Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  They threw their arms around each other and wept with joy. Myrina watched with tears pouring down her face. Then Cassandra looked for her and stretched out her arm. “Snake Lady!”

  She went to them, and all three hugged each other and cried again with happiness.

  “We three have never really been apart!” Cassandra whispered.

  “No, we have not!” Myrina agreed. “But no vision can be as good as this!”

  At last they raised their heads and wiped their tears away, for there were others who might need their help and a good explanation.

  But Orestes was already recovering from his shock. He went down on one knee, holding his hand out to the Mouse Boy. “You must be Chryse and I know your story,” he told him. “You and I share the same father, but we have different mothers. My father did your gentle mother great harm, and for that I am truly sorry!”

  Chryse eyed him uncomfortably for a moment, but then he took the offered hand and at last the two hugged each other. “You never harmed us,” Chryse whispered.

  “I almost did!” Orestes held him at arm’s length again and smiled at him.

  The Mouse Boy giggled. “I will fight you properly tomorrow!”

  “It’s a promise,” Orestes said.

  Myrina remembered the horses and whistled for Big Chief. He came at once, the mares following him, blowing happily, heads erect, glad to be on firm land again.

  Chryse smiled shyly at Tamsin and Phoebe. “We’ve made a feast for you,” he told them. “Come and see.”

  Tamsin marched eagerly up the beach beside him. Phoebe followed, looking older and a little awkward.

  Myrina and Iphigenia walked arm in arm with Cassandra, one on either side of her. They went slowly up the hill together toward the temple hidden in the trees. Myrina hesitated halfway up the hill.

  “What is it?” Cassandra asked, concerned.

  “Am I really here with you or am I dreaming?”

  Cassandra laughed; it was a lovely sound.

  “I just can’t believe we are here,” Myrina insisted, rubbing her eyes. “I swore the fates were treating me ill, but it seems those capricious ones were kinder than I knew. If I wasn’t so wet and bruised, I’d think I was dreaming!”

  “I feel as though I’m dreaming, too,” Iphigenia agreed.

  As they emerged from the trees they saw ahead of them a wonderful scene. Three fires burned in braziers, and a long table was laid with food and drink. Orestes’ weary crew were already eating and drinking and warming themselves.

  Myrina stopped. “You knew that we were coming!”

  “Of course we knew—the mice told us.” Cassandra smiled. “But I have watched you in my dark pool every step of the way. If you had looked into your glass you would have seen me preparing your supper.”

  “There was no time for mirror gazing!” Myrina told her sharply. Then they all laughed again.

  Myrina ate and drank a little, but weariness blurred her mind and she could remember little more. She woke warm and dry in a simple bedchamber, on a comfortable straw-stuffed mattress, and couldn’t think where she was. How had she got to bed? Tamsin was still fast asleep beside her. She saw that Iphigenia and Phoebe slept on another mattress in the same room. It was only when she sat up and groaned as she moved her bruised legs that she remembered.

  “Cassandra!” she murmured.

  Gritting her teeth against the aches and pains, she got up quietly, leaving the others in peace. She wandered out into the main temple building, eager to explore. Two powerful decorated columns stood at the entrance to the temple: one bore an image of the god Apollo with his bow and arrows, sitting astride a huge mouse.

  “Sminthean Apollo, the Mouse God.” She bowed to it.

  The other column depicted a fat female shape, with large breasts and a swollen stomach that the woman cradled protectively with her hands.

  “Maa!” Myrina smiled and bowed again. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

  She turned at the sound of a footstep behind her. It was Cassandra. “Do you like my new addition?” she asked.

  “You have set the image of Maa up here?”

  “This place was sacred to Maa long before they built Apollo’s temple. I decided to bring her back as companion to the Mouse God. I was promised to Apollo as a child, but then I became a Moon Rider, so now that I am free to choose I give my respect to both of them.”

  Myrina understood that very well. “But what did the people who live in these parts say when you changed their temple?”

