Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3)

by Sandra Saidak

  “Yarik?” Kalie asked. “Where is your father?”

  Yarik looked up at Kalie, then quickly back at the baby. “He had to go out. He told us not to wake you, and that I had to watch Melora until you woke up.”

  Kalie suppressed a chuckle. “And you’ve done a fine job. But since I’m awake, please go get dressed.” She had just finished cleaning and dressing Melora when Varena came running inside. “Everything’s fine!” she cried. “The joining is happening! Will you be ready, Mother? Will my dress be ready?” Varena looked truly panicked for a moment. When Kalie showed her the dress, finished and perfect, she relaxed. “Oh, thank the Goddess! And thank you and Brenia!” Before Kalie could react, Varena ran back outside.

  “Well, I’m certainly glad that worked out,” Kalie said to her nine month old baby.

  As if the lovers’ reconciliation were an omen, the day unfolded perfectly. Sun shone in a sky of rain-washed blue, with puffy clouds drifting lazily. The nomads arrived for the festivities clean and dressed in their best.

  “Of course, our best isn’t what it used to be,” said Tilka, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of her stained and much mended felt robe. “Some of the men were able to make new armor, and we were able to make new clothes for those who will be married today, but most of us have had to make do with simply bathing and dressing our hair.”

  “Alessa was able to get us the ingredients for an acceptable cleansing paste,” said Kara, sniffing disdainfully. “Although it seems some of the lower borne women will use water and herbs from now on.”

  Unbidden came the memory of the paste made of cedar and frankincense which the women of the parched steppes used to clean themselves. The process involved covering their bodies, waiting for the paste to dry, and then peeling it off, along with anything stuck to it, like body hair or scabs, followed by a vigorous rub-down. While Kalie had preferred it to being dirty, she had longed for an actual bath her entire time with the tribe.

  “There will be many new things for you to try out,” said Alessa. “And you may choose which ones will become part of your life in this new land.”

  “Let us pray that we will not remain long in this strange land of shadows and ghosts,” said Gallia, once the proud wife of a chief. “This time, when our men are victorious, we will return to the steppes and reclaim our home! And our traditions,” she added, glaring at several former slave women, who stood together for reassurance. Frightened they may have been, but they held their unveiled heads high, and looked coolly at Gallia.

  Others, Kalie noticed, looked at Gallia with the gentle patience people reserved for the senile and the mad. After eight days of food and rest, Kalie had feared that Kariik’s people would only be recovered enough to make trouble. Now she saw that most of them were more concerned with making a good impression; with showing off what remained of their wealth, their pride and their honor to those they now considered their hosts. And apparently, they were determined to start by sharing in today’s spring festival as fully—and politely—as possible.

  “Your people celebrate the coming of spring as well, do you not?” Sarella asked the small group of women she had gotten to know as they walked together to the fields for the turning of the earth and the sowing of the first seeds.

  “Yes,” Kara said, over the sounds of flutes, rattles and clapping hands as more people joined the procession. “But it is different for us. We celebrate the day on which we leave our winter camp. Those who survived the winter give thanks to the gods. The priests bless the animals on which we depend, and pray for a safe journey to our summer pastures.”

  “Then we all leave,” said Tilka. “The rest of the day is spent walking.”

  “And if we are fortunate,” said Miona, a former slave, “a soft shower of rain comes with us.”

  Kara glared at the girl but said nothing.

  “We gather flowers as you do,” said a girl, nearly on the verge of womanhood.

  “Will your brides wear flowers today, as ours do?” Sarella asked.

  “Yes,” said Tilka. “If they were able to find enough.”

  They arrived at the first of the fields. Most of the nomads watched with interest as the townspeople performed strange labors in the fields, while the priestess prayed and everyone sang. A few, however, eyed the activities with distaste. Some were clearly offended by the sight of a woman leading sacred rites. Others, Kalie suspected were bothered more by the misguided belief that there was anything sacred about rooting in the dirt like animals—especially when there was urgent business, like fighting a war, at hand.

