Kuspada seemed satisfied with that and bowed low before her, then went to spring lightly onto his horse. Myrina watched him ride away—almost like a Mazagardi warrior, she thought.
After the men had gone, the Moon Riders joined together to do the gentle, soothing moon dance. They honored the silver disk that lit the night sky and went calm and sleepy to their beds, but they were up before sunrise, ready to perform the important sun-welcoming dance that warmed their muscles and set their minds busy for the day ahead.
Myrina gathered her friends together, telling them to wrap up well and prepare for a short journey. They obeyed eagerly and went to seek out their horses.
“I’m coming, too,” Kora insisted. “Now that I’m a true warrior priestess, I can climb up onto your stallion’s back and ride along with you.”
“No.” Myrina shook her head.
Kora folded her arms and dug her heels stubbornly into the earth.
Myrina smiled and sighed. “You must stay here and keep the camp safe for me. I think we can trust these men, but just in case, there must be somebody to stay here who can make sensible decisions and take the lead.”
“Me?” Kora was surprised and pleased.
“Yes. I leave Tamsin and Phoebe in your care. We expect to return after one night, but just in case . . .”
Kora nodded her head, then looked up and saw the Sinta men approaching again, Kuspada at their head. “Here’s your man,” she said.
“Not my man,” Myrina said.
“Is he not?” Kora smiled knowingly. “I would not say no to him!”
Kuspada led them off to the west, past the camp at Eagle Rocks. Myrina was impressed to see that the young men had made a neat and cozy arrangement of tents. Rugs were hanging out to air and dry in the morning sun.
“Your men keep themselves clean and comfortable,” she approved. “We call this Eagle Rocks, for they seem to us to take the shape of the bird.”
Kuspada nodded. “You women would do better to camp here beside us,” he told her. “We call this place Levas Rocks, which to us means ‘sheltering rocks.’ Your eagle’s half-furled wings keep away the bitter north wind.”
She was a little disconcerted at the suggestion, but then she saw what he meant and understood. The warm south-facing rocks that the men had backed themselves up against made a much warmer winter base than the exposed spot by the river that they had chosen. Perhaps they did have much to learn from the River People, who had spent many winters in this alien climate.
“What name did you choose for your fine horse?” Myrina asked, admiring the blue-black stallion.
“Dorag,” he told her. “In our language it means Thunderer. He serves me well.”
“A good name,” she affirmed. “Last night you called me by a name that is strange to me.”
He smiled. “Argimpasa.” He spoke the word with reverence, as though it were full of magic.
“Who is this Argimpasa?” Myrina asked.
“She is the mother of all Sintas,” he said. “More than that, she is the mother of all the Scythian tribes.”
“Aah!” Myrina began to understand. “Perhaps she is like our goddess Maa! The mother of all things alive on this earth.”
He nodded his head. “It is our belief that Argimpasa was married to Targitos, the sky god; these two were the parents of the Scythian tribes. Once we were all one family.” He sighed. “Now, sadly, we often war with each other!”
Myrina nodded. It was a familiar story.
Then Kuspada smiled as though she might think him foolish. “The story that every young Scythian knows is that Argimpasa comes from the sky, standing on the back of a golden stallion, so you see . . .”
“Aah!” Myrina smiled. “I am honored that my performance made you think of such a wonderful goddess.”
Kuspada laughed and shook his head. “Not only did you look like Argimpasa standing on a stallion, but you see, our goddess is half woman, half snake.” He shrugged his shoulders, still amused. “Just for a moment I thought I had seen the goddess herself.”
They smiled at each other with warmth and understanding and rode on over dry grassland that stretched for miles and miles. Though they saw gazelles and antelopes in the distance they ignored the chance to hunt, intent on the main purpose of their journey. At last, as the sun reached its zenith, they saw ahead of them a sprawling cluster of tents made of thick, warm felt, with spirals of smoke rising up from holes in the roofs. Corrals of healthy sheep and horses surrounded the encampment. As they approached, a small group of children ran out to meet them. They surrounded them, waving and shouting with wild excitement. “Aruna! Aruna!”
