by Emily Hauser
‘But, Atalanta—’
I galloped off, my head bent against the storm, heading as fast as I could back down along the muck-mired banks of the Phasis.
I rode for many hours, pushing my horse as fast as he would go and taking as few breaks for rest as I could, until the sweat was foaming white upon his flanks. Rain sliced through the air to either side of me, like silver needles, while thunder crashed overhead, and though I rode hidden beneath the cover of the trees, following the winding course of the Phasis down the valley, the storm did not abate, lowering thunderclouds rolling overhead as if an endless storm had settled itself over the land of mortals and was raining upon us the never-ceasing displeasure of the gods.
And, still, there was no sign of Jason.
As the darkness deepened around me and day slid into evening, I reached at last the woods just above the cove where I had awoken many days before, wounded, upon the shore – where Jason had summoned the lords and sent me into exile. I slowed to a halt, dismounted and secured my horse to a tree, stroking his nose as he snorted into the damp air. Raindrops splashed upon the leaves and thunder rumbled in the distance over the foaming of the swollen river, and the scent of moss filled the air. The light was fading fast, the outlines of the trees darkening, and I shivered, the hairs on my arms standing on end. The clothes Dedali had given me were soaked and clinging to my skin, yet there was no time to warm myself.
I began to run, slipping over the uneven branches and rocks of the forest floor, barely able to see, breath coming quickly, down towards the riverbank and to the bay with its stretch of sand. The edge of the forest was ahead – I could see the dark-blue twilit sky flashing between the trunks of the trees …
And then the branches cleared, and the open ground began to slope away towards the river, scattered with grass and rushes towards the wide, curving beach.
It was empty.
A single trough, cut deep into the sand and running down to the water, showed where the keel of a boat had been.
I collapsed upon my knees by the river’s edge. I was cold to my bones and pushed to the very edge of exhaustion, after a full night and day of riding in gales and chilling rain. Far worse was the knowledge that I had, at the very last, been defeated. That Jason had won, where I had not.
That I had failed to recover the Fleece, after all that I had done and tried to do.
I do not know how long I knelt upon that shore, sobbing, the tears upon my cheeks mixing with the deluge of rain from the skies. The desolation and loneliness were beyond any I had ever felt before. I was a thousand leagues and more from my home. I had been defeated, outstripped by Jason at the very last. I had lost the only chance I had ever had to prove my worth.
And worst, worst of all, I had failed my family, my friend and my gods.
They trusted me to aid their city – my city. And I have failed them.
I have failed them all.
I never should have left.
I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms, weeping freely, great sobs that caught in my throat and made my chest heave.
That was a dark night indeed.
At last, shaking with cold and grief, the tears and the rain dripping from the end of my nose, my tunic sticking to my skin, I seemed to come to myself. I needed to find shelter if I was not to perish, here and now, from the chill damp that was pervading my body. I pushed myself, trembling, to my feet, felt the raw ache in my thighs and back from the ride, the bruising soreness in my hips, and started, slowly, limping, to make my way back up to the thicket where my horse waited.
Then I stopped.
The sound of hoof beats was echoing along the valley, just audible over the splattering rain: the dull thud of hoofs in mud. Ignoring the pain in my legs, I broke into a run, fast as I could, making for the shelter of the trees. My horse was cropping moss and raised his head, ears pricked. He gave a soft whinny as I ran towards him.
‘Hush, hush,’ I whispered, taking his reins in my hand and gently stroking his nose, trying to silence my ragged breathing.
The hoof beats were growing louder now, so loud they must be almost upon us. Very quietly, as softly as I could, I backed deeper into the cover of the trees, pulling at my steed’s reins, trying not to make a sound upon the fallen leaves and twigs, silently drawing my bow from behind me and nocking an arrow …
And then the hoof beats stopped, quite abruptly, and there was the sound of boots landing in mud and the scraping of a sword in its scabbard. I peered through the low branches of the pines, string pulled taut, the wood of the arrow’s shaft smooth against my cheek.
