Chapter 4

The High Priestess sat cross legged in the Inner Sanctum, the stars beautiful as they twinkled overhead. Dawn’s pale light turned the sky a soft shade of pink.

Annie struggled to keep her emotions in check as she walked over the cool grass, patches of moss soft and plushy beneath her feet. It was the first morning in decades Helion wouldn’t be there to celebrate Father Sun as He rose.

Annie knelt beside Naomi at the base of the hill, neither of them speaking.

Their little Terrestrial Temple wasn’t as grandiose or awe-inspiring as the one in Civitas Riparia with its babbling brooks and exotic flowers, but it was no less beautiful or sacred. There was a certain humility about the ordinary wildflowers and dandelions that dotted the landscape. Morning and evening glories climbed the stone walls that enclosed the Inner Sanctum, growing up over the edges. The wall supplied privacy, but the lack of a roof gave the sanctum a naturalistic quality.

The white petals of the evening glories were as pure as fresh cream, their smell pleasing as the two women sat together in weary silence. Annie had no words. Questions rattled around in her head, but she didn’t know where to begin.

Naomi sighed, dark circles under her eyes and worry lines around mouth aging her. “You must eat now, Annika. Eat and prepare yourself for three days of fasting and prayer.”

Annie sighed, exhausted beyond belief. Fear, confusion, and carnal pleasures had taken their toll. “Why? Silent contemplation and communication with the gods is the last thing on my mind.”

The older woman scowled. “You are a priestess. Fasting, prayer, and silent contemplation became your duties when you took your vows.”

“What about returning Torric, Reuben, and Hershel to Mother Earth? Wood will have to be gathered for Helion’s funeral pyre. Is the midsummer festival canceled? How will we split up duties?” snapped Annie.

Naomi ignored the cutting tone in Annie’s voice, infuriating the younger woman even more. “You leave all that to me. We will leave the people to their bonfires, but our midsummer plans have changed.”

Jullius hadn’t been lying about the ritual.

Annie began to cry silently, hot tears slid down her cheeks. Her anger made her words sharp as bitterness took root in her heart. “How can you ask me to do such a thing?”

Naomi’s face fell, sadness etched into the lines at the corners of her eyes. She scooted around to face Annie, taking her hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. Annie’s heart softened at the gentle touch, suddenly ashamed of her snippiness. Naomi’s hands were rough and calloused from a life of hard service to gods and human beings.

“Your connection to the gods, Jocasta in particular, is strong. I knew you were destined for something great when your father brought you here all those years ago. Your devotion to your prayers and your knowledge of dreams, visions, and their interpretations was remarkable. Since then, you’ve only gotten stronger and wiser.” Naomi smiled sadly.

“Why did he leave me here?” asked Annie. “For all these years, I’d childishly hoped it was because you wanted me.”

The High Priestess winced, looking away. Annie let the silence between them grow long and awkward. She could bear it. Naomi owed her answers.

“Titus wrote to me and told me of your great promise. He said that under my tutelage, you would grow into something more akin to a prophetess than a priestess. I was intrigued.” Her eyes darted to Annie’s for a brief moment before she looked away again. “And I admit I was curious about you.”

“Did I disappoint you? Is that why you always kept me at a distance?”

Naomi shook her head, face twisted with emotion. “Oh, no. You are incredible. But I could not love you the way a mother should love her only daughter. The circumstances surrounding your conception and birth broke me.”

Annie grieved for Naomi, the woman’s suffering no small burden to bear. She was a victim just as much as Annie was, if not more so.

The High Priestess smiled bitterly. “I’ve always been surprised that a man as intelligent as Titus is so dismissive of the strawberry midsummer prophecy. He’s called it nonsense for twenty odd years. I wish he were here to see it unfold before our very eyes.”

Annie’s mouth ran dry, Jocasta’s visions flashing across her memory. “Do you really believe that?”

Naomi’s expression hardened. “I had a vision at the Celestial Shrine last night.”

Annie held her breath, heart sinking in her chest.

