“You told me you must go home to Greece. I told you I did not wish to live there.” She blinked away tears. “I do not know what I meant.”
The men were all down the stairs and Orpheus drew her close. “I was not asking about that.” He smiled sweetly. “You will like Greece when you get there. You cannot dislike a place you have never been.” Then he lost the smile and his brows drew together. “Anyhow, that is not important. You did not mean I was no more to you than a casual body in your bed, did you?”
Eurydice was so enraged by his insistence that she would like Greece that she nearly thrust him away and said that she did regard him as a casual body in her bed. The memory of her own bleak misery when she thought she had driven him away made her bite back the words. She sighed again, louder.
“It is not a question of whether or not I like Greece,” she said. “It is a question of whether Greece will like me, and if not, whether I will survive their dislike.”
He bent his head and kissed her. When he lifted his lips away, he was smiling again. “Do not be so silly,” he said. “Everyone likes you. Is there a single man on this ship who does not? And they are all Greek.”
“We are all foreigners together,” she began, then shrugged.
She could not think how to explain to him that in the context of a crew member she was “not a woman,” so the patterns of propriety expected of a woman did not apply to her, and the men were not offended by her free behavior. At home, in a house, each man might not be so indulgent of her independent ways. The women of a household might be even less understanding. However, this was not the time or the place for a long careful explanation. Eurydice vowed she would not again make the mistake of letting Orpheus forget that she did not want to go home with him, but right now it was more important to make sure that Jason stayed alive, which seemed her best chance of getting her way.
“We should go,” she began again. “I am not so concerned about the plowing, but I do not like the business of sowing the dragon’s teeth.”
Orpheus drew a sharp breath, as if she had reminded him of something important, nodded and drew back, so she could start down the stairs. Once out of the gate, they could just see the tail of the group of men, and they started after them but without hurrying. It would take Jason some time to plow the field.
“Can you do anything to help him?” Orpheus asked.
Eurydice shook her head. “I am afraid to try. I cannot sense the magic of this land, so I cannot tell what kind of spell will animate those who grow from the dragon’s teeth—or even whether they are real or illusion. I am afraid that any spell I cast would be tangled into the local magic and cause harm instead of good. I could try to cast a look-past-me spell on Jason, so the dragon’s-teeth soldiers would not see him. But that might be worse than useless. I mean, it is possible that the dragon’s teeth will not be affected by my spell, or even that they might be attracted by it rather than repelled by it. Meanwhile, we would find it very difficult to see him, so the men could not even help him fight.”
They walked on in silence for a little while and then Eurydice added, “One good thing, I am sure now that Medea is truly eager for Jason to succeed in this trial. She must have told him of the significance of the yoke. If she had wanted him to fail, she needed only to have held that back, even though she taught him all the correct words. I believe that she must have told him truly what to do about the crop from the dragon’s teeth.”
Orpheus nodded. “What she advised sounds right. We are all to conceal ourselves in the wood or down below in the ditch beside the road—Jason, too. When the soldiers rise from the field, we are to throw rocks or sticks but to keep ourselves carefully hidden. Hmmm.” Suddenly he picked up the pace. “We had better make clear to all the men that it is important to obey Medea’s advice. Most of them are very suspicious of her—my fault and Mopsus’. Neither of us liked the way Jason was behaving, and we planted suspicion of her good will. Also, the crew were grumbling about how far away from the field the woods and ditch were. They felt they could not come in time if Jason were attacked at once.”
“I hope he will have sense enough to retreat as soon as he has finished his sowing,” Eurydice said rather breathlessly. She was nearly running to keep up with Orpheus as he began to overtake the men.
“Yes.” Orpheus frowned. “But it depends on how fast the creatures grow. Some from the first furrows might be full grown by the time the last is sown.”
“The men must spread around the field as evenly as they can on all sides. Then they can cast their first stones as soon as any of the dragon’s teeth seems to be free and intending to attack Jason.”
