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

by Rane, April

  Then he happily shared with her how his mother had taught him of the culture of the goddess and always let him know that prophecy was a sacred and holy event.

  “Did your mother have lots of visions? Did she have a spirit guide? Did your father believe in, well…you know?”

  “Have you always felt you could not speak of these things to a man? I’m sorry for it if you have, but now you know that you can talk to me of these things.”

  Stryangaeus stroked her face tenderly, enamored of the golden sparks in her eyes.

  “To answer your questions, yes, mother had lots of visions. I don’t know what a spirit guide is, so I suppose my mother didn’t have one. And no, my father only believed in himself, and in gold, which was very sad. He missed out in life, because he never knew what love was, though my mother loved him well.”

  They spoke about their childhoods, their beliefs and their friends. At one point, he ordered a meal and Gaylor came and merrily laid it out for them, all the while stealing covet looks at his master’s prisoner, and giving her a shy smile when she asked his name, but he seemed reluctant to speak.

  “This is Gaylor,” Stryangaeus said proudly putting his hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “He is going to bring us fresh fish for supper. I happen to know he is a great fisherman as I taught him myself.”

  Gaylor started to bow to her, but then uncertain if he should bow or not, to a captive, he ran off in search of friendly fish.

  Shielding her eyes from the sun, Czarinaea watched until the young boy was out of sight before she covered Stryangaeus with her hungry body saying, “I want you again. I need you.” Pulling off her light tunic she purred in his ear. “Then you may tell me your name and why I am here. But not until I have had my fill of you.”

  Her lips lightly brushed over his high cheek bones and moved to kiss his ear. Her breath hot and sweet sent shivers down his spine. Her husky whispers made his manhood ache as if he had not made love in a great while.

  “My queen, my queen!” he cried out as his passion rose to a fevered pitch. “Never leave me.”

  When they lay side by side again, feeling the comfort that familiar lovers do, Czarinaea asked, “Why do you call me your queen when you wear the tunic of a Median soldier?”

  Stryangaeus paused for a long moment, composing his thoughts, knowing that he must tell her of his position as prince of the Medes, and of his wife, and his willingness to betray all of it because of his love for her.

  “You are queen to me,” he finally said. “You represent all that I have ever wanted or needed in a friend, a lover and in a wife. Your sensual beauty, your regal bearing, your courage and strength all call out to me to be more than I have ever been before. I would strive to be king for you, or give away all I have worked for until now, in the name of love. I would fight a battle to the death if you were to be my prize. I would lie, cheat and steal for you, yet I would die if you thought I was immoral, for until now it has not been a part of my life.”

  Rising, he reached for her hand.

  “I call you queen, for it befits you. Come let us walk for a while.”

  His heartfelt words made it very difficult for each of them to speak of the reality of the situation. Stryangaeus was ready to lie to the Scythians. He was willing to say she had been killed in battle, but they both knew that custom dictated that he would have to produce her dead body. After all, she was a queen!

  Czarinaea knew it was hard for him to understand, that, though she despised her mate, she needed to go back. With a huge sigh, she finally spoke.

  “The Goddess dictates that I lead the Scythians. I do not know how this will come about, but I will be their leader and they will become my people. I cannot shirk this duty nor do I want to. Let me stay for a bit with you. Then…well…then you must send me back. We will meet again, trust me. I have shared my visions with you, and I have seen us together in the future.”

  “Yes. It was because of your visions that you welcomed me unto your body,” he replied. “I know I must have faith. Does your vision say that we will be lovers again?”

  “Oh, yes. A short time hence we shall again be lovers,” Czarinaea said, closing her eyes as she ran her fingers down his face, allowing the visions to mesh with reality.

  “Will you then release me back to the Scythians?” she added sadly.

  Stryangaeus hung his head when she said this. He was so proud and beautiful that she hated to see him in this pose. She could feel the passion that was his nature slipping away. When he looked at her his eyes were filled with pain.

