Voyage of the Snake Lady (10 page)

Chapter Eighteen
The Month of New Leaves

K
USPADA LEFT THE
next morning and Myrina followed his progress almost daily in her beautiful new mirror, missing his warmth and good-humored conversation by the fire each night. But while he was away she took the opportunity to spend each evening listening to the Moon Riders voicing their hopes and fears.

Coronilla insisted that she would not be looking for a husband among the Sinta tribe. “They’re fine men, every one of them,” she said. “But I am far too old and wise to take pleasure in such a life.”

Akasya agreed. “You’ll not catch me sitting in a home tent when I can be galloping through the sea of grass, a warm wind in my face.”

The two women shared a tent and were rarely apart; Myrina could see that together they were complete and needed no husbands to make them happy, but the thought of evenings without Kuspada brought sadness to her heart.

Her mirror told her that Iphigenia was still safe and living in comfort, waited on by servants and dressed in the finest gowns. Just once or twice she thought she saw a shadow of loneliness cross the young priestess’s face. As for Cassandra, the once sorrowful princess of Troy seemed to be always laughing and smiling, young Chryse at her side. Myrina could not help but smile when she glimpsed them. “You would almost think that she was his mother, rather than Chryseis,” she murmured.

She watched them with love, longing to see them in the flesh once again. She had lost so many friends—was she soon to lose more? Could she not find a way to keep all the Moon Riders together and happy? She wandered back to the camp from her mirror gazing, deep in thought. A new idea was coming into her head.

Kuspada returned with his men just as the Month of New Leaves began. His beautifully wrought gold work had bought them a fine collection of new stock. Myrina admired the healthy beasts and complimented him on choosing good breeding animals. If we Moon Riders ride away, we will leave all this behind, she thought.

It was almost as though Kuspada saw her thoughtfulness and knew the way that her mind was working. “Whatever is decided,” he told her, “half this stock is yours!”

Myrina smiled at him with gratitude; he was a very fair and decent man.

Kuspada was welcomed back to the camp with a feast and dancing, but that night he whispered to Myrina that the Month of New Leaves was here and if they were to feed their new stock they must soon move north, looking for fresh pastures.

“The grass grows fresh and lush to the north across the river,” he said. “We must move on and come south again to Eagle Rocks when the frosts return.”

She looked at him seriously, understanding well what must come next.

“The time has come for choices to be made,” he said. “Even the most slippery Snake Lady cannot slither out of this one.” Suddenly his teasing words turned solemn and he reached for her hand. “Will you stay with the Sinta tribe and be my Argimpasa?” he begged. “Argimpasa is the mother of our race. You and I can put our sadness behind us and start again. We can have fine children together and heal each other’s wounds.”

Myrina wanted to put her arms about him and say, “Yes, yes, yes!” But there were others to whom she owed loyalty. She shook her head sadly, and he turned away.

She could not go on like this—the decision could not be put off any longer.

That night, after they had eaten, Myrina rose to her feet and began to walk slowly around the fire with such an expression of solemn importance that it made the others quickly take notice and understand that she wished to speak. Silence fell, filled with anticipation—they all knew that this moment must come.

“Now is the Month of New Leaves,” she said. “And I must keep my promises both to the River People and to the Moon Riders.”

A rustle of uncertainty passed all around the camp; uncertain glances flew from person to person, woman to woman, and Sinta warrior to his loved one.

“You all have the right to decide. But before you make your choices I want to put another possibility to you.”

There were many glances of surprise, but Myrina continued quickly before she lost her nerve. “Why should we not all stay together, whether we wish to have Sinta husbands or not? We have weathered this winter in harmony, taking care of young and old. We have been hunters, men and women, riding out side by side to feed those who are too young or too sick.”

There were frowns and glances of suspicion, but Kuspada looked up at her, his face touched once more with hope. Coronilla turned to Akasya and shrugged; they whispered together, concern on both their faces.

