Mood Riders (36 page)

The Achaeans were absorbed in their task, so that they did not immediately see the gang of women who appeared over the hilltop to the side of them. Myrina almost stopped at the sight of them, but Cassandra’s last words came to her: “Do not stop, or turn back, just ride, ride, ride!”

She whipped her bow from her shoulder and had an arrow notched before any of the men had noticed. Then, as she rode on and more Moon Riders appeared over the hilltop with bows instantly at the ready, she knew that they must simply charge their way through.

The Achaeans were not armed with bows, but some had spears and swords. As soon as they saw the Snake Lady charging toward them, they snatched up their weapons, but Myrina could see fear in their eyes as memories of Penthesilea came to their minds. Then suddenly there was a shout from their leader. “Hold!” Odysseus bellowed.

Myrina slowed Isatis for just a moment, wondering if he would recognize her as the friend of Yildiz and Penthesilea.

“Hold!” he repeated, his eyes wide with surprise as he looked at the strange mixture of women who followed Myrina: Moon Riders in full armor and helmets, weary ragged slaves with children in their arms, and even two priestesses.

Then he spoke quietly. “Our quarrel is not with such as you. Do not interfere with us and you may ride on!”

Myrina lowered her bow and gave a sharp little nod; she rode on fast.

All through the day she rode on and on. She remembered the words that Cassandra had used to describe her dream: “You were leading a great herd, and yet you were somehow terribly alone!” The words echoed through her head. No Yildiz! No Tomi! Gone . . . all gone. Alone.

Then she forced those thoughts away. She was not alone, not on Isatis’s back. She could never be alone, not while she still had Isatis. She made herself chant under her breath, “Just ride, ride, ride! I am not alone!”

She led the women through the high mountainous lands that she knew so well, heading north toward the coast of the Sea of Marmara. She did not stop for anything; she did not stop to look for Tomi or ask about him. She knew the price that she had paid for freedom—it was a high price indeed.

Chryseis and Theano separated from them when the sun was high in the sky. They did not stop to say good-bye, just gave the priestess’s salute and turned their horses’ heads to the west. Myrina understood from their sorrowful looks that they understood only too well the sacrifice that had been made.

As the sun sank, Myrina slowed her pace at last. They came to a stream with a dark silhouette of sheltering trees that she recognized would make a good resting place for the night. Coronilla and Akasya came to her at once, leading the riderless Moon Silver, their faces grim.

Myrina slipped down from Isatis’s back, bone-weary and numb. “Do not say it!” she warned them angrily. “I do not want to hear the words!”

They obeyed her and all the women moved quietly in sympathy, hushing their children in respect for her feelings. They lit a fire with flint and the dried fennel twigs that Coronilla had brought and drank the clean fresh water of the stream. Though there had been little time to think of food—and little food left in Troy to bring—Coronilla had managed to snatch up a bag of grain so that they could make flat bread cakes. The Moon Riders showed the children that many of the trees were apple trees and still bore fruit. Myrina heard small voices whispering joyfully in the Luvvian language, “We have apples and freedom!”

“Tomorrow you will have fish from the Sea of Marmara,” she promised. “My friend the King of Marble Island will help us in every way he can.”

Tears came at last to her and she wandered away from the others and sat down beside the stream. The women allowed her to weep in peace, but when at last she was so weary that no more tears would come, she began to dry her eyes, hearing a gentle rhythmical sound in the distance. She got up and wandered back toward the camp. All the women—Moon Riders, those who had once been slaves, and even their children—were dancing about the fire, arms linked, turning their heads to the north, to the south, and then up to the moon. There beneath the apple trees they moved together, singing the strange song that had sustained them through all their years of hardship in Troy.

Myrina approached, but they still sang on, more gently than ever. A powerful wave of comfort flooded out to her from each and every one of them. As she came close they slowed and stopped, uncertain whether they caused more pain.

“No,” she said. “Don’t stop. You must always do this dance. You must never forget it. It is a dance of great power and it will carry you through all you have to face.”

“We won’t forget it.” Akasya held out her hand to Myrina. “Come and join us. Tonight we dance to honor Tomi and after this day, whenever we do this dance, we will always think of him.”

Myrina went to her, smiling shakily. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They made a space for her and then started to sing and move together again in harmony, turning their heads from side to side like rippling waves, and then up to the silver moon.

It was the Month of New Leaves and five women, mounted on horseback, reined in their mares at the top of the highest hill above the thickly wooded valley of the River Thermodon. They looked confidently to the south, for six months had passed since the city of Troy had fallen and most of the raiding Achaeans had returned to their homes. The tribal traveling lands were slowly becoming safe again.

Atisha and Hati were both very old and slow-moving, but they had insisted on riding out that afternoon. Iphigenia and Centaurea moved a little way ahead, but the most eager of all was four-year-old Phoebe, who rode her mare as confidently and straight-backed as the adults. “Snake Lady, Snake Lady, come to us!” she whispered impatiently.

At last they thought they could see movement in the distance. They strained their eyes. “Is it them?” Phoebe shrilled.

“Yes, my little cistus flower, I think so.” Atisha’s voice cracked with emotion.

