Mood Riders (15 page)

“But what do we do now?” Myrina brought them back to practicalities. “Could we beg or borrow a ship and persuade some of our fishermen friends to take us south toward Mycenae?”

Atisha shook her head, frowning in deepest thought. “The weather is treacherous and the sailing month has not yet arrived. It is far to go and I fear that it would end in capture.”

They sat together in silence for a few moments then Atisha spoke again. “It would be possible to ride south through Thrace.”

“Yes!” Myrina agreed. “Many Thracians would join a war party. There’s much anger that Troy is threatened.”

Atisha smiled at Myrina’s enthusiasm but she shook her head. “I’m not suggesting that we make war on Agamemnon.”

Myrina subsided, discouraged.

“Don’t look so disappointed, young Snaky. You are thinking well. A small determined task force may have a much better chance of success.” She wagged a gnarled finger at the girls. “The best riders, the best archers; Centaurea, who knows the land to the south of Thrace; Penthesilea, whose courage cannot be beaten. A small group, who may pass secretly through the Achaean lands and quietly watch over this little princess so that no suspicion may be roused.”

Myrina let her breath out slowly. “Yes,” she agreed. “This plan makes sense. It is just that I’d thought that—perhaps I might . . .”

Atisha laughed. “You shall go, my little Snaky, you and Cassandra both. You have an important part to play; this poor princess must have someone that she can trust and she will trust you both.”

“Yes!” Myrina was triumphant. “We must both go!”

Cassandra looked at them, her eyes full of doubt. Such an undertaking seemed wild beyond belief to her, but the terrible memory of her dream flooded back and she began to shiver again.

“Have faith in yourself, Princess,” Atisha told her. “We have faith in you!”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed at last. “If anyone must go, I must go. This is what true friendship means; it is just that I am fearful. I cannot be brave like Penthesilea.”

“You have courage of a different kind.” Atisha patted her cheek.

P
ENTHESILEA AND
C
ENTAUREA
agreed immediately to the suggested plan. “Will you come?” Penthesilea asked the Old Woman.

“No.” Atisha shook her head. “I am too old for such a race. I give you no orders; you spy out the land and make your own decisions. All I say to you is this: listen to Cassandra. If she is troubled, take good notice of her.”

“I will.” Penthesilea was clearly delighted to be put in charge.

Cassandra thanked her graciously for her willingness. “And you do not even know Iphigenia,” she said.

“Never mind Iphigenia; this is my chance to punish that foul pirate Achilles.” Penthesilea smiled fiercely. “If we can steal away his poor little bride that will be a fine reward for me. When do we go?”

“Go tonight,” Atisha told them. “It will be safest to ride at night, and the moon waxes more and more powerful for the next half of the month.”

“Then let us set about it!” Penthesilea was impatient to be off.

They tried to rest during the following day and took their leave at sunset. All the Moon Riders gathered to dance and sing as they went; a song of ancient magic, begging Mother Maa to bring them safely back to their friends.

As the tiny group rode fast away, Myrina struggled with some misgivings. Was this all madness? And might she be responsible for it all? Should she have told Cassandra to turn over and go to sleep, forgetting her dream? Her young recruits had looked lost when she said good-bye, but Atisha had promised to watch over them.

Once the horses had got into their stride and clouds cleared so that the moon gave silvery light, her spirits rose. What an adventure she would have to tell Gul and Hati about! She turned to Cassandra and saw that the princess urged her horse on with grim determination; this would be a much more difficult journey for the Trojan princess than for herself.

They rode all through the night and as dawn came they slowed up by a river, looking for a shallow ford.

“This is the River Strymon,” Centaurea told them. “Once across the other side, we will be in the land of the Macedonians.”

They found a safe ford, and having crossed it, stopped to eat the bread and mare’s milk cheese that they’d been given. Centaurea thought they should travel on through daylight as the Macedonians were friendly to the Moon Riders.

“We will have to go slowly later on, once we reach Thessaly and come close to the Achaean lands.”

Atisha had insisted that they all wear breast straps and leather protective body armor. Their bows were strung and ready, fastened to their full quivers, daggers at their belts. They rode on across the gentle slopes of a grassy plain, traveling openly all through the morning, but when the sun rose high in the sky, they stopped at the edge of a wooded stream. “We’ll rest,” Penthesilea ordered, and Myrina, drowsy at last with the need to sleep, was relieved.

Penthesilea told them to sleep while she stood guard.

“Does she never weaken?” Myrina muttered.

As the sun went down, Myrina woke and found that Centaurea was now on guard. “We must eat again and be on our way,” the older girl told her. “Can you wake Penthesilea and the princess?”

They traveled on through the night, crossed the River Axus and on toward the mountainous southern parts of Macedonia. The journey turned into a blur of riding, sleeping at the height of the noonday sun, hidden among trees and undergrowth, snatching bits of food. On the fourth day they’d eaten all that they’d brought and were growing hungry, so they stopped to ask if they could buy food from a group of shepherds roasting meat in front of a hillside hut.

