The sparring session Adhara had promised Menish did not take place. Althak’s departure left the King shattered. He had expected to spend the rest of the day conferring with Althak, Adhara and a few others, making what plans were appropriate at this stage. But most of those plans were to have included Althak and Azkun. In despair, though he was careful not to show it, he closed the court for the day and went riding with Adhara. He wanted to get away from these people who would make demands on him, to come to terms with Althak’s defection.
Menish whipped his horse with the anger he felt for Althak and galloped furiously along the riverbank. Adhara made little attempt to keep up with him. They were riding a well-known track. She would catch up when his anger cooled.
The cold wind on his face and the eventual snorting protests of the horse did their work on him and at last he stopped to let the horse drink. The tired animal picked its way down to the water while Menish stood on the horse track. The winter wind still blew on his face and the sky looked like snow. It was winter and he would die in the spring. He kicked at a stone, sending it flying into the water where the splash startled the horse. Damn Althak! How could he have listened to Azkun’s madness? Had he lost all reason? He was supposed to help convince Azkun to fight, not chase after his dragons. He was just a Vorthenki following his obscene gods. Menish had always known he continued to revere Kopth so what else should he expect? But Althak was different. Menish remembered the plea in Althak’s voice as he had announced his intention to fight Gashans the best way he knew. It was all Menish himself was doing. It was all Vorish was doing. Even Adhara, who had no hope for their survival, was going to fight Gashan the best way she knew.
But to go running after Azkun’s dragons? It was ridiculous. Althak had more sense. It was simply a way of saving his own skin and dressing it up to make it look like noble self sacrifice. And yet? Yes, there was that plea for understanding in Althak’s voice. How could Menish understand a Vorthenki? How could Althak expect him to?
He heard the thudding of hoofs on the track. Adhara had caught up with him. Even before she spoke Menish could see she was displeased. This was their first opportunity to speak alone since Althak had gone.
“You've made an ass of yourself.”
“What did you expect me to do? Pat his blond head and send him on his way?”
“You could have made some attempt to keep him, but after your reaction to Azkun’s announcement you'd already made that all but impossible. Wasn't it obvious that Althak would accompany him? You said yourself Azkun trusted only Althak, how else do you think the gentle Vorthenki would respond? Especially when you abused Azkun. You left him with no friends but Althak and that dog-like woman who follows him everywhere. What else could Althak do?”
“What else could I do? Azkun insulted me in my own court. I was reasonable until then. I attempted to persuade him to stay and help. But once he began calling me a fool I had no choice. I was generous to give them horses.”
“So now you've lost Althak and your hopes of Azkun are ruined. Yet you still do not see it? I've never seen you make such a blunder, and I have known you a long time, O King.”
She was looking at him in a way he did not recognise, as if she was more his subject than his wife. It frightened him, he did not want her to change, not now. He could not afford to lose her as well. For a fleeting moment he wondered if his guilt with Thalissa had been finally exposed, but that was impossible.
“What's this ‘O King’? You can usually think of a worse address than that if you're angry.”
“I was going to ask you something. But your treatment of Althak and Azkun makes me hesitate.” She climbed off her horse, allowing the animal to go and drink. “Do you remember we came here years ago in summer, when we were young?” Menish remembered. A short way down the river was a cluster of trees that had afforded them enough privacy to enjoy their love in the open air. But it was winter now and they were too old to put up with the discomforts of the hard ground.
“I remember.”
“I never told you something about that grove of trees. I'm not sure if I should tell you now.”
“But obviously you are going to tell me,” said Menish, annoyed at her obscurity.
“It's sacred to Kiveli. It's a… traditional place for women to take their husbands.”
“Really? I'd thought we discovered the place for ourselves.”
“I know. That's what many of the men of Meyathal believe.”
“You mean they all go there?”
She shrugged. “Many, not all. I've not waited in the bushes to see. I knew you'd be displeased, you thought it was only the two of us knew. But there is more.”
“Go on,” said Menish, mystified as to where this was leading.
“This will displease you more. We send our young women there before they marry to learn… about marriage.”
“What? You mean they spied on us?”
She nodded.
“It's an old custom.”
Menish was shocked and somewhat embarrassed. “You mean you've been sending girls down to that grove to spy on married couples taking their pleasure since Aton knows when?”
“Actually since Kiveli knows when, but what you say is true.”
“And you knew someone was watching us?”
She grinned wickedly. “Of course, it was arranged. The girl told me afterwards she was impressed.”
“Flame of Aton! Who was it?”
“You don't really want me to tell you. She doesn't live at Meyathal.”
“I'm relieved… and did you go there before we married?”
“Of course.”
“Why can’t women learn the way men do, a quiet talk with someone older and an attentive eye on the cattle?”
