“Come down,” he called softly. “Just back down. I’ll catch you if you slip.”
Marpessa made no reply. She began to creep upward again, a hand, then a foot, until at last she reached the gull. She made soft crooning noises to it as she swung herself over the spar and gripped the beam with her legs. Leaning forward, she reached one hand to grasp the gull’s foot. Gently she eased it out of the ring.
The gull flapped its wings furiously, then suddenly realized it was free and soared into the air. As Marpessa watched its flight, Arion saw her exultant smile. His heart lifted in response. After a moment she let herself slowly down the mast. When her feet touched the gangway, Arion took a deep, painful breath, realizing that his throat had been caught in a knot.
The captain descended on her angrily. “Why did you do that? You could have killed yourself!”
Marpessa looked up into his eyes. “It had a chance to be free—to live. Besides, it was brown.”
“Brown?” the captain asked, mystified.
“It was a young gull,” she told him.
All the men were staring at her, but Arion turned aside. Along the horizon ahead, a thin dark line of land was barely perceptible. The shore of Troy, the captain had said. Their goal was now in sight.
Arion lowered his head, tasting shame. Death might lie just ahead for this brave girl. And the other one. While he, cravenly, sought his own escape.
Then he straightened, filled with resolve. When those girls stepped on shore, he would go with them. He would protect them as best as he was able. Whatever it took, he would make sure they arrived safely inside the walls of Troy. Until then, he would think no more of his own escape.
IX
THE LANDING
U
The following afternoon, the ship reached the island of Tenedos just off the coast of Troy and anchored there. As she leaned against the rail looking at the island that blocked most of the mainland from her view, Marpessa mourned the end of the sea voyage. The crew had come to seem like family. They had teased her and smiled with affection in the carefree days when she had wandered among them unsupervised. The captain had become a doting uncle. He came to stand next to her now.
“A tiny island.” He gestured at Tenedos. “It’s shaped like a triangle. This is the very spot where the Greeks hid their fleet from the mainland when the Trojan horse was being dragged into the city, just before the sack of Troy.” He turned to her with a smile, but his words reminded her of her ancestor Ajax and the reason she was here. A queasy dread crept into her belly. Soon she and Haleia would be on their way to that hostile citadel. She would even miss company of the sour priestesses.
At that moment, Anteia called her name and beckoned to her from the tent. It was time to prepare. With a nod at the captain, Marpessa went reluctantly along the gangway and stepped into the darkness of the women’s quarters.
After she disappeared inside, Arion and Gortys went to the foredeck where they stood staring at the island and the mainland beyond.
“This is where we always stop,” Gortys said. “We can’t be seen from the mainland. It’s a good place to wait while the girls are being prepared in keeping with the ritual.” He gestured toward the tent. Arion followed his gaze but could see only the closed tent flaps. He was not sure what the ritual involved. Nor was he concerned with it at this moment, for Gortys said, “Our real work begins now.”
Arion leaned forward, grasping the rail, tensing his muscles. He hoped he was ready.
Gortys gestured in the direction of the mainland. “We must go in at night. It’s part of the ritual and the only hope we have of avoiding the Trojans. They’ll be expecting us, and there’ll be groups of them on the watch for us. So we land under the cover of darkness.”
As the picture formed in his mind, Arion asked, “How will we find our way? Can we light a lamp?”
Gortys shook his head. “It would be seen immediately. I know the countryside, and we’ll find our way by moonlight. He pointed to the land northward of the ship. “We must round that point and go in at the place called Rhoeteum. Again, it’s demanded by the ritual. But the shore is barren and there’s not much cover. Just some shrubs and a few rocky outcroppings.”
Arion was aghast. “And they know we’ll land there?”
Gortys shrugged. “It has always been thus.”
“Then they’re waiting for us. We’ll be walking into a trap.”
Gortys shook his head. “There are many places to make land on that shore. And they don’t know exactly what day we’re coming in, nor what time.”
It’s very chancy, Arion worried. Still, Gortys had been a guide for many years, and no doubt he knew the best way to evade the Trojans.
