by Will Adams
Gaille wrinkled her nose. 'I've always thought that a bit hard on the ram.'
'Never be an animal in a Greek myth,' agreed Nico. He covered his mouth with his hand, then produced a deep, long and contented belch. 'Anyway, the fleece stayed in Georgia until the time of Jason. Jason was the rightful king of Thessaly, of course, but his uncle had taken the throne, which he refused to give up unless Jason first proved himself by bringing back the fleece. Jason built himself a ship, the Argo, then gathered together the cream of Greek heroes, the Argonauts, with whom he set sail for Colchis. They endured the usual misadventures-fire-breathing oxen and dragons and metal giants and so on-but eventually Jason brought the fleece back in triumph to Thessaly, and claimed his throne. And that's pretty much it, for that fleece, at least.'
'For that fleece?' asked Gaille.
'Yes,' smiled Nico. 'You see, the thing is, Greek tradition mentions another golden fleece. It's much less well-known, but much more likely to have existed. And the fascinating thing is that it was reputedly kept at Eleusis. Did you know that, so long as they could afford it, anyone who spoke Greek could be initiated at Eleusis, even slaves. But there was one exception. People with blood on their hands. That is to say, murderers. Before they could participate, they had to go through a purification ceremony. The Italians very kindly lent us a vase for the conference depicting Hercules being cleansed. You may have seen it. He's sitting on a throne, and guess what's draped over it?'
'A golden fleece?' suggested Knox.
'A golden fleece,' nodded Nico. 'And of course the whole thing about Eleusis is that we know so little about what went on during the ceremony. But we do know for sure that several unknown sacred objects were shown to the congregation. Isn't it possible that the fleece was among them?'
'But I thought that Petitier made his finds in Crete,' said Knox. 'What would this fleece be doing there?'
'Again, it's more plausible than you might think. For one thing, Crete figures prominently in the Argonaut legend; it's where Jason encountered the bronze giant Talos. And more than a few scholars believe that at least parts of the fleece legend came originally from Crete. And Eleusis had its own very strong connections with Crete too. The legend of Demeter and Persephone is undoubtedly Cretan: apart from anything else, the Homeric Hymn, our best source on the Mysteries, states flatly that Demeter came from Crete. The earliest mention of Dionysus is also from Crete. His name is "Dio-Nysa" or "God of Nysa", and Nysa was most likely in Crete. Of course, he was a multifaceted god, as so many were. That is to say, he wasn't just Dionysus, he was Zeus and Poseidon too. As god of the sea, Poseidon was vitally important to the Minoans: and remember that it was Poseidon who sent the golden ram to pick up Phrixus and Helle in the first place.'
'That's a little thin, isn't it?'
'Then how about this: the families of the high priest at Eleusis were known as the Eumolpidai, from their ancestor Eumolpos, the first high priest, who came here from Crete. The high priestesses were also descended from Cretan families. I've been thinking about this a lot recently, as you might imagine. The Mysteries were celebrated all around the Mediterranean from the early Mycenaean era on; that is to say, from the end of the Minoan. The Minoan collapse seems overwhelmingly likely to have been precipitated by the eruption of Mount Thera, the greatest cataclysm in human history. It's not too far-fetched, is it, to imagine a kind of diaspora from Crete to the Mediterranean fringes, in which Minoan priests had to flee in such a hurry that they left their sacred treasures behind. Or, if you won't grant me that, we have good reason to believe that the sacred families kept up their links with Crete; so when Eleusis finally came under threat from Christianity, wouldn't it have made sense for them to seek sanctuary there?'
'Taking all their artefacts back with them. Including the golden fleece.'
'Exactly.'
'And now Petitier has found it.'
'Or so he wanted us to believe.'
'And tomorrow was to have been his great unveiling,' nodded Knox. 'But someone got to him first.'
ELEVEN
I
The sight of Knox beckoning for the bill seemed to send a jolt through Nico. 'You must excuse me,' he said, labouring to his feet. 'I have mounds to do before morning. Simply mounds. My speech to rehearse. Itineraries to change.' He waved vaguely. 'You can't imagine.'
