Kore's Field

by N. C. Sellars

  “Yes, though the precise timing depends on the temple.” I gestured to the books piled on the table. “That’s what I’ve read, anyway. I’ve spoken to Lilianne about it; she’ll act as priestess during the ceremony. As a Servant of Kore she’s qualified to lead the rites. When the gods call for the Blooding we’ll have a full day’s notice, but everything will have to be ready before then. There’s time yet, it won’t take place before the ground starts to thaw. I’ll talk with Lilianne to prepare my part. You don’t have to worry about anything except the slaughter.”

  He grimaced. “That’s right. The slaughter. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, quite the opposite,” he said uneasily, “but shouldn’t that be one of your responsibilities as queen, too? You know so much more about it than I.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I’m afraid it’s the king’s duty. You’re representing the God of Souls, presenting his gift to Kore.”

  “What poor beast will have to give its life?”

  “It depends on what the gods ordain,” I explained. “When Lilianne gives us the date, she will name the offering, too. In the past the priest has sacrificed deer or rabbits, depending on how much is needed. There are stories where the gods call for human blood”—I held up my hand when he looked at me, alarmed—“but everyone says that’s just legend.”

  Shuddering, he swallowed the last of his stew. “I should certainly hope so.”

  “It has to be.” I frowned and lifted my bowl to drink the broth. “I can’t imagine the gods asking for such a barbaric sacrifice.”

  • • •

  The weeks leading up to the Blooding balanced on a blade’s edge. While Myrilla was in no danger of overabundance, the winter greens did ripen and the weather gradually relented. It was still cold, make no mistake, but the frigid, biting wind from the north had weakened and the air grew soft with moisture once more.

  I met with Lilianne in the temple each day to practice my role for the Blooding. Acting as Kore, I would take a cask filled with blood meal and ground bones from the slaughter and walk the length of a wheat field, sprinkling the mixture over the ground. It sounds very simple, but I assure you it was not. It was more of a dance than a stroll, with specific footfalls to mimic the way Kore had run and danced to the God of Souls when he called her. I had to convey joy and strength and the gravity of Kore’s fate all at the same time. I suppose there are some people who might enjoy the challenges of such an activity; I found it profoundly frustrating. It seemed grossly unfair that the harvest’s outcome should fall to me. If the wheat didn’t produce, I’d have no one else to blame.

  Looking back on that first Blooding, I believe I could have handled the stress and uncertainty much better had I been permitted to discuss it with Adam. But we were forbidden to divulge any detail of our roles. I’d return from the temple, exhausted from dancing the length of the narrow chamber behind the altar over and over again, unable to mention a word of it to Adam. It was the same story when he’d come back from a rendezvous with Lilianne. What should have been an exciting mystery with anticipation heightening every day only deepened the gulf between us. All the secrecy was a shadowy reminder of our early weeks together, when wariness and suspicion had reigned. Even casual conversations stalled into quiet gaps, a glaring reminder that while Adam and I were firm friends, this man was only my husband in name. We had not yet learned trust in the midst of silence.

  Even with all my practice, I felt overwhelmed with fear when the morning before the Blooding finally arrived. I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that something was different. The air in the chamber felt icy and clear, charged with life. I pulled on my dressing gown and drew back the curtain to be greeted by the sun for the first time in days. A strange sensation settled in my stomach as I dressed, and I wasn’t surprised when a servant shortly announced the arrival of Lilianne. She appeared at the door carrying a skein of water and a bundle of white silk under her arm. I’d never seen her look so grave and stern.

  “It’s the eve of the Blooding,” she said, stepping into the chamber. “Are you ready, Lady Queen?”

  I swallowed. “I-I suppose.”

  “Is the king here?”

  “No, he’s not returned from the mountain—”

  At that moment Adam slipped into the chamber, rubbing his hands and stamping his feet for warmth. “Breakfast smells wonderful; I’m famished, Alyce—” He stopped when he saw Lilianne and some of the color drained from his face. “Is it time?”

  “The queen must go to her place first,” said Lilianne. “You’ll join me at the temple later for the slaughter.” She looked at me. “Everything is ready, we must depart immediately.”

