Enchanted Fire

by Roberta Gellis

  How long they could have retained their contentment before physical need disrupted it neither wished to guess. Their ability was not put to the test because the very next day they found Salmydessus. Before they reached the city, they passed two lesser places. Some argument arose about whether to put in, a few of the men claiming that the merchant who had described Salmydessus could have been exaggerating the size and wealth of the city. In the end, both were passed because they lacked the great double river mouth beyond which Salmydessus lay.

  From the moment Lynkeus cried out that he saw the city and the others saw it also, no one doubted its identity. There, just as the merchant said was the white palace on the highest land between the two rivers that flowed into the sea. Ships were anchored in the huge mouth and along the shore of each river where they separated; more ships were tied up to piers. And, just as in Kyzikos, there seemed to be no suspicion of them as they sailed closer. Even when they could see the buildings across the land between the rivers and then the busy, brightly garbed people moving on the streets, no challenge was flung at them.

  The sail was furled, the anchor dropped, the boat drawn out and set into the water. Jason and ten men climbed down into it. As he passed Eurydice on the stern deck, Jason said, “Stay aboard.” Then he looked at Orpheus and added, “Both of you. Any more help from either, and we might all be dead.”

  He returned before dark in a much better mood. Salmydessus, like Kyzikos, was wide open to trade and strangers were welcome—although apparently not so hungrily sought out as in the latter city. Docking at the pier was available for outlanders as well as local people. It was not inexpensive, but from his examination of the other ships that were docked, it was safe and convenient. A brief discussion among the crew confirmed what was clearly Jason’s preference for docking, which would permit the men to wander about in the city and find some entertainment or private chances for trade.

  Eurydice had, of course, said nothing. She had contributed nothing to the voyage and had no right to name her preference if she was not asked. Orpheus, however, had been among the first to speak for docking. Despite the fact that it was what he had decided would be best, Jason gave him a jaundiced look, and after the ship had been warped to the pier, and the watches set, he came back and asked if Orpheus was planning to take Eurydice ashore.

  “Yes, of course,” Orpheus replied and then smiled. “I will make sure she is safe and busy.”

  “You!” Jason exclaimed. “You cannot even keep yourself safe. I would prefer that you both remain aboard.”

  “No.”

  The flat statement brooked no argument—except violence. Eurydice’s breath drew in.

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Jason’s eyes narrowed.

  “Eurydice and I have some unfinished business that requires a decent privacy,” Orpheus said.

  For a long moment Jason stared at him, then he said sharply, “You took an oath to obey me.”

  “I did no such thing,” Orpheus rejoined with his usual calm. “I took an oath to help you obtain the golden fleece. My going ashore with Eurydice can have no effect on that purpose.”

  “No? What if she decides she likes Salmydessus, as she liked Kyzikos, and takes it into her head to remain here?”

  Orpheus blinked. “That is nothing to do with you or with me. Eurydice was no part of the ship’s supplies nor a member of the crew when we started. She took no oath. She has paid for her passage, as she said she would, with the name of a man who could direct us to Colchis. We are here in Phineus’ city. Surely she must be free to stay or to leave as best pleases her.”

  Jason’s nostrils flared and Eurydice stepped forward hastily and said, “I do not intend to remain in Salmydessus. I only looked for a place in Kyzikos because Orpheus had gone off to fight with you. If he had been killed, I would not have wished to continue the voyage. If Orpheus goes to Colchis, I will go too.”

  Jason again looked as if he had bitten something sour, but all he said was “And will you swear to that?”

  Orpheus gripped Eurydice’s arm warningly, but she smiled at him and said to Jason, “That I will go to Colchis if Orpheus goes to Colchis? Yes, I will swear to that.”

  Jason snorted impatiently. “I do not even know by what gods you hold. And a woman’s swearing…” He snorted again, then turned away and went down onto the dock.

  “He will hold you to it nonetheless,” Orpheus said, frowning.

  Eurydice laughed. “I would not have said it if I did not intend it. It is not Jason holding me to my word that will draw me on to Colchis.”

  Orpheus’ arm slid around her waist, and he drew her to him. “Those are sweet words, Eurydice. And, if you will follow me to Colchis, do I dare hope you will follow me farther? No, do not answer me. Let me believe what I wish to believe.” He squeezed her gently and then released her, asking, “Do you not want to change your dress before we go ashore?”

  “You need not be so delicate,” she said. “I know quite well that if we go ashore in what we are wearing now we will not be welcome in any except an inn that services bawds. You did say decent privacy.”

  The words came out smoothly enough, but Eurydice could feel color rise in her face. She felt awkward and unhappy as she stepped under the decking and sought out her parcel of clothing. She put aside the leather-wrapped red dress at once. That was for a grand event… The words “grand event” echoed in her head and she shivered slightly. Most of the couplings she had experienced had been as far from that as possible—a horrible thing to be endured. A few had been…almost pleasant, well, not unpleasant. It was true that she had never wanted to see most of the men again, but even those she had found endurable seemed not to have been much better pleased than she. None tried to seek her out for another meeting.

