

Warrior Girls

Published by Bill Etem at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Bill Etem

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover art by Katrina Joyner

Table of Contents

Chapter 1. `Let the lowly brother....

Chapter 2. `And in the land were no women found so fair...

Chapter 3. `The Glory of the Gentiles'

Chapter 4. And Moses Stretched out his hand over the sea...

Chapter 5. "Behold the days are coming', says the LORD...

Chapter 6. In that day the LORD will defend the inhabitants of Jerusalem...

Chapter 7. `If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out...

Chapter 8. `Thus says the LORD GOD: `Woe to the women that...hunt souls...

Chapter 9. `The incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit...

Chapter 10. `When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi...

Chapter 11. Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and upon thy holy city...

Chapter 12. `Every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down...

Chapter 13. `The Devil walks about like a roaring lion' - 1 Peter 5. 8

Warrior Girls

Chapter 1. `Let the lowly brother glory in his exaltation, but the rich in his humiliation, because as a flower of the field he will pass away.' - James 1. 9 - 10

A winter's evening was just beginning to turn from the red and gold of sunset to the murk of gathering darkness over the City of Rosen. A lady street-preacher, along with Sevaladelia, the latter being a blonde warrior woman with a lethal sword hanging from her belt, where holding, of all things, a religious discussion. Near to them were many children playing in the street. These kids, ranging from tots to juveniles, were bundled up in warm winter gear, wool and animal furs. Close to the kids was Seraphinaria, a 29-year-old Captain in the Avallonian Army. She turned to her assistant, Mirabrasantes, and said to her: `We want a man for our journey north. I want that slave you see on the block over yonder.'

Mirabrasantes thought it a sound enough selection, not that her superior cared what she thought. Seraphinaria pointed to the slave that she wanted, pointing straight at him out so that Mirabrasantes could make no mistake. He was indeed the same slave that Mirabrasantes had her eye on.

`Take this gold,' said Seraphinaria. `Buy him. Fetch him to me.'

Mirabrasantes was forced to surrender a good deal of gold to the slave-dealers before she finally outbid the other people interested in buying him.

`Name?' asked Mirabrasantes as she led the man who was loaded with chains back to Seraphinaria.

`Al Mancini,' replied Al Mancini.

`You're good looking,' said Mirabrasantes.

`People always say I look just like the young Rock Hudson,' said Al.

`Never heard of Rock Hudson. You're clothes are bizarre,' Mirabrasantes was saying, `I mean aside from all the chains you're loaded with. What gives?'

`Have you heard of parallel universes?' asked Al.

`I should have guessed! We get some odd ducks that come through the portals every so often. We've named our kids after various people that those parallel universe travelers talk so much about. I suppose you're from one of those highly industrialized universes full of busybodies, ivory towers, venal bureaucracies, self-aggrandizing politicians serving self-aggrandizing constituencies, one of those places full of cash-consuming life-destroying military-industrial-complexes.

`Something like that. And now I'm a slave in some pre-internal-combustion-engine universe. Talk about your cruel twists of Fate. Why did you buy me?'

`The boss wants you as a slave, for herself, and for us other girls as well!' said Mirabrasantes with a smile on her face. `You'll be good for morale on a long journey that we have to make. We're going up north, 500 miles or more. The big idea is to recapture a walled city that used to belong to us, to our Kingdom of Avallonia. We want to get fame and riches out of the big bold adventure. We're all sick to death of being poor struggling single moms. So we have devised a plan!'

Four women scrutinized Al as he returned their gaze. Along with the previously described Sevaladelia, the blonde warrior, there was the lady street preacher who Seraphinaria was previously talking to about religion. This street-preacher was bundled up so thoroughly you really couldn't say too much about her description: at least her hair color was a mystery. Gray eyes. Her complexion was sort of nondescript, slightly pock mark I supposed one would have to confess, but there was no other obvious disfigurement. That absence of conspicuous deformity was rare in street preachers. Usually a club foot, a hunchback, a hare-lip, a patch of leprosy, frequent bouts of epilepsy, chronic stuttering, blindness, deafness etc., etc., were to be found in these preacher folk. The warrior class attracted healthier specimens, aside of course from those maimed in battle. You saw lots of women on the streets with one arm, or one leg, not all of them old lady ex warriors either. You saw lots of maimed younger women too of course. It was certainly a female-dominated society. Most of the men were killed off ages ago in incessant warfare. Seraphinaria was a brown-eyed brunette, voluptuous indeed. The street-preacher lady shoved off, sensing she was not going to make any converts today among these warlike folk lost in their sensuality. Now Mirabrantes was fair, lovely to behold with her blonde hair blowing seductively in the languorous yet chilling breeze. All three warrior women were wearing the standard uniform of woolen cloaks over leather jerseys over silk shirts.

`You're not gay are you?' asked Seraphinaria, the leader of the warrior women, in her imperious way.

`When can I get out of these chains?' demanded Al Mancini, after he shook his head in negative fashion to answer her question.

`You look strong, powerful, fleet of foot. We'll have to keep you in chains,' explained Seraphinaria. `We can't have you running off.'

Sevaladelia stayed close to the kids, keeping a watchful an eye on her own kids and the other women's kids to see that they behaved themselves, while the other two warrior women took Al further into the City of Rosen on a shopping errand.

`Here's the famous Alpine shop I was telling you about,' said Seraphinaria, speaking to Al as well as to Mirabrasantes. `We have to buy our gear at this place because we can't count on the Alpine shops further north having what we need. And we don't want to march 500 miles all the way back to here if we don't have to. Since there are glaciers and high mountains that we'll have to negotiate we'll need ropes, jumars, ice-axes, pitons, karabiners, crampons etc.'

They browsed the aisles of the store which sold surplus military paraphernalia, along with skis, winter garments, survivalist gear, hunting and fishing supplies to please the most demanding sportswomen, as well as high-end mountain climbing equipment. The proprietor, a balding, pot-bellied middle-aged man, gave them a cordial greeting but he didn't push himself the way pushy salesmen push.

`Do you think these Helmholtz® pitons and karabiners are worth their exorbitant price?' asked Mirabrasantes.

`O yes indeed,' said the owner of the shop, `though I must protest the suggestion that their price is exorbitant. Though the Helmholtz ironmongery costs a little more, it combines high tensile strength alloy steel, a flawless finish, and the confidence you will have knowing the Helmholtz name means the most exacting quality control standards in the industry. Everything is produced in state-of-the-art factories, and everything is tested and re-tested.

`I'm all for safety, but so often you can be perfectly safe and still keep some cash in your pocket,' said Mirabrasantes.

`Absolutely so. There is equipment which is both safe and less expensive. But the Helmholtz gear, quite simply, never ever never fails. There has never been a confirmed fatality due to the failure of a Helmholtz piton or karabiner. So that counts for something.'

`And what about this Verox Vorax® 9 mm perlon rope? Doesn't it have a high break-rate among climbers in the Karakoram and the Pamirs?' asked Mirabrasantes.

`Oh that's just a statistical anomaly. In the same way, because of some statistical quirk, your low-end priced Nanga Parbat® rope breaks and kills people at an alarming rate in the Bernese Oberland, primarily on the Jungfrau and the Eiger, but less so in the Dolomites, on the Walker, Mont Blanc and the Chamonix Aiguilles. But no statistician or math-literate mountaineer would say the bargain priced Nanga Parbat® line of rope makes a poor purchase for budget-conscious climbers, not at the low low price it is priced at.'

`Do you have 50 meter lengths of the 9 mm perlon Verox Vorax® rope in stock?' asked Seraphinaria.

`Indeed I do,' said the shopkeeper.

`Do you have 50 of those ropes?' asked Mirabrasantes.

`I do. I'll wager you're planning on laying in fixed ropes up the Rupal face,' said the shopkeeper, referring to a huge mountain 70 miles to the south of them.

`Something like that,' said Seraphinaria. We'll take 50 of those 50 meter ropes.'

`Excellent,' said the storekeeper, knowing his profit would be roughly £400 on the deal.

`I know these people who are really down on the Helmholtz gear,' Mirabrasantes was saying, still harping on Helmholtz. `They don't have solid proof, per se, but common on, let's not be naïve. The execs at Helmholtz Inc. must be strongly tempted to cut costs and quality corners. They could keep the retail price sky-high but cut cuts by cutting corners on quality, and thereby reap huge profits. Then after the profiteering execs get better jobs at bigger corporations the Helmholtz gear will cause lots of fatalities.'

`Their reputation,' responded the shopkeeper, `can't get any higher than it is right now, so it would be the perfect time for Helmholtz to cut way back on quality in order to make lots of money. They're only human over there at Helmholtz.'

`As you say they're only human,' said Seraphinaria.

`Now you got me putting two and two together. You got me weighing the probabilities they are cutting corners on quality to maximize profits.'

`The cost of the ropes and the recent purchase of the slave you see over there force us to economize when we purchase pitons, jumars, karabiners etc. And if Helmholtz is going to kill people to maximize profits then to hell with Helmholtz! But to be fair, there is a chance they are not cutting corners on quality to maximize profits. But come on, let's try to be realistic.'

`I'd say he's got enough chains on him,' said the shopkeeper, as he nodded toward Al.

`Bought him 5 minutes ago and he's already itching to get out of those chains,' said Seraphinaria.

`Just bought him, huh? His price tag wasn't exorbitant I hope!'

`He was on the pricey side,' said Seraphinaria, `him being young, tall, dark, handsome, and all that. I expected some sticker shock, but, let me tell you, I paid about all I cared to pay for him.'

`You must be an alien, hey fella?' asked the shopkeeper.

`Yep,' said Al.

`I base my learned conjecture,' said the shopkeeper, `that you are foreign to these parts not from the angry and hostile expression on your face, but from the fact that only aliens can be slaves. I can clue you in to the way we run things if you want.'

`I'm listening,' said Al.

`The menfolk hereabouts were mostly killed off in the wars between Avallonia and our northern enemies. Now it's mostly a warrior girl vs. warrior girl, toothless old fogey-man like me vs. your scrawny wee lad, ancient lady vs. young lass sort of war. Native men of your age who haven't been killed off are extremely rare and are in very high demand as husbands, but that doesn't help you any! Our laws are not so liberal toward aliens. Slavery, as you have learned, perhaps to your shock and dismay, has again become a respected institution among my people. The destruction of the more civilized customs and the nobler impulses has befallen this realm during the recent years of war and rapine, barbarism and brigandage, tumult, moral depravity and license.'

`And what about these Chogolisa® paraffin stoves?' asked Mirabrasantes as she browsed in the camp-stove section of the store. `I know they explode less often than your Mt. Waddinton® stoves, but isn't their added weight prohibitive?'

`I'm not happy about their heft either,' said the storekeeper. `But what can you do? If you buy the heavy stove you're buying something as safe as they come. But if you buy the light one then you're buying something that might blow up in your face and burn your eyes out.'

`And what about the Chogolisa's® reputation for refusing to light up when its 40 degrees below zero?' asked Mirabrasantes. `That's a life or death situation when you can't get the stove fired up and you're freezing in 40 below cold.'

`I suspect a lot of these people who have frozen to death because they couldn't get their Chogolisa's going at minus 40 were drunk. I never have any trouble with it, at least not when I'm sober.'

`All right, we gotta get this gear together, Mirabrasantes,' said Seraphinaria.

`Say, before you go,' said the shopkeeper, `your slave needs a good scrubbing and a shave. If you'd like you can use my tub, I mean, seeing that you're great customers, it's the least I can do. We don't get customers who buy 50 first-rate climbing ropes very often.'

`Splendid,' said Seraphinaria. `He certainly needs a bath and a shave before we show him off to the other girls. We'll take you up on your offer. I'll stay here and collect all the gear that we need, while you, Mirabrasantes, why don't you go with Al and the gentleman to the scrubbing tub. By the time you have Al Mancini presentable to decent society I'll have made a pile of the equipment that we're ready to buy.'

Al followed Mirabrasantes and the store owner to the back of the shop. They stepped through a door and entered a kitchen. The intrusion was rather awkward because the wife of the shopkeeper - a bedraggled woman in her mid 40s, and three juvenile males, were sitting round a table in the kitchen, eating fried chicken. The shopkeeper didn't bother making any introductions, saying merely: `save some of that chicken and some of those mashed potatoes and gravy for me' as the three intruders pushed past the diners seated at the table. The chains on Al rattled conspicuously in the silence of the kitchen and as he was led down a flight of steps to the tub in the basement. There was plenty of cold water but no hot water. The shopkeeper had the decency to put some cold water on a stove to heat it up, to help Al get a clean close shave with little if any bloodletting. Naturally, no one was going to give a razor to a big slave with an angry, hostile look on his face. So, once the water was hot, Mirabrasantes gave Al his shave. When this was done, Al began to unbutton his clothes. The chains on him prevented him from getting out of his clothes though.

`We'll get the chains off you in moment so you can get out of those clothes and get a good scrubbing,' said Mirabrasantes. `Wait here.'

Mirabrasantes then took the shopkeeper upstairs to get some reinforcements.

When the storekeeper and Mirabrasantes came back they also brought the shopkeeper's 3 juvenile sons and Seraphinaria. The two warrior women drew their swords, and the shopkeeper and his 3 sons were each brandishing hammers.

`All right now,' said the shopkeeper, `no tricks from you when we take the chains off, don't try to escape or we'll clobber you with these here swords and hammers.'

Seraphinaria had the key, and she unlocked the chains.

`Don't try anything,' said Seraphinaria.

Once they got the chains off of Al he was able to take off all of his outer garments and underwear, which needed to be either washed or burned. Seraphinaria put one end of a leg chain round Al's ankle and she secured the other end to a water pipe. Mirabrasantes then asked the shopkeeper to help her find some new underwear and new outer garments for Al, to help her clothe Al in woolen and leather garments that would be more appropriate for the cold Avallonian winters then the thin cotton stuff he had been wearing.

Al, being left all alone in the basement, gave himself a few rounds of soaping up and rinsing off while he waited for his captors to return. And while he was lathering up and rinsing off he heard some creaking on the stairs. The shopkeeper's wife was sneaking down to the basement to have a peek at the naked Al Mancini. She didn't say too much as she stared at the well-muscled stranger.'

`I brought ye some chicken meat in case ye was hungry,' said the woman. She put the chicken on the side of the tub and then retreated back up the stairs. Al wanted to devour the meat quickly. It might be that the shopkeeper or Mirabrasantes would not want to see him eating, because he knew slave-masters could be capricious, and of course they could be cruel, and he was in no great position to defend himself from blows, as his ankle was still bound to a chain. If his captors became unreasonable, if they didn't like looking at him while he ate the chicken, they might slap him around. He obviously didn't want to be beaten by unreasonable masters. He could strangle a mean slave-master even while loaded with chains if he was left alone with one. But Al was not a cruel or violent man. He knew he could bide his time and escape without having to strangle anyone. He hurried the whole dining procedure, making it into a barbaric procedure. He quickly tore the chicken with his finders and then stuffed the meat between his mashing jaws and sucked the semi-chewed mass down his throat before Mirabrasantes and the shopkeeper returned. When his dinner had all been shoved into his mouth and dragged down his throat, he looked about the tub and found some perfumed bath oil. It smelled good so he rubbed some of it all over his arms and chest and shoulders. Then he rinsed it off with cold water. His skin was now extremely feminine in its fragrance. Al didn't have time to lather up with un-scented soap and then rinse off again because he heard lots of footsteps above him. Then the stairs were resounding with thuds. Al Mancini, stripped of every last bit of clothing from his body, was especially self-conscious at the moment, because 6 other people were staring at him, staring at his at glistening naked aromatic skin which was as feminine and as fragrant as a bouquet of flowers, because of that bottle of perfumed bath oil he had been playing with.

`He smells like a high-priced prostitute,' said one of the juveniles while his brothers laughed.

The sweet-smelling Al didn't lunge at anyone or try to make a break for the stairs. He just put on his new underwear and his new woolen outer garments, and then they put the old chains on him again, while all the time he was under the prying scrutiny of these 6 people armed with swords and hammers. Then it was up the stairs, through the kitchen, through the store, and out into the street.

Chapter 2. `And in the land were no women found so fair as the daughters of Job' - Job 42. 15

`Do you see that group of beautiful female warriors coming this way?' asked Seraphinaria

`Yes,' said Al.

`Those are my subalterns, all 7 of them, and as Mirabrasantes has told you we're going up to the north country to take back a walled town that was stolen from Her Majesty Queen Brittany Cohen-Schwartz. You might meet her some day. Just address as her Rabbi Brittany, or just Queen Brittany - she's both a monarch and a rabbi, though not every sect in Judaism has given their stamp of approval to Rabbi Brittany's version of Judaism. She is not insulted if you address her as "Your Majesty" should you insist on formality, but she prefers you stand on informality. The honorifics "the Beautiful" and the "Benevolent" and "the Most Merciful" in her formal title are twisted by our enemies into foul sarcasm, but you just have to consider the source, her enemies will hate her as long as she refuses to kowtow to their platforms and policies. I'm saying all this because, as you say, you look like the young Rock Hudson - whoever that is – I suppose someone who is tall, dark and handsome - and I suspect she'll want to meet you. But we got you for now and we'll try to keep you with us and away from Her Majesty Queen Brittany Cohen-Swartz. We don't want her to take you from us. I suppose you would be far better off with her than with us, as she lives in a sumptuous palace, and we are struggling single moms having a tough time finding fame and fortune in this world. Anyway, to get to the first thing on the agenda - the second thing on the agenda is the conquest of a fortified city, which will be executed by subterfuge and cunning - but the first thing on the agenda is simply getting to this walled city - and this involves hiking across 500 miles of lowland country, and then crossing 50 miles of high mountains. If we need some brute strength to aid us then we might ask you for some help. You might win your freedom and some gold if you help us. I can't promise anything. So you're invited to come along with Mirabrasantes, and me, and my troop of female warriors. Not that you can refuse our offer! As I believe Mirabrasantes and that shopkeeper have explained to you, it will be good for company morale to have you with us. Everyone knows a healthy girl likes to share her blankets with a tall, dark and handsome man once in awhile! You'll do. And a word to the wise - my soldiers and I want some affection from you - especially now that you're smelling all fresh and perfumed with that bath oil you got into. It's driving me crazy! I want to cuddle up with you so bad! So it would be a big waste of my time, a big waste of my money and my patience if you turned out to be unfriendly. That wouldn't be good for company morale, so you better not be unfriendly, Al Mancini.'

`How's their breath?' asked Al. Then he thought that he probably ought to add a few words as the custom seemed to give speeches when conversing. `Have you people invented the toothbrush yet? I don't like bad breath.'

`Let's not get off on the wrong foot,' said Seraphinaria.

`Yes, let's not get off on the wrong foot,' said Al.

`But let's get on with the introductions,' said Seraphinaria. `You and Mirabrasantes are old friends by now, and over here we have...'

`Wait,' said Mirabrasantes. `I'll give Al the Company Roster.'

`Righto,' said Seraphinaria.

Mirabrasantes handed Al a few sheets of paper which read:

Company Roster. (Version 1.13)

Seraphinaria - Commanding Officer

29 years of age, Captain in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian nobleman / cavalry officer, mother of boy (10-year-old, Jackson), girl (5-year-old, Morgan) and boy (3-year-old, Jay-Jay).

Valmyristarsis,

25, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (7-year-old, Heather), boy (6-year-old, Hugh ) and boy (3-year-old, Hamilton, aka Buddy).

Casilevatates,

26, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (7-year-old, Jacqueline), girl (5-year-old, Camille).

Mirabrasantes,

27 Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian lawyer / army officer, mother of girl (8-year-old, Marla), boy (7-year-old, Brent).

Navorrasicaa,

27, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian army officer, mother of girl (7-year-old, Barb), boy (4-year-old, Curt).

Misevasundia,

27, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian businessman / army officer, mother of girl (9-year-old, Shelby), girl (5-year-old, Mercedes).

