“By Zeus, that face!” He gasped and jerked his hand away, wiping it briskly on his robe. “Don’t you boys ever wash? I swear by the all-seeing sun, if I catch you looking half this filthy the next time you serve the holy Pythia, I’ll drag you down to the shore, throw you in the sea, and scrub your skin off with my own two hands.”
I ducked my head, muttering a breakneck string of apologies, but he left before I was done. Even the nicest of Apollo’s priests had more important things to do than listen to a servant. I heard his steps retreat and fade to silence while I was still speaking.
I raised my head, elated. “Did you see that?” I crowed at Milo and Eunike. “He looked right at me, and all he saw was a servant—a servant boy!” My heart danced with glee.
“That was all he expected to see,” Eunike said. “Haven’t you noticed that people don’t really look at ordinary things? If I told you, ‘Look at this apple,’ I doubt you’d even think of biting it to make sure it wasn’t painted clay. Most folk are too busy looking after themselves to ask too many questions; they accept what they’re told, as long as it’s not something that will make their own lives harder to bear.”
I grew thoughtful. “And if they’re told something that they believe will make their lives easier?”
“Oh, they’ll swallow that whole and swear it was soaked in honey,” Eunike replied. She raised one eyebrow. “Helen, why are you smiling like that? You look even happier than when you were mistaken for a boy. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that the road to Iolkos just laid itself down at my feet.”
16
THE PYTHIA HAS SPOKEN
That night, with a fat, nearly full moon dying in the western sky, I stole across the temple grounds to the Pythia’s room. I crept along barefoot, my dress tucked up high, my ears alert for the smallest sound. Once, I thought I heard a dog bark. I threw myself into the shadow of a building and held my breath, wildly wondering if the servants who patrolled the temple grounds at night kept dogs with them on their rounds. A good hound would smell me out in an instant. Then the bark came a second time, too weak to have come from nearby, and I could breathe again.
The herb garden outside Eunike’s room was thick with fragrance. I stepped on a mint plant and released a fresh burst of scent into the night. Peering through the open doorway, I saw a small oil lamp burning on the table and two figures waiting for me inside. Milo and the Pythia were standing together, deep in urgent discussion, when I joined them. Eunike glanced my way, then went back to arguing with Milo.
“Why won’t you take this?” she said, holding out her hands. The flickering light of the oil lamp danced over a dagger almost as long as my sword. A pattern of golden leopards and grapevines glimmered down the center of the blackened blade. “You’ll need it for the road ahead. You can’t go defenseless.”
Milo stared at the wonderful weapon. I could see how he longed to accept it, but what he said was: “I told you, I can’t take it. It’s too fine for me to have, even for a little while. If my masters ever found me with something as costly as this, I’d be beaten for stealing.”
“Milo, you have no masters anymore,” I said softly. “And it’s a gift, freely given. Do you know how to use it?” He nodded. “Well then, take it. Who ever heard of weapons bearers who didn’t have at least one weapon of their own?”
Eunike put the dagger into Milo’s hands. He gazed at the blade, fascinated and a little apprehensive. “Holy Pythia, this blade isn’t—it isn’t an offering someone made? It doesn’t belong to the god, does it?”
“It belonged to my father,” Eunike replied. “He was a cousin of the king of Corinth and the first to recognize my visions for what they were. He brought me here, to serve Apollo, and left this with me.”
“To remember him by?” Milo asked. “Holy Pythia, if that’s so, you should keep it.”
“I was ten when he left me. If he wanted me to remember him, he could have come back to visit or sent a message in the six years since then.” She shrugged, though her eyes were sad. “I know my visions can make people fear me, but I thought my father was braver than that. The dagger’s mine to give, Milo. You will be glad to have it.”
“This is a noble’s dagger,” Milo said. “It’s not for me.” He turned his face to me. “But I’ll carry it if it will please you, Lady Helen.”
Milo’s declaration made Eunike cover her mouth and do a bad job of smothering a snicker. I didn’t mind so much. I was glad to see her cheerful again.
“Instead of wasting time making fun of me, why don’t we get started?” I said. “It’ll be dawn before you know it.”
“Not before I know it,” said Eunike. We all laughed at that. Then she went to one of the four large chests and motioned for me to help her lift the lid. Milo dashed ahead of me, removed the heavy lid, and set it silently on the floor all by himself. He might look scrawny, but his life of slavery had given his skinny arms and legs hidden strength. I was impressed.
Eunike rummaged around in the chest and finally pulled out the most splendid, colorful, magnificent gown I’d ever seen, even among all of my parents’ royal finery. The flounced skirt must have had at least fifteen tiers, each one vibrant with patterns of red, blue, orange, white, and green, all of them decorated with twinkling gold and silver charms. The tight green bodice was so thickly embroidered with wild roses that it could have fooled a swarm of honeybees.
“Wait outside, Milo,” Eunike said before helping me take off my own dress and put on that fantastic garment. The weight was staggering, but she cinched in my waist so tightly with a wide enameled belt that I had to stand straight as a spear shaft or I’d snap in two. Once the gown was on, she began adding to my burden with earrings, necklaces, and finally a diadem of beaten gold for my hair.