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

  ‘Yes, please.’ Selena wouldn’t look at me. She and her brother stood awkwardly in the doorway.

  I was glad when Axiom came to my rescue, taking their cloaks. I hastily found two clean bowls and filled them with the broth that was always simmering in the iron soup pot in the wintertime. My hands were shaking badly, but I managed to serve the soup and not spill any.

  Alexander came over and sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. It made me feel better. I hadn’t had time to talk to anyone so far. Neither to Paul, who was still as pale as chalk, nor to Nearchus, who avoided looking at me as assiduously as I was avoiding looking at Selena.

  The whole situation was getting uncomfortable and out of hand. Something had to be done. I took a few minutes to talk sternly to myself. Strangely enough, whenever I did this, it was my mother’s voice I heard. ‘Ashley! Sit up straight! Get hold of yourself! Stop snivelling! Stop running away from your problems! You’ll never get anywhere, mark my words. You always get into the worst trouble. What am I going to do with you? You’re such a failure!’ My mother’s voice had always grated in my ears.

  Yet, as cold and unfriendly as her voice was, her eyes had been worse. Mine were warm and inviting compared to hers. A journalist had once written about her in these terms:

  “Mrs. Vladimir de Fontanov went to the charity ball wearing a floor-length gown made of pure-white silk, a tiara with five hundred carats of diamonds, and a platinum and aquamarine necklace. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of a freezer, and if she had, it probably warmed up after she left!”

  My mother called her old friend, the owner of the newspaper, and had the journalist sacrificed on her own personal altar. She despised journalists even more than she scorned rock stars, drug addicts, homosexuals and failures. She was sure I was going to turn out to be a failure, no matter what I did, so she married me to an older, brutal man when I was barely out of childhood. My childhood had been miserable, my marriage a torture. But the thought that my mother was three thousand years away from even being conceived, calmed me. I had not turned into a failure. I had become a journalist. I would get over this.

  When the soup was done, and some colour had come back into their cheeks, Selena and Yovanix put their bowls down and turned to me.

  ‘We have come to ask a favour of you, My Lady,’ said Selena, studying her hands.

  ‘Selena?’ I wished my voice were stronger. I frowned and tried again. ‘Selena, please look at me. I’m glad you came, I wanted to speak to you.’

  Now her cheeks were flaming. ‘I’m sorry I was angry with you that night,’ she said.

  ‘I know how you felt,’ I told her. ‘I’m sorry too. But not about everything. What happened between us was an accident, but I don’t regret it.’

  She glanced at me quickly. My expression must have surprised her, because her eyes lingered. I thought for a second she would smile, but her sorrow was too great. ‘I know not what you mean,’ she said curtly. ‘I have come because I want you to take my brother, Yovanix, with you. I bought him from my husband last night. Here are the papers proving it. I will give them to you.’ She handed me a small parchment, carefully rolled and tied, and then she got to her feet. ‘I must leave now. I return to my husband and our farm. Do as you wish with Yovanix; he’s honest and a hard worker.’

  ‘And, he’s your brother,’ I said. ‘Would you like to say goodbye in private?’

  ‘We said our goodbyes in the wagon, on our way here. Nevertheless, one last thing I would tell you. The Celts have a legend about the Thief of Souls. I heard a story about Voltarrix, the blond druid with the horned helmet. They say he steals souls. If it is true, you must be very careful.’

  When she left, she didn’t turn around, but her shoulders shook. I thought I knew why. Yovanix sat as still as he possibly could and watched her leave. His mouth was set in a thin line, his eyes bleak. When the wagon disappeared around the bend, he jerked once, then he was still again. The stillness of a slave in the shadows. I sat there, trying to make sense of her last words, then I sighed and looked at Yovanix.

  ‘What are the formalities for freeing a slave here in Gaul?’ I asked. Having already seen the amount of official documents that were needed just to enter Massalia, I feared the worst. Yovanix simply shrugged.

  ‘There are no formalities. You take off my slave bracelet. I am freed.’ He held out his leg and we saw the thick bronze circlet on his ankle.