  But no one disrupted anything, and soon Kalie was called away to help prepare Varena and the others for the joining.

  Four couples were to be joined that afternoon in the sight of the Goddess, the earth and the community. Then, just before sundown, even more couples would be wed in the nomad camp. Each side was invited to witness the festivities of the other. Afterward, there would be feasting, music and dance, and those on both sides who had planned and labored for it, would learn if their attempt at cultural blending would lead to a new future, or the collapse of a vital alliance.

  Sirak suggested that everyone just get drunk together.

  Nara suggested they hide the wine.

  A compromise was reached by watering the wine, and limiting everyone to two cups. This was easy enough, since only by watering it would there be enough to provide even that much for the larger than usual crowd. The nomads had no kumis to contribute, since they had drunk what little they had on the journey, and the batches they had begun as soon as they settled into their new camp would not be ready for some time.

  Kalie found Riyik, Brenia and Martel along the way to where the couples gathered. While Varena had many friends to help her dress, Kalie’s heart soared at the look on Varena’s face when she saw her family—parents, aunt, uncle-by marriage, even an unruly little brother and nephew—who would stand with her when she was joined with her beloved. The fact that Noris had a rather large extended family, who seemed to be fussing a great deal over details, made the arrival of Varena’s family even more important.

  Varena fought to stay still as Kalie wove a colorful garland of spring flowers into her long golden brown hair.

  “I remember the last time you wove flowers into my hair, Mother. When I became a woman and you invented a Ceremony of Womanhood to celebrate it.”

  Kalie smiled. “I didn’t invent it; I merely imported it. Had you been raised here, it would have been as normal to you as the changing of the seasons.”

  “And here I am at my wedding, ah, joining, and it is a far sight better than what would await me on that side of the river.” Varena nodded toward the nomad camp.

  “Hold still!” cried Kalie. She glanced at Brenia who was making last minute adjustments to Varena’s dress. It was made of fine linen, dyed in the vivid green of new grass, and brilliantly embroidered with the darker green needles of pine trees and beads made of tiny shells and lustrous freshwater pearls.

  “And I remember your wedding, Kalie,” Brenia said. “Though only from the back of a crowd of well-wishers. I clapped and trilled until I was hoarse.”

  Kalie nodded. “Hysaak would not allow you to participate in your own brother’s wedding. Not to contribute to the feast, or even to use your tent to prepare me. I remember little of the whole thing, but I know I’d have been far more comfortable in your tent, than wherever it was they put me.”

  There was an awkward silence, as melancholy seized Brenia’s normally serene expression. “But you are here now, at my daughter’s wedding, and it will be far more beautiful than either of ours were,” Kalie said, hugging Brenia tightly.

  “And I could not have a better family to stand with me while I pledge my future to Noris,” said Varena, squeezing in to embrace them both.

  “Careful, you’ll muss your hair!” said Brenia.

  “Can I finally see what I look like?” One of the other brides surrendered the mirror of polished copper, and Varena gazed in wond
er at the beautiful woman looking back at her. While the women to be joined that day began giggling and whispering together, the families enjoyed a brief moment to relax.

  Martel had been explaining the order of events to Riyik, who Kalie was sure already knew, but listened politely anyway. Flashing Kalie a mischievous smile, Riyik walked over as if deeply concerned. “Now, sweetness, I think I know what to do, but in case I forget where I am and try to offer Varena to Noris in exchange for thirty horses…”

  “Don’t worry,” said Kalie. “I’ll kill you.”

  Two senior acolytes began to circulate among the couples, leading them to the field where the ceremony would take place. The families sorted themselves into orderly groups and followed.

  They reached a broad, rolling hillside clothed in fresh spring grass and dotted with orange and yellow wildflowers. At the top of the hill Nara waited, while musicians played behind her. The view was breathtaking: the field stretched to a steep drop to a forest below. The effect was of a flowery green field that met a brilliant blue sky in one endless line.

