Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  “This is payment,” Myrina added hurriedly.

  “Payment?” Katya looked up with interest.

  “Yes—payment. Today you will act as our guide. You know the city and we do not; we will be lost without you. This is payment for a day’s work.”

  Katya took the tunic and slipped it over her head. She smoothed the sleeves down over her shoulders and arms, sighing with pleasure at the comfort that the fine woven fabric brought. She bent to rip away her old rags from underneath it.

  Tamsin grinned at her. “You look like a Moon Rider now,” she said.

  Katya shook her head, puzzled. “Moon Rider . . . what is that?”

  There was a moment of tense silence as Tamsin realized that she should not have betrayed their true identity.

  But Phoebe jumped in quickly to put things right. “Dancing priestesses,” she said. “Tamsin and I once saw them long ago and we have copied them ever since.”

  “This is not what a priestess of Tauris would wear.” Katya hesitated, frowning; then her face softened again. “But it is very comfortable,” she assured them.

  The moment of tension had passed and Myrina was relieved. Though there were now few coins left in Kuspada’s purse, she promised herself that as soon as she sold one of the mares she would make Katya a present of a new gown—and it would be a gown worthy of a Taurian priestess.

  They set off for the city, Katya taking her work as a guide seriously, keeping up an informative flow of conversation. Now that she had found listeners, it seemed that the young outcast could not stop talking. Myrina was soon grateful for the skill with which the girl directed them through the outskirts and into the maze of busy streets. Some people looked at Katya with a touch of suspicion, as though unsure whether they recognized her or not.

  The palace of King Thoas was very grand, situated halfway down the sloping hillside and facing the sea. Many smaller palaces surrounded it, and Katya could relate the names of all the occupants, many of whom were wives to the king.

  “So if Hepsuash were to agree to marry him, she would not be his only wife?” Myrina mused.

  Katya’s frown returned. “Of course not.” She seemed surprised at the very idea. “But the fool wishes to make Hepsuash his chief wife—she would be his queen and still she refuses.”

  From the palace gates they could look up along the winding streets to see the strange building they had passed the day before, perched on the highest rock, far above the city. None of them dared to ask the question, but Katya saw that their eyes were drawn to it.

  “That is the temple of Artemis,” she told them, her voice suddenly soft and wistful. “It is— it was where we lived—the only home I have known.”

  They shaded their eyes, gazing up at the lofty temple.

  Phoebe touched Katya’s arm. “It’s a beautiful home,” she said kindly.

  “If I lived up there,” Tamsin said, “I’d dream I was an eagle, swooping down from my nest to fly across the sea.”

  Katya looked at her with sharp approval. “You understand well,” she said. “That is what happens to sacrificial victims. The priestess takes them up to the very top of the tower, and if they are brave and worthy they fling themselves from it, then—just for a moment—they swoop like an eagle.”

  Tamsin’s smile fled. “You mean . . . they swoop down and then . . . ?”

  “Oh yes,” Katya answered, as though it were only to be expected. “They swoop down and then they plop into the sea.”

  Myrina put a reassuring hand on Tamsin’s shoulder.

  “They . . . drown?” Tamsin’s face had turned white.

  “Of course—they are a sacrifice! If they have died bravely, their spirits fly at once to Artemis’s hunting ground up in the sky and live there happily with the goddess forever, while their bodies feed the fish.”

  “But . . . what if they do not wish to throw themselves over the edge?” Tamsin was aware of her mother’s warning, but was so troubled by Katya’s words that she had to know the answer.

  “Then the priestess must push them—that is her job! Though it seems that flower-faced Hepsuash has little stomach for it!”

  “So . . . your . . . grandmother . . . ?”

  Myrina slid her hand down Tamsin’s arm and squeezed her hand tightly. Tamsin heeded the warning and swallowed her question, falling quiet.

  People had begun to emerge from their houses dressed in their best clothes; they crowded the streets, baskets full of rose petals in their hands. “Tell us”—Myrina wanted to find out as much as she could—“where will the procession start from and where will it go to?”

