Jana, Episode 10

They were all tense. Nina was sent away to the barracks, confused and weeping; the princess was Nina’s life. Sophia would stay behind at the palace.
With a blonde wig of a braid hanging behind her, and in the blue tunic Jana customarily wore on duty, a little stain was all the Queen needed. On horseback, the Queen looked remarkably like Jana.
“Be safe,” the Queen had said, looking Jana in the eye a long time. Then she had tenderly kissed her. “Look after my child!” she had said. Ianthe was in tears, but she embraced her mother bravely, and kissed her.
With a quiver full of arrows, and several knives on her person, the Queen had mounted, and with a single guard at her side, had ridden off south, along the road to the Horse Plains.

“We have a week,” Jana said to the girls.
“I wish I could fight with you!” Sophia said, fiercely.
“We need someone here who knows the plan!” said Ianthe. “If things go wrong, you and Andromache must … improvise!” Fear and determination alternated in Sophia’s eyes.
Jana’s disguise was more difficult. The Queen was very fair and rosy-cheeked. With a dark wig, and her cheeks rouged a little, and her eyes outlined in kohl, she looked startlingly like the Queen from a moderate distance.
“The Queen would ride today,” said Ianthe, seriously. “You should ride!”

The Royal Guard was in on the plan. Jana rode out, dressed as the Queen, surrounded by ten guardsmen. By dint of careful observation, Jana could smile and wave very much like the Queen.
“It was beautiful!” was Andromache’s verdict. “Truly, the Queen did ride today!”
The second day, Ianthe and Sophia hid themselves near the pool, from where they could see ‘The Queen’ return by the shore road.
“There she is!” exclaimed Sophie, whose sharp eyes had seen her first. And sure enough, far away they could barely see the blue livery of the guards. There were a few people on the road, and Ianthe watched amazed as the Queen graciously waved at her subjects, and called a soft greeting.

Later, in bed, Ianthe lay on Jana, looking into her eyes, in her disconcerting way.
“You were my mother!” she exclaimed, softly. “How did you do it?”
“If it had to be done, so could you do it, too!”
But Ianthe shook her head in wonder.
“If you had not flirted with Stefan, we would still be living in terror!”
Jana was unhappy. Though she had indeed acted ill-advisedly on that distant occasion, she felt that Ianthe deserved to have a more accurate account of what had happened.
“It was not flirting, love; I should tell you the story … you are old enough now to understand.”
“Yes, please tell me!”

A while later, Ianthe watched Jana thoughtfully.
“It is so strange,” she said, “to think of him as a male animal … able to penetrate a woman, and … put his seed into her …”
“Or to imagine your mother being bred by your father, or any man!”
Ianthe looked at Jana, troubled. “I take your point,” she said.
“And your mother; can she imagine us lying here, naked, like animals?”
Ianthe rested her cheek on Jana’s breast, as she loved to do.
When Jana had the leisure to think of it, she took great pleasure that, under Ianthe’s adoring hands, Jana’s breasts were beginning to become fuller, more womanly, heavier.
It was usually Ianthe who was the aggressor in bed, who mounted Jana and rode her, until she collapsed, satiated. Their roles had been reversed only a few times, each time Jana leaving Ianthe breathless and shaken. But as they learned each other’s secrets, their love grew. And each prayed to her own gods, that nothing might ever come between them.
There was a soft knock on the door. Ianthe flew to where her discarded shift lay, and pulled it on, as Jana did the same.
“Who is it?”
“It is I, Sophia!”
Jana opened the door. The girl stood in her night clothes, trying to look small.
“What’s the matter, sweet?”
“I feel lonely, and afraid!”
The girl had suffered for two nights, the others not realizing that with the Queen and Nina gone, Sophia was alone at night. From then on, the girls shared Ianthe’s wide bed, but making love was out of the question.

Thanks to all her riding over the recent weeks, the ride to the border was effortless for the Queen. “Just relax,” she had told the guardsman who accompanied her, “nothing’s going to happen to us.” And nothing did.
The Horse People, seeing the one who they took to be their fellow-countrywoman, the legendary Jana, greeted her with grins and cheers. Then their smiles faded, as they realized that it was only a crude disguise.
“It is I, Queen Ione,” she said, breathless. “I must beg a favor from your King!”
It took mere seconds to convinced them of her identity, and in a few seconds more, they were off, racing to the City of the Horse People, with fresh horses for the Queen and her guard.

