Nobody's Prize (13 page)

“You think that will be necessary?” Jason growled, giving Argus a hard, resentful stare.

I pretended I hadn’t heard that. “A leopard! Not even Herakles could boast such a kill. He wore a lion’s pelt, but brute strength’s all you need to slay one of those beasts. You need strength
and
brains to overcome a leopard.”

“Would you really like to see the pelt?” Jason asked eagerly. I nodded. “For you, then, honored huntress,” he said in a low, honeyed voice. He leaped back aboard the
Argo
with so much vigor that Argus had to bite his lips to hold back the laughter.

“I’ll never call you ‘girl’ again,” Argus said to me. “A woman twice your age would envy your cunning!”

“If I were still ‘Glaucus,’ you’d say I was smart or clever, not cunning,” I chided him.

“Pfff! What does one little word matter?”

“So you won’t mind if I call the
Argo
a ferryboat?” I replied sweetly.

Jason returned with the leopard skin draped over his shoulders. I noticed that he’d also taken the time to put on a clean blue and green Mykenaean-style kilt and to bind his long, dark curls back with a white cord shot with gold. Rock-crystal earrings caught the lamplight as well. He smiled warmly at me, and I heard Argus snort behind my back.

“What do you think, Atalanta?” Jason purred. “Do I look more to your liking now?”

“Never mind me,” I said, taking a step closer to Argus. “It’s Lord Aetes you want to impress.”

“Not just Lord Aetes,” Jason said.

He looked at me like a hound looks at a tasty piece of meat. I wanted to get away from him, but I knew if I did that, he’d only follow. Instead I sprang toward him and grabbed the leopard pelt by one tufted ear. “Tell me about how you caught this marvelous animal!” I exclaimed. Jason would never pass up the chance to talk about the one person dearest to him. He was still gabbling about his prowess as a hunter when the leader of the Colchian spearmen returned with the news that Lord Aetes awaited us.

We didn’t make a very impressive showing as we marched from the
Argo
into the heart of Lord Aetes’ stronghold. By order of the king, only ten of the
Argo
’s crew were invited into his presence. Besides Jason and Argus, our group consisted of Acastus, Orpheus, my brothers, Iolaus, Zetes, Kalais, and me. The rest of our men were forbidden to leave the dock until Lord Aetes said otherwise. Milo was miserable.

Argus’s attendance was essential. Aside from that, it was Jason who decided who would come to the palace. There was cool calculation behind every choice he made. Orpheus, Iolaus, Zetes, Kalais, and “Atalanta” were part of the group because we were all famous, in our own ways. The divinely gifted singer, the nephew of great Herakles, the twin Harpy-hunters, and the legendary huntress were easy choices. Castor and Polydeuces accompanied us at my request. I wasn’t afraid to meet Lord Aetes, but I didn’t want my brothers to worry, having me out of their sight for so long. They’d become so protective of me that I feared they might do something foolish, like breaking the Colchian king’s ban on leaving the
Argo.
I was willing to sacrifice a little independence if it meant keeping my brothers safe. As for Acastus, he was chosen even though he was Jason’s rival for the throne of Iolkos. What better way to throw off any suspicions that Jason might be plotting against Lord Pelias’s son than by making sure to include him?

To his credit, the Colchian king saw to it that a wagon laden with fresh provisions was brought down to the ship by the same company of torchbearers assigned to escort us up to the palace. Every one of them was dressed just as richly as the spearmen, many wearing heavy gold studs in their ears. If they were servants, they were well paid. If they were slaves, then gold must be as common as pebbles in Colchis. Their appearance put ours to shame. Only Jason was dressed in something better than travel-worn garments.

The citadel gate was far more massive and imposing than the one that guarded Mykenae. The archway into the palace grounds was flanked by titanic winged beasts with writhing serpents’ bodies, taloned paws, and fangs like scythes. Watch fires burned in footed bronze pots at either side of the gate, making the creatures’ painted scales blaze blue, green, red, and gold in the flickering light. I stopped and marveled at the monsters.

“Never seen a dragon before?” Castor whispered mischievously in my ear.

“Is that what they look like?” I whistled in admiration. “I heard that a dragon guards the Fleece, but I didn’t know what sort of animal it was. Are those carvings life-size?”

