Medea (31 page)

Her grip did not relax. 'I will test you. He raped the fifty daughters of a king in one night, do you know that, Medea?'

'I don't know what he did to anyone else, but he was far too badly hurt to even think about touching me. He had five arrows in him,' I said coldly. 'But give me the draught and you will see.'

She compounded the potion. I did not speak to her. Certain combinations of herbs used by the priestesses of Hekate produce instant nausea in a woman who is not a virgin, while children can drink them freely. That is why a woman's bodily state must be ascertained before some medicines are administered. I waited, deeply affronted. I was comforted by the thought of the apology she would have to make when I showed no sign of vomiting.

I drank the concoction. It tasted slightly sweet and had a scent like cut grass. Trioda sat down in her chair and I sat down on the hearth with the dogs and we waited.

Time went on. The market-place emptied and then filled again. Only when the sun was sinking and I showed no sign of internal distress whatsoever did my mistress say grudgingly, 'Well, perhaps it was not complete penetration.' No apology. She did not say, 'Medea, I was wrong.'

'It was not anything!' I cried. She glared at me.

'Sit down again, Acolyte,' she ordered.

'I am a priestess,' I replied, and walked to the door. I would not stay with this woman any longer. Quite suddenly, I hated her. Her suspicions of unchastity were base and her evil opinion of me entirely unfounded. She should have known me better than that. I stalked out into the street and went through the city to the Scythian encampment. It was late summer.

The mists were rising from the river. I had neglected to apply the lotion of sun-daisies and midges hummed up in clouds around me as I walked. My mood was not improved when Anemone, seeing my angry face, laughed, 'Here is our priestess, Iole; and Trioda has scolded her roundly for enjoying the barbarian company of Scythian women.'

'Anemone, did you ever see me even look kindly on a man?' I demanded, sitting down on the platform between the empty shafts.

'No,' she replied promptly. 'But my word would not be good enough for Trioda. She's always been black and bitter, ever since Aetes rejected her advances and she joined the sisterhood out of spite.'

'What?' I gasped. Iole gave a brimming cup into my hands and kissed my cheek. I wondered how I would manage without the matter-of-fact affection which was demonstrated amongst these barbarians. I began, also, to wonder what there was to be said for civilisation, if it meant suspicion and false accusations, midges, river mist and plots. Anemone settled down for a cosy gossip.

'Yes, she wanted the king - he was a prince then, you understand. They say she was a well-looking woman, Trioda, when she was young and still combed her hair. But Aetes knew even then that his seed was lethal. He would not risk her - or so she said - and refused the offered gift of her body. And if she could not be queen she would be a priestess, and so Hekate gained what the king lost. A common story. Does she know you are here?'

'I don't care if she knows or does not know,' I mumbled into the kermiss. 'She accused me of lying with Herakles. And when I swore this was not true, she gave me the draught to test me. I have deserved better of her than that.'

'So you have, but you will not get any better, I fear. But I have some news, Medea. Aegialeus is out of favour, and Aetes has invited the sons of Phrixos back.'

'Someone has dared accuse Aegialeus of treason?' I was amazed.

'No, but he lost his temper and made a scene in the council chamber - or so I am told. He said to Aetes that he had reigned too long, that it was time for a new king to take Colchis, one who was fertile and strong. He said that the fact that Eidyia has not conceived showed that the king's seed was feeble, like his limbs.'

'He said that?' I choked on a mouthful and Iole patted my back.

'He said more, but my informant didn't hear what it was. The king went purple and fell into another fit. When he was brought to himself, he ordered his son out of his presence.'

'So Aegialeus is not an immediate threat, that is good,' I said dully, trying to feel pleased. 'What happened next?'

Anemone was not smiling. 'Then Eupolis, who likes Chalkiope your sister, put in a word about the sons of Phrixos, and the king has sent men out to find them, rescinding their sentence of exile.

