When Women Were Warriors

Book I: The Warrior’s Path

Chapter 11: Battle

The next morning Sparrow woke me at first light. The thong around my wrist felt lifeless. I glanced at Maara’s bed and was relieved to see that she was in it. She was awake and sitting up. The thong was no longer around her wrist.

“We leave in a few minutes,” Sparrow said.

I was still gathering my wits together. “Who?”

“Vintel is taking half a hundred warriors to the ravine,” she said. “Eramet is going, and she’s taking me with her.” I heard the pride in her voice, that she had been asked to go.

“Take care,” I told her.

“I will.” Sparrow touched my cheek. She hesitated a moment, then leaned over me and lightly kissed my lips.

***

The day was stormy. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, bringing squalls of driving rain. Our warriors would have an uncomfortable journey, and when they reached the ravine, they would find little shelter there. Ox-drawn wagons followed them carrying tents and supplies, but they traveled more slowly than the warriors, who would have to camp for at least one night in the open.

I worried about Sparrow. I also envied her. This encounter with the enemy would not be just a skirmish with a raiding party. If the northerners carried out their plan, there would be a battle when they came across the river. I wished I could be there to see it.

Maara was silent all day. I soon gave up trying to get her to talk with me. She would make some reply, but she was distracted, and her mind wandered. I had forgotten neither her hunger nor her weariness. I fed her until she complained I was going to make her sick. She was too restless to sleep, so I took her downstairs, where we could enjoy the warmth of the fire in the great hall. Even with so many of the warriors gone, there was a crowd gathered by the hearth. We found a quiet corner, where we sat for several hours listening to scraps of other people’s conversations.

When the servants set out the tables for the evening meal, Maara stood up. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “Stay and eat.” Then she went upstairs.

At supper the companions were so full of talk they forgot that not long before they hadn’t known what to say to me. Some complained that their warriors had not been asked to join Vintel. Others hoped they might be sent out to the farms along our northern border. It was the first I’d heard of plans to send warriors out to the farms. The Lady was guarding against every possibility.

Some of the companions questioned me, thinking that my warrior must have told me all about her journey north. I had to tell them I knew no more than they did, but I don’t think they believed me.

After supper I went to Maara’s room and found her asleep. The thong was around her wrist.

***

The longest fortnight of my life went by. Then one morning I awoke to find Maara standing at the window, gazing out at the first snowfall of winter. I got out of bed and joined her, and she stepped back so that I could stand in front of her, to watch the world turn white. Snowflakes wafted gently down in the still air. Sometimes the lightest breath of wind would send a flurry of them dancing for a moment before they drifted down again. I remembered how silent winter is.

When we went downstairs, I felt the tension in the air. Everyone knew that the northerners had chosen the first snowfall as the time to carry out their plan. There was nothing to do but wait for word of whatever might happen, but today there were more whispered conversations, more furtive glances at my warrior, more sudden silences when we approached, than there had been since she returned to Merin’s house.

The Lady kept to her chamber. Every morning messengers left the household, going both north and south, and every evening the messengers who had left the day before returned with news. From time to time a warrior or an elder would be summoned to the Lady’s chamber, but she never asked for me, and I never asked to see her.

We all knew that, even if the northerners had crossed the river, word wouldn’t reach us until the next day. All the same, no one could do anything but wait. After breakfast people lingered at the tables, reluctant to leave the hall. An older man whose name I didn’t know picked nervously at his fingernails. His brow was furrowed with worry, and when the man next to him made an offhand remark I couldn’t hear, he gave him a sharp answer. One of the younger warriors furrowed her brow with impatience. She could not sit still, and her fidgeting annoyed her neighbors.

Fet and Fodla sat at a table near the kitchen. Fet gazed into her bowl of tea, while Fodla carried on several conversations at once with the people around her.

I thought everyone might sit like that all day. At last one of the men got up and said, “I’m going to have a look around. Who’ll come with me?” and several of the men got up and left with him. After that, the people drifted in and out of the great hall. No one wanted to be too far away in case something happened, but the waiting set their nerves on edge.

Maara touched my arm and stood up. I was getting up to follow her when I heard a man’s voice speak loudly enough to be heard by all the people in the hall.

“Not much longer now,” he said. “Soon enough we’ll know what this stranger has brought upon us.”

It was the man who had looked so worried. When Maara turned to face him, he stood up.

I was furious.

“Soon enough you’ll owe her more than just an apology,” I told him.

“Hush,” my warrior said.

Fodla got to her feet.

