Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  Myrina looked at her, alarmed.

  Kora shook her head, chuckling a little. “It is nothing fearful, for I have noticed this one missing before and seen that she turns up safe and cheerful in the morning.”

  Myrina frowned. Why was she the last to notice such a thing? She looked about her, checking first Tamsin and Phoebe, then Fara. Where was Fara?

  Suddenly Myrina understood. Of late she had noticed that Fara was quieter than ever, but she’d seen with relief that the girl no longer watched the young men with calves’ eyes, giggling and gossiping about them after they’d gone. How could she have been so stupid not to realize what had happened? Fara didn’t need to giggle at the boys when they came with their gifts because something much more real and exciting was happening for her.

  She turned to Kora, troubled. “She’s meeting them in secret! I should have realized. How long have you known?”

  Kora shrugged. Akasya leaned forward and touched Myrina’s shoulder. “I knew this would happen. Once they started bringing gifts and we accepted them, it was bound to happen sooner or later. We should have traveled on, if we didn’t want it.”

  “Yes, we should have known. We’ve made a big mistake . . . we know nothing about them!”

  Kora laughed. “We know that they have fed and clothed us.”

  “That is true.” Myrina forced herself to be just, but her heart was beating fast and her chest felt suddenly tight and uncomfortable. “But . . . to have a Moon Rider creeping away from her friends like that. Where is Fara’s loyalty?” She clenched her fist, anger shooting up to the surface. How could Kora be so tolerant of this? “Has Fara forgotten that they killed her dearest friend?” she cried. “Have you all forgotten Leti?”

  Her raised voice was bringing sleepy women from their tents, a look of concern in their eyes.

  Coronilla frowned and nudged her arm. “Don’t be so angry, Snake Lady! We just thought that you should know. I shall be wishing I’d never told you. Look at it this way—perhaps Leti’s death was a terrible mistake. Those young men have tried hard since then to make it up to us. They cannot speak our tongue to beg forgiveness, but every day their actions seem to beg forgiveness for them.”

  Myrina knew that this was reasonable, but deep inside her anger grew. She even seemed to be at odds with Coronilla, the Moon Riders’ most devoted supporter. She was angry that all the others seemed to know what was going on but not her. This giving and taking of gifts was draining away their power and freedom. Perhaps they should have made a fight of it after all.

  She spat out her concern. “I can’t believe that you are gone so soft, Coronilla! Have we struggled so hard to free ourselves from Neoptolemus, only to be soothed and cajoled into another kind of slavery?” She leaped to her feet. “We must leave at once!”

  “What?” Kora was angry now; she got up, too, and stood her ground, hands on hips. “You must be mad! We have all we need here and just as the Bitter Months begin you say we leave! Who knows where we can find a safe and sheltered place in that freezing wilderness out there?” She waved her arm toward the north.

  Phoebe emerged from her tent, tousled and resentful; she had overheard what was being said. “I like it here, Snake Lady,” she said.

  Tamsin appeared behind her, sleepy and anxious at the sound of argument. “Snake Mother?” she murmured.

  Coronilla frowned. “There is no need for all this fuss,” she said. “Perhaps we should try to speak to the men!”

  Myrina’s mind was racing—why was she so frightened by this suggestion?

  Kora was in full flow. “If we pack up now and move on, we may not survive. This time I cannot understand you, Snake Lady, and I for one will not be following you. I stay here close to the sea!”

  “Well, I think we should have gone long ago!” Akasya said.

  Myrina was not sure whether that was support or challenge.

  “Snake Mother!” Tamsin cried, distressed.

  “Go back and sleep!” Myrina told her daughter sharply.

  “I like the boys,” Phoebe insisted.

  Myrina looked up. “You have not been sneaking off to meet them?” she asked.

  “No, I have not!” Phoebe spat back at her.

  Kora wagged a finger at Myrina. “Our girls have been given many useful gifts, but a young man’s admiration is also a gift and one that brings joy. You should know that and understand. You have experienced such joy; it brought you Tamsin.”

