Voyage of the Snake Lady (19 page)
Myrina could not help but smile to hear this.
“Well . . . he must be a fine fellow, this Kuspada,” Seris told her generously, “to win so quick and fierce a snake lady’s heart.”
Myrina took his hand and pressed it with gratitude. “I will never forget that your skills saved all our lives. I want us to part as friends!”
“We are friends,” Seris agreed. “And I will never forget the Snake Lady, who stabbed me in the heart, then patched me up! But . . . I know when I am beaten. I think we had better get to our beds now if my master will insist that we set sail again so soon!”
T
HOUGH THERE WAS
reluctance on the part of Daris and Ira to let them go, both Orestes and Myrina insisted that they must travel on. Seris swallowed his disappointment bravely and barked at his crew until they understood that their moment of bliss had passed and they must return to the old, hard life. Tamsin and Phoebe felt a great sadness at the thought of leaving Iphigenia and their new friends, but the promise of a long adventurous journey raised their spirits and sent them fettling their bows and sharpening their arrows.
“Soon I will ride at Leni’s side.” Phoebe looked forward to that.
“Yes.” Tamsin smiled. “We will be Moon Riders again.”
The whole of the next day was spent preparing to leave, and this time the ship was loaded to the gunwales with butts of fresh water, grain, oatmeal, dates, figs, salted fish, and smoked meats of every kind. The hull was newly patched, pitched, and painted. The following morning they were up before the dawn, and it seemed the whole population of the Isle of Marble had risen early to see them on their way. They all gathered on the beach carrying torches, but before crew and passengers went aboard, Myrina made an announcement.
“Now we Moon Riders must make some small return for the Marble Islanders’ hospitality,” she said. “We bring you the blessing of Maa!”
Iphigenia came forward with Phoebe and Tamsin on either side of her, their brows decked with silver circlets and a crescent moon. The islanders gasped with delight when they saw them and moved back to make a space for them.
The four Moon Riders joined hands, and there on the beach as the sun came up, they danced to welcome the day. Myrinus accompanied them with a steady drum beat, and his parents stood hand in hand watching proudly. They followed it with the Dance of Blessing, which would bring fertility and safety to the islanders for many years to come. As they finished, the king and queen went to kiss them. Instead of applauding, the islanders reverently whispered their thanks.
“I had thought you’d forgotten the Moon Riders’ dance,” Daris told Myrina.
“No, never!” Myrina shook her head fiercely.
“I am glad of that,” he said.
Then it was time to lead Big Chief calmly up the gangplank, his coat sleek with grooming and his belly full; Snowboots, Sandmane, and Moonbeam followed on.
Myrina hugged her host and hostess again. “I cannot thank you enough!” she whispered. “I fear we may not meet again!”
The young king kissed her on both cheeks and laughed. “Snake Lady! That is what you said last time! I do not believe you! The Isle of Marble is always here for you.”
They sailed away, southward down through the Dardanelles toward the Hellespont, as the sun rose to its zenith. Through the morning they made steady progress, but the sea grew choppy as the two coastlines drew close together. The narrow passageway of water that linked the Sea of Marmara to the Aegean was busy with heavily loaded cargo ships, for since the defeat of Troy there were now no dues to be paid and water traffic passed freely up and down.
“What are they all carrying?” Myrina asked.
“They carry butts of olive oil and pottery to the Caucasus Mountains and bring back grain and iron,” Seris told her.
“Father always told us it was the waterway the Achaeans really wanted,” said Myrina. “It seems he was right.”
Iphigenia listened sadly. “Was I to be sacrificed for a waterway?” she murmured.
Myrina stroked her friend’s arm. “Many were sacrificed,” she said.
The ship lurched up and down as the waves grew, so that the passengers clung unsteadily to the balustrades of the afterdeck while they passed the mountains of Thrace to the west and the empty desolation that was once Priam’s kingdom to the east.
As they drew close to the narrowest point, despite the swinging of the deck, Myrina prepared to leave, giving Seris and the girls a nod.
“Furl the sail!” Seris cried.
Myrina went to where Big Chief was tethered, but the wind rose so sharply that she had to grab hold of the stanchion, dropping her baggage to soothe the beasts. The
Castor and Pollux
started to toss wildly up and down as the sky turned black and a heavy rain began to pelt down on them. Many aboard cried out in alarm.
“Not again,” Myrina grumbled, trying to shelter at Big Chief’s side.