‘Hippomenes!’ I hissed, stepping out from behind the trees. He turned at the sound of my voice, his eyes sweeping the dark pillars of the tree trunks until he found the two glinting pinpricks of my eyes. I moved towards him, lowering my bow. ‘What in Hades’ name are you doing here?’
He did not answer, but drew his sword and searched the glade. When he seemed satisfied we were not being watched, he turned back to me and sheathed his blade.
‘The bay is empty,’ he said, his voice tight, teeth gritted. He swore and thumped the palm of his hand upon the trunk of a nearby tree. ‘The Argo is gone. I assume,’ he shot towards me, ‘you were too late to board it and beg passage back to Greece.’
I stared at him. ‘If you think that is why I came,’ I began, tightening my grip upon my bow.
‘Is it not?’
I looked aside, refusing to answer. Now that my frustration had subsided a little I was thinking more clearly, and there were far more pressing matters ahead.
‘The mark in the sand from the keel is fresh,’ I muttered to myself. I looked up at the sky through the trees. It was fast darkening now beneath the veil of night. ‘The Argo cannot be far out to sea yet, and in this weather …’
The beginnings of a plan were forming in my mind. With such a storm the progress of the Argo must be slow, at least at first … and if they are forced to stop once more, as we were in Kytoros …
‘If I change horses often,’ I said, ‘I could cover ten or fifteen leagues each day. Following the coastline back to Pagasae would be easy … and … yes …’
It might just be possible to reach Pagasae before Jason. And if I do … I realized the full implications of what lay before me, and felt the same determination that had driven me for so many weeks rise up within me again. I will stand upon the shore and challenge him to a duel to the death.
He will have to accept upon his honour before the heroes.
The Fleece will go to the winner, and with it, the kingship of the towns of Pelion.
I looked at Dedali’s horse, the reins slack in my hands, and though my thighs ached at the thought I knew, instinctively, that it was my only hope. I hesitated at the prospect of taking the horse further, when I had promised to set him free; then vowed I would send him back as soon as I could get a change of mount.
I glanced at last towards Hippomenes, his face shadowed in the darkness, and saw the intensity of his gaze upon me. ‘Are you saying what I think you are?’ he asked at last, breaking the silence. ‘That you are planning to ride back to Greece – alone?’
There was no way I could deny it. ‘Yes.’
He took a step forwards, as if to lay a hand upon my arm, but I moved away. ‘That is impossible. You know enough of the wilds of our journey here to be sure that you would never survive it alone.’
‘I thank you,’ I said, moving to untie the reins of my horse, ‘for your conjectures upon my survival, but,’ I tugged at the knot, ‘I believe I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’ The knot was proving harder than I had thought to loosen. I frowned and cleared my throat, determined not to let Hippomenes see my discomfort. ‘And I do not need the assistance – of a companion of Jason and Meleager.’
At the last word, the reins slipped free and hung limply in my hands. I turned to face him.
‘I have no doubt as to that,’ he said, and his stare – open and frank – unsettled m
e; it would have been easier if he had mocked me. I tried to keep my features arranged in what I hoped was a defiant look. ‘But you will not be safe from Jason and the other lords if I am not there to answer for you. And in any case …’ he moved to his horse and, with one swift movement – exceptionally graceful, I thought, for a man so broad about the shoulders and so tall – he swung a leg over the animal’s back to mount ‘… I must return to Greece myself.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like? I am coming with you.’
‘You are not.’
I laid a hand on my horse’s neck and pulled myself up to sit on the rug, then wrapped the reins around each hand. As I tugged on the bridle he tossed his forelock back and snorted gently, as if in anticipation of the journey ahead.
Hippomenes flicked his reins beside me, his steed stepping nervously from side to side and shaking its mane. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am. I would not let even a man do that journey alone.’
‘Well, I am not a man,’ I said, digging my heels in and starting forwards at a walk towards the river’s bank, away from the dank, mossy darkness of the forest. ‘And I do not need help, especially from you.’
