Theseus as a devoted son? I thought as I set off in search of the shrine. It wasn’t an image that matched the braggart of Calydon and the bully of Delphi. Well, it’s possible. I thought Jason was all selfish ambition until he warned me about the crimson dress.
I found Hades’ hidden spring, a pretty, peaceful place. The cypress tree’s spreading crown cast a cool shadow over the spring, and the thick growth of mint plants at the water’s edge filled the air with a refreshing fragrance. There was a flat black stone just across the pool from the carving of Cerberus. When I ran my fingertips over it, they came away stained with blood, wine, and a smear of cake crumbs. All were fresh. Were they gifts from Theseus, or some other worshipper?
I knelt to unpack my basket beside the flat rock, setting out my own offerings of sweet cakes and figs. I held the pomegranate in both hands and smashed it open, sending the juicy, glittering seeds spilling across the altar stone like blood drops. Then I stood up and raised my hands to hail the god.
“O dread Lord Hades, hear me. Look with kindness on the shades of Hylas and Argus, my beloved friends. Don’t let them wander lost among the hopeless ghosts, but grant that they find their way to the gardens of the blessed dead, the peaceful groves and fields of Elysium. If you will hear my prayer, I promise that I’ll give you a generous sacrifice every year of my life, and that when I rule Sparta, I’ll build a temple to honor you. Lord Hades, ruler of the dead, give comfort to Hylas and Argus, and let them know that while I live, they will never be forgotten.”
I stooped to pick up the last part of my sacrifice, a small clay flask of wine. I pulled out the beeswax stopper and was about to pour the libation when a sharp voice shouted, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing there?”
I turned slowly, the wine unpoured, and saw a young man glowering at me like a dog protecting a meaty bone. His skin was scarred with pockmarks, and mud-colored hair straggled down over his shoulders from beneath a bronze helmet too big for him. He was having some trouble holding fast to the tall spear he carried. He’d draped a cloak over his shoulders, because of the cold, and the thick blue cloth kept snaring his arms.
“I’m making a sacrifice,” I replied. “I’m almost done.”
“You’re done now,” he snapped. I glimpsed small, watery green eyes under the outsized helmet’s brim. “Get out of here. This is the king’s shrine!”
“This is the shrine the king built,” I replied, striving to keep my voice even. I hadn’t come for an argument. All I wanted was to complete my offering to Hades, go back to Milo, and leave Athens as soon as possible. “It belongs to the god.”
“Well, you don’t look like a god to me,” my tormentor jibed. He waved his spear at me vaguely. “I’m one of Lord Theseus’s guardsmen, and I’m telling you to move now.”
With one twist of my wrist, I upended the flask and sent the wine splashing over the offerings on the black stone. I’d wanted to pour it out in a slow, graceful stream, the way I remembered my father doing it whenever he brought the gods a gift of wine, but this wasn’t the time for that. As the last drop fell, I let the empty flask tumble into the basket. “All right,” I said to the meddling guard. “Now I’ll go.”
I started up out of the little hollow holding Hades’ shrine. “Stop!” the guard ordered. He took a wide-legged stance, barring the narrow way out. “You disobeyed me.”
“I’m doing what you asked,” I replied, feeling my own temper rising. “You said you wanted me to go. Step aside and let me pass.”
“You should have left when I told you to.” He readjusted his grip on the tall spear. I heard a loud, moist squeak from the wood. His hands must have been sweating badly. “You’ve defied Lord Theseus’s authority and you desecrated the offering he made to his royal father’s ghost. You’ll have to answer to him for that. Come with me.”
That was enough. I dropped the basket and drew my sword. “No.”
He lowered his spear, let out a guttural yell that cracked midway through, and attacked. He had the advantage of the high ground. He should have held it rather than rushing down at me like that. He also had a heavy spear, like the one Atalanta had used to hunt the Calydonian boar. It was impressive to look at, but intended to stop a charge, not lead one. He didn’t have the strength to keep the massive bronze spearhead from dipping low as he ran. By the time he reached me, it was a simple thing for me to sidestep his clumsy onslaught, leap aside, spin around, and stamp my foot down on the wooden shaft. My teacher, Glaucus, was right when he taught me that sometimes a warrior’s best weapon is her opponent’s worst judgment.
The young guard sprawled on his belly. I jumped astride his back, yanked off his helmet, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head back and letting the flat of my blade just touch the side of his neck.
“I’m going to leave now,” I said. My words were calm, but my heart was beating wildly. “And you’re going to let me go in peace.” He cursed, so I gave his hair a second tug to recapture his attention. “Look, I didn’t come here seeking trouble. I’m no Athenian. I was told that anyone could visit this shrine. If I’ve done something wrong, it wasn’t deliberate. I’ve just completed a long, dangerous voyage, but a friend of mine wasn’t so lucky. He wasn’t much older than you. Show a little pity for the dead, all right? I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.”
“Fine,” my captive grumbled between gritted teeth. “Let me up and get out of my sight.”