Magistrate of the Dark Land

Part Five

by G. Lawrence

The warrior women in the city

This is a fantasy novel providing high adventure and romance, but there are no dragons or wizards. Well, maybe a little bit of magic later on. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: Having defeated renegades at the Battle of Varna, Owen returns to Arbor.

* * * * * *

Chapter Six

SAVAGES IN THE CITY

Our company reached Arbor late the next day, the town still recovering from the raid a month before. The bridge had been repaired. Wagons once again brought produce from the countryside. A stone sentry post now protected the bridge on the east bank guarded by a young soldier in chainmail. He carried a halberd like one new to the service, the blade pointed carelessly.

"Hold, strangers," the youngster said, coming forward to block the bridge.

Another guard and a junior officer stood back watching for trouble. Beyond the bridge, the gate tower was well-manned while two archers patrolled the walls. Having left the farmers at Varna, it was now just the Farina and I who rode the trail, mounted on the six best steeds. Twelve riderless horses carried our supplies and trade goods. Many of the empty saddles were draped with the weapons, boots and belts of slain marauders, including the tattered Azure banner, evidence that we were not a group to be trifled with. I was bundled in a faded gray woolen coat and long blue cape, a floppy black hat protecting my eyes from the sun. As was their way, the Farina rode in red leather, shoulders and thighs bare but with black capes should they need protection from the weather. Lithe swords hung from their belts. The sentry was appropriately respectful.

"Step aside, male, we have business in the city," Obina impetuously said, a bow across her lap. Yana and Cathe hung close to her flanks armed with spears.

"Calm yourselves, sisters, we are not among enemies," I urged with a sigh.

"Heed Magistrate's words, Obina. There are too many males in this city to slay in one day," Jalana said, the words spoken light-heartedly. The guard stepped back to look at me more carefully.

"God Almighty. Oswald, look, it's him," the youngster suddenly shouted. The junior officer rushed forward in alarm but quickly lowered his sword.

"The name is Owen Vander, is it not?" the officer asked, also dressed in chainmail.

"It is," I answered, surprised.

"Welcome back to Arbor, sir. Godfrey, send word to Captain Toban. Hurry!" the young officer ordered.

As the soldier dashed across the bridge, we dismounted and followed at a slower pace. I didn't know if the Farina had ever been in a town as large as Arbor, watching should they grow nervous. Just past the crest of the bridge, I saw the charred railing where I had been gutted and tossed in the river like week-old fish. I shuddered and put a hand to the wound that refused to heal quickly. Yana walked at my side, brushing elbows. She had been on the bridge, too. I looked into her eyes and saw that she understood my apprehension, though she probably didn't share it. By the time we reached the docks, a crowd of fifty persons had gathered, mostly warehouse workers, vendors and fishermen.

"Magistrate, we thought you killed," an old woman with graying hair said, rushing forward to take my hands with tears in her eyes.

"Praise God," another woman said, her two young dirt-smudged children staring in awe.

"It's a miracle," an older gentleman said, a distinguished man wearing an expensive felt hat. He put a hand over his heart and raised his gaze skyward.

I did not understand. Few people in Arbor had known my name on previous visits, and only a handful especially cared. I had no reputation there as a magistrate or any other cause worth noting. A tall soldier in stiff leather rode from the gate on a black stallion, halting just before us. His dark curly hair was cut short, the eyes deep blue and face ruggedly handsome. I supposed him to be in his late twenties. He looked down at me as if refusing to believe his vision before jumping from the saddle. Much to Jalana's anger, he pulled off my hat for better study.

"God's breath, it is you," the soldier said. Then, to my astonishment, he went down on one knee. "Sir, you do not know me. I am Captain Elias Toban of the Arbor Watch. But I know you. I was one of those cowards who rode past you on the bridge while you saved our women and children. Can you forgive me?"

I struggled to remember, and then it came back to me. Several soldiers, all apparently wounded, had crossed the bridge riding double on frothing horses. They had fought the enemy in the town square before superior numbers forced their retreat. They were not cowards.

"How is the arm, Captain?" I asked, recalling a severe laceration.

"It grows stronger. How can you be alive? A hundred people saw you die," Toban said, looking at me like I had risen.

"Please stand up, sir. Looking down at you hurts my neck. And don't ask forgiveness. It was a hard day. All did what they could," I answered. Toban smiled gratefully and stood up, similar in height to myself, though not so broad in the shoulders. Young, strong and intelligent, just the sort of garrison commander the town needed. The warrior women at my side stirred with interest, jostling closer for a better look.

"You look tired, Magistrate. Name what you will and it is yours," Toban offered, waving to indicate we should enter the gate.

"I had a room at the Lost Prince. Does it still stand?"

"Indeed it does. We will guide you there and care for the horses. Your women, too, of course. We can find dresses for them. Such fine beauties need not play at being warriors," Toban said, almost fatally.

"Play? Do you seek blood insult, male?" Obina said, drawing her slender double-edged sword and putting it to his throat.

Toban was taken completely off-guard, Obina's speed beyond anything he would have imagined from a woman. Several guards reacted in defense of their captain, the people scattering, but Jalana pushed Obina's blade aside and raised her hand for attention.

"There will be no swordplay this day. Obina, camp outside the city if you have no respect for Magistrate's counsel," Jalana ordered.

Obina sheathed her sword. The guards relaxed. I had trouble suppressing a smile, but as Captain Toban observed, I was tired from the trek. One with a gut wound does not ride a horse without paying a price.

"These are not my women, Captain. They are Farina of the Red Leather clan. To disrespect a Farina is dangerous," I warned.

"It will not happen again," Toban wisely promised, rubbing his throat where the blade had made an indentation.

The Lost Prince Inn had been too far from Main Street to molest, though the stables across the street had been emptied. Parasol was gone, much to my relief. Our horses were taken inside even though the few already there needed to be evicted. The blacksmith took charge of our goods, eyeing the weapons with admiration. I would let him agent the sale if he proved honest. At the door of the inn, I noticed the crowd following us had swelled to several hundred, blocking the cobblestone street entirely. It never occurred to me that the struggle on the bridge received so much attention.

