The Gate to Women's Country (39 page)

“Wouldn't hurt just to ask him some things,” Rel offered in Cappy's support. Leave it up to Doots and nobody'd ever do anything at all.

The three of them worked their way silently through the trees at first dawn, when the sky was still so dim that stars glimmered weakly through the gathering light. They found Chernon and Stavia lying side by side under blankets. Stavia was facedown, Chernon faceup. After a whispered conference, Cappy threw himself onto Stavia, holding her down while the other two dealt with Chernon.

Reliable was a skinny, wiry boy, strong but not heavy. Doots, on the other hand, was what the Elder Brome called “pure stove wood.” All in all, the two who had attacked Chernon had an easier time of it than Cappy did.

In the open, Cappy would not have occupied Stavia for long. She had learned how to fight, as all girls did in Women's Country: how to wrestle and kick-fight and disarm or disable an opponent. She had never learned how to do so when covered and entangled in a blanket. In the end it was the blanket which conquered her. She tripped and fell, knocking the breath out of herself, and Cappy, bruised and breathless, managed to get a rope around her wrists and force her to her knees.

“Y'got some bruises,” remarked Doots. Cappy was fingering his left eye which was already beginning to discolor and swell.

“Devils can really fight,” Cappy offered.

“Devils!” Stavia spat. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“Not a decent woman, that's for sure. Hair hangin' down. No clothes.” Cappy was having some trouble with the fact that Stavia was largely unclothed. Among the three brothers, he was not alone in this regard.

“She belongs to me,” said Chernon very clearly. “Do you understand that?”

“Whyn't you keep her decent then?” Reliable asked.

“You let her loose and shell get decent quick enough,” Chernon said.

“Don't want to have to chase her.”

“She won't run. You won't run, will you, Stavia?” he asked, nodding at her.

She thought about this. There were three of them, two holding Chernon, one ready to jump her again. “No. Not if he'll let me get dressed.”

It wasn't what Cappy wanted to do, but he had not thought this far in his plans. Doots and Rel were looking at him, waiting for a signal. If Cappy did what he wanted to, right now, then the others would want to do it, too. That way, they'd have to kill the man first, to keep him from interfering. Also, he wasn't sure he wanted them watching him. His object was to take the woman back—to maybe ask the man some questions then probably kill him, but to take the woman back. The best way to do that might be to get past this spot he was in. “Get dressed,” he demanded throatily, loosening the loop that held her hands and picking up a stout branch which lay nearby. “And move real slow or I'll bash you with this.”

She dressed herself. It had not been correct for them to say that she had no clothes on. She had been wearing a long shirt and knitted socks. She pulled on her trousers, slipped her feet into her boots, then put on her padded vest, a voluminous garment which effectively hid her torso. She braided her hair and tucked the ends in. “Even your mothers,” she offered, “get undressed sometimes.”

“In the bathhouse,” said Doots. “And that's all. Never in bed. That's not decent.”

She cast a horrified look at Chernon to find him staring at the three with the most perfect focus of concentration she had ever seen upon his face. It had occurred to Chernon that the adventure he had so long sought had come upon him. “What do you want with us?” he asked, his voice calm and interested. “You've been following us, haven't you?”

“Saw your fire,” Doots mumbled, at which Chernon quivered, only slightly, realizing the indictment without acknowledging it. “We saw her and decided to take her.
These devil women, you tame 'em down and they're pretty good wives.”

“Tame them down?” asked Chernon, still in that interested voice.

“Tie 'em up,” said Cappy. “Break their legs, maybe. They heal crooked and they can't run.”

Stavia could not believe what she was hearing. What she was hearing was not as bad as what she was seeing, however—an expression on Chernon's face which was frankly collusive. He understood these animals. He understood them from a place inside himself which empathized with them. In that instant she comprehended much that had been unclear to her before.

“She's already a wife,” Chernon said, still in that calm, interested voice. “Mine. She's carrying my baby right now.”

“Oh shit,” said Cappy, throwing the thick branch to the ground in a frenzy of frustrated purpose. “Oh shit.”

