by: Rick Johnson 
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
RikJohnson@juno.com
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Table of Contents for Adaption.
Conversion. The arrival of Janice in Russia and the details of her curse. note: hidden until someone wants to read it.
Chapter One. Their leaving the Amazons and travels across Georgia.
Chapter Two. Their entry into the Ottoman Empire at Crimea. note: not finished
Chapter Three. Their travels within The Ottoman Empire.
Chapter Four. Their leaving the Ottoman Empire and visiting Translyvania.
Chapter Five. Their vacation in Bucharest.
Chapter Six. Their visiting Bulgaria.
Chapter Seven. Their visiting Greece. note: not yet written
Chapter Eight. Her visiting Venice. note: not yet written
Retreival. Their travels to Japan to rescue Janice's daughter. note: hidden until someone wants to read it.
Characters in these stories. Here you will find who these people and places are.
It was raining again and that made me cranky. We were trying to follow the coast of the Black Sea south to Greece and I didn’t know if we were in Poland-Lithuania, Moldavia or Wallachia. They were all the same to me. All the same people, all the same history, all fighting the Ottoman advance and all dumping this miserable rain down my neck. The Moldavians were loosing the war, the Poles were winning and the Wallachians, under Vlad Dracula were in that state of flux that depended on the day of the week. The senior Dracul had given his sons to the Turks as hostages to buy time and Vlad’s brother had moved into the Sultan’s bedroom and become Islamic and loyal to the Empire. Vlad, however, learned the hard way about pain and used those lessons to keep his country free. I had heard that when the Turks had sent an army to conquer Wallachia, or Transylvania as the Westerners called it, Vlad Dracula had impailed 20,000 people on pikes along the Turkish march. The Turks had taken one look at this forest of horror and decided that they didn’t want to mess with this man so turned around and went home.
Now Vlad was dead. Murdered and excommunicated by his Greek Church for consorting with Catholic Hungary. The fact that he did so to make alliances to defend his nation was irrelevant. He was Greek Orthodox and Hungary was Catholic and that was that.
Christians! If they ever put their differences aside and united under the love they claimed their dead Christ preached, the Ottomans would still be a tiny tribe in Anatolia picking fleas from their crotches. But the Turks knew this and used the hatred of one church towards the others as their greatest weapon, and so they would turn Greek against Catholic, Catholic against Protestant, Protestant against Calvinist until the stupid Christians were so busy fighting among themselves, the Ottomans could simply walk in and pick up the pieces.
It was only the fanatical hatred Dracula had for the Turks that had saved Europe. Without him, a Knight of the Dragon and Prince of Wallachia, The Ottomans would be pounding on Paris and Berlin today.
And now he was dead, his ghost damned by his own church to wander the land forever, denied both their heaven and hell, undead.
I hate this weather. It makes me gloomy and depressed and I think morbid thoughts for I’m too Irish to sing in the rain as do others. I should be sitting on my porch with warm brandy in my hand, a blanket on my lap and a good women underneath as I watched the drops fall. But instead, my dress was soaked, my bowstrings too wet to use, my horses stinking, cold water pooling in my crotch and I didn’t want to think of what my make-up looked like.
But as cold as I was, Gazelle suffered more. Her ancestors were a rhinos who came from a tropical world of sun and warmth and this weather made her gloomy. In the Summer she’d dig a wallow in a stream or lake and roll around in ecstasy then nap as the sun dried the mud to an armor thicker and harder than her own olive skin. But now she was cold and wet and even more miserable as I was.
I don’t know what made me look up but I did and saw a building in the distance off the road. It was just a shape caught in my peripheral vision that vanished when I turned to look. So I did what all who search do, I looked away and allowed the shape to return from the side. A solid darker shape and flat top so unlike the serrations of the trees. Definitely a building and that meant cover.
“Love,” I yelled over the rain, “I see a building to the right. Let’s take cover there!”
She looked, saw nothing but grumbled and followed me anyway. She was like that. Gazelle was color-blind with almost no sense of smell and when irritable could kill an army with that spiked club she carried but she had the gentlest soul I had ever encountered.
The building was a series of ruins. One large barn, a farmhouse and a few storage rooms, none completely intact. It was obviously a farm that had been overrun by any of a dozen armies and then abandoned as being too expensive in lives to hold. More likely the men were drafted into whatever army passed through with the women sold to a brothel and the children to a chain-gang.
The barn was a total ruin. The roof was so holed there wasn’t a dry place anywhere so we entered the farmhouse which still had decent walls and a thatch roof that survived only because of the grass and ivy that had taken root and covered the thing. But it was dry and big enough for us and that was what mattered.
