Voyage of the Snake Lady

Part One

VOYAGE TO THE NORTH

Chapter one

The Last Salute

MYRINA GRITTED HER teeth; the rocking of the galley made her feel sick. All the captive women were in great discomfort, crammed into narrow corridors beneath the thwarts, stowed like baggage around the edges of the ship. Myrina’s daughter Tamsin clung to her, white faced, but there was little that she could do to comfort the child in that confined space. They were roped together by the ankles, Iphigenia on one side of her and Coronilla on the other; only the young girls were free. Myrina hugged Tamsin tightly. Keeping her daughter safe must be her main purpose now, but she was concerned about Coronilla, who was suffering from a battered head and seemed to be falling into a deathlike sleep.

Despite everything, Myrina felt that she must make one last farewell. I may never see this land again, she muttered. She twisted around so that she could look up through the oar holes, as the galley pulled away from the shore. Though her view was restricted, she managed to glimpse two grave markers standing out stark on the horizon. She had raised those markers herself—one for Hati, her grandmother, and the other for Atisha, the old leader of the Moon Riders. Both old women had died within a few days of each other in the Month of Falling Leaves. Myrina had taken their ashes from the pyre and buried them side by side above the River Thermodon.

Good-bye, Hati, warrior grandmother, she whispered. Good-bye, Atisha, wise old woman. Though I crouch here in shame I salute you both: you will always be here with me in my heart. Then she said fiercely, I am glad you are not here to see what has become of the once-honored Moon Riders!

As the two boats moved farther away from the shore, she craned her neck to see the other riverbank, searching for yet another marker. Myrina’s horse Isatis had been her faithful companion since the blue-black foal was born into her arms when she was five. Myrina had seen only thirteen springs when she’d ridden away from her home tent on Isatis’s back to join the Moon Riders, warrior priestesses of Earth Mother Maa.

But both horse and rider had suffered many years of hard struggle since then, and as they grew older together, Isatis had developed a breathing sickness that gradually made every movement difficult. When the sight of the suffering mare became too much, it was Myrina herself who’d hammered a sharpened spearpoint into Isatis’s forehead, so that death came instantly. Her friends had offered to relieve her of the terrible job, but for no other Moon Rider would Isatis drop her head in perfect trust and stillness. So Myrina had forced herself to strike the one powerful blow. She had cremated the carcass and buried Isatis’s ashes along with the fine snake-patterned harness that her father had made.

At last, as she craned her neck, she saw the hillock on the shore with the small cairn of stones piled up carefully to mark the spot. Her lips twisted with bitterness and it was hard to get the words out, but they had to be said: Sleep well, my brave Isatis. She lifted her hand from Tamsin’s head in salute.

Deep anger at what had happened kept her eyes dry. Two hundred and fifty women had lived with their children beside the River Thermodon; they were all that was left of the Moon Riders, who’d long been respected for their sacred dancing and warrior skills. Many of the women had once been slaves in the city of Troy, but they had escaped and regained their sense of worth and dignity by joining the ranks of the Moon Riders. Their Achaean enemies had feared these warrior women and called them Amazons, but they’d lived peacefully enough during these years, in harmony with the fisher folk who inhabited that shoreline by the Thermodon. Then, in the Month of New Leaves, news had come of a fleet of warships sailing northward through the Bosphorus into the Black Sea, bearing the much-feared symbol of the ant. Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, had recovered from the long struggle of the Trojan War and, being still an energetic man, he came raiding along the southern coast, looting all those who’d tried to defend the city of Troy and the Anatolian tribal lands.

Myrina had set up a system of beacons to give warning of their approach. When at last Neoptolemus arrived, it had been in a light, fast flagship, and though he’d sailed close to the land at the mouth of the Thermodon, he’d looked carefully at the landing places and then sailed on. There had been a day of uncertainty and then relief followed, for it seemed that they were not worth the trouble of an attack. But the following morning black dots appeared on the horizon and the sea soon darkened with the shapes of sails, while Myrina rushed to reorganize their defenses. Neoptolemus had sailed ahead of a huge navy, spying out the land, leaving the real dirty work to his followers.

