Welcome, Readers

Since I do not have a counter on the site, if you have found your way here, please leave a comment, such as just "hello", so that I will know you were by! If you've ever written any fiction, you will know that an author waits anxiously for a reader, any reader. I don't hope to earn actual financial income from the writing, but acknowledgment would be wonderful.

By the way, I stumbled on the graphic on how to wear a Doric Chiton, and I was simply amazed. I'm a fair artist, but to draw something so perfectly, with just a few lines; I would give anything to be able to do that! The piece of fabric is shown with green on the inside and blue on the outside not for authenticity, but in order to depict the two sides of the fabric. (If they had shown a peplos in the same way, some of the green side would be clearly visible. I'm going to try and put together a similar diagram to show a peplos.
Thanks for visiting, and I hope you liked the writing, and the diagram!
KB

P.S: Since this was written, I have put a counter on the site, as you can see!  But comments are welcome anyway; please comment! I wonder whether there is some way to design the page to encourage comments more, but I have not had a single comment on the blog since its inception :(

ACAI: Too good to be true

I don't know how this happened, but I got annoyed at yet another Acai berry advertisement that popped up out of nowhere, and I decided to check it out on Google.

The result was amazing. Most of the top links that seemed to be critical of Acai berry were actually endorsements in disguise. The first one that was at all critical was by CNN, and it claims that, well, the berries have lots of good nutritional properties, but their effectiveness was grossly exaggerated on the web. I found this much easier to believe than if the report had been totally negative.

Most fresh fruits and berries have excellent nutritional properties, and Acai is no worse than the average. However, as CNN says, it is far from being the solution to every nutritional problem. Spread the word!

K

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]

Jana, Episode 2

[The first installment of this story is at Jana 1.]

Jana, at sixteen, was rather a chameleon. Coming, as she did from a people known to be handsome, she had regular features, straight streaky blonde hair cut straight across at shoulder-level, now braided and tied, grey-green eyes, which were usually squinting against the sun on patrol, but were now wide with anticipation, strong, muscular shoulders, arms and legs, the arms now heavy with bronze or copper bracelets and armlets, and she was demurely covered with a sheer shawl over her ankle-length new chiton of thin reddish-brown wool. A pair of heavy earrings brightened her face, and she had touched her lips with a dash of red dye, and looked nothing like the warrior-maiden she was. Her bosom, to her regret, was still defiantly flat, though several years of archery practice had deepened her chest.

Eva was gratified with the glances Jana was attracting from everyone. The girl did not realize what a beauty she really was; her carriage was graceful, despite the confidence of her bearing, which was more suited to a soldier. Her hair shone, thanks to Eva’s careful work on it that morning; and Jana’s excitement added the rest of the magic which transformed her.

Once they arrived at the entertainments that surrounded the theater, several young folks gravitated towards them, boys and girls of Jana’s age. It was well into summer, and the evenings were long, and it was still early when they got there. As was usual, the girls got into a huddle, surrounded by the boys, and a strange conversation began, with the girls talking among themselves, the boys among themselves, and each group keeping half an ear on the other conversation.

“Have you given up the army, then?”

“No,” Jana shook her head, smiling.

“How can you stand it?” shuddered one dark-haired beauty, “All those boys, every single minute of the day!”

“We get along fine,” Jana said.

The girls knew that Jana had no romantic relationships with her fellow-soldiers, and knew better than to indulge in innuendo. Several of the boys were from her troop, and shyly complimented her on her looks.

“She looks different when she’s on patrol,” they observed.

Jana laughed. “I can’t fight in these!”

“What if there’s an attack right now?” somebody asked, facetiously.

“I have a knife,” replied Jana, and all the girls declared that they did, also. Despite their rhetoric to the contrary, the women of the horse-people were far from defenseless. Their specialty was the thrown knife, and some girls carried several knives hidden on their persons.

