by Emily Hauser
I bowed my head. ‘Very well, my lord.’
We slowed to a halt, the men around me breathing hard from the climb, the dogs skittering ahead, barking loudly and baring their teeth. We had reached a wooded glade, more thickly seeded with beech than the clearing where I had killed the lions, covered with a sprawl of rock brambles and with a dense thicket of willow scrub at the centre. The branches bent over and twisted together to make such a thick covering that I doubted any rain would penetrate it. The tension in the air doubled, and I checked my grip upon my bow.
‘In there,’ Laertes said quietly, pointing towards the thicket.
‘You.’ Jason indicated the slaves. ‘The nets. Between those trees.’ He pointed to a beech and a chestnut with blossoms rising in pale columns. The slaves separated, stepping quietly over the white-flowering brambles, each holding an end of the net and looping it deftly around the trunks, securing it top and bottom with thick knots. One of the slaves tested it with his hand, then nodded once towards his master, eyes downcast, before slipping away into the shadows once more.
There was a moment of silence, penetrated only by the chattering of the birds in the branches overhead, and the sound of my own uneven breath in my ears.
Then Jason raised his arm and cried, ‘Forward!’ Hippomenes, as the tallest and strongest of the lords, lifted his javelin to his shoulder at the signal and approached the thicket with the dogs beside him, urging them on. They bayed and howled, skirting the edge of the covering. I followed with the rest, keeping a wide space between Castor to my left and Bellerophon to my right in case the boar broke and charged our line.
And then, at last, a loud, roaring grunt pierced the air. I saw Castor to my left tighten his grip upon his spear, and the familiar excitement coursed through me that only a hunt could bring. I raised and drew my bow. The shrill grunt grew louder, and then the thicket exploded and the boar charged out fifty paces distant, baited by the sounds of the dogs. Its hide was bristling, its small dark eyes gleaming as it shrieked and grunted, and at once I saw that in one respect at least I had been right: it must have equalled the weight of several large men, huge muscles tightening and loosening down its sides as it charged, hoofs thundering upon the rocks, its gaping maw open as it roared, long white tusks slashing from side to side. My hands were slippery upon my bow with fear, but I doubled my grip and blinked, pulling my fingers more firmly against the string and refusing to allow myself to listen to the thundering of my heart. Three of the dogs fell to the ground howling as their flanks were slashed by its tusks, white ivory now stained dark red with blood, and still it charged, closer, closer, twenty paces from the net, ten … And then it barrelled into the rope mesh, and the cords around the two trees pulled tight, showering leaves upon my head.
The boar was trapped.
Jason shouted with triumph and lifted his spear, aiming at the struggling animal. The boar was bellowing, twisting its head this way and that, fierce tusks of hollow ivory swiping through the air, caught in one of the net’s meshes.
I drew my hand back to my ear, and released the arrow, sending its glistening, spinning point towards the throat of the trapped beast and hitting home with a splatter of blood and a shriek from the wounded animal. But as I drew and nocked a second arrow, one of the boar’s tusks snagged on the net. A ripping, tearing, splitting sound rent the still air of the clearing, and the boar barrelled forwards, my arrow spiralling past its mark and into one of the trees behind.
‘Round! Get around!’ Hippomenes shouted, gesturing to the men to make a semicircle to entrap the boar, and I ran with them, the blades of our weapons glinting in the early light.
‘Now – run it to ground!’ he cried.
The boar was shaking its great tusks back and forth, working itself into a frenzy as it tried to loosen the deadly arrowhead buried in its throat, its tiny eyes darting from side to side, grunting. It lowered its enormous skull and began to charge through the ruined net towards us, flanks heaving, hoofs pounding. In one movement I sheathed my bow in the quiver on my back and, catching a spear Hippomenes threw me and following the lead of the other lords, planted it firmly in the ground, blade upwards, making a barbed fence around the beast, breathing hard, my face flushed with sweat.
