Chapter Sixteen
The Shame of the Sinta Warriors
T
URXU CAME TO
sit down in the fire-lit circle. Quietness and attention spread through all those present, and Kuspada and his daughter exchanged a look of deep sadness.
Myrina saw it and suddenly her heart was very heavy; she knew that she would not like what she was about to hear. But the Moon Riders were no strangers to sorrow, and if they were to live beside these unhappy, gold-decked strangers they must try to understand what it was that troubled them so. She regretted the pain, but they must know the truth.
“Our children called you ‘mothers,’” Kuspada began. “That is because they long to have mothers. You cannot meet the other wives, for they were stolen away and many of them have gone up into the sky to live with Argimpasa.”
Myrina looked around at the sad faces of the few women who were left to them. The men looked down at the ground, their faces miserable and full of shame.
The Moon Riders looked at one another uneasily and waited. “What happened?” Coronilla asked.
Kuspada shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “They are lost through our own stupidity!” His voice was low, so that they struggled to hear him clearly. “I will tell you, but the telling will not come easily, for it is great shame to us. Great shame and sorrow.”
“We will try to listen patiently,” Myrina assured him.
“We remember it as the Bitter Winter.” Kuspada spoke with reluctance, as though each word were dragged from his throat. “It was the winter that my daughter Zimapo was born. All through the summer we men, who call ourselves the gold smelters, had been away from the home camp seeking gold in the mountains to the east. We left the women and children and the old men behind in the northern pastures to watch over the sheep, for the grass grows green and lush up there in the summertime. This is how we Sinta live— How we used to live,” he corrected himself. He stopped for a moment, his face lined with sorrow.
Coronilla and Akasya listened with concern, for they knew enough of the Luvvian language to understand most of his words. The Sinta women and men sat in silence, their faces sad even though they did not know the language in which the blacksmith spoke to their visitors; they knew the story only too well.
“Another group of Sinta men left the home tents and traveled northward,” Kuspada continued. “They were the horse ropers who went seeking out herds of wild horses. As winter approached we should all have returned to move the camp south to this sheltered place, but we had found gold of a quality and quantity that we had never before seen. Each day we promised ourselves that we would return, but then we would swear that one more day would make no difference; we were hauling out from the mountainside more gold than we had ever seen.”
The faces of the listening women were heavy with sadness, and many quietly wiped away a tear.
Myrina tried to give sympathy. “I can see that it must have been a great temptation for you,” she said. “You must have thought that you were making your tribe very rich!”
Kuspada nodded. “We have bitterly regretted it ever since. You see, we thought that the horse ropers would have returned to the home camp, but their hunt for new steeds had taken them farther north than usual.
“I told you that the Scythian tribes were once all one family, but some of the tribes have become our enemies. That summer, unknown to us, the Hullalli tribe who live up on the plains to the northwest had sent raiding parties south, stealing our women and our herds.”
“Aah! We have suffered from Achaean raiding gangs!” Coronilla growled in sympathy. “Many of us Moon Riders have lost our families like this!”
Kuspada nodded, glad of this rough understanding. “When the onset of severe weather brought us gold smelters to our senses,” he continued, “we did at last set out to return, laden as never before, but snow fell and thick ice set in, so that our horses could not move. We had no choice but to make camp and stay where we were, far from our wives and little ones. There on the slopes of the mountains we struggled through the harshest winter we have ever known, living meagerly on the beasts that we managed to kill, telling ourselves that at least the horse ropers would have got back to look after the tribe.”
The Moon Riders’ faces were grim. They knew what was coming.
Kuspada gave a great sigh, heavy with misery and guilt. “When at last the thaw came,” he told them, “we struggled back, our sleds piled high with the precious gold, to find a terrible sight of desolation. The horse ropers had been caught in the ice, just as we had. Many of the old people had died of cold and starvation, having lost all the sheep and goats; and worst of all, our wives had been stolen away by the Hullalli or had died in the struggle. My brave wife, Aplia, was one of them.”
