Tales of Red Sonja

Menagerie: Chapter Five

In which Red Sonja meets her match - in a manner of speaking.

"A what?" Sonja asked, astonished.

"A comb," Clodia told her. "Your hair's a mess. Sit down here."

"Is your daughter always this bossy?" Sonja asked Jharlen.

"Well –"

"Quiet, Father. Go and stir the stew for a minute. Then set another place at the table. You know where everything is."

" – yes, I'm afraid so," Jharlen finished, heading for the kitchen. "I'd do as she says if I were you."

Clodia produced a comb and gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Amused, Sonja sat. Clodia set to.

"Gods – when did you last comb your hair?"

"A few days ago."

"More like weeks."

"Ow!"

"Serves you right for letting it get so full of tangles." Then Clodia's voice suddenly changed. She was no longer the self-confident woman of the house, but a timid little girl. "I used to comb my mother's hair." Her tone was soft and wistful. "I liked doing that."

"I bet your mother liked it, too."

"I think so. She'd comb my hair, then I'd comb hers. Her hair was black, though. Like a raven's wing. I've never seen anyone with hair this colour."

"I come from a land far from here," Sonja said. "Your mother's dead, I hear."

"Yes; last spring. Now I keep house for father."

"How did your mother die?"

"She was taken by one of Galud's creatures."

"Clodia," Jharlen said sternly as he came back into the room, "you don't know that."

"Oh, don't I?" Clodia snapped. "She went into the woods to gather berries and never came back. What else could've happened?"

"Many things, but this is not the time to talk of them. Now it is time to eat."

"Just a moment. There – your hair's just about presentable now."

"They sat round the table. Clodia ladled a rich stew into three bowls whilst Jharlen poured out some ale. Murmuring her thanks, Sonja picked up a spoon.

"I do hope you're not going to keep those gloves on whilst you're eating," Clodia said.

Guiltily, Sonja removed them.

After the meal, Clodia cleared the table, then fetched some blankets. "You can have my room; I'll sleep in here."

"No," Jharlen began, "I'll sleep in here."

"Be quiet, Father."

"If I'd spoken to my father like that," Sonja said, "he'd've taken his belt to me."

"Would it have stopped you?"

"No," Sonja laughed. "He beat me many times but it didn't change me."

"It wouldn't change me, either. Father knows this, which is why he only uses his belt to hold his trousers up."

Sonja laughed again. "Tell me," she asked, "I've travelled far and wide in the world, seen many customs. But one thing is the same almost everywhere, which is that the guest's wishes are paramount. Is that so here?"

"It is," Jharlen said.

"Then I will sleep in here. I'm used to doing without a bed."

"I can tell that from the state of your hair."

"What would happen if I took my belt to you?" Sonja asked, trying to keep a smile off her face, but failing.

"You wouldn't get breakfast."

"Fair enough."

"And since I'm the one who's going to have to cook breakfast, I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, Red Sonja."

"Goodnight, Clodia."

"Goodnight, Father." She kissed him affectionately on the forehead and retired into her own room.

"I'm sorry about my daughter," Jharlen began.

"Don't be," Sonja told him. "I like her. Really I do."

"It's a charade, though. She acts the good housewife; keeps me in my place. But underneath it all she's just a girl, still. She misses her mother terribly. Sometimes I hear her crying in the night."

"I understand. I know what it's like to lose someone dear when you're young."

"You do?"

"Yes. My family was murdered when I was not much older than Clodia. I've been looking for a home ever since."

"I'm sorry – I didn't realise."

"Why should you? Anyway; tell me more about this wizard and his – what did you call it – Howling Tower."