a small trysail on her foremast while the last ship set a sea-anchor to keep the ships apart. During the night it rained and men were glad of the hooped leather skins that kept all but the lookouts dry. The much reduced visibility was a blessing though for it reduced the chances of being seen by Viking patrols. Conversely, the four ships could become separated if they were not tied together.
At the crack of dawn the fog persisted so the tie ropes were lengthened, the sails hoisted and the sea-anchor taken in as they resumed their journey south. Lookouts now had to listen as well as look for both Viking patrol ships and the booming of any breakers or surf. The fog was both a menace and a friend.
For Drustina the worries of command and leadership were never more onerous than the choices she now had to make. The fog had compounded problems because her initial choice of slipping down inside the banks on the Hibernian side was now a fearsome gamble. The Codling bank had rocky outcrops where a ship could smash herself to pieces if the sea was anything but glass calm. Making any sort of contact would be fatal. Further south however, the Arklow bank was all sand and it provided a good sheltered ‘inside’ passage all the way to the southern exit of the Celtic sea. Drustina was sorely tempted to take this gamble but the initial stages took them perilously close to the very heart of Baile ar y Claith and the Viking’s strongest base on the shores of the Celtic sea. If the fog cleared as they were level with the fortress, they would be exposed and certainly pursued. The Mermaids’ speed would be vital to escape pursuers but they could not risk racing blindly into any fog banks as they approached the Codling.
The option to pass by Ynys Mon was virtually a non starter for the Vikings almost certainly patrolled the North and South Stack headlands for any traffic hoping to slip by and enter the Saxon held stronghold of Deva. (Chester.)
The only other tactic was to consider the treacherous Straights of Menai but it would have to be done in fog or at night where Drustina’s unsurpassed local knowledge would give her a supreme advantage.
The decision proved too heavy a burden so Drustina finally hove to and had a long chat with her commanders. She laid out the risks and they took another vote. The result surprised even Drustina; the three commanders split three different ways. Carl favoured steering towards Ynys Fon and he pointed out they had three escape options, Sail south past the Stack heads, or sneak through the Menai or if it got serious they could dash east and take refuge in the huge Roman fortress of Deva.
Udris favoured slipping through the Hibernian offshore shoals and trusting to the fog to keep them hidden, the main advantage being that they could make fast progress once past the Kish and the Codling banks. With restricted sea-room and numerous shoals, the faster shallower mermaids would have a good chance of avoiding any Viking patrols.
Heliox favoured the direct route, straight down the centre. If the fog held there was a reasonable chance of simply slipping past any Viking patrols and then they would have an excellent chance of getting further south even faster than going inside the Arklow bank. The danger was that if they did meet a Viking patrol they would almost certainly have to fight and if the Vikings had sufficient sea room and sufficient ships, there was little prospect of Drustina’s flotilla surviving an encounter especially if the fog meant the contacts would already be close because of the restricted visibility.
Drustina’s shoulders sagged. The ball was firmly back in her court. The only benefit of a general consultation was that her options had been better delineated. She did a silent mental ‘harrumph’.
‘So much for the burdens of command!’ She mused. ‘Plenty of questions and no answers.’
She kicked the mast pulpit in frustration and stumbled aft to study the wake as Gisela stood nervous and silent by the tiller.
“What’s your course?” She asked.
“Still heading due south Lioness.”
Drustina fell silent as she debated which option to choose. After a few minutes she looked up at the sail as though seeking inspiration. It bellied sharply even as she looked and the snap of the material scattered the condensing fog droplets over the cowhide covers as men sat huddled and expectant.
‘Wind due north and increasing,’ she noted, ‘it will probably cause this fog to lift so we may as well take the third option that Heliox favours; wind straight up our arse and make a dash for it'.
She passed instructions to the commanders and settled to sit thoughtfully at the stern as Gisela tried not to become unsettled by the Lionesses’ close proximity. All business was conducted in whispers for though there was now a light breeze, the fog persisted unexpectedly. In the Angry Mermaid’s wake, the messenger boat skittered on the end of its painter. The noticeable wake warned Drustina so she passed a message to the boat.
“Warn the commanders I’m lengthening the tethers to their maximum and we’ll be invisible to each other. If anybody encounters a Viking ship, blow a short single blast on their signal their horn and we shorten up immediately to reinforce each other. Each ship is to make sure they can haul in their tethers.”
The small messenger boat loosed its painter and rode the snotter along the tether to drop astern of the angry mermaid and become invisible. A short while later, Drustina felt the tethers all soften as the catenaries absorbed the last of any shocks in the ropes. Eventually the messenger boat re-appeared astern as the two men hauled their way back along the tether to confirm to Drustina that the tactic was understood. Drustina tightened the sheets and gently the Mermaid gathered speed. Nothing as spectacular their normal service speed but they were making steady progress and every mile made undetected was a bonus.
Drustina watched with considerable satisfaction as The Angry Mermaid whispered easily over the modest waves. She was glad that the small breaking horses would deaden any noises the ship made cleaving the waves. Happy with their progress she curled up and slept. Gisela studied the foetal coil of graceful femininity and marvelled that anybody could sleep on so hard a deck with so many potential dangers around them.
Throughout the day, they saw nothing and as night approached, Drustina began to hope against hope that they might make it without having to swing a single sword or loose a single arrow.
Throughout the pitch-black night Drustina’s hopes continued climbing but eventually the dawn arrived and with it their worst enemy, daylight with the fog lifting. For Drustina, the only consolation was the distance won and the realisation that they had made southing without once hearing the sound of booming surf signalling dangerous reefs or cliffs. Gisela had long completed her trick at the tiller and Drustina spoke softly to the new steersman as she relieved herself over the stern.
She was glad to now have all four ships in visual contact so she ordered the steersman to steer South, south east in the hope of possibly spotting the rocky shores of Ynys Mon. In moderate visibility, the high, clearly defined cliffs of Ynys Mon were a much safer landfall than the uncertain offshore shoals of the Kish or Codling bank. Besides, she knew the coast of Ynys Mon like the back of her hand whereas she had only visited Bail ar y Claith but once as a fairly young child. As the fog thinned further, Drustina signalled to the others to release the tethers and each Mermaid was to come as close as was safe. Once the flotilla was clustered instead of being ‘strung out’, the whole band felt safer but free'er. It also made the lookout’s jobs easier because each lookout was able to scan different sectors and reduce the potential for surprise.
They adopted a ‘diamond’ formation with The Angry Mermaid at the front and settled down to making all possible speed. Unlike her lookouts constantly scanning the forward and beam horizons, Drustina spent her time watching her companion ships and constantly exchanged predetermined hand signals with her commanders.
It was mid afternoon when Drustina heard the sound she had been expecting but dreading. A soft call from her starboard bow lookout alerted her to his pointing arm. It led her gaze to the familiar sight of a Viking longship.
“Damn! I was so hoping!”
“Are we going to have to fight?” Gisela asked, her nervousness causing her voice to crack.
“I don’t know. It’s a numbers game. How many Viking ships are there?”
“I can’t see. So far there’s only one.”
Drustina smiled.
“No Gisela, it was a rhetorical question. If we are outnumbered, I’m going to try and run for it. If we outnumber them, I’ll have a look at it.”
Drustina raised her arms to catch the attention on Heliox, Udris and Carl. Once they signalled they had seen her she brought her hands to the top of her head to signal ‘close up’. Gisela watched and felt a sense of comfort at the thought of having so many battle proven men around her. She recalled the bickering, swaggering braggarts who had accompanied her on her first and only foray south. There had been no co-ordination, no co-operation and little if any effective communication. Their very first attempt to capture a prize, a single ship under the white cliffs of Dover had ended in utter calamity as Drustina’s squadron had unexpectedly appeared with a well organised, well executed attack.
Now again Gisela was free to watch and learn as to how exactly Drustina’s flotilla had become so effective. Within a couple of minutes, the formation was lined up with Angry Mermaid in the van while the others followed in close rear order in line with the sight-line between Drustina and the Viking longship. In the bow of Angry Mermaid Drustina’s lookouts strained to locate any other longships and failed. Suddenly the starboard lookout called.
“She’s altered course, she coming straight for us. I can’t see any others.”
Gisela turned to look back at the other three ships and realised they were trying to remain as invisible as possible. Drustina remarked scathingly about the Viking's unpreparedness.
“They weren’t keeping a decent lookout; they’ve probably been out on patrol too long. He didn’t even notice us until after we’d adopted our inline formation. What’s the betting he still isn’t sure how many ships we are?”
Even as she spoke, she gently levered Gisela’s hand off the tiller and turned the Angry Mermaid to steer straight towards the approaching longship. Running free enabled Drustina to set the sails to make the widest image and thus block any proper view of her three companions from the approaching longship. Gisela watched and felt her fingers unconsciously grip the rail as the Viking ship confirmed Drustina’s suspicions. The longship paid off in an attempt to get a good look behind the approaching trespasser. It was obvious by his give-away mistake that he wasn’t sure how many ships there were in Drustina’s formation.
“He’ll regret that move.” Drustina smiled evilly. “He’s brought himself even closer to the wind and he’ll be putting himself in Irons if he tries to turn away and escape once he realises how many there are of us. Now if I juu-uust come round a bit more to keep his view blocked we’ll get just that much closer before he realises he’s outnumbered.”
As she altered to starboard a bit more, she nodded to the line’s-man to slacken sail and keep the Mermaid’s profile as wide as possible. It was a fine line between slowing slightly whilst allowing the flotilla to get collectively closer whilst remaining invisible. The cat and mouse move repeated it’ self once more before the angles became impossible to cover and the Viking finally realised he was severely outnumbered. Drustina turned to catch Gisela’s grinning realisation. The Viking’s earlier inattention to his lookout combined with his arrogant assumption that he was the master of the seas had caused him to put himself at a hopeless disadvantage. As his ship finally cleared the obstructed vision line he realised he was trapped. If he turned to starboard he would sail straight into the jaws of the approaching Mermaids whilst if he tried to turn to port, he would have to bring his head through the wind and that would put him in irons and helpless to withstand any sort of approach by the enemy.
Forced to act quickly he chose the former option that would guarantee a furious fight and at least he would be able claim he had fought bravely when he came to the gates to Valhalla. Drustina sighed.
‘Why did the stupid bastards always have to prove they were brave?’
She signalled the other ships to prepare for combat and a well oiled machine quickly went into action.
Carl slewed out of the line to starboard and drew level with Drustina while Udris did the same to port. Heliox remained close astern in readiness to deal with any unexpected eventualities. All four ships had the weather eye and were free to take whatever course they chose. Gisela found herself looking at Drustina with a new respect.
Like wolves falling on a crippled deer the mermaids pounced on the longship and battle was over almost before it began. The Angry Mermaid came up on the steering-board side of the longship where she attacked the steersman and commander with bows. The steersman fell to the first salvo and Drustina offered quarter. The Vikings cursed her and called to their gods to alert them of their imminent arrival at the gates of Valhalla. Drustina shrugged wearily for it would be an easy victory. A second salvo of arrows whistled across the waves and the captain was struck in the leg. He let out a loud roaring challenge demanding that the cowardly bitch face him in single combat. Drustina was having none of it. A third salvo of arrows was complemented by salvos from Carl and Udris’s ships and the crew were decimated. The captain received a second arrow in the same leg but it only slowed his actions as he continued to show defiance. Drustina became impatient so she called for her precious bow. Gisela watched with curiosity as the Lioness took careful aim and sunk a shaft into the man’s belly.
“That’ll shut him up, but he’ll die slowly.”
“Why don’t you kill him quickly?” Gisela asked.
“I need him to take a message back to his king in Baile ar y Claith.
“What message?”
“A warning to tell him to get out of southern Britannia; that is Hibernia, Dumnoniia, Cambria and Mann.”
“That will require a battle.” Gisela mused.
“I’m nearly ready for that but for now my task is to return to Wessex and help prepare an army.”
A brief study of the long ship told Drustina that it was no longer a threat. Carl and Udris had boarded the vessel and were holding the last surviving Vikings as prisoners. All were wounded and Drustina wagged her head resignedly as she asked herself,
‘Would these Norsemen ever change their ways. There were some half decent young men amongst the crew and to kill them seemed a waste’.
She decided not to geld them because she had neither the time nor the medicine men to do it. Instead she started writing her letter to the Viking occupier of Baile ar y Claith ready to nail it to the longship’s mast. Then she had her men cut of the left little finger off each survivor to tell the king that she could have killed all the young men. Having explained this in her message she prepared to leave.
As her companions were gathering anything useful from the Longship Gisela suddenly gasped. The Lioness looked up from her writing and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
Gisela pointed her finger.
“That one, the one with red hair! He’s a second cousin of mine, I know him. May I talk with him?”
“Be my guest; make sure he has not got a hidden weapon.”
Gisela stepped lightly across to the longship as One of Udris’s men stepped forward to ensure her safety. Drustina watched her talking earnestly then remonstrating with the young man. Eventually, she returned to Drustina’s side and asked.
“Can I add a note to that letter?”
Drustina handed the Viking princess a quill.
“Write in that corner. I’ve nearly finished. What were you arguing about?”
“He called me a traitor and a sorceress! I want to let my father know why I have joined your side.”
“How will you do that?”
“He is gathering his forces north of Yorvik and getting ready to pounce either on Nottingham or Deva.”
“How did you discover that?”
“My cousin was bragging that he’ll return and punish me and turn me into a real woman. When I scoffed at him he blurted out that Harald Cold Blood was already preparing and he’d be at his uncle’s side in the Van of the attack. He’s vowed to have your head.”
There was a snort followed by a chuckle that announced Carl’s appearance.
“You’ll need more heads than the Hydra Dru! That must be the hundredth warrior to claim your head.”
She giggled as she reached up to his outstretched arms and they hugged tenderly as their lips met. Despite her sapphism, Gisela felt a pang of envy. For all his size and power, Carl could show the tenderest emotions.
‘Why can’t all men be like him?’ She wondered.
Drustina caught her looking and smiled as she reinforced her claim on Carl by tightening her embrace.
“Aye and that’s a fact Saxon. Are we ready to resume our journey?”
“Yes. We’ll send these careless idiots back with their tails between their legs; weaponless and witless.”
After completing their letters, Drustina nailed her letter to the mast with clear instructions that it be handed to the Viking king of Dublin. Minutes later, the flotilla was speeding south but still keeping a sharp eye.
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina and her flotilla finally make it to Dumnoniia (Cornwall) and she is compelled to make port for repairs,
The Angry mermaid 113
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 113
http://www.celtnet.org.uk/brythonic-tribes.html
The flotilla kept to its approximate diamond formation as it made good progress south. Out of the North Channel, skirting the Isle of Mann, past Ynys Fon (Anglesey) and Bail ar y Claith (Dublin) and onwards past southern Cambria to the Domnoniia peninsular.
That evening, Drustina stared longingly at the familiar ridge of hills and rocks that were her homeland. To be so near and yet be so far, sent a stab of almost intolerable hiraeth through Drustina’s very core. She reflected silently;
‘Would she ever see those hills and forests ever again, should she perhaps risk a fleeting visit to one of the few tiny villages where she could see a few wisps of smoke from her people’s hearths.’
Then she concluded reluctantly and angrily.
‘No! Much though she craved such an adventure, it would have put her companions in unnecessary danger just to satisfy her own selfish craving!’
Reluctantly she dragged her eyes to the southern horizon and bid a sad farewell to the familiar hills and the feint images of the mountains beyond. The hurt of doing so only served to harden her resolve.
~o00o~
The unseasonal breeze made for good sailing weather and several sails were spotted as they sped on their way. However such was the mood of fear throughout the Celtic sea, those single sails chose to keep well clear of four strange ships racing south. Two days later Drustina and her companions were relieved and pleased to spot the extreme end of the Dumnoniian peninsula. The westerly wind set them fair to round the familiar headland while both Udris and Drustina paid heed to the several deadly reefs that lay in wait for the unwary. The Celtic pair shepherded their companion commanders between the headland and the islands then set an easy course for the southernmost tip of their island home.
As they steered to pass around the Lizard, the sea started to set up and the wind increased. Udris came in close to speak with Drustina for the tide race was setting the increasing winds and waves against the tide causing the sea to break and get rough. He called across the water.
“It looks like a storm is coming, would you consider sheltering in my home port of Bohor or are you pushing on?”
Drustina was in two minds. It would have been nice to shelter from the storm and savour some Dumnoniian hospitality but she was desperate to get back to Solanta and the Wessex King. Then the decision was made for her. Across the water there came a sharp crack and they turned to see Heliox’s main mast tumble overboard. Drustina cursed and replied to Udris.
“It seems the gods have chosen to put all of us into the Val. Let’s go and help him.”
Heliox still had his foresail so, with the westerly wind, he was able to make reduced speed. Carl threw a line to carry a tow-rope to Heliox and they started making a more respectable speed. They sailed into the estuary and eventually the four ships docked on the familiar quay of the town of Bohor. Udris’s face lengthened with concern as they secured their ships and stepped ashore to find the town in a sombre mood. Udris accosted a young lad out of the crowd who had gathered to look at the new arrivals.
“Boy, I am Udris, nephew of Penderol why is everybody sombre, and why are there no adults here?”
The young lad glanced uncertainly then explained.
“They are burying Penderol at this very moment. He died four days ago.”
Udris’s jaw clenched with disappointment.
“Damn! Well it’s to be expected, he was getting on. Who is the new chief?”
“The citizens will meet tomorrow.”
Udris’s eyes widened with some relief.
“Thank the gods. So I and my men will get a vote. Truly our arrival has been timely. Come let us attend the funeral. All the townspeople will be gathered.”
Drustina and her commanders accompanied Udris and his Dumnonii crew as they hurried to the church. Being a high ranking officer of the town, Udris simply walked unthinkingly into the church to cause gasps of confusion amongst the gathered mourners by the door had had entered. He hesitated momentarily then turned to a familiar, wrinkled face at the door.
“What’s the problem?”
“We heard you were dead!”
Udris snorted derisively.
“Well obviously I’m not!”
“And thank the gods for that!” The old man sighed.
“Explain.”
“The vote for the new chief is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Well it was more-or-less a foregone conclusion. Sadraw was expected to become chief.”
“Sadraw!” Udris almost choked on the name. “Sadraw! By the gods, that usurious bastard is as twisted as a serpent’s tail!”
Faces were beginning to turn as Udris’s whisper almost became a croak of disbelief.
“They can’t possibly ...!”
He realised he was almost squawking with disbelief and he quickly returned to the whisper.
“How the hell did he ever get nominated!?”
“There are many men who owe him money. The harvest was bad this summer. People had to borrow money to buy grain for bread to get through the winter. It is an open vote and everybody who is indebted must either vote or repay their loans.”
Udris swore softly then asked.
“But any lender must wait at least two growing seasons before foreclosing a food debt! That’s the law; or at least, it was.”
“Not now, times are hard and corn is scarce.” The old fellow replied. “There are very few men to enforce the law anyway.”
Udris turned to Drustina with a raised eyebrow and Drustina nodded affirmation. The question did not even need to be asked. He continued whispering to the old man.
“So where are Penderol’s men? It’s their duty to enforce the law.”
“Some are indebted to Sadraw. Penderol was very feeble in his final months and things sort of ran away from him. Sadraw moved cunningly.”
“Not all of them are in debt to him though surely. “
“Enough. There was a fire in the town’s granary. Many families lost their winter store.”
Udris frowned thoughtfully.
“A fire. But the barn is mostly stone. That’s what makes it rat and mouse proof.”
“Sadraw had rented some space. He was storing olive oil.”
“Oil!”
“He paid a good rent for the space, then one morning there was a fire, it spread to the oil and the whole place became an inferno.”
Udris nodded sagely then turned to Drustina.
“It stinks.”
Drustina returned the nod.
“Not here though. Not at your uncle’s funeral. Sound out the town. See what the townspeople think.”
Udris wagged his head then made his way down the aisle as heads turned and the whispers grew to a commotion. The priest stopped as Udris approached his uncle’s coffin then looked around to see if any of Penderol’s sons were present. Only Penderol’s daughters were there, Udris was puzzled so he approached them and they cringed uncertainly. Udris reassured them.
“It’s not a ghost, I’m not dead. Where are your brothers?”
The oldest girl replied.
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Drowned. There was a storm when they were crossing back from Brithony. The other men said their ship seemed to spring a leak and it sank with a load of corn they had bought.”
“Are you saying all your brothers were in the same ship?”
She nodded then fell silent. Udris turned to Drustina as mourners began to recover from the sudden appearance of their favourite son accompanied by the legendary lioness. The pair approached the priest as Drustina sensed Udris’s deepening anger. She spoke in his stead to avoid an incident.
“Holy man, in the brief time we’ve been back we have learned some disturbing news. This is neither the time nor place to address things. But after the funeral flames I would talk with you.”
The priest stiffened that a woman no less should address him so perfunctorily.
“On what authority?” He demanded.
“This authority.” She replied softly as she tapped her sword over her shoulder.
The priest shrank visibly and a pregnant silence descended throughout the church. Drustina tapped Penderol’s coffin.
“Shall we continue and show him the respect he deserves?”
This served as an escape for the priest to recover his dignity. Drustina stood aside and Udris stepped up to claim his right as Penderol’s closest male relative to offer the beseechment to their god for the dead chief’s soul. He casually claimed this right by approaching his own second cousin and pointing to the holy oil in his hand.
“This is my duty I believe, I am Penderol’s oldest nephew and all his sons are reported dead.”
The man nodded and handed the vial of oil. Udris stepped up to the coffin and waited while the priest performed the last rites. Finally, to the accompaniment of much chanting and wailing, Udris sprinkled the oil on the coffin and it was removed to a funeral pyre on the foreshore. There Udris and many others poured copious amounts of additional oil over the pyre. Then in the ancient tradition, Udris set a flame to it. The pyre ignited with a whoosh and he had to leap back to save himself from being scorched. He yelped with shock as his clothes ignited and Drustina acted with alacrity as she ripped a cloth from the food table and knocked him to the floor. She flung the cloth over him but he was twitching too violently and she had to yell for help. Several men pounced on Udris and the flames were quickly extinguished. He finally scrambled to his feet cursing.
“Shit that was close. What the hell happened?”
Drustina was watching the flames and wondering. The pyre had certainly ignited with surprising suddenness. She glanced around to see one of the mourners still holding his pot of camphor. He was staring stupidly at the flames so she approached him quietly.
“You’d best step further back or that pot might catch.”
He gaped stupidly at her then realised what she was saying.
“It just went whoosh. You saw it!”
“Yes, I did, that’s why I want to smell that pot. What funerary oil do you use in Dumnoniia?”
“Camphor, here look.”
He held out the pot as Drustina led him though the crowd. Once away from the commotion of Udris’s accident she took the pot and sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled and she coughed at the pungency.
“It smells like camphor but there’s something else. Something like a spirit, but it’s too similar. I’ve smelt it before but I can’t quite place it, I ... hold on ... turps! That’s it, turpentine!”
She sniffed it again then dipped her finger and carefully touched her tongue. She grimaced and shuddered.
“Uuurgh, it’s too spicy for camphor but less aromatic than turpentine. I can’t quite place it.”
“The mourner copied Drustina then frowned.”
“I’ve smelt this before.”
“Where, when?”
“The compound of Sadraw.” He moved his olive oil to the town granary to make room for this ... is it oil?”
“No, it’s a spirit. I thought at first that it was turpentine but it’s not. Let’s go and visit Sadraw’s compound.”
The mourner pursed nervous lips.
“It’s well protected. You’ll need back-up.”
Drustina wagged her head in slight amusement.
“How many?”
The mourner realised how fatuous his remark had been and he let his smile broaden.
“Oh. Of course, you are the lioness.”
Drustina nodded and motioned the mourner to follow her to the quay. Once among her companions, Drustina felt safer talking to her own. There she passed the pot of oil amongst her men whilst asking.
“Anybody recognise this.”
Eventually one of Carl’s followers, (a man named Vindar who Drustina recognised as having been with them since the days of the Corsair battles) stepped forward slightly uncertainly.
“I traded between Rome and the Rhone delta. We carried this or something very like it; not Camphor but we called it Camphane or Camphine. Some thought it was the same but others said it was two different natures. Either way they are both a spirit and not oil, well not Camphor oil. We always had to air our ship after carrying it. Inside the holds, the air was bad and men got dizzy and died if they were not careful. Nasty stuff Lioness but not poisonous if taken frugally, it actually makes you feel drunk. Oh, and as you will have gathered, it burns very easily; sometimes it can jump across if the smell is strong enough. If the weather is hot in the hold and a jar or pot gets broken you can see the vapours in the sunlight; then it is very dangerous. We used to sluice down everything and make it wet.”
Drustina nodded and motioned to Gisela to get some pyrites from her pouch. The crewman produced some straw and tipped some of the liquid over it. Then he stoppered the jar carefully and stood back as he motioned to Gisela.
“Make your spark princess but stand back and don’t lean over the straw.”
Gisela did as instructed and with the first fat spark the straw ignited with a whoosh. It was all the evidence Drustina needed. She was beginning to think the fire in the town granary was not entirely an accident. As they moved quickly to capture Sadraw’s compound Drustina talked to Carl and his Saxon crewman who knew about the Camphane.
“This stuff should never have been stored with the town’s corn. It’s lethal. D’you think Sadraw might have deliberately put it there to sabotage the town’s winter store?”
Carl nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s what I was thinking, make it look like an accident, indeed it might well have been an accident if other town’s folk did not understand the nature of this Ca ... Camph ...”
“Camphane or Camphine,” the crewman finished, “and your right, we never carried it or stored it near other cargoes. In the Rhone Delta we even had a separate quay and store for all those spirits we knew to be dangerous.”
Drustina nodded then signalled for silence as they approached Sadraw’s compound.
The structure was well constructed but like many places in peacetime, poorly guarded. A quick reconnoitre told Carl and Drustina all they needed to know. They carefully positioned their men then Drustina disguised herself as a townswoman and approached the guard on the gate asking to buy some oil for cooking. He eyed the attractive visitor lasciviously then opened the gate to admit her. As she passed him, he made an attempt at copping a feel of her breasts. It was the excuse she was looking for to create a commotion that attracted the attention of the other guards who had been playing dice in the guardhouse instead of attending properly to their duties.
Her angry curses brought the sergeant and the other men running out of the guardhouse to find Drustina remonstrating with the original guard as he tried to shut her up. They gathered around grinning which was a bonus for Drustina’s plan. Now she had the guards where she wanted them ... staring fixatedly at the seemingly comical scene of the guardsman trying to shut the viperfish girl up. Once she noticed all the guards grinning at her seeming plight she let out a scream and screeched the password ‘bastard!!’ loud enough for Carl and the men to hear outside the wooden palisade.
The pre-occupied, predatory guard had left the gate open and unattended thus allowing two score armed men to slip silently behind the group of grinning guardsmen and take them completely by surprise. As one of the guardsmen realised they had been attacked the others span around to find themselves totally outnumbered and unprepared. The guard who thought he had a simple wench in his grip now made a move to grab her more firmly by her clothes. Drustina recognised she now had the advantage of surprise. As he glanced uncertainly at the invaders he decided to re-adjust his grip on the wench but suddenly the ‘wench’ turned into something altogether different!
She twisted easily in his grip such that her chemise ripped to expose a ripe breast. As his gaze was distracted by the luscious presentation, her dagger appeared firstly in her hand then secondly in his stomach. It was the only casualty of the operation for the other guards had quickly realised they were surprised and outnumbered by a vastly superior force. The guard collapsed at Drustina’s feet as his companions turned to stare disbelievingly at the blood spilling from his split belly while the ‘wench’ stood over him as she slowly (and provocatively) tucked her breast back into her ripped chemise.
It was apparent to all that the belly wound was deep and fatal but it would take the guard some time to die for nobody had the skills to repair the injuries. He writhed and moaned for help but none was forthcoming. Once again, the Lioness’s enemies were learning that beneath the attractive exterior lay a ruthless and determined nature. As she finally made herself presentable she turned to the now disarmed, sergeant of the guard.
“You’d better find one of your holy men to attend to this creature; it’s not long for this world.”
Then she turned to the captured guards.
“Just take note. Where I go, men learn to respect women or suffer the consequences.”
The guards were secured in the guardhouse while Drustina, Carl and Heliox inspected the materials stored in the warehouse. They wagged their heads in disgust as they assessed the hoard. Heliox summed up their conclusions in a few words.
“And the townspeople were going hungry while this sat in their very midst. Sadraw is a thief and a usurer.”
Carl turned to a couple of his crew and asked them.
“Go and find the bastard, he’s probably at the funeral feast! Oh and tell Udris as well, this will be all the ammunition he’ll need to stop Sadraw’s ambition in its track.”
~~oo000oo~~
The Angry Mermaid.
Drustina finally returns to Ethelred, the Saxon King of Wessex where they finalise their plans to defend against the anticipated Viking invasions. Chester (or the old Roman fortress city of Deva is deemed to be the most likely place where Harald Cold-blood will attack.
The Angry mermaid 114
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 114.
http://www.planetware.com/tourist-attractions-/chester-eng-c...
Ancient Roman fort at Deva.
Compare how the original roman walls match the modern day surviving medieval walls. Chester was a huge major Roman fort, possibly one of the largest in the whole Roman empire.
The finding and revelation of Sadraw’s hoard of food plus the evidence that he had stored not olive oil but camphene in the town’s warehouse was enough to turn the townspeople against Sadraw. Especially when they realised that Sadraw should have stored his camphene in his own warehouse and stored his hoard of corn in the town granary. That way he would not have endangered and indeed destroyed the townspeople’s winter store.
The suspicion that he might have been deliberately careless grew from possibility to probability and those suspicions were enough convince the townspeople that even without hard proof of malicious intent, Sadraw should not have placed his spirit store in the town granary. Udris also let it be known that if he was elected chief, the old and still valid laws of two years grace to clear a food or harvest debt would be reinstated and enforced.
This last edict was enough and Udris was elected with an overwhelming majority. Drustina stayed only long enough to see Udris elected as chief and thus ensure his support when she came the following year in the spring to gather a fleet to hopefully meet with the Vikings and, if successful, finally rid her own and the Hibernian lands of the Viking yoke. Her parting words left Udris in no doubt of his debt.
“I would suggest you build as many ships as you can and prepare for war. We must clear our islands of this damned scourge once and for all.”
~o00o~
“Udris still stood thoughtfully on the dock even as Drustina’s flotilla disappeared around the headland bound up the Britannia channel for Sotona and Winchester the capital of Wessex. Then he spun around to attend to his first council as the new chief. His first duty was a pleasant one as he handed out penalties to Sadraw that pleased a population who had been in debt to the usurer. He was ruled guilty of negligence for storing a dangerous spirit where the town’s only store of essential winter food was held. He was made to forfeit his own hoard as compensation to the townsfolk and farmers who had lost their stored food in the fire.
Throughout the whole time Udris sat in judgement, he found himself constantly thinking of the Lioness and wondering ... ‘what would she do? How would she handle this? Would she let the council take a vote or would she have made the decision herself'?
By the end of his first session Udris was exhausted and as he sat slumped by his hearth, he stared into the flames reflecting on the burden of leadership. With each new, lonely thought he found himself respecting the Lioness more and more. As he placed some more logs on the fire he was disturbed by a slow shuffled footfall and he turned to find Thurion his uncle’s old chamberlain. Udris grinned partly with relief and partly because he had company. The old man croaked hoarsely.
“You did well in the council chamber Udris. The people respected you counsel.”
“Thank you Thurion. And now here I sit, alone at my hearth while others celebrate their release from debt and penury.”
“It’s lonely at the top Udris your uncle always ...”
“Oh you don’t have to tell me that Chamberlain. The Lioness taught me that long ago. Every time I spoke in there, her words kept echoing in my mind.”
“Yes. You had a fine teacher. The tall Saxon has a diamond for a wife.”
“And he has a dazzling diadem for a leader. I hope I can emulate her in my own small way.”
“Would you eat alone tonight or join me with my wife.”
Udris sagged.
“Yes, I would welcome that It would be nice to have company, wise company that is; somebody whom I can trust. Thank you. “
The old chamberlain nodded then added.
“My bones are getting old, I’ll give you what advice I can but I cannot advise you on taking a wife.”
Udris was startled at the old man’s perspicacity.
“What made you think of that?! How did you know what I was thinking?”
“That’s why I am deemed wise Udris. I served your uncle for many a year. I saw you there as I entered, staring into the flames, pensive and wistful. You were lonely and I’m betting you’re missing the Lioness’s company.”
“I’m missing them all Chamberlain. We were a fine band, loyal and true. She is a wonderful leader; we would follow her through hell and back.”
“And now you want for a wife, a wife like her; a wife to warm your lonely bones tonight. There are plenty of women of respectable birth here in the town. Shall I make inquiries?”
Udris wagged his head.
“Naaah. I don’t want a comely wench just to bear my children and warm my bones. I want a wife like the Lioness.”
Thurion smiled and wagged his head.
“You’re not asking for much are you?”
“Oh there’s one, I met her in Wessex; she’s a ward of the Lioness, an orphan and a victim. Just the sort of girl the Lioness reaches out to help ... and no, she’s not the Viking princess, pretty though Gisela is; it’s not her.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Not now, when I go to Wessex in the spring I’ll make my offer to her then. There are a lot of loose ends to be tied up before we gather our forces for war. Ships to build for instance.”
“War!” Thurion sighed wearily. “Is it to be war again?”
“Until the Viking question is settled it will always be war. The Lioness presents our finest opportunity yet to rid these islands of the robber thanes of Norvegia. Dumnoniia will never be free of the threat.”
“Thurion changed the subject.”
“How many ships do you hope to build?”
Udris poked the fire.
“I’ll be happy if I can add a couple of mermaids. They’ll add usefully to our current fleet. I’m just glad we can muster enough ships not to embarrass ourselves. The loss of my cousin’s ship and my three cousins was a big enough disaster.”
Thurion nodded sadly.
“They overloaded their ship trying to get enough grain to feed the whole town. It was a huge loss in every respect, good men, good food and a sound fighting ship. I’m only glad you turned up in the nick of time. My books show you could easily afford to build three and possibly even four ships.”
Udris sighed.
“Naa-aah! We are going to have to repair the stone barn and also build another one. We don’t want another disaster like Sadraw’s oil. The new barn’s a necessity and it has to be well separated from the old one to avoid both catching firs or flooding or whatever. That’s going to cost the public purse a pretty penny.”
Thurion smiled philosophically.
“Spoken like a true chief. You’ve learned the first lesson of statesmanship. It’s all about the money.”
Udris grinned and as he rose from the hearth.
“And I always thought Penderol spent too much of his time in the counting house. Now I know why.”
“More taxes my chief?”
The irony in Thurion’s remark was not lost on Udris as he choked back a snort.
“Not bloody yet Chamberlain. Let me have at least one day of popularity with the townspeople!”
They strolled across the square to surprise Thurion’s wife. For a moment she was all prepared to scold her hapless spouse until she realised their guest was the new chief.
“Why didn’t you warn me he was coming?” She demanded angrily of Thurion while simultaneously turning to Udris and ushering him in with a smile.
Thurion tried to explain to his wife.
“I didn’t know he was coming until a few moments ago. How could I warn you dear?”
“That’s no excuse! You must have been expecting to have him as a guest if you went to see him without him expecting you!”
The bizarre logic left even Thurion floundering as he turned and shrugged apologetically to his new chief.
“Are you sure you still want a wife Udris?”
~o00o~
While Udris savoured the warmth of his chamberlain’s hearth and dined on the bounty of Thurion’s table, his companions bound for Sotona were enduring the first snows of the winter. The north-westerly gale pressed hard to their sails and the ships at least were steadied by the constant pressure of the wind. Fortunately the seas were not too large either, for the southern coast of Britain gave them a weather shore with little fetch that enabled them to drive close inshore to avoid any larger waves. However the northerly component brought cold arctic air and penetrating snow-born winds that bit deep even through their thick leather coats. Drustina shortened the watches from four to two hours so that men were not frozen to the bone and made incapable by the cold. Even so all of them cursed the penetrating chill and were grateful to return to the leather shelters amidships. Anything to escape the biting ague that only a warm dry bed could cure. Fortunately the broad reach gave them good speed and two days later a chilled but elated band of sailors arrived at the Solanta narrows and gratefully secured their ships in the safe harbour that Sotona offered.
“Tha ... thank the gods that’s over!” Drustina cursed. “Bugger sailing in winter, bugger the snow, bugger the cold, and bugger the ice! I’m for a hot stew and a warm dry bed.”
This was a sentiment unanimously shared by all and as soon as their ships were secured, all the men set about finding shelter from the snow and wind. The water front of Sotona had grown with the advent of ‘Pax Drustina’ in Southern Britannia and several large inns had been built
Drustina initially planned to spend the first day ashore in a warm dry inn before she and her companions were ready to face the trudge through the snow from Sotona to Winchester. However, when the weather closed in again, they decided to wait out the storm and eventually they remained in Sotona for a week kicking their warm but idle heels. Drustina was glad of the rest and spent most of her time availing herself of her Saxon spouse. Warm beds, loving cuddles and full bellies were always to be preferred over cold marches, lonely nights and hard battles. Eventually however, the storm blew it’s self out and as the skies cleared to produce a rich blue celestial sphere, the companions hastened to set forth upon the road. There was no knowing when the next storm would sweep in from the north.
They hired horses to make better progress through the snow and Drustina was pleased to feel the hard clip-clop of a metalled road under the soft snow. It told her that King Ethelred had taken her words to heart and set about improving the roads. There was also a new inn half way between Sotona and Winchester. It was a welcome break from the snow and cold. Drustina decided to overnight there.
The next day they arrived in Winchester in the early afternoon. After a euphoric reunion with her sister Tara, her children and Symone, Drustina reported to King Ethelred in his castle. She was pleased to also meet Althred who had been newly promoted to Saxon admiral. In Ethelred’s private chambers, Drustina and her commanders revealed all their intelligences about the discontent among the native Celtic peoples of Hibernia. Ethelred was relieved upon two counts.
Firstly he knew that with Drustina on his side he could be fairly sure at least of Celtic neutrality; if not outright support. Secondly Drustina’s own skills would add enormously to his military strengths. After two days of talks, Ethelred was much happier and more confident about facing the Vikings. Most importantly, he had some vital extra intelligence about Harald Coldblood’s plans to attack either at Deva or Nottingham. Drustina gave her own opinion.
“My gut feeling is that it will be Deva your majesty.”
“We call it Chester now; Deva was the old Roman name. Any particular reasons why you think it will be Chester?” Ethelred asked.
Drustina listed them.
“Chester is a port, Harald will be able to ferry his Scottish and Irish Vikings right up to the gates of the city and attack without a long arduous march. He can rest his own men on the Wirral Peninsular after they had marched over the mountains from Yorvik. What’s more he can supply his armies by sea from either rivers ... The Dee or The Mersey.”
Ethelred wasn’t yet convinced and he said so.
“But Chester is a huge impregnable fortress. The city itself has massive stone walls and the old Roman fortress of Deva is a huge stone fort and still intact. The Romans knew a thing or two about building forts and Deva is the biggest fortress in Britannia. Chester is the key to controlling Northern Cambria, the Celtic seas and the routes to Hibernia. Harald will have Hell’s own delight trying to capture Chester. Nottingham would be a far easier target.”
“Exactly Eth’.” Drustina explained. “But he doesn’t have to capture it does he. All he has to do is lay siege the city and the fortress to prevent the garrison sallying forth. Then he can bypass the city and spread out to the south over the flat plains of Cheshire. Once he captures the plains of Cheshire he will have ample food and supplies to sit out a siege and starve Chester into submission.
If Harald can eventually capture Deva or Chester as you call it, he controls the routes all the way into Western Mercia and even Northern Wessex, not to mention the Cambrian marches. It is the key to his expanding into the rest of Britannia using land forces. It is flat land all the way from Deva and New Sarum to The Cotswold borders of Wessex. If you are to hold Britannia, you must hold Deva or Chester as you prefer to call it.”
“Shall we call it Chester and avoid any more confusion?”
“Alright”, Drustina agreed, “but I cannot emphasise the importance of holding Chester. The very name itself tells of its importance. All your other Saxon ‘Chester’s’ have got prefixes, Colchester, Rochester, Chichester, Manchester, even your own capital city Winchester; but Chester is Chester. It stands alone as the essential key to Northern and Middle Britannia. The Romans knew it, Harald knows it. Remember the strategy of chess. They that hold the centre control the board. So it is with war.”
Ethelred nodded sagely.
“That’s a good argument to put to Edrinor the Mercian King. He’ll be loath to send his army across the Pennines without good cause. He is rightfully concerned about the security of Nottingham and his own kingdom of Mercia.”
“When Harald can call upon the Viking king of Scotland and the Viking King of Dublin he will have men enough to hold all of northern and middle Britannia. He will be able to lay siege to Chester while simultaneously fighting elsewhere in Middle Britannia. Edrinor’s kingdom will cease to exist as a Mercian stronghold. Your task will be made almost impossible. It is imperative you hold Chester and stop Harald thereabouts. Once he breaks out, you’ll have hell’s own job containing him.”
A fearful silence settled over the meeting as Ethelred digested the facts. The more he thought about it the more he felt forced to agree. He frowned as he contemplated his having to prepare for war and march north almost as soon as the snows had melted.
Having wearily concluded that war was inevitable, Ethelred wasted no time marshalling his resources which were substantial. As a Saxon, he found strong allies in Saxony and Friesia and even in Gaul for all these nations were weary of the Viking raids and robbery. Even if the fast warships were constrained by the winter gales; the stout high-sided merchant ships with covered holds were still able to trade in all but the worst storms. Throughout the winter. Men and materials kept accumulating in Wessex as Ethelred amassed a huge army and laid in supplies along the route north so his armies could travel light and quickly to reach Chester in the middle of Spring at the latest.
Drustina and Althred for their part prepared the fleet and constantly improved the training and communications so that ships could communicate whilst fighting at sea. Gisela took a considerable interest in this for she suspected that if Ethelred won, she could well end up as the Saxon envoy to Norvegia once a peace was finally and permanently established. Ships, trade and communications would be vital components in maintaining that peace.
~o00o~
In the late winter Drustina was both surprised and pleased to learn that Udris had decided to visit Sotona with a couple of his ships including his own Mermaid class flagship. Drustina was working with Althred training signallers in the Solanta when they espied the familiar sail approaching past The Needles rocks. The new signalling capability proved to provide an excellent exchange of information as Drustina signalled to Althred.
‘That sail is Familiar.’ Althred signalled.
‘Yes it’s Udris from Dumnoniia!’ Drustina replied as excitement overtook her and she abandoned the signalling lesson to go racing towards her old comrade.
Once they were within hailing distance they quickly exchanged greetings and news.
“Where’s Carl?” Asked Udris.
“Training with Ethelred’s army and the ships in Sotona. With the plans we have formulated there will be some needs for the army and the navy to communicate. Carl is supervising the army. Althred and I are exercising out here.”
