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

by Rane, April

  “Lotzar will show you to your quarters.” Czarinaea put in rather quickly. “We hope you find them to your liking.”

  “But first, my dear, the prince and I have some business to attend,” the king said brusquely. “If you will follow me,” he said to Stryangaeus, “we will get the matters of court out of the way so that you may enjoy your stay. Give instructions to Ludeaus here,” he said, pointing to one of the councilmen. “As to your desires for entertainment, riding, hunting, or any other sport, you need only let him know.”

  It took all of the king’s control to be civil. He will not get Lotzar if that is his desire, thought the king. Perhaps I will find him one with the wasting sickness. Ha! Or…

  The king glanced at the aides that followed the prince. They were weighed down by the amount of coin and jewels they carried. This stilled any further thought of him lashing out. Half of the dowry was his. The rest went to the council to be divided how they saw fit, and one tenth went to the groom. The groom, however, would have a chance to speak to the council of needs he might have above the amount he would receive. Perhaps if he was a really good speaker or dazzled them with a sweet song, he would receive another ten percent of the original amount. It was all part of the festivities before the wedding.

  The king was developing an obsession with Lotzar. Though his wife was by far more beautiful and raised his lust much quicker, it was up to him not to jeopardize the delivery of a healthy son. Many women flung themselves at him but that took the sport out of it. He liked the challenge of what he could not have. Wanting to learn every detail of Lotzar’s movements, he set men and women in the court to spy on her, and especially to report what the two women might secretly devise. The servants were given strict orders to let him know immediately if Lotzar went to Stryangaeus.

  “My lord, two nights hence she is to go to his room,” stuttered one of his lackeys the very next day. “It was organized so… for you will be on your rounds visiting your…the outlying clan.”

  “But why keep it a secret?” Marmareus demanded. “Why would she care? She has done it before in the open?”

  “I did not know ’bout the before, me Lord,” the small wizened figure shriveled all the more into himself. “I am sorry. I am sorry to be so bold, but she is your wife, would… would not the fear be of that?”

  “My wife? My wife! What is it you’re about man? How is it you accuse my wife?” shouted the king.

  “No, no, milord, I daren’t accuse your good wife,” said the peon while crushing his hat in his hand, and slowly backing away. “No accusation, just repeating what has taken place in the time since the sun came up this morn. I’ll be on my way now. Please… there is no reward for doing this work, happy to be of service to my king.”

  Marmareus’ anger rose in waves. All that he had suspected when Czarinaea had been captured came back to him. The king’s face turned brilliant red and his body began to shake violently as he let out a howl like that of a wounded animal.

  Hearing a bellowing roar from the front of the house, Czarinaea came up out of her chair. Next to her, Lotzar covered her mouth to stifle a scream. Instinctively Czarinaea touched her knife that rested in a specially made pouch at the small of her back.

  “He knows,” both women said in unison, both terrified, one because she knew what he was capable of, and the other because she did not know. Czarinaea felt fear for her lover and her unborn child, but relief that she did not have to live a lie any longer.

  The king rounded the doorway with club in hand and reached for his knife. “I will kill you,” he told Czarinaea. “As sure as I married you, I will kill you. I will not only kill you, I will gut you, for that is not my child! Speak woman, for it will be the last chance you have to do so.”

  Czarinaea stood her ground and said nothing, while slowly taking her knife from its sheath. Lotzar was so frightened for her friend that she cried out, and for the first time the king noticed her.

  “Aha! It is two strumpets I corner like rats. How convenient for me. I do not have to look under Prince Stryangaeus to find one of you, and the other doing her bidding! The choice is difficult. Which one do I kill first?”

  As Lotzar shot out of her chair to protect her friend, he caught her roughly and slit her throat, flinging her body at Czarinaea.

