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

Innocent

She leaned toward me and touched my lips with hers. I began to feel warm all over, and my hand trembled in her hand. She leaned back and gazed at me.

“I do believe you are an innocent,” she said.

“I have never lain with a man,” I told her.

“Nor with a woman.”

“No.”

“Are all you country girls so backward?”

Her teasing embarrassed me, and my embarrassment made me angry. “If I’m backward, it’s no concern of yours.”

Sparrow laughed. “Not at all. You may keep your secrets.”

She knew perfectly well that I had none to keep.

Now I understood why she had asked me if I missed my warrior, but the thought of Maara approaching me for love almost made me laugh. Sometimes I still had trouble getting her to speak with me.

Then I began to wonder why Sparrow would ask me such a thing. Why would she assume something that had never once occurred to me? In my mind, I answered my own question, and the answer made a little shiver run down my spine.

“Do all the companions here lie with their warriors?” I asked her.

“Not all,” she said.

“Do you lie with Eramet?”

“When she wants me.”

I heard the sadness in her voice. “When she wants you?”

“Tonight she’s with Vintel.”

“Vintel?”

All I could think of was that if Vintel had returned from the frontier, she might have news of Maara.

“Eramet was Vintel’s apprentice,” Sparrow said.

I was torn. I wanted to stay with Sparrow, to let her tell me what was troubling her. She had so often listened to my troubles. But I also wanted to hurry back to Merin’s house to find Vintel. Then it occurred to me that if Vintel was with Eramet, I would be wise to wait until morning.

I turned my thoughts back to Sparrow.

“Do you mind?” I asked her.

“Mind?”

“That Eramet lies with someone else.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, “but I do.”

I waited to see if she would tell me more, but she stood up and said, “We should go back. It’s late.”

She gave me her hand to help me up. When I was on my feet, she would have let go, but I kept hold of her. I held her hand all the way home.

§ § §

In the morning I went to Vintel’s room. When she answered my knock, I lifted the curtain and went in. She had stood up to greet me. Perhaps she was expecting someone else.

Although I had seen Vintel almost every day in the great hall, I had never before spoken to her, nor had I ever been this close to her. A woman of impressive height and even more impressive presence, she filled the tiny room. When she saw me, she sat down, and the way she moved, graceful and sinuous, reminded me of a weasel. Her features were unusual, but not unpleasant. She regarded me with curiosity.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said, “but have you any news of Maara?”

Vintel shook her head.

I thanked her and turned to leave.

“Do you still expect her?” she asked me.

I nodded.

“I believe she will disappoint you.”

Her words brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip, to make them stop.

Vintel looked at me then as if she were taking my measure.

“You could go to the frontier with me,” she said. “I’m going back tomorrow. I returned to Merin’s house only to bring Maerel’s body home.”

Maerel had been Vintel’s companion. I hadn’t known her well, but the news of her death shocked me when I heard of it the night before in the companions’ loft. They told me she didn’t die at the hands of an enemy, but drowned when they made a river crossing. The Mother’s river can be as dangerous as the northern tribes.

Vintel cocked her head at me. “Well?” she said.

I didn’t know what she was asking me. I was still thinking of Maerel.

“Will you come with me or not?” she said.

“As your companion?”

“Of course.”

It was a tempting offer. I would have jumped at the chance to go to the frontier with Maara, but it felt disloyal to companion someone else. And I was cautious for a reason I didn’t understand until I had a chance to think about it. I was afraid of what Vintel would require of me.

I shook my head. “I thank you for the honor,” I said, “but I believe my warrior will return.”

§ § §

That evening, just as the sun began to set, we laid Maerel’s body in the barrow. With her we put everything she owned except her clothing. There wasn’t much. She was to have married in the spring, and she had a bride necklace her betrothed had given her. Her comb, her knife, and a small bronze mirror were laid beside her. Each of the companions gave her a grave gift. I set a pot of sweet herbs at her feet. Sparrow gave her a blue stone.

I had seen death before. Children die of fevers. Women die in childbed. I had lost childhood friends. This death, though, touched me in a way no other death had done. Maerel was a companion, as was I. She had awakened on the morning of her dying day as alive as I, and as certain she would rest that night in her own bed as I was certain I would rest that night in mine.