“Shall we go to Sotona, I wish to go to Winchester.”
“Certainly! I’ll race you!”
Udris needed no encouragement and immediately the two ships were hurtling up the Solanta bound for Sotona. Immediately they were ashore, Drustina located Carl and they found Heliox supervising construction work on the building stocks. An ecstatic reunion followed then they turned in early for an early start for Winchester was anticipated the following morning.
~~oo000oo~~
This chapter explores the Alliance's options and strategies to deal with the imminent Viking threat.
The Angry Mermaid 115
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 115
The four friends joined Althred the Saxon Admiral in the town square and immediately set out for Winchester. There had been a brief thaw and parts of the new road were free of snow. Drustina had a chance to inspect it and was pleased with Ethelred’s commitment. The hard stone surface with little snow enabled them to reach Winchester in the mid afternoon and the others went to see Ethelred whilst Drustina declared she would join them after visiting her family. On hearing this Udris asked if he could accompany her.
“Be my guest comrade, I thought you had news for Ethelred.”
“There’s not much to tell; now I have you alone I have a chance to declare my real reason for coming.”
Drustina’s eyes widened with curiosity for she had no idea what Udris wanted. He was playing his cards close to his chest. She smiled at the thought that Udris was prepared to tell her and nobody else.
“Well go on, tell me.”
Udris blushed momentarily then found his voice.
“I seek a wife.”
“Well there are a thousand women who would marry a chief, especially a proven warrior and statesman. So why do you tell me and why come to Wessex? I’d have thought there are plenty of Celtic girls who’d die to be married to you. Since your parts in the defeats of the Vikings so far, your reputation as the most successful Celtic warrior is uncontested.”
“I don’t seek a Celtic bride. I have seen how dynastic unions can become soured and loveless. I want a marriage like yours.
It’s obvious you love that giant, Saxon oaf though for the love of god I don’t see why. It’s obvious there’s no accounting for what makes the magic that you and Carl share but it’s the sort of thing I’d like to share with my bride.”
“We are of like minds Udris. A marriage can survive many differences like race or culture or even religion but if the pair do not have similar intelligence they will soon tire of each other. When Carl and I talk to each other we are on the same level, the same wit, the same reasoning. When we seek advice or reassurance from each other we know it will be fair and balanced. These things make a lasting marriage Udris. Being able to talk to each other even enables us to surmount my gender duality and that is a remarkable test of any marriage. So are your looking for a marriage amongst the Saxon women?”
“I don’t seek a Saxon girl; I don’t think my Celtic tribe would accept such a radical step. Though Saxon women are beautiful, their golden hair, like yours, is very attractive. No, I seek another. I met her when we were here after we defeated the Vikings in the Solanta and off Ynys Wit. There is a girl among your followers, a Gaulish girl. You rescued her when you freed Honfleur.”
“Oooh! You mean Symone, the titian haired girl. I’m not sure where she is now. She might have joined Sister Catherine’s order as a nun. She had some brutal experiences at the hands of the Vikings. She might be a nun by now. Rape usually destroys a woman for life.”
Udris’s face darkened with despair.
“Damn! She was such a pretty girl and I had hopes because she is not a Saxon. As the new chief, I am expected to take a bride but I’m not interested in some dynastic arrangement, I’ve learned from watching you and Carl. You have a marriage made by the gods, he truly loves you.”
“And I him Udris. I hope you find the girl and that she is willing. Do not force yourself upon her. If she refuses your hand respect her wishes she has much cause to fear men, nay, hate them even. Symone went through some wicked ordeals in Honfleur. Indeed if you try to force her she could end up killing herself, she was brutalised by the raiders.”
“She was pleasant to me last time I was here and we seemed to get on so well. I was just hoping; she’s very pretty.”
“Yes, that’s why the Vikings abused her. They were punished and rightly.”
“So do you have any objections to my seeking her?”
“None whatsoever, I am not her keeper or overlord; though I was once her protector. Seek her out by all means. I’d try Sister Catherine’s convent or hospice first. That’s the last I heard.”
“Thank you Lioness. I knew I could get good advice from you.”
Having revealed his ambitions, Udris bid Drustina good day and followed the others to visit Ethelred while Drustina joined her family.
She found them as expected in her private apartments at the Palace and her pleasures were doubly enjoyable when she found them all together. At that time Drustina’s family group comprised essentially Tara her sister, Morgan and Amethyst, her older twins, the younger twins by Harald Coldblood’s rape and Gisela, who still did not know that Drustina’s youngest and as yet un-named twins where in fact her half siblings.
As Drustina reflected on the complexities of her children she smiled to herself. When she opened the door, she was overjoyed to see that they hurtled across the floor to embrace her. She had been expecting them to be afraid of her for she had not seen them or played with them as a mother should. Hot tears of joy forced their way to her eyes despite her desperate efforts to hide them. She had missed them so cruelly and she resolved to spend all her time with them until the time for war with the Vikings came. That gave her a couple of months at best to indulge her children. For the rest of the day she played with them and mothered them in some desperate effort to atone for the neglect.
Even after the children had been bedded for the night she felt bound to devote her time to her Sister Tara and Gisela. It was long after supper before a message came from Ethelred asking if she would be attending the king’s court. She sent a reply explaining her circumstance and offered to speak with Ethelred and his other commanders the following morning. When Ethelred got the note he showed it to Carl.
“I think your wife needs you Carl. Best you go and see her.”
Carl needed no further encouragement and left immediately. He found her in their apartments chatting quietly to her sister Tara and the Viking princess Gisela. When he arrived Drustina needed little persuasion to join him in their bed. She wanted hugs and spoiling and lots more.
~o00o~
In the morning she joined the war council much refreshed and in a far better mood to address the issues of war. Ideas were exchanged and discussed at length and Drustina was deeply pleased to learn that the old Roman roads were steadily being repaired.
“Hopefully by the middle of spring, the road to Shrewsbury should be completed.” Ethelred observed then added the inevitable rider. “We don’t have the man-power of resources to go any faster.”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully.
“Well the land from Shrewsbury to Chester is fairly flat so you should be able to move your army in time to meet a threat from the north. Harald Cold Blood is not going to start his campaign until the northern roads are useable and their seasons are about three weeks behind ours in the south.”
“Should we not approach more from the east so as to meet up with Edrinor’s forces then march to Chester? Can we be certain the Celts in Cambria won’t try to attack our flank if we march via the Welsh Marches?”
“Leave the Celts to me. They see the Saxon’s as less of a threat than the Vikings; besides when Celts and Saxon’s aren’t fighting, they’re trading and even intermarrying. The Vikings tend to try and dominate and occupy or attack and take slaves.”
Ethelred nodded and smiled slightly as he spoke.
“You don’t much like these Vikings do you?”
Drustina returned a sour, ironic glare as her lips tightened with anger.
“Hardly surprising is it?”
Her childhood story was well known to the Saxon king. During Drustina’s recent absence on her expedition around Hibernia, her sister Tara had spoken of their earliest shared experiences. Ethelred tactfully changed the subject.
“I would prefer to meet with Edrinor’s forces earlier rather than later. If Harald’s forces meet with us before we are prepared they could pick us off piece by piece.”
“We don’t know yet if Harald will be able to combine with his Scottish cousin before spring. The Scottish armies have even worse roads to travel so he will probably be forced to transport the Scottish forces by sea. Scottish seas can be rough until April or even May; plus his Irish Allies have to come by sea! We’ve discussed this before and I must emphasise that’s the reason I believe he will be forced to attack Chester instead of Nottingham. Harald knows he has to concentrate his forces and moving them by ship enables him to do exactly that.”
“We don’t know how many men he’s got.” Ethelred mused.
“Nor does he know how many we have got. It’s my guess that the repaired roads will enable us to get more men into battle faster than the Vikings. I’ll wager the savage hasn’t even considered repairing the old Roman roads. Their reason d’être was to enable the Roman legions to travel quickly. They serve us with the same utility.”
“Do we move our army as one vast column or do we move them piecemeal north to Chester?” Ethelred wondered.
Drustina paused thoughtfully.
“The sooner you can get forces to reinforce the garrison at Chester the better your chances of success. Send your army up the road piecemeal to give the logistics train time to re-stock and accumulate sufficient supplies. There’s nothing so miserable and unwilling to fight as a cold, half-starved soldier. There’s room enough in Chester to garrison a whole Roman legion so there’ll be plenty of facilities for us. Besides, the longer our forces are up there, the more time they have to prepared defences and scout out the surrounding terrain.”
They continued deciding strategy all morning then Drustina made her excuses and returned to her children. She was pleased to find Symone playing with the children and talking to Tara. Drustina was pretty sure she knew what about. The moment she out her head around the door, Symone came over to chat.
“Lioness I am in a quandary. The Dumnonii chief has offered me his hand and I don’t know if I’m worthy enough!”
“Of course you’re worthy enough girl! You are old enough aren’t you?”
“Of course I am but I am not of noble birth.”
“I would have thought he had explained that.”
“He did, he said he does not seek a noble woman to forge some dynastic alliance. He said he wanted a wife who loved him. He mentioned you and Carl as an example.”
“Well I’m flattered but that begs the question. Do you love him?”
Symone frowned and her head sagged.
“Well yes, a bit. We hit it off after the first Viking battle but then he returned to Dumnoniia. He chatted to me a lot but he never showed any physical interest. I thought he wasn’t interested because I am damaged goods.”
“Damaged goods?! What the hell d’you mean, damaged goods!?”
Drustina almost choked with disgust as she snorted her contempt for the conventions that the new one god faith demanded of women-kind.
In her old Celtic Druidic traditions, when a girl was ready for marriage she told her father of her ambitions and the father let it be known that his daughter was available for marriage. Any suitor was entitled to make an offer but each one had to sleep with the girl to ensure that the pair were compatible. If or when the girl was put with child, she was entitled to choose any one of the men she had slept with as her husband and the marriage was arranged. Drustina herself had surpassed even that convention. She had born three sets of twins to three different fathers and none of them were Carl’s. He would become the father to Drustina’s later children once the Viking business was settled once and for all. She explained this to Symone in no uncertain terms.
Symone listened in shocked disbelief until Tara confirmed the fathers of Drustina’s babies and Drustina’s childhood as a boy.
“Yes, she had twins to the Celtic galley slave Torvel whom she rescued in the Iberian wars with the Corsairs, then she had twins by the Egyptian king Astos, then she fathered a child to Queen Meronee of Nobatia and finally, there are the last two by ...”
Tara frowned for Drustina still had not declared the father.
“Yes; who is the father of these two? You still have not revealed all.”
“All in good time older sister, all in good time.”
Symone took much comfort from Drustina’s story, especially the circumstances of her children’s parentage. She asked Drustina about Udris’s nature and what sort of lover he was. Drustina smiled at Symone’s naivety.
“He’s a very practical and down to earth sort of fellow and he cares about his people. He thinks a lot when he is dispensing justice or arbitrating between his tribal kin-folk. I can’t speak of him as a lover for I have never taken him to my bed but in other things he strives to be right and fair. If you are asking if he’ll treat you gently and kindly, I have every reason to believe he would. He’s told me he’s fond of you and wants you desperately. He does not lie and that’s a good thing in a man, especially for the woman.”
Symone nodded then swallowed nervously.
“When he left last time, I presumed it was not to be. I wish he had been more forthright. A few days after his departure I presumed I was never to find a husband so I asked Sister Catherine if I could join her order.”
“Oh dear. And have you taken your vows?”
“No. Not yet. I must serve as a novice for a year.”
“Well there’s no problem then. Ask Sister Catherine to relieve you of your obligation.”
“Won’t she ne angry?”
“Who Katy!"
Drustina deliberately chose her own private name for Sister Catherine to put Symone at ease.
"Nooo! No way girl. Katy and I go a long way back. Sister Catherine is a tough old bird but she’s a compassionate one. She would not want you to forsake your chance of real happiness simply for her to swell the numbers in her convent. You may not know it but Sister Catherine is a very worldly woman.”
“Will you explain it to her, I’m a bit frightened.”
Drustina rolled her eyes and wagged her head as she smiled reassuringly.
“Alright girl. She’s not some sort of ogre you know; she’s a very kindly and compassionate woman.”
“Maybe to you, but you’re the Lioness. I’ve heard about Polanda and the piracy.”
“If you haven’t heard it from me, Tara or Katy, you’ll have probably heard a very lop-sided and embellished version.”
Symone breathed out a long sigh of relief.
“Thanks Lioness. I feel much easier about it now. Thank you!”
She leant forward and squeezed Drustina so tight her ribs clicked.
“Ouch girl! That’s the rib that hasn’t healed fully yet. Take it easy.”
Symone stepped back in surprise.
“What!! After all this time!”
“Don’t know that it ever will. I can feel the break even now. It’s okay provided you don’t hug me around the lower ribs. Carl always hugs me around the shoulders, but then, he’s a good head taller than I and he knows about the rib.”
Symone nodded then changed the subject.
“Are you ever going to reveal who the father of your youngest pair is?”
“When the time is right girl, when the time is right.”
With these words, Drustina changed into a gown and went to play with her children. Carl found her reading a story to them as he entered their quarters.
~~oo000oo~~
The chapter describes the preparations and first steps in Drustina's campaign to recover her homeland.
The Angry Mermaid 116
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 116.
Drustina starts to assemble the main battle fleet prior to circumnavigating south and western Britannia. The chapter describes her journey and assorted minor adventures as she accumulates reinforcements at every juncture.
The Angry Mermaid 116
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 116.
Carl’s heart almost melted with emotion as his eyes drank in the scene. There was his beloved partner fulfilling a role that only a mother could. Sat in her gown with her two pairs of twins around her while her sister Tara, the children’s aunt shared the pleasure of sitting the two youngest ones on her knee. Carl felt a lump rising in his throat as he stood mezemerised by the vision. He had heard the word ‘Madonna’ bandied about by the Christian holy men but this was the first time he had been intimately acquainted with the concept. He stood smiling stupidly before a tear of delight forced its way to his eye.
“That’s just so beautiful.” He croaked emotionally.
Drustina looked up and smiled as she put her finger to her lips then whispered aside.
“The babies have just gone to sleep.”
The two older twins looked up to censure the invader of their special moment and Carl immediately crouched down to make himself smaller.
“What’s the story about?” He asked.
“It’s a story Tara wrote.” Morgan the older twin boy explained.
“It’s about a warrior who fought a sea monster to save a family stranded on an island.” Amethyst elaborated.
“Now please Uncle Carl. We want to hear the end.”
Carl grinned and fell silent as Tara smiled a gentle censure.
“Consider yourself told Saxon, carry on sister.”
Drustina patted the large cushion beside her and invited Carl to cuddle up to her. He did so and Drustina was secretly glad that her older twins showed no sign of possessiveness or fear as the huge Saxon settled on the cushion with his back against the wall. Drustina nestled into his arm and the twins tucked in tighter as Tara slid in with the younger twins to complete the huddle.
When the story was completed, everybody was reluctant to untangle themselves and eventually Carl was persuaded to relate a Saxon saga from memory and when he’d finished both sets of twins were fast asleep. Drustina and Tara bedded them while Carl boiled up some raspberry tea and settled in for a quiet family night. They talked at length about various things until finally bed called.
~o00o~
Thus the remainder of the winter spent in Winchester was passed essentially as a family break except for the betrothal of Symone to Udris and then Udris’s departure back to his tribe to resume his leadership duties. When early spring returned, Drustina, and her naval commanders started preparations for the voyage of the combined fleets around Dumnoniia and Demetae to prepare for Ethelred’s defence of Chester. In those winter months, various intelligence gathering efforts by both Ethelred and Edrinor, had all served to reinforce the idea that Harald Cold-blood was intending to invade via the north-west.
Prior to the main fleet sailing from Sotona, Heliox the Gaulish commander was despatched to gather the Irish ships and bring them back around Southern Hibernia to rendezvous with the main fleet somewhere in Demetae. The large natural harbour of Aberdaucleddau (Milford Haven) was the favoured location but while Heliox was engrossed in gathering the Hibernians, Drustina’s fleet had to capture the haven port at the western extremity of Demetae. For this she had a substantial force of Dumnoniian soldiers in addition to all the sailors who had joined the fleet as it overnighted in the River Val. She felt a deep satisfaction the following morning when she counted nearly a hundred ships of Saxon, Celtic, Breton and Gaulish flags plus her own tiny flotilla sail purposefully out of the Val to confront the oceanic seas around Dumnoniia (Land’s End). The anticipated battle to capture Aberdaucleddau would be a useful precursor to the forthcoming war and a testing ground for Udris’s army.
With her intimate knowledge of the entrance dangers to Aberdaucleddau it proved an easier than expected night-time passage right into the haven. Even before the dawn sun was risen, the Viking occupiers found themselves being attacked as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the clouds. The Viking main base at Pembro proved a hard nut to crack but they were hopelessly outnumbered and overwhelmed after a short but bloody fight. It gave the uninitiated a deep insight into Viking martial skills and left many of the younger novitiates in a sober mood as they contemplated the loss of their comrades. Nor was there any levity amongst them as they picked over the Viking corpses who had died to a man. The main sense of victory was conveyed by the sight of the six captured Viking longships that had been the main emblem of Norse supremacy and dominion until that day. That night as each man gave silent thanks for his own survival the mood in the camp was one of quiet reflection.
As Drustina walked her rounds that night she spoke with many initiates and she was not surprised to hear them all express their realisations that this was not some sort of exciting adventure but the start of a long, bloody and traumatic campaign. She offered advice and support where she could and ensured that each man was as comfortable, fed and warm as he could be. The good news of course was that the oppressed Demetaens were overjoyed to be rid of the Viking oppressors and all Drustina’s warriors were treated royally. There was to be no drunken revelry however for Drustina’s first lesson to her new recruits was that preparedness was all. As night fell the guards were doubled around the camp and all the ships were put to patrolling the haven to ensure that no Viking longships escaped from the haven. The last thing Drustina wanted was to have Vikings escape to warn their comrades in ports all around the Celtic sea. One of her main strategies was to keep her advance northwards as secret as possible until or unless they met with a substantial Viking force.
A week later, while Drustina concentrated on training the Demetaens to sail the six captured Viking ships, Heliox appeared with over a score of Hibernian fighting ships plus some fast merchantmen best suited to carrying supplies and land soldiers. That afternoon as Drustina contemplated the morrow she climbed alone to the top of Pembro rock and looked down to reflect upon her multinational armada.
‘If this bloody lot cannot give enough account to supporting Ethelred then we deserve to live or die under the Norsemen’s yoke.’
Privately she made one of her rare prayers to her gods
‘Oh Cnab, God of war , be my guide; Nodens, god of the sea, be my protector but if I am to die, then Ankou, god of death, come for me quickly.’
Having calmed her fears, she turned to rejoin her commanders and looked sheepishly at them, for to a man, they had all realised their leader was privately praying for success. Then to further her embarrassment, Carl drew his sword and stepped forward to hold it up in salute. All the other commanders joined him and then gave one huge shout of ‘LIONESS’.
Drustina simply did not know how to respond for the sense of responsibility threatened to overwhelm her and she croaked hoarsely.
“Thank you gentlemen, might I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep?”
Her advice was not taken too seriously and a party atmosphere developed as men anticipated their last chances before they encountered the Viking patrols, possibly around the Lleyn Peninsular. As the party gathered momentum the noise became raucous.
Drustina wanted only to sleep that night so instead of quartering in the settlement of Pembro, she took her own advice about getting a good night’s sleep. She slipped away from the crowd to find greater comfort and privacy for contemplation by sleeping onboard The Angry Mermaid with Seripatese. The spare sail served as a mattress while the mare’s bodily warmth kept her comfortable as the berthed vessel gently rocked the pair of them so sleep. She was one of the first to wake with the dawn and before the dew had risen she and her mare stepped ashore to enjoy a brief gallop before breakfast was being served in the main camp.
“Where were you last night darling?” Carl asked when she appeared in the queue for breakfast.
“I was sleeping aboard the ship with my mare for comfort.”
“What was wrong with my company?”
“You were drunk and you were farting. “
A collective snigger rippled down the queue but Carl smirked dismissively.
“I would have thought your mare would have farted far worse than me.”
“That was in the open air!” Drustina smirked back. “Now are you going to get your squadron ready or are we going to wait another day?”
“It’s been ready since dawn. I saw you galloping your horse and decided I had plenty of time to come down here and enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Happen I was right cos you’re behind me.”
Drustina fumed impotently and poked him in the belly. They chuckled and kissed then finished their food and joined their individual squadrons. Drustina still found it hard to credit when she set eyes on the combined fleets.
‘You’ve come a long way little girl!’ She told herself thoughtfully. ‘Now don’t go and mess it up’!
They left in a prearranged formation that favoured each vessel’s characteristics and everybody had agreed that they would put into Abergwaun that evening to discuss any changes deemed necessary if any problems revealed themselves. The main fleet passed between Y Graig Bach and the mainland while Drustina and her fellow mermaids slipped through the treacherous narrow passage of Geg-y-Ddraig to scour each and every inlet for evidence of Viking occupation. Having found none they rendezvoused off Pen Daffydd and entered Abergwaun as the sun was setting.
Ever cautious of the need for secrecy, Drustina set a score of vessels to patrol further north and west during the night to ensure no strangers happened upon the fleet. It also gave her several commanders some experience of night-time operations and a chance to learn more of the Celtic Sea. She was pleased to learn that Udris and Heliox had set excellent examples to the other ships by patrolling as far north as the tip of the Lleyn peninsula. They actually returned to meet the fleet sailing north the next morning and were pleased to report that only a couple of peaceful merchant ships had been encountered. This served to reinforce Drustina’s view that the Vikings were gathering their longships either in Ynys Mann or Bail-ar-y-Claith. More probably Mann, because there the Scots and the Hibernian Vikings could rendezvous conveniently en-route for the Wirral.
Drustina hoped desperately that this was the case because Harald Cold-blood’s navy had no reason to suspect the existence of Drustina’s fleet.
That night the fleet anchored behind the Lleyn while Drustina took the Angry Mermaid and several of her senior commanders to reconnoitre Madog’s arse and Afon Menai. (Menai Straits). When they failed to locate any longships it looked more and more certain that all the Norse forces were gathering at some as yet unknown location. They returned to rejoin the fleet and Drustina decided to stay hidden behind Lleyn peninsula while the fast mermaid ships were put into pairs and sent searching for evidence of the Viking fleet. Her reasoning being that two ships being sighted without further company would not be construed as the harbinger of some greater force.
While her patrols were gathering intelligence, Drustina landed a few discreet Celtic spies ashore on the peninsula to firstly determine the mood of her native compatriots and, if possible, enlist some more volunteers. She kept her own presence a secret for if the news got out amongst the Cambrians of her own country, the news would travel like wild fire. The Vikings would learn very quickly of the threat and act accordingly. It was not until any volunteers were inducted into the fleet that Drustina revealed herself to them and then they were not allowed ashore again. When it was explained why, they readily accepted the impositions. Additionally, two modest Cambrian merchant-men voluntarily joined the fleet to act as supply ships and also travel incognito under the pretence that they were just ‘simple sailors’ about their lawful occasion.
Drustina herself anticipated travelling on these ships if and when circumstances favoured such action. The ships had just that month traded to Hibernia and Mann with slate for the roofs of the new stone built Viking castles. When the Vikings had learned of the fire-resistant nature of the slate roofs in Lleyn they were quick to adopt the expensive but durable stone sheets. Furthermore the local stone cutters were travelling freely between the high hills of Cambria and the two Norse building sites in Mann and Bail-ar-y-Claith. They would serve as excellent spies for all of them had suffered at the hands of the Norsemen, just at Drustina’s family had.
The very next morning the two merchant ships were loaded with modest amounts of slate and despatched post haste to the two sites. If they returned, Drustina knew she could be fairly confident of the news brought back for every Cambrian crew-member would be their own eyes and ears. Not every Cambrian could be a traitor to their cause. If the ships were detained, Drustina would know to doubly cautious not for fear of betrayal but for lack of hard intelligence. She did, after all, have a huge and powerful fleet to wield a massive blow against the Vikings whether she met them at sea or on landing on the Wirral peninsular.
Four days later, the merchantman returned from Ynys Mann to report that there were a dozen Longships stationed at the Island but no sign of the anticipated main fleet. Only one Viking patrol ship had been encountered north of Ynys Fon. Drustina decided to hold a meeting with her commanders for her overriding need was communication with Chester and news of Ethelred’s progress north from Wessex to Chester.
Her ideas met with a very mixed and dubious reception. Carl voicing the loudest objections.
“What happens if you get captured trying to penetrate the Norse blockade. There has been no trade or traffic between Chester and the sea for several years.”
“So who else can I send?" Dr4ustina countered. "Nobody here knows those waters better than I! My brothers and I were possibly the last people to sail freely up and down the Aber Dyfrdwy. (River Dee Estuary.) The sand banks and quicksand’s are legendary.”
“It’s still too dangerous, can we not send riders overland?”
Drustina snorted dismissively.
“You’d have to cross Y Wyddfa! The mountains are over one thousand metres and still topped with snow. It would take weeks to reach Shrewsbury which would be the most obvious place to gather news then weeks to get back. A ship could complete the voyage to Chester and back in under a week, ten days at worst!”
Carl’s jaw set stubbornly as he emphasised his point.
“Listen Dru! You are too bloody valuable to lose; especially now we are almost there. Who else knows these waters?”
Drustina could see the silent concurrence amongst her other commander’s expressions so she tried another tack.
“What about an armed sortie? If the merchantman’s information is right, we are unlikely to encounter a large force until the Norsemen commence their invasion. And by the way they did confirm that Harald is attacking Chester, not Nottingham. I was right on that count, I believe I’m right on this count. If we take six mermaids with a healthy levelling of experienced crews we can defend ourselves whilst teaching six commanders the local navigations.”
The uncertain silence continued amongst the commanders but Drustina sensed a weakening in their objections. Carl also sensed the doubt but he was loath to see his beloved Lioness put to such great risk. He offered one last alternative.
“Make it eight mermaids and a couple of Udris’s captured longships. That way we have a chance of bluffing any patrols until they are too close to escape whilst we are well able to defend ourselves and you!”
At this suggestion the Hibernians joined in. Queen Marag and Prince Dorvan suggested that perhaps six Viking ships would make it look like a Norse combat patrol making a routine sweep to maintain Norse control of the Celtic sea. Marag argued forcibly.
“Come now Lioness, we have over a hundred ships here, of which more than two score are mermaids and another three score are captured longships. A powerful armed patrol would look completely normal. Say eight mermaids and perhaps six longships. Could we not disguise the mermaids to resemble escorted merchantmen until push comes to shove? That is if push comes to shove and it’s a big if, based on the intelligence we have.”
Dorvan added his weight to the argument.
“It would look like some sort of armed logistical convoy re-supplying one of their bases on the north Cambrian shore.”
Drustina considered the idea and the more she thought about it the more plausible it became. She voiced her thoughts.
“That would work as far east as the Aber Conwy. After that there are no large ports until Aber Dyfrdwy and that’s inside the
blockade. , Oh wait! There’s one, Aber Clwyd but the offshore sand banks stretch for several miles offshore and the tidal window is nought but a couple of hours, I suppose it could work; on second thoughts it could certainly work. Good thinking Hibernia!”
She turned to face Carl who looked considerably happier. He nodded slowly then shrugged and capitulated. Even he knew that this day was bound to come; the day his beloved Lioness had to really lay her own life and the lives of all her men on the line. It was war after all!
~~oo000oo~~
Drustina embarks on an armed reconnoitre of the north Cambrian coast. A brief encounter with the Viking blockade force outside Aber Dyfrdwy gives some of her commanders a chance to hone their battle and command skills.
The Angry Mermaid 117
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 117
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Liverpool_Bay.png
Having decided a strategy, they were forced to kick their heels for a few days as the winds chose to come from the North-east; this would mean head-winds through Aber Menai and that would compound the navigational dangers. Drustina favoured a nocturnal passage through Aber Menai passage with a following South-westerly wind for this would difficult navigation but easy sailing.
Eventually the weather settled into its normal pattern and the prevailing South-westerly resumed blowing. Drustina was doubly pleased when it brought a modest fog for company and visibility was reduced to a mile. It meant that any patrols would not sight them until Drustina’s force was within a mile and by that time her squadron would be perfectly poised to overwhelm a single Norse warship. Drustina reasoned they would be unlikely to meet with more than two or three patrol ships at any one time until they arrived at the blockade line that probably stretched from Pen-y-Gwynt to Wirral; right across the Aber Dyfrdwy.
Seizing the opportunity the Lioness sailed that very afternoon. This brought her to the southern entrance of Madog’s Arse just as night was falling exactly as she had hoped. Now her flotilla would be almost invisible to any watchers on the shore and certainly unidentifiable. As her commanders followed closely behind her they began to realise just why she had emphasised this tactic. The high, forested, rocky shores closed in and each commander was desperately thankful for the tiny cowled lantern Drustina had ordered them to show. The tiny glow was just visible from each stern to the following vessel immediately behind. This tactic compelled each ship to follow in close order directly in line astern as the ships threaded their way between the rocks and whirlpools. In the stygian blackness the other commanders could only wonder at the sucking and gurgling tide rips as they placed each of their ships directly into the hands of their leader.
Eventually the shadows softened and the sky widened as the forested shores receded and the straits widened to the north. The flotilla had made the passage without harm and each commander had cause to admire and respect their captain’s skills. Once clear of the straits and back in open sea, Carl came alongside the Lioness.
“I think I’m glad I couldn’t see the rocks back there. How many times have you made that passage?”
“Probably more than a hundred,” Drustina replied. “My twin sister and I used to sail on these waters all the time; night and day.
This is my back yard dear Saxon and I’m determined to get it back.”
Carl smiled grimly for he could sense the iron in the Lioness’s words. She spoke again.
“The next big headland is Pen-y-Gogarth; the Vikings call it The Orme, some sort of mythical monster apparently.”
“Is it dangerous?” Carl asked.
“Not really, there are no outlying shoals and it makes a good approach marker for the Aber Conwy. I’m betting the Vikings have a base there because the river forms a sheltered bend just inside the mouth. We have not the time to attack it so I’m steering to pass a few miles further north. This fog will hide us and reduce the chances of being discovered. I want to be approaching Aber Clwyd just before day-break so that the blockade ships will be silhouetted by the morning sun and we’ll be approaching from the shadows. Hopefully they’ll think we are as Dorvan suggested; an armed, Viking supply convoy.”
Carl nodded and sheered away to convey the plan to other commanders.
In the darkness the high rocky mass of Pen-y-Gogarth came and went and each ship could make out its bulk as it blocked out the low altitude stars to the south. There was also the soft rumble of the breaking waves on the rock but the Lioness had assured them it was safe offshore.
They were slightly ahead of schedule when they finally arrived off Aber Clwyd and Drustina eased canvas to slow the convoy down. She explained to her commanders.
“The shoals and sand banks from here to Aber Dyfrdwy are complex and they shift with each storm. We will need daylight to navigate into the wide estuary but first we must neutralise the blockade and I have no idea how many Viking ships will be enforcing the blockade.”
Udris suggested they carry on until the met with any blockade ships as he reasoned.
“Wherever the block ships are cruising will be safe water for they are patrolling every day and will know where the sandbanks are. Surely if we can find them while it is still fairly dark, we will enhance our prospects of surprising them. The mermaids are shallow, that’s one of their main advantages.”
Drustina fully understood Udris’s thoughts but it was something she had thought best left unsaid. She put the idea to her other commanders with the rider explaining the dangers. Other ideas came back and eventually a modified plan was hatched whereby two of the Mermaids would seek out any patrol ships and see if they could act as bait. The idea being to try and draw some of the blockading ships south and west into the morning shadows while some of Drustina’s flotilla would go north and cut them off from the main patrol. If they could chop the patrolling force into smaller segments and destroy it by a process of attrition, theirs would be an easier task. Inevitably, Drustina had to be the decoy ship for only she had intimate knowledge of the perilous banks and currents that existed throughout the bay and estuaries off the Wirral Peninsular.
From the Shadows in the west, Drustina’s flotilla eventually spotted three Viking longships loitering in the Mostyn Deeps which was right in the centre of the Aber Dyfrdwy. They could only be the picket vessels that ensured the river Dee (Dyfrdwy) remained unused. Her knowledge of the main banks in the estuary told her that the blockading ships were basically constrained to the deep channel during the low water as where all other ships. If they wanted to rendezvous with Drustina’s ships there was only one route along the deep channel. Whatever their intentions, they were constrained to that single strip of water for the duration of low water and low water was about three hours away. The river Dee (Dyfrdwy) was treacherous on the ebb tide because the drying banks were changed with every tide. No ship could safely leave leave the Mostyn deep for that provided the only constant, certain, location of deep water. At low water huge swathes of the estuary were nought but sand and Drustina knew the tide was ebbing. The three blockade ships had nowhere to go and Drustina outnumbered them over four to one. She shouted across to Heliox who was closest.
“Pass the message. Sail straight towards them as if we were a friendly convoy resupplying our bases, I’m hoping they’ll presume we come bearing gifts ... well supplies anyway.”
“Wouldn’t they be expecting a regular visit?” Heliox observed.
“Who knows? In the fog of war, or war preparations, the best arrangements can go astray.”
Drustina turned to Gisela.
”How do you feel about lying to your countrymen?”
“I did it when we were sailing home last autumn.”
Drustina nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes, you did and that convinces me you are truly on my side. This time I’m going to trust you implicitly.”
“Is this some sort of test?” Gisela asked.
“Frankly Gisela, yes. Sometimes a leader has to take a risk, a gamble. I’m gambling that you’ve seen what mayhem your countrymen cause and you want to see it end. That is my ambition.”
“But the Saxons have also brought mayhem; they have driven your people, the Celts to the very ends of Britannia, the rocks and mountains, Cambria, Dumnoniia, Scotia and Cumbria.”
“That was before my time Gisela. You’re right of course, yes, the Saxons did spread mayhem. But now we are assimilated to some small degree. Our peoples mix and trade and marry of course.”
“Mmmm, yes of course; Carl.” Gisela mused. “A match made by the gods.”
“A match made by war my princess; a match made by war and shared hardships.”
“But he’s not the father of your children is he?”
“Not yet princess but hopefully he will be ... once this bloody war is over. My fight with the Vikings is personal, they killed my family. Carl still hopes to find his brothers and sisters. He believes they are somewhere in Britannia. Anyway; enough of my maudlin, the issue now is your willingness to deceive your kinsmen.”
“I’ve told you before Lioness, I count them no longer as my kinsmen. The battles of Ynys Whyte and Hibernia taught me. Besides, even if I went over to them, what do you think my father would do to me? He sentenced me to what he thought was death when I was only fifteen summers.”
Drustina nodded slowly, perhaps she had been harsh by questioning the princess’s loyalty but it always paid to check all the angles. She decided to trust her with the deception.
“Very well comrade, you’d better join Dorvan in his longship and do all the negotiating. If the picket ship wants to speak to Dorvan tell him you are the translator and Dorvan’s long-ships are Hibernian mercenaries who do not speak Norse.”
“It should work, but you’d better be close by.”
“We’ll be right on your quarter still making pretence of being a store ship. The leather covers will look like a load of stores. If he tries to come close towards you, we will make our way between you; then the fighting starts.”
“It should work; there is not much room in that channel.”
“Don’t worry; let the mermaid ships do the manoeuvring they are shallower draughts. You just sail on by whilst indicating that the store ships are following. Hopefully you’ll get past the first one before they catch on.”
Gisela looked rightfully nervous but agreed to the plan and crossed over to the Irish prince’s captured long-ship.
Once the plan was made known to all the ships, the flotilla pressed forward beating against the ebbing tide until they were within earshot of the leading blockade ship. Gisela opened up the negotiating by calling across the water.
“We have stores and equipment for you from Bail-ar-y-Claith. Where is the nearest safe haven to transfer?”
The Viking commander hesitated then explained.
“We cannot all leave our post. Normally we re-supply in Meols on the Wirral shore or Mostyn on the Cambrian shore.”
Gisela could hardly believe her good luck as she quickly altered her plan. However, she slowed down so that Drustina could hear the negotiations as the Viking princess shouted her instructions to the Norseman.
“Very well, we might have to re-supply one ship at a time. Do you want to despatch one ship to follow me and two of the store ships.”
“To which port?”
“In this wind the Cambrian shore would be best for your ship. When will you have water enough?”
“The tide is ebbing; we will have to wait for the turn of the tide. It will be five to six hours from now.”
“Very well, can I take the first supplies and go inside your picket line.”
“Be my guest. You can anchor to the south of the last ship.”
Drustina could hardly believe their luck. Gisela had just managed to enable the Mermaid ships to pass the first picket and get amongst the three Viking blockaders without a single arrow being fired. She then went even further and Drustina was forced to admire the princess’s ingenuity as the girl continued the conversation while her men held water with their oars.
“You can see we have supplies for the other ships, are they to the north or up the River Dee?”
“They are anchored between Hilbre Holm and the Wirral the visibility is poor in that area because of the fog so they are covering the northern gap. You can never tell when these Saxon bastards might try and break out.”
“Aye, isn’t that the truth!” Gisela replied as Drustina muttered to herself.
“Don’t push your luck young lady we’re already further forward than I ever imagined.”
The Viking commander then asked.
“What news from Baile-ar-y-Claith?”
“They are preparing to invade Chester. They haven’t decided whether to come via the Dee or the Mersea!”
“The Dee would be better; our ships could reach right up to the fortress.”
“Yes, but it’s a massive fortress and the Roman walls still protect it, besides, many of our land forces will have to cross from the north shore of the Mersea and then march south across the Wirral. There’s a lot of marshy ground around Chester so moving the army will be slow. I agree with you a river attack from the Dee is probably best but Harald needs all his forces to meet those bastard kings Edrinor and Ethelbert.”
“Any news on that sorceress bitch? There was a rumour she’s joining the fight with a Cambrian army.”
“I’ve not heard anything of her. She’s a clever bitch and needs watching.” Gisela replied as she looked towards Drustina’s ship with a pleading expression.
By now, Drustina’s flotilla couldn’t have been better positioned as four ships had positioned themselves around each blockader and two stood off to the sea to render assistance where needed. She gave the signal and all hell broke loose on the Viking blockaders.
The first massed salvo of arrows almost ended the battle before the blockaders had even realised they had an enemy. Even as the hundreds of bows were drawn for the second devastating strike many Vikings had yet to realise what had happened. It was only after the second salvo had poured in that the survivors recovered their presence of mind and resourcefulness to take cover. Only as the third salvo was drawn and poised to be released did the blockaders begin to respond. Even that response was nought but an ineffectual scramble to gather their shields, don whatever armour they could lay hand to, and then stand to manning the sides as they stood ready to repel boarders. By this time the three blockading crews were outnumbered by a factor of ten to one with their defences at sixes and sevens while Drustina’s warriors were at full preparedness. The final strike was almost a formality as each of Drustina’s ships adopted its pre-arranged attack based on each vessel’s strengths and weaknesses. The captured Viking longships slammed their heavy hulls against the blockader’s undermanned oars while the mermaid class ships attacked the blockader’s sterns to disable the control centres of each ship.
Once again, massed arrow assaults proved irresistible and by the time the blockade ships were boarded, their crews had been reduced to a handful in each ship. Having been one of the first to board the commanding blockader, Drustina offered quarter ... fully expecting it to be refused in the old Viking tradition of dying in combat to win entry into Valhalla. To her surprise all three ships accepted her offer. She stopped partly with uncertainty and partly with disbelief.
“Are you saying you surrender?”
The commander, who had but moments before been talking with Gisela, lowered his sword and spread his arms in frustrated resignation.
“There’s no point in carrying on is there. It would be a waste of life. Before I surrender my sword, I would know what you would do with us.”
Drustina was nonplussed, she had not expected to be encumbered with prisoners and she had made no provision for dealing with them. She cursed as Gisela brought her ship in close.
“What’s going on Lioness?”
“These men; they want to surrender.”
Gisela stared disbelievingly.
“Don’t believe them, it’s some sort of trap! Kill them.”
‘By the gods’ Drustina mused silently, ‘she’s more bloodthirsty than the men.’
“I can’t do that, I’ve offered them quarter.”
“Well make sure they cannot escape and cause mayhem. Cut their right hands off or something.”
“I can’t do that either, I’ve offered them quarter. I have to make them prisoners if they accept.”
“So how do you intend to guard them? We didn’t even bring any manacles.”
Drustina fell silent. The only option was to continue up the river to Chester and hand them over to the city authorities. Having
decided this was the only practical solution she explained to the Viking co mmander.
“You have two choices, throw down your swords and accept being taken to Chester as captives or carry on fighting.”
There was a distinct murmur of discord as some men wanted to fight to the death whilst other, older men were prepared to become captive. The Lioness’s reputation had preceded her as a fair and tolerant jailer. The majority were behind their commander and ready to opt for captivity under the Lioness’s sufferance. When they finally elected to become captive at Drustina’s mercy, Gisela sniggered.
“Your reputation for clemency encumbers you leader, foist by your own petard!”
“Shut up and gather their swords princess. Make sure they are trussed up tighter than chickens. I have to talk with the other commanders.”
Gisela grinned to herself as she supervised the securing of the prisoners while Drustina called the other commanders to join her in Dorvan’s larger longship. After a brief discussion they agreed to take two of the Mermaids upriver as far as Chester to garner what news and information they could. Drustina and Heliox would take on this task while Udris and Carl would try and visit the River Mersea to see what they could see. The rest of their ships plus the three newly captured blockade ships would firstly determine what the other blockaders were doing around Hilbre Island and probably attack them because they had vastly superior numbers now they had three extra ships. They would also provide extended patrols to keep in touch with Carl and Udris.
Gisela was pleased that she had been given command of the largest blockader for it demonstrated beyond dispute that Drustina now trusted her. While Carl, Udris and Dorvan organised the supervision of the Afon Dyfrdwy, Drustina and Heliox embarked upon the navigation upriver to Chester. Initially the were sailing over the low water and the navigation was tricky but soon after the tide had turned, they made good progress as the inbound flood bore them along.
They arrived at Chester in the late afternoon to cause first consternation then jubilation as the Saxon Garrison realised their arrival demonstrated that the blockade had been broken.
In the garrison commander’s quarters Drustina explained the situation in the Celtic Seas while he produced the most recent information of Ethelred’s march north from Wessex and Edrinor’s preparations to cross the Pennine Hills. The commander explained.
“The Mercian king is a very cautious man Lioness; he has sent messengers to say he has divided his forces so that Half remain on the eastern side of the country lest our intelligence is wrong while he is despatching the other half to march on Chester from the East. The last I hear, Ethelred was a day south of New Sarum while Edrinor’s forces were three days east of Mancunium. He has the hardest slowest march in terms of terrain but his distance is a lot less. I anticipate both armies to arrive in Chester within five to ten days.”
So Lioness; what of the Viking armies? Have you any new intelligence?”
