Still Waters

by Marilyn Todd

‘If you’re resorting to flattery, it must be bad.’ Did he feel the shiver that ran down her body?

  ‘Uh-uh.’ His voice was more gravelly than ever and his breathing was rough. ‘I would never even have considered the possibility, but you’re right. The drag marks leading down to the river. A dead body is heavy.’

  ‘Too heavy for a woman to pick up.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he whispered. ‘Gregos’ killer was also his mistress.’

  The stars began to spin, but so what? Locked together under the canopy, she clenched her hands into fists.

  ‘Were you faithful?’ she asked.

  She felt his breath in her hair. The breath smelled of mint. ‘Were you?’

  He was right, it was none of her business. Then his mouth closed over hers, and Gregos and gold became lost in desire. The stars turned somersaults. She didn’t care.

  *

  In that high, windswept pass in the Macedonian hills, beside that rocky, rushing stream, the commander of the caravan prepared to be relieved. As expected, nothing had happened during his watch. His ears ached somewhat, from straining in the blackness, but all he’d heard was the occasional shuffle from one of the pack animals, a couple of snorts, and their strong, acid scent on the breeze.

  In another few hours, they’d be at the posting station on the Lake of Light, with the riskiest part of the journey behind them. Bandits rarely attacked a major trade route. Especially one patrolled by Spartan hoplites.

  Above him, the thin silver fingernail that was the new moon drifted across the star-studded sky. Pulling his cloak round him against the cold of the mountains, he noted Pegasus cantering towards the southern horizon. Hercules brandishing his club. The Dragon. The Pole Star. The Milky Way, of course. Once, he heard a faint slide of rocks from the other side of the outcrop, but this was followed by silence. He’d listened. Waited. An hour passed, maybe two, but who knows what creatures paced these dark, foreign hills?

  Satisfied at a watch well kept, he saluted his replacement.

  It was just unfortunate that when dawn broke, rosy and clear, over the mountains behind them, the replacement was lying face down in the dust. Shot through the neck with an arrow.

  Sixteen

  For the second morning running, Iliona woke up to find her vision blurry and a brain that matched. Squinting, she could just about make out the painted frescoes on the wall. The crumpled damask spread across the bed. The sunlight slanting through the open window across the oak floor. The only trouble was, these were not her frescoes. This was not her floor.

  And this was most definitely not her bed.

  ‘Good morning,’ a voice beside her rumbled.

  Shit. She lifted the covers.

  ‘If you’re wondering what happened last night, the answer’s nothing,’ Lysander said, cracking his knuckles. ‘As you’ve just found out for yourself, you’re fully dressed.’

  ‘Then what—?’ The last thing she remembered was spinning stars.

  ‘I’m a hot-blooded Cretan banker, Iliona. Can I help it if the High Priestess of Eurotas finds me irresistible?’

  She didn’t understand, but then he did not expect her to. In fact, he was more than happy to explain.

  ‘Hector introduced us. We got on well. So well, in fact, you drew me aside to whisper sweet nothings in my ear long before the dance, and then afterwards you led me into the woods.’ He shrugged. ‘At least, that’s the way I remember it.’

  ‘I’m sure you remembered it to many people, too.’

  ‘Boys will be boys,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Of course, adding a certain something to your wine helped my cause.’

  ‘And here’s me thinking it was the narcotic-laden smoke.’

  ‘That was just a mood enhancer. Not strong enough to knock your legs from under you.’ He rolled off the bed, where he’d been lying fully clothed on the coverlet, and walked over to the window. ‘Though to be frank, I’ve had worse missions in my time than propping you against a tree trunk in the dark.’

  If that was a compliment, he could bloody whistle.

  ‘You set me up.’

  ‘I warned you. Betrayal is everywhere. ’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You should know better than to trust me, Iliona.’

  Lesson learned, and how else could her veil have worked loose? Tossed in plain sight, no doubt, so everyone would remark on the high priestess and the banker trotting off into the woods.

  ‘Do you mind telling me why you found it so necessary to demolish my reputation?’

  ‘Apart from giving us an excuse to be seen together?’

