Chapter XI

Rafe has a new outlook on Rose - and a new secret for her to figure out. How to react to a new nickname and his defense against Erin?

Chapter XI

He Calls Me Comrade

 

“At least out loud,

I won’t say I’m in love.”

-        Won’t Say (I’m in Love) from Hercules

 

That evening was filled with drinking, dancing, and a whole lot of ridiculous hilarity. I sat with Rafe for most of it, listening to men tell tales of past raids and exchange playing rousing games of “My Horse is Bigger than Your Horse.” It was amusing, actually, to listen to them arguing over the most ridiculous things. I recall leaning into Rafe and asking just loud enough for him to hear me over the din, “Am I the only one who thinking this game is a metaphorical argument for ‘my c**k is bigger than your c**k’?”

     He grinned at me, sipping his mead as he told me, “Actually, comrade, that’s exactly what it is.”

     “Why do men care so much?”

     “You’d never understand,” he said. I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head and said, “No, I’m not going to bother. A woman will never understand.”

     I just shook my head, sipped my own drink, and tactfully told him, “A woman might not understand a man, but a woman does not easily forget, either. I do believe you owe me a dance.”

     Rafe, realizing I’d remembered his offer from a week back, his face fell a bit and the surrounding men laughed. “I’m not drunk enough for that, Rose.”

     Smiling, I took his cup and set it down with mine, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him up to his feet as I countered, “Then you won’t step on my feet.”

     “Rose,” he insisted, honestly nervous now. “I’m serious; you should pick someone who knows how to do this. I’m just going to embarrass you.” I noticed that he had a slight accent, suggesting that he wasn’t from this part of the country. I’d heard the same accent in the north east when I docked here; it made me wonder if he was born around there.

     I smiled, assuring him, “You dance every time you pick up a sword, Rafe, the steps are just different.”

     Confused, he asked, “How is it a dance?”

     “You have specific footing, yes? It’s just the same! You have to find your rhythm, that’s all. It’s nothing, honestly.” Pulling him down into the moving crowd of dancers, I kept hold of both his hands, telling him, “Just don’t flail your arms too much and you won’t look stupid.”

     It took about ten minutes for him to loosen up enough to smile or laugh during the fast-paced jig that was going on. I clapped, nodding as the song ended. He awkwardly admitted, “It wasn’t so bad.”

     The next jig included lyrics, which as we danced, made me laugh repeatedly so I would stumble just slightly. Rafe, who apparently knew the song, was not so surprised and managed to keep his footing rather well for a beginner. I was starting to think he’d played me, but let it go.

     The lyrics were simple but funny:

    

Oh, I see there, a bonny young lass

What a mighty fine a*s-et!

She’s twirling and swirling round the floor

And as I watch her,

My heart, it beats faster,

And suddenly, I’m a poet made drunkard!

 

So we’ll sing and we’ll dance

Light all the lamps!

And it’s down, me rowdy boys, down!

 

I see her a-winking at me

She’s laughing and smiling and it’s so beguiling

So I’ll grab up my cup

And chug, chug, chug!

Cause just yet, I’m not brave enough

 

So we’ll sing and we’ll dance

Light all the lamps!

And it’s down, me rowdy boys, down!

 

I’m seeing two of everything

Swaying and stumb-a-ling

I’m think I’m about ready.

 

… No, I think I’m not.

 

So we’ll sing and we’ll dance

Light all the lamps!

And it’s down, down,

And it’s down, down, down,

Me rowdy boys! It’s down, down, me rowdy boys,

Down!

 

     Rafe and I laughed at the end, clapping and shaking our heads, though the bard seemed rather proud of himself. Just as I went to sit back down and a ballad started up, Rafe grabbed my hand and said, “Now I’ll show you how they dance at court.”

     I smiled, teasing, “You know how they dance at court, do you?”

     “Rose, that’s the only kind of dance I was ever taught.” He smiled, gesturing me forward with his free hand. I went, feeling a bit silly. I’d only ever danced around bonfires and during rituals. Courtly dancing wasn’t my expertise. It was my turn to be nervous, it seems. I stood a few inches from him and he gently placed his hand on my lower back, saying calmly, “You’ll have to move in a bit.” He pulled me against him, adding, “Like this.”

