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

  She made a face. ‘You lived in a harem. You don’t know where you were born. Were you a slave?’

  ‘No.’ I smiled wryly. ‘Unless you consider most women slaves. I wasn’t anything, really.’

  ‘Fine, you don’t have to tell me anything.’ She sounded hurt.

  I plucked at a thread in my skirt. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not used to speaking to anyone about myself. I never thought my life was of interest to anyone. If I sound curt it’s because I’m jealous of you.’

  ‘You’re jealous of me?’ She laughed aloud. The men turned to stare at us, their eyebrows raised. Phaleria was roaring with laughter now. Tears ran down her face. ‘You, jealous of me?’ she kept saying.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s just that I’m jealous of you.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I grew up on this boat and have no friends, only my crew. You seem so sure of yourself, so confident. And you have such a handsome husband and son.’

  ‘I have two sons and a daughter,’ I told her. Loneliness and missing my children made my throat hurt suddenly. ‘I miss them terribly.’

  ‘What are their names?’

  ‘Chiron and Cleopatra.’ I sighed. ‘I want to find Alexander’s soul and then go home.’

  ‘Where do you live?’ Phaleria’s face was shadowed. The sun was sinking below the horizon now. An orange light filled the sky.

  ‘Alexandria, near Egypt,’ I said.

  ‘How lovely it must be there.’

  ‘It is. You’re welcome to come and stay with us. You would like it there. You can bring your boat if you sail through the Strait of Gibraltar.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The Pillars of Hercules?’ I ventured.

  ‘Oh. Strong currents there.’ She was pensive. ‘My father and I sailed to Carthage once. That’s a strange place. They sacrifice youths.’

  ‘How terrible,’ I said.

  We sat in silence. Phaleria squinted at the setting sun, while I watched Paul on the crow’s nest. It was little more than a plank. He sat on it and wrapped his arms and legs around the mast. The wind died. The lull usually lasted until the first stars came out, then a new gust of wind rose, and the night crew took over.

  I sometimes woke and saw Kell, our navigator. He would stand by the bow and hold his navigational instruments toward the stars as if he were casting magic, as if the shining brass and silver instruments were offerings to the night and to the constellations.

  Everyone slept together in the cabin: Alexander and I, Paul and Axiom, Nearchus and Demos, and Yovanix, who slept huddled in the doorway. There was no room for privacy, no room for making love, although soft, reassuring whispers rustled through the night. The stars and moon shone into the latticed windows, making small dappled squares on our faces as we slept. It had been a tranquil voyage so far.

  The boat had a large deck, and there were the usual coils of rope, barrels of pitch, and blankets to sit on or wrap up in when needed. Laundry hung on a small clothesline and flapped gaily in the breeze. A pen full of chickens doubled as a bench along the port rail.

  The wooden deck planks were unvarnished, smooth, and scrubbed with caustic soda so the wood was white as bone. The sails were made of linen; they were heavy, large, and unwieldy, but the rigging was simple. The boat wasn’t particularly fast or manoeuvrable. It was a trading ship, with oars for everyone in case of a dead calm – and for when we arrived in port.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  ‘Row, row, row, your boat,’ I sang gaily. Alexander made a face at me, and Nearchus grinned and chimed in. He remembered the words. Alexander did too, but I’d forbidden him to sing. His voice could curdle milk, and we were too close to shore. I told him we should try to make a good first impression.

  We rowed more or less in unison. Alexander beat time with his foot while the rest of us sang Row, row, row your boat! Paul and Phaleria were on deck with Kell, and everyone else was pulling their oar.

  Mine splashed into the water, and I jerked it backward to avoid tangling with Axiom’s. Cold salt water splashed into the porthole and soaked my arm. I shivered. The water was green and icy. In a little while, we would arrive at the first of our stops, a small village on the shores of modern Denmark. As I peered through the wide porthole, I saw tall trees and a rocky shoreline where the bustling city of Esbjerg would one day spread. I pulled at my oar ineffectually, and managed to splash Vix, who was sitting right behind me. He didn’t seem to mind.

  The waves were choppy in the bay. We hadn’t yet reached the shelter of the little island, and the wind was coming off the land, making the sails useless. Little white caps crested on the top of the green waves and foam decorated our oars with lace. I managed to row correctly for a while, then my mind started to wander and I lost my rhythm.

