Amazon Moon by James A. Haught

afternoons, you will be scribe and teacher."
    The War Queen added:
    "When you teach, remember that you are a slave. Address each student as 'my lady.' Do not show arrogance toward your pupils or you will regret it."
    I replied that lengthy preparations would be needed: I must make parchment from the sheep flock grazing in hills above the village. And I must make ink and reed pens. They consulted each other and said they remembered such supplies among booty from caravan raids, including my own materials from Commander Malgon's troop. They led me to a storage shed. There was my leather bottle of ink, two pens, and sheets of papyrus. Even better, a trove of caravan loot contained a stoppered gourd of lampblack, ready to mix with gum tree sap to make ink, plus a treasure: fifty perfect sheets of the finest parchment I had seen.
    They assigned me to a room near the Home Queen's bedroom.
    "When your day duties end, you won't have far to travel for your night work," Hella said with a grin.
    I arranged benches and set up a classroom. On twenty-four sheets of papyrus, I inked large images of letters of the alphabet: alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, zeta, eta, theta, iota, kappa, lambda, mu, nu, xi, omicron, pi, rho, sigma, tau, upsilon, phi, chi, psi, omega. With thorns from a honey locust, I pinned the sheets across the front wall. My learning room was just like the one attended by apprentices of the high scribe of Kavopolis.
    Soon I began teaching clusters of pupils: girls as young as six and women beyond thirty. As the assistants in my former scribe school had done, I pointed to each letter, using my cane, and the pupils repeated the names aloud, childish chirps mingling with adult female voices. They memorized the letters and we held competitions in reciting the alphabet. Next they learned how letter sounds combine in words.
    Then I taught them penmanship. I showed them how to cut reeds at the proper slant to make writing tips, how to squeeze and release them in the inkpots so they filled properly, and how to hold them with correct pressure to emit just the right amount of ink without making ugly blots. Soon my trainees could write letters, words and sentences on papyrus, then read aloud from their work. It impressed me that women and girls learned just as fast as we male apprentices had done at the scribe school. I looked at them with newfound respect.
    The Slavic sisters, Litha and Mitha, came to my class intermittently. Their golden-tan hair stood out in the room of black heads. I felt drawn to Litha's lovely face. Amid the group, I could not keep my eyes off her. After a session, I waited by the door and asked her why they missed some lessons.
    "I spend many days at the shepherd cottage on the hill, watching the flock," she said. "And Mitha often is assigned to sentry duty above the cliff at the entrance of the valley, when her warrior training sessions are over."
    I had another question, but wasn't sure I could ask it. Finally I said:
    "My lady, some women of the village order me to their beds at night. I wish that you—"
    She flushed deep red.
    "I am still a novice among the Amazons," she stammered. "I cannot give commands."
    Then she blurted apologetically: "I am a novice in bed too."
    We looked at each other, feeling a deep bond between us.
     

11
    Eventually I was ordered to begin writing the Amazon history. I was called before the two queens and the village council. The War Queen began:
    "I am the senior member of this village. I was born here forty-two years ago, daughter of the warrior Estia, who was killed in fighting along the Black Sea shore when I was ten. From her and other older women, I learned our story, which I have related many times."
    I begged Saria to speak slowly as I scribbled hasty notes on papyrus. Later, alone in my teaching room, I carefully inked her account onto parchment, then read it back to the council at our next meeting. Herewith is the War Queen's tale of the origin of the Amazon