She sat cross legged on a wool sack in the small cult room and prayed. To her left a flight of stone stairs led up to the ground floor of the palace and, on her right, a break in a low wall opened onto a shorter flight that ran down into the sacred bath, where priestesses anointed themselves with sweet smelling unguents in honour of the Gods. She faced a low stone ledge that was covered in a thin sheet of gold on which stood small painted ceramic statuettes of the Gods, surrounded by token sacred offerings of flowers and berries that were fashioned in faience.
The room was lit by four torches attached to the walls, which gave off a flickering light that reflected off the white-tiled walls, causing the raised arms of the statues to seem to move in time with her chanted prayers. The room contained no wood at all; she knew that because she had searched it most thoroughly. She had not expected to find any, under the circumstances, but it was worth a try. She was dressed simply without jewellery but, as befitted a "slave of the God"; her clothes were of the highest quality. Her white linen dress shone in colours of red, orange and yellow in the torchlight, as did her blonde hair.
The baby in her arms cried gently and she held it to her breast to suckle, making soft cooing noises and pulling down the top of her long flared dress. Bright blue eyes gazed back up at her as her son fed greedily of her milk and she smiled fondly at him, stroking his face with her free hand. He finally finished and drifted off to sleep with a contented gurgle.
She heard the muffled sound of boots outside her door and then the bolt was thrown back with a thud that echoed around the cell-like room. Surely it was not dawn already? A companion of the king entered, dressed in the full martial uniform of an Achaean warrior. He was a tall man, who had to stoop to get through the low doorway, causing his polished bronze armour plates to clatter.
She ignored the companion and continued her prayer, making the signs of power and obeisance with her right hand. The man stood patiently by the door, obviously reluctant to commit the sacrilege of interrupting. When she was quite finished, he approached and saluted by touching his right hand to his heart.
"It is time, Lady," he said, brusquely.
She went to rise, but she was encumbered by the child on her left hip and her legs were cramped, so she stumbled. The man held his hand out to steady her and she gripped it automatically with her right hand, without thinking.
"Ow!" she uttered a small cry.
"Is your hand injured? Shall I call a healer?" He looked with concern at her palm.
"It's nothing." She snatched her hand from his before he could examine it closely. She forced herself to smile. "It hardly matters now, in any case."
He nodded and pointed to the door, indicating that she should leave. She went up the steps and through the door into a corridor of the palace. She turned right automatically towards the megaron but the companion tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the left.
"I am to leave from the side door, then, not the main entrance," she said, with more than a touch of bitterness.
"Those are my instructions, lady," said the companion, who had the grace to look embarrassed. He held a torch that he had removed from the sanctuary, as the part of the palace that they were heading for was badly lit.
She strode down the corridor, head held high. The palace was built on a small hill so every few yards, the corridor descended down stone steps. They turned a bend and the decorative level of the walls dropped sharply as they entered the working area. Doors led off into magazines where pithoi, giant jars, full of beans, grain and olive oil were stored.
They left the palace by a small door low down on the hill. The curtain wall of the citadel was just below them at this point and she could see guards huddling around braziers behind the parapet. Even at this height she could smell the acrid tang of burning charcoal.
"Is it really necessary to leave before dawn?" she asked.
"The curator thought it best if no one saw you go," the companion replied. "He does not want the commoners to get over excited."
"Do I really frighten him that much?" she laughed. "I think he overestimates my power."
The companion shrugged, "I have . . ."
"Your orders, yes, I know," she interrupted. "I am surprised that the curator thought that you alone would be sufficient to guard me."
"Actually, I have some of my followers down in the chariot park to be your escort," he said, a note of shame colouring his voice.
She laughed again. "I won't try to overpower you then. Shall we go? We shouldn't keep your men waiting, should we?"
The companion overtook her so that he could light the way as they took the treacherous path on the steep sloped hill. When they rounded the corner of the palace complex, she could see due east. The first shining glow of dawn lit the horizon and lights showed on rooftops as women moved around to prepare breakfast down in the lower town. Although the companion had obeyed the letter of his orders to remove her from the palace before dawn, he had cut it very fine. She was not surprised that he had interpreted his orders so, as no warrior liked to drive a chariot in the dark.
They descended by the main steps into the chariot park where the companion's men waited. Horses were already yoked to the chariots, their heads held by grooms. The park was still in gloom, lit only by palace servants holding torches, so she smelt and heard the horses more than saw them.
The companion gripped her shoulder and propelled her to a chariot. "This is your driver," he said.
A boy saluted her, and handed her up into his chariot, where she took the warrior's place on the right hand side. The boy climbed in beside her and fussed with the reigns, shouting technical instructions to the groom at the horses' head. While the boy made his final adjustments, she glanced up at the palace for the last time. The sun was high enough in the sky to illuminate the white stone in pink light. The curator stood in the main entrance, surrounded by his procurators, presumably checking that his orders were being followed although he would be hard pressed to see her down in the shadows. She deliberately turned her head away from the palace that had been her home since birth, and she did not look back again.
A zephyr slipped over the curtain wall of the citadel, funnelling through the alleys between the workshops and minor functionaries' houses that surrounded the palace. It played with the dust and dead leaves, flinging them into the air in spirals. The zephyr rattled windows and tested the roofing tiles before sweeping down to the chariot park, unsettling the horses who pulled against the grooms' grip, stamping their feet on the paving stones and tossing their heads.
The wind elemental detected the magic in her immediately and swirled around her, teasing her by whipping her dress around her legs. It kept sniffing at her right hand so she shooed it away, persuading it to go and play in the town; one of her titles was Mistress of Winds.
The companion bawled an order to his men and the column moved out. Her chariot started with jerk and she had to grip the guard rail with her right hand, ignoring the sting of pain, as she held her baby with the left. The companion led the column with her chariot right behind, where he could keep an eye on her. The chariot wheels clattered over the paving stones, the sound echoing off the face of the palace buildings. They passed out of the citadel by the cavalry gate, which opened onto the Argolid plain, bypassing the lower town where the commoners lived. The chariots picked their way carefully in the half light along the road of hard packed earth and stones that ran around the town. They progressively speeded up as more light filtered down from the rising sun until they were moving at a fast trot.
She had ridden in a chariot many times before so she automatically bent her knees to absorb the bumps. The chariot axle was completely unsprung but the passengers stood on taut leather strips that buffered against the worst of the shocks. She pulled her baby in close to her body, where he would be warm, as there was still a chill in the early morning air. The boy who drove her chariot chatted cheerfully to her about inconsequentials.
The column made good progress and they had reached the sanctuary of The Lady at Syssos by the time the sun was properly up. The priestesses were lined up outside as the column approached, their right hands raised to their foreheads in prayer. Their journey was supposed to be completely confidential but it was impossible to keep secrets from the Servants of The Lady.
"Stop the chariot," she ordered her driver.
Surprised, he pulled up, disrupting the whole column. The warriors surrounded her chariot, gripping their spears nervously. She moved to climb out of the back but the driver grabbed her arm. When she looked at him imperiously, he dropped his hand.
"I'm sorry, Lady, but you can't get out until we reach our destination," the driver said.
The companion turned his chariot and galloped back. "What is it?"
"I am cold so I need to borrow a cloak. I wonder if you would be so kind as to ask the priestesses of The Lady if they could give me one of theirs?"
"Wait here, please, Madame," he said. The companion jumped down from his chariot and hurried over to the sanctuary to talk to the women. A priestess unclipped her own cloak from her neck and handed it to him. He saluted her and returned, draping it over the lady's shoulders.
