MENAGERIE
Seven – Red Sonja is strangely touched
"Wake up, sleepy-head!"
"Hnnnh?" Sonja sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"It's a good job you're a guest," Clodia told her, "or I'd've had you up doing chores an hour ago."
"I can believe it." She sniffed. Tantalising smells were coming from the kitchen.
"Out the back," Clodia pointed.
"What?"
"The wash-pump and the privy. You've got five minutes."
"I pity the man you end up marrying," Sonja said as she headed in the direction indicated.
Breakfast was served four minutes later. The food was plain but wholesome – and plentiful. Clodia pressed second helpings on Sonja.
"You've got a long journey ahead of you – this could be your last decent meal for a while."
"What makes you say that?" Sonja asked.
"Don't think I didn't hear what you and Father were talking about last night."
"So you listen at doorways, do you?"
"In my own house, yes."
"I thought it was my house," Jharlen said.
"Men don't know anything."
"Maybe not. But I'll have a second helping too, please."
There was a pause as the implication of this remark sank in. Sonja was the first to react.
"I travel alone."
"Do I tell you where you can or cannot go? Besides; this is my village. I have the right."
Sonja conceded the point. "Very well, but just you. We're going to have to employ stealth, and you can't do that if there's a whole bunch of you."
"Father -" Clodia was the vulnerable girl again, "I – I don't want to lose you as well as mother.." There were tears in her eyes, though she fought to hold them back.
"And I don't want to lose you. But the whole village will be lost unless Galud is stopped."
"But what can just the two of you do against – against - "
"We can try. I owe your mother that much; I can see that now."
Clodia hugged her father. "Come back safe."
"I will, I promise." Jharlen buckled his quiver of arrows round his waist and picked up his bow. He hesitated a moment, then picked up an axe from beside the door-frame. Sonja looked at it. "That's no battle-weapon. That's for splitting logs."
"Is there any reason why it can't also split skulls at need?"
"I suppose not. Come on, lets go."
They set off together into the bright morning.
"Sonja!" Clodia was running after them. "Please take this." She held out something. Sonja looked and saw that it was a comb.
"It was my mother's," Clodia said. "I'd like you to have it." Sonja was speechless. She'd been given a great many gifts over the years, but it was a long time since one had touched her so deeply. She took it, and kissed Clodia on the forehead. "Thank-you. I promise to put it to good use."
Jharlen and Sonja walked for most of the day, saying little. As evening approached they made a fire and camped for the night. Jharlen had brought some bread and cold meat. After they'd eaten, Sonja sat combing her hair.
"What was you wife's name?" she asked suddenly.
"Clodia."
"Huh?"
"It is the custom here. The eldest daughter is named after the mother; the eldest son after the father."
"And is there no little Jharlen?"
"No; that was our punishment."
"Punishment?"
Jharlen hesitated before answering. "How old do you think I am?"
"Thirty?"
"Twenty-nine. And Clodia's fourteen. Which means?"
"That you had an early start."
"You could put it like that. We were just children. It was the harvest-feast. We wandered off round the back of the haystack. We didn't know anything – it just happened."
"I see."
"Little Clodia was conceived that evening. We didn't realise until some months later. The elders were furious; but we stuck together and eventually it was agreed that we would marry. But we displeased the Gods also. So – no little Jharlen, nor anyone else. Clodia's all I have in the world. She deserves a peaceful and happy life. Which is why I'm coming with you."
"Jharlen -"
"Whatever you're going to say, forget it. Now go to sleep."
Within five minutes Jharlen was snoring gently; but Sonja sat silent and watchful long into the night, reflectively turning a comb over and over in her hands.