Hope of Earth (26 page)

They slept, without event, though Jes remained alert for sounds, just in case. It was part of her manly training, never to, be caught off-guard, even during slumber.

In the morning she rearranged her homespun cloak, tying it in the masculine way. From here on, she would play the part of a man. Fortunately the clothing of men and women did not differ much; both wore loose-fitting garments that hung from the shoulder. Either a cloak called a peplos, or a sewn tunic called a chiton, made of homespun wool. The wealthy might don a cool linen chiton during the warm months, and have underclothing to alleviate the roughness of the wool. So about all Jes had to do, to change genders, was to tie a band of cloth around her chest to flatten her breasts, and arrange her short hair in the masculine way. And set her face in the somewhat superior mode men affected, especially in the presence of women.

There was one other thing: She used a peplos that had a special property. She had made it herself, and taken considerable trouble. It was reversible, sewn so that either side could be the exterior. The “male” side was rough gray; the “female” side was dull yellow. No man would wear yellow, unless in a play where he portrayed a woman.

They got in the boat, and set out across the channel. Jes stroked tirelessly, not pushing herself beyond her pace, for the distance was what would have been a day’s march on land. Now Wona had to participate, because she knew the likely consequence of a wrong direction: much longer time in the water, and possibly getting caught by a wrong current or wind and being borne entirely out to sea. Neither of them wanted that. They were hardly friends, but they had a common mission to travel safely. Meanwhile, in the long silences, Jes could pretend she was alone, and experience some of the deep relaxation of it. She knew that she could never actually row aboard a trieres, because she lacked the huge tough muscles, but by herself she could dream.

In six hours they made it to the mainland shore. Jes had not pushed herself too hard, but her arms knew they had had a solid workout, and she was glad to give her legs a turn. She hauled the boat to a thicket and concealed it carefully. Normally coastal residents respected private property, but after the devastation of the raiders that might have been here, it wasn’t safe to make assumptions.

Then Jes slung her bow over her shoulder, made sure of her knife, and was ready to travel. Wona, of course, was rested.

They set out on the hike westward. They were now on mainland Attica, the home territory of Athens. Jes had been here before, when trading on rare occasions with coastal folk, so knew there was a road not far inland. They walked until they encountered this, then Jes turned south.

“But isn’t Athens west?” Wona asked.

“It is, as the crow flies. But it will be much easier to follow the road, because it follows the contour and is clear, as well as leading past sanctuaries and settlements. It will curve west soon enough. All roads in Attica go to Athens, ultimately.”

“Oh.”

They followed the road south, and sure enough, within the hour it curved grandly west, passing a defiled sanctuary and a harbor with wreckage. The raiders had certainly been here.

There was something in the road ahead. It turned out to be a human body. Wona averted her gaze, but Jes kneeled to examine it. It was a man, his blood turning brown on the dirt, his equipment gone. Evidently a farmer or laborer, caught and murdered by the raiders, robbed and left where he had fallen.

“I don’t like this,” Jes murmured, a coldness going through her gut. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Now she had to steel herself for violence.

“I hate gore,” Wona agreed.

Jes grimaced. She wasn’t partial to human gore herself, but it happened. They had seen the leavings of occasional quarrels on Euboea. “He hasn’t been dead long enough.”

“What does it matter? Two days or five days, he’ll still stink.”

“Precisely. He doesn’t stink. This man died within hours.”

Wona half turned, nervously. “Hours?”

“There has barely been time for the ants to find him. He was killed this morning.”

“But that means—”

“That the raiders are still here,” Jes finished grimly. “Probably a rear guard, to see that stragglers are collected, and that no Athenian troops are massing for a counterattack.”

Wona was increasingly alarmed. “They are supposed to be gone.”

“They are gone from Euboea, if they ever touched it. But this is farther in toward Athens. They must have recalled the outlying parties before withdrawing the main force. That’s standard practice. An army needs spies ahead and behind, so it neither walks into an ambush nor allows an ambush to close in its rear. The peripheral troops are probably headed north now, after a final sweep. But we had better be watchful, in case some remain in the vicinity. We are following closer than we thought.”

