by Laura Gill
I did not believe her. We were but five women and a girl. Everyone and everything that was dangerous would bother us.
Rhona fell silent a while. She spoke only when she sensed reticence on my part. I do not know how she knew of the feelings roiling inside me, of the constant urge to cry and turn around and run home, when I was doing my utmost to pen those unbecoming emotions up inside.
Those feelings subsided somewhat as the morning advanced and Helios’s chariot brought the heat and dust, and my body protested the unfamiliar exertion of trying to keep up with the women. Soon my calves burned and a stitch grew in my side. My feet blistered. As I limped along, I briefly forgot about the lurking perils of the wilderness and thought only about the comforts I craved. The garden courtyard, the ladies with their kind words and sweetmeats and gossip, and the pretty frescoes in my room.
Sostrate let me rest when we came to the outskirts of Lerna, but only a little while, and then she scolded me for wanting to tarry under the plane trees. “The cure for sore legs is more walking,” she informed me.
Rhona showed me how to pad my shoes with fresh grass. “This will help until you toughen up. You’ll be surprised at how quickly your body adapts, especially with you being so young.”
I did not feel tough, just tired and defeated, and worse, Sostrate was not done criticizing. She assessed my use of the walking stick. “It’s not a crutch to lean on unless you’re an invalid or an old woman, and you’re neither. It’s a tool and a weapon.”
“Sostrate,” Rhona warned, “she’s almost at her limit. Let her lean on it if it helps.”
The Hunter shook her head. “We’re heading into the hills. It won’t do to have her snake-bitten before she reaches the sanctuary.”
“She might not be walking by then.” The Gleaner heaved a great sigh. “You never watched children, have you? Back in the days before you entered the Mistress’s service?”
While they went back and forth, Sostrate claiming that the children in her village were as tough as the mountains themselves, I seized the opportunity to sit down again. If only it was almost night so we could stop here! We seemed to have been hiking the whole day, even though Helios’s chariot rode high in the heavens.
Sostrate noticed right away. “Stand up, girl. You’re soft, weak. The only way to toughen up is to push yourself until you drop, then pick yourself up and keep going. While you can still walk, I expect you to be vigilant. That means looking out for yourself, watching for danger. Now show me your walking stick.”
How did she expect me to watch out for myself when she allowed me no weapons, when others always kept guard? I held out the stick, while shifting from one foot to another to alleviate the pain; the grass padding did not help much.
“A walking stick guards against snakes, like this,” Sostrate said. She demonstrated how to walk swinging the stick in a shallow arc ahead of her, then made me practice. “Keep your eyes on the path, and avoid daydreaming. The surest way to get bitten is to forget what you’re doing.”
Exhaustion and dejection made me clumsy. Now, among the lions, wolves, outlaws, and maenads haunting the wilderness, I had to worry about snakes. The mountain paths would be crawling with them. That, compounded with everything else from my aching limbs to Father’s rejection, was enough to send my nerves hurtling over the edge.
“What’s this?” Sostrate exclaimed. “Again?”
“She’s a spoiled crybaby,” Thettale muttered.
I looked to Rhona, but this time she did not gather me in her arms. “That’s enough, girl,” she admonished. “You’re too old to make a scene.”
Nonetheless, I kept bawling, because I was a king’s daughter yet nobody wanted me and the mountain was crawling with lions and wolves and poisonous snakes. Even when Sostrate slapped me, I howled.
The Hunter roughly shook me. “Stop that, girl! Do you want the Mistress to be angry? You’ve no idea how lucky you are to be claimed by the Women of the Mountain for the Mistress.”
I knuckled the stinging tears from my eyes. “I want to go home!”
“To that palace full of men where women aren’t allowed to do anything?” The other Hunters snickered at Sostrate’s remark. “You’ll like your new home much better.”
I vehemently shook my head. “I don’t like snakes and bears and lions!”
Sostrate clipped my ear, but gently, to chide rather than hurt. “That’s because you’re ignorant. Snakes are the goddess’s messengers. As for bears and lions, your bawling will attract them like locusts to honey. The first rule of the wilderness is silence. You hear that, girl? Silence.”