  “I shall release you to your people,” he told her, “but there is something I want you to take back with you.”

  He gingerly pulled a small earthen bottle out from the confines of his robe, tears misting his eyes. “Here is a gift,” he murmured, “one that speaks of all that you mean to me.”

  Czarinaea took the stopper out of the bottle and the scent of roses wafted through the air.

  “The rose is the most regal flower on the earth,” he told her. “My mother always said it was gifted from beings that came from stars to remind us of our light. You are a light, and others will always follow you. The Attar of Roses is to remind you of your destiny, and to allow you to know that my love is as eternal as the stars.”

  Clutching the earthen bottle to her heart, she turned from him to hide the deep sorrow that was etched across her face at the anguished thought of leaving him.

  The few days that they had together were filled with laughter, tears, passion and tenderness. Their hearts brimmed with fullness for all things that have ever been or will ever be. They slept very little. Instead, they rode, swam and ate. Everything they did was full of passion, yet their eyes shone with gentleness for each other and anyone they encountered.

  A truce was set up so that the Medes could hand over the queen to the Scythians. A promise was given on both sides that no lives would be lost during, or on the day of the exchange.

  Stryangaeus knew the ego of Marmareus was going to have a hard time dealing with his wife being nursed back to health by his enemy, especially after there was no clear cut winner in the battle they had just fought. Also he knew that Marmareus had many more men than the Medes and that must be a thorn in his side. Stryangaeus had indeed outwitted the cagey Scythian.

  The villagers surrounding the camp of the Scythians started to bake acorn bread for the occasion. Gossip and songs arose about the effect of their queen on the Mede warriors.

  The Medes, it seemed, had become quite enamored of her and were caught up in the festivity of the truce, preparing fruit and vegetables to share with their former enemies. They were even singing songs that hailed a warrior queen.

  Of the songs that were sung in the countryside, one detailed a woman of great beauty that was neither Scythian nor a Mede, but an Emetchi. She was born with inner knowledge of horses, the heart of a loving woman, and the mind of a warrior, so the tunes proclaimed. One song in particular mentioned that a strong and kind warrior prince had fallen in love with a woman called Czarahippa, which means, ‘She who Reigns over Horses.’

  When the appointed day arrived, Marmareus was in a foul mood. The festivities had enraged him. He could not stop all the furious thoughts in his head. All this fuss about that brazen hussy! He wondered how she had convinced them to release her and his incense at her talents boiled over in his mind. A contest of skill with the best they had to offer, no doubt! They are not warriors, not a decent one among them, he thought. It’s time he put her in her place!

  The songs he had heard enraged him. She was his property. He could not allow his mind to give credence to the gossip. He wondered why she was still not with child, and pledged that he would see that when she was returned to him, he would not let her leave his bed until she was. A few good beatings and she would bend to his will. And with a child in her belly, she would not be so quick to reproach him. He pushed from his mind again the songs he had heard of the Prince and Czarinaea being enamored of each other, telling
himself that was impossible! But the Mede’s seeming respect for her had him confused and fuming!

  Majestic hills stood in the background of the deep green valley where two warriors came forward carrying banners with each clan’s crest of honor blowing in the breeze. The white scarves just below the banners belonged to King Marmareus and Prince Stryangaeus, indicating a temporary truce and if one life was lost the person that erred would lose his head. It was an ancient custom and all knew it would be followed.

  The warriors exchanged scarves and turned their horses so that they were facing their units. Their backs to the enemy showed trust to the other side and honor for the ones to come onto the battle-field to surrender, and to receive the queen. The king rode forward and at the same time Stryangaeus broke formation and rode with Czarinaea toward her husband. Marmareus glared at the queen and stole glances at the one beside her.

  Ha! The great son-in-law of the Mede dynasty, he thought with disgust. He will pay for this! He will pay with his life. The strength and anger that gripped him as he reached for his lance was enough to make his horse rear up. This brought him to his senses for the moment, and he vowed to take vengeance on Prince Stryangaeus in the next battle, or before if he could manage it.