I couldn’t get the door open so Gazelle pressed her mass against it and shoved and the door simply tore off it’s hinges and fell down. I stepped inside, katana drawn and not expecting any danger but mercs who trust their feelings tend to live longer and I had been on borrowed time only because I was careful.
Once inside I stepped aside and waited as my eyes adjusted. No movement at all, not even rats. “Love, the lamp if you would please,” I asked and Gazelle reached in to hand me a small oil lamp and fire starter. I took flint and steel and soon had a spark which lit the lamp and in the poor light, I saw the place was a mess but deserted. “Bring the horses inside and we’ll dry off.”
I looked around and found the fire-box and tossed some scrap wood into the thing and lit it which caused a cherry fire that destroyed my night vision but revealed the inside with considerable clarity. The building was a large single room whose main walls were stone and mud to keep wolves out and heat in. The windows were small and heavily barred with oak and the roof was peaked with a floor beneath, probably where the children slept or food was stored. As Gazelle tossed more wood on the fire, details appeared such as the remains of cheap walls to separate the sleeping areas, walls that had been smashed long ago.
I sighed and said, “Well, love, I guess we should clean up a bit. Pile the burnable wood by that wall and toss the trash outside. Your skin is thicker than mine so I’ll look around and see if I can find something to make into a broom or burn.”
So I stripped to my underwear and wrapping my already soaked cloak around my half-naked body, I left Gazelle to clean as I explored. The coops were useless and any eggs long gone, not even a feral chicken taking advantage of the structure. The barn, however, had hope. Although cold and wet, some of the grain had sprouted so I cut all that I could to feed the horses and Gazelle and tied some moldy stalks around a stick to make a broom of sorts. I also piled wood and lumber for our fire and took as much as I could back in the first load.
Gazelle had cleaned most of the place and was removing the tack and gear from the horses as I returned. I helped her, then I swept the floor as she didn’t care but I did. We tied a rope to create a sort of stall and as the horses munched on what I had found, Gazelle helped me recover what wood we could from the barn. The wood was placed near the fire to dry and we then settled down. Gazelle habitually went naked save her shoulder pads and caplet so she had little to do save eat. But my dress and cloak were soaked so I hung them to dry and wiped myself of as much water as I could, wringing my hair and tying it back as I emptied the packs and spread their gear to dry. Finally I took my comb and while I ate a meal of cheese and jerky, combed my hair dry as I sat on a blanket near the fire.
Interesting how my mood improved with the state of myself. The dryer and warmer I became, the happier I was and even Gazelle improved her attitude. True I was naked, having set even my bra and panties to dry, but with warm feet and dry hair, my mood improved considerably. “This is not a bad house,” I commented to my companion. “A coat of paint, some flowers and a decent bed and it could even be livable.”
“No rats,” she commented. “Where are the rats?”
She was right, no rats. I had noticed that in the beginning but forgot. This place should be infested so I stood and checked the corners and not even a dropping. I held the lamp to the roof and saw spiders, which was a good sign for fat spiders mean no bugs to bite but nothing else. I took the ladder and lay it against the loft then with katana in one hand and lamp in the other, I climbed aloft, noting that Gazelle had moved her club close to hand.
I expected someone to stab at me with a pole or such but nothing happened. A few rags lay around but as I poked then with my blade, noting stirred, not even a mouse. Now I was getting worried. Rats roaches and people are survivors. When the world ends, you can be certain that a rat and a roach will manage to crawl onto the last piece of land and fight with the last human for that ground. No rats mean that something meaner than they had scared them away.
I sat down on my blanket and said, “Love, I think we need to take watches here. You are exhausted and I am too scared to sleep so I’ll remain awake first.” And with this, Gazelle lay on her own blanket, finished the grain I had brought back and began to snore.
I looked around some more. The horses were still munching on the wheat I had brought and as they had been wiped down as soon as we had stripped them, they were happy. Rock, my gelding, looked at me over the back of the pack-mare as if her were expecting a treat. “Sorry boy, nothing tonight,” I said to him. But both horses were calm which was always a good sign. Gazelle could hear a flea fart on a wolf a league away and so long as she slept, we were safe so with both indicators showing safety, I decided that I was feeling paranoid. But paranoid mercs live longer so made another circuit of the house.
Pounding the walls revealed them to be solid. Looking out the windows showed nothing at all save rain. The spiders happily awaited a fly or mosquito that wouldn’t arrive until the rains ended and there was no place in the house for anything to hide. I lay against Gazelle, basking in her warmth behind and the fire’s warmth ahead and lay my katana next to me. Finally, I spread my legs to allow the heat to warm my private area which had been sitting in cold rainwater for too long and as the warmth spread, I stroked myself to climax and immediately fell asleep.