Sevaladelia,

29, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian beer and spirits salesman, mother of girl (11-year-old, Desiree), girl (9-year-old, Delilah), boy (5-year-old, Dante).

Heliomirabellisima,

28, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (9-year-old, Kayla), girl (5-year-old, Guilia).

Martha Manning,

37 (alleged), Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, alien (confirmed), parallel universe traveler (alleged), single woman with no kids (alleged).

Luke, A Wonderful Little Orphan Boy (9).

Jasmine, A Beautiful Little Orphan Girl (7).

Jocelyn, A Gorgeous Little Orphan Girl (5).

Guide to pronunciation: Ser-ah-fee-NAR-ee-ah, Meer-ah-brah-SAN-tees, Nav-ohr-rah-SICK-a-ah, Mis-eh-vah-SUN-dee-ah, Seh-vah-la-DEE-lee-ah, Hee-lee-oh-meer-ah-bel-EEE-see-mah, MAR-tha MAN-ing, Val-my-ris-TAR-sis, Cah-sil-eh-vah-TAH-tees.

After Al had a moment to study the Company Roster, Seraphinaria introduced Al to her subalterns, to these female warriors who were more or less in their primes, that is they were all under the age of 30. Except for one who was at least 50 years old, and rather plain in the looks department, Al was pleased to see that all of the others were very cute and some were quite striking.

`It says here, on the Company Roster,' said Al Mancini, `That there is a Martha Manning who claims that she, like me, is also a traveler from a parallel universe.'

`That's me! I'm Martha!' said Martha Manning. `Wow, you look just like the young Rock Hudson.'

`That's what everyone says,' replied Al. `But it says here that you, Martha Manning, an alien, are a Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army. Does Avallonia let slaves be lieutenants in her army?'

`But I'm not a slave!' said Martha.

`As the shopkeeper was saying, there was a change in the laws a few years back,' began Mirabrasantes. `At first aliens were not to be alienated from their inalienable right to their Liberty, at least not under the Old Laws. But now, under the New Laws, aliens are deprived of their Liberty - as the exigencies of incessant warfare necessitate that we take no chances with these aliens, as many of them have turned out to be enemy spies. Yes, there is a faction in Avallonia, among the more reactionary Conservative circles - the Liberals have always been opposed slavery - who agitate to have aliens, who have been granted their liberty, to be grandfathered in under the new laws, and reduced to slavery. But there is also strong opposition in Avallonia, even in Conservative circles, to not have them grandfathered in.'

`So, Martha and me are both aliens, but I'm a slave and she is free?' questioned Al with some incredulity.

`Precisely! Now you've got it,' said Seraphinaria.

`But that's not fair,' exclaimed Al.

`Well, do you want me to be made a slave just to make if fair?' demanded Martha Manning.

`I want my freedom too! And I think there should be one law for all of us aliens,' insisted Al.

`That's not the way it works here,' said Martha. `The aliens who were here prior to 3 years ago haven't been grandfathered in under the new laws. We have not been forced into servitude. So that's good for me but it's tough for you! So stop your bitching and moaning and accept it.'

`I see you lied about your age. Anyone can see you're closer to 77 than 37.'

`Oh You!' exclaimed Martha. `Let's return him and get our money back.'

They humored Al with more pleasant conversation while they brought a huge wagon with 4-axles and which had 4 enormous work horses harnessed to it, over to the shop to collect the ropes and climbing gear. This huge wagon, over forty feet long, was already loaded with provisions – loaded with no end of sacks of oats for the horses and sacks of flour for the humans, along with 200 bags of sugar, 50 bottles of olive oil, 40 sacks of coffee, and no end of sacks of dried fish, smoked fish, dried beef, dried apples, dried figs, dried apricots; many cans of: tomatoes, pears, peas, soup; enormous bags of rice and potatoes; barrels of salt, 100 bottles of bourbon, 100 bottles of brandy, 100 bottles of gin, 1,000 bottles of tonic water, 200 pounds of chocolate, canned mangos; no end of cans of condensed milk, of coconut milk etc., etc. They would have to find room on the wagon for all their recent purchases of ropes, stoves and ironmongery, and the wagon was already loaded with jugs of kerosene, tents, and all their bows, arrows, swords, shields, cross-bows, leather breeches and leather jerseys, silk underwear, lacy under garments, silk stockings, huge piles of thick woolen garments: trousers, sweaters, socks; thick wool cloaks, huge wind-proof canvas cloaks with immense hoods; silk scarves; flannel scarves; sheepskin mittens; piles of wool blankets and eider down comforters etc. And surrounding them, as they made their way to the Alpine store, wind their way through the streets of Rosen, were no less than 22 children running hither and thither, and ranging in age from toddlers to youngsters not yet in their teens.

`Welcome, Al Mancini. I'm Navorrasicaa,' said the beautiful dark-haired Navorrasicaa. `As you can see on the Company Roster, we have three orphan kids, but most of these children surrounding us are the sons and daughters of the warrior women you see here. The fathers of these children, our deceased husbands or boy-friends, were all slain in the northern wars.'

`No, No, No!' exclaimed Sevaladelia with no end of exasperation in her voice. `You'll get your guts ripped out of you in half a second if the Hibernians hear you pronounce it "SED-yool". You have to pronounce it as "SKED-yool". SKED! SKED! You have ZERO down pretty well though - that's good that you don't say ZED anymore - and you're ok at saying RemONstrate and not saying REM-on-strate.' Sevaladelia was trying to teach the orphan boy, Luke, how to pronounce some key words. He was useless at learning to pronounce words the way the Hibernians pronounced them - the Hibernians being the bitterest enemies of the Kingdom of Avallonia - but if they could teach Luke how to pronounce words the way an ally of the Hibernians, the Krull, pronounced them, then Luke could masquerade as a Krull refugee, and hence the Hibernians would admit him into the walled city which the warrior girls were intent on conquering, as the Hibernian policy was to aid Krull refugees. And then, on some dark moonless night, Luke could find some place on the high stone wall surrounding the city, some place hidden from sight from any soldiers and sentries, where he could let down a rope which would give Seraphinaria and her soldiers access to this walled city. They were shooting for the night of the new moon after the next new moon, roughly 7 weeks away, and the plan was to get Luke into the walled city before that time, to give him enough time to find a rope without being observed. Whether Luke let down a rope from atop the wall on that night or the night of the following new moon, or even on some later night, was of no great importance, though sooner is often better than later. But he had to find a rope in the city, and he had to find it while avoiding suspicion and detection, and he had to get Seraphinaria and her soldiers over the wall so that they could use the advantage of surprise to subdue about 200 women of various ages and maybe 5 old men who were holding the city. They had to get control of the gate and the guard house, and barricade themselves until the Avallonian Army arrived. Fame and wealth would follow if they could re-conquer this walled city. Even with the element of surprise the whole operation was a long-shot. This walled city was formerly called, before the conquest, Cromwell Town, though of course the Avallonians still called it Cromwell Town, refusing to call it the new name which the Hibernians gave it \- Cúchulainn. And Queen Brittany the Beautiful, the Benevolent etc., etc., would reward them handsomely if they re-conquered Cromwell Town for Avallonia. But Luke had to get his pronunciations right if he was to have any chance at being successful in masquerading as a Krull refugee. He had to get the pronunciations right or else the Hibernians would discover he was a spy, and then they would torture him to make him talk, to make him explain if he has some comrades hidden outside of the wall who were trying to re-conquer the city for Avallonia, provided they didn't act on immediate impulse and rip open his guts with a dagger as soon as they discovered he was an Avallonian spy. But Luke was a rather limited 9-year-old lad, rather limited upstairs, and he was having a hellish time trying to remember how the Krull pronounced certain words, and no doubt the thought that torture and death awaited him if he made a mistake only put more pressure on him, and perhaps he wasn't so great at handling pressure. The orphan girl Jasmine and the orphan Jocelyn were too young and confused to keep a story straight. Indeed, there was some discussion of training Casilevatates' precocious eldest daughter to do the job. But here the danger was she would botch things via over-confidence, because Casilevatates' precocious eldest daughter, Jacqueline, might be too smart for her own good, and her over-confidence might betray her. If the Hibernians vetting her ever got the impression that she was highly intelligent then they would become highly suspicious if they sensed she was playing dumb. Luke seemed to be their best bet because he was a brave and level-headed lad, and he might even be tough enough to withstand some torture if he had to, to convince his tormentors he was a Krull and not an Avallonian, and, honestly, how difficult could it be too remember how to say SKED-yool, and ZERO and TohMAYtoh etc?

`Nine summers have come and gone since that day when I crawled out of my dead mother's belly,' said the orphan boy, Luke, a nice-looking, blonde-haired lad. He was addressing everyone in general but Al Mancini in particular, `and ever since my life has been full of anguish and woe.'

`I can well imagine,' responded Al Mancini as he began to slip into the lingo of his environs, `that the cold unaffectionate nature of orphanages and the horrors of an endless war would cause no end of anguish and tribulation.'

`Nay, it was none of that, rather it is these damn schoolmasters and their damned insistence that I learn to read and write and pronounce foreign languages that I hate most.'

`Cheer up, kid. At least you have your freedom, unlike me. There aren't any chains on you. You never know where you might find your vocations and your avocations,' Al was rambling on some. `The schoolmasters have to push kids to learn lots of things.'

`These widow women just want to cuddle up with you on the long winter nights because you look just like the young Rock Hudson - whoever that is - so what are you complaining about? I saw you staring at Sevaladelia. She's wondrously beautiful isn't she?' asked Luke.

They decamped from the street level and climbed the stairs to the top of the huge stone walls which encircled the city of Rosen. They would sleep under the stars atop the wall and be ready to aid the sentries should the enemy attack. The sun had set but a full moon was rising in the east as the 32 of them strolled along the walkway atop the wall. Leaning over the parapet at one point, Seraphinaria was pointing out to Al where a company of 20 huge Hibernian warriors and Viking mercenaries would camp every night. They would stay up half the night hurling obscene insults at the women sentries atop the wall, telling them how they would rape them and how they would do other nasty things to them when they captured the city. One night the barbarians got drunk and then most of them made an attempt to the scale the walls with ropes and grappling hooks. Seraphinaria watched as at least 15 of them got high up their scaling ladders and close to the top of the wall before the sentries let them have it with the kerosene guns. These were only accurate within a range of 10 feet, but once the enemy was within 10 feet they could be doused with kerosene and set aflame. That night was soon rent with the screams of the barbarians being turned into human torches as they were burned alive. But tonight none of the enemy was in sight. The serene evening was interrupted by neither screaming barbarians nor by sentries blasting trumpets. The 30 women and children - they made 32 with Martha and Al - for several months now, had been going for long hikes atop the wall circling the city. They had to get the kids well-exercised and ready to walk long distances. Tomorrow they would begin their march 500 miles to the north. And for many of the kids tomorrow would be the first day in their lives that they would live without any protective walls surrounding them. It was therefore a terrifying night for these youngsters, because living without walls was a terrifying thing to contemplate. All of these kids had witnessed, at first hand, just how obscene and frightful and barbaric the enemy could be. And they had all watched as the 15 barbarians were burned alive. Even a little kid can understand the concepts of `the horrors of war' and the `possibility of revenge'. And even a little kid can understand how he might be burned alive or torn limb from limb if there aren't any huge walls to separate himself from the enemy.

`Mommy I'm scared,' said Giulia, Heliomirabellisima's youngest daughter.

`You're too old to call me mommy. Call me mom or ma. Scared, why are you scared?'

`What if a big mean man or a nasty woman tries to get me tomorrow when we don't have the walls to protect us?' asked Giulia.

`What were you learning in school last year?' asked Heliomirabellisima. `Now look. Say a man wants to hurt you. All you have to do is pretend that you will obey him. Then you slash his throat or stab your dagger deep into his guts when you get an opportunity. Don't try to cut his hands with your knife. Don't try to slash his groin. Those are not kill shots. Go for the kill shot! Go for the throat or the gut or the temple. Stabbing him in the eye isn't a bad option either, but usually the gut shot is your best option. The eye is a small target but the gut is big and impossible to miss, so just stab him in the gut and then twist the knife like I taught you.'

`The schools these days don't teach kids the basics anymore,' said Navorrasicaa. `I had to teach my oldest one how to gouge eyes, how to make poison that couldn't be detected in wine, ale and mead, how to handle the flaming kerosene gun etc. The schools will teach a kid how to use the crossbow and the longbow, and a maybe little hand-to-hand combat, but they do a very poor job teaching kids new skills and how to apply the old skills the kids have already learned.'

`Oh, I know! these schools!,' said Casilevatates. `I had to speak to this one idiot who was misleading my kid. My littlest one came home from school the other day, and she was like: "Mommy, Mommy, the teacher says if some big hairy man is hurting me, I should stab him anywhere I can." Then, my daughter told the teacher that I said she had to stab her dagger into his gut - and twist it good - or drive her dagger deep into the soft part of his temple, just above the ear and toward the forehead, and then stir his brains some by twisting the knife. But then the teacher tells my girl that I'm wrong, and then my girl tells the teacher she is wrong, and then the teacher says I'm wrong, and then my girl tells the teacher that she is an idiot, and then of course the teacher got mad at that. So I had to go find that idiot teacher and set her straight about kill shots.'

`Some of these teachers are just plain uneducated,' said Valmyristarsis.

`Those who can, do, and those who can't, teach,' said Navorrasicaa.

`Yep,' said Seraphinaria.

The troop, all 32 of them including Al ended their stroll and set up their bed rolls either on the walkway atop the wall or atop an adjoining buttress supporting the wall. The level top of this buttress was roughly 20 foot by 20 foot, and it came with a fire pit and stacks of firewood. Here they would roast their steaks and turkey legs, and cook their potatoes, and drink their beer, while the full moon rose in the east, while the stars shone overhead. In former weeks the women would switch off every hour on sentry duty, because at least 1 from their company had to be on duty throughout the night. But in this last week before their departure the garrison commander released them from this duty, provided they slept atop the wall and were ready to help the sentries if the sentries blew the alarm. A cold wind was blowing out of the north as they huddled round the fire, wearing their cloaks and wrapped up in their eiderdown comforters and wool blankets to stay warm. As their steaks and turkey legs grilled over the flames, Al drank the cold beer which was handed to him in a stainless steel goblet by one of the children. He looked on while some of the older children prepared the gravy for the turkey and the potatoes. Al said he would have cranberries with his turkey and potatoes and gravy, when asked by the 4-year-old Curt, Navorrasicaa's youngest, for his order. Al wasn't terribly hungry after devouring the chicken earlier, but when some appetizers in the form of strips of grilled steak marinated in lemon juice, along with a pile of asparagus tips were offered he didn't refuse. Who knew if famine would strike him down as he marched north with the women and their kids? He knew he better stuff himself now because he might have some lean times ahead. So Al sat on his blankets and followed the fashion of everyone else, kids included. They held their stainless steel goblets full of cold beer in their left hands and they held huge turkey legs or sliced pieces of steak in their right hands. It was so cute to see the little 3 and 4-year-olds holding their turkey legs or their cuts of steak in one hand and their little goblets full of cold beer in the other. They could have water if they insisted, but pure water was something of a luxury, or at least there was much more potable beer than there was potable water in the City of Rosen. Al admired the manners of the little kids. They calmly and slowly put their goblets down on the stone buttress when they needed to reach for the salt or for a napkin, and they just put everything down in precise fashion when they reached for their forks and for their plates which were heaped with potatoes and gravy and sugar-sweetened cranberries. A certain amount of military discipline had to be used to teach the kids to wipe their fingers on napkins not on their cloaks, as these were the children of civilized warrior women not barbarian warrior women.

Chapter 3. `The Glory of the Gentiles'

`Has anyone else heard this rumor,' asked Shelby, the eldest daughter of Misevasundia, directing her query at no one in particular, `about a scheme of Queen Brittany's? The rumor says the queen wants the school teachers to sign a form, a form in which they pledge that they will not sit on the fence and they will not hem and haw any longer on the question of the antipodes: they must sign a form saying antipodes do not exist and the world is most assuredly a flat earth, not a round or spherical sort of planet. Death by decapitation would result for those who refused to sign the form. I think the scheme is just a rumor invented by her enemies - as many people are jealous of Brittany the Beautiful, the Benevolent, the Most Merciful Queen etc., etc. Still, if the scheme was true - though it is obviously false! - then it is a cold-blooded attempt to destroy the round-earthers, a brazen attempt to impose flat-earth philosophy on everyone, with the ultimate end that, presumably, eventually, everyone will have to sign some sort of form saying that we will obey everything that Queen Brittany the Beautiful, the Benevolent, the Most Merciful etc., etc., orders us to think and believe, and we will have to obey every order she commands of us. So, there are two burning questions enveloping the Kingdom of Avallonia at the moment, Al Mancini, just to keep you in the know about the current state of things in the Kingdom: is the rumored scheme just a worthless falsehood? And, just in case push came to shove, just in case you had to make a choice: how far are you willing to go in obeying the commands of Queen Brittany? Are you willing to make a slave of yourself? I mean that question doesn't really pertain to you Al, as you're already a slave – everyone knows that for goodness sakes! - but to those of us who are free it is a burning question.'

`There's a speech,' exclaimed Al.

`That rumor is a lie. It's plot to besmirch Queen Brittany,' said Seraphinaria.

There was a long silence, or at least it seemed like a long silence, because no one spoke for a few minutes.

`I had been reading, before I came through the portal,' Al Mancini began to say, to break the awkward silence, `that though there is some evidence to suggest the earth is round, nevertheless, truth be told, modern science has confirmed that the overwhelming weight of the evidence proves that the earth is flat.'

Al was telling either blatant falsehoods, or blatant truths, you decide. Perhaps he was angry about being a slave and angry at the levity with which the free people around him treated his slave condition. Perhaps he thought he would mess with them, by teaching crap to them, and yet insist he was teaching them the truth.

`You're full of it,' said Martha Manning to Al.

`Well anyone with eyes in his head can see the world is flat! If it was round we would all slide off,' said Al.

`Martha is certainly a fool, as I have long known,' said Mirabrasantes. `She's also a liar. And since she refuses to fight me she is a weakling and a coward.'

`Why should I fight a younger stronger woman? Why am I a coward for not wanting to get killed?' asked Martha.

`You come from a world which has no regard for honor, valor, courage and warrior strength. Yours is a race of pleasure-seeking round-earth morons,' replied Mirabrasantes.

`And you,' began Sevaladelia, `are arrogant, cruel, ignorant and bloodthirsty. You think you know everything. You know the earth is flat. You know that those of us who profess belief in antipodes and a spherical earth are deranged fools and blind fanatics,' said Sevaladelia.

`I don't recall saying you were blind fanatics!' said Mirabrasantes. You are deranged fools certainly, but blind fanatics is being far too generous to idiot round earthers.

Al, seeking to get off the tedious subject, was telling Mirabrasantes that she reminded him of various heroes and heroines from his universe. He was trying to explain to her what is meant by the term `movie star,' telling Mirabrasantes that she had `star power' and tons of it. Lots of the warrior women were interested in this star power and wanted it for themselves. Al was telling them about a philosopher, name of Christopher Hitchens, who said Mel Gibson was a "ham actor". `To say, said Al, `the star of Mad Max, The Road Warrior, and Beyond Thunder Dome is a ham actor is just more impiety from Hitchens, if you want my opinion. Sure, he became a `ham actor' in `Lethal Weapon' – who needs to see Mel Gibson's naked white butt in that trailer he had parked in Hermosa Beach, or maybe it was Redondo – but give the guy his due. He was a big-time movie star in his 20s and 30s. Look at Thunderdome – you bust a deal you face the wheel. Two men enter one man leaves. And Gibson never played a gangster, at least not that I can recall. You wouldn't think so, but it's easier to impress audiences by playing a bad guy than it is by playing a good guy. This is because we live in the Age of the Anti-Hero. What was Pacino's best role? Either Michael Corleoni or Tony Montana. In Scarface he was a kinder gentler sort of gangster because he refused to murder that guy with the wife and kids. And then he blew the brains out of that really nasty villain. Look at John Rambo. If he didn't go psycho and blow up that hick-town after that hick-town sheriff drew first-blood, what sort of protagonist would John Rambo have been? A boring protagonist. Arnold played a cyborg-killer from the future sent to kill a hero that didn't exist yet in Terminator. The cyborg-killer from the future was not the hero of that film, it was that chick who was destined to be the mother of the hero - but it was Arnold, the cyborg-killer from the future - who carried that film. Who wants a goody-two-shoes version of Charlie Sheen? You want him doing insider trading deals and working as a corporate spy who's feeding valuable info to Gordon Gecko. And when did Michael Douglas ever achieve more cinematic brilliance than what he achieved in Wall Street? So, I think I've proven my case rather convincingly in contending that we live in the Epoch of the Anti-Hero, an anti-hero being someone who can't be squeaky clean, he must have some flaws, but he can't be evil either. Audiences won't cheer for a villain, though villains can carry movies, but they don't like squeaky-clean either.'