“Sit down, Lorin,” she said, “and hold your tongue. We may soon have enough to do without also fighting among ourselves.”

Lorin sat down.

***

It snowed all day. In the short winter twilight, I watched from Maara’s window as blue shadows deepened quickly into black and a few stars twinkled out between the clouds. I loved the coming of winter. My mother used to tell me it was because I had been born in wintertime and my first glimpse of the world was still hidden deep inside my eyes.

“Close the shutter,” Maara said, “before you catch your death.”

She was sitting up in bed, huddled under a blanket. I put the shutter up.

Nothing is more tiring than waiting. Worry had worn me out, but my thoughts would not be still, and I lay awake for a long time. Winter had come, and we should have been preparing for the celebration of midwinter’s night, looking forward to the feasting and merrymaking, the singing and storytelling. Instead many of our people were making a cold bed in their winter camp while we waited anxiously for news.

***

My warrior and I were sitting in the great hall when a messenger arrived at midmorning. He spoke to no one, but went directly to the Lady’s chamber.

Maara tugged at my sleeve and gestured to me to follow her. She found us another place to sit, by the hallway that led to the kitchen. She leaned toward me and said in a low voice, “If we hear bad news, run into the armory and bar the door.” When I opened my mouth to object, she frowned and shook her head.

Word traveled quickly in that household, and soon everyone had gathered in the great hall. We waited in silence to hear the news the messenger had brought. At last the Lady came out to speak to us. She came halfway down the stairs and looked out over the assembled crowd.

“Where is Maara?” she said.

All eyes turned toward us. Everyone knew where we were.

“Come forward,” she said.

Maara stood up and went to the foot of the stairs.

“We are in your debt,” the Lady told her. To the people in the hall she said, “Yesterday everything happened as this woman said it would. Hidden by the snowfall, warriors of the northern tribes crossed the river. Our warriors too were hidden by the snowfall, and they captured the boats of the northerners as they came across. After a dozen boats made the crossing, we had taken two score of their warriors. No more came. We may have captured all of them, or perhaps the rest awaited a signal that it was safe for them to cross, or perhaps they had no more boats. Some of our warriors will remain there until the river starts to freeze, but most of them will be here this evening, and their prisoners with them.”

She paused. For the briefest moment, all were silent. Then everyone began to speak at once. Lorin came forward to stand at the foot of the stairs.

“Lady,” he called up to her. “Has anyone been hurt?”

The Lady looked down at him.

“My son is with them,” he said.

“Two of our warriors were wounded,” said the Lady. “Neither of them is your son.”

The people grew quiet again when she mentioned the wounded.

“Breda has a head wound,” she said. “Eramet was struck in the side by an arrow. One of the wagons will bring them home.”

That afternoon many of the warriors sought Maara out to thank her for the warning she had brought us. No one apologized for having doubted her. It was prudent of them to doubt her, but once her loyalty was proven, their gratitude was sincere. Lorin gave me a little smile as he made an elaborate apology to my warrior for his hasty words the day before. I will admit that I enjoyed hearing it.

***

It was late that afternoon when we heard that our returning warriors were in sight. Maara put on her armor and took up her sword and shield. When we went downstairs, I saw that the other warriors had also armed themselves. Even a few of the apprentices bore arms.

“Why does everyone look like they’re going into battle?” I asked Maara.

“To show the enemy our strength,” she said.

With the others we went outside the earthworks to wait. The air was clear and cold, and we saw in the distance, dark against the snowy landscape, the column of weary warriors coming home. Though they were still far away, the trees that lined the road were leafless now and could not conceal them.

The younger men hurried ahead of the others. When they started up the hill, the waiting warriors drew their swords and beat them upon the leather covers of their shields, a steady marching cadence to lighten the steps of the men trudging up the hill.

When they reached us, cups of ale were brought out to them. They were eager to tell everyone about the battle, but they all spoke at once, and each one told only what had happened to him and to his comrades beside him. I gave up trying to make sense of all their stories. When they ran out of listeners, they went indoors to warm themselves before the fire.

The rest of our warriors, encumbered by their prisoners, were still far away. Namet came and stood beside me. She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered into the distance.

“What do you see, child, with your young eyes?” she said. “I can hardly make them out.”

The glare of sunlight on the snow made my eyes water, and I was having trouble seeing them myself.

“There’s a large group of them, all walking close together,” I told her. “They seem to be bound together, so I suppose those are the prisoners. Our warriors are behind them.”

“Are there any wagons?”

“No, Mother.”

