Nobody's Prize (16 page)

“I have to talk to you and Castor,” I said. “Now.”

“There’s a pine grove on the seaward side of the path back,” Polydeuces said, keeping his voice pitched low. While he spoke, he pretended to examine his bow and arrows for any wear and tear. “You can’t mistake it. A ruined shrine lies under the trees. Go there and wait for us behind the fallen stones, out of sight of the road.” I could tell that he was dying to know what was troubling me, but he’d wait until we were safe from any prying eyes.

“Will Iolaus be with you?” I asked. “You all came down here together.”

Polydeuces glanced across the field to where Iolaus stood chatting with Tiphys, then shook his head. “If too many of us vanish into the pine grove on the way back to the palace, the others will get curious.” I saw his point and agreed. “Good,” he said. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

He began testing the sharpness of an arrowhead with the ball of his thumb. All at once, he glared at me and shouted, “Look at what you’ve done to my arrows! This thing couldn’t pierce cheese now. It serves me right for lending a man’s weapons to a clumsy woman. You may be able to handle a boar spear, Atalanta, but next time I’ll loan my gear to a cow sooner than to you!”

“Better a cow than a jackass!” I shouted back, and raced away from the training ground, blessing my brother for giving me the perfect excuse to avoid the crowd of guards and crewmen.

I found the remains of the shrine in the pine grove and settled myself down behind the weed-grown altar and waited. I saw Iolaus go by, with a laden Milo behind him earning his keep as a weapons bearer. The sound of clattering javelins, marching feet, and deep voices soon faded in the distance. Only then did my brothers arrive.

I told them everything that had happened between Medea and me. I let them know all about the message Milo had brought from Jason, and about Jason’s intention to bring the mad princess back to Iolkos. Their faces paled when I spoke about Medea’s shrine to dark Hecate.

“Hecate’s followers are all expert poisoners,” Castor said. “I’ve heard that they can make
anything
deadly to taste or touch.”

Polydeuces shook his head. “There’s more to her worshippers than that. Those who serve Hecate do learn how to make countless salves and potions, but only a few can kill. Most are blessings. Some even have the power to control love.”

“
Only
a few can kill?” Castor repeated. “One is all it takes.”

“Do you think Medea gave Jason a love potion?” Polydeuces asked.

“More like she drank one herself,” I said. “A bad one.”

“It sounds like it hit her brain as well as her heart,” Castor said. “If she still thinks you want Jason, then you’re in grave danger, Helen. It’ll only get worse if she’s coming back on the
Argo
with us.”

The thought made my mouth taste sour. “She won’t believe me, even if I swear by the river Styx that I don’t want Jason. She’s too used to listening to her own madness to try listening to the truth, and I won’t be able to avoid her forever aboard the
Argo.
” All the pity I’d ever felt for Medea was overwhelmed by how deeply I’d come to fear her. I couldn’t keep my voice from breaking. “What am I going to do?”

My brothers put their arms around me and held me tight. “It’s all right, Helen,” Polydeuces said. “She won’t harm you.”

“Not while we’re here,” Castor added.

“But what can we do to keep her off the
Argo
?” I asked. “What if I warned Lord Aetes about Jason’s plan to—?” I stopped myself. “No. If the king believes Jason’s going to run off with his daughter, he’ll kill him.”

“Maybe us, too.” Castor looked troubled. “When you hear mice in the grain, you don’t kill only one.”

“We can’t stop Medea from boarding the
Argo,
” I said. “And I can’t be safe on the same ship with her. There’s only one way around this.” I looked at my brothers. “I have to go home.”

“You mean on some other ship?” Castor shook his head emphatically. “That’s impossible.”

“Why? The harbor here is filled with ships,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean that any of them are bound for Iolkos.”

“I don’t have to go back to Iolkos.”
But I
do
have to return to Delphi,
I thought.
I can’t simply go home and leave the fisherman’s daughter pretending to be me. And Eunike will want to know that I’m all right.
“Any port on the far side of the Hellespont will do. I can find another ship from there, or travel the roads.”

“It’s much too dangerous.”

“Not as dangerous as traveling with Medea,” I replied sharply.

Polydeuces intervened. “You’re both right. I’d say that of the two choices, Helen will be safest if she finds her own way back.”

“A girl traveling alone on a voyage
that
long?” Castor protested.

