"Her name is Rhonwyn," Medhir told him. "Greet her in my name when you meet and remember me to her mother."

"And," his father added, "tell her Gwyddno Garanhir will give her two head of cattle and four pigs if she will consent to nurse the child."

Elphin left his father's house, saddled a red mare for Rhonwyn and, taking up his reins, climbed into the saddle once more and rode north for Diganhwy, leading the mare.

CHAPTER THREE.

Kellios glittered hard beneath Bel's fire-bright disk as it rode high in the sky of cool azure, trailing wisps of clouds like gossamer streamers. The streets had been swept clean and washed the day before and were now crowded with people who had come from all over Sarras to see the spectacle and enjoy the festivities.

The line of royal carriages emerged from the King's Gate in the northern wall of Avallach's palace and entered the Processional Way-led by the king's gleaming chariot, pulled by four stallions and driven by Avallach himself. Charis peered from the queen's coach at the crowds thronging the streets and hanging from upper windows, cheering noisily as the procession rolled slowly past. The princess waved now and then and accepted the gifts of flowers that were tossed into the coach. Her two younger brothers caught bouquets in the air and threw them back, making a game of it as they went along.

At length the carriages arrived at the arena. "The best seat is mine!" announced Guistan, vaulting from the carriage as soon as it rocked to a halt outside the main entrance.

"Wait one moment!" called Briseis. "It will do no good to shove your way through the crowd. Our seats have already been a.s.signed in the royal loge. Ushers will seat us."

"Aw!" whined Eoinn, "I want to sit in front."

"Perhaps we shall," replied Briseis. "In any event you will conduct yourselves like civilized beings. Guistan! Do you hear me? And there will be no squabbling for seats. Do you understand?" She received muttered promises and they disembarked.

Charis did not care where where they sat. as long as it was inside the arena. Many would be shut out that day; most in fact. The bull dances, all too rare in Sarras, were always well attended by an enthusiastic and appreciative crowd. they sat. as long as it was inside the arena. Many would be shut out that day; most in fact. The bull dances, all too rare in Sarras, were always well attended by an enthusiastic and appreciative crowd.

Blue-clad ushers muscled them through the knot of people at the arena gates where Briseis paused. "I think we should wait for Belyn and Elaine."

"We will lose our places," Eoinn whined.

"Be quiet," said Charis. "Consider yourself fortunate to get to go at all. Long ago there was no room for anyone anyone-no one but the king attended the ceremonies."

"Who told you that?"

"Annubi," replied Charis. "Ask Mother if you do not Believe me."

"Is that true?" wondered Eoinn "Only the king?" asked Guistan.

"Only the king, and perhaps a few Magi," Briseis acknowledged.

"What about the races?" Eoinn wanted to know.

"There were no races," informed Briseis. "And no tableaux, either."

"What did they do?" asked Guistan.

"They performed the sacred rites of purification, sacrificed to Bel, and dined on specially prepared foods."

"They ate borsemeat," added Charis importantly.

"They did not!" complained Eoinn, finding this fact hard to accept.

"They did!" insisted Charis. "Annubi told me."

"It was long ago," said Briseis. "People Believed differently then."

Charis wondered what else they Believed long ago that no one Believed now. "Why did they change?" she asked.

"It happens," said her mother. "Little changes, like small steps all along the way, bring you to a different place. One day you wake up and things are not the same anymore."

Belyn and Elaine's carriage rolled up then and when the two had joined the others, they all entered the cool darkness of the entrance, ringing with the distant-sounding voices of those already filling the arena. A moment later they were blinking in the bright sunlight once more, the muted cheers now a throaty roar. They entered the royal loge, a large wooden gallery filled with chairs and rows of padded benches and covered by a rippling blue canopy on poles of burnished bronze.

The ushers led them to a high-backed chair with a long bench beside, which to the delight of the princes was but one row from the very front. A few of Belyn's men and others Avallach had invited were already seated. Belyn excused himself and took a seat next to one of his courtiers.

With a stern admonition to the princes not to besmirch the family honor, Briseis allowed the boys to find their own places while she and Charis joined Elaine. The two women fell into easy conversation and Charis, thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the crowd streaming into the arena, turned her attention to the sights and sounds around her.