“Moonrise will be several hours after sunset,” Gortys said. “We’ll wait until then. The ship will bring us close enough to launch a skiff, and with luck we can bring the girls in without being seen.”
“A skiff?” In the moonlight they would be in plain sight of the shore for the time it took to row in. “Can’t the girls swim?”
Gortys looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “Girls can’t swim.”
Arion checked an angry retort and turned away. He had learned to swim as a small child in the streams of his home, before his slavery. It was a necessary part of survival. If they could have swum ashore, they could have made land completely unseen. Why hadn’t the girls been better prepared for this?
Inside the tent, the priestesses made Marpessa and Haleia discard their gowns. They poured spring water over the girls’ naked bodies. Marpessa tried not to flinch. She gritted her teeth as the dark-haired priestess, with rough, vigorous strokes, passed a wet cloth along her belly, down her back, and between her legs. Anteia was doing the same to Haleia.
Then Anteia opened a chest and took out a sharp blade to cut Haleia’s hair. Marpessa watched piles of dark brown hair falling to the floorboards. The knife scraped close to Haleia’s scalp, and Marpessa could see white patches of skin through the sparse hair that remained. When the priestess finished, Haleia looked like a bald boy. Marpessa suppressed a shiver when Anteia began hacking off her hair. She watched the pile growing on the floor—a lighter brown than Haleia’s, with a sheen of burnished gold from the sun. Haleia looked at her with an expression of horror. They were allowed no mirrors, but each girl could imagine her own reflection in the other.
The dark-haired priestess drew out of the chest a pair of loose, coarsely woven gowns. “You must wear these, and nothing else,” she said. “No girdles or sashes. You may keep your sandals for the trip to the citadel. But once you reach the temple, you must discard them and bury them. When you are there, you are to be barefoot always.”
“Now you are ready,” Anteia said, but Marpessa felt far from ready. “Go on deck—the captain will offer a libation to the gods. Then we wait for his orders. The ship won’t approach the landing place until moonrise, so you may as well rest.”
Marpessa drew a deep breath, willed her knees to stop trembling, and stepped out of the tent. At that moment Arion and Gortys, standing on the foredeck, turned. She saw the shock register in Arion’s eyes.
Arion forced himself to look away. To stare at the girls was to share in their shame. Marpessa looked particularly small, pale, and defenseless with her naked head. Arion did not want to think about the dangerous journey and the eventual abandonment that lay ahead for her and Haleia.
The sun was setting, dropping into the sea in a fiery glow. The captain called for his two-handled libation cup to be filled with wine and brought to him. Lifting it over the side of the ship, he cried out, “O Father Zeus, Athena, Apollo! We come before you from across the sea to bring these two maidens to the temple of Troy. Accept their servitude and grant success to our mission, and safety to Lokris for one more year!” He poured the wine into the sea.
As twilight deepened, one of the sailors came u
p from the galley and handed round baskets of bread and meat. As Arion joined the other men who sat on the thwarts to eat, the mood on the ship was somber and silent. The ordeal that lay ahead for the maidens hung like a pall over everyone. When the meal was finished, Gortys said to Arion, “Now comes the hard part. Waiting.” He settled himself along a thwart, his feet up and his head resting against the rail. He closed his eyes, then opened them to say, “You might as well rest while you can. It’s going to be a long night.”
Arion awoke with a start. Moonlight silvered the eastern sky, and he heard Gortys say to the captain, “We should set out for Rhoeteum now that there’s enough light to steer the ship.”
The captain called for the men to pull up anchor. Arion got to his feet and glanced toward the tent where the girls had gone to rest. The flap parted, and one of the priestesses looked out questioningly. “We’re on our way,” Arion told her. “Perhaps you should awaken the girls.”
As the men took their places at the oars, nobody spoke. It seemed as if nobody breathed. The sea was calm, the air still, and the men made an effort to slip their oars soundlessly into the water. The ship glided around the northern tip of Tenedos. The mainland was still far away, a long black shape slightly humped above the dark glow of the sea. Arion could see no lights, no ships, nothing moving, but he feared they would soon become all too visible to any hidden watchers.
