Responsibility

Author's Note: I'm going to be honest. I don't understand physics nor most weapons. I don't even understand medicine. If I made a mistake, then I apologize.

***

The most cared for maiden, Princess Rahela, formerly a queen in her own right, she was now sleeping on her metaphorical deathbed. It was only a camping pallet, but that wasn't important. The medic was kneeling on a straw-filled cushion beside her, his fingertips on her wrist, noting her pulse. His assistants stood by, cleaning and putting away several instruments. Their faces pale and perhaps tinted with green, the maids-in-waiting were nervously whispering to each other some distance away.

The Princess had heavy gauze and bandages on on her shoulder and neck, and she was sickeningly white. Aside from that, she had a tranquil appearance, a sleeping little damsel.

Near the medic, there was a thin package of wrapped linen. He picked it up and got to his feet. Then he gave the maids-in-waiting instructions on how to care for the Princess once she woke up. One of the assistants left behind a box of tonics, bandages, ointments, and honey, so that the Princess would have them.

The medic left the maidens' tent and went over to the Emperor's tent. Before he passed through, he heard the Emperor's voice. "I wish he could've been found. He must've been quite skilled to pierce the target at night. Much could be learned from him." The statement wasn't surprising.

Inside the tent, after he properly introduced himself, the medic told the Emperor there was something terribly sensitive to discuss. Not even the squires should hear it, not even the page, not even the old war dog.

Shortly after that, when the Emperor assured the medic that they were alone, he unwrapped his linen package to reveal the arrow that had pierced the Princess.

"The arrowhead here isn't metal," explained the medic. "It's made of stone, and it had broken on impact." He had to carefully pick out and rinse away quite a few lost pieces. He also had to make sure the poor girl's bones hadn't been horribly damaged.

"Why would anyone make such a poor quality arrow?" The Emperor thought aloud as he folded his arms.

"One," the medic said "to make it more difficult for the wound to be cleaned, although that leaves a risk of making a poor wound. Two, to force something inside the arrowhead enter the victim's body." He showed the Emperor some of the stone's interior. "It's a very porous stone. It could've held more liquid inside the arrowhead than outside, and I see some odd stains there."

Raising an eyebrow, the Emperor said, "It would've been simpler and easier to dip a normal arrowhead's tip in poison."

"It's possible that the archer wanted to the poison to overflow," the medic said, "to have every chance possible of killing the victim. It's also possible that, whatever the reason, this was the best poison the archer had access to, and this was the best method for such a poison. Some things are harmless in small doses but deadly when used in excess."

"It's also possible," the Emperor said, "that the archer was a fool, which means he wouldn't be very useful at all." Then he groaned and covered his closing eyes with one of his hands. His lips curled in a heart wrenching way, his teeth seeming quite feral. His head tilted back, then pointed down.

The Emperor spoke again, softly, through his teeth. "She's dying. She hasn't married me yet, and she's dying."

"That's my highest concern, Your Majesty." The medic wrapped the arrow back up. "She's not."

The Emperor's fingers opened and he looked down at the medic with hard eyes. "Explain."

"I don't know how to explain it." The medic shrugged. "She's showing no signs of being poisoned. It's as if her body refuses to acknowledge its presence."

The Emperor dropped his hand. Both arms then hung as if they had no more use.

The two men only stared at each other for a long time.

***

"Guh-g-good morning."

That was Yana. She'd just handed Rahela a small wooden cup full of a bitter smelling liquid the color of rust. It was apparently a tonic for encouraging healing or minimizing pain. Before drinking it, Rahela gave it a few sniffs. It tasted bitter too.

Rahela was sitting up on her pallet, hadn't even gotten dressed yet. The air didn't just look like early morning. It sounded and felt like it too. Last night had deteriorated in her weak mind, but she understood enough to know the sequence of events.

The Emperor had gotten impish with her. She'd stormed out. Then some assassin, a person she might never see, took the opportunity as he hid in the woods. He'd aimed, loosed, and got her. She almost wanted to compliment the mysterious assassin.

Once Rahela had taken all the medicine, her maids-in-waiting helped her get up. Yana had the most obviously false cheer as she held out gown after gown for Rahela's approval, as if she was playing dress up games with the most beautiful maiden in the world. Rahela humored her with a gentle smile, pretending to be vain.