I was jolted awake as my head struck the ground. I snapped my eyes open to see Gazelle’s genitals immediately over my face, so close I could reach out and touch them. Strange that after almost a year, I had never noticed how human they looked. Then it struck me! I was on watch and had fallen asleep! Gazelle had heard something and I saw the horses nervous so I scooted from under her, grasped my katana and stood at her back as I asked, “What’s happening love?” I resisted the urge to apologize, that would happen later when we survived.
“I don’t know. I don’t hear anything but I smell something dead.” She replied.
Come to think of it, I could smell it now myself. A smell as if a corpse had been uncovered. Maybe it had always been there and the rains, which had now ended, simply covered the smell. “Where is it?” I asked.
“All around.”
The room was empty save for us so I moved to the window and stood next to the opening and looked out seeking someone hiding outside as I was hiding inside. Nothing, so I ducked and ran under the window to repeat my search from the other side. Again nothing. No one was standing next to the window so I picked up a couple rocks and tossed them outside and counted. Click! Click! Click! All thee struck the ground before the window in proper time so no one was waiting under the sill so I moved to the opening and looked out. “Love, there is movement by the barn. To dark to see clearly but shaped human. We have visitors. Watch as I dress please.” And I threw my dress over my head, ignoring my bodice or undergarments. Then I put my belt on, hiked my hem to my calves and returned to the window. Now the stink was stronger and I saw the barn was clear. “Love,” I began when a hand reached through the opening to grab me.
But I was no peasant girl to terrify, my people fought Dane and Saxon and Brit to a standstill. I, myself, had fought in wars in a dozen nations so I simply stepped back, aside, swung and the arm fell to the floor.
Then the arm began to crawl on it’s own, seeking something to grasp. “Gazelle!” I yelled but she was at the door, smashing heads and bodies as I jabbed the limb and tossed it onto the coals of our fire. As the arm smoldered, we heard the first scream and outside a body burst into flame. Then they were gone! They didn’t run away or retreat, they were there, then they weren’t.
As the stench of the burning arm filled the room, I ran to the door and gagged, emptying my stomach, only to be pushed aside by Gazelle who did the same, only farther from the house. The horses were panicking so I forced myself to go inside and tossing a rope about their necks, I led them outside, fighting all the time.
Out stomachs empty, I told Gazelle, “My love, I’ve smelled that stench before. Once, we found a mass grave and so dug it up to give the dead a decent burial. They had been underground for weeks, maybe months and were too far gone, so we piled brush in the hole and burned them. That house has the stench of a body long dead.”
“Something brought them back.” She said. “We should go away before more graves open.”
I had to return to fetch our gear and discovered that the smell was gone as if it had never been. Gazelle approached with the now calm horses and said, “I can’t smell anything now.”
We examined the doorway and found nothing. Not even a piece of flesh on the spikes of Gazelle’s club. My katana was clean and when I examined the fire-box, I found naught but coals. Not even a fragment of burned bone. “This is not normal. If these were walking dead, there should be something left behind. As much as I hate to say, I think we are safer here tonight than out there with those. We should remain and leave in the morning.” Gazelle agreed and so I dressed completely just in case as did Gazelle and took turns sleeping, and this time when I was on watch, I remained awake.
The sun rose in the east as normal and when we searched the area, we found nothing amiss. No footprints in the mud, no rotting bodies, no opened graves. The place was as peaceful as we found it the night before. “My Love, it’ll rain again tonight, I think we should find other shelter before then.” And so we continued on at a trot, seeking distance between us and our nightmares.
It wasn’t long before we reached a large river and following it south, reached a city called Silistria, which was a port on the Danube River. Somehow we had turned inland and were a good 20 leagues from the sea and again within the Ottoman Empire.
As was their habit, the Turks were rebuilding the city and constructing excellent roads for their armies, roads that they gladly allowed merchants and other travelers to use, at a nominal fee. A church was being repaired across the street from a mosque and down a ways, a synagogue was actually being raised. People walked the streets and it was only the vast numbers of Janissaries, Christian soldiers loyal to the Empire, that indicated that this was a battleground. I attracted little attention and that more for my weapons and hair color than my low-cut dress but Gazelle stopped traffic wherever we trod. Obviously, we were still some distance from her home.
