Amazon Moon (19 page)

"Scornful Assembly members ordered me into the army. But commanders wanted only strong fighting men, so I was assigned to guard caravans. And now I am here." He looked around sheepishly.

I glanced at Octos, who was smirking. But we both held our tongues and didn't guffaw at the bumbling mystic who could foresee nothing, not even his own capture by Amazons.

Next day, Augur was assigned to beginner work: pulling weeds in a vegetable patch. After dinner I told him I was the village scribe, with access to scientific writings on astronomy.

"The parchment by Eudoxus explains how the zodiac figures appear one by one and remain visible about half a year each," I said. "But it says nothing about using them to foretell the future."

Augur grew animated: "The stars rule our lives. The gods placed them as beacons to light the path to truth. Our fate can be found in the constellations and the planets traveling through them, if we interpret the signs properly."

"But how can tiny lights in the night sky change events here on earth?"

"The gods don't explain their mysterious powers. We simply must be wise enough to discern their message."

I pressed on: "What about tossing bones? Don't they fall differently with every throw?"

"Yes, but only the first toss, after deep prayer, reveals the future."

"Well, why didn't the stars and bones foretell the drought?"

"I don't know. I erred. But Zakarus had died and I could not consult with him to discover my mistake."

I excused myself. I saw that conversation between us was unlikely to bring enlightenment.

Before long, Augur became fast friends with Admer, the devout young slave who prayed by the creek. We often saw them together drawing star diagrams in the dirt, tossing bones, and murmuring prayers with their eyes closed. One evening they were grim-faced and silent. They sat apart from the rest of us. I approached Admer and asked if there was a problem. Admer looked to Augur with his eyebrows raised. Augur nodded, giving permission for the youth to disclose their secret.

"The stars and bones say the end of the world is coming," Admer said solemnly. "Time is very short. Just four days hence, during the half moon, doomsday will bring the end of time."

I stared at them. I didn't laugh because I didn't want to hurt their feelings. It was clear that they were quite sincere.

"That's astounding news," I said. "Shall I inform the others?"

"No," Augur said. "It wouldn't change the outcome and it might cause panic. There is nothing we can do except prepare ourselves through prayer."

I thanked them and promised to remain silent.

The half moon came, and went. Nothing happened. Village life proceeded as usual. I waited several more days before I told Octos about the ridiculous prophecy. He cackled and shook his head.

"No prophet ever foresaw anything," he said, "yet they never stop looking for magical signs."

However, the failed prophecy, along with the multitudes of prayers and sacrifices that produce nothing, caused me to confront my religious dilemma again. A couple of evenings later I approached my mentor for another theology session.

"Octos, if astrologers are silly, and gods are fairy tales, and priest explanations of the world are nonsense, what is the real answer? Why are we here? Why do we die? Why do the heavens roll forever? What made the stars and the earth? Is there a purpose? Is there a meaning?"

The grizzled slave eyed me keenly.

"You still are pondering the ultimate question. It's the riddle nobody can solve. Priests claim to know divine answers, but they speak gibberish. Wise thinkers have debated this puzzle for eons, but they find no solution, just perplexity. An honest person can say only: I don't know. That isn't a satisfying answer, but it is the only one you can say truthfully."

Several days later, as Octos and I sat on the creek bank at dusk, he delivered another profundity, a more lighthearted one.

"Melos, I will tell you a great truth: All men are ridiculous. All men. Not just sappy astrologers and chumps with magical amulets around their necks, but you, me, and the rest. We're all absurd."

He paused, then continued:

"Women can see it. Deep inside, they laugh at us. They know we are idiots."

After a moment, he added:

"I suppose that women are ridiculous too, in their own way. But they're so strange, so mysterious to us, that I really don't know anything about women."

I mulled over his sarcastic observation. It seemed wise, but I wasn't quite sure. I could think of no reply. We sat quietly in the gathering dusk. Then he lurched onto his crutch and hobbled into the slave quarters to bed.

