i s l e o f t h e m o o n

Chapter 24
Trial Begins on the Isle of the Moon

Cybele had no idea how to best investigate Annia's death. It was clearly murder. The young girl's throat had been slit from ear to ear, and in the grass surrounding Cerridwen's Ring, there were traces of the child's dried blood. But how to prove who was responsible? And even if the murderer could be exposed, how to decide their punishment when the Isle was so divided? Even to form a panel to look at the evidence was an impossible task, for Cybele had no idea which of the Priestesses followed Cerridwen and which followed her own more moderate path.

She could not even safely choose Priests for the task, as many of the Priests would use the opportunity to do whatever damage they could to the Goddess's reputation in any aspect. Attis suggested a committee of laywomen. Cybele felt uneasy about this, as laywomen were regarded on the whole as failed Priestesses, despite the fact that it was a deliberate choice for many to founder in the Trials of Ceres. In the end, they compromised. They called together a panel of laywomen and Cybele's most trusted Priests and Priestesses.

Attis and Cybele led the committee. The Priestess Ria had been as a mother to Cybele and many of the other Novices. She was wise, and near to the time of becoming an Old One, when her flux ceased and she would don the rich purple robes and gold crescent. Dreeana had been Cybele's friend since childhood. She had entered the Temple three years before Cybele, and become a full Priestess on the very same night that Cybele had gone from being a mere Novice to Chosen One.

Attis, as Consort, was still considered to be Priest, but to balance the panel, they felt the need of another as well from the Temple of Priapus. Thomias was out of the question. He may have become suspicious that Cybele knew of his plan to overthrow the rule of the Goddess when he was overlooked for the panel, but he was not yet secure enough in his following to challenge Cybele openly. Cybele knew few other Priests, but Attis suggested Oannes.

Oannes was a wily one, sly and crafty. In a way, though, he seemed to be so openly untrustworthy that Cybele felt able to trust him. He was unlikely to follow any cause but his own, and that was little threat to the security of the Isle. His cause largely involved bedding as many young dairyhands and Novices as was humanly possible. There were four laywomen, to make a total of nine. They were: Bron, Cybele's personal cook; Galatia, head keeper of the dairy; Melissa, the apiarist; and Jai, who had left the Hall of Novices at the same time as Cybele, and quickly escaped Temple life for that of the Bakery.

The nine had supervised the exhumation of Annia's body from its shallow grave beneath the peach tree. There could be do doubt that the death was deliberate, and the burial intended to be discovered. They had unwrapped the shroud in which she had been hurriedly buried, and each checked her body closely. She was naked, and completely drained of blood. Her mousy hair had been cropped close to her head, and her eyes put out. Her belly had been slit open and her tiny womb cut out and put in her mouth. Several of those present had become ill at the sight of the injuries on the pathetic little body.

Cybele told herself over and over that they were probably inflicted after death. Even though Jenna was not on the panel, she was present when the body was taken up. As the most experienced physician on the Isle, Cybele could hardly refuse her access to the child. In a way, Cybele was glad of her enemy's presence, for the Healer confirmed that the injuries did appear to have been caused some time after death. Annia had apparently died quickly from the slit throat. The most horrifying thing, though, was that she had died no more than two days ago. Her body had barely even started to decay, despite the warm Summer weather. This meant that she had been kept prisoner somewhere for nearly a half-moon, probably enduring hardship, fear and suffering.

Cybele welled with fury against Cerridwen and her unknown followers. At least it explained why, even though there was dried blood now on the grass in Cerridwen's Ring, she and Attis had found no trace of violence in their many searches for Annia in the forest. But if only they had looked for her more thoroughly. When they had searched, she had been alive somewhere, and they had missed her, and now she was dead. Cybele simply could not understand how this was possible. She and Attis had searched the entire Isle from coast to cliff.

