When Women Were Warriors
Book I: The Warrior’s Path
Chapter 18: Vintel
All I remember of that day was the cold bath. They insisted on washing me with cold water. They washed me there outdoors, where Maara had put me down on the frozen ground. After the bath, she put me to bed, and I slept through most of that day and night. Sometimes she woke me to give me something to eat or drink. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I slept, but I didn’t dream.
The next morning Namet came to see me. Although I had been awake since dawn, I didn’t feel like moving. Maara must also have been awake, because she got up right away when Namet came into the room. Namet knelt down beside me. She searched my eyes and touched my face and hands.
“How do you feel?” she asked me.
“Fine,” I said, “but I’m not sure I can stand up.”
“Like a newborn child,” she said, “you have just set your feet on a new path. You’ll find your legs soon enough.”
Namet stood up and moved aside so that Maara could help me up out of bed. She had me sit down on her bed while she and Namet dressed me. Then we went downstairs. We all three broke our fast together. It felt strange to me to sit with the two of them, a warrior and an elder, at the same table, but it was a sign to everyone that I was now a warrior’s apprentice.
After breakfast the three of us settled ourselves by the fire in the great hall. Although I was still tired, I didn’t feel like sleeping. I had begun to remember what had happened to me, and I wanted to try to understand. I remembered the beings in the air, but I couldn’t remember the stories they had told me or the songs they’d sung to me.
“May I ask you something, Mother?” I said to Namet.
“Of course, child,” she replied.
“Maara told me I should speak of what happened only to someone who was there.”
“Yes,” said Namet, “and you should speak of it as little as possible.”
“Why?”
“Because what happened can’t be spoken of. No one can tell you what it means. No one else can know that.”
“How can I understand it then?”
“What is it you feel you need to understand?”
“There are things I can’t remember,” I said. “Songs were sung to me, and stories were told to me, and I can’t remember any of them.”
“Your spirit remembers,” Namet said. “From time to time you may remember something. Each memory will come to you when you need it, or perhaps you won’t remember, but you’ll know what to do without knowing how you know.”
Namet’s words reassured me. I already knew that there was a voice within me wiser than my understanding. When I chose Maara over Vintel, I didn’t know how I knew it was the right thing for me to do, but I could not have chosen otherwise. It made sense to me that the part of me that had heard the warrior songs would remember them and would help me to act from the wisdom that was in them.
“What will happen now?” I asked.
“What you were is gone,” said Namet. “You have declared your intention to become a warrior. You can’t go back to being what you were before. The path you’ve chosen will take everything you can bring to it, and death may be the price of failure.”
I didn’t know whether the feeling in my stomach was fear or excitement.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“No,” said Maara. “You will do whatever is necessary.”
***
That evening Sparrow found me in my warrior’s room. Maara was still downstairs with Namet. She had seen me nodding and sent me up to bed.
Sparrow handed me a linen shirt. It was the same shirt I had cut out, but it was finished. It was beautifully done. The stitching was tight and even, and the sleeves had been perfectly set. I couldn’t have done it half as well.
“When did you do this?” I asked her.
“Last night,” she said. “It didn’t take long.”
“It would have taken me weeks.”
“You mean it would have taken you weeks to get around to it.”
I laughed. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
She smiled at me. “I’m glad you like it.”
We looked at each other for a moment. Then I took her face in my hand and kissed her.
***
I woke up feeling well and rested. As I often did, I woke before my warrior, and while I waited for her to wake, I thought about all that had happened since midwinter’s night. Only three nights had passed since I watched Maara’s face as she sat with Namet among the other warriors. Even then, the fear that she might leave me had cast a shadow over my heart. Now I was her apprentice, bound to her, as she was bound to me, by ties that would be difficult to break. I hardly understood how it had happened.
A little flame of happiness kindled in my breast. I let it grow. Only a few days before I wouldn’t have indulged it. I hadn’t dared to be too happy. I had been afraid that something would go wrong, but surely nothing bad could happen now.