“I’ve done it before,” I reminded him. “Not as a girl.”

“Yes, well, er, a few things have
changed
about you since then.” His face turned a little red.

“I know how to count days and watch the changing of the moon,” I replied. “I won’t be taken by surprise again, even if I have to spend every day of the voyage wearing a—”

“All right, all right, I believe you!” Poor Castor couldn’t wait to drop the subject. “You’ll travel as a boy again. Fine.”

“And Milo will come with me, so I won’t be making the journey alone,” I said.

My brothers exchanged a doubtful look. “She does insist that they’re only friends,” Polydeuces said.

“So far,” Castor remarked. “The boy’s young, but not
that
young. Have you looked at him lately? I wager that by the time he reaches Sparta, he’ll have a thicker beard than Father’s.”

“Why are you talking about Milo and me as if I weren’t here?” I asked angrily. “What are you afraid will happen between us? Half the Argonauts believe it already did, but that doesn’t make it so.”

“Not yet,” Castor said. “People change, especially on a long voyage.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?”

“Because now, Helen, you can have a child,” Polydeuces replied. He lifted my chin gently. “You are the next ruler of Sparta. The man you marry will be Sparta’s king, and your children will rule our land after you. If you have a baby now, that child could grow up to challenge your other children for the throne. Sparta’s enemies would be only too happy to help that child raise an army, then swoop down on our lands in the wake of the war and devour anything that remains. When you’re dead, do you want to leave your people peace or chaos?”

I didn’t have to give him an answer. We both knew it.

“Now, Polydeuces, let her be,” Castor said, hugging me again. “Look at that face! Her brow’s all creased with worry, and for nothing. As if our little sister would ever give her heart to anyone less than a prince! As if a slave’s child could ever raise an army to take Sparta!”

I whirled out from under Castor’s arm. “Milo is no slave, and he’s worth
ten
princes!”

Castor sucked in his breath sharply and looked to Polydeuces. “All right,
now
I’m worried,” he said.

“Either you trust me or you don’t,” I said. “That’s your only worry. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to the waterfront, I’m praying to Poseidon that I’ll find the ship I need, and I’m going home. As a boy. With Milo.”

My brothers smiled. “It’s good to see you so confident again,” Polydeuces said. “But not
too
confident to reject some help from your devoted brothers?”

I threw my arms around their necks. “Never.”

As soon as we returned to the palace, we took Iolaus into our confidence. He agreed that the best course for me to take was one that carried me far from Medea, and the sooner, the better. He even volunteered to help us seek out the right ship for the task.

Poseidon must have heard my prayers. The very next day, Castor and Polydeuces found a Phoenician trading vessel set to sail for Athens the following dawn. That afternoon, they had me follow them into a small, disused storeroom and gave me the news that the ship’s captain stood ready to accept two passengers, “Prince Glaucus” of Sparta and “his” devoted servant.

“And never fear, you’ll both be properly dressed for your new roles,” Polydeuces said, handing me a cloth bundle. “We came back here through the marketplace. Hermes helped us trade well for these new tunics and sandals.”

I accepted the gift gratefully, then said, “I hope I can hide this well enough, in case Medea decides to prowl my room again.”

Castor grinned. “She’ll be too busy making herself pretty for the feast.”

“What feast?” I asked.

“Word has it that Lord Aetes wants to give us our gold-laden fleeces tonight.”

When the sun was down and the moon climbed the sky, the king of Colchis offered us a banquet more spectacular than any I’d ever seen. The room was lit with oil lamps as numerous as the stars in the sky, and there were also torches held by patient slaves, flooding every crevice and corner of the place with flickering light. I smelled incense, and delighted in the songs Orpheus gave us so freely. He performed accompanied by the music of flute, lyre, hand drum, and sistrum, all ably played by young girls crowned with flowers.

The flowers were everywhere. Their fragrance mingled with the scent of burning incense and the aroma of roasted meat. Their bright colors glowed like embers in the firelight. Garlands spiraled their way up stone pillars and snaked down the length of the tables. Red, yellow, blue, and white petals drifted across the painted floor. Wherever I looked, I saw scattered wreaths of violets, ivy, and roses.