The arena was an enormous oval of white stair-stepped stone, affixed with wooden stands and benches, most of which were uncovered, although many far-thinking spectators had erected sunshades of various types to keep off the worst of a hot afternoon sun. These shades gave the steep sides of the stadium a patchwork appearance as colorful and rowdy as the throng cl.u.s.tered beneath, voices raised, all of them, to highest pitch.

Horns blared and drums boomed as musicians wandered up and down the wide aisles. Across the carefully raked sand of the arena floor a section opposite the royal logo erupted in a spatter of applause as a trio of acrobats practiced their craft; jugglers amused the crowds for the coins flung to them. Above the commotion vendors shouted, their well-seasoned voices cutting through the din as they waved their wares: ribbon bands and small bulls carved from olive wood.

And the smells-a pungent perfume concocted of the thick, greasy scent of food cooking in heavy olive oil; the rich, earthy odor of the cattle stalls beneath the stadium; the light, airy tang of sun-warmed salt air off the sea.

For the moment, the world surged around her with excitement and Charis exulted in the splendor of the day in all its disparate elements.

From the top tier of seats above the royal loge, trumpeters gave forth a shimmering volley that seemed to pierce the air like a flight of silver arrows, echoing and reechoing through the stadium. At the signal, a huge garland-decked staircase emerged Below the royal loge; from the far side of the arena a door opened and a chariot pulled by four white stallions rolled out onto the white sand as the trumpets sent a welcoming flourish spinning through the air.

"Look!" cried Charis. "There is Father!"

The chariot made a circuit of the arena and rolled to a stop at the foot of the staircase. King Avallach handed the reins to his driver, Kian, stepped lightly from the chariot, and proceeded up the stairs to take his place in the royal loge.

The heralds trumpeted once more, sending a cascade of glittering sound into the air and Avallach rose to speak, raising his hands for silence. "My people!" he called, his voice penetrating the restless quiet. "We have come together to renew the bond between king and kingdom. Today you are part of this ancient and holy rite." He paused to gaze over the impatient ma.s.ses. "Let the ceremony begin!"

The trumpets blared and the arena doors were opened. Huge platforms drawn by oxen in gilded harness trundled slowly into the bright sunlight, each platform a mobile tableau. Though she had seen them many times before, Charis leaned forward eagerly. As each tableau moved past, she felt as if if she were she were there, there, transported back through the ages to the event portrayed: Astea toiling at the loom of the Cyclopes; King Corineus wrestling with the giant, Gogmagog; Dryope plucking the lotus from the pool of Eternity; Me-lampus among the wise serpents; Tisiphone with her whip of scorpions, punishing the sons of Incubus for stealing the souls of her children... transported back through the ages to the event portrayed: Astea toiling at the loom of the Cyclopes; King Corineus wrestling with the giant, Gogmagog; Dryope plucking the lotus from the pool of Eternity; Me-lampus among the wise serpents; Tisiphone with her whip of scorpions, punishing the sons of Incubus for stealing the souls of her children...

One after another, the platforms made their slow way around the arena to a chorus of gasps and sighs from an appreciative audience. Musicians a.s.sembled in the center of the arena filled the stadium with melodious sound. Charis gazed entranced at each and every one and applauded with the rest when the last rolled by.

"I am hungry," whined a voice, disturbingly near. Charis turned to see Guistan leaning over her mother's chair. "I am hungry. " hungry. " The delicate mood was broken. The delicate mood was broken.

"We will eat something soon," soothed Briseis. "Go back and sit down."

"But I'm hungry now!" now!" he insisted. he insisted.

"Food will be brought when it is ready. Now go back and sit down."

Guistan shambled back to his seat, and Charis frowned after him. Why did I have to have any brothers at all? she wondered. They ruin everything. I would be perfectly happy alone.

Charis did not have time to pursue the thought further. The trumpets sounded another flourish, the arena doors were flung wide, and into the ring bounced a troupe of young men and women, tumbling and cartwheeling, their supple bodies glistening as they somersaulted through the air.

"The bull dancers!" cried Charis with delight.

The dancers were bare except for the white leather clout, and, for the women, a narrow band of white linen across their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Their hair was worn in a long braid wrapped in strips of white linen; several wore flowers in their hair, others chains of plaited flowers around their necks.

