Giv, the self-proclaimed wandering minstrel, acquired a horse after escaping the royal capital of Ecbatana. At first, he tried to buy one from a farmer in a nearby village. But after learning that Lusitanian soldiers had already stolen the villagers’ food and sheep, he changed his approach. Instead, he crossed swords with a lone Lusitanian rider who appeared to be a courier and acquired the horse free of charge. The purse and gold-decorated belt he took as well were, in Giv’s opinion, perfectly legitimate compensation for his labor.
The encounter that followed was not entirely a matter of chance. Anyone traveling while avoiding Lusitanian patrols naturally found their routes and schedule restricted.
When the two riders passed each other, it was only prudent that both kept their distance, ready to draw steel at a moment’s notice. The night was lit by a half moon, and seven or eight gaz separated them. At first, Giv noticed nothing unusual. He realized she was a woman in disguise only when the wind shifted and the night breeze carried a feminine scent. Giv turned in his saddle to observe her.
The rider’s head was wrapped in silk cloth, but beneath it flowed jet-black hair, dark as the night itself, reaching well below the waist. Her eyes were a vivid green, like the lush greenery of early summer. He only saw them because she glanced back over her shoulder as well, though surely for reasons quite different from his own.
The moment she felt his gaze, she urged her horse onward and increased the distance between them.
For a while, Giv simply stared after the retreating figure beneath the moonlight. Then he slapped his knee. “Hm, a rare beauty indeed. And young enough to outshine that deceitful queen.”
His thoughts immediately began racing. For the moment, he had found a purpose.
“That beauty will be attacked by scoundrels. Then I’ll save her. Naturally, she’ll be filled with gratitude and admiration. Then she’ll think she ought to repay me in some way. That’s how it will go. I hope so. That’s how it should go.”
Having reached this self-serving conclusion, Giv guided his horse forward, following her at a discreet distance.
It didn’t take long for the opportunity to arrive. Since the fall of the capital, Lusitanian soldiers roamed more freely than ever, riding in bands and indulging in murder and plunder as they pleased. Prince Guiscard had issued an edict forbidding harm to law-abiding civilians, but enforcement was another matter entirely.
From between rows of cypress trees emerged seven or eight dark silhouettes who moved to block the woman’s path. The Lusitanian words they shouted at her carried a distinctly vulgar tone.
The woman irritably nudged her horse’s flank with her heel. The animal was clearly well trained. Understanding its rider’s intent, it sprang forward before the Lusitanians could react.
By the time the soldiers, now some thirty gaz behind, began to give chase, the woman was already drawing her bow taut on horseback like a full moon.
The next instant, it seemed as though a shaft of moonlight had taken the form of an arrow and pierced a knight.
Blood burst from the man’s throat along with a strangled cry, and he tumbled from his saddle onto the road.
Recovering from their momentary shock, the others charged at the woman with angry shouts, swords flashing. Or rather, they tried to. As the twang of the bowstring tore through the night air, another rider was thrown from his horse, crashing into the dust. A third arrow flew, and a third horse was left riderless.
“This is bad.”
Giv spurred his horse forward and burst onto the road a little earlier than planned. If he waited any longer, he would lose his chance to earn the woman’s gratitude. The first Lusitanian soldier who turned at the sound of hoofbeats became the first victim.
Giv cut him down in a single stroke from left shoulder to chest. Shrieking and spraying blood toward the half-moon, the man was knocked from his horse.
The appearance of a new and dangerous enemy startled the Lusitanian soldiers. Foreign words Giv did not understand were shouted back and forth as swords and horses scattered to either side. They tried to surround him from three directions, but Giv’s speed stopped them. One man’s throat opened in a spray of blood, another had his nose shattered and reeled backward. This chapter was copied from novelping(.)com without permission.
The remaining two riders stopped clinging to notions of honor. They spurred their horses hard, fleeing into the darkness beyond the road. Giv watched them go with a sneer, then turned, and panicked a little. The woman was already leaving. This was quite different from what he had expected.
“Wait there, lady!” he shouted.
The woman showed no sign of stopping her horse, either because she hadn’t heard him or because she chose to ignore him.
“Hey, beautiful lady!” he called louder.
Still no response.