'Of course,' said Knox. 'We're grateful you could spare this much time.'
'Not at all. Not at all.' He patted his pockets for his wallet, his frown growing all the time as he couldn't find it. 'Oh dear,' he said.
'Forget it,' said Gaille hurriedly. 'It's on us. The least we can do after everything you and Charissa have done for us.'
'You're too kind,' he said, a little shamefaced as he shook their hands. Then he said to Knox. 'I'll be at Eleusis from eight, if you want to see the set-up before your talk.'
'I'll see you there,' nodded Knox.
They watched him leave, smiling at how the other diners had to shimmy their tables aside to make room, then shared a wry look. 'He's really hard up,' said Gaille defensively. 'He's bankrolling the conference himself. What was I supposed to say?'
'Exactly what you did,' he assured her, covering her hand with his own. But the incident had given him a little prod. He excused himself and went to the toilets where he fished the red-leatherette box out of his pocket. Since getting it back at the police station, he hadn't had a single moment to make sure that the ring was still inside. It was, thankfully. He took it out, held it up against the strip-light above the sink. It gave him a mild thrill even to touch it, the bright cool gold, the sparkle of gemstone. More than he could afford, but that wasn't what gave it its tingle.
Three weeks before, he and Gaille had taken the tram out to Alexandria's Fort Qait Bey, the medieval fortress built on the site of the ancient Pharos lighthouse. They enjoyed evenings out there, the sense of carnival, the boys chasing each other in and out of the crowds, the young women leaning against the sea-wall as they flirted with their men, while waves crashed against the breakwaters of ancient stone, throwing spray high into the night sky, leaving dark stains on the grey tarmac. The hawkers had been out in force, selling their sickly-sweet confections and showing off their latest cheap flashy toys. A boy with bush-baby ears and a missing front tooth had pestered Knox to buy some gaudy costume jewellery for Gaille before chasing off after better prospects. But it had given Knox an opening for a question that had been much on his mind. 'Ever heard of Alexandrite?' he'd asked her.
'Alexandrite?'
'A gemstone. Polychromatic. That's to say, it changes colour according to the light, like those sunglasses.'
She'd smiled. 'You're such a nerd.'
'The most prized ones are green during the day, but then turn red by night. Two gemstones for the price of one. You know how cheap I am.' They'd laughed together at this private joke. 'The thing is, I've always had rather a fondness for them; because of Alexander, I mean. They must have something to do with him, right? Or with this city, at least.'
'You'd certainly think so.'
He'd nodded briskly, though he'd hoped for more enthusiasm. 'So when you think about it, they're really our gemstone, aren't they?'
She'd stopped walking, had taken his hand. 'I suppose so,' she'd replied carefully. 'And I'm sure they're just lovely. But I prefer diamonds myself.'
He smiled down at the ring. Diamonds it was. A sudden hot clutch in his chest, wanting it over and done with, Gaille as his fiancee, his wife. Not tonight, though, not with Augustin so perilously ill. He closed the box, put it away and went back out.
Gaille was on her mobile. 'Claire,' she mouthed, raising an interrogative eyebrow. He shook his head, went to the bar instead. His bill was ready: the size of it nearly gave him a seizure. No wonder Nico had patted his pockets. He put it on his card; he could worry about it when all this was over. 'The nurses are making her up a bed at the hospital,' said Gaille, appearing at his shoulder. 'I said we'd take in a bag. I hope that's okay?'
&nbs
p; 'Of course.'
'She asked if you'd said anything about your conversation earlier. What did she mean by that?'
'I don't know.'
'Yes, you do.'
'Let's get out of here,' he said. It had been raining, leaving the air fresh and bracing after the smoky warm restaurant. 'That was really good,' he said, patting his stomach. 'Nico certainly knows his restaurants.'
Gaille gave him a wry look. 'Come on, Daniel,' she said. 'What was this conversation about? Have you fallen out or something?'
'I don't think so.' He gave a little shrug. 'She just thought I might have done more to stop that policeman hitting Augustin.'
'She thinks what?' asked Gaille, stiffening with vicarious umbrage. 'But I thought his partner shoved you up against the wall.'
