Voyage of the Snake Lady (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen
Kuspada

F
ARA WENT WITH
Turxu to retrieve his horse; then she sent him on his way, kissing him as they parted. She stood watching him ride away toward the glimmer of the fire in the distance by Eagle Rocks. A huge smile lit her face.

Back in Myrina’s tent her friends could not contain their curiosity. “What does it all mean? What is this Kuspada he’s so concerned about?”

Myrina shook her head and frowned. “
Pada
means leader and I think
kus
is the Scythian word for iron. Kuspada seems to mean Iron Leader.”

“Ha!” Kora smiled knowingly. “Top dog! He means to bring their leader to meet you.”

“Iron Leader.” Coronilla laughed. “If we have the meaning right, he sounds like a tough fellow!”

Myrina’s confidence waned. “I hope we have done right in giving this invitation.”

“Of course we have!” Kora told her warmly. “Get to bed now. You have done very well, Snake Lady, but you must organize a hunting party early in the morning; then I will make ready a fine feast. Get to bed! Now that I am a Moon Rider I shall tell you what to do!”

“Didn’t you always?” Myrina laughed.

As she drew back the tent flap, she smiled to herself at the low, excited whispers she heard.

“A feast,” Tamsin murmured.

“Young men and a feast!” Phoebe replied. “They must bring the one I like!”

“If they don’t, I’ll go and get him for you,” Tamsin told her sleepily.

Myrina woke up full of doubts again, but the pleasure and excitement on all the women’s faces as they danced to greet the morning sun told her that there could be no going back.

The best hunters rode all morning and returned to the camp with an ibex, a pair of hares, a fallow deer, and a wild boar. Kora worked hard grinding grain and pounding dough to make her delicious flat bread. Water was carried up from the river, and a good smell of roasting meat drifted into all the tents. They saw no sign of the young men all day; for once they seemed to have deserted their camp beneath Eagle Rocks and Myrina could not help but be anxious again. Had she given the wrong impression? Had she given offense?

As darkness began to fall the excitement grew. Animal bones were hastily cut and used as combs, clothing was brushed down and straightened, herbs were chewed to freshen the breath. The few late flowers that could be found were picked carefully and plaited into hair. Cushions and rugs, nearly all of them gifts from their Sinta guests, were dragged out from the tents and arranged in a circle around the fire.

Then a tense quietness fell and for a while the women sat very still, waiting and watching.

Myrina was filled with self-doubt. Had Turxu understood her? Would they come? The meat would be burned if they didn’t come soon, but worse than that, they would feel foolish and disappointed.

Then in the distance they picked out tiny, starry glimmers of light that moved toward them. While they watched and waited the lights grew, and they could see that the men carried brushwood torches as they rode toward them.

“Here they come! Look at them!” the whisper went around.

There were many impressed gasps as the Sinta men approached, for in the light of the torches their gold bangles and neck torques gleamed. They came to the feast decked in gold and beads, their hair combed, their beards neat, and their skin clean and glossy. It seemed that they, too, had prepared very carefully for this meeting. They wore clean trousers and smocks, not the strong and rugged horsehide hunting gear that they rode in every day. As they moved closer, the Moon Riders saw that even the horses were adorned with gleaming gold bits and harnesses, delicately crafted into intricate coils, whirls, and animal patterns.

Turxu led the train, along with an older man with a full neat beard. He was not as richly adorned as the younger men; but something about the confident ease with which he controlled his huge black stallion told them that this must be the Kuspada that Turxu had spoken of.

Kora stared in admiration. “Now that’s what I call a man,” she whispered.

Myrina watched with interest as he leaped lightly down from his horse; he was well muscled and strong, not the aged chieftain she’d somehow expected.

Turxu brought him straight to Myrina. The man bowed, then looked directly at her, as though calmly sizing her up.

“Kuspada,” Turxu introduced him. “S-snake Lady!”

She took a deep breath and held out her palm to him, inviting a hand-to-hand salute. He pressed his own palm firmly on hers, looking sharply at the snake picture on her extended forearm. He gave a sudden warm smile of approval. “Snake Lady!” he said in the Luvvian language. “Now I understand. Turxu told us, ‘The Snake Lady has come.’”

“You speak Luvvian!” Myrina gasped.

He bowed his head. “I do!”

Myrina was hugely relieved to find that she could talk to him in the language that her grandmother had taught her as a child. Many of the Moon Riders who’d once been slaves in the city of Troy could also speak and understand the language.

“Welcome,” she told him. “Please come and sit down.”

But Kuspada hesitated. “First, there is something that I must say.”

