It was time to move on, but the swollen face of the woman was stuck in his mind. The story of the injustice done to her replayed in his head as he made a stew with his dwindling stores of dried meat. He cut some wild edible tubers he had found into his tin and watching the bits bob up and down in his pot. As his memories replayed, it struck him that the woman had moved with the blows to lessen their impact. Either she knew how to fight and take a blow or she'd learnt to take the blows by being beaten so often.
He shouldn't be thinking about her, dammit. It was none of his business and it didn't pay to poke a nose into any of the war tribes' business. He should just leave her there and be on his way... but his conscience smote him and he couldn't seem to convince himself to leave her to those daily beatings.
He crept into the Chamois Tribe's camp while the men were out hunting and the women busy cooking.
"Hey, hey," he spoke quietly to the woman from a hiding place behind a nearby stack of hay. "You awake?"
"The watcher in the bushes," he heard her mumble through swollen lips, "has finally made up his mind to do something. Give me a knife. Set me free. I will make that rat's bait pay."
"I don't think you're in any condition to do anything," Pustakawan replied.
"Let me be the judge of that," the woman said. "Give me a knife and I will challenge him. Once defeated, neither he nor the other war tribes in this area will dare try to force me to marry again."
Checking the coast was clear, Pustakawan cut the ropes and handed her his spare knife.
"Back to your post, watcher in the bushes," she mumbled, pushing his hand away. "I will meet you on the road. Do not be seen."
She rubbed her her hands and wrists, massaging her calves and stretching. Seeing the way she moved, Pustakawan grinned to himself. Chimcham was in for a surprise.
Pustakawan found Dorit in his spot in the bushes and paused a moment. Had he been seen?
"Come and watch, Juta," he looked up when Pustakawan purposely stepped on a twig to let the man know he was coming. "The woman has freed herself and somehow gotten hold of a knife. See her limbering up? I don't think she's going to run. I think she's going to challenge Chimcham. Isn't it a pity? What a waste of an opportunity. She should run."
"Really?" Pustakawan scratched his chin, internally sighing with relief that Dorit hadn't seen him set the woman free. If someone had seen him, he'd have Chimcham on his heels hunting him and he didn't want to kill a warlord, because then he'd be forced to stay as the replacement warlord. He was only meant to be a small observer and make the smallest ripples possible, so that the information he recorded was not too contaminated by his influence. "Last I saw, Chimcham was out hunting."
"Oh, they'll be back soon. She sent a boy to fetch them back just now. Wait here and keep an eye on things for me. I have to let my brothers know, so we can all watch the show. I thought you said you were leaving?"
"I heard a commotion and came back to see what happens next."
"You should join our tribe," Dorit nudged him. "You fit in well amongst us. Don't let anything good happen while I'm away."
In the time it took Dorit to fetch his tribesmen, word had spread and other tribes had arrived to watch as surreptitiously as their gambling and betting would allow. Chimcham was certainly aware of the gallery when he returned with a deer strewn over his saddle horn. He scowled up at the surrounding hills and bushes and was greeted with the howls of laughter from the other tribesmen.
Women scattered from where they had surrounded the woman in the center of camp. Pustakawan could see that they had applied some crushed leaves to her face to bring the swelling down.
"You stole me," the woman said in a hoarse voice to Chimcham as he approached, his warriors fanning out to join the watchers. "You stole me and tied me up and beat me. That is not the proper custom of your people. As is a woman's right, if she refuses to marry, you should have let me go with bread for my road, but you have violated that custom."
"Every man knows that if you beat a woman enough, she can be persuaded to stay," Chimcham replied, in a forced jovial voice.
"That is because you have never put a weapon in the woman's hand for her to fight back with," the woman spoke slowly and with effort through the swelling. Her words slurred every now and then. "You have never considered that a woman could be a man's equal."
All the men, including the gallery, roared with laughter at this. Nevertheless, Pustakawan was silent, pressing his lips together.
"Is there even any need to reply to that?" Chimcham spread his arms out wide, causing the surrounding men to roar again. Some men even rolled on the ground with their amusement, holding their bellies.
"I challenge you, Chimcham. Even if I have been beaten and starved, I will show you that you are wrong. Are you all so afraid of your women that you must tread them under your feet?" The woman widened her foot positioning and crouched into a ready guard stance. "You complain how you lack men, but you dismiss your women. It is the tribe that knows how best to treat their women that will be the most prosperous. All women know this. We are not your slaves."