We walk beside our old teacher to the far end of the complex. Just as he’s about to lead us inside the building that serves as his primary classroom, office, and home, a familiar laugh echoes off the building’s stonework facade. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to turn to see a man with hair that is nearly as golden as the pelt of Colchis and a body that is as toned and lithe as a mountain cat.
"You told me he left," I say to Chiron, accusingly. I had tried to get Achilles to join me in the fight to protect Portaceae against the Areans last summer, but Chiron reported back saying Achilles had left the day before my request arrived and didn’t know where he had gone.
"He came back," Chiron says as if this isn’t absurdly obvious. "It’s not only your cousin who sees this as a place of refuge."
Jason, who was Achilles’s only close friend when we were at school here, finds himself pulled into a hug. "So you’re back, Patroclus," he says. I grimace at the nickname Achilles gave my cousin—a nickname that only Achilles could get away with using. In the old tongue the centaurs still use patroclus means "father’s glory." It was Achilles’s way of teasing Jason about his insecurity over earning Aeson’s respect. Achilles, whose mother hated his father, never saw any point in wasting time worrying over paternal opinions.
"I thought your mother had hidden your hideous face away," I say. Despite my cousin’s friendship with him, I have no love for Achilles. Although the oracles would have us believe he is destined to be the greatest warrior in Osteria, I’ve never witnessed Achilles throw a punch or even notch a bow. Jason tells me he’s seen Achilles’s skills at gymnastics and wrestling, but I doubt this arrogant man, who revels in claiming he is half-god, knows what end of a sword to hang onto. If Achilles is using the Fields as a refuge, I wonder who he’s hiding from or why he won’t just go out into the world like any other man. But then again we are supposed to believe he is not just any man. So says his doting mother, Thetis. Such rubbish.
"I left. Now I’m here again," Achilles says with the same smirking tone he uses for any statement.
"Too stupid to graduate," I mock. "It’s nice of Chiron to let a moron like you stay here."
"You never change, Odysseus." I don’t know why, but it irks me that Achilles never sounds angry over or bothered by an insult. He simply carries on with his arrogant smug, good-humored tone.
"Achilles, I’m sure your mother could use some help with the children. Now," Chiron says to Jason and me, "let’s go inside."
I follow Chiron into the house, but Jason lingers back. When I realize he’s not at my side, I expect to see him speaking with Achilles, but instead my cousin is looking toward the building I remember as housing the science labs that I avoided as much as possible when I was here. Standing in front of the building, speaking to the boys who had been racing earlier, is a woman with ash blonde hair tied into a braid and wearing tunic and breeches like a man.
"That’s Briseis. You’ll meet her later unless you scare her off with your gawking," Chiron says. Jason’s cheeks bloom red and he mutters something about noticing the new roof over the science building as he shuffles into Chiron’s rooms.
Inside, Chiron pours us water that has been flavored with dried rose petals. A servant sets out a platter of bread and cheese with fig jam. Chiron, although he never needs them, gestures toward the chairs he provides for his human guests. We sit, but I notice Jason fidgeting as he looks about the room, no doubt wondering if there will be any wine to go along with the snacks Chiron has provided.
"Jason, you are ill," Chiron begins bluntly. "No, don’t protest. You are. I can smell your illness on you and see it in the color of your skin. You will stay here to recover. As it was before when you were here, you will follow my orders and my rules. You will be allowed one cup of wine with your meals. I will not cut you off entirely because you must learn to moderate yourself. Once we have defeated that demon in your mind, we will move on to heal the other monster lurking in there. You will train, you will attend classes, you will be kept busy and be made useful. You can help Achilles and Briseis with their work." This news brings a spot brightness to my cousin’s eyes, but he still sits sullenly chewing on his bread.
"Odysseus, you will trust him to my care?"
"Of course."
"Then you may stay the night, but after that I ask you to go and to leave me to my work. You may write him with news, but I ask you to stay away and leave him to me. Besides, you were never one for attending lectures."