“Jana has a new friend, did you know?” said one young man with a grin. Jana grew red. She turned to glare at him, knowing that there was little she could say.

“What do you mean?”

“We caught a prisoner, a young fellow, and he’s now devoted to Jana!”

“Is it true?”

Jana shrugged. “They put me in charge of him. He’s just a baby; he used to follow me around...”

Luckily, there had never been a suspicion of a romantic link between Jana and the boy. The prisoner’s obvious admiration of Jana had been put down to hero-worship.

Eva and Ole were about to head off to find seats, and they called to Jana. Just then, she saw a familiar flash of blue fabric. That particular shade of blue was not common among the horse-people, and it caught many eyes.

“There he is! That’s the boy, the one who has a crush on Jana!”

He was clean and tidy, obviously as dressed-up for the theater as he could manage, but he was quite free; he was accompanied by his elderly companion, and a young relative of the King. He certainly carried himself like royalty, with confidence but not arrogance. He looked about, studying the entertainment booths with eagerness as his guide pointed out items of interest, and then he spotted Jana, and seemed to freeze. Jana’s girl friends, meanwhile, looked their fill on the fabulous visitor, as did the young men.

“He’s only a kid,” said one girl.

The boy spoke to his companions, who nodded cautiously, and the party headed through the crowd towards Jana.

“Wait, mother, father!” said Jana, half turning to the older couple, who happened to be watching the young prince approach.

“Is that him?” asked Eva, softly. Jana nodded.

As the boy walked up and slowed down, Jana’s circle of friends quietly rearranged itself into a semicircle, with Jana and her family in front.

“Greetings, Jana!” said the boy, politely including them all in his smile and half-bow. Jana responded as courtesy required. After an embarrassed few seconds, Jana tugged her foster-parents forward.

“Mother, father, this is the young man we brought in, his name is Stefan, the son of the Queen Ione.” Among the horse-people, the young were always introduced to the old. “Stefan, these are my foster-parents, and my friends and neighbors.” The boy smiled and bowed again, awkwardly.

Would the awkwardness never end? No one seemed to know what to do. Stefan was neither a prisoner, nor a visiting dignitary, and in any case, the rules of such matters did not cover Stefan wanting to visit with a military family.

“Would you like to join us?” asked Ole, politely, in the language of the boy, which Jana had also used. (It was widely understood, but not fluently spoken by all.)

“Indeed, that would be wonderful,” said the prince, brightening. Despite his lack of savoir-faire, he was instinctively polite. The escort relaxed, and they all headed towards the theater together. Somehow, good seats were found for all of them, quite close to the front, and Jana found herself seated next to Stefan.

It was painfully uncomfortable for both young people, so acutely aware of each other. They dared not touch; Jana could think of nothing but the feel of Stefan’s soft lips under her own, the beating of his heart, and the silky skin of his penis as it had throbbed deep inside her. It had been the closest thing to heaven she could remember. It was sheer emotional fatigue that made them finally pay attention to the drama.

The story, whose tragic outcome must have been obvious to all but the two young people, took them by surprise. Jana found young Stefan awkwardly reaching for her hand, and found herself responding. As the tragedy took its toll, Stefan watched, riveted, a tear sliding unnoticed down his cheek, his hand squeezing Jana’s tight. “It’s only a play,” Jana turned to whisper to him, though her own eyes were shining. He only nodded, his lips trembling. Hearing a snigger from close by, Jana turned to glare at the culprit. It felt odd, to feel so protective of a foreign boy, as she was surrounded by her so-called friends. But she had protected him against playful bullying even on patrol.

Afterwards, the older folks left the youngsters alone for a while, and Stefan had to bear a good deal of ragging from Jana’s friends, and this time she wisely desisted from being protective. It was meant in good fun, and Stefan took it with fair grace. They made the rounds of the booths, and Stefan gained some admirers with his skill at hitting targets with balls, winning little prizes which he gallantly gave each of the young ladies in the group.

