Machaon glanced at his brothers, bewildered.
“Tomorrow,” she said, seizing his face in her hands, “you will be taken to the crossroads which lead out of the city. You will be given horses and supplies and you will be left. You must make an offering to my Lady Hecate. Then choose the middle road and do not look back.”
“And if we do?”
“You will die and your own bones will be scattered with Pentheselia’s, exposed and unmourned. Do not look back.” Medea released him. She reached into the folds of her robes and extracted a flask, which she pressed into Machaon’s hand. “This is a sleeping draught. Such is its potency that a drop will fell a man for a day. You may have need of it.” She traced a circle on Machaon’s chest. “I ask only one thing in return.”
“And what is that?” Lycon asked suspiciously.
“If you survive, you will take me with you when you return.”
“To Troy?” Cadmus was incredulous. “You want to go to Troy?”
“When you leave Kolchis, I shall sail with you,” Medea said evenly.
For a moment there was silence, then Lycon spoke. “Surely the Princess of Kolchis does not need to beg a ride from refugees?”
Medea turned on him so furiously that his brothers moved to protect him and Lupa growled threateningly. “I do not beg,” she spat. “I require.”
“My brother meant no offence, my Lady,” Cadmus replied. “He was merely surprised… you are Medea of Kolchis…”
“It is time for my return,” Medea said, composed again. “My father is… possessive. I will leave with you.”
Machaon shrugged. If this was what it took. “As you wish, my Lady.”
Medea inclined her head. “The bargain is made then. Your sister and I will wait for you here. We will make preparations.”
The sons of Agelaus were startled. “You want Oenone to remain?”
“She is not unwilling,” Medea replied.
Machaon frowned. He did not like Kolchis. But then again, he could not imagine that the Amazonian village would be pleasant either. Perhaps it was better if they went alone. “If Oenone is willing, then the bargain is made.”
MEDEA WAS TRUE TO her word. The next morning they were given steeds, strong animals with thick coats bred to withstand the cold of the Pontian mountains. The servants of Aietes were still, for the most part, silent.
Oenone had told them herself that she would remain. “Pan asked that I look after his ship,” she said. “This is best—there is nothing I can do for you among the Amazons.”
“I’m not sure that I trust Medea,” Machaon said quietly.
“Are you sure that you trust me, Machaon?” she replied.
He smiled faintly. “Be careful here, Oenone. We will be back for you if we live.”
The nymph had knelt to Lupa. “If you perish, Lupa will return to me alone and I will know.”
A vast cavalcade of dignitaries, warriors and servants accompanied them to the walls of Aea, outside which was a crossroads where the way became three. The gates to the city were raised, and they rode out alone. Lupa ran out with them and disappeared.
“Don’t worry, she’s watching us,” Machaon assured his brothers, as he glimpsed the she-wolf exploring the way ahead. Lupa was not a hound—she would not walk at their heels.
“Gods!” Lycon whispered. The mountains loomed above them, rising higher than the clouds which formed collars around the greatest peaks. They were snow-capped and, standing at their base, the Herdsmen could already feel the biting whip of the wind. The middle road led into those mountains.
Cadmus dismounted and removed a parcel of fish and eggs from the pack animal tied to his horse. “We’d better make this offering for what it’s worth,” he said. “We should get moving.” The sky was darkening as the clouds gathered with speed.
They placed the meal at the centre of the crossroads as they had been instructed, and remounted with their backs to the offering.
“What now?” Cadmus muttered.
“I can’t remember,” Machaon admitted.
“We take the middle road without looking back,” Lycon said kicking his horse forward.
“For how long?” Cadmus asked. Surely they would need to turn at some point.
“She didn’t say… until the crossroads are out of sight, I guess.”
“What’s that?”
There was growling from behind them—vicious. The horses were startled and reared in fear. The sons of Agelaus reined the beasts in, blanching themselves at the bloodthirsty snarling and the screaming yelps with which it was interspersed. It sounded like a creature being torn limb from limb.
