The Rite of Spring: The Princess

The Rite of Spring: Fragment 39

The Princess
which tells of how Aonan came to her journey's end, and met with her betrothed at long last

I found myself in a window embrasure high on the tower of the House of the Cock. It was late in the night, and the moon was setting. Thin mist was forming over the river. It was impossible for me to tell how great a height I was above the ground; it seemed a very great elevation. How Lin had managed to ascend to that window I shall never know. She had fastened a rope to some point on the ground before beginning to climb, and within the room, had fastened the other to the bars of the cage. All I had to do now was to go down the rope. Lin had showed me a way of arranging the rope, over the shoulder, under the crotch and around the waist, and then held in one hand, which would allow it to slide gradually past the body. She had said to me that I must stand on the wall as though it were a level floor, allowing the rope to take my weight, and walk slowly backwards.

This was all very well, but I could not work out how to make the transition from my present, cramped position within the aperture to one perpendicular to the wall. We had a whispered conference. Lin gave her usual caustic analysis of my character, and I have to confess this heartened me. Following her directions carefully, I transferred my weight as directed, and found that I could indeed walk perfectly comfortably down the wall. That is to say I could do it. Lin's clothes, which she had given me, were man's clothing after the fashion of my own people; a shirt with a long, belted leather tunic over it, and boots. Additionally there were a pair of leather leggings, which I found stiff and uncomfortable, and her belt, slung about with knives. I was at once relieved to find that these clothes lacked the aroma which I associated with Lin's attire, and ashamed of myself for this reaction.

At last I was down. I tugged on the rope, once, as Lin had directed, and in a moment the further end came snaking down to lie in a loose heap at the foot of the wall. I found the point to which the near end had been secured, an old knife driven in between two stones of the wall, I suppose by Lin. Following her directions, I untied the rope, and made a bundle of it. Lin had suggested that I throw it into the river, but instead I took it with me in case it should be useful. I now stood at the top of the gentle flight of steps leading down to the river that stretches from the boathouse of the House of the Cock some hundred manheights to that of the House of the Cunt, identical indeed, to the steps between each of the riverbank Houses.

I knew that I needed a boat to cross the river, and the simplest thing to do seemed to be to go to a boathouse and take one. I had some fear that the boathouse might be guarded, but luck was with me and I found no guard. I slipped through the side door into the boathouse. Within, it was intensely dark, even after the darkness of the night, and it took my eyes some moments of adjustment before I could make out anything in the gloom. At last shapes began ot form; first, the faint gleam of water, occupying the centre of the space as though it were a carpet. Then, a mass running all around the space; the wooden quay or staging to which the boats were fastened. And then, four boats. One, smaller than the others, looked as though I might be able to manage it by myself.

Now that it seemed no further obstacle lay in my way, that my mission was on the point of success, I knew a moments pause. I sat within the boathouse, hugging myself, drawing together the resolution I required for the last stage. Was I sure that I was doing the right thing? It shook me that so many of the people I had come to esteem highly had so mistaken an opinion of my Clan. Could they really be mistaken? Well, yes; none of them were of my people, or had direct knowledge of my people. It was surely all prejudice speaking.

Except Lin... Except Linnain, 'the hunter'. Lin spoke with greater bitterness than any other of my people, and her loyalty to myself was proven beyond doubt. And no-one, looking at Lin, could question that she was herself of the Noble Blood. Who was Linnain? Was she, perhaps, a dishonoured woman? Was she the illegitimate daughter of a warrior? I wondered how it would feel to be an outcast from the Clan, kicked and spat upon, without rights to food or water, with no tent to shelter from the sun in summer, or from the rains in winter. Such a person - particularly an illegitimate child, innocent of any personal wrong-doing - might well feel bitter.

But the Noble Blood must be kept pure, I knew, and so the ostracism of the tainted ones was inevitable, and necessary. It did not reflect ill on the Clan. Nevertheless, the thought that I might not see Lin again saddened me; Lin... yes, yes, even Kiara... even Tan. Those three had seen me as a person, not simply as a potential breeder of sons, a brood mare. No-one would ever see me thus again. Still, it was my duty. I knew that I must go.