"Would you fasten it for me?" she said.
He clipped the brooch in place, adjusting the hang so it covered her baby. Then, without a word, he returned to his chariot and restarted the column on its way.
It took several hours to reach Kephalos and she was soon glad of the additional layer of clothes as the weather gradually deteriorated and dark clouds gathered over the mountains. The wind built up, until it was blowing strongly against her back, whipping her blonde hair into her eyes. When they reached the little village the party debussed from the chariots. Kephalos was a small fishing port, built on the shore of a bay where a modest fishing fleet was drawn up on the sandy beach.
The locals had turned out to greet their illustrious visitor, as word spread from house to house, many of them holding their arms out in supplication to the Gods. Her escort moved closely around her and gripped their spears firmly. The illusion that they were an honour guard was stripped away as the men adopted the pose of guards, surrounding her and hiding her from the villagers. The party made its way along a path to the southern promontory that bounded the bay. She stumbled a few times as she still wore her delicate palace slippers but the warriors caught her each time. The wind howled around them and the sky overhead darkened, shedding the first drops of rain.
The royal party stood at the end of the promontory where the cliffs fell in a sheer drop into the sea. Spearmen and warriors sealed off the area but they allowed the companion and his party to pass without comment. She walked up to an elderly man in long purple robes and curtseyed. "Greetings, royal father."
"You are no daughter of mine nor is your bastard my grandchild," said the king.
"He is no bastard," she said, defiantly.
"And who is his father?" said the king, rhetorically.
"I have told you," she replied. "The God fathered my son."
The rain was lashing down now, plastering her hair against her head, so she moved the baby deeper under the cloak to protect him.
"Ah, yes. Zeus came to you in a shower of gold and ravished you," said the king, sarcastically, spreading his arms and appealing to his courtiers who dutifully laughed sycophantically on queue. "You think to foster my brother's by-blow on me."
She raised her right arm and her voice so all present could hear her voice over the storm. "The God did sire my child, father, and I call all here to bear witness to this injustice and to hear my prophecy. I will be avenged by my son, who will take the life of all those who have wronged me. This I foretell."
While she talked, she rubbed the wound in the palm of her hand, checking that the wooden splinter still lodged where she had placed it yesterday. A thunderbolt struck the sea, lighting up the promontory and thunder crashed over them.
"Spare me your magic tricks, witch. The Gods will surely protect you if you are so beloved by them" said the king, with a sneer. However, a number of his cronies looked distinctly uncomfortable. Perhaps they remembered that the lady's name meant "she who judges."
There was nothing left to say so she walked to the edge of the cliff. Below, the grey-green sea heaved, spraying white foam into the wind. The baby cried, frightened by the thunderbolt, and she hushed him. She said a small prayer, building up the power in her hand, and jumped. As she fell, the lady thrust forward with her hand, crying words of magic, and an elongate bubble of yellow light snapped around her. She just had time to cushion her baby's head with her right hand before she hit the water with an almighty splash.
The yellow bubble speared deeply into the salt water, surrounded by bubbles, where it hung in the water, drifting in the current. Blood ran from the baby's forehead where the magically charged splinter had scored it. Two dolphins appeared and circled the bubble curiously, nosing against it with their beaks, their upturned mouths giving the appearance of a friendly grin. The dolphins metamorphed into nereids, the wet ones, like a lady taking off her mask. Their rear halves remained fish-like but the rest of their bodies had the likeness of beautiful green-haired women, breasts floating gently in the currents. The nereids were famous for their gentle humour and generous dispositions. These two seized the bubble and bore it away, taking it in turns to the surface to breathe.
* * *
A man and woman stood over an empty cot, gazing at each other. They were both dressed in simply cut clothes of expensive, lustrous linen, the man in a tunic and the woman in a dress decorated in purple whirls, which dropped to her ankles. Her hair was coiled in elaborate coils that fell in long strands in front of her ears but was piled up behind on top of her head.
"I can't do it," the woman said. Tears flowed gently down her face, depositing black streaks on her pale skin. "I just can't do it."
The man sighed. "You think that I like this, Serenissa? You think that I want this?" He put his arm round her. "There will be other children, Astarte willing."
She pulled away. "I don't want other children. I want her. I want her smile and I want the light in her eyes. She's so special."
"What would you have me do, see the city destroyed? Poseidon must be satisfied and only the magic of royal blood will do." The man was angry now. "I have my responsibilities."
"Yes," the woman said, softly. "You have your responsibilities. But I have thought of an alternative."
She held his hands and looked into his eyes; he looked back with growing horror.
* * *
The little girl played with her rag dolls on a tiled floor in a small room whose entrance, guarded by a spearman, opened onto a sunlit courtyard. Solid red pillars, that were wider at the top than the bottom, could be seen through the open doorway. A young woman, dressed in the elaborate robes of a priestess, entered and held out her hand.
"'Lo, Cassie," said the little girl, jumping to her feet and rushing to hold the woman's hand. The little girl chattered as the woman led her out into the courtyard. Like all children, she followed the woman without noticing where they were going. That changed when she found herself up on the citadel wall, as this was forbidden territory. She could smell and hear the sea but, no matter how she stretched, she could not see the ocean over the crenulated defences. Further along the wall, a wooden platform had been erected on which stood a pair of spearmen and two ladies, one dressed in the robes of a priestess and the other, in the rich, purple clothes of a queen.
"Mama," the little girl yelled and tried to run to the platform but the young woman held her back.
The queen looked around in alarm. "What's she doing here?" The queen tried to leave the platform but the spearmen grabbed her, one on each arm.
The spearmen looked at the priestess, who nodded. They seized the queen tighter and threw her off the citadel wall to the rocks far below.
The little girl screamed and screamed and screamed but the priestess and the young woman exchanged cruel and triumphant smiles.
* * *
"Gently, you sons of bitches, nose her in gently," said the ship's captain, holding himself rigidly upright as the deck pitched.
The rowers dropped their oars back into the water with a splash. They braced themselves and pushed back to brake the ship, noticeably slowing the galley. It slewed slightly in the water as the starboard oars bit just that little more deeply than those to port. The helmsman threw his weight against the steering oar, swinging the bow back into line.
"Quite right, Captain," said Perseus. "We don't want any accidents or you might get a closer shave than you need."
Perseus spoke in Kretan, the common language of the islands, with the languid drawl of an Achaean aristocrat. He held the edge of his bronze sword against the captain's throat.
The captain swore, but not too loudly. "Should we ever meet again," he began.
Perseus interrupted him. "I will kill you on sight. Be thankful that this island was nearby, Captain, otherwise, I would have had to kill you and all the officers and try to navigate your ship myself. I hate sailing," he added.
The captain twisted his head around to look Perseus in the face. From his expression, the man was trying to work out whether he was joking. Perseus snatched a glance behind and braced himself as it wouldn't do to accidentally cut his hostage's throat before the man's usefulness was expended. As it happened, contact with the shore was reasonably smooth, the bow mounting the beach with a smooth hiss as momentum pushed the ship up the sand.
The rowers looked at each other uncertainly. Normally, they would have jumped overboard to pull the ship higher up the beach but the situation was hardly normal.
"Sit still, boys, and I will release your captain at the tree line. Remember, one wrong move and I kill him," Perseus said, menacingly.
"Do what the bastard says," said the captain, urgently.