Oksana's words and tone were more subtle, but there was no hiding her intentions. When she combed Rahela's hair, Oksana was unusually meticulous and slow. When she was done styling the hair, it was similar to last night, braids with single ribbons and ribbon cases. Although the ribbons were a cheerful, pale pink color this time.

When Rahela was fully dressed, the girls complimented her over and over. So elegant! So pretty! A beautiful maiden that any man would fight for!

The laces in her gown were on the sides, under the arms. Her slim waist was so perfectly accentuated. Such a dazzling style.

They even tied a fillet of woven white ribbons on her head.

How charming, they said! How pretty! Every bit as refined as a fillet of gold!

One of the squires had apparently walked up to their tent, because they soon heard his voice. "Your Highness? His Imperial Majesty has personally inspected your breakfast today, and he's added portions from his own supply of eggs, cheese, nuts, and butter."

After Rahela said she was ready to let the men in to arrange the tables and serve the food, she found that they were carrying an unusual amount. There was enough food to fill each girl's belly twice. They all gave it an honest try, but they couldn't eat everything. The leftovers were sent off to the Emperor, or that's what the maidens were told.

They let their bodies adjust to the fullness. Then they went off for a slow walk in the campsite. Yana held Rahela's hand as if she was afraid her Mistress would trip and hurt herself. Rahela didn't feel faint, however. There was some minor pain at the wound but that was all.

Whenever Rahela noticed a soldier looking at her, she'd typically find inklings of sympathy, perhaps even more than that. She imagined it couldn't be helped. In her mind, it was part of a man's nature to dislike the idea of a woman being injured, especially when the injury was caused by evil intentions.

Rahela didn't know what emotion to display, so she kept herself impassive. They happened to pass by Borys at one moment, who was walking Hrist. It was then that Rahela found herself covering an almost unconscious start of a grin.

The boy's red hair was messy, and he had a few leaves and dirt stains on his clothes. Hrist might've overwhelmed him some time ago. His cheeks flushed and he stopped to bow to Rahela, waiting for them to move on before continuing with the dog.

Eventually, they happened to pass the Emperor himself, who was having an arm wrestling session with General Anisim. The General wasn't a short man, and definitely not slim, but when compared to the Emperor he seemed much smaller. Despite that fact, he seemed to be doing well enough, or well enough to not have his arm wrenched from its socket. His face was terribly red, though.

The maidens stopped in their tracks to watch the outcome. The Emperor soon had the General's hand on the table. He'd won. The General congratulated him as he wiped sweat off his face. Also wiping his, the Emperor smiled and turned to look at the maidens. He almost seemed as ordinary as the rest of the soldiers. That's how casual and unassuming his clothing was. If Rahela hadn't known who he was, she'd have thought he was one of the men she'd walked by, the ones with sympathy in their eyes.

"My Betrothed bears a lovely cultivation today," the Emperor said as he walked closer. Rahela couldn't smell any sweetness from him.

Bowing with her maids-in-waiting, Rahela said, "I won't allow such beautiful words to nurture conceitedness." Especially since her unsightly bandages were visible.

Ignoring that statement, the Emperor made a gesture in a certain direction. "Are you walking back to your tent? After I rinse the sweat off my skin, I'd love to visit you."

Rahela laid a palm over her bosom and said she'd appreciate such a visit. Then she told her maids to follow her back to the tent.

Along the way, she tried to metaphorically stomp down the repeating memory of that man's lips against hers. Her jaw tightened, her teeth locked. Her hands met and twisted each other.

Inside their tent, the maidens moved a few things around. Then they waited, spending the extra time on sewing. Rahela put her work away when the Emperor finally did arrive. He had a fresh tunic on; it reached halfway down his calves and it was the color of a praying mantis. There was a set of cheerful yellow borders on the neckline, cuffs, and hem. His trio of boys weren't as nicely dressed, but Borys looked much cleaner than the last time Rahela had seen him.

The squires went over to the maids-in-waiting to ask about playing a board game that required four players. One of those older boys had been carrying the game in a box, and he was the one to prepare the game on a table. The other squire carried the extra chairs into the space. While this went on, Rahela decided to distract herself, and hopefully the Emperor too, by leaning down just enough and talking to Borys.

