A Chapter where Drustina finds herself with her back to the moral wall when confronted with some violent hyprocritical church-men.

The Angry Mermaid 48

Or.

Y Morforwyn Dicllon 48

Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan. The scullery maid.
Isaar. Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega. Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. Old Fisherman.
Mutas Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia King of Malta.
Alviar Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk Makurian general.
Fantu. Makurian Captain.
Irene Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon Byzantine Emperor.
Zano Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine Leader of the pirate nuns.

The Saxon Camp remained at Torun for the winter and, much to her frustration, Drustina experienced a second bitterly cold eastern winter kicking her heels.

Some weeks after the trial, the king and the archbishop paid their respects to Drustina’s winter camp before returning for Warsaw. After the frenzy of entertaining a royal visit, the camp settled down to weather out the winter frosts.

For the townsfolk of Torun, the camp proved something of a blessing. The extra 200 strong hands served to improve the town’s river facilities and during the depths of winter, when the waters were frozen and the river running low, they built a new stone quay. Building in stone was a rare skill to be found in those days and Drustina shared with Horus some extra skills in the craft. Even though by Egyptian standards, their masonry skills were rudimentary, compared with the peoples of the eastern plains of Northern Europe, Horus and Drustina seemed to be magicians working with stone. Builders from the town watched eagerly and learned quickly as the stones were hauled on ice-sledges from a distant quarry further up the frozen river Vistula.

The Saxon adventurers also proved to be welcome guests for the men had money to pay for their food and they had muscle to add to the town’s improvement. For the secular interests of the town, Drustina’s overwintering army actually proved to be a blessing.
As to the religious authorities however, there was an uneasy relationship. A new bishop had been appointed and he was proving to be a religious tyrant; a man with a proven reputation as a witch-burner. When stories emerged that Drustina was performing marriage ceremonies without including the rites of the church, the new bishop of Torun and his entourage of priests came visiting in force to raise objections. Drustina was only alerted to this when her classroom was disturbed by a veritable mob of holy men arriving at her camp fire clearing. As the cacophony increased Drustina recognised danger and she quickly despatched one of the boys from her class.

“Go now and fetch the men! They are by the bend where the river has scoured the old jetty foundations and flooded the land behind the jetty. Tell them I am outnumbered and the new wives are vulnerable. The rest of you children; girls and boys, wait outside at the rear of the tent. I know what these religious fanatics are capable of. They might try and burn us all inside the tent.”
Having ensured the children seemed reasonably safe Drustina turned finally to Tara.

“Watch my back. See that none of these visitors can sneak around through the tent and get behind me,”

Tara nodded as her eyes widened with fear. She had never faced danger the way her other sisters had. She held Drustina’s famous war bow in her hand but she had had little training with it.

The boy with the message slipped out through the rear flap of Drustina’s tent and sprinted away then the other children evacuated through the same rear opening as Drustina checked that her trusty dagger lay sheathed in her shoulder scabbard. Next she reached for her sword then stepped out through the front of her tent ready to meet the mob in the fireside space outside her tent. She recognised the Bishop as one of the more vociferous prosecutors from the trial, a truly bigoted bully and a witch-burner to boot. The man had recently been appointed in the shake-up of the church since Drustina’s exposure of the piracy ring. It had been a bad appointment for the man was a misogynist who resented the fact that it was a woman who had exposed the failings amongst his brother bishops in Gdan and Gdyn. He was secretly determined to somehow see her punished for having the temerity to confront and expose any failings in his church.

All the men from Drustina’s camp were further down river helping the townsfolk repair the jetty and reinforce some flood defences, so the Saxon camp was denuded of menfolk. Nobody had any inkling of any enmity between the temporary campers and the town’s-people. The bishop had done his research well and chosen his moment carefully. Drustina confronted the man whilst keeping her sword in her hand for she had recognised the confrontational mood of the churchmen. The bishop immediately challenged her drawn sword.

“Why do you brandish your weapon? We come in peace.”

“With fifty priests at your back,” Drustina sneered disbelievingly.

“They are to strengthen the argument.”

“Arguments need words and wit, not men and muscle.”

“So why do you come with your sword?”

“Excuse me Bishop; I have not come anywhere. I was here always, inside my own tent, minding my own affairs, teaching children to read, write and do numbers.”

“But you brandish a sword.”

“I am a woman. I have a right to protect myself. You are fifty men! What do you expect me to do?”

“You are a woman; women do not wear swords; that is, not normal women; besides, we are priests, men of peace.”

“You’re talking to The Lioness of Carthage Bishop. This woman has seen plenty of examples of your church’s so-called peace.”

The bishop rankled at the woman’s sheer arrogance to so much as criticize his church. He challenged her words.

“Such as?”

“Oh spare me bishop. How many innocent women have you burned at the stake?”

