Arion released her arm. “They don’t know we’re here yet,” he reassured them.
“We’ll wait till they’re far away.” Gortys’s voice came out of the dark.
“The stream dips between steep banks,” Arion whispered. “I saw, just before I heard them. We’ll have cover.”
“That was only one small group,” Gortys cautioned. “There’ll be others.”
When all they could hear was the burbling stream, they crept from their hiding place. Marpessa stretched her cramped legs. The landscape was stark and barren in the moonlight, but true to Arion’s word, the banks became high, and they could walk along the sandy streambed hidden from sight, sometimes wading in shallow water. After a time Arion made them pause while he strained to listen. “Voices,” Arion said, “but far away.” They continued. “Faster,” he urged them, and though they were all breathing hard from effort, their progress seemed impossibly slow. Soon the terrain became rocky, and they slowed to a snail’s pace, Haleia picking her way with difficulty. Arion took her elbow to help her.
The moon was dipping toward the west. A cold night wind gusted. Marpessa heard crickets chirping and Gortys breathing noisily behind her, but otherwise only their footsteps crunching on pebbles. Then a shout, faint in the distance. They froze and looked at Gortys, but it was Arion who hissed, “Down! Lie flat against the bank.”
Marpessa flung herself prone on the ground, her face in sand, her heart hammering against her ribs. She heard scraping and rustling beside her and looked up to see Arion tearing down branches and reeds and flinging them over her and the others. Then he hit the ground and pulled some over himself. “Put your head down!” he whispered. “Lie still.” She obeyed. The voices grew louder. She could almost make out words. Now footsteps, nearer, nearer—stopping. Oh, gods! A man was standing just above her. She could hear his harsh, noisy breaths.
“—which way did they come?” she heard. She couldn’t breathe. Then came a rustling, and a shower of pebbles struck her. Had he thrown them? Only an animal instinct kept her from jumping out of her skin. She waited for the fatal strike of sword or spear. Her head was bursting. She was going to die, but first she was going to be sick.
A cruel laugh. “They always follow the streambed. We’ll get them!” Then more pebbles falling. Shuffling steps. The man’s foot must have dislodged loose dirt from the bank. Another voice muttered, “Let’s move on.” Slowly her darkened, numbed mind realized the men were leaving. We’re safe, they didn’t even see us. Her body went as limp as if she had melted. “Don’t move,” came Arion’s whisper. They waited an eternity until the voices and the steps faded from their hearing. And waited some more. At last Arion got to his feet and helped Haleia up as Gortys scrambled to rise. Then Arion stood over her. She was so weak that she accepted his hand and let him help her up.
“All right, girls?” Gortys asked them.
“The gods tested my courage, and I failed,” Marpessa whispered.
“Courage doesn’t mean you’re never afraid,” Arion said, lifting the pack with their food and water. “Let’s go.” He climbed up the bank and crouched, his head just above ground level as he scanned the landscape. “I can see the citadel,” he said when he came back. Then he added, “We must leave the streambed.”
“The land is open and flat,” Gortys objected. “We won’t have any cover.”
“But this is where they’ll be looking for us.” Gortys had no answer to that. “We must spread out and walk crouched over as much as possible so that we’re less visible. And no one talks! No sound at all,” Arion continued. “I’ll lead, then Haleia, then Marpessa, Gortys last. If I make this signal—” he slashed down with his arm— “drop to the ground and don’t move. Now let’s eat and drink. We’ll need our strength. This next bit will be the hardest.”
Gortys nodded. He seemed content to let Arion take command. Marpessa was glad. His quiet strength reassured her. They ate some bread and dried fish, drank from the stream, refilled the water skin, then set out across the barren terrain. A faint glow in the eastern sky made them all too visible. Dawn was not far off. Her stomach tightened. This place was too open. They could be seen from afar. Each time Arion scanned the landscape, she looked around and listened but heard nothing above their own labored breathing. Gortys, in obvious pain from his stiff legs, was falling behind. Marpessa whistled softly to Arion, who signaled a halt. They rested on the ground, but Arion did not allow a long stop. Soon they began walking again, almost crawling. Marpessa could see the citadel of Troy looming on the horizon, its walls outlined in moonlight.
