Chapter 27
Blood Thinner Than Water
Outside Kartbyrsa, Kingdom of Hannibal
The girl was carrying a load of linens to the well. She was well-accustomed to the work. Her mother was one of the estate's laundresses, after all, and the girl had been helping her ever since she could walk. Now she had to do the work alone. The other laundresses would not work with her mother because she was of Dragonrider stock. How much more would they refuse to help a half-blooded bastard child?
Even though she was young, she knew that she was despised. Her birth was a mistake. She was not the child of her own kind nor of a proper man and wife, even as such a thing is reckoned among slaves. Despite this, her mother loved her and called her a gift from Umay the Earth Mother. It would dishonor her mother's love for her if she did not persevere to live in spite of whatever hardships she might face.
Speaking of hardships, she was shoved to the ground. When she turned to see who had pushed her, she saw two older boys. She recognized them as the master's kin. The oldest was rather tall for his age and carried a knife in his belt, a squire, she thought.
"Going to do the washing, dog girl?" the oldest asked. "You filthy the sheets more just by touching them."
The girl remembered that it was better to be silent around people. Nothing she could say would make things any better at a time like this. Instead she kept her head low and gathered up the linens.
The oldest boy kicked her.
"I'm talking to you, dog girl! Don't you know how to speak to your betters? Or maybe you can't speak. Are you a simpleton, dog girl? Are you dumb?"
The girl just bowed and went back to gathering the linens. The boy responded by yanking the sheets out of her hands.
"You'll answer when spoken to, you little beast! Do you know who I am!?"
Still she said nothing. Nothing she could say would help her. It would only make things worse.
The boy seized her by her smock, picked her up and started shaking her.
"I expect an answer! Talk, damn you!"
Even if she did say something at this point, what would she say? What was it the boy wanted to hear? Maybe it made no difference. If he was not abusing her for saying nothing, he would abuse her for saying something. There was no winning, so she just needed to resign herself to whatever she was going to get.
"I know who you are," the boy said. "I've heard the rumors. Why you weren't drowned the day you were born, the Lord only knows." He then told the younger boy with him, "Yamin, hold her down. I'm going to make sure no one every forgets what this bitch is."
The younger boy got behind her and when the older one set her down, he held her by the shoulders. The older boy gave her a contemptuous look, then backhanded her. She had borne worse before, but there was a brief flash of anger that came over her. When she was smaller, she was quick to vent her spleen, but only after seeing her mother take the worst of the beatings that would follow time and time again did she learn to hold he temper in check. No matter how angry she became, she felt much worse seeing her mother's tears afterwards. She was better about controlling her temper, but she could not suppress it entirely. The older boy did not fail to notice either.
"What's that insolent look, dog girl? I should've guessed it wouldn't take much to peel the hide back and show your real face."
He held her chin with one hand and drew his knife with the other. The sight of the knife made the girl panic. Surely he did not mean to kill her so brazenly. Even a slave's life had to be answered for, but she was not thinking about that. She saw the danger and animal instinct took over.
She pushed off with her legs to knock the younger boy onto his back. She then scrambled to her feet, making a point to stomp on the younger boy as much as she could. The older boy came at her, shouting, "Dammit, Yamin! I said hold her!"
It may not have done her any good, but she should have tried running. That was not what she did, though. She did the exact opposite, meeting his charge with one of her own. She threw her fist between his legs. She had seen the slave boys fighting before and that seemed to take a lot of the fight out of them. The boy moaned and doubled over. The girl then bit into the arm holding the knife. She bit down as hard as she could, until she could taste the blood, and kept on biting. The boy screamed, dropping his knife as he tried to shake her loose.
She refused to let go, even as he pounded away on her head with his free hand. He finally managed to pry her loose by kicking her away. Once they were separated, there was the briefest moment of silence between them. Both of their eyes then shot to the knife lying on the ground. They both went for it, but the girl proved to be faster. Snatching up the knife, she lunged at the boy, aiming low, but before the knife could reach its mark, her body was yanked back. Before she could realize what was happening, the knife was taken out of her hands and she was struck so hard that it laid her out flat.
Dazed from the blow, it took her a moment to recognize the master standing over her. The boy, surprised for a moment, drew himself up and started to say triumphantly, "Serves you right, you little savage. Now you're going to get it. You—"
He was cut off by the master backhanding him.
"By what right are you taking liberties with my property, boy?" he demanded. "Do you think being my fosterling gives you a son's rights?"
"But, Uncle, she—!"
The master struck him again.
"And that's for losing to a girl. Do you expect to join the Dragoons like that? You're not fit to empty their slop buckets."
He then kicked the younger boy.
