She didn’t try to coax me into joining her, merely summoned the guard who stood in for Telys when I visited the queen. “See the lady Helen to her room,” she said, and turned her back on me.
That evening, I was seated on my mattress, finishing the last of my dinner, when I heard a gasp from the night guard posted outside my room. “Lady Aithra!” he exclaimed, and tore the door curtain aside so violently that he nearly pulled it off its hanging rings. I looked up from my plate to see the well-dressed regal woman enter my room. She’d pulled her mantle up over her head, putting her face into darkness, but a few gray curls escaped into the light and trailed down one shoulder. I wondered what she wanted from me now. She had a thin blanket draped over her arms. Even if the night were cold, why wouldn’t she simply order a slave to bring that to me?
“Lady Aithra, is anything the matter?” I asked, setting aside my dish and rising to my feet. She shook her veiled head, then turned and pulled the curtain all the way back across the doorway. That done, she edged past me and went into the farthest corner of my tiny room before settling herself into a very un-queenly squat against the wall, the blanket still covering her hands. She sighed happily, then nodded for me to join her. For a moment I hesitated, convinced that her son’s long neglect had broken her mind at last. Who knew what she had concealed under that blanket? Medea had taught me to keep my distance from madwomen. Then I realized my error.
I knelt beside her and peered into the shadows cast by her mantle. “You’re not the queen,” I whispered. “Who are you?”
“A grateful mother,” she replied softly. She let the blanket slide to the floor, revealing reddened, rough hands. No one who saw such work-hardened hands could ever mistake her for a queen.
When she pushed back her mantle, I drew in my breath sharply in shock. “You’re the woman who sold me the offerings I needed for Hades’ shrine,” I said, struggling to keep my voice to a murmur.
“True.” She reached inside her gown and pulled up a thin leather thong hung with the same amber bead I’d traded to her. “Telys is my son.”
We spoke as softly as we could to keep our conversation from the guard outside. Telys’s mother thanked me for all I’d done for her boy.
“I still can’t believe I ever took you for a lad,” she said. “Look at you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful young woman, body and spirit.”
I made haste to change the subject. “And I can’t believe you simply walked in here unquestioned, as the queen.”
She smiled. “It’s easy enough. I know the ways of the palace. When I’m clad like this”—she held up a fold of her fine gown—“the guards see only the dress, not the woman.”
“Where did you get such clothing?” I asked.
“It was a gift from my boy’s father.” She looked wistful as she stroked the supple wool covering her knees. I’d imagined that she’d gone to the old king’s bed because she’d been a slave and had no choice about it, but her eyes told a different story. “These garments are old, but I preserve them well. This disguise is the only way I can see my son as often as I’d like.” She held up her hands and studied them ruefully. “As long as I keep these hidden from sight, no one questions me. I’ve also learned it’s not wise to linger too long under her roof.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” I said. “I don’t know where Telys is right now.”
“But I do.” Her smile was much like his. “Tonight I’ve come to see you, Lady Helen. I’m here to let you know my son’s found us the right ship, a merchant vessel that sails for Tiryns tomorrow.”
Tiryns, I thought. So Telys has his sign that Artemis forgives him. Good. “This is a gift from the gods,” I said with more enthusiasm than I felt. “I wish you both a peaceful voyage.”
Her brows met in a puzzled frown. “You speak as if you’re staying here.”
“It’s not what I want. To leave Athens, first I need a way out of the royal citadel. It’s all I think about, but the only thing that fills my mind is the sound of the gods laughing at me.” I bowed my head, dejected.
“We’re not leaving Athens without you.” Telys’s mother spoke in a voice that forbade argument.
“Nonsense. I’ll be fine.” I smiled as boldly as I could manage. “You could carry a message to my sister from me, asking for help. I don’t want to drag Mykenae into war, but if worse comes to worst—”
“If worse comes to worst, you’ll be pregnant with Theseus’s child by summer,” she said bluntly. “Lady Helen, sometimes what’s simplest works best. At dawn tomorrow you’re going to walk out of the palace, through the great citadel gates, and down the city hill to the sea. No one will stop you.”
“They won’t?” My brows rose sharply.
“Why should they?” She spoke with calm assurance. “Haven’t you done the same thing a dozen times before, when the queen takes you with her to the temples to pray for her son?”
The sun was a sliver of gold on the eastern horizon when we approached the great citadel gate. There were five of us—Telys, his mother, myself, and two elderly slave women. They were the same age as Telys’s mother and were her dearest friends. Each carried a large basket on one shoulder, apparently brimming with offerings for the gods.
The air was still cool from the night before, but we women would have kept our mantles up over our heads even if the day had blazed like Hephaistos’s hottest forge. The pair of guards on duty peered at our group in the faint light and saw what they expected to see.