“Back the oars!” Seris bellowed, trying desperately to hold the ship against the violent tipping of the waves.
“There’ll be no putting ashore now,” Myrina told herself. It seemed the fates were blocking her every decision.
The wind blew to such a pitch that Seris had every man hauling on the oars, just to keep the vessel from ramming into the coast; no hope of making a landing. The suddenness of the storm had caught other vessels unawares, and they heard the dreadful crack that came from two small fishing boats that clashed together and lurched to the side, sinking fast.
The
Castor and Pollux
was carried helplessly down the narrow channel of the Hellespont and out into the open sea as the sky went darker still and lightning flashed across the sky. A great rumble of thunder followed another flash that caught the mast. The horses screamed and reared as the heavy wooden pole first cracked and then crashed down onto the terrified oarsmen, sending the ship spinning wildly around. Myrina could do nothing but cower beneath the stanchion, her face lashed with rain. She tried hopelessly to soothe Big Chief, but the horses snaked their heads in terror and it was hard to avoid their trampling hooves.
“
Cush! Cush!”
she whispered.
Seris shouted orders that his crew had no hope of obeying. The ship spun wildly onward, tossed by huge waves.
“The sea god is angry!”
“We should not have come!”
“Poseidon save us!”
“Why not stay safe on the Isle of Marble?”
At last the terrible whirling seemed to slow down a little, and the darkness began to lift. Myrina climbed out of the space where she’d been hiding to see that they were being carried in a great rush past a coastline that seemed somehow familiar to her. As she gazed up at the dark mound in the distance, topped with crumbling towers and broken walls, she understood that they had been blown off course and carried east in quite the opposite direction from Athens. That desolate mound, with its cracked walls that stood like broken teeth against the returning sun, must be the shattered remains of Troy.
Iphigenia struggled to her side. “Is that the ruined city?” she whispered.
“Oh yes,” Myrina told her.
The fall of the mast had killed two of Seris’s men outright and badly crushed five more. Myrina forced her own concerns away and staggered down the deck to help those who were hurt. Iphigenia and the two girls bravely worked with her, binding wounds and clearing up the mess of blood and vomit.
Seris endeavored simply to keep his ship afloat, while Orestes and Pylades took orders from him, trying frantically to stuff a leaking hole and hack free the broken mast to prevent it dragging the ship right over onto its side.
A watery sun broke through the clouds, and though the waves had subsided, it seemed they were now being carried along by a powerful current. They looked desperately for a sandy cove, toward which they might try to steer the tipping vessel. The coast was nothing but rocks and cliffs and they had little daylight left to them, as the sun was already beginning to set.
Seris gave the steering oar to Orestes and Pylades while he stumbled the full length of the ship to stand in the prow, feverishly scanning the horizon. Then suddenly he shouted and pointed wildly ahead of them. “Run for shelter!”
“Where, man?” Orestes bellowed.
“An island, with a sandy beach!”
They all turned to look where he pointed and saw that he was right. Ahead of them, just a little way out from the coast, was a small island with a high hill in the middle and a building perched on top of it. Myrina struggled toward the prow, staring at the sight ahead; she had the strangest sense of having seen this place before but couldn’t think when. Had she dreamed it? No name would come to mind, but it did have a fine sandy beach.
Seris went back to the stern to see if they could turn the heavy steering oar and heave the lopsided vessel in the direction they wanted. The strong current that carried them eastward threatened to wash them farther out to sea, completely missing this safe haven.
“Hold tight! Hold tight!” Seris warned as the three of them threw their weight together to force the steering oar around.
Everyone obeyed, grabbing tight hold of the gunwales or the stanchions. Myrina braced herself on the balustrades as the creaking ship swung about. The strange sense of recognition fled from her mind—all she wanted now was to survive and crawl ashore.
“Tamsin!” she cried.
“I’ve got her!” Phoebe answered.
“Hold tight,” Seris cried again. “Now!”
Seris could not prevent the impact; all he could do was steer for the softest-looking sandbank as he drove his ship aground.
The
Castor and Pollux
slid forward almost smoothly, then stuck with a sickening lurch that sent many of those aboard flying the full length of the deck. Myrina heard Big Chief and his mares protesting and then the scrape of their hooves as they skidded wildly on the deck. There were more cracking sounds as part of the thwarts shattered, then sudden quietness.
