Amazon Moon (5 page)

I was small in stature, but I began working in the fields alongside my father at age six and by ten was considered a full laborer. Occasionally we hoed and raked with my grandfather or my two uncles, also Aegolus field hands. The men often visited our home or met Father and me during sacrifices at the shrine. But their women remained invisible within their homes, in keeping with custom. I listened to the men discuss many things. They said some other Greek farms used slaves for labor, but the Octavolas preferred to hire freemen, thus avoiding the cost of armed guards and the risk of a slave uprising.

"Besides," Uncle Kartos said sourly, "they pay us so little that we are barely above slaves."

In spare hours I helped Grandfather with chores such as repairing the leaky thatch of his roof. He was a wise old man who taught me wonders of nature. We discussed the perfect patterns of spiderwebs, and the delicious smell of sassafras roots, and rainbows that appear only on rainy days when the sun emerges behind you, and the playful habits of otters raising their babies in creekbank burrows. He pointed out the faithfulness of male and female duck pairs swimming side by side. In the dark, on the creekbank, he showed me foxfire, the mysterious glow in rotting logs.

To record the seasons, Grandfather and I watched the shadow of the porch roof on the outer wall of his home. When the shadow reached its lowest point on the wall—at midsummer, the longest day, when the sun was highest—we marked the shadow's location by scratching a notch in the wall. When the shadow reached its high point—at midwinter, the shortest day, when the sun was lowest—we did likewise. Thereafter, we observed the progression of the year by watching the roof shadow migrate upward and downward between the notches.

Grandfather explained the cycle of the moon: The new moon begins as a sliver in the western sky after sunset, then grows thicker and more easterly each successive night, until it becomes a full disk in the east, then fades again. Each cycle requires nearly thirty days, and recurs more than a dozen times a year. The moon's travels are contrary: she moves westward across the sky each night, but appears more easterly each evening while waxing.

Grandfather taught me to find the North Star, the only heavenly object that doesn't move; it remains fixed while the rest of the night sky slowly wheels around it. He also showed me the strange exceptions: five traveling stars that move across the others randomly, following the path of the sun and moon. We pondered these things as marvels.

At age eight, my religious instruction commenced. On holy days we village boys sat in rows by the shrine while the assistant priest explained the Pantheon. We memorized the Sacred Truths: The primordial gods created the heavens and earth. Gaea the Earth Goddess mated with her son Uranus and bore the Titan gods. Kronos, king of the Titans, castrated his father Uranus to prevent other sons from being born, rivals for the throne. Then Kronos ate his own children to prevent them from usurping his power. One of his sons, Zeus, escaped and led other gods in overthrowing the Titans. Zeus castrated Kronos and became king of gods atop Mount Olympus. Some gods fought each other, murdered each other, seduced each other, raped each other, devoured each other, and occasionally impregnated human women.

The Sacred Truths were awesome. We boys shook our heads at the fearful behavior of invisible deities. Our teacher explained that if we prayed fervently and burned sacrifices to please the gods, they would favor us with abundant lives and victory in war. We were required to memorize prayers and recite as follows:

"Mighty Zeus, nature's great Sovereign, ruling all by law, from Thee was our begetting; ours alone, of all that live and move upon the earth, the lot to bear God's likeness. For Thee, this whole vast cosmos, wheeling round the earth, obeys. Zeus, thou giver of every gift, who dwellest within the dark clouds, wielding the flashing stroke of lightning, save, we pray, Thy children from this boundless misery. Scatter, O Father, the darkness from our souls."

We were instructed to chant the prayers each night before bed. I did so, at first. But after a few nights, I felt uncertain. I decided to pray harder, more earnestly. Yet questions crowded into my mind, making me feel awkward as I chanted. Eventually I stopped praying at home at night.

Many evenings, I had time with other boys. When I was twelve, I was befriended by the Overseer's son, Rectus, age fourteen, who lived only a few paces from my home. We climbed hills, hunted hares with our slings, and talked for hours. Although Rek lived with wealth, servants and a tutor—and was learning to read, a skill unknown to common villagers—he treated me as an equal. Even though he was larger and stronger, he didn't tease me for my smallness as other village boys did. We became best friends.

