Unlikely, he told himself, but wasn't entirely assured. After all, these people were barbarians.
Macurdy savored the last of his pudding and laid down his spoon. Excellent, he told himself, especially considering that civilian distribution of everything, food in particular, had been disrupted by his foraging parties. The wine, the first he'd ever drank, had even been cool.
"Here's to the cook!" Jeremid said cheerfully, pushing back his chair.
"Here's what to the cook?" Macurdy countered. "We need to take a collection for her. And for the steward; he's probably the one who actually got the stuff."
"The locals will be glad to see us go," Tarlok grunted. "They're on edge. Been holding their breath, afraid we'll go on a rampage before we leave. You can almost smell it when you deal with them."
Macurdy turned his gaze to Jeremid. "I'm depending on our operations officer to see that no one does."
Jeremid grinned. "I've got ears out to here." He gestured, indicating something rabbit-like. "But it's unlikely. The whole army heard what you did, or supposedly did, in the Kormehri camp. Not that the Kormehri exaggerated." He laughed. "Not having been there, I get this picture of you buffaloing a whole damn company all by yourself, pulling guys off women by the hair, gutting the company commander and first sergeant, and marching the rest of them out to the battlefield bare-assed, then running them in circles till their balls dragged."
Tarlok snorted. "Ozman, I was there. Not that I did anything to help; I was scared spitless. And what you just said is a pretty good description. If I'd tried it, or you, or both of us together, they'd have torn us apart. And if we'd gone in with a company of guards, there'd have been a riot as bad as the damned battle."
"That's the secret," Macurdy said. "Do it alone. Grab guys and start yanking them around. They don't know what to do then; they think you must be more than you are."
Tarlok shook his head. "If it'd been me, they'd have carved me up like a solstice ox. Besides, I saw your sword when you…"
Melody had been watching and listening without taking part. Now, getting to her feet, she interrupted. Firmly. "That's it! Party's over! The good guest knows when to leave, and this is when. I'm taking my husband upstairs and scrub his back for him."
"Spear maiden…" Jeremid began, then thought better of it. "May it be a night to remember. Macurdy, I'm glad you finally got smart. You two belong together."
Melody left then, while Macurdy walked their guests to the front door and out onto the lawn, where he shook hands with the three of them: Jeremid, Tarlok, and the Teklan, Asperel, who'd felt a little out of place with these ex-rebel comrades. They waited without saying a lot, while their orderlies saddled and brought their horses. Then Macurdy watched them ride off in the dusk before going inside and up to his suite.
He'd half expected Melody to be waiting naked, but she fooled him. She'd undressed, but put on a robe found in a closet. And with the robe, a serious face.
"Did I tell you you're beautiful, spear maiden?" he asked quietly.
"No, but I knew it anyway. Pretty, at least."
"Did I tell you I've been looking forward to this?"
Her gaze was searching. "Have you really?"
He stepped to her, put his arms around her inside her robe, and pulling her close, kissed her, then kissed her again before stepping back.
"Take your clothes off, Macurdy," she said quietly. "Unless you'd rather I did it for you."
He took them off himself while she watched. When he was naked, she dropped her robe. "Do you know what, Macurdy?"
He stared. "What, Melody?" He'd have to stop calling her spear maiden, he decided. She was too beautiful.
"I'm nervous," she said quietly. "I can't believe it, but I'm nervous. And the bath is hot. Hot enough that I closed the flue from the stove."
He took her hand. "Then let's go try it out."
They walked into the small adjacent bath. The tub was tiled and half sunken, big enough for four or five to sit. The water wasn't as hot as he'd expected, but more than warm enough, given that it was Six-Month and the room warmed by the stove. They sat not across from each other, but side by side, and within seconds were kissing again, embracing, fondling. Without either suggesting it, they got to their feet and clambered dripping from the tub. Towels had been set out on a bench, and they dried hurriedly, then went into the bedroom.
Later they donned robes and stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked fields. Dusk had thickened into twilight, and twilight into night, with the crescent moon still well up in the west. There was a cushioned bench, and they sat down on it together, for some time simply holding hands, saying nothing. At length Melody turned and found him looking at her. "I love you, Macurdy," she murmured. "I really do. I have all along, but now it's different. You're a marvelous lover. I thought you'd probably be rough the first time, like a stallion, you're so damned big and strong. And that would have been fine. But you're not. You're thoughtful and loving, and you do the right thing at the right time. It was nicer than I'd ever imagined."
She leaned and kissed him. "This is going to last a long time," she murmured. They kissed some more, and her hand slipped inside his robe. A minute later they went back inside.
Private Olvi Kalister stood on the porch beside the front entrance, spear butted by his right foot, thoughts on what he imagined was going on inside. He had a wife back at North Fork, whom he hadn't seen now for-he didn't pay much attention to dates, but it seemed like a long time. A mosquito hummed beside his face, then touched down on his cheek, and absently he crushed it.
"Did you get him?" Private Malakum murmured.
"If I didn't, I scared shit out of him."
"I'll bet they're not paying any attention to mosquitoes upstairs."
"I've heard that mosquitoes don't bite Macurdy. Flies either, or cooties."
I'll bet right now they could bite his bobbing ass twenty at a time, Malakum told himself, and he'd never notice. "You hear all kinds of things," he said.
"I heard that when he went in and yanked the Kormehri around the other night, there was a ball of fire on the point of his saber."
Malakum said nothing; he tended to skepticism. On the other hand, Macurdy'd done some uncanny stuff, in front of people Malakum knew well.
The door opened between the two men, and Corporal Freck stepped out. "You guys thirsty?" he asked in a half whisper.
The sentries' attention sharpened. "What have you got in mind?"
The corporal chuckled. "A couple of us were snooping around the basement with a torch. Found a trapdoor in the floor, and went down in." He held out a small jug. "It's where they store their ale. We figured if the bigwigs could have a party, we ought to have one too. A little one, not enough to get drunk and in trouble. To celebrate the wedding. And the war being over without us getting killed; now there's a reason! This one's yours." He handed it to Malakum. "The stopper's out-didn't want it lying on the porch in the morning-but no one's drunk out of it yet. Just keep quiet, and bring the jug with you when you're relieved."
He went back in and closed the door softly behind him. Malakum took a swig, exhaled a forcible "Ah!" and handed the bottle to Olvi. "Good stuff," he said. "Strong."
Olvi drank and grunted. "Better than my Uncle Loth brews. Freck is all right, bringing us this." They continued passing it back and forth, and after a bit sat down on the top step, their spears lying beside them. Olvi had been part of Orthal's Company when Macurdy first turned up, and without exaggerating much, told stories about their commander. By the time the jug was empty, each man had relieved his bladder onto a shrub, and the moon had set.