I still had more than enough money from our incident in Shukaria so sought a decent inn where we could find large rooms and a hot bath. Fortunately, unlike Christians who believed in bathing when born, when dead or when forced into the rain, the Moslems were required to wash before each meal so public baths were common. We found a nice, clean inn and for only three times the going rate, were given a couple connecting rooms large enough for Gazelle and private enough for me. Then as she ordered a few hundredweights of wheat and bread though they use the font as a measure here of which about 23 fonts equal a hundredweight or a font being about 1 & 1/3 pound. Gazelle’s mass needed food and sleep so I left her to her needs as I sought my own.
Fortunately, silver and gold are spendable regardless of the mint so with but a small surcharge for foreign coin, we were safely settled in and our horses cared for with much greater treatment and care than most of the inhabitants of the city. After the last few weeks, I wanted comfort and was willing to pay.
Thus I had chosen an inn that boasted a good bath and after locking my gear safely away, I sought the glory of a hot bath and a foot-rub. The Christians speak of Heaven as singing hosannas to their god for eternity. The Mohammadans speak of Paradise as eating lamb and deflowering virgins. Both are, as usual, wrong! Heaven, Paradise, whatever you would call it is laying in a hot bath with a cold glass of wine while a young girl washes and combs your hair and a pretty boy rubs your feet.
The girl, nicely built as she was, I had wash my hair for she was veiled. Europeans think the veil is a concession to Koranic virtues of modesty but the truth is that many Turkish women and girls chew betel, which is euphoric (Mohammad forbade the grape) but stains and rots the teeth. So they wear a veil to hide the evidence of their habit. Boys do not chew so have nicer smiles. This boy had a very nice smile and the body of a girl so I found him very attractive. The fact that he was able to rub my feet while staring up my crotch lessened his beauty not one bit. “Stand boy,” I commanded, “That I may see your beauty.” And I lifted my foot high so he’d have to rise. Nice round shape, soft, no hair to speak of. I, myself, prefer girls to men and find the hard muscular lines of a man as unattractive as their body hair. This boy, however, could be the best of both. The body of a young girl and the manhood of a boy. It had been a long time since I had had either and with the girl, pretty as she was, a betel chewer, I was forced to consider the other gender for my pleasure.
“Turn for me, please,” I commanded and he did so. The scarcity of his loincloth revealed a really nice ass. I’m a breast woman myself but a nice wiggle on a girl as she walks is definitely attractive.
“My lady,” he said in a high voice, “I fear I do not have what you wish of me.”
“And what, boy, is that?” I queried. He undid his loincloth and turned red as he revealed an adequate, but not impressive penis but no balls. The Turks had castrated him to keep him pretty. Doubtless he was accustomed to Turkish and Greek men thrusting into him from behind and having a woman interested was new to him. Turkish women must be virgins or they are divorced or killed. Oftentimes a chicken is kept on hand to bloody the honeymoon sheets to allow the groom to brag, then the bride is quietly divorced and sent home in disgrace.
“Boy,” I called. “Are you still able to maintain your manhood?” Lack of testicles usually meant to geld the boy as with horses and cattle rarely had that effect on human men. The reverse is often true for the eunuch can attain an erection but not fear it’s loss at climax for they never orgasm.
“Yes my Lady, some men prefer me to service them as a man and as a woman.”
I sipped, and thought, he’s not large which is nice as I had no desire to be torn asunder, just pleasured by finger or…. “Then boy, wash well and as your sister rubs my hair, you may service me another way.” And I tossed him the soap for I had no desire for filth inside me.
The girl approached to wash him and I found myself becoming excited as she knelt to her task, her tight buttocks showing through her own covering. I took another drink and called, “Girl! Do you chew betel?”
“No, My Lady.”
“Then why the veil?”
“My master wishes no one but he to see my face.”
“The Koran does not forbid a woman seeing the face of another woman, may I see yours?”
She lowered her eyes then her veil and she was very pretty. So I took a chance and said, “Is your smile as nice as your features?” She smiled at that and yes, it was. I almost forgot about the boy then, wanting this girl for myself. “Come here please,” I asked though to her it was a command and I kissed her. Her breath and mouth was sweet to imply she had been rinsing with rosewater and her lips were very soft. I touched her small breast and felt it harden under my fingers. Then I felt her hands upon my own breasts as the boy kissed my feet and ankles.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in pleasure, mostly mine. But when I left the bath, wearing my freshly washed dress, I inquired, “Inn-keep, those two slaves in the bath, are they for sale?”
“Yes, my lady they are, and for a good price they may be had.”
I had already had both of them and so asked their price. What he quoted was too high, so I placed half that on the counter. He refused to look so I added another silver and all coins vanished. I now owned both the boy and girl. “Send them to my room with my dinner if you would,” I commanded, once again a noblewoman.