  Stryangaeus dared not look at Czarinaea for he knew that if he did, he might weaken and ride off with her. He looked only forward and did not see the hate in the eyes of Marmareus.

  As the reins were ceremoniously handed over to the king, a great cheer from both sides went up. This seemed to anger Marmareus even more, and he galloped off towards his men. When Czarinaea reached for the reins, he kept them from her and lashed his horse harder bringing both horses to a full gallop.

  Marmareus’ court was in an uproar. Looking down from the sleeping quarters where she had been imprisoned for nearly one moon, Czarinaea knew the din below was about her. The people were not happy with the way Marmareus treated her. They felt she was to be worshipped as a Goddess, for had she not enchanted the enemy?

  There had been one more small battle between the Medes and the Scythians, and then peace reigned. Talk of a marriage contract to seal the peace started between one of the Scythian warriors and a well-respected lady of the Mede’s court. The king let the talk continue, allowing time for his devious plan to unfold. On a moonlit night he set out to surprise the Medes in their beds.

  The journey took five days, for Marmareus had misled his troops until the very last minute when they arrived at their destination in the middle of the night, just as the king had planned.

  Though his men were exhausted, he ordered them to cover their bodies in mud and move stealthily into the quarters of the king, the prince and princess. Many were disgruntled, some fearful. Most were angry at the reckless tactics of their king. Though they were confused, they grudgingly went about the attack. But the men were not privy to the fact that Marmareus wanted to take Stryangaeus as a captive to regain his ego and take revenge on the man that had imprisoned his wife and set tongues to wagging. Marmareus had been able to think of nothing more. He had allowed the talk of peace so that the Medes would be caught off guard.

  It could not be called a battle; it was a slaughter. Stryangaeus was captured. He was brutally beaten and taken in his night clothes. His wife was with her father in their home on the Black Sea. King Marmareus had not counted on that. Getting into the quarters had been easy. Marmareus preened himself on his prowess until he realized why there were hardly any guards posted. He took it out on Stryangaeus, watching his men nearly beat him to death.

  He had hoped to rape and kill the princess in front of her father, the king, before killing him. He felt a man who was foolish enough to let a warrior marry his daughter and then allow the people to treat him as, and call him their prince was too weak to live. And of course he ached to let Stryangaeus live just long enough to completely degrade him. The Scythian king made Stryangaeus run along behind him for the three day journey back to Tanais, delighting in his revenge, even though his captive remained silent throughout.

  Stryangaeus assumed this meant that Czarinaea was still alive for he realized that he was being taken back to be put to death in front of her. His eyes misted over as he remembered how it felt to have her arms around him and her lips on his. He was not sorry for what had happened, only that their love had caused her grief. And he was fearful for her life. He wondered how Marmareus had found out, but if one were to listen, the songs that moved through the countryside told the story.

  He was treated like an animal by Marmareus, but he did not utter a sound, holding fast to the hope that somehow he would see Czarinaea again. Then he would sing her the songs he had heard the peasantry sing of her and make love to her over and over again.

  Before Marmareus had left on his secret mission to slaughter the royal family, he had left word that the queen was to not to be fed until his return. But he had not counted on her friend Lotzar bribing her way past the guard at the door with the promises of sexual favors. Lotzar had made nightly visits with her friend bringing sweet prunes, acorn bread and ale, and when the queen fell asleep, she would venture out to the guard and fully enjoy the promise she had made earlier in the evening. Falling into her bed exhausted, she felt powerful from having been so bold in the face of danger.

  On the eighth night of Marmareus’ absence, Lotzar entered the queen’s room with the food she had smuggled in. Soon she ordered that water was to be heated and a tub brought up after reminding the attendants that there had been no order that she not bathe, just that she did not eat! Soon the walls rang with laughter as Lotzar taught Czarinaea the rowdy songs of the peasantry.