“What is it that they shout?” Fara asked.
Myrina looked puzzled. “I think the word they use is “mothers”! They are calling us mothers!”
“No, no!” Coronilla laughed. “It must be their word for women.”
Kuspada said nothing and Myrina thought that he seemed a little uneasy once again. Her hand touched the feathered flights of her arrows, which she carried in a quiver strapped to her thigh. Was her instinct to trust him true? Her hand moved on to check the bow that she’d slung across her shoulder.
The children seemed wild with delight to have visitors, and soon some older men and a few women came out from the tents, making beckoning signs of welcome with their hands. A girl came running out of her tent shouting wildly, reaching up to Kuspada.
“Zimapo!” he called her as he hauled her up to sit in front of him on Dorag’s back. He hugged her tightly.
Myrina saw at once that she was his daughter. For a moment she found herself struggling with an unexpected sense of disappointment. Of course a man of his age and standing would have a daughter, and of course that meant he would have a wife. Why should that surprise or bother her? Perhaps Kora’s earthy suggestion that he might admire her had somehow sunk unbidden into her mind. She pushed such thoughts away, feeling foolish again, and swung down from Big Chief to greet Kuspada’s daughter with a friendly hand salute.
Another very confident young woman came over to greet them, a baby in her arms and a toddler at her skirts. “This is Tabi,” Kuspada introduced her.
Myrina wondered if Tabi was his wife, but he did not say that she was.
The Moon Riders were invited to sit down and offered some warming herb tea. The Sinta women greeted them with huge smiles, but didn’t sit down to join them until all the guests were served.
Zimapo and Tabi marched about giving orders. Turxu brought a very old woman out from one of the tents; she greeted them all with smiles and much nodding of her head, seeming especially delighted with Fara. Kuspada introduced her as Turxu’s grandmother Sere, the Gray One. Myrina thought she heard the young Sinta warrior use the Scythian word for wife.
Soon they were being fed with freshly roasted wild boar, stuffed with delicious herbs. They could not fault the hospitality, but Myrina was not the only Moon Rider who turned her head this way and that to see if there were other women hiding shyly in the tents.
After they had eaten and sipped at the flask of fermented mare’s milk that was passed around, at last Myrina got up her courage.
“We would like to meet the other women!”
There was an awkward moment as the Sinta men fell silent, understanding enough to know what she asked.
Kuspada paused for a moment and then he sighed. He looked up at the other men, as though asking them a question, and they nodded.
“It is time,” he said, turning to face Myrina and her friends. “Time that I told you of the great sorrow that has cursed our tribe.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Shame of the Sinta Warriors
TURXU CAME TO sit down in the fire-lit circle. Quietness and attention spread through all those present, and Kuspada and his daughter exchanged a look of deep sadness.
Myrina saw it and suddenly her heart was very heavy; she knew that she would not like what she was about to hear. But the Moon Riders were no strangers to sorrow, and if
they were to live beside these unhappy, gold-decked strangers they must try to understand what it was that troubled them so. She regretted the pain, but they must know the truth.
“Our children called you ‘mothers,’” Kuspada began. “That is because they long to have mothers. You cannot meet the other wives, for they were stolen away and many of them have gone up into the sky to live with Argimpasa.”
Myrina looked around at the sad faces of the few women who were left to them. The men looked down at the ground, their faces miserable and full of shame.
The Moon Riders looked at one another uneasily and waited. “What happened?” Coronilla asked.
Kuspada shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “They are lost through our own stupidity!” His voice was low, so that they struggled to hear him clearly. “I will tell you, but the telling will not come easily, for it is great shame to us. Great shame and sorrow.”
“We will try to listen patiently,” Myrina assured him.
