Attack of the Amazons (11 page)

Rolf's mind probably had already gone over this territory many times. “I know you're right,” he said, “but are there men who could do what the women have been doing?”

“You know your family,” Josh said. “We all know
your father is a very wise man. He's not a warrior—but no one expects the king to go out and fight. He has a war chief to do that. I think you could find a war chief right here in Gaelan—or you yourself could be a warrior.” He looked about at the men and said, “You haven't had training, but most of you could learn. Are you willing?”

A hum of talk went around. One of the smaller men said, “I'm not as big as the warrior maids. I have not had the training they have, and there's not time to learn…”

“That's where Goél comes in,” Josh said. “Let me tell you about him—how he can give power to them who have no power.”

Eagerly the men crowded forward. For a long time that night, Josh spoke of Goél. He spoke also of the power of love. He explained how things in the village would have to change.

“It's not might that makes right,” he said. “There's a need for gentleness and consideration of other people in this world. In our situation, you men have those qualities more than the women, but they can learn.”

“Yes,” Rolf said at once, and a sad smile came to his lips. “It will be hard for them, but they can learn.”

F
or several days little was heard in the village but talk of the death of the tigers.

The status of Mita, the medicine woman, had plunged. She had prophesied that the tigers would kill any of the Sleepers who came against them; now that her prophecy had failed, she had become almost a comic figure. The villagers had long been frightened of her. But now they felt that whatever powers she had had died with the tigers, and they merely laughed at her.

The Sleepers themselves found that the deed had done much to raise their status. Even Ettore kept her hands and her cane off Josh, for which he was grateful.

Sarah had whispered, “I think she's actually afraid of us now. Anybody that could kill a tiger could certainly kill a woman like her—although we wouldn't, of course.”

Rolf had changed so greatly that his parents grew worried about him.

“What's troubling you, son?” Chava asked.

The young man was sitting underneath a shade tree, simply staring into space. He had been shelling beans. Now suddenly he looked down with distaste at the unshelled beans and then up at his father. “I'm not happy, Father,” he said.

“That's obvious.” Chava sat down, and they talked.

Chava was wise. He knew better than to ask directly if Rolf was caught up in the movement of the
men. He himself had seen the tide flowing in that direction, and he feared there would be bloodshed before it was over. He had a daughter who would fight to the death because of her pride; and now this son of his, who had never lifted his hand against anyone, seemed to be on a head-on-collision course with her and the warrior maids.

“I don't know what to do,” Rolf said finally. “Tell me what to do, Father.”

“You're a man, my son. I have not been, perhaps, a good adviser for you. I've been content to take my place and to help your mother.”

Rolf looked up and smiled. “You've always loved my mother. I've always known that.”

“Yes, I have. Many times I have wished she were not queen. It's been unhappy and hard for her, and I've done what I could to ease her pain. But things can't stay as they are for long. The men have had a taste of what achievement is like, and they are not going to forget it.”

Rolf stared at him. He probably had suspected that his father would not tell him directly what to do. “I wish I were as wise as you,” he said.

“Wisdom comes with seeking it—and with age. You already have more wisdom than you think. You also have a gentleness in you that would be good for any woman to know, and you will someday find one to lavish your heart on. But first, perhaps, there will come a harder time.”

He said no more, but he thought they understood each other thoroughly.

Gaelan had a conversation that same day with Abbey. He rather admired the young woman and found her easy to talk to.

Abbey said, before they had spoken long, “Josh told me you offered to go fight the tiger to save my life. I've never thanked you for that.”

“No need thanking me. I didn't go. They wouldn't let me.”

“But you offered. That's what's important. It was good of you, Gaelan, and I thank you for it.”

“I like to think you would have done the same for me, Abbey.”

“I don't know—I'm really a coward at heart.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I'm not like the others.”

“You're certainly not like Princess Merle. She's got a tiger's heart.”

Abbey glanced at him quickly. “No,” she said slowly, “I don't think that's right. She's not as tough and hard as she wants everybody to think.”

“Well, she puts on a good act then! I can still feel where she beat me with that cane of hers.”

“You've been beaten before, but her latest beating hurt worse than the rest, and I know why.”

