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.