“We remember it as the Bitter Winter.” Kuspada spoke with reluctance, as though each word were dragged from his throat. “It was the winter that my daughter Zimapo was born. All through the summer we men, who call ourselves the gold smelters, had been away from the home camp seeking gold in the mountains to the east. We left the women and children and the old men behind in the northern pastures to watch over the sheep, for the grass grows green and lush up there in the summertime. This is how we Sinta live— How we used to live,” he corrected himself. He stopped for a moment, his face lined with sorrow.
Coronilla and Akasya listened with concern, for they knew enough of the Luvvian language to understand most of his words. The Sinta women and men sat in silence, their faces sad even though they did not know the language in which the blacksmith spoke to their visitors; they knew the story only too well.
“Another group of Sinta men left the home tents and traveled northward,” Kuspada continued. “They were the horse ropers who went seeking out herds of wild horses. As winter approached we should all have returned to move the camp south to this sheltered place, but we had found gold of a quality and quantity that we had never before seen. Each day we promised ourselves that we would return, but then we would swear that one more day would make no difference; we were hauling out from the mountainside more gold than we had ever seen.”
The faces of the listening women were heavy with sadness, and many quietly wiped away a tear.
Myrina tried to give sympathy. “I can see that it must have been a great temptation for you,” she said. “You must have thought that you were making your tribe very rich!”
Kuspada nodded. “We have bitterly regretted it ever since. You see, we thought that the horse ropers would have returned to the home camp, but their hunt for new steeds had taken them farther north than usual.
“I told you that the Scythian tribes were once all one family, but some of the tribes have become our enemies. That summer, unknown to us, the Hullalli tribe who live up on the plains to the northwest had sent raiding parties south, stealing our women and our herds.”
“Aah! We have suffered from Achaean raiding gangs!” Coronilla growled in sympathy. “Many of us Moon Riders have lost our families like this!”
Kuspada nodded, glad of this rough understanding. “When the onset of severe weather brought us gold smelters to our senses,” he continued, “we did at last set out to return, laden as never before, but snow fell and thick ice set in, so that our horses could not move. We had no choice but to make camp and stay where we were, far from our wives and little ones. There on the slopes of the mountains we struggled through the harshest winter we have ever known, living meagerly on the beasts that we managed to kill, telling ourselves that at least the horse ropers would have got back to look after the tribe.”
The Moon Riders’ faces were grim. They knew what was coming.
Kuspada gave a great sigh, heavy with misery and guilt. “When at last the thaw came,” he told them, “we struggled back, our sleds piled high with the precious gold, to find a terrible sight of desolation. The horse ropers had been caught in the ice, just as we had. Many of the old people had died of cold and starvation, having lost all the sheep and goats; and worst of all, our wives had been stolen away by the Hullalli or had died in the struggle. My brave wife, Aplia, was one of them.”
Tears filled Myrina’s eyes and she wondered if she should stop Kuspada, for it was clear that his words gave great pain. But he seemed determined to go on; the story had to be told, however terrible. They must listen with patience, for nothing in the telling should be rushed.
Kuspada struggled with his feelings for a moment, but then he swallowed hard and went on. “We arrived home dripping with gold, rich beyond our dreams, but we’d lost all that we truly held dear, sacrificed it to gold . . . and greed.”
Myrina had seen a great deal of sorrow in her life, but she understood that the terrible guilt of the Sinta warriors must be beyond anything.
Kuspada pointed out the young woman who’d come boldly to greet them; she sat listening quietly with two children on her lap, another at her feet. “Tabi was a young girl of twelve winters and she turned huntress, with her little group of warriors. She and her young team did their best to take the place of the men and they did well. We honor her greatly. Sere looked after Zimapo and the other motherless children and fed them, denying herself so that she almost died; now all the children call her grandmother. So when you ask to see our wives . . .” Kuspada broke down at last and it seemed he couldn’t go on.