When the battle came at last, both warrior priestesses and fisher folk fought bravely, but this new generation of Achaeans were huge in number. Jealous of their fathers’ stories of the Trojan War, they burned with their own desire for adventure and riches. Moon Riders who did not die fighting were taken captive, their boy children slaughtered before their eyes. Among the young girls who had survived were Leti and Fara, but their mothers had died in the battle, and now the older Moon Riders tried hard to care for them and watch them with motherly concern.

The horses had been slaughtered, too, for the seafaring Achaeans had little use for the beasts. The captives were stripped of their weapons, their sheep and goats herded aboard the young Ant Man’s ships, while the main fleet sailed onward to the west, still eager for more plunder, leaving two smaller vessels packed with prisoners to be taken they knew not where.

Myrina muttered angrily, reminding herself sternly that her tribe was nomadic and had always roamed from pasture to pasture. Home was a tent, family, and comrades; home could be wherever you made it. I am Mazagardi born! What does it matter where I go?

Tamsin had at last fallen asleep, exhausted, her arms wrapped tightly about her mother. Myrina gently wiped a smear of blood from the corner of her child’s bruised mouth. Though she could feel nothing but anger, she forced herself to remember that some of those she loved remained; she must think fast to save what she could. She put one arm around Coronilla, trying to make her more comfortable. Others had survived the battle; though many, like Coronilla, were in a bad way. Myrina’s own body was covered in cuts and bruises, but she considered herself lucky. Tamsin was a fair weight to support in these cramped conditions, but she took comfort from the heavy warmth of her daughter leaning on her shoulder—her seven-year-old lived, when so many others had been slaughtered. Then suddenly she looked about her in panic. Where was Phoebe? Her niece was the much-loved child of her sister Reseda, killed along with most of the Mazagardi tribe while the war for the city of Troy raged all about them.

Phoebe! Phoebe! Myrina shouted urgently.

She is here—Akasya has her safe! Iphigenia answered.

Myrina leaned across and saw them farther down the corridor. Phoebe’s head was resting against Akasya’s shoulder, though she looked bruised and pale. Myrina had ordered the young girl to stay inside the home tent, but Phoebe had crept out in the middle of the battle and wounded many an Achaean by raining down arrows from the hillside. Eventually one of them had crept up behind her and felled her with a heavy blow to the head.

Will she live? Myrina did not like the stillness of the young girl or the sight of dried blood among her matted curls.

Her head is battered, but she breathes steadily, Akasya promised. Do not fear, Snake Lady, I will take good care of her.

If it were not for these two who call me Mother and this rope, by Maa, I swear I’d throw myself into the sea, Myrina said. They cast my mirror into their melting pot—and all my power has melted with it! Father made it for me with such tenderness and care when I went with the Moon Riders.

Iphigenia shook her head. You are mistaken, Snake Lady. She spoke with calm determination. Your power does not lie in a mirror, beautiful and magical though it was. Your father’s tenderness and care is always there in your heart. I still have the mirror that the Princess Cassandra gave me, hidden away inside my robe; it is yours to use whenever you wish. Close your eyes now and rest.

Myrina was calmed and touched by Iphigenia’s generosity. A Moon Rider’s mirror was her most precious possession, and Iphigenia treasured the gleaming black round of obsidian that Cassandra had given her long ago. The offer to share it showed the deepest love and trust.

I must not give up all hope! she agreed.

No, you must not, Iphigenia said. Have you noted the ship’s figurehead?

Myrina strained to see the prow of the ship, high above the foredeck. For a moment she glimpsed the head and shoulders of a woman carved in wood, a crescent moon on her brow; then she quickly understood. Artemis. It was to the Achaeans’ huntress goddess that Iphigenia had been dedicated as a child. The crescent moon had long been the symbol of the Moon Riders, too.