  It was too much. “How dare you speak of that unbidden!”

  The Snake Lady leaped to her feet and marched off down to the water, leaving her friends looking alarmed, while many of the other women came out to join them, whispering in worried voices.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fara

  DOWN BY THE waterside Myrina whistled up Big Chief who, though he had been resting, came to her willingly, just snorting a little and shaking the sleep from his long sand-colored mane. Did his new friend really wish to go riding in the dark? His fine animal senses quickly told him that she was upset and his nose might sting again if he didn’t obey.

  Myrina leaped onto his back and rode away from the camp in the moonlight, her mind buzzing with troubling questions. It seemed that there were no satisfactory answers, and she was desperate to get away from the others, to have a good think.

  Once they’d left the camp behind, she allowed the horse to wander where he willed; she was too exhausted to direct him. Big Chief slowed and stopped in the shelter of a rock that gave good protection from the cold wind. Myrina heaved a huge sigh and sat there on his back, her eyelids drooping. She needed this distance and quietness. Never had her friends argued with her so determinedly. Yes, they often spoke up honestly and gave their opinion, but never had they challenged her wisdom like this.

  Myrina felt weary to the bone; she longed for peace. A hard, bitter lump seemed to be growing in her throat. It was a choking lump of misery that she knew could only be shifted by a great outpouring of tears. But Myrina did not weep for herself these days. Quiet anger had spurred her on through this hard struggle; she could not afford the luxury of self-pity.

  She lifted her head and gazed across the bleak landscape, suddenly realizing how much she missed the lush green valleys of the Mazagardi traveling lands. She longed for the sight of the spring flowers that grew on the lower slopes of Mount Ida, and even for the sea of marsh-watered fennel stalks that reared their heads across the plain of Troy.

  As Myrina sat stock-still on Big Chief’s back, a slight movement in the bushes to her right caught her eye. Instantly alert, she instinctively reached for her bow; if it was a deer or a wild boar she must take her chance to shoot it. They still needed every bit of meat they could find, and up on the Big Chief’s back she had a fine vantage point.

  As she raised her bow and narrowed her eyes to take aim, she gasped, catching a gleam of gold. It was the glitter of a golden wristband. She slowly lowered her weapon, understanding with a rush of irritation that it must be one of the young horsemen. She could see the dark shape of his shoulders and thought that it must be the tall one that Fara admired. Then she saw that he was not alone—Fara was with him.

  Myrina slipped down from Big Chief’s back and crept forward, keeping herself well covered by the rocks and undergrowth. She held her breath, watching to see what they were about. There was no mistaking it: the young man’s companion was Fara; her long fair hair blew in the breeze, touched with silver in the moonlight.

  The two young people seemed to be sitting side by side in the darkness, not touching, though their faces were close. Then slowly, as Myrina watched, Fara held up her hand, the palm flat and open. The young man hesitantly raised his own hand, his thick wristband gleaming again; he pressed it against the girl’s palm.

  “Hand,” Fara said, her voice firm and clear.

  “Ha-and.” The young man tried to copy her, but his sounds came out awkwardly. Then suddenly his voice took on a clear, confident tone as he spoke again. “Dala.”

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p; “Dala.” Fara repeated the word with ease.

  Myrina watched and listened.

  “Turxu.” The young man pulled his hand away to tap his own chest.

  “Turxu,” Fara repeated, stretching her hand out to touch him. Then she tapped her own chest and spoke her name. “Fara.”

  The young man touched her hair and Myrina could see that his fingers trembled. “Fa-ara.” His voice shook, too. Then he murmured, “Leipo!”

  Fara’s voice was warm with amusement. “No—Fara!” she corrected.

  “Fara, leipo,” he insisted.

  “Very well . . . Fara leipo,” she said. They sat together in silence.

  As she watched and waited, Myrina’s anger fled. Why had she been so furious? She recognized the word for hand that the boy had used. It was similar to a tongue that she had heard long ago among the brave Scythian warriors who had gone like her and Penthesilea to defend the city of Troy. She recognized the word leipo, too—it meant “beloved.” It was a respectful word that a Scythian warrior might use for his god, his child, or his wife.

