He’d dismissed the slave and was making his own way towards her. Unable to contain her excitement, she stood turning to face him, then gasped with delight as she saw that he was even more beautiful than she remembered. He was dark for a hunter, his skin burnt and coloured by the African sun, but it only enhanced the natural symmetry of his face and the chiselled features more often seen on statues than living flesh.
He grinned and quickened his pace. Shelpa had wanted so hard to be unaffected and in charge of this reunion, but she couldn’t hide her joy at seeing him again; she also took a few steps closer. Then he was enfolding her in his arms and reaching for her face to open her mouth to taste her essence.
She drew back, noting happily that he was still trying to take charge and dominate. She smiled and reached for his cheek, cradled it and slipped her thumb between his jaws. Agis acknowledged her intention and dominance by lowering his face to allow her to enfold his lips in hers. She could see that he was amused, and already the challenge and rivalry between them was back. Hungrily she pulled at his life force, it had been too long since she’d tasted this and she was eagerly anticipating his unique flavour.
But she was disappointed: his essence when it came pouring into her mouth wasn’t as sweet as she remembered. It had a slightly bitter taste, it was still powerful though, but just not as rich as she was expecting. Surprised and a little deflated, she drew back to allow him his turn. She realised what was wrong almost immediately: she was used to Cimon’s sweetness. It had been part of the reason she’d melded him in the first place and poor Agis couldn’t compete with his brother when it came to essence, but Agis had other compensations. His hands were wandering all over her body now; clearly another equally pressing urge was kicking in. She pulled her mouth away and searched his face.
“I’ve missed you,” he told her quietly, his ardour giving an extra gleam to his amber eyes.
“You shouldn’t have been gone so long. You knew where I was,” she answered, fighting the desire to kiss and hold him closer again.
He spoke through clenched teeth, urging her to understand. “I had to travel, Shelpa. You know that. You’ve been like me. I had to see the world.”
“You could have come back to see me, to let me know that you were all right.”
His answer was rapid, his desire making it more of an urgent growl. “If I had come back I would never have left again. You know that. And I had to be away. But now I’m here, I won’t leave you again.”
Pretty words, Shelpa decided, but then Agis always could say the most beautiful things and that combined with his lovely face had saved him trouble on numerous occasions. It helped him now, and with a feeling of inevitability she smiled as she forgave him and slipped her hand up to stroke his cheek. Cyrus wouldn’t be impressed with her, but Cyrus wasn’t here and anyway he always forgave Artemnisia and the others when they returned after long absences, so he wasn’t really in a position to judge her. Agis kissed her then, invading her thoughts and putting an end to any other considerations she might have had.
***
The first snow of the winter drifted lazily around Inga and settled on her cloak before melting into water. This afternoon as her mother was preparing their evening meal, she’d realised that she didn’t have enough berries for the stew. So Inga had been sent out in the last light to check if the last remaining berries on the bush had ripened.
She wasn’t scared of the forest. She had been as a child, especially of the ghost stories the older children and the elders had told as they had sat around the fire, but now Goodman was here, there was nothing to be scared of. He’d watch over and protect everyone in the settlement. When the priest of the earth goddess had visited a few weeks ago, they’d made the usual sacrifices to her at the waterfall and once again the animals had been swept without any hindrance at all into the waiting arms of the hunters. That had only happened once before that she could remember, and that was last year when Goodman had hunted for them. Everyone had taken it as a sign that he’d provide for them again this winter. If the animals sacrificed to the goddess had become snared and caught by the river it was a sign that they would go hungry in the winter, but with the animals flowing straight into the hunters’ hands it was a sure sign that food would be abundant. Inga hoped so; three new hunters had arrived at the village and with them came their families because the settlement was doing well and could cope with the extra mouths better than some of the other villages.
The priest of the mother goddess had had no idea who Goodman was and had spent several hours in prayer at his hillside to no avail. That had amused Inga, and she was glad that the horrible old priest hadn’t been able to communicate with the god. If he hadn’t spoken with Mutta then what chance did an outsider have? So Goodman remained a mystery to everyone, providing food when he wanted to and then nothing for days on end. Though they had begun to see a pattern. He normally left food every other day, but suddenly he’d leave extra meat every day for a period of time, after that there’d be nothing from him for weeks on end, until without any warning, he’d start to leave it again.
Most people believed that he left the valley and travelled around or visited other tribes. Some even thought that he went back to the other gods, but they all recognised the signs of his leaving and realised that he’s prepared them for his absence by giving them more food to tide them over. As Inga trudged through the forest now, she knew that Goodman was around and in the same forest somewhere, maybe even watching her.
Eventually she came to the bush and to her relief there were many ripe berries now glistening in the twilight. Happily she pulled out a cloth bag and began picking the berries. So engrossed was she that she didn’t hear the new hunter approach her until he grabbed her shoulder and spoke.
“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he demanded, pulling her sharply around to face him.
Inga winced with pain and shock, bur recovered herself. “I’m picking berries, my mother sent me.” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice because of all the hunters who could have found her this was the worst one. His name was Cerlic and no one in their right mind wanted to be alone with this man.
