Responsibility Ch. 04

Careful with the thorns, Rahela personally cut a few apples away. They were vary tiny and likely bitter. Yana asked about how they could possibly be apples. Rahela explained it this way, "The produce we grow isn't natural. We humans bred wild plants to suit our needs and continue to do so. Produce is similar to ..."

Barking!

They turned around to see an old war dog chasing a wild bird in the meadow.

Rahela was fairly certain that one was the Emperor's favorite old boy.

"Dogs," Rahela said after a moment.

They left some wild apples behind and walked on. When they found some dandelions they crouched down to pick some leaves. The cook would certainly be creative enough to figure out how to use these wild ingredients.

The bird from before flew past them. The dog followed. He was so close that he almost knocked Oksana over. Oksana reacted by stomping a foot and angrily shouting at the dog, "Damned beast!! Weren't you trained to have manners?!"

"Even the mightiest warrior must have time for play," Rahela said as she put some leaves in Oksana's basket. "Come. There could be herbs."

And just then, that old dog ran right back to them, and hhe just happened to knock himself into Rahela.

Thankfully, there wasn't anything dangerous near them. Rahela only fell on grass and soil. Her breath had been taken for a moment, but once she was on her knees she had it back. She was more concerned about the maids-in-waiting's voices. They sounded like there was a reason to panic. They both put their baskets down to help her up.

"Hrist!! Here!!"

Rahela's belly twisted and her lightly scuffed palms blushed even more. She couldn't have been blamed for the quiet little reaction. The Emperor's voice was naturally proud and daunting. He'd let out a command that was similar to a high ranking military man's. Of course it would make her feel weak and strange.

The maidens all turned to watch the now quiet Hrist. His tail was between his legs and he rather sadly went to lay down near the Emperor's feet. The Emperor crouched down to pick something out of the dog's fur, likely an insect. Then he pointed somewhere and told the dog to go, and that dog did go, off to a place where he wasn't bothering anyone. His tail even perked back up.

When the Emperor walked through the grass towards the maidens, they all bowed to him.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Rahela said. "The weather is bright yet soothing. Knowing you're letting the healthy air soak into your face is encouraging."

He might not have believed her. Rahela knew that well.

That fact left aside, the Emperor nodded down towards her, his eyes were steely. "Have you no experience with dogs?" That crooked nose wrinkled and wiggled. "Use your voice if that one misbehaves again. He'll listen to his name."

Rahela reached for one of her maids' baskets and took it with rather serene fingers. Then she said, "We've found some edible items. I can properly say there's nothing deadly here."

Palm forward, waving his hand a bit from side to side, the Emperor said, "Have one of your maids carry the baskets off to the cook. Quit your search. Follow me to my tent instead."

Immediately, Rahela sent Oksana off with the baskets. Then, with Yana just behind her, Rahela followed the Emperor. The maidens listened to the Emperor talk about some old battle he'd overseen years ago, when he was still a prince. Nobody could say that man didn't have a high opinion of himself.

When the story was finished, they were at the Emperor's massive tent, where he said breakfast would be served soon. Just as some men were arranging the dining area inside, Oksana returned to them.

Breakfast was cold or lukewarm leftovers. Nothing of importance, but certainly nothing disgusting. When that was done, they opened the entrance flap to watch the two squires practice their swordsmanship skills with dull swords. The page stayed at the Emperor's side, mostly filing his nails for him or working with his wax tablet again.

Rahela was volunteered to do some sewing for the Emperor. Did he have any new holes in his tunics? She could fix that problem, and it would give the page more time for his other duties. Focused on the squires, not moving his head at all, the Emperor said, "Boy, find the clothes and sewing kit, and hand them to the Princess."

It was done very quickly. When the page had a short stack of neatly folded clothes and a small box of sewing supplies in Rahela's lap, she happened to ask him, "What's your name, Page?"

Blushing, his smile honest, the boy said, "My name is Borys Chaika."

Borys Chaika.

Borys the page, hopefully a squire one day.

Rahela let part of a smile show for only half a second, then she turned her head away and said, "You've lent me your sewing kit. I'll hold my prudence well. Thank you."

She heard him make an excited little noise in his throat, then he said, "Yes, Your Highness!" His grassy footsteps went on back to his place near the Emperor, where he continued with his studies.

Rahela held a gray tunic close to her face for a moment. There was a significant tear along a seam. The fabric smelled like with herbs and grass. It seemed that the clothing might not have been the source of the mysterious sweet smell the Emperor often had.

She laid the tunic back over her lap and opened the kit. She picked out a needle and looked for a spool of appropriate thread.

The maids quietly discussed the squires with each other. Which one seemed the strongest, or the cleverest, or whatever adjective they came up with at the moment. They were of similar age to the boys. It was normal that they'd be happy to watch them practice fighting. Their futures were still uncertain. They still had room for young hope.

