Paul jumped up and ran to the box, crowing excitedly. He opened it and grabbed the necklace. There was a high pitched whine, a sort of joyous, mineral shriek, and the beautiful blue lamp that had followed Alexander all the way from Pella, exploded in a scintillating shower of blue sparks and flame.
I bounded across the rug, snatching Chiron out of his hammock and grabbed Paul by one arm. I pulled them both out of the tent, while Alexander, cursing heartily, rolled the rug up over the flames and smothered them.
It took ages to set the tent straight again. The lamp was gone and the rug was mortally wounded, sporting huge blackened holes. There were burned spots on Alexander’s precious table. My feet were cut and bleeding. Paul clutched the singing necklace and screamed if we tried to prise it from his hands, and while he had it, its blue light cast a ghostly glow over him. Alexander’s men refused to approach.
Finally, I hobbled as far as the beach, and there I pulled the necklace out of Paul’s fingers and flung it into the water. I could still see it though, glowing palely in the shallows.
Back at the tent Axiom, Brazza, and Alexander tried to clear up the mess, while Alexander continued to lament over his lamp and rug. Paul crawled onto my lap, but all he wanted was Maia or the necklace.
‘I want to see the necklace. I want Maia,’ he said stubbornly over and over again.
Finally, I got up and limped all the way to the little house at the end of the village. It was the only way we were going to get any sleep that night. Paul trotted happily beside me. He ran to Maia, throwing himself into her arms, not even glancing at me.
Maia was too kind to give me any sort of ‘I told you so’ look. I was too heartsick to care. I hopped back to the tent. Usse took care of my feet while I sat on the bed and cried.
Alexander surveyed the wreckage and sighed. ‘I did hear tell the child was a harbinger of destruction.’ He looked up at the tent ceiling where the empty chain swung back and forth. ‘I’ll miss that lamp,’ he said thoughtfully.
I cried harder. ‘A lamp isn’t a child,’ I sobbed. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ll miss Paul when we leave?’
‘I do, actually,’ he said softly. He knelt by my side. ‘But he’ll be happy. Can you try, just try, to understand that he will be happy here?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve searched for so long, I’ve missed him so much. Only six more weeks before we leave …’ My voice broke.
‘I’ll bring the children back, see if I don’t. Then Paul will have playmates.’
‘He already does. There are three families who have decided to settle here.’
‘I know. And many more will stay when we finally leave.’
I sniffled. ‘I threw the necklace in the lake.’
‘Oh, I got it back. It was scaring the men who saw it.’
‘I’m sorry about the rug and the lamp.’
‘I’ll get new ones. I was getting tired of that lamp anyway – too blue. I think I’ll get a yellow one. I hear there are beautiful rugs in Indus. I can replace a rug and a lamp, but I could never replace you, or Paul. I’ve learned to live without my son. But I will never learn to live without you.’ His eyes were sad.
‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in a long time,’ I told him.
‘I’m sick at heart about Paul. I have tried to tell you that, but I was too proud. I was sure that you would choose to stay here with him instead of coming with me. I want you to come with me. I need you.’ He said it as simply as a child, looking at me, his arms loose at his sides.
I closed my eyes. I could feel the seconds slipping by like grains of sand, the minutes like pearls on a string, sliding through my fingers. Then the hours, the days, and the months would become years, and they would fly. Three years. So little time. I would stay with Alexander. I could always come back for Paul if I wanted to. If he wanted me. Alexander did want me. He needed me. And I was a fool.
I took him in my arms. ‘I’m coming with you. Never believe for one second that I would leave you.’
‘I believe. Thank you.’ He stroked my back, cupped my face in his hands, put his forehead against mine, and stared into my eyes. His eyes, so fey, the twin kingdoms of heaven and earth, were sad. He smiled though. ‘I will take you with me to Hercules’ rock. I want you to see me in action.’
‘Won’t there be danger?’ I asked.
‘Lots of danger, cold, snow, catapults, yelling, screaming, and people dying. But it will be heroic. You’ll see. We’ll capture a fortress no one has ever captured before, and I’ll build a great statue to Nike, spirit of victory, companion of Zeus and Athena!’