     Nodding, I asked, “Will you promise not to step on my feet?”

     “Yes,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry about stepping on mine. You’re too light to hurt me much.” He took my left hand and placed it on his shoulder, holding my right hand out with his left on my waist and his right squarely on the middle of my back. I looked up at him with big nervous eyes and he just grinned, his deep rumble of a voice soothing, “It’s not that hard. If you want, you can stand on my feet until you think you’ve got the way of it.”

     “No,” I said. “I’ll figure it out.”

     “Just count in your head. I had to for a few years before I kept the steps logged away somewhere in my brain,” he admitted. The steps really weren’t horribly difficult and I caught on soon enough. He smiled, complimenting me with a soft, “See? You’ve got it. I told you.”

     “Much as I told you,” I countered.

     “That’s fair,” he said, still grinning. We danced and after a few moments, I shyly rested my head against his shoulder and just listened to the music. I felt as nervous as I seemed in my timid motions, keeping my head just off his chest so there was no weight on him. I heard the deep rolling rumble under my ear as he said, “You can rest your head if you want. You earned it after today.”

     At that, I looked up at him, surprised as we slowly turned round and round to the music. I kept forgetting that other people were around us. Somehow, dancing like this gave off the feeling that there was no one else; it was just him and me. Confused, I asked, “What makes you say that? I thought you were against me sneaking out and going to fight.”

     “I was,” he admitted calmly, looking down at me with such serene eyes. I’d never seen him so contented. It was strange. “You really pulled through, though. Your cover protected John where he was just a bit too slow, a bit too weak. It kept Spike from being cleaved in the back because the man never looks back when he’s fighting. He’s used to having John right behind him, but his partner was slower than normal today.” He paused, as if thinking of how to say the next few words. Then, he told me very softly, “You covered me, even. I don’t normally need it but… I get cocky. You being there must have saved me at least a dozen times.”

     “Only six,” I assured him. An amused raise of his eyebrow made me blush as I said, “I was positive that you would throw a fit, so I counted just how many times I had to cover you to throw it in your face if you got… well, you can imagine where my head was.” Blushing more, I glanced out into the crowd, not really seeing them, as I finished very lamely, “You really didn’t require that much attention. It was that last man that had me worried.”

     “What do you mean?” I’d never seen him this… soft and gentle. I started to wonder if it was the music or maybe the humbling effects of admitting he was wrong. His voice was even a light rumble compared to the normal gruff sardonic tones.

     Shrugging one shoulder slightly, I explained, “You were trapped in a deadlock with that man. All day, I watched you get into dozens of them but you always broke out within a few seconds. That man, though… he really had you for a few minutes. I was scared that the man with the ax was going to get to you before you could break free. That’s why I jumped into sight. I was going to sneak back and heal up my wounds so you wouldn’t ever know �" but there was no one around to save you. I… I had to do something.”

     He smiled at me, releasing my hand which I then put on his other shoulder, and he touched my cheek. I didn’t move as his thumb lightly traced the line across the skin. He frowned slightly, asking, “Why haven’t you healed that? I would expect any woman to want such a thing gone.”

     I grinned a bit, telling him easily, “I’m not any woman, am I?”

     The statement was supposed to be a bit of a joke, but he didn’t smile or laugh. His eyes locked down on mine and I felt like I couldn’t move. We stopped dancing and I was vaguely aware of the fact that the music had ended. Was that whole thing just a few minutes? He gave me that grin; close-lipped and hesitant, only one corner lifted. Rafe brushed a lock of hair back from my face and said, “No, you’re definitely not.”

     Without so much as another word, he stepped away, bowed to me, and then left me standing there staring dumbly after him in the middle of a crowd of cheering people �" only able to wonder what had just happened.

 

     Rafe seemed to be back to normal the next day. I woke to find him getting dressed. He glanced at me, grinned, and said, “Good morning, comrade; it’s about time you woke up. It’s nearly noon.”

