I could not see him. I could not see anything. I was lost in a haze of mist.
“Papita?” I could not find him.
“Doricha,” he called. And someone shook my shoulder hard.
I whirled and saw Aidne standing beside me.
“Doricha!” She reached for me with clawed fingers. Her mouth curled into a triumphant smile. I struggled to free myself. Her hands gripped my shoulders like iron.
“Dori!” Aidne screamed my name again.
I shuddered.
“Dori….” she called. “Dori!”
I jolted awake, my lungs heaving for breath.
The voice was both a woman’s and real.
Chapter Six
Not a woman, but Mara, her forehead creased in worry.
“Are you awake?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. My tongue felt thick. I reached for wine to ease my raw throat. My nose was stuffy and my head ached abominably. “What is it? Have I missed the meal?”
Mara helped me to stand. “You must come at once! It’s your mother. Her pains began early this morning, but she did not want to ruin your ceremony.” She glanced meaningfully at my bandaged hands.
“Is everything all right? Is my brother born?” How could I have missed his birth?
Concern gave my feet wings and erased the last traces of my night visions. I cupped my bandaged hands around the goblet and tried not to slosh the wine over the edge of my cup.
“Her labor is coming too early--her birth canal has not yet softened. She’s holding up well, though. The healers say it will be some time before the babe arrives. I thought you’d like to be there.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” I said.
Mara eyed my bandaged palms. “Does it hurt much?”
I took a sip of wine and winced. My nose began to tingle.
“What? Oh, no. Not much.” I swiped my fingertips under my nose and tried to sound brave. No use frightening Mara before her own patterns were inked. A dubious look crossed her sweet face, but she nodded and fell silent as we approached my mother’s chamber.
“Mamita!” I flew to across the room to her, heedless of the wine dripping on to the stone floor like fragrant drops of blood. I scarcely noticed the two women crouched on the far side of the room, or the girl by the fire.
My mother lay on her side on the straw pallet. Her lovely hair was plastered to her head with perspiration, and her face seemed very pale and drawn. But she smiled at the sound of my voice and turned her enormous eyes on me. I set my goblet of wine to the side and knelt beside her.
“Doricha.” She reached out a hand to me. “I knew you would come. How…” she paused and blew her breath out in one forceful huff. “How went your assignment with the artisan?”
It was a point in itself, the attention she lavished on me despite my brother’s impending birth and her own pain. I held out my bandaged hands for her to unwrap.
“Oh,” she breathed. “They will be lovely, when you heal. They remind me a little of my own.” I glanced at the patterns crusted with my dried blood and shook my head. They were not nearly as fine as hers.
“I shall believe it when the swelling is gone.” I smiled to reassure her. “How is my brother?”
“He is….” Another gasp of pain escaped her lips. “He is well, I think. They say his head has not turned to the proper placement for birth. I will not lie to you, Doricha. It will not be an easy time. You must be brave for me.” Her words sliced my heart. I hated that she was in such pain.
“Humph!” said one of the women, wiping my mother’s brow. “Her pains come too close. It will not be long.”
“The girl should go. There will be much blood here,” remarked the other with a frown.
“No!” My mother and I voiced the same objection. “Please, let her stay. She is a strong daughter. She will not faint or turn away at the sight of blood. Will you, Doricha?”
I thought of the crimson rivers I had seen on the night my father was killed. I pictured the cooling life’s blood seeping from the man I struck down and shivered.
“No.” I shook my head. “I will not turn away.”
“She will be a hindrance! What can she do with her hands bandaged thus?” asked the first. “Send her away, Sita, until the child is born.”
“I will not.” My mother grimaced again.
“Be reasonable! There is little enough room here.” They continued to argue until the girl turned from the fire that glinted along the dull lengths of her red hair.
“Let her stay. She may aid me.” It was Suvra!
A look passed between the two women. It was a glance I have often thought back on, and wondered at its portent. But such mysteries are hidden from me now, just as they were then. I was too shocked by Suvra’s interference and too full of the birth of my brother that I did not think to question their swift acquiescence.
