Etruscans by Morgan Llywelyn Read Free Book Online

bare
legs. She had already been so injured that she did not feel the lesser wounds. All her concentration was required to put one foot after the other as her mother demanded.
    Looking up, Repana tried to judge time through the dense canopy of oak and elm leaves high above the forest floor. The pursuit might already be underway.
    The woman narrowed her eyes in thought, considering her situation. The Uni Ati had intended to preside over Vesi’s Dying, cocelebrating the event with the purtan. Normally any of the Rasne would have welcomed such an honor. Nothing in the lives of the Silver People was as important as the end of life itself, a highly formalized ritual circumscribed by rites and observances. Families went to the greatest lengths to ensure that a departing member was committed to the care of the ancestors and welcomed by Veno in the Netherworld. The Netherworld was fraught with hazards. Only the powerful Protectress of the Dead could keep a spirit safe there.
    But Repana was not willing to surrender her last surviving child to Veno. Not yet
    While pretending to accede to the Uni Ati’s demand, she had secretly given Vesi a draught of oil of poppy, then put clothes on the girl as the narcotic was taking effect. Working swiftly and silently, Repana had gathered a small bundle of food and herbs and the few essentials they would need to make good their escape. When all was in readiness, she had gone to the door of the house and requested a sacrificial knife. She spoke with pride, as befitted a mother preparing to give her child a great gift.
    The Uni Ati had replied, “You have my knife already,” in a querulous voice that scratched the air like a sliver of glass.
    Repana had bowed her head respectfully. “I return your knife to you, First Mother, and ask that I may have another to use. One which I may keep for myself afterward, as a holy relic of my daughter.”

    Such a request could not be refused. Head wobbling atop her thin neck, Uni Ati nodded agreement. “When we bring a child into the world,” she said, “we grant it the gift of life borne of blood. Now you, Repana, have a final gift of blood to give your daughter. Those whose deaths we make beautiful will reward us when our own time comes; they will be waiting with loving arms outstretched to guide us safely to Veno in the Netherworld.
    â€œGive your daughter her Dying as you choose. We support you and commend you. When she has departed, we will sing songs and hold funeral games in her honor. Great will be our joy at imagining the existence awaiting her with Veno in a nightless land of fruit and music.”
    The assembled people murmured among themselves. Most of the Rasne and not a few of their slaves had children; all wondered if they would have the courage now being required of Repana.
    Without a word, Pepan stepped forward and handed Vesi’s mother a large ebony-handled knife with a curved blade. As her eyes met his he gave a slight but deliberate nod, then silently mouthed the words “glade of stones.”
    With an effort, Repana kept her face impassive. Any reaction on her part could arouse suspicion and she did not wish to have Pepan implicated. She was grateful however. The Lord of the Rasne seemed to be the only one who cared what she was feeling and who was willing to take her side.
    Carrying his knife, she went back inside the house and closed the door, the only door. She and her child were alone together within the windowless walls. It was to be expected that she would want privacy until the mortal wound was delivered. Then she would summon the others and they would form a triumphal procession to carry Vesi to the templum.
    There was no limit on the time allowed for a ritual of Dying. It could take a matter of moments, it could occupy an entire day. There were a hundred ways to make a Dying, from the swift and painless, which was favored
for the very old or the very young, to the most ancient rite in which