by Emily Hauser
His eyes were boring into mine with an intensity that almost frightened me, a mixture of greed and desire, and for a moment I thought I saw the sensual mouth curl up in a triumphant sneer – as if the huntsman had cornered his prey at last. But then it was gone, and he extended the cup to me, all smiles and courtesy. I took it from him, my fingertips brushing against his and sending a charge shivering through my body. I looked up into his eyes, my lips parting with a mixed rush of confusion and, to my intense embarrassment, a flush rising to my cheeks.
‘A ritual gift,’ Hippomenes said, from somewhere beside us. I blinked and looked at him. His voice was clipped. ‘An offering of love, made formal in the petition of three gifts. Is that not the way of things, in Crete? A triad of offerings from the lover to his beloved: a breastplate, an ox and a drinking cup?’
I stared at him. I could feel Myrtessa’s eyes upon me, sense her sudden stillness.
‘Y-yes. Yes, indeed, it is,’ I said. I glanced up at Meleager, my thoughts a whirl of fear and confusion, and felt my heart skip a little at the intensity of his gaze, like heat upon my face.
If Meleager finds out who I am, what will he say?
I lowered my eyes.
But he desires me, a fiercer voice said. He desires me. Perhaps he would not care. Perhaps he would want me for who I am.
‘Master?’ Myrtessa’s voice cut across my thoughts like a whip. ‘May I speak with you a moment? There is an urgent matter of business I would ask your opinion of – something that cannot wait.’
I hesitated, still holding the cup cradled in my hands.
‘Yes – yes, very well, Dolius,’ I said at last, and pushed the cup back into Meleager’s hands. ‘Please carry it back to the Argo for me. I will see you both at the ship,’ I said, nodding to Hippomenes and Meleager.
Then I left, without looking at either of them.
‘What by all the gods do you think you are doing?’
Myrtessa slammed the door of the chamber behind her and faced me. She had led me into a tavern beside the marketplace. It was respectable enough, fronted with a long countertop serving ale and honeyed sesame buns to passers-by, leading behind into a low-ceilinged bar scattered with stools and, at the back, a few private chambers for the wealthier customers. Myrtessa had made me toss one of my bronze coins to the barman, then pulled me into the room: a small, shabby chamber with a low couch with a few tasselled cushions and a couple of rickety chairs. From the smell of the room, a faint mixture of cheap perfume and sweat, it was clear that at night it served as a place for the merchants of the town who could afford a private rendezvous to take their pleasure with the girls of Kytoros.
She was standing before me, glaring. ‘Well?’
I stood my ground. ‘I have done nothing.’
She threw her hands to the ceiling. ‘You swore to me you would not fall for him! You said to me that you were not one to lose your wits over a man! Is this nothing? A cup – then a touch upon the hand, a kiss behind the rocks upon the shore and then he will have you and we will both be ruined!’
‘I have not fallen for him,’ I said calmly. ‘There were a few moments, I admit, where I felt a desire for his touch, but you know as well as I that I would never let him take me if I did not think he could be trusted with our secret. There is a difference,’ I glanced around the room in which we stood, thinking of all the men and women who had lain together there, ‘between feeling the pulse of desire and acting upon it.’
‘Yet you accepted his gift.’
‘What else could I do?’ I spread my hands wide. ‘I did not know as well as you that it was a lover’s gift till Hippomenes said so, and I could hardly pretend to ignorance, could I, when the custom itself is supposed to come from Crete?’
‘I warned you against him,’ she said. ‘I told you he is violent in his desires and a libertine, for all that he looks like a young and careless god.’
‘And I am grateful for your warning. Yet have I not said already I will be careful?’
She paused, clearly searching for some other criticism to level at me. Her eyes swivelled towards me, and I could see the glimmer of a laugh in her face, suppressed with difficulty. ‘You were blushing as red as a milkmaid.’
I raised my eyebrows and surveyed her coolly. ‘A milkmaid, you say?’
With a single flick of my wrist I drew the dagger from my belt and flung it across the room, my whole body behind it, the bronze blade sharp as a razor. It flew in a blur, missing Myrtessa’s right ear by a hair’s breadth, and buried itself, handle quivering, in the wooden planks of the wall.
