“Whose spell, I wonder? And from where did Balta see all this?”
“I have not the slightest idea—neither about the spell nor about from where one could—or would—observe all that he recounted. Ordinarily, I would not have believed he did see it. I would not have believed anyone could watch without going to offer help. I would have thought it only a tale he had heard and retold when he wanted to appear old and wise. But Balta was just the person to watch Phrixos struggling out of the sea and crying his heart out for his sister and make no move at all to help. So perhaps he did see it, but why does it matter?”
“Well, we had all assumed, since no one but Pelias and Jason and perhaps the palace bard even knew who Phrixos was and, according to Pelias’ mother, Pelias was not even related to Phrixos, that Pelias’ dream must be a true sending. But if this tale you have told me is common knowledge in Thrace—”
“It is not common knowledge from where I come. I had never heard the name Phrixos until Balta mentioned it, and though I knew of the Hellespont, it was only given as the name of a place, like the Chersonesus, without any special reason for the name.”
Orpheus nodded. “They knew in Yolcos of the sea passage called the Hellespont, too, but I do not believe even now that Jason connects the name with Phrixos’ sister. But if the tale is at least known in these parts, even if not in your native place, then Pelias could have heard it from a traveler and not dreamt it at all.”
“So what?” Eurydice asked, puzzled.
“So he told the tale to be rid of Jason, not because he was haunted by the need of Phrixos’ shade.”
“Well, of course. But I always thought that was the reason he must have told Jason—I mean to be rid of him. Did not you? What does it matter whether it was a dream or a tale he had heard? You said Jason wanted to go.”
“Not on a fool’s errand.” Orpheus frowned.
Eurydice put her hand on his arm. “But it is less likely to be a fool’s errand whether there is a common tale of Phrixos’ loss of his sister or Balta actually witnessed the event. Any man can pretend to have a dream—who can deny his word? And Pelias could always claim that it was not his fault if the mischievous gods sent him false dreams.”
“That is true enough, but to say that Aietes murdered Phrixos and that Phrixos wanted the golden fleece brought back to Yolcos places a heavy obligation on Jason and might lead to dangerous actions on his part.”
“But nothing Balta said reflects on that part of the story!” Eurydice exclaimed, suddenly seeing her chance of being taken to Colchis endangered.
“No, but—”
“Do not tell Jason, at least, not yet,” Eurydice begged. “Balta said nothing of where Phrixos went after he disappeared so how did Pelias know it was Colchis?”
“Perhaps he made that up entirely.”
Eurydice shook her head. “Do you think Jason will turn back and accuse Pelias of treachery on my word alone? We have a long way to go, and Jason is bound to ask about Phrixos and Colchis. Perhaps we will hear the tale or another piece of it from someone else along the way.”
Orpheus hesitated for a moment, then smiled. He did not think what Eurydice had told him was important at the moment, and it might have no relevance at all—except for offering a minor confirmation that Phrixos had indeed traveled east on a wondrous beast—to what Pelias had dreamed. Nor did he think that Jason was such a fool as to trust Pelias implicitly. He had said he believed the dreams were true sendings when he enlisted the crew, but during their sojourn at Lemnos, Orpheus had discovered that Jason had a hard streak of self-interest. His “belief” in Pelias’s dream could have been assumed to spark the interest of a crew in a “god-sent” quest. In any case, what Eurydice said was true. Balta’s tale could have no influence on Jason’s main purpose in continuing on their voyage or turning back—so it would not be necessary to draw Jason’s attention to Eurydice again just yet.
“And speaking of a long voyage,” he said, “you will need more than the one gown you are wearing. If it is possible, I will buy you something more fitting when we come to a port—”
“I do not wish to be too much beholden,” Eurydice murmured, looking down at her hands after a quick, sidelong glance that reminded Orpheus of what had been said between them about love.
He shrugged. “I can always make money by singing in a drinking house or on the street. It is very little to me, but if you are troubled you can pay me back. Since your advice was so good, Jason might give you something for any further service or some other way to earn coin might arise. Meanwhile, we are nowhere near a port. What I am offering you is virtually nothing, only a tunic so badly torn I could not wear it again in any case. You can sew up the rents, however, and make it wearable.”
He meant it, Eurydice thought, all of it. He was not heaping favors on her to demand a favor in return. Nor did he mean she might earn coin by selling her body. In fact, she suspected he would be both horrified and disappointed if she offered such an exchange—yet now she was willing, even eager, to discover what kind of lover he would be. No, impossible, until they could find a private place—she did not want the crew lining up for their turns. She looked up, smiling.
“Well, the first offer I have to make is to mend anything else of yours that needs mending. I like to sew, so that, like your offer, is virtually nothing. Thus we will be even. And do you think some of the crew would band together to give me a little metal to do their mending?”
“If you are right about where the Hellespont is they will all be glad to make a contribution to buy you new clothing.”
“No!” Eurydice said sharply. “I am willing to take charity from you until I can find my feet in a new life, but not from the others.”
“Then you shall not,” Orpheus said, putting his arm around her and drawing her into a comfortable position.
Chapter Six
The sun was not far down from its zenith when Tiphys had to bring the ship hard about to port to keep the land in sight.
