The Dancer from Atlantis

by Poul Anderson

  He would have been glad to entertain her a while, but when she failed to convince him he was wrong, she excused herself as fast as possible. Walking back to Athens, she found a cypress grove along the road where she could hide and weep.

  She hoped no one could tell that when she continued.

  Driving a chariot of Diores his chieftain, Peneleos was among the warriors who had gone forth to summon men off their scattered farmsteads. He returned on the day after Erissa’s visit to Oleg: shouting for joy as he clattered up the Acropolis, horses tramping, bronze gleaming, cloak blowing behind him with speed, his own half-naked attendants toiling afoot in his dust. Erissa was in the crowd of underlings who stopped work to watch the splendid spectacle. Light off his helmet and breastplate speared his eyes.

  Now? she thought. This very night?

  Quite likely. Uldin is back too, sulkier than I dared await.

  She felt acutely aware of everything around her, shadows between cobblestones, flies over an odorous dungheap by the stables, silver-gray of shakes on the palace roof and of sunlit smoke rising from them, a yelping dog, gowns and tunics surrounding her – though the wearers were only other objects, their words only other noises. Her thoughts moved coolly above, observing, weighing, fitting together. Beneath lay that sense of fate which had risen in her during the winter.

  Briefly, yesterday, she had hoped, just a tiny bit Well, she would not surrender. She knew Theseus’ voyage to Knossos was in the pattern. She did not know how, or know what the Ariadne might have to do with it. She had been unable to persuade Oleg that those two were in conspiracy. Doubtless her failure was itself part of the pattern, whose weaving went on. But she knew that, one way or another, she would rejoin Duncan before the end. For over the months, staring into mirrors, groping in a haze of half-recollections, she had come to recognize a face among those which were around her at that final moment; and it was her own.

  Was she herself, then, the witch who had taken the last hours out of those memories which were to nourish her over the years?

  Why would she do so? Would she? It did not make sense. And thus it might be the one loose thread that, by her refusal to do the thing, she could seize to unravel the whole web. If she, cast back into this age after another quarter century, knew what she in this house could tell her younger self—

  During her life with Dagonas, she had inquired of travelers as earnestly as of any of the remaining Keftiu: What happened? They told her different versions, which mostly had the same skeleton. Theseus and the other hostages were newly in Knossos when earthquake smote and the sea destroyed the Minoan fleet. He gathered people (whom he claimed an oracle had told him to organize) and seized the shattered capital by force. His own ships and those of his allies, spared because they had been far out to sea, arrived shortly after to reinforce him. Having imposed his will on what was left of the main Cretan cities, he went home, taking the Ariadne along. Many stories said she did not appear to have left unwillingly.

  In the past – her past, which lay futureward of today – Erissa had considered that unlikely. It didn’t fit what she had known of Lydra. Besides, Theseus showed at Naxos that the priestess was nothing to him. Poor creature, she ended her days in a mystery cult, one of those ancient dark faiths whose devotees gave themselves by turn to orgy and torture. Theseus went on to unite a large mainland domain-under his rule. The news that he came at last to an unhappy end of his own was colorless consolation.

  Erissa nodded. The pattern was clearing before her. It had been clearing throughout the winter, as Diores traveled back and forth between Athens and Atlantis. The Ariadne must in truth be aiding Theseus, just as in those dim traditions Duncan had related. No doubt the disclosures out of time had inspired her.

  But Erissa could not say this aloud – accusations would only earn her a slit throat – and Oleg and Uldin were nearly always off on their business, and when they were at the palace she was never alone with either of them, and she could scarcely hope to repeat her trick of the Periboean grove, suspicious as the court was of her.

  Yesterday, when most men of the royal household were gone, she had seized the opportunity to seek out Oleg. But she had failed to make the Russian comprehend how a mere story told by one who claimed to be an exile from the future (and did, to be sure, have some remarkable things to show) could affect people who believed in fate. Oleg did not; his curious god forbade him. Theseus and Lydra – who wanted faith in their high and liberating destiny – would stake everything they had, the life of the whole Athenian kingly house and state, on what Oleg could only see as an insane gamble that everything would work out exactly right. Since he knew Theseus, Diores, and the rest were hard-headed men like himself, he cast aside Erissa’s fears.

