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From: zilber@poboxes.com
Subject: Warrior, Healer, Goddess (FF, rom, quasi-hist.)
The following story contains scenes depicting lesbian love and
sexuality. If you are under 18 or find such matters offensive, do not
read it.
Before you beseige me with complaints about inconsistent use of "thou,"
please understand that I'm using the archaic "thou/ye" distinction like
the French "tu/vous": "thou" is singular informal, while "ye" or "you"
is plural or formal. A shift from "ye" to "thou" represents a shift to
a more intimate speech style.
***********************************************************************
The Warrior, the Healer, and the Goddess
(Northwestern Mesopotamia, circa 4000 B.C.)
I. Rescue
Descending from the hills to the plain, the oxcart hauling Kura and the
three other slave girls lumbered and jerked along. Three horsemen,
carrying spears, rode beside it. The sun was very hot, and the girls
were naked, save for their loincloths. The thongs binding Kura's hands
to the cart cut into her swollen wrists. What did the pain matter? She
would be dead tomorrow. Her thirst, though, was becoming increasingly
unbearable. She didn't dare ask the horsemen for water. They had
killed another slave girl earlier that morning, when they saw her trying
to chew through her bonds.
Kura thought she saw a glint, like sunlight on bronze, from behind the
boulder to their right. She heard a whizzing sound. One of the
horsemen made a strange yell; it took her a second to realize that the
thing sticking out of his neck was an arrow. Blood was gushing out of
his nose and mouth as he slumped off his horse. A moment later the air
was filled with more whizzing sounds and the rearing of horses and
bloodcurdling cries and the shrieks of the other slave girls. Kura
shut her eyes and huddled against the floor of the cart.
She opened them again as she felt her bonds give way. A strange
warrior, clad in leather breastplate and bronze helmet, was standing
over her, knife in hand. She screamed and tried to scramble away.
"Calm thee, I'll not harm thee." Kura blinked. It was a woman's
voice. "I only was cutting thy bonds. Thou art lucky to be alive.
The horsemen slew the other girls afore I could get to ye. I'm sorry."
Kura looked about her, and then wished she hadn't. The other slave
girls were indeed dead, their throats cut. It was a point of honor with
the horsemen to die rather than let a slave escape. Kura's only
consolation was that the horsemen were dead too. And by the hand of a
woman. Kura had heard legends of such women. The horsemen called
them the ama-zuna, mothers of death.
"The peace of the Goddess be upon these her daughters, and grant them
rest within Her bosom," the woman murmured sadly. "We cannot bury
them, I fear. Another party of horseman may come this way and we must
be off." The woman unbuckled her breastplate and her helmet, tying them
to the saddle of one of the horses. "I'm sorry I have no extra tunic to
give thee. The sun will burn thy skin."
"I am accustomed to it." Kura studied the amazuna. She was about the
same size as Kura, slender like her, but more powerfully built, and much
older than the girl's fifteen or so years; perhaps the warrior was about
forty-five. The woman had sharp blue eyes and coppery-grey hair,
close-cropped like Kura's own brown hair. Kura was not sure how to
address a woman warrior. "What will ye do with me, my Lord?"
The woman's leathery face broke into a laugh. "'Lord?' Dost take this
old woman for a horseman?" More gently, she added, "I'll do nothing
with thee, daughter; thou art free, to do as thou wilt. But I'll be
taking these horses and weapons back to the temple city. From whence
art thou? Where are thy kin?"
"Dead. All dead. My village was on the other side of the great river,
but the horsemen burnt it when I was a child. The slew all my kin. I .
. . have nobody." Kura began sobbing. "I am as one already dead. I
have been dead for years."
"Calm thee, Goddess be with thee, daughter." The woman was hugging
her. "Thou art free of the horseman now. And no harm shall come to
thee while old Larka is with thee. Wilt thou come with me to the temple
city, then?"
Kura nodded.
"Dost thirst? Drink of this water skin. We will not come to a spring
until this evening."
"I've never ridden a horse afore, mother. I fear I will be thrown
off."
"Well, we will not be traveling at a fast gait: just hold to the mane.
But if thou art afraid, thou mayst sit behind me on my mount and hold to
me." Kura climbed up and gripped the older woman tightly about the
waist, and they were off. Kura felt safe holding onto Larka. She
needed to feel safe.
