Tara

The campfire cast an eerie, flickering light on the surrounding woods. Normally the forest would have been dark and silent at this late hour, but now it rang with the sounds of mens' voices and bawdy laughter.

A young woman sat apart from the general revelry, busily mending a chain mail shirt. She wasn't bound like the terrified prisoners who sat to her right, but she wasn't joining in the celebrations, either; she looked, in fact, utterly bored with the whole affair. After a few more twists, she slipped her tool into a pocket in her jerkin and held up the chain shirt for inspection. She seemed satisfied. With a nod, she put the mail on and buckled her belt over it.

"Not joining in the fun, Tara?" A hulking man with an unkempt beard grinned in her direction. "You should, y'know. A little ale would do you good."

"No, Kernos," she said diffidently, rising to her feet. "Not tonight. I've finished what I told you I'd do. Now I'm leaving."

"Much obliged, I'm sure." He gave her a nod. "We couldn't have done it without you." She gave him a sidelong look, but said nothing. "I already had the boys get together everything you asked for in payment. You've got five hundred gold, your choice of weapons or armor, and a horse and cart to carry it with. You want to take your choices now?"

Tara laid her hand on the hilt of the sword that was sheathed at her hip. She glanced thoughtfully at the heap of valuables the mercenaries had taken in their raid. Her gaze moved to the huddled knot of prisoners. "Actually," she said slowly, "I think I've changed my mind. I've already got my sword, and good enough armor to suit me. I want one of the slaves."

The muscular warrior raised a brow. "Oh?" He looked curiously at the captives, and then back at her. "Are you sure? A slave wouldn't be worth as much."

"Not in money, maybe. But I could use someone to set up my camp and cook for me every now and then," Tara said coolly, flicking a stray strand of red hair out of her eyes. "It's a little tiresome doing all that after a hard day's ride, sometimes."

Kernos shrugged. "All right. Help yourself, then. You can take your pick." He swept his arm at the group of prisoners. "Take whichever one you want, Tara. You earned it."

"Yes. I did." The woman moved to stand a few feet from the captives and folded her arms across her breast, running a practiced eye over the selection.I want one young and strong enough to withstand hard travel, but not so strong that I'll have any trouble staying in control,she mused, mentally discarding the males and the older females. Tara also passed over a couple of the plainer girls – she had her pride, after all, and she wanted only the best. Finally, she spotted the one she wanted. A timid-looking, black-haired girl was huddled in between the trunks of two large trees. She was a pretty little thing, not much over five feet, and had large, frightened green eyes. Tara thought she looked about eighteen years old.

With three long strides, Tara crossed the distance between them. The prisoner uttered a whimpering cry as the taller woman caught her by the arm and wrenched her to her feet. "I'll take you," Tara said coldly. "Let's go." The girl stumbled alongside her to the cart that held Tara's money and supplies. She glanced at them, ensuring that everything was there, and then dealt the slave a light shove. "Get in." The prisoner nearly tumbled into the cart in her haste to obey. With her hands tied behind her back, the girl couldn't break her fall. Tara shot out a hand and narrowly saved her from cracking her skull against the wooden side of the cart. She let go again with a snort of impatience. "Sit down. Back against the wood."

Really, Tara didn't think that this fearful creature would pose any threat to her, but she hadn't survived this long by being complacent. She took a coil of rope and bound her prisoner's legs. Then, pushing the wide-eyed girl firmly back against the slotted wooden wall of the cart, she tied her securely to it. Only when she was fully satisfied that the slave couldn't move did she toss the rest of the cord back into the cart. With this little chore finished, Tara moved around to inspect the horse they had given her.

The city they'd razed had been well-known for its horses. They weren't the powerful warhorses that Tara preferred, though; these were smaller and more compact, made for pulling carts and plows. She ran her hands over the russet flanks of the beast, checked its legs and teeth, and peered at the bottom of each hoof.It will do,she decided at last. With one final glance at the reveling mercenaries, Tara swung into the saddle and dug her heels into the horse's flanks. It started forward, pulling the cart behind it.