I can’t argue with the truth of his memory, so after a hearty meal and a comfortable night in a good bed, I make my goodbyes to my cousin at the first light of dawn.
"It’s so early," he says, rubbing his eyes that already look clearer and less tinged with red.
"I’m hoping I can get out of here before having to see Achilles again."
"He’s a good guy."
"He’s a boastful snob who’s coddled by his mother and thinks the world should bow down to him."
"Well, he’s a good fighter at any rate."
"I only have your word on that."
"Where will you go?"
"Back to Portaceae," I say.
"Orpheus is to be wed soon," Jason says as if he’s just remembered our skinny friend’s existence. "I’ll miss the ceremony."
"I’ll give him your regards. Now, I should go. If I hurry I may be back before Penelope arrives," I add unable to hold back my hopes. Without Jason slowing me down, I intend to ride hard to get back as fast as possible so I don’t miss her.
"She’s ready to see you, then? Has she gouged out her eyes so she doesn’t have to bear the sight of you?" It’s the first joke he’s made in ages. It’s not a very funny joke, but it’s better than nothing.
"Be well, cousin. I’ll come back when you’re ready."
"Take this." He hands me the satchel. All the belongings he brought have been left on a side table. All but one. I don’t have to look inside to know the pelt is still in there. "I don’t think having it around will help my recovery. I am really sick, aren’t I? Not like a chest cold, but in my head."
I nod, my throat tight with emotion. This is the first time he has acknowledged he is unwell and I think it’s a promising start to his getting better. I kiss Jason on the forehead. For once he doesn’t reek of cheap wine. A promising start indeed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pasiphae
"MINOS REFUSES TO join us," I tell the Council, which is looking rather thin since neither Portaceae nor Illamos Valley have sent new representatives after the losses of Eury and Aeson. At least the bear-like size of Agamemnon and his brother Menelaus—taking for their first time the joint seat of Seattica—fills up some of the room’s vast space. I think how quickly I was placed in the seat for Aryana after Pelias’s death. With the knowledge that being on the inside of politics is vital if you want to destroy your fellow politicians, Ares would never let his polis’s place on the Council remain empty.
Ares. My stomach jolts. His anger when I told him Minos wouldn’t join with us knocked away another brick of my confidence with him.
"You have to know I have another plan," I had told him. I cringe now remembering the pleading tone in my voice. He whipped around and I flinched expecting a blow, but the only slap I received was from the fury in his glare. "I have made it look like he raped me. Don’t you see? Now we can blackmail him into joining us."
"You bedded him?" His lip curled in a sneer.
"Well, yes. It was only an ends to a means." I stepped closer to him, daring to run my finger up from his navel and along his rigid torso. "Anyone who saw the fear in my face when he led me to his bedchamber—"
He flicked my hand away so hard I felt the jolt all the way into my shoulder. He then grabbed my upper arm and marched me to the door of my own bedchamber, yanked it open, and shoved me out. "You need to wash the stink of cattle off you if you ever plan to return to my bed," he said, barely biting back the word whore. I stood there stupidly in the hall until he slammed the door on me. A few mom
ents later, a flash of red showed from the gap between the door and the floor. Ares had gone.
I know Ares may not love me. He’s not that kind of god; he’s not even like his father Zeus, who imagines he’s in love with every lover he takes, but I want to believe what he says, that I will rule alongside him when he is the sole god and ruler of Osteria. And if I can get the Council to agree to what I have in mind, Ares will have to see what I can do for him.
As I stand before them, I take in my fellow councilmembers. There’s so much potential in this room. I only have to play on their fears, on their desire to put on a good face, on their prejudice against a kingdom richer than any of their poli, and Ares will have his war. I have two weapons in my arsenal: a trumped up rape charge and their knowledge of Minos’s large army.
"It’s fine," Priam says. "We don’t need to build an army. Osteria is at peace."
