Chants to Persephone: The Future of the World Hangs on a Knife's Edge - and Only a Human Sacrifice Can Save It

by Jennifer Macaire

  Macedonians were full of sayings, some of them better than others. Today, Alexander wasn’t in the mood to joke, so he just looked at me sourly and said, ‘If time does away with wise sayings, it’s because no one’s listening any more.’

  We left the road and entered the forest. Alexander led us deeper and deeper until we came to another stream. Night had fallen, and I could hardly see a thing. We splashed into the water and waded downstream. We moved slowly. The stream was wide and shallow, and the banks were low. Tree branches twisted overhead in an impenetrable canopy. Our horses picked their way carefully along the stream’s bed, their hooves splashing quietly. It seemed hours passed before the stream wound into a reed-choked swamp, and we finally climbed out of the water.

  As we left the cover of the trees, two stags bounded across the meadow. The moon had just risen, making their antlers gleam. One of the deer stopped and turned, facing us. I caught my breath. There are few things as majestic as a huge stag in the moonlight. His breath left his nostrils in white puffs, and his eyes were deep, liquid pools of darkness. His coat was ticked with silver, making him look like a statue cast in metal. Time was suspended as we stared at each other. No one moved. Then Cerberus woke up. He’d been dozing on Paul’s lap. He saw the stag and scrambled down off the horse, landing with an ‘ooof’. Then he pointed his nose at the deer and bayed.

  It broke the spell. The deer spun around on slender legs and leapt gracefully into the darkness, and we climbed wearily off our horses.

  With a sigh, I unsaddled and brushed my mount. I hobbled him, making sure he couldn’t run away. Then I helped Paul with his pony. Axiom made a fire in the cover of a small thicket and we dried our boots. We gnawed on strips of salted meat and shared some dried figs and apples. We were well hidden, so we left the fire burning to dry our clothes. Alexander, Nearchus, and Axiom took turns standing guard all night. I felt secure knowing they were there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  We left before the sun had fully risen. Sparkling white frost covered each blade of grass, and the air had a pale, blue look to it that promised snow. We made our way back to the road and set off at a gallop. Each time we stopped, we would hear the drums. The sound hurried us along. We reached the top of the highest hill just before midday. We could see the plains below us, chequered with farms and criss-crossed with paths and streams. The forest was behind us now.

  Snow began to fall. Great white flakes floated in the air like dove feathers settling slowly on the ground as if making themselves comfortable.

  Alexander made us gallop until we reached the foothills, then we slowed to a walk. The snow made visibility poor, but Alexander seemed to be looking for something in particular. Each time he passed a farm or settlement, he inquired as to who lived there. Most of the time he just nodded and motioned to us to continue. The farms were rare and the settlements too small to be called villages.

  By the time evening came, I felt exhausted and numb with cold. We rounded a bend and arrived at another farm, its entrance marked by stone pillars. Alexander reined in his horse and stared at the stone marker in the road. A symbol was carved in it. I thought it looked vaguely familiar.

  We passed between the pillars. On the ground was an antique cattle guard consisting of a large ditch with iron rods laid over it at wide intervals. Boards leaned up against the fence. Axiom climbed down from his horse, placed the boards over the rods so the horses could cross, then put them back. The road was straight and led directly to the farm buildings. A slave ran out to meet us, and led us to his master.

  The owner of the farm was a wealthy Roman who had settled permanently in Gaul. He traded in wine, and the shipment we’d burned was partially his property. To prove it, he showed us the wax seals on the amphorae stored in his barn. They were the same symbol I’d seen on the stone gatepost and matched the wax seal from one of the amphorae of wine we’d burned, and that Alexander had kept with him.

  The Roman invited us into his house and sent his slaves to fetch us some hot, spiced wine. As I sipped it, I glanced around the living room. It was lit by oil lamps, and the walls were covered in beautiful frescoes. The house had Roman and Gallic features; the main part of the downstairs was taken up by a kitchen and a living room. The living room was comfortable, with low, Roman-style sofas and rich rugs on the floor. The house had mica windowpanes, but the wooden shutters were closed against the darkness and the cold. Inside, it was warm and cosy. I noticed the floor was warm beneath my feet, and I realized that the house was heated Roman-style. Underneath the tiled floor were clay pipes carrying hot water. I turned my attention back to Alexander and the Roman, who were discussing the attack and our escape.