"Magistrate, your return is as welcome as it is unexpected," the innkeeper said. "I will accept no money from you. Will you have the same room? Will all of these women be sharing it with you?"

The middle-aged man, bald and round in the middle, looked at the Farina with a ravenous eye, and at me like I was a satyr. My legend was growing. He would not have thought me so vigorous had my thoughts been revealed, for I looked at the steep staircase like it was the tallest of mountain trails.

"We will have privacy," Jalana suddenly announced, driving back the crowds of people filling the entry. "All may return later when Magistrate has taken rest. Now leave. All of you. Except you, male. You will stay a moment."

Jalana indicated a burly brown-haired youth, barely eighteen years old, who stood to one side. He looked at me with hero worship, and at the women with what lies in all men's hearts. Once the room was cleared, Jalana turned to the youth with a hand on her dagger.

"Magistrate is plagued with injuries from defending your town folk, yet I would not have city dwellers know this weakness. Carry him up the wooden cliff and say nothing of it, now or ever," Jalana ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," the youth said with a gulp.

With hardly an effort, and much to my embarrassment, the young man scooped me into his arms, carrying me up to my old room on the third floor and setting me on the wide bed. To my delight, the bed was freshly covered with clean sheets and smelled of rose water. Jalana spent a moment inspecting the top floor and reached a quick decision.

"This tree house has many branches. We shall use them all," Jalana declared to the brown-haired youth. "You will find a healer to consult Magistrate. Tell the innkeeper to bring ale and food. We have silver to pay our way."

"I will tell him, ma'am. And I know a good physician. My uncle Hermet. He will help and say nothing of the cause," the youth agreed.

"What is your name?" Jalana asked, taking a liking to him.

"Bram, mistress," he replied.

"Sisters, do any of you find this Bram worthy?" Jalana asked.

It was a foolish question. The barrel-chested youth was tall, clear-eyed and square-jawed. His muscles were like bands of steel.

"We each have an interest, war captain," Dalena said, her cheeks flushed.

"Bram, would you care to return and serve my warriors?" Jalana asked, knowing it would be improper to take him by other means.

"Serve?" the young man asked, clueless to the ways of Farina. I intervened.

"Bram, these are lusty young wenches who have missed manly attentions. Perhaps you and a few friends can show them Arbor's hospitality?" I requested.

"Yes, sir!" Bram agreed with the biggest grin I've ever seen. He bounded down the stairs, his feet hardly touching the steps.

The room was much as I'd left it. My mother's medicine bag, abandoned during the attack on the town, was still tucked under the bed. I looked toward the rafters and had Yana reach into a dark recess. The money belt was still there, the gold Sir John had entrusted me with to find his daughter. I sank back into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

"You will sleep after the meal, Owen," Jalana said, sitting on the bed and stroking the hair from my forehead.

"How can I sleep, war captain? We're in a town where laws are held as dearly as those in your forest, yet are the sisters quick with their blades at the slightest insult. The injury that may follow will lie heavily upon me, for I alone am responsible for bringing you here."

"Owen speaks true, sisters. Each must uphold his honor or stay in this room without reward," Jalana declared.

It was a difficult choice for the forest women, for they were proud and forthright. In time, all agreed, setting aside their swords but keeping daggers in their belts.

"What of you, war captain? Will you not seek reward?" Cathe asked, offering her leader a wink.

"I will sleep here in Owen's arms. That will be my reward," Jalana said, though it did not seem like much of a reward to me. I nudged Jalana's thigh, seeking to change her mind. She slapped my hand away.

Doctor Hermet arrived fifteen minutes later, an older gray-haired gentleman with a practiced bedside manner. He made me lay back while poking at my midsection. I protested.

"Be quiet, Owen," Jalana ordered. I stopped protesting.

"You must stop aggravating this wound, sir. It will never heal if you stay so active," Doctor Hermet concluded. "This salve will help, and I have willow bark to reduce the pain. You must not sit a horse for at least six weeks, and even then, you will still suffer occasional inflammation."

"Six weeks is too long. I have places to travel," I objected.

"You'll be taking a trip to the next world if you don't heed my advice," Hermet answered, frowning as doctors will.

"Magistrate will be careful," Jalana promised.

Hermet left, not telling me anything I didn't already know, but the visit did allow me to order new medical supplies. I expected to need them in Kannae.

The innkeeper's buxom wife appeared, a finicky lady with a stern manner. Necessary to hold her own against unruly patrons. She carried a tray of flank steaks, biscuits, and ale, with beans and sprouts on the side. Enough for Jalana and I. Bram waited outside the door to escort the young women downstairs to the tavern. I was still worried but let them go, making Cathe promise to watch after her sisters.

The room grew quiet as Jalana and I ate, I on the bed and she in a red-cushioned chair. The food was excellent, our quarters comfortable. I broke the silence.

"You should go downstairs. You deserve a celebration," I urged.

"Someone must watch you. You are a foolish male always getting into trouble."

"That is certainly true," I said with a laugh. "Nevertheless, you will find eager company among the music, wine, and attractive men downstairs."

"Other than your weakness, why can't I find eager company here?" Jalana asked.

I turned my head away, drinking the last of my ale in a gulp.

"We have discussed your guilt and dismissed it as a foolishness of your fevered brain," Jalana lectured me impatiently. I sighed, saddened by her anger. The last thing I wished to do was hurt her, yet what else could I do? I had not yet answered for my crime and could not stand trial until the lost daughters were recovered. Jalana sensed the heaviness that dampened my spirits.

"Your god makes evil demands upon your soul," Jalana said.

Perhaps it was true. I moved from the bed to a curtain hiding the chamber pot, removing my trousers to relieve myself. A lead pipe provided disposal of the waste to a barrel in the inn's basement. When I emerged, Jalana stood before me in her natural glory, the hunting leather tossed over the chair. By all that's holy she looked beautiful, from the long black hair and wondrous black eyes to the fine curves of her luscious figure. My heart beat faster against my will. Jalana stepped forward to remove the rest of my garments, slowly and teasingly. Then she pushed me on the bed.

"Farina find insult in rejection," Jalana whispered, crawling next to me and pulling up the covers.