Perseus lifted the man one handed out of the ship's bow and onto the shore. He backed up the beach, careful to keep his hostage in front of him as a shield. The vegetation came close to the water's edge so he did not have far to go. He stopped just within the trees.
"Remember your promise," pleaded the captain.
"An Achaean prince always keeps his word," said Perseus, loftily, as it never hurt to play up the heroic image a little. Who knows, someone might even be foolish enough to believe it. He reached down to the captain's waist and pulled free a pouch. "Mine, I think," he said.
The captain twitched but calmed down when Perseus pressed the sword harder into his throat. "You cheated," protested the captain.
"True," Perseus admitted. "But so did you so I thought it was a house rule. Goodbye, Captain." He forced the man's head down. The captain tensed and shut his eyes but Perseus laughed and kicked him out onto the beach before vanishing into the trees.
"Kill him," yelled the captain.
Arrows flew, one embedding itself into a tree trunk over Perseus' head and another glanced off the shield slung across his back, but mostly the missiles flew wide. He walked briskly for thirty paces or so then stopped. He leaned against a tree and took his boar's tooth helmet off so he could hear clearly. An argument raged down on the shoreline with the captain wanting to organise a pursuit but the sailors would have none of it. They lacked the stomach to chase after a heavily armed Achaean hero in a forest as they knew it would go ill with the first ones to find the fugitive.
Perseus waited patiently until he heard the ship launched then he walked back to the beach to check that all the sailors had gone. He had no intention of being murdered in his sleep by the old raiders' stratagem of a secret shore party left behind while the ship ostentatiously sailed away. The vessel was already far out to sea when he reached the beach and it was evident that he was quite alone.
He sat on a rock to consider his options, opening the captain's pouch to count his spoils. The pouch contained "fingers" of bronze, a few twists of gold and a ring of dubious silver but the jewels were disappointing: small garnets, indifferent carnelians and some bright blue stones that looked like lapis lazuli but which, on closer inspection, turned out to be dyed faience. The forgers of Egypt particularly specialised in faking jewels from glass beads. The best piece in the pouch was the necklace that he himself had given the captain in payment for passage.
He enjoyed the stability of the land as he was a poor sailor. The sun warmed his skin and sent light skittering off the surface of the sea. He sighed, picked up a stone and tossed it into the sea where it fell with a plop, and was swallowed up immediately. He had no idea at all where he was. Somewhere, there would be a small harbour for fishing vessels and coastal traders—even the meanest island boasted that. He could choose a direction at random and start walking around the coast but, given the indented nature of Aegean coastlines, it was likely to be a long hike. He decided to walk inland instead as the island was hilly and he should be able to find a vantage point from where he might search for human habitation.
A breeze stirred along the water, curling around him, cooling his skin and bringing the smell of cypress from the island's slopes. He could smell nothing man made, no wood, no smoke, no human smells at all. He stood up and attached his helmet to his sword harness then he strode purposefully back into the trees across ground that was dry with large areas of bare earth and scrubby bushes. He walked for some little time before he fancied that he heard the ring of a goat's bell in the distance, but it never came again so maybe he had imagined it.
Soon, he had a more pressing need, water. You can smell water, if you need a drink badly enough and he was very thirsty, so he sniffed the air. He turned right, following a faint scent even though it took him far uphill.
The island was silent, except for the faint rustle of trees stirred by the wind and the occasional bird cry, so he heard the stream long before he saw it. He also heard a woman scream and his sword came free with a metallic hiss. He ran toward the sound, further cries guiding his steps, until he burst upon the scene, sword raised. There, he doubled up with laughter.
Satyrs surrounded a young woman who beat ineffectually at them. The diminutive goat-men danced in a ring around her on their unsteady, backward-pointing legs, taking turns to dart in close to stroke her hair and body. As fast as she swatted one away, another took its place.
The girl was clearly not an islander as she was far too tall, with hair blacker than a raven's wing and smooth pale skin. She also wore an expensive, white, shining dress made of linen rubbed and washed in perfumed oil, indicating that she was someone special.
"What are you doing, Princess?" he asked, in Achaean. He tended to call all noble women princess—actually, he tended to call tavern girls princess as well as, in his experience, a little flattery was never wasted on the fairer sex.
"What does it look like, oaf? Do something. Ow!" she replied in the same language. A satyr sneaked in to pinch her bottom while she talked to Perseus. She dealt the goat-man a vigorous clout around his pointed ear that knocked him over.
Perseus laughed until he cried, placing her immediately by her accent. She was Maryannu, a descendent of the charioteers that had conquered their way down the Lebanese coast. They were cousins to the bronze-clad Achaeans who had turned west into the Aegean when the Maryannu clans had driven south, lured by stories of the wealth of Egypt. He bypassed the scrum to drink deeply out of the stream, splashing cold water onto his face and neck and gasping with enjoyment at the shock.
"Pass me my wand, you idiot," she said, pointing. A slim length of hazel poked from a pack lay by the stream. The creatures must have surprised her while she drank.
"This wand, Princess?" he asked, pulling it from her belongings.
"Of course that wand!" she said.
He slapped two of the creatures away and passed her the polished wood. She raised it over her head and chanted something softly in Maryannan. The wand described an arc, sparkles trailing in the air behind it. He smelt acrid fumes, like those left in the air after a thunderbolt and fear spread like a contagion among the satyrs who fled squealing. One tripped over Perseus' foot and it rolled in front of him, terror in its eyes. It scrambled along on all fours before vanishing into the bush.
"What did you do to them, Princess?" he asked, amused.
She smoothed down her dress with a fluid motion. "I made them see that which they most feared." The princess shrugged. "I've no idea what that might be."
"A lion, maybe," he said, thoughtfully. It took considerable magic power to weave an illusion so real with just a few passes of a wand.
"Thank you for all your help," she said, making a final, and quite unnecessary, adjustment to the hang of her clothes.
"My pleasure, Princess," he replied, ignoring her sarcasm. "I suppose that you really are a princess?"
The girl elevated her nose a little higher. "My father is King Cepheus of Joppa. And you are?"
"Prince Perseus, at your service lady," he said, bowing.
"Prince Perseus of where?" she asked.
"That's a little complicated," he said.
"I see," she replied, lifting an eyebrow.
He doubted that she did, but he let it pass. She hefted up her bag and started up the hill.
"Where are you going?" he asked, falling in beside her.
"And when did that become your business?" she replied.
He laughed. "I'm just making conversation. It is a little unexpected to find a princess of Joppa roaming around alone on the islands."
She turned and faced him, hands on hips, dark eyes flashing. "You don't believe me do you?"
"Oh, I believe that you are a Maryannu lady, no one else would mangle Achaean quite so prettily, but a princess normally has a retinue."
"I did have a retinue but I lost them." She actually stamped a foot.
He pulled a branch back for her to pass. "That seems careless. How did it happen?"
"It was the first night after we landed. A spearman woke me saying that we were being attacked. There was a lot of yelling in the dark and Mattra, that's the commander, told me to run into the trees so I did, but no one came after me. I looked for my men in the morning but they were gone."
"Dead?" he asked.
"Just gone, leaving me alone" she said.
She was making an effort to be brave but he saw her lower lip quiver. She was by no means as assured as she pretended.
"I suppose we could travel together," he said, gallantly.
"I suppose we could, if you are going my way." She spoke formally, but she flashed him a smile of gratitude.
"Which is your way?" he asked, surveying the countryside.