  ‘It’s a pity about the wine, to be sure,’ the Roman said. ‘I invested heavily in that shipment. But you say you managed to save the silver?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll give you instructions to lead you to the place we buried it,’ said Alexander.

  His wife was sitting quietly in the corner of the room. Next to her was a basket made of finely woven birch branches full of skeins of multi-coloured wool, and she was busily sorting them. A young girl was helping her, and I wondered if she were a daughter, until I caught sight of the telltale gold bracelet around her ankle. A slave. I turned back to the Roman who was telling Alexander that he’d always been afraid of raiders.

  He insisted that we stay the night.

  ‘I have a bathhouse that rivals anything in Rome,’ he said proudly. ‘You are more than welcome to sleep in our guest quarters. We have plenty of room.’

  I sat up straight. I was already imagining washing the grime from my hair and body. Sheer bliss. A smile started to curve my lips, and my eyes grew starry.

  ‘No,’ said Alexander firmly. I uttered a shriek, making the Roman and his wife jump, but my husband didn’t even glance at me. ‘I would leave my tired horses here and take fresh ones. If you could spare some bread and cheese, we could leave in half an hour.’ I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. I thought I’d probably cry in a minute. The tiled floor was so warm beneath my feet!

  Surprisingly, the Roman’s wife stood up to protest. ‘You can’t leave before morning. Look at the boy; he’s exhausted. If you set out now he’ll fall and hurt himself,’ she said reasonably. ‘How old is he? He looks to be about ten. A handsome lad,’ she added. ‘Is he your slave?’

  ‘He’s my son,’ I said angrily, then winced. Alexander’s warning look hit me too late. Paul’s hair was jet black, whereas mine was white-blonde. He looked nothing like me any more. Nearchus had even smeared walnut juice over Paul’s face and arms, turning his skin tan. He looked like an exotic Persian boy with bright blue eyes, black hair, and smooth brown skin. Even his eyebrows and eyelashes were dyed black. Axiom proved to be an expert at dying hair. It was a shock every time I looked at Paul, but hearing him called a slave had made me forget my caution.

  ‘Your son?’ The woman’s eyes widened. She was too tactful to say anything else about the matter. ‘I propose you stay for the night. Tomorrow morning you can leave with fresh horses. I’ll give orders to the cook to prepare a meal.’ She looked at me and smiled. ‘I suppose you would like to use the bathhouse?’

  That did it. I practically threw myself on the ground in front of Alexander. ‘Please, don’t make me go outside again in the cold tonight,’ I begged. ‘We can stay just for the night, and leave tomorrow, early. Please? We’ll be safe here,’ I added.

  ‘Of course you will!’ The Roman stood up and clapped his hands. ‘Yovanix, take our honoured guests to the bathhouse and prepare their rooms.’ A slave came in and motioned us to follow him.

  ‘Our baggage …?’ said Axiom nervously.

  ‘Will be taken care of. You’ll find it in your rooms. I’ll prepare a hot meal for you, come into the dining room when you’ve finished bathing.’ The woman spoke with such a warm voice that I felt welcome right away. She was about my age, I guessed, younger than her husband. A second wife perhaps? Her hair was dark brown and intricately cu
rled and braided. Her figure was lissom and, when she stood, I could see a little round belly. Four months pregnant, I guessed. She caught my glance and her smile widened. ‘In five months we shall be blessed by the Mother,’ she said, her hand cupping her belly.

  I nodded, although I was unfamiliar with that expression. Blessed by the Mother? I forgot everything, though, when I saw the bathhouse. It consisted of a sauna, a changing room, a cold bath, an exercise room, and a warm bathing pool. Bliss!

  First we stripped. Slaves took our clothes, and I hoped I’d never see my dirty linen shift again. Then we went into the sauna and got sweaty. There was a bucket with a dipper to put water on the hot rocks and make steam. Soft soap was there, and we rubbed it all over our bodies. It was lye soap, so I used it sparingly, preferring the clay from another bucket. Then we rinsed off with buckets of warm water. After, we stepped into the cold bath, then went into the heated pool. The slaves poured perfumed oil in it, making us smell like lavender sachets. We sat, soaking in the pool, our knees touching as it was crowded with all six of us. We couldn’t stop grinning, though. It was wonderful.