  She backed away quietly and returned to Big Chief. There was something very private and intimate in those simple gestures of trust and she’d suddenly felt that she was intruding.

  “Fool!” she muttered to herself. “What have you come to? Spying on young lovers!”

  The images that had filled her mind when she first heard of Fara’s absences were lurid and earthy compared to the gentle, trusting exchange she had witnessed. Quietly she led Big Chief away, her own thoughts flying back to a time long ago when she’d made her own first awkward admissions of love to Tamsin’s father.

  Tomi was a courageous young Mazagardi who’d been killed as the Moon Riders escaped from the stricken city of Troy. He’d given up his life to see Myrina and her friends safely away. Throughout her childhood she’d traveled with her tribe from place to place, Tomi always at her side. They’d learned to ride together, learned to shoot together, and in the evenings by the campfire she’d leaned against his strong, muscular back for warmth. There in the darkness she began to understand the bitter anger that had suddenly blazed out at her friends. She longed desperately for Tomi’s strong back to lean on now.

  How could she be angry with Fara? The truth was, the young men who brought them gifts reminded her of Tomi and his friends and therein lay the hurt and pain.

  Big Chief stopped by a clump of well-watered grass. She let him drop his head to crop at it, while loneliness swept over her. She remembered the last time she’d heard Tomi’s voice. “Ride!” he’d shouted. “Ride for your lives!”

  She hadn’t looked back—she’d done as he said and led the slave women to freedom. Since then she had been so busy trying to keep everyone safe, when had she truly grieved for Tomi? Now, with raw, heart-wrenching pain, she felt his loss again. She knew just how lonely she’d been for that special kind of companionship. It had been all too brief; their marriage had only lasted for a few days.

  “It wasn’t fair,” she cried out loud. A great rush of grief and pain made her fall to her knees and crouch there on the dark hillside, sobbing wildly.

  Big Chief stopped feeding for a moment and whickered with concern, but as her weeping began to subside he returned to his search for grass.

  As she dried her eyes she saw a glint of water close by. “Iphigenia,” she murmured, “I wish that you were here with me.”

  She moved toward the moonlit pool and the bright reflection of the moon. It would be difficult in this cold, rocky place to find the ease of body and mind that she would need to let her eyes gaze through and beyond the water’s inky blackness.

  “I need you, dear friend,” she whispered, and at last her shoulders eased and her eyelids drooped. Her breathing slowed and as she looked through the darkness, she saw that there were tiny pinpricks of light; reflections of the stars shimmering in the water’s black gleam.

  “Iphigenia,” she whispered. Then the tiny lights seemed to move about the dark surface and gather together, forming strange, blurry shapes that suddenly clarified into something recognizable. “Iphigenia—dear friend!”

  She spoke her name and she was there. Deep in the dark silver depths of the pool she saw the shape of the Achaean princess. Iphigenia’s long dark hair was loose and she wore a silver crown above her brow. Servants bowed low before her, offering her fruits on a silver plate.

  “Princess!” Myrina murmured. “You are a princess once again!”

  She watched her friend for a few moments, cheered to see her well and cared for. Then the cold and weariness cut through her vision and brought her back to the dark, grassy hills and Big Chief waiting patiently for her.

  She gave a great sigh of relief. This place was good—she would come up here again when she needed a bit of peace. Why was she making a hard life even more difficult? She must think carefully and kindly about the future of the young women in her care. She had lost much, but they still had their lives to live.

  The camp was quiet when she returned, apart from the movement of the animals and the distant snorting of resting horses down by the stream. Two lookouts saluted her as she passed them, but they said nothing. Then Myrina saw that her closest friends still sat together, shoulders hunched and tense, talking quietly. They turned at the sound of Big Chief’s hooves and got up.

  Myrina slid down from the horse’s back and sent him to join his many wives with a gentle slap on his hindquarters. She went straight to the Moon Riders with her arms open wide; they cried out with joy and hugged her tightly in turn.

