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“A man came to see Lizzie some three days past asking about using her spare room. It was occupied at the time, my best customer’s regular visit, which turned out to be a blessing because we heard the way he spoke to Lizzie and did not like the sound of him at all. He made a time to return the next day, and John, I mean my, er customer, waited outside at the appointed time and listened by the window. He has a soft spot for Lizzie, see. He has some particular unusual needs that she tries to accommodate, but that is by the by. Once Lizzie showed the man her spare room, he started on at her. Said he knew all about what had happened to her, but he needed to see where it happened and exactly how it happened in her own words. When she refused to say anything, he threatened her, told her it would not go well for her if she did not cooperate. Long and short of it, she asked him to leave. He made a grab for her. She did what you taught us and elbowed him in the kidneys and grabbed a paddle—”
“A paddle?” Maud said with innocent curiosity.
“Like I told you my customer has some particular unusual needs. Lizzie supplies the paddle and I do the…well, the paddling. Next thing the poxy scoundrel pulls his dagger. John, my customer, hears the ruckus and comes to the rescue. He’s a gentleman and allowed to carry a rapier, which he unsheathes and waves about. The man scarpers, a bit the worse for wear. Of course then we get to wondering, how did he know what happened to Lizzie? How did he know where to find her? Eh?”
At this point in the tale Lizzie jumped up and pointed at Rosalind. “Our secrets were safe until she came along!” Noise erupted as arguments and accusations were hurled around the room. Lucinda picked up two buckler shields and banged them together which made an almighty clang, bringing Grandma Jones running in.
“What one earth? It’s a rabble in here.” It was her sudden appearance that caused silence to break out, a silence so abrupt and pervasive you would have thought it could not possibly be the same group of women in the room as a few moments before.
“It is nothing, Grandma, a little passionate discussion among friends.” Lucinda made a point of looking directly at Lizzie and Rosalind. Lizzie met her stare with a defiant flick of her red plait while sweet Rosalind appeared to be on the verge of tears.
“Well I better not hear any more ruckus. You are worse than the men!” After Grandma Jones’ departure, Lizzie remained sullen, arms folded into an accusing pose. Rosalind’s shoulders were slumped, limp as a flower denied any water.
“I fear Lizzie is right and it is all my fault. My uncle made me go to see a strange and powerful man. He looked like a wizard—”
“So now it is a wizard’s fault,” Lizzie scoffed.
“Tis true! Ask Lucinda. She was there.” All eyes swiveled in Lucinda’s direction as Rosalind continued her explanation. “We all had to partake of a potent drink that had a strange effect. I told him everything I endured and to my surprise I found myself wanting to. It was like pouring all your troubles into a magical jar. Afterward, my head was fuzzy and filled with strange dreams, so I do not remember what I said. Nor do I know what truly happened and what I dreamed.”
“So the wizard put something in your drink. This gets even better. Quite the tale.”
“Everything Rosalind has told you is true,” Lucinda said. “The drink I had was not as potent, or perhaps it did not affect me in the same way, for I do happen to remember what you said at the time. You did not mention anything about any of us here, but your uncle could have questioned you later for it was he who took you home.”
“So these men know all about us?” Maud said, fear and horror etched on her pale oval face.
“I do not know what they know exactly. All I know is that Rosalind’s brother and uncle want to find this rapist as much as we do. They only desire to delve into difficult matters in the pursuit of that aim. Has anyone else been approached or questioned?” She was met by a line of shaking heads. “Well then, if they were going to do it, they would have sought you out by now. Most likely they have the information they need from Rosalind already and will bring the scoundrel to justice as we all wish. I will speak to her brother this afternoon and demand to know what is going on.”
“They are courting now you know, my brother and Lucinda,” Rosalind added with a coy smile. Lucinda’s face bloomed red as a poppy.
“Oh ho!” Moll let out a roar and slapped her thigh. “You and McCrae? That handsome Scot with the devil of a twinkle in his eye?” So much for secrets being well guarded among them.
“That sounds like my Robbie,” Rosalind said.
“It is not a real courtship,” Lucinda blurted out. “Tis only so we could go about together hunting for this man without drawing the wrong sort of attention.”
”Is that true? It is all a sham? I thought you two were in love.” Rosalind looked as if she had been struck. Oh how she wished she had considered the effect of her careless words, but it was too late now to throw water on the hearth when the rafters were already on fire. She was so confused herself she didn’t know what to think. She had not laid eyes on Robert McCrae for days. Did this mean all his declarations were false? The courtship might be a sham, but their frenzied passion was not. She had not imagined the touch of his hands or dreamed up the taste of his lips, which made it all the more confusing that he had vanished out of sight.
“It is complicated,” Lucinda said, reluctant to pursue the conversation further. “Now, are we here to do some real fighting, or not?”
They kept a few rough straw mattresses at Whitefriars for the use of visiting fencers from other shires to sleep upon, and it was these spare mattresses Lucinda impressed into service. With the mattresses to cushion any fall they could hurl each other to the ground in relative safety, wrestle, roll, and rumble with impunity. When men had issues festering between them a bit of throwing and grappling did wonders to clear the air. It would seem women were not all that different, for once given the opportunity, they took to the task with gusto, venting their hurt and frustration by brutal but honest physical means. A head charge to the belly, a throw over the shoulder, a twist of an arm, or a kick to the legs caused far less damage in the long run than trying to wound each other with cruel words. Eventually they collapsed in a state of euphoric exhaustion, laughing and sorely out of breath. Many were bruised, but no one was battered. The straw mattresses, being the most sorely abused, had served their purpose well. Maud lay on her back, arms folded corpse-like across her body, rabbit-ear braids miraculously still coiled tightly atop her head.
“I love this place,” she said with a look that came close to rapture.
Annie sat up and raised her arm. “The Sisters of the Sword. Long may they continue the good fight!” They all joined forces in raising their arms in salute, palms touching together, heads defiantly uplifted, grievances forgiven if not forgotten, causing Lucinda’s heart to fizz and crackle with pride.
”Is it not typical of men,” Lizzie said. “We are the wronged and wounded; we set in motion this hunt for justice, then they hound us and try to take over. If only they would leave us alone to get on with it.”
Maud sprang up abruptly and sat back on her haunches, her expression of rapture giving way to a determined resolve. “So are we agreed we should all ignore them and keep on our own path? It is our fight, our right to seek vengeance.”
Lizzie turned to Rosalind, placing a tentative hand on her sleeve. “Forgive me for accusing you. I should like to try this truth drink myself to see if it brings some memory back.”
“I would like to try it too,” Maud said. “Do you think you could make a potion for us?”
“Hold on,” Lucinda cautioned. “I will ask Grandma what she knows. The man who made the brew has an extensive knowledge of alchemy and herbs. It may have been his own secret concoction and not possible for someone else to reproduce.”
“You will try though,” Moll said. “We know you love nothing better than a challenge.”
“And we all love nothing better than besting men who seek to get the better of us,” Annie said with a wink and a jiggle of her bosom while she topped up their ale. “Drink up ladies. A good tumble on the straw is a thirsty business.”
Who could argue against such a truth?
