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

by Rane, April

  Finally, the midwife, lamp in hand, knocked on his door, and coming inside, wreathed in shadows, said that he did not look well.

  “I am well enough,” he told her, “but my heart shows in my face and my heart is torn and ravaged. I have brought such agony to her. If I could go back, I would love her from afar. I would never knowingly hurt her because she is my life.”

  “Sir, perhaps you would think it is not my place to speak, but you would be wrong on that account,” she told him. “What I am going to say will sound fantastic, and perhaps a bit insane. But Czarinaea tells me you grew up with a mother that was obviously a seer. She tells me also that you believe that you have lived before and will live again when this life is done.”

  “Yes, that is so. Please do not tell me she is dying, please…”

  “No, that is not at all what I have to say. She is going to be just fine.”

  The tension in his shoulders released and a smile lit his handsome face.

  “Then tell me anything, and I will listen from my heart.”

  “Yes, I believe you will,” she said, settling her bulk on a bench and leaning toward him. “More than two hundred years ago, in another lifetime, I was the mother of Czarinaea. In that life I sent her on an important mission. I have come to realize that both of us have much to learn from this experience. It is not for her to know in this life that I have before been her mother. For now it is only important that she listen to the guidance that she receives from her friends. And also that she continues to count on her unseen friends, those that have come to her in dreams and visions.”

  As she spoke, the mid-wife took on a younger appearance, and her eyes became radiant points of light. Startled, the prince heard music as her voice took on a hypnotic rhythm.

  “You have been together before,” she told him. “Czarinaea and you have been lovers in another life. You are flames of an eternal fire, twin peaks of light. When you meet it matters not what the mind wants, but what the flame desires. Twin flames, I call it, for there seems to be no other explanation for the fiery nature of the love, lust and commitment that rages between these two when they come together.

  “Ah yes, it shakes up lives,” she continued, “But there is also something wonderful that happens… something that touches those around them. There is such a power in this kind of love. It moves in waves out from the lovers like a pebble disturbing a pond, as it weaves its message into circles of forever. It will become stronger in each life.”

  Seeing astonishment and yet hope in his eyes, she added, “Yes, you will meet again in the next life.”

  “My lady, what you say makes so much sense.”

  “Call me Diana,” the mid-wife said, and gently took his hand and went on with her story.

  “To come together fearlessly is to open to the will of the Goddess,” she told him. “It is she that knows the why of it. It is not for us to know. Walk with Czarinaea through the garden of this love and see its beauty. Do not look at the devastation. But know that chaos is the handiwork of the Goddess setting things right. It is what you learn in each lifetime that is important. It is that…that you take into the next life. No matter how brief the span of time you are together, much can be learned.”

  When Stryangaeus looked up the mid-wife was gone, although he had no memory of her leaving. The words ‘setting things right’ kept going through his mind. He knew that there was a grand plan working here. He could feel it! It was like a gossamer web around him when he became very quiet. It had its own energy and seemed to pull and tug. It did not frighten him, but amazed him.

  “Yes,” he said out loud as he went back to the very beginning, “I felt it, but did not understand.”

  Hearing footsteps outside his door, Stryangaeus thought perhaps the mid-wife had returned. He went to open it and a dark clad figure ran down the hall. Spies, he thought. Indeed, he was in a very precarious position.

  On the morning that the warriors and council held the service for the dead king, the first before his body left for its forty day precession through the out-lying areas so that his people could pay their respects, Czarinaea was too ‘ill’ to attend. Of course being a Mede, Stryangaeus had not been invited, so with everyone at the ceremony, Diana secreted him into her lady’s chamber.

  Czarinaea’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle her squeal of delight before she leapt into her lover’s arms, the merging so sweet she found it hard to draw back. But feeling his ribs created concern.

  “How long is it since you have eaten?”

  “No, no food,” said Stryangaeus, “I can nor eat. I needed to see you, to hold you, to know that you were alright.”

  “Diana,” Czarinaea spoke with concern in her voice, “would you fetch mead, fruit and cheese, oh…and some meat, he will eat, I will see to it!”

  The sadness that they felt for each other’s pain flooded the room. Their bodies seeking relief from the sorrow, merged. No words were spoken.

  Time shattered, shards of it piercing their weary souls as they clung to each other. Flames of desire reaching heights and depths of their passion that had not been reached before.

  The mid-wife had come and gone. Czarinaea had happily fed her lover as they laughed over his forgetting to eat, and yet the insatiable appetite they each had for the other.

  In the early morning hours, the prince, holding her gently and stroking her hair, began to explain his plans for the future.

  “I’m going to abdicate my title as prince. It is one given me reluctantly by the king due to the wishes of the people. Then I will cede my rights over to the half- brother of my wife,” he told her. “I know that we have agreed upon peace, and I know also that this will bring war again. The King of the Medes will not take lightly to my deserting his daughter.”

  Alarmed by his words, she awakened fully, sitting bolt upright.

  He begged her for silence with his eyes and lips.