“He isn’t a bad sort,” they decided, when he finally had to go. “They say his people are very emotional.”

“He’s fifteen, but he acts like he’s twelve,” grumbled one girl. “Very awkward,” agreed another. Somehow Jana escaped being accused of being the object of his admiration. Perhaps he’s over me, she thought, which filled her with a mixture of relief and regret.

Ever since that fateful morning, Jana had been tortured with the memory of those few minutes by the stream. She hungered for that experience again, but though she tried to imagine other men doing the same thing with her, she felt either disgust, or nothing at all. She wondered if she was to spend her life longing after a boy she could never possess.

Arms instructor

Jana was getting her things together; it was two days before she had to report back for work. Dressed in a short tunic and barefoot, she had just taken the dry clothes off the line, and was busy folding them. Eva was waiting for her with a digger; she wanted Jana to dig a pit for her.

“Eva! Jana!” came a bellow from inside the house. The women looked at each other and hurried in. Ole sat, head in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” Eva cried.

“It’s that fool of a prince,” Ole cursed. He looked up at Jana, his face creased in worry.

“What does he want?” Jana asked, managing not to show her inexplicable excitement.

“He’s asked the King for you, as an arm’s instructor!”

“Me?” Jana was aghast. “I can’t teach arms; I’ve never done it!”

“And that’s not all,” Ole hesitated, this was the alarming part; “he wants you to accompany him when they take him home!”

“What’s the harm in that?” Eva asked cautiously.

“It means,” said Ole, feeling and sounding miserable, “they won’t let her come back!”

It was all too fast for Jana. In retrospect, she realized that Ole could have broken the news in stages, making it less of a shock, but that was his way: he would not disguise a painful fact.

“If you want to go, it’s all right; If you don’t,... we must hide, or we must fight it!”

“No! No; I’ll go,” said Jana.

The young prince had never shown any inclination towards the martial arts, and his indulgent mother had allowed him to be a scholar. His present interest in the manly arts was directly attributable to Jana’s influence. Her prowess inspired him; he remembered well her part in their rescue. He also wanted her approval, thinking that it was an active type of man that she preferred.

Eva was heartbroken, but Ole consoled her with possible benefits of visit to Queen Ione’s court. But as far as Eva was concerned, she would not even have the girl with her until she left with the prince; she would be at the palace, coaching him at arms.

Ole managed to postpone the arms instruction for a couple of days. For two days, Ole taught his daughter the art of teaching the art of battle. All the urchins in the street were given crude wooden swords, and Ole drilled them, as Jana watched, then Jana drilled them, watched by her father. She quickly learned that it was one thing to learn the art of the sword, the quarterstaff and the bow, and another thing entirely to teach it!

“Make them move their feet correctly,” Ole told her quietly, “it is always the first thing.” He gently cuffed one of the rascals who was hacking away at his opponent any old how.

“Out! Watch.”

It was a dance; at the moment only a dance, and at the proper time, a dance of death! At the end of the day, Jana was exhausted. Two days! How much could she learn in two days? Jana despaired. After a bath and supper, Jana talked with Eva. “He seems a bright fellow,” she encouraged her daughter, “teach him one thing at a time. Ask your father for the best sequence of lessons!”

“I know the sequence,” muttered Jana.

“Well, then.”

“Still!” Jana looked up, frustrated. “He’s just a baby!”

“He won’t be, for long,” Eva said.

Jana showed up bright and early on the third day. She was first met at the front door of the palace, to her surprise, by the King himself. He was a large, attractive man of middle age.

“Your majesty!” she gasped, going down on one knee, as was proper for a Rider.

“Up, my girl!” the King grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming. Then his face sobered up. “Do you do this thing willingly, my child? If not, I can try and dissuade the youngster.”

“No, my lord; I am happy to go.”

A stool was brought in, and Jana was made to sit. She was a warrior now, and she sat like a man, one knee dipped slightly and the foot under the seat, ready to spring to her feet. The King nodded approval.

