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

  I wiped my hands on my tunic and sprinted toward the wagons.

  Millis protected Paul. But, unlike a soldier or an aristocrat, he’d never studied sword fighting, archery, or even wrestling. His speciality was massages; a useless defence against two armed men.

  He saved Paul’s life. As Paul ran towards his dog, the man on the ground rolled over and stabbed Cerberus. The puppy howled in agony. Then the man stood up and Paul flung himself at him, fists flying. The attacker was so startled, he dropped his sword. Millis saw Paul leave the protection of the wagon, and he came running. Picking up the sword with one hand and pulling Paul to safety with the other, he stabbed the attacker. Not being a swordsman, his blow was poor and deflected off the man's ribs. The second blow managed to stick in the attacker’s arm, putting him out of the fight. However, the second man appeared out of the darkness. I saw him leap forward and thrust his sword at Millis.

  There was a moment when the darkness fooled me. I thought he’d missed Millis completely, because he seemed to touch him with his hand. Then I saw a glint of metal shining from Millis’s back. Paul screamed. Millis staggered.

  When I turned around, Millis was on the ground. The two men began chasing Paul and me toward the woods. My breath was coming in sharp gasps, and I was shaking so badly I could hardly run. Luckily the two men chasing us were wounded, or we would never have made it to the cover of the trees. I plunged into the brambles. I knew where the path was and that helped. The branches and thorns slowed the men. Paul and I scrambled beneath a fallen tree. I knew our hiding place would not last for long. The copse was small and the men, if they were methodical, would soon find us. However, we had no choice. We were unarmed and physically much weaker than them. I peered through the dead leaves and branches and watched as they started to search.

  They were tall, dressed in dark tunics with striped leggings. They had beards, and one wore a helmet. The helmet puzzled me. It had horns, not unlike the helmets I’d seen in the museum exhibits of Viking artefacts. One man was blond, and I narrowed my eyes trying to get a better look at him. Vikings were known to have voyaged nearly everywhere. When Crete fell, mysteriously, a thousand years before this time even, the only clue from the writings said, “the marauders from the sea came and destroyed the cities”. Were they speaking about the Vikings? Everyone feared them. Their savagery was legendary. The Vikings would sail as far as Paris, and conquer all of Normandy, but not for another thousand years. So, what was he doing here?

  Paul huddled against me, trembling, his breath coming in little gasps.

  ‘Hush,’ I breathed. ‘He’s coming this way.’ There was a crunch of dried leaves beneath stealthy feet, and I saw a dark form heading toward us. I shrank back, trying to will myself invisible. If we were captured, we might be spared and sold as slaves. However, I didn’t think I wanted that to happen. I saw the man’s eyes; they were flat and cruel. He seemed to be staring at us. My muscles tensed, preparing to fight. Instead, a sharp cry stopped him in his tracks. His companion looked up at the sky, pointed, and dashed off. The blond man hesitated, then spun around and ran off through the trees. Bare branches clawed at his cloak, and he made a huge racket as he crashed through the undergrowth. He was gone in seconds. I waited until I heard no more noise, then we eased out from under the tree.

  I could hear shouting.

  ‘Ashley!’ It was Nearchus. He came running into the woods.

  ‘We’re here.’

  When he saw us, he cried out in relief. ‘Thank the gods!’

  ‘How is everyone?’ I asked. ‘Who were they?’

  ‘Alexander and Axiom are fine. The raiders were Gauls. But they spoke in a strange tongue.’ I noticed he didn’t mention Millis.

  Alexander ran to us. His was limping, but he still moved with a rapid grace. He grabbed Paul and me and held us tightly. ‘I was so worried about you,’ he gasped.

  His arms and hands were drenched in blood, and a fine spray of crimson covered his torso.

  ‘Are you wounded?’ I gasped.

  ‘No, not a scratch. Axiom has a cut on his leg, and Nearchus lost a finger.’

  Nearchus held up his hand, a bandage swaddled it.

  ‘Has it stopped bleeding?’ I asked.

  ‘I cauterized it,’ he answered. ‘Don’t worry, it was my little finger, and somewhat crooked after I broke it twice.’