  “No, absolutely not!” she exclaimed. “You must not abdicate!”

  “He has paid me handsomely to take her hand in marriage,” he continued, having to look away from her piercing eyes, “Most of the dowry is still intact. I will offer it to him and say also that it is possible that I cannot father a child. Perhaps this will still some of his anger. His daughter will tell him that for the last many months I have not come to her bed. Mayhap that news will help, and perhaps after a good deal of time your people will accept me.”

  Once again, Czarinaea tried to speak, but he pressed his finger gently against her lips and proceeded in a rush, as if he did not do so, the words would not be said.

  “The peasants know of our love and seem to applaud it. I think many of your warriors respect me, and it is possible that after a time we could marry.”

  The prince experienced tightness in his chest, and his face and lips felt numb. Diana was right, he told himself, he must not look for devastation, for they did indeed need to love and laugh together, whatever the future held.

  “Let neither of us speak of it now,” she said fighting tears. “You have spoken your heart to me. To all that you have said, my heart says yes. But there are many considerations. For now we are together. We so need to feel the love that has shaken both of our worlds. We need to relax, play in the sun and share time together. Preparing for this marriage between our people gives us a reason to meet. Then we will speak of the future.”

  Czarinaea called a meeting of the council by sending word that they would break their fast together in the meeting room the next day. She also asked the head councilman Mareus to have thirty warriors that he trusted attend. It was an unusual request but he was happy that she was well.

  Czarinaea knew that there were only a couple of councilmen and a small fraction of warriors of importance that were ready for her head. She had been very good to the staff and to all of the warriors and now she reaped the rewards by knowing what was going on in the locale. She knew, too, that she had no fear of death, which gave her an edge in this game. And a game it was! There might be warrio
rs that would want her position. They would want to fight her for the title, and many would look at the larder of the king with greed. If that was what they had in mind, so be it. Her feeling sense told her otherwise, so she decided to keep her wits and move forward as her mother had taught her.

  Loud voices rang out as she moved gracefully toward the meeting room.

  “How say yea?” shouted Appotheus one of the councilmen as he pounded heavily on the table. “This one who claims to be queen has committed treason, and came upon her title by killing our good king.”

  A very small number agreed with him. The rest came to their feet vehemently claiming Czarinaea their queen, just as she quietly took the seat that up until that time had belonged to the king.

  Her elegance and poise could not be denied, and aware of her quiet demeanor, each man turned, in rapt attention to the proud woman sitting before them.

  “I sit at the head of this table not because I have killed the king to have this seat, but because he chose me as his queen, for I carry the Royal lineage. He chose me also because of my skills as a warrior. Your king did not pick lightly, for he had many a dalliance, but waited until he was seasoned in knowing what he wanted in a queen, and then he chose me.”

  Pointedly, she looked around at each man at the table, and then looking behind the councilmen to the warriors that filled the room, she began to speak again.

  “I have schooled many of you in the art of riding and the skills of battle,” she continued. “Some of you have mentioned that my strategy skills are lacking. Though I do not believe that, I do know that is why kings and queens have a council, to organize and to help them with strategy in warfare.”

  At that, the councilmen sat straighter in their seats and the warriors seemed to lean forward.

  “I know that we have among us talented organizers and great strategists,” she told them. “And surely you have all noticed that I am quick to learn. I have not yet needed to lead a battle, but I know that I can. Just as I know that our clan and our holdings will grow with our strategy and our wits. I am a warrior, yet at the same time I wish peace for our clan. I wish to look out at meetings like this and see many a happy and prosperous Scythian.”

  Czarinaea hesitated, looking at the faces of each of the men at the table, and nodded to the warriors that stood leaning on the wall, some holding their short-bows.

  Rising, she proclaimed, “I did not come here to kill your king! I came to be wife and warrior. And that I did! You know the circumstances that brought about the king’s death! You have heard honest and decent men tell you of the day that has changed all of our lives. I stand before you, not as a woman but a warrior and your queen.”

  Drawing her sword, she laid it on the table before her. “I claim title!” she cried. “I am an Emetchi by birth, but I claim title to the Scythian Queen-ship because I choose to live and die as a Scythian… be it sooner or later! And I claim title because it is my right!”

  She gave them a moment to think before she continued.

  “So,” she went on, looking again at each councilman in turn. “The title is mine or you put me to death and carry me back to my homeland and set my body beside my beloved grandmother who had a vision when I was born. The vision told her that I would lead a great people, and that I would die a good distance from my homeland. Shall we set her vision in motion, or is it my head you want? I will wait upon your decision. But I will wait here as you take your vote. I want to look into the eyes of my accusers and see those who would choose vengeance… over greatness.”

  The silence in the room was thick. No one moved or uttered a sound for a few moments until Mareus finally spoke.

  “We shall take a vote,” he declared. “I vote that Czarinaea remain our queen, for I have seen nothing but honorable action on her part. Who will move to vote with me?”

  Pandemonium broke out as a great many shouted, “Long live the queen. Long live the queen!”