It was nearly an hour's travel before the drunken singing and shouting finally faded into the distance. Tara grimaced. She didn't like to travel by night, but she'd had no desire to stay in the camp. She had no need for such companionship. Normally she preferred to work alone, but she wasn't above making such temporary alliances if the pay was to her liking. She glanced back at the cart with a faint smirk. This last job had paid her gold enough to keep her well-fed for quite some time. She was pretty well satisfied with it. If her new slave girl should prove herself useful, as well, Tara would even consider it a rousing success.

They had been traveling for close to three hours when they came upon a clearing in the woods. Tara reined in the horse and glanced up at the sky. It was probably close to midnight; it would be wise to make her camp now. She swung out of the saddle and led the horse off the road. With deft fingers, Tara undid the harness and tethered the horse to a nearby tree. She hummed under her breath as she began to rub the beast down.

It didn't take too much time after that to lay out her bedroll and light a supper fire. Then she went back to the cart and, fetching the two heavy sacks of coin, put them under the head of her sleeping mat. Her stomach rumbled then. Tara rose to her feet and went back to get her prisoner.

The girl trembled in silence as Tara released her from the side of the cart. The warrior paused in the act of untying the knots that held her legs. "What's your name?" she asked sharply.

Wide green eyes flicked briefly up to meet hers. "Epona," came the barely-audible whisper.

Tara's hand shot out to catch the girl by the throat. The captive choked pitifully. "When you address me,slave," she said icily, "you will address me asma'am. You will show me respect. Do I make myself clear?" The black-haired girl nodded tearfully. "Good. Then let's have that again, shall we?" Tara released her. "What's your name?"

"Ep...Epona, ma'am." The girl flinched as Tara moved again, but the warrior merely stooped down to untie the ropes around her legs. Tara slung the bag containing her food rations over her shoulder with one arm, and drew her slave down from the cart with the other. As an afterthought, she also grabbed a skin of wine. Epona made no move to resist as she was led to the campsite.

When they reached the fire, Tara let her go and stood facing her, folding her arms over her chest. "Can you cook?" she demanded. The prisoner nodded fearfully. "Good. You can make yourself useful, then." With a few quick movements, she released the cords that held the girl's wrists behind her back. "Get some life back into your hands, and then you can fix my supper. Make it quick, and don't try anything stupid. I'm faster than you are, and one hell of a lot stronger. Don't make me prove it." Tara tossed the food satchel to the ground at the girl's feet. Then, coolly, she sat down cross-legged on her bedroll. The ropes that had bound the prisoner went into a neat pile beside her. With her dark eyes fixed on the slave girl, Tara uncorked her wineskin.

Epona's small hands trembled as they sorted through the items in the satchel, selected a few, and set to work. She seemed to be making some kind of a quick gruel. Tara nodded her approval and took a mouthful of wine. It was tart and pungent, but certainly wasn't the best quality. The warrior grimaced as she swallowed.Oh, well. Can't win them all.She made a mental note to buy some decent sherry the next time her travels took her through a village, and took another gulp. Her attention strayed back to Epona.

Tara had given the girl a cursory inspection back at the camp, but she hadn't really taken the time to study her. Now she did, taking periodic sips of wine. Epona was slight, with a slim neck and long, slender fingers. Tara looked more closely at her hands. They were very white, like the rest of her; the skin looked smooth and soft. The only visible calluses were on the tips of her fingers and the pad of her thumb. Tara frowned – she'd seen marks like this before.She plays the harp. This is no peasant girl.Her dark eyes moved back up to her slave's face. Epona's cheekbones were high and well-formed, and her nose was long and straight. Tara couldn't restrain a smirk.Well, well. Seems like I took the best pick of the litter, all right. But I wonder why some high-status girl would know how to cook?The warrior took another long pull at the wineskin. Then she set it down and leaned back against a tree trunk. "So tell me, Epona. What was your father's name?"

