Chants to Persephone: The Future of the World Hangs on a Knife's Edge - and Only a Human Sacrifice Can Save It

by Jennifer Macaire

  ‘Really,’ I teased. ‘Instead of flitting like dry leaves in a conventional underground realm ruled by a guy called Hades, his terrible wife Persephone, and a three-headed dog. Quite frankly I can’t understand how they can believe something like that!’

  ‘You’re being sarcastic again.’

  ‘You know, Alex, I come from a place and time where we study religion but nobody believes in it any more. I’m sorry.’ I shrugged.

  ‘Don’t be. It’s not important to me, but be careful how you speak to others. For them, their religions are very powerful.’

  ‘Did you notice that one of the Romans sculpts in clay?’ I asked. Now it was my turn to change the subject. Serious talk about religion made me uneasy.

  ‘I did. He’s doing a study of Nearchus with his new beard. I think he means to use him as a model for Zeus. Zeus! When Nearchus takes himself for Poseidon?’

  We looked at each other and laughed, then went to join the others. Alexander, who was jealous, held on to my arm possessively for the rest of the day.

  Late that afternoon, we arrived in the next village. A high wooden wall surrounded it, and several hairy men stood guard at the gate.

  I hoped they were Gauls. If they were Gallo-Romans they would insist on checking every single scrap of document we carried with us, and if they were Graeco-Gauls they would insist on rewriting the very same documents.

  They were Gauls, so after some strange questions they let us through.

  To me they asked, ‘Where did your hair come from?’ To which I answered, ‘My ancestors.’ I must have hit it right the first time, because they waved me through.

  Nearchus and Paul were blond as well, so they were waved through. Millis was mute, and the Gauls didn’t hold with writing, so they looked suspiciously at the wax tablet he used to communicate with and hurriedly waved him through.

  ‘What’s your dog’s name?’ they asked Axiom.

  ‘He’s not my dog, he’s the boy’s dog.’

  ‘Very well, carry on.’

  They looked at Alexander and asked him, ‘How far can you run?’

  ‘How far can I run? What kind of question is that?’ Alexander frowned. ‘I think I can run pretty far. My legs aren’t the same since I was shot in the calf with an arrow, and my ankle was shattered once. It’s still stiff. My knee was broken. Another arrow I think. No? A lance? Well, you’d probably remember better than me, Axiom. I always fainted when something like that happened.’

  ‘You faint easily,’ said Axiom blandly.

  ‘Ah, you faint?’ The Gaul looked interested. ‘So, you can run far and you faint. Very well, you can enter.’

  We left the Romans at the gate arguing with the Gauls about whether or not a curve in the road was akin to a winding river or a low hill, and at any rate, whether or not they should all be straightened.

  Chapter Ten

  We found a small comfortable inn and settled our horses in the stables. Then we took turns taking a bath in a trough in the yard. It was in plain sight of everyone. As I stripped, a man stuck his head out of the upstairs window and whistled. Alexander looked around for a spear, and I hastily covered myself and shouted at Axiom to take Alexander for a long walk.

  Paul bathed, and so did Nearchus. Alexander came back from his walk, still simmering, and bathed too.

  In the dining area, we sat in front of a roaring fire and ate roasted wild boar. After dinner, Cerberus sprawled at Paul’s feet. Nearchus brought his helmet to the table to polish, and we watched as Nearchus put a mirror-bright shine on his bronze armour.

  ‘This fireplace is great,’ said Paul, holding his hands toward the heat. ‘It’s so big, Daddy could stand up in it and not hit his head on the mantle.’

  ‘Only your father,’ said Nearchus, rubbing hard. ‘A regular-sized man would bang his head.’

  Paul giggled, and Alexander, always touchy about his height, bristled. ‘I’m not short,’ he said.

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ I said, giving him a kiss. ‘You’re average.’

  ‘Maybe in Macedonia, but here in Gaul you’re on the small side,’ said Nearchus, holding his helmet up to the light and admiring it. ‘But don’t feel bad. You’re short and you walk funny, but you’re still a handsome man. The serving woman couldn’t keep her eyes off you.’

  ‘I might be short and walk funny, but Barsine taught me how to throw a javelin.’ Alexander spoke blandly.

