Danae

by Laura Gill

  A splash of purple drew my eye toward Polydektes, royal cloak thrown over a corselet of gleaming bronze, arms folded over his breast. Deiphontes, sword in hand, glared at me.

  I stopped halfway between the aithousa and the boundary stones, and stood. “You should be ashamed, all of you, for violating this holy precinct, and wasting innocent lives in pursuit of a single, useless woman!”

  “Princess, you have at last seen reason and graced us with your presence.” Polydektes graciously inclined his head, speaking as calmly as if I had not just publicly upbraided him. “I imagine you are hungry and exhausted after your...confinement.”

  The hint of laughter in his statement only fueled my anger. “Let all here witness that you are a blasphemer and murderer! You are the villain who betrayed my son.” That Eurymedon still lived was a secret I kept to myself. “I am leaving the sanctuary of Zeus’s altar only because I see now that this is the only way to stop the bloodshed. Otherwise, I would have gladly starved myself to—”

  The scene erupted into chaos. Samos, who had been standing beside me, vanished along with Ariston. A stone whizzed past my head, then another and more. Stones clanked against metal—pebbles hitting bronze. Some of the king’s men cried out. Shields went up. As I raised both arms to protect my head, I experienced a sudden wrench backward, followed by a large hand clapped over my mouth. I instinctively bit down, eliciting a howl of pain; the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Whoever it was, released me with a curse.

  This would not do. I started to turn, to rush back to the relative safety of the aithousa, when Polydektes himself seized me, and hustled me to a waiting chariot, where he lashed my wrists together to the guardrail. Tarbos, his hand bleeding, jumped into the chariot to act as a bodyguard. Polydektes snapped the reins and we lurched into motion. He drove like a madman, plowing through the streets of Ganema; he ran down townspeople who tried to stone us, while the chariot’s jolting and bouncing jerked me violently about. Ganema devolved into a riot of looting and fighting. Struggling to keep from vomiting, I noticed from my periphery the king’s warriors running alongside to protect the chariot and clear a pathway.

  The road from Ganema to Livadi was a muddy track littered with boulders from landslides or ambushes; every time we ran over a pothole I steadied myself against the urge to cry out. My teeth rattled, and my arms and the small of my back ached. I tried to shut out the obscene way Tarbos pressed himself against my buttocks, and transport myself somewhere else.

  We drove past fishing villages with burnt-out homes and few signs of human activity. I did not recognize Pelargos. We entered another town where the road was better. Untouched, multistoried houses washed with varying shades of ocher, a marketplace open for business, populated by a blur of curious faces. There were shouted greetings to the king, jeers for me: imposter princess, fishwife, camp follower, widow maker.

  The hostile faces vanished as we climbed the heights, passed through a fortified gate. More color-washed buildings, more fortifications. Men in bronze atop the walls called down salutes. The citadel. We entered a courtyard fronted by imposing buildings. Pillars of scarlet and black and yellow. Polydektes stopped the chariot. Grooms came running out for the horses.

  A knife sliced through my bonds; my wrists ached from the ordeal. Polydektes jerked me from the chariot platform, steadied me when I tottered, and marched me through a door into a dim, narrow passageway. Up a flight of stairs into another corridor, then around a bend. “Move faster,” Polydektes snapped. He forced me to match his longer strides, even though he must have known by then that I would have followed him unresisting. This was deliberate punishment. I should count myself fortunate if grunting and pushing and subjecting me to a grueling chariot ride through a hostile marketplace was all he decided to do.

  A door flanked by sentries opened onto a small room furnished with a cot and chamber pot, and nothing else. There, he roughly unhanded me. “You will have a bath and eat something,” he said. “I will deal with you when I am ready.”

  What did he mean, he would deal with me? I forced down my apprehension and all urges to contemplate the meaning behind that handful of words.

  Shortly, a group of women appeared to lead me to an adjacent room equipped with a terracotta bathtub. I became their plaything to soak and scour. They washed my hair with scented water, rubbed precious oils into my skin while assuring me that if I bathed every day in asses’ milk and stayed indoors I might yet undo the damage that time and weather had wrought. I made no answer, simply sat still as the youngest vigorously toweled my hair dry, and the others brought a clean, plain dress and returned the beads they had removed from around my neck.

