Claiming Ariadne (24 page)

She opened her arms, and Taranos filled them. Resting beside her, his warmth burrowing into hers, he covered her mouth with kisses. Tongue and lips drank from her, devoured her. This would have been enough—just to hold him and feel his strength. But like embers stirred once more into life, desire awakened inside her. Yes, she wanted him, and had she not already been carrying his child, she would have yearned for his seed.

Taranos lingered on her breasts, nipping them till she gasped, then lapping and suckling at them till she groaned. When at last he moved down, her pussy tightened in hot anticipation—but that, she soon realized, wasn’t his intent. Pausing over her navel, he smothered her rounding belly with kisses. “These are all for you, little one.”

After a moment, he asked, “Do you think it’s a son?”

Such uncertainty was unlike him. “It could be a daughter.”

“I don’t know what to call a girl,” he admitted.

“Naming a girl is a woman’s business.”

As he slid down between her thighs, Ariadne did her best to watch. With both hands, he held her petals open, and his tongue sank deep into her slit; she felt it wiggle and probe inside her. Then, licking the very edges of her pink lips, he sucked them into his mouth. She cried out. Seeing her wetness on him made her tremble with lust. More, she wanted to see more!

She came the moment he pried apart her tightest folds and found her pearl. Moisture slicked her thighs. She could take him easily now, had she been ready. No, not yet. Impulse and long-denied curiosity made her reach for his cock. “I want to kiss it.”

Taranos indicated his approval by cupping the back of her head and brushing back her long hair. Hesitant now, not really knowing what she was doing, she touched her lips to his pink tip. Cream beaded his slit; she stuck out her tongue to lap up his seed. When he urged her on, she grasped his thick shaft and, her knuckles rasping against his crinkly hair, she pumped him.

His moans made her dare more. She wrapped a firm tongue around his head, circled it, then slid it inside her mouth. There were women, she knew, who could take a man’s full length where she managed but a little. It stretched her lips and gagged her. How she wished she’d listened more closely when the women exchanged gossip at the well and boasted of what their lips and tongues could do to a man’s cock!

After a while, he pulled out. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

Perhaps she’d done it wrong. “Are you sure?”

Taranos gave her a curious look. “Most women don’t like the taste.”

Lying back, Ariadne spread her legs. “Do you want me like this?”

“Will it hurt the baby to have me on top of you?”

“I’ve never done it this far into a pregnancy.”

Had he asked her to mount him, or get on her hands and knees, she would have happily complied. Instead, he braced his weight on his knees, so only their thighs joined. His hips ground powerfully into hers, his cock slammed hard and fast into her pussy, yet try as she might, her desire flagged. She was limp, finished, cold. As he came deep inside her, she began to cry.

Groaning, grunting, vestigial words lost in his animal lust, Taranos couldn’t respond.

His withdrawal left her feeling more desolate than ever. “I just don’t want it to be over.”

He flopped facedown beside her. “Let me rest a bit and we can start again.”

Ariadne feebly punched his arm. “That’s not what I meant.”

“As I recall, you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. So here we are in bed.”

“I don’t, and yet...”

Growling his frustration, Taranos turned onto his back with one arm flung over his eyes. “Gods! Women need to do as men do and just drop off to sleep when they’re done. But no, it’s always talk, talk, and more talk! Oh, husband, the wash is peeling off the first story! Oh, you lazy man, when are you going to fix that broken chair like you promised? Oh, you lecher, stop ogling those women at the well! They’re not that pretty! And oh, you cheap bastard, you never bring me beads and pretty scarves anymore!”

His falsetto brought tears of laughter to her eyes. “I never do that!”

“Not yet. Now if a woman is going to talk in bed, she ought to talk about fucking or how
wonderful
her man is.”

“
Are
you my man, Taranos?”

“You didn’t say if you were
my
woman.”

Ariadne sighed. “It’s too late to have a proper wedding.”

“Then you can spend all night complimenting me. It’s cheaper than having the neighbors over.”

She pummeled his chest. “And what about me?”

Taranos poked a finger into the soft pink aureole haloing her nipple. “
You?
I fuck you till you can’t stand the pleasure. What more could you possibly want? You already have caskets full of jewels.”

Somewhat mollified, she snuggled against him. “How is it you can make me laugh and forget all the terrible things going on around us, even when you’re being insufferable?”

“Because you adore me.”

Chapter 13

Ariadne shivered in the cool air of the purification room. A thin wall partitioned the dressing room into separate chambers for men and women. Frescoes on the women’s side depicted priestesses dancing with the Mistress of the Animals while sleek cats stalked birds through mint and wild sage. Junior priestesses of Hera removed her shift and sandals, and stepped down with her into the lustral basin.

Outside, the morning was already hot. Within, naked and curling her toes on the gypsum floor, she dreaded the cold water the priestesses would pour over her. When the pitcher spilled its contents along her shoulders, her skin pebbled, her nipples hardened, and it was all she could do not to flinch.