I roll my eyes. Peace is exactly the problem I need to cure. I would like to have Priam off the Council. Among us, he is the only one who is what he appears to be: meek, just, kind. There’s simply no room for that in politics.
"It’s not fine." I glance down demurely and bite hard on my tongue to force tears into my eyes. "When I was there," I pause, swallow hard, and continue with a trembling voice, "he took advantage of me." I normally dress to seduce, but today I’ve worn a plain, cream-toned dress and a body-concealing cloak. My hair is tied back and I’ve put on no makeup except a swipe of lotion to make my skin shine like that of an innocent girl.
Agamemnon sits up rigidly. He’s put on a mask of being offended, but his eyes glow brightly with eagerness and I know he will be an ally in getting Ares his war. "This is an outrage, an insult to all the laws of Osteria."
"True," chimes in Acrisius, who today is wearing sparkling emerald eyeshadow that matches the green at the border of his tunic. "The kingdoms may not be like us, but they still must hold to basic Osterian laws. To violate a guest—" he huffs indignantly as if he would never harm a woman, as if he hadn’t locked his own daughter in a box and thrown her out to sea for the crime of getting pregnant by Zeus.
"It’s okay." I pull in a deep, sobbing breath as if regaining my composure. "I’m a tough woman. I could handle it once, but then he threatened to do it to me again unless I promised to deliver this, to make you agree to this," I say, bringing a sob back into my voice at the very end as I hand a sheet over to Acrisius. I fall into my chair as if I can stand no more. "I’m sorry. I should have been stronger."
"I’m sure you did all you could," Menelaus says kindly, but his brother Agamemnon is eagerly looking over Acrisius’s shoulder as he reads. Cassiopeia meanwhile gives me a reassuring pat on the back, although she does this quite carefully to avoid damaging her long, and apparently quite recently, manicured fingernails. Priam fidgets in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with all this non-peaceful talk.
I wait, trying not to smile as I remember writing this list of demands with Ares.
Of course he had come back to me after his burst of anger. He knew I was his best bet. Even if he didn’t like how I went about it, he had to admit I had been able to think on my toes in Minoa. With the Council convinced Minos wasn’t going to play by even the most basic rules of Osteria, it would be easy to convince them of other aggressions. In the few days Ares spent avoiding me, I’d been plotting. I would make certain he never doubted my skills again.
"It’s a double cross," I had said when he appeared in my study last night. I didn’t acknowledge his absence. I didn’t comment on his harsh words. I just began delivering my proposal.
"How does it work?" he asked, sitting across from me at my writing desk.
"It’s like telling a man a woman is interested in him. Suddenly, he finds her more alluring. Tell the same woman the man is interested in her and she takes notice of him, even if she never gave him a second thought before. But our plan isn’t to make love bloom; it’s to create war." I wanted to shove the papers aside right then when Ares’s eyes sparkled with desire at my words, but I continued. "The Council will be told Minos has used me to deliver a threat to them. The threat will be a weapon he’s developed that he will unleash on Osteria if they don’t agree to his demands."
"So, like the man becoming attracted to the woman, they suddenly find Minos an aggressive tyrant even when he’s never acted as such before."
"Exactly. On the other side of the coin, I inform Minos that for his crime, the Council has sent a punishment. This punishment will make the poli hate him, but if he gives up and joins with us, the punishment will be lifted."
"It’s complicated. Why wouldn’t Minos just go to the Council himself and explain what happened?"
"Who would speak in his defense? Besides, the punishment will be sent quickly. He won’t have time to complain and I’ll make it clear that any refusal will be seen as an act of war on his part unless his refusal includes a submission of his forces to us. After the first round of what I have planned, of what the Council and the poli think Minos is demanding, I’ve no doubt the poli will go to war against Minoa. They’ll have no other choice. Or Minos will cave in to our demands and you will have his forces at your disposal."
