The Shore of Women

by Pamela Sargent

  “I wanted her to welcome me, and she shrank from my touch. You will never be what she was to me, but perhaps I can forget my grief with you. I know now that you don’t despise the touch of a man.”

  I felt the blood draining from my face. “What are you saying?” I whispered.

  He walked toward me; I could not look up at his face. “I have other eyes,” he said. “Tulan has been my eyes. He has seen what has passed between you and Vilan. Vilan was foolish. He allowed the boy to long for him but did not return his love. He didn’t see that a boy’s fierce love might become hatred and a longing for revenge. Vilan let me believe that he lay with the boy. He would have been wise to do so, but the Lady’s spell was over him by then, that spell that can keep a man from seeking out other men.”

  My chest was so tight that I could hardly breathe.

  “The boy saw Vilan longed for you,” he continued. “He saw that you were often alone here and that you rode into the wood together. He followed you at a distance and discovered where you went. He began to go out there and wait for you this spring, concealing himself so that you would not discover him. He saw what you and Vilan did under the trees.”

  “He lied,” I managed to say. “He’s trying to turn you against Arvil.”

  “He did not lie. He could not lie about such a matter. He waited, and you came there. He saw you move your body upon his and described to me what you did. He was frightened when he first saw this—he believed you might punish him for seeing it, and so he kept what he knew to himself, thinking this might be some holy matter he did not understand. Then the land grew parched, and no rain came, and he began to believe that you and Vilan had brought the curse upon us. He knew that you were not to lie with us, yet you lay with him. Perhaps if Vilan had shown him love, he would have kept his secret, but Vilan did not. Tulan heard you both when you were together, planning to escape from us. It was then he knew that he would have to come to me. He told me of your secret this morning, before the omen appeared. He told me much of how you sought pleasures with Vilan.”

  I clutched at my stomach, afraid I might be sick. “It is not for you to question My ways,” I said. “You know what I am. Would you bring a greater curse upon yourself?”

  “You’ll bring no curse,” he muttered. “You have no powers. I learned this with your companion long ago, that she was a being like us, for I knew her body well. I learned that she had no power over us, that I could do as I liked. But it served me to keep this knowledge to myself to strengthen my position as Headman. It served me to let her believe I still worshipped her so that she would not betray me to others. It will be different with us. You will see me as I am, and I shall know the truth about you.”

  “I’ll never lie with you,” I said. “If you carry me into the camp, I’ll denounce you—tell them all you lied.”

  “Then Vilan will be the first to die.” He dragged me up and pushed me against the wall of the hut. “Consider his fate before you speak. Tulan will keep your secret for now, but if I don’t have what I want from you, he will speak of what he knows. I will not even have to order Vilan’s death—the men will take his life for bringing a curse upon us.”

  He pulled at my shirt as I struggled against him. “Get away from me,” I whispered. He dragged me away from the wall and pushed me through the hut’s entrance; I fell to the dirt floor.

  He came toward me; I tried to kick him with my legs. He grabbed my ankles and forced my legs apart, then fell across me, pinning me to the ground. My hand darted toward his face, ready to scratch at his eyes; he held me down with one arm as he fumbled at my belt.

  The holds Arvil had taught me were useless. His bare chest was a heavy weight squeezing the breath from me; I was afraid I would faint. He twisted against me as he loosened his belt. I tensed, clenching my teeth.

  “I see why she hated you,” I said with what breath I had left. “She hated you, and she mocked you, and sometimes she even pitied you.” He felt at me roughly, hurting me. I stiffened and turned my head from him, unable to struggle any more.

  He pushed his member against me, then sat back on his heels. His hand struck me hard across the face; I took the blow and tasted blood. “My power is gone from me,” he muttered. “Do you have an evil power after all?” He raised his arm, as if to strike me again, then struggled to his feet. “It had better be different when I’m with you again. If I am not roused, you’ll find ways to rouse me, or you will see Vilan die.”

  As he was about to walk through the door, I said, “You will bring Arvil with you when you come to take me to the camp. Otherwise, I have only your word that he lives.”