“I didn’t think,” I cried to Gazelle as the two knelt before me. “It was an impulse buy, like when I see a flower by the road or a pretty object in a store window.”
“I thought you disapproved of slavery? You complained how that British Cromwell sold a fifth of your country into slavery. And now you are one of those yourself.” She commented.
“I guess I screwed up this time.”
“What will you do now?” she asked, munching on a loaf of bread.
I turned to the pair and said, “You are free! No longer property but free to live as you will. Go!”
They looked at each other and began to cry. “Now what!” I demanded. I hate it when girls cry and when boys cry it makes me angry.
“My Lady, what will we do? None will hire us, we will starve in an alley or be forced to sell ourselves to a whorehouse.”
“DAMN!” I yelled.
“Sometimes, Janice,” Gazelle said, “you think with your loins and not your mind. You are responsible for these two now.”
“Ok,” I was trying to think this through. “Where are you from, you don’t sound like Turks.”
“Bulgaria, My Lady. We were captured in Sofjia and sold here.”
“Good! Have you relatives alive there?”
They looked at each other then said, “Perhaps an uncle. He was a merchant and so may still remain alive.”
“Then I will take you to him. He can then teach you his trade and … in the meantime, you are still free but I will pay you money to be my servants. There! Gazelle, is this satisfactory?”
“It will do.” She said and ignored us after that. I didn’t know if she was angry with me or not. But I had screwed up and it was necessary for me to fix the problem and this was all I could think of for the time being.
For the next couple days the pair followed me around like puppies. I had to buy them decent clothes to wear and neither could ride a horse so I bought a small trap that could be pulled by my mare and carry them and their gear. Then I had to teach them how to harness the thing and drive and all the stuff I had spent a lifetime doing.
The only good things were that they made certain the room was clean, they brought us meals and rubbed my feet and at night, serviced my body with far more willingness than they had shown in the bath.
The next day we were walking down the street, Gazelle next to my side and Hansel & Gretel behind for I had called them that in jest and they immediately adopted the names for themselves, when I felt thirsty. We stopped at a place to eat and drink when I overheard something at the next table that caused me to turn, “Excuse me gentlemen, but I am Janice Obrien, Baroness Obrien of Hibernia. Your story of which you were speaking, does it concern an abandoned farmhouse but a half-days journey towards the North East? A Farmhouse of brick and thatch with ruined barn and coops?”
The two immediately doffed their hats for Vlad Dracula had ordered the turbans of some Turkish emissaries nailed to their heads for refusing him that honor and these weren’t taking any chances. “Yes My Lady. How do you know of that evil place?”
“My companion, Gazelle and I spent the night there but a few days before and I would hear your story. Hansel, please fetch these people a pitcher of beer to moisten their throats.”
The two looked at each other then began, “My Lady, we were part of a group of merchants bringing wheat to Silistria when a sudden rainstorm forced us to seek shelter in that evil place. Upon entering we found the place to have been recently cleaned (they bowed to me) and firewood stacked against the wall. We settled in with a large fire and shortly after the rains ended, we smelled a stench as if all the graves in Wallachia had opened. Shortly after a hoard of demons from hell attacked us. Some showed signed of being beaten to pieces as if by a giant’s club (they looked at Gazelle’s spiked club leaning against the table) and they nigh tore our companions to pieces until I thrust a torch into the maw of one of the fiends. It immediately burst into flame with a scream that froze our souls and all vanished, leaving only the bodies of they who they had slain. In terror we ran from that evil place to find a troop of Turkish soldiers who forced us back. They made us bury the dead as they lay and then they released us with a warning to never tell lies of that sort again. But, My Lady, I swear it was the truth!”
The man was near fainting with terror so I asked, “Did one of these fiends have but a single arm?”
They looked at each other and replied in the negative. So I looked at Gazelle and said, “My Love, it appears that the one I killed remains dead but your victims still walk the Earth. I believe I see a solution.”
The two knelt to me and asked, “My Lady, from your words and weapons I gather that you are one of those heroes that we hear of in tales. Perhaps you would return to that farm and rid us of this evil.”
Gazelle touched my arm and said, “Janice,…”
I nodded to her and said to they who sought my aid, “I fear that I am but an impoverished noble far from home and seeking adventure as I return to who I once was. But I fear that I must return my servants to their families and then my companion to hers. So I see no profit in the task of which you would have me do and only potential harm to my charges. Please, enjoy your drink for our meal is ready.” And so I turned away to eat as Gazelle remarked, “I was afraid you’d wish to destroy those undead. It isn’t wise to face sorcery. We have won always but each time we were forced to fight. Placing your head in the maw of a lion isn’t wise for anyone.”