  Moreover, while he appreciated what he had seen of Cretan refinement and might well prefer to live there; and while he was fond of her; what really was her country to him? If he could not go home, he could make a new life in Greece. He had already started.

  That busyness had helped keep him from thinking about the pattern. Erissa, immured in the round of an Achaean woman, had had ample chances to brood, puzzle out a few of the paradoxes, and slowly weave her own web whose threads she must soon draw together.

  Yes, most likely this very night.

  Peneleos came to their room earlier after sunset than she had expected. She rose, smiling, shaking back her hair across the Egyptian shift he had given her. ‘I thought you would drink late in the hall after being afield,’ she greeted.

  He laughed. The lamplight showed him big, thickly muscled, face a trifle wine-flushed but eyes bright and posture steady. Beneath the yellow locks, that face was boyishly round and soft of beard. ‘Tomorrow night I may,’ he said. ‘But I’ve missed you more than any feasting.’

  They embraced. His mouth and hands were less clumsy than they had been the first few times, and she used every skill that hers possessed. Inwardly she was cold with destiny. What flutterings went through her were because she was on her way to Duncan.

  ‘Now, nymph, now,’ he said low in his throat.

  Usually she had let herself enjoy their encounters. Why not? They were a small reason, among larger ones, for luring him in the first place – to be free of that hunger, at least, while she waited half prisoner in Athens. In the beginning he was awed and bewildered. (Diores had encouraged him when the older man noticed what was developing. The admiral would like few things better than having a trusty follower live with, watch, and, if need be, curb this woman whose part and power in the world were unknown but were beyond doubt witchy and none too friendly.) Later Peneleos gained confidence; but he stayed kind to her in his self-centered Achaean fashion. She liked him well enough.

  Tonight she must give him all her art and none of her feeling. She must bring him to a calm and happy drowsiness but not let it glide into natural slumber.

  The lamp was guttering when she raised herself on an elbow. ‘Rest, my lover,’ she crooned, over and over, and her fingers moved on his body in slow rhythm and when the gaze she had trapped began to turn glassy she began blinking her own eyes in exact tune with his heartbeat.

  He went quickly under. Already in the grove he had not been hard to lay the Sleep on. The fact had caused her to choose him among the unwed men she regularly saw, and seduce him, after her plan had taken vague shape. Each time thereafter that she ensorcelled him – in guise of lulling him or easing a headache or bringing on a pleasant dream – made the next time easier. She was sure he followed the command she always gave: Do not tell anyone about this that we are doing together; it is a dear and holy secret between us; rather, forget that I did more than murmur to you, until I do it again.

  Now she sat staring down at him in the wan, flickering light. His features were too firmly made to fall slack, but something had gone out of them and out of the half-closed eyes. It had not gone far, though. It lay back in the darkness of the skull, like one of those snakes fed by Keftiu householders who believed their dead came home in that form
. After hours it would rouse and uncoil; and the wrong sounds could bring it instantly awake and striking.

  In the Sleep you believed and did what you were told, up to a point – and she thought her repeated suggestions that he acted out had driven that point further up than it stood in most men – but you would not do anything that your undeceived waking self would recognize as wrong or dangerous. She must be totally careful tonight.

  The lamp was almost out. She rose, cat-cautious, and replenished it. The room was warm, thick with odors of oil, smoke, flesh, and musky breath. Outside the door curtain were darkness and silence.

  Erissa leaned over him. ‘Peneleos,’ she said, word by soft and measured word, ‘you know I am your woman who wants only to serve you. But you know I also serve the Goddess.’

  ‘Yes.’ he responded, toneless as always before.

  ‘Hear me, Peneleos. The Goddess has revealed to me that the divine plan, Hers and Zeus’, for the union of our two peoples is imperiled. If that be done which is forbidden, the everlasting curse will fall upon them. Tell me what is intended so I may warn against wrongness.’

