Striking West

map is copyright Markus Harris 1997

originally posted August 1, 2006

I imagine how it might have been if we were not part of the caravan, relatively safe in their numbers. I would have chained them, still, all of them, in the tents. I would have ordered them to strip, of course, first and at the sign of least hesitation I would have torn their garments from them myself. I do not fail to include Arjentia or, more aptly in this situation 'Jenny' or 'She'. Nor do I fail to include Joy in this scenario. The propriety of a purported free woman means little to a raiding tarnsman. The irrational possessiveness of a fallen combatant means even less. Better they wait inside those tents knelt with wide thighs, stripped to the skin, than be found without interest. I would not have traveled through these fields, so close to the Voltai, without the protection of a caravan, however. Even now, as our path veers more west than south, men grouse about the audacity to do such even with the numbers we possess. To be sure, there are many such as Mathor along the caravan, either Warriors by right of caste or by the skill of their blades alone, but it is a daunting task, I have seen, to defend against such an incursion. Flames from the sky. Fire-makers. Oil soaked bolts. Canvas. It is deadly mathematics. How might I have defended our camp had Mathor not gotten the drop on that fellow? With my seven weighted knives and lack of any estimable skill? With the admittedly, oddly brave Darwin at my side, so recently in chains and being trained to heel the slippers of a lady? Would the bold tarnsman have spared a bolt for either of us on his second pass? Or would he simply have knocked us aside, his fearsome mount kicking at us with his clawed talons? I do not know. I do know one thing. Had he gotten that far, past the defenses of Mathor, through the pitiful gauntlet of my Tuchuk quivae and Darwin's doubtless ineptness with the gladius, he would have found treasures.
"We are traveling much more west than south this afternoon," I mentioned to Vesutto as we picked our way across the field. Too, though I did not mention it, we started the day far earlier than normal and, as we did yesterday, we would travel much further into the evening as well. To keep them fresh, I cut a girl from the coffle every few pasangs and allowed her to sit in the wagon for a time beside the companion, trading places with one of her handmaidens. Joy, too, took her turn in the shade despite her assurances of "I am fine, my Master." She takes a bit of pride in walking a step or so behind me, bearing the burden of my pack, but it was a long day. There are better ways to wear a woman out, in my opinion. "We will strike for the Olni River, where it flows north-to-south, mirroring the Pilgrim's Road," the Vennan informed me. "We will cross to the other side, perhaps at Port Olni, before continuing south to Lara."
It seemed a sound plan in my mind Putting a few hundred more pasangs and the breadth of the great Olni between the caravan and the bandits of Treve might not deter them should they wish to engage us again, but it could not hurt.