‘My, aren’t we optimistic,’ I said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Just what is that stuff that Usse gives you?’
‘Some sort of potion for my melancholy, why?’
‘Well, I think you should give it to your whole army.’
I was just joking, but Alexander took me at my word. The results were incredible, to say the least.
Chapter Seven
We spent winter and spring in the Valley of the Gods. We got to know the quiet, fair people who lived in the tranquil valley. There were not many of them left. Isolation and a reputation for magic had kept them insular, and now with their children gone, they were even fewer than before. They farmed and fished, but ate no red meat. They had chickens for eggs. They made wine, which was, to Alexander and his men, proof that they were descendants of Dionysus. They didn’t worship any gods, not even Dionysus, but they told stories and seemed to know all the old legends. Alexander’s men were in awe of them and rarely strayed into the village, staying in the encampment.
The villagers, gentle, curious folk, wandered about the camp, asking questions and poking into everything. They were quite impressed with the elephants, and would line up in solemn rows to watch them being bathed in the afternoons. They would appear suddenly in the tent, looking with great interest at the furniture, the beds – they slept in hammocks – the bronze braziers – they had small stone hearths or braziers made of clay or copper – or even our clothes. They used no dyes except onion skins, and wore plain woollen robes.
They asked a million questions. They were both wise and incredibly childlike. They also had the nicest houses I’d seen in a country village. They were wood frame houses, set on stone foundations with wooden floors and walls; well insulated and sturdy. They cooked in clay pots and baked bread in ovens that would still be in use three thousand years later. They had a forge, a waterwheel to grind grain, a vast cellar where the wine was made, and a herd of shaggy goats they milked, or sheared to make their blankets and warm clothes.
Paul fitted perfectly with them. He was as silent and serious as they were. He seemed to know them all by name and they adored him. They welcomed him whenever he wandered over to visit as they worked in the gardens or milked the goats. I stayed with him as much as possible, but I always felt like an outsider looking in, whereas Paul seemed to be as much a part of the valley as the flowers or trees that grew there. He was every villager’s child. He took the place of the children that had been stolen, and everyone spoiled him. He stayed as sweet and calm. The only time I saw him cry was when I’d thrown the necklace into the lake. Now I made sure he couldn’t find it.
I sat on the beach and watched the sun come up. The water looked as flat and shiny as molten silver. A thin blanket of mist, no more than a few inches thick, floated just over the water. Swallows dipped below it, swooping to drink. They were navy blue, but in the morning light they looked black. An elephant trumpeted, but softly, as if he knew it was too early to wake up the camp.
A deer came down to the water’s edge to drink. He walked out of the forest and peered around. I sat still so he wouldn’t see me. He dipped his muzzle in the water, sipped, and then his head jerked up. His ears twitched back and forth, but he didn’t run away. Instead, he dipped his head down again to drink. He had small antlers. I wondered if he was a young deer. I knew nothing about them. In my time, all the large animals had been wiped out. Th
ey were slowly being cloned and reintroduced. The earth was gradually getting cleaned up and straightened out. But we had so far to go before attaining this pristine pureness it seemed impossible.
My heart filled with the beauty of the scene. I sighed deeply, and the deer whirled around and disappeared into the forest. Chiron woke up and yawned. I had been holding him on my lap. His little face crumpled and stretched as his mouth worked. He opened his eyes, surprisingly bright and alert, and they settled on my face.
He smiled.
I blinked in surprise, and he smiled again, a real smile, not gas. He smiled, and then his mouth opened and closed a few times. He pursed his lips into a tiny rosebud and he cooed at me. The noise pleased him and he smiled again, showing his pink gums. Smiling was fun! His smile stretched from ear to ear. It was huge. He cooed and smiled, cooed and smiled, then realized he was hungry. Before he could yell I offered him my nipple. He latched on and nursed, his little hands kneading my breast like a kitten. He paused, burped, and then stared at me again. I smiled and rained kisses on his downy head.
