Myth of the Moon Goddess - The Aradia Chronicles, Books One, Two and Three

by Rane, April

  “Mother has taught us well,” interrupted Aradia. “You carry the royal blood and as such, never act subservient to anyone! So he is a councilman with haughty airs. I do not care.”

  Then, realizing she was sitting in a tree speaking to her sister about etiquette, she fixed an errant curl and brushed her dirty robe. Searching to regain some dignity, Aradia looked adoringly at her younger sister.

  Deep rich mahogany hair and dark twinkling eyes framed her lovely expressive face that exploded into dimples when she smiled. Yes, she thought. Sardiana will make a good wife for a rich and loving landowner who wants many children.

  “I am going to the river to study my letters. Tis up to me to carry forth such matters, as you have no interest in them,” she teased her sister, as she climbed down close enough to pull on her sister’s long, shiny braid.

  “You hide my lack of studies because I am the only one that knows of your comings and goings,” Sardiana replied quietly. “If Mother knew you secretly went to the river, she would be frantic! It is a long way and very dangerous. Whenever you decide to go traipsing around the countryside on a whim, I pray to Vulcan to protect you and to Minerva to give you the sense not to do it.”

  Now it was Sardiana’s turn to place her hands on her slender hips.

  They glared at each other for a moment, and then together burst into uproarious laughter. Aradia reached in through the open window to hug her sister, both of them laughing so hard that tears came to their eyes, tears that brimmed with memories and the great love they shared for one another.

  “I do not use the river road,” Aradia said briskly. To hide her emotions she paused to tuck her flute and the scroll she had been reading more securely in her tunic’s belt. “I have a special way. It is much shorter.”

  “What other way could there be?” questioned her sister suspiciously.

  “Come. Must I teach you everything?” Aradia teased.

  Together the two girls went out through the sitting room where they encountered one of their three brothers.

  “Kouros, mea bambino, what are you doing here? The others have left to view the metal works,” said Aradia chidingly to her youngest brother as they sauntered gaily through the room.

  “Do not speak to me like that or I shall call Mother and she will set you right,” Kouros said bravely, sticking his tongue out and squeezing his eyes so tight that his outrageously long lashes feathered his cheek.

  “Mea bambino,” Aradia taunted, as she and Sardiana headed for the front door in gales of laughter. “When father sees that you are given a long robe like the rest of us, to cover those ugly chicken legs, then I will stop calling you my baby boy.”

  “It is good that he knows that you tease the older boys as well, or he would take it to heart and cry his eyes out. He loves you so much,” she said with an unusual show of boldness. “We all do, but you test our reserved nature. We often wonder if you were dropped on our doorstep when you were a child.”

  As Sardiana walked beside her sister, she thought once more of the heavenly scent of colorful wildflowers she would gather from the garden to decorate the table for the evening. They always sat for their heavy meal at the end of the day. Flowers and a brightly colored cloth, made the evening a memorable occasion. Dinner conversation was truly engaging, touching, as it did on many subjects. Mother did not care for debating issues nor did Sardinia, but Aradia loved to air what were sometimes outrageous views that enlivened the meal, baiting her brothers and inevitably besting them at their own game, something Sardinia always enjoyed watching. She also enjoyed watching her father nod in approval as Aradia spoke, and smile with support when she was done. Aradia would be stoned to death in some cultures for her ideas, thought Sardiana. It’s good that our people have such a high regard for our women.

  Sardiana shuddered at the thought of Aradia getting married and having to live in another land. She had heard of other cultures in which it was commonplace for women to be beaten, and goddesses to be berated, something she found difficult to understand, for her people worshipped both gods and goddesses alike. They were always equal one to the other.

  Aradia slowed her natural step and cocked her head to one side. Seeing her sister’s grave concern she asked, “What are you thinking about, bella sorella?”

  “I am thinking lobatz, it’s crazy to go with you!” said Sardiana, tapping her head as she spoke. Yet hesitantly she followed Aradia and they meandered unhurriedly out of the main gate of the city and began making their way down the sloped road that led to the river.

