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Authors: Theresa Tomlinson

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BOOK: Mood Riders
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Helen bowed her acquiescence, but Cassandra and Myrina exchanged a troubled glance. They could not believe that Helen intended to spend the rest of her life in Deiphobus’s arms—indeed neither of them could blame her. The man was pushy and boastful and had an unpleasant, leering manner toward women. Myrina knew that she herself would do anything rather than be married to such a one.

Myrina found herself truly sad that the handsome prince of Troy was dead, but much worse was the knowledge that her new hopes of an easy rescue for the slaves had gone with him.

The fighting continued every day, though since the deaths of Penthesilea and Paris, the heart had gone out of the Trojan allies, who’d left their homelands to fight for this strategic city. Aeneas struggled dutifully to command them, but it was clear that many of them longed for their own hearthside and could see that there was little chance of Anatolia ever ridding itself of the huge Achaean force. It was more a question of how long it could hold out.

Food was diminishing and desperation grew, until the day when once again the sound of cheering was heard from the lookouts on the towers. Dust was rising in the east and a large band of warriors appeared over the horizon, coming from the direction of Mount Ida.

Coronilla was now able to walk again and, supported by Myrina and Akasya, she managed to struggle up the steps to the top of the Southern Tower.

The ragged people beneath them in the lower town waved and screamed out their joy. “The Ethiopians—the Ethiopians!”

Myrina’s heart thundered. Why had she not looked in her mirror of late? How could she have been so busy that she could forget to look for Tomi?

She stared wildly among the huge crowd of advancing riders, who were now making for the Southern Gate, unimpeded by the Achaeans, who sent out scouts to watch but did not interfere. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out who was who. King Memnon was not difficult to spot for he rode at the head of his warriors, and his neck and arms were covered in rich gold jewelery, a cloth of gold cloak floating out behind him, a broad gold circlet on his brow. His warriors were tall, with skin like gleaming obsidian, and many of them were also ornamented with gold.

Then suddenly she saw him. She should have looked for him in the place of honor, not among the following ranks. Tomi rode at the front, a Mazagardi warrior, in his tribal horsehide body armor, a full quiver at his back and bow strapped across his shoulders. He rode beside King Memnon on his light gray stallion, Moon Silver, and looked as brave and handsome as she remembered him.

Myrina’s hands were suddenly trembling; her knees seemed to turn to water. Did Tomi remember her? Had he kept his promise to wait for her? What would he think of her—a ragged, sorrow-worn warrior woman, whom life had battered hard since he last saw her?

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
We Have Waited Long Enough

A
S
T
OMI RODE
in glory through the Southern Gate, Myrina did what she had never done; she left Coronilla and Akasya and ran to her chamber to hide. Once there she took up her mirror and stared critically at her reflection, searching not for visions but to see herself as he would see her. Her hair was dull with the dust that seemed to constantly swirl about the once elegant streets and her cheeks sunburnt, her sharp arrow pictures faded a little with every year that passed. Her smock was ragged about the neck; there had been no time for mending or self-adornment. Still her face was young and her eyes bright.

She remembered the day that she and Tomi had promised to stay unmarried and wait for each other. That was more than ten long years ago and she and Tomi were now adults; she was well past the age when a Moon Rider should return to her tribe and choose her husband. But now there were no Mazagardi home-tents to return to.

Cassandra came into her chamber, surprised to find her there. “They are here,” she cried. “The Ethiopians! What are you doing hiding away here?”

Myrina turned away from her mirror, self-doubt showing clearly in her eyes.

“He is looking for you,” Cassandra told her. “Your Tomi. He asks everyone for the Snake Lady and they direct him here and there, but he doesn’t know his way about. You must come and rescue him.”

“I wish . . . I wish I had the jewelery that I once had and a fine silk smock.” Myrina was suddenly stumbling over the words.

But Cassandra smiled and hugged her. “You forget one thing,” she said. “He is Mazagardi, same as you. When did Mazagardi look for a painted, delicate woman?”

Myrina laughed nervously. “I suppose you are right. But . . . when he sees Helen?”

“You have the strength that he needs,” Cassandra insisted. “You are a powerful survivor, Myrina; that’s the beauty of Mazagardi women. He would not want a painted butterfly like Helen. Put away your mirror and save it for its truest purpose. Come and find him, or you’ll regret it all your life.”

Myrina smiled at last. “Yes, Princess, I do your bidding, as ever.” She gave a mock bow and followed Cassandra downstairs.

Tomi saw her with the Trojan princess and pushed his way determinedly through the crowd toward her. Her fears were soon forgotten for, as soon as they could reach each other, he held his arms wide and hugged her tightly. He kissed her on the lips, then gently rested his cheek against hers, sighing deeply. “I have longed for this,” he whispered.

Myrina sighed, too, and with that sigh all the hardness and struggle of the last few months vanished. “I, too,” she replied, realizing only now how much she had longed for this loving intimacy.

“Do you still wait for a husband?” he whispered, throwing aside any formality or shyness, pulling back to look her straight in the face.

She looked back at him. This was her Tomi and yet he was not; he was a strong, confident man, matured by years in the saddle, honored by the Ethiopian king, and yet she still felt completely comfortable with him. “I wait for you,” she whispered.

“Well, here I am.” He laughed and swung her around. “Why should we wait any longer? Let us have our wedding now—at once.”

“Yes, yes.” Coronilla was beside them, picking up on his words. She looked flushed and well, better than she’d seemed at any time since Penthesilea’s battle. “Let us have a wedding! Oh, do let us have a wedding! It is just what we all need!”

