In this chapter, Drustina enforces a workable treaty between four competing tribes, namely Saxons, Friesians, Franks and Gauls. In so doing, she teaches the widowed Queen Dalcimon the rudimentary elements of diplomacy and how to play off male conceits against each other by dint of feminine charms and wiles.

The Angry Mermaid 64

Y Morforwyn Dicllon 64.

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.
Guthrun.... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline.... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese.... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda.... Taras’ mare.
Athun.... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn.... King Athuns’ Consort.
Iselda.... Athun and Brendigan, younger (middle) sister.
Heingist.... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.... Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn... The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.... Drustina’s twin children.
Dalcimon .... Queen of West Friesia.
Andrar .... Prince of West Friesia (Dalcimon’s son.)

Tha Angry Mermaid Chapter 64.

At Noon a few days later Drustina was up to her waist in the warm brown mud as the late spring sun beat down on her scarred back. They were putting the final touches to the quoins where the jetty wall bent at Right angles to provide the possible entrance to a future haven were an inlet fed into the main river. She heard Sister Catherine call down from the stonework above.

“You’d better get cleaned up Dru, Urthos has returned and he’s got a couple of Frankish emissaries from the King.”

Drustina called across the muddy pit to Eric and the two Joined Carl who was working on the footings to the town wall where a water-gate was planned. Like everybody engaged in the riverside stonework. The three of them were plastered in mud from head to toe. Lady Catherine being a somewhat older and frail lady was excused heavy duties but she still scurried about carrying messages and taking notes as and where required. She grinned as the three leaders emerged from the river bed.

“Are you going to meet the emissaries like that?”

“We might as well, Drustina chuckled. It’ll prove were actually doing something and not arguing or bickering. Where’s Queen Dalcimon?”

“She’s working with the stone loading on the beach. She should be coming up on the next loaded boat. It’ll be lunch time then.”

“Good ah there’s Urthos. I knew he wouldn’t stand on ceremony. Those must be the Frankish emissaries.”

Drustina waved and called Urthos’s name and he grinned as he recognised her voice.

“Good god Drustina, I wouldn’t have recognised you under that mud! I presume those other trolls are Eric and Carl.”

“Watchit brother,” Eric chuckled as Carl wiped some mud off his spattered face to reveal his bright blue eyes.

Urthos grinned and remarked.

“I’ll not shake hands if you don’t mind, that mud stinks!”

Drustina took a cloth that Catherine had offered and she wiped her face and hands enough to be recognised. Eventually she extended her slender but wiry hand to the emissaries.

“Greetings gentlemen. Sorry we had no time to prepare a reception celebration. This is how it is.”

“Are we addressing The Lioness of Carthage ma-am?”

“You are. Sorry about the mess.”

Both emissaries went on bended knee to offer homage but Drustina enlightened them.

“Please get to your feet gentlemen. We don’t wait on ceremony here.”

They stood and stared uncomprehending at the filthy figures before them. Drustina quickly explained.

“We have been working down in the mud to ensure the foundations to the Jetty Quoin are sound and properly established. Such work is essential to our town and its dock enduring.”

“I see,” one of the emissaries replied. “And you do this work yourself?”

“Who better? I built ships before taking up arms. Eric here was a mason and Carl was a builder before they took to journeying and venturing. We have had plenty of experience in this work. We have spent a lot more time building things than we have fighting with our swords.”

The second emissary smiled.

“Perhaps that is what makes your reputation my lady. A builder not a destroyer, a liberator, not a thief.”

Drustina frowned.

“I’m sorry; I don’t follow, what d’you mean by thief.”

“No your Majesty, I think you misheard I said NOT a thief.”

“Oh sorry, this mud gets everywhere including my ears. So gentlemen, might I request that my lieutenants and I get washed up before joining you and Dalcimon around the stump. It’s the nearest thing we have to a council chamber at the moment.”

“Indeed ma-am. Perhaps Urthos could give us a tour while you clean up.”

“Good idea.”

Drustina flashed a smile at Urthos who grinned.

“Another mile walking around the town won’t matter after the miles I’ve walked these past weeks. Blow the horn when you’re ready at the stump.”