  Alexander nodded once, sharply. Axiom took a hammer and a chisel and cut the bracelet off. I tossed the parchment into the fire and we watched it burn. No one spoke.

  I went back to packing. Axiom and Paul disappeared into the storeroom, and Nearchus left the cave to fetch firewood. The new druid went to his caldron and stirred it. A sharp, minty smell floated in the air. On the fire were three large iron pots. One held steaming water, one had soup, and one held the druid’s ‘potion of the day’; some sort of cold remedy, from what I gathered. He was getting ready to strain it through cheesecloth and take it to the nearest village. Yovanix rose uncertainly and went to help the druid. His arms were strong and he easily tilted the caldron while the druid held a bucket underneath it. The druid’s beard kept slipping out of his belt and dipping into the bucket. I made a mental note not to let him stir the soup.

  After helping the druid, Yovanix stood nearby, hands dangling at his sides, looking forlorn. He kept glancing at me. I didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t want to take him with us. I was uncomfortably reminded of Selena each time I saw him. Maybe the druid would like to keep him around to help.

  I sighed and tucked the last shirt into the bag I was packing. I’d taken an hour to do a chore that should have taken me ten minutes. We had next to nothing in the clothing department. It was my nerves, I decided. I was still frazzled by the fact I’d gotten drunk and seduced a woman. I put my face in my hands and tried very hard to think of something else. Thinking about the night of the sacrifice made me feel ill. I wished I could either accept what I’d done or forget about it. I dug my fingers into my scalp and squeezed my eyes shut. Why couldn’t I? Because … because, if I were honest with myself – and I was always honest with myself – I’d admit that the mere thought of that night was enough to make my knees get weak and my nipples stand at attention while a heat I was ashamed of grew in my belly.

  I raised my head and saw Yovanix staring at me. With a muffled curse, I got to my feet and ran out of the cave. I took the path leading to the river where smoke from the chimney in the bathhouse told me that there was hot water waiting. I would have bathed in ice-cold water at that point, though. Anything to wash off my shame and sorrow. I’d been unfaithful to Alexander. That’s all I could think about.

  I bathed until my skin was so wrinkled I looked like I needed ironing. Then I climbed out of the tub and slowly dried off. I thought of our voyages. I missed travelling with the army. And taking a bath surrounded with twenty or so soldiers in peak physical condition. I would lie back in the tub, my hands straying to my nether regions, as I watched them slather their bodies with clay and then rinse off. Sometimes helping each other. My heart fluttered, and I tilted my head back, considering. Was what I’d done any different, finally? Was it simply a question of lust, and nothing else? Perhaps I was making too big a deal about the whole thing. I squeezed the water out of my hair and leaned nearer the fire to dry it.

  My thoughts kept going back to the difference between love and lust. I was not a philosopher. I didn’t have an answer for everything. Was lust so bad? Why did it make me feel, well, so dirty? My fingers twisted in my hair, braiding it. Maybe if Selena hadn’t looked at me with such hatred, I would have felt better. I was surprised to find tears trickling down my cheeks. I looked up at the hole in the ceiling where the smoke was leaving in a thin spiral. Some questions simply had no answers; I would never understand what happened that night, or why I felt so badly about it. The thing was, I eventually learned to live with it.

  However, it was a sobering lesson. Ho
w could Alexander come to terms with what he’d done? All I’d done was make love to someone who had no feelings for me, and whom I didn’t love. Alexander had been seduced by his own mother, he’d killed his best friend, and maybe he’d had a hand in his father’s murder. His nightmares took on a new, more profound meaning for me. Was it really his soul that was missing? Or was it something more sinister? Was it because he could never live with what he’d done? Would his melancholy madness come back and this time destroy him? He was like a fabulous gemstone with a flaw. He had a fissure that could shatter him.

  I finished braiding my hair and walked slowly back to the cave. Night had fallen. I looked up at the stars. I hoped that we would find what we were seeking in the land of ice and snow, where the sun never rose and never set, and where the Eaters of the Dead gnawed on the bones of their sacrificial victims. Where the Thief of Souls waited for us.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Yovanix joined our group. The men decided that an extra pair of strong arms could be useful in case of an attack or simply to help push our cart out of a deep mud puddle, which is what happened often between the druid’s sacred forest and the city called Lutetia.