  Varena and Noris were the youngest to be joined that day, though not by much. The second bride was only a season older than Varena, her partner the same age as Noris. Next came a woman of about twenty seasons, though still a first time bride, joining with a man of nearly thirty. Last, and sparking the most discussion, was a couple in their fifties. Each had been happily married for nearly thirty seasons, but widowed for the past ten. As they had been living together for several years, no one was quite sure why they chose today to make it official, but they were welcomed the same as the younger people.

  Spectators, both local and foreign, began to gather until the field was full. At a sign from Nara, the music stopped, echoing briefly across the open space.

  “On this day of new beginnings,” she began, “we call upon the Goddess in all Her forms to bless the joining of those who are here to create new beginnings of their own. May each couple find joy and laughter in their union, to keep them young at heart as the first of spring. May they know a bountiful harvest of children and all that they build together. May they know contentment as they reach the winter of their lives, and share their wisdom with those who come after.” Then she called the first couple forward.

  Varena strove for dignity as she was quickly surrounded, then pulled forward by Kalie, Riyik, Brenia, Martel, Barak, Yarik, and most of the easterners they had arrived with. There was giggling and good-natured pushing, but the newcomers had been warned that this ceremony was not to be the rowdy affair of a nomad wedding. Noris arrived, somewhat more nosily, surrounded by his family. Riyik stood perfectly straight-faced as the mother of each new partner led their son and daughter to the priestess, who solemnly bound their right hands together with a green dyed cord.

  The ritual was repeated three more times, and then each couple was led to whatever dwelling would be their home for the foreseeable future.

  For Varena and Noris, this was a rather longer walk than the others. Kalie, Riyik and the rest of the entourage, walked with the couple to the old, but well built house which was now theirs. Sanded and repaired on the outside, and freshly whitewashed on the inside, the house was indeed ready for habitation. After fumbling with the door with their right hands—still tied together—Varena finally managed to open it with her left hand. Crossing the threshold together, the new couple ushered their guests inside.

  “How long do they have to keep that rope on?” Durak asked.

  “Until they figure out how to untie the knot without breaking it,” Kalie replied. “Usually that’s when they sit down to their first meal.”

  “Good thing that priestess didn’t tie their legs together, too,” said Borik. “We’d still be helping them get here at sunset.”

  The house consisted of a large main room, with a ladder leading to sleeping quarters on the second floor. A kitchen, with a newly dug storage pit beneath, sat nearby. Wedding gifts filled the house in the form of furniture, cooking utensils, beautiful pottery plates, cups and bowls, and baskets of food. Kalie knew that a new bed of carved wood and a feather mattress waited in the room above, for Riyik and Martel had worked on it all winter. Blankets woven by Kalie, Brenia and their many friends adorned the bed.

  Varena blinked in surprised. “None of this was here the last time I was! I thought it would take days of work just to make the place livable, but it’s all been done for us!” She stared at her new home, the white walls mellow in the afternoon light that came through the uncovered windows, as if she had been brought to the tent of a king.

  “What did you think our families and friends have been doing since we announced our intention to join?” asked Noris.

  Varena, who had been raised in a place too different for her partner to understand, merely shook her head. “But what are we now to do with our days?”

  At that, raucous laughter erupted from everyone, settled and nomad alike. A few people began to make some earthy suggestions, but Norris’s mother loudly announced it was time for the guests to leave. Amid much hugging and well wishing, the families filed out.

  “I thought we were going to share a meal,” Borik grumbled, although less loudly than his stomach.

  “The feasting will begin after the next set of weddings,” Kalie explained. “Which should be starting soon.”

  “Leaders from both sides agreed that we should arrange the timing of the weddings so all who wanted to could attend both,” said Brenia. “The evening will be for feasting, so each side could enjoy what the other had to offer: food, drink, music, dancing—“

  “A good way to bring our two peoples together,” agreed Garm. “And young Sirak may have had the right idea when he suggested we all get drunk together. It’s worked before when warriors have needed to form alliances.”

  “It’s also led to a lot of blood being spilled,” said Brenia.