My brother Polydeuces came by to speak with me at the women’s table. “I’ve told Milo the plan,” he said softly. “He knows that he’s supposed to slip out of the palace before the gates shut at midnight and meet you on board the Phoenician ship. I still don’t like the idea of your making your way through Aea in the dark, alone.”

“I’ll be fine. But I’m going to miss you and Castor terribly.”

“And we’ll miss you. At least we’ll sail off with a memory of how happy you look tonight.”

“I am happy. You-know-who isn’t here.” I rolled my eyes in the direction of Medea’s empty chair. “I hear she’s got a headache. It must be a big one, to keep her away from seeing Lord Aetes honor her precious hero.”

“Orpheus tells me she approached him about making a praise-song recounting how Jason won the Golden Fleece. You should have heard the wild ideas she wanted him to include! Fire-breathing oxen with bronze hooves, dragon’s teeth that sprout into hosts of fully armed men, an unsleeping monster guarding the Fleece—”

“As if he needs
her
help with making imaginary monsters!” I smiled. “The closest thing I saw to a sleeping monster was one old priest, napping near the temple to Ares, where—” I caught my breath. All at once I realized exactly what Jason was planning to do and why he needed Medea so much that he was willing to woo someone so dangerously unpredictable. “The Fleece,” I muttered. “He’s going to steal the real Fleece.”

“What are you talking about?” Polydeuces asked.

I whispered the answer, telling him all about the glorious golden masterwork that hung above the war god’s altar. His eyes filled with dread. “Oh, no.
No.
He can’t even consider doing something like that. It’s worse than thievery. It’s blasphemy, desecration of Ares’ shrine, a violation of the sacred trust between host and guest. The gods will destroy him, if Lord Aetes doesn’t do it first.”

“Can you stop him?”

Polydeuces shook his head. “I’ve taken an oath of my own. On the night before we sailed from Iolkos, Jason made all of us stand before the altar of almighty Zeus and swear to follow him until the
Argo
either sank into Poseidon’s arms or returned successful. You know the fate of oath breakers.”

The Furies,
I thought. I didn’t want to speak their name aloud. Terrifying goddesses who wielded whips made of snakes and scorpions, they punished crimes that lay beyond the reach of mortal justice, and they were merciless.

I clasped my brother’s hand. “If Jason violates Lord Aetes’ trust, he’ll be the oath breaker,” I said. “I pray that when the Furies punish him for it, they’ll spare the innocent.”

“Hey! Why the long faces? Tired of waiting for the food tasters to finish their work?” Argus burst in on our muted conversation in a gust of wine and a storm of falling flower petals. He tore the wreath from his balding head and tossed it at Polydeuces. “Here, put this on while you’re waiting. Or fill your belly with wine. Don’t worry, Grandfather makes sure that the wine’s safe long before he pays any attention to the food. By the gods, how I love that man!” He belched loudly and gave us both a huge, lopsided grin. The other women at the table squealed and tittered at him behind their hands.

“Better take it easy, Argus,” Polydeuces said in a friendly manner. “You drink any more and you’ll miss the rest of the banquet.”

“So what?” Argus shot back, sticking out his chin. “If I miss this one, there’ll be plenty more in my future. I’m finally in a safe harbor, and here I’ll stay.
That
for the Pythia’s prediction!” He snapped his fingers.

His words filled me with unease. This was the same man who’d resigned himself to death because he was convinced that the Pythia was never wrong. I didn’t know why he’d cast away his faith in Eunike’s infallibility, but why did he have to flaunt his new belief this way? Scorning the Pythia’s gift of prophecy was too close to scorning the powers of the god she served, and that could be dangerous.
Apollo, pardon him,
I prayed.
That’s not Argus talking, but the wine.

Argus plowed on, unconcerned. “That babbling child claimed that if I came home, I’d die. I believed her at first, especially once I heard my stepbrother, Karos, still lived. I figured she’d had a vision of him killing me so he could hold on to his inheritance, but you know what? She was wrong. Karos is a good man. S’matter of fact, he says he’s glad to have some family back after all these years. Not like that vicious mother of his, not at all. Here’s to my brother!”

Argus grabbed the goblet from my place and tried to pour out a small libation to the gods before drinking the rest. He gaped to find it was empty. “Lady,” he said, turning his head ponderously in my direction. “Lovely lady, it breaks my heart to tell you this, but some rotten thief’s stolen your wine.”