  Nearchus glanced at him, a smile flitting across his face. ‘Oh? Did she? When? When she threw one through my tent, or when she was threatening to cut my balls off?’

  ‘And stuff them down your throat,’ agreed Alexander, nodding sagely.

  ‘That sounds like a good story!’ cried Paul, climbing onto his father’s knees. ‘Tell me about it, will you?’ He was getting too big to sit on laps. His legs dangled to the floor, but Alexander wrapped his arms around him and held him fondly.

  ‘Well, Barsine was my first wife. Remember, I told you about her.’

  ‘You said she was very large and good at sports.’

  ‘She certainly was. Well, she was also very jealous, and she didn’t want anyone else to share my bed.’

  ‘She threw Plexis out of the tent one morning,’ I said. ‘She had a fearsome temper.’

  ‘Stop interrupting.’

  ‘Of course, you wouldn’t remember that, you were unconscious. She knocked you out, and you slept for a whole day,’ I added.

  ‘She did?’ He looked at Paul and tousled his bright hair. ‘Well, she told Nearchus that if she ever caught him sneaking around the tent, she’d cut off his balls and stuff them down his throat. To prove it, she threw her javelin right through his tent. She did the same thing to Plexis’s tent. He never mended the holes. He claimed they made a nice breeze.’ He shook his head, smiling. ‘I miss Barsine.’

  ‘Did she die a long time ago?’ asked Paul.

  ‘Oh, years and years ago. I’ve forgotten when, exactly. I’m not very good at dates, I’m afraid. She had a son, your half-brother. His name is Heracles, and he lives with his grandparents. Artabazus is his grandfather.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him,’ said Paul.

  ‘Perhaps someday you will,’ Alexander said. He sighed and looked into the fire. The flickering light cast deep shadows on his face.

  Paul settled his head under his father’s chin and blinked sleepily. His mouth went soft as he relaxed in Alexander’s arms. I caught Nearchus staring at Alexander. His eyes were full of longing.

  I knew that Nearchus was in love with Alexander. He had been for ever, but he’d always stepped back. He’d never tried to take Plexis’s place as Alexander’s best friend. Now Plexis was not with us, and I wondered what Nearchus was thinking. His expression was always serious. His golden hair swallowed the firelight and threw it back in sparks. His hands tightened on his helmet. Then he put it carefully on the table.

  Axiom and Millis were playing dice. The soft click of the bone dice as they rolled onto the wooden table was all we heard, except for the crackle of the fire and a loud scratching as Cerberus worried his fleas.

  My eyes met Nearchus’s. I had always been slightly afraid of the blond admiral, but now I knew him well enough to admire him. He’d never married, following Alexander throughout the years.

  He’d watched as Alexander married Barsine, Stateira, Roxanne, Stateira again, and me. He’d watched as Alexander’s children were born and died. When Alexander was wounded or ill he’d always been there. He was Alexander’s childhood friend; they’d met in Aristotle’s school. He had been born in Crete. He was one of the most intelligent men I’d ever met and had written a fascinating log of our voyage from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. It would still be read nearly three thousand years later. He was the only man who could always beat Usse at chess.

  I wondered if Alexander loved him, and if I were jealous. I had seen them kissing once before, years and years ago. Before Alexander had destroyed Persepolis, and before he’d made peace with Plexis after killing
his brother. Nearchus had always been close, but he’d never made the slightest move toward Alexander. Would he do so now? I frowned. Whatever happened, I had long ago learned never to interfere. Until now, it was because I was terrified I’d somehow change history. Now that we were free from the pitiless gaze of the Time-Institute, I could relax. I looked at Alexander and sighed. Habits are hard to break. I still couldn’t bring myself to interfere.

  I stared at the fire. There is something extremely hypnotizing about flames. I fell asleep with my head on the table.

  Alexander shook me awake. He had Paul in his arms. The boy had fallen asleep as well; his face was pale with fatigue and his arms hung straight down at Alexander’s sides.

  Before we went upstairs to the bedrooms, Axiom had to clean up the puddle of urine that Cerberus had left in the corner. The dog looked sheepish, the innkeeper stood by with his hands on his hips, and Axiom muttered balefully all the time he was scrubbing.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the morning, we set off again with the Romans. The weather took a turn for the worse. I clung to Alexander and took refuge under his cloak. It was definitely warmer huddled together. Alexander was never cold. His body was always toasty, and I felt as if I were next to a heater.

