Voyage of the Snake Lady (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four
Orestes’ Redemption

P
HOEBE WAS STANDING
at Myrina’s side and she’d heard Myrina’s whispered prayer for help. She knew the story of Penthesilea well. “Snake Lady,” she said, “you often told me how Penthesilea nearly won when she fought Achilles!”

“Yes.” Myrina tried to find comfort and courage in this reminder. “You are right, Young Tiger. Penthesilea could leap like a gazelle, and Orestes is much lighter than Neoptolemus; he must try to use that. And another thing”—she narrowed her eyes—“this is not the great Achilles. It seems to me that the wealth Neoptolemus has gained through trading slaves has made the man fat!”

Iphigenia almost smiled. “You are right, Snake Lady, Neoptolemus has grown fat!”

But any sense of cheer fled quickly, for Achilles’ son did not wait for any signal, but swung his sword, closely missing Orestes’ neck and catching him unawares. They saw that for all his height and weight the man could fight. Neoptolemus’s men cheered and jeered, but those on Orestes’ ship watched quietly, grim and alert, as Captain Seris moved among them, whispering orders to each of them.

Orestes had been caught unawares by this sudden attack, but he quickly rallied and Myrina saw with a touch of hope that he was not inexperienced in fighting with a sword. Pylades watched in an agony of helplessness, whispering instructions that his friend could not hear. “Beware his swing! To the east, to the east! Now duck!”

“You two learned to fight together,” Myrina said.

Pylades nodded. “I have slightly the better skill. It should be me down there!”

“No!” She tried to offer comfort. “You have fought by his side for long enough. This is one battle that Orestes must fight alone, and whatever may come of it, he has earned my respect!”

There was a low moan and a gasp from Orestes’ men as they saw Neoptolemus lunge and slice their master’s left shoulder above the protection of his shield. But while Neoptolemus turned to his men in triumph, the younger man managed to make a quick upper thrust from below that deeply wounded the giant’s neck.

Then there were angry gasps from his men as Neoptolemus staggered backward. His warriors threatened to climb down to aid their master, but Myrina grabbed her arrow. “Here’s a dart for the first man to break the rules!” she bellowed.

They did not need another warning; for all their sneers, they knew that a Moon Rider’s arrow was something to be feared. Orestes was bleeding profusely from his wound and his shield arm hung uselessly, but he leaped forward, sensing that he had gained an advantage. He thrust again, and this time his sword sank deep into Neoptolemus’s breast. There was a hushed gasp, then Pylades leaped over the gunwales, grabbed his friend, and dragged him back to the boat. At the same moment Neoptolemus’s men swarmed down like angry bees to their master, despite their fear of flying arrows.

Myrina lowered her bow; the fight was over. Neoptolemus could not recover from such a wound. The son of Agamemnon had killed the son of Achilles.

“Now,” Seris shouted. “To the oars!”

As one man, Orestes’ oarsmen slipped into their seats, snatching up the oars at once, for they had little trust that the followers of Neoptolemus would honor their master’s agreement. Captain Seris had steadily been slipping the ropes during the fight so that the
Castor and Pollux
had slowly drifted to the east. Now he had gained a small space to maneuver and turn the prow for the open sea.

Myrina watched with admiration, remembering the sleepy, rebellious crew she had disturbed only two days ago. The oarsmen struck the water with precision, catapulting the ship away from the shore. They moved with such strength that though the prow caught the bows of Neoptolemus’s ship, it knocked it aside like flotsam and plowed out into the deep water.

Orestes had collapsed on the deck, but Myrina saw that he was in good hands, Iphigenia tending him, aided by Phoebe. The ship lurched as the oars sent it shooting forward, but they already had his wound stanched and were binding it tightly. Tamsin had set herself to soothe the horses, for they tossed their heads and stamped in protest at the unnerving sensation of a rolling deck beneath their hooves.

“Good girl!” Myrina went at once to help her. “Hush now, boy!” she crooned, fastening Big Chief to one of the stanchions, softly repeating the Mazagardi command to be still.

She looked back and saw more ships sliding into sight around the promontory; the rest of Neoptolemus’s fleet had come, as she knew they must. Back in Yalushta Bay some of his men were trying to man the oars and set off in pursuit in the flagship, but most of them stayed on the shore in disarray, raging and mourning their leader.

Myrina swore under her breath. “We leave not a moment too soon!”

The
Castor and Pollux
plowed on through the waves, a strong wind blowing in their favor. They unfurled the brail sail as soon as they could.

