Please, Cathy.
If you could have anyone rescue you, who
would it be?
For the captive princess Thalassai in Moon of the Goddess her first choice of
rescuer is her brother Melanion, but she also imagines that Herakles might come
and save her. The first night of her captivity, she sees the stars of his
constellation standing just above the hilltop. That hero had saved the people
of Lerna from the deadly Hydra, and the people of Nemea from the lion. Herakles
would be able to save her from the prince of Ephyra who had captured her. She
imagines climbing to a place where she could reach up and touch his stars,
calling him to her side.
But she is a sheltered, pampered princess.
She has never climbed a pathless hillside. And she knows that even from the
highest mountain, the stars are out of reach. Besides, the stories say that
Herakles was once driven mad by Hera, that he killed his loved ones in that
strange state. Perhaps he is not completely trustworthy.
Her brother is. Thalassai is certain that
her brother Melanion is already on his way to save her. She imagines him rowing
by the light of the moon, hurrying to save her. She is absolutely certain he
will come. Be quick, she thinks. Come and save me, Melanion. I am so afraid.
She is right that Melanion is on his way. But
she is wrong about how he is travelling. He races north and west on his
stallion, with his long time companion and a servant of the goddess hoping to
get to the kidnappers’ city before anything happens to Thalassai.
Who would I want to rescue me?
Myself. I would rather be in control of my
own destiny. So in the story, Thalassai has to gain enough strength to
contribute to her own salvation. But if I had to have help, how about Alice
Munro, Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austin. Those
writers know a good ending.
Thalassai, pampered princess of ancient Tiryns, wakes
from a dream and discovers she has been kidnapped. Her fear grows to terror
when she realizes her kidnappers intend to use her as a pawn to gain Poseidon’s
aid for their valley. The mother goddess, who in the past sustained the valley,
calls a bloodred harvest moon into the spring sky. She will challenge Poseidon
for the allegiance of her people and assist the princess.
Thalassai’s brother Melanion rides north to rescue her,
and finds allies among the servants of the goddess. Slowed by bandits, Melanion
is forced to take a tunnel under the mountains even though earthquakes have
rendered it hazardous. He skirts the edge of Hades’ kingdom as he races to
reach his sister in time. Caught between the mother goddess and the rising
power of Olympus, will Thalassai break under the strain or find the strength
she needs to stand up to her captors?
Set in the days of Helen of Troy and the great heroes of
Greece, this story takes the reader on a fast paced journey across the
sun-drenched landscape of Homer and deep into darkness.
In this excerpt of the story, we join the
rescuers late in their journey…
Melanion turned and slid his feet sideways. With the
wall of the tunnel just a handspan from his face, he felt confined. It seemed
as if the darkness resisted his forward movement. There was not a breath of
movement in the heavy air.
A moment later, there was no rock in front of him. He
leaned back on the rough wall as Panacea stepped from the cleft to stand beside
him. The darkness extended in all directions, and he smelled a hint of sulfur.
His lamp felt tiny in his hands. He could not judge the size of the cavern.
“There is the
first white stone.” Panacea pointed to the ground just at the edge of their
lamplight.
“White stone,” came a quiet echo from across the
cavern.
“The echo took a long time to come back,” said
Melanion. “This chamber is huge.”
“Time…huge,” repeated an echo of his voice.
“We had best start across then, and get to the other
side,” said Panacea softly.
“Start,” the echo said.
Only start, thought Melanion. Why
did the echo only pick up some words? “Let’s cross,” he said.
“Cross?” asked the echo.
“Just don’t say anything,” whispered Panacea, her lips
too close to his ear for the echo to pick up her voice.
Melanion nodded. The shadow of his head danced against
the rock wall. Panacea leaned away from the side of the cavern, and Melanion
stepped forward beside her. Darkness closed in behind them. They reached the
first white rock; the next sat just at
the edge of the light. Melanion counted the rocks as they passed them, a way of
measuring the distance in the empty darkness.
“Here,” came the echo of a whisper.
“Who is there?” Panacea asked.
“There, there, there,” said the echo. “Here,” it
whispered.
“Who else would be here,” said Melanion, trying to
ignore the echo of his words. Panacea shook her head and said nothing. They moved
on past another white stone, and another. The rock beneath their feet seemed to
shiver slightly, then felt solid again. He glanced at Panacea, but she was
looking straight ahead. Maybe he had imagined the tremor. The ground sloped a
little downward; they were nearing the other side. As they stepped past another
white stone, Melanion stopped. He could not see the next marker.
Melanion touched Panacea’s elbow lightly, avoiding
speech and the echo. They took a small step forward, and another. Melanion looked
back and could just see the stone they had passed. Nothing marked the path
forward.
“What now?” he asked.
“What, what, what?” asked the echo.
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