Tears filled Myrina’s eyes and she wondered if she should stop Kuspada, for it was clear that his words gave great pain. But he seemed determined to go on; the story had to be told, however terrible. They must listen with patience, for nothing in the telling should be rushed.
Kuspada struggled with his feelings for a moment, but then he swallowed hard and went on. “We arrived home dripping with gold, rich beyond our dreams, but we’d lost all that we truly held dear, sacrificed it to gold . . . and greed.”
Myrina had seen a great deal of sorrow in her life, but she understood that the terrible guilt of the Sinta warriors must be beyond anything.
Kuspada pointed out the young woman who’d come boldly to greet them; she sat listening quietly with two children on her lap, another at her feet. “Tabi was a young girl of twelve winters and she turned huntress, with her little group of warriors. She and her young team did their best to take the place of the men and they did well. We honor her greatly. Sere looked after Zimapo and the other motherless children and fed them, denying herself so that she almost died; now all the children call her grandmother. So when you ask to see our wives . . .” Kuspada broke down at last and it seemed he couldn’t go on.
“We are truly sorry for you,” Myrina told him.
He sighed. “We have gold to buy whatever we need. We can buy sheep and goats and have captured many horses, but . . . we do not have many wives. Since the Bitter Winter we older men rarely travel far from the home tents; only the young warriors go off to hunt. That is how our young men first saw you when you struggled ashore and claimed the herd by the river. They made camp by the sheltering rocks and kept watch on you.”
Myrina quickly perceived that the discovery of a camp full of young women must hold great significance for these lonely warriors. “We understand now,” she said. “That is why the children called us ‘mothers.’”
Kuspada nodded. “Those children are the ones that Sere saved; they long for new mothers. I will tell the truth, though I am shamed by it. When we came to understand that you were not men but women, our first wild thought was to raid your camp and snatch away as many young women as we could. But Turxu pointed out that you were fierce and deadly warriors; such a raid might well bring death to us all. So we decided to wait and watch and try a gentler way. We would make sure that you didn’t die for want of food or warmth and hope that in time you would come to see us as friends. Our young men need wives—we cannot deny it. No women would be more precious and treasured than those who came to join the Sinta tribe; we would look to their every need and never, never leave them alone again.”
Tabi suddenly spoke up in the Scythian tongue, holding both her hands out to Myrina in a pleading gesture. Myrina understood that she was begging the Moon Riders to join them and take the place of the lost Sinta wives.
Akasya and Coronilla both looked up with concern, raising their eyebrows and shaking their heads.
“We cannot offer our young women against their will.” Coronilla was firm about that.
Akasya shrugged. “To be treasured and spoiled is not the way of Moon Riders!” Having spent many years as a slave in Troy she was often fearful that she’d lose her freedom again.
Myrina turned to Kuspada, choosing her words carefully. “We are a very different people and we have different ways. We Moon Riders choose ourselves a husband; nobody may wed a Moon Rider against her will.”
Kuspada’s face immediately clouded over with disappointment, so that Myrina hastened to say more. “We are full of sorrow for your terrible loss and grateful to you beyond words for the help that you have given us. Between the Sinta people and the Moon Riders there shall always be friendship.”
The blacksmith looked up with renewed interest and began translating her words, so that the listening Sintas could understand.
“We came to these shores seeking new land and safety,” Myrina went on, “for we have suffered at the hands of raiders and were taken into captivity. We are grateful that you did not attack us, as you had every right to do. You decided to wait and watch; that was most honorable. Let us continue to wait and watch. We all fear the winter that is coming soon, so let us live side by side and help each other in every way we can; then, in the Month of New Leaves, each Moon Rider will make up her own mind. Each woman shall choose for herself—until then, we shall be friends.”
“Well said, Snake Lady!” Coronilla agreed. “Buy us time! We do not want to fight with them.”
Kuspada respectfully rose to his feet, nodding his head at Myrina’s answer and holding out the palm of his hand to her. “That is more than fair,” he said. “Will you Moon Riders move your camp and set up your tents beside the sheltering rocks? You will be warmer there and you will get to know us better.”