“Thank you, Maa, for this blessed wind,” Myrina whispered.

Though it was midday, with the wind came clouds, a dramatic fading of the light, and a squall of rain. Still Captain Seris kept the sail set, for though it was rough going, at least they were carried fast away from Yalushta. Myrina could not help but fear the storm that seemed to be building, remembering her last experience of the Inhospitable Sea. Nonya’s story of the terrible weapon that made the waves boil and rage crept unbidden into her mind. Sometimes she thought she glimpsed the dark shapes of vessels following them, but nobody spoke of it. At last, as darkness gathered thick about them, the wind dropped a little and they lit the oil lamps. Still the oarsmen rowed, while Seris steered by the stars.

Only then did a sense of relief and safety come to Myrina, though it was swiftly followed by frustration as she acknowledged to herself that the fates had dealt a sharp blow to her plans once again. By now she’d thought to be galloping back toward the Sinta grasslands, looking for a suitable spot to camp for the night. As the ship dipped and rose, heading for the southern shore of the Inhospitable Sea and the Bosphorus, the Moon Riders’ camp beyond the river seemed as distant as the stars that shone down on them.

She put her hand down to grasp her mirror pouch, then let it go. “Too tired to mirror gaze!” she sighed. Instead she contented herself with murmuring soothing Mazagardi words to Big Chief, who still protested a little at the unsteady ground beneath him.

“Sorry, boy,” she whispered, stroking his withers. “I don’t know when you and I will ride the grassy steppe again, but at least we are still alive and together.”

She looked around for the girls and saw that Tamsin and Phoebe were standing by the steering oar on either side of Captain Seris, who was telling them the Achaean names of the stars that he steered the ship by.

“Those two we call by the names of Castor and Pollux; twin brothers for whom we named this ship. They would have been uncles to my master and the Princess Iphigenia, but they died young. Some say they flew up to the top of Mount Olympus by magic as they were descended from gods!”

“That would mean that our Iphigenia is descended from gods, too!” Tamsin insisted, looking around at the princess with new interest.

“We Mazagardi call them the stallion and the mare!” Phoebe told him firmly. “And the three stars below are the three foals they produced.”

Myrina smiled to hear this friendly conversation. The girls did not seem too troubled to be crossing a rough sea toward the Bosphorus instead of the great sea of grass. Iphigenia sat with Orestes and Pylades, helping her brother sip a soothing drink, while his friend steadied him protectively against the lurch of the deck. The princess, too, it seemed, was content to travel wherever fate would take her, more devoted than ever to the brother she’d found. Myrina sighed and tried to reconcile herself to accepting what must be.

“Achilles’ whelp had much to answer for,” she grumbled into Big Chief’s flanks. “None of us will mourn him!” At last she pulled a warm cloak from one of her bundles and settled to snatch some sleep close to the horses, where she could drift fitfully in and out of dreams.

Myrina opened her bleary eyes to sharp sun the following morning. Her mouth was dry and foul tasting. She struggled to her feet and checked that there was no sign of pursuit, then went in search of water for herself and the horses. Seris still clutched the steering oar, and from the blue shadows beneath his eyes she guessed he’d been there all night.

“Water?” she murmured.

He indicated the water butt, then shook his head. “Not much of it though,” he warned.

Myrina scooped up a handful and drank it carefully, understanding his concern. “Is this all?” she asked.

Seris nodded. “We didn’t get fresh water on board before the cursed pirates came at us! Most of our water butts still stand by the quay in Yalushta Bay! I should have ordered them aboard first.”

“You were not to know we’d be set on by poison ants!”

They stood quietly together for a moment, while Myrina surveyed the deck, crowded with sleeping bodies. “What food did we manage to get aboard?” she asked.

“Two good casks of grain!”

“What else?”

He shook his head. “A butt of wine! I spent the morning patching holes, thinking that we’d load up after the midday heat. I would give anything now to change that wine for water.”

Myrina took the oar from his hands. “You are to rest,” she ordered. “You did right to make your ship seaworthy first. If you hadn’t done that we’d all be at the bottom of the sea by now.”

Seris hesitated, but he saw that she could handle the oar. “We’ve made good progress through the night, but I do not know this sea well,” he worried. “Where we can stop and beg supplies I do not know!”

“Rest!” Myrina told him. “I have no complaints about your seamanship now—we all owe you our lives. I will think carefully while I steer; now you must rest!”

Seris grinned at her for all his weariness. “I hear they call you the Snake Lady,” he said.

