not answer, but looked at Morna. She stared back, and Arika thought she detected a glint of triumph in her daughter’s eyes before she broke again into wailing sobs.
Ronan turned away. “Na,” he said stonily. “I did not touch my sister.”
“He did! He did!” Morna sobbed. “He said that we should mate, that he would rule with me and bring the Way of Sky God to share the Way of the Mother. Then, when I said I would not, he tore my clothes and tried to…tried to…” Morna broke once more into wild weeping.
“If Morna’s tale is true, why is there no mark upon Ronan?” It was Neihle’s voice. Arika’s brother looked at her. “His clothes were not disordered when we came up with him,” Neihle said, “and his hair is tidy. There are no fingernail marks upon him, Mistress. No sign he has been in a struggle.” Neihle turned to his nephew. “What happened, Ronan?” he asked.
“Morna wanted to lie with me,” Ronan answered. His voice was flat and oddly still. “It was I who refused, not her.”
“Liar!” Morna screamed. “He held me down so I could not fight him, then when I started to scream, he ran away!” Her hand was at her breast, holding her torn garment together. She glared defiantly at Neihle. “If he was not guilty, why did he run away?”
“That is so,” Arika heard herself saying. “He proved his guilt when he ran away.” She looked again at her son. “I should have exposed you when you were born,” she said and saw the shock of her words in his eyes. She continued bitterly, “I knew it, yet I was weak. I can afford to be weak no longer.” Her gaze moved from Ronan to scan the circle of men who were watching her. She did not like what she saw upon their faces.
Tyr, Ronan’s friend, broke the silence. “You cannot have considered Neihle’s words, Mistress. If there was an attempt at rape, Ronan should bear the marks of it.”
Now Ronan spoke. “Morna lies, Mistress.” His eyes burned with a keen cold light. “She lies, and I am thinking that you know it.”
“I am not lying!” Morna screamed, sensing that the tide of sympathy was swinging against her. She put her hand upon her mother’s arm. “He tried to rape me, Mother. He is not marked because I could not fight him—he is too strong!” She stared furiously around the circle of men’s faces. “I am not lying!”
They thought perhaps she was. it was written on every male face there. Arika looked at her brother, looked at her son, and understood the extent of her danger.
I must get rid of him now, Arika thought. If I wait any longer, it will be too late. She looked again at the faces of the men crowded into the hut. It may already be too late.
She closed her eyes briefly, summoning to her aid all the power of the Goddess. She drew herself up, and authority streamed from every inch of her being. “Hear me,” she said. “I am the Mistress of this tribe. I am the Voice of the Mother, the Goddess on Earth. This boy has dared to lay an incestuous hand upon my daughter, the Chosen One of the Mother, and he must be cast out.”
Her voice deepened, and the power of the Goddess came over her. Arika could feel it, coursing in her veins, throbbing in her voice. She stared at Neihle, forcing his will to bend to hers. She said, “Anyone who disobeys this command will bear my curse.”
A shudder ran throughout the men. The hut was deathly silent. Even Morna’s weeping had stilled. Arika kept her eyes on Neihle. “This boy is a danger to all the tribe,” she said. “An enemy of the Way of the Mother.” She saw the faintest flicker of recognition in Neihle’s eyes. He knew, she thought. He knew she spoke the truth. “The Mother says he must be cast out.”
Some of the men looked to Neihle, but he said nothing. At last Arika turned to Ronan. “You are to leave this place by fall of night. I will send word to the tribes who dwell near us that none of them is to take you in. You bear my curse,” Arika said. “My
Ronan turned away. “Na,” he said stonily. “I did not touch my sister.”
“He did! He did!” Morna sobbed. “He said that we should mate, that he would rule with me and bring the Way of Sky God to share the Way of the Mother. Then, when I said I would not, he tore my clothes and tried to…tried to…” Morna broke once more into wild weeping.
“If Morna’s tale is true, why is there no mark upon Ronan?” It was Neihle’s voice. Arika’s brother looked at her. “His clothes were not disordered when we came up with him,” Neihle said, “and his hair is tidy. There are no fingernail marks upon him, Mistress. No sign he has been in a struggle.” Neihle turned to his nephew. “What happened, Ronan?” he asked.
“Morna wanted to lie with me,” Ronan answered. His voice was flat and oddly still. “It was I who refused, not her.”
“Liar!” Morna screamed. “He held me down so I could not fight him, then when I started to scream, he ran away!” Her hand was at her breast, holding her torn garment together. She glared defiantly at Neihle. “If he was not guilty, why did he run away?”
“That is so,” Arika heard herself saying. “He proved his guilt when he ran away.” She looked again at her son. “I should have exposed you when you were born,” she said and saw the shock of her words in his eyes. She continued bitterly, “I knew it, yet I was weak. I can afford to be weak no longer.” Her gaze moved from Ronan to scan the circle of men who were watching her. She did not like what she saw upon their faces.
Tyr, Ronan’s friend, broke the silence. “You cannot have considered Neihle’s words, Mistress. If there was an attempt at rape, Ronan should bear the marks of it.”
Now Ronan spoke. “Morna lies, Mistress.” His eyes burned with a keen cold light. “She lies, and I am thinking that you know it.”
“I am not lying!” Morna screamed, sensing that the tide of sympathy was swinging against her. She put her hand upon her mother’s arm. “He tried to rape me, Mother. He is not marked because I could not fight him—he is too strong!” She stared furiously around the circle of men’s faces. “I am not lying!”
They thought perhaps she was. it was written on every male face there. Arika looked at her brother, looked at her son, and understood the extent of her danger.
I must get rid of him now, Arika thought. If I wait any longer, it will be too late. She looked again at the faces of the men crowded into the hut. It may already be too late.
She closed her eyes briefly, summoning to her aid all the power of the Goddess. She drew herself up, and authority streamed from every inch of her being. “Hear me,” she said. “I am the Mistress of this tribe. I am the Voice of the Mother, the Goddess on Earth. This boy has dared to lay an incestuous hand upon my daughter, the Chosen One of the Mother, and he must be cast out.”
Her voice deepened, and the power of the Goddess came over her. Arika could feel it, coursing in her veins, throbbing in her voice. She stared at Neihle, forcing his will to bend to hers. She said, “Anyone who disobeys this command will bear my curse.”
A shudder ran throughout the men. The hut was deathly silent. Even Morna’s weeping had stilled. Arika kept her eyes on Neihle. “This boy is a danger to all the tribe,” she said. “An enemy of the Way of the Mother.” She saw the faintest flicker of recognition in Neihle’s eyes. He knew, she thought. He knew she spoke the truth. “The Mother says he must be cast out.”
Some of the men looked to Neihle, but he said nothing. At last Arika turned to Ronan. “You are to leave this place by fall of night. I will send word to the tribes who dwell near us that none of them is to take you in. You bear my curse,” Arika said. “My
Similar Books