  She shivered again as she shook out one of the long, open-sleeved, embroidered tunics she had bought with her own earnings in Kyzikos. Somehow she needed the reminder of her independence—not that she feared to be abandoned, but if Orpheus found her unsatisfying or she found him unendurable…

  Even as the thought came into her mind, she recalled that meeting in the tent in the marketplace. The moment he had touched her she had been ravished, barely aware of where they were. The sensations of her body had been doubled and redoubled by what she felt from his response. She reached for the memory of the sensation and found…nothing. Blocking the warmth, the tingling, the waves of indescribable excitement were the crude mechanics surrounding any act. The need to choose a gown, to walk from inn to inn, possibly being rejected in some and finding others filthy and pest ridden. Then to go up to the chamber with just that act in mind. Eurydice shivered again.

  No doubt Orpheus would find the prospect enticing. He would be more and more stimulated by the difficulties. She blinked back tears and hurriedly pulled off her clothes and replaced them with those she had chosen. She was committed. It was impossible now to say that she had changed her mind, not after all the little seductive hints and motions she had made, after swearing to Jason that she would follow Orpheus to Colchis—and Orpheus had tried to warn her! The memory of that warning clutch on her arm, his frown of concern, loosened the tight, cold knot in her belly. Orpheus was kind and good. She would explain that to a woman—at least, to her—a coldly planned coupling was repugnant.

  It was a good idea, but the words would not come. Orpheus was so pleased, so excited, his eyes bright, his smile glittering as he hurried her down onto the dock and drew her with him to the broad street that led deeper into the town. She simply could not tell him that she did not want him now. She could not even hold back by dragging at the arm he had drawn into his own. However, once they were past the area clearly devoted to merchants’ storehouses and chandlers’ shops, Orpheus moderated his pace and when the road broadened into a small square, he went round it, looking into the shops and into the doorways of the inns.

  Involuntarily, Eurydice stiffened when he came to the first doorway that was clearly a hostel for strangers. Orpheus lo
oked down at her at once and murmured, “You do not like it? Are we too near the ship, do you think?”

  About to say “yes,” to say anything that would delay his choice, Eurydice bit back the words. In fact, considering what had happened in other places they had stopped, it would be very foolhardy to go too far from their friends or to hide themselves. More important, she would be a fool to delay. She would feel worse and worse with each place they examined, she knew. Far better to get it over with as soon as possible.

  “No,” she said. “I think it safer to be close to the Argo. I do not particularly dislike this place…”

  “Well, I do,” Orpheus said with a grin. “It is far too noisy. Let us look at the others.”

  There were two more inns on the square: the second was noisier than the first and the third, which was quiet but much smaller, did not have a room for them. The landlord, seemingly somewhat puzzled by the contradiction between their decent, even fine, garments and the cithara case on Orpheus’ back, asked if Orpheus expected to sing for his rent.

  “No, indeed,” Orpheus replied, smiling. “I have something much more important to do with the short time I will have in your fine city. I will pay in good metal.”

  Eurydice could only be grateful that Orpheus was no longer touching her because she was shaken by an involuntary shudder at his words. She turned away toward the door, half sorry and half grateful for the escape—but she had moved too soon.

  “In that case,” the landlord said, “my wife’s sister, whose house is just on the other side of my courtyard, has a free room. She does not serve food or drink, but it is only across the courtyard to my serving room.”

  “Eurydice?” Orpheus asked. He hesitated as he saw that she had taken a step toward the door and asked tentatively, “Would you be content with that arrangement? It will be quieter even than this place.”

  She turned back at once. “Yes,” she said, knowing her voice sounded stifled, but ready to agree to anything that would end her suspense.

  “Are you sure?” Orpheus asked, his smile gone.

  “Yes. Yes. Let us go look at the place. I cannot say more before I see it.”

  “We can look farther, Eurydice,” Orpheus said uncertainly.

  Eurydice did not answer, however. She had gestured to the landlord and was following him down the passage that opened onto the courtyard which held the well and the stables and storage sheds. One small house opened onto the courtyard also, and the landlord knocked on the door. It was opened promptly by an older woman, still upright, in a faded, but clean gown. She nodded to what the man said and stepped aside, gesturing for Eurydice and Orpheus to enter.

  “It is above,” she said, pointing to the ladder that went up not far from the door to an opening above.

  “Not a loft,” Orpheus said, “thank you. I thought the landlord said you had a room.”

  “So I do. Go up and see.”

  “Why not?” Eurydice said, and climbed up to find herself on a tiny landing facing a surprisingly well-made door.

  Opened, the door revealed a neat room, with a low bed broad enough for two, a small table with two stools, and a chest just under the half window. It was cleaner than Eurydice expected, and when she peeped out the window she saw a little garden with a small budding fruit tree and well-marked beds showing well-started plants. Eurydice went back to the door and called down to Orpheus to come up.

  “No need,” he called back. “If you are content, I will be also. I will give the woman the price of tonight’s lodging and then we can go out and look around the town a little.”

