The Moon Riders by Theresa Tomlinson

Author:Theresa Tomlinson
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, General, Historical, Ancient Civilizations
ISBN: 9780060847388
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-01T21:11:25+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Bitter and Wise

PENTHESILEA’S ANGER MADE the whole company flinch and there was a moment of silence. But Peiroos got up again, shaking his head. “I still counsel patience—we must have patience. We have received word from King Memnon of Ethiopia that he is coming himself, leading an army of his fiercest fighters. He reviles the thought of Agamemnon’s rule spreading throughout the whole of Anatolia as much as any. No, my fierce Daughter of the War God, we will not sit here on our backsides; we will train and gather support while we wait for the Ethiopians and hone our weapons. Then, with King Memnon’s aid, we will have an army, sharp for battle, that can truly ride to the aid of Troy and throw the Achaeans back into the sea.”

Penthesilea answered him through gritted teeth. “I like it not, warrior man. Patience is hard to find, but . . . I do see the sense in your words.”

Atisha stood up and gave her approval of Peiroos’s plan. She seemed relieved that Penthesilea, though burning for a fight, had agreed to wait. The Moon Riders had always respected the fierce Thracian tribesmen. They would be able to work together well.

“Let all the tribes go to the Place of Flowing Waters to carry out our Spring Celebrations just as we always do,” Atisha suggested. “The Achaeans know of our rites; they will suspect nothing. But this year our songs and dances will disguise a war gathering. All the traveling tribes have suffered bitterly over these past years and I swear the survivors are ready to make their last and final stand. This time we cannot let the Achaeans swamp us with numbers.”

Myrina could not help feeling a welling sense of disappointment. Her stomach churned with fury as she saw in her mind the swift punishment that she longed to hand out to Achilles’ Ant Men. She wanted to leap up at once and ride after them, shooting all the warriors full of arrows until they looked like falling porcupines. A desperate desire for action grew in her, while those around her seemed to do nothing but talk and talk. It was difficult to sit still, listening to it all; she shuffled her feet constantly, her heart bursting with hatred.

Peiroos and Penthesilea argued on about tactics, but Myrina’s gang was aware of their Snake Lady’s inward struggle. They never left her side, always ready to stroke her back or hold her hands. Bremusa, always the practical one, brought food and drink and stood over Myrina, insisting that it was consumed.

The war council was at last coming to an end as the sun began to sink. There seemed to be grim agreement all round, but before they could start to disperse, Atisha once more struggled to her feet, demanding that they listen to her. Her voice had lost its old strength, but her powerful storyteller’s sense of timing held her audience in silence.

“This plan has all my blessing,” she approved as her gaze swept about the gathering, “but there is one more thing that we should do.

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