Behold the double-edged Sword of Truth.
A stream of consciousness invaded Sava’s mind –
My Son. My beautiful son. You are destined to die as I did. Shunned as a liar. A deceitful traitor.
WHY? Sava asked the apparition, stunned.
You could not be conceived while I lived. The king would have put you to death as the son of a ‘lying diviner’. I had to come back from the Dark House to make my son live. To carry out my curse against Zoltan who lied and betrayed me. Now he plots to destroy You. Zoltan knows you were born to avenge me.
Are you Sarpedon?
No answer. Only a profound ringing silence. Sava tried again -
How can I defeat Zoltan? He is protected. Would you have me sacrifice myself needlessly, throwing myself against the rocky cliffs of his power? Not just Zoltan but a league of ennarei are with him. They have the support of kings, voivodes and the people.
Still that vast ringing silence. Sava spoke to the wraith again:
Long have I secretly wanted to avenge your death Sarpedon. Long have I wanted to destroy Zoltan and his league of cut throats. But to challenge them is to defy our laws, our traditions. Our rulers. How can I defeat these powers alone? To attack Zoltan is to go against the PEOPLE. They bow low to Velesh, Black Serpent of the Underworld and to Ah-Gin, God of War.
That vast ringing Voice spoke – Your choice is simple – Either you send Zoltan to the Other World or he will send you. The time will come when Zoltan is vulnerable. Give me justice in this world, so that I can go on to the next.
The Voice went on, speaking with deep gravity and Sava listened. Intently. Then his logical mind blurted out – But Sarpedon, I thought you were… Dead?
The Voice stopped. Replaced by that vast echoing silence.
When Sava awoke the faint echo of Sarpedon’s voice still resonated in his ears. And he found that he remembered everything. Everything except the most important part – How to defeat Zoltan. That vital piece of advice had evaporated from his memory like the morning mist on a summer’s day. Without a trace.
I called upon Sarpedon and he came. Was it really him, or just a dream? A trick of the mind?
But the strigoitsa did not return for a long time thereafter. And for this Sava was grateful. He was certain now - I must find a way to weaken Zoltan before he destroys me as he did Sarpedon. My first step is to bring the tribes together for the council. This will strengthen my influence with the nobility and the people.
Coming down out of the mountain range, Sava and his comrades rode on toward Agathyrsia, home of the Blue People. At the border they were confronted by a mystic ring of forbidding stone menhir.
Inside the stone circle the statue of a beautiful young man stared back at them. A wreath of grape clusters crowned his head. The statue’s right hand gripped a thyrsus staff wound with ivy vines and topped with a pine cone.
Naked but for a leopard skin thrown over one shoulder, his expression was arrogant. Almost insolent. Mouth open as if insatiable. The statue’s insouciant expression exuded erotic virility.
“Lo – Dionysos, whose worship brings madness.” Vuk’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“The forbidden god.” Toxaris breathed.
“On pain of death.” Sava added.
The statue’s left hand rested on what appeared to be the stump of a tree around which a serpent was coiled. On closer inspection Sava saw that the `stump’ was actually a giant phallus.
“Hssst - see His symbol.” Toxaris pointed at the serpent coiled around the phallus. “This `wine god’ is but another mask for the Black Serpent.”
Beyond the menhir a narrow trail led into the Land of the Blue People and they followed it.
“Tell me about the Agathyrsi.” Sava asked the Neuri that evening as they sat around the campfire roasting fresh shot hares.
“The Agathrysi are named for Agathrysus, eldest of the three sons of Herakles and Mata Drakaina. We call them the `Blue People’ because of their love for blue.” Vuk said.
“What is the name of their king?” Sava asked.
The king of Agathyrsia is called Spargapeithes. A wise and vigilant ruler so I hear. He has to be. Many come to steal or trade for their gold. Gold is so prolific in Agathyrsia, the Blue People have only to dangle sheepskins in their fast-flowing rivers and the gold particles cling to the fleece. That is how they collect it.”
“Clever.” Sava nodded.