"Up the hill but I am not supposed to tell you any more," she said. "I am on a secret mission."
"A secret mission, no less," said Perseus, smiling.
"Now you are laughing at me," she said, biting her lip.
"Perhaps just a little, Princess, but you look so solemn." He held up his hand in supplication. "I intended to climb the hill a little higher anyway so we may as well go together for the company."
They moved through the heat of the late afternoon and as they walked she chattered non-stop about the landscape, life in Joppa, and her family, until he soon thought that he knew a great deal about her. Normally, he found chattering women irritating but she was pleasant company, if charmingly naïve, so he enjoyed the journey, rather to his surprise. The trees thinned out to be replaced by bushes and, before long, the sun was low on the horizon.
"We should make camp for the night," he finally said. "Do you have any food?"
"A little bread," she replied. "You have brought nothing?"
"I have this," he replied, unlooping a strip of linen from his pouch. "Wait here for me and be very quiet."
Mercifully, she sat down without arguing. He stooped and picked up a round stone that he placed in the centre of the strip of cloth. He walked silently to the edge of a clearing and waited for rabbits emerging to feed as the sun set. A movement caught his eye and he whirled the stone over his head and released, the missile making a clean kill. Perseus retrieved his game and retraced his steps, dropping the dead animal in front of her.
"Clean the bunny, lady, while I get a fire going." He pushed a dagger into her hands. Perseus skilfully kindled the fire but when he looked up, she was still poking tentatively at the rabbit with his knife. "You haven't got very far with that," he said.
"I don't know how to, Perseus. I'm not a scullery maid."
He was about to scold her for her arrogance when he realised that she was almost in tears. She really had no idea how to prepare food. Taking the knife, he quickly cleaned and skinned the beast, showing her the technique. He fixed the meat on sticks to roast over the campfire before settling down beside her.
"That man who was captain of your bodyguard, Princess."
"Mattra?" she interrupted.
"Yes, Mattra. Known him long?" he asked, casually.
"All my life," she replied. "He was often the spearman on guard outside my door in the palace."
"I see," he replied, neutrally.
"How did you get that scar?" she asked, pointing. "It looks like a thunderbolt."
"I had an accident when I was young." He rubbed his forehead self-consciously. "I have no idea when it happened. My mother said it was the price we paid the Gods to escape Argos."
"Where did you learn to use a sling?" she asked.
"I learned from the shepherds of Seriphos. My mother, Danae, was exiled there and the king, Polydectes, married her. A princess of Argolis is a prestigious consort for a minor king and mother's options were limited so she agreed to the match. Unfortunately, Polydectes acquired me as an unwelcome addition to his household so he encouraged me to spend as much time as possible up in the hills with the flocks."
He rotated the sticks to cook the rabbit meat evenly.
"I decided to travel abroad once I reached my maturity. The king was so delighted that he actually gave me gold to speed me away."
"Polydectes was not your father then."
"Good grief, no." He shared the rabbit out. They were both hungry and devoted themselves to the meal but, once it was over, she wanted to talk.
"So who was your father? I sense a palace intrigue," she said, stretching her legs out languidly.
He found himself looking at her slender outline through the long dress, which shone red and orange in the firelight. A whisper of wind carried a hint of perfumed oils from her body.
"Zeus," he replied, succinctly.
She laughed.
"No, really," he said. "My grandfather, King Acrisius of Argolis, had shut my mother up in the palace as a punishment, when Zeus came to her as a shimmer of gold in the air and I was the result."
"So who was your father really?" she wheedled.
"The Argolis has dual kings and the other one was my grandfather's brother, Proteus. The reason that my mother was in disgrace is that she had been caught in bed with Uncle Proteus, so you work it out, Princess."
"You Achaeans have such deliciously convoluted family scandals," she said, giggling.
Her face shone bright in the flickering firelight.
"It's late," he said. "We should sleep."
They settled each side of the fire, which flickered low. An animal howled somewhere out on the island startling her. She shot over the ashes and snuggled close to him.
"I'm cold," she said, defensively.
He rolled over and put a strong arm around her. "Sleep well, my lady," he said.
She fell asleep immediately but he lay awake a little longer. She smelt fragrant from the perfumed oils rubbed into her hair and skin. He breathed her scent in deeply, identifying hyssop, cypress and sweet sage. She snuffled gently and snuggled close to him, her body warm against his.
He was not unduly concerned with wild animals. He slept lightly, from long experience of the wilderness, and his bronze sword was close by his hand. He drifted into sleep with her scent in his nostrils, making him dream of exotic palace ladies, hearing the clang of their jewellery, the tapping of their boots on the stone floors and smelling the rich scent that followed them.
* * *
In the morning, Perseus found a rocky outcrop that gave him an unrestricted view over the trees so that he could see along the entire arc of the coast but there was no sign of human activity.
"What are you looking for?" the princess asked, from the bottom of the rock.
"A village where I can find a boat," he replied.
"The only one on the island is over there," she said, pointing in the opposite direction to the path they had taken.
He jumped down and glowered at her.
"Well, how did you think that I got here?" she asked, defensively.
"I didn't like to ask. You being on a secret mission," he said, sarcastically.
"You could stay with me," she said, hesitantly. "In return, I could give you passage on my ship."
"Why would you want my assistance?" he asked, warily.
"I'm scared," she said, with disarming honesty. "I have never been on my own in the wilderness and . . ." She paused and looked at him with dark eyes shadowed with kohl, so strikingly different from the blue-eyed Achaeans. "I trust you."
He did not know how to answer that as his own life had not inclined him to be overly trusting. He adjusted the hang of his shield to give his hands something to do. "You should not be so accepting of people, Princess. So why have you come here?"
"Up there," she pointed up the hill, "is a ruined temple to one of the old gods. It contains a great treasure that I intend to claim for Joppa."
"A great treasure," he repeated, thoughtfully. "Perhaps I shall accompany you. No doubt Joppa would reward me handsomely, for seeing you and the treasure safely home."
"Oh yes," she said, happily.
They continued to climb but the way became steeper and rockier and they were soon forced to scramble. The girl was fit; life in the rich splendour of a Maryannu palace had clearly not spoilt her, but even so, she eventually tired. He halted to allow her to rest and drink. Naturally, she asked questions.
"How did you end up here, Perseus, with not even a water skin for refreshment?"
"I had to leave my ship rather too quickly." He laughed. "The captain liked to play dice but he was a poor loser."
"Did you win much?" she asked.
"Everything he had," he said, with a grin. She laughed with him, showing even white teeth. "I am surprised that your father sent you so far from Joppa on such an errand," said Perseus. "Hasn't he any sons or heroes to call upon?"
"Daddy thinks that I am attending a ceremony up in the hills behind Joppa." She giggled happily. "The queen, Cassiopeia, chose me for the task. She's my stepmother and she thinks daddy cossets me too much. The temple is magical, you see, and I'm good at magic." She tried to speak matter of factly but her tone betrayed her pride in her skill. "So you had to leave all your belongings on your ship?" she asked, adroitly switching the focus of the conversation back to him.
"I had nothing on the ship other than what you see," he said, bowing. "I lost all else when I had to leave Siffa in a hurry."
She clapped her hands with pleasure. "Your life is full of fast exits, Prince Perseus. Do tell me the story."
"It was all caused by a bad oyster," he said, solemnly.
"A bad oyster?" she repeated.
