Mood Riders

by Theresa Tomlinson

  Cassandra shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Look at the place,” she said, waving her arm to encompass the whole circling bay.

  Myrina saw what she meant. Lush grasses and wild flowers grew in wonderful abundance, where fingerlike spits of land stretched out into the sea, pointing the way toward distant Lesbos. Great clumps of rare wild lavender flourished there and golden fennel, with its green feathery leaves, grew all about the shore. There were delicate white asphodels, and the tallest hypericums that Myrina had ever seen. Then in the distance the curving land broke up into little islands. All around them washed a turquoise sea, streaked with darker blue and patches of purple where the water was suddenly deep.

  Myrina slipped down from her horse’s back. “Yes, I see what you mean,” she said.

  Just at that moment a great fish leaped up from the water and jumped twice. Then another followed as the Moon Riders pointed at them with delight.

  “See,” Penthesilea cried. “Even the fish welcome us here.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Coming of Spring

  THE GATHERING DAY was frantic and exhausting: the Moon Riders tramped through the grasslands, their arms full of wild herbs and flowers. They picked hypericum for wounds and snake bite, bitter rue to strengthen the eyes, small purple flower spikes from the chaste tree that would cool the sweats of older women, and most important of all, the delicate white opium poppy that brought merciful sleep to those in pain.

  Myrina found Cassandra standing amid huge clumps of fennel, still as a statue.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Cassandra shook her head. “Troy,” she murmured. “The Trojan plains that spread down to the sea are full of fennel. The fishermen and boatmen gather fennel stalks to light their lamps at night.”

  “You must miss Troy,” Myrina said. “It is your home. I’ve never lived in one spot, so it is my family I long for, not a place.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “I do miss Troy,” she whispered. “I miss the great golden walls and towers, the fig trees, the tamarisks, and the sacred oak. The little huts of the lower town are built of mud bricks, but such wonderful bricks, for the baked mud is crammed with seashells.”

  “I have seen them,” Myrina agreed.

  “I miss all of that,” Cassandra admitted. Then she looked down, rather ashamed. “I miss Chryseis, but I do not miss my family very much.”

  Myrina, arms full of sharp-scented lavender, bent toward her and kissed her cheek. “Why should you? I do not think they value you as they should.”

  Cassandra smiled. “Nobody ever kissed me like that in Troy,” she said.

  When the gathering was over, a small fleet of fishing boats came from Lesbos and carried the Moon Riders over the sea, with their steeds and their bundles of herbs. Once they’d landed they rode south toward Mytilene, named after the sister of the famous Dancing Myrina.

  The people of this ancient city, founded long ago by the Moon Riders, had never forgotten how their town originated. They gladly provided a fine camping place, plentiful provisions and a warm welcome each winter.

  The Month of Falling Leaves brought cooler weather but Atisha did not allow slackness. Horses must be exercised, dances improved, clothing dyed and mended, ready for the Spring Celebrations; herbs must be dried, pounded, and brewed ready for next year’s supply of medicines.

  In the Month of the Dying Sun, fires were built and slow sad dancing performed, in sympathy with the turning of the year. The Bitter Months followed, bringing snow and hail, but Atisha’s merciless advice on keeping warm was to work harder, run faster, leap higher.

  When at last the first signs of the sun’s returning strength came, a great restlessness seemed to rustle through the Moon Riders’ camp. Suddenly they were packing, ready to go off traveling again, for spring was coming. They’d soon gallop north again, for the Month of New Leaves, with spring romping along behind them.

  Myrina could not wait to get to the Place of Flowing Waters. For just seven days she’d be there with her family again, at the great gathering. She knew from her mirror-gazing that Reseda hadn’t given birth as yet. “I want very much to be there when my sister’s baby is born,” she confided to Cassandra. “But . . . I fear I’ve changed so much. I’ve grown so fast that my tunic needs replacing and my trousers letting down.”

  Cassandra smiled. “They will know their Snake Lady,” she said.

  “And Tomi. I must see Tomi, and make sure that he hasn’t forgotten me. Each time I mirror-gaze, I see him hunting and riding and tending the horses. I’ve never seen him with a girl at his side, but I must remind him again that I’ll marry him, if only he’ll wait.”

