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

by Rane, April

  “But… Yes, I see. Of course it’s his!”

  Czarinaea felt like a prisoner in their bedroom. Her heart ached to see Stryangaeus. Quietly going to the bedroom door in the middle of the night, she found that there were guards placed on either side. Smiling and nodding their heads at her in a conspiring way, they acted as if they had been privy to a wonderful secret. So she began to devise a plan. If her lover was still imprisoned this night hence, she would visit him.

  The day was busy, but she was all too well aware that she was constantly being watched. As long as she was seated, Marmareus allowed her to see as many people as she wanted to. Throughout the day, she went about making plans for an assemblage and proper entertainment for the announcement of the two great events. So as not to give thought to either her lover or the child, for both were so intertwined and both gave her great pleasure and great sadness, she kept herself occupied. Yet waves of fear for her child and her lover gripped her if she let her thoughts go any further than the present moment.

  Sitting alone, Czarinaea counted the days again of her last menses. She must, she knew, be honest with herself. She did not want Marmareus’ child, and had taken great measures to see to it. Yet could she be absolutely sure? To have a child and constantly search his face for recognition… or to see there what she wished not to see… She could not bear it. She would not hold on to her senses. Putting her hand on her stomach brought her a mixture of love and fear. She knew this to be Stryangaeus child, and yet when the fear gripped her she lost her inner knowledge and the truth eluded her.

  Going in search of Lotzar, she pulled her down the hallway and into the bedroom. Flinging herself into her friend’s arms, she cried, “What can I do?” The two friends wept together. Finally the long sobs subsided and Czarinaea pulled herself together.

  “I must see Stryangaeus” she said, cupping her stomach. “He is still imprisoned, as he has not yet agreed to be the go-between for the marriage. I must convince him.”

  Lotzar asked, “Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes,” Czarinaea replied. “We will exchange garments. I will pull the hood of your robe over my head and leave this room as if I am you. Then I will go to him.”

  “You must not risk it!” Lotzar cried, alarmed. “I am not speaking of this night! I mean the child, Marmareus will know. You must seriously look at this situation and do something about it!” Wringing her hands, she paced nervously.

  “Don’t worry. I am doing something! I am keeping my wits and moving ahead. This is what mother has always said to do in a battle.”

  “This is not a battle” said Lotzar pleadingly “this is…”

  “Oh yes… It is a battle and there will be death, for I have seen it! Though I know not who will die,” said Czarinaea with a sad distant look in her eye. “Yet there will be no winner. But still I must ask. Do this for me. I must see him. Marmareus is away. I will be quick about it. I have to do this. Please,” pleaded Czarinaea.

  Staging an argument, the two friends raised their voices in feigned anger. Czarinaea burst from the room, throwing a tirade of curses over her shoulder, startling the guards. Drawing the hood over her face, she raced down the hall. The guards shrugged and exchanged a knowing look, as if to say, “Women!”

  When she arrived where Stryangaeus was imprisoned, she bowed her head and said her mistress wanted her to see to the needs of the prisoner. One of the guards recognized her garment and thinking it was Lotzar grabbed her and said. “Perhaps you will have some time for me afterwards, heh?”

  Czarinaea slapped his hand away and, lowering her voice and coughing, said, “Can’t you tell I’m feeling ill?”

  When she entered the small room Stryangaeus did not even look up, thinking it was one of the king’s servants.

  “Go away. I am fine,” he said in a cold still voice. “I wish no bother about my wounds. They will heal in good time. Or is it that now there is thought of profit, they wish to keep me alive? Truly I would rather death, for such degrading mistreatment as I received from your king is abhorrent.”

  But when she uttered his name, the stillness in the room spoke of ageless recognition. “Czarinaea…”

  Pressing her fingers gently to his lips she said, “There is worse than to be dragged by a horse and beaten in front of the warriors of your enemy. There is worse even, than to be imprisoned and to play at politics in exchange for your life. You balk at this, as though it matters not if you live or die…” Her words became heavy like molten lead running the course of a dry riverbed, and he shuddered at the sound of her pain.