All of a sudden Arion made a slashing movement. They dropped to the ground. Marpessa’s heart thudded. She heard nothing. Then—a distant voice carried on the breeze. A faint shout, another. They waited, heard nothing more. Arion crept back to them. “They’re far away toward the shore,” he whispered, pointing. “Keep low. We must hurry.”
But the terrain became deeply rutted, littered with clumps of dried dirt and rocks, making their progress difficult. Marpessa’s legs ached from the awkward pace. Suddenly Haleia gave a stifled cry and crumpled to the ground. Arion, looking alarmed, ran back to check on her.
“My ankle—twisted.” Haleia clutched her leg, grimacing.
Arion crouched down to examine it. “I’m going to bind it.” He untied the strip of cloth that he wore around his head. As he wrapped it tightly about her ankle, his loosened hair, damp with sweat, spilled over his brow. “Is that better? Can you walk?”
Haleia scrambled awkwardly to her feet, tried a step, and winced. Arion lifted her arm over his shoulder. “Lean on me. Hop if you need to. We’ll walk upright, but we must hurry.”
Gortys seemed relieved to be upright. Marpessa took Haleia’s other arm over her shoulder to help bear the girl’s weight. Their pace was agonizingly slow with Haleia in obvious pain, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her face frozen in grim determination. Her ankle swelled against the tight cloth of Arion’s improvised bandage, and she gasped sharply at almost every step. The sky was far too light. Marpessa looked around fearfully. Nothing. No other sounds. What did it mean? Would all their pursuers be waiting for them at the citadel?
“A little bit more,” Arion exhorted Haleia. “We’re getting close. You can do it.”
Marpessa looked toward the citadel, too far away. Haleia gave a moan and stopped. “I can’t,” she whispered, almost crying.
Arion unslung the water skin from his shoulder and handed it to her. After she caught her breath and took a swig, he looked into her eyes. “There is no can’t,” he said. The words rang through Marpessa’s mind. Haleia put out her arms to lean on Arion and Marpessa and started forward with new resolve.
“Good! Another step, another,” Arion encouraged her as they struggled on.
All at once he stopped abruptly. Marpessa felt a shock pass through his body from Haleia to her. “Voices,” he hissed. “Nearer.”
They froze, listening.
“We must run. Haleia, I’ll carry you. Marpessa, keep up. Gortys, follow.” He swept Haleia over his shoulder like a sack of grain and began to run as fast as his awkward burden would allow. Marpessa followed. She could hear Arion’s labored breaths. Behind her Gortys was losing ground. She could not hear over their noisy progress how far away the pursuers were. In an agony of worry she pushed on.
Where are they? Have they spotted us?
The ground grew rougher and began to slope up. Large rocks impeded their way. Marpessa stumbled over a jagged stone. She looked up. These rocks had once been pieces of a crumbling wall. They had almost reached the citadel.
“A bit more—a bit more,” Arion gasped. His ragged breaths tore the air. Marpessa longed to help him with Haleia. They reached the base of a high wall of massive blocks of stone. The lower part slanted in a steep slope. The upper part was vertical. Marpessa looked up at the ancient stonework, said to have been put in place
by the gods themselves. Some of it had crumbled. Some rocks were newer, smoother. She felt a shiver of awe and fear. Her ancestor Ajax had been among the men who tried to storm these very walls uncounted generations ago.
Arion reached a place in the wall with some concealment from the plain. He set Haleia down and listened for several moments. Over the gusting of the wind, Marpessa was sure she heard voices, sounds of pursuit, but Arion gave no sign. He scanned the uneven walls, broken in many places. She wondered how they would enter the citadel.
“We wait here for Gortys,” Arion panted, pulling the girls behind some shrubs. “He knows the way in.”