“These are troubled times we live in. The hearts of men and women ache for power and riches above all things - even good things like truth and love.” The old woman’s gaze drifted up toward the brightening sky, the moon and stars no longer visible. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “This was Helion’s favorite time of the day.”

Annie bowed her head, the Canticle of the Morning soft on her lips. She would no longer weep for Helion. Such a good and faithful servant had been raised to glory, his soul forever joined to his god. He now shined with the white hot intensity of Father Sun’s goodness. When Annie finished singing, Naomi wiped her tears away.

“These dark omens sent me to the shrine. Jocasta had not blessed me with a vision since I left her service, but I hoped she would comfort me for old times sake.” Naomi’s voice was faint, barely more than a whisper. “I made my way up those damnable stairs, all the old prayers and hymns of my youth coming back to me. Helion and Sir Reuben followed. They wanted comfort, too. We sat up there for hours by the pool. Just as I was about to give up, Mother Earth appeared before me,” said Naomi.

Birds began to chirp their joyful greetings, making the events of last night even more obscene. What was it about the human heart that made it thirst for violence?

Naomi continued. “She reached out and touched me on the brow, the vision rushing over me. I was in a field, reaping wheat, when a sweet little doe appeared from among the sheaves. I offered her a handful of kernels and she ate from my hand. But then a terrible black stag leapt towards us, snorting as he lowered his horns. The doe ran off, but he was too fast for her. He mounted her, rutting hard enough to break her. When the stag was finished, he left the poor thing writhing in agony, her hips crushed.”

Annie sighed. Julius wanted her to have his child, Prince of Peace or not. If he was to kill her, he would at least wait until after the babe was born.

“I looked down and there was a sacrificial dagger in my hand. I had to put the poor thing out of her misery. But her belly swelled and soon she was in labor, a pure white fawn emerging from her. It sprang off. When she began to moan, I cut her throat.” Naomi watched Annie intently.

The young priestess shook with rage, tears streaming down her face.

“What do you think that means, Annika?”

Annie leapt to her feet. “Why don’t the gods ask me what I want? I have served them faithfully for years and this is how they repay me? I don’t want this!”

Naomi reached out to take her hand, but Annie turned away.

“How can you do this to me, Naomi? After everything you’ve been through!” Annie sobbed, her raw emotion spilling out of her.

The High Priestess stood, grabbing Annie by the shoulders and turning her around. The heartbreak on Naomi’s face gave the young woman pause.

“This is a great honor, Annie. You will be the Mother of Peace,” whispered Naomi.

Annie forced a laugh. “What about all the other priestesses to Jocasta who will be attacked by deranged men on midsummer? Maybe one of their babies will be the ‘Prince of Peace’.”

Naomi shook her head. “Who is Julius Innominus if not the god of war? Who are you if not Jocasta, as pure and as lovely as the moonlight. Do not run from your fate. Embrace it.”

Annie fell silent, the evening glories twisting their petals closed against the bright light of the coming day. Her skin flushed hot and her body burned at the thought of Julius spilling his creamy white seed into her and making her pregnant, but self-loathing overpowered her base desires.

She blinked away more tears, eyes aching from all the crying she’d done. How could she want that? How could something so vile feel so good? There must’ve been something horribly wrong with her for her to want to gaze into Julius’ eyes as he filled her, his face contorted with ecstasy as it had been when he erupted onto her breasts.

Naomi squeezed her arm. “Come. Bendrake and Ilena have been watching over young Apollos. He will live.”

Brother Bendrake was safe.

“We must eat. There is much to be done.” Naomi pulled on her arm.

Annie resisted, still angry. “I’ll eat alone.”

Naomi sighed, hand falling away. “This is the gods’ will. You should be honored they would make you such an integral part of their plan.”

“Were you honored when Titus forced me into you?” Annie regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth.

The High Priestess’ features twisted with rage. She slapped Annie across the face hard enough to send the younger woman to her knees. Annie shied away, hand covering her aching cheek. More tears blurred her vision.

