Island of Fire (The Age of Bronze) (25 page)

More than one Ak’áyan whispered the question that disturbed them still more. “If Mother Diwiyána cannot or will not protect her most sacred shrine, what hope is there for us, her homeless children?”

Qérayan stared at his fellow countrmen in disbelief. “What is the matter with all of you?” he demanded angrily. “It was only another fortress that was sacked, you know. Qoyotíyans may have died there, but not the twice-born god himself, you must realize! The priestess herself is still alive, too. So is the sacred spirit that inhabits the sanctuary. What are all of you grieving for? Do none of you have any faith in Lord Diwonúso?”

Neither Dáuniya nor Diwoméde had full confidence in the prophecy that they had heard in the cave above. But the Italian woman spoke strongly, nevertheless. “I witnessed the sibyl’s trance with my own eyes and ears. Diwiyána and her calf pointed the way to us, and that is the truth, my people. We are to sail to the west. Is that not right, Diwoméde?”

The
qasiléyu
nodded. Still, he could not bring himself to meet all those troubled eyes.

“Then, how is it,” Ainyáh demanded, coming forward, filled with suspicion rather than with fear, “how is it that Qérayan has given us the answer of the priestess? If there is no citadel to protect the shrine, there must be no oracle either. What did you three do all that time, last night? Were you tossing knuckle bones?”

With an exasperated air, Dáuniya answered, “Certainly not! The priestess has just gone a little further up the mountain. The Díwiya consults the god in a cave now.”

Qérayan, annoyed at being upstaged, broke in. With boundless enthusiasm and sweeping gestures, he described the ceremony they had witnessed in the cavern. Distress soon gave way to awe at the power of the seeress and renewed optimism at the divine message. The fainting charioteer began to come to his senses as the young emissary told his tale, too. This apparent restoration of the “dead” man to life further encouraged the spirits of the little band.

After replenishing their supplies of water, the refugees turned their longboats back to the west and then north again, toward the land of Párpara, beyond the northernmost kingdom of Ak’áiwiya. They spent little time on the sea through those last days of their journey. Having consumed all of their stored foodstuffs, they were forced to come ashore well before nightfall, each day, to give them time to forage. Sometimes they found wild goats, rabbits, or water birds. More often, though, they had only a handful of greens to cook for the day’s meal. Their strength and stamina wore thin, along with their limbs. The distance they traveled shrank with the passing days. The women’s encouraging songs grew shorter. The younger children began to fall ill, one after another. Still, hope’s flame burned in their hearts. They would winter in fabled Párpara, they told one another. Shelter – and food – were close at hand.

Nevertheless, tensions remained high and fear was ever present. Cooking a few fish that they had caught one evening, Dáuniya broached the subject with Mélisha. “I do not like the way that things are going,” the younger woman confided. “Ainyáh was never overly talkative. But with every promontory and inlet that we sail past now, he becomes more taciturn. He touches his amulet constantly. He must be expecting something terrible ahead, something that we do not know about.”

“I do not think it is the amulet that he is touching,” Mélisha said, looking right and left to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. “I think it is his chest that he is putting his hand to. He coughs without bringing anything up. He holds his head a little to one side, most of the time. It is as if his arm, or perhaps his neck, gives him pain. I think he must have some illness that is sapping his strength. He never mans an oar anymore. Askán has to steer and call the cadence both, now, poor boy.”

The Italian woman listened pensively, glancing over her shoulder several times toward where Flóra lay, sleeping fitfully. “You may be right. But Odushéyu is the one who worries me the most,” she sighed. “That pirate is using Ainyáh’s silence to curry more favor among the other members of our party.
Ai
, he is so loud, too! He wants everyone to hear about all the exploits of his youth. He tells of clever stratagems that gained him the best horses in Assúwa, of the sweet lies he used to seduce a dozen princesses in as many different kingdoms, of the unearthly warriors he has battled from the four corners of the world. He says that he has faced and beaten the legendary Kuklóq, the one-eyed giant who keeps the flocks of the gods. If the goddess herself had not stopped him, he would have carried off the golden-fleeced rams of Artémito! Or so he claims. As for myself, I know that he is a liar, but he is so brazen about it, everyone else is ready to believe every story he tells!”