  Cassandra spoke with confidence. “Respect for Maa was always there, hidden away in their dances and songs. They are glad to have her restored to her proper place—you will see for yourself; they’ll be coming soon.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Mouse Boy

  MYRINA STARED OVER toward the mainland as, shading her eyes, she saw many people gathering on the shore.

  “Where are the boats?” she asked.

  Cassandra smiled, amused. “They do not need boats; this is a magical island—they walk on water. Look . . . here they come.”

  Myrina watched with growing amazement as a trail of people, young and old, some leading little children, seemed to march into the water and set off toward them. Cassandra laughed at her expression of astonishment.

  “We are not really an island,” she explained. “At least not for much longer!”

  Myrina frowned. “It’s a causeway!”

  “A causeway built by Maa, you might say. It’s a sand spit that seems to grow each year, and every storm washes a little more sand around the island to build the pathway. In years to come we will be part of the mainland.”

  Myrina smiled as she watched the procession. She could see now that they must proceed almost in single file, the sand spit just wide enough for a mother and child. They marched confidently toward the temple, looking just as if they were walking over the sea, the water swishing at their ankles.

  “Even though it’s only a sand spit, there is something magical about it. It’s as though Maa leads them over here to find you.”

  “I’d like to think that was true,” Cassandra said.

  “What do they come for, and what are the little bundles they carry?”

  “They come for advice! They come for healing! They come to share their troubles, and the bundles are our payment; bakers bring us bread, goatherds bring us milk, weavers bring us rugs and linen.”

  Myrina laughed. “You seem to have found a perfect way of living and a true purpose here,” she said, “just as Centaurea did on Lunardia, her Nest of Maa.”

  Cassandra took her hand. “Dear friend,” she said, “I have found real peace on this half island. I am happier than I have ever been, and the people here treat me with more respect and honor than ever I was given as princess of Troy.”

  “But it must be hard work,” Myrina insisted, “serving so many folk.”

  “They don’t all come for my advice; I have a helper. Come and see!”

  Cassandra led her by the hand down to the gardens, where the dark pool lay surrounded by weeping willows. The people were already arriving, and a few of them gathered beside the pool, waiting and whispering hopefully as Cassandra came into view. Beyond the pool in a sunny, open space Chryse crouched beside the shallow stone trough that teemed with mice, just as Myrina had seen in her mirror visions. He dipped into the middle and lifted one small mouse out from the many. Then he rose to his feet and handed the creature to a little girl. The child took it carefully in her hands, then solemnly followed her mother into the temple.

  Cassandra went to greet the people who waited patiently by her pool, but Myrina stood quietly in the sunshine to watch what Chryse would do next.

  As soon as the young girl had left carrying her mouse, a father immediately pushed forward in her place a boy who’d seen four or five springs. He stood by the trough, white-faced and yawning, dark shadows beneath his eyes. The father looked exhausted, too, and he spoke with quiet desperation. Myrina cre
pt closer to hear what he said.

  “Our son Machus will not sleep,” he told Chryse. “He is restless all night and wanders away. We cannot sleep ourselves for we fear he will go outside and fall down the well. We are all worn out, and my wife and I begin to blame each other!”

  Chryse listened intently, then he reached out to touch the man’s shoulder in a kindly, soothing gesture that seemed mature beyond his years. He studied the mice carefully, then he picked one out and turned to Machus.

  Involuntarily, the child’s hands went out, palms up. “I give you my friend Poppy,” Chryse said solemnly. “You must weave a little house for him to live in, made from willow wands, with many holes to give him air. He needs clean water to drink each day, sunflower seeds to eat, and soft dry grass to sleep in, and when he curls up to sleep, you must watch over him to see that he is safe. But you must remember this—when he wakes at night to drink and feed and run about his little home, then it is time for you to close your eyes and sleep. You and Poppy will be two sides of one coin. When he sleeps you will stay awake to look after him and while you sleep, Poppy will stand guard and keep you safe. Do you understand?”

