“Don’t be,” Remus took her arm and carefully helped her over a bit of rough ground, making sure that no dust clung to her white dress.
“I wish Kalliope had come…”
“She didn’t need to because she knows that the two of us can handle this without any problems.”
“But…”
“Nimue, Cadmus has been to the camp several times, he would have let Kalliope know if the Satyrs presented any threat.”
“But what if…”
Remus stopped walking and pulled Nimue to a halt as well, “stop that right now young lady. I believe you were placed in Gryffindor for a reason. Where is that bravery now?”
Nimue sighed, “I think I used it all up.”
She sounded so despondently serious that Remus couldn’t help but chuckle at her forlorn expression, “you will do just fine. Besides, I’m the one that has to do most of the talking, you’re just along as a figurehead.”
“So everyone will be watching me, that makes me feel so much better,” sarcasm crept into her tone.
“And I’ll be beside you the whole time. Now, we’re almost there, let’s see how you look…” Remus made such a show of brushing some invisible dust off the hem of Nimue’s robes that she relaxed enough to give him a small smile. “That’s much better,” he told her, referring to the smile, not the state of her robes.
“I think I’m ready.”
“Not quite yet, we have to go over one quick bit of ceremony,” Remus pulled open a bag he had been carrying with him and retrieved a red pomegranate from it, which he placed in Nimue’s hands. “It is tradition to present your hosts with a gift. They will line up to meet us, so it won’t be hard to tell the hierarchy. You are to give the pomegranate to the chief woman of the tribe. I’ll give you a nudge in the right direction if you need it.” He next pulled out an intricately worked lyre and a beaten gold cup, “and these go to the chief male, but that is my responsibility.” He stowed the now empty bag under a bush by the side of the path, “are you ready?”
“I think so. But what if they’re not expecting us?”
“They know we’re coming. They’ve been watching us for awhile now,” as though to confirm his words there came an audible rustling from the bushes nearby.
Nimue swallowed roughly, “well then… let’s go.”
“Be careful with the wine,” Remus advised her quietly as they approached the grove where the encampment was, “you’ll be expected to drink some, at least for ceremony’s sake, but I doubt that they’ve watered it down at all.”
Nimue nodded in understanding and felt her heart racing as they came into the shade of the trees where the Satyrs were gathered. They were coming out to greet them, at least she hoped they were there to greet them, just as Remus had said.
The Satyrs had gathered in front of their fires, the children clustered in the back, and they stood there silently, making no move of welcome. They were indistinguishable from humans, except for their pointed ears and the occasionally visible tail.
Nimue, realizing that they would have to make the first move, took several small steps forward towards the woman with the most elaborate jewelry. She held out the pomegranate, “may the blessing of the Goddess be granted to you.” She held her breath, waiting. Finally the Satyr woman reached out and took the pomegranate from her. She then slipped one of the gold bracelets she wore, hung with charms shaped like ivy leaves, from her wrist and said something in a dialect that Nimue didn’t understand. She turned desperate eyes to Remus.
“Hold out your hand,” Remus instructed her quietly.
Nimue complied and was a bit surprised when the woman slipped the bracelet over her wrist. It seemed that she had been accepted into the camp. However, even after Remus presented the gifts he carried to the chieftain of the tribe no move of friendship was made towards him.
Nimue suddenly grew very scared. She noticed that all eyes were trained on the blade that hung from Remus’ belt. Sweet Circe, they’re going to think it is a threat and kill us both!
They stood there for several silent and very tense minutes. Both parties staring at each other. When Nimue shifted slightly the tinkling from the bracelet that now hung from her wrist sounded as loud as a gong.
Remus turned to Nimue, ready to tell her to turn slowly and head back to the temple when the chieftain grabbed him in a fierce hug, laughing heartily, “he is not human!” he proclaimed to the crowd. The mood instantly relaxed and hands came out to draw the temple representatives closer to the fires.
Remus breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that Nimue hadn’t realized how desperate their situation had nearly become. He watched as the wine started to flow, the chieftain, who said his name was Priapos, held up an elaborately decorated cup and made a show of drinking from it before handing it to Remus, who was met with a cheer as he raised the cup to his lips.
Nimue quickly found herself separated from Remus and in the middle of a cluster of women.
“The child is human?” Priapos asked.
Remus glanced over the where Nimue was to ensure that she was alright, “the child is a novice of the temple, which means she is protected by the Goddess, and she is a prophetess.”
“Rest assured my friend, the child will not be harmed. She is similar in age to my own children, I shall keep an eye on her. And you are welcome here brother wolf. Those of us who do not bleed human blood must keep together.
Despite the Satyr’s promises of safety Remus felt a wave of relief when Nimue made her way back to him. But she was still surrounded by the women and a few of the men, who kept reaching out to touch her light colored hair and to finger the fine weave of her dress.
“She is one of the immortals! Look at her eyes!” one of the children grabbed at Priapos’ arm as Nimue came close, “and she glows like the immortals.”
“And how did you become so wise that you can recognize the form the Goddess takes here on Earth?” Priapos bent to address the child, “but perhaps she is not a goddess… perhaps she is a Spartan.”