“That is it,” Eurydice cried, getting to her feet. “That is the end of the land. It is only a very little way, and then he must turn east.”
Even as she spoke, the sail had to be reset. A short time later, it had to be furled altogether because the wind was no longer coming from the same quarter. Just as Eurydice had predicted, they turned hard to port again. Orpheus had gone to get his flute from the cithara case as soon as he felt the wind shifting and was ready to resume his duties as timekeeper for the rowers as soon as they had the oars in the locks. The men bent to the oars with a will because land was showing ahead on the starboard side as well as to port while Ankaios called out that there was free flowing water ahead. Surely this was the mouth of the Hellespont.
When they had rowed safely through the turbulence where the tip of the Chersonesus and the jutting coastline of Troas came close together, Jason gave orders to reset the yard that held the sail to catch the breeze, and came back to the stern himself to thank Eurydice for standing up and saying what she knew in the face of opposition. He found her sitting at Orpheus’ feet and mending something from the bard’s travel pack as he played the flute for the rower’s chant. That sign of domesticity won Orpheus a single, hard, calculating glance. Then Jason smiled, beckoned Eurydice closer, offered his thanks, and asked her if she had any information about the ports along the Hellespont.
“I have heard many things,” she said cautiously, putting the mending aside and getting to her feet. “I will be glad to recount them to you, but you must understand that I cannot vouch for the truth of any of them. What I told you about reaching the Hellespont I knew from my own experience. I had seen the end of the land and gone some way east along the shore. I do know, for certain, that there is a small, poor town called Sestos there, about half the distance back from where you found me. I know nothing about it. I had no money, and you saw the rags in which I was dressed, so I did not dare enter the place. I have heard that the towns on the Troas shore are much richer and that some are friendly
to traders, although well-armed to repel pirates. But I do not know this for certain.”
“I understand,” Jason said. “We will keep good watch and see if Idmon or Mopsus can sense the feeling of the people when they see our ship. Remembering this, tell me what you have heard.”
Eurydice paused and closed her eyes the better to recall the map the old priestess-teacher had spread before them. The lesson had been about the countries from which suppliants to the Goddess came and what they could supply in better quantity with the least resentment. If a king rich in goats were asked for cheeses, he would give those (and more of them) more gladly than he would give the gold to buy cheese because he had no source for gold and would have to trade for it at a loss. But Eurydice had not cared much about offerings; kind as the priestesses had been to her, she had never felt nor wanted to be a part of the temple. She regarded herself as a student, a temporary sojourner, who would leave when her course of study was finished. As one who intended to travel widely, however, she had looked hard at the map and listened to the teacher-priestess’s lecture about the cities and countryside with very special interest.
“First,” she said, seeing the map in her mind’s eye, “we will come to the mouth of a large river. Up that river no great way is Ilium. That, I have heard, is a great city, although not as great as Troja, which is south of it on the river.”
“I do not think we want to make any side excursions,” Jason said. “We need more supplies, bread and fruit especially, but we have enough for several days and the water in the casks is fresh.”
“You will surely find a place to buy supplies by tomorrow, if not before the end of the day,” Eurydice assured him. Having opened her eyes to hear him speak and to reply, she now closed them again. “There are five towns along the Hellespont: Dardanus, Abydus, Arisbe, Percote, and Lampsacus.” Then she opened her eyes to say, “The Hellespont is only once again the length of the distance we sailed from the place you found me. I cannot judge, although you might be able, how fast we will move either rowing or with a different breeze blowing, but it seems to me, we should come to one of those places before dark.”
Jason stared at her hard. “You can see those places, but you cannot tell me whether we will be welcomed?”
“I—”
About to say that she was just remembering a map, Eurydice recalled that she had not told Jason about her schooling among the priestesses, and neither had Orpheus when she had been accused of stupidity and ignorance. She had feared Jason would guess that she had escaped from a temple and would refuse to take her aboard lest his ship be cursed. Remorse flickered in her over her rage at Orpheus. Perhaps he had been governed by the same notion and was only trying to protect her. Probably it would be safe to tell Jason now, but… She remembered the odd look he had given her when he saw her sewing at Orpheus’ feet and the flat stare he had transferred to Orpheus. That flat stare was now fixed on her, and Eurydice decided not to give Jason any cause for displeasure.
“You were about to say?” he prodded.
Eurydice shook her head. “I do not See the towns,” she explained. “My Gifts are not great. You are safer by far if I do not pretend to have more Power than I do have. As I said before, these are things I have heard in this place and that as I wandered about Thrace.”
“I understand,” Jason said, not as if he believed her but as if he had perceived the purpose for which she was protesting her abilities as a witch. “Still, I am very sorry that you can tell me nothing about the towns.”