Myrina’s face clouded over. “But, Tomi . . . you know what happened . . . at the Lake of Kus?”

Tomi nodded solemnly.

“Your mother and father, too!” she spoke gently.

“Yes.” His voice shook a little. “I know it all. Such terrible news travels far and fast.”

“And little Yildiz?”

Tomi bowed his head. “Cassandra has told me of her courage.” Then he looked her full in the face again. “There is great sorrow all about us, but the sadness only makes you more dear and precious to me. I am more certain than ever that we should not waste any time. We must wed now, while we still have the chance.”

“But . . .” She hesitated, remembering her plans for the slave women and determined to be truthful. “I have plans that I must carry out and I fear that I am not yet ready to melt down my mirror to make a marriage bangle, as a good Mazagardi woman should.”

“I do not ask it. In these strange times we have to change. I do not want a marriage bangle; I want you, Myrina the Snake Lady.”

She looked up at him, laughing. “Very well then, Tomi of the Mazagardi tribe, I choose you to be my husband.”

Coronilla could not contain her excitement and Cassandra spoke at once to her father, who declared the feast a double celebration: to honor King Memnon and to celebrate the Snake Lady’s marriage.

“Now you must deck yourself out with finery,” Coronilla cried, and even Cassandra would not allow her to object. They snatched her away from Tomi and dragged her upstairs into her chamber. They had been there only a few moments before Helen and her waiting women appeared carrying silken gowns and jewelery and little pots of paint.

Helen came and kissed Myrina on both cheeks and insisted on giving her a gown. “Yes, yes,” she said. “A marriage celebration is very much needed here in Troy and if it’s yours, my dear, then at least I can put off Deiphobus for a little while longer.”

The waiting women exchanged glances. Helen’s revulsion for the younger prince of Troy was shared by all of them.

So Myrina allowed them to paint her face and decorate her neck and hair with Helen’s jewels. She chose a simple linen gown the color of fresh goat’s milk, and by the time the feast was ready the Moon Riders had come to her chamber to lead her down.

The feasting hall was crowded with hosts and guests. King Memnon had brought his own contribution to the food stocks, for a herd of goats and sheep had been driven in the wake of the warriors. The Trojans were cheered enormously by the sight of so much food and raised their beakers to the Snake Lady, who through her warrior husband had brought them fresh supplies of food once again. King Memnon was given the seat of honor next to Priam, while Helen spoke charmingly to everyone and acted capably as hostess. Hecuba wandered vaguely among the guests, looking for her son. Andromache sat quietly in the corner with her little boy Astyanax. There were amused murmurings and whisperings that Helen might prefer the old man to the young prince Deiphobus, and general agreement that marriage to anyone else would be better.

Myrina suddenly felt that something was missing; she looked about her for Akasya and saw that she was serving food with the other slave women, who had been kept late in the palace to wait on the guests. Myrina marched over to her, apologized to the elderly Trojan warrior whom Akasya was serving and made her come to stand beside her as witness to the Mazagardi hand-fasting ceremony. There were small gasps of shock that the Snake Lady should want a slave to take that role, but Akasya rose to the moment and conducted herself as though she’d acted as witness many times before.

The remaining Moon Riders, only thirty in number, danced in a circle about the couple. They moved to the sound of cymbals, bringing the blessings of Mother Maa to their union. Tomi could not wipe the huge smile from his face and Myrina fell into a happy daze, unsure whether this was a dream or not, but as it seemed a wonderful dream she allowed it to lead her where it would.

King Memnon stooped from his great height and kissed her; then he handed her a round box of scented cedarwood with a crescent moon carved on its lid. “I have heard nothing but praise of the fierce and beautiful Snake Lady,” he told her, laughing as he imitated a lovesick Tomi. “So I decided to have a fine present made for this famous one.”

Myrina opened the box and found inside a most beautifully crafted golden bangle in the shape of a coiled snake. Tomi pushed it into place on her arm, where it curled magnificently from wrist to elbow, echoing the dark, fading pattern of her body picture.

“There. You have your marriage bangle after all,” Tomi whispered.

Myrina didn’t know how to thank King Memnon, but he laughed loudly and brushed her thanks aside. “Were it not for your Tomi, we’d still be lost in the mountains,” he said. “And though this night be joyful, we must not forget that we fight in the morning and go early to our beds.”

They went, obedient and exhausted, Myrina leading Tomi up to her chamber, after Coronilla had tactfully whispered that she’d be sleeping in Cassandra’s quarters from now on.

Coronilla and Akasya had found time secretly to strew Myrina’s bed with sharp-scented lavender. For a while she and Tomi lay contentedly together in each other’s arms, but then she sat up. “This is not for us,” she whispered.

Tomi sat up quickly, distressed.

“No, no!” Myrina laughed. “I mean that a bed enclosed by thick walls is not the place for Mazagardi lovers. I want to be outside beneath the silver moonlight, with the warm earth beneath us and the scent of poppies in the air.”

Tomi smiled at her again.

They slipped out of the palace and up to the hidden gate. The guards there grinned at them but said nothing, so they climbed a little way up the slope and found a place of soft grass, sheltered by olive trees. They lay down together with the hillside at their back and the dark blue Aegean in the distance before them.

“You do not regret this, Snake Lady?” Tomi asked.

“No,” she said firmly. “You and I have waited long enough.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Secret Plans

BOOK: Mood Riders
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