On the steps, the women wrapped her shivering body in linen and escorted her back into the dressing room where they dressed her in a new chemise. Over this, they fastened a deep red bodice and red-and-white flounced skirt. Gold hoops slid into her ears. Amethyst beads circled her neck. A young priestess combed her damp ringlets and arranged them under a simple diadem. Today she wore no paint save a touch of red ochre on her lips.

Flanked by her chaperones, she entered the rectangular chamber known as the Throne Room. When the king sat in judgment at Knossos, he occupied the high-backed, armless throne. On other occasions, various high priests or priestesses presided. Ariadne sometimes occupied the seat and breathed in opium fumes to commune with the Great Mother.

Stone benches abutted the wall on three sides. A pillared lustral basin, its true purpose long since forgotten, took up the fourth wall, directly opposite the throne.

Ariadne noted the two chairs facing the throne. At least she and Taranos wouldn’t have to stand.

Attended by priests, he entered just after she did. He wore no crown, no adornment at all, only a plain white tunic. “So this is it.” His gaze roamed the frescoed walls with their couchant griffins in painted in shades of red, soft yellow, and white. When not in use, the Throne Room was sealed, so he’d never been here before.

Minos Idomeneus led the procession of high priests and priestesses into the chamber. As the last one entered, attendants slid the doors along the polythyron closed. Ariadne looked away, reached for Taranos’s hand, and clasped it tightly when he gave it to her. She knew all these people. Her own mother was there. Kitanetos, pale and grim, took his place beside the throne.

Aktaios supplied the wine and painted vessels for the libation. All remained standing while Idomeneus tipped the gilded
rhtyon
, once for each god he invoked. How many times had he imagined this day, presiding as Minos over the priests and priestesses of Knossos? But this wasn’t going to be business as usual. Unlike his predecessors, Idomeneus eschewed the Minos’s traditional fringed garments in favor of an embroidered crimson tunic. Heavy gold bracelets clasped his wrists, and he wore his silver-studded sword. Ariadne swallowed a gasp of surprise. No Minos ever bore arms while sitting in judgment as a priest-king.

As Idomeneus relinquished the
rhtyon
and sat down, the assembled priests and priestesses also took their seats. A junior priest collected the vessels and withdrew. Only Aktaios continued to stand.

“Elaphos, priest of Poseidon, is dead,” he began. “On a summer morning one month ago, a week after bringing word that the Achaeans had landed at Katsambas, he was found dead in the storerooms under the temple workshops—in the very corridor where the Sacred King Taranos had been held under custody.

“
Had been
, I stress,” continued Aktaios, “because when Elaphos was discovered lying in a pool of his own blood, the Sacred King was no longer there. His bonds had been cut through. In fact, he was halfway to Amnissos by then.

“Did the Sacred King act alone? During the night, he was kept in darkness, secured with bonds he could not tear through or chafe. He did not know his way through the maze of passages leading up to the workshops or the east entrance—where, I might add, we also found a sentry with his throat cut.

“When the Sacred King returned, he made no secret of his guilt. He admitted before witnesses that he killed the god’s servant Elaphos. And he made no attempt to hide the sword he wore at his belt—a sword which should have been locked away with his other war gear. Who, I wonder, brought him this weapon? Who descended into the storerooms to free him and show him the way out? Who is complicit in the death of Elaphos? I will tell you who, for she is sitting there beside him. She is Ariadne, High Priestess of the Great Mother Rea.”

A priest of Zeus interjected. “If I may ask, what was Elaphos doing down in the storerooms that he was killed?”

Another priest waved him silent. “Does it matter, Sinon?”

Sinon, easily cowed, did not pursue the argument.

Kitanetos chose that moment to enter the debate. “Perhaps it does matter. Didn’t Taranos say that Elaphos threatened the High Priestess and the child she carried? And isn’t it known that Elaphos was sent to Katsambas precisely
because
he wouldn’t leave the High Priestess alone?”

Aktaios demurred. “I don’t think that is—”

“You made the appointment and told Ariadne yourself. Don’t pretend now that you didn’t.” Kitanetos pointed an accusing finger at his colleague. “And there are two senior priestesses of the Great Mother sitting here today who will verify that Elaphos was a nuisance. So I would like to know
why
the man was down in the storeroom in the first place.”

“And again,” said the priest who had reprimanded Sinon, “I don’t see that it matters.”

At this point, Idomeneus signaled to Aktaios. “Do Cretans debate these questions?”

Why was he asking? Ariadne wanted to turn to Taranos, to whisper her query in his ear, but in the tense, rarified atmosphere, she was too afraid to do more than breathe.

“Sometimes priests or priestesses commit crimes. The gods demand the truth be revealed so they may be properly placated.”

Hearing this, Idomeneus nodded gravely. “I admit I am also curious how this priest Elaphos came to be down in the storeroom in the middle of the night. Did he follow the priestess intending to harm her, or did he come independently to harm the prisoner? It seems to me that he should not have been there.”

Taranos rose from his chair. “He was there because he followed Ariadne.”