  ‘Absolutely. I mean, since I couldn’t keep my hands off you last night, why should today be any different. I meant the real reason.’

  He scratched at the stubble that had formed on his jaw. ‘Let’s call it redressing the balance.’

  That was one way to diffuse the power of this so-called curse, she supposed. Shameless hussies aren’t taken quite so seriously as eminent priestesses.

  ‘Remind me to thank you some time.’

  ‘No rush. Any time you like.’ Contrition was not in the Krypteia’s handbook. ‘Though during a romantic stroll by the lake might be an opportune moment.’

  That’s right. Make the affair as public as possible. ‘I suppose the word no is out of the question?’

  ‘It didn’t seem to be the case last night, and, as all the servants will be able to testify, you were in no rush to leave this morning. Shall we say mid-morning, by the jetty?’

  ‘I only hope I can contain myself that long.’

  And to think she’d wanted him, too. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered his body hard against hers, and she quickly reached down for her sandals to cover the blush. Purely the drugs that he’d slipped her, where dizziness, breathlessness and trembling were part of the symptoms. She slipped on her shoes. That kiss, though… She jerked the knot tight. Except it wasn’t a kiss, was it? Merely a collision when he caught her when she passed out. Engineered from the very beginning, and all, dammit, from a few bay leaves thrown on the fire and a guard she’d stupidly dropped—

  Bay! Oil of bloody bay!

  I don’t trust him. Melisanne had been talking about Cadur. He creeps down to Dierdra’s cottage at night, I’ve seen him. Hard worker, but doesn’t speak, doesn’t mix. Even Hector has no idea where he’s from—I meant the master, of course. ’

  Hector was Melisanne’s lover! Iliona fluffed the creases out of her robe and thought, employed as his wife’s personal maid, it wasn’t hard to see how it started. Daily contact. Shared intimacies. An accidental brushing of hands.

  She remembered the straw left at a precise angle in the stables. No word had been spoken, but a message was sent. A secret message repeated many times over, explaining the station master’s frequent absences from duty and a scent robust enough to mask a perfume that Anthea would recognize straight away. Iliona also recalled the look of contentment, rather than sexual satisfaction, when Hector joined the women at the Axe God festivities.

  ‘This is no casual affair between the station master and a servant,’ she said aloud. ‘Those two are genuinely in love.’

  And love was a dangerous game.

  *

  Lisyl thought so, too. Last night, Melisanne lost no time in telling her what she’d seen when she followed Cadur after work, and Lisyl lost no time in reminding her that it was none of her damned business.

  ‘Yvorna doesn’t interfere with you and Hector—’

  ‘Not so loud,’ Melisanne had protested, even though no one could hear above the racket of those drums.

  Singing as she pounded the linens against the rocks that lined this section of the lakeshore, Lisyl decided her sister had no right to go round spying on other people. Worse than bloody Ballio she was, in fact it was a wonder she hadn’t bumped into him behind Dierdra’s cottage. Nosey bugger was always prowling somewhere, saying it was work.

  ‘You wouldn’t like it, if someone crept up on you canoodling in the store rooms.’

  ‘The differ
ence is, we’re not hurting anyone,’ Melisanne shot back. ‘But you know how Yvorna feels about Cadur, though only the gods know why. He gives me the creeps.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t know how she feels.’ And just because a bloke keeps himself to himself doesn’t make it sinister. ‘But more to the point, neither do you.’

  Wringing out Cadur’s tunic—see? not a stain in sight—she’d been half-tempted to blurt out Dierdra’s story there and then. How her husband had abandoned her with an eight-year-old son, propelling her once again as the property of her father, who promptly took over the child’s upbringing and education, even sending him away to learn a trade. Poor Dierdra. Never saw her kid again, and no matter what connotations Melisanne put on locked doors and shuttered windows, Lisyl was convinced there was no hanky-panky going on. Dierdra looked upon Cadur as a substitute for her lost son, and this she knew, because he’d told her so, and she believed him. She stretched the tunic across the rocks to dry. Hand on heart, she couldn’t say she liked the woman, and maybe that was because she didn’t really know her. Quite frankly, she didn’t want to, either, but if Dierdra wanted to keep her times with Cadur private, it was none of Melisanne’s business. Which meant that if Lisyl were to tell Melisanne Dierdra’s story, that would reduce her to the level of a fishwife herself.