“What do you mean?”

“It hurt you because you like her more than you want to admit.”

“Like her? She's made my life a misery! Of course, she is pretty enough, but—”

“Pretty? Why, she's one of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen, and you know it.”

Gaelan's face turned red. “All right, so she's pretty. So what? She can be mean as a snake when she wants to.”

Abbey shook her head. “I know, but underneath she's got a sweetness in her. It's just buried under all that stuff about fighting and killing and what she's been brought up to be. If you took a puppy and brought him
up to be mean, you couldn't wholly blame the dog, could you? It was his upbringing.”

“Well, you can't do anything about a bad dog.”

“But you
can
about a young woman. She just needs someone to tell her some things.”

“What do you want me to do—quote poetry to her? That's what her father does to her mother, I've heard.”

“It wouldn't hurt you.”

“Oh, I can't write a poem.”

“You don't have to write a poem. Girls don't expect that unless their boyfriends are poets, but they do like to be told sweet things. Why don't you try it?”

“She'd shoot me with an arrow right in the head!”

Abbey smiled. “I don't think so. I think she's just waiting to be told that she's pretty and sweet and that she's appreciated. Try it. See what happens.”

“Not me,” Gaelan said firmly, pulling his lips into a straight line. “I'm not going to make a fool of myself!”

And he didn't, at least not that day. The next day, however, he was standing outside the house watching some birds circle overhead when he turned quickly at a sound and saw that Princess Merle had come outside. She would have gone by him, but he stopped her, saying, “Look up there. Wouldn't it be nice to fly like those fellows?”

Merle had not spoken to Gaelan except of necessity. She stopped and looked up. “Why, I suppose so.”

“I'll bet your father could write a poem about those birds and the way they move. See how smooth they are? They don't waste their strength beating the air. Look at them glide! Wouldn't that be nice to just soar around like that?”

“I think it would, but of course we could never do that.”

“The Sleepers did.”

Now he had her attention. “What do you mean, the Sleepers did?” she demanded.

“They were in a country where men flew like birds. Didn't they tell you about that?”

“No, tell me.”

“Well, you'll have to get Sarah or Abbey, or maybe Dave, to tell you. They were all there.” He related as best he could the story of the birdmen of the desert and how the Sleepers themselves had been fitted with wings and learned to soar on the updrafts.

“Must be great,” he said. “I'd like to go to that place sometime.”

“It's very far away, isn't it?”

“I guess so, but I'm young. I intend to see some of the world while I've got a chance.”

A peace had come over the village, a quiet, and Princess Merle stood for some time listening as Gaelan told her about some of the places he had heard about.

Suddenly he said, “You know, Princess, I've gotten angry enough at you a few times that I wanted to strangle you.”

She looked startled.

Gaelan fixed his eyes on her. He seemed to have trouble speaking but finally said, “But I know that you're not as hard as you pretend to be.”

“What makes you think I'm not?” she snapped.

“I just know it,” he said simply. “For one thing, you were frightened when the Sleepers went out to fight the tiger. That's when I saw you had…well…gentleness in you, and I liked it. It's something I like to see in a woman. Sarah has a lot of that, and Abbey too.”

“Gentleness is a weakness.”

“No, it isn't. Your father is gentle, and he's not weak. I think even your mother has a gentleness. She
doesn't show it much, but I bet she shows it to you.”

Reluctantly, Merle said, “Yes, she does, and Father certainly does.”

“I think I admire them more than any older people I ever saw. You're lucky to have them for parents. And that brother of yours. Why, he's got all kinds of good qualities. He's got gentleness in him too, but he's strong.”

“Rolf? I suppose so.”

“I know I'm just a servant, but I'm going to tell you something.” He set his feet as if he were expecting a blow and put his hands behind him, grasping them firmly.

Puzzled, she turned fully to face him. “What is it?” she asked.

“You're the prettiest girl I ever saw,” he said, “and I think under all that warrior stuff you've probably got a kind streak in you.” When he had said this, Gaelan waited and was astonished to see the face of the princess of the Fedorians turn pale. He said quickly, “I—I didn't mean to insult you.” She still did not speak, so he shrugged and said, “Well, it's the truth. You
are
pretty.” He turned and walked off.