I was too happy to lie still. I got up and dressed without waking Maara. I went downstairs and out the back door.
Dark clouds gathered in the eastern sky, and the rising sun turned them as red as blood. The beauty of the sunrise touched my heart. The beauty of the world around me reflected my happiness back to me. I went outside the earthworks so that I could have an unobstructed view. A gusting wind blew out of the northeast, carrying winter’s hard and bitter scent.
I heard a sound behind me. I smiled. Maara must have been awake after all and followed me. I turned to greet her. It was Vintel. I was too surprised to speak, and a fear I didn’t understand prickled along my backbone.
“Have you not the manners to say good morning?”
Vintel smiled at me, but her smile never reached her eyes.
“Good morning,” I said.
“You rise early.”
“Yes.”
“Earlier than your warrior.”
“Sometimes.”
She looked me up and down.
“You’re very small,” she said.
She looked at me as she would have looked at a fish she’d caught that was too small to keep. Her look made me feel small.
“Merin can be persuasive,” she said. “I think your foolishness has saved me from making an unfortunate mistake.”
I had no time to think about her strange remark. She was still smiling, a sly and dangerous smile. When I first saw her, she was standing at least ten paces from me. Now she drew closer, her steps slow and deliberate, as a wolf approaches a sheep that it has brought to bay. I resisted the urge to back away from her.
“I see that you’re also a thief,” she said.
What in the world could she be talking about?
“I am not a thief.”
Her eyes went to my belt. “Then how did you come by that brooch of Eramet’s?”
“It was a gift.”
“A gift? Who gave you such a costly gift? I think that Eramet did not.”
“No.”
She waited for me to tell her who had given me the brooch. I said nothing. I didn’t want to cause Sparrow any trouble with Vintel, but there was another reason I didn’t speak. Whether or not Vintel believed I’d stolen the brooch, the accusation was a deliberate insult, meant to humiliate me. An angry little flame began to burn inside my chest.
“If you can’t name the giver of the gift,” she said, “then I must believe that you took it from Eramet’s things when I sent you for her grave goods.”
“I did not,” I said.
A sudden gust of wind blew something into my eye. I ignored it. I didn’t want Vintel to think she’d made me cry.
“I gave that brooch to Eramet,” she said. “It should have come back to me. Give it to me now, and I’ll say no more about it.”
She reached out her hand. I didn’t move. I knew that I should give her the brooch, that once I’d given in her pride would be satisfied, but I couldn’t do it. I was too angry.
“You truly are a fool,” she said. She took another step toward me. “In that case, I’ll take back what belongs to me and whip the puppy that ran off with it.”
It was not her words that frightened me. It was her eyes. She was so close now that it was no use trying to run away, even if I could trust my legs to carry me.
Vintel saw my fear, and she enjoyed it. I braced myself to endure what was about to happen.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Vintel saw it too. She turned in time to see my warrior step out from behind a stone wall that reinforced the earthworks. Maara’s hair lay loose over her shoulders, and the gusting wind whipped it across her face. She tossed it back with a motion of her head that looked like a challenge.
“Whose puppy were you going to whip?” she asked Vintel.
“I believe it’s yours. Would you prefer to whip it yourself?”
“What has she done?”
“She stole a brooch.”
“I don’t think so,” said Maara.
“How did she come by it, then?”
“Perhaps I gave it to her.”
“So,” Vintel said. “You are the thief.”
Maara smiled. “Will you accuse me before the household, or do you only insult people privately?”
Vintel opened her mouth, but she had no answer.
“Have you run out of insults already?” Maara said.
Vintel shut her mouth and glared at Maara. She grasped the hilt of her sword, but before she could draw it from its sheath, my warrior’s body changed, like the body of a hunting cat that spies its prey. Vintel hesitated.
