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Chrysippe

Alovasuri Quilla (Cavalry Archer)

The caravan was the only life she had ever known, although one could tell at a glance that Chrysippe was not one of them by birth. Her golden hair fell in loose tresses about her shoulders, gently framing her lovely face and radiant crystal-blue eyes. She seemed a drastic contrast to the rest of the caravan, who had darker complexions. She was also considerably taller, being more than a head taller than several of the men folk, and much more athletically inclined than the other women and girls.

It was this athleticism that gave Xenathos, the caravan’s patriarch, the idea to have her train in tumbling, which she seemed to naturally excel in. She also seemed to have a nearly unnatural ability to communicate with animals-as if she could tell what an animal was thinking or feeling by spending just a little time with the creature.

This talent of her was especially prevalent with the horses of the caravan, and this gave Xenathos the idea of combining her acrobatics and animal skills. She learned to ride with unsurpassed skill, and demonstrated almost unbelievable ability by doing feats of balance while her horse cantered in a tight circle. Xenathos would bill her to the onlookers at the market places as the “Golden-haired beauty of the horses."

In Xenathos’ caravan, the primary goal was to make money, and everyone was responsible to do his or her part. Some of it was made with some sort of performances; magic, fortune telling, love-potion making and what not. Some of it was made through other methods; pick-pocketing, extortion, prostitution…what ever brought a piece of gold or silver.

Although she was a master pickpocket, Chrysippe, for the most part, was not allowed to participate in many of Xenathos’ darker acquisitions practices. For this she had Alornia, Xenathos’ wife and the woman she knew as mother, to thank.

One day, the caravan came to a halt. The usual routine of the caravan was to camp for a night, work a marketplace or gathering, then leave as soon as possible, usually before dawn the following day. The only time the caravan stopped was to allow for the quiet passage of one of their own. 

This time, the  wagons and tents stood for three days and an uneasy feeling settled onto the group. Chrysippe kept a vigil at Alornia’s side all during this time. The fading old woman squeezed the girl’s hand, gazed into her eyes and smiled weakly. “Have I ever told you the story of how you came to me?” she asked Chrysippe.

“Of course, Mamma. You picked me from a field of wildflowers,” she replied with a smile intended to comfort the woman. That was the story Lorna always told her when she’d ask why she was so different from the others in the caravan. She always knew it was something she was told to avoid the subject, but she pretended now to believe it, if for no other reason than to comfort her dying mother.

Lorna sighed heavily. “You will be sixteen in half a year now,” she began, “and I’m not going to be here to see it. It is time you knew the truth.”

She instructed Chrysippe to go into a locked chest, and from the bottom bring out a bundle wrapped in cloth. Chrysippe unwrapped the bundle and found a finely worked dagger, and a silver amulet. The amulet was made with exquisite craftsmanship and showed the embossed image of a horse leaping over a pair of crossed arrows. Writing in a language she had never seen before surrounded the image. Beads, animal claws and feathers adorned the leather rope it hung from.

Alornia began a story of how she went to a river and came across the remains of a great battle. Men lay dead everywhere, and in the center of it all, a small girl sat crying, holding the blood-soaked hand of a woman lying on the ground. She told of how she approached and knelt down at the girl who, surprisingly, showed no fear of her.

Suddenly, the hand of the woman on the ground, whom she presumed to be dead, reached up and grabbed her. She screamed and stared in terror, then the dying woman said to her, “Take her and care for her as your own. But swear to me that you’ll give her this when she’s old enough to understand who she is.” 

The woman pulled an amulet from around her neck and placed it in Alornia’s hand, then continued. “Her name is Chrysippe,” she said weakly, “and these belong to her now. They are her birthright. My beloved little girl…” The woman began rambling in a language Alornia did not recognize, then the hand gripping her blouse slowly released and the woman spoke no more.

“If Xenathos knew I had these things, he would have sold them for a great price,” Alornia began. “I hid them from him all these years because they are your birthright. I don’t know your mother’s name, but she loved you and protected you with her life. Remember this and guard them as well.”

Shortly after this revelation, the caravan buried Alornia and moved on.

Chrysippe hid the gifts she was given from everyone else and began to feel increasingly estranged from the members of the caravan. Her mind wandered often, and she wanted to know more about who the woman she was told about was. 