They made their way to the center of the arena where they were joined by the High Mage of the Temple of Poseidon, who carried an ewer of water and a bowl of wine. The wine was served around the group, standing in a loose circle around the Mage, who took the ewer and poured water over the heads and hands of the dancers.

Their ablutions finished, the dancers performed a series of intricate acrobatic figures, twisting and spinning as they flew over one another in high, graceful arcs.

They were so engaged when the first bull appeared, an energetic young beast, heavy of shoulder hump and chest, but light in the hind quarters. Its horns were blunted and the stumps bound in leather. The animal trotted toward the dancers, gaining speed as it came. At the last second it charged. The dancers spun away, leaving the confused animal standing alone in the center of the arena.

Two female dancers took advantage of the animal's confusion to vault across its back, while a male dancer grabbed its tail and tugged. The animal Bellowed and whirled, but not before another pair of dancers leaped high over its back. This went on for some time, the dancers having fun with the young bull, warming to their art.

Eventually the beast had enough of chasing shadows, turned tail, and ran from the arena as soon as the wooden doors gapped to let it out. The stadium roared with laughter, and Charis thought the animal appeared relieved to escape.

The bull dancers, limber and loose from their play, tightened their handstraps and linked arms with one another, singing a song which Charis could not hear. But she saw their heads thrown back and the expression of rapture on their faces, and she understood why people considered them touched by the G.o.ds. Theirs was a difficult and dangerous art, with intricacies little understood by those who watched and applauded and threw their coins and bracelets into the ring.

The dancers accepted these gifts, but danced for the G.o.ds and for themselves alone. This set them apart.

As they sang, the doors opened again. Out charged another bull: a monstrous creature, a mobile mountain, black as pitch, its ma.s.sive ribs gleaming with the oil that had been rubbed into its velvet hide. Its horns were painted red, with tips of gold that flashed in the sun as it tossed its head. The bull made for the center of the ring and stood flinging sand into the air with a forehoof.

The dancers backed away slowly, leaving one of their number, the team leader, standing alone to face the bull. The dancer walked slowly toward the beast, hands outstretched. The animal snorted and raked the ground with its hoof, lowered its head and charged. Charis did not imagine a creature that size could be so quick. She gasped and threw her hands over her eyes.

But the dancer stood unafraid and as the bull closed on him, simply raised his foot and stepped onto the careening animal's forehead, allowing the beast's momentum and the toss of its head to propel him up and over the broad back.

The crowd sighed and Charis peeped between her fingers to see the bull skid to a halt, the dancer touching down lightly behind him. Before the bull could charge again, two more dancers came running from either side to handspring across its flanks. The bull swung its head this way and that, but the dancers were already gone.

The bull Bellowed its rage and gathered itself for another attack. Head lowered, it charged, hurtling across the arena with the speed of an onrushing chariot. Three dancers quickly took places behind the leader. The beast, its head nearly touching the ground, closed on the dancers who, without the slightest effort, seemed to fly up, and over the flashing horns, tumbling through the air to the shouts of their companions. The bull spun, scattering sand in a white shower across the arena.

One of the female dancers ran up, grabbed the horns, and swung herself into the air. The bull raised its head and the girl kicked into a handstand that lasted until the beast shook its head angrily to dislodge her, whereupon she simply collapsed into a ball and rolled down its shoulder.

The next dancer took the center of the arena. He whistled and clapped his hands to draw the animal's attention. When the bull came for him, he turned his back and waited, motionless, the churning mountain of fury streaking toward him.

The crowd groaned. Women screamed. Charis watched it al! this time, fascinated, her heart in her throat.

At the last possible instant, there came a shout from one of his comrades and the dancer bent his knees and jumped, swinging his hands over his head. Back bent, he rose into the air with his hands catching the bull's horns as they sliced the air where he had been standing only a heartbeat earlier. The bull reared its head and threw the spinning dancer high into the air where he tucked himself into a ball and somersaulted to the ground.

The bull, tired now and spewing white foam from its mouth and nostrils, roared in frustration as the bold dancer tumbled to earth behind him. Other dancers vaulted over the beast's shoulders and rump. When it spun, they disappeared. It spun again, futilely, when they leaped upon its back to stand three together, arms linked, while the heaving hillock beneath them tried its best to shake them off.