"I see your revenge now, war captain. You seek to slay your weakened victim by more subtle means," I teased. Jalana made her supple strength clear. And that she intended to use it if necessary.

"Not so subtle," she answered, kissing me gently.

* * * * * *

Sleep in the inn was more difficult than on the quiet trail. The tavern downstairs stayed active until well after midnight due to boisterous drinking and loud singing. When at last it seemed the revelry was winding down, the forest women brought their choices upstairs to the adjoining rooms, making such noises as I had never imagined. Several times I thought the walls would cave in from their doings. I wasn't sure of the time, but late toward moon's end, the door crept opened.

"Who's there?" I asked, reaching to light a candle. I found Yana, nude from head to toe, long yellow hair about her breasts, kneeling on the floor looking for something.

"I, Magistrate. All is well," she whispered.

"What are you doing, sister?" Jalana asked, even sleepier than I.

"Searching for my sword, war captain. We have a male tied to the bed and seek to tease him as warriors will."

Jalana rolled over to go back to sleep, the explanation made.

"No, leave that weapon be," I said in shock.

Yana's face darkened. Males do not tell Farina when or where they will hold weapons.

"Owen, what's wrong? They only play," Jalana said.

"Not with swords. Towns are different than the forest. The male may think you'll harm him," I explained.

Jalana nodded that she understood my point, but not that she agreed. Her dark hair shined attractively in the moonlight.

"Leave the sword, sister. There will be other males to tease," Jalana ordered.

Yana expression grew sad. She neither agreed nor understood.

"Must we release him?" Yana asked in disappointment.

I heard no cries for help, nor did I believe they would gag their prey. When I had been guest to the Burnt Leather queen, I had never been gagged regardless of--

"No, you don't need to untie him. But promise you won't hurt him," I granted.

"Thank you, Magistrate," Yana said, her smile returning as she ran from the room.

"Maybe we should camp outside the walls from now on," I questioned.

"The girls are just celebrating. And why not? You have brought us three glorious victories over slavers."

"Me? You planned the attack on the wagon camp. You organized the defense at Varna, and you led the night raid on the Azure. These are your victories."

Jalana laughed. "Owen, you're such a fool. Who brought my sisters back together? Whose trail did we follow to the wagon camp? Who agreed we would protect the town folk? I did none of these things."

There was no point in arguing with the woman. Farina I had known were never shy when it came to boasting of their conquests. Jalana was apparently different in this respect. I put my head back into the soft feather pillow.

"What are you doing?" Jalana asked, propped up on one elbow.

"Going back to sleep," I said.

"I am awake. How am I to go back to sleep?" she asked, her hands on my chest.

* * * * * *

The next morning, I washed my face in a basin and ate corncakes for breakfast. The innkeeper's wife, named Martha as my wife had been, brought me gray wool trousers, a long-sleeve white linen shirt, and a black weave dress coat. The high collar with blue trim was very stylish, and the addition of a black string tie made me quite the gentleman. Jalana wore red hunting leather. When we went downstairs, there was a crowd waiting.

"Magistrate, we need words," a wide-girthed town official said.

Jalana did not like the man's demanding tone, nor the aggressive bustling of the dozen citizens jammed between the stairs and the door. She moved in front of me with a hand on her dagger, the quarters too close for a sword. As if by magic, her four sisters were suddenly on the staircase above us, pushing down to stand at Jalana's side. The townspeople were startled, and awed, for such women leave an impression no one forgets.

"We come as friends, Magistrate," another said, a slender merchant in a silver silk jacket. Many others were dressed in rough silk and fur, not ostentatiously, but enough to indicate their prominence. Of the group filling the small entry, only Captain Toban was armed.

"Magistrate will hear your words, but do not press too close," Jalana warned.

The crowd moved back, many spilling into the tavern. Captain Toban chased out the few locals eating breakfast and commandeered the room, the tables pushed together to make a conference area.

"Ale for all, especially the young lovelies," the heavy merchant ordered.

I was seated at the head table with the fireplace behind me, Jalana on my right, Toban on the left. The Farina stood behind us, still wary of the anxious men who thought themselves so important. More people came in from the street including a group of well-dressed women, crowding along pinewood bar.

"Reverend Josler sends us word of your victory over the Azure. The Azure were among those who attacked our town," the slender merchant said.

"We thank you for the justice, Magistrate, and come asking for more," the heavy merchant explained. "I am Jack Weathers, Mayor of Arbor. With us sit the city fathers and some of our wives. You know Doctor Hermet and Captain Toban. Cyrus is leader of the Merchant Association." He indicated the slender tradesman, who bowed his head.

"The Azure are broken, your town restored. What justice have I to offer?" I asked.

"We have no law, Magistrate. Our constables have no guidance. The courts are meaningless shadows. Even our militia lacks direction, though Captain Toban tries his best," Weathers explained.

"We need you to restore order," Cyrus pleaded.

This I had not expected. Though honored that such important men would consider me worthy, this was no time to resume my abandoned profession. Not with the missing daughters still at risk. Nor did I understand why they wanted me.

"Certainly, you must have many capable of such a post?" I asked.

"Old Judge Potter is dead this last year. Judge Herckle was killed by the raiders. Even our advocate is gone, disappeared in the night," Mayor Weathers recounted. His shoulders were bent with anxiety, the eyes red from lack of sleep.

I looked at the town fathers with the question still in my mind. They looked at me wondering if the gloomy fate of the town's justices gave me pause. No one would accept such responsibility without serious thought, but that was not what troubled me. God expects selfless service from those who administer His laws.

"Magistrate, let us be clear," an older woman standing at the bar said. I guessed her age at sixty-five years plus a few seasons. Her gray head was held high, the chin out. Weary eyes gazed from a hawk-nosed face. The room fell silent when she spoke, indicating a high degree of deference. "I am the Widow Potter. My husband sat the High Bench for Good King Tarten, and what quiet we had came from the justice he gave us. Judge Potter spoke well of your administration in Arthur County and lamented your loss. Your defense of our town is known to all. That you sought out and destroyed the Azure gives hope. We need a man such as you, Owen Vander. A man who commands respect, for only in this way will our troubled times ever again know peace."