`But we weren't talking about heroes or anti-heroes. We were talking about slanders against Queen Brittany. How far should we go in obeying her, in your opinion, Al Mancini?' asked Heliomirabellisima.

`I don't like to impose my opinions on people,' said Al.

`Why not?' asked Martha Manning. `Are you a slave in that way also?'

Martha was obviously still pissed at Al for that crack he made earlier about her being closer in age to 77 than 37.

`Look at religion. Any fool can see it is all a big sham, pompous bastards forcing us to believe the world is flat when any damn fool can see it is a spheroid,' said Heliomirabellisima.

`You're preaching treason,' said Mirabrasantes. `The priestly, civilian and military authorities have authorized our religion. Her Majesty the Queen is God's supreme representative on earth. Therefore you are a dirty Judas traitor who can go to hell, Heli, because you rebel against God and Queen Brittany.'

There was another long silence after Mirabrasantes delivered her impassioned speech.

`Do you recall if that woman who came through the portal said where she was from?' asked Al Mancini, while ignoring or trying to smooth over the vehemence of Mirabrasantes' orotory.

`Chicago,' replied Heliomirabellisima. `And she was convinced that some sort of portal flew open for a second or two, at daybreak, at the corner of Cicero and Bloomingdale, at the precise moment when Jupiter became aligned with Mars and Mercury.'

`Ditto that for me, only Venus was aligned with Earth and Saturn. I came through that same portal a few years back,' said Martha Manning. She said this as she watched as Mirabrasantes, after hearing the word Venus, reach for Al's hand, letting him know she wanted to sleep with him that night. Al didn't brush Mirabrasantes' hand away.

`And I came through a portal at the corner of La Cienega and Santa Monica,' said Al Mancini. `That's in a city called Los Angeles – The Angeles. I tried to find work as an actor but couldn't cut it. No luck for me. The stars didn't line up for me as an actor. No guardian angel pulling any strings for moi. But perhaps 3 or more planets were aligned with each other when I came through the portal.'

`We have astrologers who can research it,' said Misevasundia.

`Say Al, began Martha, `you do look exactly like the young Rock Hudson, and that's your whole problem. Audiences don't want to look at you in feature films, because it's creepy to look at someone who looks literally exactly like the young Rock Hudson. - and I don't mean figuratively literally exactly, I meant literally literally exactly.'

`I suppose so,' replied Al.

`Or perhaps God just doesn't like you!' joked Heliomirabellisima. `Perhaps it is Queen Brittany's God who has put a curse on you?'

`I can't believe I have to listen to all this impiety,' said the pious Sevaladelia.

`I've just been handed an amended version of our Company Roster,' announced Seraphinaria. `Thanks to those of you who helped get this new and improved version put together so quickly.'

Seraphinaria passed out a copy to everyone in the outfit, to the kids included. This new version read:

Company Roster. (Version 1.14)

Seraphinaria - Commanding Officer

29 years of age, Captain in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian nobleman / cavalry officer, mother of boy (10-year-old, Jackson), girl (5-year-old, Morgan) and boy (3-year-old, Jay-Jay).

Valmyristarsis,

25, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (7-year-old, Heather), boy (6-year-old, Hugh ) and boy (3-year-old, Hamilton, aka Buddy).

Casilevatates,

26, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (7-year-old, Jacqueline), girl (5-year-old, Camille).

Mirabrasantes,

27 Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian lawyer / army officer, mother of girl (8-year-old, Marla), boy (7-year-old, Brent).

Navorrasicaa,

27, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian army officer, mother of girl (7-year-old, Barb), boy (4-year-old, Curt).

Misevasundia,

27, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian businessman / army officer, mother of girl (9-year-old, Shelby), girl (5-year-old, Mercedes).

Sevaladelia,

29, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, widow of a former Avallonian beer and spirits salesman, mother of girl (11-year-old, Desiree), girl (9-year-old, Delilah), boy (5-year-old, Dante).

Heliomirabellisima,

28, Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, single mom, mother of girl (9-year-old, Kayla), girl (5-year-old, Guilia).

Martha Manning,

37 (alleged), Lieutenant in the Avallonian Army, alien (confirmed), parallel universe traveler (alleged), single woman with no kids (alleged).

Luke, A Wonderful Little Orphan Boy (9).

Jasmine, A Beautiful Little Orphan Girl (7).

Jocelyn, A Gorgeous Little Orphan Girl (5).

Guide to pronunciation: Ser-ah-fee-NAR-ee-ah, Meer-ah-brah-SAN-tees, Nav-ohr-rah-SICK-ay-ah, Mis-eh-vah-SUN-dee-ah, Seh-vah-la-DEE-lee-ah, Hee-lee-oh-meer-ah-bel-EEE-see-mah, MAR-tha MAN-ing, Val-my-ris-TAR-sis, Cah-sil-eh-vah-TAH-tees.

Slave(s):

Al Mancini. 27 (alleged). Very good-looking. Excellent teeth. Good complexion. Excellent physique. Argumentative personality. Rebellious to authority. Hold / Sell? Hold for now.

Exhortation to Al Mancini:

Dear Al, please contemplate the following scriptures:

1) I Timothy 6. 3 - 7: `If anyone teaches otherwise...he is proud, knowing nothing, but is obsessed with disputes and arguments over words, from which come envy, strife, reviling, evil suspicions, useless wranglings of men of corrupt minds and destitute of the truth...From such withdraw yourself.'

2) Al, recall St. Paul's words - `Now I plead with ye, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that ye all speak the same thing, that there be no divisions among ye.' - I Cor. 1. 10.'

3) Hebrews 12. 7 - 14: "If you endure chastening, God deals with you as with sons...Now no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless, afterwards it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness...pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord."

Al, we have a "hold" assessment on you for now, but we must see improvement in your demeanor - and hopefully this letter of chastening will lead to peaceable fruit from you in the future. Earlier you argued with Martha and were quite rude to her, attacking her viciously on the issue of her age. You also implied that our laws pertaining to slavery are bad and evil laws. You were also messing with us by saying the earth is flat when everyone knows the earth is round. You can mess with us a little bit but not on some stuff. Please be less argumentative - don't argue so with Martha and everyone else - don't say or imply the laws of Avallonia are bad laws - These laws have been sanctioned by Her Majesty Queen Brittany, and she is The Supreme Representative on earth of God and God's True Church - So please don't rebel against God's Supreme Representative on earth and against God's True Church! - Please don't be contentious and obsessed with disputes and arguments over words, or else we will have to withdraw ourselves from your presence, by selling you.

\- Seraphinaria, Company Commander.'

The kids who had just received Company Roster (Version 1.14) were now giving Al strange looks. The kids were all asking lots of questions among themselves: just how rebellious to authority was this slave, Al Mancini? And, would they soon move from a "hold" to a "sell" position with him? And, as there was absolutely nothing wrong with his face and complexion, the poor grade given him - merely a "good complexion" - when he deserved a rating of either "excellent" or at the least "very good", seemed an ominous portent. Even the little kids could see that that low rating was due simply to the ill-will generated by his argumentative and rebellious personality.

Martha looked at Al, still loaded with all his heavy chains. He face was crest-fallen from the chastening of the remarks he had received on his first fitness report. He cuddled close to the beautiful Mirabrasantes and the lovely Misevasundia, yet he still looked crest-fallen.

`Don't feel bad, Al' said Heliomirabellisima. `That report card is not your last. There will be others. You'll do better.'

Chapter 4. And Moses Stretched out his hand over the sea; and the LORD caused the sea to go back...And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon the dry ground; and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand, and on their left. - Exodus 14. 21-2.

32 people made their exodus from the City of Rosen right on schedule. Other single moms, who were serving as watchmen atop the walls, could find no enemy in sight, and so the gates of the city were thrown open an hour after sunrise. The four huge Percheron horses pulled the massive wagon loaded with provisions and climbing gear, weaponry and warm clothing through the gates. Even the kids who were 5 years old or younger declined to ride on the wagon, which was being driven by Valmyristarsis. Everyone knew she had to hike it to further harden her muscles to survive in the wilderness. Everyone was staring at a long hike, including Al, who was now liberated from his chains. The thinking here in releasing him from the chains was that he would not run off and escape, because he would not want to face the wilderness alone, penniless, unarmed and unsure of where he would find his next meal. Plus he was well treated by the beautiful warrior women. Why would a sane man run away?

A few catcalls ushered them through the main gate - comments such as - `You idiots are marching off to your deaths,' and, `If I said it a thousand times I'll say it again, you see here a collection of brainless single moms leading a bunch of brainless kids to early graves.' These sorts of comments were the general themes of these comments made by the loitering critics and opinionated bystanders, but there were some positive comments as well. Who knows if these were sincere or not? Perhaps everyone thought they were fools, but perhaps some were merciful enough to offer `the fools' some encouragement.

The road before them bisected a vast barren plain which was more or less flat and treeless save for some wooded hills far in the distance. In or beyond these hills one had to assume there might lurk bands of enemy warriors, or perhaps gangs of wandering brigands, and so the plan was to spend most of their time - when they were forced to travel on the open prairie, with no trees to conceal their advance \- traveling at night and laying low and hiding out as best they could during the daylight hours.

Seraphinaria turned back toward the city of Rosen and saw a huge white banner hanging high atop its walls. The sentries would exchange this for a black banner to warn them if enemy forces were sighted. But once the walls fell away from their view, once they had put ten or twelve miles between themselves and the walls, they would have to rely on their own advance scouts to search for enemies.

The 9-year-old girl, Shelby, was walking beside the 3-year-old Buddy, who was now sitting on a pile of blankets atop the wagon. After half an hour Buddy, also known as Hamilton, had enough walking for one day. `Traveling at night has the advantage of hiding us from human eyes, but it also has a disadvantage,' Shelby was saying to Buddy, `because there are these flying monsters which come out at night'. Buddy's eyes got big when he heard the words `flying monsters'.

`Monsters?' exclaimed Buddy.

`Yes indeed,' continued Shelby, `flying monsters, also known as "winged gargoyles", will swoop down and snatch up little fellows like you. They feed on kids just your size, you see.'

`Don't scare him,' said Shelby's mother, Misevasundia.

`I'm only giving him the facts. I think he has a right to know the facts,' said the precocious Shelby.

`The fact is,' said Shelby's mom, `it is unlikely that we will have any problems with the winged gargoyles. They attack at night alright but we will have the younger kids protected under blankets and tarps. You older kids know how to use your knives and you have thick leather jackets for armor. I don't see any problem from winged gargoyles. They might try to kill or blind the horses but we'll just have to be quick about stabbing them and fighting them off.'

`I saw a winged gargoyle die once,' said Heliomirabellisima. `About five of us had put arrows into this one mean old mother, and the damned thing just wouldn't die. We were hacking it and hacking at it with our swords, but it just kept right on trying to slash us with its razor-sharp claws. At last we got its head cut off. You want to wipe its saliva off you right away if one slobbers on you. It burns like acid. I still got some scars.'

`Don't you worry about no flying monsters, Buddy', said Misevasundia. `We'll kill them.'

`We would be wise to get off this main road as soon as possible,' said Mirabrasantes. `I know some trails wide enough to accommodate the wagon.'

`Do you sense danger at the moment?' asked Shelby, knowing that Mirabrasantes had a reputation for clairvoyance, for second sight ability to sense hidden dangers which no one else could sense.

`Not at this moment,' responded Mirabrasantes. `It's just always sound policy to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible in the wilderness.'

`Well I think that makes excellent sense,' said Shelby.

`Well I thik that make ekellent sens,' mimicked young Buddy.

Morning stretched into afternoon and they had yet to find a branching road or a smaller trail which they could use to makes themselves less conspicuous. The winter sun, amid a blue cloudless sky, was warming the air enough to make the hikers shed their warm garments. They trudged along in their shirt-sleeves. It was an hour or two before sunset when they found a trail leading east which would take them to a forest of evergreens a few miles further on. Seraphinaria sent Navorrasicaa and Sevaladelia ahead to scout out this forest, to find a place to make camp, and to make sure everything was safe. The two scouts wished they had Mirabrasantes' gift as they approached the wall of pines and leafless hardwoods. Who knew if someone or some thing was lying in wait and watching them approach? They had not penetrated far beyond the first few ranks of trees before the trail diverged into numerous branches, into a labyrinth of sorts, where the trails wound round the tree trunks in a confusing maze of pathways.

`Let's turn back before we get lost. We can camp inside this forest and try to cross it tomorrow,' whispered Navorrasicaa to Sevaladelia.

`Let's sit here and listen for a few minutes, to make sure there's nothing dangerous lurking nearby,' whispered Sevaladelia in reply.

The seconds elapsed in a dead quiet, a silence which didn't seem ominous or in any way creepy or unnatural to either of them. Having satisfied themselves that all was safe they retraced their steps and found their way out of the forest. After a half hour's brisk jog they found the main caravan once again and reported to Sevaladelia what they had seen.

Night had fallen and the moon had yet to rise and shed its light for them by the time they passed the outer pines and firs of the forest. A carpet of brown grass in a clearing to their right seemed as good a place any other to halt for the night. Soon their camp was bustling with activity. The oldest boys were sent to fetch water from a nearby trickle of a stream. There was no sense in using the reserves of water which they carried on the wagon when a stream was at hand. The oldest girls were sent to fetch firewood which would be used to boil huge pots of water, as well as to light their encampment. The littlest kids were helping their mothers peal potatoes and other such kitchen tasks. Al, who was getting used to his new gypsy life, was sitting on a blanket spread out of the grass, and was preparing hors d'oeuvres by slicing up a loaf of bread and heaping cheese or smoked salmon on to the slices, and then placing the slices on a platter. He showed Curt - Navorrasicaa's 4-year-old - and Dante - Sevaladelia's 5-year-old - how to fix the drinks the way the single moms liked them. For instance, Seraphinaria wanted her gin and tonics made with lemon slices not lime slices, and Valmyristarsis wanted her martinis made with rum and vermouth not gin and vermouth. And Casilevatates wanted three olives in her Martini. She shot Al an exasperated look once, when he gave her only one olive for her martini. Soon they were all drinking their drinks and feasting on briskets of corned beef and cabbage, though a few in the minority feasted on roast beef with asparagus tips and beets, and everyone had mashed potatoes and gravy, and after dinner there was coffee and a chocolate tort with cherries and whipped cream for dessert. Al talked about New York City and Paris, Rome and Milan and Chicago, San Francisco and LA and Miami Beach and all the other glamorous cities he had visited back in his old parallel universe. He explained the general ideas behind radios, televisions, the jet engine, the cinema, electricity, trains and cars and cell phones, antibiotics and anesthetics, but his audience was primarily interested in ICBMS and thermonuclear warfare, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nerve gas and biological weaponry - polonium and isotopes of U-235 - canisters of anthrax, suitcase size nukes etc. - devises which a single soldier could carry and by which he could destroy huge populations in enemy cities. Al would get lots of blank stares when he tried to explain the films of Bergmann, Eisenstein, David Lean, David Lynch, Hitchcock, Truffaut, Melville, Rohmer, Chabrol, Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, William Castle, Fassbinder, Herzog, Tarkovski, Carrol Reed, John Frankenheimer, Orson Wells, Oliver Stone and Quentin Tarantino to these uneducated warrior women and their even more uneducated kids. They seemed to understood the basic ideas behind motion pictures, TV and video and amplified music, but they just couldn't wrap their minds around electric guitars and rock and roll – the wall of sound invented by Phil Specter – or how Phil Specter killed that lovely girl he was with, for that matter - and they certainly did not give Al the impression that they had a sound understanding of Lady Gaga, or what she was driving at in Applause, Poker Face, Bad Romance, Papparrazi etc., etc. Fortunately, Martha had her MP3 player with her when she came through the portal. Up until this moment she never played the songs on her MP3 player, because she didn't want to alter this new universe. But Al persuaded the warrior women to persuade Martha to let them hear the songs on her MP3 player, so it was fun to observe the faces as these barbarians, or `civilized sorts of barbarians', in this new universe, while they listened to Applause, Poker Face, Bad Romance, Papparrazi and lots of other songs from the old the universe.

Some time past midnight the slumbering Al was cuddling close to the sleeping Valmyristarsis. Navorrasicaa woke the latter, and this woke Al inadvertently, when Navorrasicaa informed Valmyristarsis that it was her turn to do sentry duty for an hour. Al stretched and yawned as Navorrasicaa crawled under the same blankets which were covering Al.

`Did you hear the wolves howling or were you asleep?' asked Navorrasicaa.

`I must have been sleeping,' replied Al. `How far away from us are they?'

`Oh a mile or more I suppose,' said Navorrasicaa. She had thrown her arms around Al and she was shivering, either from the cold or from fear of the wolves, or both.

`Well, I'll fight the wolves if they try to get you, if they try to...'

Navorrasicaa wondered how Al was going to fight any wolves when he had already fallen back to sleep.

Dawn arrived to find the frost glittering round these languid sleepers lounging beneath the pines. One by one they crawled out from beneath their wool blankets and from beneath their eider down comforters to attend to their morning wash and then to their breakfasts. Before she had even eaten anything one of the little orphan girls - Jasmine - was complaining about a soreness in her abdomen. Al suspected these people knew a few things about appendicitis and he wondered if he might have to perform emergency surgery sometime soon. Sure enough, as the day worn on, little Jasmine was groaning more and more, and Al was telling the women-folk that if her inflamed appendix burst before he could remove it, then little Jasmine would most likely die. The women had all heard about people dying when they got in Jasmine's condition, and indeed their medical science was somewhat advanced. They had some knowledge of antiseptics and appendectomies. It wasn't as if Al's diagnosis was a complete shock to them. They had heard of surgeons who could deal with the problem but they themselves had no clue how they might perform an operation to save Jasmine from dying, not that Al admitted to being much more competent than themselves. Jasmine was more or less adopted by all of the single moms, or, at least, they were still waiting to see if Jasmine would accept Valmyristarsis, as Val especially wanted to adopt Jasmine. Neither Valmyristaris nor any of the other women wanted the job of cutting Jasmine open. They told Al to do the job. They told him to do what he had to do to save Jasmine's life. Al was no surgeon. All Al knew was that the appendix was attached to the large intestine. Well, he knew that he had to make sure he and his attending nurses wore masks, and used a sterilized knife to perform the operation, and used a sterilized needle and thread to sew little Jasmine back up once he had cut out the infected appendix, assuming he could find it. It was an hour before noon when they called a halt to their journey northwards, and began to gather the firewood they would need to boil water. Al took Seraphinaria's sharpest knife and plunged it into the boiling water. He then took inch thick rods of iron and plunged into the coals of the fire, to be made red-hot, and to be used later when he needed to cauterize a bleeding vein or artery. He let the knife he would use for the incision sit at the bottom of the boiling pot, along with the needle and thread, getting thoroughly sterilized, while the women gave little Jasmine shots of bourbon and gin and brandy, one after another, to help her cope with the pain of the operation. Al used rubbing alcohol on his hands and then he scrubbed his hands with soap and water, water that had cooled after it had been boiled. He washed for several minutes. And then he used more alcohol, and more soap and water, and more alcohol. Then he had Casilevatates put a cotton cloth over his mouth and nose, and over the mouths and noses of his two main assistants, Seraphinaria and Mirabrasantes. Jasmine was shaking with fear as the other women laid her on a makeshift operating table made out of wood taken from the wagon. Al rehearsed in his mind the instructions he would give to his assistants, mainly instruction on how to clear away the blood, so he could see where he was cutting. His assistants would have to use cloths boiled in water and then wrung dry to sop up the blood. A rather primitive expedient! But Al could see no other sanitized way to do the job. Once everything that needed to be cooled, after it was heated and sterilized, had cooled, and had been set nearby, ready to use when needed, four women held Jasmine tight, as Al began his initial incision, which was shallow and tentative. Jasmine was brave but she let out loud screams as Al pushed harder on the knife, as he cut through the wall of her abdomen. He stared down in disbelief, aghast at the bloody mess he was making. He directed Seraphinaria and Mirabrasantes to daub up the blood with their cloths. But new blood rushed in as soon as the old blood was mopped up! Al, who of course had no surgical gloves on his hands, pushed his fingers inside Jasmine's abdomen. Jasmine was beside herself with pain and fear as Al searched by feel for her appendix. Al was about ready to admit he didn't know what the hell he was doing. He was just about ready to say he should cauterize her bleeding veins and sew her back up - as he too was distraught and panicking by the high volume of Jasmine's screams - but then his fingers found something that he thought might be her appendix. He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger. He then used his knife to cut it out. Whatever it was, Al definitely severed it. Hopefully it was poor little Jasmine's inflamed appendix! Al was now holding it in his left hand, giving it a less than medically authoritative inspection. Al set it aside by dropping it on a cloth. Then he had Mirabrasantes hand him one of the red-hot irons which had been plunged in the coals of the fire, which he then used to cauterize the point where the appendix had been attached to the large intestine. Then he took another and then another and another of the red-hot irons and cauterized all of the bleeding blood vessels that he could find. When this was done to Al's satisfaction he used the needle and thread to sew Jasmine's belly back together again.

