Voyage of the Snake Lady (11 page)
M
YRINA MADE THE
two girls ride all day across the marshy plain toward the southwest, where Kuspada had told her she would pick up the coastline, avoiding the populated curve of land that divided the Inhospitable Sea from the Little Sea. She knew that she was trying to put as great a distance as she could between herself and the Moon Riders; it was almost as though she feared she might change her mind and canter back to them if the distance were not too great. She kept up a steady flow of conversation, though her heart was heavy as iron. Tamsin and Phoebe had gone quiet, making little response to her cheerful comments, but they rode at a steady speed without groans or complaints.
It was a long time since they had ridden all day like this and covered so much ground. Myrina feared that they were missing the busy camp beneath Eagle Rocks and the companionship they had enjoyed all through the winter. Had she done wrong to bring them away with her on a mission that could put them all in danger?
At last the long, low horizon of the sea came into view and both the girls cheered at the sight of it. Big Chief snorted and snuffed the sea air; he at least seemed to be enjoying the adventure of such a long ride across new territory, with no turning back. They covered the last bit of marshy land fast, careless of the spattering mud, and rode westward beneath a bright sun, the sea washing at the horses’ fetlocks.
As the sun began to sink Myrina called a halt. She knew that the girls must be exhausted and she herself felt too weary to try to make a fire. As soon as they’d eaten their cold supper of smoked venison, Tamsin fell asleep, wrapped in her felt rug.
Phoebe sat up for a while, staring gloomily out at the sea.
“Regrets?” Myrina asked.
Phoebe nodded, but then she smiled. “So quiet without the others,” she acknowledged.
“I miss them, too,” Myrina admitted. “But I’m glad that you are here with me.”
Phoebe reached over to kiss her and then yawned hugely.
“Go to sleep,” Myrina told her.
Phoebe settled down beside Tamsin and soon they were both snoring gently. A strange and empty feeling came to Myrina; a sensation that she recognized as loneliness, though it was something she’d rarely experienced. Her life had been so very full and busy that she usually enjoyed her moments of solitude. She often wandered away from the camp for a bit of peace, loving the brief respite from laughter and argument.
Now, beside an unknown coastline, the sleeping girls beside her, she longed for adult company. “I should have let Coronilla come,” she murmured and then smiled. “Or the blacksmith.”
The thought of Kuspada made her remember her mirror and she pulled it from the horsehide sheath that protected it and fixed it safely to her belt. Of course—this was what a mirror was for; she would never be lonely with her magical snaky mirror, wrought with such tender care.
She stared into the mirrored darkness, lit only by the moon, and at first all she could see was the dark round of her own face, surrounded by faint gleams of starlight and edged by the twisting glints of the golden snakes. As she watched, the stars seemed to pick up the gold of the snakes and swim together until they formed the flickering, flaming heart of a fire. Then she began to see the great camp of tents, set up in the lee of a low hillside. The Moon Riders were dancing, even though they must be as weary as she was. She saw Kuspada sitting a little away from the others, his face sad and his thoughts distant. She smiled—his thoughts were with her, she had no doubt of that.
She watched him sadly for a while, then she rose to her feet, the mirror in her hand, and she too began to dance, still holding the vision, moving in time with the Moon Riders. She stepped quietly around the sleeping girls, the regular beat of the drum in her head as she performed the gentle, sleep-inducing moon dance.
“I must not forget that I’m a Moon Rider,” she told herself. She watched the Moon Riders go to their beds; Kuspada got up and wandered sleepily into his tent.
“And I must not forget why I am here,” she whispered, thinking of Iphigenia. She let her eyelids droop again as she gazed into the smoke that rose in curls and twists from the Moon Riders’ fire. At last the smoke cleared a little to reveal the pale oval of Iphigenia’s face. She was alone in the beautiful room that Myrina had seen before, but sleeping, and she looked for the moment as though she was at peace.
“Not long,” Myrina whispered. “Not long and I will see you in the flesh,” she promised. Then she settled down beside the girls, grateful for the warmth and comfort they gave.
Myrina woke them at dawn for the sun-welcoming dance.
“Just the three of us?” Tamsin asked.
“Of course,” Myrina insisted. “We are Moon Riders.”