  I felt human again.

  Alexander and I were the last to leave the pool. Everyone else had left when the smell of roasting meat came to our nostrils.

  Alexander smiled at me. His eyes, half-closed, looked decidedly sexy. Wet hair curled around his face in ringlets. In the light of the lamp it looked nearly dark. Only a few bright strands of gold gave away its true colour. He needed a shave. For three days he’d been without one, and there was rough stubble on his cheeks interrupted here and there by the odd scar.

  We circled around each other, drifting closer and closer, until our bodies were touching. I shivered as our thighs brushed. His hands cupped my face and we leaned into each other. The water buoyed us up. Weightless, I wrapped my legs around his hips. We made love slowly, with hardly a ripple, our eyes closed, each movement languorous. I put my mouth on his shoulder and bit gently. There was a moment of intense pleasure, when my muscles seemed electrified, and a pulsing was all I could feel. Nothing else existed. Alexander grasped my buttocks and held me tightly. His breath quickened and he moaned softly, thrusting into me.

  Afterwards, he let his head tip backward until it rested on the side of the pool. I felt myself slipping into a boneless relaxation. There was a moment when I needed quiet, when my body was still caught in the glow that comes after sex. I loved to feel Alexander’s arms around me then. Alexander always fell asleep for a few minutes. I kissed his mouth and eyelids. Our bodies were half lying in the water, half on the stairs of the pool. The warm water was black in the darkness; flames from the torch tipped the ripples with bright gold. The shadows were very deep. We lay in one. Only the water droplets sparkled in our hair. Alexander’s lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes, his magnificent parti-coloured eyes, and grinned at me.

  ‘I would give you the world,’ he said sleepily, ‘if you asked for it now.’

  ‘I’m too tired to ask for anything,’ I replied. ‘I think I’m even too tired to crawl out of the water. Maybe I’ll just sleep here on the steps, with my head on your chest.’

  He chuckled, tickling my ear with the sound. ‘I’m too hungry to stay here, and besides, I’m getting wrinkled.’

  ‘I feel so blessedly clean,’ I sighed.

  ‘Inside and out,’ he agreed with a leer.

  If I’d had any energy left at all, I would have dunked him.

  We ate dinner with the Roman’s wife. I inquired after her husband, and she told us that he had been tired after a long day and had gone to bed. He would see us in the morning before we left.

  We nodded, thanking her for waiting up for us, but we were so weary our conversation lagged. Paul left the table early after stuffing himself with roast goose. Axiom followed; he was yawning widely and could hardly keep his eyes open.

  Nearchus fell asleep with his head in his plate, getting gravy all over the tablecloth and in his hair. I wasn’t sure what to do. Our hostess seemed as much at a loss as I was. What was the polite formula for waking up a guest who fell asleep at the dinner table?

  A slave trotted over with a basin of warm water. The woman leaned over and gently tapped Nearchus on the shoulder.

  ‘Arrgh, what is it?’ he cried, leaping up, tipping over his chair, and staring blindly about. His knife was in his hand. He blinked at it before putting it down. The slave washed the gravy off him, and Nearchus apologized profusely to the Roman’s wife. ‘I think I was a soldier too long,’ he said, and staggered off to bed.

  I turned to the woman and, dredging up the last of my energy and manners, asked her what her name was. I remembered her husband was called Julius, but I didn’t remember hers. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I added, ‘I usually have a good memory.’

  ‘My name is Seleninonvorax,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘But my husband calls me Selena, as do all my friends.’

  ‘Selena, the moon,’ said Alexander.

  The woman twitched. ‘That’s right.’ She smiled then. ‘You look very tired,’ she said to Alexander. ‘Why don’t you let me show you to your room?’

  He looked at me and frowned. All the colour was slowly draining from his face. ‘I feel odd,’ he said, a little breathlessly. He stood up shakily. ‘Ashley?’