Poor Jasmine! The little orphan girl was in a wretched state. Her beautiful young features were distorted with agony and she was weeping uncontrollably because of the pain. And then she got sick and threw up because of all the whiskey she had to drank in the attempt to deaden the pain of the operation. In a few hours she was more or less in a tolerable condition. Stabs of pain shot through her abdomen whenever she moved, but if she kept perfectly still the pain wasn't too bad. Now, as Al told everyone, as long as she didn't get an infection and die from it, little Jasmine ought to survive both the surgery and the appendicitis.

Chapter 5. "Behold the days are coming', says the LORD, that the city shall be built....It shall not be plucked up or thrown down anymore forever." \- Jeremiah 31. 38-40

Casilevatates was twiddling her thumbs while she sat on the bank of the Dankole River, a narrow but cold, deep and fast-flowing flood which she and the others must cross sooner or later. Since decamping from the city of Rosen, aside of course for Jasmine's emergency appendectomy on the second day, and a few other things, they had made easy and uneventful progress for nine days. Then they reached the bridgeless Dankole River. It was bridgeless because Hibernian guerillas had sabotaged the bridged which had been there. Now on the afternoon of the 10th day out of the city of Rosen they decided to wait until the next day to get the 4 horses to swim the cold swift-flowing flood. It took very little time to empty the wagon. But it would take lots of time, perhaps an entire day, to gather enough logs together to build a big raft, something which wouldn't capsize when it was loaded with their gear, and when it was pulled across the river by the horses on the far shore. The key was to get the 4 horses across without losing any of them. On the first day they unloaded the wagon and had begun to chop down some trees. They had only 4 axes so only 4 of the women could be lumberjacks at one time. Casilevatates didn't have an axe so she twiddled her thumbs, and then she began writing a letter to her mother-in-law, informing her how it was that Al Mancini had escaped from them, had run off in the middle of last night, evidently they made a mistake in not keeping him loaded with chains. He left them a little note saying he had to get away before he went crazy, as he was really fed up with all the little indignities he had to put up with. Fetch this for me Al! Fetch that for me Al. He was glad to see that Jasmine was healing fine with no infection but he was still fed up! Al didn't even admit in his little note that he liked cuddling up with the beautiful warrior women, being all warm and cozy with them under the eiderdown blankets on the cold winter nights. After all, he was told that most of the men in this parallel universe had been killed off in the interminable wars. And he was told that men of his sort were therefore in high demand. So, Al, putting two and two together, as he explained in his note, decided there was a good chance that he could become both a free man, and, still have lots of woman chasing after him, which, he had to admit, was better than being a slave to the warrior women, though they were beautiful, and just his type, that is, they were just his type aside from him being their slave and they being his slave masters.

Sleeping under the stars was no hardship as all 31 of them knew how to stay warm in the wilderness. They had eiderdown blankets, wool blankets, cagules, canvass tarps, anoraks, wool sweaters, wool pants etc. Everything they required to stay cozy during the long winter nights and in the gales which would soon be blasting them with arctic fury could be found in their possession. But, at the moment, the winter sun was shining down on them and warming the world. The intoxicating scent of wood-smoke filled the atmosphere as they lounged by the campfires on the banks of the scenic Dankole.

If Al Mancini could find food and shelter he ought to survive somehow, and Casilevatates wished him well, having no animosity toward the man, her former lover, though she thought he played the martyr card with a little too much self-pity. She dared not express any sentiments saying she was glad Al had escaped when Commander Seraphinaria was listening, or for that matter when Mirabrasantes, Navorrasicaa, Misevasundia and Sevaladelia were listening, as these warriors and former lovers of Al Mancini were the ones most likely to get violent toward anyone they suspected of urging or helping Al to escape. Valmyristarsis had announced not many minutes ago that she was glad to see Al gone, and she went on to add that she didn't think his brains were anything special. She walked right into the meat-grinder with that comment because Misevasundia was quick on the attack: `No woman with any brains cares if a pleasure-slave is brainy or not. All that matters is a few things things : Is he attractive? Does he have some charm? Is he fun to be around?' To which Valmyristarsis responded with the standard line / running joke they all used whenever they felt themselves seriously insulted: `I'll just bide my time and then I'll cut your throat, bitch, when you're not expecting it.'

Seraphinaria was actually not bad at keeping discipline among her ranks. She encouraged her girls to speak freely and honestly, but to try to be as diplomatic as possible, and to use the running joke if they absolutely had to vent any rage welling up inside themselves because of any real or perceived insults. She wanted the wrath vented through words not sword thrusts. So far no one's throat had been cut, and perhaps it would have been impossible for any commander to keep such willful warrior women from clawing each other some. When you enter a shark tank you're lucky if you can get out with just a few long gashes and deep wounds. But Seraphinaria's girls were much more civilized than sharks! It's just that they got bored easily, and morale was always better when tall dark and handsome men were available for them to cuddle up with on the cold winter evenings.

Casilevatates was still twiddling her thumbs while sitting on the bank of the Dankole River, the narrow but deep inundation which she and the others must cross eventually. Casilevatates looked on, while, not far from her, also on the banks of the river, Seraphinaria was slowly pronouncing some words to help her 3-year-old son, Jay-Jay, learn them: `No more MAN-see-nee. MAN-see-nee go bye-bye. He gone. He is a LIE-ing SCUM-bag. He is a Big LIE-ing SCUM-bag.'

Casilevatates, her gorgeous honey-blonde tresses catching the sun and the slight breeze, decided she would do something productive. It was wintertime but she was still warm and comfortable enough under her huge woolen cloak. So she began shaving her legs, and, at the same time - perhaps to test herself to see if she was any good at multi-tasking \- she also began writing a letter to her grandmother. At one moment she looked up and asked a question of those close to her.

`Say, what do you think, which is grammatically correct, is it `I smote?" or is it `I smited?"'

`It's most definitely "I smote",' said Navorrasicaa.

`On no, trust me on this one, it is "I smited", said Misevasundia with a good deal of self-confidence and vehemence in her tone.

Navorrasicaa dropped the matter because, though she knew she wasn't wrong, she was coming round to the conclusion that either form was acceptable with the grammar cops, or at least with a large minority of grammar cops.

Soon enough, Casilevatates began to pre-fabricate some letters after she had finished shaving her legs and everything else which needed shaving. Seraphinaria was big on stressing to her girls that they not let themselves go, to not look like homeless savages. Seraphinaria was big on having her girls make sure they wash often, and use make-up if they wanted, and certainly not to hesitate to use some perfume, stressing that she didn't want the wilderness to cause them to degenerate into grungy chicks, because that condition is bad for the self-esteem of beautiful warrior girls, plus it is a health issue. If a girl got lice in her hair they would have to shave her head, and certainly none of the beautiful warrior girls wanted to be bald.

About these pre-fabricated letters Casilevatates was writing, it stood to reason that when the weather turned really nasty, or when their food supply was pinched, she would not be in the mood for writing letters, so she was writing letters in advance. Plus, she reasoned, she would be better at perfecting turns of phrase when she was comfortable rather than when she was freezing to death, so this was another excellent reason to prepare letters in advance. She could always date and sign and make minor alterations to them later. And it never hurts to write letters of literary quality. If she and the others died on their mission, she might attain some lasting fame via her literary style. And if they succeeded in their mission, they would become celebrities, and she wanted to be all that she could be as a celebrity, and if she could impress people with the literary quality of her letters, then she could be all that she could be as a celebrity. One of these pre-fabricated letters ran as follows:

To Her Highness, Her Majesty Queen Dr. Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz, the Beautiful, the Benevolent, the Most Merciful Queen of Avallonia, The Supreme Representative on Earth of God and God's True Church, The Sovereign of the Northern Marches etc., etc., B.A., Ph.D., MBA etc, etc.

Greetings Your Majesty,

This week the elements have proven to be most ferocious enemies. This very morning, day broke cold and bleak, exceedingly cold and bleak, and this was because of the bitterly frigid north winds which blasted us as we huddled beneath our blankets. It is a wonder and a miracle of Providence that no one froze to death from the severe frost and the merciless winds which blow across these treeless northern plains. Winter has descended upon this remote region of Avallonia with remorseless cruelty, shorn of every last vestige of mercy, of every pretense of gentility. Here, in the barren northern wastes, Man and Nature fight an eternal fight - a ceaseless combat where no quarter is given on the frozen tundra to any wretch finding himself having to beg for mercy from ferocious blizzards and savage beasts. Once we leave your blessed Kingdom of Avallonia entirely, and steal as spies into the land of our enemies, as you know, I won't be able to post any more letters to you. So wish us well! And be assured that we are becoming hardened in mind and body. We are being transformed into warriors through and through. We are soldiers who will do our best to triumph in our mission for our beloved Avallonia. One of our soldiers in particular amazes me with her strength, courage and single-minded tenacity. I mean Misevasundia of course. She is an exotic-looking beauty as well as a fearless warrior who seems to thrive on hardship and the rigours of warfare. No doubt her love for Queen and Country fuel the heroic determination inside of her. I must keep this letter brief because the brutality of the winter tolerates no extravagant expenditure of energy. I must marshal my waning strength before I take up my bow and head out on the hunt for meat. Would that a great woolly mammoth or an enormous cave bear should cross my path! If one did we would soon have meat aplenty, for I am lethal with the longbow. We will need nourishment to defeat the famine and find the strength to fulfill our mission in fighting the enemies of Avallonia. Farewell Your Majesty! Whether I should return alive from my mission or not, know that my memories of Avallonia and of our beloved Queen will be treasured in my heart for as long as I live.

Your humble and devoted subject etc., etc.,

`What do you think of this letter, Misevasundia?' asked Casilevatates.

Misevasundia took a minute or two to read it over once or twice.

`It's quite good. It's neither sycophantically over-the-top nor is it too timid, too aloof, or too wordy. And I think that, just as the praise I have given to you in my letters could never be construed as part of some self-serving plot for our own aggrandizement, the understated praise that you give to me, in this letter, could never be construed as part of a cheap two-bit quid pro quo self-promotion scheme that exists between us.'

`That was my assessment exactly. But I don't think we should write any more letters where you praise my bravery, tenacity, patriotism and heroism, and I praise yours, as I suspect we might be getting pretty close to being over-the-top.'

`Yes,' said Misevasundia. `I can see the wisdom in that. Less is more, though sometimes more is more.'

`Sometimes, but not here,' said Casilevatates. `Here, less would be less, but more would also be less, because in this circumstance, given the letters we have already pre-fabricated, not more, and not less, are both more. But less, and more, are both less.'

`Yes,' said Misevasundia.

`This letter will be either the last or the second to last cynical self-serving letter that 1'll send. No doubt it would be best for me to date, sign and post it from one of the Avallonian villages on the furthest section of the frontier.'

`Absolutely.'

`That would be weird,' began Casilevatates, `if it actually turned out to be an honest letter when I post it. I mean, it would be weird if the weather really was brutal, and if we really were starving, and if I really did have to kill something with lots of meat on its bones in order for us to survive...

`And if I really was filled with heroic determination....'

`But you are. Just because we're writing a few letters to promote ourselves doesn't mean everything in them is a pack of lies. You are filled with heroic determination! And everyone knows that the term "exotic-looking beauty" is not over-the-top praise of you, as it evokes images of a glamorized plain-Jane, images of some chick with a big nose. You know that I'm down-playing, I'm diminishing your beautiful good-looks, to create verisimilitude.'

`As long as it creates verisimilitude! I was going to call you on it. Hey, what do you mean by saying I'm an "exotic-looking beauty"? Where the hell do you get off insinuating that I'm ugly, that I'm an "exotic-looking beauty", when you should be saying that men die of longing just to gaze upon me? Anyway, you in all honesty, are "a gorgeous warrior-girl who shoots the bow and arrow with deadly aim", just as I wrote of you in one of my letters, as you know.'

`I appreciate your sincerity. And thanks for not getting catty by taking offense at my "exotic-looking beauty" comment. I have been purposely packing on some pounds in case we run short of food when crossing the mountains. So if you wanted to write a few more letters you could say in a catty way that I'm not as slim as I used to be. It creates verisimilitude,' said Casilevatates.

`Excellent,' said Misevasundia.

The struggle to cross the Dankole River was proceeding, but not quite according to plan. The day after the next day 8 warrior women swam with the 4 horses across the flood, while dragging a rope with them. They threw on every garment of wool that they had to insulate them from the frigid water. Then, 4 of the women swam back to the other side, pulling themselves across with the aid of the rope, which was now firmly fixed to both side of the flood. And then they began the process of ferrying kids and provisions across the river via a raft. The whole operation took longer than expected. Indeed it took two full days and part of a third to get everyone and everything across. The most arduous jobs were in chopping enough trees to make a useable raft, and then reducing those trees to logs, and then transporting those logs to the water's edge. Seraphinaria made sure everything was taken at a slow pace to make sure no one got hurt, and dragging lots of logs weighing 200 lbs each could strain the muscles of even the most assiduously trained warrior girl.

Chapter 6. `In that day the LORD will defend the inhabitants of Jerusalem; the one who is feeble among them shall be like David, and the house of David shall be like God.' - Zechariah 12. 8-9.

After everyone and everything had been transported across the Dankole, they continued their march along the road heading north and slightly westward. At noon Seraphinaria decided to break for lunch, an informal affair where everyone threw blankets on the snow by the side of the road and then plopped themselves down while some of the kids began serving lunch. Heliomirabellisima and her kids were resting on their blankets by the side of the road, like everyone else. Being wakeful and energetic - 3 hours of walking was nothing to her - and with no need to shave her beautiful legs as they were already shaved silky smooth, Heliomirabellisima was in the mood for reading, conversation, and perhaps some idle contemplation and aimless daydreaming. Indeed she was soon half-asleep and daydreaming, as her mind drifted back to the most recent time that she, and the rest of them, their kids included, had conversed with the Queen of Avallonia. It was just two weeks ago, in the City of Rosen, just before the purchase of Al Mancini, when the Queen, Her Majesty Dr. Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz, the Beautiful, the Benevolent, the Most Merciful Sovereign of Avallonia, the Supreme Representative on earth of God and God's True Church, B.A., Ph.D., MBA etc., etc., was down on the carpet, sitting on her rump, while taking a break from her sit-up exercises. She was wearing a tightly fitting silver spandex t-shirt and tightly fitting black spandex short-shorts. Casilevatates could find some cellulite on Her Majesty's thick powerful thighs, and there was a very pronounced spare-tire of excess flab bulging around her mid-section. To be perfectly honest, this ring of flab round her mid-section was enormous. However, her Majesty's face was extremely cute, and there wasn't all that huge of a double or triple chin on the Queen, and, it has to be admitted, her mid-sectional embarrassment was something that could befall any slim girl who might cave in to temptation, who might treat herself to 1,000 extra jelly donuts over the span of a few months.

`As you know,' began Her Majesty as she sat on the carpet, as she looked up at all 31 of them surrounding her - again this was before Al Mancini joined them \- `I was able to get rid of those regents 5 years ago and become Queen at the age of 17 by aggressively promoting a platform of cutting and running from these wars which have been raging for over five decades now. But, while I would advise you not to embark on this dangerous mission you are so intent on, nevertheless, as the hostility of our northern enemies seems intractable, and as you are resolved on avenging the deaths of your fathers and husbands, I feel it is not my place to forbid you from going. So I'll authorize your mission. And there are some political inducements which prevent me from ordering you not to go. Last year I thought the Pro-War faction was on its last legs and was about to collapse completely, but there has been a Revivification in the Pro-War faction, such that this crown which sits on my head, while it may look stable, is actually not so stable. I can't force you to stay home because the Revivified Pro-War faction would conspire with the Anti-Divine Right of Kings faction and they would soon have my head on a platter if I prevented heroes like you from fighting the enemies of Avallonia. But I wish you wouldn't go! If you do go however - then I want you to contemplate the horrors of war. I might seem like a silly woman doing her silly exercises, but face some simple facts for a minute. Our Hibernian enemies compound the usual horrors of war with their innate savagery and the accomplished barbarism of murderous fiends who refine their cruel methods ever more hideously from generation to generation: they pull men limb from limb with the aid of horses; they set women on fire and howl with the glee of demons as these women are slowly burned alive; they throw little children into cages full of huge hungry bears or the most ferocious tigers etc., etc. So, again, I plead with you to stay home! Don't go. I mean, who in their right mind would go? But, if you insist on going, I can only wish you good luck. Let me make one last appeal to you. For heaven's sake don't go! Stay here! Go back to school. Take a yoga class. Go to the beach and walk on it. I know you demand vengeance for your deceased husbands and fathers, but think how wretched and depressed you will feel when they toss you into a cage full of man-eating tigers that will claw you to pieces while they rip your arms and legs off in their jaws....I can see you are unmoved. You're brave women and children. Not to be rude but, do you think, maybe, you got more guts than brains? No? I'm wrong? You're not going to reconsider? Well reconsider it anyway.'

Her Majesty was still down on the carpet. She was on all fours now, and she was performing curious exercises whereby she would extend her left leg and her right arm, so both were sticking straight out, well above the floor. Then, while she arched her back as much as she was able to, she would start chanting, almost shouting, "Say no to flab! Say yes to a lean Queen! Say hello to a slim new Sovereign! Say no to big slabs of cheese cake! Say yes to yogurt! Say no to Boston Cream Pie! Say yes to carrots and celery! Say no to huge cinnamon rolls!" Then, after perhaps 30 seconds of chanting, she pulled in her left leg / right arm and extended her right leg / left arm, arched her back and began a new series of incantations: "Visualize Success! Make your dreams come true! See them materialize! See yourself in that bikini! Visualize It. Believe It. Achieve It. Do It For Me Your Majesty!'

When these performances were completed Her Majesty rolled over and sat on her big bottom, her thick legs extending straight out in front of her, her arms and hands behind her back now to prop up her belly roll and her plus-sized bosom. Then she began to do some crunches to strengthen her abdominal muscles, but she couldn't do more than 7 of these before fatigue did her in. Her Majesty again addressed the company of the warrior women and their 22 children.

