Serpent Goddess: The Horse Lords Book 1 Read online

  “Are there more of those things in the river?”

  The Ferryman did not reply only stared at him with blind glowing eyes.

  “Come on then, let’s get moving!” Grasping the tow rope Sava’s lithe lean body pitched in to speed the way.

  The current was silent and strong. It was hard work but in due time they reached the opposite shore. The nomad wasted no time jumping off the boat onto dry land. The stallion needed no encouragement either and leapt off the boat into the shallows with a thrashing splash.

  The vague purplish light of dusk still provided just enough light to make out a wide trail leading upriver. Sava mounted and rode on, looking for a place to camp. The wind that hailed the coming storm had abated.

  After a short way he spied two wagons drawn up in a clearing on the side of the trail. He pulled the horse up behind a tree to observe without being seen.

  They looked to be merchants headed upriver toward Gelonus. He counted seven people in all, two women, a man and four others who appeared to be servants and guards.

  Sensing it was safe enough Sava decided to make his presence known. He would have to pass them anyway. Riding into camp he raised his right hand, palm out in the universal gesture of peaceful greeting.

  “Hail friends, I mean no harm. I come as an emissary from Sauromatia. I bear an important message for the arkhons of Gelonus.”

  One of the strangers approached him, albeit cautiously. He was dressed in the Skythian style of trousers and kurta but his wavy dark hair was cut short in the Greek style.

  “What is your name and lineage?” He spoke in Skythian with a Greek accent.

  “I am Sava, son of Voivode Skopasis. I bear a message for our Geloni brothers from King Raymaxos.” He lifted his sleeve to reveal the gold armlet of a serpent with a sword in its mouth, symbol of Ah-Gin.

  “The gods must be with you Sava, son of Skopasis, for you have stumbled upon the right people.” The stranger spread his arms. “We are Geloni. I am Mikon, Arkhon of Gelonus. We are returning to Gelonus from Tanais.”

  “This is my wife, Damara.” Mikon slung an arm across the waist of an attractive, dark-haired, middle-aged woman. “And this is my daughter Kleo.” He laid a hand on the shoulder of a curvaceous young beauty who peered at Sava with sparkling brown eyes.

  Both Geloni women wore boots, trousers and kurtas in the Skythian way. However their lustrous black hair was artfully twisted up in the Greek style, leaving tendrils dangling around the face to accentuate long graceful necks.

  “You came all the way from Sauromatia way alone?” Mikon asked.

  “Aye. My party was attacked by raiders. Two were killed, the rest were wounded so I sent them home.”

  “And what is this vital message for which you take such great risk?”

  “King Darius has amassed a huge army to conquer Skythia. Already the Persians have crossed over the Bosporus on a bridge of boats and invaded Thrakia.”

  The Geloni emitted a repressed gasp. “We heard rumors in Tanais. But you hear many such things in a trading town.” Mikon said.

  “Not rumors. The Persian host will soon be here. King Idanthrysus has called for a great council of war to be held in Tanais. The Geloni are invited to attend.”

  “When?”

  “Two moons.”

  “Three arkhons govern Gelonus.” Mikon said. “You will need to come before them all. Even then the people will have to approve. I am sure there will be opposition. For the Geloni to join an alliance against Persia could mean our total destruction. You know how severely Darius punishes those who resist.”

  Envisioning the coming devastation of a war with Persia, Mikon exchanged a poignant look with his wife. He turned to Sava -

  “You must travel to Gelonus with us Sava. You will stay in our home as an honored guest. From Gelonus it is only a two day ride to the main camp of the Budini king, Konrad. We Geloni and Budini share the same territory and guard it together. But if you are looking for an alliance with the Budini, I would not go there to spit. The Budini are brave warriors but they never fight unless invaded.”

  “The Budini will not have to wait long for that.” Sava countered as he dismounted. “Your aide to a lost traveler will not be forgotten Mikon. From my heart I thank you.”

  “What a noble animal you have there,” Mikon’s eyes swept over the golden stallion. “I heard you Sauromatae breed outstanding horses. This is the first time I have seen one so fine.”

