“What’s Apollo got to do with journeys?” Hedgehog-hair demanded. “A prayer to Hermes, that’s what you need if you’re going on foot, or Poseidon, if you’re traveling by sea.”
I shook my head. “That’s what they said, even when I told them that the sun god watches over all travelers.”
“So, now you’re a priest, too?” This time the men’s laughter was at my expense.
I let them have their fun, then softly said, “It doesn’t take a priest to know which god’s been offended when men die sunstruck.”
My words sank into their minds, dragging down the corners of their mouths. One of them clutched an amulet he wore around his neck. Another muttered a few words under his breath. I worked hard to keep my face solemn. If I could spin thread as skillfully as I spun words, my sister, Clytemnestra, would die envying me.
“That’s harsh, lad,” one of the men said, patting me on the shoulder. “Where did it happen?”
“About five days’ march south, in wild country.” I took care to have our masters die too far away for anyone to bother confirming my story, just as I’d first made sure there were no other Mykenaeans around to call me out for lying. “We covered them with stones and made the proper sacrifices, then decided to honor our masters’ spirits by finishing their journey for them.”
Hedgehog-hair rubbed his chin, where a small black beard straggled around his jawline. “That’s noble of you, boy. Pious and practical at the same time. I wish you luck.” With that, he and the other three turned their backs on me and walked away.
I scampered after them. “Wait! Can’t any of you use a pair of able-bodied weapons bearers? The gods will reward you, for our masters’ sakes.”
The men stopped and gave me pitying looks. The shortest of the four spoke: “Lad, how do you know what the gods will do?” He managed a wobbly smile. “Apollo himself might still be angry. Your masters are beyond his reach, but what’s to stop him from taking it out on you?” He shook his head. “This voyage we’re about to take is off over unknown waters, to lands full of fierce barbarians, monsters, dangers so great that the praise-singers will go crazy trying to find the right words to describe our glorious deeds. We can’t afford to bring along two boys who might be carrying a god’s displeasure. Sorry, but we can’t risk it.”
The four walked on. I stayed behind, seething. “Pork-brains,” I snarled under my breath. “Unknown waters, yet you know there are monsters and barbarians on the other side?” I went to report my failure to Milo.
“At least you came up with a good explanation for who we’re supposed to be and why we’ve come here alone,” he said when I finished. “Which one was my master, Pelops or Tantalus?”
“Pick one and give me the leftover,” I grumped.
“Pelops, then; easier to remember. Look, it’s a big ship with a big crew. You only spoke to, what, three of the men?”
“Four.” I thought about this, then said, “You’re saying that one bad olive doesn’t mean the whole crop’s rotten, right?”
“One or even four, yes.” One corner of his mouth curved up. “Unless you’re used to getting your own way easily.”
“I am not!” I took his light teasing to heart. “The things I’ve wanted didn’t all come easily. I had to fight to learn how to use a warrior’s weapons. I had to work to convince Atalanta to teach me how to ride a horse.”
“Then fight for this, too,” Milo said. “I’ll help, if you’ll let me. Tell me again about our dead masters.”
We went over our story several times before we split up to seek other crewmen from the Argo. We agreed to meet in the alley when the sun was directly overhead. “Talk to the men still down by the ship,” I told Milo. “I’ll try my luck closer to the palace.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Milo looked doubtful. “Your brothers might be up there, if they aren’t here by the water.”
“It’s time I started to practice dodging them. If I can’t do that now, what hope do I have of doing it once we’ve sailed? And don’t forget, they know your face just as well as mine. What are you going to say if you meet them?”
Milo nibbled the corner of his lip in thought, then brightened and declared, “I decided that it was no use having my freedom if I didn’t use it, so I left you in Delphi and struck out on my own. And don’t worry, I know the rest.” We parted, he for the waterside, I for the palace within the citadel atop the heights of Iolkos.
The sun was beating straight down on the dirt streets when we met back in that alleyway, tired and hungry. Even the rats had taken shelter from Apollo’s burning arrows. Our faces told the whole story before either of us could speak: No one wanted to hire a weapons bearer for the Argo’s voyage.
“That was a waste of sandal leather,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow as I leaned against the barely shaded side of the alley. “I lost count of how many men I spoke to. Every one of them turned me down. The Argo’s crammed with heroes, but they’re all determined to look after themselves.”
“Same here.” Milo tilted his head back and took a long drink from the water-skin slung over his shoulder. I had one as well, but it had been empty since the morning. I’d been so impatient to find us a place on the Argo that I’d neglected to fill it. “It’s funny,” Milo went on. “The more men I questioned, the more their reasons for not hiring us sounded…false. False and forced, as if they were repeating words they didn’t want to say.”