29

Like many pious people, Admer was prim about sex. His prudery became obvious to his bawdy slave companions, who teased him. On the rare evenings when he was ordered to an Amazon bed, lewd ex-soldiers derided him at dinner: "Admer, just pretend that she's a temple hooker and you're doing it for the gods." Or: "Relax, Admer. A curvy woman is the finest creation of the deities, so pay your respects.'

Sanctimonious people seem comical to regular folks. But I think they're also sad, torn between their natural human desires and guilts imposed by religion. The depth of Admer's inner torment soon was to be revealed.

* * *

Most Amazons once were mistreated possessions of Greek men, and now the order is reversed: the men are possessions. It's remarkable that the women don't inflict retaliatory cruelty on us. Instead they show a certain indulgence.

One evening, when I hoped to cling to Litha, I was summoned instead to the familiar arms of the sturdy construction chief. She grinned as I knocked at her bedchamber. She peeled off her robe in the lamp glow and pulled me to her ample body. But she added a caution:

"Don't give me a baby or I will break your scrawny neck." At her order, I withdrew at the last moment and finished her with my fingers. She shuddered and gasped, then sank limp on her pallet.

Unlike my ecstatic ritual with the priestess in a lashing storm, this was another time when I felt that my sex-on-command duty was more work than pleasure.

* * *

Sometimes I wondered if pregnant Amazons who bore male babies grieved when the boys were sent to slave traders after being weaned. In private, Litha, Mitha and I pondered this question, but we couldn't reach a conclusion. Amazons were well-disciplined, rarely showing any painful feelings.

As for girl babies, their lives followed this pattern: At first, each newborn slept beside her mother's pallet, suckling frequently. New mothers were spared part of their warrior training and work assignments during the nursing phase. When the girls were big enough to toddle and eat solid food, they spent days in a playroom tended by a kindly matron. The mothers resumed full daytime duty and slept by their daughters at night. The whole village raised each girl. All women cooed and patted the tots, yet it was understood that this intimacy slowly would recede under the colony's communal lifestyle tinged with military regimentation. At age six, the children moved into a girls' building headed by a firm supervisor, and ceased living with their mothers.

One of the small girls was Deena, five-year-old daughter of Astelle, the chief baker. Deena was adorable, scampering barefoot around the village. Chirping earnestly, she often engaged us male slaves in discussions about winking fireflies, rainbows, croaking frogs, and other wonders. The whole colony loved Deena.

One afternoon, as Admer and I split firewood for the bakery oven, we heard children screaming near the creek. Deena had climbed among rocks, where a deadly adder bit her on the leg. An older girl killed the snake with a stone. Deena's mother became frantic. Admer and I carried the child to the bakery and attempted to suck out the poison. Deena seemed numb, and shivered. Admer fell to his knees, kissed his amulets, and prayed fervently for her. Amazons came running from many directions. Eila the priestess took command.

"We must offer sacrifice so Hera will save her," she barked. "Prepare a white goat."

Younger Amazons ran up the valley with a leather rope and returned leading the bleating goat. Admer and I scrubbed it spotless in the creek. Women braided a garland of flowers for its neck. The bewildered animal was led to Hera's altar.

While Amazons performed the sacrifice, Admer and I remained with the circle around the sinking girl. She seemed paralyzed and her arms fell limp. The priestess returned in her headdress and recited intense prayers over Deena: "Mighty Hera, queen of goddesses, we have given you a fine offering. Please show your infinite mercy by sparing this innocent one."

The child became unconscious. Her mother sobbed while other women held her. My soul sank as it became clear that Deena was growing lifeless. Eventually there was no breath or heartbeat. Tragic silence fell over the group. After a painfully long time, Leeantha brought a wooden box and the little body was lifted into it. Deena was carried to the bonfire site by the Amazon pool. As dusk came, a fire was lit and mourners surrounded the small coffin.

It was a morbid night. Little was said by any of us, Amazons, slaves or children. Litha and I sat on a bench near the slave quarters, holding each other silently, feeling sick as we watched the grieving circle in the flickering firelight.

Next morning, Admer and I were sent to dig a small grave on the knoll. He was silent, wearing a strained look. When I spoke to him, he seemed not to hear me. We left and Amazons conducted Deena's burial.