  ‘You won’t be breaking it any more,’ Alexander told him grimly. He turned to me and said, ‘Millis is dead.’

  I just stared at him. My face must have been a picture of misery, because he cursed softly and drew me into his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry. I tried to help him. I saw him fall, and I saw you and Paul running, but I couldn’t do anything, I was fighting. Then they just broke and ran.’

  ‘Did he … did he …’ I swallowed hard. ‘Did he suffer?’ I asked, tears blinding me.

  ‘He died quickly. I don’t think he suffered.’

  Paul started to keen. He stumbled toward the fire where Axiom bent over the body of our friend.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Paul said brokenly, kneeling by the dead man’s side. He took Millis’s hand in his and pressed it to his cheek. Then he carefully put it down. He reached out and touched his eyelids, his cheeks, and his lips with his fingertips. ‘Oh Millis,’ he cried, and he put his face in his hands and sobbed.

  We dragged the dead men into the circle of firelight. The Romans had been slaughtered. Businessmen, not fighters, they had succumbed easily. Their slaves had put up more of a fight, but they had been mercilessly cut down. The guards, who were there to defend the precious wine, had been taken by surprise while eating.

  I shed tears for Marcus Quintus. In death he was still darkly handsome; I hoped he was happy, walking around his spirit world right now.

  Alexander believed that the wine was the reason for the attack. Three wagon loads were worth a fortune, and there was a sack of silver coins in a chest. We carefully wrapped the dead in their cloaks and lay them in the largest wagon, their weapons next to them. Alexander took off his own cloak to wrap Millis. His hands shook as he tucked the corners under the body, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Millis’s cold mouth. ‘You saved my son,’ he whispered, ‘and I couldn’t even thank you.’ Tears ran down his cheeks and fell upon the pale face of Darius’s son.

  In death, Millis's perfect features were even more apparent. In the golden, flickering glow of the fire, he looked like a sleeping god; no mortal could be so beautiful. Alexander smoothed Millis’s hair back and then gently pulled the cloak over his face.

  It was like extinguishing a light.

  Cold fury possessed us. Working quickly, we buried the silver. Then we piled wood under the wagon, and then, one by one emptied the amphorae of wine onto the bodies. When the air reeked of alcohol and the space below the wagon was crammed with branches, Alexander lit the pyre with a torch. There was a huge ‘WHOOSH’ as a fireball bloomed in the night. We jumped back, our faces singed. Then Axiom started intoning a prayer. The moon had just started its ascent into the sky, and all the tree branches were cast in silver. It was the sickle moon, the moon of Artemis the huntress, the cold and unmerciful goddess.

  We stood with our heads bowed until Axiom was finished praying, then we put our belongings in packs and tied them to the remaining ponies. We each rode one. Paul rode the smallest pony, with Cerberus carefully cradled on his lap. Somehow the hound had survived being stabbed, and when Axiom finished bandaging him, he seemed better. We carried shields, swords, and Alexander had given Paul a quiver full of arrows.

  ‘If we are attacked run and hide. Shoot only if you think you will hit an enemy and keep your shield at your side at all times.’

  Fatherly advice in ancient Gaul.

  We were not attacked. Either the raiders had lost too many men and were regrouping, or they had given up when they saw the wine being burned. Alexander didn’t spare an amphora.

  Chapter Twelve

  We rode all night and didn’t pause until
late morning. Our ponies were tired. They weren’t the cavalry ponies Alexander had on his campaigns, used to going long distances as fast as they could. After only a couple hours rest, Alexander moved us on. We took no chances and didn’t stop again.

  No other travellers crossed our path. I was starting to feel panicky, surrounded by so much quiet and wilderness. I kept imagining our attackers hiding behind trees. It made me jumpy. We didn’t speak. We were exhausted and fearful. We only paused to water the horses and relieve ourselves.

  Finally, just before nightfall, we saw the flickering lights of a village in the distance. We were just within reach of shelter! The road was little more than a well-worn track through the trees. Clouds moved sullenly across the sky, hiding the wisp of a moon. Our horses plodded onward. Alexander had long ago stopped trying to urge them into a trot. Paul slid sideways, and Axiom caught him just before he fell.