`I want you ladies, along with you little girls and little boys, to do my bidding on some matters of seemingly minor importance, but au contraire, they are very very important. You are under strict military orders to keep up with your logs while you are in Avallonia. But don't take the logs with you when you leave the country. Cache them in a place where you will remember to find them later. If you are arrested in a foreign country we don't want any enemies finding these logs. More importantly, every night, before you go to sleep, while you are lying in your blankets or your sleeping bags or whatever it is you have to stay warm when you are in the wilderness, I want you to look up at the moon and the stars and say the Formula for Empowerment, and it goes like this: "I will be the best that I can be most certainly. I will give 100% effort every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of every century." Say this Formula for Empowerment a few times before you go to sleep, and say it before you get out of bed in the morning. Also, promise me you will do one more thing. If you should hear a wolf howling at the moon, then you too howl at the moon. You don't have to howl too loudly - you could whisper your howl if you wanted to - I suppose a clever person could find a way to whisper a howl - but the important thing is to howl in your own unique and individualized way. Doing this will help you to feel more at home in the wilderness, and the success or failure of your mission might hinge on how much you feel at home in the wilderness. I mean if you are always bitching about the cold you might get so distracted you might get eaten by enormous cave bears. And getting eaten by cave bears would cause you to fail in your mission, and I don't want you to fail in your mission, though I still wish you wouldn't go on this mission. Why can't you heroes do something heroic here at home?'

Queen Brittany had by now gotten off the floor and was now trying to touch her toes, but her belly-roll / spare tire were causing her to fail in her mission. But she kept trying as she addressed her audience.

`I have a vertical management structure in my dominions,' Her Majesty was saying this while she was bent over, so all they could see was her upside down backside. `That means I am like an authoritarian Managing Director of a big impersonal corporation and you are my obedient underlings in this big impersonal corporation. Though we have a vertical management structure, I do have an open-door policy. Feel free to drop in and see me anytime if you want to discuss what it is you need to discuss with me. But be aware that I will stand for nothing less, from each of you, nothing less than 100% of your maximum maximum effort 100% of the time. It's your job to give 100% effort, no, wait, - 110% effort! - every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of every century. And it's my job to make sure that you give 110% effort every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week etc.....I guess I can stop trying to touch my toes. I still have some side stretchers and knee-bends to do. Wait...Oh darn it. I just remembered I have to get down on all fours again because today is the day I have to do 25 girls' push-ups. Boys' push-ups give me a backache. Boys give me a headache and boys' push-ups give me a backache. OK, we'll see you when you get back. Try to embrace the invigorating aspects of the cold barren wastes of the North Country. When you breathe up there breath deeply so you get that good clean fresh northern air deep down into your lungs. Just keep your heads up and watch out for enormous cave bears. Witches, werewolves and vampires proliferate in the northern wastes, as you know, but I have confidence in you. I have confidence you can handle that sort of stuff as long as you think positively and don't get taken unawares, so keep your heads up and your eyes open. I'll get you some gold if you succeed. Just remember - howl some at the moon - never let it be said that I don't encourage my people to let their hair down and have a little fun now and then - so do howl at the moon, and do believe in, and do embrace, and do perform, and do celebrate the Formula for Empowerment.'

`Goodbye Your Majesty,' said Seraphinaria.

`Goodbye, keep me informed on everything.'

Everyone said good-bye to the Queen as they departed from her royal work-out room in the Royal Palace in the city of Rosen.

Chapter 7. `If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch, and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned.' - John 15. 6

`Queen Brittany,' began Shelby, Misevasundia's eldest girl, `is smart in some ways, but she's not so bright if she thinks she can scare us with all of her emotional talk about tigers tearing us apart, and horses pulling us limb from limb, and getting burned alive. She's a nice lady but she is sort of a dumb-ass.'

`She's much fatter but also much prettier than I expected,' said Mercedes, Misevasundia's youngest daughter, as they left the Castle. `She got me steamed when she said we had more guts than brains. Yeah, maybe she is a dumb-ass.'

`Keep it down!' exclaimed their mom. `She's a dim bulb alright. A fine mother I would be if I taught my kids to cut and run just because the enemy did some nasty things! But you can't go around saying the Queen is a dumb-ass. They don't chop your head off round here anymore if you besmirch the dignity of the monarch, but you get your name on a blacklist, and good luck getting invited to fun parties if your name is on the blacklist. And you don't know if there's a Judas in our midst who will hear your words and will then betray you to people who will put your name on the official blacklist. So don't insult the Queen.'

`If there was a Judas in our midst, who do you think it would be?' asked Shelby.

`It's usually people who say stuff like "the Queen is a dumb-ass", replied Misevasundia. `It's more or less the unofficial position of this company that the Queen is a good woman or at least good enough; we certainly don't want her deposed, or executed, or thrown into a dungeon, though I didn't like that comment she made about how she would be upset if we got eaten by enormous cave bears, not because we she hated the idea of us getting devoured, but because we would fail in our mission if we got devoured by cave bears. Anyway, despite some of her insensitive comments, we're OK with Queen Brittany being Queen. Now if she became tyrannical then this would change things, and our position on Queen Brittany might change from one of support for the Queen to one of agitation for regime change in a non-violent way, or perhaps we would be in favor of a plot to launch a coup which brought about her violent removal from office, assuming her tyranny was sufficiently extreme. We might have some people in our midst who believe in the Divine Right of monarchs, or maybe we don't. That's why you want to express your religious and political beliefs with some discretion, because, if, in a Civil War, the Atheists or the Agnostics think that you believe in the Divine Right of Monarchs, then you might get your throat cut by the Atheists and Agnostics if they come to think that Queen Brittany has become tyrannical and must be removed from office via a coup. If they are bent on launching a coup they might silence anyone who they think might tell the Queen about this coup, such as a person who believes the Queen has a Divine Right to rule, regardless whether she is tyrannical or not. Similarly, the Atheists and the Agnostics have to be circumspect in their religious and political comments, because, in a Civil War, they might get their throats cut by fanatics in favor of the Divine Right of Kings / Queens. If fanatics believe Atheists and Agnostics are plotting violence against Queen Brittany, regardless if Queen Brittany has become tyrannical or not, then fanatics might get violent toward them. So, the concept of a Judas - a nasty chick or a ruthless dude - is a little complicated. A Judas, in the eyes of someone who believes in the Divine Right of Queens and Kings, might be a hero, and not be a Judas - not a nasty chick or a ruthless dude - in the eyes of people who reject the doctrine of the Divine Right of Queens and Kings. I hope this clarifies matters.'

`It's quite rudimentary really,' said the 5-year-old, Mercedes. `Christian Kings and Queens who teach heresy or who do other anti-Christian things are to be excommunicated, like any other Christian who offends. There is no special exemption for Kings and Queens under the New Law. They are the Lord's anointed as long as they are not excommunicated by the True Church. There's not a lot of sanctioning of bloodshed in the New Testament. It seems insane to say the police are not permitted to use force if necessary to apprehend murderers, rapists etc., in some circumstances force is permitted, but you have to be delusional to think one Christian faction has the right to slay another Christian faction under the New Law.'

`Quite so,' said Shelby, Mercedes' elder sister. `I think you've really hit the nail on the head with your analysis.'

`I intend to be a Christian spy who masquerades as an Atheist!' exclaimed Mercedes.

`Me too!' said Shelby as the two of them ran off to see their friends

`Damn!' swore Misevasundia under her breath. `This is a fine kettle a fish.' Misevasundia was thinking how strange it all was. Here she is, an Atheist spy masquerading as a Christian, with daughters who she loves who she raised to be good Christians, to keep my cover, who will probably do what they say and become Christian spies masquerading as Atheists, trying their damnedest to harm the Atheist cause.'

Chapter 8. `Thus says the LORD GOD: `Woe to the women that...hunt souls...' - Ezekiel 13. 18-23.

5 days after crossing the flood of the Dankole river by use of logs and some of their mountain climbing ropes, they were now close to the city of Brandon. Misevasundia was writing a letter, but it was not one of her pre-fabricated letters.

To: Her Highness, Her Majesty Queen Dr. Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz, the Beautiful, the Benevolent, the Most Merciful Queen of Avallonia, Supreme Representative on Earth of God and God's True Church, etc., etc., B.A., Ph.D., MBA etc., etc.

Greetings Your Majesty,

Hi! How's it going? Well we've had some amazing adventures out here in the wilderness. I'll try to give you a quick re-cap without taking too much of your time. The troop of us nine women and 22 children had collected the last of our mountain climbing gear in Rosen. As you know the usual approaches to Cromwell Town will be heavily guarded by enemy forces \- and we will have to make our approach via the unguarded routes - over the high mountains. We have a good deal of food in reserve on the wagon, and we are finding it easy to buy more food in the villages along the route. Next week we should reach the last major city in your realm, Barerro, and then we will cross the last 200 miles of empty wasteland to the frontier, and then the re-conquest of the alpine regions of Avallonia! The wagon is piled high with woolen pants, woolen sweaters, canvas jackets - from children's sizes to clothes that would fit a huge man. We have a few big tents too. Well, to get the exciting part of my epistle, one day we were travelling down the road, proceeding through a thin forest of dwarf pines and straggling firs and the birch trees which predominate along the banks of a river called the Lambert. All the snow of early winter has melted in a brief thaw. We marched through a world of yellow grass, blue skies, gorgeous evening sunsets. One day, just before noon, the horses became skittish. They smelled or sensed danger. Soon enough the horses were panicking, with only the whites of their eyes showing and froth flying from their mouths. We had to put Plan A into effect. Plan A has us unhitching the two horses which are hitched to the wagon, and then we take the other two horses which are tethered to the back of the wagon. We got the horses to calm down a little. So we now have 4 horses which can carry 8 people. Plan A has us putting the 3 orphans, and the 4 kids aged 10 and over, and Navorrasicaa, who is the slightest of us 8 warrior women, she is the least adept among us as a warrior, the one we can most afford to lose in combat, and we put the lot of them, all 8, on the four horses, and let the horses run, and they wanted to run let me tell you, as they must have feared a pack of werewolves, or a vampire was nearby. So, Martha Manning, along with the 7 remaining warrior women, and the 15 remaining kids, will have to either elude or fight whatever it was that was putting such fear into the horses, and those horses fled with terror in their eyes downwind, carrying their equally fearful riders. Something truly foul and demonic was upwind, and it probably hadn't detected us yet, because we were downwind. So we tried to hide the wagon in what woods there were. Then we hid themselves as best we could in the thin forest of straggling trees. Seraphinaria had been harping on everyone to wash everyday with soap and water. A pack of wolves will smell the scent of human beings whether they wash every day or not, but, perhaps, witches, werewolves or vampyres don't have such a keen sense of smell. I don't know. Anyway we were a well-scrubbed and sweet-smelling company. Well, you'll never guess what happened next! In another ten minutes a very pretty young woman came strolling down the road we had been on, walking along all La-Dee-Da innocent-like. Naturally we suspected she was a witch and we were itching to make a pincushion out of her with our bows and arrows. She begged for her life and she gave us some story that it was some wolves in the woods, or a grizzly bear, not her, that had terrified the horses. Well our horses and our friends came back in a little while, and the horses weren't afraid of the woman, whose name is Vyryvyr. Navorrasicaa said a huge pack of wolves had surrounded the 4 horses and forced them to return. So, it was these wolves which must have originally caused the horses such a fright, not the woman! So, just about the time we were thinking that some stupid old superstitions about witches nearly caused us to turn an innocent, live woman into a dead pincushion, we're suddenly thinking Vyryvyr is indeed a witch, because, we can catch glimpses of a huge wolf pack through the thin forest. I estimate there were 1,000 wolves, and I'm thinking they are not attacking and killing all us - and they could have easily killed us all because they were huge and because there were at least 1,000 of them - because the beautiful young woman, Vyryvyr, is a witch, and she controls the wolves, and she doesn't want the wolves to attack and kill us, at least not just yet. You should have seen Martha Manning. She was in the most horrible transports of fear. She was going on and on about how the Bible says there is a Devil, and about how the Bible says there is demonic possession, and about how the Bible says there are witches, and she's saying that it only stands to reason that since the Bible says there is a Devil, and demonic possession, and witches, then this Vyryvyr is most likely a real live bona fide witch. Martha Manning was preparing for her imminent death: she was begging God to forgive her sins, and going on and on about what these sins were, and she was insisting to Heaven that she repented of her of her sins. I didn't hear her admit aloud that she lied on her naturalization form when she said she was 37 though! Everyone suspects she is actually 57. Hey, lady you forgot one of your sins! I shouldn't crack jokes at her expense. The poor woman was in hysterics. Anyway, even the Atheists in our company were thinking that Vyryvyr wielded supernatural malevolent powers, because they too had eyes to see those 1,000 frightful wolves escorting us to Vyryvyr's place, which is a huge black Castle. It has towering ramparts, a moat, a portcullis, liveried footmen etc. And even the Atheists are thinking that with a name like Vyryvyr how could she not be a witch? She has this huge walk-in oven with 100 iron hooks hanging from the stone roof from which you can hang 100 cattle carcasses: Vyryvyr's ancestors often needed to feed an army of 10,000 soldiers, or that

's what she claims. So, she gives us a tour of her place. She has a dungeon, of course. We got locked into it for about an hour, which caused us no end of terror, but Vyryvyr found a locksmith to get the lock to work again. Jazar, a giant ogre-like man, could have broken the massive door down to get us out if the locksmith couldn't do it. Vyryvyr has an immense library, with tons of books on witchcraft and satanism, on miles of shelving. I can't remember the exact titles I saw, but you know, stuff like: Satan and Sorcery. Witchcraft. Vampyres. Werewolves. Diabolism etc., etc. She had lots of portraits of her ancestors hanging on the walls of the Castle, some of them were pictures of beautiful women who, the legends say, bathed daily in the blood of slain infants, as the legends say that's what keeps their complexions fresh and smooth and ever-youthful. Vyryvyr claims she is writing her doctoral dissertation on the Folklore of these parts of Avallonia, so all these old books help her in her research. Well, to make a long story short, Vyryvyr treated us to some very excellent meals - we stayed at her place for two nights, and then we said goodbye, and got back on the road going north. Vyryvyr is very charming and enchanting. Even Martha Manning was `bewitched' by her. There is an Exhibit B in the case saying Vyryvyr is a witch, however. Exhibit A, as you will recall is the evidence of these 1,000 huge wolves being in strict obedience to her. Exhibit B runs like this: Vyryvyr has some hot springs bubbling up out of the ground in back of her Castle. She has no end of towering pines trees there also, and, with the towering pines and the boiling spring water gushing up out of the ground, even in midwinter, the temperature behind her Castle never falls much below 70 degrees Fahrenheit, so everything is green and lush in this `Enchanted Forest.' There are lots of blooming flowers and fragrant shrubs and aromatic ferns. So, though it is winter now, the kids are having fun playing in the warm spring water - if you get away from the boiling sources and give the water a chance to cool off some, there are many places to luxuriate in pools of warm water. The nine of us adult women stripped down to our bras and panties. And then some young guys in livery are serving us beer and chips, and we're trying to get them to strip down as well and join us in the warm water. This one guy takes off his jacket and is preparing to strip down to his jockey shorts and join us in the water, when, all of a sudden, he is struck down with sheer panic - I mean absolute paralyzing fear and horror. Well, who do you suppose is looking down at him, through a break in the pine boughs, from a window high up in the Castle? Who do you suppose is staring daggers at him, boring holes with her big ebony eyes into this guy who tried to get into the warm water with us? He's shaking with fear as he puts his shirt and livery jacket back on, and fast. Sevaladelia jumps out of the water and she waves and smiles to Vyryvyr. But Vyryvyr isn't smiling back. She just turns away and leaves the window. You would have had to have seen how scared that guy was. I tell you, Your Majesty, he was afraid of no mortal woman: he was afraid of a witch from Hell! So that's Exhibit B in the case saying Vyryvyr is a witch. She could be extremely pleasant though. But then the spell of enchantment she had cast over us wore off when we got back on the road going north. The upshot of it all is that both the believers in our company along with the nonbelievers - even the Atheists! - even those hostile to the doctrine of the Divine Right of Kings - are pretty sure Vyryvyr is indeed a witch from Hell - if you saw how scared that guy was, and if you saw the way she commanded that pack of 1,000 huge, black, ferocious wolves, you would believe she is a witch too. We had agreed to disagree about some stuff, and give the religious strife a rest, but now the old factional strife has again rent the not-so-seamless robe of our heroic troop. Some of the kids and some of the women insist there are heretics in our company, and they say these damnable heretics are in cahoots with the witch, Vyryvyr. The Christians in the troop, who do not deny the existence of foul damnable satanic Heretics, insist that all of the foul damnable satanic Heretics along with all of the foul damnable satanic Atheists in our company are in cahoots with the foul damnable satanic witch Vyryvyr. It has just gotten so insane! Another suspicion is that the witch Vyryvyr wants us, for some reason, to re-conquer Cromwell Town, which of course is in the hands of the papists. That's why she let us leave her place alive. Either that or she wants us all to get slaughtered by the papists while trying to re-conquer that city. We had an uneventful week of marching north from Vyryvyr's Castle to the city of Brandon, the city where I'm posting this letter. Well, not quite uneventful. I got really sick after I had the Caesar Salad at a tavern called The Cavalier Duchess. I suspect the cheese wasn't so fresh. I was sick as dog for a day there. My stomach would not even hold down goodly food. So heads up if you ever dine at The Cavalier Duchess.

Stay Tuned Your Majesty!

Chapter 9. `The incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God' - 1 Peter 3. 4

Heliomirabellisima looked out from high atop the immense walls of the city of Barerro. Far to the north were great snowy mountains shining in the sunset, with the highest peaks climbing far into the sky. The walls of the city, 100 feet high and 10 miles in circumference, were more impressive than any city walls in Avallonia save for the capital city of Rosen.

Heliomirabellisima took her leave from the fabulous mountain scenery and descended stairs made of stone until she reached the cobble-stoned streets of the city. The buildings of the city, which were generally between four and seven stories high, and made of both timber and concrete, crowded in upon each other as they rose above the streets, thus leaving the avenues and lanes at the foot of the buildings narrow and crowded pathways, jammed with people, horses and carts. Having a map to guide her steps, Heliomirabellisima soon found the charming restaurant she was seeking. She marveled at the entrance to the restaurant; the huge doorway was framed between massive iron gates which supported a granite entablature. Inside she encountered more marvels to behold. The scent of apples and freshly brewed beer and freshly baked bread prevailed over the palace, though there was also the perfume of some women who brushed past her, a wonderful perfume which only heightened the opulence of her new surroundings. A fire burned in a massive hearth to her right. To the left was the thundering clatter of fifty cooks in the kitchens. The walls were adorned with frescos fifty feet high, with scenes of Hercules and the nymphs who once enslaved him, and with scenes of a giantess battling a Kraken. Heliomirabellisima proceed down a tiled pathway lined with potted palm trees. She felt as if she was embarking on a long odyssey, as this pathway under the palms wound interminably past tables and alcoves, winding deeper and deeper into the massive restaurant. But it only required a minute or two of hiking before she brought herself to the place she sought: a table round which sat 10 kids and 3 other adult women. Heliomirabellisima sat herself down at their table. She was informed that the other kids and the other warrior women were at a different restaurant, one which was equally or perhaps even slightly more opulent than this one.

`Hi, I'm Jennifer and I'll be your server tonight,' said the smiling Jennifer.

`We saw a witch!' exclaimed Buddy, Valmyristarsis' youngest boy.

`You did? Where did you see her?' asked Jennifer, feigning terror in her voice.

`We're not supposed to talk about it,' said Kayla, Heliomirabellisima's eldest daughter.

`Yeah, but if you saw a witch you have to warn people about her,' exclaimed Jennifer, still thinking the kids were pulling a gag as she tried to play along with some good-humor.