There was silence then as both men and women held their breath.

“We beg forgiveness for the death we caused. We had no idea that you were . . . women. Such riders and horse tamers as you are we believed must be warriors, come to steal our horses and our river lands.”

“You . . . you thought us men?” Myrina allowed herself a little smile.

He nodded. “We have never seen women who ride and shoot like you.”

Myrina felt a little uncomfortable. Though the strangers were mistaken in thinking them men, it was true that they had come looking for land, and perhaps it would be true to say that they had stolen the horses.

“We are Moon Riders,” she told him. “Warrior priestesses from the far side of the Inhospitable Sea. Our ship was washed into the Little Sea and we were shipwrecked on your shore. We came here seeking refuge and new lands. In a way you were right, we did come to steal horses . . . but you have treated us with great generosity. We forgive you for the death of our friend Leti, but we, too, must beg forgiveness of you for our intrusion into your lands.”

Kuspada bowed his head in agreement. “All is forgiven.”

“Now please sit down and eat with us,” Myrina begged.

The Sinta men had brought fermented mare’s milk, which they shared around. The camp was soon full of young people smiling and nodding at each other. As bellies grew full, they began to look and touch with shy interest. Phoebe crept around the circle to sit close to the brave rider she admired.

“His name is Leni,” Tamsin bent to whisper in her ear. “I found it out for you.” Then she went around asking them all their names.

Myrina felt strangely awkward and shy but couldn’t hold back her curiosity. She hoped that her questions wouldn’t give offense. “Kuspada . . . does that mean chief?”

Kuspada gave a hearty laugh and shook his head. “Chief—no, no. We Sinta people do not have a chief. Kuspada means Iron Man. I smelt iron, bronze, and gold.”

“Aah.” Coronilla spoke with frank approval. “You are the blacksmith.”

“I believe that is the name some give for the hot and sooty work that I do.”

“Important work,” Coronilla insisted.

Myrina looked around at the beautiful gold jewelery that adorned the arms and necks of all the young men. “Is this your work?” she asked.

He bowed his head modestly. “Much of it is mine.”

“And you adorn your horses with the precious stuff!” Myrina was fascinated. “Though we Moon Riders value our steeds above gold, we have never managed to make such wonderful trappings for them.”

Kuspada looked thoughtful then. “There is much that we could do to help each other.”

“You have already helped us beyond any of our expectations,” Myrina said.

“Well . . .” The blacksmith hesitated. “We wish very much to know the magic of your horse taming. We Sinta can ride like the wind and rope a wild horse and force it to obey us, but you women from the sea . . . you walk among the wild mares and set them following in your wake. This is priestesses’ magic, isn’t it?”

Myrina laughed and took another sip of fermented milk. “I was born a Mazagardi,” she said with pride, then her face clouded over with sadness. “The Mazagardi are no more, but their horse-training secrets live on with the Moon Riders.”

Kuspada was solemn now and respectful. “Such magic would be very precious to us.”

Myrina smiled. “The magic is not mine alone to give,” she told him. “I will speak with the women and see what they think. Maybe there are skills that we may exchange, for the women admire the light metal bits and harnesses that you use to direct your steeds.”

“The exchange of these skills would be our pleasure,” he said.

“Now”—Myrina wanted time to think—“you are our guests and we wish to entertain you. Would you like to see dancing? We Moon Riders are trained to perform sacred dances in honor of Mother Maa, but sometimes we dance simply to celebrate.”

Kuspada did not have to give a reply; his smile told her that such a thing would be a delight.

Myrina called the Moon Riders together and set them dancing. They did not perform the sacred dances of the moon but instead threw themselves into the cheerful, swinging dances in which they flung their sticks high into the air, catching them again as though a tiny thread tied hand and stick together. These dances were full of glee, but they also demonstrated the strength of these young women: they could turn a simple stick into a weapon with a flick of their fingers.

The young Sinta warriors clapped and cheered, and as the fermented milk was passed around again, the dancing grew faster and wilder and the men got up to perform a powerful horse-roping dance.

Chapter Fifteen
Argimpasa

A
T LAST, AS
the fires burned low, Fara led Big Chief up from the waterside and begged Myrina to perform the special dance that only she had perfected.

“But I haven’t taught Big Chief to do it properly,” she protested. “He’s not quite ready yet.”

“That beast will do anything for you.” Coronilla would not tolerate her excuses.

“Come on,” Kora bullied. “It will honor our guests.”