“My dearest Love, my soul calls for me to right this wrong but I have already made enough stupid decisions these recent days.”
I had forgotten how nice it was to have servants again. Someone to clean up after me, someone to cook and wash. I missed that part of my old life. Hansel was rubbing my feet when there came a knock at my door. Gazelle looked at the window as we both moved weapons close then I nodded to Gretel who answered the door to reveal a city administrator and a military captain with servants. I made certain that the soles of my feet were not showing for the Turks would accept my exposing almost my entire body but the soles of my feet would be an insult.
“Please enter and sit,” I said for now they were my guests and so they must be polite. They did so and bowed but never removed their turbans for the Easterners have not this custom. After some small talk, which was expected, the official began.
“My Lady Innis,” he started. “Word has come to us that you spent the evening at the haunted farm and not only lived to tell the tale but you also vanquished at least one of the monsters. It pains me to say this you have done what armies could not. We would speak with you of this if we may.”
“Please, speak as you will but remember that I am otherwise engaged.”
“Some years ago that farm was thriving until an army, it matters not which, passed through. They took all that they wished, including the women and food and at his end, the father cursed all who passed there. That night his ghost returned and began to kill the soldiers who remained. The next night he and the soldiers he killed returned and the rest fled in terror.”
“It sounds to me as if they received their just deserts,” I offered.
“Would that it were so, My Lady, but as your own experience shows, these fiends prey upon any who approach, regardless of their guilt or innocence. Thus we must stop them or face an ever growing army of the undead.” He explained then continued. “It pains me to admit that a woman may do what an army cannot but word of your actions has traveled far and wide. You habitually destroy armies, kill monsters, summon djinn and do as you wish, regardless of custom. Perhaps such a woman can succeed where we cannot. We are willing to pay well,” and he placed a number of bags before me.
“Again, I sympathize with you and your offer is very generous, but….”
He then pulled from his sleeve two folded papers and tried to hand them to me, but Gretel took them and offered them to me instead. “These are warrants of passage. With these you may travel anywhere in the Empire and none will dare hinder or arrest you. Only the highest of Administrators may possess these warrants.”
I looked them over then spoke softly to Gazelle, “My love, when a man makes such an offer he adds an unspoken threat. I believe that if we refuse, he will walk away but our passage to Greece will be hindered at every step by administrator and army. He is desperate enough to ask a woman for help but not so much he will take abuse. I think we must accept.” She agreed with me and so I said to the official, “Sir, we accept and shall leave tomorrow morning. Will you please have ready cotton cloth and oil plus food and drink for four days?” He agreed and left, bowing as he did so.
“I think he will watch to ensure that we do as we say. What is your plan, Janice?”
“We return to the farm, set up defenses and search for graves. If we find them, we burn the bodies. If not, we await their attack and use fire arrows before they close.” I said.
“A simple plan and I hope it works. What of your servants?”
“They should remain here where it is safe.”
Hansel jumped in and I had no idea he understood Greek. “My Lady, please do not banish us. We are sworn to serve you and if you must dig graves, please let us do so that your hands are not dirtied by such labor. Also four eyes can watch four directions better than can two.”
I looked at Gazelle and she shrugged as if to say it was of no matter so I agreed, “But the task will be dangerous and terrifying. You must bury your fear and obey my orders even if you fear for your own lives. If you do not, the fiends will kill you and I will be too busy to save you or your sister.”
They both bowed to the floor as if I were a Turk and swore total obedience. I didn’t believe them at all. To be honest, I believed their intentions but when fear strikes, the best of intentions fall by the wayside as you run for imagined safety.
That night we looked over our gear and packed to the best of our ability then as Gazelle fell asleep snoring as usual, both came to me and asked, “My Lady, I know tomorrow night will be dangerous. We know also that you will do all in your power to keep us alive as you saved us from slavery. Please allow us to pleasure you as you wish tonight.”
Good sex is always welcome and it would relax me before the killing started so I allowed Gretel to undress me as Hansel started at my feet and worked his way up. I enjoyed kissing Gretel as her lips were so soft though I wished she would be rougher with me for I enjoy it hard and fast and for half the night. Unfortunately, they were young and I didn’t want to ruin them for their future spouses so settled for what they were able to give. They were very much better than my own fingers though.
The next morning they loaded the wagon and we headed north-east along the path we had arrived. Even though it was early, heads watched us leave so I imagine that the word had gone out. Near the edge of town we saw a company of Janissaries with the captain from the previous night waiting for us. “Ho, Captain, are you here to ensure obedience?” I called as he joined and rode along side.