  “I could not sleep.” Kora’s voice was warm with affection. “I am so sorry—I should never have said what I did.”

  “No.” Myrina smiled. “You were right, but I could not see it. You have spoken the truth, though it hurt; sometimes that is what a true friend has to do. Where is Tamsin?”

  “Tamsin is fast asleep; Phoebe settled her down,” Akasya told her.

  Myrina took Coronilla by the arm. “I have been remembering things that I should never have forgotten. Tomorrow we will take council and all the women shall have their say and everyone will be listened to.”

  “Well done, Snake Lady!” Coronilla said.

  They all went to their beds and slept a deep, peaceful sleep that healed their hurts and restored their energy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The River People

  AS DAWN LIGHT crept in through the opening of her tent, Myrina stirred and woke with a sense of purpose. For a moment she wondered why, then she remembered what had happened last night. Her heart was heavy for a moment as she remembered the argument; but then as she rose and stretched, she recognized that she felt more lighthearted than she had for a long, long time.

  She stooped to tickle Tamsin’s nose, which was the only part of her daughter that stuck out of a warm felt blanket bag, another gift from strangers. “They will be strangers no longer,” she whispered. “Come on, Little Lizard. Rise and greet the sun—today is a new day and there is much to be done.”

  Tamsin emerged from the cozy wrappings, instantly awake like a cat, a wide smile on her face. “You sound happy, Snake Mother. Last night you bared your teeth so that I feared you were going to eat fat Kora!”

  “I am happy today,” Myrina said. “And because of that I will only eat you!” She stooped and kissed her daughter as she slipped giggling from her arms.

  Phoebe pushed back her cover. “Are we friends?” she asked sleepily.

  “Of course we are, Young Tiger! We are always friends!” Myrina reached out and kissed her, too.

  The Moon Riders danced to greet the sun, and as they danced Myrina could sense that a ripple of excitement was passing among their ranks. Last night’s arguments had troubled them all, but Myrina and her friends’ cheerful smiles told them that some agreement had been reached. A meeting was called as soon as they’d eaten and been down to see their horses—whatever other troubles they might have, the close bond between horse and rider must not be lost.

 
Myrina opened the meeting by announcing that she was aware that a certain Moon Rider was secretly meeting one of the horsemen. She was pleased at the bold way in which Fara rose at once to her feet, ready to argue her case and openly admit that it was she. But when Nessa and Donna also stood up, then Agnis and Molla joined them, she could not help but whistle under her breath. “How little I have seen,” she murmured.

  Kora could barely contain herself as she stifled a guffaw. Myrina was annoyed for a moment and the thought came to her that this was a Moon Riders’ meeting and she’d be well within her rights to tell Kora to leave. However, her sense of justice soon quashed the unworthy thought and a wicked idea crept into her mind and made her smile. She would set Kora right!

  “Well,” she murmured, as she looked from one guilty face to another.

  “I did not tell you,” Fara explained, “for I feared that you’d see me as disloyal. But I have wished to speak up about it for a long time. I meet one of them and we try to talk together. I cannot understand much of what he says, but I learn fast and I believe these men wish us well!”

  Molla backed her up. “We take their gifts,” she insisted. “They are fine riders and warriors. They could have warred with us and made our lives a misery, but they have taken careful note of what we need and been generous. Why shouldn’t we be friends with them?”

  “Of course we should!” Kora folded her arms in her usual determined pose.

  “This is a Moon Riders’ meeting.” Myrina was grim faced and spoke firmly. “Only Moon Riders may speak!”

  Kora stared at her with disbelief and anger. She rose to her feet, her face flushed, ready to do battle. Everyone else gasped in shocked silence.

  Myrina could not hold back her smile any longer. “Therefore,” she went on quickly, winking at Coronilla, “my first suggestion is that Kora the fisherwoman be fully instated as an honored Moon Rider.”

  There were many smiles and sighs and laughter, as Kora’s outraged expression changed to one of astonishment and then delight. “You’ve taken the wind right out of my sails,” she murmured.