  “I’ll bring whom I please.”

  “You will bring Arvil. When I know he is safe, I’ll do whatever you want.” I forced myself to say those hateful, bitter words. “You won’t regret it, Yerlan. I want him restored to his former place and honored by you, I want to know that he won’t be harmed, and then you’ll see what pleasures I can show you, but if you hurt him, your powers will never return.”

  He strode from the hut without answering. I crawled into a corner and lay there, bruised and aching with sorrow. I had no hope that Arvil would live for long. Yerlan’s jealousy would grow; or Tulan would tell others what he knew eventually; and sooner or later, I was sure, a ship would return to strike at this camp. I had only the hope of seeing Arvil once more before he was lost to me forever. I wanted him to know that it was he whom I loved, whatever Yerlan might tell him now.

  I sat in my hut the next morning, staring at my knife, knowing that a slash at my throat could free me. Nallei would have wanted me to live somehow. Arvil would suffer if Yerlan discovered I had taken my life; the Headman would not make his death an easy one.

  At last I went outside. The sky was still clear, but the air had grown stickier. I took out my sling and aimed my stones at the trees, imagining that each trunk I hit was Yerlan. The Headman would come for me and return with me to the hut. Arvil had shown me that I could love a man; Yerlan would teach me to hate all men. I searched the sky, hoping that a ship would come, wanting to die before Yerlan killed what was left in my soul and heart.

  I tucked my sling under my belt and descended the trail. Aklan and Resilan were below, guarding the island; Resilan got to his feet. “What is it You wish, Holy One?”

  I was silent.

  “Rain will come,” Aklan said as he turned his head. “I feel it in my bones. We will be blessed by You in many ways now.” A new look of anticipation was in their eyes: the hope for rain, the wish that I might summon them to my side soon.

  I left them and walked along the shore. I would not go to the camp; I would find a way to prevent it, whatever the cost.

  The evening came when Yerlan was to fetch me. I had prepared myself, tested the bow Arvil had made for me. I tied back my hair, shouldered my quiver, and walked toward the trail.

  I moved along the path until I was close to the shore, then left it to creep through the trees. Resilan and Aklan sat on the rocks, waiting as another boat moved toward the island. I squinted and saw Arvil’s blond head in the dusky light. He sat in the prow of the boat, hands at his sides as Yerlan paddled behind him.

  The men below had not heard my movements. I had practiced creeping silently through the wood during the day, moving close to them without giving myself away. I stood against a tree as the boat came nearer.

  Resilan got up and pulled Yerlan’s boat ashore. As Arvil stumbled from the boat, I noticed that his legs were bound, hobbling his movements. Yerlan put down his oar, picked up a spear, and handed Aklan a leather cord as he stepped onto the island.

  “Bind Vilan’s hands,” Yerlan said.

  “Why is he bound?” Resilan asked.

  “Vilan has not yet learned his place,” Yerlan replied. “I think that, if he were freed, he would try to fight me even now.” He put a hand on Arvil’s neck as Aklan tied Arvil’s arms behind his back. “I would have to kill him then, and I would not want to lose so fine a man. I must protect him
from himself. He brought a Holy One to us, and the Lady would be unhappy if he could not share our joy tonight. His anger will cool when he sees us blessed, and perhaps then I can free him from his bonds. I’ll allow him to share in our celebration, even bound as he is.”

  Yerlan fingered the feathers around his neck as he gazed at the sky. “Rain is coming,” he said. “I saw the feathery clouds today. Even now the sky darkens.”

  “The Lady will not be pleased to see Her messenger bound,” Resilan said.

  “She will be pleased that I guarded him from himself, kept him alive.” Yerlan prodded Arvil with the point of his spear. “We will see what She ordains for him later. Wait here.”

  Resilan was frowning. I retreated up the hill, moving as quickly as I dared until I was near the top of the trail. I took out one arrow, notched it to my bow, and waited under the trees. My heart was pounding so wildly that I scarcely heard anything else, but my hands were steady.