“Or even before,” Orpheus said thoughtfully, slowing down so he could look at Eurydice. “Once their arms are free they can slash at each other as they grow.”
“Yes,” Eurydice agreed, picking up the pace voluntarily. “Even if they cannot reach each other, their attention will be fixed away from Jason.”
With this plan in mind, they hurried onward. The road went on along one side of a medium-sized field, on which one long, straight furrow ran from end to end. Some of Jason’s men were walking down the road. Along the other side of the field ran a narrow track backed by a wooded area. More of the crew was moving along that. Aietes was standing at the corner of the field, and Jason was just lowering the coulter to start the second furrow. Without any further words, Eurydice headed out on the narrow cart track while Orpheus strode down the road.
There was plenty of time to talk to each of the men while Jason ploughed the field, plenty of time for the men to spread out and find good hiding places along the three cart tracks and the road that edged the field, plenty of time to search the track, the ditch by the road, and under the trees for sticks and stones that would fly true into the field. Eurydice knew she could not throw so far, so she came back through the trees to where Aietes waited, watching Jason plough. Eurydice stopped in concealment, close enough to see and hear, but out of sight herself.
The king now had a large sack in his hands. Eurydice wondered whether he had picked it up while they were leaving the courtyard between the gates or had “summoned” it once he was certain that Jason could manage the bulls. The expressions that passed in turns over his face were, Eurydice thought, a good confirmation of her earlier guess that the king could not decide which he wanted more—to have the serpent killed or to retain the golden fleece. Nor could Eurydice decide which emotion predominated when Jason, having finished his ploughing, lifted the coulter, prodded the bulls around, and returned to Aietes.
“Where are your men?” the king asked.
“Watching from safety,” Jason replied.
Aietes hesitated and then burst out, “I will not say you failed the trial if they help you subdue the dragon’s teeth. Since your men will not be able to accompany you to the place of the golden fleece, you will need the dragon’s teeth to help you kill the serpent.”
“When I need the men, I will call them,” Jason said. “They are not far.” Then he looked at the bulls. “Shall I drive them back to the palace?”
“No need,” Aietes replied, and shouted a word.
The amulet on Eurydice’s chest seemed to leap against the tunic under which she wore it, and it became painfully hot. She caught it through the cloth and held it away from her flesh, gasping with pain—and the next thing she knew Aietes had the ox goad in his hand and Jason was standing by the end furrow with the sack Aietes had been holding.
“I will take the bulls back,” Aietes said. “There is no need for me to watch you sow the teeth and reap the crop. I will know your success by sunset, for by that time you will have returned—or not returned.”
Eurydice watched Aietes prod the bulls into movement and go off along the road to the city. He had frozen them, she realized, and she had fallen victim after she pulled the amulet away from her skin. Or, perhaps the protective spell had been burnt out by the power of Aietes’ enchantment. She shook her head slowly. The spell had been so effe
ctive that she had no memory of how he had transferred the power over the bulls from Jason to himself. He could have performed the whole yoking ceremony for all she knew. Or, had the bulls been frozen also? A spell that would work on automata as well as humans would be useful.
She said the word she had heard over and over in her mind, wondering whether it would work, as the words of command over the inhuman guards worked even though she had not performed the original spell. And would it work away from Colchis? Would it remain undetectable to sorcerers who used the kind of magic she did? She was dreadfully tempted to try the word, but the last thing she wanted was to freeze Jason when he had already set a half furrow of dragon’s teeth into the ground.
Eurydice watched him move along the furrow, thrusting a stick into the ground, twisting it, stooping to drop something into the hole, and stamping the earth over the “seed.” The motions had been a little awkward at first, like an action half remembered, and his face, when he came back toward her doing the second furrow was twisted with wry memory. By the time he began the fourth row, he was moving swiftly with the practiced swing of one who had performed the task many times before. Eurydice transferred her attention to the furrow nearest her, but she could see nothing that gave any sign of life.