  “There is worse.”…She hesitated drawing a long deep breath. “To be queen, to have the trust and love of your people, yet betray it. To love a man, a prince, who is an enemy of your people… a man who is not free to love you… and worse still… to carry his child. Within this there is nowhere to turn. Even my death will not erase the mark on the child if it is allowed to live. And so this queen begs you to take the offer of your life… to leave from here as soon as can be arranged and to never turn back.”

  Her breath stopped in her chest as she waited for his answer.

  He knelt at her feet. “My queen, my queen,” he begged, “do not ask this of me. My love for you can move mountains. I will find a way.”

  Hugging her legs he buried his head in the softness of her belly and his tears dampened her garment. She bent and caressed his head, his beautiful hair. A silent tear ran down her cheek and mixed with his. Her fingers touching his skin set her on fire and she moved down and melted into his arms.

  He pulled away for just a moment and said, “I do nor want to hurt you.”

  “The hurting is not in the loving,” she told him. “It is in the losing, for surely this cannot happen oft, this kind of love? Surely it is meant for us to be together… in some other lifetime mayhap…?”

  Her words trailed off as the pain of losing him tore through her heart. Holding him closer, she beseeched the universe to take pity on her and assure her somehow, somewhere in time, he would be hers.

  As before, they melded together and their spirits rose above their bodies and their souls entwined. She saw them making love and felt it at the same time, being part of it yet becoming part of all there is. There was a deep knowing in her heart that she belonged to this person, that she was more because of him and somehow she was diminished to think of a life without him. Yet she felt strength through his love, to do what had to be done.

  A small shaft of light fell on his face as she guided him inside of her again. His ecstasy flowed through his eyes, allowing her to be part of his adoration of her, giving her an overpowering feeling of control and abandon, of strength and weakness, and of height and depth that took her to the edge instantly.

  He lost himself in pleasure and agony. As he climaxed, he felt his hot seed spilling inside of her, and in her passion her nails opened his wounds creating a stream of warm blood on his back which made him rejoice since the pain allowed him to know this was not a dream, for he had dreamed of nothing but her since they met. Physical pain was no match for the emotional pain of not being with her.

  Soon enough I will be queen, she thought, but for now I am a woman. I will enjoy him while I can for there will never be another to take his place. As they reached yet one more peak together, they looked into each other’s eyes. Love, admiration, and respect mirrored between them, firing anew their passion. Over and over they climaxed wanting only more, until their salty tears unified their bodies, blending their hearts for all time.

  The tears moved him to cradle her, and as he did she felt waves of tenderness wafting from him as if he were comforting a new babe; and then he began to sing a tune from his childhood as he rocked her to sleep in his arms.

  Oh…. the sound of his voice… One more thing to lose, she thought as she drifted off. No, I will think of it on the morrow for now I am in his arms.

  Meanwhile, Lotzar, afraid that Marmareus would come home and find her in the bedroom instead of Czarinaea, spoke through
the door sounding like the queen.

  “Fetch me my maid,” she demanded. “She is with the prisoner. Knock first before you enter, for I have told her to keep him happy this night.”

  It was important that word got back to Marmareus about the night long tryst with Lotzar on orders of the queen. It would further the doubts that he was having about anything between his wife and the prince. If her child was to have any chance at all she must move suspicion away from herself and Stryangaeus.

  Czarinaea had just settled under the blankets when Marmareus’ booming voice shook her bed and she sat bolt upright. He entered and threw a warm wrap her way telling her that she much rise and see what her plan had accomplished. She could not tell from his manner whether he was pleased or not. Then again, she thought if it was not his idea, no matter what the outcome he might not be pleased.