  The boy solemnly nodded, still holding out his hands.

  Chryse gently gave him the mouse, and both father and child watched with wonder as the small brown creature curled up in the child’s soft palms and went straight to sleep.

  “Guard him well until he wakes!” Chryse said. “When he wakes, what will you do?”

  “I will sleep,” the boy promised. Then he turned and followed his father toward the temple.

  Myrina watched the Mouse Boy with pride, remembering the poor weak baby he’d been, born within the war-torn walls of Troy.

  As soon as Machus had moved away, a woman pushed a small girl forward, who looked healthy enough to Myrina. “Can you help us, Mouse Boy?” she begged. “We cannot get a word out of this little one. We’ve six all bigger than her and we can’t keep them quiet, but little Dor won’t say a word. All our family have great loud voices, but not little Dor—she won’t make a sound!”

  Chryse didn’t answer; he just nodded and put his finger to his lips as though to hush the mother. The woman fell silent at once. Chryse studied his mice again, then he picked one out while Dor watched, wide-eyed. “This is Squeak,” he said to her softly. “Squeak has no words of her own, so you must speak for her—you are to be her voice. You must tell others what she needs—do you understand? Your brothers and sisters must do the work.”

  Dor held out her hands and took the small brown, trembling creature. The mouse looked up at her and squeaked. The mother opened her mouth as though to speak, but Chryse hushed her. “Dor is her voice!” he reminded.

  The mouse squeaked again, and Chryse waited patiently. Dor looked anxious. “You are her voice,” Chryse told her gently. “What does she say?”

  Dor still looked worried, but her lips suddenly moved, as though with a great effort. “N-needs a . . . a little house,” she managed at last.

  Her mother’s mouth dropped open in surprise to hear her voice; there was clearly nothing wrong with little Dor’s hearing.

  Chryse turned his sweet smile on the child and she glowed. The mouse squeaked again.

  “And what else?” he asked, his voice still low.

  “W-water and s-sunflower seeds.”

  “And who must get them for her?”

  “My brothers and s-sisters.”

  “And who will tell them?”

  “I will.” Dor spoke with conviction.

  “Thank you,” the mother whispered as she led her child away.

  Myrina looked on with tears in her eyes, as she thought of Chryse’s babyhood. In war-stricken Troy, while fighting raged all about the walls, both she and Cassandra had struggled to help the gentle priestess of Apollo accept the child that Agamemnon had forced on her. They had won that battle, and Chryseis had grown to love her son dearly. “He was well worth the effort,” Myrina murmured. “A gifted child.”

  She left the busy garden and went into the temple to find a growing collection of small offerings laid out on a table in the main entrance hall. She poured a little goat’s milk into a beaker, took up a small bowl of figs and carried them out to Chryse.

  “You work hard,” she told him. “You deserve a little rest and food.”

  The Mouse Boy looked at her, surprised, but then he smiled and thanked her.

  “Your mother would be very proud of you,” she told him warmly. “This is important work that you do. Nobody could do it better.”

  Later that day, Orestes emerged from a long sleep and wandered out to see how Chryse spent his time. He watched, impressed. “I thought to spar with him as young boys do,” he confided to Myrina. “But my little brother has the wisdom of an ancient one.”

  “I think he would still like a bit of brotherly fun,” Myrina told him.

  That evening, when the long trail of visitors had left, Orestes and Chryse clashed fighting sticks together on the temple lawn, and the quiet place grew noisy with laughter and shouts. Tamsin and Phoebe watched them impatiently for a while, voicing their criticisms, hands on hips.

  “Let’s show them what Moon Rider girls can do,” Phoebe said at last, all shyness gone.

  “Come on, Tiger Girl,” Tamsin agreed.

  They found themselves sticks and joined in with gusto. Pylades came to help his master, fearful that he needed it against so fierce a crew.

