Shadow of Athena

by Elena Douglas

  “The rowing,” he breathed. He fell silent, then gathered the strength to continue. “The others,” he whispered. “They all get rests. I...never.”

  Anger coursed through her, but she helped him gently to his rowing bench and covered him with the blanket she gotten from Hamilcar. After a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, she bent to kiss his brow. He smiled with closed eyes. “Sleep, my love,” she murmured.

  When his breathing grew even, she left him and went swiftly down the gangway to find Hamilcar, too furious to be afraid.

  He was on the stern deck with the helmsman. Before she reached him, she stopped, her rage replaced by icy fear. The foreigners could simply kill her—and Arion. She drew a deep breath, approached slowly. The two men watched her in surprise. She looked directly into Hamilcar’s eyes, then went down on her knees before him.

  “Hamilcar, we Greeks believe a suppliant is sacred to the gods.” She bowed her head. “I come before you and your god Baal as a suppliant. I beg you. Please go to your captain and ask that he let my brother Arion rest from the oars as the others do. My brother is near death from exhaustion. I, Teukros, without my brother am nothing. I will be alone, and I too will die. Help me,” she pleaded.

  Hamilcar exchanged a glance with the helmsman, then gave a twisted grin. His black eyes shone with gleams of triumph that filled her with dread.

  “I can help you, boy. I can save brother,” he began softly. He shot a glance at the helmsman, who lowered his eyes discreetly. “But if I do, what you give me? Too long I be kind to you, I spoil you. But no more sly games, my lad. No more run away. If I save brother, you give what I want.”

  Marpessa, still on her knees, straightened, her arms limp at her sides. Her eyes closed. She felt as if she were dropping straight down into a dark pit, her heart and stomach left far behind. Her words came after a long, shuddering breath.

  “Save my brother!”

  XLII

  THE HOSPITABLE SEA

  U

  That night as the ship lay at anchor, rocking in the current, Marpessa, in her bed, heard footsteps shuffling through the animal pen. Hamilcar! He carried a lamp and approached without a care how much noise he made, shoving sheep and goats aside, muttering in Phoenician. When he stood over her, the lamp’s flame distorted his face, giving him demon features.

  Her heart pounded like the hooves of a runaway horse. As Hamilcar hunkered down on the bedding, her throat closed with fear. She reared up and backed as far as she could against the curving wall of the hull, clutching the blanket to her breast. Then, realizing what a feminine gesture that was, she let it fall.

  Hamilcar, almost conversationally, said, “I do what I say. I speak captain. Brother can rest, heal. When he row again, he have rests like others.”

  “Thank you,” she breathed almost inaudibly—and waited.

  “This bed not comfortable. Too close animal stink.” He leaned closer and inspected her in the light of the lamp’s small flame. She saw the twin gleams of that flame in his eyes and smelled his rank breath. “You come my bed,” he said.

  All the air left her lungs and for several heartbeats she couldn’t speak. At last she blurted, “What do you want, Hamilcar? It’s late. I was sleeping.”

  Her weak pretense of ignorance angered him. His voice roughened. “You beg, beg, and I keep promise. Now you come my bed.”

  She said, “I can’t, Hamilcar! I’m sick.” In fact this was not a lie. Bile rose in her throat. She retched suddenly, loudly.

  There was silence. At last he said, “Tomorrow night,” the words dragged out reluctantly.

  She heard his footsteps stomping off, eloquent of his anger. Shaking with horror, for a moment she couldn’t move. Then her mouth filled with sickness. She crawled quickly to a mucky corner of the pen and vomited.

  Back in her pallet she was weak with relief. But it was short lived. A one-day reprieve, she thought. Not enough. It might take days to get through the strait, and after that five more days to reach Heracléa Pontica. How will I avoid him for that long?

  When she awoke the following morning, she could tell by the movement of the ship that they were already underway, the oarsmen fighting the current. For a moment she lay still, too full of dread to move. But she must see Arion to learn if Hamilcar had indeed kept his promise. When she climbed out of the hold, she found Arion lying near the aft deck, eyes closed. He looked exhausted, but his color was normal.