“Yes,” said Maara. Her voice was low, and it vibrated with controlled anger. “Draw your sword. My sword has been hungry for your blood since you let mine be shed.”
Although she wore no armor, my warrior’s sword hung from her belt. For a time that seemed very long to me, she and Vintel faced each other.
Vintel’s knuckles went white as she grasped the hilt of her sword, but she made no move to draw it.
“What’s this?”
It was a man’s voice, coming from somewhere above our heads. I looked up and saw Lorin standing atop the earthworks.
“Is there going to be fight?” he said. He squatted down and looked at them appraisingly. “Vintel is bigger, but I think the stranger may be more angry. If you’re going to fight, why not come back inside? It would be a shame for a good fight to go to waste.”
“I don’t intend to fight for your amusement,” Vintel replied. Then she faced my warrior. “Don’t tempt me again.” She turned on her heel and went back inside the earthworks.
Maara looked up at Lorin and gave him half a smile. I glanced at him just in time to see him wink back at her.
“Come,” Maara said to me, and started down the hill.
“A storm is coming,” I said, as I followed her.
“We’ll go back inside in a little while. Let’s give Vintel time to control herself.”
We walked in silence until we reached the river. The memory of Vintel’s contempt and my own fear followed me, and my cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. I thought of several things I wished I’d said to Vintel now that it was too late. I hoped Maara would think it was the cold wind that was making my eyes water and my cheeks red.
Maara brushed the snow off the trunk of a fallen tree and sat down on it. She made room for me, and I sat down beside her. I wondered how she felt about her confrontation with Vintel. She was gazing at the river. She didn’t seem to be at all upset.
“Soon our warriors will return from the ravine,” she said.
“What?”
“Look. The river has begun to freeze.”
I stared at her in amazement. How could she be thinking about the river? Had she forgotten about Vintel?
“Aren’t you angry?”
She turned and looked at me. “No. Why should I be?”
“Vintel insulted you.”
“Did she?”
“She called you a thief.” My heart burned with the injustice of it.
“Yes,” Maara said. “I suppose she did.” She drew her legs up onto the log and turned until she sat cross-legged, facing me. She gave me a long look. “You’re angry.”
“Of course I am.”
“Why?”
How could she fail to understand something so obvious?
“Because Vintel insulted you. And she insulted me.”
I turned away from her as I blinked back tears.
“What did she say to you?”
“She said I was small.”
“You are small.” Her reply took me aback. “Why were you insulted by the truth?”
“It was the way she said it,” I told her. “It was meant to be an insult. And she called me a thief, too.”
“Are you a thief?”
“No.”
“So you felt insulted by something that was true and by something that was not true.”
“I suppose so.” I didn’t understand what she was getting at.
“Why do you care about Vintel’s opinion?”
“I don’t!” I said. “I don’t care what she thinks!”
“Of course you do. Why else would you be angry?”
I couldn’t think of a good answer.
“Shall I tell you why?” she said.
I nodded.
“Because you didn’t know you had a choice.”
“What choice?”
“To be angry or not.”
It was the silliest thing I’d ever heard. “That’s not a choice.”
“Yes,” she said. “It is.” She waited patiently for me to understand.
“How could that be a choice? When someone insults me, it makes me angry.”
“If that’s true, then your feelings will always be at the mercy of others.”
That had never occurred to me.
“Oh,” I said.
In Maara’s face I saw no sign of anger.
“Did you choose not to be angry at Vintel?”
“I didn’t think about it. I was too busy trying to keep something bad from happening.”
“Is that how you kept from being angry?”
“No,” she said. “I wasn’t angry. It took me a long time to learn that I didn’t have to feel what someone wanted me to feel, but once I learned it, it became a habit. It’s a useful habit. Because I wasn’t angry, I was able to think clearly about what was the best thing to do.”
She saw that I was still confused.