  Cassandra looked at her, puzzled. “Does your father not choose a husband for you?”

  Myrina laughed. “No, certainly not! The Mazagardi women choose for themselves, and a Moon Rider is never refused!”

  “In Troy, a father always chooses!”

  “But not for you! Surely you were promised to your sun god as a priestess.”

  Cassandra sighed. “I have broken that promise by going with the Moon Riders. I fear my father may change his mind if he thinks a marriage would be useful or bring more wealth.”

  “Hasn’t the man got enough?” Myrina asked. Then she suddenly realized that perhaps she’d been very rude. “Forgive me,” she muttered. “He is your father.”

  “There’s naught to forgive.” Cassandra was not offended. “You spoke the truth!”

  The lookouts spied the Moon Riders coming and at once a great clamor of pipes and clapping began. Myrina felt great pride in this moment, arriving back among her people an experienced priestess, welcomed and honored by them all.

  Pride turned to wild excitement when she saw Gul; dignity was forgotten as she leaped from the horse’s back, and flung herself into her mother’s arms. Aben hung back, a huge grin on his face, and Myrina caught a glimpse of Tomi standing behind looking hesitant.

  “Father,” Myrina yelled, hugging him.

  “You’ve not forgotten your old pa then.” Aben chuckled.

  Then Myrina turned to Tomi, feeling surprisingly shy. They smiled then kissed, with just a little awkwardness.

  “I’ve not forgotten my promise,” Tomi whispered.

  “I know,” she said, then giggled at the puzzled look on his face, as shyness seemed to melt away. “Where’s Reseda?” she asked, concerned not to see her sister there. “And Hati?”

  “She labors to bring her child into the world,” Gul told her. “Hati is with her, just in case, but Reseda swears that she’s hanging on until her sister returns. You know that it brings good luck to have a Moon Rider present at a birth.”

  “I must go to her,” she said. “I must go at once. I’ll tell Atisha.”

  As she turned back toward the Old Woman she saw Atisha’s bright monkey face bending over the princess with concern. This should be a joyous time for Cassandra, she thought, but where are her family to greet her? Where is her welcome home?

  Then as she watched, a space appeared in the crowd, and people stood back for two armed guards, their tunics bearing the sun sign of Trojan Apollo.

  “We come to escort the Princess Cassandra to Troy,” they announced. A closed litter followed behind, borne by four strong slaves.

  Cassandra hesitated but then bowed her head obediently, giving the reins of her horse to Atisha. She went toward the litter and for a moment Myrina felt that she couldn’t bear to let her go back to Troy and such a loveless reception, but then the curtain in the litter was whisked back and the gentle face of the young priestess Chryseis looked out. Cassandra ran toward her smiling then, her arms outstretched. Myrina sighed with relief. Cassandra would not be friendless in Troy, after all.

  “Right.” She turned back to Gul. “Where are our tents? Where is Reseda?”

  Reseda was breathless and elated when Myrina arrived. The birth was very close and there was no time for greetings. Myrina stooped at once to hold her sister’s hand and there
were only moments to wait before a baby girl slithered out of her mother’s body into the world. Hati worked busily to tie the cord and cut it, then clean the small wriggling body with olive oil. At last the child was ready and handed over not to the mother, but to Myrina.

  “The dance,” Reseda whispered.

  “Me?” Myrina asked.

  “Of course.” Hati laughed. “You are the only Moon Rider here. You must give the welcoming dance; there can be no one better!”

  She took the little warm naked body into her arms and while Hati sang, Myrina gently twirled and turned, rocking her new little niece back and forth, while Gul and Reseda watched in silent respect.

  “Catch the sun,” Gul reminded her, lifting up the tent flap.

  Myrina stepped carefully outside, still rocking and twirling, just as the sun went slipping away in the west. Then she turned the young child around and there was the moon looking down on them, picking up the last of the sun’s rays so that it gleamed pink in the darkening sky, with one glinting evening star behind it.