The tavern was quiet, only the fire making any noise, unless you include the pounding of my frightened heart. I knew of Judge Potter, of course. His decisions were required reading for as long as anyone could remember. I had even met the revered jurist on several occasions, though we never had a long conversation. For his widow to speak so well of me was an honor. That I was wholly unsuited to take his place went without saying, yet all of these important people were seeking my help. Suddenly the room felt extra warm, the air hard to breathe.

"Ladies and gentlemen, such esteem is unwarranted," I finally managed to protest. "I'll do what I can, but I have important business in the north that cannot be delayed."

"Your quest for the kidnapped daughters?" a distinguished man asked, the one who had discussed Hogarth's pamphlet with me outside the barber shop.

"Yes, sir," I respectfully replied.

"We can help," Mayor Weathers said. "Information will be gathered. Letters written. As our magistrate, you may issue warrants with the force of law."

"And you will have the militia for support," Captain Toban promised.

These were valuable assets indeed, yet how could I postpone the quest? Each day brought additional danger.

"What's wrong, Owen? Don't you wish to help these city dwellers?" Jalana whispered so softly only Captain Toban might hear.

"We cannot afford the delay. We should be on our way in two days' time. Three at the latest," I whispered back.

Jalana frowned at me and actually turned angry. A hand was on the hilt of her dagger. Captain Toban scooted his chair back in alarm, as did many of the dignitaries. Jalana stood up and turned to look at her sisters. Something in her glance spoke to them. Each nodded agreement without speaking. Such is the way of the forest where sound can be an enemy. She held up her hands for attention as the room fell silent.

"City folk, Magistrate will remain in Arbor until the second moon. All of your ills will be amended," Jalana announced.

The townspeople let out their breaths in collective relief, shouts of gratitude filling the hall. Pitchers of ale were placed on the tables, the goblets filled. Captain Toban shook my hand, and the widow of Judge Potter came forward to kiss me on the cheek. Everyone began discussing what to do next now that the judicial question was settled.

"For Owen Vander, Magistrate of Ravenshire," Mayor Weathers said, providing the toast. The title caught me by surprise, for I had expected to confine myself to Arbor Township, not the entire county. Yet the mayor had deduced what I should have remembered, the competing needs between town and shire being intrinsically linked. It would not be an easy task. Arthur County had been a large but rural jurisdiction. Ravenshire included Arbor, Rhysem, and a dozen smaller towns. I worried if the county's needs could be served by a backwoods lawyer.

"I'll need to review the rolls and dockets," I said, trying not to look as unhappy as I felt. Jalana dismissed my glare of displeasure.

When the guests left to gather their committees, I finally had a chance to speak privately. Other than the Farina and myself, only Captain Toban remained. He stood off at a discreet distance.

"Explain, war captain," I demanded, angry and mystified. "Are your sisters no longer important? What of rescuing the lost daughters of Falmouth Crossing? Is my pledge to mean nothing?"

Cathe and Yana stood to Jalana's right, Dalena and Obina on her left. All were concerned by my display of temper, yet none were offended as Farina should be. No blades were drawn.

"You are a foolish man, Owen. More foolish than most. But we of the Red Leather have chosen to call you brother, so allowances are made," Jalana replied, arms crossed over her chest.

"Many allowances," Obina added in disapproval.

"But made gladly," Yana said, taking my hand.

"We know your heart, Magistrate. We love you for it, but my sister speaks truly of your foolishness," Cathe said, hugging my arm.

"Then maybe someone can explain it to me," I said, touched by the sentiment but still upset that my quest had been forestalled. They seated me back at the table and poured me a cup of watered wine. Captain Toban took a chair at the bar, watching but saying nothing.

"Owen, you cannot travel," Jalana softly said. "We know how strongly you wish to proceed, but you grow weak on the trail. This does not help our sisters."

"We have seen this city called Arbor. It is large, the burrows many and hard to explore," Cathe said. "You have said Kannae is many times larger. Farina are brave but we are not stupid. If we challenge such a city, we will fail."

"And our sisters will be lost forever," Dalena added.

"You are wise in your plan to buy our sisters from captivity, for there lies their greatest hope. What hope have they if you are dead?" Obina asked, frowning at me under her dark brow.

"We are agreed, Owen. There is risk in allowing our sisters extra weeks in captivity, but little chance of success without your help. You must remain here until the wound improves. Would you do it hiding in the tree house or helping the city folk?" Jalana asked.

I drank the wine. The sisters were right. I couldn't travel far in my present condition, and instinct told me to assist the people of Arbor despite my fear of failure.

"What are your thoughts, Owen?" Jalana asked.

"Sisters, I believe you have done the thinking for me," I answered.

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

Arbor responded to the threat of marauders with spirit. Like many towns who thought themselves immune to attack, they had taken the danger too lightly. It was not a mistake they would make again. As I walked the streets with Captain Toban a few days later, he showed me the town square where the Watch had made their stand. The west gate was now reinforced, the guard doubled.

"We still have many challenges, Magistrate," Toban said. I thought him young, though in truth, he was only a few years younger than myself.

"You should call me Owen. After being called magistrate at court all morning, I'm weary of the title. The mayor was right. It will take several weeks to straighten out the backlog of cases."

"Is that all?" Toban asked.

"The writs need review and amendment, but the clerks will do most of the work. The lack of constables is more pressing. We need two more deputies once a new sheriff is selected."

"I've considered applying for the office," Toban said.

"What is your profession when not commanding the garrison?" I asked.

"Working with my father at the produce stalls. We sell vegetables and fruit from the lake country."

"Elias, your work with the garrison is good. The defenses better than before, but I think we need a different sort for sheriff. A man more accustomed to the rough ways of outlaws," I advised.

"I'm strong. A good fighter," Toban insisted.

"No doubt, but bringing criminals to justice takes more than fighting skills. One must be canny. Suspicious. Knowledgeable of evil. I suspect you have too good a heart."

We finished inspecting a new palisade guarding the approach to the west gate and returned down Main Street. People smiled and tipped their hats. Bread and drink were freely offered. That the confidence they felt was all out of proportion to reality disturbed me, but nothing good would come from correcting their false perceptions.

"I would ask about your women," Toban said as we passed through town square where the flags were flying proudly.