  She held her breath till he responded. Her hope pivoted on the likelihood that Diores had confided in him. Surely more men than the prince and admiral would have to know the real scheme if it differed from the announced one. Peneleos, while young, was not indiscreet; and information would enable him to keep sharper watch on whatever his leman might be doing or learning.

  The answers she drew forth clenched her sense of fate. Winter-long plotting between Theseus, Lydra, and those whom Lydra’s agents had discovered or planted in Knossos; story of the future drawn from a too trusting Duncan Reid; reinterpretation of the Periboean oracle to mean that the Goddess Herself desired the triumph of Athens; scheme to seize the queen city and command the whole fleet to turn about and fall on Keft; safety margin, that no hostile move need be made if disaster did not grab the Labyrinth when it was supposed to; everything kept secret from the Minos; Duncan left behind under guard on some pretext—

  She didn’t pause for bitterness. Much of this she had suspected for weeks.

  ‘Hark,’ she said. ‘You remember that you have fretted about possible trouble from the man Uldin. Know now that Poseidon is angered at misuse of the horse – that his sacred animal should be ridden like a donkey! – and will bring ruin on the expedition unless the sacrilege ceases for good. Uldin must be slain in expiation; but secretly, for if the reason were given out, messengers would leave for Crete.’

  She took her time, repeating, elaborating, until she felt she had engraved belief on the ill-defended mind. Moonset and sunrise drew nearer with each breath, but she knew she would see Duncan again. In the end, she left Peneleos on the bed, in the dark, while she went ‘to fetch your lord Diores so we can plan what to do.’

  The rush-strewn passage was cold under her bare feet. Shadows jumped around the streaming lampflame. Uldin’s room was a few doors down. She entered. He lay snoring beside a new slave girl, his first being too heavy with child. (I will not have another by Duncan, went through Erissa’s thoughts like a bat that flies forth every twilight. I seem to have become barren since the last one Dagonas gave me. Welladay, I could not have done what I have done here were matters otherwise; let the memory of Deukalion comfort me. Unless, after this strife is over, Rhea will grant—) The Hun had kept to his shaven head, three tufts of hair, and barbaric earrings. The scarred coarse visage was hideous to her. But where else was help?

  She shook him. He came immediately awake. She laid a hand across his mouth, stooped, and whispered: ‘Rise at once. I’ve laid the Sleep on Peneleos and learned something terrible.’

  He nodded and followed her, unclad but gripping his iron blade.

  Early in winter, still dwelling alone and remembering Duncan much too well, she had recalled a thing he told her. In future centuries Dorian tribesmen from the north were to overrun the Achaeans because their iron weapons were cheap enough that any man could bear them, whereas a full bronze panoply was only for a nobleman. So later she asked Peneleos: ‘Are your leaders wise to let Uldin create the horse archers he speaks of? Once that usage spreads, will it not spell the end of the war chariot, even of the whole state founded on charioteer lords?’ At intervals she strengthened the suggestion while he lay in the Sleep.

  Her act had seemed nothing but a minor wedge she might drive. However, it took effect. Peneleos repeated the idea to Diores, Theseus, and others, who grew thoughtful. They did not outright forbid Uldin to carry on, but they found pretexts to gradually withdraw support until they should fully have reconsidered. In the end he sat about idle and smoldering.

  Tonight, from a Peneleos who thought he was Diores, the Hun learned of a scheme to kill him. He did not learn that Erissa had anything to do with those words aside from extracting them. Peneleos had been ordered to forget that; and Uldin’s acquaintance with shaman arts was limited.

  ‘Ungh,’ he grunted. After a moment, he shot her a glance from a countenance otherwise gone motionless. ‘Why do you warn me?’

  I’ve also learned of a plot to fall on Crete when it lies racked and broken,’ she said. ‘The warning we bore was never allowed to reach the Minos. Those are my people. I want to save them. I can’t get there alone.’

  ‘I’d wondered about that Tyrrhenian expedition.’

  ‘And think, Uldin!’ Erissa seized his arm. ‘The mainland does have reason to fear your kind of soldier. That’s why they’ve delayed and hampered you here. Crete, guarded by the sea, never would. Rather, they should welcome a cavalry to help control that mainland. The more so when you come as their deliverer.’