Brazza joined me on the beach. He loved to swim in the early morning; he was impervious to cold. He walked slowly into the water and then glided silently around, his shiny bald head the only thing showing above the surface. When he finished, he dried off with a linen towel and sat next to me. He motioned for me to give him Chiron. Chiron adored Brazza. He showed him his new smile.
I went swimming. The water was icy but calm and clear as glass. I could see the gravel and weeds growing on the bottom of the lake. I could see the silver fish and the multi-coloured rocks. I dived underwater and opened my eyes. Then I floated on my back, letting just my face, my nipples, and my toes break the surface. It was like being set in silver.
The water was so clean I could drink it. On the far shore of the lake a waterfall shattered the surface, but it was a small cascade, and the noise was muted by the morning mist. I started to get cold so I swam back to the beach where Brazza and Chiron were having a smiling contest. They both won.
Brazza was a peaceful person to have around. He was a deaf-mute and a eunuch. Alexander had received him as a gift when he first went to Egypt. I’d been horrified at first, and then pitied him. However, Brazza didn’t want my pity, and he certainly didn’t deserve any horror. He was a cheerful person, sensitive, kind, and a wonderful cook. I adored him. We sat, leaning against each other. He held Chiron, and I made faces at my baby over Brazza’s shoulder. Chiron was startled and laughed.
I wonder if all babies learn to laugh out of fright. It seems that way. Playing peek-a-boo usually starts the first laugh – seeing the mother’s face popping out from behind something. The baby’s relief and joy mingled with a scare. Chiron let out a burbling crow of laughter and he liked it so much he kept it up. He laughed and laughed, kicking his little legs in unison like a frog, gurgling at us.
Brazza couldn’t hear him, but he could feel the vibrations the laughter made. Like music. He always knew when Alexander was singing, for example. He told us it made his teeth ache. Alexander came to the beach humming softly. Even that was enough to set teeth on edge. I saw goose bumps on Brazza’s arms.
‘Shh, stop singing,’ I said to Alexander, not turning around. ‘Chiron’s finally smiling at us.’
‘He’s smiled at me lots of times already,’ Alexander boasted.
Chiron saw Alexander and his little face lit up. His mouth stretched wide and his cheeks turned pink. We hovered over him. He was our miracle that day. You would have thought that none of us had ever seen a baby smiling.
Alexander stripped and dived into the lake, splashing and swimming and kicking the water into a white, lacy froth. He looked much better. His depression lifted, he gained weight, and he was being silly again in the water.
‘Ashley, oh, Ashley! Come here, I have something to show you.’ A deeply mysterious voice called me, then a penis in guise of a periscope drifted by. A sputter, a laugh, and then, ‘Hey, Ashley, there’s an elephant under here. Look!’ More clowning around. The erection was starting to get to me. I looked askance at Brazza, who hadn’t heard a thing of course, totally involved in Chiron. I tapped him lightly on the shoulder and pointed to Alexander, or what we could see of him in the water.
Brazza looked at me while I motioned, then grinned. He nodded. He took Chiron into the tent for me; it was time for his nap.
I slid into the water quietly, wanting to surprise Alexander, but creeping up on him was like creeping up on a jaguar. I swam underwater, looking around, but didn’t see him. Where had he gone? I came up to the surface and trod water a minute, looking this way and that through the light mist, listening. He jumped on me from behind. He dunked me underwater and swam away before I could even shout. I didn’t try to catch him. He swam like a fish. I simply floated on my back, using the old ‘come hither’ technique. I felt a tickle between my legs; he was underneath me blowing a stream of bubbles. I let myself sink and looked around. He was facing me underwater, his eyes full of mischief. And desire. He loved making love in the water, as did I. Our heads broke the surface and we came together. I wrapped my legs around his hips and pulled him into me. He put his face in the hollow of my shoulder and closed his eyes. He moaned softly, thrusting gently, letting the water buoy us up.
