Amazon Moon by James A. Haught Page A

village:
    "Many years ago, Arab slave traders purchased thirty Greek women in Thessaloniki and marched them eastward in a caravan along the Black Sea, heading for the slave markets of Arabia. The women were tied together by leather thongs around their necks. Each night on the trek, the traders pitched tents, built fires, fed themselves and their human merchandise, and posted guards. Then they stripped a few women naked and untied them to be their bedmates.
    "During the days of marching, the women conspired furtively in whispers, plotting escape. On the fateful night, shapely women enticed the guards by baring their breasts. As each guard lowered his weapons and seized the seemingly eager female, he was clubbed from behind by a lurking woman and killed with his own dagger. Thus armed, the escapers cut off their neck straps and burst into tents, dispatching other slavers who were distracted in the midst of sex. A few Arabs resisted briefly before they were subdued. At the end, two women slaves had been killed and all the traders.
    "In the darkness, the surviving women took everything in the caravan—tents, wagons, food, horses, weapons—and fled up the Thermodon Valley. During daylight they hid in forest and discussed how they might survive as fugitives. They made a pact to bond together as sisters to resist recapture. Each stood and pledged aloud to fight for the group. Even death, they agreed, would be better than returning to slavery.
    "In the distance they saw a small farming village. They dressed a young woman as a boy and sent her to reconnoiter. In a cottage at a fringe of the town, the spy found an old widow living alone, tending her vegetable garden, her only means of sustenance. The widow was amazed to encounter a girl traveling freely like a man. As they talked, it became clear that the woman resented the helplessness imposed on females. So the girl revealed that a band of runaway women waited in the forest. She asked for guidance.
    "The widow pondered, then offered a wonderful suggestion: A half-day farther up the Thermodon, she said, in a side-valley overgrown by brush, lies a former farm village that was abandoned after plague swept its inhabitants. As families sickened and died, the village priest had offered many sacrifices to appease the gods, until the community's livestock was gone. Then he sacrificed a child in a futile attempt to end the divine wrath. Finally he proclaimed that gods had cursed the valley, and he led survivors in fleeing the blighted spot. Nobody knows where they went or whether they managed to stay alive.
    "The widow's tale gave the fugitives hope. When night fell, they proceeded up the Thermodon and found the side-valley. After daybreak, with nobody in sight, they crept through the thorny foliage until they emerged at the abandoned village. Its buildings were in disrepair, but its grape arbor and olive and fig groves still thrived. They ate the awaiting fruit and began restoring the structures. Enough seeds remained in a barn to replant fallow fields and gardens. They dammed the creek, making a bathing pool. They watered the thorn thicket and planted new shoots, creating a green barrier that concealed their presence.
    "Thereafter, the women occasionally sent spies at night to visit the widow who had steered them to their hideout. She kept their secret. Eventually she became the first covert station in a network of such clandestine homes that guided runaway women to the sanctuary. It was decided that volunteers in the network would hang two pots of vines together on the sides of their homes as a secret sign to fugitives.
    "Also, women in the hidden community sent horseback spies dressed as men to watch from high ground along the Black Sea, to spot approaching caravans. Upon seeing one, a lookout would gallop back to inform the colony, and the strongest women would arm themselves for a raid. Caravans were struck at midnight when most men were asleep. If any slave women or concubines were in