"The army commander had one for lunch and was obliged to go home early. I was the captain of mercenaries guarding his villa. Unfortunately, when he burst into his bedroom, which was on the way to his personal privy, I am afraid that he caught me bodyguarding his wife's body rather closer than he thought necessary. The lady screamed 'rape,' of course, so I had to leg it out of the window, taking her necklace with me tangled up in my sword belt."
"You kept your sword on," she said, faintly.
"I was on guard," he said. His tone suggested surprise that she might doubt his commitment to duty. "Anyway, I thought it wiser to head straight for the docks and find a ship leaving immediately rather than go back to the barracks for my kit."
"I see," she said, biting her lip. "I think we should go as there is still a way to climb."
She watched him carefully as he stood up. "Was she worth it," the princess said, abruptly. "The commander's lady, I mean."
"Oh yes," he said, adjusting the weight of his shield evenly across his back. "She was worth it."
The princess was rather cold with him after that, speaking only in monosyllables. He gave up trying to talk to her and concentrated on finding the best route, which turned out to be a steep, rocky path that had probably been made by goats. As they climbed, he pondered on her strange behaviour, which reinforced his view that women were odd creatures.
"Does your stepmother have any daughters?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Why do you want to know?"
"No reason," he said. "And you are the daughter of the old queen, so the inheritance passes through you?"
"My husband will be king one day." She looked at him with open suspicion.
"Unless something happens to you first," he pointed out. "In which case, your stepmother's eldest daughter inherits."
She looked at him and bit her lip again. In his opinion, Queen Cassiopeia was right to consider that her father had given her far too sheltered an upbringing. Achaean princesses absorbed palace politics with their mother's milk but this girl seemed to be entirely ignorant of the realities facing those born in the shadow of a throne.
The path disappeared at the base of a rock, which he examined carefully. It was worn and cracked by the sun and rain, offering plentiful handholds. A small overhang near the top presented the only real challenge. "I want you to go up first, Princess. Don't worry, I will follow close behind." He smiled, reassuringly.
"Not too close, I trust," she said, tartly. She sniffed, packing a world of meaning into the sound, and swung herself up, moving across the rock wit graceful agility.
He smiled to himself and followed her up, watching her closely, a duty that was not wholly distasteful. At one point, she slipped, stones scrabbling from under her and he slammed an arm across her back, holding her against the rock.
"Careful, Princess," he warned.
She nodded and resumed climbing, while he watched her admiringly. He had come to the conclusion that she really was a plucky little thing.
"I can't go any further, Perseus," she said, clinging to a ledge. The overhang loomed above. He climbed alongside her and round her, being careful not to knock her slight body off the rock.
"Wait here," he said, reaching up over the protruding rock and grabbing for a handhold. When he found one, he pulled himself up one-handed, until he could also grip with his other hand and scramble onto the top of the overhang. The summit of the island was flat with grass and trees. Insects buzzed, and the sickly aroma of decay filled the air.
"Perseus, are you still there?" Her voice wavered slightly.
He lowered himself onto his front and hooked a leg around a convenient tree. Then he pushed himself out over the overhand, taking a firm grip on the rock with his left hand and reaching down with his right.
She stretched up for him but their hands did not quite touch.
"Push off the rock and jump towards me," he said, encouragingly.
She stared at him and reached again, her hand shaking, but it was too far.
"Have courage, Princess. Only a little jump and I will catch you."
She closed her eyes and leapt. His hand slapped smoothly onto her wrist, holding her tight. She swung for one heart-stopping moment in mid-air, before he pulled her up beside him. He rose to his feet, lifting the princess onto hers, but she continued to cling to him.
"What's that smell?" she asked.
Before he could reply, she fainted away, becoming a dead weight in his arms.
* * *
"You pig," she said, hitting him in the arm. "So I don't like heights."
He held his arms up in supplication. "Peace, Princess. I was only teasing. It was very brave of you to jump into space."
"I told you," she said, turning brown eyes on him. "I trust you."
"So you did, lady." He concentrated on watching his surroundings as they walked. The high plateau stretched before them but it was thickly wooded in places, which prevented him from seeing very far. The Achaean automatically eased his sword in its sheath, assuring himself that it would slide smoothly free in an emergency.
"So what was that foul odour?" she asked, plodding beside him.
"A dead goat," he replied, succinctly.
She digested this, chewing her lip in what he realised was a characteristic habit. "That's a good sign, surely. If a goat was up here then there must be an easier way off this plateau than that overhang." She shuddered at the memory.
"That's true," he said, flatly. "But I would like to know what killed the beast."
He held a branch back for her and she ducked under his arm.
"Why are you so frightened of heights?" he asked.
"Because that's how my mother died," she said, unemotionally. "They made me watch when they threw her off the citadel walls."
"I'm sorry, Princess. You should have said and I would have found some other way up. Of what crime was your mother accused?" he asked, carefully, because the official charge against a disgraced queen rarely bore much relation to her true offence, assuming there was one at all.
"She was not being punished, as she had committed no crime. It was a matter of blood. Joppa is cursed by the Gods and only the sacrifice of magical blood from the royal line protects the city from destruction. It should have been me, you see, that was the gift but my mother chose to sacrifice herself, instead." A tear rolled down the girl's cheek. She wiped it away, angrily.
He had underestimated this princess as her life had clearly not been the smooth voyage that he had assumed. It was not unknown in Achaea to "gift" a royal female child to the Gods. Now, he understood why King Cepheus held his daughter so closely. She must remind him of his dead queen and he wondered how the new queen felt about that. They emerged from a thicket to find a building so ruined that walls were barely waist high, except for a corner piece.
"That doesn't look like a temple," she said, doubtfully.
"Far too small," he agreed. "But it was built of stone, like a little palace. Maybe it was a priest's house, in which case the temple ruins can't be far away."
Something moved on the edge of his vision. The Achaean's reflexes had been honed by years of living by the sword. He pushed the princess back against the high wall with his right hand and, in the same motion, swung the shield off his back and onto his left arm. The Achaean grasped the metal grip on the rim and thrust the shield against the dark shape that sprang up at him. The central bronze boss hit something hard with a thud, knocking it to the ground. He drew his sword and stabbed downwards, the point spitting the animal before it could roll back on its feet. It yelped and died, voiding its wastes onto the ground.
He could see that it was a dog. More prowled around the couple, rattled by the pack leader's death, keeping their distance while trying to build up courage for an attack. The Achaean picked the largest animal out, advancing on it in three long strides. The animal stood its ground, growling and crouching down to pounce. The long bronze sword curved a glittering arc that ended on the dog's head, the heavy blade near splitting the skull in two. The beast dropped without a sound, breaking the pack's resolve and the rest fled.
"That was so fast," the princess said, wonder in her voice. "You killed the first one almost before I knew it was there."
"How do you think our people conquered the world, my lady? It wasn't just the power of our chariots and the magic of our women. The strength of our warriors had a little to do with the matter." He grinned at her, while carefully wiping his weapon on a carcass.
She curtseyed. "My hero," she said in a mocking voice, but her eyes shone when she looked at him. "I have never seen a sword used like that before. You cut at the second dog as if you had an axe."
Perseus showed her the sword. "This is a Sherden weapon from Italy. See how the blade is wide and heavy right down to the pointed tip so I can slash with it as well as slab." He made a few passes around her, the bronze flashing in the bright Mediterranean sunlight. She smiled indulgently, standing still and demonstrating total trust in his skill.
He sheathed the sword. "At least we know what killed the goat," he observed. "And that no people come up here."