“You must be my eyes and ears at the Queen’s court.” Jana nodded, wide-eyed. “It’s not the Queen I distrust, you understand?” Jana nodded, though she did not understand in the least.

The King regarded Jana solemnly, and she had the sensation of being carefully studied, and thoroughly understood. The King looked about, verifying that they were alone, then turned back to Jana, who hardly dared breathe.

“Sometimes it must seem to you as if all we care is to extend our territory. Isn’t it so?” Jana nodded, tongue-tied. “You may speak, child; I’m not going to harm you. But I need your intelligence more than your arms, now. Where was I? Ah.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“Would it surprise you if I were to say that I want Ione to be strong?”

Jana was confused. To the warrior, a weak enemy was preferable to a strong one. She nodded, then shook her head, no. Her confusion was plain on her face.

The King smiled, and continued. “Do we have the men to protect our lands, as well as those of Ione?”

“No, Sire,” Jana managed.

The King’s face lit up. “You’re a wise girl! Be safe, my child; I have use for you here, when your work in Ione’s court is done. You understand?”

“Yes, Sire!”

He studied her thoughtfully for a while.

“To learn arms is to learn grace, confidence, an understanding of force and balance.”

Jana nodded.

“A ruler needs these things. Am I right?”

Another nod.

“His upbringing has been too gentle for him to face a man as instructor, Jana. But some day, you realize, he has to face other men!”

Jana nodded.

“You are a woman only by accident. Remember that. As soon as he is ready, you must teach him as a man would!”

“Yes, Sire!”

“Do your best, child. I will send help as I can.”

Jana’s head was aching, trying to absorb the nuances of the King’s words. She hurried behind the servant who led the way. It was only a little past eight when Jana met the prince in an inside courtyard.

“Why can’t you be instructed by a man?” she demanded, with a scowl. “It is men who teach fighting, not women!”

The prince was taken aback by this attack.

“I’m afraid! I must start somewhere! I know you’re good; I’ve seen you fight!”

Muttering to herself, Jana supervised fastening on his protective padding and clothing. He was relieved when he was given a wooden sword; he frankly admitted his fear of metal weapons.

It was time. Remembering Ole’s words, she focused on footwork, teaching elementary swordplay as a dance. Over and over she drilled him, building up his accuracy and his speed. The poor fellow had absolutely no control over his arms and legs; he was far from a natural fighter. But he listened, and he remembered; after all, he considered himself a scholar.

At first, during the breaks, all he could do was gasp for breath. Jana made him continually drink water, and set an example by doing so herself. The puppy-dog look that she so dreaded was gone from his eyes, evidently he had decided to be businesslike. For the first few hours, though, he had no time for anything except keeping up.

By late morning, he was catching breath soon enough to tell her something of his studies. He described wonders which she could hardly believe; that the world was round, and that there were other continents, in which dwelt wondrous beasts beyond imagining!

The prince went away to lunch, while Jana was brought a good meal from the guardhouse, enough to satisfy her, but not so much as to slow her down.

In the afternoon, she taught the quarterstaff. “And then I’ll teach you the spear,” she told him. “Officers do not use spears, you understand? But it is good training, nevertheless.”

“You are well-spoken, for a military lass,” he observed, while they pounded away at each other. He was clever enough to fight and talk at the same time, though even the light staff she had given him still took its toll on him. “Do all your people learn our language, and so well?”
“No,” she replied, “I was a captive from the North East.”

“From the land of the warrior women!”

“Yes.”

“They speak my language, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s how I know it. Watch out!” He moved his hand just in time.

But he had eaten too much, and was getting drowsy. Jana gave up on him in disgust. “Tomorrow,” she said, “you will share my meal. It will be a light one. You cannot fight after gorging yourself!”

“What more is there to learn?”

“I was going to teach you to ride.”

“I can ride already!”