  “I understand.” I looked longingly at the tray of steaming eggs. “Do I have time to eat first? I’ll be quick.”

  She shook her head, as I’d known she would. “You’ll dine again when the land is fed. Bid the king farewell. You may join him after the ceremony.”

  “Wait, Lilianne.” Adam held up his hand. “Even if the slaughter happens tonight, the ceremony still won’t take place until tomorrow. Where are you taking her?”

  “The queen must prepare, just as Kore did before she joined the gods. No other place is more appropriate than the gardens. They are the most sacred place on Myrilla’s royal grounds, second only to Kore’s field.”

  She gestured for me to follow her, but I had trouble moving my feet. She’d never mentioned any of this to me. Adam must have shared my thoughts, because he blocked Lilianne’s progress toward the door. “Now wait just a moment,” he said, trying very hard to stay calm. The suffering of the kingdom during those cold months had worn hard on him, and frustration seeped through the cracks of his usually regal façade. “It’s still the dead of the winter. You cannot expect me to allow you to take the queen and make her stay in some garden all day and all night, without so much as a scrap of food.”

  For all of Adam’s stifled anger, Lilianne’s cool voice never changed. “It’s the way of the gods, Lord King, to ask us to give them everything. Kore understood that, and the queen is learning as well. She will know it even better by morning.”

  “She’s already been ill once,” insisted Adam, as though he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t see why it’s necessary for her to stay out in the cold for that long.”

  “It is the way the gods intended it.”

  The simplicity of her answer only enraged Adam. The veins in his temple stood out as he nearly shouted, “I will not let you risk my wife’s health. I don’t care what the rituals call for. I’ve had enough secrets and hiding, it’s bordering on foolishness now. I respect your traditions, Lilianne, but not far enough to jeopardize the queen’s wellbeing. I do not see why it must be done this way, just to appease your country’s cruel gods—”

  “You are knocking on a dangerous door,” cut in Lilianne, her face bruised with anger. “Perhaps Kore will forgive you yet for such ignorance. The Blooding is the only way to seek the gods’ favor for a blessed harvest. No blustering or argument can change that. When you took the crown of Myrilla as your own, you swore to uphold the laws of our gods, did you not?”

  Adam said nothing, he only glared at Lilianne with the same contempt he’d reserved for my aunt and uncle. His nostrils flared and he clenched his fists at his sides. Outside the window I could hear farmers calling greetings to each other from across the fields and orchards.

  “Since you have made your scorn quite clear,” said Lilianne, “let us look to the queen to decide.”

  They both turned to me. Lilianne calm and still once more, Adam nearly purple with rage. I didn’t relish the thought of upsetting either one of them, but I licked my lips and said to Adam, as steadily as I could, “I understand your concern, truly, but the gods know my purpose for being in the garden, and they will keep me safe. I don’t believe they would ask such a thing otherwise. It’s the way Kore came to them, remember? The better I emulate her, the better our chances for the harvest.” I reached out and touched his hand, just barely brushing
his fingers with mine. “Think of the wheat,” I whispered. “We have no other choice.”

  He said nothing else, just stood silently as I followed Lilianne from the chamber. Every servant we passed scuttled out of our path. The Blooding was no secret; the few remaining Myrillans who were old enough to remember the event had probably caught on during the past few weeks as the air changed. No doubt they had spread the word. What remained of our small court lined the entrance hall, bidding me a wordless farewell with solemn faces.

  The guards opened the heavy doors before us and Lilianne led me into the brilliant winter sunshine. The twisting garden paths were deserted; I assumed she was taking me to some sacred, hidden grove separate from all the rest that was specifically used in preparation for the Blooding. So you can imagine my surprise when she stopped before the worn wooden door to my own garden.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, breaking the silent spell.

  Lilianne produced her own key and turned it in the lock. Without a word she stepped into the garden and walked the path as though she knew it as well as I did. I was too shocked to even look around for new growth or admire the ripe winter cherries. I simply followed her down the path to the far wall, where she stopped before the iron gate. She rested her hand on it and gave me a knowing smile.