  That same evening, after they had eaten, Cassandra, Iphigenia, and Myrina danced together on the lawn. Tamsin and Phoebe swore they were too exhausted to perform, but the truth was that they wanted to watch this dance, for they saw that the Snake Lady’s eyes shone as never before and her smile was wild with joy as she spun and swayed. Those three friends, who’d seen so many years of struggle, had the appearance of agile young girls, their hair swinging out as they moved in harmony, their limbs lithe and strong.

  Orestes and his supporters looked on with awe and a deep sense of privilege. There would never be another night like this, and nothing but the dance could express the love and happiness that the three friends felt.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Parting

  THE NEXT MORNING brought practical talk of what they should all do next. Captain Seris set about repairing the damage that had been done to his ship, and the word soon spread around the Sminthean countryside that the priestess and the Mouse Boy had shipwrecked visitors who needed help. Instead of pots of honey, people carried across the sand spit planks of wood and pots of pitch. Carpenters came to offer their help, and by the time the Month of Flowers had arrived the boat was fully repaired and strong again.

  Many of the provisions they’d been given on the Isle of Marble were salvaged and stashed safely aboard the ship, and then a touch of restlessness seemed to come to Orestes. After they’d worked hard all day to see the Castor and Pollux shipshape he spoke to his sister at supper, putting his thoughts into words. “Seris says there is time to reach Athens before the hottest weather comes,” he murmured, looking at his sister anxiously. “If we are to return to Athens, I think we must set sail soon.”

  Iphigenia nodded sadly.

  “I hate to take you from your friends,” he told her. “You are free to change your mind and stay here with them. There could be no better place for you to be.”

  But Iphigenia shook her head, determined to go with him. “We have work to do,” she said. “I think the council of Athens may listen to me. You and I are the only ones who can wipe out the bitter curse of our inheritance and bring peace to the troubled land where we were born.”

  Orestes nodded in agreement. “I don’t return to the council with the image of the goddess they told me to seek, but I think the living person of my sister safe and well will impress them more.”

  Cassandra sat on the other side of Iphigenia and heard his words. She smiled. “You have found more than you know,” she told him mysteriously.

  They looked at her, surprised, but Cassandra r
efused to say more.

  On the day of their departure they all gathered at the beach to make their sad farewells. Seris made his offer of marriage to Myrina one last time.

  She hugged him tightly, but shook her head. “I will never forget you,” she whispered.

  He sighed heavily and kissed her forehead. “He is a lucky man, that one who waits. You had better not make him wait too long.”

  Orestes and Iphigenia both hugged Chryse. “We are so glad to know our little brother,” Iphigenia cried, tears in her eyes.

  “You can always find a home with us on Sminthe,” Chryse offered in an almost fatherly way.

  Orestes kissed the young boy’s hand. “Your love and forgiveness does much to heal all wounds,” he said. ‘We children of Agamemnon can give one another peace.”

  Myrina led Moonbeam down to the ship. “Take her with you,” she told Iphigenia. “With Moonbeam at your side, you will always be a Moon Rider.”

  Iphigenia clasped her as though she could not let go, but at last she managed to pull away and began with shaking fingers to untie the pouch that contained her ancient magical mirror.

  “This precious gift should now be returned to its true owner,” she offered, holding it out to Cassandra.

  “No.” Cassandra was firm. “I’m glad that you value my old mirror, but I have no need of it these days, and believe me, its true owner is you. If you keep it, just as before we will never be apart, but there is more to this mirror. Take it out and examine it carefully.”

  Iphigenia looked puzzled, but she obediently pulled the dark glossy round of rough-cut obsidian from its pouch. Both Orestes and Myrina crept close, intrigued by her words, frowning and trying to understand what Cassandra might mean.

  Myrina remembered only too well that Atisha, the old leader of the Moon Riders, had spoken with reverence when she’d first seen the shining hard black shape. Now Iphigenia held it up, so that the sun gleamed on its simple glassy surface. They could see nothing but the images of themselves reflected there, staring back with curiosity.