Argus plowed on, unconcerned. “That babbling child claimed that if I came home, I’d die. I believed her at first, especially once I heard my stepbrother, Karos, still lived. I figured she’d had a vision of him killing me so he could hold on to his inheritance, but you know what? She was wrong. Karos is a good man. S’matter of fact, he says he’s glad to have some family back after all these years. Not like that vicious mother of his, not at all. Here’s to my brother!”
Argus grabbed the goblet from my place and tried to pour out a small libation to the gods before drinking the rest. He gaped to find it was empty. “Lady,” he said, turning his head ponderously in my direction. “Lovely lady, it breaks my heart to tell you this, but some rotten thief’s stolen your wine.”
He staggered forward and nearly fell. Polydeuces and I hastened to lay hold of Argus’s arms and help him sit beside me at the women’s table. He leered happily at every woman and soon a small island of isolation separated the three of us from the rest of the table.
“Look at you,” Argus said to me, his voice fuzzy. “If you don’t put all these pretty flowers to shame, I don’t know sun from moon. Is that why you’re not wearing your wreath?” He prodded the ring of roses on the table before me. “Afraid the poor blossoms’ll die of envy?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to wear it,” I said. “I thought it was to decorate the table.” I reached for the roses, but he snatched them away.
“Ah-ah-ah! No you don’t.” He wagged one finger in my face while holding the wreath high above his head. “You don’t need to wear something like this, not with that thick, lovely hair you’ve got, shining bright as morning. My head shines too, y’know.” He bowed a little, showing off his balding scalp. “Better let me have this to cover it up before the glint blinds someone.” We were all laughing together when he jammed the roses down onto his head.
“Ow! Curse it, that hurt.” Argus shifted the wreath and touched his right temple. He fingers came away smeared with blood. “Stupid slaves, don’t know enough to cut off the thorns before they make a rose wreath. Hunh! Well, at least I spared you the pain, pretty one. I’d say you owe me thanks.”
“I agree,” I said gaily, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s for saving my life from a bloodthirsty bunch of flowers. And for being my friend and shipmate, too. I’ll never forget you, Argus.”
He got to his feet shakily. “See that you don’t, whoever you are.” Polydeuces caught him when he lurched to one side, and helped him back to his place at the king’s table.
The food tasters finished their business and a troop of servants brought heaping platters of meat, bread, roasted fowl, cheese, and olives to the tables. I was savoring a tiny, crisp quail’s leg when a clamor from the king’s table drew all eyes. Lord Aetes himself was on his feet, shouting for aid. I caught sight of Jason and my brothers in the crowd around Lord Aetes, but with so many people surrounding the king, I couldn’t discern the reason.
Then someone shouted, “He’s dead!” The women at my table broke into shrieks and sobs, though they had no more idea than I did about who “he” might be. They leaped up and fled from the hall. I ran too, but I rushed into the thick of the mob, my heart choking me as I pushed and shoved my way forward. I had to see. I had to know.
Argus lay slumped on the floor, his head lolling in the ruin of the wreath he’d taken from me. His skin was ghastly white and there was a trickle of dark blood at the corner of his mouth. I stared at him for a moment, his words a mocking echo in my ears: “That for the Pythia’s prediction!”
I have to get out now, or the Phoenician ship will sail without me, I realized suddenly. Lord Aetes will seal the palace. He won’t let a flea escape until he learns who killed his grandson. O gods, who could have done such a thing? As I flew through the halls, I remembered how happy Argus was, bragging about his stepbrother’s generosity and affection.
Somehow I made my way from that awful feast to the docks. I thanked the gods for giving me the presence of mind to retrieve the things I’d need for the voyage and the speed to escape the citadel before the great gates closed. Once in the streets, I found a dark, deserted alley, where I changed clothes, transforming Atalanta the huntress into Glaucus the prince. From there, I walked to the Phoenician ship. It would have seemed suspicious if I’d arrived at a dead run. The watchman on board the trading vessel greeted me sleepily and showed me to the small pavilion that awaited me.
“Can I help you, young lord?” he asked, watching me while I stowed my bag of belongings. “The master told us you’d be traveling with a servant. Perhaps he was mistaken?”
“What, the boy’s not here yet? That miserable dog, he said he’d come before me and make sure everything was ready!” I spoke with bluster worthy of the haughtiest nobleman, though I was worried. Milo knew the plan, but Argus’s death changed everything. Would my friend be able to escape in time? I ranted even more loudly to drown out my fears. “He thought I wouldn’t board this ship until dawn, when she sails, so off he goes to some tavern. May the gods make me strong enough to give him the whipping he deserves!”
“My lord, perhaps you misjudge the boy,” the watchman said. “This might be all a simple misunderstanding. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to listen to the lad’s excuses once he gets here.”
I couldn’t let him suspect how deeply I appreciated his compassion for my so-called servant. I grumbled a few vague words and let him know that I wasn’t in the mood for company. He left me alone, and I settled down to wait and worry.
I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, Milo was rocking my shoulder gently and whispering, “Helen?” I awoke at once and lunged toward the sound of his voice, wildly thanking all the gods I could name that he was safe. He’d been squatting beside me, and my unexpected enthusiasm pitched him backward onto the ship’s planking.