  Looking back over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching them, Sardiana was awed, as always, by the sight. Volsinii, the small village in which they lived, was built on a citadel of rock that reached high into the clouds. Flowers gently swaying in the breeze and brightly colored flowers sprouted from the pots that decorated every balcony. Sardiana realized she was holding her breath at the ennobled sight.

  The beloved faces of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva were sculpted upon the gate with terra cotta, and they were awash with lively colors that pleased the eye, each color depicted the dynamic energy of the god or goddess it represented. The sculptures told the tales of their wonderful, but sometimes errant, gods and goddesses. These deities had taken the place of the olden gods of Etruria when Rome had begun encroaching upon their territories. To keep peace Volsinii had succumbed to the changes. After all, the gods and goddesses hadn’t changed, just the names they were openly called.

  Bright red was for the power and passion of Jupiter; guardian of the law and protector of justice who dealt out harsh punishment in order to serve truth though it was rumored that he tended to stretch the truth in matters of philandering against his wife Juno, who presided over marriage and childbearing. Tinted the same lush green of the trees and grass was Juno, the earth mother whose expressive face bejeweled the wall. Seldom was it mentioned that she had a jealous nature, only that she railed at her husband on occasion for his indiscretions. The Daughter of Jupiter, Minerva, emblazoned the triad with radiant gold, reminiscent of the early morning sun. Minerva’s strength, evident in the chiseled contours of her face made it easy to believe the rumors that she sprang from the head of Jupiter, fully armored and ready for battle.

  When they came upon a tall, thin fieldstone wall, Aradia moved behind it quickly, not wanting others to see the trail she had found.

  “Here it is,” she whispered, pulling her sister after her.

  “Oh, no, on the head of Juno I shall disown you!” Sardiana cried. “Are you mad? I will never go down that path!”

  So seldom did her sister raise her voice, that it gave Aradia pause to look down the narrow path that seemed to plunge straight down to the winding river. For a moment, she doubted her own sanity, but then she yielded to her spontaneous nature, and laughing, she turned toward the path.

  “Life is a journey,” she said.” If you are not willing to take the first step, then the journey ends before it begins.”

  “I intend to live my life, not end it foolishly!” Sardiana exclaimed nervously, looking at Aradia in dismay, only to see her sister suddenly clasp her head in both hands.

  “What is wrong?” she demanded. “Was it a vision? What did you see?”

  Aradia had many visions but they usually did not cause pain. As the vision intensified she steadied herself and sat down on the ground.

  “Are you all right?” asked Sardiana as she bent over her sister.

  “Yes, you are right,” her sister told her, removing her sandals. “Never follow me on this path. It is very dangerous!”

  “Then why do you go?” pleaded Sardiana, sitting down beside her.

  “Sar, I want to tell you how much I love you,” Aradia said earnestly. “The gods blessed me when you were born. You are all that is good. You put me to shame at times with the things I do, but I have this lust for life. It goes so deep, that I cannot believe it began in this body. I know that you do not believe we live many lives. Father is patient, not pushing his ideas o
n all of you. He allows you to search your hearts for what feels right. But I have seen the sacred writings of the priests and I know in my heart that life is eternal. Our bodies are just specks of dust in the wind. Some lives we gather much to us, and other lives we blow hither and to, with nothing to anchor us. I want you to know, Sardiana, that you have been my anchor.”

  “This sounds so final!” her sister said, cautiously looking over the steep incline. “You are not running off, are you? Perhaps I should go with you.”

  “I am not running off!” Aradia said, rising. “But I do not want you to come with me.”

  “Then you must promise not to put any spells on anyone when you are gone. I heard about the mysterious curse you put upon Sobona. Her ox keeled over and died. According to Mother, it was because her ox knocked over our gate, trampled our flowers, and scared our donkey.”