Cerlic glared at her. “What mother sends her child out at night? You could be eaten by wolves, and other creatures. A child’s life isn’t worth a few berries. You’ll come back with me.”
“No wolves come here,” Inga told him somewhat contemptuously. “They stay away because of Goodman and it’s not dark yet. Besides, my mother wants me to get the berries; she’ll be cross if I don’t.”
“Don’t argue,” he growled and physically dragged her away from the bush, then manhandled her so that she was in front of him and he could guide her forward by the painful grip he had on her shoulder.
“Ow, that hurts,” she complained loudly but there was no one to hear her. Cerlic didn’t adjust his grip, but continued to push her along despite her protests. ”I have to get the berries! That’s why I’m here, please let me just finish.” He ignored her and soon she gave up trying.
Inga hated this man with good reason. He watched the children. They all knew it and talked about it, but no one had dared say anything to their parents or elders as he was one of the new hunters sent from their leader in Braunlaga. He was meant to be one of the best hunters amongst their people and it was an honour to have him to come and live with them. But the children didn’t see it as an honour. She’d seen him looking at Katya a few months ago and he’d been holding his manhood as he’d watched her. This wasn’t the only time; most of the other children had seen him spying on them and touching himself there. They all tried to avoid him but today she’d fallen right into his clutches.
At least they were nearly at the level pasture near the edge of the forest, which was close to home. She let herself believe that it would be all right and he’d let her go once they were out of the forest. But to her horror he stopped. She daren’t make a noise in case he hurt her further. He seemed to be considering somethi
ng. After a few moments he pushed her around so that she was facing away from the settlement and he began to guide her forward.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked trying to keep the fear from her words.
He didn’t answer but increased the pace. Mentally Inga called out a prayer to Goodman that he might come and intervene, but she didn’t hold out much hope. Then she heard voices. Cerlic heard them as well and stopped her. She heard him curse under his breath. The other hunters were coming back to the village; they would see them and ask what was happening.
Suddenly he let go. “Go home, girl, and if you say anything I’ll cut your throat and throw you down a ravine. Go!”
Inga didn’t wait to answer him, as soon as he released his grip she ran for all she was worth and made straight for the village and home. She gave the few berries she’d found to her mother and explained that as it was dark she’d been advised by Cerlic, the new hunter, to go home and get the rest tomorrow. Her mother hadn’t been happy, but as Cerlic was a hunter, she couldn’t really argue with it.
Inga had bad dreams for most of the night and kept waking every few hours sweating in terror. In the cold night, snuggled next to her sister, she remembered that she was safe and Cerlic was far away and not in this hut, but even though she soon fell back to sleep the nightmares kept coming.
She was wakened by her mother’s surprised cries in the morning.
“Gert, look at this,” her mother demanded holding out something to her father who was emerging blurry-eyed from their small chamber.
“It’s a bag, Sabine. What’s so special about a bag?” he asked running his hand through his already untidy hair.
“We don’t own a bag like it and I found it outside the house this morning.” Inga could hear the excitement but also worry in her mother’s voice.
“What’s in it?” Gert asked looking down at the small leather pouch. Inga and Katya exchanged glances and crept out of the bed to see what the commotion was all about.
“I don’t know. Shall I look?” her mother asked anxiously. Gert took the bag from his wife, pulled open the ties and felt inside. After a moment he looked at this wife and held out a shining red berry. Inga gasped. Her mother frowned in bewilderment, especially when Gert emptied more of the berries into the palm of his hand.
“I don’t understand, I sent Inga to get those berries last night but Cerlic stopped her and she only got a few. Why are there more today?”
Katya peered at the bag and the berries still in her father’s hand. “Maybe Cerlic went out last night and gathered the rest to say sorry?”
Inga didn’t think so; she knew who’d done this. But her father was speaking and he wasn’t convinced by Katya’s explanation either. “ Cerlic had a drink last night and when I came home he was in no state to go into the forest. Besides, this pouch isn’t like any other bag I’ve seen.” He paused and regarded it more closely. He looked up at his wife. “I think it’s Roman.”
“Goodman,” her mother whispered quietly. “He left them for us?”
He nodded. “I think so. We’d better tell Mutta.” They looked at each other and then at Inga.
“Inga. Is there something you’re not telling us?” her mother asked.
Inga looked at her parents. Now was her chance to explain about Cerlic and how he’d treated her, though it would lead to all sorts of accusations and problems, but it would be worth it if it meant that he stopped watching them and doing whatever else he’d wanted to do.
“Cerlic and I argued. I didn’t want to go home before I’d picked all the berries, but he made me and pushed me. Goodman must have heard us fighting and picked the berries for me.” She slipped her dress over her shoulder to show the mark where he’d held her.
Katya gasped. “I knew he’d do something like that.”
But her mother was angry with her. “Inga, sometimes I despair of you. Why are you so wilful? Clerclic is a respected hunter and an adult. In future you don’t argue with him.” Inga tried to speak, but before she could her mother interrupted her. “No, I’ll hear no more about it. Later we’ll go to Mutta and tell her what happened, then we’ll drop a honey cake off at Goodman’s hill.”
