by Rane, April
With her heart in her eyes, trusting that Jutia would do the right thing, Eurynome turned and hugged her. The women held their breath, and watched.
Stunned for a brief moment, Jutia did not know what to do. Eurynome had caught her off guard by not attacking, and now this…the praise… saying she was a natural leader. It gave her pause, her face becoming a theatrical mask of confusion, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
And then, suddenly, Jutia, smiling, was lifting Eurynome off the ground in a bear hug. The group quietly raised their arms in praise of the Goddess Cybele.
As Theba sat watching the scene, she wondered how this child had come to learn the talents she so easily displayed on this journey. Yes, it was true, she thought, it was all because of Jontue. Jontue who was loyal to the goddess, and taught about the womb and the mysteries of life and of the black goddess who brings the mysteries of death, it was she who destroys so that new and stronger growth can take place. Her thoughts, she knew, were rambling, but it was indeed a good day to reach into the past so that she could understand the future.
Grandmother moved her stiff back against the ancient oak she had found until she was more comfortable. Glad of the relief, she continued to ruminate.
How was it, she wondered, that we had become fearful of speaking of our greatness? Surely no man could be accused of being so timid. Shaking her head, she recalled how some men taught their sons how to fight and hunt and boast of strength, sometimes hurting each other to show off. But they belittled their daughters, if they allowed them to live at all. She could remember how, during many cold winters, the women gave no challenge to the men who, little by little, found excuses to keep the women home and away from the special days that honored the goddess. Yes, she could now see the insidious ways men had found to denigrate all that was female. All but Jontue, for he was loyal to the goddess, and to the olden ways. He had taught Eurynome, and passed on to her all that he knew, for she was the only one willing to listen to ‘the ravings of a sick and unusual man.’ Grandmother began drifting off to sleep as these thoughts, like ribbons, tied the past and the future together.
“Mamma, come… lie back and let me cover you against the night,” Eurynome said, bending over her and stroking her hair. “There is a slight chill, and it is to be a mead moon on the morrow. I have saved the fermented honey and we’ll add berries to the brew and we will celebrate with the goddess on her night.”
Murmuring endearments, she began to settle the old woman for the night.
“I will tell you the story of Selene and Endymion.” Eurynome said as she snuggled next to her grandmother. “Selene was a beautiful and seductive goddess of the full moon who always rode across the lunar heavens in a silver chariot drawn by two white horses. One night she saw Endymion sleeping amongst his sheep in the mountain forest. Ravished by his beauty, the heart of the goddess burning within her, she seduced him by putting a spell on him so that he would sleep in a deep cavern, except on the full of the moon when he would come to her and they would join their bodies together in love. And it is said that together they produced fifty daughters, all of whom are moon-maidens who light the way for young lovers.”
As her grandmother fell asleep, Eurynome rose from her side and went to wrap herself in her own blanket. How would she keep her here tomorrow out of harm’s way? She realized she yet had so much to learn from the generous spirit of her grandmother, which had always lit her path, gently leading her to see others from the heart. As Eurynome fell asleep, her spirit guide whispered to her,
“Yes… you have often veered away from her guidance, in search of strength. Strength serves to protect the heart, yet does not necessarily open it. True courage comes from an open heart.”
The sun hung suspended on the horizon as the group shared dry tasteless pork that had been cooked two days earlier. Quietly regaling them with stories to keep their minds off the meager fare, Eurynome spoke eagerly about the fortress of Hattusus, sharing all that Jontue had taught her, painting word pictures for them just as he had done for her with the result that the women, mesmerized, sat taller focusing on the inner strength that they were recapturing.
Getting up to leave camp, Eurynome reminded them to eat lightly in order to prepare them for their evening’s raid. Their mood, as they sat around their fireless camp, was as varied as a rushing brook finding its way into a still pond. Before she left camp, Eurynome decided to lead the group in a prayer to all of the warrior priestesses that had fought for the preservation of the goddess. The prayer helped to reminded them of the reason they were on the journey.
Watching the sun’s precarious balance between the backdrop of golden sky and the unknown deep cavernous pit that swallowed it each evening, some wished it would never submerge. The few who were anxious to rescue the young girls or to engage in combat were silently cheering the sun’s quick journey.
On the way back to camp after scouting, Eurynome walked purposefully, knowing it was time to speak of the raid that would take place in just a few hours. As the group gathered, she reviewed what she must tell them, the direction they would attack from, what signals they would use, and which women would move toward the huts to find the girls that had been taken. When they were gathered, she began with no preamble.
“It is significant,” said Eurynome, “that those of you whose kin we plan to rescue are not involved in the raid.”
“But…” interjected one the mothers that had a daughter missing.
“No, there is no room for error, and you both are too emotional and would only get someone killed if you participate!”
The mother that had two daughters stolen sat in stony uncomfortable silence, with a look of near mutiny on her face.
The compassionate, story-telling young woman was gone, and since there was a no-nonsense expression in Eurynome’s eyes, both women acquiesced without further questioning.