“Not at all, My Lady. I am directed to assist you in any way you wish. Command me and I shall command my men.” He replied with considerable respect.
A Turk willing to take orders from a woman, and a foreign born infidel at that. If he followed through, he would be a valuable asset indeed. But if he argued, then the next night I’d have his army added to the undead.
The man was educated and philosophical and we discussed the Ottoman Empire as related to the Roman and he understood that his would fall as did Rome but he was fatalistic about it, “It shall fall when Allah wills.” I hate people of faith. My Gods expect me to ask questions. Christians and Mohammadans are taught blind obedience to faith. But then I believed because I had personal experiences with my Gods, this captain had never seen Allah and never expected to until he reached Paradise so his faith was superior to mine though it never occurred to him that he, or his life, could be wrong. He did as he as told and never questioned. He followed me because his superior, through Allah, commanded him to and he never asked if I was competent. If I made decisions that killed half his men, he’d gladly send the other half to die. An Irish Celt would kill a bad leader when the first men died and find someone who knew what they were doing.
We reached the farm by noon and I immediately said, “Captain, please have your men search the land for a league from this house. They seek graves or anything that could be used as a grave. Also, there are bodies buried in fresh graves here, please have them found and exhumed.” He saluted me and gave the orders. I may be Noble and in charge but I was still a woman and so had to be polite and make requests, not orders.
As his men were searching, Gazelle and I directed the kids to build a stable in one corner of the house, then to wrap cotton around the heads of our arrows and place them into flasks of oil near the windows and doors. We also dug small pits around the house and placed barbed stakes in each and then covered them with grass.
“Lady Janice, why this? These are undead, they will feel no pain or injury.”
“Captain, they may not feel pain but when these barbs are driven through their feet, it will take time for them to free themselves and this time will allow us to destroy them. I believe that they can be destroyed by fire. When I burned the arm of the one I dismembered, they all vanished and though the rest returned, the one I burned did not. I believe that they vanished when they realized that we were not soldiers. So if they see your men here, they will continue to come and we will keep destroying them until all are gone.”
“My Lady,” he bowed to me, “Were you a general, the might of the Empire would be as a flea against you. Let us hope you never have cause to fight us.”
His men had been poking the ground with lances and whenever they found loose soil, they would dig and find a body. These bodies I asked to be left there and with each one, I said a prayer for their next life, an exorcism I had learned back home and then had the bodies covered with oil and burned. We found near a dozen when I judged time to quit.
“Captain,” I called. “Have your men finished the barricades I asked for? Good. Then please choose the dozen bravest and send the rest home as fast s they can run. If they are within a league of this place when night falls, the undead will chase them and not us and my plan will fail.” This I said loudly so that all would hear.
The Captain chose a dozen then ordered the rest to leave, “For if you are here when the sun sets, these djinn will seek you out and suck your souls, thus denying you Heaven or Paradise. Return upon the morrow, now go!” The remainder of the army watched with some nervousness as their companions ran down the road as fast as their legs could carry them. I figured that they’d be safe long before sunset and turned to the captain.
“Please ensure that each barricade has oil.” I asked. “As the undead arrive, throw a flask at them ensuring that it breaks and covers the body with oil. If the flasks do not break, they will have to get close and pour it on them which opens them to death and worse. When I signal, you will call them to retreat to the house and we will fire flaming arrows in volleys. I want as many struck with the first volley as is possible that with the first burning, the rest will vanish.
“Your men will then retreat inside and hold the door and windows until sunrise. I will now take a nap so please have your men examine the walls and repair any weak places.”
I then took my servants inside and showed them the loft. “This is important so listen well. Take this rope up there and tie it to a beam. Find a weak spot in the roof and begin to dig an escape hole. Store flasks of oil up there and if the things enter, toss the flasks onto them from above. As they climb the ladder, burn them then escape through the hole you make and run as fast as you can for town. This is a last resort so do not panic until you see me and Gazelle fall.” Then as they cried for me, I lay down and fell asleep next to Gazelle who was already snoring.
I was shaken awake by the Captain, “Lady Janice, the sun has set and it is raining. My men remain on duty but I would seek your counsel.”
I yawned then said, “Please have your men keep a sharp eye and sharper nose. You can smell these before you see them. Now, I must pee.” And I left for that corner round which we had hung a curtain and I pulled my ample dress up to my waist and availed myself of the chamber-pot. Things were so much easier when I wore pants and could pee standing.
