Mara roused, her head aching, her arm aflame. An Acoma soldier was binding it with a torn shred of litter curtain. ‘What . . .’ she began weakly.
Papewaio’s face suddenly loomed over her. ‘My Lady?’
‘What has passed?’ she asked, her voice sounding small.
‘As you hoped, Jidu ordered a withdrawal when his fields were threatened.’ He glanced over his shoulder, where his battered and weary squad stood ready, and said, ‘We are still in danger, but I think you hold the stronger position for the moment. But you need to speak with Jidu, now, before matters turn for the worse.’
Mara shook her head and allowed Papewaio and another soldier to lift her from her litter. Her feet seemed to betray her. She was forced to cling to her Strike Leader’s arm as slowly she made her way over blood-spattered gravel to where her line of remaining soldiers stood. Mara’s vision was blurred. She blinked several times to clear it, and noticed an acrid smell in the air. Smoke from the fired fields drifted like a pall over the estate house.
‘Mara!’ Jidu’s shout was frantic. ‘I propose a truce. Order your men to stand away from my fields and I’ll admit I was wrong in not acknowledging my obligation.’
Mara regarded the fat, anxious man and coldly moved to turn the situation to Acoma advantage. ‘You attacked me without provocation. Did you think, after admitting you were wrong, I would forgive the slaughter of good men for payment of a debt you owe me anyway?’
‘We can settle our differences later,’ cried Jidu, his colour turning florid. ‘My fields burn.’
Mara nodded. Papewaio motioned with his sword point and a soldier sent another signal arrow overhead. Mara tried to speak, but weakness overcame her. She whispered to Papewaio, who shouted, ‘My mistress says our workers will put out the fires. But our men will maintain position with lit torches. Should anything here go amiss, the chocha-la field will be reduced to ashes.’
Jidu’s eyes went feral as he struggled to think of a way an advantage might still be gained. A ragged, smoke-stained runner raced into the dooryard. ‘Master, Acoma soldiers repulse our men. The auxiliaries failed to open a way to the river.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora lost his resolve. Painfully resigned, he sank to his cushions and rubbed his hands on chubby knees. ‘Very well, Mara. I accept the inevitable. We shall abide by your wishes.’ He said to his First Strike Leader, ‘Put up your arms.’
The Lord of the Tuscalora looked on uneasily while Mara shifted her weight to ease her wounded arm. The Lady of the Acoma had refused Jidu’s offer to let his healer tend her; instead she had settled for a field bandage contrived by Papewaio. Acoma soldiers still held position amid the chocha-la and the Tuscalora Force Commander confirmed the worst. The Acoma could fire the field again before they could be forced back.
Jidu sweated and strove desperately to pass the matter off as a misunderstanding. ‘It was an agreement between men, my Lady. I had many wagers with your late husband. Sometimes he won, sometimes I won. We let the sums accumulate, and when I won a bet, the amount was deducted. If later I chanced to gain the advantage, I let the debt ride in turn. It’s . . . a gentleman’s agreement.’
‘Well, I do not gamble, Lord Jidu.’ Mara turned dark, angry eyes upon her unwilling host. ‘I think we shall simply settle for payment . . . and indemnity for the damage done my honour. Acoma soldiers died this day.’
‘You ask the impossible!’ The Lord of the Tuscalora flung pudgy hands in the air in an un-Tsurani-like display of distress.
Mara raised her eyebrows. ‘You still choose not to honour this debt?’ She glanced pointedly towards the Acoma soldiers who clustered close at hand, an archer in their midst ready to launch another signal arrow. Jidu stared at the shell sequins ornamenting his sandals. ‘Ah, my Lady . . . I’m sorry to cause you inconvenience. But threats cannot change the fact that I am unable to honour the debt at this time. Of course, I will meet my obligation in full the instant my circumstances permit. On this you have my uncompromised word.’
Mara sat very still. Her voice held a hard and bitter edge. ‘I am not presently inclined towards patience, Lord Jidu. How soon may I expect payment?’
Jidu looked abashed as he admitted, ‘I have recently suffered personal reversals, Lady Mara. But I can safely promise compensation when this year’s crop goes to market.’