"They are not my women. Farina are fierce and free," I quickly said.

"Yet they do your bidding."

"That is not the case," I insisted.

"None will call you a liar, Owen, but we see what we see. Even now, the women act upon your command to train the new recruits," Toban said.

"They do what?" I asked.

Toban smiled to have caught me off-guard. We turned south past the warehouses to the field where the wagons had been parked. There were still many wagons but now moved closer to the corral, leaving the space open for training. Eighty young men and a dozen young women were formed in ranks, most holding longbows or spears. Scores of townspeople, including Mayor Weathers and Widow Potter, sat on shaded benches watching. Jalana stood before the assembly, her brow furrowed. The forest women stood behind her. Yana held her bow. Dalena and Cathe had spears ready. Obina was armed with her sword.

"We will try the exercise again. And again," Jalana shouted. "We know you are but city folk incapable of true battle, yet courage lies in the heart, not the sword arm."

The militia, both veterans and novices, were dressed in brown leather, only a few of the regular garrison wearing chainmail.

"I would have thought your men contemptuous of women warriors," I whispered to Toban.

"As they might, had their fame not spread from Varna. And while you were reading old documents in the courthouse, Jalana has been drilling my militia. She's the sort of woman a man can only dream of. They all are," Toban said, truly smitten.

"Are we ready?" Jalana asked.

"We are ready, war captain," the recruits responded in unison. Jalana nodded to her women and they took prearranged positions.

"Swords at the front," Obina ordered.

"Left flank, spears at the ready," Cathe followed.

"Right flank, spears at the ready," Dalena yelled.

"Archers, set your ranks," Yana called.

The militia jumped to obey, breaking into units to form a battle line facing the south wall where straw dummies formed the enemy army. By the speed of deployment, I would say they had been at it for several hours.

"Your women speak of battle as ones taught from birth," Toban said.

"It's their way," I affirmed.

"Magistrate, welcome to our training," Mayor Weathers said, rushing to shake my hand. "Your women are well schooled, no doubt a tribute to your expertise. Maybe you can show us how such wonders are performed?"

"Excuse me?" I said.

"If you can teach women such confidence with weapons, I can only imagine what you'll do with the men," he answered.

Jalana heard the remark and walked over, a swagger in her gait, the sword waving from her belt. She had added a short brown jacket and high stockings to her outfit. Her headband held three yellow feathers, the mark of a commander in the field. The look was incredibly attractive, giving Toban and I the same salacious thoughts.

"Magistrate, you arrive just in time. Now the real training may begin," Jalana said.

I laughed. I didn't know if Jalana was joking or putting on a show for the townspeople, and it didn't matter. I wasn't going to take credit for her skill.

"Does the war captain of the Red Leather now practice magic?" I asked.

"Magic?" Jalana said.

"You turn city folk into warriors. Is this not magic?" I suggested.

"They are far from warriors, but each seeks to defend their land and families. In this they are no different than Farina. To gift them with a warrior's knowledge brings much satisfaction. And some aggravation," she answered.

There was a clash of steel. Acting as the enemy, Obina, Cathe and five veteran volunteers were driving against the militia's right flank and pushing them back. Seven against twenty. The archers under Yana's guidance were still firing ragged volleys at the targets. The spear formation supervised by Dalena was having trouble holding formation as two young guardsmen rode horses along their front. Jalana's brow bent in frustration.

"The city folk will stand their ground before I'm through with them. By the Dread Goddess, I swear it!" Jalana growled, running back to reorganize the training.

"Jalana has taken our town under her wing. As you have," Toban said.

"We are both creatures of duty," I responded, returning to the courthouse for several more hours of work. Toban went to join the training.

The courthouse is on the second floor of town hall, a structure of red brick with carved oak doorways. Wide windows overlook the tree-lined square. I was given Judge Potter's old office, a great honor and heavy burden, for many people were already thinking their problems solved. Life is never so easy. The backlog was not merely criminal indictments, but common writs, property disputes, probates, and inquiries from other jurisdictions. The two clerks were trying their best but many documents were not drawn following the correct procedures. A few suspicious items indicated undue influence. I put out a request to the Merchant Association for four accountants, giving me enough staff to make headway.

My court would be seeing busy days, especially after notices were issued to plaintiffs and defendants. In theory, the judgments were illegal, for decisions issued in the king's name are invalid without a king. But the land must have order. The people needed justice. And as Hogarth had so strongly advocated, citizens should have a right to institute such authority as necessary for the common good. It was still a radical thought, that people might govern themselves, but I saw no practical alternative.

As the day drew to a close, I set aside my black robes and walked back to the practice field. Militia officers were now giving the orders, the Farina off to one side. Jalana was wise. The sooner command was established among their own, the sooner the militia would be ready to fight. I had never seen such a grimy, tired-looking bunch in my life, the schooling I'd had as a youth in Arthur County being mild by comparison. Perhaps if we'd had such instructors, I wouldn't have fled the field at Barlington and lived forever as a coward.

The sun was close to setting. Captain Toban formed the militia in four ranks, his garrison of twenty-four soldiers in another, and dismissed them with a hearty shout. The troops howled approval, thanked the Farina, and dragged their weary carcasses home for much deserved rest.

"This has been a good day, Magistrate. A good day. Not since we lost Captain Mulberry has the guard felt so strong," Toban said.

"You are not strong. You are babies," Obina said, her hair hanging in sweat-soaked clumps. She rubbed her overworked sword arm, no doubt in pain helping the trainees learn to defend themselves.

"Not all are babies. Several actually know how to fight. Now maybe they will fight better," Dalena said, her shoulders sagging.

"They are not hopeless," Jalana agreed, more tired than any of them. Even her voice was strained from shouting orders. "A long moon is not much time, but maybe enough to make a start. How of you, Magistrate? How goes the battle of endless arguments?"

"A long moon is not much time, but enough to make a start," I replied.

Though excited, the women were also exhausted. Filthy with dirt and sweat. They had given their all to make the training worthwhile, knowing no other way. The Widow Potter came forward, walking quickly yet with such dignity that she appeared slow.

