Amber and Clay by Laura Schlitz (easy books to read TXT) 📗

She knew she was throwing caution to the winds, but she was too frightened to care. “You talk about sacrificing the bear — ”

“Because I want to prepare you!” Korinna snapped. “The messenger from Oropos may return any day, and if the bear is to be sacrificed, you will be part of the ceremony! You — ”

Melisto shook her head in confusion; she looked like the bear cub when a yellow jacket stung its nose. “What is Oropos?”

Korinna frowned at the fresh interruption. “There is an oracle at Oropos, with a famous seer. When the hunters brought the bear, they gave it to us for sacrifice, but I wasn’t sure what should be done.” A faint flush rose in her cheeks. “You raised the question yourself — that Artemis might be angered, not pleased, by such a sacrifice. No cub has ever been sacrificed at Brauron. I spoke of my misgivings to the other priestesses, and they agreed to consult the oracle. The seer at Oropos is descended from Melampos of Pylos. He will know.”

Melisto knew the story of Melampos of Pylos. He had lived hundreds of years ago and spoken the language of animals. “Then the bear might not be sacrificed!”

“It might not. But I think it will be.”

“Can’t you — ?” Melisto swallowed. She wished she had not spoken so rashly before. “You’re the priestess of Artemis. If it’s up to you — ”

“It isn’t! What power do I have? Are you fool enough to think I rule Brauron?”

It was exactly what Melisto had thought. “You’re the priestess.”

Korinna gave a short laugh. “Oh, Melisto! I am priestess — but only for a time. In due course, I’ll go home and be married, like any other girl. The elders will choose another girl to personify the goddess. Perhaps Elpis, when she is older — she’s of good family and graceful. But if she is chosen, she won’t be in charge, any more than I am. It’s the old women, and the old men who come for the banquets; they rule Brauron.”

“The grandmothers?” Melisto used the nickname the girls had for the older women at the sanctuary. “The old women who welcomed us the first night?” She had scarcely noticed the oldest priestesses. They were as invisible as slaves, seeing to the domestic work at Brauron: overseeing the kitchens and the looms, greeting visitors, tending the shrines.

“The older priestesses; yes. They have more power. I’m the goddess’s mask.” Korinna tapped her cheekbones with her fingertips. “Her face, if you like. Artemis is a young goddess, so a girl must impersonate her. I always knew I might be chosen, because my grandmother served in her day, and my great-grandmother. I have a gift for animals. And of course, I am beautiful; that’s necessary.” She spoke of her beauty without conceit; it was as if she said, And I’m right-handed.

“I lead the processions, and I wear the fawn skin and carry the goddess’s bow. I assist at the sacrifice, and I tame the stags. And the little girls fall in love with me, because they think I’m Artemis, but I am not holy; it is Artemis who is holy. The grandmothers tell me how to behave. They’re the ones who make the decisions. They sent to consult the oracle, and they’ll decide what’s to become of the bear cub. Melisto, I tell you this out of kindness: I think the bear will be sacrificed, and it will be soon, perhaps the next full moon. You must prepare yourself to assist with the sacrifice, and not break your heart when the bear is given to Artemis.”

“But what if Artemis doesn’t want it?” Melisto’s voice shook. At that moment, she saw that she didn’t care whether Artemis wanted the bear or not. Artemis was less to her than the bear.

Korinna rose to her feet in one fluid movement. Her whole body spoke: she had tolerated Melisto’s bad manners long enough. Swiftly she picked up her sandals and crossed the bridge barefoot. She was no longer a girl, but an offended goddess: haughty and sublime.

Melisto watched her go, but with blind eyes. She was thinking of the bear: of the harness embedded in the bear’s fur, of the stout post and the heavy chain.

7. THE KNIFE

“Melisto, are you awake?”

Melisto uttered a moan of protest. She wished Elpis would leave her alone. Now that the nights were warm, they no longer slept curled up together, but head to foot. Elpis’s feet smelled like grass and sweat and dirty little girl; Melisto stank of bear. Often, they kicked each other in their sleep.

“I forgot to tell you. They’re going to sacrifice the bear.”

Melisto’s eyes opened. She sat up in bed. “Who told you so?”

“You know how Tanis hasn’t been here?”

“No.” The handmaid Tanis taught hunting, and Melisto was not interested in hunting. She had no use for Tanis and hadn’t noticed her absence.

“She left, but she came back. Today, when you were at the stable. Korinna met her at the bridge. Maia and I were wading, so we heard. Tanis came back from a place called Oporos — ”

“Oropos.”

“That’s what I said, almost. There’s a seer there, and he told Tanis that the bear cub should be given to Artemis on one of her holy days. He said if Artemis didn’t want it, the hunters wouldn’t have been able to trap it. Korinna says you ought to be prepared, only she tried to prepare you and you wouldn’t listen. I don’t like it.” Elpis spoke decisively. “I feel sorry for the bear, but I feel sorrier for you, because you like the bear so much.”

“Did they say which holy day?”

“No. But Korinna said it had better be soon. She said the bear’s getting stronger all the time, and it won’t be easy to cut its throat. They might have to club it to death. Are you crying?” Elpis edged closer, peering through the dark.

“No.” Melisto aimed a light kick at Elpis. She didn’t want Elpis’s