Claiming Ariadne (16 page)

Next thing she knew, two sets of arms folded around her and gently held her upright. Erika hugged her tightly, while Ariadne heard Nopina firmly address the visitor. “The High Priestess isn’t well—you can see that. Now if Eleuthia’s servants say she must have the snakes, then we’ll set a proper time for the ritual, but right now, what she needs is to lie somewhere cool and rest.”

Ariadne heard Potinia snort and mutter something unintelligible under her breath. Then: “Only the serpents can tell us whether she will have trouble in her womb.”

“They didn’t do much for poor Kanako, now did they?”

A collective gasp went through the women. Even Ariadne, head buried against Erika’s shoulder, was shocked Nopina would mention the last High Priestess, whose rotting womb had brought about her death and a thin harvest.

Potinia always screwed her mouth into a tight line when challenged. Ariadne pictured it behind closed eyelids, until it matched the iciness with which her mother answered, “Their warning came too late to purify the poor woman. I came only to offer my daughter their protection—”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Erika added, “Surely you can see that asking her to undergo the rite would be too much for her to bear right now. Go now, and we’ll send for you later if she changes her mind.”

 
Potinia avoided answering the woman; she made her appeal directly to Ariadne. “Later may be too late, girl. If the infant sits awkwardly or fails to thrive in your womb, we must purify you so you don’t pollute the sanctuary of Eleuthia or any other holy place when—”

Nopina noisily cleared her throat. “
Thank
you, that is quite enough.”

Ariadne heard shuffling, then Nopina ordering the novices to disperse. “Sopata, fetch a cool cloth for the High Priestess. Sasi, bring some watered wine—and make sure it’s two parts water to one part wine. And you, Lady, are going upstairs.”

Now that her mother was gone, Ariadne tried to regain her composure. Drawing away from Erika, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she shook her head. “I need to see Kitanetos.”

Both women regarded her sternly. “You need to rest,” said Nopina.

“Taranos has been taken into custody.”

Rather than make her walk up three flights of stairs, the two priestesses made her comfortable in one of the ground floor rooms. Erika bathed her brow and neck with the damp cloth, while Nopina watched her drink the wine. And both asked questions after shooing curious novices away from the door.

“How many ships are there?”

“I don’t know, Erika. I don’t think we’re in any danger, or Taranos would have warned me to flee. It’s just...”

Erika’s fingers rearranged the ringlets about her face. “You think he lied to you?”

“Of course he lied to her,” Nopina said sharply. “Men always lie.”

Groaning, she clapped her hand over her eyes. “I don’t want my mother coming here again with her snakes.”

To her surprise, Erika defended Potinia. “She wants to protect you and your child in the only way she knows how. Haven’t all your other babies turned out well? It’s a rare woman who can say she’s never lost one.”

“I can’t bear the snakes.”

“Every woman who goes through that ritual hates them. I was fortunate when I did it that the priestess was a kind lady who could make you forget what was crawling on your belly. Your mother doesn’t try at all.”

Ariadne wanted no more of this conversation. “Send for Kitanetos, and tell the priestesses he’s to come into the house to see me. A High Priest shouldn’t have to sit outside in this heat.”

Erika did better than that and made certain the red-faced, perspiring Kitanetos had a cool drink and damp cloth when he arrived. Ariadne rose to greet him, yet he waved her back into her chair, indicating this was an informal meeting. “No need to explain. It was too early, I agree, and he’s not guilty of anything. I recall Taranos mentioning the threat of invasion on several occasions.”

Kitanetos dabbed his face with the cloth, then let it fall to his lap. “I suppose we all knew that an invasion would come sooner or later. The Minos mentioned it on a few occasions, but he seemed to believe we could rely on our trade alliances and good relations with the Achaeans to protect us. Why would they invade, he said, when we all worshipped the same gods?

“Elaphos wasted no time telling people about the invasion. Oh, I shut him up the moment I realized what he was doing. He ought to be tending Poseidon’s shrine, not stirring up panic. From what I heard about today’s incident, no one blames Taranos, no one accuses him of spying or conspiracy, but had Elaphos had enough time and an audience he would have had people believing the Sacred King knew precisely when those ships would land at Katsambas.”

Unless banished, Elaphos would never stop pouring venom into people’s ears. “He should never have been the one to arrest Taranos.”

“I gave the order to watch him, not arrest him, and I’ve given Aktaios an earful over the whole botched affair. Apparently, he issued an order to place the Sacred King in protective custody and relied on his subordinates to carry it out when he ought to have done it himself. When no one else volunteered, Elaphos seized his chance. Don’t think I don’t know why Elaphos was sent to Katsambas in the first place. He’s not to go near Taranos again. I’ve made it clear to him and Aktaios that it’s for his own safety.

“For now, Taranos is comfortable in the storerooms under the temple workshops. I’d rather keep him in my quarters as befits his station, but it isn’t well guarded. I have no doubt Taranos is honorable enough to stay where we put him. It might not be a wise idea, though.”

Ariadne stared at her lap. She felt so tired, so defeated. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Since he knew an invasion was coming, he must have thought his uncle would free him from his obligations here. Our only options are to allow him to stand as the incumbent Sacred King or be sacrificed as a transgressor and have two new candidates compete next year.” When he reached for her hand, Ariadne gave it to him and felt him squeeze her fingers reassuringly. “I know you’re fond of him. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Trussed up like a sacrificial animal and killed by the
labrys
. Ariadne couldn’t swallow past the knot in her throat. “Will I be able to see him?”