“Yes,” Wona agreed, looking rapidly about. “What of this one?”

“We’ll leave him. We have to reach a safe place to sleep, by nightfall.”

Wona nodded. “How far to—to a safe place?”

“There is a walled settlement within range by nightfall, if we travel well. I haven’t been there, but I know of it. From there it should be only another day to Athens.”

They resumed their trek, faster than before. Wona had been a slight drag, but now she kept the pace very well. She had good legs, and could walk when she had to.

But with raiders actually in the area, would walking well be enough? Jes knew that they would be foolish to gamble on that. She would have to educate Wona for war.

“You have a knife,” Jes said.

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Ye&.”

“Demonstrate.”

Wona fumbled inside her garment, hauling out a tied purse-bag.

“You should have it readier to hand than that,” Jes said sternly. “If we encounter raiders intent on mayhem, you must be ready to defend yourself instantly. I can’t do it all.”

Wona nodded, appreciating the point.

“Now pretend I am a man grabbing for you,” Jes said, turning to her. “How do you dispatch me?”

Wona lifted the knife up above her head, pointing down.

“No good! He’ll just knock your arm aside and take it from you.” Jes demonstrated by blocking, then catching the woman’s arm and twisting it slowly until the knife was about to drop. She took it from the flaccid hand and stepped back. “Now suppose I am the woman, and you the man. Come at me.”

Wona reached for her. Jes brought the knife up from below her hip, until the point touched Wona’s belly. “Fast and hard, there, where he is soft. Twist as it enters. Then step back and let him fall.”

The woman seemed about to vomit. “I couldn’t—”

“You would rather be beaten, raped, and killed?” Jes asked harshly. “This will not be a nice, gentle man like Sam whom you can twist around your finger. He will likely see you as a fruit to be bitten and thrown away. You may have just one chance to get him, before he gets you. So keep this in mind, and act when you have to.”

Wona nodded wanly.

Jes had mercy on her. “Maybe we won’t encounter any raiders. We just have to be ready, in case.”

But in another hour, as the road bore northwest, they encountered exactly that kind of trouble. An enemy party of five men was marching down the road, toward them. Enemy mercenaries.

“Spartans!” Wona exclaimed.

“No,” Jes said tersely. “Persian mercenaries.”

“How do you know?”

“The Spartans generally don’t use bows. They have bronze helms with red plumes. These men use wicker shields covered in leather, and cloth head wrappings.”

“You know a lot about warriors,” Wona said, impressed.

The two groups had sighted each other at the same time; it was too late to leave the road and hide. “This is mischief,” Jes muttered, bringing her bow down from her shoulders. “Too many to fight, too late to escape.”

“But they’ll—”

“Kill the man and rape the woman,” Jes said. “To start. We don’t want that. We’ll have to use desperate measures. I’ll flee; you open your robe and scream helplessly.”

“But your oath—”

“I’m not deserting you!” Jes snapped. “I can take out two with arrows; you can take out one with your knife, as I showed you. Don’t let him see it before you use it. It’s the other two we have to finesse. You must distract them, just long enough. Trust me, and do your part. Do you understand?”

Cunning showed through Wona’s fear. She did have half a notion of the ways of necessity. She nodded. The knife was in her hand, hidden behind a fold of her robe.

“Wait for my signal,” Jes said. “Remember: underhand, hard into the gut, and twist.” Her heart was pounding, but she had already appraised the opposition. It was a rag-tag bunch, rather than a disciplined group; they might have been drinking pilfered wine while on patrol. Two had bows; three had spears. She had to take out the bowmen first.

She kneeled, nocking an arrow and taking careful aim. She had never before taken aim with intent to kill a human being, but she abated this concern by reminding herself that the enemy would surely do worse to the two of them if it got the chance, just as she had told Wona. Unless she could bluff them off.

The raiders kept coming, shouting battle oaths in their own foreign language. That was another sign of their ragtag status; well disciplined Spartan phalanxes often marched silently into battle, not wasting energy. These brutes had little respect for a party of two, especially when one was a fearful woman and the other had the appearance of a stripling boy. They probably expected the boy to prostrate himself and beg for mercy—which he wouldn’t get. Stripling boys were preferred by some men to women, and would be treated similarly. Also, a prime means of acquiring slaves was by capturing them in battle, so they might have a continuing use for a stripling.