'But there is bad news, Medea. I'm sorry to have to tell you. They found the wreckage of their ship, washed up in Scythian territory. Even if they drifted ashore and were not drowned, there is a fair chance that…'

'The Androphagi captured them,' I finished, shivering as I recalled the scarlet, naked heads and the pointed teeth, and how close we had come to both massacre and cannibal feast. Then I was struck with a memory of fishing in the Phasis with Melanion of the curly hair and the brown eyes. He had been merry and deft, extracting hooks for me. I had liked him. And now he and his brothers were dead either in the sea or on land, spitted and roasted by the savages. It was too much for my already lacerated feelings.

I wept, and Iole hugged me and gave me more kermiss.

I stayed with the Scythians that night. They were leaving in the morning, going west towards the mountains. They would be back in autumn, but I did not know if I would see them again. The dogs lay with me, as they always had, one on either side, and we were at least warm and comfortable, as I had been with the Scyths from the first time I had woken in Anemone's wagon.

I climbed out and sat on the driver's seat just after dawn. The sun was rising through mist, like a silver coin, cool and distant, though later in the day Ammon would be too bright for mortal eyes, lord of the sky. I was speaking the prayers to Selene which greet the end of her reign when Kore and Scylla both leapt to their feet and jumped down. I followed them. They were excited, as they would have been to see someone they had missed. I thought resentfully that Trioda was coming for me, and resolved not to be dragged off a wagon again and hauled away to be scolded like a child.

Then through the mist I saw nine men come walking. I thought that they were ghosts. Spirits haunt the marsh, where the men of Colchis hang in their cocoons. We see them often. I raised both hands in the warding gesture which tells them that such a place is not for them, for I did not want them to come in among the wagons. The Scythians do not like spirits, and their exorcising spells are strong. Colchian ghosts are neutral, mindlessly repeating the acts of their natural lives, until they are either sent away or they wear out with the passing of the years. Many people had seen Phrixos, the Achaean, in his bronze armour, fighting the air with his sword. One woman at least had fainted and miscarried at the sight of an armed warrior gleaming in bronze, rushing upon her through the night, flourishing a weapon. He had become such a nuisance that the priestesses had moved his bones to hang from the trees of the sacred grove, where the guardian could also take care that the spirit caused no trouble.

Kore and Scylla always reacted badly to phantoms, so much so that I could not take them with me on nights when the dead were walking. They howled and bristled, despite being experienced temple hounds. Halfway through my invocation, I realised that not only were their ears down and their hackles flat, but they were bouncing up and down in excitement and wagging their tails.

Then I looked more closely at the approaching men, and recognised a curly head of hair and a dark, snub-nosed countenance.

'Melanion!' I screamed, and he stopped, halting the others.

'Princess,' he called. I jumped down from my perch and ran to the path. Kore and Scylla bounded up to Melanion, licked him thoroughly, then leapt for a tall, golden-haired foreigner as though he was the person they had always wanted to meet. They licked his face while he patted their smooth black sides and laughed.

'Melanion, they just told me that you were dead!' I exclaimed. He grinned his old grin at me and put out his hand. I took it. He was warm, had a pulse and appeared to be breathing. He was definitely not a ghost.

Neither were his brothers. Cytisoros, Argeos and Phrontis bowed, and I returned the courtesy.

'You have all four been reprieved from sentence of exile,' I told Cytisoros. 'Aegialeus behaved very badly in council, telling the king that he should give him the throne, and he has been banished from Aetes' sight. The Colchians have been looking for you, but reported that your ship was wrecked and you cast away, somewhere in Scythian land. I thought that you were spirits.'

'We washed up on an island,' said Cytisoros. 'There we were rescued by these noble lords of Achaea. This is Jason, son of Aison of Iolkos; and with him the herald Authalides; Nestor Honey-Voiced; Nauplios, son of Dictys; and Telamon, the hero.'

I bowed. Kore and Scylla were still slobbering over the tall one - Jason, son of Aison. The names meant nothing to me. He was slim, wearing the Achaean tunic and a cloak which I knew was called a chlamys. This left his muscular legs bare. He was shapely, smooth and beautiful. I had never seen a man so fair. His hair spilled down his back, bright as gold thread, and the eyes he turned on me were as blue as the sky. He had been at some hard labour; his hands were blistered.

All of the strangers had mosquito bites marking all their bare skin. The huge one, Telamon the hero, who stood almost double my height, was scratching his torso and looking acutely uncomfortable.