“How would I know?” my brother said as we passed between the awesome guardians of the gate.

Lord Aetes’ palace was larger and more luxurious than any I’d ever known. Wherever I looked, I caught the wink and gleam of gold, the flash of brilliant colors. In spite of the wealth on display all around me, I saw that there were a few things about Lord Aetes’ palace that reminded me of home. We were brought to a waiting room just outside of the king’s great hall and offered wine, the same treatment my own father gave to ambassadors. After that, a dour, hawk-faced man came to lead us before Lord Aetes.

The king of Colchis sat on a painted stone throne, its high back crowned with the image of a dragon’s head. There was a wide fire pit between him and us, a grander version of the hearth that burned in my father’s hall. Many attendants stood against the walls, minding the lights of countless clay lamps. I peered through the smoke and dancing flames. The king was a dark-skinned man dressed in robes of dazzling splendor, a tall gold crown atop his long white hair. He looked old enough to be Argus’s grandfather, but when he gestured for his servants to bring him the bread and salt, his movements were strong and sure.

There was a second, smaller throne next to his, but it was empty. I guessed that either Lord Aetes’ queen was dead or it wasn’t the custom for her to be part of this ceremony. Then I saw a flare of scarlet and a sparkle of gold just behind the smaller throne.

“Daughter, why are you acting like a little mouse again? Come here and help me welcome our guests!” He spoke our language, out of courtesy. His command boomed like a breaking storm wave, and the lurker stepped into the light. She looked a little older than my brothers, with pale skin and dull black hair, though her eyes were remarkable, a deep, radiant amber that lit up her face. She cringed under the weight of her gorgeous robes and golden ornaments, as if she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Still, she obeyed her father, taking the bread and salt from him and serving each of us. Her hands trembled, and when I thanked her, the only response I got was a tiny gasp before she fled to the next guest. Lord Aetes watched her every move.

When we’d been properly welcomed, the king stood up and opened his arms to Argus. “My beloved grandson, I thank the gods for the joy of seeing your face again before I die. I wish with all my heart that you’d come back to us sooner.”

Argus smiled, but made no move to approach his grandfather. “You’ll have to forgive me for staying away so long, Lord Aetes. As dearly as I love you, the idea of being put to death on my return to Aea kept me away. It’s a trivial thing, the fear of losing one’s life, but it means a lot to me.”

Lord Aetes scowled. “Your father, Phrixus, was wrong to exile you, but every man has the right to rule his own family. I thought Phrixus was unjust, but I couldn’t intercede. I had a good reason.” He didn’t elaborate.

“A very good one, no doubt,” Argus drawled. “Is it going to be good enough to justify executing me now that I’m back?”

The king shook his head. “Your father and stepmother are both dead. Any quarrel you had with them is over. Your innocence and honor are not to be questioned by any man who owes me allegiance. All of your rights as a royal prince of Colchis are hereby restored.”

“All of my rights?” Argus echoed. “You mean my stepbrother, Karos, is dead, too?” Lord Aetes didn’t answer. Argus stroked his beard. “I see. Well, won’t
he
be thrilled to learn that he’s going to have to share his inheritance.”

“There will be peace between my grandsons,” Lord Aetes stated, gritting his teeth. “I will not have it otherwise. Did you come here to vex me, or to rejoin your family?”

Argus’s laughter danced with the smoke and sparks rising from the fire pit. He strode around the hearth and embraced the king. “My apologies, Grandfather, but can you blame me for snapping? Look at the two of us. My years of exile have aged me so that we could pass for brothers!”

Lord Aetes smiled and returned Argus’s hug. “That’s over now. We’ll soon have you looking your proper age. Medea! Come here and greet your nephew.” He waved for the shy young woman to approach. When he threw one arm over her shoulder and forced her to face Argus, she shuddered and shrank so that even at a distance, I couldn’t miss it. “Argus, this is my last-born daughter, Medea. She has a remarkable gift for herbal lore. I’m almost thankful that she hasn’t yet been able to attract a worthy husband, for who’d take her place, making brews to ease the pains of my old bones? Maybe one day she’ll perfect a potion to restore your lost youth, eh?”