  “It starts from the palace, then they move slowly up the hill, winding in and out of the pathways until they reach the temple.”

  “Then what . . . ?” Tamsin’s eyes were wide with fear. “Will they leap . . . ?”

  Katya shrugged, an impatient glint in her eyes. “No, no, not today. For a sacrifice to be judged worthy by the goddess, those who are offered must undergo preparation. Today Hepsuash will come out of the temple to meet them and take them inside to begin the preparation.”

  Tamsin could no longer hold back and her voice trembled with accusation as she asked the question that troubled her so much. “Has your grandmother pushed people off that tower?”

  Myrina held her breath, fearful that this would make the girl angry again. But Katya only looked puzzled for a moment, then answered with fierce certainty. “Of course. It was Nonya’s job. She should be here to do it now!”

  “How long does it take—this preparation of the sacrifices?” Myrina asked quickly.

  Katya answered with an irritated sigh. “Until the full moon,” she replied. “Don’t all sacrifices take place on the night of the full moon?”

  Myrina saw that they must ask no more, but the very words “full moon” brought back to her the frightening days and nights in Aulis, before the intended sacrifice of the young Iphigenia. Katya was right about that—it was always the full moon, and the memory of it made her tremble, fierce Snake Lady though she was. How then must Iphigenia be feeling? And to be expected to actually push unwilling victims from a tower! Iphigenia would not willingly crush a beetle beneath her foot.

  “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

  There was a flurry of anticipation all around them; horns sounded and the palace gates were opened.

  Myrina thrust away the dark feelings of despair that suddenly threatened to engulf her, forcing herself to be practical. Iphigenia had been rescued before—well, now it must be done again. She was the Snake Lady; she must think hard and draw on the craftiness that had always been her strength. At least this time it didn’t seem to be Iphigenia’s life that hung in the balance; only her freedom—but then to a Moon Rider, freedom was life! Maybe she would see her friend today and then at least she could be absolutely sure that it was the daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra whom the Taurians had imprisoned in the lofty temple on the rock.

  All at once there was a small rush of expectation in the crowd.

  “The king, the king!”

  Loud horns sounded again as King Thoas rode out of the palace gates on a fine black stallion, surrounded by heavily armed guards. He was still young, with a thick dark beard and a thin, rather somber face. Myrina recognized him as the man she’d seen in her vision. His clothes were rich with cloth of gold, and a heavy diadem crowned his brow. His horse’s bridle was decorated with heavy golden bulls, and his hands and arms dripped with jewelry.

  The people cheered, but Myrina sensed a dutiful reticence in the applause. The king did not lift his hand to wave or respond with even a nod; he seemed unaware of the crowd that surrounded him.

  “Fool!” Katya murmured under her breath as he came toward them.

  Myrina thought that for a brief moment the king’s eyes rested on the deposed priestess’s granddaughter, as though he recognized her, but then he looked away uninterested and rode on.

  Many finely dressed courtiers followed in the king’s wake
and again they were cheered politely. It was only when a small but elaborate cart rattled out through the gates that warm smiles and real excitement seemed to ripple through the crowd. The cart was pulled by two milk-white ponies, and as it passed, many hands reached out to touch its gilded sides. Two young men sat in it side by side, richly dressed in white robes and cloaks, gold fillets bound about their brows. The crowd surged forward to surround the cart, throwing rose petals over its occupants.

  “Sweet boys, sweet boys!” they cried.

  “Hail to the Chosen Ones!”

  “Bring us our harvest from the sea!”

  Myrina closed her eyes for a moment, suppressing horror, as understanding flooded through her mind: the gilded curves that adorned the cart represented the rolling waves of the sea, into which the two young victims would be flung.

  “If I were them, I’d jump out now and run!” Tamsin whispered.

  As the cart passed close to them, Myrina could see only too well why they didn’t attempt to escape. The boys sat side by side on a gilded bench, but they were tied by the ankles to the base of the cart, their hands fastened behind them with golden ropes.