  The words washed away Eurydice’s distaste as a rain shower sluices off dust on a hot summer day. In fact, they relieved her mind so much that her body came all alive, warmth across her loins and the skin prickling on her arms and shoulders. She hesitated before closing the door, wondering whether she should insist that Orpheus come up on some pretense so that they could play at once the game she had, a moment ago, feared she would not find amusing. Even as her lips parted to call, she knew it would not work. There would be the woman down below. With her mind’s eye, Eurydice could see the smirk that would appear on the woman’s lips and the way her head would cock sideways, listening. She closed the door at once and climbed down briskly.

  Nonetheless her lightness of spirit persisted, and Orpheus perceived it. As she turned and walked toward him, the faint frown on his forehead smoothed away and his eyes lit. He said nothing, however, until they were out of the house, through the inn’s courtyard, and out on the street. Then he grinned from ear to ear.

  “I am delighted that you found the room suitable,” he said. “While we were looking at the inns, I began to think you had been lying to me and were not willing.”

  Eurydice laughed. “I was not willing to be dragged to the first bed available, no matter its condition, and hurried into coupling like a drab, but you seemed so eager—I did not wish to pour cold water on your pleasure.” She looked up and this time it was she who slipped her arm into his. “I should have known better.”

  Orpheus choked. “You give me too much credit. I did not come up because you did—pour cold water on my eagerness, I mean.” He gave in and laughed heartily. “I would have done just as you thought, dragged you up to bed the moment I found one I could bear to lie down on, except that I knew something was wrong,” He sobered, drew her closer, and she felt him shudder. “I feared the worst, you know, that you never wanted me but got caught up in your clever teasings and promises and swearings.” He drew a breath and smiled again. “What changed your mind?”

  “Thank my Goddess that I have not the power to read thoughts.” Eurydice laughed again. “You said we would go and look around the town after I said the room would do. I thought it was your tender sensibility, that you were so refined in your ways that you would not leap upon me like a bull in rut. So much for your delicate nature and my fine perceptions.”

  They chuckled in chorus, but neither had any inclination to turn back. Both were aware of a delightful sense of anticipation that made the colors around them brighter, the sunshine more golden, and heightened all their physical sensations. They walked on up a broad avenue, which a merchant in the square told them would lead to the palace and to other marketplaces, and found a cookshop that was clean and quiet. The food was good, and the mood that held them made it superb.

  In the marketplace, Orpheus would have bought for Eurydice anything on which she laid her eyes, but she resisted everything except a broad shard of very thin rock with one surface so smooth and bright that it reflected her image with a clarity she could hardly believe. The price was high, but the merchant included a padded leather pouch with outer pockets for a comb and brush, and it was somehow right that Orpheus should give her one precious gift on this day. In a stall farther around the square, a leather strap, exquisitely worked on top, set with silver and semiprecious stones, and with a soft padded underside caught Eurydice’s eye. She sent Orpheus to get her a cup of wine and bargained ruthlessly—telling the merchant that if she could not buy and pack it away before her lover returned, she would not buy at all. The strap was in the outer pocket of the pouch when Orpheus came back, and she drank the wine as if she had been dying of thirst. It was right, too, that she should give Orpheus a token to mark this day.

  When they went back to return the cup Orpheus had borrowed Eurydice said, “I am not sure we should go any farther. If Jason should choose to return to the docks by this street, he would not be pleased to see us so far from the ship.” She looked up at Orpheus and smiled. “Let us go back to our room.”

  He did not reply, only drew her closer and started back toward the avenue from which they had entered the square. But he did not hurry her along, seeming well satisfied to linger when Eurydice was attracted by a stall that sold herbs used mostly in spellcasting. She glanced apologetically at him when she decided to buy, but the stall had calcedonium and sinerip, which were not common and were the best help for breaking spells; she felt sorry to make Orp
heus wait again, but she was not so apologetic as to give the merchant his elevated price.

  By the time she had stowed her packets away, Eurydice was almost sorry she had stopped. It was not that she had lost her anticipation—in fact, for some odd reason her energetic argument about price had stimulated her desire—but she was afraid Orpheus’ doubts had been renewed. His expression told her nothing, but she was learning that he wore a pleasant mask by performer’s habit and his face rarely showed his true emotions. And then she saw the long shadows preceding them down the avenue and smiled. Now they would arrive at the room just about sunset, and the woman who let it to them would find nothing to smirk at in their behavior. She took Orpheus’ hand and tugged him forward a little faster—and he did not hold back.

  When they reached the house in the inn courtyard, the door was open and the woman busy about some task near one of the sheds. Orpheus and Eurydice slipped in and climbed the ladder giggling like naughty children. The door to the room was closed as Eurydice had left it, and Orpheus stood for a moment in appreciative silence when he opened it. Then he stood aside and waved Eurydice ahead.

  “Very nice,” Orpheus murmured, following her in and closing the door behind him.

  “Much nicer than an inn, I think,” Eurydice agreed, looking around the room with a pleasure she had not been able to feel when she first saw it.