Oracle

by Jackie French

  The city wall above one side of them was even more entrancing than the courtyard. These walls were flat on top, and wide enough up there for two to pass abreast. They were used as a road, it seemed, by the palace lords and ladies. These women were carried in litters of polished wood inlaid with turquoise or silver: big chairs set up on poles for four slaves to carry.

  The wealthy women wore long skirts of thin wool, with patterns around the edges, or many flounces below their tightly belted waists. Most had bare breasts, which peeped out of the folds of their shawls, and made Nikko blush till he got used to it. Their hair was curled and plaited, twisted with jewels and ribbons. Their necks were covered with bands of gold or silver, right up to their chins. Some were as young as Thetis, others older than any woman Nikko had ever seen, with grey hair in silver circlets and tame bright birds sitting on their shoulders. The young women kept their gaze down modestly, but the older ones looked the men in the eye, or even stared appraisingly at the younger ones.

  The lords also wore skirts: not tunics like the villagers but kilts that resembled what the soldiers wore, knee high and folded at the front to make it easier to run or ride, with tight belts to make their waists seem smaller. Their bare chests were shaved and shiny with oil, and their beards were curled and oiled like their hair. None carried swords inside the palace walls—that was the duty of the guards—or even spears, unless they were headed out for a day’s hunt. But all wore jewels: gold at their wrists and ankles; gold chains set with stones of blue or red or green. One man carried a small creature like a shrunken human on his shoulder, covered in fur and with a wizened face.

  And there were dogs—tame ones that did their owners’ bidding, not wolves from the forest.

  One month passed, and then another, the moon spinners winding up the silver then letting it fall into the night again.

  Sometimes Nikko dreamed of the mountain village. Other times, nightmares woke him sweating: hunting through the forest trying to find his mother or the village, knowing that no matter how hard he looked he’d never be able to get back. Once he dreamed that his father had lashed him to a tree, and he had to pull and strain at the rope until he was old enough and strong enough to make the tree fall.

  But every time he woke there were the comforting coals of the fire, and Thetis’s soft breathing, and the snores coming from the next room where Dora and Orkestres slept. He would feel the softness of the woollen blankets, the comfort of a good meal inside his belly. The pain and the hatred would seep away. He’d sleep again, reassured.

  Winter turned the air thin and cold. The women in the litters cuddled under furs and blankets now, their servants scurrying to bring freshly warmed rocks to poke under their feet. The men wore cloaks as gorgeous as their kilts: woollen ones in intricate patterns of yellow, red and green, or made of sheep- or bearskin.

  Nikko could smell the sharp tin scent of nearby snows. But a thousand fires seemed to warm the world of Mycenae, the wood carted from the mountains, as most of the plains around the city had already been cleared for grassland for the animals, or for timber for the High King’s ships. It was never truly cold within the bounds of Mycenae. Even the stone walls seemed to radiate heat from the fires inside the rooms and courtyards. The smoke clung like a dirty tunic to Nikko’s skin; his sweat seemed stained with it. But there were baths each day to wash it off.

  Down in Orkestres’s rooms Dora stoked the fires with big logs each night so there were still glowing coals in the morning. Every day Nikko marvelled at the warmth of the floor. Orkestres helped Dora carry the wood now, for the logs were too heavy for her to bear alone, and these days they had no servants to tend to them. But Orkestres only carried wood after dark, when none of his friends might see him do the work of a servant or a woman.

  And the lessons continued. Nikko could do a back somersault three times in a row, and stand on his head, steadying himself with his arms. He could dance a hundred different steps, moving his feet while keeping his shoulders steady so Thetis could balance. Every day he could feel himself become more limber, able to stretch further, leap more gracefully backward or forward. For the first time he felt true pride in his body. No boy back in the village could match what he did now.

  Yet Thetis was far nimbler, as comfortable on her hands as her feet, doing handstands on his shoulders, then somersaulting from chair to stool to table. Even when they were not officially practising she’d tumble about the room, almost as though her bones could turn to oil and her muscles spring like a hare’s.