Myrina went on. “There is something that I must say to the River People and they must try to understand. We Moon Riders are priestesses and wherever we are, whatever we do, we will dance for Maa and we will never cease to be warriors.”

“More like it, Snake Lady!” Coronilla cheered.

Myrina smiled, grateful for her support. “If you Sinta can accept wives who ride and fight, then why should we Moon Riders not live with you? We would hunt side by side as we have through the winter.”

Uncomfortable looks and nudges passed among the young Sinta warriors. They clearly thought little of this idea. Turxu got to his feet, looking worried. “It is not the Sinta way to have a wife who rides and fights.”

Fara was on her feet at once; the roundness of her belly did not impede her. She faced him angrily. “Why not?”

When he saw that her question was a serious one, he folded his arms, frowning and troubled. “It is just not the Sinta way!”

“But to crouch by the hearth is not the Moon Riders’ way!” Fara insisted. “You River People must think carefully—do you want wives or not?”

Turxu sat down again, still unhappy. Some of his friends jeered, but others looked thoughtful. A tense silence followed, and then Coronilla got up. Myrina bit her lips; she was desperate not to lose her oldest friend.

“Well,” Coronilla said roundly, “you all know what I think of sitting by hearths!” Suddenly there were smiles and laughter, and the tension seemed to break a little. “There is no way you’ll catch me doing that!” she continued.

“And no way that we’d ask you to!” a young and cheeky Sinta boy replied.

Kuspada looked at him sharply, but Coronilla had not taken offense. Now she turned to Fara and her friends. “My gang have been planning to ride away, should you decide to turn into ‘hearth huggers.’” They smiled at her uncertainly, wondering whether she was still teasing them, but Coronilla’s face was touched by sadness. “But we dread to do it.” She spoke low, so that everyone became quiet, straining to hear. “The sisterhood of the Moon Riders is very precious to us; it is something we do not want to lose.”

There was silence from all sides.

Coronilla smiled at Myrina and her tone lightened again. “But now our crafty Snake Lady has thought up another way, and I for one can see that it has merit. If these Sinta men that you like so much will accept wives who are bound to ride and fight, then we could stay with you, too. You younger women will need us older ones. When your bellies and arms are full of children, who will train the young warrior priestesses? We women who do not wish to take a husband will be the aunts and grandmothers of your tribe!”

Myrina smiled at her with gratitude. But now Kuspada rose to his feet and the young Sinta warriors turned to him, waiting respectfully to hear what he would say; he could carry the Sinta tribe or split them all apart.

He paused, choosing his words carefully. When he did begin, he spoke slowly. “Turxu spoke the truth,” he acknowledged. “Sinta wives have always been hearth keepers, but now, River People—I have to ask you this simple but painful question. Did living the Sinta way save our wives?”

It was a harsh question and there was a terrible silence. Many of the River People hung their heads and all was still.

Kuspada continued, and Myrina felt her heart wrung by the sorrow of the old wounds that the blacksmith bravely set bleeding. “I say that we should listen to the Snake Lady,” he said. “Had our lost wives been trained to ride and fight as these Moon Riders are, I believe they would be here with us now. We have lived side by side with the warrior priestesses and survived a hard winter; not one of us has died. Why should we not agree to live side by side with them as we move to new pastures and together make a new way of living?”

“I will do it!” Turxu shouted out.

Fara turned to him, smiling. “Side by side,” she shouted.

“Side by side,” they all roared their approval.

The decision was made. Myrina and Kuspada turned to face each other, wide smiles on both their faces.

That night Kuspada came to Myrina’s tent and they slept together, their arms tightly locked about each other. “Will you be my Argimpasa?” he whispered. “Will you bear new children to strengthen the bond that grows between the River People and the Moon Riders?”

Myrina laughed sleepily. “I am too old,” she chuckled.

“No.” His voice was warm. “Neither of us is too old. Will you be my Argimpasa?”

“Yes, I will,” she agreed.