My people are not, on the whole, familiar with the nautical art. However, there was no-one to whom I could turn for instruction, so I knew that I must simply place my trust in the All-Seeing God, and use my best endeavours. I stepped into my chosen craft, and undid the cord which held it to the quay. The first difficulty I encountered was the remarkable lack of stability of the vessel. Having no experience of this problem, I had naturally stood up to undo the cord. This proved ill advised. The vessel leaned dramatically towards the quay, so that but for its presence I must have been cast into the water. Happily, I was able to grasp the pilings and thus save myself. However, a new problem now manifested itself. Under the impulse of my feet, the vessel commenced to drift away, until I was hanging almost horizontally with my feet hooked into the boat, and my hands grasping the quay.

This was a situation I found myself unable to resolve. I fell into the water. Fortunately, the boat drifted no further - I found that its other end was still secured - and I was able to climb in again, paying attention to the teaching of experience. This time I found myself seated comfortably within the boat. None the less, my accident had shaken me. While in the water, the heavy knives and restrictive leggings had so incommoded that I had feared I should be dragged under altogether. Consequently, I removed them, and later left them in the boat, together with the rope; an action I was to regret bitterly. I then unhitched the remaining rope, this time without rising from the sitting position, and was able to push it out into the river.

I was now faced with the problem of how to propell my vessel. The barge on which I had travelled during part of my journey to the City had not only been the first vessel upon which I had ridden, but was indeed the very first which I had seen. It had navigated an artificial canal, and was drawn by a horse. I could derive no clue as to how to propel my captured skiff from that experience. The only other occasion upon which I had seen boats in use was during the very short journey from the House of the black-clad people - I now know this to be the House of the Hand - to the House of the Cock. On that occasion, I had travelled in a large skiff pulled by eight oarsmen. They had sat four to a side, facing the back, and each had pulled one oar. A further boatman, using an oar at the back, had seemed to steer.

Being solitary, I could not adopt this technique. During the same journey I had seen a waterman propel a light boat of some sort with a single oar over the back, which he appeared to rock or wag from side to side in an oscillatory motion. I determined to essay this latter method. The boat had been designed, I think, to accept up to four oarsmen - certainly there were four oars, which in the event proved fortunate. I took an oar, and laying it between two pins which were fortunately provided in the wood at the end of the boat, commenced to oscillate it in what I believed to be the manner I had seen. The boat wagged gently, and, equally gently, drifted down the river past the the silent, dark masses of the Great Houses, relieved by the occasional gleam of a late burning lamp. Slowly, under the impulse of the current, my skiff rotated. I experimented with various different oscillations, but still could not achieve any forward motion. Thus concentrating, my attention was largely held by the oar. However, a shadow across my vision caused me to glance up, and I saw that the boat was about to strike the steps.

I quickly clambered to the other end of the boat, to prevent a damaging collision. In the event, I was too late to prevent the vessel striking the stonework, but it did not appear to be damaged. I thrust off from the steps, causing the boat to move briskly out into the river. As it went, I noticed my oar drifting away. I tried to reach it, but could not. I seized another oar to try to hook it with, but in the confusion I dropped that one also, and it was only by good fortune I was able to recover it. I had now lost one oar. Taking another to my former position, I once again experimented with it. After some time I found I could turn the boat to point in any direction I chose, but I could not propel it. In the meantime, I was drifting slowly down the river upon the sluggish current. Clearly there was more to this technique than I had appreciated.

I decided to try the other technique, that of rowing over the side. I took my oar to the centre of the boat, and there found a bench with, in front of it, a pair pins set into the edge of the boat upon either side. I placed my oar between one pair. I knew that the oarsmen I had seen had faced the back of the boat, but was uncertain how, alone, I would be able to steer if I could not see my way. In consequence, I commenced to row with my oar so as to draw myself forwards through the water. To my consternation, I found that the boat merely turned in a wide circle. I hurriedly lifted my oar across to the other side. I found that if I pulled a few strokes first on one side and then on the other, I was able to make an erratic progress. For the first time since leaving the land, I felt I had some chance of crossing the river.