  “I’m not sure I’d take advice from a boy of thirteen on something this important,” said Martel. “Even if he’s proved himself redeemed in many ways.”

  “He and those like him are the future,” said Riyik. “We’d be wise to listen to them, although I agree that watering the wine was a good idea.”

  As the sun slanted toward the west, the next set of joining began.

  The tribesmen had moved several of their tents to allow a long, smooth path from the forest to the river. Tents and trees were festooned with ribbons and pennants, and everyone was dressed in their best. Here, as before, music filled the air, but it was the heavier sound of drums, shrill whistles and ululations coming from women’s throats.

  As the curious townsfolk watched, a cluster of horsemen emerged from the trees. These, Kalie knew, were the grooms, the men to be married. There were at least twice the number of couples here as in the earlier ceremony. Then, from the largest tent—Kariik’s she realized with surprise—came an equal number of women, robed and veiled from head to toe. Then, from all around, trilling women rushed to surround them as if for protection.

  Kariik stepped forward, dressed in all new clothes—made from local cloth, but sewn in the eastern style. As he opened his mouth to speak, all music and talking ceased.

  “Friends both old and new,” the king began, “We have suffered many hardships to reach this time of rebirth. That those days might be forever behind us, we call upon our gods to witness our commitment to them and the future of our tribe. In the year just past, many have lost mates; many have lost children. Tonight we celebrate new marriages, which will create new families, and strong new ties to our new allies.”

  Kalie winced. Kariik had never been a very good speaker, but he had improved greatly since she had first met him. Still, she hoped he would soon stop talking.

  He did. “Warriors!” he called to the men on horseback. “Claim your brides!”

  What followed was a noisy chaos that Kalie suspected frightened even those of her people who had been prepared for it. The men on horseback charged the group of women, all of whom began screaming and rushing a
round. The horsemen shoved aside the women attendants as each plucked one of the brides from her feet and flung her over his horse. While no one was hurt, it looked dangerous enough. Then each man wheeled his horse and went crashing through the forest, or over rocky hillsides, while the crowd gave a mock chase, laughing and shouting, before returning to the camp.

  “What are they doing?”

  Kalie turned to find a terrified Sarella clutching Kalie’s hand and staring wide-eyed at the scene before her.

  “Looking for an open field to consummate their marriages,” Kalie explained.

  “Why an open field?” asked Sarella.

  “Yes,” said Ilara. “That sounds more like something we would do.”

  “Something about the sky god having to bear witness that the marriage is sealed,” Kalie said. “Afterwards, they will return and the men will feast while the women wait in their tents for their new husbands to come to them, wanting more sex.”

  Sarella and Ilara both made noises of disgust. “Perhaps we can tempt some of the women to join the celebrations,” said Ilara.

  “Perhaps,” Kalie said doubtfully. “Kariik would not dare forbid it, but the women themselves might refuse to go against their traditions.” She looked up and saw Otera, her many followers hovering nearby, watching the proceedings with a kind of fascinated delight.

  “I love how these animals make no attempt to hide what they are,” said Otera, approaching the group. “If you hadn’t decided to stake our entire future on an alliance with these creatures, it would even be amusing.”

  Kalie was about to turn and walk away, when she felt Sarella grip her hand again, but in a different manner. “I find it interesting how you daily become more like the horsemen, Otera,” Ilara said. “But not amusing at all.”

  Otera’s pale skin flushed. “It is you who have become more like them!”

  Kalie looked around at the feast taking shape in the nomad camp. Across the river, in the center of Stonebridge, another feast was being prepared. Kalie experienced a strange sense of double vision. The feasts she had attended for the first eighteen years of her life, merged with those she worked to prepare as a slave on the steppes. Both were happening now. Kalie could choose to help roast whole animals at the fires near her, or cross the bridge and help make salads of spring greens and set out the honey cakes which had been baked earlier in the day. She could feast as the wife of a warrior of Aahk, or as an honored mother of Stonebridge.