“Very well, heat some water, girl, if you can manage. The other one must leave.” The woman shooed Mara out of the room.
“She will manage.” Suvra grabbed at the vessel. I followed her to the fire. Her oily gaze settled on my bandaged hands. “How do you fare?” she whispered.
“They only sting a little, now. The wine helped.” I glanced at my mother being helped to a squatting position. One of the women held a cup to my mother’s lips. How close was the birth?
“The herbs. Aidne sent them to ease your pain.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, my eyes on my mother as she grunted her way through another birth pain. “I didn’t know she cared so much for my comfort.”
“Oh, yes. She insisted I have the wine prepared for your return. She mixed the batch herself.” Suvra’s face flushed. “After all, you are kin.”
My mother gave a sharp cry. She clutched her middle and the women hovered around her like insects.
“Bring the water,” one of them snapped.
I rushed to her, afraid to do anything, afraid to do nothing.
“Ohhhh,” my mother panted and clutched her abdomen. “The pain!”
The room was unbearably hot and thick with the stench of womanhood and sweat. My nose and cheeks tingled as if swollen, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.
The two women hovered, one at each elbow balancing my mother in a crouch between them. My mother’s legs buckled and all three of them nigh collapsed.
“Steady, Sita! You cannot rest just yet.”
My mother moaned and panted like a wild animal. Her lank hair hung over her eyes. Another cry erupted from her throat and suddenly there was a wet, smacking sound. I stared at the chiton rucked up between her legs and saw it was stained and dripping. Fluid puddled on the stone floor beneath her.
“There now, your waters have burst. The babe will move down out of your womb.”
“Something…wrong. I can…ugh!...feel it.” My mother slurred her words and continued to clutch her stomach.
“Give her more wine!” I cried.
“We have no more to give her, girl. I doubt it would do much good anyway. She won’t keep it down.” One of the women wiped the sweat from my mother’s brow.
My mother wailed again.
“Use mine,” I said and thrust my goblet in their hands.
Another look passed between the midwives before they reacted.
“As you say, girl.” They poured it down her throat, and I encouraged them, thinking it would ease her pain, as it had mine.
“Look!” one of the women cried. She pointed to the mess on the floor. There, in the life giving waters of my mother’s womb was the unmistakable tinge of red.
My mother screamed again, and trembled between the unforgiving women. A gush of bright blood flooded the skirt of her chiton and ran down her legs. She cried aloud.
“Mother!” I moved to her side. Her fists flailed out and caught me full on the left cheekbone. I think she struck me out of agony, but the women misunderstood.
“Get back, you foolish girl!” one chided. “She doesn’t want you. Here, Sita. Bend your
knees and try to relax your womb.”
“Gods,” my mother shrieked. “Help me!”
I covered my face with my hands as the panic in her voice set chill bumps along my arm. Agony and fear drowned the murmurs of the two women and everywhere was blood, blood….
“Get Aidne,” one of the women barked at Suvra.
“But…she said….” Suvra’s voice trailed away and she eyed the overturned wine goblet on the floor.
“It is not right! This is too much. Now go, and the gods claim us all if you are too late!”
Suvra glanced once at me and then hiked up her skirts and ran from the room.
My mother grunted and strained, her body working to free her unborn child from the confines of her unyielding womb. Her face turned red from the strain. As she pushed, I prayed.
Dionysus, hear my plea. Help us. Bendis, Earth Mother, watch over us.
It seemed like several lifetimes before Aidne arrived carrying a goatskin pouch. Hours of watching helplessly as my mother strained and raved like a wild woman. It takes only moments to get from one section of the hall, from another. Aidne did not appear to have hurried.
“So,” Aidne said, after my mother finished bearing down. “It comes to this.”
My poor mother was exhausted. I did not think she could possibly face Aidne’s hatred and so I moved between them.
“Please,” I begged. “Do something. If you know what is to be done, do it!”
