Nobody's Prize (15 page)

Jason lowered his eyes. “You are gracious, Lord Aetes, and you give me more than I ever dreamed of asking.” He sat down in silence, and the king called for more wine.

I felt a sharp pain in my left hand. Medea had dug her fingernails into the skin. Her jaw was clenched, her face ashen, and her eyes blazing with unholy rage. “Not a word about me?” she whispered. “Not one to ask my father for permission to marry me?”

“Lady Medea, maybe Jason didn’t want to talk about that now, in front of everyone,” I murmured, trying to calm her. “He’d look too greedy if he asked Lord Aetes for his only daughter after the king just gave him not one golden fleece but fifty.”

Medea sucked in her breath with an eerie hissing sound. “You know nothing about love,” she said coldly. “Don’t speak to me again until you do.” She rose from her place, her scowl instantly becoming a look of utter meekness when she addressed Lord Aetes. “Father, may I go?” she asked, eyes downcast but voice raised to bridge the distance between the women’s table and the king’s. “So much wine…it’s given me a headache.”

Lord Aetes dismissed her without a second glance. I finished the banquet blissfully free of her presence, though I wasn’t looking forward to returning to my bed in her rooms. Fortunately, when the time to retire came, Lord Aetes’ chief servant appeared at my elbow and let me know that I’d be sleeping elsewhere that night. “The lady Medea is too ill for company,” he intoned. “You are welcome to use the queen’s apartments.”

A maidservant bearing an oil lamp guided me to my new rooms. The queen’s apartments encircled a private garden, where flowers drowsed in the moonlight. Lord Aetes had outlived all of his wives, old and young, so the royal rooms were vast and empty, but clean. Even if they teemed with ghosts, I preferred them to Medea’s company.

The maid used her lamp to light another that sat on the floor beside my bed. Since she didn’t speak my language, I had to use signs to request a jug of water and a basin for washing. Luckily, she was quick-witted and brought me everything I needed, then left.

I awoke with my fist clenching a wad of soft, supple cloth. It was the hem of a fine crimson gown adorned with an intricate pattern of leopards and grapevines. I could see every stitch of the gold thread outlining the fruit and leaves. The leopards’ eyes were tiny amber beads. I saw every detail clearly by the light of the dozen lamps surrounding my bed.

I’d gone to sleep with only one lamp, and I’d extinguished its flame myself. No matter how costly the gift, stealing into my room while I slept was an invasion, and it had Medea’s mark all over it. I traced the embroidered outline of a grapevine with one fingertip. The divine Dionysos gave us the gift of vines, grapes, and wine, but there were stories of men and women driven into violent frenzies by the god as punishment for offending him. Medea’s extreme, unpredictable passions didn’t come from wine. Perhaps it would have been better if they had. At least then I might be able to catch sight of her with a goblet to her lips and brace myself for her next eruption.

I shook out the fabric, and a strange, heavy perfume wafted from its folds. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was overpowering. I brought the cloth closer to my nose and sniffed. There was a second smell lurking beneath the thick, flowery scent. Its sour harshness refused to be smothered completely, and only a few breaths of it made me queasy. So much for the beautiful dress. I wasn’t going to wear it. Maybe that disturbing scent meant nothing, but I mistrusted the giver too much to embrace the gift. I folded it and laid it across the foot of my bed, then put out all the lamps except one.

When I woke up the next morning, the crowd of dead oil lamps around my bed was still there, though the crimson and gold dress was gone. In its place was a simple blue gown that carried no suspicious scent. Why had Medea crept back to exchange one dress for another? Had she even done this herself, or had she sent a servant to fulfill her whim? In either case, I should have sensed the presence of my midnight visitor. I’d have to be more vigilant in the future.

The new dress was very tempting. I hadn’t had fresh clothes to wear for days and I longed for the feel of clean cloth against my skin, but wariness made me hesitate. I was still holding the dress up, debating whether or not to put it on, when I heard a deliberate cough from the doorway.

“Milo!”
I was so happy to see him that I nearly knocked him off his feet. “You probably know your way around the palace already. Can you help me find breakfast? I’m starving.”