Both girls smiled and laughed as they danced together; then, having breakfasted, they leaped up onto their horses with renewed energy. This formed the pattern of their days as they journeyed on. They grew used to the routine and Myrina was relieved to see that their spirits lifted, so that for much of the time they chattered together, excited at all they saw. They kept their distance from towns, but stopped in the villages, where fishing families made them welcome and sold them good fish, either smoked or fresh, and wholesome flat-baked bread. Myrina’s knowledge of the Scythian tongue was now so good that nobody doubted that she was the Sinta horse-dealing widow that she claimed to be. Sometimes the villagers stared a little at the arrow pictures that decorated her cheeks, but she explained with a smile that it was a new custom in the lands east of the river, where her tribe came from.
The days grew warm and as they traveled on, flowers bloomed all about them; lizards sunning themselves scuttered away to hide at the sound of hooves.
“Lizards everywhere!” Tamsin laughed, pleased at the idea. “This is lizard country!”
The harsh winter was forgotten, and they rejoiced to find the land so warm and fertile. They saw hares and deer but did not stop to hunt, for Myrina was still borne onward by a deep sense of urgency.
Each night she took a little time to mirror gaze and found that it helped to stave off the loneliness that had descended on that first night. She saw that the Moon Riders and River People thrived and that Iphigenia did not seem to be in immediate danger. One night she watched as a tall man, richly dressed, came to visit her. She sensed that the princess was troubled by his presence and could see that she shook her head at him with determination. Another night she saw her friend holding up a familiar round, black, glassy stone and she understood that Iphigenia, too, was mirror gazing. Her mirror was not a beautifully crafted thing like the one in Myrina’s hand; it was a rough-shaped circle of obsidian given to her long ago by Cassandra. Then, as she watched, Myrina saw Iphigenia look up and raise her hand to her forehead in the Moon Riders’ salute.
“She knows,” Myrina whispered, awed. “She knows that I am coming and that I watch her.”
At once her own hand went involuntarily to her brow in an answering salute and then something happened that she’d never experienced before in all her years of mirror gazing. Without her willing it, the vision of Iphigenia faded a little and Myrina glimpsed the image of Cassandra, there beside Agamemnon’s daughter. It was almost as though the Trojan princess were sitting beside her old friend in the elegant room.
“You will never be alone!” Myrina murmured, remembering the words that Cassandra had used so long ago to the young Iphigenia when they’d parted as children. The promise had proved true, for all through the terrible ordeal of being prepared as a sacrifice, Iphigenia swore that she’d felt Cassandra at her side.
Myrina’s eyes grew wide as she saw that both princesses raised their hands in an answering salute. “They can both see me,” she whispered. This astonishing three-way vision linked them all together.
“Deep magic!” Myrina murmured. “It is Cassandra who has sent me! It is she who has made me come riding so urgently to Tauris!” This thought brought with it a better understanding of the great sense of haste that she felt. “What else could make me leave Kuspada just as I was beginning to love him?” she murmured. “And Iphigenia—she knows that I am on my way.”
Then the shapes faded into smoke and Myrina saw only her own pale, tired face in the mirror again. She gasped with exhaustion; this vision had drained her of energy, but it had also left her with a strong feeling of purpose and certainty.
Over the next two days they rode with renewed urgency, Myrina anxious that the pace was too fast for the girls. But when she related her mysterious mirror vision to them, they both urged her to hurry, impressed by the ancient magic that she described.
“How can Cassandra send her shade to sit with Iphigenia?” Tamsin asked.
“I wish I had known the Trojan princess.” Phoebe spoke wistfully.
“You did know her!” Myrina told her at once, regretful that she had never thought to tell her so before. “She held you in her arms and called you the tiger’s child when you were a tiny babe!”
“Did she? Is that why you have always called me Young Tiger?”
Myrina nodded.
“I never knew that!” Phoebe gazed in wonder at the tiger picture that Myrina had pricked onto her forearm when they lived in peace on the banks of the Thermodon. “I was given my own special symbol by a magical princess.”
Myrina smiled; she, too, could only marvel at the power of the Trojan princess that could project, not just her image but her care and concern, so far from her island home.
“But Iphigenia must have this magic, too,” Tamsin insisted.
