Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  Tamsin laughed out loud as Snowboots turned obediently at her command.

  “Steady, Little Lizard,” Myrina warned. “Do not gallop before you can trot!”

  The women struggled to maintain their tranquility, but they could not help but send beaming smiles at one another, rejoicing in this achievement. On horseback their spirits lifted, so that the humiliation of their capture and slavery faded far into the past. If they could live in partnership with these spirited steeds, then they were truly Moon Riders once again, half-wild, magic women, full of strength and confidence.

  Myrina could not help but crow. “Mazagardi horse skills, once learned, are never forgotten!”

  Chapter Ten

  Leti

  FARA POINTED OUT to Myrina the glint of metal that she’d caught in the moonlight, over beyond the rocks and trees. “Now we have our steeds should we not charge over and rout them out?”

  But Myrina shrugged. “Let them play at peek and hide.” She laughed. “They do not seem eager to advance.”

  The horses whinnied contentedly in the bright moonlight as the Moon Riders danced and sang. That night everyone went to sleep exhausted but content.

  Startling wild cries from the horses woke them just as the first fingers of light crept across the sky. The Moon Riders struggled to their feet, snatching up their bows at once. As they emerged from their shelters the sight that met their eyes filled them with fury. A small group of men rode fast among the horses, roping whichever beasts they could reach, sending terror racing through the herd that they had worked so hard and so patiently to win.

  “Maa take them!”

  “Curse their hides!”

  “Who was on watch?”

  Myrina strode down toward the river, whipping an arrow from her quiver and bending her bow. She was furious with the thieves and furious with herself. She’d been so pleased with their achievements, so exhausted at the end of the day, that she’d forgotten to set a watch. The women followed in her wake, swearing beneath their breaths, unwilling to scream out their rage for fear of sending the horses into further panic. But though they were at a disadvantage, still bleary eyed from sleep, they nocked their arrows and sent them flying fast toward the now fleeing men. Leti managed to catch her chosen horse running wild and distressed toward the camp. She leaped astride and raced after them, screaming abuse.

  “No!” Myrina bellowed after her. “Come back. They are not worth the risk!”

  But Leti’s fury made her deaf to all commands and, as she hurtled after them, her anger grew. She loosed her arrows and brought two of the men down. But the thieves were also armed with bows and they turned easily on horseback to swat this bothersome fly that would not be shaken off.

  “Ah . . . Leti!” the women gasped. They saw her fall, two arrows in her chest.

  “Vermin!” Fara cried, wildly looking for her own chosen horse among the panicking herd. “I will kill them! They shall feel my darts!”

  “No!” Myrina shouted, racing after her. “I forbid it!”

  “Stupid, ignorant ones,” Fara went on, venting her rage. “Such cowards! They raid us like wicked children and run away!” She vaulted up onto the back of her chosen one, but saw that the women were looking again into the distance.

  The men had turned their horses back and dismounted close to where Leti lay. It seemed they were stooping to examine her body.

  Phoebe was fearful. “What will they do to her?”

  “Oh Leti!” Tamsin trembled.

  “Whatever they do, Leti will not know,” Akasya told them, putting her arms about both girls. “She could not take two arrows in the chest like that and live. Ah Leti . . . why? They were not worth it.”

  Fara’s spitting rage turned to desperate sorrow, so that she raised her head and howled like a wild dog, making her new, nervous steed skitter dangerously. Myrina’s heart was heavy as she went to her. “Come to me, Fara!” she ordered. “Dismount!”

  The young girl fell forward and slipped down from the beast’s back. Myrina caught her and held her tightly, rocking her, as Fara sobbed wildly in her arms.

  Kora watched it all from the higher hillside. She muttered fearfully at the sight of the mares galloping frantically in and out of the stream, crying wildly and rearing up and down. At last she gathered the courage to come down to join her friends.

  “I told you so! You cannot tame such wild ones!” she insisted. “I told you so!”

  “Yes we can!” Myrina answered, letting go of Fara, who was now a little calmer. “They are terrified now, but we must start again—almost at the beginning, but we will start again.”

  Coronilla agreed, shaking her head with bitter resignation. “We must not lose them, but we will need all our gentling skills to soothe them after this attack.”

  Myrina shrugged her shoulders. “And . . . we must start at once.”

  “What if they come back?” Kora asked.

  Myrina glanced furiously in the direction of Eagle Rocks. “We will be ready for them!” she hissed.

  A watch was set to give good warning should the horse thieves try to return. Wearily the women wandered back down to the river, burning with quiet anger but determined not to lose all that they’d gained. They began by making soothing noises and clicking sounds, pursuing their chosen one. There would be no riding, not that day—nor the next. There was much ground to be made up if the horses were to trust them again.

  It was a day of hard work and the riders struggled to be patient, but by sunset the herd were once again quietly cropping the grass and only a few stragglers had wandered away.

  That night Myrina and Coronilla agreed to perform the Ring of Fire, the most warlike of their dances. The women circled the fire, bellowing out their anger, teeth gritted, muscles tense, their movements mimicking the attack on an enemy. They swung their sticks, making them swish through the air as they howled out their rage. Their body pictures gleamed in the leaping firelight so that the strong young women made a terrifying sight.