They urged their horses forward. Atisha and Hati slowed their mounts so that they could take in the sight and wonder at it. Myrina rode toward them on Isatis at the head of a huge party of horsewomen; Akasya and Coronilla galloped at her side. Behind them followed the great mass of riders, their steeds well fed, with gleaming coats. They rode as though they had spent their lives in the saddle and every one of them was equipped with leather body armor, strung bows and quivers full of arrows fastened to their thighs. Little children sat confidently in front of their mothers; the older children who rode with them managed their own mounts with confidence. The Moon Riders were a strong and potent force once again.

“Snake Lady.” Hati’s voice broke. Tears spilled down her withered cheeks as she welcomed Myrina, hugging her tight. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “A whole new band of Moon Riders at your back.”

“Grandmother,” Myrina scolded, “you never cry!”

“On such a day as this I do.” Hati had no shame in the tears.

“We have seen all your joys and sorrows,” Atisha told Myrina sadly. “We know the rash courage of Penthesilea, and those that you have had to leave behind.”

Hati wiped her eyes. “I am so sorrowful that when I go there will be only you and little Phoebe left of our once great Mazagardi tribe.”

“No, that is not quite true, Grandmother,” Myrina told her, smiling, “for I will be needing your help as a midwife soon.”

Then Atisha and Hati laughed with joy as they saw that her hand rested protectively on her swollen belly.

“It seems that Phoebe and I will not be the last of the Mazagardi after all!”

M
YRINA AND
I
PHIGENIA
sat together beside a waterfall on a hot day in the Month of Burning Heat. Myrina’s tiny daughter, Tamsin, lay beside them in the shade, kicking her legs, but for once both the women were ignoring her, each one gazing into her own mirror, but sharing the vision they saw.

Suddenly Iphigenia cried out, shocked, “He is dead. My father is dead!”

Myrina reached out and clasped her hand, but neither of them dared to take her eyes from her mirror, for Cassandra, the one they were most concerned about, stood face to face with Iphigenia’s mother, Clytemnestra. They could see the terrible anger that was written there in the aging queen’s face; she was a bitter, dark-haired version of her sister Helen.

As they watched, Clytemnestra reached accusingly to Cassandra with a bloodstained hand, but the Princess of Troy did not flinch. She stood her ground and spoke. Though Myrina and Iphigenia could not hear the words clearly, they understood very well what was being said. Suddenly Clytemnestra put her head down and sobbed. It was Cassandra’s own arms that reached out to comfort the woman.

“She knows,” Myrina said. “Your mother knows at last that you are safe.”

Iphigenia heaved a great sigh. “Of this at least I am glad.”

Then they watched as Clytemnestra led the way, hand in hand with Cassandra, down steep steps to a waiting boat. Hurriedly she ushered the princess on board and then stood back on the harborside, watching as the boat was rowed away and the sails were unfurled.

Cassandra sat there on the deck as the wind caught the sails and the captain gave the order to draw in the oars. The watchers both smiled as they saw her expression; it was one of great peace.

“She is safe.” Iphigenia breathed with relief. “But where will she go?”

Myrina smiled and did not hesitate. “To the island of Sminthe,” she said. “Perhaps one day you and I will go there, too.”

Moon Riders:

Myrina
—the Snake Lady, daughter of Aben and Gul, granddaughter of Hati, sister of Reseda, member of the Mazagardi tribe; an imaginary character.

Cassandra
—Princess of Troy, daughter of Priam; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Atisha
—Leader of the Moon Riders, old friend of Hati; an imaginary character.

Penthesilea
—Moon Rider, Atisha’s second-in-command; she is based on Penthesilea the Amazon Queen, a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in “The Fall of Troy,” a heroic poem by Quintus of Smyrna.

Hati, Gul, and Reseda
—female family members of Myrina who were Moon Riders before her; imaginary characters.

Yildiz and Phoebe
—daughters of Reseda; imaginary characters.

Trojans:

Priam
—King of Troy; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Hecuba
—Queen of Troy; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Paris
—Prince of Troy, son of Priam, Helen’s lover; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Hector
—Prince of Troy, eldest son of Priam; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Chryseis
—friend of Cassandra, daughter of Chryse, priest of Apollo; based on a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Achaeans:

Agamemnon
—King of Mycenae, powerful overlord of the Achaean lands; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Clytemnestra
—Queen of Mycenae, wife of Agamemnon, mother of Iphigenia and also Helen’s sister; character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Iphigenia
—Princess of Mycenae, daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, friend to Cassandra; a character from Greek mythology,
not
mentioned in the
Iliad
but in Aeschylus’s
The Libation Bearers
and Euripides’
Iphigenia at Aulis
and
Iphigenia at Tauris
.

Menelaus
—King of Sparta; a character from Greek mythology portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Helen
—Queen of Sparta, wife of Menelaus, Paris’s lover, and Clytemnestra’s sister; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Achilles
—Leader of the Myrmidon warriors who fight on behalf of Agamemnon; a character from Greek mythology, portrayed in Homer’s
Iliad
.

Over the years Theresa Tomlinson has developed an outstanding reputation for her historical novels. Shortlisted twice for the Carnegie Medal and for the Sheffield Children’s Book Award, she takes a keen interest in the historical background of the northeast coast of England. Visits to Turkey have sparked Theresa’s imagination to research the ancient world of Troy and have resulted in
THE MOON RIDERS
, the first of two novels about the intriguing Amazon women and, in particular, Myrina of the Mazagardi tribe.