“They were witches.”

“Is that what you have come here for now. To charge me with witchcraft?”

“You have been marrying these excommunicated whores to Christian men. You have no authority to do that.”

“Oh. So who does?”

“Nobody. They are excommunicated pagans.”

Drustina realised she would have to tread carefully. She was alone facing fifty priests and there was no knowing what they wore under their cassocks. For the moment though, she could only prolong the arguments until she had back-up.

“I think you will find they are excommunicated, but they are not pagans; nor are they witches. That was established once and for all at the court presided over by the archbishop ... your boss, I might add.”

The bishop smirked confidently.

“The archbishop is not here now.”

“But his law is. Believe me Bishop, if you think you can arrest me or use some other such trumped up religious device to work your evil means then think again. This sword has tasted plenty of blood, yours will simply add to the mix of flavours if you think you can use force.”

“You would use force against me?” The Bishop gasped after realising the woman before him meant every word.

“I have used force countless times. Only force can face force. Believe me Bishop, I’m for real. I may not be able to defeat fifty priests but I can certainly ensure that one bishop will be counted amongst the price of my arrest or murder!”

So saying, Drustina flicked up her razor sharp Toledo blade and lodged the tip with pin-point accuracy against the Bishop’s epiglottis. The man swallowed with fear and the flutter of his Adam’s apple caused the sword to prick his throat. He felt the sharp pain and squealed.

“Ahh! You have attacked me!”

Drustina smiled and laughed hollowly as the bishop studied the blood on his finger where he had felt his throat. The sword still rested uncomfortably against the bishop’s fleshy jowls. She replied softly.

“If I had attacked you Bishop, your head would be at your feet now. I’m going to hold you here until my men return so if I were you I would not make any more sudden moves with your head and neck.”

The bishop smirked knowingly.

“And how will your men return?”

“When I heard the commotion of your arrival, I sent word. They will be here shortly.”

“Do you mean the boy that we caught trying to escape from the camp?”

Drustina felt her belly sag with fear but she maintained her posture of fearlessness. Her poise did not falter, nor did the sword slacken in her grip.

“What d’you mean, ‘trying to escape’? This camp is not a prison. My people are free to come and go.

“The boy was sneaking off to warn your thugs.”

“So where is he now?”

“He has been arrested.”

“Oh, by whom and by what authority?”

“The authority of this church. The holy church of Rome.”

“You mean your self-appointed authority. What authority is that? You will have to answer to the archbishop.”

“Oh I think not. It is winter now and travel from here to Warsaw is all but impossible. The river is frozen and roads are impassable. You will be long dead before the archbishop hears of this.”

Drustina felt a cold anger seeping into her bones. She spoke softly but the softness only lent more menace to her words.

“If you have harmed the boy, I will kill you here and now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. There are too many witnesses.”

Drustina twitched her sword a fraction and the point pricked ever so slightly deeper into the bishop’s throat. Drustina was getting nervous but she played what few cards she had left.

“I’m warning you Bishop! If the boy is harmed, you will die. Bring the boy here.”

“You don’t give the orders here. I do. The boy is arrested.” He blustered.

Drustina felt the bishops’ Adams’ apple jerk as the man swallowed fearfully and she realised the man was a coward and a bully.

The bishops’ cowardice gave her a hand that still had playable cards so she repeated her demand.

“Bring the boy here. I will see what harm has become him — No! Don’t move your head Bishop, for if I have to, this sword will cut it off. If the boy is harmed, you will answer to my sword. I am not afraid to die! Are you?”

The bishop motioned to the priests behind him and after some confusion, there was a disturbance in their number as a gigantic gorilla of man emerged with the bloodied boy held in his massive hands. The man was dressed as a priest but Drustina was hard pressed to believe such a huge brute could ever have obtained holy orders. The whimpering boy was covered in blood and his face was utterly unrecognisable from the beating he had received. His lower legs were broken below his knees and bent at appalling angles. The giant priest simply dragged him like a broken doll and the boy started screaming in pain. Drustina was shocked and sickened.

“My God Bishop! So this is your peace, the battering of children! What did the boy do to earn that beating?”

“He is your spy.”

Drustina shrugged dismissively.

“Firstly; what proof have you, and secondly that boy is close to death?”

She shrugged wearily as the injured boy now lay still and bleeding in the dirt at the giant’s feet. Then she looked about her before speaking again and spoke to the bishop with a sad resignation.

“Well; you cannot say I did not warn you. Every one of your vermin has heard my words. If the boy was harmed, you would answer to my sword.”

The Bishop shrieked with fear.

“But the boy is not harmed!”

Drustina scowled then glared at the bishop.

“The boy is covered in blood and looks close to death! His legs are broken for God’s sake! Whose blood is it that covers almost all his body?”

