Chapter Forty
We gathered together in the center of the village. All eyes were on me, some with peace, for they knew from that night onward, they would sleep without fear. Others looked at me with hesitation and trepidation.
“What do we do now?” Dolos spoke. Despite her initial reticence, I had learned she’d killed two men that night. Not only her husband but her brother, whose crimes against her had been much the same.
“Now you are free,” I said, though as I spoke, I realized how feeble the words sounded. How hollow. What did freedom mean?
Damaris’s lips narrowed, her eyes piercing into me as if to say, You were the one who brought them this freedom. Now tell them what to do with it.
I responded with a pursing of my lips before addressing the rest of them.
“We have work to do. The bodies need to be cleaned, oiled, and buried in the graveyard.”
“I will lead those digging graves.” Chrysothea stepped forward. “The earth is soft. It will not be a hard task. No harder than the work at the tannery.”
“Thank you. Are there others among you who wish to dig rather than anoint the dead?” I asked.
Several women nodded and drifted toward Chrysothea.
“Thank you. Go now. If you struggle, let me know, and I will send more women to you.”
They nodded yet did not immediately move.
They wanted more from me, though what more I could give them, I did not know.
Then, behind the crowd, I saw a face I barely recognized.
For nearly a full year, I had only ever seen glimpses of her as she hurried through the village, head bowed.
Yet here she was, standing with the tannery women as if she was one of them. One of us. And she was.
“Kallista,” I said, looking directly at her. “Do you have meat in the tavern? Goat, lamb, chickens?”
She stared at me, barely moving. “Yes, goat. I had plans to make a stew. For the tavern.”
“Then make one still, for all of us. Once we have dug the graves, Damaris and I will hunt. When we return, we will feast and give offerings to the gods. A blessing for the future on our first night of freedom.”
The quietness remained, a stillness so intense I could hear the beating of a falcon’s wings on the winds above us.
The women were waiting, anticipating my next words.
Yet I did not know what more I could say or what more I should.
I drew in a deep breath, still praying for inspiration, when Damaris lifted her hand into the air.
“To our freedom!” she shouted.
Althea came next. Then Aina.
“To our freedom!”
“Our freedom!”
The cheer rose around me, and in that moment, I let myself dissolve into the sound, the chorus. And I wondered, only for a moment, even as darkness spread in my belly, if this was what it felt like to be a hero.