Perhaps someone had used a charm, a spell of some sort, to make Annia invisible to them. She did not dabble in magick herself, but she had seen enough evidence of it to believe that it could be effective. Ria and Dreeana had led all present in a prayer to the Goddess to release Annia from suffering and walking the earth, as those who die a violent death are prone to do. They had buried her in the graveyard beside the Green. Her tiny grave was dug next to Arithea's. It was a poignant reminder to Cybele that there was more than one unsolved murder at hand. At least Arithea had died a sudden, clean death, and not been used in some bloody orgiastic ritual.

Cybele was stunned that there was anyone on the Isle who could commit such a gruesome feat. She could not even imagine her most sworn enemies, Jenna and Thomias, doing such a thing. Even the Old Ones, who were rumoured to be sympathetic to the Crone aspect of the Goddess, seemed not to have the lust for blood that would be needed to mutilate a child's body in this way. There was so much that Cybele did not understand, and conflict seemed to be simmering just below the surface of the tranquil daily life of the Isle. There had been no open violence on the Isle of the Moon for generations, since the last time Cerridwen tried to assert herself fifty years ago next Spring.

Followers of the last Cybele had battled with the Crone's supporters when they had tried to take her newborn child as sacrifice. Her hut had been razed, and she had been hunted by a murderous pack while the blood still spilt from her womb. She had escaped the Isle in a boat with her babe, but did not survive to know that her supporters had won the struggle after days of raging bloodshed.

The babe had only discovered her heritage as an adult, and was never able to return to take her rightful place as Chosen One. Her own child, Attis, had returned to the Isle on her death, and now acted as Consort to another Cybele. If not for the accident of his gender, it would have been likely that he would have been Chosen One himself.

Attis had little understood why he had been born with the mark of Ceres, until he was suddenly thrust into the role of Consort to the Chosen One. The Goddess had then began to gradually reveal to him her intention. This Cybele was his mother's mother returned, and he was to provide her with the seed to make the Goddess's true preserver.

These deaths, though, were a serious threat to the benevolent Goddess's path. It was the face of the Crone, Cerridwen, which was wreaking havoc on the Isle, and taking the lives of innocents. Ioin, Arithea, and now Annia.

Annia, little Annia. She had been such a gentle and clever child. Thrust unwillingly into an early Initiation, then allowed to quietly resume the mantle of a Novice by Cybele. Perhaps this had truly been the reason for her death, thought Cybele. She had first sought motive with the new God's followers, as it was on a mission against them that the child had disappeared. In all fairness, though, Jenna seemed to be just as shocked by the death as Cybele herself. And nomatter what the Healer would admit, Cybele was sure that she followed the God with no name.

The more the investigation of Annia's death progressed, the more complicated it became. After three full days and nights of the group scouring every pebble on the Isle, and interviewing every person who had seen the girl on the day of her disappearance, they seemed to be progressing little. It was the eve of the New Moon, and Cybele and Attis had to adjourn the panel until the ceremonies were over.

They had another reason also. They needed to prepare for their planned confrontation with Jenna and Thomias that evening. They intended to call Cabirius and Kelle as witness against their captors in front of the collected throng in the Temple. Cabirius had recovered some of his voice, and Kelle could speak almost fully. She had gone alone to visit him for the past three nights, taking him his food and water while Attis and Cybele were bound for all waking hours with the rest of the investigating panel.

On the eve of the New Moon, Kelle had led Cabirius from his prison to the hut of the Chosen One. It was now too late, they figured, for Jenna and Thomias to act against Cybele. When Thomias discovered Cabirius flown from his coop, there would be little that he could do. Kelle had told Cabirius of the conception. He had at first not believed it possible - he had been very ill, and it had only been a few days since they had coupled, how could she yet be sure? But she insisted that she knew, that she could feel his seed already growing within her womb. He held her as tightly as his wasted arms were able, and tears of joy streamed down both their faces.

"He will be called Maenwyn," Cabirius announced to her in his still-hoarse whisper.

"He?" Kelle asked.

"I can feel it!" Cabirius laughed, with his hand on her belly. "He already feels to be more of a man than I!"