  “Arion!” she cried joyfully.

  He opened his eyes and smiled.

  “Did you sleep well? Let me see your hands.” She inspected the bandages. There was some seepage, but his wounds looked clean.

  “I slept well. I’m much better,” he said. “How did you arrange it?”

  Marpessa felt her smile slip away. She lowered her eyes and forced herself to speak lightly. “I asked Hamilcar to convince the captain.”

  But Arion had always been able to read her. “Marpessa? What is it?”

  “Nothing. I...I just don’t want him to suspect me.”

  “And does he?”

  “No, not yet.” At least this was the truth. And it struck her as so ironic that she managed a grin. “Arion, I came to see you even before tending the animals. But I must go now.” She got to her feet, turned toward the ladder. She felt his puzzled gaze on her back. Never before had she avoided him. But if she stayed in his presence he would probe her secret. Her dread returned, draining strength from her legs.

  Then, as she backed down the short ladder to the hold, her gaze fell on the aft deck with the canvas cover and the mysterious things hidden under it. The gold. If she and Arion escaped, they would have use for gold. A thought began to form. And at the same moment an idea sprang into her head about how she could keep Hamilcar at bay—at least for a while.

  Arion knew at once that Marpessa was hiding something. She looked drawn and sick, her eyes hollow from lack of sleep. It must have something to do with Hamilcar. Had the Phoenician discovered her secret? When he asked if Hamilcar suspected her, her answer had the ring of truth. Then she had made an excuse and left before he could ask anything else. So what was it? A terrifying thought came to him. Was Hamilcar one of those men who liked boys? Arion sat up, ready to spring to his feet and find Hamilcar. But he would be stopped, maybe beaten or even killed. There was nothing he could do that wouldn’t put her in greater danger. His helplessness nearly sent him mad. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that somehow Marpessa must be keeping Hamilcar at a distance. Or perhaps he was wrong, and it was something else entirely.

  Soon he was called to his station once again. Wearily he took up his oar. As he bent his back into rowing, blood oozed from his blisters. But this was a small thing compared to their other troubles. The men around him also had bleeding blisters. And as the day wore on, he was given periodic rests as often as the Phoenician rowers.

  When night fell, the ship once again maneuvered over to the shore and dropped anchor, and Marpessa came as usual to the railing where he awaited her. He moved forward eagerly to greet her—then drew back in shock. An overwhelming smell of the animal pen enveloped her. There were streaks of dirt along her arms and legs.

  “Teukros—” he began in dismay.

  Keeping her distance, she said, “I’m sorry, Arion. I had no way to wash. No water.” Yet she had always washed before, staying clean even under the most difficult circumstances. He gave her a skeptical look, but she offered nothing more. Instead she asked, “How are you faring, Arion?”

  “I’m tired,” he said, “but much better.”

  “You’re rowing again? You have rests?”

  He answered abstractedly. He did not want to talk about the rowing. He wanted to find out what was happening with Hamilcar, but she clearly wasn’t going to tell him. A silence fell between them, making him at once worried and sad.

  As darkness close
d in, men sought their berths. Normally at this time Marpessa would return to her pallet in the hold, and he would go to his rowing bench to sleep. But instead she turned toward a narrow ledge near his bench, under the gangway. “I’m going to sleep here, Arion. I’ll stay near you—make sure you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine, Teukros. What will the Phoenicians—”

  But she did not let him finish. “We’re brothers, Arion. Surely I should watch over you when you’ve been ill.”

  “But that shelf is very narrow and uncomfortable.”

  “It’s wide enough for me.”

  He was glad to have her close to him.

  The next day it was the same. But Arion was determined to learn more. When she came to meet him that evening, he said firmly, “Marpessa. What’s the matter? Tell me. Is Hamilcar—”

  She cut him off. “All’s well,” she said insistently and gave a fleeting smile. “I’ll explain it all when we get off the ship.”

  And he had to be content with that. If we ever get off alive, he thought grimly.

