Chapter Forty-One
No woman complained as they dug one grave after another.
Deep enough for a body but no deeper. Some of them wept, some were silent, and some laughed, though whether because they felt genuine joy or merely because their bodies did not know how else to respond, I could not say.
Those who did not dig prepared the bodies, taking them into their homes and placing them on tables, ready to clean the dead and anoint them with oil.
Of the men who had died at my home, three were collected by their families, for the women had children who wished to help perform the rites on their husbands.
I helped to carry the men to their homes before I returned to mine.
It was when I finally returned alone that I found her kneeling by Melitta’s body.
“Get away from her.”
My voice was a snarl, and she did not need telling twice. Thalassa scrambled to her feet.
“If you have come for Xanthus, take him. You can drag him back on your own for all I care.”
“Please, Otrera. I need to help you. Let me help you. I cannot… I cannot survive this guilt,” she pleaded with her voice and eyes. Those same eyes that had refused to meet mine hours before when they brought death to my doorstep.
“Your guilt means nothing to me.”
“That is not true.” She stepped forward, and the simple act was enough to make me flinch.
“My guilt is yours. We are one and the same. You wanted to save us. You wanted to lead. You think every woman under your command will make the right decision every time? We are human. We make mistakes. Please, Otrera, I need your forgiveness. I know it is within you.”
I ignored the question that rose in her voice, not out of spite but because my mind had fixed on her earlier words.
“I did not want to lead,” I said instead. “I do not want to command. That was not my aim.”
“Aim or not, that is what you have done. You set yourself apart as the ruler of this…this…tribe the moment you said we should take up arms against our husbands. And you confirmed it when you spoke to us after the deaths. You rule this village now, Otrera, like it or not.”
“No,” I said again, but uncertainty wavered in my voice. Phile, I wanted to say. Phile could rule us. But the words would not pass my lips. Phile hadn’t wanted this. She had not wanted the burden. And now I knew why.
My silence was all the confirmation Thalassa needed. She stepped forward and looked me in the eye.
“I will anoint these men in your home while you see to Melitta,” she said. “And I will come hunting with you and Damaris this afternoon. If anyone needs the grace of the gods, it is you and I.”
I did not wish Thalassa to join Damaris and me on the hunt. I did not want her within the village or all of Anatolia, yet I hadn’t an argument I could fire back at her. She had cost women their lives, but so had I, and she knew this. Still, I tried to slip away without her knowing.
I placed Melitta’s body in the house, and while I carefully washed every patch of blood and dirt from her skin, I left Morsimus on the ground outside. His spirit now wandered the earth as a wraith, awaiting his burial, and I wanted it to see this. To know what I had done.
When Melitta was clean, I anointed her body with oil.
She had been so conservative with the use of it in our home, not only with the lamps but in cooking too, fearful of the cost. Yet I spared no expense as I slathered her in the slick, viscous liquid, so thickly her skin shimmered.
Only once the task was complete did I head into the village.
I found Althea and Damaris on the road.
“The women continue their work,” Althea said. “But we were coming to find you.”
“Why?”
“We believe we should head out on a hunt now.” Damaris took over the conversation. “You should know, the women are expecting a sign.”
“A sign?”
“From the gods. Confirmation that our actions were in line with the gods’ wills. They are fearful of rebuke.”
My jaw tightened, as did my unease.
“None will feel rebuke,” I said, praying the fear in my words did not show. “The gods will be just. I will fetch my bow. Go to Hirtus, and ask if you can use one of his.”
Damaris nodded.
“I will return to the women,” Althea said. “The gods will be with you. I am sure of it.”
I did not reply.
After fetching my bow and arrows, I returned to Damaris, only to discover she was not alone.
Thalassa was with her.
As we walked to the forest, she remained on our heels like some mangy, flea-bitten stray hoping for food. I gave her nothing. No backward glance or slight smile. Not even a scowl or hostile word. No, I pretended she was invisible.
We walked in silence, for there were no words that could pass between us.
I could not help but think of food. Rabbits, for instance.
I had cleaned them, but I had never cooked one.
That had always been Melitta’s role. I did not even know how many hours they took to roast on a fire or boil in a stew.
Or what herbs would bring out the flavor of different meats. It was as if I were an infant.
“Damaris, can you cook?” I asked as we approached the forest.
“As well as any wife and mother,” she said, then added, “I can make a few simple dishes.”
I nodded. “I will need you to teach me,” I said, trying to hide the shame I felt.
“Teach you?”
“I have never cooked before. It was Melitta’s role…” My voice trailed off. I had hoped Damaris would reply quickly, although that was against her quiet nature, and instead a silence took hold before she finally spoke.