  “Bonds of gold,” Myrina murmured. “Boys—just boys!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hepsuash

  BOTH THE INTENDED victims were young, but strangely neither of them looked scared. Myrina wondered if they understood what their fate would be, but then she saw that the tall, fair-haired boy burned with quiet fury. He knew well enough and he was too angry to be frightened. The other boy was dark haired and his skin was sunburned; he gazed about him with a vacant smile.

  “Who is he?” Myrina murmured. She racked her brain, sure that she had seen him before.

  But what happened next wiped all such thoughts from her mind, for the dark-haired one began to shake his head slowly from side to side. The vacant look fled and was replaced by one of horror as the shaking grew faster and faster. He began to mutter incoherent words.

  Myrina pressed herself up close to the cart, trying to hear what he said. “No—I did not, Mother. No, Mother—I did not!” Then as Myrina still listened, distressed, she seemed to hear him answer himself. “Yes, you did! Yes, you did! No, Mother—it was not my fault. It was the oracle; the oracle told me to do it!”

  His words made no sense. The citizens of Tauris seemed undisturbed by his strange reaction, some laughing, others pleased and excited, almost as though they thought he gibbered to entertain them. Rose petals floated around his head, some settling on his hair and shoulders. Myrina felt that she had never seen anything so horrible, but she realized with some relief that he was unaware of either the rose petals or the chanting crowd. He probably had no idea of his intended fate.

  “Hail to the Chosen Ones!”

  “Young sweethearts! Bring us a good harvest!”

  The boy shook his head, his eyes staring wildly at something far away. “No—I didn’t know! Revenge was my duty! Nobody told me what he had done!”

  His voice sank low, and Myrina could no longer hear, but she saw how he muttered the words faster and faster. The boy’s mind was completely taken over by some other concern. She guessed that they’d have little trouble getting him to jump. It might be more of a problem if they tried to hold him back!

  “Madness,” she murmured. “Poor boy; he is quite mad!”

  The procession wound its way up the sloping hillside, through wide streets and narrow, through open squares and alleyways, the great crowd surging after the cart, pushed and hauled more by helping hands than by the little white ponies.

  “Stay close,” Myrina hissed. She grabbed Tamsin by one hand and on the other side she clung to Phoebe’s arm. They struggled to keep close to the poor victims in their cart, but somehow they seemed to have lost Katya among the great press of people. Myrina pushed ahead, grim faced. She hated being stuck in the middle of this crazy crowd, but she knew that she was learning a lot. She must store every detail in her head—getting Iphigenia away might depend on what she could remember.

  At last, as the sun reached its zenith, the houses and huts thinned out and the procession crossed the stretch of open land that led to the temple. It seemed that nobody wanted to live very close to the sacred spot on the craggy cliff edge. Rows of guards were lined up at the entrance, confirming Myrina’s suspicion that the temple was nothing more than an exquisitely decorated prison.

  A strange place for a young girl to be raised, she thought, looking around for Katya. She still couldn’t see her and dared not search for her as the cries of the crowd told her that the priestess from the sea was about to appear.

  “Hepsuash, Hepsuash!” The chant began low and insistent; then it grew louder and louder. “Hepsuash! Hepsuash! Come to us!”

  At last a movement could be seen, deep inside the dark entrance to the temple. A great fanfare of horns heralded the coming of the priestess. The chanting faded, and everyone waited in silence. Myrina clung to Tamsin’s hand so tightly that she made her daughter wince. Would the priestess be Iphigenia?

  Horns blared again, and a small, slender woman emerged from the shadows of the inner temple, smothered in jeweled robes, a golden circlet on her head. Two soldiers escorted the priestess on either side. Despite the heavy robes and the strange surroundings, Myrina recognized at once the pale oval face and dark hair of Iphigenia.

  “It is her—our own Iphigenia,” Tamsin whispered.

  Phoebe, who had always loved her, whispered fearfully, “If they should hurt her . . .”

  “We will not let them, Tiger Girl!” Myrina whispered. “But look around you. I do not think there are many here who wish her harm.”

  Phoebe saw that this was true. The crowd pressed forward quietly, eager to get a good view of the priestess, their faces bright with curiosity. Myrina did not know whether she wanted to smile or cry at the sight of her dear friend, but at least she could now be sure that her visions had not been deceiving her.