Iphigenia nodded. This ship is named for the Moon Lady.

You think that bodes well for us?

Oh yes! We have often agreed that the Achaeans’ Moon Lady is close to the moon aspect of Earth Mother Maa. And I saw that the other ship is named for her twin brother, the sun god.

Apollo—the god of our friend Chryseis?

You see—Iphigenia nodded again sleepily—things are better than they seem. Let us trust that the Moon Lady and her brother will protect us while we are in their ships. You have not slept for two days and nights, so put your head on my shoulder and let sleep give us the strength that we need.

I wish I felt as certain of this protection as you do! Myrina grumbled, but she knew that she must acknowledge her own exhaustion and accept that at the moment she was helpless. At last she lowered her head like an obedient child to rest on her friend’s slim shoulder, her eyelids so heavy that they would not stay open anymore.

They woke with the morning sun and for a moment Myrina could not think where she was. Her body ached in every part, and foul-tasting fluid rose in her throat; then terrible memories flooded back. She looked beside her at Coronilla, who murmured words that meant nothing, while Tamsin whimpered as she woke.

It’s all right, Young Lizard, Myrina murmured automatically. Snake Mother’s here!

Iphigenia woke, blinking up at the sun as it shot over the bows, and groaned as she shuffled around in the confined space, trying to ease her cramping muscles.

We’ve been in trouble before, Myrina said, but I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this!

She struggled hard to force back the despair again, gently smoothing Tamsin’s hair away from her face. The child did not weep or wail as she woke and remembered what had happened, but stretched her limbs a little. I am hungry, Snake Mother, she said. When did we last eat?

That’s my young lizard. Myrina smiled at her with fierce pride. We must eat to survive.

Chapter Two

While We Have Life

IPHIGENIA LEANED FORWARD to look farther down the narrow corridor space. See what is happening . . . She touched Myrina’s arm. They are allowing those at the end to creep out one by one onto the deck and get water—and something to eat! At least they are not planning to starve us.

By Maa, it’s kind of them! said Myrina.

They would have slaughtered us by now, if they were going to. You know what this means?

Myrina frowned. Aye!

The thought had been there in her head, but she was reluctant to acknowledge it. She looked down the row of shackled women to Akasya, remembering how—along with many of the women—she’d once been a slave in the city of Troy. If Akasya survived she would understand well enough what was intended for them.

Slavery! She shuddered as she spoke the word. We are taken as slaves!

Slaves? Tamsin murmured.

Iphigenia nodded. But . . . at least that means they want us alive and strong!

Myrina looked at her fiercely. Better dead! she mouthed, so that Tamsin couldn’t hear.

No! Iphigenia contradicted her. While we have life, we have . . . a chance.

Myrina groaned, but she knew that Iphigenia was right. The terrified young girl who’d once been offered as a sacrifice by her own father had now acquired wisdom that would grace a crone.

Myrina must dredge up her old fighting spirit from the depths of her soul; she must find courage, observe their situation, and see if there was any possible way of escape. She looked up and shouted in the Luvvian language at the oarsman above her. Hey, you! Speak Luvvian?

Shut your mouth! he snarled back at her in the same tongue.

Where are we going?

None of your business! Shut your mouth!

Myrina bit her tongue with fury, sensing that there would be no help from that source. He would be the first to suffer if she was ever free to move again.

At last, as the sun moved up into the sky, shining sharp and low, they prepared to shuffle out, still roped together, onto the lower middle deck. The women ahead of them were moving slowly in a long chain when there was a sudden splash and a horrified, suppressed gasp from the captives.

What is it? Myrina whispered.

Akasya turned back to her, shuddering. It was Ebba. Her mouth worked with bitterness. They have thrown her overboard. They’ll only feed those they think will live!