     Sleepily, I pulled my hair free of the tie and shook it a bit to free it. With a little yawn, covering my mouth with my hand, I asked, “Where are you going?”

     “I have to go see Spike and John. The men are calm after spilling some blood but they aren’t done.” He paused, seeming hesitant. “Would you want to come along?”

     Grinning with sleepy eyes, I teased, “He apologizes, he dances with me, and now he’s inviting me to go to some war council. A true romantic, you are, Rafe.”

     He rolled his eyes with a little grin and said, “It was just a thought.”

     “Let me get dressed,” I told him. He seemed surprised but I caught him smiling after a minute out of the corner of my eye. I pretended not to notice, though, as I slipped out of my shift and got into the white dress I liked to wear. The sleeve that had been torn kept falling apart, so I ended up cutting the sleeve off entirely. Now, the dress flashed my right arm and the tattoo that engulfed my right shoulder and bicep.

     He gingerly touched my arm, his thumb tracing the intricate design for a moment as he asked, “I heard you tell John and Spike about it, but it still confuses me. How does a tattoo do anything?”

     “Rafe, trust me. If I knew how to explain, I would.” Turning to him, I asked nervously, “Do I look exhausted? I feel it.”

       

     From the time we met until last night, Rafe didn’t touch me or come within a foot of me, but after last night, he seemed to become more comfortable with touching me. He lightly brushed a tuft of hair out of my face and smiled tiredly at me, saying, “No one is going to notice if you look tired, which you don’t. We’re a bunch of tired men who are all either hung over, still buzzing, filthy, or all of the above.”Chuckling, he assured me, “You’ll be the prettiest thing in the room.”

     Needing to understand and never having a very solid control of what came out of my mouth, I blurted, “A week ago, you kept a foot between us almost constantly. Now you seem to be okay with being closer to me. Why is that?”

     He turned to me and I saw the mask. He didn’t want me to know exactly what was going through his mind, and I felt a bit hurt though I understood. Calmly, he explained, “A week ago, you were this girl who kept needing saving. A week ago, I was positive that you would easily be killed if left alone in the middle of trouble. Yesterday, you proved that you can defend yourself. In proving that, you’ve proved that I wouldn’t have to spend every second worrying about what might happen to you.”

     “In other words,” I said, a bit stung at the idea of being thought of as a frail girl, “I’m no longer a liability.”

     Instead of trying to defend it, he said bluntly (something he seemed to do no matter what the consequence), “Yes, Rose, that’s exactly it. A week ago, you were something that could get me killed if I had to lose focus to watch you. Now, as long as I keep a bow and a healthy amount of arrows on you, I can be assured that you’ll be fine.”

     For some reason, his sudden faith in me was more offensive than gladdening. “That’s… bullshit. I told you that I could use a bow and you didn’t believe me until yesterday? Are you kidding me?”

     He remained perfectly calm, seeming unaffected by my irritation. “Rose, you grew up in a world where women can be warriors. I grew up in a world where the only female warriors to exist in this country disappeared twenty years ago �" when I was four.”

     “Why’d they disappear?”

     “Men are arrogant now, but they were worse then,” he admitted freely. “Every man in Haven and the Brotherhood was positive that no woman could hold her own on the battle field �" because as good as they actually were, none of them could best the men. They weren’t trained enough; not their fault, but the truth.” He paused, seeing that I wasn’t chilling out. Continuing, he exhaled heavily, “They called themselves Blade Sisters. Since the Guard would never take a band of women and both rebel factions refused their help, all sixty women disappeared. It’s believed that they have a home somewhere in country, but no one has seen or heard those who left. Most men believe they all went to live in Ithon.”

     Blinking, I randomly recalled aloud, “Fifteen women on my island told me of this country, told me that they were warriors for factions called the Brotherhood and Haven �" but I was just a little girl. I didn’t understand and they were just tales. I imagine they were some of the women who left.”

     “More than likely,” he agreed. “Now, are you going to stop being irritated with ingrained belief or should I go alone?”

     I thought for a moment before asking, “Why do you keep calling me comrade?”