'He did. Claire just thinks I could have got free quicker, if I'd tried.'
'And could you have?'
He hesitated a moment before answering. 'Yes,' he admitted. 'I think I could.'
II
Kiko could sense his mother's restlessness as she lay beside him in the four-poster. She'd been on edge since dinner, which they'd eaten in the kitchens, along with those of the castle staff not needed to serve at the banquet. They'd sat at a long table of rough wood, perfect for picking fat splinters from. It had been an immensely comforting experience after such an unsettling day, what with the cheerful banter of the staff, the warmth of the ovens, the sight and smells of all that delicious food being prepared for the banquet: salmon and roast pig and venison and tiny chickens in walnut sauce and red beans with pomegranate and coriander. Not that any of that had been for them, of course, though they'd eaten heartily enough their stew of mutton with potato and onions.
Alexei Nergadze and two of his friends had come in as they'd been mopping up their plates with hunks of warm bread. While Alexei had gone to discuss the menu with the cooks, his friends had stood by the table, eyeing up Eliso and Lila, making jokes that Kiko hadn't understood, but which had made all the others blush. His mother had been unsettled ever since. Her mind, Kiko knew, was on them, not him.
Even so, he'd almost dropped off when she slipped out of the bed. Almost. He turned onto his side and saw her white nightdress flitting like a kindly ghost to the door, opening it just wide enough to make sure there was no one outside. He sat up, turned on the bedside lamp. 'Where are you going, Mama?'
'Oh,' she said. 'You're awake.'
'Yes. I'm awake.'
'I'm just going to look in on your sisters. Make sure they're okay.'
'You're coming back, aren't you?'
'Just get to sleep now, my love.'
'But I'm scared,' he told her. 'What are we even doing in this horrid place? Why can't we go home?'
'It's just for a few days.'
'Where's father? I want my father.'
'Please, my love. You have to be strong. You have to. I can't leave your sisters alone. Not here. Not tonight.'
'Let me come with you.'
'There's no bed for you in there.'
'There's no bed for you either.'
'Yes, but I'm used to sleeping in uncomfortable places. I've had to share a bed with your father after all.'
Usually, when she made jokes at his father's expense, it was a way for the two of them to bond. But Kiko wasn't having that, not tonight, not here. He pushed the corners of his mouth as far down as they would go. 'Why are you always so worried about Eliso and Lila?' he asked. 'Why aren't you worried about me?'
She sighed and came back to the bed. 'Your sisters are reaching a certain age,' she told him, taking his hand. 'Men aren't always trustworthy around girls as beautiful as your sisters. You saw those two earlier.'
'Please don't leave.'
'You'll be fine,' she said, switching off the light. 'I promise.' She kissed his forehead and then went back to the door, opened it up. 'Sweet dreams,' she murmured, before slipping out.
Sweet dreams! He trembled beneath the bedclothes, the fear of night-time monsters already growing. Noises that had meant little with his mother beside him suddenly seemed to grow louder and more malevolent. The wind rushed and creaked, flickers of rain tapped on the windows, ivy brushed the mullioned panes like an escaped convict trying to pick his way inside. An owl hooted. A door banged. Somewhere, there was a howl of laughter. He gave a violent shudder: it was much colder here than it had been in Tbilisi, and the bedclothes were thinner. He pulled them up around his throat and prayed to ancient gods to keep him safe.
III
The hotel concierge was effusively apologetic about the state of Claire's luggage, in the way that such people only ever are when someone else was to blame. He explained with unseemly relish how the police had taken her cases into an empty room, where they'd interrogated them like a mouthy suspect, flinging the contents hither and thither, slitting opening linings and vindictively squeezing out toothpaste, before finally giving hotel staff grudging permission to transfer them to the basement. He led Knox and Gaille down there, then left them to it.
Gaille crouched to pop the catches of the nearest suitcase; it sprang open like a jack-in-the-box from the chaos crammed inside. She looked wearily up at Knox. 'We'll have to repack everything,' she said. 'We can't let Claire see it like this.' They worked briskly, Gaille setting changes of clothes aside for Claire as they went, along with her wash-bag and towel and other essentials that she then packed into the smallest of the cases.