Myrina turned back to Coronilla, who still lay white faced and crumpled beside her. Wake up! she hissed, bending over her fearfully. She shook her shoulders and then began frantically pinching her cheeks. Wake up, fierce one, and open your eyes!

Tamsin picked up her mother’s concern. Wake up, Coronilla! she cried.

In desperation Myrina lifted her hand to slap her. But before the blow fell, Coronilla’s eyes fluttered open and a faint tinge of rose touched her cheeks where she’d been pinched.

Thank you, Maa! Myrina gasped. Come on, brave one! Force yourself to life again, or we shall lose you. Do you understand? Lean on me, but don’t let them see it.

Mmm, Coronilla murmured.

Can you move? You must move!

Coronilla lurched over onto her hands and knees.

That’s it, brave one! You must crawl and keep going.

She managed to struggle on as they were allowed out, one by one, onto the low middle deck, where they were given a little fetid water and a barley biscuit. They were watched eagle-eyed from the higher afterdeck by the captain of the Artemis. Myrina itched to leap up and put her strong hands around his fat neck. But for the rope that hobbled her, she could have done it and killed him there and then, for she knew how to snap a man’s neck like a rabbit’s—but where would such an action leave them? Instead she gave Tamsin some hard biscuit dipped in water, then took a little herself. Iphigenia unobtrusively propped up Coronilla, helping her to drink and eat. Akasya fed Phoebe, and Myrina was relieved to see that her niece was awake and seemed to be reviving.

The captain came down from his position on the afterdeck and inspected his goods. Young ones—his voice was thick and hoarse with pleasure as he gently touched Phoebe’s curls—pretty ones—sweet as honey.

He stretched out his hand and felt Leti’s muscular shoulder. The young girl bared her teeth at him, but he laughed in her face. Ha! They will fetch a good price!

Myrina swore silently to herself that he would die, but she swallowed her pride and forced her voice to sound gentle, her face to look sad and sorrowful. Not if they starve or sicken—there will be no price for them then. Release us from these bonds and we will feed and clean them. We have no weapons, and where can we go but into the sea?

The captain sneered and laughed. I thank you, madam, for your kind concern for my cargo. He climbed back up to the afterdeck. Release those two bitches with the young ones, he ordered, indicating Myrina and Akasya. Set them to work feeding the sickly ones and get them all cleaned up!

The two ships turned, heading steadily west, still in sight of the shore. The Apollo pulled a little way ahead, but the wind blew against them and the oarsmen had a job to keep them on course. Myrina and Akasya moved dutifully about the deck of the Artemis, carrying water and slops, cleaning wounds as best they could. Myrina kept Tamsin, Leti, and Fara busy helping her, hoping to keep them out of the captain’s way. Though Phoebe was recovering well, they made her lie still, hoping that she would not attract attention.

Rest, they told her. Keep quiet and still.

The captain would not be persuaded to release any more of his captives, and it was hard work for so few of them. Coronilla’s bruising deepened in color, but Myrina was relieved to see that she seemed to be recovering and coming to her senses.

Did you hit me, Snake Lady? she asked.

Would I dare to? Myrina smiled, relieved to hear her speak so.

When the midday sun beat down on them, Myrina flopped down beside Iphigenia to have a brief rest. I have been counting the sea pigs, she hissed. There are fifty-five of them, while there are eighty-two of us. Were we free we could take them easily.

But only you and Akasya and the girls are free! Iphigenia answered.

Myrina grinned fiercely. With one knife I could release you all very fast.

Iphigenia nodded, but her face was grim. You’d be more likely to get that knife between your shoulder blades, she said. "And what of the other boat? I saw them drag Centaurea aboard the Apollo, along with some of the fishwives."

Was she hurt?

I do not think so.

Thank Maa for that. Myrina frowned. They have taken fishwives, too?

Only those who are big and strong; I saw them slit the throats of those who were wounded!