The squires finished their sparring and had to put their swords away. They were then told to go with the General for a break, complete with bread and cheese for snacks, and then to have some time working with horses.

Borys the page then spent time with the Emperor, playing a board game, while the maids-in-waiting watched. Rahela was darning one of the Emperor's chemises by then. It was a shorter version, sometimes called an undershirt. It was equally as intimate as the chemise she wore under her traveling gown. An abashed heat sprouted in her cheeks and nose, but nothing else in her face was exposed.

There certainly was no shame in repairing a man's clothing, no matter one's class. Sewing in general was a common yet highly valuable skill. If her mother was still alive she'd commend Rahela actions.

However, Rahela was still quietly affected by the most obvious, most hateful reminder of what her future was, or what her future was meant to be.

More time passed. Rahela walked with the maids around the campsite. The Emperor himself was giving Borys wrestling tips when they left. After a time, one of the squires found them. He had Hrist the dog on a harness with a leash.

"Did you enjoy your time with the horses?" Oksana asked.

Using a handkerchief to wipe sweat away from his brow, the squire said that he had a fine time. Then, reaching down to pet Hrist, he said, "Lunch is early. The Emperor has said that you may eat in your own tent if you wish."

So, the maidens went to their tent to eat. Each one had two pies and one serving of pottage. One pie had meat and herbs. The other had some of those wild apples with honey and butter. The pottage had the dandelion leaves shredded and mixed in with beans.

When all that was done, the maids-in-waiting spent time reading some light-hearted scrolls they had kept in their own luggage. Poetry and comedy, worthy diversions.

Rahela spent a few minutes combing her hair out and lazily playing with the locks. Then she carefully made two braids, with a single, thin green ribbon in each plait. Each ribbon was kept on the same path as a single, interlaced strand. She covered the plaits' ends with small cases of leather covered with layers of matching green ribbons.

Eventually, the maids took some of Rahela's clothing to repair with their own sewing kits.

Rahela held one of her clasps in her fingers, making her braid curl in the air.

She couldn't remember the last time she was legitimately bored.

And here she was.

Bored.

She had all kinds of things available to entertain her, but the problem was she didn't need to do anything.

There were no urgent matters to deal with, no aristocratic families to manipulate, no war strategy to review, not even a commoner showing his face to a royal court to express a grievance.

Still holding her ribbon case, putting fingers over her lips, almost looping her braid, Rahela savored the feeling.

The blessed feeling of boredom.

A delightful luxury.

***

When dinner was ready, the maidens were told to go to the Emperor's tent. Hrist the dog was sloppily eating his food outside the tent while a soldier stayed near him. He seemed to be looking after him for the moment.

The meal was very acceptable. Someone, possibly General Anisim, had gone hunting, because there was a stew of hare meat and beans. There was also cheese melted between thing layers of dough, dusted with herbs. Rahela had to use both her spoon and knife to eat that. There were some traveling biscuits, but they were served with broth to soften them.

The sky darkened as the food was eagerly consumed. At the end of the meal, the squires started something of an informal debate on horse breeds. Red-headed Borys tried to give opinion, but he was quickly told to hush by one of the older boys.

The Emperor stood up, but Rahela wasn't looking at him. She was almost listless. She held her belly as if she was already with child as she said to her maids-in-waiting that they should leave if the Emperor would allow it. Getting up was difficult, but she managed.

The Emperor's voice ground out, not exactly an alarming tone but firm enough. "I need to have a conversation with the Princess."

Rahela stepped around to gaze up at the Emperor's jaw and lips. He seemed fairly unruffled. Even his scars seemed nearly polished, thinner and smoother. Rahela knew it was some kind of mental trick caused by his relaxed bearing and minimal threat to her. He was scary but he wasn't about to kill her.

Therefore, Rahela was serene enough when she said, "Your Majesty, I'm here. Please gift me with your words."

Soldiers were already putting the dining chairs and tables away, but the Emperor interrupted the squires' debate to tell them to set up some wooden dividers.

Wondering if there was some Yahsin tradition here that she didn't understand, Rahela looked to her maids-in-waiting. Both girls shrugged, looking rather mystified.

Still standing, not moving one way or another, Rahela again looked at the Emperor's mouth. Some of his lower lip was being sucked back behind his teeth.

...

Why?

Rahela blinked a few times.

Did he have an amusing little story to tell? One about a time when someone had managed to beat him in a wrestling contest? What was it?

"Your Imperial Majesty," Rahela said with a gentle bow, "I'm grateful to be here to listen to your words." That was a mannerly way of saying, "Talk to me." She was there, some feet away from him. Why wasn't he starting the conversation he wanted?