"You have done Arbor noble service, ladies. More than mere thanks may express. Yet we may try," the widow said. "What do you think, Magistrate? Are they ready for the baths?"

I almost burst out laughing even though it would hurt. To think of the Farina as pampered females in the salon drenched in lotions and perfume was beyond imagination. Would they cooperate?

"Sisters, the town mother has a special reward for you, one much appreciated by city females. Have you the patience to accept her offer?" I asked.

The Farina appeared apprehensive of anything to do with city women. The Widow Potter was surprised, expecting quick compliance rather than cautious glances.

"What trials may we expect?" Obina asked, always the boldest.

"There are no trials, child. In the baths--" the widow started to explain.

"Shame, sisters, shame," I interrupted. "Never did I think to see Farina refuse to tread where city females walk fearlessly. My eyes have been opened."

"You call us cowards?" Obina disbelievingly asked, a hand on her dagger.

"It is not I who fears the baths," I answered. Obina drew the dagger.

"You speak dangerously for one carrying no weapons, male," Obina threatened.

"What need I of weapons with sisters to stand my guard?" I asked in smirking innocence. Dalena punched Obina in the arm. Obina sheathed the dagger.

"We accept the challenge, Magistrate. But beware, for challenge bespeaks challenge," Cathe warned.

"Would you meet me with swords?" I dared.

"I said challenge, Owen. What challenge is there meeting you with a sword?" Cathe said with a twinkle in her eyes. The Farina and I laughed. Captain Toban and the Widow Potter did not, finding our conversation confusing.

We walked through the center of town as merchants were closing their storefronts, only the taverns staying open. We stopped in the square as boys lowered the flags to the beat of drums and a fife.

"What do the banners mean, wife of the dead Judge Potter?" Yana asked.

"To most I am the Widow Potter, but you are special friends. Call me Judith," the widow urged. "Arbor is not just a town. We are the seat of county government and kin to Rhysem and Brookshire. These flags represent our attachments of which we are very proud."

"Like we are kin to the Burnt Leather and the Teeton," Dalena said.

"Do they stand by you, Judith? As cousins against all others?" Jalana asked.

"Within a day of the marauding, four hundred friends and neighbors guarded our walls, tended our wounded, and rebuilt the bridge. And more would have come if needed, just as we would go to them," the widow explained.

The Farina were impressed, wondering if they had more in common with the city dwellers than originally believed.

"Has your land a queen?" Cathe asked.

"You ask a hard question, little one. Perhaps, in time, we'll know the answer. If I live enough years," the widow sadly replied.

"We had a king," I said. "He died four years ago, and his son was murdered before taking the throne. The queen mother and her grandchildren fled the kingdom and have not been seen since. Maybe someday they will return. No one knows."

We pushed on to the cobblestone streets of the merchant district, stopping underneath a wooden sign with a razor and hairbrush on it. The barber shop was to the right, the salon to the left.

"The chamber smells strange," Yana complained as we entered, glancing around the birch paneled room for danger. The floor was polished black granite. Beautiful Tournai tapestries adorned the walls.

"Soap root mixed with flower essence," Dalena immediately guessed.

"Not soap root. Rendered fat," Cathe accurately stated.

"Why do the candles reek?" Obina asked.

"The air is moist. I sense hot springs," Jalana said, looking for the source.

"Hot springs? Why do I not smell sulfur?" Yana questioned.

"Ladies, calm down. You are here to relax," the Widow Potter counseled, suppressing a smile. The salon had curtained dressing rooms to one side. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. Though often closed after sunset, two young maids remained wearing short white cotton dresses. There was also a male helper, tall with broad shoulders and large hands. A friendly youth but perhaps not very bright. He wore white trousers and a tight black shirt accentuating his muscles.

"Welcome to The Duchess, ladies. Never before have we such guests," one of the maids said as she curtsied. "I am Melinda. You may undress behind the curtains. Belle will help you to the baths. Samuel will take your outfits for freshening."

The Farina hesitated.

"Afraid?" I said, reminding them of the challenge.

Obina wrinkled her nose and was the first to strip, not bothering to use the curtained room. Though shorter than Yana and Dalena, she was stronger than either, firm lines of muscle showing in her arms and legs. Cathe went next, the smallest of the group but nicely proportioned. They tossed their leathers in a pile, daring their sisters to follow. Yana and Dalena shed their clothes next, Jalana going last.

I think the Widow Potter was embarrassed, though naked women in the salon could not be unusual. Samuel gathered up the soiled outfits and fled the room, his pale cheeks flushed. Belle produced cotton robes for the women to wear. I stood back at the doorway ready to leave, pausing only to admire their magnificence. Not just the physical beauty, which any dim-witted lout could see, but their confidence and camaraderie. And even on the cool stone floor of a city salon, they moved as spirits of the forest.

"First the steam chamber, there to sweat out the day's labor. Then to the scented baths," Melinda giddily announced. "From there you will lay on the padded bench while Samuel works out the body's trials from your tired flesh. His touch is as no other."

"His touch?" Dalena asked, pulling the robe tighter.

"Samuel will massage your body until you melt with delight," Belle promised, all a bubble with excitement. The Farina looked at each other in disbelief.

"We are to submit to these indignities?" Obina was first to say.

"Scrubbed and petted like infants?" Jalana also objected.

"This is what we do here. You are at The Duchess. The finest salon in Arbor. Special arrangements are made," Melinda said in distress.

I laughed and turned to go. Cathe blocked the door.

"To where do you flee, Magistrate?" Cathe asked.

"I'll spend another hour in my office, then return to the Lost Prince for dinner," I explained.

"And leave sisters to the mercy of bathers?" Cathe asked.

"A salon is no place for men," I said, trying to go around her.

"Nor a place for warriors, yet here we are," Obina responded.

Suddenly Jalana was at her side. Yana came up behind me. Dalena grabbed my cloak.

"No, stop," I protested, backing against the wall.

"Challenge begets challenge," Jalana said with a devilish grin. She grabbed my shirt as Cathe yanked down my pants. The sisters closed in knowing my ability to resist was limited.

"Thank you, Judith, perhaps you should leave now," Jalana said to the Widow Potter as they pinned me on the floor.