She laughed also, and rolled him onto Cybele's bed. He pulled back, as though concerned she may be injured by even the most minor horseplay. She pinched him sharply. "I am not yet so fragile!" she scolded him, and roughly kissed and bit his throat. Cabirius lay on his side beside her and propped his head on one hand. He looked at her with an intense seriousness.

"You have truly forgiven me?" he asked in his broken whisper.

"There was nothing to forgive," she assured him. "I remember only that I was as willing as you, and as violent. Did you not bear more wounds than me? I knew that you were hurting and angry, and in my passion for you I was ready to help you purge that anger. Do you not remember that I was as pleasured as you?"

He stroked her ruddy soft cheek with his rough hand. "And what feel you for me now? I would no longer inspire a Novice's passion," he said.

"I love you, Cabirius. Not the silly infatuation I had as your student, but the love of a woman for a man."

"That sounds not of the Temple," he said, in a light-hearted warning. He knew that she had never had any intention of entering the Temple, and wanted to become a layperson and Healer.

"I know," she replied. "And I know that you are Priest, and must serve the Temple. But let me keep my dream for a short while, Cabirius."

He stroked her long dark hair. "Think you I do not share the same dream?" he asked.

"Well, could you not ask to be released from the Temple of Priapus? Could we not live as man and woman together, to raise our child as it is said they do on the Mainland?

"I want nothing more than to be with you, Kelle, but I know that Cybele needs me as Priest. The Goddess is dying, and if I of all people follow the way of the new God and take you as wife, it could be the final blow. I could not live with that responsibility. I know that I was born to help Cybele and Attis restore the rule of the Goddess."

"I understand, Cabirius. Do not worry that I may resent your loyalty to them. I admire it. I am just a little jealous, is all. I know that you cannot give me yourself completely, and I know that my child will be taken at birth to be raised by the Temple, in the Hall of Kore. But just let me know that you wish to give me as much of yourself as is permitted," she said.

"You have that much already," he told her, then kissed her softly. His stubbled chin grazed a red mark on her own tender skin, and she pulled him nearer and kissed him firmly. She then rolled to her back and he pulled open the neck of her gown. His hair had not been cut in all of his long confinement, and his dark curls hung down over his face and tickled her skin as her kissed her round breast. She closed her eyes and stroked his head as he suckled her like a babe. A tear slipped across her cheek as she imagined their own child suckling on her breast, only to be taken away to a wet- nurse by the Temple.

"Do you think that the ways of the Isle will ever change?" she asked him tenderly.

"They are already changing," he answered, "and will need to change even more if Ceres is to survive against the ways of the nameless God."

"It is up to Cybele, how these things change?" she asked.

"Yes, I suppose so, and up to all others as well. Loyalty must be given freely, not taken by force. She will need to consider well the politics which will best ensure the future for the Goddess."

"Will you become her counsel again, now that you are well?"

"If she seeks it. She has acted wisely so far, in stopping the flow of children from the Mainland. The Isle of the Moon can never return to what it was. The people are no longer accepting of complete domination by the Temple, and seek a more moderate path. If our Goddess cannot give it to them, they will look to the God."

"Think you..." Kelle started, but then shook her head in dismay.

"What pains you, my love?" he asked, then realised. "Our child. You want to raise him yourself."

She nodded, and her tears flowed freely.

He kissed them away. "I will discuss it with Cybele. It may well be time to close the Hall of Kore, anyways."

"Do you think so?" she asked, barely able to contain her tense hope. He climbed from the bed and bolted both the doors to the hut, then stripped off his gown. Kelle had not seen him naked since his captivity, and his body was racked by the suffering he had endured. He still had a noble and tall frame, though, despite the lack of flesh covering his bones. His skin was pale and taut, and his soft dark hair curled onto his shoulders. The most changed thing about him from the Cabirius she had formerly known, though, was his smile. He had never really smiled at her before, and now he watched her with a glowing warmth that she could actually feel. It was a change that overshadowed the hollowness of his cheeks and chest. He seemed more beautiful to her than ever. No longer the perfect young Teacher, but a man whose suffering had given him an entrancing vulnerability.