  “Your servant!” he said viciously, savaging the air with his dagger. “Indeed your friend, pity that! You’ll have no one to scheme with. Well, no time anyway. Do you not want to pray to your Goddess? Your lover does not have a chance. I will challenge him to fight me and then I will see to it that the toast before the match is laced with poison. I want to see his eyes when he realizes what I’ve done. Then he will know he is not the only one that can be devious.”

  Marmareus lurched dangerously close to Czarinaea, and noticing the knife she held, shifted his weight from side to side, sizing her up.

  “So you see the lot of you will be dead and I will cheer and dance around your funeral pyre,” he shouted. “I will piss on your mound and bring all my bastard children to do the same. I will tell them how I cut out your child and watched you slowly die.”

  They were circling, knocking furniture out of the way slowly edging closer to each other. Czarinaea noticed a lantern hanging above her that she knew would hold her weight. “Keep your wits and move forward,” she heard her mother’s words in her mind. Slowly and steadily she placed her knife back in its pouch, confusing Marmareus, who hesitantly took another step forward. But in his uncertainty, his weight shifted and it was all she needed.

  Jumping for the lantern, she swung toward him, kicking the knife out of his hand with her right foot and hitting him squarely with her left, splintering the bones in his face. Continuing to use the lantern for leverage, she pushed herself off his body, and then slammed back into him, wrapping her muscular legs around his neck. When she let go of the lantern, they both fell heavily to the floor. Her weight atop him and her legs in a strangle hold served to weaken him. Blindly swinging the club, the king lanced a blow on the side of her head and slamming his knee into her rib cage, knocked the wind out of her. Czarinaea knew that if she did not do something quickly he would have the advantage. Grabbing her dagger in her right hand, and clutching the hair of his head with her left, she plunged the knife into his jugular vein, holding his head fast till it was over. Trembling, she rose to her feet. The blood drenched knife dropped from her hand to the floor as she stood transfixed.

  A vision of him in a past life blurred her sight. ‘The Lion,” they called him. He had been an ugly, mean spirited man who hated women. Falsely imprisoning her, he had ordered that she be hanged? Hate that she had felt for him in the other lifetime boiled up and out of her, and as she looked at the blood on her hands she said, “It is done! So be it!”

  Hearing movement at the door, she struck a warrior’s pose ready for attack, but it was the shield maker, and the old servant that she had befriended. Both bowed low to the floor and cried,

  “Victory to the queen! Long live the queen!”

  And then, going to Lotzar, they turned her body over, tears pouring from their eyes.

  “She will be sorely missed,” the old man said.

  The shield maker who was very liked and respected in the city put his hand on Czarinaea’s arm in a loving way and said, “I saw the king going mad. He has always been unpredictable. My word will hold great meaning. It is a shame he drove you to that. But there is great love for you here. The people will be glad to have such a brave queen, let us…”

  He broke off as Czarinaea clutched her belly. Her face turned ashen and she swayed, nearly losing her balance, blood pooling beneath her.

  “Queen Czarinaea,” they yelled in unison, “you are hurt.”

  “Get the midwife,” she gasped. “My child is coming. Hurry!”

  The shield maker ran out in search of the midwife, and the old man helped Czarinaea to her room. Both thought it was too late for the babe, but the old man prayed that they would not lose their queen.
<
br />   “My queen, when the shield maker comes back with Diana, the midwife, I will go along to the head councilman. His feelings for you are…” He hesitated for he could not insult her by saying the councilman was enamored of her.

  Czarinaea said, “Yes, Mareus will be the best one, and then he can break the news to the rest. I will close my eyes for a bit now.”

  Seeing how weak she was, he closed his eyes and beseeched the Goddess Tabitha, of hearth and home. “This is a good woman and she will lead us well. Take her not, for our people need a strong and just leader.”

  When Diana entered, bustling and calling out orders, she rushed to the queen’s side. Alarmed at the ashen skin of her charge and the unnatural amount of blood, she hastened into action. Opening her tattered bag of herbs, she prayed to Tabitha to save the queen, as it was obvious it was too late for the child.