Suddenly, she felt very much alone and she shrank back farther into the trees and began to make her way closer to the road. Mopsus was crouched down in the ditch not far from where the track turned off from the road. She heard his quickened breathing when she came close, and her head whipped around toward the ploughed field. The first furrow was surely swelling, heaving. Eurydice swallowed hard and restrained a shudder.
“Do you know where Orpheus is?” she whispered to Mopsus.
“Ahead,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the field.
Eurydice started to creep out of the ditch, bent as low as possible to keep out of sight, but she could not resist casting a glance over her shoulder. She swallowed again, wishing she had not. Something grey and rounded was just breaking through the earth. Terrified, she leapt to her feet and ran back into the trees as fast as she could. Then, heart pounding, she hurried as fast as she could without making too much noise, parallel to the road toward the back of the field.
Twice she slowed and came to the very edge of the trees to peer up and down the ditch. She saw the hidden men easily enough because they were flattened against the opposite side of the ditch, which would make them much harder to see from the field, but none of them was Orpheus, and she wanted to be with Orpheus. Although she tried not to look, knowing it would only make her more frightened and uneasy, she simply could not keep her eyes from the field. The first time there were only those horrible grey protuberances rising from the earth, and she ran on shaking with revulsion, almost forgetting the need for silence in her greater need to seek safety and sanity in Orpheus’ arms.
Only the fear that she would miss seeing her lover, more desperate than her horror, made her slow again. Orpheus was still not in sight, but the thing she saw from the corner of her eyes as she sought him made her look more directly at the nearest furrow. The first few teeth sown had grown enough to have broken through the soil entirely; each was now a helmeted head, upright, but with closed eyes.
Oddly, that made her feel better and she stood staring, struck by a feeling of familiarity. That was ridiculous, she thought, setting out again but at a reduced pace with more care to be quiet. Who could be familiar with a head growing out of the earth? Nonetheless, the sensation teased at her while she passed the end of the field so she could cross the ditch and the road out of sight of those rapidly growing heads. When she had made her way back through the trees toward the track that circled it, she paused and peered through a clear spot above a bush.
Heads were coming up now in the second and third rows and, in the first, the faces were completely clear. Eurydice’s hands flew up to stifle a gasp. The guards! She was sure that when those eyes opened, they would be the strange, faceted orbs of the beings who guarded the palace and Aietes himself. What was growing from the soil was no illusion; this was the source of Aietes’ inhuman protectors. Her eyes widened above her masking hands. If what she believed was true, there was a way for Jason to subdue them, as Aietes had said. Somewhere, long ago, a tale she had heard as a child…was it at the temple or back in her home village? Never mind that! The tale said that if the sower came back to the first being grown before its arms were free but when its eyes had opened and said to it the word of mastery, it would obey him. If he subdued the guardians, Jason would not have to fight the serpent. He could send this small army of beings against it!
Taking a chance she leaned out of the shelter far enough to see the beginning of the first row. The shoulders were just starting to break through; the eyes were still closed. She swung her head. Jason was halfway down the last row. He would have time… Time for what? What was the word of mastery? The same first word as made the guards open the gates? Eurydice began to walk along the track as quickly as she could, peering into the woods as she went. She saw several of the men, who made angry gestures at her to hide herself, but only waved a reassuring hand at them. She could not explain, because she was somehow sure that the growing guards were sensitive to human voices, but she was sure her soft steps along the clear dirt would not wake them whereas thrashing through the bushes might. And as she neared the rear corner the danger was less because the domes of the helmets were barely showing.
She was nearly weeping with frustration when she turned the corner and started down the side of the field opposite the road. If she had dared take the time, she would have kicked herself for not realizing where Jason and Orpheus would be—at the corner where Jason had set the last of the dragon’s teeth. She could have saved herself going all the way around had she retraced her steps. She increased her pace as much as she dared while keeping her steps light and finally was close enough to the end of the row to slip into the wooded area.
