The Burning Sword (2 page)

The next morning was clear and bright, the sun stretching long, warm rays of light down towards them, though no one but Faith seemed to appreciate it. Everyone else looked strained and worried, rushing about to pack last minute things for the journey ahead of them, double checking their rations.

She felt left out, of course she did, but she didn’t give anyone the satisfaction of reading it on her face. She busied herself with wrapping up extra biscuits for her closest brother, who was looking as if he might faint with anxiety. She would rather give him her share of the biscuits for the month than sit at home and eat them herself, worrying about him.

Having six brothers had always been something that Faith had half liked, and half disliked. They had always wanted to protect her, ever since she was little, and despite the fact that they liked to pretend that they were tough and manly, they had all had a soft spot for their small sister. Whilst it was comforting for her to know that they were always there for her, she often wondered what it would be like to have a sister; someone she could share the woes of needles and thread with. Her mother seemed to delight in doing fancy tapestries and embroidering clothes, and couldn’t understand Faith ’s dislike of all things fancy and embroidered. However, whatever she thought about sisters, she was going to miss all six of her brothers far too much. She choked up a little just at the thought of what would happen if one of them didn’t make it back.

All too soon they were setting off, and had five minutes for a goodbye. Tom, the brother closest to Faith in age, was the first to say farewell, his face very pale. He was barely a year older than her, and had always been a bit weaker than the rest of her brothers. Faith gave him a hug, pressing the biscuits into his hand. Flashing her a grateful, if not feeble, smile, he ruffled her hair and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Faith ’s three eighteen year old triplet brothers, Nathaniel, Philip and James, came next, all together, as usual.

“Where’re my biscuits, then?” Nathaniel asked teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood. Faith gave him a gentle shove.

“Bake your own,” she told him, sticking out her tongue.

Faith ’s eldest brothers came next, one, Ben, nineteen, the other, Will aged twenty. Both had recently been betrothed to girls their age in the village, and had already had a very tearful goodbye with them, so they were quick about theirs, as if they’d had enough sadness and goodbyes for one day.

Then came her father. She didn’t look at his face, simply walking into his open arms, and giving him a farewell hug. She hadn’t wanted to see the stony expression as he refused to show sorrow, but she heard him let out a shuddering sigh as she stepped back from the hug.

Then they were gone. With only a backward look from the still pale Tom, they marched down the mountain in single file. Faith looked up at her mother to see that she was gnawing her apron anxiously. Feeling unwilling to talk to anyone at that moment, she went to get the chicken food, and walked to the chicken pen, hoping her mother would let her off the darning today as there wasn’t much to do now that the majority of the clothes had gone with the majority of the family.

She had never been good at the domestic side of life, and as she failed the men’s work too, she must have been an
all-round worthless member of the village.

Now, that’s not the way to think, she told herself, firmly. She didn’t know what was wrong with her; usually she was of a cheerful disposition, but the farewell seemed to have drained all the happiness out of her.

The chickens clucked merrily at her, guzzling their food as if they were starving, which, to be fair, they probably were. Faith was glad of their noise; the village was far too quiet at the moment, as most people were still standing outside their homes, staring at the point at which the men and boys had disappeared, as if they could still see them.

Shutting the pen up, she walked slowly back to her home, trying not to think about how empty it would be without all her brothers inside it. She was just going through the door, when a loud voice broke through the relative quiet.

“Can everyone meet at the well now, please?”

Faith turned around, to see Margaret, a middle-aged woman with grey streaked hair, stood on top of a stool, shouting the message round to everyone. Intrigued, but slightly anxious to discover what Margaret had planned, Faith made her way with the others to the large well that sat in the center of the village. Martha found her way to Faith ’s side, and gave her an anxious look. Margaret was Henry’s wife, and equally as pleasant as her husband. Faith was only thankful that they hadn’t had any children yet.

Margaret seemed to be enjoying the responsibility of having called a meeting, and she surveyed them all from her stool with a particularly smug look.

“My dear ladies,” she began, rather sickeningly, and Faith rolled her eyes at Martha, who suppressed a chuckle, rather cleverly turning it into a sneeze. Faith thought she would have to learn that trick; her explosive giggles were forever landing her in trouble.