  When the vote was tallied, there was not one in open opposition.

  As she walked away from the meeting room, Czarinaea’s face was a mask held in place by will alone. The few people to whom she stoically nodded on her way seemed puzzled by her demeanor, and did not try to engage her in conversation.

  Her experience of seeing mists of color around all the men in the meeting threatened her sanity. What took her attention the most was that while seeing the colors, she also seemed to be getting information about their thoughts, their honesty or lack of it, and of the fears that seemed to plague them. The information helped her, for as she spoke to them, she narrowed in on the areas of worry for many of the men. But none the less, it was overwhelming. Arriving at her door, she told the guards they could leave.

  “I have just come from the council meeting and seeing as I still have my head, then I must officially be your queen,” she rebuked them when they seemed confused. “So it is not a request! You are good warriors. Thank you for taking care of my safety. Go and join your friends for there is now no need of your services at my door. I am well and can take care of myself.”

  The guards bowed low and backed away, crying out in unison, “Long live the queen.”

  Czarinaea knew they were genuinely overjoyed at the outcome. She had always treated them with respect and she knew they were loyal. Both happily joined the celebration that was forming in the streets. Bakers, artisans and warriors alike were singing praises to their new leader. There would be many times during the long night of celebrating that she would have to show herself and throw gold to the crowd. Otherwise they would enter the court and carry her outside on their shoulders.

  As she entered her room, she listened as the revelers welcomed the guards that she had just dismissed and then, seeing Stryangaeus at her door, flew into his arms. Freely sharing with him all that had happened, the council meeting, and the colors she had seen around the men, the thoughts she had picked up on, and the feeling of pride as she truly understood what it was to be a queen. And of course the elation that she would never again have to be wife to Marmareus.

  “Come lie with me and tell me more about the colors you observed around the men, for something seems to be bothering you about it,” he told her.

  “Though knowing their thoughts helped me with choosing my words, for I truly believe I averted an argument between the men by knowing which fears to address, I know not what it means,” she said, taking his hand. “I used to see pink around my sister and sometimes I would see color around flowers or trees, but not like this. Do you think there is something wrong? I have received two severe blows to the head. Could there be something wrong with my vision?”

  Stryangaeus was mesmerized by the golden sparks in her eyes and knowing how important this was to her, he silently asked guidance of his mother and he repeated what he heard.

  “Some people are born with the ability to see auras. Some come to it because of great reverence to the Goddess, or meeting a lover that opens their heart. Trauma to the body or soul can also be the catalyst to open the prophetic eye. Fear not. Let the colors guide you. Study what you know about a person and what color they are. In that manner you will know a stranger’s intent by his color. You will be able to tell if a person is angry, even when they say they are not. Most importantly, you will be able to tell who is truthful and who lies.”

  “You seemed entranced just now, changed in some way,” Czarinaea said when he offered her the advice he had received. “Though I liked what you said, where did it come from?”

  “I am just as surprised as you,” he told her. “I asked my mother to guide me and I guess she did. Perhaps we can ask another time for more information. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, very much, but I have other things on my mind right now.”

  His sensual smile let her know that he was thinking exactly as she was.

  “And so my queen… what now?” he asked as she removed her tunic.

  “I will entertain you in style!” she replied. “We will plan the royal marriage that has been disc
ussed to bring peace to our people.”

  “But what of you and me…”

  “It is not time to talk of it yet. We are to laugh and play, for surely we deserve some happiness just as the next person does. There is always time for duty. Now my prince, it is time for this.”

  And then, as the crowd outside celebrated her victory, she celebrated her womanhood. Each time the crowd called her to the window, she came back to bed more exhilarated, and passion would renew itself, until finally the crowd became tired and the prince laughingly begged for mercy.

  Their days were filled with laughter. They swam naked and rode like the wind. When they raced she would beat him every time. He loved her spirit, her smile, her body and her heart. They filled each other’s senses, and the love in their hearts overflowed to all who came into contact with them.

  There was no hiding their love. It was just a matter of time before she would need to make a choice. She sensed this, and also knew that the choice of her heart, though the one she wished to follow, would not be the path the Goddess had chosen for her.

  The royal wedding would happen in a few short months. For now, they had reason to put their heads together. Propriety would or could not dictate differently. The council seemed only concerned that there were many plans to put in motion. Preparation for these events accounted for the many meetings and numerous encounters that they had enjoyed.

  Czarinaea stopped abruptly as they were walking a forest path. When Stryangaeus asked what was wrong, she put her hand up to quiet him. She continued standing there until an eagle took flight from a nearby tree.

  “I could see her aura,” she said excitedly. “She is going to be having young soon. I knew that from her colors. I mean, it’s hard to explain. I don’t just see the color. I get information too, just like your mother said through you the other day. I had a dream last night. My spirit guide showed me the waterfall I built when I was young. She did not say anything in the dream, I guess because years ago I told her never to talk to me again. But the water fall spoke to me. Oh, I would never tell this to anyone else! Do you think I am crazy?”