  He ushered her to the enclosure just in time to see the prince escorted out of the prison, and brought to the center of the town where prisoners were tortured or sometimes beheaded. It took every ounce of her will to not cry out as she turned toward her husband.

  “You have had me awaken for this! I shall go back to bed now for I am feeling a bit weak.”

  Her knees buckled, and for the second time in two days he caught her, from the look on his face she could tell it made him feel strong and needed.

  “Being with child has taken the sassiness out of your manner,” he boastfully told her, “I shall have to keep you in this state!”

  Feigning interest in what he was saying to her, she listened instead to what her lover was saying to the councilman, amazed and relieved at the strength in his voice as he spoke of marriage plans and peace. Her eyes filled with tears of happiness, but she knew she must not allow her emotions their sway.

  “Oh,” she said, “he has moved beyond his stubbornness I see.”

  “Yes, my dear,” he said, putting his arm around her, “thanks to your generous gift of last eve.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as he continued, his voice tinged with lust.

  “Lotzar must be very talented. Your strategy in politics is as good as your ability with horses.”

  Czarinaea flinched. She had not realized that if the plan worked he would place a lustful eye on Lotzar. She felt a heavy burden for placing her friend in such a light. What had she done? What cost this love to all of those who know of its existence? She felt as if her heart was being crushed, and her thoughts moved to the wife of Stryangaeus. This child should be hers. She had not only taken her husband’s love, but his seed. And now she, Czarinaea, must right all that has been put wrong.

  His release was first and most important. Czarinaea continued to act as if it meant nothing to her. But her every thought and prayer was on his safe return to his land. I will pray to Artemis to help me bring this to pass. She has known what it means to lose her lover, yet she found the strength to go on. In the back of her mind was the story she had heard of Artemis shooting her lover by accident to prove she was a better shot than her brother, but she tried desperately to think instead of the merry stories she had heard about Artemis and her wood nymphs, and her adventuresome spirit.

  “Artemis, great Goddess,” she prayed. “Give me your strength. I need the courage to send away my lover for his safety, and also because it is the right thing to do. He will rule his clan and have a kingship because of his marriage. I have heard she is a wonderful blend of child/woman with a quiet nature, and many say she is an endearing spirit. Mayhap if I had known this in the beginning… But, no it would be foolish to think anything could have kept me from his arms. Still, so much harm has been done. I must be brave… Artemis, please help me!’ she implored.

  With empty eyes she looked up to see her husband standing with a group of his warriors, watching as four guards rode with Stryangaeus, taking him back to his people.

  Lotzar came to her side. “My friend,” she said. “Let me help you to bed.”

  “No… there is much to do, I must…”

  “I did not say my queen. I said my friend!” Lotzar interrupted her. “And as such I have the right to tell you that you do not look well. I must, if not for the sake of you, then, for the sake of your child, do what is best.”

  And knowing that her friend was right, Czarinaea went to her bedroom where she slept for two days, with Lotzar standing vigil.

  In a fortnight, a rider came from the court of the Medes with greetings to the king and queen and a list of suggested dates for the wedding and a roster of those who would attend. It was hinted that the ceremony be on neutral ground, and that an emissary would be coming with the dowry. This pleased the king who turned to Mareus and said, “As soon as the emissary arrives I want all of you in attendance to count and inventory the gold and jewels. You Mareus are responsible for it till it is hidden and safe.”

  Riding atop a magnificent Arabian stallion with a golden bridle, Prince Stryangaeus boldly entered the city of Tanais. A slight breeze blew his sun bronzed hair away from his compelling face, his light emerald eyes taking in every nuance of movement around him. His garment was made of the finest skins and he wore no armor.

  The arrival of the prince set all of the peasants bustling. His entrance was quite a different one this time. Reining in his horse at the prison, he rode by it very slowly, and then came to a stop at the entrance of the great hall. Many Scythians had gathered in curiosity and excitement. When a councilman approached and asked if he could help him dismount, Prince Stryangaeus said,

  “I shall await your king. I was here by his… shall we say invitation before, and I would like to see that I am here by his invitation this day as well.”