His phallus had somehow not suffered from his confinement. It stood now strong and stiff, still rising toward his belly. By the light of the lamps, it seemed larger than ever - perhaps his sunken belly and thin thighs simply made it appear so. Nomatter what the reason, it was a thing of intense beauty.

Kelle was filled with a sudden understanding of the reason for worship of Priapus. A phallus could be such a beautiful and powerful thing. Kelle felt in the pocket of her gown, and produced a small pot of salve.

"What is that?" Cabirius asked, in mock apprehension.

"I think you may like it," she suggested, and placed a smeared finger in his mouth. "Melissa, the beekeeper, gave it me for my voice, and I think it has helped." It tasted of honey and butter, and was soothing to his raw throat. He sucked it from her finger hungrily, then put his own fingers into the pot and smeared it onto her nipple. It was thick and sticky, but quickly melted with the heat of her skin and his tongue as he licked it off.

"You are right. I am beginning to feel better already," he growled, nipping at her belly. He continued to smear the paste onto her body, licking her clean as he progressed lower and lower. She could feel his hot breath tickling the downy hair between her legs, and she ridged up against him in pleasure. She briefly thought that this was not the same Cabirius with whom she had coupled twice so long ago. He was sensitive to her pleasure and tender, yet still driven and passionate. She then thought that even in their earlier violent couplings, perhaps she had detected the potential for sensuality that made him so exceptional.

It was as though he could surrender himself to his senses in a way that she had only ever known with other women. Kelle had been with many lovers of both sexes, but none had ever held her attention in the way of Cabirius. If she had thought of anything or anyone in the long dreamlike stupour of these past two seasons, it had been him. His big strong hands, his violent passion, even the way that he had spilt quite quickly without waiting for her to peak had had its own charm. He seemed determined now to make amends for his previous urgency. He was in no hurry at all to spill. In fact, if not for his solid erection jutting into her leg, she could have thought that he acted only for her own pleasure now, as he licked and sucked the bee-balm from her innermost creases.

His soft curls brushed against her belly, sending an intense thrill through her entire body, then he bit hard into her tender swelling as he gently slid his thumb into her. She gasped sharply, and thrust herself up against him. She clutched his hair with both her hands, and made it clear that she did not wish him to stop. He suckled on her ferociously, and she writhed and moaned like a wild beast. Finally, her back arched and she pulled his head hard against her as she peaked with a gasp and whimper. As her twitching muscles slowly relaxed, he continued to nuzzle into her and kissed her more tenderly on the thighs and belly.

She pulled him up to kiss her on the mouth. She could taste herself on his lips, along with his own unsatiated hunger. He kissed her deeply, and she could feel his throbbing Herm-hard erection nudging into her. She was still dripping with his saliva, and his huge phallus slipped readily into her. She reached down and squeezed its base as he entered her. He thrust into her with a stamina that seemed beyond his physical capability. Passion had lent him far more strength than should have been possible.

She could feel the heat from his erection almost burning her skin. It was a deep reddish-purple, and seemed ready to burst. He had held from spilling for a deliciously long time, and she knew that she would easily be able to peak again when he was ready. She listened for his breathing to change, then let herself surrender to the ebb and flow of the passion swelling through her body. As he started to spill he moaned her name, and Kelle held his pulsing erection up against her, to best rub her own swelling. With this extra stimulation, she peaked within a few heartbeats, before he had even slowed his rhythm. He whispered her name over and over, then fell against her and embraced her so closely that their bodies felt as one.

After they had lain together thus tangled for some time, there was a soft call at the door. It was the owner of the hut, Cybele. Cabirius leaped from the bed, and pulled on his robe.

"She minds not," Kelle told him with a smile. "She took me to you in the prison, and wished me every happiness with you. She loves Attis now."

"I know that well enough, Kelle, but still I feel strange to use her bed."

"Ah, I had forgotten that you had coupled with her here yourself so many times. But that was long ago, my love," Kelle said, pulling on her own gown.

She then called to Cybele in reply. "We will be there in a heartbeat."

