by Judith Hand
Damon’s quickly raised eyebrows mirrored Pentha’s own sense of amazement.
“Let her enter,” Pentha said.
The woman was dark-haired and quite attractive in a plump, easy-going way. She seemed nervous, glancing around the tent’s reception chamber with quick eyes, as if to assure herself she would not be pounced on. But she also came quickly to the point. “My name is Nausicaa, great queen. And I’ve come on my own because Deri is in trouble and you are not only a powerful woman, you are her sister.”
“What kind of trouble? Why hasn’t she come herself?”
“I told her she should, but she refused.”
Pentha waited, tapping her finger. So Deri could be stiff-willed as well as compromising. Pentha glanced at Damon, who was studying Nausicaa intently. Damon was an excellent judge of character.
Nausicaa continued. “To be blunt, she fears for her life and the life of her children. Especially for her children. Everything Deri does is for her children.”
Damon said, “Who threatens her?”
“Deri told me that she told you she was Hektor’s mistress. Myrina is Hektor’s daughter. And Deri believes that last night the Lady Andromache sent killers to remove her and Leonides and Myrina from the city. You perhaps have no way or need to know that Hektor’s wife is—was—extraordi-narily jealous of her husband’s affections.”
Pentha felt a sudden uncomfortable shifting of her feelings, as if the ground itself had shifted. She had thought, for some reason, that Deri had been happy, content, and safe in Troy all these years. A pacified, tamed enjoyer of the benefits to be had by submitting to a man.
But Leonides was nine. Nausicaa did not say that Hektor was Leonides’ father and Pentha suddenly felt certain she knew who was. How hard it must have been for Deri to survive, to say nothing of caring for a baby boy when she arrived alone and friendless in Troy at the young age of fifteen. What might she have had to do before Hektor entered her life and gave it some stability?
Pentha felt tears threatening. “Everything Deri does is for her children,” Nausicaa had said. “You did not give her time to explain,” Damon had said. Yes, life often required explanation if there was to be understanding and compassion between two people, even sisters.
“Please, Nausicaa, sit down” Pentha called to the attendant. “Joynene, bring our guest a choice of drinks.”
Nausicaa took the chair nearest to her, but perched uncomfortably on its edge. “Deri says she has displeased you, and when I asked her to explain why she didn’t think you would help her, she just said it was complicated. Something about an Amazon matter. But I’m here because I know her well. She is a fine mother. And I don’t think things this serious are complicated at all. She desperately needs help, and you are her sister.”
Pentha felt Damon’s gaze on her. She met it. He smiled. Pentha said to Nausicaaa, “And you are right. It’s probably not all that complicated. Tell me where I can find her.”
DERINOE TURNED FROM DRYING a plate toward Nausicaa’s front door as it opened. Nausicaa hurried in, and behind her strode Pentha, dressed simply in tunic and sandals. Nausicaa had gone to Pentha!
Leonides and the two girls, who had been playing marbles, bounced to their feet, their eyes growing big as daisies when two more female warriors entered dressed in full battle gear, one with a chest the size of a man’s and the other with a monstrous scar on her cheek. The modest room suddenly seemed tiny, filled from ceiling to corners with massive Amazons.
Stunned, Derinoe simply froze with the plate and towel in her hands. Apparently to fill the strained silence, Nausicaa said the obvious. “I’ve brought your sister.”
Pentha strode across the room and stopped in front of Derinoe, her green eyes direct in their gaze. “I owe you an apology, Deri. I am profoundly sorry.”
Deri was safe! Her children were safe! She felt her knees giving way. Pentha grabbed her and Deri hugged back, suddenly flooded with relief and joy. And gratitude—to the Goddess, to Nausicaa, to the Fates.
“I love you,” she said. “And I am so glad you’ve come.”
HER ARM LINKED WITH Pentha’s, Derinoe strolled down a narrow street toward the temple to Artemis. Within moments of their reuniting they agreed that what they most wanted to do, in their mother’s memory, was to sacrifice to Artemis.
