Nobody's Prize (2 page)

“Pay me back by coming back,” he said. “My daughter’s life is in your hands. That’s worth more to me than a fistful of gold.” He threw his wiry arms around Milo and me in a quick hug, and walked away.

Milo turned to me with a
Now what?
look in his eyes.

“Now we go up there,” I said, pointing to where the citadel walls of Iolkos shone in the early morning sunshine. “We’ll find a pair of warriors who’ve come to Iolkos to sail with Prince Jason but who haven’t got weapons bearers to serve them. This quest may fetch more men than the Calydonian hunt. We’ll get to pick and choose from a whole mob of masters.”

Milo and I had to hike a fair distance along the shore before we reached that part of the waterfront where the great ships and their crews waited. Once again I felt my heart beat faster as I looked from one grand vessel to the next.

“Glaucus, put on your shoes,” Milo said. I ignored him. Men scurried here and there on a hundred unknown errands, or grunted under the burden of massive clay amphorae and wooden chests. Some sat mending nets, others untangling lengths of rope. The reeks of fresh pine pitch, salt, and sweat fought each other, no one winning.

“Glaucus…”
Milo’s hand fell on my shoulder and gave me a little shake.

“Oh! Sorry. Were you talking to me?”

“Were you listening?” he countered. “If you won’t answer to ‘Glaucus,’ why insist I call you by that name? I said, put on your shoes.” He gestured at the pair of sandals I was carrying slung around my neck. On the fisherman’s boat, I’d gone shoeless for better footing.

Now I was ashore, and it was pure luck that I hadn’t stepped in something disgusting or rammed a chunk of broken wood or baked clay into my foot. I knew from painful past experience how long such wounds took to heal. What warrior would hire a lame weapons bearer? I leaned against a building and put on my sandals, then announced, “Let’s get started. If the gods are with us, we’ll be serving good masters before the sun’s overhead.”

“The gods grant it,” Milo said. “How do we find
good
masters?”

“First, by finding the
Argo,
” I replied.

“And how are we going to do that?”

I waved away his question. “Easily.” I set off with a light step, arms swinging, heart full of confidence.

It didn’t last. I can’t tell you how many ships, great and small, we passed. The longer we walked along the water, the less certain I felt. I began to stare at every vessel, struggling to find a clue that would tell me beyond any doubt that it was the one we sought. All I knew was that the
Argo
would have to be
big.
Before my brothers went off with Prince Jason, all they’d talked about was how their ship would sail crewed by
fifty
heroes. I thought it would be easy to find a single vessel large enough to carry so many.

There were many big ships at Iolkos, all pulled up onto the shore to keep them safe. Their sails and masts were down to keep any sudden strong winds from carrying them away.

Then Milo said the unthinkable: “What if the
Argo
’s already sailed?”

My heart went cold. Could he be right? It was possible. It could’ve happened the day before we arrived, for all I knew.

Lord Poseidon, help me,
I prayed, fighting back the ghost of bitter disappointment.
Grant that the
Argo
hasn’t sailed without us. Master of the seas, send me a sign and I’ll make a rich thanksgiving sacrifice to you as soon as I have something worthy to offer.

Suddenly Milo tapped my arm and pointed farther down the strand. “Look there, Glaucus,” he said. My false name no longer sounded forced on his lips. I shaded my eyes and let out a yelp of joy when I spotted what he’d already seen: the ram.

It was painted in mid-leap on a green sail edged with blue. Its fleece wasn’t golden, but the next best thing, a crocus yellow brilliant enough to dazzle the eyes. You could tell that sail was still waiting to see its first voyage. When the wind blew toward me, I swear that I could smell the newness of the cloth, the tang of the dyes.

The ship itself was the largest craft in the harbor. The only reason I’d missed seeing it before was that it lay beached between other vessels, around a curve in the shoreline that disguised its length. The shallow black hull was as newly made as the sail unfurled from the single mast, the gleaming prow freshly painted with a long blue-and-red-rimmed eye for luck, to watch over the waves ahead. The prow itself curved up like a beckoning arm, and was decorated with carvings from base to tip. I was standing too far away to see whether they meant anything or were just for decoration, but I was positive that I’d get a close enough look at them soon.