  I looked back and saw Paul talking to Nearchus. Paul had a cloak made of warm wool; he wore that over a linen shirt. None of us had underwear, although I had made some for myself. I wore them on occasion.

  This was one of the occasions, and I was feeling crabby. Alexander hugged me; he was always sympathetic. I had to stop every hour or so and change the primitive feminine napkin I’d invented. I wished, for the thousandth time, there was something disposable I could buy in a shop. However, until then I would have to make do with cotton rags.

  That evening we camped out; the next village was still two days away. The Romans had brought a couple pigs with them, and they slaughtered a small one and grilled it. One thing I had to say about them, they knew how to live.

  We parked the wagons in a circle, built up a huge fire in the middle, and opened an amphora of wine. The smell of the meat as it crackled and sizzled made our mouths water. The wagons were set in a circle for protection, and I caught flashes of metal beneath the men’s cloaks. We were travelling through a savage land now. The Romans posted guards near the pony lines. Even Cerberus was watchful. He kept lifting his head and sniffing the air.

  We ate dinner in companionable conversation about the wine market and the new inventions everyone had seen lately. The Romans wanted to perfect their roads, so they were asking about the blacktop someone had told them about. Alexander explained to them about asphalt. The Romans used it for sealing, but hadn’t used it on roads yet. Alexander had seen blacktop roads on his travels in Persia. He was still interested in the heating system the Romans had in their houses, so they drew diagrams in the dirt and talked about plumbing.

  I had my own problems. I wanted to bathe, and I wanted to change. There was no place to do either. Finally I murmured to Alexander that I’d be right back. There was a bend in the road, and just beyond the pony lines was a copse of trees and a stream. I thought I’d go over there to wash and get ready for bed – ‘bed’ being a pallet made of a cloak and a pile of straw in the back of our wagon.

  I made my way through the darkness toward the trees. Near the pony lines, the guards were sitting on large rocks gnawing on succulent pork ribs. A pile of bones lay at their feet, and a game of dice was temporarily put to the side. I told them I was just going to take a quick wash in the stream, but they barely glanced at me as I passed.

  The horses stomped their hooves and snorted softly as I weaved through them. I couldn’t see very well, as night had fallen. However, I knew that there was a path leading to the stream. I’d taken it earlier when I’d helped Nearchus tie up our ponies and fetch water for them.

  The trees were very close together, and I had to pick my way through a thick hedge of bramble before I made it to a small clearing where a stream glittered in the dark.

  Wintertime meant no nettles, thankfully, and the hedge of brambles hid me from view. There was a nip of frost in the air, and although no ice formed on the rushing stream it was cold enough to make me hurry. I rinsed out the cloths I’d used for my period and stuffed them back in my pouch. I’d hang them on a stick over the embers tonight and hope they dried by morning. My hands were icy cold now. I rubbed them together and squatted down to finish my business. I didn’t want to have to come back into the woods before morning.

  When I was finished, I stripped and washed myself. I felt better when I dressed, but I was upset to see that I’d run out of clean cloths. I’d used the last one. There was one good thing though; I ate fewer calories than in my own time and exercised constantly. My periods tended to be heavy for one day, light for two, then finished.

  Today had been the first day, complete with cramps, crabbiness, and greasy hair. Tomorrow I’d feel better. I tied my pouch around my waist and plucked a twig from my tightly braided hair. I would have to wash it as soon as I arrived at the next town. Well, another nice thing about winter besides no nettles: no lice.

  Faintly, I could hear the men’s voices. They sounded loud, as if they were arguing or laughing. From a distance it was hard to tell. I shrugged and started to push through the trees when I heard a sound I knew well. It was the sharp clang of metal against metal. Then I heard screams. Paul! My breath caught in my throat and I leaped forward. My panic was for my son. I figured Alexander, battle-scarred warrior that he was, could take care of himself. The tree branches clawed at my throat and cloak, hindering me. I broke out of the forest.

