I see little of the other three who are usually on duty and with whom generally we do not even eat. Even when they bring home girls they only disappear with them into their shut-beds. I have seen such beds in the houses of the wealthier peasants, they obviate the need for a separate bedroom, but these are carved, and wide. The young leaders are quite ordinary young men, not even particularly pleasant, though perhaps I’d see a nicer side of their personalities if they thought me more than Smahil’s strumpet. Occasionally it happens that one of them is off duty while Smahil is away, though mostly I am alone all day; the army is working its officers and men hard. And when they are off duty, it’s unusual for them to do anything but stay in their billet. But once when I was playing chess with Anad—I thought he was playing very off-handcdly —he suddenly seized my hand as I was making a move, and dragged me across the board; the men clattered to the floor and rolled. “AJ1 right, little Queen,” he said wittily. He gripped me as I lay on the board and kissed me.

“Anad!” I said angrily. “Stop this at once!” and I hit the side of his head as hard as I could with the flat of my hand. I was surprised when I didn’t hear his ears ring. Before anything else could develop, Smahil walked in, stripping off his cloak. He saw the situation, bounded at Anad and buffeted him back and forwards across the head. Anad stood for it at first, then decided he wouldn’t, and with a roar kicked Smahil’s feet from the floor. They rolled over together cursing curses unfit for a lady’s ears. I threw a bowl of water over them, withered flowers and all; Smahil rose and marched me off to bed, and nothing untoward has happened since. Besides, I think they all realize by now that I am a very nice girl, which I am when nothing’s bothering me.

Smahil hires the inn-woman to bring up meals, she is an indifferent cook and will sniff haughtily at me. Also, the things are usually cold after being brought up all those stairs, and the cutlery and plates are dirty.

Sometimes nowadays he takes me out to a nearby tavern. We sit in an alcove sticky and smelly with lamp-smoke, and Smahil keeps up a sneering patter with me and glares at any man who looks at me. These visits are only possible since he bought me some clothes. “These are rather squalid outings,” I remark calmly one day, more in sympathy than in rancour. Immediately he snarls sneeringly at me. “Regretting the days of your kitchen-sloven innocence, sliming yourself in grease to prevent our beloved fighting monster, getting food-poisoning?

Or some such thing. “Talking of food-poisoning—” I said hotly one day.