The men stared suspiciously at the four sunburnt women riding through the lonely hills with weapons at their belts and strapped to their backs. Then Penthesilea brought out from her pouch the small silver medallion that Atisha had entrusted to her once again, with the crescent moon on one side and the goddess on the other.

“Ah.” They suddenly seemed to understand and bowed respectfully. “Magic women, Amazons,” they said. “Amazon women eat much meat!”

None of the women disagreed with that, for the smell of roast mutton and herbs was delicious. The shepherds were soon hacking great slices of mutton from the sheep that they were roasting, only begging the blessings of the Mother on their flocks in return. The women went on with full bellies; their bags stuffed full of cooling meat, barley bread, and rough red wine.

On the seventh day they skirted a huge mountain, its head lost in the clouds. “Mount Olympus,” Centaurea told them.

“Ah.” Myrina looked up with respect. “Olympus—home of the Achaean gods. I can see why they might think such a thing.”

Centaurea agreed. “They say that Zeus the God King lives up there, but we Thracians swear it’s the home of Mountain Mother.” Then for the first time in their journey she looked hesitant. “Tomorrow we begin to pass through Thessaly. It’s the farthest that I’ve ever been and I don’t know which direction we should take.”

Penthesilea was silent for once and Myrina had a brief moment of doubt, but that quickly passed for Cassandra turned her head toward the southeast, almost as though she’d caught a scent on the wind. “That is the way,” she pointed. “Iphigenia travels in a litter beside her mother Clytemnestra, and a young babe lies between them. They are followed by baggage trains and wagons heavy with goods and gold.”

Penthesilea frowned. “It is hard to trust to dreams and visions,” she said. “I’d rather look for the remains of a fire or horses’ dung, but if you say that is the way, Princess, then that is the way we’ll go.”

They traveled on through Thessaly, taking good care now to hide their weapons beneath their cloaks, cantering through the morning, without any look of urgency. If any asked, they said that they were horse traders. Each night they rode as fast as they could in the growing moonlight. As they passed through the south of Thessaly and into the land of Phocis, it became clear that they were not alone in the direction that they took. Real horse dealers, wagons of iron and bronze weaponry, cartloads of wine and smoked fish took the same road. The name of one place was on everyone’s lips. “Aulis. The warriors gather at Aulis.”

“They’ll buy weapons and horses.”

“Wine and olives!”

“Cloaks and leather goods!”

Though they found it unnerving at first, Penthesilea soon realized that traveling within the growing crowd gave them protection. “Who could pick out four women spies among this lot?” she whispered. “Is it to Aulis that we must go, do you think?”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes. My mirror tells me that Iphigenia is with her father now, but though she greets him gladly, he looks away from her with fear and—and shame.”

“And so he should.” Myrina was adamant. “Marrying a child like Iphigenia to a brute of a warrior.”

Centaurea frowned a little. “Of course I agree with you, Snaky Girl, but in his world such a marriage would be all he could hope for. By marrying Iphigenia to Achilles, Agamemnon will secure the loyalty of his most renowned warlord and provide his daughter with wealth and honor at the same time. You’d expect him to be glad and not ashamed.”

Penthesilea quickly saw what she meant. “Yes,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes. “If Cassandra is right and he feels shame then there must be some other reason for that shame. Marrying her off to Achilles should bring him joy.”

They all turned to Cassandra, the unspoken question in their faces. She shook her head, looking miserable. “I cannot see the horror that lies beneath it all.”

“Don’t distress yourself, Princess,” Centaurea soothed. “Your mirror and your visions have brought us safely to where the father and the daughter camp. I’m sure that you will know it all when the time is right.”

Myrina had given small notice to Centaurea in her two years with the Moon Riders, thinking her strong and daring but thoughtless. Now she saw another side to her, a side that was perceptive and calming, proving very helpful in this nerve-racking adventure. Atisha had chosen well.

Cassandra suddenly asked with urgency, “How many nights to the full of the moon?”

Centaurea looked surprised, but she counted under her breath and held up three fingers.

Cassandra nodded. “The full of the moon. That will be the moment of greatest danger: that’s when we must act.”

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
they arrived at the town of Aulis, where they found the great Achaean fleet of ships anchored three and four rows deep all along the bay. The sight of it took their breath away as they stopped for a moment on the hillside above the town. The tall masts rose in countless numbers, spreading as far as the eye could see.

They fell silent, understanding how deep a shock this must be for Cassandra. Every one of these warships was bent on threatening her home city of Troy. Myrina leaned from the saddle and took her hand.

Cassandra stared. “I knew there would be many,” she said. “But I didn’t know it could look like this. It seems all the world has gathered against Troy.”

“Not
all
the world,” Penthesilea insisted. “Come, we must find Iphigenia.”

It wasn’t difficult. The princess was staying with her mother in the fine palace that belonged to the Lord of Aulis. Penthesilea went off boldly to speak to a woman who sold olives outside the palace gates but returned to them, her face ashen white.