But her father was quiet, and continued to look at both of them whilst her mother was speaking. When she’d finished he finally spoke. “Inga, and you, Katya, you must both be careful who you speak to about this. Do you understand?” Inga and Katya both nodded. “But watch out and try not to be alone with Cerlic. Tell your friends that as well.”
Her mother was shocked. “You’re not taking them seriously, are you?”
Gert looked at his wife. “Anyone who uses force on my child or any child demands watching. Inga is many things, but she’s not a liar and so I suggest that we both keep an eye on this man.”
Her mother frowned then nodded. “I’ll tell Mutta as well.” Her father nodded in agreement and handed the bag to Inga’s mother.
Chapter Sixteen
The whole village had gathered at the base of Goodman’s sacred hill. They were there to appeal to the god to ask for his help in the coming months. Helmut, the village leader, had had the idea a few days ago and he’d approached Mutta with the suggestion that they offer an animal to him in the same way they sacrificed to the mother goddess.
But Mutta wasn’t sure about this; Goodman was a hunter and had no shortage of meat. A sacrifice of honey cakes would’ve been more to his taste, she thought, but Helmut had been determined, so here they were gathering in the snow at the base of the slope by the blocks of stone. Two men led the animals for sacrifice through the crowd and stopped them at the boundary. They were good animals: a black foal born this year and a fecund heifer, both prize animals.
This wasn’t what she normally did as a herb woman, but Helmut has insisted that she call upon the god and he’d then make the sacrifice. She preferred to work alone in private, healing and bringing children into the world and occasionally protecting her people from otherworldly predators, though she’d not had to do that here yet, and hopefully never would.
Helmut called for quiet and the crowd stopped muttering and became silent as requested, then at a nod from their leader, they began to sing the song they had invented for Goodman. Once they’d finished, Mutta called to the god asking him to honour them with his presence and listen to their plea. After a few moments of quiet stillness she nodded to Helmut. The animals were moved into place and Helmut lifted the sacrificial knife above his head and called to Goodman to accept the offering, but before he could bring the knife down, a clump of snow hit him with force on the chest, causing the blade to fall harmlessly from his grip onto the floor.
People looked around anxiously to discover where it had come from, but no one could see any evidence of who or what might have thrown it. Mutta looked at Helmut; it was obvious to her: Goodman didn’t want them to waste the animals. People were muttering and whispering anxiously to each other, but Helmut was dusting himself down, then he called for silence again.
He picked up the knife and lifted it above his head and brought it down before anyone could stop him. This time the ball of snow intercepted Helmut’s hand before he could make contact with the animal and once again the knife fell to the floor.
Mutta decided that enough was enough and it was time to end this farce. She stepped forward pushing the animals out of the way and thanked the god for his clemency and his continued support. Then she turned back to the people and indicated that the ritual was over. Helmut was muttering and glaring at her.
“He doesn’t want it. He’s made that perfectly clear. Take the animals and use them for what they were meant for,” she told him.
Helmut nodded. “You were right, Mutta, you know this god better than I do. I should’ve listened to you.”
“This god breaks all the rules, Helmut. We were only doing what we thought he’d want. He’s different, but at least he lets us know what displeases him.”
“Honey cake then?” Helmut smiled at her.
“I think we stick to that, yes,” she agreed.
Gradually the people traipsed back down to the village until she was the only one left. She wanted to be alone for a moment. This was beyond her comprehension, never had she heard about a god that actually communicated with his people. She’d need to send word to the other herb women and ask for their advice. But first, she had to be sure that it really was a god they were dealing with. When she’d trained as a wise woman, she’d been taught about the other creatures that could walk the earth. Not all skulked about in the dark, some moved in daylight and could easily masquerade as gods. She needed to see him. Even the briefest glimpse would give some indication if he truly was a god or something much worse and far more dangerous.
Mutta paused in her reflections, realising that she wasn’t alone, standing quietly to one side was the child, Inga; the only one who’d any had form of communication with him. “He prefers honey cake,” she told the little girl, who nodded in agreement.
“I don’t understand why we would kill our animals for him, when he hunts them for us so we can eat. It never made sense, did it?” Inga questioned.
“It’s what we usually do for gods, but Goodman isn’t like any god we know,” she replied, whilst peering up the slope to see if she could see any evidence of the god, who must have been there only moments ago.
She heard Inga move next to her and when she glanced around, the girl had placed a small blue stone on one of the boulders and was whispering quietly to herself.
Mutta waited for her to finish before asking what she was doing, though it was self-evident.
Inga blushed. “I left a stone like this in spring after I saw him. In return, he left me some flowers I hadn’t seen before. He likes this sort of stone and I found it in the river.”
For a moment Mutta was cross with the girl for not mentioning this before when she’d received the rabbits a few weeks ago. But it was too late now and if she admonished the child, then she certainly wouldn’t say more to her. She’d have to be careful as Inga seemed to have some strange rapport with this enigmatic creature, especially after the berry incident as well.