Aye, stories of the Golden Fleece are legend. Because their land borders on Thrakia and is so close to Greece, the Agathyrsi have been heavily influenced by those peoples.” Toxaris said.
“How is that?” Sava asked.
“The Agathyrsi have left their Skythian nomadic ways and become farmers. They grow grain to make bread and grapes for wine. Very potent wine so I hear. They worship the wine god Dionysos. But some still revere the ancient Skythian god, Sabazios, Horseman of the Skies.”
“The worship of Dionysos is prohibited on pain of death in Royal Skythia and Sauromatia.” Sava said.
Toxaris nodded. “We Neuri also forbid his worship. Women are especially attracted to this wine god. The Greeks call them Maenads - Mad Women. They dance, drink and take drugs until they work themselves into a frenzied state. Then they commit depraved sacrifices and engage in wild sex orgies.”
“That last part doesn’t sound so bad.” Borna’s salacious white smile gleamed through the flickering firelight.
“Be warned brother,” Toxaris said. “If the Maenads catch someone not initiated into the god’s cult, they go into a fit of madness. They tear the flesh off his bones and eat him alive.”
“What good is a god who drives people out of their wits?” Sava asked. “The Royal Skythians executed the sage Anacharsis for the sin of worshipping foreign gods. Though I think it was wrong to do so.”
“Who was Anacharsis?” Borna asked as the campfire flames crackled and shot up into the night dark air crowned with stars.
“Anacharsis was brother to King Saulius and the wisest sage of Royal Skythia. Anacharsis traveled all over the world to gain knowledge. The Greeks still remember him for his insight and wit. But if you say Anacharsis’ name in Royal Skythia they pretend he never lived. His very name is anathema.” Like Sarpedon.
“What things do the Greeks remember Anacharsis for?” Borna asked.
“He liked to tease the Greeks. They think themselves so civilized. Anacharsis went to the Olympic games and said of them – `Only the Greeks would take those who cannot compete and make them the judges of those who can’.”
“Heh. True”. His companions grunted. Though they had never seen the Olympics they needed no convincing that a Skythian’s observation must be true. It was a strange quirk of human nature after all to put the lesser over the better.
“And the Greeks were not insulted by that?” Borna’s skeptical white smile flashed in the dark light.
“Nay the Greeks just laughed. It was the Greeks who initiated Anacharsis into the mysteries of the goddess Kybele, Great Mother of the Mountains. Anacharsis loved Kybele so much that he vowed to introduce her worship into Skythia. And so he did. But then his brother, King Saulius heard of it. When he came and saw that it was true, he killed Anacharsis on the spot. Shot him through the heart with an arrow.”
“Killed by his own brother for worshipping a foreign god? But Royal Skythia already has many gods, what difference does one more make?” Toxaris wondered.
“Aye. It was a great loss because Anacharsis spent years traveling and gathering knowledge from the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Phyrgians, the Hittites and the wisest men of his age. He could have taught us much. But he never got the chance.” Sava replied.
Although he did not say it aloud, in his heart Sava idolized Anacharsis. He had always dreamed of traveling the world in search of knowledge and wisdom. His great wish was to pierce the veil of the Great Mystery. Of Life and Death, of the Gods and the Fall of the Sons of Man. But he was also determined not to make the same mistake that A
nacharsis did.
Nay. I will just make different mistakes, like robbing kurgans, that infernal inner Voice said. That sin alone would definitely get me an arrow through the heart if the Black Cloaks ever catch up with me.
“A shame Anacharsis’ voice was snuffed out.” Vuk commented.
“He was not the only one killed for worshipping foreign gods.” Sava said. “Skyles was the king of Royal Skythia and he was beheaded for worshipping Dionysos. Skyles would go to Gelonus and worship the wine god there in secret with the Greeks. But Skyles was betrayed.”
“I hear the Greeks and Thrakians go mad over this Dionysos, also over Kybele. Every year many thousands are initiated into their Mysteries. His devotees claim Dionysos enters into them and so fills them with His divine powers that they can perform miracles. His followers believe they become as the gods.” Vuk’s fervent voice merged with an explosion of sparks from the campfire.