Myrina shook her head. These sea pigs will die, she whispered. I swear it! We must watch and wait but be ready to pounce should any chance come to us. If the moment arrives and we bellow out our war cry, our friends on the other boat will hear and understand. Centaurea will know what it means well enough.

Iphigenia nodded. The Moon Lady will be with us.

The day passed on the crowded deck beneath the hot sun, but during the night most of the women were herded back under the cramped thwarts. They slept as best they could, still roped together in that restricted space while the oarsmen rested above them. Myrina and Akasya were allowed to stay on deck with the girls, though they were roped together and fastened to the thwarts. The captain repeatedly prowled about through the hours of darkness and Myrina was terrified that he’d snatch Tamsin and Phoebe away from them.

At times a helpless knot of shame tied itself tight inside her. Playing the submissive woman was deep humiliation to her. It was against everything she’d been taught by her parents, her tribe, and as a Moon Rider. All through the night she and Akasya whispered desperately together.

That fat pig of a captain who keeps leering at Phoebe has a sharp paring knife stuck in his belt! I want to snatch it and pare his guts with it!

Yes. Akasya scowled. But his crew would be on you in an instant!

Myrina ground her teeth in the shadows. If he comes near Phoebe once again I shall have him! Whatever it costs!

Phoebe was recovering from her head blow, but she seemed not to remember what had happened or where she was. The captain had offered her figs from a barrel he’d got stashed aboard, and she ate them and then was sick. Tamsin was fretful and miserable; in her early years she’d grown used to having a great deal of freedom.

Another day passed, and with careful tending some of the women seemed to be regaining their strength. As darkness fell on the second evening, the sea turned choppy and Myrina’s spirits sank again, for she could see no way out of this terrible situation. If somehow one of us could distract them, while the other snatched a knife . . . She knew that it would lead to instant death.

It is the very last resort, Akasya said. It could go wrong and bring death to all of us!

But fear of such an attempt going wrong was soon replaced by fear of a very different kind. As the Artemis swung farther out into the Black Sea, struggling to hold a course westward, the wind increased, raising the sea to great rolling waves so that the deck began to lurch violently up and down. It seemed they were heading into a storm.

Clouds covered the moon, and it began to rain heavily. As the ship rolled and the deck turned slippery, neither captives nor crew could do anything but cling to the thwarts and gunwales; before long many aboard were spewing up their guts. The captain called for the helmsman to swing the steering oar around so that they could head back to land and take shelter in the lee of the coast.

By Maa! We could do without this! Myrina cursed, clasping Tamsin tightly in her arms.

Akasya held Phoebe, murmuring words of comfort as the girl clapped her hand over her mouth and vomited. But as the ship lurched again Myrina remembered what Iphigenia had said and turned to Akasya. No—maybe I see the Moon Lady’s hand in this! The sea pigs are struggling to stay afloat and cannot watch what we do. Maybe our moment will come.

Chapter Three

The Moon Lady’s Hand

AKASYA UNDERSTOOD MYRINA’S suggestion, but she laughed bitterly. If this is the Moon Lady’s hand, I would have chosen a gentler kind of help, not a filthy storm! But that goddess was never known for her gentleness!

They both looked up to the afterdeck, where the captain and the helmsman struggled and argued over the steering oar. The captain skidded on the wet deck as they tried to haul the heavy oar about and control the ship’s direction. The small knife that Myrina had coveted suddenly slipped from his belt and fell onto the lower deck, unnoticed by its owner.

Myrina saw it at once. Blessings of Mother Maa, she whispered, but I cannot reach it for this wretched rope!

She looked back at her young niece, who was struggling not to vomit over Akasya. Phoebe was nimble and brave as a tiger, but this was not the best moment for her. Tamsin was free to move, but how could she ask one so young to do something so dangerous? Leti and Fara were older and they were free, but should she ask them to carry out something that she feared to ask her own child to do?

Then, as they were hurled against the gunwales, Tamsin wriggled out of her mother’s arms. There was no need to ask her—Tamsin was alert