“During the raid it will be most import to always go forth in pairs,” she said, looking from one face to another. “If there is a fallen sister, take her to the cave we have agreed upon. The rock cave I have shown you is nearly impossible to find, therefore safe, but you must keep a good ear for the sound of the wolf. I have taught Grandmother to make the sound. If you should lose your way, this will lead you to the cave. But remember that it can attract others of our four footed friends. So have your clubs and the vial of wolverine scent ready to use if it is needed.”
Eurynome could see concern written on the faces of the women. There was so much to learn, and so little time. Inhaling deeply, she felt her profound connection to the forest and wished she could infuse within the women the love and nurturing that she received each time she breathed the scent of pine, heard the cry of a wolf, or watched an osprey dive for its prey. She understood how gifted she was to have Jontue, and realized he lived still in the teachings in this circle.
“Most animals will not attack the wolverine,” she told them. “Even a bear will not challenge it. Be careful with the vial I have given you. Put only a few drops on a strip of cloth and tie it to your belt if you feel an animal might be tracking you. Hopefully we will not have to retreat to the cave. Besides,” she laughed, “you’ll not be welcome there if you by hap’ spill it upon yourselves.”
The mellow tone of Eurynome’s laughter, so seldom heard, did Grandmother’s heart good as she listened in earnest along with the rest of the group.
“It is now time to leave. When I give the signal for the raid to begin, take the balm I have given you, mix it with dirt and cover your face and body. It will darken your skin so that you become nearly invisible.”
Eurynome had spoken to her grandmother earlier, knowing how useless she must feel, telling her that she was counting on her to take the younger girls to the cave. She was pleased to see that Grandmother, wanting to do as much as she could for this courageous group of women, gathered herbs along the way, healing herbs that might be useful after the raid.
The group followed Eurynome silently, walking single file an
d keeping close, hardly breathing. It felt like a long walk to some, but to others, every halt was a delay that made them impatient. Dread, apprehension and trepidation reared their ugly heads now that they had arrived at their destination, and many wondered if in battle, they could accomplish the same things they had in practice. Eurynome came up beside each one and whispered last minute instructions and gave encouragement before moving to the next. The most important advice she gave them was, “It will go well because it is blessed by the goddess.”
Constantly throwing back her head to stare at the Moon, Eurynome went over the plan again and again. Once positioned, there would be three groups; two women from each would crouch at the edge of the small village, listening for the signal, as well as two to the north and two to the west. It was a good plan. Still, a sense of foreboding lingered, undermining the victory she knew was theirs. Had she planned for every possible outcome? Could she have missed something?
Jontue’s story of Aradia and the mistakes that she had made occupied her mind.
“What if I told you, you are Aradia…” he had said. Striving to remember his words, for they seemed to be vastly important to her now, she thought, what if she made a mistake? So many lives would be on her conscience if these women were to die. She reached deeper within to retrieve his words, and felt him, Jontue, so close to her. Then she heard his words clearly.
“Remember that the mission you go on now, what you do, how you handle yourself and the women, will serve to erase some of the choices you made in your last lifetime.”
Then came a moment when she knew. A moment split in time, an insight… clear and deep, ‘I am Aradia!’
Eurynome headed for the east end of the village which was bordered on one side by the river. On the two nights she investigated the village, she noted that usually one of the men guarded the small boats. Tonight, she hoped this one was asleep. It would make her work easier. She speculated again on why they had not taken the boats down river, and froze when suddenly, seeing how protectively the guard hovered over the boat, it all became perfectly clear. These boats belong to visitors! Why hadn’t she realized that before?
Silently cursing her blunder, and with mounting alarm, she understood the peril this posed to her band. There were more men in the village than she had previously thought. At that moment, she heard muffled screams coming from the huts and her first thought was something had gone wrong. Hearing the ‘all is well signal’ from the other two groups, she felt imminent relief, but it did nothing for the fact they were facing something altogether different than planned.
Loud laughter came from one of the huts located in the same direction that the screams had come from. Now it all made sense to Eurynome. They were probably selling the girls to these visitors and they were raping them now. Instantly, she was overcome with rage, even though she knew that she must not let angry thoughts cloud her mind
Now, however, she realized they could not wait until the village was asleep as they had planned. If she was right and these visitors were the men Jontue had once told her about, they would brutalize the girls and then take them when they left. She tried to remember what Jontue had said about the vicious warriors that used the river at night. What few memories there were, made her realize she had rather not encounter these men, although that might not be an option?
She could not see the design on the boat to assure herself that these men were not the night travelers. So, as she was trained to do, she would have to assume they were the evil men who traveled through the night attacking unsuspecting villages and taking young girls to rape, trade and barter. Jontue had told her that if captured by them, it would be easier for a girl to kill herself than to be subjected to their sexual torture. Bile rose to Eurynome’s throat, but she swallowed, willing it away.
Knowing that the men were probably drunk, which would make them easier prey, she waited until one of them stumbled out of one of the huts, shouting something over his shoulder. She saw that he was heading down toward the river. Eurynome knew what she had to do, and motioning to Jutia, whispered into her ear.
“Go like a ghost to the ash tree, and do as I have shown you. Become part of the tree,” she said with quiet determination. “And then, when he walks by, aim sure! Come. We are ready!”
