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

by Rane, April

  The men in the entrance way did not want to leave, so eager were they to have the pleasure of her company. Yet all of them wanted to be out of the unpredictable path of the king.

  Stunningly beautiful, the silk clung to her finely chiseled body, her hair swept off of her face defined her high cheekbones and her eyes sparkled yellow-gold from the wine she had drunk in hope that it might make her more amiable.

  Czarinaea was a sight to be remembered and there was no doubt in the minds of all who watched that her splendor would be on the lips of the peasantry and in their songs for many years to come. When the king glared at the members of his council, they scurried away, taking one last coveted look their resplendent and sensuous queen.

  “Lotzar, alert the baker and the kitchen lass. Have them prepare a feast for my husband,” Czarinaea commanded. “Tell them to bring jasmine oil to rest his bones.”

  And then, having said all this, she slumped a bit forward, allowing her husband to catch her in his arms.

  Sighing, she asked, “Pardon sir, I am just a bit weak. Perhaps I could sup with you?”

  Marmareus, caught off guard and exhausted by his journey, and spellbound by the beauty of his wife, gladly accepted her suggestion, thinking she had finally come to her senses.

  Mareus, the lead councilman, the only one that had not scurried off, looked in admiration at Czarinaea as he bowed to take his leave. Catching her eye, Czarinaea could tell that he was aware that she had not conceded anything, but perhaps he was uncertain of what she might be up to.

  During the meal Czarinaea was delightfully attentive, listening to every word and bowing her head often. Marmareus gladly took this for respect just as she had hoped. In truth, there were times she thought she could not pull it off. She knew that if the emotion she was really feeling showed in her eyes it would be a weapon her mate could use against her.

  She talked pleasantly about the celebration they should have because of his conquest, the types of food and music they would present. It was with a great effort that she retained her sensual appeal, especially when her husband spoke of his mockery of Stryangaeus and she was forced to turn her eyes away lest he saw the hatred in them.

  The sadness she felt as she listened and compared the two men was overwhelming. She could not picture her lover being so cruel toward his enemy. She knew that if he were to execute someone it would be quick and clean, leaving the man and his family dignity. She had no respect for the man sitting across from her and it was hard not to let that show.

  Having had Lotzar put a sleeping solution in the king’s drink, just enough so that after a long day’s ride that he should fall deeply into a hard and restful sleep, she led him to the sleeping chamber, attended his needs, helped him undress and disappeared conveniently until he was sound asleep.

  Finding one of the young guards outside of the entranceway to the house enjoying Lotzar’s outrageous flirting, Czarinaea asked that he accompany her to check on the prisoner for the king, and followed as he led the way to the high walled area that contained the huts used for housing enemies and horse thieves. Calling out to the guard to let them inside, he proudly stationed himself at the entrance,

  Boldly encountering the unkempt and impassive prison guard, Czarinaea spoke with authority.

  “I will attend the king’s questions of the Mede leader alone,” she told him, “as he has entrusted me with this duty.”

  Once the door to Stryangaeus’ cell was opened, she paused and whispered to the guard, “As I have shared with you, I need to ask questions of the prisoner, questions that are important to the well-being of the Scythians. But first I must gain his confidence. Have Coleus bring me water, lye, and soap. Also bring some gruel to feed him with, and a pallet for me so that I may be in comfort while attending these matters.” After the guard had reluctantly left them alone together, Czarinaea walked toward her lover, her back straight, her face a mask.

  “Say nothing,” she said in a firm tone, then noticing his weaken state, softened her voice, “I am here to tend your wounds. I will not go into your arms until you listen to my plan. I intend to speak to the King’s councilmen of a truce between our people. Talk of such has long been bantered about, but the king’s ego has been in the way. I will tell the council that you have shared with me that the Medes are willing to pay an enormous dowry to our distinguished warrior Benoeus, for a royal marriage to your wife’s cousin Lycea. This union has much merit and will bring peace to our great tribes.”

  When her lover held out his arms to her, she backed away and cautioned him by raising her hand.

  “Not until you agree to my plan. I realize that to offer the king gold for your release will not work, but this will,” she continued in a low voice. “He will of course recognize that it would be prudent to keep you alive to bring this marriage about, as it will bring much gold to Scythians and to him personally. The council will make him see the benefit of this plan, but it must look as if the plan came from him.”

  At that point Coleus appeared with the things she had sent for.

  “I thank you, Coleus,” she told him, knowing that her past kindnesses to him would guarantee his loyalty. Often she had sat by the fire and listened to the men as they told their stories of the battle, instilling in them confidence and respect, knowing that they often spoke, when thinking themselves alone of the fact that she was a jewel in their king’s bed.

  “Please close the door and station yourself outside to ensure my safety. You are a loyal soldier.”

  Inside the prison room Czarinaea worked slowly to clean and tend the wounds of her lover. She had brought with her salve from the Golden Rod tree and seed extract from the yellow fruit that took out infection. Stryangaeus tried to speak, but placing her hand over his lips, she pleaded with her eyes for his silence, knowing his words would break her heart. He was weak from infection and loss of blood from many deep wounds; it seemed that he did not have the strength to argue. Not allowing the knowledge of his pain to interfere with what she needed to do, she deftly tended his wounds.