  We headed directly toward a large stone pier. From what I could see, three other boats were tied to it and looked like Roman trading ships. Fishing boats bobbed further out in the harbour; they were coming back in before the sun set. We’d timed our entrance with the tide, and now our boat seemed to be pulling a whole flotilla in its wake. As soon as we were close, Phaleria’s men took over, and Alexander, Nearchus, and I clambered onto the deck to get our first view of Denmark.

  It wasn’t called Denmark back then, of course. It was part of an ancient iron age civilization, and, aside from the obvious farming, trapping, and fishing going on, there was an important export of Baltic amber, wood, pewter, salt, and pine pitch.

  They imported wine, vases, spices, and other luxuries, which was what Phaleria was trading. She had a hold full of wine from Italy, some lovely necklaces from the Parisii, and Greek vases. There was also a case full of the little lion-shaped oil lamps made of bronze. Phaleria told me they sold very well.

  Paul, Alexander and I went into town, intending to sightsee. I was a typical tourist, and Alexander still wanted to conquer everything he saw.

  The village was fortified, and had a medieval look that reminded me of some parts of Europe in the middle ages, still a thousand years away. It was strange, as if time had folded over on itself.

  Alexander found fortifications quaint. He didn’t think much of the town; the cities in Mesopotamia were so much more luxurious and the villages here seemed primitive. He walked carefully through deep mud, wondering aloud why the people didn’t get some decent pavements.

  ‘Like the ones in Gaul,’ he said. ‘Remember? They were perfectly adequate when it rained. This is dreadful. The rain is icy, by the way,’ he added, pulling the umbrella closer to his side. Umbrellas haven’t changed much over the centuries, though the ones here were rectangular.

  Paul didn’t mind. He was walking between us, but when Alexander moved the umbrella, cold raindrops ran down my neck. ‘What I’d really like is a bath,’ I said wistfully. ‘There are some public baths on the other side of town. Phaleria said they were not too bad.’

  ‘Let’s go then.’ Alexander was game.

  ‘We’ll just get muddy going back to the boat,’ Paul said. He looked up at the castle wall. ‘This is a big place.’ ‘It’s small compared to the fortifications in Tyre,’ Alexander began, getting ready to explain how he’d breached those walls, but Paul and I headed him off. We’d heard that story before.

  ‘Father, look at that!’ Paul pointed to a man leading a white ox. The ox pulled a large, covered wagon. Behind the wagon walked a donkey, heavily laden with bundles. A horse, wearing an old blanket and carrying two wooden chests, plodded next to the donkey. There was nothing odd about it, except for a monkey sitting on top of the wagon. The monkey was soaking wet and looked positively miserable. Every now and then he’d give a sharp cry, but the man didn’t even glance at him.

  ‘There’s a monkey on your wagon!’ shouted Paul.

  ‘I know that,’ the reply came in Greek and was tinged with amusement.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Paul wanted to know.

  ‘He’s being punished.’ The man looked up at the bedraggled beast. ‘I suppose you’ve learn
ed your lesson. Get back inside, and next time you have to pee, you do it outside the wagon. I don’t care how cold you think it is.’

  The monkey gave a glad shriek and jumped down, landing lightly on the ox’s back before springing to the man’s shoulder. He gave the man a noisy kiss, then leapt into the wagon, lifting the cover in a strangely human gesture.

  ‘What an amazing animal,’ said Paul. ‘I wish I had one.’

  ‘No!’ Alexander and I both cried at once. ‘You already have Cerberus,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Besides, that monkey isn’t an animal,’ the man told us, his voice lowered mysteriously. ‘He was a druid. He became trapped in one of his spells. Now he has to spend the rest of his life as a monkey.’

  ‘How awkward for him,’ I said.

  ‘It could have been worse, I suppose,’ the man said. ‘He kept the ability to understand the language of humans, and he can write a little in Greek, but he can’t speak any more, and he tends to forget himself and pee in the wagon. When he does that, I make him ride on the roof.’

  We stared at him. ‘He writes in Greek?’ I asked, finally.

