“So you can have a mother?”
“No.”
He was startled. “Then why?”
“A father.”
“But you have a father!”
“Not like you.”
“But—Rebel is my sister. She. . . I. . .” This was all confusing.
“Hug me,” she said.
He glanced at Kettle, but the slave was as usual unresponsive. However, Keeper had learned to read him somewhat. If the man saw any threat to the girl, he acted. Had he seen a threat in such an action, he would have tensed. He was a slave, but no one would be wise to try to balk his protection of the child.
So Keeper kneeled and put his arms around Tula, hugging her. She hugged him back with an ardor almost like that of a woman. “I love you.”
What did she mean by that? He tried to disengage, but she clung. “I want you to be my father.”
That was too much of an answer. “But that can’t be,” he protested. “Tuho is your father.”
“He doesn’t have time for me.”
And Keeper did. He was beginning to see that he had made a mistake. But he needed to know the whole of it. “I thought you were interested in water, in nature, as I am.”
“Yes. Anything you do.”
“Your father—Commander Tuho—is an important man. He must do his job, every day. He loves you, but can’t be with you all the time. He brought you here so we could provide you with what you lacked.”
“Yes. A family. I want it.”
He was still floundering. “But you can have a family, if Rebel marries your father.”
“Yes. I can be with you.”
“I mean that Rebel can be your mother. She loves you.”
“She is for my father.”
“I don’t understand.” It was something of an understatement. “He needs a woman in his life,” she explained patiently. “When he has Rebel, he won’t need me. I can be with you.”
Her notion was coming clear at last. Tula wanted to provide for her father, so she could be free. She had been alienated by circumstance. Perhaps her mother, dying of disease, had told the child that she would have to take care of her father. Tula had taken it literally, and made an awesomely rational plan to fulfill the obligation. And to recover for herself what she most missed: a functioning family.
“What do you think your present father thinks of this?” he asked. “He likes Rebel. A lot. She’s very good for him. She’s tough and she’s pretty. When he saw her ready to kill Allele, he knew he liked her. She’s very good at sex too. He’ll be happy with her.”
She had it all figured out. He tried another tack. “I already have a daughter.”
“Yes. Allele. She’s nice. I’ll be her sister. The way Rebel’s your sister. We’ll stand by each other forever. A good family.”
This was ridiculous, yet there was logic in it. He would not mind having a daughter like this, with no disparagement of Allele. But it could hardly be that simple.
“I am not sure about this,” he said. “I will have to talk with Commander Tuho.”
“Yes.”
Their dialogue was done. He disengaged and glanced again at the slave. There was a trace of a smile on the man’s face. What did it mean?
Tuho was away that day, but Keeper caught him next morning. “Sir, I need to say something.”
“By all means.”
“I fear you will not like it.”
Tuho smiled. “Is my daughter becoming too much of a burden?”
“Not exactly. We get along well. Too well, perhaps.”
Now Tuho frowned. “Be specific.”
“Tula wants to join my family.”
“She likes Rebel. So do I. Our arrangement is temporary, by mutual agreement, but I think I would like to make it permanent.”
“To marry her?”
“Yes. That would make my daughter happy. In that way she can join your family.”
“It is not that simple, sir. Tula wants to—to exchange Rebel for herself. To have Rebel join you, and Tula join us.”
Anger showed. “How dare you presume!”
“I don’t presume, sir. It was a surprise to me. I tried to explain, but she has her own mind. She—she doesn’t seem to see you as a family. She wants ours. I thought you should know.”
“If this is true, I shall have to take her away from here.”
“I think so, sir. You wanted her to be with a good family. She wanted it too, too literally. We do like her; we all do. We would love to have her with us. But we never meant to take her from you.”
Tuho nodded, making a key decision quickly, as a good commander did. “Will Rebel go with us?”
“Yes, I think so. We like Tula, Rebel loves her. She can’t bear a child of her own.”
“Arrange a meeting of the family, and we will settle this today.”
“All of us? Surely a private dialogue would—”
“It must be accomplished openly, so my daughter understands.” Keeper nodded. “Perhaps so, sir. But this may not be easy.”
“True.”
It wasn’t easy. Tuho spoke directly and plainly: “I must seek other quarters. My child and I will depart shortly. We—”
“No!” Tula cried, stricken.
He glanced down at her. “What is your concern?”
Tula knew better than to defy her father openly. Her plan was now transparent, but she did her best. “You must marry Rebel, and she will go with you.”
“I would like that.” He glanced at Rebel. “Will you accede to marriage, and to be this child’s mother?”
Rebel was taken aback by the directness of the proposal. “I’m not sure this is wise.”
“I do want you,” Tuho said earnestly. “You are the best woman I have encountered, since my wife. Do you object to me as a husband?”
“No. But—”
“Do you dislike Tula?”
“No!”
“Then it seems sufficient. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she agreed uncertainly.
“And I will stay here,” Tula said, clapping her hands.
“No,” Tuho said firmly. “You will come with us.”
“But you have Rebel. You don’t need me anymore.”
