Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  “What is it?”

  “I know these people,” Iphigenia answered. “They are as changeable as the weather. Let us go before Thoas thinks better of it.”

  Myrina understood and whistled for Big Chief, who came at once to her side. Then she turned and nodded at Captain Seris, sitting in the prow of the second boat. In a quiet voice he gave the oarsmen the order to turn about. Myrina and Iphigenia walked slowly through the crowd toward the bottom of the steep cliff pathway that led up through the town toward the temple. Nobody stopped them or even seemed to notice the horses following in their wake. The crowds had come out to be entertained by a spectacle and, though the terrible swooping of the sacrificial victims had been denied them, something even more surprising had taken place and fulfilled their need for excitement.

  Myrina found it hard to keep to the slow and steady pace but at last she felt confident enough to mount Big Chief. Iphigenia leaped up onto Moonbeam, and they trotted farther up the hill, Snowboots and Sandmane still following. At last, when they were halfway up the steep winding path, they looked back and saw that lamps had been lit down on the beach as darkness gathered all about the town. Thoas had called for his golden carriage and was handing Katya into it before he took his seat beside her.

  “Is that Nonya he’s inviting in now?” Myrina asked.

  “Yes, I think it is,” Iphigenia agreed with a smile. “Can you hear them singing?”

  The crowds surged all about the carriage, chanting the name Hepsuash.

  “I think the old one is happy enough,” Myrina said with satisfaction. “And look out there—Captain Seris has passed through the cut into the sea.”

  “Have we done it, do you think?” Iphigenia asked, her voice faint and husky now.

  Myrina laughed. “I think we have!” She bent and whispered low in Big Chief’s ear, “Thozeley! Fast horse!”

  Big Chief was eagerly waiting for this command. He pricked up his ears with pleasure and lengthened his stride. They cantered past the lights of the temple, giving Iphigenia’s ornate prison barely a glance, and galloped away over the high cliffs, back toward Yalushta Bay, where they knew Captain Seris would be heading, his master safely back aboard the Castor and Pollux.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A Brave Challenge

  THE RIDE WAS SHEER pleasure to Myrina, compared to the urgency and anxiety she’d felt as she’d covered the same ground the night before. Could it really be such a short time since she’d gone racing to Yalushta with the girls, a crazy plan of action in her head?

  The full moon gleamed above them, and Myrina’s spirits rose. She should have been more confident: the full moon had meant freedom when they’d ridden away from Aulis; now it signified freedom once again. They were galloping wildly away from danger, and Iphigenia had made the bravest speech of her life; this was what being a Moon Rider really meant! There wasn’t time to take the mirror from her belt to seek the images of those she loved, but soon she would follow her friends northward across the Sinta River. Now that Iphigenia was safe, she could set Big Chief’s head for the east and the Moon Riders’ camp.

  They had to slow up as the path began to slope steeply downhill. As the first touches of dawn came, they saw the neat dip and lift of the oars of the Castor and Pollux below them. Seris had his men under firm control as the ship moved steadily against the wind to the appointed place, its master safely aboard.

  They were waiting there by the quayside as the ship arrived, and there was a great deal of hugging and crying when Tamsin and Phoebe were reunited with Iphigenia.

  “Must you go so soon?” they begged.

  Iphigenia smiled and hugged them again. “I thought I had lost all my family, but now I have found my brother again,” she explained.

  They swallowed their pleading, trying hard to understand. Iphigenia still had a sense of urgency and feared that any moment Thoas might send his warriors swarming after them over the cliffs.

  Seris tried to reassure her that in Yalushta they would be able to see an army coming well before they could get close. He insisted that they must wait a little while to take on board enough supplies to see them back across the sea to Athens.

  “We will wait until you go,” Myrina insisted, grateful for this small space of time to be together. Now that she was suddenly faced with the parting, she felt as sad as the girls.

  Orestes strode about the deck, calm and cheerful, Pylades at his side. Myrina could not believe that this was the same boy whose insane muttering had disturbed her so. The young men delighted in their freedom, glad to see their crew again and grateful for the part they’d played, late though it might be. There was joking and relieved laughter as they appeared once more dressed in their own clothes, swords and daggers in their belts, while Seris fretted over the loading of supplies.

