Page 14 of Circle of Days

Roni looked ready to run away, but Vee said to her: “Come on, we can’t desert Joia.”

The priestesses marched Joia and Han toward the village, and Vee and Roni followed. Joia felt helpless and fearful. No one knew where they were. Anything could happen and their families would never know.

They reached the village and were pushed into one of the small houses.

Inside, the High Priestess sat on a leather mat in the middle of the floor.

Seeing her close up for the first time, Joia noticed her piercing blue eyes.

Joia had never met a woman that old. She recalled her mother saying that priestesses lived longer than other women because they did not bear children.

Ello sat down next to Soo. Joia had the impression that the two of them dwelt together in this house.

The other two priestesses stood outside. There was no escape.

Joia felt she had to say something in her defense. “I only…” Her throat seemed constricted and her voice trembled. She tried again. “I only wanted to know how you can tell the number of days left until midsummer, or midwinter.”

Soo looked at her dispassionately. “So you’re the ringleader.”

Joia felt she was justly accused. She nodded miserably.

Soo said: “The rest of you, go home.”

They hesitated, as if they could not quite believe it. Soo nodded to Ello, who got up and escorted Vee, Roni, and Han out. Ello did not come back.

Joia was glad her little brother was being freed, but clearly she herself had been singled out for special punishment, and she wondered fearfully what form it would take.

But first Soo asked her a question. “Did you notice how many upright posts there are in the outer wooden circle?”

As it happened, Joia had counted them. She answered the question by holding out both hands, pointing to both feet, and holding out both hands again.

“Correct,” said Soo. “And that’s how many complete weeks there are in a year. Think how many days that is.”

Joia was baffled. She could not count that high. After hands, feet, wrists, elbows, all the way up to the top of the head, she ran out. “There aren’t enough numbers for so many days,” she protested.

“But there are better ways to count, not using your body.”

Joia was surprised. Everyone who could count indicated numbers by fingers, toes, and other parts of the body; everyone except the woodlanders, who could only say one , a pair , another one , and a lot , which was hardly counting at all. “What other way is there?”

“I’ll show you.” Soo indicated a stack of pottery discs on the floor beside her. Joia had not noticed them before. Now she looked at them and realized they were the discs used in the ritual.

Soo said: “Count these as I lay them down.” She made a line of discs across the floor, and Joia counted from her left thumb across all her fingers to the right thumb.

Next, Soo picked up a disc similar except that it had a line carved across it.

“Imagine,” she said, “that this is worth all the discs in that line.” She put down the marked disc and picked up the plain ones.

“Now we carry on.” She put the plain discs back on the floor one by one as Joia counted them with her toes.

Then Soo again replaced the plain discs with one marked disc.

But as she was repeating the process a third time, Joia touched the top of her head and said: “This is the highest number.”

“With discs, you never run out of numbers. And every number has a name. The first thing novice priestesses have to learn is how to name all the numbers.”

Joia was fascinated and thrilled. “So you can count all the days in the year!”

“Yes. You’re very quick to understand.” Soo seemed to be enjoying this conversation, and Joia dared to hope that she had forgotten the punishment.

Soo scooped up the plain discs and made a new line with the marked discs. Counting them, Joia went from left thumb to right thumb again. Soo then replaced the discs with one that had a cross engraved on its face. “This represents all the ones I picked up.”

“So…” Joia was rapidly taking all this in. “So you could go on counting… forever.”

“Exactly.”

Joia was bowled over. She was seeing the world in a whole new light. These were the secrets of the priestesses. And she was being told them.

Her mind leaped forward. “So when you dance and sing, you’re counting the days and weeks.”

“And marking how many have passed since the last solstice or equinox, and how many are left before the next.”

“And the big stones around the edge?”

“Those help us predict eclipses, which is a lot more complicated.”

“Are all stone circles used this way?”

“Certainly not!” Soo seemed offended and sat upright.

Joia remembered nervously that the question of punishment was not yet resolved.

Soo said: “Every other stone circle I have seen does not have the right number of stones for any useful purpose—they’re just random.

And that goes for wood circles too. Anyway, we priestesses are the only people who know the rituals.

Our Monument is unique, and so is our priestesshood. ”

“And the songs?”

“Also unique.”

Joia frowned thoughtfully. “The wood circle is vulnerable. Timber can rot, or fall down in a gale, or be carried away by thieves. The whole Monument ought to be made of stone, not wood.”

Soo nodded. “You’re so right. And one day it will be.”

Soo was too old to be talking about what might happen “one day,” Joia thought. But she did not comment.

Soo said: “Everything we know about the sun, and the moon, and the days in the year, is in our songs. It’s our holy duty to teach the songs to the next generation, so that the knowledge will never be lost.”

Joia nodded agreement.

Soo said: “You’re the next generation. You must think about becoming a priestess. You’re the perfect age to be a novice.”

This had been a conversation of surprises, but Joia had not expected that . For a moment she was lost for words. Then she said: “But… I spied on you.”

Soo shrugged. “That showed me how interested you are. And in talking to you I’ve discovered that you’re clever too. Even smart people don’t usually understand all this as easily as you.”