  The road was winding, muddy, snowy, and windy. We were wet, cold, and miserable. Rain came down in sheets, washing away the snow and most of the road. We were soaked through by noon, and didn’t find a settlement before night fell. We were pathetically glad to reach the cheerless huddle of huts and barns that marked the edge of a village. Once on the main street, we realized that the village was a large, prosperous one, and we found good lodgings.

  There was an inn, and a real stable for the horses. The inn had two bedrooms free, and a huge fire roaring in the dining room. We changed into dry clothes and ate a rich pork stew.

  The Gauls’ staple food was pork and pork products; salt pork, bacon, smoked ham, salami, sausage, pâté, pickled pig’s feet, ears, and anything else you can think of starting with ‘pig’. I was surprised that Axiom ate the meat. As a Jew, he was supposed to shun pork. But he only shrugged and said, ‘When in Gaul, eat like the Gauls do, or starve.’ He had a point.

  Axiom, Paul, and Yovanix shared one room. Alexander, Nearchus, and I shared the other.

  I think Nearchus was startled when Alexander organized the rooms, but after a quick glance in my direction, his face became carefully blank. I hadn’t had a moment alone with him to talk, and I wondered, too, what Alexander wanted. He never did anything without carefully thinking through all the consequences.

  Alexander left us alone together while he went to bathe. I sat on the bed and unbraided my hair, brushing it slowly while I tried to think of something to say. Nearchus walked around the small room, tapped on the shutters, held his hands toward the fire, then sat on the low stool in front of the fireplace.

  ‘My Lady,’ he said, ‘Iskander has left us here together, so obviously he wants us to speak. But I am at a loss for words.’

  ‘Me too.’ I admitted. ‘Alexander told me that you and he spent the night of the sacrifice together, maybe he wanted you to tell me about that.’

  ‘Oh. He told you?’ A blush spread to his cheeks.

  ‘I know you’ve loved him for years,’ I said. ‘In the beginning I was more jealous of you than of Plexis.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ He looked curious.

  ‘No, I love him, so I can easily imagine anyone else loving him.’ I said. ‘I believe that love is something that can be shared. However, I don’t think sex has any part in real love. I learned that lesson the hard way.’

  He spread his hands. ‘I have no claim on him. He is your husband. But I do love him.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I don’t mind.’ I frowned and looked at my hands. ‘At least, I don’t think I mind.’

  He looked startled. ‘Plexis and I often spoke of you,’ he said slowly. ‘In the beginning, when I thought you were the goddess, I understood you more than I do now. Plexis never pretended to understand you. He simply let himself go, he told me, like a feather in the wind, and the wind took him to you. But I have always followed Iskander, and I will follow him to the ends of the earth.’

  ‘Nearchus, I’m glad for Alexander that he has a friend as faithful as you.’

  ‘Plexis used to say that we were in love with the sun god,’ he said sadly.

  ‘And the sun gives his warmth equally to everyone,’ I agreed. ‘Plexis was right in some ways, but wrong in others. The sun has no need for us, but Alexander does. He needs us very much.’

  ‘We will always be here for him, won’t we?’ Nearchus said. ‘At least, if you want.’

  ‘I do,’ I said firmly.

  ‘There is a saying from Crete. It goes, “what woman wants, the gods want”. I’m beginning to see that it is true.’

  ‘Aren’t you glad it is?’ I finished combing my hair and I left it loose on my shoulders. We were silent as the fire crackled in the hearth. The rain battered the window. I loved hearing the sound of it. It made me feel even more warm and cosy. I snuggled into the covers and blinked drowsily. The bed was soft and warm. In a minute I would fall asleep. However, before I did, I had to do something. I shrugged off my tunic and motioned for Nearchus to join me. He hesitated, then slid into the bed. His body was long-muscled and tall. He had no desire for me. And I had none for him. I’d learned my lesson well. I kissed him once, on the lips, then I turned over and went to sleep. When Alexander came back into the room I didn’t wake up, and nothing woke me until morning.

