“Hmmmph,” Cyndee mumbled again. de Baard glanced her way. The old woman was finished eating and was leaning back slightly, her arms crossed over her ample bosoms, clearly unimpressed.
“I see your kali,” Fenn said hastily, trying to cover his wife’s rudeness. Cyndee, sweet as she was, could be a bear at times, though when ya came to know her ya realized she didn’t mean nothin’ by it. “You a Captain of arms?”
de Baard nodded, a bit confused by the question.
“That’s something,” Fenn added with another wide smile. “I reckoned most woman fighters to be workin’ with the bow.”
“It ain’t proper for any woman to be a fightin’,” Cyndee finally said, confident her opinion was the only one that truly mattered. They were her first true words since supper was served.
de Baard sat utterly still, her thoughts drifting dangerously toward the bitch Samantha, at the mention of women fighting with the bow. She smiled sweetly at Cyndee.
“What was that?”
“She don’t mean nothing’.” Fenn said hastily. He was very practiced at smoothing over his wife’s rough edges with folk.
“Do too mean somethin’,” Cyndee retorted. “I mean it ain’t proper for woman to be fightin’. Tis man’s work.”
“Not proper?” de Baard asked, her right hand quivering ever so slightly, the itch beginning to build. She placed it lightly on the hilt of her kali to steady it.
“Not proper!” Cyndee repeated.
“Now ladies,” Fenn said.
“Not proper,” Cyndee insisted with a scowl. She didn’t much like the beautiful young woman who sat meekly at her table. “I’m surprised Prince Gwaynn didn’t just send ya away…not much better than a harlot.”
de Baard’s eyes widened slightly.
“Now Cyndee…” Jasper started, but his wife interrupted.
“No proper woman would…” Cyndee fumed but stopped in mid-sentenced as de Baard drew her sword and lashed out, hard and fast. A bright red smile appeared suddenly in Cyndee’s neck; blood ran freely over her numerous chins and flowed down the cavity between her large breasts. The woman’s head remained in place for a long moment, but then slid off to the left and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It bounced once and then rolled to a stop against the oven. Once free of its head her neck sprayed blood for several long moments but luckily it missed the table. Fenn just sat very still and stared at his wife, his mouth hanging open, her death not yet registering. Cyndee was so large and wide around the hips and buttocks that her body slumped but remained upright, sitting headless in the chair.
“It’s hard to think without a head,” de Baard whispered, staring at the decapitated corpse at the table, “and it’s not proper getting blood everywhere like that,” she finished then her eyes shifted to Fenn.
“Sorry Jasper,” she said softly and began to stand. She was surprised by the speed of the old man as he launched himself out of his chair and toward the back door. Quick as he was, de Baard was faster and sliced open his back from shoulders to hips. The old man spun with a scream and de Baard plunged her left kali through his open mouth and out the back of his neck, the force of the blow driving the sharp weapon deep into the heavy wooden door. Fenn hung pinned. He struggled and waved his arms about for longer than de Baard would have thought possible. She stood back and giggled softly at the man’s antics, watching as blood and drool dripped from his ruined mouth. His movements finally grew feeble but he was still alive when de Baard moved close and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Your wife was horrible,” she whispered. Jasper, close to death, wanted to object; he loved his wife despite her faults, but his mouth wouldn’t work and he died thinking of her. de Baard sighed, happy and then yanked the weapon free. Jasper slid down along the door, leaving a bright trail of red behind.
de Baard looked about at the carnage in the small kitchen and smiled. ‘Now I’ll have to get my own bath,’ she thought, not truly minding. She felt better than she had in months as she wiped her kali clean on Cyndee Fenn’s floral dress, the body still sitting neatly at the table.
“No please, don’t get up,” de Baard whispered and then giggled as she left the kitchen.
ǂ
Gwaynn returned to Manse nearly six weeks from the day of his departure, and the change was utterly astounding.
“Incredible!” Krys uttered as they rode closer and closer to the outer defenses of the rapidly growing city. Manse itself was not yet visible in the distance, but all along the entrance to the oxbow new fortifications were taking shape and hundreds of men and women were busy building and adding to them.
“Bock’s amazing,” Samantha whispered and Gwaynn found that he agreed completely. The transformation was dramatic. The main thoroughfare leading out of the oxbow was wide and slightly elevated; the banks of the road near the city were reinforced with large thick timbers to help keep it from washing away. At the moment the way was packed with carts and wagons, all loaded with goods being transported between the Plateau and the busy port city of Cape. A large levee now blocked most of the opening in the oxbow and the road was the only way in and out unless you wanted to get wet and wade across the Scar River.
Bock waited patiently for them just outside the newly erected city gates. He was mounted on a chestnut mare named McGurk. He gently scratched her neck as his King and his army approached closer. Gwaynn and Samantha led the long column of men, and flapping in the wind above them was the banner of Massi, a white eagle on a dark blue field. Bock’s heart soared just seeing the image, he’d almost forgotten. Gwaynn studied the defenses closely as he rode up. The first thing that struck him was the massive gates which now towered over the flat plains below. They were anchored on either side to the high levee that made up the first line of the city’s new defenses. The gates were wide open at the moment and Gwaynn could see that they were very thick. They soared high above the road and were very impressive. Across the entire oxbow, Bock and his men excavated a large trench that was nearly twenty feet wide. Gwaynn could see that it joined with the Scar River to the west but the eastern end was lost from view. There was no telling how deep the trench was since at the moment it was filled with water diverted from the river. The water was a muddy brown and filled with fresh sediment and flowed slowly past the gates to the east.
On the far side of the trench, obviously made from the excavated dirt and rock, was a solid mound of earth, a protective berm nearly fifteen feet high. Work was still continuing on the earthen mound but near the gates it was already complete. To the east, Gwaynn could see that the levee was being erected over a strong latticework of thick timbers, ostensibly to reinforce the earthen wall. Protruding out of the thick wooden braces were long, sharpened iron spikes positioned at regular intervals. The spikes were angled downward and sticking wickedly out of the earthen works for at least a foot and a half. They would pose a nasty problem, threatening anyone attempting to climb up to the top of the mound from the watery trench below. From the looks of it, the protective levee was almost halfway completed.
Bock waited patiently on the lone bridge that now spanned the trench at the gates. He waited with Captain Marcum on one side and the formidable Lee Brandt on the other. As Gwaynn and his troop approached, a slight smile appeared on the General’s face.
“Welcome home, M’lord,” he said as Gwaynn came to a stop before him.