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.
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