Chapter 1: Duke Gilbert's Men

"And here we are, lords and ladies, the beautiful, the exotic, the amazing, Flexible Girl!"

Jubilation Lee parted the curtains at the back of the stage and walked out a few steps, then gathered herself and sprang into a series of cartwheels that took her to the end of the small stage, where she went down into a split. Taking a deep breath, she reached backward, still in her split, and grabbed her back ankle. The audience gasped as her back seemed to flatten against the back of her left knee. She held that position for a moment, then leaned forward slowly, using the opportunity to stretch the kinks out of her back from the previous position. Placing her hands on the stage, she slowly lifted herself into a handstand, with her body arrow straight, toes pointed. She walked forward on her hands a few steps, then lowered her feet until her toes touched the back of her head. She was proud of this one; it had taken a lot of practice to be able to keep her balance on her hands while she did that. Then, carefully, she took her left hand off the floor and waved it in midair, her entire weight balanced on her right hand and arm. The audience gasped, and started clapping.

She didn't let that distract her; if she fell in this position, she could snap her back, break a leg, or worse. Carefully she lowered her left hand back to the stage, thankful that she didn't have a whole lot of body fat to weigh her down, and uncurled from her position, until both her hands and her feet were firmly planted on the floor. Then, with a bare second to gather herself, she pushed off the stage with her hands into a series of backward somersaults, finishing with an aerial back flip in which not a single part of her body touched the stage at all. She finished with a flourish, head high, smiling and waving to the crowd.

The townspeople here were extremely appreciative. They started throwing small copper coins onto the stage, and, flushing, she bent to gather them up. There was no silver this time; but she hadn't been expecting any, either.

This town was poor. It showed in the threadbare, worn clothing; the dull, hopeless look in the people's eyes, and the dilapidated condition of the houses. It hadn't seemed bad when Jubilee's troupe of traveling entertainers had first approached the outskirts of the lands belonging to Duke Gilbert, but the further into his domains the troupe had traveled, the worse it had seemed, and the coins they had garnered for their performances were fewer and fewer. The troupe leader had finally made the decision to turn back; they could get more coin in the neighboring lands. "Why are they so poor?" Jubilee had asked her mother. The last time they had passed through these towns, some two years ago, they had been prosperous, and Jubilee had been able to glean a few gold pieces among the hail of silvers and coppers. Now there were only coppers.

Jubilee's father had answered her question. "The last time were came through here, Jubilee, these lands belonged to the old Duke. He knew how much he could tax the peasants; he knew these people needed to be able to keep some of the produce of their land in order to survive. Starving peasants, sick peasants, couldn't work long or hard enough to produce enough for themselves and the old man, too.

"The Duke's son, Gilbert, doesn't understand that. He takes everything these people have to give, without regard for what they may also need for themselves. He's not like his father was."

"But that doesn't make sense," Jubilee said angrily. "If he's so selfish now, when all the people in these towns move away to other lands he won't have anybody to grow food or raise cattle for him. He might eat well now, but it means starving later down the road. Doesn't he care enough for his people to realize that?"

Jubilee's father had wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You should have been born a boy," he said, his eyes twinkling. "You've got a head on your shoulders that's wasted on a girl here."

Jubilee smiled at her father's praise. "That's another thing I can't understand," she told her father. "Why aren't girls here taught to read and write and figure, like the boys? Girls are just as smart, maybe even smarter, if you listen to Mother talking, so why is learning just restricted to the boys? Do men here just like dumb women?"

Jubilee's father had laughed at her and ruffled her hair. "Not all men, no," he said. "Any man who wants an uneducated woman is stupid. I wouldn't be able to get along without your mother's wit and wisdom, and we both know that. Thank goodness you'll be just like her. Now run along and see what she's making for supper."

Jubilee reflected again on her father's words as she gathered the coppers on the stage and walked off. "Here, Mother," she said, holding out the basket with the coppers in it.

Her mother took the basket from Jubilee's hand and set it down without looking at it, then hugged her daughter tight. "You did a good job, dear," she said, holding her tight. "I hadn't realized you'd gotten so good at the one arm stand that you would try it here. Oh, my heart almost stopped; I kept thinking you were going to fall over at any moment."

"I wouldn't have," Jubilee said, stepping back and rubbing her arm muscles, which were sore from their exertion. "And how do you think I feel when I see you doing that trick with the running horses? Did you ever think what might happen if one horse breaks stride, Mother?"

"They wouldn't do that, Jubilee," her mother said, taking up the basket and sorting through the coppers. "They're too well trained to do that, especially with me having one foot on either horse's back. Here." She fished two coppers out of the basket and handed them to Jubilee. "Run down to the baker's and pick up a loaf of black bread and a wedge of cheese, please, dear."