Mélisha shook her head in disgust. “No lie is too far-fetched for that old wine-sack to tell! He has no shame. Did you hear the one about how his cleverness outwitted the malevolent sphinx of Mízriya?
Ai
, it was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! With her bird’s claws, the poor sphinx scratched her human cheeks and breasts, bewailing her fate, when he had successfully answered all of her riddling queries. Drawing word pictures of Kanaqán’s riches, he speaks of magnificent temples and palaces that he pillaged. A person would believe he had actually been to that distant land! Askán has come within a thumb’s breadth of killing him, more than once, after such a tale, claiming that the old sailor must have killed the boy’s kinsmen in Kanaqán while he was there! But, pirate though he is, he has a way with words, you must admit. With each elegant turn of phrase, half-speaking, half-singing, he lists wondrous treasures he has carried off from far-away lands. It quite takes my breath away sometimes, even though I ought to know better.”

“Mélisha!” Dauniya cried. “How can you say that? Have you not noticed how Qérayan and some of the other young men have begun to follow Odushéyu around, hanging on those honeyed words? I am afraid that before long they will suggest that the pirate should be our leader instead of Ainyáh. I have already heard Qérayan say that Odushéyu is wiser than Ainyáh, stronger than Diwoméde, and more widely traveled than Peirít’owo. Ainyáh just ignores such comments, never even acknowledging them. Diwoméde actually seems to welcome the respite from the attention given him. But it is not good for men to follow an adventurer such as Odushéyu, not good at all!”

The older woman smiled.
“Ai
, do not worry so much. More than a few of us know that It’ákan too well to let him become our leader. T’érsite immediately argues with everything the old pirate says, when he hears what is going on anyway. My husband will see to it that Odushéyu does not take command. You will see. T’érsite checks Odushéyu’s every statement with those who have been to a place before and whose character is less suspect. I am sure that Odushéyu will soon go too far and will strangle himself with his own lies. In the meantime, Peirít’owo and Askán have the pleasure of seeing their own status and popularity steadily rise, too.”

“That might be true,” the young woman admitted. “Still, I cannot help worrying. Flóra is sick and hardly suckles anymore. She is always fretting and I cannot give Diwoméde the attention he needs because I must constantly rock the baby. Then there is St’énelo. He has been to be on the verge of death ever since we left Put’ó. He is the closest thing we have to a priest or seer and his loss would harm us all greatly. I did not tell you before because I did not want to frighten you, but the priestess at Put’ó did not have the power to purify me, either.”

Mélisha put a hand on the other woman’s sun-darkened shoulder. “Now, now, Qérayan told us all about the rites in the cave. It all sounds perfectly respectable to me. The Díwiya surely knew whether you were impure, even if she did not know about the matter of the mirror. Still, she gave us the gods’ blessing. Do not give the matter another thought. We will soon be in Párpara and then everything will be better. This is the White Island, according to T’érsite. This will be our last night on Ak’áyan soil. Before nightfall tomorrow, we will cross into Párpariyan territory. Only a handful of our number know that land. It is natural for the others to be fearful at such a time. But the end of our journey is near. Then we shall all have time to rest and recuperate. Everything will begin to improve shortly, you will see.”

As the travelers dined on a meager meal of wild onions and a bit of fish, Odushéyu addressed his companions. He tossed a handful of dry grass onto the campfire, warning, “We must be careful in Párpara. Ainyáh may not have told you, but there are dire threats to every man’s health and every woman’s virtue among those barbarian tribesmen. The locals are only half human, at best. After all, what can you expect this far north? These people are not the children of the great goddess, Diwiyána, but are wild creatures of Artémito!” He paused briefly to enjoy the gasps of his frightened audience.