  Yerlan’s voice drifted toward me. “This will be a new joy for me,” he was saying. “Pray that the Lady gives me everything I wish, because for every pleasure She does not grant me, I will bring pain to you.”

  “She will never allow you to treat me this way.”

  “She will allow it. She has no power to do otherwise.”

  “You’ll have my life anyway. She’ll understand that. Tulan won’t keep silent forever—he will speak about what he knows and then your men will demand my life. You will never have what you want from Her.”

  I heard the sound of a hand striking flesh. “Tulan will be silent for as long as I wish. Seeing you live and suffer for scorning him will give him more joy than a death that might bring you peace. The Lady will do as I wish for a time to keep you alive, and then I’ll teach Her to long for me. That is when you will die, Vilan—when She no longer longs for you.”

  They were near me at last. Arvil walked stiffly, inhibited by the cord between his ankles. Yerlan was behind him, his spear at Arvil’s back. I held my breath as they passed. They moved into the clearing; their backs were to me. Arvil stumbled forward and fell to his knees.

  “Holy One,” the Headman called out.

  I stepped from the trees and took aim. The arrow flew, embedding itself in Yerlan’s back. He swayed and turned to face me. His eyes were wide with surprise. I saw no anger in his face, only hurt and an odd look of appeal.

  My courage nearly left me then. He still held his spear and might have hurled it at me as I aimed another arrow, yet he did not lift the weapon. The second arrow landed in the base of his throat. He dropped the spear, clutched at his neck, and toppled forward.

  I ran to Arvil and cut away his bonds with my knife. He crawled to Yerlan, searched the body with his hands, then pulled a knife from the dead man’s belt. “My weapon,” he muttered. “He took that from me as well.” He sat back on his heels. “You’ve killed our tormentor, Birana, but you’ve left us no escape.”

  I was nearly sick. Arvil stood up and caught me before I fell. “It doesn’t matter. We’re dead already.” I could not look at Yerlan. “He could have killed me easily. Something held him back.” I shuddered as I leaned against him.

  “Aklan and Resilan are waiting. If he does not come, they’ll climb up here. Are you prepared to take their lives as well?”

  “I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I’ve killed already. Maybe it becomes easier the more one does it.” I pushed his arms away. “I wanted him dead. I didn’t think of what would happen later. At least we can die together now.”

  “No, Birana. I won’t have him dead only so that we can lie at his side.” He lifted his head. “Yerlan spoke truly when he said that the rains will come. I sense a storm approaching.”

  The wind was rising; trees swayed above us. I had been so intent on my deed that I had not noticed the sky. “The clouds will thicken,” he continued, “and hide the moon. There may be a small chance for us. One of the boats below can carry us from here. If it grows dark enough, we may not be seen.”

  “There are also two men below,” I said.

  “Send them away. Tell them you will lie with Yerlan here and come to the camp when the storm is past. They’ll listen. Tell them that you’ll lift the curse in this way.”

  I dropped my quiver and bow, then walked toward the path. Arvil picked up my weapons and followed. We would never escape, whatever Arvil thought. The sky might darken enough for us to paddle away from the island, but even if we were not seen, a storm would force us toward land. We would have to flee through the wood on foot if rain came. Someone was likely to come for Yerlan in the morning; Tulan would tell his story when he knew the Headman was dead. The band would not rest until they hunted us down. We would, at best, have only a few more days.

  Arvil left the trail and concealed himself among the trees as I stepped toward the rocks. Across the bay, in the camp, torches flickered in the open space as the men there waited for me. The wind wailed a little and then died down.

  Aklan stood up. “A storm is coming,” I said quickly. “It is My wish, and that of the Headman, that you return to the camp before the rains arrive. I shall celebrate My rites with him here, and with the messenger he has kept from harm. In this way, I will end this evil time.”

  The two men were still. “Go,” I commanded.

  “Why has the Headman not come to tell us of Your wishes?” Aklan asked.