II. Larka
"I am a scout for the temple city. We like to know when the horsemen
come down from the hills. I was tracking thy party since this morning.
My charge is only to watch and follow, but when they slew that poor girl
this morning, my anger got the better of me. It was foolish of me: if I
had not attacked, the other girls might yet be living."
"Do not reproach yourself, mother. We were all to have been slain
tomorrow, as a funerary offering for a chieftain on the other side of
the river."
Larka spat angrily.
They rode on. Kura, guardedly, told Larka of her years of slavery in
the horsemen's villages, cooking their meals, cleaning their huts, being
beaten daily, surviving on the meager rations of a slave, stealing food
when she could. Unlike most of the girls, Kura had not been raped by
them. They had set her aside as a "virgin," destined to be the mother
of a chief's heirs, or, as it turned out, a funerary sacrifice.
Larka told Kura of the temple city, ruled by the Goddess Herself.
"Are there no men, then, in your city?"
"Aye, there are; we cannot do without fathers to our children, now.
But our men are not as the horsemen are. Nor even, I venture, as thine
own male kin were. Our men serve the Goddess too."
"What is She like, your Goddess? The horsemen say She is a demoness."
"She is good," said Larka solemnly, "and beautiful, and kind. Thou
shalt see Her thyself, when we reach the temple. She dwells in the body
of the High Priestess; and it is thus that thou shalt come to know Her
and love Her. But She dwells in the earth too, and in the moon. She is
already part of thee, and has been since thou wast born."
"I do not understand. My kin worshipped the Three Mighty Brothers, as
the horsemen do."
Larka spat again. "Speak not of those three, I pray." With a wink,
she added. "They turn my stomach." Kura laughed, for the first time in
ages. She had never met anyone like Larka before. Kura was in awe of
her; yet she was not afraid of her. She remembered that she once had
friends . . . before the horsemen had come. Could Larka be her friend?
Would Larka care for her? She snuggled more tightly against Larka's
back. It felt good to hold to her.
The sun was low on the horizon when they arrived at the spring. Larka
leapt from her horse, peeling off her tunic and loincloth and plunging
into the cool water.
"Come, daughter. Refresh thee in the water awhile afore we cook
supper."
Kura needed no further invitation. Tearing off her own loincloth, she
jumped in beside her, slaking her thirst in the sweet water.
"Mother, let me wash thy back, I pray." Kura had been admiring
Larka's compact, sinewy body since they had begun traveling, and now she
could gaze at it and touch it freely. Larka's face had softened
considerably since the grim events of that morning: it was a strikingly
handsome face, especially when she smiled. Kura wanted to make Larka
smile more. She splashed water on the older woman's body, rinsing away
the dust and sweat, running her fingers over the taut muscles of Larka's
neck, shoulders, back, and buttocks. There were many scars on her arms,
and one fresh wound on her thigh.
"Mother, thou art hurt!"
"Just a scratch, from the spearpoint of one of thy horsemen. It will
heal quickly, and of its own accord. Now, if thou wouldst see a wound,
here was a wound." Larka pointed to a long thick scar just beneath her
left breast. "I got this one fighting the horsemen on the other side of
the great river. Slashed by a bronze knife as long as thy forearm."
"Will it hurt if I touch it, mother?"
"Nay, touch. Ahh, thy fingers are gentle, sweet one."
"I feel the beating of thy heart, mother."
"Daughter, sweet, dost thou . . . dost mean to touch me . . . in the
ways of love?"
"May I not? Thou saidst I am free to do as I want. This is what I
want."
She was cupping Larka's small breasts in her hands, gently kneading
them, stroking the erect nipples with her fingers.
"Ahh, sweet one! When I came upon thee this morning, thou wast like a
frightened rabbit; but thou hast become bold, sweet. Did I not tell
thee the Goddess is part of thee already? How didst thou learn of the
sacred love between women, growing up among the horsemen?"
"At night, I would touch myself thus, and dream of someone to care for
me. It pleases me greatly to touch thee thus. Does it please thee,
dear one?"
"Aye, it pleases me mightily, sweet."
"Even now, I fear that thou art a dream that I shall awaken from, to
my great sorrow."
"Sweet, there is no one more real than old Larka. Ah, love, thy young
breasts are so lovely. Such soft, pleasing hillocks. Thy whole form
enflames me . . ."
