Rebuilding After Ruin

How anyone could sleep when there were a hundred people in the same room snoring baffled Sir Danielle Longbow. On a hard granite floor cushioned only by straw and rags she lay next to Lupita Smith, with Nettle lying between them.

            Night after night that had been the way. The castle was full to the brim with the people of Leonor whose homes had been destroyed by pillaging invaders.

            Nettle nuzzled into Lupita’s arms. The young girl, just four, was always asking when they would find her mother. No one had answers for her. No one had heard from her mother. People Nettle had known were also missing, presumed dead. Flames had consumed the bodies of many in the west of the city.

            Using her arm for a pillow, Danielle tried to sleep once more. Her movement disturbed the woman lying next to her, who nudged back.

            “Sorry,” she whispered.

Danielle’s enormous arms bulged as she carried a wheelbarrow of enormous bricks from the mine outside the walls, through the southern gate. A trail of others doing the same stretched before her and after. Other wheelbarrows were stacked with half as many of the mighty bricks for the wall and yet the bearers huffed and puffed.

            First to be repaired was the wall of Leonor City, destroyed by cannon fire. Those same cannons had been captured and sat atop the wall elsewhere. Working day and night, the wall was as good as new in little over a week.

            New buildings sprung up where the rubble of ruins had been cleared away. Every new building was granite by order of the newly coronated Queen Elspeth. Nothing that could burn was allowed outside. Metal shutters instead of wood were being forged to cover the windows. The city itself was being rebuilt as a fortress.

            She brought wheelbarrow load after load to what were towers side by side. Many had no windows on ground level.

            Still, she slept on the castle floor as it emptied out. Families that were given new homes in the five storey high towers slept on beds being rushed out by carpenters throughout the city.

Their new home was empty. Three grey rooms and steel shutters over the windows. Danielle thought it felt more like a dungeon. They were given beds and the nails to put them together. That was that. They heard every footstep of the family that lived above them. She imagined it was the same for the family that lived below.

            Their possessions sat in piles. All the adults had armour, a shield and sword. Danielle had a bow and arrows, though she had lost her own in battle. Her father’s shield had been returned to her again as it always was. It bore the scars of crossbow bolts and the tiny pellets from fire lances.

            Nettle had nothing. No family that could be found. No possessions but the rags she had been wearing when Danielle and Anne found her. During the day the young girl worked with weavers that were creating uniforms for new soldiers.

            Everything about Leonor revolved around war. Everyone lived as if other battles were inevitable. A weight in Danielle’s stomach hoped they were wrong, but she saw the sense in preparation.

            For some reason migrants were still flocking to Leonor from the south. Accents no one had heard before were becoming common.

Soaking in the public bath showed off her many scars. Danielle had grown used to eyes upon her.

            “You’re tall,” many said.

            “I know,” she would reply, smiling less every time.

            “What happened to your back?” asked foreigners who had not seen her whipped publicly. Of all the questions asked of her naked body by other women she liked the effect it had on women of Leonor who had cheered as she was lashed. They always turned away, knowing very well how she had come by the cruel mesh of scars that covered her from neck to ankle.

            “What does it feel like to be shot?” Nettle asked one evening, poking at the burn mark on Danielle’s left shoulder.

            “Sore.”

            “How many imperials have you killed?” asked the girl.

            “Enough to survive,” said Sir Longbow. She looked away from the blonde women of the Royal Coven who had come from imperial lands, fleeing fear of witchcraft.

            “Will you kill more?”

            “Only if I have to.” She looked at the four-year-old, who was growing rapidly. “Please don’t talk about things like that. Many imperials have come here now to escape the empire. It is not a person’s fault where they were born.” There were groans from other women around her that were less forgiving.

            “Say that if you like,” said a woman who looked too young for her grey hair, “I’ll never trust them.” With that said, the woman left the bath, glowering at the blue-eyed blondes sitting together.

            Everyone watched the woman go, saying nothing until she was out of earshot.

            “Thank you,” said one of the witches. “In the holy lands we are killed for what we are with as much hatred as any the emperor’s soldiers attack. Leonor grows strong by welcoming people from all over the world.” Another yellow haired girl beside her nodded, looking at her feet.

Standing on the city wall, the chasm of the mine to the west drew her attention. Columns of workers brought out soil or stone. The thirty-foot-high wall of the city now sat near the edge of a ten-foot drop into the mine. Every day the mine was dug further into the ground, deepening the defences. The curaduile trees were no longer the first line of defence for the city.

            “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Anne asked. “They look like ants from up here.”

            “Whatever makes the city stronger,” Danielle turned around. The city behind them was no longer beneath the wall, but there was a wide gap between it and the new tower houses.

            “Thank you for having my back,” said Anne, repeating what she said from time to time.

            “How is your back?”

            “Lots of little bits of mettle in it but less scarring than yours.”

            “That doesn’t mean much anymore.”

            “What does Lupita think about it?” Anne removed her helmet, scratched the scalp beneath her short hair and shoved her helmet back on.

            “She always asks me not to get any more scars.”

            “She doesn’t like them then?” Danielle shrugged to the question, but Anne had another. “Can she get rid of the scars with magic?”

            “Probably, if I sacrifice a family member or a friend. She says magic has a cost. The Queen and a lot of soldiers had to give their lives for the curse that won the battle.”

            “It was worth it.”

            “Queen Elspeth probably wishes she was still a princess.”