  Dora seemed happy with their progress. But Orkestres shook his head. ‘They are good—agile, hard working. But up on the mountain above their village,’ Orkestres shut his eyes as though remembering, ‘I felt magic in their dance: the girl flying as though she drank the wind, the boy’s song almost like the wind’s song too. Technically they were beginners, but there was something that made me shiver.’

  ‘They have only started training,’ said Dora comfortingly. ‘Time enough to work up a performance that will take everyone’s breath away. They are so young. Another year…or even two.’

  Orkestres nodded, but there was worry in his eyes.

  It was midwinter and the shadows were deep under the stone walls when Dora returned one afternoon not with a bag of food, but a bolt of what looked like cloth. Dora jerked it away when Nikko (and then Thetis) tried to touch it, but not before he felt how smooth it was.

  ‘Keep your grubby paws off it, my lambs—you’ve been eating dates, haven’t you? This material will stain. It’s deer skin…the pelt of an unborn doe, split in half to make it even finer. I had to give my silver bracelet for this, the one that the King of Tyre gave me, and the turquoise from the King of Athens. Yes, my lambs, I’ve performed before every king you’ve ever heard of, and more besides, and every one has given me a guest gift, fine as they’d give another king.’ She smoothed her white fox-fur cloak. It must have hung down to the floor when she was slimmer, thought Nikko, though now it only covered her ample shoulders. Bits of it drifted down onto the floor when she moved. ‘Ah, those were the days. Now, strip.’

  Nikko stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve seen lads naked often enough. You need performer’s breeches,’ said Dora impatiently. ‘Close-fitting ones, not just to show those boyish muscles but so there’s no loose cloth to get tangled up in. And your sister needs breeches too.’ Dora stroked Thetis’s hair. It was combed every day now with a brush made of ivory and pig’s bristles, and oiled after every washing; it was so very different from the tangled hair of the mountain child she used to be.

  ‘What sort of breeches?’ asked Nikko suspiciously.

  Dora stared at him till he dropped his gaze. ‘That’s better. Sit. Both of you. You need to understand—rules of modesty are different when you’re a tumbler. Yes, a girl of good family would never show her body to the gaze of men.’ She grinned, and touched her hair. ‘Or dye her hair gold either. But your sister will dance in front of a hall of men, looking like she wears no more than she wore when she was born, and no one will think the worse of her. And yes, her costume will cover her breasts, if that’s what you are worried about—but not because of modesty, but because as your sister grows her breasts can catch against things or bounce and unbalance her. But as to the rest…’

  She held up the cloth. ‘Costumes as thin as this will make you look naked, both of you. And you will wear them and you will smile and you will do your best.’

  ‘So you and Orkestres can have pearls and gold again?’

  ‘No. So you will live in comfort and your sister will not be given away like a pet puppy to one of the High King’s guests. Do you understand that?’ She stroked Thetis’s, hair again. The girl smiled, took her hand, and held it against her cheek.

  ‘You see?’ said Dora. ‘Your sister understands. Orkestres brought you here for our sake, it is true. But…’ and suddenly Nikko saw her eyes were wet. ‘We’ve never had a baby ourselves. An acrobat can’t perform if she’s with
child…and later…well, it was too late for that too.’ She met Nikko’s eyes. ‘We’ll do our best for you, little lambs. And if it does well for us too—well, we’ll be glad of it. But you can trust us; never think you can’t.’

  Nikko glanced at Thetis. She smiled, and nodded.

  What am I doing? thought Nikko. Relying on my little sister’s opinion. A child…a girl!

  And suddenly he realised—he’d stake his life on Thetis’s judgement.

  CHAPTER 14

  Spring dappled the walls and courtyard with pink petals.

  It had been a difficult winter. Oh, there was food aplenty—for those within the walls of Mycenae at least—and warmth and comfort too. But being confined for so long in just two rooms—and those enclosed in city walls—made Nikko want to howl like a wolf sometimes.