If Gaelan had struck her in the face, Princess Merle could not have been more shocked. Yet she realized she was not angry. Instead she felt warmth and pleasure spread through her. She reached up and touched her face and found it glowing. No one had ever told her she was pretty—and certainly not that she was kind. Slowly she walked back into the house and found her mother.

“What is it, Merle? You look pale. Don't you feel well?”

“Gaelan told me I was pretty, and—he said I was kind on the inside.”

A gleam of humor came to the queen's eyes. “He's got good eyes. You've kept that kind streak covered up pretty well, blustering around—as I taught you to do, of course—and anybody could have told you you were pretty. You can see yourself in the mirror, can't you?”

“I know, but it was different when he said it. Mother, I feel so funny lately. What's wrong with me?”

The queen reached out and pulled her daughter forward. She held her to her breast tightly and said, “You're becoming a woman, Merle. Sometimes that's a little painful, but when a young man like that tells you you're pretty and kind, it makes you feel…different.”

“I don't know
what
to feel like. I'm all confused.”

“I felt the same way when I was your age, but I'm glad to see it happen. I want my girl to be a woman, not just a warrior maid. I wish,” she said slowly, “I'd had the chance to be that. It would have meant a great deal to your father.”

Later, Merle hunted up Sarah. She had recovered, at least outwardly, from the shock of Gaelan's compliment. For a long time she talked with Sarah about unimportant things. At last she cleared her throat and said as innocently as she could, “Sarah, how old are you?”

“I'm sixteen.”

“Then—did Josh or any boy ever tell you you were pretty?”

“Josh has—and one or two others.” Sarah smiled suddenly. “I liked it too, even though I didn't always believe it. As long as
they
did, that was all I needed.”

“Why did it make you feel so good to be told that?”

“I think most of us feel a little insecure. Even the prettiest girls feel that. We had a thing called beauty contests back in my world—”

“What was that?”

“Oh, the girls all paraded around, and judges decided which one was the prettiest.”

“Did you ever win?”

“Oh, no!” Sarah laughed. “I never even entered a beauty contest. I would not have won.”

“I bet you would have. Tell me about it.”

“Well, the strange thing is that the girls who won the beauty contests—I knew several of them—they never were satisfied.
They
didn't feel they were pretty, even though the judges had said so. They always went around trying to buy prettier clothes and trying to fix their hair different, and they never felt that a boy liked them just for themselves.”

She went on talking for some time about her limited experience with beauty contestants, and then she asked directly, “Has some young man been telling you you're pretty?”

Merle considered denying it, but then she whispered, “Why, yes, one did.”

“I admire his judgment. You are a very pretty girl. You're pretty spoiled, though.”

Merle's eyes flashed for a moment, then she laughed shortly. “I know. I've always had everything I've wanted, and now—”

When the girl broke off, Sarah said, “Now you're not sure you want those things anymore.”

“Yes. Why is that?”

“I think it's because there's an emptiness in all the women of your tribe. They've given up everything to be fighters, and they've put aside softness and gentleness, and that's what a woman is, really. We're different from men. Of course, we're different physically, but we're different inside too.”

“How are we different inside?” Merle was fascinated
by all this. She had never heard anything like it.

“Well, boys are sort of matter-of-fact. For instance, if I asked Josh what he did, he just gives me the big picture, and I'll say, ‘I want to hear the little things, the fine print—tell me every detail.' But he doesn't like to do that. Women like things like that, and they like to be told nice, sweet little things. Josh is learning, and I'm teaching him how to talk like that.”

“How can you teach him?”

“Oh, there are ways.” Sarah smiled enigmatically. “I'll tell you some of them.”

Sarah talked and Merle listened, and soon the two girls were giggling together.

Sarah thought,
It's almost like a slumber party at home. This girl is a princess, and she's been a warrior and probably killed people in battle, but she doesn't know as much as a ninth grader back in Oldworld. And really she's sweet underneath all that warrior stuff.

When Merle left, Sarah put her arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. “I'll keep your secret.”

“What secret?”

“The secret about who told you you were pretty.”