Halo

by Zizou Corder

  Xαπτερ 20

  It was not the glorious entrance to her native city of which Halo had dreamed. She, flopped across a horse like a sack of potatoes; Arko, bound like a criminal; and a crowd of people gathering around them, amazed at the sight of a Centaur, wondering what was going on, making stupid comments. Her first view of the gates of Athens was from an unlikely and ignominious angle, as her head dangled over the side of the horse. She was furious at the indignity of it.

  As they approached, the rider pulled her up and set her upright. Before her, guarding the gates, were another ten or twelve silk-trousered, high-cheekboned, multi-belted men on horseback.

  ‘Captain,’ called the rider.

  One of the men turned. At the sight of his face, Halo gasped.

  He was handsome – or had been. He would be still – but his face and neck were riven with shining scars, like white wax crawling across the skin. A bright midnight-blue silk cloth was bound tightly around his head, covering one eye. Suddenly, looking at him, Halo got a strong feeling that under the silk there was no eye, just a gaping empty socket. The man’s good eye, as pale, green and icy as Spartan melt-water, seemed to dare her to mention it.

  ‘What’s this, Gyges?’ he said. His voice was low, slightly husky, with the same curious accent.

  ‘This one was trying to beat up a boy with his chain,’ said the man who had brought them in. ‘Two against one. Out on the Eleuthera road.’

  ‘He attacked us!’ Halo burst out. ‘He had a knife to my throat!’

  The Captain glanced at Halo, and at Arko. His look was cool. He seemed utterly unsurprised at the sight of a Centaur. ‘Unlikely bandits,’ he said. ‘Where’s the victim?’

  ‘I’m the victim,’ said Halo angrily. ‘The attacker ran away.’

  The Captain glanced at Arko.

  ‘It’s true,’Arko said. ‘Look at his throat.’

  And there was, on her throat, a tiny nick, a smudge of blood.

  The Captain glanced at Gyges. Gyges hung his head.

  It was about then that Halo noticed that the rest of the silk-trousered riders were staring at her. She was surprised – after all, Arko was much more extraordinary. Why weren’t they staring at him?

  It was time to be brave.

  ‘I am Halo, from Zakynthos,’ she said. ‘This is my friend Arko. We are peaceful visitors with honest business. We have news for Pericles.’

  The Captain stared at Arko with his one cool green eye, as if soaking him up. Then he turned his gaze again on Halo. It was unnerving. He didn’t blink. He had no expression at all. She supposed he was thinking, but there was no way of telling what he was thinking.

  ‘That’s not all,’ she said. ‘He was threatening our family – Arko’s family. We have to get a message to them, to warn them.’

  The Captain sniffed. ‘Follow me,’ he said, and he wheeled his horse round.

  Someone in the crowd called out, ‘It’s the Centaur! Take it to Pericles!’

  Arko rolled his eyes. ‘Him,’ he said. ‘Please, I’m a him, not an it.’

  The other horsemen didn’t take their eyes off Halo as she passed. Who are they? she thought.

  The Captain led them the short distance into the agora, the central marketplace of Athens. As they went, people turned and whispered, stared, and followed. Word had spread about Arko. The Gods had sent a mythical beast to Athens for the Grand Dionysia!

  Halo gazed around at the city. There was the Acropolis – so close! So high! So huge! Building after building was finer and larger than anything she had seen before. There was another temple, and another on a small hill, there an arcade, with fine-dressed Athenians walking beneath it. She began to to feel small. Here were shops, barbers, animals, fountains, wells, houses, marble benches, cypress trees, grassy glades, stone pavements, children running, slaves carrying shopping, musicians playing, bathhouses – oh, it was fine. And huge. My city, she thought. My people. So many of them.

  Yes, and you are accursed in this city.

  She breathed in deeply. Deep calm breathing. She didn’t know where the horseman was taking her. Suddenly, she felt very stupid to have come here, to have just arrived, unprepared, so small and insignificant. She had no idea what would happen, what to do. She was helpless. At least Arko had Apollo’s protection, and it was written on his body. She had nothing, and her tattoo meant nothing.