  ‘You can call it looking after her interests if you like,’ she’d told her sister, ‘but Yvorna will call it snooping, and she won’t take kindly to it either way.’ Melisanne’s meddling would only drive a wedge between them, and open wounds don’t heal. ‘If there’s anything to find out, let her find it out herself,’ she’d said firmly, and that was that.

  But was it?

  Still singing softly to herself, she watched the heavy flight of a pelican heading for the islands. Every summer, a huge colony would nest out there, but once the chicks could fly, the whole lot took themselves off to the swampy end of the lake. Soon they’d be heading south for winter. Some might even have set off already.

  Anchoring the edges so it wouldn’t blow away, Lisyl turned her attention to the remainder of the linens in the pile. She’d hardly slept last night, tossing and turning, and it wasn’t from excitement at meeting Morin’s clan. In fact, most of them were blind drunk by the time she’d arrived, and she doubted they’d even remember her this morning. Instead, in between dreaming about kittens, she’d kept wondering, had Yvorna really fallen for those chiselled cheekbones and dangerous, dark eyes—?

  ‘How’s my favourite girl this morning?’ Two big hands clamped round her waist and swung her round so fast she let go of the station master’s tunic. ‘Got a kiss for me, have you?’

  ‘Morin! Shouldn’t you be working?’

  ‘Who’s going to rat me out? Cadur? He’s got his own secrets,’ he chuckled.

  Promise not to tell anybody that you’ve been up here or what you’ve seen?

  ‘Anyway, I’m not stopping,’ he said. ‘Just wanted to tell you that I’ve found somewhere special, like you asked.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that—’

  ‘Don’t go down that line again, sweetheart. You promised.’

  I’ve never asked anything of you before.

  ‘I didn’t promise, Morin. I agreed.’

  ‘Same thing.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ When you give your oath, that means something. ‘But I’ve been having second thoughts, and honestly, I’d really like to wait until my wedding night—oh, no, Hector’s tunic’s bobbing off. Can you reach it for me, love?’

  ‘Lisyl! I’d have to wade right in, and then I’ll be soaked.’

  ‘Oh, for gods’ sake, Morin,’ Yvorna called across. ‘Fetch it for her. You won’t bloody shrink.’

  He glowered at the redhead, walking towards them. Cadur was beside her, looking at the ground. Or he could be watching through that stupid, bloody fringe. You never knew with him.

  ‘I’ve got a position to uphold,’ Morin shouted back.

  ‘Not if I tell Hector I saw you throw his favourite tunic in the lake.’

  ‘You wouldn’t bloody dare!’

  ‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Shit. It was you who put glue on my stool, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You hardly ever leave it, I thought I’d save you the trouble trying.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, it’s high time someone taught you a bloody lesson, you’re getting right out of hand lately.’

  ‘Here.’

  While they’d been trading insults, Cadur had waded in and retrieved the station master’s tunic, and Lisyl felt her cheeks burning in shame. For the life of her, she couldn’t see how an incident this small had blown up out of all proportion, but that was Yvorna for you. Had to make her presence felt everywhere she went.

  ‘Good heavens, look what the cat’s dragged in,’ Yvorna laughed, as Cadur squelched across the stones.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lisyl said.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Come on, you.’ Yvorna grabbed his arm. ‘Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.’

  Lisyl watched them run up the track, her sister laughing and tossing her red curls over her shoulder, Cadur bending down to whisper something in her ear. That’s what it should be all about. Fun and games. So why did Lisyl feel uneasy? They made a handsome couple, Yvorna’s blatant sex appeal, good humour and open, easy manner tempered by Cadur’s brooding intensity and economy of speech—

  ‘Any excuse to get a bloke out of his clothes,’ Morin muttered.