“You were taking quite a chance,” an angry but scarcely audible voice said into her ear while a hard hand grabbed her arm so hard she bit her lip.
“Let her go.” Orpheus’ voice was equally soft, perhaps more dangerous.
Eurydice glanced over her shoulder at the field, but the earth was barely stirring in the last row and that before it showed only the smallest glimpse of grey.
“Never mind that, but listen both,” she murmured urgently and went on to tell them what she had deduced and now believed. “Was there another word Medea taught you?” she asked Jason at the end of her tale. “Any word you did not use to control the bulls?”
His eyes were the dirty blue of old ice. “No,” he said, “but Medea does not want the serpent killed and these—” he gestured with his head toward the growing soldiers “—could be used only to kill.”
“Could it be the same word that commands the guards to open doors or let us pass?”
“Those work only with Medea’s sign,” Jason protested.
“Oh, no,” Eurydice said. “They work perfectly well without—and without the words ‘By the Lady Medea’s will’ also. Nor is it my Gift that forces the guards to obey the command because they will pass Orpheus also.”
“It is too dangerous,” Orpheus put in.
Jason’s lips parted, but before he could speak a confused noise, a wordless caterwauling, burst out at the other end of the field. They all looked and could see the creatures risen from the dragon’s teeth, free to their waists now, struggling to loose their arms and hands from the earth, already raging, Eurydice could not guess what had set them off. Perhaps one of the men had thrown a stone too early, or perhaps one of the creatures had noticed some movement among the men. She drew a deep, uneven breath. If Aietes brought forth the creatures in this way and still managed to bring them under control…
Jason shrugged. “It is too late to try,” he said, gesturing toward the field.
That was clear enough. Even as far as the fourth and fifth rows, where heads were barely clear of the earth and the
eyes still closed, those heads were turning toward the sound. There was nothing to do then but wait while the dragon’s teeth grew to full stature. They arose from the earth armored and with sword in hand and, infuriated by the simplest irritation—being struck by a stick or stone—turned on each other to fight to the death. Clearly they were nearly mindless; not one tried to see from where the blows that struck him came. Each merely turned on the nearest object and struck out.
Had they been human, Eurydice would have been devastated. Each had to be hacked to pieces before he stopped fighting. Yet she had no sense of pain, no pulling of the need to Heal. Still, she could not continue watching. She touched Orpheus’ hand and pointed back toward the palace. He nodded, and silently as she could, she slipped away into the woods behind the field. When she was far enough away that she was certain no sound she made could attract the dragon’s teeth, she sought the road and set off for Colchis.
The guards passed her as they had all week and she went to the chamber she shared with Orpheus, sat down, and stared unseeingly out of the barred window. The trials Aietes set seemed to be over—Eurydice had no doubt the dragon’s teeth would all kill each other—but subduing the serpent would not be so easy. If Jason’s men could have accompanied him, she did not doubt among them they could have killed the beast. But Medea did not want the serpent dead, so she would not help Jason get his crew to the spot. On the other hand, Aietes did not want men with the knowledge of the whereabouts of the golden fleece to complicate the task of guarding it; he was doubtless hoping that a man as strong and clever as Jason could deal the serpent a death blow—and perhaps take his own at the same time. Eurydice’s brow creased in a frown and she rubbed wearily at the marks. Who knew but that Aietes might finish off the serpent’s work if Jason was only stunned or maimed? She jerked upright, her breath hissing in. Orpheus—that idiot—was going to accompany Jason.
Eurydice hoped she was strong enough to stun the whole lot, including the serpent, if Orpheus seemed to be in danger, but she hated to trust magic. The beast might be impervious to magic, as had been the harpies. She had to find a way to permit the crew to get to where the serpent guarded the golden fleece.
Enchanted Fire Page 35