  Myrina and Iphigenia sat together a little way up the hillside, both mirror gazing, their bows and quivers beside them. Myrina looked for Kuspada and the Moon Riders’ camp; she was delighted to see a fast horse race taking place. Way ahead of the others rode a girl with flying braids, who sat astride her horse like a centaur’s daughter. It was Zimapo, and she won the race amid wild celebration. But where was her father? Why was he not watching his daughter in her triumph? Myrina could not see the face she searched for.

  Then a small gasp beside her made her lose the vision and come quickly back to her present concerns. “What is it?” she asked.

  Iphigenia had gone very pale. “Cassandra!” she whispered.

  At once Myrina looked back into her own golden mirror and found the troubling vision that held her friend. Cassandra stood over the stone trough that usually swarmed with mice, her hands tangled in her hair as though in great distress. The Mouse Boy clung to her waist and they both looked down with fear at a great space that grew in the middle of the trough. The mice surged with one accord toward the outer rim, scurrying for their lives away from the center, leaving it deserted and empty.

  “What can it mean?” Myrina cried.

  “Danger—sudden danger!” Iphigenia murmured.

  “To whom? To them?”

  Iphigenia’s voice shook and she looked up. “To us, I fear! It is a warning!”

  Myrina’s heart thundered as she dropped her mirror and scrambled to her feet. They both looked out to sea and saw a ship slide into sight around the eastern promontory. They grabbed each other by the hand, and for just one terrible moment stood and watched. The symbol that adorned the billowing sail could not be seen clearly as yet, but still they recognized the ship, a shape they could never forget. The sail would bear the sign of the ant!

  “Neoptolemus!” Myrina hissed.

  They thrust their precious mirrors safely away and snatched up their bows and quivers, then ran down the hillside. “On board! Get on board!” they shouted.

  Everyone looked to the high cliffs and the western horizon, fearing that Thoas pursued them. Nobody could understand why the two Moon Riders were so wildly bellowing the order to go. There was confusion. Seris swore that they hadn’t enough stores aboard, but then Phoebe saw the true threat from the upper deck of the ship and began to howl. “The slave men!” she wailed. “The slave men!” She had never forgotten what the sign of the ant meant.

  That quickly made everyone understand and there was panic. People ran about in all directions.

  Tamsin marched determinedly over the wooden ramp that had been set up to help them load supplies. She snatched Snowboots’s halter and calmly led her aboard the ship. She was not going to leave her horse behind this time.

  Myrina saw quickly that her child had more good sense than she had. She led Big Chief aboard, giving the firm command for the other horses to follow; the Moon Riders’ camp beyond the Sinta River would just have to wait for now.

  Seris and Orestes at last understood the fear that had descended on them, and as soon as everyone was aboard they drew up the ramp and gave the order to move off. But the brightly painted ant ship moved toward them fast and before they
could manage to escape the harbor, it cut across their bows and blocked the way.

  The foredeck of Neoptolemus’s flagship was filled with armed warriors. A shout went up. “Halt in the name of the son of great Achilles!”

  Myrina’s heart sank. She could not believe that they had battled their way through so much trouble only to be stopped again and dragged back into slavery by this pirate of the Inhospitable Sea. She reached up to cling to Big Chief’s neck, in need of support, grateful for the feel of warm horseflesh.

  A giant of a man, armed to the teeth, shouted again, “I take this ship and all on board in the name of Neoptolemus, son of the great hero Achilles!”

  There was silence. Myrina anxiously looked back at the eastern promontory, wondering when the rest of Neoptolemus’s fleet would follow his flagship into view. As yet there was no sign of them, but she knew that they would come. She scanned the helmets that, row on row, covered the deck of the ship that blocked their way. The men carried swords and lances, but she could see no archers among their ranks. That gave her a little hope as she quickly rallied her courage and nocked an arrow to her bow. Phoebe and Iphigenia did the same. The Ant Men would have to get past their arrows to capture any Moon Riders again.