"Enjoy, ladies," Judith said with a smile, abandoning me to my fate. The two salon females were shocked, standing away from the fray that was short in duration. Jalana handed Belle my clothes.

"Give these to the pretty male for cleaning," Jalana ordered.

"Yes, mistress," Belle frightfully agreed.

"And bring an extra robe for Magistrate, we don't wish to be cruel," Jalana added.

It took a few minutes to recover my composure, the speed of the attack completely unexpected. I was carried to the steam room, a chamber of smooth slate, and handed a crystal cup of rich red wine. The female assistants made everyone comfortable before receiving dire instructions.

"Do you see this wound?" Jalana asked, pulling my robe open far enough for the purple bruise to be seen. Not that it hadn't been apparent before.

"Yes, mistress," the young maids said.

"You will say nothing of it, nor anything else having to do with warriors. To speak is to forfeit your tongues. Understand?" Jalana said.

"Yes, mistress," the girls shouted, terrified and awed, for already the Farina had become their heroes.

I settled against the wall as steam filled the chamber. It felt so good a sigh escaped my lips. Though accustomed to steam tents in the forest, the Farina had never imagined a civilized bath before. It took them longer to relax.

"There will be talk, you know," I teasingly mentioned.

"Then they will die," Obina swore.

"No, sister, not about the doings of warriors. The girls will not betray your trust. But word will spread that the Magistrate shared the baths with five ferocious forest women. The town will treat me as a god of masculinity."

"What a wonderful joke," Cathe said with a laugh.

It was a good joke.

We lounged as the steam increased. Judith Potter's gift was thoughtful and much needed.

"Tell us, Owen, what weighs so heavily on our friend," Yana asked. I thought it a casual question, but the interest shown indicated otherwise.

"Must I bore you?" I asked.

"We are not ignorant savages," Obina said.

"I've never said you were, bravest of the brave. Do you really wish to hear of farmers arguing over invisible lines in the dirt? A merchant's grievance? Or a crime that has no witnesses? Would you study indictments for villains long since fled from proper jurisdiction? Do you wish to know the legal difference between a will and a legacy, and why families will fight over it with great bitterness?"

I was tired, and it showed.

"We will learn these things, for we wish to know of peoples who live by such rules," Jalana said. "Now tell us what really troubles you?"

I took a quiet breath before answering.

"There is little good to be said of events in the north," I reluctantly admitted. "Trade is bottled up in Kannae due to conflict between the barons. Duke Rykar turns a blind eye to the slave trade. Lord Kirkon secretly supports it. Baron Lackston and Lord Dudley of March struggle over the lower Fork. We can expect no help from the nobility, and probably little from the city administration."

Jalana slid over, nestling next to me. The women had removed their robes to enjoy the fullness of the steam. I kept mine.

"Abide in a warrior's patience, Owen," Jalana said, stroking wet hair back from my ears. "None wish our sisters free more than we. All would see those you've come to rescue returned to their mothers. We walk in hope, but thrive by the grace of the Dread Goddess. Live each day as it comes."

I tried to take her advice to heart. As a judge I live by the calendar, but battle is not so predictable, and it would be a battle to find the missing daughters. I needed to accept that or wear myself out with worry.

"Tell me of the training, warriors. Perhaps I'll learn something," I requested.

We steamed and bathed. Samuel gave the women a massage like nothing they had imagined, sighs and groans escaping in grateful gasps. I took my massage from Melinda despite a moment of jealousy from Jalana. After two hours, our bodies refreshed and clothes cleaned, we marched back to the Lost Prince for dinner. A bevy of young men were ready for another boisterous evening. This time Jalana and I joined them.

* * * * * *

Our stay in Arbor lasted until the beginning of the second moon, just as Jalana had promised. They were among the busiest days of my life, for the court needed a firm footing to prosper. My resentment at having been pressed into service was long past, the duties reminding me why I had sought a career in law so many years before. At no time had I ever perceived issues so clearly, nor gained so much pleasure from resolving them. But the quest could wait no longer.

"To our last night among city folk," Dalena said, raising her goblet in a toast as she'd learned in the taverns.

"May the city folk thrive with fewer warriors among them," Obina offered.

"Do you think there will still be warriors in Arbor after the Farina leave?" I asked, teasing her.

"Yes, Magistrate. The few we found are now many, and in time there will be more. The city folk are braver than they look," Obina said, her praise rare.

"The garrison at Watchman's Point will welcome your company. From there you may view the river traffic for our return," I said again, knowing they were still unhappy with the arrangements. I thought it better they stay at the castle during my absence.

Our final meal in Arbor was in the quaint two-story cottage granted us by the town fathers. Located on the north side above Spring Street, it had a pleasant garden in the front and a private well on the side. Three upstairs bedrooms were plenty for our needs, and the dining room more comfortable than one could expect, with padded chairs and elegant dinnerware. A long mahogany table was our nightly gathering spot before the women went downtown to the taverns. I occasionally joined them, though usually I worked each evening sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace.

"Our stay has had many benefits. Jalana was wise to give us this time," Dalena said, though it had not been her opinion at first.

"Maybe we can visit again on our journey home?" Yana suggested.

"Many males will be glad to see us," Obina said with a smile.

"But their women won't," Dalena laughed, for it was true.

"You're quiet tonight, Cathe. Is something wrong?" I asked, passing a plate of roast chicken around the table.

"I was thinking of the men you punished. The slavers caught at the old bridge," Cathe said, recalling my most recent case.

"They deserved the punishment. Many women taken by kidnappers die, as Jalana might have. That only two were hanged was generous," I defensively said, aware some thought my sentencing harsh.

"Two lost their right hands," Dalena mentioned.

"They drove the wagons," I explained, reaching for the potatoes.

"Four were lashed," Yana said, remembering the blood.

"They all should have stood the gallows," I insisted, still troubled by my leniency. "Word has spread that kidnappers find no safe havens in Ravenshire."

"And five girls are free who would have known only chains," Obina said, no more sympathetic to slavers than I.

"I do not dispute the punishment, Owen, though to see men strangle on the false tree was difficult. There is no honor in such a death," Cathe remarked.

"They deserve no honor," Obina said.