Gortys glanced at the helmsman and pointed northeast, to the point of land around which they must navigate. The oarsmen pulled with silent strength, and for a long time there was no sound but the creaking of the oars and the soft, rhythmic splash of the blades as they sliced the water. The ship angled in on a long northward diagonal that would take it close to the shore. Arion, leaning into the prow, felt every muscle and sinew in his body stretched unbearably tight.
Suddenly the helmsman, his voice loud in the dark, said, “Level with the tip of the cape.”
The captain called out, “Bear to starboard!”
“What are we doing?” Arion asked Gortys.
“We’re pushing in as close as we can. Then we go ashore in the skiff.”
The oarsmen on the left rowed furiously, and the ship turned slowly toward the land on the right.
“No! Tell them to go straight!” shouted Arion.
Everyone looked at him with surprise, the rowers with their oars poised at the apex.
“Keep rowing north,” he urged the captain, “only parallel to the mainland past the point. Pause just long enough to let us to launch the skiff on the seaward side. We can row in from here with less chance of being seen.”
Gortys said, “It’s a good plan.”
“A decoy!” the captain agreed. “If they’re watching, they might not know it’s us.” He gave the order to the rowers, and the boat swung northward again until at last the captain called a halt. The rowers paused, and there was a splash as two sailors dropped the skiff into the sea. Arion and Gortys made their way to the stern, where the girls and the two priestesses waited.
Gortys straddled the rail with difficulty and boarded, stowed some supplies, then reached up an encouraging hand toward the girls, while the two sailors kept the small boat moored to the side of the swaying ship. Arion saw at once that the difficulty would be in loading Haleia into the unsteady skiff. She clutched the ship’s rail, frozen with fear, though the distance to the water was not great. At last Arion, impatient, jumped overboard. Treading water, he held the skiff steady and looked up at her.
“Easy now!” he encouraged her, much as he might have reassured a skittish horse. “Keep your weight near the center of the skiff. Then, when you’re in, take a seat quickly.” She clambered over the rail and stepped down, overbalancing, causing the boat to rock. In panic she took a misstep—and fell in.
The priestesses, watching from the side, screamed. “Hush!” Arion hissed at them. He steadied the rocking boat as he looked around for Haleia, but she had vanished in the dark sea.
There was another splash. Marpessa. Arion watched in horror. How could he save them both? Then he saw that she was swimming in quick, sure strokes to the place where Haleia had gone under. She dived and came up gripping the back of Haleia’s gown, holding the girl’s face above the water as she maneuvered her to the skiff.
Gortys hauled Haleia up, with Arion pushing, and she flopped into the boat like a large fish. Arion turned to help Marpessa, but she launched herself over the side into the skiff, leaving Arion to follow.
“All’s well!” Gortys called to the captain. “Keep going north to divert them. We’ll be on our way.”
He and Arion hauled on the oars. Marpessa and Haleia sat opposite them, Haleia shivering and obviously frightened. Marpessa, equally cold and wet, clutched her arms about herself and rocked gently to warm herself.
Arion marveled at her quick action but said nothing. It was Gortys, almost accusatory, who asked, “How did you learn how to swim?”
“I taught myself. In the woodland streams near my home,” she answered, still breathing hard. “I went there often. Alone.”
Gortys gave his attention to rowing, and for a time no one spoke. Arion took deep slow breaths, letting the rhythm of rowing calm him.
By the gods! he thought. We’ve barely started, and already we’ve almost lost one girl. How will we ever keep them safe?
Marpessa huddled close to Haleia and looked toward the dark strip of land, still faint and hazy. Gortys said there would be Trojan men hidden in the darkness, men who wanted to kill them. A knot tightened in her throat. Next to her Haleia continued to shake. Marpessa put her arm around her and rubbed her shoulders. She wanted to reassure the other girl but was almost too frightened to speak. I won’t be a coward, she reminded herself. To take her mind off her fear, she looked around at the others in the small boat, their faces outlined in moonlight. What an ill-assorted group they were! A slave, an old man, two bald girls. And three of the four were soaking wet! A half-hysterical giggle rose in her throat. She suppressed it, knowing how odd it would sound to her companions. Still, a small noise escaped her.