  The man scratched his head. ‘I know it sounds odd,’ he admitted. ‘The strangest thing about that is, he never spoke

  Greek, and he was quite illiterate before he was stuck in the spell. However, I’m sure there’s an explanation.’ He shrugged. ‘At any rate, come to my show this evening in the market place. It starts after sunset.’

  ‘We’ll be there,’ Alexander promised.

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out for you.’ He tipped his hat, sending a stream of water splashing to the mud.

  We watched as he disappeared around the corner of the street, and then we went on toward the baths. I was cold and wet, and I thought a nice long soak in hot water would do wonders for my morale.

  After days of sailing and no bathing except in cold seawater, I was longing to wash my hair, soak in a tub, and dress in warm, dry, clean clothes. My clean clothes were carefully folded in my waterproof bag. Alexander and Paul had their clothes with them as well, and I’d brought a bar of Gallic soap and some scented shampoo with me. I couldn’t wait.

  When we caught sight of the baths, I was disappointed. There were five or six wooden huts standing in a line in front of a large, black pond. Built slightly off the ground, the huts had steps leading to blanket covered doors. Steam escaped from the roofs, and I realized they were saunas. As I looked, a bright pink man shot out of the last building and tore across the open space separating the last hut from the pond.

  The man leapt into the pond, and I imagined I heard steam hissing as he sank into the dark water. Then he climbed out of the water and disappeared into another hut. He was naked except for a brass armband.

  Alexander said to me, ‘When you come flying out of the hut like that fellow, don’t trip. All the beneficial effects of the steam will be undone if you land in the mud.’

  I looked at the first hut. A woman was beckoning me. With a heavy sigh, I shouldered the bag containing my clothes and patted Paul on the head. ‘I suppose that’s the ladies’ room.’

  Alexander and Paul went to the second hut where loud laughter was heard.

  As I plodded through the mud, another bright pink man shot out of a hut with steam billowing off his naked body. He looked like a scalded lobster. He jogged down the narrow wooden dock before diving headfirst into the pond. He disappeared under the water and only ripples showed where he’d gone. Then his head broke the water like a seal’s and he snorted loudly before swimming lazily toward the shore. He climbed out and jogged back to the buildings, being careful to stay on the plank walkway.

  Raindrops spattered the surface of the opaque water. Ducks quacked loudly from reeds on a small island near the centre of the pond. I shivered. The water looked like black ice.

  An hour later, I couldn’t stand the heat another second. My whole body was scarlet, and sweat poured down my back and between my breasts. The woman next to me grinned and motioned toward the doorway. When I lifted the blanket, cool air gusted in. When I lowered it again, I felt as if I were suffocating.

  The last thing I had to do was wash my hair. I took a dipper of hot water and poured it carefully over my head, then I took my small cake of solid shampoo and rubbed it in my hair, scrubbing hard.

  ‘Well, here goes nothing,’ I muttered and ran to the lake. The dock vibrated under my feet as I trotted to the very end, then, without dipping my toe in to see how the water was, I took a deep breath and jumped.

  I sank below the icy water and came up sputtering. There was a fine coat of sleet on the surface of the pond, too sheer to see with the rain and the dark. It was like frozen tissue paper floating on the water. I closed my eyes and dived underwater, then slowly rose to the surface. Once in the air, my face was covered with a fine layer of ice that melted in seconds.

  The water was like silk on my hot body and I was amazed to find I wasn’t the least bit cold. However, I knew that to linger was to invite a chill. I rinsed my hair then clambered up the wooden ladder and ran back to the hut. I was tingling all over. My head was clear as spring water and I felt invigorated. I turned when I heard a shout. Paul and Alexander dashed toward the lake, their bodies glowing like embers in the dim light.

  I watched as they plunged into the water, and heard Paul’s surprised shout as he discovered the ice. I laughed when Alexander dunked him. Paul hurried out, but Alexander, never cold, took the time to swim in a huge, lazy circle, disturbing the ducks, who left the lake with a heavy flapping of wings and a chorus of angry quacks.

  I dried thoroughly, braided my hair, and then put on my clothes, savouring each instant. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bathe again before we arrived at our next stop, a week’s sail away.