He did not try to refute the girl’s logic. “I need you both.”
“But I need a family!”
“We will be your family,” Rebel said. “I love you, Tula.”
“But I love this family. Will you stay here?”
Rebel looked at Tuho. He shook his head. “No. We will go.”
“Then I will stay here. With Keeper. And Craft.”
Keeper closed his eyes. He couldn’t respond.
Craft, similarly disturbed, did. “Sometimes two families intermarry, and stay together. Haven married Harbinger, and Keeper married Crenelle. But none of us are high officers like your father, Tula. He has responsibilities that take him many places. He is your blood father, and you must be with him.”
“But I am giving him Rebel!”
Rebel spoke. “I think I can’t marry you, Tuho.”
“But you must!” the child cried.
Now Rebel did what she never did: she wept.
Tula turned to Keeper. “Why?”
This he could answer. “Rebel loves you, Tula. She wants to be with you, and be your mother. But if she marries your father, and you stay with us, she can’t be with you. Your father loves you too, and if he marries Rebel, you say he can’t be with you. So though they like each other, and want to marry each other, they can’t, because they would be losing you. Unless you go with them.”
“But I want to be with you,” Tula said to Keeper. “Don’t you want to be with me?”
How could he explain in a way the child would understand or accept? “Yes, I want to be with you, and have you for another daughter. But sometimes we must do things we don’t like. Remember when Rebel was going to kill Allele?” Allele, sitting with Crenelle, flinched; she didn’t like that memory. “She was ready to d
o it, because otherwise it could be worse.”
Tula nodded. “Yes.”
“Now Rebel is ready to give up your father, though she wants to marry him, because otherwise it will be worse.”
“But you will not torture me.”
“If I took you, it would torture your father. He needs you, Tula.”
“But if he has Rebel—”
“He needs you more than he needs Rebel. You are all that remains of your mother.” He paused, then tried another aspect. “Our cultures differ. We are Maya; you are Toltec. When we marry, the new couple spends seven years living with the bride’s clan, paying off the debt to the bride’s family. Then they move to the husband’s family, or establish their own household. This is not the Toltec way, and your father is not able to do such a thing. We understand that, and Rebel is willing to forgo the way of our culture. But only if she can be with you; otherwise the sacrifice is too great. It would be similarly difficult for your father. Without you, it would not work well.”
The child considered. She understood the importance of herself, though perhaps not in the way the adults did. She was accustomed to being the center of attention wherever she was—except when with her father. For a moment Keeper hoped she would yield to the ideal compromise, and agree to stay with Tuho and Rebel. But then she sighed, and walked back to her father. She had lost her ploy, but she wouldn’t compromise. She was a warrior’s child. She would leave without Rebel, rather than accept what she believed was the wrong family.
Beside her father, she turned. “This isn’t over,” she said grimly.
Keeper hoped she was right. But she was the one who would have to compromise.
The neglect of the temples and public buildings continued for centuries, and Xlacah decreased in size and importance. The squatters lived there for generations, leaving trash middens on the floors as deep as four feet. Yet the city was not dead; new buildings were constructed, and old ones renovated. One existing structure became the Temple of The Seven Dolls, but it’s not clear what the purpose of the dolls was.
The Toltecs ruled for another two centuries, but then abandoned their Yucatan capital of Chichén Itzá. The Maya regained their power in the region, but lacked political unity.
13
PRINCESS
Through the centuries the fierce nomads of the Asian steppe made many inroads on the more civilized peoples to the south and west. China finally built a series of walls to try to fence them out, while Europeans tried to oppose them militarily. Neither policy was very effective.
The territory between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea, dominated by the Caucasus Mountain range, was like a way station, at the edge of civilization as we understood it. Many tribes passed there on their way to Asia Minor and Europe. Circa 2,000 BC the Cimmerians held sway to the north, the Hittites and Egyptians to the south. By 800 BC the Cimmerians remained to the north, but the Assyrians dominated south. By 600 BC the Scythians had displaced the Cimmerians, while the Assyrians were giving way to the Babylonians. By 500 BC the Sarmatians, which may have been a branch of the Scythians, dominated the Caucasus region, while the Persian Empire prevailed south. This gave way to the Empire of Alexander, then to the Roman Empire.
Meanwhile the Sarmatians split into three groups, one of which was the Alani. The Alani were to settle in the Caucasus, with the Kingdom of Armenia immediately south. Neither was able to conquer the other, both being formidable powers in their own right for many centuries. They were neighbors for two thousand years. At first relations were hostile, but later there was amelioration and intermarriage. Theoretically the Armenians were an outpost of civilization, while the Alani were barbarians. But this was always an oversimplification, if it ever was true. Sometimes they were destined to make common cause.
The setting is just south of the Caucasus, circa 1300 AD.
Craft saw that the situation was hopeless. The enemy, more numerous and better organized than his scouts had reported, and surely better led, had a commanding position. His soldiers were about to be slaughtered. They had already taken serious losses, and the wounded would die if not brought home immediately.