She felt rather than saw the gaze of Arion the slave, and glanced up. He had barely spoken to her on the sea journey, but now his eyes, black in the darkness, probed hers. She caught her breath in astonishment. She felt him look deep into her heart, her spirit. No man or woman had ever looked at her like that. She returned his look unflinchingly and found kindness there, understanding, and a profound respect. Even a kind of comfort, though there was no comfort in her fate.
Any words would have diminished what had passed between them, and Arion spoke none. After a moment he let his gaze slide away without ever breaking the rhythm of his rowing.
I was wrong about him, she thought wonderingly.
As they drew close to land, Gortys surrendered his oar to Arion and crept into the bow to search the darkness ahead. He whispered, “From now on we must be absolutely silent.” He gave almost inaudible directions to Arion, who steered the skiff parallel to the shore, close in. Then at a signal from Gortys, Arion veered up a shallow stream. Marpessa heard the rough scrape of rocks along the bottom of the boat. Arion steered into some reeds and low, overhanging willows where they were completely hidden, blackness all around them. Gortys grabbed a branch to hold the boat still, and they sat not breathing. Listening. Moments passed that felt like hours. Marpessa heard no sound above the thud of her own heart.
At last, after an eternity, Gortys whispered, “All’s well.”
Arion slipped over the side and stood in knee-deep water, steadying the boat while Gortys climbed out. Marpessa followed, and she and Gortys helped Haleia. Arion secured the skiff with rope. He and Gortys slung small bundles with food and water onto their backs. Then, trying not to splash, they waded through reeds onto the shore.
“So far so good,” whispered Gortys. “Follow me.”
He led the way past reeds and mud to flat ground.
Marpessa felt dirt, rocks, dry weeds under her feet. Gortys looked around. “No one,” he whispered. Marpessa let out a sigh, realizing she’d been holding her breath. No Trojans—yet.
“This way.” Gortys beckoned. “There’s a stream we’ll follow.” Marpessa felt its sandy bottom as water swirled around her ankles. The brackish stream was wide and shallow where it flowed into the sea. She could make out the shapes of reeds and bushes, even some low-bending willows that grew along its banks. Gortys led the way, finding a path on one side, and the other three followed. The gibbous moon shone brightly above the low black hills in the east. As Gortys and Arion scanned their surroundings, Marpessa found herself staring at every shadow, every small movement. The little stream was peaceful. All was quiet save for their muted footsteps. But it could change in the blink of an eye.
After they had walked for perhaps an hour, Arion stopped suddenly. The others froze, listening. In the far distance Marpessa heard voices. A faint thrashing of branches, as though heavy footsteps plowed through them. Coming closer. An icy tingling swept through her. Her stomach sickened with fear.
“Quick!” Arion’s command was no more than a breath. He steered them into a huge thicket. “Be silent!”
As they crouched in the darkness of a prickly nest of leaves and branches, trying not to breathe, they heard a noisy approach.
The Trojans. Looking for them.
X
TROY
U
Sticks and thorns pressed into her skin as they hid in the heart of the thicket, motionless, the voices suddenly quite near. Marpessa couldn’t see anything—was afraid to breathe. Afraid they would hear. Her heart was racing—galloping. Two or three men, she guessed. No more than a few paces away. She couldn’t understand their words, though she knew they must be speaking Greek. Finding Haleia’s hand, she held on as if to life itself. Her knees were coiled springs. She wanted to leap up, to flee. As if he sensed it, Arion, behind her, suddenly gripped her arm. His index finger moved up and down along her skin in a gesture that was oddly comforting. Gradually her knees relaxed. At last the sound of feet through underbrush moved away. The voices diminished. Marpessa breathed again. The four of them remained still, frozen, until all the sounds faded in the distance.
Shadow of Athena Page 5