Kura had never known kissing before; but, oh, the brushing and sucking
of Larka's lips and tongue against hers was intoxicating, so soft, but
so burning hot. She kissed back hungrily.
"Love," murmured Larka, "open thy thighs to me, let me give thee
pleasure, and I will joyfully receive the same from thee; so we will
bond together. Ah, sweet, thy young cunt is like a flower, opening to
my fingers. Thou art so beautiful, my love. This morning, thy brown
eyes were so sad, so lifeless, it tore at my heart to look upon thee,
dear one. But now thou hast fire in thine eyes."
"Tis thou who hast kindled it in me."
As they kissed again, Kura's pelvis was thrusting and shuddering
against Larka's hand. Kura gasped with wonder as Larka's thumb began
thrumming her clitoris; the orgasm welled up in her as Larka held her
tightly. Kura's mind was a rosy haze of pleasure, barely aware of Larka
carrying her out of the water and laying her upon the soft grass. She
felt kisses upon her belly and loins. Something warm and wet and
immensely pleasurable was moving around and then in her cunt. Oh,
Larka's tongue was flickering over her clitoris, lips were sucking on
it. She gripped Larka's head tightly, thrusting herself against the
older woman's face. "Mother," she screamed, "stay with me!" Then
another orgasmic wave crashed through her, more powerful then the first.
She woke to find Larka dozing beside her on the grass.
"Dear mother," she whispered, kissing Larka's face, stroking her flank.
The older woman awoke with a smile. Kura's fingers crept into the
coppery tangle of Larka's pubic hair, then slipped down between her
legs, stroking Larka's nether lips.
"Is this pleasing to thee, dear mother?"
"Aye, sweet love. Aaaah. Oh, feel how wet I am." Kura indeed felt
her fingers being coated with wetness. The heady scent of Larka's
nectar filled her nostrils. "Suck my nipple, whilst thou touchest me. .
. ah, ah, the Goddess is filling me with Her sweetness!" Kura was
kissing her way down the amazuna's scarred belly. The smell of Larka's
cunt was doing something to her, filling her with a thirst she had never
known before. She plunged her face between Larka's spread thighs,
burying her tongue in the abundant wetness, drinking deeply as Larka
came. At last, Larka closed up her thighs and pulled Kura up beside her
again.
"Sweet companion," Larka said at last, "there is a sacred bond between
us now -- a bond of love, strong as the Goddess Herself. Even death
cannot part us."
"I am well content."
III. The Raiders
After a supper of mutton jerky and millet porridge with berries, the
warrior and the freed girl soon fell asleep in each other's arms,
exhausted from the events of the day. Kura awoke in the middle of the
night, screaming from nightmares, and Larka held her and kissed her till
she calmed down. They made love again. Larka gave the girl her
talisman, to ward off the nightmares. Just before sunrise, they ate
some cold porridge and berries, packed up the horses again, and were on
their way.
"We shall be in the temple by this afternoon, sweet one. I'll rejoice
to have thee meet my sisters. And I daresay they will be glad of these
horses as well."
They rode on for several more hours. Kura discovered that, sitting
behind Larka, she could easily slip her hand underneath the older
woman's tunic, to touch bare skin. How she loved the feel of the
rippling muscles of Larka's thighs and buttocks, the soft tangle of her
pubic hair. Larka laughed that they'd lose their way if Kura kept
distracting her, but Larka's body was sending clear signals that it
didn't mind Kura's caresses at all.
When the sun was high in the sky, Larka pointed to two distant
hills. "Thou may'st see the city between those hills."
"Can the city be so big, that we can see it from here, mother?"
"Aye, tis bigger than thy horsemen's villages, I venture. With a wall
of stone about it, taller than a tree, to keep us safe if we are
attacked." Larka went on to explain how the wall had been built in the
time of their great-grandmothers. How a magic substance bound the
stones in place.
They rode on, nearing the city. Larka tensed suddenly. "Sacred shit!
There's a raiding party down there. Dost see them, by that thicket of
trees? How dare those horse-fuckers come so close to our city!"
"And look, there are more joining them, in the distance, coming from
the city."
"Ah, no! Those are our priestesses, more's the pity. This month is
the festival of the serpents, when the healing priestesses go out to
dance by the caves. And they have no warriors with them."