She smiled back at him. “Obey or you will feel my bite!”

“I think you have already sunk your fangs into my heart,” he answered gallantly and staggered away to find a space where he could rest.

The wind blew steadily in their favor and the spring sunshine warmed and cheered all those aboard, along with the reassurance that there was no sign of Neoptolemus’s ships following them. Orestes troubled them all, for he ran a fever and Iphigenia worried that his wound was festering.

Myrina insisted that Iphigenia rest for a while and promised that she would sit by Orestes and see that he took water. The boy looked weak, and it was hard to believe that he had found the strength to challenge Neoptolemus so bravely.

“I hope you have no regrets about the death of the young Ant Man,” Myrina told him roundly. “I say you redeemed yourself when you took him on, though I would like to have killed him myself. The whole of the Black Sea coast will rejoice and be free again.”

Orestes smiled at her. “I thank you . . . Snake Lady,” he said. Though his voice was faint, all trace of madness seemed to have gone from him. “Your good opinion means much to me . . . I understand now that it was you who saved my sister from the sacrificial knife!”

Myrina pressed his good arm in a gesture of friendship. “I didn’t do it alone. I am glad to hear you speak such sense; I feared that distress had turned your mind. Now all you have to do is rest and recover from this wound.”

“I consider myself a lucky man.” He spoke with warmth. “I have much to live for now. I have my sister, and if I take her safely back to Athens, I believe there may be a chance of forgiveness from the council there, even though I haven’t found the ancient image of Artemis.”

Myrina shook her head and spoke with certainty. “That statue was naught but an old ship’s figurehead.”

“I do not care.” Orestes shrugged painfully. “To have found my sister is all that matters.”

Iphigenia smiled as she settled to rest, overhearing this exchange, glad that her brother and Myrina seemed to be becoming friends.

Chapter Thirty-Five
A Warm Welcome

T
HE
CASTOR AND
Pollux
sailed on and those aboard lived frugally. They crushed the grain and mixed it sparingly with water to make dry cakes and mash for the horses. The wine was shared and cheered them a little. But though they eked out the water as carefully as they could, after four days’ sailing the grain was low and the water almost gone.

To their relief the fever left Orestes, but he was still weak and they could not provide good food to strengthen him. When dawn broke on the fourth day, there came a sudden cry from the young boy who perched as lookout in the little basket above the yardarm. It brought Myrina rushing to the prow, where Seris already stood with Pylades; Orestes struggled up to join them. There, coming up on the port side, was a coastline that seemed to run from east to west, but in the westerly direction the land fell away, leaving a great gulf of water with land on either side.

“The Bosphorus,” Myrina whispered.

“We think so,” Seris agreed. “Though we did not expect to reach it quite so soon.”

“But we have sailed steadily, day and night,” Pylades reassured him. “Your navigation has never been at fault, Seris. What else can it be but the Bosphorus?”

“But what do we do?” Seris was still cautious. “Do we land here and beg for help or sail on south down the straits, hoping that we can find a place that might welcome us in the Sea of Marmara?”

At the mention of that little inland sea Myrina smiled. “I know where we may find a welcome that will be warm as the sun; my friend King Daris of the Isle of Marble would treat us like gods. I once nursed his young wife back to health when she’d nearly died giving birth to his first son. He swore friendship to me, and his generosity has never failed.”

“Bless you, Snake Lady.” Orestes smiled at her, clinging to the balustrades of the foredeck. “Let us pinch in our belts for just a while longer; after Tauris, a sure welcome will be worth the wait.”

Though their bellies were aching for want of food and their mouths parched, still the warm wind continued to blow, sending them steadily through the narrow straits. There was consternation and then delight when the sky above them suddenly turned black with the wings of storks, flying northeast for the summer. At last they sailed out into the warm Sea of Marmara. A few of the crew raised their eyebrows but said nothing as the last of the water and grain was fed to the horses for, as Tamsin insisted, “They cannot know that they’ll soon be fed.”

Before the light faded they limped into the harbor at the Isle of Marble. Myrina’s hopes were not disappointed for she was recognized at once in the prow of the
Castor
and Pollux
.

“The Snake Lady! The Snake Lady has returned!”

A messenger was sent at once to the palace and even before they’d stepped ashore the king and his wife were there on the quayside to welcome them, three healthy, growing children at their side.

The horses were led to the palace stables, where they were treated to clean straw and water and as much hay as they could eat. Both masters and crew were offered sumptuous accommodation, baths, and new clothes. “We will have a feast in your honor!” King Daris was eager to please.