“Yes,” Myrina agreed. “Iphigenia has a gleaming black obsidian mirror that Cassandra gave her long ago; it is made of stone from a fire mountain. Atisha told us that it contained the most powerful magic of all.”
“You promised to teach us far-seeing and mirror magic,” Tamsin reminded her mother.
“I swear that I will, Sweet Lizard,” Myrina promised again. “And you, too, Young Tiger, as soon as we see Iphigenia safe!”
They rode all through the next day and night, nodding briefly off to sleep as they rode, trusting themselves to their steeds, the mares they’d brought to sell following obediently in their wake but growing leaner by the day.
The following morning they arrived at a place where the far coastline seemed to split dramatically into two levels as it curved off to the northwest. The lower level was bathed in sun and sheltered by the huge cliffs that rose behind it. A small fishing village was situated in the middle of this strange junction and a great ship lay at anchor in the bay.
At first sight of the ship, Myrina felt a touch of apprehension. What was such a galley doing here? They rode slowly down toward the village and learned that the place was named Yalushta. Suddenly, as she looked again at the ship, Myrina called the girls urgently back to her side.
“What is it?” they asked.
“That ship . . .” Myrina spoke in a whisper, her voice shaking. “It bears the symbol of a swan. I know what that means and it is named the
Castor and Pollux
!”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Land of the Taurians
T
HEY ALL STARED
down at the great Achaean ship that was anchored in the small bay. Phoebe was alert to danger at once but puzzled by Myrina’s concern. “This is not the Ant Man’s son that anchors in the bay?”
“No.” Myrina frowned. “But that symbol of the swan fills me with dread—I remember seeing it on many of the Achaean ships drawn up in the Bay of Troy and also at Aulis. It is the symbol that Agamemnon made his own when he took Clytemnestra as his wife and claimed the kingdom of Mycenae.”
Tamsin asked, “Agamemnon? The cruel father of Iphigenia?”
“But. . .” Phoebe struggled to understand. “Did you not tell us that he was dead?”
Myrina shook her head, puzzled herself. “I saw him die in one of my visions. Iphigenia was with me and she saw it, too. It happened long ago and I believed it, for my visions have never let me down,” she said, trying to calm her own fears. “It cannot be Agamemnon, so it must be somebody who has stolen one of his ships.”
“It looks battered and worn,” Phoebe pointed out.
Myrina could see that she was right. The ship looked as though it had limped into this place after a very long sea journey, its paint peeling and its wide brail sail in need of repair.
“I’d say it has battled through a storm, just as we did,” Myrina guessed. “It doesn’t look too threatening now. We will ignore it and go on our way, but we must be wary.”
She stopped for a while, looking uncertainly ahead at the way the cliffs split so sharply into two at Yalushta. “Which path do we take?” she murmured.
The lower path led through small coastal villages, hung with flowers and vines. Cats slept in the sun and the scent of cooking filled the streets, while seagulls soared and mewed. The other pathway wound steeply up to the top of the cliffs; all they could see up there was grass and a few stunted trees.
Tamsin had no hesitation. “I would stay down by the sea.”
Myrina shook her head. “It looks more hospitable down there,” she agreed. “But we are not here to sun ourselves. I think we could approach this city of Tauris from a stronger position if we were up on those high cliffs.”
Tamsin sighed, but obediently she turned Snowboots’s head, and they all set off to struggle up the steep cliff pathway.
That night they camped on the bleak grassy cliff tops, where there was little shelter. They caught glimpses of fallow deer and partridges waddling in the distance, while eagles soared above their heads. Stoats and hamsters scampered around them as the sun went down and the evening turned cool.
“I like it up here,” Tamsin decided after all. “I can see the whole world below me.”
They moved on next morning, keeping close to the cliff edge, the sunny seaside villages beneath them on the lower level. It wasn’t long before the open rolling plains around them became dotted with small clumps of habitation. They moved away from the cliffs to skirt an ornate, palatial building, topped with turrets and towers, perched precariously on high rocks. It was heavily guarded.
“Is that the king’s palace?” Tamsin asked. “Shall we ask the guards?”
Myrina shook her head, strangely reluctant. She had never seen a palace in such an inhospitable spot. Though there was a steep road leading up to it, a cart would struggle to reach the top.