“I have no idea where Harald Coldblood is but his Hibernia cousins are still in Baile ar y Claith ... or they were when we passed Ynys Fon. I’m not too worried about the Hibernian Vikings because they will have to rendezvous with their Scots cousins before landing anywhere. They only comprise about a quarter of Harald’s forces and won’t be too much of a threat on their own. Provided Ethelred and Edrinor can join up before meeting Coldblood, they will have men enough to match him. My forces are a bonus for Ethelred.”
“What are your plans Lioness.”
“I won’t discuss them with you because that risks two things. Firstly, it might compromise Ethelred’s and my battle plan; secondly it might compromise your actions if you expect me to turn up at some particular spot.”
The garrison commander nodded agreeably.
“The need to know principle. Not a bad tactic. Now what about these Viking prisoners you’ve brought.”
“Have you got a big dungeon because there are about a dozen? I want them treated properly they are my prisoners.”
“Very well Lioness, now shall we eat?”
“I’ve no time for a feast. We must get back before the Hibernian and Scots Vikings join forces with Coldblood otherwise, we might be stuck in the estuary all bottled up and not able to get out. I’ll just have a snack with my men.”
For the first time the Garrison commander realised that Drustina had laid her neck on the line and there was a very real possibility of the combined Viking fleet meeting with her own small flotilla. He quickly organised some hot food and had it sent down to the two visitors tied up at the town quay. Drustina thanked him and as dusk was falling she bid farewell to Chester. At least her men were warm and well fed.
~~oo000oo~~
A chapter of preparations, strategies and lessons.
Drustina rejoins the main fleet and attacks the small settlement of Conwy on the north Cambrian coast. The exercise is a 'practice run' used to train her warriors and find any weaknesses that would embarrass the Celts in the heat of a full battle.
The capture of Norse wives of the Viking occupiers of Conwy gives Drustina a chance to teach her warriors how to treat women.
NB. Aber Mersea = River Mersey Estuary
Aber Dyfrdwy= River Dee Estuary.
Aber Menai = Menai Straights.
Aber Conwy = River Conwy Estuary
The Angry Mermaid 118
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 118.
To Drustina’s relief, the trip down the Afon Dyfrdwy proved uneventful mainly because the fog had returned. The visibility was enough to enable them to spot the sand banks but once down in the estuary proper, the English and Welsh shores were invisible. The ebbing tide speeded their return and when she reached the picket line, she was relieved to find all her ships and commanders present. After ensuring that all the men were fed she had a long chat with Heliox and Carl about the choices available to Cold-blood to assemble his forces. Carl explained his thoughts as to why he thought Cold-blood would choose the Mersea to land his troops ashore.
“We managed to Dash into the Mersea but there were about a dozen longships stationed there mostly anchored close to the north shore. There is a sandstone ridge that provides high, dry land where he could easily set up his preparation camp. He owns that side of the river and he can assemble his forces in safety before deciding what to do. The river is deep and fast flowing but the route to Chester from the Wirral peninsular is essentially dry and hard until one approaches the city walls.
There is flat marshy ground to the west in the Dee estuary and it sweeps around to the north in a crescent to the north of Chester before changing to flat drier ground to the north east of the city. We didn’t get much of chance to have a good look but there’s a deep inlet on the Wirral side of the Mersea and this would provide a useful place to land his troops and moor his ships safely out of the tideway. The currents in the river are very strong and the river scours the channel into a deep fast-flowing throat. We didn’t get any further in for the Vikings on the north shore were preparing to investigate us. We only just managed to slip away along the Wirral side as they tried to block us in the river.”
Drustina listened thoughtfully and considered that Carl’s intelligence was sound. She checked a few more factors then put her observations forward.
“The Afon Dyfrdwy acts as a choke point further up towards Chester. Cold-blood would have trouble massing his ships at one point. His ships would be strung out all the way along the narrow river and as you say, it’s very marshy so he’ll have trouble re-assembling ashore. He could not concentrate his forces quickly enough to strike with a massive blow from the Afon Dyfrdwy. I’m thinking he’ll favour crossing the Afon Mersea in force and marching on Chester; probably to lay siege. His supply lines will be shorter than going all the way around the Wirral peninsular. How good was that inlet?”
“It’s quite wide at the mouth but tapers rapidly to a narrow, un-navigable creek about a quarter of a mile inland. He could land on both sides of the stream and quickly assemble on the dry ground just south. It’s an ideal place to land a surprise attack. Also the Mersea provides plenty of deep water to muster his whole fleet close to the landing areas. If I were him I’d choose the Mersea crossing option.” Carl concluded.
“So would I,” Drustina mused, “now we have to determine how and when to deploy our ships to bring the best benefits to Ethelred or Edrinor, who ever arrives first.”
“Could we not get messages to both kings advising them to rendezvous south of Chester and amass their forces?”
“We’ll need riders for that. They are each still about a week or so away from their objective. Then the riders have to return to us and there’s no knowing where we’ll be in a week. The scarcity of good communications is a bloody nuisance.”
Heliox shrugged philosophically.
“Well Udris has described the mountains that make up Northern Cambria.”
Drustina smiled somewhat patronisingly.
“I know what the mountains of my own country are like Heliox but Udris is quite right. A horse wouldn’t be much faster than a man. The mountain trails and passes are extremely rocky and steep. The best we can do is keep tabs on Harald’s ships and trust to Ethelred and Elsinore rendezvousing before Harald strikes.”
“Can’t we do anything to slow Harald down?”
“The best we can do is intercept the Scottish and Hibernian forces before they reach the Wirral Peninsula.” Carl suggested as he turned to Drustina then continued. “But first we have to gather all our ships together. Might I suggest we rejoin the main fleet?”
Drustina nodded, considering all the unknowns it seemed best to re-assemble all their ships so as to be best equipped and placed to do some damage before or during the impending attack on Chester. To this end they returned to the main fleet still anchored to the east of the Lleyn Peninsula.
On their return they were pleased to note that another dozen ships from Brithony had joined forces and they had been practising tactics best suited to their ships. Three of the Breton ships were copies of the Mermaids and Drustina was gratified to see that they had similar performances. She now had nearly two dozen mermaids at her disposal, an excellent number to be the eyes and ears of the fleet.
Her plan was to form a northern cordon of these ships to anticipate any attack or approach by Viking forces from Scotia or Ynys Mann. Approaches from Bail-ar-y-Claith would approach the rear of the fleet and forces could be readily mustered from the body of the fleet to confront any foe. Drustina’s intelligence told her the Hibernians only had about thirty or forty ships. By far the biggest danger lay to the north where Drustina had learned that Harald’s own Norse fleet had already combined with the Scottish Vikings to create a formidable foe. It was rumoured that this fleet might number two hundred ships or more while Drustina had but one hundred and fifty ships at best and ten of those were nought but supply ships ... slow lumbering merchantmen.
Their first tactic was to send half a dozen Mermaids to sail around Ynys Fon (Anglesey) in the hope of encountering any careless Viking ships travelling to or from Bail-ar-y- Claith and Ynys Mann. If they could minimise the Hibernian contribution before the Viking fleets rendezvoused, it would be one less problem to face later. To this end, a second cordon of another six Mermaids was despatched under Carl’s command to sail close to the Hibernian shores in the hope of enticing a response from the Norse king Forden who occupied Bail-ar-y-Claith or as the Norsemen called it, Duhblin.
At the same time, Drustina and Udris spent a day getting other commanders to familiarise themselves with the Aber Menai and its treacherous tides. By the day’s end, she had a dozen competent commanders who had successfully made the straits twice in both directions. There had been a couple of hair-raising moments but essentially, the Lioness had enough commanders capable of scuttling between Ynys Fon and Cambria if they were pursued by superior Viking forces. That evening all the forces rendezvoused just west of Pen-y-Gogarth (Great Orme,)
~o00o~
Aboard the Angry Mermaid Drustina held a council of war with her senior commanders.
“So what news of Hibernia Carl?”
“We saw about a score of longship masts in the outer harbour and several in the inner harbour. We could not count them accurately but it seems your intelligence of about forty ships might be close to what they have. We have encountered no ships at sea during our sweep to the north and west. They seem to be marshalling their forces preparatory to sailing to meet up with the others.”
It was much as all had been expecting but now it remained for their leader to decide on a strategy. An accurate count had established that Drustina had fully one hundred and fifty five ships at her disposal but it was too soon to move upon the Aber Dyfrdwy or Aber Mersea yet. She repeated her main objective.
“I want to carry out a campaign of attrition in these days before the expected attack. For this we can divide our forces by keeping the Longships together as the main heavyweight punch whilst the mermaids can run sweeps around the Southern and western Celtic sea to mop up any small forces they encounter. It is my over-riding ambition to catch King Forden’s Hibernian fleet at sea and nail it before it can rendezvous with Cold-blood and the Scottish Viking King Constin’s ships.
Here is my plan.”
The commanders pressed in closer as she explained.
“Success in any sea battle rests on good intelligence; that is what the Mermaid ships must endeavour to supply. My plan is to set all the Mermaid ships to patrolling the area from Bail-ar-y-Claith to Ynys Mann then South to Pen y Gogarth such that we place a cordon that denies Cold-blood access to our corner of the Celtic Sea that is from Pen y Gogarth around Ynys Fon to Lleyn Peninsula.
Inside that section I want to try and recover the settlement at Aber Conwy. I traded there several times before we were attacked by the Vikings and it was always a good place to buy corn. If we can secure some food supplies it will make us a more efficient force. Tomorrow morning, unless events overtake us, I intend to attack Aber Conwy. We have over fifty longships so we should easily capture the settlement and remove any Viking occupation. A small step against the Vikings but a big step for me.”
After a general murmur of consensus, they fell to discussing other ideas until darkness enveloped them and each commander returned to his or her squadron. Drustina was getting comfortable curled up between her favourite mare’s legs when Gisela crouched beside her.
“Is there room for a little one in there?”
“Be my guest provided you don’t mind the smell, at least it’s warm.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Gisela whispered as she did her best to get comfortable.
It wasn’t the most comfortable of nights the princess had ever spent but eves of battle rarely are.
Before dawn they crept as close as they could to avoid detection then as the first rays of light cracked the eastern sky they made the final dash for the Conwy Estuary. The sudden and unexpected arrival of fifty enemy ships quickly subdued the modest settlement without much fighting. Drustina was quietly pleased that her training exercises had paid off. The landing had been a textbook attack.
As they assessed their spoils, Udris presented several dozen prisoners to Drustina, mostly women and children but with a smattering of very old men.
“What do we do with these?”
Drustina had been talking to some Cambrian natives and she stopped in mid sentence as the realisation hit her.
‘What was to be done with any prisoners?’ She wondered as she secretly wished her warriors had taken no prisoners. Then she mentally scolded herself for such a thought! ‘These were women and children!’
“Prisoners!” She gasped. “Shit!”
The last thing Drustina wanted was to be slowed down by a ship-load of prisoners. She cursed silently before hastily speaking to the only seemingly male Celt who appeared to be the most able amongst the Cambrians she had freed. He was quite an effeminate fellow but intelligent and articulate
“Is there any sort of village council that could represent your people?”
“None my lady. The Vikings ruled with the sword.”
She cursed again before rushing to a decision.
“Very well, choose some leaders from amongst you and try to run the village until my return. Guard the prisoners but do not abuse them!”
“Where are you going my lady?”
“Never mind where I’m going. We are here to purchase supplies and we’ll be gone as soon as my ships are re-victualled. What stocks have you got stored in the village?”
“There is a Viking granary at the end of the quay. I note your men are guarding it even as we speak.”
“Naturally ... there will be no looting. The first duty of your council will be to take control of all Viking property and where possible, refund any stolen or confiscated property to its rightful owner. Now get your council organised, might I suggest it is comprised as the old Celtic councils were; that is with women and men represented.”
The Celt frowned then grinned.
“It will have to be my lady, there are almost no Celtic men left in the village. Most were taken as slaves.”
“How did you avoid being taken?”
The individual’s expression darkened momentarily then his shoulders sagged with apparent defeat.
“I am not uuuuhhm as other men my lady, the Vikings called me a she-bitch and rejected me as a slave.”
Drustina was already beginning to grasp the situation and she was blunt in her observation.
“So they used you as a ...”
The Celt’s eyes lowered as the lower lip trembled slightly. After a painful hesitation the Celt finished Drustina’s sentence.
“A prostitute ma-am.”
“Bastards!”
The Celt’s expression eased considerably as the individual realised that the strange warrior queen seemed sympathetic; for even the Cambrian villagers had ostracised the prostitute. Drustina recognised the individual’s dilemma so she removed the first obstacle very publicly in front of the assembled Celtic women. She asked the effeminate Celt very loudly for all to hear and understand.
“How shall I address you my fellow Celt, he or she?”
After hesitating and glancing nervously towards the assembled women the Celt’s head wagged uncertainly before seeking clarification.
“I don’t understand why you ask Lioness, the holy men, the villagers and even the Viking oppressors, they all say I am a man.”
Drustina seized a rare opportunity to advance her own feelings.
“No Celt! It is not what others say, no matter who they are. Be they Holy men, judges , kings or even healers; only you can decide what you are and how others shall address you, unless you already have some special title or function.”
A tense silence descended on the assembled villagers. As the effeminate Celt stumbled fearfully over his words.
“You mean I ...?”
“I’ll ask again and you are free to say; do I address you as he or she?”
The Celt almost croaked the answer such was the relief and emotion.
“Call me she lioness, though my body parts are mostly more male than female.”
“And what body part is your head? What are your thoughts and your feelings?”
The Celt looked up with relieved disbelief.
“A woman’s thoughts ma-am, a woman’s!”
“Then go amongst your fellow villagers as you wish.”
“I go as a woman!” The Celt almost squealed with delight.
Drustina shrugged and turned to the other villagers.
“She is a woman, treat her thus. Should you question this, then I will willingly enlighten you as to my own secrets and why I do this thing. Are there any amongst you who object?”
A woman at the back spoke up.
“He has always been my older brother why should I deem her a sister now?”
“Because she is.” Drustina answered simply then took it further. “Step forward girl, and I will treat with you privately.”
The woman stepped forward hesitantly for having revealed her relationship to her liberated brother she was now nervous of somehow inviting the Lioness’s wrath. Drustina smiled to encourage her as she stopped at the front of the assembled women.
“Don’t be afraid young lady. I’m not about to eat you or something but you of all people must be taught. Is there a private room nearby?”
Several women pointed to an inn on the quayside so Drustina led the sister into a private room whilst inviting two other women, an old woman and a young mother with her child to bear witness. Inside the inn she explained to the sister and the other women plus the uncomprehending child..
“I don’t know if you have heard of the Lioness of Carthage but be assured, I am she. Have you heard of her?”
The three women nodded while the child simply stared at the strange woman who wore britches and a female cuirass with breast forms. Drustina continued.
“If you wish, I will reveal my duality to you; that is why I invited three of you here to maintain and demonstrate probity. Are you willing to bear witness?”
The women’s eyes widened as much with anxiety as with salacious expectation. After a brief hesitation they exchanged nervous glances then the sister of the effeminate Celt nodded. Before revealing her secrets Drustina cautioned them.
“Firstly these swords on my back are not toys, if any of you make an untoward or uninvited approach these swords will speak for me and swiftly, I am not to be toyed with and you can confirm that with any of the warriors out there. Now firstly I remove my cuirass to open my jerkin. Then under my chemise I have these.”
As she spoke, she manipulated her fingers and the front of the cuirass unbuckled to slip easily off her breasts. She unbuttoned her sword harness then next her jerkin. Finally, underneath lay Drustina’s rare silk chemise; lighter even than damask and just as transparent. Her breasts were readily visible but Drustina took the bull by the horns and slipped the chemise off to reveal her
scarred but still youthful, rounded breasts. For a brief moment the women’s eyes glanced at the breasts but such things were commonplace to them. Their attention was more importantly drawn to the sword scars that marred her attributes. Drustina then span around to reveal the cruel disfigurement of the scar to her fore-arm and the burns on her back and neck. At these sights the women gasped in disbelief. Drustina continued.
“My reputation ladies, was not come by lightly nor was the loyalty of my men but the next part might perhaps distress you, do not be alarmed.”
So saying she unbelted her britches and lowered them to finally reveal what to the three women was a shocking exposure.
They squealed partly from offence and partly from fear and it was several seconds before Drustina brought calm to reign.
“Do not be afeard ladies, that is the only male thing about me, behind that, here, is my femininity and yes; both parts work. I am both a mother and a father.”
She turned again and bent over to reveal her vagina lips behind her scrotum whilst also revealing the cruellest scar of all. She explained about the scar Blueface had left her.
“That cut ladies, was the almost fatal wound by Blue-face’s mighty sword. I suffered it when I was but a lad and it’s cut gave me and my healers the first intimation that I was not as others down there. I am both man and woman but I am preferably a woman in my living. I am married to Carl, the huge giant of a man with the yellow hair to whom you all rushed when we finally rid you of your oppressors. He accepts me and treats me as a woman and more importantly his wife and battle comrade.”
So saying she quickly redressed and returned to the business of bringing order to the village. Her behaviour quickly reinforced her words to the women, it was obvious that the Lioness, the warrior queen was a beloved and respected leader of the whole band. Her word was obviously law so the question of the effeminate Celt’s identity was not to be raised again.
With order established, she went on a tour of the settlement and she noticed a preponderance of red cloth amongst the gowns of the women. It gave her an idea. She located the source of the cloth and was pleased to learn there were several large bolts of the material available. With no more ado she purchased all the cloth and set the womenfolk of Aber Conwy to making large red patches to attach to the sails of all her ships.
That afternoon with some semblance of organisation arranged amongst the Celtic villagers, Drustina returned to her station to the west of Pen y Gogarth and met the messenger bearers from the mermaid cordon.
“The Hibernian ships are massing in the outer harbour, Udris believes they are preparing to sail.”
“We’ll be ready for them,” Drustina replied as she handed out the large red patches to as many of her ships as she could.
The longship crews could readily see the necessity for identification because they closely resembled the Viking warships. The Mermaid crews only adopted them because their leader insisted. By the following morning as Drustina’s forces assembled north of Ynys Fon, the patches had been distributed around the whole fleet.
~oo000oo~
Drustina must secure her rear before attempting to help Ethelred drive the Vikings out of Northern Britannia. To this end she must capture the Isle of Man (Ynys Mann) and she achieves this by trickery and deception.
http://www.harbourguides.com/charts.php/Irish-Sea-East
The Angry Mermaid 119
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 119
Gisela the Viking Princess cursed as the cold, newly-arrived, northern rain trickled down her collar.
“By the Gods, I hate the north winds. Even this far south they bring nothing but cold.”
She pulled her leather cape about her and looked up to study the sail. This only made it worse as rain trickled down her throat and into her cleavage. She flinched as she struggled to tighten the cape further.
“Damn this rain! D’you know? I believe the Norse snows are better than this bloody stuff.”
Drustina emerged grinning from the welcome shelter of the amidships leather covers and presented her with a very unglamorous hood for her cape and a hot bowl of cowl.
“Here girl cheer up. Your trick is nearly over.”
She took the hood gratefully and draped it over her saturated hair then handed the tiller to Drustina before savouring the stew. For the first time that morning she smiled.
“By the gods, this Cambrian lamb is tasty. Is there any more of this?”
“Yes, I’ve told Edburg to save some extra for the watchkeepers. It’s no good having cold hungry lookouts they miss things if they’re more concerned with their comfort.”
“I hate it when we simply drift around like this; the ship rocks and rolls like a turd in a piss-pot and we’re going nowhere.”
“You’ll be busy soon enough girl, just be glad you’re safe for the moment.”
“What d’you think of our chances?”
Drustina paused. She didn’t want to invite disaster.
“What? For the whole enterprise or any conflict we have with the Hibernian Vikings?”
“Both,” Gisela frowned.
“One result hinges on the other. We outnumber King Forden’s ships but we are spread thin to cover as much sea as we can. It’s no good throwing a cordon around Bail-ar-y-Claith because he can despatch a ship from a port further north and warn Harald Cold-blood’s Scottish cousins. They could then divert south and confront us with a vastly superior force. I’m trying to avoid bloodshed while enhancing Ethelred’s chances of beating Harald. My plan is to try and destroy Forden’s fleet at sea so Constin, the Scottish king has little news or intelligence and is compelled to reinforce Coldblood’s fleet somewhere near Chester; either the Aber Dyfrdwy or the Aber Mersea.
My ideal tactic is to somehow catch Harald’s fleet landing his forces to attack Chester and either pin him down on the Wirral shore or simply pen his ships up after Harald lands so they cannot resupply Harald ashore.”
Can Harald not march around the Aber Mersea and attack Chester from the East?”
“He stands a strong chance of encountering Edrinor’s forces marching from Nottingham. Harald’s depending on his Scottish and Irish cousins to reinforce his army so he cannot go too far inland to the east if his cousins are arriving by sea from the west.”
“There are a lot of ifs and buts aren’t there?”
Drustina tossed her head wilfully.
“Tell me about it. Now go and get some more stew for yourself, I’ll take the tiller while you are away.”
Gisela didn’t need a second invitation and she eagerly scuttled under the leather covers to fill her belly. She emerged with two bowls and a wide grin.
“Edburg scraped the pot.”
“Well you won’t go into battle half starved then. Make the most of that, it’s the last meal for today.”
“D’you think we’ll meet with them today?”
“Probably. Make sure your sword is sharp and your armour well fitting.”
The pair fell silent with their own thoughts while Gisela ate with her arse resting against the tiller to stop it flopping about as they drifted with the cold wind.
Through the morning a series of Mermaids came and went with reports as the spies rotated their duties while to the East of The Angry Mermaid, Udris and Dorvan commanded the two longship squadrons waiting to pounce once news arrived. At mid morning two Mermaids slipped through Udris’s squadron and reported to Drustina.
“We’ve brought the dye you ordered Lioness. We almost stripped Aber Conwy clean of every last drop. What’s it for?”
“I’ll tell you when we need to know. For now, stay close to me.”
The commanders smiled and shrugged. The lioness was noted for her tricks and ploys though for the life of them, none of the men could determine why they should carry so much dye. Drustina had obviously got her reasons and they would learn in good time. For the time being they just waited alongside the Angry Mermaid ready to receive further orders. The lioness was obviously setting the best trap her forces and resources would allow.
~o00o~
Just after noon, the news arrived that Drustina had been waiting for; Forden’s fleet had departed from Bail ar y Claith and his chosen course indicated that he seemed to be steering for the northern tip of Ynys Mann. The pre-arranged plan had already swung into action as the message was passed by signal arrow to each mermaid ship in the patrolling ring. Ships to the south simply fell back into a small flotilla whilst those to the east and north raced to rejoin Drustina’s main force. Being faster than Forden’s longships they were quickly able to slip away and stay out of sight of Forden’s patrols. Only Heliox remained in sight of Forden’s fleet to keep tabs on his movements and convey information to the signal ships by arrow. Drustina set a course to sail south and east of Ynys Mann then pounce on Forden’s ships as they passed north of Ynys Man before turning south around Pen Ayre. She explained to her commanders.
"Heliox will shadow Forden’s fleet with a score of Mermaids so that we will not alarm him unduly. He knows something is afoot to the south so it seems he has chosen to take the northern route to Ynys Mann he’s probably hoping to rendezvous with Constin’s ships somewhere of the south coast of Scotia. I intend to capture the ports of Dougle and Ramsey to use as temporary bases to entrap Forden to the east of Mann. If we can trick him into thinking that Udris and Dorvan’s ships are Constin’s long ships we might be upon him before he can prepare."
“Seems a bit sneaky and dishonourable,” Gisela observed.
“The objective is for us to win Princess, not become chivalrous corpses. The less blood of ours I spill, the more men will follow me. Battles are won by guile and deceit; wars are won by preparedness and intelligence.”
Gisela fell silent, she had never been involved in a full blooded sea battle; all the conflicts she had experienced had been raids and skirmishes. This time she knew with a sickening certainty that somewhere, sometime, they would face the full might of the Viking fleet unless the Lioness was very, very cunning.
The raid on Dougle proved surprisingly easy. The inlet was not large and there were only six ships tied up in the harbour. The toughest part was capturing the fortified town and here Drustina demonstrated how preparedness and some useful local knowledge could achieve miracles.
Her previous childhood associations with the Manx tribes had taught her long ago that Manx people were a particularly superstitious lot. She had visited both Dougle and Ramsey on several trading trips with her father and older siblings and she knew of several local superstitions that could be exploited. While her father and older brothers had bartered and traded with the local Manx tribes, Drustan as a young boy had listened to the story-tellers in the market.
When she had been wondering how to capture Dougle she recalled a particular tale of witchcraft and legends.
The legend held that before Dougle was to be destroyed, the river would turn to blood. It was a well-known story and one of the mainstay tales from which many other Manx legends had grown. Drustina had put two and two together when she remembered the surfeit of Red dye the Cambrians used in Aber Conwy to colour the women’s dresses. To this end, she had earlier despatched the two mermaids to Aber Conwy to collect a cargo of the local red dye to colour the Rivers Glass and Dhoo where they joined to form the River Dougle. The wicked witch was to be Drustina herself of course and during the start of the attack on Dougle she would declare herself as the witch and immediately turn the river red. To achieve this, she would fire a ‘magic arrow’ into the air thus sending a signal to her men located at the confluence of the rivers Dhoo and Glass. Additionally her men would pour salt into the river to make it undrinkable and further convince the superstitious Manxmen that the water had indeed been changed.
On that day when the spy ships determined that Forden had departed Bail ar y Claith Drustina set her plan into action. Using fast Mermaid ships she despatched a force of men to sneak ashore on Ynys Mann to put in place the first stages of her plan.
On the eve of the attack on Dougle, Drustina had every second man of her attacking army carry a large bag of salt or large clay camphor of the red dye and she positioned them before dawn at the junction of the two rivers.
As the sun rose that morning, Drustina’s fleet arrived in force off the town of Dougle. Two score of ships invaded the harbour and quickly overwhelmed the dozen longships that had been expecting the arrival of a large friendly force of Scottish and Hibernian ships. With the Viking occupier’s ships taken Drustina was soon well set to put the second part of her plan into action. Udris and Carl grinned as Drustina and Gisela dressed up as old crones bearing curses to frighten the local Manx people into submission. With the local population free to return to the Celtic cause, Drustina would feel a lot safer with friends at her back. The main issue was somehow getting the Manx Celts to rise up against their Viking oppressors and this was where the dye and salt came in.
With the six occupying longships now in Drustina’s hands and the few Viking survivors in chains at the city gates, Carl and Udris called out to the occupiers of the fortified city of Dougle to surrender.
This met with derisory laughter for the Viking occupiers had every expectation of the imminent arrival of the Scottish and Hibernian fleets en-route to Join Harald’s forces. They little knew that Drustina’s mermaids following the Hibernians had spooked them into attempting an earlier rendezvous further north and this would delay their appearance of Dougle by one or even two days. Time enough if Drustina’s plan was to work.
Carl and Udris lined up their forces as though to attack or lay siege, the occupying Vikings could not determine which. This uncertainty was deliberately fomented to reinforce the fear and suspicion. Arguments were already breaking out amongst the Viking overlords when two old crones appeared cackling maniacally at Carl’s shoulder. Carl played his part.
“Go away you old witch, your spells are not welcome here!”
“Ayee you Saxon whoremonger. You do not offend us for we shall put a curse on you.”
Carl roared with laughter for effect then drew his sword and smacked the older witch across the arse as his men joined in the laughter. This scorn of the old witch caused her to shriek with rage but Carl's men simply laughed louder. Drustina made a show of screaming incoherently as she motioned to the other ‘witch’ to call down the god of storms and pestilence.
“Fire your bow sister. Call down the blood demons and curse this land!”
As Gisela fired her green smoke into the sky Drustina uttered her incantations then made some passes with her hands over the river as she threw some red powder into the water.
“When the tide turns whoremonger, this river will turn to blood and you will die of thirst for all the water in Man will be thus.”
The tide was scheduled to turn within an hour, plenty of time Drustina calculated, for the salt and die to flow downstream. It was less than a mile from where the rivers Dhoo and Glass joined to form the River Dougle that helped to form the harbour at Dougle.
Having made her curse, Drustina beckoned to Gisela to leave with her and they left Carl to complete the next act of the pantomime, namely to discover that river had indeed seemingly turned to salty blood and the water was undrinkable.
It was less than an hour before the first red streaks appeared in the river at the city gate and some soldiers reported the fact to Carl. He made pretence of scoffing at their reports in full view of the Viking and Manx defenders but his manner changed when he saw the ‘blood’ and tasted the salt. He cursed loudly for the benefit of the Viking defenders as he spat out the foul tasting water.
As the river flowed under the city ‘water-gate’ the defenders also quickly realised the water was poisoned. Amongst the Manx defenders the legends of the river turning to blood before the city’s demise were quickly resurrected. Fear soon became panic as the legends took root and before the hour was up, the Manx were arguing with their Viking overlords. The arguments became louder and quickly escalated to violence as swords began to clash behind the city defences. Carl turned to Udris with a grin.
“Right about now I think comrade.”
Udris nodded and with a silence born of much training Drustina’s forces attacked the palisades. The distracted Vikings could not put up a co-ordinated defence and weak spots were soon exposed as Drustina’s men flung ladders at all sides of the city. Once the attack had commenced Drustina returned with the other half of their forces after they had polluted the river. For the Vikings, already struggling desperately to hold the ring, the sudden arrival of a second wave led by the shrieking, cackling pair of witches was enough to break their will. As Drustina led her second wave up and over the already once used ladders the Vikings realised the game was up.
Most Vikings, as was their way, fought to the death but a tiny few took fright and threw down their arms. In the frenzied mayhem, even some of these were slaughtered before the Lioness could bring order and discipline but about a dozen men survived. Once again the Lioness had mixed feelings about this. She questioned herself and wondered if she was becoming like the enemy she so detested. For she realised she would have preferred them to die fighting. Prisoners were a liability especially when they sought quarter.
The native Manxmen were corralled into the city square by Drustina’s men where Udris, being a fellow Celt, took charge of their care and eventual release. Carl joined Drustina in dealing with the Viking prisoners.
“What’s your pleasure Dru?”
Drustina shrugged.
“I’m not sure, the ones who surrender usually seem to be the more rational and sensible men. Your arm is cut, let me look at it.”
Carl shrugged and wiped the blood away.
“It’s only a flesh wound, where’s your sister witch?”
Drustina grinned.
“Gisela? Ooh she’s questioning Vikings. When they realise who she is it tends to unsettle them and they become a bit more talkative. She’s a bright girl.”
“Udris said he saw her get cut.”
“She was; nothing serious but she counts it as a badge of honour; evidence that she’s fought. I sent her to the healer before interrogating prisoners.”
“Quite the little heroine then.”
“She’ll do.”
Carl smiled, the lioness was well known for understatement when it really mattered. ‘She’ll do’ or ‘he’ll do’ was one of the Lioness’s highest accolades for a fellow warrior.
“So what now? I presume we’ll be staying the night here before resuming the hunt.”
“Damned right!" Drustina cursed. "I need a bath; that dye stinks. It’ll be morning I’m thinking before the river is clean again.”
Carl went off to Join Gisela interrogating the Viking prisoners while Drustina went amongst the Manx looking for a decent bath. It was not until she convinced some of the Manx shamans and holy men that the river colour was a trick that they relented and revealed the only unpolluted water supply in the city. She had to wait impatiently for water to be heated and it was fully an hour before some semblance of hygiene was achieved. By that time Gisela had finished interrogating the captured Vikings and found her leader exactly where she had expected ... taking a bath.
“May I join you?”
“Of course, how’s your shoulder.”
“Sore.”
She turned to reveal the fresh cut and some neat stitches. Drustina nodded.
“That’s a neat job.”
“It was a clean cut.”
“Where is the healer who did that, we can use a man like that?”
“It was a woman Lioness.”
“Speak to her after you’ve washed. Ask if she wants to join us.”
Gisela slid gratefully into the hot tub and winced as the hot water invaded her cut. Drustina nodded.
“Have the woman redress it after you’ve bathed. The dye stinks and it might infect your cut.”
“What’s it made of?”
“I’m not sure. They said the red powder comes from the Halkyn lead mines on the plateaux between Aber Clwyd and Chester and they mix it with sheep’s blood; then they boil it and add other stuff.”
“Uugh! Disgusting.”
“Yes, that’s why you must wash that cut after getting this filth off you.”
Even as she spoke, Drustina ordered another hot fresh bath.
‘If a victorious queen could not indulge in this single female luxury,’ she reflected; ‘what was the point of winning battles?!’
Gisela availed herself of the shared luxury and smiled as they shared their unspoken concurrence. While they soaked gratefully Carl eventually arrived unannounced and Gisela squeaked as Drustina invited him in.
“I think I’ll go and visit the healing woman again,” Gisela giggled as she tactfully left the pair to share the tub.
“Don’t forget to ask her?” Drustina shouted but Gisela was already re-robing in the ante-room.
~oo000oo~
Drustina is now deeply involved with the first elements of the Campaign to drive the Vikings out of her homeland.
The Angry Mermaid 120.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 120.
This site provides an EXPANDABLE Chart of the eastern IRISH SEA. It covers the whole area of the forthcoming campaign.
http://www.harbourguides.com/charts.php/Irish-Sea-East
NB Historical note. The red line marks the course of the present River Dee with the narrow artificial Channel joining Chester to Flint. In Drustina's day the black dotted line (The current Welsh-English Border would have been the north shore of the upper estuary and whole of the estuary right up to Chester would have been marshlands and forest. The estuary was drained and reclaimed when the river was diverted into a straight navigable Channel in 1732. The red line shows that straight, dredged channel.
~~~~~~~~~
The Angry Mermaid 120
The wind rattling the shutters woke Drustina as she freed herself from Carl’s loose embrace. He murmured and blinked before reluctantly joining her by the cold tub.
“Bloody service around here is terrible.”
Drustina agreed with him and reasoned thus.
“The whole town is at sixes and sevens as people try to bring some semblance of cohesion to their newly liberated lives. The Vikings ruled with a rod of iron, so the Manx are having to re-adjust to making their own decisions again. I didn’t think about the situation in this place, I suppose all the slaves have buggered off to savour their freedom. I think we’ll have to organise our own breakfast.”
“There should be food down with the ships.”
“Well we’re going that way anyway come on, we might as well start as we mean to go on.”
The pair dressed for the foul weather, then located Gisela and some other commanders before rushing hungrily down to the gathered ships. The harbour was alive with activity as ships prepared to sail but it wasn’t long before they found some welcome shelter and hot food. By mid morning, the fleet was ready and the local Manx natives watched with mixed feelings of relief and uncertainty as the harbour emptied and the whole fleet sailed north to Ben yr Ayre. As usual, the Mermaid ships became the eyes and ears while the longships sailed in close formation to provide the heavy muscle when trouble came, as it invariably would. Drustina was looking for it.
The weather continued foul but Drustina was glad of it. In strong winds the Mermaid’s speed and seaworthiness compounded their advantages and they scouted considerably further ahead of the main fleet in the hope of enticing the unsuspecting Hibernians into their trap. The rain also reduced visibility and if the Hibernians did pursue what looked like a few straggling ships they would in all probability be drawn into the jaws of Drustina’s trap before they had time to avert it.
As they reached Ben yr Ayre’ on the extreme northern tip of Ynys Man, the main fleet heaved to ready to pounce if the Hibernians took the bait. To the north, west and east of Ben yr Ayre the Mermaids spread out to cast the bait as wide as possible.
By dusk Drustina was beginning to get worried. She had fully expected the Hibernian fleet to make for Dougle in expectation of joining with the Viking occupiers there. As darkness fell she was beginning to wonder if she had blundered.
‘Had King Forden taken his ships north to first meet with the Scottish King Constin to reinforce their fleets since realising there was obviously some sort of enemy force sailing the Celtic waters.’
With darkness upon them, Drustina signalled all the ships to anchor for the night except for the essential patrol ships forming the security cordon. Anchored ships were to have a red light ready to show to any approaching vessel whilst the Patrolling mermaids were to answer with a green light whenever they approached the anchored fleet.
The tactic worked successfully as morning found the bulk of the crews refreshed and prepared for whatever the day brought. During the night the wind had backed slightly but the rain persisted thus maintaining the Mermaid’s advantages of manoeuvrability and speed. It was long after sun-up before one of the search ships returned with news.
“He has rendezvoused with Constin’s ships far to the north at Stranraer but this southerly wind puts their entire combined fleet in Irons. It seems he’s waiting for the wind to veer to the west and hopefully the north.”
On receiving the news Drustina called a meeting of her commanders.
“I want each of you to give me your ideas.”
She was gratified as she went around the circle of commanders, that the Ambush option was still the most favoured.
“If the wind is north or west, Luce bay would be a good place to lie in wait provided their fleet is put to sea and no longer in touch with the shore.” Udris observed.
“Tucked well in behind the Mull of Galloway,” Drustina added as she studied the chart.
She stood back from her precious chart to give all her commanders a chance to study the lie of the land and slowly a murmur of consent rippled around the group. Udris’s suggestion was adopted. The only commander who had remained silent was Heliox but lastly he made his point.
“What if they decide to go south around Ynys Mann? There are less hazards and it’s still a favourable approach to Aber Mersea and Aber Dyfrdwy.”
This idea had been nagging at Drustina’s mind and the only solution was to throw a cordon of fast Mermaids stretching west as far as the Hibernian shore. She had the ships to do that but it meant the mermaids would be unavailable for the main battle or more correctly, they would arrive at the point of conflict in dribs and drabs. She looked around expectantly at her commanders and it was Carl who almost read her mind as he pointed out.
“Knowing what Constin and Forden are up to is more important than attacking them. Our main objective is to defeat Cold-blood when he attacks Chester. Even if we are reduced to simply pursuing their ships into either of the estuaries we still give Cold-blood a headache. Besides there’s no certainty that Constin and Forden know our full strength. All they know about are the Mermaids and perhaps a few of Udris’s longships. They know little about Dorvan’s fleet. We can afford to spread the mermaids thinly across the North Channel because whatever route the Vikings take, we will end up with eyes on either side of them and know which way they choose to go. So long as we know where they are and where they’re going they cannot determine what strength we’ve got or where it is located. Keeping them guessing is a huge advantage to us.”
Drustina nodded and nobody dissented. Thus was the plan changed. Once again, Drustina had cause to be thankful for the extraordinary characteristics of her Mermaid design. Compared to the narrow-gutted, low-freeboard Viking warships, the Mermaid craft performed superbly in bad sea conditions. Going ‘a’viking’ was essentially a summer-time activity when calmer seas allowed their longships to cleave swiftly through calmer seas and strike fast in unexpected places.
Drustina smiled as she considered these two limiting factors. The Viking fleet could not move quickly while the unseasonal gale blew and furthermore, their destination was not wholly unknown to Drustina’s forces. , The Vikings only had the options of either Aber Mersea or Aber Dyfrdwy.
~o000o~
With these considerations she discussed the tactics with Carl and the other commanders.
“So we just corral them, like cattle drovers.” Udris observed.
“Well not quite like cattle herders,” Carl replied, “we just need to know what their target is. We don’t want them to think we are penning them so we keep our surveillance to an absolute minimum. We must endeavour to make them think there is only one or possibly two of our ships trying to keep tabs on them; we must make them think we have only a few ships and insufficient strength to confront them. The most important element is getting intelligence back to Drustina, Heliox and Udris so that the heavies are not too far behind. Once the Vikings enter one or the other of the estuaries, we can pen them there.”
“What about Cold-blood’s ships?” Heliox asked.
“I have no idea, it’s obvious they are not combined with the Hibernian and Scottish fleets otherwise the North Channel would be covered with ships.” Drustina confessed. “I can only hope that they are already close to his armies so that they can ferry his troops. By my reasoning, if Constin is heading south then he must be expecting to meet with Cold-blood’s forces so I’m hoping the bulk of his ships will be already stationed on the north shore of the Aber Mersea. Ethelred’s spies assure us that Cold-blood has definitely massed his land forces on the north shore of the Aber Mersea because he would be vulnerable to attack from the Garrison at Chester if he crossed south too early. The line stretching across Britannia from the Aber Mersea to the Aber Umbre is the border between the Mercians and the Vikings although Ethelred has been strengthening the Chester Garrison with Saxon reinforcements for the past months ever since the roads were clear of snow. Edrinor has only been able to divide his army since we have been certain Cold-blood is poised on the Mersea.”
With this as their best intelligence Drustina bravely decided it might be necessary to split her own heavy force of long-ships if the Viking fleet went ‘south-about’ Ynys Mann. Carl and Udris would follow Constin’s fleet south around Ynys Mann whilst Dorvan would accompany Drustina down the east coast of Man so that they would hopefully rendezvous south and east of the island whilst ensuring that no additional Viking forces were issuing from the Avon Ribble.
Drustina and Heliox were tasked with firstly monitoring Constin’s fleet to make sure they were going south about, then they would double back and commence checking every bay and Inlet on the South Scottish and West Viking shores to mop up any possible Viking opposition.
To try and improve security and secrecy, Drustina led a small force ashore on the Mull of Galloway to kill any Vikings or Scots who might somehow get word of her fleet’s location to Constin before he decided his route. Drustina was not proud of this tactic for the force was landed with clear instructions to take no prisoners if they were deemed likely to reveal the location and size of Drustina’s fleet as it sheltered under the headland that formed the Mull of Galloway.
It was a night of much bloodshed but Drustina felt at least their location was still a secret. To Drustina’s eternal relief they knew of no women or children being slaughtered.
“War is a bloody business,’ She reflected, ‘and this one is going to be one of the worst I’ve fought.’
Two days later, proof that her brutality had been successful was manifest by Constin’s fleet surging south past the Mull of Galloway and seemingly smashing its way through the flimsy cordon that the Celts had thrown across the north channel in a pathetic attempt (or so it appeared to Constin,) to debar the Scottish Vikings from the Irish Sea. As the meagre handful of Celtic ships seemed to scatter before Constin’s fleet the Scottish Viking smirked to himself.
‘It would take more than a scabrous handful of those flimsy cockleshells to stop him now.’
Of course as soon as the Celtic spies brought news of Constin’s breakout Drustina set her plan into action. Carl and Udris set off in unseen pursuit directly behind the Scottish Vikings while Drustina Dorvan and Heliox raced around the north and East of Ynys Mann to rendezvous with Carl at the tail of the Mersea Bank. By then the Celts would be certain of Constin’s destination.
~o00o~
On her voyage down the Eastern side of Ynys Mann Drustina encountered a small flotilla of Harald’s ships that had been stationed up the Solway Firth. These Vikings had occupied Galloway and Cumbria but the region was mountainous and agriculture was difficult to sustain. As a consequence they relied mainly upon their old Norse activities of fishing and piracy. On first spotting the Mermaid outriders of Drustina’s fleet, the Cumbrian Vikings presumed the small scattered ships to be an easy target to be captured ‘en-passant’ whilst on their way to join Cold-blood at his main base upon the Aber Mersea. For those Vikings it was to be a costly mistake.
