Jana, Episode 3

[The first two episodes are at Jana 1, and Jana 2]

On the Road

The lessons were to continue while they traveled. The commanding officer of the troop, a handsome man of around thirty called Captain Vila, told Jana that she was to be, in addition to the prince’s instructor, his personal guard. Jana could only accept it with good grace.

For the first day or two, the company divided into several groups, one traveling far ahead, one behind, with pairs of scouts on each side, and Jana and the prince in the middle. There was a certain amount of space --around half a mile -- in which she could teach the prince a few small things about riding.

As it happened, he was a natural. He mastered all the gaits quickly --which was made a little easier by the fact that it demanded more of the horse, really -- and they began preparing more difficult skills, such as fighting from horseback, as well as the conditions permitted.
“Phew,” said the prince, dismounting for lunch, “it is tiring!”
“More tiring for your horse,” Jana said. “Bring him!” He had to learn to make the beast comfortable, walk it down, give it water and food.
“Why should I do all this?”
It was the only sign of rebellion she got out of him, the whole time.
“Because you love the horse,” Jana said.
Happily, he was satisfied with that. Jana breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been two days, now, and the boy had learned some little of the art of the sword. After lunch, the entire troop engaged in exercises with practice swords, which the prince was invited to join. To Jana’s satisfaction, the boy gave a good account of himself to Captain Vila with the wooden swords.

“Have you tried the blunted sword?”
“No, Captain!”
“It is time. Take this.” The prince took the proffered weapon with great reluctance. “Ready? It is the same, but heavier. Begin!”
It was a disaster. He did not have the strength to hold it up, let alone wield it correctly.
“It’s all right, there’s plenty of time,” laughed the Captain. “Off with you to instructor Jana!”

Six hours of riding later, they made camp. The prince offered to help set up his own tent, and Jana was detailed to show him how it was done. Setting up a tent was right up his alley; Jana had to say very little. They made a good team, a fact that delighted the prince.
“You bathe first, if you wish,” the Captain told Jana. “I’ll hold the men back for twenty minutes, no more.”
“Yes Captain.”
“The tent is ready?”
“Yes Captain.”
“The horses were settled properly?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Did the, um,... did ... look after his horse properly, and all that?”
“Yes, Captain. There was no difficulty!”
“Good work, soldier. I know you resent playing the nursemaid.”
Jana kept silent. “All right; go now, and be quick. Or... ”
Or she would have a score of men watching her. She hurried off.

The quickest way to bathe was to strip completely naked, and this was what Jana did. Immersed to her neck, she washed as quickly as she could, scrubbing herself with clean river sand.

“Jana!”
Startled, she looked around, to see the prince watching her. He was red with embarrassment, but he wasn’t leaving.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you bathe.”
“Go back to the camp. There’s no one to guard you here.”
“You’re here!”
“Go. Now!” Reluctantly he departed.
Cursing, Jana rinsed out her soiled garments, dried herself and dressed into clean clothes, and returned to camp just in time.

At least they did not expect Jana to cook; there was a strict rotation, and the food was ready when the men returned from the stream. After supper, they sat round the fire, and told stories. To the surprise of all but Jana, the young prince was the best storyteller of them all, though, of course, he spoke only his own tongue fluently.

It was now time to sleep, a moment that Jana awaited with both dread and a perverse anticipation. She kept to the shadows, fearing that her high color could be noticed. The tent they had brought for the prince, though small, had two compartments; an inner one, in which the prince’s pallet had been set up, and an outer one, in which Jana would sleep. The rest of the tents of the troop were all round, and there was a posted watch. The prince was perfectly safe.

As soon as Jana and the prince were in their tent, the prince said, in an undertone that only Jana could hear, “Let me sleep with you tonight, Jana!”
Jana glared at him. “Do you want to destroy my reputation? Does my pride mean nothing to you?” she bit out the words in an angry whisper, almost hissing them.
“Nobody need know!”
“Are you mad? Is this a castle? It is a tent; everyone can hear! You are so silly, for a clever boy!”
Red-faced, he withdrew into his side of the tent. It took a full minute for Jana to stop shaking. She hated the fact that she yearned to do the very thing she had refused to do; already, in her imagination, she could feel him inside her, and there was an ache of longing between her legs. In her mind, only whores felt this way; chaste women felt no desire until they were married, and then, only for their own husbands.

When there was no sound from the inner chamber, she removed her tunic, laid out her roll, and slept in her breechclout, her knife within easy reach. The outer flap of the tent was held together by a single tie, which could be cut with a single stroke in case of fire.

She lay sleepless a long time, her lust giving her no peace. Then she heard a soft noise -- barely a whisper of sound -- and the entrance to the inner chamber swung open. She was on her feet in an instant, and her hands like vices on his arms.
“Go to sleep!” she breathed into his ear, quietly, but as fiercely as she could.
“I can’t sleep, and neither can you; I was listening!” he breathed back at her, equally quietly.
The determination went out of her. He gently drew her down until they were kneeling together. Jana closed her eyes, and breathed a prayer. She felt his hands on her, on her shoulders, her arms, studying the planes of her body. He put one palm on her back, and the other cupped her breast, and she felt his sigh of pleasure. She trembled.

When she awoke, before dawn, he was watching her, feasting his eyes on her body. They were both naked; her loincloth had been used as a wipe, and thrown aside. His eyes followed her, as she got to her feet, like a cat, and drew on her tunic. She motioned with her head towards the door; it was time to greet the day. He struggled to his feet, and retrieved his own tunic from inside, and bent to pick up the soiled loincloth, and joined Jana outside. Angrily she snatched the loincloth from him, and led the way to the stream. He meekly followed.
“I’m sorry!” he whispered, once they were out of hearing from the camp.
“Be quiet!” she snapped. She squatted some distance from the stream, but in plain sight of the boy, to urinate. Fascinated though he was, he was offended. She pointed peremptorily to a tree, indicating that he should follow suit.
“Why did you have to embarrass me? You could have gone into the bush, to do your business!”
“What does it matter now, after last night?”
“It matters to me!”
Jana only groaned.

Stefan was heartbroken; all morning she was annoyed, and would not meet his eye. To his eyes, she was the most beautiful thing that had ever lived; he loved to watch her move, walk, take down the tent; her beauty cut him like a knife. His spirit soared when she smiled, and he died when she was annoyed and glum.

It took a while for her to see that he suffered, and it only made it worse. She did not want him to be so attuned to her moods. He was obedient all morning, taking care of his horse as perfectly as he knew how. She avoided being alone with him, but it could not be avoided for ever. “I wish you would hit me, and be done with it!” he told her when they were finally alone.
“It isn’t only you, it’s me, too,” Jana said. “It’s a lesson for us both. I should ask to be relieved of ... guarding you at night.”
“Oh no, please! Oh please!”
“Why?” she demanded, exasperated.
“No, no!” he insisted.
Jana looked round anxiously. “Shh, be quiet!” she hissed.
“Is everything all right?” asked the Captain, one eyebrow raised.
Jana could only nod. The Captain looked at her sternly, and she dropped her eyes.

The Captain studied how the two youngsters treated each other. To his surprise and satisfaction, the young prince treated his pretty young bodyguard with the same courtesy, and except for that one day of ill-temper, she treated her young charge with the same patience and courtesy and firmness as she had done on their first day.

After supper each night, it now became their custom, after the storytelling, to ask Jana to sing. She had a high, sweet voice, the equal of any singer the Captain had heard. Among the most beautiful were the songs she had learned before she had been brought among the horse-people, songs of the warrior-women from whom she was descended, a culture hidden from most people.

Gradually the prince began to wield the blunted sword with a degree of skill. His arms and shoulders were bigger, now, and he grew tall seemingly as they watched. His horsemanship was excellent, and as they passed the borders of his native lands and began the last leg of their journey, he began to use a bow and arrow with fair skill, bringing down an occasional bird for their supper.

As they approached a cross-roads, the scouts riding out on the west side came racing in. “Convoy under attack, one mile west of the crossroads,” they cried. The troop was deployed with practiced efficiency into three groups, with Jana and the prince in the central group who raced along the road. Around a bend in the road, they saw a carriage and a few horsemen running from a dozen bandits. The other two groups erupted from either side of the road, and the bandits turned tail, only to be cut down.

For a while, all was confusion, and Jana found herself unable to help. Everything seemed to be in hand, though, and they only needed to wait. Then she noticed something furtive about the coachman’s behavior. He was turned towards the coach, and his hand seemed to be hidden in his tunic. Jana nudged the prince, indicating the coachman with her eyes. The coachman seemed to think better of whatever he had planned to do, got down from his seat, and slipped into the forest.
“Treachery!” breathed Stefan, and with a single motion, drew an arrow and shot it, and the coachman dropped with the arrow in his back.

The coach contained a middle-aged couple and a young girl, whom the prince recognized. “Lord Nikos! Lady Penelope!” he cried, jumping down from his horse. The old couple were confused at the sight of such a large number of horse-people in their country, grateful though they were to have the bandits killed.
“The coachman! Arrest the coachman!” cried Lord Nikos, shaking with fury. Captain Vila was introduced, and he informed the gentleman that the coachman was dead, thanks to the prince. The party, now with the old couple and their servants, all headed up towards the Capital of Queen Ione.

[Next: Episode 4]