Enchanted Fire
Page 31
Aietes looked thoughtful. “I cannot answer that. It was so long ago. But I remember clearly that we agreed to try to breed the creature. Unfortunately, it took no interest in any mate of any kind we proffered.”
“And it was not sacrificed, even after you knew it would not breed?”
“No.” Aietes, unaware of the tale Pelias had told Jason, looked puzzled at Jason’s question, but answered courteously. “It died by accident, unless it was old when Phrixos rode it and died of its age. Never having seen one like it before, we could not tell its age or whether it was sick. The shepherd found it fallen into a stream in the foothills where it was pastured. By the time he came upon it, its fleece had picked up gold dust that was fine enough to be carried by the water. It was Phrixos’ idea to tan the hide carefully and bind it so that the water had to flow over it. He intended to take it out when it was heavy with gold and beat the metal out of the fleece.”
“Perhaps it should have been called the golden harvest, instead of the golden fleece,” Jason said.
Jason’s lips smiled, but Orpheus touched Eurydice gently. Her black eyes flashed to him, acknowledging that she no more than he believed Jason’s light-hearted response matched his true feelings. But she looked back at Jason and the king at once. What she could not decide was whether Jason had been convinced of Aietes’ truthfulness—and therefore of Pelias’ falseness or, at least, the falsity of his dream—or whether Jason thought Aietes was lying.
“There was no golden harvest.” Aietes’ mouth still smiled, but the lips had twisted. “Nothing we could do would strip the gold dust from the fleece. Well, yes, we cut off a bit and burned it. The fleece burned and the gold melted clean—but what good was that? When we had cut away the fleece and collected the gold there would be no fleece to collect more. From time to time we talked about it, Phrixos and I, but he could never bring himself to give up the hope of more by destroying the collector—and then he died…” Aietes’ eyes stared blindly past Jason for a moment. Then he sighed and added, “I no longer had the power to touch the fleece. Not that I could have borne to do so—”
“Phrixos had set a guard on it,” Medea interrupted. “It is useless to ask my father to give it to you. He cannot.”
Her lips smiled too, and her throaty voice was soft, but Eurydice tightened her grip on Orpheus’ hand, which she had taken again. They stood a little behind and to the left of Jason, so Eurydice could see Aietes’ profile and Medea’s full face. When she said her father could not give the fleece to Jason, the pupils of her eyes had enlarged until they swallowed the pale iris and then snapped back to normal. That was shocking, but Eurydice had been looking at Aietes. It was his expression that had brought her eyes to Medea.
“That is true,” Aietes said, his voice utterly colorless. “But the matter needs further discussion—only not here in my audience chamber.” He smiled at Phrixos’ sons. “You, my children, should go home and greet your family. Rest if you like; return if you like. Those who helped you will be my guests, and you may visit them here.”
The four young men bowed respectfully, and their faces showed no distrust. Each pressed Jason’s hand and clasped Orpheus and Mopsus on the shoulder, but it was apparent that they were eager to go. They bowed again to Medea, but more distantly, then left quickly, going up the farther aisle of columns. Aietes looked after them for just a moment, then raised a hand, and a tall man came from among the guards behind the throne.
“This is my steward, Bounos. He will take you to an apartment where you can rest and refresh yourselves. Later, we will talk about the golden fleece and to whom it belongs.”
“As you will, my lord,” Jason said, “but I have a ship in your harbor and men for whom I am responsible. Will it be possible for me to leave the palace—and return again.”
“Yes, of course,” Medea said before Aietes could reply. “Let us go to the apartment that Bounos has chosen, and I will set a mark upon you that will permit you to come and go, outside the palace and within it.”
Aietes’ lips parted, but Medea turned her head toward him and smiled, her sharp teeth very white against the red lips. He said nothing, merely nodded curtly at her and mounted the dais again. Bounos set out back the way they had come and all followed, Medea talking softly to Jason and receiving equally soft replies. When they came to the doors, the steward turned right into the corridor facing the outer doors then right again at the corner. Midway down between the guard room they had passed and the one at the other end, he opened a handsome wooden door, stood aside for them to enter, bowed to Medea, and closed the door behind them.