And with that, I turned downriver, and galloped out from under the shelter of the trees into the night, towards the plains of Anatolia, and back to Greece.
The Return
The River Phasis
The Hour of the Stars
The Thirteenth Day of the Month of the Grape Harvest
It was deep night, so dark that I could hardly see when I pulled up to rest later, my skin freezing from the rain, my horse’s flanks shining with sweat and water. I had followed the turbulent river all the way to where it emptied into the sea. By the flashes of lightning, which occasionally set the sky alight, I could make out the meadows surrounding the river’s mouth, which we had seen when we first touched land. The long grass was now flattened with rain and the reed beds turned into swampy marshes. The ocean was seething, roaring waves plunging into the coast and sending spray shooting up towards the sky, the wind howling about my ears. I moved to take shelter beneath a copse of beeches not far from the shore, their leaves dripping rain and their branches swaying in the tempest. I dismounted, limbs riddled with pain, and reached behind me for my bow, hands slipping on the oiled cloth as I unwrapped the ox-gut and strung it. There must be some game to be had here, I thought, and my stomach rumbled as if in answer. I could barely remember when I had eaten last.
As I began to tie my horse to a bough of the nearest tree, however, I was stopped short by the sound of hoof beats over the marshes, splashing in the rain.
I turned. Hippomenes was approaching, his hair streaming water, his cloak gathered around him. For all his bedraggled appearance, he was smiling. ‘You are a fast rider,’ he called to me. ‘I almost thought I would lose you.’
Irritation rose within me, prickling in my belly. ‘What are you doing here?’
He dismounted without a word, landing upon the sodden grass, and led his steed over to me, head bowed. He tethered it, then ducked out again from beneath the shelter of the leaves, back into the rain and towards the woods that lined the meadow’s edge.
When he returned, it was with handfuls of sour berries, roots and a few wild mushrooms, gasping for breath in the cold. I was sitting beside one of the trees, wet, hungry and bad-tempered, my bow safely returned to my quiver upon my back, my knees tucked into my chest, trying to rub some warmth into my arms.
‘It is too damp for a fire,’ he said. ‘Here.’ He handed me a cluster of berries and a long-stemmed mushroom.
‘I – I don’t—Thank you,’ I said stiffly, too hungry to refuse. I bit into the mushroom, relishing its sweet, earthy taste. Rainwater trickled down my chin, and I wiped it away with my forearm. ‘Though I could have gone myself.’
‘I know.’
There was silence for a moment, except for the drumming of the rain upon the earth, the pounding and crashing of the waves.
Then Hippomenes turned to me. ‘Atalanta—’
But I had flung my berries to the ground and covered his mouth with my hand.
He pulled me off. ‘What—’
‘Armed riders,’ I hissed, my voice barely a whisper. ‘Over there. In the forest.’
I pointed across the meadow. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, lining the leaves of the distant trees with silver and silhouetting a small group of men mounted upon horses and carrying short, sharp-tipped spears. They were emerging from beneath the branches at the wood’s edge. A second lightning flash showed them cantering towards us. I could see the leader not fifty paces away, the distance closing every moment. He was leaning back and had one hand upon the reins.
I barely had time to scramble to my feet, and ran for my horse as Hippomenes picked up his spear. I had just swung myself up when the leader approached us, swaying slightly in the saddle. His eyes were on the bow upon my back and the sword at Hippomenes’ waist, and he snarled something at us in his own language. The other men closed around him, spears held aloft. As another burst of lightning illuminated the razor-sharp tips, I swallowed, my mouth dry.
‘We are friends,’ Hippomenes said, walking slowly towards the leader, drawing his sword from his scabbard and laying it on the drenched grass. ‘Friends,’ he repeated, holding up his bare palms in the rain. ‘If you let us go,’ he pointed at our horses, ‘we will not harm you.’
He gestured towards his sword, then back towards the bandit leader.