Aidne considered me for a moment and then moved to where my mother dangled between the two women. She brushed the hair from my mother’s face and gazed at her unfocused eyes. Her hand lingered on my mother’s cheek.
“Ah, Sita…how you must wish Delus had never come between us,” she crooned. “To see you brought so low by his seed….”
I do not know if my mother was coherent; she was too far gone with pain and the wine. I think perhaps she was, for she drew her bobbing head back as far as she could and spat in Aidne’s direction. It spattered across Aidne’s face and neck like a bitter storm. And then, my mother laughed.
“You were never so close to my heart as you might…ugnh…have wished, Aidne. You taught me the skills of a Bacchae, nothing more.” And she laughed again and cried at the same time.
I froze.
Aidne’s face turned to creamy stone. “You were the most beloved of devotees! You were meant to serve the gods, not some mere mortal!” Her eyes bored into my mother with such force that I was sure it would kill.
“And what of you, Aidne? Were you not a mere mortal?” my mother asked weakly. The women on either side turned their faces to the walls, as Aidne’s gaze raked across them, over Suvra crouched by the door, and finally rested on me.
Fear lanced my heart. She took a menacing step towards me, and the toe of her sandal caught the overturned wine cup on the floor. Aidne glanced once at it, and a crease appeared between her brows. Her eyes flickered towards me. Then, like a serpent uncoiling, she smiled. Sadness touched her eyes, but she smiled.
Aidne whirled to face her two assistants. “You two. Take the babe.”
“What?” I cried. She would not dare!
“You should not do this, Aidne. It is not for you to say.” One of the women glowered at her. “Get the ktístai. Bring Merikos.”
“No! Leave Merikos out of this. He has done nothing to merit your wrath, Aidne.” My mother lunged at her, but the women held her and another pain forced her to her knees.
“Has he not? “Aidne seemed unconvinced. “We shall see.” Aidne jerked her chin towards the door. Suvra blinked once and rushed from the room. “Now, lay Sita back on the pallet.”
“No,” I said. “Wait.” I struggled to make sense of what was happening, but my head felt stuffed with wool.
Aidne turned her dark eyes on me. “You stay silent or it will be the worst for you.”
Mother was too exhausted to fight them. My mind rambled from shock of the situation and herbed wine. I put a hand on my cheeks, where my face ached both from the strike of her fist and from the constant tickle in my nose.
Aidne drew forth a small parcel of goatskin. She laid it on the stool and knelt beside the thrashing body of my mother. With steady hands, Aidne unfolded the many flaps of the parcel to reveal its contents.
It was a set of sharpened stone blades.
“No.” My mother moaned. “Aidne, please, no! You cannot do this!” Her hands fisted in the manacles of the other women’s grasp.
Aidne was unmoved.
“He’s just a child. A babe. The gods will never condone your actions. Please,” my mother babbled. “Please, Aidne. For my sake.”
Aidne’s hands paused.
“You are nothing to me, Sita. No more than a cow giving birth. You brought this upon yourself when you turned your back on the Bacchae to lie with that unsanctified wretch.”
My mother sobbed and sank back on the pallet. “Take me, if you need your revenge, then.”
Aidne spat in the dust and drew the stained chiton up and over the mound of my mother’s abdomen. She removed a small animal bladder from her pack. When she had loosened the leather thong, she dipped a long finger into the bladder and drew forth a nasty black powder.
“How much did she drink?” Aidne asked, dodging my mother’s feeble kicks. She drew a greasy, dark line down my mother’s heaving abdomen. The older women looked frightened. I forced myself to inch closer.
“How much?” Aidne demanded again. “How much before it spilled?”
“Almost the cup.”
“And before? Did she take wine before then?”
The women glanced at each other before answering. “She’s been taking doses for weeks. Two full goblets since this morning, and then the girl brought more.”
Aidne’s eyes slid towards me.
“Yes…I saw.” The way she drew out her words sounded even more serpentine than usual. “Listen well! Sita’s had too much pennyroyal. She will most likely die, though I meant only for her to suffer the loss of Delus’ seed. The girl’s wine was laced with it for her initiation. If Sita drank it...we must take the child now.”
