no family.”
“Do you have a family?” I asked.
I couldn’t see his face in the dim light. “They’re dead,” he said. “Killed for the pleasure of watching them die.” Xandros turned and walked back to the ship to help with the unloading.
I walked up the beach. It seemed odd to hear so many people speaking the language of Wilusa. Then I realized what was strange. Until today I had never heard it spoken by a man.
Their prince saw me walking and came over to me. “Pythia, I must talk with you.”
“I am here,” I said.
He drew me a little ways from the others. “We must light a pyre for the two men killed today. We have brought their bodies from Pylos, but we must pay them honor tonight, because tomorrow we must sail. We are too close to Pylos to remain once Idenes’ fleet returns. I will need you to do what is proper.” He stopped. “Today has given us hope that some of us may be reunited on this side of the River, and it will help if you can do this. It will do people good to see these rites done as they should be, not in the haphazard way we have since we sailed.”
I nodded. “Of course this can be done. I will need help building the pyre, and it will be hard to find enough wood on this island. But it can be done. And I will say the words that are right and proper. You will address their shades, Prince Aeneas?”
He nodded. “I will do it. I have done it before.”
Three men gathered wood and we heaped it for a pyre, across first one way and then the other to build a proper bier. The two men would lie on it together, like brothers. I arranged their limbs as well as I could, for the stiffness was setting in. It was well to do it now, given the heat of the days. There was wine to pour out in libation, the best of Pylos’ vintage, but I had no herbs or resins except the ones for the brazier that induce visions. We would have to do without. I went apart a little and straightened my dress, and repainted my face with the white and the black. I had enough paint for a while, but I should have to make more. The charcoal is easy to find, but the chalk must be rendered with fat carefully. It would be difficult to replace.
While I was apart they had assembled around the bier, quietly, respectfully, for the most part. There were four hundred or so in all, all the people left of Wilusa. When I appeared beside the bier some of the men stepped back. They had seen me in Pylos, but did not know that I had come.
I spoke the words that are right, the Calling of the Descent and the Lady’s Greeting. Sothis rose clear and bright out of the sea.
Prince Aeneas cleared his throat and leaned forward. He touched the torch to the wood. It took some little while to catch. Then he addressed their shades, telling them that they had fulfilled all their oaths in life, that they were revered and praised by their People.
He looked out at the crowd, this ragged bunch of pirates, and I saw what he saw. “My friends, your sacrifice has brought back two score of our blood, reunited our families, given these women back into loving arms, restored these children’s mothers. If you are waiting beside the River, may the ferryman be swift, knowing that he carries heroes who have given their blood for the blood of the People.”
I saw their faces in the firelight. So many young and so few old, so many men and so few women. Clothes that were tattered and could not be replaced without looms. And how can one weave on a ship? Where would the flax and wool come from? How long could we live on stolen food with no fields to plant? We could not live on fish alone.
The fire leaped. I raised my hands in praise and farewell. Two of the rowers started with their drums, a steady beat that got faster. There were flutes then, and the other drummers joined in. I stood still while they began a long, slow dance about the fire, the acrid smoke rolling over us with the smell of burning flesh. I had not seen this dance before, majestic and slow, yet as
“Do you have a family?” I asked.
I couldn’t see his face in the dim light. “They’re dead,” he said. “Killed for the pleasure of watching them die.” Xandros turned and walked back to the ship to help with the unloading.
I walked up the beach. It seemed odd to hear so many people speaking the language of Wilusa. Then I realized what was strange. Until today I had never heard it spoken by a man.
Their prince saw me walking and came over to me. “Pythia, I must talk with you.”
“I am here,” I said.
He drew me a little ways from the others. “We must light a pyre for the two men killed today. We have brought their bodies from Pylos, but we must pay them honor tonight, because tomorrow we must sail. We are too close to Pylos to remain once Idenes’ fleet returns. I will need you to do what is proper.” He stopped. “Today has given us hope that some of us may be reunited on this side of the River, and it will help if you can do this. It will do people good to see these rites done as they should be, not in the haphazard way we have since we sailed.”
I nodded. “Of course this can be done. I will need help building the pyre, and it will be hard to find enough wood on this island. But it can be done. And I will say the words that are right and proper. You will address their shades, Prince Aeneas?”
He nodded. “I will do it. I have done it before.”
Three men gathered wood and we heaped it for a pyre, across first one way and then the other to build a proper bier. The two men would lie on it together, like brothers. I arranged their limbs as well as I could, for the stiffness was setting in. It was well to do it now, given the heat of the days. There was wine to pour out in libation, the best of Pylos’ vintage, but I had no herbs or resins except the ones for the brazier that induce visions. We would have to do without. I went apart a little and straightened my dress, and repainted my face with the white and the black. I had enough paint for a while, but I should have to make more. The charcoal is easy to find, but the chalk must be rendered with fat carefully. It would be difficult to replace.
While I was apart they had assembled around the bier, quietly, respectfully, for the most part. There were four hundred or so in all, all the people left of Wilusa. When I appeared beside the bier some of the men stepped back. They had seen me in Pylos, but did not know that I had come.
I spoke the words that are right, the Calling of the Descent and the Lady’s Greeting. Sothis rose clear and bright out of the sea.
Prince Aeneas cleared his throat and leaned forward. He touched the torch to the wood. It took some little while to catch. Then he addressed their shades, telling them that they had fulfilled all their oaths in life, that they were revered and praised by their People.
He looked out at the crowd, this ragged bunch of pirates, and I saw what he saw. “My friends, your sacrifice has brought back two score of our blood, reunited our families, given these women back into loving arms, restored these children’s mothers. If you are waiting beside the River, may the ferryman be swift, knowing that he carries heroes who have given their blood for the blood of the People.”
I saw their faces in the firelight. So many young and so few old, so many men and so few women. Clothes that were tattered and could not be replaced without looms. And how can one weave on a ship? Where would the flax and wool come from? How long could we live on stolen food with no fields to plant? We could not live on fish alone.
The fire leaped. I raised my hands in praise and farewell. Two of the rowers started with their drums, a steady beat that got faster. There were flutes then, and the other drummers joined in. I stood still while they began a long, slow dance about the fire, the acrid smoke rolling over us with the smell of burning flesh. I had not seen this dance before, majestic and slow, yet as
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