“Think,” she said. “A short time ago we were in a difficult situation, one that could have turned out very badly. Now we’re safe and sound sitting here by the river. What happened to bring that about?”
“Lorin showed up.”
“Think back a little further.”
Then I knew, and the memory of her words to Vintel chilled me.
“You challenged her,” I said.
“No,” she said. “Vintel challenged me. She put her hand on her sword, and I tried to convince her that she was doing what I wanted her to do.”
“Didn’t you want her to draw her sword?”
“No,” she said. “That was the last thing I wanted.”
I was confused again.
“Vintel wanted to make me feel fear or shame or anger,” Maara said. “It would have been a victory for her. Instead she allowed herself to be goaded into anger, and her anger made her do something foolish. She knew it was foolish, but she didn’t know she had a choice.”
“What if she had drawn her sword?”
“She didn’t.”
“But what if Lorin hadn’t come along?”
“She would have found another way not to fight.”
“But what if she couldn’t do that?” I insisted. “What if she had made you fight her?”
“Then I would have called on my anger, and I would have defended myself until someone stopped us.”
“I thought it was wrong to be angry.”
“No,” she said. “Not wrong. I would have used my anger to give me the strength and the courage I needed. Vintel couldn’t control her anger, and because of that, it would have been useless to her, just as your anger was useless to you, because it blinded you to what you needed to do to get out of a bad situation.”
I thought about why I had resisted Vintel.
“No,” I said. “I knew what I should do, but my anger kept me from doing it.”
“What was that?”
“I should have given her the brooch. That would have satisfied her pride. Then she would have been able to forget that I refused her, and she would have left me alone.”
“Why didn’t you give it to her?”
“She made me angry.”
Maara’s face grew thoughtful. “You may have used your anger well after all.”
I waited for her to explain.
“Vintel thought you would be so afraid of her that you wouldn’t give her any trouble,” she said. “Instead you showed her that she would have to make good on any threats she made to you. You forced her to respect you.”
“Respect me?” I said. “She was about to take the brooch away from me and punish me for stealing it.”
“She might have taken the brooch, but I don’t think she would have done you any harm.”
I remembered the look in Vintel’s eyes, and even as I sat there, safe beside my warrior, I felt an icy shiver slide down my spine.
“I’m not so sure about that. I think she was looking forward to it.”
“I imagine she was looking forward to making you feel how powerful she is. She might have caused you pain, but she wouldn’t have caused you harm. There’s a difference.”
Suddenly she chuckled.
“I doubt Vintel would have found it satisfying.”
“Why not?”
“She could have forced your body, but your spirit would never have submitted to her.”
I heard in Maara’s voice that she was proud of me, and I felt a glow around my heart.
The sun was well up by now, but it was hidden behind masses of dark clouds. The wind gusted stronger and scattered rain around us.
“We should go back,” she said.
We started up the hill. Although we tried to hurry, we had to fight against the wind. By the time we reached the hilltop, we were breathless. Before we went inside the earthworks, Maara stopped and turned to me.
“Stay out of Vintel’s way if you can,” she said, “but don’t make it obvious that you’re avoiding her, and don’t show any fear of her.”
I nodded.
“And don’t go anywhere alone for a while.”
Then I suspected that Vintel had been waiting for an opportunity to confront me. She may have seen me go outside that morning and followed me. But how had Maara known about it?
“How did you know I was in trouble?” I asked her.
“I knew,” she said.
***
After breakfast I found Sparrow alone in the companions’ loft and told her about my encounter with Vintel.
“Eramet gave me that brooch,” she said. “I didn’t take it from her things. She gave it to me, along with an old cloak of hers. It belonged to me. It was mine to give.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I told her, “but I wanted you to know what happened. I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you and Vintel.”
“What in the world could have gotten into her? I’ve never known her to do anything like that before.”
“She’s angry,” I said. “She spoke too soon about my becoming her apprentice. Maybe she feels a little foolish.”