I told Rek of the nature marvels I had learned from Grandfather. How strange it is, we agreed, that five stars don't remain fixed in the rotating sky, but move across, following the line traversed by the moon.

"My tutor says they are the wanderers, called planets," Rek related.

As we watched the night sky wheel slowly around the North Star, we learned to note the passage of the night by the changing positions of star figures. To track daytime, we fashioned a sundial similar to one at the Overseer's mansion, and watched the shadow of a stick tell the progression of the day.

I told Rek my concern about religion: "Do you think Zeus really wants goats and sheep stabbed to death on his altar, beside his statue, then burned? Why would He want that? If I were a god, I can't imagine that it would give me pleasure."

Rek nodded. "When my uncle visited from Kavopolis, he told of a great sacrifice to Eirene, the peace goddess. Eighty oxen were slain. Father said it was a waste of good draft animals, because it didn't bring peace. Greeks always are at war."

We pondered in silence. Then Rek added:

"My tutor says that long ago, they didn't just sacrifice animals, they sacrificed children."

"That's horrible!"

We shook our heads. We agreed to keep these thoughts to ourselves, lest the priest-plowman have us flogged at prayer time. Men of the village seemed grimly serious about religion.

"Do girls and women discuss such things as traveling stars and sacrificed goats?" I asked Rek.

"Of course not. My father says women can't think. That's why they never are taught, but stay home to cook and raise babies."

I mulled it over, unsure.

"My sister Tabina did something smart," I said. "After the women washed our clothing in the creek, they had trouble hanging the wet garments on high tree branches to dry. So Tabby made a long leather rope and put it over a limb. She hung laundry on it and pulled it up into the tree."

Rek shrugged, unimpressed.

We discussed the fascinating topic of sex and women's bodies. From older boys we had learned the fundamentals, but knew little else. The subject both tantalized and embarrassed us.

I began to notice differences in people. Some families are solemnly pious and their men pray daily at the shrine, while others enjoy laughter, wine-drinking and amusement-seeking. Among the latter, a clear example was Dolanther, the chief horse wrangler, who had a booming laugh. He lived at the outskirts of our village beside the creek. While other women stayed hidden within households, gossip spread that Dolanther sometimes permitted his wife and daughters to slip to the creek and bathe nude. I hid in bushes by the creek to observe, but no women appeared and I felt ashamed for peeping.

One evening Rek could barely contain himself. He had exciting news: he had crossed the magic threshold. For Rek's fifteenth birthday, his father had sent the younger concubine to his bedchamber to show him the ways of love. I was spellbound.

"It was wonderful," Rek said. "Her round breasts and smooth thighs made me wild. I kept her in my bed until I was exhausted. I don't know when she left, but I woke this morning alone."

I complained: "I'll never know what it's like. My home has no concubines."

Thereafter Rek regaled me with occasional reports about nights with his father's possession. I felt left out. He had advanced to manhood while I remained a boy.

Another time, Rek brought different news: His father had purchased two slave girls—sisters with rhyming names, Litha and Mitha—who had been captured from northern Slavs. They looked strange, with light-brown hair, Rek said. The younger, Litha, may be heading for trouble, he said, because she has defiance in her face, not displaying proper subservience.

Rek was right. Soon afterward, the village was abuzz because the Overseer ordered Litha flogged outside his gate for insubordination. Two big male slaves dragged her out, bound by leather straps, and forced her to kneel. While we boys and other villagers watched, the slaves began whipping her with slender poles. She shrieked. The Overseer commanded: "Careful! No scars. I want her unblemished in my bed." So they flailed the screaming girl with a degree of restraint.

I shuddered at each lash, then uncontrollably yelled "NO!" All eyes in the crowd looked at me. I felt clumsy, wondering if I had disgraced my family. The big slaves dragged the girl back inside the gate.

The flogging was the talk of the village for days. But then came more stunning news: One night, when the Overseer ordered Litha to his bed, she stabbed him in the abdomen with a food knife, nearly killing him. Then she and her sister fled into the dark with a donkey they secretly had laden with food in advance.

