by Marilyn Todd
Iliona watched Lysander lead three pack mules into the yard, curtly dismissing offers of help from the grooms. She heard him explain to the men of Lynx Squad that there had been a bout of late trading, resulting in extra Macedonian gold to be transported to Sparta. No one questioned Lysander’s authority. Why would they, of course.
He saw her watching and came over. ‘You are free to leave.’ He wore his army uniform of red kilt and tunic. ‘My work here is done.’
He looked tired. And his voice had more gravel than ever.
‘What about the gold thief?’
Measureless eyes looked into hers. ‘In hell.’
She wanted to ask how, but instead found herself asking, ‘Who?’
Time passed. Lips pursed into nothing. ‘We leave at daybreak,’ he said at length. ‘Lynx Squad will act as your escort.’
‘Yessir,’ she said, with a mock salute, but his expression didn’t change, and suddenly the need to be back in her own temple was overwhelming. To be among the wind chimes that danced in the plane grove. Soothed by the voice of the River God, as he gurgled over the rocks. To sleep in her own feather bed.
‘How’s the wound?’ he asked, almost as an afterthought. Except nothing escaped his attention.
‘You were right. There’s nothing like treachery, murder and ballsing up Sparta’s reputation when it comes to convalescing. I feel like a million drachmas after this break.’
In a way it was true. The stitches in her side were itching like crazy, which Jocasta assured her was a good sign. In fact, Iliona had almost forgotten the bastard who’d stabbed her.
A good physician can treat the sick anywhere.
So why did she have a feeling he only brought Jocasta along in order to protect his investment?
‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘Your work might be done, but mine isn’t.’
There was still the matter of the curse to undo.
She, too, had pride in her work.
Indoors, the house had been cleaned and purified with incense and herbs, to appease the souls of the dead. Wreaths had been hung, a vigil held over Yvorna’s ashes until the sun set, when an urn painted with octopus, fishes and reeds was interred in the cemetery half a mile out on the road heading west.
Not the gruelling ceremony of the funeral pyre. More a serene end to a chaotic beginning, for there is no relief when it comes to grief.
Only the heavy tread of the passage of time.
Which could at least be broken with some impressive theatrics! Of course, once news got out that the Oracle intended to call on the gods to lift the curse, it spread faster than this morning’s fire in the stables. Better and better. She really needed a crowd, and decided the most impact to stage this particular drama was midnight. The traditional witching hour.
‘Will you help?’ she asked Nobilor.
‘Are you kidding?’ His battered, gnarled face broke into a smile that showed false teeth held in place with gold wire. ‘To make dragons breathe fire and roar through the mountains? My lady, if Medusa turned me to stone on the spot, I’d still do it.’
Good, because all afternoon Sandor had been busy collecting dry brush. By now, this would have been transformed into a line of small bonfires set thirty feet apart, leading from the interior of the cave to its mouth, with a thick trail of oil connecting each pile.
‘You will be in charge of the first dragon,’ she explained to Nobilor. ‘Daphne will be in a second cave, and Sandor will be in a third.’
Amazing how quickly the priest took to trickery, once he saw the power that it bestowed.
‘For my part,’ she explained, ‘I will pore over a black bowl with a film of oil floated over it, making it appear that the water is cloudy. I’ll drop into a trance, beseech the gods to stop rivers in full spate, arrest the stars and make the earth groan with their Olympian powers. By magic, the film over my bowl will catch fire, the cue for a blast on the battle trumpet. That will be your signal to light the oil in the caves.’
Each line of flame would then flare up as it reached its next bonfire. The dragons would breathe fire from the bowels of the mountains.
‘I’ve also borrowed three bronze breastplates from the Spartan soldiers. Bang them with a stick, and the dragon will roar as well.’
If that didn’t lift the curse and put Sparta’s reputation on the map, she didn’t know what the hell would.
