By the time Lion had met up with his friends, Hummingbird Feather already had the torch in one hand, a girl on his free arm, and a broad grin. “You can carry the jar,” he had said cheerfully, and Lion had no sooner picked it up by one handle than Flower Necklace had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to seize the other.
He could only glare at his friend and try to ignore his laughter. Watched enviously by his fellow warriors, he could hardly complain if one of the most desired girls from the pleasure house chose to attach herself to him.
When he had first seen Flower Necklace, just a few months ago, he had been as attracted to her as she seemed to be to him. But he had been just back from his first campaign, where at his very first battle he had taken two captives, both of them unaided, and he had been the talk of the city. His head whirling with success and sacred mushrooms, how could he resist the skilful attentions of a trained courtesan?
Unfortunately, it had not ended there, and soon there had been messages smuggled out of the pleasure house, his name called out in the street, and too many chance meetings. It had all been too much. The cochineal that stained her lips and teeth now seemed too red, the indigo dye in her hair too dark, the ochre on her skin too pale, and the figure under the thin cotton of her blouse too full.
Eventually his old mentor Fire Serpent, the Master of Young Men at the House of Youth where he had done his training, had taken him to one side and reminded him that pleasure girls were there for all successful warriors, not just one, and taking one as a concubine was against the law. At that point Lion had decided he ought to say something to Flower Necklace, but somehow the right words had never come.
He turned to her now, as they drew level with the next doorway and the threatening song rang out again.
“Um... Flower Necklace, there’s something I’ve been meaning to...”
Before he could go on, however, the householder had appeared. He was a small, anxious-looking man with the tonsured hair of a labourer or a farmhand. He had a bowl full of watery gruel, although his hands were shaking so much that the stuff kept slopping out onto the earth floor of his house.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he muttered. “Take this, it’s all I’ve got.”
“A likely story!” As Hummingbird Feather shouldered his way to the front of the small crowd, his torch waved dangerously close to the wooden doorposts. The householder’s face, stained yellow by the flickering light, twisted in alarm.
“Look out! You’ll set the place alight!”
Hummingbird Feather glanced at the bowl, which had spilled most of its contents by now. “You can do better than that for the brave warriors who defend your city, can’t you?”
He aimed a kick at the wall beside him, driving his foot clean through the thin plaster. The girl on his arm gasped and giggled.
“Oh, I’m sorry, how clumsy of me. Now look, you’ve got a hole in your house!”
The little man backed away from the door. He looked as though he was about to burst into tears.
“That’s enough.” Lion thrust Flower Necklace away from him and stepped forward, to stand just in front of Hummingbird Feather. He held on to the jar with one hand.
“What do you mean?” The young man with the torch looked bemused. “Look, these people have to show us respect...”
Lion’s free hand moved to the knot in his cloak, shifting it a little on his right shoulder; by touching the orange cloth he reminded his friend who stood higher in the ranks of the warriors. “We asked him for a little of his porridge, Hummingbird Feather. That’s what he’s offered us. We’ll take it. It’s obviously all he’s worth.” He thrust the jar at the man in the house, who silently tipped the last few drops into it. “Now get back indoors and keep out of sight!” Lion advised him, before turning sharply on his heel and walking away.
The other young people stared wordlessly after him.
The procession had become more subdued by the time it reached the next house, the laughter, a little more forced. The crowd had split into two loose groups, one centred on Hummingbird Feather and his girl and the other on Lion and Flower Necklace. Flower Necklace kept cooing in Lion’s ear about how noble he had been at that last house, which did nothing to improve his mood.
“When I do, when I do, give me a little of your porridge. If you don’t give me some, I’ll break a hole in your house!”
This was a more imposing dwelling than the one before, with a newly whitewashed stone wall and a wide doorway opening into a courtyard. A brisk fire threw an unsteady light over the idols lining the walls and the domed sweat bath in the corner. Several people squatted close to the fire, where they could enjoy its warmth and help themselves to warm porridge from a large pot standing over it on a tripod.
Lion noticed that the people in the courtyard were of varying ages. The youngest were children just young enough to be wearing breechcloths under their short cloaks, while the man he took for the head of the household was a tall, vigorous-looking man whose bearing, as he rose and strode unhurriedly to the doorway, might well have been that of a former warrior.
The householder hailed them courteously with the traditional greeting: “You have come far, you are weary. Please rest and have something to eat.”
“That’s more like it!” Hummingbird Feather approached the doorway. “A big improvement on that last place!”
“Now,” the householder went on — and Lion noticed a slight catch in his voice, as though he was suddenly unsure of himself — “there’s just one small problem...”
“Oh, no, not again.” Lion groaned inwardly at the prospect of another confrontation.
The man’s tone was apologetic. “You see, my wife dropped the ladle and broke it. Now she’s gone indoors to look for a cup, but knowing her she’ll have broken all those, too. Stupid woman!” The last two words came out with surprising force. “Take my advice, lads,” he added, with a knowing look at Flower Necklace that made Lion wince. “Make sure you keep your wives in their place. Beat her on her wedding night and every night after that until she gets the message. It saves so much trouble in the long run!”
Lion avoided looking at the girl clinging to his arm. Glancing over the householder’s shoulder, he saw a small, stooped figure in a skirt and blouse emerge from indoors, carrying what looked like a cup. She shuffled towards the fire. None of the people seated around it moved, but she stepped diffidently between them before bending over the pot to dip the cup in it.
Lion gave a warning cough as she came over to the entrance, but nobody took any notice.
“Once they start answering you back, you know you’re in trouble,” the man went on. “And then you find things aren’t getting done. The household gods get dusty, the courtyard’s not swept, the turkeys aren’t fed, and they start breaking things, and the food’s not cooked properly — I have trouble keeping the stuff she prepares down sometimes!”
Lion was not sure whether “they” meant wives or turkeys, although in the householder’s view there did not seem to be much difference; but Hummingbird Feather seemed impressed. “Not to worry, sir. It sounds as if you have enough troubles, and we wouldn’t want to bother you. We’ll have our fill of porridge tonight anyway.” He turned away with an abrupt air of decision that defied anyone else to stay and insist on receiving their gift.
The small woman had reached the doorway. “Husband,” she whispered, “I found a cup.”
“About time, too.” He did not look at her but stretched out a hand to take it.
It never reached his lips, however.
Flower Necklace had been casting venomous glances at Hummingbird Feather’s back. Before Lion knew what she was doing, she suddenly detached herself from his side, stepped forward, snatched the cup from the householder’s hands, and tossed off the contents in one gulp. Then she pressed it back between the astonished man’s limp fingers, before turning and flashing a triumphant smile at her friends.