“I can cook enough for you,” she said.
The relief that flooded through me was palpable.
“We will each need to find our roles now, will we not?” she said.
“I believe we will.”
As we reached the fields where the rabbits grazed, I left my bow on my back.
I had not sharpened the arrows since the night before, only washed off the blood.
They would likely be blunter than I wished, and I wanted more than just a rabbit to take back with me.
The women wanted a sign, and so did I. So for the first time since she had joined us, I looked back at Thalassa.
“Watch where you tread. I do not want to hear your footsteps hammering on the ground like a wild boar,” I said.
Stepping into the forest, I recalled that first hunt with Hirtus. I had no doubt that if I had asked him to join us, he would have agreed, but it was not what I wanted or what we, the women, needed. I needed to do this alone.
Taking slow, considered steps, I pressed my hands against the bark of the trees in search of those signs that had previously been invisible to me.
Now I saw them all: the small patches of fur, too high to be from a rabbit or other small animals.
Later still, I saw greater dents, scratches so deep that sap seeped from the wood.
And then, as we reached a place in the forest where sunlight struggled to penetrate, the droppings. Small…and warm.
I did not speak but gestured with a tilt of my head to a path broken through the undergrowth.
The leaves had been pushed aside, and judging by the width of the track, it was no small beast that had gone through.
If not deer, then certainly a boar. I planned to go for the biggest and hoped Damaris could kill a second.
Thalassa had little purpose, trailing behind us with nothing more than a fleshing knife, but hopefully we would use her later to carry the animals back to the village.
The herd was so silent I could have stumbled straight into them.
These were not like the boars, who snuffled and grunted as they burrowed their snouts into the earth.
Some grazed, while others stretched their long necks to nibble on the lower leaves of the trees.
Deer. Not one or two but dozens. Never in all my days had I seen a herd like this.
Every inch of the clearing was filled with them and farther back still, lost in the lengthening shadows.
The women had asked for a sign, and in my heart, so had I.
I had come to the forest not only for an offering but for assurance.
Assurance that the gods had understood my actions.
Assurance that I was fit to lead. Assurance of our future.
And there it was, standing in front of me. Every one of those animals was a gift.
I would kill only stags, I decided. Male blood for male blood seemed fitting.
Besides, the herd would continue to grow if I took a stag, better than if I took a doe.
And I knew which stag I wanted. His antlers twisted like gnarled branches, and from the marks on his hide, he had been in his fair share of fights. He was mine.
I nocked my arrow and pointed it at the creature’s belly, though I made no attempt to pull back on the bowstring. Instead, I looked at Damaris.
She did not point with her bow but her finger at a small doe near to me. I shook my head. She did not question but seemed to understand, for the next one she selected was a young stag with small knots of antlers protruding from its skull. I nodded.
With my focus now back on the beast, I lifted my bow and drew.
The sensation of my high elbow and tension across my chest came with such ease, as natural as stretching upward or clicking out the cricks in my neck.
I knew where I must aim, though before I did, I glanced once more at Damaris.
If my stag fell before hers, the others would be alerted and dart away before it had even hit the ground. We needed to do this together. As one.
Soft rays of dawn’s light struck my face as I pulled the arrow back that final inch and locked my aim. I would not miss. Holding my breath, I released the string.
My shot was as clean as I could have hoped for. The high-pitched whir of the arrow was loud enough to draw the attention of several deer, yet none of them bolted. They all remained still, as if they had been carved from stone, until the moment my arrow struck.
“Shit!”
For a second, I thought it was I who had missed, but my arrow stuck deep in the stag’s neck, and the animal was already toppling to the ground. It was Damaris who had missed her mark.
She hit the beast she had aimed for but not won a kill. Rather, she had struck it in the hind leg. Its eyes bulged from its sockets as it moved in circles, disoriented by its pain. I reached for a second arrow, ready to fire again, only to be pushed out of the way.
“It is mine!”
Thalassa shoved past me, her arm raised.
A fire of fury sparked within me. This, I realized, was the reason she had come. Not to help bring home an offering to the gods but to ensure I failed. I reached out to grab her chiton when her hand flicked forward, sending a flash of silver spinning in the air.
It flew hilt over blade, hilt over blade, until the knife lodged itself right in the throat of Damaris’s injured beast. I watched, heart clenched, as blood poured from the wound.
A moment later, the animal dropped to the ground.
Thalassa moved so slowly and with such confidence, it was difficult to believe this was the same woman who had sobbed as she groveled at my sandals only hours earlier.
She moved to the animal and recovered the knife, only to turn back and look at me squarely.
“It would appear that the gods wished for me to join you in this hunt after all.”