I went to the stables, made friends with one of the workers, and got a good look at Atalanta’s horse. He was a fine animal, short and sturdy, with a broad back the color of autumn oak leaves and a sooty muzzle, mane, and tail. She’d never let anyone else take care of him, I thought.
I’d guessed right: Atalanta did exercise her own horse daily. The problem was when she did it: She didn’t devote one set time for that activity. The first day I came to the stables, I learned she’d already been and gone. The second day, I loitered so long that one of the stablehands grew suspicious of a “servant” with no work to do. He chased me away before she got there. The third day, I thought my luck had changed: Atalanta arrived and mounted her horse while I was waiting.
That was when I learned that my simple plan to follow Atalanta from the stables had a simple flaw: No matter how fast I could run, a horse could run faster. She and her steed were away from the palace and lost in a cloud of dust, heading for the woodlands, before I even managed to pass through the citadel gates.
Running after her wasn’t the answer. I looked down at the trail the horse had left and began to track it. The fresh hoofprints showed how horse and rider left the road and took a hunter’s path into the foothills. Once or twice I lost the trail and prayed to keen-eyed Hermes to help me find it again. The trickster god answered my prayers with a fresh pile of horse dung right in the middle of my path.
I marched on without any sight of them until I began to worry whether I’d gone so deeply into the forest that I risked finding the boar before I found Atalanta. Plus I hadn’t thought to bring my sword, so I was defenseless.
Stop that! I told myself severely. Have you seen or heard the beast nearby? Or do you think that a gigantic boar’s like a forest nymph, able to slip through the trees and brush silently? You know he’d make enough noise to give you lots of warning. By the time he crossed your path, you’d be safe. Can he climb trees?
That was when I heard hooves pounding through the undergrowth. I ducked behind a big beech tree just in time to see Atalanta come riding back down the path. I stayed hidden until she was well out of sight, then continued up the trail. If she had a favorite spot for exercising her horse, I intended to find it. On the other hand, if she only rode him into the hills and back to the palace, I needed to know that too.
I continued uphill, eyes on the horse’s path, until I came to a clearing. It was ringed with ancient oak trees, and a little freshwater spring bubbled out of mossy rocks that cropped out of the earth at the northern end. The grass was torn up, and there were too many hoofprints for it to be a place she’d come to only once.
I crouched beside the spring and said a prayer of thanks to the unknown god who dwelled there, letting him know that he had my sincere gratitude for permitting me to find what I’d been seeking. Tomorrow I wouldn’t try to follow Atalanta. I’d wait for her to come to me.
9
ATALANTA’S STORY
The following day, I was up and out of the gates with the sunrise. In my hurry to reach the clearing, I forgot to bring any food or drink along with me, so by the time Atalanta appeared, my stomach was grumbling. I didn’t care. I was convinced that any sacrifice of comfort was worth it, just to watch her. I found a venerable oak tree whose branches made for an easy climb and scaled it high enough for the foliage to conceal me. Then I waited.
I had no way of knowing how long I’d have to wait or even if this might be the one day that Atalanta decided to take her horse elsewhere for his exercise. My stomach kept up a long recitation of complaints until at last I decided it might be wise to ask the gods’ help.
But which god? The answer was obvious, even though I didn’t like it. Atalanta was a huntress; therefore, Artemis the huntress was the only one who could answer my prayer.
I muttered my petition quickly, not really expecting the goddess to hear me. Like Father, I disliked Artemis for her heartlessness, her readiness to punish the smallest insult, even if it happened only by oversight. I’d sworn an oath in her name, and though I fully intended to fulfill it once the hunt was over—I knew better than to cheat the gods—wouldn’t she know I’d only used her as an excuse to escape Mykenae? Couldn’t she tell how little I cared for her? Why should she do anything for me?
As I sat straddling the branch, alone with my thoughts and a very unhappy stomach, I heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching from farther down the hill. The next moment, Atalanta’s horse burst into the clearing. I whispered my thanks to Artemis, though the part of me that didn’t like that goddess still wondered whether I could trust her gift.
It was a joy to watch Atalanta ride. She moved smoothly and naturally with her horse, making it look as though together they were one miraculous creature. I forgot all about my empty stomach as I watched her put the little stallion through his paces. Sometimes, while riding him around the clearing at a gallop, she’d drop lightly to the ground and race beside him. She had no trouble matching his stride, and there were moments when I believed she could have outdistanced him, if she’d wanted to do it. When she grabbed the dangling reins and leaped back onto him as easily as if she had wings, I had to bite my tongue to keep from cheering her name and giving myself away.
I might as well have cheered, because she caught me.
“What are you staring at, boy?” Atalanta drove her horse straight at the tree where I was sitting and shouted up into the branches. Until that moment, I’d thought my shelter was impenetrable.
“Nothing,” I muttered, clinging to a leafy limb of the ancient oak.
“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow. “Then what are you doing up there? Building a nest?”
“I’m picking acorns,” I replied with as much dignity as I could manage. It was a stupid thing to say, but it made her laugh.