Myrtessa raised a hand to her ear to check she was unscathed, then turned on me. ‘You could have killed me!’
I grinned at her. ‘But I did not.’
She glared at me, eyebrows contracted, mouth tight. I held her gaze, unflinching.
‘Oh, very well,’ she said at last, giving up and waving a hand towards me. ‘I will not call you a milkmaid again. But I will say that you blushed.’ She slid her eyes sideways at me again and her mouth twitched. ‘It is as well you have not fallen for him, as you say,’ she arched an eyebrow, ‘for if you had, you should remember that if he tries to have his way with you – which, knowing Meleager, he will do, whether you be maid or man – then,’ her expression became graver, ‘we will both be discovered, and we know that there is only one penalty for lying to the king, deceiving the prince, and joining the expedition in the guise of a man. Death.’
There was a pause as we weighed each other up.
‘Do you swear you will take this no further?’ she asked.
I nodded. ‘Unless I have good reason – I swear.’
‘Unless you have good reason?’ Her voice was wry again. ‘You sound like one of the king’s heralds – always covering himself at the end of each treaty and summons in case one day the king chooses to disobey his own laws.’
I laid a hand upon her arm. ‘I do not know what the future holds, Myrtessa,’ I said. ‘It may be that Meleager may be of use to us,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘but I shall always be your friend and your ally, and I would never – never – willingly do anything to put you in danger.’
At last she subsided. She sank down onto the thin couch, making the cushions bounce up and down a little. ‘Very well,’ she said, changing tack as fast as a skiff in a storm. ‘Very well. What about it, then?’
‘What about what?’
She snorted. ‘The future. We have made it this far but,’ she tossed her head, ‘what of when we get to Colchis? What …’ she said, then lowered her voice to the merest thread of sound ‘… of the Fleece? Have you thought any more about how you plan to take it before Jason and his men – let alone how we shall return to Greece?’
I had, in fact, been thinking of little else the past few weeks – ever since Jason had revealed his terrible ambitions against my home – since the nightmares of Kaladrosos burning and my family’s pleading to me had begun.
I cleared my throat and looked down at my hands. ‘I came on this voyage to prove my worth to the king,’ I said. ‘To fulfil the prophecy, and to prove that he should not have abandoned me upon the mountain. That I was worth more than that. If I am truly honest,’ I saw my smile reflected upon her lips, ‘and I do want to be honest with you, Myrtessa, I came, too, to engage in a heroic quest, to have an adventure. I wished for more than the quiet life I had been given in Kaladrosos. But I have seen for myself Jason’s cruelty – I have felt it,’ I said, and I extended the palms of my hands towards her, where the stretched red marks of Jason’s strap could still be seen. ‘I heard his plans to ravage the towns and villages of the bay in war. I cannot let people like you, Neda, Philoetius and Lycon fall under his cruel rule – for what might he do to you and all the others? If Jason’s ambitions truly extend to all the cities of Mount Pelion, then who can say that my family in Kaladrosos will be safe?’ I swallowed, thinking of my father splitting logs with his axe beside the house, my mother gathering apples from the orchards into her apron. I
imagined the cloud of dust rising to the skies and the shuddering of the earth as Jason’s army descended the flanks of the mountain, their bronze weapons rattling and their war cries drowning the pounding of the sea. I saw the terror on my mother’s face as she gathered Maia and Corycia in her arms and fled to the shelter of the house … ‘Perhaps I am meant to capture the Golden Fleece, not to prove to the king that I am his daughter but to save the kingdoms of Pelion from Jason.’
I turned to Myrtessa, breathing hard. Her whole face was alight, her eyes burning with pride.
‘It truly was a day blessed by Zeus when you broke through the gates of Pagasae, Atalanta,’ she said, with a laugh, and sprang to her feet. ‘I am with you! We shall recover Pagasae from Jason and free Neda and Philoetius, Hora, Opis and your family, from his rule!’ She hesitated. ‘And yet, still, there is one thing remaining …’
‘The Golden Fleece,’ I said. ‘Exactly.’