  His feet and legs were the worst, for small pebbles were imbedded under the skin and huge lacerations had peeled away so much of the skin that she wondered how it would ever heal. At one point she called for Coleus to bring more light, which he patiently held as she worked through the night. As dawn approached, Czarinaea quickly finished and left reluctantly to hurry back into the king’s bed before he awakened.

  Czarinaea quietly slipped under the coverlet of their bed, and lay very still, aware that she must not fall asleep for it would be hard for her to awaken after such an arduous night.

  Awakening, the king turned toward her, and roughly turning her on her face, took her over and over again with raw heated passion until finally, his lust abated, he fell into a fitful sleep.

  When Czarinaea arose, she felt more battered than she had on the night he left on his secret mission. That night he had caught her off guard by pinning her under the covers. Then he had tied her hands and secured them above her head. And although she had struggled violently, he had been able to tie her strong legs down as well. Then, ripping off her night clothes, he beat and raped her, snarling crude and ugly words in her ear.

  “You will bow to me,” he told her. “I am your king, your husband! You are no more than dirt under my feet unless I say that you are more. Say it! Tell me you will bow to me. Say it. Say it!”

  Remembering that night she thought of all the other times he had mistreated her. In the beginning she had fought back, but when she would best him, he would become devious and sadistically brutal, and with every opportunity would injure her in any way that he could. When she talked of going back to her people he had said, “If you choose that path, I will burn your village to the ground!”

  Finally Czarinaea fell into a restless sleep, haunted by the face of her lover. As exhausted as she was, inner knowing awoke her just as Marmareus was waking up. Like lightning she jumped out of bed, saying she would see to the morning meal.

&n
bsp; Everything was to the king’s liking, yet at the meal he spoke to the cook and the kitchen lass in hushed tones, constantly asking to be assured that only they would prepare the food and serve it to him. Though he was enjoying his wife’s new found submissiveness, it was clear to Czarinaea that he suspected her motives.

  “Prince Stryangaeus is to be executed this afternoon,” he said at last when he had cleaned his plate several times over. “There is no reason for delay, and afterward we shall have the celebration you spoke of.”

  Calmly she said, “Oh, so soon. I would like more preparation time for the celebration. Could we say three days hence?”

  Startled, he sat for a moment, rubbing his chin and then declared, “Well, why not? We will have more time for the excitement of it.”

  As soon as he left their dwelling, she sent for Lotzar and had her hurry to the councilmen that she knew could be trusted, to ask them to meet the queen in the garden for the noon meal.

  Czarinaea knew that the king usually spent the first day back from a battle of any kind visiting his many women throughout the providence, women with whom he created bastard children just to prove that he can sire sons.

  When the councilmen arrived, Czarinaea stood, nearly naked in a sheer tunic and leggings that were a little more than a puff of material, and greeted them warmly. Today, her hair was also swept off her face with a comb of gold and jewels holding it in place. Her skin was shining and her eyes glistened, for she felt the need for a bit of wine to loosen her tongue.

  Asking them to be seated, she immediately placed goblets in their hands and began by asking them how their families were. Charming the council with her genuine warmth, she told them how much she trusted their judgment. She also pointed out specific circumstances in which they had shown good leadership. Keeping their wine glasses filled and plying them with sweet delicacies, she then spoke of how their families would thrive if there were to be a peace treaty with the Medes.

  Czarinaea skillfully worked the conversation so that she was not the one to recommend the marriage that had been briefly discussed earlier between the Medes and Scythians. The match had been originally suggested after each side had lost many men in the last battle. When she referred to the king, she was careful to say that if it increased his larder he would be amenable. Before long, it was unanimous that they free the prisoner so that he could be the go-between for the marriage. They even spoke of a tempting dowry price that would be acceptable and to the king’s liking.

  They left happy and excited, declaring they would call a meeting on the morrow, all of them in agreement that it was in the king’s best interest that he not think that they were going behind his back. The councilmen filed out shaking their heads at their own wisdom while making plans for the next day.

  Mareus lingered behind as the rest left, asking for a moment with her. She respected this kind man and gladly accepted his company for one last drink of mead.

  “I think you’ve pulled it off!” Mareus said as he raised his glass in a toast to her.

  “What do you mean?” Czarinaea asked, pretending insouciance. Realizing it was probably more difficult to fool a good man as opposed to fooling a brute, she said. “To be frank, I think perhaps I have. I do have my reasons, but I would not do it if I did not think it was the best move for the clan.”

  “I agree,” he told her, narrow-eyed, “so let us drink to peace over our long enmity with the Medes… and I think I would like to also drink to peace in your heart,” and with a smile nodded to her as he took his leave.

  Czarinaea collapsed heavily on the sofa when he left.

  “Are you all right my lady?” Lotzar cried, rushing to her, but the queen burst out laughing at the serious expression on her friend’s face.