The chamber, if not very large, was more luxuriously furnished than any private room Eurydice had seen. There were several deeply cushioned low couches set in a curve around a table against one wall. Against the other were two groups of three chairs, positioned for intimate talking. The back wall had two large windows, protected by closely set bars and strong shutters, which were now open to the afternoon light and air. On the wall against which stood the couches, an open door showed a tiled wall. Eurydice’s eyes widened—a private bath! Between the sets of chairs near the other wall were two doors. These were closed, but Eurydice knew they would be bedchambers.
She glanced up at Orpheus, but he was watching Medea and Jason, who were now looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Medea reached out, without shifting her gaze and took Jason’s hand. She lifted it so that its palm faced her lips, whispered a phrase or two, and drew the palm to her mouth. Eurydice had started forward when Medea began to whisper, but Orpheus held her back. Jason had glanced at them warningly over Medea’s head while hers was bent over his hand. His eyes were very bright, and he did not look bemused at all in that moment.
Then Medea lifted her head, laughed, and said, “There is your pass. You cannot lose it. To use it, you say, ‘By the Lady Medea’s will’.”
Jason looked into his palm and laughed also, holding it up a moment later so that the others could see. Mopsus also grinned. The palm showed a triangle with two small, flat ovals for eyes, a line for a nose, and a shorter, curved line below for a smiling mouth. It should have been impossible for such a generalized sketch to look like anyone—and yet there could be no doubt it was Medea’s face that looked at them from Jason’s palm. Eurydice stiffened to conceal a shudder.
“I hope there is another way for you to place your mark on my companions,” Jason said, taking her hand into his marked one. “If there is not, I will be very jealous.”
She smiled more broadly. “Oh, yes,” she said, and nodded to Mopsus. “Come here.”
He did so without hesitation and held out his hand. This time Eurydice was ready and had muttered her “sharp ears” spell. She heard the phrase that Medea said clearly. One word was certainly the same as that Kytissoros had used to the guards, another the one that opened the door; the third and fourth she did not recognize. Meanwhile Medea’s finger, rather than her tongue, had marked Mopsus’ palm and when he raised it, it showed the same face.
Holding out her hand, Eurydice walked up to Medea before Orpheus moved. The princess did not seem aware of the spell Eurydice was using nor of the protective amulet she was wearing. She said her four words, traced lines on Eurydice’s palm, and then looked up sharply.
“My spell will not take on you. You are a witch! And you are protected!”
The pupils in her eyes were all black.
Oddly, instead of being frightened out of her wits, Eurydice felt a wash of relief. I cannot stay in Colchis, she thought. I will have to go with Orpheus. I would be in greater danger here than in Greece. Then the immediate threat drove everything else from Eurydice’s mind.
“I’m not a very good witch,” she said faintly and most mendaciously, blinking her eyes. “I am a good Finder and a good Healer, and sometimes I can sense what a person feels—which is why Jason brought me—but I have not a great store of spells. Perhaps your mark would not take because we use different kinds of magic? I cannot feel your spells at all.”
“You cannot?”
“No, my lady.” A sharp sigh from Mopsus agreed.
“It is true enough that she is no great witch,” Jason put in, smiling slightly. “When Orpheus was taken prisoner, the best she could do was a ‘little kitchen spell’ to make his captor hungry.”
Eurydice could feel color mount in her cheeks, and had some difficulty in keeping her eyes down. Jason was, of course, protecting her—as he would protect any member of his crew—but the condescension in his voice made her furious. In the next moment, she almost laughed at herself. A blow to her vanity was a small price to pay for the change in Medea’s expression.
“Well.” Medea shrugged. Her eyes were back to normal and now she looked somewhat contemptuous. Perhaps there was also a touch of satisfaction in her, Eurydice thought. “Then you will not be able to wander about unless you are with someone who is marked,” she added.