The squires had now put four different wooden dividers in place. It was as if they wanted to make a room within the tent. Some candles and lamps had been lit. It put orange and yellow spots in the dim space. Again, Rahela said, only with a shaving's worth of more emphasis, "I'm grateful to be here to listen to your words."

The Emperor gripped the edge of one of the dividers, and he adjusted the thing's angle on the floor. "Boys, take the Princess' maids-in-waiting out for a walk."

Both hands rising to her lips, Rahela looked to the trio of boys. The squires asked the maids-in-waiting to go with them while Borys the page grinned and tagged along. The maids both frowned. Oksana said aloud, "We must stay with Her Highness."

The boys didn't need to give an excuse because the Emperor supplied it. "We'll have a secret discussion. Rebellions and the rest. We can't have such dangerous words easily shared."

Nothing could be done, not without risking the worst problems. The Emperor had absolute power here.

Her fingers and toes contracted.

Yana, the tall girl, she tried to give a light protest. Unfortunately it was a stumbling, slow arrangement of words, as her comments often were. The boys didn't give her enough time to finish what she was trying to say, and they urged the girls out of the tent.

Rahela hadn't moved from her spot. She didn't want to. One foot moved, though. Subtly, tensing and jerking, as if eager to lead the body on a sprint. Her shoe's flexible sole warped with the movements. Her eyes focused on a random chest in a far off spot, partially hidden in creeping shadows. She didn't know what was inside. Scrolls, weapons, clothing, who knows?

"Little Princess?"

Her eyes shut. Her chest ached from her now alarmed heart's pounding. Her fingers stretched out and pressed together, hiding her nose along with her mouth. Her breath's heat cuddled with the heat in her palms. It was almost suffocating.

She felt the large man's footsteps. It was a force more powerful than the sounds. She almost thought the feet were matching her heart's rhythm.

"Have you lost your hearing?"

She could hear the chortle before it was let out. It'd began in his chest, then to his throat, and Rahela could hear it. She wondered if she even felt it somewhere in her own body, perhaps her belly, calves, or even her toenails.

"Come."

Rahela's teeth seemed to want to crush each other.

She felt his fingernails through her gown and chemise. Right on her arm.

Goosepimples.

He took some of her sleeve in his grasp.

Once more. "Come."

Pull.

She was pulled by her sleeve.

She opened her eyes and followed, but she didn't look at him. She looked down at her quick feet. She soon felt her free arm graze one of the wooden dividers.

A chair was in the nearly enclosed space. It was darkest there. Wordlessly, the Emperor sat down; the chair creaked.

But where was Rahela meant to go?

Both of his hands, so huge and warm, went to her waist, right above her girdle.

She gasped and tried to pry herself free. There wasn't enough time for her to find success, mostly because the hands moved on their own to do something possibly worse. He hooked some of his arm under her legs and positioned her so that she was sitting in his lap sideways.

His lap!

His warm, terribly forbidden lap!

Rahela didn't say no, but she certainly thought of the word. She also thought of the words barbaric and unjust. She tried to turn her body to get a secure footing on the floor, but he didn't allow that. He didn't bother with a scolding, however. He only put arm around around her waist, putting her torso right on his.

That was when he spoke to her.

"You'll leave this tent a virgin, Little Princess. Hold no doubts."

That didn't make her feel any less horrified.

This was definitely not meant to be a serious discussion about important matters.

Her hands rushed to her face, overlapping over her mouth. Her breath felt like hiccups.

"There's no need to be afraid."

His voice was low. She felt his breath in her hair. It made her shiver.

"I want to know what to expect once we're finally wed."

For once, Rahela couldn't think of anything to say. She'd never been in this kind of situation before. Men had mostly treated her like a precious darling, not necessarily overly coddled, but instead someone one should never casually touch.

Rough skin.

He was touching her jaw, as careful as one holding a glass bowl.

She didn't want to tilt her head back as if she wanted to see the tent's frame, not that she could see much of it anyway.

It wasn't her doing. The Emperor moved her head.

Hot breath. Smelled like cheese and broth.

He was on her mouth, humming something against her lips.

That was her limit. Rahela couldn't withstand such treatment. She cried out and flung about, and she fell out of the man's grasp, right to the floor. There wasn't much pain.

"Oh? Are you going to run away?" He started laughing.

Rahela cringed so hard that her fingers and toes curled. Then she scrambled to her feet, picked up some of her skirt, and ran to the exit. His laughter was still caroming in her head when she was outside, where it was young night with lit torches. One of the nearby guarding soldiers asked her if she was well.

Rahela straightened and opened her mouth, ready to say she was fine.

Sudden force!

Of course she screamed.

Something was so potent that it made her go down. It was felt in the space between her neck and shoulder. It hurt. It was possibly the worst pain she'd felt up to that point in her life.

She felt her blood leaving her. There must've been a wound.

Yelling.

***