A guilty silence followed but Drustina realised if she dropped her guard the priests might become emboldened. She commanded the Bishop.

“Release the boy and let him come to my tent for treatment. We’ll have none of your brutal inquisitions here.”

The bishop lost his nerve but made a fatal flaw as he presumed that no woman would have the guts to wield a sword against so many secretly armed men. He twisted his neck and shouted.

“Take her brothers. Kill the witch!”

For Drustina there could be no other response. Her sword flashed once as it sliced neatly into the man’s porcine neck and severed his trachea. A look of shocked incomprehension filled the Bishop’s face as he realised he could not breath. As he fell to his knees, his twitching fingers tried to grasp at Drustina’s blade but the life was ebbing too quickly.

Drustina gave her wrist another expert twist then, as the sword flipped free, she stepped to her side, raised her arm; lined up the blade to square with the bishops’ neck and brought it down with a force that belied her femininity. The razor sharp blade, driven by an arm that still harboured a strength almost akin to that of a man, sliced downwards to complete its task. There was a sickening ‘zipping’ sound and the bishop’s head fell to the floor. Arterial blood spurted over Drustina’s face but she was expecting it and managed to avoid being blinded by the salty, scarlet shower. The bishop’s headless body collapsed at her feet and his hidden sword appeared from under his cassock.

Drustina bent down, cut the sword belt with her own blade and held up the Bishop’s hidden sword as she sneered at the crowd.

“So you came in peace did you? I’ll wager all of you are armed!!”

The accompanying gang of priests stared; horrified by the bloody apparition that now faced them. Drustina sensed that the other priests were too shocked to respond for they had not expected such a violent and sudden escalation. Feeling that the priests were temporarily ‘cowed’ with shock, Drustina turned towards the human gorilla who was still holding the boy down on the ground with his foot pressed on the boy’s neck.

“I said release the boy!”

The brute smirked and shifted his weight, ready to bring his massive foot down on the boys’ neck with crushing force. Drustina however, was faster than the giant had ever imagined. War and battle had sharpened her senses and she acted almost automatically before the giant priest could complete his brutal act of murder. Not for nothing was she known as the ‘Lioness of Carthage.’

She swapped her sword to her left hand as her right hand reached over her shoulder. In a flash, her dagger appeared from its shoulder scabbard as if by magic before it slammed deep into the gorilla’s massive chest. He was standing on one leg for he had raised the other to stamp down but instead, the man grunted as the force of the dagger took him backwards. The boy felt the pressure ease and he let out a wail of relief. Drustina shouted to him.

“Can you get up lad?”

For an answer the boy struggled slowly to try and rise to his knees but he could not do it, injury and pain from his broken legs had taken their toll on his battered young body. Drustina was sickened by the bruises and obvious deformity of the boy’s broken leg bones. She shouted through her tent and called another boy amongst the children gathered behind it.

“Alfred. Run to the men and bring them back to the camp! Away lad! Quickly now! Fetch the men. I’ll hold these killers here!”

The boy needed no second urging. He was an intelligent lad and that was why Drustina had been teaching these particular children letters. In a flash, the boy disappeared behind the tent and Drustina was left to face the gang of priests. As her pulse raced to fever pitch she screamed out her challenge.

“I may die but there’ll be plenty of you who’ll join me!”

She flexed her sword arm again as she prepared to die but instead, the crowd of men stood dumbfounded. None had expected such a bloody outcome and none of them were capable of facing such a violent and certain death. The priests stood paralysed with shock while Drustina’s manic stare encompassed them and her limbs trembled as the adrenaline coursed through her battle tempered sinews.

“Come on then you bastards! Take me, or face my army when they return. You will not catch the second boy he knows this camp like the back of his hand and he is forewarned.”

She stood panting as her anger sustained her preparation to die but no priests came forward to meet her. There was a sharp gasp of fear from the priests as an arrow whistled passed Drustina’s shoulder and thumped into the table that served as Drustina’s council chamber. Drustina had felt the wind as the arrow had almost grazed her ear and she span around to see Tara standing beside the tent flap with Drustina’s war bow in her shaking hand. Drustina's face greyed with fear as she anticipated being inadvertantly killed by her own sister.

“God save us all sister! If they don’t get me you bloody will.”

“Then stand aside. Let me get a clear shot.” Tara almost screeched with fear.

“No. Enough have died already.”

She turned to face the priests and raised a questioning eyebrow before repeating her challenge. The priests started to shuffle backwards nervously but it was still fully a minute before Drustina realised the job was done. By cutting off the ‘serpent’s head’ the rest of the episcopal snake was leaderless. The sudden violence and terrible acts had shocked the priests so much that they just stood there disbelievingly as the blood from the bishop’s neck slowly stopped squirting and the corpse stopped twitching. She sagged with relief then leant against her table to avert the dizziness that her fear was inviting.