“A man wants to see the Queen, my Lady!” Sophie blurted out to Jana and Ianthe, who were in the Kitchen.
“Who is it?”
“Master Menelaus, I think, the healer, my Lady!”
“Curses! We can’t say she’s sick!”
“You should go. Tell him that the Queen has heard of the death of a close friend, and is grieving. Take a message!”
Ianthe’s whole bearing changed. In seconds she was the proud, imperious, suspicious royal princess. She sedately walked out to the hall, and paused, inquiringly, her face grave.
“Princess! I have news for the Queen!”
“Is it good news, Master Menelaus?”
“N-no, I’m afraid not, my dear!” Ianthe froze him with a look. “It’s the Duke. He rejects everything!”
Ianthe sagged.
“The Queen … has heard of the death of a childhood friend. May I tell her the news tomorrow? She could send for you?”
“Just tell her, Princess! Send for me if you must! All she can do is kill me!”
Ianthe shook her head. She softly closed the door and stepped into the Hall. There were a few hangers-on; all to the good.
“The Queen … she tires of this plotting and sniping game. What I tell you is secret, you understand?”
“Certainly,” assured Menelaus.
“She and I are riding out, to face the Duke. We are not cowards, Menelaus. For weeks we drilled; knives, the bow, the staff! My mother and I will face them alone! If he is a man, let him come! He can have this throne, but he must kill my mother and me first! Let him learn what it is to fight Ione!”
Menelaus was aghast.
“Isn’t it simpler to attack the Duke, highness? Why sacrifice yourself?”
“No! Then we will be in the wrong! His treachery is yet not proven! It has to be this way!”
“Oh my child! Your beloved mother has been the brightest star this palace has seen; the most just, the most merciful, the most benevolent, after your great father! I cannot bear it; what sad news!” Ianthe hid her surprise at this outpouring of sincere love and admiration for her mother. It was clear that she hardly knew Menelaus. “Let me only speak to her!”
“Tomorrow, Menelaus … but I am determined to make her do this. The Duke watches our every move. He will come, and then it is in the open. I welcome it!”
The words were not all an act. Ianthe was bitter, and thoughts of death were not strangers to her. In her opinion, it was better to die than to live in fear. She could not blame the guards; she would either end this threat, or die trying.
Nodding gravely to the others in the hall, Ianthe softly closed the door, and rejoined her companions.

“Oh, Princess!” whispered Sophia, “Her Majesty -- if she could only have heard those words!” She was crying, tears of admiration pouring down her cheeks.
“I meant every one,” Ianthe gritted out.
“What if he comes alone?” asked Jana, who had heard it all.
“Then I will face him! It would not be fair if you fought him. I would gladly face him. I have my knives!”

The next day, Master Menelaus showed up, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes, and behind him, to Ianthe’s astonishment, stood a vast host of citizens, spreading all the way to the walls. Guards stood along the walls, outside and in the palace, trying not to look alarmed.
Ianthe only paused an instant. Herding Menelaus before her, she climbed onto the lowest steps of the dais of the throne.
“Fellow-citizens,” she said, “the Queen is in seclusion, preparing to meet an enemy, a personal enemy, and an enemy of the people. We have been attacked with poison, and cowardly arrows. If we succeed, all will be well. If we fail, it becomes your responsibility to destroy the traitor! We know we carry your good will with us. Go to your homes with good cheer! Truth will win, and greed will reap its bitter reward! The gods bless you all!”

“We can’t keep this up; we must go!”
“No! From the border to the City of the Horse People takes four days, and four days back: eight days! It’s only been five days since the Queen left! We must wait another three!”