That evening as Litha and I walked by the creek, we saw Admer in the distance. He was not kneeling in prayer this time. He stood pressing his fists against his head. As we approached, he removed his sacred amulets from his neck and flung them into the creek. He turned to us with a distraught face.

"I've been an imbecile. A dolt."

Litha put her hand on his arm. I started to speak, but he blurted:

"All these years I've prayed to Zeus endlessly. And I've slept with his holy amulets around my neck. And when I was young, my family made sacrifices every month and visited oracles. We were the most devout family in our village. But for what? It's a waste, because it's all make-believe. The gods aren't real. I've been a fool. I feel like killing myself."

"Wait, Admer," I began, but he rushed onward:

"The sacrifice and prayers for Deena did nothing. There was no goddess to help her. And what kind of gods would make adders to kill little girls, anyway? It's all fairy tales. It was stupid of us to think that gods would come to her rescue."

He paused, then continued:

"Augur's Doomsday prediction was another absurdity. We were idiots. I don't know how I could have believed such magic all my life. And remember Celeste, who died from her wounds while goats were sacrificed for her. Only morons would think that killing goats would cause goddesses to save her."

Another memory came to him:

"And remember the skeletons of the children who were sacrificed to the harvest goddess. Their deaths didn't make crops grow. It's horrible that parents killed their children for an imaginary god. Horrible. Horrible."

Litha hugged his shoulder and I held his hands. It seemed to calm him.

"Admer, don't feel upset," I said. "It's natural to believe, because everyone tells you that gods are real. All the kings and priests and assemblymen and bards and generals and village leaders. From the time you're born, they praise the gods every day. It's normal to accept it."

He looked at me sourly. "It wasn't normal for you and Octos. You weren't sucked in. Why was I?"

"Well, a few of us are misfits," I assured him. "Octos and I don't belong among regular folks. We're outsiders."

I felt pity for the devout young man who had lost his faith. It was painfully touching. Admer was quiet a while. Then he concluded:

"I think I have become an outsider too. I'll never pray again or lead another sheep to the altar. If I did, I would see Deena's face and know that invoking the gods is folly."

I groped for words to soothe him. "Admer, nobody knows why adders wait to kill little girls. All we know is that nature can be horribly cruel. We don't know why it's cruel; we simply must live with it, trying to keep children as safe as possible."

We didn't want to leave him alone by the creek. Litha took his hand and we walked back to the slave quarters together as the sun was setting. Luminous red streaks filled the western sky. Within myself, I felt that the sun also was setting on Admer's life of piety.

30

Oona was the shortest and smallest Amazon warrior, yet she was known for her feisty spirit. In combat she darted like a hornet among male soldiers and her sting was as painful.

Twice she summoned me to her bed at night, and each time was a rowdy romp. She pinned me face-up and rode astride me with exuberance, her breasts bouncing. We laughed together as we fell into exhaustion.

She had been raised in a Greek colony on the Black Sea coast, daughter of a farm laborer. When she was fourteen, she was sent to marry a forty-year-old man whose first wife had died of plague. Oona's father could afford only a small dowry, so her new master felt that he had received cheap goods and treated her accordingly.

The husband, a builder, eventually moved to an easterly colony, taking all his possessions, including Oona. As their caravan proceeded along the coast, it suffered a midnight raid by Amazons. The builder ran off into the dark with the guards. Left behind, Oona begged to join the victorious women. They welcomed her and, despite her smallness, subsequently let her enter warrior training. She was deemed somewhat a mascot among the fighters, although she was as lethal as the rest.

One evening at dusk, Oona dressed as a boy and departed on a brief assignment: to fetch a runaway girl from the two-vine sanctuary outside the village halfway down the Thermodon Valley. She rode one horse and led another for the newcomer. But they didn't return by dawn and the colony worried that something was wrong.

When they hadn't arrived by noon, the council held an emergency meeting. I recorded the assembly's decision: If Oona wasn’t back by dark, a second warrior would be sent with orders to approach the two-vine home cautiously and try to learn what had happened. Nightfall came with no trace of the missing fighter.