  When the shield maker returned again, he brought with him a party of men that could be trusted, men that were very much in favor of the queen. All were happy to know that she was still alive. One of the men went to call out the graves-man who would see to the body of Lotzar and prepare her for burial. The council of course would need to make the elaborate plans for the king.

  After examining the room where the killings had taken place, and talking with the shield maker and the old servant, the councilmen concluded that, despite Czarinaea’s beauty, the king had been determined to have Lotzar, and she had flown into a temper to protect herself. But the king would not take no for an answer, and he killed her in a fit of anger.

  When confronted by his wife, his anger turned to blind rage and the queen had to kill him in self-defense. They were also aware that there was a faction that would not care and would want Queen Czarinaea’s head, but luckily they were few.

  The councilmen decided to put the word out that the queen was under strict orders of the midwife, whom they could easily bribe if necessary, to stay abed else the babe might be lost, knowing that if it were put about that she was still with child, no member of the clan would kill her.

  Once the crisis was over, Diana went to the bedroom door and asked, “Who is in charge?” to which there was such a universal response from the councilmen that she murmured, “Whenever a bit of power is at stake, insanity is to be expected.

  “Well you’ll nor enter till one decides who’s in charge,” Diana said, crossing her arms in front of her ample chest, “for the lot of you is far too many for her now. So we be in want of some kind of vote, or perhaps I could send the house boy to the barn for straw, so that the lot of you could draw for a turn!”

  Hearing this, Mareus stepped up to her and said, “Of course it will be me as head councilman, but my brother Vareus has just arrived. He has a sharp mind for tactics. I need him at my side. We need to protect the queen!”

  “If that is what you’re up to, enter!” Diana said, knowing that the queen could use the least bit of friendship. “For, in truth, she has lost the one closest to her, then her babe in the bargain.”

  “We must speak to you about that, please,” Mareus said. He was joined by two others who explained that it was not time yet to speak of the queen losing the child. It was for her protection.

  The mid-wife nodded in agreement. “Tis no problem bout my speaking,” she told them, “since most think I’m off of it anyway, and the rest think I will put a curse on them. Others care not what I do, as long as I attend their wives when the babe comes. There is something to be said in getting old and having many secrets. Take my word on it.”

  Unlike most of the other servants, she brazenly looked them all in the eye as she barked out her orders for the queen she was possessively tending.

  “Now as to my charge,” she announced, “the queen is not to be disturbed! I have stemmed the flow of blood, but she need stay in the position I have set her in for a time yet. You may talk but do nor fret her, for she is still very weak. You must take the burden from her mantel if you want her to survive. A feeling of protection must come from the lot of you. Only then she may indeed get well. She is filled with honor and integrity and her will is like iron, but right now she is in need of the care that only I can give her.”

  And not content to leave it there, she stepped into the hallway, and looking every man in the eye, declared, “She may be full of moral integrity, but I am not. See to it that she comes to no harm or you shall know why the townsfolk refer to me as a witch.”

  Stryangaeus unable to visit with Czarinaea, and finding himself bored, had gone on a two day hunting trip. Upon his returned he found the Scythian Court in an uproar, and although no one would satisfy his questions as to what happened, he knew for certain there had been a death, since on his way back into the city, he had seen a huge burial mound beyond the gate. Furthermore, he had heard some lackeys talking. “He attacked both of them he did,” one of them had said, “and I don’t know as you could blame him. She was his and he didn’t want her showing her wares elsewhere. Ta’shame though, she was a pretty piece.”

  Concerned by what he’d heard, Prince Stryangaeus jumped down from his horse and ran quickly toward the entrance of the king’s manor. His heart was pounding and he could not keep himself from calling out Czarinaea’s name. Finally when a serving girl appeared, he grabbed her and said, “Is she dead? Just tell me is she dead?”