“As you know, we no longer have the men to provide for us.” Faith was tempted to roll her eyes again, but thought better of it, as her mother was watching her with a rather fierce expression on her face. “Therefore, us ladies need to have a go at all the things the men usually do,” she continued. “They have already chopped enough wood for us, but fetching water and feeding animals will need to be sorted out.” She paused, as if waiting for applause at her intelligence in working this obvious fact out. “I suggest, my dear ladies, that we share the work together. If a group of us sit and sew together, another group can start cooking the food, and another group still can feed the animals and fetch water.”

I’ll admit, she has a point, Faith thought, although she’s missed something. She looked up at Margaret, who was still on her stool, and raised her hand.

“Yes, Faith?” the woman asked, far too sweetly. “What is it?”

“Will we have a group who hunt for the food?” Faith asked, much less sweetly.

Margaret raised her eyebrows and gave a fake little laugh. “My dear, whatever do you mean?! We have plenty of oats and grain, and vegetables; we have no need of meat.”

“We’ll need the meat for the strength,” piped up Martha, who reddened as everyone turned to look at her.

“Martha’s right,” Faith said. “The army could be gone for months; we’ll need to make sure all our food lasts as long as possible.”

The small huddle of people were all jostling each other and murmuring. Faith wasn’t sure if they were jostling in support, or in disgust at the idea of hunting for meat. Personally, she hadn’t particularly liked the idea of killing animals, but she was feeling practical about it; she’d eaten meat for her entire life, and if she hadn’t, she probably wouldn’t have made it through the long winters when the food supplies grew low.

“My darling Faith ,” Margaret cooed. “You do realize that we are all- well, mainly- dignified ladies. Dignified ladies do not go after animals like wild savages, swinging axes and hollering!”

“Well, if we don’t, we’ll all be dignified corpses then,” Faith retorted, and was pleased to hear a few chuckles from the group, as well as another sneeze from Martha, who had evidently just giggled again herself.

Margaret was seething, her fists clenched, breathing hard through her gritted teeth. “But you don’t know how to hunt,” she said, weakly.

Faith rejoiced; they were winning ground much faster than she’d hoped.

A young woman spoke up, tear streaks still clear on her pretty face. “If we don’t learn to hunt now, when we need to it will be too late to learn.” This was Sibyl, recently engaged to Faith ’s brother, Will. She faced Margaret, unabashed, and seeing an opportunity, Faith butted in.

“I’m sure there would be a great deal of volunteers.” She hoped there would be anyway. “None of those people who consider themselves dignified would have to holler, or swing axes for that matter.”

Margaret raised her hands to silence the uproar that Faith had helpfully caused. “We will vote on it,” she announced. “Everyone in favor, raise one hand.”

Faith stuck up both, just in case. She needn’t have worried. Almost the entire group of young women and girls raised their hand, easily outnumbering all of the women who hadn’t voted, and who looked rather disgruntled.

“Very well. We will have a hunting party.” Faith let out a whoop, but quickly stopped her celebrations, after being shot a look full of daggers from Margaret.

The rest of the morning was spent sorting out the groups. Faith was made leader of the hunting company, as long as she promised not to holler or accidentally kill anyone. She wondered how she was meant to try and accidentally kill someone- surely the word ‘accidentally’ prevented it.

All in all, she had fourteen girls ready to hunt with her, meaning they made a good, solid fifteen when she counted herself. Martha looked a little nervously at the kitchen knife Faith handed her, but the overall feeling was of excitement. Faith thought this was all well and good, but decided to hand knives to the more responsible members of the group, rather than risk any other enthusiastic knife wielding. The others held nets and slender sticks, waiting ready for her command. It was almost like having her own army, she thought, as she smiled at them in encouragement.

“Well, there’s no point in waiting; we might as well see just how well we get on. Sibyl, if you lead the way towards the forest,” Faith called out, thinking it would be safer to hunt in a large group until she was entirely sure that everyone she had trusted with knives could be counted upon to use them.