  Seris spoke urgently to his master. “We have no space to ram them,” he whispered. “All we can do is back up a little and then try to make a break for it!”

  There was silence again, but then suddenly Orestes strode forward and climbed up onto the balustrade on the foredeck. “Neoptolemus, show yourself!” he cried, his voice surprisingly firm and steady.

  “Who has the temerity to demand such a thing!”

  “I, Orestes! Son of the great King Agamemnon!”

  There was a ripple of shock as his words sank in, then suddenly every warrior’s face turned to stare in disbelief at the young man. This was not what they’d expected.

  The huge giant stepped forward, thumping his chest with pride. “I am Neoptolemus, son of Achilles!”

  Iphigenia looked uncertainly at Myrina, who nodded. “Yes, it is him—I saw his father fight, remember.”

  “I have no quarrel with you—Agamemnon’s son! Our fathers once fought side by side!”

  “Huh! There was no love lost between them,” Myrina whispered.

  “Hand over your ship to me and join my ranks! You and I will stand together as our fathers did!”

  Orestes spoke quietly now through gritted teeth. “You took my sister as a slave!”

  Neoptolemus stared at him, amazed. “Your sister?”

  “My sister Iphigenia, long lost to me, was among the ranks of the Moon Riders you captured at the fight for the Thermodon.”

  Again there came a ripple of surprise among the warriors, but also laughter and sneers. Neoptolemus’s answer was ripe with insult. “Iphigenia! She did escape the sacrificial knife then? How could I know that she’d keep company with those mad bitches at the Thermodon?” His appeal was from one thug to another.

  Iphigenia opened her mouth as though she must speak, but Myrina shook her head and silenced her. “Your brother has found his courage—let him see what he can do!”

  “I challenge you, Achilles’ son!” Orestes thundered, drawing his sword. “Let us see how brave you are without your band of pirates. Come ashore and fight with me alone! Let us finish the quarrel that poisoned our fathers’ friendship. If you win, you take my ship and all aboard; if you lose you simply let us leave unharmed!”

  “Ha!” Neoptolemus convulsed with laughter while his men jeered. “I cannot lose!”

  There was worried silence among Orestes’ supporters. Achilles’ son must be thirty years old and had his father’s physique. Orestes was a mere boy beside him. Pylades looked at his friend, aghast, but said nothing. Seris whispered furiously into his master’s ear, but Orestes did not move a muscle.

  At last the laughter died down and the sullen silence from those aboard the Castor and Pollux made Neoptolemus’s men look to their master for a response.

  Neoptolemus’s face now grew grim; all trace of laughter fled as he flushed and drew his sword. “Let the sniveling whelp of Agamemnon face his doom then! I will meet you down there on the quayside. No one else leave either ship! If the boy wishes to be slaughtered like a calf, he deserves so foolish an end!”

  Orestes marched bravely to the gunwale and swung himself over, leaping lightly down onto the quay. “I accept!”

  Pylades threw a shield down to him. Every person aboard both ships stumbled over to the shoreward side to see what would happen next. Iphigenia went very pale and gripped Myrina’s arm. “Have I found my brother to lose him so soon?”

  Myrina touched her bow. “I see no archers in their ranks,” she hissed. “I could shoot the man down like a stag!”

  “But you will not do that!” Iphigenia was quick to assert her sense of justice.

  “No . . . you are right,” Myrina agreed reluctantly. “But will they honor the agreement?”

  Neoptolemus climbed over the gunwales of his flagship and clambered down, landing heavily, though the great muscles of his calves and thighs helped him to recover quickly.

  Myrina watched it all, remembering with pain how Penthesilea had fought the great Achilles and died at his hand. Was this troubled young man to suffer a similar fate?

  “Penthesilea, help him,” she murmured.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Orestes’ Redemption

  PHOEBE WAS STANDING at Myrina’s side and she’d heard Myrina’s whispered prayer for help. She knew the story of Penthesilea well. “Snake Lady,” she said, “you often told me how Penthesilea nearly won when she fought Achilles!”