  Lotzar then began to imitate one of the king’s councilmen. Both fell into peals of laughter as Lotzar rolled her eyes with the mannerism of the staid man’s dismay at the fact that Marmareus had secretly left camp. He was a funny little man and she mimed him perfectly.

  Czarinaea sobered for a moment, said, “I have had another vision but I daren’t tell you. You could be killed for knowing it! But I can tell you this, I will see him again. We will be together.

  “Have you ever loved, Lotzar? Really loved?”Czarinaea asked, shaking inside as she recognized her enormous discomfort as fear. Memories of the few times in her life she had experienced fear came to her mind, along with a memory of her spirit guide telling her that when she encountered fear she should ask for its name.

  The sober moment turned to one of deep self-reflection. Czarinaea stopped and sat on the side of the bed talking under her breath. Stryangaeus had taught her to feel and to trust in love. Trust takes you away from oppression. So, the name of this fear that gripped her must be oppression.

  Looking at Lotzar, she said the words aloud. “So the name of my fear is oppression.”

  Lotzar, who had been in the midst of answering at length Czarinaea’s question about love, ceased speaking, and stood there astounded.

  “Who can oppress me if I choose it not?”Czarinaea said with great conviction.

  Watching as Lotzar’s eyes widened in fear, she thought, she knows I am about to change the direction of my life, and though she does not quite understand, she will stand by me no matter what.

  Lotzar went to sit on the bed next to her friend and took her hand.

  “My husband can brutalize me but he cannot oppress my spirit unless I let him,” said Czarinaea, her eyes golden with fresh understanding. “I’ve worn my pride like armor, but it has not always served me! It is our pride that tells us that we must behave in a certain manner, like not wanting to look weak in the eyes of someone you feel is less than, or more than you.”

  Czarinaea hung her head, and a tear slipped down her cheek and fell on to their entwined hands.

  “I’ve worn my pride like a mantle,” she continued. “I’ve preened myself with it and I’ve come to trip over it.”

  Czarinaea’s face lit up and looking into her friend’s eyes, she knew what she must do. “Lotzar, bring me some jewels and the garment from the east that Marmareus presented me on
my wedding day,” she said. “I must greet my husband in style.”

  Surmising just what her friend had in mind, Lotzar acted quickly to abide by her friend’s decision.

  Czarinaea was dressed and ready none too soon. She knew that she must act weak, for her husband needed to be convinced she had not eaten for days. She must look as though she had thought things through, and it would help if she could even act a bit afraid of him. That would be the hardest, but nothing else would work in this instance. If her vision was right Stryangaeus would be with him and….

  A loud clamoring was heard from below. Stiffening her spine she went to peer out of the window and her heart caught in her throat upon seeing the condition of her lover. She forced herself to look at her husband, to smile and wave. The men raised their shields towards her and cheered. Many were glad to see her, for they knew Marmareus had imprisoned her when he left.

  Lotzar scurried out of the door and Czarinaea politely asked the guard if he would accompany her down to greet her husband. He seemed unsure, but Lotzar smiled and flirted with him.

  “Well,” he hesitated, “it was not specified that you should not greet him on his arrival home. Let us make our way to him and welcome him back.”

  As the guard opened the door for the queen, Marmareus could be heard barking orders to his council who were standing in the entrance hall. Czarinaea’s raven hair was piled high atop her head and loose curls framed her captivating face. Chin held high, she fairly floated down the hallway toward her husband’s booming voice. Lotzar, in an effort to not miss anything, was not far behind. The guard made a quick exit as Czarinaea bowed gracefully to Marmareus and nodded to each councilman.

  “Welcome my husband,” she said in the hush that followed her appearance. “Your arrival gives my heart joy.” She smiled at each quiet face behind him. “I shall have sup set for you and your leadsman also, if you would like. Then you may tell me all about your conquest.”