They both moved silently toward the path, and Jutia took up her place next to the tree. The intoxicated man stumbled many times, calling out complaints that he was being sent to relieve a lowly guard.
Jutia held still until he walked right beside her, then with a quick motion, she swung her club, stunning him. Eurynome jumped on his broad back and slit his throat in absolute silence. And although he was a large burly man, both women saw to it that his body did not make a noise as he fell, and they dragged him off the path. Then, they headed for the man guarding the boats.
Having taken the garment off the man they had just killed, Jutia covered herself and with her short hair could easily pass for a man. Beckoning wildly to the guard by the boat, she cried out to him in a deep, heavy voice, slurring the words so that he could not understand. Then, as he came closer, Eurynome jumped on his back and plunged the knife in his neck swiftly and silently, just as Jontue had shown her and he fell easily to the ground.
Eurynome sighed, realizing it was easier to know how to kill than it was to kill. Knowing that there was no choice that they must get to the girls, she clasped Jutia’s strong shoulder and whispered again in her ear.
“We work well together. You are a great warrior.”
Then, motioning for the other five of their group to join them, she sent out the signal for the attack to begin.
Running toward the village, two women stopped at the edge as had been planned while the others from the group kept going. Eurynome headed first for the hut where the screams had come from earlier. The light peeking out from under its thatched door was the only illumination, other than that of the cook fire in the center of the village that was now becoming soundless embers.
Eurynome stopped a few feet from the hut, grabbed Jutia, and told the others to wait, indicating that if the men gave chase the women that remained outside should be ready.
When they entered the hut, the four men inside were so surprised that two were on the floor moaning before the others knew they were being attacked. When she and Jutia backed up close to the doorway, the men grabbed their weapons to follow only to be clubbed into unconsciousness and tied up by the women outside.
Women from the group as planned went to the young girls that were lying on the floor. They were bleeding and bruised; one was tied to a large post, and the other two had their hands tied together and did not look like they recognized their rescuers. In their fear, the girls began to scream, and within seconds, the village had come alive with shrieks and sounds of terror.
Eurynome and Jutia, once sure the girls were being tended to, went outside, and seeing men rush from their huts with weapons they headed for the largest man. Jutia circled around as they had practiced, and came up behind him. Eurynome fell to all fours in front of him and Jutia pushed him towards Eurynome so that he lost his footing. Jutia then jumped on top of him and plunged the knife into his neck.
Feeling a hard kick to her side, Jutia looked up and a man was standing above her wielding a club. Helpless to move, she protected her head as he began to swing his club. In the next moment, he fell forward, completely limp, nearly crushing her. With effort, she pushed his foul smelling body off and rolled to her feet.
Looking toward Eurynome, she saw that she was removing her knife from the man’s throat. Jutia noticed that her leader halted for just an instant, a deep look of pain crossing her face before she moved back into the fray.
Despite the confusion and pandemonium the group worked well together; it was obvious their plan was falling into place. The men were surprised and could not see well as they piled out of their huts, running into each other with drunken perplexity. The women of the village were busy protecting their children, and did not seem the least bit
interested in helping the men.
“She is their leader. Kill her!” roared one of the men as three of them headed for Eurynome. Surprising them, she ran toward them and came off the ground with both feet squarely hitting the first man in the chest, knocking him down. She landed, rolled and crouched before throwing a dagger which caught one of her attackers between the eyes. A third man, larger than any human she had ever seen, grabbed her as she was rising and pushed her back on the ground. His knife glancing off her armor seemed to enrage him. Fury, reverberating like thunder, shook the ground under her.
“Whore, whore!” he shouted. “I will gut you, and as you slowly die, I shall have my pleasure!”
Discarding his knife, he fumbled with his crotch, giving Eurynome the opportunity to reach for the sharp weapon. He foiled her attempt, and clutching it by its hilt, he plunged it into her armpit, going deep into her flesh. A searing pain tore through her body before everything went black. As she slumped forward, he removed the knife to strike again, but Jutia was quick to grab a club and beat him till his mountainous body lay helpless on the ground.
Eurynome rose up slowly, helped by Jutia. Blackness chased her consciousness, as she made a show of dusting herself off. The noise, clamor and shrieking had subsided and there were no men left fighting. They were either dead, wounded, or running toward the boats.
Eurynome noticed Jutia and her daughter Ageianna were chasing one of the men who was heading for the river, and realized that if he were able to get away, the pilgrimage would not be safe.
But Jutia’s feet were swift. Coming up behind him, she vaulted through the air, knocking him into the water. Anger radiated from him as he emerged, spitting mud and cursing.
“You will die for this!” he shouted, raising his fist. “Do you know who I am?”
As mother and daughter attacked him, he fought ferociously! Hitting Jutia with a closed fist on the side of her face, he knocked her under the water, leaped on her and held her down. Ageianna grabbed a rock as he was choking her mother, and hit him again and again, though the force of the first blow was sufficient to render him unconscious. Jutia, sputtering and coughing, reached out to her daughter, and they fell into each other’s arms, overwhelmed with relief to be alive.