One night, Xenathos called Chrysippe to his tent. Three gentlemen sat with him, and gawked obsessively as she entered. She took her place, sitting at Xenathos’ feet. “These gentlemen saw your performance this afternoon and were greatly impressed,” Xenathos smiled slyly. The men grinned and chuckled among themselves.

“She is an incredible beauty, is she not?” The men agreed readily, laughing and smirking more. “And she is untouched besides. Tonight, you may make her a woman.” The men all laughed dirtily. "My price for an evening with her will be 300 gold pieces.”

Chrysippe tried not showing her horror as she realized what the men were bartering over. The blood was rushed to her head, making the world spin. 

It stopped when she heard Xenathos say, “Then the price is set!”  He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him.

The men counted out the gold into a bag, then handed it to Xenathos. As he took it, he shoved Chrysippe towards them, and they chortled maniacally as they pawed her. Her skin crawled. Finally, she felt an explosion inside as her anger and revulsion took over and she began to fight the men.

She never realized what strength she had as she punched and kicked, knocking the men over like dolls. She even thought she heard the crack of bone as she kicked one square in the chest. At the first chance, she ran from the tent, the men angrily hollering for Xenathos, who then called for the rest of the caravan to retrieve her.

Chrysippe ran for her tent and all but dove inside. She grabbed a small satchel and hastily stuffed a few things into it. Lastly, she grabbed the amulet and ran out the door.

From nowhere, Xenathos tackled her to the ground. “You bitch!” he coldly said as he punched her face. “Your mother spoiled you too much. Have you any idea how much money you just cost me?”

Chrysippe tried to fight back, then he spied the amulet. “What’s this? You insult my clients making me loose my deal, then steal from me?”  He reached for the necklace and again Chrysippe exploded.

Freeing a hand, she raked Xenathos’ face. He recoiled in pain and she flipped him off of her, then leaped up and ran towards the horses. ‘If I am going to be accused of being a thief, I may as well become one,’ she thought to herself. She untied the horse that she used in her acrobatic act, leaped to his back and galloped into the night. 

She had no idea how long she rode. When she did stop, her mount's sides were heaving and he was covered in white froth. Dismounting, she listened intently. All she heard was the heavy breathing of her horse and the sounds of the night. She felt sure she was safe and alone, then she wept.

As dawn neared, she attached the sheath of the dagger inside her boot and donned the amulet. Quietly, she swore to herself that she would never remove it. It was the only connection to family she had now.

Months went by. At first, Chrysippe tried to do her acrobatic show. But with no one to call attention to her and to watch the tips basket, she quickly found how futile that was. She turned to her upbringing, making her living taking what she needed from merchants in market squares.  She developed quickly into an exceptional pick-pocket and skillful con-artist.  Her abilities made her even a little cocky.

She stayed camped outside of the towns and cities, with the company only of her horse. She continued to be always on the move, never staying in the same place for more than a night.

One day in the marketplace, she spied a woman browsing among the goods and wares of the local merchants. She was tall, muscular and unusually dressed compared to the other women in the market. But she wore a fat coin pouch on her belt and that’s all that mattered to Chrysippe. She made the woman her new target and stealthily followed her through the market.

When the opportunity presented itself, she bumped into the woman, excused herself for her clumsiness, and reached for the pouch. This trick never failed for her. 

To her surprise, the woman tightly grabbed her wrist. Chrysippe stared into the woman’s eyes, trying desperately to conceal her shock at being caught. The woman caught a glimmer of the amulet and her eyes fell to Chrysippe's neckline.

She twisted Chrysippe's wrist and growled, “Where did you get that?” Chrysippe gasped and fought the urge to buckle to her knees. The woman twisted harder and growled again. 

“My mother gave it to me!” she blurted out.

“Liar! Where did you steal it, urchin?” the woman demanded. 

Chrysippe gazed pleadingly into the woman’s eyes and swore what she said was the truth. The woman stared at her for a few moments, then said, “Tonight I am staying in the inn near the eastern gate of the city. I leave for my homelands at dawn. If what you say is true, then you will meet me there and accompany me back. That amulet is a symbol of my people, and we do not take kindly to thieves. If what you say is true, then perhaps you will want to accompany me home. If you are lying, know that you will be sought out and punished.” As suddenly as she grabbed Chrysippe, she released her, and she scurried off into the crowd like a kicked dog.