Jana, Episode 9

The girls took Penelope down to the pool, and tried to distract her. The Queen sent for her advisors, and they talked until late. A courier was dispatched to the Duke with an offer to sub-contract the responsibility of maintaining the roads at a fair rate of remuneration. On the other hand, her advisors pointed out, Ione’s roads benefited all surrounding countries; it might be appropriate to levy a modest tariff on commercial traffic through the kingdom, and use the revenue to fund the forces, public works, and other undertakings that were becoming increasingly urgent. “But it is possible the Duke will not desist,” said the advisers.
Jane disengaged herself with some difficulty from the emotional Penelope, leaving her to the ministrations of Ianthe and Sophia. She headed over to the barracks, looking for Andromache, and was told where she was stationed: at the postern gate on the East Wall.
After a quick, delighted greeting, Andromache went back to watching the street and the wall.
“Andromache, … are you loyal to the Queen?” Jana asked.
“Yes,” she replied, without hesitation. “We all are, Jana. The Guard is loyal. It was not treachery, but negligence that caused the breach in security. We must do better!”
“Andromache… we have discovered the source of the plot to poison the Queen.”
“Who was it?” exclaimed Andromache, eagerly.
“Ultimately…the Duke of the Western Province!”
“By the gods!” she swore. “May his bones rot! Let him come and face me, the dog! Poison! Pah, what a filthy, cowardly weapon!” Andromache was furious. But she never once took her eyes off the street.

The Queen was greatly cheered to receive Andromache’s visit and her words of loyalty, when she came off duty. The Queen seldom had an opportunity to hear the feelings of the Royal Guard, and it gave her courage. She told the fierce young woman so.
“You fill me with admiration, my Queen!” said Andromache. “This threat to you fills me with the lust to murder! But if it had been myself who was threatened, very likely … I would have killed myself. Who can live like this?”
“Not I,” said the Queen in a terrible voice. “Sometimes I think to step down from the throne, and let my cousin, the Duke have it!” They gasped. “Other times, I think to go quietly --or loudly-- to some public place, and let them come and kill me. It’s me they want; and not the rest of you, after all.”
“Oh, wonderful. Give the land to robbers and thieves!” Ianthe was furious, in her turn, and mother and daughter glared at each other, idealism against despair. “I would take my knives and go to the top of the hill, and let them come and get me! At least I would go down fighting the cowards!”
“Child,” snapped the Queen, “your knife-throwing skill has gone to your head! This is your fault!” she added, turning to glare at Jana.
But she was surprised to see Jana lost in thought.
“Wait … I have an idea … if only …”
It took a while for Ianthe to leave her anger and her misplaced scorn for her mother, whom she dearly loved, and realize that perhaps Jana had a useful idea.
“What is it?” demanded Andromache. She was of good birth, and less intimidated by the irate Queen than the rest of them.
“Jana?” prompted Ianthe.
“If only … my Lady, if there was, say, some remote place --a cabin, or lodge, that must be sacrificed, possibly-- where you could go! We could let it out that you are going there, all alone, with, say, only her highness, and a maid. Daring all your enemies!”
“Yes, and die like a dog! That’s a novel idea. I thought of it first, if you were listening.”
“Only, my Lady, it will be not you, but me! As well, we will send word … but what’s the use? I haven’t heard of such a place …”
“Why, we have a lodge, indeed, in the high woods!” Ianthe’s eyes were wide with pride and excitement. “And we could send word to the Horse People, to set an ambush! Oh, beautiful!”
“Tell me this again!” demanded the Queen.

The plan gradually took shape. Of course it was bold and desperate. It entailed Jana visiting the cabin, masquerading as the Queen, and the Queen riding to the Horse People, masquerading as Jana. The Queen was of the opinion that Andromache was more her build and coloring, which was true. But Jana was more able to look after herself in a fight, if it came to that. Every Monday, Jana joined the Royal Guard for arms drill, and she was generally acknowledged to be an excellent fighter, unmatched for her speed and skill.
Finally the Queen was persuaded. “I cannot pretend,” she admitted, “I am fearful. For me, and for you, too.”
“Jana can teach you to fight, mother!”
The Queen’s eyes flashed. “Don’t presume to advise, me, child,” she warned. “I could shoot an arrow, and run like the wind! After giving birth to you, pah! I’m a shadow of the woman I was … I was no shrinking violet.”