  The guards no longer sat on their rocks. They lay in a heap on top of the bones they’d been eating. A dark, steaming puddle spread beneath them. I choked back a cry. Slowly, I eased past them, pulling my dark cloak over my pale hair.

  Orange firelight wavered as shadows crossed in front of it. Fighting was taking place around the fire. The wagons were partially blocking my view. As I drew closer, I could hear the harsh breathing of the men and the clanging of swords.

  I saw Paul huddled underneath one of the wagons, his arms around his dog, and his face a mask of terror. Millis was guarding him, holding a large shield. I was still beyond the edge of light. I bent low, meaning to crawl under the wagon with Paul. However, the sight of five men standing in the road stopped me. They seemed to be waiting to capture anyone foolish enough to try and flee.

  Inside the circle of wagons, Alexander and his men stood back to back, their weapons raised, as figures circled them warily. I could see Alexander, Axiom, and Nearchus. Alexander held his sword with a casualness that was deceptive. It was bright red, and blood ran down the blade and dripped off his hand. Nearchus wore his helmet and held a sword and a shield. Axiom held a sword and a lance. I couldn’t see the Romans. On the ground lay at least ten bodies. Some were writhing, and others were still. I caught sight of Marcus Quintus’s dark hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  There were still five men circling Alexander, Axiom, and Nearchus. However, they looked decidedly wary. None of them dared get within reach of Alexander’s blade. They’d already picked Axiom and Millis as the weak links, but Axiom was armed with a long lance, so they had to keep their distance.

  I took stock of the situation. The men inside the circle didn’t worry me too much. The men outside worried me. Perhaps Alexander didn’t realize they were there. I tried to think of a way to alert him and glanced once more towards my son. He was hiding under the wagon directly behind Millis. Paul was in front of me, the men on the road off to my right, and at my back was the pony line.

  The horses were standing stiffly at the end of their tethers. Their eyes rolled in their heads and their nostrils flared as they snorted nervously. They weren’t used to battle. One broke free. He leapt backward and spun around, galloping madly down the road. Frightened by the sounds of fighting and the overpowering smell of hot blood, he headed home.

  The five men ju
mped out of the horse’s way and looked towards me, but I had hidden behind a pony. They didn’t bother to investigate. They stayed grouped together in the middle of the road. That gave me an idea. Hurriedly, I tied the next two ponies together. I set them free and watched as they streaked toward the men. They saw the ponies coming. However, they didn’t see the rope dangling between them. The ponies galloped on each side of the road. As the road was narrow, the men grouped quickly in the middle to avoid being run over. The rope mowed them down. One man was caught under the chin, and I heard his neck break. The others were luckier; they were lifted off their feet and thrown backward. The noise they made caused Alexander to spin around and peer into the darkness.

  Now that there was no more possibility of surprise, the men fighting Alexander tried to finish their job quickly. They thought to take advantage of Alexander’s apparent distraction, but he was never distracted. As the man on his left jumped toward him, Alexander parried with his sword, and Nearchus ran him through with a mighty thrust.

  The four remaining men on the road staggered to their feet. They were armed with swords, so I didn’t dare approach. They separated. Three stayed where they were and one came towards me to investigate.

  As I looked for a weapon, another horse pulled loose and galloped away. The men scattered, but not quickly enough. The frightened horse struck one of the men a glancing blow. The man stumbled and fell, landing near the wagon. He saw Paul and gave a triumphant yell. He reached toward the boy. Suddenly, a dark shape surged out from under the wagon. Cerberus. The puppy flung himself on the man, growling and snapping. I heard Paul’s frightened cry and thought I would faint.

  ‘No!’ yelled Paul, scrambling out from under the wagons, his arms outspread. ‘Don’t hurt my dog!’

  I choked back a cry of my own. The fighting intensified. The man heading toward me wavered then turned to see what the yelling was about. He had his back to me, so I didn’t hesitate. I had a large rock in my hand. I’d read enough of The Iliad to know how handy those things could be. I rushed over to him and smashed the rock on the back of his head. He dropped to the ground and I bashed him again. He made a strange noise and grabbed at me, but his hand only brushed my sleeve before it fell to his side. He shuddered once and grew still. I thought I’d vomit. I clenched my teeth together. Then Paul screamed.