  Down by the river the horses raised their heads and flattened their ears.

  Suddenly a cry rang out. “Watch out! They attack!” Fara had been a lookout on the hillside above.

  Myrina whirled about and led the angry Moon Riders out to meet their opponents, sticks and bows at the ready.

  It was hard to see clearly in the darkness, but it seemed that the small group of men who had raided them that morning were riding slowly out toward them, carrying torches and leading the few horses that they’d managed to rope and steal away.

  The women growled furiously at the sight of them.

  “Well—do we let them have it now?”

  “Let’s have our revenge!”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Myrina was full of energy after the exertion of the dancing and ready to fight, but something about the slow progress the men made told her that they were not threatening them this time. Myrina had never seen a war party like it; it seemed to be more of a deputation.

  As they came closer, they could see the men’s faces in the light of their torches. They appeared to have ridden out without weapons or bows. Were they returning the stolen beasts?

  “Fools! They are unarmed!” Fara snarled.

  “Brave fools!” Coronilla said.

  “What is it that they drag behind them?” Fara asked.

  “I fear it is our Leti!” Myrina told her.

  The men reached the sloping bank of the river, close to where the horses grazed, but this time they made no attempt to steal. The horses moved nervously away, but when they saw that they were not pursued, they fell to eating and drinking again. Some of the men dismounted, moving purposefully in the torchlight.

  “What are they doing? We have them in our sights,” Fara cried.

  “Wait!” Myrina commanded. “We do not attack unarmed men, however angry we may be. We are not barbarians!”

  The men bowed their heads in the direction of the Moon Riders’ camp and then remounted their horses. The
y backed away toward their own camp, leaving behind the long, low sled and four roped horses fastened to a peg in the ground.

  “Are we letting them go?” Fara was appalled.

  “Yes,” Myrina told her firmly. “Light brands from the fire! Let us see what they have left there.”

  The women moved forward cautiously as the men cantered away in the direction of Eagle Rocks. As the thud of the horses’ hooves faded into the distance, the women lowered their weapons. At last they came close and saw that it was indeed the body of Leti. She’d been carefully laid out on a wooden sled.

  “Aah, Leti!” they cried in pity.

  A necklace of amber beads had been set around her neck and flower petals sprinkled over her body.

  “What is this?” they murmured, their anger fading to sorrow and wonder.

  They touched the beads, speaking quietly with surprise and puzzlement. This was not the way a Moon Rider would be prepared for the pyre, but still they could see that Leti had been laid out with respect. At her feet were two large horsehide bags. Kora bravely reached out and opened one of them, gasping at what she found.

  “What is it?” Myrina demanded.

  “Grain.” Kora plunged her hand inside the sack and scooped up a handful of the golden seeds, letting them run through her fingers.

  “And the other?”

  “More grain.” Kora’s voice was warm with approval.

  “What is this?” Coronilla almost laughed. “An apology?”

  “Well,” said Kora, with practical good sense, “if it is, it’s an apology that we can eat and we need to eat. This is a funeral feast that’s been provided and we should not turn it down. I feared that tomorrow we would be eating grass like the horses.”

  Myrina sighed. She suddenly felt very tired, but she saw that Kora was right. “We will build a pyre and tomorrow we will dance for Leti and enjoy the strange feast that she has brought for her friends.”

  Fara nodded and wept again.

  They worked hard the next day, gentling the horses and grinding grain. Kora pounded dough and made flat bread and served up the last of the cherries. They built a pyre and danced and sang the songs of the dead. As the flames died down they sat around the embers drinking mare’s milk. Tamsin and Phoebe and the younger girls stood up to do the Dance of the Foals. They pranced and kicked and tossed their heads, their own youth and awkwardness touching the older women who watched. This was the Moon Riders’ way of giving thanks to the leggy foals who had been separated from their mothers that same day and settled to live on grass, while the newcomers stole their milk. The faint glimmer of another fire in the distance told them that the men were still camped by Eagle Rocks but didn’t try to interfere in any way.

  Though they were desperately sad to lose Leti, the taste of the grainy bread made them long for more. They wrapped themselves up in their meager clothing and settled to sleep, but despite the warm glow from Leti’s pyre, the night air was chill. Myrina found it hard to sleep, for the cold brought discomfort and also troubling fears; winter was fast arriving. They must find food and skins and better shelter or they would not survive. Perhaps Kora was right about slaughtering some of the horses.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rebellion

  THE FOLLOWING DAYS were difficult, and the Moon Riders had to dredge up all the patience they could. However, by the next full moon they were up on the backs of their chosen steeds and cantering off into the wide grasslands to hunt deer, gazelle, and boar.

  The meat they brought back kept them fed, but they could not prepare enough skins to keep everyone warm through the freezing nights. Then one night another unarmed deputation came from the watchers who camped by Eagle Rocks.

  Three young men came riding out toward them, warily leaving more bundles just above the riverbank. The women waited curiously until they had gone, then went to examine what seemed to be gifts. Kora was delighted to find more grain, and the others opened up bundles that turned out to be thick felted-woolen cloaks.