"A sword would still be better," Jalana contributed, having said it before the sentences were carried out. Jalana and Obina were eating well, Yana and Dalena less so. Cathe wasn't eating much at all. I put biscuits and gravy closer to her plate.

"Is this what bothers you, Cathe?" I asked.

"No, had the slavers been captured in the forest, their end would have been crueler, as is fitting," she said. "I'm surprised at that which you call trial. The slavers swore bitter revenge on the young guard who discovered them, and on the eight city dwellers called jury. And most bitterly of all did they threaten vengeance against you if you passed judgment. Yet still did the young guard bear witness. The ones called jury gave verdict. And you passed judgment. You invite death from their fellow slavers, yet the girls are not of this city. They have no family or clan here."

"I wondered of this, too. Are all city folk so reckless?" Dalena asked.

"It is not recklessness, sister. When all do their part, all share the benefits. Arbor upholds the law now that order is restored. In my home county, we uphold the law there. When each county, township, and village stand together, outlaws have no refuge. Our kingdom was strong in this manner once, and with God's Grace, someday we will be strong again."

I sat back to sip a hearty wheat beer, my sermon over. The Farina remained quiet, but I don't believe they were overwhelmed by my civics lesson. Community obligations are not unknown in the forest. Something else was bothering them.

Planning on an early start to Kannae in the morning, I turned in after dinner but had trouble sleeping. It wasn't a full moon, but getting close, so I quietly got out of bed and put on my boots. Jalana stirred.

"Where are you going, Owen? Not the chamber pot again?" she whispered.

"No, down to the docks. I feel like looking at the river," I answered.

"Wait and I'll go with you," she answered, beginning to search for her clothes.

"Stay here, my brave eagle, I want to speak with some of the bargemen. They'll be afraid if you come."

"And you'll be afraid without my sword to guard you. Only the meaner sorts walk the docks at this hour."

"I'll be without your sword at Kannae, I'd best get used to defending myself."

"And maybe pigs will learn to fly," she said.

I laughed and gave her a kiss. A trace of light showed through the window. I could almost see the pout on her face.

"I won't be long. An hour at most," I promised.

"It had best not be longer if you know what's good for you," Jalana swore.

The night was chilly. I wrapped myself in a heavy fur cloak, a gift from Judith Potter, and walked toward the east gate. The streets were gloomy, but not so unsafe as in times past. Few dared the penalties I had imposed for robbery.

"Stand and be recognized," a sentry challenged as I approached the guard tower, the youngster standing in a dark niche at the foot of the stairwell.

"It's Magistrate, Michael. Good to see you alert," I complimented, the youth barely more than nineteen years old.

"Thank you, sir. Going upstairs?" he asked.

"With your permission," I answered, knowing he would be impressed with the request. And it would remind him of his responsibility, for if I asked permission, he would expect it from everyone.

"Of course, sir. Please proceed," Michael said.

I trudged up the damp stairwell, wide enough for only one person at a time, emerging on a catwalk overlooking Wagon Bridge and the docks. It was nearly midnight, but torches still lit the activity below me. Bargemen were playing cards and whores plied their trade. A wagon parked near the bridge was selling spirits. Footsteps approached from behind. I put a hand on my dagger but didn't draw it.

"Owen, you're out late again," Captain Toban said, taking a seat next to me on a wooden bench.

"It's good to see you, Elias. Late for patrol, isn't it?" I asked.

"Not so late. I have few duties in the morning. Better to make a presence when it commands the most respect," he said.

I recognized the advice. It was from Jalana, making me wonder if the young man still aspired to the sheriff's office. If so, he would be disappointed. I had already decided he was too good-natured for such a post.

I produced a flask of rye whiskey, a small helper to get me through the evenings. The river traffic was slow at night due to the swift current under the bridge, most of the boats tied up at the docks or anchored in the harbor.

"Is going to Kannae wise?" Toban suddenly asked. I shared the bottle with him.

"Have you a better plan? Should I take the Farina in with swords swinging?"

"In Arbor, maybe. Not Kannae."

"Keep my girls safe, Elias. I'm counting on you."

"I thought they weren't your girls."

"I was wrong."

I had been wrong. I'd fallen in love which each of them as sisters, daughters, and friends. Except Jalana. There was nothing sisterly about my feelings for her, but this I kept locked in my heart for nothing good could come from it.

We each took another sip of whiskey. The sky to the west was dark with rain clouds. Fall would be cooler than usual. The Great River rarely iced over but the tributaries might.

"Many in town don't want you to go. They think it better to send a delegation. I agree with them," Toban said, having volunteered for the mission.

"I would like that, too, but how would it return the stolen women? If Kannae's High Council respected the law, would any of this be necessary?"

"Perhaps not," he conceded.

"I'll avoid trouble. Inquire discreetly. Let the gold do the talking. If God is kind, I'll find the daughters and slip out of town quietly. There'll be no trouble on the journey home."

"If you leave Kannae by water," Toban said.

"A barge is our best chance, but if it doesn't work, I'll buy a wagon. At Trodden we can rent a flatboat for Crowley or stay on the road to the River Moth. I have friends in Barlington."

"What if someone discovers who you are?" Toban asked with a worried furrowing of his brow.

"What is there to discover?" I asked in surprise.

"Owen, are you a fool?"

"I'm getting very tired of being called a fool. It's been said too often lately. And I don't think I'm a fool. Please explain," I insisted.

"You're the Magistrate, for God's Sake. Everywhere people are talking about standing up to outlaws like you've done. Restoring order. Word has even spread to Brookshire and Piedmont. Kannae's council may think you spy on their city. Or allies of the slavers may seek revenge. Enemies will be looking for you."

This was not good news, but it was only the opinion of an enthusiastic young man hoping to join the quest. I seriously doubted anyone in Kannae would give me a second thought, and my known enemies were few. I did think it unfortunate that Obina's attempts to improve my swords skills had proven so dismal.

"Have you spoken of this with Jalana?" I asked.

"She mentioned it to me. All of your women are concerned," he confessed.

"Don't let them worry so much. I'll return in a few weeks and all will be well," I assured him.

Lord was I a fool.

* * * * * *

To be continued in part six, Misery and Death in a Corrupt City