“I would like to see that with my own eyes.” Sava said. “But to do it by getting crazy drunk? Maybe it works for some. I would probably just fall asleep.”
“The Royal Skythians have grounds to fear this goddess Kybele, whom Anacharsis worshipped. Her priests practice cruel and bloody rites. I am surprised a wise man like Anacharsis became so enamored of Kybele.” Vuk said.
“How is that?” Sava asked.
“Kybele’s male devotees go into a mad frenzy. They cut off their own sex organs as sacrifices to the goddess. They make themselves into eunuchs!Then they run through town and throw their amputated pudenda through a neighbor’s window.” Vuk’s voice was low, disgusted.
This revelation brought raised eyebrows. The men all grimaced.
“That settles it. I will never worship Kybele.” Borna announced.
“Madness. Pure madness. What could make a man do that of his own free will?” Sava asked aloud. “Some Skythian ennerei are mutilated like that as children. Although with us it is done in secret.”
“You see how blood sacrifice and mutilation always feature in Black Serpent’s rituals? Kybele and Dionysos are just more masks for that demon vampir.” Toxaris was vehement.
“Our rulers were wise to ban these foreign gods. We already have too many bloodsuckers as it is. We Sauromatae have no fortified cities, no walls to shield us from attack. We could make no defense if we were drunk or drugged out of our minds like these mad devotees of Dionysos and Kybele. Even in celebration, we can never completely drop our guard.” Sava spoke to the bright crackling fire as it leapt toward the dark heavens.
Chapter 5 – The Wine God
Pity me! Spare me Mother!
For I am Pentheus your own son!
But she was foaming at the mouth,
Her crazed eyes rolling with frenzy.
She was mad, stark mad,
Possessed by Dionysos.
Ignoring his cries,
She seized his left arm at the wrist.
Planting her foot upon his chest, she pulled,
Wrenching away his arm at the shoulder
For the god put inhuman power into her hands –
Euripedes, Bacchae c. 450 BC
“We are being watched.” The Neuri voivode Spartak flicked his chin toward a puff of smoke rising from a nearby forested hill.
No one spoke. It was the morning of their first full day of travel through Agathyrsia. With the Voivode Spartak in the lead, the horses moved on at a trot. Grey, foreboding smoke signals followed their progress.
Ears pricked, eyes bulging, Spartak’s black charger shied suddenly. The horse jerked his head to the right, staring at the dark undergrowth that shrouded the trees.
Sensing hidden, predatory eyes, the horses were increasingly jumpy. Necks arching. Breath huffing. Snorting. Pulling on the bit.
Eyes peeled on the thick woods and bushes surrounding the trail, the group trotted on. Then they came upon a sight which made them halt and gaze in awe.
Hanging from the branch of a massive oak tree was a golden fleece. Flayed from a huge ram, the fleece glowed, scintillating in the light. It was saturated with gold dust.
Carved into the tree was the lifelike profile of a giant drakon. Serpentine body coiled up the trunk, the drakon’s head glared possessively over the golden fleece.
“Look at the size of that drakon.” Borna whistled low. “So real, as if a spirit lives in it.”
At that moment an armed war party burst out of the forest. There could be no doubt who they were. The men’s long blonde hair was dyed blue, accentuating their sky blue eyes. Their chests, faces and biceps were extravagantly tattooed with mythical animal designs all in a deep indigo blue.
The Blue People.
Heavy torques of exquisite gold work wreathed their throats. Sinuous golden serpent bracelets wrapped around muscular tattooed arms. The intricately tooled bridles and breast straps of their horses were inlaid with gold.
The Agathyrsi warriors’ leggings of finely dressed leather were belted with exquisitely crafted belts made with golden links. Their tall boots were imprinted with blue geometric designs. They were also heavily armed with swords, bows and arrows, double headed axes and long lances.
The unique horses of the Blue People caught Sava’s eye. They were tall and long-legged with large sensitive eyes. Their horses’ conformation was angular and narrow, giving them the appearance of great endurance. Their coats were pied with spots and splashes of color - black, white, bay and chestnut, complemented by thick rippling manes and long wavy tails to the ground.