`She has a big black Castle, and she had lots of wolves,' said Buddy.

`Oh I heard about that witch! She's a real bad one. Real bad,' said Jennifer.

Then Buddy started to cry and, then, soon enough, some other kids started screaming with terror - which of course made poor Jennifer - who might have been 19 - look as if she wanted to crawl under a table and hide from the shock of causing such distress in these kids.

`Don't worry about it Jennifer. It's not your fault,' said Mirabrasantes. `They are just a little high-strung. You know how kids get when they have too much sugar in them after some bad dreams.'

Jennifer slunk away but came back soon enough with some menus, water and baskets of fresh bread. There was a conspicuous silence for a few seconds as she poured the water for everyone. `All right then,' said Jennifer. `I hope everyone is feeling better! I'll be back in several minutes to take your orders. If you can think of anything you might need right now I'll get it for you, otherwise see ya in a few minutes.'

Jennifer slunk away again, though looking relived she hadn't said anything to set them off.

`You look like the witch,' said Buddy when Jennifer returned.

`He means you're both very pretty,' said his mom, Valmyristarsis. `He didn't mean to insult you.'

`No offense taken! And thanks for saying I'm pretty! But maybe we shouldn't talk about that witch,' said Jennifer.

`We're better now. It was good for us to have that cry, to get it out of our systems,' said Kayla.

`Sounds like you've had some nightmares,' said Jennifer.

`No, it was a real witch,' said Kayla.

`Well you're very brave for not crying now. Witches can be scary,' said Jennifer.

One of the littlest of the little boys, Seraphinaria's 3-year-old, Jay-Jay, started crying and screaming again, because he was thinking about that witch and her army of huge wolves.

`OK, I'm just not going to mention that subject anymore,' said Jennifer, rather exasperated by the emotionally-charged and precariously sensitive atmosphere.

As Jennifer was speaking, Al Mancini walked up to her, gave her a kiss on the cheek, looked down on their tables, but didn't say anything, then continued on to the kitchen. He didn't have his chains on any longer. Jennifer saw that the women and all the kids were staring at him.

`Oh that's my boyfriend,' said Jennifer.

`That guy is still our slave,' said Kayla, `even though he escaped.'

`Really?' exclaimed Jennifer, wondering if this conversation would lead to hysterics, `Well, he's my boyfriend now, and he's not your slave any longer.'

`He has excellent teeth,' said Buddy.

`He recognized us as he walked by, but I guess he didn't want to stop and chat,' said Kayla.

`Yeah, that must be super awkward for him,' said Jennifer. `I mean it's really really awkward for me, so imagine how Al's feeling! But he's so good looking, so I suppose he's like: I'm so good-looking, so nothing is ever awkward for me! I wonder what you're supposed to say when you stumble across your really good-looking slave that ran away? I suppose if he was my slave, I'd be like: "Hey, how ya doing? Come back, please, please, please come back!'

You'd think he'd want to sneak out the back door,' said Kayla. `I mean he is still, legally, our slave.'

`We're not going to have any trouble here, are we?' asked Jennifer. `Just to clue you in to a few things, if you make trouble for me and my boyfriend, well, I'm sure you won't do that. My brother-in-law likes my boyfriend, and so do all of my in-laws, and these in-laws of mine can be really sweet but they can also be a bunch of crazy mothers, let me tell you, just the craziest mothers - you know, crazy with knives and revenge - with people disappearing and their bodies never being found - that sort of stuff.'

`Yeah, yeah, we're not going to cause you and Al any trouble,' said Mirabrasantes.

`He looks just like the young Rock Hudson,' said Kayla.

`His compekshun is bad,' said the 3-year-old Buddy.

`His complexion is fine but it was given a low rating because of his personality,' said Kayla, correcting Buddy.

`He is argoomentive,' said Buddy.

`Argumentative,' said Kayla.

`Well I wish he wasn't argumentative!' said Jennifer. `Never heard of Rock Hudson. Oh, he's coming this way....Hi hon.'

`Hi sweetheart,' said Al to Jennifer.

`Hi Al,' said Mirabrasantes.

`How have you been? Hi kids! Nice to see you all again.'

`Hi Al!' yelled the kids.

`Legally you are still our property,' said Kayla.

`Kayla shush!' exclaimed Heliomirabellisima.

`I'll be back in a little while to take your orders,' said Jennifer. `I'm sure we can all be friends and there won't be any trouble. But please understand that no one is going to reimburse you for the price you paid for Al. Like I said, I got these in-laws who know have to deal with their enemies. When they bury `em they stay buried. OK? Got it?'

`Can you bring us some more forks and plates?' asked Kayla.

`You got it,' said Jennifer. `I'll be right back those those.'

As Jennifer retreated to the kitchens the manager of the restaurant came over to the table. He came on like a drill sergeant and started telling these 3 and 4-year-olds that he is shocked, shocked, that they are so scared of a stupid old witch, and if that he had seen that witch he would have spanked her bare bottom, saying he wouldn't be afraid any witches, and they should not be scared either. `Most witches, you know, if you punch them in the nose will run away crying. So next time you see that witch just punch her in the nose.'

`You're not taking us seriously,' said Kayla.

`Oh yes I am, if I ever met that witch I would just pull her pants down and spank her bare bottom, that's what I would do.'

`Excuse me,' said a stranger, a man perhaps 65-years-old, with gray-hair pulled back into a pony tail, brown eyes - a tall lean chap. `Now don't start crying kids - be brave! - but I know that witch, or I know of her - she has a huge black Castle, dark eyes, she's a young and beautiful witch, with lots of wolves - I know who she is – she's Vyryvyr.'

`Exactly,' exclaimed Kayla.

`Well, this guy is the supreme military commander of the city,' said the restaurant manager, `so we can trust him with 100% trust, unless he's an enemy spy, in which case we're really screwed.'

`See you guys later,' said Al.

`Bye Al!' yelled the kids.

`Thanks for stopping by, Al \- take care,' said Mirabrasantes.

The women gave their names and ranks and invited the supreme military commander of the city, Vince, to take a seat with them at an adjoining table where the kids couldn't here them conversing.

`There's no doubt she let you go for a reason. But she never lets anyone go – I mean not alive,' whispered Vince, `so I don't know what to make of this, aside from jumping to the assumption that, you will, unwittingly, do her bidding on your mission in the north.'

`We have Her Majesty's permission, but not her blessing, to perform this mission,' said Mirabrasantes.

`I can't prevent your mission, but as your superior officer I have the authority to help you. What's your plan?'

`Hadn't we better make sure your credentials are in order, such as by going to your office?' asked Heliomirabellisima.

`All right. Finish your meal and then come on over - out the front door, left to the wall, right to the stairs - up the stairs and there's the guard house - and we'll discuss your plan, not that I'm authorized to amend your plan since it is authorized by the Queen.

`There's six other women. We'll bring them to your office.'

`Very good,' said Vince, and then he added: `Watch your backs and watch for daggers when you're around these other women. Vyryvyr must have a spy, or two, or three, among you. She would not have let you leave her Castle alive if she didn't have a scheme of some sort.'

Chapter 10. `When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, "Who do men say that I, the son of Man, am?........And I say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hell will not prevail against it. And I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven and earth, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.' - Matthew 16. 13-19.

Vince's office was on the top of the walls encircling the city of Barerro. Vince and the 9 women watched as two sentries walked past the chairs they were sitting on. The sentries passed every few minutes. They were either old men past the age 70 or else they were women of various ages. A crescent moon was hung in the sky along with Cassiopeia, the Great Bear, Orion etc.

`One or more of you is a spy,' said Vince. `Now, how are we going to determine which one of you it is?'

`We've been all over this, Vince, dear,' said Seraphinaria. `We hashed and re-hashed our religious and political differences. There's just no telling who, if any of us, is the witch's spy.'

`Let's change the subject if we must then,' said Vince.

`The witch and her spies and their scheme can not be divorced from religion,' Navorrasicaa was saying. `So, to review the basics: The Church of Avallonia is the True Church, the Church which Christ founded on a rock. The True Church on earth is currently headed by Her Majesty Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz, who has accepted Christ Jesus, though she has also chosen to keep her title of Rabbi, which is her prerogative as the leader, on earth, of the True Church, as she is the supreme representative of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit - we know that all of these soi-disant Christians who rebel against the Church of Avallonia, and who rebel against the authority of Queen Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz, are heretics, and hence, in a sense, to call a spade a spade, they are satanic heretics in cahoots with both the Devil, and the probably also with the witch, Vyryvyr.'

`Don't listen to her, Vince,' Sevaladelia was saying, `she'll only drag you down to hell. Queen Rabbi Brittany Cohen-Schwartz is not God's supreme representative on earth. The church of Avallonia is not the True Church. It is not the Church which Christ founded on a rock. It is just another false fallen church which leads lost souls to perdition. The church of Avallonia has fallen away from the True Faith. The church of Avallonia is not the True Church, therefore it is just a contrivance of the Devil's.'

`Shut your mouth, devil-bitch!' screamed Seraphinaria at Sevaladelia.

`It would be so wonderful,' Valmyristarsis was saying, `if every last copy of the Bible could be burned. That book just drives people crazy.'

`I thought you were a Christian,' said Martha.

`I think we know who Vyryvyr's spy is,' said Heliomirabellisima.

`Prove it,' said Valmyristarsis. `I don't know what I am, but the Bible drives me crazy.'

`I wasn't necessarily serious in accusing you,' said Heliomirabellisima.

`If I was Vyryvyr's spy,' said Valmyristarsis, `which I'm not, but if Vyryvyr really is a witch, and if I really was her spy, then I saved your life, because credible people say she never lets people leave her Castle alive unless she has some evil scheme in mind, but I'm not her spy, so I didn't save your life. Someone else did.'

`Like I was saying,' said Vince, `let's get off the subject of religion.'

`You're either in the True Church, the Church of Avallonia, which leads souls to Heaven, dear Vince, or you're in one of the innumerable false churches which leads souls to perdition,' said Navorrasicaa. `What's wrong with you people? Why can't you agree with St. Paul and Seraphinaria and me? I would advise you people to resist the heresy of Sevaladelia, who is puffed up with pride in her rebellion against the True Church, though Seraphinaria was perhaps too strenuous, and perhaps too short on charity in her characterization of Sevaladelia as a "devil-bitch."'

`Yes, perhaps!' said Sevaladelia.

`Now Navorrasicaa, dear,' said Valmyristarsis, `you must liberate your mind from the religious chains that are strangling your mind.'

`And what about the chains on you?' asked Navorrasicaa. `Can't you see you must embrace the True God and His True Church, or else you will be damned to hell forever? What else does Luke 13. 3 say but - unless ye repent ye will surely perish?'

`The Bible drives people crazy!' exclaimed Valmyristarsis. `Though I suppose this doesn't prove it is wrong.'

`I agree with Sevaladelia,' said Mirabrasantes. `It's crazy to believe that the church of Avallonia is the True Church. And yet to say there is no True Church is the same thing as rejecting Christianity.'

`Are ye a papist? You're certainly some sort of hell-bound heretick with talk like that,' said Seraphinaria. `You're sullen tonight Casilevatates. Are you Vyryvyr's spy? Is your mind preoccupied with her diabolical plans and instructions?'

`Uhhhh....no.'

`So, Sevaladelia, you say the church of Avallonia is a false, fallen, perjuring church which leads souls to perdition. That is a diabolical doctrine,' insisted Seraphinaria. `I don't see how you are going to advance your career in the Avallonian Army and Avallonian society by pushing the opinion that the church of Avallonia leads souls to perdition! Honestly, Sevaladelia, I wonder about you. You sabotage your chances for a happy afterlife with your diabolical doctrines, and then, on top of that, you also sabotage your chances for a happy life before the afterlife, with the same damned diabolical doctrines. I thought you were smarter than that. If you're going to make a deal with the devil you ought to be able to make a better deal than that lousy deal.'

`You beautiful warrior girls are providing excellent entertainment tonight with all your religious talk,' said young Luke, the orphan lad. He had been eavesdropping for a few minutes. `Who could forget that wonderfully succinct line: "Shut your mouth, devil-bitch" Can you believe that? That's first-rate entertainment. And who is the spy that is working for the foul witch, Vyryvyr? Who could it be? Oh who could it be?'

`Is it you? Are you the witch's spy?' asked Martha.

`My advice to you,' began Vince, `is the same as the Queen's: give up this suicide mission. Give it up.'

`Never,' said Seraphinaria.

`If you insist on pursuing your plan,' continued Vince, `then, continue your march across the northern plains, climb those mountains, have this eavesdropping lad, Luke here, pose as a Krull refugee, employ him to get inside the walls of Cromwell Town, get control of the city, then signal that you have control of it by lighting a bonfire atop the wall above the city for one hour, then extinguish it for a few minutes, then relight it and keep it lit for an hour. My agents will be watching for this signal. When they see the signal they will send word to me and I will send an army to help you hold on to the city which you have re-conquered for Avallonia. Try to not to be torn apart by religious strife. This is not to say that there is no right side in the religious strife. But, you must agree to disagree; you must agree to set the strife aside, for a little while at least, so you can work together and get on with other business.'

`You're all crazy if you think I'll pose as a Krull refugee to do your bidding,' said Luke. `After all I heard tonight I'll be looking to save my own sweet self before I'll be looking to help you ladies capture any walled cities.'

`You're not thinking very clearly tonight, Luke, honey,' said Casilevatates. `Did you have too much champagne at the fancy restaurant? Let me remind you why you're going to masquerade as a Krull refugee. You're the only hope we have to do the job. If we send one of the orphan girls, Jocelyn or Jasmine, she will just make a slip-up - they both would blow it \- I know they will blow it -I can sense these things - they'll get their throats cut after the Hibernians make them talk to discover who has been assisting them, then the Hibernians will learn where we are hidden. Then we'll be at the mercy of the barbaric Hibernians. Then you'll get tossed to the tigers and eaten alive, because you won't get any mercy from the barbaric Hibernians......But you are well trained. You know how to say SKED-yool and rem-ON-strate, Zero and TaMAYtoh. And you look just like a Krull refugee, being all scruffy and disheveled as you invariably are. If you don't do it we'll have to train a different kid to do it. But the new kid won't be as good as you. He or she will blow it, and that will be the end of all of us. We'll all get thrown to the Hibernian's man-eating tigers. But you won't blow it. So that's why you are going to masquerade as a Krull refuge. If you still refuse to help us, the whole Kingdom of Avallonia will know that you are a coward. You don't want that! It's not so easy to make a living in this world - our husbands are dead and there aren't any men left that we can make into new husbands. We're going to cash in by re-conquering Cromwell Town. And if you are smart and loyal and brave you'll get your cut of the profits. So, you have two big incentives to masquerade as a Krull refuge. 1) The whole Kingdom of Avallonia will accuse you of being a worthless coward if you don't pose as a Krull refuge. And, 2) There won't be any cash for you – and there won't be an heroic honors for you either - if you refuse to masquerade as a Krull refuge. So that's why you are going to masquerade as a Krull refuge.'

`Oh, we better find someone else to do his job,' said Sevaladelia.

`No!' exclaimed Luke.

`Luke, honey' said Seraphinaria trying to put some tenderness in her voice. `You mustn't judge our religious strife too harshly. We all agreed to disagree about religion, that is, we all agreed to stay off the subject, but then we met that witch, Vyryvyr, and that threw us off our pledge a bit. I'm the commander of this operation and I make the final decision about who poses as a Krull refugee and who doesn't. No one is going to think you are a coward if you decided you did not want to risk posing as a Krull refugee. Please understand that right now. No one will consider you a coward! Despite what you've been told, the plan, all along, has been for me, not you, to pose as this refugee. But if I had an accident, or got sick, then we need a backup plan. You and some other people are the backup plans. It may be that you will want to come with me, and we can both pose as Krull refugees, but to do this we have to do it right. Look how thin I am. I weighed 120 lbs two months ago but now I weigh under 90 lbs. When I show up at the gates of Cromwell Town I plan on weighing 69 lbs or less. I'll have thin little arms and gaunt, sunken cheeks. Not all Krull refugees are emaciated but it will be easier to convince the Hibernian interrogators that I am a Krull refugee if I am emaciated rather than if I am well-fed. Think about whether or not you want to come with me. But we won't let you pose as a refugee if you look well-fed. You'll need to go on a diet. You'll need to lose at least 20 pounds. We have to get them to trust us long enough for us to find a rope in the city without being seen - this ought to be easier for two people to do than for one - and we have to use that rope to get 7 warrior women on top of the wall without raising an alarm - and then we have to get control of the wall without raising an alarm - and then we have to take control of the gate and the guard house, and then we have to hold on until the Avallonian Army comes to relieve us. After we take control of the gate and guard house we'll send the signal Vince spoke of, and Martha Manning, who with be minding the kids, will see this, as will Vince's agents. Obviously, you will be a bigger hero if you are with the warrior women helping to conquer the city, rather than if you are waiting with Martha and the other kids. So you should think about going on a diet starting tomorrow.'

Chapter 11. Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and upon thy holy city....and the end thereof shall be with a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are determined.....' - Daniel 9. 24-27.

The following morning they rose early to ensure that everything was in order for the big send off. They double and triple checked to make sure they were well-stocked with no end of snow goggles and sun glasses and anti-sunburn cream, mountain climbing ropes and climbing ironmongery, thick woolen garments and windproof canvas outer-clothing, sheepskin gloves, sheepskin moccasins, leather boots, woolen blankets, eider down sleeping bags, air mattresses, 30 small windproof canvas bivouac sacks, 10 huge windproof canvas tents. They had 100 pounds of canned tomatoes, 100 pounds of canned mangos, 100 pounds of canned pears, 300 pounds of flour and same for pasta, 100 pounds of olive oil and corn oil, 500 pounds of rice and potatoes, 1,000 cans of condensed milk, 1,000 cans tuna, 100 pounds of smoked fish, 500 pounds of salt beef, 100 bottles of whisky, 400 pounds of chocolate, 1,000 pounds of sugar, 100 pounds of tea, 100 pounds of coffee, 100 pounds of soap, plus plenty of razors and iodine, bandages and splints for broken arms and legs; they had no end of miscellaneous items which 31 people would need to survive in the wilderness for several months, such as 500 gallons of kerosene and 5 Chogalisa® stoves; fodder for the horses in the form of a half ton of oats, and 400 pounds of dried apples would need to be taken. The 4 horses would have to haul a total of 4 tons of provisions and gear 200 miles - they had a big well-built 40 foot wagon, a 4 axle contraption - then the assault team would have to haul all they could haul over the mountains. Perhaps they would draw lots to see which woman stayed behind with the 4 horses. Perhaps they would just turn them loose. Every kid was expected to lend a hand in the storming of the walled city. The three-year-olds were almost four, and a four-year-old can be toughed up a lot with the right training. For weapons they had longbows and crossbows, swords and axes and knives, plus a 20 foot by 20 foot net made of hemp. Here the idea was a net would be useful in slowing down a charging cave bear - which can weigh 2,500 pounds or more. They would have to stop it somehow if they couldn't drive it off with firebrands.