Chrysippe's head was spinning. Who was her mother? Alornia never told her who she was, and she had never known how to find out. All she had was the final story of the dead woman on the battlefield. 

She all but ran from the city and back to her makeshift camp. She tried to busy herself by making a small fire and stoking it, sorting through her things, busying herself with menial tasks. All the while her stomach was tight with knots. 

Who was this woman, and who were her people? She was fierce, but there was something in her eye that was almost familiar. She couldn’t explain it. Chrysippe laid on her bedroll that night, staring up at the stars, wondering what she would do. Run away and just keep moving? Follow this woman? If she did, would she find out who she really was?

Chrysippe rose just before dawn and gathered her things. She hadn’t really slept all night. She packed her horse and doused the coals, then headed off towards the eastern gates of the city. When she got there, she kept her distance and stayed out of sight.

Shortly after she arrived, Chrysippe saw the woman ride out the gates. The woman paused on her horse, looked around, then continued down the road. Chrysippe followed cautiously, leading her horse rather than riding, keeping in the rocks, hills and trees that flanked the road. 

Near midmorning, the woman stopped suddenly. “All right, I know you're there,” she called out. “We can keep this up all day, but I would suspect that you're already growing tired of stalking me.” 

Chrysippe's heart raced and she flushed with embarrassment. Slowly, she led her horse to the road, remaining cautious and keeping her distance.

The woman smirked. “Don’t worry, if I was going to hurt you, I would have done it long before now.” Chrysippe wasn’t sure if this was supposed to reassure her or not. “What is your name, child?”  

Chrysippe told her and she nodded. “Very well, Chrysippe, come with me now.” As the woman continued down the road, Chrysippe mounted her horse and followed.

The two rode together for the rest of the day together saying nearly nothing. For the first time she could remember, Chrysippe felt shy and withdrawn, and this kept her quiet. It also kept her a few paces behind the woman.

Since her expulsion from the caravan, she hardened herself into believing that she needed no one, but this was something completely different. It made her nervous, and although her mind was riddled with question, she couldn’t muster enough voice to ask them. 

As dusk colored the sky, the woman spoke out a command. “We’ll make camp here. We will reach the boarders of Themiscrya.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Chrysippe asked. The woman nodded. “I thought I’ve been to nearly everyplace in the world with the caravan, but I’ve never heard of such a place before.”

The woman glanced towards her. “Get the firewood. We’ll talk more when we eat.”

Chrysippe did as she was told. A short time later, when the camp was set and they were nearly finished eating their meal, Chrysippe then found the courage to break the silence. “What does this place have to do with me?”

The woman looked up at the girl. “Because it is where you belong.” Chrysippe scoffed, and the woman glared at you. “Tell me about the amulet you wear.”

Chrysippe shrugged indifferently. “I told you. My mother gave it to me.”

“Who was your mother?”

Chrysippe started to become uncomfortable with this line of questioning. She gazed down into the burning embers of the fire. “I don’t know who my mother is…I mean, Alornia was my mother…I thought she was…she is my mother…” The girl stammered and blushed as she realized how foolish she must have sounded.

“This Alornia, she was not your birth mother.” Chrysippe shook her head as she kept her eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “But she gave you the amulet?”

The girl nodded. “She got it from the dying woman me with. She asked Alornia to give it to me.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “May I see it, please?” Chrysippe glanced up at the woman and instinctually covered the amulet with her hand. “Just for a moment.”

The woman held her hand out, and Chrysippe reluctantly gave it to her. She studied it carefully, a faint smile coming across her lips. “Yes, you belong in Themiscrya for now,” she said. 

Chrysippe peered at her with a puzzled look. The woman looked up from the amulet, snapping her out of the thoughts she was in. “Do you want me to tell you about it?” Chrysippe nodded and the woman smiled. 

"This identifies you as an Amazon. It is passed on from mother to daughter, and is a symbol of your bloodline This tells me that you are of the blood of Hippolyta, the great Queen of the Grecian Amazons. She was the daughter of Otrere and Ares.