  Myrina took the baby back inside and handed her to her mother. “She has seen the sun and the moon and the evening star,” she said.

  All the women heaved a great sigh of happiness. “That is a great blessing,” Hati said. “Very lucky and rare; this little one is blessed indeed.”

  “I shall call her Yildiz,” Reseda said, taking her back with eager arms and snuggling her tiny daughter to her breast.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Back to Troy

  OVER THE NEXT two days little Yildiz thrived on the care and attention that she received from her aunt, for Myrina couldn’t put the baby down. “I’ll be going away again so soon,” she protested whenever someone tried to take Yildiz from her. “I’ve got to make the most of my niece before I go.”

  Reseda lay back enjoying the rest that she needed, watching her sister rock the baby. She was tired after the long labor and happy to let Myrina fuss over the child. “I never thought to see you so baby crazed.” She smiled.

  “Nor did I,” Myrina agreed. “But then I never was asked to do the welcoming dance before; she feels special to me.”

  “When your time comes, you’ll make a fine mother,” Reseda told her.

  Although Myrina and her family were wrapped up in the new member of the Mazagardi tribe, they could not help but be drawn into the excited gossip that filled the spring gathering. Sails had been spotted far out at sea, a fleet of fine ships moving up the coast toward the city of Troy. The second wave of news suggested that they’d been recognized as the fleet that Prince Paris sailed away in almost a year ago on his visit to Menelaus in Sparta.

  “I know one who’ll not be delighted at his return,” Myrina murmured.

  “Who? Your friend Cassandra?” Hati was quick to pick up on her meaning.

  Myrina nodded. “She’s filled with dread when her handsome brother is about, though she can’t say why!”

  Hati was thoughtful. “Poor princess,” she murmured. “She’s very sensitive, that one; such a gift will rarely bring happiness, though I’d say that those about her would do well to take notice of what she says.”

  “Ah! They never do,” said Myrina. “In Troy they swear that she is jealous of Prince Paris and put everything she says down to that. They even call her mad . . . which she is not!”

  Hati shook her head. “Poor princess,” she repeated.

  That night, the Lady Chryseis arrived from Troy in a fine curtained wagon drawn by two horses, with a message for the Old Woman Atisha and the Moon Rider Myrina.

  “There’s to be a great feast in Troy this evening to welcome Prince Paris back,” she told them. “Cassandra begs you to come as guests.”

  Atisha agreed at once, though she insisted that she must ride her fine stallion, for she’d long ago forgotten how to ride in a wagon.

  Chryseis turned to Myrina. “Oh no.” She shook her head. “I cannot spare a day and night away from this fine new niece of mine and little Yildiz is best settled here with her mother.”

  Chryseis smiled rather sadly. “Cassandra told me not to press you, but . . . I know that your presence would be a comfort to her.”

  “Hmph!” Hati huffed agreement. “Not so fast with your refusals, my little Snake! From what you told me last night our tiny Yildiz might not be the only one who has need of you.”

  Myrina turned thoughtful at that. She looked across at Atisha, but the Old Woman shook her head, setting a gorgeous new peacock feather into her turban. “The decision is yours, Snake Lady.”

  Suddenly Myrina was smiling wickedly at Hati. “You want to go, Grandmother!” she accused.

  Hati grinned broadly. “I should love to go,” she admitted. “Curiosity was always one of my strengths.”

  “You may come as my companion.” Atisha pushed her hand through her old friend’s arm and they both rounded on Myrina.

  “If you go,” Atisha said, “you go for yourself.”

  “And maybe one other,” Hati added.

  Myrina looked about her. Reseda was up and strong enough now, her body tightening quickly back to its old muscular shape. Reseda and Yildiz didn’t really need her and maybe the neglected princess did.

  “I shall be pleased to come as Cassandra’s guest,” she told Chryseis.

  The priestess of Apollo smiled with genuine pleasure at her decision. “Will you ride in the wagon with me?” she asked.

  Myrina was about to refuse, for horseback was much more comfortable to her, but something in the hesitant invitation made her accept. “Yes please,” she agreed.

  Soon after the sun reached its zenith the wagon set off, with two Trojan guards with swords and short spears in front of it and the two old women riding behind, their bows strung and ready.

