The Warrior and Calissande

Chapter 8: Tell Me Everything

I was out walking later that morning when I heard the warrior call to me from the training field. "Calissande, come here to me."

I saw he was standing by his big brute of a horse, running his hand down the animal's neck.

I looked at him and shook my head. "Perhaps if you were to snap for me like a well-trained...dog, I would. But since you do not, I will not," I shouted back to him.

Then I turned my back on him and walked away from the training field. Seconds later, my warrior had caught up to me, shirtless and sweating from his morning's exertion. Never would I admit that the warrior without a shirt was magnificent. Never would I admit that his arms were my weakness with their thick muscles and the corded veins standing out so prominently. Then I thought of his body connected to hers and I felt my appreciation for his body fade. I continued walking until he grasped my arm gently and turned me to face him.

"You try my patience, my lady wife. I have explained everything to you. And still you persist in your anger like a child."

Had I a sword on me at that moment, I would have run him through. Instead, I used the only weapon I had at my disposal to make him leave me alone -- my mouth -- and I knew just the subject to force his retreat.

"You have not told me everything," I snapped at him. "You have not told me what you did with her in your bedchamber."

His light brown eyes widened, but the stubborn man held his ground.

"This is not right, Calissande. Never does a man discuss with his lady wife what he does with the camaspoza. It will upset you and disgust you, no matter what you were raised to believe you would do for your lord husband."

"I wish to know exactly what occurred between you two. It is the only way I can ever hope to find peace in this situation because otherwise, my mind stays busy with my imaginings."

"What good would come from this knowledge? I can see no benefit of you knowing such details."

I leaned toward him, my eyes narrowed in anger. "Everything you did to her, you owe to me. I want you to come to me the way you did to her."

As the meaning of my words penetrated his thick skull, the warrior, a man who led hundreds if not thousands of men into battle, who could kill a man twenty different ways without qualm using a sword, a chain or a battle axe, turned red. The warrior was blushing.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "If you ever hope to make this right, you will tell me what you gave to her that was rightfully mine."

"Calissande, ask me to kill someone for you, ask me to chain someone for you, ask me for feats of strength, ask me for jewels and gowns, but don't ask me for that."

I stared at him for a moment, needing to win this battle. Finally I shrugged. "Very well, if you will not tell me, I will use my imagination and the information my mother provided to complete the picture."

The relief on the warrior's face was obvious, but it didn't last long when I continued speaking, wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look from his face and crush him into the dust.

"And then the next time I am in the village without you, I shall find some lusty, strapping man to take me into a barn, bend me over some hay bales and give me all of these things that you refuse to give to me. In fact, I do believe the smithy is single and very strong. Anyway, one way or another, I will get what I am owed. At this point, whether it is you or someone else matters not to me."

I didn't stay to take in the shocked look on his face; instead, I turned on my heel and scurried off, afraid he would see my cheeks turning red from making such a scandalous, outrageous threat.