Sniffling, I mopped my nose with my left sleeve; the other sleeve was stiff and shredded from my wiping my nose all day. “I don’t want to get bitten.”
“Bitten? Only fools and men who have no respect for the Mistress get bitten,” Sostrate continued. “You’re not a man, and it remains to be seen whether you’re a fool. Are you a fool?” I shook my head. She looked skeptical. “Serpents prefer to avoid people, and they’re very good at concealing themselves. They blend in with their surroundings, or hide in ditches or under rocks where it’s cool during the day.”
My cheeks burned with shame. I wished I had not cried, but I could not help it. Every time the Hunter scolded, or I thought about those who did not want me, or dwelled on aches and pains, the tears came unbidden.
Sostrate’s grunting her approval banished some of the storm clouds. I began to feel a bit more confident, more receptive to her advice.
“You must be especially careful on the smaller paths where people rarely tread,” she said. “You probably won’t encounter any snakes during our journey, but you might.” Then, unexpectedly, she wagged a forefinger at me. “But remember this always, never meddle with a snake unless you’ve been trained and consecrated in their handling. Never harm or kill a snake, because, remember, they’re the Mistress’s special messengers.”
Sostrate was impatient to start out again, so we left the shade of the trees and passed Lerna with its whitewashed houses and sea views. Yet when I tried to hang back with Rhona, a more agreeable traveling companion, Sostrate insisted that I remain with her. “I’ve not done instructing you,” she said. “Do you know the difference between a poisonous serpent and a harmless one?”
More about serpents. I wished she would change subjects, perhaps talk about hunting or the sanctuary, but I shook my head in obedience to her query nevertheless.
“Venomous serpents have a triangular head with a pit behind the eyes,” she said. “If you should venture too near one, don’t make any sudden motion, but move very, very slowly away. The Mistress’s servants do not like to be disturbed.”
“Yes,” I murmured.
“Louder!” she barked. “You’re not a mouse.”
I repeated myself, this time more clearly. “What about the other animals of the wilderness? Lions and wild boar and bears?”
She shrugged. “What about them?”
How could she be so seemingly indifferent to such a serious matter? To hear the men speak, the wilderness was crawling with dangerous animals. “Who will protect us?”
Overhearing my remark, all the women laughed. “Who do you think?” Sostrate snorted. “How many times have I got to tell you? We’re not helpless ladies of the court but strong Women of the Mountain, wise in the ways the Mistress taught us.”
“Does the girl think our weapons are just for show?” Kynane remarked. “Who does she think does the hunting?”
I flushed, berating myself for implying such a thing. Or maybe I had dismissed their daggers and bows and arrows as mere props, because I had yet to see the women deploy them as weapons. “Then why do men complain that hunting is so dangerous?”
“Because it is,” Phylo replied.
“Because they’re fools,” Kynane said.
“Because they exaggerate everything to impress women who don’t know any better,” Thettale chimed in.
“Because they’re not wise in the ways of the
Mistress,” Sostrate said firmly. She raised a hand, as if saying her answer was the final one, the only one that mattered. “No, listen. They pray to Artemis to safeguard their hunt, but their Artemis is weak, a mere shadow of the greatness that is Potnia Theron.” Mentioning the goddess’s name elicited a worshipful murmur from the other women. “She can’t protect them as our Mistress can.”
“The herdsmen in the hills know better,” Thettale added. “They know how to honor the old powers, how to keep safe.”
I stepped around a broken cobble; the road beyond Lerna was not well-kept, but shabby and overgrown in places with weeds. Were there venomous serpents lurking among the stones? I saw none, but, shuddering, thought there must be. “They have dogs, too.”
“Dogs are great friends,” Phylo agreed.
“The herdswomen have them,” Kynane said.
“Herdswomen? Herding is a man’s work.”
Again, all the women laughed, and I felt stupid for once more having assumed that somewhere, somehow men must be part of the sacred mountain community. Who else built sturdy houses and forged bronze? Who else herded the goats and sheep, and guarded the sanctuary at night? How could there be babies, without the help of men?