“Yes,” Myrina agreed. Since she had seen the camp beneath Eagle Rocks, something of the kind had been in her own mind.
Kuspada repeated their agreement in Scythian to the listening Sinta people, and though their reaction was not one of wild joy, there was much thoughtful nodding and acceptance.
Tabi got up, the youngest child in her arms, and held out her palm to Myrina. “This is right,” she agreed, smiling.
“Thank you.” Myrina smiled back: she could see that this brave young woman would have made a fine Moon Rider.
Tabi spoke to Kuspada in the Scythian language—her words came out so fast and insistently that Myrina could not follow them, but she was pleased when Kuspada turned to her to explain. “Tabi insists that all our women and children move their camp to Levas Rocks. There we may all live side by side and keep each other warm and safe.”
Myrina nodded at Tabi. “We would be honored.”
The Sinta women were very excited at the idea, and at once they began to strip the felt from their tent frames and roll up their belongings.
Myrina looked around and saw that Fara’s face was downcast. Turxu sat a little way off, his dark eyes full of concern, for Fara had moved away from him. What did this mean? Myrina thought that perhaps she understood and gently bent to touch Fara’s arm. “Why do you look so sad?” she asked, wanting to be sure that she had not misunderstood.
Fara struggled to her feet and forced her shoulders back, reasserting the proud spirit of the warrior priestess. “It’s nothing,” she said, quickly knuckling tears from her cheeks. “It is just that I see now why he wanted me. What has happened to these people is more bitter than anything, but because of their need—any wife would do!”
Myrina sighed; it was as she thought. But she remembered with a touch of guilt how she’d sat on Big Chief’s back, secretly watching the two young people in the moonlight. Their intimacy had touched her to her very core and forced her to acknowledge her own loneliness.
She smiled and spoke again. “I understand your doubts,” she said. “And you will have time enough to make your final choice, but I can tell you this—the expression that I see in Turxu’s eyes when he looks at you is not just the admiration of a young man who needs a mate.”
“Is it not?” Fara was listening.
Myrina shook her head. “It took me a long time to recognize that look in my own young warrior’s eyes, and when at last I did, the time we had together was all too short. I would not want you to have so short a time. You must know that I would give anything now to see my Tomi ride over the hill. Do not let doubt and pride stand in the way. Look at Turxu and listen to what your heart tells you.”
Just for a moment Fara glimpsed the pain that Myrina hid behind a burnished mask of courage, her fist clenched tightly to her chest. She looked from the Snake Lady to Turxu and saw that he followed her every move with his dark, worried gaze.
She smiled and hugged Myrina tightly. “Thank you, Snake Lady,” she said. “Your words are as wise as an old woman’s, though you yourself are still young.”
Myrina shook her head, feeling very old indeed, while Fara went at once to Turxu and took him by the hand.
Chapter Seventeen
The Great Camp
T
HAT NIGHT THE
small group of Moon Riders danced by the Sinta campfire. They even performed the sacred moon dance, while their hosts watched in quiet awe. In the morning they set out on their return journey, Kuspada insisting on escorting them back.
Myrina felt more comfortable than ever in his company and now, as they traveled, she told him much of the troubled history of the Moon Riders. His eyes gleamed with admiration as she recounted the escape from the city of Troy, for even as far north as the Sinta lands they knew much of that long and bitter fight. His mouth became a tight, grim line as she told of the battle of the Thermodon and their enslavement at the hands of Achilles’ son. There was just one thing that Myrina left out: she didn’t mention Tomi or his brave and tragic death; somehow the right words for that wouldn’t come to her.
When at last they’d passed Eagle Rocks and were almost back at the Moon Riders’ camp, Tamsin and Phoebe came galloping bravely out to meet them.
“Who is the mother of these lovely children?” Kuspada asked.
Myrina smiled with pride. “Phoebe, the older one, is the child of my sister, who was killed by Achilles’ men. Tamsin is my own daughter.”