But first…
First there was another job to be done…
Thirty
They were all squashed into the station master’s office. Hector, his wife and the warrant officer on one side of the desk. Melisanne and Lisyl holding hands on the other, with Lisyl’s fiancé behind her, sporting a huge bruise on the side of his nose and the beginnings of one hell of a shiner. In the corner, Cadur leaned against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles, his forearms bandaged in gauze. Dierdra stood beside him like Cerberus guarding Hades. She wasn’t letting her boy go down without a fight.
Iliona squeezed in, closing the door softly behind her. This was her idea, after all. On her return from talking to Nobilor in the hills, she approached Hector, outlining what she saw as a solution to many of the problems that were seething within the walls of this station.
Sadly, not all the solutions were ideal—
‘Right, then.’ The master gave his hands a brisk rub. ‘I’ve asked you here this evening because I have an announcement, which affects each of you in one way or another.’
The oil lamps were numerous, lighting every face in the room. Each appeared strained, and Iliona’s was no exception.
‘Plans are in hand to double the size of the barracks on the far side of the lake. The aim is to step up patrols and therefore render the roads safer.’
Bandits were rife, and the trade routes were still dangerous for those travelling without the luxury of private bodyguards.
‘Inevitably, the town of Phaos will grow and prosper as a result. Bath houses, temples, gymnasia and theatres will spring up, attracting dyers, weavers, leather-workers and tanners. There’ll be booksellers, smokeries, shield- and harness-makers, and I intend to take advantage of this boom by opening a tavern over there.’
‘Really?’ Anthea was shocked. ‘Where’s the money coming from?’
Good question, Iliona thought. Luckily, Hector had been in the trade long enough to find some means of financing this venture.
One step at a time.
‘And for heaven’s sake, it’s not as though you don’t have enough to occupy you here.’
‘More than, my dear.’ He laid a conciliatory hand on his wife’s immaculately draped shoulder. ‘But by your own admission, the lack of stimulation stifles you here, and you said yourself your talents are wasted. Wouldn’t you be happier taking a more active role in the management of this station?’
‘Well, I… Yes, I suppose I would.’
See, Melisanne thought. Hadn’t she seen Anthea taking over the running of this place, while she and Hector ran a tavern elsewhere? Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered standing outside Dierdra’s hut, thinking how such an arrangement would make everyone happy. Especially when she could give him all the things Anthea could not. Love. Squeezy cuddles. A baby…
Love, warm and spreading, the Oracle said, like the sun in a hayfield.
She hadn’t told him about the child yet. After Yvorna died, they’d hardly spent more than a few seconds together, and then mostly with her in floods of tears. But she would tell him about the child tonight. Wouldn’t he be just overjoyed?
‘So that’s Anthea’s role,’ Hector was saying. ‘Let me explain how it affects the rest of you. Morin.’
‘Sir?’
‘First of all, I want to make it clear that I am not in the habit of reversing my decisions, but on this occasion I intend to make an exception.’ He glanced at Melisanne. ‘This has been a difficult week for everybody, but I have not forgotten that it was you, Morin, who cut down the body of your fiancée’s sister while Lisyl was still present at the s
cene. Frankly, this would be a harrowing enough task for anyone, without having any personal involvement.’ He stroked his beard. ‘Given the circumstances, I am therefore prepared to overlook the nauseating remarks you made later concerning Yvorna.’
‘You mean I’m not fired?’
‘You will remain in your post. But in return, I do expect you to buck your ideas up and stop loafing around, as is your wont at the moment. Also, if there is any lapse whatsoever, you will leave at once, without pay or recommendation, do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you. It won’t happen again.’ The big groom gingerly felt the side of his nose. ‘What about him?’
Hector followed his gaze to the young man watching intently through his fringe. ‘Cadur will not be working at this posting station.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Dierdra said. ‘He’s just as cut up about this business. We all are—’
‘You will have your chance to speak later, Dierdra. Let me continue, please.’ He turned to the warrant officer at his side. ‘I have been concerned for some time that you don’t have sufficient work to keep you occupied, Ballio. Every time I turn round, you seem to be watching, listening, making notes or filing spurious reports, and I find this an unhealthy arrangement.’
Anthea nodded firmly.
‘I am therefore recommending that you take responsibility for sanctioning all traffic coming in and out of the station.’