I did not retain this burst of optimism long. In transferring the oar across the boat the fifth or sixth time, I dropped it, and it, too, drifted away. I now had only two oars left. This caused me to pause, and think carefully. Although the detail upon both banks was concealed in the gloom, I could see that I was less than a quarter of the way across. Also, I knew the current was slowly carrying me down stream. I reflected that the bench upon which I sat was barely wide enough for two to row abreast; yet there were pins for oars upon both sides of the vessel. Perhaps, upon such a small boat, the oarsman was intended to use two oars? I essayed this, and found to my relief that it served admirably. Now I was able to make appreciable progress in an almost straight line. The huge dark mass which was the High Place drew nearer.

I was again beginning to feel confident in my management of the oars when one failed to grip the water; as I put my weight upon it to row, it skittered across the surface, precipitating me from my bench. Fortunately I kept my grip upon the other oar, but the one which had not gripped the water slipped away over the side. Now I my stock of oars was reduced to one only. I could see its errant twin lying across the surface of the water, for although the moon had long set, there was till some light. Working exceedingly carefully with the other oar, one stroke at a time on each side, I brought the boat up to it. I leant over the side and grasped it, straightening up with it only to hear the other splash into the water upon the further side of the boat. Fortunately, this one did not drift out of reach, and I was able to recover it without further difficulty.

My further adventures with the boat would be tedious to relate, and tedious for you to listen to, but eventually I did manage to reach the Doorstep. I left the boat, and proceeded towards the barracks, from which a light still shone. Reaching this, I called from outwith the door, after the custom of my people, and presently a warrior came out to me. He appeared to be somewhat inebriated, and greeted me rather churlishly, saying just

"what is your business here?". As he had not given me his name, I did not give him mine, replying

"I bear an urgent message for Gruath a'Gruath, heir of the Rhiconicfhearchain; I desire that you will take me to him."

I fully expected to hear that Gruath was abed, for it was then not long before the dawn; but the warrior directed me to follow him. We proceeded down a dimly lit corridor, up a stair, and along another similar corridor. The warrior called at a door, and a voice called us to come in.

The warrior entered first, so that I was able to view the room and its occupants only after I was already within it. The room was of a fair size, simply painted white. A couple of palettes lay by one wall; well dressed warriors rested upon these, although they were not asleep. There were also a number of large chests, one of which had been pulled out from the wall. Lying upon this chest was a naked, pale skinned person, I assume a woman, aligned so that her legs were rather towards me. Upon her lay a warrior, wearing only his tunic. From his posture I suppose that he was coupling with the woman. A naked woman stood beside the chest. Her hands were behind her - I gained the impression, but could not see, that they were bound; her face was a mask of fear. A second warrior, quite naked, stood behind the couple upon the chest. At first his posture puzzled me, and then I realised with disgust that his generative organ was within the anal orifice of the other soldier, while the fingers of his right hand were inserted into the generative aperture of the standing woman.

My companion said

"Gruath, there is a slut here asking for you."

I was so horrified by what I could see that I did not muster the wit to rebuke him for so mis-describing me. Which of these depraved monsters was my designated master? To my horror, it was the standing man who replied, without interrupting his activity. He said

"I'm busy, Dhomnuil. You deal with her". This was a further shock. Dhomnuil is a cousin, son of my grandfather Ceathre's second daughter, Dharian, and Ardnain of the Long Spear. I had known he was with the Guard, but I had not recognised him, for he had been a boy when I had last seen him.

Too late I started to make a horrified protest. I was too much shocked to be coherent. The standing man said, without looking round,

"shut her up and take her away, Dhomnuil, there's a good fellow"; and the good fellow laid a hand across my mouth to silence my protests, and dragged me struggling down the corridor into another, larger, room in which there were some twenty or so warriors of my people lying on palettes, many asleep, others not. And there, where of all places I was certain that I would be safe, would be honoured, I met my fate.

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