There was a pause, in which the faint sounds of the marketplace beyond floated to us through the high narrow window above. I felt strangely calm and filled with purpose, my mind clearer than it had been in weeks. It was as if I had been pursuing a path, imagining it would take me towards what I thought I desired, and now I had discovered that in fact it ended elsewhere – and that that was precisely where I was meant to go.
I frowned, leaning forwards. ‘I have been considering it,’ I said at last. ‘And I believe I cannot plan more until I know for sure where the Fleece is hidden.’
‘It is said that the Fleece is guarded by—’
‘I know what the legends say,’ I interrupted. I stood and began to pace up and down the small chamber, kicking up small clouds of dust from the floor that sparkled in the light slanting down from the window. ‘I told you before that the legends are fabrications, told for children. When have you ever seen a serpent that never sleeps? Or a bull with hoofs of bronze? Or a flying ram?’
‘But—’
‘No,’ I continued, filled with a new determination. My heart felt light as a sycamore seed upon the summer wind: there might be something I could do for Kaladrosos, for the cities of Pelion, after all, and it was driving me on, filling me with renewed energy. ‘We need to think where the king of Colchis would hide something as valuable to him as – whatever the fleece of gold is,’ I said, stalling Myrtessa’s interruption. ‘A ram’s wool cloak, perhaps, dyed gold. Or a golden breastplate emblazoned with Poseidon’s ram. If I were king,’ I said, continuing to pace, biting my lip as I thought, ‘I would hide it either in a treasury, deep within the palace, guarded by sentries, most likely, or in a place that was unreachable – the top of a cliff that cannot be climbed or – or the depths of a lake. The guards I could deal with – but if it is hidden too well …’ I shook my head.
‘I cannot plan until I know for sure where the Fleece is located. As for the return, now that is easier,’ I said, turning to face her. ‘We cannot go back by ship with the rest of the lords if I succeed in stealing the Fleece – that much is certain. The only option remaining to us, then, is to travel on horseback, riding by day and resting at night. I have been following the coastline as we have sailed the Ocean beyond the Bosphorus – we have never been too far from the shore – and it is good terrain for riding. I have heard the Anatolian horses are swift and strong. If we change mounts at towns like this one we should be able to make good speed.’
Myrtessa grinned. ‘I suppose it would be foolish of me to ask if there is anything I can do to help, since you have everything already planned.’
I shrugged. ‘I work better alone,’ I said.
She flopped back upon the cushions, picking at one of the tassels.
‘One thing, though, I have noticed – during our journey,’ I continued.
Myrtessa raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, yes?’
I considered carefully. ‘There seem to be two factions among the lords,’ I said. ‘Nothing open – nothing that could be observed without several weeks spent at their side. But there seem to be some who are entirely for Jason, who respect his authority and his orders, and then there are others who, though on the surface they appear to respect him, beneath I sense that they baulk at his command … That, perhaps, they, too, have come to know him as I have.’
‘Who? Which of the lords?’
‘Hippomenes,’ I said. ‘The tone of his voice earlier, upon the beach … And Peleus. I swear there was just a moment, upon the Argo in the storm, when Jason ordered him to desist in reaching out to Hippomenes as he drowned that Peleus’ eyes registered his contempt. And Lycon is no willing participant on the journey – he told me so himself.’
‘And how does this help us?’
I rubbed my knuckles on my forehead and sat down beside her, elbows on my knees. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, thinking hard. ‘But I cannot help but feel it may be of use to us.’
There was a sudden knock upon the door – three loud raps, followed by silence.
I started up, exchanging a nervous look with Myrtessa, and saw my panic reflected upon her own pale face.
‘I—Enter,’ I said, my throat suddenly dry.
The door was pushed open and, to my horror, Jason himself stepped over the threshold. His grey eyes swept the dim, threadbare room, and came to rest upon Myrtessa and me, seated side by side upon the couch.
