RCG-I Seasonal Salon
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When Destiny Walked the LabrynthChapter 4: Phoebe and RheanaThe Festival of Grapes arrives after harvest. It is a particularly sweet time to live on the blessed isle of Kriti. The rains of Cronetide are but a thought drifted to the future, the nights are cool and soft and the sun shines not so intently, even in the hours immediately after midday. This turn’s Festival of Grapes is even more special because it is the seven-turns fest. Every seven turns, the Festival in Knossos becomes the premiere gathering site across the entire island. Boats large and small crowd the small harbor, not at ruined Amnisos this time but to the west, at another close bay. It is not as convenient, but it is not wise to spit in the face of fate. Relatives not kissed for many turns are embraced, news is announced in full-bodied voices accompanied by excited arm gestures. Babes are fussed over, children soon tire of the exclaimed, “How tall!” “How beautiful!” Of course, as is true in the lives of humans, the specter of grief is also present. “La, la,” is clicked on the tongue. “He was too young, she was so beloved; I am sorrowed.” Yet, all know that Great Meter holds cuddles them to Her generous breast. At the seven-turns Fest, the Priesera gather from all across the island, too. They travel from the University plain in the Psilitis Mountains of the South, from far Phaistos on the coast of the Libyan sea, fair Zakros of the east. From the caves come even the seers, the strange ones with their wild eyes and loud exclamations. Always they seem old, but perhaps this is illusion only, for the seers are touched at an early age, it is told, and are marked for hearing especial Her voice from the Under and the In. The traders, too, come from places far away to sell at the grand marketplace at Knossos center, also called the Agronos. They sail from noble Libya and from Egypt, land of the cat peoples, hard Asia Minor, beautiful Athena, sometimes even from farther, as the threads of fate guide. They offer for trade polished gems and rich gold, exotic cloth of silk in rainbow colors, dainty sweets, fragrant perfumes – all manner of luxuries not often encountered in daily Kritin life. And of course, with them they bring, (and often for free), tales of the wider world. There are new rulers in Egypt; coarse shepard kings. “Not good, not good”, murmurs the Egyptian papyrus trader. Though his words are familiar, his emphasis is odd to the Kritin ear. He waves his hands in a gesture of rejection, palms out, and will not say more of the Southern nation from which he hails. There is talk of larger and larger gatherings of women warriors from the east. Fair of face they are, yet fierce in demeanor. They are friendly with the traders, but keep their distance. They keep their thoughts to themselves. Some come to the festival trading in hides, cloth and pretty stones. They smell strongly of horse – animals rare but not unheard of upon the Kritin homeland. Whispers come too from Athena, neighbor and sometimes friend of the Kritin people. The Queen, called a Helen, rarely appears to the public, takes only her own counsel and meditates deeply – now the gossiper invariably lowers his or her voice even further – perhaps too deeply, with the Goddess of Poppies. The Poppy Goddess is a dangerous one to claim as a personal deity. The soul can be lost within Her sweet embrace. Yet the faces of the traders break into unbidden smiles at the mention of the new consort to Helen Demetria, young Theseus. “Brave he is,” they say, “a defender of Athena, one of Her own, truly.” Against what he defends, no one elaborates. It is not necessary to speak it aloud. Everyone knows of the danger, the shadow lurking on the outskirts of the land of the People; wandering bands of marauders. Some bands are just a few large strangers. Others are a force, nearly an army. They are rich with horses and wear strange skins as clothes and hard helmets upon their pale heads. Their weapons shatter bronze. It is a matter of grave concern. The GranMeters shake their heads sadly. The safety of the land is threatened. “Close your eyes and lean forward.” Phoebe compliantly offered her face as the gooey whitish cream was slathered over it in brisk circular motions. It smelled fresh and felt cool against her warm skin. “What is in this concoction, anyway?” Rheana asked as she dunked her hands in the warm bath water to wash the cream off. Fluffy white island dollops floated off her immersed fingers. They lazily drifted away from the women who were seated facing each other in a large sunken bath. The bath took up the entire marble paneled room. It took most of a morning to fill even with Kriti’s famed indoor plumbing. It was a testament to Phoebe’s status that she and her apprentice, Rheana, could have the bath to themselves. Phoebe leaned back carefully against the side of the pool where she was submerged shoulder deep. The white marble lined tub wall felt cool and slick against her skin, and when she moved, the fragrance of jasmine wafted to her nostrils from the scented water. She inhaled deeply before answering. “Oh, I don’t know really, some medicinals, cream, honey, perhaps