The silence around her tent became deafening as wives who were recently nuns, backed slowly away; afraid to be implicated or associated with the bishop’s execution. The priests, once seemingly brave and determined provided the bishop led them, now began to disperse uncertainly. They had come to orchestrate a witch burning not the death of their leader. Few had seen an execution though many had witnessed witch burnings, usually instigated by their own accusations, and bringing excruciating death to women they deemed worthless. However, this ghastly incident had brought home to them the true consequences of their impetuosity and it left them frozen with indecision A bishop, their bishop; the ‘Bishop of Torun’ no less, had been executed before their very eyes and for no apparent reason save that of charging a supposed witch with stealing for herself, the power of the church to enable marriage.

Such was the misogyny and myopia of these holy men, they had utterly failed to recognise that another one of their number, a veritable brute under the bishop’s control and command, had almost battered a child to death. The boy had recovered consciousness and was now whimpering at Drustina’s feet. She looked down but still did not relax her guard; instead she motioned to some of the girls who had approached from behind the tent. As the boy was carried in agony towards the tent, the pain defeated him and he fainted again as he lay crumpled in the sheet the girls had used to carry him. Drustina looked down at the broken form and wondered if the poor kid would ever walk again. She shuddered as she looked up with revulsion written all over her face before speaking one last time at the priests.

“If this child dies, I will hunt every one of you down like beasts of the forest. Be it known now as I argued in the archbishop’s court. A woman; especially a mother, will die to protect her child or even another’s child. She will also kill, if she can to protect those children. That is her god-given right and duty!
Though I am part man and part woman, I hold my womanhood as dear as my manhood. That womanhood gives me the right as a woman and a mother to kill to protect children. I have exercised that right here today but I am still prepared to die for the boy’s right to live. If I have to go to my maker then I will go with a clearer conscience than many of you! Are any of you prepared to face my sword and meet with god to be judged?”

There was a murmur of uncertainty from the crowd and it might have grown into a growl but for the belated arrival of Drustina’s men. Carl arrived first with Eric in hot pursuit to find him demanding to know what had happened. Carl was staring stupidly at the decapitated bishop and the splashed blood over Drustina’s face and clothes.

“What in God’s own name have you done girl?”

Drustina tensed then spoke softly.

“I have punished a child killer and its controller. Or at least a butcher who would have killed a child had I not intervened.”

“And who is that — that creature; my God it’s a veritable giant?” Carl stared at the fallen mountain of a man who almost filled the gap between Drustina’s fireside and the breakfast table. Drustina explained.

“That was the beast that did the bishop’s bidding. Go and look at the boy in the tent. He needs a good bone-setter and doctor.”

Carl motioned to another man who was recognised by all of Drustina’s band as the best healer amongst them. Carl wanted to continue remonstrating with Drustina that they would lose their welcome but Drustina was weary of events. She slumped heavily against the table and her sword clattered to the floor. Drustina had fainted.

“Oh shit!” Carl cursed as he motioned to two of the arriving Saxons. “You two, carry her to her bed, she looks all in!”

By now many of the men had returned and the remaining priests realised the camp was not a good place for them to remain. They filtered away in nervous groups until the camp was empty of churchmen.

Eventually calm returned to the camp and Drustina recovered to find herself in bed with Tara sat beside her. The Bishop’s body had been despatched to the city with an explanation by Carl and Eric of events as they understood them. They also agreed to an inquiry if the townsfolk required one.

Strangely, they didn’t. The general, private consensus among the secular powers was that the town was better off without the new bishop although this was not generally an opinion expressed publically. Several sweet old widows had already been burned at his instigation and many people had been infuriated that their widowed mothers had been condemned and branded.

By dint of some clever political chicanery, the question in the council chamber was worded to debate whether the camp should be allowed to remain. The hidden agenda was of course how to circumvent the issue of dealing with the Bishop’s execution. The vote turned out to be almost unanimous for the winter camp to remain. The Saxon’s muscle power in repairing the failed stone quay had proven to be a boon to the town’s trading status and it was too good an opportunity to miss. The band had further reinforced their welcome by building a small ‘stone-faced’ dock set back into the bank of the river to ensure safer docking for ships stopping at the city.

Drustina avoided any further issues by voluntarily restricting herself to the camp and quayside whilst not going abroad in the town.

When the spring thaw eventually released the ships from the River Vistula’s icy grip, Drustina’s band made their farewells amidst much regret and fondness. The city of Torun had gained a new quay and shed a detested bishop.

Few were happier to be departing the country than the nuns now become wives of Drustina’s comrades. One of those few was Drustina. At last she was back on the sea where she felt most at ease; open waters with far horizons.