  I searched for words. “He prepares himself for My blessing,” I replied. “Go.” Aklan and Resilan were hesitating. I pressed my lips together for a moment. “Obey Me, and it may be that I shall summon both of you before long.”

  They bowed, then pushed their boat into the water. I watched as they drifted out onto the lake. The surface of the water was growing choppier; their arms rose and fell swiftly as they paddled. The distant sound of a song reached me from the camp, a song about the mercy the Lady showed to worthy men. The sun was gone as clouds swept toward us from the west.

  Arvil came out and sat beside me on a rock. “My life here was a good one,” he said, “until this season. I learned much and there were friends for me. I had your love.” He was speaking as though he knew he would die soon.

  I reached for his hand. This might be the last peaceful moment we would know. The men in the camp sang as they danced. Thunder rumbled softly and faded away; I heard a faint hum.

  Arvil tensed as the hum grew louder. “A ship,” I whispered.

  He grabbed me; we rolled together into the water, then hid under the rocks jutting out from the island’s edge. The gleam of three ships appeared in the south, over the hill above the camp. We sank down under the rocks until the water reached our necks; Arvil held me tightly. The men still waited in the open space, watching as the ships approached. Cries of joy escaped them.

  Beams lighted the night as rays found targets. Flames blazed from the thatched roofs of the dwellings. Men fell from the wall as others ran helplessly toward the lake. Resilan stood up in his boat as a beam found him.

  I pressed my face against Arvil, unable to look, but the screams of the dying men reached us. We huddled under the rock, hidden from the ships’ eyes. Beams struck behind us; I smelled smoke and burning wood. The humming faded and then grew louder as the ships made another pass at the island and flew on toward the camp. Rays shot from the ships; the camp blazed with light. The dwellings burned as men lay scattered on the ground. The wind caught the flames, tearing patches of burning thatch over the low dirt wall. Men were running from the open space; they shrieked as the beams struck them.

  I hid my eyes again. Arvil buried his face in my hair; his body was shaking. Even then, the ships continued to strike at the camp, their sound becoming fainter as they retreated and louder as they returned; I knew they would not stop until every man was dead.

  The island burned behind us. I was choking; I covered my mouth and nose with one hand. Smoke burned my eyes. Sparks glittered among the trees beyond the camp. The parched forest was suddenly ablaze.

  The ships hummed above us, fle
w over the camp, and disappeared in the south. The land around the bay was an inferno; I glimpsed a deer trying to outrace the flames along the shore. The only sound now was the roaring and crackling of the fire. I was afraid to leave the shelter of the rock, even when I was certain the ships were gone. The smoke was soon so thick that I gasped for air, keeping my face close to the water. My legs were numb; I slipped below the water. Arvil held me up.

  The sky rumbled; lightning flashed above the smoke. Arvil quickly pulled me out onto the shore. Thunder slapped against my ears as sheets of rain began to fall. The flames continued to burn for a while. The rain washed over us and beat down on the lake until the fire died.

  The storm broke before dawn. We climbed toward the hut in silence. The path was lined with blackened, burned trees; I saw no sign of life. The hut was a mound of ash and burned logs; Yerlan’s body lay under a black tree trunk.

  I knelt and sifted through the rubble, too stunned and empty to care if I found anything. Almost everything was gone—the clothes, the hides, the baskets of food. I dug through the ash and found one jug of wine, then sat down and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I hated my kind, hated myself.

  Arvil was standing by Yerlan’s corpse. “You may have shown him some mercy,” he said. “At least he didn’t live to see this.”

  Nallei had, without knowing it, saved my life. Her city, or another, had saved me by wanting to be sure that she was dead, and that all the men who knew of her were dead. The gift of my life seemed meaningless now. The struggle to live had been the reason for all of our actions, including the cruelest ones. So that Arvil could live, Yerlan had to die. So that the earth could live, men had to die, before they could threaten Earth again.

  I looked up. Now that the tops of the trees and their leaves had burned away, I could see the camp from the hill. I saw no movement, no sign that anyone had survived. The men must have thought of the ships as a good omen in that brief moment before the rays struck; they had been easy targets.