Sava raised his right hand, palm up in peace. The warrior with the most extravagant blue tattoos moved his horse forward.
“Come to steal our golden fleece? Who are you and what is your business in Agathyrsia?” He spoke in heavily accented Skythian.
“I am Sava, son of Skopasis, Voivode of Sauromatia. We come bearing a message for your ruler, Spargapeithes. Darius of Persia has invaded Thrakia. I am sent by King Raymaxos to summon the Agathyrsi to a council of war. I ask that you take us to King Spargapeithes.”
The leader exchanged a few words with his men, then nodded and jerked his head toward the road ahead.
“Come.”
The Agathyrsi border guards surrounded them front and back, then pushed the horses into a gallop. They carried the drakonis emblem of Skythian royalty, a metal drakon’s head mounted on a pole with a long streaming sock attached that trailed in the wind like a serpent’s tail. The wind blowing into the drakon’s open mouth as they galloped made an eerie hissing roar warning everyone to get the hell out of the way.
The path led to a sparkling fast-running river. The war party galloped along the riverbank, two horses abreast. The horses thundered by a village of white stone houses surrounded by fields of grape vines, fruit trees and grain crops. Golden sheepskin fleeces hung from trees along the riverbank. Barking dogs ran down to the road and people stopped their daily tasks to watch, but the Agathyrsi patrol did not slow. The horses pounded along the narrow road, the drakonis hissing its eerie sibilant warning.
After rounding a bend in the river they saw before them a wide green valley dotted with houses. The scouting party slowed at the entrance to a stone-walled enclave. On each side of the gate stood a statue of the Great Horseman, Sabazios. On the left Sabazios aimed a spear at a massive serpent which his horse trampled underfoot. On the right the god sat astride a magnificent charger, his right hand raised in salute.
Without hesitation, the Agathyrsi horsemen poured in through the gate toward a palace of white stone. Not huge but still extravagant by Skythian standards. Within moments, the king of the Blue People emerged.
Spargapeithes wore a gold diadem of woven ivy leaves. His chest and arms were even more intricately tattooed than his warriors. He had the same startling sky blue eyes. His long golden red hair was elaborately braided. On the king’s neck, arms and fingers was a fortune in extravagant gold jewelry inlaid with scintillating gems. The King of the Blue People raised his right hand in which he held a thyrsus topped by a golden horse head, ma
rking him as a devotee of Sabazius.
Sava leapt off his horse and went down on one knee. With bowed head Sava pressed palm to heart.
“I bid you welcome strangers.” King Spargapeithes said.
“I am Sava son of Voivode Skopasis of Sauromatia. I bear an important message for you from King Raymaxos.” Sava swept his arm toward Brata and the Neuri on their stamping black horses. “These are my companions whom I am proud to call my friends.”
As he introduced each one individually, they dismounted and did obeisance, with the exception of Toxaris. As a queen in her own right she did not bow but inclined her head and nodded.
“What brings you to Agathrythsia?” Spargapeithes asked when the formalities were done.
“King Darius is approaching Skythia with a great army. We have come to summon you to a war council in Royal Skythia.”
“Ah, we have received desperate messages from the Getae about this invasion. Come, Queen Barkida and my court will want to discuss this.”
“And our animals sire?”
“Your horses and dogs will be well looked after in my stables.” The king motioned to some of his guards to take the horses.
They all dismounted and followed Spargapeithes, with the exception of Brata who nodded at the rest to go ahead. He would take the two dogs to the stables, for without a familiar person to lead him, Silvan would not leave Toxaris.
Inside, the palace walls were alive with colorful life-size paintings. Even the high arched ceiling featured scenes from Agathrysi life and myth. Lifelike teams of spirited horses harnessed to chariots raced in a circle around the great hall. Sava noticed the striking image of a man playing a lyre and singing. He was surrounded by animals enchanted by his music.
On a raised dais at the end of the great hall were two golden thrones inlaid with jewels. A beautiful woman wearing a sleeveless dress of white linen revealing her ample breasts sat the throne on the right.
Wine God's Sorcery: The Horse Lords Page 3
