Strange Bedfellows

Shara watched from her saddle for an entire afternoon as Kalus fought with the mule he was now riding. It was only really a fight for the first ten minutes. The mule learned quickly that misbehavior would earn it the riding crop.

"Just like me." She thought, realizing he was applying the same strict standards to the mule that he did her. It seemed he applied them to the soldiers under him as well. She couldn't decide whether she should feel good or bad about that.

He certainly was consistent and she noted more than once the respect that every member of his legion seemed to afford him. It wasn't hard to believe that he was as uncompromising with the men as he had been with her and this mule. On the other hand, he was generous in letting her ride his horse and making sure she was properly protected from the sun. The seeming contradiction was quite impressive.

Even more impressive was that he was keeping control of his horse while riding the mule.

Kalus had let out his war horse's reins enough to tie them around the saddle horn of his mule. Every time his very high-strung horse started to get antsy, he would give the reins a little pull and the horse would settle down again. This was in addition to the mule that seemed determined to test her husband every five or ten minutes.

It went like that the whole afternoon.

She couldn't decide which of them was more stubborn, the ass or the mule. She smiled at her little joke, knowing that saying out loud would earn a swift reprimand from Kalus. She wondered for a moment if he would use the riding crop on her if she were that rebellious.

She wasn't sure.

They marched the whole afternoon into the early evening, which apparently was normal, and finished setting up camp with an hour or two of light left. It was quite impressive to see how quickly Kalus's soldiers could set up camp after marching the whole day. She supposed it was habit and required before they could rest.

She was wrong about the rest.

Once camp was set up, Kalus left her in the care of his herald, Kyselius, and went to oversee training.

She was too far away to see much, but she could see every single man in his portion of the army taking part in the battle simulations. They were small-scale, but she could see how the training was directly applicable to a full-scale engagement.

"Why do they train now at the end of the day when they are tired?" She asked Kyselius. "Why not train early when they are rested."

The herald chuckled. "I take it my lady has never been on the battlefield before."

"No, why?"

"War is an exhausting affair. To train only while rested would be to only train for the first few minutes."

"Okay." She acknowledged.

She noticed that the rest of the army -- the troops that weren't Kalus's troops -- were already eating dinner. They were all singing and merrymaking, and it looked and sounded like they were indulging in no small amount of alcohol as well. Her stomach was growling and she was a bit sore from riding all day. She had no taste for wine, but would've loved some hot food.

After drilling for over an hour, Kalus and his men returned. The cooks weren't quite finished with dinner and he came up to her while they waited.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Sore mostly." She replied because he had asked, but she didn't elaborate further.

She had to keep reminding herself that this man, her husband, was the reason her country had been living in fear ever since the invasion began. No matter how good of a man he was, he was still her enemy.

"Understandable." He nodded. "I take it you don’t often ride this much?"

"Not usually."

"Do you have any discomfort from what we did yesterday in the meadow?" He asked more quietly.

"Not physically." She replied as coldly as she thought she could get away with. She shuddered slightly to drive the point home.

"Would you prefer the alternative?" He asked.

She didn't answer him.

Of course she wouldn't. Of course she'd rather be forced by one man who was her husband than many who weren't. Though, she couldn't decide if he was truly forcing her. She had willingly let him do it, but not because she wanted to. The alternative had been an even less pleasant option.

Dinner was served a few minutes later.

The rations were cold but at least they were filling. Again, Kalus made sure all the men -- plus her -- had their food before he sat down to eat. He was sitting in a circle with a half-dozen men who she assumed were directly under him and who were served dinner at the same time he was. As a consequence, she was nearly done eating before they had begun.

The men sat around discussing army business while joking and ribbing each other and Kalus in equal measure. There was a degree of respect in their tones though, and anyone listening could easily tell that they thought the world of him. She mostly tried to avoid scowling.

"Katia right?" One of the men addressed her.

She nodded.

"I bet it was some sight to see him--" He jerked his thumb toward Kalus. "--fighting with that mule. It's about the only animal alive that's as stubborn as he is." He said jovially. Everyone laughed, even Kalus.

"Yes, I couldn't decide which was more stubborn, the mule or the ass." She replied coldly, not able to resist the proverbial silver platter on which the opportunity to voice her clever insult had appeared.

Silence fell as the jovial atmosphere instantly disappeared.

Everyone looked at her.

"What?" She said looking around at all the men who were looking at her with something between shock and pity.

"That's ten lashes milady." One of them finally said.

She looked at Kalus who was unreadable. He looked at her for several seconds, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then nodded sadly. "Aye, it is."

"What?" Shara blinked.

Ten lashes for that? It was a mere insult, and a clever one if she was being honest with herself.

Kalus closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and again let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes, he looked grieved, but not for himself; for her. He didn't appear to have been hurt at all by her insult, but instead seemed sorry for her sake.

Kalus regarded her with more than a bit of pity. "I have a firm rule about blatant, overt disrespect in this legion. The penalty is ten lashes and I make no exceptions."

He sighed heavily, then turned to the herald, who was eating with them. "Get the camp magistrate, and tell him to bring the lash."

"If I may Commander?" One of the men said. He was a bit older and looked like he had been born doing battle. His hair was partially gray but his eyes were sharp and cunning. His face bore the scars of countless battles and looked like a fellow that few would trifle with.

Kalus nodded.

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse and exceptions do tend to foment rebellion." The warrior said. "However, she is a woman, not a man. While I would have given my own son fifteen lashes instead of ten for this offense, I would strike dead the man who brought a single lash to bear against one of my daughters. Might I suggest an alternate punishment for this first infraction, and one more suitable to the fairer sex?"