The three leaders stumbled into the wash room where they scrubbed up without formality. Eric and Carl had seen Drustina naked many times and they had no issues with sharing the hot tub. They also guarded the entrance to the washroom to prevent any uninvited visitors learning of Drustina’s duality. After first rinsing off the mud Drustina clambered into the hot tub then once immersed, with her duality invisible, Eric and Carl joined her. She grinned as she washed the last remnants of mud from her long fair hair.

“This would make an excellent council meeting place. It’s difficult to be pompous and ceremonial when butt naked.”

Eric grinned back.

“Aye it would that. Can you scrub my back, I scratched it in the mud and it’s itching?”

Without even hesitating, Drustina took a handful of moss, wrapped it in some cotton cloth and fashioned a scrubber to clean his back. She was washing his back when Dalcimon entered unexpectedly.

“Oh my God! Sorry!”

Carl called to her.

“Oh don’t be silly girl. Urthos, Eric and I have all seen our queen naked. Can you tip that bucket of hot water into the tub? It’s getting cold in here.”

Dalcimon had become so attuned to the communal work ethic that she reached down and added the steaming water to the tub without even questioning Carl’s authority. Eric thanked her and then Drustina invited her to join them. Dalcimon hesitated but the dust and sand from the beach stones had invaded every pore of her sweating body. She quickly lost her inhibitions and joined them after Drustina suggested to Eric and Carl that Dalcimon was a little shy and it might be courteous to avert their gaze. Once submerged to her waist she recovered her composure and they chatted briefly as Dalcimon soon felt at ease. Drustina grinned and her womanly senses noted Eric’s glances towards the Frankish woman. Even Drustina noticed that Dalcimon, despite having a fifteen-year-old son and two younger daughters, was still an attractive woman. A thought struck her and she asked Dalcimon casually.

“How old where you when you married the Friesian king?”

Dalcimon hesitated.

“Why d’you ask.”

“I’m just curious; it’s good to know what customs your people have.”

“I was betrothed at aged twelve and married at fourteen, as soon as my womanhood arrived.”

“So that would make you what; thirty, thirty one?”

“No. I’m still twenty nine; I was still fourteen when I conceived Andrar, probably on my wedding night!”

“Mmmm.” Drustina looked thoughtful.

“You could marry again then and have more children.”

Dalcimon squinted suspiciously.

“Where’s this going Lioness?”

“Oh nothing.”

Carl smirked knowingly; he knew exactly what was fermenting in Drustina’s brain. He had even had a previous inkling because he and Eric had joked about Dalcimon’s attractiveness during their journeys to and from the Germanic kingdoms. Now here was Drustina intimating something not dissimilar.

Even as Carl’s sharp brain ticked, Drustina took the matter forward as she turned to Eric.

“How’s that cut on your back Eric? Is it still sore?”

“It still itches a bit Majesty but nothing I would worry about. D’you still have any of that stuff you brought from Egypt?”

“Yes, my sister Tara keeps it. Shall I get it?”

Eric smiled.

“Yeah that would be good.”

Drustina called to the attending woman and explained what she wanted. In less than ten minutes Tara was standing beside the tub. She was grinning knowingly but gave nothing away about Drustina’s duality. She handed her younger sibling the salve and said she’d return later. Drustina went to apply the salve to Eric’s broad, scarred back but suddenly Dalcimon intervened.

“Let me do that, please.”

Drustina’s expression gave nothing away but her plan seemed to be working. Eric got up on his knees and leant forward on the edge of the tub so all his back was visible right down to the cleft of his bum. Dalcimon shuffled forward on her knees and started to apply the salve to the irritated area. As she applied it she studied the myriad scars on his back.

“How came you by so many cuts?” She asked.

Eric was a little embarrassed so Drustina explained.

“All three of my lieutenants were once enslaved by the Barbary pirates. The Moors are not known for their mercy or gentleness. Many of those scars are from the bite of a Moorish whip.”

“But so many scars.” Dalcimon sighed. “They must have been brutes.”

“Yes indeed, but enough of this mothering. Besides, that salve is scarce. Are you still itching Eric?”

“Yes!”