Then the boar broke and swerved aside. There was a shrill cry from my right and the clatter of a spear upon the earth. I turned to see Lycon fling himself aside, just in time to avoid the boar’s assault. The edge of one razor-sharp tusk grazed his arm, leaving a deep gash. The prince held it to his chest, spluttering as blood dripped to the ground, then pushed himself to stand one-handed and retreated, his face pale, breathing ragged.
‘Orpheus, take care of Lycon!’ Jason snarled. A man left the circle and ran towards the prince, catching him by his good arm, then half supporting, half dragging him away beneath the cover of the trees, trailing blood. The boar was skidding around to make a second charge, hoofs digging into the earth, and we moved closer together to fill the gaps left by Lycon and Orpheus, forming a line across the clearing. I could feel the warmth of Meleager’s body pressing against mine to my right, Hippomenes’ spear-arm, tensed and ridged with muscle, on my left.
I am doing it! I thought. I almost wanted to slap myself across the face, to prove it was no dream, but knew better than to do so in the midst of the hunt. I am here, fighting side by side with the heroes of Greece – the greatest warriors the land has ever known!
I felt a sudden thrill as the boar squealed again and charged towards us, a blur of deadly bloodied tusks and bristles, hoofs flying, and tightened my grip upon my spear shaft, filled with determination. Two men, who had scrambled higher up a bank to one side, hurled their javelins down at the animal but missed, the wooden shafts clattering over the forest floor, and still it was charging, screeching and snorting, aiming directly for Jason at the centre of the line … Moments were slowing to half their usual pace as I watched Jason square his shoulders and plant his feet firm upon the ground, bronze sword held steady before him, though he must have known that there was no fighting such a brute coming towards him at full charge.
Quick as I could, I tossed my spear aside, pulled my bow from its quiver, lowered myself to kneel on the forest floor and drew the string tight to my jaw. I squinted down the arrow shaft, moving the arrow tip in a line, sighting the boar’s movement, knowing, feeling where it would be, as if the heart beating in my chest was the boar’s own.
I let the arrow fly. It whistled ahead, and I felt as if I were with it, spinning round and round, following the movement of the boar. Then there was an unearthly shriek of agony as the sharp flint tip made contact, burying itself deep in the beast’s eye. Dark-red blood was spurting from its head as the boar skidded to one side.
‘Corner it! Corner it now!’
Jason’s face was red with anger as he hurled the command, swishing his sword from side to side, cutting through the air as he ran.
‘You cost me my glory!’ he roared at me.
I ignored him, my whole being focused on the task ahead. We ran around to encircle the beast as it thrashed from side to side, leaving a trail of blood, bellowing.
‘Now!’ I yelled at him. ‘Take it now!’
Jason raised his arm above his head, holding his sword in both hands so that the tip glittered. Then, sprinting forwards, he brought his arms down, throwing his whole body into the thrust, burying the sword point first through the boar’s side, cracking the ribs with a splitting crash and piercing the heart. The boar shrieked and fell to the ground with a shudder that set the earth beneath my feet quivering. I aimed again and heard the thwack as my arrow severed the beast’s windpipe, and its squeals became a guttering, gasping sob of blood and air through its neck. Hippomenes, then Meleager, then Theseus sent their javelins flying through the air to transfix the dying animal, each determined to fell the quarry and win their glory. Blood was now pooling freely from its side as it gasped and convulsed with pain. I ran forwards.
‘Spear!’ I called, and someone
, I did not know who, placed a shaft in my hand. I reached the fallen corpse of the boar, swung the weapon upwards, up towards the sky where the sun was now shining like a beacon, white against the canopy of the leaves, then plunged it down beside the glimmering blade of Jason’s sword, between the ribs of the beast and deep into its heart. There was a final shriek of pain, and then nothing.
We had killed the boar.
We bound the boar’s legs together on the mountain, strung it up in the nets that should have caught it, lashed four thick poles together with rope, and tied the net bearing the corpse to the poles feet first. The slaves carried it over their shoulders down the mountain, while the dogs leapt and barked at it. The rest of us laughed and drank wine from leather pouches, at our ease. I had never, in all my life, felt such companionship – the sensation of being surrounded by warriors as determined as myself, hunters who knew the joys and dangers of the chase – and I was revelling in it.