“Don’t look back!” Lycon warned his brothers.
“What are they?” Cadmus said as the savage sounds continued behind them.
Lycon fixed his eyes rigidly ahead. “There were hounds carved at the feet of Hecate in Medea’s chamber.”
Machaon could remember only the serpents he’d seen in Medea’s basin. “Where’s Lupa?” he said, feeling suddenly cold.
“Don’t look back!” Lycon shouted as Machaon began to the turn his head.
“That could be Lupa they’re devouring,” Machaon snapped, torn.
Now Cadmus and Lycon were also about to break their oath.
Machaon unsheathed his sword.
“What are you doing?”
Machaon held up the blade. “I’m not looking back, but I need to see what’s behind us.” He squinted at the polished bronze surface. He could see nothing but a reflection of the crossroads—no hounds, no Hecate, and, to his relief, no Lupa. Then for a fleeting moment the blade caught the light and he saw the serpents—the fanged faces he’d glimpsed in the basin—and then they too were gone.
A howl echoed in the distance.
“Mac!” Lycon pointed to the ridge ahead. The silhouetted form of a she-wolf.
They breathed easily once more.
Cadmus answered Lupa’s call and they urged their steeds into the mountains with the hounds of Hecate still baying at their backs.
Steer your ship thus and you shall find the shady grove of Ares, where a dracon, a monster terrible to behold, keeps wakeful and jealous watch over the sacred fleece hung high in the branches of a spreading oak.
Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica, Book 2
BOOK VIII
THE ROAD INTO THE MOUNTAINS was steep and narrow; soon it was no more than a trail picking through the stony desolate landscape of the Pontus. The Kolchian horses were sure-footed and sturdy beasts, and clearly eager to move as quickly as possible from the crossroads. In time the sons of Agelaus could no longer hear the chilling savagery of the phantom hounds, and their steeds fell into a steady pace.
Cadmus led the way, while Lycon rode beside Machaon. His young brow furrowed as he studied his eldest brother. There was a darkness around Machaon’s eyes, a tension. “Are you all right, Mac?”
Machaon shrugged. “Just a little tired. I slept badly… strange dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“I’m not sure. Hecate perhaps.”
“Medea said she’s beautiful.”
“She’s not.”
They rode all of that day, stopping whenever they caught sight of any small patch of pasture. Medea had warned them that the heights were barren, the grasses poor and weak. They would need to graze their beasts whenever and wherever they could. The air was thin and chilled, misting with every breath, and the golden chariot of Helios remained obscured by swirling cloud. The woods seemed sparse, the trees stunted and twisted into gnarled hands that clawed towards the sky.
When darkness spread from the east the young Herdsmen knew that Helios was returning to his palace in the west. It became bitterly cold. They tethered their horses and built a fire by the mouth of a small cave in which they could shelter that night. Occasionally the stars would emerge for a few moments through a sky of night-time cloud.
“How far are we from the Amazonian village do you think, Mac?” Cadmus asked as he
stoked the fire.
“About half a day. Medea says we’ll find the plateau if we go south from the place where the trail ends.”
“What are we going to do when we get there?”
Lycon sat closer to the fire. “I think we’re probably going to die.”
“Oh that’s cheerful!” Cadmus swiped at his head.
Machaon smiled faintly. “They won’t try to kill us.”
“Why would you think that?” Lycon asked. It seemed to him that the only certain thing was that the Amazons would try to kill them.
Machaon stared into the flames. The weight of Lupa’s head at rest on his leg braced him somehow. “Tonight we’re going to bury the casket. We’ll take only Pentheselia’s skull and breastplate with us. They will need to give us Hero if they want to know where their queen’s body lies.”
“Mac…”
“Are you sure?” Cadmus asked. “Separating her bones…”
“Pentheselia would want to help her daughter.” Machaon did not look at his brothers; he was horrified enough by what he was about to do without seeing it in their eyes as well. “She brought Hero to Agelaus to save her from the Amazons… but Ly’s right—they’ll kill us unless we have some reason to stay their blades.”