“That’s it, Milo,” I said as we walked a little closer. “That’s got to be the
Argo.
I thought those other ships harbored here were big, but this…” I couldn’t help counting the short wooden poles sticking up in pairs along the side rails. I’d overheard enough sailors’ talk on the few voyages I’d made to learn those were called thole pins, and that they were used to hold the oars steady when the crew rowed. “Enough of them on this side to hold twenty-five oars steady, so there must be the same on the other. Fifty oars, fifty men, just as my brothers said. And the picture on the sail—”

“Why have they got it unfurled?” Milo asked. “The ship’s not going anywhere.”

“It must be Poseidon’s doing, a sign that he
wanted
us to find this ship,” I said. “We couldn’t ask for a better omen! Now let’s see whether the god will also help us find our new masters.” I started toward the ship, only to have Milo’s hand close on my shoulder yet again and hold me back. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Let me go first.”

“Why should I—?”

“In case your brothers are there.”

I could see he was right. The ship wasn’t deserted. My brothers very well might be there among the men who were swarming everywhere, bringing aboard and stowing supplies. I grabbed the side of another beached ship and pulled myself up to get a better view of what was happening aboard the
Argo.
Craning my neck, I caught sight of wooden storage chests being set down alongside the oars so the crew would have places to sit while they rowed. One man was examining the ropes that controlled the single sail. Another was stowing clay amphorae under the small wooden shelves at either end of the ship, as well as in the bottom of the shallow hull, taking care to distribute the weight evenly.

I let go of the other ship’s side and dropped back to the beach. “All right,” I told Milo. “You go ahead. I’ll be waiting for you over there.” I nodded toward the row of buildings along the seaside. “Bring me good news.”

It was a hard thing to have to let Milo approach the great ship without me. I loitered well out of sight, between a stone building and a shed that smelled of fish and sour wine. I didn’t like being left behind, waiting. I wanted to meet my fate head-on. I also wanted to examine every hand-span of the ship’s body to see where I’d best be able to lie low once we set sail and my brothers were on board. A smart rabbit doesn’t wait until the hounds are on her trail before she digs her burrow.

Milo came back quickly enough. He wasn’t smiling. For a moment I was terrified, imagining that the big ship with the yellow ram painted on its sail wasn’t the
Argo
after all.

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“That’s Prince Jason’s ship, all right,” he replied. “I talked to one of the crewmen overseeing the work. That is,
he
talked to
me.
Yelled at me, I mean. Told me to get out of the way so Lord Pelias’s slaves could do their work.”

“Is that why you’re wearing such a long face?” I asked. “I’ll teach him better manners.”

Milo shook his head. “Forget him. He’s nothing. The man with him, the one who called him ‘brother,’
he’s
why I’m worried. He said, ‘Let the boy be. Can’t you see he’s only hoping for a handout?’ And when I told him I wanted to earn my keep as his weapons bearer, he answered, ‘Better look elsewhere. This ship’s fully manned. We’re not looking for any extra hands.’”

“Maybe he only said that to get rid of you,” I suggested hopefully.

Milo shrugged again. “They’re still there, by the ship, and plenty of others who don’t look like slaves. Talk to them yourself. Maybe they just didn’t like my looks.”

“Then they’re fools and I wouldn’t waste my breath on them,” I said.

“You’re always too kind to me, La—Glaucus. But you mustn’t worry. Someone’s got to be ugly in this world.” He grinned.

“You’re
not
ugly,” I said hotly. And that was true. The same harsh slave’s life that had left Milo so skinny had also given him wiry muscles under sun-browned skin. He reminded me of images I’d seen of the young Hermes, thin but fit and graceful. His dark hair was growing longer, like a noble’s, and his brown eyes shone when he smiled.

“Have it your way,” he said good-naturedly. “But in case they do prefer your looks, see if you can persuade them to hire me, too. It’s safe, your brothers are nowhere in sight. I’ll wait here.”

I raced off to the
Argo.
There must’ve been at least a dozen men working on board, continuing to secure the supplies. They were all strong and carried themselves with pride, even while they labored. They didn’t have the hungry, harried look of slaves. Eight more stood aside in scattered pairs on the shore, talking earnestly. They could hardly take their eyes off the ship. Most of them smiled when they looked at her, but I noticed one or two whose expressions said,
What have I gotten myself into?