"How do we know that?" she asked, puzzled.
"The wild dogs had lost all fear of man," he replied. "Well, they fear me now and I fancy that they will leave us alone in future. It's not as if they are short of food." He gestured at the dead dogs and she gave a moue of distaste. "If you are ready, Princess, we can proceed?"
The temple lay a short distance away, as ruined as the house. The roof had fallen in and the structure was overgrown with climbing plants. These old temples fascinated Perseus because his people did not build them. Achaean palaces had areas set aside as shrines for religious ceremonies and even the meanest dwelling would have a small corner dedicated to the Gods. "Imagine the effort and organisation needed to build something this size?" he said, marvelling at the stonework.
"It is difficult to see how such a small island could manage it," she said. "It must have consumed the entire energy of the islanders for decades."
"It didn't do them much good," Perseus said. "Cycladians might still rule the Aegean if they had they put their energy into fortifications rather than religion."
He and the Maryannu princess exchanged the half smug, half guilty, expressions of the descendents of conquerors.
"Was it dedicated to Dionysius?" he asked, studying the profusion of vines.
"No," she replied. "To Hekate."
"Ah, the moon lady," he said. "We Achaeans call her Artemis, the Huntress of the Night, the Queen of Magic."
"Did you know that Hekate's symbol is the dog?" she asked.
"No I didn't," he replied. "Artemis' symbol is the deer."
"Symbols are what you make of them," she said.
They walked around the ruin until they found an entrance consisting of two huge standing stones surmounted by an equally massive lintel. The doorway itself was intact, but all inside was tumbled stone and earth.
He sighed. "I fear your quest is fruitless, my lady. If there ever was a treasure within, then it is lost forever."
She pulled her bag off over her head and delved inside. "Not so, Perseus. It will be safely hidden. Now my work starts. Can you make me a fire, please?"
He kindled some wood and, by the time he had finished, she had set up a small tripod and a bowl of dark grey metal, which he examined carefully. "Is this what I think it is?"
"If you think it is starmetal, then you are right."
"Iron," he said, reverentially. "I have never seen so much before."
She sat cross-legged before the fire and set the tripod over it. "I intend to use molly, Perseus, so you should move upwind. The narcotic vapours can be upsetting for the untrained."
He hastened to follow her instructions as magic was tricky stuff. She sprinkled small flakes of a dried herb into the bowl where it curled and smoked on the hot iron. She sat upright with crossed legs, arms extended out in front of her with the palms up, chanting softly in Maryannan. He caught the repeated refrain, "Come to me, Hekate. Open the door for I give you my blood. Come to me, Hekate." She leaned over the vapour and inhaled deeply then, taking a small knife in one hand, she cut the base of her thumb while holding it over the bowl. Drops of blood fell onto the hot iron with a hiss.
The drone of insects died away and the air was heavy and still. He saw her as if she was at the bottom of a deep lake. She moved her arms slowly against some invisible resistance, like an underwater swimmer. This was no market-place magician's trick, like the spell that had scared the satyrs. This was sorcery of the highest calibre. A deep rumble sounded and the very ground beneath his feet trembled. Grinding noises, like heavy stones dragged over solid rock, sounded from the temple entrance.
She slumped forward, her head resting in her hands. He moved to her slowly, as if though treacle, to gently lift her up.
"You never cease to surprise me, Princess," he said.
It took her some little time to recover and he held her the whole time, a task that he found most agreeable.
"Now we go down into the underworld, Prince Perseus," she said.
He checked that his sword was free in the scabbard.
She laughed. "You won't need that." Then, she grew serious. "You must take nothing out from the underworld."
He followed her into the entrance to the temple. There, she gripped his hand while they walked under the lintel. His stomach lurched as if he was falling, and a gust of wind whipped past his face, then they were through. The change from the hot dry air of a Mediterranean island to the damp chill of the temple was so abrupt that it made him gasp. It took his eyes a little while to adapt to the gloom but then he saw that they stood inside a vast building, in an aisle lined by stone columns. Torches, attached to the columns, illuminated the aisle in flickering light. The ceiling was not visible and vestibules, each side of the aisle, stretched back into darkness.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Inside the temple," she replied. "The Temple of Thorns."
The columns were carved to resemble twisted clumps of bramble wood, complete with thorns. At the end of the isle, torches illuminated a giant bronze statue in the likeness of a woman, a huntress with three heads.
The princess followed his eyes. "Hekate," she whispered and led the way down the aisle.
"This temple is surely too big for the ruin," he protested.
"We are not in the real Temple of Thorns," she said. "This is an echo of that place in the underworld. It is a shadow created by prayers and magic. What you see reflects the religious importance of the temple, not its physical appearance, as every prayer, sacrifice or other act of magic has left an imprint."
At the end of the aisle, a wand of twisted strands of wood lay casually across the statue's feet. "There, there is our treasure," she said, triumphantly.
"That stick," he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
"Oh Perseus," she said. "You weren't expecting gold or jewels were you?"
He shrugged and reached for the wand.
"No!" She grabbed his arm. "I have to prepare the way before we can take it."
Perseus backed off. She sat down cross-legged in front of the statue and prayed in Maryannan. He knew the language well enough to understand that she sang a hymn of supplication. It went on and on so, bored, he took a torch from off its bracket and explored the darkness beyond the illuminated aisle. Statues lined the vestibules, some of men and women who were often dressed in outlandish clothes, but many others of magical creatures such as centaurs and unicorns.
Strange demons were also carved in stone. One caught his eye, specifically, because it had the face and torso of a beautiful woman with high cheekbones and magnificent breasts but the body below the waist was snakelike, with vestigial legs. The statue's hair was a mass of serpents. The eyes painted onto the face seemed to follow him as he walked past.
Many of the statues were decorated with precious jewels and metals. In one side room, a golden phoenix rose from an egg made of silver, the rarest and most valuable metal of all. Flames of polished bronze surrounded the firebird's nest. He was reluctant to move too far from the aisle in case he lost his way, as the vestibule appeared endless, room opening into room, gems reflecting the torchlight back at him.
The princess droned on interminably as he explored.
"Perseus, where are you?" she finally called.
"Here," he replied, stepping back into the central aisle. He noticed that she now had the twisted wand in her hand.
"We must leave quickly, before the entrance closes," she said, hurrying up the aisle. He walked beside her with long strides. She was a tall girl but she still took three steps to his two.
At the door, she held his hand again and, as they passed through, he felt the same falling sensation before bright light blinded his eyes and the hot Mediterranean sun flooded his skin with warmth. At her gesture, he turned and tossed the torch back through the door, backing off as grinding stones shook the ground. He could see through the door into the temple which was just a tangled ruin again. For a moment the air was still, then a cold wind whistled around the ruin, spinning little dust devils that whipped plant litter into spirals in the air.
"Perseus, I can feel magic, something's happening," the princess said, fear colouring her voice.
The wind blew stronger and the dust devils danced, thickening as they picked up more material. The Achaean swung his shield onto his arm and drew his sword. Now the wind howled, blowing dust into his eyes. It stopped abruptly as if some master of ceremonies had signalled a halt. The dust devils hung silently in the air and then they solidified.
Ancient warriors stood before Perseus. To be more exact, they were the desiccated remains of ancient warriors that carried small, dull copper axes and wicker shields. They were naked except for tattered loincloths and the most disgusting thing about them was their greeny-brown decaying skin. Flakes dropped off as they moved with an awkward shuffling motion. Their eyes were shrunken balls in blackened sockets. They were corpses but they moved.