Yet, the next day, she was at the practice court, dressed in a brief tunic.
“Once I was beautiful, Jana!” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “Now,” she shrugged, indicating her chubby legs.
“If you could shoot an arrow, Lady, you need only the strength back!”
“Give me a bow,” demanded the Queen. She cursed, finding herself unable to draw the bow she wanted. Finally, she drew one, and got her second shot in the center of the target, to the admiration of Jana and her daughter. All morning she tried better bows, until by lunchtime she could shoot a bow that could be carried a-horseback.
“I am easily tired,” the Queen complained, after lunch. “What shall I do to gain endurance?”
“You must learn to ride, anyway,” Jana pointed out, “and riding builds endurance.”
The Queen was off immediately.
Ianthe was delighted with her new, active mother.
Like Ianthe, Ione was born to ride. A bay like Jana’s own was found for her, and the Queen and the horse made friends at once. Ione was an intelligent and considerate rider, and once she had lost her stiffness, her joy showed clear on her face --Jana especially delighted in watching the mother and daughter racing each other along country roads.
Often the Queen would dismount, seeing a gathering of people, or a family of ducks on a pond, or youths playing in a field, and smile and talk with them. Returning home, she said it was as if a new life had begun for her.
“I want more!” she told Jana, who suggested the quarterstaff, and knife-throwing.
“The quarterstaff strengthens the arms, my Lady, and the knife …”
“Yes, yes, you are right! Let’s begin!”
What the Queen did, Ianthe must also do. A bow and a staff were found for her, and she went through the drills by her mother’s side. At night, both mother and daughter groaned with unaccustomed pain, and Jana rubbed oil and ointments into their arms, sharing their pain with them.

The winter brought heavy rains, and one day the Queen almost abandoned her planned ride with Ianthe, Jana and three guards. Suddenly the rain stopped, and the Queen decided to ride. She rode in front, despite their advice that it was better for her to ride in the middle of the little group.
Half an hour into the ride, an arrow narrowly missed the Queen, and embedded itself in Jana’s boiled-leather armor. With a yell, Jana galloped towards the source of the arrow. Far away, horses and riders were seen fleeing from the site of the attack, and Jana gave chase. But the riders headed back to the city, and Jana lost them.
The others were astonished at the fury on Jana’s face. “I lost them, I lost them!” she cursed, throwing the arrow on the ground and grinding her teeth.
“It is time,” said the Queen, grimly. “Wigs. We need wigs!”
[Next installment: Episode 10]
K

Jana, Episode 8

That night, Ianthe shyly asked Jana to sleep in her room. Neither girl was able to get much sleep that night. Ianthe awoke in the morning, and came to kneel near the pallet of the young foreign girl, and looked solemnly down into Jana’s eyes.
“What shall we do? My heart aches for love of you!”
Jana slowly nodded, her face grave. Love was like a sweet pain inside her. “That’s because it’s still new,” she said, from some wisdom inside her.
“Let us kneel here, and pledge our love forever!” said Ianthe, urgently.
Ianthe made Jana kneel facing her, as bride and bridegroom traditionally did at a marriage among Ianthe’s people.
“I, Ianthe, pledge to thee, Jana, my love, and promise to keep thee, and all of thine, safe in my care, until my life’s end!”
Jana was speechless with shock. “You have taught me something,” Jana said, deeply moved, her eyes bright with tears.
“You need to pledge nothing,” said Ianthe, softly, “I know your heart!”
Taking a deep breath, Jana began.
“I Jana, pledge to you, my Princess Ianthe, my life, to love and protect you and yours, as long as I live.”
They kissed, long and tenderly, to seal their pledge to each other, but it was a chaste kiss, because it was not a time for lust.
“Let’s go fix breakfast,” Jana said, sounding subdued.

There was a dream-like quality to those first few days. There was much to learn: how to behave towards each other, both in private and in public, whether to touch, or give loving looks; to conceal their new relationship from all, most of all the Queen; how their new relationship affected their feelings towards their friends, such as Andromache and Penelope, and Sophia, and little Nina.
Nina was not only innocent, but simple. Out of an irrational belief that the child’s life would be brief, Ianthe had felt a special tenderness towards the little girl. However, as the lady daughter of the Queen, she had cultivated a certain aloofness towards the servants. Those who knew her saw through this, but it restricted their behavior nonetheless.
Since the cooks had died, though, and Jana had assumed supervision of the kitchen, their attitude towards Nina was more openly affectionate, as Jana’s had always been. Now, with her heart newly tender with her new love, Ianthe found it a sweet puzzle as to how to moderate her love towards Nina. Sophia, in contrast, was keenly intelligent and observant. Fortunately she was also fiercely loyal to Ianthe.
It was up to Jana, Ianthe and Nina to make breakfast; Sophia was also the Queen’s personal maid, and they did not expect her down to help. But Ione was a sensible woman, and did not burden Sophia with frivolities, and so the young maid often did come down to help prepare breakfast, for the sheer joy of the shared company in the kitchen.