“That’s why I’m here.” There was a small basket at his feet. It held bread, cheese, figs, and some smoked meat.

I sent Milo into the corridor while I cleaned up and put on the new dress. I made sure to fasten my sword at my waist. The weathered belt looked out of place against the fine blue fabric, but after the double invasion of my room the night before, I wasn’t going to take chances.

We ate in the queen’s garden. I was halfway through my second chunk of bread when I said, “You forgot to bring—”

“—something to drink,” Milo finished. “Sorry. Do you have anything in there?” He pointed at the doorway to my room.

I shook my head. “I used all my water for washing.”

He stood up and stretched. His time aboard the
Argo
had been good to him. He’d put on healthy weight and gained a sense of confidence. He no longer looked as if he feared to wake up one day and find that his freedom was only a dream. “I’ll see what I can find, then,” he said. “There were plenty of amphorae in the crew’s sleeping chambers this morning, wine and water both.”

“Do you think there’s any left?”

“Water or wine?” He grinned.

“By the way, where are all the men?” I asked.

“The ones who aren’t busy bothering the serving girls are practicing their battle skills with Lord Aetes’ guards. There’s a training ground, but it’s a fair distance from the citadel. I think the palace weapons bearers get more exercise than the men, carrying their gear there and back.”

“Except for
one
lazybones who’s hiding in the queen’s garden instead of doing his proper work. Poor Iolaus! This is the thanks he gets for hiring you.” I was teasing, and Milo knew it.

“And what about a weapons bearer so lazy that he’d rather turn into a girl than do his job?” Milo countered, laughing.

I stood up. “A girl who can carry two amphorae of wine to your one,” I said.

“One to my three, you mean!” Milo declared, getting into the spirit. “But you’ll have to find them first.” He made a taunting face at me and darted into the palace.

I raced after him gladly, our laughter echoing through the halls. We had a few near collisions with Lord Aetes’ slaves and servants, and drew our fair share of outraged curses from stuffy palace officials, but it felt so
good
to run! Milo soon forgot all about going back to the crew’s chambers to search for those amphorae. He ran right past the doorway and didn’t give it a glance. Though my dress hindered me and my sword slapped against my left leg at every stride, I was enjoying myself.

When we’d exhausted the maze of corridors on the lower floor of the palace, Milo took our wild chase up a flight of stairs to the second level. Here the passageways were mostly narrow walkways leading to the sleeping chambers around the palace’s many courtyards. Because of my skirt, Milo outdistanced me just as we burst out of a dark corridor and into one of the open spaces. My eyes were dazzled by the sudden sunlight, but I could still see him putting even more space between us.
Oh no you don’t!
I thought, and paused to hike up the hem of my dress and jam it into my sword belt before taking off after him again.

I ran headfirst into Medea. In the scant few moments I’d paused to adjust my dress, she’d stepped out of one of the upper-level rooms and right into my path. The impact sent both of us tumbling backward onto our rumps. She yelped indignantly.

“What’s the matter with you, woman?” came a male voice. “Do you
want
your father to have me killed?” Jason strode out of the same room Medea had just left.

“It’s her fault!” Medea whined, jabbing a finger at me. “She was spying on us!”

“Why would I want to waste my time doing that?” I replied tartly.

Medea glared at me. Jason helped her to her feet and kissed her in front of me as if I were nothing but a piece of furniture. When she finally unhooked her fingers from the front of his tunic, she was smiling.

“Running around my father’s palace like this, not caring if you tear your pretty new dress! Really, Atalanta, you
are
uncivilized.” She giggled and gazed up at Jason. “See how badly she treats my gift!”

“Then isn’t it a good thing that you didn’t give her the other dress?” Jason said. “I told you she didn’t deserve it.” He turned to me, and for a moment I saw something different in his eyes. It wasn’t his usual smugness or arrogance. I might have been wrong, but it looked like a warning.

“I suppose I should thank you both, then,” I said. “This dress suits me much better than the crimson one.”

“That’s what my Jason said,” Medea replied, simpering sidelong at him. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw him cringe just a little. “I wanted you to keep the first one, but he said no. I’d die before I’d disagree with him. He even insisted on coming with me, to make sure you found the right gift waiting for you when you woke up.”