“We're goin' to take her back anyhow,” said Rel. “We're goin' to take you, too. If'n she has a baby, well, maybe the Elders'll say she 'uz married and maybe they won't. Maybe she'll drop it afore time. Women doesn't have a baby isn't really married, that's what they say.”

“And if she does?”

“Maybe they'll say you wan't no real man to have a wife nohow. Widow woman with a baby, nobody else can have her. But maybe she ain't a widow and maybe she won't have a baby, neither one.”

Cappy nodded, bending to pick up the stick again. “And the devil women know things,” he said. “Secrets. Like healin'. Things like that.”

“Oh, this one knows secrets, all right,” Chernon said. “But she's got a little magic thing in her arm that keeps her from telling. That's all right, though. I can cut it out if you want to know anything.”

“Chernon!” she gasped, shocked and surprised by this, though not at all disbelieving.

“Stavia,” he mimicked. “Better let me do it now.” He wrestled his way closer to her, dragging his two captors along, reaching out to rip away the sleeve of her shirt. “There,” he said. “See that lump on her shoulder?”

They stared at one another. After a time, Cappy nodded, and they handed Chernon a knife, holding fast to
him the whole time. When he cut her shoulder, the surprise of it broke a scream from deep in her lungs. It was surprise more than pain. Blood ran down her arm and dripped from her elbow through the fabric of the shirt.

“See there?” Chernon crowed. He was holding up the implant, a tiny sliver of translucent material, the size of a matchstick.

Stavia shivered, holding herself tightly together, refusing to speak or scream. It was Rel who ripped off the sleeve of her shirt and bound it untidily around her upper arm, stopping the flow of blood. It was Cappy who took the implant from Chernon and buried it in a pocket, Cappy who urged her to her feet.

“We're goin' back,” he said.

“We takin' him?” Doots asked.

“For now,” Cappy replied. “We'll see what Papa says.”

Stavia went haltered, a rope around her neck. Chernon's hands were tied behind him, as though he represented a greater threat. Despite the fact that Stavia had injured Cappy in the initial encounter, none of the brothers could think of her as a real threat, simply because she was a woman. Stavia realized this, took note, set the fact aside for use at some later time.

She set aside Chernon's complicity until later, as well. She told herself she would not feel what she knew she felt; she would not venge herself upon him, not yet. He had probably saved his own life by assaulting her, and he might have saved hers as well, though this had not been his intention. Aside from the small wound on her shoulder, he had not really hurt her. All in all, considering it coldly, it might be best to go along with him for the moment. Real Stavia hid in a deep, horrid cavern of hate and let actor Stavia go on with it.

The men, including Chernon, wanted her secrets. Secrets she didn't know, didn't have. Were there secrets she could pretend to have? Her life might depend on that. And since Chernon was already convinced that she had them….

She walked, lost in furious thought, devising a strategy for her own survival, setting her anger aside, refusing to feel it. The best bet might be to agree with Chernon. Claim to be his “wife.” Claim to be carrying his child. Seemingly, the customs of these barbarians did not permit
them to take the wife of another man—and wifehood was demonstrated by production of offspring.

Well, in fact, she thought in dismay, she might be able to demonstrate just that. Sperm could live for several days in the reproductive tract. Abrupt removal of the implant could prompt ovulation. Or, depend upon it, Chernon would try to get at her soon again.

“Secrets,” she stormed to herself. What did she have that she could hold out to these men as secrets?

I
T TOOK FOUR DAYS
for them to arrive at the Holyland. Rel went on ahead to inform Elder Brome that they were coming. When they arrived, the full complement of wives, children, and sons was arrayed on the porches of the wife-houses or Father-house.

Carefully and bit by bit over the four days, Stavia had changed her garb. When they arrived she was clad in her felted coat, with the hood drawn over her head. Under the hood, a wide sash was wrapped around her hair. Under the coat were her thickest trousers and shirt, covered by a long, quilted tunic. She had made no effort to keep her face clean. She was as unattractive as it was possible to appear, under the circumstances.