Joia struggled to imagine leaving her mother and Neen and Han for a new, completely different life.

She would still see her family: the priestesses were not isolated.

But she would live here, eat and sleep with the priestesses, and sing the songs of the sun and the moon.

She would not be there to stop Han falling in the river, or to help Neen raise her children, or to take care of Mamma when she grew old.

Soo saw her thoughtfulness but guessed wrong about its cause. “You may want to go with boys and have children.”

Joia did not care about that. “I don’t know why they all keep talking about boys and babies,” she said, allowing her irritation to show. “As if that was the only thing that mattered!”

“That’s how I felt at your age.” Soo smiled at the memory, and as she recalled her youth her lined face looked beautiful for a moment. Then she said: “But you must go home and talk to your mother. What’s her name?”

“Ani.”

“The elder?”

“Yes.”

“I know her, of course. She’s a very sensible woman. But she will be reluctant to lose you, especially so young. And she’ll worry that you may not like the life of a priestess as much as you expect.”

Joia nodded. That would be exactly how Ani would react.

Soo went on: “Tell her that the Monument is not a prison. Any priestess can leave anytime she wants to. If you find that you don’t like the life after all, you’ll be able to walk away from it.”

In fact Joia was not worrying about that. The life seemed perfect to her. She was reluctant to end her talk with Soo, but she was now eager to tell her mother all about it.

Soo sensed her restlessness. “It’s time you went home for breakfast.”

“Yes.” Joia realized she was very hungry.

“Think about this, and don’t hurry. We can talk again—and I’ll be glad to speak to Ani, too. Kiss me goodbye.”

Joia bent to kiss Soo’s wrinkled lips. The kiss went on a moment or two longer than she expected. Then Soo said: “You’re a special girl, Joia. I hope you decide to join us. May the Sun God smile on you.”

“And on you, High Priestess,” said Joia.

Ani was furious. “What evil spirit possessed you to do such a thing?” she said. “Your brother was scared out of his wits!” She was cooking sheep’s liver with wild sorrel, and she stirred the pot angrily with a wooden spatula.

This was unusual. She had a round, friendly face framed with gently greying hair. Rage did not suit her.

Joia was sitting on the grass, looking at her warily. “Han wasn’t supposed to be there,” she said. “He just followed us, the little sneak.”

“You shouldn’t have been there either. The priestesses have a right to keep things private if they wish. I hope they gave you a thrashing.”

“No.”

“No? What, then?”

“I had a long talk with High Priestess Soo.”

“Is that all?”

“Mamma, I learned so much! She taught me a new way to count, using discs instead of parts of the body. You can keep counting higher and higher and never stop.”

“Oh.”

“She said I was very quick to understand.”

“Oh, yes, you’ve always been quick. It’s ordinary common sense that you lack.” Ani threw a handful of wild grains into the pot.

“No one was hurt, Mamma. Only Han, a little bit, when Ello grabbed his arm. And that was his own fault.”

“Poor child, he pissed all down his leg. I had to wash him.”

Joia wanted to get her mother off the subject of poor Han. “The priestesses’ songs contain everything we know about the sun and the moon. That’s why they’re so important. They’re the only way we can preserve our knowledge from one generation to the next.”

“Is that so?”

Ani was still cross but she was softening, Joia could tell.

Joia took a deep breath. “That’s why I want to be a priestess.”

At first Ani did not take her seriously. “Well, you’ve got several years to think about it before you’re old enough.”

“Soo said I’m the perfect age to start.”

“That’s ridiculous! You’ve only seen thirteen midsummers!”

“Fourteen.”

“Don’t quibble.”

Joia was frustrated. How could she make her mother understand? “I know what I want!”

“Nobody knows what they want at thirteen. Or fourteen. The High Priestess just wants to get you in her clutches before you get pregnant.”

“I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“I said that at your age, and look at me now, cooking for three disobedient children.”

Joia sighed. “You’re very mean this morning.”

“I’m making you breakfast, aren’t I?”

“I hate liver.”

They were silent for a while, then Joia said: “Soo says you’re wise.”

“Too wise to give her my daughter.”

That angered Joia. “You don’t own me, and neither does she!”

Ani put down her spatula and came to sit by Joia. “Seriously,” she said. “Could you be happy, living with a group of women, repeating the same songs and dances?”

“Yes. I’m quite sure I will like it a lot better than herding cattle or making leather.”

“You know that priestesses aren’t allowed to have children. If you get pregnant, you have to leave.”

“I don’t want children. I never have.”

“Do you realize that many of the priestesses are women who love women?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course not, but are you that type?”

“I don’t know what type I am.”

“All the more reason to delay your decision.”

“I won’t have to stay if I don’t like it. Soo said priestesses can walk away anytime.”

That made Ani think. After a moment she said: “So if you become a priestess—”

“Novice, I suppose.”

“If you become a novice and three weeks later you change your mind, the High Priestess will say: ‘That’s fine, don’t worry, thank you for trying.’ Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I don’t know what she would say, but in any case—”

“I want to know exactly what she would say.”

Joia realized she had moved her mother from No to Perhaps. That was progress. “So you’ll talk to her and ask her?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” said Joia.