  “This ruse with Marmareus, and then the council, is harder than any battle that I’ve ever fought,” she told her friend. “But to have Mareus look through me, knowing that I was leading them, twisting them to my needs, to have him look through me like that…And yet he agrees! I am astounded! But I vow after this is over I shall never take this road again!”

  “But you are a warrior,” Lotzar reminded her. “You command men as well as women. You do not need to resort to such dalliances. I have no choice in the matter. I am a servant and because of great luck I am healthy to look at,” said Lotzar proudly.

  “What you say may be true,” Czarinaea agreed. “Hopefully, someday I will command and do it with great respect. In the case before us, however, it was being a woman that ignited this situation. I thought I would use being a woman to ignite flames in a different direction so that we may have peace.”

  The depth of sadness in Czarinaea eyes was so apparent that Lotzar averted her eyes.

  “Yes, and most importantly, so that your lover can live,” Lotzar said, sitting down beside her friend and taking her hand. “T’is nothing wrong in that. But I am hoping that your flames do not bring the world down around your head. May the Goddess have mercy on you, for there’s fear in my bones about the lot of it. Can you tell me of your vision? Perhaps now it would help to talk of it?”

  “No, I daren’t speak it. Just sit with me for a time,” Czarinaea said, as the vision of her sitting at the head of the council, as their leader, surfaced again. Always, just as a warrior stood and accused her of treason, the vision would abruptly end. Clearing her head, she realized that her friend was speaking again.

  “How did you know to address them so?” asked Lotzar.

  “I learned from the best,” Czarinaea said with a quick smile. “Oh, I have watched you flirt freely with the men. Invariably you get your wants taken care of and many times extra to boot! So I mimicked your manner, and well…the dress or lack of it certainly helped!”

  Lotzar smiled back broadly, “So I have taught you something. Of that I am glad, for you have given me much my friend.”

  “Stay with me. I need to rest,” said Czarinaea, and putting her head in her friend’s lap, she fell into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

  Much later, when Marmareus returned, Czarinaea feigned sleep. After servicing his women, he was weary enough not to disturb her and he slept late into the morning, leaving her free to creep out of bed. Relieved to start her day without her husband, and happy to be in the fresh morning air, she used the quiet time to think of how to set things right.

  When Marmareus entered the dining area ready to break his fast, the serving girl announced that the councilmen had been waiting through the morn to speak with him. He asked that his food be brought outdoors so that he could join the men and watch while Czarinaea broke one of the horses that had been giving the men a problem. In fact one man had been killed and one injured in an attempt to make a riding horse out of this one. And, tempting her with the possibility that once broken in, the guerdon would be hers, he had set about to wait until it was time for him to claim it for himself.

  Watching as the animal tried over and over again to throw his wife and fail, he told himself that the animal was a great prize, just as she was, and began to feel passion rising in him, only to find himself playing unwilling host to his councilmen who, with the greatest care, approached the subject that had brought them to him.

  The King was feeling very satisfied with himself. Yesterday had done much for his ego. With Czarinaea acting as she had, he decided that she was jealous of his outings, and hadn’t she waved and smiled at him fondly just now. The committee spoke at great length, being very careful to concede to his ravings. Being well aware of the signs of the king’s stubbornness, Mareus deftly led the conversation constantly toward financial gain, mentioning again the amount of gold that would be added to his personal treasure box until the king’s greed finally overcame his mulish rampage.

  “Perhaps I have come up with a good plan,” he told them smugly, as Mareus, behind his back, winked at his colleagues. “I know Stryangaeus. He will die too well. I am glad I have realized that a much better use of my capture of him should be made. It will please me to no end to make him look like
a fool! Ha! Doing the bidding of a marriage in return for his life will show him as a weakling!”

  That evening the king was in a jovial mood at sup and teased Czarinaea to guess what incredible feat he pulled off during the council meeting. Playing his game, she spoke of the many feats that he had taken on since their marriage. Heady with wine, he puffed out his chest and recounted the plans for release of the prisoner.

  “I suppose something must be done then to announce the marriage treaty, and mayhap we will be announcing the birth of our first child at the same time. Should I start making plans now sire?”

  Knocking his chair over, he picked her up and swung her around. For a moment Czarinaea was almost caught up in his overwhelming joy, but then remembered her fear that he might realize that the child was not his. Before the thought progressed any further, he surprised her.

  “My lovely fruitful one,” he announced, “I will sleep in the smaller sleeping quarters and leave you the large bed, so you will deliver me a healthy son!”

  Czarinaea caught her breath with relief as, carrying her into their bed chamber; he placed her down gently and departed.

  As she lay on the bed, Czarinaea, scarcely able to believe her good fortune, could only thank Goddess that he had not suspected the truth. And when Lotzar entered the room, it was clear she was bemused.

  “I’ve come to help you undress, to put you abed and to see that you take your rest,” she told her mistress sternly. “I’ve orders that you are not to ride! He is calling a meeting to replace your service as a warrior. Is the house burning down around us now… or is this just the torch that will eventually set the kingdom aflame?”

  Czarinaea motioned to Lotzar to come closer, and then whispered in her ear, “Shush, he believes the child his, for the sake of the child we must see that he continues to believe that.”