"You're a pleasant looking child, and you're very devoted to your Master," she said to the mildly embarrassed boy. "You must come from a very noble and dignified family."

She heard one of the other boys snigger. Then she heard Oksana ask, "What's amused you?" He didn't answer her.

Borys' lips parted, but before he even said a quarter of a word, the Emperor patted his shoulder with his fingertips and gave his own remark.

"He's been a fine page. He'll be a finer squire, and an excellent man."

At the Emperor's words, Borys turned so pink and uncertain that Rahela almost worried he might've been ill. He tapped the thin floor with the toes of one shoe. He thinned out his lips and looked down at that floor. His fingers hooked together at his abdomen.

Rahela put on one of her easier, gentler smiles, the kind she wanted to show. Then she asked the Emperor, "Is he close to his promotion?"

"He is," replied the man, "but for now he's still a little one." He tapped the boy's shoulder again. "Boy, find a table and some chairs. We should play a card game. It will be fine practice for your brain. Nobody should be raised not to think."

The page hurried to comply, leaving the two to almost seem alone. They obviously weren't. The other girls and boys were nearby, half of their attention to their board game and the other half watching their Master and Mistress. Rahela was relieved to see that the Emperor kept his distance, and although he was smiling he didn't seem to have any scandalous intentions.

He asked her a few things. How are you healing? Are you in any pain? Has your appetite suffered? They were very normal, basic questions. Rahela had no difficulties answering them.

Borys returned soon with three chairs and a table. The Emperor took his deck of cards from his pouch and the trio were soon playing a game together. Rahela showed Borys some mercy in the game, but she wouldn't do the same for the Emperor. In fact, she almost beat him. Then another game was set up with different rules. Rahela showed much less mercy to the boy that time.

Civilized behavior. Nothing crass. Nothing affectionate.

Rahela was pleased with this. This was a great thing, a wonderful sign for her future marriage. Between royalty and nobility, marriage was often one's most important business transaction, a career move. There wasn't any room for silly, common people's feelings.

When the card game was over, and the board game was finished, the maids-in-waiting offered to show off some dancing and singing. Yana, dancing. Oksana, singing. That made sense. Yana's tall body was surprisingly elegant when she focused and Oksana's voice was much more steady. One of the squires offered to be her partner for a couple's dance. The other people watched very politely.

Once the maid and squire were finished dancing, Yana bowed to Rahela and offered to teach her some of the movements. Ordinarily, a maid would be taught by the mistress, but this was a cultural issue. Rahela could dance adequately, or she believed she could, but she didn't know any Yahsin dances. Eventually, she'd have to dance at the Yahsin Imperial Court, and this was a fine opportunity as ever to get an early start with learning.

Dining tables were eventually carried in, and lunch was served. The girls went back to their Mistress and the boys went to their Master. It was much like the activities from before. Civilized. It was as if everything was catered to Rahela's tastes.

When lunch was finished and everything had been put away, the Emperor announced that he was going to take his squires and page off to give them lessons in war strategy. He had the boys exit the tent first. Rahela walked up to the Emperor to give a typical, polite bow.

Then, right in front of the maids ...

Quick about it ...

He reached down to grip one of her braids!

He gave two short tugs. Then he left.

Rahela wanted to vomit.

One of her eyes twitched and winked. Her fingers turned pink both from mortification and the physical pressure they exerted on each other. When she straightened her back and turned around, she saw that her maids-in-waiting had fallen jaws and hurt feelings in their eyes.

Oksana was the first to approach Rahela. "Why would he do such a thing?" She put a hand on Rahela's shoulder and walked her over to a stool. "Has he spent too much time with unruly soldiers? Has he forgotten how to respect a maiden?"

Yana looked down and shook her head. Then she made a disappointed exhale. It was if she'd just learned that her favorite childhood story was written by a murderer. She puttered about the area, straightening some things, opening up a pallet to fluff it up even though it wasn't time to sleep, pointless tasks.

Oksana spent the time patting Rahela's hand, giving her comforting words.