  Chryseis pulled herself back inside the wagon. “We’re certainly well escorted.” She smiled.

  Myrina agreed. “Those bringing up the rear are just as fierce as those in front,” she said. “And crafty as jackals. I’d bet on them against your Trojan guards any day. Now tell me please, how was Cassandra received in Troy? Was she welcomed back?”

  Chryseis’s smile vanished and her head drooped to the side. “She was welcomed.” Myrina could see that she was trying to be fair. “But of course there was no great feast in Cassandra’s honor. Priam is suggesting now that as she has broken her promise as priestess to Apollo, she should be willing to marry instead.”

  “Oh no,” Myrina cried. “Cassandra feared that.”

  “Priam is very keen to make some sort of alliance with the Achaean lords.” Chryseis shook her head, clearly unhappy at the idea. “There is news of fearful raiding parties at Ephesus and Miletus. The pirate warrior Achilles swarms mercilessly up from his ships with his Myrmidon soldiers, snatching gold and women. They kill any man who gets in his way, leaving ruin behind, and it’s just that same bloodthirsty man that Priam seeks to appease by offering him Cassandra.”

  Myrina shuddered at the thought, glad that she’d accepted Cassandra’s invitation, but also glad that Atisha and Hati were riding close behind.

  “At least Cassandra has you for her friend,” Myrina generously told the young priestess.

  Chryseis again looked sad. “But not for long,” she said. She drew back the wagon curtains, pointing toward the deep blue sea of the Aegean. “Do you see that island in the distance? That is my home, the Isle of Tenedos. My father, Chryse, is the priest of Apollo in the temple there. He agreed when I was younger to send me for seven years to serve Apollo as priestess at the temple in Troy, but my seven years are almost up. In the autumn I must return to my father and my home.”

  Myrina understood what this must mean. “So when Cassandra returns to Troy next spring, you will have gone.”

  Chryseis nodded. “See there,” she pointed out. “That is Besika Bay.”

  Myrina looked and saw the curved bay filled with tall ships’ masts. “Prince Paris’s ships?”

  “Yes.” The priestess frowned. “No one can understand
why he’s moored there. Our ships usually arrive in the Bay of the City where everyone can watch from the city walls, to wave and cheer, then when important guests have disembarked the ships sail around to Besika for more permanent mooring.”

  “His ships are tall-masted and fine.” Myrina could not help but admire them.

  “Oh yes, and Paris is usually one for making a big entrance, so it’s a bit of a mystery. He’s hidden in Besika overnight, but sent messages to Priam announcing his arrival with an honored guest!”

  “But he hasn’t said who?”

  Chryseis shook her head. “There’s talk that he may have brought King Menelaus back from Sparta for another visit, for some of those masts bear the Spartan standard. Priam will be anxious if that is so.”

  Myrina caught her breath. “Not Achilles!” she whispered. “He’s not brought Achilles to claim Cassandra’s hand!”

  “By Trojan Apollo, I pray not,” Chryseis agreed with feeling.

  At last Besika Bay was left far behind them as they crossed the low-lying marshy lands between the two rivers Scamander and Simois. The dirt track widened and the wagon ran more smoothly over a wide street of stone cobbles. Myrina enjoyed once again the impressive sight of the busy, high-walled city. Chryseis sat modestly back, hidden by the wagon’s curtains as a good Trojan priestess should, while Myrina hung out of the window.

  They rumbled into the citadel through the Southern Gate and up a steady sloping ramp, paved with golden limestone slabs. They left the wagon and horses at the stables and Chryseis showed them into the guesthouse once again. This time it was Atisha’s turn to stare at the luxurious decoration and furnishings. Hati and Myrina smiled to see the Old Woman impressed for once.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Beautiful Woman on a Shopping Trip

  THE MAIN FEASTING hall gleamed with even more bronze and gold than Myrina remembered. It seemed Priam’s wealth had grown noticeably in just one year. They were shown to a table on the women’s side, and Myrina was pleased to see that she could twist around and there behind her on the royal women’s table was Cassandra.