  He had spent most of his life out on the mountain. Even Thetis had always had the village to roam about, the hills to see above her. And now for months they had been closeted in two rooms, working, exercising…

  Somewhere out there is the sea, thought Nikko, as he stirred the onion skins in the big bronze pot on the fire. Onion skins boiled with tin, a precious metal from far away in the Hyperborean lands, produced a yellow dye for wool—and Dora’s hair. Orkestres said that you could glimpse the sea from up in the high palace. You could see half the world, he said.

  Surely, Nikko thought, no one would notice two children, not if they kept their faces down and looked like they were servants. Or maybe they could climb the walls early, when only the sentries were about. The sentries liked Dora: she passed them up hot possets when it was cold. Maybe they’d let her take him and Thetis up onto the walls one dawn, before most of the palace was awake.

  The door opened. It was Dora, bringing back their morning meal from the kitchens on a wooden tray covered with cloth. ‘How is it looking—?’ she began, then stopped, and stared around.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Thetis?’ Nikko blinked. ‘She was combing wool a little while ago. She must be in the next room.’ Thetis didn’t like to use the chamber pot when anyone was looking.

  Dora shot him a look he couldn’t interpret. She stuck her head around the inner door, then looked back.

  ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘She can’t have gone!’

  ‘She has, right enough.’ Dora lowered her bulk onto one of the stools. ‘She’s been gone before. Times you were sleeping—and she thought we were sleeping too. Slipped out on her ownsome.’

  Nikko stared, guilt spearing through him. It was his job to look after Thetis. How could he not have noticed?

  ‘I never said anything—she was never gone for long. I know it’s hard for a child, cooped up in here with all that’s new going on outside. But she’s never vanished during the day like this. Fool that I am. No more sense than a plucked pigeon!’

  ‘But what can we do?’

  ‘Wait. If either of us went looking for her—or Orkestres either—we’d just draw attention to ourselves. You don’t know what it’s like, my lamb. All anyone inside these walls has to talk about is themselves. Gossip flies faster than an eagle, and just as vicious. No, she’ll be back soon—’

  The door opened. Dora heaved herself to her feet, her face clearing.

  But there were three figures at the door, not one. Orkestres, holding Thetis’s hand and, on the other side of her, the Chamberlain.

  CHAPTER 15

  The man was just as round as when Nikko had seen him all those moons before. But he was dressed more richly now than when he had been checking the arrival of the tributes. His kilt had so much embroidery it was hard to see the colour of the cloth below; his belt was silver, carved with lions’ heads. The rolls of polished fat on his bare chest pushed against the opening of his cloak.

  He smiled. It’s a wolf’s smile, thought Nikko, as though he’s showing his teeth before he leaps.

  ‘Look what I have found.’ The Chamberlain gave Thetis a small push on her back, so she lost her grip on Orkestres’s hand and stumbled inside. She ran to Dora and half hid behind her wide trousers.

  ‘She was up on the battlements above the high palace, peering down at the High King’s feast like a baby hawk. One of the guards brought her to me—he has seen her before, it seems.

  ‘I had quite forgotten the two children.’ The Chamberlain’s voice was light and cold. ‘Such valuable children too, worth twenty goats and as many bags of grain. And so I thought, it is time His Majesty had value for his lost tributes.’

  ‘They’re not ready to perform yet,’ said Dora hoarsely. ‘They have great talent—but they must be trained.’

  ‘They have had, what, five months? Time enough to eat the worth of a gold chain. Time enough to learn a dance or two.’ The voice was chilly as the frost that had rimmed the walls of Mycenae midwinter. ‘You do not make use of His Majesty’s tributes to buy yourself the children you never had, Orkestres. The girl and boy will perform this afternoon.’

  ‘No—’ Orkestres’s voice was desperate.

  ‘This afternoon, when the sun is two fingers above the horizon. You know the way to the feasting hall…you do remember, don’t you?’ There was venom in the voice now. ‘It has been so long since the High King has called for you. I will send a servant to bring you, in case you have forgotten, and torches to show you back.’

  He smiled again. His bare feet—the toenails were painted red, and the heels rouged too—made no sound as he padded back up the courtyard.