something to soften skin, I suppose. “And here I thought my esteemed teacher knew everything.” Water splashed hollowly as Rheana began to wring the creamy stuff from her hands. Phoebe shrugged slightly. “Sorry. An herbalist I never was.” A blob of the sticky mixture slid to her upper lip, and she licked at it tentatively. “At least this one tastes good. How long do I have to keep it on?” “The herbalist said one-third hour.” “Ugh. Ah well, it is worth it. The sun does terrible things to your skin as you age. But, of course, you need not worry about this yet, Rheana. You are not much older than my Ansel. “I am five turns past Kore, Mistress.” “Young, indeed. Tell me, Rheana, did you always know you wished to be an Escort?” “Yes, from the time I was a little maid.” “I did not. When I was young like you and Ansel, I wanted to be noticed by the boys and have pretty clothes and be well liked. I couldn’t wait to be declared Kore and wear fancy dresses and be admired. I did not hear the call of Her until later.” “And now, Mistress, you are the Elder of Escorts in all of Knossos Center.” “Yes. Ironic, is it not? Although in my work I use many of the talents I developed before ever entering the, uh, the Escort school. Only now I use them with knowledge and intention.” Phoebe sighed, then wrinkled her nose, staunchly resisting the urge to rub where the cream was drying. “Do you know what my daughter Ansel calls my bath preparations? ‘Fish entrails; a waste of time and complete nonsense’. She is so very serious all the time, especially for a young girl. We are like mountains verses the sea: far, far apart.” “Ah, but Mistress, I hear that in the East, the mountains meet the sea. Someday she will understand.” “Perhaps. I am concerned for her, Rheana. Since the wave destroyed Amnisos, she does little but write in her apartment. She grieves as much for my brother as I. She is one to keep her pain to herself. I tried to speak with her about it once or twice, but she is not being open with me. She is of that age, you see, where I am regarded more with suspicion than with trust.” Phoebe gave in and lightly scratched her nose with a long fingernail. She inspected the finger for a moment then plunged her hand under water. “To be honest, I have worried about Ansel since before all this happened. She is alone too much. She had many friends around the Center when she was a little girl, but not in the last several turns. Do you know, sometimes she sneaks out of the Center late at night, all alone, and just walks around? I thought perhaps she was taken with a young man or girl, but no, she stays all alone.” “You follow her?” “Ah, Rheana, very little goes on here that I am not made aware of sooner or later, especially as concerns my daughter. I let her go and keep her secrets. Goddess will watch over her.” Rheana nodded. “Does she have any friends at all?” “Only little Geneera. You know, Priesera Vasilea’s youngest?” “The athletic one, yes, I have seen her at Gymnasia.” Phoebe leaned forward stretching the back of her legs momentarily then opened her eyes. The steam from the pool caused the plaster walls of the bathing chamber to drip with sweat. She stared thoughtfully at a painting on the far wall; carefree dolphins leapt through azure water, sea birds graced the air above them. “Now that I think of it, Ansel reminds me of Xeronos. “The Consort.” “Yes. He is a pondering soul, a man of solitude.” “Then she will turn out well, no? Consort Xeronos is both wise and honorable.” “Yes, I suppose I should not worry so.” The mural was so incredibly blue; blue of sky, blue of water, and searing blue-white where the sun reflected. Her nose itched again. “Isn’t it time for me to wash this gadesh off my face?” “A thousand pardons, Priesera.” Rheana waved her hand from forehead to heart in a circular motion, then pantomimed a genuflection, flicking water at Phoebe with her splayed fingers. “Yes, you can wash it off now.” Phoebe stuck out her tongue at her giggling student. “If you decide you don’t want to be an Escort, Rheana, consider an occupation in driving goats.” She dunked her face in the clear water then scrubbed at the congealed stuff with a square of linen. When finished, she said more seriously, “I do thank you for listening to my concerns, Rheana. But I must admonish you; even in private, even in jest, we must never call each other ‘Priesera’ here in the Center. It is too easy for it to slip out in public. People do not like to be reminded of who the Escorts really are. Besides, it serves our purposes.” Rheana nodded, suddenly serious. “Yes, Mistress, I understand. My apologies.” Rheana climbed out of the bathing pool. While dripping, she half walked and half slid on the marble tiles made slick with moisture, to a pedestal in the corner of the room. She wrapped herself in a thick woven towel she grabbed from a stack, then offered some to Phoebe who also pulled herself from the water. Cotton was an expensive import from the south, but it was well worth it! Shaking a towel loose from its folds, Phoebe rubbed her wet hair to dampness. She twisted a second towel around her waist and padded carefully out of the humid bath chamber into the adjacent dressing room. She heard