‘But that’s three times the work!’
‘If you feel unequal to the task, I’m sure your superiors will be happy to find a replacement who isn’t. Melisanne.’
‘Master?’
Hector clasped his hands behind his back, in case Anthea should see them shaking. ‘You have proved yourself extremely capable when it comes to managing my wife’s personal affairs, and we have found you loyal, trustworthy and honest. I would therefore like you to take on the responsibility for female guests at the tavern.’
Melisanne couldn’t hide the blush of joy that seemed to go down to her feet. ‘That’s just wonderful,’ she gushed. ‘I don’t know what to say!’
Hector didn’t want her to say anything. When Iliona had told him Melisanne was with child, he’d gone white. When she’d proposed this solution, he’d almost cried. ‘I would also like Lisyl to go with you,’ he said quickly. ‘Working here would be hard on you both, with tragic reminders wherever you looked. In Phaos, you’ll have the same independence and freedom, with the advantage of a fresh start, and still have each other’s support.’
Mella would need her sister once the baby arrived.
‘To begin with, Lisyl, I’d like you to take charge of the laundry. If, over time, you show aptitude for other aspects of management, I am quite happy to review the situation.’
Anthea’s face was set like stone, but Iliona knew it was to mask her relief. With the sisters out of the picture, her guilt at accusing Yvorna of seducing her husband would quickly recede, and with Hector busy setting up a new tavern on top of his work at the station, she didn’t see him having time for a mistress.
Iliona swallowed her smile. If Hector wouldn’t divorce his wife, yet was unable to give up Melisanne, there were precious few options left. He’d practically bitten Iliona’s hand off when she suggested this double life.
‘Didn’t you also mention a share of the profits?’ she murmured.
‘Did you?’ Anthea barked.
Hector blinked. Glanced at Melisanne’s still mercifully flat stomach, then back to Iliona. ‘I may have done,’ he said meekly. ‘Financial incentives, and all that.’
Iliona nodded. Maybe a second family at the tavern would unclench his tight fists, for he wasn’t quite the idealist he liked to portray. By hiring cheap labour, he counterbalanced the luxurious accommodation for VIP guests, which reminded her. Those sumptuous frescoes on her bedroom walls. Pastoral scenes, depicting heroes and gods, in what she’d concluded were very much Bull territory settings. Seeing Calypso’s bedroom changed all that, and a quick peer into other rooms proved the artist had chosen his designs for their beauty and tranquillity, with no thought to politics. There are times, she reflected, when you just have to accept facts at face value. Things don’t always have hidden meanings. Sometimes a painting is simply a painting. Just as an onion is simply an onion.
When Yvorna came running out of that store room wiping her eyes, it really had been on account of raw onions. Iliona went in to investigate later, and ended up crying herself.
‘Which leaves you, young man.’ Hector turned to address Cadur. ‘What you did today was extremely brave. Stupid,’ he said, with a half-smile. ‘But brave. Mind telling me why you risked your life to rescue those kittens?’
‘If I’d known there was a litter, I’d have drowned them,’ Anthea said. ‘You know how I feel about cats. Vile things!’ She shuddered. ‘The odd mouser’s unavoidable, but ugh! You should have reported it to me.’
‘Precisely why I didn’t,’ Cadur said levelly.
Iliona could only imagine the challenges of keeping a litter of kittens secret from Ballio and the rest of the grooms.
‘Well, I suspect we’ll be needing mousers at the tavern,’ Hector said, in an effort to lighten the atmosphere. Unlike his wife, he was fond of cats. Especially the little ginger one that fell asleep in the fold of his tunic. ‘Which brings me to my next point. Namely, that we shall be needing someone to take charge of the stables.’ He looked into Cadur’s unblinking eyes. ‘I’ve watched you with horses. You have an affinity for them. Do you feel up to the task?’
‘If he’s so good, why don’t you promote him to head groom at the station?’ Dierdra asked indignantly. ‘Better pay, better conditions? He works hard, does my boy.’ She linked her arm through his and squeezed. ‘Cadur deserves a reward.’