Jubilee took the money and slipped it into her pocket, smiling. She was glad she didn't have to wear girls' clothes while she was performing. All those skirts would get in her way, and there were no pockets. Her mother might insist that she wear a dress on a few occasions, but Jubilee loved the freedom of movement she had in boys' trousers and shirts. Now, if she could only just cut her hair…she wore it in performances twisted in braids and wound around her head, and she had an old hat of her father's to go over it, for when they were in a town in which it wasn't safe for a young girl to go out alone. A small, slender seventeen-year-old girl could pass for a thirteen-year-old boy in these parts, especially with the breast band that bound her small breasts flat to her chest and out of her way while she was doing her acrobatics. And even though those who saw her perform could see she was a girl, the binding made her look much younger than her seventeen years. And looking young helped; she got more pennies than she would otherwise.

She jumped down off the back of the wagon she lived in with her parents and headed for town. The caravan master had stopped the entertainers' caravan train just outside town; not far enough in that the townspeople would be tripping over the entertainers, but not far enough out that they could be construed as a target for any bandits and lawless men who might be roaming the countryside.

She bought the loaf at the baker's, and the woman, despite the care lines etched into her face, gave Jubilee a wink and a small cake of sugary dough. "Haven't the coppers to spare on a performance, my girl," the woman said cheerfully, "but I can spare a sweet or two." She grinned as Jubilee gave her a jaunty wave of thanks and headed for the town's dairy. Here she bought a penny's worth of yellow cheese; goat cheese, not cow, since there wasn't a single cow to be seen; but it was cheese nevertheless. She tucked the packages under her arm and headed back toward the caravans, savoring the sweetness of the sugar cake in her mouth.

The caravan was comprised of ten wagons, each with a different family and a different act. The caravan master's wagon, painted a bright red and blue with fake gold letters, was first. Then came the juggling family; the Flemings; they juggled swords, daggers, balls, and even themselves. Jubilee's parents wagon was next. They were Chinese, an exotic land far to the East, and to reflect that foreignness, Jubilee's mother had painted a girl dressed in Chinese clothes on the side of the wagon. Jubilee's mother and father worked with the caravan's horses; her father trained them, and her mother did acrobatics on them. Jubilee didn't have her mother's patience for standing on something that moved under her, so she had taken to acrobatics on the ground, showing off her unusual flexibility in handsprings and somersaults. Next came the fortune-teller's wagon; Madam Sajadi, as she called herself, had a crystal ball painted on the side of her wagon. Then there was the dancing girls' wagon; this family was from the far off land of Africa, and had skins that glistened black. There was a mother and four girls, all adults, and they did dances that could make a man's heart stop. Jubilee wished she could dance like that. She had been trying to get Mama Mvemba to teach her how to dance like that, all sensuous curves and wiggles; Jubilee was so small and skinny that she'd never had a beau, even at seventeen. Maybe if she could dance like that she could get a man's attention.

Then came the wagon of the little old lady who trained dogs and cats. Her pets could do wonderful things; dogs could dance with each other, the cats jumped over and played under the dogs, and they even had mock battles, which always delighted the audiences. She had little outfits made for each of the animals, and they looked like little soldiers marching off to war with each other. Jubilee loved playing with them. The sword-swallower was next; he was an older, single man who didn't socialize much with the other members of the caravan, although he would have dinner with Jubilee's family when her mother asked him to. And in the last wagon was the aerialists. They had a complicated setup of poles and ropes they had to set up, and the parents would hold the posts steady while their identical twin sons whirled in complex patterns around the high bars. Jubilee loved that act…and it didn't hurt that David, the older of the two twins, was handsome and seemed to like her too. They were nineteen.

Her attention was suddenly attracted back toward town at the sound of shouts. She turned, and saw a group of horsemen come thundering into the town. They wore armour, and the colours of Duke Gilbert.

The man in the lead reined in the big bay horse, and pointed toward the caravans. Five of the other horsemen thundered on past him, and Jubilee started to run toward the wagons as they bore down on her.

One of the horsemen raised his sword. "Get back into town, boy!" he hissed, bringing the hilt of his sword down against her shoulder with a bone-jarring thump. Jubilee was knocked over, and she sprawled there in the dust dazed for a moment before a hand helped her up. It was her father. "Keep your head down, and your hat on," he said to her, his voice low. "Don't give them any reason to think you're a girl. Go on back to the town square, find the baker woman. Stay close to her; she'll hide you until I come back."

"Papa..." Jubilee grabbed his sleeve. "Where are you going, I'm scared…"

"I'm going to get your mother. I don't like those flaming torches Duke Gilbert's knights are carrying." And Jubilee's father was gone, slipping behind the houses as quietly as he could, heading for the caravan. Jubilee paused, irresolute; should she go back to the town, or to the caravans for her father and mother? She stopped, tucked the loaf of bread and the cheese into a nearby sheltered doorway, then headed for the caravans.