It was hunger that had done them in. They were well trained and disciplined, and had fought well in the past. But the enemy had laid waste the fields, filled in wells, and removed all stores of food. Foraging had become difficult, and as time passed, nigh impossible.
Oh, they had tried. They conserved water by pissing into sand-filled buckets and drinking the filtered liquid that dripped from holes in the bottom. It tasted foul, but was actually potable. They trapped rats and other rodents and roasted them as small delicacies. They made bread from anything handy, including trapped locusts, roaches, spiders, and other bugs. The vermin were dried before fires, and their dessicated bodies ground into flour which was then baked as bread. They ground up sticks of wood and baked it similarly. It was no pleasure to eat or to try to digest, but it was better than nothing. They even roasted animal dung.
But these were temporary measures, and there was no respite. Had there been rain to make seeds sprout—but the weather blessed the enemy with a drought.
Even retreat was not feasible. They could not travel. The men were simply too fatigued and ill with opportunistic diseases. A quarter of the army was lying on straw beds, dry heaving and awaiting the relief of unconsciousness and death.
The choices seemed to be cannibalism or capitulation. Craft did not like either. But neither did he prefer the likely doom of remaining inactive. So he did what he had to do.
“Fetch the white flag,” he told his lieutenant.
“Sir!” the man protested.
“You can see as well as I can that we are in no condition to continue hostilities. We must cut our losses. I will proffer myself in lieu of my men. For food and water for them now, and forbearance from slaughter. You will see to their evacuation when I am taken hostage, when they are able to travel.”
“But we can’t trust the enemy commander!”
“We have no choice. I should be worth enough to make the exchange worth his while. He has losses of his own to attend to, and he won’t want to be stuck with a field full of stinking bodies to bury. It is to his advantage to make the deal.”
“I act under protest, sir.” But the lieutenant fetched the flag. And balked again. “You must consult with your brother.”
He was right. Hero was commanding the army, and this would have to be cleared with him. “Notify him of my intention.”
The lieutenant galloped off on one of their few remaining healthy horses that had not yet been eaten, while Craft attended to matters of hygiene and sustenance. He could not be sure when the enemy would allow him to eat or piss again. Not that he had much to void; he had been on urine rations too.
Hero arrived shortly. “Have you gone crazy, brother?”
“You know the situation as well as I do, brother. We have to purchase respite for our troops, lest we make a bad situation worse than it needs to be.”
“What will Crenelle say?”
That was a sharp cut. “I think I need to do it before she finds out.”
“And if it goes bad, she’ll be a widow.”
Craft smiled grimly. “Then you’ll have to marry her, Prince. It would not be an unkind chore.”
Hero shook his head. “I’ll make Keeper do it.”
They were bantering, knowing the grimness of the situation. But it was true: Craft stood a fair chance of losing his life, and one of his brothers would then have to marry his widow, to protect his children. Both of Craft’s brothers liked Crenelle, and she liked both, so it would work out. But Crenelle would never let Craft walk into such danger if she had a choice. As it was, she would blame Hero for not stopping him. So it would be Keeper she married. But the men knew that this was a necessary sacrifice.
Hero put his hand on Craft’s shoulder. “Go with God, brother. I tried to stop you.”
“You tried,” Craft agreed. That was their cover story to satisfy Crenelle.
br /> Craft mounted his steed, held the flag aloft on its short pole beside his royal banner, and rode out to meet the enemy. This was its own gamble, because they might elect simply to cut him down. But that would throw his less-wasted troops into a despairing fury that would pointlessly cost many more lives. What else would they have to lose? It was better for the enemy to parlay.
The enemy troops gave way before him, recognizing his banner. Then the enemy commander rode out to intercept him. Craft saw with surprise that the banner was royal. They had sent a baron out to parlay, an excellent signal.
Craft halted his horse and dismounted. He was putting himself at the mercy of the other, as he could readily be cut down before he could mount and escape.
The other dismounted and strode to face him, then waited for Craft to make his case.
“I am Baronet Craft. Our army is defeated. I proffer myself in lieu of the men, as hostage. Take me, and give them water and what food you care to spare. They will depart when they can travel.”
“I am Baron Tuho. I accept your submission. Mount and accompany me to the city.”
It was that simple. Craft remounted as Tuho did and guided his horse in the indicated direction. Tuho made a signal, and his troops started falling back, allowing Craft’s troops respite. Serving women emerged from behind their ranks, carrying jugs and baskets. Water and food! Obviously they had been prepared for this situation. Craft himself would be captive, imprisoned, but his men would survive.
But Tuho did not guide him to a prison site. Instead they went to the palace. There royal servants helped Craft remove his armor and soiled clothing, washed him, and gave him a robe. They stored his sword and knife in a cabinet but did not lock them away. This was better treatment than he had anticipated. As a rule, royal hostages were not abused, but neither were they given much chance to make mischief.
When he was dressed, Tuho reappeared, similarly robed. “I thank you for courteous treatment,” Craft said.
“We have long been neighbors. You are a man of honor. You will not abuse our hospitality.”
“True. However—”
“You will meet my daughter,” Tuho said. “The heiress Tula.”