  Iphigenia stood stiffly between her guards, as King Thoas dismounted and climbed the steps to stand at her side. She looked very small beside him, and Myrina saw that she averted her gaze from his. The silence continued as the cart arrived and the two prisoners were released from their ankle bonds, then led up to meet Hepsuash, their hands still tied.

  “We’ve got to get closer,” Myrina hissed in Tamsin’s ear. “Can you think, Lizard, and lead us to the front?”

  Tamsin’s eyes shone at the request. She took tight hold of Myrina’s hand and dived into the crowd, pulling her mother after her as she wriggled and slid her way through the sea of bodies, smiling with innocence at those she nudged and shoved.

  Myrina grabbed Phoebe and dragged her along behind them; then at last she tugged Tamsin back. “Well done—this is close enough,” she whispered. They could see clearly, but were not so close to the front that they themselves might be noticed.

  The view they had of Iphigenia was so good that Myrina almost wished they’d stayed at the back of the crowd. The priestess stood on the temple steps, as poised and dignified as ever, but Myrina, who knew her so well, was shocked by the beaten look in her eyes and the pallor of her cheeks. She wanted to rush forward and snatch her away there and then, whatever might come of it. The sight of Iphigenia brought vividly to her mind the ordeal at Aulis. Then, as now, Myrina had stood at the front of a crowd, watching the twelve-year-old Iphigenia facing death with just the same pathetic dignity.

  “But this is not Aulis,” Myrina muttered under her breath, forcing herself to be sensible. “And it is not Iphigenia who is threatened with sacrifice!”

  Then, as the Snake Lady struggled with her memories, something happened that relieved her of the urgent impulse to leap out from the crowd. The two prisoners were led up the steps to be received by the priestess, the dark-haired boy still muttering wildly, in the throes of insanity. As Iphigenia turned to look at the pair, her whole demeanor changed. Her gaze swept calmly over the angry fair-haired boy, but as she looked past him to the younger on
e, an expression of intense sympathy touched her face, almost of recognition. Myrina had seen this look before and knew well what it meant. Agamemnon’s daughter had seen that somebody close by was in dire need of care and at once she would forget her own troubles in her concern for another.

  Iphigenia turned at once to King Thoas, with outraged authority. “Why are his hands bound?” she demanded, her voice clear and strong. “This suffering is unnecessary! Sacrifice is bad enough, but a victim should at least be shown some respect!”

  The king was puzzled and looked around at his guards.

  “He is not going to escape from here!” Iphigenia spoke with certainty. “Untie his hands!”

  The king hesitated, but a low chant rose from the crowd, a chant of support for the priestess.

  “Hepsuash, Hepsuash!”

  “Hepsuash has spoken!”

  “Untie his hands! Untie his hands! Hepsuash has spoken!”

  An expression of irritation crossed the king’s face, but he nodded at the guards. “Set his hands free!”

  The crowd murmured their approval and fell silent again. Myrina was cheered to see this interchange; it seemed that Iphigenia was not as helpless as she’d feared. As the young man was released from his bonds, the high priestess strode forward and took him into her arms, hugging him. Tall though he was, he accepted the embrace like a child, still trembling and muttering, his head stooping over hers. Iphigenia patted his back, just as a mother might soothe a distressed infant.

  The crowd fell silent again at the sight, puzzled by Hepsuash’s behavior. But the simplicity of the gesture and the calming effect the embrace had on the boy seemed to touch them and win their approval. There were a few murmurs of pity.

  Myrina was strangely comforted by the sight of the two dark heads pressed so close together. Iphigenia suddenly looked strong again; this boy’s frightening situation was one that she must identify with as no other could. Concern for him would bring her a new sense of purpose.

  Then at last the priestess released the boy and turned to acknowledge the crowd, aware of the support they’d given her. They responded with cheers as she bowed graciously and waved to them, every inch the priestess they wanted her to be. Then, just as she turned to go back inside the temple, she raised her hand and for a fleeting moment she gave the Moon Riders’ salute.