  ‘I’m so tired,’ Paul said.

  I gave him an encouraging smile. ‘We’re almost there.’ To Alexander I said, ‘We have to tell the authorities what happened. Maybe they’ll know who did it.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said, ‘unless there have been other attacks.’

  One thing bothered me. ‘Why didn’t they wait until we fell asleep?’

  ‘Because of the guards,’ said Alexander. ‘They would have been posted around us and more alert for danger. As it was, they were sitting to the side, eating.’

  ‘Still, it seems odd,’ said Axiom. ‘A surprise attack while we were sleeping would have been more efficient.’

  We rode in silence for a while. Then Axiom spoke again. ‘I thought perhaps it was because of the darkness. They attacked well before the moon rose. But it was a sickle moon, and cast no shadows.’ He shook his head.

  Nearchus uttered a startled oath. He reined in so suddenly that his horse staggered and nearly fell.

  ‘What is it?’ cried Alexander, leaning forward.

  ‘What is it?’ I echoed, frightened by the look on Nearchus’s face.

  ‘The moon,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think of it before. But when Axiom mentioned the moon it occurred to me. They attacked before the moon rose because they were afraid the Child of the Moon would be protected by his mother. Don’t you see?’

  ‘No,’ I said dryly. ‘I am the boy’s mother.’

  ‘But Orphics wouldn’t know that.’ He insisted. ‘They must have been looking for Paul. Somehow they know he’s here, with us.’

  ‘Orphics?’ It was Alexander. ‘Where did you hear about them, Nearchus?’

  ‘In Crete, where I grew up. The moon cult is tied with the worship of Orpheus and Dionysus. It is a strange and mysterious sect. They believe that the moon’s child will destroy the earth.’

  Alexander tipped his head back and gave a strangled cry.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, worried.

  He looked at me, his eyes bleak. ‘My mother was an adept of the cult of Dionysus,’ he said harshly. ‘Do you remember what they said in Nysa? “If the moon’s child left the valley, the whole world could be destroyed.” The Orphics predicted that.’

  I sputtered. ‘That’s utter nonsense!’

  ‘It is written in the stars. I don’t know how to read them, but perhaps people here do. They didn’t want the wine. They were searching for the Child of the Moon.’ Nearchus broke off, and we all looked at Paul.

  I sighed. ‘Tomorrow, Paul, we dye your hair black.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  We followed the lights to the village and arrived after everyone had gone to bed. Luckily, the gatekeeper was still awake and said there was room for us in the inn. Well, there was space in the dining room. I shared a bench with Paul. The men slept on their cloaks in front of a small fireplace.

  In the middle of the night, Alexander had one of his nightmares, and woke the entire inn with his terrified yells. We sat up in our blankets, our faces pale with fatigue and shock. The innkeeper and the other guests thought they were being attacked. They stumbled out of their rooms, some clutching weapons.

  Alexander crouched in the middle of the floor, his body covered with a sheen of sweat, his hair practically standing on end. He was shaking, his knees knocking against the wooden floor. Nearchus, murmuring softly, leaned over and draped a blanket over his shoulders.

  When he was fully awake, Alexander apologized. He gave a crooked grin, his eyes huge in his haggard face. Most of the people simply nodded and faded back to their rooms.

  The owner was harder to appease. He started forward with a stern expression, perhaps to tell Alexander to be more careful with his dreams or something. Whatever he wanted to say we would never know, because he stepped on Cerberus who was still sore, and the hound’s screech woke up half the village. The innkeeper’s scream woke the other half, as the dog sank his teeth in the man’s bare calf.

  The innkeeper threw us out after the dog bite, and we ended up spending the rest of the night in the stables. I snuggled down in the straw, bone-weary, and fell straight to sleep.

  Nearchus woke up at dawn. He went to the market to buy dye for Paul’s hair and to hear the latest news. Alexander went to apologize again to the innkeeper and to see how his leg was.

  I slept soundly. Then Alexander was bending over me, his hair tickling my nose, telling me to get up and get ready to leave.