"Get up! You're no less a disgrace! It's shameful enough that you trample on my hospitality, but for a mere slave girl to make fools of you! Bring shame to my house like this again, I'll have you out in the streets! Do you hear me!? Now get to the training grounds! I'll have Sir Amon run you ragged!"
The older boy looked at the master and said, "Uncle, my knife..."
The master looked at the knife and thrust it into his belt, saying, "It's not your knife anymore."
The boy balled up his fists and said, "Father gave me that knife..."
"Then maybe when you no longer shame his memory, you can have it back. To the training grounds. Don't make me say it again."
"Yes, sir," the older boy sullenly replied.
When the younger boy did not say anything, the older one nudged him roughly so that he also replied with a "Yes, sir."
The older boy gave the girl a bitter look before turning to go. Once they were gone, the master turned to the girl.
"You, girl. Your name."
The girl held her cheek as she looked up to the master and replied, "Khulan, daughter of Chimeg... master."
The master looked aside, apparently recalling her mother's name.
"Ah, yes," he said. "That one. And where is your mother?"
"She's dead, master. Two moons past."
"Hmmm."
The master seemed to be lost in thought. The girl straightened herself up. She knew what was coming. For a slave to rise up against the master's household, the penalty was death. She would be hanged if she was lucky, crucified if she was not. So much for her living for her mother's sake...
"Tell me, girl," the master said. "Why did you fight back? You may be a child, but you know your place."
"He was going to cut me, master."
"You will face worse now. You will join your mother in the grave. Does that make you happy?"
"No, master. I wanted to live."
"Then why did you fight?"
"I fought to live, master."
"But you must die for it, child."
Something dark stirred within the girl, prompting her to say, "Then I wish I was faster."
Most unexpectedly, the master cracked a faint hint of a grin.
"You'd rather die with blood on your hands, is that it?"
All the girl could do was nod. The master chuckled.
"You interest me, girl. Perhaps I can put that wild blood of yours to use. Choose, girl. You can die now for your crimes and your suffering will be over, or you can follow me."
"What happens if I follow you, master?" the girl asked.
"You will be trained, if indeed you can be trained. You will learn to fight. Do not disappoint me and you will have your life, but it will not be an easy life. Your days will be hard, far harder than they are now. If you fail me, you die. So, will you choose an easy death or a hard life?"
The girl did not hesitate.
"I choose life, master. I will fight."
"You will fight to your dying day," the master replied. "If you succeed in your training, you will need a new name."
"A new name, master?"
"Yes. If that fire within you continues to burn, I shall call you Yael. Yael bat Ebenezer."
* * *
"Captain! Captain!"
Yael opened her eyes. She had been taking a brief nap leaned up against a tree. Her men never knew when she was sleeping and when she was awake, but that was as she intended. It was not easy training herself to sleep standing up, but it was a useful skill to have in the field.
It was strange that she would dream of that time all those years ago. She was quite sure that she remembered it somewhat differently, but the gods' caprice influenced what they showed you in dreams. Imagine if she had grown up to be a laundress like her mother. Who would have thought the bastard child of a Dragonrider slave and a Yehudi lord would become Captain-General of the Order of the Dragon?
Remembering the man who called her, she asked him, "What is it?"
"We had reports of the fugitive Tobias Barca in Kartbyrsa."
"And?"
"We... we lost track of him."
There had been many false leads so far, but this did not seem to be one of them.
"You say you lost track of him," she said. "There was a clear sighting of him then?"
"There was... a collaborator."
"A collaborator?"
"A woman was seen with the fugitive. When some of our men went to apprehend her, somebody helped her escape... one of our own..."
"Who was it?"
"Sir Yoel, Captain."
She should have known. Yoel had always been close to Tobias. If he had the opportunity to aid Tobias, he would take it, the poor fool.
"Did he escape?" she asked.
"No, Captain.. It would seem he allowed himself to be apprehended to buy time for the woman to escape."
How like him.
"Send Ishbaal's squadron on to Zareh, have Yotham and Yehomilk's squadrons continue to search Kartbyrsa, and send Ahiram and Livinius' squadrons on ahead to Shakab."
"And Barek's squadron?"
"They will stay behind for now. After all, it's one of their own who must face judgment."
"Yes, Captain."
She was glad it was a long-standing practice to avoid assigning kin to the same squadron. Yared knew his duty, but he might forget with the life of his little brother on the line. He could not save Yamin, but it would be easy for him to think he could do something for Yoel. It would be a pity if Lord Yehoiakim's line died out entirely.
Barek's squadron was assembled in a circle with two men holding Yoel in the center. Yael passed through the ranks and faced down Yoel. You could see in his eyes that he knew what was coming and had resigned himself to his fate.
"Yoel ben Yehoiakim, you stand accused of aiding and abetting the fugitive Tobias Barca and his confederates. Do you admit it?"