Martha turned to look at her. “Look at you, all responsible!” she teased, earning a gentle poke in the back from Faith ’s stick. “Well done, though. We’ve got a good group here.”

Faith chewed her lip as they entered the sparse trees, which grew thicker towards the middle of the forest. “I just hope we can prove Margaret wrong, and return with enough food to make her eat her own words.”

Martha nodded in agreement. “We’d better.”

“Okay!” Faith called out. Everyone stopped, excited, looking round at the place where they had paused. It was right next to several entrances to the many rabbit warrens, andFaith motioned them to all surround an entrance each with their nets spread across the holes, with a knife holder stood next to it. Faith put out a carrot, hoping the rabbits all had a keen sense of smell.

Before long, something struggled in a net, but the pair who held the net and knife, named Annie and Marian, were so excited to see it, that Marian, who was holding the knife, slashed at the net rather than the rabbit, and the rabbit tumbled out of the shreds of material, dashing back into the hole.

Faith regretted giving Marian a knife, and told her to walk back to the village, and mend the net with Annie. They all resumed their positions, but the rabbits must have known something was up, for not one of them returned to sniff out the carrot.

Two hours later, Faith thought there wasn’t much point spending time with frightened rabbits, and as the best they had caught was an elderly badger (two of her group had accidentally covered up a badger set rather than a warren) and that they had set free because it looked tough and, frankly, quite disgusting. They returned, with a great deal less enthusiasm than they had gone with, but the thing that drained Faith of all happiness was the smug look on Margaret’s face when she saw them return empty handed.

“We were training,” she explained. “We’ll be bringing back food anytime soon.”

“If you say so,” Margaret replied, with a look that told Faith plainly that she wouldn’t be expecting any meat whatsoever. She felt strengthened, strangely, by Margaret’s disbelief, and her resolve to succeed at hunting increased. They would catch meat for the village, if it was the last thing they all did.

Faith ’s hunters worked as hard as they could over the next few weeks, learning slowly but surely. Martha had the brainwave of tying the knives to the end of sticks, making a sort of makeshift spear. This meant that they could finish off the creatures they caught from a distance, making it less distasteful.
 