"Legend says that on the night of her birth, when she was presented to her tribe, Ares turned himself into a white horse then galloped into the camp. The horse nuzzled the newborn infant, then reared high into the air, as if to offer his approval, before galloping out. That’s how she got the name ‘she who releases the horses.’” 

She looked up and saw the girl was captivated by what she was saying and smiled, then continued. “Hyppolyta went on to lead her nation in many great battles. She had three daughters, and her daughters had daughters. 

"There is a story that one of these daughters’ daughters, Aganippe, whose name means ‘the mare who kills mercifully,’ was a kind and gentle soul. She herself had a daughter, but the Great Centaur Wars had prevented her from dedicating the infant at the Temple of Artemis.

"When peace returned to the Amazons, she took her daughter deep into the mountain forests of Thrace to perform the dedication ritual. When word was sent back to her tribe that Aganippe and her daughter had not reached the temple yet, her sisters sent out a search party," the woman paused a moment and fingered the telling design on the amulet.

"They found her dead, ambushed by mercenaries. Her daughter was nowhere to be found. They searched and searched for the toddler, but no trace of her was uncovered. It was assumed that she was either dead or taken to the slavers. Aganippe’s vessel was offered in the flames of the pyre and all mourned for both her and her daughter, ‘the golden mare’…Chrysippe.”

Chrysippe's mouth gawked in amazement. “I’m…I’m an Amazon Queen?” she stammered.

“No,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “You are the descendant of one. But that does not mean that the blood that courses through your veins is no less noble,” she smiled mockingly at the girl. “It’s late, and I’ve filled your head with too many stories. Time to sleep. We have a long ride tomorrow.” She handed the amulet back to Chrysippe, who replaced it around her neck.

She was right. Her mind was swimming with questions; most prominent was how did this woman know all this? Somehow she did manage to fall asleep, however, her dreams filled with shimmers of the life of a royal Amazon.

Morning came with golden streaks blazing across the sky. Chrysippe was excited and anxious to get going, although she tried to appear reserved and collected. The two broke camp, mounted and continued on their journey. 

Chrysippe was as chatty as the birds in the trees, but the woman was conspicuously quiet. Near mid-afternoon, the woman drew to a halt and dismounted. Chrysippe blinked in amazement and asked what was going on. 

“This is where you travel on alone. I have fulfilled my duty.”

Chrysippe peered at the older woman and insisted that she had to come with her. “They’ll never believe me…but you, they have to believe you.” She dismounted and stood before the woman.

“Chrysippe,” the woman began, “you will prove yourself to them by your own merits. You know who you are now, and that’s all that matters. The Amazons are a noble, fierce race. Never advance on them, unless prepared to meet them in battle. Never run away unless you are admitting defeat. Always stand your ground and be as strong as the oak in the forest.”

She paused a moment and then said, “I have something for you.” She turned and pulled something lightly wrapped in cloth from her saddlebags, and handed it to Chrysippe. 

The girl unwrapped the bundle and found a beautifully crafted pair of sais. The pommel was cast with the image of totem animals spiraling up to the top, which was the stylized image of a proud horse. The hilt cascaded gracefully down like wings, and the blades gracefully descended into razor-sharp ends.

“They will never break, for they have been blessed by the goddess, and when the time comes, you will know how to use them with great skill. But you will need to practice and train. You must learn the ways of the Amazon.” Chrysippe began to protest, but she quieted her. “There lies your path, Chrysippe.” She pointed behind the girl. 

Chrysippe followed the woman's finger, turning to glance into the thick forest before them.  When she looked back, she found herself alone.

“Where are you? I can’t do this by myself!” She felt her stomach tighten in knots. “Where did you go?” she demanded into the air. She began to search for tracks to follow, but found only those of her horse.

A voice filled Chrysippe’s mind through her rage and fear. “Plie pistevo benba tu, sumani paros," I believe in you. 

She took a deep breath, mounted her horse and started out in the direction where the woman had pointed. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, or even exactly where she was going, but she held tightly to the sais as she rode. Suddenly, her amulet felt heavier than usual round her neck.

Tae'Nah athelfi arche: 5 Dec 2002
   
 

   

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