Now most were standing tall in tribute to a young girl who had grown into maidenhood. In every other culture, Pandy realized as she stared about, this was also a special rite of passage.
“You thought we’d forgotten, didn’t you?” Pandy said, putting her arms around her friend.
Iole turned to face Pandy, crying all over again.
“I’m sorry.”
“Lemon rinds and olive pits,” said Alcie, coming up and ushering Iole to a seat of honor in the middle of the hall, “we’ve planned this for days. And you hinted at it enough. Us forget? As if!”
“Hinted?” Iole said, when she’d caught her breath. “I have no idea what you’re—”
“Yeah, save it,” Alcie said, kissing Iole on her cheek. As the rest of the passengers dove into bowls full of tabbouleh, olives, and curried eggplant, Alcie reached into her pouch and pulled out the small gauze bundle.
“All right, before you eat . . . presents!”
“For me?” Iole said, innocently batting her eyelashes.
“Poseidon’s teeth, I am so gonna smack you,” Alcie said. “Mine first.”
As Iole received the emerald bracelet and Pandy’s tortoiseshell hair clip, she bit her lip and tried desperately not to cry again. She knew perfectly well how precious each of these were and what they represented.
“Thank you both . . . so much,” she whispered.
“Let me tie your hair back,” Pandy said, reaching for Iole’s long dark hair as Homer slid his scroll in front of Iole.
“Homer, you didn’t have to . . . uh . . . gods . . . hacking and punching? I . . . oh, joy unfettered . . . I can’t wait! Thank you.”
Pandy reached in her bag to pull out Hephaestus’s gift when she saw two little girls coming toward Iole, hands cupped, hiding their gifts. One little girl gave Iole a single red glass bead. The other girl presented Iole with the thinnest strand of pink silk, worn and frayed, which Iole recognized as having been around the girl’s neck only hours before. Iole knew that anything of real value had been taken from everyone by the kidnappers in Africa, so for these two to part with such small treasures was an act of monumental generosity.
“Thank you. Here,” she said softly to both, “let’s put this onto this!” She strung the bead on the silk and doubled it around her wrist. “Okay?”
The two girls nodded in agreement and Iole hugged them both tightly, then looked at Pandy and Alcie, her eyes wet again.
“Sour cantaloupes,” Alcie muttered to Pandy, “outdone by little plebe-os!”
“Oh please, we’re all outdone by these . . .”
Pandy then presented the earrings from Hephaestus and Iole was stunned into silence. She stared at the faces of her parents, their lips forming the words “We love you, daughter.” With great care, she put an earring on each ear, then buried her head in Pandy’s shoulder and sobbed.
After a moment, Pandy felt a tapping on her arm. Turning, she found the Arabian cucumber salesman and one of his young sons.
“If I may also present a gift?” said the man, pushing his son forward. “I would like for Iole to have my son Behrooz as a husband. His name, as you may know, means ‘lucky,’ and that is what Iole will be if she consents to—”
“Apples,” said Alcie.
Pandy’s mind raced. Not only were Iole, she, and Alcie all too young to get married, the notion of Iole not making the choice herself when the time came was abhorrent.
“No, thank you,” Pandy replied as Iole looked at the wide-eyed young boy, no older than she was, standing straight as one of Artemis’s arrows.
“I realize she is a bit old for an arranged marriage, but my son is easygoing. And he will inherit a nice cucumber business.”
“No, it . . . it’s not that,” Pandy replied, pinching Iole, who had started to giggle. “It’s simply . . . that . . . that . . . she’s already married.”
“Prunes! She is?” Alcie cried.
“I . . . I am?” Iole sputtered. “Oh, indubitably, I am . . . yes, a fine youth . . . back home. Very sorry.”
“That is indeed a shame. But I honor you today, Iole.”
As he and his son moved away, Iole saw the boy slump with relief, and heard him repeat, “Allah is merciful! Allah be praised!” until his father rapped him on the back of his head.
Just then, an enormous roast boar was set down in the middle of the long table directly in front of Iole and the color drained from her face.
