Page 85 of Circle of Days

Joia spent most of the night lying awake, listening for the sound of an approaching army. She was scared for herself, but much more for her family and Dee and everyone else. She remembered with horror the woodlander attack, the flames and the violence and the dead bodies.

Eventually she slept, then woke up suddenly, frightened, but there was still no sound. She got up in the dark and made her way to the Monument by starlight. There was no farmer army.

Troon might have changed his mind, but Joia thought it more than likely he had decided to attack the volunteers on their mission. They would have to be ready for anything.

She smelled cooking. Verila, who had become caterer to the volunteers, was now boiling salt pork to send them on their way.

Joia was still reeling from last night’s conversation with Dee.

She felt mortified that she had caused such unhappiness to the one she loved.

She had done it out of ignorance, but knowing that made it even worse.

And she did not know whether the damage could be repaired, or even if Dee wanted to repair it.

At dawn the volunteers started arriving, and each was given a fragrant slice of pork. Scagga was not there but Jara, his sister, turned up. “He doesn’t like to rise early in the morning,” she explained.

Joia said: “There’s no sign of the farmer army, happily.”

“Good. However, they may attack the volunteers on the mission.”

“That was always a possibility.”

“So we need to arm the volunteers.”

Joia hesitated for only a moment. She hated weapons but she could not let her volunteers go defenseless. “Yes,” she said. “They should each have a bow, six arrows, and a leather protective wrist band.”

A moment’s thought told her they could not possibly have enough bows for the number of people she was hoping to take on the mission, and she went on: “When we run out of bows, we should tell people to bring axes or hammers, or even just clubs. I don’t want anyone to be vulnerable.”

“I’m coming on the mission myself,” Jara said, surprising Joia. “I’ll keep an eye on the volunteers’ preparedness.”

Jara would probably be a better military leader than me, Joia thought.

As volunteers streamed into the Monument, Joia did her best to estimate numbers and figure out whether she would hit her target. The dawn light grew stronger, more people arrived, and she began to think she would succeed.

Then she saw Dee in the crowd. That bucked her up.

With Dee on the mission, there would be many opportunities to talk.

Joia would have a chance to put matters right.

She would apologize abjectly and beg to be allowed to start again.

She would not hesitate to humiliate herself. The rest of her life hung on this.

Volunteers were still arriving when the sun rose. Joia, feeling cheerier now, decided to set off right away. It would take time to get so many people moving. Latecomers could join the tail end.

She led. They would not follow anyone else.

Last summer Joia had walked beside Dee. Today Dee was somewhere in the crowd behind, and Joia was walking with Jara.

All morning they followed the East River under a hot summer sun, and they reached the village of Upriver at midday.

Joia and Jara and many others crowded into the river to cool off.

As they rested in the clear water, Jara looked back at the route they had traveled and said: “The farmers won’t attack here, beside the river.

It would be a bad choice for a battlefield. ”

“Why’s that?” Joia asked.

“The land rises on the other side of the path. The only flat area is the path itself. There’s no space to fight.”

Joia found that convincing. Jara probably spent a lot of time talking with her family about battles, especially the two occasions when the Monument had been attacked.

When they moved off again, they turned away from the river into a wide stretch of grassland being grazed by the herd. Joia said: “It’s like this until we reach the North Hills.”

“Gently sloping and unobstructed,” Jara said. “This will be our danger zone.”

At suppertime in Stony Valley, Joia saw Dee sitting alone, in a bed of oxeye daisies, under one of the few trees that Seft had not felled. Joia took her beef and sat next to Dee without asking.

Unluckily, a young woman chose to sit near them, looking as if she wanted to chat. “That’s a long walk!” she said.

“Indeed,” said Joia.

Dee said nothing.

The woman looked at them, realizing she was not welcome. “Oh,” she said, “you’re Joia.” She looked at Dee. “And you’re the one who fascinated Joia on the last trip.” She got up. “I will leave you two alone.”

Joia said: “I’m sorry if we’ve been unfriendly.”

The woman did not seem to mind.

As she walked away, Joia said to Dee: “Thank you for joining in the mission. Last night you said you’d think about it. I’m glad you decided to come.”

Dee did not reply, but looked at her expectantly.