Jana drew a deep breath. “One can always learn to ride better.”

“This is true,” he admitted.

He gazed at her with his remarkable blue eyes, and she looked at her feet. As long as they were sparring she knew what to say, and how to behave, but now...

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

“Hate you? No! Why do you ask?”

“Because I asked to take you away from your home!”

Jana shrugged. “I’m a fighter; I go where I’m sent.”

It was only the first of many such conversations. Every day he learned as much as he could stand, until indeed he could barely stand. Then he made her sit, and he talked with her. He was a gentleman; he never pursued his advantage over her, but with a wisdom beyond his years he drew her out, until she felt as if she knew him well, and he certainly knew her better than anyone except Ole and Eva.

Jana watched her comrades depart with great distress. A different squadron --the King’s Own-- had been assigned the task of conducting the prince to his home. Jana was temporarily absorbed into a troop of this squadron, and given a tunic in its distinctive colors, brown edged with green. Finally they were ready to depart. Having kissed her foster-parents tenderly, Jana hurried to the palace with her roll of belongings.

Jana

On Patrol

Jana had ridden with Rider Patrols of the Horse People for more than a year, now, and seen no action whatsoever. She was around 16 years old, and not the only girl Rider either; she had been one of three in her group, but one had got married, one had got hurt, and only she was left. She was one of the smallest in the group, but for half the year her adopted father, Ole, had been patrol leader, and the girls had been left alone. She was a dead shot with the long bow, an unusual weapon for a girl, and a fair fighter —at least on the practice field— with the short sword, given her height five-foot-six and weight of 160 pounds.
They were on their way home, rounding the eastern edge of the Horse Plains, the vast lands of the Horse People, through the dense forests in the east-Central part of their territory, when they heard the shouts and screams. They were human shouts, and inhuman screams. . . they rode at a gallop into a clearing, and found a small group of four people —two fighters, an old man and a boy— beset by huge cats, things that hadn’t been seen in the plains in decades! Seeing the newcomers, the cats turned to snarl at them. One fighter was dead, his throat ripped out by one of the three cats, and the other was badly hurt, his hand bitten or clawed, and bleeding profusely. Two of the horses lay dead; the cats had done well for themselves, if not for the humans! It was impossible to get a bead on the animals, since the old man and the boy were always in line as they kept circling, pacing back and forth.
Jana, at the back, climbed a huge tree. Claw-marks indicated that it was this very three in which the cats had lain in wait. The cats saw her, and the men soon afterwards. “Careful,” murmured the leader, “get it right the first time, Jana.” She drew carefully, her steady hands a contrast to the furious excitement she felt. She had her choice of three cats. . . One leaped at the tree. She shot another one in the eye; and the cat in the air had ten arrows in its throat and chest before it fell back. The remaining animal was killed easily. The boy fainted.
The prisoners would not talk. All they would reveal is that the boy was returning home from school in the East. It was well known that a community of sages lived on the eastern edge of the Horse Plains, unmolested by their neighbors. It was this community that they referred to “school”. They could be from anywhere.
The boy, about fifteen years old, was naturally put in Jana’s charge. Much smaller than her, he rode with her, on his own horse or on hers, and she was responsible for seeing that he got his food, and most importantly, that he saw to his calls of nature at convenient times.