That night a feast was held in the palace to celebrate our hunt. I was almost dizzy with our success, my senses still heightened, everything brighter and more colourful than it had been before. Myrtessa was allowed to attend me – I had told Jason that evening that I required my slave for personal matters, for many a lord kept a squire beside him at all times – so she was sitting on the floor at the feet of my cushioned chair, chewing the mouthfuls of meat and black olives I surreptitiously passed her in my napkin.
I was leaning forward now, talking to her in a low voice, relating the events of the day’s hunt as the nobles around us laughed – Corythus was not there, I was relieved to see – and slaves swept past us serving meat and pouring wine. She had been wryly amused by my excitement as I described each twist and turn in the killing of the boar, and was now slipping a slice of meat into her mouth, licking her fingers to catch the red-wine sauce.
‘I look forward to seeing how you fare against the serpent that guards the Fleece,’ she said. ‘I hear its teeth are as sharp as the points of whetted swords, but I suppose that will be as nothing to our Atalanta.’
‘Not so loud,’ I said through gritted teeth, though in truth no one could have heard her but I through the scraping of platters and cups, the spitting of the boar’s carcass upon the fire, and the loud talk as the lords played at dice upon small cedarwood tables. ‘Do you want us to be found out?’
But Myrtessa did not reply. She had lowered her eyes in the submissive stance of a slave, and I saw that my napkin had disappeared from her hands into the folds of her tunic.
I felt a wave of apprehension.
Jason had approached while we were talking, and was standing before me now, holding a two-handled gold cup. He had taken off his cloak in the heat of the Great Hall and was wearing a tunic of bright blue, stitched with a pattern of gold spirals upon the edges and fringed with tassels of red. A dagger, inlaid with gold and silver, gleamed at his waist. I stood to acknowledge him, Myrtessa crawling out of my way, and bowed my head.
‘My lord Jason.’
What can he want with me now?
He cannot have discovered me – can he? Not so soon?
‘You hunted well today,’ he said, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and I wondered whether he was remembering how I had kept the boar from him earlier that day. The babble and chatter in the hall died as the other lords stopped to listen. ‘You were the first to hit the boar and to draw blood. Your skill with a bow is such that I have not seen it in men twice your age.’
I felt as if I had grown taller as I looked up at him. ‘It was my honour to hunt alongside you and the other lords,’ I replied, my voice steady, though inside my heart was dancing and I was longing to break into a grin.
‘A libation to the gods in the honour of the first to wound the boar,’ King Iasus called across the hall, and the many nobles gathered there, along with the lords who had accompanied Jason on the hunt, nodded their assent. Jason tipped the goblet forwards a little and a drop of wine, red as fresh-spilt blood, dripped to the floor.
‘May the lord Zeus, whose festival we here hold, look favourably upon my prayer,’ he said. ‘May you, lord god, bring it to pass that Telamon, son of Deucalion, continues to surpass his equals with as much courage as he has shown today.’ He raised his cup.
The lords roared their approval, and the sound of clattering metal filled the air as they banged their goblets upon the tables. I felt the colour rising to my face, and inclined my head so that the lords would notice nothing.
Jason held up his hands, and the shouting and banging died down.
‘There is something else I would say,’ he said, and his grey eyes moved from mine and swept from the crowds of nobles spread throughout the banqueting hall to the ten lords seated closest to the throne, then to the straw-haired Prince Lycon and finally to the king. King Iasus nodded once.
‘My prince Lycon. My lords Meleager, Theseus, Nestor, Bellerophon, Orpheus, Peleus, Hippomenes, Castor, Pollux, Laertes,’ Jason said, turning and addressing each by name. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized what was about to happen. The atmosphere in the hall seemed to tauten like a tensed bowstring. ‘I have spoken with Argus, the shipbuilder, this day after we returned from the hunt, and I have seen our ship with my own eyes, gleaming upon the sand of the harbour, every plank honed to perfection, every stitch in the sail pulled tight. Argus assures me that he has checked over the ship once and once again, and that nothing remains to be done but to set upon our voyage.’ He placed his goblet down upon the table in a deliberate manner. ‘I believe the day has come when we may sail upon our quest.’