He recognised these animated dead from pictures on the walls of the palace in Seriphos. They were the mummified remains of ancient Cycladian warriors. Soldiers dressed like this had been mown down in their hundreds when the Achaeans had swept through the islands, and in their thousands when his ancestors' battle chariots had broken the native army on the Argolid Plain.
"Princess," he said, speaking slowly and carefully so that she would be sure to understand him. "I want you to run now. Get off the plateau and back to the village. I will join you when I can."
The first warrior attacked, moving surprisingly quickly for a desiccated corpse. The Achaean blocked the blow of its axe with his shield and stabbed straight through its wicker shield into its body. There was a hiss of air and a foetid smell filled his nostrils. The thing backed up a step but, instead of falling, it examined the rent in its belly with a sort of quizzical interest before attacking again. He knocked it down with his shield then had to dodge an axe that a mummy swung at him on his unshielded side. He retaliated with a sword slash that removed the thing's head. It sat down with a thump but soon climbed back on its feet and resumed the fight.
More of the warriors converged on the Achaean. He jumped over an axe swing and advanced, trying to draw the creatures away from the princess. He sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder and was infuriated to see her standing in shock, eyes closed, clutching that damn stick. Then he didn't have time for anything but a desperate battle for survival.
An axe cut across his chest, leaving a bloody furrow and, in retaliation, he chopped at the thing's legs. They detached easily but the corpse still crawled back towards him, pulling itself along with one hand while waving its dammed axe with the other. He had to dismember the wretched things to stop them but he never had enough time. Whenever he was in a position to do real damage to a mummy, another attacked forcing him back on the defensive.
The damn girl was chanting something now and could make out the words "Father Zeus." Why had the silly girl not run when he told her to? He stabbed his sword into a mummy where it stuck and, before he could free it, another dead warrior pulled his shield down. Two more clung to his legs and a copper axe was raised high above his head.
A blue-white thunderbolt flashed in from behind, hitting the animated thing with the axe and blowing it apart into flaming fragments. More thunderbolts smashed into the warrior mummies. They were so bright that they left black lines on his vision. The corpses exploded in fire, burning fiercely with crackling green flames. Within seconds, only ashes were left, dispersing gently in the light breeze that slipped through the trees.
She still stood where he had last seen her, eyes closed holding the twisted wand out, like a lance. The wood was covered in sharp thorns and blood dripped from her hand. He was certain that the spikes had not been there before. He was so angry that he had trouble speaking so he reached for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him.
"When I tell you to run, girl, you run. Do you understand?" He shook her like a child.
"I had to save you or die trying because it's all my fault. My spell should have protected us from the curse that strikes anyone who removes the temple's treasures. I was so sure that I had the Goddess' permission to take the wand but I must have done something wrong. I'm sorry." She was in tears.
The fury drained from him. How could he be angry with a woman that was prepared to die fighting at his side? Achaeans always claimed that the Maryannu had gone soft in their rich palaces but she was living proof that Achaeans knew nothing.
"No, it wasn't your fault," he said, soothingly.
The wand was smooth again, completely without thorns. He took it from her and turned her hand palm up to reveal skin torn by deep punctures. Gently, he kissed each wound.
* * *
The princess chattered cheerfully as they walked down the hill in the clean sunlight and he felt his own spirits lift as they left the plateau. He strode jauntily through the trees, inhaling the pine scent deeply. "The palace towers have roofs coated in gold leaf. They seem to burn with orange flame in the setting sun. Oh Perseus, you will love Joppa." She took hold of his arm.
"It sounds wonderful," he smiled at her. Now it was all over, she bounced like a puppy dog and it was impossible not to be infected by her mood.
They stopped by a stream to drink, slaking their thirst in its cool, clean water. The princess filled her water skin to sustain them for the rest of the journey. "I have never been away from Joppa before. I thought it would be exciting to have an adventure but I do believe that I am homesick. Do you miss Argolis?"
"Hardly, Princess," he laughed. "I was a baby when my mother was exiled."
"Well Seriphos, then?"
"No. I don't have many happy memories of the island. I recall the odd tavern girl with affection but little else."
"Beast. You only say these things to tease me." She put her hand in the stream and splashed water all over him.
"Right, you are going to pay for that," he promised, wagging his finger at her.
"No," she squealed, scrambling away from him.
He launched himself after her, scooping her up into the air.
"A cooling bath will dampen your energy, my lady."
"Put me down or I will put magic warts on your nose. What will your tavern girls think of you then?" She wriggled in his arms. "Put me down, you rotten bully."
He dropped her back on her feet. "What?" she said, sounding disappointed.
Perseus pointed to where four men watched them, three spearmen and a man with a sword, who must be the officer.
"Mattra," she yelled, happily and threw herself towards the swordsman.
Perseus seized her wrist, pulling her roughly back. "Stay behind me."
"I'm sorry, Princess. I hoped that this would not be necessary. I hoped that you would die on the mountain of some mischance," Mattra said, reluctantly.
The Achaean drew his sword and slipped his arm through the shield grips. He advanced on the men, shield in front of him. The spearmen lowered their weapons and sheltered behind long, tower shields. Mattra drew his sword but Perseus noticed that he hung back, leaving one of the spearmen dangerously exposed.
Perseus made a feint at the pair of spearmen on his left, who reacted by huddling together defensively behind their shields. Perseus immediately broke off his attack and charged the lone spearman on his right. The man jabbed at him with the thrusting spear. Perseus pushed the spearhead aside with his shield, stepping in close. In one continuous fluid move, he stabbed over the long shield into the spearman's throat. Blood pumped, the man dropping with a strangled gurgle.
A flicker of sunlight reflecting off metal caught Perseus' attention. He raised his shield in time to block Mattra's sword thrust. Perseus swung his own bronze sword in an overhead hack, droplets of the spearman's blood spraying off the tip in a red fan. He hit Mattra's shield with a crash, forcing the man to one knee. The Achaean thrust his shield into Mattra's face, knocking him over backwards.
The spearmen came out of their defensive formation and attacked, forcing him back. Using the extra length of their weapons, they could keep the Achaean out of sword reach as long as they worked together. Perseus had to break the deadlock before they wore him down. He unlooped his shield from around his head. Measuring the range carefully, he threw it like a discus. It caught a spearman under the chin, snapping back his head. Perseus heard the neck break with a distinct crack.
The Achaean immediately turned on the last spearmen, throwing himself at the man. Perseus twisted to avoid the panic stricken thrust of the spear point. He smashed his sword down on the man's helmet. The spearmen pitched forward and Perseus stabbed him in the back as he fell.
Mattra was back on his feet. He took one look at his slaughtered spearmen and threw down his sword and shield in surrender.
"Why, Mattra, tell me why?" the girl asked. "I thought that you were my friend. Why did you betray me?"
"I was your friend, Princess, but they were too powerful. They gave me no choice," Mattra replied.
"You always had a choice, friend," said Perseus. "You just made the wrong one."
Casually, Perseus stabbed Mattra under the ribcage. Their eyes met for a moment, before Mattra slid backwards off the blade. Perseus wiped his sword on the man's kilt then efficiently looted the bodies.
"When I was small he used to tell me stories of battles and great warriors," she said. "Was it necessary to kill him?"
"Yes, Princess, it was necessary. What else did you expect me to do with the traitorous bastard? Make him promise to be a good boy in future? You were in danger as long as he was alive. He intended to spit you like a dog."