“Do not speak to me that way.” Naomi smoothed the front of her robes, breathing ragged. “Eat and then prepare yourself to fast. You will be in seclusion.”

Isolation was more punishment than anything else, but Annie was so sick of everyone and everything that she didn’t care. She didn’t want to see another human being for as long as she lived.

“I will not do this. No one can make me,” said Annie.

“You will.” The smile on Naomi’s face was the most bittersweet sight Annie had ever seen. “You’d never be so selfish.”

“Watch me.” Annie turned on her heel and stalked off.

If the world was full of such terrible people, it deserved to be destroyed.

Granda shoveled bread into her mouth, clutching a cup of milk in her other hand. She didn’t look up when Annie came into the kitchen.

Annie stopped, studying the woman’s grubby face. “Are you alright?”

Granda nodded, staring off into the void as she chewed.

It was a relief to see no signs of abuse. Annie left the woman to her breakfast, hurrying across the small room, morning sunlight spilling in through a window on the east wall. She paused at the unlit hearth, ashes still smoking. As the first people in the kitchen, it fell to Annie and Granda to start a fire and prepare the oat mash.

Forget them.

Annie was technically in seclusion. She moved to a long, narrow table lined with baskets of fruit and loaves of bread, various kitchen odds and ends scattered about the surface. A rope of sausages hung from the ceiling. She grabbed a knife and cut one free, taking a bite as she grabbed a chunk of bread and a wedge of soft cheese.

“There’s more milk,” blurted Granda. “You can have the rest.”

Annie turned toward her, picking up the small pitcher with her pinky finger. “Thank you.”

“Naomi told those men to dig three graves. Everyone but you has to gather wood for Helion’s funeral pyre.” Granda set her partially eaten bread on the table and wrapped her arms around herself.

Annie’s heart sank. She would miss the burial of all four of her murdered friends.

Granda began to rock back and forth. “Herschel prayed to Mother Earth, but he wanted to be burned so he could shine with his sons. Two holes and two pyres.”

“You need to tell Naomi. I didn’t know that, and she might not either.”

“He told me about them sometimes,” said Granda. “His sons. His wife. When he helped in the stables. Kind to animals.”

“He was a good man. All of them were,” said Annie, her arms beginning to ache.

Granda pushed herself to her feet, the scrape of the bench over the stone floor making her wince. She clapped her hands over her ears. “Gonna find Naomi.”

“She’s in the Inner Sanctum.” Annie waited for Granda to leave before she moved to a door, pushing it open with her hip and stepping out into a beautiful garden.

A stone slab had been laid in the center. Annie picked her way past cucumber and zucchini plants, taking great care not to knock over any pea trellises. A high stone wall kept animals out and a pomegranate tree grew in the far corner of the garden. Its branches were heavy with round, dark fruit.

Annie knelt next to the stone, laying her breakfast out with a sigh of relief. She took a long drink of milk, the pinky she’d used to carry it outside aching, before tearing into her food. She hadn’t realized how ravenously hungry she’d been until she bit off a piece of the mild cheese.

Fuzzy green caterpillars devoured cabbages to her left and squirrels shrieked as they raced up and down the trunk of the tree. Sunlight warmed her as she ate, the morning’s beauty undiminished despite the chaos and death that had descended upon them.

Anxious thoughts frightened and confused her. Annie did not consult the gods as she sliced slivers from the sausage because she knew they would tell her to shut up and lay with Julius. She shivered despite the heat creeping into the late spring morning. Maybe that was why Julius had to be so handsome. To tempt her. Maybe that was why what he had done to her felt so good.

“May I join you, priestess?”

Annie whipped around at Julius’ deep voice, crushing cabbage leaves with her hand. He stood in the kitchen doorway, his breakfast in hand. His eyes were dark without the firelight and Annie couldn’t help but blush at the thought of his naked body.

She sat up, turning her back toward him. “You can’t. I’m in seclusion.”

“What?”