“Yes,” the pirate went on. “The light of the full moon transforms them into beasts every twenty-eight days. The men are always as randy as goats, those that are not as vicious as wolves!” He bent low, pressing his hands to his knees, his beard quivering with the passion of his full voice. The women drew back against the shoulders of their menfolk at that prediction and description and the nervous men tried to shield their wives and daughters from the threatened danger.
“Ai
, the women of Párpara are scarcely any better! The women become winged horses, galloping off into the sky, to carry their divine mistress on her ghostly hunt. We will have to guard ourselves well.” His voice had risen as loud as a shout, but now it dropped nearly to a whisper. The crowd drew in close so as to hear every word. “There is nothing the Párpariyan men like better than to abduct people of uncommon beauty, whether female…or male! The laws of civilized society mean nothing to them, nothing!”

St’énelo’s shrunken limbs shook especially hard as he announced, “I have heard about these tribesmen and their love of drunkenness and debauchery. Is it true that the Párpariyans eat grass and herbs? Are they like sheep?”

Qérayan quickly answered before the It’ákan could so much as take another breath. “My mother said that they tear wild animals limb from limb with their teeth and they devour the meat raw!” Nervously poking at the last bit of charred herring in his wooden bowl, he asked the speaker, “Will we be able to keep our women safe?”

The former king shook his balding head vigorously and frowned. “It will be very difficult, my boy, terribly difficult, I tell you. But I have dealt with such untamed beasts once before, already. So, do not let your hearts and courage fail you. Do not despair. In the great Tróyan war, I alone could face the
Kentáuro
hordes that allied themselves with the Tróyans. It was not just my unparalleled strength, nor my skill with archery, either. No, I worked powerful magic, too. So, keep watch with me tonight and I will teach you my most ancient and secret lore. I will show you how to make an impenetrable line with your shields and spears. In addition, I will teach you the incantations, the songs that will protect your bodies from harm, be your enemies mortal or immortal.”

T’érsite snorted, barely pausing in his chewing. “Some secrets! I saw you there at Tróya. All you did was tell the men to stand in line. Then you taught them a silly song about melting wax.
Ai gar
, if the men had not been half out of their minds from drinking the syrup of the poppy…”

“Ask Diwoméde if you do not believe me!” Odushéyu cried, interrupting the low-born Argive. “He is no laborer, no son of a domestic billy-goat! The
qasiléyu
remembers the
Kentáuroi
, I am sure. He can vouch for the efficacy of my strategies and my spells.
Idé
, you cannot listen to T’érsite’s grumbling, my friends. He spent most of the war hiding in his tent!”

Mélisha spoke sharply at that. “I have heard more than I care to about Tróya! That cursed city is nothing but a pile of stones lying on a dried out plain now, with a pile of corpses strewn around it for decoration. The less said about it from now on, the better, I say! There is no need to trouble our
qasiléyu
about that subject, either. Let us ask Peirít’owo. I happen to know that he has been to Párpara several times already. He can tell us what the people are like if anyone can.”

“
Ai
, that traitor?” Odushéyu bellowed indignantly. “How can you believe anything that dog howls about? His own mother copulated with a Párpariyan bull! Everyone has heard the story of Kep’túr’s queen and her unholy lust! People as far south as It’áka tell stories about that mad woman and the various
dáimons
she lay with. She bedded a wicked god called Pan, the father of all Préswa’s evil daughters. Their oldest is the blood-sucking
Lámiya
who comes to men at night, causing evil dreams. Then there is Mormó, the devourer of small children, and Siréne, who lures men to their deaths at sea. They had a son, too, an ugly monstrosity worse than all of his sisters, a being like a man, but with the horns and hooves of a goat. He haunts every shepherd’s hearth and sends panic to scatter the flocks of sheep in the mountains.”

The women, by this time, were squealing with horror at the very idea of these dreadful children and the sexual proclivities of their reportedly human mother, a kinswoman of one of their own number! The men began to wonder aloud at the character of the young Kep’túriyan who had accompanied them, reminding one another of his violent temper, his tendency to argue with everyone about everything, and his obvious preference for the company of Assúwans and Kanaqániyans over his fellow Ak’áyans. It was all terribly suspicious, but here was an explanation that made sense, at last. Was it possible that, perhaps, a little of some
dáimon’s
blood flowed in Peirít’owo’s veins, too?