Pandy, Alcie, and Homer panicked until the cook quickly set a platter of rice, flatbread, hummus, and vegetables at Iole’s place. Taking their seats as the cook began to carve, they munched on almonds, figs, and tabbouleh until large plates of savory roast boar were passed to them. Ignoring Iole’s glares, they ate quickly but normally, chewing and swallowing each bite— as did everyone—at first.
Iole was calmly spreading some green olive paste on a piece of flatbread, unaware that the entire hall had gone quiet, when she heard a strange noise. Looking up, she saw Alcie breathing hard through her nose, her mouth stuffed to bursting with meat. She no longer had the ability or room to chew. And still she was pushing meat into her mouth. Suddenly, Iole saw Pandy, her plate empty but her mouth full, reach over and take a piece of boar off Alcie’s plate. Alcie slapped Pandy’s hand away hard and grabbed the piece back.
Iole became still.
Instantly, Pandy was on Alcie, trying to wrestle the meat out of her hands. Iole went to stop them, but at that moment her gaze was diverted to an actual fistfight between two men that had broken out down at the far end of the table. Then, across the hall, she saw another fight between a husband and wife, and then the two Imbrosian sisters (normally so quiet) began slapping each other for the last piece of meat on a plate. Then the little girls who had given her gifts began yelling at each other and rolling on the floor, each clutching one end of a tiny rib bone.
As Iole stood, gaping at the sheer mayhem erupting throughout the hall, she saw Homer fling his empty plate to the floor, crawl up onto the table right in front of her, and begin pulling meat off the boar, filling his mouth and smearing grease and juice all over his face. In seconds, he was joined by a dozen others, screaming and shoving, all ripping meat off the carcass.
No one could get enough. The bowls of eggplant, goat cheese, and dried fruits were upended in the fracas, but no one was eating them. Everyone only wanted the meat. Iole, in shock, was roughly thrown out of the way as the cucumber salesman clambered onto the table, kicking at Behrooz to prevent him from doing the same. Homer sent one man flying across the hall in a fury. Blood was staring to flow as people gouged each other for meat. In a matter of minutes, as if attacked by a swarm of ants, the boar was laid bare. With no more meat on the bone, everyone scrambled off the table and began scouring every millimeter of the hall for scraps, leaving the white skeleton of the boar exposed.
And that’s when Iole saw the small wisp of steam drifting slowly up from the rib cage, now cracked and fallen in upon itself. The boar, she knew, had been delivered hot, but not so hot as to keep anyone from eating. The juicy meat was all gone anyway, which meant there should have been no steam or smoke . . . or anything. Picking her way over people scurrying about the floor, she cautiously approached the carcass.
Climbing up onto the table, she crawled straight to the rib cage. Stifling a slight gag in her throat, she began picking through every bone. White and stripped clean, every one of them . . . yet still the steam continued to rise.
Finally, out of the very bottom of the pile, Iole spotted a small, blackened, sizzling rib bone. She looked around at the chaos. Everyone had touched the meat, yes, but more importantly, they had all eaten it. And it affected how they ate. She’d eaten none, so touching it with her bare hands was probably all right. But she hesitated . . .
Suddenly, in her ear, she heard two tiny voices.
“Take it, daughter,” said one earring.
Her mother’s voice.
“All will be well,” said her father.
Used to the magical ways of the gods by now, she still fought back tears of homesickness as she lunged for the bone. Grabbing it firmly, she sprang off the table and narrowly missed being walloped several times as she raced out of the hall.
She hurtled up one set of stairs, across the deck (startling a few sailors), down another set of stairs, and into her cabin. Rifling through Pandy’s carrying pouch, she pulled out the wooden box and placed it on her cot next to the still-steaming bone.
She’d never done this by herself; putting the great Evils back would always be Pandy’s task. This was Pandy’s quest, after all; she had taken the box of Evils to school and she had accidentally let it get opened. It was somewhat understood between Pandy, Alcie, and Iole that it was Pandy’s job to capture them again and physically put them in the box. But this, Iole surmised, was a lesser evil . . . overeating, perhaps, or something like that. She remembered what her parents had just said: “All will be well.” Still, she hesitated. And then, out of nowhere, the full impact of the moment sent a shock through her body. This was her Maiden Day! She was no longer a girl in anyone’s mind, and she could and would accept any challenge with the growing capabilities of a young woman. Besides that, there was no one else around. She indulged herself for a split second in thinking that the gods maybe, just maybe, gave this task to her and her alone. It was silly, but it didn’t matter; she wasn’t going to let anybody down.