Adhara laughed.
“Perhaps we could. But we're not cows to be covered. You must remember we're on the receiving end of rutting, I know some women who've decided to forego marriage when they learn what's involved.”
It did not seem enough justification for Menish, but he thought of several women at Meyathal who were past the usual marriage age and who had not found husbands. It was not uncommon. Was this the reason?
“Why are you telling me this now? You've kept this secret from me for years.”
“This is just one of the secrets we women have. You men think you're the only ones with your secret initiations at the Chasm of Kelerish and your oracular fire towers. But we women still guard the old faith of Anthor. You dismiss it as women’s tales you were told as a child. I wanted you to know that there are tales we don't tell our sons that we do tell our daughters.”
“So you have secrets too? You know what I think of the Sons of Gilish.”
“Yes, but you know their secrets. You don't know ours.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
She took a breath, as if she was preparing herself to face Menish’s rage. “Last night you said Kiveli should preserve us from Gashan. What if I tell you that I think she can?”
“No! Not another offer of gods! Aton failed last time. I've sent Azkun on his mad way and he took Althak. What will you do?” He reached for her and they clung together. “Don't desert me to run after gods I don't know. I can manage without Althak. I can't live without you.”
She pushed him away and looked him eye to eye.
“You think that because you've heard one secret you know them all. You do not know Kiveli, O King.”
“I know gods are useless!”
“I know Kiveli is not!”
“Does no one want to fight Gashan with swords?” He turned away from her and walked down the track. “All I get are offers of divine help!”
“Menish!”
She almost never called him by name in private. They had a dozen pet names they used. He stopped and turned back to her.
“What harm can it do to ask Kiveli’s help? We don't need to travel to some unknown island to do it.”
“Do it then, but don't tell me more of your secrets.”
“Do you think I would have told you anything if I didn't need to? This goes deeper than you think. We have… ceremonies, traditions. It wouldn't be possible without your cooperation.”
“What would I have to do?” he asked her suspiciously.
“You needn't worry. I'll need to talk with some of the other women. Of course you'll have to swear never to reveal what you see.”
“More secrets?”
“They're secrets any Anthorian woman knows. It's only from men that these things are kept.”
“How soon will you know what's involved?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“You speak of ceremonies and meetings, it sounds so much like the Sons of Gilish. How can I have been unaware of this for so long? I knew you had your women’s tales, but this is so organised. It's not just a Kruzan pool and a few yaks’ tails at a fight, is it?”
“I doubt if we've ever been as formal as the Sons of Gilish, but we do have long traditions. It's said that we shared them once with the men, but the coming of the Relanese changed that.”
“Because women are not permitted in the Sons of Gilish?”
“I suppose so.”
“I'll take part in your ceremony. I don't believe that Kiveli will deliver us from Gashan, but it may give them hope. They'll need all the hope they can get when we meet Gashan in battle.” Menish stopped, remembering something. He continued in a less serious tone. “Since we're telling secrets perhaps I should tell you one.”
She frowned for a moment, as if what he said disturbed her, then she smiled and he continued. “There's a place further up the river where the women often bathe in the summer. Not far off is a place where young men sometimes hide to watch them.” Menish looked at his feet, rather ashamed of this secret.
Adhara laughed.
“Of course they do! And our young women are always careful to let it be known when they go there. You spied on me once years ago, I made sure of it.”
“Shameless! Are you telling me you women are aware of this and allow it to go on?”
She touched his nose with her finger playfully.
“You're self-righteous, O King. These are things that are good for young people. Didn't you enjoy watching me?”
“Well, yes. Yes I did, of course I did.”
“I wouldn't have gone unless I knew you'd be there.”
“Yes, but I wasn't alone, Olcean was with me. He saw you too. Doesn't that bother you?”
“Well, I would rather you'd been alone, but I wasn't alone either. Mora was with me. I think it's rare for young people to go there by themselves. They need each other for courage.”
She was right, of course. Menish felt he had learned more about his people this afternoon than he had ever known before. Anthorian women were always so prim, reaching for their swords at the mere mention of Relanese polygamy or Vorthenki customs, that he would never have expected such behaviour of them. But, of course, Anthorian men were just the same when women were present. It was only when no women were there that they could relax and laugh at some of Althak’s Vorthenki jokes. He wondered what jokes the women told each other when no men were present.
The thought of Althak brought back his anger, but it had softened to something more like grief. He still disagreed with Adhara, there was nothing else he could have done or said to keep Althak and Azkun from leaving. It was done, over. He would not see Althak again, he would perish in his search for his Vorthenki island, and Menish himself would perish in the coming battle.
“We'll all need each other for courage soon,” he said grimly. “Come, let's go back. You've arrangements to make.”