When the raiders were close enough to see that the boy had his bow aimed, they paused. Then the two bowmen laughed and unslung their bows. They thought this would be easy.

They were well within range. Jes pictured them in her mind as dangerous animals, and loosed the first arrow. It caught one bowman in the chest, a perfect shot. He went down immediately.

Glorious! Jes realized that her fear had left her. She was now a cold fighting machine, doing what she had to do. She was also relieved that these were not first line troops, because their armor would have turned her arrow.

The second raider got off one arrow before she could properly aim her second. But his missed her. The key to success was to take time to aim, and to have one’s mind completely clear. She loosed her second as the man was standing, trying to see the effect of his own arrow. He was criminally stupid, and he paid for it by taking her arrow in his stomach. He wasn’t dead, but he would be in time.

The three others, realizing the danger in separation, charged forward. They were stupid, but not cowards. They were lifting their long spears and shields. The only good defense against arrow fire was a shield; only drunkenness and overconfidence explained their vulnerability to her first attack.

“Now!” Jes said, running off the road.

Wona screamed on cue, and her robe fell open to reveal her fine breasts. She fluffed out her long hair, looking extremely feminine. She wasn’t good for much, but she was excellent at appearances.

The three charging men exchanged shouts. Then two ran off the road, pursuing Jes, while one continued directly toward Wona. Good; they were separating.

Jes ran, not too fast. The two men gained, sure of their quarry. She glanced back. The third man caught up to Wona, whose breasts were flouncing like her hair. “Now!” Jes screamed again.

Then Jes whirled on the two, bringing her bow about, with its loosely nocked arrow. She aimed as she drew back the string.

Caught by surprise, both men reacted in phenomenally stupid fashion: they came to a sudden halt, staring.

Jes loosed at point-blank range. The arrow transfixed the larger man’s chest, and he was done for. She felt another surge of battle glee.

The last man hurled his spear, belatedly. His arm was good, but Jes had anticipated it, and was already moving out of the way and turning sideways to present a narrower target. It missed her, but the man was already almost upon her. There was no time for another arrow.

But she had dropped her bow as she dodged, and was reaching for her knife. She brought it up.

The man paused again, and this time not stupidly. He was, after all, a soldier, accustomed to combat. His own thrusting dagger was in his hand, and it was a monster, far larger than Jes’s knife. In fact it was a short sword.

Jes’s eyes widened. So did her mouth. Clear dismay gutted her courage. She started to turn to flee.

“Haa!” the man cried, thrusting the sword straight at her. She smelled wine on his breath, and saw the slightly clumsy manner of his attack. He was pretty well inebriated, and that was her great fortune. Her odds would have been much worse against fully prepared troops.

Jes was already dodging back and turning again. The thrust missed to the front as she stepped sideways into him. Her small blade came around and caught him in the throat. “Fool!” she muttered as he went down in blood. He had fallen for one of the elementary ploys: fake fright.

She swept up her bow and turned back toward the road. One figure stood; one lay on the ground. Had Wona been dispatched? Then the figure waved, showing its bare bosom.

Jes ran back to the road. The man lay groaning, the knife still in his chest. Wona was in tears and hysterical. As Jes stepped onto the road, Wona almost leaped at her, flinging her arms around her. “I did it! I did it!” she sobbed. “Just as you showed me. It was awful!”

Jes held her, understanding. She herself had trained for exactly this type of encounter, but she had never killed a man before. Now she had killed four. The sheer need for action had prevented her from realizing its significance, but now that it was done, her battle mindset was fading, and she was shaking.

She realized with surprise that Wona was providing her with comfort she needed. They were comforting each other. She had never anticipated that. She had never been Wona’s friend. She still wasn’t. But for this instant, they needed each other. The horror of the killing each had done was overwhelming. Now, perhaps, they had a kind of understanding. Because they had both just been blooded.