  The women could not help but be pleased and curious.

  “See here—feel the warmth of this!”

  “Do they keep sheep up there by the rocks?”

  “How have they made this felt so smooth and soft?”

  They feasted on bread and meat and slept warm through the night.

  Fara was very quiet and refused to allow them to cover her with one of the cloaks, but as the nights grew colder still, at last she crept inside and snuggled beneath the covers with the rest.

  As the days passed, it became a common sight to see the young men riding out from their rocks, leading goats and sheep and carrying more bundles of fine felt, bone needles, and strong horsehair thread. The women quickly sliced the felt and stitched it into warm tunics and trousers.

  Some of the younger Moon Riders began to look out for the strange visitors, eager to see what they might bring next. Fara overcame her reluctance and soon she was there with the others, watching for them every day.

  Once they left some pitchers of a strong grainy drink that set the women’s tongues loose and laughing.

  “Did the tall one come today?” Fara asked.

  Phoebe nodded and giggled. “And the smaller one who limps a little!”

  “Why did they have to come when I was off hunting?” Fara growled.

  “The smaller one limps, but he rides like a centaur . . .” Phoebe’s voice trailed off dreamily.

  Myrina listened to it all uneasily. “They killed our Leti,” she reminded them sharply. Something about the girls’ chatter made her hurt deep inside.

  “But you stopped me riding after them and punishing them.” Fara was resentful.

  “It would have done no good,” Myrina told her.

  Kora grinned. “Don’t worry”—she nudged Myrina—“they are just young girls, released from the shame and fear of slavery, so they do what healthy, happy young girls always do—they admire the muscles in a young man’s thigh.”

  Myrina nodded, remembering that just this kind of talk went on around the Mazagardi campfires when she was young; but sadness came with the memory.

  She sighed. “You are right.”

  “I thought you Moon Riders released a girl after seven years of riding and let her choose a husband,” Kora said.

  “The ancient ways of the Moon Riders are lost to us,” Myrina answered quickly.

  Kora cackled. “When ancient ways are lost, then new ways must be tried.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Kora shrugged and laughed again. “Look at them,” she said. “Many of them are old enough to be wed.”

  The faces and eyes of the young girls were bright and happy, reflecting the flames. Myrina understood very well what Kora meant, but she did not want to hear this earthy talk. They still had to face a bitter winter in this alien land. Survival was what mattered. Had they struggled across that terrible sea and lost her dear Iphigenia just to send these girls off as hearth wives to the first boys who sent them a gift? For her no man could ever be considered after her brave Tomi.

  “Mazagardi men were the fiercest warriors,” she told them. “But still they would gently nurse a sick child all night and never move for fear of disturbing the little one.”

  Kora smiled sadly, nodding her head. “Mazagardi men were famous all through Anatolia, and any girl would consider herself honored to get herself a husband from your tribe, but . . . we have no Mazagardi here. You cannot deny they are fine, strong young men who camp by Eagle Rocks, and their riding skills are second to none.”

  Myrina caught her breath and shook her head, but she couldn’t in fairness disagree. The young men rode like the wind. “When I thought of turning the prows of our ships to the north,” she said, “I feared many hazards, but I never thought that we were going in search of husbands for this lot! I do not like the thought of it at all.”

  Coronilla had been listening to it all quietly. “Huh! You can keep your spindly horse boys—they would not do for me—but I do remember t
hat Hati and Atisha used to say, ‘The old ways have to change if we are to survive.’”

  The gifts kept coming and soon became the highlight of the day, so that the women looked out for the young men and waited in anticipation, guessing excitedly what might next appear. The weather had grown bitterly cold, but at the same time enough felt and skins had arrived to make tents and dress all the women in soft warm tunics, trousers, and boots.

  “Where are they getting it all from?”

  “They cannot have these goods stacked up behind the rocks!”

  Curiosity grew on both sides. The young men had long dark hair that they wore loose to their shoulders, and the older ones sported thick neat beards. They wore tunics and trousers of horsehide and deerhide, their arms and necks ornamented with fine gold bands. As the days passed, they did not rush away as they had at their first encounter but stayed to smile and wave from a distance, watching with pleasure as the women admired the gifts they’d brought. Sometimes they called out words that the women couldn’t understand, but once or twice Myrina thought she’d heard that tongue somewhere before. Sometimes the young men would race around them on horseback, so that the Moon Riders stared and cheered at the speed they achieved.

  “What riders!” they murmured.

  Myrina had seen such riding before and watched it all with growing unease, but how could she make the Moon Riders refuse these precious gifts? There was now a corral full of sheep and winter shelters built for them. She was honest enough to acknowledge that she couldn’t see how they’d all have survived so far without this unlikely help.

  Tamsin and Phoebe looked forward to the gifts, just like the other girls. If the brave young rider who limped a little did not appear on his fast horse, Phoebe would mope all day.

  Late one evening, when they were dozing around the fire, Coronilla and Akasya came to sit by Myrina and Kora. “I don’t know if you have noticed it,” Coronilla said quietly, “but one of our girls is missing.”