Eurydice bowed her head in consent, but as Medea turned to Orpheus, she touched the amulet on her breast. Whether he had seen and taken warning or been hesitating anyway, because he hated the idea of any spell applied to his hands, she did not know, but he quickly shook his head.
“I will just stay with Eurydice,” he said.
“As you like.” Medea was plainly indifferent and turned back to Jason with another sensuous smile.
That indifference removed much of Eurydice’s anxiety. She suspected if the spell Medea had cast was more than just a signal to the guards to let the marked person pass, she would have been angrier about its failure to “take” on Eurydice and more insistent that Orpheus be marked. As it was, Eurydice intended to experiment with the use of the two spell words with which she was familiar combined with “By the Lady Medea’s will.” She hoped they would give her the freedom of the palace. If they did not, she would consider what next to do. Meanwhile, Medea had made clearer what her smile had meant. She and Jason were going toward the door.
“Jason—” Orpheus said.
He turned his head and glared, but the fatuous smile had left his lips as soon as Medea could not see his face. Still, his voice was husky and his words thick when he said, “I will soon return.”
Orpheus did not look much comforted, but he knew when arguing with Jason would only make him more stubborn and was silent. Jason turned his head and dropped the lid over his right eye slowly and deliberately just before he went out the door. Silently, Mopsus went and closed it.
Eurydice put a hand on Orpheus’ arm. “I do not believe he is ensorcelled,” she said. “Mopsus seems unaffected and she said the same spell over each.”
“Not unaffected,” Mopsus said, laughing. “I am not dead, after all. That is quite a woman.”
“Not trapped by magic,” Orpheus agreed, frowning, “but, as Mopsus said, that woman is very beautiful, and we were a year on Lemnos because of another beautiful woman.”
“You will have more success reminding him of that after he has supped off her,” Eurydice pointed out. “But I am glad they are gone. I would like to try if Medea’s spell words will get us past the guards without her mark. Mopsus, will you come with us and show your mark if the guards…er…take offense at my speaking the spell words without it?”
To everyone’s delight, Mopsus’ mark was not necessary. Nor, apparently, was Eurydice’s magic, since Eurydice’s use of the words got them out of the palace and Orpheus—she taught the spell words to him on the way back to the ship for extra clothing since they were to stay at the palace—got them back in at a door where the guards had never seen them before. They did not hurry. Since Mopsus was with them, they did not intend to hide the fact that they had left the palace, but excuses were not necessary. No one awaited them. Jason had not yet returned to the chamber when they came back, but they did not need to wait for him long. He was pleased that they had brought his most formal and elegant garments from the ship and not curious about how they got there and back.
That lack of interest did not trouble his companions. He was clearly alert and not at all bemused when he said, “Medea is inclined to favor me, and I am doing my best to make her think I am totally captivated by her.” He paused and grinned. “It is not a difficult task.” He sobered almost immediately. “Mopsus, is she, as I believe, a powerful sorceress?”
“I have not the faintest idea,” Mopsus said. “I am sorry, Jason, but if my eyes did not tell me she was there, my inner vision would lead me to believe Medea did not exist.” He turned. “Eurydice? Did you feel more than I?”
“Feel, no,” Eurydice replied without hesitation, “but like Jason, I believe she is very powerful. You heard what I said to her when her spell did not take on me. It was true. I cannot feel any spell cast here, not even the strongest. And I cannot read these people—at least not Medea or Aietes—beyond what I can see in their bodies and faces and hear in their voices. Still…” She drew a deep breath, let it out. “I am sure both Aietes and Medea are strong sorcerers.”
“Then likely I will have to woo the daughter and fix her firmly to my cause.” Oddly, Jason did not look displeased. “She is already half on my side because she wishes to be rid of the golden fleece—so much she said.”
“If she did not lie,” Orpheus said.
“Why should she?” Jason shrugged. “She said Phrixos, though dead, still had a hold on her father through the fleece and she wishes to break that. Why should I care? What is important is that she is willing to help me obtain the fleece and escape with it.”
“Eurydice?” Orpheus’ naming was an appeal for another opinion.