And at last, Derinoe had some reason to feel totally secure. Behind them marched a contingent of six armed Amazons. Guards accompanied Pentha whenever she moved about the city. Not one person they passed failed to stop and stare at their party. Several times women on balconies fetched friends to come see the Amazons.
They reached the temple entry, a once proud set of bronze gates depicting laurel vines and stags. The dull bronze showed its age—dents and imperfections that, in the glory days of Artemis, would always have been kept at a lustrous shine. With Pentha, she halted at white marble steps. Derinoe said, “I have so much I need to tell you. Perhaps first of all, that Myrina is Hektor’s child.”
Pentha replied simply. “Nausicaa told me that.”
“His wife, Andromache, wants to believe, or at least she wants the people of Troy to believe, that Hektor loved her alone. She is extremely jealous.” Derinoe expected a great show of surprise from Pentha, but received only a level, thoughtful stare and the comment, “What peculiar thinking.”
Pentha then added, “I apologize again, Deri, for what I said before. I’m so sorry. When you left us, Damon became quite angry. He said I gave you no time to explain anything. He was right. I’m ashamed.”
“I had decided to take Leonides and Myrina away.” Derinoe felt her skin warming. Embarrassment? No. The feeling was more like shame that she hadn’t made the decision years earlier. “When I saw the women of Themiskyra enter Troy in such strength, I decided I want to go home. I want to take the children to Themiskrya. I want Myrina, especially, to grow up free.”
Pentha broke into a dazzling smile. She grabbed Derinoe and hugged her. “I am so grateful we are together again.” Pentha took her arm and they walked up the steps. Semele had apparently been advised that the Warrior Queen was at her door. She appeared at once.
After they sacrificed and prayed, as Derinoe and Pentha turned to leave, Semele said, “Penthesilea, when the day for battle comes, I would be honored to come to the battlefield and offer sacrifices for you and the women and men you lead.”
“Semele, you honor us. I will let you know when and where.”
She and Pentha stepped into the bright light of the sun. Derinoe’s heart felt as light and bright as the sun itself. “It’s so strange, Pentha. For years I did nothing but compromise—with Hektor and Cassandra, with the whole life of Troy and its cleverly disguised enslavement of women. I tried to pretend I was happy. Sometimes—the good times with Hektor or the children—I actually thought I was happy. But now that I know I can take them home to Themiskyra, my spirit is truly at peace.”
“We all seek peace, every woman in her own way, I suppose.”
“Word will spread quickly that I have sacrificed to Artemis. When Cassandra hears, she will disown me. I don’t think she is vengeful. But I can no longer expect her help.”
“We’ll take no risks. We’ll take the children to my encampment. Now.”
58
“DON’T GET TOO CLOSE,” DERINOE CALLED TO Leonides as her son ran to where Pentha’s horse, Valor, was tethered. Myrina held Derinoe’s hand lightly and dawdled as her bright little eyes soaked up every tiny thing they could about the tents, dogs, geese, chickens, artisans, pots of cooking food, and anything else they came across. For the first time in the two days since their arrival in the Themiskyran camp, Derinoe had time to take the children exploring.
The war stallions stood in rows, their halters secured to waist-high ropes strung in lines, far enough apart and on short enough leads that they could not get into trouble with each other. Derinoe rested her hands on Leonides’ shoulders.
“He is quite fine,” Leonides gushed. “I doubt Pegasus is any g
rander, mother.”
The figure of a man moving down a lane of tents used by carpenters caught her attention. Damon. His brown, thigh-length tunic was belted at the waist with a thick band of bronze-inlaid leather.
Deri’s hand moved to her chest, over her heart. Her sister’s lover moved with commanding confidence. Damon was smaller than Achilles, but he possessed that same dominating presence: outsize shoulders and chest and powerful legs. And where Hektor’s face had been as handsome, Hektor’s eyes were almost always somber. Damon’s eyes always seemed to twinkle, as if he was always looking for the humorous side to life. An easy face. A welcoming face.
Damon stopped to talk to a carpenter repairing a supply wagon’s wheel. When he started walking again, she called out, “Damon.”
He came to them. “Discovering the camp?” he asked.