Rheana’s footsteps echoing behind. The small room felt pleasantly cool after the steamy bath. The walls of leaping dolphins were replaced with numerous sketches of the holy double-bladed ax, the labrys. Phoebe picked up an ornately carved ivory comb from the dressing table and handed it to Rheana with an audible sigh as she sat on a cushioned stool. Rheana began to pick through Phoebe’s hair with the comb. Phoebe winced as she struck upon a tangle. “Ai. Why does my hair turn into mattes of kri kri fur whenever I bathe?” “Truly, Madam, you have the hair of the ocean people -- locks of seaweed.” “But luckily I have you to work your magic with it.” Rheana circled in front of Phoebe and dropped in an overly elaborate curtsy. “At your service, Mistress.” “Seriously, though, I’m scheduled to meet the retinue from Athena directly after eresti. Their boat has already docked and they are being escorted here late this morn. As it cycles, I am to have an assignment for the Festival after all.” “Oh, I am sorry. I know you hoped to be free this Festival. Will you still be able to attend Ansel’s Kore ritual?” “Yes. I hope to slip away for that, though if absolutely necessary, I will ask Xeronos to go in my stead. This assignment came up rather suddenly, and the Council specifically requested I attend to it.” “It must be something important, then.” “Yes, very possibly. We thought Helen Demetria of Athena was coming alone, but fate wove otherwise, and her Consort is accompanying her. I am to be his Escort.” “He will not spend his time with the Helen?” “Not hardly. It seems Helen Demetria and her new Consort do not care for one another’s company. In fact, they are rumored to loathe one another.” “How interesting. I thought as Helen, she could pick and choose as she liked. Can she not rid herself of him?” “Apparently she would find herself facing turbulent winds with her people. The Consort, Theseus, is reputedly well-loved by the people of Athena. Demetria, alas, is not.” “So I have heard. At school, I once heard her called the sea prickle of Athena; ugly, slow and dangerous to come upon unguarded.” Phoebe felt her intended grin turn to a grimace. “Yes, I have heard that one, too. She is a worshipper of the Goddess of Poppies. The Houri of the Temple at Athena say she becomes ever more devoted to the mekoi, the essence of poppy, and ever less to her people.” “And there is nothing the Athenians can do since she is a hereditary monarch. How sad for them. Kriti is twice blessed for the Council.” Rheana shook her head and clicked her tongue. “But what is so important about this Consort that the Council assigns you to escort him instead of an apprentice?” “There are some on the Council who wonder if mayhap this Consort is a threat to us. I am to determine if there is any truth to this.” “A threat to us? How so?” “He is a Warrior Consort and an unknown entity. It has happened before in lands not far from here where a warrior fights his way into power, then finds the life of a Consort exceedingly dull. Bored war-mongers are dangerous folk.” “I can well imagine.” “As head of the Athenian army, Consort Theseus has already forcibly annexed all of the small towns and villages around Athena. The people of Athena love him for it, and why not? They get more resources. He brings glory to Athena. Bah!” Rheana, finished with combing out Phoebe’s heavy locks, opened a carved wooden box began sorting through the hair baubles and ornate pins it contained. “Hmmm. He is undoubtedly a change for the better as far as the Athenians are concerned.” “He likely has some personal charm as well. They call him a hero. Demetria was never a strong Helen and her power wanes the more she gives herself to her obsession. She is not being watchful of the actions of this Consort. Perhaps she underestimates him. If he grows more restless and more bold, who knows where his roaming eye will turn next?” “And now they both come to Kriti for the Festival. Do we know why?” “Demetria, yes. Her favorite trader is a renowned supplier of mekoi products. He is from Egypt and visits our area infrequently, but he will be present at the marketplace. She matronizes him whenever she can. As for why Theseus has chosen to accompany her, we do not know. Perhaps he just wishes for relief from his boredom. But it is a five-day sail from Athena to Kriti. Is his boredom so great that he would choose to sail with Demetria for so long? I should think even the largest craft would force them to be closer than either desires.” “If anyone can uncover the truth it is you, Mistress.” Phoebe half smiled as Rheana finished elaborately adorning her still-damp hair with strings of tiny white beads and spiral shells. “So the Council thinks.” Phoebe scrutinized her reflection in a mirror of highly polished silver. “You have done a lovely job, Rheana. I thank you also for your ear and your confidence. I may need your assistance again this evening after the feast.” “Of course, Mistress Phoebe.” The young woman bowed her head respectfully and left the bathing room while Phoebe picked up a charcoal pencil and began outlining her eyes. Copyright by the Kassandra Sojourner ~ All rights reserved |
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