“Hey, absolutely stunning beauty!”
At last, she stopped. Slowly, she turned in her saddle. Her refined face, touched by the moonlight at an angle, was serene.
“Did you call me?”
Even Giv hesitated for a brief moment over how to respond.
“There are plenty of beautiful ladies around, but not many absolutely stunning beauties.” Her casual acceptance of the compliment was strangely free of vanity.
Giv found himself oddly pleased, and he finally found his usual voice. “Not only is your beauty remarkable,” he said, “but your skill with the bow is also deeply impressive. My name is Giv, a wandering minstrel with no home, though I like to think my love for beauty surpasses even that of nobles and kings. Just now, I mustered my meager poetic talent to compose a poem in your honor.”
“…”
“You stand like a cypress tree, your black hair as if carved from the night sky itself. Your eyes outshine emeralds, and your lovely lips are like rose petals touched by morning dew.”
“You lack creativity for a minstrel,” she said flatly.
Giv scratched his head. “Well, I may lack experience as a poet. But I do believe my love of beauty and justice rivals that of the great poets of old. That’s exactly why I was able to save you at just the right moment.”
“Your timing seemed a little too convenient,” she said. “You were waiting for the right moment, weren’t you?”
“That is a slanderous interpretation. My patron goddess, Lady Ashi, simply bestowed upon us both her protection, and those godless Lusitanian barbarians received divine punishment for their irreverence. Surely you would not deny that heaven approved of justice.”
The woman gave a strained smile. When Giv asked her name, she answered without a second thought, “My name is Farangis. I serve at the Temple of Mithra in Khuzestan. I was sent as an envoy to the royal capital of Ecbatana by the high priestess.”
“Oh, Mithra! I offer my respect to Mithra just after Lady Ashi. Miss Farangis, I feel there must be some profound connection between us.” Get faster updates on g.com.
The beautiful kahina[1] disregarded his flippancy. “But I heard that the capital had already fallen. I couldn’t very well slink back home, so I was looking for a place to stay the night when I ran into those Lusitanian dogs.”
“What business did you have in the capital?”
“I was going to see Prince Arslan. Let me ask you something, respectable minstrel. Do you happen to know where the prince is?”
“No, I don’t,” Giv answered. “But if you’re looking for him, I might be able to help. Still, why are you searching for Prince Arslan?”
“Our temple was founded in the prince’s name when he was born. So when his life is in danger, those of us who serve the temple and know the art of war are supposed to go to his aid. That was the dying wish of the former high priestess, who passed away this spring.” Farangis shook her head slightly. “People who leave last wills never think about the trouble they cause the living. I was chosen from among those who met the qualifications, though not solely because I am the most skilled in martial arts.”
“And why was that?”
“A woman as beautiful as I am, and as accomplished in both academics and combat, tends to stir envy among her peers.”
“I… see.”
“So, under the name of carrying out the late high priestess’s will, they effectively drove me out of the temple. Does that make things clear, minstrel?”
Giv did not doubt her words, but he still allowed himself a few guesses. Perhaps some lecherous priest had made advances on her and received a solid elbow for his trouble, making it impossible for her to stay in the temple. No matter how skilled she was, the mission was far too dangerous for a woman to be sent alone.
“You could always abandon such an unwanted mission, Miss Farangis.”
“No. Either way, I dislike the way the Lusitanians behave. I serve the god Mithra, but I have never forced my faith on anyone who did not want it. If it were up to me, I would drive them out of Pars.”
Giv nodded firmly. “I understand completely. And I agree with you.”
“You are not just saying that?”
Her voice was sharp, but it did not seem to trouble him.
“No, I mean it. I don’t like the way the Lusitanians try to impose their god on others. It’s like saying only women with golden hair, blue eyes, and snow-white skin are beautiful, and refusing to recognize any other kind of beauty. What people find beautiful or valuable differ from person to person. It should not be forced.”
Giv paused. He noticed that Farangis had closed her eyes and brought a small crystal flute to her lips. No sound came from it.
Under the light of the half-moon, Giv admired her immaculate face, which looked like porcelain from Serica.
1. Parsian term for a priestess. Based on the Arabic kāhina, meaning a female seer, soothsayer, or priestess. ↩