That I had chosen Maara, someone Vintel regarded both as a person of no importance and as an adversary, must have made my refusal of her even more humiliating. I didn’t know if anyone had told Sparrow how my warrior had come to be wounded or of Vintel’s part in it. I had no intention of telling her myself. It wasn’t my story to tell, though sometimes I was tempted. If Sparrow was going to be Vintel’s apprentice, she should know the worst about her. On the other hand, Sparrow had little choice but to accept whoever was willing to take her or risk being sent home. What good would it do to spoil her opinion of someone to whom she might owe her loyalty?
Sparrow didn’t question my explanation. “Your warrior showed up just in time?”
I nodded.
“And challenged Vintel?”
“Yes.”
She grinned a wicked grin. “I would have liked to see that.”
Sparrow was cleaning the armor of a warrior whose companion was ill. She had been trying to make herself useful, especially to the warriors who had not yet chosen an apprentice, although we both knew that her best chance was still with Vintel. For a time I watched her work, and the things Maara had said to me that morning came back into my mind.
“What kinds of things did Eramet teach you?” I asked Sparrow.
She shrugged. “All the usual things, I suppose.”
“Did she teach you about anger?”
“Anger?” She thought for a minute. “Eramet never said anything about anger, as far as I can remember.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Why?”
“Maara says that anger is a choice.”
Sparrow laughed. “I hope she teaches you more useful things than that.”
***
From the companions’ loft I had a good view of the great hall. Maara had been sitting with several of the other warriors before the hearth. When preparations began for the midday meal, she got up and headed toward the stairs. I got up too and went to meet her, in case she needed me. She asked me to find something for us to eat and bring it to her room. In the kitchen I found stew simmering in a cauldron. I took a bowlful for each of us and half a loaf of bread and went back upstairs.
When I handed Maara her bowl, I said, “Are we hiding from Vintel?”
She laughed. “Not exactly.”
Maara finished first and set her bowl aside. My eyes had been bigger than my stomach, and I’d taken more than I could eat. I offered her what was left of mine. She smiled at me and took the bowl.
“I’ll never be hungry again,” she said, “as long as you’re around.”
Her words both pleased and pained me. In a teasing way, she was thanking me for taking care of her, but her words cast a dark shadow. I heard in them that she had been hungry in a way I’d never been, and I was sorry it was so.
My face must have shown her what I was feeling.
“What’s troubling you?” she asked.
I shrugged, reluctant to tell her the truth. No one wants to hear that she inspires pity.
“Are you still worried about Vintel?”
I nodded, glad that she had provided me with another answer to her question. In truth, several things still puzzled me.
“Do you truly believe I was right to resist her?”
“What do you think would have happened if you’d given in?”
“I thought that if I made a gesture to satisfy her pride, she would stop being angry with me.”
“Most people would be satisfied with such a gesture,” Maara said, “but I think that to Vintel it would have been a sign of weakness.” She propped her elbows on her knees, rested her chin on her hands, and gazed at me. “What if I had handed her your brooch and promised to punish you for stealing it? That ought to have satisfied her pride.”
The thought horrified me. I couldn’t imagine her doing such a thing. It would have hurt my trust in her, no matter her intentions. She saw in my face what I thought of the idea.
“If I had given her the brooch,” she said, “the gesture would have been more than just a sign of weakness to Vintel. It would truly have weakened us, because to you it would have been a betrayal.”
I nodded that I understood.
“And if you had given her the brooch,” she said, “the gesture would have weakened you, because that would also have been a betrayal. It would have been a betrayal of yourself. I think that’s what your anger was telling you. Sometimes the ability to make such a gesture is a sign of strength and making it can make you stronger. But not this time.”
I wondered then why she hadn’t questioned me about the brooch.
“Why didn’t you ask me where I got it?”