She nodded, accepting his decision. Nevertheless, she bent down by his body, closed Mattra's eyes, and said a prayer for his soul. She was very quiet for the rest of the journey. They reached the fishing village the next day.
The hamlet was a mean place, clinging to the side of a small hillock. The only buildings in stone were a small headman's villa and a modest temple to The Lady. A ship's mast, with furled sail, projected over the single story buildings. Two naked children played "sticks" in the sole street that meandered through the village but a woman appeared and pulled them into a hut. Once or twice, Perseus thought he saw shadowy faces observing him through half-shuttered windows. A pig stopped rooting beside a hut long enough to look them over, snorting as if it did not like what it saw, before strutting off with an indignant gait.
Perseus rounded a cowshed and got his first look at the galley moored against a ramshackle jetty. The sleek black warship was completely out of place among the flimsy fishing boats. He could smell pitch, indicating that the warship was well maintained, as one might expect of a royal transport.
"Your ride awaits, Princess," he said.
"I arrived on this island keen to have an adventure. It was going to be all such fun," she said, softly. "I was so eager for new experiences but sometimes the Gods mock us by giving us what we wish for."
A sailor on watch spotted him and rang a bell causing a man to stick his head out of the cabin aft. The lookout yelled something and the head disappeared.
Perseus' boots clumped on the wooden jetty. An officer, by his clothes, came out of the cabin and jumped down from the warship onto the jetty, followed by a man wearing the armband of a ship's mate and a small group of sailors. Perseus and the princess halted in front of the officer.
"Captain, this is Prince Perseus of Achaea," she said.
"I see," the captain said, clearly not seeing at all. "What happened to Mattra?"
"He ate something that disagreed with him," said Perseus, lightly.
"What?" said the captain, confused.
"Four inches of bronze," said Perseus, with a feral grin.
"Prince Perseus will be accompanying us to Joppa," she said.
"I have been thinking, Princess," said Perseus. "I suspect my arrival in Joppa might precipitate a political crisis. I have survived being thrown out of two cities as an unwanted prince. I don't fancy risking my life or yours on a third, so I won't be coming with you."
"But I promised you a reward, Perseus, and I have nothing with me of sufficient value."
"You underestimate your charms, lady. I shall take my reward now."
He swept her into his arms and silenced any protest she might make with his lips. She stiffened momentarily before melting against him. Time stood still and power flowed through her and into him. Her lips were hot, her skin burnt against him, and his pulse hammered in his veins. She was his, completely. He wanted to throw her down and take her on the jetty but a tiny spark of sanity flickered in the back of his mind. This was sex-magic, the most powerful sorcery of all. It washed through him like a flame, consuming everything, like nothing he had ever known. She was all women and she was like no other woman. She was his, completely.
The rational part of his mind told him that you do not mount a Maryannu princess in front of her boat crew so, seizing the thought while he still could, he gently disengaged her arms from his neck and stepped back. It took every scrap of will power that he could summon. The pull of her body was overwhelming. Her skin glowed and her body undulated in waves of power.
"Princess?" he said, trying to break the spell.
"The Goddess came," she whispered.
"The Lady?" Perseus asked, nervously. The Lady of the Labyrinth was the most powerful of the Old Gods and even the charioteers were wary of her.
"No. It was Aphrodite of the Stars. She said that you will . . . that we will . . ." Her voice trailed off.
"We will what, Princess?" he asked.
"Nothing." Her face closed like a mask, cutting off her thoughts.
Perseus looked around him. Normally, he kept a watchful eye on his surroundings but, for those few moments, he had lost track of everything but her. The captain watched the princess intently, licking his lips. Residuals of magical power still sounded in Perseus' head like a bell, letting him see every thought crossing the man's mind.
"Pretty little thing, isn't she?" asked Perseus. "The magic is strong within her. She would be worth a bag of gold on the auction block at Amnisos."
"Yes," the captain said absentmindedly before looking at him in horror. The man's hand brushed his belt and he lunged at Perseus, with a curved Lycian dagger that appeared as if by magic. It was a practiced move that must have won many a fight in the dockside taverns but the power still flowed in Perseus, surging backwards and forwards. For all his speed, to Perseus the captain seemed to move in slow motion, as if the air around him had thickened into water.
Perseus caught the man's wrist with his right hand, squeezing so hard that bones and tendons ground between his fingers, forcing the captain to scream and drop his knife. Some of the crew started forward but the mate ordered them back. Perseus seized the captain around the throat with his free hand, pushing hard. The captain scrabbled ineffectually but Perseus was implacable, bending his head back further and further. The man's neck snapped with an audible click and Perseus let the body fall with a thud on the jetty.
"Oh Gods," said the princess. "Doesn't the killing ever stop?"
"Not for people like us, who were born within reach of a throne. For us, it only stops when we are dead. Hasn't this trip taught you that yet, girl? If not, then it's time you grew up," Perseus snarled, with genuine anger. He liked her, but she had to toughen up or she would never survive the deadly dynastic politics that swirled through a palace and he had discovered that he desperately wanted her to survive.
The mate spat on his captain's body. "He liked to involve himself in the affairs of the great ones of Joppa, because he imagined himself to be important. I will take the princess safely home to her father; my life on it, Prince."
"That's right, your life on it," said Perseus. "If anything happens to her, if anyone even threatens her, I will know and I will come with bronze and fire and an Achaean warband at my back. Depend upon it and make sure they know it in Joppa."
The mate nodded and Perseus knew that he grasped the threat. The Maryannu aristocracy made sport of the crude arts and manners of their Achaean cousins but no one laughed at an Achaean warband. The highest honour conferred on an Achaean warlord by his peers was "sacker of cities," a title even given to Athena.
"So this is goodbye, then, my prince," she said.
"For the moment," he replied. "But one day, I will come for you."
"I know," she said. "The Goddess told me."
He would like to know what else the Goddess whispered to her.
"Trust no one, Princess. No one, if you want to survive," Perseus said.
"No one but you," she said, unclipping a small silver pendant from her slender neck which depicted a crooked cross, the good luck charm of the Sky Gods. She went to hang it on his neck but it wouldn't fit, so she doubled it around his wrist instead.
"This will remind you that you are mine, even when you sport with dancing girls and faithless wives."
Perseus reached into his pouch and took out a necklace. Two golden wasps hung back to back on a golden chain. Her eyebrows lifted, no doubt she remembered where he had acquired it, but nevertheless she allowed him to hang it around her neck. He thought that it looked much better on her than the commander's wife—what had her name been?
"Take care," she said, then left him.
The sailors helped the princess aboard. They cast off the lines, and backed the galley out from the jetty. All the time, she stood in the bow, watching him.
Perseus searched the captain's body, placing the loot that he found in his pouch. It was agreeably full now with booty, including the jewels that he had stolen from the Temple of Thorns. He walked up the jetty to find a fisherman who could be bribed or threatened to convey him away from this miserable place. He thought that he had earned a holiday and he knew a tavern in Kos where the gambling was wild and the dancing girls wilder. For some reason, his thoughts turned back to Siffa. What was the name of the commander's wife? Now he considered the matter, he was not sure that he had ever known it. One reason he called all women princess was so that he didn't have to worry about their names. A thought struck him.
Perseus raced back down the jetty. The ship was still under oars, turning on the spot to head for the open sea.
"Princess," Perseus yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. "You never told me your name."
She yelled just one word back.
"Andromeda."