  ‘This afternoon.’ Orkestres’s voice was bleak as the fields after the harvest had been taken.

  ‘We can work out a dance for them…a simple one. A few leaps, handstands and the double somersault. They’re good enough not to shame themselves, and such pretty lambs. Surely the High King will call for them again.’

  ‘Could we use the sword?’ put in Nikko eagerly. Thetis was able to stand on the sword now, without it cutting into her feet, though she still hadn’t learned how to leap onto it. ‘If Thetis stands on the sword then I can lift it, and twirl it around, then she can leap off, onto my shoulders, and—’

  ‘No!’

  Nikko started. He had never heard that note in Orkestres’s voice before.

  ‘You do those tricks only when you are sure nothing, nothing, will ever go wrong. Do you know what happens if a sword sheds blood before the King?’

  Nikko shook his head numbly.

  ‘The person dies. Once a sword has tasted blood it needs a life. Death will seek out whoever is nearby.’

  ‘So if Thetis cut her feet…’ began Nikko slowly, while Thetis watched wide-eyed.

  ‘Even a trickle of blood would mean the guards would kill her, there in front of the King, as soon as it was spotted. Do you know what happens if a performer falls, and cannot get up again?’

  Once more, Nikko shook his head.

  ‘Again, they are killed where they lie, a sacrifice to the Mother. No.’ Orkestres’s voice was firm. ‘All you can do tonight is what you have rehearsed time after time.’

  ‘But will that be enough to please the High King?’ cried Nikko desperately.

  Orkestres shrugged, carefully avoiding Dora’s gaze. The old woman’s eyes were full of tears. But Orkestres’s were empty.

  CHAPTER 16

  They practised all morning. It was a simple act in the end, one that would rely on the youth and grace of the performers to charm the High King. But at least it was one they could do with no mistakes.

  It felt strange to wear nothing but thin leather, almost like being naked. It would feel even worse with a hundred pairs of eyes watching him—all the grand lords of the palace as well as the High King.

  Orkestres carefully outlined the children’s eyes with charcoal and darkened their brows. He lifted up a tiny glass pot and pulled out the stopper. It was filled with beeswax, strangely red and smelling of spring flowers. He dipped in a finger and rubbed some onto Nikko’s lips and cheeks and heels and then onto Thetis’s, then another smear of charcoal on their eyelid
s.

  Dora ran her hand over their plaits, small ones tied together in a ball at their necks. Long hair could blind an acrobat.

  ‘You’ll be wonderful,’ said Dora, a little too loudly. ‘You’ll show them all. Now remember: smile. A smile is worth a thousand somersaults! Bow to the King when you enter the hall, your face to the floor, and don’t rise till you hear his voice.’

  ‘How will we know it’s him if our faces are on the floor?’

  ‘You’ll know,’ said Orkestres shortly. He stared at them, first at Nikko, and then at Thetis. ‘Whatever happens this afternoon,’ he said at last, ‘I will know you’ve done your best. I will be proud of you.’ He bit his lip. ‘Just you remember that.’

  The servant came as promised, as the sun hovered nearer to the walls than the midday sky. Already the smell of freshly roasted meat floated around the walls, with the scent of bread and pastries.

  Nikko drew his cloak around him. Thetis too was cloaked, her tiny form looking like a roll of cloth. Dora wore her best: trousers of her own weaving, and a bright red shirt that tied up the front, leaving only a glimpse of her big bare breasts. Bracelets almost hid her arms and her toes were covered with rings.

  Orkestres had dressed more plainly, his hair freshly dyed, a silver brooch on his tunic. He headed up the road after the servant. The others followed him.

  They went up one road, past a four-ways where paths met. This new road was different from any Nikko had seen before: white rock so smooth it must have been polished and raised above the ground, but with no walls enclosing it. It circled around the hill, with gardens either side, rising up to where the palace stood against the cliff.

  The doors were open—wooden doors, each as wide as the huts back in their village. No thatch on the roof, but stone welded together somehow so it didn’t fall.