In the morning they began the slow and careful job of packing up the tents, ready to move north across the river to look for fresh pastureland. The herd was unsettled, sensing that there was something different in the air. Myrina smiled to see the young Sinta girls now riding with confidence; it was often difficult to tell the girls from the boys. Tabi rode with ease, a toddler in front and a baby strapped tightly at her back.

“Just like the Mazagardi,” Myrina whispered.

By the evening they were almost ready; only the tents, empty of all their goods, were still in place. They all agreed that there was no point in waiting and that they should move off early next morning as soon as the sun peeped over the horizon. Myrina left them singing and dancing together, honoring the warm fold of rocks that had protected them through the Bitter Months. She wandered away, her mirror in her hand, feeling light and happy; all she needed now was to know that her distant friends were safe and well.

She found a sheltered spot and sat down, the reflection of the sky gray and pink in her mirror where the sun had just gone down. First she looked for Cassandra and was deeply saddened when she saw the priestess and the Mouse Boy hand in hand beside the still figure of Chryseis. What did this mean? Was Chryseis sleeping or sick? But as she watched she understood that the priestess had died. There behind them she could see a pyre. They had laid her out in her beautiful golden robe and sat beside her still and silent, mourning and keeping watch.

Myrina wept a little, wishing that she could be there with them, but she could see that Cassandra and Chryse were close, each comforting the other in their sorrow. She remembered how Cassandra had mothered little Chryse when he was a tiny babe and Chryseis too sick and hurt to look after him. Now it seemed she must mother him for good.

Myrina turned away from the sorrowful vision, feeling guilty that she should be so happy. Then she turned her thoughts toward Iphigenia. When she saw her friend she was filled with horror. “What is this?” she cried out loud.

Iphigenia was weeping bitterly in her elegant room. Her clothes were as beautiful as before, but when a servant approached her with food, Iphigenia turned around and knocked the elaborate tray to the floor. The angry gesture shocked Myrina. Iphigenia had never raised her hand in anger.

Myrina watched, so upset by what she saw that she could no longer hold the vision in her sight. Despite her efforts, the pathetic weeping figure faded and she could not manage to bring her back. Myrina was alone on the bleak hillside, afraid. How could she ride happily northward with the River People knowing that Iphigenia was in distress?

Chapter Nineteen
A Friend in Trouble

K
USPADA WAS COMING
to look for her as she wandered back, white faced and grim, her knuckles white where she gripped the mirror tightly. “What is it?” he asked, worried by the distraught look in her eyes.

The sinuous strength of the Snake Lady slipped away, leaving her weary with the struggle that her life had become. “What has happened?” Kuspada asked.

“Can’t come with you,” she mumbled. “Can’t come.”

“Why not?” he demanded, a gleam of anger in his eyes. “What has changed? You were warm and loving to me last night! You promised to be—” Then he saw the pain that distorted her face and stopped, afraid to press her further.

They stood together in silence for a moment, he in disbelief, she in despair, then suddenly Myrina tossed back her hair and lifted her chin.

“A dear friend has need of me and I must go at once to her aid!”

Kuspada was perplexed at Myrina’s sudden change of mind. “What friend is this? How can you know that she’s in trouble?”

Myrina sighed. How could she explain it to him? “I told you once how long ago we Moon Riders rode to Aulis and rescued the little Princess Iphigenia from being sacrificed to the goddess Artemis.”

He nodded, frowning hard, trying to remember what she’d said. The history of the Moon Riders had been long, and there had been many rescues and threatened lives.

“Well,” she went on, “then I also told you how we thought Iphigenia lost when the storm smashed our ship as we crossed the Inhospitable Sea. But . . . the princess was not lost—I cannot explain how I know, but you must believe me . . . I
do
know. It is the magic hidden in the beautiful mirror that you made that tells me so. She is in desperate trouble now and I must go to her.”

Kuspada raked his fingers through his hair, trying hard to understand. “But where is she?”

Myrina sighed and her lips twisted into a wry and bitter smile. “That I don’t know.”