  She wondered if she could ask the one-eyed Captain where they were going. But even if he had been the kind of person you could just talk to, his horse was so high she doubted if he would even hear her up there. She did not want to run alongside him tugging at his silk trouser legs, crying, ‘Please, sir!’ like a beggar child.

  I’m a boy I’m a boy, and I’ve done no wrong. I’m bringing important news from Delphi. And accursed or not, I need to know my parents. Megacles and Aiella.

  It occurred to her that it might be an idea to find out about them before telling anybody that she was their child.

  The Captain pulled up his lean horse, and stopped. With a curt nod, he summoned a youth nearby and exchanged a few words with him. A group of men ahead turned, noticing the commotion around Arko. Among them was a tall man, well built, with curling grey-white hair, which reminded Halo of the way sea foam curls flat as it runs up a sandy beach. Though older, he was strong. She liked him on sight, and smiled at him. He glanced at her, and at Arko, and raised his eyebrows. The Captain, at a nod from him, bowed his head and retreated.

  A powerful man, she thought. But a kind man.

  ‘Welcome to Athens!’ he said, striding forward and holding out his hand, first to Arko, then to her. ‘I confess I have never met a Centaur before, and always thought you mythical. Forgive my rudeness. I am delighted to be proved wrong.’ He looked as if whatever he met, whoever turned up, he would greet them with the same aplomb. ‘Are you tired from your journey? I would like to speak with you at length – I am curious. But today and the days that follow we are all busy with our Dionysia. Do you stay long?’

  He seems to rule the world, she thought. Such confidence, such manners. He was the kind of man who would bring out your best behaviour. She had no idea what was best behaviour to an Athenian. She really, really wanted him to like her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I am Halosydnus. This is Arko.’

  ‘How rude of me,’ he said. ‘I am Pericles. Perhaps you would wait for me?’

  Of course they knew he was Pericles. Everyone knew the great leader, the wise man, the father of Athens, the greatest city.

  He gestured a bench. Halo sat. A small boy brought them a flask of water. They waited while Pericles talked seriously with man after man who approached him.

  ‘Arko,’ she said after a while, ‘why would Manticlas want to know where the Centaurs are?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I can’t imagine it’s for any good reason.’

  ‘No,’ she murmured, thinking of the times he had jumped her from behind, and of his cruel look of excitement when he had slaughtered the lamb and taken out its liver. ‘Nothing good.’

  They had to get a message to the Centaurs, telling them to beware of the pale boy. But how?

  ‘As soon as you’ve found out about your parents, we’ll go up to Thessaly,’ said Arko. ‘There’s time. Manticlas doesn’t know where they are.’

  ‘So, Centaur,’ Pericles said as he joined them on the stone bench half an hour later, ‘tell us everything. Start at the beginning, continue till the end, and include why your back is bandaged up, and who your friend is, and why he was beating off an assailant with a chain.’

  Pericles inspired trust immediately. So Arko told him: about the Centaurs of Zakynthos, about being discovered by humans, about the herd leaving, about what had happened at Delphi. But there are things no Centaur would ever tell a human being – where the Centaurs lived was one.

  Pericles was delighted. ‘Sons of Chiron,’ he mused happily. ‘Well, son of Chiron, humans and Centaurs have been estranged too long.’ He stared at Arko
, his eyes shrewd. ‘I am in favour of friendship between us. What do you say?’

  Arko replied, ‘I’m not the leader of my herd, but I am the one who is here, and I say yes to friendship with you.’

  Pericles smiled softly. He could see that Arko was not saying yes to friendship with all humans.

  He’s treating Arko like an adult, Halo thought. She looked at him again. He was, almost, like an adult – even though he was not much older than her.

  But Pericles had turned now.

  ‘And you, boy?’ he asked. ‘Why are you running around with a Centaur, and a tattoo on your face, beating people up? Who are you?’

  Halo stared at him. Perhaps the intensity of her feeling showed on her face at that moment, because Pericles looked at her with particular attention.

  If I tell you I am accursed, you won’t be so welcoming…

  ‘The Centaurs brought me up,’ she said. ‘They found me washed up on the beach. They called me Halosydnus and taught me and loved me. I was stolen by fishermen and brought to Sparta –’

  ‘Are you Spartan?’ he said. ‘You don’t look it.’

