Cursed By The Gods Book 1 and 2

Chapter 35

“You have hardly eaten anything all day, my lady. Are you worried for Queen Delia or are you troubled with the knowledge that a child grows inside of you?” Ilena asked. She was making Emilia’s bed, tucking the sheets in by the side of the wooden frame. She had woken up early in the morning to prepare some herbal mixture which she hoped will help her mistress and the growing child in her only to find Emilia restlessly pacing the length and breadth of the room. As she went about her duties she had noticed the untouched breakfast tray that lay on the dressing table which was testament to how long Emilia had awoken. Even now as she sat on the chair in front of the dressing table she couldn’t seem to focus.

“My lady?”

Emilia jumped slightly. Ilena was standing beside her, hands on the skirts of her tunic with a frown on her brow.

“For a woman who just learned she would be having a child you are acting strange. This is all you ever worried about, your troubles your mind?”

Emilia forced a smile on her lips and shrugged. “Nothing, Ilena.” She picked at a piece of bread on her tray. “You must understand that I am still trying to grasp the reality of having my own child.”

Ilena smiled affectionately and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I understand, my lady. I never had a child of my own because the gods would not bless me with any but if I were to find out I had a child growing inside of me right now, my lady, I will lay n***d on the ground in disbelief.”

Emilia laughed. She laid a hand on her belly hoping to feel her child move even though it was too early. All night long the words of the omede had kept her awake, she didn’t want to believe her child would ever be a curse to her. She had waited too long to have a child for an old wise woman to tell her the child was going to curse her sorrow. But even as she thought about it the other words of the woman rang in her head: Octavius warmed the bed of the goddess of war every night. She couldn’t believe that was true, there was no way she could believe that woman when Octavius crawled into her bed every night.

“You will be fine, my lady. And if my lady wishes to keep me in service I will take care of the child for you.”

“Of course I wish to have you in service, Ilena. You will remain in service to me until you chose to retire.”

“If I retire.’’ She pushed the breakfast tray closer to Emilia and poured out some tea. “Now eat my lady, keep the baby strong. My king will be the happiest man alive to learn he is about to become a father".

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The afternoon was bright, the sun was high as if the gods themselves favored the celebration of the people, it was the perfect weather for the festival. Octavius, the royal household and the nobles made their way to the square where the people stood in circles behind the poles that were erected beside the huge stack of dried woods and leaves the people had mounted the day before. Everyone brought with them baskets of dried fruits to offer to Willa, each baskets were wrapped with white, the color of the goddess of Purity and Fertility.

The people parted as their king and his court made their way to the center of the square. They bowed as Octavius passed. Children clamored to get a glance of him, pushing each other out of the way to see their hero, a few of them, giggling, discreetly reached out to touch his golden robe much to their mother’s horror and surprise. Angus walked a few steps his brother on one side, the other side where Emilia was to stay was empty and the nobles who walked behind Octavius showed their respect by leaving the empty space as it was, walking behind their king with proud noses in the air.

The priests in charge of the ceremony arrived and pushed their way through the crowd to the center of the square, standing beside the stacked woods. As they raised their hands everyone fell on their knees with their heads bowed. The village was silent, everyone was gathered; invalids and whole, hearty people all gathered at the behest of their goddess to seek blessings for the next harvest season after the rains.

The eldest priest dropped his hand and motioned to Birian, a young priest. Birian hurried to perform his duty. He pulled a small knife from the small bag he carried, washed it in a small bowl held by another young priest and presented it to the older priest. The old priest raised his face to the skies, chanted a few words while rocking back and forth on his heels. A light wind blew against his cloak and against everyone present.

The old priest approached the stack of woods, laid the knife against his wrist where small, numerous identical cuts marred his flesh. In one swift movement he opened his flesh and raised his bleeding wrists over the woods, his blood dripped against the dark wood. He went round the stack making more cuts on his hand, dropping his blood on the dried woods until he had made a complete circle and his blood coated most of the sticks. He stood on a spot and chanted loudly, calling on Willa.

Suddenly, a strong wind blew. The people hid their faces in the dust and hailed the presence of the goddess. Willa appeared above the arrangement of wood and came down slowly. On her head she had a gold wreath of leaves and flowers placed in her dark curls, she held a sprig of fresh olive branch on one hand and on another she held a bunch of grapes.

“Rise people of Camelorn, receive the blessings of your goddess.” Her voice was smooth and soothing and as she spoke fresh dew fell on the people. They rose on their feet and kept chanting words of appreciation to her, hailing her.

“Your lands will be rich and fertile this year,” Willa proclaimed.

“Ay!” the people responded.

“Your fields will bring you the best corn you have ever had.”

“Ay”

“You will press your olives and the purest oil will pour from them.”

“Ay”

“For your fishermen, the fishes will swim into your nets.”

“Ay!”

“Your hunters will come bearing the sweetest meat.”

“Ay”

“Your women will bring forth children, blessed children who will make you happy”

“Ay”

“Your young girls will be fruitful, they will bring forth children that will make you the envy of other nations”

“Ay”

“And so it shall be!”

“Ay, our goddess.”

As soon as they chanted those last words the dried sticks burst in bright orange flames. The people cheered, hugged one another, laughed and threw their baskets of fruits into the roaring flames. The people sang and danced around the goddess who once again lifted herself up far above the people.