"They've gone to join the Amazons," Aunt Cloethe said.

"The who?" I asked.

"The Amazons. The runaway women. The rebel women. The fighter women."

I thought I detected a tinge of admiration in her voice. I had never heard of Amazons. "But how can the sisters find them? Where do they live?"

"Nobody knows," my aunt replied. "They attack, then vanish, and soldiers cannot track them."

The following evening, Rek said his father was feverish and in pain, but was expected to survive his knife wound. I recounted Cloethe's remark about Amazons. Rek said his family owned a painted vase from Athens with pictures of Greek soldiers fighting the female warriors.

"My father says they are sneak-attackers who raid caravans in the night, then disappear with the loot: horses, wagons and everything. Soldiers are sent to find them but they return empty-handed. And sometimes they don't return at all."

We felt amazed. Compared to the submissive, housebound, unseen, silent women of our village, the notion of female warriors seemed incredible.

Soon, conscriptors from Kavopolis returned to choose more Aegolus youths for the army. The Octavola owners had agreed that the military could take unmarried young men from their farm, but not married ones. The Octavolas were wise in business, and did not want the burden of supporting young widows and orphans left by deceased soldiers. Besides, everyone knew that single young males, full of brash aggression, make the most fearless fighters.

The conscriptors picked large, strapping youths, but shook their heads at me. Only the brawny were chosen to swing swords and throw javelins.

I felt puny and worthless. I seemed destined to spend my life as a field hand, like many village boys. But my father had higher hopes.

5

As Rek learned from his tutor, he showed me how to make some Greek letters and to spell my name. I practiced this strange craft, using a stick to mark in clay. My father saw it and a dream formed in his mind.

"You might become a scribe," he said proudly. "It would be a career of high status. Scribes don't sweat in the dirt all their lives or die on battlefields. They are privileged, serving the elite."

Unfortunately, I knew little except the dozen letters that Rek had taught me. Few among our village's farm workers had ever seen written words. But my father was determined. After the Overseer recovered sufficiently to resume watching over field work, Father humbly petitioned him. In glowing terms he praised my intelligence and said I was clever in speech. Father pointed out that Rek was fond of me and had begun teaching me words.

The Overseer promised to make inquiries among his Octavola cousins, as soon as one made a horseback visit to the farm. Later Rek told me that he encouraged his father on my behalf.

As we awaited a response to our request, my family discussed my future. Father proudly described how I would live among high officials, military commanders, priests, Assembly members, even princes, recording their important decrees. As he spoke, the women were quiet and I noticed Tabina watching me with jealousy in her eyes. Later, my sister, a year younger than I, spoke to me privately.

"Boys have exciting lives, while I have nothing."

"But, Tabby, that's the Greek way. Don't worry, you will have a good home."

"Not really. I'll be a possession. In two years, Father will find some old lecher and pay him a dowry to take me. Then I'll belong to him like a servant."

"Father loves you. He won't marry you to someone unkind."

"Maybe, but he can't afford much dowry."

"Be patient. Father will make sure your life is good."

Tabina brooded in silence, then continued:

"You can go into the world and find adventures, but we girls are prisoners. We must do what men command."

Her bitterness impressed me. This was the first time she had shown me such feelings. It made me pause and reflect on the ways of the world. Finally I answered:

"You're right, it's unfair. But I don't know what anyone can do about it."

She grinned bitterly at me.

"Maybe I'll run off and join the wild Amazons."

We both smiled ruefully and I hugged her.

* * *

Just before my fifteenth birthday, the happy news arrived. I was accepted to study among apprentices of the high scribe of Kavopolis. The Overseer provided an Octavola medallion for me to carry as the family's mark of approval upon me. On the morning of my departure, Mother and my sisters helped me pack clothing and food. Tabina looked both proud and resentful as she waved goodbye. Father and Uncle Kartos accompanied me to the edge of Aegolus, then I walked beside the chief harvester as he hauled a wagonload of beans to the city.