Adhara’s arrangements were so extensive that she did not come to their rooms that night. She had warned Menish that this might happen so he was not surprised, but he was curious about what she was doing. She had not been to the evening meal in the hall, there were no other women there either.
Menish sought out Bolythak. With Hrangil, Grath and now Althak gone he needed more lieutenants. Bolythak was an obvious choice, Drinagish would have to take more responsibility. Neathy would also be useful, but she was in the women’s lodge.
“What's going on tonight? Where are all the women?” asked Bolythak.
“There was some noise from the women’s lodge a while ago. Voices raised, someone screaming I think,” said Drinagish. “Maybe they had a fight in there.”
Or maybe they were telling jokes they would not tell in front of men, thought Menish, but he knew better than that.
“We could get one of the small boys to go and see. Olcish is still allowed in the women’s lodge. Hey, Olcish! Over here!”
Olcish came at Bolythak’s command.
“Do you know what's going on in the women’s lodge? Why are they still there? It's dinner time.”
“I don’t know,” said Olcish. “I think it's something to do with the Vorthenki. They ordered all of us out.” He gestured to a group of forlorn looking little boys. Keashil was with them, trying to cheer them with a lively tune. But Menish could see her heart was not in it. She was grieving that Althak had gone.
“Poor little beggars,” said Bolythak. “They look upset. They never did that to me when I was their age.”
“If they haven't come to dinner,” said Menish, “they may not come out to get them for bed. We'd better move them to the men’s lodge. It'll be too cold for them out here in the early hours of the morning.
“Olcish, did they order your mother out as well?” The boy nodded.
“So much for hospitality,” said Drinagish.
Menish called to Yarol.
“There seems to be some disturbance in the women’s lodge. Keashil has been turned out. She can't sleep in the hall. Find her a chamber of her own, Hrangil’s will do.”
“Hrangil’s things are still in his chamber, Sire. I haven't yet been able to clear it.” Hrangil had many books such as the Mish-Tal, containing the secrets of the Sons of Gilish. He would not have wanted them tampered with.
“Leave them there, Yarol. Keashil already knows Hrangil’s secrets. But if she didn't she'd not learn them from his books. As for his other property, she'll respect it.”
So Menish went to his cold bed, remembering that Adhara had had to do the same while he was away. Or perhaps she slept in the women’s lodge? He had not thought of that before. He went to sleep wondering what those women were planning.
It was not until the noon meal next day that he saw Adhara again. There were no women to be seen in the place all morning, except for Keashil, and no sign of activity from the women’s lodge. People kept asking him what was happening, but he had no definite answers so he feigned ignorance, pointing out that he was not permitted in the women’s lodge to find out. Finally, at noon, they emerged from the lodge looking weary. Menish thought he saw traces of paint on Adhara’s face when she greeted him, but he did not mention it.
The women were hungry and, since no one had been expecting them, the kitchen staff, under Yarol’s supervision, hurriedly prepared more mein. It took time, however, and most of the women were irritable and vented their tempers on Yarol for keeping them waiting.
Menish and Adhara took their meal in their rooms. Adhara was plainly agitated, and just as irritable as the others. She looked as though she had been arguing all night and all morning. Menish waited patiently for her to tell him what had happened.
“This is muck!” she pushed the bowl of mein away and reached for the cup of ambroth.
“It's the same as always. You didn't complain yesterday.”
“They didn't burn it yesterday. It took them long enough to make it, then they burnt it!”
“Are you going to tell me what happened or just complain about the food?”
She glared at him for a moment, then her gaze softened.
“Yes, of course. I'll tell you what I can. We held a council of women, like the clan leaders council, but different. Many of the important women are here to listen to your news of Gashan so it was easy to organise it. For once I was able to address it.”
“What do you mean: ‘for once’?”
She hesitated.
“Only women who have given birth may speak in our councils.”
Her answer opened another window into this world of women for Menish. Women who had given birth wore their hair in braids, rather than loose as she did. He had always thought it an empty tradition, but suddenly it was a mark of status, a badge of importance. And Adhara could not speak in their councils? She who was regent while he was away? He had always assumed that she held a position of authority in Anthor, yet in this world of women she did not. Neither did he, of course. He was not even allowed to attend their councils.
“I see, go on.”
“I said we should hold the rite of Protection. It's an old rite, before the Relanese came it was used as a protection from them. Now it's used to protect herds from raiders. There were objections, of course.”
“Objections?”
“The rite of Protection can only be performed by the owner of the herds. It can't be done for her by anyone else. When it was done to defend Anthor it had to be done by the King.”
“And when the King is a man?”
“No one knows for sure. But we think in the old days it was done by a man or a woman. The Relanese changed that, but that's what I have been arguing all night. It may be still be done by a man… it may be done by you.”