The timid green eyes looked at her for a moment. "My father?" Epona quickly returned her attention to the steaming pot on the fire. Tara saw her chin lift slightly. "My father was Lord Timon Tabor, the chieftain of Minos, the second son of Lord Titus Tabor. –Ma'am." The words had been spoken with both sorrow and pride.

"I thought as much." Tara took another thoughtful sip of sour wine. She was well aware that some lord or other had been killed in the raid, as well as a couple of his sons. "You look like a noble. So where do you fall in the birth order, hm? My guess would be pretty low."

"I'm the youngest of his seventeen children," Epona confirmed quietly. "I'm the youngest daughter of his third wife, ma'am."

"Ah. That explains your knowing how to cook. It's not likely you'd be married off to someone rich enough to keep a chef, right? They'd all want your older sisters." Tara smirked as the girl gave a silent nod. "And now, here you are, kneeling in the dirt to cook a pot of porridge for some freelance mercenary. Life's a bitch." She laughed a bit and took another mouthful of wine. "You play the harp?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have some manner of education? Reading, writing, that sort of thing?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona stirred the pot, which by this time was beginning to give off a delicious smell.

"Well, isn't that something." Tara chuckled. She was greatly amused by this development. She'd had slaves twice before, both of whom had been freed by her after a year or so of service, but neither of them had been bluebloods.This might be more interesting than I thought.The warrior went back to her silent scrutiny of the young woman.

After another ten or fifteen minutes, Epona moved the steaming pot off the fire and spooned some of its contents into a bowl. Tara watched idly as the girl turned toward her. To her mild surprise, Epona didn't rise to her feet. Instead, cupping the bowl carefully, the girl approached her on her hands and knees. When she reached a spot about two feet away, Epona stopped and laid the bowl down within Tara's reach.

The warrior raised a brow. "What was that about?"

"I'm your slave, am I not?" Epona asked quietly. "A slave's head should never be above her master's, ma'am. Not if she's properly trained. None of my father's slaves would have dared."

"Huh." Come to think of it, Tara had heard that before, but she'd never seen it in practice. She smirked a bit and eyed the food. "Well, if you know all that, then you'll also know why I'm not touching this porridge until you've tasted it, first." Epona's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't comment. Without a word, she took the bowl in her hands and put it to her lips. Tara watched closely as the girl swallowed her mouthful. Then, with a cool grin, she extended her hand for the bowl. Epona laid it on her palm.

Tara had to admit that the gruel was tasty. She sent Epona back twice for another helping. Then, with a sigh of satisfaction, she tossed the empty bowl in her prisoner's direction. Epona caught it with a noticeable flinch. "Is there any more left?" Tara asked curtly.

"Not very much, ma'am," the slave said. Her green eyes rested quietly on the ground.

"Good. You're lucky, then. You get to eat tonight." The warrior waved a hand at the fire. "Go have whatever's left, and make it fast. You still have to clean stuff up before we can sleep." Epona ate her meager supper quickly. Tara watched as the girl repacked all their food into the satchel and cleaned their cooking vessel. Then, taking up the ropes that lay beside her, the warrior rose to her feet. "Come here, Epona."

The captive made no protest as Tara tied her hands again. The mercenary looked around, found a patch of relatively soft grass, and ordered her captive to lie down. Epona did as she was told. Tara bound the girl's legs. Then she paused, briefly pushing her finger in between the ropes and the young woman's skin. She judged that the bonds were tight enough to hold her, but not tight enough to cut off her circulation. "Sleep tight," she said pleasantly. Then she returned to her own bedroll.

Although Tara did love a clean, soft bed at an inn every now and then, her first love was still lying down beneath the stars. She stretched out on her bedroll and draped her blanket over herself with a deep sigh of contentment. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the day's fighting and riding. With great satisfaction, Tara closed her eyes.