The morning also saw them attending to one final round of fund-raising duties before they made the big push north. Barerro was the 4th largest city in Avallonia, and it was by far the largest in the northern regions. Being only 10 miles from the sea, easily reached by a narrow but deep estuary, enabled it to have many highly profitable commercial operations. Seraphinaria was off to Burke & Wochenfuss Pharmaceutical Ltd., to shake down an Executive Vice President named Mick Sparrow. Valmyristarsis was bound for Miss Margaret Collingsworth's Caramel and Nougat Cos. This was a cold call but Valmyristarsis had targeted a few principals she wanted to talk to and she was confident they would see her. Casilevatates was assured of getting past the security guards at McTavish & Glensheen Distilleries Ltd. - Makers of Superior Single Malt Whiskies - as she had an appointment at 10:00 am to see an EVP named Jack Windsor. Mirabrasantes drew for her lot Plantagenet Bank Ltd, and their Managing Director Pamela Featherstone-Haugh (pronounced Fanshaw). Navorrasicaa would find herself at Buckley & Biggleston Foundries, Mines & Shipbuilding Ltd., where a Saskia Sackville-Slaughter, VP of Public Relations, would meet a panhandling Navorrasicaa. The Managing Director of McMichael & Bond's Pot Pies Ltd., Dougal McDougal, was kind enough to see Misevasundia at 10:30 am. Sevaladelia would be at MacAlpine, Sugarman & Brazzi LLC. - a Law Firm with over 1,000 Attorneys Providing Product Liability Litigation Services - to see Hamish MacAlpine, a Highlander with a reputation for being a ferocious litigator. Heliomirabellisima had an appointment at 10:00 am at Madame Chang's Weaponry & Explosives Ltd., dba The Causus Belli Group - Consulting Experts in Plausible Deniability Advisement, Sabotage, Extortion, Assassinations, Espionage, Black Ops and Disinformation Campaigns, to meet with an EVP named Hermione Wright-Masters. Martha Manning was assigned to pitch an executive at Trashy Books®, an Imprint of Naughty Girl Publishing Co.®, a wholly owned subsidiary of The Ecstasy-Erotica Group®, a big south coast holding firm. Martha had conversed briefly in the lobby with Trashy Books® Managing Director, Jane Trane, and was told flat out her schedule was always going to be full. Always! Martha kept insisting she had proof of Her Majesty's authorization of their campaign, but, nevertheless, Martha suspected, even if an extortioner was standing behind Jane Trane twisting her arm, trying to force her to agree to talk to Martha in her office, Jane would still have declined to meet with Martha in her office. Even the 11-year-old Desiree, the 10-year-old Jackson, and the 9-year-old Luke thought they would trot over to see a Jill Ostrogoth at Trottingham & Daughters Grocers Ltd., being sure to take a copy of Her Majesty's Certificate of Authorization for their privateering venture with them, to see if they could get some cash out of Jill for the cause.

Casilevatates' meeting with Jack Windsor, EVP at McTavish & Glensheen Distilleries Ltd., Makers of Superior Single Malt Whiskies, was unique in that she not only got a promise for even more money once some cash flow issues had been cleared up, but she walked out Jack's office with a cheque for £5,000 in her hand. She knew Jack would hand over some money because he kept interrupting her sales pitch with comments like: `I despise the cut and run crowd!' and `Those rotters!' and `Damn those surrender monkeys to Hell, I say!" Jack started off with the usual tough questions and penetrating analysis: `Privateers, huh? Who else do you have for corporate sponsors? I see you have documentation from Her Majesty authorizing this mad undertaking. Let me get this straight. There's 8 other women like yourself - Ok 7 like you and one old girl - and 22 kids all under the age of 11 - and you propose to march 200 miles to the north, then cross 50 miles of the most rugged mountain terrain, then capture a walled city defended mostly by women and children, but still defended also by some nasty old geezers who aren't above using the most vicious methods of medieval vengeance against their enemies: the rack, the stake, the wheel, man-eating tigers, man-eating cave bears etc. I know the times require desperate measures, but your plan looks hopeless. I suppose you have in your favor your daring, and the element of surprise. It would of course be a great windfall for you if you could pull it off. And it would be a good deal for me too if you succeed. Let's roll the dice on this one. We can't let this nation be taken down into the gutter by the rotters, by the cut and run crowd. Just sign this Sponsorship Agreement and I'll cut you a cheque for £5,000. And I'll get you a little more from my own funds once a cheque that I'll get in a day or two clears. You'll be gone by then but you have my word you'll get it. We're all set then! Business is really looking up these days. Even though the menfolk were basically all killed off in the wars, you women are finally learning to appreciate fine whiskey in a big way - finally! - so we're not hurting here at McTavish & Glensheen, not like we were a few years ago anyway.'

Once their sales calls were completed they had a chance to post some self-promotional letters. There were still some letter boxes in a village 100 miles to the north. It would be best to post their best, most polished self-promotional letters from that village, and indeed after that village there were no more places to post a letter, at least not until they re-conquered Cromwell Town and re-integrated that city into the Kingdom of Avallonia. They also converted that cheque from McTavish & Glensheen into gold, gold being easy to cache in the wilderness and universally accepted for all debts public and private, even by barbarians such as by the Hibernians and the Krull.

That afternoon, after a huge pub lunch of Fish and Chips, Burgers and Pizzas, Chops and Steaks and lots and lots of rounds of club soda and McTavish & Glensheen Single Malt to wash it all down - though both Luke and Seraphinaria ate and drank very sparingly - 8 warrior women, one middle-aged lady, and 22 children marched out of the city of Barerro. Like Queen Boudicca leading her ill-fated army into battle, Seraphinaria had to suspect hers also was a lost cause. She wasn't in a good mood because Mick Sparrow, who she met at Burke & Wochenfuss Pharmaceuticals Ltd that morning, was a sneering little punk. He gave her nothing. She would have to lead her troops into battle while remembering the insufferable sneers of the insufferable Mick. Burke & Wochenfuss had made huge obscene filthy piles of profit off of the wars. Now the tight-wad, the rotter, the little cut and run creep, wouldn't even give her a few pounds. No, Seraphinaria was not in the most positive of moods as she watched as their compact horde of 22 little kids, 8 warrior women, one old girl, one huge wagon and the 4 horses that pulled it, headed north. She was hungry but her spirits revived along with her indefatigable optimism as she munched on three dried apricots. The sun was shining brightly and the winter air was not terribly cold. The big powerful work-horses had little difficulty pulling their load, as the gravel road was frozen solid. And there was little snow on the road, certainly no drifts, or for that matter, there was little snow on the moorlands stretching out to the distant horizons on both sides of the road leading north. In two more days they would skirt the western side of the mountains which were visible from Barreiro. These were merely outlying peaks, 50 miles to the north and east of that city, and they were not the great range 150 miles further to the north, the great range which divided Avallonia, Hibernia, and the Krull Republic from each other.

Chapter 12. `Every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire - Matthew 3. 10

Martha Manning was looking out at the collection of women and children. Her eyes beheld Luke, the 9-year-old orphan boy, sitting on a blanket, on the snow, not to far from those other orphans - Jasmine and Jocelyn. Here was Seraphinaria with her son, Jackson, her daughter, Morgan and her youngest Jay-Jay. Valmyristarsis was with her 4-year-old, Hamilton, who everyone called Buddy. Martha Manning thought the other women, who gave given some speeches, should have done a better job covering the basics of mountain survival. They had arrived at the foot of the great mountain range. In less than ten days they had ventured 200 miles north from Barreiro. Now the kids would have to be carried up a granite wall 7,000 feet high. The fixed ropes, which took them a few days to put in place, extended more than half that distance, to a level spot where the kids could rest, at least rest until the fixed ropes below them had been repositioned and fixed above them. Way high up there, 7,000 feet above them, assuming no one died from a plunge of thousands of feet, becoming a bloody mess with one's bones busted and twisted, their most formidable enemy would be the intense cold. Martha ran over some mental notes. She thought it best not to crack any jokes about how they would have to slaughter the horses or barbeque the horses to make meat so they wouldn't starve. That sort of shock humor wasn't funny with anyone, and it would just make the littlest kids weep. It would be like telling a kid she had to kill her dog to survive. Martha decided to tell the kids the horses would be turned loose. They could fend for themselves, though it hadn't actually been decided what would be done with them. There was still plenty of oats and dried apples and carrots. When they finished with that fodder they might walk back to the city of Barerro. If they didn't walk to Barreiro, then spring would arrive in two or three months, and then there would be plenty of grass for them to eat, though they might have a tough time digging through the snow to find enough grass to survive on until spring arrived. Martha decided she had to stress the importance of communication, and stress the necessity of giving immediate attention to cold fingers and toes before they developed frostbite. Talk to each other people. That was a line her teachers always used. If your foot is black with frostbite then why didn't you tell someone earlier? We could have lit a stove for you! Don't be stoical about cold fingers and toes. You kids are too stoical half the time and not stoical enough the other half of the time. Martha looked into the eyes of the children around her and for a second or two she thought she was leading these little lambs to slaughter. She had to give a speech to reassure herself on a few points. Yes, Martha thought it might be best if she make a speech, just so everyone knew what they were up against, just so she didn't feel as if she was leading little lambs to slaughter. But how would she get these little kids to listen to her? What did they need to hear right at this moment? How would she phrase matters? Martha thought she should begin with the simplest stuff, and then she could move on to the more difficult stuff. And what was the simplest stuff?

`Alright kids,' began Martha Manning as she rose to her feet, `those of us who are adults need you kids to do some things. So listen up. Your life depends on it.' Everyone had stopped talking and everyone was looking at Martha.

`We need you kids to be both tough and smart. You got to be smart, because, say, for instance, you need to take a leak, well, you got to look down, you have to look down below you, when you are climbing this mountain, to see if there is anyone right below you. So, when you pull your pants down to take a leak, you have to make sure you don't hit anyone below you when you are taking a leak. So, you have to be smart.'

These words brought some smirks and horseplay from the kids, but they were still listening.

`We also,' continued Martha, `need you kids to be tough. But you have to be tough in a smart way. You have to tell one of us adults if your little toes or if your little fingers are freezing, because we don't want you to get frostbite. If you get frostbite we'll have to chop off your fingers and toes, because, if we didn't chop them off, they would become gangrenous, and then you would die. So you have to tell us if you are freezing. You must tell us if your little fingers or your little toes get cold. But if you are simply tired, if you are simply out of breath, if you are simply scared of heights, then shut up and be tough. We're not asking you kids to do the impossible. I'm not asking you to perform a miracle in getting yourselves over these huge mountains. Like when Mike Eruzioni and the boys beat the Soviet Red Army in the Miracle on Ice. But that wasn't a miracle. The Americans were damn good hockey players, and though, probably, the Russians would have beaten them 9 out of 10 times, nevertheless, winning on a 1 out of 10 shot is not a miracle! Anyone can understand that cashing in on a 1 in 10 shot is not a miracle. Don't listen to what Al Michaels says. It's wasn't any damn miracle. We're not asking you to perform any miracles here, people. You are perfectly capable of getting your little butts over these here big mountains. You can do it. You just have to bear down - you got to be tough, like Norm Bulaich of the Baltimore Colts was tough when he busted through the line and just steamrolled that one guy in the Super Bowl. Rick Pitino, Paul Pierce and the Boston Celtics are not going to come riding down that road there to carry you kids over the mountains to save you from a lot of and blood, sweat, tears, toil and anguish. But it's not all hell and misery. It's like in `Breakfast at Tiffanies' when Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard are having some tough times. But there's still good times too, like when Audrey is singing `Moon River', and when they find their cold wet cat again at the end of the movie. So you got to be tough and you got to be smart, too, like when Joe Thiesman of Notre Dame would go into the Big House in Ann Arbor, and the Michigan Defensive had these huge angry homicidal dudes from the Detroit ghettos that just wanted to murder Joe Theisman, but Joe was smart, you know, he held on to the ball till the last second, till the receiver came open, and he stood in the pocket and took the punishment, especially when it was essential that he move the chains; yes, he hung in there and took a beating when he had to connect with open receivers, both in the red zone or outside of the red zone. But he was smart too. I mean he wouldn't just stand there in the pocket like a damn statue. He would make little side-stepping moves to avoid linemen or blitzing linebackers when the Wolverines were collapsing the pocket - but, you know, when you're playing against Joe Theismann, if you live by the dog you're gonna die by the dog - cause Joe will pick you apart all day long - so, Joe Theisman was smart because he didn't take more punishment than he had to - I mean he wasn't crazy - but he had to take some punishment. You can't go into the Big House and come out with a W without getting the crap kicked out of you to some extent. Everyone knows that. So you too have to be smart - tell us if your little toes and fingers are freezing, but you just have to be tough about other things. You can't go into the Big House and expect to come out with a W by playing candy-ass football. You gotta play smash-mouth football if you're going to go into Ann Arbor and come out with a W. So, you 3-year-olds, and you 7-year-olds, this here mountain behind me is like the Big House in Ann Arbor, and all the cold and exhaustion that's going to hit us the next few days or weeks is like all those big mean-ass angry mothers from the ghettos of Detroit - oh excuse me – I mean those student-athletes from the economically depressed sections of the Motor City - that were trying to murder Joe Theismann in front of 100,000 screaming fanatics. You're going to be exhausted. You're going to get the crap kicked out of you by these here mountains. But you can't be a candy-ass and quit. You can't be a baby if you want to get over these here mountains. So you're going to have to be tough, and smart, whether you're trying to get over these mountains, or whether you`re trying to move the chains, or whether you're going to go into Ann Arbor to come out with a W. You're going to have to fight and battle to get over this here mountain. So just keep battling, just keep battling, just keep battling. But tell us if you are freezing. Don't be a dumb-ass by getting your toes and fingers frozen. Don't be afraid to speak up if you are cold. We don't want to chop off your frozen little fingers and your frozen little toesies. But we might have to chop them off to save your lives. So, please, please, please, tell us if you get cold. But if you are just tired and exhausted then tough it out. And then once we get off the mountain' -Martha was getting pretty warmed up as she was looking into the eyes of the kids, kids ranging in age from 3-year-olds to 11-year-olds, and, while she knew her speech was drawing lots of vacant stares, nevertheless she continued on with her sports analogies - `when we get off the mountain, well, you know, in war, and make no mistake, we are going into war, boys and girls, and in war it's either kill or be killed, and that's sort of the way it is when you're trying to win championships in sports. If you want to play championship baseball then you can't be afraid to pitch inside, you can't be all namby-pamby afraid to bring that 100 mph speedball right under the batter's chin; or when you're ballin' on the hardcourt, you can toss it in to the big man in the middle and then when he kicks it out you got to knock down the open J if you got the open look, but when you really need a bucket in crunch time then you got to drive hard to the rack and knock `em down from the charity stripe. I mean there's way to win a war and there are ways to lose a war; there's way to playing winning ball and ways to play losing ball; you got to block-out, you got to keep the other team off the offensive glass; if you want to win then you can't always be setting it up in your half-court offense; you got to get some easy buckets in transition; so you got to reward the big man when he runs the court; you got to give the big man a reason to run the court the next time and the next time, so reward the big man when he runs the court; get the ball to the big man for the easy slam when he runs the court; and you got to hammer the little man when he drives the paint; when the little man goes hard to the rack and challenges your big trees in the paint then you got to hammer the little man; sure if you can knock `em down from 3-point land all night long, then knock `em down. But to get to the Promised Land, to get the ring, you usually got to get to the charity stripe and win it in crunch time. Like I say, you got to pitch inside - up and in! up and in! - you can't always be nibbling on the corners; and when you're a receiver coming across the middle going for the ball then you got to catch the damn ball even though backers and D-backs are trying to take your head off. And when your QB drops back in the pocket he can't be a dumb-ass who takes three days to read a damn defense. If he can't move the chains cause he can't read a D then get him the hell out of there and find a damn QB who can read a damn defense. How the hell are you going to get to the Promised Land if you can't move the damn chains? Anyway, our best hope is the element of surprise, but I'm not saying it won't come down to a vicious fight at times, you know, kill or be killed. You got to smack the big man and you got smack the little man and got to keep on smacking them and smacking them. We are going into a hostile environment, and when you go into a hostile environment then it's either kill or be killed. Never forget what George C. Scott told us - no poor dumb son-of-bitch ever won a war by dying for his country. You win wars by making the other poor dumb son-of-bitch die for his country. When you go into a hostile environment, when you go into the Big House in Ann Arbor, or when you go into the Horseshoe in Columbus, or when you got into Happy Valley, then you're going into battle, gentlemen, and ladies, and in battle you just got to keep bashing the enemy, just keep bashing them, and bashing them. Generally speaking, when you go to war, you just got to keep killing the enemy, you got to just keep killing and killing, just keep killing and killing, killing and killing and killing and killing and killing. You know? But our mission is a little different, because we shouldn't have to do too much killing. We're hoping that there aren't any big brutal male sentries, and not too many big brutal female sentries for that matter either, guarding the walls of that walled city. If we can keep the element of surprise, if we can get our soldiers on top of that wall, without the enemy knowing it, and then if we can storm the guard house and get control of that and the main gate, without taking or inflicting many casualties, then if we can set up a barricade and send up the bonfire signal to our side, and just hold on till the Avallonian Army arrives, then things ought to work out perfectly for us. You've all studied maps of where this guard house is. It's right by the main gate, right off the main thoroughfare - right off Gerry Adams Boulevard - formerly Ian Paisley Parkway. If we lose the element of surprise then we'll probably have to make a quick retreat or else surrender. If we kill some of their soldiers during the fight, and then if we have to surrender, then they might throw some us to the tigers, so heads up about that. That's all the more reason to not lose the element of surprise. Seraphinaria is the commander of this unit not me, but you mothers listening to me want to protect your kids, and you know the enemy will be enraged if we kill some of their soldiers, so, if we do kill some of their soldiers then we better take control of that city, or we at least better make a successful retreat, because we have to assume they'll throw us to their man-eating tigers if they capture us after we have killed some of their people. But if we just keep our heads there's no reason we can't take that city and hold on till our army comes. We won't be thrown into any cages filled with man-eating tigers if we're smart, if we don't make any dumb mistakes.'

Martha didn't like the looks she was getting from the kids, from the 3 and 4-year-olds especially, many of whom were now crying. No doubt much of her violent imagery was just too much for the smaller tykes. Honestly, telling little kids they might get eaten by man-eating tigers! And since she had just about run out of sports clichés she thought it best that she just wrap things up and sit down and stop speaking. Martha could be a tough critic of Martha. And now she was feeling really low, feeling as if everyone was thinking she was a crazy woman. She knew these people didn't understand her sports references. She gave those references because, well because, she knew now, to her disgust, that she just wanted to hear herself talk and talk and talk. Such vanity! `Get easy buckets in transition' and `Reward the big man'. Oh, brother! Hubie Brown, who used to coach the Knicks, always used that phrase, and Martha couldn't resist quoting Hubie Brown. What a chatterbox was Martha, and she knew it. She did push some simple messages at both the beginning and the end of her talk, as it doesn't get much simpler than: look below you when you're taking a leak! and don't get frostbite! and, try to keep the element of surprise! and try to avoid getting eaten by the man-eating tigers! She couldn't be accused of being unintelligible on those points. But were the key points lost in all of her extraneous material? Martha had nevertheless gotten some things off her chest, and she no longer felt that she was leading innocent lambs to slaughter, so, whether her speech was much of a success or not with her audience, Martha felt better about some things, even though she was feeling pretty low and stupid about some other things. And even if she earned for herself the reputation of being a crazy woman who spoke a lot of gibberish about sports, she was nevertheless ready to begin leading little kids up the huge merciless mountain and into the heart of the enemy territory, though she also hoped she hadn't convinced too many of kids that she was crazy.

`I liked what Martha was saying, though I didn't understand most of it,' began Seraphinaria. `I do think she was very clear on the most important parts. Now we've been over and over and over about how we expect you kids to know how to hold on to your fingers and toes. You know how to hold on to your fingers and toes, right? We've been over and over how you must tell an adult if you are cold. We'll chop your fingers and toes off if we have to. We'll chop `em off! I swear to you we'll chop `em off! I don't want to say to one you: this little piggy went to market, but this little piggy got frostbite and had to be chopped off.'

Some of the little kids started to scream and weep again at the end of Seraphinaria's speech. They feared that all this chopping of fingers and toes was merely random, indiscriminate acts of savagery from insane adults, as the youngest kids were very unclear about the concepts of frostbite and gangrene. No doubt the mothers thought some tough love from Seraphinaria was not out of line, but it was not easy to explain to the youngest kids when one of their fingers or toes would have to be chopped off, and when it wouldn't have to be chopped off.