Behind the engrossed pair, Drustina grinned at Carl who smirked back as Dalcimon continued rubbing Eric’s powerful muscles and unwittingly betraying an interest.

Eventually, Drustina gently levered the salve out of Dalcimon’s fingers then left her continuing her ‘administrations’. She spoke to Dalcimon.

“You understand your majesty; it is moments like these that bring me and my lieutenants the closeness that breeds the mutual support we enjoy in battle. Do you now count yourself one of us? To share our secrets, our fears and hopes.”

Dalcimon flushed with pride, partly to at last be counted equal and sharing in every intimacy, then partly with embarrassment as she realised she was butt naked in a hot tub with two other men and another woman. If she had ever been caught in such circumstances in Frankia, she would have possibly been beaten to death as some sort of jezebel. Certainly she would have lost her noble status.
They heard voices outside and Dalcimon started nervously but Carl called loudly.

“Who is it?”

“Sister Catherine. I’ve got your clean clothes.”

“Thanks Cathy, bring them in please.” Drustina replied. As Dalcimon turned nervously.

Her fears proved unfounded as Catherine entered without batting an eyelid.

“Oh hello Dalcimon. I’ll go and get you some clothes as well. Would you prefer a gown or britches like Drustina?”
Dalcimon had never worn britches before and her eyes widened at the very thought.

‘What the hell?’ She mused. ‘Why not?’

She nodded and Catherine departed to return in minutes with a pair of red velvet britches that Dalcimon immediately fell in love with.

“Whose are these?”

“Well they’re yours now. Don’t worry, they’ve never been worn. One of the trader’s wives is a seamstress and she made several pairs for Drustina. You are of similar size so they should fit you. Here; dry yourselves then get dressed, Urthos has finished guiding the emissaries on the tour. Hoek is hardly the seven hills of Rome, is it?”

Dalcimon was relieved when the four were offered towels that lent modesty as they emerged from the tub. Within minutes, she was seated behind Drustina and savouring the unusual freedom that britches gave her as she brushed Drustina’s spectacularly long hair. As she sat astride the bench with legs spread wide like a man she felt no thoughts of ‘immodesty’ about her bare breasts for Drustina sat the same way astride the log as they braided each other’s hair.

‘It cannot get free-er than this!’ Thought Dalcimon.

She caught Drustina smiling at her in the polished copper mirror.

“What? She demanded.

“This is the first time a woman has done my hair since Dane-mark. Thank you!”

“My pleasure. This was what we princesses did in Frankia all the time; primp ourselves and try to catch the men’s eyes.”

“So which is preferable, this or digging ditches?”

Dalcimon let out a squawk of laughter then became more thoughtful.

“Oh this is certainly pleasanter, but gathering the stones off the beach is more rewarding. I get a sense of achievement every time I look at the walls rising higher. We will soon have a defendable town here.”

Drustina nodded and grasped Dalcimon’s wrist gently to reinforce her next remark.

“Yes and don’t forget Dalcimon, it’s your town to defend; it’s your country to protect, it’s your queendom to keep. Don’t let men try to steal it from you!”

Dalcimon frowned.

“But how to stop them. Andrar is still young.”

Drustina smiled enigmatically.

“There are men who would cut off their hand to win yours.”

“Oh I’m sure there are ... and then steal my realm or more accurately steal control of my realm. I’ve learned a lot about men since I was fourteen.”

“They’re not all greedy for land and power my lady and under Friesian law, a queen can rule in her own right, she does not loose sovereignty when she marries. I’ve also got several philanthropists in my band.”

Dalcimon looked somewhat askance.

“Philanthropists; what, amongst your band!? Are they not all warriors and adventurers? I thought they were all seeking their fortunes; and that usually through the spoils of war.”

“Noooo,” Drustina replied softly. My lieutenants are my lieutenants because they have wit as well as muscle. Most ended up following my banner more by accident than design. Eric speaks four or five languages but I suppose you know that.”

“No, I’ve only heard him speaking Saxon and Latin.”

“Then you under-estimate him, he has Iberian and Moorish and a smattering of Danish. I wouldn’t be surprised if he speaks Frankish as well, or Friesian. He was born not far from here, somewhere on the borders of Saxony and Friesia.”