'Take them to the king, Cytisoros,' I advised, 'before they are bitten raw. I believe that he will be pleased to see you.'

'Will you come and see us dine, most beautiful of princesses?' asked the stranger, Jason.

'No, Lord, I may not dine with the king,' I replied, laughing at the idea. 'No women will be at his table.'

I could not take my eyes off Jason. When he shifted his gaze, his eyes were as grey as the mist. But when he looked directly at me, as now, far more directly than I had ever been looked at before, his eyes were as blue as gentians. There was something compelling about him. When he reached out a hand to touch mine, I felt a thump, as though someone had hit me hard in the solar plexus, where the soul resides. Not an arrow such as the Achaean god Eros is reputed to fire, not a sharp pain. Just a thud, which made me clutch my middle.

I evaded contact with him, for no unrelated man may touch a priestess of Hekate, but I said, 'I will come and see your reunion with my sister, Chalkiope, who will be beside herself with joy. Go to the palace, Lords,' I said, retreating in confusion. 'I will see you again.'

I went back to the wagon. Kore and Scylla left the fascinating stranger with reluctance, but they came when I called them. I woke Anemone by poking my head through the curtains and calling, 'The sons of Phrixos have come home, bringing some Achaeans with them, I have to go to the palace.'

'Hmm?' she mumbled. 'Go with your goddess, Scythling.' This was a standard farewell amongst the Scyths. Then she woke fully and looked at me.

She sat up and put both hands on my shoulders.

'We leave today, but you will know where to find us, Princess,' she said solemnly. 'With you you take my blessing, Medea. Do not forget that. And do not forget that if you ever wish to leave your city, you can travel with the Sauromatae. We will give you a wagon, Scythling, and a husband if you can defeat a Pardalatos.'

'I'm a priestess, I'm a maiden, why are you saying this to me?' I asked, anxious to get to Aetes' palace and watch the reception of the sons of Phrixos.

She smiled and said, 'I know, Medea. But things can change and nothing remains the same in the world. Swear that you will remember what I have said.'

'I give you my word,' I said.

She gave me the Scythian double-kiss, and woke Iole to kiss me also. Then I was free to leap down and run unnoticed through the mist to the back gate of Aetes' palace, where any women could come and go, as we could not enter through the front. I had momentarily forgotten that I was a priestess of Hekate, and woman, which was odd. I had never forgotten that before. It was a fundamental fact of my life.

I heard a flurry of activity as I came into the courtyard. Three priests of Ammon were skinning and cutting up a bull's carcass, having already made their sacrifice of the outer parts of the thighs, wrapped in fat, to their god. The king was entitled to the rest. The baker's ovens were all red-hot. I could feel the heat from three paces away, and smell both cooking bread and the sour scent of dough being mixed. I avoided a boy carrying a platter piled high with cooked fish, and another with a string of fresh-caught ones. Other slaves were chopping fruit, making sauces, pouring wine, melting honey, cutting cheese and swearing, in about equal proportions. The noise was remarkable.

'What is happening?' I asked a slave woman, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard with an armful of linen towels.

'Oh, Princess, the sons of Phrixos have returned from exile. They were ship-wrecked, imagine!' She clutched the towels to her bosom. 'And they have brought some well-looking foreigners, their rescuers, and the king has ordered that they be bathed and tended and then feasted. Go in to your sister, Lady, she was asking for you. Also the priestess Trioda has been here, but we could give her no news of you.'

That was all to the good. I did not want to see Trioda. I remembered Tyche saying that Hekate wants service as a free gift, not as an escape. Trioda had used Hekate as her escape. I was disgusted, and questioned all that she had taught me. How could I have utterly believed in a woman who had herself once wished to be other than a maiden?

Meanwhile, I was being pushed by the crowd towards the entrance to the women's quarters. I would go and visit my sister Chalkiope, whom I had not seen since I went with the Scyths.

And perhaps I might see the stranger, Jason, again. I could not drag my thoughts away from him, though there was no reason why he should remember me. He had called me beautiful, but that was probably a common Achaean courtesy.

I told myself firmly that it meant nothing at all, and fought my way through the preparations for the feast to Chalkiope's chamber.