“She doesn’t believe yet,” Rhona said from behind. “She has to see for herself.” I felt the weight of her hands on my shoulders. “Girl, if you’re afraid of the spirits of the wilderness, pray to the Mistress around your neck. Let her know you’re there.”
I had forgotten the amulet I wore under my clothes, because no spirit inhabited the unadorned terracotta. Such an empty thing had no power to protect me. Yet, mindful that the women would chastise me, I said nothing.
We left the main path in the afternoon, and headed onto the higher ground of the foothills, leaving the coast and the gulf of Argolis behind. Exhaustion dulled my reflexes; I could no longer follow anyone’s instruction. Phylo carried me on her shoulders, then Kynane, who grumbled that I was too old to be coddled. Being able to rest helped a little; at times, I found myself nodding off, but never for very long. Wilderness sounds jolted me awake. We were lost in the mountains, I feared, no matter how many times I reminded myself that the women knew where they were going. Or did they?
My sense of dread and loss intensified, in stark contrast to the women, who inexplicably relished the openness of the high places. What was there to love? Only savage, bloodthirsty creatures like Pan or immortals like Dionysus loved the wilderness. I was civilized, a princess of Argos, except that Argos was getting farther and farther away, and I did not know if I would ever return. I rested my head against Kynane’s and tried not to cry.
“You’re awake up there?” Kynane asked. “Good. Maybe you can try walking a little more. I’m not a mule cart, you know.”
I limped along for the next hour. Kynane held my hand, but, like Sostrate, expected me to use my walking stick as instructed. Focusing on the path ahead took all my attention, so it was a distraction when Kynane spoke.
“You’re doing well, but you’re tired, and tired girls will make mistakes. I’m probing ahead, too, so leave that to me.”
I managed a grateful nod and expected that to be the end, but she continued speaking in the quiet tones the women used in the wilderness. “I know you feel vulnerable out here, but even a soft girl like you isn’t completely helpless in the wild. Remember, never wander off by yourself, but if somehow you should get lost, stay right where you are so we can find you. There’s strength in numbers, whether you’re among men or beasts.”
She nudged me to make sure I followed, before giving me one last instruction. “Now, if you should ever encounter a beast like a lion or bear, don’t show fear, and above all don’t run. Animals can smell fear, and if you act like prey then you become prey, and that’s it.” She made a whooshing sound and gesture. “Your shade’s flown.”
The women appeared unconcerned about Helios’s chariot descending, but the coming of night awakened fears that wild animals would devour us as we slept, or worse, that the dark goddess would send demons. Kynane shook her head when I confided this fear to her. “The Mistress will protect us from evil.” Then she added, “And we will take turns standing guard.”
When they found a suitable spot, the women reconnoitered the area, probing carefully with their walking sticks for snakes, and checking nearby thickets for wild boar. Thettale and Sostrate gathered kindling for a fire. Kynane and Phylo followed the audible gurgle of water to a stream to refill the waterskins. Rhona remained behind to watch me.
“We’ve used this camp before,” she explained. With her stick she brushed aside leaves and other natural debris to reveal a circle of fire-blackened stones. “We carry a smoldering cinder in a jar so we don’t have to invoke the spirit of fire every time we make camp, but all Women of the Mountain learn how to make fire in case they find themselves in the wilderness without. You’ll learn, too, when you’re ready.”
Once Thettale got the blaze going, it felt warm and comforting, a bit of security in the wilderness, although not as big a fire as I would have liked. The night noises heralding the moon’s rising pricked gooseflesh all along my arms, and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I tensed, expecting at any moment to hear the roar of a lion or howl of a wolf, but when I tried to add more sticks to the fire, the women stopped me. “We have enough,” Sostrate scolded.
“But the bears, and the demons of the dark will—”
“The Mistress holds them at bay,” the Hunter insisted, “and we always post sentries. How do you think we crossed the wilderness before? I’ve been telling you all day, we know the ways of these mountains, and have the goddess’s protection.”
