Daughters of the Goddess--Part 10
Part X

By the following season of planting, both Prica and Iora were full priestesses of the Goddess. The additional priestesses greatly aided matters at the shrine and the older priestesses were relieved to have some of the burden lifted from their shoulders.

Things were changing in the village as well. Farmers returned their fields but did not expand their boundaries in response to the recent floods. Fewer superfluous crops, such as the spice plant, were planted. Most of the farmers were focused on rebuilding their stores of barley after the long harsh winter rather than trade with surrounding villages.

Offerings to the Goddess were made freely and with little prompting. Even dealings with the elders became civil. With all these changes, Rian allowed herself to hope that these changes were the changes the Goddess told Brigid about shortly after Nori’s death.

However, the idyllic time was short. A blight swept through the village and the neighboring lands, decimating the barley crop. Lightning from a storm struck Urit’s house. The resulting fire burned it to the ground and killed his youngest two sons. As harvest came, a fever swept through the village, sickening many and killing an elder, a young mother, and three young children.

Another harsh winter further demoralized the village. The heavy snows threatened to bury them all under a heavy blanket of white. Many brought their livestock in a bid to save the animals and to provide additional warmth. Few had much of anything left in their larders by the time the snows finally melted.

Tired and bitter villagers made perfunctory offerings as they began planting. The boundaries of the fields went even further as many feared famine if there was another harsh winter. Game was hunted to near extinction in the forests and fewer and fewer fish were caught in the river.

The priestesses urged the villagers to stay with the old ways. They warned the current practices would only worsen matters by deleting the land, the forest and the river. Their words fell on deaf ears.

The following harvest was sufficient and the winter milder. But as the season of renewal came, very little game could be found in the forests and the fish appeared to be gone from the river. Many quickly grew tired of living on grain.

Again the priestesses urged the villagers to remain patient. The land needed to heal. If hunting and fishing were lessened, the animals would return. Their words were met with grumblings both against the priestesses and their Goddess.

While the harvest provided enough food for the villagers, there was not enough for trade. Husbands grumbled by the lack of new tools while wives mourned the loss of new cooking pots. Many missed the finer fabrics of the south as they made due with homespun wool.

The grumblings were growing louder in the village. Why continue to respect a deity who had turned its back on them? Hadn’t they made the appropriate sacrifices with no results, no return of favor?

The priestesses worked to stop such heresy. They warned against being fickle. They urged the villagers to be genuine in their sacrifices if they wished for the favor of the Goddess to return.

Rian offered extra sacrifices and prayers on behalf of the village. She begged the Goddess to be merciful, to forgive the villagers their grumblings. Yet she wondered if her efforts would do anything in the face of the Goddess’s obvious displeasure.

One evening, after her additional prayers, she entered the main chamber of the shrine and found Brigid waiting for her. “Good evening, sister.”

“And to you.” The high priestess gestured for Rian to sit. “I wish to discuss something with you.”

“Of course,” Rian replied. “Is it about Prica or Iora?”

“No, it’s about Aneri.”

Rian’s heart stopped for a moment. “Aneri? What about her?”

“I think we should consider testing her.”

“She’s too young.”

Brigid raised one eyebrow. “Is that your judgment as a priestess or your protective instinct as her mother?”

“Is it so wrong for me not to want to involve her in all this, especially when things in the village are so tense?” Rian shook her head. “Besides a girl her age has never been tested.”

“That we know of,” Brigid added. “That is not to say that it’s never been done.”

“Why, Brigid? Don’t we have enough priestesses?”

“For the moment.”

“Then we can wait.”

“If that is your decision.”

Rian blinked in surprise. Was Brigid, high priestess of the Goddess, yielding to her? “My decision?”

“I will not fight you on this, Rian,” Brigid said, her voice suddenly sounding tired. “I have enough battles to fight as it is. But please give it some thought.”

Prica entered the main chamber. She paused when she saw the two older priestesses. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, Prica,” Brigid answered as she rose to her feet. “I was just leaving.”

The younger priestess watched her leave the chamber. Assured that she was gone, Prica turned to Rian. “Is Brigid well?”

“She’s just tired,” Rian replied. She quickly cleaned up the herbs she had used in her prayers. Once the shrine was again immaculate, she wished Prica a good evening and headed home.

* * * * *

Over the next several days, Rian gave the matter considerable thought. She prayed to the Goddess for some guidance, for some sign regarding the testing of her daughter. But no guidance came during her meditations. No sign presented itself.

Brigid had misinterpreted the message from the Goddess, Rian told herself. The high priestess was only mortal and thus capable of mistakes. Besides Aneri was just too young to be tested.

And there were other matters that needed her attention. Dia had just had her first child, a strong boy she had named Anin. A boy and his family from a nearby village had approached Esus about a possible marriage to Iora. With so much happening, Rian let the matter of testing Aneri slip from her mind.

* * * * *

Rian was grateful when Beris had finally arrived to assume the duties of the shrine. It had been a long day and the older priestess longed for her bed. As she approached her home, she was surprised to see the fire still alight inside.

Afraid that one of the children had forgotten to bank the hearth fire, Rian hurried inside. She paused when she found Aneri standing before the still blazing fire in the hearth, stirring some mixture in a bowl. Rian hung up her cloak and quietly entered the main room.

Rian watched as Aneri ladled water from a pot in the hearth into the bowl. A fragrant steam rose from the bowl, filling the room with the scent of herbs. Taking a deep breath, Rian recognized the combination of herbs used in a balm to soothe burns. “Who was burned?”

Aneri nearly dropped the bowl as she whirled to face her mother. “Efrir.”

Rian wasn’t surprised that it was her youngest son. He had grown reckless as of late. “Badly?”

“No, just a minor burn to his arm. I used the last of the balm to treat it so I decided to make more.”

She glanced at the mixture in the bowl. It had the right appearance for this stage of preparation. “Did Iora give you the instructions?”

“No, I remembered from her lessons with you last winter,” she admitted. “Since I still remembered how, I thought I could make it.”

Rian frowned. While most wives knew simple cures and tonics, more advance herb lore was a domain of the priestesses. The balm that Aneri was making was a salve known only to the priestesses.

What would Brigid say about an uninitiated girl with such advanced but limited knowledge of herbs? That she would have to be brought before the Goddess? That she would surely become a priestess?

“What is the most complicated tonic you know?” Rian asked.

“The tonic for dreamless sleep, but I haven’t dared to try to make it yet.”

Rian tried to hide her surprise. She had not made that particular tonic since the season of renewal. Fearing that the girl may be boasting, she asked Aneri to recite the instructions, which the girl gave perfectly.

“Thank you, Aneri. You may go to bed. I will finish the balm.”

The girl quickly left the room. As promised, Rian quickly finished the balm. After banking the fire, she went to bed herself. However, she found nothing but a fitful sleep.