Kalus stood heavily and addressed the elder warrior. "Titus, I would flatly refuse if any other man had asked. However, your years and wisdom carry much weight. Speak your mind."

The older warrior -- Titus -- nodded and turned to Shara. "Do you know what happens when discipline breaks down in an army?"

She shook her head.

"The men run wild, raping whomever they like and pillaging at their leisure. No woman in a hundred miles would be safe and no family would be left with enough to feed the children. You -- the commander's wife -- have disrespected him in front of other men. If he lets you get away with this, the men will revolt in short order. I've seen men beheaded for less in this army, though not in this legion of course."

"Oh." Shara hadn't thought about what might happen if Kalus didn't keep such rigid control of his men. She could also see how word of her insult would undermine him, especially since she was his wife.

She gulped.

Titus continued. "But, while you would doubtless survive the lashing, your scars and screams would perhaps send too strong a message. There's a fine line between just discipline and cruel punishment. So I propose that instead of ten lashes in public, you take twenty strikes from a cane or crop from Kalus himself, in private, as a proper when a man disciplines his wife."

Titus turned to Kalus. "Would that perhaps be sufficient for this first offense, recognizing that a second would be dealt with in the usual manner?"

Shara looked at Kalus hoping for him to agree. She had heard what a military lash could do to unprotected flesh and it made her shudder.

Kalus looked at her.

She saw a rush of protectiveness in his eyes that belied his hard stance, expression, and body language. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before turning to the circle of men around the campfire. "I have a council for a reason, what say you all? I will abide by your decision, for I dare not trust myself to make it alone."

"Kalus, no man will question your discipline." Titus said. "But rather, they will respect you for your mercy and restraint toward the fairer sex. I vote aye"

"Aye." Kyselius said almost immediately.

"Aye." Another man agreed.

One by one, the others voice their agreement without a single dissenting voice.

"Very well then." Kalus said, and he looked relieved as he turned to the herald. "Kyselius, please fetch my riding crop from the luggage."

Shara flinched.

It was certainly better than the lash, but riding crops were designed for the thick hide of a horse, not the delicate skin of a noble lady.

* * *

Kalus felt like punching something.

Not Katia of course, but something large and solid that was soft enough to not hurt his hand; like King Tyso perhaps. Especially king Tyso. He was certain that Katia's sharp wit and pleasant disposition -- when she wasn't being forced into situations like this -- would've made her a wonderful wife. If he had been able to court and wed her properly, he was sure they would've been very happy.

But now...

Now he was carrying his riding crop into his tent. He scowled, again wishing that King Tyso was available to use as a punching bag. Or perhaps a sparring dummy for his sword's point.

He closed the tent flap behind him since Katia had already gone into the tent before him. Mercifully, she seemed to have realized her precarious position and did so without complaint or comment. She was sitting on the bed with her chin resting on her knees, which were tucked up to her chest and held tightly there by her arms. She looked so small -- almost frail -- sitting there in a sitting version of the fetal position.

He hated this.

He silently cursed King Tyso.

Still, his leadership training kicked in. "Katia, do you know why your infraction was so serious?"

She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it.

"Speak." He said. It wasn't quite a command, but it wasn't merely a suggestion either.

"It was just a joke." She squeaked out.

"No, it wasn't." He shook his head. "It would've been 'just a joke' with a different tone of voice and attitude. Had you taken a respectful tone or meant it as friendly ribbing, I would wager we would all still be laughing about it." He paused and let his stern demeanor fall for just a moment. "I will admit it was rather clever though."

She gave him a small smile which faded quickly.

His stern tone returned. "But no, you were cold and intended to not only be disrespectful but also as insulting as possible. Do you deny it?"

She looked guilty for a moment, then shook her head.

"Do you know why discipline is so important in the military?"

She hesitated, probably remembering Titus' words.

"Because men require restraint sometimes." He explained. "My own men wouldn't dare, but the men who found you first were not from my legion. A serving girl directed me to your chambers and had she not enabled me to arrive in time, you likely would've felt many men that day."

She shuddered.

"However my own men wouldn't have dared to touch you. Do you know how I can restrain my men from acting on their baser instincts?"

She stared at him for a moment before whispering something so quietly that he didn't catch it.

"Speak up."

"Discipline." She whispered.

He nodded. "That's the only thing that has kept you safe, and it's the only thing keeping you safe now. King Tyso is not a moral man and he does not attract moral soldiers. If I was out of the portrait, I doubt there would be a single virgin among the prisoners by daybreak tomorrow. Many would be brutalized, possibly you among them. Whereas now, not a single woman who was captured by my men has been violated. Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely.

"I have no wish to discipline you this way." He said heavily. "But if I allowed my men to treat me as you did -- my own wife -- there could be a mutiny in days. The rules must apply to everyone. Didn't I warn you about how severe it would be if you were disrespectful in front of the men?"

She nodded mutely again.

"Then do you see why this is necessary?" He asked.

Katia hesitated for several seconds before starting to nod, but then her face grew fearful as her eyes landed on the crop and she shook her head vigorously. He again wished to be alone with King Tyso for several minutes. His knuckles would hurt for days and the king would probably have him executed. However, there was a small part of him that thought it would almost be worth it.

"Stand up." He instructed.

She bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, and then did so. She was wringing her hands together as she stood there trembling slightly. Again he was struck by how small and frail she looked. Every instinct he had was telling him to protect her, but sadly this was protecting her.

If only she hadn't said it in front of the men.