The balustrade that Myrina clung to gave way and she slipped into shallow water that broke her fall. She scrambled quickly to her feet, grateful to find that though she was soaking wet and badly bruised, all her limbs were still attached and working.
Her first thought as ever was for the girls. “Tamsin, Phoebe!” she bellowed. Two answering calls told her that they, too, were alive. Next she whistled for Big Chief, but she need not have worried about him; she was answered by a surprised snort far ahead on the darkening beach.
“Snake Lady, are you safe?” It was Orestes’ voice close to her. She could see the dark shape of him as he hauled himself upright ahead of her.
“A light!” he called. “A light ahead. People are coming—is this help or hindrance?
Myrina turned and saw that there were indeed two figures moving down toward them from the hillside where she had seen the building with a tower.
Orestes moved protectively in front of her and at the same time she found Iphigenia at her side. She grasped her hand, grateful that she, too, had survived. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Iphigenia’s voice was calm as ever. “Not hurt at all!”
“Nothing seems to trouble you,” Myrina said, a touch of resentment in her voice.
“But we are safe.” Iphigenia spoke with certainty, her voice warm and confident. “You must know that we are safe!”
Myrina’s sense of the familiarity of the place returned at once. “I thought . . .” she murmured. “I thought I knew this place, but . . .”
Iphigenia laughed; a strange sound among so much wreckage. “You and I have both been here in spirit,” she said. “We have nothing to fear!”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A Place of Safety
M
YRINA COULD SEE
the pale oval of her friend’s face in the dim light and the whiteness of her teeth as she smiled. If Iphigenia swore that they were safe, then perhaps they were.
Orestes marched ahead of them, his sword ready in his hand. Now they could see the two figures much more clearly: one was tall and slender and carried two gleaming oil lamps in either hand; the other, marching ahead, was a young boy. He carried a strong staff to help him walk, but as Myrina saw the strange shadow that followed his every movement, she gave a small joyful cry of recognition. Now she knew where they were.
She reached out for Iphigenia’s hand. “I can’t believe it! Young Chryse and Cassandra!”
Iphigenia could hardly speak for the tears of joy that welled up in her throat. “But it is true . . .” she stammered. “We are really here on the island of Sminthe and . . . I am to meet my other little brother at last!”
The magical gray shadow swirled about the boy’s feet, and every step he took brought forward a swarm of dark mouse bodies that rippled together as though they were one. But when the boy saw Orestes coming toward him, sword at the ready, he raised his strong staff in both hands and rushed forward aggressively.
Orestes pulled back, seeing this was little more than a child; but as the boy ran at him, he was forced to put up his sword to defend himself.
“Stop! Stop at once!” The tall slim woman who carried the lamps hurried forward and Myrina and Iphigenia saw with delight that it was their dear Cassandra, a little older looking and not quite as thin as she used to be.
“Put away your weapons!” Cassandra ordered. “You would not attack your brother, would you?”
Orestes and the Mouse Boy both stopped at once, utterly amazed.
Myrina and Iphigenia could not speak; their eyes had filled with tears, but huge smiles spread across their faces.
“Wh-who are you speaking to?” Chryse turned to Cassandra in confusion.
“I am speaking to you both! For you two are brothers!”
Orestes looked from the strange boy to the older woman. “Then you . . . must be Cassandra, Princess of Troy!”
She smiled at him. “That was long ago! Now I am priestess of the temple here. I serve both Sminthean Apollo and Maa.”
Orestes stood still, amazed and helpless, his sword still dangling in his hand.
“Send your men up to the temple.” Cassandra took charge, holding out a lantern. “There is food and shelter for them all.”
Orestes seemed too stunned to direct his men, so Pylades strode forward, understanding the strange nature of this meeting. He took the lanterns from Cassandra and led the men up the hill. They followed him, coughing seawater from their lungs and carrying their wounded.
Orestes hung back, still shaken by what Cassandra had said. Though they now stood there in darkness, a heavy cloud rolled back, revealing a fine bright moon.
“Maa smiles down on her Moon Riders tonight,” Iphigenia whispered at last. Then she stepped forward and bent to kiss Chryse on the cheek. “I am your sister,” she told him gently, “and I have longed to meet you.”
Chryse’s mouth dropped open in wonder. “Are you Iphigenia? I should have known,” he said. “The mice were wild this afternoon, running round in a circle, faster and faster. Cassandra swore that we were to have visitors and a great blessing coming to us, but . . . when I saw the man with the sword I feared you were pirates come to steal us away.”