     He raised a brow and asked, “Do you want me to stop? You lit up when I called you comrade yesterday. I assumed it was a nickname you liked.”

     Shyly, I questioned, “I do like it; it means you see me as an equal. I liked that. I’m just curious, that’s all. I mean, I understand the once, but you’ve been calling me comrade for a whole day now.”

“Maybe I just like having a nickname for you, Rose,” he replied, tightening the laces of his boots.

“Is there a reason you have a nickname for me?”I honestly didn’t know. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question.

     Now he gave me a sidelong look that clearly read that he thought that was a stupid question. “Are you serious?”

     “Yes,” I said defensively.

     He just shook his head, starting for the door (and I followed) as he said, “Rose, if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

     “Why won’t you tell me?”

     As he opened the front door, he turned just in time to have his face less than an inch from mine as he said firmly but softly, “If I tell you, giving you the nickname defeats its purpose entirely. You’re a smart girl. You’ll catch on soon enough.”

     Following him, I asked, “What if I don’t?”

     He replied over his shoulder. “I’m a patient man, Rose. If it’s not obvious now, I know it will be in time. Trust me; you’ll figure it out at some point.”

     Sighing, I could only follow after him, sullenly wondering what it was he was hiding from me now.  

 

     The council room was completely round. They hollowed out one of the largest trees in this area to make it. I saw that besides John and Spike, there were eight other men I didn’t know. Rafe calmly turned to all of them and said, “Gentlemen, Lady Rose decided to join me today. I thought that after her part in the ambush, it was only fair to allow it.”

     No one disagreed, but every man in the room tipped their hat and introduced themselves, though I only barely caught some of their names. I was bad about names sometimes. No one was sitting, but Rafe pulled a chair out and gestured for me to sit. Apparently, unlike it Ithon, it mattered if the men sat before the lady in the room, because it was only once I was seated that anyone else reached for a chair. There was a long table in the middle of all the chairs, and the walls were covered in different framed documents. I didn’t try to read any of them but rather turned to all of the men around me.

     Rafe sat at my right, immediately kicking things off. I found myself watching him as he spoke. I knew him as the mysterious-type of man with (after what I’d seen yesterday) lethal abilities that had the power to scare most men. He was well rounded and had the potential to be a polite person, but in general, he was sarcastic and a bit rude. Now, I was seeing a diplomatic side to him and it surprised me.

     “Alright,” he started. “The ambush has most of your men happy at the moment, but we all know that no one is satisfied. They still want blood. We can’t outright raid the Barracks. We’ve seen how well that worked out. They knew we were coming. That means we have a mole. What do we do, my friends?”

     Erin showed up at that moment, saw me, rolled his eyes, and immediately asked, “What is a woman doing in a war council?”

     Before anyone could try and stick up for me, I made it clear to the room that I wasn’t stupid by sticking up for myself. “Unlike you, Erin, some of us fought in the ambush yesterday. Among those who fought, I was one. Those men are still alive because of me; as such, I have right to be here. You can very kindly keep your forked tongue between your teeth unless you’d like to see what a bow in a woman’s hands can do close hand?”

     No one said a word. All eyes turned to Erin, wanting to see how he planned to respond. Uppity as expected, he replied coolly, “I hardly see how knowing how to shoot a sharp stick makes you qualified for man’s talk, sweetheart.”

     “I hardly see how knowing how to read words with more than ten letters gives you right to be an envoy for Haven, Erin,” I said vehemently. “You can cut the crap. You’re no more intelligent than any other man in this room.” My voice got a bit vicious, even for me, as I finished, “Fancy titles don’t make you any more of a man. It just gives you some odd idea that you can be a pompous dick and get away with it.” I paused. “An idea, I shall kindly inform you, which is and always has been completely incorrect.”

     Now all eyes swiveled back to Erin, waiting for the next response. He glared at me, appealing to the room, “Gentlemen, why is there a mouthy b***h in this room?”

     Rafe came to my aid as he leaned back in his chair, both booted feet swinging up onto the corner of the table as he lounged, calmly saying, “I don’t know, men. Why is there a mouthy b***h in the room?” I started to glare at him until John spoke.

