“Would that tribute not put your queens on a par with all of Prester John's other subordinate kings?” Balkis asked.
Illior nodded. “It does indeed, making them part of the most powerful empire in the Orient—and they have no fear of being enslaved, for we their soldiers are warriors by training and by inclination, who keep our skills honed by continually holding mock battles.”
“And looking for excuses for going to war?” Balkis asked with sarcasm.
Alantha grinned. “I would not say we seek it—but perhaps we bring it faster than it might otherwise come, by our pride and our loathing of compromise. When we must go to battle, we go eagerly, seeking the glory and honor that entitles us to become mothers, and we fight most bravely indeed.”
Balkis could believe it, if that was what they had to do to win the privilege of having babies. Still, she was interested to learn that the mothering instinct was as strong in these women as in any others.
So they talked through that long afternoon, Balkis constantly on the watch for a chance to escape and go to Anthony's rescue—but her host-guards were too vigilant. Alantha happened to be sitting between her and the door, and Illior was quick to summon the servant girl to fetch food and drink from the other room at the slightest sign of Balkis' desire. Balkis began to feel as though she were bound with velvet ropes— comfortable, even pleasant against the skin, but binding her tightly nonetheless. She masked her growing desperation, and as the windows reddened with sunset, braced herself to work a spell into the conversation, hoping Alantha and Illior wouldn't realize what she was doing until it was too late to stop her with a blow.
Then Anthony lurched into the room, looking dazed. A soldier followed him, giving his shoulder another shove that explained his lurching. She wore no helmet or armor, only a linen tunic that clung to her figure and ended at mid-thigh, and her face flamed with anger—or was it embarrassment?
CHAPTER 14
“Take him, maiden!” the white-clad soldier snapped.
“Yes, take him, for we cannot!” said another soldier, coming right behind her.
“Aye!” said the first. “He is no use to us, that's certain!”
Balkis was on her feet and clinging to Anthony's arm, afraid he would fall, for he blinked around at the room, not seeming to understand where he was. “What have you done to him!”
“Everything we could short of rape. ” Another soldier followed the first through the door with two more behind her, all clad like the first with their flowing hair unbound. “Stripped him naked and stripped ourselves, slowly and with every enticement we knew—and it did some good, as anyone could see, but not enough. Again and again he stammered that he had to refuse our kind invitation, saying he must be loyal to you.”
“We accused him of being virgin, and therefore afraid of the power of the pleasures we would give him,” another soldier said, “and he told us there might be truth to that, but still must he be loyal to his traveling companion.”
“We assured him there was nothing to fear and every pleasure to gain, that we would ease him gently from his virgin state,” the fourth soldier said, “and he thanked us, did you not, pale lad?”
That brought Anthony a little out of his daze. “Aye! How else could I respond to so kind an offer?”
“Aye, how could you?” the soldier said in disgust. “And you did not, to be sure!”
“As though we stood to gain nothing by our generosity” the first said with sarcasm.
“We danced for him, we offered him wine, we caressed and kissed him,” the second said, fuming, “but still he stood rigid and protested he must refuse our kind offer.”
“In the end, we dressed him and brought him back to you,” said the first, lip curling in a sneer. She rounded on Balkis. “Why did you not tell us you are betrothed?”
“Why… because we are not!” Balkis gasped.
“In love, then—so deeply in love you might as well be engaged,” the first soldier said. “Why, when we pressed him to take advantage of the opportunity he turned red-faced and stammered that he had to be faithful to his little cat.” She wrinkled her nose. “He calls you endearments, and you do not know he loves you?”
“Well… perhaps I suspected …” Balkis didn't think it was time to explain that “little cat” was only a statement of fact, not an endearment—or was it?
“Take him and go.” Alantha rose to her feet.
“Aye, take him, for he will surely be no use to us!” one of the soldiers said.
“We must respect such loyalty—it is a quality soldiers understand,” Illior said, though she looked disappointed. “He has won you safe passage through our land, maiden, and so shall we tell the queens. It has been fifty years and more since a man so refused us through loyalty to his love.”
Alantha stepped close. “If he is so much in love with you, you are a fool if you remain a maiden much longer.”
“Per-Perhaps …” Balkis said, but her face flamed scarlet at the thought.
“If you do not realize the worth of what you have in him, you are truly a fool,” Alantha said bluntly. “If you do not bind him to you with every tie you know of, you are a greater fool still.”
“I … I shall ponder what you say.” Balkis lowered her gaze, then looked up again at Anthony's face, anxious at his numbness, the trance in which he seemed to stand.
“You may stay the night.” Alantha stepped aside from the inner doorway. “You will find the bed wide and soft, and if you have any sense about you, you will put it to good use.”
“Thank—Thank you. But… we …” Balkis glanced again at Anthony, and saw that she would have to do the thinking for both of them. “You … are very kind, but I think … yes, I think that we had better go while we may. You have been very hospitable, but we have many miles yet to walk and must use every minute of daylight left.”
“Go, then.” Alantha nodded at the white-clad soldiers, who stepped aside from the outer doorway. “Go in peace, but go quickly, for though we respect his loyalty, there is something within us that must believe it is an insult.”
Balkis took her Anthony, and went—and as she steered him down the road and out of the village, she marveled that he did indeed seem to have become her Anthony—for if the soldiers spoke truly, he most certainly was that.
The thought made her a little afraid. Afraid, but also excited-—and that excitement made her even more afraid.
Matt and Stegoman came flying over the roadway, noticing how the desert had bloomed and turned from rock to scrub growth to verdant pasture and luxurious woodland. “We seem to be coming to a water source,” Matt opined.
“Perhaps it is the drainage from that range of mountains we passed some days ago,” Stegoman offered.
“That would make double sense—why this side is green and the northern side is desert,” Matt said. “I have to say this for Prester John—at least he keeps communications open. The road just keeps going, straight through the mountains and the desert, even here hundreds of miles south of Maracanda.”
“It is wise for merchants as well as soldiers,” Stegoman pointed out.
Dimmed by distance, Matt heard something thudding. He looked up and stared. “Friend, that ain't no caravan!”
Stegoman lifted his neck, gaining a higher view of the sparkling mass that had come in sight over the horizon. “Indeed not. It fills the roadway and twinkles as it goes.”