Knox carried it out to the car, slung it on the back seat. 'I'll park outside,' he said. 'You can run in and drop it off.'
'You're not going to start avoiding Claire, are you?'
'It's not that,' he said, pulling out. 'Parking's just a nightmare near the hospital.'
'I know. I know.' She put her hand upon his as it rested upon the gear-stick. 'But listen: what happened to Augustin happened because a policeman went berserk. It wasn't your fault.'
'I know that, but-'
'It wasn't your fault,' she insisted. 'Maybe you could have stopped one blow. Maybe. You'd almost certainly have got yourself put in hospital too in the process.'
'You're missing the point.'
'No, I'm not. I'm really not. You're the one missing the point. You're a brave man, Daniel. God knows how many times you've risked yourself for me. So if anything failed this afternoon, it wasn't your courage. Perhaps it was your ability to process what was going on. You were in shock, that's all, and shock numbs people. That's what it does. I don't think you realise it, but Augustin's like a big brother to you, and big brothers are invincible. To see him assaulted that way, it was unthinkable.'
'Maybe,' he said.
'It's the truth, Daniel. And anyway this is hardly the time to start doubting yourself. I need you too much. Augustin needs you too much. Claire needs you too much. She had a go at you earlier, sure, but that's because the man she loves is in grave danger, and she's terrified. Anger is one of the few ways she has of dealing with that, because she's human. So she needs you to take whatever she throws at you right now, however irrational or hurtful it may seem, and still be there for her.' She took and squeezed his wrist. 'Do you understand?'
Her words braced him, as they always did. 'Yes,' he said. 'I do.'
TWELVE
I
'So do they bring their girlfriends home, then, your daughters?' asked Zaal.
'Would you mind not smoking in the car,' said Edouard.
'Yes, I would mind,' said Zaal. He buzzed his window down as a compromise. 'So?' he asked. 'Your daughters? Do they bring their friends home? After school, and that?'
'Of course they do.'
'Any hotties?'
'For Christ's sake!'
'I always figured that would be one of the advantages of having daughters,' mused Zaal. He slid a look out of the corner of his eye, as if to assess how successfully he was getting under Edouard's skin. 'Once you get on a bit, it becomes bloody hard to meet nice young girls. I mean, everyone thinks you're a pervert if you hang around outside schools, right? But when y
ou've got daughters of your own, no problem, right? All the nice young girls come to you.'
'I don't want to have this conversation.'
'And holidays, Jesus!' He tapped ash out the window. 'Aren't you a clever bastard. All those hot young bodies oiling themselves up on the beach for you, taking showers together back at the hotel. Enough to drive a man crazy, right?'
'Fatherhood's not like that.'
'Maybe not for you. But what about when your girls go to stay with their friends. I'll bet their fathers will be checking them out. How does that make you feel? Doesn't it worry you, trusting your daughters to those filthy old men?'
'Will you shut up?'
'I'm just saying. You want to be careful.'
Edouard scowled and clenched a fist. Zaal had to know that his daughters were being held hostage, that anxiety for them was driving him crazy. Of course he did. That was why he was enjoying himself so much. He turned on the radio, looking for a station that might keep Zaal quiet, or at least drown him out. A car pulled up on the other side of the road. He couldn't see much through the light drizzle, but then the passenger door opened and Gaille Bonnard got out.
'Is that the girl?' asked Zaal.
Edouard hesitated, loath to bring bad things down upon this young woman, but then he imagined what Mikhail might do to him if he learned he'd shielded her. 'Yes. It's her.'
Zaal flicked away his cigarette, flapped open his mobile and called in. 'They're here,' he said. 'The girl's taking in a bag. The guy's waiting outside.' He paused to listen. 'A Citroen. Blue. Looks like a rental.' He sat forward and squinted. 'Can't read it, not from here.' The hospital doors opened again and Gaille hurried out. 'She's coming back out. She must have just dropped the bag inside.' Zaal turned to Edouard. 'Follow them,' he said.