  “He is called Zlatna. I would not have made it this far without him. Hey boy?” Sava stroked the stallion’s long arching neck.

  “I see by the gold star on his brow band he has won a great race.”

  “Aye, he was champion of our 1,000 Mile Race.”

  “A thousand miles? I have heard of such races but never seen a champion before.” The potential profits in selling such horses to the Greeks danced in Mikon’s head. “Come I will show you where to tether your horse. We have grain and hay. He has carried you far and must be hungry. Then you will sit with us and eat some of Damara’s good cooking.”

  Mikon waved toward the campfire where a meat stew bubbled, saturating the air with mouth-watering scent.

  Chapter 10 – Rakia

  No man steps in the same river twice

  Because it is not the same river

  And he is not the same man -

  Heraclitus, Greek philosopher, c. 500 BC

  Sitting cross-legged around the campfire, Sava tried not to wolf down the stew, but his empty belly was voracious.

  “So, you like our food eh Sava?” Damara gave him a wry smile.

  The nomad’s hand paused as he was about to soak a piece of flat bread into the rich broth and dip up a tasty chunk of meat. His grease-smeared lips curved in a radiant white grin -

  “Never have I tasted such seasonings, such a tasty broth. In Sauromatia we are lucky to have salt to season our meat.”

  “We always make extra food and leave an empty place for a guest who may come unannounced,” Damara nodded, a twinkle in her eye.

  They ate in silence awhile, chomping and slurping as the sky darkened and the stars began revolving overhead.

  ”You speak Skythian with a Greek accent”. Sava commented. “Are you Geloni part Greek?”

  Mikon nodded. “We Geloni are mixed blood, Skythian and Greek.”

  “Greece is far from here. How came the Greeks all the way to Gelonus?” Sava was intent on learning more about his hosts, now that his belly was satisfied.

  “The Greeks came up the river Tanais in boats from the Euxine Sea. They came to trade for grain, gold, copper, tin and horses. It is good land and the Geloni were friendly so the Greeks stayed and intermarried with them. Now we farm the rich soil along the Tanais. We send grain, gold, furs, horses and slaves down to the Euxine Sea where it is shipped on to Greece. And beware young Sava,” Mikon smiled as he poured another drink into Sava’s kylix, “We make the most potent rakia you will ever taste in your life.”

  “This rakia is far more intoxicating than our plain koumiss from mare’s milk. What is it made from?”

  “Fermented plums.”

  “Hmmm, for this rakia alone I would consider giving up my nomadic ways to become a farmer.”

  “No need. We Geloni are great traders. We can bring the rakia to you in Sauromatia.”

  Visions of more vast profits from selling rakia now danced before Mikon’s eyes. This meeting with the Sauromatian emissary was turning out to be fortuitous indeed.

  “Like you Sauromatae and Skythians, the Greeks also claim descent from Herakles.” Damara put in. “We Geloni speak both Skythian and Greek. But in our town of Gelonus we follow Greek customs and worship Greek gods.”

  “Do you Geloni worship the `wine god’ – Dionysos? We hear he has many devotees in Greece and Thrakia.” Sava asked in an offhand manner.

  A stillness descended around the snapping campfire. This was not a casual question. Worship of Dionysos was strictly banned by most Skythian tribes. On pain of
death.

  Mikon hesitated then nodded. “Aye the wine god is worshipped in Gelonus. The number of his devotees is growing, so I hear.”

  Unwilling to put his generous hosts on the defensive, Sava did not pursue the subject. Among the ruling Skythian elite there was deep concern about the growing influence of the wine god’s priests, known as Boukolos - `cattle herders’. They were said to be ruthless black sorcerers who would stop at nothing in their drive for power. In Thrakia the Boukolos had overthrown two kings. These rulers were killed in the most gruesome ways, their families exiled, killed or driven mad.

  Sava recalled his father’s grave words –

  `Beware the agents of the wine god. Learn their secrets, that we may defend against them. The Boukolos control the minds of men by driving them to madness. They attain power by spreading chaos and fomenting rebellion. We cannot allow them to undermine us’.