His face was calm and his voice quiet, but Eurydice felt threatened. Her eyes flickered toward Orpheus and immediately away. He had no idea what was going on; he was staring ahead at the rhythmically rising and bending rowers, completely enwrapped in their movement, which he both led and followed. In any case, it would be dangerous for her to seek help there. She remembered Jason’s cold look at Orpheus. Her mind scurried for something with which to pacify Jason, but not a lie…
“I do not remember hearing anything about the towns…” she began. Before she finished the statement her voice was fading, only to come back more strongly as she said, “No, that is not completely true.” She closed her eyes again, murmuring the names from the map, then relieved, she nodded and looked at Jason. “It seems to me I heard that Dardanus was very wary of strangers, being the first town along the coast. They have been raided, I would imagine, and—and there is something else, something to do with ships.” She stared out at the sea. At first it was no help, but as the oars struck the water, she remembered. “Yes, a man drunk and wailing in a tavern in Lysamachia of oars catching on sunken wrecks in the harbor of Dardanus and the defenders coming at them through passages they knew.”
“Are you sure?”
Eurydice blinked. “No. I am sure of nothing because this is all hearsay. How do I know that drunk was not making excuses for his own carelessness as steersman? How can I know anything about what casual strangers told me or were talking about among themselves?”
“But you would advise avoiding Dardanus?”
She shrugged, irritation taking the place of fear. “If my memory is correct. If the man I heard was telling the truth. Then, provided there is no real need to stop and try the temper of the Dardanians, yes, I think it would be well to pass by that city.”
“And the next town—Abydus?”
“I do not remember hearing anything about Abydus, but I believe it is at the farthest point of a place where the coast bulges outward. I am not sure how good the harbor would be.” She shrugged again. “If that does not matter, then I know no reason to avoid Abydus.”
“What of the other three towns?”
“Arisbe is inland on a river. Percote is also back from the coast a little. There may be a good harbor there, but one must go overland to the town. Lampsacus might be the best because the Hellespont begins to widen beyond Lampsacus, but the distance is a little more than twice that to where you found me. Could we reach there before dark? Would it be safe to approach any town after dark?”
“No to both,” Jason said. He glanced up at the mast as he spoke and saw that the yard was fixed in its new position. The men were waiting his order to let down the sail. “When we are closer to Dardanus, will you try to read the feeling of the people?” he asked quickly.
“That is not my Gift,” Eurydice said, shrinking back a little. She caught the flash of Jason’s eyes, saw the corners of his mouth harden. “I—I will stand with Idmon and Mopsus,” she offered, “and if I feel anything I will speak of it, but you must not count on my ability.”
“You are too fearful, I think,” Jason said, smiling briefly before walked over to Tiphys, who held the steering oar, and bade him take the ship closer to the starboard shore and follow it.
He nodded once to Eurydice, which somehow did not make her feel any better, then started forward to order the sail let down, and when it filled with air, order the rowers to ship their oars. Eurydice watched him uneasily for a few moments and then went to gather up her mending and take it to where the blankets were. She began to sew again, glad to have something over which to bend her head and fix her eyes, She realized she had made a terrible mistake, but had no idea what to do about it—and to ask Orpheus’ advice might well compound the mistake by involving him in it.
Freed from his duty, Orpheus glanced at Eurydice, but she did not lift her head and smile a welcome. He wondered what Jason had been talking to her about for so long, thinking sourly that it was all too easy to enjoy Eurydice’s company and that she was very free with pleasant words and bright smiles. He looked at her again, but she stayed stubbornly intent on her mending so he shrugged and walked down the gangway to speak to some of his friends among the crew. Many were now standing, stretching tired muscles and shouting for Hylas to bring them wine. All were in high spirits at finding the passage so scion and several stopped him specially to praise his cleverness in recognizing that Eurydice would have value.
For some reason that praise irritated Orpheus, but his
mouth was dry from playing and he accepted a cup when Hylas reached them. He had just put it to his lips when the boy said, “Back to your kennel, howler. Your bitch is wagging her tail at you.”
“Someday your own spit will poison you, Hylas,” Orpheus replied, took a drink, and turned to answer a question Polydeuces had asked, as if he did not care what Eurydice was doing.
He deliberately kept his back to her as he spoke, but when Castor came over to join them, he was able to move aside to where he could catch a glimpse of her. She was sewing steadily and he looked away, with a faint sense of disappointment. Apparently Hylas had not seen Eurydice trying to catch his attention, only said the first nasty thing that came to his mind. Orpheus was annoyed at himself for being disappointed that Eurydice was not summoning him, but he could not resist looking at her now and again—and twice he caught her looking at him.
She looked away as soon as their eyes met, which Orpheus thought was strange, considering how companionable they had been all morning. But that was before Jason had spoken to her, he reminded himself sourly. For something to do, he raised his cup and sipped the well-watered wine again. That reminded him of how careful Eurydice had been that he not be exposed to shame, asking him to mix the wine because that was not women’s work. She would know what Hylas would say, and perhaps others, if she called him to her openly. Perhaps that was why she cast no more than a glance at him and then looked away.
Suddenly that annoyed him, too. He would rather have her status as his woman clear to everyone than have her trying to protect him. It was worth a few of Hylas’ stupid jests not to spend half his time wondering what she meant. But under the irritation was satisfaction and after the conversation with Castor and Polydeuces came to a natural end, he took his empty cup to rinse in a pail of water, stacked it with the others, and made his way back to Eurydice.
Enchanted Fire Page 9