  Then another woman came, a priestess in fringes and paint with a blunt purpose. “Princess, you have made certain claims. Now the king must know whether you are indeed a maiden.”

  “Don’t touch me, Priestess.” The young attendant’s comb snagged on my hair as I stood. “What I am or am not is neither your business nor his. I surrendered to keep the peace, but you will not inflict upon me such an indignity.”

  In the war of wills, she did not press the issue, but ordered the women to return me to the other chamber, where a tray of food awaited. Fresh bread and soft cheese, grilled fish, dried figs in honey, and wine, such fare as I had not enjoyed in a long time. Angry with myself that I should have an appetite in captivity, I resisted the temptation until common sense and my rumbling belly prevailed. Whatever it was that Zeus wanted or expected me to accomplish as Polydektes’ captive, that meant keeping up my strength, eating and sleeping. Nonetheless, I wept in silent frustration while choking down each delicious morsel, in stretching out on the cot under combed fleeces that were not rank with hearth smoke or a lack of proper airing.

  Night was hard. Though the door was stout, the sentries made their presence known through mumbled conversation and muffled movements; they must have been as bored as I was. They made no intrusion, either to bring lamps or take the food tray, and made none of the rude comments through the door that, after so long besieged by Deiphontes and his ilk, I had come to anticipate. Even as the night deepened, the waning moon rising high, and the threat of rape ebbing, I did not relax my vigilance. Polydektes, after all, had allowed his chariot companion to grind against me, and I had refused the priestess’s inspection of my maidenhead. Slumber came, nevertheless, and I woke to weak daylight spilling in through the narrow window.

  Breakfast came and went, and I prepared for a solitary day of staring at the wall or gazing at the ramparts opposite the window when the door opened again. Polydektes, royally clad in green and indigo blue, glittering with gems, filled the doorway. Even at a distance, my nose twitched; he smelled like his servants had dumped several amphorae worth of unguent into his bath. Did he imagine himself to be courting again?

  Obviously he expected some comment on his appearance, for after several moments of my silence his face fell. He quickly recovered his smile, albeit a false one, and nodded. “You look much better today, Danaë, and I am told you are eating. I am glad that you are compliant. Your submission allows me to reward you with a state better befitting your royal status.”

  So much verbiage. I, too, could wield false smiles and deceitful intentions, and kept the fact that I had not submitted in any way that truly mattered at the forefront of my mind as I accepted his hand. Polydektes, for his part, did not haul me along as he had in yesterday’s confusion, and made pleasant if inconsequential conversation as we went, but the hard, purposeful way he twined his arm through mine left little doubt as to how much control I had over my compliance.

  The corridors widened. Color appeared on the walls, then frescoes depicting fish and plants in the Cretan style. Checkerboard patterns decorated the floors. Seeing the public spaces of the palace did not reassure me; the last time I had been in such a palace, I had been eight years old, and a part of me half-expected to encounter my father. I kept telling myself that Polydektes was not about to sell me to Acrisius, but he had lied a
nd played so many cruel games I no longer knew what to think.

  Courtiers in rich raiment met us on a staircase to an upper level where the decorations were even richer, and access even more restricted. In a corridor, I glimpsed a harried-looking matron carrying a wriggling, whining child and hustling another into a room where I heard water splashing. I started. What were children doing here? Then I remembered that Polydektes had a number of bastard offspring. Yet he made no comment

  A sentry stood at attention while Polydektes opened a door onto a magnificent suite of rooms adorned with treasures. Once inside, he released me. “Now here is an apartment fit for the daughter of Argos.”

  There were cedar chairs inlaid with ivory and ebony; the fragrance of the precious wood evoked memories of my mother’s apartments, whose splendor matched these rooms. Draperies, cushions, bolsters of scarlet and blue and yellow cunningly worked with embroidered flowers, spirals, keys. In the bedroom, there stood an inlaid bed, and a dressing table laid out with an alabaster cosmetic palette, faience jars, and a jewel casket left open to tantalize with its sparkling contents. I fought to suppress the feelings of loss associated with the absence of my mother. Whatever Polydektes had planned next, I needed my wits about me.

  “Come and look at these treasures.” Polydektes deposited a handful of glittering jewels onto the dressing table. “They are for you.”

  Next, he would insist on decking me out in them. I hesitated. Should I humor his attempt at courtesy? We were alone. There was nothing to prevent him from taking advantage, now that I had submitted. I decided to firmly but quietly stand my ground. “I have no eye for jewels, you know that, Polydektes. There is only thing I want, but you cannot give it to me.”

  He sucked a breath through flared nostrils. “Do not play that game with me, Danaë. Eurymedon acted foolishly.” His sharp tone and the abrupt way he snapped the lid of the jewel box shut strained his cultivated veneer of civility.

  “Because only you are allowed to play games?” I shot back. “Look at you, all perfumed and courteous!”

  “Look at you, mule-headed and disagreeable!” Polydektes’ voice tightened, and his expression darkened. “I came all the way out to Ganema to deliver you from privation and worry, to receive your submission, and this is what I get for my generosity? A hundred other women would kiss my ankles in gratitude for even a fraction of what I am willing to give you!”

  I balled my fists in the folds of my skirt in frustration. Punching him would be counterproductive, though I wanted to so badly. “Does that include the Princess Hippodamia? You never did send those horses, did you? You never had any intention of courting or marrying her. It was just another of your games!”

  Polydektes flashed me a twisted smile; his mouth showed gaps where some of his yellow teeth had been broken or had rotted and been pulled. “That whore was not worth it. She and her father calling Seriphos a miserable backwater. Oenomaus can rot in his tomb, and Prince Pelops is welcome to his daughter’s overrated charms.”

  As I glanced away from him, my attention was suddenly seized by a familiar, weather-beaten, color-faded chest that dominated its corner of the chamber. “That chest, my mother’s chest...” I pointed. “What is that doing here?”

  “Ah, that. The one thing of worth I salvaged from Pelargos. Proof that you are, indeed, the daughter of Argos.” Polydektes showed his teeth when he smiled. Then his demeanor turned cold again. “Speaking of proofs, your stubborn refusal to obey the priestess of Hera yesterday does not please me. I must know if your claim to be a maiden is true.”

  “If you want a virgin bride so badly, then send for a young girl. You’ve made a fool of yourself hounding me.” I focused on the chest to avoid looking at him. “Everyone knows I am the mother of Eurymedon. So do whatever you will, Polydektes. No one expects to see blood on the sheets the next morning.”

  He seized my arm in a vise and violently swung me about. “No, this is all your fault. You’ve humiliated me before my subjects and the entire world! I am done tolerating your whims and pigheadedness.”

  An attempt to wrench myself free left me with an aching arm socket. Polydektes held me fast. “How dare you!” I shouted. “You murdered my neighbors—women and children—and betrayed and murdered my son. You shed blood all over the island and violated Zeus’s sanctuary, and for what, Polydektes? The right to marry a woman who brings no dowry, who’s too old to give you children, who never wanted you in the first place?”

  At that, he unhanded me, shoved me backward, and kept shoving until I crashed onto the bed. I jammed a fist into his temple before he knocked my hand away, pinned me down with his heavier body. “You bitch! My brother rose in rebellion against me!” His voice in my ear was deafening, his weight crushing. “Where is the submission you promised? Do I have to force it from you?” As Polydektes threatened with words, he was already shoving a knee between my legs.

  “Get off me!” I hissed. “I refuse to be insulted like this.”

  “You have nothing to say about it, you little savage.” Polydektes released my left hand long enough to slap me across the face. “Well-bred ladies do not bite charioteers.” He pulled roughly at the collar of my gown.

  “And well-bred princes don’t rape consorts of Zeus!” I thrust the heel of my palm into his jaw. “Or daughters of Argos, or any woman who’s ever been a priestess!” The blow jostled him sufficiently enough that I could wriggle out from under him, seize his bejeweled dagger from its sheath, and scramble from the bed. .

  “Don’t toy with me, Polydektes, or delude yourself into believing that you can get away with mistreating me as you have your other women.” As he rolled over onto his back and adjusted his jaw to recover from the blow, I kept him at a distance with the dagger. “If you truly want me to become your queen, then you had better start treating me like a queen. And I don’t mean all this.” I gestured with the dagger to the chamber’s rich trappings. “I mean no more of your twisted games. Go ahead, send your priestess. You’ll find I am telling the truth about being a maiden. So you will not touch me before the wedding, and you will behave yourself after.”

  Dark laughter erupted from his sneering mouth. “Now you are setting the terms of your submission?” He reached for the dagger. “Give me that before you hurt yourself. That is no woman’s plaything.”

  I instead thrust the dagger into my sash for safekeeping. “Yes, I am setting terms. If you want harmony and peace in this household, you will respect my wishes. Now, have you killed everyone in Pelargos?”

  “What? Pelargos?” Polydektes pantomimed a man awakening from a confused slumber in his befuddlement, but to my dismay he quickly recovered his aplomb. He shrugged. “What does it matter now?”

  If he could not fathom why it mattered, why his own selfish actions had forced the whole sorry situation, then he did not deserve to be king. “And where is your brother? They say half of Seriphos has gone over to him.”

  “Diktys?” I might as well have been asking about the weather, for all the concern Polydektes displayed. “He’s dead.”

  *~*~*~*

  I kept the dagger.

  And maintained a frigid silence that not only drove Polydektes to beat a quick withdrawal, but alarmed the girl who entered shortly thereafter to attend me. One look into my dry eyes sent her scurrying for her superior, a stolid matron who righted my disheveled dress before embarking on an absurd lecture about displeasing the king.

  “He expects gratitude for his every kindness, Lady. Your sulking and torn finery is burdensome and—”

  “Keep your counsel to yourself,” I snapped. The news of Diktys’s death had left me in a friable state. “I am a daughter of Argos, not some concubine to be henpecked.”

  She drew herself up stiffly, holding high her receding chin and puffing out an already prodigious bosom. “And I am Timandra, head mistress of the women’s quarters. My sister told me you were difficult. An obstinate bitch, that’s what she said. Well, the king won’t tolerate your airs.” She indulge
d in a self-satisfied harrumph. “I’m to tell you—”

  A sharp crack across the face stopped her listing all my other shortcomings. “When I want your opinion, I will ask for it.” Her eyes narrowed, but her demeanor did not change. Arguing with her further whittled at my spirits; it was beneath my dignity, and offered too much a temptation for a woman armed with a dagger and curdling with need to hurt someone. I worked myself into a lather of choking outrage and burgeoning tears. “Unless you have some specific purpose besides lecturing me or meddling, then your presence is not required. And advise your sister the priestess of Queen Hera that she should hold her tongue.”

  Timandra muttered something under her breath about her responsibilities, and reiterated a stiff promise to return. She left the serving maid behind. Zoe was pretty and bashful, and acute enough to understand that I wanted to be left alone. She left after providing the basic materials of washing water and linens, refreshment and lamp oil.

  How could Diktys be dead? The longer Polydektes had related the details of his brother’s fall, relishing every sordid bit, the greater my grief and outrage had waxed. There had been a skirmish somewhere in the mountains during a rainstorm. Many men perished. Diktys had last been seen pierced by arrows fighting off half a dozen Thessalians. His remains had not been recovered, for had they been, as Polydektes gleefully pointed out, he would have had them brought to me in Ganema. “It might improve your temper to see the consequences of your disobedience.”

  I should have seized one of the expensive ceramic vessels and hurled it at Polydektes’ head, but caution prevailed. Given enough provocation, he might still rape me. Better to fight with words than tantrums. “Don’t you dare lay the blame for your family squabbles at my feet.”

  Left alone now, I explored the queen’s apartment. My lodgings encompassed three rooms: the bedchamber, a narrow bathroom equipped with a terracotta tub and a stone seat, and a sitting room with a bank of shuttered windows where a group of noblewomen could visit over embroidery and gossip. Polydektes sent a loom large enough for two women to work upon. Baskets of yarn in rich colors awaited busy fingers. My mind immediately traveled back to the sanctuary and the weeks of work I had done there, alone, with freezing hands and insufficient light.