Drustina’s captains had practiced many times in preparation for dealing with unexpected encounters. The appearance of the Viking flotilla was a perfect opportunity to test their training.
At first, the Mermaids made a poor showing of trying to escape as they turned away and appeared to be trying to go south and west towards Ynys Mann. Instead they were tempting the Cumbrians to follow them back to Dougle where the Cumbrians would have expected their Viking allies to assist them.
After a pursuit of several hours the handful of mermaids seemed to get trapped in the wide sweep of Dougle bay, the Cumbrians pursued them greedily without realising that the main body of Drustina’s fleet, namely the rest of the Mermaids plus Drustina’s Hibernian long-ships, were sweeping down from the North. Before the Cumbrians realised they were in a trap, Drustina’s main force was amongst them. Such was the care and training of Drustina’s force, the battle was soon over. The Cumbrians and Gollowayans numbered but ten long-ships against Drustina’s thirty longships and twenty mermaids not to mention a dozen other assorted vessels that had somehow become attached to Drustina’s fleet. They were mostly merchant ships that had become seconded to Drustina’s force by various instruments of agreement or fiscal expediency. When the brief skirmish was over Drustina had seven more long-ships at her disposal whilst the other three Cumbrian ships had been destroyed. As her men rooted through the spoils of the fight Drustina noticed a young lad’s body under a larger man’s body. Curious as to who the lad might be she heaved the larger corpse off the boy and discovered a nicely worked helmet lying half submerged in the bilge-water having obviously fallen or been knocked off the boy’s head.
As she dug it out of the blood-stained bilges she held it up to inspect it and Heliox stopped to admire it.
“That’s a nicely worked bit of kit. Are you going to keep it?”
Drustina studied the beautifully crafted face plates and nodded thoughtfully.
“Maybe, it’s too small for any of you lumbering men; it’ll fit me or even Gisela with a filler cap inside.”
So saying she was about to try it on then spotted a piece of the boy’s cheek bone and skin stuck to the face plate, the young Viking had obviously received a massive blow. She wrinkled her nose as she poked out the gruesome residue to remove it then shrugged and dipped the helmet over the side to wash it. Heliox wagged his head.
“Give it a good wash lioness, before you try it on.”
“He must have been high ranking but he was still too young to be fighting. Some of these Viking fathers are too bloody keen to blood their boys. The boy’s not even got any bum-fluff.”
Having thoroughly rinsed the helmet she fussed with the cheek plates and eventually got the headpiece sitting properly.
“It’ll need a thick woollen cap inside but it’s good fit once the dent is removed.”
Heliox nodded approvingly.
“D’you know, if you tuck up your hair inside, nobody would ever recognise you.”
“Except for this,” she replied tapping the feminine cuirass with notable breast mouldings.
“Well not at a distance,” Heliox added. “Keep it Lioness, it fits none of the men and it’s beautifully tooled haulm.”
“I intend to. Now let’s get these prize ships sorted and find a smith to fix this dent.”
The smith was soon found and Drustina watched as he deftly tapped out the deformity. Soon the haulm was as good as new. The situation concerning the ships was not so easy however. Once again the question arose ... what to do with the ships when they had insufficient trained men to sail them. Finally, the question was resolved by despatching the ships into the safe-keeping of the local Manx Celts who were slowly acclimatising to their new-found liberation. Drustina was amused and embarrassed when several hundred liberated Manxmen offered to serve with her and man the surplus ships. Refusing their immediate offer of alliance was difficult but she tried to explain without offending their pride.
“Gentlemen, my crews and my ships are highly trained and much experienced in sea-born warfare. Now whilst I recognise that you are certainly competent sailors, there is much more to operating together as a coherent, organised, fighting unit. On that basis I must regretfully refuse your offers to fight alongside us but you can at least join with our supply train and perhaps lend your protection to them when they transport supplies. You can be assured that these ships get perilously close to the action and there your services for protection will be most welcome. When can you be ready?”
Drustina smiled inwardly and exchanged a knowing glance with Udris. The Manx-men, whilst being more than willing to fight, were totally unprepared to put to sea immediately. They eventually started squabbling amongst themselves as to who should command each ship and who should sail with whom. Drustina quickly intervened and behaved somewhat patronisingly.
“As you see gentlemen, you are not yet a well organised unit for you cannot even agree who shall command. I therefore suggest that you sort out your differences then join us either in the Aber Mersea or the Aber Dyfrdwy. Might I suggest you practice some simple fighting skills as well or believe me, if you meet with any of Cold-blood’s ships, you will receive short thrift and no mercy.”
So saying, she signalled to her fleet and within the hour, the Manx hopefuls were left to wonder at the empty bay evacuated by the swift and organised departure of some sixty or seventy ships. They were left to consider the gift-horse that Drustina had left for them. Organising the seven valuable ships into a functional flotilla would test their discipline and organisation to the limit. The only element Drustina knew she could rely upon was the Manxmen’s loyalty for the Viking yoke had rubbed hard and cruelly upon their necks.
The following morning Drustina was relieved to see the red patches of Carl’s sails approaching from the west as they rendezvoused several miles north of the tail of the Burbo bank at the approaches to the Aber Mersea.
“So which way did Constin go?” She asked him.
“Mostly into the Aber Mersea though about half a dozen ships made for the Aber Dyfrdwy. I can’t think why.”
“Perhaps Cold-blood has already landed his forces there.”
Carl wagged his head.
“I doubt it; the land is flat with no potential to choose a battle ground. Most of it’s marshy anyway, marching on Chester across the marshes would be a slow messy business and he dare not try and sail up the Dyfrdwy. The river is winding and has forests on it’s banks; the Saxons could ambush him at every bend in the river. I think they just want to make sure that the Afon Dyfrdwy is closed off to any Saxon sea traffic.”
“That we can’t allow, we are that traffic.”
“So what are your intentions then Lioness?” Carl pressed her.
“We must claim the Dyfrdwy as ours if we can. It gives us water access right up to the city walls and that is a huge logistical advantage. I have no idea where Ethelred or Edrinor are yet. Reaching Chester would enlighten us and them. Having ships at his disposal on the Dyfrdwy will give Ethelred many useful options.”
“Like ferrying men around the Wirral to attack Cold-blood’s rear.” Gisela offered.
Drustina smiled and nodded.
“You’re learning young lady.”
With the new intelligence the Celts set about organising their first campaign, namely securing the Aber Dyfrdwy for their own ends. Drustina and Carl would lead a score of Mermaids and a dozen longships into the Aber Dyfrdwy to seek out the Viking precursors.
The whole of Drustina’s fleet initially set off together. Drustina felt she had to be cautious until she was certain that Harald’s ships were mostly located in the Aber Mersea. The massed fleet arrived at the tail of the Burbo bank of the Aber Mersea and for the first time since making her childhood oath, Drustina felt she had a real chance of fulfilling that promise. She scanned the sea and counted over one hundred and eighty ships. It now remained for Harald Cold-blood to make his move. A few bold sorties by the fastest mermaids in her fleet had determined that Harald had at least two hundred and fifty ships anchored in the fast-flowing, deep Aber Mersea. Drustina had no intentions of simply plunging headlong into the narrow ‘bottle-neck’ and mixing it blow for blow with Harald’s ships. In the confinement of the narrow mouth, it would be sheer folly, his longships vastly outnumbered hers and the Mermaids would lose the freedom to dash about at liberty between the two narrow rocky shores that choked the Mersea into a furious tidal surge four times a day, twice flooding and twice ebbing. She ordered her main fleet to loiter with intent just off the tail of the bank while she went hunting in the Aber Dwfrdwy.
Her substantial flotilla peeled away from the main force and raced south and east towards the wide shallow estuary of Aber Dyfrdwy. Without hesitating, Drustina’s ships swept into the estuary and quickly entered the main channel that led all the way to Chester. Eventually as the widely separated shores closed in Drustina realised they would inevitably encounter the Viking ships somewhere between the old village of Flint and the city walls of Chester. The last thing she wanted was to go blundering into an established landing of several longships with their crews girded for war!
By now the winding meanders of the Dyfrdwy were becoming banked on either side by intermittent forest and farm land, then the forested banks became so thick it was impossible to discern anything on the land. Carl came silently alongside and whispered.
“You could hide an army in those woods.”
“Exactly,” Drustina agreed, “if they only had six ships then it’s unlikely they’ll have more than a couple of hundred men free to land ashore while the rest guard their landing beach.”
“Yes but where?”
“Up river obviously, we haven’t seen them so far.”
“So what do we do?”
“Land our own men ashore, how many can we spare?”
“About four hundred I suppose. That leaves about fifteen men apiece to man each ship. D’you want me to lead them ashore?”
“I was thinking that would be my job.” Drustina replied.
Carl growled.
“Not bloody likely. You’re too bloody valuable, you shouldn’t really have come on this expedition anyway, you should have stayed with the main fleet.”
Drustina smiled disarmingly.
“So what if you got killed? I’d be a widow. Besides, the defenders of Chester would be reassured if they saw it was me.”
“You’re not fobbing me off with that shit Dru, you’re not going ashore into those woods; you’re too bloody vulnerable and it’s too risky. Every Viking in the Irish Sea knows that the lioness is abroad by now. Any woman with a sword, a shield and yellow hair will be deemed a legitimate target. Stay with the ships and stay in overall command, at least until we get close to Chester. We’re bound to encounter them before then.”
Drustina pulled a resentful expression but deep down she knew Carl was right. She would be far more useful on the main battlefield later on, visible to the allied Saxon and Mercian armies and a lucky talisman for her own mixed forces. Carl looked over the flotilla then decided to take Althred the Saxon Commander of Ethelred’s ships that had been the mainstay of Drustina’s force since leaving Sotona.
The landed force would then comprise mainly Saxons and function as a single tongued, coherent force in the confused thickets and undergrowth. Several Celtic warriors asked why they were excluded until Drustina made her feelings clear.
“When you are whispering in the bushes, it’s best that everybody whispers in the same tongue, then there’s less scope for blunder. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to cover yourselves in glory and the time is soon.”
Thus mollified the Celts and Gauls returned to man the ships as Carl led his force along the bank. Drustina followed several hundreds of meters behind so that the Vikings would not spot her ships before Carl’s force could get among them. The downside being that it would take Drustina several minutes to assist Carl if they were attacked first. Muffled oars dipped silently into the water as the longships slid silently alongside the banks.
For once the Mermaids were the worse option because the longships excelled at their designed function of rowing stealthily up rivers and land large numbers in force. Drustina for once had forsaken her beloved Mermaid and stood in the bow of one of the longships whilst peering nervously into the thick woodlands. She knew her men were there because one of Carl’s force would occasionally slip out of the thickets to confirm their progress.
It was almost an hour of unbearable tension as Carl and his men crept silently forward until a shout was heard and quickly followed by clashing swords.
The battle had commenced, or at least the first exploratory skirmishes.
~~o000o~~
On the Map the old river Dee is the dotted line between Chester in England and Flint in Wales.
More skirmishes with the Vikings ensue and Gisela wins her spurs. The Siege of Chester is relieved by Drustina's small victory on the banks of the River Dee (Afon Dyfrdwy.). Further plans and preparations ensue as Drustina prepares for the forthcoming battle.
Readers are advised to brush up their Geography of the two estuaries River Dee and River Mersey.
The Angry Mermaid 121.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 121
As the first clash of steel rang out from somewhere deeper in the woods that lined the river bank, Drustina’s ships turned as one to drive up hard upon the muddy flats. She was not even the first to leap ashore as Celts and Gauls hurled themselves furiously across the gap from their beached longships onto the soft grassy bank. Drustina quickly followed suit and cursed as she sank up to her knees in deceptive ground that looked at first glance like grass but turned out to be very soft mud.
She cursed and giggled as several hands reached out immediately to drag her free. Her own crew however were now forewarned and leapt further up the bank to make sure they would land unhindered. Within half a minute her whole army were assembled on the bank and poised to strike.
This time there was no chance to organise a well planned attack for nobody knew how many Vikings Carl’s band had encountered. They rushed silently into the trees and arrived piecemeal to find the Saxons fighting furiously against a Viking foe that was every bit as determined to win.
As groups of Celts and Gauls rushed into the fray, they had good cause to be thankful for Drustina’s requirement that they all wear a red patch of cloth somewhere high upon their bodies like a shoulder patch or wrapped around their helmets. Each friend was thus instantly recognisable, as had been their ships with red patches on their sails.
By the time Drustina arrived at the fight it was in full swing and the clash of metal was deafening. She glanced to her side and was relieved to find Gisela close beside her. No words were exchanged but Gisela knew that many of the men, who deemed themselves the best warriors, made it their business to keep close to their Lioness. This was partly to protect her and partly because they knew Drustina usually ended up where the fighting was thickest because enemies quickly recognised her and endeavoured to kill her. The inevitable press by Vikings all keen to be the man deemed to have killed the sorceress invariably made the fighting thickest and most furious wherever she fought.
Gisela’s senses were almost overwhelmed by the deafening clash of swords and furious roars of rage that accompanied the cries and curses of wounded despair. She swung her sword more in desperation and panic than with any logic or plan but somehow she survived, mostly because she was guided by Drustina’s higher pitched calls to organise those around her. She was deeply thankful that she recognised at least a dozen voices from her own crew coupled with the Lioness’s distinctly higher pitched voice for it gave Gisela location and orientation as she desperately fought for survival.
The only certain words she remembered of the whole fight was when there was a brief second of respite when she found herself alone as her companions stepped aside to fend off another group of Vikings. For a fraction of a second she found herself alone and in panic with several Vikings lunging towards her and no seeming back up. Then she felt strong arms grab her from behind and a rough voice bellow above the clamour.
“Get between us Girl and face your sword to them!”
She was physically yanked backwards and dumped between two massive Gauls where she quickly recovered from her panic. Even as she raised her sword, the ranks of her own companions closed to form a wall and suddenly the onrushing Vikings realised the easy target was now a phalanx of swords. She thought to ask had anybody seen the Lioness but realised if she did it would distract her companions if they started to look around. With a cold flood filling her belly, Gisela realised she had lost sight of her leader and mentor but in the desperate press of sword-play, for that moment, The Lioness would have to fend for herself. Gisela was too desperately engaged in sword fights to think of anything but survival.
After one successful strike she suddenly realised why the two Gauls had beset her on both sides. The Gauls, with their heavy broad swords could smash and swipe without attention to precision while Gisela, with her lighter, faster, and sharper sword, could squeeze between her human buttresses then pick out any vulnerable points on the Viking assailants and strike with deadly accuracy. It was no accident that after four fatalities lay at their feet, the trio found themselves at the apex of an ‘ad-hoc’ shield wall that was proving a fearsome obstacle to any Viking ambition. At the very tip of that apex, a shining slender blade whipped out and struck like a viper’s sting to bring certain injury and probable death to any bold enough or incensed enough to attack it.
Eventually the ground before Gisela’s apex became clear of live Vikings and obstructed by dead ones. The men had time to cast about and determine their next tactic. Gisela now had time to ask.
“Has anybody seen her?”
“She was over there earlier by the blasted Ash stump.” A voice called from the end of the sword phalanx.
Gisela now deemed it admissible to call in her female soprano to identify herself clearly, she screeched as loud as coherence dictated.
“Lioness! Where are you?”
To everybody’s relief a female voice replied.
“Over here girl! I’m behind the stump of an ash tree. What d’you want?”
Amidst the dense forest and undergrowth it was hard at first for Gisela to see anything but the taller Gauls motioned the sword-wall forward towards the sound and found their beloved leader resting against the stump with several of the original Saxons attending.
“Are you all right Lioness?” One of the Gauls asked.
“A few minor cuts and a sore head.”
Drustina ruefully held up the beautifully tooled haulm she had claimed from the dead, Cumbrian Viking boy and fingered the dent of a sword strike that would have assuredly killed her but for the haulm’s protection. Gisela’s eyes and several Gaul’s eyes widened with concern as Gisela found her voice.
“My god Lioness! So at long last you have taken the Saxon’s advice!” She squeaked.
“And it served me well little sister.”
Gisela wiped some blood from her cheek and realised it was her blood, nothing serious but evidence enough that she had been in the thick of it, then she looked around for Carl.
“Where is he by the way?”
“He and Althred’s Saxons are making their way upriver along the bank looking to mop up any resistance. We must get back to the ships and join him by sailing alongside his marching men. Somewhere up ahead are the Viking ships so we must keep our main force massed together, only the ships can enable us to do that.”
As they made their way back to the ships, the two Gauls gave a glowing account of Gisela’s part and the Lioness nodded approvingly. Then she asked Gisela.
“Were you afraid?”
Having clearly ‘won her spurs’ Gisela now felt no shame in admitting her fears.
“Yes, especially when I found myself alone; fortunately these two giants pulled me out of trouble. After that I was too busy and too desperate to be frightened.”
Drustina nodded sagely and smiled thankfully at the two Gauls before giving some sound advice to Gisela.
“That’s what companionship is all about princess. You will find your bond with your two defenders to be a tighter one perhaps even than the ties of love. You know you can trust them and they know they can trust you.”
Gisela then had a deep insight as she asked Drustina self consciously.
“Which is your tighter bond to Carl, the bond of love and sex or the bond of battle and trust?”
Drustina was flummoxed for once as she searched her own heart for an answer. That answer escaped her as he admitted.
“Gisela; I honestly don’t know. We love each other in the bed and we would die for each other on the battlefield. I can’t determine the difference.”
Gisela felt a natural pang of envy, almost jealousy.
“You’re lucky Lioness. You have both, you have it all.”
“So will you one day princess, so will you.”
“I wish Lioness; I can only wish.”
With these words they clambered aboard their ships and resumed the journey up to Chester.
~o0o~
As they rowed cautiously up river, an arrow with green ribbon suddenly thunked into the planking of Drustina’s ship. It was a clear signal from Carl or Althred. The flotilla held water as Drustina steered into the bank where Althred stood waiting. Once ashore, Althred enlightened her.
“The Vikings are hauled up high out of the water because the tide has turned and they are high and dry. They cannot refloat their ships until the flood tide returns.”
“Stupid buggers,” Drustina snorted derisively. “Where’s Carl?”
“With the main body of men keeping tabs on the Vikings, he’s thrown a wide cordon of men around the landing area to prevent any fleeing Vikings from rejoining the ships.”
“How many remain with their ships?”
“We both estimate about two hundred. There are a dozen ships so most of the Vikings are either killed in the earlier fight or scattered through the woods.”
“So there could be up to about three hundred Vikings still prowling around.” Drustina mused. “We left about a hundred dead back there in the woods.”
“So we still outnumber them,” Gisela added.”
“Provided we keep our forces concentrated.” Drustina replied.
“So what’s the plan?” Althred asked.
“The next High tide is in the early morning just after midnight. If we hold off until then, we can attack when the full moon is at its highest and casting the greatest light tonight. Until then, our men can spell each other keeping watches while the others eat or sleep back at the ships. It will be dark when we strike so the password is ‘silent bear’. Spread the men amongst three watches of two hours apiece and we attack when their ships are about to float.”
Drustina and her commanders drew back to Carl’s cordon and they settled down to sleep. A couple of times there was a brief commotion as retreating Vikings blundered into Carl’s silent cordon but otherwise most of Drustina’s men got a few hours sleep. It was during Drustina’s watch that the Viking ships showed signs of beginning to float and she silently prepared her forces. To her amazement, some of the Vikings stationed to guard their ships had actually lit a fire. From the dark shadows of the woods, many Vikings were silhouetted against the flames thus making Drustina’s job easier. Once again, the attack came silently and all Drustina’s men had blackened their faces with the rich black marshy slime. In many instances they were upon the weary Vikings before the Norsemen realised what was happening. Heavily outnumbered they fell quickly to the allied swords.
Once again, preparation and training had paid off and the captured Viking ships were quickly re-anchored in the middle of the river.
At dawn, the Viking beach-head was alive with Victorious allied soldiers gathering booty and preparing to sail up the river to Chester. By noon, they arrived at the City Walls of Chester to be hailed as saviours. The commander of the Garrison ushered Drustina and her commanders in and explained.
“Ethelred is two or three days south and marching as fast as he can. While Edrinor has crossed the Pennine tops and is approaching from Mancunium or we prefer to call it Manchester.”
“How many days?” Drustina pressed him.
“Four days at least.”
“Damn!” Drustina cursed as did Carl and Althred. “When did the Mercian decide to move?”
“Why d’you curse?”
“Cold-blood has his forces assembled on the north shore of Aber Mersea. He only has to cross that estuary and he is landed on the Wirral shore. It is but half a day to Chester at most. Edrinor will be too bloody late!”
“How many men have you?” The Garrison commander asked.
“Here; now, about five hundred. I have altogether about one hundred and fifty ships; namely these ships at Chester and the main fleet stationed off the tail of the Mersea Bank. All told I have about three thousand men.”
“How many men could your fleet land ashore at one landing?”
“If the ships are to fight at sea about four thousand at most. If they are simply to pack warriors to bursting and throw them ashore in one punch then I suppose about five thousand if the ships are to remain seaworthy and workable. Why? Have you got a couple of thousand men to spare?”
The Garrison commander wagged his head.
“Sadly no, but when Ethelred arrives he might have enough men to split his force if they can be delivered quickly and land a hard enough blow.”
“Where?” Drustina asked, intrigued by the man’s thoughts.
“I don’t know as yet but the Wirral shore somewhere; a place where we can flank Cold-blood’s army.”
“We have a problem with that tactic. My main fleet is the cork that seals the bottle that is the Mersea’s narrow neck. I cannot release them from their vigil to come all the way up the Dyfrdwy, pick up and army and return to the Mersea. Cold-blood will seize a perfect opportunity to break out of the Mersea and spread his fleet wide. With sea room he has a vast advantage in numbers. While he remains bottled up we can hold him because the sand-banks at the Aber Mersea will restrict his longships. Our Mermaids can out manoeuvre him amongst the shallows. There are many shoals and dangers in the Mersea but I have the benefit of many childhood years trading those waters.”
“Like you did for the Fresians.”
Drustina hesitated as she first had to recollect. ‘There had been so many battles.’ Then she remembered.
“Oh yes, Queen Dalcimon and her son Andrar; where did you hear of that?”
“One of the priests despatched by Ethelred this spring. He knew of many of your exploits, he claims to know you, his name is Bishop Celyn.”
Drustina paused for a moment then recovered from her shock.
“Oh, him!”
The commander frowned.
“You don’t sound enamoured.”
“Where is he now?” Drustina pressed.
“He stayed here for a few weeks then journeyed north to preach amongst the heathen Vikings.”
She nodded as a silent wave of relief overtook her but she still wondered how much poison he had sown in the Caestrian's minds. Only time would tell her that and she had no idea if she had that time, especially as she was facing the biggest battle of her life.
The more pressing question was whether she should return to her main fleet patrolling the approaches to the Aber Mersea or make contact with Ethelred. She called Carl, Althred ,Gisela and the Garrison Commander together to discuss the way forward. Drustina re-iterated their main objective.
“I believe we must defend and secure Chester at all costs until Ethelred and Edrinor have arrived and combined their armies, the question is how.”
There was total agreement upon the objective but some differences concerning the method. The Garrison commander expressed his concerns.
“I have almost bled the region dry of able-bodied men but I still do not have the men to sufficiently man the walls.”
“Have you approached the Cambrians; my people.” Drustina wondered.
The commander shook his head. He had no authority to treat with people deemed to be historic enemies, that was the duty of kings and he explained.
“I have a letter from Ethelred stating that he is approaching Celtic chieftains at every juncture as he marches north. His route parallels the Cambrian borders so I presumed he would be asking for their help. The problem is the Celtic principalities are very fractured and divided. Few of the Marcher chieftains have ever encountered the Viking threat so they do not deem them a serious danger.
My orders are to keep Chester secure from all foes and, until but very recently, that is since you appeared Lioness; we have previously deemed the Cambrian Celts to be, if not a threat, then antagonistic.”
Drustina nodded resignedly. Several centuries of bitter strife betwixt Celt and Saxon had left deep scars. As a child herself, even after her bitter experiences with the Norsemen, she had never once considered seeking help from the detested Saxons. It was only after finding herself in ‘mutualis extremis’ in the Middle sea that she had been thrown together with the Saxon galley slaves and forced to treat with them. After years of fighting alongside them she had eventually overcome her childhood detestations. As she told herself many times, ‘she had grown up! She had even married one!!’
The commander’s words sowed the germ of an idea in her mind and when he finished she sucked her tongue.
“I might be able to get you a few hundred men by tomorrow but it will mean my absenting myself from my fleet for a few days longer.”
The commander furrowed his brow.
“How so? I’ve stripped the country around here of all able men for fifty miles radius.”
“Yes, but what of the north Cambrians? Dynbych and Flint.”
“Would they come?”
“They have suffered from Viking depredations every bit as much as Saxons, possibly more so.”
“I hate to ask this but can I trust them?”
“D’you trust me?”
“Of course! You wound me by asking that.”
Drustina grinned.
“We have no time to be too sensitive about our own feelings commander. Saxon and Celt have common cause against the Norsemen.
Many Cambrians will come if I call and every sword will count; not to mention every arrow.”
“Well I would welcome them on that basis.”
“I’ll waste no more time then and organise a recruitment campaign. Do you have any spare supplies of food, my rations are perilously low.”
The commander grinned expansively.
“If there’s one thing we have it is food Lioness. The shire of Chester is one of the richest in all Britannia. The farmland all around us is the richest there can be. Our granaries are full to bursting.”
Drustina reflected philosophically, ‘that was why everybody fought over the Chester shire; rich fertile soil and many, many miles of it.’
“Then lets waste no time.” She finished.
The re-victualing of her fleet went apace as her men wondered at the vast larders stuffed full of corn and other welcome supplies. Even cattle were slaughtered and fresh meat shared around the ships. There was much satisfaction and merriment as the allies marvelled at the largess.
The following morning Carl and Althred took some of Drustina’s flotilla back to meet with and resupply the main fleet cordoning the approaches to Aber Mersea. Meanwhile, Drustina took several mermaids and the remaining captured longships along the Welsh shore on a recruitment campaign. To her immense satisfaction she soon filled her ships with volunteers and returned to Chester with over half a thousand Cambrians. The Garrison commander could barely believe his eyes as Drustina returned with ships almost sinking with men as she explained.
“I chose mainly archers with a smattering of noble swords. I believe the initial tactic is to defend the walls and that is best achieved with arrows. The other good news is that there are at least another thousand willing volunteers organising a march along the shore to reach you as fast as feet will allow. Carl will be despatching our supply ships to assist them soon. He will embark them wherever he finds them and hopefully, by tomorrow morning, those extra men will be here.”
The Garrison commander heaved an immense sigh of relief.
“One and a half thousand men! You work miracles Lioness.”
“No just imagination and organisation. Have you news of Ethelred or Edrinor.”
“Yes, Ethelred will be here by tomorrow night or the morning after. Edrinor two or three days yet.”
Drustina wagged her head as she reflected that Cold-blood had probably started crossing the Mersea that very day. She had to get back to her fleet! Her last word to the Garrison commander rang out as she cast off.
“Have plenty of food made ready. Marching men need food and lots of it if they are to fight effectively.”
“That we can do Lioness, see already your Cambrians are feeding!”
Drustina smiled and raised her sword in salute. The ebb tide took her mermaids swiftly down to the sea, passing Udris and the supply ships as they gathered Cambrians all the way along the Welsh shore. She rendezvoused with her fleet at the dead of night and met with her commanders even before the sun had risen. The main battle plan was set in motion as all of Drustina’s longships girded for war and men steeled themselves for the fight of their lives.
~oo000oo~
Having relieved Chester Drustina now visits the River Mersea (River Mersey) to determine how best the obstruct Harald Cold-bllod in his efforts to occupy Southern Britannia from the north.
This was roughly how Chester looked when it was first built by the Romans. Note the Bridge crossing the River Dee from the south.
Plan of the Upper Mersey showing the River Weaver up which Drustina escaped.
The Angry Mermaid 122.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon. 122
As the allied ships approached the narrow entrance to Aber Mersea, Carl called across to Drustina.
“What d’you think Udris will do?”
“I suggested that he wait in Chester with his ships until Ethelred arrives. It gives the Wessex king another option to redistribute men using ships.”
Carl nodded. The logistical option held great potential but he secretly wondered if Ethelred had learned the lessons of the Solanta campaign. He looked up the Mersea and had his first sight of Harald Cold-blood’s massed fleet.
“By the Gods, how many sail d’you reckon?”
Drustina paid no attention to Carl’s curse as she concentrated on counting. Finally she gave up and confessed.
“There’s more than two hundred and we have only about one hundred and seventy.”
“How many of them are just merchantmen ferrying supplies across the river?”
“It doesn’t matter, it looks as though he’s using everything he’s got to ferry men and horses.”
“So is it to be plan A?” Carl asked.
“It seems there’s no choice. It’s going to be a crude slogging match and this flood tide is rushing us towards the battle. I’m
hoping our speed will give us momentum when we crash into their flanks.”
Drustina’s heart thumped with nervous tension as the shores on both sides swept by at an alarming pace. With her whole fleet behind her, if she had even tried to turn around, the massive longship hulls would have crushed her beloved mermaid under their forefeet. Silently she offered up a prayer to her gods. As the words slipped through her brain a call from Heliox distracted her. Heliox was on the other side from Carl and he had a slightly different perspective. Whatever he had noticed was of sufficient concern to make him close to within hailing distance. His words crossed the turbulent muddy water.
“Their ships are not beam on to us close by the southern shore. They seem to be showing us their arses. What trick are they playing?”
Drustina waved her sword to confirm she had received the message then she steered to port to try and approximate to Heliox’s perspective. As her angle of view widened she could see that Heliox was right, there was no doubt that Cold-blood’s ships were turning as they approached the southern shore and presenting their sterns to Drustina’s massed attack.
Longships were designed to meet a foe head on; the arrangement of the oars and high prow were orientated for a frontal assault. Showing the stern left the steersman vulnerable and exposed the rigging and stern sheets to attack by fire arrows. Drustina racked her brains to try and fathom out what the Vikings were up to. She called anxiously to Heliox.
“They should be turning to face us by now. What are they hesitating for?”
By now, Carl had noticed the same anomaly and he was waving furiously as he also swung to port thus putting the three lead mermaids all close to the north shore.
“What are they up to!?” He called.
“I don’t know.” Drustina shouted. “I’m signalling to Althred to stop the longship charge. Something’s not right here.”
A red arrow streaked skywards and for long moments pandemonium seemed to erupt through Drustina’s fleet as uncertainty piled upon suspicion. She asked herself again.
‘What the hell is going on with Cold-blood? Is he sailing his ships in a circle or something?' She wondered.
She studied the strange circuitous actions of Cold-blood’s fleet and tried to make sense until slowly a sneaking suspicion crept into her thoughts.
‘The Aber Mersea was narrow at the mouth but the estuary was shaped like a stomach and it widened further inland. If the tidal rush through the narrow mouth slowed when the belly of the estuary widened, she wondered if the siltation patterns were forcing the bigger Viking ships to go around a sandbar somewhere further up river. There was only one possible way to find out and it was dangerous. A fast Mermaid ship would have to try and test the idea by sailing close to Harald’s conveyor line and watching how his ships responded. There was no other way to make certain. If Drustina’s fleet simply charged pell-mell upriver with the flooding tide driving her on, there was no knowing how or where her ships might end up if there was a sandbar. The strength of the tidal currents was one of the reasons why ships favoured the Aber Dyfrdwy for trading on this coast, the tidal streams were far less powerful and handling the ships was therefore easier.’
She decided a foray upriver by one Mermaid would be suicidal so she shouted her ideas to her Commanders.
“We will have to try and determine why they’re crossing the river like that!”
“What’s your plan?” Carl bellowed across.
“We three, approach where they are crossing and try to provoke them into some sort of logical response.”
“And when they do respond, which they’ll have to do eventually?” Heliox asked.
“We’ll have to rely on speed to skedaddle out of there.”
“Back against the flood tide?” Carl objected. “You’d better take more men, we can’t sail against this tide in this wind, we’d have to row out of trouble.”
Drustina had hoped she could get away with it but Carl’s objection settled the doubts in her mind. She would need extra men to help with rowing if they hoped to return against the flood which was growing stronger.
As each of the command Mermaids approached the other ships there was no shortage of volunteers and the three ships were quickly double manned on the oars with archers as opposed to swordsmen. Drustina had no intentions of mixing it with the vast Viking fleet strung out across the river. Within thirty minutes the three Mermaids were racing up the estuary towards the Viking supply train.
Eventually the Vikings showed clear signs of response as a dozen longships set out from the north shore further up river. Drustina noted that these ships were not loaded with men and equipment so it was obvious they were setting out to address the threat of three ships approaching quickly.
Once again however, they first steered north along the northerly shore before eventually turning south-west to cross the wide belly of the river. Eventually the Viking warships composed themselves in a conventional formation to confront the threat of Drustina’s three, fast-moving, smaller ships.
As each commander judged the Viking approach it was Carl who first noticed the turbulence around them and he bellowed across to Drustina.
“We are in shallow water! I’m sounding the lead!”
As he spoke his leadsman was swinging the lead and called out ‘one fathom’!
Carl had already swung his ship around but realised he was now inside the Viking line of approach. Drustina realised he was trapped unless he could reverse his course and row back quickly.
Finally the riddle resolved itself to Drustina.
The Mersea certainly got shallower as they went further up river but the channel was NOT midstream. The sandbank was slap in the centre of the wide belly of the river while the two separate navigable channels ran close to the north and south shores. The Viking ships were forced to sail upstream as they set out from the north shore against the flood tide, then they had to cross around the tail of the bank then finally head south and downstream with the flood tide along the south shore to land on the Wirral shore. They could not cross the Sand bar.
Drustina cursed a happy curse as a solution to beating the Vikings began to form in her head. However, her immediate problem was helping Carl get clear. He was trapped behind the Viking line in the shallower water on the bank. For him it was stale mate. He couldn’t escape through the Viking line but they couldn’t get close to him and they were all out of arrow range. Until the tide rose high enough to allow the Vikings to cross over the banks, Carl was safe.
High water was due in about two hours enough time for Drustina to concentrate her longships in the deeper water while her Mermaids gave her the added advantage of attacking any enemy ship from all sides as they sailed freely without fear of grounding. She decided to concentrate close to the southern shore on her starboard side and attack the Viking ships where they were turning to proceed up the southern channel. The Viking’s freedom to go where they pleased would be limited by their draught and the mid-channel sandbank. She came alongside Heliox and explained her plans as she transferred some of her men to help with rowing Heliox’s ship back against the tide.
“Tell Althred to separate the ships. The mermaids are to join Carl in the shallower water while the longships follow me into the Southern Channel. Carl will be able to attack any Vikings from the shallow water while we make a heavyweight charge down the channel close to the Wirral shore.”
Heliox objected.
“Your ship isn’t a heavyweight Lioness. You’re certain to get sunk or killed.”
“My plan is to get very close to the southern shore where the water shallows again. Hopefully I’ll be able to avoid being boarded by bigger, deeper longships. Besides, I’ll be in close contact with Althred’s ships.”
Heliox was obviously not happy but they had to somehow convey the plan to Althred. Reluctantly he prepared to row back with the message then he had one last thought.
“What about the Viking princess. Do you want her to come with us?”
Gisela cursed before Drustina could offer her safety.
“Damn the Vikings to Hell! I’ll die by your side if I have to Lioness.”
“Very laudable girl but we’ll be in great danger. I might not come out of this. It’s your last chance to get yourself a safer position.”
“No! I mean it, better dead than my father’s prisoner.”
Drustina shrugged; there was no more time to waste. She fired a green arrow in the air thus calling Althred’s ships to advance towards her as Heliox angled back down the river to meet them with Drustina’s instructions. Even as she and Heliox separated, the roars of the Viking longships were already audible across the gurgling, swirling river. She turned to Gisela.
“Get ready by the tiller girl; my bow is going to be needed. Steer for the Southern shore; the ships over there are mostly merchantmen. I’m not ready to mix it single handedly with the longships. I must hang off until Althred gets here.”
Gisela need no further encouragement as each crewman nocked an arrow into his bow and set it beside him on the thwarts ready to fire if needs be. Then to a man, they rowed furiously across to the southern shore.
The six Viking longships set out after her but after a few hundred metres they were forced to face the overwhelming threat of Althred’s ships as they plunged southwards with the tide forcing them along. Drustina calculated with a sagging fear in her belly that she might have delayed too long, The Viking ships would be upon her before Althred could assist. She cursed as she realised she had one option and that was to steer south down the channel with the Vikings in pursuit while Althred’s ships would follow on.
This in itself would have worked except that returning Viking ships were crossing back across the Mersea. These ships were rowing against the stream as they were going to collect more of Cold-blood’s forces from the North shore. As Drustina looked down the channel she could see at least three Viking Longships steering straight towards her. Unless she could get past them she knew she was in for a sure-fire hammering, probably a fatal hammering. At that location, the option to run close to the shore was denied her because Cold-blood’s army was spread out along the river bank as formations of troops were being readied to march on Chester. Now even Gisela could see the danger. The fear was clear in the tremor of her voice as she asked.
“How will we get past them Lioness?”
For moments Drustina stared mesmerised at the approaching trio as a plan escaped her. She had no idea how much water she had on the other side of the channel and the Wirral shore promised certain death or capture. She sighed as she cursed herself for having been so careless.
“I don’t know Gisela. The Wirral shore is a definite no and I ... wait a minute! Those idiots aren’t keeping formation! Look, they haven’t spread themselves across the channel and they’re actually racing each other to get to us first. They’re beginning to form a line astern!”
“So why are they racing each other?” Gisela asked.
“They want to be the first to get to me I suppose ... they’re after the big kudos they would get if they killed me.”
“How do they know it’s you?” Gisela asked thoughtfully.
“Well it’s ob-!” Drustina stopped in mid word as the dawning struck her.
‘Gisela was right! How indeed did they know?’
She looked around and all the mermaid ships looked similar each with a red patch on the sail and more or less identical rigs. It was virtually impossible to tell any mermaids apart and certainly impossible to discern the identities of any commanders. The distances were still too great. Drustina wagged her head for the answer escaped her
“I don’t know princess. But they’re hell bent on getting to me and that’s to my advantage.
“Ship oars everybody and tighten sail!”
“What’re you going Lioness?” Gisela squealed.
Drustina had no time to explain as she called out further orders.
“Six men form a turtle around me. The rest of you make turtles for your comrades and make ready you bows.”
“Surely you’re not going to attack them!” Gisela cried fearfully. “They’ll overwhelm us!”
“Just get down below the rail and make ready your bow or use your shield to protect another. Quickly!”
Her crew were far more trusting and better trained than the young Viking princess and they quickly formed their defences as Drustina prepared her approach. Gisela watched mesmerised as Drustina caught all the wind available in her sails and started to angle narrowly across the lead longship’s bow.
“He’ll ram us!” Gisela screamed as she crouched down with just her eyes visible.”
“Shut-up girl and just have your bow ready damn you!”
With the following wind on her quarter and the powerful tide driving her along, the Angry Mermaid gathered pace like a racehorse making for the finish post. Then, just as it seemed that the stem of the longship would cleave into the Angry Mermaid’s shoulder, Drustina threw the tiller over for a couple of seconds before heaving it back again. The Angry Mermaid ‘dog-legged’ violently but
just enough to put her on a perfectly reciprocal course to the longship but about six feet apart.
Before anybody else had realised it, the Angry Mermaid was slamming at high speed past the longship and smashing the Viking’s oars as she sped past. Within seconds the damage was done and the longship was swinging around violently; all her port side oars were splintered and useless as the broken blades were left floating in a trail of mute evidence to the hardness of the Angry Mermaid’s Welsh oak planking.
Two Vikings on the longship had the wit to try and leap across to board Drustina’s ship but such was the combined passing speeds that they injured their ankles as they landed on the Mermaid’s rail. It took but a moment for the Mermaid’s crewmen to despatch them into the sucking gurgling waters of the muddy Mersea.
Deep breaths of relief erupted amongst the Mermaid’s crew but Drustina had little time to sit on any laurels. The Second ship was approaching fast and already its captain was taking action to avoid a repeat. He had his oars-men ‘backwater’ momentarily to upset the approach speeds and subsequent angles that Drustina was trying to judge. Drustina cursed as she had to take avoiding action that took her too wide of the longships oars. Drustina’s ship came storming past the Viking but he was already preparing to strike. Drustina recognised the glint of spear-blades flash occasionally below the Viking’s rail and she called out a warning.
“All down and tighten your turtles! Spears!!”
The crew knew what this meant. Spears were much heavier than arrows so the sheer force and weight could readily dislodge the shields of the turtle-shell. Drustina also crouched down behind her own shrinking turtle so that only her hand was visible as she peered through a tiny gap. If a spear blade managed to pierce the tiny sight hole then it was truly bad luck. She made herself as small as possible and winced as a rain of spears thudded and slammed into the woodwork or any soft flesh that happened to inadvertently expose itself. Drustina felt a spear whistle past her shelter and just graze her white knuckles as she flinched from the thunderous cascade of Viking heavy artillery.
“Shit! That was close!” She cursed as she peered through the tiny slot to try and find the third Viking ship.
Her efforts proved in vain for there followed a violent crash that told Drustina they had slammed into the bow of the last longship
The Angry Mermaid was now grinding and slewing violently as Viking oars snapped like carrots and the Drustina’s lighter ship bounced and scraped down its side. Drustina screamed her orders mainly to galvanise her crew into recognising the urgency but even as she drew her bow she could see Vikings leaping wildly as they sought to board the impudent invader. Fortunately her crew had their bows to hand and several boarders were pierced before they could recover their balance to leap forward amongst Drustina’s men.
Nevertheless a score of Viking swordsmen were quickly amongst the foremost turtle and the battle became very real as blades clashed in resounding cacophony of rage.
For her part, Drustina was forced to attend to her ship by intermittently checking her rudder then firing off another deadly arrow as and where she thought it would do the most harm. Throughout the action there was the constant cracking and snapping as more Viking oars got broken before the Angry Mermaid finally broke free and clear. However, the fight was not over. There were still a score of Vikings fighting furiously in the forepart and they were giving a good account of themselves. Drustina screeched to Gisela.
“Take the tiller girl, I am going forward! Steer to take us further upriver, past that creek where these ships came out.”
Gisela grabbed the tiller and Drustina immediately gathered her stern crew to assist the faltering bow crew. The only viable tactic was a furious charge by dashing along the thwarts and pitching headlong into the middle of the swordfight. The sudden advent of a dozen extra swords eventually subdued the Vikings but not before a score of her own men had been killed or injured. As the last Viking fell, Drustina slumped exhausted against the mast only to see that more longships were emerging from the creek where Cold-blood had been disembarking his forces. Edburg the cook wagged his head as he attended to his own wound.