  “There was much more to it, dolce sorella,” Aradia assured her. “Latna Sobona is a vicious woman who hurts young children. She put a curse on…well, it does not matter. Rest your mind, for I only repay what has been given out. If I use magic for my own revenge, it will come back to me threefold.”

  “Yes, I know you are not evil,” Sardiana said. “It’s only that I worry about your powers, about the things you…well, all of it.”

  “I will walk you back to the main gate.” Aradia hesitated, thinking about the vision.

  “No, I will be fine,” Sardiana said, smiling radiantly as she embraced Aradia. “You teach bravery in your wake, do you know that? Yet, I’m not brave enough to traverse that incline with you. Although, I will certainly look our councilman in the eye upon his next visit. You know, I love you too! I know not why you spoke so just now, but I always have known how much you love me.”

  As soon as she was gone, Aradia moved deftly and steadily down the dangerous path. It was mostly rock, though there were places that were sandy and slippery where she had to travel slowly with the surefootedness of a mountain goat, carefully wedging each foot in crevices found only by memory. Taking care that her flute did not slip into the darkness of the cavern below, she remembered the time when her father had presented it to her and the sweet surprise in his eyes as she played him a mysterious and soothing melody. It had helped, he told her later, with the unease he was feeling about allowing Vetus, the Greek statesman, to visit their home in hopes of setting a marriage between him and Aradia. When the song came to an end, she remembered, Vetus had entered the room in search of her father to firm up the arrangements. When he was told that it was not up to Aradia’s father alone, that she needed to agree, the statesman was shocked and could not believe she had any influence in the choice her parents would make for her future.

  As she continued to clamber down the rock face, Aradia remembered how her father had told Vetus bluntly that many women of Etruria were not only educated, but were allowed to take part in choosing a husband. Outraged, Vetus had strutted around the room like a rooster, puffed up with his own pride and his belief in his own importance. His stately face turned an angry bright red and his dark brown eyes narrowed as he made his pronouncement.

  “It goes beyond being outside convention,” he declared. “It’s shocking, and will cause moral decay for the Etruians.”

  Vetus may have been a handsome man, with his muscular frame, arresting, deep set eyes and thick wavy brown hair, and he may have been a well versed scholar, but Aradia would have nothing to do with a man who did not treat his woman as an equal…or revere her!

  Well no, she mused. If a man puts you upon a pedestal, eventually he will become disillusioned, as pedestals are precarious places. How my mind is wandering today.

  Peering down the steep incline, she was so glad she had not let Sardiana come. The vision she had had of her sister sprawled on the ground must have been a warning.

  Thinking of the vision as she continued down, she tried to remember visions she’d had that had not come true. But only those in which she saw herself as a bit older and in a different land had not yet come to pass. I must stop these maudlin thoughts!

  Instead she began looking forward to the quiet time she would spend at the river. She called it the Tiger River, although she knew its real name was the Tiber. She wished someday to see a tiger. No, she thought, I wish to see it all!

  When she emerged from the path at the bottom of the incline, she looked furtively to see that she was alone. Yes, today there was only welcoming silence and the sparkling, meandering river.

  Smiling, she walked to her special spot, hidden from view by trees and tall reeds. Here, she could watch the sunset at day’s end; then as usual, she would have to climb hurriedly up the incline before dark. She knew she took chances, and many times she ripped her clothing as she bound up the path, trying to make it to the city gate before it closed for the night. More than once the gate was closed and she had to climb over the large sculpted stones on either side of the gate.

  Settling comfortably into the nook of her favorite tree, whose branches hung low out over the water in the bend of the river, she reached up and undid her braids which were wrapped around her head like a crown. Removing the pins that held her rich, titian hair and pulling her hands through its softness, she stared at her reflection in the river. She enjoyed gazing at herself here. Her remarkable blue-green eyes flashed back at her with vitality and animation. Vetus had told her they were the color of the Mediterranean. Sea green, he had called them. He said they were the same color as the eyes of the sirens, mermaids that lured sailors to their death with their sensual song.