“What?” I cried. “No!”
My mother began a keening high pitched wail that rattled the walls of the chamber. I covered my ears with my hands and sobbed beside her, determined not to let this terrible thing happen. Aidne lied, she had always lied. She meant to murder my mother, and I vowed to do whatever I must to stop her.
The stone knife glinted in the firelight, sharp and polished fine. Aidne wet both sides of it with her tongue, drawing her own blood. It stained her teeth.
Where to strike first, to save my mother and my unborn brother? The back of her head? Would she drop the knife, then?
A commotion at the entrance halted Aidne’s hands as surely as my fist would have.
“What goes here?” Merikos’ voice rang with disbelief.
Behind him, Suvra and several white robed ktístai hovered in the hall. Merikos’ eyes were filled with rage at the sight of us. My mother, wailing and bloody, sitting upright on the pallet, Aidne with the knife poised in her hand, and myself hovering behind her with my fists clenched and raised.
“Why have we been summoned?” he demanded. My heart lifted at the tone of his magical voice. He would protect us; he could aid my mother!
“It is Sita.” Aidne said. She lifted her chin and stared defiantly at Merikos. “The child has not turned and Sita’s waters have burst. We must take the child, and now, or they will both surely die.”
She did not mention her poisoned wine. Merikos’ face turned ashen. Behind him the sacred priests began whispering.
Merikos knelt beside my mother, murmuring in his gentle way, and soon my mother stopped her wild cries and fell silent. Her body still racked from the labors of birthing, she let him stroke the hair from her face. “Gentle, now,” he said. “Gentle.”
“Leave me, Merikos. She has us all,” my mother slurred. Her head drooped to her chest and she struggled to raise it again.
“Wh-what’s wrong with her?” Merikos’ voice cracked.
“She has been drugged!” I exclaimed, finally finding my lost courage. “I heard them talking. Aidne put herbs in her wine and it’s killing her.” I pointed a finger at the woman still poised with a knife suspended over my precious brother.
“How dare you spread such lies, girl!” Aidne barked. “It was your own hand that poisoned your mother. Not mine!” Everyone stared at me.
“I did not,” I said. “How could I?”
“There. In your own cup. You forced these women to pour wine from your cup into your mother. A full cup, they said. Do you deny it?”
My legs started to tremble. I could not deny it. “I…I did not…I thought only to ease her pain.”
“Everyone knows the perils of ingesting too much pennyroyal,” Aidne spat.
Merikos looked horrified, full of disbelief. “You cannot expect us to believe the girl poisoned her own mother. What reason would she have for such a god-cursed act?” His voice was strained.
And Aidne smiled, a slow, mocking twist carving the flesh of her cheeks into a feral curve.
“What reason, indeed, Merikos? Can you think of none?”
Merikos was silent. He frowned at Aidne and then glanced between her and me. It was as if the entire balance of the world rested on that one moment.
Aidne stood and placed the knife on the stool. “This girl has entered into an unsanctioned alliance with the priest Merikos. I have heard it from one who heard it from the girl’s own lips.”
“That is a lie!” Merikos thundered.
“I do not lie,” Suvra called. She pushed her way into the already crowded room. “I heard Doricha tell him she loved him, and later, he put his hands on her. Here.” She fondled her breast.
“The girl as much as admitted to me that Merikos has been her lover.” Aidne lied. “He could not have the one, so he took the other.” Merikos squinted at me and shook his head.
“You,” he whispered. His face was white as death. “You said this about me?”
“No!” I said. “I would never!” My heart raged. I did not do this thing.
“There are other witnesses if you wish to call them before you, if my words are not enough. But the mother and child will both die before all is made plain.” Aidne rocked back on her heels, confident in the power of her voice, of her commanding presence over us all in that tiny, blood dark room. Merikos’ eyes darted back and forth between the priests and Aidne and I saw his fists clench.
HETAERA: Daughter of the Gods Page 7