  “Yes.” Myrina tried to find comfort and courage in this reminder. “You are right, Young Tiger. Penthesilea could leap like a gazelle, and Orestes is much lighter than Neoptolemus; he must try to use that. And another thing”—she narrowed her eyes—“this is not the great Achilles. It seems to me that the wealth Neoptolemus has gained through trading slaves has made the man fat!”

  Iphigenia almost smiled. “You are right, Snake Lady, Neoptolemus has grown fat!”

  But any sense of cheer fled quickly, for Achilles’ son did not wait for any signal, but swung his sword, closely missing Orestes’ neck and catching him unawares. They saw that for all his height and weight the man could fight. Neoptolemus’s men cheered and jeered, but those on Orestes’ ship watched quietly, grim and alert, as Captain Seris moved among them, whispering orders to each of them.

  Orestes had been caught unawares by this sudden attack, but he quickly rallied and Myrina saw with a touch of hope that he was not inexperienced in fighting with a sword. Pylades watched in an agony of helplessness, whispering instructions that his friend could not hear. “Beware his swing! To the east, to the east! Now duck!”

  “You two learned to fight together,” Myrina said.

  Pylades nodded. “I have slightly the better skill. It should be me down there!”

  “No!” She tried to offer comfort. “You have fought by his side for long enough. This is one battle that Orestes must fight alone, and whatever may come of it, he has earned my respect!”

  There was a low moan and a gasp from Orestes’ men as they saw Neoptolemus lunge and slice their master’s left shoulder above the protection of his shield. But while Neoptolemus turned to his men in triumph, the younger man managed to make a quick upper thrust from below that deeply wounded the giant’s neck.

  Then there were angry gasps from his men as Neoptolemus staggered backward. His warriors threatened to climb down to aid their master, but Myrina grabbed her arrow. “Here’s a dart for the first man to break the rules!” she bellowed.

  They did not need another warning; for all their sneers, they knew that a Moon Rider’s arrow was something to be feared. Orestes was bleeding profusely from his wound and his shield arm hung uselessly, but he leaped forward, sensing that he had gained an advantage. He thrust again, and this time his sword sank deep into Neoptolemus’s breast. There
was a hushed gasp, then Pylades leaped over the gunwales, grabbed his friend, and dragged him back to the boat. At the same moment Neoptolemus’s men swarmed down like angry bees to their master, despite their fear of flying arrows.

  Myrina lowered her bow; the fight was over. Neoptolemus could not recover from such a wound. The son of Agamemnon had killed the son of Achilles.

  “Now,” Seris shouted. “To the oars!”

  As one man, Orestes’ oarsmen slipped into their seats, snatching up the oars at once, for they had little trust that the followers of Neoptolemus would honor their master’s agreement. Captain Seris had steadily been slipping the ropes during the fight so that the Castor and Pollux had slowly drifted to the east. Now he had gained a small space to maneuver and turn the prow for the open sea.

  Myrina watched with admiration, remembering the sleepy, rebellious crew she had disturbed only two days ago. The oarsmen struck the water with precision, catapulting the ship away from the shore. They moved with such strength that though the prow caught the bows of Neoptolemus’s ship, it knocked it aside like flotsam and plowed out into the deep water.

  Orestes had collapsed on the deck, but Myrina saw that he was in good hands, Iphigenia tending him, aided by Phoebe. The ship lurched as the oars sent it shooting forward, but they already had his wound stanched and were binding it tightly. Tamsin had set herself to soothe the horses, for they tossed their heads and stamped in protest at the unnerving sensation of a rolling deck beneath their hooves.

  “Good girl!” Myrina went at once to help her. “Hush now, boy!” she crooned, fastening Big Chief to one of the stanchions, softly repeating the Mazagardi command to be still.

  She looked back and saw more ships sliding into sight around the promontory; the rest of Neoptolemus’s fleet had come, as she knew they must. Back in Yalushta Bay some of his men were trying to man the oars and set off in pursuit in the flagship, but most of them stayed on the shore in disarray, raging and mourning their leader.