When Women Were Warriors Book I: The Warrior's Path

Innocent

When the last sheaf of grain had been cut and bound and carried home, it was time to celebrate the harvest. The sheaf was laid upon the harvest table in the great hall, and the feast began. For a week we had the best of everything, as much as we could eat, and more barley beer than we could drink.

On the last night of the festival, the Lady took up the Mother-sheaf and carried it outdoors. The whole household followed her, through the maze of earthworks and halfway down the hill to the meeting ground, where the country people were assembled. Almost everyone who lived on Merin’s land was there.

The Lady waited for the people to gather around her. When we were quiet, she began to speak. She spoke to us as a mother speaks to her children. She was in fact the mother of us all. This land was hers, and every soul that drew life from it was hers to care for. She spoke to us of our good fortune, of the plenty we enjoyed, of the Mother’s many gifts to us. She thanked us all for our hard work, and she thanked the Mother for making it fruitful. When she spoke of the coming winter, her voice gathered our hearts around the warm hearth she promised us.

The sun was setting, and the whole sky was ablaze. The Lady’s voice soothed me. All was well. All was as it should be. The warmth of the people gathered there shielded me against the growing chill. When the sun had gone and the fire in the sky began to fade, the Lady set the Mother-sheaf alight. We watched it burn until the last ember flickered out.

Someone slipped her hand into mine. It was Sparrow. She drew me away from the crowd and offered me her cup of ale.

The people were beginning to disperse. They wandered about aimlessly over the hillside, still under the spell of the Lady’s voice. So was I too under her spell, and the ale made me lightheaded. Sparrow led me down the hill, away from the others.

“Where are we going?” I asked her.

She giggled. I think she’d had too much to drink.

“Just down the hill a bit,” she said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She hurried on, until we were among the trees by the river. Sparrow sat down in the soft grass. When I sat down beside her, she edged closer to me and took my hand. I waited for her to tell me what was on her mind. Instead she looked down at my hand in hers. She turned it over and touched my palm.

“Such small hands,” she said.

I started to pull my hand away, but she took it between both of hers and held it fast.

“Do you miss her?” she asked me.

“Who?”

“Your warrior.”

Ever since the Lady had begun to speak, I hadn’t once thought about my warrior. Like the wind rushing into an empty house, my fear for her rushed back into my heart.

“Yes,” I replied. “I miss her very much.”

Sparrow had only just returned from the frontier, and I didn’t know if she had heard of Maara’s disappearance. I felt the less said about it the better.

“Do you ever sit like this with your warrior?” she asked me.

“Like what?”

Sparrow looked at me as if she thought I should have understood her. She saw that I did not.

“All those evenings when you were out in the countryside with her,” she said, “didn’t she ever approach you?”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Sparrow’s fingers brushed my cheek. She smiled. “Surely you’re old enough for love.”

I was so surprised I didn’t know how to answer her.