The gathered nobles had begun to talk in loud, excited whispers. I swallowed and kept my gaze upon him, heart beating fast. He must be about to ask me upon the quest for the Golden Fleece! Why else would he have singled me out, before all the others?
He must be about to ask me now!
Jason turned to the ten heroes and the prince. ‘Twelve of us, my lords, the twelve finest men in Greece,’ he said, picking up his goblet and raising it to them. ‘May the gods look favourably upon each one of you, and may they bring us safely back again to our women and our beds! We meet at the harbour in the morning.’
He turned and bowed to me.
I held my breath.
Now – it has to be now!
‘I look forward to hunting with you again on our return,’ he said.
And then he walked away.
That night, as the moonlight filtered through the branches of the cypress trees in the courtyard and cicadas hummed in the darkness, I lay fully dressed and awake upon the layers of fleeces and blankets that had been laid out for me. Anger coursed through me and I was unable to sleep. Myrtessa was snoring gently upon the floor, one arm flung out over the tiles of the colonnade.
I pummelled the cushion that served as a pillow and turned over to face the courtyard, where a fountain was tinkling into a basin of stone surrounded by fragrant box hedges.
Why had Jason not asked me to accompany him on the voyage for the Golden Fleece? I had proven my valour, had I not? I was dressed as a man, was I not, with a man’s strength and speed, a man’s skill at arms? He had said as much himself! What more did he require?
I twisted onto my side, rage thumping through my veins. To have come so close – so close! – yet be thwarted at this final moment! It was not simply my desire to prove my worth to the king. It was more than that … I rolled onto my back and stared up at the dark ceiling, biting back tears. I had felt, even if only for a moment, that I belonged. That I had found my purpose. That I was, at last, upon a quest with comrades at my side who held me as an equal. And my failure to be summoned to the voyage had taken all that away as, next day, Jason’s ship would slide over the waters to the east …
I sat bolt upright in the moonlight. ‘Myrtessa!’ I hissed. ‘Myrtessa!’
‘Hmm … what?’
‘You have to wake up now!’
‘I don’t … Let me sleep, Atalanta …’
But I had already got up and was pulling her
upright. She looked sleepily into my face and rubbed her eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘We’re going to the harbour,’ I said, picking up my quiver. ‘We’re going to join the quest, whether they want us to or not.’
We crept through the western edge of the city towards the gates, staying in the shadows and treading lightly down the side streets past the silent, looming facades of the houses, their shutters closed against the night’s chill, with the city wall to our right. My bow and arrows were bouncing upon my back, Corythus’ sword at my belt, his cloak swirling behind me in the faint breeze. I was looking right and left as we half ran, half walked through the darkness, alert for any movement, any sign that we might have been seen, my thoughts whirling. If we waited hidden beside the gates until Jason and his lords arrived to pass through them, we might be able to slip through behind – but there was hardly a chance that neither they nor the guards would notice us in the full light of day.
And if they saw us, we would likely be sent back to the palace – perhaps thrown from the city. From what I had heard, we might even be put to death for our insubordination.
No: there had to be another way.
We turned onto the stone-paved main street and I pressed myself flat against a column cornering a shuttered shopfront. At least three pairs of guards were patrolling the ramparts around the city – I could see their helmeted silhouettes and the tall, dark shafts of their spears outlined against the silver-blue sky.
‘What now?’ Myrtessa asked, shivering.
‘Hush! In here!’
I pulled her into the shadows of a low-hanging archway to a stable, the earthy smell of hay and horse dung filling the air. Myrtessa was rubbing her arms and her teeth were chattering: her slave’s tunic was thin and she had no cloak. I passed her mine without a word, and she clasped it around her neck with a brief murmur of gratitude.