Myrina felt that she couldn’t refuse, so at last she got up and leaped onto Big Chief’s back. She set him pacing steadily around the fire while both Moon Riders and their guests shuffled hastily back, sensing that this performance might be safer watched from a distance. Once she felt that the horse was giving her his trust, Myrina rose gracefully to her feet and with perfect balance began to turn and twist in time to the beating of Coronilla’s drum. The Moon Riders clapped lightly to the rhythm, and as Myrina’s confidence grew, she sprang up and down on Big Chief’s back. She was applauded with wild cheers, but then she seemed to sense a new hush in her audience.

“Argimpasa!” The mysterious word passed from mouth to mouth, whispered by the Sinta men. “Just like Argimpasa!”

Myrina slowed Big Chief, fearful that the performance had somehow given offense. As she slipped down from the horse’s back, new applause greeted her, but the atmosphere had changed. The Sinta men were quieter and watched her with a look of wonder.

The Moon Riders looked at one another, puzzled. Myrina turned to catch Kuspada’s reaction and was a little shaken to see that he watched her with intense joy, as though he’d glimpsed a vision. She went to him, concerned.

“Argimpasa,” he murmured. “You are Argimpasa, our snake lady.”

Myrina smiled uncertainly. “I am just a very tired Moon Rider who fled across the sea to find freedom, and I am very glad to have made new friends.”

The strange expression of rapture quickly left him and Kuspada rose to his feet, holding out his palm. “We will be friends,” he agreed.

The other Sinta men took his lead, getting up from their cushions, bowing and smiling, courteously taking their leave. Myrina realized that they were going and she still hadn’t asked the question that she really wanted to ask.

She pressed her palm firmly against Kuspada’s and asked it. “Will you bring your women to visit us? We would like to meet them, too.”

A fleeting expression of anxiety seemed to touch his eyes, but it passed quickly and he smiled again. “Will you come with us to visit our home camp? That way you will meet the women of our tribe.”

Slightly puzzled, Myrina glanced without thinking over at the dark silhouette of Eagle Rocks in the distance, black against the starry sky.

“No, no.” Kuspada put the misunderstanding right at once. “Our home camp is half a day’s journey to the west, but it will seem nothing to a fine horsewoman like you.”

The thought flitted through Myrina’s mind that this might be some kind of a trap. Kuspada waited patiently for her reply, not trying to persuade or rush her judgment, and a deep instinct told her that this was a man whom she could trust.

“We will come,” she agreed.

“At sunrise?”

She was a little startled at his urgency, but she could not think of a good reason to refuse. “Yes. I will bring a few of my friends along with me,” she agreed.

Kuspada seemed satisfied with that and bowed low before her, then went to spring lightly onto his horse. Myrina watched him ride away—almost like a Mazagardi warrior, she thought.

After the men had gone, the Moon Riders joined together to do the gentle, soothing moon dance. They honored the silver disk that lit the night sky and went calm and sleepy to their beds, but they were up before sunrise, ready to perform the important sun-welcoming dance that warmed their muscles and set their minds busy for the day ahead.

Myrina gathered her friends together, telling them to wrap up well and prepare for a short journey. They obeyed eagerly and went to seek out their horses.

“I’m coming, too,” Kora insisted. “Now that I’m a true warrior priestess, I can climb up onto your stallion’s back and ride along with you.”

“No.” Myrina shook her head.

Kora folded her arms and dug her heels stubbornly into the earth.

Myrina smiled and sighed. “You must stay here and keep the camp safe for me. I think we can trust these men, but just in case, there must be somebody to stay here who can make sensible decisions and take the lead.”

“Me?” Kora was surprised and pleased.

“Yes. I leave Tamsin and Phoebe in your care. We expect to return after one night, but just in case . . .”

Kora nodded her head, then looked up and saw the Sinta men approaching again, Kuspada at their head. “Here’s your man,” she said.

“Not
my
man,” Myrina said.

“Is he not?” Kora smiled knowingly. “I would not say no to him!”

Kuspada led them off to the west, past the camp at Eagle Rocks. Myrina was impressed to see that the young men had made a neat and cozy arrangement of tents. Rugs were hanging out to air and dry in the morning sun.

“Your men keep themselves clean and comfortable,” she approved. “We call this Eagle Rocks, for they seem to us to take the shape of the bird.”

Kuspada nodded. “You women would do better to camp here beside us,” he told her. “We call this place Levas Rocks, which to us means ‘sheltering rocks.’ Your eagle’s half-furled wings keep away the bitter north wind.”

She was a little disconcerted at the suggestion, but then she saw what he meant and understood. The warm south-facing rocks that the men had backed themselves up against made a much warmer winter base than the exposed spot by the river that they had chosen. Perhaps they did have much to learn from the River People, who had spent many winters in this alien climate.