  “Why yes Sir, sorry Sir, she is.” She told him. And not knowing that she spoke of Lotzar, the prince’s eyes clouded over, his shoulders dropped, and he moved woodenly to his room where, sitting on a hard stool near the window, he watched for hours as the dusky day turned into a strange and dismal sunset.

  Only when the maid came to ask if he would sup alone, did he rouse himself. Seeing tears running down her cheeks, he asked why she wept.

  “What will happen to me now, with my master dead and gone,” she cried?

  It took a moment for him to hear what she had said. “Did you say master? Do you mean the king?”

  “Yes milord, I thought you knew. Everyone knows the king is dead.” And with that she started openly bawling. Stryangaeus knew he had to soothe her to hear more of what had transpired. But as she began to speak her tale meandered about. Finally becoming very impatient, he interrupted the young maid. “Tell me of the queen!” he demanded.

  “Don’t know milord,” she told him. “They be keeping us out, like we would be in the way. The mid-wife is with her is all I know.”

  “Show me, show me her room!” he demanded.

  “No, no I daren’t go there,” she sniffled. “There are men watching and councilmen in and out and the mid-wife’s a fearsome sort!”

  “I will protect you,” he told her. “”Just tell me where she is! I must go to see about matters of Court.”

  Stryangaeus stood tall as he approached the two guards standing on either side of her door.

  “I see you’re in charge here,” he said boldly. “Call out one of the councilmen so that we may discuss the matters of royal significance.”

  “None but the mid-wife attends her now,” one guard replied.

  “And that is as it should be,” the prince replied. “However, I wish to offer my services to your good queen and my condolences as to the king.”

  With that the guard knocked firmly upon the door, and Diana, stepping out into the hall, indicated that he should follow her so that they could speak in private.

  “T`is time you showed your face,” she chided him. “She has been asking for you all day.

  I could not bring you here without bringing undue attention to a bad situation, so I have been waiting.”

  “My dear, blessed lady, I was under the impression since mid-day that the queen was dead. Please assure me again this is not so. It is so good to hear it, for today seemed an eternity. Since the sun rose and set this day it seemed as if all life ceased. I must know how this situation came about and most of all how she is. Please take pity on me and tell all that you know.”

  “T`is sure the queen would want you to know the truth,” she said. “Poo
r lady. She frets and is frightened so for your life. There are a couple of warriors that would kill you just with the thought that you stole a glance at the queen, for they are loyal to the king and his death only makes them more so. Come, let us have a seat here by the window and I will inform you as to the queen’s wishes.”

  “I must see her,” the prince said when he had heard all. “How can we arrange this? I am not concerned for my safety but I wish nor to put her in harm’s way.”

  “It will not be easy right now,” she told him. “I will think upon it and speak to the queen. We will put our heads together and come upon a way to bring this about. I know that just an audience with her will not bring about the healing that is required. Time is needed for two hearts to speak to each other.”

  He bowed deeply to her. “Blessed lady, I thank you.”

  “I easily observe what the queen sees in you,” she told him, blushing. “Make it your business to have no one else know of your feelings for the queen, because it could mean death for the both of you. I believe in a short time that will change, but for now it is best!”

  As he walked away, he contemplated death, seeming right now, so much the easier way than to face a life without her love. How has this come about? he pondered. He believed that it was true, as some said, that there is only one time you truly give your heart, one person that fills you so completely on the joining, that all others seem like empty vessels. Some never find it, and they search hundreds of faces and beds looking for this love. But then again love is just a word, for when he and she were together there was no need to speak of it. It was so profound, it was in every look and every move and every smile.

  Finding himself back in his room, he succumbed to the lure of sleep and lay, wrapped in skins, for many hours, after which he spent three long days pacing his room. He found when he asked about the queen the answer was always the same.

  “She is mending well.”

  But that was not enough for him. He wanted to touch her, to ease her pain, to lay his hands on her wounds and heal them with the force of his love.