     It was his comment that made me realize who they were talking about. “I think we should tell the b***h to leave,” John began. “Though, the b***h hasn’t even had a chance to settle in.”

     Erin hadn’t caught on yet and smiled arrogantly at me until Spike said, “I don’t like having mouthy b*****s in the room when I’m trying to have intelligent conversations.” He turned to Erin and said, “I’ll brief you later, Erin. Get out.”

     Outraged, Erin demanded, “I am the Courier sent by Haven! I have a right to be present for this meeting!”

     “No,” an older man spoke up. I turned to the man. He wasn’t ancient, but he was older than even Spike and John. Something about the cleanly trimmed beard, the silvery hair, weathered tan skin, and the wisdom in his eyes made me look at this man and think ‘leader’. “You have an obligation to be here. You have a duty to be informed of what’s going on in Bird’s Hollow. However,” the man went on. “I am in charge of Bird’s Hollow, as a whole. That being said, I want you out of my council. Sheldon has agreed to fill you in later.” The man’s eyes narrowed and his voiced seemed to do the same. “That means you’ll keep to your duty of being informed. You have no business here.”

     Whispering, I leaned into Rafe and asked, “Spike’s real name is Sheldon?”

     “He’s excellent with a pike. It’s a play on the first letter of his name and his favorite weapon,” he explained, whispering in my ear so as to not disturb the conversation going on.

     Still enraged, Erin pointed at me and accused, “The only reason that she’s here is because she’s f*****g him!” His accusing finger moved to point at Rafe, who didn’t seem bothered at all by the statement.

     I started to speak but Rafe shook his head, subtly gesturing for me to remain silent. He leaned back, feet up on the table with his elbow on the arm of his chair as he stroked the stubble on his chin in absent thought. The men of the table were looking at him now, waiting for a comment or response. Rafe stared stoically at Erin for a very long minute and no one rushed him to speak in turn.

     Rafe, absently inspecting his nails for a moment before looking at Erin at all, said with a very bored voice, “I hardly see why I would only bring her now, after two weeks, if she and I actually were having sex. By that logic,” he continued, arrogance leaking into the bored-like voice. “That would mean I felt the right to bring my consort to council, correct? Let’s inspect that. Up until now, I have never brought her along, and she’s never been terribly well informed of what I do when I come to council. If that were true,” he went on. “By the way, gentlemen, I assure you not only for the sake of honesty but for the lady’s own honor, it is not. If that were true, however, that would likely mean I would have been arrogant enough to bring her from the start.”

     Every man in the room was looking at Erin, some of them grinning in amusement at the way Rafe had him verbally pinned and some shaking their head in annoyance at him. Rafe, finishing his argument, feigned confusion as he toyed with the knife he’d (again, looking oh-so bored) pulled from his belt and he pointed it idly at Erin as he spoke. “Tell me, Erin. Why would I only bring her now if I were arrogant enough to bring my consort to council?” Pretending now to have a sudden thought, he kept teasing with that fake confusion, “Oh, but what if, instead, I brought a woman of profound intelligence who has not only aided the cause, but who may have an outsider’s opinion on how to proceed on the matter?”

     Chuckling, he finished off completely, “Gee, what an idea that is! But, she’s just a woman, isn’t she, Erin? Women don’t fight- though she certainly killed her fair share yesterday. Women don’t think. They just lie on their backs and pray you’ll be done soon, right?”

     Purple with rage, Erin glared ferociously at Rafe for a long moment before his gaze fell on me. The look he gave me made me feel unimaginably small but I refused to let him see it. It helped that under the table Rafe’s large hand covered my knee and gave a light squeeze. I put my hand over his and he took it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him grin ever so slightly but it immediately faded.

     In a flash, Erin left and the door slammed shut. Rafe just grinned broadly in amusement at the sight, turning to everyone else as he said casually, as if it hadn’t happened at all, “Shall we move on?”

Author's Note

WRITERSCAFE REPLACES - WITH " SO DON'T TELL ME. I KNOW. KTHNX. -- Tell me whatcha think. (: