Hazel took the seat opposite Rose’s father and leaned forward to listen to him tell her about the lecture he was planning to give on his return: how soon after they’d found evidence of the old tribe there’d been a terrible accident on the lagoon and, unable to cope mentally, he’d been cared for by the Kaxuyana and Medea – a fashion designer, of all people! – until Rose, his wonderful daughter, had managed, with Hazel’s generous help, to find him.
Smiling, Rose thought back to the whoops and cheers of the crowd the night before, thrumming through the elegant corridor, as she’d stood with the others. She recalled the matching expressions on Alex’s and Aries’ faces, triumphant to have succeeded in the quest, but frustrated too, and angry, as Jason shot through the doorway ahead of them and raced down the glistening rocky corridor, back to the Underworld.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Rose had promised them. ‘Going home this time will be different.’
Alex had shrugged, unconvinced, smiled and hugged her again, and after several more rough rammy licks from Aries, and a splendidly flamboyant bow from Wat,62 they’d turned and stepped into the corridor back to the Underworld.
Sighing contentedly, she reached into the pocket of her shorts and brought out the small chunk of gold that was all that was left of Aries’ horn after using it on the gallons of Reversal Potion they’d made. It glinted, buttery in the sunshine. Gold, from a fabulous creature of myth and given with love, gold that had powered the potion, and filled the hut with trails of blue and green smoke, stars and giggles.
And yet, so many things lately had glittered on the surface only to turn out to be something much darker on the inside: Medea’s hollow promises, what truly lay at the heart of the El Dorado gold, and Jason’s ‘legendary’ courage. She turned the nugget over in her fingers. But some things had remained twenty-four-carat pure, hallmarked and genuine. Like Alex’s and Aries’ friendship. They’d come back and protected her, saving her, not from Medea, but from her own dazzled foolishness, bringing her back to her senses before she could have put the wretched El Dorado gold into Medea’s hands. She shivered, knowing how close she’d come to making the sorceress unstoppable, arming her with enough power to stir up wars and bring down famines, to turn people against one another, to poison all the good things around her until they were rotted and deadly.
Sitting back, she wondered about the future, certain that her magic had a place in it. But only a small one. After all, it was no match for friends and family. Her magic had rescued her father from the jungle, making him temporarily well enough to travel home to London. But it was the doctors and nurses who would truly heal him, together with his family and friends, the people who loved him. She shivered, understanding that Medea had never known that sort of love in her life. Neglected as a little girl, abandoned by a father who’d spent his days in awe of the Golden Fleece, only to be heartlessly betrayed by Jason, the only man she’d ever cared for, she’d come to rely on magic instead. Ever more powerful, ever more poisonous, ever more twisted, it had given her what she needed and turned her into the person she’d become.
Still, Rose smiled, buttoning the gold safely back into her pocket, Aries’ gold, together with the ingredients from Medea’s hut, now jammed into the rucksack at her feet, would certainly be useful. After all, she reminded herself, fledgling sorceresses needed something to open portals in London museums when the guards weren’t looking, in order to visit their best friends in the Underworld, didn’t they?
She tilted her chair back and rested her head on its big fluffy cushion.
In a few hours’ time they would land at Dallas and change to the flight back to London. She could hardly wait to see her mother’s astonished face when her husband walked into the arrivals lounge, and knew that all of their lives were about to change for the better.
Just like Alex’s and Aries’.
As she drifted off to sleep, she saw them again in her mind’s eye, walking away, framed by the rocky, torch-lit corridor back to the Underworld: a ram with a broken horn, a muddy boy with snakes looming over his shoulder hissing their goodbyes to her, and Wat, trailing ribbons of stuffing from his ruined puffballs, as the echoes of Jason’s footsteps rang back to them. They looked like anything but heroes. Not like Jason, bounding ahead, impatient to delight Athena with his tale as he gave her the rather special present that Rose had sent her, all wrapped and tied with ribbons, to thank her for sending them back and protecting her from Medea.
But then, she smiled, imagining Athena opening her gift, it was always what was on the inside that counted.
‘Two treats in one day!’ cried Athena, as Jason handed her the gift. ‘Not only does our greatest hero return, but he brings me an Earth souvenir, too!’ she smiled.
In the flickering torchlight of the throne room of Castle Hades, the goddesses Hera, Euterpe and Artemis clapped wildly, whilst Aphrodite leaped forward and planted a kiss on the Argonaut’s cheek. Meanwhile, standing right at the back, way behind the jostling crowd of courtiers and maids who’d gathered at the news of Jason’s return, Aries looked up at Alex and Wat, a furious snort rumbling low in his throat. As it grew, people glanced back over their shoulders, tutting before scowling at Alex. Clearly, he thought, expecting him to clamp the ram’s mouth shut, the way he usually did.
Except that he wasn’t likely to do that again.
Ever.
Instead, he stared back at them, as the trembling bellow grew louder. Soon, it became ferocious enough for people to step aside as they nervously gave Aries a wide berth, accidentally opening up a pathway over the glittering mosaic floor to the two huge thrones at the front.
Now Alex could see Athena clearly, her face beaming as she unpicked the red ribbon of Rose’s gift, and he rubbed Aries’ head, wondering again why Rose had been quite so keen to send the goddess something.
Beside her, Persephone looked up and, spotting Wat, leaned forward to Jason.
‘A guest?’ she murmured. ‘Have you brought us back some new company, too? You are so, so clever!’ Giggling, she slipped off her throne and skipped through the sea of nods and curtseys to Wat, who gave the most splendid bow of all.
‘Madam,’ he said, straightening up again. ‘Wat Raleigh, explorer, poet and soldier at your service!’
‘Ooo, goody!’ said Persephone, quickly sliding her arm through his. ‘How completely exciting. Do tell us all about the quest! Was it horribly frightening? Were you scared?’ She glanced down at his tattered satin pants, her eyes like saucers. ‘And what happened to those?’
‘Fain, it was terrifying,’ said Wat, escorting her back to her throne. ‘A daring enterprise from start to finish, but, madam, verily it is these two,’ he turned back to smile at Alex and Aries, quieter now, who were following behind, ‘this brave boy and this magnificent ram, whom you should be prettily chin-wagging with. For the exploit was entirely theirs.’ He smiled, stroking his neat beard. ‘With a little starring role for myself, of course.’
‘Really?’ Distracted, Athena glanced up from her half-unwrapped parcel.
‘Yes!’ snorted Aries, and slammed down a hoof.
‘No,’ smiled Jason, stepping quickly in front of Wat and offering a dazzling smile, as the other goddesses encircled him, giggling. ‘Can’t you see the man’s a clown? Why else would he be wearing such ridiculous clothes?’
Alex watched them, bristling. He’d expected the twisting feeling in his stomach, the thumping of his heart and the way his skin prickled with annoyance. But actually standing here, watching him preen, offering that perfect, practised smile and switching on those familiar dreamy expressions on the goddesses’ faces, it felt a million times worse. Now, watching the Argonaut whispering to Aphrodite, his mind shot back to Aries, lying bleeding and almost extinguished on the Amazon mud and feeling a wave of anguish so strong that it almost took his breath away, he walked up to the front.
‘Goddess,’ he said. ‘Wat is telling the truth. It was he, Rose and I who defeated the sorceress, whilst Aries foug
ht a terrible monster to rescue Jason.’
Athena glanced up, amused. ‘Rescue Jason?’
‘Our Jason?’ teased Persephone, pulling a bewildered face at the crowd behind her, making them laugh. ‘Whatever next?’
The room rang with coarse laughter.
‘I think the sun has addled their minds,’ said Jason, as Aphrodite shook her head prettily, holding a hand to her mouth in giggly shock.
‘No,’ said the Gorgon, raising her voice above the merriment. Flame-eyed, she fixed her stare on Athena. ‘It’s true, mistress. Alex and the others had to complete the quest, because Jason had run away. It was this boy who turned the shield and destroyed her with her own magic.’
Now the laughter was deafening. It bounced off the walls and swelled though the room, surging and rising like a storm.
Furious, Grass Snake lurched off the shield, boggle-eyed.
‘And s-s-saved usss, too!’ he cried, his voice lost in the gales of merriment.
Standing there, forced to listen to it, Alex felt as though his head would explode. He turned to the courtiers, and knew that this feeling, tight behind his ribs, was what Aries must have felt, treated like a joke, ever since he stepped into the Underworld. Beside him, the ram drew closer, looking up and urging him on, his eyes bright and excited.
‘All right then,’ shouted Alex. ‘How do you think Aries got these wounds?’ He stared into their ruddy, laughing faces. ‘From fighting a monster three-headed cat, when a terrified Jason had abandoned us, that’s how!’
‘Terrified?’ Euterpe, red-faced with amusement, turned to Hera, laughing heartily beside her.
‘The cat was bigger than the Nemean Lion!’ hissed Krait, whipping out in a blur of black and white, sending the muse of music backwards in fright.
‘And Alex killed it,’ said Grass Snake.
‘With arrowsss,’ said Adder.
‘And the thunderbolt!’ said Viper.
‘And pure courage,’ finished Aries, with a furious snort.
‘Enough!’ snapped Jason, flapping at the serpents with his hand. ‘Goddess, have them removed from the palace. Can’t you see how they’re trying to grasp some small slice of glory for themselves?’ he said, turning to face her. ‘Surely you can ––’
But his words died in this throat.
Athena wasn’t listening.
She was too busy reading over the tattered, sea-stained scroll she held in her hands.
Jason stood frozen, gaping at it, his eyes wide with recognition and shock. Then his eyes slid towards the heap of paper and red ribbons at her feet, the wrapping that Rose had bought in Manaus, clearly unable to believe just what it had contained.
Around them, the crowd watched Athena’s grey eyes darken and the smile slip from her face. Now they stopped laughing, their guffaws and wheezing fading, turning into a rush of curious, muffled whispers and then silence, leaving everyone as still as statues. For long moments the only sound in the throne room was a loud slobbering and squeaking as Cerberus chewed his favourite ducky toy, bone and ball all at the same time, until Athena finally looked up. Being the goddess of wisdom, of course, she had immediately recognised the truth of the words on the page and when she turned to look at Jason, her eyes were as cold and grey as ashes from a dead fire.
‘Goddess,’ said Jason, his smile hollow and held rigidly on his face. ‘What foolishness is this?’ He reached for the scroll and Athena snatched it away. ‘Why waste our time on such … such tricks,’ he stuttered, ‘when I should be telling you how I defeated the sorceress?’
Abruptly, Athena turned away from him, and regarded Alex and Aries with fresh curiosity.
‘Actually,’ she said, meeting Aries’ bright eyes. ‘I’d rather hear it from the ram.’
Oooh, I do love a jolly ending, don’t you? And this one makes me want to boogie round the front room, just thinking about everyone returning happily home. Well, everyone apart from Medea, of course, and that really has me shaking a tail feather.
Hoochy-scoochy! Waggle my rear!
You see, whilst Athena and the crowd at the palace settled down to listen to Aries telling them what had actually happened on the quest, and Rose held her father’s hand as the plane soared above the Amazon, Medea the bug-bitten howler monkey was sulking high in the leaves of a Brazil nut tree. A particularly spiky and beetle-busy Brazil nut tree, I might add, and one thundering with the hoots and grunts of other howlers, honking round her like a herd of windy walruses.
Seemingly nothing more than just another monkey now, she had soon been raucously accepted by the troupe. And I mean raucously. Because, for those non-zoologists among you, let me tell you that these monkeys make more racket than a stage full of screeching rock stars trying to be heard over a team of vacuum-cleaner testers hoovering around a passing brass band. And they’re even more deafening when they’re yammering right into your ear hole. As Medea might have told you herself, save that in that din she’d never have heard you asking, and besides, she couldn’t have answered anyway, could she, what with her being a monkey, remember?
To the left of her, a young howler cheerfully sprayed the leaves below with wee – something, I’m afraid, that passes for fun in monkey circles – but comes as a terrible shock to someone who until recently was a snooty-booty high-society sorceress. To her right, a big, russet male appeared to be blowing her kisses, and every time she leaned back against the tree trunk, she was startled by the unwelcome prod of fingers in her fur, as the grandmother of the group, a grumpy-looking monkey with piggy eyes, plucked lice from her fur and chewed them wetly.
Grunting in disgust, Medea closed her eyes and tried to shut out the clamour and the heat and the prospect of yet another fistful of green bananas for dinner.
Things, she decided, could not be any worse.
Which was when the bellowing chorus around her drained away and in the light twittering of finches left behind, Medea heard a new sound. She snapped open her eyes, noticing the other howlers, paused and mute, their faces upturned, their bowl-mouths slack with wonder, as the unmistakable throb of an engine grew louder. Turning her snub nose to the sky, she saw a bright pink plane gliding across a perfect stretch of blue.
Instantly her brain scorched with rage. Fury flashed through her limbs, white-hot, propelling her on to her back feet. She stretched up, she bunched her hands into fists, she waved them wildly over her head, hooting madly after the distant aircraft. Then, snapping her tail out to swing it like a whip – the tail that she should actually have been using to hang on to the branch – she overbalanced and shot backwards off the bough.
Wham!
Bam!
Slam!
– she hurtled down through the trees
Smack!
Thwack!
Crack!
hitting every branch on the way
‘!’
‘!’
‘!’
– hurling monkey curses into the air (curses that I shall not repeat here because I am far too refined for that) to land in a tangled heap in a prickle fig bush.
Moments later, she groaned dizzily, peering up to see the greenery overhead quivering with the other howlers, swinging, dangling and whooping with glee. Then, summoning up the last scrap of her dignity, which isn’t easy with a bottom full of thorns, she lumbered away into the shadows.
62 Yes, Wat too. After all, the young explorer hadn’t met a pretty young queen for nearly four hundred years, and particularly not one with a network of portals stepping out all over the world. As you might imagine, this was a far more tempting prospect than returning too quickly to an eternity of croquet with one’s parents.
DON’T KNOW YOUR HADES FROM YOUR HARPIES?
Then Take A Sneaky-Peek At The Greeky-Speak Below!
Achilles (pronounced A-kill-ees)
Achilles was the most famous warrior in Greek myths and fought and died in the War of Troy. Because she loved her little boy so much, Mummy Achilles tried to make him immortal by dipping her b
aby into the River Styx. Unfortunately, rather than let him doggy-paddle in his water wings, she held him by his heel, so that this part of his body didn’t get wet and wasn’t protected by the river’s magic. Consequently, Achilles was killed when Prince Paris fired an arrow into his foot. Nowadays, we still used the term ‘Achilles’ heel’ to mean somebody’s weak spot.
Agora
The agora was the Ancient Greek marketplace where various traders brought their wares to sell. Most towns enjoyed a flower market (the flora-agora), a sword market (the war-agora) and a pet market, bursting with dogs, cats and gerbils (the paw-claw-and-gnaw-agora).
Alexander the Great
Alexander the Great was one of the cleverest military leaders of all time and conquered a third of the globe from the saddle of his faithful horse, Bucephalus. The stallion had once been regarded as furious and untamable, but the teenage Alexander quickly spotted that the gigantic neddy was simply scared of his own blooming enormous shadow. Turning him away from the sun, he won the horse’s trust and from that day on they were inseparable. Alexander rode Bucephalus into nearly all of his battles and when the horse died, he founded a city in his steed’s honour, called Bucephala. Making it lucky, I suppose, that Alexander hadn’t named him Hoofy-Pops. I mean, who’d want to live in Hoofy-Pops-Ville?
Apollonius of Rhodes and ‘The Argonautica’
Voyage of the Argo? Is there an app for that? Yes, there certainly is: Ap-ollonius of Rhodes. He was the Ancient Greek who famously wrote about it around 3 BC in a long poem called ‘The Argonautica’. Not much of a poem, though, if you ask me. Waffles on for ages without a single rhyme. Personally, I think a snappy limerick would have been much better, say:
Some heroes of long-ago Greece
All muscles and knobbly knees
Rampage! Page 29