“She is not, she is a goddess!” the child insisted.
“But we are told that the women from Sparta have light hair and walk freely among men with no fear, she fits the description of a Spartan woman.”
“No she doesn’t. Their women train as warriors and she is no warrior!”
“You are right, she is not a warrior, so she most surely is a goddess as you say,” he winked at Nimue as he swung the child up to stand on a tree stump, “so we must be very modest and respectful towards her while she is here lest she decide to strike us down.”
“She would not strike us down,” the boy insisted, “she is the Kore!”
Nimue was trying hard not to blush, but she wasn’t used to being in the center of attention like this, and she could feel her cheeks turning pink.
“So, she is the Kore now,” Priapos sounded highly amused, “well, welcome to our humble camp Persephone, we honor you, for you are similar to our own beloved Ariadne.” He held out a cup of wine to Nimue, who took it, and after receiving a nod of approval from Remus took a small sip. Remus had been right, it was very strong, much stronger than she was used to. She immediately handed the cup off to someone else so she wouldn’t be expected to drink more.
“We have seen and conversed with the tribe of men who camp down on the beach,” Priapos turned his attention back to Remus, “but I was not aware that there were any men, let alone non-humans at the temple. The priestesses tend to stick to themselves most of the time.”
Remus knew that the Satyrs would have little recognition of the nature of marriage, so he replied in terms that he knew they would understand, “I share the bed of the High Priestess.”
This was met with another chorus of cheers and a number of innuendos and jokes that he fervently hoped Nimue was listening to, or if she did hear them, that they went over her head. The Satyrs were a coarser group than he would prefer her to be around. Let alone the thought of what Severus would say if he could hear what she was being exposed to.
“What of the little one, is she yours too?” another of the Satyr males inquired.
Remus knew exactly what they were referring to when they asked if she was his. To save any unnecessary confusion and praying that Severus would never find out he answered as simply as he could, “she is my daughter.” It wasn’t quite a lie. The girl was in Kalliope’s care and he was Kalliope’s consort. He could, fairly honestly, claim her as a fosterling.
“You must join us for a meal,” Priapos proclaimed, “my men have procured a goat,” the way he said it made it seem as though the goat had not been acquired in a legal manner. As he spoke tow of the men attached the animal to a spit over the largest of the fires.
“We would be honored to be your guests,” Remus replied.
“And we are honored to have you.”
It was not until they had all eaten that Remus brought forth the real reason fro their visit to the encampment, “there is a dark force gathering in the North, the devotees wear black cloaks and white masks.”
Priapos spat on the ground, “they have been here before, nearly twenty years ago. I remember them. They killed a large number of our tribe. They have been seen close to here again.”
Remus stiffened, he hadn’t heard that Death Eaters had been seen in Greece. He wondered if the Order knew, “where?”
“On another island south of here, near a shrine to Apollo. They were looking for the centaurs. We heard the story from a group of nymphs who warmed our beds a week ago.”
“Do you think this island is safe from them?”
“We are not camped so near the temple for idle reasons.”
“There is safety in numbers,” Remus agreed, watching Priapos closely for a reaction.
“And separately we can scatter and hide.”
“There are not many who can hide from the Dark Lord, and he has an extreme distaste for non-humans.”
“You are getting at something brother wolf.”
“An alliance.”
Priapos stroked his beard thoughtfully, “I am not sure if that is in our best interests. I have my tribe to think of and I do not want to put them in any unnecessary danger.”
“I understand and respect that, but we are facing dark times. Unless we all stand together we may all fall separately.”
“This dark creature from the North, surely he will stay there and not seek anything from us here in the Aegean!”
“He has already made an alliance with the followers of Seth.”
Priapos narrowed his eyes and his elongated ears twitched, “my people are not warriors, we do not train for war as your men do.”
“We are in need of more than warriors. Your people have connections all over the Aegean.”
“You wish us to join as a sort of middle man?”
“Something like that. We would have you as gatherers of information and as messengers.”
“We serve of god of revelry and excess, not of stealth.”
“But it is our hope that if you aid us so will the nymphs. We could not ask for better lookouts and spies.”
“True… the nymphs are all but impossible to catch… the moment you think you have one she turns into a flower in the middle of a field and you have lost her… But I do not think the nymphs will join a side. They are far too secretive and solitary, not to mention flighty. They can keep themselves out of harms way and that is all that matters to them.”
“But your people are not as adept at hiding themselves,” Remus pressed.
“True, but we prefer a lifestyle free from human intervention…”
Remus sighed in frustration, it didn’t seem as though they were going to get anywhere with this.
“Please join us.”
Remus’ head shot up, he had very nearly forgotten that Nimue was with him.
Nimue rose from where she had been sitting with the women and knelt at Priapos’ feet, wrapping her arms around his knees in a gesture of supplication, “Voldemort will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his way.”
“We are a peaceful group filled with women and children…”
“He has marked me for death. He tried to kill me once because my father defied him. Now he wants my life. He will not hesitate to kill the innocent, he reaps pleasure from it.”
Priapos looked down into Nimue’s large, pleading eyes, “very well, we shall join you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