“You have a husband?” Kuspada asked, with a touch of regret.
“No!” Myrina shook her head. She still could not bring herself to tell him of Tomi’s death.
But he was quick to understand the expression of pain that suddenly clouded her face. “You have lost your dearest one,” he said. “You are like me!”
That night, as the Moon Riders sat around their fire, the dreadful story of the lost wives of the Sinta warriors was retold. Everyone listened in silence; some of the women were touched with excitement, others were uneasy.
“We are wearing dead women’s clothes,” they said, pulling uncomfortably at the warm felt trousers and smocks the warriors had brought as gifts.
“Better dead women’s clothes than freezing to death,” Kora told them roundly.
“We cannot afford to fuss over that,” Myrina agreed.
But then another concern was voiced. “Is this what we rode away from Troy to find?”
“We were slaves, but then we found freedom and honor as warrior priestesses. Are we now to sit like tame cats at a man’s hearthside?”
“And men who are careless with their wives by the sound of it!”
Myrina told them all of the arrangement that she’d made with the Sintas. “In the Month of New Leaves you shall decide. I swear that none shall be forced—you shall all make your own free choice—but tomorrow we will move our tents and set up camp beneath Eagle Rocks, alongside them.”
Those who were doubtful agreed reluctantly, and in the morning there was much grumbling at the extra work of having to move camp, but some of the young Sinta men arrived with horse-drawn sleds to help.
Big Chief and his mares watched them nervously, flurries of skittish movement passing through their ranks, but when the women started to erect their tents on the other side of the river, they lowered their heads to search for fresh grass again.
As soon as the Moon Riders arrived at Eagle Rocks, smiles of pleasure and understanding passed between them. “Warm!” they whispered. “So much warmer here.”
Three camps were established side by side. There was shyness for a day or two, but it wasn’t long before barriers broke down, so that Tabi was soon to be found among the Moon Riders, while Tamsin and Phoebe sparred with the Sinta boys. Zimapo watched for a few days, then went to join them.
The Sinta boys tried to shoo her away, but she stood her ground, swinging a strong, straight stick at them.
“If they can fight you, so can I!”
“Sinta women do not fight!” the young boys told her, their faces marked with disapproval. “Go back to the cooking pot!”
Tamsin and Phoebe strode to Zimapo’s defense, setting themselves one on either side of her. “She fights with us!” they said.
The Sinta boys gave in.
Kora enjoyed herself, flirting with the men and bossing the cooks about. Myrina had a few moments of doubt when arguments broke out, but these were quickly dispelled when she realized that they had moved just in time. Within days of the establishment of the great camp, snow began to fall. Some of the Moon Riders had never seen snow before; none of them had ever seen snow like this. Large flat flakes fell steadily, carpeting the ground so that it was hard to tell where the rocks stood out from the grass.
The hiss of bellows and the sound of hammering issued from Kuspada’s tent. Due to his hard work and generosity, the steeds of the warrior priestesses soon sported the dainty gold bits they’d admired so much. They set about learning this new way of steering their horses, skillfully directing their beasts by using gentle pressure on the sensitive parts of the mouth, rather than with the thighs as they had always done before.
The young Sinta warriors were eager to learn Mazagardi horse skills and it wasn’t long before they walked among the skittish foals, stroking and touching their withers and flanks, just like the Moon Riders. They worked hard to master the clicks and cries, so that without ever using whips or ropes they could make a horse turn and follow them, obedient to their every command.
There was much laughter as the two groups tried to learn each other’s way of speaking. The women swore that they were quicker to pick up the Scythian tongue.
In the evenings the Moon Riders sang and danced, and at first the Sintas watched them respectfully, but gradually they found the confidence to get up and perform the ancient horse dances of their tribe. Men and women danced together, gaining warmth and strength from the vigorous exercise, and as friendships grew and flourished, many couples enjoyed the warmth and comfort of sharing their tents through the freezing nights. Fara and Turxu were never apart; it seemed there would be little doubt about the choice that Fara would make when the Month of New Leaves came.