“I’ve never heard him use those other tongues.” Dalcimon replied.

Drustina grinned.

“Let’s be honest Dalcimon, you don’t hear Eric using any tongue very often. He’s a man of few words.”

“Well that’s true ... the strong silent type. He speaks to you though and quite openly.”

Drustina repeated what she’d said before.

“We go back a long way. I think I’m one of the few women he trusts. Carl thinks he took to venturing because of a failed love affair, some flighty young maid might have betrayed his affections. You’ll note he never married any of Sister Catherine’s nuns and he had plenty of opportunities.”

“Has he ever ... you know ... made a pass at you?”

Drustina did not respond immediately. Her duality had never been a secret amongst her lieutenants because they knew her as a boy before her duality really kicked in before she developed her unexpected maidenly form. For want of a better answer she simply wagged her head and replied.

“No. He never did, I suppose after I won their freedom they had too much respect and affection for me. I can say they have proved to be loyal and protective of me ever since their liberation.”

“Have you never fancied them?”

“No. I tend to see Eric, Carl and Urthos as comrades. I had a lover once, the father of my twins, but he chose to settle in the lands bordering the middle sea. He was a Celt, like me so I suppose that’s why I fell for him. Sadly our relationship didn’t last. Not everything I attempted proved successful. Matrimony proved a non-starter for me; sadly.
Anyway, enough of all this maudlin, we have a meeting with your countrymen. Let’s go and meet them. Your hair looks nice even if I say it myself.”

Dalcimon grinned and replied in like vein.

“So does yours. I wish I’d let mine grow like yours. Even when braided it’s half way down to your waist. It makes you look like the Goddess of the woodland, so thick and lustrous and pale, pale gold. Look, there’s a red rose blossom growing on that briar. Let me put it in your hair.”

Drustina watched as Dalcimon picked the rose blossom and threaded it cleverly into Drustina’s tresses. She smiled and gently ran her fingers through Drustina’s still damp hair.

“There, that looks better than any crown. Let’s go and knock those emissaries dead!”

They secured their tops then stepped out of the wash-room to find the man already seated in anticipation and they turned as one when Drustina emerged. None of her lieutenants had ever seen Drustina with her hair braided nor ever sporting a rose blossom. Carl’s eyes widened with surprise as he handed her a clumsy compliment.

“My God! So the Rose has finally blossomed. Well you do look pretty Dru.”

Drustina blushed, she had never received a compliment from her lieutenants before and she wasn’t sure if it somehow demeaned her; somehow implying that her appearance counted more than her wit. She dismissed his remark with a cautionary smile.

“Let’s not get carried away Carl. I’m here to discuss relations betwixt Franks, Friesians, Saxons and Gauls; not to mention the Viking threat.”

Drustina settled on her stump then called for Sister Catherine to bring some maps and charts. Soon she and her lieutenants were busy discussing alliances and treaties with the Franks. After an afternoon of earnest discussions she called a halt to the meeting.

“Well gentlemen, I feel we can go no further until the Saxons and Friesians are here in body and soul to discuss things more deeply. Shall we eat?”

The general consensus amongst the Frankish emissaries was that things had gone well except that they had felt uncomfortable in treating with Drustina, a woman. It was only because of her fearsome and proven reputation that they remained tied to the negotiating table. Their own Frankish had warned them.

“If she is truly the Lioness of Carthage, then treat her with kid gloves. Just remember, when she was just a child, she killed Harald Blueface in fair combat and he was reputedly a Norse giant!”

The following morning a fast messenger arrived from the Friesian king informing Carl and Eric that a combined deputation from Saxony and Friesia was on its way. Drustina smiled with Satisfaction at the news. As she made the letter public. The Frankish emissaries were now satisfied that events were moving forward and they elected to stay. Drustina offered them a limited degree of hospitality.

“You realise gentlemen that the Viking raiders laid almost everything to waste and there is not much food available. We depend heavily upon the good offices of the Danish traders for food but even their supplies are not inexhaustible, and we have to pay for it. The Danes do not exploit our shortages but we still have to pay a fair price.”

Drustina then went on to make a little white lie.