Myrina hugged him as though she were his aunt. “Blessings of Maa on you,” she murmured. “I knew I could rely on your kindness, but before we do anything else, each one of us must eat and drink just a little, for we’ve sailed two days with nothing to pass our lips and we all have growling bellies and little strength.”

The young king stared with concern and horror—such a thing was beyond his understanding—but Ira, his young wife, had known hunger herself as a child and she took charge. She made them all sit down and quickly ordered the servants to pour them beakers of water and bring them small bowls of warm porridge, sweetened with a little milk and honey. Tamsin was so exhausted that Myrina had to feed her like a child.

The king hovered around his guests, looking worried. “Now would you like to bathe?” he asked, concerned at their grimy state.

Queen Ira smiled at him and firmly shook her head. “They go to their beds and sleep,” she insisted. “Then tomorrow, when they are rested, they can bathe and in the evening we will hold a wonderful feast.”

They slept through the night and most of the following morning, but by the next evening the Snake Lady and her companions appeared clean and refreshed and the king held his feast; everyone ate and drank to their heart’s content. It was a feast for the eyes as well as the stomach, with roast swan and duck decorated with dates in marzipan fashioned into the shape of bees, followed by delicate rose-flavored puddings sprinkled with honeyed petals, all accompanied with well-mixed water and wine.

Musicians played while they ate, and afterward they lay back on cushions, smiles of blessed relief on their faces as dancing girls in beautiful gowns swayed and twirled in front of them. Many of Orestes’ men thought that they’d died in the night and flown to Mount Olympus to live with the gods.

Three blissful days passed on the Isle of Marble. The surprise visitors were given everything they needed to feel safe and comfortable. Orestes seemed to recover well with rest and excellent food. Myrina rejoiced to see the happiness that the young king and queen shared, and Tamsin took a great liking to the oldest prince, who’d been named Myrinus, after the Moon Rider who’d saved both him and his mother.

Seris enjoyed his well-earned rest and spent each evening at Myrina’s side, sometimes teasing her, but more and more he observed with admiration the harmonious family of the king and queen of the Isle of Marble. “How does he manage it?” he asked. “How does Daris keep this little haven of peace when invasion and land grabbing goes on all around him?”

Myrina smiled thoughtfully. “The island is too small to covet. Who would go to the expense of raising an army to conquer a little place like this? Daris is well content with what he has, he doesn’t go seeking more; he isn’t greedy.”

“And his subjects are loyal,” Seris said, still impressed. “Orestes has noted this well; he learns much from the man. If Mycenae is ever returned to him, Orestes will make a better king for knowing Daris!”

“I hope you are right.” Myrina smiled at the thought. “Daris treats his people with kindness, even though he is so young, and in return they give him tolerance and love.”

“When I was young, I would never listen to wise advice—I longed to travel and craved excitement,” Seris admitted. “I never saw myself with a wife and little ones, but our latest adventure has set me thinking that peace and a family around him has much to offer a man.”

Myrina listened to him, amused; she had a good idea where this line of thought was taking him. He was a fine-looking man, and having got to know him better, she found she enjoyed his company very much. On the Isle of Marble he spent time with Phoebe and Tamsin, teasing them both relentlessly, but when they asked about his travels, he took their questions seriously and seemed to enjoy the telling, exaggerating just a little for dramatic effect.

On the third evening, after another pleasant meal, Seris reached out and took Myrina’s hand. She was mellow with wine and sat contentedly for a while, enjoying the feel of a strong male hand clasping hers. But as she sat there watching the dancing, a slow sense of unease began to creep over her. It would be all too easy to settle down here on the Isle of Marble with Seris and be his wife. She’d have a charming companion and they could both live here in comfort forever, cosseted and respected by the islanders. But . . . who would she become? What would happen to the resourceful Snake Lady? The more she saw how tempting it was, the more disturbed she became. What was she doing here, sitting watching the pretty young girls dancing? She had warned Tamsin and Phoebe that they must not forget they were Moon Riders, but how long now since she had made them dance to welcome the sun?

She gently withdrew her hand, smiling at Seris to show that she hadn’t been offended, but she made herself get up and walk away. As soon as she left the close atmo-sphere of the feasting hall, she felt better and more herself again. A warm breeze blew inland and the moon gave a good light. She sat down facing the sea, setting her back against a warm rock, and pulled the golden mirror from her belt. She slowed her breathing and let her shoulders droop, thinking not of the Moon Riders’ camp, but of the man who had worked over a glowing fire for many days to fashion this mirror for her.