I put my mouth next to his ear and whispered while we made love. I told him all the things I loved the most about him, all the things that excited me the most. We floated for a while. Until our bodies stopped throbbing with heat and started shaking with cold. Then we pulled apart and swam back to shore. The sand was soft. We lay on it for a long time letting the sun rise and warm us. When we were dry, we went back into the tent and had breakfast.
Together, Usse and I had developed a new tonic. It was made with honey, citrus juice, raw eggs, and wheatgerm with a dose of yeast thrown in.
That was Alexander’s new breakfast drink.
For lunch he had a beer with his meal. Then we all smoked a joint and relaxed. A few hours later Alexander got hungry and he’d devour a bowl of honeyed nuts. He was rapidly gaining weight.
I went to visit Paul after breakfast, leaving Chiron in Brazza’s care. Alexander went to see his soldiers. There were talks about a new ‘goatball’ game, and Alexander wanted to make sure nobody got seriously injured.
Sharwah greeted me at the doorway. His hair was as white and fine as cobwebs. He leaned on his cane but didn’t need it. He only pretended to. He looked old, but he moved about like a young man. His joints had the elasticity of youth. His eyes were a faded blue and his face a mass of wrinkles, but his voice was strong.
‘Good morning!’ he boomed, as I came down the path.
‘Good morning. How are you?’ I asked, bowing respectfully.
‘Well, very well. Won’t you take a walk with me? I’m going to get some honey.’
I was intrigued. I didn’t often get to see Sharwah alone. I’d been dying to ask him some more questions about the prophecy.
‘Where did you get that text?’ I asked without preamble as we walked through the orchard.
‘It has always been here. My name, Sharwah, means the one who guards the sacred parchment.’
‘Sacred? But I thought you didn’t worship gods?’
He chuckled. ‘Why should the word “sacred” mean we believe in gods? I told you, we believe that God is within everyone. The text is sacred because it must be protected. We believe in good and evil. Paul is good, but the forces he stirs are evil.’
‘Evil?’
‘Real evil. It is a new concept. We have just begun to feel its presence on this earth. It has been lying dormant for centuries, but the winds of change have woken it. There will be a great battle between good and evil. That’s what the parchment means when it speaks of the two kingdoms. Not east and west, not north and south, but good and evil. For nine centuries will they fight, and then there will be three centuries of light and three of darkness, alternating, until the end of time. We believe the end will come when one side or anoth
er finally triumphs.’
I did some calculating in my head. In nine hundred years it would be roughly the year 600 AD. The fighting would stop then? Then three centuries of light? Until the year 900 AD? Then three of darkness. Let’s see, dark until 1100 AD. Light starting, then dark in … I frowned, losing track.
Sharwah was watching me with a smile. ‘Figure it all out?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘And how does Paul fit into this?’
‘I have no idea.’ He shrugged. ‘Ah, here are the beehives. Don’t make any sudden moves and you shouldn’t get stung.’
I only got stung twice. Not that I really minded. I wasn’t allergic to bees and I loved honey. I helped take the honeycombs out of the hives and put them in the earthenware jar Sharwah carried. The bees swarmed around us, buzzing, well, like bees, I guess. I’d never done anything like this before and thought it was great fun. I helped Sharwah put the honey away, and we walked back to his house. I sucked on my stings and on a small piece of honeycomb. I wanted to try and make a beeswax candle; mostly there were only oil lamps. I hadn’t seen any candles.
Sharwah touched my arm lightly. ‘Here we are, and look, Paul is waiting for us. He loves honey.’
‘Don’t all children?’ I opened my arms and Paul ran to me. His cheeks were smooth and warm, welcoming my kisses. His blue eyes danced. I held him tightly. How could I ever leave him?
It took all my strength not to turn back. Paul sat on Sharwah’s shoulders and waved, his face wreathed in smiles. His hair was a bright, curly halo. I watched him as long as I could. He never stopped smiling. Never once did his little face reflect the pain I felt. He held on to Maia’s hand, he perched on the old man’s shoulders, and the sun glinted on his small, white teeth. He was happy staying in the beautiful valley.
Son of the Moon Page 6