  “Why do you Geloni share the same territory with the Budini?” Sava asked sensing his hosts’ unease. Best to change the subject. For now.

  “The Budini are our closest Skythian allies,” Mikon said. “Like the Geloni, the Budini generously allowed the Greeks to settle here. We intermarry with the Budini and we always fight together against invaders.”

  “So if you Geloni join the alliance against Persia, the Budini will also join?”

  “Those who lick knives with tongues get cut.” Mikon shook his head. “To join an alliance against Persia is a huge risk. Only the Budini can answer that.”

  “I am curious about the name of your people Sava. The Sauromatae. A strange name is it not? In Greek Saur means reptile or lizard. So, the `Reptile People’? Why are you called that?” Damara asked.

  “Indeed it was the Greeks who gave us this strange name – Sauromatae. Maybe it’s because we worship the serpent mother goddess, Mata Drakaina. Or it could be our scale armor reminds the Greeks of a scaly reptile. Or… maybe it’s the way we move.” The hint of a smile curving his lips, Sava rose and stretched, lithe, graceful.

  Watching him, Kleo was reminded of a powerful rippling python, back and hips undulating over her naked writhing body… She picked up the vessel of rakia and went to him.

  “More drink…Sava?” Her voice soft, husky in his ear.

  Having resumed his seat facing the campfire, he mutely held up his kylix. She slid a curvaceous arm and breast across his shoulder to pour out the rakia.

  He inhaled her sweet musky scent. Absorbed the allure radiating from her lush body.

  Rakia was not all Kleo was pouring out for him and Sava craved to take the plunge. He repressed the intense urge to pull her down onto his lap, to press warm lips and suck tongues. To rub her soft bottom against his burgeoning erection. Down boy.

  “Sava, what else do the Sauromatae do for enjoyment besides riding, hunting and raiding? How do you celebrate?” Kleo asked after she had resumed her place at the fire circle.

  “Oh we are big believers in the pleasures of life. That is the beauty of nomadic life. We don’t spend all our time in back-breaking toil under the grueling sun, tilling the earth and building houses and temples. Many nights we gather around the fire with drums and pipes to sing and dance under the stars. We drink koumiss, toss hemp buds on the fire and enjoy.”

  Sava’s eyes turned inward and he smiled, “The camp dogs all start howling when we sing. Someone always brings out their favorite horse and makes it prance to the drums. Our happiness at just being alive rises to the heavens and pleases the gods. By these simple pleasures do we measure the best moments of our lives.”

  “Will you sing for us Sava?” Kleo asked.

  He shook his head. “Ah…I am but a poor singer.”

  “Come on Sava - a song!” They all joined in.

  “Alright. I will get my duduk.”

  Upon retrieving his eagle bone pipe from his saddlebag, Sava held it reverently in both hands. Closing his eyes a moment he touched it to his forehead, willing his mind to focus and join with the Spirit.

  Raising the duduk to his lips, the nomad played a haunting air reminiscent of an eagle’s soaring cry. In his rich golden timbre he began to sing, interspersing the verses with evocative arias from his pipe:

  Grow grow my green pine

  Grow grow my green pine

  For I will climb to your top

  From there I can see green grass

  And the road that stretches beyond.

  Grow grow my green pine

  Grow grow my green pine

  For I will climb to your top

  From there I can see my sweet heart

  Who lies in green grass, forever sleeping.

  Grow grow my green pine

  Grow grow my green pine

  For I will climb to your top

  From there I can see Holy Mountain

  And stretch out my hand to Glory.

  As he sang, chills surged through his listeners’ bodies. Palms lifted in obeisance, their eyes blurred, glistening with intense even painful nostalgia. Their silent cry winged its way across the vast Unknown -

  We are descendants of Mata Drakaina. Like the serpent who keeps writhing and snapping after its head is cut off – We will go on!

  Chapter 11 – Drakons

  I achieved purification of body and soul

  In the time of my youth

  When others were busy

  With the dazzling illusions of Life –

  Egyptian Book of the Dead – 1550 BC

  After Sava finished singing Kleo broke the pregnant silence –

  “Your song tore at my heart strings Sava. Your voice carried me away. Your eyes, they pull me in like a swirling whirlpool. I cannot look away. They say the Sauromatae have powers, like the Kako Mati – Evil Eye. Is this true?”

