From Oiorpata the Amazon’s Tale:
29. The Amazon’s Tale
I am of the Oiorpata clan of the Steppe tribes, known among the lands of men as Scythians. It was with a heavy heart that I left my sisters of the Oiorpata behind me to begin my great quest, but we are not all destined to live a life of contentment and tranquillity. However, I miss the companionship of women of my clan, I miss the Steppe, I miss the wide, wide sky and the open grasslands. It may yet be long ere I can return to my home and my people.
Men have always found my clan odd and “other”. Our traditions tell the tale that other clans gave us the name Oiorpata, which in the Scythian tongue means “man slayer”. However, we live a harmonious existence amongst ourselves on the Steppe, tending our flocks and our horses, although we will defend our way of life ferociously from those who assume that, as women, we are easy prey and that they can take what is ours.
We have always been apart because we choose to live without men amongst us. This does not mean that we dislike men or that we do not lie with men and bear children. We are, after all, the Lifebringers, the name by which we know ourselves. Amongst the Oiorpata, when a woman brings forth a female child, she is brought up amongst us and taught our customs and ways. Male children are handed over to their fathers to be brought up in the ways of men. The clans of the Steppe have frequent meetings in our wanderings and so alliances and liaisons are formed between groups and individuals.
Women of the Oiorpata seldom pair bond, though it does happen occasionally. My own grandparents were pair bonded and lived happily apart, seeing each other infrequently, but delighting in each others’ company when they did meet up. However, my grandfather was part of a different clan which, like most other peoples I have met, comprises men and women.
So it was that amongst the Steppe clans a night of great feasting and drinking took place during one of our festivals. Many Steppe clans were there including the Oiorpata and so we were witness to the boasts that men were making. My grandfather’s boast was that he had travelled further than anyone present, and so an argument took place about who had travelled furthest which lead to my grandfather swearing an oath that he would travel to the Pillars of Hercules and would bring back a stone from there as proof of his achievement.
Sadly my grandfather died before he was able to fulfill his oath. My grandmother was deeply saddened to think of my grandfather’s spirit being unable to rest because of the unfulfilled oath and so she swore the oath to undertake the journey on his behalf. But she, in her turn, died soon after setting out on the journey. And so the oath fell to her first born daughter, my mother. At the time my mother was big with child and when her time came she brought forth a still born male child, her first and last male child, as her travails killed her.
Our shaman examined the afterbirth and consulted with the spirits allied to the Sky God and declared that there is a curse on my family. No woman of my grandparents’ line will be able to bring forth any more lives until my grandfather’s oath has been fulfilled.
As my mother’s eldest daughter the oath fell to me and so I left the Steppe and wandered the world of men. Long it has taken me to get this far west. I have borne arms in the armies of the Persians and wandered through Greek lands, picking up a smattering of their languages but mainly the barbaric Arma tongue which is so widely used. There it was that I discovered that the Oiorpata are known the world over in tales of the Greeks who call us Amazons. Many think that these tales are no more than myths! It has been no easy task making my way through the lands of men. I have learned how little respect men have for their own women and have had to fight hard to earn a modicum of their respect for myself.
Every time I had accumulated a little money I used it to travel further west until I reached Carthage. But it was in Carthage that I discovered how greedy and grasping people can truly be. The only way I could make my own way was to tend horses, and at first I was grateful for the job offered by that greek sheister who runs the Golden Fleece. I had room and board and was paid to do something I did without thought of payment on the Steppe. But I discovered it would take me an eternity to earn enough money to buy passage on a ship to New Carthage.
However, that greasy, wife-beating, lecherous crook of a landlord and I were soon at loggerheads. He obviously knows very little about horses and was more interested in penny-pinching than in proper care for these beautiful animals. He would make me reuse the filthy straw for the horses and bade me under-feed the poor animals even though the patrons paid handsomely for the beasts’ care. He frequently accused me of using too much horse feed or too much straw and would dock my wages accordingly. I knew that my days there were numbered and the day that I met my current companions was the final straw.
The landlord had been suggesting to me that I ought to “be nice” to a group of drunken greek louts. But instead I fell into conversation with a large, brawny Gaul. When the Gaul stepped outside for a moment of private contemplation one of the Greeks laid hands on me and I saw red. During the ensuing fight I knew that the landlord would end up making me pay for it and so when the Carthaginian offered me a place in his party to journey to the country’s interior I jumped at the chance. Here was an opportunity to make more money than I would have earned in a year working at the Golden Fleece, but more importantly I would be escaping the confines of the city and would once again be ahorse under the wide blue sky.
It felt so very, very good to be atop a horse once again, where I belong, but I soon found that my riding skills had faded somewhat. I therefore took the opportunity to practise as we rode along. This was easy to effect as we followed a well worn track through civilised lands and were forced to ride at a slow pace by some members of our party. In Carthage, funded by the priest, I had managed to procure a good Numidian pony for my own use, the donkey and a pony for the use of the Greek but since he prefers to go afoot it acts as a pack pony. The priest and the Gaul have their own heavy cavalry horses. I had got to know the Gaul’s horse when he was staying at the Golden Fleece so it has been my pleasure to continue to care for such a fine and noble steed, as well as the other mounts.
After journeying for a week or so we arrived in a small desert settlement which went by the name Teveste. The priest had brought with him trinkets and baubles to trade with the natives. We met with the tribal elders (not one woman among them [tsk!]), and after the priest had handed over some of the gifts, the elders agreed to allow us to buy what limited supplies were available in their village. As we browsed the market stalls I was able to observe something of the Numidian culture and was dismayed to find that, even here, women seem to spend most of their time indoors, tending home and family instead of outdoors on horseback like their menfolk. As usual I seemed to be an object of amazement once they became aware of my gender.
One thing I did appreciate was the fine quality horseflesh. These Numidians certainly know horses and are accomplished riders, well the men at least. Speaking of which, one of the Numidians, a young man named Serif, had proved to be particularly useful to us in acting as an interpreter with the elders. He seemed to have some sort of connection with the priest who happily accepted when the Numidian offered to act as our guide and accompany us to our destination, a place called Kascatore.
After spending a few days at Kascatore the party and horses had eaten through most of our supplies so Serif and I agreed to return to Teveste for horse fodder and food for the party. We travelled at some speed given our need for a hasty return with supplies.
On the return journey Serif explained to me with some hesitancy that on our previous visit the elders had not realised that I was a woman and that they would not have permitted my presence at the council if they had been aware (tsk!). He indicated that women may be permitted to attend council meetings if they can first pass the warrior’s test of horsemanship. I agreed to take part in any horsemanship test they cared to set.
On our return to Teveste the elders did indeed set their test which I completed straight away. Serif had told me that no woman of Teveste had succeeded in this test since his grandmother, a fact he relayed with pride, but when the test was explained to me I almost laughed out loud. It was the sort of game I played with my sisters and cousins on the Steppe when I was a child. When I passed their test my mother would have laughed aloud to see the round eyes of the Numidian men. No wonder they stared at me in the market place! But their women are just as capable if they but knew it and had they been given half a chance.
Serif and I returned to Kascatore uneventfully and, a few days after, the party left that place to return to Carthage. On our return to Carthage and after money matters had been attended to I went to the docks to make enquiries about vessels likely to be heading for New Carthage later in the Spring. I feel I have already tarried too long in this place and must prepare to continue on my journey to the Pillars of Hercules and my quest to fulfill my grandfather’s oath and lift the curse on my family.