  “The garden you chose to work, Lady Queen, is the garden of all true Myrillan queens,” she said. “It’s handed down from generation to generation. Your mother worked it the same way you have, before her death.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes and a lump rose in my throat. I never knew during all this time, from my pitiful escape attempt to the day I had collected the winter flowers for the solstice, that I had been working in the same place of my mother and grandmothers. That all the queens before me had stood in that very spot, just as I had, fearful of Kore and desperate to lead wisely. “I knew this place was special,” I said, my voice shaking. “But I had no idea it was sacred to the gods.”

  “It’s more sacred than you realize.” Lilianne’s gnarled fingers lifted the latch on the gate and opened it to reveal the black field, framed by trees. “After all, it contains the only gate to this wheat field. The very place where the God of Souls found Kore and claimed her for his own.” She looked over her shoulder at me, her face a picture of triumph. “Give thanks and be joyful, Lady Queen. You’re standing on the threshold of Kore’s field.”

  Chapter 13

  I wish I could describe the spectrum of emotions that washed over me upon Lilianne’s revelation. First, I felt foolish, wondering like a petulant child why no one had told me I was working in the garden of the queens before me; it would have provided endless comfort in my early days of marriage if I had known I was sharing in such a legacy. Shame and ignorance followed, though by the time Lillianne left me in the garden with nothing but a flask of water and an entire day of solitude laid out before me, my nerves stretched to a new limit. I felt as though I’d already failed a test I had yet to begin. The whole thing seemed a cruel joke, orchestrated for the purpose of raising my hopes and then dashing them to pieces.

  It may surprise you to learn that I didn’t work a bit in the garden that afternoon. I walked the paths many times, picturing how it would look in the upcoming spring when everything was new and green and bursting into bloom. The slender, dark blades of crocus leaves had already begun poking out of the cold earth, along with the snowdrop buds and hare’s ears. I studied the cherry and plum trees, looking for branches that had turned a flat, ashy grey and needed pruning. The roses looked well, and as I sat on the bench beneath the arbor I tilted my chin up and looked at the tangled brown vines over my head, covered in thorns.

  Curiously, I found myself pondering things I’d never before considered. About Adam, in particular. I knew little of other countries’ religions at the time; it was common for a queen to learn the names of the gods and goddesses of her neighboring nations, mostly out of politeness, but their rituals and traditions were unfamiliar to me. I found it both appalling and fascinating that the man I shared a bed with at night came from a country with no temple. That he could honor his gods without offering burnt sacrifices of grain or blood or whatever else they might require. I could not imagine a world without a temple dedicated to Kore.

  His herdsman intrigued me more than anything. Who was this man who tended sheep and goats and dispensed advice to kings? Adam didn’t speak of him often, but when he did, it unsettled me greatly. He talked like this herdsman was much more than just a simple shepherd. He made it sound like this common man was a god who had walked alongside the God of Souls himself and then stepped down from the heavens. I had always thought that a god cast out of his home would be a shameful creature, but Adam spoke of him with nothing but pride.

  I turned these thoughts over and over in my mind, reaching no conclusion, until the sun had long sunk in the sky and given its place to the moon. I drew my cloak tight around me and curled up on the bench, and before long I was asleep.

  • • •

  The sky was still black when I felt Lilianne’s hand on my shoulder, shaking it gently. She put her face close to mine and whispered, “It’s time, Lady Queen.”

  I nodded and sat up, my joints stiffer than iron. Cold, wet fog surrounded me and frost glittered on the plants. The garden had never felt so quiet before. I could hear only the sound of my breath as I removed my cloak and bedclothes. I stood, naked and shivering, as Lilianne took a bundle of green silk from her bag and opened it carefully. Nestled within the folds was a summer gown unlike any I’d ever seen. It was pale and dirty and appeared to be little more than rags sewn together. Obediently, I held my arms out and stepped into it, though I couldn’t help shuddering at the rough fabric’s touch. The gown—if one could call it that—was ill-fitting, to say the least. Its ragged hem didn’t even reach my knees and one of the narrow sleeves kept slipping off my shoulder.