There was something she was not telling him. But she was tired and he did not want to press her.
“And did you convince them?”
“In principle, yes. They agree that you ought to be allowed to do it. There is still a question whether you will succeed.”
“Is it some difficult task?”
“The rite isn't difficult. But whether Kiveli will listen is the question.”
“Don't you still revere Krith, the sky god?”
“Of course. But Kiveli has the power.”
He wondered if he could have reasonably expected any other answer from a religion of women.
It was several days before he heard any more about this rite of Protection. During this time Adhara avoided him, sleeping in the women’s lodge. She would not tell him anything about it, or even when it would take place. The other women also avoided him. Some of them seemed almost hostile and few would speak to him.
One morning Adhara met him emerging from their rooms.
“The rite will take place tonight.”
“What must I do?”
“Eat nothing this evening, bathe and put on clean clothing, and no weapons. I'll meet you at dusk.”
He did not see her again until dusk. Bolythak, who had the management of one of his herds, had wanted him to come and see how well it was doing. He wanted to build up Bolythak's confidence so he went with him, but it meant that he was away from Meyathal at noon and could only eat some wheat cakes in the fields. By dusk his stomach was churning with hunger, especially with the smell of the evening meal in his nostrils. He wondered if they would know if he ate something, but Adhara had trusted him to follow her instructions. He could not break that trust.
Adhara led him to the stables where they found horses and rode out from the palace. It was bitterly cold, but the sky was clear. A fingernail moon shed some light on their path. Menish had no idea where they were going. They stopped at the riverbank.
“Here we must cover your eyes.” Without waiting for his objections Adhara tied a cloth around his head, blocking out his vision. She inspected it carefully (he supposed that was what she was doing) before leading his horse off with her own. “There was debate about tying your hands to prevent you moving the covering. I told them that we could trust you.” After that Menish could hardly disobey even if he were inclined to.
But he did manage to guess where they were going. Some light from the waning moon gave him a sense of direction and he knew every horse path around Meyathal intimately. Although she twisted their path, circling and doubling back to confuse him Menish knew when they arrived at the place called Gomol-thal, the place of death. Menish could picture it in the night sky, rows of high earth mounds, beneath each one a king of Anthor lay. One day, perhaps, his own mound would lie here under the moon. But no, he would lie like his father did in the Mountains of Ristalshuz.
He could hear the muffled whispers and breathing of dozens of women clustered near one of the mounds. He did not know which one it was. There was a fire, he could smell burning and feel the welcome heat on his face. Some of its glow penetrated his blindfold. Was the fire part of the rite, or was it just to keep them warm?
Adhara helped him dismount and led him forward. He still did not know what he was expected to do.
“You're standing before the image of Kiveli. This will be uncomfortable and a little undignified, but it's the custom. Lie down.” Menish did as he was told. “We have a heavy boulder, not too heavy, but not light. We'll place it on top of you. While it's there you must address Kiveli briefly and without flattery, stating your need and why she should help.”
Before he could protest he felt a solid weight on his abdomen. It knocked the air out of his chest and he had to wait a moment before he could begin, but the pressure on him was uncomfortable enough to make him want to get it over with quickly. He wondered if this was some kind of joke, he must have looked ridiculous.
“O Kiveli…” he had to pause for breath. Why did they have to put a rock on his belly? “Gashan will soon attack Anthor… They have the ability to throw fire… and they have other magic… We have only brave hearts and swords… You have helped us before… Help us again… Let none of our people die… in the battle… but destroy Gashan.” He could not raise enough breath for any more words except to say to Adhara: “get this off me.”
The weight was lifted and he filled his chest with air.
“Take a moment to rest if you need it, then you can get up,” Adhara said quietly. At the same moment the women around him began to sing. It was an old song, more of a chant than the kind of thing that was sung nowadays. Menish had heard it before, he could not remember when. It was a hymn to Kiveli, about green grass in the spring and new calves. He listened for a moment while his breath returned to normal then climbed to his feet.
“What happens now?”
“Nothing more. I'll lead you home.”
They climbed onto their horses and Adhara led them away, the women continued to sing. Eventually the song faded away with distance.
“Why the boulder?” asked Menish. “It was strange.”
“For you it would be. The boulder was a symbol of birth. By accepting the boulder you identified with Kiveli the creator and protector.”
“I see why there were arguments about a man doing it. Did Kiveli hear me?”
“Of course she heard you. You did well, my love. But it's Kiveli, not we, who will decide if she'll act.”
Menish held his tongue, but he remembered the same thing being said of Aton when the Emperor was killed. The gods will answer prayers if it suits them. It was not like buying cattle where people could be trusted to keep their bargains. People could be relied on. Gods could not be.