  The anxiety sharpened as she pictured them rolling naked in the hay. Was that his secret? she wondered. Was the hayloft the special place where he took Yvorna? Was that why he made her promise not to tell about the kittens, because he didn’t want her sister to know Lisyl had been up there, too?

  It’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened, you wait.

  She watched the way his tunic hung loose on his wiry frame. The lazy way he walked.

  It’ll open up a world of pleasure beyond your imagination.

  Maybe Melisanne and Yvorna were right. Maybe sexual freedom was better than clinging to principles for no decent reason, and for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t like Morin was just passing through. In a few weeks, she’d be marrying him for better for worse until death did them part. What did it matter when you gave up your cherry?

  You won’t regret this.

  Damn right. ‘Where?’ she asked. ‘Where’s this special place you found?’

  ‘There.’ He didn’t even notice that she’d changed her mind again, but pointed to the circular wooden shrine perched high on the hilltop. ‘Special place for my own special goddess,’ he said gently. ‘Tonight, Lis. Tonight, when the moon rises, we’ll make love for the first time looking over the lake. There’s no better spot to dedicate your virginity, trust me.’

  Tonight? Bit soon, wasn’t it? She’d have liked time to prepare for this moment…oh, what the hell. Yvorna and Melisanne didn’t make such a fuss.

  Just get the bloody thing over and done with.

  *

  This time, Iliona opted for the sweat-bath, a small, circular, windowless chamber in which rocks from the fire pit outside were carried in on pitchforks and placed in a central tray. Water ladled over the hot rocks created steam, with branches of juniper, pine and laurel thrown on for their therapeutic properties. This followed a hot peppermint infusion to encourage sweating, and though an hour in the vapour room didn’t quite live up to the attendant’s exhortations that it would make her feel ten times better, it was just the tonic that Iliona needed. The slow release of resins cleared her mind as well as her nostrils. Either that, or the icy water of the plunge pool.

  ‘What I like to do,’ Dierdra said, ‘is give my patients a good rub down before the massage with a rough, dry sponge. It opens up the pores and gets the circulation going, but I’ll be gentle round that wound there, it looks nasty.’ She scrubbed the rest of Iliona as if she was a stain. ‘How did you get it?’

  Gossip’s the lifeblood of this posting
station.

  ‘I slipped and cut myself. Silly, really.’

  ‘Accidents happen, and they change your life in an instant.’ She settled her client on the massage table. ‘Take one of the grooms. Lovely lad he was, just larking around one day last summer, when he fell out of the hayloft, cracked his skull like an egg. Such a shame.’

  She moved across to the shelf, selected half a dozen oils and blended them.

  ‘Still, if that was strange, it was nothing compared to that lady groom the station master hired in his place. I mean, honestly! A lone woman in the stables with all those men? No wonder she upped and left last week without giving Hector any warning. I’d have done the same thing in her place.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know the details… Now this blend’s just the ticket after a heavy night, milady. Hyssop oil, with cypress, marjoram and a dash of sandalwood and I know you’re not tense, but this’ll make sure you stay that way. I’ll just warm them up, then we’ll let Dierdra’s oils work their magic.’

  It was obvious she hadn’t a clue what provoked the woman groom into leaving suddenly. Just a tasty titbit to drop into the conversation, in the same way she’d been fishing to find out how Iliona acquired her wound. But in being passed on, every story changed a little in the telling. How many times did it need to be told before it changed out of all recognition? And in a small, isolated community such as this, what consequences would such a mutation have?

  For the first time, Iliona felt a pang of pity for the masseuse. Lying on the black slate bench, surrendering to the slap-slap-slap of expert hands, she thought of the army of ageing admirers deceived by blonde hair tortured into girlish ringlets, their collective eyesight no doubt too short to see beyond the thick layer of kohl to the crows’ feet beneath. Lonely men saw only what they wanted to see. The lamb and not the mutton. Yet Dierdra was isolated, too. Yvorna seemed to be her only friend, Cadur a stand-in for the son she’d been forced to give up because of unjust laws, work her only true companion.

  ‘I like to start at the fingertips, firm strokes going upwards, a lighter one coming down.’

  ‘Mmmm.’