Queen of the Eight Banners

Part 1, Scene 5 - Past

"Ah, here they are," her father said. 

Ilha looked up from her thoughts to see the contingent of horsemen cresting the next hill. She stiffened and lifted straighter in her saddle, nervous, then pulled her horse to a stop. Eighteen horses, two at point, eight in each wing, she counted. One--the leader--began to canter and the other horses leapt forward to join him as if it'd been a challenge, rushing down the hill towards her.

Sun glistened on polished hauberks and gleaming horseflesh.  Every man--and woman, she noticed as they drew closer--wore full military dress. Each had a sword and quiver buckled to their belts, a bow in its saddle sling, and a helm with the Hu red silk tassle. The leading man's hauberk was painted blue which surprised her.  She'd expected sun-gold yellow to be the royal color.

The two wings drew to a halt in their v-formation. Eight men on the left, eight women on the right. The two leading men continued forward until the man in the blue hauberk pulled up his horse abreast of her. He bowed low to her in his saddle.

Prince Dorgide, her husband-to-be.

When he straightened once more he was smiling. Something shifted inside her when she noted how easily it touched his eyes. He was younger than she'd expected, though still four or five years older than she. His gaze pierced her, as if he could see to her center, and she could not help but find the intensity of his scrutiny unnerving. He had a strong nose and a stronger jaw. He sat tall in the saddle. Confident.

When he spoke to the man beside him, she saw the long braid down his back.  Like the men from the envoy, its familiarity reassured her more than the rest of him had. Yet in that first survey, she could not decide if she found him handsome. His features were course and as sun-darkened as her own--but strange. His face was longer, the bone structure narrower and more angular than she'd expected. It was as Jumara had said, as if he were born of a cross between the Gol and Gui peoples. Yet he did not wear the Gui topknot, and he'd come to meet her in his warrior's attire and give her the escort of the strength of his sword and bow-arm.

Abruptly she realized someone was speaking her language, if strangely. She turned to see the man just beyond Prince Dorgide addressing her.

"…are welcome to his father's lands and he will escort you and your persons to their new homes," the dragoman said.  She recognized him as the man from the envoy who'd spoken to her father.  He spoke slowly now as before, maneuvering the Kharachin dialect with deliberate care, though it took her full concentration to understand his thick accent.

She bowed to them both from the saddle as well, careful not to disturb her earrings and headdress.  She addressed the dragoman, speaking formally and clearly for his sake. "Tell Prince Dorgide I express my gratitude for his gifts and for his kindness in guiding us to our new home."

The dragoman spoke in the foreign tongue. When she glanced to Prince Dorgide--she was too embarrassed to stare at him as he listened to her words--she was surprised to find the delight brimming behind his eyes and smile.

He said something to her which the dragoman dutifully interpreted, "Prince Dorgide asks if you like to hunt." Then, apologetically, he explained, "He saw that your bow and quiver have been used."

Ilha blinked at the dragoman then turned her shock on the Prince. Here was a departure from Hu traditions as she'd learned them. But then, Gol and Hu had never intermarried before. If there were ever a time for breaking tradition or escaping ritual, it was now.  And yet, was there a more important ceremony than The Hunt? Here was a chance to show her future husband the skill and strength of her people.

"I do, my prince," she stammered, remembering an instant later that he could not understand.

Dorgide simply smiled at her. Beneath the warrior's reservation and his apparent amiable nature, she found a lurking calculation or mischief. Beside her, her father shifted in his saddle, his reluctance palpable. Prince Dorgide's expression did not change as his dragoman interpreted his next words, "There is good hunting in this area. Although you are not yet wed and alliance not official, the Prince invites you to join him in Hunt." Then the Prince spoke again and the interpreter added, "He promises you will be safe and the wedding go as planned."

Perhaps it was foolish of her. And yet dozens of possibilities and motivations came to mind, but she dismissed them all. Her people had much to offer the Hu. To slaughter them now would be pointless and without precedent. Unlike many rival leaders she'd encountered, she was relieved to discover Prince Dorgide did not reek of blood-lust.

And that glint of mischief… It was boyish almost, though clearly purposeful and deliberate. It stirred her curiosity and calmed her somehow. A Hunt she knew, a marriage she did not. Perhaps reassuring her was his intention.

She reached out and caught his sleeve, surprised both by her own boldness and that he'd drawn his horse so close alongside hers. She nodded to him, and he smiled then reached for her reins. Drawing them over her mare's head, he winked conspiratorially and her curiosity soared to new heights like a falcon on an up-draft, catching her breath in her throat.  She could not help but smile, and as their two horses leapt into motion, she leaned forward to hide soft laughter in her mare's mane.

A Hunt. How fitting for their first act together.  What better way to learn the layout of his lands and show him her people's strengths. How better to see him in action, leading his people?

Perhaps after today he would not be as much a stranger.

Hope unfurled anew its petals in her heart.

"Wait--Ilha!"  The Hu prince's answering shout of instructions to his people drowned out the rest of her father's shocked cry.

"Trust me, father," she called back. "Follow us!"

The wind rushing past her face, scouring across the grassy hills made her feel like she was soaring.  She leaned nose into the wind like her mare, then straightened, arms spread like wings to catch the wind and lift her up.  Her only caution was to her dangling earrings lest they be caught and tangle with her mare's tack, or her bridal headdress.  She gave a war woop of delight.

Prince Dorgide turned to grin back at her, and she returned it.

When they reached the woods, he brought them to a walk and handed her back her reins.  Exhilarated, she set her reins aside to guide her horse with her knees, taking up her bow from its sling and an arrow from the quiver resting against her thigh.  He nodded approval and led her to a quiet opening within the woods where they each turned and signaled instructions to their people.