We cooked nothing over the fire that night, instead eating from our stores of dried fruit and preserved meat that might as well have been leather, it was so difficult to chew. I wanted flatbread with honey and cheese, but held my tongue, because that morning, after eating my last breakfast in the palace, Sostrate had informed me that if I wanted to taste bread again I would have to grind the grain into flour, knead the dough, and bake it myself. Did the woman never have anything nice or encouraging to say? Would the high priestess she served be as pessimistic and sour? I dared not hope the woman would be kindly, lest I be disappointed later.
After supper, we bedded down straightaway in preparation for tomorrow’s traveling. Rhona admonished me to wake her should I have to relieve myself. “All of us do likewise for each other,” she reassured me. “No one wanders off alone in the dark.”
My bedding was not as soft as I was used to; the fleece was old and musty with some other woman’s odor. And while the fire was warm, the ground was rough and lumpy, and drained the heat from me. No one else complained, but I found it hard not to cry. Sostrate glared at me from across the flames. “Whimpering and bellyaching is the surest way to draw predators.”
“Can’t you see she’s homesick?” Rhona countered. “Nights are the worst when you’re not accustomed to traveling. It’s not such an easy thing to sleep under the stars when all you’ve ever known is a soft bed.”
Phylo nudged me. “See the stars?”
I peered upward through the black tangle of branches that held a full-bellied moon captive, and gawped at the stars. So many of them, more than were visible from Argos, where the rolling sea fog often obscured all but the brightest.
“Those,” Phylo said, “are the souls of all those faithful to the Mistress. You see that, the white clouds of stars? That’s her milk. Her consorts are up there, too, all the year-kings she’s wooed and sacrificed.”
I did not tell her that some of the stars, the constellations, were those worthy souls who Zeus rewarded by setting them in the heavens.
A distant wolf howl suddenly made me jump. It did not seem to alarm anyone else.
“Relax,” Rhona urged. “And listen. You hear the kioo-kioo of the owl? That’s the Mistress as Athena keeping watch.”
The owl sounded very near. Had I not drifted off to sleep in Argos listening to the hoot
s of a familiar owl? So I tried to imagine and then hold onto the thought of Lady Athena cloaked in snow-white feathers, perched in the blackness of the trees, yet the reality of the goddess in the trees felt alien; this Athena was not the Argive protector I had known.
I wrapped myself tight in the fleece and tried to find a comfortable position; I had to lie folded double to get warm. The terracotta idol dug into my chest. Would I ever be able to sleep?
CHAPTER SIX
I woke in the gray haze presaging the dawn to a foot nudging the small of my back and Sostrate’s voice urging me to hurry up. Breakfast consisted of another strip of dried meat and a mouthful of water from my skin.
Thettale showed me how to safely extinguish a campfire. I attended her lesson as best I could despite my aching limbs. My calf muscles protested the slightest step I took, and my body was stiff all over from sleeping on the ground. Sostrate, as expected, showed no sympathy. She said, “You have to train yourself to accept these new hardships. The best remedy for stiffness and sore legs? Movement. More walking.”
My muscles did not only ache, they caught. A spasm of pain would hit an area, forcing me to whimper and favor another area. Sostrate noticed right away. “None of that! You work through the catches.”
Rhona came over carrying a handful of mud. “We should do something about your sunburn.” My what? Till she mentioned it, I had not noticed the tender patches of pink splotching my arms or face, although now my nose felt strangely taut when I crinkled it. “Here, the Mistress provides her own remedy. This will cool the burn and protect your skin.”
I disliked the mud she rubbed onto my arms and smeared onto my face. “You know the true reason pigs wallow in mud?” she asked. “Not because they like being dirty, but because they’re also particularly sensitive to Helios’s burning rays. Mud also masks your odor. Animals can sense your fear through your scent. Now we’ve concealed that.” She dabbed the last of the mud at the nape of my neck. Wordeia, who always insisted on my keeping my fingernails, my neck, and behind my ears clean, would have been scandalized.