I gave Medea a hard stare. “I might not be as civilized as you, Lady, but I’ve slept under more than one king’s roof. Last night was the first time my room was entered secretly, not once, but twice. You treat the sacred trust between host and guest differently here in Colchis.”

She tittered. Either she was going to ignore my accusations or she simply didn’t believe she’d done anything wrong. “You sleep very soundly, for such a famous huntress,” she said.

“I’ll do better about that in future,” I told her. “Count on it.”

Just then, Milo appeared at one end of the walkway. He must have realized he’d lost me entirely and was now backtracking. Medea’s sharp eyes spotted him at once.

“You mustn’t waste any more time on us, dear Atalanta,” she cooed. “I see your precious
friend
has come seeking you. Better hurry to his side, before he loses interest.”

I didn’t like her insinuating tone, but before I could react, Jason spoke. “My beloved princess is right, Atalanta. There’s nothing to hold you here, in our company. In fact, I’ve got work for you.” He ducked back into his room and returned holding a pile of blankets, which he shoved at me. “Take these to the
Argo.
”

I wanted to object, but whatever else Jason was, he was still our leader. It would be childish to defy him over such a trivial command. I bowed my head and started for the stairs. “Come on, Milo!” I called back over one shoulder.

Milo tried to scamper after me, only to have Jason’s hand fall to his shoulder. “You can manage a few blankets on your own. Milo will accompany me to the training ground. I’m sure Iolaus will be happy to see that at least one of his weapons bearers is still doing his proper job.”

I had no choice. I left Milo standing there between Jason and his wild-eyed lady.
I couldn’t save Hylas,
I thought bitterly as I descended the stairs.
I can’t let anything happen to Milo.

         
10
         

A FEAST FOR THE FURIES

Three days passed before I was able to talk to Milo again. No matter how early I woke up and went to the room my friend shared with some of the other crewmen, he was never there. To my disappointment, I also failed to encounter my brothers and those Argonauts I knew and liked best. Jason, however, seemed to show up everywhere I turned, Medea clinging to him like a wet olive leaf. It was all I could do to dodge them before they spied me.

I did run into Orpheus, late in the afternoon of the second day, and asked him about the others. “I only see them at the evening meal, when I’m stuck at the women’s table,” I complained. “They
look
well, but we don’t get to exchange a single word, and afterward everyone goes to bed.”

“Argus spends his time renewing ties with his family,” the singer replied. “Iolaus and your brothers are probably exercising on the royal training ground.”

“Where is it?” I asked eagerly.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been going elsewhere to do my own sort of exercise.” He held up his lyre. “Care for a lesson?” He soon discovered I had a voice fit to frighten crows and no real interest in learning to pluck anything but a bowstring, but it was kind of him to offer.

On the morning of the third day, I was sitting on a rock just outside the citadel gate, lazily wondering whether I should explore the city below or spend the day down by the waterside, when luck let me find Milo. He was heading out with Iolaus and my brothers, his arms filled with javelins. The men all carried swords, and Polydeuces had a bow and quiver on his back.

“No need to ask where you’re going,” I said, overjoyed to see them. “I’ve been wanting to visit a good training ground for weeks, since before we left Iolkos. Give me just a moment to put on something better than this and I’ll come with you!” I tugged at the blue dress.

“The training ground’s not the place for you, Helllllanta,” Castor declared. He cast a quick glance at the guards on duty at the gate behind us.

“That’s not your decision to make, is it?” I replied sweetly.

Polydeuces laughed. “It never was. Come on, then.”

“Are you insane?” Castor spoke in an anxious whisper that only we five could hear. “She’s
supposed
to be Atalanta. You think the other men know nothing about that woman’s reputation for strength and speed, for excellence with the spear and the bow?”

“Helen’s smart,” Iolaus murmured. “She wouldn’t come to the training ground if she thought it would endanger her disguise.”

“You know I’m good with the bow and the light javelin,” I reminded Castor. “And if I can’t outpace any man on the crew in a footrace, I’ll—”

“And what if they challenge you to a sword match?” he interrupted. “You could never hope to beat any of them.”