  ‘No, sir, certainly not. I don’t know what I am. But the Delphic Oracle told me to come to Athens, to find out. But sir, I was with the Spartans in Delphi, I heard what the Pythia said to them –’

  When she said this, the group of men standing around Pericles tautened, froze for a moment. Then: ‘Oh yes?’ Pericles said mildly. ‘And what did the Pythia say to our Spartan friends?’

  ‘I was with Melesippus, sir –’

  ‘Melesippus, eh?’ he murmured.

  ‘– and they were told – It is coming, and cannot be avoided, and if they fight with all their might, victory will be theirs. Apollo himself will be on their side, whether they invoke him or not…’

  Halo’s voice trailed away. This was really not a very good thing to have to say to Pericles, but he didn’t look too alarmed.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Interesting. If they fight with all their might…’

  And he started laughing.

  Everyone was surprised at that.

  ‘No, no, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s more than all right. I have a plan, and this confirms it to be a good one. It’s all fine. Really! And thank you, young fellow, for bringing us this news. And how was Melesippus, when you last saw him?’

  ‘Returning to Sparta, sir, to prepare for war.’

  The word hung heavy, like a thud, a footprint, a fallen rock.

  Pericles sighed. ‘Well, and so must we.’ He stood up. ‘And if the threat of war does not incline you to leave immediately, will you stay and be our guests? Aspasia will look after you… Our friend Arko can’t wander around the town with no shelter, at the mercy of the unruly folk of Athens. They’ll never leave him alone. After all, the Pythia told you to come here… and we must all listen to the Pythia, mustn’t we?’

  He started chuckling again.

  Halo wondered what he was planning. It must be something stupendous, to chuckle at the might of the Spartans and the word of the Pythia. If it had been anyone else, she would have feared that he had lost his senses. But not this man. This man clearly had a firm hold of senses she’d never even heard of.

  Pericles’s house was not far off. A shy, smiling slave boy, Tiki, accompanied them to show them the way, and admitted them to a paved courtyard. Jasmine and pomegranate trees grew in tubs, and the scent of the blossom was sweet on the air. A well at the centre gave water for them to rinse off the dust of the journey. There were seats and benches, with soft cushions and fine cloths covering them. Everything was clean. It looked like heaven.

  Halo sat nervously on a low stool, her bottom unaccustomed to the comfort of the cushion. She was very aware of how grubby she must be. And it was so strange to be in a human building with Arko. Normally if they were relaxed they would sprawl on the ground together, or she would lie on his back, or on a branch of a tree to be at the same height as him. But here, if she sat, he was too tall, and he could not lie down – even with his front legs neatly folded in, it would be too informal. So he stood, and she sat, and then stood again, and then sat again.

  After a few minutes, a woman came out. Aspasia, Halo assumed.

  If Aspasia wanted to stare at Arko, she courteously concealed it. Halo, however, could not stop herself from staring at Aspasia. It had been so long since she had seen a female at home. And she had never seen a human female in her own home. At least not one she liked.

  Aspasia was tall. She was beautiful. She was not young. She was well dressed, in a long belted chiton and a cloak of soft white cloth pinned with a gold brooch. She had gold earrings. Her hair was clean and curly, held up with a kind of comb. She was graceful. She smelt lovely. She was smiling.

  Halo could hardly believe her eyes.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Aspasia was saying. ‘Please!’ Then: ‘Oh!’ she cried, as she realized the situation with Arko – that Centaurs, of course, do not sit as humans do. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Samis! Ask Evangelus to bring a nice rug. And some honey tea.’

  A nice rug appeared. Aspasia invited Arko to lie on it. He lowered himself elegantly, and tucked his front legs under. Halo pulled her stool over to be near him. Aspasia lowered herself just as elegantly on to a cushioned bench, leaning against one arm. Halo thought perhaps she was lounging on purpose to make Arko feel less… horizontal. More at home.

  ‘Tiki says I am not allowed to ask you any questions until Pericles comes back,’ Aspasia said. ‘I hope he comes soon! I don’t think I can contain myself.’

  Halo couldn’t think of anything to say to that. If they were forbidden to talk –

  Well, they were forbidden to talk about themselves.