“The children are fascinated. I must say, I’m still trying to adjust to the smell.”
He chuckled, then said, “I walk the camp every day, and I also visit Valor.” He considered Leonides, who was giving Damon the same look of awe she noted in the palace. “Would you like to feed Valor some apple?” he asked Leonides.
Rapidly nodded head from her son.
Damon held his hands out in front of him, empty palms up. He then swiftly swung his hands behind his back, and then out in front again, palms up, and in one hand he held an apple.
“Ooooh,” Myrina gasped.
Leonides frowned. “How did you do that?”
“It’s magic,” Damon said, his eyes alight with deviltry. “I learned it from the same old and very clever centaur that teaches my friend, Bias.” From a sheath on his belt, he drew a short dagger and cut out a quarter of the apple. He placed the piece in Leonides’ hand. “Put it up in front of him, but be sure to keep your palm flat.”
Leonides stuck out the apple, fingers curled. Damon quickly took his hand and flattened the fingers. “Keep ‘em flat or he’s likely to bite off one or two.”
She said, “Do you have any word yet on the time of the battle?”
Valor lipped up the bit of apple and chomped on it.
Damon said, “Two days.”
“That is so soon.”
“The weather is favorable. I imagine Agamemnon’s priest found the omens favorable. So we have two more days. Our spies will let us know when significant movement begins in their camp.” He nodded to the apple. “Would you also like to offer your sister’s magnificent beast a treat?”
Deri nodded, and he cut another quarter. He took her hand, turned it palm up and opened it.
His touch sent a shock, like unexpectedly touching heated iron, through her. She caught her breath, searched his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her face. He placed the piece of apple on her palm. “Don’t forget. Fingers straight.”
Her heart racing, she held out the apple. A velvet muzzle and hot breath—and then the apple was gone. She stood there, her hand poised in the air, her breath short. This feeling about Damon was a mistake. She didn’t even want to put a name to so dangerous a mistake.
To Myrina, Damon said, “Would you like to pet him?”
“Yes, please,” said her usually shy daughter.
Damon picked up the four-year-old as easily as Derinoe might pick up a pitcher of water. He extended one arm, bent at the elbow, and sat Myrina on it, as if she were seated in a chair, then brought her close to Valor. She extended her hand just as the horse threw his head up. Myrina jerked her hand away. “Don’t be afraid,” Damon coaxed. “Try again.”
Her daughter, without hesitation, reached out and petted the stallion’s muscled jaw. Derinoe’s first thought was unbelief, but then she realized the effect Damon had on Myrina. With a child’s instinct, Myrina sensed Damon’s strength, and seated there on that powerful arm, she felt emboldened in a way she could never feel on her own.
Damon said, “Pentha’s first cavalry commander, Bremusa, wishes we wouldn’t use the Trojans. She thinks they don’t have the discipline our strategy requires. She thinks in the heat of action, they will revert to the usual battle pattern here. The two forces simply surge forward and the men engage one-on-one.”
She patted Valor’s muzzle, to calm her racing heart. “I am sick that we all meet and what we face is battle. And maybe death. Why does it have to be that way?”
“I’m convinced Aeneas understands Amazons will only be effective if the Trojans follow Pentha’s orders. If they do, we have a good chance. Of course, if Bremusa is right, we could face a disaster.”
“Could Pentha—Pentha will be in the middle of all this?” He returned Myrina to the ground and looked at Derinoe, all traces of humor in his eyes replaced by an ominous sadness. “Treasure every day you have with her, Derinoe. When an Amazon goes into battle, when a man goes into battle, there are no guaranteed happy outcomes.”
“Why must this happen? Why did the Acheans have to come here?”
“I can’t give you any satisfying answers. I can’t find any for myself. But I agree with Pentha about one thing. Themiskyra’s defense does depend in large measure on our Amazons’ reputations for ferocity. If we accomplish nothing else here, we must confirm that beyond doubt. I accept that necessity. It has to be enough for me.”
He cut the remaining half of apple in two, handed her another piece, and offered a piece to Valor, who snuffled it up.