The first person to successfully catch and kill a rabbit had been- to everyone’s surprise-Sibyl. Faith had always thought of Sibyl as a rather delicate girl; she was small and slender, with long hair and large blue eyes. However, she proved everyone wrong by capturing a rabbit in her net with a quiet sort of efficiency, and neatly slitting the neck of the creature, making very little mess.
The look on Margaret’s face when they came home with a rabbit, despite it being just one (and a small one at that) was enough to instil in them all a highly positive attitude. All of them were sure that soon they would be bringing in half the warren, and as their optimistic nature increased, they soon found that they were indeed catching more rabbits; Faith and Martha caught their first one together, Martha using her new spear, while Faith held the net firm.
By the end of their first month, they were bringing home an average of three rabbits a day; plenty for stew or pie, and everyone was grateful for their efforts. Without the meat, there would have been only the very basics, and the meat helped them to feel as if they were still eating enough. 
Faith wanted them to catch more, but a lack of edible creatures meant that it was near impossible. When Isabel, a cheerful, but rather clumsy girl, caught the elderly badger for the third time, they decided perhaps it was hinting at something, and killed it, taking it back. However, the meat was indeed tough and chewy, and had an odd flavor to it. They left the badger meat idea, resolving only to resort to it in a case of emergency. 
The wild boar that lived in abundance in the forest presented a challenge to the hunters. The men who had hunted before had given them up as impossible, as their sharp yellow tusks and hooves presented far too much of a trial, and they had more injuries after attempting to catch them than was worth it. 
Faith could still remember the one delicious day when they had caught one, however. Someone had had a broken arm after catching it, but nonetheless, the smell of bacon frying, and gammon cooking on the fire after it had been cured, still lingered in Faith ’s nostrils. The taste had made rabbits seem dull, and berries seem tasteless. They all longed for that again, and she thought it would be a fitting morale boost for all of the women, who, at first had been amply distracted by their new tasks and routine, but were now getting anxious and depressed, wondering when their sons and husbands would return.
So they devised a plan. Martha suggested that they hung in the trees above, waving their spears at the wild boar as they ran through the forest, while others waited with spears at the bottom.
At first this seemed like the only way, until Sibyl suggested using their nets. She showed them how tying small rocks to the sides would weigh it down, and, if thrown accurately, and preferably from above, this could capture the boar, so that those on the ground could kill it with less of the risk. 
Intrigued, they tried it out, Faith assigning Marian and Annie to run through the forest in turn so that they could practise catching them in the net. They rather enjoyed this, squeaking and grunting as loud as they could in an attempt to make their role as prey as realistic as possible. At first Faith ’s slow count of one, two, three, drop didn’t work. They were too fast, too slow, a little to the left, a little to the right. It seemed as if it would never work.
Annie and Marian lay collapsed on the ground, legs and throats exhausted, as the others reviewed their plans. Martha suggested that they dug a trap; Isabel wondered if they could hurl knives at it, which rather worried the others, who thought the pig would probably be the safest if Isabel was aiming for it; but Faith caught sight of some wild mushrooms, and suddenly realised what they needed to do.
They waited. Faith clung onto a branch, her face rubbing against the familiar smelling bark as she watched. Martha was in the tree next to her, gripping her corner of the net tightly in her hand. Across from them, Sibyl and the strongest girl in the group, Helen, was next to her, all of them clutching their nets. 
The others were all crouched around the bases of various tree trunks, barely visible if you glanced over at them. The wild mushrooms they had all collected were in a pile right in the center of the small clearing they had chosen, the four trees they were sat in all conveniently placed to make it easy for them.
They had been sitting this way for half an hour when they heard something crashing through the nearby forest. Everyone tensed, suddenly silent. Something was snuffling nearby; Faith saw it coming closer. It was a boar, and a fat one too. She could almost smell the bacon.
It seemed the boar had realized that the mushrooms were already picked and ready for him, and he approached them eagerly, grunting. Faith felt almost sorry to kill it; it seemed to have quite some character. Banishing her silly thoughts by remembering what it would taste like, and what it would do if it found fifteen girls surrounding it, she raised her hand, holding up three fingers.
The boar snorted with pleasure as it gobbled up the mushrooms. Faith bent one finger down. Two.
Martha, Helen and Sibyl all watched her, waiting for the command. One. Go.
At once, all four of them dropped the net. Flying swiftly, it fell, landing right on target, so the boar was well and truly caught. It struggled, then squealed, thrashing about as the girls waiting on the ground dashed out, holding onto the corners of the net so that it couldn’t escape.
Faith scrambled down from the tree, straight over to where the girls were holding onto the boar. Helen was already down from her place, bravely keeping the boar’s head still so no one was in danger of becoming gored. It had stopped struggling, as was eating the remainder of the mushrooms. Faith wondered just how much this creature loved food.
“Who did we say would kill it?” she asked. Everyone looked at the boar wistfully, having grown ever so slightly fond of it. “Any volunteers?” 