‘This is promotion,’ Hector reminded her. ‘And I already have a head groom at the station.’
‘But Phaos is a long way away,’ she protested. ‘Twenty miles, and that’s just as the crow flies.’
‘I can write,’ Cadur said.
‘No, no. It’s too far, love. You won’t be happy in town. You like the peace of the country—’
‘Too late, Dierdra,’ Iliona said quietly. ‘You’ve already lost him.’
Her eyes wandered round the room. At the thin weasel features of the warrant officer. Morin’s smug grin. Unsmiling Cadur. Melisanne and Lisyl, unable to hide their excitement, despite the horrific events of the last couple of days. She looked at Hector’s lined face. His unhappy, unfulfilled wife. Then finally turned back to Dierdra. The ringlets and ribbons, the kohl and the jewels, the brightly patterned tunic and thrusting, pert breasts.
‘You killed Yvorna for nothing,’ she said. ‘Cadur was never in love with her, Dierdra.’ She turned to the groom. ‘Were you?’
He frowned. ‘We were friends—’
‘How dare you! I’ve never so much as wrung a chicken’s neck in my life,’ Dierdra barked. ‘This was just a prank that went wrong!’
Iliona had already told the sisters that Yvorna was murdered. In a strange way, the news came as a comfort, knowing she hadn’t taken her own life—or, worse, done something immature and stupid that had backfired.
‘Oh, this was murder,’ she said, ‘though for the record, you killed the wrong person.’
‘Excuse me, I didn’t kill anyone.’ Dierdra planted her hands on her hips. ‘And besides. I knew full well Cad and Yvorna were only platonic. She was my friend, remember? She confided in me.’
‘I beg to differ. You saw them walking together more and more often. You heard Yvorna shouting at him, nagging him, in fact doing all the things you think lovers do, because how would you know? You’ve never had a man love you.’
Dierdra tossed her dyed ringlets. ‘Huh! I’ve lost count of the men who asked me to marry them—’
‘No one’s asked you to marry them. Those admirers of yours? All those gifts? You bought them yourself to convince everyone you were popular, but the money came from services re
ndered.’
‘That’s a lie!’ She turned to the station master for support. ‘I’m no tart and I never killed anyone.’
‘You don’t need to deny it,’ Iliona pressed on. ‘Cadur was well aware of what went on in that cottage.’
Men grow lonely on the road, a long way from home, and when a pretty girl is willing, they’ll happily tumble her. A joyful interlude on both sides, no strings attached, but Dierdra?
‘I’m guessing you offered services other girls wouldn’t provide. The sort of services men would brag about to the grooms.’
Just been getting me axle greased, mate.
‘So what?’ Cadur shrugged. ‘What Dierdra does in her own time is her business, same as what I do in my time is mine. I don’t judge.’
‘Exactly why you and Yvorna got on so well. You could share confidences, knowing they’d not be betrayed or judged.’
‘She was my friend, too,’ Dierdra cut in, ‘and I didn’t kill her, now then!’
‘Well, that’s the funny part. She wasn’t your friend. You made up how she was beckoning you over, wanting your advice. This was part of the fantasy you spun. A fantasy world, in which you were gorgeous, and popular, and everyone loved you. In reality, it was Yvorna’s popularity you were feeding on, but as to the hanging? No, Dierdra. Of course you didn’t kill Yvorna.’ She turned to Cadur. ‘Remind me again where you were the night Yvorna was hanged.’
‘Me?’ He backed against the wall. ‘N–nowhere. Walking. Down by the lake—’
‘But it was you who suggested to Morin where to take Lisyl for her special occasion. Somewhere quiet. Romantic.’
‘What of it?’
The room had fallen so quiet, you could hear the dust drop.
‘Yvorna trusted you. She’d have happily gone there with you, and of course, you had motive.’
‘What motive?’
‘I’ll come back to that in a second, but you’re strong, you have no alibi, and most importantly, you knew Lisyl would find the body.’ Iliona turned to Ballio. ‘Clap him in irons, and don’t worry about calling the army. We have Spartan soldiers on site. They will take care of this.’