“Oh really,” I said, planting my hands on my hips. “I seem to remember beating
you
a time or two.”

“That was different.” Castor dismissed my words with a wave of his hand. “We were children. You can’t come to the training ground just because you’re bored. You stand to lose too much if your true identity is discovered—and you’re not the only one.”

“I know all that.” I stiffened my spine. “I’m not doing this on a whim. I
need
to practice my weaponry. It’s been too long since I’ve had the chance. If fear makes me lose the skills I fought so hard to learn, then I’m the worst coward in the world. Castor, I swear by the all-seeing eye of Apollo, I have a way to use the training ground safely, without risk of discovery.” I raised my hands to the sun.

Castor still looked dubious, but Polydeuces came forward and said, “I don’t need Iolaus to tell me how quick-witted you are, little sister. If you say you’ve got a plan in mind, I trust you.”

“Thank you, Polydeuces,” I said. I wanted to embrace him, but it would have looked suspicious to the guards at the citadel gate if the aloof huntress Atalanta suddenly hugged anyone. Instead I turned a questioning look to my other brother.

Castor shrugged. “Go change your clothes,” he grumbled.

As Orpheus had said, most of the other Argonauts were on the royal training ground. I saw all our crew except for Jason, Argus, and the Thracian singer himself. Even Zetes was there, wounded leg and all, watching his shipmates show off their skills with weapons. Milo was soon busy, doing a weapons bearer’s job of fetching the javelins and arrows the men sent flying.

I soon set Castor’s mind at ease about how I’d protect my borrowed identity. To stave off any challenges I couldn’t handle, the first thing I did was issue a challenge of my own against any man who wanted to try his luck besting me in a footrace. I beat five men, including Kalais, a so-called son of Boreas, the North Wind. No one else challenged me for the rest of the morning. What man wanted to risk losing to a woman in front of all his friends?

I should’ve given some time to sword work, but I had my misgivings about that. If I made too poor a showing, the men might suspect something. I owed it to my brothers to preserve the illusion that I was Atalanta. I’d find my own time and place to practice using my blade.
Maybe I can get Iolaus to work with me later,
I thought as I went off to borrow Polydeuces’ bow.

“Come with me!” I called out to Milo. I headed for the far side of the training ground, where Lord Aetes’ guards had set up a row of straw targets. A desolate hillside rose beyond it. It was a safe place for any private conversation. “I need you to fetch my arrows.”

Milo trotted dutifully after me and stood by my side while I strung my brother’s bow. It wasn’t easy, bending a strong piece of wood that had been made for a grown man’s use, but I had to do it. It cost me a lot of sweat and a lick or two of blood when I lost my grip on the bowstring and it slashed my palm, but I won in the end.

I glanced around casually as I chose my first arrow. No one else had a taste for archery that morning. “Where have you been, Milo?” I asked quietly. “It’s been three days.”

“Working for Jason,” Milo replied, his voice low.

I frowned, setting the arrow to the bow. Anyone watching us would think I was the world’s most cautious archer, to spend so much time preparing to make my first shot. “Doing what?” My muscles strained as I pulled the bowstring back.

“Protecting you.”

The bowstring released with a loud twang, and the arrow arced through the air, barely grazing the top of the target before falling to the earth beyond it. A few of the men practicing with javelins saw my miss and called out that I’d find a spindle easier to manage than a bow. I snatched up a second arrow and buried it fletch-deep in the core of the target. The jeering stopped. Only then did I return my attention to Milo.

“That makes no sense,” I muttered. “In the first place, what protection do I need? And since when does Jason care about anyone’s skin but his own?”

“There may be more to Jason than you think,” Milo said softly. “That day in the palace when Jason made me stay behind, he told the lady Medea he had to go down to the
Argo
to make sure that the ship was being well kept while she was in port. The gods have mercy on us, you should have seen Medea’s eyes when he said that!”

“What, now she’s jealous of a
ship
?” I said. I shot another arrow. It hit the top of the target.

“He’d just sent
you
down to the
Argo,
remember? With those blankets?”