At last Gortys, limping, caught up with them. They had to wait while he stood rubbing a sore thigh and knee. Then he said, “This way, quickly. We must find the secret entry way.” Arion lifted Haleia again. Gortys led them among tumbled stones around the eastern side of the citadel toward the north. After a short time he stopped, searching the wall, which looked impenetrable to Marpessa. “There’s a gap—a passage through the wall, once part of a well. It’s somewhere near here.” Marpessa looked up and down the wall frantically. There were depressions, shadows, but no opening that she could see. Then she heard a voice—a distant shout. She glanced at Arion, who was watching Gortys intently, as if exhorting him in silence to find the entrance. But the older man shook his head. “It must be farther on.”
“Hurry!” Arion whispered fiercely. They started up again.
At last Gortys stopped, pointed upward to a deep black opening in the sloping part of the wall. “There it is!” So small! Marpessa thought. They could have easily missed it. Would they all be able to crawl through it? She could. But the others?
“Come on!” Arion said. They heard a shout close by, just around the curving wall. “Quickly!” He began scaling the wall, one arm holding Haleia, the other hand steadying his way. Marpessa followed. Gortys crawled up behind her, breathing heavily. The uneven slope provided plenty of handholds and footholds. As she climbed toward the gap, she saw that it was bigger than it had looked from the bottom.
Suddenly, a harsh shout came from just below. “There they are! Stop them!” Marpessa froze. They were only halfway up. A group of men came into sight around the wall. Some brandished spears. One hurled a stone. It struck the wall and shattered close to them. She looked back. More men came running from the opposite direction.
“Keep going!” Arion yelled. A terrifying volley of rocks and spears came at them. Most of them hit the wall and fell harmlessly, but a sharp rock struck Marpessa’s calf. She barely felt the sting of pain. Arion was near the opening. He moved Haleia off his shoulder and shielded her with his body. “Climb!” he hissed at her. As they reached the opening, he flung a desperate look over his shoulder at Marpessa. With Haleia out of range, she had become the only target. “Duck!” he shouted. Just in time she ducked as a spear struck the wall so close to her head that she felt a breeze on her bare scalp. She shinnied up faster than ever. The barrage of rocks stopped, and she hear more ominous noises, grunts and shouts and the scrambling of many men scaling the wall below her. Oh, gods, they’re climbing after us!
Arion shoved Haleia toward the gap. She disappeared into the hole. He turned, reached for Marpessa. A rock struck the wall near her, releasing a shower of fragments. “Quick! Get in the passage!” Heart pounding, she thrust herself into the opening.
The sudden profound darkness blinded her. She crawled forward over a rocky surface by feel alone. Soon her knees were sticky with blood. Just ahead she could hear Haleia scrabbling, grunting, moaning. “Go!” Marpessa shouted. She caught up with the other girl and pushed her backside unceremoniously. She heard sounds behind her.
Let it be Arion and Gortys, she prayed. Let them be safe!
She called over her shoulder. “Arion? Gortys?”
“Here,” came Arion’s voice, echoing in the dark. “Hurry! They’re behind us!”
Marpessa pushed on through a black void, straining her ears for noises behind her. At last the darkness thinned. She nudged Haleia forward, and tried to see past her. “We’re almost there,” she called back to the men. When she rounded a curve in the passage, light spilled in, blinding her. Haleia crawled into daylight and collapsed. Marpessa wriggled past her, got to her feet.
They were on a narrow street between rows of stone houses. A few people wandered around in the early morning light. An old woman carrying a burden looked at them strangely. Then she gave a shriek. Other women came running. From nowhere a small crowd gathered.
“The temple girls! They’ve arrived!”
Before Marpessa could catch her breath, a veiled woman near the opening of the tunnel sprang forward. “Quickly! Follow me!” she said. “You’re not safe yet!”