            “Queen Malin was dying anyway. Her sacrifice saved us all, again.”

            “I saw lightning jump from Malin’s tower into the sky. I think that was the moment she died.”

            Anne’s eyebrows rose. “I only saw the inside of my eyelids while I was bleeding. At least little Nettle was looking after me. She sang me songs and told me I would be alright. She’s a brave little girl. It’s a shame about her mother.” Danielle nodded.

Lupita and Carl were grinning as they got home from the castle one evening. Lupita Smith wore her deep green Royal Coven robes. Carl wore his Crann tabard over leather armour because his body was too frail yet for the weight of steel.

            “Queen Elspeth just told us about the letter she sent to the emperor.” Lupita smiled. “Right after the battle. You have to hear this Danielle, it’s too good.”

            “Go on then,” Danielle said, looking up from the cooking pot in the fireplace.

            “Dear Emperor. Thank you for the delivery of cannons and fire lances. The cannons are magnificent atop our wall. I apologise for the bad news, but your men took ill on the point of Crann swords and will not return to your lands, ever. The armour and weapons your soldiers brought us are a generous gift but our armoury is still full of gifts from the last army you sent. In return for the many gifts you have given us, I give you this knife, made in Crann.

            That letter was left on the emperor’s pillow. While he slept.”

            “Who by?” Danielle asked.

            “Catherine Harper,” said carl, who then burnt his tongue sipping soup straight from the ladle.

            “Who is that?” Nettle asked, holding out a bowl for dinner.

            “An old friend,” said Lupita.

            “Except she’s not that old,” said Danielle.

            “And not that friendly,” said Carl.

            “She’s an assassin now,” Miss Smith said. “She kills people that threaten Crann. She also sends anyone she finds who has powerful magic to join the queen’s coven. Speaking of assassins, Queen Elspeth also said she’d invited the Church of Red Knives to Leonor.”

            “What?” Danielle spilt soup on herself and swore. Nettle giggled. “Why?”

            “More warriors in the city she says, the Grey Acolytes are excellent warriors, and the church is famed for feeding the masses. They might help bring food in from Sliabh.”

            “Like mother like daughter,” said Sir Longbow of the queen’s shrewd mother.

            “I want to be an assassin,” said nettle with a glow of wild imagination. The girl cut the air with her wooden spoon, dripping soup from her bowl onto the floor.

            “You’re not going to be an assassin,” said Lupita.

            “You’re too short,” said Carl, teasing her.

            “I’ll be tall,” shouted Nettle, “taller than Danielle!”

            The sound of something banging the boards beneath them said that Nettle was disturbing the neighbours. The girl sat in the corner of the room, scowling as she ate her soup.

Standing on the wall of the New Town was an odd feeling for Sir Longbow. Half was nothing but ploughed earth. Crops badly needed to replenish stocks were growing in the soil brought from the mine. The rest was the same towers as Old Town, only higher in places. There were no people to fill those houses yet, but the queen insisted there would be.

            Invitations had been sent off throughout a dozen kingdoms. Leonor promised them food, a home, and work. Little by little they came. They were not fleeing war but starvation or poverty. They came looking skeletal in rags. Little by little they were reborn, like the city.

            “Swords up!” Danielle shouted. She looked at all the children, but Nettle most of all. “If it’s pointing down, you’re not ready to parry or attack. Stop swinging them. Only stabs are effective against armour. When someone tries to stab you, knock their blade to the side, up or down. Then attack.”

            Nettle’s face had lost its puppy fat. It was lean. Her legs were growing longer by the moment it seemed. The long hair she had loved was shorn short.

            “Sir Fabian agreed to come and teach you next week. Do not embarrass me when he comes.”

“Sir Fabian is amazing,” said a girl with a ponytail by Nettle’s side. “I hope he 

marries me one day.”

Nettle gave pigtail girl a scornful glance. The sarcasm of her adoptive family seemed to have soaked into her bones. “Danielle, Sir Longbow I mean, is stronger,” she said. She was glaring at the pigtail girl.

            “Fabian Castel is better with a sword. And he’s handsome.” The other girl glowered at Nettle.

            “Danielle is better with a bow.”

            “Who cares about that?”

            Sir Longbow wished she hadn’t agreed to teach the children swordplay in the evenings that she didn’t have guard duty. The two girls began swinging their wooden swords at each other. Both forgot to stab, which was lucky. Shouting herself hoarse, she ended the lesson.

            “I don’t want to read.” Nettle folded her arms across her chest.

            “It’s not about whether you want to or not.” Lupita pulled her stool closer to the girl.

            “I can’t do it.”

            “You’ll never know until you try. I managed it.” Danielle tried to give an encouraging smile, but it was no use. She was told her fake smiles were terrifying. She kissed Lupita goodbye, happy to have guard duty that night.

Curaduile trees that hung over many buildings in Leonor bloomed with bright green or yellow catkins hanging from the branches. The bloom of the trees over the city started in March and continued until May. The beautiful sight was a reminder of the attack a year before.

            Families came out into the streets to sing songs about the battle. Remembering those lost, they hung their heads. Many wore their green Crann Kingdom tabards with the Crann Oak.

            Those who had come to the city after the battle brought food. Newcomers kept silent as survivors mourned together. The imperial soldiers who had defected to Crann before that battle chose to stay in their homes, wisely so in Danielle’s opinion.

            Stories were shared. Tears were shed. Everyone promised that the dead would live on in memory.