  ‘Can’t I sleep just another hour?’ I moaned.

  Alexander shook his head. He’d been chafing at our slow pace ever since we’d left Massalia, and now he was back in battle mode, fifty kilometres a day at a fast clip. He looked almost happy. I sighed. ‘So much for tourism,’ I said sourly.

  ‘I’m not a very good tourist,’ he said with a glimmer of humour. ‘I get this urge to conquer everything I see. But right now, I just want to get Paul to safety.’

  ‘Do you really believe that they attacked us to take Paul?’ I asked. ‘I mean, we were travelling with a cargo of wine that was worth its weight in solid silver.’

  ‘It was worth more than that,’ said Alexander, ‘but Paul is priceless. Whoever has the moon’s child can control the fate of the world.’

  I stood up and picked straw out of my hair. ‘Can I just wash myself before we set off?’

  Alexander pointed to a stone trough. ‘Hurry up.’

  I eyed the horse’s watering trough with distaste, but I knew it was all I was going to get. I was still bleeding. I had nothing but wet rags left. Alexander saw me staring dismally at my supply. ‘I’ll try and find something for you,’ he said softly and went back into the inn.

  I hoped that the innkeeper would have a sympathetic wife. I hadn’t seen one, but perhaps she was a very deep sleeper.

  I stripped and washed in the icy water. Alexander came back with a handful of clean cotton cloths. The sun came out from behind the clouds. Birds starting singing. Things were looking better.

  And Paul looked fascinating with black hair. Actually it was more of a navy blue. I couldn’t help comparing him to the teenagers of my time, the rebels who slashed scars on their arms and dyed their hair improbable colours. Paul had no scars except one, a crescent moon on his left shoulder. I had no idea where the scar had come from. I wondered if it weren’t a pale, silvery birthmark.

  Alexander stepped back and studied his son with a cocked head. ‘You look like a cousin of mine,’ he said finally.

  ‘Oh? Who was he? Did you know him well?’

  ‘No,’ Alexander shook his head. ‘He lived in Epirus, in my grandfather's kingdom.’ His voice tapered off.

  ‘What is it, Father?’ Paul reached over and took his hand.

  ‘Millis,’ he sighed. We were silent after that. We all missed Millis. Axiom kept turning around, as if he were looking for him. I couldn’t get used to not having him standing next to Paul.

  ‘It was his fate,’ declared Nearchus.

  ‘I can’t believe that his fate was to come all the way to Gaul just to die in the middle of a road,’ I said. My voice broke.

  ‘His fate was to save Paul from
human sacrifice,’ Nearchus said with conviction. We stared at him. He nodded. ‘I went to the marketplace this morning. There is an important moon cult here in Gaul. We should have been more careful. They still have human sacrifices.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ I asked.

  Nearchus shrugged. ‘The shopkeeper.’

  ‘How far are we from Lutetia?’ Axiom straightened up from where he’d been checking our baggage.

  ‘Three days. Two if we hurry,’ Nearchus replied.

  Alexander frowned. ‘We have to get faster horses.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was a stiff wind, but it kept the sky clear. The sun warmed our shoulders. The new horses were fresh, and Alexander managed to push us along quickly. We stopped every three hours to rest and to let the horses graze. When we passed a stream, we watered the horses.

  We first heard the drums while we were standing next to a stream.

  I thought it was a woodpecker. The sound was like that – a fast, sharp tapping. However, Alexander and Nearchus both paused what they were doing and grew still. They didn’t have to speak; we could see they were concerned. We mounted our horses and moved off at a fast trot. Now we didn’t dare stop. Alexander kept us trotting until the sun was so low it was simply a thin, glowing red line on the horizon. Even then he didn’t stop. None of us knew what the drums were saying. We suspected it was some sort of message, and perhaps it was about us. Danger was making us paranoid.

  But, as Alexander succinctly pointed out, ‘Better flee than be outflanked.’

  ‘Is that another one of your Macedonian maxims?’ I asked. ‘One of the ones that would never make it to posterity such as: “the falling rock looks out for no one”; “water doesn’t flow fast uphill”; and “wolves can’t eat the caged goat”?’