The Tattooed Princess

A Deadly Encounter

"Moshtok. . . you must bite this with all of your strength," she said, holding the fabric closer now to his mouth. "When Zaria pulls the arrow out . . . bite and scream!  Scream as loud as you wish! For it will be out of you quickly."

        Moshtok understood and opened his mouth to receive the rolled bundle. Each of the girls held him still as Zaria took a deep breath and then yanked the shaft as hard as she could. It quickly slid through the muscle of his upper back and was extricated out the other side of him. Moshtok cried out and winced in agony, biting hard on the padding. Soon it was over and he just breathed hard, feeling his body was now in shock. Branka took the fabric and used it as a compress to close the wound where the arrow had made its entry.

        The two remaining soldiers took time to wrap their fallen warriors with saddle blankets and tied the bodies to their horses. Moshtok's animal had run off into the forest when it was struck by the arrow, and it was presumed it would die if not located the following day. Zaria and Svetlana remounted for the return ride, while Branka and Moshtok would share her mount—the injured teacher leaning heavily against her, and in a semiconscious state.

        As the party came back within view of the settlement's lookouts, several warriors rode out to escort them to safety. When word reached Sharvur of the attack by a rogue party of Uratu, he ordered a hunting party of warriors to seek them out for retaliation that very evening. When he had also heard it was Zaria who had pulled the arrow shaft free from Moshtok's body, and that only two of the party had been killed, he was in further affirmation of Zaria's prowess as a charmed addition to his society,  and her supernatural abilities to repel a threat.

        "I hear you acted like the supreme creature you wear now on your skin, Zaria" Sharvur told her. They sat in a meeting with his wise advisor, Krido in the great hall.

        Zaria just nodded modestly. "I had seen how to help Moshtok," she said quietly. "I learned it as a girl."

        "Nevertheless, my king,"  Krido said, turning to Sharvur in the empty room. "It is obvious that you have obeyed the promise to not violate this girl. For it has been ordained that she will continue our protection only if you can temper your lust for her. It seems you have honored that."

        "It has been tested, wise one." Sharvur said, smiling and looking over at Zaria. "But I am in control of that desire. Zaria is pure still. And I vow that she will remain so. She is extraordinary in many ways, and today was just one more proof of her divine worth to us."

        Zaria turned in anger and looked at the distant wall. After several moments she returned her gaze to Sharvur.

        "May I make a request of you then?" She asked this boldly, in the presence of the aged Krido.

        "Of course," Sharvur insisted. "You are now a princess in this palace. And my home. I will always attempt to grant you what you wish.  I am a man who believes every deed deserves reward. Is that not so, Krido?"

        The old man did not speak. He only looked searchingly into Zaria's eyes.

        "I would like you to put my friend Branka in charge of Mostok's recovery," Zaria said with conviction. "She is to see him each day until he heals. This will not interfere with your. . . meetings with her at night . . . when you have such desire for Branka."

        The old man turned and was now scrutinizing Sharvur's demeanor.

        "For I know that Branka is caring," she added. "And she admires Moshtok, as we all do. She can provide for him the ointments Tsudros has used to heal my skin. And which can stop the dangers of prolonged sickness."

        Sharvur was silent. He looked at Krido who was deep in concentration. It was a look he had seen on the old man's face many times over the years. A look that told of insight and some rarefied ability to see into the future. In this case the old man did not offer his opinion, but just broke his view of that determinable image with a glance quickly away from Sharvur. 

        "Fine." Sharvur said. "It will be so. I have no problem with Branka's present duties to include the care of Moshtok. He is of my blood . . . and I must look after him in this time of his recovery." A smile came over the face of Sharvur. "Perhaps there is no better healer than the charms of a beautiful girl."

        The king laughed at his comment, though neither Zaria nor Krido joined him in the levity.

        "I too adore Moshtok," he said. "And trust everyone will respect my wishes. . .both for him. . . and for myself. Branka will remain my bedroom slave when I call for her. This must be understood."

        Without an explanation the feeble Krido stood. And  with the help of his long and twisted walking staff, he ambled to the doorway of the great hall. Both Zaria and Sharvur looked at the old man inquisitively as he made a deep bow in respect to his king before leaving.

        "Well I am very pleased at what you did today to help my cousin," Sharvur said to Zaria. "And I am sorry you had to witness the killing of two of my soldiers . . . and the dogs who killed him," he added.

        "You forget, my king. . . I had witnessed the killing of my family at the hands of your skilled warriors. After that, no death is too strong for me to see."

        Sharvur only stared down at the tapestry on which the two of them sat. It was designed with the royal motif of a lion hunt.

        "Is there anything else I can grant you on this long and sad day?" he asked her. seemingly now in a trance.

        "I wish to see Tsudros again," she answered. "I will take from him the ointments to give to Branka . . . and then . . . make a request of his talents once more."

            The king looked up at her, suddenly focused once more.           

        "Talents?"           

        "Yes, he is brilliant. I wish to have another of his tattoos. Here. On my other arm and shoulder."          

        "But I thought you were pleased with the beautiful work which adorns your body already, Zaria."           

        "Yes.And so much so . . . I want another."           

        "But  . . .you look now so . . ."           

        "Different? Yes. And if that is to be my life here . . . I want it to show. "           

      Sharvur stared down again, entering with his imagination the motif of the colourful floor tapestry. . . riding regally out in pursuit of a graceful and deadly lioness.

        "With your permission, my king, I will see Tsudros again tomorrow afternoon . . . for yet another of his incomparable creations."

        In his distant and brief reverie out on the plains, Sharvur turned and looked up. The lioness he was hunting was suddenly there . . . peering down at him from a precipice . . . poised . . . but not wishing to attack. . .

        "You may do as you wish with Tsudros," Sharvur said finally, looking back at her cooly. "But do not forget the pain involved with his artistry."

        "How could I forget pain?" she said, ironically.

        Zaria then stood. And as with always leaving him, she gave her brief, obligatory bow. 

                                                   *     *     *

        (To be continued. . .)