  There was a patch of milky light on Alexander’s cheekbone. It made his skin look nearly white. His forehead was touching my shoulder, and his legs were thrown over mine. Nearchus was sleeping on the far side of the bed, on his back with his left arm trailing over the side. His head was turned toward Alexander, his hair spilling onto his shoulder. In sleep, their hands were touching.

  The sun had just risen. There were quiet, early morning noises coming from downstairs, telling me that the innkeeper was awake and lighting the fires in the kitchen and the great hearth in the dining room. We were in a modern village; the Romans had left their stamp on the architecture already. There was a real bath.

  I eased out of bed without waking anyone and grabbed my toiletries. I would bathe and dress, then I would go shopping in the village. I needed a new cloak.

  I took a nice long bath. The innkeeper’s wife had soap that smelled like roses. I asked her for the recipe, and she told me where I could buy some in the village. My spirits were lifting as I dried my hair and dressed.

  I went back to the room to get money. As quietly as I could, I opened the door. Nearchus and Alexander were not sleeping. I quickly backed out and shut the door. I waited a few minutes. Then I knocked. This time I waited until I heard a muffled ‘come in’. Two flushed faces stared at me from the depths of the bed. I cleared my throat. I had thought I wouldn’t be jealous, but seeing my husband in someone else’s arms was a shock. ‘I need money for a new cloak,’ I explained.

  ‘I’ll get it for you.’ Alexander said. He started out of bed, before realizing the state he was in. Now my face was flushed as well. I went to the small box where we kept our coins and fumbled it open. I took what I thought was enough and left hurriedly. Once outside, I leaned against the door and took some deep breaths. My brain was jealous, but my body was betraying me. Alexander aroused was like an electric shock. I closed my eyes. My legs were trembling.

  From inside the room came the slow, telltale creak of the bed and the soft moans and cries I knew so well. I felt as if someone were driving a knife into my stomach. I ran down the stairs. The cold air outside was a welcome relief. I wandered about blindly for nearly an hour. I didn’t know where I was going; I’d forgotten everything, the soap, the cape, shopping. All I could think of was the feeling of bitter disappointment. I didn’t mind when he made love to Plexis, because Plexis and I made love. But Nearchus loved only Alexander. I was shut out of their relationship, and it hurt.

  I had never been jealous of his other wives. He’d
made it clear they didn’t mean anything to him, and I’d actually liked Barsine very much. However, I was confused about Alexander and Nearchus. Confused, and maybe a little angry. Angry with myself, first, for not knowing how to handle the situation, and angry with Nearchus who had thrown himself at Alexander the first chance he got. Finally, I admitted sadly to myself, I was angry with Alexander.

  I found the shop selling soap. I bought a few bars and some perfume, but my heart wasn’t in it. I should have been ecstatic. Real shampoo at last. But I simply let the woman marvel over my hair and sell me what she wanted, then I went to search for a warm cloak.

  I found what I needed. It cost eighteen silver sesterces. Gallic coins were minted by the tribes – each had its own money, but all coins were called sesterces. Gold ones were beautifully worked and came from Lutetia, minted by the Parisii. They were a rich and powerful, and I was eager to see their city. I’d known Paris well, three thousand years in the future, but I didn’t think I’d recognize it now: no baguettes, berets, or swearing taxi drivers.

  I was feeling no better by the time I got back to the inn. Everyone was having breakfast. I hugged Paul and asked if he’d slept well. His cheeks had more colour this morning, and he gave me a real smile. I was glad to see his appetite had returned; his plate was nearly empty. Alexander and Nearchus were sitting in front of plates full of sausage and eggs. Axiom was eating porridge.

  Yovanix was sitting at the very end of the table. He still looked as if he wanted very much to be invisible.

  I nodded politely to everyone and went back upstairs. I wanted to be alone for a while.

  I put the new soaps and perfume in my bag and made sure everything was packed and ready for us to leave. I lay down and buried my face in the pillow. If only time could go backward. Ha! That thought made me give a strangled scream. Time could only go backward from the future. I was stuck here, in a time not my own, with people I’d grown to love, but didn’t understand.