  He had asked her if she could sing and she said she could, and then in order to amuse herself and perhaps to frighten him, she droned a lullaby loudly and quite off key for although she could not sing a single true note, she loved to play her flute, not in a conventional manner, but making sounds that took her dreamily to faraway places.

  Aradia always felt refreshed when she came away from the river. It restored her. Its mystery filled her. The calm of the river, the sounds of her flute, and the little ones, the elementals that came to dance for her, were all balm for her soul.

  Sardiana had recently asked how she could put spells on people, but the elementals were Aradia’s secret, eager to do her bidding. Aradia was glad that no one was here today. Many times her afternoons were gobbled up by women willing to walk down the long dusty road, to beg for her attention. They came to her with small matters to be taken care of: a husband that was not paying them attention of late; a child whose bed was wet; a maid who had stolen something. Only when she had performed her spells would they leave her in peace to hide the coins they gave her in her special place under the snarled and half buried tree roots, where she kept a bronze box. Her mother would be angry if she knew of her small business. But stop Aradia could not as she knew somehow it was her mission to help women with such matters.

  Undressing and slipping silently into the cool refreshing water, Aradia allowed the river’s crystal clear silkiness to enshroud her in a vestment made of undines, the elementals of water. She called them water fairies, and they delighted in the fact that she could see them. Joyfully adorning her body in a blush of azulene blue and sheathing her in safety, they carried her effortlessly along the serene, tranquil current of the river.

  After her swim, lying hidden from view, she dried her lithe and agile body in the sun. Looking up, she noticed the slant of the golden orb in the cloudless sky, and knew that sunset was not far behind. Realizing with reluctance that her day at the river would soon be over, she decided to get dressed and meditate a bit before leaving.

  Aradia slipped back into her slightly smudged but comfortable robe and settled back in, snuggling against her special tree as her eyes followed a large crow circling in the distance. Somehow, it brought back a memory from last year, when the priest had come to do the haruspices, a clairvoyant reading on the liver of a bull sacrificed each year before harvest. Since she was now of an age to take her grandmother’s place in the pre-harvest festivities the priest had asked h
er to do a special reading.

  Shivering, she remembered the deep trance she had gone into and how strange it felt. She had been shocked by what the priest had recounted, that perhaps she had prophesized some kind of invasion, but he was not quite sure. After all, since this was her first time, the priest had assured her that she could be mistaken. Shrugging his shoulders, he had told her not to worry, although he had made sure every word of her prophesy was written down on the scrolls of sacred parchment he carried for just such a purpose. The words of the prophecy came back with a jolt!

  “Down from the north in the month of the bull,

  Men with false faces will come through the gates.

  Just before sunset on a fair and fine day.

  False faces on the inside; true faces on the outside; no faces on the gate.”

  Had that portent of disaster been tied to the vision of her sister sprawled on the ground of the city that she’d had earlier. Chills racked her body and pure terror permeated her being, as once again she saw in her mind’s eye that same vision of her sister. This time, she knew…her vision of today was tied to the clairvoyant reading the priest had written down on the day of her prophecy.

  Suddenly remembering that the men had taken the sons of the city to the metal works and that they would return before sunset, she was overwhelmed by the certainty that she must warn her father. Struggling to her feet, she cried, “Oh, Goddess! Not Sardiana!”

  No longer capable of thinking clearly, she ran blindly toward the incline and started to climb quickly up the path and found relief when, reaching the top and looking to the city gate, all seemed to be quiet. Perhaps she was just being foolish, but she ran anyway, forgetting her sandals. Her breath was labored as she reached the gate, and at first she saw no one.

  And then she saw a man looking down at her from the top of the wall. It was not a familiar face. She let out a terrified scream as a dark, grisly warrior jumped down, landing heavily beside her. She felt a sharp blow on the top of her head. Inky blackness followed, deep as a cave and dreamless.