Cybele's Secret - Juliet Marillier - Cybele's Secret

“Not today,” I said, leaning back on my elbows and narrowing my eyes against the sun. “Everyone’s heard it a hundred times before. And it’s over; all I want to do now is forget.”

In the silence that ensued, I felt Jena’s eyes on me. I knew that she, of all the family, understood how much the season of Cybele’s Gift had changed me.

“Stela,” said Iulia, “will you go down to the kitchen and ask Florica for another bottle of her elderberry wine? And maybe some more cheese…Rǎzvan’s sure to be starving when they finish running around.”

Stela’s expression told me she knew this was a ploy to get her out of the way, but she went without question, dark hair streaming behind her as she ran across the hillside to the stile. The grass under her feet was dotted with wildflowers, blue, purple, yellow, pink. Down the hill, I could see a cart coming up the track to the castle. The red tassels on the horse’s bridle swung as it moved. On the driver’s seat was Dorin, our man of all work. He and Petru had a big job on hand, something to do with drains. The cart would be loaded with building supplies.

“Paula,” said Jena in a big-sisterly voice, “we’re worried about you.”

“You’re not yourself,” added Iulia. “Florica says you’re only picking at your food these days, and you can’t afford to lose weight. You’re skin and bone already.” She herself was a shapely woman, the delight of her husband’s eye, and had been telling me for years I was too thin.

“Worse than that,” put in Jena, “Father says you haven’t even been reading much lately. Or at least not the way you used to, as if you could never get enough of books and learning. If I didn’t know you better, I would say you’re exhibiting all the signs of having been unlucky in love.”

“You should come and stay with Rǎzvan and me,” Iulia suggested, reaching out to grab Mirela’s smock before the child could grasp a bee that had caught her interest. “It would take your mind off things.”

“What things?” I could hear the growl in my voice. I did not want to talk about it, not even to my sisters. I’d been doing my best to forget, to pick up the threads of my old life, helping Father, teaching Stela, making myself useful around house and farm. It was just unfortunate that I wasn’t better at hiding how unhappy I was.

“Come on, Paula,” Jena said. “We’re your sisters. We’re here to help. There’s a part of this story you’ve held back, Iulia and I are certain of it. You need to talk about it sometime, get it off your chest.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Anyway, it’s much too late now.”

Down the hill, Dorin had driven into the courtyard, and Petru’s farm dogs were going crazy. The frenzy of barking went far beyond the greeting they usually provided when someone came home.

“Paula.” Jena’s tone was stern. “You can’t fool us. Before you went to Istanbul, you were bubbling with plans for the future. You were so confident and hopeful. You convinced all of us that you’d achieve your dream one day. That’s all changed since you came back. You seem…adrift. Not simply unhappy, but unsure of yourself. And yet you had such adventures during that trip. You were tested to the limit. That was terrifying, I know, but wonderful, too. To go back to the Other Kingdom, to see Tati again…” I could hear the longing in my sister’s voice. “And to be given such an important task, a quest of your own…You’ve told the story pretty modestly, I suspect. It sounds as if you had to call upon all your reserves of courage and intelligence to get through it. I can’t understand how you’ve lost faith in yourself.”

“Unrequited love,” said Iulia. “It’s written all over you. Come and spend the summer at our place, and we’ll introduce you to any number of suitable men. In a pinch, I may even find one or two who like books.”

The noise from below had not abated. I was trying to think of a reply when Stela came sprinting back across the field, babbling something that did not become clear until she arrived in our midst. “Paula! There’s something for you! Dorin brought it, a…a delivery. Come now! You have to see this!”

“A delivery?” I tried to remember if I had ordered anything, books maybe or some household supplies that might have been packaged under my name rather than Father’s. “Can’t Dorin deal with it? I’ll come down later.”

“No!” Stela was beside herself with excitement. “You have to come!” She grabbed my arm and hauled me up, tugging me after her in the general direction of the house. With a grimace at my elder sisters, I followed.

In the courtyard, Dorin was unloading the supplies. The farm dogs were clustered around the front door, barking hysterically.

“What’s wrong?” I shouted.

“In there,” Dorin yelled, pointing to the doorway.

The dogs did not follow me inside; they were well trained. Their raucous challenge died down behind me as I walked along the red-tiled passageway to the kitchen. I went in to find a crate in the middle of the floor and our farmer, Petru, crouched down beside it, peering through a narrow opening in the top. His wife, our housekeeper, Florica, stood by the stove, lips pursed, eyes thoughtful.

“Apparently it’s for you,” she said dryly, glancing at me.

“Look, Paula!” Stela was already by Petru’s side, poking her fingers between the slats of the crate. “Petru, can we take the top off? He’s probably been in there all day, the poor thing….”

The flood of words abated as I moved closer, and Petru edged aside to make room for me. I peered into the crate. Through the opening, a pair of soft, expressive eyes gazed up at me. There was a low growling, a sound I interpreted as a token challenge. My heart was doing a dance. I had never really believed in tears of joy, but those were what seemed to be welling in my eyes right now.

“Open that and the creature’ll take your finger off,” said Florica. “It’s huge. That’s the last thing I’d be expecting you to want, Paula. A crate of books, now, or a box of paper and pens, but not a dog.”

“It’s a gift,” Stela said importantly. “Not something Paula ordered for herself, something someone’s sent her. Open it up, Paula. Maybe it’s from that pirate. He sounded as if he liked you. Perhaps he’s right here in the valley!”

Her words flowed over me as I borrowed Petru’s knife and prized off the side slats of the crate. The dog emerged, at first not entirely steady on his legs. He sniffed at my skirt, looked around, then ambled over to relieve himself against the wall. “I’ll clean up,” I said hastily.

I could see the message on Florica’s face: No dogs inside the house. Before she could say a word, Petru snapped his fingers to bring the animal close—I noticed how ready it was to obey—then ran his gnarled hands over its noble head, its straight, strong back, its extremely large feet.

“A handsome creature,” he observed. “Only half grown; I’d say he’s six months at the most. He’s going to be a fine big dog.” The animal was already larger than our adult herding dogs. “Unusual gift for a young lady.” Petru glanced at me, eyes shrewd. “I’ve never seen this breed before. Foreign, is it?”

“It’s called a Bugarski Goran,” I said absently as I hunted inside the crate for a note or message. “A special kind of mountain dog known for its strength, heart, and loyalty. Generally they’re treated as members of the family. That’s after they’re trained, I suppose,” I added hastily, feeling Florica’s skeptical gaze on me.

“So, is it from him?” Stela asked, giving the very big puppy a hug and receiving a slobbery kiss in return. “From your pirate? It is, isn’t it? I bet I’m right!”