Yoel did not answer. He was not so shameless as to admit his guilt but too honest to feign innocence. It changed little.
"You have a choice, Yoel ben Yehoiakim," she continued. "We can have you brought back to the palace to face the Queen's justice, with all the dishonor it will bring to your house, or you can face judgment here. The sins of a Dragoon should be cleansed by a Dragoon's hands."
"Am I to be speared by my comrades like some wild pig, Captain?" Yoel asked.
Yael honestly thought he might go to his death without opening his mouth once. She liked it better this way, though.
"You are a traitor, Yoel ben Yehoiakim, but you are no craven. That warrants a trial by combat, I would say."
"Who will be your champion?"
"I am my own champion," Yael replied.
"Captain! You—"
Yael shot a glare at the man who tried to object, silencing him. She unhooked her swordbelt and handed her scabbard to her squire, then removed her helmet, unbuckled her cuirass and let them fall to the ground. She then slowly drew her sword. Then men holding Yoel untied him, then took off his helmet and cuirass as well and offered him his sword, though not without one of them ready to draw in case he might mean treachery. Yael knew there was nothing to fear. He was not the sort to abandon his honor, such as it was, even in such dire straits.
Her men should have known what the terms would be, but for formality's sake if nothing else, she announced them anyway.
"Yoel ben Yehoiakim, knight banneret of the Fourth Banner of Barek Squadron, has elected trial by combat. I, Yael bat Ebenezer, Captain-General of the Order of the Dragon, shall represent our order, while Sir Yoel represents himself. We fight to the death. No surrender nor quarter shall be permitted. If I win, Sir Yoel will have paid for his crimes with his life. They shall be forgotten and he shall be recorded as slain in the line of duty. If Sir Yoel should win, he shall save his life, but he shall be expelled from the order and sent into exile. He shall be recorded as missing and presumed dead and Vice Captain Baalmalek shall assume command until a proper successor is appointed. Does ever man here understand the terms of this trial?"
The men barked in response like the well-trained dogs they were. They then lowered their lances so that any attempt to escape would prove immediately fatal. It would not be necessary, but the forms had to be observed.
Going into her ready stance, Yael then said, "Shall we begin?"
In a low voice, Yoel quietly chanted the Shema and when he was finished, he looked up to Yael and nodded.
Yael wasted no time. Shouting a warcry, she charged at him with a forceful swing. He parried successfully, but she had deliberately left an opening where he could have swung lower and cut open her belly if he had wanted. She risked a rather miserable death just to test him and he did exactly as she expected.
"I don't want to kill you, Sister," Yoel said.
"Don't call me that, Yoel ben Yehoiakim," Yael replied. "Don't imagine we were ever a family."
"But we were. I always looked up to you."
"That was your mistake. If you want to live, you're going to have to kill me."
"Tobiyah is no traitor, not to the realm."
"Are you trying to say that the Queen and the realm are not one and the same?"
"If the rumors are true, it's the Queen who invites disaster."
"Your oath is to serve the Crown and the realm. His was too. You betray one, you betray them both."
"Can't you see that there's something wrong about all this? All this madness about the Witch and everything else..."
"I don't need to think about any of that," Yael insisted. "I only need to obey. If you had done the same, you might have gotten a captaincy for it, title and land in your own name, whatever the Queen's pleasure."
"None of that is worth betraying blood."
"There are higher obligations than blood, Yoel ben Yehoiakim."
"Only one," Yoel replied.
She knew what he meant and it was what would cost him his life. There was no point in dragging it out an longer. She swung again, he blocked, then she drew her blade back and before he could right himself, she ran him through.
As she held him on her sword, she told him, "Such a waste... You chose poorly, little brother."
"My conscience... is clear..." Yoel replied weakly. "You... you can still stop this..."
"I'll stop it," Yael said, "when I bring the traitor back to the palace in chains."
With that, she pulled the sword out of his gut, then finished him off with a thrust to the heart once he had fallen to the ground. She hated him the least, so the least she could do was grant him a quick death.
She shook the blood off her sword, then told the men assembled around her, "He has been judged. Take his body and burn it, then bury his bones by the roadside. Leave no mark for his grave."
The Dragoons barked in assent, then the two men who had been guarding Yoel before went to carry away his body.
Captain Barek approached Yael and asked, "What shall we do with his gear?"
"Send it back to Lord Ebenezer with the rest of his personal effects," she said. "Remember that he was slain in the line of duty."
"Yes, Captain."
Her squire came forward and offered her scabbard. She sheathed her sword, then went to recover her armor. While her squire was putting her cuirass back on her, she could not help feeling a hint of regret. What had Yoel given his life for, a few more days for the fugitive to run before he was caught? What foolishness... She would see that the traitor Tobias Barca was made to pay in full for what he made her do this day.