“We can’t face those Lioness, the men are half done!”
Drustina span around to look and saw a substantial portion of Althred’s fleet bearing down upon them. Never was a fleet of ships more welcome.
“No need Edburg. Althred’s ships will take care of them. Once we are above the creek we’ll stop and take stock.”
The Angry Mermaid had recovered control and the crew were tidying up while Drustina and several of the more experienced warriors were checking the hull for damage. They found a cracked plank right at the waterline but for the time being, the calm waters of the Mersea would pose no threat. With the hull checked out they checked the rigging and loitered just above the creek until another group of longships emerged from the same creek. Instead of going to assist the first squadron against Althred these ships immediately turned to starboard and set off in immediate pursuit of The Angry Mermaid. It was obvious they were dead set on capturing the Angry Mermaid and her captain.
Drustina cursed nervously because her crew were already depleted through injury and death whilst furthermore exhausted from rowing and fighting. She scanned around looking for inspiration but none came. All she could do was tighten her sheets and make all sail but this took her further and further away from her own fleet and any support they could offer. Besides her ships were too busy engaging Vikings. Fortunately by concentrating on one shore and one channel, Drustina’s fleet had inadvertently divided the Viking fleet in two. The success of the sea battle now lay in her commander’s hands. Drustina was cut off and isolated by a dozen Viking longships furiously pursuing her further and further up river.
As the rigging creaked with the strain of the tension in the sheets, Gisela turned nervously to the Lioness.
“We are going to have to land somewhere; this river does not go on forever.”
“I know that girl!” Drustina snapped impatiently as the tension and fear began to show. “I’m hoping to find a shallow beach where we can land further up the sand than the Vikings. Then our only hope is to make a run for it inland and hope to hide somewhere.”
“Then I shall cook as much food as I can for there’s no knowing when we will next eat ... if at all.” Edburg declared prosaically.
Drustina had to smile at his phlegmatic behaviour and it served to ease her own tension. She apologised for snapping at the Viking princess who immediately forgave her. She offered to take the helm to let Drustina go amongst her men and explain their options. After circulating amongst her men she returned aft to study her Viking pursuers. She sighed with relief that they were making no headway against them. A call from the masthead gained her attention as the youngest, lightest crewman called down.
“There seems to be a smaller river emptying into the main river up ahead!”
Despite her fatigue and injuries, Drustina wasted no time in climbing up to see for herself. Panting and grunting with pain, she joined the lookout who pointed towards the shore.
“Just behind that hillock. I saw it just now. When we get past that hillock you’ll see it again. There’s a lot of marsh and reeds.”
Drustina perched precariously and uncomfortably for a few minutes until they cleared the hillock and she got a good look at the tributary. It flowed out through some flat marshland but further inland it curved around behind a headland and out of sight. Compared with the wide expanse of the Mersea, the smaller river offered a choke point that prevented the Viking longships from attacking from on all sides. If she took the Angry Mermaid up the river there would be no turning back and at some future point they would have to abandon their beloved ship and retreat overland. Her biggest problem was her wounded. They would have to be left behind to some unknown fate but definitely a fatal one. The Vikings were not known for their clemency. Her only hope was to push on up the narrow river and hope to land amongst woodlands where there was some hope of hiding the wounded. Unusually she did not consult with anybody as she chose what appeared to be the only option offering a reasonable chance of escape.
Having made her choice, Drustina pulled hard on the tiller and the Angry Mermaid turned hard to starboard. Gisela and her crew turned nervous eyes towards their leader and the same thought was running through everybody’s mind.
‘Was the tributary long enough and deep enough to enable their ship to reach the shelter of the trees?’
At least if they made it to the forest at the bottom of the high escarpment then there was hope for them.
Without needing any prompting from Drustina two men joined the lookout forward and started casting the lead to check the depths. Another nimble lad joined the lookout high up the mast to help spot any shallows, sandbanks or rocks. The rest of the men prepared to ship the oars that the Angry Mermaid carried. They would use them conventionally to help advance their progress or alternatively use them to fend off obstructions or push the ship over any shallow mud banks. When no more progress was possible, it would be time to abandon ship.
The two main military advantages Drustina had won for her men was that firstly, the Viking ships, being bigger and deeper, would not be able to advance as far and as quickly up the smaller river and secondly the heavily armed Vikings could not disembark and run along the river banks. The estuary was surrounded by extensive marshes and bogs that would have sucked an armed man to his thighs and trapped him. Drustina could see that the marshes extended quite far inland and it would take several hours before any foot soldiers would find suitably hard ground to run along the river banks.
The further up the river she progressed the more she realised she was actually gaining on her pursuers. After an hour of cautious progress all she could see was six Viking masts and sails sticking up above the beds of high reeds. She looked up at her own sail and realised it was almost limp and adding little to their progress. She had a brainwave!
‘If she lowered her mast and sail she would be invisible behind the tall reeds!’
‘Fortune smiles on the brave,’ she told herself as she explained her idea to her crew.
Despite their fatigue, they could see the logic and weary nods concurred with her plan.
The sails were quickly lowered and the main mast was taken down. Only the shorter foremast was left standing because it was smaller and narrower and at a distance, was hard to distinguish from the tall reeds. The young lookout was helped up the narrow foremast and he lodged himself on the small truck block. It wasn’t comfortable but it would not be for long. Only until they could be sure that the Viking longships could progress no further. The sharp-eyed lad spent all his time peering aft and keeping track of the pursuing sails.
“Just keep us informed of any changes lad!” Drustina called up to encourage him.
To everybody’s relief, the river proved to be quite long and they managed to progress to within a couple of miles of the high rocky ridge called ‘The Frod’.
Woody thickets now encroached to the river bank and it eventually became impossible to force the Angry Mermaid any further. Drustina felt a quiet satisfaction for she and all the crew could see that the Vikings would never be able to force their ships so far upstream. They would have been set afoot several miles down-stream where the marshy land would have impeded progress for several hours.
The Vikings would have squelch through deep, treacherous puddles and sharp reed stalks that would act like dragon’s teeth. She did not envy them.
She did not have time to sit and reflect however; the pressing problem was how to get her wounded safe. She had three seriously wounded, four slightly wounded out of a crew that had started out numbering twenty five less two dead. There were fourteen able bodied men, and two female warriors. The four slightly wounded could walk and that was a good thing but the three seriously wounded were going nowhere far.
“Leave us Lioness, just hide us well and if we die, we die! When the battle is over, come and seek us.” The least wounded croaked.
“”You’re not being left here,” The Lioness assured them. “Even if we are forced to leave you it will be somewhere warm and dry. This is too close to the river and it’s cold and damp.”
Within minutes three crude stretchers were fashioned and everything surplus to the march was hidden deep amongst the trees. The Mermaid was pushed as far up a little muddy creek as possible then covered with branches. Drustina studied their attempts and shook her head sadly.
“It will have to do. I’ll be sad if my beloved companion is found and damaged. She’s served me well.”
The crew watched respectfully as the Lioness knelt by the nondescript pile of branches and offered up a small prayer.
“Goodbye old friend until and if we meet again. Sorry to leave you but I will return if I survive these coming days.”
So saying she turned tearfully away and joined the column as it stepped silently towards the dark sandstone ledge of Frod. The steep bluff that marked the end of the high escarpment offered some hope if they could find a suitably defensive location.
They trudged slowly with all able bodied men and women taking their turns with the wounded until they found themselves at the foot of the rocky buttress. Every time the column rested a lookout would creep ahead and find a viewing point to see if they could determine how their pursuers were faring. Eventually one of them located the Viking column tramping determinedly along the river bank after eventually emerging from the reed marshes. It was clear they had lost much time wading through the marshy reed beds
Having located them, Drustina and several of her older, more experienced companions held a moot.
“They are about three possibly four hours behind us so what do we do?” She put the question to the assembled band.
“There are about two hundred men Lioness,” one of the senior men observed. “We cannot even dream of meeting them.”
“Indeed not and the worst of it is they will be able to spread out once they have some Idea of what we have done. They will almost certainly find our ship as they travel the river bank.”
“Are we to abandon our companions?” Gisela asked.
She was brave to put the question for it was on every man’s mind. It would send a cruel message through the whole group that when push came to shove, it was every man for himself. The three wounded men were the indicator that their band was still a united company of trusted companions.
“No!” Drustina replied emphatically. "We are companions in arms and we shall die together. If any of you are afeard of this then speak now. Yea or nay!”
She felt a hot rush of love for her men as every one of them voted silently to stay together.
“So we must find a defensible position and make it costly for them.”
The band spread out and eventually one of the men called Cedric returned with hope flickering in his eyes.
“I have found a deep cave Lioness. It looks even as if it might have been a mine. The entrance is easily defendable for there is a broad ledge from the entrance to the edge of the cliff. Any attackers will have to cross the open ledge if they want to attack the cave entrance.”
“Show us,” Drustina demanded.
A short steep climb brought them to the cave and everybody agreed it was certainly the best option. The approaches were steep and actually required an awkward climb up some vertical rocks that would expose an aggressor to a fearsome assault while he struggled to keep his hold with both hands before surmounting the ledge.
“This is perfect! Well done Cedric, this will make it costly for them. Let us move some rocks around to make it even more impregnable.”
The experienced band needed little instruction about fortification and preparations went on apace. Furthermore there were spoil heaps just inside the cave where it had been widened by ancient searches for some useful product. They had an endless supply of ammunition until the last of them fell dead.
Having finally done what they could they settled down to await the final curtain. Silently they ate their rations and waited while they watched from their high vantage point. Periodically they saw separate, small search parties emerge from the trees below as the Vikings sought out Drustina’s band.
It was Gisela’s young female ears that first heard the sound of discord in the woods below and she hastily summoned Drustina. Several of the man also joined them as they strained to hear what Gisela had heard.
“It was men cursing and I could have sworn I heard a horse!”
“A horse! Are you sure kid?” Drustina pressed.
There was another feint shout followed by another distinct ‘neighing’ but this time several of the younger men heard it as did the Lioness.
“They didn’t have any horses!” Gisela remarked.
“No, they didn’t,” Drustina concurred and that wasn’t the shout of friendship it was anger. There’s a horseman or horsemen in trouble down there.”
“Look! Look!” Cried Cedric
His cry was superfluous for several of the others had seen a horseman emerge from the thickets and ride furiously around the foot of the Frod ledge. A dozen Vikings were emerging from the thickets like hornets from a hive as they tried to encircle him. Drustina almost let out a shriek of joy as she recognised the horseman’s colours.
“He’s one of Edrinor’s men; he’s wearing Edrinor’s colours!”
“But how to rescue him! And to what end?” One of the senior men asked.
“We need his information!” Drustina explained. “Edrinor must be somewhere around here and he’s got a whole bloody army! If we can rescue that horseman, he can lead us to Edrinor and safety! Follow me! That’s only a Viking search party down there so if we can save the man and his horse, there is hope yet!”
Drustina did not wait for the men to decide, she clambered over the ledge and scrambled frantically down into the woods as her men and Gisela gathered their bows and followed. At the foot of the ledge they could hear the horseman desperately giving his all as the cries of victory rang from the Viking’s throats.
Drustina emerged from a dense thicket to see the horseman giving his all as Vikings closed in on him. She did not shout for her female cry would have distracted the horseman from his desperate task. Instead she silently drew her deadly bow, took careful aim and killed herself a Viking.
At first no Viking noticed that one of their own had fallen but when the second one fell, they certainly did.
They turned to see a woman drawing her bow for the third time and finally one of them recognised her!
“It’s the bloody sorceress! The lioness of Carthage!"
At first sheer disbelief froze them but they quickly recovered and turned to ignore their mounted quarry as the ten remaining Vikings hurtled towards her screaming their rage. She felled one more then retreated to the edge of the thicket where her companions emerged to protect her. Such was their rage and frustration, the Vikings did not stop their charge and they roared defiantly as they eventually clashed with Drustina’s band. At first the Vikings held their own and gave as good as they got but Edrinor’s horseman now realised the newcomers had saved him.
'Whoever they were, they were his allies and deserved his help'.
He urged his horse in a wide arc that took him across the Viking phalanx and in one thunderous charge he smashed through their angled sword-wall. The Norse roaring turned to cries of anger and dismay as they saw their precious prize being torn from their clutches at the very last gasp. The Horseman had already turned to charge again at the Viking backs and their formation broke as the Norsemen scatter desperately into the thickets.
The rider halted his horse then stood staring wide-eyed and panting at his saviours.
“Who are you?” He gasped.
“I am the Lioness of Carthage, I presume by your colours you are one of Edrinor’s knights.”
The man’s jaw dropped and he immediately saluted with his sword. Drustina returned his salute then spoke quickly.
“We have no time to stand here, there are two hundred Norsemen searching these woods. Those escapees will no doubt be returning immediately with their news. Where is Edrinor?”
“He is but five miles away across the River Weaver, his whole army is marching on Chester. I was scouting ahead but finding you shocks me. What news have you?”
Drustina quickly explained the situation and the knight wheeled excitedly on his horse.
“I will report to his majesty immediately and we will send our horsemen ahead to relieve you where will you be hiding?”
Drustina pointed out the rocky bluff and the man nodded.
“I must take the roundabout route back around the southern end of the ridge, if the Norsemen occupy the forest I cannot reach the river at this northern end of the bluff. My message to Edrinor is too vital to risk by confronting them.”
Drustina nodded concurrence.
“Well said horseman. One last thing, if we see you and you cannot find us, we will fire an arrow with green smoke into the sky. The signal will mean we are still alive and hopefully fighting. Now, ride like the wind; we will return to our Hideout.
~oo000oo~
Author's note.
If anybody is getting lost, Google earth will readily show where the River Weaver enters the Mersey and the rocky ridge that stops as a steep bluff at the town of Frodsham. Another nearby town is Runcorn where the Weaver today enters at the Manchester Sho Canal.
The Angry mermaid 123
or,
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 123
The battle at the mine!
Drustina ends up holed up in a mine as she fights to defend her band of survivors.
The Angry Mermaid 123
or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 123.
This the sandstone ridge where she would have made her stand. (The mine is fictional!)
The view from the mine entrance looking towards 'The Mersea.'
Readers are advised to Google Frodsham or Runcorn on Google Earth to see how and where the River Weaver enters the Mersey and how far the Wesver is Navigable inland towards Frod.
The Angry Mermaid 123
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 123
Drustina and her band were now reduced by two more injured companions; she only had ten warriors and herself. When they re-entered the forest they attempted to cover their tracks but it was a futile task, the evidence of their brief skirmish was for all to see in the thicketed clearing. They hid the Viking bodies but the hoof-marks of the knight’s horse were clear for all to see and they didn’t have time to fill in the divots. Instead they hurried back to their cave and waited for events to unfurl.
To their mild surprise darkness fell without an appearance of their Viking hunters and they settled down to a nervous night without any of them sleeping properly. Clouds covered the moon and stars so it was almost impossible to see in the pitch black forest. Fortunately, that darkness also precluded a Viking assault up the rocky cliff.
As dawn started to break the band were whispering amongst themselves.
“D’you think the horseman got back to King Edrinor?” Gisela asked the Lioness.
“If he didn’t, we going to have a pretty rough ride.”
“You mean ...”
“Yes, we’ll die fighting.” Drustina replied bluntly to avoid any more speculation; then she added. “They outnumber us by nearly twenty to one. We’re going to have to marshal our arrows and not waste them. No wild extravagant volleys, every arrow must count.”
“What about our swords?”
“If it comes to swordplay then it means our defences have failed. It means they have penetrated our main defence line that is the killing ground at the top of the ledge. As long as we can hold them off as they try to scramble over the ledge then we have the edge. If they lay claim to that patch in front of the cave it’s still to our advantage because we’ll be firing arrows from the blackness into the light where they’ll be silhouetted. If they manage to enter the cave then it’s hand to hand fighting and that means our defences have effectively failed. At odds of twenty against one they will easily overwhelm us.”
Drustina’s tone made it clear she wanted to talk no more. The sun had risen and the Vikings could be heard moving through the woods at the foot of the ledge.
“Get ready.” Drustina advised un-necessarily for everybody knew the odds.
~o00o~
Drustina’s band had prepared their defence well; when the first face appeared over the edge of the ledge, its owner was despatched quickly by the Lioness herself. Her ploy was that she would pick off the initial attackers because her individual accuracy would give the Vikings a distorted idea of the effectiveness of the Celtic archers. By this arrangement the first five, cautious Vikings were picked off even as their faces appeared. Consequently, there was a brief lull in that initial attack as the Viking’s retired to reconsider their plan.
The lull lasted nearly an hour partly because Drustina had sneaked forward to modify one of the small buttresses they had built while preparing their last stand. A waist high buttress of large stones needed repositioning to force any attackers to expose themselves for a few seconds longer and thus make easier targets. She sneaked across the killing zone to check that there were no Vikings on the high cliff above the cave then she motioned to some of the men to come and help her re-arrange the crudely assembled bastion. When it was rebuilt to her satisfaction she peeped over the ledge and noted that a couple of the attackers had inadvertently exposed themselves.
‘They need a lesson,’ she told herself as she lay behind the reformed bastion.
She motioned to Cedric, her second best marksman, and explained her plan. He nodded fulsomely then they both took careful aim and fired together. Cedric had the satisfaction of seeing his arrow pierce the Viking’s neck but Drustina’s arrow only pierced the other man’s thigh because he chose that moment to move. Nevertheless it was a satisfactory strike for the man would have serious problems climbing the escarpment with his injured leg. The additional advantage was that the thickets shook with disturbance as the attackers took a few steps back to get out of range.
Recovering those yards would cost more Viking lives and more time which gave Drustina’s band hope that Edrinor’s troops would arrive in time. The two marksmen decided to stay out front at the bastions until they were forced to join the others closer to or even inside the mine.
Eventually the Vikings started their second attack so Drustina and Cedric were kept busy for fully thirty minutes before being forced to retreat away from the exposed ledge and back towards the mine. At the last opportunity Drustina and Cedric took a good look towards the east but there was no sign of any Mercian horsemen. As they rejoined their companions at the mine entrance, they had little news but once again, the Vikings had paused to reconsider their attack.
“It looks as though our Mercian horseman might not have made it,” Drustina admitted, “we didn’t see any sign of approaching horsemen and this looks like our last stand.”
A resigned silence settled on the band as they redoubled the efforts to strengthen their defences by reinforcing the obstructive bastions at the mine entrance and adding to their stock of stones from the spoil tips inside the mine. By the time the attacking Vikings arrived at the foot of the escarpment for the third time, the ammunition dump of largish stones was well stocked.
The moment the Vikings started to ascend the steep sandstone ledge, a bombardment of stones started to fall like rain and the extra shields they had brought to form a turtle served them poorly. A forty pound stone dropping fifty feet gathers enough force to break a man’s shield arm as well as the shield he is holding. Another two score of Vikings lay dead or injured at the foot of the cliff and Drustina estimated they had reduced the attackers to possibly one hundred and fifty men. So far only two attackers had made it over the edge of the ledge and they lay wounded from arrow strikes.
“We seem to be holding,” Gisela panted as she hurled another stone blindly over the edge.
“Once they find a way to climb above the entrance and shoot down at the parapet, we’ll be forced to hole up in the mine.”
“Why don’t we put our own men up there?”
“We spread our perimeter too thin and we cannot concentrate our fire power when they’ve managed to get over the ledge and organise a charge. The cave entrance will force them to squeeze into a narrow column and their numbers will not benefit them.”
“So we end up stuck in the bloody mine.” Gisela cursed.
“But still alive,” Edburg the cook finished, “and hopefully, that horseman made it back to Edrinor.”
Gisela pulled a wry smile and fell silent as Drustina warned everybody.
“Sounds as if they are trying their next assault, get ready!”
To a man everybody crept forward with two or more heavy stones and lobbed them just clear of the parapet edge. Several arrows whistled close overhead but nobody was hit. Fortunately the Vikings had few archers for they tended to rely on heavy spears initially then sword fighting at close quarters. The problem was that they were well hidden in the thickets and difficult to spot whilst Drustina’s men had to expose themselves on the edge of the parapet and they were too vulnerable. After the second deluge of rocks, the Celts formed a chain-gang while two men held up shields to protect the stone throwers. The system only worked partially because there were far more men climbing than stones dropping and the Vikings were making progress. Drustina and Cedric secreted themselves behind the artificial bastions while the others retreated to the mine entrance ready to give the pair covering fire when they were forced to retreat into the mine.
As the Vikings finally appeared above the parapet, Drustina and Cedric each took aim and released a score of deadly arrows that accounted for another fifteen or so as they reared backwards with arrows sticking out of their faces. When they looked like being overwhelmed they signalled to the others in the mine mouth to offer covering fire then they plunged into the gloomy shadow of the mine entrance.
A few yards inside the mine both Cedric and Drustina stumbled over a tripwire and recovered only to hear Gisela telling Edgar.
“There, I told you it would work, all we’d have to do now if they were Vikings is kill them,”
Cedric cursed them for he had hurt his arm as he fell and Drustina had fared little better.
“You stupid buggers! It didn’t need a demonstration!”
The pair scrambled to their feet each nursing their bruises.
“I nearly broke my bow!” Drustina added angrily. “Think before you do something like that. Neither of us were accustomed to the gloom.”
“Shit! Sorry.” Gisela apologised as Edgar reached out to guide them to safety.
Cedric sat rubbing his arm while Drustina tested her injured wrist. She cursed but the wrist was not broken, fortunately it was her less favoured hand so she still had sword fighting abilities. Firing a bow however, would be difficult for the rest of the day.
As they sat nursing their hurts the Vikings had finally captured the parapet and they were clamouring to enter the mine.
Drustina’s reasoning had been right about the narrow space. The Celtic archers had secreted themselves in every possible cranny and it was impossible for more than three Vikings to enter at once. It soon became apparent that even with their shields they were too vulnerable to conquer the tiny band. The Vikings simply could not surmount the deadly subterranean ambush.
Only two of their strongest warriors managed to get more than thirty feet into the cave and they eventually succumbed to a combination of arrows and sword strikes for their eyes had not yet accustomed to the dark. After a dozen attempts, the Vikings gave up, it was impossible to winkle the Celtic limpet out of its shell.
In the late afternoon Drustina’s band were getting hungry. The mine had water trickling from a spring deeper in the mountain so thirst was no problem but their stomachs were beginning to rumble. Drustina did not suggest eating the dead Vikings for their hunger pangs were not yet grievous. Nor did she mention the time when she had resorted to cannibalism in Iberia when still a young boy. Eventually darkness came.
Drustina’s band had not known what to expect from the Vikings during the night for it all depended upon the weather. Fortunately the broken rushing clouds caused the moon to come and go too rapidly for the Vikings to approach the mine entrance with certainty. The Viking’s first attempt coincided with the sudden appearance of the moon from behind a cloud and two of the attackers were cruelly silhouetted as arrows immediately erupted from the stygian depths of the mine. Their dying curses were cause for pause by the remaining Vikings who moved out of the firing line.
There were to be no more attacks but the Celts were not to know this and they spent a tiring night as some tried to catch a few moments of sleep between false alarms.
~o00o~
As dawn approached Drustina decided to risk a signal arrow in case Edrinor’s horsemen were about. But to fire it high she was forced to creep closer to the mine entrance to elevate her bow. She knew the risks for when she lit the green flame she was certain to make a target for the Viking archers. Cedric and another Celt covered themselves in mud and crept towards the entrance to spy out the terrace. It seemed the Archers were not immediately covering the entrance and Drustina gambled that she could get away with her audacious plan. She crept behind one of the buttresses at the mine entrance and prepared to fire a single arrow, an illuminated arrow that would reveal her location to the Vikings. The need to contact Edrinor’s horsemen outweighed any risk to the Lioness.
Drustina knew the risks better than anybody; her action would invite a score of Viking arrows if she was not quick to ignite, draw and release her vital signal in a couple of seconds.
“Wish me luck,” she whispered to Cedric who had ignited a small candle ready to throw the ignited arrow across the mine entrance for Drustina to hopefully catch, nock and fire in one smooth action.
She watched from her hidden corner as Cedric bent behind the opposite buttress and cautiously prepared the arrow, He turned and whispered “are you ready?”
“Yes.”
The arrow ignited in his hand and he carefully held it by both ends as he tossed it across. His aim was true and Drustina managed to catch it by the back of the shaft then quickly nock it into her bow whilst she was still crouched behind the buttress. The next part was the dangerous bit. She drew her bow quickly and rolled onto her back to lie flat on the floor to discharge the flaming arrow as close to the lintel beam of the mine entrance as possible. Thus she could to gain as steep an angle as was possible. She did not even have time to watch its flight for she had to recover her hidden position immediately.
She cursed as an arrow whistled past her face and breasts as she tried to squirm on her back but the ground proved too muddy and her ankles were skidding as she tried to propel herself. Her curse warned the others that she was having difficulty and suddenly there was a clank as a bronze shield landed beside her and caught her on the shoulder as it rolled.
“Ouch! Dammit! That hurt.”
“Shut up and use it!” Came the reply from the shadows.”
Drustina recognised Gisela’s voice and immediately grasped the idea, namely to hold the shield upright to protect her prostrate body as she rolled back behind the buttress. She positioned the shield then to her surprise she felt a noose land lazily on her feet.
“What the f—k are you doing you silly bitch!?” She cursed as the arrows started to clang and rattle against the shield.
“Stay rigid, we’ll drag you back into the mine!” Gisela replied. “Try and get the noose around your feet!”
Drustina wiggled her feet until she had both feet in the noose then she whispered urgently.
“Pull me now!”
The noose tightened around her feet and Drustina suddenly felt herself being dragged along the muddy floor of the entrance as she struggled to keep hold of her bow and hold the shield upright. The arrows continued to whizz past her or clatter against the shield but, to her amazement, the move worked and within seconds she was dragged on her back, muddy and bruised to safety. Once she was safe and out of sight of the Vikings she sat up and rubbed her arse.
“That hurt!”
“Less pain than an arrow wound though!” Gisela giggled.
“Bitch!” Drustina snorted. “Thanks though; now what about Cedric, he’s still stuck out there.
“He’ll be easier, he’s behind the buttress and he can make a proper job of sliding on a long shield like a sledge.”
Without waiting for any objection, Gisela flung the rope to Cedric but it fell short. Her second effort succeeded and Drustina watched fascinated as Gisela tied a pair of shields to the rope before explaining to Drustina.
“He can use the long shield as a sledge and the round shield to protect himself. The mud makes it nice and slippery.”
Drustina nodded with approval.
“Go on, I’m impressed!”
They watched as Cedric attached one foot to the rope then looped the rope through the long shield handle to secure the ‘sledge’ for towing as he lay on his back and placed the round shield over his head. He signalled to be towed and crouched into a tiny ball as more arrows started to pepper the shield. The plan worked even better and Cedric returned to their ranks none the worse for his bumpy ride.
He grinned at Drustina as he wrapped his arm around Gisela.
“Clever princess isn’t she.”
“Yes. Very!” Drustina concurred.
Then to their relief they heard a signal horn blowing faintly from beyond the cliff. Drustina turned to Gisela and confirmed her own thoughts.
“That didn’t sound like a Norse horn.”
“No, Viking horns are deeper. That sounded like a brass horn. Besides, I haven’t heard a Viking horn throughout this fight. I don’t think they’ve got a horn. And surely it’s no coincidence that the horn sounded immediately after your signal arrow.”
Drustina nodded and added.
“Well something is certainly happening beyond the parapet. That horn is quite far away.”
They listened in silence as everybody strained their ears and sighs of relief whispered around the group as the faint sound was heard again.
Their suspicions were soon reinforced when Edgar peeped around his niche and observed.
“The Vikings seem to be leaving.”
Drustina joined him and nodded.
“We’ll wait a bit; it may be a trap to lure us out. That said; do I have any volunteers to go back behind our buttresses and keep a better lookout.”
The words had hardly left her lips when two of her warriors sprinted wildly from their safe location and flung themselves behind the cover of the two stone pillars. Drustina smiled as they called for shields and got them. She called to them.
“Try and see what you can but don’t be careless!”
~o00o~
As the two volunteers took occasional risks to stick their heads beyond the buttresses, the rest of Drustina’s band took an opportunity to relax. Eventually one of the volunteers got impatient and took the bull by the horns. He checked to make sure Drustina was not watching then he ventured cautiously into full view whilst crouching behind a long shield.
“No arrows came and he became a little bolder until he had actually ventured right up to the mine entrance. Still no arrows came so he stepped sideways into a narrow fissure in the rock and took stock. He called back inside the cave and alerted the rest. Drustina was woken and came to assess the situation. She crept up to the buttress and spoke to the volunteer.
“Well done lad, what can you see?”
“I don’t see anybody guarding the parapet but I can’t see up on the cliff overlooking it. If I step outside they might be behind me overlooking the parapet. “
“I’m going to ask you to fire another signal arrow ... green smoke okay?”
The volunteer nodded and Drustina tossed the unlit arrow to him. Then she pushed a small candle pot across the ground to provide him with fire. She watched with satisfaction as he took aim and fired the arrow high into the air. The thick arc of emerald green smoke was clear for all to see. If Edrinor’s horsemen were nearby they could not fail to spot it. A wave of relieved satisfaction rippled through the band as two rapid horn blasts sounded clearly to announce the horsemen’s arrival. The lookout turned to the Lioness.
“D’you want me to have a look?”
“Not alone lad, you’ve proven your worth. We’ll form a turtle and make a dash for the redoubts we built on the edge of the cliff. I don’t see any Vikings in them.”
A turtle was quickly formed and several men surrounded Drustina as she walked backwards out of the mine with her bow ready to fire back at any Vikings overlooking the turtle from the cliff above. To her silent relief she saw nobody and no arrows were fired.
They arrived at the vacated redoubts and concluded that the Vikings had truly abandoned the site. A glance over the parapet edge eventually told them why. Not only where Edrinor’s horseman down below but also a substantial section of his foot soldiers. It was no wonder the Vikings had run.
As she searched the thickets for signs of any Vikings she finally saw a few scattered groups desperately making for the river and their ships. For the Vikings it was a rout because they were outnumbered by many, Mercian troops. Drustina actually began to feel sorry for the fleeing men as they were spotted and run down by the horsemen. By now her warriors had disbanded their turtle and they were searching the overlooking cliff for any combatants. None were found and the Celts finally determined that they were safe. They fired a pair of green smoke signal arrows and Drustina stood in clear view waving to the Mercian commander. He waved back and Drustina slumped with relief. The skirmish was over.
When they finally met at the foot of the escarpment, Drustina grinned with relief.
“What kept you?”
The commander grinned back.
“The foot soldiers ma-am. Unfortunately they cannot travel as fast as us but we could not risk entering these thickets and that forest without infantry escort.”
“Well you’re a welcome sight commander so what of King Edrinor?”
“He marches to the south of the escarpment and hopes to make Chester by nightfall or tomorrow morning.”
“Thank the gods for that. Can you take me to him? I’ll need a horse.”
“There are several going spare ma-am. Those Vikings gave a good account of themselves. I have lost a dozen riders.”
Drustina nodded significantly as she concurred.
“Indeed they did commander. Defeating Harald Cold-blood will not be easy.”
Having cleared the area of the enemy the mounted commander divided his horsemen between an escort to accompany the Celts to Chester
while he remained with the bulk of his riders and his foot-soldiers to follow on behind.
~oo000oo~
Preparations for battle continue as Drustina re-connects with her own forces on the River Mersea. The first strike against the Viking main force proves successful and enables Drustina to relinquish command of the northern salient at the Wallasey while she rejoins the main combined force of Saxons and Mercians and is forced to assume command to curtail the bikering between Kings Ethelred and Edrinor.
The Angry Mermaid 124
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 124.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wirral_Peninsula
Drustina’s weary Celtic band was glad to be on horseback and they made good progress as they rounded the escarpment to eventually meet with Edrinor’s main force. The Mercian King’s welcome was effusive.
“Lioness! So my scout was right. It is you!”
“Why? Did you doubt him?”
“We thought it might have been a Viking trick, they might have found your doppelganger and staged some sort of duplicitous cameo.”
“A Viking warrior queen who kills her own men? Seems a bit extreme d’you not think?” Drustina queried Edrinor’s remark as she recalled the Vikings whom she and her men had killed to rescue the horseman.
“Yes maybe!” Edrinor emphasised. “But the Vikings are desperate to kill you! Of this we are certain for we have learned it from the captives we have taken, including a high ranking jarl. Your reputation precedes you and Harald has put a huge purse on your head.”
“I’m flattered, but I would have thought it to be a given anyway.” Drustina grinned but Edrinor continued to look serious.
“Please do not jest Lioness. Everybody is on edge concerning your welfare, why only yesterday I received a missive from Ethelred asking of my progress and had I any news of you. There is panic and alarm in Chester and why do you think those six longships pursued you all the way up the River Weaver with such determination?”
Drustina shrugged. She had lived with such threats for several years now but one new concern now worried her. The previous threats had been mostly on the battlefield now it seemed there might be more sinister and internal threats. She wondered briefly if this had been one of Bishop Celyn’s little schemes. Speculation however was futile so she changed the subject.
“Well you for one know that I am the Lioness and I have the scars to prove it. I must say, I was never gladder that your scout got the message to you telling of our problems. We wouldn’t be here now but for him.”
“Well I am equally thankful to you for saving him. He is one of my younger sons.”
“Oh!” Drustina remarked with some surprise. “He never mentioned that. Well all I can say is he was giving a good account of himself when we met with him. If your other sons fight as well as he did then Ethelred has a good ally in the Mercians. We had best make haste towards Chester. How far is it.?”
“My guides say about a dozen miles.”
“Then let’s begin, the Vikings will be on your right flank or shoulder for they are coming from the Mersea. If you’re happy, I’ll push on to Chester; if we encounter Vikings we will immediately inform you. Three arrows with red smoke will mean we have encountered them. Are your scouts well positioned?”
“Yes, they try to stay out on a two mile perimeter and have instructions to report back anything suspicious immediately.”
“Good. I’ll try and get my message to them as we pass out through their perimeter; don’t forget three red smoke arrows means I have found Vikings.”
With no more ado, Drustina and her men trotted forth towards Chester and a dozen of Edrinor’s own riders accompanied her. The Mercian King was desperate that the Lioness would not come to harm on his patch. The going was good for the land after the ridge at Frod was flat and when one of the younger warriors climbed a tall tree, he could see the massive Roman walls of the city.
“No more than three miles Lioness.”
“Any sign of battle?”
“None that I could see.”
Somewhat unnecessarily, Drustina cautioned everybody to be on the lookout for there were bound to be Viking scouts doing exactly the same as she and Edrinor, namely checking ahead.
Leaving the woods, they came to the banks of the River Dee (Dyfrdwy in Welsh) and debated whether to cross it or travel along the north and east bank. They decided to cross it on the basis that if they encountered any Vikings coming from the north they didn’t want to be caught having to cross the river while Vikings could attack them from the bank. The river was deep and meandering and they would have to wade at least chest deep if not swim.
Once across the river and safe on the South bank, Chester’s city walls beckoned them and they eventually arrived at the Southgate more usually known as the Bridgegate because of the Roman Bridge over the Dyfrdwy that still stood after hundreds of years and carried all roads from the South into the fortress.
To her surprise, it seemed that Ethelred’s army had not yet arrived and she was in a quandary, for it seemed that events were moving very slowly. After entering the city she met again with the garrison commander to get news and he told her Ethelred’s army was camped three miles south on a small hill where the ground was dry and well drained.
“So what of your garrison? Have you enough men?” Drustina wondered.
“We think so. Ethelred wants to keep his army free to move quickly and at liberty to go in any direction.”
‘Yes including south again if he gets cold feet!’ Drustina mused silently.
She decided to gallop south to Ethelred’s camp and find out what was making him waver. She arrived with her entourage hot and sweaty from the ride and thundered into camp to pull up sharp at Ethelred’s tent.
“Why are you not defending the city?” She demanded.
“I have no news of Edrinor. It would be folly to attack the Vikings with insufficient numbers.”
Drustina was shocked by his reply for it reflected disorganisation and lack of communication. The first thing she did was put him right on Edrinor’s location.
“Dammit Ethelred! You can see I have a score of Edrinor’s riders accompanying me. The most important objective is to stop Chester from falling into Cold-blood’s hands. If he gets his hands on the granaries he can withstand a siege into the summer of next year!! I beseech you to get your army moving now! Edrinor is but half a dozen miles to the east of Chester and he’ll be here by mid afternoon or early evening. It is imperative that you have the city secure as soon as possible!”
“But we don’t know where the Vikings are.”
Drustina cursed with exasperation as she reflected that Ethelred’s most able officer Althred was busy with Carl harassing the Viking supply train in the Mersea; though she had no idea how they were faring. For all she knew, Carl, Udris, Heliox and Althred could all be dead. However expressing such fears to Ethelred would hardly induce him to move. Once again, for the sake of diplomacy and military advantage, she lied. This time it was in front of her own band of Celts and the Mercian horsemen and she noticed them exchange significant glances. Fortunately they had the wit to recognise the problem and they kept silent while Drustina continued explaining.
“Cold-blood is landing his troops on the Mersea shore at a deep creek that Edrinor’s guide called Brunbah. If we march immediately we could catch him not yet fully prepared and without a proper bridgehead.”
This was not wholly true for Drustina and her Celts knew full well that Cold-blood had landed a substantial portion of his army and Drustina’s arrival in the Mersea had merely upset the supply train as it was crossing the estuary. Drustina had one certainty. If Ethelred allowed Cold-blood to establish a beach head then their task of dislodging him would be made more difficult with every hour. Drustina’s fleet harassing the Viking fleet could only achieve so much, for Harald Cold-blood had a substantial advantage in ships. She pleaded with Ethelred.
“Look Eth’ If you enter Chester now and take up with Edrinor’s army as it approaches from the East, I will take a substantial mounted force and go west then north in a wide circle to approach the Mersea shore near the river entrance below Harald’s beach head. Once there, if my fleet is still intact we can either continue on the water or our men can land ashore and harry Harald from the Wallasey. There’s an inlet there where we can land easily if Harald has not already captured it.”
With the certain news that Edrinor’s army was now only hours away, Ethelred became more amenable to positive action. He was reluctant at first to release his horsemen but eventually relented.
“You ask for a substantial force of mounted men; how many?”
“I should think at least four hundreds.” Drustina replied then added. “That will leave you with two hundred and the whole of Edrinor’s horse; that numbers about five hundred. All told you will have a cavalry wing of seven hundred. Bearing in mind you are essentially an infantry army then the battle will be nothing more than a slogging match. Blow for blow and all that.”
“That’s not like you Lioness; usually you have some clever plan.”
“I can’t plan anything without decent intelligence. It is knowledge and intelligence that helps me fight my battles. Now, until I know how Carl and Althred fared with the ships I am blind and ignorant. For all my skill and knowledge of water battles this is the crunch battle and it will be won or lost on the land between Chester and the Mersea. He who arrives first and wisest can pick the battle site. The sooner we move the better.”
Finally she persuaded Ethelred to enter Chester and make use of the facilities that the Romans had left so many centuries earlier; defendable walls, paved streets, even some sort of residual drainage system that partially dealt with the filth a large army tended to generate. Next she advised him after entering Chester, to go east from Chester and meet with Edrinor thence to go north towards Brunbah.
“And what will your plan be?” Ethelred pressed the Lioness.
Drustina could sense that Ethelred lacked confidence to confront the Vikings on his own. It was as though he wanted the Lioness by his side to guide him and advise him; ‘almost wet-nurse him’ she reflected silently. She wondered if the Saxon king was up to the job and she knew from long experience that allies who were unreliable could be worse than an enemy who outnumbered you. Reluctantly she took her mounted men and set out up the spine of the Wirral peninsular always alert for Viking patrols. Finally she arrived at the Bidston Hill and found herself gazing down upon the Wallasey creek and the wider waters of the Mersea estuary.
She was surprised that the Vikings had not taken the hill and secured it as a lookout point for it gave her an excellent panorama of the whole of the Mersea estuary, the North Wirral and all the way across the Dyfrdwy to the Cambrian hills beyond.
‘Perhaps they have not the men to spare.’ She mused before reminding herself not to make flawed assumptions about the enemy.
As her riders gathered around her she sighed with relief as she sighted her fleet still strung out across the Mersea and still effectively limiting Cold-blood’s delivery of his supplies and baggage train to his army now landed at Brunbah. Drustina now knew that her fleet was intact and she could make effective plans. Firstly she had to contact Carl and Althred who were still patrolling the Mersea and harrying Cold-blood’s larger fleet.
She led her squadron of horsemen down to the shores of the Mersea then trotted south along the shore until they located the northern flank of Cold-blood’s bridgehead. Having found the enemy, Drustina pulled back to a safe position and from there she fired signal arrows skywards. After a brief wait she nodded with satisfaction as a mermaid class vessel emerged out of the patrol line and made for the shore. She knew it would be Carl, Udris or Althred, any one of her three most able commanders.
As the craft approached she recognised her Saxon’s long hair and her heart beat with emotion. Desperate for news, she tied a long tether to her horse and she urged the animal into the turbulent tidal stream where she could get alongside Carl’s ship and join her beloved mate.
After she had boarded his ship her companion Gisela hauled the horse back ashore with the long tether and then she fell into Carl’s arms partly with relief and partly with love. After long seconds in his embrace they swapped information.
“Thank the gods you’re alive Lioness. After you disappeared upstream we lost all news of you. We had to despatch a ship to Chester with news of your disappearance and to ask them to try and find news of you.”
“That’s probably what caused the panic in Chester they seemed to think I was dead or captured. Anyway, enough of speculation; we have secured Chester and the Mercians and Saxons have combined at long last. I have just come from Chester along the spine of the Wirral. Now what of Cold-blood’s army?”
“As you know, his army was well established on the Wirral shore when we arrived but much of his baggage train and supplies lies at the bottom of the river. He is receiving some supplies because we have not sufficient ships to meet with his sallies when he pushes a few supply ships across with a massive escort force. But we are managing to obstruct the two channels namely the Brunbah channel on the south side of the Mersey and Gar channel on the north and this forces him to fight his way across with every convoy. It means we have control of the centre of the estuary and he cannot muster his longships in sufficient strength to break through our blockade line. Also our mermaids are free to range across the middle bank where his ships are too deep to go. We have him bottled up on the Brunbah side and he can only reinforce his numbers from the north shore with recourse to heavily protected convoys.”
Drustina nodded with satisfaction then asked.
“Can you release the Mermaids and their crews?”
“Only at low water when the middle bank dries out. Nobody can cross it then.”
“Good. And how many men have we got waiting in our own supply ships.”
“About a thousand possibly twelve hundreds, mostly Hibernians; have you a task for them?”
“Possibly but I need them ashore.”
Carl grinned widely.
“They’ll be happy to get ashore. They’ve been cooped up like chickens waiting for some action. What’s your plan?”