  ‘Is Pericles your husband, madam?’ she asked politely.

  Aspasia laughed. ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘I’m not a wife kind of woman.’ She looked quite relaxed about it. Halo had understood that marriage was very important to humans. Now she was confused.

  ‘You may know that wives have to stay at home and weave all day, and have no fun,’Aspasia said quietly, leaning forward, with a twinkle in her eye.

  Halo tried to look as if she wouldn’t know anything about that.

  ‘I don’t,’ whispered Aspasia. ‘I get to do a bit more of what I want… but look, this is no good. Let’s get rid of that chain on your wrist, and Samis will show you where to bathe, and rest, and that way I won’t be tempted to ask questions… I do want to know about that strange tattoo –’ She reached out her hand and gently rubbed her thumb across Halo’s forehead, and its peculiar marking.

  The touch brought tears suddenly to Halo’s eyes. It was the gentleness. Arko caught the look, and registered it. How lucky they were, they both thought. And again, after Pericles returned and they had told as much of their story as they dared, all was kindness. They had been brought to the house of the most powerful man in Athens, and they had found kindness.

  The next day, Arko and Halo found themselves garlanded in leaves and flowers, and Arko’s tail plaited with colourful ribbons, at the heart of the pompe, a massive procession through the city. In front of them were seven beautiful white bulls with flowers round their necks and little ring-shaped loaves of bread hanging from their wide flyaway yellow horns. They, too, stared at Arko with their huge long-lashed eyes. One of them nudged Halo with his wet, smooth muzzle, and slurped at her with his long pink tongue. It made her squeak – and trying to turn the squeak into a boyish grunt of laughter gave her a coughing fit.

  Behind them was a high wagon containing a big wooden phallus.

  ‘What’s that meant to be?’Arko asked.

  Halo, who had seen plenty of them among the Spartans, had to explain it was the human male’s private parts.

  ‘Really?’ said Arko. ‘Hmm!’ And he glanced down at where his own human belly met his horse chest. ‘So that’s what I would have if I were human. How odd… And why are they parading it about in a festival procession?’

  ‘Fertility!’ said H
alo. ‘Because it makes babies!’

  ‘Fair enough,’ murmured Arko.

  Then they were to go to the theatre.

  Tiki came running up to them and said, ‘Come on, you’re sitting with Aspasia.’

  She had kept them good seats on a wooden bench – Arko lay down in the aisle, to the delight of all around. Then the performers came out, singing and dancing and playing on flutes and lyres. Arko and Halo sat entranced as team after team of boys or men came out – fifty at a time – and did their piece in honour of Dionysus. They had never seen such a thing.

  They didn’t like it so much when the seven beautiful bulls were sacrificed to Dionysus.

  ‘If I were a God I don’t think I’d want my beautiful animals killed,’ Halo murmured to Arko.

  ‘It’s the humans’ way of doing it,’ said Arko. ‘You’d better get used to it, if you want to be one of them.’

  ‘Apparently,’ said Halo, ‘there’s a philosopher here who thinks that men created the Gods. Because our Gods look like us, and the Gods in Africa are black-skinned, like the people there, he says a horse’s God would be a horse, and therefore we must all have invented our own Gods that look like us!’

  ‘When did you hear about that?’ said Arko.

  ‘Talking to Aspasia at breakfast,’ she replied.

  ‘At breakfast! Good Gods, what a city,’Arko murmured.

  The feast was laid out on long wooden tables in the street. All the Athenians joined in the magnificent party for Dionysus. Once they realized they were allowed to, Halo and Arko ate like demons. Vine leaves stuffed with meat, honey cakes and cheeses, soups and vegetables, warm bread and good oil, meat and chicken, fish… and so much of it. Halo’s teeth sank into mouthful after mouthful, and soon she could feel her little belly sticking out of her skinny frame. She hadn’t had so much to eat since… well, ever. She thought of those raw fish on Mount Taegetus, of the long days of wild figs and fennel, and of the black soup of Sparta. Thank you, all you kind and loving Gods, for this wonderful food…

  ‘Come on,’ said Aspasia. ‘The komos will be starting soon. We’d better get home.’