She slid the hairpin from the adamant clasp, which instantly flipped up on its own. She gingerly held the black bone between her thumb and forefinger. Taking a deep breath, she opened the lid barely two centimeters, shoved the bone inside, and snapped the lid shut. Within seconds she heard the familiar sound of evil fizzling away.
She reclasped the box and slid the hairpin back into place.
Then Iole burst into tears.
“Hades’ fingernails!” she scolded herself, hiccupping once. “All I’m doing is crying.”
She placed the box back in Pandy’s pouch, straightened her new hair clip on the back of her head, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the cabin back toward the hall, feeling like she could, from then on, do anything.
“Happy Maiden Day to me. Happy Maiden Day to me,” she began to sing softly, a big smile on her face.
“Happy Maiden Day, dear daughter,” her parents chimed in.
“Happy Maiden Day to ME!”
CHAPTER THREE
All Ashore
“Unnnhh.”
“Don’t try to talk,” Iole said, moving toward Pandy. “Here, drink this.”
“Unnn-hnnn,” Pandy protested.
“Just water with a little lemon,” Iole persisted.
“Where’s Alcie?” Pandy asked, finding it difficult to focus.
“She’s right here,” Iole said, putting the water to Pandy’s lips. “Pandy, it’s after three on the sundial, you should eat something soon.”
“I will pay you every drachma I have stashed under my pallet back home,” Alcie mumbled, facedown on her cot, “if you never mention the word ‘eat’ again.”
Alcie rolled over and raised her head against the cabin wall.
“My tongue tastes like . . . did I eat . . . a toga?”
“What happened?” Pandy asked softly. “You . . . you look fine, Iole.”
“Where’s my girdle?” Alcie cried.
“It’s at the end of your cot,” Iole said. “All right, last night—”
“I can’t see my feet!” Alcie cried, staring at the bulge in her tummy. “Figs! I can’t see my feet!”
“It’s quite simple, I think. I don’t eat meat anymore; it’s the only reason I was spared,” Iole said, then she recounted all the events of the night before from the moment the roast boar had been served to the fizzling sound of evil in the box.
“Overeating,” she finished flatly. “No, more vicious than that. Binging. Gorging. One bite and you all just became ravenous.”
“The lesser evil of Gorging,” Alcie said
“All by yourself? You put it in the box?” Pandy asked.
“I did.”
“Nice,” Alcie said.
“Very,” Pandy agreed.
“When I got back to the dining hall,” Iole continued, “everyone was unconscious. Homer was the first to wake, but he was still groggy. He carried you halfway to the cabin, Pandy. Then he began feeling . . . unwell . . . so he dumped you on deck and spent the rest of the night bent over the ship’s railing. A lot of people were extremely, frighteningly sick. At any rate, I carried you the rest of the way.”
“You carried me?”
“To be precise, I dragged you.”
“Why does my head hurt?” asked Alcie, feeling a tender spot on the back of her scalp.
“Because I had to drag you, too,” Iole said. “And even though you were basically out, you kept trying to fight me, so I dragged you by your legs. Your head kinda hit the stairs coming down. I got you both onto your cots. You just slept, Alce, but Pandy, you were incredibly sick all night, and you missed first meal, which is why I think you need to eat a little—”
“My head bounced off the stairs?”
“Only the back of it,” Iole said, turning away, stifling a smile. “Your face is fine.”
“Apricots. Iole, when I am able to get off this cot . . . ,” Alcie hissed.
Just then there was a hard knock at the cabin door.
“Mid-meal,” came the cook’s voice, unusually gruff.
Iole hurriedly opened the door and, thanking the cook, who glowered at her as he left, took a tray with three plates and set it on the end of her cot.