"The horsemen lie in wait for them."
"Aye. Tis good we have seen them first. The horse-fuckers are but a
handful, unless more are in hiding. I must do battle with them."
"But, thou art alone . . . thou mayst be slain. . . "
"Aye, love. I may. But I cannot let them harm the priestesses. Thou
must wait here. Wait till night. If I do not come back, make thy way
to the city as quietly as thou canst. My sisters will receive thee."
"But, love, thou madest promise we'd be together, always."
"So we shall be, sweet, even if I die." As Kura, sobbing, dismounted
from the horse, Larka donned her helmet and breastplate. "Daughter, it
is not easy for me to go from thee. If I go with thy blessing, I shall
fight more bravely."
"Thou hast my blessing, mother. Go. And come back to me."
Larka turned her horse and galloped off.
Kura paced anxiously, praying and weeping to the Goddess that she as
yet barely knew. Her fingers caught on the talisman that hung round
her neck. Larka did not have her talisman! She must return it to her;
she could not let Larka fight without it. Mounting one of the other
horses, she grabbed the mane tightly and kicked its sides, as she had
seen Larka do. The horse shot off, and Kura hung onto it, speeding
toward the thicket, hoping to overtake Larka.
Alas, Larka had already joined battle with the raiders. There were
five of them. Larka's arrows quickly felled two. Then the other three
were upon her with their spears. Larka's bronze knife slashed one of
their throats. But one of the others thrust his spear into her belly,
piercing the breastplate, and she fell.
"NO!" screamed Kura. A volcano of rage erupted in her as she galloped
toward the surprised horsemen and flung herself upon one of them.
Wrenching the spear from his hands, she buried it in his chest. A sharp
pain tore through her back. Whirling around, she caught the other
horseman by his neck and squeezed with all the fury that was in her.
She felt a sharp crack, and the man's body went limp. She dropped him
and ran to Larka.
"Mother! I . . . I brought thy talisman. Mother, love, don't leave
me!"
But Larka's body was already lifeless.
IV. The Priestesses
Now is not the time for mourning, said a calm voice within her.
Place the body on thy horse and ride to the priestesses. Kura, stunned,
numbly loaded her companion's body onto the horse. She did not weep.
In a short while she came to the cave mouth where nine naked priestesses
were dancing to the music of drums and flutes.
"Mothers," Kura called out hoarsely, as she dismounted.
The music ceased. One priestess stepped forward, a short, plump woman
with long, wavy black hair, perhaps thirty years old. "Who are ye,
bloody maiden, and what has befallen ye and that corpse?"
"I am called Kura. I was a slave of the horsemen, but this mighty
amazuna slew them and rescued me. We were returning to the temple city,
when she spied a party of raiders lying in wait for you. She -- we
attacked and slew them, but she was . . .slain. She was called Larka."
At this, a wail went up from the priestesses and musicians. "It is
indeed the mighty Larka," cried one, "I know her by her copper hair."
"How did the raiders come so close, but we had no omen of their
presence?" asked another. "She was our greatest warrior," sobbed
another.
The first priestess spoke again to Kura, "We owe our lives to thou and
Larka. Welcome, brave sister. I am called Aina." The priestess
paused, studying Kura's face. "Larka's ghost hovers over thee,
daughter. She loved thee much, did she not?"
The numb strength that had held Kura together until now suddenly
slipped away, and she collapsed into the priestess's arms, sobbing and
trembling uncontrollably. "I wish to be among those offered in the
funeral sacrifices for Larka!"
The priestess spat. "Thou dost not know our ways yet, daughter. It
would not honor Larka to slay one she loved, nor any other living
creature. But, daughter, thou art badly wounded! Didst not feel this
gash in thine arm and back? Let me bind it up. Sisters, it is not
propitious to resume our dance today. This brave one needs healing, for
her body and heart. And we must mourn for the mighty Larka. Let us
return to the temple."
Kura did not have the strength to ride or walk, and the priestesses
carried her back toward the city on an improvised stretcher. She was
only vaguely aware of entering the gates of the city, the bustle in the
streets, concerned faces peering down at her. And everywhere, a
wailing: "The mighty Larka is slain!" She was taken from the streets
into a dark room, and laid down on soft mats. She slept.