  As the ship continued to struggle up the strait, Arion noticed that, while he was still given periods of rest, his were shorter and less frequent than the other rowers. It took almost four days to get through the strait, but at last the water ahead opened into a wide sea, gleaming beneath silver clouds. The Euxine! Its name meant “hospitable sea,” and Arion, exhausted, had never seen a more welcome sight. As the current ceased and the sail opened up to the wind, he stretched his cramped body and lifted his arms to the sky in gratitude. He guessed that the roughest part of the rowing had passed. Marpessa was still acting strange and distant, but without her help as they rowed through the strait, he would certainly have died.

  Five more days to reach their goal. They stretched ahead of Marpessa interminably. The situation with Hamilcar, the tug of wills between them, became ever more unbearable. The first day when she had spread the animals’ filth over herself, he had hissed, “You wash! Plenty water in buckets. You filthy!”

  She had ignored him. Had slept on the narrow, uncomfortable plank near Arion’s rowing bench.

  The next day he shouted, “Why not sleep in own bed?”

  “I must keep an eye on my brother. He’s not well.”

  “Brother fine! Stop avoid me. You sleep where you belong!” She said nothing, and as Hamilcar stood looking down at her, something changed in his face as if he had had a revelation. His eyes darkened with an even greater rage, but he left without speaking.

  After that Hamilcar had no more words for her, only fuming silence, stares of hate, and threatening gestures—a lifted, clenched fist, an ominous hand drawn across his throat.

  She did her best to ignore him. She concentrated on her plan to steal some gold. Sometimes with a favorable wind the ship sailed through the night. When this happened, there were too many people about. But on nights when the ship dropped anchor, there would be only one or two men standing guard. While Arion, exhausted from rowing, slept deeply, Marpessa restlessly left her uncomfortable perch and prowled the ship in growing desperation. By her calculation only two more days remained until they reached Heracléa Pontica.

  On the fourth night after leaving the strait, she knew it had to be now or not at all. As she slipped off the sleeping ledge, she said a silent prayer: Athena, help me. But Athena seemed very distant, as if she had turned her face away. And Marpessa thought she knew why. Even though she had acted out of desperation, she had made a tacit bargain with Hamilcar and failed to keep it. In the eyes of the gods that was a sin.

  Still, fortune seemed to be with her. She noticed that the two Phoenicians on guard duty were sitting on the foredeck, a lamp between them, deep in a quiet conversation. Silent as a stalking cat, she crept to the stern deck, out of their line of sight, and with deft fingers unfastened the ropes that held the canvas covering in place. Her groping hands found a basket and selected by feel three sizeable ingots of gold. Glancing furtively over her shoulder, she shoved these down the front of her tunic, just above her belt. The guards had noticed nothing. Then she felt some square clay tablets. Charts. They use these to navigate the ship, she realized. These might be useful when they reached Heracléa Pontica. Tomorrow—surely tomorrow. She grabbed one of the tablets, stashed it with the gold, and, after fastening the canvas back in place, ducked down the ladder. She planned to bury the stolen goods in the straw behind the animal pen. But she dreaded going into the hold, where she would have to pass the sleeping Hamilcar and possibly others who sometimes slept there.

  Part way down the ladder, she stopped. Listened to the creaking of the ropes, the splash of waves against the hull. Heard snoring from the hold. She continued down, one hand pressed against her tunic to keep the ingots from clanging together. Moonlight made a bright square on the floor of the hold. Hamilcar’s bedding was in a corner. Three other dark shapes lay half in shadow. She tiptoed around them, not breathing. One of them stirred, muttered. She froze. He slept on. She crept to the pen, climbed over the rail, made her way past goats and sheep that raised heads to look at her. At last she reached her bedding. She buried her plunder a short distance away under layers of straw.

  She was just straightening when a stirring made her look over her shoulder. A dark shape loomed. Hamilcar! How had he gotten here so fast? She turned quickly from her buried goods, praying he hadn’t seen her hiding place.

  But he didn’t even look. He came right up to her, so close she smelled wine on his breath. “You fool me! You lie to me!” he raged. “No more fooled! Now I know.”