At first all she could see was her own face in the shadows and the grassy bank behind her, with waving stalks, silver tipped in the moonlight. Then slowly a different landscape unfolded behind the waving stalks: a wide sea of grassy steppe land that stretched bleakly over rolling hills, mile on mile. She saw Kuspada’s face, dim in the darkness, his cheeks lit by the flickering flame of a small fire. There was just one tent behind him. Where were the Moon Riders? Kuspada seemed to be watching something that glinted with silver beside him; it was the river. She looked carefully for clues that would make her understand. Why did Kuspada sit there all alone? What was he waiting for? Then she realized that she knew the answer. He’d left the big camp and returned to the river; he was waiting for the Snake Lady to return.

Myrina’s heart twisted with longing. She released the vision at once, letting it fall swiftly away, but as soon as it had faded, she struggled to her feet and went to find Iphigenia. Orestes was there beside his sister.

“My dear friends”—she spoke to them both and they could see her agitation—“I fear we grow too soft and comfortable; we should be moving on.”

Orestes agreed at once. “I’m glad that you said it, Snake Lady. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to your friend Daris, but Iphigenia has agreed to come back to Athens with me. She will plead on my behalf to the council, and I must admit that this makes me eager to journey onward.”

Myrina was relieved to hear him speak so, but then she sighed. “I must take my leave of you both very soon, for I wish to be set ashore close to where Troy once stood— I have a strange hankering to see what is left of that sad city—and then I must travel back across the Inhospitable Sea to find the other Moon Riders.”

Iphigenia looked at her with concern. “But that is a terrible journey to face—and what of the girls?”

Myrina agreed that it was a harsh journey, but she would not change her mind. “We will travel steadily on horseback toward the Thermodon, and if I cannot find a boat to carry us all across, then we’ll go to the east and travel around the sea by land. We no longer need fear Neoptolemus—knowing that gives me courage; we will get there safe and sound.”

Iphigenia was troubled by her resolve, but she knew better than to try to dissuade her friend. “So you and I must part after all,” she whispered.

Myrina reached out to hug her tightly. “Remember what Cassandra said—we will never be apart in our hearts and we will always share our mirror visions!”

Orestes watched this, frowning a little. “Seris will take your leaving hard,” he warned. “I’m sure that he has hopes . . .”

Myrina nodded. “I will speak to him,” she promised. “Will you speak to our hosts and thank them so that we do not seem to leave discourteously?”

“Yes, I will do it now! Then I will try to persuade the crew!”

Iphigenia smiled and wagged her finger at him in a sisterly manner. “Remember, little brother, you are the master!”

They wandered off in different directions, searching for the right words to use, so that their decision would not give too much pain to their friends. Seris’s disappointment was clear in his face when he heard her plans, and he snatched at a small crumb of hope. “I will come with you,” he said. “Ask your devoted follower King Daris to give you a boat and I will navigate you back across the Inhospitable Sea, if that is where you wish to go. Orestes and Pylades can manage to find Athens without me!”

But Myrina shook her head. “I long for the nomadic life that I knew as a young girl,” she told him. “To ride across the grassy steppe and stuff my pillow with fresh feather grass and sleep with the stars above my head. I need the excitement of packing up tents and moving to fresh pastures with each new moon. I must not forget that I am a warrior priestess, a Moon Rider.”

Seris struggled to understand. “It is a harsh life that you describe,” he said, puzzled that she should want to live with such hardship.

“Yes,” Myrina agreed. “But I was born a Mazagardi and that way of life is part of me. It is not the right way for you.”

“I have spent most of my life traveling,” he objected.

Myrina smiled. “But you—you are a nomad of the sea. I have watched the way your nose twitches at the salt sea breeze and your eyes light up at the sight of a sail unfurling and you love the creaky singing of the deck beneath your feet. I am sad to say it, but we do not belong together and even if . . .” She paused, reluctant to hurt him, but wishing to be honest. “There is . . . another that I think of.”

Seris sighed deeply, seeing at last that he was beaten. “You have never spoken of him,” he said. “But I think I know his name; it is Kuspada!”

Myrina was amazed. “But how . . . ?”

Seris laughed. “You are not the only one who is devoted to him; he is a very lucky fellow. Both Tamsin and Phoebe chant his name at every turn. Kuspada rides like a centaur! Kuspada draws golden nuggets through the fire. Kuspada tells us tales of the sky god and his snaky wife.”