“But this? It’s—”
“We are Hero’s only hope… we can’t fail.” Machaon rubbed his face. “This is the only thing I can think of.”
Machaon’s grief was plain; his brothers resisted no further.
And so they interred all but the skull and breastplate of Pentheselia, Queen of the Amazons, within the small cave. Lycon used his dagger to scratch an epitaph in the cave wall above the grave. “In case we never return,” he murmured. “In case they kill us before we tell them where she lies.”
Machaon regarded the inscription silently. It read only “Penny”. Their father, who had known the Amazonian queen, had called her Penny.
Machaon wrapped his mother’s skull in his own cloak. For a moment his hand lingered on the remaining strands of what had once been a mane of golden red.
For their brother’s sake, Cadmus and Lycon voiced no great importance to the separation of Pentheselia’s bones. It was a desperate act, ruthless and vulgar, but it was necessary. And yet they all knew that it was an act of desecration, that though they would stand together in this, Machaon would feel it most.
That night was long and restless for all of them. In the end they abandoned sleep and sat about the embers of their fire talking of happier times.
When Eos raised her blushing palms in the east, the sons of Agelaus had mounted and were ready to begin. Lycon gazed thoughtfully at the dawn. “Perhaps we shall live to see another,” he said quietly.
Cadmus rolled his eyes. “Hopefully more than one, little brother.”
As Medea had told them, the trail grew faint and vanished entirely where the trees became dense and tall. The sun was obscured by the high canopy and so they read the lichens on the bark of the forest giants to determine their direction. The trees gave comfort to the Herdsmen whose home on Ida had been well wooded. Lupa stayed close to them here, her ears back and wary. They rode south, leaving little sign of their passing.
Then Cadmus pulled his horse to a halt sharply, raising his hand to warn his brothers. There was no sound but for the hot breathing of the steeds and the beat of their own hearts as they took in the carnage before them. It was hard to tell if the men had been Kolchian—there was little left now but withered skin stretched over bones. Each body was spread-eagled against a trunk, held there by feathered shafts which impaled them to the trees. Their eyes had been gouged from the sockets, allowing them no small dignity even in death.
Lycon put his forearm before his face, cringing from the stench. Machaon signalled them to fall back.
“What in Hades is that?” Cadmus choked.
Machaon shook his head. “A warning perhaps.”
“Subtle,” Lycon muttered.
Machaon searched their surrounds, his eyes quick and restless. “We must be close to the Amazonian village,” he said.
“They might already have seen us.” Cadmus turned his horse around.
“They won’t ambush us, Cad,” Machaon assured his brother. “It’s not their way to approach quietly.”
Cadmus shrugged. “Yes, I suppose with all the screaming and killing…”
“Well that’s our advantage then.” Lycon stilled his steed. The Herdsmen were skilled at moving unnoticed, unseen by man or god. It had allowed them to feed Troy through all the years of the siege, and to follow Odysseus across the known world.
Machaon nodded. He slipped silently off his horse. “We go on foot,” he said, removing the pack which contained Pentheselia’s skull.
Cadmus and Lycon dismounted too, and they tethered their steeds in the dappled shelter of the trees. Falling into line behind Machaon they walked past the mutilated corpses and up the steep slope. Their steps were light, soundless, and they used the trees and light to move almost invisibly. And yet they saw every disturbance and their swords remained unsheathed. Lupa left them, vanishing into the woods in her way.
And so the Herdsmen reached the plateau unseen and from the height of one of the tall, ancient cypresses which encircled the settlement, they surveyed the place in which their sister was held prisoner.
The Amazonian village stood on the plateau. Its circled paths and fortified outer halls spoke of uncompromising strength. The Herdsmen’s eyes were drawn first to a vast domed temple of bronze and marble. It stood at the village centre, like a magnificent crown, declaring both the glory and the piety of its people. Atop the dome was Ares, the god of war, carved of black stone with his immortal steeds in rein.