I left the house with the Captain and Gazelle following, me under a parasol with my skirt hiked up to avoid mud, and investigated the area. Each torch had a rain covering to protect it, the ground was wet which would slow the fiends and the soldiers were awake and scared enough to keep watch. I remembered how I had fallen asleep while on watch and so had men visit each in turn to ensure they were all awake. I didn’t expect anything to happen until the rain stopped but I’ve been wrong before.
We then returned to the house and waited, and waited. Gazelle and I played chess, the kids slept in the loft and the soldiers complained about the weather. Those who were Christians were crossing themselves repeatedly. Everything was normal until Gazelle said, “The rain has ended.”
“Make ready, Captain. Now we see if I am as good as you think I am.”
“Archers, to the ready! Slingers, to the ready! Allah, smell that stench!”
From here it became confusing. I had the archers shoot flaming arrows at the torches which flared up and lit the area. The fiends avoided the torches and those ‘safe’ avenues led them into the path of the traps. As they fell and were impaled, the Janissaries threw oil flasks at them which often broke and covered the undead with oil. If the flask didn’t break, they tried again knowing that the third flask would be poured by hand. Then I spoke and the Captain ordered, “Retreat!” and the slingers ran to the house to pick their bows and take positions. The archers were ready and I said, “Give them time to aim Captain.”
“Archers to the ready! Draw, Aim and Hold!” he commanded as they set fire to their arrows.
“At your command Captain,” I whispered and left him to his job. “RELEASE!” he cried and a dozen arrows struck a dozen undead. “Draw and Release!” he cried again and a second dozen struck an instant later. The screaming was hideous and some of the men began to panic when the Captain yelled, “Have at it you piss-brains, DRAW! RELEASE! Draw! Release! Draw! Release! … Retreat! Inside for your souls!”
He need not have worried for the panic was nigh comical. They fought to get inside and when the last was inside, I casually tapped on the door-frame with my katana and asked, “Is there room for me now?” and so I entered a moment before the first fiend reached the house. None of the soldiers would look at me and even the Captain was embarrassed that I, a woman, had remained outside to the last and didn’t panic.
The fiends recognized that there were soldiers here and so kept coming, most still in the uniforms they wore when they had died fighting the fiends with whom they now fought. As arms reached inside, they were hacked off and thrown into the fire-pit to flame up, causing their owner outside to also burn way. The stench was unbearable so I tapped Gazelle and she broke a large hole in the roof to allow the smoke to leave. Fresh air flowed in from the door and windows, as fresh as you could imagine as it passed the dead. But then their numbers became smaller and smaller until there was but one left.
“Captain,” I asked. “Are any of your men of the original soldiers who killed that man and his family? Speak truth for our lives depend on it.”
He looked at me then understood and yelled, “By Allah, if any of you were here at the first or know who was here, tell me NOW!” He looked at his men then said, “Lady Janice, I believe my men are all innocent. I see confusion in their eyes but no guilt.”
“Good! Now who found that man’s grave? Damn! Then we do this the hard way.” I took oil and torch and said, “Pikes to follow, double time!” and I ran out towards the man on the hill. “Surround him but the man who harms him faces me!” And a moment later before he could escape, he was surrounded by pikes, all pointing inward. They were embarrassed that I was the last inside and the first out and tried to recover some of their lost honor by pretending courage, though I knew each was peeing down their legs in terror for what they faced was no longer human. Killed by a soldier who had forced him to watch the group rape of his wife and daughters, knowing that he was helpless, he had sold his soul and eternity to revenge himself on those who he was helpless to stop.
I took a bag and walked around the man just within the circle of pikes, expecting them to raise out of my way and return to ready. As I walked, I poured a fortune in salt around that poor man. I had been helpless when my own family had been killed by the British so I understood his torment. When the circle was complete, I motioned for the pikes to back off which they did gladly. And so I faced him, two tormented people separated by race and nationality but bound by the past.
“I understand your torment for I have nightmares of my own children being killed as were yours. But killing doesn’t bring them back. Killing doesn’t even make them rest easier. Killing only makes more widows and orphans, causes only more pain. Be at rest and know that your loved ones are waiting for you through the Tunnel that lies behind you. Go! Join them and be at peace.” Then I tossed the remaining salt over him and he struggled then fell to lie there dead at last.
I said a prayer for him then lay my cloak over the remains of a man who loved too much. Then I said, “Captain, if you would, please have your men cremate the body then cover the ashes of this poor soul with earth and stones.” Then as he gave the orders, I returned to the house to cry in peace.
When the sun rose, I returned to his grave and planted a sapling that I had dug up in his yard. I cried for him and for his family for a very long time until Gazelle came to me and took me away.