Everyone smiled at his words, and Tamsin came forward, holding out her hand to him. “I have heard of you,” she said.
“And I,” said Phoebe shyly.
Iphigenia got up and held her arms wide to Cassandra, a huge happy smile on her face. “I thought never to see you again!” she murmured, her voice full of emotion.
They threw their arms around each other and wept with joy. Myrina watched with tears pouring down her face. Then Cassandra looked for her and stretched out her arm. “Snake Lady!”
She went to them, and all three hugged each other and cried again with happiness.
“We three have never really been apart!” Cassandra whispered.
“No, we have not!” Myrina agreed. “But no vision can be as good as this!”
At last they raised their heads and wiped their tears away, for there were others who might need their help and a good explanation.
But Orestes was already recovering from his shock. He went down on one knee, holding his hand out to the Mouse Boy. “You must be Chryse and I know your story,” he told him. “You and I share the same father, but we have different mothers. My father did your gentle mother great harm, and for that I am truly sorry!”
Chryse eyed him uncomfortably for a moment, but then he took the offered hand and at last the two hugged each other. “You never harmed us,” Chryse whispered.
“I almost did!” Orestes held him at arm’s length again and smiled at him.
The Mouse Boy giggled. “I will fight you properly tomorrow!”
“It’s a promise,” Orestes said.
Myrina remembered the horses and whistled for Big Chief. He came at once, the mares following him, blowing happily, heads erect, glad to be on firm land again.
Chryse smiled shyly at Tamsin and Phoebe. “We’ve made a feast for you,” he told them. “Come and see.”
Tamsin marched eagerly up the beach beside him. Phoebe followed, looking older and a little awkward.
Myrina and Iphigenia walked arm in arm with Cassandra, one on either side of her. They went slowly up the hill together toward the temple hidden in the trees. Myrina hesitated halfway up the hill.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked, concerned.
“Am I really here with you or am I dreaming?”
Cassandra laughed; it was a lovely sound.
“I just can’t believe we are here,” Myrina insisted, rubbing her eyes. “I swore the fates were treating me ill, but it seems those capricious ones were kinder than I knew. If I wasn’t so wet and bruised, I’d think I was dreaming!”
“I feel as though I’m dreaming, too,” Iphigenia agreed.
As they emerged from the trees they saw ahead of them a wonderful scene. Three fires burned in braziers, and a long table was laid with food and drink. Orestes’ weary crew were already eating and drinking and warming themselves.
Myrina stopped. “You knew that we were coming!”
“Of course we knew—the mice told us.” Cassandra smiled. “But I have watched you in my dark pool every step of the way. If you had looked into your glass you would have seen me preparing your supper.”
“There was no time for mirror gazing!” Myrina told her sharply. Then they all laughed again.
Myrina ate and drank a little, but weariness blurred her mind and she could remember little more. She woke warm and dry in a simple bedchamber, on a comfortable straw-stuffed mattress, and couldn’t think where she was. How had she got to bed? Tamsin was still fast asleep beside her. She saw that Iphigenia and Phoebe slept on another mattress in the same room. It was only when she sat up and groaned as she moved her bruised legs that she remembered.
“Cassandra!” she murmured.
Gritting her teeth against the aches and pains, she got up quietly, leaving the others in peace. She wandered out into the main temple building, eager to explore. Two powerful decorated columns stood at the entrance to the temple: one bore an image of the god Apollo with his bow and arrows, sitting astride a huge mouse.
“Sminthean Apollo, the Mouse God.” She bowed to it.
The other column depicted a fat female shape, with large breasts and a swollen stomach that the woman cradled protectively with her hands.
“Maa!” Myrina smiled and bowed again. “Thank you for bringing us here.”
She turned at the sound of a footstep behind her. It was Cassandra. “Do you like my new addition?” she asked.
“You have set the image of Maa up here?”
“This place was sacred to Maa long before they built Apollo’s temple. I decided to bring her back as companion to the Mouse God. I was promised to Apollo as a child, but then I became a Moon Rider, so now that I am free to choose I give my respect to both of them.”
Myrina understood that very well. “But what did the people who live in these parts say when you changed their temple?”
Cassandra spoke with confidence. “Respect for Maa was always there, hidden away in their dances and songs. They are glad to have her restored to her proper place—you will see for yourself; they’ll be coming soon.”