“I’m going to hide away from everyone else as I fast and pray in preparation for the ritual,” said Annie.

Julius sat down beside her, taking up a sausage. “The High Priestess told me to fast and pray, but she didn’t say anything about seclusion.”

Annie shrugged. “It’s a punishment. Naomi got angry when I told her I wouldn’t go through with the ritual.”

Julius swallowed a mouthful of meat. “She told me about that.”

She took a large bite of bread so she didn’t have to say anything.

“I’m surprised a priestess as godly as yourself isn’t weeping with joy at the opportunity to offer herself to humanity,” said Julius. “I would’ve thought this kind of thing is a dream come true.”

The chewy, flakey bread turned to ash in her mouth. She choked it down, setting the loaf on the stone and brushing crumbs from her hands. The gods would forgive her a few moments of selfishness. They understood what they asked of her, what she would have to give up.

The bitterness in Julius’ voice startled Annie. “But what does a heathen like me know? Your father has picked and chosen which rules to follow and ignore for his entire life. Why would his daughter be any different? Sometimes the gods ask too much of their best and most faithful servants.”

Annie leapt to her feet. “What do you know about anything? I know what it’s like to come into the world unloved and unwanted! I would’ve thought you of all people would be extra careful about fathering bastards!”

Julius sneered, standing. He glared down at her as he gripped her upper arms. “I’m going to let that one go. I deserved it. But need I remind you of what will happen if you do not cooperate? Cassius hates the Temple. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than skewering that cowardly Healer and the plump little priestess with his pole-ax. He was cut as a boy to keep his voice high and sweet. The Healer who did it botched the job and damaged him. When he got old enough, he hacked the priest who’d ordered it done with a butcher knife and then ran off. He came to me years later, the blood of many other priests and priestesses on his hands, offering me his skill and devotion in exchange for the opportunity to bring the Temples down on the heads of the abusive and the corrupt.”

Annie ripped away from him, smoothing the sleeves of her robes. “Where does the violence and destruction end? Your friend was tortured when he was a defenseless child by those sworn to protect him, so he grows up and punishes the wrong people. The cycle of war and strife continues and nothing ever changes.”

“This is the chance, Annika. Submit to your gods’ will and make a child with me,” said Julius.

She took a step back, trapped beneath his intense gaze. Beautiful men got away with everything; whether it was charming their way out of well-deserved punishments when they were rotten little boys or shamelessly breaking the hearts of their lovers when they were grown.

Annie shook her head, sick with the injustice of it all. “You don’t even believe in the gods. Or prophecy.”

“No, but you do. So do our fathers. More importantly, so does the multitude.” He paused, studying her through narrowed eyes. “I told you already that I agreed to play along with this nonsense out of pure spite, but I’ve realized that an incredible opportunity has fallen into my lap. I can think of no better way to seize my father’s throne than showing up in Civitas Riparia with the embodiment of Jocasta herself; poised in her tragic beauty with a long-foretold ‘Prince of Peace’ in her lap. The commons would go mad for you. I’d be a fool not to keep my son close.”

The truth in his words made her tremble. Why did the gods look on, indifferent, as the wicked used them to manipulate the godly for their selfish gains?

She sighed, hands on her hips as she turned away. A pomegranate fell from the tree by the wall, the fruit breaking open with a burst of sweet-smelling juice.

“That is a heavy burden to put on a child. His life will not be his. He will grow up in the shadow of what everyone else wants him to be.” Annie’s voice was soft.

Julius gently put his hand on her waist, nodding at the tree. “Walk with me.”

He did not take his hand from her until they stepped beneath the canopy of leaves, the ground still wet with dew. “That is how it is for all of us. We come into the world, helpless and screaming, too weak to pick up our own heads or even sit up. If we’re lucky - you and I were not - our parents look at us with stars in their eyes, dreaming of who we will be. As we grow, we ache for their love and their approval, so we take up their dreams for ourselves and shoulder their burdens and failures. Look at your life, Annika.”