She held out her piece to the horse. “I will pray for her. I will pray for you.”
“You know, the Acheans have been bragging that Athena has promised them a great victory. We will deny their goddess her promise.” To the children he said, “Don’t get too close to the horse’s backsides. A horse spooks easily and they kick like the mighty Pegasus.”
Damon turned his attention once more to Derinoe. Light had returned to his eyes. He smiled, turned, and walked away. She could not take her gaze off of him. Finally he disappeared behind a tent.
“Come,” she said, taking Myrina’s hand. “It’s time for lunch. Let’s visit your aunt.”
Leonides captured her gaze. “I wish I had a father like Damon. He’s strong enough to have a pet wolf.” Abruptly he turned, as if dismissing her after a scolding, and her son bolted at a run toward Pentha’s tent.
His criticism, his yearning, stung her. And she was at the same moment sharply aware just how much she shared her son’s admiration for Damon—much more than was proper that she should.
59
DERINOE FOUND PENTHA IN HER TENT, UNDRESSED and wrapped across her breasts and down to her knees in a large piece of white linen. The children rushed inside and began exploring, Leonides drawn to a sword, and Myrina, to Pentha’s white fur hat. “Whatever are you wearing that for?” Derinoe said.
“Sweating.”
“Sweating?”
“You aren’t familiar with a sweat house?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, then a great treat awaits you. You must join me. It will clear your mind and refresh your spirit.”
Pentha looked to Leonides. Her son had taken an arrow from a quiver. Pentha dashed across the room and snatched it away. “You mustn’t trifle with that one,” she said. “It’s prepared for hunting, not battle. The tip is dipped in poison that could make you sick.”
Her sister replaced the arrow in its quiver, pulled an arrow from different quiver, and handed it to Leonides.
He said, “How do you use the poison for hunting?”
“When the tip enters, the poison spreads within the animal and weakens it.”
“Does the poison kill?” he said, his face intent on Pentha’s.
“No. That is left to the huntress.”
“But could it kill?”
“My mother, Gryn, makes the poison. But, even though she could, she never makes it strong enough to kill. We want only to bring the animal down.” Pentha touched Leonides’ shoulder gently. “I once saw the death of a deer that I think must have been very susceptible. Like some people can be made very ill by bee stings. Her slow
, painful death saddened me. We need food to eat. We don’t hunt for the joy of inflicting pain or of killing.”
“I want to learn to hunt.”
“Then you shall. But for now, I want your mother to join me for a good sweat bath.”
Pentha called to the guard, who entered. “Take the children to Gryn. Ask if she can feed them, and perhaps have her tell them stories.”
After the children left, Pentha pulled out another long, white linen strip from a chest and handed it over. A screen stood at one side of the room. Derinoe stepped behind it, undressed, and wrapped herself as Pentha had done.
Near the tent, she had noted a strange little structure. Not much taller than her shoulders, it resembled an upside down bowl, entirely rounded, and covered with animal hides buried where they met the ground. She and Pentha stopped before what had to be an entry flap, although they would both have to stoop low to enter.
Pentha said, “Rocks heated there,” she pointed to a woman tending a fire some paces away, “are brought inside. We pour water over them. It will be dark. Only one small candle. The idea is to enter a place where one can think clearly, commune with oneself and with the goddess, and if your spirit is troubled, pray for peace. It’s a way to purify all of oneself, mind and spirit and body.”
She stooped, unfastened the flap—which turned out to be a double thickness of hides—and entered. Derinoe followed.
She could see little but felt furs caressing her feet. Pentha said, “It’s easiest to crawl.”
Derinoe went onto hands and knees and felt her way forward.
She felt Pentha’s hand on her arm. “Here is good.”
Pentha unwrapped the linen and sat in comfortable nakedness. Derinoe followed her example. Her vision slowly adjusted to the faint light.
They sat quietly awhile.
Pentha took up a gourd, scooped water from a pail, and splashed it over rocks piled in the little hut’s center. A great hiss of water and a blast of fresh steam washed over Derinoe. Sweat already beaded her skin and face.