Joia said: “I’m bitterly sorry for what I did to you. I didn’t intend it, but it seems that makes no difference.”

Dee seemed to agree with that, though she did not say anything.

“I do love you,” Joia said, “even though I failed to show it. But now at least I’ve said it.”

Dee spoke at last. “Yes,” she said, “at least you’ve said it.” And with that she got up and walked away.

Joia wanted to scream. She could not figure out what Dee wanted, and Dee would not tell her.

She was determined not to cry. She was the leader and had to be strong.

She took a deep breath and stood up, dry-eyed.

She began to walk around the valley, talking to the volunteers.

“How do you feel? A bit tired? Me, too. Get some sleep! Be ready for tomorrow.” She could see that many of them were forming couples, and she guessed they might not get a full night’s sleep, no matter what she said.

Jara set up a night watch in case of a sneak raid by the farmers. She stationed volunteers on the outskirts of the camp, in pairs to stop one another falling asleep.

The sun set, and in the dusk Joia looked for a place to sleep. Her eye fell again on Dee, already lying down.

Joia lay facing her.

Dee opened her eyes but said nothing.

Joia said: “I am not going to let this happen.”

“What?”

“I am not going to lose you. I’m determined.”

“Is that so?”

Joia said: “I’ve had sex twice, once with a boy and once with a girl, both times at the revel. I did it because I wanted to find out what it was like.”

Dee raised up on her elbow and said: “What was it like?”

Joia was encouraged. She’s talking to me, she thought.

She said: “I knew the boy, though not well. He kissed me and put his tongue in my mouth, then he felt my body all over. He asked me to rub his cock, so I did, but he said I was doing it wrong and he showed me how he liked it. Then he sploshed. It smelled funny.”

“And that was all?”

“I don’t think he enjoyed it much, and I didn’t enjoy it at all.”

“What about the girl?”

“I didn’t know her. She kissed me all over, then lay on top of me, rubbing her pussy against mine. After a while she made a little noise, then rolled off me. I asked her if it had been nice, and she said: ‘Not very. Was it nice for you?’ I said: ‘Not really.’ And that was that.”

“So that’s your whole sexual history?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

Joia raised up on her elbow, mirroring Dee. “A year ago you kissed me, and it was so lovely that I’ve been thinking about it ever since. If sex was like that I’d do it every day.”

“Really?”

“Would you kiss me like that again? Please?”

Dee shuffled closer to her, leaned forward, and kissed her lips. The kiss was soft and loving, just like before. This time it lasted longer. When at last Dee moved away and took a deep breath, Joia said: “That’s right, exactly like that. Would you do it again?”

Dee gently pushed her down until she was lying on her back, then leaned over her. “What you did before, with the boy and the girl at the revel, that wasn’t really sex,” she said. “It was going through the motions.”

“What makes the difference?”

“We love each other,” Dee said, then she kissed Joia again.

After a while Dee sat up and pulled her tunic over her head. Joia did the same. They lay down again, and Joia said: “What should I do?”

“Do you ever stroke yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you touch yourself?”

“My nipples, and my pussy.”

“Anything you do to yourself, you can do to me.”

Dee’s breasts seemed to shine in the moonlight.

Joia felt an eager impulse to fondle them.

And she suspected that this was what Dee wanted, although she could not be sure with Dee in this mood.

She reached out with both hands and touched them.

Dee’s skin was warm. Her breasts were bigger than Joia’s.

Joia touched the nipples experimentally, stroking them lightly.

Dee breathed a little harder, and Joia felt a thrill to realize that she had caused that.

Then Dee pushed Joia’s hands away, seeming almost impatient, and bent her head to Joia’s breasts. She kissed them all around, then took a nipple into her mouth. Suddenly she felt a deliciously pleasurable sensation, and she said: “Oh!”

Dee moved her mouth to the other side, then back again, in a way that Joia found frustrating and thrilling at the same time. And there was another thrill, that of doing such intimate, such private things, not with just anybody, but with Dee.

Dee moved again, and took Joia’s hand and placed it on her pussy. Joia had never touched anyone’s other than her own, and she found the experience strange. She moved her hand a little, experimentally, and Dee said: “Yes.”