As the only girl in the group, Jana had to make sure that her own toilette was carried out without inconveniencing the rest of the troop, and accordingly she got up very early. The men slept in their loincloths, but Jana was dressed in her spare tunic in which she slept; she hated to expose her breasts, though there was absolutely nothing there.
On her way out to the stream, she passed the boy, still asleep. She studied him curiously; he was frail-looking, downy-cheeked, and his eyes were covered with the sweetest long, long lashes. His short brown hair curled softly around his ears, and Jana felt a sudden urge to touch him. Just then he opened his eyes, and they were a startling blue that invariably put her off-balance; right now, his glance went right to her heart.
Jana hurried, looking away. Her ablutions didn’t take long; she was accustomed to doing it fast. She washed herself thoroughly —her foster-mother Eva was very particular about that — rinsed out the tunic, and put on her regular clothes: a breech-clout, a knee-length tunic, and a leather belt. She headed back to camp, nodding to the Rider on watch.
The boy prisoner struggled to sit, and pleaded with his eyes. He needed to relieve himself. Jana sighed. She untied the rope by which he was nominally tied to the tent-pole, and he got to his feet. Oh, he was such a girl! In his pretty blue tunic and sandals, his skin had hardly seen the sun, it seemed! “Untie me please,” he begged in his own language, which Jana understood well. It was the common language on the continent; in fact Jana’s tribe, from which she had been abducted as a child of nine, had been close neighbors of the folk whose language this was. Jana considered; she could get him if he tried to run; anyway, where would he go?
“No,” said Jana, firmly.
“Please!”
Jana shook her head.
“You speak my language!” he exclaimed.
“Certainly!” she replied.
The rope was simply tied to his ankle. He could wash easily, as well as do all his other business. Taking off his tunic, he went behind a bush, and Jana heard the expected sound of him making water. Then there was a silence, and Jana realized that he was untying his rope. Laying her end of the tether silently down, she crept around to watch. Off the rope came, and he ran down to the stream in his breech-clout and sandals. The idiot was making a break for it!
Jana caught him in a dozen yards or so, and held him tight, facing him with a half smile.
“Kill me now! Kill me!” he cried.
“Where will you go in this forest?” she asked him. “Come along and wash up, and don’t be a baby!”
He was stubborn, and Jana had to wash him by force, making him blush all over in embarrassment.
One day, the boy discovered, much to his chagrin, that his guard was a girl. He had asked her name, once he was reasonably confident that he would not be punished for being forward, and she had innocently told him.
“But that is a girl’s name!” he had exclaimed.
“So am I a girl,” she had replied, amused, “didn’t you know?”
“But. . . but you touched me!”
Jana snorted. “You are my prisoner, and I can touch you any time I please, boy!”
In spite of his indignation, he was getting very attached to Jana. He shared the horse with the old man, which meant that half the time he rode behind her on her own horse, holding her around the waist. He seemed to take every opportunity, she thought, to touch her.
Then one morning, it happened. For whatever reason, far out of sight of the others, the boy had stripped naked, and Jana surprised him in the act of caressing an enormous erection. When they saw each other, they had frozen for a long minute. Jana was drawn to him, like a magnet. She had gently laid him on the soft moss on the river bank, and tenderly kissed him on his lips, and they had given in to passion. Innocent as they both were, it was a miracle that it was accomplished at all.
“Jana,” he whispered, his heart beating like a trip-hammer.
“Yes,” she had breathed back.
“What just happened?”
“Don’t you know?” Jana gasped.
“No . . . Tell me!”
“Why . . . We have lain together, like a man and a woman!”
“Oh heavens . . . have we committed a sin?” he asked, his eyes wide in fear.
“No, boy, . . . anyway, it was my fault . . . Forgive me!”
Then he put his arms round her and closed his eyes, and she knew he was her prisoner indeed!

The Capital
They presently arrived at the City of the Horse People. The Horse People had only one permanent city, since most of them lived in tents, as they followed the great herds of horses as they moved about the plains. Once they reached the City, Jana was off duty, and hurried home to her foster-parents, Ole and Eva, and told Eva everything, privately.
“What a foolish thing you have done! What if you get a child?” asked her foster-mother.
“I won’t!” insisted Jana. Eva had been shocked, but at the expected time, Jana’s courses had arrived punctually. So Jana had lost her virginity to a young prisoner.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Jana, the boy had been asking for Jana. Ole came back home one night, and called them together. “What do you think that boy is? He is the Son of the Hellene Queen, Ione! He is their Royal Prince, and he seems to be completely captivated by our Jana! He wants to visit with her!”
The Hellene Queen! And she, Jana, had seduced him! She didn’t know the meaning of the word, but after all, she had technically forced herself on him. She wondered what her own King would say. So far as she knew, only she, the boy, and Eva knew all the facts.
“Dress carefully, I’ll take you to the palace,” said Ole. Jana and Eva exchanged worried glances. Jana quickly dressed in a pretty girl’s tunic and girdle, in the style of her adopted people. The tunic fell to mid-calf length, and older women wore stolas and veils, and so forth, but a girl of Jana’s age was fully and properly dressed in the tunic.
[It should be said here that what we describe here as a “tunic” was really a chiton, which was a simple garment of linen, usually, made by sewing two rectangles of cloth down the sides and across the top, leaving holes for the head and the arms. One slipped it on over the head, and fitted it with a belt or girdle. For formal occasions, the chitons were of finer fabric, and more carefully sewn, with embroidery along the borders, the neck and the sleeves, or contrasting panels of fabric inserted into it. This costume was almost universally worn in that region.]
At the palace, Jana was left in a small room filled with books. Presently the boy was brought in, and they were alone.
“Hello,” Jana said awkwardly.
“Hello,” said the boy, his face red with confusion.
“So,” said Jana, “I’m told you’re the son of the Queen.”
“What does it matter,” he blurted out, “I’m a prisoner!”
“Do not be anxious; you will be sent home.”
He was shocked. “I will?”
“Of course! Otherwise it will be war!” Her eyes looked about the room, and came back to rest on him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I was told never to say who I was, or there would be ransom demands.”
“Don’t you know the difference between bandits and a patrol?”
He shrugged. He was a scholar, and scholars were not concerned with such things.
They were seated a few feet apart. He stood, and came closer. Jana looked up at him, feeling again the warmth she had felt when they had traveled together. In a sense, the sex they had shared had spoiled things; made it awkward to recapture their easy friendship.
“I’m sorry once again,.. . for forcing myself on you,” whispered Jana.
“Why? It was the most.. . wonderful thing I have ever felt; it was like flying.. . it was as if I was a bird; I cannot describe it!” he whispered back earnestly, coloring deeply. “Jana,” he continued, with almost frightening earnestness, “I want to be with you for ever!”
At one time —even a few days previously, Jana would not have thought twice. He had touched her tender heart, and as far as she knew, what she felt was what everyone called “love” ; she had never felt anything more intense for anyone. But things were different now: he was a prince to begin with, and her feeling for him had crystallized into a gentle concern spiced with a little impatience. But his intense emotions upset her deeply.
Jana hung her head. She realized that though the experience had been wonderful for her, it had meant far more to the young prince. She braced herself.
“Don’t be foolish,” Jana said severely, standing up, putting on her “warrior face”. The boy took a step back, and straightened up. “You have your duty! Be a man!”
He had gasped. The challenge had got him at several levels. Jana left him wearing a thoughtful scowl.
“The wretched boy is obsessed with her,” said Ole to Eva a few days later.
“What?” exclaimed Eva, furiously. “Ole, she doesn’t care for him! She... she was kind to him, that’s all!”
Ole shrugged. “For whatever reason, he’s crazy about her!” Ole slumped onto a stool.
Jana had gone shopping with a couple of older girls. Jana had few friends among girls her own age, and that worried Eva. Thus far, it had been the lack of similar interests. Now that Jana was interested in clothes and jewelry, she was hoping things would improve. She had only a few days to enjoy her foster-daughter before she had to return to duty, on the endless patrols, or the endless drilling.
She arrived back, radiant. She had bought fabric for a new dress. It would be an extra-wide chiton, which was very elegant, and she had bought a pair of new brooches which could gather the extra material gracefully at the shoulders. The two women sewed all afternoon since that evening there was to be an entertainment in the public theater, and dancing afterwards.