  Most of the councilmen looked stunned, but one of them hurried off to fetch the king.

  There was no need to go far, for King Marmareus had been watching. His anger showed by the high color in his face, but his greed pushed him forward.

  “Prince Stryangaeus,” he said, trying to affect a leisurely walk toward the prince, “Welcome! Our city embraces you and the good fortune you bring to us as emissary of your people. Come, take mead with us. It is made from the finest honey and malt. Then mayhap you would wish to rest from your journey.”

  Peasants and warriors alike cheered, throwing their hats in the air and clapping each other on the shoulders, and some cried, for their kin that had died in battle with the Medes. “Now the killing can stop. Many lives will be spared,” they cried in unison.

  “It is an auspicious day,” said one of the councilmen. “Our children will bless us if we can keep peace between us.”

  Czarinaea watched from the bedroom window with Lotzar, both of them expressionless. Each was worried about the other, and Czarinaea was already planning how she would be able to see her lover. It was so easy to feel the conviction of her choice when he was in his homeland. But to see him, the beauty of him…to have him this close… She could not make pleasant talk to him when they dined, she told herself. It would be torture to be so close to him and not be in his arms. And he had been fool-hearty to come. What had possessed him to insult the king on his arrival? She admired his courage which, albeit brazen, was indisputably right. By his action he made it known that there is more to the situation than him buying his life. This is not the action of a man who cowardly begged for his life as the king would have the populace believe.

  Czarinaea’s mind wandered once again. The king clearly had such mixed feelings about Lotzar since the night he thought she’d bedded the prince. It is evident he desires her, yet he seems to hate her at the same time. He begrudged her new garments, and at their last outing had made unbecoming remarks toward her. He was used to women falling at his feet, and the Emetchi bowed to no man.

  Lotzar treated him like a brother, Czarinaea thought amused. One to be weary of no doubt, but as an equal none the less. She showed respect for his office in front of the council. However she did not act like a servant. The king made subtle advances and Lotzar acted as though she did not notice. Czarinaea was fearful he would next order
Lotzar to submit, and then there would be trouble.

  Holding one another’s hands tight, they looked into each other’s eyes, and knew that life from this point forward would never be the same again. With unspoken commitment to each other, they tidied up each other’s garments and hair and made way, silently, to the dining hall where the king’s council and the prince had already been seated, both women held themselves straight and tall, Czarinaea felt they were walking into a lion’s den.

  With that thought Czarinaea had a brief flash of a vile and evil man ordering everyone out of a dark cold room. Seeing herself lying on a small pallet she was aware of the pangs of childbirth and that she had been imprisoned by him… he was called ‘the lion.’

  Shivering, it became clear that in the past life she had just seen, her husband Marmareus was the lion.

  Knowing she dare not show fear, she went through the entrance and said. “The Goddess shines upon us this day. Do you bring your good wife, Prince Stryangaeus?”

  “She did not feel well enough for the journey, but she sends her… her thoughts. Yes and warm wishes for the success of our business.”

  “Her absence will be felt,” said Czarinaea. “But I am sure the business of the court is well attended.”

  She took her seat next to the king, and Lotzar moved toward the prince, sitting in the empty seat to one side of him. Czarinaea could feel the king stiffen, noticeably upset when Lotzar flashed the prince a smile. At the same moment, she felt a sudden movement in her belly. Surely it could not be the child, she thought. No, it was much too soon for that.

  A meal of sweet fruit, cheese and mead was being served, but to the queen it tasted like dirt from a fallowed field, and the queen could only sip the mead. The women sat straight with subtle ears turned to any word that might set things off.

  All went very well until the prince asked, barely able to hide his sarcasm, “Shall I have the same quarters as last time?”