“Queen Dalcimon has arrived at an accommodation with the Danes. Because of the help that they have given rebuilding this town and the dock, they will have a carnet to trade freely within these walls in perpetuity and that will bring wealth to her realm.”

In fact it was Drustina and Catherine who had negotiated the deal but Drustina was determined to promote Dalcimon so that the surrounding tribes would respect her. The Franks listened with interest then asked.

“Could not we Franks have a similar trading privilege?”

“I don’t know,” Drustina replied. “You’d best ask her majesty, Queen Dalcimon.”

The emissaries exchanged concerned glances and Drustina sensed the unspoken thoughts.

“That’s right gentlemen. Her majesty Queen Dalcimon is the authority here. I and my warriors are simply passing through. The Danish traders only work to serve her ambition and create a good safe haven where they can secure a good trading base in this important estuary. Sister Catherine is temporarily Queen Dalcimon’s chamberlain!”

“But you won the battle Lioness. Is not her realm yours by right of conquest?”

Drustina snorted dismissively.

“Gentlemen. I did not defeat Queen Dalcimon, did I? I fought with Viking raiders not a Frankish Queen who had just had her Frisian King and husband murdered. I rescued that woman, or more correctly, my Lieutenant Eric the Saxon rescued her and we recognise her legitimacy. She has not lost her realm ... we, that is I and my warriors returned it to her. Whatever you may think gentlemen, Queen Dalcimon is still the monarch here and her son Andrar is her lawful successor.”

“But can she defend this land?” The younger emissary asked.

“Eventually ... yes! Just give her time. That is why I have called this moot. Dalcimon is a woman unlearned in war but that is of no consequence. My scribe has offered to work as her chamberlain and as to the military aspect, well; leave that to me gentlemen.”

The emissaries left somewhat chastened. Their chauvinistic tendencies firmly smothered by Drustina’s veiled warning. Whatever self interested Frankish ambitions they might have harboured were well and truly tamed. As they left they spoke to each other.

“The Queen Dalcimon has a keeper and the lock is stout.”

“Yes brother. I fear our hopes were a little too hopeful. That Lioness is a clever woman. It’s obvious now why her followers worship her. I only hope we can take back some treaty of substance to our king.”

“I thought that him being Dalcimon’s uncle would have endeared her to our entreaties.”

“She’s a thirty-year-old woman and it’s obvious that the Lionesses’ customs have rubbed off on her. She’s no longer the naive fourteen-year-old being led like a lamb to slaughter. That Chamberlain is a clever woman also. She has a sharp eye for detail and I wonder where an ex nun might have learned such commercial acumen.”

“A couple of years under The Lionesses’ tutelage I shouldn’t wonder. That’s where the skills lie. She’s not known as the lioness for nothing. I am forced to wonder about the military angle as well. What plan has she to defend Dalcimon’s kingdom?”

“I think she envisages a treaty between us, the Saxons and the Friesians.”

“And the Gauls don’t forget. That Urthos fellow sent a message to Gaul as well.”

“It’ll be a fragile deal if the Gauls are involved. Their king is ambitious.”

“And ours isn’t!?” The older emissary scoffed. “Why d’you think he sent us here but to grab what we can. This lioness is a proper sticking point.”

“A bon mott if ever I heard one. The point of her sword has stuck into many men.”

“Aye well all we can do now is wait until the Saxon and Friesian emissaries arrive. See what their ambitions are. Sometimes I feel we have a real live lioness protecting Dalcimon the lamb from the wolves! We Franks, Friesians, Saxons and Gauls being the wolves.”

“Well put comrade, shall we pay a private call on Queen Dalcimon? I think I see the Lioness going to the beach on that ship just leaving the dock.”

The emissaries found Dalcimon with Tara and the children. It was a peaceful domestic scene but it belied the wit beneath the seemingly womanly activity. Dalcimon turned as the emissaries approached.

“Well my countrymen. Welcome to our happy group. These are Drustina’s twins and the girls are my daughters.”

“May we speak privately Majesty?”

Dalcimon smiled, Drustina and Catherine had already forewarned her what to expect.

“Indeed gentlemen, what is it you wish to say?”