“Then how can you find her?”

Myrina shook her head. “You must think me mad and perhaps I am, but I must do this. Iphigenia was washed away somewhere to the west of the river lands. What I do know is that she lives high above a city built on a steep hillside, where a narrow inlet from the sea makes a harbor. I will ride west and trust that I find her.”

Kuspada started a little and looked thoughtful, then he took her by the shoulders. “I will come with you.”

Myrina shook her head again with regret, for his steady, powerful presence at her side would indeed be a huge comfort. “No,” she insisted. “If the Moon Riders are to ride north with the Sinta, then I need to know that you go with them. Only you can see them safe and united.”

“But . . . to be parted so soon, when we just—!”

Myrina put up her hands and cupped his face. “Believe me,” she whispered, “this is not what I want to do.”

Kuspada pulled away from her. “What a fool,” he muttered angrily. “What a stupid old fool, to give my heart to a slippery snake lady.”

“Do not disappoint me so!” she told him, suddenly fierce, grasping his arm in a grip of iron. “Kuspada, you are a bigger man than that. I could not feel as I do for any man that were less than you.”

He was silent for a moment, then he turned to her again and his face was full of quiet dignity. “I think . . . I may know where your princess landed.”

Myrina loosed her grip and slid her palm down to clasp his hand, waiting for him to say more.

He spoke reluctantly. “When we traveled west selling our gold, in many of the small towns there was talk of a strange and beautiful young woman who was washed ashore at Tauris. That place is built on a steep hillside, high above an inlet. They call this young woman Hepsuash, which means ‘the Girl from the Sea.’ They said that King Thoas dismissed the old priestess of Artemis at Tauris and made this young girl priestess in her place.”

“Yes, yes . . . ?” Myrina was eager to hear more. This fitted well with her visions of Iphigenia. “Where is this Tauris? Is it far?”

“A city to the west where the land dips out into the sea. If you follow the coast you will reach it, but . . . it is a long way and the people there are feared, for they sacrifice strangers who are shipwrecked—sacrifice them to Artemis. It is a wonder indeed that this Hepsuash was not sacrificed herself. If this is your Iphigenia, she may well be in great danger and if you go riding to her rescue again, you will be in peril, too.”

But Myrina was not the Snake Lady for nothing. As she listened to his words her spirits rose and though she was so sorry to leave him, a faint tingling of excitement came to her at the thought of riding west.

She smiled fiercely and pulled him down toward her, kissing him on the lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “What you have told me is of great help—forewarned is forearmed. Now that I know where to look I may come back sooner than you think. If I live I will follow your trail and return to you. Do not fear for me—ask Coronilla; they all call me the great survivor.”

Kuspada sighed. “I will wait,” he said. “I will wait, however long it takes.”

They walked back together hand in hand. “When will you tell them?” Kuspada asked.

Myrina looked sadly at the circle of eager, dancing warriors. “In the morning,” she said.

The Moon Riders emerged from their tents to welcome the sun, but as the first pink fingers of light went streaking across the grasslands, Myrina took Tamsin and Phoebe by the hand and drew them away from the dance. “I have something important to tell you both and something to ask. I have made a difficult choice; now you, too, must make a choice and it may be very hard for you!”

They looked at each other, hushed by her serious words.

“I will not be going with the Moon Riders or the River People,” she said. “My mirror visions have told me that Iphigenia is in great trouble and I believe that she is living many days’ journey to the west of here. I must go to help her—do you understand this?”

They stared at her, frowning for a moment, but then they both nodded. “Yes,” they answered firmly.

“What is the choice that we must make?” Phoebe asked uncomfortably.

“Do you want to come with me or do you wish to go with Coronilla and Akasya and make a new life with the River People?”

Tamsin was silent and Phoebe looked troubled. “You are not going away forever, are you?” she asked.

“No,” Myrina told her. “But there is danger where I go. I cannot be sure what will be the outcome. You would both be safer traveling with the others and waiting until I return to you with Iphigenia.”

