Nobody's Princess

“Probably.” Atalanta reached into her tunic and drew up a loop of leather cord. The brilliant burnt orange of carnelian glittered in the sunlight. “The man who became my foster father accepted this from the slave who saved my life. He didn’t need it, but he took it because it was the only way he could make that good man believe he’d keep his promise to raise me. When he was dying, he gave it to me and told me the whole story.” She cupped the carnelian bead in her palm and gazed at it as if it held her soul. “He never thought to ask the slave’s name, but the gods know it, and I pray to them all to reward him.”


She shook off the somber memories and tucked the necklace back out of sight. “Maybe I ought to thank my father for throwing me away. He’ll never know it, but he gave me my freedom. I intend to keep it, and thanks to my foster father, I’ve got the means to do it.”

“Is he the one who taught you to hunt?” I asked. Atalanta’s reputation as a master of spear and arrow was already legendary.

“Yes, and how to ride a horse too.” She whistled softly, and her stallion came trotting up, as obedient as a well-trained hound. She stroked his muzzle fondly. “There aren’t enough men like him.”

Something puzzled me. “The first time I saw you, my brother Castor told me you’re the daughter of Lord Iasius of Arcadia. If your father abandoned you—”

“Why am I burdened with his name?” Atalanta finished the question for me. “Simple. Because men, even slaves, reveal many secrets on their deathbeds, and so when that good man died, my father found out what really had become of me. By then he’d changed his mind about needing a daughter, so he ordered my return, as if I were a borrowed cloak.” She blew softly into the stallion’s nostrils, a strange action that seemed to please the animal. “You can guess how well that worked. But he did acknowledge our blood tie so that now all the world knows it. I can’t evade or deny it, much as I’d like to.”

She took the bit out of the stallion’s mouth, then looked back to me and said, “You still haven’t answered my question: Why are you dressed like that?”

“It was the easiest way to get out of the palace and follow you,” I replied. “No one stops a boy.”

“That’s clever,” Atalanta admitted. “Though I wouldn’t say you followed me. And why would you want to do that, anyway? Am I so fascinating because I’m a curiosity, the woman who hunts and rides like a man?”

“Is that what you think you are?” I said stiffly. “Back home, the warrior who taught my brothers how to fight with sword and spear taught me too. My mother taught me how to hunt. I hoped that you’d have something new to teach me; that’s why I’ve been watching you. But if you say you’re just a curiosity—” I turned away and started down the hillside.

Her hand fell on my shoulder before I’d gone ten paces. “The way to learn is face to face, not hiding in the treetops, little squirrel,” she said. “Especially if I’m going to teach you how to ride.”

“You’ll do it?” I was her devoted worshipper once more. “You’ll really teach me how to ri—?”

Just then, my belly gave a growl worthy of an earthquake, loud enough to silence me in mid-word. I lowered my eyes, embarrassed, but the huntress patted me on the back, and when I looked up again, I saw that she was smiling.

“I will, Helen. And the first thing I’ll teach you is this: Don’t come to your riding lessons on an empty stomach!”

We sat down together on a nearby rock while the stallion grazed. Atalanta had some sheep’s milk cheese wrapped in oak leaves stowed in the pouch at her belt, also a bit of bread and an apple. She was happy to give me the bread and cheese, but when I eyed the apple too she said, “No, greedy squirrel. This is for Aristos.” She whistled, and the horse came trotting up to claim his treat.

While he gobbled the fruit, she stroked his neck and told me, “Aristos is the best. Why should I give him any other name? When you’re on his back, see to it that you respect him or he’ll have you off again before you can blink.”

“I will, I promise, but…how could he tell if I didn’t?” I asked.

“Trust me, horses know things.” Atalanta offered me a drink of water from the leather flask she carried.

“I can believe that,” I said, gazing at the stallion’s dark, intelligent eyes.

“Now, the important thing for you to know before we begin is not to be afraid of him,” Atalanta went on. “Aristos is very patient with children.”

“I’m no child!”

“To him, you’re an infant, which is good and bad at the same time. The bad part is that you know absolutely nothing about horses. The good part is that infants learn fast. Well, infant, are you ready?” She replaced Aristos’s bit.

I stood up and wiped crumbs of bread and cheese from my hands and tunic. “Try me.”

I had grand visions of mastering Aristos that very day, before the sun reached noon, and racing him all the way back to the palace. I was so taken by that image, I didn’t bother including a place in it for Atalanta. It was just me and Aristos and a chorus of admiring gasps from everyone who saw us come galloping through the citadel gates.

Instead, I spent what was left of that morning just learning to get on the horse. Better to say trying to get on the horse. As Atalanta said, it didn’t count as on if I just went toppling off the stallion’s back as soon as I mounted him.

We began with Atalanta positioned by the horse’s head, with me facing his left side. She offered her linked hands and told me, “Take hold of the reins, then put your left foot here and I’ll give you a boost up.”

“But I want to do this the same way you do,” I objected. “No one helps you mount.”

“Humor me.” She bent forward a little so that her linked hands were lower. “You can try it without my help next time. For now, just do as I say and, whatever you do, don’t let go of the reins.”

I wanted to say, You told me that already, but decided to hold my tongue. I was sure that once Atalanta saw how well I sat that horse, she’d realize I was ready for more-advanced lessons. I grabbed the reins in my left hand, rested my right on the sheepskin pad covering Aristos’s back, placed my left foot in the huntress’s hands, and bounded upward just as she gave me the promised boost.