He patted Argus on the back, then gave his attention to the rest of us. “My friends, thank you for fetching Argus home. The gods have not been kind to me. I have had four queens and many concubines, yet Medea and her younger brother, Apsyrtus, are my only surviving children, just as Argus and Karos are all the grandchildren I have left. You’ve brought me a great treasure. You are welcome here, you and the rest of your men.”

Lord Aetes summoned the same hawk-faced servant who’d guided us into his hall. “These men are my sacred guests. Send word to their ship, call all of the crewmen here at once, and prepare food, drink, and the best sleeping quarters in the palace for them. Tomorrow night we’ll give them a worthy feast. See to it!” The servant’s glum expression never changed, though he pressed his palms together in a gesture of obedience before leaving to fulfill the king’s orders.

“There! That’s done.” Aetes sat down and slapped his thighs, satisfied. “Now, my honored guests, tell me all about yourselves. I have heard that your ship carries no cargo, so I know you’re not traders. Surely you didn’t undertake a voyage solely to restore my grandson to his family?”

It was Jason’s moment to shine, and he seized it. He introduced each of us, somehow making it sound as if we owed some part of our fame to him. When he presented me as “Atalanta, the heroine of the Calydonian boar hunt,” he took pride in describing my initial masquerade as a weapons bearer. “That was all my idea. I wanted the great huntress to share in this adventure, but she was afraid of what would happen if the crew knew she was a woman.” If the real Atalanta had been there to hear it, she would have taught him a hard lesson at the point of a boar spear.

“Is that so?” Lord Aetes studied me where I stood. “She doesn’t look like the fearful type.”

“I’m not,” I said firmly. “But you know how it is with sailors, Lord Aetes: The truth never gets in the way of a good story.” I ignored Jason’s dark scowl.

The Colchian king laughed out loud. “You look very young to be so bold. Medea! Take Atalanta to your own quarters and see to her comfort.”

Lord Aetes’ daughter looked stricken. “Now?” Her glance darted from her father, to me, to Jason, where I was surprised to see it linger.

The king glowered at her. “What’s wrong with you? You heard me!”

“I—I only wanted to hear more of our honored guests, Father. They haven’t told you why they’ve come to Colchis yet.” Her voice sounded strained, as if she weren’t used to putting up the mildest argument.

“If that turns out to be any business of yours, you’ll be told. Now go, before you shame yourself in front of our guests any further.”

He might as well have slapped her face. Medea quailed, then moved quickly toward me, made an awkward bow, mumbled something in her own tongue, and escaped from the king’s hall. I presumed I was supposed to follow her. It wasn’t easy. She ran as if fleeing a pack of hunting hounds, outdistancing me until she reached a small courtyard where a fountain bubbled. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was crying. Her body shook, but the few sounds she made were smothered, as if she didn’t have the right to weep.

I approached her carefully, not wanting to add to her distress. “You don’t have to look after me if you don’t want to,” I said gently. “I’m used to taking care of myself. Just show me where I’m supposed to sleep, and—”

She looked up at me suddenly, her face streaming tears, and grabbed my hands. “How did you do it?” she asked urgently. “How did you make him love you?”

I jumped back, taken by surprise, and jerked out of her grip, so that her fingernails left long red tracks on my hands. “What are you talking about?”

“The prince of Iolkos. If I were blind, I could still see how hotly he burns for you!”

“The prince of—You mean Jason?” She had to. “Lady Medea, he doesn’t love me.”

“Why wouldn’t he love you? You’re so beautiful, and so young! He brought you on this voyage, helped shield you from the other men. How did you do it? Was it enough just to let him see your face, how gracefully you move, or did he fall in love with you after he heard about your fame as a huntress? Is that what he wants from a woman? It isn’t fair. You have so much to draw his heart to you, and I have nothing.” She wrung her hands.

I was speechless.
She must be mad, thinking she loves him! How is it possible? She just set eyes on him.
Suddenly Hylas’s image flashed through my mind, and the memory of my own reaction at the first sight of his handsome face.
But that was different!
I protested to myself.
Hylas wasn’t just handsome; he was kind, and thoughtful. Jason thinks of no one but himself. I don’t care how handsome he is, it’s a thin coating for an ugly core.

“Listen,” I said to Medea. “Take me to the shrine of whichever god you worship most faithfully and I’ll swear on the altar that I don’t love Jason and Jason doesn’t love me. As far as I know, he loves no one.”
Except himself.