`We've also been over and over and over,' said Misevasundia as she began her pre-invasion speech, `that we want everyone to keep up with their journals. We have to leave our logs here in Avallonia, because of Queen Brittany's direct order. But she didn't say we couldn't keep our diaries. So, everyone who knows how to read and write must keep a diary. When we are negotiating with publishing companies to get the best book deals possible, it is essential that we be able to write the best books possible, so we need you people to keep good notes and diaries, so nothing important gets forgotten. When the story of our heroic re-conquest of Cromwell Town is written it must include everything important, so keep memos of all the important stuff - like how you wish you would just die during those times when you are just being crushed under all the anguish and suffering being heaped upon you - like how you wish a huge chunk of ice would fall on you and crush you and put you out of your misery - because you just can't take any more suffering from the bitter winds and the bitter cold and the terrible hunger and the endless hell you have to endure in marching through deep snow up and over and across these interminable mountains etc., etc. So don't forget to keep notes about important things - like how you felt when you almost slipped and fell thousands of feet to your death, or how you felt when someone close to you slipped and fell thousands of feet to their death! What did you feel in your heart as you watched your friend or relative go cart-wheeling down the mountainside? Did you see any blood and guts go flying? What did their screams sound like? Did their plaintive wails make you weep tears of bitter anguish? Did they hold out their arms in desperate supplication as they fell to their deaths? Readers want the details, gory details, emotion-filled details, details which fill the readers with either pity and heartbreak or bliss and exaltation, so give the readers what they want. Give it to them please....Again, we don't want anyone to get frostbite while they are writing in their diary! Though from the perspective of maximizing the number of books we sell I suppose it would be best if some of you people had some fingers and toes chopped off, because readers like that sort of gritty realism. Again, we expect everyone, even you 3-year-olds, to know how to hold on to your fingers and toes - as has been said in all seriousness, over and over - we'll chop off your little fingers and little toes if you let them freeze! - But let's also keep up with our diaries, people. If you forget to write down something important that happens, then you might forget about it entirely. Don't think you will be able to remember every detail of every horrible experience that you have on these mountains, and while in combat with the enemy, thinking that you could never possibly forget events that are that horrible. Trust me. You'll forget important stuff pertaining to your despair and your anguish if you don't make a note of it. If you forget important stuff then the books we write probably won't sell as many copies as they could have sold. And the lecture tours we give won't be as riveting as they could be. So that's less money in your pocket, and less money in my pocket, and that aint' right.'

These speeches were not belated even though they had been at the base of the mountain for 14 days when those speeches were delivered. For the previous 14 days, during days of good weather and days of bad, their actions were very similar to the actions of pack mules. They carried no end of heavy loads up the mountains. The kids had a very easy time of it, aside from the tedium of having nothing to do. The eight strong women first established fixed ropes up to the level place on the mountain, 4,000 feet above the valley. Mountain climbing is really quite safe and simple under certain conditions, such as when: there is no chance of death by avalanche, there is no chance of death by falling into a crevasse hidden under the snow, there is no chance of dying by being struck by falling ice or rocks. When these conditions prevail then climbers are generally quite safe provided they establish sound belays on sound rock and sound ice. 3 days were required to find sound belays to position the fixed ropes up to the level spot 4,000 feet above the valley. They didn't have enough rope to lay in fixed ropes extending all the way up the 7,000 foot granite wall, a wall generally angled at 60 degrees. Thus they worked in two stages. 11 days were spent by the young women going up and down, and up and down, jumaring loads of food and kerosene, tents and equipment and clothing up the fixed ropes. The speeches they gave stressed the horrors of frostbite. But those warnings were given just to be on the safe side. They actually had an easy time and were never seriously threatened by dangerously frigid temperatures. Once they raised 2,000 pounds of supplies to the top of the wall, to the 7,000 foot level, they were no longer in danger of death by falls or avalanches. There was still the danger of crevasses, but with a little precaution - such as by traveling in single file all roped together on one rope - the main threat of death for all of them now came from an attack by an enemy patrol while the trudged through deep snow while carrying 70lbs packs. They were 7,000 feet up a 15,000 foot mountain, and now they had to traverse the west side of this mountain. The slope was gentle enough on the West Face to make a slip inconsequential and avalanches impossible. It was however a four mile trek across the West Face. Then there was a slight descent and then a long gradual walk up to the 15,000 foot pass separating two 20,000 foot mountains. From this pass they could look down into the valley of the Deuce. Far down in the valley, 30 miles away from the top of the pass, was Cromwell Town. It took 7 women, 11 days to haul 2,000 lbs of kerosene, gear and provisions to the top of the 7,000 foot wall. 1,000 lbs was cached there. Then 5 more days were required to haul the other 1,000 lbs 10 horizontal miles and lifted up to 15,000 feet. Everything was downhill from there. During the 16 days of heavy hauling for 7 young women, the kids could play, or sleep in the tents, or help the little kids learn to read. Seraphinaria, because of her emaciated condition, and Martha, because of her advancing age, were excused from hauling duty. Their main responsibility was to be vigilant in making sure the kids wore their goggles to avoid snow-blindness. The days were soft and easy for some, drudgery for others, but the sunsets were especially beautiful and it was always fun to gather round the stoves at night to drink hot chocolate under the starry skies. These nights were never brutally cold and even at their coldest everyone was cozy under their parkas and eiderdown blankets. The only drama they had during these 16 days of sweating and hauling was from Casilevatates' daughter Camille, who would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares. Every night that they were on the West Face, Camille would dream that Vyryvyr was in Cromwell Town, just waiting there to throw everyone to the tigers. At one point Casilevatates was thinking she might tell Seraphinaria, as many others had done, that she wondered if Camille's dreams might be warnings from God and not merely random nightmares.

Chapter 13. `The Devil walks about like a roaring lion' - 1 Peter 5. 8

Seraphinaria had been starving herself until she weighed 73 lbs. This was well above her goal weight, but she seemed emaciated enough to convincingly pose as a Krull refugee. Luke's cheeks were sunken and with his shirt off you could see all of his ribs. The two of them arrived at the main gate thoroughly exhausted. They were challenged by sentries atop the wall and they declared themselves citizens of The Krull Republic, and claimed they were the victims of brigands, and they said they were seeking refuge in Cúchulainn, being careful of course not to call it Cromwell Town. The gate swung open and the Hibernian guards waved them in. They were given many cups of water to quench their thirst. Then they sat in the guard house until a woman came to meet them. She took them to some barracks where they first bathed, and then were fed, and then were shown to some beds where the could sleep after "their exhausting 50 mile hike through the mountains after being attacked by brigands".

The next morning Luke awoke from his sleep to find a lovely blonde 14-year-old girl named Debra pulling him out of his bed. She was running hot water for Luke's bath and Debra was soon pouring bubble bath into the tub and then giving Luke, plunged up to his neck in warm water and white bubbles, a good scrubbing. The two of them were talking about those terrible brigands - big mean males. `That's odd that Seraphinaria was not assaulted by those men,' said Debra. `Most brigands are the worst sort, you know. They'll force themselves upon a woman as readily as they'll steal money from her.' Debra was saying all this as her hands were on Luke's body, as she scrubbed his shoulders and back and chest etc. extra clean with a bar of soap. At one point Debra said she was very lonely because all the young men and teenage boys were killed in the wars. And then Debra told Luke, flat out, that he, a 9-year-old boy, was not too young for her, a 14-year-old girl. Debra was saying that in 10 years, or 5 years for that matter, no one would care about the difference in their ages. Luke told Debra that she was very lovely and wonderful, though he was thinking it was all a subterfuge: Debra was just part of the vetting process. When the bath and then breakfast were finished, Debra insisted on giving Luke and Seraphinaria a tour of the city. When they got back from their tour some other girls insisted on helping Debra give Luke yet another bubble bath. This really put Luke on his guard and ready for the sucker punch - and the sucker punch would come when these lovely girls giving him his second bubble bath that day would begin to fire questions at him: what are you doing here? what do you want? tell us about your friends. If you are really from Krull then describe for us your home town. Aren't you really a spy from Avallonia? Those sorts of questions. But the girls never asked those questions. Luke was fed and clothed and treated to wonderful hospitality, as was Seraphinaria. For three days both of them were treated with nothing but great kindness. But then the hammer fell. On the fourth day armed female soldiers brought the both of them to the office of the sub-commander of the town garrison, a Captain Kate O'Callaghan.

`Your accents are not too bad, but they are still wrong,' began the Captain. `We were confident right away that you were not Krull refugees because you smelled too sweet. Real Krull refugees just stink to high heaven, and most of them are still fat, and they have lice in their hair and in their clothes. Still, you might be a new sort of Krull refugee. But how many times, Luke, did you force the words SKED-yool and TohMAYtoh into your conversations with Debra? And both of you are wrong in your pronunciation of some other Krull words.......So, the plan here is to take you downstairs and introduce you to the tigers. I got a real bad-ass boss, and, well, he will throw you into the tigers' cage if you don't cooperate with us. I don't want to throw you to the tigers, but I got kids at home, I got a mortgage, I have to hold down a job to pay all the bills. I don't think I'm being unreasonable in asking for a little cooperation out of you. I mean, see it from my position. I'll be out on the street and homeless if I don't do my job. Be reasonable please. Anyone with eyes in his head can see you two are Avallonian spies. We want you to tell us where your associates are, and we will want you to go back to Avallonia and work as spies for Hibernia. All we can find is some women and a crowd of kids up in the high country. Tell me you're not with them! Please tell me you weren't stupid enough to think that that little outfit could conquer this city for Avallonia! That's just too pathetic to even be funny. That's just so damn depressing to think anyone could be so damn stupid as to think that that little outfit of women and children could conquer this city. I'm serious. To bring all those kids all this distance - that just depresses the crap out of me. Did you really think you were just going to cross over the mountains, walk up to the walls of this city and defeat my soldiers? I just find that kind of stupidity depressing enough to make me weep for all humanity. Perhaps they are just a diversion. But where's the big army? Where is it? We can't find anything within the borders of Hibernia. Anyway, the usual routine around here would be to introduce you, Luke, to my assistant - Maria - she's a lovely, sweet, beautiful girl, at least on the outside. She'll give you another bubble bath, then she'll tuck you into bed, then she'll go back to her room, then an hour later she'll be back in your room saying she had a nightmare and she's scared, so she'll ask if she can sleep with you in your bed, then she'll climb in and soon enough her sweet arms will be around you and she'll be kissing you and asking you lots of questions, you, know, what is your real name? where are your associates? what is your mission? do you agree to work as agents for Hibernia against Avallonia? but if you're still not cooperating with this sweet and beautiful girl, if it's just name rank and serial number from you, then she will leave the room, saying she'll be back in a minute. So she leaves and it's pitch black in your room. Then the door opens again and you're thinking it's Maria who's coming back to crawl back into bed with you again, so there you are laying in bed while the beautiful young woman gets back into bed with you, but what you don't know, because it's pitch black in the room, is that it's a different woman. But you can sense something is wrong pretty fast because when the new girl puts her arms around you, you can sense she's a big hefty girl. And then when the new woman speaks, man are you are freaked out, because it's this mean old hag lying next to you, and she sounds just how you'd expect a hideous old witch to sound. Her name is Grendel. Well if you don't spill your guts to Grendel then we just take you down stairs and put you in a small cage that's right next to the big cage that's full of tigers. And the roars and screams of these tigers are just unbelievable. The tigers are kept in darkness 12 hours out of 24, and they are just pissed as hell, and probably half-insane, and when they scream you just can't believe how loud they are, and their screams just drive sane people insane. So you'll sit in the little cage until the big bad-ass boss gets back in town - you have to cooperate with him - or else that vicious SOB will throw you to the tigers. I've seen him do it to people. I've seen him throw little kids into the tigers' cage! Some days I really hate getting out of bed and coming to my job. Maria called in sick today, and I don't want to throw you into bed with Grendel unless you were first in bed with Maria - because of the contrast thing, you know, the shocking contrast between being with a beautiful sweet girl one moment and then suddenly realizing you're lying in bed with a nasty old witch the next moment - being taken unawares like that - getting the full dose of that frightful shock of horror one gets when one suddenly realizes one is no longer next to the lovely Maria, but next to the monster, laying right next in pitch darkness to a really nasty hag. This is the key psychological matrix which makes most enemy agents capitulate to us immediately - but you seem like really nice people, just good people - and I think it would be a classy gesture of me to help you nice people a little, by explaining the method of operation around here. There's a soft and sentimental side to me a mile long. I suppose it will get me in trouble some day, and there's also the consideration that it makes no sense to throw you to Grendel without letting you first meet Maria, and as I say she called in sick today. Maria looks beautiful on the outside but I suppose she can be as cruel as a wolf on the inside, and Grendel is just a sadistic old hag inside and out. She has danced in the Beltane abominations for the last 50 years even though the priests are always threatening to burn her. Unlike Maria, Grendel loves her job and she never calls in sick. So, either start talking right now - tell us who you really are, tell us where your associates are, agree to work as spies for us in Avallonia, or else we'll go down stairs and I'll put the both of you into a little cage right next to the big cage holding the tigers. And you'll sit in that cage until you either cooperate or until you die in the jaws and claws of the tigers. And believe me the boss will throw you to the beasts, because I've seen him do it before.'

`But we aren't spies from Avallonia,' exclaimed Luke.

`We are Krull refugees and we protest this inhospitality from our Hibernian allies...' said Seraphinaria.

`Oh lady, please!' exclaimed Kate O'Callaghan. `You brought this kid to my country. Why? Did you think that if you got control of the wall, and then if you got control of the guard house and the gate, you could hold out until an Avallonia Army arrived? I can summon an army of 20 male soldiers and 1,000 female warriors here in two days. But I wouldn't even need them. Just with the home guard alone, we have guns that can shoot a stream of kerosene 200 feet. If you were barricaded in the guard house we could have burned your little troop to a crisp in ten minutes. I wouldn't do it but my commanding officer would.'

`We just want to go back to our Krull homeland,' said Luke.

`Oh what have you done? What have you done to me?' exclaimed Katie O'Callaghan. She was becoming hysterical and looked as if she was about to shed tears. She took a minute to compose herself, and then announced: `My commanding officer is going to throw some of those kids sitting up by the pass to the tigers if you don't co-operate. I swear to you he will do it.'

`But we are innocent,' pleaded Seraphinaria.

`Oh stop it!' interrupted Katie O'Callaghan, who still looked as if she was about to weep, as she cut Seraphinaria off and motioned to 4 guards, two male and two female.

`Take these two downstairs and put them in the little cage right next to the big cage holding Killer and Ripper, Devil Cat and Screamer. Maybe they'll be more reasonable in a few hours.'

Luke and Seraphinaria got out of their chairs and were escorted out of Kate's office by the 4 guards.

`I'll tell you what you two are,' said one of the male guards, as he led the captives to the dungeon. `You are agents of the Devil because you are agents of the heretick queen of Avallonia, and she is the puppet of the Devil.'

`The Roman Pontiff is the true leader on earth of the True Church,' said the other male guard. `You would know that except you are fools and heretick minions of a heretick whore-queen. Lest ye do penance and return to Mother Church, the Church of Rome, ye swine will surely burn in Hell.'

`Aye, they are blind fools and accursed like their accursed Cromwell,' said a female guard. `The promise of the keys was made by Christ to St. Peter and to St. Peter's heirs. Is that heretick whore who calls herself Queen Brittany the successor of St. Peter? Nay! Do ye hear me? I say Nay!'

`We don't like to throw unshriven sinners to the tigers,' said the other female guard. `But we obey orders, and the priests say that hereticks are agents of the Devil, and agents of the Devil deserve death.'

They left a candle burning as they locked Luke and Seraphinaria in the cage and then departed from the dungeon to the sound of roaring tigers.

`I suppose we will have to co-operate,' said Luke.

`I suppose,' said Seraphinaria.

`I hope you aren't depressed about that woman's words about how pathetic, how wretchedly pathetic...'

`Well, how could I not be upset? She's right of course. It was pathetic of me to think our little troop could conquer this city. It was just pathetic.'

`Even me - a wee 9-year-old \- ought to be old enough to see it was madness to bring all those toddlers all this distance - but I had visions of conquest dancing in my head,' said Luke. `You start thinking about how it is that if 8 warrior women can get atop the wall, and if they can take control of the wall without raising the alarm, and if we got some hostages and then took control of the guard house, and if we could take the city without shedding any blood, and if the Avallonian Army didn't take too much time, then we can hold the city until it did arrive. But it was all madness.'

`There's always the chance they'll toss us to these tigers even if we promise to co-operate,' said Seraphinaria.

`Don't feel you have to explain to me every horrifying possibility that might happen to us.'

`Yeah. Say, you're still pretty thin despite all the food your friend Debra has been giving you. See if you can squeeze through these bars.'

`My rib cage isn't that small.'

`Yeah.'

`So how do we convince them we will be good spies for them?'

`Probably by trashing Queen Brittany. We might say to them that we know the scriptures are clear there is only one True Church, and since it is madness to think Queen Brittany is God's Supreme Agent on earth, and since it is idiotic to think the church of Avallonia is God's True Church, it must be right to grovel at the feet of the Roman Pontiff. Once we get out of this cage and get back to Avallonia we can go back to saying the Church of Rome is the whore of Babylon.'

`Won't they keep our friends as hostages?' asked Luke.

`I suppose so. We'll just stall as long as we can, and hope for the death of the cruel old male geezers.'

The minutes dragged by and the tigers ceased to roar so often. An hour passed and then another and another.

`Here they come,' said Luke as he heard the door at the top of the stairs open, as a ray of light illuminated the dungeon.

`Katie O'Callaghan and me will rescue ye poor lost deluded creatures,' said the lovely 14-year-old Debra O'Donnell as she descended the stairs and approached their cage, amid the renewed screams of the tigers. `Ye reject Rome and ye blaspheme in saying the Bride of Christ is the whore of Babylon, but perhaps we can convert ye before ye die, perhaps ye will yet suckle the true religion from the Bride of Christ, the Church of Rome, which is the True Jerusalem, the Mother of God's True Children - if ye don't convert then your erring souls are surely damned to hell forever. But we can be patient with ye. Kate and her lads and her lass are waiting for us above. She'll get us past the guards at the gate. We will get ye back to your people loitering in the wilderness, and all of us can then escape this country before the cruel devil-boss returns. We are not war criminals. Besides, I love you, Luke, darling. I love you.'

Debra was fumbling with the keys as the tigers continued to roar and scream at her intrusion.

Seraphinaria and Luke were expecting Vyryvyr to appear at the top of the stairs at any second. And if she didn't show up they were expecting the vicious commander of the city to appear at the top of the stairs, at any second.

When Luke and Seraphinaria were finally free they sprang with Debra up the stairs and down corridors until they found Kate and her children. Kate's family came prepared for a long hike, bringing food, water and warm garments.

They drew the hoods of their cloaks over their faces to conceal their identity as they passed the sentries and proceeded through the main gate. Night had fallen as they trudged through the snow, as they began their 30 mile hike to the top of the pass where they expected a joyful reunion with 29 people. Luke didn't know where the witch was. He didn't know if she was near or far. But he was thinking they had beaten the Devil because he was relieved to see they were quickly putting some distance between themselves and the sentries atop the wall. It was a very long hike back up to the top of the 15,000 foot pass. Luke had plenty of time to contemplate his adventures. He had the time to think about the book he might write: he survived the witch, Vyryvyr, and her huge pack of 1,000 wolves; he escaped the cage close to the terrifying man-eating tigers; he, a 9-year-old orphan boy, had found a beautiful 14-year-old girl-friend; he and Seraphinaria had been rescued by Kate and Debra, but in some sense they also rescued Debra and Kate and her kids. In their attempt to re-conquer Cromwell Town they set the wheels in motion which got Kate and Debra away from their vicious boss and their vicious jobs, jobs which very infrequently yet nevertheless sometimes involved throwing kids into cages filled with hungry tigers, and getting them away from that sort of thing was not something that was pathetic. Luke looked behind him again and again to make sure no one was following them. It was difficult to see very far because the only illumination was dim starlight. And then the wind was howling round them, blowing streamers of snow which engulfed them as they made their escape from the City of Cúchulainn.

The End