She shook her head slowly. “I do not know whether Medea spoke the truth—how could I? Even if I were able to ‘feel’ her intention, I was not there. I can confirm that there is some kind of ill feeling between father and daughter—”
“I sensed nothing,” Mopsus said.
Eurydice grinned. “You were too busy looking at Medea, I do not find her so attractive, naturally—after all, she is much more beautiful than I.” Then she grew serious. “I looked as much at Aietes, and there is a rivalry, perhaps worse. Now that I have seen them all together, I am nearly sure that Phrixos’ sons believe Medea caused their father’s death—and I think Aietes also believes that. I do not say it is true, but I would caution you, Jason, not to think a tumble in bed will bind Medea or that she is ‘just a woman’ and thus easy prey.”
“I will be careful,” he said, and neither Eurydice nor the men doubted his sincerity. “We will see what Aietes says tonight. Then, if I must court her, I will—watching out for stray spells along the way.”
Eurydice bit her tongue against saying he might not find avoiding stray spells so easy as he thought. She had warned him and would not make him more receptive by repeating herself. When she had more evidence she might know better what to do. Meanwhile, she merely went into the tiled chamber, which was indeed a bath, and pulled out the stone that let the water flow into the tub. Half a candlemark later, feeling like a completely new woman and one able to hold her own against even the stunning Medea, she crossed to the bedchamber where they had left her clothes and Orpheus’.
The men broke off their conversation and went to bathe as a group, Jason calling back to Eurydice that she should not take so long in dressing as she had in bathing, since Medea had told him that dinner would be served before sunset. And, indeed, the men were barely out of the bathing chamber when a servant opened the door and told Eurydice, who was in the central chamber, that the guests were summoned to the table.
They did not go back to the audience chamber but were led through one of the guardrooms to a curving stone stair that went up two stories. At the top, a door opened onto a rooftop garden that was enclosed by window-pierced walls. A round table was set with seven places, at three of which were Aietes, Medea, and Bounos. Medea gestured for Jason to come and sit beside her and Aietes called a welcome to all.
“I do not know whether I deserve a welcome,” Jason said, bowing to Aietes before he seated himself beside Medea. The others also took places: M
opsus next to Jason and Orpheus next to Aietes with Eurydice between them. “After all,” he continued, “I have come to take from you a treasure you have long held.”
“And which is rightfully mine,” Aietes said.
Jason did not contest that, merely said, “Yet I am pledged to obtain it and bring it back to Yolcos.” His voice held as much regret as determination. “For Pelias, my uncle and my king, has long been tortured by a dreadful dream. The ghost of Phrixos comes to him and bewails his untimely, and unnatural, death—at your hands, King Aietes—moaning that the cause was the golden fleece and that the fleece must be taken from Colchis before his spirit can come to rest.”
“It is a false dream!” Aietes exclaimed, his voice loud and angry. “I did no harm and wished no harm to Phrixos. The fleece was no cause for conflict between us. I am rich enough and even if I were poor, I would have counted ten times the gold the fleece carries to be a poor exchange for Phrixos’ life. We were friends, companions…” His voice shook, and he paused to steady it, then went on, “I do not care about the fleece now, either. If you can get it—” he laughed harshly “—you can have it.”
Eurydice strained to keep her face blank, or perhaps allow only a faint anxiety to show. Something about Aietes’ last speech did not ring true, as had what he said earlier.
“It is a false dream,” Medea repeated, her voice pouring like warm honey to sooth away harshness. “No one harmed Phrixos. He was beloved of us all, as are his sons.”
Orpheus frowned slightly and Eurydice bit her lip as Medea smiled. But Medea’s hand had gone out to touch Jason’s, and his attention seemed fixed on her too firmly to notice the uneasiness around him.
“But as I said before in the audience chamber,” Medea continued, smiling a little more broadly into Jason’s eyes, “it is not within my father’s power to give or withhold the fleece. It is guarded by a huge serpent, created or drawn to the fleece by my father who, most generously, gave authority over the serpent to Phrixos. When Phrixos died, his control over the beast failed, of course, and now no one has complete power over it.”