  He snapped to decision. ‘Very well. You may be deadly wrong, but if you’re right, we’re fools to linger here. And a man dies when the gods will.’ Somehow, for the moment it flashed, his grin took away his ugliness. ‘Besides, this gives me less sea voyaging to do.’

  ‘Go make yourself ready,’ Erissa said.

  When he was gone, she bent again over Peneleos. ‘Sleep now, my love,’ she whispered. ‘All has been done. All is well.’ With moth gentleness she closed his eyes. ‘Sleep late. Forget what we have spoken of. The gods and prudence alike forbid that more than your lord Diores know. Sleep. Wake refreshed. Do not seek after me. I will only be away on an errand. Sleep deeply, Peneleos.’

  His breathing became still more regular. On an impulse she did not quite understand, she kissed him. Then she grew busy gathering clothes, blankets, jewelry and utensils and weapons to wrap them in.

  Uldin returned, clad in his old foul-smelling outfit. He pointed at the bed. ‘Shall I stick him?’ he asked.

  ‘No!’ Erissa realized she had answered too loudly. ‘No, that could start the hue and cry after us hours before it need happen. Follow me.’

  They had no trouble leaving palace or city. Since Athens was choked with king’s men, no one saw reason to post guards. The moon was still up, approaching the full. (When that happens during Asterion’s feast, the Keftiu believe it bodes an especially good year, Erissa thought; and her feeling of being an embodied purpose could not keep the sting from her eyes.) The road to the Piraeus stretched gray and empty, between silvery fields and silver-tipped shadowy trees. Stars were few. The air was cool and still, so that their footfalls crunched noisy and they lowered voices as they made what scanty plans they could.

  ‘Walking!’ Uldin spat once in disgust.

  Sentries were awake at the beach, where boats and the cargoes of ships lay valuable. Uldin let Erissa pick the craft she thought best: a fifteen-footer with mast and sail. Their vessel should not be too big for him to do some rowing or sculling at need, yet sufficiently big to make Atlantis in reasonable safety. For the most part they would depend on the wind, and entirely on her navigation.

  He had to bluster before he succeeded in commandeering the boat and a few provisions. But he was good at that; and as far as the warriors knew, he was still well up in royal favor. Erissa stood aside, unrecognized in a male tunic and c
owled cloak of Peneleos’. The story oi: a secret and urgent mission that she had concocted was finally believed without sending a runner back to ask Diores. She was not surprised at that, nor at the favorable breeze they caught beyond the roadstead. For she remembered how these same planks bore her and Dagonas toward Troy.

  Wind faded out at dawn. The boat lay becalmed in a nearly flat sea, which glittered across its dark blue to the rosy-clouded luminance in the east. Westward, Argolis rose in mountains and shadowy woodlands – Troezen, where Theseus was born. Attica was low on the after horizon. Elsewhere a few islands were strewn, white and green. Erissa shipped the now useless steering oar and doffed her cloak, for the dawn was fast warming.

  ‘Best we eat,’ she said. ‘We’ll be busy later.’

  ‘Or idle,’ Uldin growled by the mast. ‘We can’t get far on strength alone. When’ll it blow again?’

  ‘Before long, I expect. Then we can await noontide calms, brisk afternoons and evenings, little or nothing throughout most nights.’

  ‘Ungh. And the fleet due to start forth tomorrow. They’ll have rowers to overtake us, and whoever sees us may well think we’re worth a closer look.’

  ‘I said we would go around behind the islands, taking cover at need. We can see a galley before it can spy us.’

  ‘Days at best, then, traveling.’ Uldin scratched under his shirt, caught a louse, and cracked it between his teeth. ‘Death along the way, not unlikely.’

  ‘If I am to meet Duncan again, as I told you long ago I would—’

  ‘You never said I’d be there.’ Suddenly her heart wavered. He drew his dagger and wagged the point at her. ‘See here. You’re an eldritch one. More so, I think, than the lover you’re taking us to. I’m none too sure you didn’t trick or bewitch me into coming along. And you’d cast me aside like a worn-out pair of breeches if you’d no further use for me.’