She led them to the stump and settled upon it just as Drustina would have sat. The new britches gave her the freedom to sit with her calf crossed over her other thigh and the posture more resembled a man’s sitting than a woman’s. Both emissaries found it hard to ignore the inviting curvaceous vee where the britches hugged her intimate parts.

Dalcimon smiled inwardly. ‘Men were so predictable. It was easy to lead them by their dicks!’

“So gentlemen, what do you wish to speak of?”

The older man managed to tear his eyes away from the delectable view and he croaked as he recovered his composure.

“We were speaking with Queen Drustina earlier and we discussed how to defend your realm against future Viking attacks. It seems to us that you will have very few forces if and when the Danish traders resume their voyage to Britannia.”

Dalcimon smiled enigmatically.

“Indeed gentlemen. Is not that what the forthcoming moot is about?”

The emissaries paused as they gathered their thoughts.

“Well, yes it is, but we were thinking it might be a good plan to build a similar Frankish base on the West bank of the estuary. Our idea would be to have two bases that will force any Viking raiders to divide their forces if they choose to attack.”

Dalcimon smiled again.

“It’s your riverbank gentlemen. The river is the border and always has been. My husband often wondered why you never showed more interest in that side.”

“It is a barren Salt marsh. When the high tides come the whole area is flooded with the sea and its salt. Little grows there.”

“Well it was the same circumstance on this side but my husband’s forbearers have worked constantly to improve the land. We have many miles now of flat fertile pasture. That’s why the Vikings sought to steal it. My husband’s people have worked hard for many generations to make pasture of salt marsh. Much of the work has involved back-breaking labour as river mud was transferred to marsh to raise the land and make it fertile. This mound was the latest venture. My husband planned to do exactly as Drustina and her band are now doing, although the trading dock was Drustina’s idea. She tells of a similar town in the Baltic where she had battle with Sister Catherine and after the pirate-nun’s defeat they built a jetty so that trading conditions could be bettered exactly as we do here now.

Surely,” Dalcimon continued, “would it not be better to first contribute to this town’s construction and then build a sister town on the opposite bank once Hoek is secure? Or do you somehow fear me and the Friesians? Is not my uncle your king? Am I not a Frank?”

The emissaries hesitated. They had expected to deal with a naive widow still grieving the death of her husband and fearful of being left destitute or worse, murdered by some ambitious thieving baron, probably a Frank. Instead they had met a woman who had just about the best military advisor in all Europe at her back, a woman now determined to hold on to her lands and looking as though she had the means to do it. The Frankish empire was not now looking like spreading across the River Rhinus into Friesia. The emissaries realised that they would be forced to adopt the fairer, negotiated route that the Lioness had already sketched out.

They, the emissaries of one of the most powerful kings in Northern Europe had been somehow outsmarted by the Lioness, a girl of just twenty five years. Being Franks and chauvinist Christians they had utterly failed to anticipate the subtle but powerful arguments of feminism that lay latent in most women's breasts. They would have to now wait until the Saxon and Friesian emissaries arrived to commence planning and negotiating to protect the whole Northern European coast from the Viking depredations. Dalcimon’s small queendom on the Eastern banks of the great Rhine delta now had a pivotal role in that plan and its strengths lay on the trading opportunities provided by the Rhine and its connections to the Scheldt coupled with a negotiated alliance between Franks, Saxons, Friesians and Gauls. An alliance formulated and convened by a young Celtic maid and enabled by a widowed Friesian minor queen.
Dalcimon had learned Drustina’s lessons well.

Three days later the Saxo-Friesian delegation arrived followed closely a day later by a hastily organised Gaulish delegation. The Gauls were astounded to find that their delayed arrival had not damaged their hoped for objectives because a determined twenty-five-year-old Celtic Maid had deliberately delayed the convention until all interested parties were present. The maid’s impartiality and even-handedness endeared her to all and her lesson in magnanimity was not lost on the widowed young hostess. At twenty-five, Drustina was already an old hand at formulating alliances and founding nations. Dalcimon’s small but vitally neutral queendom was a product of Drustina’s geopolitical neonativity.

The Lionesses’ reputation had risen yet another notch and spread another hundred leagues.

~~ooo000ooo~~