“Why so many guards?” Phoebe wondered.
“Why indeed?” Myrina murmured. “What is it that they guard so carefully? Or who?”
As she looked at the highest tower, topped with the shape of a stag’s antlers wrought in gold, a slow sense of unease grew in her mind. A stag’s antlers usually symbolized Artemis. Was this her temple? Iphigenia had always called Artemis the Moon Lady and swore that the goddess was close to Maa. Why then should the sight of these curling majestic antlers bring such disquiet? Myrina forced herself to urge the girls on, giving the strange building a wide berth.
It was not long before huts and houses merged into a great sprawl that must form the outskirts of a city. Could this be the city of Tauris?
At last her suspicions were confirmed as they saw down below them the inlet that formed a perfect safe harbor. The cliffs curved around on either side so that they almost met, leaving just a narrow passageway for a ship to pass through into safety.
“Is this it?” Phoebe asked. “A city built into a steep hillside?”
Myrina nodded. “I think so.”
They stopped to ask a woman who passed them. “Is this the city they call Tauris?”
“Yes,” she answered sharply. “Of course this is Tauris. Where else could it be?”
After the friendliness they’d found in the seaside villages, this response was something of a shock, but Myrina reminded herself that Kuspada had told her that strangers were unwelcome in Tauris. He’d even spoken of them sacrificing those who were shipwrecked and washed ashore in the harbor. Could this be the trouble that threatened Iphigenia? But in her mirror vision Myrina had seen her being saved from the sea and welcomed, or so it had seemed. Did the Taurians keep a victim in comfort for a while and then sacrifice her in the spring? Myrina had heard of such things and that explanation would fit the picture, but how much more terrible such a threat would be to Iphigenia. To be threatened with sacrifice once was bad enough, but twice would be too much for anyone to bear! She could not speak this dread out loud for fear of terrifying the girls. Why had she not brought Coronilla, she berated herself, and left Tamsin and Phoebe safe with the River People?
Hesitantly she asked a man if he could suggest a safe place for them to camp, but he swore at her and went on his way. Myrina could easily have knocked the fellow to the ground, but she knew that wouldn’t help. She realized with growing apprehension that it would be easy to make a dangerous move in the wrong direction and lose all chance of helping Iphigenia. The coolness that she sensed in the Taurians made her feel more friendless than ever before. What a fool she’d been! The girls were so vulnerable here, even though they were both as brave as bears and trusted her completely.
But Myrina was not allowed to dwell on this. “What now?” Tamsin questioned her mother with simple practicality.
Myrina forced herself to stay calm and act sensibly. Her eyes swept the surrounding landscape. “Over there, where a copse of trees shelters the mouth of a cave, there’s good grass for grazing. I don’t see why we should not set up our camp.”
The mares deserved a rest and feed; nobody would want to buy them if they didn’t give them time to fatten themselves after such a journey. As they moved toward the spot, Phoebe raised her hand to her ear, her tiger senses all alert. “I can hear running water,” she said.
They discovered a clear stream that rippled out from the mouth of a cave. “This is a wonderful place to make camp,” said Tamsin.
Myrina agreed. She looked around again, surprised that others were not of the same mind. The spot had everything that anyone could want: shelter, trees, fresh grass, and clear water. In the distance they could see tents and huts open to the rain, wind, and dust. Why didn’t those people camp here? Was it sacred ground? A momentary doubt troubled her, but then she shook her head, swung down from Big Chief’s back, and led him to the stream. The water was sweet, and both horses and riders drank their fill.
They noticed an old woman sitting in the mouth of the cave with a girl who looked just a little older than Phoebe. The cave dwellers did not smile or raise a hand in welcome, but at least they did not drive them away. They merely watched with quiet curiosity. Myrina sighed; such behavior seemed to be the way around here.
Tamsin led Snowboots away from the water, but all the while she smiled and glanced toward the cave. “We’ll make friends with them.” She spoke with perfect confidence.
Phoebe was more cautious. “But do they wish to be friends?” she asked.
They set up their tent and made a roped corral for the horses, more to mark them as their property than to keep them from straying. They built a small fire and ate some of the flat bread, smoked fish, and goat’s cheese that they had managed to buy the day before. Nobody came near them, but the old woman and the young girl continued to watch them warily. Though Myrina kept glancing in their direction, she saw no sign of the cave dwellers eating their own evening meal.