  I tried to focus on his face, but my vision dwindled to a pinpoint of light, and I felt the floor hit me on the side of my face. ‘Hey, not fair …’ I heard myself saying in English, and then all was darkness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke some hours later. I blinked, trying to remember who I was, where I was, and what had happened last. There was a pool of light near my head. I craned my neck and managed to see that it came from a window. The sunlight was pinkish and gave no warmth. It was the cold light of an early winter’s morning.

  For some reason I couldn’t move. This perplexed me. Then I realized my hands were tied behind my back, and my legs seemed to be bound to my hands. I arched backward, thanking every god I could remember for my limberness. My hands fluttered like bird’s wings behind me, searching for the knots on my heels. I found them and started to worry them loose.

  I struggled to get free, all the while frantic about Paul, Alexander, Axiom, and Nearchus. Where was everyone? Why was I alone? Where was I? The knots were tight, but I was patient and managed to hook my thumb under a loop. It was just a matter of time until my legs were free. Then I untied my hands.

  I walked over to the window and looked out. The sun had just cleared the horizon. A man carried a load of firewood toward the kitchen. A woman tossed grain to geese in a pen. Another woman swept last night’s snowfall from the porch. I tiptoed to the door and tried to open it. It was barred from the outside. I pushed, but it didn't budge.

  I went back to the window. The tiled roof was steep, there was no windowsill, and the ground below me was a flagstone terrace, newly swept clean of snow. There was no mattress in my room to use to break my fall, but I did have a long piece of rope that had been wrapped around my wrists and ankles. I tied the rope to the stout wooden door and lowered myself down the roof. It was a scary descent. I’d waited until there was no one in sight, and now I slithered as quickly as I dared to the ground. The rope wasn’t long enough so I had to drop the last few feet. I landed in a crouch and looked around. Then I bolted for the hedge I’d spied from my window. I hid in the bush and peered back at the house. No one stirred.

  I looked at the ground. My footprints in the fresh snow led straight to my hiding place. Damn! I went back to the house, walking backward, placing my feet in my footprints the best I could. When I reached the house, I looked for a way in. I had just passed the corner when I heard a voice. I pressed myself close to the wall. It was the Roman, and it sounded like he was just over my head. I risked a glance upward. There was a balcony above me, and though I couldn’t see him, I could hear him perfectly.

  ‘Selena, did you see our guests this morning?’

  ‘No, I believe they left at first ligh
t.’

  ‘Did they leave their address? I must dispatch Antonis to see if the silver is where the man said it was. I would have wished to see him again before he left.’

  ‘You should have made an effort to stay with us for dinner.’

  ‘I know,’ he sounded sheepish. ‘But I was so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I would have made a pitiful spectacle of myself falling into my soup.’

  ‘That’s all right. The man left his address, so you can send him a message if you so desire.’

  ‘A handsome group they were too,’ said the man reflectively. ‘I thought the shorter man was quite beautiful.’

  Alexander would have hated to hear himself referred to as ‘the shorter man’.

  ‘I did think he was handsome,’ said the woman. ‘But I thought the woman strange, didn’t you?’

  ‘Strange? In what way?’

  ‘I don’t know, nothing I could really tell you about, exactly. Perhaps it was her eyes. They were so cold.’

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean. But a lovely face and stunning hair.’

  ‘Anyone can get that colour, it’s quite unnatural, I assure you,’ said Selena with a little laugh.

  I wanted to cry out, ‘Hey! It’s my real colour!’ I didn’t. I wondered if the man knew that his wife had deliberately put drugs in my food to make me sleep, and if she had done the same to everyone else, including him.

  I poked my head around the corner and saw the front door. It was standing open. With a quick look inside to make sure the servants were all in the kitchen, I darted in and ran silently up the stairs. There was only one door with a bolt on it, mine. The three others were simply latched shut.

  I opened one door, and looked inside, searching for my companions. The room was furnished Roman-style with a bed, a low couch, a large trunk, a dressing table with a bronze mirror, and nothing else. I checked all the other rooms; they were all empty except for the furniture. By the time I’d closed the last door behind me, my heart was pounding painfully. I was standing in the doorway of a small bedroom, when I heard the Roman calling to his wife, ‘I’m going to send Antonis and Claudius to fetch the silver. I’ll see you for the noon meal.’