V. The Goddess
In the shrine room of the temple, a very fat woman, naked save for
necklaces, armrings, and anklets, reclined upon a pile of furs. Her
black hair was plaited in many tight braids. Aina, wearing a linen
shift, entered the shrine and bowed.
"My beloved Lady, let me kiss Your lips."
"Sweet Aina, gentle healer, I delight in thee." They kissed warmly.
"Now, tell Me of the girl ye brought into the temple last month, the
companion of Larka."
"My Lady, she is little better. Her fever has left her, and her spear
wounds have mostly healed, but she is very sick of heart. She eats
little. She speaks not at all. She sits upon her bed and rocks
herself. I fear she was treated very cruelly by the horsemen. I fear
her spirit is broken. I feel Larka's ghost about the girl, very
strongly. But the girl wishes to die."
"Aye," spoke the High Priestess, "the spirit of Larka is much
distraught. She would comfort the girl, but the girl is too saddened to
hear her voice." She paused. The air around Her began to pulse with
faint blue flames. "The girl is destined to be a great healer. Her
destiny is with us in the temple city." The flames subsided. "Aina?
Thou art much saddened to see the girl thus, art thou not?"
"Aye, my Lady. I . . . I care for her."
"Thou hast done well for her body, dear Aina; but the wounds of her
heart are too deep for thee. Bring her to me, and I will heal her of
her deepest sorrows. As for the smaller sorrows . . . I believe that
thy love, Aina, wilt give this girl much joy in the years ahead."
"Aye, my Lady," Aina beamed, "thank You, my Lady."
A few minutes later, Aina returned, with four of the healing
priestesses, bearing Kura on a stretcher. Setting her down, each of the
priestesses bowed and kissed the High Priestess. Kura's body was lean
and haggard, her eyes dull. As the High Priestess gave direction, the
healing priestesses removed Kura's tunic and loincloth, and bathed and
anointed her body.
"Place these lamps round us. Ye may leave us now, my sweet healers."
Alone now, the High Priestess sat down next to Kura, resting the girl's
head in Her mighty lap. She massaged the girl's temples. The air began
to pulse with blue flames again.
"Kura. Kura. Kura. Dost thou know Me?"
Kura's eyes suddenly cleared. "Mama! It has been so long since. . .
But . . . they slew thee, mama. How art thou alive again?"
"Who am I now?"
Kura blinked. "Sunru, little brother?"
"Who am I now?"
Kura blinked again. "Larka, sweet love . . . how I have missed thee!"
"Who am I now?"
"Why, thou art Kura. Thou art myself. How . . .?"
"Who am I now?"
"My Lady . . . Ye are She of Whom Larka spoke . . . Ye are the Great
Goddess."
"Aye, daughter, I am. And I am all who have ever loved thee, and all
whom thou hast ever loved. Through them all I have loved thee. Sweet
Kura, brave Kura, despair not." She kissed her. "Thou hast suffered
much sorrow, but I have much comfort to give thee. Sweet Kura, I love
thee."
"My Lady, I love You."
The High Priestess smiled. "Show me thy love. I long for it." The
High Priestess reclined on the bed of furs, pulling Kura down on top of
her. Kura kissed her, first feverishly, then deeply, lingeringly, as
the High Priestess ran her hands over Kura's lean young body. New life
seemed to course through her. Kura had never felt more radiant. She
had never felt so consumed with lust. The body of the High Priestess
was so soft, so lush, beneath her. Kura cupped the High Priestess's
heavy breast in her hands, sucking the thick nipple into her mouth. She
was rewarded with moans of pleasure. Kura's slender legs were
intertwined with the High Priestess's massive thighs. The High
Priestess's hands gripped her buttocks hard. Oh, Kura could feel the
sweet heat of Her cunt, the wetness of it against her loins. Kura
humped and bucked against Her. The High Priestess cried with pleasure.
Kura felt her own pleasure rising within her, buoying her up in dazzling
sweetness, dizzying joy, then gently setting her down on the soft,
heaving body of the High Priestess.
"Daughter. Dost thou know me now?"
"I thought . . . I thought you were the Great Goddess. And so you are.
. . And so I am also."
"And so is Larka. Dear daughter, her love is not lost to thee. No
love is ever lost. Dost hear her, within thee? I well help thee to
hear."