I approached one of those men first. “The gods give you a good day, sir,” I said cheerfully. “Has Prince Jason come down to the ship yet this morning?”

“How’s that any of your business, puppy?” he replied sourly. He had short hair, unlike most of the other warriors and nobles I’d met. It was silver-tipped and so bristly that he reminded me of a hedgehog.

I kept smiling. “I heard that he’s manned his voyage with plenty of heroes like yourself, but that the call came so quickly that you could do with a willing lad or two for the drudge work. Any Mykenaeans here?”

Hedgehog-hair scratched his head. “Those braggarts? I don’t think so, or we’d’ve heard their crowing by now.”

“Ah, too bad.” I pretended to be downcast. “They might’ve vouched for us.”

“‘Us’?” the man echoed. A trio of his friends were also beginning to pay close attention to what I had to say.

I jerked my thumb back over one shoulder. “My friend Milo. He’s down that way, out of sight, watering the wall to make it grow. The wall, I mean. Not much hope for the other.” I made an unmistakable gesture at the hem of my tunic. I’d seen and heard more than my share of such crude jokes passed among the Spartan soldiers. The men roared with laughter. “We were serving a pair of young warriors, Tantalus and Pelops, distant relatives of the Mykenaean royal house. They heard about Prince Jason’s quest. They were so eager to set out that they didn’t make a fitting sacrifice to Apollo before we left.”

“What’s Apollo got to do with journeys?” Hedgehog-hair demanded. “A prayer to Hermes, that’s what you need if you’re going on foot, or Poseidon, if you’re traveling by sea.”

I shook my head. “That’s what they said, even when I told them that the sun god watches over
all
travelers.”

“So, now you’re a priest, too?” This time the men’s laughter was at my expense.

I let them have their fun, then softly said, “It doesn’t take a priest to know which god’s been offended when men die sunstruck.”

My words sank into their minds, dragging down the corners of their mouths. One of them clutched an amulet he wore around his neck. Another muttered a few words under his breath. I worked hard to keep my face solemn. If I could spin thread as skillfully as I spun words, my sister, Clytemnestra, would die envying me.

“That’s harsh, lad,” one of the men said, patting me on the shoulder. “Where did it happen?”

“About five days’ march south, in wild country.” I took care to have our masters die too far away for anyone to bother confirming my story, just as I’d first made sure there were no other Mykenaeans around to call me out for lying. “We covered them with stones and made the proper sacrifices, then decided to honor our masters’ spirits by finishing their journey for them.”

Hedgehog-hair rubbed his chin, where a small black beard straggled around his jawline. “That’s noble of you, boy. Pious and practical at the same time. I wish you luck.” With that, he and the other three turned their backs on me and walked away.

I scampered after them. “Wait! Can’t any of you use a pair of able-bodied weapons bearers? The gods will reward you, for our masters’ sakes.”

The men stopped and gave me pitying looks. The shortest of the four spoke: “Lad, how do you know
what
the gods will do?” He managed a wobbly smile. “Apollo himself might still be angry. Your masters are beyond his reach, but what’s to stop him from taking it out on you?” He shook his head. “This voyage we’re about to take is off over unknown waters, to lands full of fierce barbarians, monsters, dangers so great that the praise-singers will go crazy trying to find the right words to describe our glorious deeds. We can’t afford to bring along two boys who might be carrying a god’s displeasure. Sorry, but we can’t risk it.”

The four walked on. I stayed behind, seething. “Pork-brains,” I snarled under my breath. “
Unknown
waters, yet you know there are monsters and barbarians on the other side?” I went to report my failure to Milo.

“At least you came up with a good explanation for who we’re supposed to be and why we’ve come here alone,” he said when I finished. “Which one was my master, Pelops or Tantalus?”

“Pick one and give me the leftover,” I grumped.

“Pelops, then; easier to remember. Look, it’s a big ship with a big crew. You only spoke to, what, three of the men?”

“Four.” I thought about this, then said, “You’re saying that one bad olive doesn’t mean the whole crop’s rotten, right?”

“One or even four, yes.” One corner of his mouth curved up. “Unless you’re used to getting your own way easily.”