The smaller buildings were simple, constructed of wood and daub with no decoration but the shields and weapons which hung on the outside walls.
But there was another hall on a part of the plateau which was otherwise bare. It was bigger than the rest and surrounded by a wide band of empty land. The trees that formed its walls were alive, growing ever upward to the sky, their higher branches entwined to form an impenetrable living roof. The spaces between the trunks were woven with vines now thick with flower. The doorway was framed with stone pillars, carved with images of the Amazons at war. These pillars were bridged by an immense double-headed axe—the weapon of the Amazons chiselled from stone. At first it seemed unguarded and then they caught a movement, the ripple of scales as the creature slid from the shadows and wound itself around one of the great pillars. Lidless eyes glinted green and when the monster raised its head and opened its jaws, they could see row after row of cruel barbed teeth.
“What in Hades is that?” Lycon gasped.
Cadmus replied in awe. “It’s a dracon. I had thought them myth.”
The entrances to the smaller halls were wide and open. Though nothing ventured near the dracon or the central hall, horses wandered freely through the village and in and out of the houses. Girls, who among the Herdsmen would still have been children, trained with real and deadly weapons, whilst their younger sisters raced on horseback, moving on the beasts as if they were themselves a part of the steed.
“The Amazons have always valued their horses,” Machaon murmured as they watched.
“Their mares,” Cadmus corrected quietly. He pointed to a pen, small and ungrassed. Even within this cage the stallion was tethered and hobbled. It strained against its ropes, biting and kicking at its own flanks in its desperation. “They must keep the beast for breeding.”
Machaon sighed. There were rumours that the Amazons kept men in much the same manner.
“What if they capture us, Mac?” Lycon asked, unable to take his eyes off the stallion. “It might be worse if they let us live.”
Cadmus glanced towards the young warriors bathing by a fountain in the village. They were strong and tall and some of them were comely indeed. There was a forbidden, unpossessable quality to their beauty. “It mightn’t be that bad,” he muttered, wondering if this was h
ow Agelaus had first seen fair Pentheselia.
Machaon poked him. “Just remember that any one of those women could be your mother.”
Lycon motioned towards the large living hall. Unlike the other buildings, its vast doors were sealed. “What do you think that place is for?”
“I don’t know,” Cadmus said frowning as he scanned the rest of the village, “but it alone is sealed… and guarded by a monster.”
Machaon nodded. “I think it’s likely that Hero is being kept within it.”
“And if not?”
“If not, we shall find their queen, whoever she is now,” Machaon replied grimly. “She should know where the prisoners are kept. We’ll wait till nightfall and then we shall slip into the village and see what that dracon is guarding.”
… so did the dracon writhe and roll his countless coils as the maiden came bravely forth, calling Hypnos the god of sleep, to bring slumber to the monster… And Jason followed in fear, but the serpent, already bewitched by her song, was relaxing the long ridge of his giant spine, and unfurling like a dark wave rolling over a dormant sea; but then again it reared, eager yet to devour them both.
Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica, Book 4
BOOK IX
THEY WAITED, HIDDEN IN THE cypress, observing the movements of the fierce women who inhabited the village. At one point Lycon spotted the scarred face of the Amazon who had tried to behead him but there was no sign of Hero. Occasionally they spied Lupa on a ridge or in the trees, watching, but she did not approach or give them away. The chariot of Helios moved quickly westward and the horizon became bloody and bruised before the darkness reigned once more.
As the moon rose, the village was called to prayer by a blast of horns. The women spilled out of their various homes. Children ran beside their mothers.
“There are no babies,” Lycon murmured.
“What?”
“All the children are old enough to walk,” he said thoughtfully, “but there are no younger children in their mother’s arms. You’d think there’d be at least one or two. It’s odd.”
Trying War Page 6