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One part of taking reasonable precautions was thoroughly intimidating any subordinate who even dreamed of knuckling his way up the greasy pole by a threat of outing her.
So much went by in a flicker as she kept up the stare. A few seconds later a little sweat showed on Wielman's forehead, and he dropped his eyes.
Good, now you know better than to try and blackmail me.
"You're right," she said. "She'd be very suitable. See to it. Deduct an adult's boon-work from her family's dues and put her on the rolls as a free retainer. I'm going to start spi
Putting Delia in charge of those projects would be a sensible thing to do even if they didn't get along otherwise.
But I think I'm going to really like that girl, and not just when I'm in a state of lustful, drunken horniness; she's cheeky as a sparrow, she's not afraid of the priests, and she made me want to laugh even when I had a hangover. Plus she's awesome cute, and I think she likes me, not just the career prospects.
As he bowed his head and turned to go with a murmured of course, my lady, Tiphaine contemplated the square of raked, rolled gravel in front of the barracks with less than enthusiasm; it held a dozen upright oak posts six feet tall, resting in metal sleeves set into the ground, and climbing frames, some of them dangling knotted ropes. Then she went into the salle d'armes; Ath wasn't big enough to have separate ones for different ranks. The one it did have occupied the ground floor of part of the barracks block built against the west side of the court, opposite the tower-keep and the gate. Inside was a big, bare room with a wooden floor, rolled mats against the walls, some gymnastic equipment, weights, a few Nautilus machines and mirrors on one wall, with a corkboard on another carrying a map of the castle and the patrol paths around it, and a duty roster.
People slightly older than herself told her that dojos had been like this before the Change. She didn't remember, since she hadn't studied the martial arts then, though she'd been a state-level gymnast and track-and-fielder in middle school. Today she began with a series of stretching exercises and kata.
Now I know what it's going to be like to he seventy, and arthritic, she thought after a moment. But she gritted her teeth and persisted, then did a routine on the parallel bars and vaulting horse, and some tumbling on the mats, stopping now and then to drink from the water fountain.
After the sweat started and joints and tendons loosened a bit she ducked into the ready room and picked up a blunt practice sword and heavy wicker training shield-a middling-sized four-foot shield, since she was tall for a woman and about average for a man. Then she went back outside, setting the shield's bandolier-like guige strap around her neck. That took part of the weight, and she could use it to sling the kite-shaped defense over her back with a quick readjustment.
Tiphaine took stance in front of one of the six-foot posts, left foot advanced, left fist up under her chin, which put the upper arc of the shield just under her eyes and the point at about knee level; the convex triangle almost completely covered her body. The sword went up overhead, hilt forward.
"Ya- hi!" she shouted from the bottom of her lungs, and attacked. "Haro!"
A chip of tough oak flicked out, even though the practice sword had neither point nor edge. It was also a lot heavier than her real blade, but that was all to the good-a woman had to work harder to build upper-body strength, and train harder to maintain it, one of life's manifold injustices. Eighty minutes later she stepped back and let the rounded tip of the sword fall to the ground, propping the hilt against her body and working her hand and shaking it. Every impact on the unyielding hardwood jarred back into her wrist and arm, and the hand felt as if someone had driven a wagon loaded with bricks over it; she was breathing deeply but not panting, and her sodden clothes clung as if she'd waded through a river.
The experience was familiar, and pleasant enough normally; she'd done at least as much and usually much more six days in seven since her fourteenth year. In Lady Sandra's Household, she'd usually done hours of classwork afterwards, too; the consort insisted on her personal retainers getting book-learning as well.
While she caught her breath she looked around, and found the castle had thoroughly come to life. Two men-at-arms and a double pair of crossbowmen trotted out through the main gate on routine patrol against bandits, lances in rest and crossbows across backs; spearmen and more crossbowmen paced their rounds on the fighting platform, or watched from the towers. Bread was baking in the kitchens, and the rich, earthy smell made her acutely aware of being famished. Iron rang on iron in the smithy, and a grinding wheel made a tooth-gritting sound as it bit into metal. Carpenters' hammers knocked; children and dogs ran about, and mothers called to them from the windows of their apartments. Two girls with broad straw hats and skirts kirted up carried a load of laundry in through the gates between them in a big wicker basket with handles on either side, and a wagon full of cut fodder followed. The doors of the chapel were open, and Father Peter's housekeeper swept it out, giving Tiphaine a curtsey as she noticed her gaze. She was a buxom young woman with caf-au-lait skin set off by the-expensive-saffron of her tunics and headdress, which made the new overlord of Ath wonder slightly about the priest's lack of interest in sheets:
And a number of the garrison were working out; many of them looked more the worse for wear than she'd felt when she woke. Tiphaine had only a vague throb of headache now, and a hot shower and breakfast would cure that. One of the diligent ones was Sir Ivo.
"Hi," she said as he stepped back and rested his blade over one shoulder; he'd put his hauberk on for the drill, which was conscientious of him. "Where's Ruffin?"
The young knight gri
"Maybe the arm's still bothering him. But I doubt it. They got thin partitions up there, my lady," he said. "It sounded like he and Joyce were celebrating again."
"Christ Jesus, I hope for her sake he brushed his teeth first," Tiphaine said, and they both laughed; you didn't get dainty in the field.
Then she looked critically at the garrison troops at practice. "You know, Ivo, the men-at-arms weren't half bad hand-to-hand, and the infantry's drill is OK and none of them are really fat, but some sure got tired 'way too fast. That'll get you killed as easily as not knowing the counters when it's for real-no rest breaks. We need to schedule more aerobic conditioning and sweat them hard."
"Yeah, no dispute, my lady. But remember a lot of them have been out here in the ass-end of nowhere since the castle was built."
"This isn't the ass-end of nowhere. Barony Chehalis is."
Ruffin chuckled; neither of them liked the Stavarovs. "OK, this is within wiping distance of the ass-end of nowhere. It's too far north to skirmish with Bearkillers most times, and too far west for Mount Angel or the Mackenzies, and too far south for a levy against the Yakima towns. And these guys, they're old men. Some of them are thirty, or even more."