Penelope was a complex problem for Ianthe. “She’s very intelligent, and loyal,” said Ianthe to Jana privately, with the air of a much older woman speaking indulgently of a mere child. “But she is fascinated by you, Jana; I wouldn’t be surprised if she had, well … feelings for you!”
“What can we do?” Jana asked, quietly. No problem was too small for tender-hearted Jana to consider seriously.
“Nothing,” said Ianthe, slumping. “I used to be jealous, because I considered you my personal … that I owned you, in a childish way,” she explained, blushing. Jana nodded, as always startled by not only Ianthe’s mind, but her skill at explaining ideas. “But now that … you’re mine--far more than before, at least-- I don’t feel so jealous … I’m sure I could see her lust after you, and endure it.”
“I’m fond of her, too,” Jana said seriously. “Don’t be jealous or envious.”
Ianthe nodded. “That’s your way, and that’s why I love you!”
“Because I’m fond of Penelope?”
“Because you have a large heart!”
Jana studied her. “You love me, and so you think I am perfect!”
“No. I know you better than anyone. Even if I hated you, I would know how big-hearted you are!”
Their conversations often had this abstract flavor, because Ianthe was fascinated by the logic of love: what was it; how did it change people, and so on.

But Penelope’s case became not so abstract very soon. She was dropped off in her family coach unexpectedly one afternoon, and they saw her hurrying into the kitchen where the Queen was eating her noon meal. She was always allowed free access to the palace, and at first they were not alarmed to see her. But they soon saw that she looked stricken. She knelt at Ione’s feet.
“What’s the matter, Penelope? Are you in trouble?”
“Oh, my Lady! My parents! My mother!” she began to weep.
“What is wrong? Can I help? Is she ill?”
“No, no! O Queen, it is she! She’s the one trying to p-poison you! I p-pretended that you had asked me to c-come s-wim in the p-pool, and I have c-come to tell you! Oh please, don’t be harsh with her, I beg you!”

Ione had lost her regal air of late. Jana brought a chair and helped the quivering Penelope into it, and Ianthe brought her a drink. Ione was a picture of consternation.
“What exactly did you hear, Penelope? Let me judge for myself how serious this is!”
Penelope calmed herself down with an effort. She had heard her mother say that poison was too difficult, now with that ‘foreign girl’ cooking for the Queen. She had washed her hands of it. Her last words had been, ‘Leave me out of it.’
“Oh, my beloved Alethea, … how could you?” the Queen murmured, her eyes closed. It was too much for Penelope, who huddled into a miserable ball and sobbed. Jana knelt by her, murmuring words of comfort to her, after which she exchanged glances with Ianthe.
“Don’t cry,” Ianthe said, coming to her friend. “We’re all alive, thanks to you… and we’ll know we need to fear poison, at least, no longer!”
“But my mother!” wailed Penelope. “What will become of her?”
“That’s between me and her, dear; once I understand her motives, we can get to the bottom of this nightmare. Penelope, we’re all deeply grateful for your courage in warning us, child. It was frightening, not knowing why there was such determination to do away with us all!”

“Mother! I think I know it!” cried Ianthe. Everyone turned to the excited young princess.
With clear logic, Ianthe traced the influence and the motives. It ultimately led to the Duke of the small province to the west, a cousin of Ione herself. He had a claim to the throne, as well as a grudge against the Queen for abolishing tolls on all roads maintained by her, including tolls on the Great West Road, crucial to the economy of the land, but a great loss of revenue for the Duke. On careful reflection, it had to be admitted that this was the obvious motive, now clear in retrospect.
[Next installment: Episode 9]
K