“Firstly we’ll need the mermaids to ferry the men as far up river as we can to where we meet with Harald’s northern perimeter. We’ll land them safely where they’ll not be opposed then they can bottle up his northern flank while I get word to Edrinor and Ethelred. I’ll need you to take command of this force so can you relinquish command of our ships to Althred?”
“Consider it done; oh! By the way, I have some good news for you.”
Drustina smiled partly with relief and partly with anticipation.
“Well go on! Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“A supply ship arrived this morning; she’s sailed all the way from Sotona.”
“Go on, what’s the good news?”
“There are two old friends aboard.”
“Who!?”
“Our horses, Seripatese and Jupus!”
Drustina’s shoulders sagged. It was certainly good news but she had been thinking of human friends. Nevertheless it was always good to have a trusted and proven friend under your saddle, especially when in the middle of a battle.
“Get them ashore as soon as you can.” She ordered whilst trying to hide her excitement.
Carl called another Mermaid craft alongside and explained the plans to be delivered to all their ships. Then they set off to call the newly arrived supply ship into the Wallasey creek. Both horses seemed beside themselves with excitement at meeting their companions and Drustina could not resist going for a short ride with her beloved mare.
By the evening things were beginning to get properly established at the new bridgehead on the Wallasey. Most of the Hibernian foot-soldiers were ashore and Drustina was astride her beloved faithful friend. More importantly, a small, portable trebuchet was landed ashore and quickly prepared.
Having secured the Wallasey creek they now had a useable supply route and depot from which to prepare a feasible plan. Gisela was despatched with a pair of scouts to try and establish the strength of Harald’s northern perimeter.
Dorvan Dalgliesh had joined them from the ships to give the Hibernians a rallying point and Drustina’s own ships had released another five hundred precious crewmen from all over her fleet. As they planned for battle Drustina had four hundred and fifty
horsemen and nearly two thousand foot soldiers at her disposal, plus the valuable trebuchet.
As darkness fell Gisela returned from her spying mission.
“There are about a thousand men posted over a perimeter of about two miles. They are clustered about twenty at a time around campfires. At night we could infiltrate if we’re silent and overcome several outposts. I managed to get close enough to hear some of them talking. They’re miserable and hungry because enough food is not getting through.”
Drustina smiled with satisfaction. That was exactly the outcome she had been seeking. She immediately ordered cooking fires to be lit and food prepared at several locations along their own lines and close to the Viking perimeter.
“Why not in one place Lioness?” Gisela asked.
Carl explained for Drustina thus reinforcing Gisela’s comfort. His answer demonstrated to Gisela that the two lovers were both very capable and experienced leaders.
“We want the Vikings to smell the food princess. Nothing disturbs a hungry soldier more than the smell of inaccessible food.”
Gisela grinned as Drustina nodded affirmation.
“You two are evil.” She cackled.
“Evil is as Evil does.” Drustina replied. “Needs must when the Devil cracks the whip. I suggest you get yourself some blankets from the supply ship, you’ll be glad of them before morning it looks like a cold night. By the time you get back from the ship with your blankets the food’ll be ready.”
The Viking princess returned and realised the Lioness was right, the smell of stewing mutton, ham, parsnips and turnips even caused her own stomach to rumble so she knew it would be playing havoc with the Viking stomachs. After filling her tummy she found a dry spot and turned in. At three she was woken silently and told to prepare to fight. She found Drustina already girded for battle as men throughout their lines prepared to sneak as far though the undermanned Viking perimeter as they could before starting the action. Drustina whispered the plan to Gisela.
“Our men creep forward now because the third hour is the time when lookouts are at their sleepiest. If anybody is discovered we immediately commence fighting. If we sneak through their lines undetected, we attack from within their ranks at first light. Light armour only, we don’t want anybody clanking around waking up their watchmen.”
Drustina’s plan nearly worked, they were almost at their objectives when a watchman taking a pee spotted one of the men sneaking through the bushes. His shout raised the alarm but of course, Drustina’s men were already amongst the sleepy Vikings. Armed and alert they gained the early advantage and the northern Viking perimeter was breached. Drustina’s force had claimed the first small but useful victory after capturing the defensible line along a small ridge and a stream the Vikings had chosen.
Once they had a usable position, Drustina wasted no time in re-contacting the main Saxon and Mercian force. Gisela was sent with a small escort to explain the position and learn of the main battle dispositions. By mid afternoon, Gisela returned with news and information. From the contents of the report Drustina was mildly surprised to deduce that Edrinor seemed to have taken command and Ethelred was content to play second fiddle. She showed the report to Carl who growled his dissatisfaction.
“I think it would be better if you joined them Dru while I stay here and manage our affairs. We’ve made good contact with our ships and I’m thinking to extend our probe southwards along the shore line. The closer we can bring the trebuchet to the main Viking body, the more effective we’ll be. We’ll also be able to bombard their ships in the south channel.”
“You mean create a salient with the river forming one side.” Drustina deduced.
“Exactly, our ships can add their fire-power and the trebuchet will be almost in amongst the main Viking body if we bring it to the tip of the salient. Our ships can add to its protection by firing arrows over it into any attacking Vikings.”
“Seems like a plan but make sure the salient is as broad as possible. A long thin flank on the inshore side would be difficult to defend. The trebuchet will be damned useful but don’t let it fall into Viking hands.”
“D’you think they would know how to operate it?” Carl wondered.
Drustina shrugged.
”It’s not magic. Somebody amongst their ranks will have the wit to work it out.”
“Well they’ve got to capture it first. How many men d’you think he can spare to make a separate counter-attack against us.
“Can’t say, we don’t know how many men Harald’s got so I don’t know if he can counterattack our stronghold. The only thing we do know is that he has to consider our presence every time he plans any tactic and the trebuchet will be a real thorn in his side. Are you happy to hold here?”
Carl nodded slowly then grinned reassuringly.
“Of course I can hold on here. You go and join those two nincompoops and take command of their bloody armies. I’ll manage here. Take the girl with you.”
Drustina grinned but it hid her fears for her beloved Saxon as she turned to leave.
Drustina wasted no time in taking Gisela and a couple of hundred horsemen south to Chester and the main body of the Saxo-Mercian army. Carl would need the remaining Cavalry to respond quickly to any Viking counter-attack.
It was almost dark when Drustina’s squadron arrived unexpectedly amidst the combined camp. She found the two kings at some disagreement about the way forward. As she trotted through the lines towards the headquarters she could sense the nervousness turning to murmurings of relief and satisfaction as the common troops recognised her golden hair. The sense of discord palpably changed to one of unity like a wave of satisfaction as the whispers followed her squadron.
‘It’s the Lioness; it’s the warrior queen; now we’ll see some sense.’ These and other similar calls followed her as she approached the royal tents.
She turned and smiled toward Gisela and Cedric as they dismounted.
“Let’s hope these two kings see sense.” She whispered softly to avoid offending anybody.”
The Viking princess smiled and nodded silently as Cedric took the reins and handed them to a guard.
Inside the tent they found a stalemate. The kings could not agree on a battle plan because each had come to the battlefield from different directions and with different objectives. Fortunately the dispute was calm and deliberate as each king argued logically.
‘At least they’re not at daggers drawn!’ She reflected as she accepted their greetings.
Both kings turned to meet her and the same sense of relief that had followed her approach through the ranks, now pervaded the command tent. Ethelred rose to greet her.
“Ah Lioness, what news have you?”
Drustina described what she knew then added.
“My small force cannot hold the salient they have won for very long. Every hour you delay here gives Harald more time to re-supply and reinforce his bridgehead.”
“I thought you had stopped his re-supply?” Ethelred complained.
“No, we can only hinder it; we have not enough ships to block it completely. He is able to send a heavily armed convoy about twice a day, one per high tide when there is water enough for him to concentrate his warships. We have reduced his supply train to about a quarter of what it would be if he was un-opposed. Nevertheless, he is slowly gathering enough men to meet you on equal terms. You must move quickly.”
“How?” Asked Edrinor.
“A fast-moving, heavily armed, concentrated column where the Brunbah creek penetrates deepest into the Wirral shore. If we can break his line there and he is forced to retreat, he will quickly find his back to the headwaters of the creek. If we reach those headwaters, we divide his force. His beachhead is only one or possibly two miles deep at that point.”
“And when do we attack?”
“Tomorrow morning before first light, get your men moving so Viking scouts cannot accurately determine what we are about. They will have to march between ten and twelve miles depending where Cold-blood has set his perimeter.”
“You mean we march twelve miles in total darkness! We could get lost without recognisable features to follow.”
“Yes twelve miles. Give me your best scouts now and we will mark the way.”
The two kings nodded slowly and that single gesture of unity told Drustina she had virtual command of the whole allied army. The kings had not verbally conceded command but the consent was clearly implied. Within the hour, in total darkness, Drustina and the best scouts combined with the local guides to ensure a clear, dry route to attack the Viking front line. By the middle hour a route stretching to some ten miles north of Chester had been marked out and guarded with reliable local guides secreted at each important location to meet and direct the advancing Saxo-Mercian column.
Drustina had the troops on route by the first hour while the cavalry guarded the flanks of the column. A final affirmative count confirmed that she had about eight thousand men and about eight or nine hundred cavalry. She had little idea of Cold-blood’s numbers but the dye was cast and there was no turning back. Gisela rode beside her with a quiver full of signal arrows while the Mercian cavalry rode further out in the van arranged in a large protective arc that would immediately retire to each flank if and when they encountered the main body of Harald’s army.
At every way-marker she and the two allied kings met with the posted guides who cleared the password which only Drustina knew. She had arranged a different password privately with each pair of guides at each station. Any further intelligence was also passed from the guides if they had any. It seemed the Vikings were fairly inactive and none of the guides had much to report.
In the darkness before the dawn, the allied column came to a halt where two of the mounted scouts had encountered the main Viking line. The battle formations were arranged and as the first shaft of dawn sunlight split the eastern sky, Drustina prepared to fight.
Every warrior knew this was to be the decider, the final battle and a reflective silence settled momentarily on the massed ranks.
‘This is it!’ Drustina told herself as she fired a signal arrow high into the air.
~oo000oo~
At Last Drustina meets with her foe. The two armies meet on the South banks of the River Mersea where the Brunbah Creek enters the Mersea Estuary.
No need for maps, this is just a straightforward, 'stand up - knock down' fight.
The Angry Mermaid 125.
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 125
As the arrow streaked skywards and curved at its zenith Drustina followed its descent somewhere just behind the Viking shield wall. Then for several moments there was silence before a roar erupted from both ranks as they advanced behind their shield walls. After the many and varied battles she had fought, she still found it hard to countenance the ritualised violence and posturing that both Saxons and Vikings seemed to favour. Both ranks advanced with swords drawn and shields forming a solid wall.
Sat astride her beloved mare Seripatese, Drustina had a perfect view as the two shield-walls advanced but she was also dangerously exposed. So far no missiles had erupted from the Viking ranks but she held a large heavy horse shield to her shoulder and Seripatese had on her unique horse armour that had served her since the wars in Byzantium.
Ordinarily, in a battle where arrows would have served as the initial artillery barrage, Drustina’s feminine cuirass and decorative helmet would have readily served to protect the lioness but she was more fearful of the Viking spears. They were much heavier than arrows and a direct strike could quite possibly pierce her or Seripatese’ armour and puncture the lionesses' or the mare’s hide; especially when hurled by a powerful Norse giant. To avoid unnecessary exposure, Drustina constantly trotted back and forth behind the shield-wall thus providing a moving, and therefore more difficult target. Her activity also served to give her a good view of the Viking shield wall and to make out any choice targets that were within range of her deadly bow.
Only the Viking’s heavy wood and leather long-shields were impervious to her arrows. There were still weak spots in the Viking’s protective clothing and she twice demonstrated the lethality of her long bow to Viking and Saxons alike.
Before the shield-walls had even met, she had twice stopped behind her men and told them to watch out for such and such an individual that her mounted position had enabled her to spot. Her ensuing arrow had then struck with unbelievable accuracy and some giant Viking or well armoured Jarl had fallen from the Viking wall with an arrow in his face. On both occasions the Saxons immediately opposite the fallen Viking had invariably swallowed with genuine relief as Drustina’s lethal bow had eased their fears.
Gasps of thanks were offered up from the men as they saw that their leader was already making the Vikings pay before a sword-blow had been struck.
Her next move was to call up her mounted archers and have them fire a withering hail of arrows before the shield-walls came within spear range. After having demonstrated the effectiveness of her mounted archers to her foot-men, the Saxons began to take heart and Drustina could sense the ripple of conviction hardening through her lines.
She looked back to see Ethelred and Edrinor watching from the small hill, safe from spear or sword. It galled her that they chose not to engage in the very first fighting.
Her looking back towards the allied kings almost cost her, her life for she did not see the first avalanche of spears erupt from the Viking ranks. A spear slammed into her shield that had been slung across her shoulders and the impact knocked her forwards over her mare’s head. It was Gisela’s scream that told the Saxon’s that their talisman queen had been struck and low moan of despair rumbled through their ranks. Fortunately the Saxon line did not break but it wavered as distracted foot soldiers watched several archers dismount and rush to the Lioness’s inert form. For long perilous seconds it looked as though Drustina was dead but eventually Gisela’s feminine squeal of delight told all close by that the Lioness lived.
Information quickly spread through the ranks as Gisela determined that the Lioness was only winded and bruised. The spear had partially pierced her shield and only dented the back of her maidenly cuirass. Finally the Lioness was recovered, albeit bruised and winded but little the worse for wear. Within two minutes she emerged from the protective turtle that had been thrown over her body, to finally remount her mare. The broken spear-shaft was still protruding from her shield as mute irrefutable evidence to the Saxons and Mercians that their beloved Warrior queen was truly sharing their dangers and their hopes.
Once she was mounted she leant down and forward to praise her beloved pony just as another cast of spears rained down. One spear whistled past her back and glanced off her shield again before lodging in the shield of one of her companions. Again Gisela shrieked, more with surprise than fear.
“Dammit Lioness! You’re one lucky bitch! Take care!!!”
Then Cedric appeared and advised Drustina.
“You’d better start moving around again lioness; you’re attracting too much attention. Look out! Here comes another lot!”
Now alerted to the dangers, her mounted archers spurred their horses together to form a better turtle over the Lioness with their collective shields.
The third flight of spears again whistled out of the sky and thudded deep into the earth around the Lioness. Fortunately none struck her or Gisela but it was obvious that the Vikings had identified her and were making every effort to nail ‘the sorceress’.
Drustina nodded towards Cedric.
“You’re right Saxon, we’d better keep moving.”
The Lioness swung low behind her pony’s back ‘Cossack Style’ as she had seen the Bulgars do in the Byzantine wars. To an inexperienced eye, it looked as though Seripatese was bolting in riderless panic.
Hidden behind the Saxon shield wall, the Vikings lost track of their hated antagonist. Seeing the clever riding trick, Cedric and Gisela promptly copied their leader’s stunt with mixed success. Cedric fell off and Gisela got stuck because she had not tightened her girth strap enough. When they finally met with Drustina, she and the Saxon footmen beside her were laughing uproariously despite the horror all around them.
Drustina quickly dismounted and yanked hard at the girth strap of Gisela’s pony.
“Next time make sure your horse and saddle is properly harnessed you silly bugger. Have you ever practised what I just did?”
Gisela wagged her head somewhat sheepishly.
“No Lioness; never.”
“Well now’s not the time to bloody learn is it? Come on let’s fire off some arrows here then dash back to the other end of our shield wall and spread further confusion amongst those butchers. Oh Cedric don’t try and copy us, you’re too big, you’re too heavily armoured and you’re horse cannot stay balanced, that’s why his unsteady gait dislodged you. This is mostly a woman’s trick unless the man is light and/or an expert horseman.”
So saying, she and Gisela galloped behind the Saxon shield-wall to re-appear at the other end adding to the mayhem and confusion.
By now the opposing shield-walls had engaged and Drustina’s usefulness with her bow was over. Now it was sword against sword in hand to hand fighting. She ordered some mounted archers to shoulder their bows and use their longer swords to back the footmen up. It was a manoeuvre that she had practiced with a select few of her men and she now put her theory to the test. When the shield wall met there was a heavy press as combatants tried to strike with swords whilst also pushing hard against their foe. The heavier foe often won by weight as much as sword skills. Drustina had seen this tactic several times and thought long and hard about it. Now she was to try out a new idea.
The allied riders with the most reliable horses sidled up behind their own footmen to provide the Saxons with a secure wall of horseflesh to fall back against. This meant the Viking heavyweights could not force their way by sheer weight. Simultaneously the mounted archers were now able to reach out over their companion’s heads and add a second sword to every other Saxon’s blade. The engaged Vikings suddenly found themselves confronting two ranks of swords, one at body height and a second blade now attacking from on high ... horseback high.
This tactic only worked for about a dozen horse-lengths because it was innovative, experimental and not fully tested. Drustina only despatched a dozen horsemen initially to see if her idea worked. If it went wrong, Drustina could not afford to allow an irreparable breach to form in the Saxon shield-wall.
As other archers watched in amazement, the Viking wall faltered and eventually a breach was rent. At that critical point, Drustina eased more of her horsemen forward and the horse-wall was slowly added to behind the Saxon rank. As the breach widened, Drustina momentarily had a clear view of the whole Viking disposition. The second rank of Viking reinforcements was now massing feverishly to close the breach. They were tightly clustered in the centre to immediately block the Saxon shield-wall by presenting a monolithic block.
Drustina watched the Vikings gathering together and cursed silently. If the Vikings made a massed charge at any particular point they would almost certainly break through. The obvious point for the Vikings to charge was where their own shield-wall had been breached.
‘If Carl could see that dense mass of Vikings, it would provide an ideal target for his trebuchet.’ She mused.
Once again, she was forced to turn to her reliable messenger, the Viking Princess.
“Gisela! Take a squadron of riders for protection and ride like the wind to circle the Viking perimeter. Try and get word to Carl to fire his trebuchet over the little ridge. He’ll be firing blind so tell him to watch for my arrow signals.”
She handed Gisela a scribbled note in Latin and repeated the instructions verbally.
“Tell him this ... red arrow - aim more to the north; green arrow - aim further south. Two white arrows - extend the range. One white arrow - shorten the range.
Two green arrows will mean commence firing and finally two red arrows means stop firing. If we can land a few well placed boulders into that seething mass, we’ll win this day.”
Gisela knew that speed was of the essence and she galloped away even as her surprised escort struggled to catch up with her. Drustina smiled, ‘the girl was nothing if not intelligent.’
She turned to face the fray again then signalled to the kings to prepare the Cavalry for a charge. If the Vikings did make one desperate massed attack, the most effective counter would be to drive the cavalry into their flank.
For the moment the shield wall immediately in front of her was unopposed where the Viking line had broken. Despite the apparent advantage of having demonstrated their fighting superiority Drustina was forced to shout at her troops to hold their line intact and not peel off to attack the remnant ends of the Viking line. That would be sheer folly for Harald’s reinforcements would immediately charge through the breach and smash into Drustina’s inner ring which was woefully short of men.
She looked back with no small relief when she spotted Edrinor’s Mercian Cavalry cantering around to the north and position itself on Drustina’s left flank. She wondered where the Viking cavalry might be but so far there had been no sign. She could not let unknown factors dictate her tactics but she had to heed the uncertainties. After studying the field intensely she could see only one viable tactic. She gathered what was left of her mounted bowmen and prepared to meet any massed Viking charge with her remaining squadron of horsemen. Her hope being that the horses’ weight and speed would delay the concentrated mass of Viking attackers long enough for Edrinor’s horsemen to slice at an angle through the weakened line of the outer Viking shield wall and hit the massed Viking column on the flank.
She was just about to raise her sword and signal her horsemen forward when, to her surprise, she spotted fireballs streaking into the sky further behind the Viking ranks and landing unseen behind the Viking ridge.
‘Surely Gisela could not have reached Carl already?’ She pondered.
There followed much disorganised cursing and shouting as from behind the ridge there emerged several squadrons of Viking horsemen who had suffered from the flaming barrage Drustina grinned wolfishly.
‘Carl you clever bastard. So that’s why you didn’t reveal your trebuchet immediately!’
Cold-blood had been holding what few cavalry he had behind the ridge and out of sight. Carl’s bombardment from the seaward side of the Viking rear had made their location unsafe and they had emerged into view to protect themselves from the fireballs. Drustina watched as a small group of Vikings emerged from the Main Viking column to go and remonstrate with the Viking horse commander. It was obvious that the leaders were arguing. The small group of riders were obviously the Viking high command for Drustina had recognised Cold-blood – the Viking who had raped her when she was spying in The Havre before the battle of Solanta.
‘So Cold-blood, we meet again but this time on more equal terms!’ Drustina mused.
To her surprise the Viking horsemen re-positioned themselves to the south of the main Viking column and she wondered why. The obvious place would have been to go north of the main column and position themselves between their foot-soldiers and the obvious threat of the Saxon horse. Drustina turned to Cedric and the commander of the Saxon shield-wall.
“Why would they do that, d’you think?”
“They must have some sort of trap prepared on their right flank. I haven’t seen any Viking archers as yet; mounted or on foot.” Cedric offered.
Drustina nodded thoughtfully as she concurred. She turned to the foot commander with questioning eye-brows.
“What are your thoughts?”
“I think Cedric’s right. Where are their archers?”
“Have they got any?” Cedric added.
Drustina shrugged a ‘don’t know’ as she peered towards where the fireballs were originating.
“If they have got any, I should think they’ll be preoccupied with neutralising Carl and his trebuchet at this very moment.”
Drustina fell into a thoughtful silence. Her earlier intelligence had led her to believe Carl had enough troops to protect the trebuchet but now she wasn’t sure. By declaring the trebuchet’s presence he was now inviting as much retribution as Harald Cold-blood could spare. She was watching Edrinor’s cavalry milling around on her left flank when, to her immense relief, a pair of green signal arrows from Carl’s presumed position told her that Gisela had reached the Saxon with Drustina’s request. It also meant Carl now had another squadron of mounted bowmen to help protect his precious engine of war. Drustina waited with bated breath until the first flaming fireball streaked high into the air and landed to the north of the Viking massed column.
The fighting momentarily eased as all heads on both sides turned to see the fall of shot. Drustina nodded with satisfaction and fired her signal to correct the aim. The next shot landed on the edge of the column with sufficient devastation to cause the Viking force to vacillate as the injured men cursed and cried with shock and pain.
‘That’ll give them pause,’ Drustina nodded as she signalled for greater range.
The third fireball landed with satisfactory accuracy in the midst of the Viking column and suddenly the tight formation started to break up as men sensed real danger. The next trebuchet shot comprised several smaller stones that spread pandemonium in the Viking column as a score of men fell dead or injured throughout Cold-blood’s formation. Drustina did not see where all the stones had fallen but Cedric let out a yell of joy as he called Drustina’s attention to a cameo in the centre of the Viking ranks. A high ranking warrior was obviously having great difficulty controlling his horse that seemed to have suffered some sort of injury from the last of Carl’s barrage.
“That looks like Constin’s colours if I’m not mistaken.” Drustina declared to nobody in particular though several men nearby heard her words as she added. “By the Gods! The Scottish king is unhorsed and on foot!”
In her mind Drustina prayed fervently that Carl would continue the loose-stone barrage but she was mildly disappointed when another fireball appeared instead. It fell with perfect accuracy and Drustina frowned with some annoyance.
‘If that had been a load of loose stones it would have absolutely devastated the front ranks of the column’.
She wondered how she could get Carl to change his ammunition but his next firing settled her frustration. For want of hard information, Carl was alternating his shots between solid shot and scatter-shot. The next round did for the Viking discipline as brave men decided for themselves that standing around in a massed body only presented the unknown attacker with a seemingly perfect target.
More experience Viking heads concluded that if the Vikings were going to avoid the fire from the heavens, they had best get amongst the Saxon ranks and cause the unknown artilleryman to stop.
To this end, without Harald’s leave, the front ranks of the Viking column charged across the clear ground where the original Viking shield wall had been breached. Unfortunately these brave Vikings had not been able to see Edrinor’s Cavalry poised to counter exactly such a charge.
Drustina turned to wave frantically towards Edrinor to send his cavalry into the flank of the Viking charge but he or his commander was already ahead of her. She let out a curse of relief as a beautiful sight filled her gaze.
‘Thank the gods somebody in Edrinor’s ranks has got the sense!’ She announced to her immediate companions.
Edrinor’s heavy horse was thundering across the field of battle to slam through the weakened right flank of the Viking Shield wall then hurtle on unhindered straight into right flank of the main Viking charge. Unprepared men started to fall like corn before the Mercian horse and Drustina slumped with relieved satisfaction. The first really effective telling blow against Harald himself had at last been struck.
However, the battle was by no means over. Harald brought his own cavalry from behind his hill and urged them to advance along the left side of the Viking column and then wheel right to try and meet the Mercian charge even whilst mixing it amongst his own foot-soldiers. Drustina immediately spotted the real danger to Edrinor’s cavalry. If they were stopped in the midst of the Viking foot-soldiers then the mêlée would become totally unpredictable and the advantage would clearly lie with the Vikings who would have both foot and horse against Edrinor’s exposed horsemen. Edrinor needed immediate back-up.
Without hesitating Drustina screamed to her remaining Saxon horsemen.
“Each of you gather a footman on your back and follow me. Soldiers open a gap! Now!”
Only about a hundred horsemen managed to gather a companion to ride pillion but it was the first telling step as Drustina’s small force hurtled out of the hastily made gap and dashed across the corpse-littered ground to engage the Viking horse just as it was about to wheel right and into their own column. As she and Cedric clashed into the front rank her followers shed their pillion riders who immediately gathered to form a small phalanx to protect their tiny squadron of horse.
It was a desperate move by Drustina but it sent a clear message to Edrinor’s horsemen as they realised two things. There was now a clear objective to make for, namely Drustina’s desperately outnumbered squadron and all importantly a small band of Saxon foot-soldiers who could obstruct the Viking left flank. The left flank and their immediate columns were now too engaged with the Saxons on the outer flank to be able to turn inwards and defend themselves against Edrinor’s horsemen as they trampled desperately across the Viking mass.
Over the heads of the Viking foot-men Drustina was able to momentarily wave her sword towards the Mercian commander whom she now recognised as the very same scout at the Frod ledge; Edrinor’s son.
The acknowledgement was only momentary however for each was fully pre-occupied with their immediate battles.
Drustina felt she had been fighting for hours but it was actually little more than five minutes when she heard a horn blowing from the Saxon Ranks.
At long last, Ethelred had decided to move as he advanced his own Saxon bodyguard across the killing ground and into Drustina’s rear.
The final addition of fifty Saxon horse coupled with Ethelred’s own bodyguard of about five hundred of his best skilled and best equipped foot-soldiers proved to be the final straw.
They charged the extreme left Viking front rank and forced the defenders to turn to their left to defend themselves. Like a mower reaping corn the Saxon charge shaved the edge of the Viking column until they met with Drustina’s exhausted squadron. Drustina had no time to greet him as she fought desperately with the enraged Vikings. She only had time to curse the Saxon King.
“What bloody kept you!?” She snarled before turning again to fend off another furious assault.
Ethelred did not reply for he was immediately engaged by several Vikings who had recognised the King’s personal colours and high grade armour.
It was clear to everybody in the battle that the two horsemen in the midst of the fight were of the highest rank and immediate targets for all to attack. Fortunately the Saxon King's own bodyguard and Drustina’s self-appointed protectors also recognised the danger to their leaders as they raised their shield to protect the leaders from the occasional arrow or spear that was fired from amongst the Viking’s rapidly depleting ranks.
After much ferocious fighting, Edrinor’s son eventually made it to Drustina’s side and he was shocked by the warrior queen’s blood streaked appearance.
“Well met Lioness! Are you injured?”
Drustina did not even have time to turn from her combat as she replied.
“And well fought yourself Mercian! Are you hurt?”
“My right leg is cut but I still have my arms. We have divided the Viking column. The front ranks are surrounded and being cut to pieces.”
“Then let us make for those blasted horsemen who watch us from the hill.”
The prince glanced up and gasped.
“Is that Cold-blood?”
“The very same! I want him for the thousand hurts he has done me!”
“You and me both Lioness!”
“And that man there would have a bone to pick I’m sure.”
The Mercian Prince raised his visor and stared.
“Is that Ethelred?” He asked slightly surprised to find the king himself in the very thick of the hardest fighting. “Right here in the midst?”
Drustina replied curtly.
“The man is no coward Mercian; a bit slow to grasp tactics or strategy but he is never a coward.”
So saying, Drustina forced her way towards Ethelred as the Mercian prince followed tight alongside her. It was fortunate because even as she joined the king, a sword appeared from below and she only just managed to deflect it from Ethelred’s vitals.
The king was fighting furiously with a mounted Viking and had not noticed the footman sneaking low but Drustina had. Ethelred had just pulled his sword from the Viking horseman’s shoulder when he sensed rather than saw the deflected blade slither uselessly up his thigh as Drustina’s blade held it off the king’s body. He cursed thankfully as he recognised his saviour.
“By all the cancers of hell I thank you lioness! That was a close run thing. Are we winning d’you think?”
Drustina’s well experienced eye reassured both Saxon king and Mercian prince as she shouted an assuring ‘YES!’ It was a reply designed to reassure all around them as she pointed her sword towards Harald and his allies still trapped upon the hill.
"See there comrades. The Viking king has the River Mersea and Brunbah creek at his back and the victorious Saxo-Mercian army steadily grinding its way up the hill towards him."
There was no escape to Cold-blood’s rear for Carl’s trebuchet was now pounding the remaining Viking ships bottled up in the creek and several sunken ships now blocked all hope of escape by sea. As the three leaders finally crested a piedmont plateaux on Harald’s hill they were stunned to see the mayhem that Carl’s trebuchet had wreaked amongst the crowded Viking supply ships. It was obvious to all that Harald Cold-blood was caught like a rat in a trap.
“We have him!” Ethelred declared as Drustina felt the hot flush of victory tingle through her veins
~oo000oo~
The Battle is finally won and Drustina uses her remarkable whiles to tame the Viking beast.
The Angry Mermaid 126
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 126.
As she and her army advanced towards her enemy Drustina had to admire the Vikings’ courage. They retreated inwards in good order as their perimeter shrank with the steady attrition of their forces. Eventually the Vikings were reduced to a large group of defiant warriors who looked fully prepared to die to a man.
To Drustina, it seemed such a waste. Such able bodied men would make good slaves or even decent landsmen if they were prepared to accept quarter. There was no doubt at all that the battle was won for there were now barely a thousand Vikings confronting several thousand well trained and battle hardened Saxons and Mercians plus many Cambrians and Hibernians. The roars and clamour of battle had subsided to little more than the harsh clash of blades and the occasional cry of pain. The Vikings simply fought mechanically and with grim, silent determination as they realised the end was close. The Allies also fought in silence because they were similarly exhausted and breath was no longer cheap.
Drustina seemed to be the first to emerge from the almost hypnotic mind-set of battle as she saw her sword pierce what turned out to be a young Viking lad, barely out of adolescence.
The sight of his tearful face coughing up his last blood spattered breath as he tried to cry like any child, the sound of his last choking breath was enough for Drustina. Her adversary had been but a child! In the heat of the battle she had not noticed.
‘By the gods!’ She wondered. ‘Have I become a child killer now?’
A wave of nausea overtook her as she glanced around to see that there were no immediate threats or targets. Deeming it safe, she suddenly let rip a deafening, piercing, banshee scream pitched only as a woman could; so high and loud it penetrated even the clash of weapons.
“Stop!!!! Stop a moment! I offer you remaining Vikings quarter!!”
For a brief moment the clash of weapons halted as all men recognised a woman’s command that could only have been the Lioness. Ethelred span around to confront the Lioness by bellowing over the heads of his men.
“What the hell are you doing girl?!!! Are you insane? We must finish this bloody Norse threat once and for all!”
Drustina wagged her head in disagreement. It was just the opposite! She had not gone insane, she had just become sane! In her years of endless combat she had found that even the most brave or brutal kings sometimes accepted quarter in extremis. Even if their loyal supporters and warriors were sworn to fight to the death, Kings occasionally proved to be more amenable and logical when confronted with certain death. Throughout their peacetime existences, kings had to learn the arts of politics and compromise; treaty and arbitration. Drustina knew she was looking at at least two kings fighting to the death and she now had time to test her ideas.
‘Was Harald amenable to negotiations?’ She asked herself as swords remained poised to resume the clash and clamour of war. ‘Did all Vikings seriously wish to die bravely in combat as the only key to open the gates of Valhalla?’ Drustina thought not ... ‘not all surely.’
Her sudden acquisition of total control of all the combatants on both sides was almost euphoric but she kept her head as she screamed across the bloodied mass of wounded and paused men. The very fact that the Vikings had seemingly stopped to listen, told the Lioness that at least some wished to see their homes, women and children again. Having brought the battlefield to its unexpected silence, Drustina called again.
“Cold-blood! Constin! Forden! I offer you quarter!! Will you accept terms?”
“Constin is dead!” Came the reply that Drustina recognised as the voice of the man who had raped her but three years ago on the training fields of The Havre.
She was about to reply to Cold-blood almost conversationally because the remaining Viking leaders had not yet refused point blank. Before she spoke however Ethelred forced his way to Drustina’s side through the press of armsmen.
“What in God’s name are you up to woman?!! We have them at our mercy!”
“I know!” Drustina snapped back impatiently. “But mercy is a woman’s prerogative and I want that man alive!!”
“Why woman? In God’s name why?!!!”
“I have my reasons and I have the power. Look about you Eth; all these men, friend and foe alike have stopped! They are obeying me; not you, not Cold-blood ... me!” Drustina replied as she turned again to shout across the swathe of death and destruction that now lay silent at Seripatese’s bloodied hooves. Her voice rang out clear and shrill yet somehow commanding attention.
“Cold-blood, I am waiting for your reply! I also know that the Scottish King Constin had a son old enough to fight; is not that Scottish prince with you now to speak in his dead father’s stead?”
A young man sitting just in front of and below Harald Cold-blood raised his helmet and replied.
“I am woman! What do you offer?”
Drustina noted that Cold-blood had not censured his young Scottish companion nor had the Viking leaders broken out into argument. She realised there was obviously some room to manoeuvre so she gently rested her bloodied fingers on Ethelred’s tired and trembling arm as she indicated her feelings.
“I think they are prepared to parley your majesty; are you?”
“Is it worth it?” Ethelred replied while gasping with fatigue and clutching tightly to his pommel.
Drustina noted only then that Ethelred was also carrying a wound for blood was flowing over her fingers. She replied gently as she tapped his arm to acknowledge that she realised his arm was cut.
“Every man is a mother’s son Eth. I am a mother so I am asking; is there need for any more killing?”
“Huh a typical woman’s view!”
Drustina turned sharply; ready to scold the king but she found him grinning with relief as he wiped his face of spattered blood. Drustina had also brought respite for the Saxons because if they resumed fighting, Saxons and Mercians would also continue to die. He hid his gratitude for her skilful diplomacy and remarked.
“No offence Lioness but you as you say, you are a mother and mothers worry for their sons.”
“And rightly so Eth, rightly so! Hush, I think they might be going to reply.”
She and Ethelred turned to towards the small hillock where the Viking high-command stood defiantly. A third voice called back. It was Forden the Irish cousin of Harald Cold-blood.
“What terms do you offer?”
Drustina openly confessed.
“We don’t know yet; we’ve only just stopped fighting. Firstly, we can certainly offer you your lives if you're disposed to keep them.”
“Are you offering to parley then?”
Drustina recognised the Scottish prince again and she turned to Ethelred just as Gisela was returning from Carl and the Trebuchet. The Norse princess had just overheard King Forden as she eased her horse through the exhausted press of men. When she joined Drustina she added her view.
“Are you seriously preparing to parley with them?”
“Yes princess.” Drustina answered. “This is how it should be. After war there must be magnanimity or the whole bloody thing can re-emerge in the next generation. The Scottish prince at least sounds amenable to parley. Is Carl alright?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s very pleased with his handiwork. Can I speak with my father then?”
“Be our guest,” Ethelred replied, “but not just yet; let us get the man to the negotiating table and hammer out a deal.”
“My father is not prone to negotiating.” Gisela replied thoughtfully as she rubbed her injured and bleeding shoulder.
“He will be now Princess,” Drustina reassured her. “He has no options but death or parley. Does your shoulder hurt?”
“I can hardly lift my arm. Fortunately it is not my sword arm.”
“Then all the more reason to parley. If you are wounded you’re ten times more vulnerable in a battle. Surely you do not wish to die here at the very threshold of victory?”
“I can still fight!” Gisela replied angrily. “That man owes me.”
“Then talk with him! Demand that he pays what he owes if he’s prepared to talk. Your voice will throw him. It will tell him you are alive – for better or worse. Go on; shout to him, make him realise he has another daughter besides the brood mares he has married off for political ends! ... A girl of some greater worth than just a baby machine! Speak to him, your voice will turn his head.”
The lioness’s words gave Gisela pride for it countered the usual misogynistic accusations about her sapphism and presumed sterility. Gisela was not sterile she just did not want some brutal, forceful man in her bed. Her eyes teared up in gratitude to Drustina.
“Thank you Lioness let us see if you are right,” Gisela replied as she stood proud in her saddle so her father could see her.
The Viking princess called across the stilled battlefield and for long moments the silence was overpowering. Finally Cold-blood himself replied.
“Is that really you Gisela?” The surprise and emotion clearly cracking his voice.
The young princess became too emotional to reply so Drustina replied for her. Only Drustina, as a woman, could understand the turmoil twisting through Gisela’s young head – a daughter’s head. The Lioness replied in Gisela’s stead.
“Yes! It is your daughter Cold-blood, she would speak with you if only to curse you but we must all speak of other things as well. I ask again, are you prepared to accept quarter and parley?”
Cold-blood bellowed clearly across the battle field and sighs of relief whispered forth on both sides.
“Very well Lioness! We are prepared to talk about talks.”
This time the Viking’s reply had come back immediately and Drustina smiled knowingly at the young princess.
“I told you girl! I told you your voice would affect him.”
Ethelred also snorted with relief and surprise.
“Well that’s a bloody start and no mistake! He’s always lived by the sword until now.”
Drustina turned and grinned at the Saxon king then suggested.
”We’d better call Edrinor down off his hill; he’s got an older wiser head.”
“Not as wise as yours Drustina,” Gisela observed and several voices murmured ‘aye’ amongst the loyal foot soldiers that were closest to them.
Drustina turned to Edrinor’s son who had also now finally reached them after much furious and bloody fighting. His arms and face were spattered with blood and gore showing evidence of his hard sword-work.
“Good to see you Mercian and well fought may I say. Go and get your father, there is talk of parley and he is a wise man. You will learn much from him.”
The Mercian prince’s eyes widened with gratitude at Drustina’s remark, for many had deemed Edrinor to be a weak and vacillating coward. Such a description from the Lioness of Carthage no less, was praise indeed. He spoke softly for he also was weary from killing.
“Thank you Lioness, I will fetch him. His bones ache with age and the journey from Nottingham has been hard on him.”
“I know that my friend. Campaigning is a young man’s game!”
“Or woman’s,” the Mercian replied as his weary expression brightened into a grateful smile. He saluted the Lioness with his sword and turned to fetch his father.
Ethelred watched the prince depart and turned to Drustina with a new respect.
“You have a way of winning men over don’t you Dru?”
“I try Eth, I try, now shall we meet with these Viking kings?”
“Do we go armed?” Ethelred wondered aloud.
“Sadly Eth, I think yes. Trust nobody at this stage!”
Slowly they eased their way up the hillock through the mayhem of blood, bodies, wounded and the exhausted survivors. Drustina recognised several of her oldest companions amongst them. A deep sorrow overtook her and she was truly glad to be parleying.
~o00o~
As they made their way up the hill, Drustina sat slump shouldered in the saddle as relief began to invade her exhausted body. Seripatese sensed her weariness and moved extra gently as she picked her way delicately between the corpses over the muddy ground made yet more slippery by blood. Ethelred and Gisela quartered Drustina’s flanks and a phalanx of Ethelred’s best bodyguards rode in close company on either side to dissuade any overly zealous Viking from attempting something rash. As the Lioness’s group approached the Viking leaders, Cold-blood signalled to his men to allow them through the outer perimeter. Drustina had expected to meet with a wave of resentment but instead sensed more a mood of weary relief amongst the Norsemen. Slowly the Viking shield-wall parted and Drustina motioned to her companions.
“Wait here please. I’ll go alone from here. There is business I must sort privately and it does not involve killing. It concerns only him and me but it is a very private matter and it might well change his attitude.”
Ethelred cursed.
“Dammit! You can’t do that Lioness! If you go alone they could cut you down like a reaper to the corn!”
“I have to know if he is a man of his word. He accepted quarter so if he honours that acceptance he will not harm me. If I am attacked then the response is yours to decide. If he treats me as he should, then I will know that he is at least a man of honour. I will tell you now Eth, most of the Vikings I have met are at least honourable. Bloody, murderous, greedy and brutal even, but mostly honest with their word and their promises. This is the acid test.”
Ethelred fretted and cautioned his mounted guards.
“If you see the slightest move, charge!”
Drustina acknowledged Ethelred’s support and eased her mare forward. Now she sat upright and proud in her saddle with her breasted cuirass emphasising her maidenly curves, but under that cuirass her heart beat wildly with fear. It would only take a single arrow, a single wrong move! Slowly and deliberately she rode forward.
~oo000oo~
Copyright to Beverly Taff; Author.
Drustina offers terms to the Vikings and very cleverly uses Cold-blood's biggest issue to persuade the butcher to accept quarter.
The Angry Mermaid 127
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 127.
The Vikings stood breathless and panting as they recovered from their exertions, there could be no doubt to every Norseman inside Cold-blood’s concentric shield-walls that this was truly a lioness approaching, and a very brave and beautiful one at that. Even Cold-blood’s lust-filled eyes widened with respect as he watched the young queen ride on with unbelievable courage.
As she approached the innermost ring of Cold-blood’s walls Drustina called out.
“I would speak with the Viking king alone! I have important private business with him.”
Harald frowned uncertainly but his curiosity overtook him for he wondered how on earth the sorceress could have private business with him. He called back.
“That is far enough Lioness! I will meet you alone where you stand!”
Drustina stopped and deliberately struck a proud posture as even Seripatese seemed to sense the occasion. The little mare raised her head high and stood with her tail cocked, as proud as any war-horse could. Drustina noticed the Viking King pause just fractionally, enough to reveal his uncertainty before urging his horse down the slope. They met in silence as the Viking king stared thoughtfully at the beautiful queen before him. Drustina just stared directly at him without flinching or casting her eyes down as other maids were want to do when confronted by Cold-blood and his reputation.
For once Cold-blood felt forced to break the silence, something about the Lioness unsettled him. Her face seemed familiar but he could not place the woman. Eventually he felt compelled to treat with her and determine what possible private business they might share, normally the Viking would have attacked the sorceress without hesitation but the brutal certainty of his own defeat and death had made him amenable. Additionally his curiosity about ‘private business’ overtook him.