  When I was dressed and warm, I poked my head out. The rain had nearly stopped, only a few drops fell. Ducks flew overhead, their wings making a lovely jingling sound. Alexander paid the owner of the baths, and we made our way back to the village.

  Our boots were muddy when we arrived in town, but we were clean. The rain had stopped, and watery, pale sunlight sparkled over everything. The colours were all metallic: pewter water, silver sky, and gunmetal shadows. Trees looked as if they were etched out of steel plate, and flocks of white gulls wheeled across the harbour, their eerie catcalls loud in the dying wind. A copper line on the horizon was all that showed of the sunset. Torches were lit all over the town, and soon the streets were dotted with gold.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  We decided to eat in town. Vendors sold grilled fish and steaming bowls of soup, with fresh bread and hot chicory drinks. We sat at a rough wooden table beneath an awning and ate our full. There was barley soup, salmon, and bread flavoured with herbs. Their chicory was unsweetened and burning hot, but it was cooled with long draughts of cold beer.

  When we finished eating, we wandered to the market square where the entertainment was about to begin. The man with the monkey had lit torches next to his wagon and called loudly that the show would start shortly. He’d hung a curtain across his wagon, and lined up bales of hay for seats.

  ‘Take your places everyone, the Great and Marvellous Sindi-Dan will charm and amuse you! Come one, come all! The show is free, free as the air you breathe. If you like it, you can donate a few coppers toward the care and feeding of the mighty elephant I have in the wagon. But otherwise, don’t worry, don’t worry if you have no money! I’ll welcome bread and fish. I even accept fresh eggs, as long as you don’t throw them at me!’

  The crowd chuckled in appreciation and started to wander over. A small boy yelled ‘What’s a nelephant?’

  ‘An elephant, my friend, is a mighty creature. Iskander the Great Conqueror used them to go all the way to the sacred valley! Why, he gave me one himself, just before he died. I also have a selkie, a mythical creature.’ This was said in a half-serious, half-joking voice.

  ‘I’ve heard of a selkie!’ the boy scoffed, ‘Where is he?’

  ‘You’ll see hi
m soon, he’s a shy beastie and won’t come out until the night has fallen!’ The Great and Marvellous Sindi-Dan spoke in a deep, mysterious voice.

  I dug my elbows into Alexander’s ribs. ‘I always wondered what you did with the elephants,’ I whispered. ‘Now I know.’

  He grinned. ‘I wondered too.’

  ‘Father, hush!’ Paul tugged on his arm. ‘Listen, he’s telling everyone he knew you!’

  He was. In a loud voice, he was proclaiming himself one of Alexander’s magicians who had followed him on his journeys. As we sat and listened, spellbound, to his hyperbole, a deep voice tickled our ears from behind.

  ‘Well, Iskander, it seems you’ve found one of your cronies!’

  It was Demos, settling his bulk comfortably behind us. Axiom and Yovanix were not long coming to the show. Soon we were all in a group again, sitting on bales of hay, watching as the shadows grew deeper and longer, and the glow of torches and swinging lamps dappled the white show curtain.

  When the last bit of light had faded from the sky, and a large crowd had gathered, the Great and Marvellous Sindi-Dan stepped into the middle of the clearing and opened his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. ‘Men, women, children, and spirits of the night, welcome to the show! Welcome to the mysteries of the Orient! Welcome, one and all!’ He bowed, and a dramatic billow of smoke masked him from sight. When the cloud disappeared, a white ox stood in his place. There was a brief flurry of laughter and shrieks, then the ox slowly kneeled, giving a parody of the Great and Marvellous Sindi-Dan’s bow. Gaily coloured ribbons fluttered around the ox’s horns and neck. Another puff of smoke appeared, and the ox vanished, leaving nothing but a few scattered ribbons that settled on the ground. Before anyone could move, a loud shuffling noise came from behind the curtain. An invisible hand parted it, and a small elephant trotted out.

  The crowd gave a cry, for most had never seen an elephant, and even one as small as this was a terrifying sight. The elephant stopped in front of the crowd. It wheeled around and around like a spinning top. Then it pointed its trunk to the sky and trumpeted loudly. It had perfect little tusks and beady eyes that reflected the torchlight like rubies.