The High Priestess touched her forehead, and Kura was suddenly able to
focus within herself, upon the calm, joyous voice of Larka. Daughter,
sweet, the beloved voice said, did I not tell thee death could not part
us? I watch over thee, beloved, always.
Tears of joy streamed down Kura's cheeks.
Larka continued, Thou knowest at last the love of the Goddess, sweet
one. Thou belongest in Her service, as a healer. I had hoped thou
wouldst become a warrior, like me; thou art brave enough. But our city
needs healing, nor slaying. Thou, who hast suffered so much, will find
joy in relieving the suffering of others.
The High Priestess added, "Aina will teach thee the healing arts.
Learn from her, daughter."
"Aye, my Lady."
"Daughter, art thou hungry? Sup with Me." She called to the
antechamber, "Wertu?" A young man appeared. "Bring us to eat, beloved.
Kura, daughter, recline thou upon my bosom, hold My hand, and tell me of
thy childhood."
VI. Aina
The next morning, Kura left the shrine room, physically exhausted by a
night of nearly uninterrupted love-making, but feeling inwardly radiant.
She made her way through the still unfamiliar streets of the temple
compound, toward the college of healers, where Aina dwelt.
"Aina?"
Aina, brewing a decoction of herbs, looked up and beamed. "Kura,
daughter. Thou . . . thou art . . ."
"Alive again," smiled Kura.
"Aye, that. But what I meant was, there is a beauty in thy face I did
not see before."
Kura blushed. "Mother, I wish to learn the healing arts from thee.
But afore we start my lessons, I want to thank thee for thy care of me."
Kura hugged her. Neither woman let go. Aina's mouth found Kura's and
they kissed deeply.
"Bless the Goddess! Beloved one, I am so glad to see thee well!" Aina
was crying.
Kura was flustered. Even after the sublime pleasure of making love to
the Goddess Herself, the sweet intensity of Aina's kiss left her
breathless. Within herself, she heard the voice of Larka: Now here is a
priestess who knows how to kiss! Do not let this one escape thee,
sweet.
Kura kissed Aina again. Aina drew Kura down with her upon the pile of
furs that was her bed. Aina did not get around to finishing her
decoction until late that afternoon.
VII. Larka
Many years later, Kura made her way from her patient's deathbed back
through the streets toward the healing college. She was tired and
heartsick, having stayed up most of the night trying to save a woman who
had eaten a bad mushroom. Her emetics were too late: the poison had
already spread through the woman's body. But it was not only this
woman's death that troubled her: she would go back to a cold, empty
room. Her beloved Aina had died the previous year, of a sudden stroke.
Kura's healing arts had again been useless. The voice of Aina spoke
within her: Daughter, it was my time to return to the Goddess; I was
ready to go. Do not reproach thyself. Thou hast saved many lives.
Strange how Kura had not felt the voice of Larka within herself for a
long time.
A man, running up behind Kura, called out to her: "Mother, healer,
wait! What shall be done with the woman's daughter?"
"Whose daughter?"
"Why, Filra, the woman who has just died. I am her neighbor. The girl
waits in my house now. The maiden is much distraught. She has no kin
left, she says. Alas, we cannot care for her: we have five children of
our own, and my companion is lame . . . "
Kura sighed. "Lead me to her, I pray. I will try to find her a home."
In a corner of the room, a girl, perhaps fifteen, was sobbing, her face
buried in her cloak. Kura touched the girl's shoulder; she flinched.
"Calm thee, I'll not harm thee. I am called Kura." The girl looked
up, startled. Kura was startled too, at the familiar lines of the face,
the sharp blue eyes, the copper hair.
"Daughter," Kura stammered, "how art thou called?"
"I am called Larka," she sniffed. "I know you, mother, do I not? I
cannot tell from where."
"Beloved Larka, I have waited many years . . . " Tears streamed down
Kura's cheeks. "Come to me, dearest one. Thou shalt dwell with me, and
I shall tell thee of another Larka, a great amazuna who lived in the
time of thy grandmother. I loved her well."
The girl's eyes lit up. "I have heard of her. She was the sister of
my grandmother's companion. I was named in her memory." The girl
paused, apparently reflecting; then she smiled. "I . . . I hear my
mother's spirit. She is contented that ye have found me."
The girl rose and slipped her arm into Kura's. Together, they walked
back towards the temple compound.
END
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