“How can there be private business between us? This had better not be some sort of trick! The only possible issue we might share is the fate of my daughter Gisela! I have never met you before? ”
“This does not concern Gisela, and I must correct you on that second statement. We have met before.”
Her answer truly unsettled him as he wondered where and how she had met him. He asked further.
“Where did we meet? When did we meet? I’m sure I would have remembered meeting the Lioness of Carthage!”
“Do you not remember?”
Cold-blood replied uncertainly.
“No. No I don’t.”
Drustina smiled inwardly; ‘it was always good to have one’s adversary on the back foot.’ She replied.
“Viking, I can read the lust in your eyes even now, just as it was when we first met. Yet still you do not remember me. Do you remember any of the women you have raped?”
Cold-blood’s eyes widened with uncertainty.
“Raped?”
“Oh yes, you took me once when I was but a humble carter.”
The faintest inkling of memory tantalised Harald’s mind as he vaguely recalled the training field in France.
“Was that in Gaul, in the city of The Havre?”
“It was,” Drustina confirmed as she continued. “Do you remember the ragged blond girl driving the cartload of supplies to feed your cavalry as they were training on the field? I saw the greed in your eyes then as I see it now. You simply took that girl for your pleasure, just as a greedy beast tears a piece of meat off its prey, or a hungry man breaks a crust from the loaf.”
Cold-blood sat stupefied.
“You!! You were her?”
“The very same. I was gathering intelligence. Do you remember? I asked you a question and you answered even as your lust drove your loins. You were more preoccupied with your dick than your kingly duties. It’s amazing how so many men think only with their cocks! You answered my questions even as you took your pleasure.”
Cold-blood cursed softly.
“By the Gods I should have killed you there and then; now I survey the consequences of your so-called intelligence gathering.”
Drustina smiled inwardly as she replied.
“If you killed me now there would be other consequences. You would die immediately of course but then your only son would be orphaned.”
The mention of a son touched the rawest nerve in Cold-blood’s being and his eyes blazed.
“Damn you Lioness, you know I have no sons! Nor nephews it seems if I recognise that haulm you wear!”
“Never mind the haulm; it was an honest trophy of a well fought battle. If it belonged to your nephew then I can only tell you he fought well and bravely. Now, as I said Viking, there were other consequences of that rape, your act of gratuitous abuse that day on the training field.”
Suddenly the light switched on in the Viking King’s brain and he gaped in stunned realisation. The words ‘consequence of that rape’ suddenly acquired immense portent in his battle weary mind.
“Are you saying the consequence of that, that – (he struggled to find a more suitable word and ended up conceding the original word) - that rape as you call it?” He paused still uncertain.
Drustina’s jaw stiffened as she fixed his suspicious gaze.
“It certainly was a rape Viking. You neither asked for nor were given my consent.”
“But you did not object or struggle, all you did was talk, ask questions as though casual carnality was an everyday event in the life of some common whore!”
“That was my purpose you idiot! And that whore’s price was information. The other consequence was an unintended by-product.
“Oh yes, you mentioned the other the consequences?” He asked again expectantly as he recalled the Lioness’s words. “These consequences, are they what comes naturally from what was done that day?”
“Yes! The consequences are toddling about in Ethelred’s Palace in Winchester. My twin son and daughter play with their older half-siblings blissfully unaware that their father is deemed the arch enemy of all Saxons and Mercians, all Celts and Hibernians.”
Cold-blood’s jaw could not have sagged any lower as he stared in stunned silence.
“Are you telling me the truth? Are you saying I am a father, to a son – by you ... the Lioness of Carthage!!?”
Drustina shrugged and feigned indifference but in truth she was relishing Cold-blood’s shock for she knew, all importantly, it was changing the man’s attitude even as they talked.
“Yes! You are!”
Cold-blood stared at her as his mind fumbled with the enormity. ‘A son! A bloody son! And by the finest dam a man of weapons could ever hope for. This was a son that any Viking king would desperately hope to father!’ Then the doubts betook him.
“How do I know you are telling the truth? Any man could be the father!”
“If you accept quarter and choose life, you can meet with the boy and his sister. I can have them brought to Chester but it will take some time. Both the boy and his sister have your stamp and both children have the same birthmark as you, the same brown mark on your belly. Who but your wives or the women you raped would know of that mark? There can be no doubt Cold-blood; he is your son – and mine!”
“No other man has forced himself upon you then?” Cold-blood pressed.
Drustina snorted derisively.
“No man could ever force himself upon me Viking. This sword and these daggers would ensure that. Many have tried –and some have died ... none have succeeded.”
“But I did,” he replied with a mixture of pride and suspicion coupled with a growing remorse.
Drustina mocked him with condescension.
“You did not force yourself upon me Viking, I let you have me. It suited my purpose to prostitute myself for my own political ends. Today I gained those ends though I did not foresee my being put with child. More importantly to me, you were so pre-occupied that day with your gratification you let slip vital information as your brain emptied itself of all sense – through its other mouth.”
Cold-blood frowned as the realisation hit him hard. He had been played for a fool on the training fields of The Havre.
“You bloody used me!” He cursed.
Drustina let out an almost maniacal cackle of laughter.
“Ha ha! And you’re saying you didn’t use me! You raped me! You didn’t seek consent.”
The Viking fell into a contemplative silence then asked almost graciously.
“Alright; I concede it was rape, it happens in war. But you seemed unhurt by it and no violence ensued. Now I realise why. Will I ever I see the boy?”
“For that you must agree to accept quarter. My allied kings and princes and even a certain Viking princess would kill you joyfully.”
Cold-blood frowned.
“But only you have the right to offer quarter, it’s obvious you command the field here.”
“You’re right, I do! I note that even you recognise that your men stopped when I called. So I offer you quarter now, privately.” Drustina re-confirmed then added. “I can broadcast it publicly as well if you accept. Do you?”
After several contemplative seconds, the Viking nodded and slowly drew his sword to present it lying flat across his arm. It was a very public act of submission. Drustina remembered her words to Gisela about magnanimity in war and she refused it as she explained.
“You can keep your sword but I will hold it just a moment to show everybody the battle is over. When I return your sword you will also receive my pratique. Will you accept that and honour it?”
“Yes.” He replied. “I accept your pratique.”
Having gained his agreement, she reached down and tore a strip of saddle cloth from Seripatese’s back and wrapped it around her hand. Thus protected from the blade's keen edge, she grasped his sword by the tip, held it high for all to see then promptly handed it back with the handle clearly returned to Cold-blood’s grip. If he wanted he could have easily plunged it into her neck. He didn’t and thus demonstrated that quarter had been given and accepted honourably.
With that act finished he asked about other questions that were now burning in his head; the questions that had persuaded him to accept quarter.
“Is the boy safe, is he free. Do they know about the boy? Does Gisela know she has a brother?”
“Of course the boy is safe ... and free. He is my son not my prisoner!! Credit me with some motherliness. Nobody knows about your twins but me and one other – and now you. That makes only three.”
“So the boy is safe from their vengeance?”
Drustina snorted dismissively and changed the whole tone by addressing him by his familiar name.
“They are my children Harald! Nobody would dare to harm a child of the Lioness of Carthage! Every Saxon, Mercian, Celtic and Hibernian sword in this army would know the reason why! ... Plus a certain Viking princess!”
“My daughter?”
“Who else? She lives freely as my ward and she absolutely loves the little boy and his twin sister; even though she has no idea they are her half siblings. So don’t worry, Gisela is safe, you will get to meet her soon, if she chooses to let you and if you apologise for the wrongs she has suffered.”
The Viking’s face split into a wide grin, partly with relief and partly out of recognising just how skilful the Lioness was at persuasion.
“Those are several damned good reasons for my agreeing to accept quarter. My spies were right; you are a very clever woman Lioness ... and a brave one. Might I; dare I, also say a beautiful one?”
Drustina couldn’t help feeling a little tingle of pleasure at his observation. Every woman savoured a sincere compliment. However her aforementioned cleverness quickly suppressed any vulnerability to flattery and she replied.
“Why thank you Viking, but don’t let my husband hear you say that!”
Cold-blood got the message. The stunningly beautiful queen was not available! He asked himself.
‘If she was the Lioness, then what nature of Lion had won her; what sort of superlative warrior must he be to have impressed this unbelievable woman? – And then won her hand.’
Drustina also could not help but wonder to herself.
‘This Viking king was a strange piece of work. The man had only just escaped from the threat of certain death but his lower brain was still driving his thoughts. What normal man would still be trying to flatter a girl when she had just held his balls in her hand and his life by a thread?’
She concluded to herself that ‘the poor bugger couldn’t help it’, like many men who lusted for power, they usually lusted for power over women as well. Cold-blood fitted that image exactly but it was now immaterial. She wanted to move things along so she nodded towards her companions and declared.
“If we are to Parley, you had better call your allies down from the hill and we can meet my companions.”
Cold-blood waved his hand to invite the other Viking leaders then he continued talking to the Lioness as the Irish King and Scottish Prince descended the hill to meet with her Allies.
~o000o~
On the slope where the fighting had paused, Edrinor rode up to meet with Ethelred and Gisela as they sat watching the Lioness and the Viking king in earnest conversation.
“Hail Saxon, what are those two talking about?” He asked.
“Welcome Mercian, frankly we none of us have any idea but they’ve been talking for some time and, all importantly, he has accepted quarter. How she managed that I would truly love to know and I hope she has not conceded too much. Ah! We have action as I speak; look the other Viking leaders are joining them.”
Edrinor and Ethelred sat side by side watching the Lioness and the Viking as they waited for the other Viking leaders to join them.
Edrinor stared fixatedly before remarking.
“She seems to have him eating out of her hand. I do believe that might have been a smile on the butcher’s countenance.”
“He has been smiling. The Lioness has that effect on men,” Gisela observed.
“Aye she does that Princess,” Ethelred agreed. “Just look at the man; you’re right Edrinor! He’s actually smiling!”
“Well, I suppose we’ll find out in due course.” Edrinor’s son added as he wagged his head in mild disbelief. “My God, that woman has beauty and charm!”
“And wit.” Edrinor added as his older, wiser head soon brought the preening victors down to earth. ”So gentlemen ... and lady, what is to be the first order of discussion with this Viking?”
Gisela replied as she glared across the bloody field towards her approaching father and the Lioness.
“Perhaps we’d best leave that to the Lioness. She already seems to have the beast eating out of her hand.”
~o0o~
The two sides met in an awkward silence that pressed on all sides as each individual privately debated how to go forward. The scale and portent of the victory now left them uncertain and overawed at their own success.
Only Drustina and Carl had experienced such large battles before. Battles where so many were wounded, so many killed and there was so much destruction; battles where the outcome left so much to gain and so much to lose.
Carl had not yet returned from his success on the salient, nor had Udris and Dorvan secured their ships to join the parley so uncertainty prevailed on several accounts.
Drustina deliberately let the silence hang while the soft sighing and moaning of the wounded started to invade everybody’s thoughts.
Drustina had been in this place many times before; the cruel realisation that often overwhelmed survivors as they came to recognise the damage that had been done. Very few survivors could remain unaffected, especially if they had been in the thick of it and knowingly survived only because some companion had prevented their injury by striking an unobserved attacker. And now that companion might be lying possibly dead or wounded. A debt forever owed and never to be paid. The silence endured and Drustina let it ... a priceless lesson for the survivors where words could never settle the accounts.
~o000o~
Eventually, it was Harald Cold-blood who broke the impasse as uncertainty chipped at his nerve.
“Are we to Parley here or is there a better place?”
Drustina was tempted to reply that "Here was as good as any." for there were living witnesses aplenty and yet more dead to illustrate the cost.” Instead she let the silence endure; 'let it be for one of the others to reply,’ she mused.
Finally Edrinor’s wisdom built the essential bridge that got the talks moving.
“Firstly gentlemen and ladies, I would offer that we have a right to know if what the Lioness and the Viking were discussing is material to our deliberations.”
He turned with eyebrows arched questioningly towards Drustina. She wagged her head.
“Not yet. There are more important things to sort like what of the future of these Islands and is there to be a lasting agreement? My business with the Viking depends upon what is hammered out here.”
Edrinor then took the bull by the horns.
“Very well then; firstly Viking there must be a price for our offering you quarter. Lands and titles to those lands. Your promise to relinquish all claims to the lands north of the Mersea and the Umbre and an agreed border between The Saxon kingdoms and Scotia.”
“Am I to have nothing? Am I to go home a pauper king?” Harald asked.
“You keep your realm of Norway and you do have something else Viking,” Drustina replied, “but for now only you and I here know of its priceless value to you.”
Cold-blood harrumphed then grinned, much to everybody’s surprise.
“Very well Lioness, I suppose a man can wish for nothing better than that! I do hereby relinquish all claims to the realm known as Britannia.”
Ethelred and Edrinor gasped with disbelief as the wise old Mercian felt forced to confirm the Viking’s declaration.
“What! Just like that, you relinquish all that you fought for!”
“I do,” Cold-blood affirmed. “You won your battle so to the victor, the spoils.
Gisela turned to Drustina.
“By all the gods Lioness, what magic have you woven are you really a sorceress?”
Drustina grinned and glanced at the Viking who grinned back as Drustina addressed Gisela.
“Oh it was certainly magic little princess, magic that you may some-day weave also.”
Gisela cringed in mistaken fear.
“I don’t understand. I am not a sorceress!” She replied uncertainly as she wondered if the Lioness was alluding to her Sapphism.
Drustina immediately picked up on Gisela’s fear and quickly killed the idea before it could take root.
“Oh no, not that sort of magic Gisela. No, we speak of the magic only a woman can weave. You will learn of it one day.”
Even these kind words went over Gisela's head for she was too preoccupied with her Sapphic situation and risks associated with it.
~oo000oo~
Having agreed the main deal, the deal that would one day lay the foundations of the realms that would come to be known as England
, Wales, Ireland and Scotland; the rest of the negotiations were to be little more than the accounting. Who got what, and who lost what. For this a proper venue was arranged in the city of Chester. As the combatants concluded the first primary agreement about Cold-blood ceding his lands, all parties set aside the accounting for they all knew they would be protracted affairs.
The next immediate task turned to clearing up the battlefield and accounting for the dead. Identifying any dead nobles who had land holdings in the north would necessitate the transference of estates from dead Norse jarls to surviving Saxon and Mercian nobles who had served with distinction and deemed worthy of enrichment by their respective kings.
One unexpected outcome was the death of the Saxon Jarl who held the County Palatine of Chester. Edrinor and Ethelred mutually to give that and the Viking Palatine of Lancaster to the Saxon, Carl. These were two of the richest counties in Ethelred’s extended realm for the counties comprised vast swathes of flat rich land from New Sarum in the south to Preston in the north and from the Celtic Sea in the west to the Pennine hills in the east. Carl became an extremely rich overlord.
Drustina rightly claimed and took her title of suzerainty over all the princes of Cambria in addition to title of Lleyn and the mountains of Wyddfa east as far as Carl’s new Palatine of Chester. Because the borders of their lands met at the Dyfrdwy, the couple naturally chose to rule jointly from the city of Chester. Naturally, it was in Chester that victors and losers gathered to finalise the negotiations.
~o00o~
Those negotiations took weeks to complete as interested parties arrived from all quarters of the realm. Some came with legitimate grievances, some chancing their arm and some who had been summoned by Ethelred or Edrinor to explain their actions or inactions.
Throughout these weeks Gisela continually tried to pump the Lioness for an explanation as to how she had bewitched her father but until Drustina's children were at her side and sure of her actual physical protection, Drustina kept her counsel. There was no knowing what angry people might be abroad who had issues with Cold-blood and not yet found requital. If they knew that Cold-blood’s only son was travelling from Winchester to Chester, there was no knowing what wild and irresponsible actions they might take.
Finally, the day arrived when all Drustina’s children save the ones of the Nile, arrived at the Chester Bridgegate with little pomp and no ceremony. Drustina had been advised in secret of their imminent arrival and she had ridden south to New Sarum (Shrewsbury) to meet them and accompany them to her new home.
Early on that auspicious morning, Drustina and her party had emerged out of the early-morning mist to meet with Carl at the city Bridgegate. The city was woken by the crash of hooves on cobbles as the procession made its way to the Castle that had become Drustina’s home. As they were dismounting in the courtyard Ethelred and Edrinor emerged to meet them.
“So you got back safely Dru?”
Drustina grinned.
“Why is your realm not safe Eth? My sister Tara came with the children all the way from Winchester without any trouble she tells me.”
He grinned and helped Drustina’s daughters off their horses while her older son refused assistance as he slid down to earth with aplomb. The youngest son, being just three, needed help and Drustina herself helped him down as she kissed him affectionately.
As she was lifting him, Harald Cold-blood emerged from the great hall; his heart filled up as he saw the mother of his only son holding him in her arms. Careful to hide his emotions he stepped towards the pair and grinned as he saw the child wipe his cheek with embarrassment from his mother’s kiss.
Drustina caught Harald’s eye cautioning him ‘not yet’, and he turned aside showing little sign of his emotions. Gisela however noticed the silent interplay and she turned to stare hard at Drustina as she stepped close enough to whisper.
“What’s going on between you and my father?”
“Inside girl; you’ll learn soon enough. Here hold the boy while I carry his sister.”
Drustina led the way into the hall with her youngest daughter in her arms while Gisela carried the boy. Tara herded the older children whilst chatting to Ethelred to give him news of Winchester about his newborn son. This was important news also to the Mercians because the baby was Edrinor’s grandson and nephew to the Mercian prince.
Finally, Carl followed up the procession whilst talking to Harald because only Carl knew of the twin’s parentage. A secret he had held for the whole of the twin’s lifetimes and an act that endeared him to Harald. The Viking had utter respect for a man who was a proven general, excellent combatant and yet had the wit and skills to win the Lioness’s heart. Most men would have been frightened by the Lioness’s reputation let alone her reputed duality. If they sniggered about Carl marrying a woman with a dick they certainly didn’t do it within his presence. Besides, the Lioness had certainly born children and whatever else she was, she was certainly a woman because she was a mother.
When they had entered the hall Drustina indicated the negotiating table and declared.
“Now gentlemen and ladies, I asked you to come here because there is very important news I have to tell you.”
A rustle of anticipation rippled around the table as silence fell and Drustina continued.
“I know that many of you still wonder how I managed to somehow tame the beast that you faced that day in Brunbah now you will know.”
The silence continued expectantly as Drustina smiled at the Viking King before she took a slow deep breath.
“Many of you have wondered why I never named my two younger twins. Well today I explain. It is a Norse custom that the father names his sons whilst the mother names her daughters; at least it is in Harald’s realm. Am I right Viking?”
Harald nodded as he anticipated the coming pleasure of naming his own son while the mother of his daughter would join him in the same honour by naming the twin daughter. The rest of the negotiators sat around in various degrees of incomprehension as some got an inkling of what was about to be revealed while others remained clueless. Drustina ploughed on.
“I must therefore now finally reveal the father of my youngest twins. It is Harald Cold-blood; the king of Norvegia. However I can tell you now since learning of his being a father he has certainly belied his title. His blood no longer runs cold.”
The surprised silence lasted but a couple of seconds before Gisela squealed with excitement for she now realised that the very toddler she was hugging on her knee was indeed her own and only brother. Drustina expanded.
“You will need proof of this and I will have my revenge now on the many men who used to demand of me my identity by ordering me to bare my arse to show the famous scar that Blue-face gave me. This time I will order the Viking to bare his belly to display a birthmark.”
She flicked her sword impudently towards the Viking king.
“Come on Viking, lift your jerkin and lower your belt.”
“Bitch!” Harald grinned as he unbuckled his belt and tugged the waistband of his britches almost to the point of immodesty.
The rest of those present, gathered around the table perplexed at the activity but Gisela let out a squawk of recognition as she fumbled feverishly with the little boy’s topshirt. (The child had not yet been breeched.(Put into britches.))
“Look! Look! She squealed as she tugged the toddler’s pants down to reveal all – and there it was! A large brown birthmark stretched from navel almost to the little boy’s penis. On seeing it Harald released an oath of fatherly delight and inadvertently stretched his own britches a fraction too far.
“Dammit! He is my son. Look all of you, we share the mark!”
Others gaped but Drustina chuckled censoriously.
“Put the bloody thing away man! You’re disgusting! Have you no shame?”
Harald recovered his senses and realised where he was. He yanked his waistband up again and muttered an apology as Drustina further reinforced her twin’s parentage.
“Please note also that my beautiful daughter also bears a smaller version of her father's mark. Not so large and prominent but evidence enough. Both children are sired by this man. This mark is in Harald's blood, not mine.”
The silence endured for half a minute before Gisela confirmed another feature. She held her brother up to the window space and added.
“Look he even has his father’s ears and his father’s jaw. There is no doubt this little fellow is my brother. I can prove that if I have to. I also have the mar....!”
“Gisela!!" Drustina scolded the princess. There's no need to emulate your father!! Pull your bloody dress down girl. You can prove that later in the lady's chambers. There’s no need to expose your beauty to these lustful toads!”
A rumble of laughter rippled around the table as Ethelred chuckled.
“Toads indeed! Is that what you think of us men Lioness?”
Drustina grinned as she riposted.
“Not all men Eth, I married my Saxon. He's the exception.”
The Viking king nodded enviously.
“Aye. He’s a lucky bugger!” The Viking king conceded. "To have such a beautiful queen for a wife."
Carl was both pleased and embarrassed at the lioness's description of her partner and he blushed with embarrassment
The meeting broke up for the midday meal and after eating Drustina accompanied Harald and Gisela as they strolled in the garden with the twins scampering around their feet.
~oo000oo~
Copyright to Beverly Taff.
After the Battle and initial Negotiations Drustin get's tired of the constant bickering amongst her own Celtic race. She learns that her older brother might be alive and sets off to find him.
The Angry Mermaid 128
Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 128
At the end of the Castle Garden lay the South Western corner of the city walls. At this point the city lay atop a rocky escarpment where the wall had been built to enhance the natural defence formed by the rocky cliff. It was a simple step from the garden to battlement to then look down over the Rodeo across the River Dyfrdwy to the brooding hills of Cambria. Harald joined the Lioness as she stared thoughtfully across at her newly liberated homeland. He spoke thoughtfully.
“Cambria; yours to rule now Lioness.”
Drustina smiled ruefully as she replied.
“Nobody ever really rules Cambria Viking. Each Cambrian is a lord in his own mind and the best a Cambrian prince or princess can wish for is that each of them holds that regent in enough affection to respect his or her wishes.”
“But they respect you Lioness. You have brought them victory and recovered their independence for them. They are free of all yokes now, Viking, Saxon or Mercian.”
“They’re only free to go back to their own internecine squabbling. Give my people six months and one of the princes will be at war with another. That is why the Saxons have been able to divide and rule my people and take all the good land. I give them six to twelve months and they’ll be fighting amongst themselves again or fighting with the Saxons the length and breadth of The Marches.”
“So what are you to do?”
Drustina turned away from the wall and sighed.
“Nothing. I’m sick of fighting, sick of war, sick of trying to patch up differences. The Saxon’s have all but settled their differences and they have a good alliance with the Mercians. Soon both Mercian and Saxon will become one nation; they are already one people who speak the same tongue. My people continue to bicker and squabble. Already I seem to spend all my waking hours arbitrating between one Celtic princeling and another. Carl spends but a couple of hours each morning attending to his governance; I could spend the whole day, every day and never finish the business that is Cambria. The more I look at those hills the more I want to relinquish all suzerainty over my fellow Celts. Just attend to Gwynedd, Lleyn and Sir Fon, my own lands.”
“You are too soft on them Lioness. Knock a few heads together, knock some sense into them.”
Gisela felt bound to speak.
“Your problem Lioness is that you have no more to aim for. You are not yet thirty and you have already achieved what you wanted to do. The problem is that your dream has not matched your reality. Your view of Cambria was the view of that happy little estate where your family used to run their ship-building enterprise. You were but thirteen summers when you departed and your child’s view of that idyll has not matched your adult return. You expect too much.”
~o00o~
Drustina sighed a little wearily. Gisela was probably right, the girl had an old head on young shoulders. It seemed the peace was harder to manage than the war. Every hot-headed Celt with an issue was clamouring for her attention and arbitration about the most minor issues, even seemingly trivial issues like who had rights to water their cattle in which stream.
This was an issue that had infuriated Drustina when she was asked to adjudicate. Two fairly wealthy farmers had dragged the case to her court all the way from Demetae *. The two men were squabbling over a spring that very occasionally dried up for perhaps a month at most in a long, hot, dry summer. Drustina had not been at her best that morning and she got angry as she tore into both of the farmers who were relatively wealthy yeoman land-owners.
“If you’ve got the energy to trudge all the way from Demetae to Chester then you’ve got the energy to build a bloody Dam and make a reservoir of water for your cattle in the summer months! I sentence you to do just that. I am granting you equal rights to the water and that means you’ll have to bring the same number of cattle to the water each day when you have only the reservoir for supply! When the spring is flowing take what you need. By the gods, does not Cambria have water enough; even in Demetae it rains enough to float a longship up every bloody river!”
The farmers had frowned more with embarrassment than discontent. The solution had been made blindingly simple. The truth was they had been too tight fisted to spend effort and money. Drustina had sent them away with a flea in both their ears and an arbitrator from Carl’s court to oversee fair-play with the dam. Being Celts, the farmers were not too happy to have a Saxon act as judge but at least they knew he would be impartial. It was from that simple issue that Drustina had called together the other Celtic princes to organise the first travelling circus of circuit judges to arbitrate in disputes. From this beginning the Celtic laws became codified through the independent travelling judges and a fairly universal set of laws arose in Wales.
More importantly, Celts did not have to travel hundreds of miles on foot just to attend Drustina’s court. The judges circuited the newly developing towns on a quarterly basis every three months. Only serious disputes were handled by Drustina between princes or where the issue affected many people. After accompanying his wife to these hearings, Carl created something similar in his fiefdom and that was soon copied to become Saxon law that eventually became English law.
~o00o~
As she reflected upon those issues that day in the Garden, she felt that Harald was preoccupied with another issue, namely his son. The Norse king was wishing to leave for his kingdom but he was loath to leave without his son. Drustina had sensed this as well and she too was loath to abandon her children at such a tender age. As both of them stared across to the Welsh hills, the Viking broached the subject.
“Am I to have my son to raised as my prince and rule after my passing?”
Drustina turned to him knowing how hard it was for either parent to be separated from their children. She explained tactfully yet leaving the man with hope.
“Not yet. He is too young.”
The truth was that Drustina could not trust the Viking king to return the boy if she sent him to Norway for occasional visits. She remembered the old adage that the priests of Polanda had told her. ‘Give us the child, you can have the man!’
As she paused for thought Harald pressed harder.
“What age then?”
“How about when he is old enough to wield a sword?”
“But that would be – what; nine summers from now possibly ten! He will be a Saxon or a Celt by the time I get him!”
“What d’you mean ‘get him’? He’s not yours’ to own Viking. He is your son, not a horse or a sword.
“But if you raise him he’ll grow up to be a ...”
“Cultured, educated warrior!” Drustina finished Harald’s sentence for him.
It was Harald’s turn to frown as he riposted weakly.
“I was going to say Celt or Saxon.”
Drustina snorted with amusement.
“He’s half Celt anyway Viking. He has my blood as well as yours.”
After another thoughtful silence Harald tried another tack, ‘compassion’.
“So I am not to see my son for ten years. Who will teach him Viking ways, Norse tongue, who will tell him the Sagas?”
Gisela stepped forward and alerted her father.
“Ahem! Hello-oo, father; am I not a Norsewoman? Who better to teach a child all the Viking ways than his own sister? Do I not know all the customs, all the Viking sagas? Is my language not your language? My brother will grow as a child with his mother and his sister to teach him. And as for the sword who better than The Lioness of Carthage, not to mention her Saxon Spouse. If he stays here with me, he will learn of Viking ways well enough from me. I have also fought and won scars from battle.
Harald cursed as his argument was so easily countered.
“So I am not to see my son, to watch him grow, to take him hunting great white bears.”
“You never took me!” Gisela scolded him.
“You’re a gir...” he stopped as he caught Drustina’s penetrating stare, “girl.” He finished lamely then added, “you only hunt wolves, deer and boar in Britannia. There are no white bears in your land.”
“So hunting a bear is the measure of manhood is it?”
“Yes.”
“At aged – what; six, seven, ten, twenty? Not three, I’ll wager!”
“Well no.” Harald conceded. “Fifteen at least. White bears are very dangerous!”
“Right then, my son will come to your court at aged fifteen and he WILL be trained with weapons, all weapons as well as the Viking broadsword!”
“So I do not see him for twelve years!” Harald protested.
“If the only reason is to hunt bears then no – you won’t! If you want the boy because you love him as a father should then it’s nine years from now as I said earlier. You can come and visit him here at any time. Indeed; I would want you to come and see him.”
Harald’s eyes widened in mild surprise at the open invite.
“You mean I am free to visit ... anytime.”
“Of course. I hope to see trade between our countries, not war. You have Iron we have corn, you have fish and timber; we have cattle and wool. I would be pleased for you to visit your son every summer. He needs to know his father.”
“What of the Saxon; your husband? Would he harm the child?”
Drustina bristled more at the presumptuous stupidity of Cold-blood’s question rather than the Viking’s fatherly jealousy.
“Damn it Viking. Do you think I would marry a brute who would hurt my child? If you do then you underestimate me and my Saxon husband. He can teach him hunting, weapons, reading and writing just as I will also teach him all that plus a mother’s love. So now we come to the other major issue, what of your daughter ... our daughter?”
Harald fell silent. He had not once considered his daughter so pre-occupied he had been with his son. He realised that Drustina was bristling again with discontent and his silence told Drustina all she wanted to know so she took the bull by the horns and laid down her law.
My daughter will not be wedded off like some brood mare to the highest bidder or some political ambition. She chooses if or when or who she is to wed.
“You mean like Gisela?” Harald riposted. "Free to indulge a Sapphic bride!"
Even as Gisela drew breath to swear at her father Drustina nipped any further argument in the bud.
"The princess, your daughter, is old enough to make her own decisions and choices and she does! On the day she achieves her majority, she ceases to be my ward."
“What of my rights as a father?”
“Dammit again Viking, you forsook those rights when you banned her for her sapphism and sent her into exile from your court and sentenced her to a presumed early death in battle. You know how we found her don’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied in a small, tight voice.
“So the girl chooses to stay with us until she is ready to make her own way and that I’m thinking will be soon. Am I right princess?”
“Yes Lioness!”
Gisela nodded vigorously then added to Drustina’s surprise.
“I have already been offered a post in Ethelred’s court Lioness.”
Drustina’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Oh, do tell girl, I am intrigued and pleased.”
Gisela slumped slightly, more with relief than pleasure. She had been anticipating an angry Lioness.
“Oh, thank the gods. I was nervous about your response.”
Drustina’s grin widened further.
“If you have a position in Ethelred’s court then I am pleased for you. It saves my purse as well. May I ask what this post is?”
“Promise me you won’t be annoyed.”
“Now you worry me girl, do not keep me in suspense.”
“Ethelred wants me to be his ambassador to my father’s court in Norway.”
“Ha!! Ha-ha! Oh that is sweet! The wheel turns full circle then! You return to your homeland with Ethelred’s ambassadorial protection. Have you accepted the post?”
“I must speak with my father; he has to receive my letters from Ethelred.”
Drustina turned to Harald.
“So Viking. Will you accept Ethelred’s ambassadress?”
Harald was as surprised as Drustina but he smiled as he shook his head in sheer amazement. Drustina stepped in on Gisela’s behalf.
“I can assure you, for all her youth, the girl is smart and brave and discreet. She has served me well with sword and pen and wit!”
“You don’t have to tell me how clever or brave she is Lioness. She is after all my daughter!”
“Oh! Of course; stupid of me, sorry!”
Harald’s head jerked back in mild surprise.
“By the gods woman. You just apologised to me.”
Drustina grinned; she was getting to like the Viking king as he mellowed into fatherhood. She could never love him as she did Carl but the man was proving to have a human side. She replied.
“Then just remember; King of the Vikings you may be, but none of us are too high and mighty but to apologise when we are at fault.
Harald wagged his head in admiration as they returned to the castle.
~o00o~
They entered the castle to find one of Carl’s heralds in earnest conversation with the Saxon. Drustina paused and tugged Harald’s arm to keep out of earshot.
“The herald looks concerned, let Carl deal with it first. If he wants us to be involved he’ll call us.”
Harald agreed and turned to carry their son into his antechamber while Gisela followed with the sister twin. As Drustina turned from watching them Carl called across the hall.
“Dru, I’ve got some news, if it’s true you’ll be a very happy woman.”
“Go on,” she replied.
“Did I hear you say you once had two brothers?”
“Yes, why?”
“What happened to them?”
“Oh hell, they died fighting Vikings long ago. My younger brother Feorin died when they attacked our settlement, my older brother Morgaran was killed somewhere on the Celtic sea probably in a battle with a Viking longship that was years ago, what brought this up.”
“My herald here has just come back from Preston they were liberating slaves and one of them claims to be your older brother.”
Drustina’s heart flipped as she swallowed with hope.
“Morgaran? Alive!”
The man claims he is he.
“Where is he? I must see him!”
“They are travelling here to Chester, on foot. My Herald uses the post horses.”
Drustina turned to the Herald.
“How many days before they’re here.”
The Herald wrinkled his brow.
“It’s hard to say your majesty. The column is added to every day by more liberated slaves. Some of them are sick and infirm. Progress is very slow.”
“Damn! I must see the man; see if it is really him. Have Seripatese saddled, now!”
Carl called as she strode towards the door.
“Drustina wait! There’s an important dinner tonight! Ethelred and Edrinor are leaving tomorrow for their respective capitals.
This is the last night they are together here in Chester. It’s the farewell supper!”
“Bugger the farewell supper, I need to see if my brother is really alive! Are you coming with me Gisela?”
Carl cursed and turned to Harald.
“What can you do with her?”
The Viking king shrugged apologetically.
“Don’t ask me, if her brother was a slave to a Viking then she won’t be pleased to have anything to do with me.”
Carl cursed and sent messages to Ethelred and Edrinor to say the Lioness would not be at the supper. As they discussed the implications Ethelred appeared.
“Why won’t she be coming?” He asked.
Carl explained the situation and the Saxon King wagged his head.
“She never was one to stand on ceremony. Where is she now, perhaps I can persuade her to stay, command her even!”
Cold-blood wagged his head.
“You’ll not command her against her will Saxon.”
“I’ll bloody well try!” Ethelred replied as he turned to visit Drustina’s chambers.
Suddenly all the men heard a commotion in the courtyard then the clatter of hooves on cobbles. Carl rushed to the window overlooking the courtyard only to see Drustina and Gisela trotting through the main gate heading through the city towards the Northgate.
“Dammit, she’s dressed for campaigning! I didn’t expect her to get ready so quickly.
“It’s what she does best!” Harald observed.
“Aye, your right enough,” Ethelred agreed, “but she’s taken my Norse ambassadress with her!”
“You’ll not catch them now. They’re travelling light and fast!” Carl observed as he turned to his herald. “Take a fresh horse and follow her, you at least know the road!”
“I’ve been on the road since Dawn sire! I’ll despatch a fresh herald who knows the way.”
“Very well man. Do what you have to. Just see she takes the shortest road.”
Carl fretted until he heard the clatter of fresh hooves then he turned towards the two kings.
“I’d never be able to dissuade her from her intentions but at least if somebody can show her the Preston Road, she will complete her mission that much faster.”
That evening as Drustina and Gisela prepared to sleep under the stars, the Herald who was sent to guide her passed her as he wrongly presumed the Lioness and her royal protégé would choose an inn. It was not until the following morning before he finally rendezvoused with Drustina who had not been expecting him. When he approached her on the road his blood curdled when she flashed out her sword and challenged him.
“Who are you? Why have you followed us?”
He swallowed fearfully as the sword pricked his tunic buttons.
“Dammit Lioness I am Carl the Saxon’s herald, he sent me to guide you along the Preston road. Vikings roads are not as well marked as our roads and once you cross the Mersea you will realise that.”
“I can ask the way.” She replied with her sword still pricking the herald’s chest.
“And risk being attacked.” He cautioned her. “Many people in that realm are Viking and none of the other original tribes will recognise your Celtic accent or your Saxon tongue. There is much suspicion and lawlessness; it is dangerous for a woman to travel alone ... sorry I mean to travel without clear identity. The local tribes know now that Carl is their liege lord but they know nothing of you personally.”
As he spoke he unbuttoned his riding coat to reveal a tabard in Carls colours and explained further.
“They recognise my herald’s tabard so I can at least inform them as we meet on the road. Otherwise, if they see two women alone they might think ‘easy pickings’.”
“If they do, they’ll learn soon enough we are not.”
“But still they will have tried and there will be blood spilled. At least with me by your side you have identity and official status. People will recognise that and respect these colours I wear. Carl’s victory is a popular one.”
Drustina’s jaw clenched angrily as she corrected him.
“It was my victory herald and don’t you forget that. Cold-blood surrendered to me not Ethelred or Edrinor or Carl or Dorvan or Udris; he surrendered to me!”
The man swallowed as he realised the enormity of his error. He had been seeing the victory as a Saxon victory and because Carl was his liege lord, he had unthinkingly associated the Saxon victory with his Saxon boss. The Lioness was absolutely right and everybody knew it; it was her victory.
He apologised and Drustina withdrew her sword from his chest.
"Good we’ve got that established. No harm done so lead on herald. Show us the road to Preston."
~oo000oo~
That next night they stayed at an Inn that was crowded with travellers returning to their homelands and families as the country sorted itself out from the Chaos of wars and campaigns.
Despite her high status, Drustina was magnanimous enough to help the inn-keeper’s dilemma by offering to share her bed with her travelling companion Gisela.
During the night she woke to find Gisela sobbing softly. Drustina reached over and the young princess tensed nervously.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m Sapphic. “
Drustina squeezed the girl’s shoulder gently.
“I know that princess but why do you cry, what makes you sad?”
“I cannot ... no – I do not want to marry.”
“Go on.”
“If I do not marry, I cannot have a child ... children.”
Drustina paused silently then spoke slowly.
“You have your cycles do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then what stops you from having a child?”
“Who would care for it, who would be its father? If I am unmarried and have a child it will be a pariah, a bastard child. Other women will shun me.”
“A bastard child, you mean like your brother?”
“No-oo!” Gisela almost snarled. He is my father’s son, he is a prince; he cannot be a bastard!”
“But he is also my son and I am not married to your father so that would make him a bastard by your own rule.”
Gisela fell silent again. She had realised that the rule she had been applying to herself should also be applied to others. Because she was Sapphic and deemed a lesser person by some, she had thus believed herself to be a lesser being with fewer rights. Her own feelings of guilt had caused her to punish herself by applying harder standards to herself.
‘Drustina was right. If she Gisela had an ‘illegitimate’ child it was no more or less a child than Drustina’s children.’
She sat up as the realisation hit her hard.
“I can can’t I ... You have!”
“Have children you mean?” Drustina ascertained.
“Yes! Why should I be counted a lesser woman?”
“I don’t count you a lesser woman, and I’m sure that every man in that battle who saw you risking your life at every turn would not count you a lesser woman!”
“No – but the women at home did; they condemned me for my sapphism.”
“You have moved beyond the ‘women at home’ girl,” (Drustina almost spat the words,) “you have become your own woman. You are an ambassadress to Ethelred the King of all Wessex and when Edrinor dies, he will be the superior king of the Angles, Mercians and Saxons. His brother in law is the future king of Mercia. You have by your own endeavours risen to the king’s personal high table; if Ethelred despatches you as his ambassadress, you will be the king’s representative and a free-woman in your own right.”
“But what if I become with child?”
“That would take a man’s part.”
“Or yours.” Gisela croaked silently.
Drustina fell into a thoughtful silence and Gisela wondered if she had caused offence.
“Are you angry?”
“No-oo ... I’m not angry, but you realise your child would be a sibling to the future king of Norway and also his niece or nephew.”
“But there is no inbreeding, there is no intermixed blood!”
“Of course not, but what of my husband Carl? Might he not have some say? Some would say he was being cuckolded if I fathered a child whilst married to him. I would have to speak with him first!”
“So we cannot do it here, now, tonight?”
“Sadly no, besides you have only just reached your sixteenth summer.”
Gisela sniffed.
“Huh, most of the girls at the palace including my sisters, were all married and with child by fifteen!”
Drustina took Gisela’s jaw and gently turned her head to stare deeply into her eyes.
“You are not like other girls Gisela. You are special, your experiences and troubles have made you special and your Sapphism makes you special. Having my child will make you extra special but it will also invite censure and condemnation from this new one-god faith. Are you prepared to bear that abuse?”
“My father claims your son ... his son as his heir. If this new church dares to condemn me, they will be de-facto censuring him. He won’t tolerate that in Norway!”
“Good point girl, you see, you have a good head for arguing. Now go to sleep. If you are to have my child, I will discuss it first with my Saxon.”
“Does he have to know?”
“Yes. We have been through too much together to start breaking our trust now. He is mine, I am his; we have no secrets between us.”
Gisela spooned gratefully into Drustina and sighed.
“I hope he’ll agree. I wish I could find a partner as loyal as you.”
They slept until Dawn.
~o000o~
Author's note
*Demetae is Pembroke in Wales nowadays.
Copyright to Beverly Taff.
As she dashes off hoping to locate her brother, Drustina runs up against disturbing development in the ancient borough of Preston.
The Angry Mermaid 129
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 129
Unusually, Drustina and Gisela slept until after dawn when the general hullabaloo in the courtyard of the inn disturbed them. They dressed and went down for breakfast where they found that the Herald had reserved food for them.
“Thank you,” Drustina offered before he organised their horses.
They were back on the road again by the mid morning and they arrived at a modest town called Wygan in the early afternoon. The town was crowded with hordes of desperate people all frantically trying to achieve their own personal ends and the trio had a hard time threading their horses through the press of desperation.
Drustina sniffed possessively as she recognised many Celtic names around the town. Some people even spoke a northern version of her own tongue and she finally recognised it as the Brigante dialect. When she and Gisela finally arrived at the Moot Hall they found a crowd gathered around its entrance as people called out their names and several scribes were frantically writing them down. Drustina dismounted and had the Herald clear a path for her into the hall. There were a few grumbles about ‘people pushing ahead of the line’ but when Drustina’s identity was revealed a deferential mood settled upon the crowd. Drustina approached what seemed to be the man in charge.
The harassed man turned exhaustedly to the Lioness and sagged with relief.
“So you are the Lioness of Carthage the Herald tells me!”
“Yes; what’s going on here? You are the Townsman I presume.”
“Yes. It has been chaotic since the Vikings were defeated. All civic function has broken down as slaves and peasants seek to redeem their lost lands or titles and freedoms. Our small town has been overwhelmed.”