Tamsin looked at her mother with astonishment. “I am only safe with you,” she said.

Myrina could not help but be pleased at the fearlessness in her words. “Are you sure, Little Lizard?”

“Quite sure,” Tamsin told her.

“And what is your choice, Young Tiger?” she asked Phoebe.

The girl who never hesitated did hesitate now, and Myrina saw at once that it was not the guardianship of Coronilla or Akasya that brought this about. She held out her arms to Phoebe and hugged her tightly. “The time comes for all young tigers to leave their mother,” she whispered. “I will be happy thinking of you riding through the rolling grasslands, with Leni at your side.”

“Thank you, Snake Lady.” Phoebe smiled, but then she turned to Tamsin. “You and I have never been parted,” she said.

Myrina watched them hug each other solemnly and she felt that her heart would break.

When they returned to their friends they found them ready on horseback, waiting only for Myrina to give the word to move. Kuspada stood awkwardly by Dorag, looking unhappy, knowing what must now be said.

“Come on, Snake Lady,” Coronilla said. “We all wait for you!”

“You must wait a little longer, dear friend,” Myrina told her.

When she spoke to them of her plan there was uproar, as she’d expected. “We’ll come, too,” Coronilla insisted. “How dare you think you can go riding off to fight the king of Tauris without us at your back!”

Myrina took a deep breath; she knew that she must be resolute. “I go to fight nobody—I go in stealth; you know that is my way. The rescue of Iphigenia from Aulis taught us that. You must head north and stick together if we are to make this plan of ours work. You all have skills to contribute if we are to unite with the River People and make a new and better life.”

“By Maa, I should have suspected something like this—you crafty snake!” Coronilla hissed.

“But how will you live?” Akasya was concerned with the practicalities of such a plan.

“I have thought it all out.” Myrina tried hard to sound confident. “I take only Tamsin with me and six of the best mares. I am a widowed Sinta horse dealer, traveling with my daughter. If I need money I sell a horse. Nobody will be suspicious of me because that is exactly who I am.”

“Huh! That and a whole lot more,” Coronilla protested.

But it was hard for them to argue, for it was true that a mother and daughter traveling together would raise little suspicion, and nobody would be likely to think that they were not all they said they were.

Coronilla turned to Kuspada. “Are you going to let her ride out of your life?” she cried.

Kuspada looked back at Coronilla, amazed, and then he suddenly laughed. “I never thought to hear you telling me that I should order the Snake Lady to do anything! If Myrina is determined, then nothing I can do will change her mind.”

Coronilla frowned. “By Maa . . . I suppose you are right! Well, remember, Snake Lady,” she said at last. “Kuspada has made me a new mirror, too! I shall be watching you!”

Myrina smiled and went to them, her arms outstretched. Kuspada brought out six of the sturdiest mares, caparisoned with the finest gold bits and bridles, roped together so that Myrina would look like the Sinta widow she claimed to be. He also gave her a pouch of gold coins that she hid inside her smock.

Then reluctantly the great caravan of travelers set off, picking their way through the rocks on the hillside, heading northward across the rolling grassy plains.

“I will wait,” Kuspada whispered; then he swung himself up onto Dorag’s back and rode away.

Myrina and Tamsin sat watching them, their lips pressed tightly together in a brave line.

Big Chief tossed his head and snorted in protest at the sight of his many wives heading northward away from him. Myrina gentled him and whispered in his ears, so that he turned obediently at her bidding, but as they moved off they heard the sound of hooves behind them. Myrina stopped. What was this? She could not face more sad farewells.

“Snake Mother!” Phoebe came galloping after them on Sandmane.

Tamsin frowned as Phoebe caught up, a wide, confident smile on her face. “Leni will have to wait a while,” she told them. “Snake Mother, you have two daughters once again!”

Both Myrina and Tamsin smiled. Then Big Chief moved off, leading his six new wives toward the marshes, heading westward as the sun rose in the sky.