  “This gown is crafted from the very grain sacks used in the first harvest of Kore,” said Lilianne. “When she was taken by the God of Souls, he blessed the land so it would always be abundant. Through you, Lady Queen, we honor her sacrifice today.”

  Dressed in the flimsy gown, I didn’t feel much warmer than I had before Lilianne put it on me. I hugged my bare arms to my chest and watched her unfold another cloth bundle, this time revealing a wooden cask. It was small enough for me to hold in one hand, and intricately carved. I leaned forward to look inside when Lilianne opened it, but I quickly withdrew. The odor emitting from the cask was revolting. I had known blood meal—dried blood and bones ground together into a powder—would not smell sweet, but I hadn’t expected it to turn my stomach.

  Lilianne seemed unbothered. She gripped the cask with both hands and looked solemnly at the dark brown powder inside. “To show Myrilla’s gratitude, you must thank the God of Souls for his generosity in watching over your kingdom. I pray that Kore will be in your hands and feet and heart as you return thanks for the God of Souls’ gift, and that he will see his beloved’s likeness in you.”

  She held out the cask and I accepted it silently. Without another word of instruction, Lilianne crossed to the back garden gate and pushed it open. I swallowed at the sight of Kore’s field, stretched out endlessly before me. Lilianne stepped aside and I walked carefully along the cold stone path and through the gate. It swung shut behind me, and suddenly I was alone.

  I stood at the edge of the field, gripping the cask with stiff fingers. I couldn’t even see Adam waiting at the opposite side. The air was wet and heavy; fog clung to the seeded dirt, pearly grey in the predawn light.

  No one could tell me when to start, I had to decide on my own. I shivered and put out one cautious, bare foot. The dirt was frozen into hard clumps that felt like rocks beneath my tender skin. I let out a surprised cry and leapt back, suddenly furious. It’s only a ceremony, I told myself. It wasn’t real, it was a reenactment. The gods weren’t going to take me away; in fact, they probably weren’t the slightest bit interested in my pathetic attempts
at the rites. Compared to them I was less than an insect, less than the dirt beneath my feet.

  I drew a deep breath and tried again, but after three steps I simply could not take the cold and retreated once more. Frustrated tears sprang to my eyes. Why did I think I could do this? Why did I let Lilianne talk me into this madness? I glared down at the cask, tempted to hurl it away and forget it existed. If the gods wanted blood they could take it on their own time; I wouldn’t be made a fool for their pleasure. My breath rose in white wreaths over my head and I half-turned, ready to abandon the ritual when the sky suddenly brightened. I looked over my shoulder and saw a burst of light, pink and gold, appear along the edge of the mountains. It did nothing to warm me—in fact, the breeze grew stronger—but now I could see Adam waiting, joined by Lilianne, little more than pinpricks in the distance.

  I shifted the cask in my hand and set myself square to the field once more. My foot automatically rose in the step Lilianne had taught me, ready to begin the walk. When I stepped forward this time the shock was still there, but I didn’t jump back. Instead I took the next step, slightly unbalanced as my feet hardened against the rough ground. Only then did I remember the blood meal. I dipped my shaking fingers into the cask and drew out a small handful, sprinkling it in one fluid movement just as I’d practiced so many times in the temple with Lilianne. The meal still smelled wretched, no brightening sky could change that, but I held it as carefully as if it were gold dust.

  With each step I took, I noticed the hard earth less and less. My numb feet performed the dance with care and intention, and I scattered the blood meal as gracefully as I could. All my earlier reticence was gone. This may sound very strange to you, Reader, but for the briefest moment in that field, something deep inside me changed. Or perhaps ‘changed’ isn’t the right word. I felt detached from myself, as though the feet that danced and the hands that spread the meal were no longer mine. It was the oddest thing. I imagine it’s the same sensation that talented musicians and dancers feel when they perform in honor of the gods. My heart pounded and a sort of wildness rushed through me. For one glimmering instant I forgot about the rags and the harvest and the thousands of people depending on me. I even forgot about Adam, and I began to feel that I was Kore. I understood her; I knew the fear and excitement and curiosity that must have filled her heart that morning, ages ago, when she stood alone with the God of Souls.