“What name did you choose for your fine horse?” Myrina asked, admiring the blue-black stallion.

“Dorag,” he told her. “In our language it means Thunderer. He serves me well.”

“A good name,” she affirmed. “Last night you called me by a name that is strange to me.”

He smiled. “Argimpasa.” He spoke the word with reverence, as though it were full of magic.

“Who is this Argimpasa?” Myrina asked.

“She is the mother of all Sintas,” he said. “More than that, she is the mother of all the Scythian tribes.”

“Aah!” Myrina began to understand. “Perhaps she is like our goddess Maa! The mother of all things alive on this earth.”

He nodded his head. “It is our belief that Argimpasa was married to Targitos, the sky god; these two were the parents of the Scythian tribes. Once we were all one family.” He sighed. “Now, sadly, we often war with each other!”

Myrina nodded. It was a familiar story.

Then Kuspada smiled as though she might think him foolish. “The story that every young Scythian knows is that Argimpasa comes from the sky, standing on the back of a golden stallion, so you see . . .”

“Aah!” Myrina smiled. “I am honored that my performance made you think of such a wonderful goddess.”

Kuspada laughed and shook his head. “Not only did you look like Argimpasa standing on a stallion, but you see, our goddess is half woman, half snake.” He shrugged his shoulders, still amused. “Just for a moment I thought I had seen the goddess herself.”

They smiled at each other with warmth and understanding and rode on over dry grassland that stretched for miles and miles. Though they saw gazelles and antelopes in the distance they ignored the chance to hunt, intent on the main purpose of their journey. At last, as the sun reached its zenith, they saw ahead of them a sprawling cluster of tents made of thick, warm felt, with spirals of smoke rising up from holes in the roofs. Corrals of healthy sheep and horses surrounded the encampment. As they approached, a small group of children ran out to meet them. They surrounded them, waving and shouting with wild excitement. “
Aruna! Aruna!
”

“What is it that they shout?” Fara asked.

Myrina looked puzzled. “I think the word they use is “mothers”! They are calling us mothers!”

“No, no!” Coronilla laughed. “It must be their word for women.”

Kuspada said nothing and Myrina thought that he seemed a little uneasy once again. Her hand touched the feathered flights of her arrows, which she carried in a quiver strapped to her thigh. Was her instinct to trust him true? Her hand moved on to check the bow that she’d slung across her shoulder.

The children seemed wild with delight to have visitors, and soon some older men and a few women came out from the tents, making beckoning signs of welcome with their hands. A girl came running out of her tent shouting wildly, reaching up to Kuspada.

“Zimapo!” he called her as he hauled her up to sit in front of him on Dorag’s back. He hugged her tightly.

Myrina saw at once that she was his daughter. For a moment she found herself struggling with an unexpected sense of disappointment. Of course a man of his age and standing would have a daughter, and of course that meant he would have a wife. Why should that surprise or bother her? Perhaps Kora’s earthy suggestion that he might admire her had somehow sunk unbidden into her mind. She pushed such thoughts away, feeling foolish again, and swung down from Big Chief to greet Kuspada’s daughter with a friendly hand salute.

Another very confident young woman came over to greet them, a baby in her arms and a toddler at her skirts. “This is Tabi,” Kuspada introduced her.

Myrina wondered if Tabi was his wife, but he did not say that she was.

The Moon Riders were invited to sit down and offered some warming herb tea. The Sinta women greeted them with huge smiles, but didn’t sit down to join them until all the guests were served.

Zimapo and Tabi marched about giving orders. Turxu brought a very old woman out from one of the tents; she greeted them all with smiles and much nodding of her head, seeming especially delighted with Fara. Kuspada introduced her as Turxu’s grandmother Sere, the Gray One. Myrina thought she heard the young Sinta warrior use the Scythian word for wife.

Soon they were being fed with freshly roasted wild boar, stuffed with delicious herbs. They could not fault the hospitality, but Myrina was not the only Moon Rider who turned her head this way and that to see if there were other women hiding shyly in the tents.

After they had eaten and sipped at the flask of fermented mare’s milk that was passed around, at last Myrina got up her courage.

“We would like to meet the other women!”

There was an awkward moment as the Sinta men fell silent, understanding enough to know what she asked.

Kuspada paused for a moment and then he sighed. He looked up at the other men, as though asking them a question, and they nodded.

“It is time,” he said, turning to face Myrina and her friends. “Time that I told you of the great sorrow that has cursed our tribe.”