  His answer was reserved. “We believe in the power to see behind the mask.”

  “Are you saying you can read our thoughts?” Mikon’s expression was skeptical, verging on suspicious.

  A curtain of apprehensive anticipation descended. Because Sava had beguiled these Geloni with his song, now they were ready to accord him special powers. If the Geloni believed he had the power to bewitch, that could be dangerous – for him. Skythians and Greeks were highly superstitious and fearful of black magic.

  Sava shook his head and smiled disarmingly, his answer carefully calculated:

  “Nay my friends, I practice no magic. I have only a certain sensitivity to the minds of others. But I would put a spell on you Kleo, if I could.”

  “Ah, perhaps you have already ensorcelled me.” Her lustrous brown eyes flared in the torchlight.

  “Nay lady, if anything, it is you who have bound me with your charms.”

  “But there must be some truth to the strange rumors we hear - that the Sauromatae have certain ah…powers? Hmmh?” Kleo purred.

  “Powers…? We are trained from boyhood to be great lovers. Is that what you mean?” He lifted a suggestive dark brow.

  This rejoinder elicited giggles from the two women while Mikon nearly choked on his rakia.

  “Hah. Listen to him. Skythian and Sauromatian men, you are all alike. You all claim to be great warriors and great lovers!” Kleo teased.

  “And you Greeks think everyone wants to live like you.” Sava smiled, then shook his head suddenly serious. “Nay my friends, I am not a warrior and never will be.”

  The silence was palpable. Why not? Their eyes asked. Royal Skythians and Sauromatians were wanderers and warriors. Such was their nature, their caste, their way of life.

  “I am not a warrior because I will take no heads, nor raid for plunder. I kill to eat, to defend myself or my people. And every time I have to kill, even an animal, it hurts my soul. A true warrior lusts to drink his enemy’s blood.” He shook his head. “I was not born this way.”

  “All the better!” Kleo’s merry smile displayed even white teeth. “Who needs a killer anyway? Remember how Herakles killed his wife and children in a fit of rage? Killing can too easily become habit.”

 
“Aye,” Sava responded, “But among my people a man’s honor is counted by the number of heads he takes. By the number of scalps on the bridle reins of his war horse.”

  “So what is your position among the Sauromatae if you are not a warrior?” Mikon asked.

  “I was trained as an emissary, a spokesman to forge friendships amongst the tribes.” And to be my king and voivode’s eyes and ears.

  “Let us drink to that,” Mikon raised his kylix. “To friendship! You are a man after my own heart Sava. You will fight to protect your own but you don’t go looking for a fight.”

  As Sava raised his own kylix, a deep gladness filled his heart that Mikon’s family did not look down on his reluctance to kill as unmanly weakness.

  “To friendship!” The Geloni exclaimed then took a sip of the sweet, stunningly potent rakia.

  “To our Sauromatian brother, Sava, who takes no joy in the spilling of blood!” Kleo called out, lifting her drink.

  “To our Sauromatian brother!”

  “To brotherly kindness!” Damara raised her drink.

  “To kindness!”

  “I thank you for a delicious meal and your good company. I should go and check on my horse now, then I will sleep.” Rising Sava stretched his supple back. Before leaving he shot a suggestive glance at Kleo who responded with an alluring smile.

  All the next day Sava and his Geloni companions journeyed along the massive blue Tanais river. At sunset they relaxed, eating and chatting. On the picket line the horses snorted and stomped, powerful jaws avidly crunching grain and hay.

  The silver moon gazed down benignly from overhead. An owl hooted, harbinger of omens, secrets and mysteries. The fire snapped and chattered its own conversation. Its flickering light glinted across their circled faces.

  Encouraged by his hosts’ friendly attitude, Sava brought up a subject which had long puzzled him -

  “There is a question which plagues me Mikon. You Greeks are literate and knowledgeable about the ancients. Maybe you know the answers I seek.”