The soldiers, in the meantime, had reached the caravans. "Out, all of you, out!" They were pounding on the sides of the wagons, and one of them even took his sword and ripped through the canvas covering on the Mvembas' wagon. The caravan folk hurriedly climbed out of the wagons, and were herded by the armed horsemen into a tight knot. With some harsh threats and not a few blows, they were pushed toward the town square. Jubilee saw her parents close to the center of the group of people, together, and slipped into the knot as it filed past the doorway. The caravan people knew her, and parted for her as much as they were able, until she could join her parents. Jubilee's mother clasped her daughter in her arms, whispering a prayer of thanks, and they hugged each other as they were brought into the town square.

The armed horseman in the lead reined his horse in front of the frightened mass of people. "Duke Gilbert feels that he has not received the proper tithe this town owes him for his protection and benevolent hand," he said in a loud, angry, harsh voice. "He has therefore ordered that the town be destroyed so that all who have begrudged him their taxes and the produce of their land will know he has noticed."

"You can't destroy our town!" One man (the smith, Jubilee saw) shouted. "We'll have no place to live. Tell that duke we're dry! We have nothing we can give him! We can't pay the four gold pieces he's demanding per person, we're poor folk, we don't have that kind of money! Let him appeal to his own coffers for the money he wants; I'm sure they're full enough!" There was a murmur of assent from the townspeople.

The man drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. In less time than it took for Jubilee to blink, the smith fell over, dead with an arrow in his forehead. His wife screamed and fell to the ground beside him, tears streaming down his eyes. "You've killed my man!" She shrieked wildly. "Tell Duke Gilbert he can go to hell!" There was another whiz, and an arrow appeared in her throat.

The townspeople broke out of their knot and began to run in all directions, screaming in terror. Arrows flew, and people fell, screaming in pain. The horsemen ran after the fallen, finishing them off with sword thrusts to the gut.

In the sudden stampede of panic, Jubilee got caught in the tide of people and swept away from her mother and father. She screamed in panic, in terror, trying to get through the crowd to get back to them, but the flood of people were sweeping her further and further away from them, and she fell to the ground, trampled by running feet. Pain erupted in her arms, her ribs, her legs and back and everywhere else. She cowered there on the ground, trying to cover her head with her arms, as the terrified stampede of people ran over and past her. When the feet stopped impacting on her body, she raised her head slowly.

The leader was astride his horse, staring down at her. She stared up at him, her eyes fixing each detail of his face in her memory. Dark, he was, and swarthy; his face was seamed with scars and his huge, hooked, beaked nose was slightly crooked, as if at some point in the past it had been broken and never healed properly.

He dismounted and grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. Only then did she realize her hat was gone, and the tight braids wound around her head had come unpinned. One was half-unraveled. "Well, well, a girl, I trow. Dressed as a boy. You make a very pretty boy, let's see if you really are a girl, eh?" And he brought his lips down in hers.

"Leave her alone!" came a shout, and Jubilee twisted in the man's arms, to see her father coming up behind them. Her mother was just a little bit behind him.

The man didn't even blink. He grabbed his sword and thrust, and Jubilee screamed in horror as her father was impaled on that sword. He froze, staring disbelievingly at the length of steel buried in his middle, and Jubilee watched, her own eyes streaming with tears, as the light went out of her father's eyes and he slid off the end of the sword and fell to the ground. Jubilee's mother raced to his side, screaming in grief and anguish, and fell to her knees beside her husband's body. Jubilee struggled in the man's arms, trying to escape, but the man's grip was too strong, and she couldn't free herself. She watched as the sword swept around, in a glittering arc and swept through her mother's body like a knife through butter. Her mother never even saw it coming. Jubilee screamed, a high, short, sharp sound of terror, as her mother's body slumped lifelessly over the body of her husband.

The man grinned and dropped his sword. "Now where were we?" he said, chuckling, as he lowered his head to her face, to plant his fat, disgusting lips against hers.

Something snapped inside Jubilee. This man had just killed her parents! He was not going to kiss her. She struggled against his greater bulk, and then lashed out with her fingers, raking her nails across his face. The man stepped back, dropping her, and brought his hands up to his face as blood spilled between his fingers. Jubilee froze, staring at him, and at the gore and clear fluids that covered her hands, and fled. She ran past the houses, hearing the screams and shouts of the dying people in her ears but too terrified to stop. Behind her, she heard the man screaming hoarsely, a sound of pain and terror, as he called some of his men to pursue her. An arrow whizzed past her shoulder, and she swerved. The forest. She could lose them in the forest. The men, in their armour, couldn't climb trees.

She was just inside the cool greenery when agony erupted in her shoulder as an arrow thudded into her shoulder and side. If she had enough breath in her body she would have screamed; the fact that she didn't may have saved her life. She fell sideways, into a tangled thicket of brambles and thorns, and the green leaves covered her, screened her from sight of the horsemen galloping past.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.