Mara watched the departing retinue with sharp calculation. If the ancient matriarch of the Jandawaio resented the jostling of anything but a slow walk, Buntokapi’s visitors would arrive within an hour after he had returned to Teani’s bed. Fervently Mara murmured, ‘I certainly hope so, Nacoya.’
She returned to her quarters, where her maps and documents awaited further study. Nacoya stared after her in astonishment, wondering what possible motive would justify the young mistress’s inviting the wrath of that brute she had married.
Three days later, ignoring the presence of Nacoya and the other servants, Buntokapi stamped into Mara’s quarters unannounced. At the sight of his dusty sandals, Mara winced reflexively. But this pair was for walking only, lacking the studs used in battle or on the practice ground. ‘You should never have allowed that old fool and his clutch of jigahens to come to my town house,’ the Lord of the Acoma opened. The timbre of his voice caused the maids to shrink in the corners.
Mara lowered her eyes, as much to hide her amusement at Buntokapi’s calling the Lord of the Jandawaio’s women barnyard fowl as from any contrition. ‘Is my husband displeased?’
Buntokapi lowered himself to the mat before her with a sigh of aggravation. ‘Woman, that old fool was a friend of my grandfather’s. He’s damn near senile! Half the time he thinks my father is his old boyhood pal, and that I am Tecuma of the Anasati. And his mother is worse, a near corpse he drags along wherever he goes. Gods, wife, she must be close to a century of years. And all she does is stare, drool, and mess the mats upon which she’s sitting. And Lord Chipaka talks to her all the time; all of them talk to her, the wife, the daughters, even the servants! She never answers, but they think she does!’ His voice rose as his recounting of the visit inflamed his temper. ‘Now, I want to know which brainless serving girl sent them along to my town house! All Chipaka could remember was she had large breasts!’
Mara stifled a smile, barely. The nearsighted Lord Chipaka might perhaps have thought Mara’s breasts large, since his nose had hovered within inches of her chest as he spoke to her. Puzzled by his wife’s blush, and the suspicion that she laughed at him, Buntokapi shouted until he shook the timbers of the doorframes. ‘And he groped my … servant girl. Right before my eyes he reached out and he … pinched her!’
Too angry to contain himself, Buntokapi leaped to his feet. He shook his fists in the air, ranting himself into a sweat. ‘And they stayed for two days! For two days I had to give my quarters to that old fool and his wife. My … servant girl, Teani, had to take quarters in a hostelry nearby. The old lecher wouldn’t keep his hands off her.’
Mara sat up then and deliberately provoked him. ‘Oh, Bunto, you should have let him bed the girl. She’s only a servant, and if the old Lord was still capable after all these years, at least the diversion would have kept him occupied.’
Buntokapi’s colour deepened. ‘Not in my town house! If I can find that stupid cow who sent Jandawaio to me in Sulan-Qu, I’ll personally strip the skin from her back.’
Mara’s reply sounded meek in contrast to her husband’s bellow. ‘Bunto, you said, should anyone come to call, send them along to you at your town house, not keep them waiting here. I’m sure Jican informed all the servants and that any of them would have done the same.’
Buntokapi paused in his pacing, one foot half-raised like a shatra bird’s. The pose would have been funny were he not so coiled for violence. ‘Well, I made a mistake. From now onward, send no one to my town house without my prior consent!’
His thunderous shout roused Ayaki, who stirred in his pillows. Apparently preoccupied, Mara turned towards her baby. ‘No one?’
The interruption of his son inflamed Buntokapi still further. He stormed about the room, his fist waving in the air. ‘No one! If a member of the High Council calls, they can wait!’
The baby began to wail. Mara’s brow knitted slightly as she said, ‘But of course you don’t mean your father?’
‘Send that child off with a servant!’ Buntokapi raged. He gestured furiously at Misa, who ran to take the infant from Mara’s arms. Buntokapi kicked a pillow hard, sending it sailing into the fish pool in the garden beyond the screen. Then he resumed as if no interruption had occurred. ‘My father thinks I am stupid, and that I’ll do whatever he asks. He can go piss in the river! The Acoma are not his to command!’ Buntokapi paused, his face dark purple. ‘No, I don’t want him soiling my fish. Tell him to go downstream off my lands, then he can piss in the river!’
Mara hid her hands in the fabric of her robe. ‘But surely if the Warlord –’
Buntokapi cut her off. ‘If the Warlord himself arrives here, do not send even him along to my town house! Is that understood?’ Mara regarded her husband in shocked amazement. Bunto’s rage redoubled. After being repressed for two days with the Lord of the Jandawaio, his tantrum was impressive. ‘Even Almecho can damn well wait upon my pleasure. If he does not wish to wait here, he can sit in the needra pens, if he prefers. And if I don’t get back the day he arrives, he can sleep in the needra shit, for all I care, and you can tell him I said so.’
Mara pressed her forehead to the floor, almost in the bow of a slave. ‘Yes, my Lord.’
The obeisance forestalled her husband, who longed to strike out with his fists now that his anger had found a focus. ‘And another thing. All these messengers you keep sending. I want them stopped. I come home enough to oversee the running of my holdings. I do not need servants disturbing me throughout the day. Is that understood?’
He bent swiftly, snatching his wife upright by the collar. She replied stiffly, her breathing hampered by his knuckles. ‘You do not wish to be disturbed, and all messages are to stop.’
‘Yes!’ Bunto shouted into her face. ‘When I am resting in town, I do not wish to be disturbed for any reason. If you send a servant to me, I will kill him before he can tell me what you say. Is that understood?’ He shook her slightly.
‘Yes, my Lord.’ Mara struggled feebly, her slippers all but lifted clear of the floor. ‘But there is one matter here –’
Buntokapi pushed her roughly backward, and she tumbled into the cushions. ‘Enough! I will hear nothing more.’
Mara raised herself valiantly. ‘But, husband –’
Bunto lashed out with one foot, catching the hem of Mara’s gown. Cloth ripped, and she cowered, her hands protecting her face. He shouted, ‘I said enough! I will not listen to another word! Have Jican take care of any business. I am returning to town immediately. Do not disturb me for anything!’ With a last kick in Mara’s direction, he spun and stalked from her quarters. As his footsteps faded, distantly Ayaki could be heard crying.
After the barest of prudent intervals, Nacoya rushed to her mistress’s side. Helping her upright, and shaking with fright, she said, ‘Mistress, you said nothing to your husband about the message from his father.’
Mara rubbed the reddening bruise on her thigh. ‘You saw, Nacoya. My Lord husband granted me no chance to relay his father’s message.’
Nacoya sat back on her heels. Grimly she nodded. ‘Yes, that is true, my Lady. My Lord Buntokapi did indeed not give you the opportunity to speak.’
Mara straightened her torn robe, her eyes fixed significantly on the ornamented scroll that had arrived that morning, announcing the impending arrival of her father-in-law and his most august travelling companion, Almecho, the Warlord of Tsuranuanni. Then, her bruises forgotten beside the enormity of her husband’s commands, she smiled.
The servants hurried.
As anxious as the rest of the household staff in the face of the coming visit, Nacoya sought her mistress through