“Oh, yes.” I pretended to study the shaft of my fourth arrow for straightness. “I was grateful to him for giving me an excuse to escape Medea. She makes me nervous, Milo, even while I’m feeling sorry for her. Her mind’s badly wounded, and the gods alone know why. The gods alone can heal it.”

“Well, she was sure Jason was going to check on the ship just to have a chance to run after
you.
He swore that wasn’t so, and finally told her that he wouldn’t go to the
Argo
that day, just to please her. Then she became all honey cakes and nectar, draping herself over him like a vine. I wanted to get away, but Jason forced me to wait there until she decided she’d better go. That was when he turned to me and said, ‘
Now
do you see the danger? Your friend’s too busy pretending to be Atalanta to admit how bad it is.’”

I set aside the fourth arrow as if I’d found a flaw in it, and reached for a fifth. My hands were shaking. “He knows who I am?”

“He knows who you’re
not,
” Milo replied. “He told me, ‘I don’t care who that girl really is, runaway slave or the bastard daughter of a king. Thanks to her, I can count Atalanta among my crew, but I don’t want to count her corpse. She’s a brave young woman. I admire that. I was raised by strangers, with nothing but my own wits and nerve to get me through some hard times. I can appreciate boldness, and when I see it in a girl, of all things—! That’s a miracle worthy of the gods themselves. But it’s a miracle that will end badly if she doesn’t watch her step.’”

I fired the fifth arrow, but Milo’s revelation about Jason shook me so deeply that it went wide of the target. The Argonauts were too busy with their own exercises to notice. “That’s the last one,” I said, and Milo ran to gather up my arrows for me, leaving me a little time to ponder what he’d told me.
I’ve misjudged you, Jason,
I thought.
I don’t know what you endured, growing up the way you did, but at least you’ve let me see there’s more to you than self-preservation turned to selfishness. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to thank you for it?

When Milo came running back with my arrows, I said, “Was there anything else Jason wanted me to know?”

“That he’s going to keep his distance, for your sake, and that you should do the same. He said that the less chance there is for Medea to catch him in the company of a beautiful girl, the better for everyone.”

“If you ask me, he’s been staring into the sun too long.” A wry smile curved my mouth. “Or else he’s as mad as she is.” While I took aim, I told Milo briefly about Medea’s first “gift” to me, the crimson dress with its suspicious smell. “Jason told her I didn’t deserve it,” I said as I loosed the arrow. It was a hit, but a poor one. The memory of that uncanny gown made me shiver and had thrown off my aim. “Now I understand what he meant. I don’t know much about poison, Milo. In Sparta, the word means certain serpents that carry death in their bite, certain plants that have the power to kill with a taste.” I shaded my eyes, as if evaluating my shot. “In Colchis,
poison
means slaves who risk their lives daily to shield their masters from tainted food and drink, ordinary things that carry hidden death, and cowards who kill without giving their victims the chance to defend themselves. Jason must know that Medea is…not quite right.” I glanced at Milo and saw him nod. “Then why is he courting her? Is he afraid to turn her away? Or does he dream he’ll win all Colchis if he marries Lord Aetes’ mad daughter?”

“Not that,” Milo replied. “Her brother is Lord Aetes’ heir.”

I sniffed. “If Jason even
hinted
that he wanted the throne, Medea would destroy anyone who stood between him and his heart’s desire, even her own brother.”

“Well, he doesn’t want that,” Milo said. “All he wants is the Golden Fleece.”

“He’s getting it,” I said, firing the next arrow. “
Fifty,
in fact. He doesn’t need her to—”

“He thinks he does,” Milo said. “He’s going to take her with us when the
Argo
sails home.”

I lowered the bow and stared at him. “He’s doing
what
?”

I don’t remember much more about the rest of that morning at the training ground. It all became a blur of arrows in flight, and the repeated thud of Milo’s feet on the earth as he ran back and forth, fetching my darts from the targets. It was amazing that I managed to score so many hits. I was trying to keep my eyes on the target and at the same time be on the lookout for any sign that my brothers were preparing to head back to the palace.

I could have spared myself the effort. When they were done exercising, they hailed Milo to pick up the javelins. I went with him under the pretense of giving back Polydeuces’ bow.