Dark of the Moon

chapter 20

IT SEEMED that whenever I visited the Minos's quarters, I found Prokris seated at his feet, his hand resting on her soft brown hair while she talked and laughed or sang him a song. He adored her, and even the Minos's other wives doted on her. She quickly learned who outranked whom, who liked soft bread and who the crust, which were friends and which loathed each other. The children followed her the way the big dog followed Theseus. Whenever a little one fell or was stung by a bee or stubbed a toe, it was Prokris the child sobbed for and Prokris who could make the hurt go away.

Anytime I could escape from the priestesses' lessons, I fled to the Minos's quarters. I neglected Asterion, visiting him only hastily and infrequently. He was so happy to see me that I felt guilty when I left him looking after me with his huge eyes, and I always swore I would come back and tell him long stories the next day, but I never did.

I had little time at my disposal, in any case, as I often found myself being tutored until night fell. On those days, I imagined Prokris talking and laughing with someone else, and I prayed selfishly that she would not become good friends with one of the Minos's other wives.

Compared with my new friend, the priestesses were dull companions. I had known them my whole life. Priestesses are so powerful that it is allowed to pronounce their names. In addition to the sour Damia and the pleasant but dull Perialla, my mother's attendants were Athis, Meira, Marpessa, Zita, Orthia, Kynthia, Harmonia, Pero, and Kylissa. All were well born. Pero and Kylissa were sisters, born to my mother's mother when she was not Goddess. Orthia and Kynthia too were sisters, and Orthia was the Minos's first wife. She was even older than the Minos, and her mind had turned back into a child's mind, but the ways of Goddess had worn themselves so deeply into her being that she still performed Her rituals flawlessly. Athis had been born to my mother when she was not Goddess and looked very much like her—and like me, I had heard people say.

None of the priestesses were openly unkind to me, but I resented the smile of satisfaction that crossed Damia's shriveled face every time I made a mistake, just as I resented the way Kynthia would roll her eyes and grimace, impatient at my slowness, whenever I had to repeat an action or a prayer.

I loved to make Prokris laugh by telling her about the priestesses. One day, we shared a meal in the shade of the fig tree in the courtyard. Cook had discovered how much Prokris loved squid and octopus. As I hurried through the corridor on my way to meet her, I heard the wet sploosh-sploosh of one of Cook's boys slapping a dead octopus over and over against the hard rock outside the kitchen door to break up its tough fibers before Cook stewed it with vegetables and herbs. I hoped the boy kept at it a long time; I wasn't fond of the dish, but I could eat it if it wasn't too chewy.

I had to wait until the Minos settled down for his afternoon nap, as he didn't like Prokris to spend much time away from him. By the time she arrived, I was so hungry that I didn't care if she served me octopus as tough as seaweed.

It was tender enough, though, and there were also cheese and bread, and olives that had come from Athens with the tribute. I liked their foreign taste. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine I was on a beach in Attika, with its brilliant yellow sands. I wrapped a few in a vine leaf and tucked them into my pouch to take to Asterion later; he loved olives, and he would enjoy this new flavor.

After lunch, we stretched out on cushions next to the western wall, where a little shade fell in the afternoon. It was warm for early spring, but Prokris always preferred to be outside, even dressed in the finery that the Minos lavished on her. On another woman, the heavily embroidered dress and collar after jeweled collar might have looked garish, but Prokris carried them with such grace that even the stiff cloth of her overskirt seemed supple. We each had a cup of wine, well watered as was proper for young ladies, and chatted as we lay back on the grass. We fell silent, and I was drifting off to sleep when Prokris spoke.

"What has Damia been teaching you lately?" Prokris knew Damia well; the old priestess constantly came to the Minos's quarters and told the younger wives how to behave.

I cast about for something amusing. "How to dress. She thinks I don't take enough care. She's constantly pulling at my clothes and telling me to wear tighter skirts. When I said that I couldn't birth babies in a tight skirt, she told me that my mother has never had any trouble and I shouldn't either. So, I told her that I can't run in a tight skirt."

I looked at Prokris out of the corner of my eye. She lay on her back, her cup of wine balanced on her belly.

"And then she said, 'Run? She-Who-Will-Be-Goddess must move with dignity!'" I squawked in imitation of Damia. Prokris giggled, and the cup of wine danced. Emboldened, I went on, "And all the while, I can see the bit of food between her teeth and the way her bottom sticks out when she walks as she's telling me how I'm supposed to move with dignity!" I hopped up and mimicked Damia, my hips waggling, my face screwed up in her sour scowl. Prokris burst into a merry laugh, and I felt rewarded.

Then another sound made me trip and almost fall. This was a man's laugh, something that should not be heard in the Minos's quarters, unless it came from the Minos himself, and it was too youthful to be his. I looked everywhere. No one. I couldn't have imagined it, but whoever it was was invisible. I was about to call out, when Prokris leaped up, spilling her wine, and clapped her hand over my mouth.

"Look!" She pointed at the wall above my head. I spun and saw Theseus. He must have been standing on a ladder or on the shoulders of a very tall companion, because his face was at the top of the wall, and he watched us with obvious enjoyment.

"But he—but we—the Minos..." I spluttered. I took a deep breath. "Don't you know what the Minos will do to him?" She shook her head without concern. I didn't know either, but if Theseus were found here, there would be a great deal of blood and a great deal of pain with that blood.