“No dancing tonight,” Myrina told the girls. They both nodded, understanding that they’d be wise not to draw attention to themselves.
Myrina quashed the urge to take some sort of urgent action, for good sense told her that what she needed first was information. She needed to hear the latest gossip—to know what was going on in the place. But as nobody seemed to want to come anywhere near them, she realized that gathering information was going to be difficult.
She glanced thoughtfully over toward the cave mouth and at last she smiled at Tamsin. “I think you had the right idea, Little Lizard—let’s go and see if we can make friends. Let’s take the cave dwellers a bit of bread and cheese.”
Tamsin rose to her feet with confidence. She was excellent at making friends; she’d had the Sinta girls and boys eating out of the palm of her hand in minutes. Phoebe also got up, giving Myrina a nervous smile. “I’m sure you are right, Snake Lady, but they do not look the most welcoming of strangers.”
Myrina nodded and touched her shoulder. “It’s good to be wary, Young Tiger.”
They walked over toward the two women, Tamsin marching boldly ahead, but the older woman got up and, with a swift angry glance at the intruders, slid back into the dark shadowy interior of the cave mouth.
Myrina and Phoebe stopped for a moment, disconcerted, but Tamsin strode on, determinedly holding out a hunk of bread and cheese. She shouted out loud in the Sinta tongue that she’d been learning all winter. “For you! This food is for you!”
The cave girl leaped quickly to her feet, heading for the darkness as though she would follow the old woman inside, but when she saw the flat bread she hesitated, paused, and licked her lips. She seemed to understand Tamsin’s invitation and there was no doubt that she wanted the food.
“For you!” Tamsin cried again.
The cave girl took a nervous step toward them. It seemed that Tamsin’s instincts were working well, for the girl snatched the bread and began to eat it hungrily.
Myrina caught Phoebe by the arm and pulled her down to sit on the grass beside her at a little distance, making it clear that they did not wish to intrude further.
The girl, too, dropped to her haunches, whimpering a little as she continued to eat hungrily. Tamsin stood over her, hands on hips, a huge smile of triumph on her face. She insisted on making encouraging noises as the girl ate, patting her belly and smacking her lips, using the Scythian words that she’d learned from her Sinta friends. “Good food, eh! Fill up the belly! You are welcome!”
The girl ate like a savage animal, but every now and then she nodded at them, making her gratitude clear. When at last she’d finished eating she dusted down her clothes with surprising delicacy, then turning to them she spoke in the Scythian language. “I thank you,” she said, her voice surprisingly clear and refined.
“Ha!” Tamsin turned to her mother with delight. “I knew we could make friends!”
“You were very hungry.” Myrina spoke to the girl with warm sympathy as she and Phoebe at last moved a little closer. “Here is more food for the old one,” she said, putting another small parcel of bread and cheese down on the rock. Now they could see that the girl was dressed in clothes that had once been beautiful, but were fast becoming filthy rags. Her legs were bruised and covered in sores.
Then suddenly Phoebe moved forward, smiling and clicking her fingers. She pointed to a worn set of silver finger cymbals that dangled from the girl’s belt. The girl looked puzzled, but Phoebe raised her hands above her head as though she were dancing, clicking her fingers in a fast rhythm and twirling.
“Ahh!” Myrina saw the cymbals and understood. “She is a dancer!”
“A dancer, like us!” Tamsin turned to Myrina with surprise. “You were wrong about that, Snake Mother; we should have danced tonight.”
Without another word Tamsin and Phoebe launched themselves into one of the energetic horse dances that they knew so well, full of stamping feet and tossing heads.
The girl’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but she recovered quickly, pulling the finger cymbals from her belt. She set them clattering at once in time to the rhythm that the girls had set; their bell-like tone was true, even though they looked very old and battered.
In an instant she was dancing with them, her own feet stamping in time with theirs. She copied each movement that they made, instinctively knowing which way they would turn next. Myrina laughed with pleasure and began a steady clap to accompany them. She thought she saw a movement in the dark recesses of the cave and felt sure that the old woman was watching them. How could she not be?