Sometimes Myrina would wrap herself up well and wander away from the camp, searching out a small pool of water to sit beside, letting her water visions bring her reassurance that her distant friends fared well. One freezing night she confided to Coronilla that though she had searched all evening, she couldn’t find a pool anywhere that wasn’t frozen solid.
“We had to break the ice this morning to let the horses drink,” Coronilla told her. “You miss your mirror more than most, Snake Lady. Are we Moon Riders losing the skills that we had?”
“I think we are gaining new ones,” Myrina said.
“Mmm . . .” Coronilla acknowledged uncertainly.
Coronilla and Akasya, who had always been close, now seemed to be inseparable. They gathered a little group around them who adhered strictly to the Moon Riders’ ways. They competed with the Sinta men at riding, shooting, and hunting and seemed to enjoy their company, but it was clear that they would not be looking for a mate in the spring. It did not go unnoticed by them that their Snake Lady sat with the blacksmith most nights, and they saw how content she was in his company.
The Bitter Months came, and as the coldest days approached they planned a feast. “This is the Sinta way,” Kuspada told them. “The feast gives us strength, and after that our hearts lift, for we know that we will soon greet the returning spring.”
Myrina smiled, again reminded of the old Mazagardi ways.
At the winter feast small gifts changed hands and Myrina was a little disconcerted when Kuspada gave her a present wrapped in a scarf of soft felt, dyed purple.
“What is this?” she asked, dismayed that she hadn’t thought to find a gift for him.
He smiled shyly. “For our snake lady.”
She opened the soft wrapping, and there inside lay a gleaming mirror of solid gold, a finely crafted snake coiled daintily around the edge. It was so beautifully wrought that every tiny scale on the snake’s skin was marked and the mirror shiny and polished so that she could see her reflection clearly.
“Aah!” She snatched it up and, neglecting to say thank you, fled away from the feasting circle, clutching the mirror to her chest.
Kuspada watched her go, dismayed, but Coronilla caught his sleeve. “No, no”—she wagged a finger in his face—“the gift is so wonderful that she cannot wait to use it. That mirror is perfect and in time you will understand why.”
Just as Coronilla had promised, Myrina soon emerged from her tent, a huge smile on her face. She went straight to Kuspada. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered. “You could not have given me anything more precious and beautiful.”
Kuspada smiled, relieved. “Coronilla told me how the Ant Man’s warriors melted down your father’s careful work,” he said. “I hope I do not presume too much in making something to take its place.”
Myrina reached up and kissed him on the lips. They stood there for a long while smiling at each other, and Kuspada had no more worries about his gift.
At last the snow and ice began to retreat; the men and women who camped beneath Eagle Rocks were joyful with relief. A new energy seemed to buzz in the air. Lambs were born, and it was clear that many of the mares were pregnant. Fara also realized that she was pregnant and when she came to tell Myrina, the Snake Lady could not help but be happy for her.
“You must know what my choice will be,” Fara whispered.
“You will stay with Turxu?”
Fara nodded.
But when the girl had gone, a touch of sadness came to Myrina. The incident had been a sharp reminder that the Month of New Leaves was not very far away, and she must honor her promise to let each young woman make her choice freely. Fara had always been so brave and bold, she’d made the perfect Moon Rider. Must they lose her now?
Kuspada came to her tent one cold bright day in the Month of Sheep’s Milk to tell her that he planned to take some of the young Sinta warriors with him and travel west to a city where neighboring tribes gathered for spring markets and horse dealing. “I still have a wealth of gold to sell,” he told her. “And we need more sheep and goats to provide for our great camp of people.”
Myrina nodded. He seemed to be touched with renewed confidence and vigor; the old flinching look of shame was rarely to be seen in his eyes.
“Will you come with us?” he asked.
Myrina smiled. The thought of riding with him through the sun-wakening grasslands was very pleasant, but she shook her head.