“I didn’t need to,” she replied. “I knew you didn’t steal it, and Vintel would have enjoyed watching me question you about it. Instead I showed her that I would defend you, whether or not you’d done something wrong. She knew I hadn’t given you the brooch. She knew I had no idea how you came by it. Now she knows I’ll stand by you. And now you know it too.”
“I never doubted it,” I said.
Maara smiled. “Looking back on it, I think we’ve done well today.”
I had a different opinion.
“It seems to me that things have gone from bad to worse,” I said. “Now Vintel is our enemy. Now she has another grievance against us.”
“Vintel has always been my enemy. At least now her hatred is out in the open.”
“But why does she hate you for something she did? She owes you an apology for what she did.”
“Vintel hates me for who I am,” she said. “What she did came from her hatred. But what she did was wrong, and she believes she’ll lose face if she admits it. She’s right. It’s too late now to admit to what she did. Now she has to live with it, and the sight of me can only remind her of her own cowardice.”
Maara’s words frightened me. She was telling me that Merin’s house would be dangerous for her as long as Vintel was in it. It had never occurred to me that I might be endangering her by keeping her with me. I felt I had been very selfish.
“The Lady was right,” I said. “I should have let you go.”
For the first time that day my warrior was angry with me. “Have I no will of my own?”
“Of course you do, but I never thought about how dangerous this place still is for you.”
“All the world is dangerous for me,” she said. “At least here I have a friend or two.”
That made me feel a little better, but there was something I needed to hear her say. “Will you tell me again that this is what you wanted?”
She sighed. “If I do, will you never ask me again?”
I nodded.
“I regret nothing,” she said. “And I hope you never have cause to regret your choice.”
“What have I to regret? I have what I wanted.”
“Today you stood with me against Vintel. She won’t forget it. Vintel is something you will have to learn to live with.”
An idea came to me. “Maybe I should put the brooch away, so that it won’t be a reminder to Vintel.”
Maara shook her head. “If you put it away, it will seem as if you’re trying to hide it from her, as if you are truly guilty of the theft.” She thought for a moment. “I have a better idea.”
She got up, took her heavy cloak from its peg, and put it on.
“Give me the brooch,” she said.
I took it from my belt and gave it to her, and she used it to fasten her cloak. It looked handsome against the dark green cloth.
“Put on something warm,” she said. “We’re going outside.”
Wind-blown rain rattled against the shutter.
“Outside?”
“Yes,” she said.
I put on a heavy tunic, and Maara handed me an old hood of hers to put over my head.
“We’re going to have to get you some winter clothes,” she said.
We went downstairs and out through the great hall. Although it was only midafternoon, it was almost dark outside. Black clouds loomed over us, and the cold rain stung our faces. Once we were outdoors, I meant to ask her what she had in mind, but the wind blew my words away.
I followed Maara through the maze of earthworks and down the hill. The wind blew right through the fabric of my trousers. By the time we reached the river, my legs were numb. We took shelter by a tree whose bare branches couldn’t stop the rain, though the trunk broke the wind a bit.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“This is far enough. We can go back now.”
“What are we doing?”
“We’re getting wet,” she said. “Now we’re going to go back to sit beside the fire and dry off. And we’re going to give everyone an opportunity to admire your brooch.”
“What about Vintel?”
“She’ll either challenge my right to it or she won’t. I doubt Vintel wants to take the matter any further, and she certainly doesn’t want to do it in public. But if she doesn’t challenge me, she will have missed her chance. Once people have seen me wearing it, they will remember the brooch as mine.”
We returned to the house and sat for the rest of the afternoon beside the hearth. Maara kept her cloak on. Even after it was dry and she began to be too warm, she only tossed it back over her shoulder, so that the brooch stayed in its place. When people admired it, she told them it belonged to me.
Vintel came into the great hall for the evening meal. She saw us sitting by the hearth, and she could not have failed to see the brooch, but she ignored us, and she never said another word about it.
Copyright © Catherine M. Wilson