She must be thinking of the wounded. Then I thought about the similarity of her name and Eramet’s.

“Is Eramet kin to you?” I asked her.

“Eramet is my daughter,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry she was hurt.”

Namet slipped her arm around my shoulders. Tears glistened in her eyes that were not from looking at the snow.

As the prisoners drew near, I saw that they were loosely bound with rope that looped around their upper arms and behind their backs. When they reached the bottom of the hill, our warriors again drew their swords. This time they didn’t beat a marching cadence. They pounded on their shields and raised their voices in a battle cry. Their breath hung like smoke in the cold air. The voices of the men deepened the cry into a roar. It was a dreadful sound.

The din continued until our warriors and their prisoners had climbed the hill and stood before us. I was amazed to see that almost all the prisoners were men. I saw only two women among them, though they might have been beardless boys. All of them wore tunics and trousers of fur or skins that gave them a ragged look. Long hair straggled out from under their fur caps. They had no boots. Their feet were wrapped in skins bound about their feet and legs with leather thongs. Although their beards hid their faces, I could see that their cheeks were hollow and their faces gaunt. They were taken to the men’s house, where a place had been made for them in the common room.

For several hours the healer kept me busy. There were no serious wounds to tend among our own warriors, only some slight cuts and bruises and a little frostbite. A few who were feverish with winter sickness were warmed and put to bed. If any of the prisoners needed tending, it was not our place to do it. They would have to tend their own or do without.

***

Long after the household had gone to bed, I waited. Maara waited with me, although I had told her more than once to go on to bed. We sat together by the embers of the fire in the great hall. Namet had gone up to her room, but I doubted she was asleep.

Sparrow hadn’t come home with the warriors. I didn’t expect her to. She would be with Eramet.

“They may have stopped for the night,” Maara said.

“They won’t stop,” I said. “They’ll bring her home.”

I heard the groaning of axles and the tread of oxen’s feet when they were halfway up the hill. By the time they drove the wagon in through the cattle gate, Maara and I were waiting for them. The night air was so cold it made my eyes ache. When the wagon stopped, we pulled back the covering of oxhide that was stretched between the high sideboards of the wagon. A young warrior and his companion sat behind the driver. The warrior’s head was wrapped in a bloody bandage, but he seemed to be already on the mend.

At first I saw no one else. Maara brought a torch, and when she lowered it closer to the wagon bed, I saw them. On a pile of empty grain sacks, Sparrow lay with Eramet in her arms. She looked up at me. Her eyes were wild.

“She died,” she said.

The wagon driver got down from his seat and pulled the tailboard off the wagon. I jumped in and knelt down next to Sparrow. I touched Eramet’s face. It was as cold as the night air.

“Come inside,” I said.

Sparrow didn’t move. I felt Maara get into the wagon. She knelt beside me and tried to lift Eramet, but Sparrow’s arms tightened around her and wouldn’t let her go.

“We have to get you both inside,” I said.

I don’t think Sparrow heard or understood me. She was very cold. She had been lying with Eramet’s body in her arms for half the night, and Eramet’s blood had frozen on her clothing.

Maara handed me the torch and moved behind Sparrow, so that she could slip her hands under Sparrow’s arms and lift her away from Eramet. She set her by the tailboard of the wagon and jumped out. Then she took Sparrow up in her arms and carried her into the house.

There was no doubt that Eramet was dead. Her arms and legs had begun to stiffen. Her skin was white and hard, and a dusting of frost lay over her hair and eyebrows. There was nothing I could do for her, so I went inside, to do what I could for Sparrow. Maara had set her down on the hearthstone and was building up the fire.

“We need to warm her,” she said.

I brought a wooden tub from the laundry room and set it by the hearth. While I brought in buckets of warm water to fill it, Maara got Sparrow out of her frozen clothing. We put her in the tub and poured water over her until she was warm again. Then Maara carried her upstairs.

I stayed behind to clean up the mess we’d made. When I went upstairs, I found Maara in Eramet’s room. She had put Sparrow into Eramet’s bed and was standing in the doorway looking like she didn’t quite know what to do. Sparrow lay on her side facing the wall, with both arms over her head as if to ward off a blow. She was making a soft keening sound.

Maara said in a low voice close to my ear, “I’ll go see to Eramet,” and left the room.

I didn’t know what to do for Sparrow. I sat with her a while. Then I took off my boots and trousers and slipped into the bed beside her.

I put my arms around her, to warm and comfort her. Soon her keening stopped, and she fell asleep.

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