Goddess of Yesterday Read Free

run over hot sand and sharp rocks without flinching. “You will wear slippers or shoes at all times, Anaxandra. A young lady has soft feet.”
    She toweled my hair so hard I bounced, and as she combed out the snarls I looked up to see a pale thin girl sittingon a high stool, staring down at me. “Hello, Anaxandra,” she said softly. “I am Callisto. I think you are fortunate to have such tough feet. You can use your feet and I cannot use mine.”
    “What happened to your feet?”
    She drew up her gown. Her legs were sticks and her feet were not flat on the bottom. I did not see how she could put weight on them. Then I realized that she couldn't.
    “I almost never go out. Father says you will have a score of stories to tell me about your island,” she said eagerly.
    “Maybe a thousand,” I said, using my new word.
    But the queen shook her head. “The feast is beginning. Come. There is much to rejoice in. The king is safely home, he has brought riches, the gods will be pleased, and no man was lost.”
    I was not safely home. I was not rich. I was afraid of their gods and my family was lost.
    Down the stairs, out of the palace and into the town we went, Callisto carried in a chair. I saw that I did have something to rejoice in. I was not frozen like Callisto and the boy of stone.
    Through the Curved Gate was brought a creature so massive I could not believe it submitted to men. Its four great legs moved slowly and its wide dark eyes looked ahead without anger. Very large horns curved from the sides of its great white head. I was awestruck. “What is that?” I whispered to Callisto.
    “It's an ox. Have you never seen one pulling the plow?”
    I had hardly even seen a plow. Our fields are narrow strips of dirt terraced on sharp hills.
    Behind the wondrous ox came six horses. I had never seen a real horse, only pictures on vases. Father capturedhorses now and then, when he took a foreign city, but carrying horses on a ship was difficult and feeding them on a ship was worse. He never brought one home, for we had no place for a horse to run and no grain to spare. Besides, horses had weak backs, Father said, even though they looked strong. Donkeys were better.
    Two of the horses pulled a real chariot, and beside the driver stood the king, splendid in purple.
    Callisto sang the invocation, her voice high and warm like a wooden flute.
“Listen, daughters of thundering Zeus. Listen, sons of great gods. Dance in honor of golden-haired Apollo.”
    The ox was brought to stand over the marble altar and how clearly now I saw the difference between a mere chieftain and a real king. My father made things holy with a little lamb, but a king made things holy with a beast so great and calm.
    The priest lifted his double-sided ax while the people lifted their voices. Grasping the ox's horns, the men pulled its head back and with one great plunge the priest slit its throat from side to side. There was so much blood it overran the hollow and spilled out into the basin below, and when that had filled, a second basin was brought.
    No wonder their fields were so green. No wonder their sheep were counted with that number thousand. When they diluted this holy blood with water and walked the fields, scattering it drop by drop, how blessed would be the soil.
    One by one, we dipped our fingers in the holy blood. I raised my hands high to the goddess of my island, that she might not be omitted from this event.
“O goddess of yesterday,”
I sang.
    The crowd fell silent to hear me. I was frightened, but having addressed the goddess, I had to go on. I pitched myvoice to carry across the sea.
“Hear my cry. Stay with me. Be also my goddess of tomorrow.”
    A pair of swallows swooped above me. Nothing is more holy than the flight of birds, for they cross the divide, equally at home in heaven and earth. It was a good omen.
    “You are strong in the magic, Anaxandra,” whispered the queen. She marked my forehead with her bloody thumb. “There,”