“I imagine you can.”

She nodded and tried to breathe. Then her hands dropped to her lap. “What about the child?”

His gaze followed her hands, lingered there intently. Ashen-faced, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Ariadne. Nothing like this has ever happened before. You’re blameless in this. You wouldn’t be harmed, but I truly don’t know about the child. It’s a matter for the priestesses to decide.”

Hot tears stung her eyes; she brushed them quickly away. Now was not the time to lose her composure. “Rather than expose it, would you allow a boy to be sent to Tiryns?”

“To his grandfather?” Kitanetos asked.

“Prince Kretheus has been difficult to placate. Idomeneus is his brother. Once they find out that their kinsman has been executed—”

“That hasn’t been decided yet, Ariadne.”

Of course not. She gripped both armrests and willed herself to breathe. “I know, but I need you to tell me now. Should the worst happen, I want you to send a boy-child to Tiryns along with his father’s war gear.”

His hand covered hers. “As long as the child is healthy, Aktaios and the other priests will want to avoid any unnecessary unpleasantness, and I’m certain the priestesses of the Great Mother and Eleuthia will agree. Are there any arrangements you wish to make for a girl-child?”

She found it difficult to concentrate. Regardless of what the priestesses decided, she feared offending the Great Mother. She’d watched her predecessor waste away from a rotting womb. Even after seven years, she recalled with a shudder the smell that had emanated from the woman’s foul discharge. Everything Kanako owned or touched during her illness had been burned. Even her corpse had been cremated in secret. Now no one spoke her name.

Ariadne dreaded the outcome. Would Mother Rea pollute her for letting an Achaean plant a seed in her womb? “I don’t know that they would want a daughter at Tiryns. I don’t know what to do.”

Kitanetos saw her distress. “We shouldn’t discuss this now. It isn’t good for your health to worry. Lie down and rest, and do what you can as far as your duties go. When you want to visit Taranos, I’ll have someone show you the way.”

Ariadne saw her guest to the courtyard, then stumbled up to her apartment, airless even with the shutters open, and sagged down on her bed where she sobbed into both hands. Beyond the open doorway, the priestesses left her alone, and the novices kept a respectful distance. Such a heavy air hung over the house, surely everyone already knew.

Her mother would come again with the snakes. Potinia would insist, and she would be right, but there was nothing Ariadne could do. Terror gripped her. She accepted the possibility of dying in childbirth; a woman took that risk every time she conceived. But there were worse fates. A woman could be cursed by Mother Rea. She could deliver a monster. She could die like the last High Priestess.

As far as Ariadne knew, Kanako had committed no crime against the Goddess. Through her, the Goddess had blessed the land with fertility. Though she’d had a child die in infancy and another be stillborn, Kanako’s six surviving children were all vigorous. That last pregnancy, however, went on and on into an inexplicable tenth month. Ariadne swallowed at the memory of that gray, rainy afternoon when she learned the High Priestess wasn’t pregnant, after all. She’d just turned twelve. She’d just gotten her first period two days before. Kanako congratulated her. She remembered that still, a bright spot amid the horror that came after.

Ariadne imagined foulness gushing from her womb. It had taken weeks for Kanako to succumb. So much pain and misery, and no one understood why. Ariadne buried her face in the coverlet to muffle a fresh flood of weeping. She didn’t want to die like that. She didn’t want to be burned to ashes. She didn’t want to be cursed and forgotten.

As her tears ebbed, she lay curled on her side, softly hiccupping. Now the first embers of anger began smoldering in the pit of her stomach. Taranos had done this to her. Taranos, with his easy humor and sensuous lovemaking, had made her care, only to tear her heart in two. How could he be so selfish, so oblivious to what would happen once the ships came?

When did men ever care about the messes they left behind? She would hardly be the first woman he filled with his seed and abandoned; he confessed as much when he told her about Pylia and his bastard son.

She abruptly sat up. “
I
am a High Priestess of Knossos, not some easy bondswoman who spreads her legs for everyone. Don’t think you’ve heard the last from me about this, Taranos.”

Hazy blue-gold shadows dimmed the light-well when she wearily descended the stairs. A servant led her into the dining room. Ariadne stared at the flat bread and salad of olives, cucumbers, and goat cheese tossed in oil. Food stirred no appetite in her, and she began eating only because she must. She had to stay strong. Daylight might be fading, but she still had business to attend to.

“Nopina, I want you to accompany me tonight when I see the Sacred King.”

“You think it’s wise to see him this soon?”

“No, but I can’t sleep tonight without giving him a share of my anger.”

The older priestess grunted her approval. “A woman should never bear these cares alone.”

At twilight, with supper sitting like a stone in her belly, Ariadne walked with her guide and her chaperone priestess to the buildings east of the North Hall and the sanctuary of Eleuthia. During the day, this place resonated with activity. Forges exhaled blasts of hot air and the clank of bronze and copper being hammered. A lapidary turned out fine jewelry. Potter’s wheels thrummed and creaked. Shuttles clacked over the low murmur of the weaving women. Wash cauldrons bubbled, stirred by bent-backed old women still strong enough to lift out the sodden clothes and wring them out with chapped hands.