As the leader turned and held a muttered conversation with his companions, I leant towards Hippomenes. ‘They want our arms and our mounts,’ I hissed in his ear. ‘We should have fled when we first saw them.’
Hippomenes held up a hand to silence me and I bit my lip, annoyed almost beyond bearing that he was there, that I was not doing this alone. ‘Wait for a moment,’ he said. ‘If we keep our heads, we may be able to avoid a fight.’
My eyes were drawn to the leader, his profile revealed in the lightning that sparked upon the horizon. His long hair was loose over his shoulders, and he wore a cap and trousers of leather, and a wide war-belt about his tunic, made of animal skin and fitted with hooks from which hung all manner of deadly swords and daggers. A double-headed axe swung from his right hip, a small curved bow and open quiver from a loop on his left. He was gesturing to our weapons, then to Hippomenes, then to our horses. The tone of his voice did not seem to suggest reconciliation.
Then, out of nowhere, an arrow grazed my cheek, the blade whistling over my skin, and buried itself into the tree behind me. I cried out, one hand raised to my stinging face, and stared through the darkness. Shadows were materializing in the distance behind the riders, looming larger, mounted upon steeds, their bows raised …
‘There are more of them!’ I shouted. ‘Hippomenes, watch—’
Hippomenes turned at my cry, and behind him I saw the leader leap from his horse, long sword drawn and held before him in both hands.
‘Hippomenes!’
Just in time, Hippomenes whirled around, bent to pick up his sword and parried the bandit’s blow from beneath, bronze shrieking on bronze, the blades glimmering in another brilliant flare of lightning branding the sky overhead. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest, desperately unsure what to do as I watched the leader bring his sword down again through the rain with enough speed to split Hippomenes’ skull. I gasped: Hippomenes had rolled swiftly to one side, bringing his sword around, and then he was springing to his feet and thrusting the blade forwards, his whole strength in the blow, burying it deep in the man’s chest. A piercing shriek of agony from the leader rent the air as he sank to the ground. Blood was pouring from the wound into the earth, and the whites of his eyes shone in the darkness. Hippomenes wrenched his sword out with a terrible wet squelch and a final scream of pain, followed by a roar of rage from the other bandits.
‘Move! We have to move!’
Arrows were hailing down upon us now through the darkness, coming f
rom nowhere and thudding into the sodden ground. Hippomenes was already vaulting onto his horse as I turned away, half blinded by panic, head down, whipping the reins and screaming at my horse to move. Behind me I could hear the thunder of Hippomenes’ hoofs, and close behind that the pounding of the riders, yelling and cursing, chasing us. Lightning split the air ahead, exploding the landscape into a sudden burst of light, thunder rumbling so loudly that it made the bones of my ribs tremble.
I twisted in my saddle, my hair flying out in the screaming wind and rain, and saw the bandits closing upon us, galloping across the sodden, marshy terrain. I pushed my horse on, kicking harder, slapping at his neck, but he was struggling in the clinging damp earth and it was slowing him. Hippomenes was directly beside me now, his steed kicking up large clods of soil, its mouth open, nostrils flared as the rain poured down its nose, flanks heaving.
A spear hissed past my right ear.
‘Down! Get your head down!’ Hippomenes shouted, and I ducked close to the horse’s neck, barely able to see anything, my head jolting up and down as we galloped over the rough terrain.
‘If we can reach the woods ahead, we have a chance of losing them!’ he bellowed, as another spear shot overhead, followed by a storm of arrows.
I leant forwards, squinting through the rain, scanning the outline of the forest three hundred paces distant, which curved down to meet the sea, bordering the grassy plains of the river mouth. The trees seemed to grow thickly together, branches knotted into each other, tall tips reaching to the lowering sky.
‘Can we reach it in time?’
He twisted to peer over his shoulder. The bandits were galloping at full speed not forty paces behind, and in another burst of light I saw three who still had their spears holding them high at their shoulders, aiming towards us. ‘Can you use your bow while you ride?’