‘Well, well, Telamon,’ he said, with a glimmer of a smile, though there was no warmth to it. ‘It seems that Peleus was right. You and Dolius are hardly ever to be parted, and hiding away together in such a room …’ he paused to inhale the scent of desire that hung around the pillows and the curtain upon the door ‘… well …’
I stood and bowed. ‘My lord Jason. You find Dolius and myself discussing matters relating to the running of my estate in Crete. Nothing else, I assure you.’
Jason eyed me, his lip curling in a sneer.
‘Is there something you wanted from me, my lord?’ I did my best to appear calm, though my palms were cold with sweat.
‘You are needed back at the ship,’ he replied, his tone pleasant but his eyes as hard as a pond under the grey skies of winter. ‘I came to the city with a band of men to oversee Peleus’ negotiations, and Hippomenes told me he had last seen both of you disappear in here. And we would not wish to lose you – would we?’
I inclined my head. ‘Of course, my lord. I will come, if that is what you wish. Dolius,’ I said, gesturing towards Myrtessa. She leapt to her feet at once and stood behind me, hands clasped before her, eyes downcast.
Jason’s lips curved into a smile as he looked between us, his expression inscrutable. ‘Good,’ he said, his eyes lingering upon my face. ‘Obedience – that is what we like, eh, Telamon?’
Then he turned and pushed open the door.
As I followed him, head bowed beneath the low lintel of the door, I could feel the fear throbbing in my veins and knew that, behind me, Myrtessa was thinking the same as I.
How much had Jason heard?
And what would he do to us if he knew?
Hera’s Revenge
Mount Olympus
It is the twilight moment between day and night, when the lamps in the palaces of Mount Olympus are being lit and the mortals below gaze up at the first of the twinkling stars. A soft hush has fallen over heaven, and all that can be heard is the tinkling of fountains and the piercing song of a nightingale perched upon an oak tree in the garden of Zeus’ palace. It is a perfect evening, mellow and sweet with the scent of the spring irises, the grass just tinted with drops of dew.
Hera, however, is oblivious to the peaceful scene. She has placed herself behind one of the marble columns outside the entrance to Zeus’ chambers, her robes held in one hand so that they do not show around the column’s sides, casting furtive looks towards the double cedar doors. To a casual observer it would seem for all the world as if she were – well – hiding. Hera knows that this is not the case, for the queen of the gods does not hide in shadows, like a common thief. She is … She hesitates for a moment, searching for
the right word.
Ah, yes. Redressing things. That is what she is doing.
Rectifying the balance of the universe.
Getting her revenge.
‘Aha!’
The double doors to Zeus’ rooms have opened a crack, and Hera pounces. Zeus is halfway through the doors when his wife leaps upon him, and it is all he can manage not to shout aloud.
‘Hera! What are you doing here?’ he hisses, in a voice that is both defensive and a little sheepish, holding onto the door for support. ‘If it were possible, I would say you had frightened me almost to death.’
‘Yes,’ she says, crossing her arms and glaring at him. ‘Well, you can’t have everything, can you?’
Zeus recognizes an oncoming storm when he sees one – he is the god of thunder, after all – and backs into his chambers resignedly, pulling off the travelling cloak he is wearing and tossing it under the bed. ‘To what do I owe the —’
Hera cuts him off. ‘Let’s get straight to the point, Zeus,’ she says.
‘Oh dear,’ he says. ‘The point. I’d better get myself a drink.’ He moves over to an inlaid table upon which a silver jug and two goblets are standing beside a bowl filled with ambrosia.
‘Nectar?’ he asks, pouring a glass and offering it to her.
‘No, thank you,’ she says.
Zeus takes a sip, closes his eyes for a moment as if relishing the silence, then turns with an air of inevitability to face his wife. ‘So, what is this about, Hera?’
The wife of the king of the gods eyes her husband beadily. ‘Atalanta,’ she says. ‘You’ve been favouring her. Why?’
Zeus raises his eyebrows and takes another sip with apparent enjoyment. ‘Hm. I didn’t expect that.’
‘How long have you been watching over her, Zeus?’ Hera demands, one foot tapping upon the marble floor. ‘How long have you been keeping her safe, when my back was turned?’