  Her eyes fell in horror on the object he held. Moonlight glinted along a cold, shiny blade. “Brother not your brother! You his lover boy!” He lifted the knife. “I kill you first, then him!”

  XLIII

  HERACLEA PONTICA

  U

  Marpessa leapt up like a deer, sprinted across the pen, and vaulted over the rail almost before Hamilcar could react. As she sprang up the ladder, she heard his shambling pursuit, but she was faster, more agile. She raced along the gangway to the spot near Arion’s rowing bench. Here she stopped, heart hammering. She tried to quiet her breathing. On the foredeck, the two guards were standing in the moonlight, looking her way. The wind hissed through the ropes; the quiescent ship rocked on a sudden series of waves. Crouched on the gangway, her body taut, her eyes fixed on the opening to the hold, she waited for Hamilcar’s head to appear. If he came, she would scream, she would wake the ship. But he did not come up the ladder. The wind gusted, quieted. Perhaps he wouldn’t dare attack her in the open.

  Her heart slowed and her knees went weak. One of the guards said something to her in a low voice that might have meant Go to bed. Then he turned away. Carefully she climbed down to the second tier.

  She crawled along the planking to her shelf near Arion’s bench. He stirred, raised his head groggily, looked at her with unfocused eyes, and immediately went back to sleep.

  “Arion,” she whispered, then stopped. He was always so tired from rowing that she wouldn’t wake him. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Tonight she would keep watch. She positioned her body between him and the gangway. If Hamilcar came, he could not get to Arion without waking her.

  Arion woke early to find Marpessa lying asleep half on her ledge, half on his bench, one arm out flung toward him. The gray light showed lines of strain in her face. At once she opened anxious eyes.

  “Arion—” she began, but a shout called the men to their oars. Around them, the Phoenicians, grumbling, scrambled onto their benches. Giving her a rueful glance, Arion took up his oar and began rowing. No chance to talk now. After a moment she left him and crawled up to the gangway. When she returned a short while later, she was breathing hard and holding an awkwardly shaped bundle tied in a cloth, which she slid onto the small shelf where he stowed their possessions. He noticed that she had washed herself. As she squeezed onto her sleeping shelf, her face was pale and she wa
s trembling.

  “What is it?” Arion whispered between oar strokes.

  She opened her mouth. “H-Ha—” she began, then cast a look around at the other rowers so close behind and in front of them. She shook her head and said nothing more.

  Hamilcar what? Arion worried. Around them, the sailors had begun to sing a loud, rhythmic chant as they sometimes did when the rowing was tedious, and he couldn’t ask her what Hamilcar had done. Angry, frustrated, he could do nothing except continue rowing.

  It was late morning when shouted orders directed the men on the right to ship their oars. Those on Arion’s side continued rowing, and the ship swung in an arc toward an unseen destination. There was an excited buzzing among the men. Could this mean they had reached Heracléa Pontica? The ship slowed, Arion heard the order for the dropping of anchors, and the men around him began pulling their oars in-board, stretching, and rising.

  His heart quickened as he shipped his oar. He exchanged a speaking glance with Marpessa. Escape! His mind went over their plan. Everything depended on the Phoenicians leaving only two men to guard the ship. Let there be nothing unexpected, he prayed as he followed her up to the gangway.

  They went to their usual spot near the middle of the ship and looked over the water at the small village spread out along the shore. A few fishing boats bobbed in the surf, and some lay on the sand. Curious on-lookers had gathered on the strand, and more came out of houses to stare at the ship. The Phoenician sailors formed into lines near the stern to board one of the two shore boats, some chatting eagerly, some staring out to land, their backs to Arion and Marpessa. “Now—tell me!” Arion said.

  “Hamilcar—he pulled a knife—said he’ll kill us—”

  Rage exploded in Arion’s head. “I’ll kill him!”

  “Hush!” Marpessa looked around anxiously, but no Phoenicians were nearby. The first boats started ferrying men to the shore. She quickly told Arion what had happened. He said nothing, but grimly tightened his hands into fists. “That bundle I put on your shelf,” she whispered. “I stole three gold ingots and a clay tablet that looked important from that secret area on the aft deck.”