Charis laughed and cheered as wildly as the rest. The dancers were so agile, their movements so swift and sure, it seemed as if they had only to step into the air and fly. She wondered what it would feel like to be able to move like that, to perform with such arrogance and grace, to dance the bulls beneath Bel's golden disk.

She was still laughing when one of the dancers, a young woman, racing in full flight toward the bull, planted her feet, jumped, and sailed over its back, her body straight, turning slowly, arms outspread. She came down on her feet, legs slightly bent. The momentum of her jump carried her forward and she fell onto her hands.

It was a small error, a minor miscalculation. The bull whipped its head around just as she dodged to the side. The near horn caught the inside of her arm and threw her down on her back. Quick as a blink, her teammates leaped to her defense, but it was nearly done.

The bull lunged and the woman rolled. The beast's right horn found her side and she was hooked and flung, arms and legs dangling awkwardly, blood spilling out in scarlet ribbons onto the white sand.

Impaled on the horn, the mad bull drove her forward, head down, to gore her on the ground. Charis' mouth held a silent scream. The team leader attacked the animal, snaked his arm around a horn, and thrust his fingers into the beast's nostrils. The bull squalled and reared, shaking its head furiously, but the young man clung to its neck. Two other dancers sprang forward and lifted the limp body of the female dancer from the b.l.o.o.d.y horn.

The crowd moaned when they saw the wicked tear in the dancer's side. Her torso was stained a deep, brilliant red and her skin had gone deathly white.

Charis turned and her mother's arms were around her. She hid her face against her mother's shoulder and sobbed, "It killed her... She is dead!"

A shaken Briseis tried to soothe her daughter, "There, Charis, shhh... Do not cry. Look-look, they are taking her away. She is alive, not dead... Look, she is waving!"

It was true. At the moment of the accident the doors had been flung open and handlers with bull nets had run to the animal and, with much tugging and pulling, were now wrestling it from the arena. Meanwhile, supported by three of her companions, the young woman was carried to the nearest door. Her head was back and her eyes open. One hand was pressed to her bleeding wound, but the other was raised in the bull dancer's triumphant salute.

The spectators saw the salute and leaped to their feet with a great cry-mostly relief and astonishment, but also admiration for the young woman's courage. The cry became a roar and then a victory chant as the dancer was borne away.

Still trembling, Charis raised her head to see the girl carried from the ring. "Will she be all right?"

"I think so," replied Briseis. "I hope so."

The bull was manhandled from the arena by the netmen and another bull introduced. The dancers performed, but the spark that ignited their art and made it burn so fiercely was gone. After a few perfunctory tricks the bull, too, lost interest and loped away as soon as the pitmen let it out.

"Well, I am glad it is finished for the day," sighed Elaine. "I love to watch, but it is a shame when one of them gets hurt."

Charis stared at her aunt. A beautiful woman was nearly killed and Elaine called it "a shame." She looked around the arena, at all the people who appeared to have completely forgotten what had taken place only minutes before. She wanted to get up and shout at them, to thrust her finger at the dark stains in the sand and demand respect for the injury of one whose blood had been given for their pleasure.

But the crowd was already occupied with the next entertainment entering the arena: a line of trained elephants, trunk to tail, brightly painted, following their trainer on huge silent feet. Charis loved elephants; ordinarily she would have squealed for joy. But not now. Her heart was with the injured dancer and she could think of nothing else.

The rest of the festivities failed to kindle Charis' interest. She neither saw nor did not see, heard nor did not hear. She ate some food offered to her, but did not taste a bite. The afternoon pa.s.sed and she heard her mother saying, "It is time to go. Do you want to stay here all night?"

The shadows had grown long, and the sun was well along in its plunge to the sea. "Have you been asleep, Charis?"

"No," she shook her head slightly. "Not asleep."

Her mother stood. "We must hurry along."

"Where are we going?"

"To the sacrifice. Have you forgotten?" Briseis studied her daughter closely. "Charis, are you well?"

Charis stood abruptly. "I want to see her."

"Who?"

"The girl."

"What girl? Charis, what are you talking about?"

"We are going to walk up the hill now and watch the Magi perform the sacrifice to Bel," explained her aunt.

"I have have to see her." to see her."

"Who?" The queen knelt beside her daughter. "Charis, answer me. Who do you mean?"

"The bull girl-the dancer. I must go to her."

"But it is late. We cannot"