Cappy told his story. Just as Stavia had changed her appearance for her own benefit, so had he changed the history of the brothers' expedition for their benefit. There was nothing in it of their desires for a woman, nothing in it of their original intention of keeping the woman hidden. Now it was all about duty to the family. They had gone out looking for sheep. They had happened upon the woman. Then it had seemed a good idea to get the woman for the family, to learn the secrets the woman had. There was a problem they hadn't counted on. The woman had a man with her, and he claimed to be her husband. He claimed the woman was carrying his child. He had cut out a magic thing the woman had in her.

Elder Resolution Brome held out his hand and Capable put the tiny implant in it.

“What is this?” Resolution demanded of Chernon.

“He doesn't know,” said Stavia before Chernon could speak. “It isn't even magic.” This was a calculated risk.
She expected to be hit, and was, but it was a not ungentle cuff from Doots.

Chernon had been ready to speak, but now he subsided angrily. She had already cast doubt on what he intended to say.

“What is it, then?” Resolution demanded of her.

“It's a kind of medicine to keep me from dropping babies before their time,” she said. “Now he's cut it out, I'll probably lose this one.” She patted her stomach. It suited her to pretend pregnancy. She dropped her eyes, pretending modesty as well.

“How come he didn't know?” Retribution demanded. When Rel had arrived with the story, Retribution had been filled with a sudden and irrational hope. Maybe the foreign woman could be his! That hope now died squirming. “How come?”

“It's a woman's thing,” she said, eyes down. “We don't bother the men with women's things.”

“He says you've got secrets!”

“Just women's things,” she said again. “About healing and childbirth. Things like that. Nothing men want to know about.” She risked an upward glance, intercepting a hot and angry look shared by most of the older males in this family. The father, his older sons. There seemed to be eight of them, counting the three who had captured them. And only one adolescent girl! She read it all in that, inferred it all. They had learned about it in history class. Female infanticide or female sacrifice, one or both. But not polyandry, which could have solved the situation. She risked another glance, meeting the eyes of the worn, middle-aged woman who stood beside the girl. The girl's mother. Holding a baby. Perhaps not middle aged then. Perhaps younger.

“What've you got on that donkey?” Again this was addressed to Chernon, but Stavia answered for him.

“Herbs for healing,” she told him. “That's what I was doing. Collecting herbs for healing.”

“I'll think on this,” declaimed Resolution. “I'll think and I'll pray. Meantime, take the woman into your house, Susannah.”

“Papa,” cried Doots. “She'll run off.”

“Not with you watchin' the house,” the old man said. “You or some of the others. And you take this man down
to the bachelor house and keep him there. I'll want some time to think this out.” He looked at the implant lying in the palm of his horny hand, eyebrows drawn together to make a deep, vertical furrow. “Think it out.”

Stavia turned and went up the two splintery steps to where the woman and girl were standing. Another girl, younger, was hiding behind the open door. “Susannah,” Stavia said quietly. “My name
is
Stavia.”

“This here's Chastity,” Susannah murmured. “Inside's Faith. She's eight.”

“What's the baby's name?”

“Babies don't have names,” whispered Chastity. “That'd be right wasteful.”

O
UTSIDE THE WIFE-HOUSE
, Doots and Retribution watched until midnight, at which point Vengeance and Diligence took over. Stavia made one trip to the privy under their voracious gaze. She decided to use something for a chamber pot if she had to go again, rather than submit to these stares.

The supplies from the donkey were stacked on Susannah's porch, including the emergency medical kit that Stavia always carried. She laid out its contents for Susannah's scrutiny. “You're the healer, here?” she asked, already sure of the answer from things the boys had said.

“I'm what they've got,” the woman agreed. “All I know's what my mama taught me, and all she knew was what her mama told her.”

“I'll leave this kit with you when I go,” said Stavia.

“You're not goin' nowhere,” Susannah said. “It'll take that old man some time to figure out, but he'll figure a way. Either he'll get you hisself or he'll give you to one of the boys. Retribution, most likely.”