lukia pt 3
“Why don’t you stay and have a nice hot bath with the rest of us?”
Lukia lifted her eyes from her pile of armour and gazed with pointed disinterest at Kole.
“I prefer cold running water.” She hefted the pile onto her shoulder and made to leave. An arm blocked her way. Kole leaned on the wall and pushed his sweaty face close to hers. She thought how close together his eyes were and how hooked his nose was and, in short, how disagreeable she found him.
“Why don’t I come with you and help scrape off some of the mud?”
“Full of questions today, Kole. How can your small brain cope?” She knocked away the arm and stepped past but Kole was undeterred and caught hold of her arm. She noticed the room had gone very quiet and realised this was not a sudden whim on Koles part. There were probably a few allowances wagered on the outcome.
This was why, she supposed, women did not become soldiers. It did not seem to matter that she was far from the accepted model of an attractive, alluring, sixteen year old girl. Boyish, rough and awkward in a skirt she avoided any occasion that led to social interaction. She couldn’t dance, could only talk about weapons and fighting, and on the few occasions a boy had caused her blood to rise she generally ended up thumping him out of pure embarrassment. Nevertheless there now seemed to be some sort of competition building to be the first boy to lay her.
“You can’t play hard to get forever .”
“Kole, it’s obvious you want to fuck me because you think I look like a boy and it’s the easy way to pretend you are a red blooded male. Only we all know you spend every spare minute with that dribbling kitchen boy. Why don’t you go and make an honest girl of him?”
There were a few background giggles and Kole spun to splutter a rebuttal so Lukia stepped beyond the door. Realising he was losing he shouted after her.
“Come on Lukia. If you can fuck like you fight I can’t wait to be on the receiving end.”
Now that seemed like a solution.
She turned back and fixed him with her steel grey stare.
“You want to get this competition of yours settled? Just beat me in a fair fight - any of you - if you can!”
At the age of eighteen she was still unbeaten.
“We are to have a visitor”.
The Lord Marshall Eric Athelstein was addressing his whole family over dinner.
“The general is sending his son to stay with us for a few weeks, to get a feel for the defences here and to get to know us a little better..” His gaze rested momentarily on Lukia. After the meal he took her to one side.
“The general has been keeping an eye on your development. Unlike some fathers he doesn’t view your unladylike accomplishments with distain. Indeed, he is very impressed. So much so that he thinks you would make a fine match for his son.”
“By which you mean he views me as exceptional breeding stock. He sees a fighting dynasty in the union.”
“Blunt and to the point as ever. Yes, Lukia, he hopes you and Frith will provide him with grandsons who exhibit the same innate skills as their parents. Frith is probably the finest fighter in Meersburg for his age. And not unattractive by all accounts.”
Those accounts proved accurate. Frith was indeed very handsome and exceedingly charming. The fort females of all ages were soon bowled over by him and even Lukia had to agree that spending time in his company was not the agonising torture she was accustomed to enduring. He took trouble to make her feel less awkward and actually enjoyed talking to her about swordplay and technique. Where he really made an impression though was on the field. Strength, stamina, training, but above all an innate skill, an instinct, which got the better of all but the most seasoned opponents.
Lukia found herself quite warming to the idea of becoming a wife to this man. Just one thing niggled at the back of her brain.
They sat by the river, Frith in his tunic of deep blue velvet, sculpted to his body, white silk shirt sleeves trailing gracefully with every move and Lukia, laced into a long green taffeta dress, battling the folds which tangled her legs with every move.
“We’ve not talked about it but we both know what the Paters want. How do you feel about marrying me, leaving your family, going to Meersburg, being an army wife?”
He said the last with a little smile.
“How do you feel about marrying me? How do you feel about having the most shapeless wife, can’t sew to save her life, has to hide at official feasts for fear of embarrassing everyone with her blunt talk and uncouth behaviour.”
“You’re not uncouth. True you can’t dance - well actually you can’t walk in a dress - and you don’t know about hair or cloths or social etiquette , but there are more girls that do in Meersburg than you could shake a hanky at. You are something special.”
He gazed into her eyes and a gentle breeze blew strands of hair across her face. He raised a hand and gently brushed them aside, letting his fingers trail round the edge of her face. She was moved to raise her hand to clasp his against her - only to find she had sat on the trailing edge of her sleeve and the unexpected jolt as she raised her arm caused her to overbalance and slide gracelessly off the back of the log on which they were seated. Frith roared with laughter.
The niggle at the back of her brain leapt to the fore. As he tried to help her up she found herself pushing him away.
“I can manage!” she snapped. “Anyway, there’s something we have to do before I can agree to marry you.”
“If you mean the contest just say when.”
Lukia suddenly felt cold.
“You know about that?”
“Of course. I wasn’t here a couple of days before some of the lads told me. It will be my greatest achievement to date - becoming the man that finally beats “The Blade”.
“The Blade?”
“Yes. “Sharpe , thin, cold and hard”. Didn’t you know that’s what they call you?”
He was laughing. Somehow she couldn’t see the joke.
“And you’re sure you can?” she sneered.
“Well, yes, actually. You may be good enough to beat these backwoods bozos but come on! I’ve had the best training available and I’m naturally brilliant. Of course I’ll beat you, and let’s face it ,” he pulled her to him “You want me to.”
She pushed him away.
“It has to be a fair fight. Honour before love.”
He smiled with genuine warmth. “Very well. Honour before love.”