Not one person spoke. Sibyl pulled out her knife. “I will,” she said bravely, motioning for some of the girls let her through.
Helen stayed in her position, holding the boar’s head still so the sharp tusks weren‘t endangering anyone, talking to it in a soothing voice. Faith felt a burst of guilt, wondering if she could justify killing the poor animal. 
Sibyl gritted her teeth, and cut the boar’s throat. The boar squealed, and flopped onto the ground. She had done a good job; it was neatly cut, with only a small amount of blood spilled. Faith patted her shoulder, and she smiled, rather weakly. The others stood round the dead boar. 
“We did it!” Isabel cheered, instantly lightening the mood. “We’re better hunters than those pathetic men!”
Faith couldn’t agree more, and they all worked together, tying the boar to two of their sticks, so Helen and Marian could carry it between them, while Faith and Martha folded up the net, making sure it wasn’t broken in any way.
The mood was bright as they made their way back to the village; everyone was anticipating the delicious meat that they would have for dinner, and Faith looked around happily. She hadn’t known many of the girls she was now spending so much time with very well before. Usually, she had gone about her jobs, snatching snippets of conversation with Martha, and sometimes Isabel, but the others had been about their own tasks, and in the evenings, sat with their own families, around their own fires.
The only time they had ever come together was at the various festival days. On some of them, the boys had spent the entire day building a campfire, and they would all sit round it, toasting bread and melting cheese. Then she had chatted a little to the other girls, but never had she had so much fun with them. Working together, they all shared a bond; they weren’t the ‘dignified ladies’ that Margaret so greatly promoted, but they got the job done, and they had a laugh doing it too. 
Marian was chatting to Helen as they carried the boar between them; Annie had linked arms with Isabel and a sweet, younger girl named Daisy and they were laughing at something the girls in front had said. Everyone was smiling, everyone walked with a light skip in their step.
Faith looked over to see Sibyl walking alone, slightly apart from the rest of the group. She didn’t look sad, but at the same time, the smile on her face looked a little forced. Though she would never usually have spoken to someone who looked as if they would prefer to be alone before, Martha’s hospitability had obviously rubbed off on her, and she bit back her mental list of excuses, and increased her pace to catch up with Sibyl, falling into step as she reached her.
“You did a great job there, Sibyl,” she said, in what she hoped was a friendly way. It must have been, because Sibyl looked up with a warm, if not somewhat wan smile. 
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You do a very good job with leading us all, Faith . You’re a natural at this sort of thing.”
Faith didn’t know what to say; Sibyl gave compliments very carefully, as if they really meant something; Faith could tell it wasn’t mere flattery, or a polite, meaningless gesture. “Thank you,” she replied, and Sibyl smiled at her again.
They walked on in what Faith hoped was companionable silence, the babble of laughter and chatter surrounding them. Sibyl looked at her.
“It’s funny,” she murmured. “We would have been sisters.” 
Faith realized Sibyl was talking again. “Huh? What was that?”
Sibyl repeated herself. Faith was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I was meant to marry Will,” she stated. Faith stared at her, uncomprehending. 
“I know you’re betrothed to him,” she said. “I was there at the ceremony. What do you mean ‘meant’ to marry him?”
“Oh, Faith ,” Sibyl said, her eyes sad. “You do know that none of them will ever return?”
Faith stopped walking, and stared at her. “What on earth do you mean?”
Sibyl‘s lips twisted downwards as she fought her emotions. “It’s a hopeless case. Didn’t you hear them saying? They have three villages, the squatters. Our army will be outnumbered three to one.”
Faith wondered how she could have missed all this information. It hit her abruptly; they had been having a meeting, which she had interrupted. After her dramatic entrance and exit, they had probably gone on to discuss finer details, which Sibyl had overheard.
“But the squatters are weaker than us,” she said. “Much weaker.”
Sibyl looked thoroughly sorry to be breaking the news to her, her shoulders slumped, her brow knitted into a frown, but she carried on. “They have many more of them, though. I’m sorry, Faith , but there isn’t really any hope for us.”
Faith shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts into order. “If they all die… it can’t happen!”
Sibyl put an arm round her. “Look, Faith . If they all die, the squatters will climb up the mountain, and probably take us to be squatter wives. We’ll be alright, I suppose.”
“Alright?!” Faith knew that Sibyl was just trying to comfort her, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d like less. Her family dead? Taken to the squatter land? She’d rather die.
“We have to join them. Sibyl, we have to be able to fight! If the squatters do come, we can’t just go with them!” 
Sibyl gave her a sad look, and shook her head. “A female army wouldn’t stop them. It just wouldn’t, Faith , I’m sorry. Just concentrate on the here and now. I’ve given up all hope of ever seeing Will again; you should do the same.”
They had reached the village, and despite the cheering and shouts of joy as everyone saw the boar they had caught, Faith felt as if her insides were heavy with what she had just heard. Plastering a false smile onto her face, she let herself be swept up into the celebrations, but her mind was whirring with thoughts. Everyone had thought female hunters would fail, but they hadn’t- they were better than the male ones. If this was the precedent, then surely they had every hope for female fighters too. There was one thing for sure. Faith was not going to give up the fight; she was ready and waiting for a challenge.