XI
PARTING
U
“I’m a priestess. I’ll take you to the temple.” The veiled woman grabbed Haleia’s and Marpessa’s arms. Haleia took a few limping steps, but Marpessa hung back, looking over her shoulder for Arion and Gortys, who had just crawled out of the passage. “Quick!” Gortys said. “Go with her. We’ll follow.”
He and Arion turned to face the tunnel, ready to fend off the attackers, and Marpessa had no choice but to go with the priestess. She took Haleia’s arm over her shoulder and helped the injured girl hobble up the street as best she could. Their guide, observing them, said, “It’s only a short walk.”
Marpessa’s heart pounded. At any moment the armed men might burst through the tunnel and overcome Gortys and Arion. And what of the crowd of women that followed? “Don’t worry about them,” said the veiled woman, seeing her anxious glance. “It’s only the men who hunt you. We women can’t bear the bloodshed. And the men will give up once we reach the temple.”
They hurried along the inside of the curving wall, then up a narrow sloping street deep in shadow. Smells wafted to Marpessa’s nostrils: the stench of offal and human waste, the smoky scent of early-morning cook fires. At last they entered a gate into the courtyard of a gray stone edifice of several levels. It was far larger than any building in Naryx, and it was—forbidding. Marpessa felt a pang of yearning for the familiar house on the edge of the meadow where she had grown up, a world away.
Inside the gate, their guide relaxed visibly. “Here in the temple precinct you’re safe. Wait here. I’ll inform the High Priestess that you’ve arrived.” But as the woman disappeared through the yawning blackness of the temple door, Marpessa looked back through the gate. Where were Arion and Gortys?
At last they appeared, Arion with scrapes on his arms and a bruise under his eye. He must have had to fight to keep the Trojan men from pursuing them. She looked a question at him, but he said nothing. It was Gortys who spoke. “It’s over, girls. You’re safe.” He smiled. “From now on no one will try to kill you.”
Haleia let out an audible sigh, but Marpessa could not feel any relief. Jagged shards pierced her heart at the thought of what lay ahead. A parting, a year of hard servitude. It was the thought of the parting that bothered her most. A chasm opened within her. She looked at the others, wanting to put her arms around all of them, to hold them, but instead she lowered her head until she had mastered her tears.
Gortys turned to Arion. “Our job isn’t done yet. But the next part will be easier.”
Arion looked surprised. “What remains to be done?”
“Have you forgotten? We must escort the others to the ship.”
“Others?” Marpessa looked up, puzzled. Then she remembered. “Oh! The other two maidens! The ones who came last year and have completed their servitude.”
She saw Arion’s face clear as he too remembered.
“At least we can go without fear,” Gortys reminded him. “Nobody will be trying to kill them.”
Arion made no response. He seemed strangely distracted.
At that moment a stout woman in a white robe and rounded headdress under
a gossamer veil came out of the door. Her imposing manner indicated that she was the High Priestess. “Welcome. We are glad you have arrived,” she said formally, looking the two girls over from head to toe. Her eyes lingered on their shorn heads. “It is well that you have been prepared. We can begin initiating you right away.” She turned toward the men. “I regret that we cannot offer you food or shelter. You must escort the other maidens to your ship without delay so that you can begin your journey home. I will bring them to you.” Her eyes swung again to the girls. “This may seem hasty, but it’s for the best. Now is your chance to send messages with these men to your families. Do so and be quick about it. Then make your farewells.” With a brisk nod, she turned on her heel and marched back into the dark doorway.
The four of them stood in awkward silence. At last Gortys stepped forward and took first Haleia’s hand, then Marpessa’s. Marpessa clung to the comforting warmth of his callused hand and didn’t want to let go. “We will tell your families that you came here safely,” he said, “and that you send your love. Farewell, my dears! If the gods will it, I will see you both in a year’s time when I come on the same errand with your replacements.”
Haleia murmured something that sounded like “Farewell,” but Marpessa’s throat was clogged. They were all looking at her. At last she managed to say, “Thanks to both of you for guiding us so well.”
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