Cabirius sat at the table and Kelle opened the door to admit Cybele and Attis. "You seem much improved, my friend," said Attis to Cabirius in warm sincerity.

"I feel much improved, thanks be to Melissa's bee-balm and a tender nurse," he answered, smiling at Kelle.

"I am much pleased that you both progress so rapidly," said Cybele, "but there are important matters afoot. Tonight is the New Moon ceremony, and we need to be sure that we deal with the issues as best as possible. Have any of you a suggestion as to how we act in this matter?"

Cabirius understood well her seriousness. There had been three murders now unsolved on the Isle, and the way in which Jenna and Thomias were accused of kidnapping he and Kelle could have a bearing on the way in which the murder investigation progressed. It would be very easy for the true murderer to see them as potential scapegoats once they stood accused of crimes against Cybele's allies. "

We must make it very clear to all that we could easily have been killed by Thomias and Jenna if they were capable of such a thing," Cabirius suggested.

"But who will believe that they had nothing to do with the murder of the very messenger we sent to reach Kelle?" Cybele asked anxiously.

"It would look bad for them, I agree. But we are all convinced that they were not responsible for Annia's death. Why? We must find how we four came to that conclusion, so that we may explain it to others," he answered.

"The Healer seemed genuinely shocked when we unwrapped Annia's body," Attis suggested.

"But neither Kelle nor I was present then. And we still are convinced that it was not their hand," Cabirius countered.

"It was clearly the work of Cerridwen's followers, and we know that Thomias and Jenna follow the cause of the new God," Kelle said.

"But they would not admit to follow the nameless God, even if it cleared them of murder," Cabirius said, shaking his head. "To do so openly would mean certain banishment from the Isle."

"Their banishment would certainly benefit the Goddess," Attis noted, "so perhaps we could force them to make an admission."

Cybele shook her head. "I think that the other conflict is of more danger to us. Cerridwen the Crone will stop at nothing to assert herself, and she would gladly use the opportunity to remove another obstacle from her path."

"How far do you believe Cerridwen's followers would go?" Kelle asked.

"They have gone as far as war in the past," Cybele cautioned. "Death is food to the Crone, and destruction is her passion. She would not care if she consumed all humankind in her ascension, for she is just as pleased with the lives and deaths of other creatures. If the raven and the wolf took our place, she would have more of what she craves than we give her in our moderate worship."

They were interrupted by a rap on the door. "Who is it?" asked Cybele impatiently.

"It is I, Bron, O Chosen One," said her cook. The sun was high and it was time for dinner. "Then enter," Cybele answered. The laywoman brought in a steaming dish of seasoned vegetables, cheese and a fresh warm loaf of new bread. There was enough for them all, as Bron was well used to the Chosen One having house guests of late. A cook must be able to hold her tongue, as well as being able to be trusted against treachery. Poison was, after all, the safest way of committing murder. It was for this reason that Bron had been Cybele's first choice for lay member of the panel into Annia's death. She was more loyal even than any Priestess. Bron placed the food on the table, bent her head to them in respect, then took her leave.

The four of them sat down to break bread and share the meal. As they ate, there was another knock on the door. Perhaps Bron returned with some wine.

"Enter," Cybele said between bites. The door opened sheepishly, and an unexpected visitor entered. Jenna. Cybele rose to her feet in anger. "What is the meaning of this? Have you come for your prisoners?" she demanded.

Jenna maintained her composure. "No, your Holiness. I have come to you with a proposition."

Attis rose to his feet. "I have no stomach for politics," he announced simply. "Does anyone wish to join me in the fresh air by the sea?"

"I shall stay," Cabirius growled, glaring at his former captor as she stood beside the open garden door. Her surprise that he could speak was obvious, and he wondered if it meant that she was trying to calculate a change to her proposition because of it.

"I have no wish to hear her," said Kelle. "I have heard more than enough of that voice to last me a lifetime." She arose from the table and went to the outer door with Attis. As they left, they heard Cybele address the Healer.

"This had better be good," she said bitterly.

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