“So what are you doing with all these names?”
“I’m trying to help organise a search system. People can come here, declare their names and their intentions then I have my pair of scribes add them to the lists and go through the lists to see if the person or persons they seek are on the list. It is tedious work.”
Drustina could readily see and sense the desperation in the crowd for it was obvious the man was short of scribes. Being as she and Gisela and the Herald were literate she offered to help.
“I am seeking my brother Morgaran. Let me read through your lists and I will lend you my companions to help do searches.”
The man took a deep breath of gratitude.
“Thank you your – your ... how do I address you?”
“Lioness will do. It identifies me without standing on formal ceremony. I am not here in any official capacity.”
“But you are my liege lady. As the civic official I must show respect.”
Drustina smiled.
“I think I and my companions would prefer a decent drink and some food more than a show of bowing and scraping. What food have you got?”
“Not a lot, the town’s larders and granary are almost empty. Thousands have passed through since your husband’s victory.”
Drustina was about to scold the man for assuming Carl had won the battle but she bit her tongue. The man was doing a reasonable job under very difficult circumstances and it would be counter-productive to criticize him for a very minor transgression. Instead she had a bench and table added to the operation and the three of them pitched in to help as the townsman organised some beer and bread and fruit. He had no meat.
Drustina naturally took the list of M’s for her brother’s name was Morgaran but she was disappointed to have no luck. By early evening, the gathered crowd had been whittled down to a score of people who had additional requests for justice but the Townsman simply refused to deal with them. He had neither the authority or resources to hold court sessions during the turmoil of the diaspora. He approached Drustina and begged her.
“Can you sit in judgement on these cases I beseech you? They have been pestering me for days! I am simply a Townsman and this is far above my office.”
Drustina sighed and called the herald.
“We’ll hold a quarter session here and now. At least we have the scribes enough to get this done quickly.”
The benches were cleared of the lists and rearranged to deal with the issues quickly. Drustina was holding the first case within minutes. Most cases involved the violent theft of land and the majority of them were easily settled because Drustina had de-facto authority as the consort of Carl the liege lord. As she handed out decisions the Townsman smiled respectfully; it was obvious the new lord was a fair-minded ruler and his consort showed equal sagacity. As the last but one appellant stepped up he spoke fearfully.
“I am affeared to press my case your majesty.”
“I am not your majesty my fellow. Call me Lioness, now what is your appeal?”
“My land Lioness. It was not taken by a jarl; it was confiscated by the holy men.”
“Holy men! What d’you mean holy men? Why would they confiscate land?”
“Well not exactly confiscate but inherited.”
Drustina’s brow wrinkled with puzzlement.
“Inherited; how?”
“When the Vikings invaded our land about ten years ago, they stole our family estates and killed my family. I think I am the only one left.”
Drustina nodded, it would have been somewhere about the time her own lands were stolen and her family destroyed. She nodded thoughtfully:
“Go on.”
“Well the Viking Jarl who drove us off our lands converted to Christianity about a year ago. A new Bishop arrived in these parts to convert Vikings to the new faith.”
Drustina breathed in deeply as her suspicions took root.
“Was this Bishop sent by the Saxons?”
“I don’t know. His name is Bishop Caline.”
Drustina did not know of a Bishop Caline but encouraged the man to continue.
“So what did this bishop do, how did his church confiscate your land?
“The Jarl converted to Christianity then later declared he was going to fight against the Saxons and the Mercians on the Side of King Harald.”
“Go on, I still don’t follow.”
“Well Bishop Caline knew that ‘The Lioness of Carthage’ was fighting on the Saxon side and that the Lioness was a heathen, a sworn enemy of the church.”
“I did and I am.” Drustina advised him.
The man swallowed then recovered his composure.
“That’s what I was told; you are an enemy of the church.”
“Not wholly true. I am an enemy of those that try to hurt me. If members of this new faith try to hurt me, they receive short thrift. Anyway, enough of that; how did the church come to confiscate your lands?”
“The Jarl had not married or produced an heir when he joined King Harald Cold-blood’s army.”
“Go on; I still don’t follow.”
“The bishop persuaded him to write a will.”
The penny dropped in Drustina’s brain.
“Ah! I see; and the beneficiary of the will was ...”
“The one God.”
Drustina let out a snort of disgusted derision.”
“Oooh yes; it all makes sense now, and I suppose this Jarl was promised untold wealth and happiness in the afterlife.”
The man nodded as he continued.
“The Bishop gave the Jarl an indulgence. Give the land to God in the event of his death and God would grant him eternal happiness in heaven.”
Drustina nodded sagely.
“And inevitably the Jarl died on the battlefield. So either way, he’d go to Valhalla or Heaven.”
The man nodded as he wrung his cap in his hands and replied “Yes.”
“So of course, the church inherited his estates in the name of God.”
The plaintiff croaked nervously. “Yes.”
“And naturally this Bishop Caline administers the estates on behalf of his own god.”
The plaintiff’s pitch rose with frustration.
“Yes! My lands were stolen and now the Bishop and his church live off the fat of that land.”
Drustina steepled her fingers and pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“Where are these lands?”
“At Preston Lioness; on the south bank of the River Ribel.”
“And I suppose, not surprisingly, the Bishop’s church is in Preston.”
“Yes my lady.”
Drustina made a note in the record book and explained to the man.
“Give your evidence to the court scribes and I will take this matter up when I get to Preston. I am looking for my brother
Morgaran and I am told he is on the road between here and Preston.”
“Would that be Morgaran the Eunuch? He was a Celt.”
“Eunuch?” Drustina almost screeched. “Tell me more! What do you know?”
“When the Jarl took my lands, he had several prisoners that he had captured in a sea battle at the entrance to the River Ribel.
The prisoners were his slaves and he had them un-manned by the healers in Preston. He sold the others on to his colleagues but kept Morgaran the Celt because he could read and write Latin plus he could use some clever tricks with new numbers.”
“The bastard!” Drustina cursed the dead Jarl. “Glad am I that this Jarl met his death at the hands of our forces. Do you know now where this Morgaran the Celt is?”
“When the Jarl was killed, the Celt declared that he was going south but I did not hear him tell why. There was some rumour he was related to you but few believed him.”
“Describe him.” Drustina demanded.
“He had yellow hair; darker than yours but fairer than most Saxons. He was quite tall and had a large scar on his arm, blue eyes. That’s all I can tell.”
Drustina put the bits of the jigsaw together and concluded that Morgaran the Celt was almost certainly her brother. She stood and spoke to the assembled court.
“I am leaving for Preston immediately. The last cases will be heard by my deputy, Princess Gisela, daughter of Harald Cold-blood.”
A gasp went around the court as people whispered to each other. Confusion started to spread as different rumours began to contradict each other. Drustina called the court to order.
“Before any of you get off on the wrong foot, let me enlighten you. The Princess Gisela was no friend of her father up until his defeat at the Battle of Brunbah. Some years ago she was banished from his kingdom and condemned to a violent death in any subsequent battle where she had been conscripted to fight on her father’s behalf. I saved the girl’s life after a sea battle off the Godwin Sandbanks and she has been my student since that day. The princess is as immersed as I am in the principles of justice and law; that is, my principles of justice.”
As she rose to leave she turned to Gisela and advised her in front of the townsman and the scribes.
“Remember Princess, treat kindly and fairly with each plaintiff and remember the injustices done to you. Each and every one of us knows the hurt of such injustices so remember, those who plead before you are entitled to honest redress. Catch me up on the road.”
She then turned to the plaintiff who’d lost his estate to the church.
“You must follow me to Preston with your case writ down in letters because I will be arguing against the ecclesiastical court.
Get your case recorded by the scribes then guide the Princess Gisela on the Preston road. Look for me via the Preston guild hall. I’m told it serves as their administration house."
With no more ceremony she left the hall, mounted her beloved Seripatese and turned to the herald.
“Be my guide these last miles and, let us ride as though the dragons of Hades are on our tail.
As the summer dusk drew down, Drustina did not stop. The Herald knew the road and at midsummer, there was twilight enough all night to follow the road at a very slow trot. They stopped only to drink some water from a spring and arrived in Preston as people were stirring. She handed her beloved Seripatese to the herald and walked across the market square as stall-holders were just setting up their stalls. The square was so busy that nobody took much notice of a travel worn visitor as she approached the guild hall. Her knock eventually attracted an answer as a young apprentice answered from the inside.
“Who is it?” He asked.
“The Lioness of Carthage.”
There was a snort of disbelief as the young lad obviously thought somebody was playing yet another trick on him.
“Yeah like the long weight thing.”
Drustina couldn’t help but smile so she spoke softly. There was no need to take umbrage she was not being delayed.
“Listen lad. If you don’t open this bloody door, you’ll get a long sword up your arse followed by another long weight in the infirmary.”
As she spoke she unbuttoned her long riding coat and allowed the single eye peeping through the spy-hole a glimpse of her jerkin with its battle colours. There followed a curse as the boy recognised the high craftsmanship of the jerkin and then a series of door bolts rattled free.
“Sorry your majesty, I ... I.”
“Don’t worry lad where’s the senior guild-master?”
The lad pointed towards a corridor as he spoke.
“He’s down there; the red door on your right”
“Take me to him. It doesn’t do for a single woman to be seen alone in a guild hall.”
Her confidence and bearing quickly persuaded the lad to do her bidding and he knocked on the guild-master’s door. An irritated voice replied.
“What is it, I am not yet risen?”
“There is royalty at your door master!”
There was a muffled curse followed by more bolts being loosened and eventually the door opened. A watery-eyed septuagenarian peered out.
“Who are you?”
“The Lioness of Carthage!” Drustina replied with equal testiness.
The old man harrumphed and hurriedly freed the dog-chain to open the door all the way. He apologised for his state of dress but Drustina quickly calmed him.
“I’m not here to discuss fashions; I wish to find the Bishop Caline.”
“Oh him. Bloody parasite!”
“Go on,” Drustina encouraged. “Why parasite?”
The senior master realised he might have revealed too much in his irritation and he tried to back-track.
“Well, I, uuuuhhm. Well, he seems to have done rather well out of the Saxon victory and he is a Saxon.”
“How so? How has he prospered?”
“Selling indulgences to converted Vikings and inheriting their lands when they failed to return from the war.”
“And these Viking lands. How came the Vikings by them originally.”
“Victory in battles. Defeated Brigante and Saxon landowners had to forfeit their lands to these Viking invaders. Then this Bishop turns up out of nowhere and starts converting Vikings. He’s very persuasive.”
“Is he; hell-fire and damnation I suppose.”
“And eternal flames. The last bishop became infirm and died during the Viking invasions. This man turned up a couple of years ago and now he’s the richest land-owner in the Palatine of Lancashire.”
“But he cannot own land. These one-god holy men are supposed to foreswear possessions. Their holy man died a pauper.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I should do, I have travelled extensively in those lands and read his books.”
“Oh! You have letters then!”
“Yes. Roman, Greek, Cyrillic and Runes, not to mention hieroglyphics; don’t seem so surprised, I also have languages to suit.”
“Oh then you are truly a wordsmith.”
Drustina became impatient with the man’s attempted flattery.
Listen, enough small talk. The bishop, where can I find him?”
“Oh sorry. This week he is collecting tithes.”
“Tithes? What are they?”
“Taxes the tenants must pay to the lord God for providing a good harvest and their subsequent salvation in the afterlife.”
“Taxes?" Drustina almost choked on her own screech. "Only the liege overlord can collect taxes and even those are in the name of the king. My Husband Carl collects them in the Name of Ethelred.”
“No. These are new ecclesiastical taxes in the name of God!”
Drustina’s jaw sagged. It was enough that the Bishop Caline was charging rent but collecting taxes in the name of God added insult to injury. ‘Tithes indeed.’ She mused. ‘We’ll soon sort that out.’
She turned towards the door as she asked. “So where does he go to collect these so-called taxes ... these tithes.”
“There is a new building being erected next to the church. It stands on the bank of the river. You cannot miss it. Many tenants have no coin for there is a shortage of coinage. The pay with produce, corn, meat, salt and even fruit.”
“What use is fruit? It goes rotten after a few weeks or even days!”
“The bishop’s rules my lady, not ours.”
“Where is the local townsman?”
“He’s probably helping the bishop my lady. When you step outside turn right and follow the dusty road towards the river. Most of the cart traffic in the town is heading for the new tithe building.”
Drustina flashed angrily at the seeming lack of concern by the old master.
“Never mind my stepping outside. You’ll be coming with me. Go on, get dressed. We'll use your carriage it'll tell people who you are.”
The old man squinted uncertainly.
“I am in my night gown my lady. I must change for day wear.”
“Well go on then. Listen man you’ve got nothing I have not seen before. I have fought on battles you old fool and nursed men naked in their wounds. Not to mention being married to Carl the Saxon, your overlord. Get dressed!”
The man grumbled but Drustina showed him the dignity of turning away to open the shutter and look through the window. She noted the old man was perfectly correct. Cart followed cart up the road and all were loaded with some sort of produce. She cursed as she observed the congestion and vast supplies of food.
“I’m bloody surprised that the people stand for this. In Wygan the Townsman is at his wits end trying to find food enough for the diaspora that has overtaken his town! Here there must be food enough to feed an army!”
Finally the old guild-master was ready and the pair set out in his personal carriage firstly to the original guild hall which had recently been fortified and castellated. The Herald followed closely with Seripatese in tow. The old Guild-hall had become the Viking Jarl’s personal residence where most official and commercial business was conducted in Preston. It was a very rare building insofar as it was stone construction and even predated the early Saxon church that had been ransacked by the invading Vikings looking for gold and jewels. The original guildhall being stone, had also been searched but not ransacked, the invading jarl had recognised its usefulness as his own administration building and ordered it left intact even though they stripped it of what meagre treasure there was. The old hall still stood and the Herald had entered it to find the townsman. Drustina spoke with him.
“I don’t think you’ll find anybody here, it seems they’re all at this new Tithe barn thing down by the river. It seems our Bishop Caline is something of a bold entrepreneur.”
The herald nodded thoughtfully.
“I wondered why the townsman was not here to meet his liege lord’s official messenger. He wasn’t expecting you Lioness but he was certainly expecting me.”
“Come on – oh wait a moment is that not the Princess Gisela and the man who’s lands were taken by the Vikings then the Bishop.”
The Herald agreed so they waited for Gisela and the farmer to arrive, hot and dusty after their urgent ride.
“You made good time then Princess.
“We started out at the crack of dawn, my riding companion knows the road well, and he used to sell his goods both in Wygan and Preston.”
Drustina nodded and the five of them made their way slowly through the jam of carts to the tithe barn.
The commotion of their arrival was almost lost in the crush of crowded carts as farmers and carters cursed the traffic jam.
Drustina gaped in disbelief.
“There must be two hundred carts here all waiting to unload!”
“Plus the ships at that quay, they’re loading grain,” Gisela observed.
Drustina nodded as her jaws clenched. ‘There was a lot of activity going on, a lot of trade; a lot of money! 'Who’s money?’ Drustina wondered.
She had disembarked from the guild-masters carriage and now re-mounted her beloved Seripatese as they sidled down to the quay and spoke to a scribe who was tallying the bags of grain.
“Where’s this ship bound?” She asked conversationally.
“Why d’you ask?”
“Just curiosity,” Drustina replied disarmingly.
“Well it’s no business of yours woman. If you’ve got questions speak to the man in the church.”
“Oh.” Drustina responded like an affronted woman.
The scribe sneered at a mere woman and nodded dismissively.
“This is a dangerous place woman. The bags are heavy and the activity is risky. You’d better leave.”
All submission and apology, she edged Seripatese backwards and turned to leave but not before she saw the scribe nod towards one of the labourers who slipped away through the bustling chaos towards the church. By the time Drustina and her party had eased their horses courteously through the crowds to arrive at the church doors, the holy-man was there to meet her. On the quay and at the church, nobody had known her identity under her riding cloak so the Bishop Caline was shocked when he recognised her.
“Your majesty! Lioness!! You should have advised us of your coming!”
Drustina let the misplaced title ride. The Bishop had obviously panicked when he recognised her and initially used the wrong form of address. Her reason for letting it ride however was quite deliberate because by addressing her as ‘Her majesty’, the Bishop had inadvertently elevated her far above him in the sight of the many sufferers on the crowded quayside. None more than in the eyes of the scribing tally man who suddenly realised what a ghastly blunder he had committed.
‘My God!’ He wondered as his belly sagged with fear. ‘What is this woman, this queen? Doing here?’
Drustina adopted the mantle the Bishop had mistakenly bestowed and she demanded answers accordingly.
“What, so you could hide this business? What transacts here Bishop Celyn?”
She had to admire the Bishop; he had his answers off pat.
“It is trade my lady. We are exporting grain to Norway and Scotland.”
“Are we?” Drustina riposted, using the possessive ‘we’ to establish legitimate title to the trades. She then added. “Are you aware that the Townsman of Wygan is desperate for provisions to feed the scattered victims of the diaspora that follows the Battle of Brunbah? He is at his wit’s ends trying to feed people who seek only to return to their homelands.”
“Some food has been sent my lady.”
Drustina answered loudly for all around to hear.
“Has it? When? The people of Preston are overwhelmed and short of food. I and my companions have travelled the road between Preston and Wigan and we have seen neither hide nor hair of a wagon going south. The royal heralds tell me they have not seen one and they travel the road every two days. The townsman in Wygan certainly hasn’t received any! So tell me pray, when and where was this food you claim in the name of God, despatched?”
Bishop Celyn fell silent but Drustina sensed a murmur of dissent ripple around the gathering crowd. She knew she had the angry farmers on her side but she had no warriors and there was no knowing to what end a man like Bishop Celyn might stretch to cover his tracks. The demeanour of the scribe and his truculence had alerted her to some sort of danger. She twisted in her saddle and cast her gaze around ostensibly to measure the degree of discontent amongst the crowd but her more experienced eye had already noticed some strategically placed henchmen who were covering all the obvious exits from the quay and the church square. She kept looking around as though seeking to rally the crowd to rise up against the Bishop but in reality she was checking every avenue, every detail and all opportunities. Eventually she spotted a weakness in the Bishop’s arrangements.
The crooked bishop, being a ‘land-lubber’ had seen only to cover the exits via the roads that led to and from the quay. The access to the ship loading the grain was unobstructed from where Drustina sat high on her horse. She motioned to Gisela, the King’s
herald and the cheated farmer to come closer. They edged forward as Drustina whispered.
“He has anticipated this day, it had to come anyway; he was bound to be found out one day. Look about you; the two streets leading into the square are all ready guarded by his henchmen. Whatever we do, he intends to block access or egress via the two streets while he escapes. He would not stay here if he attacks us for we are the king’s own representative. His punishment would be swift but men would die here now if we act precipitately. He must have an escape route and I believe it is that ship. The moment we show any signs of arresting him I think he plans to somehow attack us and possibly even kill us. Then he escapes by ship to wherever he can find acceptance. We must create some sort of diversion to panic him into revealing his plans. We four shall move first towards the ship, if we block his avenue of escape he’s bound to reveal his hand.”
Drustina explained a few crucial elements like the state of the wind and tide being favourable to her plan to steal the craft moored closest to the open sea.
The Farmer and the herald readily understood the situation while Gisela had already sided her horse a few metres towards the quay and the ship furthest down-stream. Gisela noted ironically that it was the ship with the finest lines and obviously moored to serve Bishop Celyn’s interests; namely a swift escape. Drustina noted the princess’s astute move and nodded approvingly. To cause a distraction she instructed the old guild-master to return to the guildhall and this missive caused the press of people to have to step aside as the old man set forth with his carriage against the flow of carts.
As people started milling about Drustina and her companions pushed through the gap that Gisela’s horse had made and they quickly made their way to the fast ship. Before Celyn and his cronies realised what was afoot, the four companions had boarded the ship by the simple expedience of driving their horses over the ship’s rail. As three expert swords flashed free, the unprepared crew of four seamen were quickly overwhelmed while the farmer slipped some moorings and the Herald cut the remaining ropes. In moments the ebbing tide had taken the ship downstream as Drustina and Gisela set the sail with expert speed.
Before Celyn had recovered his wits, the ship was already a hundred yards downs stream and none of Celyn’s men had bow and arrows. They had anticipated some sort of street-fight with knives and swords. By the time his henchmen had located their bows, the ship was far down stream. Drustina had escaped to face another day.
This is the final chapter of Angry Mermaid. I could drag on by writing about Drustina and Carl's married life and children but that would be too much like a 'Happily ever after' fairy-tale.
Hope you liked it.
I'm going back to wrap up 'The Rescue' then I know not whither I go.
Bye for now.
Beverly.
The Angry Mermaid 130
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 130
As Drustina steered her stolen craft down the River Ribel Gisela kept checking astern for signs of pursuit. There appeared to be none and everybody felt relief. The Royal herald sat thoughtfully in the sheets while the farmer watched the banks sweeping by. Eventually the farmer turned to the Lioness.
“So what now?” How do we stop this renegade bishop?
“We return to Brunbah and recover my trusty ship The Angry Mermaid from her hiding place. Then we take both ships up to Wygan and deliver this grain to the Townsman there. People will be starving if he doesn’t get some sort of supplies to feed them. The herald can report to my Husband Carl in Chester. He can explain the situation and Carl can send a troop of soldiers to bring order to Preston. Then we’ll sort this mess out quickly.
“But the Bishop might have escaped by then. Will your husband act quickly on your say-so?” The farmer pressed.
All three nodded their heads in unison and the farmer realised he was in the company of a very powerful warrior queen.
Quickly they reached the open sea and set course southwards for the River Mersea. Drustina and Gisela stood watches and by the following morning the familiar landmarks came into view. Noon found them stopping by at Brunbah where the Herald disembarked and set off for Chester post haste with a hand written note from Drustina for Carl’s eyes and the Kings’ only, if he hadn’t yet gone south again to Winchester. No sooner had the herald disembarked when Drustina visited the local garrison commander and co-opted a competent crew to sail further up the rivers Mersea and Weaver to recover The Angry Mermaid from her hiding place. She was pleased when several of her old crew appeared including Hengis her long time first Mate.
“I will also want a man learned in the river channels up to Wygan.”
Her wishes were immediately attended to and they soon found her faithful ‘Mermaid’ little the worse for wear except for the accumulation of leaves, and general detritus blown in by wind and rain. Drustina sniffed emotionally as they set about cleaning her up and soon they were on route to Wygan with the two ships.
When both ships arrived at the settlement, the townsman was almost in tears with relief at the sudden and unexpected arrival of a ship-load of food. He stared with grateful surprise at the cargo.
“But there’s both meat and corn your ladyship! Thank you! Thank you! You have saved my town from disaster.”
“There’s more to come but it will take time to ship it from the granaries at Chester. This is just to tide you over. Have you any news from Preston?”
“Not much my lady; most of the traffic from the north seems to have dried up, but we’ve had a few people who’ve recently escaped from the town.”
‘Escaped?’She mused. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ She voiced her thoughts.
“Escaped? Is Preston under siege or something and what news of the Bishop Celyn?”
“He is still in control of the town. “ The townsman replied. “All the new arrivals are still confirming that.”
“He’s probably having to reorganise another fast vessel to make an escape with his booty.” She surmised. “I think I’ll take my Mermaid back to the River Ribel and possibly trap him up the river so he’ll have to choose another escape route.”
Having decided this, she left instructions for any troops sent from Chester to continue up to Preston and restore the King’s peace. Gisela was left to wait and inform Carl’s troop when it arrived post-haste from Chester. Kicking her heels was an activity that Drustina loathed but it would be folly to rush up the road to Preston undermanned and ill-prepared. It was far better to utilise the Angry Mermaid’s speed and cut off escape for the bishop by sea. She returned to The Angry Mermaid and set sail again.
On passing north past Brunbah again she was pleased to learn a military column was already bound for Wygan and Preston from Chester.
~o000o~
It was fully three days before the troop of Carl’s soldiers arrived in Wygan and Gisela was never more relieved. She had earlier despatched some local men to try and garner information about the situation in Preston and several of them had returned with varying reports; but all had one fact in common. Bishop Celyn was still there. Gisela seethed as the reports came in for it was obvious that the bishop was utilising what little time he had left to feather his nest to the maximum.
Knowing that the bishop almost certainly had his own spies cast far and wide, the Norse princess prepared carefully.
In the middle of the night Gisela despatched two platoons of soldiers to circle around Preston and close off any escape to the north and east. Finally she received word that Drustina had arrived in the estuary of the River Ribel. The Angry Mermaid and two other ships that had been attached to her command at Brunbah would block any escape to sea. Finally Gisela set off northwards on the direct road to Preston with the remainder of the troop. She was not surprised to encounter some resistance on the road but her superior numbers held sway until they had breached the Southern gate of Preston. Having entered the town, she sent a note to the Bishop demanding his surrender.
On reading Gisela’s note the Bishop laughed naively whilst thinking Drustina must have stayed in Brunbah or Chester. Consequently, he thought he still had time to consolidate his forces and keep Gisela’s modest force at bay.
The Bishop Celyn immediately panicked when he learned that the rumoured ships blocking the estuary turned out to be three Mermaid class vessels and his only alternative escape routes were firmly blocked. The roads north and east out of Preston led him only into the mountains of the Cumbrians or towards the Pennines into Mancunium or Yorvik. Both these cities were now held by Ethelred through his loyal captain, Carl the Viking. That of course was presuming he got passed Gisela’s pickets.
Amongst the Scots and Cumbrians his reputation as a thief already preceded him and he would be treated contemptuously by them if not detained and handed over to the Lioness.
Additionally, to travel such a difficult road would necessitate his travelling light. That meant converting his hoard into gold and there was insufficient gold in Preston. The Bishop would have to forego his stolen riches and he would thus have little to bribe his way to safety.
He now had only two viable options; surrender or die fighting. He cursed the Lioness as he debated his options. He concluded he had only one negotiating counter left in his locker and that was the multilingual scribe who had once professed to be a brother of the Lioness. ‘Though he was now a eunuch and brother to nobody.’ The Bishop called to one of his henchmen.
“Where is that Celtic scribe who once claimed kinship with the cursed Lioness witch?”
“Down at the granary doing as he was ordered – tallying the bags of grain and suchlike.”
“Is he still claiming to be kin?”
“Not since she came and left. I think he expected her to acknowledge him but she never once sought to find him.”
“Well bring him here anyway. If he is her brother, we might still be able to trade him for our freedom.”
The scribe was brought before the bishop and asked bluntly.
“You claimed to be a brother of the Sorceress who leads the Saxon Armies. Is it true?”
Morgaran was immediately suspicious. He already knew that several strange ships lay blocking any escape to the sea. From the descriptions, Morgaran believed them to be Mermaid type ships and quickly realised that the Bishop Celyn was contemplating a trade. His mutilated body for the bishop’s free pratique. The scribe picked his answer carefully.
“Yes, I did once make that claim. Now I’m not so sure; I thought she might have sought me out but she never once made any inquiries when she was here. Even if I saw her face, I would not know. They say she is both man and woman so she would be much changed from the young boy I left behind when we set forth to fight with the Norsemen.”
“Would she recognise you?”
“I have changed much. I was unmanned by the cursed Vikings after I was captured. My face is plumper but my muscles are wasted and soft. She might recognise me.”
“Can you rightfully claim to be her brother?”
“If she was truly the boy Drustan whom I left behind in my village, then yes, I can rightfully claim to be her brother; though how a boy can become a woman I know not!”
Bishop Celyn harrumphed irritably then declared.
“Well I can attest to her being a freak. She definitely has both male and female parts. I know her of old. If she was that boy then perhaps your old village healers got the baby’s condition wrong when it was born.”
“Possibly your grace, I know little of such things. When he was a boy he certainly built a remarkably fast and nimble craft. If I saw the craft I would recognise it, if it is the same vessel.”
The Bishop’s eyes lit up as he saw a possible way forward.
“The Bitch is certainly here in the estuary and she certainly has a strange craft under her command. If I sighted it I would know for I have seen her ship before and the others like it. I cannot leave yet however so I will have my lieutenants take you down to the north shore to look at the vessel.”
Without delay, Morgaran was tied to a saddle and led away on horseback along the north bank of the River Ribel. When he reached the estuary he immediately recognised the lines of the remarkable craft his younger brother had built. There was no doubt that the craft was the Angry Mermaid so it was a reasonable bet that the captain was his youngest sibling. He confirmed his beliefs to the Bishop’s henchmen who immediately took him back to town. There Morgaran confirmed his observations.
“Yes, the vessel is certainly the same one that my brother built.”
“Did you see the bitch aboard?”
Morgaran seethed at the bishop calling his brother/sister a bitch but he kept his counsel.
“It looked like a woman but she was too far away to identify; besides, I do not know what she has grown to look like. It’s many a year since I last saw my siblings. They were just children when I left.”
The lieutenant confirmed that it was a woman so the Bishop decided to play the hostage card. He declared his plan to his henchmen who were equally keen to make their escapes. He turned again to Morgaran.
“Tomorrow morning, at the high tide we will have the ebb behind us and we can approach her quickly so that she must make up her mind quickly. If she does not recognise you or acknowledge you or she refuses to make a trade then it’s your neck that will be forfeit. It’s her bothers’ life for our freedom. Take him away.”
Morgaran was led to the cell and locked up for the night.
Pre dawn found the Bishop pacing impatiently on the quay as last minute arrangements and adjustments were finalised and they waited for the tide to turn.
“Why so long sailor?” He demanded of the captain, who explained.
“I am waiting for the ebb to gather some momentum. Best we leave two hours after high water when the sun will be further round to the east and blinding the besiegers as they look up river. Also, the ebbing flow will carry us swiftly onto them. They will have little time to respond.”
“Are those other ships loaded as well?”
“Yes, all five of them. It will give you a chance to get amongst the Lioness’s ships before she can make out anything different.”
“Very well are there still only three besiegers?”
“Yes your grace. Our spies confirmed it less than an hour ago.”
“Very well. I will break my fast when you are ready to sail. Send a messenger when you think it is the right time to sail. This easterly wind will also help us so we will commandeer all the ships in the port and smash our way through if we have to.”
The bishop filled his belly while his lieutenants prepared then waited until the message came. When he arrived at the quay all the other ships were standing off in the river and he joined his own ship which then immediately cast off.
His plan was to approach with his faster ship behind the protective shield of other craft and hopefully smash his way through by sheer weight. He now had six other ships in the shield and all were heavy, ponderous merchant craft. They were chained together and would present as a heavy battering-ram as possible. The juggernaut of ships was being driven downstream by the combinations of the rivers’ natural flow, the ebb tide, and the easterly wind. Bishop Celyn felt confident for he had seven ships to the besieger’s three.
An hour later the ‘battering ram’ emerged out of the morning mist to confront Drustina’s siege.
At the mouth of the estuary Drustina’s three ships were patrolling the mile wide gap when the lookouts alerted her. She immediately prepared to engage but realised she had more sea-room to fight if she allowed the Bishops fleet to travel further out to sea. Once they had room to manoeuvre, she intended to pick the ships off at her leisure. Instead she was mildly surprised to see the bishop’s fleet drop anchor and await her decision.
“Do we attack or not?” Asked Hengis her faithful second in command.”
“He’s got some trick”, Drustina replied, “is that a white parley flag he’s raised.”
“Looks like it. Do we go closer?”
“Wait a bit. Let’s test his patience.”
Hengis took a turn out of their course and they dropped anchor to see what action the Bishop would take. It was not long in coming as a small boat was lowered and crossed the water between Drustina and the Bishop. Drustina recognised the oarsman as one of the Henchmen she had seen at the granary on the Preston quay. She called down to him from the rail of the Mermaid.
“I presume the white flag means the bishop wants to talk!”
The oarsman looked up and nodded as he proffered a note. Drustina took it and read the brief Latin message in the Bishop’s hand.
“The deal is simple. I release your brother to your care in exchange for my pratique.”
Drustina realised the note was deliberately brief to force her to act if only to ascertain that the Bishop did indeed hold one of her long missing brothers. She dismissed the oarsman and decided to go within hailing distance of the bishop’s ship. Fortunately The Angry mermaid was a lighter and more manoeuvrable craft than the Bishops ship. However manoeuvring under sail would be
difficult.
“We will have to ship our oars Lioness.” Hengis advised. “Manoeuvring in these narrow tidal waters will be tricky.”
Drustina nodded, she knew the Dane to be right. Without another word, her well trained crew set out the oars as Drustina explained.
“I have to get close enough to bring that bastard bishop into bowshot, my pretence is my need to identify my brother. Set the Mermaid’s bow upriver and then keep her stern to the Bishop’s ship as you let her drift backwards towards the bishop. The sternpost, rudder and tiller bar will hide my bow which I’ll keep by my side. It will only appear as though I am avoiding exposing myself to an arrow from the bishop or more likely, one of his bowmen.”
Hengis nodded and soon arranged the Mermaid accordingly. As her ship drifted slowly downstream with river and tide, Drustina stood with the sternpost covering her left side where her bow was held hidden with arrow already nocked. As soon as the two vessels were within earshot the bishop called across.
“That’s close enough. Look at this eunuch and tell me if he’s your brother.”
Drustina wanted to get just that critical bit closer in order to be almost certain of her shot. Already the tip of her arrow was pointing between the ruder and the stock while the bow was masked by the rudder stock’s height and girth. She called out.
“Does your prisoner have a scar on his right shoulder blade?”
Drustina knew that when he’d left to go to fight, her older brother bore no scars or wounds and she hoped he did not have any scars in that area. She wanted to create uncertainty and confusion to distract the bishop from realising she was getting closer.
Her question forced the Bishop to examine the eunuch’s shoulder and this briefly distracted the bishop as he grasped Morgaran’s robe. Drustina smiled a cruel self satisfied smile as she finally achieved her objective.
“Got you, you bastard!” She murmured softly so that only Hengis heard her words.
Her faithful chief mate smiled and nodded slightly.
On the other ship the Bishop tugged at Morgaran’s robe then searched for any hint of a scar. Finding none he cursed and turned again to shout to the lioness. Too late he realised that the sorceress’s ship had drifted almost on top of them and the bitch was releasing her arrow even as he drew breath to shout. Before he had time even to curse, the arrow had streaked across the gap and even grazed Morgaran’s ear before it pierced the bishop’s throat. The Bishop could not even call out a warning to his henchmen. The first that any of the Bishop’s men knew was when their leader sagged gargling to his knees.
Pandemonium immediately erupted as the untrained gangsters had no idea how to respond. Morgaran however knew exactly what to do and he flung himself over the side as the now leaderless crew descended into a panicked rabble. On the Angry mermaid the experienced and disciplined crew already knew what to do. As Drustina’s ship swept past, a cascade of well placed arrows brought a swift surrender. Drustina’s battle hardened crew were swiftly in possession of the Bishop’s ship.
Morgaran’s plunge had been seen by several men who immediately lowered the Mermaid’s jolly boat and fished the eunuch from the water. He emerged shocked and yet impressed as he fingered his bleeding ear and grinned partly with relief and partly with the
hope that this spectacularly beautiful warrior queen could yet possibly be his youngest brother. It did not seem possible.
“Dammit woman you nearly had me! Just look at this! I felt the bloody feathers as it sliced my cheek!”
Drustina stared at the plump, soft-skinned individual and truly wondered if this could be the powerful, muscular older brother she had always admired and looked up to.
“You moved. You should have stayed still until he was hit. Tell me are you truly Morgaran ap Caderyn ap Erin?”
“I am,” Morgaran croaked softly and sadly, “or I was before the Vikings did for my manhood. How is it possible that my younger brother turned into a woman?”
“I’ll go first,” Drustina replied. If you wish to prove that you are Morgaran my brother then show me the magic trick you used to tease me with when I was but a child!”
The lioness demanded this as she produced a short length of line. She knew that only her brother would know what the trick was, what he called it, and how to do it.
Grateful to be offered a chance to prove to all that he was indeed the Lioness’s brother, Morgaran took the short line and coiled it several turns before flicking his wrists and releasing the end as it slipped through the coils and formed a perfect slide knot. The released end appeared sticking out of the coils like a snake preparing to strike. As he snatched the ‘coiled snake’ the loops closed tight upon themselves to form a perfect noose to ‘kill the snake’.
It was done with all the same old speed and dexterity that had once left Drustan the boy mesmerized with admiration. She stared at the unmanned eunuch and wagged her head in despair.
“You truly are my brother and it pains me to see you reduced thus.”
Her expression softened as she stepped forward to acknowledge her brother as tears filled her eyes. Their arms embraced and they held each other for several minutes.
Hengis had never seen Drustina’s tears before and he quickly realised the depth of her emotions so he turned to his loyal crews.
“What are you bloody staring at boys? Have you never seen a woman’s tears before? There’s plenty to do! Let’s get these bloody ships crewed and sorted.
Once possession of the Bishop’s ships was completed, Drustina took stock. It was a substantial prize and fortunately nobody was better placed to give Drustina an accurate accounting of the value than her own brother, the scribe Morgaran.
The gold and silver aboard the Bishop’s ship alone would make a substantial contribution to King Ethelred’s exchequer and the other goods would make a substantial prize for Drustina’s crews. All but one of the cumbersome merchant ships were despatched under escort immediately to Wygan to relieve the shortages while the bishop’s ship and one merchantman were escorted by the Mermaid back to Preston to provide food for Carl’s troops after Drustina had confirmed her own male parts to her brother.
A grinning Gisela met with the Lioness as she docked.
“Have you captured him?” The Norse princess asked.
“He’s dead.” Drustina replied as she uncovered the bishop’s corpse for all to see. Gisela studied the corpse and nodded with satisfaction.
“Job done my lady.”
“But unfinished work I fear. There’s much injustice to put right.”
“Let me do that please my lady.” Gisela pleaded. “You return to your Saxon in Chester and savour your rewards.”
“Then let the eunuch scribe assist you. He knows most of what injustices have occurred.”
Gisela frowned suspiciously.
“Can you trust him Lioness? Let us not forget, he has worked for the thieving bishop.”
Drustina wagged her head wearily then affirmed.
“Yes I can trust him. He was once my brother before he was unmanned.”
Gisela gasped.
“By the gods! You have found him then.”
“Aye and he me, he has seem my duality and accepts now that I was once his little brother. I have told him of our sisters' fates but there is still our middle brother missing. We cannot have everything I suppose but we share a peace of sorts, at last. By the gods I’m hungry lets eat.”
The End.
~~oo000oo~~
Please find attached, the Character list for Angry mermaid. This is to avoid attaching the said list to every story. I have blogged this so if you have any comments, please answer in the blogging box and I can sound out the majority feelings. Thanks everybody.
Bevs.
xx.
The Angry Mermaid Character list
Gazette of Characters etc.
Mabina.... Ch 1 The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan.... Ch1 Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin.... Ch1 The twin’s grandfather.
Giana.... Ch1 The twin’s grandmother.
Caderyn.... Ch1 The twin’s father.
Herenoie.... Ch1` The twin’s wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran.... Ch1 The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe.... Ch1 The twin’s oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara.... Ch1 The twin’s second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim.... Ch1 Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu.... Ch1 Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun.... Ch1 Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin.... Ch1 Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun.... Ch 2 Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina.... Ch 4. Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by the three siblings.)
Penderol.... Ch 6 Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris.... Ch 6. Young Dumnonii warrior. Ch 6
Dryslwyn.... Ch 7 High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony. Ch 7
Bronlwyn.... Ch 7 Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab.... Ch 8 The moor who taught numbers.
Eric.... Ch 9 Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl.... Ch 9 Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel.... Ch 9 Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton.... Ch 7 Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia.... Ch7 Arton’s wife.
Isobel... . Ch 7 Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel.... Ch 9 King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana.... Ch 9 Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus.... Ch 10 King of the Capetani.
Shaleen.... Ch 10 Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro.... Ch 10 Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar.... Ch 10 Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan.... Ch 11 The scullery maid.
Isaar.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa.... Ch 11 Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega.... Ch 14 Tyrant King to the west.
Portua.... Ch 14 Portega’s grandson.
Jubail.... Ch 15 An old Fisherman.
Mutas.... Ch 16 Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia.... Ch 18 King of Malta.
Alviar.... Ch 21 Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia.... Ch 21 Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese.... Ch 21 Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor.... Ch 26 Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee.... Ch 28 Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam.... Ch 30 The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa.... Ch 31 King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk.... Ch 35 Makurian general.
Fantu.... Ch 35 Makurian Captain.
Irene.... Ch 41 Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon.... Ch 41 Byzantine Emperor.
Zano.... Ch 41 Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Oraxyis Ch 42 Supreme commander of the Bulgar forces.
Urthos.... Ch 46 The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... . Ch 46 Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine.... Ch 47 Leader of the pirate nuns.
Archbishop Craklow Ch 47 Archbishop of Warsaw, later Cardinal Craklow.
Guthrun.... Ch 49 Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Ch 49 Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Capenda.... Ch 49 Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Ch 52 Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... Ch 52 King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda... . Ch 55 Athun and Brendigan’s, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist or Hengis..... Ch 52 Drustina’s loyal Danish pilot who becomes her 1st Mate
Brendigan..... Ch 54 Athun’s older sister and consort queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.... . Ch 53 The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s gay partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.....Ch 56 Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon..... Ch 62 Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar..... Ch 62 Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)
Harald Cold Blood.... Ch 63 The Viking King, father of Gisela
Jupus..... Ch 69 Carl’s stallion.
Ethelred Ch 69 Saxon King of Wessex.
Heliox..... Ch 69 Drustina’s second mate and deputy navigator (Ex Belgiie fisherman)
Gisela..... Ch 70 Viking princess captured after the Battle of Godwin Sands.
“Althred..... Ch 71 Young Saxon Naval commander who allies his fleet with Drustina
Symone.... Ch 73 Young teenaged rape victim who join’s Drustina’s band.
Edburg.... Ch 72 The Angry mermaid’s cook.
Edrinor.... Ch 80. The Mercian King.
Princess Sonala.... Ch 80 Edrinor’s sister
Celyn.... Ch 80 Saxon Bishop of Winchester.
Sergeant penstock... Ch 82 Sergeant of the city guard.
Lefty Tip-toe.... Ch 82 Thief and assassin.
Ethel Ch 84 Bishop Celyn’s housekeeper.
Aeltea Ch 86 Drustina’s Chamber-maid.
Forden Ch 88 Viking conqueror of Eire and Cousin to Harald Cold Blood
Constin Ch 88 Scottish King and cousin by marriage to Harald Cold Blood.
Brigit. Ch 94 Irish widow who acts as Pilot for Drustina on West Coast of Ireland.
Marag Ch 96 Celtic Queen of Munster (Deposed by ...)
Bishop Brendan Ch 97 Bishop who exceeds his authority by spreading fear and superstition about Hell-fire and damnation.
Dorvan O'Dalgliesh Ch 98 prince of Connacht Son Of the King Dal O'Dalgliesh.
Una Dalgleish Ch 104 Adopted daughter of King Dal's fourth cousin. The product of a Viking rape of his wife