Prokris held a finger to her lips and slipped behind me, to the door that led from the courtyard to the outer fields. I had not seen that door opened in a long time, and in fact hadn't used it since I had sneaked through it to go to the house of a friend shortly after my womanhood ceremony. The furious scolding I had received when I was found at his farmhouse had been severe, but it was nothing compared to his punishment. No one told me what they had done to him, but he never spoke to me again, and a few months later he shipped out on a trading ship, and I had not seen or even heard of him since.

So I was not eager to repeat the experiment, yet Prokris pulled the door open with the ease of much practice. I must have looked surprised, because she laughed again and said, "What, did you think that the wives spent all their time locked up in here?" I did, but I held my tongue.

Even as I stepped through the door, I regretted it. Nobody would kill or strike She-Who-Will-Be-Goddess, but even the pretty young wife of the Minos— especially the pretty young wife of the Minos—would have no such protection. To meet with a man not her brother without her husband's permission was unthinkable. At least her death would be quick; I didn't know what they would do to Theseus, and I didn't want to know.

No such thoughts appeared to trouble my companions. Theseus, his large white dog at his side, pulled Prokris into the shelter of a large olive tree that was just beginning to bud. In their places, I would have quaked with terror. He beckoned to me to join them, but I stayed where I was and rested a hand on a rung of the gardener's ladder leaning against the wall.

The dog had sat down at her master's side and fixed her intelligent eyes on me. Theseus said, "You needn't fear that Artemis will bite you again." He stroked her head with his brown hand. "She was merely playing."

It was odd to hear an animal referred to by one of the names of Goddess, but it was not an insult. Dogs are holy to Goddess; she is a hunter, after all, and once, when the evil Aktaion attempted to violate her, taking advantage of her weaponless state as she bathed in a forest pool, his own dogs turned on him in horror and tore him to pieces. We honor dogs for that reason.

I looked around. The last time I'd been outdoors was the day the ships had pulled into the harbor, bearing Prokris and Theseus. Spring had come, and the fields were covered in tiny purple and white blossoms, and the air smelled of new grass and clean earth. Birds quarreled in the trees, and a light breeze brought the scent of herbs, crushed under my feet, to my nostrils. The city almost surrounded the palace, but on this side, where the Festivals were held, the fields sloped down toward the sea. I saw farmers preparing their land for planting, turning the earth with plows pulled by huge oxen, or by a lone donkey in the smaller holdings. Some were already planting early seeds. But I couldn't enjoy any of it while sickened by the thought of the danger we were in, meeting out here.

"We have to go back," I said to Prokris, trying not to look at Theseus, who had stood and was stretching. "If they catch you—"

"Oh, they won't catch me." Her voice was confident. "Everyone's asleep. Besides, that eunuch—you know, Karpo-phoros?" I nodded. He was a quiet and kindly man the size of a Titan. "He likes me. He'll keep everyone away."

"Perhaps she's right," Theseus said to Prokris. "There's no reason to take a risk. We can meet another day."

I turned to thank him, but my mouth refused to open as his shadow lengthened and broadened, like a dark liquid pooling at his feet. I glanced up; he was staring at me quizzically. I pointed at the ground, my hand shaking. He looked. So did Prokris. "What?" Theseus asked. "What is it?"

The shadow turned from black to red, glistening, sliding smoothly across the grass. It bathed his feet and turned them crimson. I threw my hands over my face and screamed.

Prokris seized my wrist and dragged me back into the courtyard. As she shoved the door shut behind us, footsteps pounded, and two eunuchs burst into sight from the stand of trees. They slid to a halt in front of me, clutching weapons and looking around. "What is it?" panted Dolops, the one who used to be kind to me. I stared at him, wondering how to answer.

Prokris came to my rescue. "She-Who-Will-Be-Goddess was frightened," she said. "A snake." The eunuchs looked bewildered. They knew that I was perfectly accustomed to snakes.

"No, you misunderstood." I willed my voice to be firm. "It was a scorpion."

"A scorpion?" Dolops's face mirrored the skepticism in his voice. "Here?"

"Why not here?" I snapped. "But the creature slipped through a crack in the wall without stinging me. You may go now." They hesitated, and suddenly I was furious. I let my hand drift toward the pouch on my belt. At the moment, it held nothing but Asterion's olives, but I could tell by their suddenly widened eyes that they imagined it stuffed with all manner of fearful things: a bird's talon, perhaps, or a moon-shaped rock, or worst of all, a ball of thread with which I could bind a man's heart or his liver until he died slowly and painfully. They bowed hastily and backed away, then fled indoors.

"Didn't you see it?" I asked Prokris.

"See what?" She sounded exasperated.

The door opened a crack, then widened. I clutched Prokris, wondering what bloody monster would come through, but it was only Theseus. He peered to the right and to the left and then stepped through, staying within the shadow of the wall. His bare feet were unmarked, and he left no red footprints.

"I must have been dazzled by the sun." I didn't believe my own words, and Theseus looked similarly doubtful. I moved closer to him. "You have to go now," I said urgently. "Now." The effort cost me dearly, though, for my knees bent under me, and I would have slid to the ground if he had not caught me around the waist. I clutched his shoulder until the spots stopped dancing in front of my eyes, and then I pushed him away.

I took a deep breath and turned to Prokris. "Now," I said to her, "I must return to my mother." I forced myself to walk away firmly, my chin held up, and not look back.