"The first time it happened," Oksana said, "I assumed he had a lapse in judgment, that he'd forgotten his manners because he thought were so beautiful, but this time it's plain. He's not trying to control himself. I pity you so, Your Highness, but don't lose all hope for a good marriage. You'll be a prudent, intelligent wife. You'll influence him well. I know so." She looked over to Yana. "Tell her. Tell her, Yana."

Folding a pallet back up, Yana gradually said something about how the tent didn't smell as clean as it normally did. Then she opened up her own chest of clothing and starting shaking one of her chemises in the air as if she thought there were bits of dirt and bugs clinging to the fabric.

Oksana shrugged and started removing the cases from Rahela's hair. "I'll comb any disagreeable thoughts away, Your Highness. Trust yourself. You'll tame the absurdity out of that man with your shrewdness."

Rahela didn't think her hair needed to be combed, but there wouldn't be any harm in it. In fact, she sighed and said, "I'd like to have my hair washed."

"Oh!" Oksana had been pulling one of the braided ribbons away. Her fingers paused in the air. "You could use the lovely hair soap His Majesty purchased for you."

Rahela thought that might only irritate her even more, but she didn't argue.

***

The group had to go on to the next country for a few days. Nothing of major importance happened there. Perhaps because of her ugly injury and bandages, the Emperor did nothing more to Rahela than give her some confident and mischievous expressions and periodically squeezing or pulling on her hair. That was still detestable, but she didn't know how to stop it.

The married women in this country usually had a different style of head-rail or veil. The hair would be braided up and away. A veil would be pinned over the head, its length not quite reaching the woman's shoulders. Extra support would be given by a fillet, often woven. Since there was no cap or headscarf underneath the main veil the hair around the face might be seen on occasion.

Whenever Rahela was allowed to go out in public, she wore this style of head-rail. Her maids seemed to think it was a charming if daring way to cover one's head. Apparently, a married Yahsin woman would cover all of her hair. When Rahela told them that a married Testoan woman, particularly if she was wealthy, would let her long plaits hang over her shoulders even with cloth covering her head, the girls' eyes popped and they stared at each other.

It seemed that married Yahsin women were expected to be more modest, but Rahela wasn't very concerned about it at that time. Trends change, and she had the Emperor's support.

Rahela was watched and protected much more often than before. The assassination attempt couldn't be forgotten. The evidence on her was undeniable. Some of the soldiers seemed to be earnest, not only watching her because they were ordered to. Oh no! Some gave her brotherly or even fatherly smiles. Some volunteered for the opportunity to help watch her. Some made a point to respectfully speak to her whenever they were allowed, trying to assure her that she was safe and there was no need to be frightened.

Rahela assumed her youth and small frame fueled their protective instincts, not much unlike the feelings one typically held when interacting with a darling child. When those feelings combined with a man's typical instinct to protect women and girls, it was often a very potent force. Rahela felt grateful to these men, and perhaps to men in a more general sense. Not all men were this way, but thanks to most men, she didn't have to has as much fear from those outliers.

The next trip to the next country was unusually fast. In that place, the popular style for a married woman was to have a snug wimple covering the throat and head, along with a veil draping the shoulders, complete with scalloped edges. No hair was visible.

When Rahela and her maids visited the closest bathhouse, extra men had been told to patrol the area around the building, and a few stayed near the entrances to the women's section. The employees and owner of the establishment tried to protest, but some extra coins and firm words were given by one of the Emperor's squires. It wasn't outright stated that Rahela was the princess of Testoa and the betrothed of the Yahsin Emperor, but it was stated that if any of these men misbehaved in this bathhouse, then there would be fine compensation.

Then, some days later, off to the next country. Another fashionable style of head covering for married women. A small toque hat with smooth chin straps. The veil underneath would be knotted and pinned on top so that the draping fabric would make pleasing folds and curves. It didn't do much to hide the toque at all. Most of the women kept the hair hidden but some braver ones would let some braids curl out on the sides of their heads.

The Emperor had even given the maids two new gowns each because the sleeves were also a bit different among the locals, a slight bag style with cuffs at the wrists. The women had to hurry to make the gowns fit their bodies well, especially for dear Yana. Someone had overshot the size required for Yana's tall frame, which was probably a fair thing to do. It was easier to take away or hem up fabric than to add more. Rahela wondered about the random women that had gladly sold some of their clothing away to these foreign men.