Ares had watched me. My heart raced under his gaze, but I tried to remain calm. If he thought this was a good plan, he would be mine. If he didn’t, he would never come back to me again. I imagined I saw a slight twitch of a grin, but before his face softened, he asked, "And I assume this weapon Minos supposedly has and the punishment are one and the same."
I nodded. This was the hard part, the sacrifice I would make to rule by Ares’s side when we won.
"You asked for my son. He’s yours."
Once I had explained to Ares how it would work, he looked at me skeptically and my heart plummeted. I was done. I hadn’t been clever enough, persuasive enough to please him. I waited for the flash of his departure, waited for the room to fill with a final blaze of red, but it never came. I watched as a smile slowly brightened his face.
"It’s a roundabout way to start a war," he said, leaning back in the seat, "but I like the mystery, the drama of it. It’s like you’ve written a play suited solely to my tastes. Who knows when the poli will revolt and the war, my war, will begin? I’m certain the revolt will happen, I have no doubt, but the anticipation of when—" He broke off. In a heartbeat he was pushing the papers aside as he leapt across the desk and buried his face in my neck, making an exaggerated sniffing sound as he nuzzled me. "Not a hint of cattle," he said, lifting me from my seat and onto him.
Agamemnon, still peering over Acrisius’s shoulder, finishes reading the plans Ares and I forged in Minos’s name. His excitement for a fight falters.
"Twelve of them every twelve days?"
"We can’t agree to this—" Menelaus says.
"We have to," Cassiopeia cuts him off. She gleams in a dress of gold as she snatches the sheet from Acrisius; her gold-varnished fingernail moves along the lines of text. "Who knows what he has? Better to lose a dozen than for us all to die." I wonder if she would say this if the demands called for middle-aged women to be sent rather than unwed youths. I also wonder how quickly she will try to marry off her daughter, Andromeda, to keep her beautiful child from qualifying for the selection.
I had tried not to balk when Ares made the suggestion of sending twelve young people in their prime to be sacrificed; my original plan was to only send a pair. But he had a point. Forcing leaders pick those among their people who have the most to live for to die a horrible death, will guarantee a faster reaction and have them making war sooner.
The council members mumble over the demands. Although a few say we should negotiate, when they look at me, my red-rimmed eyes remind them that Minos would do anything to gain more power, that their very lives are under threat. Acrisius, patting my hand consolingly, says, "It’s not a pleasant choice, but Cassiopeia is right. Better for twelve to die than the thousands who could be killed by whatever weapon Minos has."
In little time, a majority of the Council agrees t
o Minos’s supposed demands. I remind myself to steal a piece of Council stationery to write an official message to Minos informing him of his punishment.
"I volunteer my polis to go first," Priam says in his thin voice. I groan. Ares and I had hoped that Seattica would jump right in. Seatticans love a good battle and are easily offended. They’d fight the instant their polis was selected. But Demos? Demosians are so peace loving and passive they wouldn’t even fight off a disease-ridden rat that was chewing through their toes. Demos had been the polis Ares planned to invade first once Minos joined his forces with Aryana’s. He would then have the largest army, would rule nearly half the settled land in Osteria, and would control the majority of the grain supply. But one must be flexible when it comes to planning war.
"Demos it is," says Acrisius, looking relieved that it was so easy. "From then on we will choose randomly which polis goes next. Letters can be sent to each of the poli’s leaders, letting them know."
There follows some discussion over how to select the next polis (by lottery wins out easily over volunteering). Then another debate on whether to select the full list now and deliver it to each polis, or to make the drawing of who will be next as needed and send messengers with the results to the poli. How they can debate such a tiny point for so long is beyond me and boredom creeps under my skin until speculations of what will happen to the twelve who are sent start to be made. Speculations to which I have the answer, to which Ares had the answer before I ever left for Minoa, but they cannot know that. My role here is to seem the victimized messenger, not the provider of the instrument that will destroy these youths.
The Maze of Minos Page 8