Ariadne gasped in the same breath it took the assembly to erupt into furious argument. An accused individual didn’t simply stand up and begin speaking! He spoke only when he was called upon. She instinctively reached for him and hissed at him to sit down.

Instead, he shouted over every head present. “I will defend myself!”

“
Taranos, take your seat!
”

Everyone froze when Idomeneus bellowed. Tense silence reigned in the chamber. Idomeneus cleared his throat, then continued, “We will get to you, boy. No Sacred King or prince of Tiryns is going to have his head hacked off without being heard first.”

Breathing hard, Taranos sat down.

“Since he has spoken and offered an explanation,” said Kitanetos, “perhaps he ought to explain.”

When the king didn’t answer, Aktaios anxiously looked to him. “Will you allow it?”

An irritable Idomeneus waved his hand. “Since my nephew has already disrupted the proceedings, he might as well.”

“Uncle, I would think that you’d be eager to hear what I had to say.”

Angry eyes glared at Taranos. “I would
prefer
not to have this first judgment sullied because it was not conducted in an appropriate fashion. I would
prefer
not to have men say I favored you because you are my nephew. I would
prefer
to show that Achaeans respect the gods and their elders enough to wait their turn before speaking. Now mind your tongue and give your answer.”

Taranos took several deep, calming breaths. “Elaphos was there because he followed Ariadne into the storerooms. I killed him because he seized her from behind and put a knife to her throat.”

“Is this when you ran him through with your sword?” asked Potinia. “Did you endanger the life of the High Priestess and her child?”

“What sort of man do you think I am? I couldn’t do anything. Elaphos told me to put down my sword or he would kill her; he even drew blood to prove his point. She was terrified, pleading with him, and she is not a weak woman.” Turning slightly, reaching behind him for her hand, he went on. “Elaphos was a madman. I told him right then Ariadne could lose the child, he had her so frightened. And do you know what he did? He put the knife to her belly and threatened to carve the baby right out of her so he could put his own seed there.”

Humiliated, knowing she’d done nothing wrong, yet ashamed, Ariadne stared at the floor. Tears stood in her eyes.
She is not a weak woman. She was terrified
. That was precisely how they saw her now, as weak and vulnerable. But she held her tongue. Taranos might speak out of turn, but a High Priestess knew her place. She didn’t interrupt her peers.

“Ariadne feared for her own life. She couldn’t breathe—why, at one point she could no longer see the lamp because she was blinded by terror. She pleaded with Elaphos. She agreed to go with him as long as he would take her to the sanctuary of Eleuthia. She truly thought she was going to miscarry right there. Gods,
I
thought she was going to miscarry.”

Taranos had them with every word. “Elaphos wanted her, just as I did, but I never would have tried to take her like that. At least he felt some pity for her in the end. His hold loosened, he took the knife away, and she ran from him.
That’s
when I went for him, when he lunged for her with the knife. Yes, I ran him through, and when he was down, I beat the shit out of him—and I would do it again.”

“You—you
murdered
a priest of Poseidon?” Ariadne heard a priest stammer in outrage. “It wouldn’t have been enough to knock him down and...?”

In three great strides, Taranos crossed the floor and lifted the man up by his collar. “
I defended my wife! I defended my child!
”

Idomeneus was off his throne in a heartbeat. Weeping now, Ariadne covered her face with both hands and saw nothing else. She heard the shouting, she heard the king roaring at his nephew to sit down or be tied down.

Women surrounded her. Erika was there, and her mother. Thuriatris expressed concern over the baby. Did she need to go outside for some air?

No, no! Pushing them off, she stood up. “
Stop this!
”

Taranos, pinned under his uncle and three priests, stopped struggling. Idomeneus immediately seized the advantage and signaled. Achaean sentries entered, hauled Taranos to his feet between them, and marched him outside.

“Does the High Priestess wish to speak?” Aktaios asked shakily.

“May I?”

Idomeneus righted his tunic and resumed his place. In the corner, almost forgotten, the assaulted priest gasped and coughed. “Tell me you’re not going to choke anyone.”

“Don’t be absurd!” snapped Potinia. “My daughter is with child. She should be resting and making offerings to Eleuthia and the Snake Goddess to safeguard her pregnancy. She shouldn’t be sitting here in fear for her life.”

“Has anyone said she would be killed? Now sit down and let the High Priestess speak.”

No one ever spoke to Potinia like that. Startled, she obeyed instantly.

Ariadne began to speak. “Taranos asked me to be his wife. I consented. Everything he told you is true. He was defending me and the child.”

“And did you go to him with the intention of setting him free?” Where he was harsh with his nephew and abrupt with Potinia, Idomeneus was gentle with her. Perhaps he truly thought she would miscarry. “Did you take his sword to him and help him find his way out of the storerooms?”

“Yes. I meant only to guide him as far as the Western Court, where he could climb over the wall and down the hill. No one was to be killed. We went through the east entrance only because we had to flee in such a hurry.”