“Why did he bring it to us?” Pandy asked. “Why aren’t we eating in the dining hall?”
“Well, alpha, the cook doesn’t want us back in the dining hall. He feels that because I was immune to the chaos last night, I must have had something to do with it,” Iole answered. “And, beta, we’re the only ones left onboard, so he’s basically got very little to do.”
“What? Why?” Pandy asked, sitting up slowly. “Why only us?”
“Everyone, even if they still weren’t feeling well, demanded to disembark on the island of Euboea early this morning, including a few of the sailors and people whose homes are even farther to the north. They all think the ship is haunted. They’d rather walk or wait for another ship. The captain would have put us off as well, but I showed him how sick you both were. Now he’s just trying to sail the ship as fast as possible into the Pagasaean Gulf and to Iolcus. We must be close.”
“Iole, what about the Eye of Horus? Why didn’t you try that on us?” Pandy asked.
“Yeah,” Alcie said. “If a tiny Egyptian amulet can heal a dead Pharaoh, or whatever, then it’s good enough for me!”
“Well, first of all, it’s still around Homer’s neck. When I did go up to check on him periodically, he was bent so far over the railing, I couldn’t get at it. And second, the eye seemed to be having no positive healing effect on him whatsoever, so I believe that the eye is basically useless on god-given injuries like the effects of a pure evil— even a lesser one; for the eye to have any effect, they have to be mortally inflicted.”
“Homie!” Alcie said, swinging her legs over the side of her cot and awkwardly getting to her feet. “I’ve gotta find Homie!”
“Don’t move too fast, Alcie!” Iole cautioned, watching Alcie hurriedly fastening her girdle.
“What do you know, head-bouncer! Oh . . . oh, Gods,” Alcie cried, steadying herself before heading into the passageway.
“Come on,” said Pandy, following. “We all need some air.”
“Fine,” said Iole. “But I’m bringing food, and you’re gonna eat it.”
On deck, they found Homer by the railing, passed out from sickness and exhaustion, sailors stepping over (and occasionally on) him. After Alcie had awakened him gently and gotten him standing, and after Iole had forced everyone to take a piece of dry flatbread (Alcie promptly tossed hers into the sea), they all watched the swiftly passing coastline until
the ship turned to the west, rounded a hook-shaped peninsula, and headed north into a large bay.
Looking northeast, Pandy now saw two green mountains in the far distance and felt, instinctively, that one of these was their destination, Mount Pelion, and that the great plague of Lust would be hiding on it . . . somewhere. But what form, what shape? What would she have to battle this time? Gazing at the ring of land surrounding her, she turned to the southwest and the direction of her home, knowing that at this moment, she was closer to Athens than she’d been in months. A wave of homesickness washed over her as the ship sailed farther into the bay. Closing in on the northern shore, Pandy watched the water turn from a deep blue to an emerald green, then to a light turquoise as the water became shallower.
It was only when they were one hundred meters from the gleaming white beach at the end of the bay that Pandy realized the ship had stopped moving.
She turned to say something, but Homer had his head hung over the side, still not feeling well. Alcie was adjusting her girdle for her larger-than-usual stomach, and Iole was fiddling, eyes closed, with her new hair clip. At that moment, the captain came up behind them.
“All right,” he said, “all of you, off!”
“Allow us to get our belongings, sir,” Pandy said.
“Be quick about it.”
Ten minutes later, the four friends were back on the deck.
“Down you go,” the captain said pointing to a rope ladder slung over the railing.
“Pomegranates! We’re still at sea! Aren’t you gonna take us to shore?” Alcie cried.
“There’s silt in these waters,” the captain said, looking at Alcie with a smirk. “Probably sandbars. No telling how shallow the water is, and I won’t have this ship grounded for your sake,” the captain said.
“What about a little boat to take us in?” Pandy asked.
“There’s no silt,” Homer said, looking at the clear water.
“It comes to this,” the captain snapped. “I’m not wasting any more time on the four of you. No manpower, no boat. You can either swim the last hundred meters or you can sink. Your choice.”
Pandora Gets Heart Page 2
