The others were busily eating when Marophon joined them. He became the butt of some gentle teasing, although no one noticed his glance of stark guilt as he slipped into his place at the table.
They ate, and when they had nearly finished Charis rose and said, “You noisy Gulls, quiet now and listen. Today is a special day.”
“The queen has but one natal day,” remarked Joet.
“Shhh! Listen,” said Belissa.
“Some of you,” continued Charis, “may know that I spoke with the Belrene yesterday. It has come to mis” She paused.
They stopped eating and sat up. “Well, must we stand on our heads?” asked Peronn.
“He has agreed to give us half of the gold sacrifice from now on”
“Half!” cried Joet, leaping to his feet. The bull dancers looked at one another in disBelief. Joet swept Charis into a clumsy embrace and kissed her cheek. “Half, by the god’s golden gonads! Did you hear? Praise for our beautiful headstrong leader!”
“Sit down, Joet,” shouted the others. “Let her finish.”
“The Belrene has also agreed to allow me to choose the bulls. Yes, and he has seen the error of trying to force his ridiculous rules on us.”
“We are free!” cried Peronn and Galai together.
“And rich!” added Joet.
“What is the matter, Maro?” teased Beiissa. She nudged him in the ribs. “Did you leave your head under the covers this morning?”
Marophon smiled weakly. “No, I heard. I am glad…”
Other teams of dancers had begun filing into the courtyard. “Now then,” said Charis, “I want you to begin your exercise at once. We must be finished before the sun gets too hot. Do not rush. Begin slowly. It will be an oven out there today; we will be wise to nurse our stamina.” She clapped her hands. “Get along with you now. I will join you very soon.”
The dancers shoved back their chairs and started across the courtyard. “Maro,” Charis called. “A word please.”
The dancer returned, shamefaced. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and stood gazing down at his feet instead.
“I will not remind you of your sacred vow of abstinence,” Charis began. Although she spoke softly, there was a wilting anger behind her tongue just waiting to be unleashed. “We are all virgins-or were-sacred to the god alone as long as we dance. Tell me, why have you seen fit to break this holy vow? And how long have you been sleeping with this whore?”
“She is no whore,” he began. “She is a dancer. She”
“More the shame! You have caused her to break her vow as well. Maro, what were you thinking of? Today of all days!”
“I-I am sorry…”
“If I were Belrene you would both be scourged and flung down the temple steps.”
“But you said the Belrene gave you permission to deal with us yourself.”
“Shut up, Maro! You make things worse with your whining. Yes, I have the Belrene’s authority to do with you as I please. Do you think I should be more lenient with you because of that? Why? Tell me!”
The unhappy young man hung his head and said nothing.
“You show wisdom, Maro, but too late.”
The dancer’s head snapped up. “You will let me dance? Please, it will never happen again. I swear it! Never! You must Believe me.”
“You violated a dancer’s most sacred vow! How could you!”
The dancer grimaced with pain.
“You know this jeopardizes us all. The others will be put at risk because of you.”
“I will dance alone,” he mumbled hopelessly.
“I should not let you dance at all!” Charis stared at him a long time. “But it seems I have no choice. If I strike you from the group now it will be weeks before I can ready a replacement, and even one inexperienced dancer is too many. Junoi is just now gaining confidence. If I added another new dancer now…” She sighed. “What am I to do?”
“I could dance alone,” Maro repeated. “I would not endanger anyone.”
“Except yourself.” Charis shook her head. “No, it will be best if the others know nothing about it. You will dance with Belissa and me-we will perform the routine I created for the Festival.”
Marophon nodded and kept his eyes downcast. “Thank you.”
“Thank me later. Go now, before I decide to have you flung down the temple steps instead.”
The dancer hurried away without looking back. Marophon must still be punished, she thought; it would not do for dancers to discover they could violate the most holy vow without serious consequence.
But no, it did not matter. After today it would not matter anymore.
It took longer than Charis anticipated to choose the bulls for the day’s dance. Finding a pitman proved difficult, and getting the bullmaster to take her orders seriously even more so. But Charis persisted; she demanded, cajoled, and invoked the Belrene’s authority several times more than she would have liked and in the end succeeded.
She walked through the subterranean chambers, pausing before each stall, peering through the dark lattice as the pitman held his smudgy torch. Each beast regarded her with a docile disinterest which might have deceived a less-experienced appraiser but did not mislead Charis for a moment. She knew most of the animals and had only to glance at the wear of horns and hoofs, condition of the hide, size of hump and hindquarters, the set of the eyes to form an accurate opinion of an unfamiliar beast’s likely behavior in the ring.
After looking at a dozen or more and choosing four which she was sure would allow her bull dancers solid yet spirited performances, Charis found herself unable to find the right bull for her own final performance. One after another, she appraised and rejected each animal until, time running out, she forced herself to make a choice, reminding herself that there was not a bull among them that she could not handle with ease.
The last bull she looked at was a huge red beast she had not seen before. “What of this one?” she asked as the pitman leaned against the heavy iron lattice.
“Oh, ah! Umm,” said the pitman cryptically, screwing up his face in an odd contortion Charis took to approximate a knowing wink. “He is a new one. From the west country, from Mykenea he is.”
“Is he trained to the ring?”
“Oh, ah, yes. Small rings mostly-but aren’t they all?- although we, ah, have it that he was a season at King Mu-saeus’ ring at Argos.”
Charis examined the animal closely. A bull unaccustomed to a large, noisy ring could well be trouble. But an unknown red-his appearance would give the crowd a thrill appropriate for her last performance.
“We, ah, received another from Mykenea. Do you want to see it?”
“No,” replied Charis firmly. “This one will do. I want him last.”
They returned to the bullmaster, who was giving his pitmen instructions about the animals to be readied for the day’s per- formance. “These are my choices for the Gulls,” Charis told him, relating the bulls she had chosen in the proper order. “And the new one-it is to be last. I want it for myself.”
“As you wish,” replied the bullmaster, recording her instructions. “It will be done.”
Charis left the pit and hurried to the ring. Her Gulls would be nearly finished with their exercises and she had not yet begun. At the ring she passed through the dancer’s ready room and pulled off her shift, replacing it with a short, Belted tunic. Still winding the Belt around her waist, she stepped out into the ring. Several other teams were limbering up as well. The Gulls had finished their exercises and were practicing jumps with the wooden standards. Charis began stretching, slowly, gently, pulling the tightness out of her back and legs, all the while watching her dancers with a trainer’s critical eye.
“Knees together, Peronn!” she called, coming across the sand to where they stood. “And keep your chin tucked in. Feel the curve of your spine. Now try it again.” She turned to the others. “Belissa, Galai, Kalili, Junoi-everyone. I want to see seven perfect doubles.”