“We are truly sorry for you,” Myrina told him.
He sighed. “We have gold to buy whatever we need. We can buy sheep and goats and have captured many horses, but . . . we do not have many wives. Since the Bitter Winter we older men rarely travel far from the home tents; only the young warriors go off to hunt. That is how our young men first saw you when you struggled ashore and claimed the herd by the river. They made camp by the sheltering rocks and kept watch on you.”
Myrina quickly perceived that the discovery of a camp full of young women must hold great significance for these lonely warriors. “We understand now,” she said. “That is why the children called us ‘mothers.’”
Kuspada nodded. “Those children are the ones that Sere saved; they long for new mothers. I will tell the truth, though I am shamed by it. When we came to understand that you were not men but women, our first wild thought was to raid your camp and snatch away as many young women as we could. But Turxu pointed out that you were fierce and deadly warriors; such a raid might well bring death to us all. So we decided to wait and watch and try a gentler way. We would make sure that you didn’t die for want of food or warmth and hope that in time you would come to see us as friends. Our young men need wives—we cannot deny it. No women would be more precious and treasured than those who came to join the Sinta tribe; we would look to their every need and never, never leave them alone again.”
Tabi suddenly spoke up in the Scythian tongue, holding both her hands out to Myrina in a pleading gesture. Myrina understood that she was begging the Moon Riders to join them and take the place of the lost Sinta wives.
Akasya and Coronilla both looked up with concern, raising their eyebrows and shaking their heads.
“We cannot offer our young women against their will.” Coronilla was firm about that.
Akasya shrugged. “To be treasured and spoiled is not the way of Moon Riders!” Having spent many years as a slave in Troy she was often fearful that she’d lose her freedom again.
Myrina turned to Kuspada, choosing her words carefully. “We are a very different people and we have different ways. We Moon Riders choose ourselves a husband; nobody may wed a Moon Rider against her will.”
Kuspada’s face immediately clouded over with disappointment, so that Myrina hastened to say more. “We are full of sorrow for your terrible loss and grateful to you beyond words for the help that you have given us. Between the Sinta people and the Moon Riders there shall always be friendship.”
The blacksmith looked up with renewed interest and began translating her words, so that the listening Sintas could understand.
“We came to these shores seeking new land and safety,” Myrina went on, “for we have suffered at the hands of raiders and were taken into captivity. We are grateful that you did not attack us, as you had every right to do. You decided to wait and watch; that was most honorable. Let us continue to wait and watch. We all fear the winter that is coming soon, so let us live side by side and help each other in every way we can; then, in the Month of New Leaves, each Moon Rider will make up her own mind. Each woman shall choose for herself—until then, we shall be friends.”
“Well said, Snake Lady!” Coronilla agreed. “Buy us time! We do not want to fight with them.”
Kuspada respectfully rose to his feet, nodding his head at Myrina’s answer and holding out the palm of his hand to her. “That is more than fair,” he said. “Will you Moon Riders move your camp and set up your tents beside the sheltering rocks? You will be warmer there and you will get to know us better.”
“Yes,” Myrina agreed. Since she had seen the camp beneath Eagle Rocks, something of the kind had been in her own mind.
Kuspada repeated their agreement in Scythian to the listening Sinta people, and though their reaction was not one of wild joy, there was much thoughtful nodding and acceptance.
Tabi got up, the youngest child in her arms, and held out her palm to Myrina. “This is right,” she agreed, smiling.
“Thank you.” Myrina smiled back: she could see that this brave young woman would have made a fine Moon Rider.
Tabi spoke to Kuspada in the Scythian language—her words came out so fast and insistently that Myrina could not follow them, but she was pleased when Kuspada turned to her to explain. “Tabi insists that all our women and children move their camp to Levas Rocks. There we may all live side by side and keep each other warm and safe.”
Voyage of the Snake Lady Page 10
